Sticks and stones.....(may break my bones but words will never hurt me...?)
Birthday fic for Stormm.
Prologue: coulda , woulda, shoulda….
Wet and defeated, Vin sat awkwardly on a tired horse. He hunched into the damp weight of his coat and tried to ignore the wet hair trickling down his neck. His head and face hurt and he’d rather be anywhere than where he was. He cursed the heavy rain for washing out the tracks. If only he’d pulled himself together and come out to check on Chris earlier. Now he had no hope of telling where he’d gone. And he wondered if Chris was ever going to come back, if he’d have the chance to say he was sorry. That he wished his words back with all his heart. It wasn’t as if he and Chris hadn’t had an angry word or two before. But this had been different and Vin hated to see the effect his cruel words had on the gunslinger, when he was still feeling so low.
It was Vin’s turn to feel low as he remembered the hard shove and angry words from Buck as he showed how *he* felt about it. Saying such things to Chris and then not doing anything about it until it was maybe too late. But they both knew if they’d gone to see Chris he wouldn’t have listened, just aimed his gun at them. And so they blamed themselves for Chris’ disappearance and that left the other peacekeepers wondering what on earth was going on.
Vin thought back- things had been going fine in the week or more since they’d rescued Chris from the prison in Jericho ….or so he remembered….
0o0o0o0
Rescuing Chris…..and after
Sure they had all felt guilty that they had waited to look for him, long past the original three days Chris had said he’d be away. Mary prodded them into action after ten days and again four days later. She pushed even though the other six thought that Chris could handle himself. Buck didn’t think there was any need to particularly worry; he was trying to cut his old friend a little slack after the great upset with Fowler.
They should have all known better that in the constantly changing pattern and swirl of good and bad people in ever expanding towns that something bad was bound to happen sooner or later- even to Chris Larabee.
They had all been horrified at what had happened to their leader in the prison and the condition that they found him in, hardly recognising the lean bearded figure in the shoddy, mud splattered prison uniform.
It made Ezra glad he’d managed to escape such barbaric conditions by the skin of his teeth, silver tongue and silver dollars. Mentally he promised himself not to do anything that might put him behind bars and a sentence.
Nathan, although shocked at Chris’ state, was no longer surprised at the cruelty man could inflict on his fellow man, whatever the colour of his skin. Many an innocent had been wrongfully accused on the words of another vengeful man.
Josiah could only wonder at the thought of getting money from ordinary hard working decent folk, could make the Sheriff and Warden do for want of more of it. Men in law abiding positions should not abuse it so.
JD had never seen anything like it. He guessed prison would be hard, but not like that.
Buck had seen plenty of bad things during the war and shared many of them with Chris, but he found that he was shaking with anger as they frantically held off the guards. He ordered Nathan and Vin to look for his oldest friend.
Vin spotted him, staggering away from a grated hole and two bodies lying on the ground. Vin raced to meet him and then return to Nathan who had been shot after tangling with Quince. Vin checked the bodies only to reel back as he saw the horrified, strangled look on one, and Quince all bloody and dead from a knife wound. Vin helped Nathan and Chris to where he said the infirmary was. Chris lurched beside him, still trying to get used to the lack of irons on his feet making him do a sad little shuffle walk…
The peacekeepers rounded up the remaining guards from the burning office and locked them up for the night. They checked the bodies and put them aside until morning. They rallied round finding dry towels and food for Chris, whilst helping the prison ‘doctor’ with Nathan. Vin kept looking at Chris, the uniform, the beard and his blonde hair darker with the rain and mud combining to become not-Chris. It was very unsettling and Chris was too quiet which didn’t seem right at all.
Chris gave the guys the gist of what had gone on in the prison and confirming that Philips was a good man and they ought to think of putting him in charge. He fell into an exhausted asleep, barely able to struggle out of his cold wet things and into a dry uniform. The rest of the evening was spent cleaning up and sorting out the books and paperwork and help mind the rest of the prisoners.
Early the next morning Chris managed a brief wash of sorts. As badly as he wanted a real long soak in a tub- he wanted to get out of the prison as fast as he could, and he didn’t want to get the stitches, such as they were, wet again. He was pleased to find his own clothes put out for him as he dried off. They felt slightly odd, grubby but good .Now he was ready to ride away from the hell hole that had been his life for the past few weeks. “Boys, let’s get the hell out of here!” He was glad to be going even if the riding and bright sunshine made his head pound and his bruised body ache.
Nathan felt bad because he wasn’t able to check Chris out as thoroughly as he’d have liked when they first found him in the prison and not for a day or so after that. It was just one of those things that he himself was wounded. Nathan didn’t doubt Buck or Vin’s treatment of Chris on the trail and back to their town. It was just that he liked to see and judge for himself- he was after all a healer and had patched plenty of their wounds.
