Chapter 7

Present

"What do you mean, we can't move in yet?" Buck scowled at Ezra. "The kid said Vin was hurt bad. Every minute we wait could put him closer to..." He glared through the trees at the farm a half-mile down the road and thought about the EMTs waiting a few miles back. "I ain't about to let Vin bleed out while we stand here with our heads up our asses!"

"And I share your deep concern for both our compatriots, I assure you. If you'd just calm yourself and listen for a moment I'll endeavor to explain why I believe we should proceed with caution."

"Let him speak, Buck," Josiah said.

Buck growled wordlessly, but waved Ezra onward. "Fine. But if ya cut a few of those ten-dollar words things might move along faster."

"It's quite simple, really," Ezra said, brushing an invisible piece of lint off his black shirt. "My reconnaissance uncovered a suspicious amount of activity at the Sinclair farmstead. There seems to be some sort of business transaction taking place, and from the appearance of the participants I doubt very much that it involves hay or wheat."

"He's right." Nathan slipped from the cover of some trees, his expression grim. "I don't know what's goin' on, but there's a truck parked out back of the barn with two fellas that look like hired muscle sittin' in it."

"The two gentlemen inside the barn, on the other hand, arrived in a Porsche." Ezra sniffed. "A Cayenne Turbo. Deplorable waste of money, if you ask me."

"Sure does sound like a deal going down," J.D. agreed. "But for what?"

"He saw the g-guns and...and my dad got angry..."

Buck sucked in a sharp breath. "Guns."

Four pairs of eyes bore into him.

Josiah raised an eyebrow. "Something you neglected to share, brother?"

"The kid--Jonah... He was pulling a J.D. at the time, talking a mile a minute, so I could hardly keep up, but... He said somethin' about Vin seeing guns. And that his dad got real angry because of it."

"That's it," Nathan said.

Ezra nodded. "I concur."

"'He was pulling a J.D.'? What the hell's that supposed to mean?" J.D. spluttered.

"Looks like Chris and Vin landed themselves in a world of trouble." Josiah said. "The question is, how do we get them out?"

"I can help."

Buck spun, reflexively reaching for his weapon. A lanky, dark-haired boy wearing ripped jeans emerged from a thicket of trees. His gaze darted to the men at Buck's back, then fixed on Buck's face.

"I'm Jonah."

His heart still hammering, Buck moved his hand from his gun. "Damn it, kid! Don't you know better than to sneak up on a group of armed men?"

Cringing, Jonah ducked his head. "S-sorry."

"Geez, Buck, jump all over him, why don't you?" J.D. shouldered past him. "I'm J.D. Don't let this guy scare you. We're all really glad you called us about Chris and Vin."

"It was indeed a bold move worthy of our gratitude," Ezra said, touching his fingers to the brim of a nonexistent hat.

"Where exactly was Vin shot?" Nathan moved closer. "Do you know the caliber of the gun? And has Chris been able to stop the bleeding?"

"Easy, Nate," Josiah murmured. "Give him a chance."

"This here is Nathan, our medic," Buck said, placing a restraining hand on the man's shoulder. "The big guy's Josiah, and Mr. Fancy Pants over there is Ezra." He walked to Jonah. "And as you've probably figured by now, I'm Buck, the jackass you spoke to on the phone. It's good to meet you, son."

Jonah studied Buck, biting his lip. "You p-promised my dad wouldn't g-get hurt."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Buck grimaced. "I said I'd do my best, and I will." He narrowed his eyes. "If I remember correctly, I also told you to make yourself scarce until I had things under control."

"I want to help."

Buck laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You already have, Jonah. But now it's time for you to stay out of the way and let us do our jobs. Believe me, we know what we're doing."

Jonah shrugged free of his grip. "You were just s-saying you didn't know how to g-get your friends out. I heard you."

Buck opened his mouth and then snapped it shut, sending the others a silent plea for help. To his surprise, Ezra stepped forward.

"Don't underestimate the boy, Mr. Wilmington. I suspect he may possess knowledge that could be extremely crucial to our success or failure. For instance, he could perhaps enlighten us as to what exactly is going on inside that barn." He waved his hand over his shoulder, giving Jonah a slight nod of encouragement.

Jonah's gaze darted to the barn, and he winced. "He
m-made me p-p-promise never to t-tell."

"We know he's your daddy, son," Josiah rumbled, his voice low and soothing. "But I also think you realize that what he's doing is wrong."

"And the more we know goin' in, the better chance we have of makin' sure nobody else gets hurt," Nathan added.

"You said Vin saw some guns," Buck said. "Is that what this is all about?"

His chin tucked to his chest, Jonah nodded.

Buck glanced at the others, carefully choosing his next words. "Is your daddy buying, or selling?"

