Part 11

In the inky blackness of the aftermath, Chris blinked, confused and disorientated by the creaking and groaning monstrosity that entombed him.  He momentarily forgot where he was and was tempted to surrender to the dull wave of haziness that beckoned.  Larabee groaned, wincing at the fire inside his head and concentrated on the heavy weight that pressed into the middle of his back, pinning him to the floor.  The pain and discomfort cleared the fog in his mind.  He cautiously shifted his lower limbs, relieved to find them free and unimpeded, but a spasm of aches and pains rippled along his spine where the object dug into his back.   

His face scrunched into a frown and with an almighty thrust of his hips he dislodged the item.  With a distinct sigh of relief, it fell alongside him and landed with a splash, the unseen weight sending a spray of water into Larabee’s face.  Water?!   

“Shit!”  The cold and brackish water cleared his head, as nothing else could.  A burst of garbled grunts echoed in the eerie stillness as Chris staggered in the darkness to come to his knees.  Beyond the buzzing inside his head, the gunslinger belatedly realised that he was kneeling in a shallow depth of water.  He patted his chest and discovered the front of his shirt and pants were soaked.  Could this get any worse?  “Fuck,” he swore, squinting to see inside the crippled carriage.    

Larabee gave no thoughts to the whys, how or what had caused the accident.  There was time for analysis later, once they were free and all his men were safe.  “Vin!  Ezra!”  The carriage had come to rest and was currently filling with water.   If they didn’t get out soon, they would be drowned in the railcar.   Gotta get out!  “Vin!  Ezra!  We gotta leave here now!” He stumbled through the cabin, feeling his way through the chaos and confusion.  The water lapped at his ankles and other than his sloshing, the eerie silence fed his anxieties.   

“Tanner!  Damn it, answer,” he implored.  His panting breath sounds were loud to his ears, so he held his breath, straining to catch any sounds he might have ordinarily missed.  After what felt an eternity, Chris expelled the breath in a harsh gush, and sucked in another lungful.  He called again, fearing the mute response.  Why don’t they answer?  Surely such a response could only mean one thing, but he wasn’t going to contemplate that.  Both men must have survived!  He did!  His actions grew sharper and more agitated, worry and fear drove his wayward search.  He tossed loose chairs and boxes to the high end of the carriage, clearing a path toward the sloping end that was filling quickly with murky water.  In the crash, everything had slipped to the lower end, and the carriage listed on its side with one end higher than the other; surely his friends were safe under all the rubble?  But ya can still drown in a puddle of water.  No!  He wouldn’t think on that!   

“Tanner?” Chris paused his frantic movements, cocking his head to the side and listening.  The soft ripple of water and his heavy rasping breaths were the only sounds in the cabin.  Goddamn it!  “Vin!  Ezra!  Answer me!” he commanded.  “I’m not leaving this death pit unless the both of ya are with me,” he muttered, striving to reassure himself. 

Chris planted his feet in a wide stance, trying to get as much purchase on the slippery floor as the twisted cabin would allow.  He didn’t want to know how quickly the cabin was filling with water, but every now and then the carriage would list further into the depths of the lake.  He could hear the soft splash of water as it entered inside and Chris wasn’t afraid to admit that he was scared. Come on, Larabee.  Pull it together!  They’re in here, just work on a section at a time.  He decreased his frantic actions and moved in a more methodical approach.  Each section he cleared pulled him further down the cabin.  And the trickle of water filling the room roared in his ears.   

It was an age before his hands gripped the woollen coat Ezra had been wearing.  A wry chuckle bubbled in his throat.  Finally!  Yes!  Chris dragged the limp form from the carnage and flipped him over onto his back, slapping the lax face.  “Ezra!  Wake up!  We’ve got to find Vin!” 

Ezra shook his head to clear the fog.  He heard Larabee call him and was staggered by the pain in his left shoulder.  Dislocated.  Damn that hurt!  “Chris?” 

“Ya okay?”  Larabee didn’t have the luxury to wait for an answer; he was running out of time to find Vin.  If the cabin continued to fill with water, Tanner would surely drown, buried beneath the chaos.  He wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

Standish groaned, wincing as he attempted to stand.  The ground moved beneath his feet and he dropped ungainly on his backside, his face contorting into a grimace as his shoulder jarred.  He swallowed back the bile, biting his lip to keep it at bay and stood again, being careful to form a wider stance.  He was forced to grip his right hand under his left elbow, and with a staggering motion, he followed Chris.  He stood at Chris’ shoulder, swaying on the spot.  He’d need to drop his left arm by his side to be of any use searching for Vin.  “Vin?” he croaked. 

Chris smiled gratefully at the gambler, at least he attempted to.  Thankfully, he needn’t worry about the Southerner.  Now they could search twice as fast.  It was only a matter of time, Vin.  Hang on, pard. 

Only then, the carriage slipped deeper into the water, the rush of water bucketed through the mangled walls and the level inside the cabin grew higher.  Both Chris and Ezra were knocked off their feet in the process and slipped further into the bowels of the wreckage.   

Part 12 

“Chris, I’ve got him.”  Ezra gasped, fumbling with a limp tracker and trying to keep his head above water.  He’d found Vin, and Ezra couldn’t have been happier.   

