Chapter Text
A quiet breeze moved through Four Corners, soft as a whisper, stirring the dust along the street into slow, drifting waves. It rolled low over the hard packed earth, curling around boots and hitching posts before settling again.
Chris sat tipped back in his chair outside the sheriff’s office, a cheroot resting between his fingers. Smoke curled upward in thin, lazy strands as his gaze stretched out over the quiet street, taking in everything without seeming to look at anything in particular.
The sun hung high in the bright blue sky. From atop the hotel, a whippoorwill called, then lifted and flew off, its wings cutting briefly across the light before disappearing beyond the rooftops. A few townsfolk moved along the boardwalk at an easy pace, offering quiet nods of greeting as they passed one another.
Inside the saloon, the air carried the low murmur of voices and the faint clink of glass. Buck and JD stood off to the side, beers in hand, watching as Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah sat at a table deep in a game of five card stud.
Ezra’s smile came easy as he laid down his winning hand for the third time in a row, cards fanning neatly against the worn wood.
“That does it,” Josiah muttered, pushing back from the table. “I’m out.”
“Me too,” Nathan added with a short chuckle, tossing his cards down. “You’d think I’d know better than to play cards with you, Ezra.”
“Gentlemen, please,” Ezra drawled, gathering the winnings with practiced ease, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wouldn’t you care for another opportunity to reclaim your… modest earnings?”
“Nope,” Josiah said simply, rising to his feet. “Got things to do. Besides… Cheyenne should be back soon.”
Buck glanced over, the humor easing out of his expression, replaced with something more thoughtful. “You trust her to be ridin’ out alone this soon?”
“It’s been over a month now, she needs her space, B’sides she ain’t alone,” Josiah replied, already turning toward the door. “Vin’s keepin’ an eye on her.”
“Vin?” JD asked, brows lifting.
Josiah nodded. “Only one she’ll let go with her. Says he don’t ask questions she ain’t ready to answer.”
JD grinned, unable to help himself. “Awe, he’s just sweet on her.”
Buck’s hand came up quick, cuffing him lightly on the back of the head.
“He understands her,” Buck said, giving JD a look. “That’s all.”
~*~*~*~*~
Cheyenne sat at the edge of the creek, watching the water as it flickered and shifted in the sunlight, each ripple catching the light just long enough to shine before slipping away again. A single leaf drifted past, gliding along the surface just beyond Wind’s nose as he lowered his head to drink, the quiet sound of water lapping against his muzzle, soft and steady. Overhead, birds called to one another, their songs rising and falling in easy rhythm. Nearby, chipmunks chattered and darted through the brush, chasing one another up and down the trees, disappearing into the undergrowth only to reappear again in a blur of movement. Cheyenne turned slightly, a faint smile touching her lips as she watched their antics for a moment, drawn into the simple liveliness of it.
Then her gaze returned to the water. The movement of it pulled at something deeper, and before she could stop it, memory rose up to meet her. A picnic by the pond. Johnny beside her. “The way his eyes caught the light when he smiled, the quiet warmth in his laughter. It had been a day much like this one. Blue sky stretched wide overhead, scattered with white, billowing clouds that drifted slow and easy, like leaves falling from a tree. Peaceful, warm, soothing.
A single tear slipped free, tracing its way down her cheek. Remembering him hurt, no matter how she tried to keep it from doing so. She had told herself it was the right thing, but knowing it did nothing to fill the hollow it had left behind... Part of her still wished she had gone with him.
The pain in her head came and went. Sometimes it struck hard enough to drive her to the ground, stealing her breath and her strength all at once. Other times, it lingered only as a dull pressure, an unwelcome reminder that her mind was still trying to piece itself back together.
The memories had been returning slowly, one by one. She remembered Jake now. Marcel. She remembered her childhood, the life she had known with them… with the parents she had believed were hers.
Both Jake and Josiah had tried to reassure her, told her nothing had truly changed, that she had been loved then, and she was loved now. That Jake and Marcel would always be her brothers, no matter the truth that had come to light.
But things were different. No matter how gently they spoke it, no matter how sincerely they meant it… things were much different now. Josiah was her father, and her true mother, Prairie Moon, had died giving birth to her. Jake and Marcel were not her brothers, but her cousins. Her life was greatly different than it had been all those years ago at the fort with Pierre and Snow Bird, far from the life she had lived with her grandparents. So much had changed that she could hardly make sense of it. And it weighed on her. Then there was Johnny, the man her heart craved, the love she knew was not meant to be. Still, the hurt cut deep.
A few steps away, Vin sat with his back resting against the trunk of an old oak tree, a piece of wood in one hand and his knife in the other. He worked at it slowly, shaving off thin curls with steady, practiced movements. Every so often, his head lifted, his eyes finding her without drawing attention to it.
He watched the way she took in her surroundings… the way she seemed to listen to everything at once. He had heard her earlier, her voice soft as she prayed to the Creator, the words carried quietly on the breeze. At one point, she had even sung, low and gentle, something he didn’t understand but felt all the same. Now she sat in silence, and the sadness that settled around her was as clear to him as if it had taken shape.
He didn’t know how to comfort her. Didn’t know if there were words that could reach her where she was. If he could… he would. He couldn’t deny that, given half a chance, he might offer her even more than that. But what she needed now wasn’t a man trying to claim a place in her life. What she needed… was a friend. That much, he could give.
Another hour slipped by, quiet and unmarked. Cheyenne had risen and now walked slowly along the creek bank, her steps unhurried, her fingers brushing lightly against the tops of the tall grass as she passed. Wind lifted his head, watching her, ears flicking forward, waiting as he always did.
Vin glanced up at the sky, noting the shift in the light, the slow slide of the sun toward the west. He turned the small carving over in his hand for a moment, then slid the knife back into its sheath and tucked the carving into his coat pocket, before pushing himself up to his feet. He crossed the short distance between them at an easy pace.
“We should be headin’ back,” he said, his voice quiet, not pressing. “Josiah’ll be on the worry if I don’t get you home soon.”
Cheyenne lifted her gaze to the sky, then let it drift out across the cottonwoods, the leaves stirring softly in the breeze.
“Is it wrong of me to not want to go back?” she asked.
Vin shifted his weight slightly, glancing out toward the same stretch of trees before answering.
“Reckon I know how you feel,” he said. “There’s times I’d rather stay up in the mountains… sleep out under the stars instead of goin’ back to town.” He gave a small shrug. “But it ain’t so bad. Not once you get used to it.”
Cheyenne shook her head faintly, her eyes still distant.
