The Devil's Destiny---9
Buck, JD, and Ezra wrapped cloth around their faces before moving into the room. The sight that met their eyes was one that was ingrained on their minds forever. The four bodies lay in a mass of congealed blood and JD was hard pressed to keep from gagging.
"Easy, Kid," Wilmington's muffled voice came through the cloth, calming the young, pale Bostonian.
"B...Buck, I... they're just kids..."
"I know, JD, but right now there's nothing we can do for them. We gotta get them out to the barn before Nathan and Vin get here with Chris. It may sound cold but they're dead and Chris is alive. We gotta concentrate on him now."
Standish knew the ladies man wasn't nearly as detached from the scene as he pretended. He could see the unshed moisture in the pained blue eyes. "Shall we get this morbid job over with?" The conman hid behind his own emotional facade in an effort to keep his poker face from slipping. One look from the older man told him it wasn't working.
"JD, go take the blanket off that bed. We'll put them in it and carry them out to the barn." He knelt beside the bodies and bowed his head. "God, forgive me. I wish there was another way," he whispered as he felt the tears fall unashamedly from his eyes.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
An hour later the three emotionally and physically exhausted men stood on the narrow porch and watched the wagon pull into the yard. They hurried to meet their friends, their eyes devouring the sight of the still breathing gunslinger.
The wagon stopped in front of the house and Jackson hopped down. "Is everything ready?"
"We moved the family into the barn and opened up all the windows and doors in the house," Wilmington explained.
"We put water on to boil, Nate," the shaken youngest offered.
The healer couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. The young man from the east was quickly learning how cruel life could be in the west. "That's great JD," he offered as he moved to the back of the wagon.
"We prepared a bed in the c...children's room, Mr. Jackson," Standish explained.
"Can you bring my things in there, JD?" Jackson didn't need to look to know his orders were being carried out.
"Sure, Nathan." The kid grabbed the saddlebags and other items and hurried into the house.
"Is he awake, Vin?" the healer asked.
"Been awake for awhile, Nate," the sharpshooter answered. He knew the instant his friend woke up. The green eyes opened for just an instant as if making sure this was real and not a dream.
"Chris."
Larabee opened his eyes as far as he could. The swelling from the beating he'd taken increased to the point where they were mere green slits. "N...Nathan, h...help."
The two words spoke of the raw pain the man suffered from and Jackson bit his lower lip, forcing a smile to his own tired features. "I'm gonna help you as soon as we get you inside, Chris. Buck, Ezra, you two got his legs, Vin, you and JD," he smiled as the youngest member of the seven returned. "Take his shoulders. Chris," he waited for the eyes to meet his again. "I'm gonna lean you forward so's Vin can move out from under you. Okay?"
"O...okay," was the simple reply.
Jackson ignored the muted moans as he gently pulled the gunslinger forward. As soon as the sharpshooter was down and rubbed the feeling back into his legs, they moved. Five men lifted the injured man and carried him into the house. The look on Larabee's face was one of misery; the other five faces showed the mental discipline needed to ignore their friend's pain.
"C...can't...please...God...N...Nathan, stop," he begged as the pain threatened to throw him into a dark abyss, one filled with nightmares of his ordeal.
"Almost there, Stud," Wilmington soothed.
"N...no, B...Buck, s...stop. C...can't b...breathe," he gasped.
"Nathan?" Tanner asked as the wheezing grew more pronounced and the cries weaker.
"Hurry," Jackson ordered. They moved into the small bedroom and eased the gunslinger onto the bed. "Ezra, get me as many pillows as you can find. Vin, keep him in a sitting position until we got enough pillows. Buck, bring me the water you got boiled," the former slave ordered as he reached for his saddlebags. He pulled a small brown paper wrapped package from inside. "JD put about two teaspoons of this in a cup of hot water and let it steep real well. Bring it in here when you're done." Jackson didn't wait for the others to comment as he moved back to the injured man. "Chris, I got to work on these wounds. I can't give you anymore Laudanum right now. JD's steeping one of my teas for you. It'll help with the pain."
"O...okay...h...have w...water?"
"Sure you can have water," Jackson smiled. He turned as the gambler entered the room, his arms loaded with pillows. "Ezra, can you bring Chris a glass of water?"
"Immediately, Mr. Jackson," Standish handed the healer the pillows and left the room.
"Alright, Vin, keep him up until I get these behind him," the former slave ordered.
Tanner held the injured man through it all, feeling as if his soul was being wrenched from his heart as he listened to the weakening protests. He breathed a sigh of relief as Jackson helped him ease Larabee onto the soft pillows.
Jackson turned as Wilmington entered carrying a large basin of water. "What else do you need, Nathan?"
"Towels, sheets, anythin' I can use to clean the wounds and bandage them after I'm done."
