Chapter Text
DAY5>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Grace was tired. She was tired of dust, hunger and her stepfather. All she could thank god for was her stepfather’s horse and the coming rain. Her stepfather, Thomas Bradshaw, had finally passed out inside the shack so she was able to escape into the rain without too many questions. Ever since her mother had died it had become near impossible to get away from him without being berated and ordered around. But now she got to tend to Henry, her stepfathers strong paint stallion.
Henry wasn’t ridden often by Thomas Bradshaw, because Thomas didn’t leave the house often. He didn’t do much at all, really. He was supposed to be some kind of cowhand at a ranch near Jericho but he never seemed to be needed. Grace took care of the shack, even if she slept out in the barn near every night because he frightened her so much sometimes that she couldn't be near his unconscious form. She took care of the horse even though Henry didn’t belong to her, as Thomas was so quick to remind her. And she took care of the food, even if she wasn’t allowed much of it. But it was alright, she wasn’t completely alone when she had her dear Henry and she even kept a mean cat in the barn that she liked having around. It sure didn’t like her, but she had named it Ms. Charlotte after her old schoolteacher and she would be quite disappointed if the scrawny beast ever ran off or died.
When she entered the barn from the rain, she stomped her feet on the dry, dusty ground and watched as her thin black shoes darkened the reddish ground with splashes of rainwater. She was soaking wet and she knew she must look like Ms. Charlotte when she got locked out during a storm. She rung out the bottom of the skirt of her faded dress and started to whistle cheerfully as she looked for the brush she used on Henry. When she found it she went straight into the first stall on the right of the small barn. It had two stalls on the right and one on the left, leaving just enough room for two large bales of hay.
Grace entered the stall and Henry immediately nuzzled her shoulder and bit at the collar of her dress affectionately. She grinned and pushed away the paint’s head so she could get by and start brushing his sides. She hummed softly to steady him when he whinnied at the rumble of thunder overhead and she realized the rain was pounding much harder on the roof, than before, and there was a bad leak she noticed in the back corner that she would need to fix later. Another crack of thunder, this time closer, began to make her worry along with the poor, frightened stallion. If the lightening were to strike the barn she would have no chance of saving the building alone. She would have to set Henry free and leave her haven to burn. She prayed that the worst of the storm would pass and she could have the steady sprinkling of rain back that she had marveled at earlier.
Not too far away, two riders were hoping for the same thing. As the thunder grew louder and the flashes that lit up their world seemed to increase in frequency, Ezra Standish was beginning to feel fear. It was not an unfamiliar sensation, but certainly not one he was proud of. He preferred to be much more in control of himself. He shot a glance at Chris Larabee, who was not too far behind him and wondered how much this downpour was affecting his friend, who had already been fighting off a fever when they had left Jericho, late the day before. No doubt the fever had become even more of a problem; Chris was slouched in his saddle and seemed distant, despite the fact that they had nearly been struck by lightning not 10 minutes before. His coughing was becoming worse as well, and his illness seemed to be catching, much to Ezra’s dismay. But both of them would have to stick it out because they still had at least a day’s ride ahead of them to get back to Four Corners.
Ezra found himself drifting just as distantly as Chris while they rode, and he found it felt as if the storm was in another world. The thunder almost seemed to be drowned out sometimes, and then suddenly he was shocked alert by a tearing crack and a near blinding flash of light. His horse bucked twice before he was thrown and his poor Chaucer took off faster than he’d ever seen him go. It took him a long moment to catch his breath and assess his situation because his coughing was getting to be nearly as bad as Chris’s. He struggled onto his elbows from his back with a groan and saw that the dry old tree they had been riding under was now a mess of singed wood, black in some parts and still burning in others. He saw Chris nearby and struggle the rest of the way to his knees and then to his feet to reach the fallen man. He had obviously been thrown from his horse as well, and as he got closer he realized one of the missing limbs from the struck tree had pinned his left arm to the ground. Ezra quickly threw it off and was rewarded with minor burns on his hands for his troubles.
Chris was in bad shape, he had hit his head when he was thrown and there was blood leaking from his left temple, looking even worse as it mingled with the rainwater and his arm was clearly burned, all to go along with a fever that was raging hotter every minute. Ezra cursed quietly.
“Well Chris, I wonder if you have any insight in regards to escaping our current predicament?” he asked as he made sure his comrade was still breathing. Chris stirred slightly after a moment and Ezra grinned when his eyes squinted open, “Sooner than expected, Mr. Larabee. How you feeling this fine afternoon?”
“Wha-?” Chris mumbled through clenched teeth. He attempted to sit up as Ezra answered.
“Looks like we were both thrown when lightening hit that tree there. Are you able to stand?” Chris groaned at the nausea he already felt when Ezra helped him to sit up and growled back his response.
“I can stand if you’ll help me up,” Ezra latched his arm around Larabee’s shoulders and helped pull him up so they could start to walk. “Where the hell we going now, Ez?”
“We passed quite a few homesteads between Jericho and Four Corners so I’m sure we’ll reach one eventually if we have any luck at all,” Ezra replied. He really didn’t even remember if there had been more than two homesteads, but he hoped against hope that they found one soon. He started to drift into his thoughts again, even as they continued to walk.
“Ez? Hey, Ezra. Standish!” Chris finally snapped him out of his stupor.
