Nathan reached out and grabbed the sharpshooter’s arm before he opened the door. “Do you smell that?”
“Smells like something dead,” Tanner observed flatly. He noticed the strong odor as soon as they came abreast of the house. Thoughts of finding Chris Larabee’s dead body crossed his mind but he didn’t give voice to those thoughts.
“Surely you don’t think it’s Mr... think it’s Chris?” Standish stumbled over his words.
“Chris ain’t dead, Ez. If he was I’d know it,” the sharpshooter assured the gambler. He opened the door and the odor became cloying in the sickening heat of the interior. Vin pulled a bandana from around his neck and held it over his mouth and nose. They entered the house, their eyes raking over the damaged furniture, the torn clothing, broken dishes and rotted food.
Nathan moved to the center of the room and knelt beside a brown stain. “Blood,” he mumbled as he watched the sharpshooter walk towards one of the doors, Standish headed for the second one.
The gambler’s stomach churned at the grizzly sight revealed by the open door. He gagged and turned away, tears in his eyes as he looked at the healer. “Mr. Jackson, I believe I have discovered the reason for the...” he didn’t have to finish as Jackson stood beside him.
Nathan was transported back to his days as a stretcher bearer. The sight before him made his heart lurch and his stomach churn. Four bloodstained bodies lay in a crumpled heap in the center of the room. The stench assaulted their nostrils and caused nausea to build inside them. Nathan held the bandana over his mouth and nose and forced himself to walk into the room. He felt dizzy, yet he knew he had to make sure. “They’ve been dead at least a couple of days,” he informed his friends. “Looks like someone just kept firing at them,” he said as he noted the multiple bullet wounds in the bodies.
“Nathan?” Tanner said softly.
“What?”
“We can come back ta bury them. We really need ta find Chris.”
“I agree wholeheartedly, Mr. Tanner,” Standish’s voice was muffled through the silk bandana he held over his face.
“Nathan, Vin, Ezra, where... Oh, God,” Dunne cried, rushing from the room as bile filled his mouth.
“JD!” Buck exclaimed as the young Bostonian rushed past him. He didn’t need an explanation once he looked into the room. His own stomach kicked at him and he fought down the nausea. “Oh, Hell,” he swore. “Is Ch...?”
“He’s not here,” Tanner assured him. He took one last look at the family, said a silent prayer and turned to his friends. He knew in his heart they deserved a proper burial, but it would have to wait until they tended the living and he was sure Chris Larabee was still among them. “Let’s see if’n we can pick up the trail. It looks like Maguire was stayin’ here so Chris can’t be far.” He hurried from the room and out in the yard. His eyes fell on the youngest member of the group. The kid was splashing water from a hand pump, swiping his hands across his too pale face. “Are ya alright, JD?”
“F...fine, Vin.”
“We’re gonna go find, Chris. Ya ok ta ride.” He smiled as the kid nodded once. Vin searched the ground until he found the tracks leading out of the yard.
Chris followed his tormentor as the man slowly circled him. He felt a hand on his back and cringed as the man slowly raked his nails down the lash marks. His shoulders slumped as a hand came down full force on the open wounds.
“You see, Chris, all it takes is for me to use my hands, my bare fists and sooner or later as the bones,” he walked around to the front and drew back his fist, driving it into Larabee’s already battered ribs. “Break,” he finished as he heard the barely audible crack. He pulled back the opposite fist and did the same to the left side. This time eliciting a small cry from the injured man.
“B...bastard,” the blond hissed through clenched teeth.
“Sh, Chris, that’s not what I want to hear.” Maguire circled again and threw a punch to his captive’s lower back, over and over he struck, grinning as the cries of pain grew louder. Mottled blues, purples and blacks soon covered the gunslingers back from hip to hip. “Are you still with me, Chris?”
“G...go...t...’ell,” Larabee gasped, pain lending strength to his words.
Maguire moved to stand in front of the injured man once more. Using his open hands he slapped the pale cheeks, gaining momentum as Larabee glared at him through pain filled eyes. “You will scream for me, Chris.”
“N...no...n...never...h...pen,” Larabee swore as his head lolled forward on his chest. His eyes were quickly losing focus as the mild dose of the nightshade drug began to take hold. Demons danced before his eyes, bloody corpses dressed in confederate soldier’s uniform cursed him from beyond the grave. His stomach lurched, but there was nothing in it for him to lose.
