The storm ended just after one the following afternoon and people looked out at the snow-covered town they called home. Most of them made the slow trek to their homes while the six peacekeepers kept watch over the fevered man. The Wilson’s stayed to help, while Gloria Potter took her children and returned to their house. Tiny checked the horses and made sure they had enough feed and water before taking to his own bed. Late that evening they transferred Chris out of the saloon. He was bundled in blankets and carried by his six friends up to Jackson’s clinic where JD Dunne had already started the fire in the stove. The heat quickly spread throughout the clinic as the men hurried inside and placed the sleeping man on the bed.
Through the long days and nights that followed, the battle to save Chris Larabee’s life continued. The fever intensified to the point where the blankets needed to be changed on the bed and the pillows. He was never left alone, and someone always held him when his eyes grew wide and signaled another attack was about to begin. They soothed him with soft words and gentle touches when he cried out for his family. During the worst of the fever induced illusions and nightmares nothing worked to calm the blond. JD sported a black eye, delivered by Larabee’s right fist when he tried to hold the gunslinger on the bed. The six men were exhausted, but no man was willing to give up on the care of their friend. Martha Wilson continued to make the mustard plasters that were placed on Larabee’s chest or back. Gloria and Inez delivered coffee and meals to the clinic for whoever was watching over the sick man. Yosemite organized the men of Four Corners and they took over peacekeeping duties while Larabee’s friends tended to him.
Vin sat beside the bed, watching the blond who lay still under several layers of blankets. They’d finally convinced Jackson to get some much needed rest, but only after swearing they’d wake him if there was any change at all. The Texan watched as the eyelids fluttered and the eyes slowly turned towards him. He reached for the cup of warm liquid on the table beside him and held it to the blond’s lips, watching as he painfully swallowed the offering.
Chris took as much of the liquid as he could, before turning away and trying to speak. “E...nough...”
“Alright. How’re ya feelin’?”
“S...still cold...d...don’t think I’ll e...ver be warm a...gain.”
“Sure ya will. Seems like yer fever’s finally startin’ ta come down,” the tracker explained.
“H...how long...I b...been out?”
“Three days. We got back here on Christmas day...you’ve been out of it most of the time.”
“Three d...days,” Larabee moaned and tried to sit up.
“You’d best lie still. Nathan’ll have yer hide if’n ya try ta get outta that bed...”
“Damn right he will,” the two men looked up as the healer threw back the blankets and sat up. He rubbed at still tired eyes before walking the short distance to the sick man.
Vin stood up and moved away to allow the healer to sit beside the ill man’s bed. He watched the healer place his hand on Larabee’s forehead before reaching for his stethoscope.
“Chris, I need to sit you up a bit more, just let Vin help you,” the former slave said as the tracker moved in to help the sick man sit further up in the bed.
Larabee felt as weak as a newborn kitten as the younger man helped him sit up. He took shallow breaths in an effort to stop the spurt of coughing he felt coming on, but was unable to prevent the full blown attack. He felt the tracker’s hands massage his shoulders as he leaned forward. He heard Jackson talking to him, but his concentration was on the pain in his chest and throat as he worked to expel the mucus from his lungs. Over and over the painful sounds escaped him as the two men tried to sooth his pain. His energy spent he lay back against the pillow, moisture evident in his eyes as the bout finally subsided.
“Chris, I need you to drink....”
“W...what i...is it,” Larabee moaned before the healer finished.
“A little Osha tea...It’ll help your throat and ease that cough. Sit him up a little, Vin,” Jackson ordered as he hurried to the stove and poured a small amount of the warm liquid into a cup. He returned to the bed and the pale blond.
“H...hate that s...shit,” Larabee wheezed as the cup was held to his mouth. He grimaced as the taste hit him and tried to turn away.
“Chris, you need it...”
“I...I’m trying, N...Nathan...tired...”
“I know you are, there’s just a little more. Finish this and we’ll let you rest.”
“...okay...” Larabee said and turned his head back to the healer. He finished the small amount of liquid and again his face turned up at the taste and the queasiness it caused in his stomach.
“Alright, Vin, ease him back down. I’m gonna get another...”
“No...”
“No what, Cowboy?” Tanner asked softly.
“N...no more of that s...shit or mus...tard...plas...ter,” the blond told him.
“Chris, remember that talk we had?’
“T...talk?”
