Bass is done waiting on Miles. There is always something else more important than finding his kid. There was the school lab, then there was a raid on a supply train. Followed a few days later by an attack on a training camp. Bass had run out of patience. After each mission, he would ask Miles about finding Connor. Miles kept putting him off. Well, he was done.
The morning after their mission taking out the training camp, he gets up at sunrise, grabs his pack, and saddles Chamberlain. Just as he is about to ride out, Charlie calls to him.
"You're leaving."
"I'm tired of waiting, Charlie. I'm done waiting. I'm gonna find my kid."
"Did Miles tell you where he is or was?"
"No, all I know is that he's in Mexico."
"Big place…"
"Yeah, but I've got to try."
"I'll come with you."
"No… Charlie. Stay with Miles and your mom."
"Will you be back?"
"Maybe… probably… I don't know."
"Bass, come back, please..."
He could see the tears that she was fighting. Charlotte, forever strong. Bass jumped from his horse and pulled Charlie in for a hug and a quick, chaste kiss.
"Take care of yourself, Charlotte," then he mounted and took off at a canter.
Thirty minutes later, Miles woke and was returning from his trip to the woods when he spotted Charlie near the fire pit. "Hey, Charlie, have you seen Bass? I've got some info on Patriot activity to the south."
"He left about a half-hour ago. Said he was done waiting."
"Damn it, impatient asshole. He's never gonna find him, and we need him back here… Rachel, wake up!" he bellowed.
"Miles, what's wrong?" Rachel asks sleepily.
"We've gotta go after Bass."
"Just tell me, why in the hell do we have to go after him. Let him go, good riddance."
"Rachel, like it or not, we still need him. We can't fight these khaki assholes without him."
"I'll go, Miles."
"No, stay here with Aaron and your grandpa. I need your mother to keep me sane, and they need you to protect them, keep them out of trouble."
Fifteen minutes later, they were off chasing down Bass.
After a couple of miles, Bass slowed to a trot. Not having a clue as to where he was going, he figured that he would get to the border, find a place to cross, and go from there. (He's probably in a border town, can't imagine that Miles went that far in.)
He continued south until approximately noon, then looked for a spot to let his horse rest and for him to take a break and have something to eat. A half-hour later, he came upon a clear running stream, decided that was a good spot, and settled in. He tethered his horse where he could drink and nibble at the tender grasses growing near the water. Bass thought about taking off the saddle to really rest his horse but decided to leave it in case he needed a quick getaway. There was a small copse of trees where he settled to sit and think.
Miles and Rachel made good time. Bass had slowed his pace, and they kept up theirs hoping to catch him. As luck would have it, there hadn't been any other riders in the area for some time, making Bass' tracks as plain as day to follow and leading them right to Bass' rest stop.
Bass heard riders approaching, got out his gun, and readied his sword. Miles rode up. "Easy Bass, just us."
Bass tucked his gun away. "Miles, what are you doing here?" He said around a bite of apple.
"I told you that I'd help you find your son. You're an impatient son-of-a-bitch. What were you going to do? Search all of Mexico?"
"Really, Miles? I'm impatient? I've been waiting weeks. There's always something else. I'm done waiting."
Rachel had been unusually quiet. Bass looked over at her. "Rachel…surprised to see you here."
She huffed, "Bass…Believe me, not my idea."
After an awkward moment, "Okay, then. Why not rest your horses, you must have ridden fairly hard to have caught up with me. Grab a bite."
Rachel and Miles dismounted, got their horses settled, and joined Bass in the shade.
"Okay, Miles, it's your show now. Where from here?" Bass asked.
"Emma had an uncle in Acuña. He took him in. About a day and a half ride from here."
"Alright then, let's get going."
As they rode along, Miles and Bass chatted almost like old times, like the friends that they once were. Rachel remained surprisingly quiet until they made camp for the night.
"So, Bass. What do you plan on doing if we find your son?" Rachel asked.
"Hope to convince him to come back with us."
"Do you really think that after all of this time that he'll just drop whatever life he has and follow you?" said with contempt.
