Chapter 9

He hurt.

At first the pain was all-encompassing, blotting out everything else. Gradually, other sensations crept in. A steady beeping and hissing. The sharp odor of antiseptic. Softness beneath his cheek. Voices.

"Would you stop playing with that? Camilla sees and she'll kick your ass out of here."

"I'm bored."

"Like that's a news flash. Why don't you go bother the nurses?"

"'Cause Attila Camilla rides herd on me every time I stick my nose--or any other body part--near one of them sweet young things."

"You're just bent out of shape because the woman's immune to that so-called animal magnetism."

"So called? That's harsh, pard. We both know--"

"Wait a minute. Did he just move?" Footsteps, then warm fingers brushed his cheek.

"Nah, he's still out."

Except he had moved, hadn't he? His body felt as if it were immersed in cement, and he couldn't see a thing in the darkness.

"Shouldn't he be opening them baby blues by now? What exactly did the doc tell you?"

No wonder it was so damn dark--his eyes were shut. He struggled to lift lids that felt dipped in lead.

"Said he was weaning him off the sedative and that he'd be in to pull the tube soon as Vin--" Chris's voice--yeah, it was Chris--got all soft and he was wearing a rare, full-out Larabee grin. "Welcome back."

Buck's head popped into view. "Well hey there, Junior. 'Bout time you decided to join the party. You've had us 'bout ready to worry the warts off a toad."

Vin blinked. Everything seemed to be out of focus and moving too fast. Words slid by before he could catch their meaning, but the smiles eased his panic. Chris vanished, then reappeared, and he wondered idly at his friend's shadowed eyes and disheveled clothing.

He let his gaze drift, taking in white walls, the patch of golden sunlight, a meandering crack in the ceiling. Chris and Buck continued to talk, their voices a soothing drone.

Vin blinked again, only this time his eyes wouldn't open all the way. Sounds and colors ran together, and he was drifting, sinking beneath the surface of an ebony lake.

Fingers squeezed his hand and tapped his cheek. Startled, he popped his eyes open and found Chris's face hovering just inches from his own. "Stay with me, Cowboy. The doctor will be here any minute and you can get rid of that tube."

Tube? Vin opened his mouth to ask Chris what he meant, but the question caught in his throat. He coughed, then gagged, now fully awake. Something hard was in his mouth and down his throat, choking him. Grasping frantically, desperate to pull it out, his fingertips grazed smooth plastic just before Chris and Buck seized his arms.

"Vin! Vin, calm down! That tube is to help you breathe. Easy, pard. Stop fighting me."

Chris might as well have been speaking another language. Vin saw his lips moving, but the words were drowned out by a shrill beeping and the hammering of his own heart. He thrashed and kicked, barely registering the pain in his frenzy to free himself.

"Vin! Ow! Damn it!"

A man in a white coat dodged Vin's fist and pinned his arm to the mattress. Grabbing Vin's chin, he ordered, "Take a deep breath and blow it out."

Vin gasped, choked, and then something was slithering up his throat and out his mouth. He coughed and retched until he saw stars, tears trickling down his face as he instinctively tried to curl into a ball. Voices faded in and out as gentle hands freed his arms, shifting him to a more comfortable position and gliding a cool cloth over his stinging eyes and flushed cheeks.

"...thought you said...out of it...not getting better..."

"...disoriented...fever and drugs...should improve..."

"...hurting...give him something..."

"...morphine...should help..."

Despite the oxygen flowing from the tube under his nose, Vin continued to pant, his chest tight with agony. He watched through slitted eyes as a nurse injected something into his I.V. Within seconds, warmth seeped into his body, blunting the pain's sharp edges.

Fingers ruffled through his hair and he looked into Chris's eyes. Larabee smiled, then winced, running his tongue over a split lip. Huh, Vin thought. How'd he get that?

"Hey. You with us?"

"Throat hurts." He frowned at the harsh rasp of his voice.

"Try this," Chris said, reaching for a styrofoam cup. He scooped something onto a spoon and pressed it to Vin's lips. "The doctor said it would be sore for a day or so, thanks to the tube. He'll be back in a few hours to..."