Maguire grinned as dry heaves plagued his victim, causing him to cry out in distress. “We’re close, Chris, real close. I can feel your strength leaving you. Pretty soon you won’t care what I do as long as the pain and torment ends.”
“N...n...no...” his weak voice lacked the confidence it once held as Maguire’s fist connected with the right side of his chest. Fresh blood welled up from the long gash the insane man inflicted two days before. “V...V...Vin,” he hissed as the battering assault continued. “B...B...Buck...will come...”
“They’ll come, Chris, but when they do they’ll find an empty shell. Your soul will be mine. They'll be left with your empty carcass.” He stopped long enough to take a drink before moving to stand in front of his victim once more. His hand formed a fist and he pulled it back.
Chris knew the end was near, there was little doubt he was going to die. This man proved he was a master at pain and it was only a matter of time until his body could take no more. “S...sorry, Boys, c...can’t w...wait much l...longer. N...need help,” he mumbled as blood spilled from his split lip.
Vin followed the tracks, his stomach churning as he realized time was of the essence. He could feel the hopelessness of his friend. The desperate plea for help, the steel strength being sapped from the lean body. He spurred Peso in an effort to move faster, unaware the others were doing the same thing.
Josiah knelt in his church, his eyes closed, his eyes raised to the heavens. “Lord, I know I haven’t done my penance for the wrongs I’ve done in this world, but I need your help now more than ever. Chris is a good man, although he’s done things he regrets. He’s been doing your work, Lord, maybe not the way you wanted it done, but he’s doing good. This town’s been cleaned up quite a bit since you saw fit to band the seven of us together. I’m praying for some of your Divine intervention in finding our friend. Don’t let that...that madman do what he did to his other victims. Give Chris Larabee the strength he needs to hang on,” he lapsed into silence as he struggled with his own wayward soul.
Tanner was the first to dismount in front of the familiar wagon. He was soon joined by four others and by silent agreement a search began. The area around the wagon was filled with fresh footprints and they had little trouble finding then opening in the rock.
“He’s here,” Tanner hissed, drawing his gun. “JD, Nathan, you stay out here in case there’s trouble.”
Nathan knew he was asking him to stay outside because of his medical knowledge. They all knew Chris would need his help once they got him away from Maguire. He simply nodded and stood to the side of the entrance.
JD wanted to protest, but when none was forthcoming from the healer he also remained silent.
“Buck, Ezra, follow me and keep an eye out.”
Nathan and JD watched as the three men silently disappeared into the absolute darkness of the cave.
Chris felt the scream building. but fought against it as he lifted his head to meet the madman’s eyes.
“You’re ready, Chris. I feel it and so do you. Stop fighting what is rightfully ours. You’ll be stronger for it and live on through me,” Maguire’s eyes were filled with a lunacy even the devil would have cringed at. He felt the strength of his destiny and still the younger man held on, waiting for a rescue that would not happen.
“N...NO! MY SOUL IS MY OWN YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Larabee screamed, a soul shattering scream, one that would echo in the hearts of the men entering the cavern. Later they would wonder how the injured man was able to curse the madman in spite of his weakened body.
“Get away from him you sick bastard,” Wilmington screamed as he entered the cavern, Tanner and Standish flanking him.
Maguire heard the words and knew he’d waited too long. He didn’t take the time to turn and face the newcomers. He knew they would kill him for what he’d done to their friend. An evil leer lit his face as his hand slid slowly into his pocket. “They can’t save you, Chris,” he vowed. “We will die together, our destiny made whole even in death.”
“NO!” Tanner lifted his mare’s leg, knowing Chris’s life depended on his accuracy with the weapon. As Maguire’s hand came up, a shot, deadly in its intensity, reverberated off the walls.
Chris watched through slitted eyes as Maguire’s mouth came open in surprise, the silver object in his hand glittering as it dropped from his grip.
“N...no...can’t...take...away...our...destiny.”
“You lose,” Larabee cried as his body sagged against the cords. He felt strong hands reach for him as nightmare visions slowly invaded his sense. He fought against the cords and the hands as Maguire’s drug once more caught up to him.
“Easy, Chris, we got ya,” Tanner explained, his soft Texas drawl cutting through the hallucinations running through the victim’s mind. He tried to be gentle as Wilmington took over holding the body. He watched Standish move in on the opposite side, ready and willing to help get the injured man down as easily as possible. He stopped as a low rumbling sounded overhead. “Buck! We gotta do this quick. Sounds like this place’s ready ta come down aroun’ us.”