"I don't know, Rachel, but I gotta try. Would you leave Charlie? Danny? Oops…wait a minute…."
"You're an asshole."
"Yeah, well, at least I know what I am."
The following day they crossed the Rio Grande into Mexico. It was mid-day when they arrived in Acuña. "Looks like the town's been renamed "Acuña Nunez," Miles said, looking at the painted sign on the edge of the town.
The town was rife with prostitutes, open drunkenness, and drug use.
"Nice, Miles. You brought my kid here? What'd you do, buy him a blow job and an eight ball?" Bass said crudely.
"Jeez, it wasn't like this then; it was kind of nice."
"Well, where do we start?" Rachel asks.
"His uncle's place was down this street. Here, this is it." Miles knocked on the door, and after a moment, an older man opened it a crack, just enough to see who was there."
"I'm looking for Señor Rodríguez." Miles tried. The man didn't seem to understand. Rachel stepped forward and surprised both Miles and Bass by asking about Connor in perfect Spanish. The man's eyes went wide and told Rachel that he didn't know Rodriguez and knew nothing of Connor Bennett.
"Did he look frightened to you?" Rachel asked.
"Scared shitless," Bass agreed. "Now what?"
"Well, I don't know; that is where I left him."
Bass is disgusted and frustrated. "That's great, Miles. I need a drink. I say we hit the cantina; bars are usually a good place for info."
The cantina was busy, but they were able to get a table, they ordered drinks. Someone was playing guitar. Bass was looking morose.
The waitress brings their drinks, and Bass asks about all the guns on display in shoulder holsters. She looks nervous… "Señor Nunez, his men. They run this town. You're best to ignore them."
Looking around, they noticed the room was full of rough-looking Mexicans with shoulder holsters. "Miles, check out all the shoulder pieces…." Bass says.
"Have you ever heard of a guy, Connor Bennett?" Bass asks their waitress.
"Señor... It's best that we don't talk about that," she says and returns to help other customers.
Bass continues to ask around about Connor to a few of the men and draws the attention of a good-looking young man.
"May I ask, what's your interest in Connor Bennett?" the young man asks. He's a handsome young man, about twenty-six, with thick curly dark hair and dark eyes. Tall and trim at around six feet.
Bass, frustrated, gets flippant with him, "Miles, have you ever seen a whiter Mexican?"
"The young man reaches for his gun. "No one talks to me like that, asshole."
Miles jumps up from the table where they are sitting.
"Bass!" Miles says as he grabs his arm.
Bass looks at Miles, "What?"
"Bass! That's him. That's Connor."
Bass looks stunned. Now that he's looking, he can see Emma. "Connor?"
"Am I supposed to know you?"
"Is there somewhere we can talk?"
"We can talk here. Who the hell are you?"
"Ummm… I'm Sebastian Monroe…your father."
"Right…And I'm Poncho Loco. And, so, you're just coming here now?"
"I only just found out about you."
"Hey, I remember you; you're Miles, right? You took me from my mother and brought me here. Left me."
"Yup, that's me. What happened to your aunt and uncle?"
"They died about two years after I was left here, typhus. I had nowhere to go and was living on the street. Señor Nunez took me in, made me his son. So…Sebastian Monroe… I've got a father. One that took me from the street and adopted me, gave me a home. He's all the father that I need or want. So, why don't you just crawl back under the rock that you came from," Connor said, turning away from Bass and gathering his men as he left the cantina.
Bass is devastated. He didn't know what he expected, but that wasn't it, definitely not what he hoped for.
"Come on, Bass, let's get out of here," Miles says, tugging on his elbow. Bass left reluctantly.
Collecting their horses, they left the town and found a place to camp for the night.
Miserable, Bass sits alone near the fire, lost in thought, while Rachel and Miles share a meal. Things couldn't have gone worse.
(Why would he want to be with me. What have I got to offer him? I've got nothing—God Damn Miles for not telling me about my son, for taking him here. And Emma! Why didn't she tell me? I would've taken care of them. Why would he want to leave what he has, second in command of a drug cartel… The Republic, I'll offer him the Republic.)
