Kiss of Death----13
It was very late when the last of their guests left and Buck stood next to Angela as she said goodbye to Joseph and Rosemary Clark. He'd seen her talking to the woman earlier in the evening and needed to know what had been said. The smile on their faces was enough to let him know they were talking about Chris Larabee and he needed to know what they'd decided about his performance. As far as he could tell no one had noticed anything amiss.
"Angela, what did you tell Rosemary?" Wilmington asked as the woman turned to face him.
"Whatever do you mean, Lover?" Tate asked and pulled him into a kiss. "I've been waiting to do that all night."
"What did you tell her, Angela?" the rogue asked again as he gripped her wrists.
"I told her that you redeemed yourself for now and that she's to take special care of Chris when she visits him tomorrow. You'll be able to ask her how he's doing when her and Joseph come over before our wedding."
Buck wasn't sure if the woman realized she'd just disclosed that Chris had to be close by if Clark would be able to visit him, and still be at the house before three o'clock, which was the time of the ceremony that would bind him to the she-devil before him.
"Buck! Did you hear me?" Tate asked, angered by his seeming lack of interest.
"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere."
"Well, Lover, it's not your mind I need right now, but I'm warning you that the reprieve you won for your friend is in serious danger if you don't perform tonight." She ran her fingers along the firm jaw line and once more pressed her lips to his. This time she got the reaction she was looking for and she deepened the kiss until she stood breathless before him once more. "Carry me to our room, Buck."
With little choice in the matter, Buck picked her up and easily carried her to the bedroom they'd been sharing. He placed her on the bed and sat on the edge as she reached for him.
"Love me, Buck."
"I'll never love you, Angela, not like I once did."
"Careful, Lover," her eyes were glacial in the light cast by the lamp. "You're dangerously close to crossing that line again."
Buck swallowed the bitter bile that threatened to choke him as he turned to face her and watched as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. The beauty he'd seen there before had been replaced by an ugliness that went beyond the surface and shone like the coldest depths of hell. Angela Tate was a woman without a soul and she was eating away at his.
"Shall we start again? Love me, Buck."
Without a word Buck began removing his clothing and knew there was no choice. Not here, not now, maybe not ever, but he hoped and prayed that Evan Rawlings was as good at reading people signs as Vin Tanner was at reading signs no one else seemed able to recognize. He closed his eyes and lay down with the woman he'd come to despise and began worshipping her body.
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Evan Rawlings nodded to Reverend Collins and his sister as he escorted them to their house at the edge of town. It was nearing midnight, but the night sky had been covered with brightly twinkling stars surrounding a full-bodied moon. The trail was well lit, but Rawlings knew it by heart and could find his way home during a fierce storm. He waited until the duo were inside and then rode his horse towards the livery. It was quiet and he knew most of the town had been in bed for hours, giving him plenty of time to think. His mind quickly wandered back over the evenings' events and he kept seeing Wilmington with his arm around Angela Tate and the small motion the man made with his head. That alone had caused him to pause and take notice, but coupled with the fact that Wilmington had told him he wasn't going to rush into a marriage with the woman, Rawlings knew something more was going on than met the eye.
"What the hell is going on, Buck, and where is Chris?" He whispered as he dismounted in front of the livery. Jacobs would already have gone to bed and he knew he would have to take care of his horse on his own. He knew there was nothing he could do about it tonight, but tomorrow he would go see Joseph Clark and make sure a message was sent to Four Corners requiring an answer as quickly as possible. Buck Wilmington was to be married in less than twenty-four hours, and somehow he thought instead of it being the happiest day of a man's life it was more of a death sentence. He had to help his long time friend, he owed him that much.
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Rosemary Clark arose with the first light of dawn and stretched her arm high over her body as she looked at the man who shared her bed. She'd drugged him the night before in an effort to keep from feeling his hands fumbling with her body and knew that he would remember nothing after they returned home the night before.
She eased out of the bed and reached for her robe before heading towards the kitchen and the promise of fresh coffee. The young woman she'd hired over a year ago was deaf and mute, but she could easily get her to understand what was expected of her. Maria was also very afraid of retaliation if she did not please her employer. She smiled as shaking hands passed her a white china cup filled to the brim with the aromatic brew she was used to.
Rosemary shook her head when Maria motioned to the plate of biscuits and bacon she'd placed at the center of the hard wood table. She was not hungry; in fact her stomach was doing flip-flops as if she was the one getting married today. She turned away from the young woman and headed back to her bedroom to change into her riding clothes. She looked at her husband in distaste as she pulled on her clothes and left the house. She hurried to the stable and told Matthew Jennings to get her horse ready and make sure her saddlebags were also added to the animals' saddle. By the time she mounted up, the sun was just beginning her daily ritual and the promise of a bright day for the wedding that would take place later in the day.
