DISCLAIMER: The characters of The Magnificent Seven are owned by MGM, CBS and Trilogy. I am not profiting by their use in any way.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please, this is my first story.
Sheng-Li set Ezra's head down and then tilted his patient forward, exposing the shackles. Those assembled looked expectantly at Xiaoting.
First, Xiaoting fingered the derringer rigging still attached to Ezra's arm. He unbuckled the straps and removed it, handing it to Running Deer. The Indian puzzled over the thing. What purpose did this serve?
Next, the young man examined the iron cuffs. They had rubbed mercilessly on Ezra's wrists; his skin was raw and bleeding. Xiaoting observed the keyhole and asked Running Deer for the use of a needle.
It did not take long for the first cuff to snap open. The group observing murmured their approval. Xiaoting took the shackle off, unwound the chain and Ezra's numb body fell forward. They arranged him more comfortably on his back, massaging the blood into his arms as Ezra moaned.
Running Deer saw the injuries to the man's chest and pitied him. He had heard the Chinese were capable of helping people to die without agony and he hoped it was true. This was a good man. He deserved an honorable death.
Sheng-Li prepared Ezra for the trip back to their cabin. He wrapped the wounds and felt for broken bones. When the second shackle snapped open he paused to praise Xiaoting's cleverness.
Red Bear brought two horses. He climbed onto the bigger horse and reached out for Ezra. Midday Sun had papoosed the white man snugly in soft blankets and he was much easier to carry now. Two others lifted him and Bear draped his body across his lap and held Ezra's head gently against his chest. The Chinese men rode together on the second horse and talked quietly of the many things they had traded with the Indians that day.
The five lawmen followed the Indian's route, trampling the ground further, creating a trail even the most untrained eye could follow.
A small crowd watched them curiously as they rode into the Indian camp. The gunslingers dismounted and approached an older man who stood expectantly with young braves surrounding him.
JD listened as the others introduced themselves and exchanged patient pleasantries. He was hot, his back ached. He could not focus on what they were saying. Instead he scanned the camp for any sign of Ezra or the Indian woman Ezra had risked his life for.
Finally Chris explained that they were searching for Ezra Standish.
JD heard the older Indian repeating the name carefully, with respect: "Ezra Standish". Josiah told the story of the escaped convicts. He explained that they had arrived at the convicts' camp after the Indians.
This was taking forever! JD squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pushing back his pain. He tried to listen to the Indian who was the leader but his own body's anguish filled his ears. When his vision cleared his eyes dropped to the shackles and derringer rigging that lay near the man's feet.
"There!" JD shouted unexpectedly, startling his friends. He lunged to pick up the rigging. Lean Wolf's knife flashed like a mirror in the autumn sun and he leapt with precision in front of his father. He had a fistful of JD's black hair in one hand and pressed the knife to his throat with the other. JD staggered and choked, his hands grasped the strong arm across his chest. Lean Wolf held him still.
Buck's hands froze over his guns. He could see that the Indian was waiting for a response, testing them. He watched JD shuffle to find his footing. Dammit, JD! The kid was breathing hard and his skin was pasty white. Tiny drops of blood that appeared at the knife's edge were carried down his neck by rivulets of sweat. Buck held his hands up, away from his weapons and took a step back.
Chris Larabee glared. Lean Wolf did not flinch.
"Please, my friend." Josiah spoke as calmly as possible, his hands held open at his sides. "He didn't mean any harm. He's not well. One of the convicts at the canyon shot him."
"You are lying." Lean Wolf spoke their language with care. "We took all the weapons from the killers."
"Except one." Chris still held the Indian's gaze carefully. "A small gun that belonged to Ezra."
"Where is this gun?" Lean Wolf was letting up on the pressure against JD's throat. He was already convinced by the other men's behavior that the young one had not meant to harm his father.
"It's in my pocket." JD's teeth were gritted against the hold on his neck and his voice was strained. Lean Wolf released his grip on JD's hair and the kid's head fell forward. The Indian shifted to avoid cutting the skin but held the knife steady. He slowly reached into JD's pocket, pulled out the derringer and pushed the young man away.
"Ezra wears that inside his coat--in that rigging." JD indicated the rigging at Running Deer's feet. He straightened his jacket and pulled away from Buck's attempt to steady him. Lean Wolf picked up the rigging and compared the two items. Running Deer stepped forward and spoke to his son privately, in their own language:
"Lean Wolf, this is most interesting." Running Deer was pleased. "It is a wonderful gadget for Shou ting. Bring it to him. He will trade well for it!" Lean Wolf nodded once and Running Deer continued, "You must trade it for something enchanting, delicate. Something I can give to your mother and you can offer to Midday Sun."
