Kiss of Death----14
Buck lay awake long after his wife had succumbed to sleep. Her fiery red hair spread across his chest and tickled his chin and neck, but he didn't move to push it away. They'd made love, although there was no love in it for him, until she'd finally placed her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes with a softly sated moan.
Wilmington turned to look out the window and heard the far off cry of a coyote. It brought home how alone he was and he trembled inwardly as he returned his gaze to the woman lying on his arm. Never before had he held a woman like this and been loathed to take her and love her the way a man loved a woman. The very thought of touching her in any way sent waves of nausea rolling through his stomach and rising on a tide in his throat. It was something he had to do, and he would do it until he found a way to free Chris from the chains that bound him. He felt her moving and closed his eyes quickly before she realized he was awake. He heard her speaking softly and calling his name, but did nothing to make her believe he'd heard her.
"Are you awake, Lover?" Angela asked as she lifted her head and looked into the handsome face of her husband. She rubbed her hand across his chest and winced at the whiskey-drenched breath that reached her nostrils. "Damn it! Why did you drink so much?"
Buck felt her settle back down on his arm and fought the urge to laugh at her comment. Whiskey had nothing to do with why he didn't want to make love to her. He kept his eyes closed and finally drifted towards sleep with thoughts of murder running rampant through his mind.
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Rosemary Clark rose before her husband and hurried towards the barn. She waited impatiently for her horse to be saddled and mounted up as her employee placed the saddlebags in her hands.
"Tell Joseph I'll see him in town!"
"Yes, Ma'am," the man said as he rubbed his heavily stubbled chin. He found his employer's wife strange, but had never said anything about it because the job paid well and included a roof over his head. He'd seen some strange things between her and the Tate woman, but had never spoken of it. He wondered where she rode so early in the morning and why she always seemed to be in a hurry, but again he didn't question her even when her husband inquired as to her whereabouts. He watched her ride out of sight and returned to the job of repairing the ladder leading up to the loft.
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Ethan Turner watched the woman riding towards him and reached for the reins as she dismounted. He looped them over the hitching post and grabbed the saddlebags before following her into the shack.
"How is he?"
"Still got that fever, but he seems ta be sleepin' easier."
"Have you been able to get him to drink anything since I left yesterday?"
"Yeah, all I gotta do is show him that tube and he drinks just fine," Turner said with a grin.
"Good, make sure you keep at him. Bring me some clean hot water and cloths. I've brought bandages and more herbs and I want you to mix one now."
"Yes, ma'am," Turner said and watched the woman for several seconds as she tried to wake the fevered man.
"Chris, I need you to look at me! Open your eyes."
"T…tired…hurts!"
"I know, but I'm going to help you feel better. I've brought some herbs to make a drink for you and I'm going to clean your wounds."
"N…no. W…wait f…for," Larabee said weakly.
"Wait for what, Chris?" Clark asked knowing the man wasn't really with her.
"N…Nathan…he, he'll know what to d…do," the blond mumbled, eyes glassy and unfocused.
"Nathan told me what to do to help you, Chris. Do you trust him?"
"T…trust Nathan w…with my l…life," Larabee said as he tried to make sense of the pain knifing through his body.
"That's good, because Nathan trusts me, Chris."
"Trusts y…you?"
"That's right. He couldn't be here and asked me to take care of you. I'm going to do that now and make you a little more comfortable."
"T…too hot!"
"I'm sure it is, Chris, and I promise we'll do something about that too, but right now I need you to drink something for me," she explained as Turner handed her the cup of herbal tea. She held it to his mouth and spoke in soothing tones as she tried to get him to drink the offering. She knew she had to keep him in a semi-dazed condition if she was going to get him to cooperate and so far things were going better than she expected.
"T…tastes b…bad," Larabee mumbled and licked his lips before closing his eyes.
"I know and when you're done I'll give you some water," Clark said.
"O…okay," Larabee muttered and frowned as an image flashed before his eyes. Someone was calling his name, but he couldn't quite see who it was. A familiar face swam before his eyes and he tried to make sense of the anger on Buck Wilmington's face. For several long moments he thought it was directed at him, but his vision suddenly cleared and he gasped as the cold eyes looked back at him.
"Welcome back, although I think you'd have enjoyed it more if you'd stayed where you were."
"Buck…where?"
"He's probably at home sleeping or making love to his wife," Clark explained maliciously.
"Wife…no, not ma…married."
