Mindy slipped her tiny right hand into the gunslinger's left as they walked back into the house. She held the plate tightly in her left, not wanting to drop the cookies that rested there. She smiled as they entered the house and went into the kitchen, where she poured a glass of lemonade for the injured man.
Chris smiled as the child set everything on a small tray. She took a few of the tiny desert dandelions from the basket of wildflowers on the table. Then she placed them in a small empty bottle in the center. She carefully poured a large glass of cold lemonade. Her tongue snuck out the side of her mouth, in her determination and widened her smile.
"Ready?" Larabee asked the eager child.
"Do you think he'll really like my cookies?" she asked, the smile slipping a little.
"Yep."
"How do you know?"
"'Cause you made 'em!" The blond said and ruffled her hair, happy to see the innocent smile return to her face. "...with an extra ingredient."
"I did?" Her wide eyes inquired.
"Yup...you put love in there."
Beaming, Mindy picked up the tray and followed Chris to his room.
Vin lifted his head slightly as the door opened. He smiled as Mindy Lawrence stuck her head in the door. The child looked so much better than the last time he'd seen her in the stage. He knew Chris Larabee had a lot to do with that. From the stories Buck often told them the blond was a wonderful father, and Vin saw that whenever the gunman was around Billy Travis.
"Hi, Vin, can I come in?" she asked softly, the tray held in front of her.
He smiled mischievously at her.
"That fer me?" he asked, his blue eyes twinkling with devilish mischief.
"Yeah, I made 'special!" she answered as Chris moved to the bed.
"I made 'em for you," she answered as Chris moved to the bed.
"Think you can sit up a little?" Larabee asked.
Again the eyes glowed with mirth as he answered.
"Fer sugar cookies...reckon I could!"
Chris eased him onto his side, wincing in sympathy as a hissed moan issued from slack lips.
"Sorry," he said, leaning his friend back on the pillow.
"It's okay...worth it fer them cookies," the tracker said. Smiling as he saw the little girl's eyes widen in excitement.
"Chris already had his, so these are just for you," she said as she sat on the chair and held the tray in front of him.
"Did ya make the lemonade too?" Tanner asked.
"Nah, I can't do that yet. Molly made it and she said it's real sour."
"Don't go givin' none ta Chris, he's sour 'nough," the tracker said and winked conspiratorially at the child. He eyed the flowers and his heart melted. "Fer me?" He asked and she leaned over and kissed his cheek. That brought a genuine blush and gave his best friend a wide smile.
"Thanks, Sugar, they's real pretty..." Vin touched the blooms and then tapped her nose.
Chris listened to his friend talking to the girl and couldn't help but feel pride at the ease with which the tracker spoke to Mindy. The scruffy Texan seemed to melt when he came in contact with children, but this one seemed to have gotten under his skin. The gunslinger realized it probably had to do with them both being orphaned at an early age. He shook his head as he heard Mindy's laughter. Once more he saw the devilment in the wondrous pools of blue looking in his direction.
"Vin likes my cookies too, Chris," Mindy bounced on the chair in her excitement.
"Sure do," the tracker said as he bit into the last of the last cookie.
"Want some more lemonade?"
"Yep," the tracker said and accepted the glass, drinking most of the tart liquid before placing it back on the tray.
Chris didn't miss the pain hidden just below the depths of his friend's eyes. He turned to Mindy and smiled as he asked.
"Why don't we go get some flowers for Molly," he said.
"Can we?" the girl asked and stood up.
"Sure, you put those in the kitchen and I'll be right out."
"Okay," she said and turned to go. She turned quickly and made her way to the bed. Mindy bent down and kissed his right cheek, smiling as the whiskers on his face rubbed against her soft skin. She turned quickly and hurried out the door.
"You ready to lie back down?" Larabee asked, worried about the sweat beading on the younger man's forehead.
"Y...yeah," the injured man groaned.
"Here, take this first," the blond ordered and held a dose of Laudanum before his friend's mouth. The fact that the tracker took it without arguing lent credence to the amount of pain he was still in.
Larabee removed the pillows and eased his friend back on the bed.
"Sorry, Pard," he said as he heard the hiss of air being released.
"I...it's ...okay... Go...Mindy's waitin'," he ordered. He let his eyes close and waited for the throbbing in his back to ease. A frown formed as something nagged at the back of his mind. Something he couldn't quite grasp, yet he knew it had something to do with Chris Larabee. He heard the door close and knew he was alone. Sleep finally overtook his thoughts, leaving him with a sense that he was letting his friend down.
Chris smiled as he watched Mindy picking the wildflowers at the edge of town. In spite of their talk and the time spent with Vin, he knew the child needed to be doing things to keep her mind off her aunt. With Molly's help he'd been able to do just that. The cookies were a big hit and Mindy smiled with pride during their visit. Maybe he'd encourage her to read to Vin in the afternoons. He knew Vin was sleeping and hopefully would continue to do so, as the laudanum kept pain to a minimum.
"Chris, I got lots of flowers!" Mindy called as she raced towards him.
"Yep, I think you do."
"Think Molly and Vin will like them?"
"I think so. They're just about the prettiest things around here," he paused long enough to cup her chin, "Except you."
Molly smiled as she hugged him tightly. She took his right hand in her left and they walked back towards Molly's boarding house.
Mindy spotted Molly standing outside the house. She released Chris' hand and ran towards the woman, excitedly waving the flowers in front of her.
Chris frowned as a sudden chill ran the length of his body. A soft touch on his shoulder and a whisper in his ear caused him to spin around. His hand automatically reached for his gun as the now familiar words echoed through his mind.
Help us!
"Dammit!" He felt an icy knife run up his spine. "What the hell is going on!" he hissed and turned back as a woman's worried voice reached his ears.
"Chris, are you alright?"
Larabee looked around the open area and realized he was standing in the center of the clearing, crouched low, his hand resting on his colt. His throat constricted as a cloying scent reached his nostrils and he staggered. Unable to take a deep breath without having the foul odor cause his stomach to roll, he sank to his knees in the street. His head pounded and he fought to quell the rising tide of nausea.
"Chris!" Molly called as she raced towards him.
The gunslinger heard her call to him as if from a distance. As quickly as the feeling came over him it left and he was able to suck in a deep breath of the sweet fresh air. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned a sweat soaked gaze at the worried woman.
"Are you okay?" she asked, not liking the gray cast of his skin.
"Y...yeah, guess the sun got to me," he lied, and climbed wearily to his feet. He swayed for a second, bent at the waist. With hands riding his tense hips, he tried to shake his head clear. He blinked his eyes, staving off the weakness invading his body and slowly walked towards the boarding house. By the time he reached the front door, he felt as if his strength had been drained from him. The gentle but firm pressure on his arm allowed him to stagger towards the room he shared with Vin Tanner.
Molly steered the dazed guest towards the room, a worried frown on her face. Something about this man tugged at her heartstrings and she wondered about the sadness she felt surrounding him. She held the door and watched as he slipped into the room.
Chris turned a grateful gaze on the woman before turning towards his friend. Vin slept on his stomach, hands under his head, and his left leg drawn slightly towards his stomach. Once he made sure his friend was okay he moved to his own bed. The late afternoon sun shone through the window as Chris sank onto the bed. He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes as Molly shut the door. In spite of the early hour, exhaustion plagued the gunslinger and he drifted into a troubled sleep It was a fetid, dismal abyss where headless corpses called out for him to help them, and skeleton hands reached for his soul.
Molly stood with her back to the door and looked towards the kitchen. She'd sent Mindy inside as soon as she saw Larabee reach for his gun. His reaction surprised her as she neither saw nor heard anything that would cause the man to reach for his gun. Once he sank to the ground she'd hurried over to him and knew something strange was going on. His face had been drawn with pain, yet she knew there was nothing wrong with him, at least nothing she could see. She heard the child calling to her and shook off the sense that something was definitely wrong with her guest.
Buck glanced at the woman who passed him, tipping his hat and smiling a roguish grin. He knew Ezra was still sleeping, and would probably sleep for the remainder of the afternoon. The town of Jasper was filled with excitement and the gambler's luck had been remarkable. Pot after pot was dragged in by the conman during the night, until he cleaned out every man in the fancy casino. A couple of sore losers had accused the conman of cheating. Buck knew better; Standish was no match for these amateurs. The ladies man stood by his friend during the long hours at the table. He finally escorted his friend to his room early that morning, just as the first soft rays of dawn spread her delicate fingers across the sky.
Buck hurried across the street to the restaurant. His stomach grumbled at the thought of Steak and eggs, biscuits and flapjacks. He smiled as he thought of JD and how much the kid could eat.
Might just put you to shame, Kid, he thought as he stepped into the simple room. Six patrons were present, three men and three women, enjoying the ample plates that were set before them. The tables were topped with red and white checked table cloths. He bit back a chuckle as he remembered the day Ezra had gambled and lost everything, including the shirt on his back. He'd wrapped himself in a table cloth and walked out of the saloon repeating the same words, He cheated! over and over.
Buck smiled as he took a table beside the big window and waited for someone to serve him. He smiled as a woman wearing a simple dress and white apron came towards him. Her silver hair was pulled back in a tight bun and her soft grey-blue eyes twinkled mischievously. The woman reminded him of Nettie Wells and he gave her a winning smile.
"Hello, Darlin'," he said, and saw the face break out in a wondrous smile, that made the sunshine pale in comparison.
"Hello, yourself...Handsome," she said, and winked at the bold rogue.
"What can I get for ya?"
"Well, I'd like a thick, juicy steak and maybe a couple of eggs, biscuits and some of them flapjacks, and a strong cup of coffee."
"Feelin' a mite hungry are ya?" she asked, as she used a cloth to wash the top of the table.
"Just a little," Wilmington agreed.
"Ya want gravy on that steak?"
"Yes, Ma'am..."
She stood up and looked into the roguish eyes, her hands suddenly going to her hips.
"Well, now, how come we've gone from Darlin to Ma'am in such a short time?"
Buck knew if this woman was a few years younger he'd be smitten with her. The mischievous look on her face, and the twinkle in her eyes told him she was a woman who would have been a hell of a lot of fun in her younger days.
"Well, Darlin'..."
"Back ta Darlin'...my, my but you certainly know how ta make a girl feel good," she said and patted his hand as a slight blush appeared on his face.
"Why don't ya just call me Daisy?"
"Daisy," Buck said with a grin. "A pretty name for a lovely lady."
"Why thank ya, but don't let my Harvey hear ya say that. He tends ta get a mite upset when I flirt with the customers. Last man is probably pushing up daisies, and I don't mean me, out back somewhere."
Buck nearly choked at her words and again had a sense of how much fun this woman could be.
"Maybe we'd better stick with Ma'am," he said as he caught a glimpse of a grey haired man out of the corner of his eye. The man stood in the doorway to the kitchen, a large knife held in his right hand.
"Daisy, yer last order's been ready fer a while. What're ya Doin'? Ya flirtin' with that poor man?" he asked.
"Ah...No...Sir...she..."
"Don't worry about it, Son. Ain't got the energy ta go chasin' after her let alone you. What's he want, Daisy?" he asked.
"What if I said he wants me?"
"I'd say he can have ya!" the man laughed as he ducked back into the kitchen.
"Well now, ain't that gratitude for ya. Woman gives some of the best years of her life to a man and he's willin' ta turn her over ta the first man comes askin' for her." She turned away from the table and hurried into the kitchen, leaving a flabbergasted Buck Wilmington staring after her.
"Don't worry about it, Mister. Harvey and Daisy are harmless. They've been married fer longer than most of us have been on this earth. Ya won't find a better cook than Harvey, and Daisy makes the best apple pies around these parts."
Buck listened to the young man at the next table and smiled at his explanation of the elderly couple who ran the restaurant. He watched as the door opened and Daisy returned with a plate of food and a cup. She placed the meal in front of a man seated beside the kitchen and then hurried towards him with the coffee.
"Harvey's cookin' yer steak and eggs now. Should be ready in a few minutes."
"Thanks you, Ma'am," he said and took a sip of the hot liquid.
"You're welcome," she said and whispered softly. "Don't let him scare ya, Son, maybe you and I could slip away a little later." She laughed as coffee spewed from his mouth at her softly spoken words.