“I do not think I will get used to it again,” she said quietly. “The noise… the people.”
Vin didn’t answer right away. He let the silence settle, let her words sit where they’d fallen instead of stepping over them too quick. His gaze drifted out along the creek, following the slow bend of the water as it slipped through the trees.
“Give it some time… ease into it,” he said after a moment, his voice low and easy.
Cheyenne turned her head slightly, just enough to look at him, though her eyes still carried that faraway gaze.
He shifted his weight and leaned back against a nearby tree trunk. “You just take what you can stand,” he added. “Leave the rest for later.”
She studied him, quieter now, listening.
Her gaze dropped again, her fingers brushing lightly over the tall grass beside her. “It feels… too close,” she admitted. “It is like, everything pushes in on me. The voices… the memories…” She hesitated, her breath catching just slightly. “They do not come gentle.”
Vin nodded, like he’d expected that.
“Ain’t much in this world that does,” he said. “’Specially the things that matter.”
The breeze shifted, stirring the leaves overhead, carrying the faint scent of water and earth between them.
He glanced back toward Wind, then out in the direction of town.
“Reckon Josiah’s waitin’,” he said after a moment. “Jake too. Might not say much… but they’ll be watchin’ for ya all the same.”
Cheyenne’s brow tightened slightly, something in her expression softening beneath the weight of it.
“They worry too much I think,” she said quietly.
Vin gave a small nod. “They care about ya, that’s all.”
Silence settled again, but it felt different now. Not as heavy. Not as closed in.
He straightened from the tree and stepped a little closer, just enough that his presence was there if she needed it.
“We don’t gotta hurry back,” he said. “We can take it slow.”
Cheyenne drew in a careful breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out again. Her shoulders eased, just a fraction, as though the air itself had taken some of the weight with it.
Vin glanced toward the trail, then back to her. “They’ll be there when we get back.”
Cheyenne’s gaze drifted out along the creek, then toward the trees beyond, where the shadows had begun to stretch longer with the falling light. Her thoughts turned, settling on something quieter, something steadier.
“I should hunt for him,” she said after a moment. “He likes my rabbit stew. It is his favorite.”
Vin’s mouth twitched faintly, a hint of warmth slipping through. “Reckon we can do that on the way, if’n you want,” he said, glancing toward the brush as though already considering where the game might be hiding.
Cheyenne let out a soft sigh, the sound carrying more tiredness than reluctance. She turned and moved toward Wind, her hand coming up to rest against the horse’s neck, fingers sliding lightly through his mane in a familiar, grounding motion.
“Tomorrow, perhaps,” she said quietly.
Wind shifted under her touch, ears flicking forward as if in agreement.
Vin didn’t argue it. He simply gave a small nod, accepting it for what it was, a step, even if it wasn’t a big one.
“Tomorrow’s good,” he said.
Cheyenne stood there a moment longer, her hand still resting against Wind, her eyes unfocused as if she were listening to something only she could hear. Then, slowly, she gathered herself, drawing in another steady breath. After a brief pause, she placed her foot and swung up onto Wind’s back in one smooth motion.
~*~*~*~*~
Abe Wheeler stood outside the livery stable, looking out toward the edge of town. Nothing moved. The breeze lifted the loose dirt in soft, feather like swirls before letting it settle again. He made his way over to the hitching rail and leaned both arms across the top rail, resting his chin on his forearms. He stayed there, still and quiet, watching without really seeing, his thoughts pulling him somewhere else.
He found himself thinking about the days when he had been the one riding out with her, watching her hunt or gather herbs and medicine roots, moving through the land like she belonged to it. Her voice lingered with him, soft and serene, carrying those quiet conversations they used to have about what might come someday.
She had never asked for much, just love, a place to call home, and a family of her own someday.
He had wanted a ranch of his own, a place where he could raise horses and build something that was his. The livery and blacksmith shop had only ever been the beginning, a way to save and work toward that future piece by piece. What he hadn’t seen coming was how much he had started to picture her in it, not just passing through, but staying. Being part of it, Someday.
Then everything shifted. She had been pulled back toward a life she had lived before, something that had taken hold of her in a way he couldn’t reach. Not long after, that life had been taken from her just as quickly. Through it all, he had stayed where he was, waiting, thinking there would be time. Then she was gone.
When she came back, she had looked like the same girl he had known, but something had already changed. Her heart had found its way to someone else before he had ever truly had the chance to make his place known.
Now her memories were returning, slowly, piece by piece, and he found himself right back where he had always been, standing off to the side, watching, waiting, hoping that somewhere in all of it, she might remember him before someone else stole her away, again.
“What is it folks say? A watched pot don’t never boil.” Jake said, lighthearted, as he walked up beside him. “You know she ain’t gonna get back any sooner’n she’s ready. Tanner ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to her.”
Abe didn’t answer. He pushed himself off the corral and shifted away, brushing his hands lightly against his pants. “Thought you was gettin’ ready to head out on a run.”
Jake shrugged. “Don’t leave ’til morning. Freight won’t be ready ’til then.” He glanced over at him. “Thought you might wanna go have a drink.”
“I got work to do,” Abe replied, already starting toward the smithy.
Jake opened his mouth to say something more, but his eyes caught movement out near the edge of town. He paused, his attention shifting, and a slight smile crossed his lips as he watched the two riders coming in.
He reached out and nudged Abe’s arm, then lifted his chin toward them.
Abe looked up just in time to see Vin and Cheyenne riding in, both of them slowing as they came near the church. They swung down from their horses, and Josiah stepped out onto the porch, moving to meet them.
Abe stood there a moment, watching as Cheyenne headed inside, her steps steady but unhurried, while Josiah remained on the stairs, speaking quietly with Vin.
“That offer for a beer still stand?” Abe asked, not taking his eyes off the church.
~*~*~*~*~
Josiah stood on the church steps, watching Cheyenne disappear inside. He didn’t follow, instead, he let his gaze linger on the closed door, as though he could still see her through it, as though stepping away too soon might somehow undo the small bit of steadiness she’d found.
Vin rested a hand lightly on Peso’s reins, giving the horse a quiet pat before looping them over the hitch rail. He moved without hurry, the same easy rhythm he carried everywhere, then turned back toward the steps.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Josiah let out a slow breath, one hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck before it dropped again to his side. “She’s still so distant… her smiles gone. I ain’t sure what to do for her anymore, Vin.”
Vin nodded. “She don’t say much, that’s fir sure.”
“She’s still wakin’ up in the middle of the night,” Josiah went on, his voice quieter now. “Sometimes callin’ out. Then the headaches come.” He stepped down and sat on one of the steps, the weight of it all settling into his shoulders.
