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"The rosy hearth, the lamplight's narrow beam,
The meditation that is rather dream,
With looks that lose themselves in cherished looks;
The hour of steaming tea and banished books;
The sweetness of the evening at an end"
(Paul Verlaine)
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As he came up the side street toward the boarding house, Buck slowed his pace, felt in his coat pocket. There were two wires folded into a small packet amongst the loose coins and fluff and he pinched the paper between his thumb and forefinger, sucked in a breath.
It was late evening, well after suppertime. He’d gone out to get a beer and, more importantly, some news. The trip had taken him to the telegraph office and the jail and now, armed with new information from both sources, he wasn’t at all sure a beer had calmed him down enough to share all of it. Especially not with Chris.
‘Well it’s good news and bad news,’ he practised to himself. ‘Yep, that’s about the size of it, stud. On the one hand it’s a help, and on the other it’s a ....’
He glanced up before he took a step on to the boardwalk.
Whenever Buck came back after dark, he wound around the town a certain way, just so’s he’d make this same approach. Could look up as he drew near and see the light burning in the upstairs window. It could be seen from the main street too, but the small window on the side of the house was where Nathan set up his night light. It was a solid brass lamp on three legs, its shade a globe of frosted, patterned glass patched brown by the heat.
The light from it shimmered behind the folds of the drape, or else flickered more sharply against the undressed window, a contrast to the black and the shadows.
Nathan kept the lamp burning high when he was sitting next to it in the lumpy old easy chair, some medical book in his lap. He’d been busy re-reading everything he’d read before, had borrowed more books from the kindly but pessimistic doctor. Not all of it was about gunshot wounds. Musta read about every word ever written on that already, and then some. The image of Nathan sitting near that lamp, eyes squinted in weary concentration, holding the book away from him so he could get the best light, was about burned into Buck’s head. Nathan said even though things were looking better, he just needed to keep learning, to keep reading... respiratory infection, fever, scar tissue, temperature regulation, recuperation diets... Buck didn’t know much about any of that. He just knew that he liked to look up as he returned, see the light burning.
Sometimes it was dimmer. Usually later on into the night. Buck knew that meant Nathan wasn’t reading anymore, or doing anything like changing dressings or drip-feeding the patient. It meant he, or Chris, or Vin, were resting in the easy chair, quiet. Watching, waiting for the stirrings and mutterings to become full consciousness, which Nathan said was the next step. Long as the lamp was burning somehow or other, Buck felt like they were still in the game. Even though it didn’t make sense, Buck had always figured that little window would look different somehow, if Ezra had taken a downturn, if he’d... gone.
Vin was padding down the stairs when he got inside the house. He looked like a man on the search for a drink.
“All quiet?” Buck asked him. As usual his heart hammered against his ribs at the question he hardly dared pose sometimes. He thought himself optimistic in general, and more so since spending so much time hanging around with J.D. rather than Chris, but the last few weeks had made him wonder. Something about Ella Gaines seemed to turn everything bad.
“Just looked in. Breathing easier,” Vin responded, voice husky from fatigue. “Ain’t exactly sitting up and passin’ the time of day, but he don’t sound so god-awful bad.” As he arrived at the foot of the stairs he arched against the stiffness in his back, made a face. “Got Chris to go lay down for a spell. He don’t seem able to trust what he’s told. Nathan’s fussin’ around up there but reckon he could do with a break.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at Buck’s face. “You got something?”
Buck pinched the papers in his pocket again. He was relieved to hear Chris was resting. Somehow he hadn’t wanted him to be the first person to hear.
“Judge is definitely on his way,” he said. “Seems sure he can sort all this out. He’s comin’ with Josiah and J.D. They ain’t happy stayin’ away any longer. Josiah thinks he’ll be needed and J.D.’s gettin’ in a twist. Only, none of ‘em can get here for another couple of days.”
“Uh-huh.” Vin took that news without obvious pleasure. As if he already suspected the further caveat.
Buck’s shoulders slumped just a little. That was the good news. Now for the other. “And the sheriff says someone’s only done gone and put up bail. She may be... ah damn it, that bitch may be out on the street again come morning.”
Vin’s jaw tightened and he got a kind of self-contained, deadly look in his eyes. Buck could see the same thought in them he’d had himself. The same image, of crazy-mad Ella Gaines marching up to the boarding-house with a shotgun or some such, coming to try and finish what she’d started. To get what she wanted. Whatever the hell that was.
“Chris?” he asked.
“Seems to me like the first thing she’ll do is either try and talk to him, or get him arrested. Either way, figure we need to be ready. Last few times I seen her she couldn’t seem to make up her mind if she wants to kill him or kiss him.”
