Instinct, more than observation, pushed him up from the chair by the fireplace. He still had his book in his hands. He cast aimlessly about the line shack for a sign of what disturbed him and, finding nothing, stretched his legs and approached the window. A late winter storm came in and dropped piles of snow and the cold wind crept into the shack through chinks in the daubing and a small, whistling crack in the window glass. Outside, in the snow, two horses.
"Wasn't expecting ya for another day, Joe," Candy greeted, braving the cold in only his shirt. His friend, leaning against his horse's flank, wavered. "Joe?"
"-fine," the man muttered, almost inaudible. "Mmf fine."
"Apparently you're not." He took Cochise's reins from Joe's hand and gave him a soft clap on the shoulder. "Get inside, there's coffee made."
"Horses 're wet," Joe slurred. His eyes were half closed, his cheeks flushed.
"I'll take care of them." When Joe didn't move, he said, "Joe you're sick. Get inside."
The horses' legs were wet and shining in ice, and ice flashed and peppered their manes, their eyelashes, the hair of the ears. Joe pushed off Cochise's flank and wavered, and when it looked like he might not make his next step, Candy caught him. Cold and wet seeped through his thin shirt.
"Horses are wet, God damn, Joe," the cowboy scolded. "You can't be out like this."
"Wh-where was I s'posed to stop, granny's cabin?" Joe muttered back, fumbling through the snow under Candy's support. "Spare the lip 'n share you're coat red riding hood."
His strength left him when they crossed into the line shack. He felt the first waft of warm air and sank to the floor. Candy tugged him up by his armpits, frog-marching him to the chair he'd left minutes before. The fire's glow glinted across Joe's damp hair. His skin was as cold and hard as a corpse and his whole body trembling.
"Dammit Joe," Candy muttered, "dammit, what'd you do, go swimming?"
"Took… tumble into. Into creek," his words grew faint.
"The creek? The creek is five miles away, how long were you out like this?"
He was plucking Joe's shirt buttons free before he finished asking. His fingers were chilled and beginning to numb, and he tugged frantically at sleeves, collar, shirt back, peeling away layers of cold wet cloth. He found a dry towel and dragged it, a little too roughly, across Joe's torso.
"Ow, ow."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Here, stand up," He lifted Joe to his feet. "We gotta get you dry, stand up." Joe's legs wouldn't catch. He buckled, and Candy lifted him and tried again to the same results. "God. Fuck."
In the chair again. Candy's heart raced. He tugged at Joe's boots, his socks, unbuckled his belt and tossed it aside, and he was blushing hotly but there was no time for decency and he said,
"Joe, I need you to shuck your pants." Joe's head sagged against his chest. His fingers only twitched. "God dammit Joe I'm not unbuttoning your pants." No movement. His breathing was very slow. "Fuck, fuck fuck."
Out of his pants, out of his longjohns, naked on top of the bed- Candy dragged the bed with Joe's limp weight on it away from the wall and nearer the fire. He tried not to touch bare skin as he dried him, but he did and he did it roughly, and hastily, and he could tell that it hurt.
"Sorry, " Candy muttered, but Joe wasn't whimpering anymore. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," and he tugged dry blankets all around Joe's body and tucked them in- under his sides, between his legs, around his neck.
Joe was still. The cabin was silent but for the pop of the fire and Joe was very, very still. Candy touched his face. Cold, still. He touched Joe's neck, laid a hand on his chest, but his fingers were cold and numb and he could feel nothing. He leaned across Joe's body and put his ear to his chest but his ears were ringing and he heard nothing, and as a last ditch effort he put his lips to Joe's temple. Faintly, slowly, he felt warmth. Faintly, slowly, he felt Joe's heartbeat. Alive. Candy released a shaking breath and rested his forehead on the other man's temple. Alive. Alive for now.
Candy dug through crates and boxes for extra blankets and found only one. He layered it over the others, and then his jacket over it all, and looked at the still open door and the horses crept up into the doorway like beggars in the light.
"Yeah, I know. Gimme a minute."