“Huh?” he asked elegantly.
“Look,” Chris nodded his head forward and winced at the action. Ezra looked; there was a small shack and an old looking barn ahead, “Look good to you?”
“But of course, Mr. Larabee, looks more luxurious than the finest hotel I’ve ever seen,” Ezra was grinning again. They started forwards again, toward the little homestead as another bolt of lightning cracked very nearby, sounding like it hit something else.
Grace ran into the rain again to see if the source of the cracking sound was the little tree outside their property limits and immediately noticed two men limping towards the property. She swallowed tightly and made a quick decision, knowing that Thomas was still in a booze-induced coma in the shack. She could either grab the shotgun from inside the barn door or just greet them as she was. When she realized they probably couldn’t do a whole lot, limping like they were, she decided on the latter. She moved forward, fluidly, hoping to seem unimposing and then nearly laughing at the thought of a sopping wet 16-year-old girl frightening a couple of nomadic gunslingers. As she got closer she studied them. One of them had dark hair, a cheeky grin and a red coat, while the other, who seemed to be hurt worse, wore all black and had blond hair falling into his calculating eyes.
“Hello there,” called the one with the red coat as she reached them. They stopped and so did she.
“Hello,” she replied, smiling a small smile. “Do you need help?” she asked, hesitantly.
“It would seem so, you see, we were thrown from our horses...” she nodded.
“Follow me, you can dry off and tell me in the barn,” she stepped forward, again slightly hesitant, and stayed an arm’s reach away all the time. Ezra and Chris followed, grateful for the promise of warmth.
When they entered the barn they introduced themselves.
“It seems I forgot my manners, ma’am, please do excuse me. My name is Ezra Standish, and my friend here is Chris Larabee,” Ezra said charmingly as he grasped her small hand for a moment in his. He took a moment to examine the young lady. She was young, he would guess around 13 from her stature, but judging by her almost gaunt face and the tiny bony wrists, it seemed unlikely that stature was a good way to tell. Undernourishment likely contributed to her size. She could have been a few years older than she looked. Especially considering the fact that she seemed only slightly afraid of the two strange men she had just invited inside. But he also noticed that she had bruises on her neck that couldn't have been an accident.
“Ma’am,” Chris managed to greet her by touching his hat. He couldn’t concentrate on much of anything so he didn’t even try to keep up with the conversation. He only hoped he wasn’t frightening the child with his silence.
“I’m Grace, and I really hope I can help you both, Ezra and Chris,” she nodded to each of them. “What exactly happened?”
“We are peacekeepers in Four Corners,” Ezra looked to Grace.
“I know the place; it’s not too far from here. Maybe a day’s ride, right?” Ezra nodded as he helped Chris sit back into the bale of hay and settled down to the floor against the hay himself. The girl, Grace, sat across from them on the floor, Indian style.
“Exactly. Well we were transporting a few prisoners up to Jericho and we were just on our way back during this storm when a tree near us was struck and we were both thrown, now our horses seem to be missing and Chris here has been running a fever...” she looked concerned at the blond man, who seemed to be struggling to stay awake. “We figured our best bet would be to find somewhere to camp out for a night so we could mend a bit and then head back to Four Corners,”
“It’s perfectly okay with me if you stay here in the barn, but I have to warn you, my stepfather lives inside and if he knew you was here... he would probably shoot all three of us. So long as you stay quiet and don’t mind sleeping in the hay then you’ll - we’ll - all be fine. ‘sides, he’s been drinking so much I doubt he’ll even notice a thing,” Ezra nodded, slowly and she smiled, hoping to reassure him that it was okay. The blond man, Chris, gave her that calculating look again and she knew he had managed to pay attention to the last part of the conversation. His look was intense and she pulled at her sleeves anxiously, covering some of the bruises so he wouldn’t see. They made her self-conscious.
“Thank you, Grace,” Ezra said, seriously. She nodded.
“I’ll be right back, I’m going to see if I can’t fetch you a blanket or two,” she smiled at both of them and shut the barn door quietly, with a single backwards glance.
Once she was gone, Chris felt freer to relax his strained body into the cushioning of hay. He had a short coughing fit that left him wheezing for breath and wincing at the strain on his bruised body.
“I need to give you a cursory examination Chris,” Ezra sighed.
“Like hell, you do,” Chris glared. But it was rather unconvincing because his eyes were already at half mast. When Ezra unbuttoned the front of his shirt, Chris complied by assisting him and removing his shirt. This more than anything else, alerted Ezra of his friend’s sorry condition. His torso was bruised from the fall, but the worst of his injuries were on his arms, the burns were more severe than Ezra had thought originally and when he brushed against the arm while putting Chris’s shirt back on, the man jerked his arm away with a short hiss of pain.
“Sorry pard. It looks like a bad burn. You’re going to have to leave your shirt off. Hopefully Ms. Grace finds you a blanket to-” Ezra was interrupted by a coughing fit of his own and Chris startled from his half-asleep state.
“Shit, Ez. You sick now?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes, it would seem so. And I would blame you, but you are in worse condition so maybe you did not pass the worst of it to me,” Ezra smiled and then grew serious, “You really are sick though Chris. I don’t think it would be prudent for you to be out gallivanting around, especially without a horse, and with these injuries you have sustained... I think I should ride to Four Corners tomorrow and bring Nathan and an extra horse so we can extract you from this predicament,”
“No way, Ezra. We’re both leaving tomorrow. You heard what that girl-”
“Grace,” Ezra interrupted.
