Disclaimer: The 'Magnificent Seven' and other characters from the series are the property of MGM, Trilogy and the Mirisch Company. I just borrowed them, played with them for a while, and then very regretfully gave them back! The original characters found in this piece are mine and should not be used without permission. Sadly, no money will be made from this work of fan fiction.
Genre: Old West — H/C, angst, drama
Main characters: Vin, Chris, Ezra.
Rating: PG13, mainly for language, plus some violence.
Thank you to my husband, Mike, for his patience and understanding whilst I sat for hours at the PC writing this, my first ever work of fan fiction. Thanks also to Heather and Sue for their constant encouragement.
As with each of my stories, the themes, convoluted ideas, original characters and writing are, in their entirety, all of my own work.
The original version of this story was posted to Lady Angel's Library website in March 2003.
This version has been revised, expanded and completely re-edited — May 2004.
Feedback and comments can be sent to susieburton999@yahoo.co.uk
The third day of the carnival dawned bright and sunny, and Chris Larabee, for what felt like the hundredth time, climbed the stairs up to Nathan's clinic. He'd bathed, shaved and had coffee, before checking in with the other peacekeepers at the jailhouse. Ezra, Buck, and JD had been readying themselves for yet another hard day's work and, whilst Chris had complete trust in their abilities to police the town, he'd also felt a little guilty that his friends had to work additional shifts to cover for his absences. The three peacekeepers had been nonchalantly dismissive when he'd mentioned this, as they knew that the injured Vin Tanner had a greater need of the gunslinger's attention than they did.
As the black dressed man entered the clinic, he was surprised to find the room empty. Someone had been up there since he'd woken and left earlier, as the shelves and tables had been tidied, and the beds neatly made. Hearing Josiah's quiet voice, he went over to the partitioned corner.
Vin was sitting propped up in the bed, with a large towel draped around his shoulders. The heavy quilt had been folded down to the bottom of the bed and a second towel covered the tracker's waist and groin area, plus the majority of his bare legs. The wounded man was silent and sullen-looking, but he stayed completely immobile as the ex-preacher scraped a shaving blade across his soapy chin.
"Now that must feel better, son," Josiah murmured, as he finished the shave. "I don't think Brother Nathan will recognise you when he gets back from his breakfast. I'm sure you'll have lots of visitors' real soon, 'cos I know Miz Nettie's chomping at the bit to see you. I'm sure the dear lady didn't believe Ezra when he told her that you were awake and feeling much better."
Putting the shaving gear on the table, the ex-preacher then dipped a small washcloth in a basin of hot water and proceeded to carefully sponge the younger man's face, neck and arms. Vin lay there impassively, not responding at all to Josiah's words, but allowing the other man to lift his slack limbs as he continued the wash.
Glancing briefly at the gunslinger, Josiah carried on with his completely one-sided conversation. "Of course, I can't see Nathan letting anyone visit you just yet, not till you're feeling stronger, so it looks like you'll just have us for company for now. I know JD has a lovely book of poetry that he's itching to read to you when you feel up to it and no doubt Ezra will come and talk to you real soon, seeing as how it's his second favourite pastime."
The younger man's face remained stoically blank, as if he hadn't heard a single word that the big peacekeeper had said.
Chris wordlessly spun around, and then went quietly back to the main room, crossing to the stove to brew fresh coffee as he attempted to regain his shaken composure. Josiah was more than able to tend to his friend's immediate personal needs, but the tortured, haunted look on Vin's face tore at his heart and it was more than he could bear at the moment.
It was not going to be easy for the tracker in the days ahead. Nathan had earlier voiced his concerns to the gunslinger, regarding the psychological effect the blindness would have on Vin's physical recovery. Chris knew that the injured man would have the full support of all his friends, but he was acutely aware of how fiercely independent the Texan was, finding it difficult to accept help of any kind, even when incapacitated.
Vin was a free spirit, like a bird soaring in the sky and happiest when out riding on the open plains and trails. All of his life he'd had to fend for himself, and make his own way in a harsh world. It was only since meeting Chris and the five other men that the tracker had started to enjoy a collective, brotherly-like companionship and trust, but even then he would occasionally ride off alone, to savour the joy of being in the open countryside. If the man's vision didn't return, then his life would have to change dramatically. And Chris wasn't sure if his friend would be able to cope with this handicap.
As the fair-haired peacekeeper poured coffee into two cups, Josiah walked out from behind the screens carrying the basin and towels, with the shaving kit tucked under his arm. He quickly disposed of the toilet articles before picking up the cup that the gunslinger indicated.
"I thought it best not to leave the blade in there." Josiah's succinct comment was barely above a whisper and his eyes locked briefly with the other man's.
"No. I think Nathan called it right. He's hurting inside more than anything else at the moment. It's gonna take a lot to snap him outta this depression," Chris answered.
As he spoke, the door opened to admit the tall healer carrying a wooden crate. He'd been restocking medical supplies at the Dentist's office, which was being used by his lady helpers' as a minor injury's treatment room. Stowing the box safely in the corner, he hung up his hat and jacket, before pouring himself a hot drink. The three men sat at the table now, drinking their coffee.
"Has he said anything yet, Josiah?" The quiet query came with a hopeful expression from Nathan.
"Not a word, brother. And he's just drifted off to sleep again," Josiah answered, before draining his cup. "Well, I have to go, as my presence is required at the church. Nathan, I'll be back later to help and give whatever comfort I can to our young friend."
The ex-preacher laid his hand lightly on the gunslinger's arm, giving Chris a strange look, almost one of pity, as he rose from the table. "Chris, if you need to talk to someone, you know that my door is always open. The Lord can bring comfort and understanding to help ease a suffering soul, and even when you think the way ahead is dark, with all hope lost, He can provide enlightenment. We may all tread a sorrowful path in the coming days, but our strength and resolve will come from God's loving support." Picking up his hat and coat, the big man headed out of the door.
Chris looked at Nathan in puzzlement as the clinic door closed. "I'm not sure what Josiah was getting at then. You got any ideas, Nathan?"
The healer didn't reply. He had a reasonably good idea what the wise ex-preacher was trying to tell the other man, but Nathan knew that Chris would have to find his own answers. Schooling his face, the healer merely shook his head as he put his empty cup on the side, and then went to check on his patient.
The Texan peacekeeper was lying propped up in the bed, and was now wearing a long-sleeved nightshirt, which was buttoned to the neck. The gunslinger had followed behind Nathan and, as the two sat down on chairs on opposite sides of the bed, Vin's eyes slowly opened.
"Nathan?" The tracker wasn't coughing as much this morning, and his voice sounded stronger now that he'd shaken off the effects of the chloroform.
"Yeah. I must say yer looking a lot better now that Josiah's done his bit. An' I know ya managed to eat some breakfast. How do y'feel, Vin?" the healer asked, reaching across for his stethoscope.
Vin shrugged silently, his unseeing eyes fixed firmly ahead as he shifted in the bed a little.
"I jes' want to check ya over. Then do y'feel up to talking to Chris?" The healer held onto his patient's wrist as he spoke.
"I don't have much choice, do I? Jes' do what y'want, Nathan. Ya will, anyhow!"
There was no mistaking the bitterness in the younger man's voice, but Vin didn't resist as Nathan undid the buttons on the nightshirt and put the stethoscope in place on his chest. Chris shifted a little closer to the bed, but waited silently while Nathan continued with his examination. At last, the healer was satisfied and began recording information in his notebook.
Chris touched the tracker's hand to get his attention. "Can you remember what happened, Vin?"
