Kiss of Death----17
Angela smiled inwardly as her husband stood beside her at the graveyard. Rosemary stood on her right, tears flowing freely as Reverend Collins spoke the words from the well-worn bible. She kept glancing at Wilmington; well aware of the anger he was holding inside. Something told her the man knew what had really happened to Joseph Clark, but for now there was nothing he could do about it.
Buck felt his wife watching him and fought to keep the anger and hurt from showing on his face. Most of the townspeople were in attendance and he heard several newcomers behind him. Evan Rawlings was watching him closely, but there was no way he could acknowledge the man with the two women watching him. He turned to his left and had to stop himself from gasping out the name of the man who stood several feet away from him. He fought the urge to look again, but something told him he would really see the gambler dressed in the familiar red coat. If Ezra Standish was there, then so were the others and that meant help was there and it was only a matter of time before they found out where Chris Larabee was being held.
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Ezra Standish had maneuvered himself into the crowd of grievers and knew if Wilmington turned in his direction he would spot him immediately. When then dark haired man turned towards him and their eyes locked for a few short seconds, but the conman easily read the hope and relief in his friend's eyes, before Buck's attention returned to the funeral service.
Standish studied the two women standing beside Wilmington and knew these were the two he'd spoken with Rawlings about. There was no real evidence against Clark and Tate, but they would dig until they found whatever evidence was out there.
'Don't worry, Buck, you won't be stuck in this marriage for long,' Standish vowed.
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Vin worked at making sure the travois would hold up to the task of bringing Larabee into Midfield. They'd talked about him going for the physician, but it would end up taking longer and if the doctor was not there that was time they'd wasted. At least in town they could get the supplies they needed and there would be ice available to bring down Larabee's fever. He stretched his back, wincing as the muscles ached and he reached for the canteen beside him. He drank his fill and then turned his attention to the conveyance he'd just finished. It was strong and sturdy and there was no doubt in his mind that it would hold up to the job it was meant for. He'd lined it with one of the blankets found inside the line shack and checked the joins once more and secured it to Peso before hurrying into the shack. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the fevered gunslinger.
Larabee's eyes were closed, but Tanner didn't think he was sleeping as he looked at the evidence of pain lining the pale face. He moved to help Sanchez and watched the sea green eyes open and bore into him, imploring him with just a look that Vin could easily read.
"B…Buck?" the blond rasped.
"Ezra's in town keeping an eye on him, Chris. Once we get you to Midfield, we'll make damn sure he's out of danger. Rawlings knows we're here and he'll arrest the two women as soon as we let him know you're safe," Sanchez explained.
"Ya don't need ta worry 'bout any of it, Cowboy. Jest sleep and we'll get ya home," Tanner vowed.
"Home? Four Corners?"
"As soon as the doc says yer ready ta go we'll get ya back to Corners," Tanner assured him.
"Vin, did you get the travois finished?"
"It's ready, J'siah," Tanner told him as Larabee's eyes closed. This time there was no doubt that the blond was either sleeping or unconscious and whichever it was, Tanner prayed he'd stay under until after they reached town.
"Vin, we'll wrap him in the blankets he's lying on and I'll carry him to the horses."
"Peso's stronger than the other two," the Texan told him and saw the head nod once in agreement. Turner would be bound to his own horse and Sanchez would have the reins.
"All right, guess its time to get moving," Sanchez said and tucked the blankets around the lean gunslinger. He stood up and gently reached for the unconscious blond before standing and heading towards the door. He spotted Peso and the travois and gently placed the injured man on it. It didn't take them long to secure Larabee to the makeshift conveyance and Sanchez turned back to the shack. "I'll get Turner!"
"Thanks, J'siah," Tanner said tucking the blanket around the gunslinger and arranging it so the sun would not burn the man's skin during the trip into town.
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'Just stay calm, help is here,' Wilmington thought as the grievers dispersed and he walked beside the two women. He knew the plan was to stay at the hotel for the night and he was grateful he hadn't argued with them when it was suggested earlier. He'd seen Standish walk away from the graveside and wished he could get close enough to speak with the conman, but Angela was keeping a tight rein on his movements.
"Buck, you seem awfully withdrawn," the red haired woman stated.
"A man is dead, Angela, would you rather I celebrated like you and Rosemary seemed to be doing last night?"