"You got it," the ladies man hurried from the room, passing the conman as he did.
"Mr. Jackson, here's the water you requested."
"Thanks, Ez," he took the offered glass and touched the blond's shoulder gently. "I have some water here for you."
Larabee accepted the cool liquid, his parched throat crying out in gratitude. All too soon the glass was removed. "M...more," he mumbled pitifully.
"Not yet, Chris. We don't want you getting sick right now."
"Nate, I got the tea ready."
"Put it on the table until it cools down some, JD. Vin, we need to get these wounds cleaned up. Can you take care of his legs?"
The sharpshooter nodded and accepted the cloth from the healer. Together they bathed every inch of Larabee's body, uncovering new cuts and bruises as they went. Some of the cuts seemed to have been cauterized and Vin knew this was done to inflict more pain and fear into his friend.
Wilmington came into the room carrying every towel he could find. He carefully avoided looking at the battered body, afraid he'd let the anger erupt in an open display of violence. "What else do you need, Nate?" he asked.
"You, Ezra and JD see if you can rustle up something to eat. Maybe make a broth for Chris," he knew his orders were being carried out without question. When it came to healing and medical problems these men automatically gave over control to him. More often than not he wondered what he'd done to deserve their faith in his inadequate abilities. Shaking away his negative thoughts he turned back to his patient, amazed to see the eyes were partially open, but filled with pain. He reached for the cup of herbal tea and held it to the gunslinger's cracked, swollen lips.
Chris swallowed the bitter brew without tasting it. All he knew was it was wet and eased the arid feeling in his mouth and throat. He drank as much as Jackson would allow, knowing the other man was far from finished with his work. He knew he was hurt, knew how bad things were gonna get, but he realized he now had good reasons to go on living. Revenge for the murder of his wife and son no longer took precedence, although he'd never quit searching. Living was his priority right now. These men were not ready to let him go and he wasn't ready to give up the new reasons he had for facing life again and all it had to offer. "T...thanks f...for c...coming..." he whispered as his eyes closed and he slipped towards sleep.
"He's sleeping, Vin. That's the best thing for him right now. I want to stitch up the wounds on his chest and thigh. I want you to keep washing him down. If that fever goes any higher we might end up with convulsions and I don't think he's strong enough for that."
"Alright, Nathan," Tanner left the room with the dirtied water, returning a few minutes later with cool clean water. He placed the basin on the table and silently bathed the bruised face. He watched as the healer's sharp needle bit into the tender flesh on the gunslinger's taut chest. 'Dammit, Chris, I wish there was some way to turn back time,' he thought.
Jackson watched the younger man's troubled face. He knew Vin was thinking about the damage Maguire inflicted on the gunslinger. "He's got a real good chance now, Vin. We just have to get his fever down and make sure no more infections set in."
Tanner nodded once and the two men worked together to care for the injured man. They carefully cleaned each wound, no matter how small, knowing any infection could kill their friend without warning.
Nathan worried about the heavy wheezing. He knew the signs of pneumonia and worried that he didn't have the things he needed to treat it. He stood up from the bed and stretched tense muscles. He frowned as he noted the labored breathing and the heavy creases of pain in his friend's forehead even while he slept. The willow bark tea he'd managed to get into him would help with the fever, but he needed to do more. He needed to find a way to ease some of the congestion and make his patient breathe a little easier. "Vin."
Tanner looked up and saw his own worry mirrored on the face of the healer. "Yeah."
"I'm gonna see if there's anything I can use to ease his breathing," Jackson explained.
"He's got pneumonia don't he?"
Jackson nodded, "Maybe, I'm just not sure, Vin. That's why I can't give him any more Laudanum. It affects the breathing and right now Chris is having enough trouble getting air into his lungs. I'm gonna make up some sassafras tea and maybe some of that peppermint as well. I wanna see if we can head it off before it becomes full blown. Will you stay with him till I get back?"
Tanner simply nodded and turned back to the job at hand. He used the water to continue wiping down his friend. The cuts, bruises, and breathing scared Tanner more than he admitted. This man was a part of what made them a team, but he was more than that. From the moment their eyes met the first day in Four Corners he'd felt a connection with Chris Larabee. That connection was strained at times, but now it felt as if it was about to be snapped. He struggled to hold onto the man before him, knowing to lose him now would be akin to losing a part of himself he'd only just rediscovered. The part that knew what it meant to have a family he cared about.
Chris knew what it felt like to be in misery. He remembered the pain as Maguire placed the burning blade against his abdomen. He gritted his teeth as he felt something wet against his heated flesh. He felt a ripple of energy pass through him as bare skin touched bare skin. He opened his eyes and saw a rough hand on his forehead. He knew instinctively that this man was not going to hurt him, in spite of the pain he was feeling. His eyes moved from the hand to the body it belonged too, finally coming to rest on the blue eyes of the tracker. "V...Vin."
