Kiss of Death----11

Chris licked at dry lips and bit back a groan as pain flared through his body. He'd heard Turner moving around in the line shack, but kept his eyes closed in an effort to keep the other man from knowing he was awake. He heard the door open and the distinct sounds of horses and opened his eyes. The shack was deserted and lit only by a small kerosene lamp that sat on the small table. He didn't have time to search further as Turner entered and walked towards him.

"Glad ta see yer awake 'cause we got company."

"Who?" The blond asked as he looked beyond the man at the trio who entered the shack. "Buck!"

"C…Chris?" Wilmington's head shot up when he heard the rasping voice and his eyes sought out the source of the sound. He tried to pull away from the two women, but his hands were tied and the manacles secured to his feet allowed for very little movement.

"Not yet, Buck, there is still the matter of his punishment," Tate said as they steered Wilmington to a chair at the table.

Chris fought against his own bonds, but succeeded only in awakening the dormant pain in his side. He heard the two women telling Turner to make sure Wilmington could not get off the chair and cursed his own weakness as the trio successfully bound the gentle rogue in place.

"Angela, for God's sake he's already hurt too much. Don't do this to him!"

"I warned you, Buck! Now he is going to take the punishment and if you keep on with this behavior he will suffer the consequences." Tate said as she cupped his chin and kissed him long and hard.

"Leave him alone, Bitch!" Larabee spat, unaware of Turner moving to the opposite side of the bed.

"Watch that mouth of yours, Chris!" Rosemary warned as she looked at the two helpless men and smiled at the power she held in her hands.

"Now, Buck, sit still and enjoy the show," Tate said and sat on the rogue's legs. She knew he was still not quite focusing as the lingering effects of the sleeping draught made him weak.

"I'm begging you, Angela! I'll do anything you say, but don't let her do this!"

"She won't," Angela said and smiled at the relief that shone on Wilmington's face. "But he will. Ethan, break his left arm!"

Chris swallowed hard as the impact of her words struck home and the length of rope around his left arm was shortened until his arm was stretched above his head. He saw Turner smiling maliciously as he lifted a rifle and held it above his arm.

"What the fuck?" He cursed as the full impact of her words shot home and the barrel of the rifle was driven into his arm near his elbow. He felt and heard the bone snap and Chris thought he heard a scream echo his own as sickening nausea raced through his stomach. He fought the restraints, which only added to the screaming agony of bone grating against bone.

"You bitch! God, Chris, I'm so sorry!"

"I will let you get away with that one, Buck, because you're distraught, but be warned that I will not tolerate that language from you. Now I am going to give you five minutes alone with your friend, but you try anything and he will pay for it. Understood."

"Yes, but his arm…"

"Rosie will see to it as soon as you're done talking. Ethan, Rosie, come with me," Tate ordered and left the two men alone.

Chris' breath came in hitching gasps as he tried to breath past the bile rising like an ocean in his throat. There was no longer any sensation of one pain as it grew to an extreme where there was no way to distinguish what hurt worse. He heard someone calling his name and tried to speak, but again the pain was too much and he turned his head as his stomach gave up its meager contents.

"Chris, Chris…look at me! God I'm sorry," Wilmington tried and was rewarded when Larabee's head turned towards him, angered by the pain that was evident on his face.

"B…Buck…why?"

"She's crazy, Chris."

"G…get away, d…don't stay h…here!" Larabee ground out between gasping breaths.

"I won't leave you!" The ladies' man vowed as he watched his friend struggle with the newest torment heaped on his shaking body.

"G…get help…"

"If I get away they'll kill you, Chris, and I won't let that happen."

"St…staying w…with her will k…kill you. G…get help! V…Vin…others…come…"

"Something tells me the boys will come anyway because I don't think she sent a message at all and Rosie runs the telegram."

"T…that's h…how she knew w…what I w…was doing. T…tried to telegram S…St. Louis…find out 'bout h…her. God, Buck!"

