TRAGIC MISTAKE

by doc

Part 31

Chris Larabee rode in silence, his face set in harsh lines as he reviewed over and over how things had gotten to this pass. With each rehash, the sick feeling in his gut strengthened until he began to feel like he would jump from Pony and vomit out his soul on the side of the trail.
The gunslinger was oblivious to the men riding beside him as he replayed the events of the early morning hours, Dear God, was it just over 18 hours ago when he was feeling better about life than he had in years? he groaned, stunned at how quickly everything had changed. As he relived the horrible scream which had snatched him from his bed, his rage-blind dash into the alley and the sight of the tracker kneeling over the unconscious Mary, he realized how wrong he'd been in his assumptions and how easy it had been to surrender to the cold cynicism he always kept in reserve. Cynicism born from the horrible atrocities he'd seen men commit and belief that it was irrational to put trust in anyone, including Vin Tanner - a man his very soul told him was solid and forthright.
The gunslinger had been hurt too many times in the past to accept easily, too many times to put his faith anywhere, not in Josiah's God, not even in his old friend Buck. Funny, Vin and I are so much alike in that respect... he mused, as he thought of the wary 'too old' eyes of the younger man, eyes that had met his with instant comprehension and acceptance.
Vin... That self-protecting wall of skepticism had shifted slightly when their eyes locked across the rough, dirt track that was the main thoroughfare of Four Corners. An instant understanding and unwavering trust. Maybe it existed because of the hard lives they had led and the losses suffered. Whatever the reason, their trust in each other had seemed unbreakable.
Until just over 18 hours ago.
In frustration, Larabee realized that his thoughts had just led him in a circle. He was right back where he started, able to understand but unable to accept how he could have believed his best friend, brother even, would attack a woman in the dead of night.
Knowing he was no closer to the answer than when he'd begun this exercise in frustration, the gunman pulled up on Pony's reigns and moved closer to Josiah and his fragile burden.
"Any change?" he asked, worry causing the question to be conveyed with unintended harshness.
"Moans every now an' agin". Nothin' other than that." replied the Preacher, glancing carefully at his friend. Josiah could see how ravaged Chris Larabee was by the events of the day. Silently, he continued his prayer for direction in how to reach the suffering man.
"Keep me posted." replied the man in black, kneeing his mount up ahead to where Ezra, Buck and J.D. were riding in strained silence.
"Ezra, J.D., you best ride ahead to town and get things set up at Nathan's." the natural leader directed the men, "Nathan, tell 'em what you need done." With that, Chris rode on ahead, alone.
Grateful for something to do, the two men turned anxiously for Nathan's instructions then rushed off to prepare the clinic for their friend's arrival.

Part 32

Josiah Sanchez kept up a steady stream of soft words to the friend he was gently supporting. Like Nathan, he hoped that in some way Vin would know that he was once again among friends. The big preacher was concerned not only for the tracker's physical state but also for his peace of mind.
Vin had to know that when they were tracking him down it was not as friends but as lawmen. The younger man was certainly experienced enough in human nature to know when people were out to do him harm and there could be little doubt that harm was exactly what was intended, primarily by Chris Larabee.
And this knowledge probably intensified the pain Vin was suffering from their lack of trust ten-fold. And knowing Vin, that wasn't the only thing on the quiet man's mind.
"I know the guilt's weighin' heavy on you, " he said softly, "but don't you be beatin' yourself up about things that can't be undone, you need to be thinkin' on gettin yerself better. We can deal with the rest later."
+ + + + + + +
Vin was once again drifting in a sea of agony. But this time was different, now there was definite movement; he could tell by the constant, excruciating jolts of pain attacking his body in indiscriminate locations and at random intervals, preventing him from mentally preparing for the onslaught.
And it was different because of the comforting sound, his only lifeline to reality. His muddled mind clutched at the soothing tone, using it to distract from the torture his body was enduring. Using techniques he had learned from his time with the Kiowa, he forced the pain from his consciousness, gradually allowing the sound to take on form and texture.
As he relaxed more into the trance of the quiet rhythm, recognition began to seep in. Josiah. he thought again as confusion began to swirl around him, What am I doin' with J'siah?
Struggling to create word from the sound, Vin finally began to make sense of what the preacher was saying, sorting out the words into something resembling information ... things that can't be undone. ...we can deal with the rest later...
The young man's confused mind tried to comprehend the meaning of what he'd heard, What can't be undone? he struggled to understand, using the process to further distance himself from the physical pain. Suddenly a devastating sadness flooded through him, causing his breath to catch in his throat in a heart-wrenching groan, Mary. Flashes of memory began to intrude, something... Mary... blood... oh God... my fault...
A sudden jostling of his agonized body drove all thoughts from his mind as the motion caused him to gasp in pain. His bruised and broken ribs violently protested the sudden movement and in defense of his sanity, his consciousness once again surrendered to the dark cushion of oblivion.