A long pause. "Selling," Jonah finally whispered. He turned wide, dark eyes on each of them. "He swore it's the last time! He...he's... Things have b-been real hard since my mom d-died. My dad...he drinks sometimes and the f-f-farm wasn't doing so well. The b-bank is gonna take it away. We'll lose everything. He n-n-needed the money for a n-new st-start for us."

Buck sighed and rubbed a hand along his jaw. He was beginning to see how Vin had landed himself--and Chris--in such a mess. Their tough-as-nails sharpshooter had a soft spot as big as Texas for troubled kids.

"It's all right, son. We're gonna handle this. J.D.'ll show you where you can wait in the van and--"

Jonah shook his head. "No! If you all bust in there carrying guns my dad's gonna get hurt. I can help. I can get them to come out. Then you can grab 'em."

"We can't place you in the line of fire. You need to wait where it's safe."

Jonah skittered away from Buck's outstretched hand. "No. I agreed to call you, but I didn't agree to let you get my dad killed!"

Buck's temper flared. "Now listen here, pard. You ain't the one runnin' this show, so you-- Hey! Jonah! Get back here!"

But Jonah was off and running, easily evading J.D.'s and Josiah's attempts to grab him. They had to turn back or risk being seen.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Buck paced back and forth, finally stopping to draw a calming breath. "Okay. Best we can hope for now is some damage control."

"We'd better decide quickly upon a course of action," Ezra said, "since it appears our young friend is determined to render aid--whether or not we want it."

"Nate and I will take care of the boys in the truck." Josiah clapped Nathan on the back, grinning when his friend glared in return.

"Fine. Ezra, J.D., you're with me. We'll get into position and hope the boy can deliver what he claims." Muttering under his breath, Buck followed the others as they collected their gear. "Damn fool kid is gonna get us all killed."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Tell me...yer best day."

The breathy rasp startled Chris, pulling him from his dark brooding. Vin had been silent for so long, he'd feared the man had lapsed into a coma. He tilted his head to get a good look at Vin's face. "What?"

Vin blinked up at him. "What was...best day...ya ever had?"

Irrationally, anger sparked inside him. Damn fool was lying on the floor of a cellar, sounding like every breath could be his last, and he wanted stories?

"Vin..."

"Need ya...to anchor me, Cowboy. Feels like...'m driftin' away."

The soft admission snuffed out Chris's anger, and he was horrified when his vision blurred with tears. That Vin, a man who worked so hard to be self-sufficient, would confess his fear, was both humbling and agonizing.

"Let me think on it a minute." He tipped his head back and blinked hard, already knowing his answer. "I guess that would have to be the day Adam was born."

Vin stiffened. "Chris, you don't have to--"

"It's okay." And he was amazed to realize it really was. He could do this, for Vin, and down deep maybe a part of him was grateful for the excuse. "If a man can't remember the best day of his life, what good is it?"

Vin didn't respond, but a little of the tension seeped out of his muscles.

"First thing you've got to understand about Sarah--she was as stubborn and pigheaded as...well... you." He grinned when Vin mustered a weak, one-fingered salute. "From the moment we found out she was pregnant, she fought all my attempts to get her to take it easy."

"Sounds like...real spitfire."

Chris chuffed, shaking his head. "You have no idea. About three weeks before her due date, I came home to find her on the floor, putting together the crib. I guess you can imagine my reaction."

"Bet you'd've made...rattlesnake look cuddly."

"You've got a way with words, pard. I lit into her something fierce and she responded with both barrels. We were yammering at the top of our lungs when all of a sudden Sarah cut off mid-sentence and stared at me with this funny expression on her face." He chuffed. "Then I saw the puddle on the floor. Her water broke."

"Guess that...shut ya up."

"It turned me into every cliché of an expectant father. Sarah very calmly packed a bag for the hospital while I proceeded to run around like a chicken with its head cut off. She finally took away my keys and threatened to drive herself if I didn't get a grip."

Vin's chuckle turned into a gasp. His body went rigid and he dug his fingers into Chris's arm where it lay across his chest.

"Sorry. Oh God, Vin, I'm sorry." Chris rubbed Vin's arm, ran his fingers through Vin's hair, searching for something, anything, to ease the pain. Slowly his friend relaxed, except for the occasional tremor.

"'M okay." Vin's voice was little more than a wheeze. "Keep...keep talkin'."

"Sarah..." Chris cleared his throat when his voice wavered. "Sarah was one of the lucky ones. By the time we got to the hospital she was well into labor. Adam was born about three hours later."

Chris tipped his head back, absently stroking the hair from Vin's sweaty face. "I'll never forgot holding him in my arms that first time. He was so tiny, and so perfect, and I... I just thought... This is the best thing I've ever done in my whole mediocre life. I made a vow, right then, that I'd be there for him. That I'd..." Chris swallowed and closed his eyes against a hot rush of tears. "...I'd never let him down."

