Chapter Text
It was long after dark when the crowd started dispersing from the center of town. Citizens began to grab hold of their senses and began to clean up the damage left behind. Some tended to the fire that had been slowly dying outside of the saloon. Others were helping Mara fix the broken beaming at the inn. Able knew he needed to check on her, but he couldn’t stop pacing.
Even after the action had started to wane, Beck was still nowhere to be found. He knew his son had clambered onto the nearest horse and took off into the desert while the Occupation was too stunned to react, but surely he would have snuck back by now. He always did, even with bruises and a limp. It was a wonder Beck had never considered that Able knew what he had been up to.
But Beck had taken quite the beating this time. Able was certain that Beck was not able to dodge all of those bullets, let alone being thrown around like a ragdoll and nearly strangled.
At that thought, Able glanced to the space under his bed, where his rifle hid. It was moments like this that he was glad he had it, but he wasn’t quick enough to spare his son from injury. Maybe he made it to Tron and Yori, or maybe…
He couldn’t bring himself to finish that thought. Instead, he fished his rifle from beneath the bed again and slung it over his back. He made his way down the stairs slowly, as if Beck would be hiding in the back room, trying to clean himself up. Yet the backroom and even the front of the shop were dark and empty. With a sigh, he pulled back up his bandanna and retrieved his hat from next to the door. He pulled the rim just above his eyes and checked his surroundings before stepping outside. He quickly crossed to his horse and hoisted himself up. He took one more cautionary glance around before coaxing his horse into the desert.
He could see the fire from the distance, and the figure watching him approach. Even from his distance, he could see the tell-tale signs that Tron was aiming to kill, but waiting for his target to discern themselves as friend or foe. To help, Able held his hands up in surrender as he approached.
“Able,” Yori spoke first in relief, letting her whip relax in her hand when she recognized him. He nodded and slipped off his horse when he came to a stop.
Tron lowered his gun, but his gaze was narrowed. “You’re not Beck.”
It was an obvious statement, but Able knew what he meant. “You mean he’s not here?”
He shook his head and holstered his gun. “He was supposed to be back before sundown after he saved those hostages.”
Able grimaced at that and both outlaws tensed.
“What happened?” Yori asked, her fear signaling off her easier and louder than Tron. But Able could see the downturn in his expression, how tight his arms were over his chest.
“I…” He sighed as he took off his hat. “I had grounded him, tried to keep him next to me.”
“You what? ” Tron growled, and Yori hurried to put a hand on his arm.
“Well, it was a better idea than sending him into that death trap!” Able snapped.
“Which is why I had told him to break the hostages out before sundown-!”
“ Boys! ” Yori snapped, putting herself in between both of them, matching their glares with one of her own. Many often forget that her temper could rival Tron’s if pushed. “Arguing won’t solve anything.”
She then turned to Able, letting her glare soften just slightly. “I assume grounding him didn’t work.”
Able shook his head. “I wish it had. I had sent him to Father Dumont, to keep him out of the danger, but he snuck out. He tried to fight Tesler and fled into the desert.” His grip tightened on the strap for his rifle.
Tron glanced at his grip, before looking at him. He didn’t need to know anything more at that moment. “Then we need to find him. He could be anywhere.”
Yori nodded and wrapped up her whip. She attached it to her hip before hurrying to the fire. She retrieved a piece of wood before digging out three lanterns. After each was lit, she passed them out. “This will help us find him. We need to hurry; he could be running out of time.”
The two men nodded and took the lanterns. They exchanged a glance with each other before climbing on their horses. Without another word, the three took off along the path back to town before splitting into three different directions.
Yori had always thought of Beck like he was her boy.
Of course, he couldn’t be. She and Tron had never had any children, but she’d like to think their children would be a lot like Beck. Headstrong, but with his heart in the right place. Kind, even if to a fault. She found herself drawn to the boy immediately, and she knows he’s grown on Tron, too.
This might explain why her heart was hammering so hard in her chest, she thought she might be dying. She was glad the wind was loud as she galloped through the desert, otherwise, she might have been able to hear her blood roaring in her ears.
Able hadn’t said what exactly happened to Beck, but he didn’t need to. It had been ages since she had seen Able with his gun and she had heard the stories about Tesler from Beck’s previous fights. Even with all his training, the boy still had a long way to go before he could take on the sheriff on his own.
