XXI

Caff passed out, or fell asleep, at some point. Probably it was a mix of both, a combination of injuries and exhaustion. When he closed his eyes, he was lying in the bed of Barney Crabtree's wagon as it bumped and grumbled along. Upon opening them again, he found himself laid out on a table in a familiar room. He was able to creak open his eyes only the barest amount. It was enough to see the other table, sheet of metal nailed into its wooden top. Easier to clean that way. On the wall in the other direction would be a little free-standing sink, cabinets full of bandages and all above it. This was the back room of Barney's office. He could hear people around him, speaking quietly to each other. “...passed out on the way,” a woman's voice was saying. It was a tense voice, full to the brim with worry and concern. “There must be something else wrong!”

That was Claudia. She'd had a hell of a time these last few days. A lot of folk had. His sister had been given an awful lot to feel about since Ruby's corpse was found. An awful lot. Even someone with the fiercest of wills and the deepest of fortitudes could be overwhelmed. He did not at all like the idea that it would be him that whelmed her over.

Barney, from somewhere by his legs, answered her. He said, “Exhaustion is the most likely culprit. Recent...events...have placed quite the strain on – well, quite a few of us. With rest, he'll most likely make a full recovery.”

There was a disbelieving snort following that proclamation. “That ain't happenin',” A different woman's voice opined. Rough with lack of sleep and full of doubt. The inimitable Jennie Leeds. She went on to grumble, “Even if nothin' else were to happen, and it all goes smooth from here on, he ain't gonna put his feet up and let me do all the work.”

Barney hummed quietly. Caff watched him go to his cabinets and rearrange a few of the doctoral odds-and-ends within. Silence fell for a time. Thing about Jennie was that she was right. He imagined himself at his desk, back in the Jail. His feet propped up and a blanket in his lap. A steaming cup of coffee in hand. It sounded nice. Probably even would be, too, after everything. That would only last so long. He didn't consider himself someone who always needed a task, but there was only so much idleness a mind and body could take before boredom settled in. Even if that somehow failed to happen, he would still have to watch Jennie run herself ragged trying to do both of their jobs. That just would not do. Not one bit.

By now he'd had enough of lying there having people talk around him and made to sit up. He learned then that he'd been out for just long enough for pain to fade to a forgettable point. When he moved, he brought it all roaring back. His whole body was one, solid hurt. A low groan pressed against his thin, dried-out lips. The noise drew everyone's attention. Thence commenced the fussing. Any other time and it might have stung his pride, but now was not that time. He sagged into the combined hold of Barney and Claudia, seeing Jennie hover just out of range. Soot scrawled like warpaint across the bridge of her nose. She was a tense line of a woman.

“You should lay back, Addison,” Barney was saying. Caff hadn't made it that far up anyway. He gave up with a sigh, effort's tension leaving him. It looked like his doing so relieved some of the worry everyone around him was carrying. Barney's hands uncurled, and Claudia's brow unfurrowed, and Jennie's folded arms loosened a little. “That's a good man,” Barney affirmed with a nod. He then asked, “How's your throat? Can you speak?”

As a matter of fact, his throat felt awful. Dry, cracked, and dry some more. He managed to work up enough spit to answer. “Jus' about,” he croaked. His voice was a thin, scratchy thing that washed relief over the other three in a visible way. A small, brief smile here, a poorly-hidden sigh there, and a rolled set of eyes. He asked, “Water?”

He felt Claudia take his hand in hers. The good one. The hand with the hole in it had been swathed in bandages. It made no more noise than the rest of his injuries, for which he was grateful. Barney measured him with a doctor's eyes. “If you think you can stomach it,” he warned. Caff did. Oh, he truly did. Barney read as much in Caff's eager face and, with a gentle pat on his shoulder, went to fetch some.

Quiet fell in the wake of Barney's departure. It was like neither Claudia nor Jennie wanted to break it. They wouldn't say a word, nor look at each other. They'd barely look at him. “Everythin'–” his croak startled them. Jennie's hand dropped to her pistol, Claudia's to her throat. He cleared his own and tried again. “Everythin' all right?”