“About ya doin’ everythin’ Nathan says...”
“N...not fair, Vin. N...never thought you’d b...blackmail,” Larabee hissed as his eyes closed.
“Not blackmail, Pard, just remindin’ ya of yer promise.”
“W...will keep pro...mise,” the blond whispered through his ravaged throat, his eyes closing as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.
“He’s sleeping, Vin, that’s what he needs now. It’s better than any medicines I can give him,” Jackson told the worried tracker.
“Will he be okay, Nathan?”
“I think so. His fever’s come down a lot and in spite of the heavy wheeze his breathing seems a little less labored. Now about this blackmail or promise...”
“He said if’n we helped him put up a little tree between Sarah and Adam’s grave he’d do anything ya said in order ta get well.”
“Ah, so I can keep him in this bed until I think he’s ready to get out of it,” the healer said with a smile.
“I wouldn’t try ta keep him down ta long, Nathan. Ya might end up with a coiled rattler ready ta strike,” the Texan drawled softly.
“Yeah, I ‘spect you’re right about that, but at least he’ll stay here ‘til I’m sure he’s strong enough to be on his own. Why don’t you go on over to the saloon and get something to eat...maybe get Inez to make up one of those broths of hers for Chris?”
“Ya want me ta bring ya back somethin’?”
“One of those tortillas and a coffee.” Jackson turned his attention back to his patient and again touched the forehead. Larabee was cooler, but the fever was still present, and the wheezing signaled the man was far from well. He eased the blankets up over the chest and sat back in his chair. He hated when these men were sick. Most of the time his friends thought it was because of their stubbornness and arguments about being in the clinic, but that was wrong. He hated it because they were his friends, the people who meant the most to him. His emotions always ran high when he treated patients, but even more so when these men relied on his hands to heal them. No matter how often he treated them and watched them walk away, he still felt inadequate. Turning away from the bed he picked up the cup and stood up, wincing as his muscles protested loudly.
“T...thanks, N...Nathan.”
Jackson turned back to see the sea green eyes gazing at him from under half mast lids. He nodded and smiled as he realized these men were more than confident in his abilities.
“You’re welcome, Chris, now close those eyes and get some sleep.”
“...okay...but n...no broth...”
“That’s about all you’ll be able to handle for a few days.”
“D...damn...ra...ther have...”
“No tortillas.”
“S...shit...”
The healer watched as the eyes closed once more. “Goodnight, Chris.”
“...night...” the blond’s voice was weak as he turned slightly on his right side and drifted towards sleep.
He heard the worry in their voices and struggled through the thick fog surrounding him. He wanted to ease their minds, but the energy needed to open his eyes was beyond his ability for now. He felt a cool cloth placed on his forehead and moaned as it touched his heated skin.
“Just lie still, Chris, you’re gonna be fine...”
“J....Jo....siah,” the blond rasped.
“That’s right, Son. How do you feel?”
“I...I’m...o...”
“No, you’re not, Pard...”
Larabee finally forced his eyes open and turned slightly towards the voice beside him.
“Buck...what hap....happened...”
“Chris, you had a relapse, but I think you’re gonna start getting better now,” Jackson said, as Wilmington relinquished the chair beside Larabee’s bed.
“S...sorry...”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Son. You just need to lie there and let Nathan help you get better,” the ex-preacher warned.
“T...thanks...Josiah,” Larabee said as he moved on the bed. His arms and legs felt weighed down as he shifted his body. He smiled gratefully as Jackson and Sanchez helped him sit up a little further.
Jackson touched the pale forehead, pleased to find it cooler than the last few time he checked. He used the stethoscope to listen to the sick man’s lungs once more. Satisfied that things seemed to be turning around he sat back in the chair and smiled tiredly.
“Well, it seems like you’ve finally turned the corner...”
“How lo...long th...this time?”
“You’ve been out of it for two days...”
“Two days....tomor...row’s...”
“New Years Eve and don’t even think about making any trips except maybe to the commode. You’re not to get out of that bed unless I tell you too. Understood?’ the healer asked. His voice held a hint of promise that things would go a lot better for Chris Larabee if he stayed where he was.
“Damn...”
“Understood?” Jackson asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“I...I’ll...”
“Understood?” the healer interrupted again.
“Nathan...”
“I think you’d better answer him, Stud!” Wilmington warned of the look on the former slave’s face.
