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
"NO! Vin!"
Chris' anguished cry immediately roused the dozing healer. With practised ease, Nathan hastily wrung out the cloth in the basin beside him, before turning his attention to the delirious man.
The gunslinger was frantically trying to kick the covers away, his head rocking from side to side as the fever took a firm hold. Chris was covered with sweat, and Nathan expertly sponged his friend's face and neck, while speaking soothingly to the agitated man.
"Easy, Chris. Shh, easy now. Vin's safe, yer safe. Try an' relax. It's jes' after seven, an' I don't want Mary woken up. You've gotta rest, y'hear?"
Chris' eyes fluttered open a look of sudden recognition crossing his features and he immediately stopped the wild thrashing.
The healer smiled broadly, as the ragged breathing slowed and his friend visibly relaxed. "That's more like it. Lie still while I finish this, and then ya can have some water."
Nathan eventually dropped the cloth back in the basin before reaching across for a cup on the side table. Lifting the older man's head, he let his friend drink deeply, thankful that he was at least able to get some fluids into one of his patients.
Pushing the cup away, Chris sank back onto his pillows, hazel eyes staring suspiciously at Nathan. "There's summat you're not telling me. It's Vin, isn't it? Dammit, Nathan, what's wrong?" Even to his own ears, Chris' croaky voice held little strength, but he needed to know more about the injured tracker.
Nathan refilled the water cup slowly, deliberating over the questions his friend had just asked. While the healer didn't want to alarm Chris, especially as the older man was far from well himself, he knew that the gunslinger would fret even more by not being told the truth. Picking up the damp cloth again, Nathan folded it lengthways and laid it across Chris' forehead.
"Yeah. Chris, he's bin hurt real bad, but it's not the physical injuries that're causing the problem. It's not easy to explain, an' I've not seen anythin' like it before, but it's like he's given up," the healer said softly, as he studied the older man's reaction carefully.
Chris closed his eyes, swallowing hard as Nathan's words sunk in. Looking at the healer again, he frowned. "What are you trying to say, Nathan? I thought you said he didn't hurt his head? Dammit! I don't understand! What are you telling me?"
Chris' flurry of questions had an almost hysterical sound to them and Nathan began to wonder if he'd done the right thing in sharing with his ailing friend his own increasing consternation, regarding the tracker's condition. Touching the other's hand briefly, he could see that the gunslinger was struggling to control his growing fear, but there was no turning back now; the older man would have to face up to the bitter reality. With a sad shake of his head, the healer tried to make Chris understand, although he knew he couldn't give his friend the reassurance he so desperately craved.
"It's like he's lost the will to live. I've checked him over thoroughly, countless times — an' there's no head injury. The only thing we can do is sit wit' him an' talk to him. That may be the only way of bringing him back to us. I can't tell ya any more than that. Lord, I wish I could give ya a better answer, but I can't."
At Nathan's quietly spoken reply, Chris had wearily closed his eyes again. He hadn't thought things could get any worse. When he had fallen semi-conscious on the hotel staircase, and then heard the sound of the tracker's Winchester being fired, an icy chill had enveloped him, as he feared for his friend's life. However, on reaching Vin's unmoving form and seeing that the tracker hadn't actually been shot, he was sure that the man still lived; a fact Nathan had confirmed when Chris had first woken up.
Now, on hearing the healer's candid assessment of Vin's physical state, Chris felt as if his world had fallen apart around him. This feeling of utter desolation now intensified as the gunslinger blamed himself for the second attack on his friend.
Licking his dry lips, Chris continued to dwell on Nathan's words, ignoring his pounding head and the sharp pain pulsating in tandem in his shoulder. After everything that had happened since the killer had first struck, he found it difficult to accept that Vin's life could slip away that easily. The tracker had a strong spirit with a passion for life, but thinking about what Nathan had just said Chris felt sure that the Texan had almost certainly found a solution to his problem. With the prospect of continued blindness, Vin had probably already taken the first step to ultimately end his personal dilemma and, although it was unlikely that this was manner in which the tracker would have preferred it to happen, the final conclusion would be no different.
Looking worriedly at his friend, Nathan removed the warm cloth from Chris' forehead. The older man had existed on nervous energy in the four days since Vin had been shot, and lack of food and proper sleep had severely depleted his reserves of strength. With the serious wound to his shoulder, blood loss, plus the fever that gripped him, this now meant that the gunslinger was also extremely weak. Guessing what was going through his friend's mind Nathan cursed himself silently, regretting his decision to give Chris the full details of Vin's condition and praying that the older man's health didn't decline further as a result of his mistake.
"Chris?"
The other man wasn't asleep, but he didn't respond to the healer's quiet voice and his eyes remained firmly closed. Chris was quietly submissive as the healer inspected his bandaged shoulder, not even objecting when Nathan picked up a slack wrist to check his pulse.
Immediately recognising the symptoms of shock, the healer released his patient's hand with a softly spoken curse, and then quickly crossed to his medicine dresser to mix powders in a cup.
Returning to his seat once more, he slipped a firm but gentle hand behind Chris' neck, lifting his friend's head slightly, as he placed the cup to his lips. "C'mon, Chris, I want ya to drink this," the healer gently coaxed.
With a low moan as the small movement jarred his shoulder, Chris obediently sipped the sleeping draught, gagging a little at the sour liquid.
This rare display of passive compliance gave Nathan a clear indication of how distressed his friend was, as the normally recalcitrant gunslinger hated being fussed over when sick or injured. "Drink it all. I know it ain't very nice, but as my ole Grandma used t'say, if it tastes awful then it must be doing ya some good. That's it."
Nathan lowered the man's head, putting the empty cup on the side table and wringing out the cloth again he carefully wiped Chris' mouth, face and neck. Studying the older man intently as he worked, the healer saw the other's pain wracked features start to relax, his breathing becoming easier as the powerful drug began to work. Tossing the cloth into the basin, Nathan reached for his stethoscope, placing the listening plate on his friend's chest. Taking no notice of Chris' soft murmuring, Nathan continued with his examination, and was heartened to discover that the gunslinger's temperature seemed to be slightly lower.