He knew what to look for and worried that no matter how good the intent of the prison doctor, the conditions were bound to be rough and dirty. Not every one was as scrupulous as he liked to be about washing his hands and using clean thread and bandages.
Chris had seemed to be fine, healing well -as far as he could tell. Chris didn’t say much, but then he didn’t expect him to. Vin had been at his side most of the time since he’d been ill when they got back to town, keeping him cool, giving him water. Nathan sighed, massaging his own aching wound. Things had to be pretty bad and desperate before these men would admit something was wrong. Being a man with a reputation was all well and good but not if you were almost dying for want of some pain relief or just plain doctoring.
Life in town when they returned was quiet, which was good as they all needed a respite from this latest adventure. Nathan slowly healed and they all tried to stop Chris from over exerting himself- trying to be normal, trying to get on with life, like his incarceration never happened.
‘Doc’ Simmons had mentioned to the other six that Chris had been put in the ‘hole’ once or twice. Vin had seen it in the dark, they’d all seen it come sunup. They didn’t dare ask and Chris Larabee wasn’t going to tell.
Hiding from himself and the others, Chris retreated back into a quiet desperate shell that even Vin couldn’t crack.
Back home in town again Chris had little energy left, he was pretty starved by the time they had rescued him. Forcing him to eat at every opportunity, whilst trying to recover from his wounds didn’t seem to be working. He just couldn’t keep enough down. It just made him mean and desperate to flee, but knowing that doing so would only make his six friends over anxious again. They wouldn’t let him alone; afraid he might disappear on them.
Chris was fed up, but not because he had been rescued. No man should be annoyed at friends who come looking for you, watching your back, even if it was a week or so late. He had tried so hard to escape the moment he arrived in the prison only to be brought down by a vicious blow to the back, falling off the horse into the dirt. He had tried to get word out, but that was before he realised something fishy was going on with the Warden as well as the so called Sheriff. His men had come looking after all and found him. For that he was grateful. Six months or more ago he’d have welcomed death in any form, as long as he could fight, shout and cuss first. But things had begun to change since he and six others had formed a loose partnership defending the town.
No, it was the aftermath. And he was sick and tired…of being sick and tired. And his heart and mood was as black as the clothing he continued to wear years after he’d lost his family. He’d figured Nathan’s wound needed more care and attention on the return home than his did. He managed to fend the others off for a while, but it had been obvious to the others on the ride home that Chris wasn’t up to snuff. It all began to catch up with him. He dozed off and just about fell off his horse. At least that’s what he told himself.
0o0o0o0o
Previously---The ride home from Jericho …
Chris woke up with a start, head aching and his heart pounding, unsure where he was. He rolled over and out put a hand to push himself up; a figure appeared out of the dark. He scrabbled for his knife but couldn’t find it, his mind returning to the Warden taunting him and the life in the Sheriff’s eyes dulling as Chris had stabbed him. Chris’ mind still reeled from the memory of the snake landing in the hole, the rattle and his body’s reactive jerk away from the reptile.
“Whoa, it’s me Chris,” said Vin.
“Where..? What are we doing? “
“Resting up for a spell. You’re done in.”
“’m fine. Want to get home.”
“Leave it til mornin’, it’s late now.”
“No! Let’s go.”
“Nathan needs the rest too," Vin wasn’t playing dirty, just telling the truth and it worked.
“Oh.” and Chris got up anyway. Vin stood there ready to anchor his wavering friend as his world tilted and spun.
“You need food and rest, cowboy.” Vin said as Chris grabbed at his shirt and Vin held onto a too thin arm briefly before Chris took off again.
“Not hungry.” The way he felt he didn’t think he’d ever be hungry again.
“Hey stud, good to see you up. How you doing?” Buck called softly from the other side of the fire. The others were on watch, asleep or checking on Nathan.
“Fine.” Behind him Vin rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Where you off to in such a darned hurry?”
“Well, you forced all that water on me on the ride out so….” Chris gestured towards some rocks and bushes.
“Ah…”
Truth was Chris didn’t need to go that bad, he felt hot and sweaty and unsure of himself. It was quiet, too quiet after the noise of the prison camp, the shovels against the earth and picks breaking stones and the guards beating on some prisoner. Some space and cooler air might help, he thought as he wandered off a few yards. He dutifully watered a bush anyway, and even that hurt. God damn Warden and his friends were too ready with those heavy batons. His back ached like mad. He stood staring out at the night sky spread in all her finery.
Chris was annoyed with himself for getting caught so easily by the crooked sheriff. Should never have turned his back on him in the bar. He had been used to hard work, he had, after all, built the small house and corral with Sarah. But the prison life- stone breaking, digging dirt and making bricks was hard on poor rations and really painful with his stitched slash wound and bruises, not to mention the shackles round his ankles and wrists.
And then there were the long days and nights in the ‘hole’.
