TRAGIC MISTAKE

by doc

Part 23

Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington climbed through the rocky terrain in grim silence. Larabee refused to respond to Buck's many whispered attempts to rationalize Vin's actions. Preferring to keep his dark thoughts to himself, the black clad man moved determinedly forward, his anger growing with each step.
For his part, Buck was very concerned about his friend. The ladies man had seen a tremendous change in the gunfighter since they joined up again in Four Corners. A glimpse of the Chris Larabee of old, the man who had lived life with gusto before his wife and son were murdered, was beginning to break through the hard protective shield the gunslinger had built around himself.
As much as Buck would like to believe he had a hand in the return of his old friend, honesty forced him to admit that a young, scruffy tracker was the real catalyst of the change. Chris had recognized something in Vin Tanner that he was missing, something that made him complete, and the two had developed an instant bond. A bond so strong that it sometimes appeared almost tangible to those observing them. Vin's strong character, easy going nature and quirky sense of humor had broken through that otherwise impenetrable shield, allowing the mourning, angry man to once again see and enjoy what life had to offer.
Now it looked like all that progress was rapidly unraveling and the mustachioed man didn't know what to say or do to prevent the destruction of his friend... so he followed the obstinate man who was so bent on revenge that he nearly wasn't seeing straight. And prayed that he'd be able to prevent the almost inevitable self-destruction.
Buck was so lost in thought that he nearly ran into the black-clad man when Chris stopped suddenly.
"What?" he hissed, trying to determine what had brought his friend up short.
"Shhh." said the gunslinger, "Listen."
Buck cocked his head to the side and listened intently, "Don't hear nothin'" he replied, "You gettin' somethin'?"
"That's the point Buck, I don't hear anything,'" snarled Larabee, "The gunfire's stopped."
"Think he gave up... or got shot?" asked Buck, trepidation in his voice.
"Let's go find out." ordered the gunslinger, drawing his colt and moving toward the area where they had last heard the gunshots.
+ + + + + + +
Alby Savitch was pressing hard into the injured tracker, crushing him painfully against the large rock as he used his captive's body as a shield from the gunfire below.
Realizing the vicious man was distracted by the return fire, Vin recognized this was probably his last chance and with every ounce of strength left in his tortured body, snaked his right foot back and around his captor's leg. He pulled sharply against the brutal man's ankle and, at the same time, threw his body weight back into the outlaw.
Vin felt himself falling backward as the criminal pulled him down and he landed hard on the unyielding rock. The impact stunned him and forced the little remaining air from his lungs. As he lay gasping, he heard the attacker getting to his feet, cursing.
"SONOVABITCH! 'm gonna kill ya, ya long-haired bastard!" Alby exclaimed, searching for the rifle. "You dun screwed with me fer the last damn time! Where the hell's that goddamn gun?!"
Vin rolled to his side and curled into a ball, instinct forcing him to protect his damaged ribs. cain't just lay here 'n die... he thought, boys need me... the injured man forced his agonized body to move.
Drawing on years of ingrained determination and using a rock for balance, he propelled himself to his knees and then to his feet. Watching the kidnapper's movements carefully, he timed his attack until the man's attention was drawn to retrieving the dropped weapon then launched himself head first at the outlaw's midsection.
Savitch spotted the Winchester, scooping up the fallen rifle with a cry of delight, "HA! Gonna take care a'ya now! Ya been nothin' but trouble to me an' I don't need ya no more..." he turned, raising the shotgun, "gonna shoot ya with yer own damn gu..." his murderous intent was interrupted as the injured man drove into his body.
The force of Vin's attack propelled the outlaw back into the rocky formation. As he fell, Alby drove his fist into the exhausted tracker's ribs. Vin's body continued its downward momentum spinning Albert Savitch and propelling the criminal's head violently into a rock, knocking him senseless. In one final vicious, unknowing act Alby's finger tightened reflexively on the trigger of the sawed-off Winchester.
Vin Tanner had felt pain explode through his body as Savitch's fist impacted with his already torn and bruised flesh, driving the air from his lungs. a tortured groan escaped as Vin again curled his body, trying desperately to contain the paing searing through his ribs and side. The edges of his vision began to cloud and he felt darkness grasping at him when he heard the unmistakable report of his hog's leg. The devastating agony that followed was so overwhelming, even for the tenacious tracker, that his mind finally succumbed to the blackness beckoning him and his unconscious form pitched face down on the unyielding ground.