Vin squeezed his arm--this time in reassurance. "You didn't, Cowboy."

"Didn't I? The time he needed me the most, I wasn't there."

"Yer wrong."

"They died alone, Vin! Alone and terrified, while I sat in my office sipping coffee and working on some damn meaningless report. So don't presume to tell me I'm wrong. You don't know what the hell you're talking about."

Vin's fingers threaded through Chris's in a crushing grip. "You weren't in that car. But you were here." He placed their joined hands over his heart. "They knew, Chris."

Chris choked out something between a laugh and a sob. "How can you possibly be certain of that?"

"'Cause I... I still feel her."

Chris angled his body so he could see Vin's face, noting the slight flush on his pale cheeks. "Your mother?"

His friend nodded. "Know it sounds...crazy. But whenever things...was at their worst...I always knew...she was there. Got me through...times I didn't think...could take another step." He blinked hazy eyes and his voice sounded almost dreamy. "She's real close...now."

Chris's stomach did a slow roll. "Yeah? Well you tell her to back off, pard. I'm not ready to hand you over just yet. You're a pain in the ass, but I've gotten used to having you around."

"Trying." Another blink and Vin's eyes stayed shut. "So tired."

"I know you are but-- Vin? Vin?" Chris shook his friend gently, but Vin was out cold again.

Chris hugged the limp body close, floundering against a wave of pure helplessness and despair. Swiping his eyes with his sleeve, he glared upward.

"You can't have him--you hear me? We--I--need him right here. You want to be his guardian angel? Then send us some help."

The words had hardly left his lips when Chris heard a distinctive pop, followed by several more in quick succession. He jerked upright, heart pounding as he strained to listen. Screeching tires, men shouting, and more gunfire.

Silence.

Chris eased Vin to the ground and walked as close to the stairs as the chain allowed. Cupping his hands around his mouth, he yelled, "Help! Can anyone hear me? We're trapped down here! Help!"

He shouted until his voice cracked and became a wispy rasp. Grabbing a bottle of water, he took a long drink, hoping it would soothe his abused throat.

"Chris? Chris, you down there?"

The water bottled slipped from Chris's fingers, hitting the floor with a thud. "Buck?" His lips formed the word but no sound came out. "Buck!"

"Chris!" Buck's voice radiated relief. "It's me, old son. Hold on; the kid's getting the key."

Kid? Jonah, Chris realized, a little shocked by the confirmation that the boy had come through. "Buck we need an ambulance! Vin was shot. You've got to hurry."

"Nathan's right here, practically foamin' at the mouth, and EMTs are standing by. Hang in there, pard."

Chris's knees were weak and his legs trembled with delayed reaction. He staggered over to Vin, dropping onto the floor. "Hear that, Cowboy? Help's on the--"

He trailed off, staring. Vin's lips no longer had a bluish cast--they were blue. Chris placed a hand over his friend's still chest, then his parted lips. Nothing, not a whisper of air.

"NO! Damn it, Vin, don't do this to me!"

With shaking hands, Chris tipped Vin's head back, checked his airway, and began CPR. A corner of his brain heard the trap door bang open and the thunder of descending footsteps, but he ignored it.

One, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe.

"Chris? Oh, God, no." Buck clasped his shoulder, but he shook it off, leaning over to deliver another puff of air past Vin's slack lips.

One, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe.

"Chris. Chris, paramedics are here. Let 'em in, now." Nathan, his tone as smooth as honey, his large, dark hands moving Chris gently aside.

Chris didn't see the healer exchange a pointed glance with Buck as his friend fumbled the chain off his ankle. He couldn't take his eyes off Vin as the EMTs called out vital signs, started an I.V., and inserted a tube down his friend's throat.

"Sucking chest wound, right quadrant. B.P.'s 40 over 30 palp; pulse 130 and thready."

"Chris." Buck again. "Let's get out of their way, all right?"

Chris resisted briefly, then allowed himself to be guided to the steps. He submitted to Nathan's cursory exam of the knot on his head, letting the man's fussing flow past him without bothering to decipher the words.

The EMTs had Vin on a gurney now, his face a lifeless mask. "We're taking him to Denver General," one tossed over his shoulder as they clattered toward the stairs.

"Got room for me?" Nathan asked. When they nodded, he turned to Buck. "Get Chris to the E.R. The head wound's superficial but he should have a CT scan just to be safe." He waited for a nod from Buck, then raced after the paramedics.

Buck slipped an arm around Chris's shoulders. "He's in good hands now, pard. You done your best."

Chris stared at the dark puddle on the dirt floor and wondered if his best would be enough.

Continued in Chapter 8