Chapter Two - Waiting for Battle

Chris checked his watch. Almost four hours had passed and fortunately there had been no sign of Oberoth and his gang. During this time, Carson and Teyla had busied themselves boiling bandages and other items in case they were needed, while Ronon, Sheppard and himself had worked out a reasonable strategy for defence. McKay had hovered about until Carson had set him to work fetching and carrying, though even then he seemed more of a hindrance than a help.

The noise of horsemen approaching drew his attention, and he smiled grimly as his fellow lawmen appeared over the rise.

After quick introductions, he explained the plan and sent Vin out to keep a watch from the hillside and warn them when the Oberoth's gang came into sight.

Buck took his chance during the introductions to approach the lovely Ms Emmagan.

"Perhaps," he said, putting on his most charming smile, "When all this is over, you and I could go for a ride, maybe take a picnic?"

"I am sorry, Mr Wilmington…"

"Please, call me Buck."

"Buck," she said, with a slight incline of the head. "I am sorry, but the work required to fix the farm will not allow for any picnics."

"But surely you won't be working all the time?"

"There is much to do and I intend to pull my weight," she insisted.

"Well, maybe when things are more settled?" he suggested hopefully.

"I fear I may be busy for some time, Mr… Buck," she replied with a serene smile, before walking away, head held high.

"Looks like you're losing your touch," JD chimed in from beside him. "First Inez and now Miss Emmagan."

He scowled as the boy. "On the contrary, this dance has only just begun," he said, a dreamy smile crossing his face as he watched Ms Emmagan talking to Sheppard.

"Sure," JD said disbelievingly, and Buck turned and knocked the boy's hat off. "Hey!"

Nathan noticed the readied bandages and a pan of water waiting to be heated at a moment's notice with approval, and approached Beckett, who he'd been told was a doctor.

"Dr Beckett."

"Aye. Oh, you're Nathan, Chris mentioned you're the healer around these parts."

"I do what I can," he said depreciatingly.

"And do a good job from what I gather. Where did you learn about medicine, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I was a stretcher bearer in the war, learned what I could from the doctors there."

"Aye, well, let's hope that neither of us are needed today, but if we are, I'll be pleased to have your help."

Nathan smiled. He'd been worried that the Doctor would look down on his skills and was glad that wasn't the case.

"Oh, and although I'll be concentrating on making this place into a home, if you ever need my expertise, feel free to send someone to get me. I know I'm not exactly close to town, but I'm happy to help out if needed," Beckett offered.

"Thank you."

"And if you ever have any questions…"

"I have lots of questions, Dr Beckett…"

"Please, call me Carson."

"Okay," he said with a grin.

Chris interrupted any further conversation by saying that everyone should get into their positions. He headed outside to join up with Josiah by the side of the bunkhouse.

Buck, who had been partnered with Beckett, was hunkered down behind a cart they had placed a short distance from the house, and was watching his companion in concern. Beckett had a rifle in his hands, but looked as nervous as a jack rabbit.

"You sure you know how to use that?" he asked.

"Aye, I learned whilst in the army. I may have been there to tend the wounded, but I still needed to know how to defend myself." Beckett looked at him and smiled wryly. "Don't worry, John's been making sure I practice whenever he's around."

"This Sheppard seems pretty good. How d'you meet him?"

"He was in the army and got injured. I saved his life and we became friends, keeping in touch as much as was possible in the war. After it was all over, I settled in a town not far from Chicago, and John turned up a few months later, stayed awhile, then went on his way. He's a bit of a wanderer, coming and going as he pleases, but I think this time he might be ready to settle. He's agreed to help me get this place up and running, and is interested in trying his hand at raising some good horses here."

"What about the lovely Teyla?" he asked, smiling at the thought of her. "She's the prettiest little thing I ever did see."

"Och, you'd better be careful there, lad. She's tougher than old leather and can fight like Kilkenny cats. Don't know how John met Ronon or her, he just turned up with them one day about two years back. But he trusted them and that was good enough for me. I know that they both lost their families in the war. Of course, I've no idea how Ronon and Teyla hooked up either, but they're like kin to each other. John too, though he probably doesn't realise it."

"Sounds like you trust Sheppard's judgement something fierce," he said, almost wishing he hadn't started the loquacious physician off, but curiosity getting the better of him.

