Chris smiled as his chair was pushed through the main doors that led out into the flower garden and courtyard. The sun shone down on the multicoloured roses, marigolds, petunias and numerous flowers Chris could not name. The sweet scent of nature’s perfumes assaulted his senses and brought a smile to his face.
Jackson pushed the chair towards two empty park benches and eased Larabee to a stop between them. Vin sat on the bench to the right of his friend and the others immediately took up position around their injured friends.
“You okay, Vin?” Larabee asked of his pale friend.
“Yeah, I’m fine, Pard,” the tracker said as he watched the genuine joy on the blond’s face. He loved the outdoors and knew Larabee also held a passion for being outside. Both men loved nothing better than taking Pony and Peso and racing across their adjoining properties, letting the wind rush past them as the geldings’ strong legs ate up the ground underfoot. He knew instinctively the older man was thinking about the same thing and he smiled as he gripped his friend’s shoulder. “We’re gonna race...”
“Like the wind when we get home,” Larabee finished and returned the younger man’s smile.
“Hey, you guys want something to eat or drink?” Dunne asked.
“Water, JD,” Larabee answered, his stomach still queasy from moving from the bed to the chair.
“Coffee,” Jackson, Wilmington, and Standish said in unison.
“Code Red,” Tanner answered.
“Code Red?” Larabee asked.
“Yeah, Chris, Code Red. You know the new Mountain Dew drink?” the Bostonian asked disbelievingly.
“Oh shoot, next thing you’ll be drinking that Vanilla Coke or Cherry Pepsi,” Larabee answered.
“I have you know there is nothing wrong with Vanilla Coke, Mr. Larabee,” Standish blustered.
“Or Cherry Pepsi,” Sanchez said and was surprised as six pairs of eyes stared at him. “Well, a man does need to indulge in something a little off the wall!”
“Oh, hell, Josiah, they’ve corrupted you,” Wilmington laughed. “Get going, kid, before we have to head back inside.”
“Be right back,” Dunne said as he hurried towards the hospital.
“You really like Cherry Pepsi, Josiah?” Jackson asked.
“I do,” Sanchez grinned as he answered his long time friend. “Have you tried it?”
“No and I don’t think I want to,” the medic answered and turned back to Larabee. “How are you doing, Chris?”
“I’m okay, Nathan. It’s great to be out of there,” Larabee answered.
“I bet it is, Cowboy. Won’t be long more and you’ll be out of there for good and we’ll all head back home.”
Larabee was thoughtful for a few minutes before he turned to the men around him, before stopping on Sanchez. “When we leave here we have a stop to make, right, Josiah?”
“I think you’re right, Brother.”
“Four Corners,” Tanner said softly.
“Yeah, I think maybe we need to let some old relatives know everything’s all right and they can rest easy,” Larabee told them.
“Mr. Larabee, I would be remiss in not pointing out they probably already know,” Standish told him.
“No, Ez, I don’t think they do. I can still sense them around and I have a feeling there’s got to be a reason for it,” the blond said and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He winced as a stab of pain shot through his hip, but brushed off the concerns of his men. “I’m okay,” he assured them.
“It’s almost time to get you back inside, Chris.”
“Just a little longer Nathan,” Larabee pleaded softly as he soaked in the warm rays of the sun.
“Here comes JD,” Tanner told them as the kid hurried towards them with a tray of drinks.
“Five minutes, Chris.”
“Thanks, Nathan,” Larabee said and turned towards the thick brush opposite the park bench. He shivered as he saw movement, but wasn’t sure whether it was a soft breeze or someone watching them.
“You cold, Chris?” Wilmington asked.
“No,” Larabee answered a little too quickly. “I’m fine, Boys, just enjoying the fresh air.” He took the open bottle of Perrier and took a small sip from it before turning back to the brush. The movement had stopped and he put it down to the medications and his own exhaustion. He handed the bottle back to the easterner and pulled himself up in the chair. He knew things were getting worse and he turned pain filled eyes on the medic. “Think it’s time to go back, Nathan.”
“All right, Chris. Why don’t you push that button so the medication has a chance to work before we move you back into bed?”
Larabee nodded and depressed the button as the seven men headed back inside, unaware of the blond woman watching from behind the heaviest area of brush.
‘Enjoy your dinner, Larabee, it’s gonna make a lasting impression on you. As long as you last that is.’ Patrice laughed as she looked at the chef’s salad she held in her hand. She’d laced it with larkspur and a tingling feeling raced through her as she thought of the pain it would cause the hated man they’d just wheeled inside. She headed back inside and up to the waiting room on the forth floor. She knew the room would be the first one to receive dinner and she would be there to exchange the salad for the one on Larabee’s dinner tray.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The six friends returned Chris to his room where he was helped back into bed and slept blissfully through the rest of the afternoon. He opened his eyes as Mary brought in his tray and placed it on the table. She smiled at the ladies man, knowing he’d ensure the patient would eat.