Bass laid down on his bedroll and feigned sleep while waiting for Miles and Rachel to settle in. Once he was sure they were asleep, he got his horse and quietly walked him away from the campsite, then rode back to Acuña. He secured his horse on the edge of town and walked in, hoping to find Connor and convince him to at least hear him out.
Passing the cantina, there was Connor sitting at an outside table with a blonde hanging on his arm and a half dozen armed men around him.
"You again, I thought I told you to piss off."
"Connor, just give me five minutes, please," Bass said to him when he approached his table, hands stretched out in front, showing that he wasn't a threat.
Shaking off the blonde, "Five minutes, old man." Connor led Bass to a table in the corner.
"Connor, I'm sorry about what happened to you. You were taken from me before I even knew you existed. You're my son, my blood. You belong with me. I want to get to know you. We should be together. We'll get the Republic back, you and me. We can do it together. Never mind thirty or forty men, you'll be in command of thousands!" Bass will say anything to get Connor to follow him, deal with the consequences later. He doesn't want the Republic back. Hell, it's too far gone, but if Connor thinks he has something to offer…
Connor laughed, "What makes you think that I want your worthless Republic when I have all the power I could possibly want right here, right now. I have a sure thing right here. The Republic? The Republic is gone, old man. Do you think I don't know that? I wasn't sure of who you were before…you don't look very presidential. Sebastian Monroe, defunct General and washed-up president of the defunct Monroe Republic; wanted by Texas and those weird Patriot guys. I bet we could get a nice price for you." Then in Spanish, he calls his men in to take Bass, prisoner. His hands are bound, and he is led to the Nunez compound.
"Let's go…Dad. You're going to get to meet my real father.
Put him in the cell; I'm going to go see my father," Connor tells his men. "Carlos, stand guard; I don't know where his friends are. Sit tight…Dad."
Señor Hector Nunez is having a cigar and drink at his desk when Connor walks into his study. "Papa." Nunez stood, giving Connor a hug with a few back slaps.
"What have you been up to, my son?"
"I've brought you a gift. He's down in the cell."
"In the cell? A gift? Is it that piece of mierda, Ruiz Gomez?"
"No, No, but I think you'll be pleased. I have Sebastian Monroe!"
"Sebastian Monroe! Here? In Mexico? What is he doing here?"
"Looking for me, evidently. Says he's my father; my mother never told him about me."
"I am your father!"
"And so, I explained to him."
"Bring him here. I want to meet this, Sebastian Monroe."
Miles woke needing to use a tree and noticed that Bass was gone. (Son of a Bitch!)
"Rach, Rach, wake up. Bass is gone."
Rachel sits up, groans... "Gone? Again? Gone where?"
"I'm fairly sure that he went back to try with Connor again."
"Just leave him, Miles, if he wants to be stupid. He's nothing but trouble anyway."
"I can't leave him, Rach. He's in trouble, I know it. I can't just leave him. As much as I hate to admit it, and you hate to hear it, he's still m
Resigned, "You're right; I do hate it. He's a dark pit, and he pulls you in with him… Alright, let's go."
Miles and Rachel secured their horses at the edge of town. "He's here; there's his horse." They walked down the main street towards the cantina. In the bar, they heard talk of the capture of Sabastian Monroe and that Señor Nunez has him.
Bass is marched into Nunez's den. Connor lounges on the couch with yet another young woman hanging on him; Hector sips his whiskey while sitting at his desk. Hector Nunez is a pleasant-looking man in his fifties with thick salt and pepper hair. He is not particularly tall at five eight and of average build.
"So! This is the great Sebastian Monroe! What an honor to have you in my house! Connor and I discussed what to do with you. You will be sold to the highest bidder. Who do you think that will be…Texas or those Patriot hombre.
Bass says nothing, just gives his best smug president look.
"I hear that you claim to be Connor's father and that you tried to get him to leave me and go with you."
"I am his father. He was taken from me before I even knew about him," Bass says forcefully.