Part 24

The now appropriately dressed Mary Travis had left Nathan's clinic for the more familiar newspaper office where she was working at type-setting the day's edition of the Clarion. Nettie Wells hovered anxiously about her, keeping a watchful eye on the young woman.
"The paper is really late getting out today... And of all day's, today is the most important! People have to be told that Vin wasn't the attacker." said Mary determinedly, hoping that preparing the newspaper for distribution and reporting the events of the night before would provide a distraction from her disturbing thoughts and the pounding headache that had taken up residence behind her eyes. The blonde woman was grasping at anything that would keep her mind occupied, to stifle the heartbreaking preoccupation with the seven regulators.
"Well, somebody's gotta set 'em straight!" declared the older woman, "The way they're all so quick to believe the worst of Vin! Makes me sick, after all he's done fer this town!"
"Oh Nettie, " Mary said with a sigh, leaning against the printing press, "How are we ever going to refute what they think? You know how opinionated and stubborn some people can be. I just hope that they will read the article I'm putting in the Clarion and realize what a terrible mistake has been made."
"I hope it works too dear, the people of this town can be thick headed as mules. And you know that some never have accepted the fine things those boys do. They only see their rough outsides."
"Well, if I have my way, they're going to listen!" avowed the determined young blonde. "We've made too much progress to go back now! And accusing an innocent man is definitely going backward!"
Turning back to the press, Mary began to set the blocks for the headline "LOCAL WOMAN ATTACKED BY DRIFTER" but before she could run the first sheet, Thaddeus Weston rushed in the door.
Both women's heads flew up at the sudden entrance of the wire operator, they knew instantly that he would only come in person if he had an important message.
"Miz Travis! Got a wire here for ya from the Judge! Say's Billy had a fall..." Mary Travis snatched the telegram from the excited man, her heart skipping a beat as she heard his words.
"OH NO! Billy's hurt?" she exclaimed, swiftly scanning the document, "Orrin says he had a fall from his pony and they think his arm may be broken... Oh dear... I'll have to go to him right away!"
Turning pleading eyes to the older woman, "Nettie, will you help me pack? If I hurry, I can get on the evening stage.. I'll be with my son by day after tomorrow."
"Of course dear, you lock up and we'll go up and pack yer satchel." the older woman said reassuringly, "We have at least an hour 'fore the stage is due. Thank you fer bringing over the wire Mr. Weston, we appreciate your concern but I can handle it from here."
Clearly dismissed and realizing that there was no more excitement to be had, the telegraph operator tipped his hat and headed back to his duties while Mary Travis and Nettie Wells went about the task of preparing the young widow for her journey. Their worry's for the seven lawmen abruptly driven from their minds by the concern for the young child.
+ + + + + + +
An eerie silence blanketed the deeply shadowed rocks as the two men made their way up the rocky incline. The sudden report of Vin's Winchester shattered the quiet, causing the men to dodge for cover behind the rocks. They waited expectantly for further sound that would give them a direction to aim. But their patience was rewarded only by a return of the oppressive shroud of silence.
With a glance and a nod, Chris Larabee and Buck Wilmington moved to resume their ascension up the moonlit rocky precipice when the unexpected sound of movement behind them had both spinning around, guns cocked and aimed.
The four men rushing up behind them came to an abrupt halt at the sound of the pistols cocking. Throwing their hands in the air they each identified themselves in a quiet rush of words.
"Whoa Brother! Don't Shoot!" hissed the preacher, confident in the men facing him, knowing they wouldn't shoot without being certain of their target.
"I say gentlemen; please don't be hasty in distributing your bullets. I am quite innocent you know." reasoned Ezra Standish quietly.
J.D.'s voice rose an octave and was tinged with fear when he saw the two amazing gunmen draw down on him, "Buck! Don't shoot! It's me!" his whispered exclamation directed to the man he viewed as a big brother.
"Easy now, it's just us. No need to go off..." Nathan said, his frustration evident in his quiet tone. The healer desperately wanted to inform Larabee that Vin didn't attack Mary but he feared, given the gunslinger's current sentiment, that his words would fall on deaf ears. He just prayed that when the truth finally hit the gunslinger, it wouldn't be too late...
Buck just shrugged as Larabee let the hammer down on his colt and turned from the men without a word. Determination evident in every movement of his lean body.
With a collective sigh, the five men fell in behind their leader, eyes keenly alert for any signs of movement. Stealing silently through the rocky terrain, the six men finally reached the place where the ambush had been launched.
Chris Larabee was the first to enter the small hollow, leading with his colt, searching for the man who had lain in wait to slaughter him and his friends.
Murky shadows had long ago settled around the determined men, but fortunately a cloudless sky and the the lowering sun provided sufficient patches of light to distinguish objects. Larabee's attention was immediately caught by the body of a man laying against the rocks, blood already matting his hair.
Without a second's delay, Nate knelt by the man's side and placed two fingers along his neck. "Think the pulse is there, but it's real weak...." he said, tearing the injured man's shirt open to lay a hand on the unmoving chest, dismay seizing his heart.