She forced herself to slow when the town’s lights were in sight. She raised her lantern high as her eyes combed the dirt. The sand was spotless, with no sign of footprints, hoofprints, blood or (thankfully) a corpse. Still, she frowned and guided her horse forward in a slow gait. She prayed to something that he was found soon, and wasn’t dead. They would have to find a new successor for Tron, and she could barely stomach the image of Beck lifeless in the sand-
Her thoughts halted at the sight of the horse trotting towards her. Her hand instinctively reached for her whip but paused when she realized the horse did not have a rider.
She slipped off her horse and hurried forward to stop the animal. Thankfully, the lone horse wasn’t spooked by her approach. Rather, it let her close in, pawing at the ground impatiently.
“You’re Beck’s horse…” She murmured softly, patting its side. She looked up at it. “Lead me to him.”
As if it understood, the horse turned back and began to trot off. As it turned, her heart stuttered at the bloody handprint on its side.
She didn’t even climb on her horse, delegating instead to lead it by the reins as they followed Beck’s horse, holding her lantern out in front of her. It didn’t take long for the horse to slow, and her light uncovered a prone form in the sand.
She nearly dropped her lantern as she ran to Beck’s side. He didn’t stir as she approached or when she turned him onto his back. It took a moment of shaking him for him to groan. He squeezed his eyes shut at the light.
“Beck, wake up!” She hissed, almost begging.
“Yori?” He mumbled, slowly cracking his eyes open. He was pale and his eyes were glazed.
“I’m here.” She promised, taking one of his hands in hers as she searched his body. She could see the faintest stains across his shirt and pants. She tried to avoid looking at the bruising at his neck. “Where does it hurt?”
He didn’t answer. She looked up to see his eyes closing, and shook him. “Hey, stay with me.”
He blinked rapidly at that. “Sorry.” He slurred. “ ‘m tired.”
“I know.” She gently pressed a hand against his side, and he cried out weakly. “Sorry.” Her hand came back covered in blood. Shit.
She tried to not let her hands shake as her mind raced. She needed the men, and fast. They hadn’t talked about a way to call each other should they find Beck…Her hands blindly searched herself until they traced her long-forgotten pistol. It wasn’t her weapon of choice…but it might just be the key.
She began to rise, and he clung to her hand desperately. His eyes were wide. “Don’t leave me!” He begged.
“I’m not.” She promised gently and squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
His hand was shaking when she gently unwrapped his fingers from her hand. She kept her gaze on him as she stepped back from him and the horses. Then, she aimed her gun at the sky and fired.
The shot echoed across the silent desert. She waited for a moment, before firing again. She watched the horizon and listened intently. Her hands shook as she fired one more shot. The moment the gun had stopped smoking, she holstered it and ran back to Beck, retrieving her lantern. She held it up high, searching the skyline.
Finally, she heard the clattering of hooves and two horses galloped towards her. She swung her light as a beacon until she could discern Tron and Able’s forms. Then, she returned to Beck’s side, gently shaking him awake again. “Stay with me.”
She heard someone jump off their horse and Able ran to her side. He gasped softly and cupped Beck’s face. Beck leaned into it wordlessly, the effort too great at that moment.
“He needs medical attention.” She stated. “More than we have at the camp.”
Able nodded with a deep swallow. His hands were shaking. “Let’s get him on my horse. He won’t stay on his own.”
She nodded and slipped her hands underneath Beck. She heard Tron join them and say: “Get on your horse, Able.”
Able didn’t argue, hurrying back to his horse. Tron took Beck in for a quick moment. “Cradle his head and neck.” He directed to Yori. “I’ll get the rest of his body.”
She nodded and moved to his head. He was staring up at her, eyes glassy but she was thankful she could feel his labored breathing. After a quick count, the two lifted him. She noticed Tron’s grip tighten when Beck didn’t respond. They carried him to Able’s outstretched arms. Yori let go the moment Able scooped him up, leaving Tron to help Able hoist the boy up. Beck’s limp body leaned into Able’s heavily, head drooping into his shoulder. Able wrapped one hand around his back and used the other to prompt his horse into motion.
“Go catch up with them,” Tron told her as they watched the two take off into the night. When she glanced over, his jaw was clenched and brow pressed. “I’ll take care of his horse.”
She nodded and hoisted herself onto her horse. She looked back down to him. “He’ll be okay.” She found herself saying. “He’s in good hands now.”
Tron said nothing, turning his back to her. As she took off after Able and Beck, she realized she didn’t really believe herself either.
Beck’s head was lolling back by the time Able came to a stop at the shop. Able cradled his head close, trying to keep his neck straight and immobile. “Beck?”