"Aye, he's usually right about a person. He acts all tough, but inside, there's a good heart." Carson laughed. "He even brought Rodney to me, though I'm not sure he's that enamoured of him. Don't know quite how they met either, but Rodney had a couple of deep cuts on his arm, so they brought him to me. Think he was scared of them otherwise I'm not sure he'd have stayed once I'd stitched and bandaged his wounds. Have to admit, those three can be pretty intimidating when they want to be." He shook his head at that. "Anyway, they stayed round a couple of weeks, and by the time they left I'd convinced Rodney to stay until his arm had healed, after which he went to his sister's in Chicago. I kept in contact and invited him down here when she finally had enough of him and chucked him out. Another waif and stray."

"One with a past."

"We all have pasts, Mr Wilmington."

"Call me Buck."

"Then I insist you call me Carson, or doc if you prefer," the Scot said with a sigh. "After all, I can't seem to break John or Ronon out of the habit of calling me that."

"I will then, doc," he said with a grin. Carson just rolled his eyes. "But I'm not sure this McKay fellah is worth much."

"I think he's paid for his cowardice back then. More than paid for it. He did confess and send Oberoth to jail, and he must have known there was a good chance he'd get locked up too, so there's some good in there, some bravery. I'm a firm believer in giving people second chances. Well, most people."

Buck was about to say more on the subject when he saw Vin coming over the hill.

"Okay, doc, get ready. They won't be far behind Vin."

Sheppard and Standish were stationed in the house, each taking a window on either side of the door, with Rodney pacing nervously behind them.

"I should have a gun," he complained, looking at Sheppard.

"Ever fired one before?" came the laid back reply.

"Well, a few times. My father used to make me practice, but I haven't really had much use for one since then."

"Yeah, you're not getting a gun," Sheppard replied, exchanging a look with Standish, that made him feel small, and he didn't like that.

"Oh come on, surely having another gun at your back is a good thing?"

"Mr McKay, an untrained gunman at my back is the last thing I require," Standish stated unequivocally. "I have no desire to be accidentally shot."

"What he said," Sheppard said. "When the shooting starts, get behind the table and stay down. Leave the rest to us."

He surveyed the table that had been turned on its side to provide an extra barrier to bullets, knowing that they were right; he'd be more of a hindrance than a help. Truth be told, he'd just feel more secure if he had a weapon to defend himself with if things went drastically wrong, but that didn't stop him feeling annoyed at their dismissal.

"Fine," he snapped, his eyes flashing angrily, thoughts of imminent demise on his mind, and cowardice, and how he'd brought this down on everyone here. He turned his anger onto the gambler. "And don't think I've forgotten that you cheated me out of my money."

"I assure you that I did no such thing."

"You did!"

"You besmirch my reputation unfairly. You, sir, have the most appalling poker face I have ever had the good fortune to play against. I had no reason to play anything other than fair and above board against you."

"But… that's…"

"McKay, I've seen you try to bluff your way out of trouble, remember? You're really bad at it. Or did the cuts to your arm lead you to believe you were succeeding?" Sheppard asked with a shake of his head.

"That's…" he spluttered, but the memory of the attack by Cowen's gang was still fresh in his mind, albeit being a year or more ago. Bluffing them that he didn't have the information they'd wanted had only led to him being badly cut. If Sheppard and his two cohorts hadn't turned up when they did, he would have told the scoundrels what they'd wanted to know, to his eternal shame.

He sighed. Okay, so his bluffing hadn't worked that time, didn't mean he was bad at it. "I still think…"

He didn't get to finish his statement as Tanner rode onto the farm, informing everyone that Oberoth and a gang of ten men were less than five minutes behind him.

Eleven men rode onto the farm from differing directions, opening fire without any warning. Josiah and Nathan, situated to one side of the bunkhouse behind some barrels, started taking out any who came close within range.

JD and Ronon were on the other side of the bunkhouse, also behind barrels, while Chris and Teyla, who had insisted on being involved in the fight, were situated across from the cart that Buck and Carson were behind, using a overturned dresser as cover. Vin, meanwhile, had situated himself on the roof of the homestead.

Three men rode towards the cart, shooting. Vin took out one of them just as Buck popped up and shot another, the third being dispatched by a shot from inside the house, courtesy of Sheppard.

