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Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's Notes: Please be gentle with me. This is my first attempt
at any kind of fan fiction. Penny, you are still Buck's official
owie giver. I just wanted to put my two cents in. It's short
and I'm kinda nervous about posting it.
feedback appreciated! Kelly.K.Lamb@usda.gov
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Chris felt an icy rage wash over him, as he listened silently to Mary Travis telling him what had happened.
He waited until she was finished, and asked simply. "Nathan's?"
Mary nodded, and Chris strode angrily out of the saloon.
The four grim faced men waiting below Nathan's clinic, stepped aside
to let their leader pass. The expression on his face, warned them
all not to get in his way.
As Chris made his way inside the clinic, Nathan took one look at his angry face and held up a warning hand. He jerked his head, indicating outside.
"How bad is it? Chris demanded, once they were on the landing of the clinic's stairs.
"It ain't good. They hurt him Chris. They hurt him real bad. Fact is, he's gonna hurt a lot more 'fore it's over. What he needs most, is peace and quiet and rest. He just ain't up to handlin' none of your moods right now." Nathan told the gunslinger sternly.
Chris started to say something in reply, but Nathan cut him off harshly. "I mean it Chris. You say one word in there, that ain't fit for Sunday mornin' meetin', and I'll put you out."
Chris' angry eyes met Nathan's fiercely protective eyes, and any thought he'd given to arguing ended. He nodded meekly, and followed the healer back into the clinic.
The four men waiting at the foot of the stairs, exchanged impressed glances. Very few people stood up to Chris Larabee, and even fewer had cowed the gunslinger so completely.
As Chris' eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, he saw the still and quiet figure in the bed.
"I knew it would happen someday with all the gallivantin' you do," he mumbled.
Turning to Nathan, Chris asked, "What's the extent of the injuries?"
"Well, considering one of them used brass knuckles, I'd say he's lucky to be alive. He's got 18 stitches in his head, ten under his eye, a busted nose, jaw and right collarbone, several broken ribs, and I'm not sure of the internal injuries just yet."
"Damn, I told him that Manning girl was trouble," Chris muttered as he paced the length of the room, "but you know how Buck is: always thinking with his - "
"Chris, that's enough. When he comes around, he'll be needin' your support, not your criticism."
Nathan took Chris by the shoulder and turned him towards the door. "You go find the Manning boys and bring 'em in. I'll look after Buck. Maybe by the time you get back, he'll be awake."
Chris turned and took one more look at the figure on the bed.
'Hell,' he thought, as he stared at the beaten face, 'he don't even resemble
Buck.'
