ON YOUR HORSES, BOYS
Part 8
"Hey Buck, wait up," JD called when he saw the ladies man making his way up the clinic stairs, his arms full of confiscated weapons.
Wilmington turned, visibly relieved to see the young peacekeeper. "Glad you could make it, JD. Where've you been?"
"I'll tell you all about it inside. Need some help?"
"Yeah," Buck grunted as he handed over part of his load.
"How's Ezra? Did you get him to Nathan okay?"
"He's up there but he's in bad shape. On top of everything the Nichols did to him, he was shot."
"Shot? How?" JD asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
"It was Hank. He wandered out of the saloon and came after Chris meanin' to kill him. Ezra must have seen what he was up to because he threw himself in front of Chris when Hank fired the gun."
"My God, how much more can he take?"
"I don't know. Let's just hope Nathan can help him."
"Well where's Hank now?"
Buck shifted uncomfortably. "He's dead. The man who whipped Ezra killed him."
"And Chris, how's he doin'?"
"I think he's kinda numb, just doin' what he can to keep going. Come on, we need to get up there."
JD followed Buck up the steps, all the while scouting the area for any signs of the Nichols. The two men entered the clinic, dropped the guns in a corner and turned to see their friends gathered around the decimated body on the exam table.
Chris spoke first. "JD, you and Josiah alright?"
"We're both okay. Josiah's back at the jail keepin' an eye on our new prisoner, John Nichols."
"John?"
"Yeah, the youngest of the bunch. He broke his arm when you grabbed Hank off the street before you left. Nathan fixed him up, but now he's gone and broke his other arm."
Jackson looked up for just an instant then went back to tending Ezra.
"It's alright, Nathan. Josiah said he was leavin' it up to you whether or not you wanted to take care of him. He's fine just like he is and I think Josiah might be tryin' to make him see how stupid he's been… not that it'll do any good." JD leaned to look around the gunfighter. "Is Ezra gonna be alright?"
Chris put a hand on the gambler. "He's gonna be fine."
Nathan looked up again to stare at the gunfighter. The man spoke with such certainty even he believed it. He just hoped Ezra was listening.
"What about the rest of the family?" Vin asked.
"We're pretty sure three of them got away, probably with their ma. We haven't seen any signs of 'em, but I have a feelin' they'll be comin' back for the one we got in jail. And the way they crave revenge; I don't see 'em passing up a chance to come after those who crossed 'em," JD said, unconsciously eyeing both Chris and the man twitching beneath the healer's hands.
"No one's gettin' to Ezra," Chris stated firmly. "We watch him 'round the clock." He stood up slowly, a little too slowly Buck thought, and walked around the table.
"It's probably best if you stay here, Chris," Wilmington suggested.
"I'll stay here to give Nathan a hand then I'm goin' lookin' for the rest of that crazy family."
Vin noticed an uncharacteristic slur in his friend's speech and an alarming lack of color in his face. When he actually staggered and bumped into him, he knew something wasn't right. "Chris?"
The gunfighter didn't appear to hear his name. He simply brushed aside the hands reaching out to steady him and stepped away.
"Chris," Tanner called again.
Finally he raised his head, a dazed look on his face. "We need to keep the Nichols away from here."
"Yeah, yeah we do," Vin said warily. He glanced at Buck and saw he hadn't missed the peculiar way Chris was behaving either so he motioned for the ladies man to move closer.
The gunfighter's eyes wandered lazily to Nathan. "You ready?"
Ezra groaned as if he knew what was about to happen. Chris bent down to gather him in his arms and carefully positioned himself as a prop behind his back. He then used one hand to wrap around the gambler's waist, and the other to steady his head against his shoulder. The man was beginning to shake in earnest, but he held tight and nodded to Nathan when he was ready.
The healer pushed a bench to the end of the table and situated a large white basin of warm water on top of it. "Vin," he called over his shoulder, "you wanna take him around the knees and help Chris scoot him to me?"
The tracker continued to study Chris worriedly but moved in to help.
Dark hands took hold of Ezra's ankles and together the three men shifted him towards the basin. Giving the men in the room a look of 'here goes,' Jackson gently guided the bloody feet into the water. The instant Ezra's tattered flesh was submerged he jerked in Larabee's arms, twisted his face away and groaned pitifully against the lawman's chest.
"Easy, Ezra, easy," Chris said softly near his ear and pulled him closer.
"P-please," he answered, and the gunfighter realized it was the first word he'd spoken since he'd been shot.
Nathan continued to hold his feet under water and Ezra began to squirm.