The other man drew a long, slow breath. "Yeah, but there's not much to tell. The fireworks were goin' off, an' I went down by the Telegraph Office to check the back alleys. At first I didn't see a thing, but then I saw a shape over by the wall. I didn't know it was the dead gal. It was a stupid mistake, Chris. I should've got my mares leg out there and then but it happened so fast — and the fella moved quick an' real quiet. Hell, I've known Kiowa braves who've made more noise! Then he shot me. He was close but, it was that dark down there, I jes' couldn't see his face." As he finished speaking, Vin relaxed further back into his pillows, wearily closing his eyes.
Nathan leaned forward and put a cool hand on the younger man's forehead. "Ya can have a few more minutes, Chris, but then he really needs to rest."
The gunslinger nodded as Nathan passed by him, and then went out to the main part of the clinic.
"Vin?" Chris called softly to his exhausted friend. "I know you're tired, pard, but I can't get to the bottom of this without your help. Vin?"
The tracker opened his eyes again. His head felt like it was about to explode, and he couldn't recall ever feeling this weary, but he was determined to give his friend as much information as he could. Josiah had told him this morning about the killing of Anya Koklova, and he'd been shocked and sickened by her violent death. He felt a growing hatred for the unknown assailant, and the desire to find the killer and bring him to justice was strong; more for the dead girl than for himself. Vin realised that his injuries would prevent him from taking an active role in the investigations, so he knew that he needed to tell Chris as much as possible. Prior to being told the identity of the other victim, he'd been overwhelmed with self-pity as he attempted to come to terms with his blindness. The fear of what lay ahead still remained but, for now, he was determined to do all he could to help catch the murderer.
Vin knew that he would have to regain some of his strength before he could attempt to resolve his own problems and, to that end, he'd allowed Nathan and Josiah to tend to him this morning. He hated himself for the deception he planned, but he knew that his friends would do everything in their power to stop him from doing what he intended. Of them all, he thought that Josiah would understand his reasons the most, and it gave him comfort to think that the other peacekeepers would have the ex-preacher to help them come to terms with his actions. The person that Vin knew would be the most badly affected was now beside him. The tracker could only imagine how Chris would react, but he wasn't going to allow the feelings he had for the gunslinger stop him from achieving his objective. He would have to be very careful when talking to his black dressed friend.
"Yeah, I'm still awake." Vin straightened slightly in the bed, grimacing as a dagger of pain lanced through his side and back.
"Did you hear a voice or recognise anything about him? What about his boots or clothing?" Chris could see that his friend was experiencing some discomfort from his injury, but the gunslinger was determined to try and finish his interview.
"No. I keep thinkin' 'bout it Chris. I want the bastard who killed that girl, but I jes' didn't see 'im properly." Vin laid back, his face pale and his eyes closed once again.
"You said he moved like a Kiowa, Vin. Could it a'bin a rogue Indian from a reservation or one of the villages?"
"Nope. I'm still alive, ain't I? No brave worth his salt would use an itty bitty gun like a Derringer!" Fatigue tinged the other man's voice, but he still managed a quirky lop-sided grin.
Chris sat back as he thought about the tracker's words, and then looked up as Nathan returned holding a cup. The healer perched on the side of the bed and briefly touched the younger man's arm. "Vin, I want ya t'drink this."
"What is it?" The tracker's eyes shot open, suspicion plainly evident in their blue depths.
Slipping his arm around his patient's shoulders, Nathan put the cup to his friend's mouth. He could feel Vin trembling with the exertion of his recent efforts and knew that the sleeping draught wouldn't take long to work.
"It's yer favourite skunks piss, but it'll help ya sleep and ya'll feel much better after a rest. C'mon, drink it all now. That's it. Good."
Passing the empty cup to the gunslinger, Nathan supported his friend's body as he quickly adjusted the pillows to a lower position. After pulling the covers closer around the relaxing tracker, the healer briefly laid his hand on the drowsy man's forehead.
"Chris?"
The tracker blinked several times. The powerful sedative was already starting to do its job, but the injured man wasn't quite ready to succumb to sleep just yet. "I'm sorry I can't help... ya more. That gal needs... to be avenged," the Texan mumbled.
Nathan picked up a slack hand, and spoke soothingly to the heavy-eyed man. "Don't fight it, Vin. Rest easy now, an' try an' relax. Y'need to sleep. The more ya rest the quicker ya'll heal."
Vin swallowed hard, eyes now almost completely closed. "Chris, I hope y'get th' killer. It'd be kinda good to know someone'd pay... for this." Vin gestured vaguely at his eyes with his one free hand. "Y'can ask Josiah... but in some Injun tribes, the braves who're... blinded in battle...? Waal, their kin let 'em crawl off an' die somewhere... 'S' much.... kinder way, don'tcha think...?" The man's slow, quiet words slurred slightly, tapering off as the drug began to work.
Nathan looked at Chris' stricken face and felt tears well in his own eyes. Abruptly the gunslinger rose and, without a word, he strode out to the other room.
The healer made sure the sleeping man was settled and then went to join his friend in the main part of the clinic.
Chris was sitting at the table, back rigid and a stunned expression on his face, and he didn't react or move as the healer passed him.
Putting the cup to one side, Nathan poured fresh coffee and, reaching up to a shelf, he then found two small glasses. After putting these on the table in front of the still silent gunslinger, he went to a cupboard and got out a bottle of whiskey. Nathan slowly sat down opposite Chris, poured liquor into the glasses, and then sat back to wait. The older man reached across for one of the drinks. The healer saw the other's hand shake slightly as the gunslinger threw the alcohol down his throat in one swift movement. Finally Chris spoke.
"He wants to die, Nathan." The gunslinger's face was ashen as he tried to accept what he'd just heard.
Nodding mutely, Nathan picked up the other glass and took a sip. He'd had a long conversation with Josiah earlier this morning, for the two men had been forced to accept that there was nothing they could do about the tracker's plight. Nathan knew that as soon as Vin was able to walk from the clinic, he would be gone, slipping away quietly, probably never to be seen again. Josiah had said as much to the healer this morning and Vin had just confirmed their worst fears.
It wasn't a subject either man had been happy about. The part of Nathan that made him such a fine healer cried out that something could be done to cure his friend's eyes, whilst the deeply religious ex-preacher believed in the sanctity of life, with suicide a sin and punishable in the afterlife. Both men were realists though, and realised that for someone like Vin Tanner, the option he would probably take — as far as he was concerned — was the only one open to him. They both also knew there was nothing they could do to prevent it, short of locking the younger man away; although even that action would eventually lead to the same outcome.
"You knew! And Josiah!"
Chris now understood what the ex-preacher had been trying to tell him this morning, and he cursed himself for his earlier lack of understanding.
"Dammit all to hell, Nathan!"
The gunslinger slammed his right fist down hard on the table, causing the cups and glasses to jump and rattle. Chris put his head in his hands; he felt numb with grief and unable to say anything. He felt empty inside, like a bottle that had been poured, until nothing remained in it.
The healer laid a sympathetic hand on the older man's arm. "Chris, there's nothing y'can do. There's nothing any of us can do. This is a path that can only be taken by Vin and, while I'm not saying that I agree, I do understand." Nathan's softly spoken comment conveyed his own grief, and the two men gazed at one another in mutual sorrow.
"No. He just need's time to think this through, Nathan. His eyesight might return eventually, but what's the point if he's already gone and done summat stupid? We have to find a way t'stop him. Can't you keep him in here? After all, you've got plenty of drugs you can use. Or I could lock him up at the jail for a while, or at least 'til he sees reason."
The desperate tone in the other man's voice made the healer want to cry. "Ya know that's not the answer, Chris. Tell me, if an eagle broke its wing would ya shut it in a cage to protect it? I don't think so. Put yerself in Vin's boots. How would y'feel? If he does remain blind, what will he be able to do? He won't be able to ride with us, chasing out after some fella or other. So, what's left? An Institution fer the afflicted mebbe? Or staying in town with everyone pitying 'im? Is that what y'want fer him, Chris?" Nathan's quiet voice shook with emotion, and he took a large gulp of whiskey, praying that the older man would see the tracker's viewpoint.