He groaned softly and Able couldn’t help but sigh with relief. He carefully slipped off the horse first before pulling Beck into his arms. He gasped at the movement, hand blindly going to his side.
“I know.” Able whispered. “I know. Hang on, son.”
He ignored the sound of hooves hitting the dirt as he made his way to the door, trying not to jostle Beck. It wasn’t until someone reached out for the door before him did he start.
“Let me get the door.” Yori insisted and Able had to keep himself from slumping in relief. They hadn’t been caught.
She opened it and he slipped past, maneuvering Beck through the doorway. He made his way up the stairs in a familiar fashion and he heard Yori shut the door before hurrying up after him.
The moon shined over the two empty beds. Able gingerly laid Beck on his bed, and his boy groaned. The older man couldn’t keep the shake out of his hands now that they were free. However, he ignored that as he hurried to the lantern at the side of his bed.
“What do you need from me?” Yori asked from behind him as he grabbed the matches. He struck one and the light warmed up the pallor of the room.
“There are more lanterns downstairs, in storage,” Able said as he lit the lantern and shut the casing. He shook the match and the match went out. “Grab as many as you can and bring them up here.”
He assumed she nodded because her footsteps thundered down the stairs. He looked up to the moon peeking through the window and lunged up. He stole a glance at the empty square before he pulled the blinds down, blocking out the moon’s watchful eye.
Only then did he turn to Beck. Shaking hands removed his hat and untied his bandanna. The shadows and fabric were gone, leaving Beck’s pale face exposed. Still, Able couldn’t hold back his gasp at the unnatural crook in his nose, the black eye and swollen lip, and the blood dried in streams over his chin and cheeks. His one eye that wasn’t swollen shut opened blearily with a groan. “Able?” He asked, voice hoarse and broken.
“I’m here.” Able promised, taking his hand.
He looked up as Yori returned, arms full of lanterns. She gasped softly at the sight of Beck’s face.
Beck attempted to grimace. “That bad?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Able diverted. “We can fix this.”
Another set of footsteps hurried up the stairs and Tron appeared in the doorway. He froze at the sight of Beck, several emotions playing across his face before they were shut down into a guarded expression.
“Tron,” Able took off his rifle and held it out. “You can either hold on to it or put it under my bed. Either way, I need you to grab the medical kit underneath there.”
Tron nodded and took the rifle. He carefully slid it beneath the bed before dragging out the large box. He pulled it next to Able and straightened. Yori was still lighting lanterns, placing them around the scene. Each light brought more of Beck’s form out of the dark.
“We need to check beneath his clothes,” Able said suddenly. When Tron looked at him, he continued. “He was shot at multiple times. I have a feeling he didn’t miss all of them.”
Tron nodded and leaned over Beck to unbutton his shirt. The boy shivered at the cold air as he was exposed but Tron was avoiding his gaze.
“Sit him up,” Tron said finally. Able nodded and gently sat his son up, trying to ignore how his stomach churned when the boy cried out and blindly reached out for Tron.
Tron took his hand and gently helped Beck shed the shirt before squeezing his hand. The boy was panting hard, tears running down his face. “Stop.” He begged. What little voice he had shook. “ Please .”
“I’ve got you,” Tron promised instead and began to slowly lay Beck back down. Beck’s body shook with choked sobs with each movement.
“ Make it stop! ” He sobbed, chest heaving. Tron squeezed his hand.
“I’m sorry.” The hero said. “I wish I could.” His stomach twisted itself into knots over Beck’s pleading and sobs. An unnatural reaction for him, he notes silently.
Able sucked in a quick breath, pulling Tron out of his thoughts. He turned to the other man. “What is it?”
“I was right,” Able said, examining the wounds across Beck’s midriff and chest. “Some of those are bullet wounds. And it doesn’t look like they passed through.”
At that, Tron cursed. “We’ll need to remove the bullets from his body. They’ll risk creating a blockage or infection.”
“I know that!” But Able’s hands were shaking against his lap. He wouldn’t be able to remove them, not without hurting Beck.
“I’ll do it.” Tron insisted though he didn’t feel much better. He had helped remove bullets from his men before but this was a kid -
“One problem,” Yori called out. The two men turned to see her sorting out the first aid kit. “We’re out of gauze, needle, and threads and there are no painkillers in here.”
That got Able’s full attention. He crawled over and began digging through the kit, and he cursed softly. “I gave the last of my laudanum to Zed when he got kicked by a horse. The next shipment won’t be here for weeks!”