“Well… reckon that’s understandable,” Vin said after a moment. “She went through a hell of an ordeal, losin’ her memory an’ all.” He stepped over and leaned against the stair rail, one hand resting easy on the wood. “She still don’t feel safe here… in town, I mean. Says it feels all closed in.”
Josiah nodded faintly, staring out across the street without really seeing it. “Yeah…Sometimes I feel just as lost as she does,” he admitted, leaning forward and resting his elbows against his knees, his hands hanging loose between them.
Vin shifted slightly against the rail. “Jake been around since she remembered him?”
Josiah nodded. “Some. He took her for a long ride a few days ago.” He paused, his jaw tightening faintly. “She came back in tears. He pushes her too hard. I know he means well… they used to be so close.” He let out a quiet breath. “Now ever thing’s changed.
His gaze drifted out across the street, unfocused. “If I could take her back to her village, her grandfather’d know what to do. But with the way things are… the army huntin’ ’em down, especially since Custer and all his men were killed up along the Greasy Grass…” He shook his head slightly. “God only knows if Standing Bear’s even still alive.”
Vin was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. “Ya know… it ain’t my place, but you ever think about taken’ her to see Ko-je?”
Josiah looked over at him. “Been thinkin’ on that.” He paused, considering it. “You suppose he’d be able to help set her straight again?”
Vin gave a small nod. “be worth it ta find out.”
Josiah drew in a slow breath. “I’ll talk to her about it tonight.”
He watched Vin a moment longer before adding, quieter, “Ya know… she trusts you, Vin. More’n anyone else right now. Even me.” He shook his head slightly. “I’m grateful.”
Vin’s mouth turned in a small, easy smile. “I like to think her an’ me are friends. That’s all. I ain’t family… and I ain’t after nothin’.” He shifted his weight lightly. “I’ll be there if’n either one of ya needs a hand.”
With that, Vin took hold of Peso’s reins gathering Wind’s as well, then turned toward the livery. The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows across the street, the light softening into warm shades of gold. Dust stirred lightly underfoot as he walked, the quiet of the day easing toward evening as the town settled into that familiar, slower rhythm.
~*~*~*~*~
Inside the saloon, Jake and Abe sat at a corner table. The place was alive with card players and saloon girls moving between them, carrying drinks and keeping company with their patrons. Laughter rose and fell in uneven bursts, the clink of glasses and the shuffle of cards blending into a steady kind of noise that filled the room without ever quite taking over. Buck was nowhere to be seen, having already scurried up the stairs with his favorite soiled dove. JD and Nathan had left more than an hour ago, JD off to supper with Casey and her Aunt Nettie, while Nathan had been called to a minor emergency.
Jake sat leaned back in his chair beer in hand as he took pulls from the mug and watched the room. Abe leaned on the table, staring into his glass, every now and again picking it up to drink then setting it back down again. One of the saloon girls came over to him and smiled. “need anything boys.” she spoke to both but her eyes were still on Abe.
“Now that you mention it,” Jake said with a grin, looking her over in that easy way of his, “might not turn down another round.”
The girl’s smile lingered, but her attention stayed mostly on Abe, waiting to see if he’d look up, if he’d say something to her. When he didn’t, she tilted her head just slightly, studying him a moment longer before her voice softened a touch.
“And you?” she asked.
Abe finally lifted his eyes, though not quite to meet hers, more somewhere past her shoulder. “I’m fine,” he said, quiet and without much weight behind it, before his gaze dropped back to the glass in his hand.
She held there another second, as if deciding whether to press it, then let it go with a small shrug and turned back to Jake. “I’ll bring that right over,” she said, her tone light again as she moved away into the flow of the room.
Jake watched her go a moment before glancing back at Abe, the grin easing just a fraction. He tipped his mug back for another pull, then set it down with a soft thud against the table.
“You’re gonna wear a hole in that glass if you keep starin’ at it like that,” he said, not pushing too hard, but not letting it pass either.
Abe didn’t answer right away. His thumb traced slowly along the rim of the mug, the motion absent, like he wasn’t aware he was doing it.
“I’m alright,” he muttered after a moment.
Jake let out a quiet breath through his nose, leaning forward just enough to rest his forearms on the table. “Didn’t say you weren’t.”
Across the room, the noise carried on without them, cards slapping down, laughter breaking out near the far table, boots shifting against the floorboards as the doors swung open and shut with the steady rhythm of the afternoon.
Abe lifted the glass and took a slow drink, then set it back down again, his eyes drifting toward the doors this time, lingering there just a second longer than before pulling back again.
Jake tipped his chair back slightly, watching him a moment. “She’s right there at the church,” he said, casual, but with a bit more edge under it. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you from goin’ to see her.”
Abe’s jaw tightened just slightly, almost too subtle to notice. “Maybe.”
Jake studied him a moment, then leaned forward, his chair landing with a thump. “You could walk over there right now,” he added. “Ask her to go for a walk or somethin’, instead of sittin’ here feelin’ sorry for yourself.”
Abe shook his head faintly, his gaze never lifting. “She still don’t remember much… not about me, anyways.”
Jake reached for his mug, taking a drink, then set it down again with a quiet thud. “So, give her something new to remember.”
Abe stayed quiet a moment longer, then swallowed the last of his beer and stood. “Maybe,” he said. “I got work ta do.” With that he headed for the door.
Jake watched him go, his expression shifting just slightly before he leaned back again, reaching for his mug, only to find it empty.
“Timing ain’t your strong suit,” he muttered under his breath.
The waitress returned a second later, setting a fresh beer down in front of him with an easy familiarity. “Here you go,” she said, her eyes flicking past him toward the door. “Your friend leave already?”
Jake glanced over his shoulder as Abe stepped out into the light, the door swinging slow behind him before settling back into place. He watched it a second longer than he needed to, then turned back to her. “Yeah… guess he remembered somethin’ important all of a sudden.”
She gave a small smile, but her attention lingered on Jake now, waiting without seeming to.
Jake’s hand settled around the mug, the cool glass turning slightly beneath his fingers, but he didn’t drink right away. His gaze moved over her instead, slower this time, more deliberate, the easy grin returning, but there was something else behind it now, something quieter, more certain.
“Well,” he said, his voice easy, “I’m still here, and I ain’t in no hurry.”
She held his look a moment, reading it clear enough without him sayin’ it outright, her expression shifting just a touch as she let out a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh.
“Upstairs is quieter,” she said, light, but not uncertain, her hand brushing briefly against the edge of the table as she turned slightly toward the stairs.