"I AM CONNOR'S FATHER! I TOOK HIM IN FROM THE STREET! I RAISED HIM! YOU WILL NOT TAKE WHAT IS MINE! NO ONE TAKES WHAT IS MINE!" Nunez bellowed. "You will find out how we deal with those who try to take something that belongs to me. Miguel, take El Presidente to the balcony and string him up."
"Si, Señor."
Bass was stripped of his shirt, his hands bound in front and hung from a hook on the balcony ceiling, with his feet barely touching the floor. Hector Nunez went to the balcony rail and called down to his party goers. The Nunez Hacienda was one continuous party.
"Look who has come to my house! The great Sebastian Monroe! Doesn't look so great now, does he," laughing while the crowd roars in agreement.
Rachel had latched onto one of Nunez's men outside the cantina by draping herself all over him. He was bragging about being one of the men that brought Monroe in. Rachel told him that she wanted to see the big bad General. Shrugging, he smiled, thinking that he would get lucky, he would do anything to please the blonde gringa, and so he led her into the Nunez Hacienda.
While Rachel was being walked in through the front door, Miles had followed a delivery wagon to the back of the hacienda. Grabbing some crates of beer, he followed the delivery men into the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, he broke away, hid, and waited for Rachel.
Nunez hands Connor the bullwhip and gives him a nod. Connor starts laying on the lashes, and he's not holding back. Bass is doing his best to not give them the satisfaction of crying out. His lip is bleeding from biting down. Connor is on his seventh strike, and Bass has all he can do to hold it together and not scream out; he groans as his knees buckle.
Rachel's escort walked her across the courtyard, and to her shock, there was Monroe, strung up like a side of meat being lashed by Connor. She stood in the crowd watching stone-faced as those around her cheered.
Connor had just laid on the eighth lash and looked to Hector. "Enough? Do you want to sell him or kill him?"
Nunez looked at him, then nodded and turned away.
"Cut him down," Connor ordered. "Return him to the cell."
Bass was cut down and dragged back to the cell in the basement. He was shoved into the cell, and his shirt was thrown at him. He crawled over to the wall and lay down on his stomach.
"You still want to meet him?" Juan asked Rachel. "He's not looking so good."
"I do; he took away my family. I want to spit in his face."
Juan grinned; he could understand that and led her to the kitchen and through to the cellar. Miles had been watching for her and then saw her coming into the kitchen with her escort. Hanging back, staying out of sight, he followed Rachel and her date into the basement.
Carlos had been sitting on a crate next to the cell when Rachel and Juan came in.
"Juan! Compadre! What are you doing here?"
"She wanted to meet the General," he tells his friend as he places an arm around Rachel's shoulders and giving him a look that lets him know what he is up to.
"Just a few minutes, not sure Señor Nunez would approve."
"Si, ¡un memento!"
Carlos stood up from his crate. Miles jumps out and grabs Juan before he can react and snaps his neck. Carlos goes for his gun, Miles is faster, and he meets Miles' sword.
"Rachel, quick, grab the keys!"
Bass had been lying on the floor of the cell semi-conscious. "Bass! Hey Bass! Miles calls out, hurrying across the cell. "Come on, buddy, we've gotta go,"
"Miles," Bass says weakly. "You're here…."
"Jesus Christ, Bass! Who did this?" Miles says, seeing his back.
"Connor, guess I should have hugged him more…" Bass moans.
"Your kid did this? Come on, we've got to go. Here let me help you with your shirt."
"Miles! Come on!" Rachel urges.
Miles helped Bass through the service tunnel, then taking back alleys, they made it to the horses.
With help from Miles, Bass managed to mount his horse, and the three galloped away. Each bounce in the saddle is excruciating. Reaching the camp, they had used the night before, they gathered up their things. Miles wanted to put some miles between themselves and Hacienda Nunez and his merry men. About an hour into their escape, Bass passed out, almost falling from his horse. Slumped over the saddle, Miles secured him, took Chamberlain's reigns, and led him along.
With Bass' injury, it took almost three days for them to make it back to base camp, arriving late afternoon. Charlie spotted them coming in and went to greet them. Miles and Rachel stopped when they reached her. Bass was silent as he just kept going to the barn where they kept the horses.
