Inez Recillos glanced up quickly when they blew through the bat wing doors. They were four men moving as one. The smile growing on her lips faded when she realized these were strangers without the same dynamics, the same oneness she'd hoped to recognize. No, these men were acquaintances, not friends. Their single-mindedness was merely to get some sort of alcohol to quench their thirst.
Bannister led his men toward the bar. Tiny clouds of dust erupted where they slapped their hats against their jackets and shirts. They had almost outrun the sandstorm blowing in from the desert. Now they were ready to wash the part they couldn't outrun out of their throats.
Inez served them their beers and went back to wiping down the bar.
The four men strolled to a back table where they could watch the goings-on in the smoky room. It wasn't long before Foster pushed his way through the doors. He got a bottle of whiskey and joined the others.
Bannister's body language didn't change, his hooded eyes gave nothing away, but he practically hissed at Foster as he joined their table. "What the hell happened?"
"You tell me. Everything was goin' 'xactly like he said it would, then, in the middle of the night, they light out like hell's own fires were chasin' them."
"How many left out of here?"
"All four."
"How'd they find us?" The 'Possum fretted.
"They tracked you down?" Foster barely remembered to keep his voice down. That wasn't supposed to happen.
"Two tried to run us to ground." Perkins volunteered. Foster looked surprised.
"The other two must've gone lookin' for Wilmington and the gambler. If they find 'em-"
"Ain't no way... Blake, we left 'em half dead…"
"What about The Kid?" Foster demanded.
"We had him with us." Possum blurted out quiltily.
"The gambler told the brat where his stash was hidden." The bear added as a way to defend their actions.
"Then where the hell is he?" Foster demanded.
Foster glared at Bannister for the answer. Bannister met his eyes, but he stayed silent. They said he knew they had messed up but wasn't ready to admit it.
The Possum couldn't bear the silence, his tone asked for clemency he sensed he would be needing, "Larabee came over a dune at us! With that wild Tanner beside him!" He whispered, but there was desperation in his tone, and a hint of a child telling of seeing demons when he was alone in the woods. "We'd a died a thousand deaths if'n they caught us!" He paused, wanting one of the others to finish the tale as if that would prove to Foster they were all equally culpable.
Bannister stared Foster down in silence. The Bear was concentrating on drinking as fast and efficiently as possible without making eye contact with anyone. It was left to Possum to confess the final details, "We kicked The Kid off his horse, it started draggin' him. Larabee and Tanner stayed back to stop that horse."
"Was The Kid dead?" Foster asked coldly.
The Possum swallowed hard, shook his head as he shrugged, "Ain't no way of tellin'."
"The Kid. He can pick you out if he lived." It was a statement, not a question, low and vicious from Foster.
"Larabee'll gut shoot us, Blake!" The Bear's voice began to rise. A sharp look from Bannister brought it back down to a whisper as he continued, " That damn tracker'll stake us out over a red ant hill and coat us with honey." His words gave way to his need to drown his thoughts. He'd been paying close attention to Buck and Ezra's comments about their friends. He was well aware of Larabee's reputation.
"We lived up to our part of the bargain." Bannister finally spoke in their defense.
"We've got our money." The 'Possum stated. He and the bear were both beyond hinky about sticking around. They were terrified. Even if The Kid was dead -especially if he was dead - they feared the ex-bounty could smell their guilt on them.
"Let's get while the gettin's good." The Bear volunteered.
"What are we waiting for?" It came back to the 'possum.
"The gambler's money." Bannister responded with grim determination.
Greed and understanding registered for 'Possum and Bear.
Foster frowned. "I don't know, Pal, we got…"
Bannister quickly redirected the conversation. "I was one of the 'soldiers' at the POW camp. That's where I met the Boss."
They'd all heard the stories about the renegade Union officer's who had tried to hold so many Southerners responsible for war crimes. Bannister didn't elaborate on the fact that he, like most of the others, had been in it as an easy way to plunder the countryside.
He met each man's eyes before he continued. If greed wouldn't convince them, Bannister would try another tact... one that motivated Bannister himself more than he cared to admit. "Larabee and his gang hunted us down clean across the country, outnumbered as they were, nine or ten to one. And that was just because we had threatened some of 'em. If we've followed the Boss's orders and killed some…" He let the other's imaginations fill in the rest. "Our best bet is to take 'em out. Kill 'em all before they can figure out who we are. Otherwise they'll never stop looking for us. 'Specially with Wilmington and Standish dead by our hands."
The others were clearly hesitant.
Bannister looked around to make sure no one could hear him. "We wait and see if the boy lived. If he did, we grab him when he gets back to town and make him show us where the money is. If he didn't make it, well, the others won't know have gotten a description of us from him then, right? That will give us time to ride out if we don't panic. But if he lived, we gotta take him out. Otherwise he'll lead the others to us no matter where we go..." Bannister waited for them to let this sink in.