“Do it, Vin! I got him,” Wilmington held on tightly as Tanner cut through the cords holding his friend to the hook. He heard the soft cries from his friend as the sharpshooter lowered the injured man’s arm over his head. “Get his feet!” he shouted as dirt and rocks began to fall around them.
“Got it!” Standish snapped as he cut through the cord around Larabee’s ankles.
Wilmington lifted the body of his friend into his arms, hugging him tight to his chest. The three men ran from the cave, oblivious of the danger climbing off the ground behind them.
His head felt like it was ready to explode and he wanted to stay where he was, but his destiny was being pulled from his reach. “C...can’t let them t...take you,” he picked up the scalpel and stumbled after the retreating figures. “He has to scream,” he muttered as blood ran from the deep gouge on his forehead.
Nathan watched as Ezra Standish ran from the opening, dust billowing up behind him.
“Get back it’s going to collapse,” Standish shouted as two more figures came running out.
Jackson knew who Buck was carrying despite his near naked attire. He swore under his breath as he hurried towards them. He turned back to the cave as a loud earth-shattering scream rent the air.
“NO! You can’t have him!” Maguire shouted as he ran for the entrance.
Five pairs of eyes watched as the entrance to the cave was obliterated by a mountain of earth sliding down the hillside. They watched as the madman was buried beneath the dirt and debris.
Nathan shook his head and tried to hide the fear he knew was evident in his healer eyes. “Vin, Ezra, get me some blankets. JD, get a fire going. Buck, just hold him still for a minute.”
“B...Buck...”
Tears shone in the eyes of the ladies man as he looked into the glazed green eyes of his friend. “Yeah, Pard, I got ya.”
“M...Maguire?” the injured man rasped, his breathing labored as air struggled to gain access to his lungs.
“He’s dead,” Wilmington assured him as he watched Standish and Tanner spread out the blankets.
“G...guess I w...wasn’t h...his d...destiny...” Larabee laughed weakly, the laughter quickly turning into harsh coughing.
“Easy, Chris,” Wilmington, a man known to his friends as someone whose heart was bigger than most, let a single tear fall from his eyes. He gently placed the battered body on the ground. “Vin, get that fuckin’ rope off his arms,” he swore in words dripping venom.
Tanner knelt beside Larabee and reached for his hunting knife. He slid it between the other man’s blood stained wrists, slicing through the cords while Wilmington held onto the arms.
Jackson forced his emotions aside, knowing Larabee’s life depended on how well he used what little medical knowledge he had. “Ezra, you and JD see if you can find me water. Lots of it. Buck, get some water boiling. Vin, talk to him. Let him know we’re here.” The healer stood up and hurried to his horse.
“Hey, Cowboy,” Tanner slid down beside his friend and lifted the blond head onto his lap. The green eyes opened as the chest rose and fell. The raspy wheezing scared the sharpshooter, he’d heard it before and knew the sounds of pneumonia when he heard it
“V...Vin, I...I knew y...you a...all w...would...come,” he dissolved into a fit of coughing again and wrapped his arms around his chest.
Vin watched his friend’s feeble efforts to lift his arm only to have them drop back down as his strength left him. “I got ya, Chris, ya jest lie still ‘ntil Nathan gets through with ya. He’s gonna make sure ya get better.” A small sound left Larabee’s lips and Vin recognized it as laughter. “What’s funny, Cowboy?”
“L...lotta work,” Larabee hissed painfully.
“Chris.”
The gunslinger forced his head to turn to the new voice. “N...Nathan.”
“I want you to drink some of this,” Jackson explained. He held a tin cup to his friend’s lips and let him take small sips. The cracked lips told Jackson the man was dangerously close to dehydration. “That’s enough for now, Chris, I want you to stay still and save your energy. I got some work to do and it’s gonna hurt some.”
“Always h...hurts, Nathan. N...not your fault,” Larabee muttered as his body went still in the sharpshooter’s arms.
“Nathan!”
Jackson felt the gunslinger’s neck and breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s still with us, Vin. I don’t know how but he’s still here.”
“Nathan, I got all the water we have boiling.”
“All right, Buck. See if there’s anything in the back of that wagon I can use for bandages.”
