Trampas was tense as he and the others continued to travel through the wilderness. The snow was increasing again, making visibility difficult and the journey slow. The horses snorted, displeased as they sank into the white.
Sam was still quiet, his eyes narrowed. Either he was expecting trouble or preparing for the possibility.
Travers was serious and grim, worried about reaching his patient. The more delays they had, the more likely it became that Sturdevant would be dead before they could ever arrive.
Trampas shifted in the saddle, uncomfortable with the long stretches of silence. But he had very little to say, so he just did not bother.
Until, that is, they approached a familiar site.
"Hey," he announced, "here's the cave."
Sam looked over. It was clearly empty. The sheriff could not have sent anyone to collect the mercenaries that much ahead of them. They would have passed each other on the trail.
"What's this about a cave?" Travers asked.
"Trouble," Trampas said harshly. "We were ambushed here this morning. We tied them up, but they must've gotten free."
"The sheriff's deputies might be here looking for them," Sam spoke. "Whoever he sent couldn't have been too much ahead of us."
"Well, ordinarily I might offer to help, but we're already late," Trampas frowned. "We can't afford any more stops."
"They'll probably stop us again before we get there," Sam said.
"Why?!" Travers exclaimed. "What do they want?!"
"Him," Trampas said, at the same time Sam said, "Me."
Travers frowned. "I know you said that someone was after your friend, but you didn't mention they'd already tried to get him. Maybe if we're lucky, they won't catch up. The deputies might keep them busy."
"Maybe," Trampas said, but he was doubtful.
xxxx
To all of their surprise, absolutely nothing happened. They traveled to the town nearest the inn and then left for the inn without incident, save for the frustrating blizzard slamming into their faces and eyes.
Night fell long before the inn came into view. And Trampas's stomach had started twisting long before that. What would they find inside the inn? Would Sturdevant still be alive? It had been over twenty-four hours since Trampas had left to find a doctor. He would frankly be amazed if Sturdevant had lasted this long.
On the other hand, the man certainly had struggled to last while lying outside for hours. To say he had high endurance was putting it mildly. Maybe he was still alive, still desperately clinging to any thread of hope.
One thing Trampas knew was happening was that The Virginian and Suzanne were worrying. Even if Sturdevant had sadly died, they would be wondering what had happened to Trampas and if he was ever going to return.
He sighed to himself. Well, they were here at last. In a few minutes, they would know the answers to Trampas's questions.
But Sam was tenser than ever. "Something isn't right," he declared. "It's too quiet."
Trampas frowned. "Why do you think that is?"
"I think my enemies came here to wait for us," Sam said, pulling out his gun.
A bullet sailed past his ear in the next instant.
"Holy . . . !" Travers pulled hard on the reins as his horse went wild with fear and surprise. The animal reared up but then came back down, slamming its hooves into the snow.
"Do you have a gun?" Trampas demanded, taking out his own.
"I hoped I'd never have to use one again, but yes, I carry one," Travers said, drawing it out. "In this territory it would be sheer folly not to have a gun."
Another bullet soared past. Sam leaped down from his horse, looking for a place to take cover.
Inside the house, The Virginian and Suzanne had both jumped a mile at the abrupt noise. "What's going on out there?!" Suzanne cried in appalled horror. "Who's shooting?!"
"I don't know." The Virginian left the bedroom, grabbing for the gun belt he had left in the living room. Suzanne followed, her eyes widening as she watched him strap it on.
"You're not going out there," she exclaimed.
"I have to find out what's wrong," The Virginian replied. "It could be Trampas in trouble." He took the gun out of its holster. "You'd better stay in the bedroom with Mr. Sturdevant. All this commotion could get him so upset his fever would rise."
Suzanne bit her lip but nodded. "Alright. But be careful." She hurried into the bedroom to tend to their patient. Sturdevant had been doing poorly ever since he slipped into unconsciousness, but he was still stubbornly holding on. Suzanne had no intention of allowing him to die now, from a stray bullet.