Part 25

Mary Travis paced the boardwalk, waiting impatiently to board the stage. The natural anxiety of a mother whose child is injured growing every minute.
"Why doesn't the stage come, it must be late by now!" she exclaimed to Nettie Wells who was her companion during the wait.
"You need to calm yerself Mary. Wasn't too long ago you were attacked and knocked unconscious." replied the older woman, concern for the young widow evident in her weathered features.
"I'm fine." Mary said firmly, "Just a little headache. It's Billy I'm worried about! I need to be with him!" stepping to the edge of the boardwalk, Mary glared up the street, willing the stage to appear. "Where is that blasted stage?!" she demanded.
As if the driver knew continued delay would be met with bodily harm, the stage appeared at the edge of town, traveling swiftly to the designated stop. The driver hauled back the reigns bringing the horses to an abrupt halt and announced to the passengers "Short stop, Four Corners. Hurry up now, I only got 10 minutes to unload and get on the road again.
"Finally," sighed Mary, turning to give Nettie a quick hug. "Thank you for all your help, Nettie. Now don't worry about me, I'll be fine." she reassured the older woman.
"I know dear, you just let me know how Billy is as soon as you can."
Mary Travis climbed aboard the stage, the telegram from Judge Travis clutched tightly in her hand and all thought of exonerating Vin swept from her mind.