“Right.”  The gunslinger had regained his feet quicker and had already begun searching the rear of the sinking carriage.  This he abandoned abruptly at Standish’s claim.  “He okay?”  What he really wanted to ask was if Vin was alive, but he couldn’t voice those words. 

Standish propped the Texan’s head on his thigh, feeling for a beat at his neck.  Chris was at his side, before he could determine any injuries.  “He’s breathing.”  Cold and clammy too, or was that him? 

Larabee sighed.  “Let’s get him outside.”  As the words left his mouth, the railcar tilted and groaned, slipping deeper, yet again, into the swamp.  “Now!” he commanded, hauling a limp Tanner over his shoulder and rushing to the higher end of the carriage. 

Standish fought the gnawing sensation of lassitude and in a few steps joined Larabee.  He watched in dismay as the gunman leaned his shoulder into the doorway.  A grunt followed by several cuss words, ripped from Larabee’s mouth, but the door wouldn’t budge. The framework was splintered and rough, the door was wedged in at a slight angle.  Standish glanced at what was now the roof.  “Perhaps, we could lift Mr. Tanner out through there,” he indicated the glass free windows.  It seemed to be the only exit available. 

Chris nodded, and lowered Tanner down, propping the unconscious Texan upright.  He jumped up and climbed through the narrow hole.  Standing atop, Chris removed his jacket and hung it through the opening, hoping to protect the injured man from any remaining glass as he was passed through.  Chris dropped his head back inside.  “Pass him up, Ezra.” 

“Certainly…” Standish bit the inside of his cheek and frowned at the unconscious man seated on the floor.  He threw a worried eye up to where Chris was waiting impatiently.  Taking a deep breath, Ezra reconciled himself to the upcoming pain.  This was going to hurt!  His left arm was all but useless by his side, and every move caused a wealth of agony in its currently dislocated state.  Who’s idea had this been?   Dumb, stupid! 

“Come on, Standish!  What’s takin’ ya so long?” 

“Just determining how I should manoeuvre…” 

“Just, drag him under this hole…get a box ta stand on…and I should be able ta reach him from there,” Chris explained sarcastically.  Did he have to spell it out?   

The gambler did as he was instructed, and moved Vin into Larabee’s grip.  A weary sigh escaped his throat as the dead weight of Vin was raised through the opening.  Standish stared out the window, only seeing the dark pants of the gunslinger until he too disappeared from his line of sight.  He continued to stare at his promise of escape, and not for the first time contemplated how he could manage to make the climb.  With a dejected sigh the gambler slid down the wall and closed his eyes.  Vin was safe…Chris was safe…everything was as it should be. 

Part 13 

Larabee was blinded for a moment when he shimmied through the window, the dawning sun speared silver rays flashing over the horizon.  The new day brought with it a sense of tranquillity; it was hard to imagine the dangers that had loomed during the night hours.  He even grinned momentarily, all things considered.  That was until he spied the churned up path that the carriage had gouged into the knoll on its way down the slope.  Somewhere up there, the rail tracks led to home.  The gunman didn’t want to consider how they were going to survive the journey back.  The train hadn’t stopped, and there were no signs of civilization.  It would be a long walk home.  And who knew what dangers they would face along the way. 

“Need to lose some weight, pard,” Chris mumbled under the heavy load of Tanner.  He grunted a number of times and his cargo seemed to slip, but Chris had no intention of letting Vin fall into the water.   

Chris lowered the Texan gently to the ground, part way up the incline.  It would have to do.  There was little shade and even fewer trees, but the filtered sunlight was at least dispersed a fraction through the foliage of the sole cottonwood tree. And it was only dawn…the day had yet to warm up. Chris was concerned that if Vin remained unconscious there was little the gunman could do for the injured man.  He grimaced as his eyes passed over the still figure; Vin obviously suffered a broken leg in the crash.  He winced at the thought of fixing the break.  Best to do it while he was still out.  “Ezra…get something we can use for splints.”  He didn’t look up, kneeling in the dry earth to assess Vin’s injuries further.   

Not hearing any movement behind him, Larabee glanced up, frowning at the empty space.  “Ezra!”  He licked his lips and his breath caught in his throat as he looked at the sinking carriage uncertainly.  Oh, he couldn’t be?  Chris jumped slightly as the railcar creaked, slipping deeper into the marsh.  It wouldn’t be long now before the entire carriage was swallowed whole.  Surely Ezra wasn’t still inside? 

He glanced at Vin and down at the sinking carriage. He was going to have to leave the tracker.  He scanned the barren hillside; would Vin be safe?  The railcar creaked and groaned, echoing loudly in the early morning.  What in tarnation was Standish playing at?  Was he deliberately trying to drown?  Or had Chris missed something important?  This last thought had Chris on his feet and sprinting down the slope.  “Standish…get the hell out of there now!”  Still no sign of the missing gambler. He charged into the soft edge of the lake, his feet sinking in the thick mud and slipping slightly as he stepped onto the exposed portion of the carriage. All the while he was calling out for the gambler.  Reaching the place he’d originally exited, he threw his face back inside the gloomy cabin.  “Standish!” he shouted, seeing the gambler slowly picking his way through the contents of the railcar.  “Get up here!  I need help to set Vin’s leg.”  What in the hell was he doing? 

Ezra swayed drunkenly, rubbing the knot at the back of his neck and wincing.  He looked up, fighting a bout of vertigo.  “Mr. Larabee…I’ve collected a few items you might find necessary¾” 

“Of all the stupid…I ain’t concerned about any of that stuff!” Chris rebuked loudly.  “I want ya out of there now!” 