Jake’s grin widened just a fraction as he finally took a pull from his beer, not rushing it, letting the moment sit where it was. He set the mug back down with a quiet thud, his eyes never quite leaving her.
“Now that,” he said, pushing his chair back, “sounds like a better way to spend the evenin’.”
He rose without hurry, straightening just enough to settle himself, giving the room one last glance, not looking for anything in particular, just out of habit, before stepping after her as she moved toward the stairs, the noise of the saloon carrying on behind them.
~*~*~*~*~
The sky had started to deepen, the blue fading toward a darker shade as the last of the daylight stretched thin across the ground. Shadows lay long and uneven as merchants began closing their doors. Chris moved at an unhurried pace toward the saloon, his hat tipped low, his gaze drifting over the town, quiet and steady. Beside him, Vin walked easy, one hand resting near his belt, his eyes moving without hurry, always taking measure of what was around him, quiet and guarded. The batwing doors swung open just as they stepped onto the boardwalk. Abe let the doors swing shut behind him as he moved past them without so much as a glance. He crossed the street with purpose, heading toward the church, before he slowed, lingering a moment, then turning off in the direction of the livery. Chris’s eyes followed him a minute, a faint shift in his expression as he took in the change in direction.
Vin suddenly slowed, stopping after a few paces, Chris took another step before he too came to a halt just before they reached the saloon doors. Vins gaze shifted out toward the far edge of town, his eyes narrowing slightly as something caught his attention. Chris followed his line of sight.
Out beyond the last stretch of buildings, a rider came into view, his horse moved slow, not lazy, but spent, its head hanging low as each step was placed with effort instead of ease. The man in the saddle sat too straight for someone at the end of a long ride, not relaxed, not natural, held there by something tighter than muscle. Neither man spoke as they stood there watching the rider come in, not looking left or right, not taking in the town the way most men would. His eyes stayed fixed ahead, but he didn’t seem to see what was in front of him. The closer he came the more details came into clearer view, the dust caked faded blue Uniform, the cavalry coat that had seen too much trail and not enough care. The horse slowed, then stopped more on its own than by command, and the man remained in the saddle, unmoving, too still for comfort.
Vin moved a step closer, his boots quiet against the wood, with Chris just off his shoulder. The rider blinked slow, like it took effort to remember how. His eyes moved without settling, drifting past them, not quite seeing where he was, like the world in front of him didn’t line up with what he’d just ridden out of.
“…where’s the rest…?” he rasped, his voice rough, worn thin from more than just the trail.
Chris’s gaze stayed steady. “The rest of ’em?” he said. “Who are you lookin’ for?”
The soldier’s head turned toward the sound of his voice, but it lagged just enough to feel wrong, like the world wasn’t lining up properly for him. His fingers tightened weakly on the reins, knuckles pale beneath the dust.
“…they was ahead…” he muttered. “…on the ridge…” His breath caught, shallow, uneven. “…we rode down… and…”
The rest didn’t come. He tried to speak, the words were there but he couldn’t bring himself to get them out.
Vin and Chris exchanged a brief look.
“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Vin said under his breath.
Chris gave a slight nod, his attention never leaving the man.
The horse shifted beneath him, sides heaving slow and tired, its head hanging low as if it had been pushed farther than it ought to have been.
Chris stepped in a little closer, careful, not sudden. “You hurt?” he asked.
The soldier didn’t answer. His gaze drifted again, somewhere far off, fixed on something none of them could see.
“…dead…” he said finally, the word barely more than air. “…all of ‘em…”
His lips pressed together, then parted again, the next words coming harder.
“…cut up… scalped…mutilated…” His voice broke on it, like the memory itself was too much to hold steady.
Vin’s expression tightened just a fraction, his weight shifting back on one heel.
“…horses down… men… all over…” the soldier went on, the words uneven, slipping over each other. “…we rode right into it…”
His breathing picked up, shallow now, his chest rising too fast beneath the dust and sweat.
“…too late…” he whispered. “…they was already gone…”
His hand slipped on the reins, fingers tightening again like he was trying to hold onto something that wasn’t there anymore.
“…then they come…” he said, quieter now, the fear in it sharper than anything that came before. “…outta nowhere…”
His head jerked faintly, eyes widening just a fraction like he was seeing it again.
“…arrows…” he rasped. “…couldn’t see ’em… just… hittin’…”
Chris saw it the moment it shifted. The man swayed in the saddle, whatever had been holding him upright finally giving way, he stepped in without hesitation, catching him by the arm before he pitched forward. “Easy now,” he said, his voice steady, grounded.
Vin was there just as quick, taking the other side, his grip firm but careful as they eased him down.
The soldier’s boots hit the dirt uneven, his legs not holding beneath him.
“Hold up,” Vin muttered, shifting his stance to take more of the weight.
Between them, they guided him the few steps to the boardwalk and lowered him down, easing him onto the worn planks just outside the saloon doors. He sagged there, one shoulder against the post, his breath shallow, his head dipping forward before lifting again in a weak, unfocused effort to stay present. Chris crouched beside him, one hand steady at his arm, watching him close now, taking in every small detail. The man’s eyes moved again, unfocused.
“…couldn’t stop ’em…” he murmured.
His fingers twitched weakly against his leg, then stilled, for a moment, it looked like he might try to say more. Then whatever had been holding him together slipped. His head dropped forward, his body going slack where he sat, the last of that strained tension leaving him all at once.
Vin straightened slightly, glancing once toward the street, then back again. The horse still stood where it had stopped, reins hanging loose, sides rising and falling slow and heavy. He looked down at the man, then over at Chris.
“He’s done in.”
Chris gave a short nod. “Let’s get him to Nathan.”
Vin didn’t hesitate. He bent down, taking hold under the man’s arm, and Chris moved in on the other side, lifting him between them. The soldier didn’t help at all now, his weight sagging heavy, his boots dragging as they got him to his feet. They moved steady across the street, more carrying than walking, each step measured so he didn’t slip, the man barely aware of it. Behind them, the noise of the saloon carried on like nothing had changed, laughter, voices, the scrape of chairs, but it faded quick with distance, leaving only the quieter stretch of street ahead. Whatever he’d ridden out of… he still carried it.
~*~*~*~*~
Nathan pushed the door to his room open with his shoulder, setting his medical bag down on the small table just inside. The place still held the quiet he’d left it in earlier, undisturbed, the late afternoon light slipping in through the window and laying across the floor in long, warm stretches. He rolled one shoulder, working out the stiffness from the ride and the careful work that had followed. The boy had taken it well, better than most. It had been a clean break, after making sure it was set right He’d bound it tight. The arm would mend, given time. Nathan let out a slow breath, satisfied enough with that.
