Disclaimer: No, sadly we do not own these wonderful characters. And we are making no money off of this. And if I were, I wouldn't tell you....but I'm not. So don't sue me.
Author's Notes: This story is
a deathfic of major characters based on the song
by
Rating: some cussing, so I guess PG-13
Warning! Deathfic!Across the Borderline
So they ride
To the desert wind
Down the dusty trail
Destiny begins
And heroes never turn
or look back
They just ride
Through the sands of
time
On the borderline
~
Ezra Standish pushed his body as flat as it could go against the wall. Bullets riddled the side of the cabin that he and Buck had found themselves in. Buck. He shot a look over to his compatriot.
The usually gallant ladies man laid in a pool of his own blood, slumped against the far wall. Blood blossomed across Buck’s chest staining the blue material of his shirt. Ezra gulped down his fear.
They were going to die.
He pushed his pain hazed thoughts away. He had already taken two bullets himself and soon the posse outside was going to realize that only one of the lawmen was shooting back now.
Where the fuck was
the
Ezra reloaded his Remington with a shaky hand. He watched as blood flowed down his fingers, making the bullets slippery and almost impossible to load into the gun.
The others should
be here by now. Where were they? The plan had been for Buck and Ezra to lead
the outlaw gang away from
Now where the hell were they?
Ezra weakly pushed himself away from the wall and tried to return fire. He was rewarded with only one scream of pain. His own vision was becoming blurry, therefore most of his shots were wild.
Certainly,
“Buck.” The pain filled voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Buck!” The injured man didn’t move. “Damn it, Wilmington. You better not be dead.”
Ezra would’ve tried to make it to his fallen friend’s side but his own pain and the constant barrage of bullets that riddled the house made it nearly impossible for him to get there without getting shot again.
Oh God. They were going to die. Or Buck was and Ezra would unfortunately live and have to face the wrath of Larabee and the grief of JD.
Ezra felt his knees weaken. Blackness was encroaching on the edges of his vision. Somewhere in the back of his less than lucid mind he thought about maybe taking care of his own wounds. The hole in his shoulder was vigorously pumping out blood while his side felt as someone had run a hot poker through him.
He felt himself sliding. Maybe a little rest. His eyes were growing heavy. NO! Stay up! Ezra weakly grabbed for a ledge and gamely tried to struggle to his feet. He had to stay on his feet. He had to get Buck out of here.
The hot lead that buried itself in his thigh made the decision for him. He fell to the ground and cried out in pain, the Remington clattering onto the ground as well. Flashing lights took up his vision and the sudden urge to just give up assaulted him.
Just give up, Ezra. They gave up on you.
NO! They would
come. They had to come. It was the plan, formulated by none other than
He wouldn’t give up on them, or Buck, or himself.
The gambler pulled himself along the floor, leaving a wide trail of blood in his wake. He made it to Buck’s side and pulled off the unconscious man’s bandanna. Then, with a shaking hand, pressed down on the angry wound in the big man’s chest. He didn’t dare check for a pulse. Ezra knew he couldn’t handle it if there wasn’t one.
No response.
Ezra winced. He applied more pressure to the bullet hole with his good arm hoping to keep his friend with him. Hoping against all hope that Buck wasn’t already dead.
It was a few minutes before Ezra realized that there was relative quiet outside. That only meant one thing. The outlaws had finally decided that the two were either dead or dying.
They would be coming through the door at any minute. As long as Buck was alive, Ezra would go down fighting.
He maneuvered himself so that he was in front of Buck, still applying pressure. With his other arm, the gambler gripped his Colt Richards Conversion. The first six men to come through that door were dead men.
His arm felt like
lead but he managed to raise it when he saw the doorknob turn. The door flung
open and he almost fired before he recognized the cold blue eyes of
Ezra’s arm fell to the floor. “Thank God,” he breathed.
***
“This was supposed
to have been simple,”
The gang wasn’t supposed to be this big. The wire said twenty men. Not forty.
He remembered the time at the Indian village.
“I thought you said there were twenty?”
“I asked would twenty men scare you.”
“Twenty, no. Forty, yes!”
And now he was cut
off from two of his men that were undoubtedly being bombarded. Ezra and Buck
were just going to lead the gang away from
However,
Ten against two. Never good odds. But he was fueled by anger and by fear. He knew that if he and Vin didn’t get around to the East of the shack, the others were done for.
Nothing.
“You
alright?”
“Fine, cowboy. You?” the lazy Texan drawl shot back.
“Worried. Let’s get going.”
Vin easily found their horses and the two lawmen mounted and tore off to their position.
***
JD, Nathan and Josiah
had also run into a small band of the large outlaw group. But they had quickly
vanquished the foe and made a mad dash for the West side of the
When they arrived,
it was eerily quiet. From the looks of it, the gang came, shot up
The three men cautiously rode toward the house. Nathan gasped at the damage done to the house, Josiah prayed and JD visibly paled.
Nathan tore his
eyes away from the damage when he heard the rapid beat of hooves.
That only meant one thing.
JD’s eyes widened in horror. “Buck!” he yelled. The young man flung himself off his horse but Josiah grabbed him before he could run inside.
“Let go!” JD struggled in the big preacher’s arms. “I gotta see if Buck’s ok! We gotta help him! Buck!”
“I’ll go in first
JD.”
“Thank God,” the conman whispered as he dropped the gun to the floor. “I thought I was going to die alone.”
The other four men
stepped in beside
Ezra and Buck lay in pools of their own blood. Buck was paler than a sheet, his shirt front a bright red.
Ezra was trying to keep some of Buck’s blood inside his body but they all knew it was a futile cause.
Nathan pushed his way in and dropped to Buck’s side. He laid a trembling hand against the big man’s neck and found nothing. He hung his head.
“He’s gone.” he said softly.
“NO!” JD flung himself out of Josiah’s grasp and threw himself at his best friend. “No, Buck! Please, wake up Buck please.” He grabbed Buck’s hand and cried. “Oh God no! This can’t be happening. Wake up, Buck.”
Nathan turned his attention away from the heart wrenching scene and onto the bleeding gambler. He noticed the green eyes were clouded with tears and pain.
“Nathan. I tried. I tried,” he whispered his southern accent thick and slurred.
“We know you did, Ezra.” Nathan tried to reassure the southerner as he did a cursory check. The wound in the shoulder was not serious. However, the bullet that entered his side had imbedded itself into the soft tissue and the one that entered his thigh had severed an artery. It was amazing he was still alive.
“Forgive me,
please.
Ezra managed a slight smile. He was fading fast. He felt it.
“It was a pleasure riding with you. Maybe, I’ll see you again.”
Josiah laid a gentle hand on the dying man’s chest. “Maybe.”
Ezra’s smile grew but he suddenly coughed. Blood spurted from his lips, he took one last shuddering breath and he was gone.