Yori grimaced over Able’s head to Tron. Laudanum was the best pain relief for what they were going to have to do. Most anything else wouldn’t be enough.
“What about everything else?” Tron directed instead, trying not to think about what all Beck would feel.
“I have more gauze and sewing supplies downstairs. Yori, could you-”
Knock knock
Everyone froze at the sound and the air became static. After a moment, an elderly voice called through the door. “Able? I know it’s late, but I wanted to make sure Beck was here. He slipped out during my evening prayer.”
Dumont? Yori mouthed in confusion. Tron nodded.
“Able?” Dumont called again, and the knob began to turn.
“Oh, yes!” Able called, trying to quickly make his way to the stairs. “Everything’s fine! You need not worry-”
He barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before the priest opened the door. Tron pulled Yori out of sight of the doorway. Able blocked the sight up the stairs about the same time.
“Father Dumont!” He greeted in a cheery voice that was spread thin. “You didn’t have the make the walk all the way here!”
Dumont did not seem to believe the pained grin on Able’s face if his suspicious expression was anything to go by. “I wanted to make sure Beck had gotten home safely. As I said, he had snuck out during my evening prayer. Link, the poor boy, hadn’t been able to convince him to stay in the church. I assume he had gone to watch the fight, and I heard it got rather out of hand.”
Tron faintly realized Beck was wheezing. He looked up to see Beck blindly searching for some sort of comfort, one of his hands clutching his side as he began to bleed again.
“He came home.” Able promised. “He got the lecture and grounding of a lifetime, but he’s safe-”
Tron had no choice. If he didn’t tend to Beck then, the bleeding would only grow. But tending to Beck would put him in direct sight of the priest, who he could not guarantee wouldn’t report the sighting to the Occupation. With a grunt, he kicked the bedroom door and it slammed shut. Both men below whipped around to the shut door.
“Is everything okay, Able?” Dumont asked after a pause. Able slowly turned back. “Are you sure he wasn’t hurt?”
Tron scrambled over to Beck, blindly grabbing at the first aid. His fingers clumsily grab a cloth.
“ What are you doing ?” Yori hissed, still against the door.
“He’s going to bleed out if we don’t do something!” Tron pressed enough to try and clot the bleeding and Beck screamed .
For an old man, Dumont had a surprising amount of strength. He shoved Able out of the way and began his way up the stairs as quickly as he could. All Able could do is yell, “Father, wait-!”
Yori barely scrambled out of the way as Dumont pushed the door open. His gaze caught on her first, then roved over to where Tron was frozen over Beck, covered in his blood. Their wide eyes were stuck on the priest, and for a moment, the only sound was Beck’s quiet sobs.
“Father…” Able tried again, coming up behind him. “I can explain-”
Dumont held up a hand, and Able went silent. His eyes searched the rest of the scene before he slowly approached Tron and Beck.
“Let me see, sheriff.” The priest said finally. Tron slowly let go and backed away as Dumont took his place over Beck. He hummed softly, before going to his knees with a quiet grunt. He gently wiped the sweat off of Beck’s brow, and the boy’s feverish gaze tried to find him, but couldn’t see him.
“Yori.” She looked up at her name, but Dumont didn’t look at her. “I need you to go to the church. In my office is a fully stocked kit. I need you to make sure there are six vials of Laudanum in there. Bring that kit here, and don’t be seen. Got it?”
She nodded before she managed a:” Yes, Father”. She then scrambled to her feet and took off down the stairs.
“Able,” Dumont continued. “Go to Zuse and ask for the bottle of his strongest. We’re going to need it.”
He took off as well. Dumont carefully grabbed another rag and began to roll it up. All Tron could find himself doing was watching him work.
Dumont then leaned forward, pushing Beck’s hair out of his hair. “Open.” He commanded gently, and slowly opened Beck’s mouth. He placed the rag between his teeth and closed Beck’s mouth again. “I need you to bite on that.”
After a moment, he turned his attention back to the wounds. “How many of these are bullet wounds?” He asked Tron without looking up.
“Three. The bullets are still inside.”
Dumont sighed. “Just what I was afraid of.” He carefully retrieved the tweezers. “Tron, I need you to hold him down. He’s not going to have any relief until that laudanum is in his system.”
Tron nodded and rounded to the front of the bed. He placed his hands on Beck’s shoulders. “I’m ready.”
Dumont took a deep breath, showing the severity of the situation for the first time on his face. After a moment, he began to work.
