They'd been riding all day when the sky opened up and the rains began again. Thunder echoed across the landscape, bouncing off the hills and rolling through the darkening clouds above them. Lightning streaked from horizon to horizon, dazzling in its kaleidoscope of images. The ground quickly became muddy and the horses were having a difficult time trekking through the mire. Three pairs of concerned eyes strayed to their leader as the day wore on and Larabee seemed to wilt in the saddle. Neither man said a word as their friend continued to lead them towards home.
Chris knew the others were watching him, but he was too worn out to acknowledge them. Since the rain began he felt the annoying itch at the back of his throat and the tightness in his chest that signaled he was not as well as he thought. He fought the urge to cough, knowing Jackson would insist they find a place to hole up until the rains ended. He wanted to get as much distance between himself and Haven as possible. The town itself held nothing but painful memories for the gunslinger and his hand automatically reached for his throat as a soft cough escaped. He kept ahead of the others and pulled his duster around his shivering body. He was cold, not as cold as he'd been before coming to Abigail Newman's home, but cold enough that his body trembled as if it had a mind of it's own.
Nathan watched the gunslinger with healer's eyes. He could tell the blond was not himself as they put more distance between themselves and the nightmare he'd survived in Haven. He knew beyond a doubt he should have made Larabee stay for another few days, but the storm had come out of nowhere. He watched as Standish rode ahead until he was alongside the ailing man. He turned his head sideways and saw his own worry and fears emblazoned on the tracker's face.
"Nathan!" Tanner shouted above the violent, stormy world they found themselves trapped in. "We need ta git somewhere dry. Chris ain't lookin' good!"
"I know! But it's still half a days ride to Four Corners and just as far back to Haven! Is there anyplace...a cave...shack...someplace to hole up?"
"Not that I know of!" the tracker shouted, the words nearly drowned out by the rendering crack of thunder high above their heads. He looked around and tried to find familiar landforms in the frightening world that now surrounded them. A rock formation was instantly lit up by a flash of blue white lightning and he smiled at the man who rode alongside him.
"What?" Jackson asked as Larabee wilted in the saddle and Standish caught him before he fell to the ground. The two men rushed forward until they were alongside the gunslinger and the gambler.
Vin dismounted and grabbed the blond from his saddle.
"Easy, Chris, I got ya!"
"I'm okay, Vin...need..." he tried and wrapped his arms around his chest as a series of harsh coughs left his throat. He felt Tanner's arms holding him up as his legs gave out.
"Vin, we need to get him somewhere warm and dry!" Jackson yelled above the deafening roar of wind and rain. He knew Standish was holding their horses in order to keep the skittish animals from bolting.
Chris struggled towards the unfamiliar horse he'd been riding, but the sharpshooter's strong arms held him in place. He winced as the stinging needles of rain struck the exposed skin on his face and hands. He shivered uncontrollably now, the chill seeping deep under his skin to wrap itself around his bones.
"Ain't no way he's gonna be able to ride to Four Corners!" Jackson observed as he heard the haggard wheezing from the gunslinger.
"We're just south of Miss Nettie's place! We can be there in an hour, two at the most!"
Larabee knew they were talking about making the detour because of him, but he wanted to get home, to be around people he knew. Nettie Wells and her niece were known to him, but he wanted to be in his own room, sleeping in his own bed.
"Come on!" he hissed, his throat raw and scratchy as he called to his friends.
"Chris, ya nearly fell off the damn horse once! Ain't gonna do ya no good ridin' on yer own!" Tanner shouted above the storm.
"Not staying out in this, Tanner!" he shouted and climbed into the saddle and aimed the horse in the direction of the town they called home.
Standish handed the reins to the two men and quickly rode after the fleeing man. He knew Tanner and Jackson were already mounted and chasing after him. Chris Larabee could be one of the most stubborn men when he wanted to, but this time stubbornness would not be enough. He saw the horse ahead of him rear up on its hindquarters as a streak of lightning struck a tree nearby, sending sparks into the air before they were extinguished by the torrential downpour.
"Chris!" he shouted as the dark figure was thrown backwards, landing in a heap on the muddy ground and lay still. Ezra pulled Red to a stop and hurried to the gunslinger's side. He knew the man was unconscious before he looked at his face. He looked up into the pelting rain as Tanner and Jackson pulled to a stop beside him.
Jackson quickly examined the unconscious man and turned to look at the tracker. Rain dripped off the man's hat, making it impossible to see the blue eyes, yet he sensed the sharpshooter's worry.
"Vin, you're gonna have to carry him!"
"Alright...is he okay?"
"Can't say for sure right now! He's out cold and he's still shivering! We need to get him to Miss Nettie's place!"
"Okay...just hand him up ta me!" The sharpshooter mounted up and waited for the healer and the gambler to lift Larabee's limp body up to him. He settled the unconscious form on the saddle in front of him and eased the gunslinger back against his chest. He waited for Jackson and Standish to mount up and once more the four men headed into the storm.