Alone with himself in the dark. Not always good company these days and never a good idea at the best of times. One time a year or so back he’d overheard some out of towners talking about him in the saloon –
‘Why’s he so mad all the time?’’’
‘He ain’t mad.’
‘Well, he’s sure got a mean way a bein’ happy’… it was a good description he thought.
Chris didn’t like to remember his time in the hole. He’d been fit but bruised when he went in there, after getting in the Warden’s face. But after a day or so, he felt really bad and he knew it had to be more than the poor rations they grudgingly threw in. Damn, but he really missed his whiskey and a decent smoke. It made the cold and damp nights harder to bear. He got to thinking way too much. The bad dreams and shakes weren’t helping any.
After eight days in the hole, Larabee was a slighter, shakier bearded shadow of his former self. And that bastard Warden knew it. Most of the shakes had gone by then and all he wanted to do was get out alive. He should have been hungry as all hell but he wasn’t. The cook spitting in the food and then the stabbing after soon saw to that.
Chris had only been doing what he thought was right, he told Buck and the others- standing up for the innocent watch seller…
He figured he didn’t need to tell Buck and the others that he’d gone off in a mood, looking for a bit of oblivion. Cut loose for a day or three- that had been the plan. He didn’t tell them he hadn’t cared that Jericho was a real nasty spit of a town. He was all ready for something and nothing when the watch seller turned up. Chris was polite and ignored him right up until the guy tried to get him interested in maybe buying a watch for ‘someone special’. He was just going to tell the man he didn’t have a special person any more and to leave him the hell alone, when the sheriff came in with his fake paper and stupid story about the robbery in Landon. Push came to shove and the watch guy wasn’t going to last two seconds, unless he did something. So he did.
And then there was Inmate 46, unable to work because he was ill and or injured and being forced to do so anyway. He couldn’t seem to turn his back on that either. In doing so he incurred the wrath of the mean spirited warden and Chris, being Chris, shouted and pushed back.
At least Simmons was able to patch him up. He could remember the feel of every one of those crude stitches going in, the needle sliding through his torn flesh. No laudanum or carbolic and only a swig of rye to drink before hand, which he lost soon after. He remembered the sting as the ‘doc’ gleefully pressed the wad of spit and alcohol over his wound. At least when he went back to get his head seen to, he got a good drink off Simmons that time…
Chris weaved his way back to camp and the others, stopping to check on Nathan. Worrying them by the way his legs buckled and dumped him on his knees.
“Nathan going to be okay?” he asked frowning.
“Just fine with God’s providence, our friend’s own strength and potions,” grinned Josiah.
“Good…good. Wouldn’t want anyone else to die because of my mistakes.” Chris said bitterly. Behind him Buck and Vin exchanged an anxious look.
Nathan opened his eyes at the familiar voice.
“What’s..? Chris? Sum thin wrong?”
“Nope.”
“Need... look at you”. Nathan tried to sit up, but was pushed back with a grimace and was fed a drink. “Urrgh, what was that?”
“Your best potion, Nathan. Now you know how we feel!” chuckled Josiah.
“Ha, funny… gi’ some to Chris…” he murmured, his eyes sliding shut as Josiah rechecked his wound.
” I’m fine “said Chris and painfully pushed himself upright and tottered back to his own bed roll and sat on the ground leaning against his saddle. Vin twitched the blanket over him and passed him a cup. Chris peered and sniffed it first.
“It’s just water, Larabee. Food?”
Chris shook his head numbly.
“Bet the food weren’t that great. You should eat.” Vin urged.
Buck appeared at his side with a few choices. ‘Damn’, Chris thought, he was being double teamed. They must really be riled up. Chris decided he hadn’t the energy for the bread and cheese but the apple might work. He couldn’t stop the flinch as Vin’s sharp knife glinted in the firelight as he cut it in two, checking it was okay inside.
They moved away, busying themselves with the fire or bedroll, but Chris knew they were watching him - afraid he’d disappear if they didn’t see that he was physically there. They watched as Chris’ chewing slowed and he drifted into sleep, his eyes closing then opening and finally losing the struggle altogether. His other hand still clutching the uneaten half of the apple. Vin gently removed it.
Time passed, but Chris didn’t sleep for long, jerking upright at the sound of low voices across the camp and Josiah digging into Nathan’s pack. “Huh?” blinking he did a quick visual sweep that all was as it should be, trusting the others to watch his back because he was just too damned tired. His stomach roiled uneasily and his side throbbed. Despite that his eyes slid shut again.
Some time later he woke up, thirsty. Blinking his eyes open once more, Vin was sitting next to him looking worried. Chris wondered if he’d said or done something while asleep. He took a gulp of water and re-capped the canteen.
“Why don’t cha lie down Chris? Be more comfortable, get more rest”
Chris just looked at Vin like he was mad. Rest? He’d forgotten what that was any more.