Ezra held the gunslinger’s hat in his hand, momentarily disconcerted as to what he should do.  The water poured inside the cabin and it lapped at his thighs, but it was significantly deeper at the opposite end.  The carriage tilted more, the heavy end dragging it deeper into the water.  Ezra slipped with the sudden movement, and with a startled cry, disappeared under the water. 

“Ezra!” Larabee yelled, jumping through the hole and joining his friend inside.   He pulled the gambler above the surface and almost dropped him instantly when Standish screamed in pain.  Damn!  Shoulda realised the stubborn cuss was hurt!  “What’s wrong?” 

Panting and struggling in the gunslinger’s grip to firmly plant his feet, Ezra ignored the question…or perhaps he just didn’t hear it over the buzz that was roaring through his head. 

“Relax a bit…and stop struggling.” 

Standish found his feet and pulled away from Larabee.  Swaying he searched the cabin.  “I found blankets…they’re rather waterlogged at present, but they will dry.” 

Chris nodded, spying the bundle, and agreeing that they would be useful.  “Ya hurt?”  He saw the confused expression and the telltale look Standish gave his shoulder.  And a fresh trail of blood trickled down his face while Chris watched.   

“I’m fine.” 

He grinned at the blasé answer given. “Then, let’s get out of here,” Larabee directed a wave upwards.   “I’ll go first.” 

Ezra staggered through the rising water.  “What about the blankets?” 

Chris grinned, removing his Stetson from the gambler’s hand and planted it firmly on his head.  “I’ll fetch ‘em.”  Right after I’ve got you out.  Lowering his body halfway through the window Chris reached down for Ezra.  “Give me yer hand¾” 

“I don’t think¾” 

“That’s fine by me, Ezra…Don’t think…just do as I say,” he ordered, “and stop arguing.” 

After several minutes both men were sitting on top of the carriage exhausted. “Vin’s up there.” He pointed half way up the hill.  Now that Chris had Ezra out of the carriage he gave the gambler a thorough going over.  Satisfied that he wasn’t about to expire, Chris helped Standish off the carriage and guided him up the hill.   

Part 14 

Standish sat in a rush, his head falling between his knees.  “How’s Vin?” 

Chris dropped to his haunches by the tracker, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  Vin lay exactly as he’d been left, but there was an oilcloth bag on his chest.  And Chris had not placed it there.  He scanned the hills intensely and back to the ground surrounding Vin.  The branches of the tree were given the same scrutiny.  Nothing!  And no footprints, other than his. Chris cautiously picked up the bag, and opened it.  “Shit!”   The bag dangled loosely from his hand. 

“Mr. Larabee?” Ezra prompted, startled by the gunslinger’s exclamation.   Surely Vin had not…died?     

Seeing the colour literally fall from the Southerner’s face he quickly amended.  “He’s still out.”  And remembering Ezra didn’t know already, he added, “Vin’s leg is busted.”  He gingerly pulled the drawstring on the oilcloth bag and dispose of it later.  For the moment he hid it behind Tanner’s body.  Chris quickly checked over the Texan.  He worried more so, that something had occurred while he’d been rescuing Ezra.  He lingered over Vin’s unconscious form, reassuring himself that the killer had only left Vin with a souvenir. But how it had been delivered baffled Larabee. 

“What is in it?” Standish broke through Chris’ reverie. 

Larabee meet Ezra’s eyes.  Damn!  Standish had seen it.  “Bits of fingers.”  No point denying it.  Ten of them he’d hazard a guess; he hadn’t counted them.  He wondered briefly where they’d find the corpse’s eyes. 

Ezra grimaced.  “From our cadaver on the train?” 

Chris shrugged.  Ezra had seen the bag, now was as good a time as any to get rid of it.  Burying it would have worked, but animals could easily dig that up.  He shuddered; he would be more satisfied with tossing it in the lake.   

“How did Vin come… to have this…bag?”  

Chris massaged the nape of his neck.  “He didn’t…least not ‘til I came ta get you out.” 

Ezra arched his eyebrows.  “Then… how¾?” 

Chris looked at the ground, some of the grass was pressed flat in places, but most could probably be attributed to him and Ezra.  “I dunno.”  He watched the Southerner frown and adjust his grip under his left elbow.  “Yer shoulder out?”  

“Hmmmm,” Ezra replied noncommittally, still considering the ramifications of the… gift. 

“Reckon I could fix it?”  At least then Ezra could use his arm.  “How does Nathan do it?” 

Ezra looked up, an expression of dread on his face.  After a long pause, the gambler responded.  “He…pulled it¾” Standish attempted to explain. 

“Ah huh.”  Larabee picked up the gambler’s wrist and gripped it tightly.  He had absolutely no idea what he was doing and hoped he didn’t make it worse.  “Here goes¾” Chris yanked hard on the injured arm, dropping it soundly when Ezra screamed and rolled away hugging his arm to his side.  Shit!  “Ezra…Ezra…Hell, I’m sorry¾” he apologised.  Standish continued to moan, rocking on his side in agony.   “Next time will work¾” 

“No!” the gambler answered gruffly, curling away from Larabee.  “I’m fine…help Vin…I’m fine,” he stuttered. 