Chris knew the healer was right, but that didn't stop the pain he felt inside. The gunslinger had a strong emotional attachment to the tracker, something he had never experienced before with another man; a complex association that was difficult to understand on a conscious level. Buck Wilmington had been his friend for much longer, but it was Vin Tanner who had filled the lonely, empty space in his heart that had existed after Sarah and Adam had died.
It was much more than a brotherly affection and Chris was sure that Vin felt the same way. It was an unspoken bond between them, a relationship that had been built up on a framework of mutual respect, trust and understanding. Sure, they'd had their differences — both men could be as stubborn as a mule — but they always managed to work things out. Chris wasn't ready to have this all taken from him, but listening to the astute healer he knew that there were very few choices available. Wearily he rubbed his forehead.
"Yeah, I know you're right, Nathan, but that don't make it any easier to accept. I suppose all we can do is hope for a miracle to happen."
"Yeah. Well, that's more Josiah's territory, though I bin goin' down that trail too, since this all happened." Nathan shook his head sadly.
"Do you think he's aware that we know what he plans to do?" Chris asked.
"I don't think so. I was really surprised when he made that comment in front of us. Of course, that sleeping draught I gave him was pretty strong. He was virtually asleep at the time an' I think the words were out afore he knew it. With the amount of drugs inside him, he may not even remember what he said."
"God help me, Nathan, I hope I'll be able to keep this from him when he wakes. I just feel like I want to plead with him to stay, but I know that'll make things worse."
Chris got up and began pacing around the room, reminding Nathan of a caged animal. "We all need to be strong. Josiah will help. I think fer now, though, this should go no further than us three. With mebbe the exception of Ezra, I don't think the others would understand, an' I don't want Vin t'get embarrassed or upset. Lord knows, he's suffering enough right now, physically and mentally, an' I won't let anyone make things worse." There was a note of warning in the clever healer's voice that brooked no argument.
Chris looked at him, and nodded in silent agreement. "I need to get away for a spell, Nathan. Will you be okay for a while? I'll be back later."
"Go. I've got things here I need to see to, and Josiah'll not be too far away." Nathan started to tidy the table as he spoke. He needed time to think himself, and knew he was better for the moment with his own company.
As Chris Larabee left the clinic, Nathan prayed that he would have no interruptions as he attempted to come to terms with that morning's events.
It was much later, and it was getting dark outside. The town lights had already been lit as Nathan turned on the clinic lamps and pulled down the window shutters. In the background he could just make out the faint music from the piano, a sound that heralded the start of the third night's ballet performance. The healer had managed to take a meal break at noon, whilst Josiah had taken up guard duty and watched over the still sleeping tracker, but he hadn't run into Chris Larabee. In fact, none of the other peacekeepers had seen the gunslinger for some time and, although Nathan wasn't surprised at the older man's disappearance, he was still concerned for his friend. He could only hope that Chris was coping with the revelations of that morning.
Sitting now in his rocking chair in the main part of the clinic, Nathan was reading a medical journal, a cup of coffee on the table at his side and, for the first time in many hours, he relaxed in the quiet room. It had been an emotionally draining day and, after Chris left the clinic, the healer had sat in his rocker for a long time, quietly meditating and reading, as he mulled over the problem of the injured tracker. Nathan was convinced that it was only a matter of time before his younger friend's eyesight returned. And, although he didn't feel that anything would change short term, the healer had still been optimistic when, in the middle of the afternoon, his patient had finally woken from his drug-induced sleep. This optimism had been short lived. Vin was still unable to see and, although his general condition had improved slightly, the man had withdrawn even further into himself.
The only point of interest that Vin had expressed was regarding the whereabouts of Chris. The gunslinger had not returned since the morning and the Texan was becoming more fretful with each passing hour of his friend's absence, continually asking where the black dressed man was and even refusing the food that Nathan offered him. Eventually, the healer had been forced to give him a mild sleeping draught and now the tracker was once again asleep, although this time it was a light and fitful slumber.
Nathan looked up as he heard footsteps on the outside stairs, and quickly rose to get his revolver from his gun belt. The door opened to admit Mary Travis closely followed by two members of the ballet troupe. The dancer Gregor Bubka carried Irina Ryksal in his arms, and there was an expression of pain on the girl's face. Both wore dance costumes and stage make-up, and it was obvious they had come straight from the show.
"Nathan, Irina's had a fall and hurt her ankle. Could you take a look at her please?" Mary had a worried look on her face as she gestured to the two Russians.
Putting his revolver back in the holster, Nathan pointed to a chair. "Just set the lady down there, an' I'll take a look at her foot."
The healer went first to wash his hands, and then pulled a low stool in front of where the girl sat. Unfastening the ribbons of her dance shoe, Nathan gently held the girl's left foot, which had already started to swell. He carefully manipulated the ankle, murmuring an apology as she hissed in pain. "I don't think its broken, ma'am, but ya need to rest it, an' have it strapped. I'll put a cold compress on for now, an' that'll help the swelling. Let's get ya on a bed first, and then we'll go from there."
He lifted the girl onto one of the cots, plumping the pillows behind her so she could sit more easily, and then crossed to get the items he needed to deal with the injury. Mary stayed close to the girl as the healer prepared a compress and neither American noticed as the other dancer casually wandered around the room.
Glancing around the clinic in idle interest, Bubka frowned as he saw the screened off area in the corner. His dance shoes made no discernible noise as he first walked to the partition, and then quickly slipped into the separate area. Mary suddenly looked around the room and realised where the other dancer had gone.
"Nathan!"
The healer followed the direction of the woman's alarmed gaze and he almost ran through to the partitioned corner.
"Get away from him!" The fury in the healer's quiet words was evident as he saw just how close the Russian was to the sleeping man.
Bubka had reached the bed and was leaning over Vin Tanner, although the dancer hadn't actually touched the injured peacekeeper. He now whirled around at Nathan's angry cry and, holding up his hands in a gesture of compliance and apology, the man hurried back out to the main room.
At Nathan's angry retort, the tracker had mumbled several unintelligible words, turning in the bed fitfully and moaning a little. Vin's questing hands reached out, grasping at the quilt, and his eyelids fluttered several times, as he subconsciously responded to the harsh voice.
Picking up a cloth, Nathan gently wiped his patient's sweaty brow, whilst speaking soothingly to him. "Hush now, Vin. Shh, go back to sleep. That's good. Jes' ya relax, nice an' easy," the former slave urged in a firm, quiet tone.
It took a few minutes for Nathan to get his restless friend settled but eventually, the tracker gave a small sigh and relaxed, once more asleep. The healer waited for a minute or two, watching the slow rise and fall of the other man's chest, until he was sure that his friend had drifted off completely. Returning to the main room, Nathan grabbed hold of the dancer's arm and angrily swung the man around to face him.
"Just what the hell did y'think ya were doing?" The healer's low voice was lethal, and there was no mistaking the cold menace in it.
"I am very sorry. I did not mean any harm. I was just looking around, and did not realise there was anyone in there. It was not my intention to wake him. It was a mistake."
"A mistake ya ain't gonna repeat!" the peacekeeper snapped furiously. "Y'can jes' wait outside while I see to yer lady friend. I'll call ya when I'm done, so's ya can take her back to the hotel. Understand?" Nathan roughly led the man over to the clinic door.
"Yes. I apologise for my behaviour. I know that Mr. Tanner is still unwell. It was wrong of me to disturb him, but I meant no harm." The man gave Nathan a look of regret, and then without further comment he left the clinic.
Nathan exhaled slowly, as the tension oozed out of him. Where the hell was Chris Larabee when he needed him? The healer would have something to say to the gunslinger when the other man finally returned. Shaking his head, he went back to the girl, who looked embarrassed at her colleague's indiscretion.