Finally satisfied, Nathan adjusted the cover closer over his sleeping patient and rose to brew fresh coffee. He would see to Vin again while he waited for the coffee, and then hoped to get some more rest himself before Mary awoke.
The town was slowly returning to some semblance of normality following the end of the carnival, and the main street was in the process of being cleared of all the hanging bunting and other paraphernalia connected with the festivities. Having checked his stock and cleared the broken furniture and debris from the saloon after the uproarious brawl, Ezra Standish now made his way to the clinic.
Quietly opening the door, the gambler tentatively poked his head around the doorframe, smiling as he noticed Nathan dozing in the rocking chair. An open book lay across his stomach, and his outstretched legs were propped on the end of the bed occupied by the sleeping Chris Larabee. Creeping across to the small stove, the gambler prepared fresh coffee to brew, and then sat down at the table to wait for the healer to rouse.
Mary Travis was no longer in the clinic; when she had woken earlier, she had assured Nathan that she was recovered from her ordeal of the previous evening. The woman had been extremely concerned by the physical condition of both injured men, her emotions continually warring between the still ailing, but slowly recovering gunslinger and the almost lifeless form of the sorely wounded tracker. She had eventually left the clinic, promising the healer that she would return later to sit with Vin.
Restlessly getting to his feet again, Ezra walked softly over to the partitioned corner, and then sat on the chair close to the unconscious tracker's bed. Vin's face looked deathly white, except for the now fading bruises around his left eye. With the exception of his left arm and shoulder, his entire upper body was wrapped in bandages, the right arm strapped firmly to his chest to support the broken shoulder. Ezra and the remaining peacekeepers had been told of the tracker's condition earlier, when Nathan had taken a break for a midday meal, and they had all agreed to take turns in sitting with Vin in an attempt to rouse him from his unconscious state. The gambler had immediately volunteered to be the first to try and get through to the Texan. In deference to the two sleeping men in the main part of the clinic, Ezra merely took hold of the tracker's left hand, absently stroking the cool fingers as he relaxed in the seat.
Nathan jerked awake with a start, blinking rapidly as he carefully lowered his legs from the bed. Leaning forward he peered at the motionless form of Chris, pleased to see that the man didn't look as washed out as he had earlier and appeared to be sleeping soundly. Laying a gentle hand on the gunslinger's forehead, the healer smiled, relieved to find that the man's fever had reduced dramatically. Hearing the coffee gurgling in the pot on the stove, Nathan rose, stretching languorously before going to pour himself a cup. Blowing gently on the scalding brew, he crossed to the partitioned off corner.
At Nathan's appearance, Ezra looked up, placing the tracker's hand back on the cover. "I trust you are feeling more rested, Mr. Jackson. How is Mr. Larabee?" the gambler asked uneasily.
"The fever's broke, an' he's sleeping comfortably fer now. No doubt he'll soon be tryin' to high tail it outta here," Nathan snorted in mild annoyance. "Course, I've hidden his pant's 'n' boots, so even if he had the strength to walk, I don't think even the head-strong Chris Larabee would risk going through town jes' wrapped in a blanket!"
Ezra gave a small chuckle as the image of a buff naked, bare-footed gunslinger making his escape from the clinic flitted through his mind. "No. The man can certainly cause a stir in many unusual ways, but being openly brazen in public is not one of his more usual habits. It is certainly encouraging to hear that Chris is well on the road to recovery. I only wish you could give similar assurances about Mr. Tanner," the gambler sighed, gazing sorrowfully at Vin.
Taking another swallow of his coffee, Nathan sat down in the chair opposite Ezra and, placing his cup on the table, he started to check the tracker. The healer had earlier managed to get some water and thin broth into the unconscious man, but even with Josiah's assistance it hadn't been easy and Nathan knew that he was fighting a losing battle. It was impossible to force the required amount of sustenance into the tracker's already frail body and the healer was aware that it was only a matter of time before his friend deteriorated to the point of no return.
Sitting back after completing his ministrations, Nathan reached for his unfinished coffee, gazing expectantly at Ezra. "Are ya gonna talk to him, Ezra?"
The other man swallowed noisily. "Yes, that was my intention. I was not sure if I would be disturbing Chris, though," he drawled, gesturing distractedly to the outer room.
"No ya won't. I gave him a pretty strong sedative early this morning. I think the roof could blow away, an' Chris 'ud still sleep!" Nathan grinned.
"I see. I do believe you are getting sneakier as each day passes, Nathan!"
"I have to be, the way you bunch carry on! Look, Ezra, I need a break from here, so stay as long as ya like. Chris'll be fine 'til I get back, an' Buck an' JD'll be stoppin' by later."
Nathan passed a small jar to the gambler. "Could you rub some of this ointment onto Vin's wrists?" he asked. "It'll help soothe those chafe marks."
Ezra nodded wordlessly, and unscrewing the lid he took a tentative sniff. "Hmm. This is rather pleasant, unlike some of your other odious concoctions, Mr. Jackson. Do I need to use much?"
"Nope. Just massage it in a little at a time; it's made with arnica an' comfrey so ya don't need to worry how much goes on, nor where it goes. And it's really good fer bruises too. I thought it might help t'have summat to do while ya talked to him — and it'll give some comfort to Vin." Nathan shrugged meaningfully.
With a last look at his two friends, he went back out to the main room, collecting dirty cups on the way before dumping them in a bowl of water on the dresser. Making a final quick check on Chris, he then picked up his hat before leaving the clinic.
Ezra removed his jacket, casually throwing it on the end of the bed and, moving the jar to a more convenient place, he dipped two fingers experimentally into the thick ointment, enjoying the tactile sensation of the cream on his fingertips.
