Fic: Tracker (Mag7, Chris/Vin, R) (Part 1 of 2)
Title: Tracker
Fandom: Magnificent Seven (OW, Chris/Vin, Nathan, Josiah)
Rating: R, FRM
Word Count: about 13,500
Summary: Vin takes on a tracking job that goes tragically wrong.
A Note in Warning: The book Josiah reads from is "The Practice of Surgery", by Samuel Cooper, with notes by Dr. Alexander H. Stevens. This book served as the "How To" guide for Civil War surgeons. The story has graphic descriptions of medical procedures.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Catyah for miles of encouragement. Big squeezy hugs to sassyinkpen and spikedluv for the betas. :D
Chris sat in the shade outside the jailhouse, reading. The day was hot, but the breeze, faint as it was, made outside a hair more pleasant than the stifling heat inside. He wasn't paying a lot of thought to his book, it was as familiar and comfortable as an old boot, but it kept folks in town from talking to him unless they had important business.
The sound of horses attracted his attention immediately, and he smiled to see Vin and Ezra returning from their patrol. Apparently all was quiet with the outlying farms; they were walking in with no particular urgency. The day was too hot even for troublemakers, Chris reckoned.
Ezra dismounted and led his horse around toward the livery. Vin tipped his hat to him, exchanging a word and a smile, and dismounted in front of the saloon. He had the look of a man who wanted a beer to wash the trail dust out of his mouth, and Chris was inclined to join him. Turning back to his book, Chris pretended to read for a bit, stretching his legs out comfortably in front of him, more relaxed than he had been. He'd stay on reading until Vin was inside, seated, before joining him. It wasn't exactly that he'd been waiting for Vin to get back, after all. Just that he'd be pleased to have a beer with him, maybe some supper or cards.
Chris had barely read a paragraph or two when he heard a commotion from down the street. Looking up he saw one of the town's newest residents, Mrs. Greenlaw, a small birdlike woman from Boston, running along the street shouting, "Mr. Standish, Mr. Standish. Did you see my Abel? He ran away and I was hoping you saw him when you were out riding."
Ezra stopped in the street and turned to look at Vin.
Vin shook his head, and said, "He was on foot?" Without looking at him, she nodded. "No, ma'am. We didn't see nobody on foot. Couple of folks on horseback a ways off, but that was it."
Chris stood, grabbing his duster off the back of his chair with a sigh.
She put her hand on Ezra's arm, thin fingers holding his coat tight, "You've got to help us, please, Mr. Standish. Find him and bring him home." Her voice was shrill and her words tumbled out in a panicked rush. "Mrs. Travis says that you and your friends help people around here. Please find Abel."
Chris ambled over, waiting to see how things would develop.
Ezra patted dust off his jacket and said, "From what I've observed, madam, Abel is an intelligent young man. The desert is inhospitable and unpleasant. He'll have sense enough return to the comforts of home soon."
Hands wringing, quivering in her anxiety, Mrs. Greenlaw said, "He'll get lost in that desert, I'm certain of it. Maybe he'll get taken by Indians. Or attacked by a cougar."
Chris shook his head. Their fear of the new land they'd chosen had him positive that the Greenlaws'd be leaving by winter, whether their shop prospered or not. Jacob Greenlaw seemed to have a bare hint of the toughness of spirit needed to learn to live in the desert, and if he said stay, his wife and teenage son would have little choice but to do so. But Chris didn't figure that was going to happen.
Ezra turned to look at Vin again, passing the question along. Vin shook his head and said, "That don't seem real likely, ma'am. Ain't no cougars right round here. And the local Indians wouldn't take a boy. Not for no reason."
Without appearing to have heard Vin, Mrs. Greenlaw clutched Ezra's arm again. "Please, please, bring my son back."
Chris walked more quickly, irritated at her continual dismissal of Vin. He understood it, to an extent. The Greenlaws had made no effort to hide the fact that they weren't sure how to relate to Vin. When they addressed him at all it was as a child or servant.
"Ma'am," Ezra said, eyes flicking gratefully to Chris as he approached. "I am afraid that I'm not the person best suited to this task. My colleague, Mr. Tanner," he gestured to Vin, "is a tracker and knows this desert better than anyone in the Arizona Territory." Vin tightened his lips in disagreement but said nothing. "He is the best man to seek your son." He slipped his arm out of her grasp, tipped his hat to her, and led his horse toward the livery.
Chris slid into place next to Vin as Mrs. Greenlaw finally, reluctantly turned to acknowledge him. There could hardly be a sharper contrast between Vin, in his hide coat and plain shirt, long hair waving in the slight breeze, and Mrs. Greenlaw, dainty and proper in her blue lawn dress with her black hair pulled into a tight bun. When she saw Chris, Mrs. Greenlaw turned to him instead, obviously glad to have someone other than Vin to talk to. "Mr. Larabee. I was hoping some of your men could go find my Abel."
"I heard," Chris said, holding to his patience. "Ezra's right, Vin's best for the job." He turned to Vin, who nodded, apparently just as grateful as Mrs. Greenlaw for the buffer between them.
"I might could find him." Chris smiled at the self deprecating words, but said nothing. "When'd he leave?" Vin asked, addressing the woman in front of him.
For a moment Chris thought that Mrs. Greenlaw wouldn't answer the direct question, but she finally said, "He and my husband got into a row just before lunch and Abel ran off. Three hours ago, perhaps."
"Which direction?" Vin asked.
Mrs. Greenlaw, her handkerchief fluttering in the faint breeze, pointed down the street opposite the way Ezra and Vin had just arrived from, which explained why Vin hadn't seen him.
That was apparently as much attention as Mrs. Greenlaw was willing to give Vin because she then turned to Chris. "Please, Mr. Larabee, please won't you go?"
Chris caught Vin's eye, and saw a hint of irritation there along with a whole lot of welcome. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Greenlaw, said, "Yes, ma'am," and turned toward the livery to collect Pony. If he couldn't have a beer with Vin, at least he could spend some time with him. That would be worth the discomfort of a ride in this heat.
Behind him, Vin said, "We'll set out in just a minute, ma'am."
When Chris got back out to the street with his horse, Mrs. Greenlaw was watching Vin from the safety of the General Store's window. Vin sat on Peso taking a swig from his canteen.
As Chris mounted, he said, "You could have gotten a beer while you were waiting for me."
Vin shook his head. "Thought to, but she," he flicked a glance at the woman in the window, "squawked like I'd hit her when I walked toward the saloon. Figured I'd be better off waiting."
***
Four hours later, Chris waited as patiently as he could, and watched Vin work. Every few steps Vin would hunker down, sometimes he'd touch or trace something on the ground, something Chris could barely see. Other times he'd lean right over and lay his cheek on the grass. Then he'd mount again and they'd ride twenty or thirty feet before he dismounted once more.
It was frustratingly slow work and he didn't understand how Vin could stand it. He felt an urge to spur Pony into a gallop and ride out across the desert toward the mountains, apparently the direction Abel Greenlaw was headed, and catch the boy up. Peso was frustrated too and kept nudging and distracting Vin.
At least now they were making progress again. He'd been about out of his mind when Vin lost the trail at a series of flat rocks and they went around them in circles for an hour, spiraling slowly outward, until he picked up a track he was certain belonged to the boy. Vin was silent the whole time, staring at the ground as he led Peso in slow circles. Chris thought about suggesting they just pick a direction and go in it, in hopes of catching Abel, but one look at Vin's face, square jaw set, settled him back to waiting.
Now, their shadows were starting to lengthen behind them. "Vin, it's getting late. Do you know where he's headed?"
"I might could tell you if he knew hisself," Vin said, looking up at him, dusty face streaked with sweat. "Every few paces he sees something new and thinks to run that way for a spell. His track's as crooked as a drunk's. Worse. At least a drunk usually knows where he's going."
"Greenhorns," Chris said, without malice. "They shouldn't let folks further west than Chicago if they don't know how to stay alive out here."
Vin ignored him, fingering something in the grass. Broken twig maybe. Peso stomped and knocked Vin's hat off. Vin pushed the horse away by the nose and retrieved the hat from the ground.
Chris grunted and settled back. Vin lowered his head and looked right along the top of the grass toward the setting sun. The golden sunlight found sparks in his hair, gilded the edge of his cheekbone. Chris's eyes tracked the strong line of Vin's jaw, softened by the glitter of beard stubble, followed the line of his shoulder and back, strong and capable.
Two steps later, Vin was squatting, staring intently at the grass. Peso nudged Vin hard in the back, tipping off his hat again and knocking him off balance.
Vin pushed the horse away as he swore, "Goddamned mule, you near made me wreck the track," then held Peso's reins up and back in a silent request. Chris was nudging Pony gently forward so he could reach them even before Vin said, "Hold him for me, cowboy. If you happen to shoot him on accident, I won't mind a bit."
Chris snorted as he took the reins. If he hurt a hair on Peso's hide, Vin'd be likely to shoot him. Man and horse were both ornery and stubborn as hell, but they were a pair. Without question.
