The third night on the trail found the three peacekeepers weary and ready to bed down. They'd had coffee, beans, and bacon and were camped next to a small creek that provided fresh water. Vin knew there were fish in the creek and would catch some before the other two woke at dawn. He was taking the second watch this time and rubbed at his back as a dull ache began to build there. He'd always had pain in his back, sometimes it was so bad it nearly incapacitated him, but tonight it was just an annoying throb. He pulled his blanket up over his body and closed his eyes.
Standish watched as Sanchez and Tanner settled under their bedrolls. He hadn't missed Tanner's wince when he twisted under the blankets and was not so sure he would wake him in four hours. His gaze went to Sanchez and he nodded when the older man pointed to himself and knew he was saying he would take the next watch. The gambler began walking along the outer edges of their makeshift camp and until he found a place to sit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the deck of cards he kept there. There were tricks he could do to keep himself occupied, ones he'd learned growing up in the care of his mother's family. He'd learned at an early age that he could keep his hands and mind occupied by perfecting his technique with the cards. The hours passed quickly as again and again he flipped the deck through his fingers and checked the perimeter of the camp while keeping the fire going. Finally midnight came and he touched the ex-preacher's shoulder gently.
"I believe you wished to be roused for the second watch," he whispered and looked towards the sleeping tracker.
"Yeah, get some sleep, Ez."
"I will, Mr. Sanchez."
Josiah stood and shook off the last vestiges of sleep and added a few broken pieces of wood to the fire. He checked the horses and returned to the fire, smiling as he heard the soft snoring from both men. Vin Tanner seemed worn out during the days' ride and it had been obvious his back was bothering him. The older man often wondered what caused the pain and whether it was from an injury or something he'd been born with. Tanner was such a private man he didn't think he'd ever know the full story. The ex-preacher turned away from the fire and strode towards the creek. The moonlight shone off the rippling water and added to the serenity of the musical sound of gurgling flow.
He walked back to his saddle and reached into the bag that clung to one side. There he found a small knife that he'd owned since his days in the ministry. He rarely talked of those days, but often found himself using things he'd learned in his experiences. He walked back to the creek and removed his boots and sock and rolled up the legs of his pants. He knew he had to be perfectly still and let his instincts take over as he stood in the middle of the slowly moving stream. The vibrant moon hung heavy in the sky and illuminated the water and the man who stood silent and still at the center. His eyes spotted a darker shadow and his arm moved as if of its own volition and came up with a writhing fish impaled on its sharp tip. It wasn't big, but he threw it on shore and returned his attention to the job of catching breakfast.
Vin slowly woke to the delicious enticing smell of fish and quickly threw back the blankets to find Josiah Sanchez smiling around a mouthful of trout. He shook his head as he realized the two men had let him sleep and knew it was out of concern for him.
"Thanks," he said simply as he accepted a plate of fish from the conman.
"You're welcome," the ex-preacher said and poured coffee into a battered cup before passing it to the Texan.
"Tastes good."
"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Tanner. A finer feast I have never before indulged in," Standish blustered.
"Somehow I doubt that, Ezra. Maude didn't strike me as a person who disliked the finer things in life including meals."
"Well, Mr. Sanchez, it behooves me to say that Mothah was not always around when I was growing up, but she did love eating at fabulous restaurants, and I have accompanied her to several, but I reiterate that this is the finest feast I have had and might I add that the company at this time is preferable to the stuff shirts we dined with!"
"Ez, why don'tcha just say ya like our company better."
"I thought I just did," Standish said frowning bewilderedly at the two men. The two smiled knowingly and they ate the remainder of breakfast in silence before saddling the horses and riding towards their destination. They knew if they rode hard the rest of the day they would be in Midfield by midnight or shortly after.
Chris woke on and off through the night, mumbling unintelligibly as the fever continued to ravage his body. He'd search for something or someone, but the illusive people he saw in his dreams were always just shadows he could not reach while awake. Someone had thrown a heavy blanket over him and the heat was nearly unbearable, but he did not have the strength to push it off. He frowned as he tried to move his arms and legs, but they were mired in thick sludge that allowed little or no movement at all. The room he was in was completely dark and the only sound was his harsh breathing.
"Sarah," the word was whispered with a deep longing that would've sent tremors through the most hardened heart, but even worse was the sound of soft sobs that escaped the injured man's raw throat. There was no one there to offer comfort or soothe the man from his too-real nightmares as Chris Larabee slipped back into the dreams that did little to ease his tortured body and spirit.
Buck held the reins of the horse as he drove the buggy towards town. His new wife sat beside him, but few words were exchanged between them as the town loomed in the distance. They'd passed several other couples walking and riding and acknowledged them with a tip of the hat or a simple wave of the hand.
"You're too quiet today, Buck, what's wrong?"
"How can you even ask me that, Angela?" Wilmington asked not bothering to look at the woman as his voice was edged with bitter defeat.
"Perhaps we should go home. It wouldn't do for people to see you unhappy so soon after we married," the woman said coldly.
"No, I'll put on a good show for you, Angela, but you need to know that that's all it is, an act and God help me, but I'll see it through."
"I'm sure you will, but you also need to think about Chris and what I can do for or to him."
"That's always on my mind, Angela," the gentle rogue said as they drew up alongside another buggy. He quickly climbed out, threw the reins over the itching post and reached up to help her from the buggy. He could feel the townspeople watching him and made a show of pulling her close and walking towards the small church with her. He spotted Evan Rawlings and smiled as the man linked arms with Martha Collins. The two seemed well suited and he hoped they could find happiness together.
"Buck, are you listening to me?"
"Sorry, I was just thinking about Evan and Miss Collins."
"They do make a handsome couple, don't they?"
"Yeah, they do," he said wistfully as they entered the church and took seats halfway up the aisle. Ethan and Martha quickly joined them exchanged pleasantries before Phillip Collins stood before the congregation and began to speak.
Ethan Turner groaned as he dismounted and stepped inside the line shack. He knew he was later getting back than he should have been and was glad Clark was not there. He'd fallen off his horse and slept several hours before coming to and blinking his eyes against the blinding sunlight stabbing at his skull. His big bay was standing a few yards away feeding on the grass it found there. It didn't take long for him to grab the reins and mount up, but the ride back had been nothing but pure torture.
Turner enter the shack and heard someone talking, but quickly realized it was just Larabee speaking to someone only he could see. He walked to the bed, swayed and rubbed at tired eyes before finally focusing on his charge.
"Damn, ya'd best not die on me ya bastard! I got plans for the money she's givin' me!" He looked around the shack and tried to think past the headache and sour stomach and realized he needed to make sure the bandages were changed and Larabee drank something before he could give into his own body's need for sleep. Taking the bucket from the table he hurried outside to the well and drew fresh water. He hurried back inside and started a fire before hanging a kettle of water over it. While he waited for the water to heat he went back to the injured man and pulled back the covers. His fever was still high and tiny beads of sweat ran down the pale cheeks.
With a put-upon sigh he sat down and began bathing the glistening chest and washing away the evidence of Larabee's fever.
"Should be me lyin' down, Larabee, but if that bitch comes out here and sees ya like this she's li'ble ta tear a few strips from my hide."
Chris found himself dragged from his quiet dream as something was roughly washed over his body. He struggled to get away, but quickly realized there was no escape and this nightmare was very real. Forcing heavy lids to rise he stared at the shadowy figure sitting beside the bed. The man was muttering something with each swipe of the cloth, but Chris could not make sense of his slurred words. He knew there was no point in fighting him, and right now he didn't have the strength to do so. He drifted in fevered delirium, but was dragged towards consciousness once more as something was placed at his lips. He drank without fighting and gasped as the slightly too warm liquid flowed down his throat. He knew to get sick would probably kill him because there was no doubt in his mind that his tormentor would and could easily lose his temper. All of this ran through Chris's mind until finally his head was released and he was allowed to seek out his dreams once more.
Rosemary silently cursed as she looked at her husband. Joseph had never shown any backbone where she was concerned, but the last few days he'd become increasingly dominating and wanted her to break all ties with Angela Tate. She couldn't let him ruin something that had been a saving grace in her life at a time when she had nothing to fall back on. Since their first meeting in St. Louis the two women had bonded and vowed they would always be there for each other. She gently straightened the blankets over him as she listened to him once more.
"Rosemary, did you hear what I said?"
"I heard you, Joseph, I just don't know what to say."
"Tell me you'll do as I say," Clark told his younger wife.
"I can't, Joseph. Angela and I have been through too much to throw it all away because you're nervous about what you know."
"Nervous? No, it goes beyond nervous. I thought I knew you and could change you, but after seeing the way you've been acting I find I don't know you at all."
"What do you mean?"
"You don't show any remorse for what you've done. If anything you seem to be enjoying yourself. I won't be a party to it anymore and as soon as I get into town today I'm going to speak with Sheriff Rawlings."
"You can't mean that, Joseph!"
"I can and I do, Rosemary. I will not allow you two to hurt anyone else. How many have there been? Can you even answer that?"
"No, but there haven't been that many and they left us no choice."
"What about Larabee and Wilmington? What did they do to you?"
"Nothing to me, Joseph, but Wilmington bedded Angela and then told her he would not marry her! Don't you see we had to do something or her reputation in Midfield would be ruined!"
"She must have been a willing partner..."
"That may be, but only because she loved him and thought they were going to be wed! He used her and we had to do something to make sure her reputation was untarnished."
"Is her reputation worth a man's life?"
"Tell me Joseph, would we be having this conversation if the roles were reversed and Angela or I were the ones in their position?"
"Of course we would! This has to stop before anyone else is killed, Rosemary. Come see Sheriff Rawlings with me and we'll get this straightened out."
"I'll go to jail, Joseph."
"Not if I can help it," Clark said as a sharp pain raced through his chest. He groaned and sank back onto his chair, as the pain grew worse. He looked up at his wife and saw the smile on her face as she held a small vial in front of his eyes.
"Is something wrong, Joseph?"
"Wh...what did you d...do?" the older man asked as cramping pain cut through his gut.
"I've grown tired of waiting for you to die, so I just gave you a little something to help you along. Is there much pain...I did not really mean for you to suffer so, but I refuse to let you ruin things for Angela and I. We will be leaving before long, but I will stay around to see that you have a proper burial. After all you have been a good husband. Sh," she placed her hand over his lips as he tried to talk and leaned down to kiss him once more. "Save your strength, Joseph, although there is really no need. I will send for Dr. Morton shortly, but first I need to be sure it is too late to help you. I'll make you proud of me though. I'll play the distraught widow so well the town of Midfield will be in danger of flooding. They'll come to help me and mourn your passing, but it will be easier that you passed with the woman you love by your side."
"W...won't b...believe you," the dying man gasped as he clutched at his chest. Now he knew why she had served him breakfast in bed. It would be easy for her to tell her story and have people believe he had truly had a peaceful passing.
"Yes, they will, Joseph, you see I will put on a performance that would take your breath away if you had any left in you, but I don't think you hear me even now. Thank you for giving me some good years, but now I must grieve your passing and look to my future." Rosemary let the tears fall and hurried out of the bedroom. She threw open the doors and called for help and was relieved to see Matthew Jennings racing towards the house.
"What's wrong, Mrs. Clark?"
"Oh, Matt, he's...it's Joseph...he...he...oh God send someone for Dr. M...Morton!"
"What's wrong?" the ranch hand repeated as the woman trembled at his touch.
"It's Joseph. I woke up before him and had Maria make breakfast for us, but Joseph seemed t...to be s...sleeping a...and he's b...been do tired lately that I...I just didn't want to wake him, but he was so happy when I brought his breakfast t...to him."
"What are you trying to say, Mrs. Clark?"
"H...he's gone, Matt. He's dead...oh, God," She wilted towards the ground and he caught her and lifted her into his arms and carried her inside.
Matt moved towards the spare bedroom and placed her on the bed before getting Maria to come sit with her. Once he was sure the woman was taken care of he hurried to the bedroom and found Joseph Clark propped up on pillows. His eyes were open and unseeing and Jennings knew before he checked that the man was dead. Taking a deep breath he removed the tray and covered the man's body with the blanket. He knew they needed to get the doctor out to look at Mrs. Clark and make sure things were arranged for the man's burial. Turning away from the room he headed outside to assign the tasks to other ranch hands and to send a message to Angela Wilmington.
Angela looked at the young man who rode swiftly towards them. She recognized him as one of Clark's hands and knew something was wrong as he drew abreast of the buggy.
"Afternoon, Ma'am, Mr. Wilmington."
"Good afternoon, Walter, is something wrong?"
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Jennings sent me to fetch ya back to the ranch."
"Why? Is she ill?" Angela asked.