"I'm sorry, Miss. I didn't mean to scare ya." The healer's voice had a gentle tone to it.
"Niet. No. It was wrong of Gregor to do that. He has been so different since Anya..." she blinked quickly, dipping her head slightly. "It is not an excuse, but he has been badly affected by her death. He is normally so considerate and kind, but he and Anya were very close. She was special to him, although he too, was very possessive of her. It will be a long time before he gets over her death."
"I didn't know they were friends in that way," Nathan coyly commented, not looking up from the task of bandaging the girl's foot.
"No. I do not think that they were lovers, but there was some kind of attraction. They are both Cossacks, from the Steppes region and they are unlike other Russians. There is a strict code of honour that they have to obey, and that may be why Anya and Gregor seemed to be so close. Anya was my best friend. She was beautiful, clever, and a really talented dancer, but she always seemed to be trapped in relationships that were wrong for her. She is free from all that pain now." The girl smiled bravely.
With a slightly brighter smile, Irina gave a tiny shrug. "I am from the Ukraine, and we have ways that are very different again."
"Yeah. It's a bit like that here in America. We have the City folk, Westerners, Southerners, Injuns', an' many others, but they all have their own unique customs an' ways. Y'can ask Miz Travis 'bout it sometime. Hope you've got a few hours to spare though!" Nathan smiled, as he tucked the bandage in place. "Mary, could ya call that fella back in? I'm finished now an' she needs to rest. Now keep that foot propped up, an' no walking on it, y'hear? I'll drop by tomorrow to check it, okay?" This last part was directed at the girl.
"Thank you," she murmured.
The door opened and Mary re-entered with Bubka in tow. Shooting a sheepish look at the healer, but saying nothing, the dancer carefully lifted Irina, and then carried her out of the clinic.
With the two Russians now out of the way, Nathan started to clear up the bandages and towels that he had been using, whilst Mary straightened the rumpled bed. Neither of them spoke for a time until Mary sat down on a chair, pushing her hair back with a loud sigh.
"What's wrong, ma'am?" The astute healer sensed the woman had something on her mind.
"You know it's really strange, Nathan. I've been to all three of those ballet performances, and also watched them rehearsing during the day, and they are all step perfect. But tonight I could swear that Gregor deliberately dropped Irina when she made that jump. That's how she hurt her ankle. Now why would he do that?" Mary frowned in puzzlement as she gazed at the man.
"I don't rightly know. Mebbe he's grievin' so bad for Anya that his concentration has gone." Nathan shrugged, absently fingering the towel in his hand.
"That could be. But last night he was brilliant, almost flawless, though I would have thought that the shock of her death would have been greater then."
Emptying the basin of water he'd used, the healer nodded thoughtfully. "Hmm. You'd have thought that, I reckon. Well, it may be nuthin', but when I speak to Chris I'll certainly..." Nathan stopped as he heard the sound of something breaking.
Throwing the dirty towel swiftly over his shoulder, the peacekeeper hurried across to the screened off corner.
Vin was desperately struggling to sit up. While trying to feel for a cup on the side table, the sleepy tracker had knocked it off completely, causing the china vessel to shatter on the floor.
"Nathan? 'M'thirsty." The injured man's voice was croaky and lethargic, and he sank back on his pillows once more.
Reaching for another cup the healer filled it with water, and then helped his friend to sit up. Mary had entered the area and was picking up the shards of white china as Vin drunk from the proffered cup. Nathan pulled the dirty towel from his shoulder and, finding a relatively clean corner, he gently wiped the tracker's mouth.
Vin jerked his head away from the material, his nostrils flaring as he gave a few small sniffs. "Urgh! What's that smell? Where the hell've ya bin, Nathan?" he asked his friend.
As Vin took the cup and balanced it on his leg, he continued to sniff, trying to identify the strange odour.
Nathan exchanged a puzzled look with Mary. "M'hands are scrubbed real clean, Vin. But I can't smell anything strange in here. What sort of smell is it?" The former slave swivelled his head around, searching for anything out of place in the immediate vicinity.
"Dunno. It's kinda.... sweet an' greasy. It's real familiar, but... I can't think what it r'minds me of." Vin frowned as he tried to retrieve the memory.
Nathan stared suspiciously at the soiled towel he held and, raising it to his own nose, he drew in a long, deep breath. "Is this the smell, Vin?" he asked, holding the stained cloth close to the tracker's face.
"Yuk! Yeah. Take it away, Nate! It stinks!" Wrinkling his nose at the smell, Vin recoiled, spitting and spluttering a little as he tried to get rid of the pungent aroma that he could now also taste. The tracker gulped down some more water, hoping to wash away the unpleasant vapour.
Nathan held the offending item up, and saw smudges of beige and cream on the towel. Realisation dawned as he sniffed it once again. "It's stage make-up! Irina was covered in it... and... come to think of it, so was Bubka. Vin, d'ya remember waking up a while back?"
"Hmmm? Vaguely. I thought... I heard Chris, but then I realised it was you. Were ya angry?"
"One of the men dancers came in here and disturbed ya. Can y'recall him standing over ya, Vin?" The healer glanced at Mary, as she stood silently listening to their conversation.
"No — I cain't say that I do. And I'd not bin anywhere near 'em before, either. I was some way off from th' stage when I watched Anya dance." Vin yawned as he answered Nathan; his energy was nearly spent even from the small effort of talking.
"That's odd. Perhaps there's a simple explanation though, Vin. Mebbe ya smelt the make-up on Bubka, even if y'can't recall him being in here. Well, it'll keep fer now, 'cos Chris should be here soon, an' we can talk 'bout it with him."
The healer could see that his patient was tiring rapidly, so he took the empty cup from the slack fingers and pulled the cover straight. "Try an' sleep some more, eh?" Nathan suggested, as he gave his friend a small consoling pat on the leg. Placing a finger to his lips, the dark-skinned man indicated to Mary that they should leave the area.
The woman pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders. "I'll leave you in peace, Nathan. If there's anything I can do, you will let me know, won't you?" There was a note of pleading in her quiet tone as the woman prepared to leave, and the healer squeezed her arm reassuringly.
"I will, Mary. Thanks."
He smiled as the woman left the clinic. It was quiet again as Nathan got up to brew fresh coffee. He was tired, and wanted to take a break, but knew he would just have to wait until one of his friends returned. The incident with Gregor Bubka had rattled his nerves and it had highlighted just how vulnerable the clinic could be, especially with an unknown killer on the loose.
As he poured himself a coffee the door quietly opened causing Nathan to whirl around, gun in hand. Chris Larabee entered the room, his hands spread wide as he saw the weapon aimed at him.
"Sorry, Nathan. I didn't mean to startle you." The quietly spoken comment was accompanied by a wry smile.
"Where the hell've ya bin, Chris?" Nathan scowled darkly, but he kept his voice deliberately low.
"I... I needed some time to think and the only way I could clear my head was... Well, I've been chopping fire logs for Mrs. Potter most of the afternoon."
The older man shrugged nonchalantly, and then eyed the partitioned corner suspiciously. "What's wrong, Nathan? Is Vin alright?"
Nathan nodded briefly and, pouring the older man a cup of coffee, he then gestured for Chris to sit as he began relating the earlier incident involving the two dancers. Chris leaned back in his chair thoughtfully as his friend finished speaking.
"Did he have a weapon on him, Nathan?" the gunslinger enquired softly.
The healer snorted derisively. "Yer joking — right? You've seen the costumes those fellas' wear. I don't think he could conceal a toothpick on his person, let alone a gun or knife! No, he didn't touch Vin — he jes' looked. It was kinda strange, that's all."
"I think I'll be having another word with Mr. Bubka real soon. The show's still going on, so it'd be best to wait 'til later. By the way, Ezra should be bringing some food over for us soon. I asked Inez for some chicken hotpot for Vin too. How's he been, Nathan?" Chris swallowed the rest of his coffee as he waited for the healer's response.
