Larabee and Standish were untied from the tree, and their legs undone to allow them to walk to the horses. Although he couldn't believe what he was doing, Ezra stopped briefly to pick up what was left of the biscuits. He ate one, and then started to offer the other one to Larabee, but the big brutish fellow knocked it out of his hand and pushed him towards the mounts.
Both men were exhausted: no food, hot days, cold nights, and very little sleep were starting to take their toll. Ezra hoped that Larabee was formulating an escape plan, but his own mind was too tired and preoccupied with his empty stomach to even attempt such a thing. "Lord, I hope we don't have to ride all the way to Texas with these miscreants," he thought to himself.
Chris remained stoic and silent. He had no idea how he was going to get himself and Ezra out of this predicament. Maybe they would be able to escape once they got to wherever their destination was, or maybe they were going to be killed immediately. Who knew?
He looked over at Standish, and green eyes met green. He wanted to apologize to the gambler for dragging him along. Ezra's expensive clothes were filthy and torn, and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of their lack of sleep and care. Ezra must have seen the look of pity, for he quickly said, "trust me Mr. Larabee, you don't look any better."
Ezra didn't know if Larabee had slept at all in the three days since they left Four Corners. He himself had gotten a couple of uncomfortable hours each night, but at least all of the times he was awake – the darkly-dressed gunslinger was as well.
It was around noon when the group came upon a farm out in the middle of the desert. There was nothing else around for miles, but someone had built a large house/building and fenced in about 5 surrounding acres. As they got closer, they saw a fair number of men mulling about, and then at the same time Chris and Ezra both saw something shocking.
They looked at each other, eyes wide and questioning. Running around in a back lot of the property was Sam Miller, the 6-yr-old boy missing from Four Corners.
Nathan rode hard and arrived in Johnson's Bluff at about 4 o'clock the next afternoon. It was a tiny town, so he easily found the boarding house. Buck was right to call for him; Vin was in bad shape.
Over the last few days at the Indian village, the healer found combinations of herbs that alleviated some of the symptoms. He wasn't sure if this was even the same sickness, but he figured it was worth a try. With Buck's assistance, they propped Vin up and got a cup of Nathan's tea in him. Nathan then gave the sick man a small amount of laudanum, so he could rest without coughing so much.
It was a rough night for all involved. Finally, close to dawn the next day, Tanner's fever broke, and blue eyes stared at the two men standing worriedly over him.
"How're you feelin', Vin," asked Nathan.
"Tired," was the honest reply.
Nathan understood, and told Vin that "you're gonna have to take it very easy for a few days."
"Buck, why don't you grab some breakfast and then try to get some sleep. I know you're probably exhausted," Nathan said appreciatively to the ladies' man.
"OK, Nate. I'll bring you back something to eat and maybe try a little mush for Vin?" Buck questioned.
"Yeah, we need to get some food in him. He's definitely down a few pounds, and he didn't have many to spare to begin with." Nathan smiled teasingly at Vin.
"I'll get back home and eat some of Nettie's apple pie, and I'll be right as rain, Nate." Vin laughed. It was nice to see Vin smiling and joking, but unfortunately it also brought on a nasty coughing fit. "Go on Buck," Nathan said. "I got him." Nate held Vin up until the coughing subsided.
"Like I said, Vin, it's still gonna take a few days," Nathan could already tell that Vin was tired of this illness. The former slave feared that Vin was going to be itching to get back on his horse come tomorrow morning.
Ezra and Chris were untied, forcefully pulled from their mounts, and shoved through a gate into the compound. The guards marched the two men at gunpoint to an area in the far northwest corner of the fenced property, where they were greeted by a larger group of men.
"Welcome home, Russell," an old man said and then hugged the escaped convict.
"How are you, Dad?" the younger Storm replied. "Thanks for sending the boys to get me."
"Yeah, it looks like everything worked out well. You seven fellows played right into our plan," the old man said as he looked at Larabee and Standish. He continued, "Lucas James and I go way back, and he has been keeping me up to date on you boys since Lucy moved up there."
Chris started to put all of this together in his mind, and he began to get angry that they'd been had by this old man. "Let me guess, Lucy's maiden name was Miller?"