"Easy, Chris, just try to be still!"

"So, Buck, have we come to an understanding?"

"What do you mean, Angela?"

"Are you willing to marry me or should I just have Ethan take care of Chris now? I assure you that his death will not be an easy thing to watch!"

"No, Angela, don't let him touch Chris. You make sure he's taken care of and I'll do anything you ask of me."

"No, Buck, s…sell soul to devil first."

"Think I already have, Chris, and I wish it hadn't been at the cost of yours," Wilmington said as Rosemary held a cup of liquid to his lips. He knew what it contained and knew he would be asleep as soon as they put him in the buckboard and he let his gaze wander back to his friend. No words were spoken, but beneath the pain he read the promise of retribution and gave a simple nod that the message was received and understood. No matter what happened there would be hell to pay before all was said and done.

"Angela, I'm going to set his arm and give him a shot of morphine," Rosemary said having read the message in the men's body language.

"Don't touch me!" Larabee ground out through tightly clenched teeth.

"Do you really think you can dictate what I can or can't do, Chris?" Rosemary said with a smile as she stood staring into the pale face.

"Bitch!"

"No!" Wilmington cried out as the woman viciously slapped Larabee across the face.

"Get him to finish the drink, Angela and then get Ethan to help you out to the buckboard while I finish things with my reluctant patient!" Clark ordered and released Larabee's now useless left arm. She smiled maliciously as he yelped in surprised pain.

"Jesus, Angela, please stop this!"

"I'm afraid I can't. Besides she's doing what needs to be done if he's to have use of his arm again. Ethan find something she can use for splints while Buck finishes his 'tea'."

"Yes Ma'am," Turner said and hurried out the door.

Chris watched in horrified surprise as the woman moved his arm and tried to put the broken bone in place. He knew from experience it wasn't easy, but the woman before him seemed to take pleasure in prolonging his discomfort. He fought the waves of nausea and tried to see past her to where the ladies' man sat, but Rosemary Clark successfully blocked his view.

"Almost done, Chris, and then I'm going to have to immobilize this arm. I'll strap it to your chest. There, all done. That wasn't so bad was it?"

"B…bitch!" the blond cursed softly as he fought to breathe. He watched as she loaded a syringe and tried to move away from her, but there was no slack in the ropes and he was forced to watch as she injected the narcotic into his vein.

"That should keep you comfortable for a while." She said and took the splints from Ethan Turner. She quickly set about fixing them in place and then used other materials to strap his arm to his chest. By the time she was finished he was glassy eyed and seemed to be laughing at her. "I see you're feeling better, Chris."

"Fuck…ing Bitch!" Larabee laughed, but the strength was not there as he tried to find Wilmington once more. Their eyes met for less than a second, but the promise was there once more.

"Are you ready to go, Buck?" Tate asked.

"Please, Angela, I'll go anywhere…do anything…be anybody you want me to be if you just let him go. He can't hurt you!"

"He knows about me and Rosie, Buck, so for now he stays put and you share my bed. Come on, Lover, the night is late and I want to enjoy the fruits of my endeavors."

Buck felt himself pulled to his feet and realized he hadn't even felt the ropes removed from the chair. He turned and looked over his shoulder as the two women led him out the door. His last glimpse of Chris Larabee sent a tremor of grizzly fear through his body and he wondered if he'd ever see the man alive again.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

It was late when Vin Tanner returned to the town he now called home, but he knew the others would still be in the saloon. Turning Peso over to Yosemite he turned and walked briskly towards the establishment. He'd done a lot of thinking while patrolling the area and his gut instincts were kicking in more than ever. Something was wrong and he knew whatever it was didn't bode well for Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington.