“You heard what Grace said before. Her stepfather doesn’t want us here. ‘sides, where you planning to get a horse?”
“I could borrow the one contained here in this very barn. But as to the quandary of the stepfather, I do not know how to handle that,” Ezra seemed thoughtful, “Did you notice...”
“The bruises?” Chris cut in.
“Yes, on her neck?”
“I saw some on her wrists. Must be the stepfather, she said they were the only two here,”
“I despise few things in this world, but men who mistreat and exhibit violence towards those who are unable to defend themselves certainly top the list. I cannot comprehend...” he trailed off, knowing that Chris understood what he meant. “This is an additional reason you ought to stay back. Even if I do not borrow the stallion here, when I fetch assistance we can reassess the situation and see how awful this suspected abuse truly is,” Chris nodded grudgingly, and then winced at the throbbing pain in his skull. “Now for God’s sake, go to sleep Chris,” Ezra received another glare before Chris drifted off.
A little while later, Grace returned to the barn with three blankets, one for each of them. She had hoped to return with some food but when she had opened the kitchen cupboard Thomas had grabbed her from behind.
“Sneakin’ some food, kid?” he has asked.
“N-no. I was just...”
“Shut the hell up. Now I know why I’m near out of food. You’re stealin’ when I sleep,” he didn’t wait for a response before he swung her around and released his impossibly tight hold on her arm, sending her sprawling to the floor. She saw stars when her head struck the doorway and it took all she had to get some blankets and escape to the barn, where the two peacekeepers were waiting.
She leaned against the closed barn door, still shaking a little from the confrontation. Then she was startled by Mr. Standish speaking to her in a low tone.
“Are you all right Ms. Grace?” he asked from his place in the hay. She nodded, attempting to be cheerful.
“Of course, and I brought blankets. If you don’t mind, I’m going to stay in the barn tonight as well...”
“I couldn’t mind less ma’am. Did something happen to you inside?” he asked again, noticing her hand that kept fluttering helplessly to her forehead.
“I... no. I am well enough. I’m sorry I couldn’t get any food though, Mr. Standish. Is Mr. Larabee asleep?”
“No apology is required, and yes, he has fallen asleep.” She went towards them, rather tentatively, while they spoke. She handed Ezra one blanket and unfolded the other to drape over Chris.
“Oh my,” she murmured quietly when she saw the burns on his arm. She kneeled beside the two men. “He’ll need some salve on that, right?” she looked to the gambler.
“Do you have any out here?” Ezra asked, carefully trying to make her avoid the shack.
“I do actually, I keep bandages and things out here for when I don’t want to go inside,” she walked to the other wall, where she kept a stack of boxes, with tools for tending the horse, and her own wounds.
She found clean white bandages, a bowl that she filled with the remaining water from a barrel in the barn, a cloth and some salve that she used for burns and open cuts. She kneeled by the sleeping man again and turned to his friend.
“Would you? My hands are much less clean than yours, I am sure.” She bit her lip and nodded, grabbing the cloth from the water and hesitantly placing it to the burn. Her charge hissed in protest, but did not wake. She continued, finished cleaning the dirt out and began to cover his arm with the salve. When she touched the salve to his arm he jerked awake, grabbing her wrist suddenly. She stifled a scream and struggled backwards in surprise and fear. He released her immediately, fever bright eyes darting around the room in an attempt to understand what was happening. Ezra jumped forwards.
“Chris, Jesus. It’s okay. You’re sick; Grace and I are helping you get better. Do you understand?” He received a shaky nod in return and the fevered green eyes returned to Grace.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I must have done something wrong...” she was whispering
“‘s-okay. sorry, scared you,” Chris drifted off again when she nodded at him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Standish,” she looked afraid. He reassured her that it was not her fault, and then helped her finish tending to the burns, all the while wondering how they could all get out of this mess.
"There. All finished." she smiled slightly before covering Chris with the blanket and brushing the hair from his hot forehead.
“Now maybe we ought to clean up your forehead as well, Ms. Grace?” asked Ezra patiently. Grace reddened in embarrassment and reached up to her forehead to feel the all-too-familiar stickiness of congealing blood.
“Yes, sir” she lowered her face. Ezra quickly and efficiently cleaned her wound.
“It seems we have another problem here that will need to be solved upon my return...”
he said absentmindedly. “we will need to figure out what to do with you, my dear” he shook his head. Grace said nothing, feeling as if she was being chastised for being unsuccessful with the biscuits. She was unsure what exactly the gunslinger meant.
"I hope he's going to be okay," she whispered, looking back to Mr. Larabee. "Mr. Standish, what are you going to do? Mr. Larabee can't travel in his condition. He's real sick..."
"Call me Ezra, Grace. And I'm afraid I will have to ask you another favor in regards to our problem here,"
"Yes?”
“I believe the most favorable way for all of us to escape this situation would be for me to ride into Four Corners on your horse and bring back assistance from town in order to transport Mr. Larabee home safely,” Ezra started to cough again after his long winded explanation. Grace waited for him to finish talking before she responded.