"How did it go? Where's Connor?" Charlie asked.
"He wouldn't come," Miles replies. "Actually, it was a disaster."
"Mr. Father of the year managed to get himself captured by a drug lord," Rachel adds. "We're lucky to have gotten out of there. If it had been up to me, I would have let them have him."
"Come on, Rachel. Ease up." Miles still hadn't completely forgiven Bass, but he felt somewhat responsible for what happened with Connor.
Bass took care of his horse, rubbed him down, and made sure that he was fed and watered. Finished, he picked up his pack, walked across the camp, still not saying anything, and went into the woods heading for the river. Reaching the river, he took off his boots and pants. Leaving his shirt on, he waded into the slow-moving river until he was up to his shoulders. The water, although stung at first, was cool and soothing on his back. Rachel had cleaned the lash wounds that first night they were on the road, but that was two days ago, and now his shirt is stuck to them.
Charlie had been watching for him to leave his horse and then watched him retreat into the woods. She decided to follow him, wanting to be sure that he was alright and to find out what happened. Following the game trail to the river, she popped out of the tree line and stopped dead. There was Bass, almost up to his neck in the river and with his clothes on. She panicked, thinking the worst. Thinking that he wanted to hurt himself. He had told her about one suicide attempt when his family was killed. Then about other times when he had thoughts of suicide, after Shelly, after Miles, and after the tower. He had so much self-hate. Charlie charged into the water.
"BASS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON'T!"
Bass had had his back to the shore and, hearing Charlie, turned around. "Charlotte?"
Running into the water, she went in as far as she could. The water was up to her shoulders, and she couldn't reach him. "Bass, what are you doing?"
"Trying to get my shirt off. What did you think I was doing?"
"I…Well… I heard about Connor…and I thought…. I thought you were going to hurt yourself."
"Charlotte, I'm okay. I'm disappointed in how things went. I wish things could have been better."
"Wait…Trying to get your shirt off? Why can't you get your shirt off?"
"I have some wounds on my back, and the shirt is stuck to them. I was hoping by wetting it, it would soak off."
"Bass?"
"It's a lot to explain, too much while standing in the river."
"I'm here and all wet; let me help you."
"I can manage. You should go back before Rachel finds you and has a cow."
"I'm not going anywhere. Mom can have a whole herd of cows for all I care. Now, don't be obstinate and let me help you. Come here."
Charlie had backed closer to the shore until the water was waist-deep, allowing her to comfortably stand. Bass waded to her. She helped him out of the sleeves then he hissed as she slowly peeled the shirt from his back. "Jesus! What the hell, Bass! Who did this to you?" She took a shuddering breath as she looked at the damage done to his back.
"Connor. He was ordered to by Nunez."
"Who's Nunez?"
"A Mexican drug lord, and evidently Connor's adoptive father. I had left Miles and Rachel at our camp and went off on my own to try and talk to Connor. Things didn't go exactly as planned."
"Bass, these need some attention before they become infected. A couple look like they are already on their way. There are two or three that could use a couple of stitches. Duck down and soak for a bit, then we should go and see grandpa."
"It's fine, Charlotte. I'll be fine."
"No… you won't. You'll get infected, and then you'll die."
"Maybe that's just what I deserve… dead by my own son's hands. It's not like anyone would care; in fact, they would probably be relieved… have a party."
"STOP IT! I CARE, YOU MORON! ALRIGHT? I CARE! Now, come back with me and see grandpa!"
"Charlie, I'll be okay, really. I can't deal with the snide remarks, hostility, and hate right now. I've had enough."
"Alright then, I'll go and get some supplies, wait for me, and I'll be right back."
"Not going anywhere."
Then she took his shoulders and pulled him close. "Charlotte?"
"Shhh..." Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him softly. Momentarily startled, then he pulled her close and kissed her back.
"Charlotte, this isn't a good idea. I'm no good for you; I've caused you so much pain. I'm too old, and with the price on my head, you could get hurt or worse just being near me."
