Shadow and Storm

Part 2

Ignoring the rain dripping from the brim of his hat and falling against his slicker, Chris kept his eyes in constant motion, searching the sodden ground and the gray-shrouded distance, desperately seeking some sign, any sign, of his missing lover. And praying that, just this once, Vin hadn’t tried to wipe all trace of his passing from the earth. He called upon every trick he’d learned in watching the tracker, tried to remember every lesson the man had tried to impart, every tip he’d ever shared. And was faced with the bitter knowledge of just how little he knew.

But why should he have picked up any of it? Why did he have to know how to track when he had an Indian-trained, two-legged bloodhound at his side? That was Vin’s job, and nobody did it any better.

Well, hell, that’s what he got for taking it for granted that Vin would always be at his side.

That thought sent a spear of pain through him. He didn’t take Vin for granted, and he never would. He’d learned that lesson from Sarah’s death. He knew only too well, only too horribly, how quickly he could lose what he’d once assumed he would always have. Knew how quickly “forever” could come crashing down into ruin around him. No, he hadn’t forgotten the bitter, brutal lesson learned at his wife and son’s gravesides. He knew just how precious a thing he’d found with Vin, knew how easy it would be to lose it. He reminded himself of that every day, made sure Vin knew it, too. And he’d remind Tanner of it yet again when he found him.

Right before he beat the hell out of him.

With that plan in mind, he urged Pony toward a gentle rise in the land, hoping he’d be able to see more from the high ground. Mindful of the treacherous footing caused by rain and mud, he forced himself to keep Pony to a sensible pace, refusing to allow impatience and worry to goad him into recklessness. Wouldn’t do him any good for him to repeat Tanner’s mistake. Wouldn’t do Vin any good either.

Christ, where the hell was he?

So intent was he on guiding Pony through the dangerous mix of thick mud and rain-slick rock that he almost missed seeing the smaller clump of earth between himself and the rise. Until the “clump” moved. Startled by the unexpected movement, he reined Pony to an abrupt halt and stared, then felt hope and fear surge through him in twin waves as the mud-colored shape resolved itself into a form he knew better than his own.

“Vin!”

All earlier thoughts of caution forgotten, he spurred Pony into a run, his heart in his throat. Vin gave no sign of having heard him, but slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees–

And promptly collapsed back into the mud, limp and unmoving.

“Goddamn it, Tanner!” Chris snarled as his stomach twisted sickeningly. “What the hell have you done to yourself now?”

A few yards from Vin, he hauled Pony to a rough, hard stop and threw himself out of the saddle, running forward on suddenly weak legs and dropping to his knees at the tracker’s side. His heart clenched painfully as he beheld his fallen lover. Vin was drenched from head to toe and covered in mud, the stuff even matting his sodden hair, and hard shivers racked his lean frame. Beneath the grime, his skin was much too pale. Chris cupped shaking fingers gently against one filthy, whiskered cheek and winced at the chill in the man’s flesh.

“Vin?” he called hoarsely, sliding his thumb to the tracker’s cold, slack lips and stroking slowly. “Can you hear me, partner?” The tracker made no response and again Chris’s gut twisted. But even through his worry his natural practicality surfaced, and he carefully began examining Tanner as best he could for any serious injuries. He discovered a good-sized knot and a nasty gash in the his head just above his right ear, a number of abrasions and the beginnings of what would no doubt develop into ugly and painful bruises, but found no broken bones and no sign of heavy bleeding. Swept by a profound relief, and heedless of Vin’s wet, muddy state, Chris leaned closer and slipped his arms about the man, lifting and cradling him close against his own body. “Come on, pard,” he urged, settling Vin’s head against his shoulder and tightening his arms about him. “I came all this way for you, now you need ta come back to me.”

He settled himself more comfortably on the wet, muddy ground and continued speaking to Vin in a low, soothing voice, holding his lover close and stroking him. Gradually, his voice and touch penetrated the fog of semi-consciousness and Vin stirred slightly, giving a low, shuddering moan and turning his face into Larabee’s hand, his eyelids fluttering.

“That’s it, partner, come back,” Chris urged. “I need ta see those blue eyes. I need ta know you’re still with me.”

