Chris and Buck slowed their horses, giving them a much needed respite from the demanding pace they had been forced to keep since leaving Four Corners.
"So, you think the Army found out that Vin is wanted?" Buck said.
Larabee had been lost in thought the past mile and a half, and it took him a moment to decipher what the ladies' man had said. "Nah, why would they send for us."
Buck ran his tongue over his teeth and nodded. "You think Ezra's disappearance has anything to do with what's going on with the Indians?"
Chris's first thoughts were that the wily cardshark had got himself in trouble playing poker, but that belief soon smothered with his growing unease. "Yep," Chris finally answered. The two gunslingers pulled up as three Calvary soldiers crested the hill ahead of them.
"Looks like we have a welcoming committee," Buck said.
"Okay, I think we need to go for a ride," Jimbo sneered as he roughly tied one end of the rope to Ezra's tied hands, yanking it taut. The large man continued to grin, not able to help himself.
Jimbo looked over at Roland. "Boy, get on your horse and meet me over by that tree."
Roland looked down at the cardshark, wishing he had never gotten involved, but it was too late now, and he was in too deep. Roland turned and slowly made his way over to his horse.
Jimbo put a foot in the stirrup and looked down at the trussed up cardshark as he pulled himself up into the saddle. "Let's see how tough you really are?" Jimbo spurred his horse into a trot, stretching the conman out behind him.
Ezra winced as his arms were stretched out, and he bit back a scream as his wounded rib cage was extended. Sand flew up into his face, stinging his eyes and filling his mouth. He rolled over onto his back, holding his head up as high as he could. His shoulders and arms felt like they were going to separate from his body as the tension increased. Small rocks tore at his dress shirt, and he could feel the friction on his skin as he was dragged along the ground. The horse's pace quickened and Ezra gritted his teeth as sharp rocks ripped into his back, tearing the soft skin and muscle to shreds. He tried to drag his heels to keep his legs off the ground as much as possible.
Jimbo glanced over his shoulder, seeing the agony on the conman's face. He was impressed that the southerner wasn't screaming but he knew how to remedy that. He guided his horse toward the outskirts of the cactus patch. Jimbo turned his horse just as he reached the needle harboring vegetation. A smile spread across his face as a scream rose up from behind him.
Ezra knew he was screaming, but he couldn't hear it over the blood rushing to his head and the pain flooding his body. The long needles of the cactus seemed to jump out at him. They speared his left side and leg with daggers of torture. Instinctively, Ezra rolled onto his stomach, trying to escape the cacti's spines. He pulled at the rope that tied him, feeling the pop of his shoulder then the mind-numbing agony that raced down his arm.
Jimbo dragged the gambler a few more feet then pulled to a halt. He dismounted and looked back at the dust-covered body. He hoped he hadn't killed him or they might never find that ring.
Ezra's head was swimming with pain and his body was racked with spasms he wasn't able to control. His whole body felt raw, like a skinned rabbit waiting for the spit. His fancy shirt was in tatters, only shreds remaining on his shoulders. The bottom of his pants were frayed and ripped. He felt huge, rough hands grab his injured shoulder and turn him over. Ezra wanted to scream, but his throat was dry and tight. His half hooded gaze was filled with the Army Sergeant kneeling down beside him with an insipid grin pasted on his face. Ezra blinked, trying to remove the grit from his eyes. He couldn't remember when he felt so utterly wretched.
"Those look painful," Jimbo mocked looking down at the several dozen cactus needles imbedded in Ezra's side and leg. Trickles of blood had started to pool on the sand next to the gambler. Jimbo reached down and touched one of the spines, pulling his hand back quickly when blood was drawn.
Roland remained on his horse a short distance away, not wanting to see what was left of the stubborn gambler. Standish's screams would now be added to the screams of the couple that burned and would haunt him for a long time to come.
"Now, you have a choice, tell me where the ring is and I'll make your death quick." Jimbo pressed the barrel of his gun against Ezra's temple and cocked the hammer back.
Ezra found himself leaning into it, seeking the release that the gun offered. Death cured so many things.
"And...if I refuse... this cordial request?" Ezra gasped out through dry, dust-covered lips.
He felt the gun slowly travel down his face and neck, and stop at his side. "I'll make it painful and long lasting. Your choice." Jimbo pressed the revolver into the gambler's stomch smiling at the gasp of pain.
For a moment Ezra just wanted to die. The pain that gripped every part of his body was almost unbearable. His legs and back felt like they had been ravaged by a mountain cat. Ezra labored for each breath and it was a struggle just to move his head. Through the haze of his pain-ridden mind, thoughts of his friends and what they had come to mean to him eased the agony somewhat. He knew he wasn't ready to give that up yet, at least not without a fight. Ezra knew he couldn't risk putting JD into this sadistic monster's hands. He hoped the others would learn of his sacrifice somehow.
"Go to Hell," Ezra spat, watching through clouded green eyes as the Sergeant's smile changed, becoming sardonic and deprecating.
The bullet seared through his flesh, drawing an enormous bolt of pain through his side. Ezra twisted and his face contorted in agony that stole away all reality as bright dots flashed across his vision in sync. He tried to scream, but only managed a hoarse animalish moan.
Jimbo chuckled as he watched the conman writhe in pain. He looked up at the afternoon sun.
"Looks like it's going to be hot one. I'd be careful about sunburn if I were you." Jimbo stood and walked back toward his horse his maniacal laughter mixing with the sound of receding hooves.
The pain centered in his side and then slowly radiated through his nervous system, crawling down his legs and up his back like an inevitable tide of agony. Every nerve ending vibrated with the feeling of a red hot needle knifing through his battered body.
Dust swirled lazily over Ezra's wrecked body, the desert flora the only witness to the brutality he'd endured. He slowly raised his head looking out over the desolate landscape. His body shook as he fought back the sharp, tearing pain. He squinted against the harsh sunlight hoping to see some sign of salvation, at the moment he'd even settle for an apparition.
His green eyes glazed over like frost on a windowpane, the fierce pain finally releasing its grip on his tortured body. 'I'm going to die out here,' was his last coherent thought as fog glazed over his mind, and he was gratefully carried into oblivion.
Chris and Buck entered the large tent to find Major Willis sitting behind a rickety table. The Major continued to write a moment before finally bringing his attention to the two gunslingers. He looked tired, but still determined. His uniform wasn't as neatly pressed as before and he was in dire need of a shave.
"You have one of my men." Chris asked, not in the mood for any bullshit this Major might feel inclined to give.
Major Willis leaned back in his chair. The same self-satisfied grin that he wore back in town appeared on his face. Chris started to believe it came with every promotion to Major. "Yes, Mr. Tanner." Willis rose from his chair and turned to one of the three soldiers standing inside the tent.
"Sergeant Murphy, could you please go and get the prisoner."
"So why was he arrested?" Buck angrily growled. He had been going over ways to free Vin if the Army found out that he was wanted in Tacosa. So far every plan ended with all of them being killed.
"He was interfering with a military operation. Staff Sergeant Yeager and Corporal Lance tracked him to Pine Bluff where we believe he was trying to warn Gray Eagle," Willis replied.
Chris and Buck exchanged bewildered glances, and some of Chris's anger seeped away at the absurdity of that statement.
Major Willis nodded toward two soldiers standing at attention along the far wall.
"During our patrol we witnessed Mr. Tanner riding out of town," Sergeant Yeager explained. "We thought it suspicious that he was riding at night and alone."
"And you tracked him all the way to Pine Bluff?" Chris slowly repeated, trying to come to grips with the implausibility of that.
"Yes Sir," the Sergeant replied with a note of pride in his voice.
