i can't apologize enough for all the waiting i've made you people do, i'm so sorry, i promise to finish up my stories as soon as possible so you don't have to bear my laziness anymore! love to all!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – The Color of a Newborn

"Charlie, I'm coming." There was sternness in her voice, the tone that only someone who'd known her for a long time could turn down.

"You're not. You'd do better here looking after Frank. Trust me Annie, we'll be back in a minute. Let's go." Charlie turned to a young boy who was out of breath standing next to him, blowing great swelling pants into his hat, trying to retain composure in front of the lady.

Charlie took the boy by the shoulder and flipped him around, following quick-heeled behind him.

Pounding down the stairs, Charlie snatched his coat on the way out and shouldered it on as they ran towards the stamping, soaking horse haphazardly tied to the railing of the deck. With a quick step, Charlie was up in the saddle and a sweep of his hand brought up the boy behind him when he'd untangled the reigns. With a swift kick, he twisted the horse and they took off down the lane, spraying up mud.

By the time they reached town there was a throng of people gathered in two large, wet clumps. Fair ladies craned their long fragrant necks from the boardwalks while less than decadent men ruffled boots around in the mud, soaking in the rain.

Charlie brought the horse to a hasty stop, its hooves sliding a bit in the muck as Charlie dismounted asking, "what happened?" the boy explained, yelling over the rain with his hat brim pulled down to keep it out of his large ears.

"Mr. James'd been drinking when your brother started a fight with him. They went out here and had a shootout, but the gun Mr. James'd had was messed up and it exploded in his face."

Charlie peeled through the people, keeping his ear cocked to hear the story from the following boy. As the people parted, Charlie saw Robert twisting in the mud, curled about a twist of wet limbs. Charlie stooped and came down on his knees next to his brother. "Robert?"

Robert's eyes flashed open, "Charlie?"

"Where are you hit?" Charlie followed his brother's clutching hands to his thigh and pressed his hands over them, making his brother grunt. "We're going to get you to Doc Fry, hang on." Charlie raised his head against the rain and searched the chalky faces to find the boy's. When he locked eyes, he spoke solely to him, "go find a blanket." The boy nodded, turned, and dove into the crowd. The boy returned soon after, hauling a large woven blanket across his arms. Charlie grabbed it and brought it down around his brother, lifting his head and shoulders from the mud with a large schluck sound and the higher he rose, the more he wrapped the blanket about him until he was standing and bulky. "Move!" Charlie commanded the crowd and in awe they parted, either nodding or shaking their heads in contempt as the two men passed. On the outside of the crowd, Charlie found the boy again and leaned over to speak to him softly, "take him to Black Hawk Inn, ask for Doctor Fly, he's in Room Two." The boy nodded and began to take Robert's burden when the man shrugged back, nearly falling. "Where are you going?" he asked almost vehemently.

"I'll be back…" Charlie let his voice trail as he turned, inept on the other group of people gathered about the front of the bar's boardwalk. The stranded group from Robert's audience now found there way over to the boardwalk as well, becoming a swelling, mumbling mass of wet leather.

Charlie shouldered his way through, the people becoming more hunched the closed he got to the front, until finally he met a row of people on their hands and knees, peering under the boardwalk. Kicking a large man in the butt, the man rose with a smoky beard and a keen stare. "he's under there no doubt, crowd moved him there." The man moved aside as Charlie went down on his hands and knees, peering into the darkness. "Jesse?"

A boot flashed out of the darkness, narrowly missing Charlie's nose and chaotically retreating. "Don't touch me! Get away from me!" The foot recoiled into the darkness, the soft shine of cloth barely seen before disappearing.

Suddenly, there was massive thumping overhead and Jesse made a sound like an agonized scream before yelling his warnings again. Charlie snapped up, flinging water and seeing a couple of little boys jumping up and down on the creaking boards.

"Hey!" he yelled, the little boys gasping in delight as they ran away. Charlie ducked back under and tested putting his shoulders under the walk, at full target should Jesse strike out again. "Jesse, it's me Charlie."

"I can't see Charlie…I can't see."

"Come out of there and I'll help you."

"Don't touch me…"

"I'm not going to touch you. Your brother Jesse…"

This perked Jesse's attention and Charlie could see another soft flash of clothing in the darkness when he moved. "What about him?"

"He's alive Jesse, he's going to be alright."

"Are you lying?" There was a sadness in his voice, sounding wet, broken, and drunk.

"No Jesse, I swear on the Bible…"

"Don't touch me and I'll get out…" came his soft voice.

"Alright." Charlie began to retreat from the blackness, backing out ass-end into the consuming people. As his head came out, he ordered them back. They took maybe one or two steps back but then came forward again, intent on seeing the criminal come out.

After a while, Jesse emerged, his hands scraping through the mud, one clutched up about his face. And as it hit the light, some privy women screamed.

His flesh was black, the front of his hair frizzed and blood dripping down his neck and staining his collar. As his upper body emerged, Charlie swooped in and grabbed Jesse up, cradling his head into his chest as he brought him to his feet. With one arm wrapped about Jesse's wet, shaking frame and the other clutching Jesse's face against his chest, Charlie made their way through the thrumming crowd, standing slack-jawed and barely doing more than turning on heel as they passed.

The crowd seemed to press back at the thought of touching the two men, making the break into the openness seem odd and unnatural.

"I can't see…" Jesse mumbled into Charlie's shirt.

"I know," Charlie whispered with his head dipped, "does it hurt?"

"No…" Jesse's legs slid and slipped and hung heavy from the bottom of his torso.

"We're gonna get you home and take care of you, alright? Back with your brother."

"Frank." It felt secure to say his name, knowing he wasn't dead.

"Thanks Charlie…" Jesse's words were barely a mumble, they were a convulsion of his tongue more than anything.

"Sure Jesse," Charlie comforted, not knowing what he said, "sure."