"I'm sorry, Miss. I know this can't be feelin' too good," Nathan apologized, aware of the sharp hiss his patient emitted in response to his fingertips grazing against the edges of the wound at her side while her hands fisted in the blanket pooled around her legs, "Just checkin' to see it's healin' up right."
"It's not your fault."
"Ain't yours, either."
"Did someone give you reason to believe that I thought it was?" Annabelle asked, her eyes searching Nathan's as he met her gaze, only the faintest flicker of apprehension making its way into his expression, before he forced it away entirely. Regardless of the effort, it was still enough for the young woman to gather enough certainty that her initial assumption had, in fact, been correct, and so she resisted the urge to emit another gasp as she felt her companion beginning to wind some clean fabric around her midsection, opting instead for simply redirecting her attention to the position of her left hand where it propped her against the straw mattress, and attempted to keep the conversation going on her own.
"Chris."
"He might've mentioned somethin' like that," Nathan confessed, keeping his eyes fixed upon the task at hand, and yet somehow still recognizing the slight shift in his patient's position that indicated she had deflated just a bit in response, "If you don't mind my askin', how do the two of you know each other, anyway?"
"I was-I was close with his wife. We grew up together," Annabelle informed, wondering exactly how much she truly ought to divulge, not knowing what Chris had already told those he so clearly considered to be his friends, "I suppose poor Chris had to at least tolerate me whether he wanted to or not because of that."
"Seems to me like he does a bit more than tolerate you."
"Really?"
"Don't think Chris Larabee lets people stay 'round him if he don't like 'em at least a bit," Nathan shrugged, risking a glance at Annabelle's expression in response to the claim, and smiling a bit as he realized she had offered him a meager grin of her own in return, "Figured you knew that as much as I do."
"That might be true."
"Reckon it is."
"You know him well, then?" Annabelle inquired, biting down on her lower lip as she scooted back a bit on the cot, and tugging the blanket up to cover her torso not long after, "I mean-you don't-if you don't want to answer that-"
"I know him about as well as he lets anyone know him. Think you know what that means."
"I think I do. And this-this business with Hank, it's not-"
"It's not what?"
"It's not him. Not really," Annabelle clarified, watching as Nathan took to the task of clearing the supplies he had used to tend to her wound, and lifting a hand to tuck some of the hair that had fallen free from the braid hanging down her back behind her ear before going on, "I think he just-needs time."
"To come 'round to the idea of helpin' a man he never thought he'd see again?"
"Somethin' like that."
"You plannin' on bringin' him 'round, then?" Nathan asked, curious, even in spite of the slight hint of apprehension that made itself known in his companion's expression. From what little he had seen of his patient's own trials, and the reactions that even the hint of those struggles had provoked in the man they discussed, he felt he had a pretty decent idea of the answer to the question without even having to ask. And although he did not know the woman that well, it had not taken Nathan long to determine that Annie might just be the one woman that could change Chris Larabee's mind, if given half a chance.
The sudden surety in her expression as she eyed him from her place on the cot only proved that his suspicion had been right all along.
"I'm sure gonna try. Though he might hate me for it, I'm gonna try."
"You really think he would hate you, for just tryin' to do the right thing?"
Caught off guard with how quickly she realized she did not have a satisfactory answer to the question, Annabelle remained silent for a moment, her brow furrowed as she averted her gaze to her hands resting with fingers twined together in her lap. In the time since she had known Chris Larabee, she had never once taken him for a man to allow anyone to steer him towards a path he did not want to traverse. And although she was still every bit as determined to somehow persuade him to help Hank Conley out of the trouble he seemed to have gotten himself into almost overnight, Annabelle would have been a fool to pretend she was not apprehensive, a frown marring her features as she forced herself to meet Nathan's gaze once again, and attempted to corral her muddied thoughts into words.
"I don't-I guess I don't know," She admitted, exhaling, and leaning back against the pillow behind her while Nathan resumed the chair he had been sitting in nearby, "I just don't-I don't want him to think I'm meddlin'."
"Hank's your friend, right?"
"He is."
"Way I see it, his affairs concern you, then. No meddlin' to be found in that."
"I appreciate you sayin' that."
"Not just sayin' it if I think it's true," Nathan assured, leaning forward to reach for one of Annie's hands in order to provide what he hoped would be a reassuring squeeze, and noting that she returned the gesture almost immediately, regardless of her apparent hesitation as far as Chris Larabee was concerned, "Way I see it, Chris is gonna be smart enough to realize that, whether he wants to admit to it or not."
Forcing herself to manage a nod, whether she truly felt she was capable of believing the words at the moment, or not, Annabelle gently withdrew her hand, and did as best she could to summon another smile, her eyes meeting Nathan's once again as he moved to stand, his gaze shifting towards the door just as it opened, and revealed a tall blonde woman holding a tray of what appeared to be breakfast, with a tentative smile curving her lips.