Lean Wolf stared at his father, transfixed. How could the man have heard his thoughts? How could anyone have known how he dreamed of Midday Sun? He felt his face grow warm and looked away.
He studied the gun and rigging and agreed that it was a very complex instrument. He signaled to a friend to bring him his horse and turned to the white men.
"I will take you to Ezra Standish."
Ezra regained consciousness on the ride. He fought furiously with himself to understand what was happening. He was wrapped in blankets and held securely by a large man. The familiar jolt of the horse's gait was agony to him.
He remembered flashing images: the hideous face of the convict, and his own arms painfully pinned, cinched without feeling. The black eyed Indian woman; she had returned for him. Then he was somewhere else that smelled of smoke and leather. He was held on his side in that place and when he opened his eyes he could see only the fabric edge of someone's clothing. He remembered the tiny beading on it. So intricate: it could only have been sewn by an unhurried hand. The last thing he could remember was lying on his back, the agony of blood rushing into his limbs like a thousand piercing needles.
And now, finally, the horse stopped. Ezra's chest pumped. He heard a distant, rasping sound but didn't recognize it as the noise of his own difficult breathing. He struggled to free himself from the suffocating pain that engulfed him. He wanted to get back to the others now. JD would bring them soon. Chris? Chris will think I ran out on him.
The members of the fan wey's cabin encampment took the broken man from the horseback Indian, thanking him and bowing. They carried him into their home.
The cabin had four large rooms. They had been whitewashed and the floor's wooden planks were scrubbed clean. A drape isolated one room from the rest and Ezra was brought into it. Along the walls wide shelving held an assortment of jars containing dried herbs and colorful powders.
"Where a meridian traverses there is a place amenable to treatment." Sheng-Li spoke slowly, reciting steps to the art of healing like poetry. His friends knew this verse by heart.
The room swam into view and Ezra tried to sit up. He was on a table or a bed; someplace solid. There was a sense of quiet safety and the aroma of burning herbs but he could not stay here; he had to leave. He felt hands holding him and tried to make them understand. They won't find me here. I have to go back. Chris will think I ran out on him.
Ai-Ling was an assistant to the doctor and tried to sooth the patient. She stroked his face and hair, whispering an ancient hymn. She wished she could understand English like Xiaoting but the sounds escaped her. She listened carefully to the words that tumbled from the injured man and tried to comfort him by repeating them. "Shhhh. Yes, yes, go back kris."
She worked quickly with the others to remove the clothing and clean the man's body. The damage was appalling. He had a deep wound in his flank. His upper body was torn and bruised all over as though trampled by a herd of horses. Even the side of his face was shattered. It was there that Sheng-Li put the first needles. Ai-Ling gently but firmly held the man's head still.
"Locate points accurately and puncture skillfully." Sheng-Li placed the gold needles quickly in the man's temple and even in his ears. As the nerve endings responded she felt the patient relaxing. All at once she realized his eyes were open and filling with tears. He was staring at her, studying her face. She smiled warmly.
"Li-Pong?" He whispered hopefully. "Li-Pong?"
"Yes, yes." She soothed gently. "Lee pong."
Young Coleman checked his gun again. He only had four bullets remaining. He had not expected his father to bring all the men aboard the prison transport with them; he had not anticipated the shackles. After killing the prison guards the weapons were divided up among the men. He was left with one six-shooter; and now the Indians had the rest.
Four bullets. He should be able to kill the youngest one easily; he was already wounded. And when the other gunslingers got in his way he would use the remaining three shots.
He knelt on a hill above the Indian camp and watched them ride off. One of the Indians rode with them. Ferris Coleman was tired and hungry but that would have to wait. He had one more thing to do.
Lean Wolf observed the youngest lawman carefully. It was true, he was ill. But he rode hard and did not complain. A thin red line crossed his throat where Lean Wolf's knife had sliced yet he rode close by and showed no fear. There was trust among these men, as if they were brothers.
"What use did Ezra Standish have for such a small gun?" Lean Wolf's question was directed to JD. He was curious as to whether the young man would choose to acknowledge him. Surely he understood that Lean Wolf must defend his father?