"Well now, you're finally catchin' on. Lucas told me that you and your boys were smart and tough, but you know – it don't really seem that way to me," the senior Storm went on, "strip 'em down boys; let's see how tough they are without their guns and get-up."
Two men approached each of the peacekeepers and removed their coats, their shirts, their hats, and even their boots. They did not remove their pants, "thank heavens," thought Ezra, but they were patted down to make sure there were no hidden knives or other weapons on them. Ezra was horrified at the thought of the other boys finding their dead, naked bodies lying somewhere in this God-forsaken desert.
"Would you look at them now," old man Storm laughed. "They ain't nothing but a couple of scrawny fellers. Big, bad Larabee don't look nearly so tough without his guns and black get-up."
Chris and Ezra's bindings were removed and once the men stepped away, Chris charged at the old man….his anger getting the better of him. Storm reached behind him and grabbed a long piece of wood and whacked the charging Larabee upside his now hatless head. The sound was sickening, and Ezra gasped as Larabee crumbled to the ground. The gambler was scared that the old man had just killed their leader.
Josiah finally felt comfortable leaving the Indian village and heading back into town. Only two folks were still feverish, and Rain and the other helpers were confident that they could take care of them. They would send someone to town if more tribe members got sick. The villagers were lucky; only one old woman died from the fever, and the others were recovering quite well. Josiah admired the folks in the village; they were good people, they worked hard, and they had faith….what Josiah wouldn't give to have that kind of faith again. Being around the villagers and his 6 fellow lawmen helped lift his spirits tremendously over the last few years, but he had lived through too much – saw too much pain and suffering to return to the more optimistic attitude of his youth.
"Speaking of youth," he thought to himself. He hoped JD was doing fine with everything back in four corners. He spurred his horse on a little faster to find out.
A shot to the head as hard as Larabee suffered could easily crack a skull, but Ezra was relieved when he saw that Chris was still breathing.
The gambler in Ezra made him a patient man, so he decided to wait for a more opportune time to attack. That all went out the window, however, when the old man whacked Larabee again with the board – this time across his back and ribs. A couple of the other men starting kicking him as well, and by then Ezra had enough.
Ezra grabbed one of the men by the back of his hair and threw him out of the way; he then laid his own body across the prone gunslinger. Ezra looked up at the crowd and asked, "What exactly do you gentlemen want with us? You already have your criminal son, and the boy, who I presume is your grandson."
Storm smiled, "Why, I want to humiliate you boys and teach you a little lesson. You've caused trouble for my son, my friend Mr. James, other ranchers, and we're all tired of your holier than thou attitudes up there in Four Corners. We didn't want to fight all seven of you to get my boy back, so we used my grandson as a bit of a diversion." The man was clearly pleased with himself, and he continued to smile as he told the men, "throw 'em in the pit. We'll see how tough they are….or aren't in next couple of days."
One man pulled Ezra up and shoved him along to the back corner of the property. Two other men followed dragging Chris. Ezra saw "the pit" just as they approached. It was a massive hole in the ground – at least 12 ft. deep and wide – covered with a grate. The accommodations were similar to those in which they found Larabee a few years ago when he was taken to a prison camp as Inmate 78, but on a much larger scale.
A door in the grate was unlocked and opened, and as Ezra peered over the edge, he was shoved hard and landed with a thud 12+ ft. below. He landed on his left arm and immediately felt his shoulder pop out of joint. He also felt blood running down his arm and noticed a 3 or 4 inch cut just below his shoulder. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating, and he did not notice the men shoving Larabee down in the hole until he heard another thump a few feet away.
A few minutes later, a canteen, some hardtack, and a little dried meat were thrown down the hole, but Ezra hurt too badly to get it or check on Larabee. The pain made him feel sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes and wished that he never got involved with Larabee and this bunch.
As the sun was beginning to set, Ezra awoke to an unfamiliar noise. He winced at the pain still shooting through his shoulder and opened his eyes to see Chris Larabee stirring a few feet away. He hoped this was all a dream, but alas – it was very real.
"Mr. Larabee, are you awake?" Ezra asked. No response, "Mr. Larabee."
After a few more grunts and groans, the blond man responded, "What the hell?"
"Hell indeed," said Ezra. "I would suggest that you move slowly. You were hit in the head with an enormous board and have been slumbering ever since."