Part 33

The rough town of Four Corners had been maliciously abuzz all day, the events of the early morning hours being excitedly relished and embellished. While these settlers of the new west were accustomed to a certain amount of uproar, the notion that one of the most respected members of their community had been attacked by one of those high-and-mighty seven was too much gossip fodder to let pass.
So the day was wasted, chores left undone as the citizenry rushed too and fro in a frenetic attempt to discuss and dissect the event, mindless of whether they were amassing fact or fiction.
Mary Travis's abrupt departure only added fuel to the fire; rationalizations that she'd left because of a family emergency were quickly discounted. The masses preferred to speculate that the real reason for her swift disappearance was because of fear, or better yet, shame and revulsion from what the long-haired tracker had tried to do - or maybe had "done" to her! Although exactly ’what’ he had ’done’ was anybody - and everybody's - guess.
Everybody except Nettie Wells. The older woman was liked by nearly everyone in town even though most of the regular townspeople just didn't understand her obvious maternal affection for the rough-edged tracker. But even as she stood up to the community and tried to stop the rumblings, she was rapidly dismissed by the bored people bent on further elaborating on the already grossly distorted tale.
By the time the indifferent sun had set and the scant warmth of the day had quickly dissipated into the biting chill of the fall night, the collective opinion of the population who had migrated indoors had turned sharply and venomously against the seven regulators in general.
And Vin Tanner in particular.
As they rode into town, J.D. and Ezra barely noticed the deserted streets. Had they been at all interested, they would have assumed that most folks had retired to their warm dwellings and were going about their usual routines. Given the worry they carried with them, they were not at all interested in the comings and goings of the people of Four Corners.
The two men rode directly to the Livery and, after securing their mounts, strode purposefully toward the clinic above. Thinking almost as one, the New England boy and Southern gambler were united in a single objective; to prepare the clinic for the arrival of their seriously injured brother.
So it was that they were totally oblivious to the growing animosity hidden behind the town's closed doors.
+ + + + + + +
The four tired, troubled men unconsciously sighed in relief when they finally arrived in Four Corners. Somehow they had managed against the odds to get their friend home alive. They all understood that the future was still uncertain and that tragedy could strike at any moment but for now he was alive and he was home and that was all that mattered.

They pulled their weary mounts to a stop in front of the Livery, noting that Ezra and J.D.'s horses were already tethered there, indicating that the clinic at least would be prepared for their arrival.
Nathan dismounted quickly and, brushing past Chris, strode determinedly to Josiah's side to gently lift down Vin's mummy wrapped body.
"I got him Chris, go'on ahead and get the door open." he said, knowing without looking that the blonde man was right behind him. Adjusting his hold on the injured man he turned toward the stairs.
Chris wanted nothing more than to take Vin in his arms, to confirm to himself that his partner's heart still beat, but he knew that it would be better for Vin to allow the healer to care for the injured man. With a quick nod, the gunman stepped back as Nathan had requested, entrusting his best friend to the man's capable handling.
So it was that the men moved quietly up the stairs to the clinic, heartened that Vin had survived the trip and that Nathan could now treat him effectively in the familiar, comfortable surroundings. Hoping against hope that being home would be the magic tonic the man so desperately needed, and totally unaware that they were returning to a very different town than the one they had left such a few short hours before.

