PART 7

Buck sat with the others, not really wanting the companionship, rather it was just the simple fact he didn’t want to feel so alone. The warmth of the fire did nothing to settle the chill in Buck’s heart as he watched his friends. He knew they were trying to push aside the same bubbling panic he felt quivering in his own chest. Of course they all seemed to be a doing a hell of a lot better job covering it up than he was.

"I can’t just sit here." Buck heard the venom come off in his tongue as he pulled himself to his feet in one swift movement. Chris’ motions matched his own as the man placed himself between Wilmington and the tethered horses.

"Sit back down." Chris grabbed Buck’s upper arm firmly.

"He knows something, Chris, and I aim to find out what it is." Buck shrugged off his friend’s hand and resumed his long strides toward his gray.

"You gonna go in Weaver’s house and beat it out of him?"

Buck stopped and turned to face Larabee as the other men gathered behind their leader.

"If I have to." The softness of his tone did nothing to disguise the anger beneath his words. "I’ll drag him all the way to hell and back if that’ll make him talk."

"It don’t make no sense, Buck. Why would an old man like that hurt J.D.?" Nathan’s melodic voice of reason did nothing to ease the gunslinger’s mind.

"I don’t know. Tell me why he sent me off on a cold trail when he just as easily could have told me the truth?" Buck stepped forward into the healer’s face, propelled by frustration that discharged itself as rage. "That don’t make a hell of a lot of sense either now does it?"

"Josiah, you and Nathan go talk to Weaver again." Chris ordered, still never taking his eyes off Buck.

"I’m still goin’." Buck turned his back to them all and Chris grasped his arm again. His grip tight as he forcefully brought the larger man around to face him.

"No." The tone rang harsh, but Buck saw the understanding reflecting in Chris’ eyes. "Don’t ruin this. Let them handle it."

Buck let the defeat overtake him and he felt his knees grow weak and threaten to dump him into the dirt. Chris was right. He’d never get anywhere with Weaver like this, he was too upset, too frustrated and too desperate. Buck nodded in acquiescence and lowered himself onto ground before he lost all dignity and fell there anyway.

"Don’t worry. If he knows anything, we’ll get him to tell us."

Buck wanted to acknowledge Nathan’s optimism, wanted desperately to share in it, but he couldn’t. Instead he simply nodded his head and turned away.

"God help him if he doesn’t."

Buck squeezed his eyes shut tight at the ex-preacher’s whispered comment and wondered if Josiah was talking about Mr. Weaver or him.

*******

Edmund Weaver shifted his weight in the large rocking chair and let his eyes scan the horizon. The chill of the night air settled in his bones, but he had no desire to go inside. He didn’t have a whole lot of desire left to do much of anything anymore.

Despair clawed at the last remaining threads of hope he’d held onto as he felt his lifeline slipping away. Beth sensed his betrayal and had been avoiding him. What a fool he’d been to think he could hide something like this from her. Edmund bit at his lower lip to stop the trembling.

He hadn’t planned on hurting the boy really. He never asked for the young man’s help in the first place. The persistent brat was the one who insisted Edmund needed help and it seemed like more trouble to keep arguing with him than to give in. Figured he’d get him to put up a new gate near the clearing, keep him busy for a few hours then he’d leave him alone.

Course, he hadn’t expected the dang kid to talk a blue streak almost all the way there. The more he rambled the more Edmund missed his own boy. He had looked over at J.D., watching as he had lifted his head toward the sky, the wind blowing the strands of too long hair that strayed from under his hat. And the sight enraged him. Visions of life that he’d never see in his own son ever again.

Weaver remembered the fury that had consumed him at the time. He’d figured it was some sort of omen, God’s plan of retribution leading Edmund to finish what his distraught mind had concocted when he remembered the old well. J.D. had smiled when they’d stopped in the meadow and Edmund remembered feeling the boundaries of right and wrong snap inside his skull. J.D. had no right to smile. Not when Tommy was dead and buried.

J.D. had no right to live when it was one of his friends who’d seen to it that Tommy hadn’t.