Pony was straining at the bit, pulling toward a clump of grass a foot or so ahead of Vin. Chris held him in, much to the horse's disgust. Chris had already been snapped at for blocking the light and he didn't much like the idea of facing Vin if he or the horse damaged some mark or sign he couldn't even guess was there.
He was caught up in holding Pony back, both hands on the reins, Peso's reins looped over his saddle horn, when Vin stood up suddenly with a soft curse. "He got bit by a snake, Chris. Took off in a blind panic." Vin pointed toward the south, the direction of Purgatorio, gateway to the harsh lands of Mexico. "He's headed south. Running."
Chris scowled and asked, "Rattler?" He hoped that Vin would recognize the snake from something, the way the grass bent under it maybe, or the shape of the track it left. Hoped there was something that would reassure him that it was just a rat snake.
Vin dashed his fragile hopes, saying, "No way to tell in this grass 'less I find the snake. Ain't worth the effort. He should be easy to catch now."
Chris nodded and handed Peso's reins over to Vin. Pony seemed to sense that something was coming because he'd lost his fidgety restlessness and was now poised, waiting for a command. "Let's go get him then," Chris said. If Abel'd been bitten by a rattler, running was about the worst thing he could be doing. No sense offering to go back for Nathan. With the lead he had, the boy might well be dead already.
When Vin was seated on Peso, Chris spurred Pony into a lope. Peso fell in next to him, Vin sitting high in the saddle scanning the horizon for any sign of the boy. But there was nothing but rocks and grass, both burned to the same dun shade by the blazing desert sun, and sparsely scattered trees. The trees were thin enough that their shade hardly seemed worth the effort of getting to it.
After a minute, Chris spotted something near one of the rocks, a hint of movement. While he was still looking to see if the smudge of shadow could possibly be Abel, Vin said, "Got him," and spurred Peso into a gallop, taking off at a different angle. Without a question, Chris followed him.
Abel was crumpled in the dappled shade of a tree three-quarters of a mile on. Chris didn't see him until they were a third of the way there, but he never doubted that Vin was right about where the boy was. Never doubted that Vin would find him.
Now if only he was okay.
Abel was hunched on the ground, a pool of vomit in front of him, his hair wet with sweat. He was curled into a ball, breathing labored. Chris stroked his forehead, brushing back the curls that stuck to his cheek. The kid was burning up, but that could be heat stroke as much as snake bite. "Which leg?" he asked.
Vin appeared on the other side of the boy. "Left. Reckon just above the ankle."
Chris nodded and rested his hand gently on Abel's calf. At the barest touch, the boy screamed in agony. The scream died away in a keen of pain like an injured animal, and then fell silent. Damn. "Got to get these pants off."
Vin nodded. "Yep," he said, handing Chris his knife. The thin city fabric gave way easily under the heavy knife. Abel's leg was black, blistered and stark white near the bite, with angry red streaks running way up past his knee. Vin muttered a curse. "He ain't wearin' boots? Those shoes wouldn't stop a scorpion, Chris. Why'd his folks let him go out like this?"
"They don't know any better," Chris said, feeling more sympathy than anger for Abel and his parents. Chris applied himself to cutting off the leather shoe. The Greenlaws still hadn't settled into their home behind the new mercantile, still hadn't opened their new shop, and they stood fair to lose their boy. Chris shook his head.
The touch of the knife on the leather caused Abel to whimper and Chris steeled himself to the pain he was causing, but didn't stop his work. That shoe needed to come off. Abel heaved and puked again, blood mixed with yellow bile. Vin moved the boy's head away from the mess, leaving a bloody streak on the grass.
While Chris finished cutting off Abel's shoe, Vin used his bandanna and a strip of cloth to bandage the bite, which was bleeding and blistered. Vin shook his head. "With all that running he did, there ain't no point in a tourniquet. The poison's all through him now." He looked again at the leg. "He's gonna lose that leg, ain't he?" His voice was sad and heavy.
Chris didn't answer, though he knew Vin was right. Once the shoe was off the swollen foot, Chris turned to Vin. "How long back to town?"
"An hour, maybe a bit more. That's flat out. With him riding double, least two and half." Vin stroked the pale cheek. "One of us could go get Nathan and bring him back, but he don't have that much time Chris, you know that," Vin said.
Chris nodded, but just said, "Is there a farm that'd be a closer ride?"
Vin thought for a second, and Chris imagined him studying a map in his head. A map that showed every tree, every hill, every farm and house, in the Arizona Territory. "Stokely place. You know it?"
Chris thought for a minute, then nodded, "Near the big old oak tree at the entrance to Baker Pass."
"That's it. Even with him it shouldn't be all of two hours. Miz Stokely's real nice. I reckon his ma and pa would rather you tended to Abel. I'll meet you there with Nathan," Vin said. Chris felt a spike of anger at the thought that Vin was undoubtedly right, but said nothing. Vin led Pony close, holding him while Chris mounted.
Between them they got Abel situated as best they could, slung across the saddle with only slightly more grace than a sack of feed. He was unconscious and silent except for the hard breathing and didn't respond to anything they did. Not even when they knew it had to hurt.
As soon as Chris and Abel were settled Vin mounted Peso. He paused for a second then said, "Nathan and me'll be waiting for you at the Stokely farm. Take care of him." His face was shadowed by the sunset behind him and Chris couldn't make out his expression, but his voice was strained.
Before Chris could say anything, Vin clapped spurs to Peso's sides and flipped the reins, taking off at a ferocious gallop.
Chris adjusted the limp weight of the boy, surprised at it. Abel had more meat on him than Chris expected, and Chris had to remind himself that he wasn't that much younger than JD'd been when he came to Four Corners. Just a whole hell of a lot greener. He shook his head at the thought, and nudged Pony into a hard trot.
The first half of that ride was a nightmare of heat and sweat, vomit and blood and a hellish red sunset, the likes of which Chris'd never seen. Abel roused enough that he whimpered with every step the horse took, blood leaking from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Every so often he'd heave and puke bile and blood all over himself and Chris. When he started struggling to get away from the pain, Chris slowed Pony into a walk. Just for a short spell, because the kindness of sparing the boy pain might very well kill him if he didn't get him to Nathan soon.
When Abel settled and relaxed just a bit, the worst edge of hard tension leaving his muscles, Chris pushed Pony a little faster, trying to make up the time they lost. They proceeded like that for an hour or more, until the sunset had faded into nothing more than a hint of light on the western horizon. Abel's struggles became weaker as time passed, until he just had the strength to whine pitifully.
When even that strength left him, Chris resisted the temptation to stop and check on the boy, he could tell everything he needed from the thudding fast heartbeat and painful breathing. Chris reckoned that he was still at least an hour away from the Stokely place. He eased Pony into a lope, hoping he could maintain that pace all the way.
Hoping he could still get there in time.
****
When he finally arrived at the Stokely farm, it was near full dark. Vin, looking a little uncomfortable on JD's dainty bay, Dancer, met him about half a mile out from the farm.
"I was starting to think you got lost or something," Vin said, voice tight.
"Abel couldn't take much hard riding. When he finally passed out we could move faster. He's a tough kid." Vin nodded, mouth as tight as his voice had been. "Nathan here?"
"Yep, and Josiah. Mrs. Stokely's given over her bed for the boy. Everything's ready for him. JD's wired to Eagle Bend and Bitter Creek in case they have a doctor." He looked at the boy, slumped in Chris's arms. "He okay?"
Chris shook his head. "No. But we'll do all we can for him." He rested his hand on the boy's forehead, even though he could feel the fever right through his clothes. As long as he was still hot he was still alive. That was something at least. "Did you tell his folks?"
Vin looked away. "Yeah. His ma's waiting at the Stokelys. I told 'em he was bit bad, but I don't think they know what to expect."
"I doubt anyone would," Chris said, the grimness in his heart coloring his voice. They rode the last bit of the way in silence.
Mrs. Greenlaw ran forward as soon as Chris reined Pony to a stop, crowding Chris and the boy, but too distraught to offer useful help. Mrs. Stokely stepped forward and shooed her back gently, saying, "Let the men help Abel, now, Ruth. You'll get to see him soon enough."
Mrs. Greenlaw allowed herself to be led away, her eyes, dark and filled with anguish, never leaving Abel. Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks, reflecting the lamplight.
Her place at Pony's side was taken by Nathan, who took Abel from Chris's hold. As soon as he and Vin carried Abel into the lights from the door, Nathan made a soft noise of dismay. He shook his head. "I don't know..." He turned to Josiah, standing in the doorway, "Josiah, dish up some of that willow bark tea. And start the snakeroot boiling." Josiah nodded and retreated inside without a word.
Chris stopped on the porch to slip off his duster, stained and stinking, before he went inside. The ladies didn't need to be seeing that. He sure as hell didn't need to be smelling it any longer.
