Sundown Sinners

Chapter Six: Cowpoke Courtesy

"Just how stupid are you?" Caleb's words cut hard, his control stretched thin as glass. His hands shook at his sides, loaded with a violence he was forcing inward, and I had the sense he was only a breath away from losing it. I touched the tender bruises on my neck, a small, useless gesture, and found I had no idea how to answer that kind of rage.

"It was just a bit of fun." Silas grumbled. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support beam of the wall tent, giving the illusion of a man unbothered. His spine, however, was far too straight for relaxation. I wondered if the two of them had come to blows before. It was more widely accepted back in the Wild West to settle disagreements with actions rather than words. Provided no one died, what did the law care?

"A bit of fun is making out. Having a quick fuck in the mud." Caleb strode forward and grabbed my arm gently, rolling back the sleeve of my borrowed clothes. They fit me quite nicely, actually. Doc Mallory really did have a similar body type. But, then again, it might have just been game logic. I wondered what would happen if I looted clothes from someone much larger than me. "Look at what you did to him, Silas!" Caleb hissed, displaying my forearm to his brother.

My skin was already blossoming with red blotches underneath the minor scrapes and scabs. I knew those shapes, had they been real, would have turned a variety of colors in the coming days. Like spring flowers, they would transform into a bright, tender purple. Over the next week, the color would leech from them as if drunk in by the sun, and they would wither into shades of yellow and green before finally disappearing. I wondered briefly if there were healing potions or health kits in this game. That would certainly make my life easier.

Silas glanced at my arm before he immediately looked away, his gaze latching onto a particularly interesting spot on the tent ceiling. "I don't know what you want me to say." He muttered. "What's done is done. He bit the fuck out of my lip, you don't see me crying over it."

I pulled my arm back from Caleb. "I'm not crying about anything!" I retorted.

"You damn well should be." Caleb shook his head in disbelief. "When I sent you to bathe, I don't know what part of that order meant to go fuck my brother in the woods like a wild animal." His words didn't hold any contempt. In fact, they didn't necessarily sound all that angry, either. Caleb was likely more worried about how the rest of the crew would perceive this turn of events than actually pissed off.

I looked down at the ground, embarrassed. "You wanted us to get along. So... we found a way."

Silas wrinkled his nose, but stayed silent. Caleb shook his head in exasperation.

"Well, since you two are getting along so well," He drew out the last word, as if displaying his sarcasm clearly for children who might not understand the concept. "I suppose you told Silas the news of your new job?"

Silas leveled his gaze at the both of us. "New job?"

I glanced at his direction and winced. He had seemed attached to Doc Mallory, and already betrayed by my presence. Sure, we had a random, ill-advised screw in the underbrush, but that didn't make us lovers.

"I'm supposed to assume Doctor Mallory's role." I mumbled. "As physician."

Silas blinked at me for a moment before turning his gaze to his brother. "You're kidding, right?" His voice sounded more shocked than angry. "You take a random guy who we've just met and you just decide to put our lives in his hands?" Okay, now he was sounding more angry. "What are you going to do next, brother? Hand him a gun and teach him how to aim it at our backs?"

Caleb didn't rise to the bait. In fact, he seemed to calm down as Silas began to shout. "Actually, I was hoping you would do that."

Silas stared at his brother with raised eyebrows, his mouth slightly agape. To be fair, I couldn't really understand what Caleb had just said either. Was he seriously considering teaching me how to shoot? As game logic went, that made sense. I was probably still in the tutorial phase. First, there was a bit of exposition, and now was the time I learned the mechanics. Yet, from a story standpoint, they had no real reason to trust me.

"No retort?" Caleb asked. He clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Good. It's about time you started taking orders." He gave Silas a hard look. "You are going to take him shooting. Tonight, preferably. If you get a buck or a wolf, skin it. Bring back the meat, and we'll take what we can to the Washoe in the morning. See if they have any info on Mallory or otherwise." He walked over to the trunk on the ground of the tent and lifted its lid, fishing around for something. When he finally found it, he stood abruptly and offered the object to me without hesitation.