It seemed logical at the time. Seemed downright poetic and justified to take from them as much as they took from him. Now he was scared his deed would be discovered. Not because of what the town might think of him or even what the law would do to him. He was terrified that if Beth found out, it would push her too far away from him to ever win her back.

And that fate was worse than dying.

*******

The small clapboard house stood stark in the hazy moonlight. Grotesque shadows cast a shroud of despair and loneliness over its simple frame. Josiah shivered in the night air as he looked over at Nathan and they both pulled their horses to a stop a few feet from the structure.

"Kinda spooky lookin’, ain’t it?" Nathan’s words echoed loudly in his ear and sent a new wave of chills down Josiah’s back.

"Like the Lord himself has seen fit to desert it." Josiah said softly and urged his mount forward.

"You fellers lost or somethin’?"

The deadly voice drifted from the darkness of the porch and Josiah and Nathan both stopped.

"No, Mr. Weaver." Josiah dismounted slowly and stepped tentatively to the railing. Can we talk inside, it’s a mite chilly out here."

Silence, then he heard the scraping of wood on wood as Mr. Weaver stood up and walked into his house, leaving the door open, but otherwise issuing no invitation. Josiah cut his eyes to Nathan and they quietly followed the man inside.

"Be quick about it, it’s damn near bedtime." Mr. Weaver dropped into a nearby chair, leaving the two men standing near the doorway.

"We think something’s happened to J.D. and you seem to be the last person that saw him." Josiah tried to keep his words steady and unaccusing as he studied the expressions playing on the old man’s face.

"Told that other friend o’ yours he rode back towards town yes’erdee and that’s the last I seen of ‘im."

"If you could just give us someplace to start lookin’…" Nathan’s words trailed off as Weaver glared up at him, his eyes squinting at the healer with a look of pure hatred.

"I don’t have to give you nothin’!" Mr. Weaver stiffened his back and stood to face the larger men without a hint of fear. "Didn’t seem too concerned when it was my boy who needed help, but then he weren’t one of your friends."

Josiah heard Nathan’s sharp intake of breath and stepped between the two men. He knew Edmund Weaver’s heart was consumed by grief and he was willing to give him some leeway because of it. But the old man’s bereavement seemed to be escalating into a fury that Josiah needed to diffuse.

"Mr. Weaver, Nathan did all he could for Thomas, the boy was just hurt too badly." Josiah lay a large hand on the frail man’s shoulder and squeezed gently. "J.D.’s just a boy too, maybe hurt and most likely scared out of his wits by now. We’d all appreciate it if you could just steer us in the right direction so we can find him before he gets in any more trouble."

Edmund shook off the ex-preacher's touch, but remained quiet. Breath hissed fast and labored through his mouth as he continued to stare at Nathan.

"I don’t know nothin’." The flat monotone of his words more chilling than the anger-laced rant earlier. No feeling, no pity, only coldness that invaded the air around them like a suffocating fog. Josiah knew there would be no reaching him tonight, maybe not ever.

"Thank you." Josiah whispered softly and gently led Nathan back outside.

"Buck’s right. He does know somethin’." Nathan’s hands shook with rage as he snatched the reins from the hitching post and swung his body in the saddle. "And he’ll go to his grave ‘fore he tells us."

"Maybe she knows?" Josiah watched as Beth strode toward them, her hair ruffled and her face flushed a bright crimson that shone brightly even in the dim glow of the night sky.

"Gentlemen." Beth greeted them, breathing hard and her voice quavered a bit as she spoke. "Just finishing up in the barn, what has you men out so late?"

"Still lookin’ for J.D., ma’am." Nathan spoke up and Josiah noticed her eyes darting nervously from one man to the other before she arched her brows in surprise.

"Oh, the poor boy." Sincerity dripped from those few words but she offered no clue that she knew her husband’s secret. "I would have thought you’d have found him by now."

"Ma’am, your husband didn’t mention anything about seeing where he went yesterday, did he?" Josiah didn’t want to put her on the defensive but he had to ask.