"Watch what you say, Buck. Just because we're staying in town tonight doesn't mean Chris can't be punished tomorrow morning. There will be a lot of people coming to speak with Rosie and I expect you to act in the appropriate manner."
"That's what I was doing. I thought I was being respectful considering Joseph is dead and his wife is probably behind it." He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew he'd probably overstepped his bounds when anger flared in the green eyes.
"Chris will pay for that comment, Buck."
"Angela, don't…"
"You should have thought of that before you spoke to me like that. Keep it up and I assure you Chris Larabee won't live to see another sunrise."
Buck spotted Standish and prayed the man was not alone as they stepped into the hotel. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the gambler speaking with the sheriff before the two men stepped into the jail.
'God, Ezra, please tell me you're not alone!' he thought as he accompanied the two women up the stairs.
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Ezra walked into the jail and took a seat across from the sheriff before speaking. "Buck seems to be under guard this afternoon."
"Yeah, he does. Angela doesn't let him out of her sight and when she's not around Rosemary Clark is there. I wish there was some way to get a message to him."
"Buck Wilmington is a smart man and believe me he knows I'm here. It wouldn't take much for him to realize why I've shown up and hopefully he knows I wouldn't come alone. I'm hoping that Mr. Tanner and Mr. Sanchez return with our missing peacekeeper before the day is over."
"Yeah, that would be good. I'm glad Doc Morton stayed in town today, because I don't think those two would think twice about hurting a hostage to fortune and I think that's exactly what Chris is."
"I believe your jail may soon house two of the most beautiful prisoners to ever break the law," Standish said.
"Wish I could say you're wrong, but I've been trying to find evidence to put them in jail for some time." Rawlings took a deep breath and stood up. "I missed breakfast this morning, Ezra. Care to join me at the saloon?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," Standish agreed and walked to the door.
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The trip to Midfield took longer than expected as they stopped several times to take care of Larabee's needs. The blond's body trembled as if cold, yet beads of sweat were evident on his face. The left arm was still strapped to his body and both men knew it was broken and left it immobilized. They managed to get him to drink, but not nearly enough to ease their minds.
Vin kept glancing over his shoulder as the journey continued and darkness soon blanketed the landscape. His worry about spending a night on the trail intensified, as Larabee seemed to grow worse.
"Vin, think that's Midfield up ahead!" Sanchez called as he spotted the signal fires at the center of a cluster of buildings.
"Thank God," Tanner said and unconsciously moved Peso a little faster.
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Buck could hear the two women talking as he looked out over the town. The small fires burned in the street and cast a circle of ghostly light upon the buildings. He'd been unable to eat with the threat once more hanging over Larabee's head. Angela's temper continued to rise throughout the day and he knew the blond would suffer for what he'd said. The glass held tightly in his hand contained an amber liquid that he hadn't tasted since pouring it.
Buck took a deep breath and was about to turn away from the window when movement at the edge of the firelight caught his attention. He pressed his left hand against the window as the newcomers rode into view. He recognized the buckskin-clad man riding Peso and the ex-preacher riding his big Bay and smiled inwardly as he realized help had indeed arrived. A small smile formed on his face, but quickly disappeared as he spotted the travois being drawn by Peso.
"Chris," he whispered with a mixture of trepidation and hope as they rode towards the jail.
"Did you say something, Buck?"
"N…no, just thinking," the ladies man' stammered, as he watched Tanner dismount and hurry to check on the injured man. He hurried towards the door and raced down the hall towards the stairs as his wife called his name sharply. He ignored her voice as he raced out the front door of the hotel. "Vin! Josiah!"
"Buck, watch out!" Sanchez shouted as he spotted a woman behind Wilmington. He drew his gun at the same time as the woman fired and prayed she was not as confident or proficient with the weapon as she looked.
Wilmington dove to the right and felt something tear through his shirt at the same time a burning pain in his arm registered. He heard a second shot echo the first and turned to see Rosemary Clark fall to the ground. The woman writhed for several seconds as doors opened and morbidly curious townspeople peered into the street. Rawlings hurried to check on the woman, gun in hand as he kicked the weapon out of her reach.
"She just took a shot at Buck!" Sanchez warned as the lawman touched her throat.
"Is she dead?" someone called from the half opened door of the saloon.
"No, get Doc Morton out here!" Rawlings ordered.
"Sure, Sheriff." Someone yelled and they heard the sound of running feet.
