Spotting an object on the horizon heading directly toward them, Chris Larabee soon made out the familiar markings of Vin's horse but could see no rider. Swearing vehemently under his breath, he spurred his horse unmercifully and Sire lunged, his thickly muscled neck straining as horse and rider galloped headlong into the desert.
Vin, bent low over the saddle horn, watched as the ground sped by beneath him as he felt his life's blood drip slowly from his wound. Forcing himself upright in the saddle once more, he scoured the horizon for Chris and the others and spotted a great cloud of dust that grew ever closer. He laughed feebly and relaxed his legs wrapped around the pony's heaving sides signaling to Peso that the wild sprint was over. Easing up, the horse slipped into an easy lope, a bone-rattling trot and finally to a slow walk as Vin looked up one last time to insure he had indeed been spotted. He then simply let the darkness, kept at bay through sheer determination and Hannity's assurance that he would meet up with the others, finally overtake him and slipped sideways off the horse where he hung still bound to the saddle horn.
Chris Larabee breathed a sigh of relief when he finally saw a rider aboard the horse in the distance. He sucked in a sharp breath as horse and rider come to a stop and the man astride tumble off the far side. Raking his spurs over the big gelding's sides he closed the gap between them quickly. Circling around Peso Chris saw Vin, hands tied to the saddle horn, blood marring the horse's neck and side and, with a leg over his horse's neck, he jumped from his saddle and strode up to gentle the winded horse with a strong hand and a gentle but firm voice. He reached down and felt the tracker's neck for a pulse. It was there but it was weak and barely discernible. Lifting Vin to take the dead weight off of his bound hands, Chris waited for Josiah to untie the reins and the two of them then laid the wounded man gently on the ground.
Josiah eased the unconscious man into a sitting position while Nathan, thankful he had grabbed a few supplies before riding hell bent from Four Corners, knelt down and removed the makeshift pressure bandage. He then removed the leather jacket and sodden shirt and examined the wound. Feeling around to the opposite side for an exit wound, he found none and knew the bullet was still inside and most likely very near his friend's heart. The healer considered surgery briefly but quickly dismissed the notion. With the amount of blood loss, even the most skilled surgeon in the most up-to-date hospital would probably kill him and, despite Chris Larabee's anxious looks, he wouldn't even attempt to treat the wound other than to try and stop the bleeding.
Pulling strips of rough cloth from his kit, Nathan folded and pressed the thick wad firmly to the wounds then secured it by wrapping and tying off lengths of sheeting around Vin's torso.
"Can he make it back to town?" Chris asked.
"He needs rest. If we move him much more he's gonna die."
"What about the bullet?" Chris demanded, his voice sharper than he intended, angry only at his own helplessness.
"He's lost too much blood. Any more and it will kill him," Nathan said, "We need to make camp here."
They set up camp where they'd stopped and a few hours later Vin's curtain of darkness parted slowly, his vision now lit by a crackling campfire. He realized it was night and that he was stretched out on a bedroll, shirtless and with his chest bound tightly and on fire. He looked around and saw two dark figures deep in muted conversation on the far side of the camp. He tried to speak to them but his mouth and throat were so raw and cotton dry that he only managed a feeble croak for water that was barely heard by the men across the fire.
Walking around the fire ring, Chris squatted next to him and, with a cautious smile, said, "Welcome back, cowboy."
Nathan squatted next to Vin, a canteen in hand, and lifted it to his mouth. Warm water trickled over his cracked lips and down his throat. He drank thirstily until the healer pulled the container away and he begged for more.
"That's enough for now," Nathan cautioned.
He placed the canteen by Vin's head and turned to a small pot warming to the side of the fire's flames.
"Hannity?" Vin then whispered.
The one word took Chris by surprise.
"I sent Buck and Ezra on ahead to see if they could find her and whoever was followin' you but I don't know if they'll have much luck in the dark."
"Jack Tate," Vin wheezed out.
Nathan looked to Chris and the gunman's face was a cold mask in the firelight.
"Another bounty hunter," he told the healer.
Squatting again by his patient Nathan checked the bandages and found them relatively dry. The wound had finally stopped bleeding and now his only worries were Vin's ability to rally after so much blood loss, infection and lead poisoning...a piece a cake.
The healer picked up a small bowl and spoon and explained to his patient, "This here's some broth made from jerky, a few herbs and water. It don't taste like much but it'll help build your blood back up."
Spooning a small measure into Vin's mouth, Nathan laughed softly at the tracker's grimace. He continued to spoon-feed him anyway, forcing as much of the liquid into him, until Chris put up his hand to stop him. Vin was asleep, his ribs rising and falling evenly.
"He needs to take as much of this as he can," Nathan insisted as he poured the remains of the makeshift soup back into the pot to reheat.
Chris said quietly, "Looks like all he wants to do now is sleep."
"This has got willow bark in it to help with the pain but I sure wish I had some a the laudanum that girl's been swillin'. I found ten bottles if I found one 'round their last two camps."
JD whistled and called from his post east of their small encampment, "Riders headin' in!"
Nathan and Chris turned at the same time, one with a gun drawn the other with his hand on a throwing knife.
As they dismounted, Buck and Ezra's voices could be heard over the jingle of tack and the squeak of leather but the wounded man heard nothing and slept on, his dreams disjointed and unpleasant. Unsaddling their mounts, the two of them turned the animals free to drink from the river and to graze among the cactus and walked into the light of the fire, Ezra holding something on the tips of his fingers.
Chris took the odious offering from the gambler, swore softly and promptly dropped the long chain and leg shackles into the fire. Sparks floated and swirled up into the night sky.
"That was all that remained at the spot where Mr. Tanner and Mizz McCall were set upon by the miscreant who has been following them."
"Jack Tate," Chris announced and Buck nodded at the revelation.
"I heard tell of Jack Tate jumpin' bounty all over the territory for years."
"Did Mr. Tanner enlighten you as to how he came to be in such a dire predicament?" Ezra asked glancing at Vin's prone body.
"He only just came to." Nathan told them, "Asked about the woman then went back to sleep."
Buck turned to where Vin lay, fire shadows dancing over his slumbering form and continued, "From what we could tell, two horses took off headed east, one horse leadin' the other. There was blood all over the place so I don't rightly know the outcome but my guess is that Jack probably shot Vin then tried to take on Hannity. He musta come out on the short end of the stick 'cause Tate never woulda sent our boy back to us - dead or alive."
"She musta known we were behind 'em, then, said the youngest member of the team as he came to stand with the others.
Buck picked up a tin cup, poured himself some coffee and, chuckling, said, "Yeah, JD, you can bet she knew the moment we picked up her trail. She's real witchy when it comes to knowin' things like that."
"What are the chances she'll back track to get Vin?" Chris asked shoving his Colt back in its holster but not before opening the gate and spinning the cylinder.
"Slim to none," Buck said with confidence, "Hanni sent Vin back to us to save his life." He sat down on one of the large rocks surrounding the campsite offering them some shelter in the vast desert and added, "There were two blood trails leadin' up to where the horses were tethered. I think Hannity's headed to Tascosa to lick her wounds while Jack Tate's most likely on his way to perdition. She'll be back for Vin another day."
"Let's pray it doesn't come to that," Josiah said handing a plate of hastily heated beans to the ladies' man.
Buck nodded his appreciation and added, "Amen to that, brother."