JD turned to the Indian. Their eyes locked. He could tell Lean Wolf's question was friendly; an attempt to change the course between them. He agreed with Lean Wolf that a new direction was better.
"Ezra likes to be prepared." JD felt the burn of the wound throbbing in his arm and body. It spiked up his back and sent a piercing jolt into his head with the impact of each stride of the horse. "But that little gun packs one hell of a punch."
Lean Wolf smiled. "Your wound does not hinder you." He tried to encourage JD. In honesty, he only hoped the injured lawman would make it to the Chinese doctor before he fell off his horse.
"Was Ezra badly hurt?" JD kept his gaze on the trail ahead. He didn't understand why they had not kept Ezra at the Indian camp. He was afraid to see the truth in Lean Wolf's eyes.
Lean Wolf saw that JD showed no fear for himself but his fear for his friend blazed inside him. The Indian kept his horse even with JD's mare. He was prepared to catch him if he slid off. From this angle he could see that the mustached cowboy rode steady on opposite side of JD. He would also prevent the boy from falling. The cowboy met his eyes and nodded. The other three men regarded Lean Wolf with interest as well, waiting anxiously for his response. Yes, Lean Wolf thought: they are brothers.
They would see Ezra Standish for themselves soon enough. "The Chinese doctor is very wise."
Xiaoting did not enter the cabin with Sheng-Li and the others. He stayed outside and provided the Indian ponies with water and feed. Red Bear drank, too and tasted some of the rice the Chinese had brought with them. He thought it was wonderful but Bear found most foods to be appealing. Xiaoting observed the twisted leather bridal one of the ponies wore. He admired its construction. When he turned to speak with Red Bear, the Indian was standing alert listening to something in the woods. What now?
As Xiaoting watched Lean Wolf appeared at a great distance, leading five men on horseback. Red Bear was poised for attack but relaxed suddenly. Xiaoting observed this and wondered how the Indians had signaled each other. How had Lean Wolf communicated that the men were not a threat? Their language was complex, far more than words.
"Lean Wolf brings friends of the broken white man." Red Bear spoke to Xiaoting but never took his eyes from his Indian brother. He waited.
As the horse approached Xiaoting recognized each one of the men. The big preacher and the dangerous man in black. He recalled the rage he had felt at the railroad camp. The tracker in buckskin, the lanky mustached cowboy. His heart ricochet in his chest. These were the men who had listened. The men who had heard his people's plea. The black haired youth. Now it was Xiaoting's turn to listen.
"The youngest one is not well."
"How do you know that?" Bear asked him. Xiaoting watched the way JD's body was moved by the horse, his posture in the saddle, the exhaustion that he carried. Xiaoting quickly slipped in the house to alert his people.
When the group arrived at the cabin Xiaoting was there to greet them. "Welcome, my friends." He clasped his hands and bowed and bowed again. Josiah stepped in front of him and imitated his gesture, bowing low. Then he spread his arms wide and hugged the little man. "It's good to see you again, Sha-ting! Lan gou zai shan sang chang ge."
Xiaoting tried hard not to smile. He knew Josiah meant well but a smile bloomed anyway and when he forced it back it appeared like a comma in the corner of his face, irrepressible.
"What?!" Josiah shrugged innocently. "What did I say?"
"You said, 'Blue dog on the mountain singing."
A smile rippled through the group but the humor was quickly lost.
"Please." Chris could not wait any longer. "Is Ezra Standish here?"
Xiaoting led the men into the large cabin. They passed through the clean outer rooms and the draped entry. Ezra was there lying flat on his back on a padded table. A blanket had been placed across his hips but his battered torso was exposed. His face was bruised, and a row of tiny black stitches crossed his cheek. An elderly Chinese man pressed a cloth to a wound in his flank. Xiaoting bowed to the men from Four Corners and backed out of the room, leaving them with their friend.
JD approached him first and grasped his hand. "My God, Ezra! I'm so sorry." Ezra's head turned slowly toward the sound. JD saw Ezra squint, attempting to focus. "I wasn't fast enough. I didn't get back in time."
Ezra seemed alert. His fingers moved over the back of JD's hand. "JD! You came back." His voice was a hoarse whisper but his eyes flashed with awareness. "Wait. I tried...to wait...but she..." His mouth moved as if attempting to speak again but he could not. JD's eyes roamed despondently over the beaten face. He caught sight of the dozen gold needles piercing the skin at Ezra's temples and in his ears and he jumped back. Josiah caught him and grasped his shoulders.
