Part 21
The pain was intense, causing his whole body to burn and ache. Ezra knew he was in the clinic. He could hear Nathan's frustrated worry, wishing he could do more. Josiah's heavy sighs spoke volumes of his depth of feeling. Ezra could feel Chris' angered concern causing everyone to walk on eggshells, less they evoke his fury. Buck's fear-filled concern, hoping they weren't going to lose a member of their family. He could even sense Vin's quiet consternation.
Ezra felt himself drifting and the pain was starting to ebb away, being left behind. At first, he allowed it, reveled in it. It was a joyous feeling-no pain-and a peace he had never known. Then he realized he was moving away from his friends and from a life he had grown quite fond of. No! He wasn't ready to leave, it was too soon. The arrogant and self-reliant cardshark had found something extraordinary with these six stalwart men, something he wanted to hang on to for as long as possible.
"Nathan, what's wrong?" Chris asked, startled when the healer jumped up to lay a hand on Ezra's chest. They had been sitting with Ezra for over a day now, watching as his condition deteriorated. Chris' heart-pounded fiercely inside his chest as the healer bowed his head in resignation.
The healer released a quivering breath, raised his head and removed his hand. "Nothing...I...I just thought we lost him but he's still with us." Nathan could have sworn that Ezra had stopped breathing, but then he felt the long overdue rise and fall of his chest. He was fighting to stay with them, but how long could he keep it up?
Nathan carefully pulled the blanket up to Ezra's chin, surprised at his depth of feeling for the southerner. But why should he be surprised? He was coming to care for all these men. It was just that Ezra's southern heritage and ambiguous moral compass sometimes drove him crazy, but he had seen hints of the good man hidden beneath his cavalier attitude.
"How long can he keep fighting?" Buck somberly asked.
"I don't know. If I could just get his fever down, maybe..." Nathan sat back down in the chair, placing his face into his hands for a moment. He felt so useless. He raised his head, and taking a deep breath turned to find Chris staring intently at him. "He's so weak and the infection is strong. I think it's only a matter of time."
Ezra was dying. This was like a slap in the face and snapped Chris into action. He turned and stormed out of the clinic. Vin glanced at the bewildered faces and chased after his friend.
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Vin caught up with Chris just as he entered the jail. JD rose from his chair as the dark-clad gunslinger crossed over to stand in front of the cell that held Jimbo and Hutchins. Roland was the only one who appeared jittery at the gunslinger's appearance, and Chris turned his dark glare on him, like a lion weeding out the weakest member of the herd. Roland stepped back into the corner of the cell fidgeting with his belt. The gunslinger's eyes didn't look real, they were black as pitch and Roland's breaths started to come out in quick gasps. Chris shifted his gaze to the two older men.
"The big one on the cot was riding the bay with the nicked shoe," Vin confided to Chris over his shoulder.
Jimbo lay stretched out on the cot, his hands behind his head.
"Get up!"
The Sergeant opened one eye and looked over at the blond lawman. His heart skipped a beat but that was the only sign that Larabee was having any effect on him.
"You can't touch us; we're government issue," Jimbo chuckled.
"Not in my town you're not," Chris countered. "You're scum." He turned to JD, who tossed him the keys and a set of handcuffs. Vin raised his mare's leg and pointed it at the large Sergeant.
Jimbo grinned and slowly stood. "You are making a big mistake. So, we tried to roll a peacekeeper, big deal. We'll get a year at hard labor at most."
"What about burning and killing homesteaders?" Chris asked.
Roland flinched and Jimbo and Hutchins's cool demeanor melted slightly. Conner looked toward Roland hoping the Private wouldn't break.
"You ain't got no proof," Jimbo growled.
"Oh really, that ring you tried to steal belonged to the dead woman, Mrs. Schorr," JD broke in.
"What? We don't know nothing 'bout no dead woman. I just thought it was pretty," Jimbo smugly replied. "I wanted to give it to my girl."
"What about our friend you almost dragged to death," Vin venomously stated.
Jimbo noticeably stiffened, bringing a smile to Chris' face.