"It wasn't hard," the Corporal added with the same self-satisfaction as his Sergeant. "We trailed him to Pine Bluff and stopped him before he could light a signal fire."
"I suppose I should thank your friend. We now know where Chief Gray Eagle is holed up," Willis smugly explained.
Buck's face contorted, barely able to contain his amusement. He glanced over at Chris whose lips were pressed tight, but his eyes danced with humor. The two lawmen held their tongues, knowing Vin had a reason for allowing the soldiers to track him, and not willing to inadvertently expose that reason.
Vin strolled into the tent ahead of his guard.
"Now, I don't want any further interference from any of your men," Willis told Chris as he stood face to face with the blond leader. "Or next time your man might not get off so easy."
Chris glared at the Major for a moment then stepped back in mock compliance. He just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible. They still had to find Ezra.
"What the hell were you thinkin'? Pullin' a fool stunt like that," Chris yelled at his friend as soon as they were out of range of the Army camp.
"I'm not going to let the Army murder innocent people," Vin bit back.
"And what if the Major had decided to look more in-depth into your personal life?" Buck pointed out. "Rescuing you from bounty hunters is whole lot different than from the Army."
"Why didn't you tell me what you were plannin'?"
"'fraid you wouldn't have let me go," Vin explained. "I needed to do something, Chris. I couldn't let it happen again without at least trying to prevent it."
Chris understood Vin's concern over the Indians, but he couldn't help being angry at the risk his friend took. Vin was like a brother to him, and he didn't want to lose him.
The three men rode in silence for a moment.
"So, how long before they discover that Gray Eagle ain't at Pine Bluff?" Chris asked his voice a little calmer.
Vin shrugged and a mischievous grin played on his face. "One, maybe two days."
"How'd you know they'd trail you?" Buck asked.
"Just figured they were watching for one of us to go and try and warn Gray Eagle. I'll tell ya it weren't easy. I had to backtrack twice...kept losing 'em," Vin explained. The three men shared a much needed laugh, easing the tension of the past three days.
"So, we got two days to find out who is really responsible," Chris mused out loud. "You haven't seen Ezra?" He suddenly asked trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
Vin frowned. "Nope." He scrutinized his two companions seeing the worry on both their faces. "Has anyone seen Ezra?"
Buck shook his head. "JD found his jacket in the alley next to the saloon, and his room looked like a steer was let loose in it."
"Damn," Vin muttered.
The noon sun looked down on the three lawmen as they rode in silence. Each one lost in their own Private thoughts, not realizing those thoughts were shared by the others. What were they going to do about the Army and where the hell was Ezra? Chris and Buck both feared that Vin would join up with the tribe, and Vin was contemplating that very thought. Chris and Buck also knew that they would be right there to back the foolhardy tracker.
"Buzzards," Buck abruptly pointed out, pulling up on his horse and looking over to the west where several ominous dark shapes spiraled downward on the air.
"Probably just a dead steer," Chris remarked under his breath, hoping his words would take away his doubt. Without a word the three headed in the direction of death.
"Aww hell," Buck hissed when he recognized the intended meal for the scavengers was a man. Damn, just what they needed another white man murdered. The Army would probably try and peg this sorry cuss on the Indians too.
Vin was the first to notice and horror flashed in his blue eyes and froze the features of his face. His heart raced as his mind tried to deny not only what he was seeing, but who. Vin spurred his horse into a gallop, taking Chris and Buck by surprise and causing knots of dread to form in their guts.
Vin pulled his gun and fired at two rather bold carrion-eaters, who were on the ground, hopping toward their quarry. The giant birds of prey turned their small heads to stare angrily at the interloper then took flight.
Vin leapt from his horse even before the animal came to a full stop, his boots sliding on the sandy soil. He slid on his knees next to the motionless form that lay on his side. For a moment Vin was afraid to touch his friend, he didn't look alive.
"Ezra, ah shit, no," Buck breathed as he and Chris pulled up their mounts.
Vin placed a hand on the gambler's shoulder and felt a slight tremble.
"Dear Lord in heaven. What the hell happened to him?" Buck growled as he dismounted, grabbing his canteen. Chris untied his bedroll and grabbed his canteen.
Vin's eyes roamed over the injured gambler. He could tell that Ezra's shoulder was out again. His jaw clenched when he noticed the needles protruding from the man's side and leg. He glanced over at the patch of cactus and swore. The tatters of Ezra's shirt barely concealed the long red abrasions, scouring his back and chest.
"Some sonofabitch dragged 'im through that cactus." Vin's voice cracked with rage and fear.
Ezra moaned. He thought he heard voices, but his mind refused to solidify the belief. It all sounded distant anyway, and he didn't have the strength to call out.
"Ezra? Ay Ez, you in there?" Vin gently prodded as he removed his knife and quickly cut through the rope that bond the gambler's hands. Vin grimaced at the bloody groove that encircled Ezra's wrist as he pulled the rope away.
Chris stood over the tracker his jaw clenched and his eyes burning with hate.
Vin looked up at Chris and for just a moment felt sorry for whoever had done this. They better pray that Larabee didn't get his hands on them. Ezra groaned again and any sympathy for the walking dead man was forgotten. Chris rolled out his bedroll behind Ezra. Buck knelt down next to Vin and together they carefully eased the gambler onto his back.
"Shit, he's been shot!" Buck exclaimed upon seeing the still bleeding wound. Vin pulled off his bandana and pressed it against the hole in Ezra's side.
Chris couldn't speak, the building rage inside stealing his voice. Fingers curled into fists of rage as his icy stare darted across the desert landscape, hoping to find the person responsible to release his anger upon.
Ezra gasped as a spike of pain cut through his fog-induced state. He tried to roll over onto his left side but someone grasped his arm and stopped him. He wasn't alone, his mind finally informed him. Ezra tried to open his eyes his head rolling to the side.
"Ez, don't move," Vin instructed, keeping pressure on the bullet wound.
The sound of the familiar Texas drawl gave Ezra renewed hope and he forced his eyes to open. Green, pain-filled eyes gazed up into Vin's worried visage. Ezra's heart soared at the sight of the tracker. They had found him.
"Shhhh, Ez. We're here you just take it easy," Vin soothed. Vin peered under the bandana grateful that the bleeding had finally stopped. Buck handed him a clean bandana, which Vin wet and used to mope Ezra's brow.
"Buck, go and git Nathan and a wagon," Chris said, his voice low.
Buck glanced down at his injured friend, wondering if he would see the suave cardshark alive when he returned. Chris grabbed Buck's upper arm and pulled him close.
"Watch yourself, whoever did this might still be out there."
"I hope so," Buck sneered, laying his hand on his gun and walking toward his horse. Chris watched as Buck galloped away then knelt down beside the injured gambler.
Vin lifted the pain-ridden man up by his shoulders and Chris placed the canteen to his lips.
"C'mon Ez you need to drink," Chris encouraged, smiling slightly when Ezra's lips parted to allow the life sustaining moisture in. Ezra tried to reach for the canteen, but his arms felt like dead weight and wouldn't obey his commands.
Chris pulled the canteen away, resting a hand on Ezra's chest. "That's enough fer now." Chris could feel the tremors going through the gambler's beaten body. He squeezed Ezra's hand, trying to give his friend some measure of comfort.
"Sorry," Ezra breathed out and Vin's brow furrowed.
Ezra fought to keep his eyes open. "You were right."
Vin didn't understand what Ezra was talking about. He looked at Chris, who shook his head.
"R..r..ing," Ezra rasped. His leg and side burned and tears slid down his cheek.
"What did you say?" Vin frowned as he leaned closer to the southerner's chapped lips and wiped the tears away.
