ON YOUR HORSES, BOYS
Part 6
The armored coach bounced hard as Vin turned the corner leading to Nathan's clinic and he earned yet another curse from Buck as the lanky cowboy grabbed for something, anything, to hold on to. He'd tried to steady Ezra against Chris, but the sagging body shifted again and sent an elbow into the gunfighter. A grunt of pain and a whoosh of air preceded a grimace on Chris' face.
"You okay, pard?" Buck asked as he seized Ezra's dislocated limb and stabilized it despite the rough ride.
Chris nodded and pushed a hand against his side.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, hurt a rib when we fell, it's nothing." He straightened as best he could and pulled the dead weight of Ezra's body to him. Once he'd situated himself, he looked down at the large exit wound in the gambler's belly and put a hand over it to stem the flow of blood.
Buck noticed Chris' awkward attempt to prevent further blood loss and quickly reprimanded himself for not acting sooner. He reached across the seat alongside his friend, grabbed a soft blanket and began tearing it into large pieces. Rolling a portion of the cloth into a tight bundle, he pushed Chris' bloody fingers aside and pressed it firmly against the open hole in Ezra's stomach. "I still can't believe old Hank was gonna shoot you," he said.
Chris didn't say a word as he reached for another piece of the blanket and crumpled it into a second patch. He waited for Buck to raise Ezra up then pressed the bundle hard against the bullet wound in the Southerner's back. Once the two holes were covered, Buck tied the wadded material in place by wrapping a longer strip of the cloth around his waist. The entire procedure took less than a minute, but the effort seemed to sap every last bit of Chris' strength. He leaned back against the side of the coach and rested his head on its metal surface.
"You sure you're all right, pard?"
Chris closed his eyes and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
"I'm sorry 'bout Hank."
"Yeah, Buck, me too," he finally answered.
Wilmington shook his head as he busied himself steadying Ezra's injured arm, but he couldn't stop thinking of Hank. The old man's mind couldn't make sense of the pain in his heart so they both broke under the strain. He'd seen the same thing nearly happen to Chris and he was more grateful than ever his friend was made of stronger stuff.
Ezra groaned and rolled his head against the gunfighter's shoulder. Chris never opened his eyes as he reached up and gently stilled the insensible tossing.
"Damn," Buck muttered. "How the hell could any God-fearing person do this to someone?"
Nothing else was said until Vin called to the horses and the vehicle slowed down. Seconds later, they came to a stop and the door was opened.
"It's all clear, let's get him to Nathan," Tanner said calmly.
Buck and Chris were already standing, holding Ezra between them. Vin held the door as Buck stepped backwards out of the coach, and waited to take the gambler's torso from Chris as he leaned over to lower him down. Ezra's body was so limp it reminded him of a child's rag doll and was so awkward to hold he feared his friend would spill away from him onto the dusty ground. He adjusted his grip and waited for Buck to do the same as the tall cowboy hooked his arms gently around Ezra's knees. Together they moved to ascend the stairs, careful not to jostle the slumped body if they could avoid it.
Chris climbed down from the rig and took a moment to catch his breath. He felt completely drained as he ran an unsteady hand through his blond hair. When he tried to rub at the back of his neck, he realized his fingers were numb. What the devil? He spread them in front of his face and stared; they were all there, coated in blood, yet the feeling in them was gone. He curled them to his palms and looked after the man whose blood he carried. Damn, Ezra, he thought, his mind searching for the 'why' of all that had happened. When the 'why' didn't come, he squeezed his hands into fists and settled simply for Damn.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Nathan had been able to make it back to his clinic just minutes before he heard the heavy Nichols rig pull up outside. He cleared the table he used to examine his patients and gathered what he knew he'd need to treat Ezra's wounds. Once he'd pulled back the curtains and lit a couple of lanterns for extra light he went to the door to guide Buck and Vin inside. Without instruction, they carried the Southerner to the table and gently laid him on his side. Nathan began immediately cutting away the blood soaked remainder of his clothing, which took only a minute since all he'd been left was his trousers, and laid a sheet smoothly over his lower body. He fingered the homemade bandage around his waist and gave a questioning glance to the tracker standing opposite him at the table.
"He was shot," Vin answered.
Shaking his head in disbelief, the healer went to work.
"What do you need me to do?" Tanner asked anxiously.
Jackson reached down to take Ezra's head in his hands. He brushed at the sweat-matted hair as he carefully touched the eye that had swollen shut and the large bruises that had blossomed across his face. He pinched at an open cut on one cheekbone before he spoke. "I'm gonna need a lot of clean hot water, fast. There's a bucket of water in the back, get it boiling then try to get me more. I need to clean the blood off him so I can see the damage. I'm also gonna need your help handling him."
Vin nodded and left the room, grateful to have something to do.
Nathan patted at the gambler's cheek. "Ezra, can you hear me?" To his surprise Standish's eyelid flickered open. Then it closed again. When he felt something bump his leg he looked down the length of Ezra's body to see fingers flexing. He put his hand over the fingers and squeezed. "It's alright, I see you. Just hang on and let me get a good look at you."
The fingers twitched again.
Nathan looked over his shoulder at Buck, who stood quietly staring. "Well, he's still with us."
Chris walked inside the clinic just in time to hear the healer's announcement.
"Where ya been, partner?" Buck asked, eyeing Chris closely as he moved slowly across the room to stand beside Ezra.
The gunfighter leaned against the table and stared down at the gambler's unmoving form. "I was just making sure the Nichols didn't follow us."
"Any sign of them?"