"No, just what he told Mr. Wilmington. I’m sure J.D.’s all right, maybe just off somewhere without any idea you all are worried."

"Hope so." Josiah winked and climbed onto his horse.

"Mr. Jackson, I hate to ask, but…" Beth swallowed hard then seemed to gather enough courage to continue. "Edmund’s been feeling poorly lately and I was wondering if you had something for a bad cough?"

Nathan looked questioningly at the woman.

"He’s too stubborn to bring it up with you himself, but I’d be most appreciative."

"Well, yes, ma’am, I’ve got some mixed peppermint and valerian root." The healer reached into his saddlebag and handed the woman a small pouch. "It’s good for lots of stuff, but it’ll stop a cough right quick too. Just mix it up with some hot water and have him drink as much as you can."

"Thank you, Mr. Jackson." Beth smiled and took his offering, clutching it to her chest as if she held the key to life itself inside that cloth sack.

"Have ‘im come see me if it don’t get no better. I’ll be back in town to check on things later tomorrow."

"I will." Beth nodded and stepped back to allow the horses room to move. "Good luck finding J.D."

"We’d appreciate it if you let us know if you see anything." Josiah spurred his horse into a trot, slowing to let Nathan catch up after they’d gotten out of Beth’s hearing range.

"You did everything you could for their boy, Nathan." Josiah’s words were a statement, not a question and he wanted his friend to know Thomas’ death wasn’t something he could have prevented. He’d seen the damage the bull had caused, saw the young man’s chest splayed open like a gutted fish and he knew. Everybody in that room knew. Everybody except Edmund Weaver.

"I’ve thought about it over and over, about what I mighta done different, but I still don’t think a real doctor coulda saved him."

"A man sometimes has to find someone to blame or it’ll drive him crazy, whether it be you or the Good Lord, don’t much matter to him. A grieving father picks the closest target ‘cause it’s the easiest way to deal with the pain."

"I know. It just ain’t easin’ my pain none."

"Yes, but at least you’re not smothering your pain with hatred, my friend."

*******

Before the first hint of daylight they were all awake, rolling up bedrolls and trying to down enough coffee to keep them awake for a few hours. The silence of the previous night continued, each knowing what was at stake if J.D. wasn’t found soon. Words weren’t necessary to know they were running out of time.

Buck saddled his gray in the pre-dawn light and prayed to himself the kid was all right, lost or stuck somewhere, bruised and cut-up a bit, but more pissed off than hurt. Please, just let him be ok. Now more than ever he was convinced Weaver knew something and it tore him up that J.D. could be in serious trouble and that old man was too sick with his own heartache to even give a damn.

"Me and Vin’s going through the canyon again. Maybe pick up some tracks."

Buck nodded and pulled the cinch tighter, but he didn’t turn to face Chris. "I’m goin’ towards Red Fork, didn’t get a real good look along that trail yesterday."

Wilmington swung into the saddle and looked wearily at his oldest friend. Sometimes that man could be the coldest bastard alive and it was all he could do not to slap him silly. Then there were times, like now, when he’d catch a glimpse of the man he’d called friend for so long. The loyal confidante and concerned brother he’d been before Sarah and Adam had died and he’d tried to unload his compassion like he did his six-shooter. Buck’s heart longed for the old Chris to come back to stay, but so far that wasn’t the side Larabee chose to show the world these days.

Buck knew him better though. He was probably the only one who could see through the mask of hardness and bravado Chris wore when he didn’t want anyone to get close. Whatever gets him through the day, Buck thought, yet he wished the others had known him then. They’d have called him a sap, but a few years ago Chris would have admitted it happily. Buck shook his head at the intruding and painful memories of things that no longer were and could never be again.

"Don’t get too far out of range so we can hear the shots if you find him." Worry and compassion swirled in Chris’ eyes and Buck knew no matter how hard the man tried, he’d never fully purge himself of his ability to care. Maybe that was the reason Buck hadn’t let Chris’ demons run him off.