"It's Mr. Clark, Mrs. Ta...Wilmington. Seems he died this morning and she's very distraught."
"Oh, Buck, would you drive me over there?"
Wilmington nodded as he tried to read the look on the woman's face. He'd seen a slight smile before a mask of grief descended and the woman acted as if she was truly saddened at the news. "Course I will."
"I'm gonna go on into town and fetch Reverend Collins and Doc Morton," Walter Hastings advised.
"Thank you, Walter," Angela said as her husband flicked the reins and the horse started forward again. She watched the handsome rogue's face and knew something was running through his mind. "Buck, what are you thinking about?"
"Joseph seemed fine when they left the other day."
"Yes, but he had a weak heart according to Dr. Morton."
"That right? He sure didn't show any sign of that when he was dancing with Rosemary."
"What are you trying to say, Buck?"
"Did she kill him, Angela?"
"Of course not! Rosemary may be much younger than Joseph, but she loved him as much as I love you."
"You got a funny way of showing love."
"What do you mean?" She asked indignantly and heard a harsh laugh escape.
"I'd answer that, but I'm afraid of what you'd do to Chris."
"Buck, I am giving you a chance to speak whatever is on your mind with a promise that for the moment nothing will happen to Chris Larabee. If you have anything you want to get off your chest you'd better do it now while I'm in the right frame of mind!"
"Chris won't be hurt?"
"No, it stays right here, but once we reach Rosemary's things return to the way they are supposed to be and Chris will pay for what you do or say there."
"I thought I knew you, Angela, but the woman I knew and loved wasn't real was she?"
"She was, but she hasn't existed since she was forced into a loveless marriage and had to run away from home at fourteen because she killed her husband. I won't lie and say it was an accident, because that would be a lie. I killed him because he thought he owned me and could do what he wanted to me. The final straw for me was when he bit me so badly he drew blood and laughed at me when I tried to cover myself. I ran away, changed my name and became Angela Tate when I met you in Midfield. I ran off with Robert Stratton because he had money and I craved that kind of life, but I found that having was not the same as wanting."
"So what happened to Stratton?"
"He died...and no I didn't kill him, not directly anyway. Rosemary and I knew we were going to be blamed and I took what money I could and came back here. Do you want to know why?"
"Because of me?"
"That's right. All the while I was married to Robert I dreamed it was your arms that held me and I knew I had to find you again. We settled down here even after I resigned myself to not finding you. Angela met and married Joseph and I bought the ranch we live in and was content with my life until I saw the story about you and Four Corners. I knew fate meant for us to be together again."
"How many people have you two murdered, Angela?"
"That's a loaded question, Buck, and one I'm not going to answer."
"Did she kill Joseph?"
"I won't answer that one either, Buck, and if that's the kind of questions you insist on asking then this ends now."
"You said it would last until we reached the Clark place."
"I'm changing my mind, Buck, so you've been warned! Watch what you say!"
Wilmington lapsed into silence as he continued to drive the buggy past the Tate ranch and further along the trail towards the Clark place. His mind kept turning to Chris Larabee and he wondered if the blond was still alive. He felt Angela move closer to him and wanted more than anything to push her away, but thoughts of retaliation made him grin and bear it.
Ethan Turner wiped his lips as he sat on the chair watching for Rosemary Clark. The woman was later than normal and he was beginning to think she wasn't going to show up as the sun began to dip below the horizon. Larabee was unnaturally quiet since he'd given him the laudanum and herbs she'd left for him. Turner was enjoying the quiet, but as the day drew towards an end he was desperate to go into town and get a drink. He shook his head angrily at being stuck at the line shack and made up his mind to give Clark another hour and if she didn't show up he'd take off into town and if she came out he'd just tell the woman he'd been looking for her so she could come out and check on Larabee.
Smiling, Turner stood up and went back inside where he heated water and began preparing the herbal mixture he'd force on the injured man. It would not take long and he'd be on his way into town within the hour.
Buck watched as Angela and Rosemary sat in the parlor of the Clark home. There had been a lot of visitors throughout the day until Angela insisted that her friend needed to rest. Reverend Collins and his sister were among the last to leave and again Buck noticed that Evan Rawlings was paying rapt attention to the preacher's sister.
"Buck, would you bring Rosie and myself some tea."
"It's been such a trying day I would prefer something a little stronger," Clark said as she smiled at her friend.
"Sure, Rosie, anything you wish."
"Brandy, a big one," the other woman said and pointed towards the table that held a variety of liquor.
"Oh that sounds wonderful," Angela said, smiling at her husband as he quickly poured them each a drink. "Perhaps you should spend the next few days at our home."
"Thank you, Angela, but I wouldn't dream of interfering with your wedded bliss," Clark said as she smiled and motioned towards Wilmington.
"How is he behaving?"
"Very well. In fact at church this morning he was more than attentive and if I hadn't insisted on behaving in a dignified fashion I believe we would have been driven out of town. It was wonderful," Angela explained.
"Sounds like Buck knows who is in charge here."
"I think he's beginning to realize his choices are very limited. I think he's worried about Chris today."
"I'm afraid with everything that's happened I've been unable to check on him, but I'm sure Ethan is taking very good care of him."
"I'll ride out there tomorrow before the funeral while Buck makes sure you're taken care of."
"I'd like to see him," Wilmington said and heard the two women laugh.
"That's out of the question right now, Lover. Right now I don't have the time to let you visit him, but if you prefer I'll stay here as well and we can leave your friend in Turner's not so capable hands. It's your choice, Buck, but keep in mind that it is in my best interests to make sure Chris stays alive. So what's your pleasure?"
"You go check on him," Wilmington said, shoulder slumping in defeat as he glared at the two people he hated above all else.
Vin, Josiah, and Ezra rode into the sleepy little town and looked around. None of the men was all that impressed with what they saw, but looks could be deceiving. The trio headed towards the only place that seemed to still have any life and watched as a man stumbled through the door and landed in a heap on the ground.
Tanner caught sight of a slight movement in the shadows of the alley between the saloon and the mercantile and dismounted as the drunk staggered towards the lone horse tied to the hitching post. He heard Josiah and Ezra dismount and hurry past him.
"Are you coming, Vin?"
"Gimme a minute, Josiah," Tanner said as he watched the shadows for further movement. The drunk seemed unaware of the person watching him and Vin looped Peso's reins over the post and sauntered slowly towards the alley. He knew whatever was going on was none of his business, but his instincts were not to be ignored. Again the drunk tried to mount up, but was unable to do so as he slid to the ground and lay still. Vin turned towards the alley as the shadow moved out into the street and was bathed in the meager light coming from the swinging batwing doors. "Friend a yers?"
"No, just someone I needed to find out more about."
"Ya the law here?"
"Have been for near on fifteen years! Name's Evan Rawlings. Give me a hand to get this one into a cell so he can sleep it off."
"Sure, name's Vin Tanner, my friends and I are lookin'..."
"Vin Tanner. Damn, talk about coincidences. I was gonna telegram Four Corners first thing in the mornin'. Is Chris with you boys?"
"No, he's s'posed ta be here with Buck."
"Damn, I was afraid of that. All right, let's get him locked up and I'll buy you boys a drink and we'll talk about what's been happening here." The two men dragged Turner towards the jail and locked him inside the single cell before crossing the street and entering the saloon once more. Vin spotted Josiah and Ezra at a back table and hurried to join them.
"Friend of yours, Vin?" Sanchez asked.
"Josiah, Ezra, this here's the law in these parts. Think maybe he has some news 'bout Buck and Chris."
"Evan Rawlings. I may have news, but I'm not so sure it's gonna do anything to ease your minds any."
"So Mister's Larabee and Wilmington did visit your town," Standish stated.
"Yeah, they did. Saw Chris a day or two after he arrived. Didn't seem real happy and said he was sending a message. I take it you boys never got that message," Rawlings asked.
"Haven't heard from either of them since they left Four Corners," Sanchez answered worriedly.
"I take it they are no longer here?" Standish asked.
"Buck is. Got himself hitched a few days ago..."
"Buck got married?" Sanchez asked incredulously and saw the disbelief on Tanner and Standish's faces. They all knew Buck had feelings for Angela Tate, but could not believe he would have married the woman without letting them know.
"He sure did."
"Was Mr. Larabee at the happy nuptials?" the gambler asked.
"No, and Buck was acting kind of strange."
"How so?" Tanner asked.
"It was like he was forcing himself to smile and I swear he shied away from his new wife, now does that sound like a man who's happy he's getting married?" Rawlings asked.
"Sounds more like a man who is being forced into doing something he has no desire to do," Standish said.
"That's what I thought. I figured something was wrong, but couldn't get a chance to speak with Buck alone. Angela was always with him. Buck asked me to stand with him, and I think that's when I knew something was really wrong, because he'd said Chris was going to stand for him. There's something else too."
"What?" Sanchez inquired.
"Angela's friend is a woman named Rosemary Clark. They came here together and Rosemary married a rancher named Joseph Clark. They bought the hotel here in town and run the telegraph office as well."
"What does all of this have to do with Chris and Buck?" the ex-preacher asked.
"I'm getting to it. I've been leery of those two since they came here, but could never prove anything. Even the telegrams I sent came back saying Rosemary and Angela were exactly who they claimed to be. I think that was because my messages were never sent. Joseph Clark died today. Now I'm not saying there was anything wrong about how he died, but coming so close to Chris's disappearance it kinda tells me there's two skunks loose and Buck and Chris are knee deep in something they can't get out of without help."
"So who was the man we put in your jail?" Tanner asked.
"His name is Turner. Not too sure about his first name, but he's been around a couple of years. He's got one of them faces that makes you think he's a kid, but he's older than that and I'm thinkin' he knows where Chris is!" Rawlings was shocked at how quickly the three men came to their feet. He stood and blocked the exit as best he could, but knew there would be no stopping them if they really wanted to go through him. He had never been a coward, but there were times like this when a man should just back off.
"I believe it would be beneficial to your health if you remove yourself from our presence," Standish blustered.
"What are you boys planning?" Rawlings asked.
"Got a few questions fer Turner!" the Texan spat.
"He's in no shape to answer questions and if he's working for Angela Tate and Rosemary Clark then he's not gonna be all that willing to talk to you."
"We know how to handle men like Turner," Sanchez advised.
"I'm sure you do, but if you sit down I'll tell you what I've got planned and I think you'll find my plans a lot simpler than yours."
"Got five minutes!" Tanner advised as he sat back down.
"I figure we let Turner wake up on his own or if you're in such an all fired hurry to get moving we can douse him with water and I can tell him to move on. When he leaves we can follow at a safe distance and hope he leads us to Chris."
"Sounds like a good plan," Sanchez said. "Vin, think you can track him in the dark?"
"No problem. Sheriff..."
"Call me Evan."
"Evan, how sure are ya that this guy is workin' fer them two women?"
"Pretty damn sure considerin' how many times I've seen him visit Rosemary Clark at the telegraph office," Rawlings explained.
"Any way you can get a message to Buck?" Sanchez asked.
"Not without his wife 'round. Least she'll be busy with her friend and Joseph's funeral."
"Will Mr. Clark be buried in the town cemetery?" Standish asked.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Perhaps it would be prudent if you and I remained in town. I believe Mr. Wilmington would be quite relieved if he knew he had assistance without alarming Mrs. Wilmington."
"He's right, Evan," Sanchez said and reached for his drink.
"Ya sure yer all right with stayin' in town, Ez?" Tanner asked.
"I believe it will be for the best," Standish said. The four men stood up and walked towards the door as the barman ushered out the last two men.
It was nearly two in the morning and the moon was shining over his head when Ethan Turner grumbled about needing a drink and mounted his horse. Without a backwards glance he turned his horse out of town and headed towards the trail that led to the line shack, unaware of the two men waiting in the alley.
Chris shivered as if cold, yet beads of sweat were evident on his forehead and chest. The pillow below his head was soaked with perspiration as the blond head shook back and forth. He mumbled words that sounded as if they were being forced through a throat that had seized up and yet no one was there to hear him. He opened his eyes and tried to moisten his lips, but there didn't seem to be any moisture to be found.
The room he was in was dark, but he tried to focus his eyes and find his captor. He needed something to drink, but there was no one there to help him. Alone in the darkness he reached for the only source of light left to him and a softly whispered name followed him.
"Sarah..."
Buck lay awake in the bed he shared with Angela Tate. They'd returned to their home with Rosemary's insistence and Wilmington knew the woman was not grieving for her husband. Angela had long ago fallen asleep and although he hated her touch he could not chance her anger if he left their bed. He hated what his life had become and even worse hated the feel of her hair against his chest or the soft breath against his shoulder. But this was how he would live until he found a way to get to Chris Larabee and get him the help he needed. Until then he would do what needed to be done and take his vengeance out on Angela and Rosemary when he time was right.