Vin’s eyelids flickered and then slowly parted, each revealing a slit of hazy blue. For long moments, he simply stared up dully, but gradually recognition dawned and a slow, soft sigh escaped him. “Chris.”

Larabee exhaled sharply as relief poured through him. “Yeah, I’m here,” he rasped, sliding a hand to Tanner’s throat and stroking lightly with the pad of his thumb. “Jesus, you scared me!”

“Sorry,” Vin whispered tightly, pain returning on the heels of full consciousness. His body ached all over, but the throbbing in his head quickly took prominence. “Don’t s’pose … there’s much chance ’a you shootin’ me, is there?”

Chris frowned in puzzlement at the odd question. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about it,” he admitted. “Why?”

“Be obliged if ya’d … put me outta my mis’ry,” he groaned, his breathless words slurring. “Either shoot me or cut m’ damn head off.”

“Your head?” Chris asked tersely, his concern sharpening abruptly.

Vin sighed and scowled, cracking open one eye. “Yeah, my head. Y’ know, that thing on top of m’ neck.”

It was Chris’s turn to scowl, and he did so. Deeply. “You mean that thing you should use for thinkin’ but obviously don’t?”

Vin’s sarcasm deserted him when he heard the worry and fear beneath the gunman’s anger. Bracing himself, he pulled out of Chris’s arms and struggled to sit up, then leaned forward with a groan and dropped his head onto his bent knees as the pain exploded to a new intensity. “Jesus,” he whispered sickly.

Instantly, Chris was there, circling a strong arm about the tracker’s bowed figure. “You all right?” he asked worriedly.

“Not really,” Vin muttered. “But I reckon it’s no more’n I deserve.” He lifted his head with an effort and turned it gingerly, fixing a squinting, bleary gaze on Larabee. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I never meant t’ put ya on the worry. I jist … wasn’t thinkin’.”

“I know,” Chris said softly, sadly. “But runnin’ away isn’t the answer.” He slowly stroked Vin’s back. “Next time, try runnin’ to me. That’s what I’m here for.”

Vin leaned into the shelter of the man’s body, his head again finding its way to Larabee’s shoulder. “Thought you was here fer this,” he whispered.

Chris smiled slightly. “Yeah, well, this is part of it,” he agreed quietly. “Maybe one of the parts I like best. But I could do without that chasin’ you down to do it part.”

Vin shivered and huddled more deeply into Larabee’s embrace. “I know. An’ I’m sorry. But I jist … I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t take it!” He lifted his head from Chris’s shoulder and turned anguished eyes on the man. “He looked up at me, Chris!” he rasped, shuddering as remembered horror sliced through him. “Looked right up at me. An’ smiled! Jist like he knew–”

“He didn’t know, Vin,” Chris assured him quickly, firmly. He cradled a hand to the back of Tanner’s head and gently pressed it back down against his shoulder. “And even if he did, it doesn’t mean a thing. Nobody’s ever gonna do that ta you. Not while there’s a breath left in me.”

“Don’t want you t’ die fer me–”

“Why not?” Chris asked calmly. “I live for you. Why shouldn’t I die for you, too?”

The simple words silenced Vin, struck him to the heart and wrung a soft gasp from him. Jesus, how had he ever managed to stumble into this man’s life? Into his heart?

And still one more revelation awaited him.

Chris sighed and laid a cheek against the wet, matted mop of Vin’s hair. “I’m gonna need ta get up, partner,” he said. “Gotta let the others know I’ve found you.”

Vin frowned at that. “Others?”

Chris lifted and turned his head, arching a blond brow at the tracker. “Yeah, others. You know, that strange bunch we ride with? They’re out combin’ the territory for you. Likely all waitin’ for their chance to kick your ass for makin’ ’em worry.”

Vin’s frown deepened, as did his confusion. “Lookin’ fer me? In this weather?”

“I believe that was your choosin’, not ours,” Chris reminded him pointedly.

Vin had the good grace to flinch and look away. “I didn’t mean fer y’all t’ come out in this,” he muttered.

“Maybe not,” Chris answered. “But when Peso came back without you, we didn’t have much of a choice. Hell, even Ezra was willin’ ta ride out.”

Vin looked back at him, stunned. “Ezra?”