When he got inside, Nathan was removing Abel's stained shirt and coat while Vin cut his trousers and drawers off. The uninjured leg was pale and strong, with almost the full growth of manhood. The contrast with the bit leg, swollen and black, shot with streaks of stark white and blazing red, was shocking.
After they had the boy settled, Nathan set himself to cleaning the wound with carbolic, trying to see the extent of the damage. The first touch of the carbolic on the wound drew a flinch and a whimper from Abel, but that was all. Nathan made another soft noise and Chris saw that his hands were shaking.
Josiah tried to coax some of the willow bark tea past the slack, bloodstained lips. "You need to drink this, son," he said, but there was no response. His voice fell to an inaudible mumble of prayer.
Through all this, Vin stood at the foot of the bed, looking lost in a way that Chris had never seen before. One of the things Chris most admired in Vin, most loved to be near and take strength from, was the sense of place he felt from Vin. Vin always knew where he was, not just on that mental map of his, but in a strange solidity no one else seemed to share. Vin traveled lightly and moved easily, Chris knew that, but he always carried the peace of being where he ought to be, no matter where that was. But now he looked completely lost, as out of place as he would at a fancy New York City ball.
Vin pushed his hat back and ran shaking fingers through his hair, then said in a mumble Chris could barely hear, "I'll tend to the horses."
As Vin walked by, Chris wanted to offer him some sort of support, but Vin didn't stop until he got to the door of the room. At the door, he looked back over his shoulder at Abel for just a moment, then faded away into the darker living room.
Chris rolled up his shirt sleeves and stepped close to Nathan, who looked up at him, face drawn. "That leg's got to come off, Chris."
Chris nodded even as his heart ached for the boy and his family. It was a hard life being a cripple, especially out here where there was always more work to be done than daylight hours to do it in. "We figured that when we saw the bite," he said, softly. "I'm sorry."
Nathan hardly seemed to notice that he'd said anything, he just went on in a hollow voice, "I ain't never done no surgery like that. Seen it done a few times when I was with the Army." He shuddered. "Sure hope it don't go like that for him."
Chris had seen the results of some of those battlefield amputations and hoped the same. Looking up at Abel, hardly less waxy and pale than a corpse would be, the labored breathing the only sign he was alive at all, he thought for just a second that it would have been better if they'd found him dead. Spared him, and his folks, what they were going to have to go through.
Shamed that he'd even had the thought, he took a cloth and started washing Abel's face, cleaning off the blood and sweat. Making him presentable. He remembered what that'd been like, finding his family dead, would never forget it. Better this way, though maybe harder.
Nathan went to his bag and pulled out a book and some tools, including a handsaw that made Chris's stomach clench. "I've got to do some studying 'fore I start this. Learn what I can." He handed the tools to Josiah. "Go wash those off good as you can."
Before Josiah walked away, Chris said, "Don't let Mrs. Greenlaw see that saw if you can help it."
Josiah nodded, tucked the tools under his coat, and slipped out.
Nathan draped a sheet over the boy, especially hiding the horrible looking leg, blistered and bleeding even after the carbolic. "Better bring his momma in to sit with him while I'm studying, Chris. She's got to be dying inside."
"Is Mr. Greenlaw here?" Chris asked as he stood, dropping the cloth into the bowl of blood and water at Nathan's feet.
"He had something he needed to see to in town, said he'd be along when he could," Nathan said. "Someone ought to go get him." He looked up at Chris, brown eyes dull with sorrow. "His boy's likely gon' die. If the snakebite don't get him the surgery is like to."
Chris nodded. "I know. We knew that when we found him."
He walked out of the bedroom to the sitting room where Mrs. Greenlaw sobbed, held by Mrs. Stokely. "Mrs. Greenlaw, this is a good time if you want to go sit with Abel for a spell."
She clung to Mrs. Stokely's hand as she stood and said, "Martha, you'll come with me?"
Mrs. Stokely, with a searching look at Chris who nodded, rose, saying, "Of course, sugar, of course."
There was a sharp sob as soon as Mrs. Greenlaw walked into the bedroom. Chris dropped his head for a minute, sharing the mother's pain for her boy, then walked outside.
Vin sat on the bottom porch step at the edge of the house's light, head in his hands. He didn't even look up when Chris sat down at the other end of the step. Chris sat silent with him for a moment, lighting a cheroot and taking advantage of the few minutes of calm before the storm.
Without raising his head, Vin asked, "How's Abel?"
Chris took a long puff of his cigar, then said, "Hangin' in. Barely. Nathan's getting ready to amputate."
Vin dropped one hand and smacked the open palm on the step next to him. "He ain't going to make it is he?" His voice had none of its usual calm. He sounded ragged and torn, like he was losing his own son, rather than a boy he had barely known.
Chris pressed his lips together and said, "Nathan ain't giving up hope yet. No reason for us to."
Vin sprang to his feet and whirled on Chris. "Damn it, Chris, you saw how it is." Even in his upset, he kept his voice pitched low, away from the ears of Mrs. Greenlaw. A kindness he probably didn't even realize he was making.
"Yeah, I saw," Chris said, fighting his own despair at the situation. "But it don't do any good to give up on the boy either."
Vin turned to face the night, but didn't walk away as Chris half expected him to. "No, it don't. I reckon you're right." He turned back, his face drawn. "I'll help."
Chris took another long drag, then stood and said, "I never doubted it, Vin." Vin looked away, over Chris's shoulder, refusing even that small a compliment. "Someone needs to ride into town and find out what's keeping Mr. Greenlaw. Bring him back."
Vin appeared to shrink into the folds of his hide coat, then he squared his shoulders. "I'll go. See if JD found a doctor too."
Chris stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Be a damn sight easier for me to do it, Vin. And I reckon Mr. Greenlaw'd rather hear the news from me."
Vin nodded, with a grateful look in his eyes. "If you'd rather, I ain't gonna stop you. Take Dancer," he said, "Pony's wore out from carrying you and Abel."
Before Chris turned to walk away, he squeezed Vin's slim shoulder. "You okay?"
Vin shrugged, but Chris couldn't tell if that was an answer to his question or just to shake off Chris's hand. There was no point in pressing the question, if Vin didn't want to say more he wouldn't, so Chris walked to the barn without another word. When he rode out a few minutes later, Vin was nowhere to be seen.
***
After a quick talk with JD, Chris went to the saloon. He strode through the batwing doors and spotted Buck in a shadowed corner with a slender brunette. "Buck, can I borrow your horse for a while?" he asked without preamble, startling Buck and nearly causing him to tumble the woman off his lap.
Buck settled her again, rearranging her so he could more easily see Chris. "Everything okay with that boy?"
Chris shook his head. "I need to get Mr. Greenlaw out to the Stokely farm. Steele's fast but too sensible to throw a novice."
Buck nodded. "Okay. But I need him back tonight. Ezra and me are riding out on patrol at dawn. Best way to beat the heat."
Chris, who had started to turn away as soon as Buck said okay, looked back over his shoulder. "Ezra?"
Buck grinned. "I had a good run of luck tonight. I told him I'd give him back his money if we got out of here before the sun was half over the horizon. Figure I win either way."
Chris let himself relax just a bit and smiled. "Don't surprise me he went for the money. I'll get him back."
Buck's attention was entirely on the woman in his lap by the time Chris finished speaking and he waved Chris away without a word.
After saddling Buck's horse, Chris went to the Greenlaw's shop. Through the window he could see Mr. Greenlaw working by lamplight, setting out some fancy satin ribbons. He shook his head and wondered what a lady would do with ribbons and bows out here. They'd just get wrecked by dust or blown away by the wind.
At his knock, Mr. Greenlaw opened the door. "Mr. Larabee. How's my son?"
Chris shook his head. "It doesn't look so good, Mr. Greenlaw. Nathan says you'd best come quickly so you can see Abel before he operates."
Mr. Greenlaw, tall and lean and stooped, looked down at him. "Okay. I'll need to hire a wagon."
"I've got a horse ready for you." He gestured over his shoulder at Steele. "Just come on."
Chris wasn't sure what to expect from Mr. Greenlaw. He'd known some fathers who would have kept on working until their sons were laid in their graves. His own father had been stamped in that mold. But Mr. Greenlaw just took off his apron and, locking the door behind him, said, "Let's go."
They set off at a gentle trot. Once he'd gotten a little bit comfortable with the gait and the riding, Mr. Greenlaw turned to him and said, "What happened to my son?"
Chris took a deep breath, then said, "He was bitten by a rattlesnake. After he was bit he panicked and ran. Made things worse than if he'd just stayed still and waited to be found." Mr. Greenlaw's eyes went wide and Chris added, "But he didn't know that," to soften his words.
There was silence for a while, then Mr. Greenlaw said, "We came out here looking to make our fortune. We put all of our savings into it, everything we had. Even borrowed money from a bank."
Chris nodded. He'd put everything he had into coming west himself, Indiana being far too small and tame for him. Especially when he was younger and wilder.