"Who’s comin’ with me?" Buck half-asked Chris, half-announced to camp.

Ezra pulled his chestnut alongside Buck and flashed a half-hearted grin. "I do believe I have that honor."

"Don’t kill him, Buck." Chris stated matter-of-factly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I do believe that is an order, Mr. Wilmington." Ezra said with mock seriousness. Buck realized they both were just trying to lighten the mood, but he couldn’t even laugh to be polite. Not until they’d found J.D., not until he knew the boy was safe. Then he could joke again.

Ezra’s face fell briefly before he recovered his composure and followed after the gunslinger. Buck appreciated the company, hell, he wouldn’t mind Ezra’s constant chatter right now.

He needed some distraction from the sickening feeling they might already be too late.

---

PART 8

Beth finished wringing out the wet cloth for what seemed like the hundredth time that morning and again ran it across J.D.’s flushed cheeks. Sweat disappeared then popped out again as quickly as she washed it away.

The herbs Mr. Jackson had given her last night worked quickly and she had gone to bed convinced the boy was getting better. Beth had awoken early and fixed J.D. a light breakfast, dismayed to see his condition had grown worse overnight. She should have stayed with him, she thought as she rinsed the rag again and continued to wipe his fever-wracked body. The cough that had worried her last night had been replaced with a persistent and labored wheeze that left him fighting for each breath, and Beth’s heart pounded in terror that each strained exhale would be his last. She had run out of remedies and it scared her to consider she still might lose him.

She smoothed the boy’s wet hair, moving the cloth to gently stroke his heated forehead and tried to decide what to do. She had desperately hoped he hadn’t been hurt too badly, that he’d be up and on his way back into town in a day or two. Things never seemed to work out that way though. Beth’s eyes closed wearily as she continued – dipping the rag, wiping J.D.’s face and neck until the cloth drew in the heat and she had to repeat the motions all over again.

J.D. groaned deeply and sucked in a gulp of air. Glazed brown-green eyes opened and she stared at the pain and fear in his glassy stare. Beth tried to smile at him, just in case he actually saw her at all.

"J.D.?" Beth’s voice caught in her throat and she cupped her hand around the side of his face. "Can you hear me?"

J.D.’s eyes closed and his head lolled into the pillow, his jaw slack and his body limp. Oh, God, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead!; Beth shook violently as she placed one palm against his chest.

A brief cry of relief spilled out as she felt the vibrations of the steady heartbeat thumping against his breastbone and she made up her mind. She couldn’t let this innocent child suffer anymore for her own selfishness. She’d have to get Mr. Jackson and she’d have to make sure she thought up a damn good reason for lying about not knowing where J.D. was last night. Beth also hoped the black man would be discrete and not ask any questions.

Questions she had asked herself already, but wasn’t sure she really wanted answers to.

*******

Buck tried to push aside the desperation filling the pit of his stomach, but the farther they rode without so much as a sign, the harder it became to deny his panic. The countryside was just too big and the longer J.D. stayed missing, the more his hysteria grew.

"Mr. Wilmington."

Ezra’s voice cut through his preoccupied thoughts and he turned in his saddle. Damn, he had actually forgotten the Southerner was riding behind him. Buck followed Ezra’s gaze through the crop of trees and into the small clearing. At first he didn’t see anything, but then movement and he leaned forward and stared between thick limbs and foliage.

A few horses grazed in the tall weeds and Buck squinted and focused his eyes on a bay with a white star with a familiar saddle strapped to its back. Buck felt as if he had just been kicked in the stomach by the business end of an ornery mule and he quickly turned his mount into a gallop down the incline.

Three young men sat in the shade of a huge tree, obviously just beginning to break camp. They all scrambled to their feet, wide-eyed and pale as the urgent thundering of hooves rushed toward them. Buck’s boots hit the ground moving and he drew his gun so fast none of the strangers had an opportunity to go for their own sidearms.

"Mister, I don’t know…" The older of the trio started, then quickly shut up as Buck stuck the muzzle of his pistol in the man’s neck.