Part 34

An obsessed, vindictive man rode slowly toward Four Corners, a smoldering lust for revenge consuming his being and driving him onward.
"Left me fer dead. Them sonsabitches!" he raged, as he determinedly spurred his mount into a wild gallop, the pounding agony in his head like torrents of kerosene fueling the firestorm of hatred ranting in his soul.
"I'm gonna make ya regret ya was ever born, ya bastards. I owe ya double now. Fer Aubrey and fer what ya done ta me!" Albert Savitch shook his fist at the sky as if calling down the very wrath of God on the men who had left him unconscious and injured.
When he'd first awoken, alone in the dark, confusion had reigned in his muddled mind, his splitting headache testament to the crashing fall he'd taken onto an unyielding rock. As memory returned, so too did a nearly overwhelming fury.
He didn't know exactly what'd hit him but he certainly remembered who!
"Yer a dead man!" Alby screamed to the barren land, an image of he tracker spicing through his splitting head. "I might not have much book learnin, maybe not really even much smarts, but I know fer sure ahm gonna punish ya fer ruinin' my plans fer Larabee and leaving me ta die!"
His own responsibility in the affair was easily ignored; after all, he'd just been avenging his brother's murder.
"Goddamn bastards! My fight was with Larabee, y'all wanna git in it, y'all can die too! Hell, ya deserve ta die... yer stupid 'nough ta not make certain I's dead... and even left m'horse! Well, yer gonna pay fer all them mistakes!" the unbalanced man swore to the cold night sky.
As he rode on through the darkness, the malignant man didn't know how far behind the peacekeepers he was, he didn't even know if he'd managed to kill that damn tracker... all he knew was that he would find those men and he would have his pound of flesh. That was the only way to extinguish the horrific inferno now burning from the very core of his body, threatening to consume him in it's destructive power.

Part 35

Nathan placed Vin carefully on the cot and gently unwrapped the bedrolls from around the unresponsive man. The tracker's ragged breathing was both disturbing and comforting - the painful sound of each indrawn breath nearly broke the healer's heart but it also confirmed that Vin was still clinging to life. Nathan prayed that he could keep this friend alive long enough to ease the struggling respiration...
Nathan wouldn't have believed it was possible but, under the lamp light, Vin looked even worse than he had on the trail. Blood coated every part of him and the color of what skin was visible was deathly pale.
Taking a deep breath, Nathan began to assess Vin's many injuries and focused on deciding what needed attention first.
While his breathing was labored, probably because of the young man's damaged ribs, it was sufficient. The bleeding however was a big problem.
The shoulder wound was the most obvious injury and had to be dealt with quickly, but Nathan was also concerned about the older, deep laceration Vin had been carrying since the fight in the alley when he'd come to Mary's rescue. In the light of the clinic, Nathan could see that the laceration was slowly but steadily seeping blood and that infection was threatening to set in with a vengeance.
With Josiah's help, Nathan cleaned and stitched the bullet wound in Vin's shoulder. While the shot had been at close range, the entrance wound on the front had been relatively clean. Stitching the exit wound had given the skilled healer a little more trouble, as he cleaned and sutured the torn skin. When he was satisfied that the wound was safely closed, Nathan turned his attention to the jagged laceration just below Vin's ribs. Fortunately the tracker had taken a glancing blow, so the wound didn't do as much damage as it could have, but it was serious none-the-less.
Nathan was glad his friend was still unconscious as he cleaned the raw edges of the injury and then tightly bandaged the tracker's broken and bruised ribs. Throughout the ordeal, Nathan was pleased that Vin's breathing, although still labored, had remained steady, indicating that he was holding his own against the agony he knew he was causing.
Finally, Nathan turned his attention to his friend's bruised and lacerated face. Josiah had done a good job cleaning away the last of the blood and dirt and after careful consideration; Nathan decided that only the gash over Vin's eye needed stitching.
With a final sigh, Nathan stood from his completed task; satisfied that he'd done all he could and pulled a blanket up to cover Vin securely.
"Well, now it's up ta him." he said, washing his hands in the cooling water basin. " The cold mighta done some good - slowed down the bleedin', I'm hopin' keepin' him warm and quiet and lettin' him sleep will be enough for him to heal himself and pull him through. Nothin' else I can do 'til he start's to wake up some. Then I'll need to get some fluid in him."
"I'll sit with him now so why don't y'all go git some rest? Might have a rough few days ahead of us." Looking around at his unmoving friends he spoke again in exasperation, "Go on now! Git! We both need quiet!"
"C'mon kid, guess the man wants us to leave now." hissed Buck, grabbing J.D. by the arm and pulling him from the room.
"Aww Buck! Le'go, I can walk out without you holdin' on ta me!" squeaked J.D., smacking his friend's hand away. "You'll let us know if anything happens, won't you Nate?"
"Yea kid, but I expect him to be quiet for a few hours now."
"I'll be at the church, brother, if you need me." With a quick final prayer, Josiah turned from the still man on the bed and followed Buck and J.D. from the room, with Ezra following close behind.
+ + + + + + +
After the tired peacekeepers had slowly drifted from the small, rough clinic, Nathan turned to face the remaining stone-faced man, his unblinking gaze locked on the unconscious form in the bed.
The changing sounds around him had gradually filtered into Chris Larabee's paralyzed brain. He slowly realized the room had changed - something had changed. What? fear gripped him as he drug his numb senses back to reality. Giving himself a mental shake, the gunslinger fought the rising alarm and looked around the room, dreading returning his gaze to the bed, not wanting to face the horror his actions had wrought on Vin. Room’s empty... Where is everyone?
Nathan had seen Chris falter and had almost offered his assistance. But then he'd realized in a flash that he could not fix what ailed the dangerous gunfighter. And so he'd left him alone.
But now it was time to act.
"Chris? I sent the other's off for some sleep. You need to go git some rest now, too." Nathan said softly, "I'll look out for him."
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was really only seconds, Chris again focused anxious eyes on the cot, searching out his friend's face, seeking assurance that the young man still clung to life.
Tearing his gaze away from his pale, motionless friend, Chris turned agonized green eyes to Nathan's face.
Nathan's heart lurched at the depth of raw emotion he saw reflected in the stricken green pools. And knowing with absolute certainty what had brought that look on didn't help him any at all. Moaning to himself, he searched his mental files for anything that he might have learned or experienced that he could use to comfort the tortured man. Finding nothing, the healer cursed himself for again failing a friend. In a strange way, he'd been more comfortable dealing with Vin's physical injuries than with the torment he saw in those lost emerald eyes. Healing the flesh is one thing but how c'n I heal a soul? That's J'siah's area!
"Chris, please. I gotta 'nough ta do lookin' out fer Vin. I can't watch out for you too! Get some rest. We'll all be in better condition ta figure all this out in the mornin'."
"You got an extra chair? 'Cause I'm not leavin'." came the decisive reply. That said, Chris Larabee pulled the straight backed wooden chair closer to Vin's side and settled himself for a long, lonely vigil.