Part 26

"Who the hell is he?" demanded the blond gunslinger, giving the stranger's body a kick to assure himself that the man posed no threat.
"That's what I been tryin' to tell ya!" exclaimed Nathan Jackson in frustration, turning from the man he'd been assessing, "THIS is who attacked Mary! Weren't Vin at all..." Nathan finally allowed the anger building inside him to break loose as he prepared to dress down the exasperating man, "But yer so damn stubborn... ya wouldn' listen ta reason! Now with this'un probably dyin', we got no help findin' out what really happened!"
"NATHAN!" J.D.'s frantic shout interrupted the healer's diatribe, snapping all their heads around as they sought the reason for the boy's cry.
Calling again for Nathan as he moved, J.D. rushed to the side of the bloodied body of the tracker he'd discovered laying in the shadows.
"Don't move him!" yelled the healer, as he followed on the boy's heels. Dropping to his knees beside Vin, Nathan gasped at the sight that met his eyes.
The younger man was laying on his stomach, his face all but obscured by bloody curls, his hands tightly bound behind his back. Nathan was dismayed by the dark stains of blood on the tracker's clothes and hair. Gently, the healer lay his fingers along the bloodied throat and expelled the breath he'd been unconsciously holding when he found the pulse. Weak, needs ta be stronger, he thought to himself, but least it's there.
Nathan did a quick check of Vin's breathing, and while shallow, he felt it was sufficient to sustain the tracker's tenuous hold on life. He spoke softly to the injured man, hoping he would somehow know they were there, "It's alright now Vin, yer friends 'r here, ain't nobody gonna hurt ya no more."
Without turning to the anxious faces crowding around him, the healer set about doing what he could for the badly injured man.
"J. D, give me ma' bag and git me some water." he barked, knowing his orders would be followed.
The young easterner jumped into action, grabbing the healer's leather satchel from where the black man had dropped it , and shoving it toward the focused healer.
As he turned to retrieve a canteen of water, J.D. glanced at Chris Larabee, curious about how the man was taking the unexpected turn of events. The gunman's appearance stopped the young sheriff in his tracks.
"Buck... you better look to Chris!" he called out to his friend, snapping the ladies man from his stupor.
"Whoa, stud!" Buck exclaimed, as he grabbed the swaying man's shoulder and guided the unresisting gunslinger to the ground. "You best sit before ya fall!"
Chris Larabee was thankful for Buck's helping hand. He'd felt like his life's blood had drained from his soul when he saw the battered and bloody body of the tracker. Oh my God, he thought, self loathing sweeping over him, How could I have let this happen? I thought he betrayed us...should have believed in him... Should have trusted him... I did this to him!
As he sat in dazed shock on the hard rock watching Nathan tend anxiously to his gravely injured friend, scenes from the times he'd spent with the younger man flashed behind his eyes in lightening bolts of anguish. In vivid detail, as each beat of his heart pounded in his brain, he relived the times they had ridden together, fought side-by-side, and often just sat in silence. The unspoken, indescribable bond telling each everything they needed to know about what the other was thinking.
Now as he watched in mute horror Nathan Jackson's frenzied struggle to save the tracker's life, realization struck the cold-hard gunfighter with the force of a physical blow.
Realization of what he'd had and what he'd so thoughtlessly and cruelly destroyed