“Thought you brought some with you?”
Jackson looked up into the eyes of the ladies man, his own dark eyes filled with unshed moisture. “I didn’t bring enough, Buck,” he hissed sharply. He turned back to the job ahead of him, trying, but failing miserably to ignore the fact he was working on a friend. A friend whose very life depended on every ounce of knowledge he had. “Vin, hold him still while I check him out.”
“I got him, Nathan,” the sharpshooter murmured softly.
Jackson nodded and slowly ran his hands along the injured man’s neck and shoulders. As gently as possible he moved down the bruise darkened torso, stopping when his light touch elicited a low moan from the gunslinger. “Sorry, Chris,” he mumbled and continued his examination. He sat back on his heels as he finished checking for broken bones.
“Nathan?” Buck asked as he tore a clean linen towel in strips.
“He’s got some broken ribs on both sides and from the sounds of his breathing pneumonia’s close to setting in. If it gets too strong a hold on his lungs I don’t think I’ll be able to help him.” Jackson shook his head, the burden heavy on his shoulders. “He’s hurt so much I don’t know where to start. I...I...”
Tanner reached out and grabbed the healer’s hand, waiting for the dark eyes to meet his own. When they finally did he spoke softly. “Nathan, we know ye’ll do everything ya can. He's got...we got...faith in ya.”
Jackson swallowed deeply, gathered the courage he didn’t know he possessed and turned back to the man he owed his life too. He was shocked to see the pain filled, fever bright eyes gazing at him.
“T...trust you, N...Nathan,” the gunslinger hissed painfully.
“Thanks, Chris. I’m gonna clean you up and see exactly what that madman did to ya. I’m gonna give you a little laudanum to help ease some of the pain. It’s not gonna be much ‘cause you’re close to pneumonia and this stuff affects the breathing. I’m sorry, Chris,” Jackson explained, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“I’s o...okay...” Larabee groaned as Tanner lifted his head. He gratefully accepted the small dose of laudanum and tried to assure the healer he understood.
“What do you want me to do, Nathan?” Wilmington asked.
“Help me clean him up. Vin, you stay where you are. Chris, I’m sorry.”
“D...don’t, N...Nathan. D...don’t blame you.” The injured man read the hurt harbored in the soulful brown eyes of the healer.
Jackson nodded once and turned to Wilmington. “Bring over the water.”
“I found a basin in the wagon,” the ladies man explained as he hurried to get the warm water. It wasn’t long before he knelt next to the wheezing man and wet one of the clothes.
Chris felt every touch. The cold water seeping into the wounds, cleaning them, yet causing so much pain. He felt a strong hand slip into his own and held tightly to the younger man’s offering. He kept his eyes on the tracker’s face as the dirt was cleaned from the numerous wounds covering the front of his body. He cried out when Jackson touched the long gash on his chest.
“Sorry,” the healer apologized as he carefully cleaned the reddened area. ‘Infected,’ he mouthed to the worried Texan. While Buck continued to clean the wounds he proceeded to drain the bloodied pus from the wound. The heat emanating from the injured man scared Jackson beyond words, but he refused to give voice to those worries. “Buck, change the water,” he urged as he noted the crimson dirt colored water.
By the time Wilmington returned with the fresh water, Ezra and JD also found their way back. The look on the newcomers’ faces told Tanner they’d been unsuccessful in finding more water.
“I’m afraid there’s no water, Mr. Jackson,” Standish explained, watching the men clean Larabee’s wounds.
“What are those?” JD’s horrified voice asked as he pointed out the numerous tiny wounds dotting his mentor’s bruised body.
“The bastard cut him and burned him at the same time, Kid, probably used some kinda knife,” Wilmington explained, cleaning the gash on the muscled thigh.
“I need more water!” Jackson hissed in frustration. He knew it was imperative they clean the wounds of infection.
Larabee opened his eyes at the anguished cry from the healer. He lifted heavy arms and grasped the other man by the forearm. “It’s okay, N...Nathan,” he whispered as his eyes closed and he surrendered to the small amount of laudanum and his weakened body.
“What do we do, Mr. Jackson?”
Jackson continued to clean the man’s injuries, praying that something would come to mind. “I don’t know. We need to get him somewhere that I can clean him up and tend him properly.
“Nathan, what if we emptied the wagon and brought him back to that farm?” Dunne asked.
“Can we chance the trip?” Standish asked.