It was nearing sunrise when Dumont patched up the final wound. Able and Yori had been quick to return. Able had mixed the liquor and the laudanum mixture together and gently coxed it down Beck’s throat, distracting him from Dumont disinfecting the gunshot in his side. After that, it was hard to tell if the mixture had been strong enough to lull him to sleep, or if he finally passed out from the pain.
Now, he slept soundly as Dumont examined his throat, gently running his fingers across the bruising.
“It’s going to take some time for this bruising to heal.” He spoke for the first time in hours. “But we’re lucky his windpipe wasn’t crushed.”
No one spoke, wrung out from the long night. Tron was still standing at the head of the bed, watching his apprentice sleep. Yori crossed her arms as she stood in the corner, eyes bloodshot. Able was sitting on the edge of his bed across from Beck, head in his hands.
At some point during the night, someone had fetched a bucket of water. Dumont sighed as he knelt in front of it, using it to scrub his hands.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Able,” Dumont said gently, looking up to his friend. Able glanced up at that. “You did the right thing, bringing him back here. He would not have survived in the desert.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tron spoke as well, throat dry. “You tried to protect him.”
“Tron, come wash that blood off your hands,” Dumont called as he dried his hands. Tron obeyed, kneeling next to the bucket as well. His expression was…unreadable.
“If anything, it’s our fault.” Tron continued after a moment, glaring down at the blood on his hands. “ My fault.”
Yori nodded in agreement. “We’re the ones that convinced him to fight back. If we hadn’t, Beck wouldn’t have been forced into this situation.”
Dumont hummed as he sat on the edge of Able’s bed. “Oh, I think Beck would have fought regardless. After all, he burned down the mayor’s house. And I doubt he was acting on your orders.”
“Why do you think that?” Tron asked.
Dumont looked at him critically. “That was Flynn’s house. You and I both know you would have never asked the boy to burn down the last physical memory of Flynn we had. Maybe scare Dyson out of living there, but not burn it down.”
Tron didn’t know what to say to that.
“He would have kept fighting, regardless of if he had your approval. I like to think that perhaps you kept him from getting killed this long.”
Tron nodded and looked to where Beck was sleeping.
“We’ll need to stay here for the day if that’s okay with you, Able,” Yori said finally. “There’s too much light for Tron and me to sneak back out of town without being seen.”
Able nodded. “That’s fine. He’ll want to see you when he wakes, anyway.” He then turned to Dumont. “You don’t have to wait, Father. I know you have duties to attend to back at the church.”
Dumont waved him off. “Link can handle them for me today. I want to make sure there aren’t any further complications.” He looked up to Tron and Yori. “Why don’t you two take a seat and tell us how he became your Renegade?”
The bullet tore into his side and he fell to his knees. One hand slammed into the dirt, while the other hurried to cradle his side. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as he felt the warm liquid spilling over his fingers.
Hands grabbed the back of his shirt and suddenly he was flying. He yelled as his back hit something that splintered beneath him. As he tried to stumble to his feet, Tesler grabbed him again and slammed him into another beam of the inn. Beck slipped and squirmed out of the hold. He swung with a cry at Tesler’s midriff, making contact once, twice-
The backhand knocked him off his feet and he rolled back into the square. He scrambled to his feet as Tesler strolled towards him. His breathing was roaring in his ears as he unsheathed his knife. He backed up until he was away from the inn, then lunged at Tesler with a cry.
Tesler caught his wrist and twisted it with all his strength. His war cry was choked and he dropped the knife. Before he could dive for it, Tesler kicked it away. He dragged him by the arm, further and further away from the knife. When he let go, Beck tried to crawl away but Tesler placed a foot on his back.
“This. Ends. Now.” The sheriff gritted out.
Think Beck! Think!
The gun!
Tesler grunted when Beck twisted and slammed Tesler’s discarded gun into his knee. He had little time to celebrate as Tesler grabbed his head and slammed it into the ground. Stars danced in his line of sight, and he could have sworn he felt like he was floating.
Tesler lifted him to eye-level, but far enough that Beck couldn’t swing or kick. There was a pressure on his throat, Beck realized after too long of a moment, and the pressure was growing. He tried to take a shaky breath, hands struggling to grab at Tesler’s wrist. His breath was blocked, trapping dead air in his lungs. His legs swung desperately but uselessly.
“This is what you can make of your Renegade!” Tesler called. “He’s not Tron, but he’s about to share his fate!”
His vision was growing dark, thoughts too crowded to do anything but panic. I can’t breathe , he could feel himself hyperventilating, choking on air, I’m going to die…
The thoughts stopped seeming scary. They were stringing apart, words growing softer and softer…
BANG!
