Chris sighed heavily and opened his eyes to the dull light cast by the fire burning across the room. He licked at dry lips and frowned when he moved his arm and felt something attached to it. He could see someone lying next to the fire and recognized the figure even as he tried to move and set off an explosion of pain in his right leg.
Chris breathed through tightly clenched teeth as he tried to ride out the sickening waves of agony and felt someone touch his right shoulder. He could hear voices speaking worriedly, but could not find the strength to ease the worry he heard in their tones.
"Easy, Chris, I'm going to give you something to help with the pain," Jackson said and quickly injected the required meds in Larabee's IV line. "That should work pretty fast."
Larabee didn't have the strength to answer as the pain continued to sap his energy. He swallowed convulsively until the agony finally eased and he opened his eyes to find six men watching him closely. "Now t…that's a sc…scary sight," he managed and forced a smile to his face.
"Yer not lookin' ta spry yerself right now," Tanner said from his spot near the fire.
"Chris, do you feel like eating something?" Jackson asked.
"Think so," Larabee said, holding his breath as Wilmington eased him up and Dunne place another pillow behind his back.
"Here you go, Boss," Sanchez said and held out the bowl of stew to the injured blond.
"Thanks," Larabee said and frowned when he noticed his hands were shaking. He could feel the others watching him and took the first spoonful of stew, fighting the nausea that churned through his gut. Chris knew if he didn't eat it would just make the others worry even more, and forced several more spoonfuls before handing the bowl to the ex-preacher.
"Here, Chris," Jackson said and held a cup of steaming liquid toward his friend.
"What is it?" Larabee asked.
"Tea, with sugar and lemon," Jackson answered. "It's supposed to make you feel better…least that's what my mom always said."
"Must be right up there with chicken soup," Wilmington said.
Chris held the cup in both hands, enjoying the warmth that spread through his fingers. He closed his eyes and shifted his legs, biting back a gasp as the movement reminded him of the wound to his right leg. He opened his eyes and looked down toward the end of the couch as Jackson lifted the blanket from the swollen limb.
"Chris, there's nothing else I can do until the storm ends and we get you to the hospital," Jackson told him.
"You're doing all you can, Nate…how'd you get all this stuff?" Larabee asked of the IV and meds he'd been given.
"I saw Kojay when I went to pick Rain up at the clinic to take her to the airport. I was telling him we were leaving earlier than we'd planned because there was a storm coming in and he jokingly asked if I had everything we'd need if there was an emergency. I told him I was taking everything I had and he added several items form the clinic."
"The Morphine?" Larabee asked.
"It's in the paramedic kit and I threw that in with the stuff Kojay gave me…"
"Good thing you did," Wilmington said and watched Larabee's eyes close. He moved to the window and looked out at the snowy landscape. He couldn't see the lake through the swirling storm that made drifts as high as the cabin in some places. He glanced toward the fireplace and knew it was time to bring in more wood from the shed and reached for his boots and coat.
"Where are you going, Buck?" Dunne asked.
"We need more wood," the rogue answered.
"I'll go with you," the Bostonian offered and grabbed his jacket.
"Nathan, stay here with Chris and Vin while we grab enough wood to get us through the night," Sanchez said as Standish passed him his jacket before pulling on his own.
Nathan nodded and turned to see Vin trying to stand and moved to help him. He maneuvered the Texan into the armchair before pouring him a cup of coffee and bringing him one of the sandwiches Ezra and JD had made.
"Nathan, how does his leg look?" Tanner asked softly.
"It's bad, Vin…the swelling is getting worse and if we don't get him out of here I'm going to have to drain those wounds and clean them again. His temperature's up a bit, but it's not too bad yet and I can give him Tylenol to help bring it down. The problem is no matter what I do it's not going to be enough…he needs antibiotics…strong ones," Jackson answered honestly.
"We'll get him out of here," the Texan said and watched as Jackson reached for his phone.
"There's no service right now. I can't even call Kojay to update him," the medic told him.
"He's a fighter, Nathan, he'll hang on until rescue gets here."
"How exactly did he get caught in the bear trap?" Jackson asked.
"Poachers…we heard 'em a couple of times and decided ta go see if we could track them down and let the local cops know where they are. Buck and JD went south…me and Chris went north. We found a couple of dead animals…bastards just took what they wanted and left the carcass in the snow. Chris saw something and walked over to pick it up."
"What was it?"
"A cell phone…think it's in my coat pocket," Tanner answered. "We figure it might help the locals identify the poachers. It was just after he found it that he stepped into that trap."
"He's lucky it didn't sever his foot from his leg," Jackson said.
"Damn thing must have malfunctioned because of the branch stuck in it," Tanner said as the others returned, each one carrying a heavy load of wood.
"Good thing," Jackson said and moved out of the way as the four men brought the wood over to the box near the fireplace. He knew he had to check the wounds and figured it was best done while the blond slept. He moved back to the couch and pulled the coffee table close enough to sit on. He pulled the blanket back and gently touched the injured foot, relieved to find a pulse that signaled there was still life. Knowing the trap was rusty worried him because of the very real possibility of infection. Truth was it was probably already starting and he gently removed the bandages holding the splint in place.
"Josiah, can you and Buck give me a hand here?" Jackson said.
"What do you need?" Sanchez asked.
"I'm going to check the wounds and he's not going to be happy about it even with the Morphine I gave him. You and Buck need to hold him down if he shows any signs of coming around," Jackson warned.
"Nathan, is there anything we can do to help?" Dunne asked.
"Grab the saline from my kit and another roll of gauze," Jackson ordered and pressed gently at the area surrounding one of the puncture sites, grimacing when a mixture of blood and pus oozed from the wound. He repeated the process with each one; irrigating it with the saline and dabbing it clean with several gauze pads. The process took 15 minutes and he carefully re-wrapped the injured limb before placing a dry pillow beneath the leg once more.