“Got used to sittin’ upright,” he said before he could stop himself… but he did slide over and lie down with a barely suppressed groan and involuntarily grabbed at his side. His sore head didn’t take kindly to the change in position and he took a few deep breaths to push the sick feeling back.
“Ya hurt?”
“Warden took to beating me. It’s nothing, just let me be.” Chris mumbled, irritated at himself at the same time. Vin was only trying to help. And he hadn’t lied exactly, just not told him everything. Vin didn’t know that he’d spent far too many nights sitting upright in the hole. That thought made him shiver. What would they think of him when they found out he’d sliced his own belly to evade the Lawless brothers like some coward? That in the madness of the hole the first time he’d thought about Vin’s $500 bounty that would free him but kill his friend…mad thoughts... didn’t mean them…
“Okay “said Vin, but Chris could tell he didn’t think so, because he added another blanket, donated by Buck.
“We got your back pard” Vin reassured him, hoping that this would let Chris sleep properly, not the restless shifting about he was doing.
“Thanks.” another breath or two and Chris slept.
Once again it didn’t last long, Vin didn’t like the way he seemed to be hurting and sweating. Suddenly Chris came to and hurriedly crawled off the bedroll, not getting very far before he threw up the water and half apple he’d consumed earlier. Exhausted from the dry heaves and everything that he’d been through, he rolled over onto his aching back trying to pull himself together.
He sensed someone coming and cracked open one eye, squinting against the firelight. Vin with the canteen of water. He struggled onto one elbow, took the canteen and swilled his mouth, then spat it out. Gingerly he drank some more water and accepted a hand and a tug upright. Vin scuffed dirt over the mess Chris had made. No comments, no jokes, just got on with things. Chris liked that about him. No-one else seemed to notice; even Buck wasn’t getting into his face.
He wanted the night to be over. He wanted to be back in town, where he knew how things were. Or even better at his cabin, but he figured they wouldn’t let him go there just yet. He just wanted things normal again. He wanted a shave and a long hot bath and an even longer drink. He’d just have to wait for those things. He didn’t feel good at all. And each time he closed his eyes he could see and hear the warden yelling and shouting at him. Chris could remember the thud of his baton against his legs and back. His head throbbed nastily from the hit he’d taken the other day from the Warden. It hadn’t been easy trying to rest in the hole and when he wasn’t in the hole he had to be wary of other prisoners trying to steal his boots or chunks of bread that he’d hoarded. That kept him awake a lot of the time too.
He desperately needed rest but it wouldn’t come. He was exhausted and strung out and couldn’t sleep. He began to wonder if he was imagining the whole thing. A tiny voice laughed and sneered at him ‘you’re still in Jericho , you fool!’ That was another reason for waking up…just to check.
Daybreak finally arrived and Chris managed some food but wasn’t trying very hard. He ignored the pointed looks that Buck and Vin gave him. He was glad of the water though. He felt the others eyes on his back as he awkwardly strained to get on Pony, lacking his usual fluid grace.
“Let’s go home,” he ordered, aware that Buck and Vin were slightly behind on either side of him. *We got your back, pard*. Josiah followed JD with Nathan and Ezra and then himself and his personal guard at the rear. Chris let JD lead the way; it stopped the young sheriff from asking him questions and trying to tell him the three legged dog joke in a desperate attempt to cheer him up. He’d heard it before and it had been funny when Adam said it….
As their town drew closer, he grew more anxious to see it, to see if it was the same. It had to be, he hadn’t been gone that long- it just felt like forever. They’d made another stop or two for Nathan and each time Chris felt his heart race and sweat pool, though he tried to hide it.
By the time they rode down the main street to Nathan’s rooms above the livery, he was barely conscious and gripping his reins and saddle horn so tight, Vin had to prise his fingers off one by one. After that everything was a jumble. A see-sawing world as he slid off Pony, raised concerned voices swooped in and out of his hearing. A swirling, nauseous sensation and then he was falling into a deep pit. Chris knew this pit and opened his arms wide.
0o0o0o0o0
He said he was fine!
Chris’ collapse took them by surprise. Josiah and Buck had taken Nathan upstairs. JD and Ezra had rushed off for water and to order food for everybody. Vin had been keeping an eye on Chris. It was as if once he knew Nathan was upstairs it was okay to let go. And dammit the man kept saying he was fine. Sure he’d looked a bit battered and bruised and scrawny under all that beard, but Vin wasn’t prepared for the heat he felt when he grabbed Chris as he slid off his horse. He yelled for Buck, Vin needed help getting him up the stairs.
Josiah was getting Nathan settled and preparing some fever tea by the time Buck and Vin came in with Chris. They placed him on the second cot. Taking a moment to catch their breath, they then began to check what was wrong with Chris.