In Caleb's hands was a rectangular wooden box, dented and splintering with age and wear. I grabbed it from him hesitantly, almost dropping it because of the sudden weight. Whatever it was, it was heavy. Silas watched with silent shock as I opened the box on the exam table, revealing a medium-frame revolver. Packaged in black velvet, there was an extra cylinder, a stick, a lock, a key, and several other accessories. The revolver itself was made of a dark metal, its barrel long and slim with a wooden handle stamped with S&W on the butt.

"That doesn't belong to him-" Silas retorted, but Caleb held up a hand to silence his baby brother.

"It does now. If Hank comes back, we'll get Elliot a new one. But for now, we need to keep up appearances."

"Keep up appearances?" Silas asked incredulously. "Elliot and Hank look nothing alike!"

Wow, I was honestly surprised he even remembered my name. Then again, maybe that fuck did earn me some respect, however small.

"Barely anyone saw the Doc unless he was operating on 'em." Caleb responded. "Elliot will fill in. If anyone does know Doc, they'll be our most useful sources of information on his whereabouts."

"Why did no one see him?" I asked, confused. "Hasn't he been with you for a while?"

"The Doc liked staying in his tent and pouring over his precious books." Caleb answered. "I imagine you might do something similar. I'm sure you have a lot to learn about fixing up folks."

"Let me get this straight," Silas interrupted. "You want someone with no medical experience filling in as our doctor? Why not me? Why not Cookie? Both of us assisted Doc with most of his procedures."

He had a point. While I technically had thought about pursuing a doctorate degree, it hadn't been for medicine. As I had stressed earlier, the most experience I had was pulling a splinter out of a cat's paw. Then again, there was no way that medicine in this world was really all that complicated. I probably just had to hover my hand over a wound and mentally click heal or something.

"You both have jobs." Caleb answered calmly. "Elliot doesn't."

"So you give the new guy a tent, clothes, a gun, and a title while the rest of us get nothing?" Silas was gesturing wildly with his hands. I closed the box containing the revolver gently, just in case Silas was inclined to use it. As soon as I thought it, however, I recognized the gun at his waist. Then, the knives on his thigh. The more I looked, the more I saw just how stacked he was. If Silas was flush with potential weapons, one revolver probably didn't mean much to him.

"Remember that Elliot didn't join us willingly, Silas." Caleb told him. "We may have saved him from the rope, but we were also the ones that put him there. If his story is true, he was likely a passenger on that train who got caught up in the commotion. We stole his memories, his reputation, and now we're stealing his freedom too." Caleb glanced at me as he spoke, catching my eye. "We can't just let him leave, after all."

No, they really couldn't. Even if they did trust me not to blab about them to the first law enforcement I could find, I was a liability nonetheless. I could easily be taken by a rival gang and tortured for their location, or used as a bargaining chip, or whatever. It didn't matter that I wasn't truly a part of the gang, what mattered was that this world thought I was.

Silas shook his head in disbelief. "Taking in strays is going to be our undoing, Caleb."

"You were the first one I took in." Caleb responded harshly. "Don't forget that."

A flash of pain struck Silas' face, before he replaced it with an enraged glower. "Whatever. Do what you want. Next time, it will be all of us up there on the gallows with ropes around our necks." He brushed past me, his shoulder whacking against mine unnecessarily. "You'll regret this, brother." He grumbled under his breath before leaving us alone in the tent.

I turned to face Caleb, unsure of what to say. The temperature of the tent seemed to have dropped by several chilly degrees.

Caleb looked at the entrance to the tent with a sigh, shaking his head. "He's about the dumbest decision I ever made." He mumbled.

"What does that mean, exactly?" I asked.

Caleb studied my face for a moment, before shaking his head. "It's still not time for any of that, little doctor. I think it's best that you study up until I call for you. Silas will come around." He tilted his hat at me before moving to exit as well.

With a sigh, I leaned over the trunk and reached for the stack of books. My hips ached and I groaned to myself, standing back up with a wince. For being a simulated experience, Bertie sure knew how to program sore muscles. I didn't even know how something like that could be possible, but it was definitely exceeding expectations.

Caleb paused in the doorway, the flap half open as if he was debating on truly leaving or not. "Does it hurt?" He asked, his voice low.

"Does what hurt?" I asked, rubbing gentle circles into my lower back with my thumbs.

"What he did to you?" Caleb mumbled.