"Abel hates it out here. We had a fight this morning. He said we should go back to Boston, that we were stupid to have come out here." Chris winced but said nothing. "I told him to go on back on his own, if he wanted." Mr. Greenlaw let go of the saddle horn long enough to wipe his face and said, "I didn't think he'd actually do it. He said he was going to get the train in Ridge City."
Chris looked up, then shook his head. There was no point in saying that Abel wasn't running in the direction of Ridge City. No point at all. "I reckon he'd have come back if he could, Mr. Greenlaw. Sometimes a boy just needs to get away for a while, figure out what's important on his own."
Looking over at him with exhausted, red eyes, Mr. Greenlaw said, "Do you have children, Mr. Larabee?"
Chris's heart clenched, as it always did when he thought of Adam, and he said, "Not anymore."
"Then how do you know?" Mr. Greenlaw asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger.
"I was sixteen once too, headstrong and proud," Chris said, simply. "I must have run away from home half a dozen times when my pa and I fought. I'd spend the night out in some stranger's barn or under a tree, then I'd go back home the next morning. Pa never said anything about it, just put me back to work without a word."
"It'll be a long time before Abel gets back to work, I suppose," Mr. Greenlaw said, and Chris was pleased to hear that he didn't sound angry about that fact.
Chris took a deep breath, then said, "Nathan's going to be amputating his leg. Changes the kind of work a man can do."
Mr. Greenlaw rocked back in the saddle, startling Steele into a couple of prancing steps. His face glowed pale as the moonlight. "Amputate?"
Chris nodded. "It's the only thing he can do."
Mr. Greenlaw swallowed hard, then pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and blew his nose. After a bit he said, voice thin, "I appreciate you coming for me, Mr. Larabee."
Chris smiled to accept the thank you and said, "We're in for a long night. Call me Chris."
Most of the ride passed in silence. When the lights of the Stokely's homestead were just visible in the distance, Mr. Greenlaw turned to Chris. "Your man Tanner said he lost Abel's trail..."
Chris held up his hand, and when Mr. Greelaw fell silent, said, "Vin's his own man. I'm lucky enough to count him friend is all." Every word was clipped and hard.
Greenlaw shook his head, and said in a voice like steel on rock, "Ruth said you went with him. Why didn't you make sure he kept on the trail?"
"Keep him on it? I couldn't even see it most of the time," Chris snapped. "I have no idea how Vin found your son. Or how he knew he'd been bitten by a snake when he was still a mile off. If Abel has any chance at all, it's because Vin found him while he was still alive."
Mr. Greenlaw nodded with obvious reluctance, but didn't answer.
Neither of them said anything until they rode into the yard. As they approached the house, Mr. Greenlaw said, "I just hate that Abel left angry. That I let him go away like that."
Chris nodded, some of his irritation fading. At least he didn't have the burden of knowing that his last moments with Sarah and Adam had been filled with anger rather than love. He could only imagine how much harder that would make their loss.
***
Vin was waiting for them when they rode up. Probably heard their hoofbeats before anyone else did and slipped out.
When Mr. Greenlaw reined his horse to a stop, Vin took the reins, steadying Steele while Mr. Greenlaw dismounted clumsily. "I'll tend the horse, you'd best get inside. Nathan wants to operate soon's you've had some time with your boy."
Mr. Greenlaw, tall and severe, nodded sharply and walked past with a mumble that Chris couldn't hear but that made Vin's mouth set in a hard line. Not a thank you. Chris shook his head, angry.
He dismounted, feeling the strain of the long day. He looked at Vin, wanting to ask how Vin was doing, but knowing there was no point. He offered the only small comfort he could, a break from the pain in that house, and a break from the Greenlaws. "I promised Buck someone'd take Steele back to town. He's got patrol in the morning and wants to ride out before the heat sets in. Could you do that for me? I don't much like riding Dancer." He deliberately phrased it as a request rather than an offer, knowing that Vin would find a request harder to refuse.
Vin flashed a ghost of a smile and Chris knew his ruse had been seen through. "You're just used to that big ol' quiet nag of yours. Can't take a horse with a bit of spirit." He took Dancer's reins from Chris with a nod of thanks. When he was mounted Chris passed him Steele's reins.
Once he was settled, Vin said, "Did you think to ask JD about a doctor?"
Chris nodded. "JD couldn't find a doctor in Bitter Creek or Eagle Bend. He was ready to wire to Ridge City but I told him no. Abel'll either be dead or on the mend by the time a doctor could get here from Ridge City." Before Vin rode off, Chris asked, "You coming back after you take the horse to town?"
Vin was still and silent, not answering but not leaving neither. Chris set his hand on Vin's knee, offering his presence even if that wasn't any real comfort. Vin looked down at it, then said, "Yeah. Got to see this through, I reckon. Don't do no good to try and run from a mistake."
Chris squeezed Vin's knee, then said, "This isn't your fault, Vin."
Vin tensed and took up the reins. "Ain't the way his parents see it. Ain't the way I see it, neither." He made a clucking noise and wheeled his horse away from Chris and out into the night, Buck's horse trotting behind. Steele's grey hide shone in the moonlight, marking their location long after Vin had been lost to the darkness.
Chris shook himself free of that thought and went inside.
Mr. Greenlaw was waiting outside the door to the bedroom when Chris walked in. "Mr. Jackson's a good doctor?"
Chris tilted his head and studied Mr. Greenlaw out of the side of his eye. "He'll be the first to tell you that he's not a doctor at all. But he's the only hope Abel's got."
Shoulders rounded, Mr. Greenlaw walked into the bedroom. Chris followed him a moment later.
The room was deceptively still. Nathan sat next to the lamp reading intently, flipping from one section of the large book to another, trying to absorb everything he needed to know. The Greenlaws sat at either side of the head of the bed, each offering what they could. Mrs. Greenlaw fussed with a cup of something, maybe still the willow tea, maybe something else, trying to get Abel to drink. Mr. Greenlaw stroked Abel's black curls away from his face, more gentleness in his touch than Chris would have guessed the man was capable of. Mrs. Stokely folded bandages in the corner. Didn't seem necessary to Chris, but it was something for her to do and feel useful at.
At the foot of the bed, Josiah stood, head bowed in prayer. His deep voice was soft, but in the hush of the room it was clearly audible to all. "Lord, some folks say You don't ask of people more than they can give. And that's true. But sometimes Your tests are mighty difficult. Please give all these folks the power to face this one." Nathan flipped a page on the other side of the room, and ran a hand over his head. "And please give Nathan strength and steadiness so he can care for the boy in accordance with Your Great Plan. Amen."
A chorus of amens rippled around the room, none more fervent than the one from Nathan. He set his book down and looked around the room. "Where's Vin? We need one more."
"He had to ride to town. He'll be back as soon as he can," Chris said. Mr. Greenlaw scowled, but said nothing.
Nathan looked at the boy again, and appeared to make a decision. He stood straight and faced them all. "Can't wait for him. We best get started while Abel's still got the strength. Miz Greenlaw, Miz Stokely, it's time for you ladies to step out now. Be watching for Vin to get back. Tell him he needs to wash his hands good then come straight in. I'll need his help."
Mrs. Stokely stepped forward and coaxed the other woman out of the room. Mr. Greenlaw stood to follow them, but Nathan stopped him. "We're gon' need your help, sir. I don't think the boy's got much fight in him right now but if he's got any strength at all, I'll need you to hold him down. He'll trust you more than any stranger."
Mr. Greenlaw looked at Chris, a question in his eyes. Chris nodded. "He's right. It was just a fight, Jacob," Chris said, using the man's Christian name for the first time. "Don't mean the trust is gone. Or the love."
When Mr. Greenlaw took his place at the head of the bed, Nathan handed the medical book to Josiah and said, "I need you to read to me, Josiah. Make sure I don't forget nothing. If he thrashes, help hold him down, but don't stop readin'."
Josiah took the book and moved to the far side of the bed. While Nathan laid the tools out and set a basin on the floor at the edge of the bed, Josiah read silently, preparing himself for his assigned task. He paled as he did so, and Chris knew from that what was to come. Knew it was going to be bad. He'd seen the results of battlefield amputations during and after the War, heard the screams from the hospital tents, walked past the pile of feet and legs and arms left to rot in the sun, but he'd hoped to never have to witness one.
Nathan turned to Chris. "I need you to help me. Hand me tools when I ask for them, keep things clear of blood so's I can see, anything that seems to need doin'. Can you do that?"
With a conscious effort, Chris set aside his nausea and fear and steeled himself, putting on the same strength with which he'd face a gunfight. Hell, a gunfight'd be easier than facing this. "Just let me go wash up. I can do whatever you need me to."
Nathan walked with him to the kitchen, where they washed their hands together. "I hope Vin gets back before we get to sawing bone. If I'd known he was going back to town, I'd've asked him to bring Ezra. He's got the lightest touch of all of us. According to the book, it's a real delicate job holding the leg just right for the sawing."
"We'll deal with that when we come to it," Chris said. "Let's do it."
***
On to part 2.
