Guardian Angel-4
JD sat outside the jail, his eyes darting up and down the street. As Sheriff of Four Corners he liked to remain visible. He knew the title was only for show. He was a peacekeeper, but he was only one of the seven men who protected the town and its citizens from the bad element. JD sighed as he watched the ladies man coming towards him.
"Hey, Kid, anything happening I should know about?" Wilmington asked.
"Nope," Dunne answered. "Everything okay at Chris' place?"
"Yep. Where're are the others?"
"Vin's at the saloon. Josiah and Nathan are at the clinic. Ezra's..."
"Sleeping," the scoundrel finished for him.
"Yeah. He ate breakfast and headed for his room," Dunne shook his head at the gambler's odd hours.
"Figures, Ezra don't seem to cotton to being around during the day. No one to fleece," Wilmington laughed.
"Ezra certainly knows how to pick a mark," Dunne observed. His eyes caught movement at the edge of town and he looked past the ladies man. Three people came towards them. A woman and a boy in a wagon and a man riding a horse. There was nothing strange about seeing newcomers in town, but JD's eyes were caught and held by the rider less horse tied to the wagon.
Buck saw the change come over the kid's ear and turned to see what he was looking at as he asked, "What's wrong, Kid?"
"Buck, that looks like..."
"Pony!" Wilmington exclaimed as he hurried to meet the newcomers.
Robert Warren pulled up as he saw the two men hurrying towards him. He held up his hand and signalled for Jamie to pull the wagon to a halt. This was their first visit to Four Corners in the year since they' bought the small farm and he was unfamiliar with the two men.
"Buck, that is Chris' horse," Dunne cried as they closed the distance.
"Yeah, JD, it is. Go get the others!" he snapped as he drew abreast of Pony. He looked at the older man on horseback. "Mister this horse belongs to a friend of mine and you'd best have a good reason why he's here with you!"
"I...I found 'im, Mister," Jamie stammered as the irate man glared at his father. "He was caught in some brush out by Miller Creek where I was fishin'."
"Was anyone with him?" Buck asked.
"I looked 'round, but didn't see anyone. He was all sweaty like he'd been runnin' a long time. Thirsty too. I gave him water and brought him home."
"When did ya find 'im, Kid," the ladies man asked as he examined Pony's legs.
"Yesterday afternoon. I didn't see no one, Mister."
"My son would never steal from anybody. He found that horse and if he says there was no one around you can be sure he's telling the truth," the woman in the wagon said.
"I believe him, Ma'am," Wilmington smiled at her. "I'm just tryin' to find out what happened to my friend. This is his horse and there's no way he'd just let him loose."
"Maybe he was thrown," Jamie said.
The scoundrel laughed as he looked at the boy. "Ain't no way Chris Larabee gets thrown from a horse. Especially not this one."
"Well, whatever happened this fella was rider less when Jamie found him. Now if you got a Sheriff here we can turn him over to him and my son can tell him where he was found."
"What's goin' on, Buck?" Jackson asked as he joined them.
"This kid found Pony," the scoundrel answered.
"Found him where?" Sanchez asked.
"Out near Miller's creek," Buck answered.
"Who are you folks?" Jackson asked.
"I'm Robert Warren. That's my wife Millie and our boy Jamie. We bought the Grady farm out past Miller's creek about a year ago. We've only been to town a couple of times. Usually do our shopping in Haven, but thought we'd give this place a try. Now are you men gonna tell us where we can find the sheriff?"
"That'd be me, Mister, Warren," Dunne said as he joined them.
"You? Why you not old enough to be..." Warren observed.
"I'm older than you think," Dunne interrupted indignantly. "There's seven of us who keep the peace in Four Corners." He pointed towards the moustached man. "He's Buck Wilmington. That's Josiah Sanchez and that fella is Nathan Jackson."
"Thought you said there were seven of you. I only count five," Robert stated.
"Ezra's sleeping, Vin's out on patrol and Chris Larabee is the other one," JD explained.
"Chris Larabee's the one who owns him?" the older Warren nodded his head towards the gelding.
"Yeah, he does. Kid, do you think you can show us where you found him?" Wilmington asked.
"Sure can, Mister Wilmington," Jamie answered.
"We'll just grab our supplies and you men can head back with us. Shouldn't take us more than an hour," Warren explained.
"JD, you ride out and see if you can find Vin. He's probably on his way back from Nettie's place," Sanchez said. Dunne nodded and hurried towards the livery stable.
"It'll take us that long to get Ezra outta bed and make arrangements for someone to watch the town while we're gone," Jackson explained. "I'm gonna go on up to the clinic and get my things. Hopefully I won't need them," he said, but knew as he looked at Pony that something must've happened to cause Pony to be alone.