"He didn't do anything to me." I answered flatly. "I'm not a victim of Silas." If anything, I was trying to make him a victim of me.

"Very well." Caleb dipped his head. I expected him to leave, but still he hovered in the doorway.

"You know, if you want to stay, you can just say so." I called out to him. "If you keep standing there with the tent open, you'll let in a draft." I don't know why I had to egg him on, but Caleb seemed like the type that could take it. Hell, for all I knew, he might have even enjoyed it.

Caleb sat frozen in time for so long that I assumed a text box was about to appear. And yet, nothing happened. I opened my mouth to say something to him again, but he turned to face me before I got the chance. Caleb's face was unreadable and vaguely threatening as he suddenly stalked toward me. I stumbled backward, my back grazing the cloth wall of the tent. Clearly, I had fucked up.

"Can I help you?" I asked awkwardly, my face flushing slightly at the close proximity.

Caleb didn't answer, his hands raising to cup my cheeks. He raised my chin slightly and stared down at me, his fingers tracing against my skin light as a feather. I didn't know what to do, and so I did nothing, staring up at him like a confused child.

"I suppose it isn't a bad idea to teach you how to patch yourself up, first." He mumbled mostly to himself. I blinked at him.

"Uh... yeah. I guess that would be a good thing to know." Caleb's hands lingered on my face a second longer, his thumbs brushing just under my cheekbones before he let go. Then they began to travel down my chest, slow and unhurried, until his fingers reached the place where my shirt disappeared into the waistband of my pants.

"You should strip." He mumbled. "It'll be easier to see the extent of the damage."

For some reason, I suddenly felt very hot. The temperature of this damn tent was too inconsistent. I would have to talk to Bertie about that. He really ought to look into fixing shit like this. I swallowed and tried not to think about how close he was.

"Sure..." I whispered. I reached for my suspenders, fumbling slightly, but Caleb shook his head and caught my wrists before I could do much. Without a word, he took over. His fingers were deft and practiced, unhooking the suspenders and sliding them down my sides until they hung loose at my hips. He unbuttoned my pants next, tugging my shirt free from the waistband before working his way up the front of it, one button at a time. His knuckles brushed my skin with every movement, not teasing, exactly, but impossible to ignore.

"Silas really didn't hurt me too bad." I told Caleb in a hushed voice, as if I was afraid of getting caught. I knew that if someone walked in on us, they probably wouldn't care. That was just how this game worked. And yet, I couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. "Anything that I got, I probably did to myself."

"I know." Caleb told me gently, his tone mirroring mine. "Even Silas wouldn't jump your bones the minute he saw you naked. He's a bit more gentlemanly than that." He hesitated slightly as he reached the button around my collar. "Well, mostly." He added dryly. There was a soft grin on his lips that spoke to a love for his brother I hadn't yet witnessed. Everyone here seemed to be loyal to Caleb, but I hadn't yet seen love anywhere, even among the married couple. Yet, there was something brotherly in Caleb's gaze as he thought of little brother.

He eased my shirt over my head, then the undershirt beneath it, leaving my upper body bare to the cooler air. His gaze swept over my back as his fingers traced the shallow cuts and scrapes there, cataloguing the damage without comment.

When he turned me around, his index finger followed the length of my spine, slow and grounding. I felt myself tense when his fingers reached the waistband of my pants, expecting him to tug them down too, but he didn't. He stopped there, as if deliberately giving me time to breathe. There was a patience in Caleb that I hadn't yet experienced in a man. If he was going to feast, he apparently was going to take his time.

"How exactly do I patch myself up?" I asked, mostly to break the silence before it swallowed me whole. If I didn't, I was afraid I would jump his bones. "If I'm supposed to be doing this for other people."

His hands came to rest on my shoulders. "It's fairly straightforward," he said. Then his thumbs began to move, pressing into the tight muscles there in slow, steady circles. The sensation made me suck in a breath. Was he giving me a massage? It was so absurd, I didn't even know how to react. I tried to look at him over my shoulder, but his hands stopped..

"Look forward," he told me, calm but firm. "And drop your shoulders."

I did as he said, forcing myself to let go of the tension I hadn't realized I was holding. The moment I did, his hands resumed, digging in a little deeper.