“Can we not chance it is a better question. We need to get him cleaned up and there’s not enough water here to do it. He also needs to rest and that’s not gonna happen out here. I think JD’s idea is the best thing we can do,” Jackson explained. “Ezra, you and JD empty the wagon. Place as many blankets on the floorboards as you can. Buck, get as much of him washed up as you can,” the healer continued to clean the upper body. Once he was finished he turned to the two men beside him. “I’m gonna need to see to his back. Buck, you help, Vin hold him on his side for me.”
“All right, Nathan,” Wilmington helped ease the injured man onto his left side. “Sweet Jesus,” he swore as he saw the criss-cross lash marks on his friend’s back and the blackened area running from hip to hip.
Tanner remained quiet as he held the gunslinger, his eyes once more taking in the cruelty Maguire managed to heap on the lean body. He silently swore to go back and make sure the man was dead and not a threat to his friend or anyone else. First he needed to be sure the gunslinger was going to make it.
Jackson used the last of the water to clean the inflamed lashes. The silence of the blond haired man worried him. Shaking his head he finished with the wounds, dumping the dirty water to the side. “That’s all I can do until we get him to the farm.”
“You did great, Nathan,” Wilmington used one hand to hold the gunslinger while the other one reached out and sent strength to the pale healer. “What do you need us to do now?”
Jackson shook himself and stood up. “We need to get him in the back of the wagon. JD, Ezra,” he called. “How’s it going?”
“Almost ready,” JD shouted.
“Bring the wagon closer as soon as it’s ready,” the former slave called.
“Consider it done,” Standish called, jumping into the seat and making the horse move towards the area where their leader lay.
Jackson looked at the four men before settling his gaze on the injured man. “We’re gonna need to get him into the back. I want him kept as level as possible. The less stress on those wounds the better. He’s already lost a lot of blood and can’t afford to lose anymore. Buck, Vin, you two take his upper body. Ezra, JD, you two got his legs. Let’s get this done as quickly as we can. On three,” the healer said as he gripped the blond head. “One, two, Three.”
Five sets of hands lifted him, ignoring the green eyes that shot open and the cry of pain that ripped from the battered man.
Chris was torn from the void as his body was lifted from the ground. The agony was too much and he was unable to stop the cry that erupted from his throat. He fought to breath through the pain as memories flooded through him. “S...stop,” he pleaded as he felt himself placed on something soft, yet firm. He gasped, the air filling his lungs causing dagger like pain in his chest. “O...oh, God!” he cried out.
“Easy, Stud, we got ya. Just another minute or two and you can rest,” Wilmington spoke reassuringly as they eased him to the blankets.
“B...Buck, c...can’t b...breath,” Larabee wheezed.
“Sit him up,” Jackson ordered sharply.
Wilmington eased him up and watched as Tanner slid in behind him and signaled for the ladies man to lean him back against him. “I got ya, Chris,” he told the trusting fever bright eyes.
“T...thanks,” Larabee wheezed as air filled his congested lungs once more.
“We’re gonna take ya to a house and Nathan’s gonna fix ya right up,” the sharpshooter told him.
“O...okay,” the injured man hissed as his eyes slid closed.
“Chris.”
“Hmm.”
“I want you to drink a little more water,” the healer ordered.
Larabee forced his eyes open and nodded slightly. The canteen was placed to his mouth and he drank greedily until Jackson pulled it away.
“Let’s let that settle for a minute, Chris.”
“T...thirsty.”
“I know. Now you just rest against Vin until we get you outta here. Try to sleep,” the healer told him.
“S...so tired.”
“I know you are, Cowboy,” Tanner drawled. He reached down and gently clasped the gunslinger’s hands, carefully avoiding the torn skin around the wrists. “You go ahead and sleep. We’ll watch your back.”
It wasn't just the words that hit him, it was the force behind them. In his darkest moments, he'd known they'd find him. That faith...that was the real weapon. He felt the strong arms of his best friend and let his body go. Larabee’s head bobbed once and Tanner watched the eyes slide closed once more. He used his other hand and flicked back the stray strands of blond hair.
Jackson placed a blanket over the blond and covered him to his shoulders. “Keep him leaning against you, Vin. Make sure he’s able to breathe.”
“I will, Nate.”