Tesler cried out suddenly. Something warm splattered across his face. The pressure on his neck was gone, and his back slammed into something hard-
Beck gasped as he shot up. Pain erupted in his side, ripping a hoarse cry from his throat as his hand shot to his side.
Two hands were immediately on his shoulders, “Easy.” A familiar voice said gently as they eased him back down. It took a long moment for his eyes to focus on Tron’s upside-down face above him.
“Tron.” He breathed, and though his throat ached, the tension melted from his body. He was safe.
Tron nodded at his name. “You need to take it easy, Beck. You’re only awake because the medicine wore off.”
“He’s right.” Beck slowly turned to see Able next to the bed. If that wasn’t confusing enough, just beyond him Yori was creating some concoction and Dumont was slowly standing up from Able’s bed.
“Able?” He whispered. He glanced back to Tron, and then to Able again. “You two know each other?”
Despite everything, Tron couldn’t help but snort at that. Able shot him a look but nodded. “Yes. We’ve known each other for a long time. Longer than they’ve known you and longer than you’ve been the Renegade.”
That last sentence sunk in and his eyes widened with a gasp, he tried to look away. Able gently set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Beck. I…I know.”
He stole a glance at him. “How long?”
Able sighed and shook his head. “Too long.”
“He’s why you’re here,” Yori said gently, approaching Beck. “He had been looking for you, after your fight with Tesler. He had come to us, and we searched for you. You wouldn’t have survived if we hadn’t found you.”
Beck’s stomach sank into his toes. “Oh.” He said softly.
“Let me check his injuries.” An old voice said. Tron, Able, and Yori backed away to let Dumont through. The priest examined his bandages, humming with approval before gently placing his hand on Beck’s throat. Beck flinched, but Dumont never tightened his grip.
“Everything seems to be healing nicely,” Dumont announced, removing his hand. He glanced at Able and Tron. “He’ll be back to work in no time at all. For both of you.”
“Father,” Dumont looked back down at Beck’s quiet voice. His eyes were wide. “Are you going to turn me in?”
Eight eyes were on the priest. After a moment, Dumont pushed back Beck’s hair and shook his head. “No, child. Why would I stop the new Tron in his fight for justice?”
Beck blinked up at him in confusion but Dumont paid him no mind. Instead, he turned and shook everyone’s hand. “Send for me if his condition changes.”
Able nodded. “We will. Thank you, Father.”
Dumont nodded and slowly made his way down the stairs. Everyone was silent until the back door to the shop swung closed. When he was gone, Tron sighed and situated himself on the edge of Beck’s bed. “Beck, I need you to understand that you’ve changed things.”
Beck could no longer meet his gaze, delegating instead to stare at the wall. “How so? Tesler nearly beat me. He almost killed me. From where I’m sitting, it looks a lot like square one.”
“What you have done,” Yori spoke up, “is show the people of Argon that they don’t have to sit by and watch bad things happen. They can choose to fight. That is what you did. Not me or Tron.”
Beck still didn’t look at them, but he was smiling softly. “I suppose I should thank y’all for saving me. Again.”
Tron’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“With the fight.” Beck finally looked at them. “You shot Tesler!” And then he turned to Yori, “And you must have helped keep the guards away.”
Tron and Yori exchanged a confused look. “That wasn’t us, Beck,” Yori said.
“We were in the desert the whole time,” Tron added.
Beck’s frown grew in thought. “Then if it wasn’t you…”
Slowly, Tron and Yori looked to Able to see him slowly push his rifle further beneath his bed. Beck didn’t miss it, gaze turning to his adoptive father.
“It was you?” There was an odd, indiscernible expression on his face. “You took out Tesler!”
Able gave a nervous chuckle. “Now how could an old man like me possibly manage a stunt like that?”
“With your gun,” Tron said dryly. The look Able shot him made Beck chuckle. It quickly broke off with a groan as he cradled his side.
“Here.” Yori retrieved the concoction and opens the top. “Drink some of this. It’ll help.”
Beck obeyed, the taste of ginger and alcohol hitting his tongue. Tron’s hand was on his back, propping him up as he drank. When he finished, the old sheriff gently laid him back down. Already, he could drowsiness setting in, and he rubbed his eyes.
Someone chuckled, and another hand settled in his hair. “Get some sleep, Beck,” Able said. “We’ll be here when you wake.”
And Beck didn’t argue, giving in to deep sleep.