He crossed to the washbasin, pouring a bit of water and working the dust from his hands, the faint sting of it catching where the skin had cracked from use. The room was still, save for the small, familiar sounds of movement, the water, the cloth, the quiet shift of boots on wood, until voices carried in from outside, not loud but close enough to pull his attention. Nathan paused, lifting his head just slightly as he listened without turning, the sound of more than one set of footsteps following, uneven in a way that made him still where he stood. He dried his hands slowly, setting the cloth aside as he moved toward the door, his attention sharpening without haste. By the time he opened the door, Chris and Vin were already there, the soldier between them, more carried than walking. Nathan took it in at a glance, the uniform, the dust, the way the man sagged between them.
“That ain’t good,” he said quietly, already stepping aside for them to bring the man in.
“Rode in like that,” Vin answered, easing his hold just enough for Nathan to see better. “Don’t seem to know where he is.”
Nathan reached out, steadying the man’s chin just enough to lift his face, his eyes moving quick but careful as he took in what he could from what little the soldier was able to give. His expression tightened. “Get him inside,” he said, already turning and clearing the way back into the room. “Easy now, lay him out on the bed.”
Chris and Vin moved with him, guiding the soldier through the doorway, careful not to jar him more than necessary as Nathan stepped ahead, pulling the blanket back. Whatever had driven him this far had taken just about everything he had left. Nathan didn’t waste time once they had him settled, leaning in close, one hand braced lightly at the shoulder while the other found his pulse, there, but fast, too fast, and uneven beneath his touch.
“Been ridin’ a long while,” Nathan said, more to himself than to the others, his eyes flicking over the man’s face, the dryness at his lips, the dust ground deep into his skin. “Near run himself down to nothin’.”
Chris stood just off to the side, watching, his attention fixed on every move Nathan made. “He ain’t makin’ much sense,” he said.
Nathan gave a slight nod. “Exhaustion… maybe more.” His hand shifted, pressing lightly at the man’s chest, then moving to check his breathing. He paused there, his brow tightening just a fraction as he felt the heat coming off him. “He’s burnin’ up,” he added, quieter now. “Body’s tryin’ to keep up with somethin’ it ain’t got the strength for anymore.”
Vin moved a step closer, resting his weight back on one heel as he looked down at the soldier. “Kept sayin’ they rode into somethin’,” he said. “Didn’t make much sense.”
Nathan’s brow furrowed just slightly, but he didn’t look up. “Might be fever talk,” he said, though there was a note in his voice that suggested he wasn’t fully convinced.
The soldier stirred under his hands, a weak attempt at movement, his head turning just enough to pull away from the touch before settling again.
“…dead… all… ma…massacred…” he murmured, the word barely more than breath.
Nathan reached for the cloth at the washstand, dipping it into the basin before wringing it out and pressing it gently to the man’s forehead. “Easy,” he said quietly. “You’re safe now. Just stay still.”
Chris’s gaze shifted, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Massacred?” he said, the word sitting wrong. “Who’s he talkin’ about?”
Nathan shook his head, just as uncertain as the rest of them, though his hands never slowed, keeping his focus where it needed to be. He set the cloth aside and reached for his bag, opening it with practiced ease.
“Right now,” he said, his tone firming just slightly, “what matters is keepin’ him here long enough to tell us what happened.”
The soldier’s hand twitched again, fingers curling weakly against the blanket.
“…they didn’t see it…” he whispered.
Nathan stilled just a moment, then eased a hand to the man’s shoulder, steadying him. “Who didn’t?” he asked, his voice low.
The man’s brow tightened, like even that question was too much to hold. “…column…” he rasped. “Ahead… we was ridin’ up… didn’t see it…”
His breathing hitched, shallow and uneven.
Vin shifted slightly. “Didn’t see what?”
The soldier didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted, unfocused, somewhere far beyond the room.
“…bodies…” he whispered. “…all over… horses down… men…what they… done to em…”
Nathan pressed the damp cloth lightly to his forehead. “Easy,” he said. “You ain’t there no more.”
But the words kept coming, broken and strained.
“…scalped…” he rasped. “…too late…”
His fingers twitched again, as if they still held reins.
“…then they come…” he said, quieter now, the fear sharper in his voice. “…outta nowhere…”
Chris’s gaze sharpened.
“…arrows…” the soldier went on, his breath picking up. “…couldn’t see ’em… just… hittin’…”
Nathan’s hand steadied him. “You’re alright,” he said again.
For a moment, the man seemed to hear it. Then his eyes fixed somewhere past them, something snapping back into place that didn’t belong in the room.
“…they was all around…” he whispered. “…we rode straight into it…”
His hand jerked weakly against the blanket.
“…never saw ’em… not till they was on us…” His voice strained, breaking under it. “…we was overrun… no line… nowhere to go…”
He tried to draw another breath, but it caught hard. “…couldn’t…”
The rest fell apart. His body sagged back into the bed, whatever had been holding him together giving way all at once. His breathing turned ragged, his eyes losing what little focus they had left.
Nathan eased his grip, keeping a steady hand against him as he checked his breathing again, then shifted slightly, his eyes moving over the man more carefully now, looking past the dust and the coat.
“Hold him a minute,” he said, his tone quiet but focused as he began tugging the coat down off the man’s shoulders.
Chris stepped in without question, steadying the man as Nathan moved to the side, working the worn cavalry coat loose. The fabric was stiff with dirt and sweat, clinging more than it should, and it took a bit of effort to pull it free.
Chris kept him steady as Nathan worked it off the rest of the way, the weight of it dropping heavy in his hands before he set it aside. Without it, the soldier looked worse. Pale beneath the dirt, drawn tight through the face, the kind of color that didn’t come back easy. His breathing stayed uneven, shallow, his body giving only the barest response to being moved.
Nathan’s eyes moved over him quick but thorough now, checking for what might’ve been hidden, his hand brushing along the man’s side, his back, feeling for anything that didn’t belong. Then something caught his eye, he stilled for just a second. His hand moved more carefully, pushing the shirt aside just enough to see. The shaft was broken off short, buried deep beneath the cloth, the fletching gone, but there was no mistaking what remained.
Vin leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. “That an arrow?”
Nathan didn’t answer right away. He touched near it, careful not to press too hard, watching for any reaction. The man stirred faintly, a low sound catching in his throat, but his eyes never opened.