Fandom: Magnificent Seven (OW, Chris/Vin, Nathan, Josiah)
Rating: R, FRM
Word Count: about 13,500
Summary: Vin takes on a tracking job that goes tragically wrong.
A Note in Warning: The book Josiah reads from is "The Practice of Surgery", by Samuel Cooper, with notes by Dr. Alexander H. Stevens. This book served as the "How To" guide for Civil War surgeons. The story has graphic descriptions of medical procedures.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Catyah for miles of encouragement. Big squeezy hugs to sassyinkpen and spikedluv for the betas. :D
Chris sat in the shade outside the jailhouse, reading. The day was hot, but the breeze, faint as it was, made outside a hair more pleasant than the stifling heat inside. He wasn't paying a lot of thought to his book, it was as familiar and comfortable as an old boot, but it kept folks in town from talking to him unless they had important business.
The sound of horses attracted his attention immediately, and he smiled to see Vin and Ezra returning from their patrol. Apparently all was quiet with the outlying farms; they were walking in with no particular urgency. The day was too hot even for troublemakers, Chris reckoned.
Ezra dismounted and led his horse around toward the livery. Vin tipped his hat to him, exchanging a word and a smile, and dismounted in front of the saloon. He had the look of a man who wanted a beer to wash the trail dust out of his mouth, and Chris was inclined to join him. Turning back to his book, Chris pretended to read for a bit, stretching his legs out comfortably in front of him, more relaxed than he had been. He'd stay on reading until Vin was inside, seated, before joining him. It wasn't exactly that he'd been waiting for Vin to get back, after all. Just that he'd be pleased to have a beer with him, maybe some supper or cards.
Chris had barely read a paragraph or two when he heard a commotion from down the street. Looking up he saw one of the town's newest residents, Mrs. Greenlaw, a small birdlike woman from Boston, running along the street shouting, "Mr. Standish, Mr. Standish. Did you see my Abel? He ran away and I was hoping you saw him when you were out riding."
Ezra stopped in the street and turned to look at Vin.
Vin shook his head, and said, "He was on foot?" Without looking at him, she nodded. "No, ma'am. We didn't see nobody on foot. Couple of folks on horseback a ways off, but that was it."
Chris stood, grabbing his duster off the back of his chair with a sigh.
She put her hand on Ezra's arm, thin fingers holding his coat tight, "You've got to help us, please, Mr. Standish. Find him and bring him home." Her voice was shrill and her words tumbled out in a panicked rush. "Mrs. Travis says that you and your friends help people around here. Please find Abel."
Chris ambled over, waiting to see how things would develop.
Ezra patted dust off his jacket and said, "From what I've observed, madam, Abel is an intelligent young man. The desert is inhospitable and unpleasant. He'll have sense enough return to the comforts of home soon."
Hands wringing, quivering in her anxiety, Mrs. Greenlaw said, "He'll get lost in that desert, I'm certain of it. Maybe he'll get taken by Indians. Or attacked by a cougar."
Chris shook his head. Their fear of the new land they'd chosen had him positive that the Greenlaws'd be leaving by winter, whether their shop prospered or not. Jacob Greenlaw seemed to have a bare hint of the toughness of spirit needed to learn to live in the desert, and if he said stay, his wife and teenage son would have little choice but to do so. But Chris didn't figure that was going to happen.
Ezra turned to look at Vin again, passing the question along. Vin shook his head and said, "That don't seem real likely, ma'am. Ain't no cougars right round here. And the local Indians wouldn't take a boy. Not for no reason."
Without appearing to have heard Vin, Mrs. Greenlaw clutched Ezra's arm again. "Please, please, bring my son back."
Chris walked more quickly, irritated at her continual dismissal of Vin. He understood it, to an extent. The Greenlaws had made no effort to hide the fact that they weren't sure how to relate to Vin. When they addressed him at all it was as a child or servant.
"Ma'am," Ezra said, eyes flicking gratefully to Chris as he approached. "I am afraid that I'm not the person best suited to this task. My colleague, Mr. Tanner," he gestured to Vin, "is a tracker and knows this desert better than anyone in the Arizona Territory." Vin tightened his lips in disagreement but said nothing. "He is the best man to seek your son." He slipped his arm out of her grasp, tipped his hat to her, and led his horse toward the livery.
Chris slid into place next to Vin as Mrs. Greenlaw finally, reluctantly turned to acknowledge him. There could hardly be a sharper contrast between Vin, in his hide coat and plain shirt, long hair waving in the slight breeze, and Mrs. Greenlaw, dainty and proper in her blue lawn dress with her black hair pulled into a tight bun. When she saw Chris, Mrs. Greenlaw turned to him instead, obviously glad to have someone other than Vin to talk to. "Mr. Larabee. I was hoping some of your men could go find my Abel."
"I heard," Chris said, holding to his patience. "Ezra's right, Vin's best for the job." He turned to Vin, who nodded, apparently just as grateful as Mrs. Greenlaw for the buffer between them.
"I might could find him." Chris smiled at the self deprecating words, but said nothing. "When'd he leave?" Vin asked, addressing the woman in front of him.
For a moment Chris thought that Mrs. Greenlaw wouldn't answer the direct question, but she finally said, "He and my husband got into a row just before lunch and Abel ran off. Three hours ago, perhaps."
"Which direction?" Vin asked.
Mrs. Greenlaw, her handkerchief fluttering in the faint breeze, pointed down the street opposite the way Ezra and Vin had just arrived from, which explained why Vin hadn't seen him.
That was apparently as much attention as Mrs. Greenlaw was willing to give Vin because she then turned to Chris. "Please, Mr. Larabee, please won't you go?"
Chris caught Vin's eye, and saw a hint of irritation there along with a whole lot of welcome. He tipped his hat to Mrs. Greenlaw, said, "Yes, ma'am," and turned toward the livery to collect Pony. If he couldn't have a beer with Vin, at least he could spend some time with him. That would be worth the discomfort of a ride in this heat.
Behind him, Vin said, "We'll set out in just a minute, ma'am."
When Chris got back out to the street with his horse, Mrs. Greenlaw was watching Vin from the safety of the General Store's window. Vin sat on Peso taking a swig from his canteen.
As Chris mounted, he said, "You could have gotten a beer while you were waiting for me."
Vin shook his head. "Thought to, but she," he flicked a glance at the woman in the window, "squawked like I'd hit her when I walked toward the saloon. Figured I'd be better off waiting."
***
Four hours later, Chris waited as patiently as he could, and watched Vin work. Every few steps Vin would hunker down, sometimes he'd touch or trace something on the ground, something Chris could barely see. Other times he'd lean right over and lay his cheek on the grass. Then he'd mount again and they'd ride twenty or thirty feet before he dismounted once more.
It was frustratingly slow work and he didn't understand how Vin could stand it. He felt an urge to spur Pony into a gallop and ride out across the desert toward the mountains, apparently the direction Abel Greenlaw was headed, and catch the boy up. Peso was frustrated too and kept nudging and distracting Vin.
At least now they were making progress again. He'd been about out of his mind when Vin lost the trail at a series of flat rocks and they went around them in circles for an hour, spiraling slowly outward, until he picked up a track he was certain belonged to the boy. Vin was silent the whole time, staring at the ground as he led Peso in slow circles. Chris thought about suggesting they just pick a direction and go in it, in hopes of catching Abel, but one look at Vin's face, square jaw set, settled him back to waiting.
Now, their shadows were starting to lengthen behind them. "Vin, it's getting late. Do you know where he's headed?"
"I might could tell you if he knew hisself," Vin said, looking up at him, dusty face streaked with sweat. "Every few paces he sees something new and thinks to run that way for a spell. His track's as crooked as a drunk's. Worse. At least a drunk usually knows where he's going."
"Greenhorns," Chris said, without malice. "They shouldn't let folks further west than Chicago if they don't know how to stay alive out here."
Vin ignored him, fingering something in the grass. Broken twig maybe. Peso stomped and knocked Vin's hat off. Vin pushed the horse away by the nose and retrieved the hat from the ground.
Chris grunted and settled back. Vin lowered his head and looked right along the top of the grass toward the setting sun. The golden sunlight found sparks in his hair, gilded the edge of his cheekbone. Chris's eyes tracked the strong line of Vin's jaw, softened by the glitter of beard stubble, followed the line of his shoulder and back, strong and capable.
Two steps later, Vin was squatting, staring intently at the grass. Peso nudged Vin hard in the back, tipping off his hat again and knocking him off balance.
Vin pushed the horse away as he swore, "Goddamned mule, you near made me wreck the track," then held Peso's reins up and back in a silent request. Chris was nudging Pony gently forward so he could reach them even before Vin said, "Hold him for me, cowboy. If you happen to shoot him on accident, I won't mind a bit."
Chris snorted as he took the reins. If he hurt a hair on Peso's hide, Vin'd be likely to shoot him. Man and horse were both ornery and stubborn as hell, but they were a pair. Without question.
