Kiss of Death----7

The sun had reached its zenith as Rosemary Clark drew her horse to a halt outside the line shack. Chris Larabee was not the first unwilling guest to be held here and he probably would not be the last. She grabbed the saddlebags just as the door opened and Ethan Turner stepped out.

"Thought I heard someone ride up."

"How is Larabee?"

"He's a mess. Think he's probably gettin' a fever too."

"That's to be expected. Did you clean him up last night?" Clark asked as she handed the heavy saddlebags to her cohort.

"Sure did…made him strip down to his drawers and stand in the rain. Cleaned him up real good."

"I'm sure," Clark said, smiling as she stepped through the door. Larabee was lying on his back in one corner of the room and she could see Turner had managed to get him restrained in that position. She quickly knelt beside him and felt for a pulse at his neck. Her early years had been spent working in a hospital in St Louis and now she was using much of what she'd learned there. Pulling back the blanket she winced at the colorful bruises and contusions covering his upper body. Pressing against one especially deep bruise she felt the lean body flinch away from her touch.

"He's got one hell of a bruise on his back too. Musta hit it hard!"

"I'll check that after. Right now I need to take care of those bullet wounds. Get me some hot water and there's a bottle of whiskey in one of those saddlebags."

"Good, I'm thirsty!"

"The whiskey's not for you…at least not yet. I need to clean out the wounds and I only have a little carbolic with me. I have Laudanum and we'll use that to keep him controllable. Did he try anything?"

"Hell yeah, but he took the worst of it."

"Is that where this boot shaped bruise came from?"

"Had ta show 'im who's in charge. Took the lesson pretty hard though," Turner said with a wry grin.

"Get my things, Ethan, and from now on you leave Larabee alone unless I tell you otherwise!" Clark warned and knew the man would do as she ordered. She heard Turner move away and watched as Larabee fought to return to consciousness. Even with the bruises and swelling she still thought he was a handsome man and she ran her fingers along his jaw. His hands clenched tightly as he fought the restraints and Rosemary was glad he couldn't move. The eyelids finally fluttered open and the sea green eyes glared dangerously at her.

"W…what the h…hell is this?" He gasped as she touched his wounded leg.

"You should have kept your nose out of our business, Chris. It would've been so much simpler if you had."

"Y…you're the…that woman from t…the hotel!"

"That's right and I don't think you'll be getting an answer to your telegram I'm afraid!"

"You B…bitch! Let me out of these!"

"I'm afraid that's out of the question. Right now I'm going to remove the bullets from your side and leg and I think you'll be happy you're restrained when I start digging around in there. The leg's not so bad, but well that side is another story altogether. The way I see it you should be grateful that I have received some medical training, although it has been a while since I've had to remove bullets."

"D...don't touch me!"

"I don't think you're in any position to stop me. Ah, Ethan, put the saddlebags on the table and pour some hot water into the bowl. Oh add a little carbolic and then I want you to clean the area surrounding the wounds. I'll be back as soon as I have my instruments ready!"

Chris watched her stand with a mixture of trepidation and fear, but he didn't let it show on his face as Turner came towards him. The man's face was filled with malicious glee as he set the basin down beside the makeshift bed.

'Get a…way from me!" Larabee ground out, but knew there was nothing he could do to stop Turner or the woman. He tried to shift away, but the other man clamped down on his leg and Chris fought to keep from crying out as Turner lifted a cloth from the water and carbolic mixture and placed it against the bullet wound. The liquid burned like molten lava and Chris bucked against the ropes and manacles holding him to the floor.

"That gotcher attention!" Turner spat and smiled as he scrubbed Larabee's right thigh.

"S…sick fuckin' bastard!" Larabee groaned as the woman knelt opposite Turner. Chris saw her place several instruments to her left before she looked at him.

"Now, I can do this and let you scream or I can give you some Laudanum and it should ease the pain. Your choice!"

"Don't d…do me a…any fuckin' favors!" Larabee snarled.

"Suit yourself. Ethan, are you done there?"

"Think so," Turner said and lifted the blood soaked cloth. "Damn, I made it bleed again."

"Clean the one on his side while I see to this one!"

"Leave it!" the blond ordered, but the weakness of his voice had no effect on his tormentors.

"I can't have you dying on us just yet, Chris. You see we need to make sure Buck thinks you went back to Four Corners and once we're sure of that then I'll find a way to dispose of you!"

"Buck won't b…believe you!"

"Oh, I think he will, especially once I show him the telegram you received. You couldn't stay long enough to tell him and you left a message with me to give to Buck."

"W…won't believe…"

"Sure he will, but right now I don't have time to argue with you. It's time to do this!"

Chris groaned as he felt the scalpel press against the wound in his leg. He bit his bottom lip, drawing blood even as Turner roughly cleaned the wound in his side. The gunfighter had been hurt before…been shot, beaten, stabbed and any number of other wounds, but he couldn't remember ever hurting like this. It felt as if the woman was using an ax to tear open his flesh and pull out the smashed piece of lead and there was nothing he could do to stop her or the man grinding a wet cloth against his ravaged flesh. He fought the excruciating touch and gasped in relief as he heard the sound of a bullet hit the basin.