“Chris, dinner’s here,” Wilmington said as he smiled at the still tired eyes.
“Dinner?” Larabee asked, confusion written on his face.
“Yeah, you know, the meal ya eat after lunch?”
“Shit, didn’t think I was that tired.”
“Damn, Chris, you’ll probably be tired like that for a while yet. Now why don’t we see what you have this evening?”
“Nah, I don’t want that. Bring me the rest of that sandwich. I think Mary put it in the fridge for me.”
“All right, Pard, but you eat that salad while I’m gone,” Wilmington said, knowing Larabee loved chef’s salad. “It’s even got your favorite Ranch dressing.”
Larabee lifted the fork in his left hand and slowly began eating. The taste of the dressing was heaven and he savored the fresh greens. By the time Buck returned with the remainder of the sandwich, his mouth was burning and he wondered what was so spicy in the simple salad. He dropped the fork on the table as he lay back against his pillow.
“Something wrong with the salad, Chris?” Wilmington asked.
“Yeah, I think these guys must put different spices in their salads. Damn, that’s hotter than the suicide sauce they serve on the ribs at Buck’s Bar and Grill,” Larabee told him.
“Hmm, maybe we should bottle it up,” the ladies man laughed. “You want me to get you some water?”
The blond nodded and frowned as his mouth continued to burn. “Thanks, B...Buck,” he said as he was handed a glass of ice water.
“Still want your sandwich?”
“Yeah,” Larabee said as he watched the ladies man open the Ziploc bag.
“There you go, Pard.”
“Thanks.” Chris picked up the sandwich and bit into it, groaning as pain erupted in his mouth.
“Hell, Chris, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Buck, just not as hungry as I thought.”
“Chris?”
“Can you ask Mary to put it back until later. I guess I really did overdo it today. Look I’m fine, Buck, just not in the mood to eat right now,” Larabee assured his friend.
“All right, Chris. What about the rest of the stuff on your tray?”
“Just the juice,” Larabee insisted and smiled as his friend put the sandwich back in the bag.
Buck watched as Larabee’s finger hit the button under his hand. He knew his friend was in more pain than he let on or he never would’ve taken the pain medication. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, Chris. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Thhhanksh, Buck, I thhhink I w...will,” the blond said as he turned slightly on his side.
Wilmington noticed the slurred words, but chalked it up to the medication, pain and exhaustion. He studied his friend’s slack features and knew he was sleeping. He settled back in the chair and turned on the TV, hoping Larabee’s sleep would be a restful one.
Half an hour later Mary came back into the room to collect the dinner tray. She frowned as she saw the barely touched meal and the sandwich laying next to the tray. “He didn’t eat very much,” she commented.
“No,” Wilmington said as he looked at the half eaten salad. “He didn’t seem to keen on the salad dressing, and said he was tired. He fell back to sleep right away.”
“Well, I’ll put in a call for the kitchen to send him up a fresh tray when he wakes up.” She checked the IV leading into her patient’s arm and made sure there was no swelling or problems with the site. She knew they’d be changing the location the following day in order to ensure the sites stayed healthy. Finally satisfied everything was running properly she picked up the tray and shook her head before leaving the room.
Buck picked up the magazine he’d been reading and relaxed in the chair once more. He re-read the same paragraph four times and finally gave up on it. He looked at his friend and wondered why he felt there was something wrong, something more than the obvious. He sighed and reached out to touch Larabee’s forehead just as a soft moan slipped past the closed lips.
Chris groaned as he moved his tongue in his mouth, aware of the thickness and burning sensation he had there. He felt a hand touch his forehead and forced his eyes open. He looked into concerned blue eyes and tried to smile, but any movement of his lips or mouth sent a ripple of pain and nausea cascading through his body. He knew he was going to be sick and was relieved when Wilmington seemed to read the warning in his eyes.
The ladies man quickly slipped the basin under Larabee’s mouth just as a thick stream of noxious vomit erupted from his throat. Buck held him up and massaged his back and shoulders until the vomiting subsided and he placed his friend back on the bed. He pressed the button to call one of the nurses before he picked up a cloth and slowly washed the sweat streaked face. He watched the chest rise and fall as the blond slowly brought his breathing under control.
“Easy, Chris, the nurse is on her way.”
“Christ, Bu...Buck...”
“I know, Pard. Thought you were well enough for that trip outside, but I guess we were wrong.”
