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Disclaimer: Ain't mine.
Author's Notes: In response to Kim's a scene in need of a fic.
feedback welcome! broughts@onlink.net
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"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.
Chris quietly entered the room behind Nathan, dreading what he would
see. Nathan motioned him over to the bed and whispered, "We gotta be keeping
real quiet now, Chris. He's barely hanging on, and he needs all the
rest he can get.
Now I need to go and get some things--so can I trust you to keep in
control while I'm gone?"
Chris nodded, almost as an afterthought. This couldn't be Josiah.
The ex-preacher was covered in blood stained bandages, from the top of
his head, down to his waist, where the sheet started. What little
of his body could be seen, was bruised, and cut and scraped raw.
One eye was swollen shut, and most of the strong face was unrecognizable.
Josiah normally radiated a quiet
strength, both spiritually and physically. Though Chris Larabee
was the defacto leader of the bunch, Josiah's sonorous voice and vast wisdom,
had often served to calm hasty actions and angry souls.
Nathan slipped out of the door, as Chris drew a chair up to the bed.
As he looked at the ruined face, his mind went back to the first time he
saw Josiah. The preacher was hauling boulders and broken rock by hand,
to rebuild a destroyed church. By hand! Chris didn't know if
he was more impressed with the pure physical power of the man, or his stolid
determination to fix the ruin,
piece by solitary piece. All he could think of at the time, was
that he would be a powerful ally in the upcoming battle, and he was happy
to have him.
Josiah had continued to prove his worth, despite being an avowed man
of peace--with a temper, that he was already paying penance for.
Chris knew he had demons, but he left the man alone with them, as he expected
people to do with
him. Larabee was surprised at Josiah's easy acceptance of his
leadership; afterall, the man was easily six or more years his senior,
and obviously well able to lead men. But Josiah never challenged
him, and rarely spoke out against the decisons he made. Oh, yes,
he would offer advice, coached in riddles and Bible passages, that often
made little sense. And he would use his powerful voice to try and
persuade men to choose a different path. If that failed, his awesome
physical prowess would be put to good use. He was stalwart, and strong
and brave. And he was lying in this bed, near death, because of Chris
Larabee.
Oh Chris hadn't done the actual damage; it wasn't his horse that had
dragged the body, until the skin was torn from it in strips. It wasn't
his boots that had kicked in ribs, and raised large bumps on the greying
head. It wasn't his gun that put two bullets into that powerful chest.
But Chris knew it was his fault anyway. If he hadn't asked the man
to join him. If he didn't have so many
enemies who would use any means to get at him, to hurt him...then Josiah
woundn't have been attacked and beaten senseless, by a heartless bastard
of a man, who held a grudge with Chris Larabee. It was Chris' fault,
and he silently berated himself for ever doubting this man.
He could still remember the look in Vin's eyes, when the Pinkerton man
had accused Sanchez of those murders. Vin couldn't believe that Chris
would actually doubt one of them; that he would accept an outsider's word,
and turn his back on one of his own. But Josiah had never said anything
about it. It was never spoken of, and Chris was silently thrilled
when the real murderer was caught. They were a group again.
They'd been given another chance. He looked back over at the unconcious
man. Had their luck finally run out? Would they lose one of
their 'family' now? NO! He couldn't lose someone because of
his
past!
"Josiah. Ya gotta hang on. It isn't your time to join your God yet. You can't die because of me, I'll never be able to live with that, another friend dead, because of me." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked over at the man. No change.
-San