Angela opened her eyes and smiled as she heard the snores emanating from her husband. She knew the sleeping draught she'd slipped him had finally taken over and that he would sleep for several hours. She needed to get out to the line shack, make sure everything was as it should be, ride back here and head into town for Joseph's funeral. Sliding her long legs over the edge, Angela stood up and stretched. She looked at Wilmington and knew she would not be able to keep him much longer, but she would enjoy his prowess in bed for as long as she could.
She quickly dressed and hurried out of the room. Carmon was still sleeping and she would leave without notice and that was just the way she wanted it. She hurried to the stable and saddled the fastest horse she had before leading him outside. She mounted up and dug her heels into the side and smiled as the animal took off. She loved riding free as the wind, but her haste today had little to do with enjoyment. She needed to check on Larabee and Turner, and then get back to the house.
Turner was relieved to see the hitching post was empty and he smiled in spite of the mounting headache. He knew he'd drunk too much and was lucky the sheriff had only ordered him out of town or spend the next few days locked behind bars. He moved into the shack and cursed the foul smell of sickness that greeted him.
"I don't think this is worth it!" he spat as he removed his jacket without realizing the smell was coming from his own body. He threw the jacket aside and hurried to get fresh water and care for the injured man.
"Wait up a minute, Vin," Sanchez warned as the younger man seemed ready to storm the shack.
"Chris could be in there!"
"I know, but there's a rider coming."
"Where?" Tanner asked, hating the way he'd been distracted and been unaware of a rider coming in.
"Coming in just to the south of us," Sanchez explained and pointed to the darker shadow headed towards the line shack.
"Looks like a woman," Tanner observed as she rode within a hundred feet of them. Neither man moved as the woman raced past, but they wondered if things had just gone from bad to worse as she dismounted and hurried into the line shack.
"Maybe we should wait until she leaves."
"What if she's come..."
"Vin, we don't even know for sure Chris is in there."
"Damn it, J'siah, my gut says he is," Tanner said as Turner came out of the shack and grabbed the saddlebags off the woman's horse.
"I trust your gut instincts, Vin, but right now I think we're better off waiting until one of them leaves. We go in there all piss and vinegar there's liable to be shooting and someone's gonna be hurt. Might be best to wait and see because if Chris is in there we got no idea what kind of shape he's in," Sanchez explained as he dismounted and led his horse towards a stand of trees where he waited for the Texan to join him.
Angela cursed as she entered the line shack and the sickly smell of sour vomit and stale liquor assaulted her senses. She saw the fear on Turner's face as her gaze quickly swept the small room.
"Mrs. W...Wilmington, wasn't 'spectin' ya," Turner explained fearfully.
"I can see that! Where the hell have you been?"
"I been here..."
"Then why is your horse soaked with sweat and still saddled and why do you smell like a man who's been drinking and whoring around?"
"I...I just went ta get supplies and had a drink or two while I was there. Man gets thirsty way out here and I needed the stuff ta take care of that bastard!" His head snapped back as she slapped him across the face.
"Don't ever lie to me, Ethan, because you'll pay for it! Now go bring my saddlebags in and make damn sure I have clean water and bandages!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Turner said as he hurried from the shack.
Angela looked at Larabee and knew he needed more help than she could give him, but she was all he had right now. Rosemary would know what to do for the man, but somehow she didn't expect the blond to be with them much longer. They'd have to make sure Wilmington didn't know what kind of tenuous hold his friend had on life right now. She set to work on the wounds as soon as Turner brought her the saddlebags. Once she finished with Larabee she packed up and headed out to her horse and took off back to her ranch.
"Whoever she is she's in a hell of a hurry to get somewhere," Sanchez said as they watched from their vantage point.
"That jest leaves Turner!"
"Have you got a plan?"
"Always got a plan, J'siah," the Texan said with a grin.
"Yeah, I have noticed that. So how do you want to do this?"
"I'm just gonna ride down and say howdy."
"Simple as that?"
"Sometimes simple is the best," Tanner told him and reached for Peso's reins.
"Yeah, I think you're right. Just make sure you have his attention while I get in behind him," Sanchez ordered as the Texan mounted Peso and began to ride towards the shack.
Turner frowned as he finished setting up a pot of coffee. The chewing out he received from Angela Tate left a bitter taste in his mouth and coupled with his sour stomach gave him the disposition of a rabid cougar. He kept glancing from his gun on the table to the man who mumbled incoherently on the small bed.
"Should fuckin' kill ya and ride off, but I need that money!" Turner said and punctuated his word with a fist to Larabee's thigh. The injured man cried out as his body arched on the bed and then dropped back down. He heard the sound of a horse approaching and wondered what the woman had forgotten as he hurried to the door.
"Howdy, Mister, jest wanted ta ask fer a little water."
"Who the hell are ya?" Turner asked as he glanced towards the gun he'd left on the table.
"Just a drifter. Ain't planning on stayin', but could really use a drink."
"Help yerself and get on yer way," Turner said and pointed towards the covered well. He watched the buckskin clad man move toward the well and walked away from the door of the shack in order to keep the man in sight. Too late he heard movement behind him and turned to face a large man in a Serape standing between him and the shack.
"Keep your hands where I can see them!" Sanchez ordered.
"Who the fuck are ya?" Turner asked angrily as he spun back to face the second man.
"Could be we're avenging angels," the ex-preacher whispered as he turned towards the inside of the shack.
"Josiah?"
"Vin, keep that miserable sonofabitch out here!"
"Is it Chris?" the Texan asked worriedly.
"Yes," was all Sanchez said as he hurried inside and over to the bed. The lean gunslinger was battered and bruised and his forehead and chest glistened with perspiration.
"Jesus!" Tanner cursed, shoving the other man roughly into the single chair. He reached for a strip of material that hung across the table and quickly tied Turner's arms behind his back before moving to check on Sanchez and Larabee.
"Chris, Son, can you hear me?" the older man tried as he watched Larabee's knuckles turning white as he gripped the rough-hewn blanket.
"Hey, Cowboy, me and J'siah are here," Tanner explained as a pair of glazed green eyes opened and looked at him. He saw no sign of recognition and knew his friend was locked in some kind of waking nightmare.
"Vin, he don't know who we are right now," Sanchez told the Texan.
"What the fuck did ya do ta him?"
"Wasn't me, Mister. It was Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington. They shot him, but I've been takin' good care of 'im!" Turner lied.
"Like hell! He's burnin' up!" Tanner spat. He watched as Sanchez managed to get the blanket away from the blond and pull it back to reveal two separate bandages and numerous bruises. The bandage covering the thigh showed evidence of fresh bleeding and the big preacher's hands eased back the material.
"Looks like someone hit him here!"
"W...wasn't me!" Turner stammered as cold blue eyes turned on him. He knew the man was dangerous and cringed as the lanky Texan grabbed his collar.
"Ya hit him ya bastard and I'm gonna make sure ya don't fuck with anyone else!"
"Vin, leave him be and go bring in some fresh water!" Sanchez ordered knowing the man needed to keep busy. His relationship with Chris Larabee was that of a brother and it was hard seeing someone you cared about hurting, especially someone you considered family. "Vin, did you hear me?"
"Heard ya, J'siah, this bastard best stay put or I'll tear him apart!" the Texan warned softly, yet there was a deadly intensity that Turner could read easily.
Josiah sat in the chair beside Larabee's bed and reached out to touch the younger man. Larabee's skin was hot to the touch, yet the blond seemed to shiver uncontrollably. He wished Jackson had been able to accompany them, but that was not the case. They would have to get Larabee into town and pray there was a physician in residence.
"Looks like someone tried to help you out, Son, but I wish Nathan was here," Sanchez removed the bloodied bandage and winced at the swollen area surrounding what was evidently a bullet wound. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the Texan standing beside him with a basin of water.
"J'siah, how bad?"
"Bad enough. We need to get him cleaned up and into town. Any chance you could find what you need to make a travois?"
"Think so. Saw a couple of good lengths of wood out by the well. Ya all right here with that bastard?"
"He's not gonna try anything. Faster we get Chris into town the better."
"Does he know we're here?"
"No, right now I don't think he knows anything except that he's hurt," Sanchez explained as he finished removing the bonds that held the blond to the bed. Before he could react, Larabee came off the bed in fever baked delirium and started swinging at the older man. He fought as if his life depended on it and soon had two men holding him down.
"F....fuckin' bas...bastard!" Larabee cried as his strength left him. He heard two voices talking to him and one finally cut through the pain and horror he felt. His eyes became fixated on the buckskin clad form that stood to his left and he felt relief wash over him as another voice cut through the pain.
"Hey, Cowboy, ya with us?"
"V...Vin? Jo...Josiah?" Larabee ground out through clenched teeth as he gripped the older man's hand.
"Easy, Chris, just hold on and we'll make you more comfortable," Sanchez vowed. "Vin, get that travois built!"
"Sure, don't ya go anywhere, Cowboy!"
"N...not g...goin' any...anywhere. Jesus!" Larabee's body grew rigid with pain as he shifted slightly. He didn't see the worry and fear on his friends' faces as they tried to help him.
"I'll be right outside if'n ya need me, J'siah!"
"All right, Vin. I'm going to take a look at his wounds and maybe give him a little laudanum. Make sure that sonofabitch can't get loose!"
Chris heard the two of them talking and closed his eyes in and effort to ride out the waves of agony twisting through his gut. He heard Josiah and Vin talking and drifted towards relieved sleep as he felt Josiah's big hand on his forehead.
Angela smiled inwardly as her husband stood beside her at the graveyard. Rosemary stood on her right, tears flowing freely as Reverend Collins spoke the words from the well-worn bible. She kept glancing at Wilmington; well aware of the anger he was holding inside. Something told her the man knew what had really happened to Joseph Clark, but for now there was nothing he could do about it.
Buck felt his wife watching him and fought to keep the anger and hurt from showing on his face. Most of the townspeople were in attendance and he heard several newcomers behind him. Evan Rawlings was watching him closely, but there was no way he could acknowledge the man with the two women watching him. He turned to his left and had to stop himself from gasping out the name of the man who stood several feet away from him. He fought the urge to look again, but something told him he would really see the gambler dressed in the familiar red coat. If Ezra Standish was there, then so were the others and that meant help was there and it was only a matter of time before they found out where Chris Larabee was being held.
Ezra Standish had maneuvered himself into the crowd of grievers and knew if Wilmington turned in his direction he would spot him immediately. When then dark haired man turned towards him and their eyes locked for a few short seconds, but the conman easily read the hope and relief in his friend's eyes, before Buck's attention returned to the funeral service.
Standish studied the two women standing beside Wilmington and knew these were the two he'd spoken with Rawlings about. There was no real evidence against Clark and Tate, but they would dig until they found whatever evidence was out there.
'Don't worry, Buck, you won't be stuck in this marriage for long,' Standish vowed.
Vin worked at making sure the travois would hold up to the task of bringing Larabee into Midfield. They'd talked about him going for the physician, but it would end up taking longer and if the doctor was not there that was time they'd wasted. At least in town they could get the supplies they needed and there would be ice available to bring down Larabee's fever. He stretched his back, wincing as the muscles ached and he reached for the canteen beside him. He drank his fill and then turned his attention to the conveyance he'd just finished. It was strong and sturdy and there was no doubt in his mind that it would hold up to the job it was meant for. He'd lined it with one of the blankets found inside the line shack and checked the joins once more and secured it to Peso before hurrying into the shack. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the fevered gunslinger.
Larabee's eyes were closed, but Tanner didn't think he was sleeping as he looked at the evidence of pain lining the pale face. He moved to help Sanchez and watched the sea green eyes open and bore into him, imploring him with just a look that Vin could easily read.
"B...Buck?" the blond rasped.
"Ezra's in town keeping an eye on him, Chris. Once we get you to Midfield, we'll make damn sure he's out of danger. Rawlings knows we're here and he'll arrest the two women as soon as we let him know you're safe," Sanchez explained.
"Ya don't need ta worry 'bout any of it, Cowboy. Jest sleep and we'll get ya home," Tanner vowed.
"Home? Four Corners?"
"As soon as the doc says yer ready ta go we'll get ya back to Corners," Tanner assured him.
"Vin, did you get the travois finished?"
"It's ready, J'siah," Tanner told him as Larabee's eyes closed. This time there was no doubt that the blond was either sleeping or unconscious and whichever it was, Tanner prayed he'd stay under until after they reached town.
"Vin, we'll wrap him in the blankets he's lying on and I'll carry him to the horses."