"How much money the gambler got socked away?" Foster asked. It was the first he'd heard of this development, but like the boss said, he caught on fast.
"Enough to make it worth our while." Bannister baited.
"I don't want to be lookin' over my shoulder for the likes of Chris Larabee the rest of my life." 'Possum offered up. "Better see him dead, now."
"Tanner's got a $500.00 bounty on his head. We play these cards right, we'll be rollin' in money." Foster grinned, showing his tobacco-stained teeth. He had gotten a taste for this manipulation his boss had introduced him to. With what he'd been told about these men, he was sure they could figure out a way to kill them all. "Hell, maybe we should rob the damn bank on the way out of town." His grin got even wider.
There was no doubt that the sand had completely recreated the face of the desert. But the changes were too subtle for the human eye. Vin Tanner, who had trained himself to notice the smallest detail, was the possible exception. The tracker wasn't interested in the brilliant sunset that was promising them a clear day tomorrow, much less how the blast of the sand had eroded still more of the obelisk-like outcropping that sheltered them.
Vin was, however, very aware of his two unconscious friends and that Nathan was doing everything he could to keep them alive.
He knew exactly where Chris was and that he was using the opportunity and need to build a fire and heat water to distance himself from the drama. Vin had no doubt that his best friend was terrified that one or the other of the men would succumb to their condition and was steeling himself for a loss he wasn't certain he could endure.
And then there was JD. Every time anyone moved or took a step back, they ran into the young man who hovered so near. He wanted to help but was afraid to do the wrong thing.
"I don't understand." JD offered up.
Nathan backed into and stumbled over the boy as the healer once again moved from Buck to Ezra.
"Sorry," he muttered meekly, as doe brown eyes watched Nathan try to be two places at once. And he said no more, again concentrating on staying close but out of the way.
Ezra trembled with chills and yet the dark healer directed Josiah to soak the blanket that covered him with water. Vin mirrored the religious man's actions by drenching the blanket covering Buck.
JD could see the fine tremors wracking his best friend's body as well. But in addition, the tall gunfighter was trying to curl in on himself and unconsciousness was giving way to some sort of delirium. "Nathan…"
"Get over here, boy." Nathan ordered. That one needed something to occupy his mind.
JD jumped to comply. Nathan thrust one of his knives into the other's hands and a flat, one-foot long spear-like leaf of aloe vera in the other. "Do what I do." Nathan cut the tough, outer skin of the suculent away from the transparent flesh below. The outer concave part of the leaf formed a natural container. He cut into the meat of the plant and mashed it into a gelatinous, semi-liquid state.
JD did the same trying to ignore how horribly slimy the stuff was and the grassy, bitter smell.
Nathan took both of the succulent leaves. "Split all the rest of the aloe. Soften it all up." JD nodded and began repeating the process.
"Chris, leave that for now. Vin needs help with Buck."
Chris determinedly moved from where he had just put water on to heat and joined the others. The closer he came to joining the others, the more hesitant was his step.
"What's wrong with them? They were awake, talking..." JD was too worried to let things drop.
"JD," Nathan replied patiently, "Their bodies had all but shut down."
"They're freezing and you're pouring water…"
"The chills are from shock not cold. From the sunburn." The gentle fingers lightly layered the aloe vera on Ezra's shoulders.
The plant's membrane, the consistency of jelly, melted into the fiery skin and the weepy, broken blisters like butter into a biscuit. "There is no moisture... water... sweat...we've got to get their body temperatures down and moisture back into them."
Suddenly Buck jolted and tried to curl up into a ball. "Nathan!" Vin called, not knowing what was happening or what to do.
"Hold him, Vin."
It was Josiah who got to him first, grabbed the big man and held him as he wrapped his arms around his belly and pulled his legs up to his chest. The preacher held him but let him stay in that position as it seemed to offer some comfort or relief from the sudden pain.
"Cramps." Nathan said.
"It will pass, Buck. Ride it out." As his men were ministering to their friends, Larabee focused beyond his anger by focusing on every detail of what was happening. He was thinking about what he would do to the men who caused this.
"Mr. Wilmington?" Ezra's weak voice questioned what was going on.
""He's got cramps." Nathan repeated. "Vin and Josiah are tending to him. What about you?"
"Headache. Thirsty."
"Upset stomach? Think you can hold some water down?"
Ezra nodded. "I don't understand. We are still in this God forsaken wasteland?"
"'Fraid so. You gotta rest up before we move."
Josiah lost his grip on their rakish comrade who seemed to try to crawl away from the pain.