Vin rubbed the back of his neck. He looked up the stairs, then back at Buck. “Let’s let him sleep a while longer. He needs it. Hell knows we’ll have our work cut out to stop him goin’ after her. And if he can’t about strangle her with his bare hands he just might not care if he has to fight one of us for a gun to shoot her with.”
Buck thought Vin was maybe right, even though part of him still hoped Chris hadn’t lost his sense that bad. Not now he had something better to fight for. What they all had between them back in their own town, what he maybe had found, crazy as it was, with Ezra.
“Sure wish we could get the Judge here quicker. Get a stop on her walking free.”
“May need to get Ezra away from here too. Be good to have Josiah and J.D.’s help on that.”
“Hell, Vin, Nathan’s pleased he’s doin’ better, but he still ain’t in any state to travel. Chris won’t let him out of his sight either.”
“He will - if Ezra’s in more danger here.”
Buck could see they were going to have some tough decisions to make. He was damned glad the other two were on their way. He’d missed the kid something fierce and much as it hurt to think on it, he figured Josiah was right. He was going to be needed. Whatever hailstorm was coming would be written in all their life stories, one way or another. They needed to stand up together as it blew in, like they’d done at Ella Gaines’ damned fancy house when they’d nearly lost Chris. And this time around there were two of them to protect, because Chris and Ezra were... well they were something. Something of a piece. Something that weren’t quite... regular but looked like it might be part of all their life stories too.
“You goin’ out?”
“Just need some space,” Vin said, guarded. “May call in at the saloon.”
“I’ll go and spell Nathan for a while. May send him on down to join you.”
“You do that,” Vin said with the faintest touch of a smile, even though it was kind of a bitter one. “When he hears about ... he’ll need it.”
That was true, too. Nathan, despite all his rules and regulations about quiet in the sickroom, nearly had a conniption when he heard. Balled up the towel he was holding in his hands and threw it, hard, right across the room so it slapped down on the table, nearly upset the window lamp. It made the light in the room judder, almost as if the news was having some seismic effect.
“She ain’t gettin’ near either of ‘em,” he said, surprising Buck with the fierceness in his tone. “We ain’t dragged Ezra this far to lose him to some lunatic who don’t know how the world turns. And she done hurt Chris enough.”
“I know it.” Buck clapped a hand on the back of his shoulder, squeezed it tight.. “Vin knows it too, and the others. We’ll be ready.”
He looked over at the bed and Nathan followed his gaze and then let a sigh rumble out.
“Chris still restin’?”
“Vin says so. I’ll stop here for awhile, you go on out, get some grub.” He tried a smile, like Vin had managed, but found his mouth tight. “Vin says he’ll stand you a beer.”
Nathan, as ever, seemed like he couldn’t quite make the decision to go. As if that would be failing his patient somehow. He was nothing if not smart, though. Knew his own limits and what helped in the long run.
“I may just take him up on that,” he said. “Ain’t much to tell you here. Ezra’s sticking with us... if only he’d...”
“Yeah.”
If only he’d rouse up properly, not stay so far away.
Buck motioned Nathan to go. Watched him snag his brown jacket off the peg on the back of the door and slip out, shutting it quietly behind him. Then Buck took off his own coat, laid it over the dresser and went to sit in the chair by the bed. He’d do a spell here, he decided. Talking nonsense, which it seemed he was pretty good at. Letting Ezra know he wasn’t alone, that there was a familiar voice nearby. Then maybe he’d try an hour in the easy chair. He could still keep an eye on things from there, could maybe clean his gun. Might need it soon.
Just like countless times before, he picked up the cloth from the nightstand and dipped it in the basin of cool water that stood there. He wrung it out, folded it into a pad and was just about to lay it on Ezra’s forehead when he saw something he hadn’t seen before.
Open eyes.
For a second he thought it was just a trick of the light. There was a slight draught in the room, and it made the lamps gutter sometimes, sending quivering shadows across the walls, making the world unreal for a moment or two.
There was a smaller lamp set on the nightstand by the bed and Buck reached over to turn it right up. So he could see for sure.
And it was true. Almost like a magic spell had been cast, Ezra had roused up. His eyes were open and he looked like he was trying to get the room in focus.
“Well hell,” Buck said on a breath. All the weary hours Chris had spent in here, wide awake, or half awake, or barely conscious, his hand wrapped around Ezra’s like you’d have to fight him if you were thinking of separating them, the set of his shoulders so wild sometimes that they feared to approach... all that... well, Buck couldn’t think of it any other way than devotion... willing the ornery son-of-a-gun in the bed to first breathe a little steadier, and then open his eyes and say something... all that and it wasn’t him here the moment Ezra did.