The tracker pushed open the batwing doors and immediately spotted the four men seated at the usual table towards the back wall. There were three others present and they seemed to be playing a hand of cards, but without much enthusiasm. Vin smiled inwardly because he knew from experience that Ezra Standish had probably already won their wages and left them with little or no means of winning it back. He hurried to join the four peacekeepers as Inez delivered a fresh drink for each of them.

"How are things out at Chris' place?" Dunne asked.

"Quiet," Tanner answered before washing down the days dust with the glass of beer.

"Always is," Jackson said.

"Any word from Chris or Buck?"

"Nothing," Standish answered simply.

"I'm ridin' fer Midfield first light," the Texan told them.

"I think we're all in agreement that something is wrong in that fair town," Standish said.

"Vin, Ezra and I will be riding with you," Sanchez explained as he looked at the others. They'd talked it through before Tanner's arrival and knew it was time to find out what was keeping Larabee and Wilmington from answering their summons.

"I'd go, but Mrs. Jenkins is due any day and well it bein' her first she's as skittish as a newborn calf," Jackson explained.

"And I got two men waiting for the marshals to pick them up," Dunne said unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

"All right, I'm gonna catch a couple hours sleep. Meet ya at the livery at first light," Tanner told them as he stood up and headed for the door. As he stepped through the door he caught a glimpse of the moon and for a few seconds it seemed to be bathed in a pale red glow and Vin shuddered as he thought of the two missing men.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

Buck opened his eyes and tried to focus on the world around him. His memories were fuzzy and it was hard to concentrate and he briefly wondered why Nathan had drugged him. A sudden scent struck him and with its onslaught came the memories that were just out of his reach moments before. The memory of a scream of pain and the glassy green eyes that promised redemption for both of them made his heart beat a little faster. He heard movement on his left and he turned to see the most beautiful she-devil he'd ever known.

"Hello, Lover, I'm so pleased you've decided to rejoin me. Last night was so good, but I know it can be even better when you're wide awake and a willing partner."

"Angela, why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you, Buck, and want us to be happy. Maybe we could have a baby and you could be a real father and love us."

"I could never love you. Not after what you've done!"

"Maybe not, but at least I'll have a satisfying partner in my bed. And if by chance you can't perform there are ways to ensure your cooperation. A few things I've been able to acquire from the little man who does the laundry at Rosie's hotel."

"You've changed," Wilmington stated as she sat down beside him. His arms were tied to the bedpost, but his legs were free and he fought the urge to kick out at her.

"No, Lover, you have. There was a time when you would have craved the excitement I offered."

"Not if it meant someone had to suffer."

"Chris doesn't have to suffer, Buck, not if you keep up your end of our bargain even if you do consider it a bargain with the devil," Angela laughed as she stroked her hand down his taut biceps.

"I won't answer that because I don't want to see Chris hurt anymore than you already have hurt him. What you did was cruel."

"No, Buck, it was justice because you wronged me." Tate warned as she struggled to control her own anger. "I do hope you won't be the reason for him being hurt anymore!"

"I won't, Angela, but be warned that someday I'll find a way to get Chris out of this and when I do I'll see you and that other she-devil hung for murder!"

"You can't prove we murdered anyone!"

"Not yet, but I'll find a way!"

"Don't be so sure. By the way Reverend Collins will be out tomorrow and you and I can exchange our vows and you can tell him how much you love me."

"It'll be a lie," Wilmington stated.

"I'm sure it will, but you'd better make him and my other guests believe you or I'll have Rosie visit Larabee again!"

"Don't!"

"That depends on you, Lover," Angela said and disrobed before sliding into the bed with her captive mate. She trembled at the touch of his body against hers and vowed she'd have him as often as she could during their time together.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

They'd been on the trail for over ten hours and Josiah knew he had to call a halt to it before the horses collapsed and they were left to walk the trail to Midfield. He spurred his mount past Standish and reached for Peso's reins only to receive a sidelong glare from the Texan.

"Vin, we need to rest the horses."

"Still got an hour of daylight," Tanner told him.