Vin reached out and even in a semi-conscious state, Buck pulled away.
This broke Larabee from his emotional paralysis and he moved in to help hold his old friend. "Buck, c'mon, Big Dog, take it easy." The gunfighter took Josiah's place. "Best let him sit up 'til he settles." Larabee muttered, almost to himself and he settled the younger man against his shoulder.
Josiah and Vin exchanged a smile at this quality of their leader they so rarely saw; the part of him that kept Wilmington so loyal; the part of him they all sensed cared about them above the gunfighter's own safety.
Ezra tried to look over to reassure himself that Buck was there. "He has a head wound, Mr. Jackson."
"I know, but he woke up for Chris earlier." That seemed to remind him of something. "Chris, that water hot yet?"
"Warm."
"That'll do. I need a cup for both of them." He drizzled more water on the blanket around the gambler.
JD left up like a skittish colt, so anxious was he to get the water; to do something to help. "C-cold..." Ezra admitted.
"I know." Nathan explained, knowing the information could keep the gambler from any panic or thinking the worst, "it's partly 'cause the night is coming on. That and your body's in some shock from that sunburn and it's got you chilled." He patiently explained for the fourth time what was going on with the gambler's body.
Ezra tried to push the wet blanket away. Nathan stopped the gambler's hands. "We've got to get your body temperature down. Get you dehydrated." He got close to his friend's face to emphasize the seriousness. He carefully rubbed some of the aloe across the damaged lips. "Don't fight me on this. It's too important."
"I envy Mr. Wilmington his unconscious state. I have never been so singularly miserable in my life." He slumped forward to avoid touching his enflamed skin to any surface. The rough blanket was torture in itself. He tried one last time to push the cover away but Nathan brushed his hands back as he spoke to JD. "Put some salt in each cup."
Ezra interrupted him. "Please, the cover is too…"
"Gotta stay, Ezra. I'm sorry. I know it's painful." His voice was truly sympathetic as he handed two large chunks of the aloe to their youngest. "Dissolve this in there, too."
Dunne took the plant and did as he was told.
Josiah handed another leaf of aloe to Chris. He rubbed it as gently as he could onto the parched lips of the man he was supporting.
JD had stopped dissolving the aloe vera and salt to stare at his weak, unconscious friend. There was a sad, small, lost look in his eyes that looked out from the long, dark bangs.
Vin glanced up and noticed. He stood and took the temporarily forgotten aloe vera leaf from the younger man. "Let me show you how well this works." The frontiersman started to rub it on his young friend's shoulders, under the shirt.
"No!" He pulled back quickly. "You have to save that!"
"We've got plenty."
"We were lucky to find so much. And bringing the extra pony kegs of water because we brought the extra horses... I could almost see God's intervention in saving our friends." Josiah said, almost to himself, but there was something bothering him.
"Drink this." Nathan said to Ezra as Vin took the concoction from JD and finally handed it to their healer. Ezra greedily drank in the liquid, only to spit it out. "God Almighty, Nathan, are you trying to poison me?"
"I know it's bitter…"
"I refuse.…"
"Drink it or I'll damn well choke it down you." Nathan's voice reflected his concern and how important the liquid was.
"Please, Ezra," JD pled, "Nathan says your body can still shut down... you're real sick."
Ezra met Nathan's eyes, "When this is over we will have to work on your bedside manner." His drawl was much thicker. He was tiring himself out. Nathan smiled, thankful for the sarcasm. His friend was asleep almost before he finished the restorative.
Nathan carefully cleaned and put a thin strip of bandage around the graze along the smaller man's ribs. Something had to be done to keep the dirt out, but it would rub that burn something fierce.
Nathan finally moved over to help Chris and Josiah get the liquid into their other friend and rewrap the broken left hand.
When he took off the tattered bandages, it became clear all over again how red and tortured the skin was compared to the toasty brown shade of the hand that had seen a lot of outside work and protected from the desert sun by the bandage. It looked pasty white in comparison…
Nathan thought back on that night, a few short hours ago, and how for that brief time they had all worked together for the common goal of keeping their group together. He looked at the back of the wagon and hoped it would be that way again.
They had set the unused saddles on end and draped the blankets over them. With the horseshoe nails they all carried, they had secured the blankets over the saddles and wagon sideboards to afford some shade for Ezra and Buck.
Buck had his head leaning against one saddle to avoid touching his tender skin to any surface. His eyes were unfocused and lost.
Ezra was propped on one shoulder and didn't miss the look. When he caught the healer's eyes, they knew they were both trying to think of something to say.
Finally, despite his greatest effort, and an unspoken fear that if he closed his eyes, they would never open again, Ezra fell into unconsciousness.
How could things have gone so badly so quickly?