Part 27

Pulling a knife from its sheath, Nathan Jackson carefully attempted to remove the rough rope securely binding Vin Tanner's arms. Struggling with the stiff fibers that dug deeply into the sharpshooter's swollen wrists, the healer prayed silently that his efforts would not result in his causing further injury to the already damaged flesh.
After finally succeeding in severing the coarse threads, the healer slowly positioned the injured man's arms at his sides and gently turned his buckskin-clad friend on his back, wincing at the pain he knew this movement would cause and thankful that Vin was unconscious.
Next, Nathan turned his attention to the tracker's face. Tenderly brushing the long, bloodied curls away, the battle-experienced healer was nearly sickened by the amount of damage he found; the handsome face was a mass of red and purple bruises, the blue eyes were swollen shut, a large gash above his right eye was bleeding freely and numerous smaller cuts were adding to the gore.
"Here Nate," said J.D., the young man having rushed to the horses to grab canteens of water from each. He now stood over the black healer, thankful that he could do something to help his injured friend, but frightened by the appearance of the man closest in age to himself.
Glancing over his shoulder, Nathan was surprised that J.D. had gotten the water so quickly, "Thanks J. D." he said, distractedly.
Grabbing a canteen strap and quickly uncorking the precious liquid, Nathan dampened a clean scrap of cotton from his kit and wiped blood from the unconscious man's face, trying to determine the extent of his injuries.
"Gotta good gash on his forehead," mumbled Nathan, more to himself than to the men anxiously listening, "Lump on the side of his head too. Account fer his bein' out cold..."
Continuing his survey, the gentle man ran his hands across the injured man's shoulders. He sucked in a breath when he felt the torn buckskin and the warm blood on his fingers. "Damn!" He exclaimed in dismay, "I think he's shot!"
Chris Larabee's head flew up as he heard those awful words 'I think he's shot...'
Oh God, despaired the man in black, Did I shoot him? Even if I didn’t, I’m still responsible...
Pulling his knife, Nathan cut away the torn shirt and examined the large bleeding wound just below Vin's right collarbone. With a silent prayer, Nate anxiously checked Vin's back. The healer breathed a sigh of relief when he found a corresponding injury. "Thank God fer that," he mumbled, "Least I don't have to go diggin' around in 'im."
Glancing up, Nathan caught sight of the pain in the gunfighter's eyes and knew with a flash of understanding what was going on in the complex man's mind.
"Ain't yer bullet Chris! Don't even be thinkin' it!" he demanded, realizing that he had to make the suffering man understand quickly, "He'as shot from up close. Big bullet and it went right through. Ya'll was too far away, yer bullet woulda stayed in, made a smaller hole." With another quick glance at Chris to see if his words had sunk in, realizing the man couldn't handle any additional details about his best friend's condition - specifically that he’d been shot in the back - Nathan turned back to trying to save Vin Tanner's life.
With both hands applying pressure to the wounds, Nathan turned to Josiah for help.
"Josiah, git in my bag and give me bandages and carbolic." Nathan's voice was edged with fear as he took in the enormity of the damage the young man had suffered, knowing he had yet to find all of the injuries. Desperation clutched at his heart as he worried that his skills and experience might not be enough.
"Ezra, you got that flask on ya?" he demanded.
"Yes Nathan, but I deeply regret that it is empty." replied the gambler sadly.
"Damn! I gotta git this bleedin' stopped... got nothin' to clean it out with... no time fer boilin' water.." he muttered to Josiah as the preacher supported the pale, motionless body. Hoping that the inevitable infection would hold off until they got Vin back to town, Nathan quickly poured water from the canteen into the gaping wounds, washing them out as best he could and then liberally sprinkled carbolic in. Pressing a pad of clean cloth in place, he glanced up at the anxious face of the big man helping him, "You best start prayin' J'siah..." Nathan said quietly.
"Already am, brother" came the firm reply. The preacher had seen lots of injured men in his time and he knew just by looking that the still, colorless tracker was in a bad way.
Between them, Nathan and Josiah managed to get the unconscious man's shoulder tightly bandaged. Only then did Nathan feel he could move on, searching for the other injuries he knew he would find.
The compassionate man ran his hands over Vin's ribs, wincing at the broken bones his sensitive fingers encountered.
Next his gentle hands encountered the large gash just below the tracker's right ribs. The experienced healer could tell quickly that the laceration was older than the other injuries, the edges had already begun to redden and swell, taking on the angry look of an untreated injury. This must be from last night in the alley... he thought, realizing that his earlier assumptions had been correct. Lost a hell of a lot of blood jus' from this alone...
As the healer began to clean the dried blood from the inflamed injury, his initial rush of adrenaline began to fade and his spirits sank. How'm I ever gonna take care a'all this? Out here, with nuthin'... he worried dejectedly, his anxiety increasing as the tracker remained totally unresponsive to the intense pain he was causing.

Part 28

Chris Larabee was floundering in a bottomless pool of despair. Self-doubt warring with self-loathing. The former gunfighter had always considered himself a fair man. Sure, he'd made mistakes, big ones, but since Sarah and Adam were murdered, he'd guarded his soul carefully, putting up an impenetrable fortress, effectively keeping everyone at a safe distance where he could view them dispassionately and assess them accordingly.
Until Vin Tanner. Now it seemed they were both going to pay dearly for Chris's mistake. For letting Vin into his life had to be a mistake. What else could hurt this badly?
As the horrified man watched Nathan's desperate efforts to save his best friend, Larabee felt as if his own heart was being torn form his chest, so intense was the pain. I did this to him... Bullet didn't need to come from my gun... his conscience screamed. I should have trusted him!
Unable to sit any longer, the man in black flew to his feet, and turning from the tragic scene before him, headed for Pony and escape from the torment.
"Chris! CHRIS!" exclaimed Buck, chasing after the fast moving man, "Where th' hell ya think yer goin?"
"Somewhere I can't hurt him no more." growled the distraught gunfighter, his steps never wavering.
Catching up to his old friend, Buck Wilmington reached out his hand and grabbed the man's arm. He spun his friend back around to face him and planted his feet squarely in front of the snarling man.
"Chris, you can knock me down if ya want and git up on yer horse and ride out'a here but that ain't gonna help Vin." asserted the ladies man, "I know yer hurtin', feelin' guilty, Hell, we all are! But right now Vin needs us all to stand by him, so when he wakes up he'll know we know we were wrong!"
"If he wakes up Buck!" snarled Chris, "You saw him good as me. You saw what I did to him! And you know well as I do that he got shot 'cause he was tryin' to save our sorry asses!" Turning back toward Pony, Chris added disgustedly, "For what? So his friends could chase him down and finish him off..." The gunfighter stopped beside his horse and leaned his head into the warm shoulder, "God Buck, what am I gonna do if he dies..." Torment evident in the softly spoken words.
"Aww Chris, don't talk like that, Vin's tough. He's survived worse. We just gotta stand by him." Buck silently prayed that his words were not spoken in vain.
Pulling himself to his full height, the gunslinger turned quickly on Wilmington, self-loathing again slamming into him. "And if he does live? What then Buck?" he spat out," Vin don't give his trust easy and I think we all 'bout destroyed any hope of him stayin' on with us!"
Chris was too angry and upset to realize the import of the words he had spoken but the meaning was clear to his old friend. Vin's friendship had made a world of difference in Larabee and if Vin lived only to ride out, Buck didn't think the blonde would survive the loss.