Carefully holding Vin's hand, the gambler proceeded to gently massage the raw-looking weal's caused by the rope. "Well, my friend, what a sorry state of affairs has come to pass here, because once again you are languishing in Mr. Jackson's notable clinic. I cannot recall the last time our learned healer looked so worried. The poor man has been unstinting in his ministrations, missing out on sleep, and you have not even had the courtesy to wake and thank him properly. Of course, we are all beginning to miss your cheerful company as we go about our duties, and many of the town's ladies have been enquiring after you. Why, I do believe that Mr. Wilmington is beginning to feel a certain amount of jealousy, which you would most definitely enjoy teasing him about if you were awake."
Ezra had initially felt a little self-conscious talking to the immobile tracker, but the massaging was having a therapeutic effect on him and he picked up his friend's other flaccid hand as he continued to speak.
"The town is getting back to normal now, although if you were to visit the saloon to partake in a cold beer with your friends, then we would all have to sit on the floor as virtually every chair and table was broken in the fight. I regret that it was Mr. Wilmington who started that unfortunate incident, but that's our secret, you hear, as I would not like any of us to be on the receiving end of Mr. Larabee's temper if he ever finds out. Still, that's not your problem, my friend. Vin, can you hear anything I'm saying? Good Lord, why won't you wake up?"
Ezra wiped a sleeve across his eyes and, taking a deep breath to compose himself, he studied the tracker closely. Noticing the angry red marks around the younger man's throat and neck, he adjusted the pillows, before gently tilting Vin's head back a little. Shifting closer he got more of the ointment on his fingers and began slowly massaging the tracker's neck, keeping his gaze firmly locked on the man's face. At this close proximity, Ezra could see just how gaunt and fragile his friend looked, noticing the dark circles around his eyes and the almost imperceptible rise and fall of the other's chest as he clung to life.
Ezra worked in silence for several minutes. He wasn't really sure that he was doing the right thing for his friend, especially after their conversation and the promise he'd made to Vin the previous afternoon, but the gambler's guilt was somewhat assuaged by the knowledge that the current situation was drastically different. Or was it? With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ezra sat back, wiping his hands absently on a towel. Would Vin want to be helped, or was this a kinder way of ending the man's predicament of his continued affliction? No! Ezra knew this wasn't how Vin had wanted his life to end. If the blind tracker did recover his senses now, then nothing would change from the gambler's point of view; the pledge he'd made to Vin would still stand and nothing would stop him from fulfilling his promise to his friend.
With a heartfelt sigh, Ezra started using the cream again, gently massaging the tracker's bruised throat. "I don't know if you can hear me, Vin, but you must be aware of how I feel. I confess that until I came to this town, I had never had a true friendship with anyone, and then I find myself intricately linked with six men, all highly individual, but working together as a solid, unifying presence to keep law-and-order. It is not often that someone trusts me and accepts me for what I am, seeing behind the façade that I have carefully cultivated over the years. But Vin, you saw through me as if I was made of glass! How can I ever have that type of companionship again?"
The gambler shifted closer to the other, staring at the tracker's still features as if truly seeing the man for the first time. He wasn't quite sure when his relationship with Vin had changed from platonic into a deeper, more caring attachment, but the feelings of comradeship and belonging had crept up on him surprising him with their intensity.
With a rueful smile, he wondered what his mother would think at such an emotional impropriety. Not that he cared one way or the other. Maude had never understood him, even when he was a child, and she would be appalled to witness his present ministrations for the injured Texan.
Dipping his fingers into the pot of ointment, the Southerner dismissed the thought and continued talking. "Vin, it is strange that of us all, you possess only a modicum of formal education, and yet your ways and actions show you to be the wisest and most learned person I have ever met. Your inner soul is fine and beautiful, my friend, and I am not ready to lose your friendship just yet. This is so unfair. Vin, you have to come back! I need you!" A single tear trickled down Ezra's cheek and he bowed his head, his chore forgotten as he struggled to control his emotions.
Chris Larabee could hear someone talking as if from a great distance, the quiet sound nudging at the edge of his consciousness. With a huge effort, he dragged himself awake, frowning as he concentrated on the hushed voice. Vin? No! With a start he realised it was Ezra, and it was clear that he was talking to the unconscious Vin Tanner. Moving his head minutely, Chris could see that the main clinic was empty and, peering at a crack in the drawn curtains, he judged that it was afternoon. He didn't have the strength to move, and a feeling of lassitude was keeping him cocooned in twilight sleep as the healer's draught continued its work. When the gambler began speaking again, Chris sleepily focussed his attention on the words, giving an astonished gasp, when he heard the torment and abject misery in the other's speech.
Chris knew that Vin and Ezra shared a close friendship, but had always thought the gambler egocentric, assuming the pairs relationship emanated mainly from the almost socially naïve tracker. The two men could not be more diametrically dissimilar in personalities, but it appeared that they had formed a unique bond, a trust and companionship that Chris could hardly believe of the selfish gambler. The man was a loner, with a decidedly shady past and did not appear to form attachments of any kind. The Southerner's obsession with money and get-rich-quick schemes, were more often than not detrimental to the people around him.
Listening now to Ezra's heart-wrenching pleas' to the unconscious tracker, Chris found it difficult to reconcile the words with his own perception of the man. The gunslinger had never heard the gambler talk so passionately, and Chris suddenly wondered if he'd badly misjudged him. Particularly since Vin had been attacked and blinded.
Thinking back to the conversations he'd had with Josiah in the last few days, Chris began to feel a little guilty about his aggressive attitude towards the gambler. Maybe the ex-preacher had been right after all. The gunslinger ruefully admitted that he'd been wrapped up in what he saw as his own exclusive sorrow in the days following the first attack on Vin. As a result, he'd pushed away all the people who cared for the tracker, not really giving them a chance to aid their stricken friend. Chris' aggressive attitude had mainly affected Ezra, for the man had borne the brunt of the gunslinger's wrath, although all of his friends had felt the black-dressed man's hostility. The gunslinger had built an impenetrable wall around himself and, whilst that barrier protected him from the anguish of losing his closest friend, it had also made it impossible for any of the other men to reach out to him.