"Yes, but we're all tired and wearing out the horses won't get us there any faster. In fact it'll probably slow us down!"

"Mr. Sanchez is correct in his appraisal of the horses. They are indeed beginning to show signs of exhaustion," Standish said as he drew up alongside his companions.

"Vin, we're all worried about Chris and Buck, but we'll be no good to them if we don't get there in time."

"All right, Josiah. There's a place 'bout a mile ahead that's got water and grass," Tanner said and rode ahead.

"Mr. Tanner's concern is showing," Standish said.

"I know, and that's not like Vin. He's usually as tight lipped as Chris," Sanchez said as they watched the Texan ride towards a cluster of boulders and sagebrush.

"Do you believe that our missing members are truly in need of our assistance?"

"I don't, but if Vin's this hell bent on getting to Midfield then I'm willing to ride along and watch his back."

"He does seem to have a certain ability to know what is happening with Mr. Larabee."

"Yes, he does. Something tells me they are kindred spirits and were meant to cross paths in Four Corners."

"Very astute of you."

"Thank you," Sanchez said and turned a toothy grin on his riding companion. "Now what do you say to catching up with Vin?"

"Certainly, Mr. Sanchez," Standish said as the two men picked up their pace.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

Ethan Turner paced back and forth in the small confines of the shack. It had been raining most of the day and he was irritated that he couldn't get outside. His anger escalated each time he looked at the man lying on the bed. He should be on the floor, but the women had insisted that he be kept in the bed. Right now the money he was being paid did not make the situation better and he reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table. He sprawled on the chair and lifted the bottle to his mouth.

Chris watched the man as he dropped onto the chair and returned his attention to the rapidly emptying whiskey bottle. Turner looked as if he'd be a mean drunk and somehow Chris knew that meanness would soon show through. The man seemed to be on edge since the rain had started and Chris had no idea how long ago that was. Between the utter pain and the laudanum-laced drinks he had lost track of time and didn't even know what day it was. He'd thought long and hard about what Buck was being forced to do because of him and wished there was some way out of the mess they were both trapped in. His attention returned to the man at the table as he heard the bottle slammed hard on the surface. Turner was out of liquor and Chris had a feeling things were about to get a whole lot worse for him as the man picked up a knife and started twirling it between his fingers.

"I know you're awake, Larabee. Heard ya movin' around and tryin' not ta groan, but it ain't workin'.

Chris swallowed and shifted slightly in an effort to get a better view of his tormentor. The lethal looking blade sent shivers down his spine, but he was helpless to do anything about it. He watched as the man twirled it and the light reflected off the shiny steel. The light also caught the glassy, drunken eyes of the baby-faced killer seated at the table.

"Ya listenin' ta me, ya miserable sonofabitch?"

"I hear you," Larabee answered in hopes of keeping the man from doing anything more than twirling the knife.

"I should drag ya outta that bed and show ya who's really in charge!"

"You bow to those women, Turner. No way have you got the guts to free me!"

"Ain't gonna free ya! Just gonna drag ya off the bed and tie ya in a corner like the dawg ya are!"

"You don't have the guts! Scared of them two ladies!"

"Shut that fuckin' mouth or I'll shut it for ya!"

"I don't think so, Turner. From where I am you're so scared of them two you're getting a yellow streak down your back!"

"Shut up!"

"What's the matter? Truth hurts!" Larabee knew he'd gone too far as Turner stood and crossed the short distance in a two strides. The man stood over him and lashed out with the blade, slicing into the bandages that covered his side. Chris could not move as Turner placed the tip of the blade at his throat.

"Not so fuckin' cocky now are ya?"