Chris grimly nodded at the buck-skinned man; he needed to set Tanner’s leg before he came around, but he needed Ezra’s help for that.  “Gonna have to fix yer shoulder, first.”  Standish shook his head vehemently.  “Ya gotta trust me, and tell me exactly how Nathan does it,” he implored.  God he hoped he could do this. 

The gambler wearily shook his head, resting it on his knees.  “Can’t.” 

“I’ll give ya a few minutes, then I’m doin’ it,” Chris announced.  He’d find some splints for Vin’s leg while he gave Standish a moment’s reprieve.  “Ain’t plannin’ on sittin’ around here all day.” 

Part 15 

Chris returned for the blankets and a few other items he deemed necessary - a bottle of scotch, which mysteriously survived the wreck intact, and a canteen among them. It wasn’t long after his final trip into the doomed car that the carriage disappeared beneath the water’s surface; the only evidence left behind were the vast slide marks etched down the incline into the lake.  Hell of a way to die.  He’d always figured he’d die at the end of a gun.  Thank God they’d all gotten out safely, if somewhat injured. 

Vin had regained his senses on and off during the morning; thankfully not until after his broken leg was set and splinted.  Standish had been another matter.  Chris’d had no idea how to set the Southerner’s shoulder; it had seemed simply enough, but after the first attempt, he revised that opinion. Even when he did put it back in place, Chris wasn’t totally convinced, but Standish could at least move it and managed to assist him to fix Vin’s leg. Larabee had then fashioned a stretcher utilizing the blankets and they’d set off at a hectic pace, basically following the railway line.   

Larabee kept an eye on their path and a wary eye on the every tree, rock or brush that could conceal someone - it didn’t escape his notice that all wildlife was unaccountable silent.  Even the hawk that flew high above them just soared on the up currents.  He wondered if the silence bothered either of the other lawmen.  Chris wiped the sweat off his forehead on his shoulder leaving a dirty smear on his shirt…and cussed under his breath, grumbling at the flies that buzzed about his face.  He tripped with as much regularity as Standish; his excuse being that it was difficult to watch his every step while he safeguarded them.  He glanced at his sidearm and wondered how ineffective it would be with both his hands fully occupied.  He sighed, biting back a groan, his mind swirling with images of the night. 

One image that kept replaying with monotonous regularity was the corkscrewing ride inside the carriage as it jumped off the tracks and bounced back to earth.  Before he’d been knocked out, Chris recalled feeling scared, for himself, and the others.  He remembered how useless he’d been, flying and tumbling out of control in the carriage, futilely groping in the dark for a handhold, and hearing the grunts and groans of pain being inflicted on the other pair.  He had caught hold of Tanner at the start, but with the jolting and shaking about he’d lost connection quickly.  If he’d managed to keep a tighter grip…perhaps Tanner might not have broken his leg.  If he’d listened to the tracker and jumped from the speeding carriage instead of stalling, perhaps they may have escaped with fewer injuries.  He kicked at a rock angrily, sending it rolling off their track; he wished he could as easily dispel his ineptitude at not being able to prevent their disaster. 

“Would a small rest be permitted?” Standish drawled, interrupting Larabee’s reverie. 

“Damn it, Ezra!  We only took one twenty minutes ago,” Larabee snarled, not even bothering to turn and face the gambler. 

Ezra groaned, bumping the stretcher as he adjusted his grip. The groan turned into a choked gasp.  God, his shoulder was a coiled knot of pure agony.  The muscles in his neck were taut and there was a tingling sensation that spread down his left arm to his fingertips. His face was a mask of indifference, but maintaining the façade was almost as difficult as putting one foot in front of the other.  He prayed he wouldn’t stumble; such an accident would cause Tanner more agony, not to mention his own, and also garner the wrath of Chris.  He closed his eyes wearily; taking the rear end of the stretcher had allowed him some measure of relief, he only had to put one foot in front of the other.  And he could watch the gunslinger; not having Larabee’s reproachful eyes boring into him all day had been a blessing.  The added advantage was of course, being able to monitor Vin on the stretcher.   

“Might be worthwhile stopping f’r a bit,” Tanner rasped. 

Chris lowered his end.  “Yer awake.  Ya hurtin’?”   

“No more ‘an I expect.” 

Larabee arched his eyebrows.  “Ya thirsty?” 

He nodded.  “That’d be good.  Ezra looks done in.” 

The Southerner snapped up his head at the mention of his name.  To his dismay, he hadn’t even noticed Vin was awake until he’d spoken.  So much for his assertion that he was keeping an eye on the tracker.  “I’m fine, Mr. Tanner.  It is you who is injured.” 

Vin sat up on his elbows, grimacing as he did so.  He continued to stare sceptically at the gambler.  Who was Ezra trying to fool?  Tanner could see the fatigue and pain written all over the conman’s face.  He had to be hurting.  So why was he denying it?  Surely Chris had noticed Ezra’s pallor, if not, it was about time the gunslinger took a closer look.  And Vin was more than ready for a rest – all the jostling around was paining him awful bad.  Damn rotten luck…why’d he have to break a leg?  “Wouldn’t mind stoppin’ m’self.” 

“Sure,” Chris grunted.  He wanted to keep going, needed to put more distance yet between them and the accident, but he could seen the logic in resting.   “I’m gonna scout on ahead for a while longer.”  He shared a look with Tanner, knowing instinctively that the tracker understood his message - watch out for each other.  “Ezra, ya stay here with, Vin.”   