"Peso's stronger than the other two," the Texan told him and saw the head nod once in agreement. Turner would be bound to his own horse and Sanchez would have the reins.
"All right, guess its time to get moving," Sanchez said and tucked the blankets around the lean gunslinger. He stood up and gently reached for the unconscious blond before standing and heading towards the door. He spotted Peso and the travois and gently placed the injured man on it. It didn't take them long to secure Larabee to the makeshift conveyance and Sanchez turned back to the shack. "I'll get Turner!"
"Thanks, J'siah," Tanner said tucking the blanket around the gunslinger and arranging it so the sun would not burn the man's skin during the trip into town.
'Just stay calm, help is here,' Wilmington thought as the grievers dispersed and he walked beside the two women. He knew the plan was to stay at the hotel for the night and he was grateful he hadn't argued with them when it was suggested earlier. He'd seen Standish walk away from the graveside and wished he could get close enough to speak with the conman, but Angela was keeping a tight rein on his movements.
"Buck, you seem awfully withdrawn," the red haired woman stated.
"A man is dead, Angela, would you rather I celebrated like you and Rosemary seemed to be doing last night?"
"Watch what you say, Buck. Just because we're staying in town tonight doesn't mean Chris can't be punished tomorrow morning. There will be a lot of people coming to speak with Rosie and I expect you to act in the appropriate manner."
"That's what I was doing. I thought I was being respectful considering Joseph is dead and his wife is probably behind it." He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew he'd probably overstepped his bounds when anger flared in the green eyes.
"Chris will pay for that comment, Buck."
"Angela, don't..."
"You should have thought of that before you spoke to me like that. Keep it up and I assure you Chris Larabee won't live to see another sunrise."
Buck spotted Standish and prayed the man was not alone as they stepped into the hotel. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the gambler speaking with the sheriff before the two men stepped into the jail.
'God, Ezra, please tell me you're not alone!' he thought as he accompanied the two women up the stairs.
Ezra walked into the jail and took a seat across from the sheriff before speaking. "Buck seems to be under guard this afternoon."
"Yeah, he does. Angela doesn't let him out of her sight and when she's not around Rosemary Clark is there. I wish there was some way to get a message to him."
"Buck Wilmington is a smart man and believe me he knows I'm here. It wouldn't take much for him to realize why I've shown up and hopefully he knows I wouldn't come alone. I'm hoping that Mr. Tanner and Mr. Sanchez return with our missing peacekeeper before the day is over."
"Yeah, that would be good. I'm glad Doc Morton stayed in town today, because I don't think those two would think twice about hurting a hostage to fortune and I think that's exactly what Chris is."
"I believe your jail may soon house two of the most beautiful prisoners to ever break the law," Standish said.
"Wish I could say you're wrong, but I've been trying to find evidence to put them in jail for some time." Rawlings took a deep breath and stood up. "I missed breakfast this morning, Ezra. Care to join me at the saloon?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," Standish agreed and walked to the door.
The trip to Midfield took longer than expected as they stopped several times to take care of Larabee's needs. The blond's body trembled as if cold, yet beads of sweat were evident on his face. The left arm was still strapped to his body and both men knew it was broken and left it immobilized. They managed to get him to drink, but not nearly enough to ease their minds.
Vin kept glancing over his shoulder as the journey continued and darkness soon blanketed the landscape. His worry about spending a night on the trail intensified, as Larabee seemed to grow worse.
"Vin, think that's Midfield up ahead!" Sanchez called as he spotted the signal fires at the center of a cluster of buildings.
"Thank God," Tanner said and unconsciously moved Peso a little faster.
Buck could hear the two women talking as he looked out over the town. The small fires burned in the street and cast a circle of ghostly light upon the buildings. He'd been unable to eat with the threat once more hanging over Larabee's head. Angela's temper continued to rise throughout the day and he knew the blond would suffer for what he'd said. The glass held tightly in his hand contained an amber liquid that he hadn't tasted since pouring it.
Buck took a deep breath and was about to turn away from the window when movement at the edge of the firelight caught his attention. He pressed his left hand against the window as the newcomers rode into view. He recognized the buckskin-clad man riding Peso and the ex-preacher riding his big Bay and smiled inwardly as he realized help had indeed arrived. A small smile formed on his face, but quickly disappeared as he spotted the travois being drawn by Peso.
"Chris," he whispered with a mixture of trepidation and hope as they rode towards the jail.
"Did you say something, Buck?"
"N...no, just thinking," the ladies' man stammered, as he watched Tanner dismount and hurry to check on the injured man. He hurried towards the door and raced down the hall towards the stairs as his wife called his name sharply. He ignored her voice as he raced out the front door of the hotel. "Vin! Josiah!"
"Buck, watch out!" Sanchez shouted as he spotted a woman behind Wilmington. He drew his gun at the same time as the woman fired and prayed she was not as confident or proficient with the weapon as she looked.
Wilmington dove to the right and felt something tear through his shirt at the same time a burning pain in his arm registered. He heard a second shot echo the first and turned to see Rosemary Clark fall to the ground. The woman writhed for several seconds as doors opened and morbidly curious townspeople peered into the street. Rawlings hurried to check on the woman, gun in hand as he kicked the weapon out of her reach.
"She just took a shot at Buck!" Sanchez warned as the lawman touched her throat.
"Is she dead?" someone called from the half opened door of the saloon.
"No, get Doc Morton out here!" Rawlings ordered.
"Sure, Sheriff." Someone yelled and they heard the sound of running feet.
"Where's Angela?" Wilmington asked, standing and holding his bleeding arm as he searched the darkness for the second woman.
"Milt," Rawlings called the owner of the saloon.
"Right here, Sheriff!"
"Keep pressure on this!" Rawlins ordered as the older man knelt and pressed on the wound to Clark's shoulder. The lawman hurried inside the hotel and asked if any of the patrons had seen Angela Wilmington. No one had, but they began searching room by room, but with no success.
Outside the street was awash with activity as Richard Morton arrived with his bag. He knelt beside Rosemary Clark and checked the wound before handing the man a clean piece of material and moving to check on Wilmington.
"I'm fine, Doc," the gentle rogue lied as he motioned the doctor towards the travois.
"Who is this?" Morton asked, all business as he looked at the pale features and the washed out appearance of his face.
"His name's Chris Larabee, Doc. He's a good friend," Wilmington explained as Morton touched Larabee's forehead. "Thanks for f...finding him, Vin, Josiah."
"This man's in bad shape! We need to get him to my office right away. Gerald, bring me as much ice as you can find and I'll need whiskey too!"
"I'll bring it to your house!" Gerald Carlton answered and hurried away.
"Do you two think you can carry him to my place?" Morton asked of the newcomers.
"Just point us in the right direction," Sanchez ordered as they removed the Travois from Peso.
"I'll take care of yer horses!" the liveryman called as he picked up the reins.
"Any sign of her, Evan?" Wilmington asked as the sheriff rejoined them.
"Nothing," the man said and turned to several people who stood close by. "Jake, you and Martin pick Mrs. Clark up and put her in a cell until the doc can look at her."
"Sure thing, Sheriff," Martin agreed as they picked the woman up between them.
"All right, Turner, let's get you inside and locked up!" Rawlings warned as he pulled the man from the horse's back.
"Sheriff, thank God! It wasn't me did that ta him! It was Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington! I tried ta help!"
"I'm sure you did, Turner, but you might as well save it until the judge gets here!" Rawlings warned and escorted the man into the small jail.
"Put him on the bed over there and get rid of them blankets!" Morton ordered as he pulled the table closer to the bed and began preparing the instruments he thought he would need.
Josiah and Vin lifted the unconscious man onto the bed and winced as they took note of the fresh bleeding from both wounds. Larabee hadn't moved since being carried inside and the two men worried that it might be too late. They looked at the ladies' man as he sank into a chair on the opposite side of the bed.
"Jesus, Chris, wish I could've stopped that bitch!"
"Easy, Buck, he's got help now," Sanchez explained, accepting several strips of bandages from the physician and moved to care for Wilmington's arm.
"I'm okay, Josiah," the man mumbled softly.
"No, you're not, Buck. I have no idea what you've been through, but you need to realize whatever happened is not your fault!"
"Yes, this time it is! If I hadn't insisted on coming back here Chris'd be safe back home. Probably drinking whiskey at the saloon!"
"Maybe, but he chose ta come here with ya because he cares what happens ta ya, Buck..."
"B...Buck?"
Wilmington winced at the harsh sounding whisper and leaned close over the injured man as Larabee turned towards him. "Chris, Pard, I'm sorry!"
"D...don't...not f...fault."
"Mr. Larabee, I need you to lie still for me," Morton said as he began removing the bandage from Larabee's left side. He reached for the cloth that soaked in the mixture of water and carbolic and began cleaning the swollen area.
"Doc, anythin' I can do?" Tanner asked.
"Wash your hands and then take the bandage off his leg. I need to see how bad the wounds are!" Morton ordered.
"I can help..."
"Right now you need help, Mr. Wilmington," Morton warned and motioned for Sanchez to move the ladies' man out of the way.
"Don't think that's a real good plan right now, Doc," Sanchez said as he felt the younger man tense beneath his touch.
"All right, he can stay put, but I don't want you doing anything until I get a good look at that arm!"
"I'll see to it, Doc," the ex-preacher assured the physician and received a pale glare from the mustached man.
"Buck...okay?" Larabee asked.
"I'm fine, Chris," Wilmington tried to assure the blond as his friend groaned in pain.
"Chris, I'm going to give you a shot of morphine and then I want you to rest and let me take care of you."
"O...okay," the blond stammered tiredly. He felt the familiar sensation of a needle entering his arm and waited for the blissful release from pain it signaled.
Ezra had seen the newcomer's arrival, but before he could join them he'd noticed movement between the hotel and the building next door. He'd stayed back in the shadows even after hearing the gunshots and knew the shape was that of a woman. He followed until she reached the livery and entered to find her hastily trying to saddle a horse.
"I do not think that a hasty exit is in the cards today, Miss Tate," Standish warned as he released the mechanism that allowed the small gun to rest easily in his hand.
"Who the hell are you?" Tate asked as she sought out the figure bathed in darkness.
"My moniker would not be familiar to you, but suffice it to say I am extremely appalled at your treatment of my friends."
"Friends?"
"Correct. Mr. Larabee and Mr. Wilmington to be precise. Now kindly step away from the horse and place your hands over your head!" Standish warned.
"You have no right!"
"I beg to differ, Miss Tate..."
"My name is Mrs. Angela Wilmington and you have no right to stop me!"
"Wrong, Miss Tate. You gained that name through blackmail amongst other things and therefore you do not deserve the true worth of the Wilmington name. Now, I do not wish to argue further and beside, your incarceration in the Midfield jail is something I wish to witness."
"You won't get away with this!"
"Watch me," the gambler said with a grin as he motioned the woman ahead of him. They stepped into the street to find several people still milling about and Sheriff Rawlings explaining what was happening. He led her towards the gathered throng and smiled as the lawman moved towards them.
"Where did you find her?"
"Miss Tate was about to make a hasty exit, but I persuaded her she should stay and face the consequences of her actions."
"I did nothing wrong," the woman protested and turned to the people she lived amongst. "You all know me and you know I'd never hurt anyone."
"Sorry, Angela, but no one is going to believe that after seeing Chris Larabee."
"Buck's friend? You found him?" Tate asked as if she truly cared about the man's welfare.
"Yes, Buck's friends are here and they followed Turner..."
"I'll kill that sonofabitch!" she cursed and realized she'd spoken aloud.
"Sheriff, I'd like to check on Mr. Larabee's condition," Standish said in disgust.
"You go ahead, Ezra. I'll lock this one up and she can take care of her friend while she's in there," Rawlings explained.
"What happened to Rosie?" Tate asked worriedly.
"She was shot while trying to make you a widow. Ezra, doc's house is at the end of town," Rawlings said as he grabbed the woman's arm and dragged her towards the jail.
Ezra turned away and headed towards the house in question as people mulled about still trying to make sense of what had happened. He pushed open the gate and hurried up to the partially open door.
"Hello."
"Ezra, we're in here!" Tanner called and nodded to the gambler as he entered.
"Mr. Wilmington, I wished to inform you of Angela Tate's incarceration."
"You found her?" Wilmington asked, watching as the physician finished draining bloodied discharge from Larabee's side.
"Indeed. She was trying to leave, but I followed her and turned her over to Sheriff Rawlings," Standish explained.
"Thank God," the gentle rogue said and sagged as the laudanum laced drink he'd been given worked its magic and he lost consciousness.
"About time. Put him in the bed by the window!" Morton ordered. He watched as Sanchez and Standish lifted the big man between them and carried him to the bed. Shaking his head at the stubbornness exhibited by the injured man and wondered at the bond of friendship he was witnessing.