Men. That was an exaggeration. They weren’t much more than over-grown boys and obviously scared out of their wits by such a display of aggression. Buck laughed to himself, realizing now that not one of them could have been older than 24, one even looked barely old enough to be out of knee pants. Probably a set of brothers since they looked just alike. All three were scared out of their wits, a fact Buck planned to play to the hilt.

"Where’d you get that pretty little bay over yonder?" Buck’s voice dripped with a venomous tone he’d learned from Chris, but rarely found a use for. Seeing these runts with J.D.’s horse certainly seemed like a reason right now.

"Buck." Ezra’s tone was unusually soft and held a hint of fear. He knew Ezra had seen him this angry before and anticipated his temper would eventually get the best of him. Still, Buck ignored the gambler and pressed the cold metal deeper into the young man’s flesh, hoping the kid didn’t notice his finger rested well away from the trigger.

"Found it wanderin’ around out here, Mister." The kid’s voice squeaked on the last word, just like J.D. did when he was scared. Instead of generating any feelings of empathy, the reminder only fueled Buck’s anger.

Buck grabbed the young man’s throat in his free hand and waved the revolver at the other two boys.

"Either one of you wanna tell me the truth now?!" Buck could feel the veins in his neck straining against his rage and hoped the fire in his soul was shining through his eyes. Apparently it was, because the youngest boy couldn’t control the flood of tears that streamed silently down his ghostly face.

A touch of guilt washed over Buck, but he fought it. J.D.’s life might depend on what they’d seen and he’d be damned if he let sentiment ruin any chance he might have.

"Buck!" Ezra’s voice grew insistent, but he didn’t budge as the conman’s hand clamped over his wrist. "Perhaps we should question these fine lads in a slightly more civilized manner first."

Buck let his gun drop, the shakiness in his arm and the wild thumping of his heart beginning to take its toll.

"Get over here." Buck whispered to the two boys and they slowly joined their friend, the middle one eyeing the big gunslinger nervously as he ushered the youngest one past.

"Now gentlemen, I do believe it to be in your best interest at this point, to tell us exactly how you happened to acquire our friend’s horse." Ezra smiled widely and Buck admired the man’s ability to keep his head in most any situation. Something he couldn’t do, especially when it came to J.D.’s welfare.

"Honest Mister, we found it a mile or so back, just before we stopped for the night." The young man’s long blondish hair hung in his huge dark eyes and he looked as close to tears as the younger boy huddled behind him.

"What are you boys doin’ out here?" Buck leaned in toward them.

"We’re lookin’ for our pa. He left Texas last year, lookin’ for work out in California, but we ain’t heard from him for a while."

"Ma’s real sick and sent us to find him." The middle brother tried his best to seem menacing, but he still couldn’t stop the tremble in his lower lip as he locked eyes with Wilmington.

"Exactly where did you find that horse?" Buck tried to make his own words come out threatening, but his heart had began to soften already.

They were just kids. Scared kids who didn’t have a clue about what they were getting into when they set off on their little adventure. Not only were they not hardened criminals, hell, they didn’t even know how to pretend to be. They’d better learn fast before this country swallowed them alive. Like it almost did J.D.

"Just beyond those rocks. He was grazing in a meadow, still wearing that saddle. We looked for a rider, Mister." The young man’s voice piqued again, then he dropped his eyes in shame. "We filled our canteens and rested a spell, then called out for him, but nobody showed up. Figured he’d been thrown or something. We didn’t mean to steal him. Honest we didn’t."

Buck looked at Ezra. If anyone could spot a con, the gambler could.

"Go on about your business, men. Please accept our apologies for our rude manner of questioning. I hope you’ll understand our worry over the condition of our friend."

"Yes, sir." The boys continued to huddle together, neither of them breaking from the pack.

"You boys better watch your backs out here. This ain’t Texas no more." Buck gently slapped the oldest kid’s shoulder, his defenses now totally broken down. "Lot of people around here ain’t nearly as friendly as we are."