"Oh, Hell," Wilmington said, knowing by the look on her face he'd been had. He watched her move around the room, checking to make sure her customers were okay, before returning to the kitchen. The woman's movements were easy and sure and showed none of the signs of her age. He relaxed and looked out the window, frowning as he thought of Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. He wondered if they were back from Yuma yet and decided to telegram Four Corners as soon as he finished his breakfast.
Half an hour later, his belly full, and his ribs hurting from laughing so much, Buck walked towards the general store and telegraph office. He pushed open the door and hurried over to the counter. There were two customers ahead of him and he waited patiently for them to finish. It didn't take long for the man to serve the two women and Buck tipped his hat as they walked past him.
"Do somethin' for you, Mister?"
"Yeah, I want to send a telegram to Four Corners."
"Who do I send it to?"
"JD Dunne."
"Write the message on here," the man said as he passed Wilmington a well worn slate and piece of chalk.
Wilmington frowned as he thought of the best way to compose the message. He decided on as few words as possible and passed the slate back to the telegraph operator. The ladies man watched as the man read the message and then frowned.
"Is something wrong?" he asked as the man turned away from him.
"Are you Buck Wilmington?"
"That's right," the rogue said, worry suddenly overshadowing his good spirits.
"I got a telegram here for Buck Wilmington or Ezra Standish from Farmington." He passed the telegram to the mustached man.
"Thanks," Wilmington said as he read the message.
***Vin hurt... witnessed murder...will testify in one week...Larabee***
"Dammit!" he hissed as he read the message again.
"Something wrong?"
"Yeah. Don't send that last message to Four Corners. I need to send one to Chris Larabee in Farmington instead."
"Yes, Sir," the man said as he erased the unsent message and handed it back to the ladies' man. He quickly wrote the new message and hurried out of the store. He knew they wouldn't be able to leave today, but something told him it would be important for him and Ezra to leave for Farmington as soon as possible.
Buck made his way along the street until he came to the hotel they were staying. He smiled as he remembered Ezra talking to the woman who owned and operated The Golden Touch Hotel. The gambler talked smoothly, enthralling the elegantly dressed female with his southern dialect and gentlemanly manners. It often amazed him when Standish showed a new side of himself as he'd done since their arrival in Jasper. The man could not only fleece his unwitting peers, but could talk to the ladies as easily as he could. Before he even had a chance to speak, the gambler had them registered at the best suites in the house at a discounted price.
The scoundrel hurried through the door and across the lobby. High backed chairs, with dark brown cushions were lined along one wall. He raced up the staircase and along the well lit hallway until he came to room 22. He rapped loudly on the door and waited impatiently for an answer.
Something invaded the slumbering gambler's sleep, attempting to pull him from his dreams. He fought the interruption, not wanting to give up the stack of money in the center of the table. He looked at the five cards in his hands and knew he held every gamblers dream. A Royal Straight Flush from the ten to the ace of hearts. He folded the cards and placed them face down in front of him and called the wager from the woman across from him. He knew this was a dream, yet he was about to do something he didn't think possible.
Ezra, Sugah, you should no bettah than to bet against your mothah. Read 'em and weep! Maude Standish exclaimed as she placed her cards face up on the table, revealing a low straight flush from the three to the seven of diamonds.
Again the knock came on the door, and the gambler eased onto his left side, pulling the satiny soft sheets up over his head. "Go away!" he shouted and tried to sink back into the dream once more.
Buck pounded on the heavy door, smiling as doors opened and people stared out at him.
"Come on, Ez, I need ta talk to ya!"
Ezra looked across the table at his mother as he picked up his cards. His eyes twinkled as he looked at the woman he both loved and admired as the best gambler ever born. His dream of beating her at her own game was finally at hand. He opened his cards and was about to reveal his winning hand when the incessant pounding began in earnest.
"Not now!" he cried as, like all dreams, things began to fade and he awoke with a sense of loss. He threw the covers back and glanced angrily at the door as Wilmington's booming voice was muffled by the heavy door.
"Mr. Wilmington," he hissed as he pulled the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around his body. Making his way to the door he released the locks. "You would be well advised to cease and desist that irritating noise or I shall be forced to shoot you myself!"
"Come on, Ez, open the damn door." The ladies man pushed his way inside and closed the door against prying ears and eyes.
"What is the meaning of waking me at such an ungodly hour?" Standish asked, walking back to his bed and sitting on the edge.
"Ain't so ungodly, Ez...not for most folks anyway..."
"Mr...."
"We need to leave..."
"What unsavoury deed did you commit that would result in our having to leave these luxurious surroundings?" Standish asked irately.
"Ain't done nothin'. It's Chris and Vin."
"What have Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner gotten themselves into that would result in our need to depart these premises?"
"Got a telegram from Chris. Him and Vin are in Farmington..."
"Why would they be in Farmington?" the gambler interrupted, frowning at the thought of the ride that lay ahead of them.
"Vin witnessed a murder and needs to testify."
"Are they alright?" he asked, a hint of worry seeping into his words.
"Chris' telegram said that Vin was hurt, but he didn't say how bad. I want to leave first thing tomorrow morning. If we ride hard we can be there late tomorrow afternoon."
"Mr..." he stopped when he realized this was not the time for formality. The man standing before him was a friend and now was not the time to distance himself. The conman could see the lines of worry on the usually playful face.
"Buck, did the telegram say how badly Vin was injured?"
"No...just says he's hurt."
"Try not to worry too much, Buck. I'm sure Chris would have said if it was something serious." He turned away, trying to hide the uneasiness creeping into his own mind and felt a slight chill settle in his body.
"Ezra, you alright?"
"I assure you I'm fine," Standish said as he turned and met the scoundrel's gaze. "I'm sure Vin will be too."
"I know he will, Ez. I just have this feeling that they'll both need us this trip. I know you're having a good run of luck at the tables but..."
"But nothing. Our friends are in need of our companionship and we shall endeavor to be there for them. I shall pack my clothes at once and we can leave within the hour."
Wilmington's eyebrows rose at the conman's words and he knew there was so much more to this man than most people saw. He smiled as he asked.
"You don't mind spending the night out in the desert?"
"I can think of worse places to spend one's nights," Standish said with a grin.
"Alright, get your things together and I'll meet you at the livery in an hour."
"We need supplies."
"I'll pick them up what we need before I meet you." Wilmington said and hurried to the door.
The music was soft, the crystal chandelier hung from the sedately decorated ceiling high above the heads of the lively guests. Two sets of eyes met across the dance floor, seeking each other out through the crowds of writhing bodies. Long black tuxedo clad legs stepped into the melee and green eyes sought out the beauty his eyes longed to see. He smiled as he caught sight of the blond tresses framing the face of an angel. She was the guest of honor. One he hoped would agree to be his tonight. As he reached the center of the ballroom the face he had come to love stood directly in front of him. He reached out and took the white gloved hand in his own, smiling contentedly as the twinkling blue eyes met his own. The music continued, but they remained still, enchanted by each other and ignoring everything around them. A silent bond held them to each other, one that would prove beyond a doubt that they were meant to be together. This Inn had been chosen for its elegance and charm as a place where they would finally seal their bond in a lifetime of love.
Above them, unseen by the party goers, ghastly figures waited for the feeding frenzy to begin. Demons with twisted torsos and skeletal arms waited for the signal that harvesting of new blood and flesh could begin. A lone figure stood at the front, watching the two figures meet in the center of the throng of twisting, unsuspecting bodies. Red eyes glowed in anger as the couple lost themselves in a warm embrace. This woman was meant to be his, his reward for serving the darker side of life. This man was inconsequential in the midst of his wanting need, yet the man's soul seemed to be the real reward. To take that soul, strong in the fight that had saved his own soul would prove that he was stronger than others of his kind.
He turned to his silent followers, smiling as his legions of death could not meet his eyes. This was his victory, and he would celebrate in the taste of flesh and blood. He felt the Inn surrounding him, a living structure that he was linked to. His home whenever he was allowed time in the light and warmth of the living world. He felt it breath expectantly as he stepped out onto the landing and once more gazed at the couple. They would both die this night, but the man's soul would be his, a victory to the dark side as the strong soul was pulled deeper into the darkness he'd once beaten.
"The time has come, Children. The blood of those spilled tonight will feed us in the trying times to come. You will not touch the man or woman," he ordered, knowing his legion of demons would know who he was speaking of. Tonight's victory will seal my fate and place this Inn in the world of light forever! he thought.
The red eyes glowed with the promise of fire and death as he led his followers towards the delicious temptation of unsuspecting flesh and blood.
Chris knew it was a dream, but the figure standing at the top of the spiral staircase was something that caused his heart to stop and his lungs to constrict. He heard the scream surrounding him and reached for the woman he held. Not really understanding who she was, yet knowing he had to get her to safety, he dragged her towards an open door. Winged creatures flew over his head, swooping down on the screaming guests frozen in the center of the floor. They were all strangers to him and he knew instinctively they were not meant to live through this unholy night, yet he needed to free this woman.
The door loomed ahead of him, but the opening was now covered by a demonic creature. Blood dripped from canine incisors, elongated fingers were covered in the flesh of a former victim. Red eyes glared at them as the crimson lips opened and a swarm of locusts flew from it's writhing mouth. He felt them enshroud his body, yet they didn't touch him. He pulled the woman towards him, terrified by the sense that her body was being devoured. He watched as blood ran in rivulets from the tiny wounds the insects inflicted. He heard the large creature in the door, yet he ignored what it said as he tried to protect her.
She knew she was meant to die tonight, it had been foretold to her in a dream. This man was a stranger to her, yet she knew she had to tell him, someday, when his life began, he would be given the test that would reveal the fate of the world. Whether it be as it always had been, or would dark times grow to encircle the earth, driving out the good to replace it with evil. She lifted her eyes to meet his, and gasped for breath as she felt the demon's talons sink into her back, slicing slowly down, opening flesh to reveal bone and cartilage underneath.
"You must find the journal and heed the..."
Chris gasped as the creature pulled her from his arms and twisted her perfect body until it snapped in two. Its high pitched cackles sent shivers of fear down his spine, working fingers of death into his mind and causing a scream of agony to erupt from his own mouth. He saw the razor sharp talons reach for him and screamed.
"NO!" as pain erupted in his left forearm.
Chest heaving as he tried to draw air into his frozen lungs, Chris sat up on the bed and screamed as his eyes shot open, the sound sharp and crystal clear in the nightmare realm, yet silent and desperate in the dim confines of the bedroom he now found himself in. He searched the lengthening shadows for the evil that had stalked him in his dreams, yet he could not remember who or what the evil was. He turned his head to the bed across the small space and was relieved to see he hadn't disturbed the injured man's sleep. Slipping his feet over the edge of the bed he ran his left hand through his sweat soaked hair. The gunslinger frowned as his eyes caught sight of a stain on his arm and he lifted the shirt off his skin. His eyebrows furrowed when he saw blood seeping from a small puncture wound on his arm.
What the hell did you do, Larabee? he thought as he reached for the cloth and cleaned the wound. He winced as the damp material touched against the small hole, but couldn't remember what caused it.
"Ya alright?"
The question came from the man lying on the other bed and Larabee could not help but smile at the sharpshooter. The unruly brown hair lay haphazardly around the pale face, and Chris could tell it was time for more laudanum. He eased off the bed, frowning at the lingering weakness, and wondering what had caused it.
"I'm fine, Vin. How are you feeling?" he asked as he moved to the tiny table and picked up the familiar brown bottle.
"Better..."
"That's good, Cowboy. Got something here for you."
"Not yet....Water first...an...and food..." the sharpshooter stated, a smile curling his lips as he watched his best friend.
Chris couldn't help but return the smile as he looked at the younger man. He placed the bottle back on the table.
"Guess we need to sit you up a bit."
"Reckon it'd help," the Texan drawled.
The gunslinger eased the tracker onto his side and piled extra pillows behind him in an effort to make him comfortable.
"Thanks, Chris," Tanner said, gratitude evident in the softly hissed words. His back throbbed from the move, but he kept it hidden from his friend. Something was going on with Larabee, but he couldn't grasp what it was.
"Anytime, Vin," the blond said and they clasped forearms awkwardly. "I'll see what Molly's got for dinner."
"...okay..." the tracker muttered, frowning as his friend moved slowly towards the door. What the Hell's wrong with ya Pard? he thought.
"We'll see," the blond said and walked towards the door. He frowned as he felt a tremor race through his body. He briefly wondered what could have caused the weakness that spread through his body so quickly. Something about the experience unnerved him, but he shook it off as he opened the door to see a pair of brown eyes looking at him.