Ice chips. Vin let the cool wetness trickle down his throat with a sigh. He examined the torn flesh on Chris's lip, observed that Buck had a small hole in the collar of his shirt, and studied the bright square of sunlight spilling onto the floor. He wished he could feel its warmth on his face and smell the crisp fragrance of the pine trees out beyond Chris's ranch. Thinking about how it felt to ride through the sun-dappled woods, he gradually realized Chris had stopped speaking and a little line had formed between his brows.

"You getting any of this?"

"How's Peso?"

For some reason Buck found the question hilarious. "Now we know what's really running through his head during those briefings you're so fond of!"

"Shut up, Buck. Peso's just fine, Vin. Don't worry--Charlie Peterson's been taking care of the horses."

The pain was distant now, muffled by the languid warmth trailing through his body. Watching Chris elbow the still-snickering Buck, Vin frowned. "Ya need a shave, Larabee."

Chris grinned down at him. "You are so stoned. Get some sleep, pard. We got your back."

He meant to say he wasn't tired, didn't need sleep. But somehow the words got lost between his brain and his mouth, and really, it felt good to shut his eyes. Reassured by Buck's boisterous laughter and the pressure of Chris's hand on his shoulder, Vin slipped easily into slumber.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Showered, shaved, and a few more hours of sleep under his belt, Chris bumped into Dr. Callaway coming out of Vin's room.

"Mr. Larabee. Walk with me."

Stealing a glance through the open doorway, Chris saw Buck, J.D., and Ezra lounging around the bed where Vin slept, oblivious.

"He'll be fine. This will only take a moment."

Chris stifled a smile at the doctor's patient tone. "Am I that obvious?"

"Let's just say I've never had a patient come equipped with so many bodyguards." Callaway guided Chris to a seat in the small waiting room.

Chris bristled. "In our line of work--"

"I understand, believe me. In fact, I wish all my patients had such a solid support system. Coffee? Soda?" Callaway motioned to the vending machines.

Shaking his head, Chris propped his elbows on his knees and watched the surgeon through narrowed eyes. He liked Callaway--the man had done a damn fine job of patching up Vin and had been amazingly generous with visiting privileges. Still, the chart tucked under his arm combined with the tight set to his mouth looked ominous. "Thanks, but whatever you've got to say, I'd just as soon you said it."

Callaway raised an eyebrow. "You don't pull any punches, do you?"

"No. And I'd prefer you didn't either."

"Fair enough." Callaway sank into the chair beside him. "Good news first. Your friend is out of the ICU and breathing on his own. His pulse is steady, BP is up, and the latest antibiotic seems to be knocking back the infection."

A little of the tension left Chris's shoulders. "I thought he felt cooler earlier before I left."

"His temp dropped to 101.2--a big improvement. If all goes well, another 24 hours on the antibiotic should see him fever free."

"So what's the bad news?"

"Ever run a marathon, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris stared at the doctor, bemused. "Once, back in college."

"Then you probably understand what it means to hit the wall."

"I'm guessing you've got an analogy in there."

Massaging the back of his neck, Callaway nodded. "I'm trying to tell you that Vin has nothing left to give. The shock of the bullet wound, the trauma of surgery, blood loss, infection, fever... He's poised on the knife's edge, Mr. Larabee. And if he slips, well, I'm not sure we'll get him back a second time."

Chris huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm the one who came in here wearing most of his blood. You don't have to tell me how close it was."

"But I need to be certain you understand how close it is. From talking with Mr. Jackson I get the impression that Vin is a hard guy to keep down."

"You could say that," Chris said dryly.

"Well, you're going to have to. It's imperative that he allows his body to heal completely, and that will take time. He's going to have to follow my instructions to the letter, and the better he starts feeling, the harder that may be. But I'll level with you--he can't afford even to catch a cold right now. His lungs are too weak, and his immune system has been severely compromised by this infection."

"I hear you." Chris tipped his thumb down the hallway toward Vin's room. "You know those bodyguards you mentioned? I can guarantee you that each and every one will dedicate himself to sitting on our sharpshooter, if that's what it takes."

Callaway broke into a rare grin. "Now that's what I was hoping to hear. Though I really doubt it will take all six of you."