Part 36

Morning broke on a bright clear, crisp fall day. With the dawn came the first stirring of the residents of Four Corners. Those with jobs and responsibilities set about their morning chores and prepared for the day ahead. The others wandered out to find like-minds to take up discussion of the previous day's events where they had left off the night before.
Word traveled quickly that the peacekeepers were back and that one of them was injured. Gradually a crowd gathered outside the Livery. Angry faces turned toward the clinic above.
+ + + + + + +
A shaft of sunlight slanting through a window spread across Nathan Jackson's face, penetrating into his sleep-closed eyes. The intrusion of brightness pressed into the exhausted man's consciousness, dragging him from this much-needed rest. With a start, Nathan sat up in his chair, his eyes flying to the motionless form on the bed. He quickly reached out two hesitant fingers to touch the pale throat, seeking the warmth and throb of life. His action was rewarded by the feel of a too faint, regular pulse and skin that was too warm for the healer's comfort.
"Damn, a fever. Expected as much." he muttered in dismay and was instantly startled by the sound of a chair scraping harshly across the wooden floor. Aw hell, fergot Chris was here... he thought, resigning himself to a difficult interview from the black-clad man.
"Well?" snapped the gunmen, his question clipped with concern.
"Well... he's still alive, that's good, still unconscious, that's not s' good and got a fever and that's just plain bad. Other than that, I don't know any more 'n you do." Nathan looked levelly into Chris Larabee's pain-filled eyes, trying to convey the need for calm to the potentially volatile man.
"I'm gonna try and wake him. Gotta get some fluids in, 'specially with the fever catchin' hold of him."
Nathan retrieved a cloth from the tepid water by the comatose man's bedside and bathed the ashen face, noting the fever-flush of color high on Vin's cheeks.
Tapping the warm cheeks gently, Nathan called out to his friend, "Vin? Vin! C'mon now, time fer ya to be wakin' up! Lemme see those baby blues all the gals is fawnin' over..." Taking the cool cloth, Nathan again bathed the bruised, swollen face, "C'mon Vin, you need to drink some water fer me, an' I got some a'that horse-piss tea yer always so fond of."
Nathan's efforts were rewarded by a moan from the injured man, followed by a slight movement of the eyes under the closed eyelids.
"That's right.. C'mon now, you can do it. Jus' fight a little harder." he encouraged.
Hoping that the continued response form Vin indicated a return to some level of consciousness, Nathan glanced at Chris who was standing frozen in place, his eyes riveted on the younger man.
"Chris, get me a cup of fresh water." the healer hoped to pull the man from his misery with the simple request.
With a start, Larabee turned his gaze on Nathan, anguish clouding the green eyes that could strike fear in the most ruthless heart.
"Chris, I need the water fer Vin." Nathan repeated, entreating the gunfighter to abandon the despair he was lost in.
With a visible motion, Chris shook off the shroud of regret and fear that had cloaked his entire being and moved to fulfill Nathan's request.
"Thanks." Nathan accepted the cup and turned again to the man who was finally stirring from the void where he had been existing. Nathan just prayed that the reaction he was seeing indicated a return to life and that his young friend would have the will to face the uphill battle his damaged body would demand of him.