Ezra licked at dry lips and tried again to make himself understood. He had to do this even if it was the last thing he did. His voice was hoarse and gritty, stealing away the smooth southern drawl. Ezra's eyes slowly closed as the word again left his lips.
"What's he talkin' about? What ring?" Chris asked, his brow furrowing in concern as Ezra went limp.
Vin placed two fingers alongside the Ezra's neck, feeling the slight throb of his pulse. "Don't know," Vin replied, wiping at Ezra's fevered brow.
"Think we should try and get those needles out of 'im?" Chris asked, looking at the long spines that stuck out of the conman's side and through the tatters of his pants.
"I guess we can try."
Chris removed one of his gloves, reached down, and tried to grab hold of one of the slender needles. The fine spike was difficult to grasp. Chris slowly pulled the needle out, stopping when he heard Ezra groan. The gambler's face scrunched up, and his eyes squeezed tight against the pain that was everywhere. Chris continued to pull the needle the rest of the way out and looked at the blood-coated tip. Vin took hold of another only to break it off at the skin.
"Shit! Maybe this isn't such a good idea." He could see that they were only causing Ezra more pain.
"We need to wait for Nathan to give him something for the pain," Chris said.
Vin nodded in agreement, although the sight of all those needles sticking out of his friend was driving him crazy. Why would someone do this? It was obvious Ezra had been left for dead. Vin removed what was left of Ezra's shirt then the two gunslingers began to wash the dirt from his body. With each wipe came a new discovery, there was barely any spot left on the conman's body that hadn't been damaged.
The sun dropped the space of an hour when the sound of thundering hooves caused Chris and Vin to raise their heads. Ezra had begun to stir under their administrations and both were grateful for the healer's arrival.
Nathan pulled up his bay a few yards away, kicking up dust and dirt and obscuring the horse's forelegs. The healer grabbed his bag and scrambled over to his friends.
"Son-of-a-bitch," Nathan pulled up short and swore as he took in the gambler's appearance.
"He was dragged and shot, got a bunch of cactus needles in 'im," Vin explained, his voice shook as his hand stroked the southerner's brow. Nathan broke from his stupor and knelt down next to Chris.
"His shoulder's out too," Chris added.
Buck rode up, with JD and Josiah following in a wagon filled with hay and blankets. The ex-preacher's face paled and his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach at the sight of the man he considered a son. "Sweet mother Mary of God," he said under his breath.
"Ezra, can you hear me?" Nathan urgently called, peeling back an eyelid and noticing the sluggish response of the pupil. He quickly checked the back of the conman's head finding a huge lump. He knew the southerner was only semi-conscious. The healer then let his experienced hands run along Ezra's torso feeling the broken ribs. Gawd, how much can one man take?
Josiah stepped up beside Nathan and knelt down, resting his hand on Ezra's shoulder.
"We need to get his shoulder back in," Nathan said as he ran his hand down Ezra's arm. Josiah grasped Ezra's shoulder as Nathan took hold of his lower arm and expertly pulled until the shoulder slipped back in place. Ezra's face scrunched, and he tried to roll away from the pain. Nathan stopped him before he could do any further harm to himself. "Easy, Ez, just hang on for me."
Nathan. Oh thank God it was Nathan! Ezra inwardly rejoiced. He was exhausted. He felt the coolness of a damp rag on his face and thought it felt as heavenly as the finest silk. He started hearing the murmur of voices and felt the touch of concern as he slowly rose to consciousness.
Ezra groaned and his eyes fluttered.
"Nat...han," the name floated on a breath of air as Ezra struggled to open his eyes without success. His body felt like it was full of molten lead, and pain throbbed in every appendage.
"Don't talk. You have to save your strength." The fear and worry in Nathan's voice caused a wave of anxiety to wash over the others, drenching them in despair. Josiah clasped Ezra's hand and whispered a prayer of salvation. JD quickly wiped at tears that slid down his cheek. Buck's heart broke and he turned away for a moment.
Nathan dug out a cup and was about to pour a generous amount of laudanum into it until Vin's hand reached out and stopped him. "He can't take laudanum."
The healer stared at the tracker like he was crazy. "Vin, he's in a lot of pain now and when I start digging for that bullet..."
"You can't give 'im laudanum," Vin interrupted.
Ezra slowly reached out and grabbed Vin's wrist, opening his eyes to glare at the plainsman. Vin only shook his head. "Sorry, Ez, I have to tell them."
Ezra's hand dropped away, and he nodded once. Vin looked at the five confused faces. "He told me that during the war doctors gave him too much laudanum, and he got hooked on the stuff. It took him a year before he could finally stop taking it."
"Shit," Nathan murmured. He had seen many men hooked on the opiate during the war. Ezra was apparently made of sterner stuff than Nathan had believed. He'd known very few men who had actually kicked the addiction and most of them eventually went back to it. Nathan reached back into this backpack and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and some herbs. He mixed the herbs in water and handed it to Josiah.
"Josiah, try and get that down him." Nathan looked at the sinking sun. They were losing light. "It won't be as good as the laudanum, but it'll have to do. I have some stronger stuff back at the clinic. And get some of this whiskey down him too."
"Vin, I need you with me," Nathan said as he stood and looked toward the cactus.
Chris grasped the healer's upper arm and leaned into him. "Is he goin' to be alright?" He glanced down at the prone form, watching as Josiah coaxed more of the herbs and water down him.
Nathan bowed his head a moment and swallowed. His gaze was misty as he brought his head up. "I don't know. I'm surprised he's made it this long." Nathan would never forget the look of desolation that flashed on Chris's face.
Vin and Nathan walked over to the cactus patch. Nathan looked at the round spiked plants that ran several feet along the base of some rocks. Two to three inch needles protected the soft flesh of the cactus. Nathan could see the sweep of dirt where Ezra's body was dragged past.
"It's Devil's foot, real nasty stuff," Vin explained knowing the healer wanted his expertise in the native vegetation.
"Any poison?" Nathan asked studying the plant and seeing the barb ends.
"Nah, have to worry 'bout infection, especially with the amount of needles in 'im and all that dirt," Vin said as he knelt down to examine several hoof prints in the hard packed earth. He stared down at one clear imprint, noticing the nick in the horse's left rear shoe, he also saw the vague mark of the letter 'U'. Vin stared off toward the east, wondering who would do this and why?
"Easy, Ez," Josiah soothed, resting a large hand on the southerner's shoulder to keep him still. He looked up as Nathan and Vin returned.
Nathan knelt down and laid a hand on the conman's forehead then moved down to his neck to check his pulse.
"I was able to get the herbs and some of the whiskey down him," Josiah said. "I think he's out again."
"Good, because I'm going to have to get that bullet out now."
"Why can't we wait until we get back to town?" JD asked. He couldn't stand seeing his friend in so much pain. "And what about all those needles?" JD was almost sick at the sight Ezra as a human pincushion. Ezra's leg and side were already swelling and turning red.
Nathan looked at the plummeting sun, taking the much needed light with it. "Because I'm losing light and we're already riskin' infection from those needles and scrapes. I have to at least get that bullet out." Nathan looked up at Chris, who stood over Ezra's head. "Was he conscious when you found him?"
"Barely," Chris said.
"He kept sayin' something about a ring. Didn't know what he was talkin' about," Vin added.
JD's eyes went wide, and he dug in his pocket as he exclaimed. "This one?" He held out the gold wedding band.
"Let me see that," Nathan grabbed the gold band and stared at it, noticing the inscription on the inside of the band. "This is Mrs.
Schorr's wedding band."
"Are you sure?" Chris asked.
"Yep, look at the inscription 'To J.S., all my love P.S'."
A shiver went down everyone's spine like a ghost had suddenly walked through each and every one of them. They all knew that ring had come off the finger of a dead woman.