“I’m afraid,” she admitted. “What if you can’t make it back? You’re sick too Mister, I mean Ezra. You would be all alone. And then what if Mr. Larabee gets worse? What would I do?” she trailed off then begun again, “And what if Thomas noticed Henry was gone? He’d be so angry...” Ezra frowned at this.
“I admit this is a flawed plan, but I know I will make it back, and I’m sure Chris will survive until then. But I did not think about Mister, what was his name?”
“Bradshaw,” she supplied.
“I did not think about Mr. Bradshaw discovering the missing horse. What do you think the likelihood of this happening would be?”
“Not too likely I suppose. He doesn’t come out here much. Mostly he’s in there, drinking,” Ezra leaned back, thoughtfully.
“Will you be willing to take the chance? If not I assure you we can vacate your property at once,” he said. He wanted to be sure the girl understood that she didn’t have to help them.
“I’m willing to help you. I just hope... I hope this plan works Ezra,”
“As do I, ma’am,” he nodded to her. He felt his cough growing to be more of a problem as he started to fall asleep and hoped it would be less of a problem in the morning.
DAY6>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Ezra woke up coughing, a terribly deep cough that seemed to shake his entire frame. Grace was tending to the horse, Henry, he reminded himself. When she noticed he was awake she smiled sadly at him.
“Good morning Mr. Standish. I see your illness has not abated.”
“Good morning,” he smiled at her. She was more polite than the company he usually kept, especially compared to the surly gunslinger he was currently traveling with. “I’m afraid it has not,”
“Do you still plan to depart this morning?”
“Yes, I believe my prompt departure is our most favorable option in this predicament. Is your... guardian currently sentient or will I be okay to ride out at this moment?”
“I’ll have to check,” she stiffened. “Be back in a moment,” she slipped out the barn door. Chris woke again when it slammed behind her from the heavy wind. The rain had stopped but the wind was growing stronger every second.
“Ez?” Chris struggled to sit up, groggily. Ezra pushed him back down, firmly.
“Stay lying down Mr. Larabee, you are ill and sitting up will simply make things worse,” Ezra said. He stopped struggling and had a short coughing fit.
“She okay?” he asked when he was done.
“Yes Chris. Now listen, I am going to be leaving this homestead promptly on the paint and you will be staying here. I’ll bring Nathan and whoever else is there so we can resolve this situation and bring you home,” at the look on Chris’s face he shook his head. “No Larabee, your fever is only getting worse, you will not be putting yourself at risk when I have a say in it. Besides, you couldn’t stay in a saddle right now if your life depended on it. Which, in this case, it would,” Ezra started coughing again. “These verbal... tirades... of mine... need to stop,” he gasped afterwards. Chris was already asleep.
Grace returned promptly. She had smuggled three biscuits from the kitchen and she handed one to Ezra.
“Mr. Standish, Thomas is dead to the world right now so you should probably ride out. If you don’t mind, I’ll saddle up Henry,” she hurried to put on the saddle while Ezra checked Chris’ bandages one last time. He swore quietly when he noticed the swelling and reddening of infection and checked the worsening fever.
“Goodbye Mr. Larabee, I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he said to the sleeping man. Then he said goodbye to Grace and rode out on the compliant horse. Grace watched him ride out, hugging her arms around herself. She had been charmed by the peacekeeper and she prayed that he, and Henry, made it back to her and Mr. Larabee alive.
She was a little afraid of Mr. Larabee. It was hard to admit for her, but he had frightened her even before he had lashed out. She knew he wasn’t a danger to her when aware of his surroundings because Ezra hopefully would not have deserted them both if that was the case, but in his fevered state anything could happen. But he also had to eat, and he was a very sick man, so she kneeled by him in the hay and shook his shoulder gently.
“Mr. Larabee?” she shook his shoulder again, a little harder. “Mr. Larabee?”
“What?” he opened hazel eyes, groggily and struggled to focus on the young girl. “Where’s Ezra?”
“Mr. Standish rode out already, Mr. Larabee. You should drink some water, and maybe eat a little?” she was unsure of how to give him the water. Could he drink himself? Should she help? He tried sitting up and she instinctively helped to support him. He stiffened at the unfamiliarity and she winced internally, wondering if she had done the wrong thing.
“Thanks,” he said, dispelling some of her anxiety. She relaxed a little when he reached for the cup she held. He drank nearly all the water and she handed him the biscuit, hoping it was enough. She wanted to keep hers in case she got hungry or she was unable to get Mr. Larabee any more food. Besides, if more than three biscuits went missing Thomas was sure to notice. He finished the biscuit and thanked her again.
“I’m sorry if I frightened you before,” he said, as she helped him to lie down again.
“It’s alright Mr. Larabee,”
“Chris,” he corrected before starting to cough. He was starting to feel like sleep again when he noticed something. “Your head okay?” She reached up to her forehead, confused.
“My head?”
“Yes ma’am. What happened?” She felt the sticky remnants of her painful encounter with the door-frame on her temple and winced. All traces of lethargy were wiped from Larabee’s system in one fell swoop as he realized this could not have been an accident. The fresh hand-print bruise on her arm was evidence enough.
“Nothing, it’s okay,” she brushed him off.
“Did your stepfather do that?” he asked, directly. She opened and closed her mouth, twice.