Part 29

"Done all I can..." Nathan Jackson pronounced dejectedly, having tended to Vin's many injuries. The former slave was no doctor but, because of his war experience and studying everything he could get his hands on, he knew more about healing than most. And while he knew that his friends appreciated his skill and dedication, they also understood and accepted his limitations. This knowledge didn't offer any comfort to the compassionate man. Vin was his friend and he'd done all he could and the words were bitter in his mouth as he expressed what he was sure was his failure to the anxious men standing by him.
Having made Vin as comfortable as possible, the black man stood, stretching his cramped back, and glanced at his friends, dreading the time when he would have to tell them what he was certain was an admission of defeat. He simply couldn't do any more for the tracker and they were so far out of Four Corners...
"Me'be if I had 'im in the clinic... " he mumbled to no one in particular, "me'be then he'd have a chance... but not out here... lost too much blood, beat up too bad..."
"Then we'll get him back to town, brother." asserted the firm, deep voice of Josiah Sanchez.
Suddenly realizing that he had spoken his thoughts aloud, Nathan turned to the other men, seeing his fear reflected in their faces.
"Not sure he'll make it, Josiah. Hell, I cain't even stitch 'im up 'til I git them wounds cleaned out good. Brought my kit with me but I wasn't 'spectin nothin' this bad."
"He'll make it." replied the preacher firmly. "How do ya want to move him?"
Looking hard in the big man's face, Nathan felt hope unfounded by fact rising in his chest. "Aw'right! If there's any way to get him back, we're sure gonna try!"
"Tell me what to do, Nate!" exclaimed J.D. The youngest member of the seven was anxious to help, to take action, to do something!
The healer turned startled eyes on the youth who he'd forgotten was there. "Get me all the bedrolls ya can find, we gotta keep him from gettin' any more chilled than he is." he replied, his fire returning with the reminder that he was not facing this alone. "We're gonna hafta ride him back with one of us. Nothin' here to make a travois out of and 'sides, he couldn't take all that bouncin' 'n rockin' over the hard ground, it'd jus' open up them wounds I jes' wrapped up."
With a quick nod, J.D. rushed off to the horses again, grabbing up all of the ever-present bedrolls while Nathan tried in vain to get a few drops of water into the unresponsive tracker. His efforts went unrewarded as the precious, life-saving liquid dribbled out of the slack lips. Fearing that Vin would choke, Nathan was forced to surrender to his friend's unresponsiveness.
The healer took advantage of J.D.'s absence to quietly express his concerns to the preacher, "J'siah, he should woke some by now, this don't look good at all."
"I know brother; all we can do is keep trying. Vin's got a strong will, has to to've survived as long as he has on his own. He'll pull through." Josiah understood better than he would admit how bad the situation was and he wasn't certain if he was trying to reassure the black man or himself, he just figured if they didn't acknowledge the near hopelessness of Vin's condition, somehow it wouldn't be true.
J.D.'s return brought the conversation to a halt and the men swiftly wrapped the motionless body in several bedrolls.
Scooping the blanket wrapped tracker in his strong arms, Josiah gazed directly into Nathan's eyes, his message of hope loud and clear, "You lead the way, I'll get him back to Four Corners." avowed the big preacher, and turning, he followed slowly behind his friends, walking carefully down the rocky hillside toward the waiting horses.
+ + + + + + +
Chris and Buck were wrenched from their uncomfortable silence by the arrival of Nathan and J.D.
"Where the hell is Vin?" demanded Larabee as both men turned sharply toward the small clearing where they had last seen the unconscious man.
Nathan stepped out to block their forward progress, "Hold on now!" he ordered, "Josiah's bringing him down, we gotta git him back to town fast as we can."
"How?" asked Buck, hoping that if the tracker was well enough to travel he wasn't hurt as bad as they'd thought.
"Josiah's gonna ride with him on his saddle." replied the healer, slightly irritated by the questions intruding on his thoughts as he tried to anticipate the affect the movements would have on his injured friend.
"He'll ride with me." stated Chris Larabee firmly, preparing to mount his horse.
"No Chris, he won't." replied the healer, just as uncompromisingly. "I know you want to help but Josiah's got the size 'n strength to keep him in place. I ain't taken a chance on him gettin' knocked 'round. Gettin' him back to town alive is gonna be iffy as it is."
Unused to being challenged, Larabee's first inclination was to insist - but Buck's hand on his arm halted him. Looking into this old friend's face, Chris saw concern etched in the handsome features, "Do it Nate's way Chris. He's the best chance Vin'll have."
Chris looked hard at the healer, searching his face for confirmation of his fears. Nathan Jackson returned the intense look and saw the gunslinger's eyes shutter as the realization of the severity of the situation was brought home to him.
With a nod, Chris Larabee turned toward the approach of Josiah Sanchez and his precious burden.