It was difficult for the gunslinger to admit that he was wrong — self-abasement and Chris Larabee were uneasy partners — but Chris swore he would try to find a way to help Ezra come to terms with his grief. With all of this now acknowledged, the fair-haired peacekeeper was acutely aware that Ezra must never know that he'd witnessed the man's emotional breakdown at the tracker's bedside.
It wasn't going to be easy mending the rifts that existed at present but, if he could resolve the current problems, then it might give Chris a more open mind when dealing with Ezra in the future. Closing his eyes lethargically as sleep beckoned once more, he smiled contentedly. He was sure that this was something that Vin Tanner would want him to do, and it would be his final undertaking for his dying friend.
Nathan hastily pushed his book aside as he heard Chris mumble several indistinct words. It was starting to get dark outside and the injured gunslinger had slept for more than twelve hours. Nathan was pleased that his patient had rested, but was thankful his friend was finally waking, knowing that the man needed to drink to replace the fluids he'd lost. Pouring water into a cup on the bedside table, the healer leaned forward, placing a cool hand on Chris' forehead.
"Hmm. What...? Mmm...." Chris' head moved sluggishly, eyelids fluttering as he tried to organise his drug-muddled thoughts.
"Easy there, Chris. Don't rush it, y'hear? Y'can sit up an' have a drink when you're ready. Shh, jes' keep still while I see to this." Nathan sponged the older man's face and neck, seeing the bewildered look on the other's features as he struggled to come round.
"Nathan?" Chris' voice was husky and barely audible, as he tried to push himself upright with his one free arm. Dropping the cloth into a basin and letting out a soft snort of disapproval, Nathan went to get two more pillows from the other bed. Crouching down close to Chris' head, the healer slipped a strong arm around his friend's shoulders and lifted him up, supporting the man as he slotted the extra pillows into place. Leaning the gunslinger against them, Nathan held the cup as his patient gulped down the water.
Chris sighed as he finished drinking, briefly closing his eyes. Opening them once more, he gazed at the healer. "How's Vin?"
Nathan returned his friend's steady look, pursing his lips a little. "No improvement. Ezra helped me get some more water an' broth in him, but.... waal, he really needs to wake up. I jes' wish I could do more."
Chris nodded slowly. "Have you seen Mary? I need to talk to her."
"Yeah. She should be here soon. I saw her earlier, and she said she'd come an' talk to Vin after she'd got Billy ready fer bed. She can fill ya in on the details about that Russian killer, too."
Nathan handed the refilled cup back to Chris. "Have some more, an' then I'll get ya summat to eat."
While Nathan busied himself at his small stove, Chris silently sipped the water, casting the occasional lingering look at the partitioned corner. He knew that he wasn't ready to go in and see his unconscious friend yet, and his stomach churned in fear just thinking about the tracker's dire situation. With a heavy sigh, he cursed his physical and mental weakness, his emotions in turmoil as he attempted to understand how he felt.
Despite his bleak assessment of Vin's condition, it was clear that Nathan believed the man could still recover his senses, particularly if given enough stimulation from his friends. However, Chris wasn't convinced and it was this paradox that now confused the gunslinger as he sat quietly thinking about the injured Texan.
"Chris?"
At Nathan's quiet question, the injured man started, slopping a little of the water as he realised he'd dozed off for a few minutes. Taking the cup with a wry grin, the healer hastily dabbed at the damp patch. "Hope ya ain't gonna do that with this broth, Chris. Not after I took time to warm it through!"
Chris' stomach gave a queasy gurgle as he smelt the savoury soup, and he swallowed convulsively. "I'm sorry, Nathan. I ain't hungry! It's making me feel sick just with the smell."
"Chris, you've gotta try. How the hell d'ya think you'll recover yer strength unless ya eat? Ya ain't doin' any favours to either yerself or Vin." Nathan stirred the spoon in the bowl of broth that he held, hoping his friend would see reason.
"Vin's right — you do fuss summat awful, Nate! I'll have some coffee or mebbe summat stronger?" Chris gave his friend a small hopeful grin.
"Humph! Ya know what happened t'the boy when he mixed morphine an' whiskey. What makes ya think yer immune? No, Chris, its jes' gonna be herbal tea and food fer ya, at present. An' I ain't arguing, y'hear?" Nathan was beginning to get annoyed, but was confident that for today and possibly tomorrow, his un-cooperative patient simply lacked the strength to make an early escape from the clinic.
"Huh! Well then, I'll go without," Chris growled sourly, as he relaxed back in the bed.
The older man knew that he was being a complete pain in the butt and unfairly venting his frustration on the healer, but he was past caring at the moment.
"Mebbe you'd like summat else then, huh?"
Nathan was not about to give in that easily, although he was prepared to offer an alternative. The healer looked up expectantly as the clinic door slowly opened, and Mary Travis entered carrying a book and something else wrapped in a cloth.
"I hope I'm not too early, Nathan. Chris, I'm so glad to see you're awake and looking a little better." The woman's pleasure was apparent in the wide smile she bestowed upon the two peacekeepers.
Nathan grinned broadly at the woman, as he gave his friend a sidelong glance. "Yer timing's jes' perfect, Mary. I need to go somewhere, an' Chris needs some help to eat this broth. D'ya think ya could see to it fer him, please?"
"Of course, Nathan, it's no bother at all," the woman responded eagerly. "Chris, I've brought you some egg custard. Billy had it for his pudding tonight, and he thought you would enjoy some too. It's still warm, so perhaps you could manage some after the soup."
Placing her things on the side table, Mary sat beside the gunslinger's bed. Picking up the bowl of broth, she didn't notice the cold, steely glare that Chris shot at Nathan's back.