"It's okay." The preacher spoke quietly into JD's ear. "I've seen this before. It's acupuncture--an ancient method of controlling pain." JD breathed hard, his stomach heaved. The tiny pins moved in a complicated pattern down Ezra's damaged chest. "He doesn't even feel the needles, JD."
Chris picked up Ezra's hand from where it lay unmoving, fingers gently curled. He traced a light path over the bruises encircling his wrist. He looked carefully into the gambler's eyes. "Ezra?" The needles were disturbing to Chris, too, but Ezra seemed to be comfortable and relieved to see his friends.
"Chris--wait. Please." Ezra was breathing harder now. "Don't go."
"We're not goin' anywhere without ya, pard." He settled on his elbows and nodded to the Chinese doctor to continue his work. "We'll stay with him."
Josiah and Vin leaned back against the wall but Buck pulled JD away. "C'mon, kid. Let's wait outside. Get a little fresh air." JD allowed Buck to steer him from the room and out onto the cabin porch. There was one chair and Buck gently pushed JD into it. He slumped back, relaxed and his eyes scanned the blue green woods.
"That was horrible, Buck." He shuddered. "All those needles. I couldn't stand that. It was horrible."
Buck walked to the edge of the porch, sat down and raked his long fingers through his hair. His eyes roamed the woods, too. "For once I'll agree with ya, JD. I was tempted to brush the damn things off him. Looked like he got attacked by a hundred tiny stinging insects." He turned and saw that JD was falling asleep, his head leaning on the wall. "But I gotta tell ya, for a man with a bullet hole blown in his gut Ezra was right peaceful."
When Xiaoting returned alone the two Indians led him to the small corral at the side of the cabin. Lean Wolf produced the derringer and it's rigging from a pouch that was strapped to his horse. He held them out for Xiaoting to examine.
Xiaoting remembered the way Ezra had worn the rigging on his arm and he experimented with positioning it on his own arm. The small gun fit in it somehow and an elaborate mechanism existed to snap the gun forward. He was fascinated.
Lean Wolf exchanged a quick glance with Bear. His father was right. The Chinese man would trade dearly for it.
Ferris Coleman moved carefully through the woods near the cabin. He waited for the right moment to present itself. Four bullets. The first one was for the black haired kid. The next three belonged to the body that stepped in front of them. It didn't matter who. He would kill them all.
He pressed himself against an old, wide elm and watched the house. He was well rewarded for his patience. The kid came out to the porch with one other man. They were talking, relaxed. They were waiting for something. Coleman could wait, too. Just a little longer.
Ai-Ling brought a stool into the room for Chris. He nodded to her and he slid the seat right to the edge of the bed. He held Ezra's arm above his wrist firmly and the gambler responded off and on by gripping Chris' arm in return. Ezra was fighting to stay alert. Sometimes he would say something but Chris couldn't always hear him clearly. Blood seeped from his mouth when he spoke and Chris picked up a cloth with his free hand and wiped it from his face. He did not release his hold on Ezra's arm.
"Ezra, you're safe." Chris said. "Try and sleep now. We won't leave you."
It was devastating to see the cocky gambler like this. His eyes were red rimmed and glossy: confused. He was struggling to keep eye contact with Chris. The needles held him suspended someplace between his pain and unconsciousness. Chris tried to hold his own rage at bay. He wished the convicts were still alive so he could have the satisfaction of killing the bastards himself.
Sheng-Li used a long instrument to pluck the bullet from Ezra's side. Chris cringed when he saw it but Ezra didn't flinch. The Chinese doctor moved quickly, smoothly, sometimes pausing to thrust and twist the little needles as he worked. The two others that helped him were like partners in a dance, their movements choreographed and performed with expertise. Ezra's wounds were sewn and bandaged. His cracked ribs were repositioned and wrapped tightly.
Ai-Ling came and held a glass of something for Ezra to drink. Chris stood and helped her raise him up. He was careful not to disturb the needles piercing his temple.
"He sleep." She said as he swallowed the medicated tea.
"Li-Pong." Ezra whispered.
Chris' eyes went wide, and he glanced at the woman. She was smiling kindly, stroking Ezra's face as he fell asleep. Maybe it was the best thing. Let him dream of a woman he once loved who was lost to him now. It was a sweet dream, Chris knew that.