“I... I just... Yes,” she finally answered. She looked down at her hands that were worrying the hem of her skirt. “It’s okay though. He gives me a place to live. I’d be alone without him. It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt bad,” She didn’t understand how he had known. Or why he asked. It didn’t matter that Thomas hurt her, he was allowed. He told her that each time. It was discipline for things she did wrong. It was a punishment. It was her fault. All of it was. Her brother leaving, her mama’s death. She deserved it. But she still felt the tears escape.
“You’re only a child...” Chris said quietly as she hurriedly wiped her eyes. “Do you have any other family?”
“Yes. A brother. But he’s gone, he left near 6 years ago,” she was still trying to clear her face from tears. She didn’t know why she had to cry in front of this stranger. But now he had an odd look on his tired face. He looked concerned, and sad. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m used to it,” she tried to make him understand but a change came over his expression. His jaw clenched and he had a hard look in his eyes. She felt afraid. He looked angry, and his jaw muscles twitched the same way Thomas’s did when he was about to hit her.
Chris felt nauseous, and this time it had nothing to do with the concussion. He was sickened by the entire situation. The girl had been abused for a long time, her attitude was complacent. She seemed to think that this type of abuse was allowed, that it was her fault and not the fault of the bastard who had done this to her. His hands clenched along with his jaw and he tried not to imagine killing the man who had done something like this to a kid. He noticed suddenly that he was scaring her, and that his anger was taking a lot out of him. He needed to calm down. He needed sleep.
“Try not to go back in there, okay?” he asked her. “You don’t deserve it. He’s bad…” he tried to keep his eyes open but he was losing steam fast. She noticed.
“It’s okay Mr. Larabee, just go to sleep,” she relaxed when his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened. She covered him with Ezra’s blanket as well as his own when he started to shiver. Then she fell asleep across the room, leaned against the stall door. She woke to a sound she couldn’t identify. Then she heard it again. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness in the barn. There was moonlight leaking through the crack in the door and she could finally make out the dark form of Chris Larabee in the hay. He was struggling against an unseen enemy with weak fevered movements. She went to him and kneeled down, speaking in soft tones.
“Chris, it’s alright. You’re safe here. Shh, it’s okay Mr. Larabee,” she avoided his flailing arm and put a cool hand on his hot forehead.
“Sarah?” he moaned.
“Shh, go to sleep,” she held his hand, wondering who Sarah was. He still wouldn’t rest.
“Get to… Adam… Sarah… need to,” he croaked, painfully. She started to hum softly, the same way she did to calm Henry and, miraculously, it worked. Chris started to calm down, and soon he was asleep again and so was she.
DAY7 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
When she woke she was next to Larabee with her hand on his still burning forehead. She was worried now, she was hoping his fever would have broken during the night but it clearly had not. She needed a bowl and a washrag from inside the shack. She left the barn, quietly and padded on her thin shoes across the hard packed dirt towards the porch. She climbed the steps and listened, carefully, at the door for Thomas. He wasn’t making any noise so she slipped inside and walked into the kitchen, looking over her shoulder for him. Then she walked straight into him. He was leaning against the doorjamb, lying in wait. She backed up quickly, already apologizing. She wasn’t sure what to expect now, he wasn’t even drunk, just angry.
“What are you doing?” he loomed over her, his strong arms and chest blocking the light from the kitchen. She swallowed her panic and responded.
“Just getting some water, sir,” she stumbled backwards and righted herself, now standing with her back to the front door.
“To go with those biscuits?” his normally dull blue eyes flashed dangerously.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been so hungry…” she hoped he didn’t go into the barn. As long as he didn’t go in there it would be fine.
“I told you only two biscuits from my kitchen every week. Otherwise you just don’t eat anything. And now that’s what’s gonna happen. No more food, kid. I catch you lookin’ in here at all, I’ll kill ya,”
“But sir, how-” He backhanded her, stifling the rest of her halfhearted plea. “Yes sir,” she complied, holding her face with one hand.
“Now get out,” she scrambled out the door and back into the barn. She’d have to make do with the supplies they had to care of Mr. Larabee. When she had finished cleaning and re-bandaging Larabee’s slightly infected arm she checked his fever with her hand on his forehead. He was still burning, too hot for comfort.
Grace found that without a kitchen and without Henry, she didn’t have much to do. So she fixed the leak in the barn roof. Then she checked on Mr. Larabee and leaned back in the hay to daydream. It was comforting to think that one day she would be away from the shack completely and not just taking a break from it like she was now. But some part of her thought she was already finished. It seemed to her that the already terrifyingly unstable relationship she had with her stepfather was rapidly deteriorating and despite the bruising effects, she was almost glad.
She wondered sometimes what was keeping her with him, and she usually figured it was Henry and food. So now that both were gone she felt the pull of Texas once again. It wasn’t that there was anything in Texas that she wanted, but it was the feeling of it. The feeling of family.
Texas to Grace was the smell of old leather and a gruff, laughing shadow of a tall father she had barely known. Texas was the smile lines and concerned green eyes of the kindhearted mother she had learned everything from. And Texas was evenings fishing with her curly haired big brother and summer afternoons playing hide and seek with him. Even if he was always seeker and it never seemed to take long before he swooped in and threw her over his shoulder because he had found her yet again. Texas was a feeling she ached for; a feeling of home. It was not a state, but a state of being.