Pony was straining at the bit, pulling toward a clump of grass a foot or so ahead of Vin. Chris held him in, much to the horse's disgust. Chris had already been snapped at for blocking the light and he didn't much like the idea of facing Vin if he or the horse damaged some mark or sign he couldn't even guess was there.
He was caught up in holding Pony back, both hands on the reins, Peso's reins looped over his saddle horn, when Vin stood up suddenly with a soft curse. "He got bit by a snake, Chris. Took off in a blind panic." Vin pointed toward the south, the direction of Purgatorio, gateway to the harsh lands of Mexico. "He's headed south. Running."
Chris scowled and asked, "Rattler?" He hoped that Vin would recognize the snake from something, the way the grass bent under it maybe, or the shape of the track it left. Hoped there was something that would reassure him that it was just a rat snake.
Vin dashed his fragile hopes, saying, "No way to tell in this grass 'less I find the snake. Ain't worth the effort. He should be easy to catch now."
Chris nodded and handed Peso's reins over to Vin. Pony seemed to sense that something was coming because he'd lost his fidgety restlessness and was now poised, waiting for a command. "Let's go get him then," Chris said. If Abel'd been bitten by a rattler, running was about the worst thing he could be doing. No sense offering to go back for Nathan. With the lead he had, the boy might well be dead already.
When Vin was seated on Peso, Chris spurred Pony into a lope. Peso fell in next to him, Vin sitting high in the saddle scanning the horizon for any sign of the boy. But there was nothing but rocks and grass, both burned to the same dun shade by the blazing desert sun, and sparsely scattered trees. The trees were thin enough that their shade hardly seemed worth the effort of getting to it.
After a minute, Chris spotted something near one of the rocks, a hint of movement. While he was still looking to see if the smudge of shadow could possibly be Abel, Vin said, "Got him," and spurred Peso into a gallop, taking off at a different angle. Without a question, Chris followed him.
Abel was crumpled in the dappled shade of a tree three-quarters of a mile on. Chris didn't see him until they were a third of the way there, but he never doubted that Vin was right about where the boy was. Never doubted that Vin would find him.
Now if only he was okay.
Abel was hunched on the ground, a pool of vomit in front of him, his hair wet with sweat. He was curled into a ball, breathing labored. Chris stroked his forehead, brushing back the curls that stuck to his cheek. The kid was burning up, but that could be heat stroke as much as snake bite. "Which leg?" he asked.
Vin appeared on the other side of the boy. "Left. Reckon just above the ankle."
Chris nodded and rested his hand gently on Abel's calf. At the barest touch, the boy screamed in agony. The scream died away in a keen of pain like an injured animal, and then fell silent. Damn. "Got to get these pants off."
Vin nodded. "Yep," he said, handing Chris his knife. The thin city fabric gave way easily under the heavy knife. Abel's leg was black, blistered and stark white near the bite, with angry red streaks running way up past his knee. Vin muttered a curse. "He ain't wearin' boots? Those shoes wouldn't stop a scorpion, Chris. Why'd his folks let him go out like this?"
"They don't know any better," Chris said, feeling more sympathy than anger for Abel and his parents. Chris applied himself to cutting off the leather shoe. The Greenlaws still hadn't settled into their home behind the new mercantile, still hadn't opened their new shop, and they stood fair to lose their boy. Chris shook his head.
The touch of the knife on the leather caused Abel to whimper and Chris steeled himself to the pain he was causing, but didn't stop his work. That shoe needed to come off. Abel heaved and puked again, blood mixed with yellow bile. Vin moved the boy's head away from the mess, leaving a bloody streak on the grass.
While Chris finished cutting off Abel's shoe, Vin used his bandanna and a strip of cloth to bandage the bite, which was bleeding and blistered. Vin shook his head. "With all that running he did, there ain't no point in a tourniquet. The poison's all through him now." He looked again at the leg. "He's gonna lose that leg, ain't he?" His voice was sad and heavy.
Chris didn't answer, though he knew Vin was right. Once the shoe was off the swollen foot, Chris turned to Vin. "How long back to town?"
"An hour, maybe a bit more. That's flat out. With him riding double, least two and half." Vin stroked the pale cheek. "One of us could go get Nathan and bring him back, but he don't have that much time Chris, you know that," Vin said.
Chris nodded, but just said, "Is there a farm that'd be a closer ride?"
Vin thought for a second, and Chris imagined him studying a map in his head. A map that showed every tree, every hill, every farm and house, in the Arizona Territory. "Stokely place. You know it?"
Chris thought for a minute, then nodded, "Near the big old oak tree at the entrance to Baker Pass."
"That's it. Even with him it shouldn't be all of two hours. Miz Stokely's real nice. I reckon his ma and pa would rather you tended to Abel. I'll meet you there with Nathan," Vin said. Chris felt a spike of anger at the thought that Vin was undoubtedly right, but said nothing. Vin led Pony close, holding him while Chris mounted.
Between them they got Abel situated as best they could, slung across the saddle with only slightly more grace than a sack of feed. He was unconscious and silent except for the hard breathing and didn't respond to anything they did. Not even when they knew it had to hurt.
As soon as Chris and Abel were settled Vin mounted Peso. He paused for a second then said, "Nathan and me'll be waiting for you at the Stokely farm. Take care of him." His face was shadowed by the sunset behind him and Chris couldn't make out his expression, but his voice was strained.
Before Chris could say anything, Vin clapped spurs to Peso's sides and flipped the reins, taking off at a ferocious gallop.
Chris adjusted the limp weight of the boy, surprised at it. Abel had more meat on him than Chris expected, and Chris had to remind himself that he wasn't that much younger than JD'd been when he came to Four Corners. Just a whole hell of a lot greener. He shook his head at the thought, and nudged Pony into a hard trot.
The first half of that ride was a nightmare of heat and sweat, vomit and blood and a hellish red sunset, the likes of which Chris'd never seen. Abel roused enough that he whimpered with every step the horse took, blood leaking from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Every so often he'd heave and puke bile and blood all over himself and Chris. When he started struggling to get away from the pain, Chris slowed Pony into a walk. Just for a short spell, because the kindness of sparing the boy pain might very well kill him if he didn't get him to Nathan soon.
When Abel settled and relaxed just a bit, the worst edge of hard tension leaving his muscles, Chris pushed Pony a little faster, trying to make up the time they lost. They proceeded like that for an hour or more, until the sunset had faded into nothing more than a hint of light on the western horizon. Abel's struggles became weaker as time passed, until he just had the strength to whine pitifully.
When even that strength left him, Chris resisted the temptation to stop and check on the boy, he could tell everything he needed from the thudding fast heartbeat and painful breathing. Chris reckoned that he was still at least an hour away from the Stokely place. He eased Pony into a lope, hoping he could maintain that pace all the way.
Hoping he could still get there in time.
****
When he finally arrived at the Stokely farm, it was near full dark. Vin, looking a little uncomfortable on JD's dainty bay, Dancer, met him about half a mile out from the farm.
"I was starting to think you got lost or something," Vin said, voice tight.
"Abel couldn't take much hard riding. When he finally passed out we could move faster. He's a tough kid." Vin nodded, mouth as tight as his voice had been. "Nathan here?"
"Yep, and Josiah. Mrs. Stokely's given over her bed for the boy. Everything's ready for him. JD's wired to Eagle Bend and Bitter Creek in case they have a doctor." He looked at the boy, slumped in Chris's arms. "He okay?"
Chris shook his head. "No. But we'll do all we can for him." He rested his hand on the boy's forehead, even though he could feel the fever right through his clothes. As long as he was still hot he was still alive. That was something at least. "Did you tell his folks?"
Vin looked away. "Yeah. His ma's waiting at the Stokelys. I told 'em he was bit bad, but I don't think they know what to expect."
"I doubt anyone would," Chris said, the grimness in his heart coloring his voice. They rode the last bit of the way in silence.
Mrs. Greenlaw ran forward as soon as Chris reined Pony to a stop, crowding Chris and the boy, but too distraught to offer useful help. Mrs. Stokely stepped forward and shooed her back gently, saying, "Let the men help Abel, now, Ruth. You'll get to see him soon enough."
Mrs. Greenlaw allowed herself to be led away, her eyes, dark and filled with anguish, never leaving Abel. Tear tracks glistened on her cheeks, reflecting the lamplight.
Her place at Pony's side was taken by Nathan, who took Abel from Chris's hold. As soon as he and Vin carried Abel into the lights from the door, Nathan made a soft noise of dismay. He shook his head. "I don't know..." He turned to Josiah, standing in the doorway, "Josiah, dish up some of that willow bark tea. And start the snakeroot boiling." Josiah nodded and retreated inside without a word.
Chris stopped on the porch to slip off his duster, stained and stinking, before he went inside. The ladies didn't need to be seeing that. He sure as hell didn't need to be smelling it any longer.
