Kiss of Death----5
Buck sighed contentedly and wished they could stay by the creek, but there seemed to be a storm brewing. He watched the woman as she packed the remnants of their picnic lunch back into the hamper while he folded the blanket and tucked it in on top of the plates and cutlery.
"Think maybe we'd best get a move on," Wilmington said as he placed the hamper in the back of the buggy.
"Why, Buck, are you afraid of getting wet?"
"Now, Darlin', that's something I've never been afraid of especially when in the company of a beautiful woman."
"Careful, Buck, I might think you're a ladies' man with a woman in every creek," Angela whispered coyly.
"Only one woman and one creek I want, Angela," Wilmington said seriously as he helped her into the seat and climbed up beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and took the reins as they started back towards the ranch.
"Buck, thank you so much for today."
"I think I should be the one thanking you, Angela. If you hadn't suggested a picnic I probably would've ridden into town to find Chris."
"Do you think he's back yet?"
"I don't know. Chris, well he can get kind of broody, but he's a great friend, you know?"
"What is it about Chris that makes you take up for him so much?"
"I don't know, Darlin', but see me and Chris have always been close, even when he pushed me away I knew he didn't mean it. We just naturally seem to find each other when the time's right. Like what happened in Four Corners."
"That town you live in?"
"That's right. See, I was there just passing through and havin' a little fun with Blossom…"
"Blossom?" Angela asked, frowning at the man beside her.
"Yeah, pretty woman, but she don't hold a candle to you. Well anyway, I was with her when I sort of fell out of the window…"
"Out of a window?" Tate asked, jealousy evident in her tone.
"Well, yeah, Blossom's husband was banging on the door only it wasn't him. It was a man named Vin Tanner from Texas…never met a finer tracker. The man could track a polar bear through a blizzard and never lose his tracks."
"Sounds like you admire Vin Tanner."
"I do, anyway, Chris was there and offered me a job…didn't pay much, but I couldn't say no to him. Ended up with seven of us goin' against Anderson and his Ghosts of the Confederacy. When we got back to Four Corners Judge Travis offered us the job of keeping the peace in the town and we've been there ever since. The rest of us turned to Chris and sort of made him the man in charge, whether he realizes it or not. Chris is just a natural born leader and has the instincts to go with it. Only problem is those instincts don't always kick in. He's ignored them a few times and it usually ends up with him being hurt."
"Buck, do you think he'll be okay with our getting married?"
"Oh, I think so, especially since he's gonna be my best man," Wilmington told her as the first drops of rain fell on them. "Looks like you were right about getting wet, Darlin'."
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Ethan Turner heard the approaching buggy and pulled deeper into the thicket to await their passing. He recognized the woman, but had never seen the other man before. Rosemary had told him Angela Tate was going to be married and that her beau was staying at her place and he had to bite his lip from laughing as the buggy went past. He jumped as a sound escaped his captive's throat and quickly ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt. Without dismounting, Ethan reached for the rain soaked blond head and quickly tied the material around the man's mouth. He lifted Larabee's head and smiled as another groan escaped the injured man.
"Don't worry, Larabee, Miss Rosemary'll fix ya right up. Ya just gotta be quiet a little longer!" Turner gripped the reins and hurried the horses along as the rain began to fall at a steady pace.
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Buck frowned as he passed a thick copse of trees and tried to see what had caught his attention, but whatever was out there lost its curious aspect as the skies opened up. The deluge that had threatened manifested itself as lightening flashed across the sky and the deafening crescendo of thunder shook their surroundings.
"Damn!" Wilmington cursed as he kept his hands tightly controlling the reins of the nervous horses, the movement behind him quickly forgotten as the torrential rain soaked them to the skin in less than five seconds.
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The rain roused the injured man and he tried to lift his head, but succeeded only in setting off an explosion inside his skull. He shifted, and groaned as his body erupted in an agony that left him no doubt that he was in trouble. Opening his eyes, Chris tried to keep the rain from his eyes, but it was a lesson in futility. The water poured down over his body and his hair stuck to his forehead making it hard to see anything. His arms and legs were tied to Pony's saddle and he could barely make out a second horse in front of him.