Suddenly she decided. She would go home to Texas. Even if it held nothing for her, she could always remember what it once was. And maybe she would see her brother one day. She surged with hope. When Ezra rode back with Henry and Chris was safely in his friend’s care, she would ride off without looking back and she would never let Thomas Bradshaw hurt her again.
When Chris woke again she was humming softly to herself as she sat on the dusty ground braiding pieces of long grass from the weeds. She looked up when he coughed and lowered her eyebrows, concerned.
“How are you feeling Chris?”
“Not too badly,” he tried to sit up but his stomach rolled and he ended up retching in the hay, but he hadn’t eaten anything so it was only dry heaves. The room was spinning and her hands on his shoulders guided him carefully back to lie on the ground.
“I’m so sorry,” she said quietly as she offered water. He drank slowly, it cooled his burning throat. “I wish I could help you somehow,”
“You have, Grace. I’ll be fine,” he looked up at her when the room had stopped spinning. There was another bruise; a new one darkened the side of her face. He decided not to confront her directly. It was quiet for a moment. “Why do you stay with your stepfather?” he asked. He was breaking his own rule. He never shared a thing about himself so why should he expect others to share? But he felt he had to know.
“I have nowhere else to go,” she answered simply. He thought she was closing the matter but suddenly she spoke again. “I would go to Texas,” she smiled to herself. He thought of Vin when she smiled that secret smile.
“Why Texas?”
“I lived there once. I had a family,”
“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”
“My papa died when I was young. Nobody spoke about it much. My brother worked so we were alright for a while. Then a nice, handsome man started courting mama two years later, and they got married. He changed some when they were married. Got scarier, and much more of a drunk. He still treated us mostly okay, then my brother got real mad and left cause he thought mama shouldn’t a married him,” she swallowed, looking to see if Chris was still interested. “Then we moved here and mama got sick. I tried to take care of her but I didn’t know how and she died. That was three years ago this December. So my brother’s out there somewhere. Leastways I hope he is. Thomas said he was dead, but I don’t think I believe him. Vin’s out there somewhere. I just know it,” she watched Chris’s face change to shock.
“Vin?”
“Yeah, that’s my big brother,”
“Jesus Christ,” Larabee shook his head, slowly. “what’s your second name, kid?”
“Tanner,” she blurted quickly. She watched his face morph into some semblance of a smile. “You know him,” she could hear her blood in her ears. This was impossible.
“Yes. I’ve known him a while. He’s one of the peacekeepers. And you’re his sister… We’ll take you with us to Four Corners… to him,” There were tears in her eyes.
“Please.” She said, almost unconsciously. “This is true?”
“Yes. I swear it,” he understood her hesitance. It was too good to be true. She hugged him suddenly, mindful of his injuries.
“Thank you,” she whispered. She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I miss him so much,” her smile was glowing. “What’s he like now?”
“I can’t really describe him,” Chris smiled, “But he’s a good man, Grace,” she fought the tears and handed him the water.
“Drink some more. You look a little pale. Oh Vin… I can’t even think about it,” She smiled again. That night when she went to sleep, she was still smiling.
DAY8 >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The next morning Chris woke to a soft touch on his forehead. His immediate instinct was that it must be Sarah. Then he got his bearings and swallowed the pang of sorrow, opening his eyes to find Grace leaning over him. Her long brown curly hair was darker than Vin’s, but now he noticed the resemblance.
“’s everythin’ okay?” he croaked, throat dry. She nodded, but the worried countenance remained as she put the water to his lips. He sat up and drank the water; it soothed the burning in his throat slightly. He looked at her, questioningly.
“I’m worried,” he waited for her to explain. She sighed and continued. “Mr. Standish should have arrived this morning. It’s mid-day now,” He nodded, knowing he would return soon. “And Thomas is becoming agitated inside the shack,” This was more worrying to Chris.
“You think he’ll come out here?” he asked. He didn’t think he had the strength to protect the child in his weakened condition. She shrugged helplessly.
“But if he sees that Henry’s gone… or that you’re here,” she shook her head, eyebrows drawn and didn’t continue. Then a door slammed and they both realized they were about to see his reaction firsthand. Grace’s blue eyes widened in fear.
“Stay quiet and don’t move,” she whispered, frantically to Chris. “No matter what,” she covered him completely with both blankets and stood suddenly. And the barn door swung out.
Thomas staggered in, drunk enough to affect his perception, but not enough to affect his aim. The moment he entered and spotted his stepdaughter, he struck her in the face, hard enough to make her lip bleed. She straightened, silently and waited. Chris struggled not to move, his gun was still strapped to the belt that lay just beyond his fingertips. Then Thomas noticed the empty stall and roared.
“Where’s my horse, kid?” he picked her up by her shoulders and slammed her violently against the wall of the first stall.
“I’m sorry. Someone borrowed him,” she spoke clearly, with only a slight tremor to her voice. His vile breath polluted the air as he breathed in her face, glazed brown eyes glaring threateningly.
“You little lying bitch,” Thomas hissed, his huge fist drove into her stomach, forcing her to gasp for air. Then Chris slowly removed the blankets, revealing the back of the violent man. He gripped his weapon and swallowed when he noticed the weak shaking grip caused by his fevered state and the gun in the other man’s belt. Then, without warning, Thomas threw his stepdaughter into the far wall of the barn, she landed limply and he started towards her again.