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Ethan Turner was worried and it showed in the way he paced in front of the line shack. Since waking up he'd been trying to get the blond's fever down, but no amount of wiping him down was helping. Chris Larabee was in the throes of fever-induced nightmares that had him screaming, crying, and thrashing about on the bed.
"What the hell am I supposed ta do now?" He shouted as the cries seemed to weaken and the body dropped back on the bed where soft keening moans escaped the parched throat. He turned back towards the clean basin of water he'd just fetched from the deep well and picked it up before entering through the open door.
"God damn it!" he cursed his own inadequacies as he wondered how he was going to explain Larabee's condition. He took the cloth and soaked it in the water and again washed down the fevered man.
"B…Buck, t…that you? Hot, Buck…too hot! W…where's Sarah? Sarah!"
"Look I don't know who the fuck Sarah is, but your friend is fine, okay! Now I ain't one ta give a damn what happens ta ya, but right now I gotta keep ya alive or she'll rip the skin off my back…"
"You're damn right she will! What did you do?" Clark asked as she rushed forward and replaced Turner in the chair.
"Ain't done nothin'! I've been doin' everything ya told me too and this mornin' I woke up ta him screamin' for someone named Sarah!"
"Sarah?"
"Yeah, think maybe she's dead 'cause he's wailin' like a banshee and tellin' Wilmington not ta stop him from savin' her!"
"Chris, I need you to listen to me. I'm going to help you!"
Larabee heard a voice calling him and the promise of relief from the pain and heat that scorched his body and mind. He tried to speak, but his mouth and throat were drier than the desert he'd ridden through with Buck on the way to Mexico. He forced his tongue past cracked lips and looked up into the face that seemed to be bathed in a bright light. He sighed contentedly as he tried to reach for the woman, but frowned as his arms refused to move.
"S…Sarah?"
"I'm right here, Chris. I'm going to make you feel better and then I want you to eat and get some sleep," Clark spoke in soft soothing tones as she placed her hands on both his cheeks.
Chris frowned as a scent suddenly overpowered everything else and he knew beyond a doubt that whoever this woman was she was not his beloved wife. He forced the words through his ravaged throat and inwardly winced at the weakness behind them.
"N…no Sarah…Buck!" he cried and sought out the motive blue eyes he'd trusted for so long. The familiar voice did not answer and Chris caught sight of the man standing just to the right of the woman. Memories returned, but Chris had no strength with which to fight anymore as he remembered the woman's name.
"Ethan, we need to get his fever under control! There are several packets of powder and herbs in my saddlebags. Put half of each packet in a cup and mix it with hot water. Then we're going to get some water into him and clean him up. I'll need the strips of bandages I brought with me too!"
"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and hurried out of the shack to retrieve the items from her horse.
"I know you can hear me, Chris, and I need you to listen to me. I really am here to help you today. Your friend Buck is putting on a marvelous performance and you are not to be harmed today, but that can easily change. So right now it is in your best interest to take advantage of my training and let me help. Do you understand me?"
"B…bitch," Larabee rasped.
"Oh, you'll pay for that I promise, but I have plans this afternoon so I will mark that one down as one against you," Clark said as she eased the bandages off the wound in his side. She frowned as she looked at the wound and pressed on the area surrounding it. "Ethan?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Turner answered.
"What did I tell you when I was here last?"
"Told me to take care of him!"
"I also warned you not to do anything unless I told you to. Do you remember that?"
"Y…yes, M…Ma'am."
"Then explain to me where this new wound came from and do not attempt to lie to me!"
"I…he…I mean…"
"Stop stumbling over your words and answer my question!"
"He made me angry and I had my knife in my hand and I couldn't stop myself! It ain't that bad!"
"It's bad enough, you fool! I'm trying to keep this sonofabitch alive long enough to satisfy Wilmington and you fuck up like this. That knife was probably full of dirt and now it's caused an infection in that wound and I have to clean it! You damn well better make sure you do everything I say from now on! Do I make myself clear?"
"Ye…yes, Ma'am!"
"Good, now get that tea ready and get me some more water! Where's the whiskey I left here?"
"I…I used it to clean his wounds," Turner lied smoothly.
"I don't believe you! You drank it didn't you?" Clark said, standing and advancing on the baby faced man. She slapped him resoundingly and forced herself to be calm before walking back to the bed.
Chris watched the woman as she advanced on Turner and saw fear in the man's face as she delivered an open handed slap to his right cheek. He breathed past the pain and nausea and looked into the deadly eyes staring down at him. He'd never seen such cold hatred and knew it was directed at him.
"Bring me the carbolic and my scalpel!"