"Hey, Cowboy," Tanner drawled. "Thought ya were sleepin'."
"I was. J...just n...needed to k...know you w...were all real. T...thought it w...was a d...dream."
Larabee's breathing grew worse and Tanner helped him sit forward even more. The soft painful moans tore at his heart, wrapping him in a cloak of his own pain. He wondered if there was something he could've done to prevent the pain Maguire inflicted on this man he thought of as brother.
"Easy does it, Chris, I got ya."
"C...chest h...hurts, V...Vin," Larabee rasped.
"I know it does. Nate's makin' ya somethin' ta help ya out right now," the sharpshooter assured him as he leaned him back against the pillows.
"N...Nate's h...horse p...piss h...helps," Larabee admitted.
"Yeah," the tracker grinned. "We jest can't tell 'im that. He'll have us drinkin' it if'n we sneezed."
"W...won't say a w...word," he groaned as another wave of pain washed over his body; he coughed and felt something come up in his throat. He spit it into the cloth Tanner held before him.
The tortured coughing continued as Nathan Jackson came into the room. He placed the steaming tea on the table and knelt beside the bed. "That's it, Chris. Keep coughing and spitting that shit out." He watched as the blond head slowly turned towards him, fear and pain evident in the green eyes. "I know it hurts, Chris, but you need to get as much of this crud up as possible. That's why you're having trouble breathing. That stuff coats your lungs and it makes it hard to get any air in," the healer explained as he gently rubbed the injured man's shoulders. He knew this wasn't only hard on Chris, but also on the men watching. He didn't have time to reassure the three men who stepped into the room and watched their friend's misery.
Buck watched from the short distance, the harsh coughing hard for him to hear. He knew his friend either had pneumonia or was pretty close to it. He trusted the dark skinned healer, but hated when they had to rely on him in this way. It meant someone was suffering and usually that suffering transferred to the kind-hearted former slave. The man was strong, and that strength lay in his healing abilities. He'd seen Nathan Jackson cry the day his father testified. He'd seen him weep when one of them was injured and he felt inadequate. Buck knew there was a long painful journey ahead, not just for Chris Larabee, but for Nathan Jackson as well. He knew Jackson wouldn't complain about the long hours he would be forced to put in. The man was a giant among men when it came to his patients. Especially when one of his friends suffered unbearable atrocities such as those heaped on the pale blond. "God damn you, Maguire," he hissed as he watched his friend's continued struggle.
Chris felt the air reaching his lungs and sighed painfully. "T...thanks," he muttered as the healer placed him back on the pillows once more. "S...so t...tired," he told them.
"I got some things I need you to drink, Chris. Then we'll let you go to sleep."
Larabee forced a smile to his bruised, swollen lips and fought to keep his eyes open. His chest and ribs cried out for relief, overshadowing the pain from the other injuries. "H...horse p...piss," he whispered, trying to ease some of the pain he saw in the five pairs of eyes studying him.
"T...that's right, Chris," Jackson's voice hitched as he forced the pain from his mind. He reached for the cup of Sassafras tea and eased it to the gunslinger's mouth. It took a very long fifteen minutes for Larabee to drink the tea. Nathan reached for a second cup, this one held more of the willow bark tea to ease the fever burning through the man's body. "Just two more, Chris."
"S...sleep..." Larabee muttered.
"As soon as you get this down, Cowboy," Tanner assured him. "Come on now, open up and drink it." Larabee did as he was told, too weak to fight any longer. He finished the second cup, feeling the draw of sleep as a cup of cold water was placed before him. By the time he took the third sip he was sleeping in the crook of Vin Tanner's arm. The harsh breathing the only sound in the strange room.
Vin held his friend close, knowing it would take all their strength combined to bring him through this trauma. His own strength seemed to have deserted him in the wake of Larabee's surrender to unconsciousness. He sighed heavily, and tried to ease the ache in his own body. His arms felt leaden, but there was no way he would give in to the sea of fatigue. He knew one of the others could hold the lean form, but he couldn't give up his hold right now. He needed to feel the life that still breathed in the battered form, to know he wasn't going to leave them. He lifted his head and met the pained eyes of the healer. "He's hurtin' pretty bad, Nate."
"I know he is, Vin. The willow bark tea should help," Jackson told him and turned to include the other men in his conversation. "Chris is gonna need a lot of help from us."
Taking a trembling step towards the bed, Wilmington asked, "What do you want us to do?"
"I need you all to eat something and get some sleep," Jackson ordered.
"But..." Dunne stammered.
"No, buts, JD. Right now I have enough to do looking after Chris. I don't have time to worry about whether or not you guys are gonna collapse because you're ignoring your own needs." The healer turned so his eyes fell on the tracker. "That goes for you too, Vin. You get some rest because he's gonna need you when he wakes up."