"Very restless. He was asking fer ya, Chris. Y'were longer than I thought ya'd be." The healer's obvious rebuke made the older man purse his lips as Nathan continued. "I gave him a sleeping draught a whiles back jes' to try an' get 'im settled, but he seems a bit stronger in himself so I think I'll try and get him up tomorrow. That may give him something else to ponder."
Chris said nothing as he stared into his empty cup, but Nathan could guess what was going through the other man's mind.
The clinic door slowly opened, dragging Chris out of his sombre thoughts, and Ezra entered, carefully balancing a large tray while back heeling the door closed behind him.
"Inez has prepared you all a sumptuous feast to tantalise the taste buds. And I must say, the chicken dish that she has cunningly produced for Mr. Tanner smells quite exquisite." The gambler whipped the cloth from the tray and kissed his fingers with a dramatic flourish. "If this doesn't help our friend recover his strength, then I am at a loss as to what will."
Ezra lifted a covered pan from the tray and put it safely on a side table by Nathan's small stove, and then proceeded to distribute the remaining dishes, plates and cutlery onto the table where the other men still sat.
The three sat quietly eating for some time. Ezra eyed both Chris and Nathan curiously during the meal; there was a tension between the two peacekeepers that had the gambler baffled, although he wouldn't dream of asking either man what the problem was. It was clear that the pair were not going to elaborate, so the Southerner resolved to try and get to the bottom of the problem.
Pushing his plate away, Nathan retold the event involving Gregor Bubka, and a short discussion then ensued, although none of the men could guess the significance of the dancer's actions. Chris assured the healer that he would not leave the clinic unprotected again, even if it meant pulling in additional help. The gunslinger could see that Nathan had been badly shaken by the incident and, once again, Chris blamed himself for putting his two friends at risk.
Ezra toyed absently with a spoon on the table unsure whether to put forward the plan that had been fermenting in his mind. Thinking again about what the healer had said regarding the dancer, Ezra took a deep breath and decided to speak to the two men.
"Gentlemen, I have had some time to think about this attack and I think we may be approaching this problem the wrong way." Ezra leant forward slightly, both hands resting on the table.
"What's on your mind?" Chris asked, studying the gambler's face intently.
"Well, we seem to have reached an impasse on our current situation. So would it not be prudent to provide a small incentive to the unknown person, or persons, to force them to make another move?" Ezra gave a small smile.
"Just say what you mean, dammit!" Chris was starting to lose patience with the other man, and the comment came out louder than he intended.
Nathan quickly glanced over to the partitioned corner, putting a finger to his lips as he glared a warning at his two friends.
Ezra shifted in his chair. "I'm sorry, Nathan. Tomorrow is the last day of the celebrations and, shortly after the grand finale firework display has finished, this town will start to empty of all the visitors and performers. The assailant, if he has not already fled, will also be gone."
Nathan sighed heavily. The gambler could be really annoying when he was like this, but the healer doggedly held his emotions in check. "When are ya gonna tell us summat we don't already know, Ezra?"
"If Mr. Tanner is well enough tomorrow, I think he should be seen, ambulatory and cognisant, walking around the town. The riding contest is tomorrow, and Mr. Dunne has somehow managed to qualify for the final, so I think it wholly appropriate that his injured friend should watch the race to support the young sheriff's efforts. Also, our recuperating tracker would have need of sustenance to aid his recovery and could partake of a meal at the restaurant. And then, it would not be untoward for a delicious meal to be followed by a cold beer and maybe a friendly game of poker with several of his fellow peacekeepers." Ezra raised his eyebrows with a hopeful expression on his face.
"POKER!"
Two voices echoed the surprise they felt. Chris leant towards the gambler, and grabbed the front of the younger man's jacket, pulling him slightly closer.
"How the hell's a blind man gonna play poker? And you're suggesting that we set Vin up as a target. What're you gonna do? Pin a circle on his back, walk him down the street and invite the killer to take another shot at him!" The cold fury in Chris' voice was enough to make Ezra visibly flinch.
"Take it easy, Chris. Ezra's only makin' a suggestion. Let 'im finish," the healer said, in a quietly soothing tone.
The older man contemptuously released the gambler's jacket, and Ezra carefully straightened his clothing.
The gambler opened his mouth to speak, and then quickly closed it again. Glancing at the healer for encouragement he took a deep breath and continued with his proposition.
"Mr. Larabee, it is not my intention to incur your wrath, and I realise that my plan may sound somewhat bizarre, but with careful planning by myself and rehearsals with Vin... waal, I believe we could make it work. We may need the additional presence of Miz Travis, as it would not be unusual for a gentlemen as gallant as Mr. Tanner, to escort a lady through the street, in order to take up an advantageous position to view the horse race. Again, the poker game would be played by several of us but, with a little manipulation on my part, Vin would have the benefit of knowing what hands everyone is playing, himself included. I know that our young friend has an excellent memory and will remember the sequence of hands that I deal to the players. The important thing is making it look as normal as possible. Unless, Mr. Jackson, you feel that his injuries are still too serious to allow his participation?" Ezra looked expectantly at his two friends as he finished speaking.
"Waal, Ezra, I always thought that ya 'manipulated' the cards when we played anyhow! So I know what ya mean. I think Vin could be well enough by tomorrow afternoon, but he'd 'ave to take it real slow, an' he'd need quite a bit of help t'get around town too." Nathan rubbed his face thoughtfully, staring at the silent gunslinger.
"Nathan, I don't believe that you're going along with this fool idea!" Chris looked in utter amazement at the purposeful expression on the healer's face.
Vin Tanner lay in the bed quietly listening to his friends talking as they ate. He had only just woken up, and felt warm and drowsy and not quite ready to alert anyone to his wakeful state, wanting to have a few minutes of privacy as he thought about his continued blindness. He knew that his friends were worried about him, but he felt that the best idea was to try and distance himself from them, as he couldn't allow them to ruin his plan. As he continued to lie there, he started to assess his physical condition.
Vin was surprised to find that he felt much stronger now, if still a little light-headed from the medicinal herbs and drugs that Nathan had dosed him with. The sharp, throbbing pain that had been behind his left eye was almost gone, along with the tight pressure that had been caused by the bruised swelling down the whole side of his face. His stomach suddenly growled, and he realised he was hungry; he'd not eaten since breakfast and had no idea how long he had slept or even what time of day or night it was.
Carefully rolling onto his right side, he slowly attempted to sit up. A dull pain shot through his torso and his back, but it was bearable, not the aching burning feeling it had been yesterday, or even when he had woken that morning. Taking a deep breath, he experimentally swung his legs out of bed, his bare feet twitching on the cold floor. A little unsteadily at first, he began to walk slowly along the side of the bed. Feeling out with his left hand, he felt the wooden carved knob that was on the foot base and, trailing his fingers along the bottom rail, he soon reached the other end. Then with a small inward sigh, he put his arms out straight in front of him and started to shuffle forward very carefully.
The other three men had continued talking and, coming to a halt, Vin now concentrated on what was being said by his friends, as he heard his own name spoken by an angry-sounding Chris Larabee.
"Waal, Chris, I think Ezra may have hit 'pon a good idea. It may force someone's hand. Hell, we're not getting anywhere the way things are goin' — an' we're running outta time." Nathan gave the older man a meaningful look.
"Mr. Larabee, what harm could come to Mr. Tanner. We would all be on high alert for any imminent danger or trouble and, as Mr. Jackson has quite rightly pointed out, we may not get another opportunity to bring the perpetrator of this heinous crime to justice."
"I just don't think it's worth the risk," Chris replied stubbornly.
"I hate to disagree wit' ya, Chris, but I think it is." Nathan's tone was adamant.