Chris knelt down and laid a hand on Ezra's head. "Ezra, where did you get the ring?" He sharply whispered.
Ezra's head lolled to the side and without opening his eyes he whispered. "Soldier..."
"Aww shit!" Buck exclaimed.
Nathan pulled out his instruments and prepared to remove the bullet buried in the cardshark's side. "I need you all to hold him down."
Josiah remained where he was and wrapped a large arm across Ezra's shoulders, whispering a passage from the bible into his ear in hopes of soothing him. Vin took hold of Ezra's right leg, and Buck gingerly took hold of Ezra's left ankle acutely aware of the needles sticking out of his leg. Everyone was surprised at the muscles that quivered underneath their grasp and knew they might be in for a fight. When Nathan saw that everyone was ready he took a deep breath, and then began to cut into the festering wound.
Ezra's eyes snapped open and his body tried to jack-knife as he howled in agony, his body wanting to curl into a fetal position. Chris and JD moved in, grapping hold and helping to restrain the gambler.
"HOLD HIM!" Nathan yelled as he remained fixed on digging out the bullet as quickly as possible.
Josiah, Vin and Buck fortified their holds. Chris winced when he saw the wound on Ezra's side bleeding freely. How much blood could a man afford to lose? And Ezra was already weak from dehydration. He noticed that a couple of the needles had broken off. Chris moved down next to Buck to help keep Ezra's leg still.
Standish's eyes darted wildly as wave after wave of pain assaulted him. He released a tormented scream, trying to escape the pain tearing at his body and his soul, trying to hold onto what was left of his sanity.
"Hurry, Nathan," Buck pleaded as he looked down into Ezra's face contorted in agony. He felt Ezra's body convulsing under their grips.
Ezra shuddered, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he mercifully passed out. Nathan found the elusive bullet and pulled it out. The healer poured a generous amount of whiskey on the wound bringing forth only an enfeeble moan from the cardshark. He put two fingers to the side of Ezra's neck, feeling the weak pulse. "Shit, we have to get him back to town. I still need to get them needles out of him and clean all these scrapes." Nathan quickly gathered his instruments as the others took a moment to catch their breaths.
"Damn, who have thought underneath them fancy duds there was that much muscle," Buck softly quipped, swinging his left arm around to try and release the cramp.
"He's goin' to be alright now, right Nathan?" JD asked out loud, silently, he pleaded, 'Please let him be alright.'
Nathan could see the plea in the young gunslinger's eyes.
"Let's just get him home."
The wagon ride home was nerve-racking as each of the lawmen would look toward Nathan for assurance that their friend would survive. All they received was his uncertain frown as he continued to work on the injured southerner. He had tried to get some much needed water into the gambler but only succeeded in dribbling it down his chin.
Night had silenced the town as the wagon and its somber entourage paraded slowly up the street. Josiah pulled the horses to a gentle stop and jumped down from the wagon. "How's he doing, Brother?" Josiah asked looking over the side of the wagon. He gasped, for a second thinking he was peering down at a corpse.
"He's holdin' his own so far." Nathan removed his hand from Ezra's chest. He had left it there through the entire trip so he could be assured that Ezra was still breathing.
Josiah released the back of the wagon as Nathan eased Ezra's shoulders into his waiting arms. Vin came up alongside, taking hold of the conman's ankles. They gently carried Ezra between them up to the clinic.
Nathan pushed past them and pulled the covers back on the bed. They laid Ezra down. The southerner had been silent throughout the entire and a moan startled the healer.
"JD, I need lots of water and rags," Nathan ordered. The young man raced out the door to comply. Nathan stared down at the needles imbedded in Ezra's side and upper thigh. He didn't think his forceps would be able to get a tight enough hold on the slim needles.
"Josiah, I'm going to need some pliers."
Josiah inhaled sharply, nodded and left the room.
Ezra moaned and eyelids fluttered slightly.
"Ezra, wake up," Nathan sternly cajoled. He was worried about the concussion that Ezra obviously had. He also wanted to get some fever and pain medicine down him before he started pulling out the needles. He could see where some of the needles had broken almost at the skin; they would have to be cut out. The ones he couldn't see he would leave in and hope that Ezra's own body defenses would take care of them. There was so much dirt, and a fever was burning throughout his body. Nathan also needed to treat the scrapes on his back and they needed to get some water down him. Nathan inhaled and held it. One thing at a time, he thought. He couldn't let the extent of the injuries overwhelm him. He released the breath slowly.
"We gotta find who did this," Buck sneered, the anger in his voice contrary to the tears in his eyes.
"Oh, we will, Buck, that I promise." The low threat rose from the corner of the room where Chris stood, his eyes like stone and his body tense with controlled fury waiting to be unleashed. Vin smirked and nodded. He hoped he got a chance to practice some of the more unpleasant rituals that the Indians had taught him.
JD returned, his arms laden with supplies. Buck, and Vin grabbed the water ewers and rags and surrounded the bed, knowing the healer would need their help.
Ezra's eyes opened, and he stared up at his friends, his green gaze vibrant with fever and pain. Buck raised Ezra's head and Nathan quickly brought a cup of water and herbs to his lips. "Sorry, Ez, but you're going to need this." Nathan wasn't going to give the cardshark a chance to protest. Ezra downed half of the medicine before he coughed and sputtered.
"Mr. Jackson..." he gasped. "That...was most...unkind." Those few words rode on a breath of pain and left the cardshark exhausted. Nathan smiled, but continued to force the rest of medicine and some more whiskey into him. He hoped it would be enough.
Buck gently laid the gambler back down, touching Ezra's pale cheek before moving away.
Nathan pulled a chair up to the bed. In the clinic the healer ruled and everyone made way without question or interference, unless directed.
"Ez, I have a lot of needles to pull out of you," Nathan softly explained.
Ezra tried to raise his head, but Nathan laid a hand on his brow and forced him back down. "Don't, Ez."
"Yeah, pard, it's not somethin' you want t'see," Buck sadly murmured. "You look like a damn porcupine."
A faint smile creased Ezra's lips. "Thank you for that vivid imagery, Mr. Wilmington." A shudder caused Ezra to gasp and arch his back.
Nathan grabbed his shoulders. "Easy Ez, just ride it out."
Ezra fell back, sweat beading up on his forehead.
Josiah returned and handed Nathan the pair of pliers he had got out of his toolbox. Nathan dropped the tool into a basin of alcohol that was sitting on the dresser. He looked back at Ezra seeing the effects of the herbs and alcohol finally taking hold as the green eyes glazed over.
"Stop fighting it, Ez," Nathan calmly scolded, laying a hand over the gambler's eyes for a moment.
Nathan looked over at Josiah and Vin, who stood at the head of the bed. He nodded and both men gently laid their hands on Ezra's shoulders. Buck and Chris added their weight to the conman's lower legs.
Jackson took hold of the pliers and took a deep breath. Ezra groaned. Damn, he was still with them. Nathan wished that he could have given the gambler laudanum. He laid a hand on Ezra's thigh and took hold of the first cactus needle with the pliers. He slowly pulled the needle out, keeping it straight to avoid breaking it.
Ezra clenched his teeth and tried to bury his head into the pillow as the spine was extracted with excruciating slowness. Blood trickled out of the small puncture that the cactus needle left behind.
Nathan tried pulling out three needles at a time, but one broke. He swore and felt Josiah squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. The healer firmly took hold of another one and pulled it out. After twenty minutes, Ezra's face was bathed in sweat, and he no longer seemed sure of where he was as he muttered incoherently. Nathan paused from his work for Josiah to give their semi-conscious friend some water. Nathan laid the back of his hand on Ezra's forehead. "Damn, his fever is higher."
"Nathan?" Buck quietly prompted.