"Hi, Chris."
"Hi, Mindy," he said and scooped the child into his arms.
"Molly and me made dinner. Are you hungry?"
"I sure am, Darling, and so is Vin," the gunslinger assured her.
"Is Vin coming out to eat with us?"
"Not yet...maybe tomorrow..." he saw the disappointment in her eyes and smiled at her. "Hmm, something smells good."
"Me and Molly made dinner," she said excitedly as he carried her back to the kitchen.
"That's great!" He smiled as he placed her on the floor and a familiar aroma reached his hungry senses. There was no mistaking the meal Molly Richmond was preparing, and Chris smiled as a haunting memory returned once more. He saw Sarah standing at the pot bellied stove, her face lit with the magical smile he would always associate with a happier time in his life. He shook his head as he felt a small hand slip into his own. Chris smiled at her as she led him to the table.
"How are you feeling, Chris?" Molly asked as she placed the large black pot in the center of the table.
"I'm fine, Molly, smells great."
"That's good, Chris. Hope you like chicken and dumplin's," she said.
"Always been a favorite of mine," Larabee told her as he picked up a plate and filled it for his friend. He poured a glass of the tart lemonade and smiled at the owner of the boarding house.
"I'll get Vin settled and be right back," he said and turned back to the bedroom.
Molly watched the blond carefully. Something happened in the middle of the clearing that afternoon, yet she couldn't figure out what it was. She knew it had something to do with Chris Larabee, but why she felt that she didn't know. A shudder ran through her frame as she watched him make his way towards the bedroom.
You've got some more trials ahead of ya, Chris Larabee. Some dark ones from the feel of things, she thought. She looked towards the child sitting at the table and prayed her grandparents would be able to care for her. To give her the happiness all children deserved and all adults craved.
Chris stepped into the room, placed the food and drink on the small table and hurried to his friend's side. The blue eyes were closed, but he could tell the patient wasn't sleeping. He eased the hair back off the pale face and watched as pale lids peeled back over soft orbs.
"Bout...time...man could starve ta death," Tanner groused good naturedly.
Larabee's eyebrows shot up and he smiled mischievously.
"Could always take it back," he said.
"N...no, that's al...alright," the tracker stammered, shifting slightly on the bed. "Wasn't that...long."
Larabee pulled the table closer to his friend. He smiled as the sharpshooter's stomach grumbled in anticipation.
"Think you can manage on your own?"
"Ain't needed nobody feedin' me since..."
"The last time you were stuck at Nathan's clinic," Larabee said with a grin.
"Damn," the tracker said and reached for the fork. "Git yer dinner, Lar'bee. I kin handle this on my own."
"Alright, just call if you need anything, Vin," the blond insisted.
"I will, now git."
Chris stood up and made his way to the door. He turned and watched the tracker struggle with the simple task of eating, yet he knew better than to offer his help. The tracker was an independent man, and would take the offer as a sign that others saw his weakness.
"Ain't gonna break, Lar'bee."
"I know." Chris smiled as he turned away from the reassuring words spoken by his friend. He made his way back to the kitchen, frowning at the slight burning sensation around the wound in his arm.
Vin winced as he shifted a little on the bed. He looked at the meal set on the table before him and picked up the fork. His position on the bed made it awkward, but he managed to get the first forkful into his mouth. While he ate, he tried to figure out what was bothering him about his friend. Since leaving Four Corners Chris seemed to have been distracted and it was steadily getting worse.
What the fuck's goin' on with ya, Chris? he thought, his appetite slowly disappearing as he worried about his friend. He knew if he didn't eat, Larabee would just worry about him, and the was something he didn't want right now. He had a tendency to be protective, sometimes overly so when it came to his friends. Slowly, but surely the chicken and dumplings disappeared from the plate as he ate without realizing it.
When it came to Chris Larabee he had a sixth sense, and right now it was working overtime. Something was wrong with the gunslinger, but exactly what he didn't know. He placed the fork on the empty plate and picked up he glass of juice. Drinking was a little harder, but he managed and finally lay back against the pillows, gasping as sharp spasms raced through his back.
"Dammit!" he hissed as he tried to find a comfortable spot. He tried to calm his breathing, hoping the pain would recede if he did. The agony diminished slightly, and with his remaining strength he twisted no the bed until he was lying flat once more. He drifted towards sleep no a sea of pain, is soft vow falling on the silence of the room.
"Whatever's happening, Lar'bee, I'll be there!" The soft breeze lifted the curtains from the window as a dark shadow formed and wavered outside. A draft of frigid air flowed over Vin Tanner and the young man shivered in spite of the warmth surrounding him.
"You won't get him!" the tracker vowed as he slipped into an unconscious state. His dreams were filled with images of a beautiful angel with iridescent blue grey eyes and shimmering silver hair. Her voice held a soothing quality, yet the message she gave him sent shivers through his subconscious.
Only you can save him, Vin Tanner, but you will need their help!
"Need their help," the Texan drawled, but didn't awaken as the vision faded from his dreams.
Chris sat at the table and looked up as he felt someone watching him. He smiled at the friendly woman as he picked up his plate and helped himself to the delicious smelling meal. His mouth watered in anticipation, but his stomach churned at the thought of putting anything into it.
"Chris, are you alright?" Molly asked softly, not wanting to alarm the child seated next to the blond.
"I'm fine, Molly," Larabee assured her, in spite of the weariness seeping into his body. He knew he wouldn't be able to eat much, but he didn't want to worry the friendly lady.
"Chris, me and Molly are gonna go for a walk after dinner. You want to come with us?"
Larabee smiled at the child and hugged her to him, feeling the warmth and excitement only small children seemed to exude. He tickled her under the chin and couldn't help but laugh with her.
"Mindy, I need to stay with Vin." He saw the disappointment in her eyes and hugged her to him. "I'm so..."
The little girl pulled away slightly and smiled through her tears.
"It's okay, Chris. I know Vin is hurt...so you need to help him. I'm a big girl now... Auntie Fran said so 'cause I was the only one left..."
Chris held her while she cried, knowing this was just what she needed. He looked up at Molly and noted her eyes were also filled with unshed moisture. He continued to hold Mindy as she cried, softly sobbing for her mother and father as she held tightly to his lean frame.
Mindy felt safe in his arms and clung to him tightly as she cried. She felt safe now, but she missed her parents and her aunt. She knew she would be going to stay with her grandparents when they arrived. For now she wanted nothing more than to be held by this man who was the closest thing to family she had. She knew he was worried about Vin and she lifted her head as the last of the tears left her eyes.
"'Sposed to be a big girl," she said as she used her small fingers to wipe at her face.
"You are a big girl, Mindy..." Larabee told her.
"Not big...crying..."
"Everyone cries, Mindy," the blond said, remembering his own tears at the loss he still held in his heart. The deep sadness of never seeing his child grow up, or having his wife beside him.
"They do?"
"Yes, Honey, they do," he assured her.
"You don't," Mindy said, frowning as she saw how untrue that was. She touched her finger to his eye and frowned at the wetness there. "How come you're crying, Chris? Is it 'cause you miss your family?"
Larabee smiled at the little girl and kissed her forehead, before answering.
"Yes, Mindy," he answered honestly and sat her in the chair next to him.
"Will we ever see them again?" the child asked.
"Someday," he said wistfully and lifted her chin once more. "But not for a long time. You'll be seeing your grandparents before long and they'll need you and l...love you just like your Ma and Pa did."
"They will?" she asked, her eyes bright and hopeful.
"Of course they will. Now are you ready to eat?"
"Hmm, hmm, me and Molly cooked it."
Chris smiled as he took his first taste of the meal and knew he wouldn't be able to eat much as his stomach continued to churn. What the hell's going on? he thought as his forearm burned once more.
The rest of the meal passed in silence and Chris managed to finish off what was on his plate. The meal sat heavily on his stomach as he stood up to help clear the table. Again, a wave of nausea assaulted him, but he fought to keep is discomfort from showing.
Molly watched her guest and knew he was still feeling the effects of whatever happened in the clearing. She knew Larabee and his friend were special and wondered just what kind of test they had ahead of them. As a child, her mother told her she'd been gifted with insight. Sometimes she was able to read people and signs easily, but in this case it was just a vague sense of unease. She knew in her heart it would be a hard road for these two, yet she knew they would not be alone. There were others out there who would also become entangled in whatever evil, for that's what this was, waited for these men. She shuddered as if something evil touched her soul and turned to see a shadow fall across the window.
"Molly, are you okay?" the gunslinger asked as the woman stood frozen in place. "Molly?"
"Huh?" she shook off the icy chill and forced a smile to her face. "Sorry, Chris, was just daydreaming. You look tired. Why don't you go lie down for a while."
"I'm fine, Molly, but I'd like to check on Vin."
"You go right ahead. Me and Mindy can handle the dishes. Right?"
"Can I wash?" the child asked as she picked up her plate and brought it to the counter.
"Sure can," Molly agreed, following Chris to the room he shared with the sharpshooter. "I'll just get the dirty dishes," she said as they walked into the room.
Chris moved to the bed and frowned at the beads of sweat forming on the tracker's forehead. He saw Molly remove the dishes and heard her leave the room. He reached out and touched his friend's arm, gasping at the clammy feel of the skin. He pulled the blankets up over the shivering form and took the one form his own bed to add to the blanket covering his friend. He took the washcloth from the small table and washed the perspiration from the pale face.
The blond sank heavily onto the chair between the beds and watched the tracker as he slept. There was something tense about the set of the strong shoulders, but he didn't know what caused it. He watched until the tension left the lean body and the face relaxed in sleep. Chris touched the forehead, sighing in relief as he felt the warmth of the skin. Vin now looked almost childlike, with his arms tucked under his head and his long hair spread across the pillow.
Chris sat back, watching over Tanner, feeling the icy tendrils of fear creeping into his mind and praying whatever was happening to him would not be able to touch those he cared about. He lost track of time as he stood vigil over his injured friend. Unconsciously his right hand touched the puncture wound in his arm, rubbing against the burning itch that continued unabated.
The shadows lengthened through the room as the dying daylight gave way to twilight and finally darkness. Chris finally stood up and stumbled to his bed, sinking into its welcoming warmth. His sleep was far from warm as nightmare images began to seep into the dreams, twisting them into horrific nightmares from which he could not escape.
Buck rode slightly ahead of Ezra, his body weary from too many long hours in the saddle. Darkness was spreading across the badlands and he knew they'd have to call a halt or risk injury to the horses. He looked up towards the sky and frowned at the red rimmed moon. A shiver ran down his spine, and he turned to see the gambler looking at him.
"We need to stop and care for the horses," Standish said softly, his body aching tiredly.
"Yeah, guess we'd better call it a night. We can make camp over in those rocks," the scoundrel suggested and the two men rode towards the small shelter.
"Are you sure you don't want to continue?"
"We won't be any good to Vin or Chris if we ride into Farmington and pass out," Wilmington said. "We'll head out at first light."
The two dismounted in the small circle of rocks, making sure the animals were ground tied before they set up camp. The night was surprisingly quiet, the moon high overhead, and a myriad of flickering stars casting an eerie blanket from horizon to horizon. Normally both men would have noted the silence, the almost absence of life, but their minds were on the two men in Farmington.
Ezra found the makings for a small fire and soon a soft glow brightened the immediate area, a circle of light in a world of darkness. He reached for the extra canteen and the coffee pot, and began making a small meal for him and his companion.
Buck removed the saddles from both horses and brushed them down before moving to the fire with the bedrolls. He spread them out on opposite sides of the tiny blaze and smiled as the aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached him.
"Coffee?"
"Yeah, thanks," Wilmington said, accepting the cup gratefully and settling down by the fire.
"I'm afraid our repast tonight will be a meager one," Standish told him as he tossed a couple of biscuits to the ladies man.
"Ain't all that hungry anyway. Thanks, Ez."
The gambler knew by the tone of Buck's voice that he was more than a little worried about Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. His own fears were growing stronger, yet he could not find a reason for them. He sank onto his own bedroll and watched the man across from him. He knew of Buck's penchant for having fun in just about any situation, but when the time came to help one of the others, the ladies man could be counted on. The scoundrel was a man who could be counted on, a man whose friendship was earned, not made.
"Hey, Ez, you alright?"
"I'm perfectly fine, Mr. Wilmington. Why do you ask?"
"You seemed like you were miles away."