“Lord, look at that! Why didn’t the fool say something?” recoiled Buck as they pulled open Chris’ shirt and then removed it. Simmons’ doctoring needed repairing and then they saw the bruises on his torso and back and legs. As Buck washed Chris’ face hoping to reduce the fever he felt a raised bump on his forehead and parting his friend’s blonde hair, he found a reddened laceration and bruising.
“Dammit stud, what else are we gonna find?!” growled Buck.
“Well, I ain’t undressing him!”
”He’d do it for you!”
“Yeah, but this is now and you’ve known him longer, Bucklin’”
But they weren’t really arguing, their banter diverting the concern they felt for Chris, as they removed his gun belt, socks and jeans.
“There ain’t hardly a place he ain’t been hit, Buck,” cursed Vin as more bruising was revealed on the too thin body. None of them had thought about the shackles on his ankles or heavy cuffs on his wrists. Chris must have been in pain from the rubbing and had said nothing
Nathan was feverish so they couldn’t really ask him what to do. But all of them had experience with cuts and bruises and other injuries so they didn’t moan about what to do they just got on with finding a solution.
They fed Chris water with some laudanum so he didn’t fight them too much and set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds.
Nasty as it was, they cut the thick stitches and purged the wound of infection, dosing it well and bandaging it tight. They figured to let it drain open for a while until Nathan could hopefully re-stitch it. Buck and Josiah’s brawn held Chris down in case he came to while Vin’s steady hands did the work. The slash had begun to heal at the thinner ends, but the rest had become inflamed, rubbing against the harsh prison shirt and all.
Buck washed the head wound and put some of Nathan’s salve on it then bandaged it while Vin fed Chris some more healing tea. Between them they gently moved Chris so they could place warm bags along the worst of the bruises on his lower back. They salved and wrapped his chafed ankles in bandages.
Vin looked up as they rolled Chris against extra pillows, to see Josiah watching them.
“He’s gonna be fine,” Vin drawled with a tight smile.
Josiah nodded but Buck added “Well, you know Chris- his version of “fine” is a little bit flexible but he always pulls through. Hang in there stud. We gotcha home rest up and don’t worry about a thing.”
Vin looked at Buck, he was just as worried, though his words said otherwise.
They took turns staying with the injured men, allowing the others to get some much needed rest.
By mid morning the next day Vin hurriedly returned to see how things were in the healers room. Nathan was sitting up not as feverish and happy to have company.
“How’s things?”
“Better thanks, Vin. Chris needs a bit more time though.” Nathan replied, wiggling his fingers and trying to move his arm a little.
“Reckon so,” agreed Vin as he sat next to Chris, his hand already reaching for the cloth in the bowl to help reduce Chris’s fever. “Easy now,“ he soothed as Chris mumbled and shifted restlessly, fighting demons in his sleep.
“How bad is he? Damn I wish I could see!” Nathan said angrily.
“I heard all about you tryin’ to get outta bed earlier!” Vin quipped as he stood up and fetched more tea for Nathan and tried to get more down Chris.
“He’s had a hell of a time in that prison. When I got to him he’d killed the Sheriff and the Warden. You shoulda seen that hole! Musta been hard in there, thinkin’ about how someone else’s words says you’re guilty and there ain’t a thing you can do about it. I’ve been there- it ain’t pretty. Just waiting to see if you’re goin’ to live or die without provin’ it! That doctor said Chris bucked the system hard the moment he got in there.”
“I know what’s it’s like not to have freedom, Vin,” said Nathan softly.
“Sorry, Nate I didn’t think…” said Vin aware of Nathan’s life in slavery.
“It’s okay …”
“No, it ain’t. But it will be, just as soon as you two get better and get off your lazy backsides!”
“Humph, all in good time,” Nathan yawned.
Gradually Chris stilled and relaxed. When Vin checked Chris’s side there was only a little blood and muck this time. Buck came in as he was fetching clean bandages and Nathan’s wash that he liked to clean wounds with.
“Need a hand wrestling with the grizzly?”
“I’m guessin’ you’ve done this before.”
“A time or two,” Buck admitted as he pulled the blanket down, revealing Chris’s torso. Chris drew in a sharp breath as they gently lifted him forward to unwrap the old bandages and replace the pad over the wound.
“Chris?”
“Inmate 78!” Chris said, his eyes half open and fever bright.
“That who did this to you?”
“I did!” he panted with effort.
Vin paused in the middle of cleaning the wound to look at Buck and then back at Chris. Buck shrugged. As they wrapped the pad in place Chris grew more combative, struggling.
“No, get away!”
“It’s alright pard, you’re safe.” Buck assured him.
“Lawless. Somethin’ goin’ on. All wrong. Look out…rattler!”
“Just rest Chris.” said Vin
“Inmate….” Chris muttered.
“No, Chris. Not any more, trust me,” Vin pleaded as he wiped Chris’s face with a wet cloth.