"They think you're dead. I'm not worried. While you were gone, I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I realized that I have been deluding myself, denying my feelings for you. You've come to mean so much to me, Bass. You're my best friend. We've all done horrible things. I've heard you and Miles talking, more like arguing. He's just as much to blame as you are for the Republic, yet everything is fine with him. My dear mother… my dear mother, caused this whole shit show along with my dad. How many people were killed when that happened? She can't see that she's just as much to blame for Danny. She left my father. Left him, me, and Danny without looking back. She likes to throw my father's death at you, but did she really care? Bass, am I wrong? Do you care for me?"
"I care for you. I care for you very much, ever since Pottsboro…hell, probably the pool. Even when you were all sass and attitude. I'm really… I'm no good for you; I'm too old. I'll probably be dead before the year is out. You should be with someone younger, someone you can have a life with, a home, a future."
"Sebastian, this is my life. I need to live my life now, not wait for some fantasy that I may never live to see. Your age doesn't matter to me. YOU! You matter to me! I want to be with you."
Tears are running down his cheeks as he pulls her close. "I don't deserve you."
"Shhh, but you've got me," pulling him in for another kiss.
Charlie left the river and went back to camp. She went into the underground bunker and ran into Rachel. "Charlie! What on earth! Why are you all wet?"
"No worries, Mom. I slipped on a rock and fell in. No big deal."
Charlie changed out of her wet things, hung them to dry, and then went in search of her grandpa. "Mom, do you know where grandpa is?"
"I think he's in the shed, organizing his supplies. Why?"
"I just want to ask him a question."
"Well, can I help?"
"That's okay; I'll just go and see him."
Gene was taking inventory and writing a list of things he would need when Charlie walked in.
"Hi, Grandpa."
"Charlie, what's up?"
"I need your help."
"Anything, sweetheart."
"I know that you're not fond of Bass, and I know a lot of that is because of mom. But Bass has been good to me. He's saved my life more than once. He's trying to make amends. He's changed, and he's my friend."
"Alright… so, where's this going?"
"I don't know everything that happened in Mexico, but things didn't go especially well for Bass. At one point, he was taken captive by a drug cartel, and he was whipped. His back is a mess, and I'm afraid that he will get infected. The lashings were never cared for. Mom cleaned them once the first night. Some already are looking angry, and at least two of them need some stitches. He won't come to you; he said that he can't take the hate anymore."
"Really, Charlie, what do you expect after what he's done."
"Grandpa, he's being blamed for everything that's happened; Miles was right there with him. He's been forgiven. Bass didn't kill Danny. We were at war, fighting against the militia. I begged him to stay away from the fighting, but Danny chose to fight, and he went down like a soldier. Bass didn't want my dad killed. Neville did that. Grandpa, please don't let Mom's hate influence you. He's sorry for everything, and it eats at him. He's had a hard life too."
"He made his bed."
"Yeah, he did, with Miles."
"Sounds like you care…a lot. Maybe a little too much." Gene says with concern.
"We got close when we were on our way to Willoughby. We talked, and I saw a different side. He's had a really hard life. I realized that things are not always black and white; there's a lot of gray. He took care of me even after I was hateful to him. He was gentle and kind. Grandpa, he rescued me from being gang-raped. I was drugged, and he helped me through it. Deep down, he's a good man.
Now, I want to return the favor. I want to help him. Will you help me?"
"Alright, Charlie, but you've got me concerned. Has something happened? He's no good for you. Nothing but trouble, and he's old enough to be your father."
"Grandpa, we spent weeks traveling together; he's a friend." (That I want to be more…). "He's saved me more than once."
Gene is still not looking convinced, but he'll help for Charlie. "Okay, I'll get some things together. Find me a pack."
Five minutes later, Charlie returned with a spare pack that she had with her things. Gene filled it with dressings and clean cloth wraps. He gave Charlie some suture material and a salve made with honey and aloe. He added a jar of moonshine.
