The Trade

PART 3

Buck removed his hat as he entered the clinic. Chris and Vin had insisted that he see JD first. The smell of sweat and blood caused the full grip of fear to twist inside him leaving no room for anger. He didn't know what he'd do if he lost JD. Josiah relinquished his chair by the bed and Buck smiled at the ex-preacher and sat. "He's going to be fine, Buck." Josiah's gentle tenor eased some of Buck's fear. Wilmington gazed at his young friend lying still on the bed. JD always appeared boyish, like a child who shouldn't be playing in a man's world. Buck carefully touched the wide bandage that encircled the young gunslinger's chest. JD's skin was as pale as the linens covering him. Buck grew anxious laying his palm on his friend's chest, relaxing when he felt the slight rise and fall of air passing through his lungs.

Nathan stood at his small dresser, mixing herbs to help alleviate JD's pain. They all worried about the young gunslinger, but Buck bordered more on a fatherly concern. Nathan smiled slightly JD could have a lot worse than Buck as a father.

"He's goin' to sleep awhile, Buck." The healer assured as he poured the ground herbs into a small teakettle, distilling the medicine further. "He lost a lot of blood. Let him be now."

"You hang on, JD, you hear me?" Buck whispered into the young man's ear as he pushed the black mop of unruly hair from his face. JD remained unresponsive, suspended in a private realm between life and death.

"JD!" Buck's whisper was harsh this time. He wanted the kid back. He had an urgent need for JD to exist in his world, though he was hard-pressed to explain why. Buck leaned even closer, his warm breath moving across JD's face. "JD, please don't die."

The soft creak of the door announced Vin entering the clinic. He moved through the room with Chris behind him, creating one shadow that glided across the floor and then lay still across JD's unconscious form.

Buck felt the presence of his friends and wondered if JD could, too. He sagged a little, exhausted; this aggravating, shit-eating, damn day nearly wiped him out. Without a sound, Nathan was behind him. The healer's long fingers gripped his shoulders.

"Buck, leave him be, I said." Nathan's voice was soft and reassuring. "He's breathing real good. He's strong. He's young." Jackson's words spoke directly to Buck's heart and he waited like a man dying in the desert for the final flow to wash over him. "He's going to make it. He can survive this."

The healer's optimism gave Buck the strength to stand and join Chris and Vin at the foot of the bed, all three lost in the same thoughts.

What happened? Why was the kid alone? Where was Ezra?

Chris observed the anguish on Buck's face and understood his pain. They were all linked to each other, even a certain wily gambler, and there was no turning back. Their friendship was worth any amount of heartache that life threw their way.

Josiah sat somberly in a chair on the other side of the bed. His gray eyes cast a reproachful gaze over the other lawmen. He, too, wondered about Ezra's absence. He had heard the fighting outside the clinic door and if he hadn't been holding the broken body of the youngest lawman he would have intervened. He knew the others would not soon forgive the gambler for this indiscretion. But why did Ezra leave JD unprotected? There had to be more to the story he only hoped the others allowed Ezra the opportunity to explain.

Josiah had faith. He believed he had glimpsed the real Ezra Standish under his pretense of arrogance and self-importance. He saw a man who yearned to care for others and to experience that concern in return. But Ezra was fighting a lifetime of mistrust and abuse from strangers and family alike. His profession created its own form of prejudice, forcing him to maintain a mask of apathy. Josiah sensed the gambler was looking for a home, just like the rest of them, only he didn't want to admit it, even to himself.

Vin walked over to the window and peered out the dirty glass. He saw movement near the livery and watched Ezra emerge from the stable and head out of town. He folded his arms across his chest and watched horse and rider sink into the desert landscape. Vin knew he had waited too long to intercede between his three friends. Why had he hesitated?

He glanced back at the darkly dressed gunslinger; the man was like a brother to him. Chris didn't fully trust the conman, and Vin wondered if Chris' doubts had clouded his own belief. They should have given Ezra a chance to explain, but tempers were hot, and when it came to the gambler Buck and Chris were more likely to act first and question later. Vin wiped a hand across his face as he looked over the town he called home. Would Ezra ever be able to call it home as well?