The Virginian approached the front door and flung it open, staring into the night as he looked desperately for Trampas. Bullets flew back and forth in every direction. But without being able to see where Trampas was (if he was even there), The Virginian couldn't know in which direction to fire.
He slipped out of the inn, keeping low as he hurried behind some crates. A man he didn't know was there. "What's going on?" he demanded.
"We just arrived and someone started shooting at us," the man replied. "I'm Travers. I'm here to help a wounded man."
"Thank God you're here," The Virginian proclaimed. "Look, I'll take you in the back way right now so you can start seeing to him. Then I'll come back out here. Is Trampas alright?"
"He was a few minutes ago," Travers said. He got in one final shot before following The Virginian to the back door. "How bad is the patient?"
"Pretty bad, I'd say," The Virginian told him. "He seemed okay for a while, but then he passed out again and his fever's been getting worse."
Travers frowned. "I wish we could have got here sooner."
The Virginian opened the back door. "Right now, I'm just glad you got here at all."
Travers hastened inside and The Virginian shut the door after him. Just as he did, he heard another shot and an immediate, pained cry.
The Virginian froze. It wasn't Trampas's voice, but it was still familiar. Actually, if he thought about it he supposed it sounded similar to Sturdevant's voice, but . . .
A figure ran over, clutching his upper arm as he fired back. When he finally hit one of their opponents, the amount of gunfire lessened.
He looked up at the astonished Virginian, managing a weak grin. "Hey."
The Virginian stared at the ghost that had just run up to him out of the night. "Sam?" he whispered in disbelief. "It can't be."
"It is, though. In the flesh," Sam drawled. "What's left of that, anyway."
This was not a good time for a reunion, but The Virginian shook his head in amazement and awe all the same. "I can hardly believe it. Sam, I've thought you were dead!"
"I know," Sam frowned, "and I'm sorry about that. Somebody did try to kill me and almost made it. Probably the same person these idiots are trying to kill me for."
"The Sheriff?" The Virginian said with narrowed eyes.
"That's right," Sam nodded. "I'll tell you about it later."
"Probably a good idea," The Virginian remarked, as the bullets became more insistent again. He and Sam both fired.
"I got another one," Trampas called from another direction.
Several more exchanges of gunfire left one of their attackers dead and two superficially wounded. Sam and Trampas hauled them up.
"We'll lock you two in the shed," The Virginian determined. "We'll take care of your wounds and send the doctor out to look at you when he's finished with our main patient."
"And you'd both better do some talking if you know what's good for you," Trampas added. "Such as who you think will pay a big bounty for Sam here."
The men glared. "Several people would," one retorted. "Maybe even Winthrop."
"Maybe," The Virginian agreed. "But it wasn't him you were thinking of, was it?"
"No," another finally admitted. "It was the Sheriff of Paradise Creek. We know he hates your Sam friend."
"Maybe he does, but that doesn't mean he'd go pay a pack of mercenaries to bring him in," The Virginian replied.
"Hank—the guy you killed—saw the Sheriff try to kill him," the first said. "And he saw that Sam made it out alive. So he got us together and we've been tracking him. We just finally caught up out here."
"Will you repeat all that in court?" The Virginian demanded.
"If we'll get lighter sentences for it," the second smugly answered.
"You probably don't deserve it, but we'll see." The Virginian kept his gun on them with his good hand as Sam and Trampas marched them to the shed.
xxxx
The Virginian was still reeling moments later, as he and Sam and Trampas headed back to the house. Sam insisted that he was alright, that the bullet had only grazed him as it went past, but The Virginian still wanted to see that the wound was properly treated in the house. He had believed for so long that Sam was dead. Now here he was, with not much worse damage than a flesh wound.
The Virginian shook his head. Imagine, Sam somehow finding his way out here and running across Trampas. What were the odds of that?
"What happened to your arm?" Sam asked in concern.
The Virginian glanced at the sling. "It's my shoulder, and it's a long story," he admitted. "It's part of the story of what happened while we were here.
"But speaking of people being hurt . . . Sam, why didn't you let me know you were alright?" he couldn't help exclaiming.