"I won't be too long. Buck an' JD'll be here in a while, but I need to speak to Josiah." Nathan rammed his hat on, and starting to whistle cheerfully to himself as he opened the door, he exited, leaving the couple alone.
"I can do it, Mary." Chris held his hand out for the bowl. He knew when to concede defeat, and he wasn't about to cause a scene in front of Mary.
Seeing the man grimace as he began eating, she sat back, picking up the book she had brought along. Idly turning a few pages, she smiled as she got to a specific section of text.
"What?" Chris had managed several spoonfuls of the soup, and he had to admit that his stomach had begun to feel more settled. He'd seen the woman's soft expression as she studied the book and curiosity got the better of him.
"Oh... well... it's nothing really. I was just reading this particular piece, and I suddenly remembered that it's one of Vin's favourites." She waved the book nonchalantly.
Chris seemed to be discovering many new things about his friend, and the idea of Vin reading a book, or even having a favoured story, was something that had never occurred to him. "What's the book, Mary?" he asked at length.
"Nursery rhymes. This one belongs to Billy. Vin likes 'Sing a Song of Sixpence', and I was going to read that one to him first this evening. Of course there are others that he quite enjoys, so I'll see how many I can get through." Mary put the book down on the table, as she spoke.
"How d'ya know he likes 'em?" Chris was fascinated by this personal insight into Vin Tanner, but couldn't work out how the woman knew his friend's taste in literature.
Mary looked flustered for a second, lowering her eyes as she fiddled with a button on her dress. "Well, erm, I think... Oh yes, now I remember. Vin told me once when he... heard me reading to Billy. It was... some time ago, you understand."
The woman could tell that her hastily mumbled reply didn't fool Chris one bit, but she wasn't about to break a promise to the tracker. No-one would find out from her that it was only recently that the former bounty hunter had learned to read and write, and the leather bound volume of nursery rhymes had been one of the books Mary had used to teach the man.
"Uh-huh," the gunslinger grunted noncommittally. "When I was a kid, younger than Billy, I liked 'There was an old Woman who lived in a Shoe'. I used to drive my Mama mad, 'cos I would read it, an' then fill her Sunday best boots with tiny paper cut-out kids. I just had t'get more kids stuffed inter that boot than there was in the rhyme."
Chris smiled at the childhood memory. He didn't think about his mother very often but, in the light of recent tragic events, it felt good to dwell on pleasant thoughts for a while.
Mary laughed, delighted that she had somehow managed to lift the gunslinger's spirits. The woman knew of the anguish the man must be enduring, and her own problems with Chris were pushed firmly to the back of her mind, as she tried to help Vin recover from his coma.
"Let me take that, Chris. Can you manage some of this?" Mary uncovered the bowl of yellow custard, and placing a clean spoon in the thick pudding she passed it to Chris, smiling again as he began eating.
"Hmm. This is fine, thanks Mary." Chris hadn't thought he was hungry at all, but he was able to eat half of the custard, and his stomach felt more settled than it had been.
Passing the bowl back, he relaxed against the pillows, gazing at the woman thoughtfully for a while. "Can you tell me who that Russian fella was, Mary?"
Mary tucked a stray hair behind her ear, as she replied. "Yes. Madame Kristina, Josiah and I had a long conversation this afternoon after Gregor's funeral and it was all explained in Anya's diary, which Madame read this morning. He was Mikhael Sedykh, Anya's betrothed, and he was one of the dancers who had purportedly died in the studio fire in New York."
Chris frowned in puzzlement, having already been told a little about the fire, but he listened quietly as Mary continued to explain. Sedykh had deliberately started the studio fire to kill Olga Petrov, Anya's cousin and rival prima ballerina, whilst using an unknown drunk to fake his own death. The crazed Russian had been jealously possessive of Anya and had wanted them to return to Europe. After following the dance troupe to Ridge City and telling the girl of his murderous act, the beautiful dancer had threatened to go to the authorities with the incriminating evidence she had recorded. This had probably made the already unbalanced Sedykh go into another murderous rage and, after secretly contacting Anya when they had reached Four Corners, he had effectively silenced the one person who could bring him to justice.
The killer's body had been examined just prior to his unceremonious burial in Boot Hill, and Nathan had noted the stage make-up covering the burn scars on the dead man's face. The healer had also removed Anya's betrothal ring from Sedykh's small finger and, after discussions with Mary and Josiah, they realised that this was the evidence that Vin Tanner had been looking for at the hotel. At Madame Kristina's request, the dainty diamond ring had been buried with Gregor Bubka, as he was laid to rest next to Anya Koklova.
Chris pursed his lips in confusion as he listened to the tale. "So d'ya think Bubka was involved?" he finally asked the woman.
"It doesn't look as if he knew anything, Chris. We think that Anya must have got scared after confronting Sedykh. After all, she knew how unstable he was, and she must have given the diary to Gregor for safekeeping. It's unlikely that he would read a private diary left in his care even after Anya had been killed, and maybe he didn't think it was important. Perhaps Sedykh looked for the diary in Anya's things, but having failed to find it he couldn't risk leaving town until it was in his possession."
The woman paused, glancing across to the screened area before continuing. "Vin was... unlucky. He got in the way when Anya was killed, and then he inadvertently walked into a trap in Gregor's room, although maybe Sedykh always planned to silence the only witness to the murder. We may never know the full story, but Josiah believes that's what happened. The only person left to confirm anything is Vin, but he may not have understood much if the two Russians spoke in their own language." Mary sighed as she finished speaking.
"I was wrong about Bubka, Mary. I knew there was summat goin' on, but couldn't figure it out. If only Anya had come to me when she first arrived. And then this whole mess could've bin avoided." Chris couldn't hide his regret, and he closed his eyes as he thought of the tragic sequence of events.
"There was nothing you could have done, Chris. You simply didn't have all the facts. I've been blaming myself too; but Josiah's right. He likened it to a dandelion blowing around in the wind. You know the seeds will dissipate, but you just can't predict where they will fall. We can't have known what would happen, not you, me or anyone else — and we have to come to terms with that."