"Please stop," he pleaded again. "H-he's gone… Chris is… gone."
"I'm right here, Ezra," Larabee replied with a conviction he didn't truly feel. There was an odd detachment building around him. His brain and body felt out of sync, as if one were slowly disconnecting itself from the other. But he stayed put and held on despite the numbness he felt creep up his arms and into his shoulders.
"No, no… Y-you won't find him." A slow, anomalous smile crept across his face and lingered there several moments before he began to frown. "Nathan?"
Jackson looked up from the basin at the sound of his name.
"Don't… don't hit him… I-I'll do what you want," he choked out. "Nathan? Oh, God… w-what are they meaning to do… knife, they've got a knife."
"Oh shit," Nathan said worriedly when he realized what his patient was talking about.
"What?" Tanner asked.
"He thinks he's back in the hotel, being cut again. Here, Vin, take over for me."
The tracker quickly stepped in as Nathan moved up the table to seize his friend's head between his hands. "Ezra, you listen to me, all right? You're safe, the Nichols are gone."
Chris felt the Southerner push against him as he tried to retreat.
"Noooo," Standish cried.
"Ezra, you have to listen to me, you're safe."
"Chris?"
"Chris is fine. I just need ya to calm down and let me help you."
"T-they'll… kill… him," he said amid panted breaths.
"No, Ezra. They're gone," Nathan insisted.
The gambler struggled to free himself but found his arms restrained and his head trapped. It slowly filtered through to his brain he was once again being pinned down, so he used the only thing left to him, his feet -- he pulled them free of Vin's gentle grasp and attempted to climb away from his captors. It was the last thing he should have ever tried. The glass shards sank deeper into his flesh as his wet feet skidded across the tabletop, and brutal stabs of pain were sent up into his legs. He bucked and screamed as the agony passed through him.
Everyone in the room moved forward as Ezra tried to escape. Nathan grabbed at his legs, Vin forced his hips down and Chris worked to keep him from leaving the table altogether. The battle to subdue him went on until suddenly his entire upper body jerked back, sending his head and elbows into the person directly behind him. Buck heard Chris respond with a sharp intake of breath and a muffled gag. The lines around his eyes and mouth deepened and what little color his face had held instantly drained away. He was in pain, real pain, and was gritting his teeth against a cry of his own. He kept one arm around Ezra but quickly relinquished the other so he could shove a fist against his side. Vin saw the move and jumped to take Ezra away from him.
Buck reached Chris just as he wrenched himself free and staggered to the footboard of the clinic bed. "Chris, what the devil is goin' on with you?" he cried.
"Nothing," he stammered, "it's nothing." He stooped at the waist, braced himself on the mattress and clutched one hand to his abdomen.
"Like hell it's nothin'!" Buck stepped beside his friend and tried to turn him. "Chris, look at me."
The gunfighter pulled away and began walking towards the door. "I'm fine, it's just a banged up rib. Take care of Ezra… I'll walk it out."
Two or three steps later, Buck saw something fall from Chris' hand and land with a dull splat on the floor.
He scooped it up and immediately recognized it as a piece of the blanket he'd torn in the coach; it was soaked through, heavy with blood. "Rib, my ass, since when do banged up ribs bleed?" he said, holding the cloth for Vin to see.
Tanner cautiously laid Ezra flat to the table and stepped aside as Nathan took over his efforts to ease the Southerner's pain. He was reaching to take what Buck was holding when he saw Chris' head fall back and his knees buckle. The two men rushed to catch him as he toppled over and crumpled to the floor.
Buck slid beneath his friend as he curled across his long legs, groaning and still trying to argue.
Vin tugged at the fist he pressed to his side. "Let me see."
Chris squinted up at him with unfocused eyes, dropped his hand and allowed the tracker to dig through the layers of clothing.
When Vin pulled the tail of his shirt up and the waist of his pants down he discovered what his friend had been hiding -- a bullet wound. "Damn, when did this happen?" He grabbed a clean towel from the stand behind him and pressed it to the gaping hole.
Events began to line up in Buck's mind and he knew exactly. "When Ezra was shot," he mumbled.
"What?"
"Hank was aimin' to shoot Chris, but when he fired, Ezra got in the way." Buck looked up at Vin in disbelief. "The bullet that went through Ezra… went into Chris."
TBC
A/N: This bit's for you, Winnie! I promised you a little Chris-abuse and I always try to keep my word. I'd love to know what everyone thinks of the story so far! Don't be shy-- talk to me!