“Un...der....stood,” the blond wheezed sheepishly, his strength just about gone once more.
“Good, Now that we understand each other, Chris, I’ve got some things for you to drink.”
“D....don’t want none o...of th....that sh....shit...”
“Now you listen here, Chris Larabee. For the next week you’re gonna lie in that damn bed and eat and drink anything I tell you too including that shit! We’re all tired and if you hold to the promise you made to Vin and Buck then just maybe the rest of us can get some sleep. Now, drink the tea Josiah’s holding and I’ll get you some of the broth Inez made for you. Understood?”
“S...shit...yeah...okay...” the blond stammered as he sipped the bitter brew Sanchez held before his mouth.
He finished what was in the cup and closed his eyes. He knew his friends were worried about him, but he didn’t have the energy to ease their minds. He soon smelled something new placed before him and knew Jackson had returned with the broth.
“Alright, Chris, one more thing to drink and then you can sleep again,” the healer explained and was relieved when Larabee drank the flavorful broth.
Chris felt the cup removed and a warm cloth washed over his face as he sank towards a healing sleep. He sighed heavily as the blankets were lifted over him and someone patted his arm. The last words he heard before he gave into the call of sleep came from Nathan Jackson and he smiled inwardly.
“You know it’d be a lot easier if I could find something to blackmail all of you with.” The healer sat beside the bed and ran his fingers through his hair. He rubbed tiredly at his blood shot eyes and looked at the cot across the room.
“Go on and get some rest, Nathan. You said yourself he’s turned the corner,” the ladies’ man said.
Jackson nodded and stood up. He felt Wilmington and Sanchez watching him and realized just how tired he was. The last five days saw him get very little sleep as he tried to rid the gunslinger of the raging fever and the real possibility that he was developing pneumonia. Now that the crisis seemed to have passed his body was protesting his neglect and he sank down onto the cot. His eyes closed, but snapped open as he felt the blanket pulled up over him.
“Thanks, Buck,” he mumbled as he dropped off to sleep.
“You’re welcome, Nate,” the scoundrel said as he turned back to the second bed. The blond was still pale, but his breathing didn’t seem as harsh and the beads of perspiration were no longer evident on his forehead. He watched as the ex-preacher closed his eyes and knew the older man was saying a prayer. He closed his eyes and said his own prayer of thanks before returning to the seat across from Sanchez.
It was nearly twenty-four hours later when Larabee’s eyes opened and focused on the man sitting beside the bed. Vin’s eyes were closed and his head was tilted to the side, soft sounds emanating from the partially open mouth. Chris shifted on the bed, trying not to wake the sleeping man as he reached for the glass on the table. His throat was sore and dry and he needed something to ease the arid feeling in his mouth. His fingers fumbled with the slippery surface and he swore as a small amount of the liquid spilled onto his trembling fingers.
“Let me help ya.”
Larabee accepted the help gratefully as the glass was placed in front of his mouth. He drank several sips and eased away from it as he met the tracker’s worried gaze.
“I’m okay, Vin,” he whispered.
“Ya sure as hell look better,” the sharpshooter agreed.
“Thanks...I think,” Larabee said, smiling thinly as he struggled to sit further up in the bed. He was grateful when the younger man helped him sit up. By the time he was leaning back against the pillows his breathing had a heavy wheeze to it once more.
“Shit, wish I didn’t feel so damn weak...”
“You’ll probably feel like that fer a while yet. Nathan says yer gonna need ta build up yer strength...” he was interrupted by the door of the clinic opening and Jackson stepping through the door. The healer had a heavily laden tray in his arms and he placed it on the table before checking on his patient.
“How are you feeling, Chris?”
“Tired...weak...”
“I’m afraid you’ll feel like that for some time yet. You’re gonna need to...”
“Build up my strength,” Larabee finished.
“That’s right,
but you’ll also need to take it easy. Your lungs are weak right now and you’ll
probably be short of breath...”
“Am now...”
“I can see that. Just lie back and concentrate on breathing. Take deep breaths if you can.”
“...okay....”
“I’ve got something for you to eat...”
“Don’t you mean drink?” Larabee asked as he looked disgustedly at the covered bowl on the tray.
“No, I mean eat. Inez made a stew that I think you’ll be able to handle. Think you can feed yourself or do...
“Nathan, you’d better not finish that question,” the blond said, his eyes belying the threat in his words.