"I assure you I am not planning on going anywhere," Standish told him as he settled down on the uncomfortable ground. "Unless you know of more comfortable accommodations in the area."
"'Fraid not, just gonna have to get used to it," the ladies man said softly.
"Oh, the indignity," the gambler said and closed his eyes.
Buck watched as the conman closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable. He smiled as he thought of the first time they rode together and how much Ezra Standish changed since that day he'd ran out on them, but something inside of him knew it was wrong and he came back to free them from Anderson's Ghosts of the Confederacy. Since that time he proved again and again that he could be trusted. Buck sighed heavily and lay back, closing his eyes as he settled down for the night.
The two men slept under the stars, unaware of the proximity to the circle of death they were. Neither man heard the painful cries of a Bobcat as it wandered to close to the pit of energy and was sucked into the first few inches. It's cries abruptly ended in a burst of blood, tearing cartilage, and ripping flesh. It's destroyed carcass joining the bones of previous victims. The unnatural stillness of the night returned as a great horned howl bypassed the circle, unwittingly saving its own life.
Vin opened his eyes and listened for the sound that awakened him. He lifted his head and used his arms to push himself upwards. He bit back a cry of pain as stiff muscles were forced to hold his body up on the bed. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he watched as his best friend struggled with an unseen foe.
"Chris!" he called, but his voice was weak from sleep and lack of moisture. He tried to sit up, but the movement sent rippling waves of pain through his body. He gasped, and sucked air into his lungs as he was forced to remain lying no the bed as his friend continued in the throes of some kind of nightmare only he could see.
"C...Ch....ris..." he called, painfully aware of his own inadequacies due to his injury. "Lar'...bee..." he cried out and heard a sharp intake of breath from across the room. "...Chris..."
The soft voice was like an anchor on a sea of evil and Chris Larabee reached for it...struggling to grab it and hang onto it for dear life. He heard the pain filled cries and knew he had to help his friend. Slowly, as if through a layer of thick cobwebs he surfaced and felt the evil retreat. His eyes came fully open and the nightmare was instantly forgotten as he sat up. The gunslinger turned to his friend, unaware of the blood oozing from the puncture wound in his arm. The ugly wound was the only remnant of the foul nightmare he'd suffered. A deadly reality left over from horrifying images he wouldn't remember for some time to come. He stood up and hurried across the tiny space, kneeling beside the bed.
"Hey, Vin, take it easy," the blond said as his eyes adjusted and he saw the lines of pain etched in the sweat soaked forehead.
"...are...ya...okay?"
Larabee's eyebrows rose as he reached for the lamp and lit the wick. "Me? Hell, Tanner, it's you that's hurt."
"...nightmare..."
"You had a nightmare?" the gunslinger asked.
" ...weren't me...ya was tusslin' with somethin'..."
"If I did, I don't remember it."
"...bad one...cried out," the tracker said tiredly.
"It's gone now, Vin. How's the back?"
"...same..."
Larabee reached for the brown bottle and poured a dose into the spoon. He lifted Tanner's head and awkwardly fed him the medicine, concerned when the tracker didn't balk at the idea. He eased the sharpshooter back to the bed and covered him in blankets once more.
"Go on back to sleep, Vin," he said as the blue eyes began to close.
"Gotta w...watch yer b...back," the younger man hissed as he shifted slightly on the bed.
"You always do, Pard," Larabee said as his friend lost the battle to stay awake. Chris frowned as he tried to remember the nightmare Vin told him he'd been having. Whatever it was it wasn't there anymore and he leaned back in the chair, locking his hands behind his head. Something wet ran down his left cheek and he brought his arms forward again.
"What the hell," he mumbled as a steady stream of blood ran down his arm and dripped onto the floor. He reached for the cloth on the table and put pressure on the wound. It didn't take long to stop the flow of blood and he wondered where the wound came from. He touched his fingertip against the puffy wound and winced at the heat he felt there. Standing up, he headed back to his own bed, his body exhausted once more.
Have Molly take a look at it in the morning, he thought as he dropped onto the mattress and quickly dropped into a dreamless sleep, his body craving the rest it needed.
"Hey, JD, what's wrong?" Jackson asked as he watched the younger man walking towards him. He was sitting outside the small church, relaxing with Josiah Sanchez.
"I just got a telegram from Chris."
"Did they make it to Jasper okay?" Sanchez asked.
"No. According to this they're in Farmington," the youngest member of the team said.
"Farmington? What are they doing there?" the healer inquired.
"Vin witnessed a murder and he's hurt," the kid explained.
Jackson was immediately at attention. "Hurt? How bad?"
Dunne handed the telegram to the healer and watched as he read the simple missive.
***Vin hurt...not serious... witnessed murder...will testify in one week...Larabee***
"Not serious he says," Jackson hissed. "Knowing Chris it could be anything from a hangnail to..."
"Broken bones," Sanchez finished.
"Or worse," the kid supplied. "Sent an answer back asking about the murder and if Chris needs our help."
"Good, JD, that's about all ya coulda done right now," Jackson said.
Dunne nodded and turned away from the two men. "I'm gonna check on Jake at the jail and see if he's sobered up from last night."
"Alright, JD, just make sure you let us know when you hear from Chris," Sanchez said.
"I will, Josiah," the youth said as he hurried away.
Jackson turned to the ex-preacher, frowning when he saw the older man staring at the street leading out of town. He reached out and touched his right hand against Sanchez' left shoulder, surprised when the man reacted as if he'd been burnt.
"Josiah, are you alright?"
Sanchez turned a steady gaze on his friend and forced a smile to his face.
"I'm fine, Nathan," he said softly.
"I know you, Josiah, something's eating at you. Does it have to do with Chris and Vin or Buck and Ezra?"
Sanchez stood up and paced back and forth in front of the church, his eyes coming to rest on the tree standing just to the right of it.
"I'm not sure. It could be either or all of them," the man whispered worriedly.
"Did you see your crows again?" Jackson asked. There was nothing condescending in his question and he knew Josiah would see it for what it was. The concern of a friend.
The ex-preacher stood beside the door to the church, is eyes raking over the horizon. Without realizing he'd stopped facing northeast, into the Bisti Badlands.
"I've been seeing them for a few days now. Not close up like they usually are and I'm hoping that means things are not set in stone. There's something brewing out there, Brother, and it has to do with our little family." He shivered as an icy chill ran down his spine, knowing in his heart that something evil was lying in wait for an unsuspecting victim.
"Do you want to ride out and meet them?"
"I don't think it would do any good, Nathan. Nothing's happened yet, and until it does we won't be of any help."
Jackson knew the older man was even more worried than he let on. He watched as Sanchez walked inside the church, shivering as his own eyes wandered towards the distant horizon. He knew the fact that Vin was hurt was not the cause of their unease, yet he couldn't put his finger on what was the cause. Picking up his empty coffee cup he walked into the street and made his way towards the clinic.
The healer was unaware of the large black crow that landed on the roof of Gloria Potter's store. The eyes were not black, but a crimson red that seemed to bleed from the icy bowels of hell. The head swivelled back and forth, seeking out the men who were part of a special family. One that was formed by the bonds of friendship, and not born of the same blood. For that was the only thing that could end the hope of a dark future. A true brother by blood, and for this reason Hell would soon reign over the land of the living, sucking the life from any who dared deny them this right. The eyes glowed a darker red as the crow took flight, seeking a direct line towards the circle of corruption.
Buck opened his eyes, groaning as he sat up, the remnants of his dreams leaving him chilled to the bones. The sun hadn't made its presence known yet, but the aroma of fresh coffee hit him. He stood up and moved towards the coffee pot, shaking his head at the sight of the gambler sitting on the opposite side of the fire.
"Ezra, ya know the others won't believe me when I tell them you were up before the birds."
"They will if you tell them about the despicable accommodations," Standish said. The truth was he didn't sleep very well at all. His dreams were unclear now, but the terror they evoked in him was stronger than he thought possible. He'd woken over an hour ago and knew he couldn't face the images from his nightmare. His hands continued to grip the cup in an effort to ward of the chill that was taking up residence in his body.
"Ez, are you alright?" Wilmington asked worriedly.
Standish thought about giving one of his blustering remarks, but something about the scoundrel's tone told him the other man would see right through it.
"I will be once we arrive in Farmington and hopefully discover they have the softest feather beds in the country," he said.
"I take it you didn't sleep too well?"
"Whatever gave you that idea?" the gambler asked, trying to keep the mood light as the first rays of the sun seemed to peek over the wastelands.
"Could be the extra bags you're packin'," the ladies man said with a grin.
"If you're referring to my eyes, then you haven't had the opportunity to gaze into a mirror lately," the younger man said.
"Okay, so neither one of us had much sleep. So why don't we pack it up and head towards Farmington," Wilmington said. He stood up and frowned as he finally noticed what was missing since they'd bedded down the night before.
"Is there a problem, Buck?" Standish asked, noting the slight tremor in the older man's body.
"I'm not sure. Just listen, Ez."
The two men stood beside the fire, neither one moving or saying a word as they listened to the silence. It was the gambler who broke the silence.
"What am I supposed to be listening to?"
"Nothing...that's just it, Ezra. There's nothing to listen to. There should be some sounds out here."
"This is The Bisti Badlands, Mr. Wilmington. Perhaps that would explain it."
"I don't think so. If Vin was here he'd tell ya that an absence of sound is a sign of trouble. It usually means somethin's scared the animals away," the ladies man told him.
"Our illustrious tracker would certainly know."
"Yes, he would. There's somethin' not right out here."
"In that case might I suggest we leave the vicinity immediately!"
"Y...yeah, the faster we're away from here the better. I'll get the horse saddled while you take care of this, okay?" the ladies man asked as he emptied his cup into the fire.
"That's fine, Buck," the gambler said and began dousing the fire with sand as the older man walked towards the horses.
Glowing red eyes watched from the dwindling darkness as the two friends broke camp. With a silent caw, the black bird took flight and finished its journey to its home in the evil that permeated throughout the circle.
Vin opened his eyes and frowned as his sleep drenched mind tried to grasp where he was. Sunlight was streaming through the open curtains, lending a soft warmth to the room. He shifted uneasily on the bed, the memory of pain still sharp in is awakening mind. He was pleasantly surprised to find dull throbbing pain instead of the sharp agony movement usually caused. He turned on his side, puffing as he realized he was still weak and the pain was not as easy as he first thought. His eyes strayed to the sleeping man in the other bed, and something tugged at him, just out of reach of his memory. He tried to sit up, but bit back a gasp as the dormant pain grew stronger with each move.
"Dammit!" He swore as he dropped back down on the bed, sweat beading on his forehead.
Chris heard the soft expletive and forced tired eyes to open. He looked towards the second bed and realized the younger man was awake. He swung his legs over the side and sat up, moving quickly towards his friend.
"Easy, Vin, what happened?" he asked, reaching for the cloth in the basin of water on the table and handed it to his friend.
"W...wanted ta sit fer a s...spell," the tracker answered, as he used the cloth to wash the last dregs of sleep from his face.
Chris knew the younger man hated being down, but even worse was being unable to get outside. The tracker was in his element when dealing with nature, but he didn't like being confined indoors. He placed a soothing hand on the sharpshooter's shoulder and nodded slightly.
"Wait till Dr. O'Malley takes a look at you, Vin. If he says it's okay we'll see about getting you outside for a while."
"When is he comin'?"
"Said he'd be by late this morning," Larabee assured him.
The tracker nodded and studied the face before him. He'd grown to know when something was bothering Larabee and he could see in the expressive green orbs that he wasn't getting much sleep.
"What's goin' on, Lar'bee?" he asked, shifting sideways on the bed.
The gunslinger shook his head, stood up and walked to the window. He looked into the street, shivering once more in spite of the warmth of the sun.
"Chris?" Tanner repeated, finishing the question with a penetrating blue gaze.
Larabee took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't keep anything from this man, and turned back to his friend.
"I can't explain it, Vin. It's like I know something's wrong, but I don't know what it is."
"Does it have anything ta do with Clark?"
"No...don't think so. That bastard's locked up tight and can't hurt anyone. Sheriff Thompson's a good man and he'll make sure of that. Judge Spencer will be here in a couple of days and once you and Mindy testify he'll get what he deserves. It won't be long before Mindy is with her grandparents and hopefully she can put all of this behind her."
The tracker knew instinctively there was more to it than that. Larabee rarely made long speeches and the fact that he did now, worried the younger man. He watched as the blond unconsciously rubbed his left arm, as if it pained him.