"Thought you two might be hungry," She said, allowing Nathan to take the tray so that she could move into the room, blue eyes glancing towards Annie for a moment, before turning to Nathan instead, "Mr. Larabee needs you down at the saloon after you get a bite to eat."
"You mind stayin' here with Annie while I'm gone? Not too sure she should be movin' around without help just yet."
"I'd be happy to, just so long as she doesn't mind."
"No, I-I don't mind at all," Annie agreed, eyeing the tray Nathan sat on the table beside her, and frowning as she realized he was headed back to the door without taking anything for himself, "You aren't-you're not going to eat anythin?"
"I'll grab somethin' over at the saloon," Nathan assured, reaching for the hat he kept on a peg beside the door, and securing it on his head with a nod for both Mary and Annie, before turning to depart, "I'll be back to check in on ya later, ma'am."
"Yeah. Yeah, I'll-I'll see you later."
Whatever her feelings may have been about being beholden to anyone in this town for a problem she truly ought to have been able to manage on her own may have been, Annie was not so foolish that she was willing to ignore the very real gratitude she felt over the care she had received thus far at the hands of a practical stranger.
She could only hope that they could somehow find it within themselves to show Hank Conley the same.
…
"Ms. Travis said you wanted to see me?" Nathan greeted, sliding into the open seat between Buck and Vin, and accepting the platter of bacon and eggs that Chris nudged his way without ever taking his eyes away from the older man's face. As usual, his expression was unreadable, save for the slight twitch apparent against his jaw. And although Nathan was not generally a man who liked to tempt fate, he was also not entirely willing to ignore the reality of what he knew Chris had to be experiencing in the wake of the two new arrivals, his own expression empathetic to say the least as he swallowed down a bite of bacon before taking the liberty of speaking once more.
"This about Annie and Hank?"
"How's she doin'?"
"Good. Better than I expected, truth be told. Mary's with her now."
"Reckon it'll do her some good to have a lady friend to talk to," Vin mused, noting Nathan's almost immediate nod in agreement, and risking a glance at Chris not long thereafter, "Hank still at the church with Josiah?"
"Thinkin' about switchin' with him in a minute or two," Buck replied, downing the last of his coffee, and placing the tin mug back on the table with a muted clink before going on, "Got a lot to catch up on with ole Hank."
"This ain't a game, Buck."
"Wasn't plannin' on treatin' it that way, Chris. Just got a couple of questions for him is all."
"Perhaps I might join you in your interrogations, Mr. Wilmington."
"Why's that, Ezra?"
"Call it a simple curiosity over what he might have to tell us," Ezra shrugged, aware of the almost disapproving glance Chris had given him in response, and amending the suggestion as best he could in the aftermath, "Unless Mr. Larabee has reason to object."
As the men gathered around the table might have predicted, no response was immediately forthcoming, the silence that took over heavy with the unspoken knowledge of exactly what recent events were costing them. They had not needed words to gather the precise nature of the tension that existed between Hank Conley, and the man they had all unanimously agreed upon as their leader. But even in spite of the knowledge that pressing Chris Larabee for details on a matter he seemed to genuinely wish to avoid was something only a foolish man would undertake, it seemed not all of them were entirely willing to resist, the shared look that passed between Nathan, Vin and Buck serving as the only warning before the latter took matters into his own hands, regardless of the potential consequences that may come about as a result.
"Reckon I could use the company," Buck said, aware of the slightest hints of a smile that flitted across Ezra's features, though the same was certainly not mirrored in Chris' expression as he turned his attention towards his old friend, instead, "What're we gonna do with him, Chris? We can't just leave him in the church and expect the people that are after him to never search the place."
"Ain't figured that out yet."
"Seems your place might be our best bet."
"Don't know," Chris replied, pushing his chair back and reaching for the hat he had placed beside his plate, his gaze lingering on Buck's features for only a moment before he prepared to depart, "Seems to me that's not your call."
"Aw, c'mon, Chris, I was only-"
"Let him go, Buck," Vin intervened, placing a restraining hand on Buck's arm as he made the attempt to rise and follow after Chris, his familiarity with their companion's quirks allowing him to recognize almost immediately when it would be foolish to attempt to restrain him from going where he would. It had not taken long for the tracker to pick up on the tension that both Hank Conley, and his female companion had provoked, though he suspected it came more so from the former, than the latter. And although he would bet his life on the fact that Chris had absolutely no desire to let his father-in-law come to any real harm, regardless of the nature of their relationship, he also knew that the man he had come to regard as a friend was also not about to leave the woman that had arrived in town on Hank's heels to pay the price.
Chris Larabee would not leave the injured woman behind, and that gave Vin every reason to believe that the trio would remain in town until she was able to travel as well.