"An' so do I."
The three whirled around to see a nightshirt clad Vin Tanner standing by the end of the screen. Nathan hurried over to the man, gently supporting him as they slowly made their way back to the table. Ezra pulled another chair up, and then fetched the blanket that the healer pointed to.
"Well, if you're up, at least let me get you settled and warm, and then ya need to eat summat." Nathan snorted huffily. Draping the offered blanket around the pale-looking tracker's shoulders, the healer eased his friend gently down into the chair.
"Wish you'd stop a-fussin', Nate. I ain't gonna pass out on ya. I'm hungry, an' I want t'hear what Ezra's gotta say!"
The determined look on his younger friend's face made Chris Larabee frown, as he thought about the conversation the three men had been having. It seemed like any decision about Ezra's idea being utilised would be out of his hands; there was no concealing the set look on Vin's feature's, and the gunslinger knew that the tracker wanted the plan to go ahead.
Nathan filled a cup with water and pressed the drink into Vin's hand, before crossing to his stove to reheat the meal that Ezra had put aside earlier.
Chris rose as the dark-skinned peacekeeper set a bowl down on the table in front of the tracker. The gunslinger wanted to talk to Gregor Bubka before the Russian wandered too far, as Chris knew that the dancers' would probably now be in the bathhouse. It was the perfect place for a private conversation.
"Gents, I need to speak to Bubka. It shouldn't take too long and I'll be back later. Ezra, why don't you go over your ideas with Vin, 'cos it seems that's the way forward, but try an' figure something else for the horse race. I don't want to put Mary in any danger." Chris adjusted his hat, preparing to leave.
"Hold on fer a while, Chris. I could use a breather. I'll walk with ya fer a spell. Ezra, can y'help Vin to eat some food? Vin, no heroics! If ya feel tired, get in bed an' sleep. Ezra, I'm relying on ya, though God knows why!" Nathan shrugged his jacket on, picking up his hat as he spoke. Vin gave a plucky smile.
"Nathan, I ain't yer chick, so jes' quit cluckin' an' go. Reckon Ezra can fill me in on what's bin happening."
Chris grinned at the healer. "Vin's right, Nathan. Y'can be a real pain in the butt at times! And Vin — if you don't do as Nathan says, you'll have me on at you! Ezra, don't take any chances. Lock the door behind us, keep your gun handy — and don't let anyone in 'til either Nathan or me returns."
Ezra saluted crisply, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth at the other man's emphatic statement. The gambler wasn't offended by his friends' comments. He knew how Chris felt about the tracker and, while he and Nathan sometimes vehemently argued, he nonetheless had a great respect for the clever, compassionate healer.
Chris and Nathan hastened out, closing the door softly behind them. Before Ezra had a chance to get up, the door burst open again and Chris Larabee's head poked around the frame.
"DOOR, Ezra!" the gunslinger roared angrily.
Ezra jumped and, slightly chagrined, he swiftly rose to shut and bolt the door. "Sorry!" he called out to the now departing men.
Chris Larabee and Nathan Jackson strolled along the main street, both silent as they thought about the conversation with the gambler.
"I'm pleased to see Vin up. If this plan of Ezra's is gonna work, he'll need to 'ave 'is wits about 'im tomorrow," Nathan commented to the man walking beside him.
"Yeah. At least it's given him summat to think about. I know that Vin's real keen to find the girl's killer. I just hope he don't become victim number two in the process," Chris replied grimly.
The healer nodded. "Ya realise that whatever happens tomorrow, if Vin still can't see anything, they'll be no holdin' him back. He will go, Chris," Nathan said forcefully.
"I know that, but at least this foolish scheme of Ezra's will give us a bit more time."
There was a note of resignation in the older man's voice, and the healer knew that there was nothing more they could do or say on the matter.
"Y'know Chris, I understand why ya don't want Mary involved, but if Vin's gonna pull off this deception tomorrow then I think Mary's presence is vital. I know she'd be willing to help, and we need to give Vin all the support we can — an' I mean that in a literal way too. We'll be there making sure nuthin' happens to the boy, but that goes the same fer Mary 'n' all."
The two had stopped outside the bathhouse, and seeing movement inside, they leaned on the front rail to wait until someone exited.
"Mebbe. I'll think on it some and we can make a final decision in the morning. We'll need to get the others up to the clinic too and tell 'em the plan. Lord! Ezra's gonna be in his element!" Chris chuckled quietly.
"Insufferable is the word yer lookin' fer, Chris. Joking aside, if nuthin' untoward happens to spoil things, I've a feelin' this might jes' work. We can only but try." Nathan casually glanced up and down the street as he spoke.
"Yep." The gunslinger's attention was now fixed on the bathhouse door, as he saw a silhouetted figure flit across the illuminated door shutter.
"Chris, I'd like to stay while ya talk to Bubka," Nathan quietly stated.
"Fair enough, pard." Chris walked forward as the door opened and Piotr Alekseyev came out.
The tall Russian dancer started in surprise, as the two peacekeepers approached him.
"Howdy. Is Mr. Bubka still in there?" Chris asked the man.
Piotr nodded. "Yes, he is just dressing. Can I help at all?"
"Nope. We just need to speak to your friend for a minute. He'll be out when we finish."
Chris and Nathan entered the dimly lit bathhouse, and saw Gregor Bubka sitting on a small bench pulling on socks that he'd just extracted from a small leather travel bag. With a puzzled frown, the dancer looked up at the two older men.
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Larabee?" he asked.
"Not yet. I just have a couple more questions for you, Bubka," Chris answered in a short, clipped voice.
The gunslinger leant his shoulder against the wall next to the dancer, as he spoke, and Nathan sat down on another bench at a right angle to the one occupied by Bubka. Neither man spoke for a minute or two, but Chris noticed that the dancer's hand shook a little as he pulled the bag straps closed. Reaching up to the shelf immediately above Bubka's head, Chris found a shaving blade. Almost casually, he started to pick dirt from under his fingernails with the sharp point and, not looking up from his hands, the gunslinger started questioning the nervous Russian.
"Can you tell me why you were snooping around Vin Tanner at the clinic tonight?" The gunslinger asked in a hard voice.
"I...I did not intend any harm. I saw Mr. Tanner and I wanted to thank him for trying to help Anya. I have apologised t... to M... M... Mr. Jackson." The man's voice had a tremor to it, and he looked frantically at Nathan for confirmation.
"Tell me again where you were and what you did the evening Anya died." Chris still studied his fingers, the blade glinting dully as he continued to pick at his fingernails.
"W... well, I spoke to Anya before bathing, and then I went to the b... barn dance where I met Piotr. Then we watched the f... fireworks for a short time. After that, Piotr and I walked to the restaurant to meet the others for a meal. We all sat in the hotel foyer for an hour or so drinking coffee and talking about the performance. And then I went to bed." It was evident that the man was terrified. His eyes were fixed on the blade that Chris held, and the dancer's hand trembled as he wiped sweat from his forehead.
Chris stared impassively at the Russian, as he rolled the handle of the sharp blade in between two of his fingers. "Did you kill Anya Koklova?"
"NO!" Bubka eyes had widened in horror at the gunslinger's question and he screamed out his denial. "I loved her! She was my friend; we grew up together in Russia. I could never harm her! Never!" The man wiped his eyes with his sleeve, as tears began to run down his cheeks.
Chris glanced at Nathan, who had sat quietly listening during the interrogation.
"When ya danced tonight, what made ya drop Irina when she took her jump?" Nathan enquired.
Confusion registered on the Russian's face as he thought about the question. He quickly looked at Nathan again. "I... I thought I saw someone I knew at the back of the audience." He shook his head slowly. "But it must have been a mistake. The light was not good. I lost my concentration for a moment, and my timing was slightly off which caused me to drop Irina. Madame was furious with me, but I am angry with myself more. It was a stupid mistake. Irina may not be able to dance tomorrow, and it is my fault."