"That's the easy one!" Clark said and smiled as Chris Larabee's rasping curse reached her ears. "So, you're still with me! I've never had a man stay awake through an extraction like that."

"Bet he won't like the next one none!" Turner said with a grin as he shifted out of the woman's way.

"Would you like to reconsider the Laudanum, Chris?"

"G…go to h…hell…Ahhhh!" the cry of pain escaped from his throat as the blade was pressed against his side. He thought he knew what pain was, but never before could he remember it being so maliciously enjoyed. He heard Turner's cackling laughter as he fought against the restraints. His breathing became labored as the woman drove the scalpel deeper into his ravaged skin. He felt the edges of darkness begin to spread across his vision as his eyes dropped closed and he gave in to his body's need for relief.

"Looks like ya were too much for him, Miss Rosemary," Turner explained as Larabee went limp under her touch. He heard the woman curse as she continued to probe for the bullet and again wondered why they were even bothering. Sooner or later Chris Larabee was going to die anyway, so why prolong his life. He looked at the woman as she concentrated on the task at hand and was glad he wasn't the one under her touch.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

Buck watched as Angela Tate moved slightly on the bed he'd shared with her since arriving. The woman's face was still unmarked by the passing of years, yet there was something about her that struck him as deadly. Shaking his head he pushed back this new train of thought as her eyelids flickered and finally lifted revealing green eyes.

"B…Buck?"

"I'm right here, Darlin', how do you feel?"

"My head hurts."

"I know…doc's on the way."

"Doc? Why?" Angela forced the words through her throat and kept up the pretense that she really was in pain. She knew Wilmington well enough to know he would stay beside her if he thought something was truly wrong and right now she needed him by her side.

"You hit your head, Angela," Wilmington said as he brushed the hair back from her face.

"I…I did?"

"Yeah, had me worried."

"D…don't be," Tate said and reached for his hand.

"Easier said than done when the woman I love and intend to marry is hurtin'," Wilmington said as the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears. He turned to see an older man with silver streaked black hair enter the room.

"Hello, I'm Doc Morton. How'd this happen?" the physician asked as he looked at the vivid bruise on the woman's face.

"She fell and hit her head," the worried rogue explained as he continued to hold the woman's hand in his own.

"Angela, are you hurt anywhere else?" Richard Morton asked.

"No, just my head," the woman said and closed her eyes against the bright light seeping through the window.

"Who are you?" Morton asked.

"Buck Wilmington. Angela and me are getting married!"

"Is that right?"

"Yes, we are," Tate said.

"Well, congratulations. Now Mr. Wilmington…"

"Buck!"

"Buck, please close those curtains so the sunlight doesn't cause more pain than she's already in," the doctor ordered. "Now, Angela, let's take a look at you!"

Angela kept her eyes closed and moaned when the doctor probed the swollen area. It was tender, but she knew how to play it up and heard the concern in Wilmington's voice as he returned to her side and asked about her condition. She opened her eyes slightly and squinted at the two men before letting her gaze come to rest on her fiancé.

"Buck, I'm fine. Just a headache."

"A big one from the sounds of it," Morton said as he sat back in the chair and reached for a packet of powder in his bag. He turned to the other man and handed him the medicine. "Make sure Carmon mixes this. She knows the proportions and how often Angela can have it."

"I don't need…"

"Hush up now, Darlin', Doc says you need it then you're gonna take it," Wilmington chastised lightly.

"Well, I can see you're in good hands so I'll leave you to it. Buck, make sure she stays in bed for at least twenty-four hours. Don't let her fool you into letting her up!"

"I won't, Doc."

Angela smiled inwardly as she watched the two men walk towards the door. Morton had ordered twenty-four hours of bed rest and she now had the means to keep Wilmington from riding into Midfield in search of Chris Larabee. She hoped it was enough time for Rosemary Clark to put their plan in motion. If not she had a hostage and would use him to keep her lover in line. She quickly lost the smile as her fiancé returned to her side and reached for her hand.

"Carmon's mixing some of the powder for you, Darlin'."

"I don't really need it, but if it'll make you feel better I'll drink it," Tate explained as she looked into worried blue eyes.

"You always did worry about others before yourself," Wilmington said and kissed her cheek.

"Buck, I know you're worried about, Chris. I'm fine and Carmon will be here so why don't you ride into town with doc and find out where he is?"

"I'm not leaving you like this, Angela. Like you said, Chris is a big boy and can look after himself. You go ahead and sleep and I'll be here when you wake up."

"Hmm," Angela mumbled and closed her eyes as a thrill raced up and down her spine. She had this man where she wanted him and nothing was going to take him away from her. She remained quiet for several long minutes before opening her eyes and reaching for the handsome rogue. "Buck, lie down with me."

"I don't think…"

"Sh, trust me, please. I just need to feel your strong arms around me," Tate said as Carmon brought the powder mixture and placed it on the table before leaving without a word.

"You drink all of this and I'll lie down with you."

"Under the blankets?"