'What the hell?' Larabee thought and realized there was something wrapped tightly across his mouth and keeping him from making a sound. He frowned, wincing as the movement pulled on the gash on his forehead and tried to make sense of where he was and why he was in this position. The last thing he remembered was having a drink with Evan Rawlings, but everything after that was a blur of unconnected memories. He thought he'd ridden out of town, but couldn't even be sure of that, as the pounding in his head grew worse. He couldn't think, not with the rippling agony in his left side that sent shooting fires up through his nerves and twisted his gut in a churning sea of bile. Again and again he swallowed, praying that he wouldn't vomit and choke because of the cloth.
'Don't be sick…don't be sick…don't be sick,' he repeated as they rode through the violent storm. Consciousness quickly left him as each jarring impact of Pony's hoofs with the ground sent daggers through his side and leg.
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Rosemary pulled to a stop in front of her friend's house and quickly dismounted. The storm had grown worse, but she knew she had to tell her friend what had happened. She hurried up the steps and onto the porch before entering the house. Wanting to keep her news from everyone, but her friend she smiled as Carmon came towards her. The woman had always been afraid of her and she loved watching her shy away whenever she was in the room.
"Is Angela home?" Cameron's head shook quickly before she headed back to the kitchen. Shaking the rain from her hair Rosemary walked towards the guest bedroom where she kept several articles of clothing. Angela also kept clothing at her place in case they were caught in weather like this.
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Buck drew the buggy to a stop in front of the house and handed the reins to Manual before helping his sodden fiancé out of her seat. He wrapped his arms around her as they ran up the steps and onto the porch as a thin streak of lightning struck the hundred-foot tree on the edge of the front yard.
"This is one hell of a storm!"
"Yes, it is. I haven't seen one like this since I came home."
"Looks like you got company," Wilmington said nodding at the woman walking towards them.
"Rosemary, how nice of you to come," Angela said as the woman joined them.
"I was on my way home and got caught in the storm. I didn't know you had company."
"Rosemary Clark, this is Buck Wilmington…"
"Buck Wilmington as in the best looking stud this side of the ocean," Rosemary said and smiled at the mustached man.
"Well, hell, thank you, Ma'am," the ladies' man said of the bold woman standing before him.
"This certainly is a pleasure and Angela, you were absolutely right. He is indeed a handsome man," Clark said.
"I know, and it's a good thing you're already married or I might be more than a little jealous of the way you're looking at my fiancé," Angela told her friend.
"Yes, well, I believe you should both get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of cold."
"Buck, I'll ask Carmon to make some coffee while you change," Angela said and smiled as the gentle rogue kissed her firmly on the lips before heading for the room they shared. Once he disappeared she turned her attention to her friend. "What's going on, Rosie?"
"I need to speak to you privately! Get changed and I'll meet you in the parlor. Just make sure your beau is not within earshot!"
"All right. Just give me a few minutes to change." Angela hurried away from her friend and quickly spoke to Carmon before heading for her bedroom.
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Ethan Turner drew the horses to a halt in front of the line shack, quickly dismounted, and threw the reins over the hitching rail. The ground was slippery and he landed hard on his back as he fell to the muddy ground. Cursing his luck he made it to his feet and walked the few feet to the shack. Shoving open the door, he quickly looked around the interior and was glad the Clark's kept the shack well stocked. Making sure the door would stay open he turned back to the storm swept landscape and the captive tied to the horse. Reaching down he grabbed hold of Larabee's drenched hair and lifted his head until they were nose to nose. The green eyes blinked rapidly and a sharp cry escaped the slack lips.
"All right, Larabee, here's the deal! I can leave ya tied ta yer horse while I go inside outta the rain or I can release ya and we get ya inside. Ya fight me and I swear I'll teach ya a lesson ya won't soon forget. Now ya just stay put until I cut ya loose!" Turner warned and pulled a knife from his scabbard. He cut the ropes holding his prisoner to the saddle and dumped him unceremoniously into the mud.
As his body impacted the slick ground, Chris Larabee knew he was in the hands of a sadist who didn't give a damn how much pain he caused. The gunfighter tried to come to his feet, but a kick to his right leg sent him back to the ground where he curled into a tight ball in an effort to deflect the vicious kick sent towards his midsection.
"Told ya not ta try anything. Now, I'm gonna get ya on yer feet and we'll get us both inside outta this rain. Ya fight me and I'd just as soon tie ya out here in the rain until the fight's washed outta ya! Ya got that?" Turner asked and pulled the cloth from around his captive's mouth.
"…fuck you!"