But as soon as the tea was swallowed the Chinese moved quickly and lifted Ezra using the blanket beneath him like a stretcher. They brought him to another room. Vin, Josiah and Chris followed. The doctor stayed to settled Ezra in the clean bed, adjusting some of the needles and removing others. His assistants went back to the draped room at once, a flurry of activity.
Minutes later Ai-Ling returned to Ezra's room and bowed, nodding to the doctor.
"We're ready now." Sheng-Li said.
The three men looked at the doctor quizzically. "For what?" Chris asked.
"For the young one. The black haired lawman."
Buck stretched his long legs out in front of him and rolled his sore shoulders. It had been a long day. He leaned back on the porch, his hands behind him and felt the warmth of the sun on his face.
Nathan! Nathan should have come with them. Now Buck would have to bring Nathan back here or waste a thousand perfectly good evenings trying to answer all his questions; explain every detail. Nathan's curiosity would never be appeased.
"Well, hell! " Buck mused. Vin and Josiah were in there right now watching everything. He would simply direct the healer to the two 'experts' with all the questions. He smiled to himself and turned to JD.
The kid was passed out in the chair, sleeping restlessly. Buck thought JD almost looked like he was struggling to breathe. Sleep is the best thing for 'em. Buck figured JD just needed a good night's rest. As soon they knew Ezra was feeling better JD would be able to rest, too. Buck stood, stretching again and went into the house to check on the others. He chuckled to himself. Better make sure Vin and Josiah are paying real close attention!
JD was back in Boston on a hot summer night. He was trying to walk but never moving forward, trying to scream but no sound emerged. He recognized the street where he stood: he had played here as a child. Lampposts shined brightly, pulsating. He heard bees buzzing somewhere. The light from the lamp was moving toward him, closer, faster, the insects following. Before it engulfed him he broke through the surface of his nightmare and opened his eyes; his heart pounding.
He took a deep breath and rocked forward putting his elbows on his knees. He scrubbed his face with his hands. Something had wakened him. He stood up painfully, moving slowly to be certain he had his balance. He placed his hands on his guns and walked off the porch toward the woods. He hiked a short distance, studying the trees, scanning the brush. Something was there. What was it?
A figure emerged from the standing timber. A slight man about JD's age. JD had seen him before, but where? Suddenly the man disappeared into the woods again just as Buck and Chris came out to the porch, the door slamming the cabin wall as it opened. JD continued to study the trees as the Chinese doctor emerged followed by Vin and Josiah. JD glanced back and saw them all standing there; they seemed to be arguing about something.
"No, sir!" Buck was tense. There was no way he would let them stick needles into JD. The kid hated the sight of them. It would only make him worse.
"That bullet just winged him. He's gonna be fine." He glared at the other lawmen.
"Please." Sheng-Li spoke calmly. The men turned to him and he lifted his hand, palm up like a circus man presenting the next act. He bent low; gesturing to a dark puddle beneath the chair JD had slept in. "He is still bleeding." A drop of blood fell from the back of the chair into the puddle as they watched, disturbing the surface.
Buck was stunned. "What the hell?! The bandage on his arm isn't even bloody!"
"Because he bleeds from his body." Sheng-Li knew this from the color of JD's skin, from the hue of pain in his eyes, from the sheen of sweat on his face, and from a dozen other clues that spoke to him. Could his friends not hear?
"Listen to me, brother." Josiah grasped Buck's shoulder. "It'll be okay. These people know what they're doing. Ezra wasn't feelin' a thing."
Chris stood with his arms crossed tightly in front of him and glanced across the yard to JD. He watched as the kid studied the woods. JD leaned sluggishly on one hip, his usual vigor gone. He held both hands on his guns but instead of a threatening posture he looked like he was gripping them to keep his balance. Chris was tempted to toss JD over his shoulder and haul him back to the cabin but JD was no boy. He had proven that every time he was tested and he was tested far too often.
"He looks bad, Buck." Chris met Buck's eyes. "You better talk to him."
Buck sighed and wiped his hand across his mouth anxiously. He should have known. He knew the kid better than any of them. JD was hiding his pain and Buck had allowed him to. JD felt he had failed Ezra and that torment was a deeper wound than the one cut by the derringer. But they had found Ezra. The gambler's random acts of kindness had finally landed him in compassionate hands. It was time to heal JD's physical wounds, too.
"Yeah, okay." Buck's heart was racing. He had to be calm and reason with JD. A shutter passed over Buck as he thought of the repulsive pins that pierced Ezra's flesh.