He left Joe his coat and hurried out in the cold. His own horse whinnied from a low stone barn, and he couldn't get Cochise and the pack horse in it quick enough. He threw down hay and filled buckets with grain, and chipped through the freezing water in the troughs. He dried the horses' legs with grain sacks and stripped them of their tack and rubbed sweat from their backs, his hands cold but his body warming with the heat of the animals.
He was warm, he didn't need to be warm, Joe needed to be warm god dammit- he couldn't escape the horses fast enough. The walk from the barn to the line shack was short but brutal. Gusting winds blew down new swirls of snow. His hands throbbed. When he closed the line shack door against the cold air, he went immediately to Joe's side, and watched. Faint, faint breathing. Slow, faint breathing. He touched Joe's head but his hands were still icy and they told him nothing. His fingers combed through Joe's hair. It was drying, it was drying, that was good. He pressed his lips to Joe's forehead again. Warmer. Just barely warmer.
Candy tried to quell his panic. Joe was warming. His heart was beating stronger. His breathing more regular, but still he slept. Maybe it was for the better. Maybe he needed the sleep. Still the man's face looked very, very still. Candy shucked his boots. He watched Joe's breathing, barely visible across the room.
"Can you hear me, Joe?"
When first he spoke his voice cracked and he tried again. Joe didn't stir. He could wake him. Get coffee down him. Warm him from the inside. He approached Joe's side and tapped him, patted him, shook him hard, and was rewarded with only a whimper.
"You're gonna make me do this, ain't ya?"
Joe didn't answer. Candy felt his cheeks heat. His jeans were wet and so were his shirtsleeves so he pulled both off and stood in his longjohns in front of the bed. Joe's eyelashes rested delicately against his cheeks. He looked pale, even in the low light.
"You're gonna make me do this."
Candy slipped between the layers of blankets and stretched out his body alongside Joe's. Side to side, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and Joe was still cold, frighteningly cold, so he draped his arm over the man's chest, tucked his face into the cold neck, and tried to think warm thoughts.
When he felt Joe stir, there was light coming through the window. He had not slept. Candy lifted himself on one elbow and without thinking pressed his lips to Joe's brow. Warm now, feverish almost.
"C-Candy?"
He pulled away. Joe's eyes were open. A blush crept across his face under those bleary green eyes. They flicked down to Candy's mouth, back up to his eyes.
"I. I." Candy flushed so hot it made his ears ache. "I'm sorry." He fumbled to get out of the blankets but they were tangled in his legs and his legs tangled in Joe's, and by the time he was on his feet his entire body was red and his pulse racing. "You were cold."
"I'm still cold," Joe said. There was a look in his eye Candy couldn't interpret, and wouldn't, wouldn't look at him. His shirt was dry, and he tugged it on without buttoning it.
"I- I'll heat some coffee. Can you keep some coffee down?"
Joe's eyes never left him. "Yeah. Yeah I think I can."
Joe never took his coffee with sugar but he sounded so weak Candy thought he could use the extra energy. Until he dumped too much in, and scalded his hand, and nearly dropped the cup altogether on the floor and he stood cursing himself by the table while Joe, still too weak to move watched with that unreadable stare.
"Candy?" He looked up. A small smile across Joe's face.
He needed help sitting up. The blankets pooled around his belly and he shivered in the morning air. Candy put coffee in his hands and pulled a quilt up around his shoulders. Joe's eyes were on him and Candy looked at everything in the room except for him.
"Y' look like you could use this mor'n me," Joe's voice was still a slur.
"You need the warm."
"You need the coffee."
"I'll get some later."
Joe sipped. Grimaced. There was too much sugar but Candy told him to suck it up. Quiet. Candy fretted with the hem of his shirt.
"I was checking your temperature."
Joe watched him.
"Like my mother used to."
No words.
"That's all."
The words sounded weak even in his own ears and he amended them with a, "I was worried about you." That at least was true.
"Candy." He felt like a child being scolded but Joe repeated his name and he looked. His friend's eyes were warm. He smiled gently. "Thanks."
A pause.
"You wanna check it again?"