“Yeah,” Nathan said finally, his voice quieter now. “Been in there a while too.”
Chris’s gaze dropped to it, his expression hardening just a fraction, the pieces settling into place without needing to be said.
“Didn’t even know it was there,” Vin murmured.
Nathan shook his head slightly. “Adrenaline’ll do that… or he’s too far gone to feel it proper.” He drew in a slow breath, already shifting his thoughts ahead. Then his attention lingered a moment longer on the wound, his brow tightening as he took in the swelling around it, the darkened flesh, and the faint, sour smell that didn’t belong.
“Infection’s set in,” he said, his voice low, “bad.”
The soldier’s fingers twitched again against the blanket, his breath uneven and shallow.
Nathan’s jaw set slightly as he looked back to Chris. “I’m gonna have to get it out.”
Nathan pulled the coat back just enough to keep the wound covered for the moment, his hand steady as he looked up at Chris and Vin. “Doc Mason’s out at the Caulder ranch, Mrs. Caulder’s about ready to birth her first young’un. I could use Cheyenne’s help.
“I’ll get her,” Vin offered, already turning toward the door.
Chris stayed where he was a moment longer, his eyes still on the arrow, his thoughts turning over what little they knew and what it might mean. Then he straightened and turned toward Vin.
“I’ll go,” he said. “I want you to take Jake and scout the area. Make sure whoever put that arrow in him didn’t follow.”
The tracker paused just long enough to meet his eyes, then gave a short nod. “Alright.”
~*~*~*~*~
Vin didn’t waste time once he stepped out of Nathan’s room. The door closed behind him with a dull thud, and he took the stairs two at a time, boots hitting hard before he stepped out into the late afternoon light. The air felt different now, quieter, or maybe it just felt that way after what he’d just heard.
The soldier’s horse still stood where it had been left, head hanging low, reins dragging loose against its neck. It hadn’t wandered, hadn’t shifted much at all, just stood there like it didn’t have the strength to do anything else. Vin approached it slow, his eyes moving over it the same way they had the rider. The animal’s sides were drawn tight, ribs showing more than they should, its coat dulled with sweat and trail dust ground deep into it. Foam had dried along the reins and at the corners of its mouth, and one ear flicked weakly at his approach before settling again.
“Yeah…” Vin murmured under his breath, reaching up to take hold of the reins. “You been pushed hard.”
The horse shifted just enough to acknowledge him, but it didn’t fight, didn’t resist. It just followed when he gave it a gentle pull, step by tired step as he led it down the street toward the livery.
The livery was quiet when he reached it, the front doors standing open as he walked through. Abe was at one of the stalls, working a brush along a horse’s flank, his attention on the task until the sound of Vin leading another horse in, caught it. He finished the stroke before lowering the brush, his eyes shifting over, moving from Vin to the animal and back again, the question already there before he said a word. Abe set the brush aside and walked over to him, his gaze narrowing as he took in the sight of the horse. He reached out, running a hand lightly along the horse’s neck, feeling the heat still trapped beneath the skin, the tightness of muscle that had been driven too far for too long.
“Damn…” he muttered, low. “he’s been near ridden to death.”
Vin nodded once. “Looks that way.”
Abe crouched slightly, his hand moving down along the leg, checking without rush, his touch careful and practiced. The horse shifted faintly under it, but didn’t pull away.
“How long?” Abe asked, glancing up.
Vin shook his head a little. “Not sure, long enough I suppose.”
Abe straightened slowly, his eyes moving over the animal again, taking in the worn tack, the dust caked into every seam, the way the horse held itself like it had nothing left to give. His gaze dropped briefly to the brand, then back again, something settling in behind his eyes.
“Cavalry horse,” he said, more certain now. “Ain’t no short ride put this on him. This is days… weeks maybe.”
Vin’s gaze drifted for a moment, not on the horse now, but somewhere past it. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Reckon it is.”
Abe studied him a second, catching something in the tone more than the words. “Where’d he come from?”
Vin didn’t answer, He reached out, resting a hand lightly against the horse’s shoulder, feeling the heat of it, the tremor still there beneath the skin.
“Came in outta nowhere,” he said after a moment. “ Man ridden him didn’t know where he was, kept mumblin about a massacre.”
Abe’s brow tightened slightly, his eyes flicking once toward the street, then back again. “He alone?”
Vin nodded. “As far as we seen.”
Abe let out a slow breath, his hand dropping back to his side. His eyes moved once more over the horse, lingering now, something unsettled working its way in.
“That ain’t right,” he said.
Vin didn’t argue.
“Chris sent me to get Jake,” he added after a moment. “Wants us to ride out, take a look around. Make sure whatever he come through ain’t followin’ him.”
Abe nodded, already removing the tack and saddle from the exhausted animal. “He ain’t gonna like bein’ pulled outta whatever he’s doin’,” he said, though there was no humor in it. “He’s still at the saloon.”
Vin gave the faintest hint of a smile. “He’ll get over it.”
Abe smirked. “Last I saw him, he was talkin’ to some little floozy. Think I’d tread light if I was you.”
Vin gave a small nod. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
~*~*~*~*~
The church was quiet, the kind of quiet that settled deep and stayed there, broken only by the faint creak of wood and the soft whisper of the breeze moving through the open door. The light had begun to change, slipping in lower now, stretching across the floor in long, golden lines that reached toward the pulpit and the back wall beyond it.
Cheyenne was in her room, seated on the edge of the bed, her elbows braced against her knees, her head bowed into her hands. The light from the church didn’t reach far back there, leaving the space dim and quiet, the air still around her as the dull ache behind her eyes began to build again. Her fingers pressed lightly at her temples, not fighting it, just trying to hold steady through it.
Josiah stood just outside the doorway at first, watching her a moment before stepping in. He didn’t rush it, didn’t crowd her, just came in quiet and steady the way he always did.
“Another one a your headaches?” he asked.
Cheyenne gave a small nod, her hands stayed where they were.
Josiah moved a little closer, stopping just short of the bed. “You need your medicine?”
She shook her head, finally lowering her hands, though she kept her gaze down. “No. Only… the tea.”
“Alright.” He gave a small nod. “I’ll get it.”
He watched her a moment longer, something in the way she sat there, in the weight she carried even in stillness, holding him where he was.
“You rode a ways,” he added after a moment, his voice low. “Vin didn’t push you too hard, did he?”
Cheyenne shook her head slightly. “No. He does not push.”
A faint hint of something touched Josiah’s expression, though it didn’t quite reach a smile. “No,” he agreed. “He wouldn’t.”