"I did, as soon as I was well enough to write," Sam protested. "I didn't get an answer, so I figured you were on a cattle drive. And I came here to do one more job before heading back to Shiloh."
Trampas opened the door for them, staying silent as they continued their conversation.
"You're coming back?" The Virginian said in amazement.
Sam grinned. "If there's work for me. I'm not cut out for ranching, but I thought I'd offer my services as a security guard. That's at least closer to what I'm used to."
"I'm sure we can fit you in," The Virginian said sincerely. He would certainly do all that he could to see that it happened.
"He wasn't too bad of a traveling companion, I guess," Trampas mused. "Even though he sure lived up to your name for him." He moved on ahead. "I'll get the stuff to fix his arm."
Suzanne emerged from the bedroom at the sound of all the voices. "What's going on?" she cried in disbelief and worry. "I was sure someone was going to be killed!"
"We could have been," The Virginian acknowledged. "But everything's alright now. How's Sturdevant?"
Suzanne sighed. "Well, he isn't very good, but the doctor thinks he got here in time to save him." She looked to the newcomer in confusion. "Excuse me, but who are you?"
"Oh, this is Sam," The Virginian said, as Sam smiled and tipped his hat to her. "He's a friend of mine." He smiled. "I thought I'd lost him, but he's somehow found his way back."
Suzanne smiled too, but her eyes were still sad. "That's wonderful. Oh, but Sam, you're hurt."
"It's not serious," The Virginian said. "Trampas was just going to get what we need to help him."
He paused, really looking at Suzanne. It must be difficult for her, to see someone else find a loved one again while she still didn't have Louis.
Trampas paused too, thinking the same thing. And he knew the additional fact of her also missing the son who had been taken from her and given to a foster family in Fargo. That would make it a double blow.
Neither he nor The Virginian knew quite what to say, however. And it didn't seem the time or the place. So Trampas hurried to collect the materials and The Virginian led Sam to the kitchen table.
"How in the world did you end up traveling with Trampas?" he wondered.
Sam shrugged. "I saw him in town and recognized the name. I asked him if he knew you."
"It's lucky for both of you that you remembered," The Virginian declared.
"I think so now too," Sam said. "I didn't so much when I first started traveling with him."
"You know, it's really uncanny," said The Virginian. "The fellow we've got here looks an awful lot like you."
"So Trampas told me." Sam peered at The Virginian. "For you to think it too, there must really be something to it."
"You might not think so when you see him," The Virginian said with a funny smile. "Especially when you hear how he talks."
"Real formal or something, huh?"
"Something like that," The Virginian agreed.
Returning with the medical materials, Trampas paused and listened to the conversation before shaking his head. Sam really did open up around The Virginian. The difference in how he was talking now was clear.
"Here," Trampas said, setting the stuff on the table.
"Thanks, Trampas," The Virginian said, upbeat as he reached for some alcohol and a cloth to cleanse the wound.
Trampas stepped back in approval. The Virginian was happier now too; the sadness he had carried since learning of his friend's death was gone.
And Trampas grinned. Things were getting back to the way they should be.
xxxx
Sturdevant rallied under Travers' watchful care. Although there was still some concern over his survival, he proved that he still had a lot of fight left in him. By the end of the next day, Travers was certain that he would recover.
"Thank you so much for what you've done for him," Suzanne smiled as she watched Travers collect his instruments and medicine.
"He did most of it," Travers acknowledged. "That's one man who's just determined not to die."
"And that is something of which I am very glad," Suzanne declared.
Travers straightened, regarding her curiously. "Forgive me for my impertinence, but I've seen how you've been looking after him. Do you have some sort of . . . attachment to him?"
Suzanne flushed a deep red. "Not at all," she retorted. Crossing to the window and gazing out at the world of white, she went on, "I just feel that there's been too much loss lately. I like to see something going right at last."
Travers nodded. "That's always encouraging, especially when it comes at a time when we badly need it."