“Just about,” Jennie answered quietly. It was as much of a lie as when he said it. “Leland reckons he got the buckets going in time to keep the fire contained.” That was a piece of mercy. He would not have liked to burn half the town down to save his own skin. What was left of it. “I can't – why'd you do it? Why'd you set the fire?”

He had to find a way to answer in as few words as possible. Each one dragged from his throat felt like razors opening lines in his skin. There had been enough of that lately. He settled on, “Remember Ruby?”

She would. It hadn't been so long, and was rather hard to forget besides. Understanding sparked in her eyes and in the quiet “Oh,” that left her mouth. She licked her lips and asked, “Did Talmadge send it? Was it – like her?”

“Maybe,” he answered. Barney bustled back in with a brimming canteen of the most blessed water to ever be drawn from a pump. With his and Claudia's help he was able to drink cool, soothing sips until it was empty. The water rushed down his throat, into his gut, and spread out into his body. He could feel its gentle touch on the heated remains of ash that coated his insides. It was glorious. “Thank you,” he said. “both of you.” There was some strength to his voice now. Some of the burrs were sanded smooth by the drink. He sighed again. It wasn't good that he felt, but something approaching better.

Barney gave him a nod and Claudia brushed matted, filthy hair away from his brow. He made an irritable noise and flinched away from it, drawing a brief grin from his sister. He would not have her mothering him and she knew that. It seemed she had recovered enough of her center to be obnoxious, which was nice. “Been through the ringer, haven't you?” she asked. He grunted and closed his eyes for a moment. They still burned from the ash.

It was Barney who answered, saying, “He truly has,” and there was something in his tone to give Caff pause. “You've racked up quite the toll on your body there, Addison.”

Jennie uncoiled to protest, “Ain't like he done it on purpose, Doc!”

“No, of course not,” Barney defused with upraised palms. She subsided, looking down at her boots. There was something going on with her. Maybe Talmadge had sent one of them corpse-things after her, too. If that was so, she had done much better than Caff in dealing with it. She didn't look injured, apart from that split lip Rupert had given her, but that didn't mean she wasn't rattled. “I meant only that – It doesn't matter. The point, Addison, is that you've sustained numerous injuries over the past two days.” Caff grunted. He was well aware of each one. “Too numerous. I'm afraid that...well...”

Barney did not look at all eager to deliver this piece of bad news, which it of course was. Hell, Caff had a pretty good idea what the news was. “Jus' tell me,” he ordered, weary of waiting. Barney nodded, looked down, and laced his fingers together.

“Bed rest, four weeks at the absolute minimum. Light activity for the next two months at least. Your leg should recover. At worst, you'll have a slight limp in colder temperatures. Your hand, however...you may never regain the functionality it once had.” The back room had gone quiet and still. “I am sorry, Addison.”

Caff grunted. He had figured as much. Didn't make it any easier to hear.

- - -

It was Jennie who broke that silence, that stillness, and she did so with a sad, humorless little laugh. Wry and dry, she mused, “Well, ain't that fuckin' perfect.” He had no answer to that. Probably there wasn't one. Even though he had expected it, had known it was coming, it still felt like nothing else to actually hear. The difference, he suspected, between having a suspicion and having someone confirm it.

“You sure?” He asked. He had to. Barney was a smart man and knew his trade like no other, but Caff had to ask.

Barney nodded. “Yes,” he answered. His voice was quiet, almost gentle, and it still hit like a sledgehammer. Like the stabbing limb from that corpse-thing. Caff grunted. Words were failing him, it seemed.

Not Claudia though. She looked between him and Jennie in clear confusion. “Isn't that good news?”

“Yeah,” Jennie agreed. “It truly is.”

Claudia huffed and replied, “It doesn't look that way! You're both acting as if – I don't know, like he's about to die!”

“Well,” He said, “I'm not. It's just that...” He trailed off. Tried to find a way to put it.

Jennie stepped in, saying, “We were gonna ride up to the Talmadge ranch. Ain't exactly keen on going alone, so...” she shrugged. The very idea of her going up there alone to face whatever horror might await her was one he did not at all care for. Something sparked in him, a desperation to find any alternative to that. Wracking his brain came up with nothing. He didn't care for that, either.