Chris' insides twisted with fear, but he refused to show this woman any sign of weakness. Instead he stared at the woman even as she sat down and turned her attention to his wounds once more. He felt her pressing roughly against the tender flesh around the open wound. The woman was relentless as she opened the wound and drained the bloodied pus from within. He twisted away from the torment, but was unable to move very far and could not hold back the cry of pain as she used a cloth laced with carbolic and water to clean the wound. By the time a new bandage was in place, he was breathing rapidly and his heart was beating a staccato rhythm in his chest.
"Just need to check your leg and then I'll be on my way, but first you need to drink this!"
"F…Fuck you!"
"That's two, Chris, and I'm afraid you won't enjoy the punishment when the time comes. Ethan, bring me the tube you'll find in with the bandages!"
"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and quickly returned with the length of tubing.
"Now, Chris, last chance. Are you going to drink this or do I put this down your throat and pour everything I can find into it?"
Chris' anger grew, but there was no chance of winning this particular fight. He opened his mouth as she pressed the cup against his mouth and drank the bitter tasting liquid. Time after time he swallowed until the cup was empty and he lay back against the pillows gasping for air.
"Chris, if I come out here and Ethan tells me you aren't drinking the way you should be then I will put it down your throat and leave it there. It will become your only source of fluid. Understood?"
"Yeah," Larabee answered and watched as she readied an injection. He knew it was morphine and right now his mind and body craved the release it represented. He felt her clasp his arm and press the needle into the vein before delivering the narcotic once more.
"Ethan, so help me if I come out here and he's worse I'll put a bullet in each leg and make sure you're awake when I remove the damn things. Now do what you're being paid to do!"
"Yes, ma'am," Turner said and walked her to the door, relieved when she mounted up and rode away from the line shack. Turning back towards the inside of the one room dwelling he noted that Larabee seemed to be sleeping and ran his fingers through his grimy hair. No matter what happened, this would be his last job for Rosemary Clark. The woman was getting worse and he was beginning to fear for his own life.
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Buck sat on the edge of the bed and fiddled with the string tie around his neck. The white shirt was buttoned to the top and it felt as if he was being choked as he moved his head from side to side. It was nearing two o'clock and most of the guests had arrived. Angela Tate had been greeting her guests and making sure things were perfect for the ceremony. A variety of wildflowers were spread throughout the house, the rugs had been cleaned and the curtains washed and hung once more over the windows that were opened to allow the soft breeze to tease the curtains and keep the house from being too stuffy.
Buck had no interest in the goings on, but he forced a smile to his face each time someone new showed up. More than twenty guests had already arrived, mostly people who knew Angela and wanted to see the man she'd chosen to marry. Buck felt as if he was on display at times and had retired to the bedroom to wait for Rosemary Clark's arrival. His mind wandered back to the last time he'd seen Chris Larabee and the sheer pain that was evident on his washed out face. He stood up and made his way to the window as the sound of a buggy reached his ears. He watched as Angela walked out and greeted the Clark's and knew she would be bringing Rosemary to him. He turned and watched the door until it opened and the woman stepped inside.
"I must say you do look rather handsome this afternoon, Buck."
"You'll forgive me if I don't say the same about you," Wilmington said and winced at the high-pitched laugh from the woman.
"Doesn't matter. Angela told me you've been worried about your friend and I told her I'd come talk with you."
"How's Chris doing?"
"Right now he's fighting a raging fever, but Ethan will keep feeding him the tea and bathing him. I'll go out there after the ceremony and dancing and make sure he's doing what I've told him."
"Chris needs a doctor."
"He has me!"
"If that was meant to ease my mind you're crazy!"
"No, not to ease your mind, just to let you know that Chris is still breathing and I'll make damn sure he stays that way as long as you behave yourself."
"You make it sound like you're scolding a school boy, Rosemary, but I'll tell you the same as I told Angela. There'll come a time when you won't be holding all the cards and when that time comes you'd best watch your back!"
"Is that a threat?"
"No, no it's not a threat! It's a promise and my friends know I always keep my promises! Make no mistake about that!"
"I'll try to remember that, Buck, but tonight while you're enjoying yourself with Angela, I'll be visiting your friend and let's just say things could get even more uncomfortable for Chris."
Wilmington reached out and grabbed her by the wrists and stared into her eyes as he spoke. "You hurt him and all bets are off! I'll tell everyone what you're doing and I'll make damn sure Evan contacts St. Louis and finds out the truth about you and Angela. You keep that in mind when you go out there tonight because I may be down, but I'm far from out!"
"You're hurting me!"
"Damn right I am! Now get out of here and go tell your partner in this shit that I want this over and done and then I want to see Chris!"