"Not so far, but I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of them yet," he answered before he turned his attention. "Nathan?"
"He's awake, just too worn out to talk."
"Where do we start, to fix him I mean?" Buck asked as he moved alongside Chris.
Fix him, Nathan wondered. Yeah, he supposed that's how you'd have to look at someone with so many wounds you were spoiled for choice. He wiped a dark hand across his face. "We need to set that shoulder of his first then we'll treat the bullet wound. After that, these cuts made by that damned whip need to be cleaned out, then his feet."
Chris raised Ezra's right hand from the table. "His wrists are a mess too. That rope did its share of damage."
"How's he gonna stand all that?" Buck asked.
"Once I've had a look at him I can probably give him laudanum, but honestly I'm hopin' he'll be passed out before then."
"That's a hell of a thing to hope for."
Nathan nodded his agreement and carefully reached for Ezra's left wrist and elbow. "Let's get it done. I need to put his shoulder back in place before he tries to move around. Buck, I'm gonna need you to hold 'im for me."
The large man leaned over the gambler and held him securely between himself and the table. When Nathan manipulated the arm with a twist and a jerk a heartrending scream was torn from Ezra's raw throat. He bucked beneath the man who held him and tried to scramble off the table. Chris caught hold of his legs and pinned them down as Nathan gently folded the injured arm against his chest and began softly calling his name.
Over and over, Nathan called.
Over and over, Ezra didn't hear him as he coughed and choked on the bile rising in his throat. The pain ran through him in waves and seemed it would never end until at long last the torrent slowed and he was left gasping, reeling with a hard ache that filled his entire upper body. Then, and only then, did he hear the voice of Nathan Jackson, promising him the pain would be better soon, swearing he would be all right. Strange, he'd never thought of Nathan as a liar before.
Buck and Chris both felt the fight leave Ezra's body as tightened muscles began to surrender to tremors of exhaustion. Wilmington straightened with a reassuring touch to the side of the gambler's head. Chris tried to straighten as well, but flinched when a spasm caught him unaware. His hand shot beneath the serape he wore and pushed at the hurt in his side.
"Chris?" the ladies man called.
Larabee, realizing he'd drawn attention to himself, quickly stepped around the table and moved towards the door.
"Chris?"
"Not now, Buck," he warned.
Vin came into the room from the back carrying a large metal pan of boiling water. "Where do ya want it, Nathan?"
Jackson looked from Chris and Buck back to his patient. "Here on the stand next to me."
Vin left the water and looked down at Ezra. "I heard him yellin'; you set his arm?"
"Yeah, it was twisted up pretty bad. I'm gonna need to tie it in place, but I've gotta tend all those cuts on him first; looks like several of 'em are gonna need stitches."
"Nate, he hung on that shoulder a long time. You reckon he's gonna be able to use that arm after what they done to him?"
"I don't know, Vin. I can't know how bad it's hurt 'til he wakes up. But he dislocated the same shoulder before and it healed up just fine. There's a chance it will again."
"Yeah, but he wasn't hung and whipped before."
"I know. We'll just have to wait and see," Jackson said and went back to washing his patient.
Tanner turned to see Buck staring at Chris as Chris stared at the floor. "Somethin' goin' on?" he asked anyone who cared to answer.
Chris raised his head and moved back to sit on the dresser near the door. "Just wonderin' where JD and Josiah are."
"Probably roundin' up the last of the Nichols family."
"Any idea how many of 'em went down?" Buck asked, nearly staring a hole through the gunfighter.
"Peter Nichols is wounded, I got him in the leg," Chris said. "Josiah winged the old lady, but it didn't look too serious."
"I took out the one at the livery when I swiped the coach. He's down for good," Vin added.
"I got one of 'em in the street, and I'm pretty sure Josiah shot one outside the saloon," Nathan said as he worked to clean and dress the large holes in Ezra's stomach and back.
"That's three dead and four alive," Vin said, "plus the old woman."
Chris stood and walked to the window. "We need to get that rig outta sight and hide the horses. That family has a twisted sense of justice and they're probably still looking for Ezra."
"And you," Buck pointed out.
"Yeah, and with three of 'em dead, the ones left are liable to be a whole lot meaner," Vin stated.
"I'll take care of the coach," said Chris, reaching for the door.
"Like hell you will." Wilmington moved abruptly and bumped the hand from the doorknob.
Chris stumbled back, looking at his friend as if he'd lost his mind.
"You're the first man on their list of folks to kill. I'll take care of that armored wagon down there, you just stay here."
A look passed over Larabee's face that lay somewhere between anger and worry. There was also an instant of pain, but it passed so quickly Buck thought he might have imagined it.
"I'll be back soon. Just keep an eye out," he said in a softer voice, "and look after Ezra."
Chris looked at the gambler and suddenly felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He paled and secretly wished his hands would stop shaking. He tucked them out of sight, took a long deep breath, and frowned at Buck. "Alright, go, just watch your back."
Buck smiled, walked out the door and shut it. Once he was at the bottom of the stairs, he leaned on the building and shook his head. He hadn't missed any of the things Chris had tried to hide — the flashes of guilt and pain, the haggard look on his face and the tremors that visibly ran through his body. He was in shock and had every right to be. Ezra had been tortured, Hank had been killed, and all those memories of Sarah and Adam had been mercilessly dredged up to remind him of his past. It all sickened Buck to the point he'd personally like to go find a nice quiet place and puke his guts out, but Chris, he was trying to keep it together, remain in control. Buck doubted he could do it, but he couldn't help admire him for trying.
TBC