“Okay,” the healer laughed. “Vin, put a couple of more pillows behind him and we’ll see if we can get the stubborn cuss to eat without spilling it all over himself.”
Chris accepted the help and was soon sitting up on the bed with a tray placed on his lap. He picked up his spoon with trembling hands and took the first sweet taste of the savory stew. He sighed contentedly as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the semi-solid meal.
“I’d say he’s enjoyin’ it. Wouldn’t ya say so, Nate?”
“From the look on his face I’d have to agree with you,” Jackson said as he watched the green eyes open again.
“It’s good,” Larabee said as he took another spoonful. By the time he’d finished half the bowl his energy level was nil and he was fighting to keep from having another coughing attack. He felt the tray removed as he lost the battle and was again held upright by his two friends. He didn’t feel them ease him back on the bed, or a warm cloth being wiped over his face. His eyes closed as he sank into a deep sleep, one where he didn’t have to fight to get air to enter his lungs.
“Nathan?” Tanner asked worriedly.
“He’s okay, Vin, just sleeping. He’ll probably have more of these before he’s done, but I think he’s over the worst of it. We need to let him sleep, eat, rest and keep him warm,” the healer explained. “Now I’ve got to go out to the Carter place and check on Joseph. Think you boys can keep him in that bed while I’m gone?”
The tracker smiled as he stood up and reached for the pot of coffee on the back of the stove.
“We can handle the stubborn cuss,” he said as he dumped three spoons of sugar into the strong coffee.
“Alright, you let the others know what he needs and I’ll be back sometime tomorrow.”
“Ya need some company?”
“To ride out to the Carter place? No, I think I can handle the boy,” Jackson said as he gathered up the items he needed and left the clinic.
New Years day dawned bright and clear for the people of Four Corners. The storm that ripped through the area during Christmas was in the past, the snow having melted with the heat of a newborn sun. The five peacekeepers still in town were in the clinic, whispering silently as they watched over the sleeping man. They were all relieved to see the blond recovering, and were surprised that he wasn’t arguing about staying in bed.
Jackson returned from the Carter farm shortly after noon and hurried to the clinic. He smiled as he saw the five men hovering over Chris Larabee. In the short time they’d known each other the group of seven had become more than friends, and for that he gave thanks once more.
“How’s he doing?” the healer asked as he dropped his coat over a chair and made his way to the bed.
“He’ll be do...doing fine if y...you’d let him out of b...bed,” Larabee wheezed through a throat ravaged by coughing and dryness.
“Ah, I knew it wouldn’t last long,” Jackson quipped.
“Sure it will, Nate,” Wilmington interrupted. “Ol’ Chris here is gonna stay in that bed until you say he can get up. Ain’t that right, Pard?”
“T...tired of lying h...here...”
“Chris, we had a deal...”
“Damn, Vin,” Larabee said, turning a weak glare on the tracker.
“Never thought you’d go back on your word, Stud,” the ladies man said, smiling as Larabee’s glare was turned in his direction.
“Not g....going back on m...my w....word...Still here aren’t I?”
“That you are, Son,” Sanchez said.
“Mr. Larabee, it looks like your word is as honorable as it always was,” Standish said.
Jackson listened to his patient’s lungs and placed the stethoscope back in his bag.
“How’s the Carter boy?” Dunne asked as Jackson felt Larabee’s forehead.
“He’s going to be fine. Kid’s up and around...”
“Already?” Dunne asked incredulously.
“Yep, his father made him a pair of crutches and he’s already moving around on them,” the healer answered.
“Shit, Nathan, the kid’s got a bro....broken leg and he’s up and around. Why t...the he...hell do I h...have to stay in b...bed?”
“Well, Chris, the kid didn’t go running off in the middle of the night when he was told to stay in bed and rest. The kid doesn’t have problems speaking because his lungs are weak and full of crud. The kid isn’t a stubborn....”
“Okay, I get t...the po...point,” Larabee hissed as the others tried to hide their laughter.
“The kid didn’t give his word...”
“Nathan!” Larabee folded his arms across his chest and glared at the former slave.
“Well, Chris, if you’d have listened in the first place...”
“I’m not go...going any...anywhere, Nathan,” the blond said, his voice sounded low and defeated as his overtaxed body protested the effort it took to speak.
“Well, now, I’m gonna have to figure out a way to make this work on all of you,” Jackson said as he watched the gunslinger settle under the blankets.