Her not wanting to go alone was fine. Hell, her not wanting to go at all was fine. If he'd been more capable, more prepared, he could've fought that thing off with less injury to himself. It could have been the two of them that rode out, and this whole problem could have been avoided. In that way, it was his fault. Mostly, it was Talmadge's. To make matters worse, there was something else to recognize: unless he could figure something out, she might have to go alone. The whole office of the Sheriff of Calavera was two people. It had been his choice not to make a deputy of anyone else earlier. That was choice's consequence was making itself known now. In this, there was no one to blame but himself.

“Could wait,” he supposed. It hurt less to talk now. Each word came easier than the one before, borne on the smooth, cool road of hydration. “Could lay around however long it takes to heal, then head up.” He didn't bother to hide his dislike for the idea.

Jennie nodded and boosted herself up to sit on the table she'd been leaning on. “Could do,” she agreed, “Except we can't.”

“Why not?” Claudia asked. Her confusion had given way to a pensive expression. The kind she got when she putting a puzzle together. Before he or anyone else could answer, she did so. In a mix of dawning understanding and horror, she said, “It's Mr. Talmadge, isn't it? He's the one who killed poor Ruby and sent that thing after Addison.”

It had taken him the better part of three days and practically being handed the answer to figure it all out. His sister had done it in minutes, in the early hours, after nearly her brother to his own foolishness. Sometimes he wondered if he was just an idiot or if everyone around him was a genius. “Pretty much,” he answered. “so...yeah, we can't wait.”

Claudia's brows drew down. “But you destroyed his...creation,” she pointed out, “surely there's no more danger, or at least much less of it.”

“Maybe so,” he agreed. “I am not interesting in betting my deputy's life on it, though.”

“Kind of you,” Jennie said with a wry grin. He snorted. “His deputy isn't all that interested in it, either.”

Which, again, was good to hear. It didn't help solve the problem before them, but it was good to hear. He laid on the table and counted his injuries from the pain they caused while the much more capable women in his life quietly volleyed possibilities back and forth. Barney, who had until this point been content in quietness, came to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I really am sorry, Addison.” he said. “It is just that–”

“No,” Caff interrupted, waving his bandaged hand. It only twinged horribly, which he took as a sign of healing. “You're doing your job, looking out for us fools. I'm not about to hold that against you.”

“You almost died tonight,” Barney told him quietly. “Between your exhausted state, the shock and blood loss...it was close. Too close to see in a friend.” Caff hummed. He didn't know what to say to that. He couldn't just say that dying didn't frighten him anymore, that part of him was in fact looking forward to it. Maybe one day. Barney said nothing else for a while, then squeezed his shoulder and said, “Rest. I mean it.”

Caff nodded. For Barney's sake, he would rest. Just like he would live for the sake of Claudia. Jennie too, maybe. He turned his thoughts back to the other issue at hand. Once, he had not wanted to deputize anyone else because he didn't need anyone else. Himself and Jennie had been enough. Then, he had not wanted to because he did not know who to trust. From there it had become not knowing who had their mind to their own. Which led to here. There had to be someone. Couldn't be anyone, but someone had to be good enough.

Claudia, maybe. She had the mind for it. Better than his. She didn't lack for grit either. Putting herself in front of a frightened, angry, stupid mob would have shown him that had he not already known. She knew her way around a fight, most everyone in Calavera did, and was a fair hand with a pistol. In every way she was ideal, except one: she was all the family he had left. It was without a doubt selfish, but he did not want to risk her life unless he had no other choice.

Thing was, he didn't really know anyone else. No one suitable. He realized then how distant he was from a lot of the people in his town. It hadn't been purposeful. He didn't think so, at least. He was casual, even friendly, with a bunch of people, but the ones he truly knew could be counted on one hand.

He had a thought, then. There was someone else suitable. They had proven themselves strong, in body and mind. Brave, too, to fight their own nature for so long. “Son of a bitch,” he said aloud. It was stupid. It was so, so stupid. No way would they go for it. He lost nothing in trying, so that was what he would do. From missing person to murder suspect to deputy. Quite the journey. “I got an idea.”

Jennie and Claudia stopped their conference to turn to him. “What?” Jennie asked.

Caff grinned. There was no way he couldn't. “Think Elijah'd want a job?”