Silence settled again, quieter in the small room. Cheyenne drew in a slow breath, lifting her head just a little now, though her eyes didn’t rise far. “The water was clear,” she said. “It moved as it always has.” Her voice softened. “Some things do not change.”
Josiah studied her a moment. “No,” he said gently. “Some things don’t.”
She let out a breath, her hands dropping now to rest against her thighs. “Others do.”
Josiah shifted his weight slightly, his hand brushing against the bedpost as he considered his words. “Doesn’t always mean they’re gone,” he said. “Just… different than they were.”
Cheyenne was quiet for a moment, then lifted her eyes enough to look toward him. “I remember things,” she said. “But they do not feel the same.”
Josiah nodded slowly. “That’s bound to happen. Memories come back one piece at a time. Sometimes they don’t fit together right away.”
She studied him, something searching in her expression. “I remember how I felt,” she said. “That has not changed.” Her voice lowered just slightly. “But everything around it has.”
Josiah stepped a little closer, not enough to crowd her, just enough that he was there if she needed him.
“You ain’t gotta sort it all out today,” he said. “Or tomorrow.”
Cheyenne’s gaze drifted again, not quite settling. “I do not know where I belong.”
Josiah’s jaw tightened just slightly, though his voice stayed steady. “You’re right where you’re meant to be. Even if it don’t feel that way yet.”
She didn’t argue it, but she didn’t accept it either. She just sat there, the pain in her head building quiet and steady, caught somewhere between what she remembered… and what no longer felt the same.
“Just rest,” Josiah said after a moment, his voice gentling. “Don’t think about nothin’. I’ll get your tea.”
He stepped out, giving her that space, the quiet settling back in around her as he moved into the main part of the church. He didn’t go far, just long enough to set the kettle and prepare what he needed, his thoughts still on her, on the way she’d been sitting, the weight she carried even when she said nothing. It hadn’t taken him long. He had watched Cheyenne make the medicine tea more times than he could count, willow bark, a touch of mint, and within a few minutes he had it ready. He carried it back to her, made sure she drank, and left her to rest. He was just stepping out from her room, pulling the door mostly closed behind him, when the church doors opened.
Chris stepped in, his hat still low, but there was something in his expression that didn’t belong to the quiet of the church. He closed the door behind him, his eyes finding Josiah. He gave a slow nod of greeting as he crossed the room. “Josiah.”
The ex-preacher returned his greeting with a nod of his own. “Chris… something wrong?” He already knew the answer before he asked it.
“Could be.” Chris answered. “A man rode in a few minutes ago,” he continued.. “Looks like he could be calvery… or was. He’s been ridin’ a good long while. It don’t look good.”
Josiah’s brow tightened slightly. “What happened?”
Chris shook his head faintly. “don’t know for sure. His minds about gone, can’t get a straight word out a him, but he’s got a arrow in his back, ” He paused a moment, letting that settle. “Nathan’s got him over at his place.”
Josiah’s gaze shifted just slightly, his mind already turning over what that might mean, but he didn’t say it.
“Nathan say’s he could use Cheyenne’s help.”
Josiah’s eyes moved toward her room, then back to the man in black.
“She’s restin’,” he said, giving a small shake of his head. “she just drank some a her tea and laid down for a spell.”
Chris held his gaze, steady. “Nathan wouldn’t ask if he didn’t need it.”
“I know that,” Josiah replied, his voice still even, but firmer now. “And I know what she needs.” He drew in a slow breath, steadying it. “She ain’t well, Chris. Her head’s been givin’ her trouble again.”
Chris didn’t push, he let it sit, his eyes shifting briefly toward the back of the church, then returning.
“Man don’t look like he’s gonna last long,” he said, quiet and plain.
“I’ll go… see if I can lend a hand,” Josiah offered.
The door to Cheyenne’s room opened, and she stepped out slowly, her medicine bundle in hand. “I will go.” Her voice was quiet, but certain.
Chris gave a small nod, accepting it without question.
Josiah turned toward her, his expression tightening. “Cheyenne, you should be restin’.”
She didn’t stop. “I will be fine.”
“The headaches…”
“They will pass,” she said, not raising her voice, but not leaving room for argument either.
Josiah hesitated, not wanting to push her, and not wanting her to push herself.
She met his eyes, steady, unmoving. “I will go,” she told him again. The words didn’t change, neither did she.
Josiah let out a slow breath, the fight easing out of him even if the worry didn’t. He gave a small shake of his head. “Stubborn,” he muttered, though there was no heat behind it.
Chris let the faintest grin slip. “Wonder where she gets it from?” He cast a look at Josiah.
Josiah didn’t answer, he just watched as Cheyenne moved past him, already heading for the door.
Chris stepped aside to let her pass, then followed after without another word.
Josiah stood there a moment longer before following them out.
~*~*~*~*~
The batwing doors swung open as Vin stepped into the saloon, the noise hitting him first, laughter, voices, the scrape of chairs and boots across the floorboards. The late afternoon light still filtered in through the windows, catching the haze of smoke that hung low in the room, it hadn’t slowed any, if anything, it had picked up.
Vin paused just inside long enough to take it in, his eyes moving over the room without hurry, looking for Jake. Ezra at his table shuffling cards, a couple of men on the other side of the room arguing over something that didn’t matter much, and saloon girls moving through it all like they belonged there. But still no Jake.
Vin started forward, angling toward the stairs without making a show of it, when Buck stepped down off the last stair, adjusting his vest like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Well now,” Buck grinned, “that’s a sight I didn’t expect. You come lookin’ for trouble, or just wander in by mistake?”
“Lookin’ for Jake, you seen him?”
“Yeah, I seen him head upstairs a while back,” he said, tipping his head slightly toward the landing. “Rachel’s room, if I had to guess.” He gave a low chuckle. “Might wanna knock first… or maybe give it a minute.”
Vin gave a small nod, like he’d expected it. “Gonna need him.”
Buck studied him a second, the grin easing a little more now. “That so?”
“Chris wants the area checked,” Vin said. “Had a rider come in, he’s in bad shape. Looks to be a soldier. Been ridin’ a long while, ain’t right in the head…” He paused a fraction. “Nathans seen to him.”
Buck’s expression shifted, the humor easing out of it, his attention settling fully on Vin now. “Ain’t right how?” he asked, the edge of concern coming through under the casual tone.
Vin shook his head slightly. “Talkin’ strange. Don’t know where he is… keeps sayin’ they rode into somethin’ they couldn’t see.” He glanced toward the stairs, then back again. “Nathan found an arrow in him.”
