Chapter 17, Part Two

No Honor; Chapter 17 Part 2: Challenges

We escorted Mitchell back ta third, and tha grocery. Me and him tied up our horses, while Carter remained mounted. I nodded to 'im.

"Goin' back to your tent?"

Carter said, " Soon. I'm almo-

"...almost..."

Somethin' was wrong. He had this strain on his face, and he was takin' these long... very long and labored breaths.

I said, "Are you alright?"

He nodded and put up a hand, then he put his hands on his hips, looked at his saddle, and breathed. Breathed like he was stuck in a coffin, and there was only so much air ta be had. Mitch was silent at the time, but I could feel 'im starin' at me. I shared his concern, but we waited patient, and after a minute or so, he started breathin' normal.

Mitch said, "What the hell was that?"

Carter shook his head.

"Nothin", he said. "It's just... that damn drug."

I said, "Are you sure yer alright?"

He nodded. "Yeah... Go on in and slap Rex around fer me. I'll meet up with ya, later taday."

He didn't wait ta talk any more. Shadow was spun around, and given spur, and the two of 'em was off and quickly gone. As I watched 'em leave, I felt Mitch's eyes on me again.

He said, "That isn't good".

"I know it."

We went inside. Mitch went ta join 'is better half, and I found Dancer, sittin' on the floor, in front of the other guests. That seat in front of Rex hadn't moved, so I took it up, and addressed 'im.

"You know of anythang better than that Laudanum you been givin'?"

He said, "What do you mean by bet'a?"

"I mean somethin' that don't make a man breathe like a beached fish."

He looked at me a moment, studying.

Then he said, "So... wha'? Are you 'is nurse now? Pardon me, but what the fuck do you care?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Aw'right, yeah, there is somethin' bet'a; et's called Morphine, and he refused it."

"Ain't you got nothin' else?"

There was that look again.

He said, "What I have, what I gave him, was very sound medical advice, that any sane, rational person would've listened to... It's called 'bed rest'. It's called 'time to heal'...

"But since we're not talking about a sane person, or a rational person, it's no wonder why he's acting like an idiot. What I'm clueless about, is why you're doin' the same."

I said, "What the hell are you sayin'?"

"Wha' I'm sayin is, I don't know what you're doing here. I'm fucking clueless... I mean the Indian makes sense at least. Him, I get et... But 'ow did he string you along?"

That stopped me. What reason did I have for bein' there? I thought about it a minute, then I said, "I'm int'rested in seein' Roy get caught."

"Oh are ya? It's a good and worthy cause, innit?"

"That's right."

He said, "And because o' that good cause, we're willing ta have a town tear itself apart, ta see et done. Excuse me if I don't applaud...

"Look, if either of you had any sense et'all, you'd let me loose, and give me me bloody medicine, and stop following a madmin... Because if you don't, if you don't realize what you're doing, a lot of people are going to die, for no good goddamn reason."

I said, "So we're supposed ta let him go free? Is that it? We're supposed ta to let you crush men ta death, an' turn tha otha way?"

Rex said, "Let me say it again. Roy Larson is a dead man. Alright?... You get et?... If you bet on him pulling through this, I've got some other shit ta sell ya."

He laughed.

"Trust me..." he said, "All of this is nonsense. And don't let 'im tell you any different. There is no reason ta think that Roy's beating the odds here. For a man in his condition, to make up the amount o' blood 'e lost... to even walk out of 'ere, without fear of cardiac arrest... he'd have to wait a minimum, a minimum... of six, bloody, months, and more than likely, a year...

"One... year... And that fucking, crazy, bastard, Carter knows that."

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