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LaraMee Deux

Rating: G

Note: this is total silliness, filled with toilet humor and written for those who aren’t offended by it. If you are, go away now!




Nathan Jackson sighed and leaned his head back against the rough wood of the wall. He knew he should return to his room, it was late. But he knew he would just end up returning here in a matter of minutes. It made just as much sense to stay where he was, no matter how odd it might look to any passersby. Granted, passersby were few and far between at this time of night, but still…

He sighed again and tried to find a comfortable position. There weren’t any, at least not sitting down. He stood for a few minutes, but found himself tiring quickly. Finally settling on a sort of crouch, supported against the wall, he closed his eyes and attempted to catch a few minutes sleep. That was almost as difficult as finding a comfortable position. He wasn’t even certain how long it had been since he had slept, but it seemed to have been a very long time.

Footsteps brought the healer out of his fog, and he looked up to see a familiar figure approaching. It was Josiah Sanchez, walking passed on his rounds. He pressed back farther into the shadows, not wanting the other man to find him here. It would bring about far more questions than he was willing to answer at the moment. The healer watched as the other man strode passed, disappearing around the edge of the building.

A sudden wave of nausea overtook Jackson, followed by violent cramps. "Ah, hell," he said, wiping away the sweat that had suddenly broken out. Managing to get to his feet, Nathan lurched forward and stumbled into the little building behind the hotel. Slamming the door, he groaned as the cycle began again.

It was nearly half an hour before the dark man emerged once more. Groaning, he resumed his seat against the wall nearby, and waited for it to begin once more. What was he going to do if it was still going on at daybreak? The entire town was likely to see him sitting there, hovering around the privy as if he were guarding it or something. He had to laugh at that thought. It wasn’t far off to think of himself as the privy guard. He’d seen more of it in the past several hours than he normally did in several days. It wasn’t something he intended on sharing with anyone, that was for certain…either his marathon at the privy, or whatever it was that had caused him to camp out in the vicinity.

The problem had begun soon after breakfast. He had felt funny before that, but after eating with the others, he had really begun to feel sick. He tried one of his natural remedies, but it didn’t even take the edge off his sudden illness. Within the hour, he had found himself dashing from his clinic office to the roughhewn boxy facility that made up the town’s public toilet. Emerging a short time later, he had made it only three-quarters of the way up the stairs before stumbling back down once again. And so the cycle began.


The soft rumble of Josiah’s voice brought Jackson from his reverie. Sheepishly he looked up from his seat next to the outhouse. "Howdy Josiah," he said quietly. Easing himself up, he felt another intestinal storm begin to build.

"You okay?"

"I’m fine."

"Then what are you doin’, sittin’ out here next to the privy?"

Several possible explanations came to him, only to be quickly discarded. Finally he settled on the truth. The fact that he suddenly found himself doubled over with cramps added to his need to finish the conversation as quickly as possible. The big preacher reached out a hand as Nathan staggered slightly.

"How can I help brother?" He asked in genuine concern.

"Keep this between me an’ you, Josiah, okay? I’d rather not have t’ listen t’ Buck’s jokes…and y’ know he’s gonna come up with ‘m." That said, he disappeared behind the rickety door. Even as he did, he heard Sanchez chuckle and answer him.

"Yep. Think it’d be best if we kept it our little secret."

When he re-emerged sometime later, Jackson was relieved to find himself alone once more. Tiredly, he resumed his place on the wall.











"Good morning brothers," Josiah greeted the three other men who sat at the table, just preparing for breakfast. A chorus of "good morning" came in reply, and he took the seat next to Vin Tanner. The young man would be leaving on patrol soon, and Josiah wanted a word with him in private.

"So, the town still all in one piece?" Buck asked around a mouthful of flapjacks.

"Nothing out of the ordinary going on at all," Josiah replied. "Nothing at all."

"Reckon me an’ J.D.’ll have t’ see if we can change that," the gunman joked. "Hate it when things get too quiet for very long."

"Count me out, " the young sheriff said. "I’ve got the day off, and me an’ Casey’s goin’ for a ride."

"A ride huh?" Wilmington’s dark blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "Y’ know, General could use a good run. Maybe we’ll join you."

"NO!" the little brunet shouted.

"Aw, now come on, boy," the man’s mustache fairly twitched with humor as he continued to harass his surrogate little brother. "Y’ know what they say…the more th’ merrier – "

"Yeah, well whoever said that had never met you," Dunne retorted irritably.