“Leave her be,” Chris growled, half intentionally and half because of his dry throat. The man spun, fear evident on his face.
“Who in the hell?” he asked as he reached for his gun. Chris pulled his up and aimed, trying to stop the shaking.
“Chris Larabee, Mr. Bradshaw, now drop your weapon and leave her be,” he growled again. The fear was still there. But it was masked by drunken stupidity and confidence. The man’s finger tightened on the trigger and Chris fired; the report of his gun quickly following the report of Bradshaw’s. He felt it as he heard it. A searing pain erupted in his shoulder and he saw his shot go wild. The man laughed, coming forward and stomping his boot onto the hand holding Chris’s gun. Chris felt the fingers breaking and had to watch as the man kicked his gun away. Bradshaw lifted his gun again as if to execute Chris, but he was never given the chance.
Grace was welcomed into consciousness by the sound of gunshots. She immediately understood the situation and stood, despite her dizziness. She launched herself onto her stepfathers back in the only way she knew to prevent the sick man from being killed. He threw her off and then attacked.
He started by throwing her into the wall once more. She watched through blurry eyes as he slammed his foot down on her lower leg and she listened to it snap. She was somewhere else by his third hit.
Chris could not seem to sit up, and he could not reach his weapon, so he was forced to watch as Bradshaw beat his stepdaughter. He heard her leg snap and watched her eyes unfocus from the pain and then close. He forced his wounded arm forward with feral intensity and grasped his gun with broken fingers. He was bathing in adrenaline so he barely noticed the pain when he lifted it, but gasped anyways. The man spun and raised his own weapon, but this time Chris was faster and the man staggered backwards with blood beginning to cover his front, and Chris collapsed backwards into the hay from sheer exhaustion.
Ezra rode with a sense of extreme urgency that was worrying Vin. Ezra was never in a hurry. Unless something was very seriously wrong. Vin kept up, gamely, but without understanding, until they heard a gunshot from the homestead that had just come into view and the overworked horses were forced to even greater speeds. They arrived and both Vin and Ezra leapt off their horses, running into the barn, which they had previously identified as the source of the gunshots. There was another shot immediately before they entered.
The sight that greeted them was unexpected to say the least. There was Chris, barely conscious, half covered by blankets in the hay, blood pouring out of his shoulder. Then there was a large, unknown man standing with a smoking gun in hand, the front of his tan colored shirt now blossoming with scarlet. And there was a small, unmoving figure against the wall with long dark hair. Three things happened almost at once. Ezra moved towards the figure at the wall when Chris struggled towards her, frantically. The bleeding man raised his gun towards Ezra. And Vin shot the man dead.
Ezra nodded to Vin, quickly and continued to the child. Vin went to Chris.
“You okay, pard?” he asked, already checking him over. Chris was straining to go to the girl Ezra was checking on and Vin looked over, watching Ezra carefully checking her breathing.
“I’ll be fine. Help me get to Grace. He shot her,” Vin stifled a reaction to the name and the revelation until Chris continued, “Vin, she’s your sister,” his gut clenched.
“Impossible. She’s in Texas…” the tracker’s eye’s were filled with fear and his jaw clenched, but he helped Chris stand anyways, noting the heat of the man’s skin. When Ezra turned her on her back, gently, Vin sucked in a breath. He recognized her delicate features, thin lips and dark curly hair. It was Grace. His little Gracie.
“This is bad. She is breathing but I don’t know how long that will last… Her leg is broken, her head is bleeding pretty badly and he shot her in the shoulder here, same as Mr. Larabee,” Ezra’s fingers ghosted over the bleeding wound. He tied it off with a strip of cloth and then looked to Vin. The tracker was pale as a sheet and his shaking hands gripped the girls smaller hand. “Vin?”
“She’s my sister, Ez. My Gracie,” he whispered. Ezra looked back and forth between them and nodded, calmly processing this new information. “Shit, look at her. She’s just a kid. A little girl. How can we fix this?”
“We’ll take her to Nathan,” Chris said with authority. Ezra turned at the sound of his voice.
“Mr. Larabee. Please lie down,” Ezra pushed the weaker man down, easily and Chris glared. “We will do no such thing,” Ezra took charge. “Mr. Tanner here will bring the young lady back to Four Corners on his horse, I will ride ahead and you will stay-”
“Hell no,” Chris cut him off.
“Chris you are in no condition to-”
“How long?” Vin asked quietly. They looked at him. He was still staring at Grace’s still form. Ezra cleared his throat.
“What do you mean?”
“How long do we have to get her to Nathan before…?” There was silence for a moment.
“I don’t know, Mr. Tanner. I think that she will make it, but I am no doctor,” Ezra shrugged, helplessly.
“Let’s fix her the best we can and ride out. Chris, you okay to ride?” Vin asked. Larabee nodded but when Vin didn’t turn from his sister, he spoke.
“I’m good to ride. Do we have a horse?”
“Yes, we brought ever-faithful Henry along to return him but it seems this vermin will no longer be needing a mode of transportation,” Ezra replied. Vin tore his eyes from his sister and looked to Chris, who nodded. Ezra watched the silent exchange. He had prepared a splint much like the one’s he had seen Nathan use and looked at the two other peacemakers.
