Ch 3 Cowboy
Tim paced and was visibly twitching he was so anxious, he kept staring at the windows of the hospital. Art's phone rang and he jumped, Art waved a hand and he nodded as he answered," Art Mullen," he put the phone on speaker.

"Was wondering why you so interested in cowboy," the thick accented man was back," he is marshal," Tim felt like he'd been punched in the stomach," New deal," the man continued," you send us a helicopter or he dies."

"Let me talk to him," Art sighed.

"Talk," Arnold shoved the phone at Raylan's face. Raylan shook his head, Arnold hit him again," I said talk!"

"Is he okay?" Art pressed.

"He is fine, he refuses to talk."

"Unless I can hear his voice we don't have a deal," Art rubbed his temples.

"You see big glass window on hotel side?"

"Yes, we're down here by the Hilton," Art replied.

"We bring him there and show you since he won't talk," static and rustling," we call back when you see him," the phone beeped.

The minutes crawled by like hours as they waited for a sign that Raylan was still alive, Tim was livid," You need to let me go get him."

Raylan struggled, but he was dazed and Arnold was strong. Sizing him up he had a good fifty pounds on Raylan at least and, more importantly, a gun. Specifically, Raylan's gun," Why you no talk?" Arnold elbowed him in the back," I have gun, you walk! Answer me!" Raylan's chest stung like he'd been stabbed and he fell.

"You and I both know how this goes," he choked on his words," they're not letting you out of here and you're going to kill me."

Arnold grabbed his tie again," Maybe, but they watch you suffer first," he pulled and dragged Raylan down the hall.

Rachel put her arm around Tim's shoulders, he tried to shrug her off," I thought he was behind me," he kept saying.

"Raylan made a decision," she held him fast," you know how he is. There was nothing you could do."

"I could have waited on him."

Art's phone rang," Art Mullen."

"Since cowboy won't talk, but you shoot and we kill everyone."

"My men are standing down," Art assured him.

Tim's heart stopped as Raylan hit the glass, he lay still and didn't move. Arnold was shouting at him to get to his knees. Tim knew what he was doing,' He thinks if we can't confirm he's alive they won't have a deal and we can go in; or he wants us to see who's got him,' Tim licked his lips, his palms cold and clammy. The phone rustled and cut out a little, Arnold showed himself,' Good job, Raylan,' the man grabbed the back of Raylan's hair and pressed his face to the glass.

"You see?" He said into the phone," Marshal's alive."

"Raylan?" Art reached out.

"Art," Raylan's voice was weak, Tim covered his mouth to keep from shouting back to him.

"Raylan, are you okay?" Art gripped his phone so tight his knuckles were turning white.

"He made a mistake," Raylan struggled to keep his footing.

"What?" Arnold leaned around to look at his face and Raylan dropped to his knees and tackled him.

"Do we have a shot?" Art yelled into the radio.

A few seconds passed, then," I'm afraid I'll hit the marshal."

Raylan struggled with Arnold, who slammed him into the glass again. The air left his lungs and his vision blurred, but Arnold had made a huge mistake. He'd come alone. Raylan kneed him in the stomach and slid his foot behind the man's calf, bracing on the wall he kicked Arnold's knee as hard as he could. He felt a satisfying crunch as the knee shattered and buckled, Arnold screamed. Raylan fought with him over the rifle and Tim's heart soared as he won," Art!" He yelled into his phone, scrambling for the stairs.

"We're here Raylan!" Art's chest hurt.

"Stairs," he was breathing heavily, a loud crack followed by several more and silence.

"RAYLAN!" Tim sprinted for the doors, pushing past anyone in his way. His heart pounded as he reached the door to the stairs and tried to control himself as he ran up,' God dammit, Raylan,' he cursed,' I hope you killed that bastard,' he saw the sign for the third floor,' he better hope you killed him too.'

Raylan crawled towards the nearest room, maybe he could lock the door and be safe for awhile until someone came to get him. He clutched his cell phone and dialed Tim, he picked up and sounded out of breath," I'm coming, Raylan."

"T-tim, conf-frnce…" he rolled into the conference room and kicked the door closed.

"Conference room, I got you," Tim's footsteps echoed in the stairwell," I'm almost there, just hold on."

"Gunman, th…" he coughed, Arnold had hit something important.

"I'll find you, Raylan, I'm on the fifth floor. Just sit tight," Tim hung up and opened the door to the fifth floor. He made sure the hallway was cleared and started towards the large window, he felt a chill as he saw the blood. The large man lay dead on the floor,' Good job, Raylan,' at least he'd killed his assailant.

He followed the blood and saw it lead into a conference room, he opened the door and went inside. He almost forgot to close it behind him when he saw Raylan on the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

"Raylan?" He dropped to his knees,' Please be alive, please be alive.'

"T-tim?"

"Yeah, I got you," he pulled the med kit off his back and was thankful he'd come prepared.

"Gunmen…th-third…"

"Stop," Tim loosened Raylan's tie and unbuttoned his shirt,' Where's he hit?' He peeled the black shirt away from his friend's body, blood making it cling to him. He saw where Raylan had taped gauze over part of his chest. He pulled his knife out of its sheath," Where are you hit?" He asked," Just point."

"Gunmen," Raylan was insistent.

"He's dead, Ray," Tim pulled the other side of his shirt away and Raylan winced.

"T-tim, third floor," Raylan rolled into him and tried to sit up.

"They're on the third floor?" Tim pulled out his cell phone, Raylan nodded," Okay, Ray, just relax, I'm sending for help."

"Tim where are you?" Art asked the question even though he already knew the answer.

"I found him," Tim put the phone on speaker and set it down," he's in bad shape, Art. He said there's guys with guns on the third floor, we're on the fifth."

"There are seven floors in that hospital," Art replied," I can have some guys come get you two with a chopper. It'll take a few hours."

"He doesn't have a few hours," Tim hissed.

"Can you find a nurses' station and see if you can get some supplies to keep him stable until we can get there?"

"Do you know where one is?"

"I've got the blueprints of the hospital right here, there's one down the next hallway."

"Okay, let me see if I can get him on his feet," Tim turned off speakerphone and put the phone against his shoulder," Raylan," he shook him gently," Ray? There's supplies to help you not far from here."

"Mmmkay," Tim was trying to help him sit up, he couldn't remember the last time he'd hurt this badly. He got about halfway up and pain exploded through him, he yelled and Tim covered his mouth.

"Shhhh," Raylan nodded and he took his hand away," If you can't walk I'll carry you," his friend's breathing was labored," Just try not to scream, once I pick you up it'll get easier for you."

"It's the next intersection take a left and there's a station there. Should be stocked up," Art's voice came through the phone.

"I'm hanging up for now until I get him there," Tim told him," I can't put you on speakerphone in case they're looking for us."

"Understood. Tim, take care of him."

"I am, sir," he hung up the phone and turned back to Raylan," This is the easiest way I know to get you there," he draped Raylan's arm over his," Ready?" Raylan grunted and he pulled him into a fireman's carry as he stood up. Raylan grabbed his vest and held on, using his grip to stifle another yell," Not far now, can you shoot?" He held up his service weapon and Raylan took it,' Good sign,' Tim smiled a little.