Thanks everyone for once again taking the time to read our story and to those who were able to review. Yes, we are aware that we have been rather cruel to Griff and we aren't quite finished with that yet but there is a reason for everything that he is going through, and we promise to return him in more or less one piece by the end of the story which is a long, long way away...until then, we hope you aren't going to throw raccoons at us for mistreating the lad. Sometimes us H/C writers get a little carried away...
Strolling around the living room without his crutch, Adam could not stop thinking about Griff. A part of him still hung on to the notion that the young man was somehow involved with his kidnapping while another part was still concerned for his well-being. Either way, he wished his father would return with the teenager soon. He spotted Joe, without his sling, sitting on the couch. "Joe, what are you doing? You know the doctor said your slings stays on until tomorrow."
The younger, more mischievous brother triumphantly put his feet on the table. "That he did, Adam. That he did. Then again, the doc also said you shouldn't be without that crutch until the weekend."
"Touché." Adam took a seat on the lounger across from Joe and inspected the pile of books under Joe's feet. Without warning, he yanked the books out from under Joe. "Feet off the table," Adam smirked. Turning his attention back to the book, he uncovered a book that he did not recognize. Fingering the worn leather binding with admiration, he opened it.
Joe teased, "Found one you haven't read yet?"
"No, no." Adam skimmed the first page then abruptly shut the book. "Looks like a diary. Is this yours?"
"No," Joe answered. He looked up and instantly recognized the book. "Oh, better be careful with that. It's Griff's. He's always scribbling in that thing if he's got any free time." He tried to take it from Adam, but his older brother pulled the journal out of Joe's limited reach.
Adam examined the book with awe. "Maybe there's something in there about planning the kidnapping! That'd be all the evidence we need."
"Yes, and if he's innocent? That's a complete breach of trust." After a pause, Joe added, "Then again..."
"Come on, if you were me, wouldn't you want to know one way of the other?" Adam impetuously insisted.
"I don't know Adam. I just don't think this is the right way to go about finding the truth whatever it may be. Can't you just wait until Pa comes back with Griff before you do something you might regret. I mean, who knows what kind of personal things Griff has in that journal of his that no one else knows about," Joe tried to reason with his brother.
"I'll think about it," Adam finally compromised. He stood and stretched, glad the pain in his leg has decreased to a dull, manageable ache. "And I think I'll hit the hay. G'night, Joe.
Joe wished Adam goodnight and watched carefully to make sure Adam could handle the stairs himself.
Returning as fast as he could to Griff's room, Jack placed a tray laden with a bowl of water, a rag, a glass of water, and some salve on the bedside table.
In Jack's absence, Griff had started to fidget with the bandages wrapped around his torso, feeling they were too constricted. The wrapping had started coming undone.
"Now, why did you do a thing like that for, huh?" Jack chided gently, noticing the loosened bindings around Griff's midsection.
"Sorry," mumbled Griff. "I couldn't breathe."
"Alright, well we may as well get them off and treat those bruises." Jack helped Griff prop himself up against the pillows. The very effort was enough to make the boy breathless.
Jack hissed under his breath as his eyes scanned over the damage that the bandages had been concealing and protecting. He noticed stitches on his left side, which indicated the boy probably had busted ribs that needed realignment. Having had a similar injury himself, the bartender could sympathize. What worried him deeply, though, were the bruises below the youth's rib cage. He had not seen anything that bad before and once again, anger flared inside him at the thought of anyone inflicting this level of damage to anyone, let alone a kid who weighed less than most people his age. He no longer suspected Eddie of being solely responsible. No, this was the work of two or more men. Men who had taken pleasure in making Griff suffer. If they had wanted to kill the boy, it would've taken less blows to the head, but it was obvious that whoever worked him over had been careful to hit Griff in places that would not necessarily kill him, at least, not quickly. As gently as he could, Jack started applying the salve across Griff's ribs then down over his abdomen. He felt the boy tensing and flinching. Jack's brow creased as he applied the ointment over Griff's stomach, feeling some swelling in the area.
"Easy, easy. We're almost done," Jack soothed when Griff became unsettled. "You'll feel better soon."
Griff did feel the pain to his ribs easing but his stomach was still sore. He recalled he still had laudanum pills on him and pulled them out of his pants pocket. Jack took the bottle from Griff and gave him a questioning look, checking out what they were.
"Laudanum," Griff clarified.
Understanding dawned on Jack and he opened the bottle, handing two pills to Griff and a glass of water. He placed the bottle on the table, taking note that Griff was now down to his last two. Lying back against the pillows, Griff closed his eyes and starting counting in his head, waiting for the pain to fade away.
"Griff, we need to get those ribs re-wrapped," Jack reminded the boy, who almost had dropped off into blissful unawareness. "You can't leave 'em like that."
"No, please," the teenager begged.
Jack saw the boy paled even more at the prospect of what he knew was to come. "We'll get it done and over with quickly. I won't wrap them up too tightly, I promise, okay?"
Griff nodded and prepared himself for the agonizing ordeal. Jack helped Griff sit up then as efficiently and gently as he could, the kindly bartender started to bind the bandages around the boy's torso. The minutes were like years to Griff. By the time Jack had secured the bandage in place, his face was drenched with perspiration.
Jack eased Griff back against the pillows then took the rag, dampened it with some water and wiped the boy's face. Realizing he had not properly introduced himself to the Griff yet, Jack said, "Name's Jack. Jack Planchett. Your name really Griff? Just Griff?"
"Yeah. King. Griff King," he established. "Thank you, Jack. For...everything."
"Get some rest, Griff," Jack advised.
This time, Griff grasped Jack's arm as the heavy-set man rose from the chair. "Don't shut the door. Please?"
Jack was taken aback by the request, but he nodded. "I won't. My room's just down the hall. I need to close up the bar. I'll check in on you before I turn in," he promised. "You just hang in there and get some sleep."
"Thanks." Griff was relieved, hoping maybe this time he will not have to endure any more nightmares. He hated closed in spaces when he was left on his own. It did not bother him so much to have the door closed in the bunkhouse because he was never alone.
With one last look at the wounded boy, Jack left the room, leaving the door partially opened.