"Chris, what's wrong with yer arm?"
"Huh?" the blond mumbled and looked down at his hand, frowning as he tried to understand what was happening.
"Yer arm?"
"My arm?" he asked, his eyes glazed as he lifted them to meet the sharpshooter's. "Nothing, why?"
"Ya keep rubbing it...lemme see," he ordered, reaching for the blond's arm.
"It's okay, Vin, just itchy," Larabee lied.
"Ya cain't lie worth a damn, Lar'bee!" Tanner snapped.
Chris sat next to the bed and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, wincing as the material peeled away from the small wound. He looked at it and then smiled at his friend.
"Told you it was nothing."
"Don't look like much," the tracker agreed as he probed the wound. "Looks like it could be a mite infected. Better have the doc look at it."
Larabee nodded and rolled his sleeve back down.
"Hungry?" he asked simply.
"Yer kiddin', right?" the tracker answered with a grin.
"I'll see if Molly's got any leftovers," the blond said, moving towards the door.
Vin lifted his head and watched as the gunslinger walked away from his bed. There was something about the slump of the shoulders and the unsteady gait that bothered him. Larabee was usually so graceful when he moved, but today that grace had been replaced by an unknown quality. Something he couldn't quite grasp, but vowed he would figure it out before anything happened.
The crow flew gracefully towards the circle, soaring high above the badlands. It's dark wings spread wide as if to capture the darkness it was seeking. It cawed loudly as it neared its domain. The head swiveled as it gazed upon the land below him. The desert foliage was thick here and it's keen eyesight spotted a gopher below it. It swooped down, hooking the tiny animal with its talons, before flying high in the air, its prey held captive in it's claws. The bird shuddered as the lifeblood flowed from the puncture wounds it caused in the rodent's body. It continued on towards the beckoning circle, dropping the dead gopher without feeding upon its flesh. The crow was satiated by the force of the fear it empowered over its prey and did not need the flesh as its children did. This killing was not about survival, but simply its way of showing dominance over a fellow creature.
It continued on its flight path until it felt the strange tingling sensation provided by the energy emanating from the other demons residing within. The creature was enamored of the lives it destroyed and kept the souls close at hand by burying the body within the walls of its home. The Inn itself would soon rise again, spreading its own dark shadow across the land, but for now it waited for his call. A call that was close at hand and one that was eagerly awaiting to be fed.
The bird dropped gracefully from the sky, the wings becoming arms, the legs elongating and taking human form. The feathers evolving into skin, as the bones strengthened and completed the human shape. The only remaining sign of the crow was the crimson eyes that glowed with an unholy light as the ground around the being began to take on a life of its own once more.
"The time is almost at hand!" the demon whispered, his words bringing the beings he thought of as children before him. Creatures with hideous deformities, and green glowing eyes slithered towards the man they called master. A creature whose heart was as black as the deepest ebony, yet cast a light over the darkened circle that burned the life from anything that entered without his permission.
"He will be brought to us before the next full moon and he will take his place at my side! Rest, my children, for soon we will feast upon the flesh of those who walk this world of light. Their blood will soon fill our bellies, their fears will give us the strength we need. We will soon rejoice in the renewal of our hold upon this land. Sleep, children, and dream of the wonders that are to come," the being said as he spread his hands and a crimson glow was cast across the horizon.
Molly opened the door and smiled at the man standing in front of it. O'Malley held the black bag in his hand, a gift from the grateful citizens of Farmington. The kit was a familiar sign of who this man was, and what his revered place in the community.
"Afternoon, Molly, how's the patient?" O'Malley, asked.
"He's anxious to see you...something about sick and tired of bein' stuck in bed," Molly said with a smile.
"Yeah," the doctor said as he stepped through the door. "He doesn't seem like the type to stay down long."
"Is there anything you need?" the woman asked.
O'Malley smiled as he turned down the hallway, and stopped before the closed door.
"Got any of that Apple pie you made yesterday?"
"I think I might have one piece left..."
"Lemonade?"
"I'll see what I can do," she laughed as he knocked on the door.
Chris sat in the chair beside the window, listening to his friend's soft snores. The younger man seemed so vulnerable with his hands on his arms and his hair spread across the pillow. There was no hint of pain in the slack features and the gunslinger was glad of that. His eyes wandered to the small bandage he'd placed over the wound in his arm and he wondered about he slight burning sensation that came from the puncture site. He wondered if it had anything to do with his lack of energy, but shook it off as a soft rap sounded on the door.
The blond stood and stretched as he made his way across the small room and eased the door open. He smiled at the man standing there and gestured for him to enter.
"Hello, Doc."
"Hi, Chris, how's the patient doing?" the doctor asked.
"He seems better," Larabee said simply.
"F...feels better," the Texan drawled softly, a hint of a smile on his face as he looked at the two men standing over him.
"Well, that's good news at least. Molly says you want to get up."
"Yeah, back's not so bad," Vin explained as he tried to move.
"Now hold on there until I get a chance to take a look!" O'Malley ordered, pulling the chair closer to the bed. He heard a small sound escape the Texan's throat and smiled as he realized the young man was indeed feeling better. He eased the blankets off the tracker's shoulders and moved it down towards his waist.
"Hey!" the younger man said as the covering was lowered and the cool air hit his bare skin.
"This won't take long, Vin, but I need to see if the swelling has gone down," O'Malley explained as he probed the injured area.
Chris stood by the window, watching as the physician explored the area around the Texan's hips. He winced sympathetically when the expert fingers touched a particularly sensitive area, and a muffled curse escaped Tanner's lips.
"Sorry, Vin, but I think you're right. The swelling has gone down some."
"I can git up?" the sharpshooter asked hopefully.
"Well, you can, but not without help. I don't want you doing anything that could re-injure your back."
"Ain't plannin' on..."
"Now, Vin, I know you're not planning on doing anything to hurt it again, but there are a few more things to talk about," O'Malley explained. "I don't want you sitting for long periods of time, start with maybe twenty minutes..."
"Twenty minutes!" the Texan said irritably.
"That's right twenty minutes!" the doctor reiterated. "I have a feeling you won't argue once you've been sitting half that long."
"Damn!" Vin hissed painfully.
"I'm sorry, but back injuries are tricky," O'Malley explained looking from one man to the other.
"He'll do as you say, Doc," Larabee assured the man, smiling at the stubborn Texan as he spoke.
"Make sure he does, Chris. Oh, the sheriff wanted me to tell you he'd like to see you when you get the chance."
"Alright," the gunslinger said as Tanner stared at him.
"The Sheriff?" the Texan inquired with a stifled sigh.
"Probably wants to let us know when Judge Spencer gets here."
"Hope it's soon. Sonofabitch deserves ta hang!" the blue eyes were filled with anger at the thought of Clark's victims.
"He will, Vin," Larabee assured his friend.
Tanner's eyes came to rest on the bandage wrapped around Larabee's left forearm. He could see a tiny circle of crimson in the center of the stark whiteness.
"Chris, Doc oughta look at yer arm," he said softly. The tone told Larabee he'd make a point of forcing the issue if the blond didn't do as he suggested.
O'Malley turned to the gunslinger and frowned as he saw the bandage. "What happened?" he asked simply.
"Don't know," Larabee answered honestly.
The doctor frowned as Larabee turned away from them and seemed engrossed in whatever he was thinking about. He waited a few seconds longer before speaking, hoping more information would be forthcoming from the tight-lipped man.
"Well, let me take a look." O'Malley indicated the gunslinger should sit on the second bed and turned the chair to take care of the wound.
Chris sank gratefully onto the bed, his energy reserve dwindling quickly as he looked into the concerned blue eyes of his best friend. He shook his head imperceptibly, but knew the tracker understood the message that he was okay. He untied the bandage and winced as once more the material was stuck to the wound.
O'Malley looked on in concern and finally reached for the blond's arm. He frowned at the red swollen area and using his finger gently pressed on both sides. A small amount of bloodied puss oozed from the wound and he looked up at the pain filled green eyes.
"When did this happen?" he asked.
"I think it was last night, but I can't be sure," the blond said as the fingers continued to press down on his arm.
"There's a bit of infection here and I'm going to have to clean it properly. Do you need something for pain?" the doctor asked, amazed at the lines of pain on the gunslinger's face.
"N...no," Larabee stammered.
"Alright," the physician said as he reached for a piece of bandage in his bag. He pressed it against the now bleeding wound and stood up.
"You keep pressure on that while I get some fresh water and carbolic," he ordered.
Larabee nodded his head and watched the man leave. He knew instinctively that Tanner was watching him and finally met the steady gaze.
"It's nothing, Vin."
"Then why do ya look like hell?"
"Doc caught me off guard's all," the blond said, smiling as he realized the younger man could see right through his weak assurances.
The two men had never needed words to convey what they were feeling and this was no exception. Chris could tell the Texan didn't believe him for an instant, but was willing to wait until he was ready to explain. Problem was Chris didn't know how to explain what was happening to him, he couldn't even explain it to himself. He looked at the door as O'Malley returned with a basin of water and some clean material.
"Alright, Chris, let's get that cleaned up," the doctor said. He set the container of water on the small table and reaching into his bag for the bottle of carbolic acid he kept there.
Chris held his arm out to he doctor, hiding the pain the movement caused. He felt the doctor cleaning the wound, pressing once more to be sure the infection was cleared out. Again his eyes met the man across the room and he smiled in spite of the worry he saw in the deep blue pools.
I'm fine, he sent.
Sure, so'm I, Tanner sent back.
"Chris, are you sure you don't know how this happened?" O'Malley asked.
"Chris?"
Larabee shook his head and turned towards the doctor.
"Sorry, Doc, what was that?"
"I asked if you were sure you didn't know how this happened?"
"No idea," Larabee told him, as the man wrapped a clean bandage around the wound and tied it off.
"Well, I've cleaned it, but I want you to come see me if it starts to show signs of the infection returning," O'Malley ordered.
"I will, thanks, Doc."
"You're welcome," the physician said and turned back to the other bed. "Do you feel like getting up for a short time?"
"Hell, yeah!" the tracker winced as he tried to sit up.
"Now, I told you to let us help you," O'Malley berated softly. "Chris, Can you give us a hand here?"
Larabee moved to help sit the younger man up. Between them they managed to get the young man seated on the side of the bed and held him in place while beads of sweat formed on the shaking body.
"Let's get you into some clothes," Larabee said.
"Can you two manage on your own, Chris, or do you need my help?" the doctor asked.
"We can handle it," the gunslinger said, watching the tracker closely.
"Alright, then, just holler if you need me," O'Malley said before leaving the two friends alone.
Vin tried to calm his breathing and ignored the sharp talons of pain in his back. He knew the doctor wouldn't allow him to move if it would cause more harm than good, and he was grateful to the strength on his left side. He turned to face the gunslinger and smiled weakly at him.
Neither man spoke as Larabee reached for Tanner's discarded clothing and placed it on the bed beside him.
"You sure you're ready for this?" Larabee asked.
"...think so..." the Texan drawled and reached for his pants. He knew it would be impossible to do this on his own and turned to his friend. He saw the smile and knew the gunslinger understood what was needed.
Chris eased the tracker's long legs into the pants and eased him up on his feet.
"Just hang onto me!" Larabee ordered and felt the strong hands clamp onto his shoulders as he tugged the pant's up over the lean, well muscled thighs and hips. He met the younger man's steady gaze and saw a slight smile on the handsome face.
"What?"
"Good thing Buck ain't here!" the tracker drawled as Larabee's hands eased him back down
Larabee nodded in agreement, realizing his long time friend would find some way to tease the injured man. Buck was a man he'd trust with his life, had done so often in fact, and was alive to prove the trust was well placed. The man also had a tendency to make light jokes and right now he had enough ammunition.
It didn't take long to get the rest of the clothes on the younger man and Chris reached for the well-worn boots. He slipped them onto Tanner's feet and stood up, stretching his own taut muscles before meeting the sharpshooter's eyes.
"Ready?"
The Tanner head bobbed once and reached for his friend's helping hand.
It took the two men five minutes to cover the short distance down the hall to the front porch. They stopped to give the younger man a chance to rest, and Chris wondered if it was such a good idea to move the tracker. He smiled as Molly passed them and held the door open. Once outside in the bright afternoon sunshine all doubts left him as he gazed at his friend. The pain was still evident in the younger man's face, but there was also a look of rapture. Something akin to pure joy in the blue eyes when he was returned to the outside world. It didn't seem to matter that they were in a strange town. Vin Tanner was in his glory, and the pain he endured seemed minor in comparison to the chance to be outside.
