ON YOUR HORSES, BOYS

Part 31

"Sarah," Chris mumbled as he pushed away the icy, wet cloth being held to his face. "Sarah, 'm c-cold."

"It's alright," she answered gently.

"Why's it so cold?"

"Hush now."

He shivered when the cloth came to rest on his chest. "No… stop," he complained and tried to move away.

"Lie still now, we're trying to help you."

"W-we?"

A large hand and a familiar voice stopped him from rising. "Yeah, buddy, we."

"Buck?"

"Right here. Why don't you settle down and listen to Mrs. Hobson."

"Who?"

"Mrs. Hobson."

"Where's Sarah?"

There was a long silence before he decided to see for himself where his wife had gone. He forced his eyes open and shifted uncomfortably when he noticed two shadows floating above him. "What's goin' on?" Wilmington's face came into focus.

"Take it slow, Chris, you're hurt and you're sick."

"Hurt?" He was beginning to feel foolish asking so many questions then he felt the growing ache in his belly and began to recall the past few days.

"You got shot, remember. The wound's got fever in it and it's makin' ya sick."

He pushed away the blanket covering him and fingered the bandage around his middle. "Hank," he said flatly.

Buck watched the sadness in his friend's eyes return as he remembered his father-in-law's death. He also saw the overwhelming disappointment on his face when Chris identified the woman at his side.

"Mrs. Hobson," he said, a little embarrassed.

She gave him a kind smile. "It's good to see you awake."

He tried to smile back but failed miserably. "How long?"

Buck sat back in the chair he'd pulled beside Chris' bed. "You've been out of it for almost two days now." He noticed the gunfighter's eyes wander. "You're in Ezra's room. The clinic was burned pretty bad in the fire the Nichols' set so Nathan's takin' care of ya here."

"W-where are they?"

"The Nichols? Most are dead. Two of the boys are back in Eagle Bend."

"And Ezra?" He was almost afraid to ask.

"He's alive."

He knew there was something wrong. "But?"

"He's fightin' a fever even worse than yours. Nathan's doin' all he can, and he keeps tryin' to tell us Ezra's strong, but I can tell he's more worried than he's lettin' on."

Chris heard the sound of water splashing and men talking. "What's happening?"

Buck leaned back so he could see around him. On the far side of the room Vin, Nathan and Josiah were huddled around a large bathing tub, all leaning over its edge and all holding on to a limp, semiconscious Ezra. "We've been tryin' to bring his fever down by putting him in cool water and feeding him lots of Nathan's teas."

"And it hasn't worked?"

"Not like it did with you?"

Chris shot him a look.

"You were pretty bad off yourself for a while, pard. Fortunately we only had to hold you in the tub once before we got your fever down enough to put ya back in bed. This is the third time for him."

The gunfighter stared at Ezra's black and blue face. "He ain't movin'."

"No, he fought us pretty hard when we first cleaned him up, and even managed to smack Vin in the face the second time, but now the fight's just gone outta him."

He rolled to his side and propped up on his elbow. "Can't let him… give up," he said around a harsh breath.

"We won't let him give up, you can count on that. He's had someone with him every minute keepin' an eye on him. Nathan's even beddin' down on the floor so he'll be close if he takes a turn for the worse."

Chris watched Josiah support most of Ezra's weight as Vin held his head up and Nathan washed him down. The only outward signs the gambler was still alive were the twitching in his slackened jaw and the occasional blink over his watery eyes. He wondered how much Ezra was aware of. Did he understand his body had literally been ripped apart? Did he realize he was being held, bare and broken, underneath water cool enough to drink? Did he understand his friends were struggling to save him and were willing to do whatever it took to keep him breathing? He stared at the bruised face as long as he could, willing Ezra to hang on, praying he would make it to see another day and then fell back to his pillow in exhaustion. His eyes tried their damnedest to roll back into his head before he squeezed them shut and groaned in frustration.

Buck put the wet cloth Madeline handed him to Larabee's reddened face. "There ain't nothin' you can do, Chris, so just get some rest. When Ezra does wake up he's gonna need to see you in one piece so he'll know he didn't do battle with those bastards for nothin'."

Wilmington's words had the desired effect – Chris was stunned into silence. He knew his friend was right, and after a few moments stopped trying to shove the cool rag away and allowed Buck to do what had to be done. He pulled at the blanket he'd pushed to his hips and dragged it beneath his chin. Despite the burning fever he still felt like he would freeze to death, but at least he was alive. And that thought stayed with him until he finally fell asleep.