"So it was an accident then?" Chris had stopped fiddling with the blade; he now held it quite still, lightly balanced in his hand.
"Yes!"
Bubka's reply was emphatic as Chris reached up and replaced the blade back on the shelf. "Are y... you arresting m... me?" the dancer stammered. The man had a look of fearful resignation on his tear-streaked face, and it was clear that he thought he would shortly be languishing in the town's jail.
Chris pursed his lips thoughtfully, gazing at the apprehensive Russian before finally replying to the question. "Nope."
The dancer seemed to collapse in on himself in sheer relief. "I did not kill Anya, Mr. Larabee. I want to find her killer too. Her spirit will not rest until he has been found and punished."
"Waal, this is my investigation, Mr. Bubka, and I won't tolerate interference from anyone. For now I'm finished with you, but if I need to speak to you again it will be 'cos you're my number one suspect. If that happens, you might think about getting yourself a lawyer." Chris went towards the door, followed closely by the healer.
As they walked out onto the street in the direction of the saloon, Chris gave a loud sigh.
"D'ya think he did it, Chris?" Nathan wanted to know.
"Mebbe. My head says yes, but my gut tells me no. He could just be a good actor, but it's hard to say. What do you think?"
Nathan puffed his cheeks, blowing out his breath as he thought over the evidence his friend had gathered. "I don't think he did it. But don't ask me fer a reason why I'm a'sayin' it. D'ya think it was wise to accuse 'im though? Especially with what we plan fer tomorrow."
"Waal, he knows we suspect him, but who's to say he'll make a move because of it. Of course, he could be innocent. Hell, Nathan, summat just doesn't sit right with this whole damn episode!"
The healer could hear the frustration in the other man's voice. "Do you reckon there's summat the dance folk are not tellin' us? It sounds to me like they've bin mighty co-operative," Nathan remarked, frowning in puzzlement.
"No. I think in the main they've told me what they can. I just think there could be some piece of information; probably an itsy bitsy fact that they don't realise is important. I dunno, Nathan, my head's spinning just thinking about it! I need a beer, and hopefully if I see Josiah or Buck then I'll tell 'em about tomorrow. We need to get together the seven of us and talk tactics. Are you coming for a drink?"
Nathan laughed, nodding vigorously. "A quick beer, then I'd best get back to the clinic. Lord knows what Ezra's bin up to, but I bet yer life Vin ain't resting!"
"He's gonna have to, if he wants this plan to succeed," Chris replied dryly.
"Don't ya worry none. I've got my own plan o' action worked out for our stubborn Mr. Tanner!" Nathan chuckled, deviously. "Mammy hen! That boy won't know what's hit 'im!"
After finishing their beer at the saloon, the two peacekeepers made their way back to the clinic. Chris had spoken at length to Josiah, the only one of his colleagues who'd been around. As Nathan had already guessed, the ex-preacher was in complete agreement with Ezra's plan and he informed Chris that he would talk to Buck and JD. The three had collectively agreed to meet at noon the following day, up at the clinic. Nathan felt that this was late enough in the day for the injured tracker to be ready.
On reaching the clinic door, Chris rapped several times, calling Ezra's name. The iron bolt shot across and the gambler opened the door, flamboyantly ushering the two men inside.
Vin Tanner still sat at the table wrapped in the blanket, an empty cup in front of him and, glancing across to the discarded meal tray, Nathan saw that a small portion of the food had been eaten. The observant healer studied his patient closely, noticing how washed out the tracker looked. The man's unseeing eyes shone almost feverishly, his hair clinging damply to his sweaty forehead and it was obvious that Vin hadn't rested in the time that the two peacekeepers had been away. The healer could feel the anger building in him — and it was directed entirely at Ezra Standish.
"Ezra, what the hell d'ya think you've bin doin'? Vin needs to rest. He's nigh on out on his feet an' you've jes' bin yappin' on, no doubt. I can't think when I last met someone as self-centred and unthinking as you! Dammit! I knew it was a big mistake leavin' ya here alone. Get out, before I do something I'll regret!" Nathan's angry tirade made Vin jump, and he pulled the blanket closer around him in a protective gesture.
Ezra also flinched at the healer's scornful comments. He had never seen Nathan so furious, but he felt ashamed that the anger was caused by his own lack of foresight. He hadn't meant to tire his friend; he could see that the man was still sick, but Vin had kept asking him questions, needing to get it straight in his own mind about what would occur tomorrow. Besides, the tracker was a grown man, more than able to make his own decisions. However, now looking at Vin's white face and trembling hands, the gambler realised his mistake. He was supposed to be helping his friend and he'd just made things worse.
"It's alright, Nathan, it was my fault. I wanted t'know more an' we jes' got carried away. I think I'd like t'sleep fer a bit now." The tracker's quiet words were slurred with exhaustion.
Ezra ran his hand through his hair. "No. Mr. Jackson is quite right, I should have been more responsible and I have acted like a complete fool. I will return to the saloon. It is the one thing that I seem to be good at. Gentlemen, if you still want me to help instigate this scheme tomorrow then I am at your disposal, and will be glad to assist. If not, then I understand completely." Ezra picked up the food tray and hurriedly left the clinic.
Chris had stood silently watching the interplay between healer and gambler. He tried not to get involved, especially when it was Nathan and Ezra arguing. The two always managed to rub each other up the wrong way, although when they were involved in their duties as town peacekeepers the gunslinger knew that both men totally respected and trusted one another. Following this latest altercation, Chris was certain that Ezra would go back to the saloon and drink whiskey until he was completely comatose. Nathan would probably slam around for a while, muttering dire threats to the absent gambler until he calmed down enough to see reason. Then later, the healer would feel a little guilty for shouting at Ezra in front of the other two men.
Nathan went to stand at the side of the immobile tracker and, directing a worried glance at Chris, he crouched down so that his head was virtually level with his seated friend.
"Vin, can ya walk? I'd like to git ya back inter bed," Nathan said gently, touching the Texan's arm.
Vin closed his eyes briefly and nodded. "Yeah, I can make it, Nate. I think ya were a mite hard on Ezra. He thought he was doin' the right thing."
"I know, Vin. Don't ya worry 'bout Ezra — his skins pretty tough. Now, let's help ya up, eh?" Nathan stood up, putting a strong arm around the trembling man's shoulders.
As Nathan got Vin standing, the injured peacekeeper suddenly started to shake violently and he coughed several times, his face screwing up with the pain of the hacking spasm. The healer rubbed the younger man's back, but his worry increased as the tracker tiredly sagged against him.
"I'm c... c... cold N... athan!" Vin's teeth chattered uncontrollably and his lips were almost blue. A cold sweat had broken out on the tracker's waxy-looking skin and the man's long hair hung in damp straggly coils.
Alarmed by this new development, Chris hurriedly came to the other side of Vin and gently took his other arm. Between the two older men, they half led and partially carried the stumbling tracker back to his bed.
"Chris, get me an extra blanket. He's freezing!" Nathan laid the shivering man down, spreading the additional cover over him while pulling the whole pile up to the tracker's chin. Vin was still wrapped in the first blanket, but even with three heavy layers over him, the younger man could not seem to stop shaking.
"What the hell's wrong with him? And why's he coughing again?" Chris was an extremely worried man, and astounded by the rapid onset of his friend's chill.
"He's still a little shocked an' weak from blood loss, Chris. An' he's awfully tired an' cold. I don't think he's got a chill or fever as such, but he does need to rest. Problem is — I can't give him any more drugs fer now. He's had 'bout as much as is good fer him. I had planned to dose him at two or thereabouts so's he got a good nights rest, but I think I may have to change things now. Stay with him fer a moment." The healer didn't know why he'd added that last sentence. He could see from the resolute look on Chris' features, that wild horses or even the offer of bedding several women at once wouldn't have prised the gunslinger from Vin's side at that precise moment.