"I…I…"

"Please, Buck, I need to feel you near me," the woman cajoled and was glad when the ladies' man acquiesced. She drank the warm tea and watched as Wilmington removed his clothing and slid under the blankets. She moved closer to him and smiled as he placed his arm under his head as she maneuvered her body until she was spooned up against him. She felt his hand on her shoulder and gently eased it down to her breast before sighing contentedly. This was how her life should be; lying next to the man she loved, without any cares in the world.

"Angela?"

"Hmm," she mumbled as if half asleep.

"You know I love you."

"I know."

"Would you be willing to give all this up and move to Four Corners if I asked you too?"

"I'd go anywhere with you, Buck," Tate answered and fought to keep the irritation out of her voice. There was no way she would leave her home, and she would not allow Buck Wilmington to leave either. This was their destiny and she would see that he stayed at her side…willingly or not.

"That's good, Darlin', but we'll talk about it again when you're not hurt," the gentle rogue said and closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent of his lover, unaware of the anger that burned through her mind.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

Rosemary Clark looked down at the captive and knew he would be trouble if she allowed him any freedom. They'd moved him to the bed and she still heard Turner's angered grumbling, but knew the man would do anything she asked as long as she kept him supplied with funds. She ran her eyes over Larabee's battered body and knew she'd done all she could for now. The bullet she'd removed from his side had caused heavy bleeding and they would have to get him drinking before long or she would have to resort to a feeding tube to keep him hydrated. She'd inserted them before and knew of the dangers involved, but would use it if she had to. Her attention returned to the blond as she pulled the blanket up over him and sat in the chair next to the bed and watched his eyes open and fight to focus.

"So, you've decided to rejoin us. How do you feel?" She asked as she checked the bonds holding him to the bedposts.

"Get these fucking things off me!"

"I'm afraid that's not possible and if you don't start speaking in a respectable voice I'll have Ethan gag you once more."

"Bitch!"

"Ethan, would you bring me one of the strips of cloth?"

"Sure thing," Turner said and moved to the table.

"Fuckin' kill you!"

"I'm sure you'd like to try, but I'm afraid I can't give you an opportunity to see if you can do that. Now, are you going to keep a civil tongue in your head or do I have Ethan silence you?"

"Let me do it!" Turner said as he pressed against Larabee's wounded side.

"Ethan, control yourself and keep your hands off him unless I tell you! Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am, just don't 'preciate anyone bad mouthin' ya!"

"Thank you, Ethan, it's nice to know there are still gentlemen in this world. Now, Chris, there are a few things you need to understand before you answer my question about the gag. First, I need to keep you alive and am willing to do anything to keep you that way. Second, if keeping you alive means forcing a tube down your throat and feeding you that way I will do it. I don't really want to, but it's something that can easily be done, but is very uncomfortable for you. Third, there are several degrees to keeping you alive and not all of them are pleasant. I'm afraid Ethan is not as appreciative of good looking men as I am and I would be saddened if I allow him to mark such a handsome face before the swelling goes down. I have done an admirable job of putting stitches in your head and would not like to do so again. I know you think I'm cruel…"

"Cold bitch!" Larabee groaned as a hand clamped onto the wound on his right thigh and tried to twist out of her grasp, but succeeded only in awakening the monstrous pain throughout his body. "Fuckin' bitch!"

"That's it! Gag him, Ethan!"

"My pleasure, Ma'am!"

"D…don't fuckin' touch me!" Larabee ground out before a cloth was shoved brutally into his mouth and he was forced to breathe through his nose. His anger increased and he twisted his head back and forth as the woman placed a hand on each cheek and held him fast.

"Now that I have your undivided attention I'll say this once more and this time I want you to think about your friend Wilmington. Angela loves him very much and they are going to be married whether you like it or not!"

'No!' Chris' anger increased and he tried to breathe past the mounting waves of nausea. The woman's face was mere inches from his own and her scent assaulted his nostrils as he fought to control his anger and pain.

"You're alive right now because she doesn't want to hurt him, but if it comes down to it, Angela will use you to keep her fiancé in line. I'm sure Buck Wilmington would not appreciate one of your fingers as a warning! Do you?" Clark asked as she reached for the index finger on his left hand and bent it back.

Chris cried out behind the gag as he felt the digit break and knew the woman before him was a spawn of hell. She inflicted pain for the sake of seeing a man squirm and enjoyed the control she thought she had over him. He knew she would do anything to keep him in line and right now there was nothing much he could do to stop her. If he was going to get out of this alive, and right now the chance of that was very slim, he would have to play his cards differently and let her think she had control.

'Who the fuck are you trying to kid, Larabee? She does have control!' He thought as she released his hand and stared at him once more.

"I see I have your attention now, Chris. I do don't I?"

Larabee nodded and felt the room around him waver as the pain in his skull increased. His breathing was troubled as he tried to keep from being sick.

"Very well. Would you like me to remove the gag?" She smiled as he nodded slightly and reached for the gag.

Chris knew he was going to be sick and there was no way to move as his stomach gave up its meager contents and landed on the sheets around him and the woman's hands. He heard her curse, but didn't hear anything except a loud scream and finally understood it was coming from him as something slammed into his stomach and darkness reached out to enfold him in its welcoming arms.

TBC