At the true surprise in Tanner’s voice, Chris swallowed the smart-assed retort he’d been tempted to make and instead smiled softly and reached out, brushing gentle fingers down the tracker’s rain- and mud-streaked face. “Yeah, Ezra,” he said softly. “Face it, Vin, you’re not runnin’ alone anymore. So maybe it’s time you just stopped runnin’.” He smiled slightly, tenderly. “I don’t know what you thought you’d find out here, but it sure as hell couldn’t be any better than what you’ve got back there.”

“Yeah,” Vin whispered, staring fixedly at the man before him. “I think mebbe I’m startin’ t’ see that.”

Summoned by Chris’s shots, the others quickly converged on their position, all enormously relieved to find Vin safe and relatively well. Nathan immediately insisted on a cursory examination, to which Vin grudgingly agreed, and gave the tracker a tight-lipped scowl when he discovered the knot and blood-caked gash over his right ear. But he declared Vin well enough to ride, and, with Tanner and Larabee doubling on Pony, the six made their way to Chris’s cabin.

Once there, Nathan again took command, ordering JD, Buck and Josiah to remain outside. He knew from long experience that, at his best, the skittish tracker didn’t appreciate any more attention than he absolutely had to endure. But Vin hadn’t been anywhere near his best for three days now, and Jackson had no desire to add to the anxieties already troubling his friend.

While Nathan unstrapped his medical bag from his horse, Vin let Chris help him down from Pony's back and guide him into the cabin. Exhaustion and the unrelenting pain in his head had all but sapped him of his strength, and each time he moved a new set of battered muscles screamed in protest. He wanted nothing more than to go straight to bed and sleep for a week, but, to his surprise and irritation, Chris wouldn’t allow it.

“Not yet,” Larabee said firmly as the tracker shot him a weak but still fierce glare. Vin muttered something foul under his breath and tried to push past him to the beckoning bed, but Chris easily held him back. “Not in those clothes, and not with that mud all over you. I don’t have enough sheets out here for you ta be dirtyin’ ’em up.”

“Ain’t never bothered ya before,” Vin growled.

At the table, pulling the items he thought he’d need out of his bag, Nathan nearly choked at the words and tried desperately to pretend he hadn’t heard them. He’d long since suspected the true nature of Chris and Vin’s relationship and was torn between the belief ingrained in him since childhood that such things were wrong and unnatural and his desire to see his two friends happy.

And Lord knew the two dangerous, difficult men were perfectly suited to each other.

Chris noticed the healer’s startled reaction and sighed, then returned his attention to Vin, knowing the man had to be out of his head to speak so openly about things best left private. “You keep this up,” he warned in a low voice, “and Nathan’ll have even more work ta do in a few minutes.”

Vin’s defiance deserted him then, along with what little remained of his strength, and he sank almost bonelessly to the floor, somehow managing to sit before he went sprawling and folding his legs Indian-style. “I’m wore out an’ m’ head’s givin’ me hell,” he rasped as Chris dropped into a crouch before him. “I jist wanta go t’ sleep, fergit this day ever happened.”

“I know,” Chris said softly, reaching out to cup a gentle hand around the back of Vin’s neck and smiling slightly into pained and faded blue eyes. Somehow Nathan’s presence no longer mattered. “And you will get ta rest, I promise. But we need ta get you cleaned up first, see what hurts you’ve got under all that mud.” He nodded once, still smiling. “Let’s start by gettin’ you outta them wet clothes. You get any colder, you’re gonna start turnin’ blue on me.”

Vin managed a faint, tired smile and at least made an effort to pitch his voice for Larabee’s ears alone. “Could think of a couple ’a ways you could warm me up, cowboy,” he breathed, his words slurring.

Nathan dropped a tin of liniment to the floor and abruptly turned away from the two, easily able to feel a hot flush igniting in his cheeks.

Chris chuckled and shook his head at his lover’s uncharacteristic lack of discretion. Then, taking advantage of Nathan’s diverted attention, he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Tanner’s dirty temple. “Count on it,” he whispered. “Just not right now.”

Vin closed his eyes and sighed contentedly at the feel of those lips against his cool flesh. “Reckon it would be better if we waited ’til th’ others is gone,” he breathed, his words finally not carrying past Chris.