Chris wasn't entirely convinced by the woman's words, but he still wanted to know more details of what actually transpired the previous evening. "Mary, what made you come to the back of the hotel? You should'a stayed where it was safe, y'know."
"I heard the gunfire and Gregor was already dead. I had intended to go and get help, but something drew me down the side alley. I don't know, call it woman's intuition or whatever you will, but I just knew that you and Vin were in danger." Mary looked down at her feet, biting her lip fearfully.
"When I saw Vin lying there and Sedykh about to shoot him... I.... I didn't even think. I just fired. I... I've never... killed a man before, Chris." At this last statement, Mary gave a shuddering sob as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Leaning across to pull the distraught Mary onto the bed next to him, Chris held the weeping woman close, stroking her hair as the pent-up grief flooded out. Eventually she composed herself, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, and blowing her nose noisily. Releasing the woman from his embrace, Chris smiled gently, wincing silently at the renewed throbbing in his shoulder as he settled back against his pillows.
"Better?"
Mary nodded mutely to the other's question, not trusting herself to speak, as she wiped her reddened eyes.
Chris could see that Mary was still upset, and the knowledge that she'd taken another life — even that of a killer — would haunt her for a long time. "Mary, you did what had to be done. Your actions saved Vin's life, and that's something I'll never forget."
The woman smiled gamely and, catching hold of the gunslinger's calloused hand, she squeezed it in silent gratitude. It was as if a heavy veil had been lifted from her, and she felt happier then she had for many day's. The only thing that still caused her sorrow was the serious plight of Vin Tanner. She wasn't sure how to go about it, but she made a solemn pledge that she would do everything in her power to help her friends bring the tracker back.
"I think I'll read to Vin now. Chris, you look a little tired, and Nathan will be cross with me if he thinks that I've not let you rest. Is there anything else I can do for you before I start?" Mary picked the book up, getting to her feet as she spoke.
"No. I'm fine, Mary. I may just listen while you read. It's been some time since I heard nursery rhymes." Chris closed his eyes as he settled himself into a more comfortable position.
With a faint smile, Mary tapped the book with her finger, before disappearing behind the screened off corner.
Chris woke with a start, looking around the dimly lit clinic as he tried to decide what had roused him. A raucous burst of laughter came from the partitioned corner, and the gunslinger smiled as he recognised the loud voice. Buck! He could hear Nathan and JD too and, it was apparent that the three peacekeepers sat at the tracker's bedside, as they laughed and talked amongst themselves. Pulling the blanket closer around him as he shivered a little, Chris attempted to adjust his pillows into a lower position, not wanting to alert the over fussy healer to his wakeful state. He didn't feel like joining in with his friends' conversation, but was happy to simply lie there and listen to them as they talked to the unconscious Vin Tanner.
"Now, I thought you said that that last one was funny, kid? The only thing that made me laugh was the puzzled look on Nathan's face as he tried to work out what ya meant."
Buck was irrepressible when he had a mind to tease JD, and Chris could easily imagine the wide grin fixed on his oldest friend's face as he playfully poked fun at the youngest peacekeeper.
"I told that one to Casey, an' she nearly fell over laughing! You're losing your sense of humour, Buck, an' that ain't my fault," JD retorted scornfully.
"But it weren't funny, JD. Mind you, I had to smile when Buck slapped his leg in disgust, 'cos I know he's got an awful sore bruise in that same spot, courtesy of that big fella from the Lazy K." Nathan chuckled wickedly.
"Why don't you tell everyone all about my hurts, Nathan? Better still, why not put an advert in Mary's newspaper? That way you'll be sure not to miss anyone out!" Buck snorted indignantly, but his tone was still cheerful.
"Alright, this is a good 'un. You ready? Vin, you'll like this one. Oh no, hold on a minute, I gotta get the voice right."
Chris heard JD fist clear his throat, and then he started telling the joke in a bad Texas drawl.
"The sheriff walks into the saloon, and he says 'Howdy boys. Ah'm a'lookin' fer Brown Paper Jake. Have you fellas seen 'im?' The men said 'Nope, we ain't seen 'im Sheriff'." JD paused briefly in his narrative. "'Well if ya do, tell 'im to come to th' jailhouse, 'cos he's under 'rrest'. The sheriff turns to leave the saloon and a man calls out to the sheriff. 'How will we know this Brown Paper Jake when we see him?' the man asks. The Sheriff replies, 'He wears a brown paper hat, a brown paper shirt, brown paper pants and brown paper boots'. 'What's this Brown Paper Jake wanted fer, sheriff?'" JD fell silent as he paused dramatically for effect.
"Rustling!"
Chris smiled broadly as Buck and Nathan howled with laughter and, as JD joined in with his friends' increasing hilarity, even the gunslinger began to chuckle. However, Chris' laughter was short lived as a coughing fit caught him totally unawares, making him reach for a cup of water on the side table.
The three peacekeepers immediately fell silent and, casting a worried glance at Buck, Nathan hurried out to the main room. Pausing to increase the lamplight, Nathan sat down beside his patient, taking the cup from Chris as his friend leaned to the side to try and catch his breath. Slipping his arm around the spluttering man's back and pulling him closer, the healer held the cup to Chris' lips.
"Jes' try an' breathe more shallow, Chris. Can ya manage some water, d'ya think?" Nathan could feel the heat radiating from his friend's body, and realised that the man's temperature was climbing once again.
Chris started to sip the cool water, but it triggered another coughing fit, the dry hacking spasms leaving him sweaty and trembling as he leaned heavily against Nathan.
"Buck, get round the other side and support him. Try an' get him to sip some water, while I mix up summat fer that cough," Nathan said worriedly.
Passing the cup to Buck, the healer crossed to his medicine dresser. "JD, could ya get my stethoscope? It's on the table by Vin," he instructed the youngest peacekeeper.