If that meant they faced the men holding Hank responsible for a murder sooner rather than later, he supposed, he truly would not find reason to complain.
…
Hank Conley watched the two men approaching the church through the window near the door, the only sound being the occasional thud of a hammer striking against a nail as the man who proclaimed himself to be a preacher repaired one of the boards lining the wall. The two had not shared much in the way of conversation, beyond the exchange of names, and Hank's own vague description of what had brought him to the town to begin with. And although the other man-Josiah-had accepted his companion's reticence thus far, the older man highly doubted the same would be permitted as soon as the familiar figure of Buck Wilmington stepped through the door.
The man had never been one to let sleeping dogs lie, and Hank had every reason to believe that the notorious carouser would be more than willing to pry into his motivations, whether he wanted him to or not.
"How's our mutual friend, Josiah?" The man called, moving to perch on the edge of one of the pews, a brief nod towards Hank serving as acknowledgement of his own presence, before he went on, "Came to relieve ya if ya needed a bite to eat."
"Appreciate it, brother," Josiah remarked, placing the hammer he had been wielding down on a nearby chair, and wiping a hand across his brow as he glanced towards his newfound charge with something not all that far from sympathy apparent in his gaze, "Seems he's doin' alright. Reckon he may be hungry as well."
"Chris said he should probably stay here."
"Don't need no permission from Chris Larabee to get a bite to eat."
"Perhaps we might manage to reach a compromise that would be agreeable to both parties," Ezra suggested, not missing the skepticism inherent in Hank's expression, just as he noted the way Buck had almost immediately opened his mouth to protest, forcing him to raise a hand to stall his companion so he could speak again, instead, "Miss Travis managed to procure a tray for our injured damsel. It seems possible she might do the same for our friend here, as well."
"Annie alright?"
"Yeah, Hank. She's fine," Buck supplied, aware that Ezra's suggestion seemed to be the most reasonable, and opting for nudge Hank towards the realization, himself, by using the man's obvious concern for Annabelle Latham to his advantage, "An' she wouldn't want you riskin' exposure just for a little breakfast. Let someone bring it to you."
"I wanna see her," Hank argued, determination giving his words an edge that they might not have had, if the circumstances were different, and guilt over his own role in Annie's predicament had never come to weigh heavily on his mind, "Where's she at?"
"Can't let ya do that, Hank. You need to stay put."
"Why the hell do I gotta do that?"
"Because the people that are after ya are stayin' in this town," Buck explained, dragging a hand through his hair, and exhaling in exasperation as he read in Hank's expression that his words had little to no effect at all on the older man's apparent determination to do what he pleased, "Listen, Hank, I know it ain't easy, but-"
"You're damned right it ain't easy!"
"But we're gonna need ya to stay where you're at for right now. Least, til we figure out what we're gonna do next."
"Seems to me what to do next is pretty clear," Hank pressed, keeping his attention entirely fixed on Buck, despite the lingering awareness of the two other men watching the entire interaction with what appeared to be bated breath, "I got as much right to keep that girl safe as anyone in this room."
"No one's sayin' that ya don't. But ya ain't doin' her any favors if ya go an' get yourself killed by doin' somethin' stupid."
"He'll be comin' for her too, ya know. You an' your friends ready to take that on?"
"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Conley, who, exactly, is this 'he' that you refer to?" Ezra inquired, effectively garnering the attention of not only the man he addressed, but Buck as well, and suppressing a smile over the success of having diverted what might have turned into a rather nasty argument, first-hand, "There are already a number of gentlemen in town that might fit the title."
"I ain't talkin' about them," Hank informed, turning away from Buck, and facing the man that had spoken instead, his expression muddied, to say the least as he ran a hand across tired features, and turned his attention back towards the window beside the open door to the church for a moment, as though expecting the individual he referenced to make an appearance at any moment, "I'm talkin' about Annie's husband. Matthew Latham."
If Hank knew anything at all, it was that Matthew's determination to get his wife back would likely pale in comparison to the desire for vengeance held by the men that were out for his own blood…
And if he thought he could not take Annie on his own, he would be far too likely to involve his brothers in the hunt, as well.
…
Hello there, angels! And welcome (finally!) to a brand new chapter in Annie's tale! I have to confess, as per usual, this one took me in a slightly different direction than I had planned when I first sat down to start writing. So I do hope that isn't too objectionable? I guess Hank and the rest of the boys wanted some screen time, so Mary and Annie's chat will simply have to wait for the next time around ;).
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to all of you that have taken the time to give this story a chance from the start! And special thanks also ChiTown4ever for always leaving such consistently lovely reviews (that may or may not send me into giddy grin mode for far longer than I'm really comfortable with admitting). I truly do appreciate the support, and as always, I cannot wait to hear what everyone thinks this time around!
Until next time, my dears…
MOMM