Kiss of Death----16
Buck lay awake in the bed he shared with Angela Tate. They'd returned to their home with Rosemary's insistence and Wilmington knew the woman was not grieving for her husband. Angela had long ago fallen asleep and although he hated her touch he could not chance her anger if he left their bed. He hated what his life had become and even worse hated the feel of her hair against his chest or the soft breath against his shoulder. But this was how he would live until he found a way to get to Chris Larabee and get him the help he needed. Until then he would do what needed to be done and take his vengeance out on Angela and Rosemary when he time was right.
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Angela opened her eyes and smiled as she heard the snores emanating from her husband. She knew the sleeping draught she'd slipped him had finally taken over and that he would sleep for several hours. She needed to get out to the line shack, make sure everything was as it should be, ride back here and head into town for Joseph's funeral. Sliding her long legs over the edge, Angela stood up and stretched. She looked at Wilmington and knew she would not be able to keep him much longer, but she would enjoy his prowess in bed for as long as she could.
She quickly dressed and hurried out of the room. Carmon was still sleeping and she would leave without notice and that was just the way she wanted it. She hurried to the stable and saddled the fastest horse she had before leading him outside. She mounted up and dug her heels into the side and smiled as the animal took off. She loved riding free as the wind, but her haste today had little to do with enjoyment. She needed to check on Larabee and Turner, and then get back to the house.
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Turner was relieved to see the hitching post was empty and he smiled in spite of the mounting headache. He knew he'd drunk too much and was lucky the sheriff had only ordered him out of town or spend the next few days locked behind bars. He moved into the shack and cursed the foul smell of sickness that greeted him.
"I don't think this is worth it!" he spat as he removed his jacket without realizing the smell was coming from his own body. He threw the jacket aside and hurried to get fresh water and care for the injured man.
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"Wait up a minute, Vin," Sanchez warned as the younger man seemed ready to storm the shack.
"Chris could be in there!"
"I know, but there's a rider coming."
"Where?" Tanner asked, hating the way he'd been distracted and been unaware of a rider coming in.
"Coming in just to the south of us," Sanchez explained and pointed to the darker shadow headed towards the line shack.
"Looks like a woman," Tanner observed as she rode within a hundred feet of them. Neither man moved as the woman raced past, but they wondered if things had just gone from bad to worse as she dismounted and hurried into the line shack.
"Maybe we should wait until she leaves."
"What if she's come…"
"Vin, we don't even know for sure Chris is in there."
"Damn it, J'siah, my gut says he is," Tanner said as Turner came out of the shack and grabbed the saddlebags off the woman's horse.
"I trust your gut instincts, Vin, but right now I think we're better off waiting until one of them leaves. We go in there all piss and vinegar there's libel to be shooting and someone's gonna be hurt. Might be best to wait and see because if Chris is in there we got no idea what kind of shape he's in," Sanchez explained as he dismounted and led his horse towards a stand of trees where he waited for the Texan to join him.
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Angela cursed as she entered the line shack and the sickly smell of sour vomit and stale liquor assaulted her senses. She saw the fear on Turner's face as her gaze quickly swept the small room.
"Mrs. W…Wilmington, wasn't 'spectin' ya," Turner explained fearfully.
"I can see that! Where the hell have you been?"
"I been here…"
"Then why is your horse soaked with sweat and still saddled and why do you smell like a man who's been drinking and whoring around?"
"I…I just went ta get supplies and had a drink or two while I was there. Man gets thirsty way out here and I needed the stuff ta take care of that bastard!" His head snapped back as she slapped him across the face.
"Don't ever lie to me, Ethan, because you'll pay for it! Now go bring my saddlebags in and make damn sure I have clean water and bandages!"
"Yes, Ma'am," Turner said as he hurried from the shack.
Angela looked at Larabee and knew he needed more help than she could give him, but she was all he had right now. Rosemary would know what to do for the man, but somehow she didn't expect the blond to be with them much longer. They'd have to make sure Wilmington didn't know what kind of tenuous hold his friend had on life right now. She set to work on the wounds as soon as Turner brought her the saddlebags. Once she finished with Larabee she packed up and headed out to her horse and took off back to her ranch.
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"Whoever she is she's in a hell of a hurry to get somewhere," Sanchez said as they watched from their vantage point.
"That jest leaves Turner!"
"Have you got a plan?"
"Always got a plan, J'siah," the Texan said with a grin.
"Yeah, I have noticed that. So how do you want to do this?"
"I'm just gonna ride down and say howdy."
"Simple as that?"
"Sometimes simple is the best," Tanner told him and reached for Peso's reins.
"Yeah, I think you're right. Just make sure you have his attention while I get in behind him," Sanchez ordered as the Texan mounted Peso and began to ride towards the shack.
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Turner frowned as he finished setting up a pot of coffee. The chewing out he received from Angela Tate left a bitter taste in his mouth and coupled with his sour stomach gave him the disposition of a rabid cougar. He kept glancing from his gun on the table to the man who mumbled incoherently on the small bed.