The clinic was quiet as the former slave started to make the linctus, frowning in silent concentration as he combined various drugs with syrup and water.
Chris had managed to stop coughing, but he felt hot and oppressively stifled against Buck's body and tried to push himself away from his friend's firm grip.
"Whoa, easy there, stud. You just relax for a while, until Nathan gets ya fixed up. This ain't the first time I've had you in my arms when you've been sick, remember? Mind you, I'd rather it was that pretty Miss Katy, who teaches at the school, 'cos I bet she smells nicer then you do!" Buck winked at the worried-looking JD, a suggestive grin on his face.
"Buck, you... talk cr... crap!" the gunslinger croaked, but began coughing again, gasping as he struggled to breathe.
"Buck, hold him more upright. Chris, don't talk, jes' try t'hold still while I have a listen," Nathan instructed as he returned to his seat with a cup.
Placing his stethoscope on Chris' bare back, he pursed his lips as he listened intently to the man's laboured and ragged breathing.
Reassured by what he heard, Nathan hung his instrument around his neck, offering the cup to Chris' lips. "Jes' take a few slow sips to begin with, Chris. No... ya'll start coughing ag'in if ya gulp it. That's more like it — yer doin' fine. Take it real easy now. This'll help yer cough, an' ya'll start t'feel better in a whiles. Good. Let's get ya settled fer the night, huh?"
The healer passed the empty cup to JD and, adjusting the pillows lower, he indicated to Buck to lay the older man down.
JD looked in concern at Chris' flushed, sweaty features, unsure what to do next as he watched Nathan work. Buck saw the uncertain expression on the young man's face, and he smiled sympathetically. "Hey there, kid. It's fairly late, why don't you go get some bunk time? I'll stay an' give Nathan any help he needs, an' we can come back tomorrow an' see Vin."
"Yeah, think I will Buck. I'll see you both in the morning then, huh?" JD wrenched his gaze away from the drowsy gunslinger and, pulling at his hat briefly, he quietly left the clinic.
"M'hot... Nathan." Chris was lethargically pushing the blanket away with his one free hand and legs, his hazel eyes unfocussed as the powerful drug began to take effect.
Picking up a damp cloth Nathan studied his friend intently as he wiped his patient's face and neck. "I'm working on that, Chris. Jes' rest easy. That's it, you have a sleep now."
The healer's soothing tone reinforced the work of the strong sedative, and Chris finally relaxed into deep slumber. Leaving the cloth on the gunslinger's forehead, Nathan listened once again with his stethoscope, stealing a glance at Buck, who appeared to be lost in his own thoughts.
Buck stared at the gunslinger, his mind drifting back many years as he recalled the winter he and Sarah had nursed Chris through a bad bout of influenza. It had been the first year the couple had married, and Buck had spent the summer months working with Chris to get the Larabee farm up and running. Winter had arrived early that year and, although he hadn't intended to, Buck had stayed with his two friends, an action that transpired to be life saving for Chris. The man had succumbed to the epidemic that had killed many folks in the area and the pregnant Sarah would not have been able to cope on her own as the snowdrifts came down off the mountains, effectively isolating the farm. The pair spent nearly a month tending to the bedridden Chris Larabee, and the bulk of the sick man's care had fallen to Buck. Their efforts had been rewarded as eventually the man recovered his health, but the legacy of that long illness was that Chris was susceptible to chest complaints, and it was this that now worried Buck.
Shaking his head a little to dispel the memory, Buck looked at Nathan. "How is he, Nathan?"
"Strong-willed, pig-headed, dogged, mulish, stubborn, obdurate, intractable! I can't think of any more words that fit, 'til I get a chance to speak to Ezra!" Nathan gave a wry grin, as he removed the cloth from Chris' forehead.
"Yeah, that sounds like the Chris Larabee I know. How's he doing really, Nathan? You know he gets a mite chesty, don't you?"
Nathan nodded as he put a hand on the sleeping man's forehead. "Yeah, I know. His temperatures up again, which caused the coughing fit, but his lungs are clear, an' he jes' needs t'rest. He'll sleep until late morning now, and then probably start pestering the life outta me to get out of here. The stubborn cuss jes' don't know when t'give in!"
Buck laughed. "You ain't gonna change him. When he goes on the warpath, the only sensible thing t'do is head for cover. A little thing like a bullet, ain't gonna stop Chris Larabee from doing what he pleases, but you don't need me to tell you that. Nathan, you look like you need to rest too. We can help, you know. It can't have been easy looking after this pair. Why don't you get some sleep? I'll sit with Chris tonight, an' look out fer Vin too."
Nathan rubbed his chin, as he thought about his friend's offer. The powerful drugs he'd just given Chris would enforce at least twelve hours sleep on the gunslinger, and the condition of the tracker hadn't changed much in the past twenty-four hours to warrant constant nursing. Nathan was tired, both physically and emotionally, and the idea of six hours solid sleep made him suddenly crave for his comfortable bed in the quiet back room.
"You've talked me round, Buck. Chris'll need to be sponged down quite frequently during the night, but he shouldn't wake. Vin... Waal, there ain't much to be done fer him at present, although I need yer help right now to turn him. It ain't good fer him t'stay in the same position fer too long."
Nathan pulled the blanket closer around Chris' still form as he spoke, and then turned the lamp down to a dim glow before following Buck as the ladies man crossed to the corner area.
Moving the chairs away from the bed, Buck folded the cover down to the base of the mattress, and gazed at the motionless form of the naked tracker, stunned by how thin and frail his friend looked.
Nathan saw the incredulous look on Buck's face as he came to stand next to his tall friend.
"Yeah, I know what you're thinking. He's lost quite a bit of weight, not that he had any to spare to begin with. I've bin getting a small amount of broth inside him, but it jes' ain't enough. C'mon, let's roll him onto his left side fer now, an' then I can prop him with pillows. Take his legs, Buck."