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Chris woke to darkness and heat. He couldn't understand where the fire was coming from. The heat itself seemed to burn from inside his chest. He groaned as he turned onto his back and looked up at the blurry sky overhead. The stars seemed to blend into a carpet of brightly twinkling lights and he blinked rapidly to try and bring the world into focus. He lay still until the last of the vertigo left him and edged back onto his side.
"Shit!" he swore as his body continued to shiver. He knew beyond a doubt that his body was bruised to the bone, but it was the scratchy pain in his throat and the wheeze from his lungs that worried him.
"G...get u...up, Larabee!" he rasped in the still night air. The mud was caked on his body and he felt it cracking and flaking off as he forced himself to stand on rubbery legs. He held himself erect as he rose to his full height. The lone call of a coyote broke the stillness of the night and sent shivers down his spine.
His joints ached and his head throbbed in tandem with the wound on his arm, but he couldn't give in to that pain. He needed to get moving and the sooner the better. He was hot and cold at the same time and longed for something to cover his shivering form.
He could almost hear Wilmington's voice, laughing and bright as he spoke, 'Damn, Stud, you're a mess. Get up and move those damn legs. Ain't no point in sitting there waitn' to take root. Move your sorry ass. Now!'
"I'm goin', B...Buck. J...just have t...to f...figure out which way," Larabee's low weak voice carried on the still night air and joined with the call of an owl. He lifted his right foot and placed it slightly ahead of the left. Over and over he repeated the action, his head down as he concentrated on where he was stepping. He felt like he'd been walking forever when he lifted his head and looked around. He swore softly as he saw the river a couple of hundred yards behind him. "S...son of a b...bitch!" he rasped, the sound of his own voice ricocheted through his skull as he slumped to the ground.
'Come on, Larabee, you ain't no quitter!'
This time it was Tanner's voice cutting through the pain and fever. The young man was his best friend, someone he trusted to watch his back. "D...didn't e...expect y...you to do it when you're not here, Tanner," Larabee's tortured voice cried. He knew the voice would not let him give up and forced his trembling legs to hold him upright. He knew the journey ahead of him was going to be one of the longest in his life, but it was also one he was going to see through to the end.
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Burke looked at the colt in his hands and swore sharply. He needed to make sure Chris Larabee was dead. Somehow he knew he made a deadly mistake in not checking further down the river. If Larabee survived and got back to Four Corners he'd reveal everything he saw and bring the real law down on Haven. This was too god a deal for him to let that happen. He'd find some way to make sure Larabee didn't survive. He stood up, walked outside and signalled Harvey and Mike to come over.
The sun was high in the sky and the rays beat down on the dilapidated buildings. A small brush rolled along main street as the two men ran across the deserted street to the sheriff's office.
"What's wrong, Ray?" Mike asked.
"We're goin' back!"
"Back where?" Harvey enquired.
"Back ta the river. We gotta go back ta the river and make damn sure Larabee's dead," he glanced around knowing most of the townspeople would be in church.
"Come on, Ray, ya know he couldn't've survived. It's to hotter'n hell out 'ere and I ain't in the mood ta go running around," Harvey whined.
Burke's hand snapped out and clasped the man's shirt in his beefy fist. He pulled him close, their noses almost touching as he snarled. "Then ya best jest get outta town, Harvey. There's no way in hell I'm gonna let a slacker like you stay part of this. Mike and me can handle things on our own."
Harvey wrapped his hands around the stronger mans. "N...no, R...ray. I'll go. I'll help!"
"Damn right you'll help. Ain't no way I'd'a let ya go," Ray's eyes glared anger as he released his grip on the other mans shirt. He smiled as Harvey dropped to the ground. "Now git yer ass o'er to the liv'ry and saddle the horses. We got us a body ta find. Dead or Alive!"
"And if he's alive..."
Burke grinned at Mike as he finished. "We kill 'im,"
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"I found him right over there, Mister Tanner," Jamie explained as they pushed apart the bushes and shrubs. His father's arm lay on his shoulder in a gesture of support and the nervous boy was grateful to have it. He knew these men wouldn't hurt him, but he looked up to his father. "He was tangled in them branches."
'Thanks, Kid," Tanner said as he moved into the brush. He knew the others were staying back to give him a chance to search the surrounding area. He easily found the area where Pony was tangled. The downtrodden grass and broken twigs would've been easy for anyone to spot. What he needed to find was the track that would hopefully lead them to Chris Larabee. He walked along the brush until the tracks lead out onto the open area. It didn't take him long to find Pony's trail and he stood up. He signalled for the others to come over and pointed out his discovery.
"Pony came from south east." He turned to the Robert Warren and asked. "Any idea what's out that way?"
"There's a few farms, but not much of anything else," Robert answered.
"Chris would've been coming from that way, Vin. Maybe he's at one of the farms," Wilmington observed.
"Yeah, he's probably sittin' at a table eating lunch while we're out here searching for him in this heat," Dunne said.