Part 30

Vin Tanner was lost in a thick, black fog, broken only by excruciating lances of agony. The young man forced his way to the edge of the mist, his muddled mind searching for something - anything - familiar. Drifting on the edge of consciousness, he fought the darkness pulling at him and with groans of pain and dismay, grasped vainly at the awareness floating just beyond his reach. Somewhere in his soul Vin knew that he had left something unfinished and that if he surrendered to the cloying shadows enveloping him, he would fail his responsibility.
+ + + + + + +
Josiah Sanchez rode slowly, his strong arms gently secure around the younger man, his prayers soaring non-stop to his God. The preacher, an ardent student of human nature, was constantly amazed at how each man affected those around them without even realizing it, but even he was awed by the profound effect this quiet, unassuming, scruffy, former bounty hunter had had on so many. Josiah understood all to well the consequences if the tracker should die and he was dismayed by the loss of souls the death of this one young man would cause.
A moan from the injured man pulled Josiah from his reverie.
"Nathan!" he called, bringing the quiet entourage to a halt, as the tracker moaned again.
The healer, who had been riding close to the injured man, pulled up closer still.
"What?" Chris Larabee's demanded over the dread clutching his heart, before Nathan could speak.
"He's moanin'... me'be wakin' up?" replied Josiah, directing his question at the healer.
"Yea, could be, 'bout time too," relief washed over the black man as he thanked God for the sign that Vin was showing improvement, however slight. "We best keep movin', we're just a few miles outta town, I don't wanna risk hurtin' him more by takin' him down an' puttin' him back up."
Receiving a nod of agreement from the stricken gunslinger, and with a reassuring glance at the anxious faces watching their injured friend, Josiah gently kneed his mount forward and the procession of silent men resumed their careful journey home.
+ + + + + + +
Vin slowly became aware of a voice seeping into the thinning black mist. Clutching at the sound like a life-line, the tortured man fought to identify the talker, as slowly a mental image of Josiah Sanchez formed in his confused mind. Josiah? Before he could sort out a question another voice intruded, this one easier to recognize. Chris. he thought, a torrent of regret washing over him. Unable to piece together his disjointed thoughts and understand the cause of the profound despair, the tracker struggled against the black isolation clutching at him.
Focusing all of his dwindling energy on reaching the distant dawn of consciousness, Vin groaned again as wave after wave of agony assaulted him. Through almost super-human effort, he had nearly reached the summit when the powerful oppressive blackness once again snatched him back into the dark oblivion.

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