“N...no, not the trip out....side...that was good...ne...needed it. So...something else,” he hissed as he felt more bile come up in his throat and burning the interior of his inflamed mouth.
Buck held him as Mary hurried into the room.
“What’s going on?” she asked as she noticed the dark haired man holding tightly to his friend. She helped Buck ease the trembling patient back on the bed and noticed the swollen lips and darting tongue.
“He just started puking all over the place,” Wilmington snapped. “Can’t you do something?” he asked as Larabee was again wracked by vomiting and pain.
“I’m going to have the desk page Dr. Barrett. Chris just try to relax for a few minutes,” Mary said as she buzzed the nursing station.
“O...okay...Shit!” he gasped as he felt the hot bile rising in his throat once more. “God, Buck, I f...feel like m...my mouth’s o...on fi...fire!”
Mary hurriedly told the desk what she wanted and turned back to the ill man. “Chris, open your mouth for me!” she ordered.
Larabee hissed as he tried to do as she asked, but again the burning and pain stopped him, and he tried to moisten his lips.
“Mary, what’s wrong with him?” Wilmington asked, concern written across his face.
“I’m not sure, Buck, but his mouth is inflamed...”
“Shit!” the ladies man swore. “What the hell’s causing that?”
“We won’t know until...” she didn’t finish as her patient again groaned and turned in search of the basin.
Wilmington placed it under the sick man’s mouth and watched as yellow fluid slid from his mouth. He reached for the cloth and again washed his friend’s face, before wrapping his arms around the shaking form. ‘Come on, Chris, I don’t think any of us can handle complications right now, especially you,’ he thought sadly as he watched the heaving chest and the tears slipping from the closed eyes.
“How long before the doctor gets here?” the ladies man asked worriedly.
“He should be here shortly, Mr. Wilmington,” Mary said as she took a stethoscope and listened to her patient’s lungs.
Larabee listened to the two people talking, but could not speak past the pain in his mouth. Each movement of his tongue or lips seemed to set off a new round of nausea and he felt exhausted. Chris was glad of the strong hands of his long time friend, holding him, soothing him, but nothing seemed to help rid his body of the sickness invading him.
“I got you, Pard,” the ladies man whispered as he continued to hold the blond. “Not gonna let you go,” he looked up as the door opened and Barrett rushed into the room. “Thank, God! Doc, do something!”
“I’m going to, Buck. Could you move away from the bed?”
Larabee’s left hand clenched around Wilmington’s right arm. “N...no...Buck...St...stay...” he hissed as the agony in his stomach grew to encompass his still healing ribs and chest. “G...God!”
“Doc!” Wilmington said as he kept his hands on his friend’s body.
“Chris, I need to take a look at you!” Barrett said authoritatively. “That means Buck has to lay you back on the bed!”
“D...don’t go!” His voice sounded weak to his own ears, but at that moment Chris Larabee didn’t give a damn. He needed the touch, to know he wasn’t alone, that someone was there to watch his back.
“He doesn’t have to go, Chris! He can stay right beside you,” Barrett assured his patient, knowing Larabee had already been through hell alone and was in need of a friendly face during this new problem. “I just need to see what’s going on, okay?”
“G...guess so,” Larabee moaned as Wilmington reluctantly placed him back on the pillow.
Larabee tried to curl into a ball as his body was hit with another spasm of stomach cramps and pain. “Jesus!”
“Doctor, you should take a look at his mouth as well,” Mary suggested as the physician examined his patient’s abdomen.
Barrett checked the sick man’s mouth and throat and continued to tell him what he was doing. He looked at the nurse and asked. “When did this start?”
“I’m not sure, Doctor. Mr. Wilmington buzzed the station soon after we collected the dinner trays.”
“Buck, what did he eat?”
“Ch...Christ,” the blond writhed on the bed in agony as his friend reached out to touch his shoulder.
“Just part of a chef’s salad at dinner.”
“Anything else during the day?” Barrett asked as he continued his examination of the patient.
“Yeah, he had a turkey sandwich from the deli across the street, but he only ate half of it.”
“Nothing spicy...”
“He was complaining about the sauce on the chef’s salad. Said it was really spicy,” Wilmington explained.
“Spicy?” He turned to the nurse. “I want blood samples and I want a swab of his mouth and throat as well,” he ordered and watched as the nurse hurried to get the items she needed. He returned his attention to the ladies man and asked. “What kind of dressing”
“It looked like a regular ranch dressing,” the ladies man answered.
“Easy, Chris,” Barrett said as the two men turned the injured man on his side as his stomach rebelled once more. They eased him back on the bed and saw the misery written across the pale face. The bruises that had dominated the handsome features were now just a dull yellow, mingled with pale green and would probably disappear in a day or so.
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