“Watch yer back, cowboy,” Vin called as he eased back to the blanket, patting his sawn-off Winchester reassuringly.  He didn’t expect to use it, but there was always that possibility. 

Ezra fumed, biting off the sarcastic retort on the tip of his tongue.  Why does Larabee always do that?  “He’s incensed with me,” the gambler moaned several minutes after Larabee’s departure. 

“No, he ain’t.” 

“I beg to differ, but you have not been conscious so could not possibly know.”  It seemed that after every word the Southerner had spoken this morning, Larabee had snarled or snapped at him.  Eventually Ezra had curbed his tongue, only requesting a respite when his shoulder was screaming in agony and protested the use.  And this time had been no different. He could have pressed on, carrying his share of the load, but he was not willing to upset both Vin and Chris by being unable to hold up his end, and subsequently dropping it.  Heaven forbid, Larabee’s reaction to that.  And Vin.  A ten-minute respite was all he’d been after, just enough time to ease the ache in his shoulder, but not too long that it would stiffen. 

Vin growled.  “I ain’t up f’r arguin’, Ezra, just take my word on it, okay?  Larabee is just tryin’ ta get us home safe.”  Why couldn’t he see this? It was what they all wanted. 

The gambler couldn’t bring himself to refute Tanner’s claim.  After all, none of this was either Vin or Larabee’s fault.  It was his alone, and he didn’t blame either man for placing the responsibility for this debacle solely where it belonged - on his head.  “You’d best rest while the opportunity exists, my friend.”   

Vin stared intently at the Southerner, surprised that Standish held his gaze.  He grinned through a spasm in his leg, eventually it turned into a grimace.  God, he hoped his leg was set right.  Larabee had fixed it and bound it tight to some splints, but he’d also tied his good leg to the busted one, and it left him dependent solely on Standish and the gunslinger.  It was not an arrangement he was comfortable with.  “Be more comf’table if ya could free m’ good leg?” 

The gambler glanced Tanner’s legs, wincing in sympathy.  “Supposedly having them secured together gives the affected limb a better chance with stability…” 

“I ain’t after a quack’s opinion…I just want ta be able to move some more.” 

Ezra bowed his head and sighed.  Now he was offending Tanner.  “Certainly…”  He’d let Larabee convince the headstrong tracker of the importance when he returned. 

“Thanks…that’s better.” Vin stretched his good leg and wriggled his butt on the blanket.  A startled gasp rolled off his tongue when he jarred his injured leg unintentionally.  “Arggg…” he moaned. 

“Vin…” 

Tanner took a long moment before he could speak.  “Whiskey…” he hissed. 

Standish brought out the bottle and rested it on Vin’s lips.  “Here.” 

“Thanks…and no I don’t want ya ta retie m’ legs,” Tanner growled.  He saw the knowing look, - the ‘I told ya so’, attitude - but he was thrown by the note of regret that passed over Ezra’s face.  “It’s better this way…believe me,” he drawled. 

Standish smiled thinly, not convinced.  “As you wish.”  He found a spot of thick grass and settled back against a log.  His headache still bothered him and he would love to succumb to his baser needs and sleep the afternoon away, but that was not an option.   Larabee had left Vin in his care; it was up to him to protect the tracker.   

Ezra had not forgotten the frightening presence from the train and the subsequent disaster in the early hours of this very day.  The horror and trepidation was still fresh in his mind.  He feared that the train wreck was only the start of more menace to come.  And the oilcloth bag Larabee had discovered with Vin was another anomaly. How had that appeared?  And what was its significance?  He glanced along the path Chris had taken earlier, wondering how safe the gunslinger was off by himself.  Standish had never considered Chris unable to defend himself against ordinary means, not by a long shot, but this was suspiciously supernatural and even a mere mortal would have difficulty defeating the unknown.  Lord, he prayed Chris returned unharmed. 

Part 16 

Chris Larabee jogged alongside the silent rail track.  His shoulders ached and muscles tensed in his calves and thighs; it had been a long time since they’d been accustomed to this treatment.  He must be getting old, he lamented.  There was a time in his past when such physical exertion wouldn’t have caused an issue of complaint, but his body had been in better shape then.  Living as a peacekeeper in town, barely raised a sweat.  Certainly work on his ranch was more taxing, but he didn’t manage to get out there more than once or twice a week.  Such an erratic workout couldn’t maintain his fitness.  He wondered briefly how the others kept in shape.   

Chris realized that he shouldn’t be pushing either of his friends like he had been that morning, but he desperately wanted as much distance between them and the doomed carriage before nightfall.  It also put them that much closer to home.  Larabee couldn’t shrug off the imminent shroud of dread that seemed to be keeping pace with the three lawmen.  Even now, it seemed to follow him, and Chris stopped in his tracks suddenly and scrutinised the trail he’d forged for signs of life, but only the persistent wariness stirred in his gut.   

The gunslinger spun on his heels, searching and listening.  A breeze brushed over his sweaty face, cooling his skin, but leaving a trail of ice running through his veins.  His skin crawled and goose bumps dotted his flesh.  His boots kicked up a dust, and his nervous skip had the gunslinger landing inelegantly in the dirt.  “Shit!” he sputtered, wiping a mouthful of dry grass and dirt from his lips.  Larabee shook his head and scowled…Thank Christ nobody saw that!  He slowly climbed to his feet and began to walk. 