Nathan went out to the main part of the clinic, returning shortly with a corked earthenware flagon filled with boiling water. Wrapping a thin cloth around the hot vessel, the healer lifted the covers at the bottom of the bed, and then placed the warmer in between Vin's bare feet, before tucking the blankets back around to keep the heat in.
Sitting in his seat once more, Nathan picked up a dry cloth and started to wipe the droplets of sweat from the tracker's white face. Vin's eyes were closed and the healer could see that his friend was exhausted, but he was simply too cold to sleep properly. Nathan knew he had to get some warmth back into his patient as quickly as possible, or risk the already debilitated man developing pneumonia. Leaving the cloth on the tracker's forehead, Nathan went to get a towel from the supply dresser and, returning to his seat once again, he wrapped the towel, shawl-style, around Vin's head, covering his ears and tucking the ends in under his chin. The only part of the man that was now visible was his mouth, nose and closed eyes.
Fifteen minutes ticked by, and Vin started to feel a little warmer. His teeth had ceased their chattering some time ago, but the shaking continued spasmodically as his body temperature slowly returned to normal. With a small contented sigh the tracker wriggled in the bed, moving his feet slightly away from the still hot water bottle.
Chris had sat silently watching as Nathan worked, and he now leaned forward as he saw the younger man move his legs.
"Vin?"
The gunslinger briefly touched the drowsy man's cheek, heartily relieved to discover that the other's skin didn't feel as icy as it had.
"Mmm?" The Texan was too tired to even speak. His eyes flicked open momentarily, and then closed once again as sleep finally claimed him.
Taking the cloth away, Nathan briefly felt the tracker's forehead. Reaching for his stethoscope, the healer warmed the metal plate in his hand, before sliding it underneath the blankets to check his friend's breathing. Giving Chris a fleeting smile of encouragement, Nathan then checked Vin's body temperature.
"He ain't got a problem wit' his breathing, and there ain't no congestion, so I think he'll be fine after a full nights sleep," the healer whispered to the anxiously watching gunslinger. Stowing away his stethoscope, Nathan adjusted the blankets closer around his patient's still form and, finally satisfied that the younger man was now warm and sleeping, he and then gestured to the other peacekeeper to leave the area.
Nathan sat down heavily at the table, as Chris went to get the bottle of whiskey that he knew the healer kept in the cupboard. Pouring two glasses, the gunslinger set one in front of Nathan. He could sense the latent anger in his friend and, now that the medical crisis had passed, the older man patiently waited for the other to speak.
Looking gratefully at Chris, Nathan picked up the glass and downed the drink in one gulp — an action that was most uncharacteristic of the healer.
"I could throttle Ezra Standish! No! Come to think of it, that'd be too kind. It's not often I feel that a man needs to suffer, but Lord help me, if that fancy talking, no-good gambler comes near me now, I swear I'll do somethin' I know I'll regret! Dammit Chris, he jes' can't be trusted! The man is totally self-absorbed an' a real menace!" The healer had kept his voice deliberately low, but there was no mistaking the fury in his words.
Chris nodded wordlessly. The gunslinger himself had on many occasions been enraged with Ezra and, in fact, one of those times was scarcely more than two hours ago. So he had a notion of what the healer felt. Chris knew that Ezra was very wary of him, and also that the gambler tried to avoid confrontation with Nathan, but he was aware that the man had a great respect and close friendship for Vin Tanner. The gunslinger was sure that the gambler would not knowingly put the tracker's life in danger. It just seemed that Ezra had an uncanny knack of doing or saying the wrong thing at a completely inappropriate time, usually resulting in something happening that could have been avoided.
Although the man could be described as self-seeking and volatile, he did surprise his friends at times by some of the crazy stunts he pulled. Some of the townsfolk considered the gambler reckless, while others thought him cowardly, but sometimes Chris wondered if the man had some kind of death wish, as he seemed to revel in taking personal risks to the absolute limit. However, the gunslinger had to admit that Ezra usually managed to come out relatively unscathed, and generally his actions were for the benefit of others.
In many ways though, the man was like a vulnerable child, forever seeking approval of his deeds, whilst having a yearning desire to feel wanted. Unfortunately, it was this, coupled with a need to be accepted, that often proved to be a catalyst, resulting in the gambler being totally misunderstood and misjudged. The ensuing arguments would then drive Ezra into a period of drunken, outrageous behaviour, eventually ending in self-pity and depression. The only one of his friends who could break through the gambler's thin veneer of self-depreciation was Vin. The intuitive tracker was somehow able to reach out and mend any divisions between his fellow peacekeepers, although it wasn't something that Vin was consciously aware of doing. It just seemed to happen.
Chris gazed thoughtfully at Nathan. Now that the healer had vented his anger he knew that his friend felt better, but what worried him more was the thought of what Ezra might say publicly tonight, as he started on the inevitable drinking binge in the saloon.
Picking up his own glass, and taking a gulp of the fiery liquid, Chris raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "I know you're probably right, Nathan, but at the moment we need — no — Vin needs Ezra's help. I'm not trying to defend him, but I honestly think he has Vin's best interest at heart."
Nathan rolled the empty glass around in his hands, as he thought about what his friend had said. With a sigh, the healer nodded imperceptibly. "Mebbe. He jes' has a funny way of showing it! Two hours ago I thought this plan might work. But now, seeing how Vin is... well, I'm not so sure."
"Whatever happens in the morning, I can tell you without a doubt that Vin will make this scheme happen. Nathan, he thinks he's got nothing to lose, so he won't be listening to anyone who tries to tell him otherwise. We can only give him as much help as possible — and that must involve Ezra." Chris' quiet tone was firm as he took another sip of his drink.
"Yeah, I know. Just don't expect me to apologise to the man!" Nathan scowled heatedly. "I'm only relenting 'cos I want to do what's best fer the boy."
Chris smiled fondly. "Yeah, it's kinda strange how he has that effect on all of us. Will he be up to it by the morning, d'you think?"
"I hope so. I'll let him sleep naturally fer now, but later I'll give him a sedative, which'll keep him under 'til noon or just after. There's not much more I can do. He'll need to rest later in the afternoon though, and persuading Mr. Stubborn-ass to do that ain't gonna be easy!" Nathan frowned, as he chewed over the problem.
"Someone'll just hav'ta convince him, won't they?" Chris chuckled, although he knew that the tracker would be on his guard in front of his fellow peacekeepers, more so himself and Nathan.
The healer nodded thoughtfully, as he scrubbed at his chin. "Hmm. Mebbe Mary will help, or perhaps even Inez. Vin trusts both of 'em, so he won't be expecting anything to come from that direction. I'm sure we can find an answer to that problem at least!"
Chris finished his drink, and then stood up. "I think I'll take a stroll down to the saloon before I turn in. The last thing we need is Ezra drowning hisself in a bottle and letting slip what we've got planned for tomorrow. I shouldn't be too long, I feel pretty tired myself and we'll all need a clear head in the morning."
"Yeah. I expect Ezra'll need a pain powder fer his hangover tomorrow. It might be easier fer us all if ya lock him in the jail overnight. Leastways then he's out of everyone's hair — an' it'll keep him sober!" Nathan gave a wry grin.
"Nope, just leave it to me. The man will listen if he knows what's good for him. Lock the door behind me, Nathan." The older man opened the door as he spoke, and with a final nod at the other, he left the quiet clinic.
Once he'd locked the door behind the gunslinger, Nathan started to tidy the table and sort out the various cups and towels he'd used, before crossing to his dresser to mix a sleeping draught in readiness for later. Satisfied that his clinic was now relatively clean and orderly, he finally lay down on his bed to rest while he waited for the return of Chris Larabee.
Feedback to Author