"T...thanks," the sharpshooter said once they'd eased him down on the chair.
"You just make sure you let us know when you're ready to go back inside," O'Malley warned as he joined them on the porch.
"I will," the Texan assured him, smiling as Molly Richmond came towards him with a glass of lemonade and a piece of pie.
"Thank ya, Ma'am," he said as he accepted the plate and the woman placed the glass on the railing within his reach.
"That better not be my pie, Molly," O'Malley warned, the grin on his face belying the severity of his words.
"Plenty more where that come from," the woman said and turned to the gunslinger. "Chris, I'll bring you out a piece as well."
"Thanks, Molly. Where's Mindy?" he asked, frowning at the thought of the missing child.
"She's sleeping, Chris," the woman answered.
"Sleeping," Larabee said, his green eyes filled with worry. "Is she okay?"
"She's fine. Just a little tired. I guess everything finally caught up with her and she gave into it."
"You're sure she's okay?" the blond asked.
Molly held his gaze and smiled at the man. She wondered what the sorrow was he kept hidden and knew instinctively this man was once a father. She reached for his arm and gently patted it as she answered.
"Yes, Chris, but if it'll ease your mind you can look in on her yourself."
"N...No, don't want to wake her," Larabee said simply and took a seat in the swing.
"Alright then," she said with a smile. "Come on, Jack, gimme a hand with the pie and I'll see you get an extra big helping."
"Sounds good to me," the doctor said and followed the woman inside.
"You worried about Mindy, Chris?"
"Yeah. Kid's been through a lot."
"Shouldn't have ta go through shit like that at her age."
"No one should," Larabee agreed. The two friends relaxed as they enjoyed the silence and the late afternoon sunshine. Fifteen minutes later, Chris smiled as he realized the quiet would be short lived as he looked towards the end of the street. Tanner's back was to them and he couldn't help but smile as he realized the cavalry had arrived in the form of Wilmington and Standish.
"...riders comin'..." the gunslinger's cool gaze observed. Horses and riders were framed by the late afternoon sunshine, yet Chris could tell both men were exhausted.
"What?"
"Buck and Ezra."
"Where?" Tanner turned towards the street and smiled at the tired looking men. "Damn, they look worse'n I feel."
"They do look a mite sickly," Larabee said as the two peacekeepers dismounted and came towards them.
"Good afternoon, Gentlemen."
"...fellas...," Tanner said, the twinkle in his eyes showing how glad he was to see his friends.
"What are you two doing here?" the blond asked gratefully.
"Well, Hell, Chris, we got your telegram and it said Vin was hurt and witnessed a murder. Me and Ez figured ya might need us to watch your backs," Wilmington said anxiously, his eyes running up and down the lean tracker's body.
"You alright, Vin?" he asked the pale man.
"Yeah, threw out my back," Tanner answered.
"How did you manage such an injury?" the conman asked, sitting next to Larabee in the swing.
"Long story," the tracker told him.
"We got time," Wilmington said, planting himself on the porch rail and wiping the dust from his pants.
Tanner looked up as the door opened and smiled at the owner of the boarding house stepped outside.
"Oh my stars!" she exclaimed as she looked at the two newcomers.
"Howdy, Ma'am," Wilmington said, standing up and doing a graceful bow.
"Good afternoon," Standish greeted a little more formally.
"Molly Richmond, this is Buck Wilmington and Ezra Standish," Larabee introduced the newcomers. "We work together..."
"Hello, Mister Wilmington..." she started.
"It's Buck, Ma'am, and that's Ezra," the scoundrel smiled as he reached for her hand and kissed it gently.
"Oh, Lordy, you're a rake for sure," the woman said with a light laugh.
"Please ignore this charlatan, Ma'am," Standish said, his gold tooth reflecting the bright sunshine as he smiled warmly at the woman.
"Well, that's kinda hard ta do when he's standing right here," the woman said, feeling a slight heat rise to her cheeks as she looked at the bold grin on the rogue's face
"We kin fix that," Tanner said.
"Indeed we can. All it takes is a hot bath to rid him of the ungodly odor he so easily wears," Standish agreed.
"Thanks a lot, boys," Wilmington said, trying, but failing to look offended.
"Well, I got a couple of more pieces of pie if you two would like one," Molly offered.
"I would dearly love to partake of your baking skills, my good woman."
"Please call me Molly, and I'll be right back with the pie and lemonade," the woman said and hurried back inside.
"Now about that long story..." Standish's keen eyes drilled the squirming patient. Then he watched the tracker and the gunslinger exchange a quick glance.
"Alright," Vin said and got comfortable on the chair.
"Look, will ya just shut the hell up for a while?" Thompson snarled as he moved away from his desk and over to the cell housing the prisoner.
"Ain't got no right ta keep me locked up like this. I ain't done nothin' wrong!" James Clark shouted.
"Look, just pipe down until the judge gets here tomorrow or," Thompson warned, turning at the sound of a cold voice behind him.
"Or what?"
"What business is it of yours?" Thompson asked. His eyes quickly taking in the man standing beside his desk. The black suit he wore was well tailored, a white shirt and shoestring tie added to the effect.. The shoes were polished black leather, matching the case in the man's hands. The sheriff looked into the dark eyes and frowned as he saw flecks of red shimmering in the iris. Jet-black hair was combed back from the high forehead, framing the gaunt face. There was something about this man that bothered him, but he couldn't put his hands on what it was.
"That's my client you're threatening and it will stop as of right now!"
"Client? Who the hell are you."
"My name does not concern you, but since it is a necessity if I am to see my client it is C.F. Columber I am a lawyer and have journeyed here to represent Mr. Clark against the slanderous allegations..."
"The what?" Clark interrupted.
"The charges, my good man," the lawyer explained.
"Oh!" Clark said with a grin.
"That's right. I am here to make sure no one takes advantage of you."
"I ain't got no money! The sheriff took it when he put me in here" the murderer confessed.
Columber turned to the lawman, his eyes dark, and his expression hard as he stared at the man.
"The money has been..." the sheriff began, but was cut off by the lawyer's next words.
"Money is not an object when it comes to principles. How have you been treated in this despicable excuse for a jail?" he asked Clark
"He's got the treatment he deserves!" Thompson hissed.
The dark haired man turned his attention back to the sheriff and again a smile formed on the too white face.
"Is that so, Sheriff?"
"Yes, it is!"
"Mr. Clark, have you been fed properly?"
"Are ya kiddin'? The swill they've been feedin' me's not fit fer pigs!" Clark said, pointing to the half finished meal on his cot.
Columber lifted his head and a disgusted look came over his face as he looked at the plate of stew.
"I'm afraid that will not do, Sheriff. From now on my client is to be given proper meals and..."
"Your client is charged with murder..."
"Falsely accused..."
"We got witnesses!" Thompson snapped.
"Ah, witnesses, and I suppose they are completely reliable."
"Yes they are! A lot more than that man in there!"
"We'll see about that, Sheriff. When does the judge arrive?" the lawyer asked.
"He should be here sometime tomorrow!" the lawman answered.
"Good, then if you'll excuse us I wish to speak with my client in private."
Thompson looked at the newcomer with barely constrained anger, before turning and leaving the two men alone.
Clark smiled at the straight-backed figure standing on the other side of the bars.
"Hey, thanks mister..." he froze, his body trembling, his eyes glued to the face before him as the dark eyes seemed to take on a life of their own. He backed up until his legs hit the cot and sank down onto it. His breath caught in his throat as the figure before him undulated, sending puffs of frigid air into his cell.
"W...who are y...you?" he stammered, his breath eerily visible inside the cell.
"You do not need to know my real name, but it is only fitting that you know who holds your soul in his hand."
Clark stared at the man who'd come to defend him, and swallowed painfully, gagging at the foul stench in the air.
"Y...you're..."
"Yes!" the man laughed. "I am here to protect that which belongs to me."
"I...I d...don't..." He stopped as Columber's hand came up and long taloned fingers pointed at his throat. His eyes grew wide as his air supply was effectively cut off and fiery pain seeped into his body. It offered no warmth, just a searing icy cold that attacked his mind as well as his body.
"You don't what? You don't want my help? Well, it's far too late for that since I already own you, body and soul. Rest assured you will hang after your trial, but I am in need of this farce in order to get close to a soul that was stolen from me!"
The figure shimmered and seemed to change before his very eyes. Clark had the distinct impression that he was in the presence of an evil such as he'd never known, and silently prayed as lack of air caused horrific visions. He watched as a smile formed on the face of his benefactor. He screamed as the hand clenched into a fist and his heart felt ready to burst in his chest. Somehow the figure now stood over him, towering above him, it's fetid breath scalding against his face. Its fingers did a light dance over his chest, before continuing up his neck and stopping at his temples. For the first time in his life Clark knew what real fear was. He felt painful tendrils reach into his skull, digging deep into his brain, to the very center that controlled who he was.
"Do not pretend to pray to HIM. He will not come to save you as your evil has taken too many lives. Your soul is mine and if it pleases me I will allow you to stand with me in my army of darkness. If not I will feed you to the legion of demons who will devour your flesh for all eternity!"
N...NO! the outlaw screamed inside his mind, yet the thing before him cackled as it raked a talon across his chest. He felt his mind being invaded by the evil the now pervaded his mind and body. An evil from which there would be no escape. James Clark felt enraptured by the evil he'd served all his life and finally understood that his reward was not all he'd dreamed of. He tried to fight as one final scream echoed through the horses of taloned creatures scurrying through his mind, twisting his features until they were hardly recognizable.
N...NO!
"Yes, my good man," Columber said, releasing his invisible hold on the prisoner as he heard the door open. He smiled inwardly as he realized Clark was totally under his control now, a new puppet whose strings were held within his tight grasp. The murderer would die, but that death would not release him, instead he would be a prisoner of hell for all eternity.
"Time's up!" Thompson hissed at the dark haired man.
"Thank you, Sheriff. My client and I were finished. Right, Mr. Clark?"
"I..." the outlaw choked out, icy fingers touching up against his heart and mind once more. Fear taking control as he wondered how the man was able to be inside his cell yet the doors were locked.
"Y...yeah, Mr. Columber is my...my lawyer." He breathed a sigh of relief as the searing touch left his body.
"Now, Sheriff, I wish to speak with the witnesses who say this poor unfortunate soul is guilty."
"I'll see if I can arrange it," he lawman said.
"See that you do!" the dark haired man said and turned back to his client.
Clark flinched as the dead eyes changed imperceptibly, creating an almost liquid essence of fear in them. He turned away, feeling again the dread that speared his mind and body. He heard the two men talking, but couldn't meet their eyes, as realization dawned on him. This man was evil, and he now possessed his soul. A soft sob formed, but was quickly silenced as Columber's voice hissed in his mind.
You belong to me and I will not abide such open displays of weakness!
Y...yes, Master..." he whispered, knowing to do otherwise would bring an eternity of pain.
"Hell, you two attract trouble as easily as I attract the ladies," Wilmington said, when the harrowing tale was completed.
"How is the child faring?" Standish asked.
"She's scared," Larabee observed.
"But she's brave," Tanner finished, wincing as his back protested his time in the chair.
"Time to go back, Vin," Larabee said, standing and moving towards his friend.
"...think so..." the sharpshooter agreed. He gazed down the street and frowned as the sheriff and another man hurried towards them. There was something in the way the newcomer walked that set of alarms inside the tracker's mind. He felt Larabee standing next to him and knew the gunslinger was also checking out the man walking beside the sheriff.
"Vin?" Wilmington called to the younger man.
"Sheriff's comin'," Tanner advised.
"He can wait!" the gunslinger said, offering a hand to his injured friend. Before the tracker could grasp it the two visitors were at the gate.
"Chris," Thompson called, opening the gate and stepping inside, without holding it for the man with him.
"Sheriff." Larabee looked at the sheriff, but he scrutinized the man standing just behind him. He frowned as his arm began to throb and his vision blurred for an instant.
"Chris, you alright?" the scoundrel asked worriedly.
"Y...yeah," Larabee said as a familiar scent assaulted his nostrils and his eyes began to water.
"Looks like ya need ta git ta bed more'n me!" The sharpshooter frowned as he watched his friend.