"Where's Angela?" Wilmington asked, standing and holding his bleeding arm as he searched the darkness for the second woman.
"Milt," Rawlings called the owner of the saloon.
"Right here, Sheriff!"
"Keep pressure on this!" Rawlins ordered as the older man knelt and pressed on the wound to Clark's shoulder. The lawman hurried inside the hotel and asked if any of the patrons had seen Angela Wilmington. No one had, but they began searching room by room, but with no success.
Outside the street was awash with activity as Richard Morton arrived with his bag. He knelt beside Rosemary Clark and checked the wound before handing the man a clean piece of material and moving to check on Wilmington.
"I'm fine, Doc," the gentle rogue lied as he motioned the doctor towards the travois.
"Who is this?" Morton asked, all business as he looked at the pale features and the washed out appearance of his face.
"His name's Chris Larabee, Doc. He's a good friend," Wilmington explained as Morton touched Larabee's forehead. "Thanks for f…finding him, Vin, Josiah."
"This man's in bad shape! We need to get him to my office right away. Gerald, bring me as much ice as you can find and I'll need whiskey too!"
"I'll bring it to your house!" Gerald Carlton answered and hurried away.
"Do you two think you can carry him to my place?" Morton asked of the newcomers.
"Just point us in the right direction," Sanchez ordered as they removed the Travois from Peso.
"I'll take care of yer horses!" the liveryman called as he picked up the reins.
"Any sign of her, Evan?" Wilmington asked as the sheriff rejoined them.
"Nothing," the man said and turned to several people who stood close by. "Jake, you and Martin pick Mrs. Clark up and put her in a cell until the doc can look at her."
"Sure thing, Sheriff," Martin agreed as they picked the woman up between them.
"All right, Turner, let's get you inside and locked up!" Rawlings warned as he pulled the man from the horse's back.
"Sheriff, thank God! It wasn't me did that ta him! It was Mrs. Clark and Mrs. Wilmington! I tried ta help!"
"I'm sure you did, Turner, but you might as well save it until the judge gets here!" Rawlings warned and escorted the man into the small jail.
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"Put him on the bed over there and get rid of them blankets!" Morton ordered as he pulled the table closer to the bed and began preparing the instruments he thought he would need.
Josiah and Vin lifted the unconscious man onto the bed and winced as they took note of the fresh bleeding from both wounds. Larabee hadn't moved since being carried inside and the two men worried that it might be too late. They looked at the ladies' man as he sank into a chair on the opposite side of the bed.
"Jesus, Chris, wish I could've stopped that bitch!"
"Easy, Buck, he's got help now," Sanchez explained, accepting several strips of bandages from the physician and moved to care for Wilmington's arm.
"I'm okay, Josiah," the man mumbled softly.
"No, you're not, Buck. I have no idea what you've been through, but you need to realize whatever happened is not your fault!"
"Yes, this time it is! If I hadn't insisted on coming back here Chris'd be safe back home. Probably drinking whiskey at the saloon!"
"Maybe, but he chose ta come here with ya because he cares what happens ta ya, Buck…"
"B…Buck?"
Wilmington winced at the harsh sounding whisper and leaned close over the injured man as Larabee turned towards him. "Chris, Pard, I'm sorry!"
"D…don't…not f…fault."
"Mr. Larabee, I need you to lie still for me," Morton said as he began removing the bandage from Larabee's left side. He reached for the cloth that soaked in the mixture of water and carbolic and began cleaning the swollen area.
"Doc, anythin' I can do?" Tanner asked.
"Wash your hands and then take the bandage off his leg. I need to see how bad the wounds are!" Morton ordered.
"I can help…"
"Right now you need help, Mr. Wilmington," Morton warned and motioned for Sanchez to move the ladies' man out of the way.
"Don't think that's a real good plan right now, Doc," Sanchez said as he felt the younger man tense beneath his touch.
"All right, he can stay put, but I don't want you doing anything until I get a good look at that arm!"
"I'll see to it, Doc," the ex-preacher assured the physician and received a pale glare from the mustached man.
"Buck…okay?" Larabee asked.
"I'm fine, Chris," Wilmington tried to assure the blond as his friend groaned in pain.
"Chris, I'm going to give you a shot of morphine and then I want you to rest and let me take care of you."
"O…okay," the blond stammered tiredly. He felt the familiar sensation of a needle entering his arm and waited for the blissful release from pain it signaled.
TBC