Chuckling, Chris stood and offered his hand. "You don't know Vin."

When he got back to Vin's room, Ezra was playing solitaire while Buck and J.D. were squabbled over a crossword puzzle.

"I'm telling you, Buck, that's the wrong answer." J.D. hunched over the folded newspaper, evading Buck's attempts to snatch it.

"And since when are you the expert? You got an English degree I don't know about?"

"It doesn't take a degree to know that a six-letter word for 'a creation arousing awe' isn't 'woman.'"

Buck tapped the paper. "Lookie there, the w and the o are already filled in!"

"Lots of words begin that way."

"J.D., they even used the word 'arouse.' Now I don't know where you come from, but in my neck of the woods that spells woman for sure."

"Aw, Buck--"

"Wonder."

Buck and J.D. swiveled their heads toward Ezra, who never looked up from his cards. "Huh?"

"A creation arousing awe is a wonder. As in the Seven Wonders of the World? I believe you'll find that is the word you're searching for."

"Hey, he's right! That means seven down--'fit to eat'--is edible. Thanks, Ezra."

"Always happy to be of service."

"Still think woman is a better answer," Buck sniffed.

"Keep it down or you're going to wake Vin," Chris warned, heading for an empty chair.

"Too late." Vin squinted up at him, his voice thready but his eyes clearer than they'd been.

"Hey." Leaning on the rail, Chris smiled. "How do you feel?"

Vin screwed up his face. "Like somethin' crawled in my mouth 'n died."

"Nice image, Junior." Buck poured a cup of water while J.D. and Ezra gathered around the bed.

As he sipped from the straw, Vin scanned their faces. "I win the lottery or somethin'?"

"In a manner of speaking." Chris watched him closely. "What do you remember?"

Vin frowned. "We left the office, drove out to question..." He sucked in a breath, bolting upright. "Jonah!"

Monitors went crazy as Vin tensed, then folded over with a moan. Chris and Ezra seized his shoulders, easing him to the mattress. Chalk white, sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip as he coughed and panted.

"Oh, God. Hurts."

"Not a wise move, Mr. Tanner."

"Relax. Just breathe," Chris slid his hand into Vin's, wincing when his friend clamped down with bruising force.

"Easy...fer you...to say."

Buck returned from the bathroom with a damp cloth just as a gray-haired nurse bustled into the room. After she eyed the monitors, she looked pointedly at Vin.

"I'm Camilla, Mr. Tanner—your day nurse. These gentlemen warned me you were going to be trouble. Looks like they were right."

"Sorry, ma'am." Vin's breathing slowed but the heart monitor still beeped rapidly. "Forgot...for a minute."

She nudged Ezra aside and wrapped the blood pressure cuff around Vin's arm. "Got a quick reminder, did you?" The curve of her mouth softened the jibe.

Wincing through another spasm, Vin nodded.

Camilla removed the cuff and took his temperature. Peeling down the hospital gown, she checked the dressing on his chest. "Scale of 1 to 10?"

"Six."

Ezra rolled his eyes, Buck snorted, and Chris shook his head.

"Elevated heart rate and a cold sweat, not to mention the death grip you've got going on Mr. Larabee's hand? I'm thinking more like an eight or nine." Camilla met Vin's startled eyes with a steady gaze.

Flushing, Vin ducked his head. "Reckon."

She adjusted the gown and tucked the blanket around him with gentle hands. "I don't need you to be tough, Mr. Tanner. Just honest."

"Aw, hell. Might 's well...call me Vin."

Smiling now, she ruffled his hair. "I'll get you something for the pain, Vin. Think you could manage some juice?"

"Sounds like heaven, ma'am."

Chris suppressed a grin. What was it with Vin and old ladies? Looked like he was well on his way to charming "Attila Camilla" as easily as he had Nettie Wells.

"No need to trouble yourself, Miss Camilla. I can get Vin's juice." Buck flashed a blinding smile.

Cocking an eyebrow, Camilla stared him down. "With the aid of one of my nurses, no doubt. Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Wilmington. I think it's best you stay right where you are."

"Man, Buck, she's got your number!" J.D. hooted once she'd left the room.