"I'll bring him up here. But he ain't gonna like it." Buck took a step off the porch and the tracker did the same. He slapped Buck on the back. "I'll go with ya, pard. You do the talking."
"Thanks, Vin." Buck did feel better having Vin with him. Somehow the tracker would make it easier to convince JD. Vin never said much, but his steady demeanor spoke volumes. JD needed the wound tended to. It was common sense. If he wouldn't listen to Buck maybe he would listen to the message Vin conveyed just by being present.
"Ezra..." JD called over his shoulder as his two friends approached. "How's Ezra doing?" His eyes were glistening but stayed fixed on the woods."The Doc thinks he's gonna make it." Buck and Vin walked up to JD and stood on either side of him. "We're all damn lucky these people are here." Buck saw that JD was trembling. How had he not seen that before?
"Yeah." JD spoke absently, shifting slightly as if the ground had moved under him. He kept watching the trees. "Ezra's pretty stubborn. He'll pull through this...he's got to."
"What are ya lookin' at, JD?" Vin scanned the woods. Nothing seemed amiss.
"I saw someone in the woods. He was walking toward me...with a gun." Sweat dripped from JD's brow. The collar of his shirt was wet. He was breathing hard--the simple act of remaining upright was exhausting him.
Buck exchanged a quick glance with Vin and then stepped in front of JD and grasped the front of his jacket. "JD, listen to me for a minute." JD looked over Buck's shoulder never breaking his concentration on the forest.
"What?" JD tried to push Buck gently to the side to see around him. "What is it, Buck?" The ladies' man unbuttoned JD's coat, pulling it open. The left side of his shirt was soaked with blood. JD looked down at himself, surprised.
"Jeez, Buck! I gotta get this cleaned up." He pulled his coat closed and walked toward the woods. "But I better find that man first."
Vin caught up with JD and held his arm. "Wait, JD. I'll check the woods for that shooter, you go back and get the doc to fix you up."
JD studied Vin's face. What was it Vin was trying to tell him? Vin was always saying something without saying it. JD felt too tired to read the man. "He was over there," JD pointed to the stand of elms across the field. The trees seemed to blur to a smudge of green and brown. JD blinked to clear his vision. He was sure he had seen the gunman somewhere before--recently.
"Okay, JD. Vin will check it out. Let's get you back to the house." Buck grasped JD's good arm and turned him back to the cabin. As they walked JD saw the group on the porch. Josiah and Chris were coming toward them but the Chinese doctor stood waiting on the step. JD turned and looked Buck full in the face, stunned. "Hell no, Buck!" He yanked his arm away staggering backward. "The needles?! Are you crazy?!" He gaped at his friend.
In two quick steps Buck moved behind JD and wrapped his long arms around him, immobilizing him. "Easy, JD! I'll stay with you. It's gonna be okay." Their faces were so close he felt JD's fever burning.
JD lifted his leg and swung his foot, smashing into Buck's knee. Buck fell back, surprised and released his grip. JD ran. He could see the horses from here. He could outride them all.
Vin caught him easily only a few strides from Buck. JD's body was yanked to a full stop by Vin's grip and he crumbled to the ground in pain, wrestling with the tracker.
"Get off, Vin. Get off me! " A few seconds later Chris and Josiah were there, too. He could not escape.
Buck knelt down and pulled JD up into a sitting position then sat behind him, using the same embracing hold he had before. "JD, listen to me." Buck's voice was firm. JD still struggled but Buck held tighter.
"You got a bullet in ya and you're still bleeding. Ya gotta get it fixed up."
JD felt Buck's strong presence on him like a straightjacket. He didn't want to give up but he was trapped. He tried one last time to pull away but he knew it was hopeless. He let his head fall back against his friend's shoulder, exhausted.
"No, Buck. No. I don't want to."
Buck understood now that he held a badly wounded man in his arms. He kept his hold firm even though he felt the fight had gone out of JD. He held him close and listened to him breathe. Buck pushed the damp hair from JD's face.
"I'm sorry, kid, ya gotta go back to the house."
JD used all his strength to remain awake. He didn't want to revisit the hot Boston street of his nightmare or the room where the needles were. He felt a breeze on his skin. He could hear noise from the horses in the distance. He wanted to ride away from here.
Vin heard something else entirely. His eyes flicked to the woods. JD had seen someone! When would he learn to trust the kid's instincts?
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