JD stirred. The other five lawmen all shifted positions, their focus now locked on the young man. His chin lifted, his back arched and his eyes squeezed shut tight. His soft, pain-filled gasp filled the room with a nearly soundless aria that pierced the tough men's senses. As one, they took a step forward and JD opened his eyes for a moment.

"Buck?" It was more a breath than a word but they all heard it. "S-sorry…sorry, Buck."

In a heartbeat, Buck was back at the bedside. He slid his hand beneath JD's head. He meant to have a word with him, to tell the kid it was OK, ain't nothin' to be sorry for, but instead, he just held JD steady while Nathan made the young sheriff drink. It was putrid—an awful smelling thing the healer dosed him with, but the kid didn't seem to know. He swallowed the stuff and when he opened his eyes again, he was breathing easier.

JD locked his gaze with the ladies' man, his brows furrowed. This time it seemed the young Sheriff meant to have a stern word with Buck, but no sound emerged. He exhaled deeply and dropped into an acute, drug-induced slumber. Buck set the kid's head back on the pillow and plowed his now free hand through the tangled mass of black hair.

Nathan grasped Buck's shoulder again. "Let him be now, Buck. Ya hear me?" Buck stood and moved to join the men at the foot of the bed. "Y'all get out now. Let him rest." Nathan took a step toward the group, herding them out the door. "He's gonna make it. He'll be up and pesterin' y'all with his sorry jokes before ya know it." Nathan closed the door behind the lawmen and returned to JD's small form pulling the blanket up to his chin.

"Please, Lord." He whispered. "Help him survive this."

M7M7M7M

The four gunslingers meandered aimlessly into the saloon stopping at the first table that crossed their path. Vin continued to the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and four glasses. He laid the glassware in the center of the table and fell heavily into a chair. He stretched his arms over his head trying to relieve the tightness that had settled into his shoulders.

Buck grabbed the bottle. Forgoing a glass, he took a long draw of the fiery liquor. Now that his fear for JD had lessened, he needed something to burn away the remorse that was starting to gnaw his insides.

"Four of them outlaws got away," Vin removed his hat and placed it on the table. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Buck and filled a glass.

"We'll go after 'em tomorrow," Chris tiredly replied. At the moment, he really didn't care about a bunch of inept outlaws. He cared about his friends. They were more than a crew of gunslingers paid to protect a town, they were family. Chris picked up the shot that Vin poured for him and studied the dark amber liquid. Did Ezra feel it? Did he want to be a part of them? He hadn't left town when his thirty days were up. Chris had to believe that Ezra was searching for some meaning, some purpose to his life, just like the rest of them.

"What happened?" Vin asked leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. Chris looked over his glass at the tracker.

"What'cha mean?" Exhausted, Buck was already feeling the effects of the drink on his empty stomach. It had been a long day already and it was barely noon. He might have to agree with Ezra, they didn't get paid enough. This unexpected consensus caused him to grab the bottle of whiskey and take another swallow.

Vin leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table. He looked sternly at Buck. "You think Ezra ran out on JD, don't you?" Vin's glare dared the mustached cowboy to answer. "I don't believe that. There must have been a reason…"

"Sure, there's a reason," Buck snapped back. "There's always a reason, but it better be a damn good one."

"Buck, JD's a big boy. We all watch out for him, sure, but..." Chris paused and tossed back the shot of whiskey he held. He had seen the undisguised concern on Ezra's face at the clinic. Ezra wouldn't just leave the kid. "JD knows the dangers of being a lawman. He takes the same chances we all do."

"You think JD expects us to hold his hand?" Vin threw back another shot.

Buck glared at the young tracker and then looked over at Chris as he released a long- tired breath.

"Ah, Hell." When it came to Ezra, it was hard to know what to think. They had been working together for a couple months now, and Ezra was always there to back them up, except for that incident at the Seminole village. Was that first mistake still influencing his feelings toward the southerner? "He better have a good explanation," Buck quietly muttered.

"Saw Ez ride out. He didn't have any packs, probably just needed some breathin' space," Vin commented, driving the knife of guilt a little deeper into each of them.

"Don't you have anything to say, preacher?" Chris asked. When it came to Ezra, Josiah was usually his first defender.

"I believe I'll wait until all the evidence is in," Josiah knowingly replied. He threw back a shot of whiskey himself and slammed the glass on the table, daring any of them to disagree.

TBC