Part 37

Nettie Wells had only intended to be in Four Corners for one day and so had allowed her niece, Casey, to stay alone at the small cabin they shared. After all, the young girl had the Spencer and an old revolver and she knew how to use both.
But given the events of the day and the unsettled atmosphere of the town, Nettie had gone out to the cabin to collect her niece and bring her back to town to await the return of the seven.
If Nettie was concerned when she left Four Corners, she was appalled on her return in the early morning to find how completely and fiercely sentiment had turned against the young men she held in such high esteem.
"Casey, I'm gonna go to Nathan's clinic and see if the boys're back yet. You go on over and get us a room at the Hotel and stay there, you need to try'n get some sleep... "
The young girl instantly bristled at the suggestion and looking in the determined face, Nettie knew there was no way Casey would agree to staying in her room, so she headed off the protest before it could begin.
"... never mind. You best just come with me. And stay close." she said, as she turned toward the livery and the throng of angry unruly people gathering there.
+ + + + + + +
The more militant inhabitants of Four Corners were not happy that the tracker had been brought back to their town. The fact that he was barely alive was immaterial. Mob rule had decided that they didn't want 'his kind' in their midst and they were going to make sure the other regulators were fully aware of their opinion.
Jealous, petty men who resented the way the seven men had so quickly assumed authority over the town propelled the rabble onward. Their insidious whispers and disparaging comments fueling the fires of the weak, who thought they could obtain power not by personality or ability but through the force of numbers.
As the struggling farmers and dollar-a-week cowhands thronged together, each new body served to increase the boldness of the individuals until, as was to be expected, the crowd finally attained imposing proportions.
Bent on impressing their friends with their bravery, shouts began to echo above the crowd.
"Send 'im out here!"
"We know what ta do wi' his kind!"
"Cain't attack a woman in this town and git away wi'it!"
It was through this unruly group that Nettie Wells led Casey, her hand holding tightly to the young girl.
As the older woman pushed her way to the front of the throng, she turned on them, anger sparking from her wizened eyes.
"How dare you?! You should be ashamed of yourselves! After all that boy's done fer this town." Looking out at the sea of stubborn faces, Nettie knew her words were in vain. She'd had too much experience with mobs in the past to believe that she'd get though to them. Her dismay mounted as she saw the hostility in their set faces. Lord, if they git out'a hand they'll lynch that boy... she thought, the feeling of foreboding growing, Where're the rest of the boys?
Turning on her heel, and with Casey still in tow, Nettie rushed up the steps to the clinic, praying desperately that she would find Vin alive and his friends standing by to protect him.
+ + + + + + +
Nathan's attempt to distract Larabee had worked. Giving the gunman an active roll in caring for his injured friend had served to draw that green-eyed terror out of his self-imposed hell. Now Nathan could turn his total attention to caring for Vin without the worry about Chris to fret over.
For his part, Chris was putting is entire heart and soul into bathing Vin's too-warm face and trying to get small amounts of water into the younger man.
Gradually, Chris became aware of a growing rumble outside. It crept into his consciousness like the roll of distant thunder which seemed to advance close and threatening.
Turning questioning eyes to the windows, he was momentarily confused to see bright sunshine reflecting off the glass.
"What the hell is that?" He said, rising from where he'd been sitting as close to the cot where Vin lay as possible and approaching the door. With a quick backward glance at the still unconscious man on the bed, Larabee stepped out onto the verandah and was startled to see the disorderly crowd milling about below.
It was clear from their disheveled appearance that Nettie Wells and Casey had just managed to push their way through the chaotic mass, determination evident in their faces as they ascended the stairs.
"You all right?" he asked the older woman, holding open the clinic door. "Nathan's inside... with Vin."