0o0o0o
Later that night Chris’s fever broke and without fuss they changed the bedding, and washed him down. Before settling him, Nathan was allowed up briefly to check Chris’s wound, it was better. Nathan was impressed with the care Chris had received from the others. They did listen to him after all! Tomorrow in good light he vowed he’d put a few new stitches in. As ever they fed Chris more broth and tea and left him to rest. Vin took the opportunity to finally rid his friend of the beard, shaving him carefully. Chris looked like Chris once more and Vin felt better knowing that. Things were returning to normal.
The next morning found Chris waking up, wondering who’d filled his mouth with the bottom of Mrs Tomlinson’s birdcage and, how soon he could get to the privy.
He squinted up at the ceiling and then across to see if he had company.
“We home?” Chris croaked, recognising Nathan’s room.
“Yup. Thought you wasn’t ever gonna wake up today.” said Vin noting from the slight movement and change in breathing that he was awake at last.
“Guess I needed it.” Chris rasped.
“Here, drink this,” offered Vin, a cup of water in his hand.
“No more! I gotta…” Chris flipped the cover back, determined not to think about water or else he’d burst. “Where’s my clothes!” he gasped as his side throbbed and he felt light headed from sitting up too fast.
“Hey! Not so quick! Have this. “ Vin said picking up a glass receptacle, ignoring the question deliberately as Chris covered himself again and lay back down for a second- his whole body aching. Maybe standing up wasn’t such a good idea just yet.
“Not gonna be big enough,” Chris gasped with a slight grin eyeing the shaped glass bottle.
Vin snorted “Awake two seconds an’ you’re already pushing it! Nathan says to use it. Neither of us are up to toting your sorry ass up and down them stairs to the privy.”
“Where is he anyway?”
“Getting a bit of fresh air.”
“Trying to say something about me Vin?”
“Nope. You want this or not?”
“Yes, dammit!”
He took the bottle and waited for Vin to leave for a few moments of privacy. Much as he liked Vin, he was glad it was Nathan who reappeared to retrieve the bottle and hold it up to the light with his free hand.
“I’s checking, cause of the bruising to your back, worried about your kidneys. Water’s still a bit pink.”
“I could have told you that, Nathan! I know when I’m pissing blood…” retorted Chris, slightly embarrassed at the personal tasks the others must have had to do while he was ill.
Nathan set the flask aside for the moment and washed his hands, his right arm still painful and stiff. He sat on the chair next to Chris with a little groan.
“Can I have my clothes back now?”
“Chris- you just woke up! Let me look you over and we’ll make a deal. How’s the headache?” Nathan asked tiredly.
“What headache? “ Chris said as Nathan undid the bandage and peered at the knot on his head.
Nathan sighed. “The one you’ll probably have on and off for another day or so. That’s some hit you took there.”
“Warden’s baton.”
“Ouch. Mind if I check your other injuries?”
Chris shook his head and lay back down gladly – although he wouldn’t let Nathan know that -and pulled the blanket free.
“How do you feel?”
“Just great Nathan…”
“Don’t sass back at me. Now, you hungry?”
Chris shook his aching head, the mere thought of food made his gut spasm.
“Hmm, you should eat, you’re down to the bone- ain’t right. Maybe you ate something bad…”
Chris snorted “Yeah, reckon that’s it alright…”
Nathan unwrapped the cloth round the knife wound, sniffed and looked carefully at it. It wasn’t leaking pus no more and the ends had healed up fine. He reckoned he could get away with only a few stitches for the middle part.
He carefully stood up, went to the door and spoke to Vin, still waiting on the landing outside.
“Need an extra hand, if you’re free.”
“Sure everything alright?” Vin said coming inside, following Nathan to the back to wash his hands.
“I’m fine. What are you eating?” asked Chris as Vin sucked noisily and moved something from one side of his mouth to the other.
“Just some candy…” Vin replied as he sat next to Chris, placing items on a small table directed by Nathan.
“Okay, just a few stitches here. This is gonna hurt a bit,” Nathan warned and set to.
Chris laughed loudly surprising them both. Couldn’t hurt as much as in Jericho that was for sure.
“What’s so funny?” Vin asked.
“Nothing.”
“I swear, I don’t know you two at all sometimes,” muttered Nathan, his arm already aching from fiddling with the first knot as Vin leant over and cut the end. Suddenly Vin choked then recovered and looked up to find both Nathan and Chris staring at him.
“Wha’?”
“Either spit it out or crunch and swallow, Vin. I ain’t in the mood to go round fishing down your throat jus’ because of your sweet tooth!” Nathan said.
Frowning, Vin crunched, only to gasp in pain. Hurriedly he spat the candy into his palm, and stuck a finger in his mouth.
“Now what?”
“Ow, felt like I busted a tooth or somethin’.” He got up and put the candy in the bin, rinsed his mouth out and washed his hands again because Nathan liked them to. He came back, one hand pressing against the side of his face.