"I'm almost done." Nathan let his hand stroke Ezra's cheek, but the gambler continued to stare blankly at the ceiling. His body shook as the ex-medic again started the painful procedure of removing the needles.
Finally, Nathan stood and took a few steps away from the bed, allowing Josiah to gently clean the needle wounds. Ezra was unconscious and burning with fever, spasms racked his body. The gunshot wound had started bleeding again and Vin applied pressure until Buck could get a new bandage.
"Well? " Chris asked his eyes glued to Ezra's pale form.
"Dehydration, blood loss, busted ribs, shock, infection..."
Everyone's face paled as Nathan clinically rattled off Ezra's injuries. The healer's voice caught and his eyes watered. "I'm not sure there's anything anyone can do."
The six lawmen worked through the night on their injured friend. Buck and JD maintained a continuous flow of water as Chris and Vin wiped down the gambler's fevered body. Nathan applied salve to the many scrapes, and with Josiah's help wrapped Ezra's chest, binding his injured shoulder to his chest. They all tried to get Ezra to drink water but to no avail.
The stairway creaked as five pairs of weary boots slowly made their way down and into the deserted saloon. The early morning sun shined through the slats of the bat wing doors. Buck stepped up to the bar, reaching over and grabbing a bottle of whiskey. He returned to the table where the others tiredly gathered. JD's head rested on top of his arms. Vin's hat was pulled low, covering his face. Josiah's head was tilted back with his arms across his chest. Buck heard the large gunslinger's soft snore. Buck placed the bottle in the center of the table.
Chris rubbed the nape of his neck, trying to ease the tightness.
"JD, let me see that ring," Chris abruptly asked. JD raised his head and pulled out the ring, handing it to the gunslinger. Vin pushed his hat back and Josiah snorted, waking himself.
Larabee stared at the gold band, wondering if the ring was the reason Ezra was almost tortured to death. His gut clenched every time he thought of what Ezra had gone through and if they'd lose him. Chris didn't know when it happened, but he had come to care a great deal for the wily cardshark, as he had the other five men he found himself fortuitously linked.
"What'cha thinkin', cowboy?" Vin asked.
"If we assume the soldier that Ezra got this ring from took it from Mrs. Schorr, why would soldiers be burning homesteads and making it look like Indians?" Chris mused out loud.
"Maybe the government has decided to expedite the removal of the native peoples," Josiah grimly stated.
"Nah, I think soldiers are involved, but not the Army." Chris rubbed his chin and continued to stare at the gold ring. "Who would have a reason to get rid of the Indians?"
"Parson," Buck abruptly stated. All eyes turned to the mustached cowboy. "He's been wanting that land for years and was real angry when we promised Gray Eagle that they'd never have to leave."
"Maybe Parson's worried if'n the Judge ever gets that signed pact with the government he'll never be able to get that land," Vin stated."
"Yeah but how do the soldiers fit in?" JD asked, coming out of his stupor. He was still in shock over Nathan's admission that Ezra might die.
"Army men don't earn much, it wouldn't be hard to find some willing lambs to cause a little unrest," Josiah said.
"It weren't no lamb that did that to Ez!" Buck growled.
"We'll need more proof and find out who's all involved," Chris said, rolling the ring between two fingers. "And I think I know a way."
"What do you have in mind, old-dog?" Buck leaned forward in his chair, his weariness disappearing as his need for revenge rose.
Chris's voice was firm and cold his own thoughts of revenge bringing a glint to his blue eyes. His gaze traveled up the stairs and stopped at the door, where Ezra fought for his life. He inwardly promised him justice--Chris Larabee justice.
"Someone wants this ring bad enough to kill. I say we give it to 'em," Chris venomously growled.
"But we don't know who's really involved?" JD asked.
A faint, feral grin cracked Chris's face as he looked over at the young gunslinger. "I think it's time you got engaged, JD."
"What?" JD jumped up out of his chair, a new kind of fear filling his eyes. The young gunslinger's backward progress stopped when he ran into Vin who placed a hand on his young friend's shoulder and grinned.
"Yeah, JD, Casey's waited long enough," Buck good-naturedly quipped.
"Now, wait just a dog-gone minute. I ain't ready to get hitched,"
Chris raised a hand. "Not for real, JD. We just need a way to let whoever wants this ring know where they can find it."
JD wiped a nervous hand down his young face. "What if'n Casey finds out and takes it the wrong way?"
"C'mon, JD, it's for Ez," Vin added.
JD's shoulder's slumped, he couldn't believe how selfish he was being. He took the ring from Chris's fingers and turned to glare at Buck. "If she finds out what I'm about to say, I'll know who told her."
Buck stepped back throwing up a face of pure innocence, which had absolutely no business being on the rogue cowboy's face. "Now,
JD, I wouldn't do such a thing," he answered with a wide grin that only caused the young gunslinger to groan.
JD entered the saloon and spared a glance over toward the eight soldiers who occupied two far tables. He then headed over to where his friends sat on the other side of the room.
Before reaching the table, he announced in a clear voice. "Hey guys, I'm finally goin' to do it." JD stepped up to the table risking a quick glance over his shoulder.
"Do what, JD?" Buck answered, playing along with the charade. He would definitely have to think of a good use for this later.
"I'm goin' to ask Casey to marry me." JD allowed his voice to travel through the saloon, trying to sound as cheerful as he could.
"Well, good fer ya," Vin congratulated, raising his beer.
"See, I even got a RING." JD held the gold band up so that even the soldiers across the room could see it. "Ezra gave it to me. I figure it's what he'd want me to do." JD's enthusiasm suddenly left him as he thought of the southerner fighting for his life. They had managed to keep Ezra's return a secret, hoping that whoever was responsible would believe the gambler had died out on the desert.
"Well, when you goin' to ask her?" Buck asked trying to distract all of them from their morbid thoughts and put them back on track.
Dunne inwardly shook himself. "I'm goin' up to her place right now."
"That's it," Roland whispered over to Jimbo who glanced over to see JD talking with the other regulators. "That's the ring."
"We need to get it back," Jimbo reiterated.
"Yeah, but isn't he one of them peacekeepers?" Hutchins asked. He didn't like this. He had enough money and was prepared to just leave and head on down to Mexico.
"Hell, he's just a kid," Conner quipped. "I think we can handle him."
JD bounced out of the saloon as the remaining lawmen fervently watched as four of the soldiers rose and left. It took everything Chris had not to jump out of his chair and shoot them down. Vin had wisely left his mare's leg back in Nathan's room.
Dunne stopped his horse just outside of town and leisurely dismounted, grabbing his canteen and walking to a nearby pond. This was where they hoped the soldiers would try and take the ring. JD stared down into the water and watched as it flowed into his canteen, even after the canteen was full he remained kneeling by the pond.
JD grinned when he heard the click of a gun and a deep voice command, "Alright, boy, get up real slow and keep your hands where we can see them."
The young easterner spread out his arms and slowly stood. He turned around to glare at the four soldiers who surrounded him.
"We want that ring!" Hutchins sneered. He didn't like this it was too easy.
"I think it would be a little small for ya," JD mocked.
"Just give us that ring and maybe we'll let you walk out of here alive," Jimbo added. He wasn't in the mood for games.
"Yeah, but the question is will we let you?" The smooth Texas drawl was even, unangered, but still managed to send a shiver down Roland's spine. The cocking of four distinct revolvers echoed through the small glen and caused the four soldiers to stiffen and swear under their breaths.
"Drop your guns." The second voice held a cold and deadly edge.
Roland and Conner immediately complied, convincing Hutchins with their eagerness. Jimbo glared at the five gunslingers. 'They'd been set up. Somehow they knew about the ring.'