Suzanne nodded too, faraway now. "Yes."
xxxx
It was strange, to open his eyes again to the world of the living. Every time he sank out of consciousness, he feared it would be his last moment on the mortal plane. But then he came back to himself and found that he was still drawing breath.
This time as his senses were restored, he felt stronger somehow. For some reason, he didn't believe that he would fall unconscious again.
"Well, welcome back," The Virginian greeted.
Sturdevant looked up in surprise. "Am I staying back this time?" he wondered.
"I think so," The Virginian nodded. "That's what the doctor says, anyway. Trampas finally got back safe with him."
"I'm glad to hear it." Sturdevant regarded him in all seriousness. "I'm indebted to all of you for everything you've done to preserve my life."
"The only payment we need is for you to get better," The Virginian said.
"Then I'll do my best to oblige," Sturdevant promised.
The Virginian looked thoughtful. "Judging from how you've done so far, I don't think we have anything to worry about."
Sam wandered into the room, curious. Coming to stand by the bed, he studied Sturdevant and folded his arms. "I suppose maybe there's a slight resemblance between us," he mused.
Sturdevant raised an eyebrow. "You're my supposed double?"
"That's what they tell me," Sam grunted.
"I was under the impression you had passed on from this life."
"So was everyone else," Sam said. "But you can see I didn't."
"Well then." Sturdevant took the glass of water from the nightstand by his bed and lifted it in an attempt at a toast. "Here's to surviving against all odds."
"I'll drink to that," Sam drawled.
Sturdevant took a sip. "By the way, Sir. Your profession—is it still that of a bodyguard?"
"I'll stick pretty close to it," Sam said. "I'm thinking of going into security work."
"At least that will hopefully be more legal," Sturdevant remarked.
"You were going to help start up a revolution against the Canadian government," Sam pointed out. "Last I heard, that's definitely not legal."
"It's still not comparable to being paid as little more than a hired murderer," Sturdevant retorted.
The Virginian smiled in dismay and shook his head, getting up to quietly slip out the door. This was about how he had imagined their meeting would go.
Suzanne met him at the doorway. "What's going on in there?" she frowned, hearing the swiftly raising voices.
"Oh, it seems Mr. Sturdevant and Sam are having a little difference of opinion," The Virginian replied, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"What?" Suzanne peered into the room. "Mr. Sturdevant's awake? Do you think it's wise to get him so excited like this so soon?"
"I don't think there's anything to worry about," The Virginian said honestly. "They won't be able to stand each other long enough for him to come down sick again."
Sure enough, Sam marched out of the bedroom after scarcely more than three minutes. "You're right about that character," he said to The Virginian. "He's a real stuffed shirt."
The Virginian looked up from where he was sitting at the table. "There's still one thing you two have in common besides your looks," he said. "You're both scrappers. Anybody who tries to take one of you down doesn't know what he's in for."
Sam considered that. "I guess so."
"And if anyone decided to take on the both of you together, well, I poor pity him," The Virginian went on.
Trampas laughed.
Sam pulled up a chair. "Now that he's so clearly on the mend, how much longer are you planning to hang around here?"
"Not too much longer," The Virginian said. "The snow's thick, but at least the blizzard's stopped. The trial of those outlaws will be soon and we'll need to stick around for that, but after that I think we oughtta be able to go whenever we want."
"Good," Sam declared. "I don't know how long I can tolerate being under the same roof with that Sturdevant."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll make do, Sam," Trampas spoke up. "Like always."
"And he'll have to stay here for a while after we're gone," Sam said. "I don't envy this Suzanne girl, being left with him."
"They seem to get along alright," The Virginian said. "I expect they'll continue to."
Trampas looked to the bedroom, where Suzanne had entered to check on Sturdevant after the argument with Sam. From what he had seen since coming back, he had to agree with The Virginian.
He had to admit, he was glad that they wouldn't be leaving Suzanne all by herself to close up the lodge and travel to Fargo. Maybe this way, she would find friendship with her unexpected houseguest, someone with whom to share her loneliness.
"Yeah," he said. "I think she'll be just fine. They both will."