"Come on, Pard, let's get you inside," Wilmington suggested, grabbing Larabee's arm and easing him towards the door.
Chris felt weak and didn't have the strength to protest as he leaned on the ladies man.
"Ezra, s...stay with Vin!" the gunslinger warned sharply, and was glad to see the gambler nod in agreement.
Buck led the ill man into the house and followed Larabee's pointing finger. His fear for his friend's well being intensified as the blond continued to lean against him. He saw Molly out of the corner of his eye as they passed the kitchen.
"What's wrong?" the woman asked as she looked up from the table where she was peeling potatoes.
"Chris don't feel very well," Wilmington answered and was glad to see the doctor was still at the house.
"Let me help you," O'Malley offered as he came out of the kitchen and helped support the nearly unconscious man.
Chris welcomed the strength of the two men as his own seemed to have left him completely. His body felt weighed down as they placed him on the bed. His eyes closed and he sank into a nightmare world where birds with crimson eyes and long claws slashed at him. Where voices screamed at him to help them from twisted, ravaged mouths sunk in sightless skulls. A place where his friends could not reach him and hell was his alone.
Buck watched as the doctor began examining the unconscious man. He knew from Vin and Chris that this man was good at what he did, but in his heart he wished Nathan Jackson was there as well. Damn, Chris, what's wrong with ya? he thought.
"Vin, this is Clark's lawyer C.F. Columber," Thompson explained.
Standish and Tanner both heard the undercurrent of dislike in the sheriff's voice. Something about the darkly dressed man set wrong with both men. Without a word the gambler quickly moved to stand beside the tracker's chair.
Vin looked the newcomer in the eyes, noting the empty black depths seemed devoid of life, yet flecks of red warred for dominance in the irises. Something about the newcomer didn't sit right, but the tracker was suddenly unable to think straight. The sharpshooter felt as if the man was seeing through him, deep into his mind and heart, to the core of his soul. A secret place where everything he ever done or faced in life resided. He squirmed in the chair as their eyes locked in a mortal embrace, one he had to win, yet knew instinctively he could not. The man standing before him wreaked of an evil essence that soon had the young man nauseated. He fought to turn away from the gaze, before the evil could take control of who he was. He sucked air through clenched teeth as he hissed.
"That animal murdered that poor woman," Tanner rasped, clutching the arms of the chair in anger. "...and that ain't all he done t'her."
"Mr. Tanner, I will not have you insulting my client's good name when he is not here to defend himself..."
Vin's anger got the best of him and he tried to rise out of the chair. Columber's hand steadied him and the tracker's eyes widened as pain erupted along the nerves in his back. He cried out as he sat back in the chair, his breath coming in painful gasps as Standish moved in beside him.
"Vin!" the gambler's worried gaze took in the white face, the beads of sweat on the handsome face, and the tightly clenched eyes and mouth. He glared at the newcomer and shoved his hand off the sharpshooter's arm, hissing as he felt an icy fire race through his fingers.
"Mr. Tanner, I'm sure you understand that my client..."
"...is a fuckin' ani..." his words were cut off as pain erupted once more. Thick, cloying darkness began to close over him, taking with it any protests he wanted to make. He could hear his friend talking to him, but Standish's words fell on deaf ears as he succumbed to his body's demand for relief.
"It's time for you to leave, Mr. Columber!" Standish hissed as the sheriff moved in to help support the sagging body in the chair.
"I was simply doing my job," the devil whispered beguilingly, his voice soft, yet holding an icy depth that caused the gambler's body to shiver in spite of the warmth of the day.
"I'm afraid your job is despicable if you're aiming to free that murderer," Standish said. He looked up as the door opened and Buck Wilmington stepped outside.
"What the hell happened?" he asked as he saw the two men supporting an unconscious Vin Tanner in the chair.
"I'm not sure," the conman said, diverting his gaze from the lawyer. "He was suddenly in agony and passed out."
"Let's get him in to the doc," Wilmington suggested and took over from the sheriff.
Columber turned a cold gaze on the sheriff, before moving out into the street. His eyes glowed a deep scarlet as he thought of the things he'd found out by simply touching the sharpshooter's arm.
Thompson stood frozen for a second as icy tendrils crawled down his spine. Quickly shaking them off, he turned to follow the newcomer only to find the street deserted and as cold as he felt inside.
O'Malley tucked the blanket around his patient, before standing and stretching, to ease the kinks from his back. His examination of Chris Larabee uncovered nothing that could explain the man's unconscious state. The wound in the arm was still showing signs of infection, but that didn't explain why Larabee's skin felt cold and clammy.
Hope the hell it's not some new disease, he thought. The door opened, revealing Vin Tanner supported between the two newcomers.
"Put him on the bed," the physician ordered. He watched as the men eased the young tracker down, amazed at the care and tenderness they showed.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Clark's lawyer showed up and Vin became agitated while they were conversing. He tried to stand up and passed out," Standish explained as the doctor moved in to examine his second patient.
"I told Vin no longer than twenty minutes. This back injury is nothing to fool with and he needs to rest," the doctor explained.
"Vin was fine until Columber placed his hand on him. That's when he gasped in pain and passed out," the gambler stated.
"Ez, are you sayin' the lawyer did something to Vin?" Wilmington asked.
"Yes...no...I don't know, Buck, but something's just not right here," the conman said, as he looked from one unconscious man to the other.
"Yeah. I think you're right about that, Ez..."
"Gentlemen," O'Malley interrupted Wilmington. "I need your help here."
"What do ya need, Doc?" the ladies man asked.
"I need you to help turn Vin over so I can get a look at his back. Ezra, go ask Molly for some hot water and towels," the physician ordered.
"Right away, Doctor," Standish said and hurried form the room.
"Alright, Buck, I need you to support his shoulders for me."
The two men eased the injured sharpshooter onto his stomach. Buck winced as he heard a gasp escape from his friend, yet he knew the young man was still unconscious.
O'Malley lifted the shirt and gently probed the area. There were still signs of swelling, but he didn't think it was any worse than the last time he'd examined this patient. He looked up as Standish entered, a basin in his hand and a towel thrown over his shoulder. The doctor could tell the younger man was worried, yet he couldn't ease either man's fears for their friend's well being. Something strange was happening to the two men, but what it was he didn't know. He could treat the wounds he saw, but he knew there was nothing he could do for the wounds he couldn't see.
"Put the basin on the table," the doctor ordered. He watched as the gambler did as he was asked and took the towel. He placed it in the water and smiled as he realized Molly Richmond had the water at the right temperature.
"What are you going to do, Doctor?" Standish asked.
"I'm gonna put hot towels on his back to ease the tension. His muscles are tight here and I'm hoping if we can help him relax the problem will ease off before he wakes up." O'Malley placed the towel on Tanner's back and eased back in his chair.
"How long before we know if it helps?" the ladies man asked.
"It may take an hour or so, but we need to keep this up for a couple of hours. I've got a couple of people I need to check on, but I'm confident you two can handle this," the physician told them as he stood up and turned his attention to the second man.
"What about Chris?" Standish asked.'
"Except for the wound on his arm I can see no reason he's unconscious. I've done all I can for him. The wound in his arm is the only thing I can see wrong with him yet he's unconscious. When he wakes up make sure he eats something. He's been sick a couple of times, so I'm going to ask Molly to make him something light..."
"Oh, Hell, Chris'll love that," Wilmington said of Larabee's fondness of the light meals.
"Well, I want you to make sure he gets some fluids into him and get him to eat. He needs to build up his strength again," the doctor explained.
"Doctor, what are you not telling us about Mr. Larabee's condition?" the gambler asked as he watched the expressions on the older man's face.
O'Malley looked into he inquisitive green eyes of the brown haired man and knew instinctively this man could easily read him. He looked down at Larabee's still form and shook his head.
"Look, I don't really know any more than I've told you. Anything else is just guess work on my part..."
"Doc, what do you think is going on?" the ladies man interrupted.
"If I were to hazard a guess I'd say it has something to do with the mark on his arm. There's a mild infection in it, but Chris doesn't have any fever. If anything he seems too damn cold. I want you to keep him covered...it's the only thing you can do for him right now. I'll be back to change the bandage on his arm and check on Vin's back later today. If there's any problems before then come get me."
"We will, Doc," Wilmington said as Standish settled in to take care of the tracker. He watched the doctor leave the room and pulled a second chair up to Larabee's bed. What's going on with you two, Chris? he thought as he tucked the blankets around the sleeping man.
The two peacekeepers kept a silent vigil over their friends. They lost track of time until Molly came into the room with a dinner tray. She smiled at the ladies man and the gambler as she placed it on the table between the two beds.
"How are they doing?" she asked.
"There's no change," Wilmington said.
Molly nodded as she looked from one bed to the other. She felt a chill deep inside as her gaze came to rest no the lean gunslinger. Something about this man touched her heart, and she knew there was a fight coming his way. She looked at the tracker and knew if anyone could help him with that fight it was him. The other two men would be involved, but Vin Tanner would be the man who could save Chris Larabee. Of that, she was certain as she turned and left the room.
"Ez..."
"Yes..."
"Do you really think Columber had something to do with what's happening to Vin?"
"There's something about that cretin I don't trust. I think it would be prudent if we make sure he doesn't get close to Chris or Vin."
Buck nodded as he helped himself to one of the plates of Stew and biscuits.
"Yeah, I don't trust him either. Hopefully the trial won't last long and we'll leave this place and Columber behind."
Standish picked up his plate and settled in to watch over the two men.
The dream was so real, fire and ice chilled him to the bone. Red eyes and elongated fingers dominated the tiny room. He fought against there hold on him, but there didn't seem to be any way to escape the deadly mass of demonic souls. He screamed as something invaded his mind, an evil so cruel it cast him into a spiralling vortex of hatred and rage.
You belong to me!
No!
The more you fight the more rewarding this will be for me. A soul as strong as yours is worth many hours of torment. Yours is strong and will become a part of me once the earthly body has given up the fight. Keep fighting and you shall take your rightful place at my side. We will be strong, especially after you bring me the souls of your friends...
No! I won't...I can't... His protest was weak and met with demonic laughter as icy shards touched his inner core, chilling him to the bone. He struggled to awaken, to escape the horror of his nightmares, but something seemed to follow him. He knew to release the evil into the world would mean the death of everything and everyone. He fought to leave the evil behind, ignoring the hot talons that raked across his nerves. He felt the evil reluctantly release him yet, something followed him into the waking world. Two words he'd grown familiar with, yet couldn't remember why the tormented voices were calling to him.
Help us!
"....Chris..."
Standish smiled as the tracker opened his eyes and looked across the room. Darkness had completely enveloped the world and he was alone with the two men. Molly Richmond was a wonderful lady and Buck Wilmington was now sleeping on the couch in the living room. He placed a hand on Tanner's shoulder as the young man tried to sit up.
"That would not be advisable right now, My Friend," the gambler said.
Vin turned his head and met the worried green eyes of the man sitting beside his bed. He vaguely remembered the arrival of the two men, but couldn't grasp anything else. His back throbbed as the conman eased a new towel onto it, but the heat eased his aching muscles and he smiled.
"Ez, what happened to Chris?"
"Mr. Larabee is going to be fine."
The words did little to alleviate the tracker's worries as he watched Larabee's face. Something bothered him about the way the other man seemed to be curled into the blankets, as if trying to ward off the cold. Vin knew Chris didn't mind the cold as much as he did. Somehow this bothered him even more since the air seemed uncannily warm to him.
"Vin, he will be okay," the gambler aid reassuringly.
"Thanks," the younger man said gratefully as Larabee's eyes began to flicker.
Standish noticed the change as well and moved to the second bed. He placed a hand on Larabee's shoulder and watched as the sea-green eyes opened and tried to focus.
Chris blinked rapidly to rid himself of the double image standing beside his bed. The vision of Ezra Standish and the flashing gold tooth was a welcome one. The nightmare receded with the warmth of the other man's smile and he tried to sit up.
"How do you feel?" the gambler asked.
Larabee frowned as he tried to formulate an answer. He felt fine except for the chill he seemed to have caught.
"Cold," he answered.
"I thought that was Mr. Tanner's problem," Standish said as he eased the blanket s back over the gunslinger.
"V...Vin," Larabee stammered as he turned his gaze on the other bed.
"Are you okay?" the blond asked.
"Fine...you?" the sharpshooter answered.