M7M7M7M7M7M7

It was the next day before Chris' fever broke and two days after that before he could manage to sit up on his own. In that time, he'd seen Ezra's condition go from bad, to worse, to slightly better than dead, and never once had the gambler made a sound. It was similar to the way he was back at Nathan's clinic, but this time the man barely even breathed. It was unnerving before, it scared the crap out of him now.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and carefully stretched the muscles in his back. He was weak and slow to move, but at least the pain in his belly had been reduced to a dull throb instead of the raw hurt of the past few days. He rubbed a hand over his face and realized the scruffy stubble of beard was gone. He tried not to think on who had cleaned him up; it was embarrassing to have such intimate things done for you while you were unaware. When he looked down the length of his body he realized he had more than personal hygiene to feel uneasy about – his clothes were gone. Well damn. He shook his head anxiously and scanned the room for his pants. He spotted them across the back of a chair, clean and neatly folded. It was dark out and the room was dimly lit, so he decided now was probably the best time to retrieve them without being seen.

He slid slowly forward until his feet touched the floor. With a deep breath and a clenched jaw, he forced himself to stand and walk across the room. Taking the pants from the back of the chair without falling over was one thing; putting them on was something else altogether. He dropped into the chair with a huff and leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Just what do you think you're doin'?"

He looked up to see Nathan standing over him, arms crossed, face creased with worry. "I need… my pants," he gasped.

"Why? You goin' somewhere?"

He thought about it and decided he really hadn't planned on leaving. "Back's hurtin'," he answered simply.

"I don't doubt it after your tussle with Buck and Vin yesterday."

"What 'tussle'?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow before his face softened and he answered, "You really don't remember, do you?"

"What?"

The healer uncrossed his arms and moved closer to the chair. "You tried to leave yesterday. Said you were goin' after the Nichols and nobody was gettin' in your way. You almost made it past Vin, but Buck came in about that time and the two of 'em wrestled you back into bed."

Chris groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Sorry."

"It's alright. It was probably the medicine I was givin' ya makin' ya crazy. But you really do need to stay down a while longer."

"My back hurt's from layin' around so much," he said into his hands. "I need to get up and move around."

Nathan took pity on him. "Tell you what. You can have your pants back, and I'll even let you sit in a chair for a while, but don't be tryin' to go anywhere on our own. And when I do tell ya to get back in bed, don't argue, understand?"

Chris eyed him suspiciously; the healer was being too agreeable.

"Understand?"

He muttered a pitiful 'yes' and Nathan helped him with his pants.

Leaving Chris to his moment in the chair, Jackson went to the bed in the middle of the room and checked on Ezra. The gunfighter raised himself onto shaky legs and followed. "Chris." The way Nathan said his name definitely held a warning.

"I hear ya," he answered. "How's he doing?"

A dark hand felt Ezra's face. "It's hard to tell. His fever's down some, but he hasn't come to since we got him back."

"I thought I heard someone say he punched Vin."

Nathan gave a little grin. "He did, but he didn't know what he was doin'."

"I suppose he'll come round when he's good and ready. You know Ezra, he does everything in his own time."

Jackson didn't seem convinced. "Maybe," he said, his shoulders sagging.

"When's the last time you slept?"

"I got about an hour last night."

"Well how about you rest a while and let me watch him."

"No, I'm fine. Josiah'll be back soon. I'll rest then."

"You might as well get some sleep now. I ain't gettin' back in that bed 'til the ache is gone in my back and Ezra ain't goin' any place with me playin' watchdog. Lay down. If he needs you, I'll wake you."

Nathan thought about it.

"Or I can wait 'til you fall on your face and then I can sneak outta here good and proper." Chris settled back in his chair. "You just said Josiah'll be here soon."

"Alright, but trust me, if you leave that chair on your own I'll be takin' back those pants of yours and it'll be another week before ya see 'em again."

Chris swallowed hard when he realized Nathan wasn't kidding around, and Nathan knew by the look on Chris' face the gunfighter wouldn't make a move without him. The conversation ended with Jackson returning to his pallet on the floor and Chris grumbling about bossy, know-it-all healers.

TBC

A/N: Thanks to everyone who offered feedback!