Jimbo dropped his gun as his face broke into a broad grin. "Hey, sorry, we didn't know he was one of you. We were just havin' a little fun."
The five peacekeepers glared silently at the huge Sergeant.
"They wanted the ring, Chris," JD informed the others.
"Well, we just took a likin' to it." Jimbo was more than willing to plea to robbery--better than murder.
"Shut up!" Chris growled his finger applying pressure to the trigger, wanting nothing more than to kill the worthless piece of shit that stood before him. But that wouldn't give the Schorrs' any justice. All they had was the ring and it wasn't enough to convict these men of murder and attempted murder. They had to get more proof. "Let's get them back to town and wire the judge."
"We're government property," Hutchins exclaimed. "You don't have any jurisdiction over us."
"We'll let the judge decide that," Chris replied.
"You ain't got nuthin on us!" Jimbo yelled as Vin slammed the cell door, fighting back the urge to tear the man's tongue out. Jimbo looked over at the adjoining cell where Roland and Conner sat quietly. "You hear that boys, they ain't got nothin', so keep yer traps shut." Roland shied away as Conner just continued biting at his nails.
Jimbo strutted inside the confines of his cell, much to the amusement of his fellow inmate, Hutchins.
Vin held his tongue, they didn't want to give anything away quite yet. He turned and slammed the keys on the wall peg as he left the jail to join Chris outside.
Larabee stood on the boardwalk, staring toward the clinic where Buck, JD and Josiah had headed as soon as they reached town.
"I'll hang around here and keep an eye on these fella's," Vin offered, knowing that Chris wanted to go and check on Ezra.
Chris smiled his gratitude and looked back into the jailhouse. Roland and Conner had remained silent during the trip back to town. Hutchins and Jimbo actually seemed pleased and unconcerned. Chris hoped to change that soon.
"I need to check on a few horse shoes when you get back," Vin quietly remarked.
Chris walked across the wide street, noticing the absence of any soldiers. Apparently, Vin's deception had worked. His eyes shifted to the window on the second floor of the saloon, and his heart raced inside his chest causing his mouth to go dry. He didn't think Ezra was going to make it and wondered what that loss would do to them all.
"We caught them bastards, pard," Buck softly murmured as he wiped the unconscious man's forehead with a damp cloth. He looked up as Chris entered the clinic.
Chris's gut clenched at the sadness on his Buck's face. Ezra had managed to wiggle his way into the ladies' man heart too. He glanced over at Josiah, who sat in the rocking chair, his arms wrapped around a bible and his eyes glued to the form on the bed.
"Gawd, he's hotter than a two-dollar pistol," Buck said, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to trickle down his face.
"Where's Nathan?" Chris asked.
"Told 'im to go and get himself something to eat. He hasn't left
Ezra's side since yesterday morning," Josiah offhandedly explained his eyes never leaving Ezra's pale face as he rocked back and forth.
Buck dipped the rag into the basin of water and laid it across Ezra's fevered brow. "Damn, they were probably trying to get Ezra to tell them where the ring was," Buck absently said.
"An if he had? JD would be in the same condition or worse," Josiah added.
Chris closed his eyes and allowed his chin to drop to his chest. Damn, southerner had to go and surprise him again. Chris folded his arms across his chest and his fists clenched in helpless despair as he listened to Ezra's uneven and struggling breaths. He didn't want to lose a member of his family, not again, not like this.
The pain was intense, causing his whole body to burn and ache. Ezra knew he was in the clinic. He could hear Nathan's frustrated worry, wishing he could do more. Josiah's heavy sighs spoke volumes of his depth of feeling. Ezra could feel Chris's angered concern causing everyone to walk on eggshells, less they evoke his fury. Buck and JD's fear-filled concern, hoping they weren't going to lose a member of their family, entwined the others. He could even sense Vin's quiet consternation.
Ezra felt himself drifting and the pain was starting to ebb away, being left behind. At first, he allowed it, reveled in it. It was a joyous feeling--no pain--and a peace he had never known. Then he realized he was moving away from his friends and from a life he had grown quite fond of. No. He wasn't ready to leave, it was too soon. The arrogant and self-reliant cardshark had found something extraordinary with these six stalwart men, something he wanted to hang on to for as long as possible.
"Nathan, what's wrong?" Chris asked, startled when the healer jumped up to lay a hand on Ezra's chest. They had been sitting with Ezra for over a day now, watching as his condition deteriorated. Chris's heart pounded fiercely inside his chest as the healer bowed his head in resignation.
The healer released a quivering breath, raised his head and removed his hand. "Nothing...I...I just thought we lost him but he's still with us." Nathan could have sworn that Ezra had stopped breathing, but then he felt the long overdue rise and fall of his chest.
"How long can he keep fighting?" Buck somberly asked.
"I don't know. If I could just get his fever down, maybe..." Nathan sat back down in the chair, placing his face into his hands for a moment. He felt so useless. He raised his head, and taking a deep breath turned to find Chris staring intently at him. "He's so weak and the infection is strong. I think it's only a matter of time."
Ezra was dying. This was like a slap in the face and snapped Chris into action. He turned and stormed out of the clinic. Vin glanced at the three bewildered faces and chased after his friend.
Vin caught up with Chris just as he entered the jail. JD rose from his chair as the dark-clad gunslinger crossed over to stand in front of the cell that held Jimbo Macklin and Hutchins. Roland was the only one who appeared jittery at the gunslinger's appearance, and Chris focused his glare on him, like a lion weeding out the weakest member of the herd. Roland stepped back into the corner of the cell fidgeting with his belt. Chris shifted his gaze to the two older men.
"The big one on the cot was riding the bay with the nicked shoe," Vin confided to Chris over his shoulder.
Jimbo lay stretched out on the cot, his hands behind his head.
The Sergeant opened one eye and looked over at the blond lawman. His heart skipped a beat but that was the only sign that Larabee was having any effect on him.
"You can't touch us; we're government issue," Jimbo chuckled.
"Not in my town you're not," Chris countered. "You're scum." He turned to JD, who tossed him the keys and a set of handcuffs. Vin raised his mare's leg and pointed it at the large Sergeant.
Jimbo grinned and slowly stood. "You are making a big mistake. So, we tried to roll a peacekeeper, big deal. We'll get a year at hard labor at most."
"What about burning and killing homesteaders?" Chris asked.
Roland flinched and Jimbo and Hutchins's cool demeanor melted slightly.
Conner looked toward Roland hoping the Private wouldn't break.
"You ain't got no proof," Jimbo growled.
"Oh really, that ring you tried to steal belonged to the dead woman," JD broke in.
"What? We don't know nothing 'bout no dead woman. I just thought it was pretty," Jimbo smugly replied. "I wanted to give it to my girl."
"What about our friend you almost dragged to death," Vin venomously stated.
Jimbo noticeably stiffened, bringing a smile to Chris's face.
"He's still alive?" Roland blurted out, stepping toward the cell bars.
Conner rolled his eyes and placed his face into his hands.
"Shut up!" Jimbo spat out at the young soldier. "I demand you send for my commanding officer."
"If either of them twitches, shoot 'em," Chris said to Vin as he opened the cell door. "Face the wall and put your hands behind your back."
Jimbo tried to bring moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth. Seeing Vin's mare's leg pointing at him, he slowly turned around.
Chris slammed the Sergeant against the bars with enough force to drive some of the breath from his chest. He snapped the cuffs on the large man and shoved him out of the cell. Vin slammed the cell door shut and glanced over at Roland who looked like he was going to faint.
"JD, get Mr. Brandies to watch the prisoners. I want you to head out to the Army camp and bring the Major," Chris stated as he pushed the Sergeant out the door of the jailhouse.
"Will do, Chris."