“I think they’d appreciate that,” Larabee agreed. “Now,” he pulled away reluctantly but set his hands on Vin’s shoulders, more than half-supporting the slumping tracker, “let’s start shuckin’ layers. God knows how many you’re wearin’, and I’ll bet every one of ’em’s soaked through.”

“Kinda got rained on,” Vin murmured sleepily, his eyelids drooping heavily. “Goddamn horse run off, left me out in the big middle of it. Fell on me first, though. He’d best still be runnin’ if he knows what’s good fer him.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chris sighed resignedly, beginning the solitary task of stripping Vin of his heavy, sodden jacket and whatever else he wore beneath it. “You’re gonna shoot him, skin him, jerk his meat and use his hide for rugs.” Like Peso, he’d heard the threats enough to know them all by heart. And, like Peso, he didn’t believe a word of them. “Just don’t expect me to eat any of that jerky. Damn horse’d probably give me colic.”

Vin lifted his head with an effort and gave the gunman an unfocused glare. “I reckon you think Pony’d taste better?”

Chris sighed and shook his head – a habitual response to this man – then set a hand under Tanner’s chin and lifted the drooping head until their eyes met. “You make jerky outta my horse and we’re gonna have words,” he warned. “Now, shut up, behave, and let me take care of you.”

“Ain’t sure I wantcha to,” Vin muttered even as he turned his head and nestled his cheek into Larabee’s hand. “You insultin’ m’ horse an’ all.”

Still at the table, Nathan watched the two, shaking his head as a slow, warm smile spread across his face. Didn’t matter what he’d been taught; there couldn’t possibly be one damn thing wrong with what he was seeing before him.

Chris leaned against a porch post and lit a cheroot, relaxed as he hadn’t been in three days. Vin was inside, asleep, cleaned up and sporting a truly impressive collection of bruises, but in one piece and safe. All was right again in Larabee’s world.

“You want one of us ta ride out tomorrow, bring Vin a horse?” Buck asked, leaning against the opposite post. “I’m sure Tiny’s got one he could lend him until Peso’s healed up.”

“He ain’t gon’ feel like ridin’ anywhere fo’ a couple ’a days,” Nathan put in as he exited the cabin and joined them on the porch, his bag slung over his shoulder. “Headache alone’s gon’ give him hell, an’ likely he’s gon’ be sore an’ stiff fo’ a while.” He narrowed his eyes and shook his head tightly, knowing how much worse it could have been and torn between relief that Vin had come out so well and anger that the man had been fool enough to risk himself at all. “He’s jes’ lucky ain’t nothin’ broke.”

“But he is all right?” Chris asked, eyeing the healer steadily and searching for any sign of worry in him.

Nathan snorted and waved a hand. “Oh, yeah, he’s fine! Got some pulled muscles, some real deep bruises, but not much more’n that. I left some liniment fo’ the soreness an’ some willow bark fo’ the headache.”

“What about his head?” Chris persisted, remembering only too vividly the sight of Vin lying unconscious in the mud and still fearing that the man might have done himself some true harm.

But Nathan shot him a disgusted look. “You mean what goes on inside it, or that knot he’s got on it?”

Chris’s lips twitched as Jackson’s tone gave him his answer. “I take it it’s nothin’ serious then.”

Nathan snorted again. “Man oughtta try usin’ it fo’ somethin’ more’n holdin’ up his hat,” he retorted. “I don’t know if it was Peso’s hoof that caught him or somethin’ he landed on, but he coulda split it wide open! An’ I cain’t fix that!”

“I’ll talk to him,” Chris assured him. “This is somethin’ we need ta work out anyway. Somethin’ he’s gotta make his peace with.”

Nathan let his irritation go and stepped closer to Chris, reaching out to set a big, dark hand on the gunman’s shoulder and gazing intently into his eyes. “Jes’ don’t expect him ta do it overnight,” he counseled. “This ain’t jes’ some nightmare he’s runnin’ from. This is a shadow that’s been layin’ over his soul fo’ a while now, an’ it ain’t goin’ away any time soon. You look at a noose an’ you see a rope. Vin looks at a noose an’ he sees that bounty on his head. Remember,” he tightened his grip on Larabee’s shoulder, “watchin’ a hangin’ does ta him what watchin’ a whippin’ would do ta me, or what watchin’ a house burn would do ta you. We all got them shadows, Chris,” he said quietly. “If we’re lucky, though, we’ll have somebody with us who can hold up a light an’ help us find our way through ’em.”