There really was no mistake. Ezra’s head moved a little towards the source of light, the sound of Buck’s voice. His face wasn’t much brighter than it had been all along but Buck knew the lamplight made it look worse than it would by day, skin papery and sunken from the blood loss, cheeks hollowed out and deathly dark rings under his eyes... but he was awake at last. Properly awake and seeing things. He frowned, a grumpy, typical Ezra kind of frown that sent a wash of powerful relief through Buck’s veins. Made him feel almost shaky.
“Yep,” he said, having to clear his throat to get any more words out. “You’re awake, you’re alive.”
Ezra blinked sluggishly. The low lamplight burning from across the room reflected the glaze of fever in the green, but also the awareness.
An almost painful smile tugged the corner of Buck’s mouth. He had a strong desire to jump up and run down the hall to fetch Chris, but he also knew the virtue of keeping the room quiet and calm. Lord knows Nathan had been drumming it into them all the last few days.
“It’s me, old Buck sitting here.” He paused for a second, the smile widening at the further spark of recognition. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Reckon you’ve got a thirst all right... here, let me do somethin’ about that.” Buck cast about anxiously for a cup. He knew fluid was the right thing to offer. Ezra was going to be weak, hellish weak, wasn’t likely to be awake for long, but if he could just get him to drink down some water... then he’d go and wake Chris, tell him the news. This news that he knew would trump all other news, good and bad.
He slipped out of the chair, crossed the room quickly, almost clumsy in his haste. Over by the small window was a jug and basin with a small tin cup. Nathan had all his paraphernalia laid out, the little spoons and glass droppers gleaming under the full halo of the lamp.
Half expecting Ezra to have fallen asleep again by the time he got back he was glad to see his eyes were fully open, had followed his progress across the room and back. What’s more, he was trying for a few words, but nothing came out at first. Just a rough wheeze with no more power behind it than a mouse with a bad chest cold.
“Don’t you go tirin’ yaself out jawing right now,” Buck reproved. He sat down again, slid his hand under Ezra’s neck, not liking the heat against his hand, but figuring that at least it was something Nathan could work against. He held the cup towards Ezra’s mouth but he tried again to talk, stubborn as ever. Seemed like he had some question, a real important one too.
“What’s that, hoss? Didn’t I jus’ tell you not to go tiring yaself out? Ain’t nothing; for you to worry about. Everyone’s fine, Chris is fine, just sleeping.” He held the cup away, bent forward to try and hear. “What happened to what?”
Ezra managed something, but hardly more than half a word. Then his eyes slid shut again.
And dang it but Buck couldn’t say what it was. Couldn’t tell if he’d asked for Chris or if he’d asked about the dress. Could have been either one or something else. And if it was the latter Buck didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Didn’t know if it meant Ezra had lost his sanity, was delirious, or was just being Ezra.
He set the cup down with a sigh. Damn shame he hadn’t managed to get some more water inside him. Must be fair shriveled up in there by now. And still feeling hotter than a griddle.
“I’m going to go get Chris, he’ll want to be here if you decide to wake up and start chattin’ again.” He remembered it was likely, and preferable, now he’d roused once, that Ezra would be drifting in and out for a spell. “And listen here... I know you ain’t better yet, know you won’t be well for a while. But you made it back and knew who I was. So don’t you dare go scarin’ Chris one second more.”
Buck stood up slowly, almost not believing what had just happened.
There were a couple of things he needed to do. Get on down to the saloon for sure, let Nathan and Vin know there was a damn fine reason to have another drink. After all Nathan had tried, all the care he'd given, Buck could hardly wait to let him know that things were definitely looking up, that they were maybe far enough along he could start boiling up one of his funny-smelling teas now. And Vin. He'd sounded so down in the mouth Buck felt mighty glad he’d be able to put some life back into those wary, hurting eyes. That was important. But not the most important. To Buck the most important thing was likely lying in a restless daze under the comforter in his room, head full of hell knew what mess.
He hesitated by the door. It always felt wrong to be leaving Ezra alone, even for a few minutes. He didn’t look like he was resting easy exactly, but he wasn’t grasping for air anymore and there was something different about him. Something... better. Like he was closer.
The news about Ella Gaines could wait, just for a while. God damn her and every hair on her twisted head. At least while Chris was asleep he wouldn’t have to face knowing she was a few hours from being free.
But still. Let her go to hell. Whatever else was brewing out there in the dark, Buck wanted to make sure that it was nobody but Chris sitting here in the gentle cocoon of lamplight when Ezra woke again.
-ends-