“Can I carry on now?” asked Nathan bemused.
“Sure. Stitch away doc.”
Once that was over Nathan urged Chris to rest and although he muttered darkly saying he wanted to get up, the next time Nathan looked over- Chris was asleep. Vin got Nathan to lie down for a while too. “Me an’ the boys‘ll keep an eye out. Don’t worry.”
Chris’s body over-ruled his mind and he caught up on some badly needed healing sleep. Over the next day or so he told them what had happened- avoiding telling them exactly how long he’d been in the Warden’s hole and all.
He finally got his wish and was glad to sit out on the porch bundled up in his clothes and blankets.
He began to get annoyed at everyone asking how he was and how much he needed fattening up and how awful the whole thing was.
It was what it was.
Eating large plates of food wasn’t going to solve anything overnight. Besides he just threw most of it up later anyway. It was a waste of food and his energy. If they found out they got mad at him. If he only ate the little he wanted, they got upset. He couldn’t win. Chris was glad he was home but he was getting irritated and angry at himself and the world. He started to push people away; sooner or later someone was going to get hurt.
0o0o0o0o0
An ordinary day leads to words in anger...
It was just an ordinary day in town or looked to be that way. The stagecoach was due, Ezra knew there was a poker tournament headed this way and he was looking forward to pitting his wits against fellow cardsharps as they passed through. Once, he would have just taken off and joined the merry go round, but now he had responsibilities in the town. Besides Mr Larabee would no doubt think it frivolous, unless he had his own devious reasons for Ezra wanting to attend. One could find out all manner of information about people or places by listening carefully. Nevertheless, Ezra was glad to see Mr Larabee back in his usual place in the saloon, slightly sore and still in need of several good solid meals and in a fretful mood if Ezra had judged him right.
By late afternoon a heavy heat smothered the town. Most of the peace keepers were in the saloon after lunch. Vin had long gone probably hiding in the shade somewhere trying to forget about his toothache, Chris reckoned. For the last three days Vin had refused to let Nathan look at it, preferring no treatment to someone poking at it and hoping it would clear up on its own.
A party of riders came in, and settled in the bar, some played cards with Ezra and lost. They left the table good natured enough but Chris and Buck could feel something was up. They just didn’t know what. Until the men started to drink and argue with each other and the keepers waded in to protect the barkeep and other patrons. Chris sat up in his chair, itching, ready for a fight, a tussle, an argument- anything.
Meanwhile outside a prosperous looking gentleman came out of the bank with a small leather satchel. A rider came through town at the same time. He drew parallel and bent down and grabbed the bag. The man yelled and tried to run after the horse but only Vin was there outside on the spot. The fellow passed right under the roof he was sitting on and without thinking about it he leapt into the air.
The dust up in the saloon was being dealt with when Chris heard shouting outside; he made it to the boardwalk just in time to see Vin fly off the roof and onto the rider and his horse, knocking the rider off. They rolled on the ground and straight into the path of the incoming stagecoach. The driver hurriedly pulled the horses over and Vin and the thief landed out of the way by the skin of their teeth.
Chris, put his gun back in his holster already reeling from the fight in the bar having been punched in the stomach, seeing Vin fly off he roof and then almost get squashed by the coach made his gorge rise and he quickly ducked into an alley. He spat and wiped his mouth and looked up to see Vin staring back. Chris flushed with embarrassment suddenly and stood up quickly, wincing at the twinge in his gut. He could always blame it on his sore stomach still not recovered from the prison food.
“You okay?” Vin called.
“Fine, “he snapped. Chris stared at Vin for damage, a bit dusty but alive. Damn but that had been close. Vin didn’t seem bothered at all.
“Let’s go clean up the mess and sort everything out,” he ordered. Vin followed him over to the jail, pulling the robber with him. The dapper gent followed them, talking nineteen to the dozen in his profuse thanks.
It was some time before they had the verbal and written statements squared away and the dust settled once more. Chris was glad he could escape on patrol and do something about his tormented thoughts. He headed for the livery to saddle up and get gone, ignoring the startled looks as he swept past townsfolk with a dark scowl and flap of black duster.
With years of practice, Chris swung the saddle onto Pony’s back with a grunt and buckled up tight. He flipped the stirrups down, tugged and checked them automatically. Anything rather than think about Vin’s airborne leap onto the thief’s horse. He flinched as he remembered leaping onto the guard’s horse in the prison yard the moment he arrived. He’d almost made it too, before some brute knocked him out and off the horse.
Why did it bother him so much how Vin had stopped the robber? Would he rather he shot him? But the man had been riding away, and Tanner wouldn’t shoot a man in the back…
And then the stagecoach roaring in like that…a little like when he’d rescued Billy. But that had been different. But Vin was okay, for all his worrying about him.