Somewhere out there, eyes watched his every move.  Larabee frowned, attempting to hide the tremors that raced along his spine or his fingers inching toward the hilt of his Colt.  Chris stopped again.  His nerves were shot.  “WHAT ARE YA WAITIN’ FOR?” His voice roared loud in his ears.  He stood panting, motionless in the blazing sunshine, waiting in vain for a reply.  The wind picked up, howling and whining though the tops of the trees, and he paused in thought, hearing the tinkling of …bells.  Larabee squinted against the glare, wondering how in blue blazes he was hearing bells out in the middle of nowhere.  Probably a bird, he convinced himself and kept moving. 

Chris decided he shouldn’t continue much further; already he’d left Tanner and Standish alone for too long.  “Just over the rise,” he muttered and set off at a steady sprint.  As he reached the crest, the gunslinger caught sight of smoke trailing a path through the valley below.  Finally, he grinned, and he set off in that direction.  Once he’d left the railway line his progress slowed.  It was going to be a fair hike for the small group to make to the shelter, but they needed some protection from the scourges of the night.  Not that Larabee believed in such nonsense, but given the strange circumstances surrounding the carriage derailment, he wasn’t about to quibble.  And he figured Tanner and Standish would feel more comfortable with a roof over their heads for the night. 

The gunslinger had no intention of going the full distance, but he’d at least like a better glimpse of the place.  Not that he’d been presented with many options; the countryside was more deserted than a whorehouse in a leper colony.  Chris snorted and rolled his eyes; damn, that was one of Buck’s euphemisms.  It was difficult to get a descent view through the woods, but there was definitely smoke rising above the house, and not a small brush fire. “Hello the house?”  It was useless calling out really; he was too far away to be heard.  It was some distance to the shelter, but Larabee had seen enough.  Satisfied, the man in black made his way back to his friends.  And they damn well better be safe! 

Part 17 

“Standish, wake up.”  Larabee crouched by the Southerner and lightly shook the younger man.  He wished he didn’t have to do this, but after finding the huge knot on the back of his head this morning, Chris was concerned about allowing him to sleep too deeply.  He guessed correctly that Ezra had a headache and the way his eyes strayed while they talked, he presumed accurately, that Standish had a concussion.  He was worried that once Ezra hit the ground, they wouldn’t be able to shift him for the next few days, and Chris didn’t want to spend a moment longer in the wilderness with the two injured men, than was absolutely necessary.  They needed a doctor.  Some horses wouldn’t go astray either. 

Standish moaned and tried to shy away.  “Go away.” 

“I found us a place to stay the night, and I need yer help to get Vin there.” 

Ezra’s head rolled on his shoulder, and his eyelids fluttered.  “Vin?” 

“¾Is hurt.  Do ya understand me?” he questioned the concussed gambler. 

Standish cracked open an eye, and it rolled as he fought to focus.  “Vin!” he exclaimed, bolting upright and guiltily glancing about.  The Remington in his lap, slipped to the ground and a wave of nausea hit him like a hammer, forcing the colour to drain from his face.  Alarmed and realising his mistake, he shamefacedly hung his head and gulped down the bile.  Damn!  He couldn’t even do a decent job of keeping watch over Tanner. How was he ever going to earn their trust? 

“Ain’t nothin’ ta fret over,” Vin drawled, raising his Winchester an inch off the stretcher. 

Larabee grinned.  Leave it to Tanner!  “He been asleep long?” 

“Ten minutes, tops,” Vin answered with a grimace.  “Tried ta keep him awake, but with this leg…” The minute he moved, even slightly, was a major cause of pain. 

Chris nodded in understanding.  “Found us a place to sleep.  Looks peaceful enough, saw smoke comin’ out the chimney, but couldn’t see no one about.” 

“Figure they’ll let us spend the night, cowboy?” 

“I’m sure Ezra’ll be able to talk ‘em around.” 

“How far?” Ezra asked, still attempting to clear his muddled mind. 

“Probably will make it just b‘fore nightfall, if we don’t dawdle.” 

“Could prob’ly get there faster if ya weren’t carryin’ me.”  It was bad enough having a busted leg, but having to rely on friends to carry him everywhere while he lay back and took it easy…it wasn’t in his nature. 

“What’re ya suggestin’?” 

“Reckon, if I had one of ya on each side of me¾” 

Larabee shook his head, dismissing the idea completely.  “Just enjoy the ride, Tanner.”   

Part 18 

It had taken them as long as Chris had predicted to reach the shelter and during that time Larabee and Standish had come to an unspoken understanding regarding the handling of the stretcher, which was fortunate as both lawmen were too exhausted to argue.  As one, Chris and Ezra set their load down.  Vin shifted slightly on the blanket as the stretcher touched the ground, but otherwise didn’t stir.   

The wind moaned, sounding suspiciously like lost souls warning them away and it whistled through the eves of the shack, swirling thick dust into the air.  The very atmosphere surrounding the place vibrated.  An early fog settled over the building and the damp moisture of the cloud diminished any possible welcome further. 

Standish stared in utter astonishment.  “Surely you jest.  Someone lives in that?”  