Four more men fell within minutes, with no injuries to the defenders, but unfortunately two men had managed to sneak around to the door of the house while the others were busy with three other attackers holed up behind a large tree.

A stray shot came through the window, and Ezra fell to the ground cursing. Rodney got up from the table he was hiding behind and scuttled over to him.

"Are you alright?"

Ezra stared at the wound on his upper left arm, before snapping back to the present.

"Just a little nick," he said, getting back to his feet and heading for the window. "May I suggest you return to the table's cover, Mr McKay?"

"Oh, right…"

He turned to do so just as the door was kicked in and two men entered, one shooting at Ezra, who rolled out of the way. As he rolled, he aimed his gun and got off several shots, taking down the man who had shot at him. Unfortunately for Sheppard, the second man was able to aim at him before he could bring his gun up to bear, and Rodney was horrified to see the man pull the trigger. Not knowing what came over him, he sprang forward, pushing Sheppard out of the way but feeling an impact on his left side. Oh hell, he'd been shot!

He was vaguely aware of Ezra killing the second man and pushing the door back into place, when a shout came from outside.

"Oberoth is running."

The gunfire stopped and he felt John squirm out from beneath him, locate the bullet hole in his side and place pressure onto the wound. Pain engulfed him, forcing a scream out of him that he was sure was very unmanly, but he found he really didn't care. He'd been shot and if he wanted to scream than he was damned well going to.

"Easy there, easy. It's going to be okay," John said encouragingly, before berating him in a soft voice. "That was a damned fool thing you did, McKay. But it's going to be fine."

Fire was eating him alive. His breaths came fast and hard, panting against the pain in his side. This was bad, bad, bad; like the arm those thieves had cut, only worse because he was dying and, oh no, oh no, what had he done, why had he… it was Sheppard's job to protect him, not the other way round… And it hurt, damn, how it hurt…. Darkness flared at the edges of his vision, and he went with it, letting the pain fade to nothing as consciousness fled.

Carson and Nathan ran for the house on hearing Ezra's call that McKay was hit, and badly. Teyla was close behind them, heading straight for the stove and collecting the bandages and equipment they had sterilised earlier, while Ronon appeared at her side to start the large pan of water atop the stove boiling.

"Och, Rodney, what have you done to yourself," Carson chided as John helped him to cut away clothing.

"He pushed me out of the way, doc."

"You need my help?" Nathan asked.

Carson took the time to check if there were other people injured in the vicinity. Spotting Ezra's bloodstained jacket sleeve, he nodded toward him. "Check on Mr Standish there while I see what the extent of the injury is. I might need your help in a few moments if I have to open him up to get the bullet."

Nathan nodded his assent and went over to Ezra, who was staring mournfully at the hole in his navy jacket.

"Ruined," Ezra muttered with a sigh, before turning green eyes to Nathan. "I do believe I am in need of your services, Mr Jackson."

"Then let me take a look at it," Nathan said, helping his injured friend to remove his jacket, silk vest and shirt so that he could take a proper look at the injury.

Teyla arrived with water, cloths and needle and thread and Nathan thanked her, getting down to the business of cleaning and stitching the wound.

"Bullet's still in him," he heard Carson mutter behind him. "Going to have to get it out. Teyla, love, can you get the laudanum for me? Last thing I need is Rodney waking up in the middle of surgery."

Further preparations continued and then, just as Nathan finished bandaging Ezra's arm, Carson called him over to help with the surgery on McKay.

Chris had sent Vin and JD on a patrol of the area in case Oberoth returned. He doubted he would anytime soon, but it paid to never take your enemy for granted.

The surgery had gone as well as could be expected and McKay was sleeping the sleep of the drugged. Night was falling and Carson wandered out to join him on the porch, looking weary and aged beyond his years, closely followed by Sheppard.

"No sign of that murdering mudsillreturning I hope," Carson said bitterly.

"Nope," Chris replied.

"Good."

"A man like Oberoth though," he added. "He won't give up so easily."

"He'll be back," Sheppard agreed. "He'll wait until you seven have gone back to town, as you'll have to at some stage."

"We'll stay another day, then we'll take turns keeping an eye out here, two or three at a time," he said. "Best we can do."