“He’s got that,” Chris said firmly. “The fact that you’re tellin’ me all this proves it.”

“Yeah, well,” Nathan lifted two brows and smiled faintly, “I ain’t holdin’ the light he needs.”

Chris gave a small smile and ducked his head, having no answer for that. To his relief, though, JD and Josiah came up at that moment, leading the horses, and saved him from the need to find one.

“We probably oughtta get goin’,” JD declared as he held out Beavis’s reins to Buck. “Rain’s stopped for now, but there’s another storm comin’.”

Buck gave the boy a scornful look as he took the reins. “Hell, son, who d’you think you are? Vin?”

JD exhaled sharply and rolled his eyes. “I know a thing or two about the weather, Buck,” he defended himself. “Women aren’t the only things to learn about, you know.”

“But they are the most important ones.” Buck swung easily up into his saddle and grinned down at the boy. “You’ll understand that when you grow up.”

JD shook his head, then mounted Milagro. “Tell Vin I’ll look in on Peso for him,” he said to Chris, pointedly ignoring Wilmington. “Make sure he’s doin’ all right.”

“Make sure he don’t kill nobody, you mean,” Buck muttered. “That horse is plumb loco! And you,” he leveled a forefinger at JD and glared fiercely at the boy, “if you had any sense at all, you’d stay the hell away from him. That crazy sonuvabitch could stomp you into a greasy spot in the straw an’ never even break a sweat!”

“Peso likes me–”

“Peso don’t like nobody–”

“Him and Vin–”

“Hell, one’s as crazy as the other–”

“I do so love a quiet ride in the country,” Josiah sighed as he mounted his horse. Then he looked at the bickering Buck and JD and shook his head mournfully. “Not that I’ll ever know that pleasure again.”

Chris laughed at Buck and JD’s antics and Nathan and Josiah’s martyred expressions, enjoying the sight of his men driving each other crazy. Just one more sign that all was as it should be.

Or would be, once he got Vin clear of that damn shadow.

The wind whipped against him from every direction, howling and raging like a wounded animal, tearing at his hair and clothes and stealing the air from his lungs. Battered by its force, he struggled to keep his feet, but was toppled by a fierce gust. Helpless to stop himself, unable even to use his hands to catch himself, he fell heavily to the ground, startled to feel the scratch of rough wood against his face.

He had to get up, had to get away!

But he couldn’t. His hands were useless, caught behind his back, his wrists burning. The wind held him down, pinned him in place, imprisoned him. Cold panic surged through him in raw rushing waves.

Thunder sounded all around him, as constant as the wind. Yet rather than the familiar heavy booms, it came now in waves of hard, flat cracks, like wood slamming against wood. Terrified, unable to run or even to rise, he wrenched open his eyes and stared into the black of night. With a desperate burst of strength he rolled onto his back–

And cried out in horror as the sudden flash of lightning illuminated the noose swinging wildly above him. Again and again the lightning tore open the night, revealing the gaunt frame of the gallows upon which he lay. His heart hammered painfully against his ribs and he tried frantically to free himself. But the ropes binding his wrists at his back were too tight, the fibers biting into his flesh. Another cry escaped him but the wind stole its sound, and he could do nothing but lie there in gut-twisting fear as that noose descended toward him–

“No!” he cried, jerking upright in a desperate attempt to escape. Then someone was coming toward him and he lashed out viciously, refusing to surrender easily to his fate. “No, goddamn it, no!”

“Vin!” Chris called, torn from sleep by his lover’s yell. He sat up abruptly and was momentarily stunned when a flailing fist connected with his jaw. But he regained his wits just in time to dodge another blow, then watched in shock as Tanner’s shadowy form lunged past him and crouched at the foot of the bed, a wild and wounded animal prepared to strike. Chris licked his lips slowly but made no other movement, determined not to startle the confused man any further and resisting every instinctive urge to reach out for him.

Grabbing a man of Tanner’s lethal skills while he was in the grip of a nightmare was never a good idea.

