Chapter 3

Chris led his horse down the river's edge, carefully looked across the water that continued to flow aggressively. It had stopped raining and the sun peeked from behind the clouds, but just as it had appeared it quickly disappeared, and it would only be a matter of time before the weather started again.

"We need to cover more ground if we're goin' to find him," Buck said. He looked at the river, sighed, and ran his left hand over his face. He paused at his lip to scratch at his mustache. "Damn it, Chris, stop a minute!"

Chris abruptly turned, his horse's reins squeezed in his hand. "And do what, Buck?!" His duster flapped against his legs. "Help us look, or get your ass back to Four Corners!"

"I'm not turnin' my back on 'im, an' you know it! Damn it! You can't control the weather!"

"I let 'im go, Buck!" Chris stepped forward. "Me — not you!"

Vin cleared his throat: "With the speed this river is flowin' an' if Ezra got caught in the current, he could be miles down river." He scratched the back of his neck and stretched tight muscles. "Ezra's a good swimmer, an' knowin' him, he could 'ave managed to get to shore an' he's probably walkin' back to town."

"You keep thinkin' like that, Vin," Chris said. He turned and continued his trek.

Buck rubbed his eyes and then the bridge of Trouble's nose.

Vin clenched his fists and sighed. He still hurt, and wished he were back in town soaking in a hot tub anticipating the comforts of his wagon. Ezra wasn't wrong all the time, there were advantages to being comfortable. "Come on, Buck — before Chris walks himself straight into hell."

"That's the problem, Vin… he ain't walked out yet."

Gertrude stepped onto the front porch and looked across the river, enjoying the brief but pleasant sunshine. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then sighed. With a cup of coffee in hand she allowed herself to feel the bitter wind as it swept past her face. Once the clouds blocked the rays she looked toward the puddles and the work that would need to be done during the spring months.

It was simple, out of the way, peaceful. Their farm was not known for large bounties or weighted stock. James had built the house next to the river because Jane loved the sound of the water. The one story, two bedroom home had barely been large enough for their family, but they had made do with what they had. And then, life had taken over. The children had moved away, and James had died while harvesting his fields. Alone, Jane had called for her sister…and Gertrude answered.

"It's going to snow," Jane said, and stepped beside Gertrude. "I can feel it."

Gertrude looked up, and caught sight of the swaying treetops. A cold wind bit at her skin and she watched the clouds darken. "We should bring in more wood before this next storm hits."

Jane nodded, and silently wished the weather would decide on winter or spring. Snow had fallen and covered most of the land, and then the rain had started. For a while it would snow, rain, then snow, but the past several days had produced nothing but rain. And now it looked as though the snow would return.

"What's that?" Gertrude said, and looked toward the embankment.

"What?" Jane looked in her sister's direction and saw nothing.

"There." Gertrude pointed and furrowed her brow. "There's something out there."

"I don't see anything."

"There…" she insisted, and grabbed her skirts. "It's next to the bolder by the river." She stepped off the porch and jogged toward it.

"It could be something dangerous…Gertrude," Jane said, and quickly followed. "We must be careful."

Gertrude stopped suddenly. "Dear heavens, JANE!" She turned and stumbled backward, surprised to see her sister so close behind her.

"Do you think he's alive?" Jane grabbed Gertrude's arm as they looked at the body laying chest down in the mud. His face turned away from them.

"I don't know."

"He could be dangerous."

"If he's alive, Jane, he'll need our help."

Jane pulled her sister to a stop by grabbing her arm. "We're alone out here — we can't even get to help should something happen."

"I won't leave him out here… not like this." Gertrude pulled out of her sister's grasp and walked toward the stranger.

Soaking wet and covered in mud he had crawled his way up from the river. Handprints and toe-points made by his struggles marred the ground.

Gertrude carefully knelt by the stranger's head and placed a hand on his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt. "Jane, he's alive! Dear God above."

Jane joined her sister. "Should we turn him over?"

"We need to get him to the house; he's chilled to the bone." She grabbed his arm, just below his right shoulder and with her sister's help, rolled him onto his back.