Buck clutched his chest and yelped. "You wound me deeply, son. What did I ever do t’ deserve such a malicious attack?"

"You deserve a lot more than that," J.D. replied as he speared the last sausage on Wilmington’s plate and shoved it into his mouth before the big man could react.

"Boy!" Buck yelped, grabbing the young man’s bowler and threatening it with a pitcher of molasses.

With a cry that bordered on anger, the smaller man grabbed the hat and dashed from the room, Wilmington on his heels, armed with the pitcher.

Watching the exchange with a broad grin, the lean tracker had not spoken. It was not unusual, unlike the two who had just left, Vin Tanner rarely said anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. Sanchez took comfort in that fact.

"Vin, when you were with the Indians, you picked up a lot of information, right?"

"Yep," he answered.

"You know much about the healing tools of the shaman?"

"Some, why?"

"Well, did you ever hear of anything that would help…well…um…" he tried to decide on a tactful way to broach the subject. The younger man said waiting patiently, his pale blue eyes watching him serenely. "Well, shall we say stomach ailments?"

The tracker nodded, his brow furrowing in thought. For several minutes the two men sat in companionable silence while Vin searched his memory for something that would be helpful. Finally he shook his head. "Can’t say that I recall anythin’, but I’ll ponder on it awhile. I’ll let y’ know if I come up with anything though."

"Appreciate it Vin. And, could you…well…keep this between us?"

With a nod, and a hand touched to the brim of his hat, Tanner rose. "Reckon I best get out on patrol. See y’ later, Josiah."

"I’ll be here," Sanchez answered.

Outside on the boardwalk, Vin pondered the conversation he had just had with Josiah. The preacher seemed uncomfortable about something, and considering his questions Tanner decided that the older man was too embarrassed about his…problem…to talk to Nathan. Well, if he couldn’t help the other man with a remedy, he could at least check with the healer for suggestions. With a nod to himself, the young tracker started toward the healer’s little clinic.











Nathan groaned as another wave of nausea overtook him. He had managed to get back to his room just after dawn, but knew it wouldn’t last. He could already tell that he would be making another trip soon. He had spent the time since managing to return to the clinic looking over his books in an attempt to find something he had missed earlier that would help. Sighing, he wondered how long he could keep the other men from finding out about his malady. He knew he could count on the discretion of Josiah and Chris. Vin and Ezra…well, you never could tell about them. Sometimes they could be true gentlemen, but sometimes…well, sometimes they could act more childish than Billy Travis. And Buck and J.D., well, Buck would never be able to let something like this pass, and J.D. would be tagging right behind him.

The inner storm kicked up again and, holding a hand to his churning gut, Nathan hurried toward the door. As he barreled out, walking with quick, stiff steps, the door connected with something hard that responded with a grunt. Peering behind the door, he found Vin slumped against the wall, rubbing his nose.

"Damn, Nathan!" The young man growled, tenderly checking his nose for blood or signs of a break.

"Sorry Vin!" The healer called behind him as he continued toward the stairway.

"Hey, Nathan, hold up! I gotta question for y’," Tanner called out.

"Not now, Vin, I’ll be back directly." With that Jackson disappeared.

Still rubbing his nose, Tanner followed behind. By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, the other man was nowhere to be found. He climbed back up the stairs and planted himself on the little bench that sat on the landing outside the clinic. With a sniff he decided that his nose had survived the attack, and the lean hunter stretched out to wait for the healer to return from wherever he had gone. Pulling out his harmonica, he began blowing softly.


Down below, Nathan found the nearby privy occupied. There were a few smaller ones behind some of the homes, but it would be rude to utilize them without the owner’s permission. Jackson had no desire to go to any of the townsfolk with such a request. Knowing it was going to be a moot point soon if he didn’t hurry, he dashed behind the buildings and hurried toward the trees beyond.












"Vin? What are you doing up here?" Josiah asked as he stepped up onto the landing outside the clinic.

Tanner had been dozing, and woke up startled and embarrassed. He was supposed to be out on patrol and instead he was caught sleeping. Leaping to his feet, he mumbled something about hitting his nose, and dashed past the older man. He didn’t want the older man to know that he had planned to break his confidence.

Sanchez watched the young hunter hurry away and shook his head. He doubted that he would ever be able to read Vin Tanner. Putting it out of his mind, he quietly entered the healer’s rooms, planning to see what he could do to help his friend out. A few minutes later, he reappeared. Where was Nathan?