“It’s all right, Vin, it’s all right,” he said gently, praying his voice would be enough to pull out of the torment that gripped him. “You’re all right! It’s just a dream–”

“I ain’t gonna letcha hang me–”

“Nobody’s gonna hang ya, I swear!” he vowed. Irregular flashes of lightning illuminated the dark cabin weirdly, revealing the tracker’s glittering eyes and white face. Chris knew the strange shadows had to be adding to his lover’s confusion and began inching toward the small bedside table, and toward the lamp and box of lucifers on it. “Listen to me, Vin, listen to me!” he urged as he moved, forcing himself to sound calm despite his worry. “You know me, you know my voice. You’re safe, I promise. You know I’d never let anybody hurt you. You know that, Vin. Just settle down, partner. It’s all right, I promise. I’m here and everything’s all right.”

At last the familiar voice penetrated the fog of fear and confusion shrouding his mind, and the panic drained from him in a rush, taking his strength with it. A sharp, unsteady gust of breath escaped him and he collapsed against the wall, staring through the darkness at the man he could barely see but knew with an instinctive certainty. “Chris!”

“Yeah, Vin, it’s me,” Chris breathed as relief crashed through him. “I’m right here. Everything’s gonna be all right.”

“It was comin’ fer me!” Vin whispered strickenly, his heart still pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest. He drew his legs up against his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around him, still haunted by the spectre from his dreams. “I was on the gallows, an’ that goddamn noose was comin’ toward me–”

“Ssh, hush, now, hush,” Chris crooned softly. He stretched out a hand to the table, found the glass chimney of the lamp and removed it, then fumbled for the box of lucifers. “There’s no gallows and no noose,” he said quietly, steadily, finally finding the box and palming it. “There’s only me and you, and you’re safe.” He opened the box and pulled out a lucifer. “I promise, Vin.” With a quick scrape and the sharp smell of sulphur he struck the lucifer to life. “As long as I live, you’re safe.”

Vin flinched and closed his eyes tightly against the sudden flare of light, then dropped his aching head onto his knees, still gripped by the terror of the dream. “It was so real!” he rasped. “Wind knocked me down, an’ I could feel the wood of the gallows scratchin’ me. My hands was tied an’ I couldn’t move– Lord, Chris, it was so real!”

Chris lit the lamp and shook out the lucifer, then replaced the glass chimney and turned down the wick, knowing Vin’s head injury would make him sensitive to light. Then, as he beheld his partner’s misery, he almost wished he’d never lit the thing at all. He dropped the extinguished lucifer onto the table and started to move toward Vin, determined to ease his suffering.

But Vin raised his head and shook it once, squinting painfully into the light. “Don’t,” he pleaded hoarsely, painfully aware of his fragility just now and knowing the slightest touch from this man would shatter him completely. It was all much too close to the surface – the nightmare, the reality, the shadow of that goddamn noose and the storm it created in his soul. Most times he could hold it all in, hold it all together. Now, though, it was doing all it could to come out and, if he let it, he feared that both he and Chris would be swept away in the flood.

Chris understood – hated it, but understood – and contented himself for now with merely sitting beside Vin on the bed, careful not to touch him, the few inches between them yawning like a mile-wide chasm. He could feel Vin’s turmoil, could feel it all but pullling the man apart, and wanted nothing more than to help hold him together. Or hold him while he fell to pieces. Either way, it didn’t matter to him; he just wanted to hold Vin, let the man know he was safe.

But, Jesus, safety was still such a new feeling for Vin …

“Wanta talk about it?” he asked gently.

Vin didn’t; not really. Just wanted to push it back down where it belonged, forget about it. Except that he never really could. It was always there, that shadow glimpsed from the corner of his eye, mocking him. Haunting him. The legacy of Eli Joe’s hate.