When he got inside, Nathan was removing Abel's stained shirt and coat while Vin cut his trousers and drawers off. The uninjured leg was pale and strong, with almost the full growth of manhood. The contrast with the bit leg, swollen and black, shot with streaks of stark white and blazing red, was shocking.
After they had the boy settled, Nathan set himself to cleaning the wound with carbolic, trying to see the extent of the damage. The first touch of the carbolic on the wound drew a flinch and a whimper from Abel, but that was all. Nathan made another soft noise and Chris saw that his hands were shaking.
Josiah tried to coax some of the willow bark tea past the slack, bloodstained lips. "You need to drink this, son," he said, but there was no response. His voice fell to an inaudible mumble of prayer.
Through all this, Vin stood at the foot of the bed, looking lost in a way that Chris had never seen before. One of the things Chris most admired in Vin, most loved to be near and take strength from, was the sense of place he felt from Vin. Vin always knew where he was, not just on that mental map of his, but in a strange solidity no one else seemed to share. Vin traveled lightly and moved easily, Chris knew that, but he always carried the peace of being where he ought to be, no matter where that was. But now he looked completely lost, as out of place as he would at a fancy New York City ball.
Vin pushed his hat back and ran shaking fingers through his hair, then said in a mumble Chris could barely hear, "I'll tend to the horses."
As Vin walked by, Chris wanted to offer him some sort of support, but Vin didn't stop until he got to the door of the room. At the door, he looked back over his shoulder at Abel for just a moment, then faded away into the darker living room.
Chris rolled up his shirt sleeves and stepped close to Nathan, who looked up at him, face drawn. "That leg's got to come off, Chris."
Chris nodded even as his heart ached for the boy and his family. It was a hard life being a cripple, especially out here where there was always more work to be done than daylight hours to do it in. "We figured that when we saw the bite," he said, softly. "I'm sorry."
Nathan hardly seemed to notice that he'd said anything, he just went on in a hollow voice, "I ain't never done no surgery like that. Seen it done a few times when I was with the Army." He shuddered. "Sure hope it don't go like that for him."
Chris had seen the results of some of those battlefield amputations and hoped the same. Looking up at Abel, hardly less waxy and pale than a corpse would be, the labored breathing the only sign he was alive at all, he thought for just a second that it would have been better if they'd found him dead. Spared him, and his folks, what they were going to have to go through.
Shamed that he'd even had the thought, he took a cloth and started washing Abel's face, cleaning off the blood and sweat. Making him presentable. He remembered what that'd been like, finding his family dead, would never forget it. Better this way, though maybe harder.
Nathan went to his bag and pulled out a book and some tools, including a handsaw that made Chris's stomach clench. "I've got to do some studying 'fore I start this. Learn what I can." He handed the tools to Josiah. "Go wash those off good as you can."
Before Josiah walked away, Chris said, "Don't let Mrs. Greenlaw see that saw if you can help it."
Josiah nodded, tucked the tools under his coat, and slipped out.
Nathan draped a sheet over the boy, especially hiding the horrible looking leg, blistered and bleeding even after the carbolic. "Better bring his momma in to sit with him while I'm studying, Chris. She's got to be dying inside."
"Is Mr. Greenlaw here?" Chris asked as he stood, dropping the cloth into the bowl of blood and water at Nathan's feet.
"He had something he needed to see to in town, said he'd be along when he could," Nathan said. "Someone ought to go get him." He looked up at Chris, brown eyes dull with sorrow. "His boy's likely gon' die. If the snakebite don't get him the surgery is like to."
Chris nodded. "I know. We knew that when we found him."
He walked out of the bedroom to the sitting room where Mrs. Greenlaw sobbed, held by Mrs. Stokely. "Mrs. Greenlaw, this is a good time if you want to go sit with Abel for a spell."
She clung to Mrs. Stokely's hand as she stood and said, "Martha, you'll come with me?"
Mrs. Stokely, with a searching look at Chris who nodded, rose, saying, "Of course, sugar, of course."
There was a sharp sob as soon as Mrs. Greenlaw walked into the bedroom. Chris dropped his head for a minute, sharing the mother's pain for her boy, then walked outside.
Vin sat on the bottom porch step at the edge of the house's light, head in his hands. He didn't even look up when Chris sat down at the other end of the step. Chris sat silent with him for a moment, lighting a cheroot and taking advantage of the few minutes of calm before the storm.
Without raising his head, Vin asked, "How's Abel?"
Chris took a long puff of his cigar, then said, "Hangin' in. Barely. Nathan's getting ready to amputate."
Vin dropped one hand and smacked the open palm on the step next to him. "He ain't going to make it is he?" His voice had none of its usual calm. He sounded ragged and torn, like he was losing his own son, rather than a boy he had barely known.
Chris pressed his lips together and said, "Nathan ain't giving up hope yet. No reason for us to."
Vin sprang to his feet and whirled on Chris. "Damn it, Chris, you saw how it is." Even in his upset, he kept his voice pitched low, away from the ears of Mrs. Greenlaw. A kindness he probably didn't even realize he was making.
"Yeah, I saw," Chris said, fighting his own despair at the situation. "But it don't do any good to give up on the boy either."
Vin turned to face the night, but didn't walk away as Chris half expected him to. "No, it don't. I reckon you're right." He turned back, his face drawn. "I'll help."
Chris took another long drag, then stood and said, "I never doubted it, Vin." Vin looked away, over Chris's shoulder, refusing even that small a compliment. "Someone needs to ride into town and find out what's keeping Mr. Greenlaw. Bring him back."
Vin appeared to shrink into the folds of his hide coat, then he squared his shoulders. "I'll go. See if JD found a doctor too."
Chris stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Be a damn sight easier for me to do it, Vin. And I reckon Mr. Greenlaw'd rather hear the news from me."
Vin nodded, with a grateful look in his eyes. "If you'd rather, I ain't gonna stop you. Take Dancer," he said, "Pony's wore out from carrying you and Abel."
Before Chris turned to walk away, he squeezed Vin's slim shoulder. "You okay?"
Vin shrugged, but Chris couldn't tell if that was an answer to his question or just to shake off Chris's hand. There was no point in pressing the question, if Vin didn't want to say more he wouldn't, so Chris walked to the barn without another word. When he rode out a few minutes later, Vin was nowhere to be seen.
***
After a quick talk with JD, Chris went to the saloon. He strode through the batwing doors and spotted Buck in a shadowed corner with a slender brunette. "Buck, can I borrow your horse for a while?" he asked without preamble, startling Buck and nearly causing him to tumble the woman off his lap.
Buck settled her again, rearranging her so he could more easily see Chris. "Everything okay with that boy?"
Chris shook his head. "I need to get Mr. Greenlaw out to the Stokely farm. Steele's fast but too sensible to throw a novice."
Buck nodded. "Okay. But I need him back tonight. Ezra and me are riding out on patrol at dawn. Best way to beat the heat."
Chris, who had started to turn away as soon as Buck said okay, looked back over his shoulder. "Ezra?"
Buck grinned. "I had a good run of luck tonight. I told him I'd give him back his money if we got out of here before the sun was half over the horizon. Figure I win either way."
Chris let himself relax just a bit and smiled. "Don't surprise me he went for the money. I'll get him back."
Buck's attention was entirely on the woman in his lap by the time Chris finished speaking and he waved Chris away without a word.
After saddling Buck's horse, Chris went to the Greenlaw's shop. Through the window he could see Mr. Greenlaw working by lamplight, setting out some fancy satin ribbons. He shook his head and wondered what a lady would do with ribbons and bows out here. They'd just get wrecked by dust or blown away by the wind.
At his knock, Mr. Greenlaw opened the door. "Mr. Larabee. How's my son?"
Chris shook his head. "It doesn't look so good, Mr. Greenlaw. Nathan says you'd best come quickly so you can see Abel before he operates."
Mr. Greenlaw, tall and lean and stooped, looked down at him. "Okay. I'll need to hire a wagon."
"I've got a horse ready for you." He gestured over his shoulder at Steele. "Just come on."
Chris wasn't sure what to expect from Mr. Greenlaw. He'd known some fathers who would have kept on working until their sons were laid in their graves. His own father had been stamped in that mold. But Mr. Greenlaw just took off his apron and, locking the door behind him, said, "Let's go."
They set off at a gentle trot. Once he'd gotten a little bit comfortable with the gait and the riding, Mr. Greenlaw turned to him and said, "What happened to my son?"
Chris took a deep breath, then said, "He was bitten by a rattlesnake. After he was bit he panicked and ran. Made things worse than if he'd just stayed still and waited to be found." Mr. Greenlaw's eyes went wide and Chris added, "But he didn't know that," to soften his words.
There was silence for a while, then Mr. Greenlaw said, "We came out here looking to make our fortune. We put all of our savings into it, everything we had. Even borrowed money from a bank."
Chris nodded. He'd put everything he had into coming west himself, Indiana being far too small and tame for him. Especially when he was younger and wilder.