"Okay, Charlie, make sure the wounds are good and clean. It's gonna hurt but disinfect them with the moonshine. Then do your stitches. This solution is called Dakin's," he showed her two bottles. "We used it to fight infection even before the blackout. When the wounds are all clean and you're done with the stitches, wet the dressings with the Dakin's, lay them over the lashings, and then secure them with a wrap. They'll need to be changed every day until they're closed. Once they begin to close, use the salve."
"Thank you, Grandpa," Charlie says, giving Gene a hug.
"You're welcome, Pumpkin. I'm doing this for you…not him. And Charlie, be careful."
Charlie shook her head as she picked up the pack and headed back to the river. All the while under Rachel's watchful gaze. Wondering what she's up to.
Bass had gotten into dry pants and sat on the riverbank waiting for Charlie to return. Knees bent and resting forward on his elbows, he was thinking about all that had happened. He was angry with Miles; (if only he had told him about Connor, things could have been better. Maybe I wouldn't have gone so crazy if I had had a family, Connor, to look after. And Emma…why…why hadn't she told him she was pregnant. It was well before the blackout; I wasn't crazy then; I was a marine!) Then, taking his bedroll, he stretched out on his stomach and fell asleep.
Charlie came out of the tree line and spotted him lying on the shore. Bass, usually a light sleeper, didn't hear her approach.
"Bass…" Charlie said softly.
"Charlotte, you're back," he groaned.
"Of course, I'm back. I've got some things from Grandpa for your back. Do you have a clean shirt for after? I'll rinse out this one."
"Charlie, you don't need to do that."
"Shut it. Here, drink this," handing Bass the flask that she snatched from Miles while she was getting her pack. Bass chuckles, "Miles'? He's gonna be pissed." Then he takes several long pulls from the flask.
"Tell me what happened."
Bass sighed and gave her Cliff's Notes version of events.
"Bass, I'm so sorry."
"Not what I was hoping for. Given how Connor was left in Mexico as a little kid and that he didn't know me from Adam… I guess it was to be expected."
"Yeah, but this…" she gestures to his back, "is going a bit too far…."
"Nunez was pissed that I was trying to take away his son. Sorry to say that I would have reacted the same way."
"Drink more." Bass finished the flask with a burp.
Charlie went to the river to scrub out his dirty shirt, giving the alcohol time to hit. Returning to Bass, she spread his shirt over a rock to dry.
"Whoa, you got me plastered," he says with a giggle and slurring his words causing Charlie to chuckle.
"Good, that was the idea. Ready to get started? Lay down on your stomach. Grandpa told me what I needed to do, and we'll need to change the dressings every day until the wounds are closed. First, I have to disinfect them. Then I do the stitches." Charlie laid out her supplies.
"Bass, I'm going to straddle your hips to give me better access."
"Not a hardship," he mumbled as the whiskey had fully kicked in.
Charlie used the moonshine that Gene had given her to disinfect each of the lashings like he instructed. Bass hissed as the alcohol hit the open wounds. Then went quiet as he passed out. Then she started in on the sutures. It turned out that three of the lashings needed several stitches. Other than an occasional grunt, Bass was quiet. Ten minutes later, she was done.
"I have these wet dressings that I'm going to lay across your back," she said, placing the Dakin's-soaked dressings over his wounds.
"Okay, lift up so I can get this wrapped around you." There was no response. Tapping his cheek lightly… "Bass?" There was a slight snore. (Guess he's really out. Have to wait to do the wrap.)
Charlie cleaned up the supplies and organized them back in the pack. She then settled in to keep watch over him while he was passed out.
Charlie was resting against a large rock when Rachel came charging down the riverbank.
"I've been looking for you. I was worried. What are you doing?" Then she spies Bass. "What's this?"
"What does it look like? I took care of the wounds on his back. Someone had to."
"Fine, now come back to camp."
"What? No. I'm not leaving him, Mom. He can't defend himself. When he wakes, I have to finish the dressings."
"He's been passed out before; he'll be fine. Serves him right for getting blackout drunk. It's not the first time. Charlie, come back to camp now."
"No, Mom. Just leave and go back to camp. I'll be along when he wakes."
"That could be hours! What has he done to you? Have you forgotten your father or Danny? How about what he did to me?"