Buck winked and smiled broadly, hoping to undo a little bit of the damage his temper had caused. A deep sense of regret and concern swept over him. Damn it, why do I always find the strays? Buck realized he cared too much sometimes. He knew that come sundown he’d certainly wonder how far they’d gotten; come next month he’d hope like hell they’d found their father alive and well; two months from now he’d make himself believe they’d learned enough to stay alive in this rugged country so he could finally stop thinking about them.

"We have to ride back to town, Buck."

Buck could tell from the defensive tone in Ezra’s voice that he expected him to put up a fight, but the gunslinger knew he was right. They needed supplies, they needed fresh horses, they needed food in their bellies that was more substantial than jerky. That was the rational side of him talking. Of course, his soul resisted logic. He was exhausted and heartsick, but he wasn’t ready to give up.

Buck nodded and pulled his tall frame into the saddle. He stared into the cloudless sky, his heart heavy with dread and utter frustration. He was no closer than he’d been two days ago and he felt the remaining slivers of hope slipping from his grasp.

No.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d go back to town, grab what he needed and get back to his search within the hour. He would find that boy. He had to.

*******

Edmund watched as Beth came out of Thomas’ cabin and made her way toward the barn. She didn’t think he knew how much time she spent there – moping, crying and dwelling on things she couldn’t do nothing about. Not that he didn’t have to fight to keep the same feelings away, Lord knows it tore him up all over again to even look at that house. He should have burned it the day Tommy died. Then he wouldn’t have to be constantly reminded of what had been stolen from him.

Well, at least he’d had the gumption to do more about it than mope around. He wanted that darkie witch doctor to pay dearly for not saving his boy. Edmund thought it was the least he could do for Thomas.

He watched Beth ride towards town and wondered what else she could be doing in there all day and into the night. Fixing it up, keeping it tidy? Like that was going do a calf’s lick worth of good now. And where was she riding off to? Edmund had lost his son and now it seemed he was losing his wife to the boy’s ghost.

Weaver stepped off the porch and headed for the cabin. Maybe he’d set fire to it now – nothing else seemed to make him feel better – couldn’t hurt. Maybe if he destroyed all the reminders he’d be all right. Maybe they both would.

*******

Nathan ate quickly, his appetite non-existent, but since he hadn’t had anything resembling real food in two days, he knew he needed to finish his meal. Inez had met him as soon as he entered the saloon, asking if they’d found J.D., telling him he’d just missed Beth Weaver. Jackson wondered what could have changed between last night and this morning to make her come looking for him, but he figured he’d better ride out there as soon as Yosemite had him a rested mount saddled and ready to go.

He watched Ezra and Buck ride forlornly in and knew things weren’t good. Where was that boy? No doubt something had happened to him, question was what? And were they too late to help him now anyway? Nathan watched Buck’s slouched stance as he took Ezra’s horse and made his way toward the livery. The healer said a silent prayer that they weren’t.

Nathan pushed aside his plate and threw his money on the table. His bones hurt and the last thing he wanted to do was get back on another horse and suck dust and stifling hot air again, but he didn’t have a choice. Once the Weavers’ were taken care of he’d spend the rest of the day searching. Again. Same as the others. Same as they’d do everyday until they found J.D.

He settled his large brim hat on his head and squinted in the afternoon sun and almost ran headlong into Buck as he approached the saloon.

"Nathan?" Jackson knew Buck’s greeting was a disguised question asking him if he’d had any luck.

"Didn’t see nothin’, Buck. Goin’ out to the Weavers’ place as soon as I grab a few things from my room. Figured I’d start lookin’ from there again when I’m done."

"I’ll ride out there with ya, if you don’t mind?" Buck looked ready to drop, but Nathan knew the man had to be doing something all the time or he felt useless. He knew how he felt.

"Guess I shouldn’t bother to tell you to take a rest?"

Buck nodded and grinned half-heartedly. "Don’t need to rest, Nathan. I need to find J.D."

Nathan nodded in understanding. "I know. Meet me over at the livery in ten minutes and we’ll ride out to the Weaver’s."

---

Part 9

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