“Not all folks have money enough to throw around,” Chris rebuked.  He didn’t want the Southerner insulting their hosts before they could be taken in for the night.  “Go ahead and knock.”  Larabee had convinced Standish that he should introduce them, hoping his finesse and Southern charm would guarantee them shelter for the night. 

“You don’t seriously believe anyone resides in this…. hovel?” 

“Just knock, Ezra,” Larabee hissed. 

The gambler shrugged, momentarily forgetting his shoulder and wincing.  He rapped on the weathered timber, turned and leaned back on the door, taking in the unkempt yard and brambles that grew out of the well.  Old tiles were scattered around the perimeter of the yard and Ezra stepped back to take in the view of the roof, shaking his head at the veritable patchwork.  Hope it doesn’t rain.    To make matters worse, the windows were broken and the glass lay in pieces under the windowsills. Going to be a very chilly night, especially if this wind keeps up.  “Obviously the residents believe in a slipshod approach to house maintenance.” The comment was purely for Larabee’s benefit.  In Ezra’s opinion, the house was abandoned.  But there was the steady stream of smoke that haunted the old relic, and that seemed to be the only indication that anyone might possibly be in residence. Perhaps a squatter? Disregarding propriety, Standish trampled through the thorny brambles and peered through the window. 

“Standish!” 

“No one’s home…can’t we go in?” Standish whined.  Gone was the large vocabulary, reduced to simple understated words of need.  Ezra was exhausted, mentally and physically.   

Larabee rolled his eyes, it didn’t take a genius to see how drained the gambler was, but he wasn’t going to break into someone’s home just yet.  “Knock again, there may be someone about.” 

“Fine,” Standish drawled, and he hammered rudely on the coarse door.  “I suggest we take Mr. Tanner inside, and when the owners return, beg their forgiveness,” he challenged sarcastically. 

Chris sighed; he didn’t want to spend the night out in the open, when there was some form of shelter available.  And the sun was dropping quickly from the sky; they would be surrounded by darkness soon.  “Do it.” 

Standish gratefully pressed open the door and stepped over the threshold.  Other than the dying fire in the grate, the single room was alarmingly empty.  Even the earthen floor was bereft of footprints, making him question how the fire had been laid.  “Welcome to my ever so humble abode,” Ezra muttered caustically. 

Chris eyed the room critically, seeing the same room as the Southerner, but he felt overwhelmed with the urge to run, to get his friends as far away from here as possible.  He shared a brief look of understanding with Ezra, then shook off the heavy cloak of doom.  “We’ll get Vin settled, then I’ll scout around for dinner.” 

Part 19 

With the last vestiges of the light rapidly dwindling from the day the wind grew in intensity.  It had been building throughout the afternoon, washing the clouds across the pale blue sky and working against their progress towards the shelter.  A bitter whine whistled annoyingly through the cabin’s walls and dust and debris was an undesirable nuisance they had to cope with as they fought to keep the fire protected.   

As there was no other source of lighting available, a ready supply of fuel was necessary for the hungry fire.  The gambler had dragged inside every available branch, log and twig that he could find within the grounds surrounding the abandoned home.  The entire western wall was crowded with the mass of firewood.  

“Ya collect enough wood, Ezra?” Chris taunted, grinning at the large stockpile. 

Standish snorted.  “It won’t harm being prepared, and¾” he glanced meaningfully at the roof, “¾it will be a gruelling job keeping the room sufficiently heated during the night with all this ventilation.” 

“Ya plannin’ on keepin’ watch over it all night?”   

Ezra bit his lip and frowned uncertainly.  “I thought perhaps…we could share?” 

Larabee threw back his head and laughed.  God that felt good.  He turned his back on the gambler not granting him an answer and squatted down beside Vin.  He saw the smile that lurked behind the mask of pain.  “Ya holdin’ up?” 

“Yeah,” Tanner agreed.  “Could do with some of Nathan’s teas right about now.  Wash down the grub ya made, too.”  His leg was pure agony, and any simple movement damn near had him passing out. 

“Somethin’ wrong with my cookin’?” 

“Nah…If ya don’t mind crunching on dirt…” 

Standish chuckled; the wind had been particularly unkind while the rabbits roasted over the open flames.  “Gave it a rather rudimentary flavour.” 

“Hell, ya coulda both gone without…didn’t hear no complaints earlier.”  In fact, the three lawmen had eaten the meal in relative silence.  After the arduous trek and long day without any sustenance they had devoured the meagre offerings quickly. 

“Filled the hollow.” 

------- 

“Ya don’t reckon the boys at home are in trouble?” 

“Why?”  Larabee twirled the brim of his hat in his fingers in thought. 

“Just thinkin’…how everything was happenin’ around the time we left town.” 

“Yer wagon burning, the snakes in Ezra’s room…the dead calf out at my place?  That what ya referrin’ to?”  There were other things too, but he hadn’t mentioned them to Tanner. 

“Yeah…but Buck’s accident too, and Josiah leavin’ town.” 

Chris ran his fingers through his hair.  “Awful lot of coincidences.”   

“But ya knew this was gonna happen, didn’t ya?” 

“Figured somethin’ was goin’ down,” Larabee answered softly.  “Wouldna guessed at this.” 

“That why ya went ta so much trouble ta get Ezra to invite ya along?” 

Chris shrugged.  “Couldn’t help if I wasn’t here.” 