"Doc, will he be all right?" Tanner asked.
"He'll be fine. Josiah cleaned the wound and I'll take a closer look as soon as I finish with Chris," the physician answered.
"What about Chris?" the Texan asked.
"I'll do all I can for him, but you need to know he's in bad shape. Aside from the bullet wounds he has a broken arm and more bruises than I can count. I know he's had one blow to the head and God only knows what kind of damage that caused."
"Chris is just as stubborn as Buck," Sanchez observed as he straightened the blanket over the mustached man.
"Then he's got that going for him." Morton finished placing a new bandage over Larabee's side and turned his attention to the wound in his right thigh. Again he drained and cleaned the wound before placing a new bandage over it.
"What about his fever?" Tanner asked.
"Gerald should be here anytime with the ice!" Morton answered. "We'll also keep wiping him down and hopefully keeping his wounds clean will also help bring the fever down. I'll need all of you to help make sure he's kept cool and make sure he's drinking when he does wake up. I'll have several different teas brewing and they'll help with pain and fever! I'll also talk with Miss Collins about making broth for him."
"Thanks, Doc," Sanchez said as the door opened and several men walked in carrying buckets.
"Figured ya'd need this stuff chipped off," Carlton said as he placed a bucket beside the bed.
"Thanks, Gerald, this is perfect. Vin, Josiah, I need you two to start putting some ice in the towels and pack them around Chris. Ezra, bring me a basin of clean water while I check on Buck!"
"Certainly, doctor," Standish said and hurried to carry out the physician's orders.
Morton removed the bandage from Wilmington's arm and winced at the raw wound underneath. It would take several stitches to close it and the man would need a sling for a few days, but he should regain total use of his arm if he took care of it. He turned to see Sanchez and Tanner placing the towels around Larabee's body and hoped this action would help bring down the fever.
Through the long night the men continued to care for the injured men, changing the towels and putting fresh ice in them as Larabee's fever raged. Wilmington continued to sleep through the activity as the draught he'd been given continued to hold him in a deep sleep. Morton had retired for the night once he knew the three men would care for their friends.
Josiah knew they had to get a message back to Four Corners and let Nathan and JD know what was happening. He turned towards the door as it opened and the sheriff entered the room.
"How are they?" Rawlings asked.
"Buck's still sleeping, but he should be waking up anytime," the ex-preacher answered.
"Chris?"
"No change. Fever's still sappin' his strength!" Tanner answered from where he sat beside the injured blond.
"I had Lottie at the hotel contact Judge Travis about the prisoners. Told her one of you boys might be over later to send a message to Four Corners," the sheriff explained.
"Thanks, Evan," Sanchez said.
"You boys should hear Turner."
"What's he up ta?" the Texan asked.
"He's tellin' everyone what those two did and says he's willing to tell the Judge as soon as he gets here."
"When will Travis get here?"
"He's in Eagle Bend this week so I'm expecting him to get back to me later today. Hopefully he'll be able to clear his slate and get here by the end of the week or beginning of next. I'd rather get this over with as quickly as possible."
"Sounds like a plan," the ex-preacher told him as a sound escaped from the blond.
"Easy, Cowboy, just lie still," Tanner warned as he held the blond's hand. Even with the ice the fever still had a tight grip on the injured man.
"H...hap...happened?"
"You got yerself hurt, but doc says ya'll be fine if'n we can keep ya drinkin'," the Texan explained.
"H...horse p...piss," Larabee groaned.
"Pro'bly," Tanner said with a grin as Richard Morton entered the room.
"Well, it's good to see you awake, Chris. How are you feeling?"
"Hot...cold...not sure," the blond answered tiredly.
"That's probably because of the fever and the ice. Vin, did you get him something to drink?"
"Josiah's getting it now," Tanner said as the ex-preacher returned to the bed.
"Bring him some water too," the physician ordered as the Texan lifted Larabee's head and he fed him the Willow Bark tea. They managed to get the patient to drink most of the tea and some of the broth sent over by Martha Collins.
Chris knew they were trying to help him, but he was in too much pain to acknowledge them for now. He felt himself losing touch with reality as he sipped the small amount of water in the cup. Energy spent, Chris closed his eyes and slept once more.
Josiah straightened his back as he made his way towards the hotel. He needed to send a telegram to Four Corners and let Nathan and JD know what was happening. Buck was still sleeping, due to exhaustion more than anything else. Chris had awakened several times during the long night, but never seemed to be fully with them. He pushed open the door and spotted a matronly woman standing behind the desk.
"Miss Lottie?"
"That would be me. Is there something I can help you with?"
"I'd like to send a telegram to Four Corners," Sanchez answered.
"Very well. What do you want it to say?"
"Chris and Buck found. Chris hurt bad. Town doc says he should be okay. Sanchez."
"Very good. I'll send it now and let you know when I hear back from them," Lottie told him.
"Thank you, Ma'am," the ex-preacher said, tipping his hat before heading back towards the physician's residence. He nodded to several townspeople that he recognized and answered their queries about Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee. As he pushed open the doctor's door he heard the familiar voice of their resident ladies' man.
"Vin, I said I'm fine!"
"Doc says ya need ta rest!"
"I will..."
"Good, glad that's settled!"
"No, it's not! Damn it!"
"Is there a problem?" Sanchez asked as he looked at the two men.
"No!"
"Yes," Tanner corrected.
"What's wrong?"
"Mr. Wilmington wishes to pay a visit to the woman who claims to be his beloved wife, while Mr. Tanner insists that he should wait!" Ezra explained from his position next to Larabee's bed. He was leaning back on the chair with his legs stretched out and resting on the windowsill. A soft breeze wafted through the partially open window and he smiled at the newcomer.
"Buck, you sure you're up to seeing Angela?" Sanchez asked.
"I'm sure, Josiah. I need to do this!"
"All right, but I'll come along and make sure..."
"I don't need protection!"
"I know you don't, but can you guarantee that you won't strangle her if you get the chance?" the older man asked.
"No...no I can't," Wilmington told them as he ran his fingers through disheveled hair. He turned his gaze on the unconscious gunslinger and marked in his mind each and every wound on the man's body. If given the chance he knew he could easily strangle the woman who had professed to love him and would die a happy man having done so.
"I guess that mean you need an escort," Sanchez said and saw the quick nod of the dark head. He watched as Wilmington made his way to Larabee's bed and placed his hand on the blonds' right shoulder. The heat he felt emanating from the injured man scared him and he knew they would continue to pack the ice around him in an effort to get the fever under control. "Hang on, Pard, 'cause I ain't gonna let her away with what they did to you."
Sanchez heard the softly spoken vow and waited for the gentle rogue to join him. Together they walked out of the doctor's office and down the street to the jail. The sun had gone behind a cloud, but the heat was still rising with the approach of noon. He pushed open the door and allowed Wilmington to enter before him and nodded a greeting to the sheriff.
"How are you feeling, Buck?" Rawlings asked.
"Better. Came to see Angela."
"Are you sure about that, Buck?" Rawlings asked and knew his long time friend was indeed serious about going to see his wife.
"Yeah, I need to make sure she knows how much I ha...hate her," the ladies' man spat venomously.
"I'll stay with him, Evan," Sanchez assured the lawman.
"All right," Rawlings agreed and threw the keys to the older man. He watched as Wilmington waited anxiously for the door to open and knew his friend was tormented by what had happened.
Buck slipped inside before the door was fully open and locked gazes with the woman who was legally his wife. He walked the short distance to the bars and stood for several long seconds before finally speaking to her.
"I thought I knew you, Angela."
"You did, Buck. I love you."
"Love? No, I don't think you even know the meaning of the word."
"How can you say that, Buck? Didn't you feel anything when I touched you? When I kissed you?"
"Yes, I did. I felt dead, Angela! You made me betray who I am and your kiss was a kiss of death. It killed everything I ever felt for you!"
"Buck, please, I did it for you...for us..."
"There is no us...never was, Angela. You killed it..."
"NO! Don't you say that! I love you, Buck!"
"Funny way of showing it," Wilmington said as Rosemary Clark opened her eyes and stared at him.
"She isn't to blame, Buck. She loves you more than you'll ever know and this is how you repay her!"
"Oh, Lady, you ain't seen nothing yet!" Wilmington vowed as he grabbed the bars. "I'm going to watch the two of you hang for murder and attempted murder!"
"You can't prove anything!" Angela screamed.
"I can prove what I saw you do and that you ordered Turner to break Chris's arm and guess what? Turner will back me up on that!"
"Turner's a weasel!" Clark spat.
"That may be, but with mine and Chris's testimony neither one of you will be able to talk your way out of it! Judge Travis should be here sometime next week and I'm going to stand there and watch them take you away!" Wilmington smiled as he glanced from one woman to the other.
"You bastard, Buck!" Angela cried as she ran at the bars and reached through them before the man could react.
Wilmington felt her nails rake across his cheek and grabbed her wrists in a vice like grip. He smiled and used her hand to wipe away the blood and then shoved her roughly backwards. She stumbled and would have fallen if not for Rosemary Clark's quick reaction. He smiled, but there was no humor in it as he stared at the two women.
"You reap what you sow, Angela," Wilmington said and turned away from the women. "Let's go, Josiah. The smell in here is turning my stomach."
"As you wish, Buck," Sanchez said, holding the door and closing it behind them as Angela Tate screamed in outrage.
"Everything okay?" Rawlings asked as Sanchez threw the keys to him.
"Everything's just fucking fine!" Wilmington spat. "Josiah, I need a drink!"
"Come on, Buck, I'll buy you a steak dinner and you can buy me a drink!" Sanchez nodded to the sheriff before following the ladies' man through the door. A stiff breeze had picked up, but it did little to dispel the heat of the day.
"JD, I have a telegram for you from Josiah," Gloria Potter called after the young sheriff. She handed him the slip of paper and watched as he read it.
"Thanks, Mrs. Potter. I need to show this to Nathan. Have you seen him around?"
"I saw him go up to his clinic a few minutes ago," the older woman answered and watched as the young man raced toward the livery.
Nathan heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs and opened the door just as the whirlwind known as JD Dunne stepped onto the landing. He smiled at the youth, but quickly read the worry in his eyes as the younger man handed him a piece of paper.
Chris and Buck found. Chris hurt bad. Town doc says he should be okay. Sanchez.
"Damn, I should have gone with them."
"You were needed here, Nate," Dunne said, smiling as he remembered the sound of a baby's first cry. The birth hadn't been difficult, but the woman seemed more relaxed knowing Jackson was on hand.
"Thanks, JD, still don't make it no easier."
"I know, but at least there's a doctor in Midfield!"
"Yeah, that's one piece of good news."
"Are you going out to see Rain today?"
"I was thinkin' on it, but..."
"There's nothing you can do, Nate. I'll send someone out to the village if you're needed or there's more news," Dunne assured the healer. He knew the man would worry about Larabee no matter what, but at least this way he would have something to occupy his time.
"Thanks, JD, think I might just take ya up on that. Besides I need to check Rain's cousin and make sure her arm is healing properly," Jackson said and turned his attention to the trip ahead of him.
The next few days passed slowly as the friends tried to stave off the fever sapping the blond's strength. Chris would wake up and at times seemed lucid and awake, while at other times he'd fight those who tried to help him. He screamed for his deceased family and cursed Ella Gaines to her grave and beyond as his body arched on the bed. He languished in the throes of nightmares that only he could see until the sun rose above the horizon on the forth day since he'd been found. Sea green eyes opened and looked into the worried blue ones set in the face of his long time friend.
"Chris?" Wilmington whispered the word hopefully.
"Buck? Hap...happened?"
"Is he awake, Buck?"
"Sure is, Vin. Get the doc!"
"Hey, Cowboy, I'll be right back."
"Not a cow...boy," the blond rasped as Wilmington lifted his head and allowed him to take several small sips of water.
"How are you feeling, Chris?" the ladies' man asked with a tired grin.
"Don't know. Sick...hurts to move."
"I bet it does. Try not to move around too much right now," Wilmington ordered as he lowered the sweat soaked blond head back to the bed. He stared into the eyes he knew so well and saw the true depth of the man's pain. "I'm sorry, Chris."
"G...get that l...look off your face, Buck. N...none of this is your f...fault."
"Yes, it is, Chris, but I swear they'll pay for what they've done. So help me God I'll see to it myself if I have to!"
"N...no. Pro...promise me won't d...do anything s...stupid!"
"I can't promise you that right now, Chris. Ask me again after the trial," Wilmington said softly.
"P...please, Buck, N...need to know y...you'll be there..."