“Hold her. I’ll set the leg,” Vin held down her arms and Chris pressed her upper legs. Ezra gritted his teeth and sent up a quick prayer, then set the bone. She jerked, gasping from pain. She opened her eyes, looking panicked.
“Gracie?” Vin asked, softly.
“Vin?” she asked. Her eyes refused to focus. She recognized her brother through the haze.
“Yeah, honey. I’m here baby girl,” he was choking on his words.
“Hurts, Vin,” she whimpered. “Thought I was dead like you and mama and papa,”
“No, Gracie. You’re going to be fine,” she was asleep before he finished. Vin took a shaky breath and clenched his fists. Then he was steady and cool once again.
“Let’s go. I’ll ride with her,” he stood and picked her up, easily, then headed for Peso. Chris and Ezra offered no resistance. They rode out together five minutes later, heading for home.
Vin kept his arm firmly around his Gracie’s torso to keep her from falling. She woke twice on the way back, once she was crying.
“Please, I’m sorry… hurts, please,” she whimpered. He whispered comforting words into her ear and soon she stopped crying and fell asleep again, breathing still slightly hitched. The second time she was just shaking.
“Vin’s home momma,” was all he could grasp from her distracted mumbles. She was done waking up when they arrived in Four Corners. He slid off of his horse as Chris and Ezra rode in behind him. JD ran out of the jail, looking frantic, with his bowler hat jammed over his dark hair.
Vin swiftly pulled Grace back into his arms. “Nathan?” he asked, almost frantic now.
“He’s at the church. Get to the clinic, I’ll get him,” JD ran off, passing a confused Buck. Vin strode to the clinic. Buck approached Chris.
“What the hell’s goin’ on?” he asked. Chris grunted in reply and Buck noticed the pained way he held himself and the slow, jerking way he got off of his horse.
“Mr. Wilmington, would you take our horses? Because it would seem Mr. Larabee will be needing some assistance to reach the clinic,” he asked. Buck took the reins, still looking dumbfounded.
“’m fine,” Chris proclaimed as he got off his horse, then he nearly collapsed and Ezra grasped him by the shoulders and steered him towards the clinic. He made it to the bed and was immediately asleep.
When he woke next he found Ezra seated next to him, looking smug.
“Ah, Mr. Larabee, you have decided to join us after all,” he grinned. Chris grunted.
“Everyone good?” he asked. Ezra’s grin fell from his face.
“Miss Tanner has not yet awakened from her slumber, but with the care of her brother and Mr. Jackson I am confident she will make a full recovery,” he nodded, convincingly towards the other side of the room, where Vin was asleep, slumped in a wooden chair adjacent to his sister’s bed. He looked troubled.
“Vin okay?”
“Not quite, this seems to have shocked him,” Ezra stated, at Chris’s look he quickly amended, “Unsurprisingly of course.” Nathan entered then.
“Chris, how you feeling?”
“Fine,” he shrugged, wincing when the pain in his shoulder spiked.
“Fine as you felt before you fainted?” JD grinned as he entered behind Nathan. Chris sent him a look and he stopped smiling. Nathan shook his head and shoved a cup in his face.
“Drink it. And it ain’t horse piss,” he said sternly. Chris grumbled, but accepted the cup with shaking hands and swallowed all of it. He could use all the help he could get to start feeling like normal again. He started to cough afterward and Nathan looked over, sharply.
“Jesus. Would you stop fussing. I’m fine. Just a cough,” He growled at the healer. Nathan pressed his lips together and shook his head before moving on to Ezra, who was laughing.
“You should be in bed as well.” The smile left Ezra’s face immediately.
“I am perfectly all right, Mr. Jackson,” Ezra looked so convincing that Nathan just gave up on him and moved on to Grace. Vin woke during his examination.
“She okay, Nate?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes, blearily.
“It looks like it. Was a pretty clean break in the leg so far as I can tell. The head wound healed real nicely already and it’s only been one day. It’s the shoulder that I’m a little worried for. She’s got an infection there, but the bullet went straight through so it should heal in around a week or two,” Vin nodded, grasping his little sisters hand with all his might. He couldn’t let her go again.
“I’m sorry. Please. Please! I didn’t mean to. I’ll fix it. Please, stop!” She was crying and mumbling into her curled up hands. Vin woke with a start in the wobbly clinic chair and had to slam his feet quickly onto the ground to avoid tipping over. His sister was turned to her side, trembling, with tears running down her fever-pink face. He moved forward and gathered her into his arms, taking care not to jostle her leg or to touch her shoulder. He stroked her hair slowly and hummed to her, caring for her as if she was a startled pony.
Vin had always hated listening to fever-dreams. He remembered last time Chris had been real sick how he had shouted for hours about saving his darling Sarah and Adam. And now he had to wake every few hours to hear the horrors of his sisters past since he left.
So far he had gathered from the accounts of Chris and Ezra and from Graces fevered pleas that her time with their stepfather had been horrific. She had lived in the barn, was starved, overworked and beaten constantly. Nate had given his own account of the child’s past based on his medical examination that was bad enough to make his hair stand on end; he hadn’t let go of his sisters hand since. Vin prayed that the most recent beating had been the very worst.