"Well, I guess that explains the headache," Larabee replied as he gingerly sat up. He moved closer to the wall to support himself for a minute while the room stopped spinning. He fingered his head wound and only felt a little bit of dried blood, so he figured he was going to live. He supposed that he cracked a couple of ribs from the amount of pain and energy it was requiring him to breathe, but he had worse injuries before and he knew they needed to come up with a plan soon. Vin and Buck were tracking that same boy, so they could end up in similar trouble if they showed up here looking for them. Hell, for all he knew, they could already be in another pit somewhere.
Chris noticed that Standish continued to lie on the ground and saw the dried blood on Ezra's arm, and asked "are you hurt, Ezra?"
"It appears that I broke my landing into our lovely accommodations with my shoulder," the darker-haired man replied with another wince as he too tried to sit up.
"You dislocated it?" Chris tried to concentrate on their predicament but was fighting an overwhelming desire to lie down and sleep.
"I believe so," said Ezra…..wishing that he was trapped down here with Nathan instead of Larabee.
"If you can scoot over this way, I'll try to pop it back in," Chris responded, although not really feeling confident in his abilities to do so successfully.
"That is quite alright, Mr. Larabee. It really does not hurt that badly," Ezra lied. Right now, he could not stand the thought of the gunslinger roughly tugging and pulling on him. "How are your head and ribs fairing?"
"Sore, but I reckon I'll live," lied Chris as well. If Nathan were there, he would be shaking his head at the two men fibbing about the extent of their injuries.
"I take it that's our latrine over there," asked Chris pointing to a deeper hole dug in the lower corner of the pit. Ezra hadn't noticed it before but looked and shook his head in agreement, "I believe you are correct sir."
Chris stared at the corner "restroom" while wondering how in the world he was going to be able to stand and make his way over there. It had been over 8 hours since they were allowed to see to the call of nature, and his bladder was about to burst.
It wasn't very dignified, but he crawled on his hands and knees until he got close enough then stood slowly supporting himself on the corner walls while he relieved himself. He knew Ezra was likely in the same boat, so he looked over at the gambler and asked, "need some help?"
Chris walked gingerly along the walls over to where Standish sat; he grabbed Ezra's good shoulder and assisted the shorter man to his feet. After Ezra attended to his business, they hobbled back to the other end of the pit. Just as they approached their destination, Chris grabbed Ezra with both hands and slammed his left shoulder into the wall. Ezra's legs immediately gave way, which brought Larabee down as well, and they toppled into an ungraceful heap on the floor.
Ezra screamed as loud as Chris ever heard a man scream, but then went completely silent. The blond crawled over top of the gambler, thinking he had passed out. Larabee was greeted with Ezra's hand shooting up and grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling with all his might.
Chris reached up to try and prevent his hair from being pulled from his scalp, and Ezra simply said, "Thank you Mr. Larabee, but if you ever do that again I will kill you." He then let go of the dark blond hair and both men lay unmoving on the ground for a few minutes.
Ezra's shoulder was back in place, although still very sore. He finally gathered up the meager food and water rations, and he and Larabee shared dinner.
Not long after, the exhausted men collapsed into a cold and uncomfortable slumber, neither having any idea what was in store for them or how they were going to escape.
Josiah made it into town late that evening and found JD still at the jail. Josiah smiled proudly to himself when he saw the boy asleep at the desk propped up on his elbows. The large ex-preacher walked over and gently nudged JD's shoulder, so as not to startle him.
"Huh," JD said as he opened his eyes.
"Hello, John Daniel," smiled Josiah. "How are things?"
"Uh, things are fine Josiah. Just catchin' a quick nap before I head out on patrol," JD replied as he stood up.
"I'll take patrol, JD. Go on and get some sleep," Josiah said as he pushed JD out the door of the jail. Josiah knew that the poor boy had been trying to keep an eye on the town and take everyone's patrols for the last few days so likely had no more than an hour or two of sleep at a time.
"You gotta be tired from helping at the village, Josiah," JD replied feeling guilty.
"Folks out there are doing much better, and I was able to sleep last night." Josiah wasn't being completely truthful, but he knew JD really needed a break.
"Thanks Josiah," JD responded gratefully. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."
"That you will, son. Goodnight."