Bret didn't expect that, and stopped waving the towel, in shock. "Clyde is dead?"

Beau nodded. "He pretended to still be unconscious as I untied him, and once he was free, he grabbed for my gun, so I shot him."

Bret nodded. "Good," he couldn't help but say, as he started waving the towel again.

Beau watched his cousin, puzzled. "I assume that's oxygen."

Bret nodded.

"So that's how it's administered," said Beau.

Bret nodded again.

Beau stuck his hand inside his jacket. "I found something in Clyde's pocket." He held up Bart's wallet. "There's five thousand dollars in it."

Bret was relieved. "Bart will be happy to see that!" he said.

Beau nodded, before reaching for the towel. "Let me take over for a while."

Bret let him take it, and sat down.

For the whole night, Bret and Beau took turns giving Bart the oxygen, despite what the doctor said when he came back in and found out that they'd been doing it for hours.

"But it's helping him!" Bret had argued. "How can you expect us to stop?"

The doctor had no answer for that, and since he thought that Bart was going to die anyway, he left them to it.

Bart spent a terrible night. When he wasn't passed out, he was awake and unable to sleep because it was still too difficult to breathe. Bart was glad to see that Beau had returned, relieved that both his brother and cousin had escaped from the incident unharmed. He could see the worry and fear in their faces though, and tried to control his breathing for their sake, but he simply couldn't do it; he felt like he'd been running further than he was capable of, and it felt like something was painfully sitting on his chest. It wasn't quite as bad as when he'd woken in the shack though, and he knew that it was because of the oxygen that the other two Mavericks were constantly waving in his face.

Suddenly, an arm slid under his shoulders and lifted him up slightly before a cup touched his lips. He realized that one of them—he wasn't sure which—had asked him if he'd wanted some water. He'd forgotten to answer.

Beau fed the water to Bart very slowly, not wanting to risk choking him.

Bart drank it, eyes closing sleepily. The overdose of chloroform still coursing through his bloodstream was more than enough to continue stealing his consciousness, and he kept drifting off and forgetting to drink.

When Beau realized that Bart was passing out again, he gave him a little shake, hoping that it would rouse him long enough to drink some more.

It did, slightly, and Bart got two more swallows before his body went limp in Beau's arm.

Beau sighed as he gently laid his cousin back down in the bed, keeping him at the incline to help his breathing. He put the cup on the nightstand and felt Bart's pulse.

It was Bret's turn to wave the oxygen at Bart, and he watched Beau anxiously. "Any change?"

Beau almost cringed at the non-rhythmic beat. "No." He sighed. "It probably hasn't been long enough for any of the chloroform to have left his blood."

Bret sighed and continued to wave the oxygen towards his brother.

The doctor confirmed Beau's statement when he came in to check on Bart. With the amount of chloroform that Bart had been dosed with, it would take days for it to be out of his bloodstream, and probably a good couple of weeks for the effects to be gone…if Bart lived.

When morning came and the bright sunlight streamed into the window, their spirits were slightly lightened, especially since Bart wasn't currently fighting to breathe; the last time he'd passed out had been nearly four hours ago, and Bret and Beau were hoping that it meant he was asleep, not unconscious.

Beau was waving the oxygen at Bart, so Bret gently took hold of his brother's wrist and felt his pulse. It was still very uneven. "I think, after this, I'm taking Bart to a town that we've never been to before," he said. "That way, we don't have to worry about anyone knowing us and trying to take revenge for their imagined woes. Wanna come?"

Beau nodded. "Absolutely."

Bret nodded back. "Good."

It was another hour before Bart woke up, announcing it with his suddenly sped-up breathing.

Bret leaned over the bed and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Bart, take it easy, you're all right."

Bart's eyes opened halfway and he gave a little smile. "I'm…alive."

Those words caused an actual pain to grip Bret's chest. "Of course you are," he said. Did Bart hear his conversation with the doctor when they'd thought that Bart was unconscious? He suddenly saw that though Bart's breathing was still too fast and heavy, it seemed more controlled. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Bart said, eyes half-closed.

"Are you in any kind of pain?" Bret asked.

Bart's eyes closed and he didn't answer.

"Bart," Bret said, squeezing his arm.

Bart half-opened his eyes again. "Sorry. Chest…feels…heavy."

Bret sighed. He took Bart's covers and folded them down, to take off some of the 'weight'. "Is that better?"

Bart nodded.

Bret smiled at him. Bart's skin was still the wrong color, but his breathing wasn't as jerky; he hoped it meant that it was becoming easier for Bart to breathe, and that it wasn't simply because Bart had become accustomed to it. "You should eat something, Bart."

If Bart had enough breath to sigh, he would've. Instead, he shook his head.

Bret had a feeling that they would get that for a response. He looked at Beau, who shrugged as if to say, 'we can't force him'. Chloroform was known for upsetting the stomach, and they certainly didn't want to make Bart feel worse than he already did.

The day passed slowly, with Bret and Beau constantly giving Bart the oxygen. Bart hardly spoke and was asleep more than awake, and when night fell again, Bret and Beau had to take turns sleeping, as neither of them had gotten any sleep the night before and were nearly as exhausted as Bart was.

The next morning, Bret woke to an unexpected sight: there was a stranger sitting in Beau's chair beside the bed. He had his head lowered and was whispering something, one hand clasping Bart's wrist and the other hand gently laying over Bart's heart.

Bret quickly sat up from his slumped position. "Who are you?" he exclaimed.

The man looked up and let go of Bart's wrist, holding his hand out in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry to have alarmed you," he said. "I'm the reverend of the church at the end of the street."

Bret blinked as he realized that the man was praying over his brother.

"Today is Sunday," said the man. "After service, I and others from the church come to the hospital to pray for the patients. I always take the one who is in the worst shape."

So Bart was currently the hospital's most critical patient? That wasn't encouraging.

"The doctor told me what happened," said the reverend. "Truly a terrible situation."

Bret nodded, with a sigh. "Yeah."

"But fear not, your brother will be fine."

Before Bret could react to that statement, the door opened and Beau came in. He saw that Bret was awake and headed over. "The doctor came in," he said to Bret. "We went into the hall to discuss Bart so we wouldn't disturb the reverend."

"What did he say?" Bret anxiously asked.

Beau sighed. "Nothing any different. We just have to wait to see what happens as the chloroform leaves Bart's blood."

Bret nodded.

The reverend looked at his watch and stood. "I have to go." He reached out to shake Bret's hand. "I need to leave on the stage in ten minutes, but I wanted to come here first."

Bret grasped his hand tightly. "Thank you," he said, sincerely.

The reverend nodded. "I'll be back here next Sunday. If your brother is still a patient, I'll come pray for him again."

Bret nodded. "I appreciate it."

The reverend nodded, shook Beau's hand, and left.

Bret looked at Beau, and didn't know what to say.

"That was unexpected," said Beau.

Bret nodded and looked at Bart, lying still and pale in the bed. "But welcome."

TBC