"We're fine. You best do something 'bout them though." she indicated the street below with a jerk of her head. She'd noticed the slight hesitation in the man's voice and her heart began to pound even harder as she entered the dark room. She nearly missed his next firm words as her eyes adjusted to the change in light.
"I will."
Scanning the streets, Chris saw Buck, Ezra, Josiah and J.D. walking hurriedly toward the clinic. It was obvious to the gunslinger that the men had just risen from their beds and were not happy with what they'd found taking place in the street.
Catching the eye of each man in turn, Chris indicated that the lawmen should fan out around the mob and reign them in.
The sound of guns clearing leather and being cocked brought a sudden hush to the throng.
"There a problem here?" demanded Chris Larabee, the rising sunlight glinting from his scowling green glare, his already formidable image appearing even more threatening as he stood over the mob of people gathered below the clinic balcony.
Ambrose Conklin stepped forward from the crowd, assuming what he felt to be his natural place as spokesman for the town. A position he felt he'd naturally held - until the arrival of the seven gunmen. His accumulating resentment added passion to his voice as he challenged the man in black.
"We DEMAND that you hand that contemptible savage over to us for incarceration and an appropriate trial and punishment!" the snakelike man demanded, his ego building with the shouts of agreement he was receiving from the rowdy mob. "It is unacceptable that he remain free after what he did! Even you must understand that." Conklin gave a mocking sneer, enjoying himself as he believed he was pointing out his superiority over the rough gunmen.
"What'd he do, Conklin?" Chris asked, his voice deadly calm.
"Really, Mr. Larabee, I certainly thought you would show some propriety when it comes to discussing the repulsive events of yesterday! After all, we certainly don't want to openly discuss the vile attack on Mrs. Travis..." Conklin's voice trailed off as he looked around at the nodding heads of the townspeople surrounding him.
"He's right!" Shouted a man Chris recognized as a small-time rancher, "Poor Miz Travis, what happ'nd ta her shouldn' never happen to no good woman."
"Yea!" "He's right!" Others joined in, working themselves into a renewed frenzy of hostility.
"Vin didn't assault Mary Travis." Larabee announced firmly, his tone ensuring everyone's attention. "There was another man in the alley, Vin was tryin' to protect her."
"Come now. You can't expect us to believe that!" retorted Conklin. "We all saw you attack him to try and save her from that savage's assault. Now we want him locked up in jail!"
"Well, that just ain't gonna happen, you pompous overstuffed little pigeon." assured the amused voice of Buck Wilmington. The ladies man had propped himself up against a post on the boardwalk and was carefully watching the growing crowd. "Even if he was well enough ta be moved, we sure as hell ain't gonna turn him over to a plumped up struttin' pea hen like you! So why don't ya just gather your little brood in and go on about your business?"
"The man's right brother, you best move on." Heads spun to right as Josiah Sanchez spoke, the big man's posture quietly threatening.
"Yea, sounds like a smart idea to me." said J.D. Dunne from his position behind the gathered hot-heads.
"Well, gentlemen, I do believe my comrades have made their point and it would serve your best interests to disburse your little assembly at this time. Most assuredly, no good can come to you if you continue with your preposterous demands."
Heads spun again, this time to Ezra's position, and the clear realization that the lethal peacekeepers had effectively surrounded the crowd.
Soon quiet mutterings could be heard as the so recently outspoken crowd understood that any further action on their part would be met by deadly force. Wrathful faces now turned to Conklin, their angry demeanor demanding that he guide them from the peril he had led them into.
Deciding to bluff his way out, Conklin put forth his most indignant expression and turned back to Chris Larabee where he still stood looking down at the crowd with deceptive calm.
"This is not over! You cannot protect an attacker and attempted rapist from the law!" exclaimed the arrogant man, "Justice will be served!" he proclaimed dramatically, then turned on his heel to march off with as much dignity as he could muster.
With continued dark mutterings the mob quickly disbanded as Buck, Josiah, Ezra and J.D. watched carefully for any continued trouble.
Chris directed one final glare at the scattering men and turned back into the clinic, his full attention returning to his painful vigil.

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