"Most folks think medicine's about fixing things," he continued. "Bones. Blood. Holes where there shouldn't be holes." His hands drifted lower, working their way down my back, finding every sore spot along my spine. "But that's only half of it."

I swallowed, trying not to lean back into him too obviously. "What's the other half?"

"Keeping a person comfortable." He dug his thumbs in just enough to make me hiss, then eased off. "Calm. If someone's hurting and scared, their body fights you every step of the way. But if you can get them to breathe, to loosen up..." His hands slowed, more soothing now. "They heal easier. Listen better. Even the toughest assholes do."

That made something click. "Is that how stockmanship works too?" I asked "You keep an animal calm so it doesn't spook, doesn't hurt itself?" I remembered Reverend Boone sitting beside me in the jail cell, calming me without my consent.

Caleb gave a low hum of agreement. "Or you. You rush a horse, you get kicked. You rush a patient..." He shook his head. "Fine line between helping and making it worse."

I shifted my weight, the tension in my back easing under his touch. "Funny," I murmured. "That's kind of how seduction feels too. You push too hard, people shut down. But if you make them comfortable first..." I trailed off, suddenly aware of what I'd admitted.

For a heartbeat, he was still. Then he let out a soft, surprised chuckle near my ear. "Guess it is a bit like that." His voice warmed. "And you'd know more about that than most, wouldn't you, little doctor?"

My face burned, but I couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at my mouth. "Maybe."

His hands slid to my hips, steady and grounding. "Come on," he said, gentler now. "You'll get more out of this if you're lying down."

He guided me toward the bedroll, waiting until I settled onto my stomach before kneeling beside me. My pants and underwear were slowly stripped away. The furs rustled as he shifted closer, and then his palms were on my lower back, firm and warm, pushing tension away in slow strokes.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

"That's it," Caleb murmured. "Just breathe. You do that for your patients someday, and you'll already be halfway to keeping them alive."

His hands worked their way down, thumbs tracing along the backs of my hips and into the muscles of my ass, easing the soreness there with patient care rather than hunger. The touch was intimate, yes... but it felt just as much like being looked after as it did like being wanted. And somehow, that made it even harder to think.

"So I calm them down?" I asked, trying not to think of how close he was to my hole. "Then what? I don't really know much about sutures or anything like that."

"That sort of thing takes practice." Caleb admitted, his hands drifting down between my thighs. "You'll get the hang of it. Once you read those books, you'll know the next steps. They'll pop out at ya, one after the other." His fingertips grazed my balls and sent a shiver up my spine. Caleb moved further down my thighs, as if teasing me. I could practically feel his smile as he stared down at me.

His hands kept moving, his thumbs pressing deeper into my skin, tracing long lines along sore muscle, then circling where the tension had settled hardest. The touch was firm enough to make me gasp, but careful, like he was listening to my body more than to my groans of pleasure and pain.

I tried to say something again. What, I wasn't even sure. Maybe to joke. Maybe to ask another question about his doctor philosophy. But all that came out was a broken phrase. "Caleb... I,"

"Shush." His voice cut in low and calm. Not angry. More certain, if anything. "Don't start thinking again. You're doing that enough already." His hands tightened briefly, then smoothed out. "Just enjoy it."

I tried to obey, letting my face sink into the folded furs as he worked lower, thumbs digging along the long stretch of muscle down the back of my legs. Every pass sent a warm, loosening ache through me, the kind that felt like something inside was finally giving up its grip.

"See?" he murmured, more to himself than to me. "Massages aren't the only way to calm a man down, but they work. Though, I've heard laudanum is fine in a pinch." There was a soft chuckle following his joke, but I heard the message clear enough. If you can't calm them down with touch, use drugs.

His palms reached the bend behind my knees, easing the tightness there with slow, patient strokes before sliding farther down. When his hands closed around my calves, I couldn't help the soft sound that slipped out of me. They were still sore from everything that had happened since I arrived here, and his touch found every knot like he'd mapped them out already.

Caleb's thumbs pressed in along the sides of my calves, then dragged upward in long, grounding motions, over and over, until the muscles began to submit under him. The rest of his arm followed, warm and solid, anchoring me in place.

I lifted my head a little, trying again. "Why do you think the Washoe tribe will have any information on Doctor Mallory?"