"I'm alright, Nathan," Tanner whispered softly, barely able to lift his own set of tired eyes.
Jackson knew the energy it took for Vin to hold this man. A man he let inside his heart in spite of everything he'd been through. He could see it in the younger man's eyes, could tell this was tearing him up inside. The dark circles under those windows to his soul gave mute testament to the lack of sleep the man got over the last few days since Larabee's disappearance. Jackson sighed heavily as he looked down at his patient. 'Few days. How could he have done this in a few days?' he thought. "Vin, look, I don't have time to argue right now. I'm gonna need all of you to help me out."
"Mr. Jackson, you're the one Mr. Larabee will need when he wakes up. It's you that's in need of rest," Standish observed.
The former slave knew the conman was right. Now that Larabee's wounds were tended to the best of his abilities, the healer felt the bone weary tiredness seeping into his body. He glanced at each man, wondering how long it was since any of them had a good night's sleep. "I can't..."
"Nathan, you have too," Wilmington interrupted. "I'll stay with Chris. The rest of you get some rest." He held up his hands at the sounds of protest from each man. "Look, I'm not gonna argue with any of you. I've been with Chris a lot of years, known him longer than any of you." He turned to the sharpshooter and spoke softly but with an inner strength the others could sense. "You got him this far, Vin. Now it's time to let one of us help out." He looked at each man, the pain evident on his face as he spoke. "I need to do this. Not just for Chris, but for me. I need to know that he still trusts me to watch his back as well," as he said these words his eyes met the tracker's and a silent signal passed between them.
Jackson looked around the room and knew they'd relinquished their leader to the ladies man. They'd rest knowing he was in capable hands. He stood up and placed his hand on the pale forehead. He hated the heat emanating from the injured man, knowing it was taking a toll on the blond. "Alright, Buck, you stay with him. Make sure you keep wiping him down. I'm gonna make up some more teas and I want you to make sure you get him to drink as much as you can when he wakes up. We gotta make sure he's drinking 'cause if we don't that fever's gonna keep sapping his strength. I'll bring in water as well. You come get me if he needs anything. Did you eat?" he asked at the last minute.
"Not yet. We found some bread and preserves in the pantry. Made some sandwiches," Wilmington answered.
"I'll bring you a plate, Buck," Dunne offered and hurried out before the others could answer.
Standish watched the youngest member of the team. He knew the kid was tormented by what he'd seen over the last day. He wondered if the young man would ever be able to put it in prospective. He vowed to listen if he needed or wanted to talk. He sighed heavily as he looked at the pale form on the bed. With a shake of his head he realized the young easterner wasn't the only one affected by the last twenty-four hours. A demon, in the form of a man, had come into their lives and nearly taken one of their own. 'He will not take you, Chris,' he silently vowed.
"Vin, you need to ease back a bit while I put another pillow under him," Jackson ordered.
Tanner looked down at the man he held, knowing he had such a tenuous hold on life right now. He nodded to the healer and moved back, easing the gunslinger up slightly as the healer placed another firm cushion behind the injured man. Vin stood away from the bed, his legs shaky, his back tense as he gazed on the bruised face. Even in sleep he could see the lines of pain as the gunslinger was lifted slightly forward. A hand on his shoulder forced his gaze away from the blond, and he looked into another familiar pair of green eyes.
"Mr. Larabee will again be the pillar of strength we know him to be, Mr. Tanner," the conman assured him.
"Thanks, Ez," he said, the two words conveying how much he appreciated the gesture. He knew this was hard on them all. The stoic gambler, who hid behind formality, wore his emotions on his face. He didn't even try to hide behind the formidable poker face he was renowned for. A slight tremor of the man's hand on his shoulder told the sharpshooter just how much this affected him.
Wilmington pulled a chair up to the bed and sat down. He reached for the cloth and wrung the water from it, silently washing the fevered brow.
"Hell, Chris, You gotta keep on fighting,"he whispered, his hand trembling slightly. The labored breathing scared him, he'd heard it too often in the prison camps, a sure sign that death loomed within striking distance. He remembered watching helplessly as men succumbed to their illnesses. 'This is one time death won't win,' he silently vowed.
"Buck, come get me if he needs anything," Jackson repeated as Dunne came into the room with a sandwich and coffee for the moustached man.
"I will, Nathan," the ladies man promised as he took the food from the younger man.
"Alright, the rest of you follow me," the healer ordered and led the three men from the room.
"Jesus, Chris, he really did a job on you," Wilmington whispered when the others left. He looked at the sandwich and coffee, unsure if his stomach could handle it. Unconsciously his hand moved to the plate and before he realized what he was doing the small meal was gone. He reached for the cloth once more and continued to bathe the fevered body on the bed, carefully avoiding the bandaged areas.
TBC