"It does indeed appear that your days as hospital Lothario have come to an end," Ezra agreed.

"Somethin's wrong with a woman who won't succumb to my natural charisma, " Buck grumbled. "It ain't natural."

Chris listened with one ear, preoccupied by Vin's continued discomfort. He'd loosened his hold on Chris's hand, but his body still vibrated with tension. "Why don't you boys grab something to eat? Camilla would probably appreciate it if we gave Vin a little more breathing room."

Ezra picked up on the subtext. "That's an excellent idea. I noticed a cafe right around the corner that actually looks passable."

"Sounds good to me; I'm starving," J.D. said.

"Kid, you're always hungry." Buck cuffed him on the head as they walked to the door. "Need anything, Chris?"

"Coffee. Black."

"On its way. You be careful, Junior. Looked to me like Camilla had her eye on your assets."

"Fuck you...Bucklin."

When their voices had faded down the hallway, Vin looked at Chris, his expression troubled. "Level with me, Chris. What happened to the kid?"

Before he could respond, Camilla breezed in with a stainless steel tray and a carton of apple juice. After passing the juice to Chris, she swiped the I.V. port with alcohol and injected the contents of a syringe.

"Morphine," she told Vin. "If the juice goes down well you can have broth and Jell-O for dinner."

"Somethin' to look forward to," Vin muttered.

She gave him a reproving look, but Chris spied amusement beneath. "Behave yourself and I'll let you pick which flavor. Cross me and you automatically get green."

"Yes, ma'am."

Collecting the tray, she inclined her head to Chris. When he'd steadied the juice carton in Vin's shaky hands, he followed her to the door.

"What he needs most is rest," she said, her voice pitched for his ears alone. "The morphine will most likely knock him out. Let it."

Chris touched two fingers to his brow. "Yes, ma'am."

When he returned to the bed, Vin handed him the empty carton. His eyes already had the slightly unfocused look indicating heavy drugs, the pupils abnormally large. A little voice in Chris's head observed that if he stalled a few minutes the whole unpleasant conversation could be postponed. Vin wasn't long for this world.

Sighing, he lowered the bed rail and sat on the edge of the mattress. "I'm not sure how much you remember."

"'S pretty hazy. I remember how scared he was. How pissed you were."

"Yeah, well... Let's just say you helped me see through new eyes. The kid's a lot gutsier than I gave him credit for."

"He called the police?"

"Actually, he called Buck."

"Wasn't sure he had it in him."

"Like I said, the kid's tough. He not only led Buck to us, he got his dad and the two guys making the buy to come out in the open where Buck and the boys could take 'em down."

"What about his dad?" When Chris didn't answer immediately, Vin stiffened and clamped a hand onto his arm. "Dead?"

"Easy." Chris pried the fingers loose, clasping them in his. "Not dead. But he's hurt bad. Took slugs to the shoulder and belly. They're not sure if he'll make it."

Vin flung an arm over his eyes. "Damn," he said, his voice choked.

"There's more." Chris waited until Vin lowered his arm before continuing. "When the buyers got wind of what Jonah was doing, they came out shooting. Sinclair threw himself on top of the kid, shielded him with his own body. That's how he got shot."

Eyes huge in his pale face, Vin shook his head. "What? I...I don't understand..."

"I don't either. But the fact of the matter is, he sacrificed himself to save his son's life."

Vin turned his head, blinking hard. "Better he'd stayed a bastard."

Taken aback by the bitterness in his friend's voice, Chris watched Vin struggle for control. When it became clear his friend was withdrawing from him, he squeezed Vin's hand. "Hey. Talk to me, Cowboy."

"Playing the hero... Don't you see? It's gonna hurt the kid so much worse than anything he ever did with his fists."

He sounded on the verge of tears, and for the life of him, Chris couldn't understand why. "Hurt him? How?"

Vin closed his eyes. "I'm real tired, Chris."

Everything in him wanted to push, to demand an explanation for Vin's deep distress. But he remembered Camilla's words and the grave expression on Callaway's face. So Chris rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of Vin's hand until his fingers slowly uncurled and his breathing turned slow and deep.

"We're not finished with this, pard," he murmured. "Not by a long shot."

Continued in Chapter 10