"He is now, and believe me he's probably in as much pain as you are!" She heard Turner chuckle as she forced more of the liquid on her reluctant patient.
"Why?"
"Why? Why what?" Clark asked.
"Why y…you help…helping bitch?" He yelped as she roughly pulled the bandage from his thigh.
"Angela is not a bitch, Chris, and you'll do well to remember that! Now I need to clean this and get back to town. I hope you realize that things could be much worse for you. I'm going out of my way to see that you're cared for!"
"Don't d…do me an…any fuckin' favors!" Larabee spat as she pressed against the wound and then replaced the dirty bandage with a clean one.
"You're such an ungrateful bastard! I'm doing as much as your Nathan could do…"
"Not e…even close," Larabee spat and held his breath as she removed the bandage from his side.
"This looks better, but I'm still not putting any stitches in until there's no pus present. Ethan, I won't be able to make it out here tonight so it'll be up to you to change the bandages."
"My pleasure," the man said as he watched the woman working on the blond's injuries.
"How does the arm feel? Is it numb or any tingling in your arm?"
"N…none of y…your f…fuckin' business," the bound man answered sharply. He knew he was goading the woman, but could not answer her questions as if she cared. He felt her working on his side and then another cup was placed at his lips. He thought about refusing the liquid, but the threat of the tube being shoved down his throat made him reconsider and he drank the laudanum laced water and felt his eyelids grow heavy.
Rosemary stood up and washed her hands in the clean basin of water Turner had brought in. She knew the blond was nearly asleep and that he was little or no threat to them and she turned her attention on Turner. "I want you to make sure you do everything I just did this evening and give him the laudanum again tonight. It's imperative we keep him dazed at all times. I'll be back sometime tomorrow morning, but it won't be this early!"
"Yes, Ma'am." Turner said and again walked the woman to her horse. It was still early in the day, but the heat was already uncomfortable as he stood watching her ride away. He looked back at the sleeping man and smiled as an idea began to form. He could force the laudanum on Larabee late in the afternoon and leave for town for a couple of hours. There was a saloon girl he wanted to see and share a bed with for a few hours and then he could ride back here before sun up. Whistling a tune he smiled and walked inside, closing the door behind him as he looked for something to prepare for lunch.
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Turner moved drunkenly towards his horse as the saloon girl he'd spent most of the night with waved to him. He knew he had to hurry back to the line shack or risk being found out by Rosemary Clark.
"Bitch'll tar and feather me," he slurred as he finally got his foot in the stirrup. He again looked towards the pretty saloon girl before turning and riding out of town, unaware of the man standing in the shadows watching his departure.
Rawlings recognized the man he'd just seen riding out of town and knew he was often in the employ of anyone who needed a shady job done. He hadn't seen him in nearly a week and frowned as he looked at Suzie as she walked into the saloon. It was too late to ride after the man now, but if Turner had money he would be back in town the next night. Evan would follow him when he left and see just what the man was up to and whom he was working for.
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The day seemed to drag on for Buck, as he couldn't shake the shadow that seemed to have attached itself to his body and soul. Angela was insatiable and they'd spent most of their waking hours in bed. She'd even had their meals delivered to the room and intercepted Carmon at the door each time. He sat coldly while she insisted on feeding him and wanted so much to choke the life out of her, but there was nothing he could do until he was sure Chris Larabee was safe. He felt her hands reach for him again and groaned as his body reacted to the touch.
"See, Lover, you do want me," Angela teased playfully.
"I'm tired, Angela."
"That's what you say, but your body tells me differently."
"It's late and we have to get up early tomorrow to make it into church. It wouldn't look good if the newlyweds were late for church."
"We could stay home."
"No, we need to show respect for Reverend Collins."
"I don't remember you being so all fired big on sermons."
"I wasn't, but that was before I met Josiah Sanchez and I promised him I'd always make it to church if I was near one," the ladies' man lied.
"Oh, Buck, I want you so much right now, but I will leave you alone if you do one thing for me."
"What?" the rogue asked suspiciously.
"Say my name for me. My full name."
"Angela Marion Ta…" he grunted as an elbow was driven into his ribs.
"Don't play me for a fool, Buck. You know what I want."
"Angela Marion Wilmington," the mustached man said in utter defeat. He heard her laughter and felt her cuddle up to him. He shivered as if cold air had blown over his naked body and knew he was lost.