"Ain't gonna take no time for yer shit, Larabee, and it's time ya realized I'm in charge here. Now get on yer feet and get inside!"
Chris knew he was in no shape to fight his captor, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Forcing his shaking legs underneath him he managed to get on his feet, but his right leg was in no shape to hold him and he found himself on his knees again. He felt the man grab his arms and was soon forced to his feet and shoved through the open door.
"All right, Larabee, now here's what we're gonna do! Yer gonna get outta them filthy clothes and I'm gonna fix ya a nice bed on the floor until Miss Rosemary gets out here. Ain't much chance of that happenin' in the next couple of hours."
"Go t…to hell!"
"Suit yerself, Larabee, but I was figurin' you were a smart man and well if ya just want to sit there in those dirty, wet clothes and let them two bullet wounds get infected then that's just fine by me, but," he looked at the blond and smiled. "If Miss Rosemary sees yer legs infected she just might decide ta cut the damn thing off. She'd do it right fine too…saw it a couple of times. So, what's it gonna be?"
Chris glared at the other man for several long seconds before reluctantly giving in. Right now he felt weaker than a newborn calf and he knew part of the dizziness was caused by blood loss and pain. With dogged determination, Chris forced himself to stand and leaned heavily against the wall. The pain was a constant now and mixed with his anger became a volatile explosion waiting to happen.
"Ain't much ta ya is there?"
"Put down the gun and I'll show you!" Larabee warned and wondered at the strength he saw in the other man's eyes.
"No…no, I don't think that's a wise idea right now. Ain't gonna take a chance on Miss Rosemary being angry at me. So, here's what we're gonna do. First, get outta them wet clothes like I told ya to. Then ya'll step outside and wash the mud off ya and then I got me a set of manacles just made for yer wrists and ankles. Once I got ya fitted with them ya can rest…if yer real good I might even give ya some water and beans."
"All heart!" Larabee sneered, but understood he had little choice, but to obey while Turner held the gun.
"Ain't I though," Turner said, grinning as Larabee began removing his bloodied clothing from his body.
Chris bit his lip as he tried to ride out the pain running rampant in his body, but he wasn't entirely successful in keeping it to himself. Turner's laughter grated on his nerves as Chris removed his boots and socks and cried out as his right foot hit the floor and took the brunt of his weight.
"All right, looks like yer ready! Get on outside and wash that shit off. I'll be watching ya the whole time!"
Chris braced his left arm tight against the wound in his side as he limped towards the door. His head was pounding again and he knew he was probably suffering the effects of a concussion along with the other injuries he'd incurred in his meeting with this man. Once outside the rain seemed to revitalize his spirit and anger drove him to turn on his captor, but the gun in the man's hand was trained at his gut and he knew there was only one way this fight could end.
"Smart man, Larabee," Turner said as he watched the gunfighter move out into the rain.
Chris stood in the torrential downpour as biting needles of rain struck his bare skin. The water washed away the dirt and blood and cooled his body until he stood shivering in front of the door. Turner motioned for him to step inside and Chris noted he always stood just out of his reach. Larabee was surprised when the man pointed to a rough but clean piece of material on the table and quickly dried off. Standing in nothing but his drawers he stared at his nemesis and wished he wore long johns like Buck Wilmington, but he'd always hated the way they seemed to hold his body captive.
"All right, Larabee. If you look at the table you'll see a pair of manacles. Ya take one and wrap it around your right wrist and the other one ya fasten to the hook in the floor in the corner. Come on now get a move on 'cause I'd just as soon put ya down myself!"
Chris seethed inwardly, but felt his energy giving out as he picked up the manacles and placed one around his wrist and walked to the corner where he fastened the second manacle.
"Very good," Turner sneered and threw the second set of manacles at the injured blond. "These go around your ankles."
Again Chris' anger flared, but there was so much pain in his body that he could do little more than glare at his hated foe. He quickly placed the cuffs around his ankle and found the room spinning as his vision blurred. The room took on a decidedly slanted look as the blond' body sagged towards the mattress in the corner. Heavy lids closed over dangerously unfocused green eyes as Larabee gave into the cloying darkness of unconsciousness.
"Ya ain't so tough!" Turner said as he threw a blanket haphazardly over the injured prisoner. Turning away from his prisoner, Ethan whistled as he placed the gun on the table out of Larabee's reach and walked out into the rain to wash away the dirt encrusting his own clothing.
TBC