“Was stormin’,” he croaked, the words coming against his will. “Wind was screamin’, lightnin’ was tearin’ up the world, looked like Hell had split itself open an’ was comin’ t’ claim me.” He swallowed hard and shook his head slowly, staring into the nightmare – the reality – only he could see. “I fell, hit the gallows.” His voice cracked and he bowed his head, closing his eyes tightly. But the images remained as vivid as ever. “I couldn’t move! My h … hands were tied. I could feel the ropes burnin’ inta me …” Never knowing he did it, he clasped each hand around each wrist, rubbing fiercely against that phantom burn. “Then I looked up, saw it–” His voice shattered and another shudder racked him, tearing a stricken gasp from him. “The noose … was comin’ fer me … I couldn’t git away … Jesus, I hate this!” he whispered tightly, bitterly ashamed of his own weakness. “I hate dreamin’ about it, thinkin’ about it, wonderin’ when it’s gonna be me instead ’a some other unlucky sonuvabitch– It’s like somethin’ eatin’ away at my soul!” He exhaled sharply and lifted a shaking hand to drag it through his tangled hair, his eyes wide and dark in his ashen face. “I ain’t ever been a coward, Chris, but I cain’t help thinkin’ that this is turnin’ me inta one!”

“You’re not a coward, Vin,” Chris assured him. “Hell, if I had that hangin’ over me, I’d be scared, too.” Vin flinched and looked away, and too late Chris realized his unfortunate choice of words. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I shouldn’ta said that.”

“’S all right,” Vin breathed, lifting his head slowly and turning back to Chris, his face pale and pinched with pain. “I know ya didn’t mean nothin’ by it.” He winced and bowed his head again as the throbbing inside it grew steadily worse.

Chris saw that and finally allowed himself to reach out, cupping a hand gently around the back of Tanner’s neck. “Why don’t you lie down? Maybe you’ll feel better.”

“No!” Vin protested sharply. “I cain’t!” A hard shudder ran through him as panic again welled inside him. “It’ll still be there, waitin’ on me–”

“You don’t have to sleep,” Chris said, still rubbing the back of Tanner’s neck. He could see the tracker’s pain and exhaustion as plainly as he could feel his fear, and all three wrung at his heart. Vin was the strongest man he knew, but the past three days had completely unraveled him, leaving every nerve exposed and raw. “Just lie down, rest your head. I can brew up some of that willow bark tea Nathan left. Maybe that’ll help.”

Vin licked his lips and stared at Chris, considering. He was tired, so tired his bones ached from it, and his head felt as if it would split open at any moment. Maybe he would feel better, just so long as he didn’t go to sleep. Might never go to sleep again. “Couldn’t hurt, I reckon,” he breathed at last.

Chris nodded and helped Vin stretch out upon the bed, then pulled the covers up over him. Leaning over his lover, he forced a smile and reached down, gently smoothing the thick, tangled hair away from his pale face. “I’ll be right back,” he said, tenderly stroking Vin’s temple with the pad of his thumb. “It’s gonna be all right, you’ll see. I’m gonna take care of you.”

Vin nodded slowly, then closed his eyes against the hurtful glare of the lamp. He felt the bed give beneath Larabee’s shifting weight as the gunman climbed over him, then, moments later, both Chris and the lamp were gone. He cracked open his eyes, grateful for the dimness that again surrounded him, then let them open more fully and turned onto his side to watch as Chris walked toward the stove. Bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the lamp and dressed only in his long, faded underpants, Larabee was about the most beautiful damn thing he’d ever seen, all lithe, lean grace and supple strength, a lion among men.

And why that lion would bother with the likes of him was something he’d never understand in a million years. Chris could have anyone he chose, man or woman, could settle down and make a real life for himself, one where he didn’t have to hide, didn’t have to lie. But, instead, Larabee had chosen him and taken on all the shit that came with him–

Had waded freely into the shadows and storms that for so long had been all that Vin Tanner had ever known of life.

What the hell had the man been thinking?

Chris heard the sigh, nearly a groan, behind him and turned away from the stove to see Vin lying on his back, one arm folded over his eyes, his other hand knotted in the covers at his side. Even from here, he could almost feel the weight oppressing his lover’s soul, and a wave of helplessness surged through him. He was no healer like Nathan, lacked Josiah’s wisdom, and just now those were what Vin needed most. He didn’t have anything–

Except his love for Vin, and an unyielding determination to pull the man out of the darkness that mired him.

He turned back to the stove and, judging that it held enough heat for what he needed, put on a pot of water to boil. The tea would do for now. First he’d try to lessen Vin’s physical pain, give the man some relief there. Then he’d see what he could do about the other. What they could do about it together.

Because from now on, that was how they were doing everything. And it was high time Vin Tanner got that through his thick Texas skull.