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The third night on the trail found the three peacekeepers weary and ready to bed down. They'd had coffee, beans, and bacon and were camped next to a small creek that provided fresh water. Vin knew there were fish in the creek and would catch some before the other two woke at dawn. He was taking the second watch this time and rubbed at his back as a dull ache began to build there. He'd always had pain in his back, sometimes it was so bad it nearly incapacitated him, but tonight it was just an annoying throb. He pulled his blanket up over his body and closed his eyes.
Standish watched as Sanchez and Tanner settled under their bedrolls. He hadn't missed Tanner's wince when he twisted under the blankets and was not so sure he would wake him in four hours. His gaze went to Sanchez and he nodded when the older man pointed to himself and knew he was saying he would take the next watch. The gambler began walking along the outer edges of their makeshift camp and until he found a place to sit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the deck of cards he kept there. There were tricks he could do to keep himself occupied, ones he'd learned growing up in the care of his mother's family. He'd learned at an early age that he could keep his hands and mind occupied by perfecting his technique with the cards. The hours passed quickly as again and again he flipped the deck through his fingers and checked the perimeter of the camp while keeping the fire going. Finally midnight came and he touched the ex-preacher's shoulder gently.
"I believe you wished to be roused for the second watch," he whispered and looked towards the sleeping tracker.
"Yeah, get some sleep, Ez."
"I will, Mr. Sanchez."
Josiah stood and shook off the last vestiges of sleep and added a few broken pieces of wood to the fire. He checked the horses and returned to the fire, smiling as he heard the soft snoring from both men. Vin Tanner seemed worn out during the days' ride and it had been obvious his back was bothering him. The older man often wondered what caused the pain and whether it was from an injury or something he'd been born with. Tanner was such a private man he didn't think he'd ever know the full story. The ex-preacher turned away from the fire and strode towards the creek. The moonlight shone off the rippling water and added to the serenity of the musical sound of gurgling flow.
He walked back to his saddle and reached into the bag that clung to one side. There he found a small knife that he'd owned since his days in the ministry. He rarely talked of those days, but often found himself using things he'd learned in his experiences. He walked back to the creek and removed his boots and sock and rolled up the legs of his pants. He knew he had to be perfectly still and let his instincts take over as he stood in the middle of the slowly moving stream. The vibrant moon hung heavy in the sky and illuminated the water and the man who stood silent and still at the center. His eyes spotted a darker shadow and his arm moved as if of its own volition and came up with a writhing fish impaled on its sharp tip. It wasn't big, but he threw it on shore and returned his attention to the job of catching breakfast.
Vin slowly woke to the delicious enticing smell of fish and quickly threw back the blankets to find Josiah Sanchez smiling around a mouthful of trout. He shook his head as he realized the two men had let him sleep and knew it was out of concern for him.
"Thanks," he said simply as he accepted a plate of fish from the conman."
"You're welcome," the ex-preacher said and poured coffee into a battered cup before passing it to the Texan.
"Tastes good."
"I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Tanner. A finer feast I have never before indulged in," Standish blustered.
"Somehow I doubt that, Ezra. Maude didn't strike me as a person who disliked the finer things in life including meals."
"Well, Mr. Sanchez, it behooves me to say that Mothah was not always around when I was growing up, but she did love eating at fabulous restaurants, and I have accompanied her to several, but I reiterate that this is the finest feast I have had and might I add that the company at this time is preferable to the stuff shirts we dined with!"
"Ez, why don'tcha just say ya like our company better."
"I thought I just did," Standish said frowning bewilderedly at the two men. The two smiled knowingly and they ate the remainder of breakfast in silence before saddling the horses and riding towards their destination. They knew if they rode hard the rest of the day they would be in Midfield by midnight or shortly after.
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Chris woke on and off through the night, mumbling unintelligibly as the fever continued to ravage his body. He'd search for something or someone, but the illusive people he saw in his dreams were always just shadows he could not reach while awake. Someone had thrown a heavy blanket over him and the heat was nearly unbearable, but he did not have the strength to push it off. He frowned as he tried to move his arms and legs, but they were mired in thick sludge that allowed little or no movement at all. The room he was in was completely dark and the only sound was his harsh breathing.
"Sarah," the word was whispered with a deep longing that would've sent tremors through the most hardened heart, but even worse was the sound of soft sobs that escaped the injured man's raw throat. There was no one there to offer comfort or sooth the man from his too-real nightmares as Chris Larabee slipped back into the dreams that did little to ease his tortured body and spirit.
TBC