"Should fuckin' kill ya and ride off, but I need that money!" Turner said and punctuated his word with a fist to Larabee's thigh. The injured man cried out as his body arched on the bed and then dropped back down. He heard the sound of a horse approaching and wondered what the woman had forgotten as he hurried to the door.
"Howdy, Mister, jest wanted ta ask fer a little water."
"Who the hell are ya?" Turner asked as he glanced towards the gun he'd left on the table.
"Just a drifter. Ain't planning on stayin', but could really use a drink."
"Help yerself and get on yer way," Turner said and pointed towards the covered well. He watched the buckskin clad man move toward the well and walked away from the door of the shack in order to keep the man in sight. Too late he heard movement behind him and turned to face a large man in a Serape standing between him and the shack.
"Keep your hands where I can see them!" Sanchez ordered.
"Who the fuck are ya?" Turner asked angrily as he spun back to face the second man.
"Could be we're avenging angels," the ex-preacher whispered as he turned towards the inside of the shack.
"Josiah?"
"Vin, keep that miserable sonofabitch out here!"
"Is it Chris?" the Texan asked worriedly.
"Yes," was all Sanchez said as he hurried inside and over to the bed. The lean gunslinger was battered and bruised and his forehead and chest glistened with perspiration.
"Jesus!" Tanner cursed, shoving the other man roughly into the single chair. He reached for a strip of material that hung across the table and quickly tied Turner's arms behind his back before moving to check on Sanchez and Larabee.
"Chris, Son, can you hear me?" the older man tried as he watched Larabee's knuckles turning white as he gripped the rough-hewn blanket.
"Hey, Cowboy, me and J'siah are here," Tanner explained as a pair of glazed green eyes opened and looked at him. He saw no sign of recognition and knew his friend was locked in some kind of waking nightmare.
"Vin, he don't know who we are right now," Sanchez told the Texan.
"What the fuck did ya do ta him?"
"Wasn't me, Mister. It was Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington. They shot him, but I've been takin' good care of 'im!" Turner lied.
"Like hell! He's burnin' up!" Tanner spat. He watched as Sanchez managed to get the blanket away from the blond and pull it back to reveal two separate bandages and numerous bruises. The bandage covering the thigh showed evidence of fresh bleeding and the big preacher's hands eased back the material.
"Looks like someone hit him here!"
"W…wasn't me!" Turner stammered as cold blue eyes turned on him. He knew the man was dangerous and cringed as the lanky Texan grabbed his collar.
"Ya hit him ya bastard and I'm gonna make sure ya don't fuck with anyone else!"
"Vin, leave him be and go bring in some fresh water!" Sanchez ordered knowing the man needed to keep busy. His relationship with Chris Larabee was that of a brother and it was hard seeing someone you cared about hurting, especially someone you considered family. "Vin, did you hear me?"
"Heard ya, J'siah, this bastard best stay put or I'll tear him apart!" the Texan warned softly, yet there was a deadly intensity that Turner could read easily.
Josiah sat in the chair beside Larabee's bed and reached out to touch the younger man. Larabee's skin was hot to the touch, yet the blond seemed to shiver uncontrollably. He wished Jackson had been able to accompany them, but that was not the case. They would have to get Larabee into town and pray there was a physician in residence.
"Looks like someone tried to help you out, Son, but I wish Nathan was here," Sanchez removed the bloodied bandage and winced at the swollen area surrounding what was evidently a bullet wound. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the Texan standing beside him with a basin of water.
"J'siah, how bad?"
"Bad enough. We need to get him cleaned up and into town. Any chance you could find what you need to make a travois?"
"Think so. Saw a couple of good lengths of wood out by the well. Ya all right here with that bastard?"
"He's not gonna try anything. Faster we get Chris into town the better."
"Does he know we're here?"
"No, right now I don't think he knows anything except that he's hurt," Sanchez explained as he finished removing the bonds that held the blond to the bed. Before he could react, Larabee came off the bed in fever baked delirium and started swinging at the older man. He fought as if his life depended on it and soon had two men holding him down.
"F….fuckin' bas…bastard!" Larabee cried as his strength left him. He heard two voices talking to him and one finally cut through the pain and horror he felt. His eyes became fixated on the buckskin clad form that stood to his left and he felt relief wash over him as another voice cut through the pain.
"Hey, Cowboy, ya with us?"
"V…Vin? Jo…Josiah?" Larabee ground out through clenched teeth as he gripped the older man's hand.
"Easy, Chris, just hold on and we'll make you more comfortable," Sanchez vowed. "Vin, get that travois built!"
"Sure, don't ya go anywhere, Cowboy!"
"N…not g…goin' any…anywhere. Jesus!" Larabee's body grew rigid with pain as he shifted slightly. He didn't see the worry and fear on his friends' faces as they tried to help him.
"I'll be right outside if'n ya need me, J'siah!"
"All right, Vin. I'm going to take a look at his wounds and maybe give him a little laudanum. Make sure that sonofabitch can't get loose!"
Chris heard the two of them talking and closed his eyes in and effort to ride out the waves of agony twisting through his gut. He heard Josiah and Vin talking and drifted towards relieved sleep as he felt Josiah's big hand on his forehead.
TBC