Maybe that was the problem; he was beginning to care again. He got into trouble and they’d come looking for him. What if they hadn’t? Would he be dead? Nathan wouldn’t have got shot. Hell, they could all have died…and all because of him being stupid.
He should just get out while everybody was still alive and breathing and not broken and bloody under coach wheels or smouldering remains in a burnt out house….
“Want company?” deep in his thoughts Chris hadn’t heard Vin come into the livery. Annoyed, he snapped
“No.”
“Sure? “ Vin sounded hopeful. Chris didn’t do hopeful. Not today. And maybe not ever again.
“Just get out of my way.”
“You alright?”
“Of course.”
“Well, somethin’ bothered you earlier, ‘cause I saw…”
“You didn’t see nothing, keep your mouth shut and let me go!” snarled Chris, finally tying his bedroll the way he liked it onto his saddle.
“Hey, excuse me for asking! Buck said….”
Ire ignited in Chris.
“Buck should keep his opinions about me to himself!” he yelled.
“Why the hell do you think it’s about you anyways? Why the hell should I bother what’s got you in a knot?” replied Vin angrily. He was short on sleep because his tooth hurt all the time.
“Tell you what’s got me riled. You.”
“Me? What the heck did I do? I just came in to ask if’n ya wanted company on patrol!”
“Leapin’ off that roof! I saw you. Coulda got yourself killed! And the stagecoach missed you by a whisker! That’s what!”
“Never bothered you before. I was there, you guys weren’t.”
“Well maybe we shoulda been…”
“I looked out for myself for a long time before you showed up, Larabee. Leave me to do what I gotta do!”
“No.”
“Dammit you ain’t my pa, alright? Get out of my face.”
“I got rights…”
“The hell you do cowboy. “
“Shut up! Don’t want ya dead! Gotta sort out Tascosa…”
“You can’t save everybody- me included. I did fine on my own, long before I met you! So get off your damn, no good drunken high horse!”
“Hey! It’s not just you and me here, Vin. There are five other people and the town as well. I’m only thinking of you.”
“I ain’t a kid you can just order about.”
“Fine. You want to be treated like a child...”
“What? You gonna beat me; stop me from sittin’ on the roofs? Saved your sorry asses when you didn’t know it! Gonna take my bullets away too while you’re at it? You can’t stop me! Jus’ how much longer are you goin’ ta wear them black duds? Hell, you must have been some ornery, miserable kind of a pa you know that? No wonder you were off drinkin’ and horse tradin’”
As soon as he said it, Vin wished the words back. Chris’ face stilled, tightened and blanked.
“I give up. Do what the hell you like Tanner, you usually do,” and Chris turned back to Pony.
“Chris,” Vin caught his arm, but it was shrugged violently off.
“Larabee!" said Vin.” I’m sor…”
“You ain’t! You said it, you meant it. It’s over.”
“No!”
Chris whipped round, fist flying and Vin toppled from a hard punch, sending him crashing first into the wall, and then slide to the floor.
Semi conscious and bleeding Vin could only watch as Chris rode out on Pony and into the early evening haze.
Swearing silently to himself he lay back down until the world stopped spinning. Vin got up slowly brushing off bits of hay and earth, “What’re you lookin’ at?” he muttered to Peso, who then huffed and turned his back on him. Vin wiped his bloody nose and mouth with the back of his hand.
“Yeah okay, tell me something I don’t already know.” He didn’t want to go outside and get asked all sorts of questions just yet so he fed and brushed Peso. He stood there trying to work out how things got so complicated and how long it would take for Chris to forgive him or at least come to some sort of truce.
Chris might disappear again. But if he followed Chris, he would just slug him again Vin reckoned. He fingered his sore tooth and spat out blood when JD came in
“Hey Vin. Wow look at you! Peso head butt you?” Vin didn’t answer but JD seemed to take it as a yes.
“Chris gone on patrol?”
“Yeah." it was a relatively safe answer Vin thought.
“Something up?”
“Nop.e”
“Oh.”
Vin walked out and left JD talking to himself, he knew it was rude; he had a lot of time for JD but not right now. He washed his face in a trough and winced as his tooth throbbed nastily. He deserved it he told himself as he headed for the saloon.
By the time he waited for a drink, JD had come back in. When Vin sat down to eat some soup JD had already mentioned about Peso so they didn’t ask any further about his hurt face or the blood splotches on his shirt and hand –just teased him mercilessly about his horse.
Vin didn’t like lying, and he hadn’t exactly, it was just that he didn’t correct JD’s story and the longer it went on, the deeper in truth it lodged until even Vin began to think that’s what happened. He had a drink, swilling the whiskey round his mouth hoping it might help his dammed toothache; Chris hitting him like that hadn’t helped any. He needed to ponder on things but was finding it difficult with his tooth and head throbbing so.