Nathan had managed to get out into the nearest wooded area. He hated the primitive answer to his problem. The healer had lived in deprivation most of his life and had shrugged it off, but not having the use of facilities was something he had never enjoyed. He considered returning, but knew that it would be impossible to keep things secret if he did. It seemed silly to consider his current malady something to keep private. He of all people knew that it was simply something that happened to a person from time to time. Still, the thought of a healer unable to cure his own illness would be fodder for many evenings of jest and merriment at his expense. Jackson knew that this would be more difficult to handle than his current predicament. With a grumble, he tried once more to find a comfortable position. "Damn it," he said to himself, "why didn’t I think t’ bring a book or somethin’?"












Vin slipped back into town and hurried up the stairs to Nathan’s clinic. Surely the ex-slave had returned from his errand by now. He had run a quick check on the perimeter of the town and returned. The tracker would finish the rest of his patrol as soon as he had gotten the advice he sought from Nathan. Right now he felt that the big preacher’s health was a bit more important.

Reaching the landing he hurried to the door, hoping he wouldn’t end up getting smacked again while entering. He managed to get into the room without being assaulted, but was disappointed to find it empty. He looked around the little clinic, hoping that he would see something that looked familiar, that would allow him to help Josiah. There was nothing, unfortunately and he left the room in frustration. Where the hell was Nathan?













Jackson was dozing miserably in the trees. He leaned against a trunk, dark eyes closed against the late morning sun, hoping that his trial was nearing it’s completion. Until then he would be self-exiled in the little cove, hidden from the world at large…and his six friends in particular. Deciding that he felt safe enough to try to make it back to his rooms, he climbed slowly to his feet and took a few steps toward the little cluster of buildings. And found himself doubling over once more.

"Ah hell," he groaned once more.













Tanner had completed his rounds as quickly as possible, not dallying at any of his typical favorite spots. The waterhole and the broad overlook that he typically spent part of the time at would have to wait for another day. He had not forgotten the big former preacher’s request of that morning, and wanted to return to see if he could finally connect with Nathan. He grimaced as he amended that thought…connect with Nathan and not his door. Absently the tracker rubbed his still tender nose and kneed Peso a little faster.

Coming to the edge of town, Vin slowed the horse, letting the big black trot along the street as he pointed the big animal toward Nathan’s clinic. As he reached the wooden stairs, he tied the horse at the base and hurried up the stairs. Reaching the door, he knocked tentatively and peered around it into the dark room. "Nathan?" There was no answer. Going farther into the room, he called again, "Nathan?" Shaking his head, Tanner took off his hat, scratching his head. There were no signs that the man had been back since he had come looking for him earlier. Must have been something serious to keep Jackson away this long. He hadn’t seen the healer during his rounds, but could have easily missed him. Where the hell was Nathan?











  Mid-afternoon. Nathan yawned, stretched and smiled. No cramps, no gurgling, growling, complaining insides. Smiling, he pulled his six-foot plus frame up, and headed back toward town. He wanted the biggest glass of water he could find, and a nap. He hoped that the townsfolk had the good sense to stay healthy for a few more hours…

"Ah hell," he hadn’t even thought about that. What if something had happened while he was gone? Picking up his pace, the healer grumbled at himself. If something had happened to someone…

"Hey, Nathan!"

Looking up from his musings, the healer spotted Vin Tanner riding his way. "Damn," he mumbled to himself, who was injured? "Vin!" he answered the young tracker. "What’s wrong?"

Pulling up next to the former slave, Tanner said, "well, just got a question for y’, Nathan. Reckon Josiah’s feelin’ kinda poorly, but he seems a mite embarrassed ‘bout it. Been lookin’ for y’ most a th’ day. He asked me ‘bout Indian remedies this mornin’ at breakfast, but I can’t think a none. He swore me t’ secrecy, reckon maybe he’s worried ‘bout getting’ teased. Could y’ recommend somethin’ t’ help out with stomach ailments?"

Berating himself for not being available for his friend, Jackson picked up his pace, hurrying toward town. A few yards later, Vin pacing him on Peso, everything seemed to fall into place. Laughing long and hard, and even harder at the shocked expression of the handsome man nearby, he shook his head and changed direction, heading toward his clinic.


Waving a hand, Jackson continued on his way. "Tell Josiah everything’s gonna be fine."

Tanner pulled up, watching the man walk away as if there was nothing to worry about. Where the hell was Nathan going?


The End