"Abel hates it out here. We had a fight this morning. He said we should go back to Boston, that we were stupid to have come out here." Chris winced but said nothing. "I told him to go on back on his own, if he wanted." Mr. Greenlaw let go of the saddle horn long enough to wipe his face and said, "I didn't think he'd actually do it. He said he was going to get the train in Ridge City."
Chris looked up, then shook his head. There was no point in saying that Abel wasn't running in the direction of Ridge City. No point at all. "I reckon he'd have come back if he could, Mr. Greenlaw. Sometimes a boy just needs to get away for a while, figure out what's important on his own."
Looking over at him with exhausted, red eyes, Mr. Greenlaw said, "Do you have children, Mr. Larabee?"
Chris's heart clenched, as it always did when he thought of Adam, and he said, "Not anymore."
"Then how do you know?" Mr. Greenlaw asked, his voice carrying a hint of anger.
"I was sixteen once too, headstrong and proud," Chris said, simply. "I must have run away from home half a dozen times when my pa and I fought. I'd spend the night out in some stranger's barn or under a tree, then I'd go back home the next morning. Pa never said anything about it, just put me back to work without a word."
"It'll be a long time before Abel gets back to work, I suppose," Mr. Greenlaw said, and Chris was pleased to hear that he didn't sound angry about that fact.
Chris took a deep breath, then said, "Nathan's going to be amputating his leg. Changes the kind of work a man can do."
Mr. Greenlaw rocked back in the saddle, startling Steele into a couple of prancing steps. His face glowed pale as the moonlight. "Amputate?"
Chris nodded. "It's the only thing he can do."
Mr. Greenlaw swallowed hard, then pulled a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and blew his nose. After a bit he said, voice thin, "I appreciate you coming for me, Mr. Larabee."
Chris smiled to accept the thank you and said, "We're in for a long night. Call me Chris."
Most of the ride passed in silence. When the lights of the Stokely's homestead were just visible in the distance, Mr. Greenlaw turned to Chris. "Your man Tanner said he lost Abel's trail..."
Chris held up his hand, and when Mr. Greelaw fell silent, said, "Vin's his own man. I'm lucky enough to count him friend is all." Every word was clipped and hard.
Greenlaw shook his head, and said in a voice like steel on rock, "Ruth said you went with him. Why didn't you make sure he kept on the trail?"
"Keep him on it? I couldn't even see it most of the time," Chris snapped. "I have no idea how Vin found your son. Or how he knew he'd been bitten by a snake when he was still a mile off. If Abel has any chance at all, it's because Vin found him while he was still alive."
Mr. Greenlaw nodded with obvious reluctance, but didn't answer.
Neither of them said anything until they rode into the yard. As they approached the house, Mr. Greenlaw said, "I just hate that Abel left angry. That I let him go away like that."
Chris nodded, some of his irritation fading. At least he didn't have the burden of knowing that his last moments with Sarah and Adam had been filled with anger rather than love. He could only imagine how much harder that would make their loss.
***
Vin was waiting for them when they rode up. Probably heard their hoofbeats before anyone else did and slipped out.
When Mr. Greenlaw reined his horse to a stop, Vin took the reins, steadying Steele while Mr. Greenlaw dismounted clumsily. "I'll tend the horse, you'd best get inside. Nathan wants to operate soon's you've had some time with your boy."
Mr. Greenlaw, tall and severe, nodded sharply and walked past with a mumble that Chris couldn't hear but that made Vin's mouth set in a hard line. Not a thank you. Chris shook his head, angry.
He dismounted, feeling the strain of the long day. He looked at Vin, wanting to ask how Vin was doing, but knowing there was no point. He offered the only small comfort he could, a break from the pain in that house, and a break from the Greenlaws. "I promised Buck someone'd take Steele back to town. He's got patrol in the morning and wants to ride out before the heat sets in. Could you do that for me? I don't much like riding Dancer." He deliberately phrased it as a request rather than an offer, knowing that Vin would find a request harder to refuse.
Vin flashed a ghost of a smile and Chris knew his ruse had been seen through. "You're just used to that big ol' quiet nag of yours. Can't take a horse with a bit of spirit." He took Dancer's reins from Chris with a nod of thanks. When he was mounted Chris passed him Steele's reins.
Once he was settled, Vin said, "Did you think to ask JD about a doctor?"
Chris nodded. "JD couldn't find a doctor in Bitter Creek or Eagle Bend. He was ready to wire to Ridge City but I told him no. Abel'll either be dead or on the mend by the time a doctor could get here from Ridge City." Before Vin rode off, Chris asked, "You coming back after you take the horse to town?"
Vin was still and silent, not answering but not leaving neither. Chris set his hand on Vin's knee, offering his presence even if that wasn't any real comfort. Vin looked down at it, then said, "Yeah. Got to see this through, I reckon. Don't do no good to try and run from a mistake."
Chris squeezed Vin's knee, then said, "This isn't your fault, Vin."
Vin tensed and took up the reins. "Ain't the way his parents see it. Ain't the way I see it, neither." He made a clucking noise and wheeled his horse away from Chris and out into the night, Buck's horse trotting behind. Steele's grey hide shone in the moonlight, marking their location long after Vin had been lost to the darkness.
Chris shook himself free of that thought and went inside.
Mr. Greenlaw was waiting outside the door to the bedroom when Chris walked in. "Mr. Jackson's a good doctor?"
Chris tilted his head and studied Mr. Greenlaw out of the side of his eye. "He'll be the first to tell you that he's not a doctor at all. But he's the only hope Abel's got."
Shoulders rounded, Mr. Greenlaw walked into the bedroom. Chris followed him a moment later.
The room was deceptively still. Nathan sat next to the lamp reading intently, flipping from one section of the large book to another, trying to absorb everything he needed to know. The Greenlaws sat at either side of the head of the bed, each offering what they could. Mrs. Greenlaw fussed with a cup of something, maybe still the willow tea, maybe something else, trying to get Abel to drink. Mr. Greenlaw stroked Abel's black curls away from his face, more gentleness in his touch than Chris would have guessed the man was capable of. Mrs. Stokely folded bandages in the corner. Didn't seem necessary to Chris, but it was something for her to do and feel useful at.
At the foot of the bed, Josiah stood, head bowed in prayer. His deep voice was soft, but in the hush of the room it was clearly audible to all. "Lord, some folks say You don't ask of people more than they can give. And that's true. But sometimes Your tests are mighty difficult. Please give all these folks the power to face this one." Nathan flipped a page on the other side of the room, and ran a hand over his head. "And please give Nathan strength and steadiness so he can care for the boy in accordance with Your Great Plan. Amen."
A chorus of amens rippled around the room, none more fervent than the one from Nathan. He set his book down and looked around the room. "Where's Vin? We need one more."
"He had to ride to town. He'll be back as soon as he can," Chris said. Mr. Greenlaw scowled, but said nothing.
Nathan looked at the boy again, and appeared to make a decision. He stood straight and faced them all. "Can't wait for him. We best get started while Abel's still got the strength. Miz Greenlaw, Miz Stokely, it's time for you ladies to step out now. Be watching for Vin to get back. Tell him he needs to wash his hands good then come straight in. I'll need his help."
Mrs. Stokely stepped forward and coaxed the other woman out of the room. Mr. Greenlaw stood to follow them, but Nathan stopped him. "We're gon' need your help, sir. I don't think the boy's got much fight in him right now but if he's got any strength at all, I'll need you to hold him down. He'll trust you more than any stranger."
Mr. Greenlaw looked at Chris, a question in his eyes. Chris nodded. "He's right. It was just a fight, Jacob," Chris said, using the man's Christian name for the first time. "Don't mean the trust is gone. Or the love."
When Mr. Greenlaw took his place at the head of the bed, Nathan handed the medical book to Josiah and said, "I need you to read to me, Josiah. Make sure I don't forget nothing. If he thrashes, help hold him down, but don't stop readin'."
Josiah took the book and moved to the far side of the bed. While Nathan laid the tools out and set a basin on the floor at the edge of the bed, Josiah read silently, preparing himself for his assigned task. He paled as he did so, and Chris knew from that what was to come. Knew it was going to be bad. He'd seen the results of battlefield amputations during and after the War, heard the screams from the hospital tents, walked past the pile of feet and legs and arms left to rot in the sun, but he'd hoped to never have to witness one.
Nathan turned to Chris. "I need you to help me. Hand me tools when I ask for them, keep things clear of blood so's I can see, anything that seems to need doin'. Can you do that?"
With a conscious effort, Chris set aside his nausea and fear and steeled himself, putting on the same strength with which he'd face a gunfight. Hell, a gunfight'd be easier than facing this. "Just let me go wash up. I can do whatever you need me to."
Nathan walked with him to the kitchen, where they washed their hands together. "I hope Vin gets back before we get to sawing bone. If I'd known he was going back to town, I'd've asked him to bring Ezra. He's got the lightest touch of all of us. According to the book, it's a real delicate job holding the leg just right for the sawing."
"We'll deal with that when we come to it," Chris said. "Let's do it."
***
On to part 2.