"Chris? Chris?""Easy Vin," Nathan soothed, coming quickly to the injured man's bedside.
"Just stay still and rest."
"Where's Chris?" Vin insisted weakly. "Wanna talk to him."
"He's....outside, I asked him to get you some fresh water," Nathan lied. There was no way for him to explain to Vin that Chris had made himself scarce ever since he'd regained consciousness. It had been two days since the two were rescued from Ella and her brother, and one day since Vin had woken up, and was aware of his surroundings. Prior to that, he had tossed and turned fitfully in a delirium, Chris ever at his side, bathing his face with cool water, clutching at his hand, long into the night. And now that Vin was awake enough to see and talk to the gunslinger, he was nowhere to be seen.
The healer shook his head. It was a sorry situation. He'd seen men do a lot of strange things in his thirty-two years, but this one took the cake. The gunslinger had hovered at the edge of the circle of seven men, a mere ghost of himself. Always asking about Vin, doing anything to help, but never setting foot inside his own dwelling unless practically forced to by Nathan. And even on the rare occasions when he was in the house, he steered well clear of Vin. Any other time, Nathan would have had to pry him from Vin's side, threatening him with physical violence to get the man to eat and rest. What happened out there Chris? What's goin' on between you and Vin that you aren't tellin' any of us?
Nathan looked back at Vin, laying quietly on the bed, and found himself unable to meet the tracker's questioning blue eyes.
"He don't wanna see me, does he Nathan?" Vin breathed out faintly.
"'Course he does Vin," Nathan said, sharper than he'd meant to, as if he could convince both Vin and himself of the truth of his statement, if he said it forcefully enough.
"Yeah, sure," Vin said sarcastically, turning his face away from the healer.
"Vin, get some rest, you hear? Josiah's gonna be back soon with the wagon and we're gonna get you back to town. I can treat you better back at the clinic."
"Sure doc, sure," Vin said caustically, closing his eyes. 'It was all a lie, just like he had told Ella. He don't care about me, never did. Just got lonely. Could have gone to one of them saloon whores, but I was right there, and a lot cheaper, too,' he thought bitterly. 'Hell, maybe I should send him a bill.'
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It was three days later when Chris rode into town. It had killed him but he'd stayed at the ranch since the others had brought Vin back to town. Overwhelmed by guilt about the tracker's injuries, he'd wanted to keep as much distance between Vin and himself. He loved Vin too much to risk the younger man's life again. It had happened to Sarah and Adam, and now Vin had been hurt because of him. He could never bring Sarah or Adam back, but he had a chance to make things right with Vin. He'd keep the tracker safe, by keeping well away from him. That way, no one else could ever try to get to him by hurting someone he loved. And he loved Vin, so much. He was still amazed that he would have such deep feelings for another man, and in such a short time. But there they were, slapping him in the face, like that first cold handful of water from the wash basin every morning when he washed up. Or like the sharp silence that filled his shack, hanging heavy in the air, taunting him, reminding him of what could have been, if only Ella Gaines hadn't found her way back into his life and ruined everything he could ever have hoped for with Vin.
But finally, the worry had gotten the better of him. Vin had been back in town for three days, and he thought he would go mad if he had to wait another moment longer to hear a report on the tracker's condition. He had to know how Vin was. Even if he couldn't allow himself the pleasure of seeing his former lover, he would still at least know that he was all right.
His heart in his throat, he stopped Valor at the hitching post in front of Nathan's clinic and ran up the stairs. He paused outside the door, fighting against the overpowering urge to burst in. He wanted to see Vin so badly. To touch his hair, feel those sweet, soft lips against his. He closed his eyes against the harsh glare of the sun, as he pictured the younger man's face. God, how he had missed it these past few days. The ache of longing for the quiet tracker was so intense, it threatened to drive him to his knees as he swayed, then caught himself on the doorjamb. As he recovered himself, the
door creaked open, revealing Nathan's startled face.
"How's he doin' Nathan?" Chris asked worriedly, as Nathan stepped out of his clinic.
"'Bout the same Chris. Ribs are healin' up fine, knife wounds are closin' up good, but that fever's still hangin' on and he drifts in and out sometimes. Keeps callin' out for ya, too. Why don't you go on in and see him? Might make him rest a little easier."
Chris uncharacteristically shrank back against the roughened wood of the doorway. "No, Nathan, I can't do that. It's better if I stay away from him. I shouldn't even be here."
The healer exhaled loudly. "That doesn't make any sense, Chris. It isn't better if you stay away. Vin's upset 'cause you're not here. He's havin' fever dreams 'bout you and Ella."
The gunslinger closed his eyes, momentarily faltering, once again. Then he straightened up, looking more like himself and headed for the stairs.
"Chris, wait! Sit with Vin for a minute, please!" he pleaded.
Chris looked back at him from the bottom of the stairs. "Can't do that Nathan. It's better this way," he called out quietly, then hurried away toward the saloon.
"Yeah, but better for who?" Nathan muttered bitterly as he walked back into the clinic.
"What was that all about?" Buck asked, lifting his head from where he had been lightly dozing at Vin's bedside.
"Chris," the healer answered shortly.
"'Bout time he showed up!" Buck said. "Where the hell is he?"
"Wouldn't come in, just asked about Vin, then headed off to the saloon."
"Son-of-a-bitch!" Buck cursed. "What in tarnation's wrong with him? Most times we can't pull him away from Vin when he's hurt. Now he won't even look in on him. I don't know about you Nathan, but this has got to stop."
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Buck made it to the saloon in a dozen long-legged strides and pounded through the bat-wing doors. He spied Chris, huddled over a bottle at the table in the very back of the bar.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doin' Larabee?" he demanded in a rage.