"I c...can't. Not now," the gentle rogue told him as the door opened and several people entered the room.
"I hear my patient is awake," Morton said and took the chair vacated by Buck Wilmington. "Good morning, Chris."
"Who...you?" Larabee frowned as he looked at the newcomer.
"My name is Richard Morton and I'm what passes for a doctor in these parts. Now I'm going to take a look at you and then see about getting you some broth. How are you feeling?"
"Hopefully not as bad as they look," Larabee said and motioned with his head towards his friends.
"Well they come by it honestly," Morton said, taking out his stethoscope and listening to his patient's chest. "They've spent every waking moment sitting with you. Take a deep breath!"
"Damn!" the blond cursed as he coughed harshly.
"Here, drink this!" Morton ordered and held Larabee's head while Wilmington fed him the water.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. Your chest doesn't sound clear right now, but that's to be expected with you lying around like this. As soon as you're up to it we'll see about getting you out of that bed and sitting up in a chair for a spell."
"Ready...up now," the blond tried, but the soft laughter told him that was not to be the case as yet.
"I don't think so, Son. It'll be at least another full day before we even attempt to get you up!" Morton warned.
Chris smiled in spite of the renewed pain in his side and leg as the physician continued with his examination. He drank what they gave him and knew one of the liquids had been laced with laudanum as his eyelids grew heavy and he drifted toward sleep.
"How is he, Doc?" Tanner asked.
"His fever's broke, but that doesn't mean he's out of the woods yet," Morton explained as he turned to face Larabee's friends. "He needs to take it easy and give his body the time it needs to heal!"
"Chris ain't one ta be patient," the Texan observed.
"Don't expect he is, but you boys are gonna need to make sure he does as he's told!"
"Damn, give us something easy why don't you?" Wilmington asked and heard the others chuckle.
"Buck, we'll sit on him if we have to," Sanchez said.
"Just make sure you don't sit anywhere that he's hurt!" Morton warned.
"Damn, guess that don't leave much!" Tanner said seriously as he looked at the sleeping man. The colorful array of bruises had spread and covered much of the surface area until Larabee looked as if he'd been put through hell and Vin took a deep breath as he realized that was as close to the truth as anything.
"Like I told you boys his fever has broken, now comes the real chore of getting him back on his feet," Morton explained.
"We'll do whatever it takes, Doc," Wilmington assured him.
"Good. First thing you have to do, Buck, is put that damn sling back on and quit acting like there's nothing wrong with you! I may not know you very well, but I'm sure your friends here know when you're hiding something. Now quit acting like you're a hundred percent and get some rest or I'll just slip you a little something to make sure you do!" the physician promised.
"Mr. Wilmington, I do believe he sees right through your valiant charade," Standish said, smiling as he pointed to the little used bed at the opposite side of the room.
"I'm not tired," the ladies' man said.
"That so? Then perhaps you wouldn't mind letting one of your friends force you into bed. I don't think it would take much right now. What do you boys think?"
"A soft breeze would probably do the trick," Tanner observed and watched as the defeated ladies' man made his way to the bed and sank down onto the mattress with a heavy sigh.
"Well, Hallelujah!" Sanchez said and earned himself a baleful glare from the injured man.
"Now, Gentlemen, I want you all to get some rest. If Chris is anything like the rest of you I may just have to take you up on the idea of sitting on him," Morton said as he finished his examination and sat back.
"You heard him, Boys. Ezra, I believe you have the funds to procure our next feast," Sanchez said with a toothy grin.
"Why is it whenever we are in search of a repast I seem to be the only one with funds available?"
"Well, Son, it's probably because the good lord saw fit to bless you with quick hands and the ability to know who you're playing against," the ex-preacher observed.
"Yes, that is true, but..."
"Come on, Ez. We don't get movin' and ya'll have ta cheat some more in order ta pay for it," Tanner said.
"I do not need to cheat in order to win!" Standish stated as they exited the room.
Morton shook his head at the antics of the trio who'd just left. He turned toward the man lying in the other bed and saw that he was up on his elbow and watching the sleeping blond. The guilt on the rogue's face was evident as the blue eyes sparkled with unshed moisture.
"Doc, he is going to be all right, isn't he?"
"As long as we keep him from doing anything stupid he'll do fine. That goes for you as well, Buck. I've been watching you and I know you're not sleeping, so, I am going to get Martha Collins to mix one of her herb teas. I think once you drink that you'll find it easier to sleep and once you wake up I might even let you sit with Chris for a while."
"Okay," the ladies' mans easily agreed and laid back against the pillow.
Morton looked from one man to the other and was again taken aback by the depth of friendship these men felt for each other. Touching his hand against Larabee's cheek he was relieved to find it cool to the touch.
"You're one lucky man, Chris Larabee," he whispered and used the cloth to wash over the man's face before standing and stretching the kinks from his back.
Angela Tate-Wilmington grew angrier with each passing minute. Rosemary Clark was fairly well recovered from the minor wound she'd received and at present was sleeping on one of the small cots. The red head stared at the man sleeping on the cot in the next cell and silently cursed the traitorous sonofabitch. No matter how much she threatened him, no matter how many ways Rosemary told him they could chop him into little pieces, Ethan Turner refused to listen.
"Don't worry, Angela, things will work out," Rosemary had assured her more than once in the last week, but as she heard the approach of the stage she knew things were about to get worse. She moved to the side of the jail and tried to see out into the dusty alley, but even on her toes she could not reach the bottom of the window.
"Damn it!" she cursed and sat spitefully on her cot as she awaited word on her fate.
Orrin Travis was hot and tired and was glad he'd been the only passenger since leaving Eagle Bend. He'd been thinking about the last telegram he'd received from Sheriff Evan Rawlings and was worried about one of his peacekeepers.
According to the message, Chris Larabee had been shot twice, had a broken arm and several bruised or cracked ribs, plus several stitches to a wound above his right eye. Travis hated that one of the men he'd hired and respected had been seriously injured, but his distaste grew as soon as he'd read that two of the three people charged were women. It would be hard to get a conviction because men seemed to shy away from the idea of hanging a woman, but if everything he heard was true they deserved to be strung up from the nearest branch. As the Stage drew to a stop in front of the hotel, Travis leaned out the window and quickly spotted several familiar figures. He quickly stepped down and waited for his bag, not at all surprised when the lanky Texan grabbed the piece of luggage and carried it toward the hotel.
"How is Chris?" the judge asked.
"He seems better today. Dr. Morton says if he continues to improve he might just let him sit a spell tomorrow," Sanchez explained.
"As long as he doesn't overdo things," Travis said. "I'd like to see him as soon as I'm checked in."
"I would be honored to take care of registering you, Judge Travis," Standish said.
"Thank you, Ezra. Tell Lottie I said to put it on my tab," Travis told the gambler and headed towards the physician's house at the edge of town. He'd been there several times in the past, taking statements and getting the full story on a supposed crime. He knocked on the door and hurried inside when a male voice bid him enter. "How is he, Richard?"
Chris had been resting his eyes, but opened them at the familiar voice. "Hello, Judge."
"Hello, Chris, I hope you're not giving Dr. Morton any problems."
"He's being real good, Judge," Wilmington said from his seat at the small table.
"Shut up, Buck," the blond groaned. "How are Billy and Mary doing?"
"Billy is doing very well in school and is excited that his mother is staying with Evie for a month. He's really come out of his shell since his father's killers were brought to justice."
"He's a good kid. Didn't deserve what happened to him."
"You saved his life, Chris, and I'm forever in your debt. That goes for all of you," Travis said. "Now, how do you feel about telling me what happened?"
"I..."
"Orrin, does this have to be done right now?" Morton interrupted.
"The sooner the better, Richard. I'd like to know where we stand on all issues. We all know how hard it is to see someone hung and it's especially hard when it comes to a woman...two women," Travis said.
"That may very well be, but right now Chris needs his rest. When are you setting the trial for?"
"Tomorrow morning if Gerald will allow us use of his saloon," Travis answered.
"I don't think Gerald will stop you from using his place. Now why don't you and I go speak with him and let my patient get the rest he needs?" Morton suggested.
"All right," the judge said and turned to Larabee. "Chris, get some rest. I'll speak with you before the trial starts tomorrow."
"I want to be there!" the blond stated, shocking everyone present.
"Chris, you can't be serious!" Wilmington stated.
"I'm sorry, Chris, but I don't think you're strong enough to be out of bed that long!"
"I need to be there! Need to make damn sure they don't get away with any of this. Did anyone telegram St. Louis to see if their stories were true?"
"Evan sent out several telegrams yesterday, but there's been no answer yet," Wilmington explained.
"Chris, I'm not gonna say yes to you being there tomorrow, but I'm not saying no either. If, and this is a big if, you get plenty of rest tonight and there's no sign of fever in the morning, then maybe we can arrange for you to be present during the trial. However, there is something I want from you."
"Anything, Doc," Larabee stated tiredly.
"I want your promise that when I say you've had enough then you'll come back here without an argument. Got that?'
"I got it," the blond said with a small grin and a heavy sigh as he turned towards his long time friend. "I just need to make sure they can't hurt you anymore, Buck."
"Hell, Chris, wasn't me they hurt," Wilmington stated.
"Look in the mirror and say that, Buck. A blind man could see the pain in your eyes."
"Chris..."
"No Buck, don't say it. Just know this and mark my words. You have nothing to feel guilty about and I'll damn well kick your ass if you don't smarten up!"
"He's right, Brother, you did nothing to be ashamed of," Sanchez assured him.
"Buck, may not kick...kick your ass right n...now, but will soon," the blond said and gave in to the siren call of sleep.
Orrin looked at the two women, both so beautiful, yet as deadly as a rabid wolf searching for prey. The two women refused to acknowledge his presence, but Ethan Turner was more than willing to share details about what they'd paid him to do. He swore he had nothing to do with any murders, but was guilty of kidnapping and forcible confinement with intent to injure. Gerald Carlton had readily agreed to have the trial held at the saloon and with the help of several townsmen, plus Sanchez, Tanner, and Standish was already setting it up for the trial.
"Mrs. Clark, you do realize these charges are very serious?" Travis asked, and was again met by a wall of silence. Shaking his head he turned away from the cell and walked out into the sheriff's office once more.
"They still on a vow of silence?" Rawlings asked.
"I don't think they realize just how much trouble they are in," Travis said, shaking his head as he sat across from the lawman.
"They know and I think they just might be able to wrap some of the men in this town around their fingers. No matter what happens tomorrow there are at least four men who will be dead set against hanging women!"
"You may want to deputize a few men or use Josiah, Ezra, and Vin to help control the hot heads," the judge suggested.
"I'd be grateful for all the help I can get," Rawlings said as the door burst open and a man walked inside.
"Sheriff, tell me you're not going to let this farce of a trial happen!"
"Judge, do you remember our mayor," Rawlings asked.
"Indeed I do. Hello, John."
"Hello, Orrin. Please tell me you won't be holding a trial in Midfield."
"I'm sorry, but I will be holding a trial and I believe it to be in the best interests of the town if you show the court the respect it is due."
"But you're talking about putting two women on trial for attempted murder..."
"Actually, after the telegram I received today they'll be facing charges of murder as well," Rawlings explained.
"You know, John, there's something wrong with your attitude," Travis said, his voice laced with deadly force.
"What are you talking about, Orrin?"
"Are you forgetting there's a man on trial here for the same charges, and yet you don't give a damn about what he's facing!"
"But...but they are women and have been a good part of this town since they moved here!" the mayor fumed.
"That may very well be, but think about what they've done and if that's not enough then come over to Morton's office and take a good look at what they did to Chris Larabee!" Travis raged.
"He's a lawman and should be used to getting hurt in situations like this!"
"John, Chris Larabee was shot twice and had his arm broken because those two women thought they could control another man's life. He deserves to see justice done!"
"Not in my town!"
"Then perhaps it's time you stood down and let us elect a man with a lick of sense!" Rawlings stated and stood up.
"Easy, Evan," Travis said and turned to the town's mayor. "John, I am sworn to uphold the law and that means the trial will go forth tomorrow. If you don't like it then I suggest you take a trip for a few days. Perhaps your twisted judgment will find a way to live with what you've been saying here!"
"You can't talk to me like that!"
"I just did! Evan, it stinks in here and I need to get some rest before the trial tomorrow morning!"
"Orrin, I apologize for the mayor's behavior," Rawlings said and smiled as the man huffed and shot out the door. He shook his head and watched as Travis followed suit and was glad the judge had been able to get the upper hand with the town's mayor.
The saloon was packed with men waiting to find out the outcome of the trial, but the three defendants had yet to make an appearance. Several of the older men were trying to cajole Gerald Carlton into opening the bar and let them have a libation, but with no success as the saloon owner shook his head and pointed to the sign proclaiming BAR CLOSED FOR DURATION!