"I hope you're right, Kid," the scoundrel muttered. "Any towns south or east of here?" he asked.
"There's a place about a days ride to the south called Haven. Don't know if I'd call it a town though," Warren answered.
"Might I enquire why?" Standish asked as he wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with a lace kerchief.
"Well it's just a few buildings. Maybe half a dozen or so families living there last time we went. The general store doesn't have much stock," Robert answered.
"Any law?" Sanchez asked.
"Well, there's a man there calls himself the Sheriff. He's got a couple of deputies, but I didn't trust either one of them. That's why we decided to check out Four Corners. Didn't even know about your town until the Wilson's came through and told us about it. Real nice people and they said your town was a safe place to get supplies," the older Warren answered.
"Tom and his family are good people," Jackson answered. "Vin, maybe we should check out those farms and make our way south to Haven. If Chris was hurt maybe one of the families took him in."
"Sounds good, Nate," Tanner said as he reached for Peso' reins.
"Jamie, thanks for the help you've given us," Wilmington said as the six peacekeepers mounted up.
"You're welcome, Mr. Wilmington. Hope you find Mr. Larabee."
"We will," Tanner said simply as they turned away from the father and son.
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Chris woke up lying on his back half in, half out of the shade of a large boulder. He opened his eyes and cried out as the light burned into them. His body was on fire and yearned for water. A dry tongue flicked out and stuck to cracked lips. His throat felt like it was filled with sand as he tried to swallow but there was nothing there. No moisture, just barren, arid, desert like terrain on the inside of his mouth. He moaned, but the sound wasn't loud enough to reach his own ears. He needed water and he needed it fast. He rolled onto his stomach and lifted his head, blinking rapidly as the sun continued to beat down from above.
Chris had no idea how long he'd been struggling to move. He didn't remember passing out. He did remember falling and voices shouting at him to get up. He smiled as he thought of JD Dunne ordering him to get up and get moving. Somehow he'd hear the voices and move, not because he could, but because he had too.. He'd let too many people down in his life already and he wasn't going to do that to these men.
Without knowing how he did it he soon found himself upright and stumbling along the narrow trail. He knew he should keep out of sight as the Sheriff and his men were still chasing him, but he didn't have the strength to make it to the scrub brush. He looked down at his feet and tried to focus on them. 'Right foot, left foot,' he ordered as he watched his sunburned body move forward. A sound reached his ears and he stopped where he was, swaying in spite of the lack of wind.
Chris stood beside the trail and his fever-baked mind finally recognized the sounds of horses. He knew who they belonged to. He looked left and right for a place to hide, his blurry eyes finally focusing on a small alcove in the brush. He moved as fast as his stiff limbs would allow and drew himself into the sheltering shade. He waited for the horses to come in view. He kept his eyes on the road and saw riders coming towards him. The sun shone in his eyes and he blinked once more, felling the grit and sand scrape against his eyeballs. The sounds of hoof beats drew closer and he kept his stinging eyes trained on them. His breath caught in his dry throat as the first rider drew abreast of his position and rode past.
"V...V...in..." he rasped, his voice a mare whisper, drowned out by the horses riding in front of him. He knew each rider and called to them as they rode past. Too late he realized they couldn't hear him. He pulled himself out of the shade and tried to call them. He climbed to his feet and waved his arms, but the last rider, whom he knew was Buck Wilmington disappeared around the bend.
"N...no," he cried as he sank to his knees on the trail. "V...V...in, B...B...uck," he cried, his voice hoarse and wispy in the still air. He crawled back to the brush and the small reprieve from the sweltering sun it gave him. It wasn't long before his fever wracked body succumbed to its need for rest.
When next he opened his eyes darkness had overtaken the sunlight and a cool breeze was blowing across his body. He shivered and tried to find some warmth, but there was none.
'Get the fuck up, Larabee! Ya wanna die out 'ere in the middle of nowhere? Git on yer feet and get those legs movin'.'
"C...can't, V...Vin."
'Don't ya be sayin' that, Larabee. I ain't in the mood ta hear it. Now ya promised ya'd come with me ta Tascosa an' clear my name. Ya breakin' that promise?"
"T...tired, V...Vin, s...sick!"
"Anyone's got eyes can see yer 'urt an' sick, Larabee, but I never thought ya'd go back on yer word. Thought a man's word was his law. Guess I was wrong about ya. Yer nothin' but a low life scum suckin'...'
"No!" his voice was barely audible, but the anger was evident on his sun baked face. The words he'd heard Tanner say resembled to closely the words Burke screamed at him. He couldn't let him win. He could almost hear Tanner's sigh of relief as he struggled to his feet. "Ain't a low life scum suckin' anything, Tanner," a thin smile cracked his dry lips and he moved out into the night.
TBC