"How bad is that, Nathan?" Wilmington asked.
"It's about what I expected, Buck," Jackson answered and got rid of the soiled bandaging. "Look, there's nothing I can do except keep it as clean as possible and drain it. There's just enough Morphine left for one more shot and after that it's just Tylenol…"
"Ya got the stuff I have, Nathan," Tanner offered of the Tylenol number threes.
"They'll help with the fever, but may not be much help with the kind of pain he's gonna have," Jackson said.
"Can we take him out by snowmobile?" Standish asked.
"Not in this storm and there's no way he'd be able to sit for that long. No, we need to wait for the storm to end and Medivac to get off the ground," Jackson answered.
"This damn storm doesn't seem to be letting up at all," Wilmington said and looked at his watch. It was four AM and he realized it was Christmas Eve, but right now he didn't feel like celebrating Christmas, not when Chris could lose his life because they couldn't get him to the hospital.
"Look, there's not much more we can do now so why don't you boys get some rest," Jackson suggested.
"Nathan, I doubt any of us can sleep," Wilmington said.
"Might I suggest that you are the one Chris will need when he wakes up. That makes it imperative that you sleep, Nathan," Standish observed.
"Ezra is right, Brother, go crawl into bed and we'll wake you if he wakes up," Sanchez said.
"I'm used to staying up late and still consider this night so why don't the rest of you get some sleep and I will take first watch?"
"You sure, Ezra?" Tanner asked.
"Most assuredly," Standish said and poured himself a cup of coffee while the others reluctantly called it a night. Vin and Buck made their beds near the fire while the other made use of the beds. It wasn't long before the unmistakable sounds of snoring told him the others were sleeping and he continued his silent vigil over the injured man.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Ezra reached for the deck of cards and shuffled them softly as he watched Chris Larabee sleep. There was no sign of pain on the pale face, but he knew that would change once Larabee was awake. The fact that Nathan would soon be out of morphine was not lost on any of them. It meant Chris would have to ride out the pain and this time he didn't have a choice in the matter.
Ezra heard a soft moan from the injured man and watched as the eyes slowly opened and glazed sea green eyes tried to focus. He leaned closer and waited for the blond to recognize him before speaking. "Would you like something to drink, Chris?"
"Whis…key?" Larabee asked and struggled to sit up.
"I am afraid I value my life too much to chance Nathan's ire if I were to agree to give you such libations," Standish told him.
"Damn…why are we still here?"
"The storm is still raging outside and everything is grounded. We are trapped here for the duration," Standish told him.
"Everyone else sleeping?"
"Yes, we thought it best to sleep while…"
"We, Ezra, then why are you awake?"
"I volunteered to watch over you…"
"You drew the short straw," Larabee said with a slight smile.
"We did not draw straws…"
"I know," Larabee said and rubbed his right thigh as pain radiated upward from the injured limb.
"Should I wake Nathan?" Standish asked.
"No, let…let him sleep," the blond told him and tried to get comfortable. He knew Standish was watching him, and tried to hide just how much pain he was in. Chris tried to ignore what was happening and reached up to touch his forehead as he again shifted his leg. This time there was no stopping the pain that shot up his leg and he swallowed several times in an effort to stop the rising nausea. He felt hands ease him onto his side as he was violently sick before lying back with a groan to find Nathan had taken Ezra's place with the others standing nearby.
"Chris, I've only got enough for one more shot of Morphine…"
"I'm okay, Nathan," Larabee lied.
"No, you're not, but you will be," Jackson said. "Once this storm lets up it won't take long to get you to the hospital, but right now we don't know how long it's going to last. If you need this shot now I'll give it to you, but it's the last I have."
"It's not so bad right now," the blond said and knew his friends could see right through him. "What time is it?"
"A little after eight in the morning," Jackson answered and reached for the thermometer and BP cuff. He knew before he even checked that Larabee was running a fever and reached for the bottle of Tylenol Three. He put two in his hand and held them toward Larabee as Wilmington brought him a glass of water. "Chris, these will help with the fever and might even take the edge off for a little while."
"Thanks…Vin might need them," Larabee said.
"My back's better'n it was, Chris…take 'em," the Texan ordered and watched as Larabee swallowed the pills and chased them down with a little water. He watched Jackson try his cell phone again, but there was still no signal and he shivered as the medic straightened the blankets over him. He listened to his friends talking softly and tried to sleep, but the pain was a constant, as if it was a living thing that was not to be denied.
"Nathan, when the snow stops I'll take a snowmobile and head toward Red Lodge," Tanner said.
"Not with that back you won't," Jackson said.
"Nathan's right, Vin, you're in no shape to go. I'll take off as soon as the weather clears," Wilmington said.
"I'll go with you," Sanchez said.
"It could be hours before it clears," Dunne said.
"It's Christmas Eve, Kid, time to hope for a miracle," Wilmington told him.
"The Lord is listening, Buck," Sanchez said.
"I hope so, Josiah, because right now Chris needs one," Tanner said, unconsciously rubbing at his lower back.
"Buck, why don't we start breakfast," the ex-preacher suggested and moved to get the supplies they needed. He mixed up a batch of dough for biscuits and soon had them in the oven while Buck sliced ham for the skillet.
Chris could smell the food, but all it did was aggravate his rebellious stomach. He stayed under the blankets with his eyes closed, but cried out when he coughed and his right leg shifted off the pillow. He felt hands on his body and herd muffled voices as someone took his hand. He knew Jackson was giving him the last of the Morphine and wished he could assure them he was all right, but he didn't have the energy as he sank toward the darkness that awaited him.
TBC