Twenty minutes later, Buck and Nathan were in the clinic working on Chris and the others were out on the porch. They had found no trace of whoever had shot Chris, and they'd look again later.
As Mary Travis walked by the clinic, she saw as J.D., Josiah, Vin, and Ezra standing outside. They didn't say anything when she walked up. Only Ezra tipped his hat in 'hello'. Mary got a very uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"What's wrong gentlemen?"
None of the men spoke. They exchanged glances. All of them knew what had been developing between Mrs. Travis and Chris.
"Waiting for word on Chris." Vin finally spoke. "He got shot."
Mary's breath caught in her throat. Her hand went up to her mouth in shock. Slowly pulling it away, she asked, "Is it serious?"
"He's seen worse." All heads turned as Buck walked out of the clinic. He had blood covering his shirt, and he looked almost pale. Buck turned to his partners, and cleared his throat. "It caught him in the side of the neck. Passed right through. He should be fine, just can't talk. Nathan's patchin' him up now." Buck sat down in the chair that J.D. offered. The man looked tired.
"Can I see him?" Mary's voice was hopeful.
"Sure. Go on in." Buck waited till the woman was inside and the door closed behind her before he spoke again.
"The son-of-a-bitch tried to blow his head off."
Chris sat by himself at the bar. The bartender had given him his coffee without question. He had only stared at the man for a second, then handed over the cup. It was now an hour later and Chris had only taken 2 sips. He stared at the counter, his face expressionless.
From outside, the sound of men talking drifted into the bar. As the doors swung open, the six men saw the familiar back at the bar. Their talking stopped immediately.
"Nathan, I thought you said he was still in the clinic?" Vin asked, with a hint of exasperation in his voice.
"I guess he let himself out." And with that, the medicine man walked up to the man. The other exchanged quick glances before following. Nathan sat on the stool to the right of Chris. The right side of the man's neck had a bandage on it, and had a blood stain forming on it.
"What the hell may I ask, are you doing here?"
"Coffee." The gunfighters voice was so quiet and scratchy it made the others wince. He sounded awful. Nathan shook his head.
"You know, you shouldn't be drinking anything, much less something hot."
"Watch me." With that Chris took another sip of the coffee. It seared his throat all the way, and the others saw the pained look on his face.
"Fine." Nathan stood. Buck took his place on the stool to the left of Chris.
"Now, you wanna tell us what that whole thing was about day before last?"
"Old acquaintance." Chris smiled, and turned as the bar door opened. The men turned also to see a man enter the room.
"Hey! That's the fella that we were telling you guys about! The drunk James fella." Josiah told the group. Chris stormed past the group of men and walked right up to the man. As he approached, the man got a terrified expression on his face and turned to run out of the bar. But Chris was too fast. He grabbed the man by the arm, turned him so that he was facing Chris, and slammed him against the wall. With one hand holding onto the man's neck, Chris reached down to his belt and pulled out his pistol. He shoved the barrel of the gun to the terrified mans forehead.
The others watched in shock at what Chris was doing. Quickly, they ran over to the two men. Buck stood directly to the right of Chris, grabbing the his arm.
"Chris!! What the hell are you doin?!" Vin came up to Chris' left, and drew his gun. By that time, the Chris and James were surrounded by six men, all guns drawn, but all unsure of who to shoot. Buck looked into Chris' eyes, and didn't recognize his friend. There was only pure hatred and a wanting to shoot James dead, and Buck knew he would.
Chris shoved the gun harder into the man's forehead. James closed his eyes against the pain. Buck grabbed Chris' arm tighter, and the gunfighter turned his aim. His gun was now pointed at Buck. Suddenly, all of the others trained their guns on Chris. They weren't going to let Chris shoot buck. James, who was still being held by the throat, managed to get out a few words.
"Don't do it Christopher. He's your best friend." A tone with more anger than anything any of the men had ever heard came out of Chris' wounded throat.
"Shut-up!" Chris turned his gun back to James, who closed his eyes, waiting to hear the sound. It came quickly. The sound of the pistol that had killed many people already being cocked. Suddenly, Vin brought his gun up fast and hit Chris hard over the head with the butt of it, knocking the gunfighter out. As Chris Larabee fell to the floor, the others rushed over him, taking his gun away, and dragging him over to a nearby table. Buck and Vin remained by James, who was still visibly shaken.
"You wanna explain why the hell I just had to do that?!" Vin was mad, and he knew that as soon as he woke up, he'd have to answer to Chris, and he'd like to be able to explain.
"You saved my life. Thank you."
"You're not welcome!" Vin spat. "Who the hell are you?!"
James was silent. He looked over at the table where Chris was slumped in a chair, still unconscious, but almost coming out of it. "I'm his father."