“Make what work, Nathan?” the young Bostonian asked.
“Whatever Buck and Vin used to make Chris so agreeable. It’d be a whole lot simpler if all I had to do was take care of you boys without having to chase you around to do it.”
“It’d also be pretty boring, Nathan,” the ladies man said with a grin.
“Sometimes boring is a good thing, Buck,” the healer said softly as Larabee’s breathing eased off and he fell back to sleep.
“We’ll try to remember that, Brother, maybe we could make it a New Years resolution,” Sanchez said.
“I’d rather you all made it a resolution not to get hurt,” the former slave said seriously.
“I for one shall endeavor to keep that resolution,” the gambler told them.
“I think we all will,” Tanner agreed.
“Well, I’m betting Inez is cooking up one hell of a meal and I think she just might need someone to sample her...”
“Buck!” Dunne said, blushing as he thought he knew what the ladies’ man was going to say.
“Sample her pies, JD...what the hell did you think I was going to say?” Wilmington asked, slapping the kid on the shoulder as he left the clinic. The others followed closely behind, leaving the healer and the tracker to watch over the still weak man.
“Vin, why don’t you go on down and join the others for dinner?” the healer asked.
“Nah, it’s okay, Nathan, you go on. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Chris.”
“Why d...don’t you b...both go eat? I’m not going any...where,” the blond assured them.
“Thought you were sleeping, Cowboy,” Tanner said as he met Larabee’s gaze.
“Not quite...go on...the two of y...you. I’ll stay w...where I am,” the gunslinger said. He didn’t miss the look that passed between his two friends and he knew they were unsure about leaving him alone.
“There’s no reason the two of you should miss dinner...”
“What if you need something?” Jackson asked.
“Leave my gun by the bed and if I need you that bad...ly I’ll shoot the d...damn win...dow out,” Larabee said with a grin.
“You sure ‘bout this, Chris?” the sharpshooter asked.
“Y...yeah, I’ll be fine. Just go on.”
“Alright, we’ll be back shortly,” the healer assured him.
“Don’t hurry. Take some time and enjoy yourselves. I...I’m ju...just gonna g...go back to sleep.”
“Back soon, Chris.”
“Thanks, Vin,” the blond said as he watched the two men leave. He lay back against the pillows and listened to the sounds of the celebration seeping through the closed windows. He knew he’d done the right thing by sending Vin and Nathan off with the others, yet he couldn’t help feeling a little let down that they’d gone, leaving alone on the first day of the new year. It reminded him too much of the dark days and months that followed the loss of his family. He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to overtake him, but in spite of his exhaustion sleep was illusive to him.
Chris remembered the night Adam was born and the love he’d felt inside him. A love that surpassed the boundaries of life and death and still had a stranglehold on his heart, and he prayed it would stay that way. He turned slightly on his side and gazed out the window at the bright blue sky overhead. He felt himself drifting and had no idea how much time passed when he heard a commotion on the landing outside the clinic. He forced his arms to hold his body up as the door opened and six men barged in.
“Hey, Stud, did you really think we’d leave you up here all alone?” Wilmington asked.
“Yeah, Chris we figured you’d need something to eat. Inez made this real special for you,” Dunne said.
Tanner eased his lean frame onto the chair next to the bed as Jackson set up the tray on Larabee’s lap. The tracker smiled as the gunslinger looked around the room, knowing they’d made the right decision to bring the New Year’s celebration to Larabee. The look on the blond’s face as he met each man’s gaze was one of rapture as he realized he wasn’t alone.
“Mr. Larabee, I do believe the meal would be most enjoyable if eaten while still hot,” the gambler told him as he lifted the fork and placed it in Larabee’s hand.
“T...thanks, Boys,” the gunmen said, his voice filled with gratitude as his six friends settled down with their own meals.
“Anytime, Cowboy,” Tanner answered for the others.
Sanchez said a few words of thanks before the men ate, and Chris felt better than he’d felt in a long time.
‘Home and family, that’s what life is about,’ Larabee thought as he dipped his fork in the mound of mashed potatoes and gravy.
The seven friends talked and joked through the rest of the day and long into the night. The recovering man drifted in and out of sleep, content in the knowledge that he wasn’t alone, and never would be again.