"He's done nothing but watch my back, and now I'm watching his."
"That's enough, Charlie, let's go."
"Just go back to camp, Mom. I am not leaving him here."
Rachel is furious. She absolutely hates seeing Charlie with Monroe. Hates how she cares about him. Glaring at Charlie, she stomps back to camp in search of Miles.
Charlie knew it wasn't over. Her mother would never let it go. A short while later, Miles comes charging like a raging bull up the riverbank towards her.
"Charlie, your mother is really upset. Enough of this, let's go."
"Miles, I told her, and I'm telling you, I am not leaving him. He's passed out, can't defend himself, and can't be left alone like this. How can you be so heartless! He's your brother!"
Miles looks over at a passed-out Bass. He goes over to him and starts slapping his face. "Hey! Dickhead! Come on, let's go."
Bass manages to peel one eye open. "Miles," he slurs, "wha...th…fuck…."
"You got to get up, can't stay here."
"Miles! Really? I've got to finish wrapping his dressings before he can go anywhere," Charlie huffs.
"Well…wrap him up then. Bass! Lift up your chest!"
Bass managed a few inches, then Miles pulled him up. "Hurry up, Charlie, this Moron is heavy."
Charlie wrapped him up and secured the wrap.
"Grab his pack, hand it to me after I get him up. Can you manage?" Miles ordered gruffly.
"I'll be fine."
Getting Bass' arm over his shoulder and then grabbing onto his belt, Miles hauled him up onto his feet. He walked/ dragged Bass back to camp, depositing him in the barn on top of the bedroll that Charlie spread. "There, he'll be fine."
Charlie was furious and had had enough of the abuse that was being heaped upon Bass. "Really, Miles? He's done everything that you have asked of him, and he is still treated like garbage. It's a wonder that he has even stayed!" Charlie stormed out of the barn and went to the cellar to gather her things.
"Charlie, what are you doing?" Rachel asks.
"Can't stay here."
"And where do you think you're going?"
"The barn."
"Absolutely not! MILES!"
"You can't stop me, Mom. I'm not a kid; I make my own decisions."
"Well, stop acting like a child then. Charlie, do you think that I'm stupid and blind? I see how he looks at you, how you look at him. I'm already sorry that I saved him. You don't owe him anything, and I don't like you being alone with him. You don't know him like I do. He's a drunk and a womanizer, and he's just using you. Just what is going on with you?"
"I think that right now I know him better than you do, Mom. He's trying to make amends, to be a better person."
"Don't believe it, don't believe a word that he says. He's a sociopath. He'll say anything to get what he wants. You have Miles and me; you don't need to be with him."
"Sorry, Mom, but you don't get to tell me what to do. I'm not the eight-year-old that you left standing in the street." With that, Charlie grabbed her pack and bedroll and brought them to the barn causing Rachel to see red.
Miles had just walked down the stairs and into the bunker. "I just saw Charlie storming out of here with her stuff. What's going on?"
"Miles, you have to do something!"
"Where did she go?"
"To the barn…to him."
"What would you like me to do? I don't like it. She knows I don't like it, but she's an adult. Don't you see what you just did there? You pushed her to him."
Charlie walked into the barn and placed her bedroll and pack at a respectable distance from Bass. As she walked back out of the barn, she ran into Miles.
"Your mother is having a meltdown. What's going on?"
"Miles, he's done everything you've asked of him, and you still treat him like garbage. I kind of get mom, but you! He's still your brother; you've said so. He's trying, Miles, and you're not making it easy. Makes him wonder why he bothers."
"He doesn't deserve easy."
Charlie glares at him. "I'll be staying here. I like his company better than yours right now. Definitely better than mom's. Oh, one more thing…" she went back into the barn for a moment and returned with Miles' flask. "Here, sorry, but Bass needed it more than you did. Excuse me, I'm hungry."
"We've got some rabbit," Miles sighed.
"I think I'll see if Aaron and Cynthia can share some stew."
Miles stood staring after her wondering what was going on with her and Bass. Nothing good.