Nettie Wells stood on her front porch, a hot cup of tea in her hands as she watched the magnificent display being put on by Mother Nature. She loved storms, had always been fascinated to see the lightning and hear the thunder that often accompanied the heavy rains. This storm was one of the worst she'd experienced since moving west with her husband. The years had been good to her and the farm they'd started was paid in full because of seven men. The peacekeepers from Four Corners were successful in taking down Guy Royal and he would not be bothering anyone else. The railroad was going to go through, and it would not interfere with her home. She sighed heavily and wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as the door opened behind her, smiling at the young woman who joined her.
"Aunt Nettie, I finished the dishes," her niece said.
"That's good, Casey," Nettie Wells said, placing her empty cup on the chair.
"Want me to get you more tea?" the young girl asked.
"No, thanks, Child. Let's just watch the storm for a while," the older woman said, the rain dropping at a slant that kept it from beating in on them.
"I love storms. Everything seems so fresh after they are over," Casey told her.
"You get that from me," Nettie laughed. "I've never had a fear of them."
"But lightning is so dangerous!"
"It can be, but not if you're real..."
"Aunt Nettie, what's wrong?" Casey asked as the elderly woman stopped mid sentence and stared out at the storm swept landscape.
"Someone's comin'!" she squinted into the rain. "Looks like three or four. Get my carbine!"
Casey hurried into the house and grabbed the Spencer carbine and a box of shells. She hurried back outside and handed the shotgun to her aunt and opened the box of shells. She handed two to the aged hands and watched as they quickly inserted the shells into the weapon.
"Who is it?"
"I don't know, Casey, but I don't aim to take any chances. Now you git on back inside and stay there 'til I tell ya otherwise," the woman said, holding the gun in both hands.
"But..."
"No buts, Casey, I'd rather not have ta worry about you getting in the line of fire if it comes ta that. Now git inside!" she ordered and breathed a sigh of relief when the young woman did as she was told. She watched the approaching riders advance with each flash of lightning, a mixture of fear and worry evident in her stance.
Chris struggled to open his eyes, his body shivering uncontrollably as he fought to stay warm. His eyes remained closed, but flashes of light penetrated as the storm continued in all its fury. Thunder rattled across the sky, echoing through the low lying hills and slamming into his pounding skull. He groaned and tried to sit up further, only to find two strong arms holding him in the saddle.
"Easy, Chris, I got ya!"
"V...Vin?" he called, trying to force his voice above the roaring wind and rain.
"Yeah, it's me. How're ya feelin'?"
"Cccc...old," the blond stammered through chattering teeth.
"I bet. Why don't ya lean back on me and we'll git ya inside and warmed up real soon."
"I...I'm okay," the gunman mumbled, but automatically leaned against the well-muscled chest behind him. He closed his eyes and felt the dampness clear to the core of his being. He knew he was sick again, but he didn't want to give into it. Forcing his body upwards again he heard a curse from the man he rode with.
"Yer a stubborn mule ya know that, Lar'bee?"
"Www...where...are...wwweee?"
"Almost at Miss Nettie's place," Tanner explained as Jackson and Standish joined them.
"Is he awake, Vin?" the healer asked.
"Yeah, he is and bein' his ol' ornery self," the tracker shouted.
"How long before we reach Mrs. Wells place?" the former slave asked.
"Should be just over that ridge," Tanner answered, renewing his grip on the sagging body in front of him. He felt the man's heaving chest and knew Larabee was sicker than he'd let on.
"Hang on, Cowboy, not long now!" he said as he spurred the horse towards the friendly house he knew was nearby.
"...okay..." Larabee whispered, moaning as the thunder pounded against his skull once more.
They reached the ridge and topped it a few minutes later. The sight that met their eyes was a welcoming warmth that drove some of the chill from their bones. Nettie Wells' small house was well lit and the door stood open. Vin could make out two people standing against the backdrop of the light spilling from the doorway.
"I'll ride ahead and let her know what's happening," Standish explained, spurring Red towards the home.
"Lord have mercy!" Nettie said, recognizing the lone rider as he came into the yard and the lightning lit up horse and man. "Casey, git the kettle boilin' and warm up the leftover stew!"
"Who is it, Aunt Nettie?" the girls voice was muffled through the partially open door.
"Mr. Standish just rode in," Nettie explained as the waterlogged man dismounted and looped the reins over the hitching post.
"Mrs. Wells, I hate to intrude on you during this despicable tempest, but Mr. Larabee is feeling under the weather," Standish said.
"Where is he? Is that him coming in there?" Nettie asked.
"Indeed it is. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Tanner are accompanying him."
"Tell them to bring him on in!" Nettie snapped as she hurried inside. "Casey, put those rocks on the stove and git them warmin'."
"What's wrong?" the girl asked worriedly.
"It looks like we'll be havin' some company for a spell. Mr. Larabee has taken ill. I'm gonna make up your bed and you can sleep with me until he's feelin' better." She didn't wait for an answer as she hurried into Casey's bedroom and pulled the blankets off the bed.
TBC