"Maybe we should move into town for a while? He might be less likely to try if there's more people about," Sheppard suggested. "I know it's still temporary and that we'll have to come back here eventually, but it might buy us the time to find and deal with Oberoth."

"Is McKay fit to travel?" Chris asked Beckett, noting that Josiah had joined them, though he was hanging back in the shadows.

"No, he is not! Not for a couple of days at least, and even then I wouldn't advise it. The man's got a bloody great big hole in him, he's not up to rattling about in the back of a cart!"

"I think we'll have to risk it," Sheppard said.

"Right, and while we're gone the swine burns this place down in spite," Carson muttered angrily.

"Buildings can be rebuilt," Josiah's voice made Beckett jump. "People aren't so easy to replace."

"Ach, that's true." Carson sighed in defeat. "Fine, we'll head into town as soon as I feel McKay can manage the journey, and not before."

Hot pain hit him as consciousness returned. It felt like he'd been skewered on his left side, though the fire seemed a little dulled compared to earlier. Only a little though, it still hurt bad.

He groaned, opening his eyes and finding himself in one of the two bedrooms the homestead boasted, on a soft feather bed. Groaning again, he tried to move but soon stopped as the pain strengthened. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Moving was out, clearly.

A face appeared above him, a glass of water in hand. One of the seven men from the town.

"Carson said you should drink. You lost a lot of blood."

He paled, both at the mention of blood and at the thought of sitting up, shaking his head.

"I'll help you," the man said, moving to sit to one side of him and starting to sit him up.

"Ow, ow, ow, stop, please stop, that hurts," he whimpered, but his feeble cries were ignored and he was soon sitting, well, resting against the man's broad chest. The glass was placed to his lips, and gratefully, he drank, only now realising how thirsty he was.

Another glass appeared from a table beside them and he drank that one too, before he was gently eased back onto the bed.

"Thanks," he whispered, trying to remember the man's name.

"You want me to get Carson?"

"Yes. Hurts."

The man left the room, returning a short while later with Beckett.

"You're awake then, Rodney. You had me worried, lad," Carson said, eyes crinkled in concern.

"Hurts, Carson."

"Aye, I'm sure it does." Carson took something from the table. "Drink this, it'll help with the pain."

The process of sitting up was repeated, this time with two sets of hands helping him. The liquid tasted foul, but he drank it nonetheless, hoping it would take away the searing pain, or at least dull it further.

"I'll let that take affect, then I'll need to check your wounds and change your bandages." Carson turned to the man who'd fetched him. "Josiah, would you mind staying with him? I need to get some things together and ask Nathan if he'd help me."

"Be happy to."

"Thank you." He turned back to Rodney. "You just try and relax now."

The pain was starting to recede to a dull roar, though he felt like his thoughts were mired down in molasses. Then the memory of the fight returned and he turned panicked eyes to the man, Josiah.

"What happened? Did you get Oberoth and his men?" he asked anxiously.

"We got his men, but Oberoth skedaddled," Josiah told him.

"Which means he'll be back," McKay said glumly. "Did anyone get hurt? Well, other than me and the bad guys."

"Ezra has a furrow from a bullet, otherwise, no. I believe Sheppard will be along later to thank you for saving his life."

"Yeah, well, I don't know what came over me… I mean, a man like me, I'm not brave or strong. Smart, sure, but… but not brave."

"It seems to me that it's not who we are that defines us, but what we do. Someone who puts himself between a bullet and another person can't be much of a coward, if one at all, nor can he be much of a bad person."

"I… suppose so. I don't really know what happened, I just reacted, didn't think it through."

"A Cherokee wise man once told me that only in times of great strife will you find your true self."

"And my true self is willing to take a bullet for someone else?" he said in disbelief. "I don't think so. It must have been an aberration. I'm not… I'm not like that, not really. I'm not a… a hero or anything."

"Sometimes you have to look beyond what you think you are to find what you truly are," Josiah said solemnly. "And sometimes it takes time to believe what you find to be true."

He was about to argue more, but Carson and another man, who he recognised as the one who'd lent him his horse earlier that day, entered the room and then he had other thoughts on his mind; such as how much the prodding and poking and changing of bandages hurt, whatever they had used to dull the pain be damned.