"So when's this trial supposed ta start," Peter Frost asked, licking dry lips hopefully.
"Soon's the judge says it does!" Carlton assured him and motioned for one of the lawmen to come forward.
"What can I do fer ya?" Tanner asked, leaning against the bar.
"The crowd's getting a little out of hand. Any idea when the judge is gonna get here?"
"Should be here as soon as they bring Chris over," the lanky Texan answered.
"Well, I hope it's soon!" Frost told him and watched as several men began a shoving match at the rear of the saloon.
"Ya boys wanna stick 'round ya'd best sit down and shut up!" Tanner warned and nodded as Standish joined him.
"Josiah and Buck are bringing Chris over now," Standish informed the younger man.
"Good, 'cause much longer and we might have ta shoot a couple of trouble makers," the Texan said and saw Frost break away from the counter, a look of fearful indignation on his face.
"Now, Chris, no one will think anything bad of you if you just stay put!" Wilmington tried once more. They'd managed to get the stubborn blond into a pair of pants by slitting up the seam and making room for the bandages around his leg. An oversized shirt was draped over his shoulders and buttoned up the front. There was a new light in the gunslinger's eyes today since they'd found Pony safe and sound and he was now housed in the livery, and being fed and cared for by the liveryman.
"I'm going!"
"Stubborn sonofabitch!" the ladies' man cursed as Sanchez returned.
"I take it you're still hell bent on going to the trial?" the ex-preacher asked.
"Hell yeah!" Larabee answered and knew the doctor was still shaking his head as he returned to his position next to the bed where his patient sat.
"All right, Chris, I'm agreeing to this against my better judgment, so here's how we're going to do this. Buck and Josiah are going to walk beside you and if I see anything I don't like I'm calling a halt to it. Understood?"
"I hear you, Doc," Larabee said, glaring at his two friends.
"Good!" Morton said, giving his patient another once over before turning to Wilmington and Sanchez. "All right, gentlemen, here's how this goes. Buck, you're on his right, Josiah, you're on his left. I'm going to walk behind Chris and make sure 'Mr. Hard Head' here doesn't fall on his hard..."
"Shit!" the blond spat as he tried to stand on his own.
"That's lesson number one, Chris. You're weak and you need to let us help you with everything for now," Morton warned as Sanchez and Wilmington moved in to help the injured blond to his feet.
"Thanks," Larabee said as the ladies' man plunked his hat on his head. He concentrated on staying on his feet and forced his legs to move, groaning as the movement pulled on his injured leg.
"Ah, Chris, take this," Morton said, handing the man a cane.
"I don't..."
"If you plan on walking to the trial you do, or Josiah and Buck can carry you!" the physician warned.
"Damn!" Larabee swore and reached for the item in Morton's hand. He used it and reluctantly acknowledged the need for the cane. Using what little strength he had the gunman slowly made his way toward the door. He felt his two friends walking close beside him, but everything he had, and everything he was, he was putting into this one trip. He would make it to the saloon under his own steam or die trying.
Buck watched as Larabee's stubborn pride worked to give him the strength he needed to persevere and smiled inwardly at the strength generated by the blond. No matter how beaten he was, no matter how hard the fight could be, in the end, Chris Larabee would win. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to and that was a strength few men had.
Josiah watched over both friends and knew Wilmington was putting on a brave face. The man was hiding a pain that ran deep and a guilt that was just as fierce. It would take seeing Chris Larabee completely recovered and back on his feet to see the light hearted rogue back to himself. Sighing, the ex-preacher remained steadfast next to the blond and could see how difficult each step was.
Richard Morton could not believe that his patient had made it out the door let alone half way down the street. Something told him that Chris Larabee would and could do just about anything he set his mind to do. They made it to the saloon, but not without incident as Larabee stumbled several times, but refused help as he straightened himself with the use of the cane.
Chris looked at the two steps that lead up to the batwing doors and took a deep breath. He could hear the people inside and knew the saloon had probably never been so packed during regular hours. People had this morbid need to see what was happening and he knew they would probably have to deal with several troublemakers. The fact that the trial involved two women made it more like a circus than a courtroom, but Chris knew Orrin Travis would make sure things ran smoothly no matter what it took.
"Chris..."
"I'm okay, Buck," Larabee insisted and found the strength to lift his right leg and put all his weight on the cane. He heard Ezra and Vin, but didn't acknowledge either man as he made it to the top.
"Mr. Larabee, your color...or lack thereof is suggestive..."
"Ez, not now! Tell me you boys have a place for me to sit down!"
"Got a seat front and center fer ya, Cowboy," Tanner told him and held the door as the group moved into the dim interior. Between the four peacekeepers they managed to keep the town's men at a distance and give Larabee a clear aisle to the chair reserved for him. By the time the blond was seated he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and his face had a washed out quality to it. He didn't know who it was, but someone handed him a glass of water and he drank it slowly.
"Chris, the judge is about to come in and Evan is bringing over the prisoners," Sanchez explained as he watched the younger man's face closely.
"Okay," Larabee nodded as the men took up places around the courtroom. Besides, Sanchez, Standish, Wilmington, Tanner, and Rawlings there were four other men who'd been sworn in to help keep the trial orderly.
"Chris, you need anything don't hesitate to say so," Morton said as he sat beside his patient.
"But they're women!" one man shouted and the outrage was picked up by others as Travis took his seat.
"Order! I will have order in this court or I'll have you all barred from the proceedings!" the judge warned and the crowd grew quiet as Rawlings and Tanner led the three prisoners to the defendants' table. Mark Lewis stood as the trio were brought to him and knew his case was lost before it even began. Ethan Turner was only too glad to make his statement and the evidence against the women was damning.
"This court is now in session and I'm warning all of you that any transgressions will get you a contempt charge and you'll find yourselves as guests in the town's jail. Now the defendants are facing several charges of kidnapping, assault and attempted murder. How do your clients plea, Mr. Lewis?"
"Your honor, Mrs. Clark, and Mrs. Wilmington have refused to answer that question. Mr. Turner has pleaded guilty to kidnapping and assault," Lewis explained.
"All right, we can resolve Mr. Turner's case easily and proceed with the charges against Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington," Travis said as he watched Chris Larabee closely. The injured man was listing slowly to the right and was soon propped up by Buck Wilmington. He quickly pronounced Turner's sentence and had him removed from the courtroom until such time when he would be needed for testimony.
"Chris, why don't we get you back to bed," Morton suggested, but saw the stubborn set of Larabee's jaw.
"I'm f...fine, Doc, need to be h...here!"
"No you don't, Pard, I can testify to what they did to you," Wilmington tried.
"Buck, I want to see this through...for me," the blond said, but knew the ladies' man could see right through him.
"All right, ol' son," Wilmington agreed softly and looked toward the judge once more as he finished calling him to the stand. It had been decided that the ladies would have a bench trial without a jury and it would be up to Travis whether or not the women were guilty or innocent and whether they would face further charges once they heard from St. Louis. Buck nodded to the blond and walked to the front of the saloon and took the witness stand where he was sworn in.
"Mr. Wilmington, do you swear to tell the..."
Buck's eyes locked on to the green ones he once thought he could lose himself in. Now all he felt was disgust, that this woman had hurt not only him, but also a man he had considered to be his best friend for many years.
"Yes," the rogue answered as he tore his gaze from the woman.
Angela Tate-Wilmington could not believe that this man was going to bring her down. There was no doubt that his words would see Rosemary Clark found guilty and she turned in her seat until she spotted Chris Larabee. He would also testify to her wrongdoings and see her either faced with a life in prison or the hangman's noose.
'I'll kill you first,' she thought as she glanced at the two men closest to her. She recognized them from the town and knew them to be honest and law abiding, which was probably why Rawlings had chosen them. She heard her husband testify as to what he'd seen and been forced to do in order to save Chris Larabee's life and knew she had to see her plans through to the end, Larabee's end. Turning toward the man closest to her she judged the distance and knew she could get the man's gun, but could she get a shot away before someone reached her.
"Angela, what are you thinking?" Rosemary Clark asked softly.
"He's going to pay for this!"
"Who?" Clark whispered and frowned as their lawyer continued to ask questions of Wilmington.
"Larabee! Just look at that bastard!"
"What are you going to do?"
"I need you to get their attention, but wait until Larabee is called to the witness stand," the red head said and knew Clark understood what she meant. As the lawyer continued his questioning of Buck Wilmington, most of the men's attention was focused on the witness stand and they were not watching her.
"You know this will go against us?"
"I know, but what difference will it make?" She saw the smile on Clark's face and knew the woman would do what was needed. She settled back in her chair and smiled sweetly at the ladies' man.
Chris had not missed the woman's backward glance at him, and wondered why he suddenly felt so damn cold. He shifted on the seat as Travis dismissed Wilmington from the stand.
"Mr. Larabee, are you able to take the stand at this time?" Travis asked.
"Chris, it can wait," Tanner stated.
"No, it can't. Faster them two are sentenced the better," Larabee stated and sat up straighter in the chair.
"Mr. Larabee?"
"I'm fine, Judge," the blond said, but was glad when the Texan offered his arm and helped him to his feet.
Angela smiled as Larabee stood on shaky legs and began the slow walk towards the chair reserved for witnesses. She nodded to Clark as the blond walked past her and heard Rosemary's sharp intake of breath and several outraged cries as the woman fainted. Before anyone could realize it was an act, Angela reached for the weapon in the deputy's holster and pointed it toward the blond. Several shots rang out as the outraged alarm turned into fear and unarmed men hurried to find cover.
Buck had just stepped away from the chair when Rosemary Clark seemed to faint, but his well-honed instincts told him it was far from real. He turned his attention to the second woman just in time to see her level a gun at Larabee. He drew and fired in one motion and watched as a look of disbelief shone on his wife's face just before she looked down at the blossoming red stain on her bodice.
"B...Buck," she stammered and turned her weapon toward her husband as another shot rang out. Ezra's weapon had slid into his hand with an accuracy born of practice and desperation. He had pulled back on the trigger and watched as Angela Tate-Wilmington crumpled to the floor in a heap.
"NO!" Rosemary Clark was on her feet in and instant and grabbing for the weapon in Rawlings' holster, but was quickly grabbed by a nearly hysterical John Matthews. "Let me go! He murdered her!"
"Someone get Doc Morton!" Tanner shouted as they eased Chris Larabee to the floor.
"Vin, is he all right?" Wilmington shouted and was soon joined by Orrin Travis as the rest of the deputies emptied the courtroom.
"I don't know! He's bleeding!"
"Let me through!" Morton ordered and looked first at the dead woman and then at his patient. "Where's he hit this time?"
"N...not," Larabee stammered.
"I think he's just bleeding because I shoved him! The woman had him dead to rights!" Samuel Duff explained.
"You're not hit?" Wilmington asked, his eyes showing a mixture of concern and hope.
"No, just knocked the wind outta me!"
"Did more than that, Chris. Think maybe it opened up the wound in your side. Be still now and let me take a look."
"Buck...Angela?"
"She's dead," the ladies' man answered as he watched Sanchez place his coat over the dead woman's face.
"You murdered her! You bastards are gonna pay!" Rosemary Clark struggled against the sheriff and the mayor as they dragged her out of the courtroom.
"Doc, how does it look?" the ladies' man asked.
"Like I said, the banging around opened the wound. It's a setback, but not so bad as having another piece of lead in him!"
"Thanks, Mister..."
"Samuel Duff. Folks 'round here call me Duff. Ain't nothin' ta thank me for. I saw her grab the gun and look at ya and I had ta do somethin' real quick."
"You saved m...my life..."
"Chris, you can thank him later. Buck, Vin, we need to get him back to my place. Think you boys could carry him?"
"I can..."
"Lie there and be quiet!" Travis ordered and watched the physician as he pressed a piece of material against the bleeding wound.
"Nothing more I can do until we get him back to my place. Buck, you and Vin, get him on his feet, but be careful and don't let him put any pressure on his leg!" Morton warned. He stood and watched as Larabee's friends got him on his feet. Sanchez and Standish turned up and between them they carried a protesting Chris Larabee out of the courtroom.
Evan Rawlings made sure his two prisoners were locked in their cells before hurrying back to the saloon. Angela Tate-Wilmington's body remained on the floor, but most of the people had left. He spotted two boys peeking under the batwing doors and shooed them away before entering the saloon. He spotted Samuel Duff standing with Gerald Carlton and moved towards them.
"Cecil will be here in a few minutes to take care of her," Rawlings explained.
"Hell of a mess," Duff said.
"Yeah. I think it really shook the mayor up," Carlton observed.