"We could get him to the house in the wheelbarrow," Jane said, and watched her sister wipe mud from the stranger's face.

"The mud's too deep," Gertrude said.

"He's too heavy to carry."

"Go get a blanket from the house, we'll roll him onto it and pull him up." She watched a snowflake land on and melt on her hand. "Hurry, Jane."

By the time they got him to the house and up the steps, the snow had started falling heavily. It drifted as the wind caught flakes, sent them against bushes, trees, fences, and buildings. Jane placed her hands on her back as pains flanked her sides.

His pants were ripped at the knees, signs of his struggle while crawling his way to land. Buttons were missing from his shirt, vest, and jacket, ripped free from the force of the water. Gertrude fought the cracking of her knees as she grabbed a washrag and basin.

"I still have some of James' things in my bureau," Jane said, and wiped her brow with the back of her wrist. "He's terrible sick, Gertrude — if he got river water into his lungs —"

"We'll worry about getting him clean and warm first," she said, and ignored his rattled breathing.

"Gertrude?"

"We have to try, Jane," she looked up and met her sister's eyes. "We have to try."

Jane nodded and quickly disappeared into her bedroom while Gertrude got onto her knees and started wiping the mud from the stranger's face. Red welts were beneath his chin and across his face. A long gash ran over his left eyebrow. She looked up as Jane reentered the room with a nightshirt in her hand. She could see the despair in Gertrude's eyes.

"I'll get a bath ready for him," Jane said, and watched her sister.

Gertrude nodded, and placed her hand on his chest. He was cold to the touch and she could feel his struggles to breathe. He took only shallow breaths, and he remained unaware of his surroundings. He did not shiver, move, or act like a man struggling to survive, but rather a man waiting to die.

Vin stopped, blew into his hands and looked at Chris as he continued his search for Standish. "We ain't gonna find 'im," he said, and pulled the collar of his jacket up and around his neck. "Not in this weather."

Chris stopped, watched his breath crystallize, and then disappear. "I let 'im go, Vin."

Vin pulled him to a stop by his arm. "You did what you could — ain't no one here could've done any better."

Chris looked toward Buck who had taken up the rear, still leading Ezra's big chestnut.

"We need to get back to town before this storm hits full force…" Vin took a deep breath, "we may never find 'im. That water's too damn cold an' the current's too fast."

Chris nodded. He knew in his gut that Vin was right, but facing his failure was unbearable. He had failed before, lost his son, his wife, and a very large part of himself. It had taken him nearly three years to find himself, to put his past behind him… and he had not done it alone. It had taken six men, six men with different backgrounds and lives to force him out of his despair while all worked toward one goal… protect the town of Four Corners. And they had done it… they had managed to do something that nothing else could.

There was a strong possibility one of those men, one of his friends was gone… but friends died everyday. It was a sad part of life. Chris swallowed and looked over the raging river as snow started to slowly blanket the banks. Damn the nature of things… damn it to hell.

"Buck," Chris said, turning, "you an' Vin head back to Four Corners —"

"An' what… stick around town while you freeze your ass off?"

"We're out of supplies an' the weather is turnin'," Vin said, "unless you plan on dyin' out here, Chris, you'd better start lookin' at this clear like. Let's get back to town, get some supplies, an' start over in the next day or two…we're short horses, food, blankets, an' clothes an' I for one don't want my ass found early spring like some city slick who got lost."

"And what about Ezra?" Chris said.

"If he's still in this water… there ain't anyone — even Nate — who could help 'im, an' if he ain't, then let's hope he got help, because right now we ain't fit enough to help a stranded kitten."

"Damn it, Vin." Chris rubbed his eyes. He wanted to be dry, warm, have a stomach full of food and a warm drink to settle his nerves. And damn if he did not feel guilty for it.

"Vin' right," Buck said, "an' we need some fresh eyes — hell, if anyone could survive," he swallowed, "it'd be Ezra."

Vin turned and felt his back twinge. "I'll ride double with Buck…" he paused, rode out his pain and exhaustion, "we'll find 'im."

Chris looked out over the river one last time, watched in horror as the snow covered the ground and everything on it. They would have to hope for rain if they were going to find anything.