Chris stared up at him with a steely glance over his hat brim. "What's it look like I'm doin'?' he hissed back.
"Takin' the coward's way out," Buck retorted.
"Gonna forget you said that Buck," Chris intoned, downing another shot from the half full bottle.
"Don't do me any favors, pard," Buck shot back sarcastically, as he turned away in disgust. He started walking out of the saloon, then thought better of it. He spun around and walked back to the gunslinger, leaning down with his hands spread out on top of the table, fixing Chris with a cool, defiant stare. His voice was low and hard as he berated his oldest friend.
"You go on and get good and drunk, Chris. Maybe it'll make you forget that someone's layin' up at Nathan's, hurtin' and confused, wonderin' where the hell you are and why you haven't come to see him. And I hope for his sake, he figures out soon that he's better off without you. You're a stupid, selfish bastard, you know that Chris?" He turned and strode out of the saloon, without a look back.
Chris lowered his head again, poured himself another drink and downed it in a single gulp. Then he got up, taking the bottle with him, and left the saloon.
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A gentle hand pressed the cool, moist cloth against his fevered skin, stirring him from his light slumber. He sighed slightly at the pleasant sensation, as it dipped lower, now working on his chest, wiping away the sweat. The movement stopped, and then he heard the sound of the cloth being wrung out, then it was placed back onto his forehead, ever so gently. He prayed that it was Chris, so tenderly ministering him, but afraid to open to eyes, to face disappointment in case it wasn't his longed for lover. He laid like that, awake, but eyes closed, for so long that the man attending to him thought he was asleep, and he stood up to stretch his aching, cramped back muscles. 'Think I'll get a little fresh air,' he thought to himself. And then a small sound stopped him in his tracks.
"Chris?" Vin said softly, unable to keep the pleading tone out of the single word.
The tall man turned and looked down at the bed sorrowfully. "No, sorry Vin, it's me, Buck."
"Oh." The former bounty hunter said with undisguised regret. Blue eyes sprang open, then narrowed with pain. 'Or was it heart ache?' the mustached man wondered sadly.
"You hurtin' Vin? Need me to get Nathan?"
"No, no, Buck. It's all right," Vin replied quietly. "I don't need Nathan."
"What do you need Vin?"
The sharpshooter skewed his eyes up at Buck, flaring with surprise. "Whatta ya mean by that Buck?" he asked suspiciously.
"Just what I said Vin."
"Don't need nothin'," he responded stubbornly.
"Well, hell, now there's two of ya actin' like jack-asses!" the larger man exclaimed irritably.
"Only one I see actin' like a jack-ass around here is you!" Vin growled back. "Just leave me alone Buck," he said, dismissing the man as he rolled over.
"Can't do that Vin," Buck answered, shaking his head. "Left things alone long enough as it is." He patted Vin affectionately on the shoulder. "I'm gonna go talk to Nathan. Get some rest , pard, I'll see ya in a little while."
"Yeah, sure, Buck, whatever," Vin mumbled unhappily
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"Nathan! Nathan!" Buck shouted, rushing to catch up with the healer as he left the boardinghouse's restaurant.
"What's wrong Buck!" Nathan asked worriedly. "Something happen with Vin?"
"Calm down doc," Buck reassured. "It ain't that exactly, but there is something goin' on with Vin, and Chris, and I think I know what to do about it." He steered him toward the saloon. "Have a drink with me pard, I wanna talk to you about somethin'."
"You buyin'?" Nathan asked, eyeing the taller man suspiciously.
"Yep, I'm buyin. Now c'mon!"
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"You wanna do what?" Nathan exclaimed in disbelief.
The two men were in the same isolated corner table, used by Chris Larabee earlier in the day, away from any prying ears in the sparsely populated saloon.
"I wanna take Vin out to Chris's, in a wagon. You heard me," Buck repeated.
"Why?" Nathan challenged.
"'Cause he'll get better a lot faster this way," Buck explained.
Nathan shook his head. "Don't see how Buck, doesn't make any sense to me," he protested. "I can take care of him just fine at the clinic."
Buck sighed. This was going to be harder than he thought. 'Why was everybody being so stubborn?'
"Nathan, does anything about this whole situation make any sense?" he persisted.
"Sure doesn't," the healer agreed.
"Then listen to me," Buck urged. "Chris has been actin' strange, stayin' away from Vin, right?"
The healer nodded in confirmation.
"And Vin's been mopin' around, right?"
Nathan nodded once again.
"Can't be good for Vin to be feelin' like that, can it doc? He ain't eatin', fever won't come down, and he's feelin' so low, who knows how long it'll take him to pull out of it. Ain't that right, Nathan?"
Recognition dawned in the healer's eyes. "So you think takin' Vin to Chris's is gonna help, that it?"
"Yep, that's it!" Buck declared happily. "Josiah told me a story once. 'Bout a man havin' a mountain brought to him, 'cause he wouldn't go to it. Figure takin' Vin to Chris's has gotta be easier than movin' an entire mountain," he said gleefully.
"Yeah, but you forgot how stubborn Chris and Vin can be, when they want to," Nathan reminded.
"Thought maybe a little dose of laudanum would help things along doc," Buck said, clapping Nathan on the back conspiratorially.
"Just might at that, Buck," Nathan said, a smile widening across his features. "How long you think he'll be stayin' there?"
"Long as it takes, Nathan," Buck replied.
"Long as what takes?"
"You'll see," Buck answered mysteriously. "C'mon, let's go see about a wagon."
"Okay, and I'll pack up some medicine for Vin. You gonna stop at his wagon and get some of his things?"
"Good idea, Nate. I'll meet you back at the clinic."