"He'll get over it!" the sheriff said. "Duff, you saved Chris's life today and I'm indebted to you," the sheriff patted the older man on the shoulder as he spoke.
"Well, Sheriff, I figured even though he's a friend of yours he must have some redeeming qualities," Duff said with a grin. He'd known the sheriff since he'd taken the job, and they had a quiet respect for each other.
"Oh, that's one more I owe you," Rawlings said.
"Hell of a thing when a fine lookin' woman like that tries to kill a man," Carlton said softly.
"Yeah, it is, but at least she won't be hurting anyone else," Rawlings said as Cecil Leonard entered the saloon. The lawman took a deep breath and moved to help the man take care of the dead woman.
Chris gritted his teeth as Morton worked on his side and silently cursed his own refusal of laudanum. He felt each tug of the needle as each stitch was put in place and clenched his fingers in the edge of the blanket.
"Last one," the physician assured him.
"Thank Christ!" Larabee ground out.
"He offered you the laudanum, Son," Sanchez tried as he held Larabee in place.
"I know...shit!"
"That's it. Now all you have to do is lie there and give yourself time to heal!" the physician warned him.
"He will, Doc," Wilmington vowed. Since returning to the room his mind kept replaying the instant in the courtroom when he'd drawn his weapon on a woman and pulled the trigger. It was something he thought he'd never do, but it had happened and although he knew he had no choice, it still weighed heavy on his heart.
Chris saw the look on his long time friend's face and waited for the doctor to finish with him. Once he was finished Chris motioned for Tanner to come close and waited until the younger man was close enough to hear him.
"Need to talk to Buck."
"All right," the Texan said and stood up. "Boys, think maybe Sheriff Rawlings could use our help."
"Yes, I'm sure he would be appreciative if we were to..."
"Jest say you agree, Ezra, no need of sermonizing it," Sanchez said.
"Chris, we'll be..."
"Buck," Tanner interrupted the ladies' man. "Someone needs ta sit on Chris ta make sure he stays put!"
"Doc's here..."
"Sorry, but I have a couple of other patients to check on."
"Guess you're stuck with me, Buck," Larabee said.
"Buck, I'm leaving the laudanum in case he needs it," Morton explained and placed the bottle on the bedside table.
"We'll bring ya back somethin' ta eat, Buck," Tanner said as the judge held the door open for them.
"Don't forget me, Tanner!" Larabee warned.
"Chris, I'll bring your lunch when I come back," Morton assured him.
"Anything but broth," the gunslinger said and heard soft snickers from his friends. It didn't take long for the room to empty out and Chris watched as his friend walked to the window. He knew he'd been right about the gentle rogue needing to talk and wanted to give him the time he needed together his composure.
"I killed her, Chris."
"You didn't have a choice, Buck," Larabee said, hating the sorrow and pain he heard in his friend's voice.
"Didn't I?" Wilmington turned toward the injured man with tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.
"What choice did she give you?"
"I didn't have to shoot to kill!"
"Is that what you intended when you shot her?"
"I don't know. I just saw the gun and knew I couldn't let her hurt anyone else, especially you. She hurt you too much already," Wilmington swallowed the painful lump in his throat as he tried to keep the horror from his voice.
"I'm not the only one she hurt, Buck! She hurt you in the worst possible way. She hurt you through me..."
"Ya got that wrong, Chris. I wasn't hurt."
"Weren't you? I think Angela hurt you more than any bullet to the chest could, Buck. She took your heart and for the lack of better words, she broke it and that's something I'll never forgive her for. Tell me you're not hurting..."
"I wish I could, Chris, God help me I loved her and hated her at the same time. How is that possible?"
"Someone once told me there's a fine line between love and hate, Buck. What we have to do is know where we draw that line and why we step over it. I thought I loved Ella Gaines and was ready to marry her, but you know what a fucking mistake that was!"
"My mama would say Angela and Ella were both cut from the same cloth and should be burned until there's nothing left for the wind to blow away," Wilmington said sadly as he sat on the chair next to Larabee's bed. He studied the handsome face that still seemed to pale and knew Chris was the one man who could understand what he meant. They'd been through many of the same emotions and now it seemed as if it really was time to let go.
"Get your head up, Buck, and walk proudly. There are few men who know as much about me as you do and not another man I'd rather have at my side. I know we've had disagreements, but don't ever doubt that I'll be there if and when you ever need me."
"Thanks, Chris, I needed that," Wilmington said and reached for the bottle of laudanum. Now, it's 'bout time you took this and got some sleep."
"No way in hell!" Larabee spat as he saw the relief on his friend's face.
"Now, Pard, you and I both know you don't have the strength of a newborn calf and I'm a lot stronger than that. Open up!"
Larabee glared at the rogue and knew there was no choice in the matter as Buck held the spoon in front of his mouth. He swallowed the medicine and took the offered water, before closing his eyes and waiting for it to take effect.
Chris smiled as Evan Rawlings and his new wife entered the room. He'd wanted to attend the wedding, but Morton refused to be cajoled into letting him out of bed. Three days had passed since the incident at the trial and during that time Chris had suffered through a mixture of fever and chills that succeeded in sapping what little energy he had. Now he was finally starting to come around, but it was too late to attend the wedding itself.
"Chris, you look a lot better than you did yesterday," Rawlings advised.
"Thanks, I think," Larabee said and tried to sit up straighter.
"Don't you mind him none, Mr. Larabee. You look fine."
"Thank you, Miss....Mrs. Rawlings."
"I thought we were past that, Mr..."
"Only when you agree to call me Chris," the blond told them as Wilmington and the others came into the room. He knew the ladies' man had stood for their friend and also knew the wedding present he was about to give the two would go far in making sure they had a comfortable future.
"I'll try, Mr...I mean Chris," the woman blushed and suddenly Chris saw the true beauty in this woman.
"Congratulations to you both and I hope you're both showered with riches that a man and woman can truly enjoy," Larabee told them.
"Thank you, Chris," Rawlings said.
"Evan, me and the boys decided to give you both a wedding present," Wilmington said, and shook his head as the others tried to protest. "I know it is rightfully mine, but it comes from all of us and I hope you won't refuse it because...well he...shoot, I wouldn't know what to do with it."
"Buck, stop blubbering and tell the newlyweds your news," Standish said impatiently.
"I'm getting to it!"
"By the time ya do they'll be complainin' about bein' grey," Tanner cut in.
"I'm getting there!"
"You are?" Sanchez asked.
"Damn, okay look, Evan, Martha," Wilmington reached for Martha's hand and held it in his own. "I want so much for you to have this and knowing how hard things can be on a lawman's wages I figured you'd have a hard time getting a place of your own."
"Buck...I...we," Rawlings interrupted.
"No, Evan, let me finish, okay? See I loved Angela Tate, but not the woman she became. When I first met her I thought God had seen fit to send me an angel, but that was not to be and like so many people who fall for the wrong person, I was hurt...not in the same way Chris was, but it hurt me still. I'm not getting this across very well, but what I'm trying to say is that I want you to have Angela's place. Now hold on and listen to what I'm saying. I won't ever live there and that means that beautiful home and all the stuff inside will just go to dust and what good is that. This way I'll know that someone I care about is living there and making it a home...a real home with kids and maybe even a dog..."
"Buck, I don't know what to say," Rawlings said as he watched his wife's face fill with sadness.
"Say yes, Evan, and all I ask is for you both to be happy," the rogue said.
"Oh, Buck," Martha cried and pulled him into a fierce hug. She knew this man wasn't being forward in his offer of the home and she turned to her new husband with tears in her eyes. "This feels right, Evan. I think God has shown us exactly what he wants us to do. By accepting this offer from Buck, we're releasing him from any bonds he had to that despicable woman and he's giving us the means to raise a family."
"Never argue with a woman, Evan, especially when she's your wife and smart as a whip," Sanchez explained.
"Looks like I'm outnumbered..."
"And outgunned," Standish said with a grin.
"Well, it seems like there should be some kind of toast," Larabee said and tried to sit up a little more.
"Doc always has a bottle handy," Rawlings said and moved to check the cupboards. He smiled as he reached for the unopened bottle of whiskey and several glasses that he quickly poured a measured dose into.
Chris reached for a glass, but was intercepted by a very wily female.
"Sorry, Chris, whiskey is not on Dr. Morton's list of things you should have," Martha scolded softly.
"Ah, hel...heck, Martha, wasn't gonna drink it, just make the toast," Larabee told her.
"Sure you were..."
"Really I was..."
"Then water will do just fine," the woman said and handed him a glass of clear water.
"Damn," Larabee said.
"Feel sorry for you, Chris, I surely do," Rawlings said with a hint of a grin on his face.
"Just remember this when you're laid up sick or hurting, Evan, and she hands you a glass of horse piss," the blond said and heard the others laugh.
"A toast," Wilmington said and they held their glasses high. "To a lifetime of happiness and a houseful of children underfoot."
"Thanks, Buck," Rawlings said as they completed the toast.
Chris nodded at his friend who seemed so much more at ease now that he'd handed over the Tate ranch to the loving couple. He knew Evan and Martha would have many years of happiness under the roof and erase the memories left over from Tate's ownership. He closed his eyes and listened to the others talking and knew Wilmington was beginning to rid himself of the guilt he felt. Chris knew it would not go away overnight, but at least it was a beginning and Chris knew all about beginnings. His own world had crashed in on him nearly four years ago when Ella Gaines had hired Fowler to kill his family, but he'd managed to pull himself back from the brink and had found a new family. One made up of six other men who relied on each other and were there to help each other when the deck was stacked against them. These men were his family and Four Corners was his home he though and drifted towards an easy sleep.
"Nathan, I see 'em coming!" Dunne shouted as he raced up the stairs to the healer's clinic. Two weeks had passed since the wire from Josiah stating that Chris and Buck were healing and that Angela Tate was dead. Ethan Turner was sentenced to Yuma while Rosemary Clark had been sent to a sanatorium to live out her life. Since finding out that Angela Tate was dead he woman had become quiet and withdrawn. She wouldn't eat or drink and never spoke a word. Morton had said she was probably in deep shock and might never be the same again. Either way she faced a lifetime of seclusion.
Nathan hurried out and met the kid at the top of the stairs and glanced toward the street as five men rode up. He gave them all a quick once over until his expert gaze came to rest on Chris Larabee. The stitches had been removed from above his eye, but he couldn't see the wound, because a familiar hat covered it. The blond's arm was still immobilized and he could tell Larabee was favoring his injured side. Nathan hurried down the stairs and reached the bottom at the same time the group drew to a stop before the clinic.
"Chris, come up to the clinic and let me take a look at you," Jackson ordered.
"I don't think so, Nate. I need a drink!"
"Chris..."
"Mr. Jackson, might I remind you that it has been a long dry road we've traveled and perhaps Mr. Larabee would be more willing to submit to your examination if he is feeling slightly tipsy," Standish suggested.
"It'd take more than me feeling a little tipsy," Larabee told him, dismounting and wincing as his feet hit the ground.
"It won't take long," Jackson tried.
"Nate, let the man have a drink and I promise I'll personally hogtie him and carry him up to your clinic," Wilmington said.
"Try it and I'll..."
"Shoot me?" the gentle rogue laughed, contented now that they were finally home. 'Home,' he thought as he gazed at the weather-beaten buildings and felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Buck, are you okay?" Dunne asked as the others walked towards the saloon. He'd been watching the older man closely and could still see the evidence of what he'd been forced to do. This man was a lover of women and he'd been forced to shoot someone who he thought he loved.
"No, Kid, not really, but I'm getting there," the ladies' man said, removing the younger man's hat and hitting him with it and laughing as dust billowed up from the youth's clothing. They made it to the saloon and entered through the batwing doors. Once inside they hurried to their usual table and sat down as Inez delivered the drinks.
"Ez, not sure if I said this, but even if I did, I'll say it again," Wilmington said as he looked at the gambler. "You saved my life that day and I'm beholding to you."
"I believe that debt has been paid many times over," Standish said simply.
"That may be, Ez, but we're all grateful that you're quick with that little hide-away of yours," Larabee said and lifted his glass.
"Mothah always said to be prepared," Standish told them.
"Time for a toast," Larabee said as he looked at each man before returning his attention to the liquor in his glass.
"Whatcha got in mind, Cowboy?" Tanner asked.
"To family and the strange places we find them," the blond said and knew the others understood what he was telling them. They lifted their glasses and relaxed, yet each man knew that at any time their lives could be put on the line without a moment's notice. Theirs was a family of misfits, but the design was perfect. Chris sat back and his eyes met Buck's and a silent vow passed between them, a vow that no one, man or woman, could ever break.
THE END
PHOENIX
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