Vin drifted in and out while Chris prepared the tea. He hadn’t intended to sleep, didn’t want to, but couldn’t seem to help it. Between the quiet sounds Larabee made and the regular but low and distant roll of thunder, he was soothed into it against his will, his tired mind and aching body eager for the rest. But each time, just before he dropped off completely, he managed to jerk himself awake, not yet willing to risk returning to the world of his nightmares.

Or the noose that awaited him there.

Chris watched Vin’s struggle through sympathetic eyes, wishing the man would just give it up but knowing he was too stubborn to do so. Shaking his head at that stubbornness, he poured some of the tea into a tin cup and added enough sugar to ensure that Vin would actually drink it, then carried it back to the bed.

“Here you go,” he said, easing himself down onto the edge of the bed and holding out the cup.

Vin pulled his arm from his eyes and squinted up at the gunman’s outstretched hand, then sat slowly upright, wincing as the movement intensified the ache between his temples. He waited a few moments, giving his head and stomach time to settle, then reached with a slightly unsteady hand to take the cup, looking up sharply when Chris slid a hand under his to support it.

“Whatever it takes,” Chris said in a low, steady voice, “we’ll get you through this. I want you to remember that.”

Vin winced and looked away, bowing his head. “Y’ ain’t gotta–”

“The hell I don’t,” Chris countered firmly. He slipped his other hand under Tanner’s chin and lifted until the tracker’s eyes met his, then stared intently into them. “Ya gotta stop runnin’ from me, Vin,” he ordered. “There’s no point in you even tryin’, because I will always come after you. So you could save us both a lotta time and bother by just not doin’ it in the first place.”

Vin slowly licked his lips, unable to look away. In truth, he had no idea why he kept trying to run; Lord knew he had absolutely no desire to get away from this man. He’d seen too much, suffered too much, to think he could ever find anything better without Chris than he had right here with him.

Hell, maybe he was just crazy.

“Stop thinkin’ and drink the tea,” Chris urged. He slid his hand around to the back of Vin’s neck and massaged lightly with his thumb and forefinger. “It’s makin’ my head hurt just watchin’ ya.”

But Vin just continued to stare at him, still trying to understand what kept Larabee fighting so hard for him when it surely would have been so much simpler just to give up and let him go. “Don’t have t’ watch me,” he breathed. “Could jist turn away. Mebbe find somebody else ta watch.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Chris said softly, green eyes deep and warm. “Might as well face it, Tanner, you’re it for me. There’s nobody else I wanta watch, nobody else I wanta be with, nobody else I’d chase over Hell’s back yard after. And the sooner you get that straight, the sooner you can stop lookin’ for a way out of it.”

Vin stiffened and sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. “I don’t want out!” he rasped, his heart nearly stopping at the notion that Larabee could even think such. “I ain’t never wanted that! All’s I ever wanted is you.”

Chris smiled slightly. “And you’ve got me. Now, drink your tea. Then you’re gonna lay back down and we’re both gonna get some sleep.”

He winced and looked down into the cup. “No, I don’t wanta–”

“Vin,” Chris called gently, drawing the tracker’s gaze back up to his. “You need sleep. You need rest. And it’ll be all right.” He continued to rub Vin’s neck at the base of his skull, his long fingers pressing deeply into the tight muscles there. “You’re not alone, partner,” he said softly, his voice, eyes and fingers almost hypnotic. “You’re never gonna be alone again. And if I have ta hold you all night every night from now on ta prove that, well,” he smiled slowly, “there are worse ways I could spend my nights. And my life.”

Vin gave a small, wan smile as Larabee’s persistence began to erode his reluctance. “Ya don’t give up, do ya, cowboy?” he asked, only half teasing.

Chris shook his head, then slipped an arm about Tanner’s bowed shoulders and carefully drew the man against him, cradling him in the shelter of his own body. “Nope. Not when there’s somethin’ I really want. And, trust me, Vin, I really want you.”

“Well then,” Vin rasped, pressing his face into the warmth of Larabee’s throat and drinking in the man’s strength and certainty like a tonic, “I reckon there’s no sense in arguin’.”

“Not really.” Chris chuckled and dropped a kiss into Tanner’s unruly hair. “But that’s never stopped you before!”