"Oh I'll go see Angela, Buck, and I'll show her just what you've done to me. Perhaps she'll allow another visit in order to drive home the fact that we do hold all the cards…especially the Aces!" She turned and stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
"Not for long, Rosemary, not if I can get a message to Evan," he vowed and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror over the small dresser. He looked as bad as he felt; yet his friend was the one who was paying for his actions. Somehow he would get Larabee out of this and make damn sure Angela Tate, and Rosemary Clark paid dearly for what they'd done.
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Angela spotted her friend as she swept down the hallway and excused herself from the two women she'd been talking with. She hurried towards the room her friend entered and walked inside to find a livid Rosemary Clark standing at the window.
"Rosie, what's wrong?"
"That sonofabitch thinks he can dictate terms to me!"
"What did he say?"
"He told me you and I would pay for what we've done!"
"Oh, Rosie, that's just because he's angry right now and knows you and I have control over Chris and whether he lives or dies!"
"I know that, Angela, but I'm not so sure we do have control. Buck Wilmington is like a keg of dynamite and right now his fuse is getting shorter and when he blows he's going to take us down hard!"
"You can't be serious?"
"I'm deadly serious, Angela. This man is not like the others and I think we may be underestimating him!"
"I can handle, Buck."
"Can you? It seems to me you said the same thing about Robert and Brian, but they very nearly were our downfall! We need to finish this and get the hell away from here!"
"All right, Rosie, but let me have at least a week of happiness with Buck before we get rid of them."
"A week may be too long, but you know I'll stay with you no matter what you decide."
"I know, and I would do the same for you," Angela vowed and the two women hugged.
"I think we'd better get this done before the groom decides he's gonna hightail it for the hills!"
"Not while we have Chris, Rosie. That's something you can be sure of." Tate said and smiled as she stood and the two walked out to greet their friends and neighbors.
"Angela, Phillip says he's ready whenever you are," Martha Collins said as the two entered the parlor. The furnishings had been moved back and chairs were lined up for the guests.
"Thank you, Martha," Tate said and turned towards her friend. "Could you let Buck know we're ready to begin?"
"Certainly," Rosemary said and walked towards the closed door. She pushed it open and spotted the handsome groom standing at the window once more. "It's time, Buck."
"I'll be right out!"
"No, you need to come now!"
Wilmington took a deep breath and strode purposefully towards the door. There was no way around it, today he was marrying a woman he'd once loved and adored, but now was disgusted to be in the same room with her. He walked past the woman and hurried towards the parlor and was surprised to see every seat was taken. Angela stood at the front of the room where Reverend Collins and Evan Turner stood. He'd asked Turner to be his best man and suddenly realized how very wrong this was. Chris Larabee should have been standing there and he should have been celebrating the happiest day of his life, but it was not.
Collins signaled for him to come and stand with his bride while Rosemary Clark stood next to Angela. Buck took a deep breath and took his place beside his bride. He heard Collins speaking, felt his stomach churn, and forced himself to concentrate on what he was doing. When it came time for the exchange of vows he spoke quickly and sharply before placing the ring on her finger. Everything moved as if in slow motion until the preacher looked at him and motioned to Angela Tate. He had no idea what the man wanted and frowned as he tried to figure out what was expected of him.
"You may kiss the bride!" Collins repeated and smiled as the groom finally reacted.
Rawlings had watched the proceedings and there was no longer any doubt in his mind that Buck Wilmington was being forced into something he didn't want. The question now was why he could be so easily coerced into this marriage. It didn't take long to figure out that it had something to do with Chris Larabee's disappearance. The telegraph office had remained closed through the day and he'd been unable to send a message to Four Corners, but he would do so first thing in the morning when Joseph Clark opened the doors.
"Congratulations, Angela, I hope you and Buck are as happy as Joseph and I have been."
"Thank you, Rosie," the bride said as she kept her arms around her husband's waist.
"Buck, think it's time I kissed your bride," Rawlings said and forced a smile to his face. "Congratulations, Mrs. Wilmington."
"Why thank you, Evan," Angela said, glowing with happiness at the musical sound of her name.
"Buck, wish you all the best."
"Thanks, Evan," the ladies' man said as people clapped him on the back and proceeded to kiss the new bride. He found a glass pressed into his hand as Joseph Clark raised his glass into the air and shouted above the crowd.
"To Buck and Angela Wilmington. May your life together be happy and long and that you're blessed with children."
"Thank you, Joseph," Wilmington said forcing a smile to his face as he kissed his new wife once more. He continued to put on a show, giving everyone the idea that the marriage was indeed something he'd wanted, and hating every minute he was forced to be at her side. He lost track of how many drinks were forced on him, but he drank them as if he was a man dying of thirst and the glasses held the elixir of life.
TBC