Larabee spent most of the following week in bed. He kept his word and stayed in the bed until Jackson finally grew tired of the blond’s seeming lack of fight. He knew the gunslinger was getting better, but he also missed the arguments that usually went with having one of his friends staying in the clinic.
Taking a deep breath he smiled at the still pale man. “Well, Chris, what do you say we get you out of that bed and back to your own room?”
“R...really,” the blond wheezed, excitement evident in his voice.
“Yeah, figure it’s time I got my own bed back. Now this doesn’t mean you can go off on your own. I want you staying close to town for at least another week and if you do want to go out to your place, make sure someone’s with you.”
“But...”
“I know you’re feeling better, Chris, but when we’re dealing with your lungs we need to be careful. You’re still weak and it’s gonna be a while yet before you’re completely healed. Now, if you’re gonna argue I guess I can sleep on that damn cot for a few more nights.”
“N...no. I’m not arguing,” the blond said as he sat up and slid his legs over the side of the bed.
“Didn’t think so. Okay, Vin and Buck will be here in a minute to take you to your room. If you need anything at all you know where I am.”
The blond swallowed painfully and nodded, knowing the one thing they could all count on was Nathan Jackson being there when they needed him. Sometimes the just forgot to let him know they knew and understood what it meant to have him as a friend and doctor.
By the time Chris was settled in his room, he again understood just what his illness had taken out of him. He trembled as he eased down on the bed and closed his eyes, drifting into a light sleep as he felt the blankets pulled up over him once more.
When next he opened his eyes the room was bathed in a light glow from the lamp on the table across the room. He could see Buck Wilmington staring at something in his hands and he frowned as he saw the evidence of moisture on the other man’s face.
“Buck, what’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, surprised when the ladies man tried to hide what he’d been holding onto so tightly.
“C...Chris,” the scoundrel stammered in surprise. He hid the carving behind the lamp and hurried over to his friend.
“What’s going on, Buck?” the gunslinger asked, his voice stronger as he looked at his friend.
“There’s nothin’ wrong,, Chris, I was just...”
“What were you hiding?”
Wilmington looked down at the floor and then over at the table before finally letting his gaze come to rest on his long time friend.
“I...Chris...I found...” his voice trailed off and he tried to find enough saliva to speak.
“Found what?” the blond asked as he turned his gaze towards the table and stood up.
“Just hang on a minute, Chris. Sit down!” Wilmington ordered.
“What is it, Buck?”
“Sit down and I’ll tell ya,” the scoundrel waited until his friend was seated beside him once more. “You remember the night Adam was born?”
Larabee felt a lump forming in his throat as the vivid memories returned, bringing with it not only warmth but also the painful loss he now bore.
“You think I could ever forget that, Buck!” he said it as a statement, not a question.
“No more than I could, Pard. You remember the carving you did?”
“Sarah and Adam in the bed,” the blond said, smiling as a new warmth spread through him. He didn’t need the other man to tell him what he’d been hiding. Chris stood up, walked to the table, and picked up the small carving.
“I found it...in the cave.”
“But...how? We looked everywhere for it,” the blond said as he sank onto the chair and stared in awe at the treasure he’d thought lost so long ago.
“Near’s I can figure out Adam must’ve hid it in that cave. You never did ask him where it was did you?”
“N...no. I didn’t want him to feel bad if he lost it,” the blond said as a tear dropped unbidden from his eye and landed on the two figures carved so long ago. The grief he’d kept inside him over the years burst like a dam and tears flowed freely from his eyes and down his face. His shoulders heaved as he held the carving close to his heart in an effort to feel their presence and suddenly realized they’d always be with him. No matter where he went, no matter what he did, his family was his heart and soul and he would never let that go. He felt Wilmington’s hand on his shoulder and looked up into the blue moisture laden eyes.
“Thank you, Buck,” he said simply, yet he knew his long time friend understood the meaning of those words. Their friendship had survived the trials that were put on it and now, because of five other men they were family once more. He looked at the carving in his hand and knew he’d make good on the promise to make six more carvings to join the three that hung on the tree between the two graves on his homestead. Vin rode out the day before and retrieved the memories of Christmas’s past, and they were once more safely packed away. Chris vowed from this moment on he’d ask six men to join him on the trip to place a Christmas tree between the two crosses. A symbol that he’d never been alone and never would be.
Chris looked towards the door as five men entered and smiled as he realized how much they meant to him. Home, friends, family, he’d found them again and vowed not to lose them this time.
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