Buck straightened a little, his grin gone now. “Arrow?” he repeated, quieter.
Vin nodded. “Deep. Been there a while.”
Buck let out a slow breath, his hand settling against the rail beside him as he thought it through. “And Chris wants the area checked,” he said, more to himself than anything.
“Yeah,” Vin answered. “Make sure whatever he come through didn’t follow him in.”
Buck’s eyes shifted briefly toward the door, then back to Vin. The room around them carried on like nothing had changed, but it didn’t reach him the same way anymore.
“You goin’ up after him?” Buck asked, nodding toward the stairs.
“Yup,” Vin said, giving a slight nod as he shifted his weight, his eyes flicking toward the stairs.
Buck snickered, the grin coming back. “Oh, I gotta see this.”
He turned without waiting, heading for the stairs, taking them two at a time with a kind of eager curiosity that hadn’t quite caught up to the situation yet.
Vin stayed where he was a second, watching him go, then shifted his weight and followed at a slower pace.
Buck reached the top of the stairs and disappeared down the hall, the sound of his boots carrying just enough to mark where he was headed.
Vin took the steps without hurry, listening as Buck’s voice carried faintly ahead of him, followed by a knock that wasn’t much of a knock at all.
“Jake,” Buck called, not bothering to keep it down much. “Ohh, Jaaake… you might wanna come on outta there… unless you’re plannin’ on stayin’ put while the rest of us go have all the fun.”
He shot Vin a quick grin, then leaned in closer to the door. “Jaaakey… come on out and play…don’t make me come in there.”
There was a pause on the other side of the door, not long, just enough to say Buck had been heard. Then a muffled voice came through, rough with annoyance more than anything else. “This better be good, Buck.”
Buck leaned one shoulder against the frame, grinning like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, it’s real good,” he said. “Vin’s standin’ out here lookin’ for you, and Chris sent him.”
There was a shift inside, the sound of movement, something set down in a hurry that wasn’t quite careless, followed by a muttered word that didn’t carry clear.
The door opened a crack first, then wider. Jake stood there, shirt half buttoned, hair still a little out of place, his expression set somewhere between irritation and curiosity. His eyes moved past Buck, landing on Vin standing just behind him.
“What the hell’s Chris want with me?” he snapped, the frustration clear in his voice.
“Got a bit of a situation.” Vin said keeping a grin hid at Jakes disarray. “Chris wants you and me to ride out check things over.”
Jake’s expression shifted, the annoyance easing out of it as he listened. “What happened?”
Vin shook his head slightly. “Don’t know the whole of it.” He paused a fraction, keeping his voice low. “Could be Indian trouble.”
Jake’s jaw tightened just a little, his eyes flicking once toward Buck, then back to Vin. “And Chris wants me to go with you.” he said, more statement than question.
Vin nodded. “You and me’s the obvious choice.”
Jake let out a slow breath, his hand dropping to his side. For a second, it looked like he was already halfway there, ready to move. Then something else caught him, and he glanced back over his shoulder into the room, just for a moment.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.
Buck smirked faintly. “Yeah… that’s about the size of it.”
Jake dragged a hand through his hair, thinking it through, then looked back at Vin. “I got a freight run at first light,” he said. “Can’t be ridin’ out half the night and leave a full team sittin’. B’sides, it ain’t me that gets paid to protect this town. That’s you and the others.” His tone stayed even, matter of fact. “Runnin’ freight pays good money.”
Vin didn’t argue it. Jake had a point. Still, his gaze lingered a moment longer, weighing it. Jake knew more of the country than most of them, and more about the people in it too, but a man had to choose where he stood.
Jake held his gaze a second longer, then gave a short shake of his head, having already made the call. “You need another rider.”
Vin gave a small nod. “Alright.”
Buck pushed off the doorframe. “Well now,” he said, easy again, though the edge was back underneath it, “good thing I just freed up my evenin’.”
Jake gave him a quick look.
Buck shrugged once. “Ain’t the first time I traded one kind of trouble for another.”
That pulled the faintest hint of a smirk out of Jake, but it didn’t last long.
“I won’t be back for a couple a days,” Jake said. “Abes got damn near as much Indian savvy as I do, You need anything, go to him.”
Vin gave a small nod.
Jake stepped back, letting the door swing in just enough as he watched them head back toward the stairs.
~*~*~*~*~
By the time Chris, Josiah, and Cheyenne reached Nathan’s, the light had shifted lower, the heat easing just enough to take the edge off the day. The door stood open, the faint smell of sweat, blood, and medicinal herbs drifting out into the street. Chris stepped in first, moving aside to let Cheyenne pass without crowding her.
Nathan was already at the bed, sleeves rolled, his hands working steady as he glanced up at the sound of them entering. His eyes went straight to Cheyenne, greeting her with a short nod. “I could use you.”
Cheyenne didn’t answer. She stepped forward without hesitation, setting her medicine bundle near the table as her gaze moved to the man on the bed.
He lay facedown, his body slack, whatever fight had been in him gone for now. The color had drained from him, leaving his skin pale beneath the dirt, his breathing uneven, shallow in a way that didn’t sit right. The bandage across his back had darkened through, and beneath it, the smell had turned, foul, heavy, unmistakable.
Cheyenne stilled just slightly, her eyes taking it in, the swelling beneath the cloth, the darkened edges of the wound. “I cannot help this,” she said quietly.
Nathan shook his head once. “You ain’t meant to.” He moved closer, pulling the bandage back just enough to expose what lay beneath. “Arrow’s buried deep. Shaft snapped off… ain’t nothin’ to get hold of.” He glanced at her. “I gotta cut it out.”
Josiah came in behind her, slower, his eyes taking it all in, the tension settling into his shoulders without him saying a word.
Nathan reached into his bag, pulling out a small bottle and a cloth. “Doc Mason showed me this,” he said, pouring a measure onto the cloth. The sharp scent rose faintly as he held it near the man’s face. “Ether. Keep him under long enough to do what needs doin’.”
He watched the soldier a moment as the breathing shifted, deepening just slightly, then gave a small nod and looked back to Cheyenne. “I’ll need you steady,” he said, his voice even. “Hold the light. Hand me what I ask for.”
Josiah’s hand hovered near her shoulder, not quite touching now, his gaze fixed on the man, then shifting to her.
Cheyenne didn’t hesitate. She stepped forward, kneeling beside the bed, her hands already moving as she laid out what she would need.
Nathan turned back to the wound, his focus narrowing as he drew in a slow breath, setting his instruments in place.
“What can I do to help?” Josiah asked.
Nathan didn’t look up. “Just pray.”