Vin handed JD the key then turned back to the remaining prisoners. "Don't worry, boys, we won't forget you all," he sneered. The others paled and Roland fell heavily onto his cot.
Chris pushed the subdued Sergeant across the street, barely allowing him to keep his feet. As he passed by a horse Chris grabbed a rope that hung off the saddle.
Larabee shoved Macklin through the clinic door. The Sergeant staggered, and crashed into the side of the dresser. His earlier confident attitude deserting him, and his stomach churned at the look in the Larabee's face.
"What the hell are you going to do to me?" Jimbo stammered. He looked at the other gunslingers who surrounded the bed. Jimbo's eyes widened at the gambler's pale form stretched out on the bed. He turned back to Larabee. "I demand you wait until my commanding officer is here."
Chris ignored the Sergeant's demands as he deftly formed a noose at one end of the rope and then flung it over the rafter. Without a word, Chris placed a chair under the noose. Josiah and Buck regarded each other, then seeing what Chris had in mind they moved forward, grabbing Jimbo by the arms as he started to step back.
"You can't do this," Jimbo protested, his eyes wide with fright as he stared at the noose.
Buck and Josiah forced the Sergeant up onto the chair. Josiah grabbed the noose, fitting it over the Sergeant's neck. Chris pulled the rope taut and tied the free end to the closet doorknob.
Josiah and Buck returned to their positions at Ezra's side as if nothing unusual was happening. Buck actually smiled up at the terrified Sergeant.
Chris grabbed another chair and sat down, putting his foot on the chair that Sergeant Jimbo Macklin stood precariously on.
"You're crazy! All of you!" Jimbo spat out, fear causing his breaths to come out in fear-filled pants. The chair wobbled under his shaky legs and he finally locked his knees to steady himself.
"If Ezra dies, you die," Chris calmly and simply stated, removing a cheroot from his pocket and sticking it into his mouth.
"You can't do this to me."
"Figure if Ezra dies, you can follow him to the hereafter and beg his forgiveness, or at least give him a fair chance to shoot you," Buck said.
Josiah stepped forward and glared with unconcealed hate into the soldier's terrified face. "Well, brother, I suggest that you pray very hard for our friend's recovery. Your life depends on it."
The hours ticked by, the only sound in the room was Ezra's struggling and irregular breaths. The five lawmen would hold their own breaths during each pause, fearing the loss of their friend. Sergeant Macklin would also hold his breath but in fear of losing his life.
Larabee remained seated, his foot resting on the chair that held up Jimbo's life. He could tell the soldier was getting tired as he kept shifting from one foot to the other.
Jimbo stared down at the conman, finding himself praying that the man would live. There was no doubt in his mind that the dark-clad gunslinger would hang him when and if the cardshark died. He watched as the dark healer bathed the gambler's chest and face with cool rags. Jimbo watched as all five of the gunslingers had in someway touched or comforted the dying man. All his years in the army, he had never seen such loyalty and concern for another, or maybe he just never wanted to see it. He continued to watch as Ezra struggled for breath, demanding and praying that the man's chest rise.
Major Willis stormed into the clinic followed closely by JD, who immediately went to Ezra's side. The Major stopped short when he saw his Sergeant standing on a chair with a rope around his neck.
"Mr. Larabee, what is the meaning of this? Why have four of my men have been arrested?" Willis paused and looked his Sergeant up and down. "And why is my man trussed up like a piece of meat? He's a soldier in the Army. You can't treat him this way."
Chris stared at the cheroot he rolled between his fingers. "JD, tell the good Major what his men are charged with."
JD approached the put-out Major. "Burning Private property, inciting an uprising, murder, and attempted murder of a peacekeeper," JD replied.
The Major glared at Larabee. "Is this some kind of a joke? Are you saying my men are the ones burning the homesteads?"
"Yep," Chris coldly replied looking up at the Major.
Willis laughed. "Oh, this is pathetic. You don't want the Indians blamed so you're blaming my men. What, you couldn't find a better alternative than this?"
Buck grabbed Vin by the arm to hold him back. "Easy, Vin. Chris'll handle it," he sharply whispered.
Chris's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He couldn't believe that this man was so blind as to what was happening around him.
Willis's annoyed expression fell, feeling the icy stares of the six gunslingers, some of his bravado dissipated. "What proof do you have that my men were involved?"
"A ring off a dead woman and what this piece of shit did to my man," Chris growled, nudging the chair that Jimbo was standing on. The legs scraped along the floorboards like fingernails on a chalkboard. Jimbo gulped in some air.
"Major, please?" Jimbo pleaded, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"Mr. Larabee, I don't know anything about any ring. These men belong to the Army and you can not take the law into your own hands," Willis explained. He was willing to placate these lawmen if only to get his men out of here. "This is no place for a trial." Willis looked up at Jimbo. "Or execution."
"You look at what he did to my man, and then tell me that I don't have the right."
The five other lawmen parted to reveal the prone form on the bed. Major Willis walked over and looked down at the gambler's pallid face. For a moment, he thought he was looking at a corpse. Nathan pulled back the blanket to reveal long red scrapes running up the conman's side and chest, peeking out from under the bandages. Ezra's leg was swollen and a large bruise ran down the side of his face. The Major laid a hand on the gambler's brow, grimacing at the heat he felt. Ezra started to convulse again. Nathan pushed the Major aside and took hold of Ezra's shoulder as Vin and Buck quickly moved in to help.
The Major stared helplessly as Ezra shuddered one last time then was still. Nathan reached over and wrung out a cloth to wipe the sweat from the gambler's face.
"What happened to him?" Major Willis asked no one in particular.
"He was dragged through cactus, shot and left in the desert to die,"
Vin explained, coming face to face with the Major and only barely managing to control his anger.
"We think your men were working for a rancher by the name of Parson who has been trying to get the land that the Indians live on," Buck explained.
"Yeah, if'n the Army sent the Indians to a reservation, or better yet killed them, then Parson could buy up the land cheap from the government," JD added.
Major Willis recalled the gentleman coming to his camp a little over a month ago. He had asked for help in tracking down some wolves that were attacking his cattle. Willis offered any of his men who wanted to help. He remembered seeing Parson and Jimbo in several conversations over the past weeks.
The Major's soft features gave way to a hidden hardness. He walked over to Macklin. "Is that true?"
"No sir..." Jimbo began, but gasped as Chris pushed his chair over a little more.
"Ezra had a ring that came off one of the dead homesteaders. He got it playing poker with Private Croninger. That's why he was dragged and shot. They wanted it back," Chris explained.
"You know for certain Sgt Macklin was involved?" Willis asked.
"The horse that dragged Ezra had a nick on his left hind shoe just like Macklin's bay does, also the letter 'U'," Vin explained.
Willis closed his eyes, the letter denoted an army issue shoe. He knew Macklin and the other three soldiers were as thick as thieves, but he never imagined anything like this. The Major's eyes opened and anger colored his features as he looked up at Macklin.
"I think Private Roland will confirm everything we're saying," Chris stated.
Jimbo knew he was caught. "Listen Major, we were doing a service, getting rid of those redskins. They shouldn't be around decent folk. That couple dying was just an accident I swear we didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."
"And him," Willis stated turning to look back at Ezra. "Is he just an accident?"
Jimbo's brow furrowed and he bit at his bottom lip. "Ah, we just wanted the ring back," he defeatedly admitted.
Willis turned abruptly back to Nathan.
"Would ice help?"
Nathan blinked. "Yeah, maybe."
"I'll have some for you within the hour."
Major Willis headed for the door and stopped when he heard Macklin's pleading voice.