“Buck, I’m gonna drive the wagon. I want you, Ezra and JD to head back to the farm and move the bodies out of the house. We won’t use the room they were kept in, but we’re gonna be in that house for a while and I don’t think it’s healthy for any of us if we keep them there. Put them in the barn for now. We’ll give them a proper burial tomorrow morning.”
“Alright, Nathan,” Wilmington agreed, knowing the healer needed to stay near Larabee in case something happened. He looked at the tracker, not a trace of hurt in his eyes as he spoke. “Keep him with us, Vin.”
“I will,” Tanner vowed.
“Ez, JD, let’s ride,” the ladies man ordered.
The sharpshooter and the healer watched as the three men galloped away. A silent, solemn oath passed between them as they separated. Their number would not decrease as long as they kept faith that Larabee would live through the painful journey ahead of him.
Jackson climbed into the front seat and picked up the reins. He turned to the two men in the back, his eyes meeting those of the tracker. The worry and fear he felt at the thought of losing this man shone on his face. A slight nod from the tracker eased his mind somewhat and he spoke softly. “Let me know if you need me.”
Tanner nodded again before turning his attention back to the man whose life depended on the dark skinned healer. He didn’t envy the former slave the job, but he had faith the man would be able to pull Larabee through. There were no degrees or diplomas adorning the dark skinned man’s walls in the clinic, yet no one doubted that a healer lived between the four walls. A gasping cough pulled him from his thoughts and he held the injured man tighter.
Larabee’s eyes shot open with the first cough. Pain seemed to be in every pore of his body as the second one ripped through his lungs. He tried to lift his arms, but they were held in a grip of steel.
“I got ya, Chris,” Tanner assured him. “Ya jest rest easy.” He saw the fear and pain on the bruised face as he fought to breathe. “Nathan, I need ya.”
Jackson was already standing at the back of the wagon. The first wheezing cough alerting him to the fact his patient was in distress. “Ease him up more,” he ordered as he climbed into the back of the wagon. He ignored the fresh blood oozing from the wound on Larabee’s chest, knowing he had to deal with the gunman’s lack of air first. “Chris, Vin’s got you. I want you to look at me and concentrate on breathing. Nothing else. Just look at me.”
Tanner held his friend, letting the lean body sag against his own as the tired man tried to catch his breath. “Come on, Cowboy, ya ain’t gonna let somethin’ like this beat ya.”
“C...can’t b...breath...” the painful words were forced through swollen lips.
“Sure ya can,” Tanner soothed. “Jest think about that nice soft bed we’re gonna put ya in soon’s we get to that house. Nathan’ll probably make ya somethin’ to ease the pain and coughing.”
“H...horse p...p...piss?” Larabee’s breath came easier as he gazed into the wondrous blue eyes above him.
“Probably,” Tanner answered with a small reassuring grin.
“Chris.” Jackson waited for Larabee’s eyes to focus on his. “I want you to drink some more water.”
Larabee accepted the canteen and drank greedily until the healer pulled it away. “T...thanks, Nathan.”
“You’re welcome,” the healer told him, relieved to see the chest rising and falling without the harsh sounds it made earlier. “You go on back to sleep now.”
“C...can’t sleep,” Larabee told him.
“Why, Chris?” the sharpshooter asked.
“If I s...sleep...might not...wake up. Be b...back in t...the c...cave... d...don’t know if I c...could t...take a...anymore. So t...tired, Vin.”
“You’re a strong man, Chris...” Jackson began, watching a look of fear on Vin Tanner's face.
“N...not strong, Nathan...Maguire m...made sure of t...that,” he hissed as his tortured body came to life in another agonizing wave of defeat.
"Bullshit!" Tanner's voice caught in his throat, "Yer strength is right here," he rested his hand over the injured man's heart. "That bastard never touched ya, I feel yer strength, Chris..."
Larabee felt tears well up in his eyes as the sharpshooter held him tightly. He knew as long as his friends were there he had a chance of triumphing over Maguire’s evil. Tanner’s hand on his chest was a calming influence and the injured man slowly relaxed in his grip. His labored breathing the only sound, but it was the only sound the two men wanted to hear.
“You got him, Vin?”
Tanner nodded and settled back against the side of the wagon, holding tightly to the battered body lying against him. He could feel heat and knew how dangerous this would be to a man in Chris’s condition. “He’s got a fever.”
“I know. That’s another reason we need the water,” Jackson told him and moved to the front of the wagon once more.
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