The two men carefully rolled the limp man over, Nathan deftly manoeuvring Vin's right leg, bending the knee at an angle so he was fully supported and unable to roll forward. Laying several pillows along the tracker's back, the healer was finally satisfied with his patient's position, and he pulled the quilt back into place.
"Do you honestly believe he'll wake up, Nathan?" Buck pulled a chair closer again, sitting down as Nathan started to check the unconscious man.
Peeling back Vin's right eyelid, Nathan grunted as he observed the tracker's spontaneous reaction to the lamplight. Straightening up again, the dark-skinned peacekeeper nodded. "Waal, I'm hopeful. Y'see, his eyes are still reacting to light, which is why I always thought his vision would return. An' this ain't no normal unconscious state either. I've bin reading about this kinda thing in a medical journal, and patients with similar injuries have woken up after hearing their kin an' loved ones talkin' to 'em. It could jes' be a matter of time. Course, convincing Chris of that ain't easy."
Nathan absently picked up Vin's hand, examining the chafe marks on his wrist. Ezra's earlier efforts with the ointment had helped ease the angry-looking sores caused by the rope, and the healer noted that the marks around the tracker's neck and throat were also much improved.
"I don't suppose he's been in here and talked to him, has he?" Buck's question was purely rhetorical. He knew the answer before the other replied.
"Nope. I jes' don't understand why he can't bring himself to come an' see Vin. He didn't have any problem when the boy was out for that long stretch four days ago. If he didn't feel strong enough to walk in here on his own, then me an' Josiah would'a helped him. So he ain't even got that as an excuse. I'm frightened t'push him, 'cos I know that stubborn, dumb-assed gunfighter will jes' dig his heels in harder!" Nathan puffed his cheeks in exasperation.
"Yeah, well I ain't surprised. Y'see, he's thinking that Vin's beyond help already, and he won't believe that it might be him that could bring him back. If he tries, an' fails... waal, that'd finish Chris completely. He'd blame hisself, so it's safer for him to do nothing and just accept what happens." Buck shook his head sadly.
"Surely he realises that he could be the only one of us that could bring him round? Doesn't Vin deserve that chance?" Nathan bristled indignantly.
"He does, and Chris would be the first to agree with that last part. Trouble is, Chris doesn't think he could be that special to someone again — an' it scares him t'hell, Nathan."
"Mebbe you could persuade him, after all you've bin friends fer a long time and ya know how he thinks. I realise that Vin has a unique place in Chris' affections, but I must admit, I've never fully understood their attachment."
"He won't listen to me. There's only one person who can get through to Chris, and we're looking at him right now." Buck gestured to the man in the bed.
With a shrug, the ladies' man continued with his explanation. "The difference between Vin and me probably lies in the loss of Chris' family. Y'see Nathan, I was with him when Sarah and Adam died, and I can't even begin to tell you how that man was torn apart. In the days following, I really feared for Chris' life. To the point that I took all his weapons away from him. Oh yeah, and we fought. Both of us were grieving, 'cos I loved 'em too, though not in the same way obviously. Chris changed in that time. He became hard and cold, a drunken killer going nowhere and the only thing that kept him from goin' crazy was the thought of revenge. I take him back to those days an' they ain't happy memories for him. When he sees me, he feels that he failed the ones he loved." Buck paused, leaning forward to smooth the rumpled sheet under the unconscious man.
Gazing at the tracker, the ladies' man carried on talking. "As you know, Nathan, Chris arrived in town, and met Vin. Things began to change for that tortured man; he found a new purpose in life, a reason to make a difference to what happened around him. It's like Vin re-ignited something that I'd thought long dead in Chris, and the man began to care again. I can't explain what that boy did, mebbe it's 'cos he reminds Chris of hisself at a younger age, an' that returns him to a time before all his grief began I guess. To him, it's kinda like Vin's... untainted, pure and untouched by the evil that befell Sarah and Adam, and he's someone to be looked out for, or protected mebbe. The two men are very different of course, opposites in some ways, but Vin knows how to make things right for Chris. He ain't scared of him either. He'll speak his mind, which is a large part of what they share. It's a strange twist of fate, but Vin's the one person who can make Chris stop and think, an' that's the real tragedy outta all o' this. Hell, Nathan, I dunno if I'm making much sense, but that's how I see it." Buck sat back as he finished speaking.
Nathan had never heard such a frank and emotional outpouring from Buck. He'd always thought the man could be somewhat superficial, but this was a side to his friend that he hadn't seen before. He began to view the other in a completely new light, as he thought over what he'd said.
"Hmm. I think I understand, Buck. Of course, that don't get us any further forward, but mebbe Chris'll listen to Josiah. He respects what Josiah's got t'say, so perhaps we should try that approach. Hell, I jes' don't know what else t'do. I'm running outta ideas, an' Vin's fast running outta time!"
Nathan was too tired to hide his mounting frustration, and Buck nodded solemnly at the healer's dismayed outburst.
"Waal, Nathan, if we were talking about someone other than Vin, mebbe he would listen to Josiah. You see, Chris doesn't set much store to God's kind and benevolent ways, so if Josiah started preaching at him, then I can see the man scuttling outta here quicker then a fox after a jack rabbit!"
Nathan adjusted the cover once again over the tracker and, with a thoughtful nod to the ladies' man, he returned to Chris' bedside to check the gunslinger before he retired for the night. Buck had followed behind the healer and now sat in the rocking chair, watching quietly as his friend finished his examination.
"If anything happens in the night with either of 'em Buck, then jes'... "
Nathan didn't get a chance to finish, as Buck hastily interrupted. "I know, I know. Quit worrying, Nathan! I'll be banging on yer door fit to rouse the Devil hisself if I think there's a problem. Now go an' get some sleep. Go on — just get outta here!" Buck grinned at his friend, as he shooed the other away.
Leaning back comfortably in the chair, Buck allowed his thoughts to drift back to the many good times he'd shared with the Larabee family. The memories were happy ones, and he smiled to himself as he kept his lonely vigil over his two injured friends.
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