"S…sick fuck…"

"Shut up, Larabee! God damn it ya'd best do as I say or I'll slit yer throat and let the vermin have yer body before it's even cold!" Turner spat as he watched Larabee's face convulse in pain. He removed the blade and looked at the blood seeping through the bandages and knew he'd gone too far. Rosemary Clark had warned him not to do anything to the captive, but the liquor had made him forget his place. He had to do something to stop the bleeding before Larabee died or else he'd have signed his own death warrant. He grabbed the towel draped over the chair and lifted the bandages from the injured man's side as he swiped at the sweat from his eyes.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! See whatcha made me do?"

Chris was beyond hearing the man's angry voice and the words did not make sense anymore as the burning pain in his side intensified. He felt someone pressing against the wound, but could not find the energy to open his eyes and see who it was. As darkness descended Chris Larabee gave himself over to the welcoming oblivion.

Turner worked hard to stop the bleeding and was relieved when it seemed to have slowed. He quickly reached for the basin of clean water and carbolic and bathed the reddened area in an effort to bring down the swelling and rid the area of any sign of bleeding. The cobwebs had left him shaken and angry, but he could not take his anger out on this man, not here, not now! He placed clean bandages over the wound and went for more water to wipe down the fevered body that lay quietly in the bed.

M7M7M7M7M7M7M7

"Buck, I'm going to release you, but I'm warning you not to try anything or Chris will pay dearly for it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," Wilmington snapped as he stared at the hated figure standing beside the bed. He knew she was expecting Reverend Collins and several other guests later in the day. She'd come to him that morning and told him of her plans and what the outcome would be if he didn't convince everyone of his undying love for her.

"Very well. Oh, I have a suit ready for you and I expect you to wear it today. I'm having several new outfits tailored to fit you as they should and they will be my wedding present to you. What are you getting for me?" Tate asked as she placed her hands on his chest and leaned down to kiss him once more.

"Ain't got nothin' to give you, Angela. You took everything I offered and twisted it into something dirty and twisted and there's nothing that can change that. Oh, I'll perform for you…just like those people who make out they're Shakespeare's characters, but you and I will both know the truth. There's no way around that!"

"That's okay, Lover, because I have enough love for both of us. Now don't you go telling Reverend Collins about our sleeping arrangements because I'll just deny it. As of now you've been sleeping in the spare room."

"I'd rather sleep there anyway…alone!"

"That's not going to happen, Lover. Once our guests have left you and I are going to celebrate our upcoming wedding."

"Sounds more like a death sentence to me," Wilmington stated flatly.

"Now, Buck, I think it's time you realized that we're going to be husband and wife and like it or not you're going to be a willing participant. After all Chris Larabee is depending on you or have you forgotten that little detail?"

"I haven't forgotten, Angela, but you mark my words and hear me real good. There will come a time when you won't be holding all the cards and when that time comes I'll make you pay for everything you and your friends have done to Chris. Understood?"

"Understood, but you'd better understand me, Buck Wilmington. You've just cost your friend the use of his leg, because those scalding comments don't sit within the boundaries of our arrangement."

"No, Angela, please…"

"You should have thought of that before, Lover. I warned you I would not appreciate any kind of threats."

"I didn't mean it," Wilmington lied as she reached over his head to untie the knots in the ropes.

"Why should I believe you, Buck?"

"Give me a chance to prove it and I promise you won't be sorry, Angela."

"You put on a good show, Lover, and maybe I'll reconsider. Rosie and Joseph will be here and she will be riding out to visit Chris. What she does when she sees him depends very much on how well you please me today."

Buck felt his arms released and tried to rub the circulation back into his hands as he stared into the glacial green eyes. His hatred grew with every breath he took, with every sensation of her body against his, and with the very scent he associated with her. Fighting back the nausea he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. He'd learned at an early age that men and women could fake their bodies' reactions and he forced himself to concentrate on the feelings he once had for this woman. He heard her soft moans of pleasure and knew he was giving her what she craved. Forcing down the bitter bile that rose in his throat, Buck Wilmington knew he had indeed sold his soul to the she-devil in his arms.

TBC