“Ya reckon the tickets weren’t from Maude?” 

“Not unless she’s involved in all this.” 

“So it was planned from the beginnin’.  Ya don’t reckon Ezra had anythin’ ta do with this?”  Tanner glanced at the door, expecting Standish to come back and choked on his next words at the gambler’s entrance. 

“It is blowing a gale outside.”  He glanced from Chris to Vin and immediately sensed the tension.  “My apologies for interrupting…if you’d like to continue I am willing to return outside.” 

“Said all we got ta say,” Tanner stated.  “Ain’t got no reason ta leave.” 

Ezra remained silent, understanding more than he wanted to. 

Part 20 

Larabee grinned, watching the gambler creep closer to the hearth and push another log in between the flames.  A few sparks jumped out as he poked through the coals and set the log in the centre.  Chris sat forward.  “Why don’t ya let me take this watch?”  The smirk widened when Ezra dropped the branch he’d been using as a poker into the fire.  The amusement was clear in his voice.  “I promise not to let yer fire go out.” 

“Very droll.”  Ezra absently rolled his shoulder, gripping his elbow to limit too much movement.   

“Yer shoulder botherin’ ya?” 

Standish stepped backwards and was quick to reassure.   “It’s fine.” 

Larabee sat up on his haunches; he’d seen the momentary flash of panic in the Southerner’s eyes.  Damn, it had been unfortunate that it had taken Chris three attempts to set Ezra’s dislocated shoulder.  With each new attempt he’d lost what little trust the gambler had bestowed on him in a matter of seconds. It had to be aching!  And it probably didn’t do the injury any favours by having to carry Vin on the stretcher all day either.  “Is it really?” he asked seriously. 

Standish sighed; a small fluttering grin graced his mouth.  “It is nothing compared to Vin’s injury,” he countered, not wanting to elicit any unwarranted sympathy.   

“Hmmmm,” Chris frowned at Tanner.  It was going to be another tiresome day for them all tomorrow; he hoped everyone was up to it.  “Just the same…I’ll take over…I want ya ready to take yer share come morning.” 

Standish glanced at the slumbering tracker.  “I shan’t forsake my responsibility,” he retorted irritably. 

“I never expected ya would.” 

“Oh…” He’d not considered this possible response.   

“I don’t know how much ya heard earlier¾” 

Standish quickly refuted, “I did not eavesdrop on your conversation.” 

“If ya were…ya could have chosen a better time ta barge in¾” 

Standish’s mouth fell open.  “I do not need to hear this.” 

“Damn it!  Would ya just listen ta me!” Larabee shouted irritably, jumping to his feet and pushing Ezra back against the wall.  “If ya’d waited a few more minutes I’d’ve had the chance to answer Vin.” 

Ezra stared at the gunslinger in confusion.  “I have no idea what you are alluding to.” 

“Ya didn’t hear anything?”  

“Nothing but that horrendous howling windstorm out there.”  What had Larabee and Tanner been discussing?  Why was Chris acting so defensive?  From their reactions earlier he gathered they’d been talking about him.  But what had he done this time? 

He’d put his foot in it now.  Damn!   “We don’t reckon Maude sent ya the tickets.”   

Was that all?  “I concur.” 

Chris did a double take.  Standish agreed with him.  “So who sent ‘em?” 

Ezra sighed.  He had his suspicions, but voicing them might not be such a good choice.  “That I do not know.” 

Part 21 

Tanner woke choking for his very breath.  Strangled gasps and frenzied thrashing were tempered with the gale force winds that blew outside¾ the night had not settled the turbulent winds.  Vin clawed at his neck and winced as his fingers buried deeper into his skin, digging holes through his flesh and effectively tightening around his windpipe.  “Chris…” he hissed weakly.   

Larabee jolted alert, startled by the disquieting moan.  He rubbed at his temples, wincing at the dull ache that still lingered.  “Vin?  Ya need somethin’?”  Chris frowned at the wispy cloud that hovered over the tracker.  As the gunslinger approached, the cloud dissipated, giving Chris a clearer view of the fraught Texan.  “Vin!” he shouted, alarmed at the desperate pose and the suffocating wheeze. 

“He’s choking himself,” Ezra claimed brushing aside the stunned gunman and grabbing hold of Tanner’s arms, attempting to pry tight fingers away from his neck.  “VIN, STOP IT!” 

Chris jumped onto the opposite side, following Ezra’s example and taking hold of Vin’s left wrist, but the tracker continued to struggle for breath.   

His eyes wide with terror and panic far outweighing his normal common sense, Vin fought with everything he had.  He didn’t feel his broken leg; he could only feel his lungs fighting to take in every breath.  So he fought.  It didn’t occur to him that he was fighting against Chris and Ezra, who were only trying to help him.  His face burned, turning bright red while his lips were tinged with blue.   

“For God’s sake, Tanner, breathe!” 

Standish plied his whole body weight onto the frantic clasping hands; he was astounded by the strength of the injured man.  His face was almost pressed against Vin’s shoulder and he could hear the fight wrought for each laboured breath as it was snatched desperately through blue lips.  Vin hadn’t been choking himself as Ezra had first believed, but his actions were hampering his ability to catch his breath. 

“Can’t…Breathe…” Vin rasped out in a panic.  Hurts!  Chest feels likes it’s caving in!  God, Larabee!  Help me!