Lost and Found – Part 2

It had been three days since the stranger had landed in Catherine's front yard. He had roused slightly a few times but had never come to full consciousness. He had taken on a fever that first night and was still too warm for her liking. He drank the liquids she gave him in small doses and slept. She had continued to rub liniment into his muscles every morning, and the swelling was nearly gone. The worst of it was on his right leg from hip to the mid-thigh. She figured it was from hitting the ground falling on his gun that she had removed. Nothing had felt broken, but she was sure it was badly bruised. However, she was no doctor.

Chris, Nathan, and Josiah headed out to the spot Vin had told Chris he was going. They found his campsite easily enough, but it had been cold for many days. They had been able to follow his tracks for a little ways before the winds had blown them away. Chris was getting edgier with worry as more time went by. They had stopped at a town not far from the found campsite, but no one had seen anyone matching Vin's description. Josiah sent a telegram to Buck relaying what they had found, and Buck sent back that Vin had not returned.

Buck was now just as worried as the others had been when they left town. JD and Ezra were worried about their missing tracker as well.

Chris, Josiah, and Nathan returned to town exactly a month after Vin left. Chris had wanted to continue looking, but Josiah and Nathan insisted that they should return to town to regroup, rest, and gather provisions as well as get a semblance of a plan before departing again. They could also use the others left behind. Chris reluctantly agreed. It would be easier to split up in different directions to check more territory. Mary even started wiring towns asking about anyone who might fit Vin's description. So far, they had found nothing.

Slowly, blue eyes blinked open and came into focus. It took a moment to register the beamed ceiling and he blinked at it a few times. His first realization was his head hurt then other pains became clear as he continued to blink at the beams in front of him. He closed his eyes and then opened them again before slowly moving them around what he could see of the room. He had not even made it half way around the room when he closed his eyes again, the pain in his head flaring. A scraping noise to his right brought his eyes flying open again and looking in that direction. The too sudden shifting of his head caused intense pain and he shut his eyes tight against it stifling a groan. The blue eyes slit open against the pain and he squinted toward the noise he had heard. He could make out movement across the room and opened his eyes further to focus better. Blinking several times to sharpen the blurring image, he finally made out a woman. She seemed to be cooking, putting spoonfuls of something in a pan. He watched her for several moments but could not place her. His eyes slowly tracked the area around the woman before returning to her.

Catherine was just finishing filling the muffin pan when she heard the quiet, "Ya can't see, can ya?" She froze, her breath coming faster in her surprise. She was not sure what she had expected when the man woke, but that was not it. Quietly she took a deep breath to calm herself before turning around and facing the bed. "How do you feel?" she asked anxiously moving toward him.

He blinked slowly. "Everythin' hurts," he managed as he watched her come closer only to stop a few feet away.

Catherine walked the last few feet to the table beside the bed and poured a glass of water before turning toward him again. "You should drink this," she told him and held out the glass.

He looked at the offered glass but when he tried to move his arm out from under the covers, he hissed at the pain it caused. He really did hurt everywhere. Quickly she was by the bed kneeling at its side. "I'm sorry," she said, a slight Scottish accent tinting her words. "Let me help you." She tentatively reached out, raised his head, and held the glass to his lips. That was painful too but he took several sips of the refreshing liquid before turning his head slightly away. Catherine lowered his head back down to the pillow and sat the glass back on the table.

He looked at her again, taking in her well-worn and many times mended dress before moving to her face. Now that she was closer, he could see her pale brown eyes staring back at him unseeing.

As if sensing him scrutinizing her she looked down and stood. "Are you hungry?" she asked as she turned away and walked back to the stove.

He closed his eyes feeling tired. "Maybe a little."

"I'll get you some broth."

He heard her rustling around before walking back over to the bed.

She sat the cup of broth on the table and stood by the side of the bed. "Do you think you can sit up a little?" she asked quietly. "If it's not too painful."

"Maybe." He shifted somewhat and groaned. "Maybe not." Pain was throbbing everywhere, his injuries fighting each other for prominence.

Standing there, she considered the options. He needed to eat. Finally, she reached down and slid her arms under the pillow, lifting him forward. He groaned with pain. "Just try to relax and let me lift you."

Her voice was soft by his ear and he held his breath as she moved him and sat behind him, cushioning him against her with the pillow. Slowly he released his breath and relaxed more into the pillow with a sigh.

Moving slowly so she did not shift him too much, she found the cup of broth and moved it in front of him. She cupped his chin in her left hand and brought the cup to his lips. Slowly, he drank until it was empty and closed his eyes sighing tiredly. She sat the cup aside and found the water-glass. "Water?" she asked softly.

"Please," he answered without opening his eyes. He was so tired, his body throbbing with pain. He drank the rest of the glass and opened his eyes to look around the room from his upright position. "What's yer name?"

He felt her take a deep breath before she answered, "Catherine. Yours?"

He thought about it, his breathing quickening as his mind was blank. He did not know his name. He realized he did not know anything before waking up here. He tensed and grunted as his muscles protested the strain.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she asked, concerned at his distress.

"I…I can't…remember." His voice was tight with fear.

"It's alright. It's alright," she soothed. "You've taken a blow to the head. Sometimes this happens. It's alright." She rubbed his arms gently through the quilt trying to comfort him.

"How long…" he did not finish the question, his mind still searching for anything he could latch onto.

"Six days." Her voice was a soft whisper in his ear. "You've been in and out the last five. I'm sure it will come back."

"What if it don't?"

"This is the first time you've woken. Give it time." She shifted behind him, preparing to lift him and lay him back down.

"Wait," he croaked.

"You should rest," she soothed.

"Stay…just a while." He felt empty and afraid and did not want to be alone.

His voice sounded small and she knew he was afraid of never regaining his memory. Had she not felt the same way at her own loss of memory so many years before? Of course, her memory returned within a few days, her eyesight had not. "All right," she whispered and settled again. "Rest, you're not alone."

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