"Please Major, help me. You can't leave me with these men." Jimbo's eyes swept the room, seeing the looks of hate and retribution on each of the gunslinger's faces. He felt like a fish on a hook waiting to be gutted. "They'll kill me."
Major Willis snorted and a small smile tickled one corner of his mouth. "That's highly possible, Sergeant. You should 'ave thought of that before you began torturing that man." Willis shifted his gaze to Chris. "Let me know if your man dies." Willis paused. He had been made a fool of and would probably lose his position when word got out. "I'll take care of whatever you decide to do." Willis glared up at Jimbo.
Chris nodded and allowed a faint smile to tickle his lips.
"MAJOR!" Macklin yelled as the Major closed the door behind him, muffling the Sergeant's sobs.
Within the hour, four soldiers entered the clinic carrying two tubs of chipped ice. They glared up at the Sergeant, still standing on the chair.
"Quick, let's get this ice packed around him," Nathan urgently explained. "We need to get his fever down fast." He feared that it might be too late, but he wasn't ready to give up. Ezra had made it this far that stubborn streak was proving a blessing. The soldiers and lawmen scooped up handfuls of ice and placed it around the gambler's body.
The young Corporal who had rode into town earlier came up to Nathan. "Major Willis says he can have an Army doctor here by tomorrow if you need."
Nathan looked down at his friend. He had done all he could, and he didn't think there was much more anyone else could do. "Tell the Major thanks, but if Ezra's not better by then, it'll be too late."
The four soldiers departed the solemn room, leaving the six men to care for their seventh.
Nathan stretched out his long, lean body, from the chair, where he had fallen asleep. He wiped at a sliver of sunlight that drew a line down his face. He looked over to see Chris, his chin resting on his chest and his hat pulled down. Buck and Vin were stretched out on the floor alongside the bed like prone sentinels. JD and Josiah were propped up against the far wall with JD snuggled up against the preacher's shoulder. Nathan smiled at the Sergeant who was fighting the call of sleep, his head lolling as much as the noose would allow. It had been twelve hours since Chris had strung him up. Nathan amusingly wondered how long the soldier would last.
Groans and moans signaled the slow awakening of the five lawmen strewn about the room. Nathan turned his attention to Ezra who seemed to be trembling slightly. He laid a hand on the his friend's forehead relieved at its coolness. His hand then slid down to press along Ezra's pale cheek causing eyelids to flutter.
Standish leaned into the warm flesh just like he had leaned into the gun that had been pressed against his temple, seeking the same solace. It was amazing the comfort a human hand gave one's flesh.
"Ezra," Nathan's voice caused the gambler to force his eyes open. He looked up into the healer's smiling face. The room came alive as everyone rushed to surround the bed. Ezra eyes lit up as his heart filled with an unfamiliar joy that brought a smile to his face.
"Gentlemen," he haltingly managed, clearing his throat. "Why am I so cold?"
"Hell, Ez, we thought you were going to go up in flames you were so hot," Buck chimed in with his normal exuberant grin. He was never so glad to hear that southern drawl.
"Had to put you on ice to cool you down, pard," Vin added, unable to stop the grin on his face.
Suddenly Ezra felt hands gently working their way underneath him, and looked over to see Josiah preparing to lift him off the sopping wet mattress. Ezra grimaced as the preacher carefully lifted him up.
"Good to have you back, brother," the ex-preacher softly whispered into Ezra's ear.
Nathan and Buck quickly stripped off the wet bedding and flipped over the mattress. Josiah then eased the gambler back into the soft embrace of a dry bed. Nathan immediately raised Ezra's head and forced him to take a few sips of water and boiled herbs, ignoring the gambler's feeble objections.
Ezra gagged slightly and Nathan pulled the cup back.
"I swear your brews get more vile " Ezra coughed.
"Figure if I make them bad enough you all would take better care of yourselves," Nathan good-naturedly quipped.
"C'mon Ez, you know they have to taste bad to work," Buck added.
Ezra frowned as fear surged through him. "JD?"
"Right here, Ez." JD bounced in front of Buck and smiled. Ezra eased back into his pillow. He hadn't been sure if he had told the Sergeant that JD had the ring.
"Don't worry, Ez, we got the ring and the men responsible," Vin stated at if reading the cardshark's mind.
"Good," Ezra tiredly answered.
"We're going to have to get those wet clothes off ya," Nathan intoned with a smile, knowing it would be easier and less embarrassing for the southerner when he was asleep. Nathan also wanted to clean his back and the bullet wound again.
"I would prefer less of an audience," Ezra said, the simple smile remaining on his face.
"He going to be alright?" Chris sternly asked as he stepped up to the bottom of the bed. His cold gaze locked on his injured man. He never thought he'd come to care for the wily gambler. The thought of him dying had put a void in the pit of his stomach.
"Mr. Larabee...your concern...is touching," Ezra replied through a yawn.
"Just don't want to have to break in a new man," Chris quipped, a faint smile played across his lips.
"He's going to be weak for quite awhile but the worst is over," Nathan answered. "I'll just need to keep his wounds cleaned and get some food down him."
"Oh joy," Ezra murmured.
"Okay, you can cut me down now right?" Macklin stated from behind.
Ezra's eyes widen, and he stared strangely at the Sergeant who was hanging perilously by the neck in the middle of the room. He recognized the man as the one who had almost killed him.
"Good lord, you apprehended the miscreant and..." Ezra's smile grew.
"Placed him in a most appropriate position."
"Yes, figured it would help him learn to repent," Josiah stated with a grin.
"Alright, your man is fine, everything is fine. Please, cut me down," Jimbo whined. His legs and arms were numb from being in the same position for so long.
Larabee's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched as he glared at Macklin. This man had the audacity to say that everything was fine after torturing Ezra almost to death, killing two homesteaders and placing the blame on the Indians--almost starting a war. Chris strode toward the door, grabbing the chair on the way out and pulling it out from under Macklin's feet. Chris didn't even look back as he left the clinic the chair clattering against the wall. Macklin hung for a moment, sputtering and choking as the noose tightened around his throat his face turning blue.
Vin released an exasperated sigh and calmly walked over to the closet door. Pulling his knife, he cleanly cut through the rope, allowing Macklin to fall to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up. Buck yanked at the noose to loosen its hold on the Sergeant's neck.
"That son-of-a-bitch was going to kill me anyway," Macklin sputtered as Buck grabbed him and pulled him to his feet.
"You think?" Buck retorted and shoved the Sergeant toward the door.
Judge Travis allowed the Major to take his men into custody after assurances that they would be punished to the fullest extent. Ezra made a written desposition against the soldiers and tying them to the Schorr's murder. Chris, Buck and Vin had the pleasure of arresting Parson. They all faced life in prison, except Roland who was given a lighter sentence for confessing and telling the Judge that the Indians had nothing to do with the burnings.
Ezra was slowly improving, much to everyone's relief and Nathan's grief. The conman was incorrigible to say the least, but Nathan was never so glad to be dealing with the exasperating gambler instead of burying him.
Vin came up behind Nathan, who was kneeling down beside the grave of Mrs. Jane Schorr. The tracker silently watched as his friend dug deep into the earth then laid the gold band inside covering it. Nathan stood and said a few silent words then turned to see Vin.
"Thought she might like the ring back," Nathan sadly stated. "JD didn't feel right keeping it and no one knew what else to do with it.
Nathan looked up into the clear blue sky smiling at the graceful movements of a single hawk soaring above. "I'll never understand man's wanton brutality against another."
Vin laid a hand on the healer's shoulder. "Hope you never do. I think the only way someone could understand it, is to be a part of it." Vin looked up at the call of the hawk. All their lives had been full of needless violence. "The day brutality is not a part of us is the day we soar like a bird."
Nathan smiled. "And maybe not even then," he murmured under his breath.