The gunslinger pulled the blankets tightly around his trembling body, wondering why he felt so cold.
"Think so. What time is it?" he asked.
"It's two thirty in the morning and you two need to go back to sleep," Standish said.
"Hell, Ez, slept 'nough," the tracker said as he shifted on the bed. He was surprised by the lack of pain in his back. There was still a dull ache, but the agonizing torment he remembered was gone.
"Well, Mrs. Richmond was kind enough to leave something for both of you to eat..."
"Good...I'm starved," the tracker said.
"Mr. Larabee, would you like something to eat?" Standish asked.
"N...no," Larabee answered as he felt the call of sleep once more. He heard the two men talking softly and knew they were worried about him. Why am I so damned tired? he thought as he followed the cold trail into his troubling dreams once more.
Buck opened the door and looked in, surprised to see Standish whispering softly to the injured tracker. He moved quietly into the room and nodded to both men before turning his gaze towards the man in the second bed. Larabee was turned away from them, the blankets wrapped tightly around him as he slept. Once he was sure the blond was resting comfortably, he moved to the other bed.
"How are you feeling, Vin?" he asked.
"Better," the Texan answered softly.
"Ya look a mite better too. Molly's just makin' breakfast and she sent me to tell you she'd bring it in here for you and Chris."
"Tell her I'm okay. Jest need help gettin' dressed," the tracker told him.
"You sure?" the ladies' man asked, not at all convinced that the younger man was ready to move around again.
"Yeah." He looked from one man to the other before continuing. "I need ta be able ta move 'round if'n that judge gits here taday."
"Ez, gimme a hand to get him dressed before you go eat."
"Certainly," Standish said and moved to the opposite side of the bed. The two friends eased Tanner up until he was sitting on the side of the bed. They watched as Larabee stirred and rolled towards them, his eyes slowly opening as he pushed the blankets away from his body.
"Hey, Chris, how're you feeling?" Wilmington asked.
Larabee frowned at the question, wondering why the scoundrel asked him that. He shifted on the bed and slid his legs over the side before answering.
"I'm fine." He turned his attention to the injured man. "Vin?"
"I'm okay, Chris." The tracker studied the blond for a few seconds, seeing the pain flicker behind the sea-green eyes, before the older man reached for his pants and pulled them on.
"Smells like Molly's making flapjacks and bacon," Larabee said, his stomach growling in anticipation.
"She is, Chris and she's got that little ray of sunshine helpin' her out."
Chris smiled at Buck's apt description of Mindy Lawrence. They were hoping to receive word from Mindy's grandparents as to when they'd be arriving. Larabee knew the child needed them, now more than ever with the trial so close at hand. He finished dressing as Buck and Ezra continued to help the tracker.
"Ya sure you're up for this, Vin?" Wilmington asked.
"Ain't nothin' gonna stop me!" Tanner answered with a grin. He stood up, only to glad to have the scoundrel's steadying hand on his arm.
"Glad to see there's nothing wrong with your appetite," Standish said as he held the door open. "After you!" he said, bowing courteously.
"Thanks, Ez!" the sharpshooter smiled as they made their way slowly down the hall towards the kitchen.
Mindy looked up from where she was putting plates on the table. She smiled as the three men walked into the room, but her eyes lit up as the fourth man stood framed in the doorway.
"Chris!" she called as she put the dishes down and hurried towards her.
Larabee smiled as he plucked the child from the floor and her arms wrapped around his neck. He felt her tighten her grip as he saw the other men help Vin into one of the chairs. He felt her hold loosen as she pulled back slightly and looked at him.
"Are you okay?" she asked him, frowning as she looked at his face.
"I'm just fine, Honey," the blond answered as he walked to the table.
"Good, 'cause I was scared you was sick. You slept longer than Bruno did..."
"Bruno?" Larabee asked her.
"Yeah. He was a big ol' dog we had when I was little. He slept lots like you and Vin did and he...he," she started to cry and Chris pulled her into a tight embrace once more.
Chris knew the others were watching him with the child, but didn't take the time to acknowledge it. He felt her trembling sobs and wished she didn't have to testify at the trial. His eyes met those of the sharpshooter and he saw the same concern in the soft blues. He nodded slightly as he reached up and ran his fingers through the soft brown hair.
Mindy lifted her head and tried to stop the tears. Her little girl's mind told her crying was for babies, but her heart told her she needed to let the tears fall. She finally met the green eyes of the man holding her and a small smile formed as his fingertips wiped the evidence from her cheeks.
"I w...want to go h...home," she hiccupped softly.
Chris felt his heart breaking at her words and pulled her tight. His right hand again held her head to his shoulder as the sobs grew in volume. He knew she needed to do this, everybody did. His gaze quickly fell on Wilmington and he knew the other man was seeing a time in the past. A time when Chris Larabee had finally let down his barriers and cried out his pain. Although neither man knew it at the time, the tears he shed that cold December day was the beginning of the healing process for him. They'd parted ways the next day and a piece of him often wondered why he hadn't told Buck he was sorry for the things he'd said and done. A part of his subconscious had realized he needed some time alone, time to let the wounds heal before his life could be whole again.
The time after Sarah and Adam's deaths were some of the blackest times of his life. A time where his soul could've been lost forever, but salvation soared hopeful in the sky eyes of the Texan. The young man seemed to understand his own need for privacy, yet they'd probably never be able to keep anything secret from each other again. A gift was given to them that day, one that seemed to give them both what they'd been missing. A brother, not by blood, but by destiny and need. The need for a soul that mirrored the others needs. The look on Buck's face told him he understood, and he smiled at the scoundrel as he held the girl close.
"We'll make sure you get home," Chris vowed as she settled against him, her arms clinging tightly to his neck. He held her as Molly placed platters of flapjacks, biscuits, and bacon on the table. A thick jug of syrup, a pot of coffee and several cups soon followed. He felt Mindy lift her head once more and again he wiped the red-rimmed eyes.
"Feel better?' he asked softly and smiled as the brown head nodded vigorously. He eased her onto the chair beside him and accepted a cup of coffee from the gambler.
"Thanks, Ez," he said as he sipped the strong, flavorful brew. He put the cup back down and without realizing it rubbed at the bandage covering the wound on his arm.
"You're welcome," Standish said and helped himself to a plate of breakfast.
"Hungry, Vin?" Wilmington asked as he watched the tracker pile the food on his plate.
"...yep...' the Texan answered as he added another flapjack to his plate.
"Are you eating, Chris?" Molly asked as she watched the gunslinger rub at his arm. She knew by the look on his face it was bothering him, but decided against saying anything until after the meal was over. She trembled as she remembered the feeling of foreboding that crept over her when she'd seen him in the street. This man had a fight coming his way, one that dealt with things beyond her imagination, beyond this world. Whether he won or lost would depend on the men seated around the table, and their willingness to believe in the unbelievable. To act without questioning their own sanity. To go beyond the normal things in life and see past the damper that was put on the human mind. Her own sanity was questioned often enough when she was a child and she'd learned to keep her thoughts and dreams to herself.
"Molly, darlin' are you alright?" Wilmington asked, as the woman seemed to pale before him.
"Huh? What?" the woman asked as she came back to the present and stared into the pools of liquid blue set in the handsome face seated across the table.
"I asked if you were okay?"
She smiled warmly at the scoundrel as she reached for a plate. She knew there was nothing she could do to help them. She could not warn them of what lay ahead, as she didn't know exactly what was going to happen.
"I'm fine, Buck, just daydreaming. Ain't nothin' else a woman can do with four handsome men to keep her company," the woman said mischievously, smiling warmly as the gunslinger picked up a plate and began helping himself to the heaping platters of food. Eat now, Chris Larabee, Lord knows you'll need the strength for the trials ahead of you, she thought.
They ate in silence, lost in their own thoughts of what lay ahead. According to the sheriff Judge Spencer would arrive sometime later in the day. The trial would probably start the following day and that's when things would be rough for Mindy Lawrence and Vin Tanner. They would have to relive what happened when they were forced to answer the questions put forth by James Clark's lawyer.
Molly finished eating and began clearing the table. Mindy's melancholy seemed to have left her, and for that the woman was glad. Children had an ability to forget easily, yet she knew the events of the last week would remain with her for the rest of her life.
"Vin?" Larabee spoke the name softly as Mindy moved to help the older woman clear the table.
"Yeah?"
"You Want to go outside for a while?"
"Y...yeah," the sharpshooter answered.
"Ez, you give Chris a hand to get Vin outside. I'll help the ladies clean up," Wilmington suggested.
"Now you go on outside with the others, Buck. Mindy and me can handle this. Right Mindy?" Molly asked, placing her hands on her hips.
"Right!" the child said as she imitated the woman's actions and placed her tiny hands on her hips.
"Are ya sure?" the scoundrel asked.
"Get yourself outside!" Richmond ordered.
Buck bowed at the waist, causing the child to burst into laughter as he smiled at them.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said and cupped Mindy's cheek in his right hand. He turned to see Larabee and Tanner walking slowly towards the door, Standish following closely behind.
Once outside, Chris helped the tracker into the swing before turning towards the street. He knew Wilmington and Standish would look after the younger man while he checked for messages at the hotel.
"I'm gonna see if there's any messages from Mindy's grandparents. Come get me if the judge or sheriff shows up," Larabee told the three friends.
"We will," Wilmington said, sitting on the step and watching the lean man walk slowly out the gate. Something about the way the gunslinger walked reminded Buck of another time, another place and he prayed Larabee wasn't headed for the bottle again.
Chris could feel the three men watching him and he fought the urge to rub the wound on his arm. He flexed his fingers and hoped the tingling numbness was not a sign that something was wrong with his arm. He made his way to the hotel and stepped inside just as Tilly was coming out of the office.
"Ah, Mr. Larabee I was just comin' ta see you. I've got an answer from Saint Louis for you. The wires have been down and this only just got through," the woman said, handing him the slip of paper with the missive on it.
Leaving immediately...Thank you for watching over Mindy....Rupert Lawrence.
The judge had already communicated with the child's grandparents. As her next of kin, they would be needed for the trial, due to her status as a minor. The gunslinger hoped that the couple showered Mindy with the love and care she needed.
"Thank you, Ma'am," the blond said, tipping his hat to her.
"I'm sorry it took so long to get the answer, Mr. Larabee," she told him.
Larabee nodded as he made his way back to the boarding house. He stopped in the middle of the street as he felt someone watching him. An icy touch seemed to wrap around him, sucking the air from his lungs. He turned towards the jail, frowning as he saw the man framed in the doorway. He recognized him as the man who'd been with Hank Thompson the day before, yet he couldn't remember hearing the name. The man's hand was held straight out in front of him and his finger seemed to be pointing straight at the gunslinger. Chris gasped for air as he turned he locked eyes with the newcomer, yet he would not release the hypnotic glare. The man's eyes glowed red and he remembered the nightmare world of his dreams since his arrival in Farmington. This man was the center point of his trouble, yet how or why he didn't know, but he would find out.
Chris felt the world around him fading and the beaconing fires of hell rising up to engulf him. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his heart beat rapidly in his chest. His eyes continued to lock forces with the newcomer as the heat of the day grew into epidemic proportions and the town began to fade before his eyes.
Columber smiled as he pointed his finger at the man standing in the middle of the street. He knew he could kill him with a simple flick of his hand, but that would not give him what he wanted, what he craved. A man's soul was stronger when given freely, and Chris Larabee would do just that when the time came. He admired the blond haired gunslinger as the intense green eyes seared into his own red ones. He knew this man was a born leader and would add strength to his own forces.
"Mr. Columber?"
He continued to force his evil influence on the dark clad man, ignoring the voice from behind him. He knew he'd have to release his hold or risk Larabee collapsing in the middle of the street. Reluctantly he turned away from his victim and turned a cold glare on the sheriff.
Chris sucked in air as the town shimmered and solidified before his eyes. The vacuum he'd been trapped in disappeared and an abundance of honeysuckle scented air entered his body. His grateful lungs burned as the oxygen his body craved cleared his mind and pushed back the blurred vision. He watched as the man in the doorway disappeared inside, taking with him the chill that seemed to permeate the air around him. His gaze swept over the dust-covered street as two familiar words drifted past him on a soft breeze.
Help us!
Jesus, Larabee, what the fuck's wrong with you? he chided.
The gunman waited for his legs to stop trembling and slowly moved down the street. The whispered words reverberated through his mind as he sought their meaning.
PHOENIX
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