"He's still alive?" Roland blurted out, stepping toward the cell bars. Conner rolled his eyes and placed his face into his hands.
"Shut up!" Jimbo spat out at the young soldier. "I demand you send for my commanding officer."
"If either of them twitches, shoot 'em," Chris said to Vin as he opened the cell door. "Face the wall and put your hands behind your back."
Jimbo tried to bring moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth. Seeing Vin's mare's leg pointing at him, he slowly turned around. He had no doubt the long-haired tracker would shoot him.
Chris slammed the Sergeant against the bars with enough force to drive some of the breath from his chest. He snapped the cuffs on the large man and shoved him out of the cell. Vin slammed the cell door shut and glanced over at Roland who looked like he was going to faint.
"JD, get Mr. Brandies to watch the prisoners. I want you to head out to the Army camp and bring the Major," Chris stated as he pushed the Sergeant out the door of the jailhouse.
"Will do, Chris."
Vin handed JD the key then turned back to the remaining prisoners. "Don't worry, boys, we won't forget you all," he sneered. The others paled and Roland fell heavily onto his cot.
Chris pushed the subdued Sergeant across the street, barely allowing him to keep his feet. As he passed by a horse Chris grabbed a rope that hung off the saddle.
Larabee shoved Jimbo Mayes through the clinic door. The Sergeant staggered, and crashed into the side of the dresser. His earlier confident attitude deserting him, and his stomach churned at the look on Larabee's face.
"What the hell are you going to do to me?" Jimbo stammered and his eyes widened at the gambler's pale form stretched out on the bed. He looked at the gunslingers surrounding the bed, seeing the same look of hate on all their faces. He felt like a deer surrounded by a pack of wolves. He turned back to Larabee. "I demand you wait until my commanding officer is here."
Chris ignored the Sergeant's demands as he deftly formed a noose at one end of the rope and then flung it over the rafter. Without a word, Chris placed a chair under the noose. Josiah and Buck regarded each other, then seeing what Chris had in mind they moved forward, grabbing Jimbo by the arms as he started to step back.
"You can't do this," Jimbo protested, his eyes wide with fright as he stared at the noose.
Buck and Josiah forced the Sergeant up onto the chair. Josiah grabbed the noose, fitting it over the Sergeant's neck. Chris pulled the rope taut and tied the free end to the leg of the heavy desk that Nathan used to mix his vile potions.
Josiah and Buck returned to their positions at Ezra's side as if nothing unusual was happening. Buck actually smiled up at the terrified Sergeant.
Chris grabbed another chair and sat down, putting his foot on the chair that Sergeant Jimbo Mayes stood precariously on.
"You're crazy! All of you!" Jimbo spat out, fear causing his breaths to come out in fear-filled pants. The chair wobbled under his shaky legs and he finally locked his knees to steady himself.
"If Ezra dies, you die," Chris calmly and simply stated, removing a cheroot from his pocket and sticking it into his mouth.
"You can't do this to me."
"Figure if Ezra dies, you can follow him to the hereafter and beg his forgiveness, or at least give him a fair chance to shoot you," Buck said.
Josiah stepped forward and glared with unconcealed hate into the soldier's terrified face. "Well, brother, I suggest that you pray very hard for our friend's recovery. Your life depends on it."
The hours ticked by, the only sound in the room was Ezra's struggling and irregular breaths. The five lawmen would hold their own breaths during each pause, fearing the loss of their friend. Sergeant Mayes would also hold his breath but in fear of losing his life.
Larabee remained seated, his foot resting on the chair that held up Jimbo's life. He could tell the soldier was getting tired as he kept shifting from one foot to the other.
Jimbo stared down at the conman, finding himself praying that the man would live. There was no doubt in his mind that the dark-clad gunslinger would hang him when the cardshark died. He watched as the dark healer bathed the gambler's chest and face with cool rags. Jimbo watched as all five of the gunslingers had in some way touched, or comforted the dying man. All his years in the army, he had never seen such loyalty and concern for another, or maybe he just never wanted to see it. He continued to watch as Ezra struggled for breath, demanding and praying that the man's chest rise.
tbc