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This chapter is also rated PG for swearing.

Thank you, Marilyn!

Chapter 4

"Over there!"

Maddux pulled Lyons' head down and turned it in the direction he was pointing. "Right over there!" Lyons shook his head and Maddux thumped him on one large bicep with his fist. "Right. There."

"That's a rock," Lyons grumbled, starting to turn away.

Maddux yanked him back and hissed in his face, "A rock that pukes?"

Lyons squinted past Maddux at the 'rock' that was indeed, attempting to throw its guts up. A soft moan followed, provoking Maddux's triumphant, "I told you so!"

The two left the bushes and quietly moved forward. LeBeau was down on his hands and knees, head hanging, breath coming in pants and moans. He looked up when they got closer. Tears ran down his cheeks, mixing with mud and the detritus of his latest bout of retching. Maddux grimaced as he took in the Frenchman's appearance. Mincing past the puddle of vomit, he grabbed LeBeau by the back of his coat and hauled him to his feet. Lyons watched from severalyards away, mustachioed upper lip curled in distaste.

Maddux half carried, half-led LeBeau toward Lyons, who sidled away. "Get back here, ya big goof," Maddux snapped.

Lyons emphatically shook his head. "I ain't getting near him. He's sick."

"So's half the damned camp!" Maddux retorted, then stopped in alarm when LeBeau gasped and clutched at his stomach. "Hey, Frenchie!" Maddux peered down at LeBeau's slack face. "Don't you puke on me, got it?" LeBeau gave him a pitiful look, then quietly passed out. Maddux huffed in exasperation. "Great." He eased LeBeau's limp body to the ground, then stood straight and glared into Lyons' eyes.

"You get to take him back to camp."

Lyons' eyes went wide, then narrowed. His broad shoulders flexed. "Says who?"

Maddux took a step closer, until they were almost breathing the same air. "Says me," he snarled. "I found him, so you get to take him back to camp."

"He's covered in puke!" Lyons looked down at LeBeau and his lip curled again.

LeBeau mumbled something. Maddux dropped to a knee and leaned toward him.

"Back with us, huh? How 'bout you tell us what happened to Hogan and Newkirk before you take another trip to la-la land."

LeBeau blankly peered up at him, then panic distorted his expression. "Ils ont appartenu à la rivière!"

"What?" Maddux shook him by the shoulder. LeBeau groaned, head lolling. "What—"

"He said they fell into the river," Lyons muttered, glancing in the direction the river lay.

Maddux stared up at him, mouth hanging open in surprise. "You talk French? Why'd you never say so, ya big goof!"

Irritation flashed in Lyons' eyes. "Because –"

"Louder, you two. I don't think they heard you over in Hammelburg."

Maddux shot to his feet and Lyons spun toward the bushes at his back. Tivoli, Benson, Broughton, Olsen and Jones quietly slipped into the open. Tivoli came to a stop and braced his hands on his trim hips.

"You trying to get us all killed?"

Maddux and Lyons shared a slightly guilty look, then simultaneously pointed down at LeBeau. The Frenchman had passed out again and was breathing in raspy pants. Benson hurried to LeBeau's side, worried by the smaller man's condition.

"We found him!" Lyons declared, flashing a smile.

"I found him!" Maddux snapped. "He told us Hogan and Newkirk fell into the river."

Tivoli frowned. "That explains why I couldn't find them." He flicked a glance at Olsen. "You two see any sign of them?"

Olsen shook his head. "Nothing."

A thoughtful look crossed Broughton's face. "Jonesie and me found a place upstream where the riverbank had caved in. Could be how they ended up taking a swim."

Tivoli's head came up and he glanced around. "So LeBeau, here, came downstream trying to find them?" He looked down at LeBeau, then around again. "But you found him here, so must be he'd figured he couldn't help them and –"

"No way!" Olsen's voice was rough with anger. "Louis wouldn't leave them to die!"

"I was going to say," Tivoli fired back. "that he was heading back to get help." He turned his gaze to Benson, dismissing Olsen's attempt at offering an apology. "What's the matter with him?"

"He's sick," Maddux and Lyons proclaimed, speaking over Benson's declaration of, "He's burning up." Tivoli gave Maddux and Lyons a look that would have peeled paint, then made eye contact again with Benson.

"Get him back to camp. We'll go back to the river and keep looking for the other two."

Maintaining eye contact with the big Italian, Benson slowly stood. "Have one of the others take him. I'm staying with you."

"That goes for me, too." Olsen drew himself up, ready for a fight despite his recent illness.

A gleam appeared in Tivoli's eyes and his lips twisted in a sneer. "What's the matter? Don't trust me to bring back Fearless Leader?"

Olsen and Benson said nothing and after a tension-filled silence, Tivoli's hard gaze slid to Lyons.

"Take him back to camp."

Maddux grinned, while Lyons could only stare, frustrated, at Tivoli. With a shake of his head, he bent down, gingerly – and with a great air of disgust – picked up LeBeau. The other men watched him walk away, then turned and looked at Tivoli. He rolled his eyes and flung his arms out to the sides.

"Well? You want I should do a Schultz or something?" He obligingly made shooing motions."Let's go!"

HH HH HH HH HH

Hogan stumbled and went down on one knee. The fire in his back and shoulder was getting worse, while the rest of his body was getting colder. It was a strange contrast.

I hope Newkirk's in better shape.

Bracing himself with his good hand, he pushed off the ground – and felt an instant of surprise as his muscles gave out. He pitched forward, heading for a face-first landing in the mud. Twisting at the last moment, he hit the ground on his good side, hard enough to drive the air from his lungs. Several moments passed before he was able to draw a full breath. Worn out, worried and cold, he lay, waiting for the strength to try again. Without realizing it, his eyes closed and he relaxed.

Somewhere close, an owl softly hooted and from even farther away, received an answer.

Wonder if it's the same one that I heard at the farm. What time . . . gotta get some more straw for this mattress. LeBeau's too sick to go . . .

Hogan sighed and shifted, unaware of how badly disjointed his thoughts had become.

The owl sent off another call, then left its branch. Its soft wing beats faded and more time passed in relative silence. Then faintly, as if in a dream, Hogan heard Newkirk. Stuttering.

I didn't know Newkirk stuttered.

Hogan's eyes flew open.

Get up.

Slowly, he drew his hand toward his body and placed his palm against the ground. His muscles flexed, his head lifted . . . then between one breath and the next, he lost consciousness and fell back to the ground.

HH HH HH HH HH

"Whuh- whuh-what a bluh-bluh-bloody ruh-ruh-rotten nuh-nuh-night."

Shaking as if palsied, Newkirk shuffled over to a half-buried log and sat. The log's damp, rotten bark started sliding off, threatening to take him with it. With a muttered curse, he caught his balance, planted his feet firmly back on the ground. He stared out at the river through narrowed, blurry eyes, hating the very sight of it.

"If . . . if I nuh-nuh-never s-s-s-s-see th-th-thuh-this bluh-bleeding ah-ah-awful ruh-r-r-rruh-river again it'll buh-buh-be t-t-ttuh-t-too—OW!"

He doubled over, clamped one hand onto the calf suddenly seized with cramp. Massaging the rock-hard muscle did no good, so Newkirk stood and tried walking it out. He had taken only a few stumbling steps when the other calf cramped. His legs buckled, throwing him to the ground. Unable to catch himself, he fell hard, his head striking a rock with a dull thud.

To be continued . . .