Brian Coltrane

Which ex-plains Garrett's limited appeal, ah reckon.... *grinning*

*suppressing a drug-induced giggle* Oh, ah doubt that. Garrett's "way with women" involves rentin' 'em by the hour.

*snorts at Doc's efforts to appease Garrett's ego...watching her attend to him*

*overhearing this, and giddy enough on the morphine to chime in* Yer right. Nothin' else you got will impress the girls. KHEEheheheheh....

Mmmm. Ah'll be riiiiiiiight heah. *blissfully free of pain, and worry, for the moment*

Khee...the company, o' course, though the painkiller is fun. *watches, bemused, as the bandage wraps around body* Heh! This reminds me of the time we were horsin' around down heah, and I found the cabinet of bandage wraps, and the next thang ah know.... *uninhibited as a norm, and moreso with the medication, cheerfully launches into a memory, until somebody clears their throat to politely interrupt. Whether it was Lukas or Alex, there's no telling* ...well, anyhow, it was fun.

*smiles widely at Doc's innuendo....not even mustering an "ow" as she bandages up the ribs...actually giggling a little, the painkiller evidently agreeing with the Coltrane constitution* Kheeheheheh...heh! Mmm. 'Wanna pree-scription for this stuff....

*looks up into Doc's eyes, grimacing a little as the needle pierces flesh, but holding still* Rgh... ...Ah try to behave, Doc. Thangs just don't always go accordin' to plan.... *as the painkiller begins to seep in rather quickly, blinks once and then relaxes with a loose grin* Mmm. Thas' much better....

Gentle, would be an asprin and a cup of water. But g'wan, then. Git it over with....

*heartbeat pounds faster* Ya know....the nicer you are about it...the more yer scarin' me. Where's this thang gittn' dee-livered', anyhow?

*hears Doc's voice, soft and quiet and soothing....* *and something in own criminal instinct takes that as a warning. One brown eye creaks open suspiciously, getting a drowsy bead on something thin, shiny, and sharp in Doc's hand. Most of all, sharp. Pointy.* Oh no. Doc, ah hate shots.... *with one wrist handcuffed to the medical table, and pain disallowing any sitting up, there's nowhere to go*

*dozing, but stirring a little at the touch to the ribs, groaning in complaint...trying not to wake up for anything else that hurts*

We keep each other in stiches, yeah. *clasps Alex's hand, smiling, eyes shutting....fatigue stealing in, the pain enough to wear anybody out. Intends to say something else, but just like that, conciousness slips back under. The grasp of Alex's hand weakens, then slackens altogether.*

*nods to both Dukes, turning face towards Alex* I definately owe him one, don't I. *goes to offer a handshake to Alex, but the handcuffed wrist is caught up short and gives a metallic rattle*

Sounded like he's got a clean-through wound, no lead stuck in 'em. He lost a lotta blood tho'. Ah'm just thinkin' he's gonna wake up with a whole lotta hatred for all thangs Coltrane, and we're probably on the verge of a helluva fued.

*answering Alex* I know, ah'm sorry. Alex, this thang didn't go accordin' to plan at all, and ah'm wishin' we'd just stayed in jail. The wages of sin make a pretty lousy paycheck. *turns head to meet Lukas's grin* You'll nevah be rid of a Coltrane that easy. *chuckles, wincing a little at the pain, and face quickly becomes serious* I don't know what you all heard, but you know me well enuff to know ah'd nevah shoot an unarmed man in cold blood. I don't know what Garrett's gonna think, though.

Hey now! What --- *protests as MaryAnne neatly clasps a handcuff around one wrist and attaches the other loop to the rail of the medical table. Thus shackled, watches MaryAnne give a behave-yerself look , which is not without affection, as she leaves the clinic to check on county business. * Guess ah'm not goin' anywhere, Alex. You handy with a bedpan?

But what Chet did, was no accident. *the Atlantan drawl is still weak, but gaining a rougher edge with this pronouncement*

*closes eyes briefly in relief that Garrett is alive. Then looks to MaryAnne as she speaks, murmuring agreement* Ah nevah meant to shoot him. Ah swear. Mah only thought...was to flush Chet outta hidin'. *pauses* Worked like a voodoo charm, too. Worked too damn well.

*gives MaryAnne a chance to sort herself out, smiling at her 'thick head' remark. Looks from her to Alex, nodding, and then abruptly thinks of something, own expression falling* ....What about Garrett? I remember mah gun went off....when I got hit. Is he....

*feels moisture sting own eyes, at this, and clutches MaryAnne's hand in return* ...Ah'm sorry, cousin.... *ragged drawl full of remorse* ...ah'm sorry. Don't fuss now, ah'm fine... *tries to sit up, but feels pain rake sharply through body. Lays self back down, carefully, and offers a weak smile* ...awright, ah'm not fine, but it hurts too damn much to die.

*the layers of conciousness are thick with pain...and so it was with good reason that one Coltrane remained safely beneath awareness. Yet the urgency and grief in MaryAnne's voice is audible, as is the emotion from Alex. So long is there is life in this body, however battered, there is will.....* *...and with a slogging, determined effort, the mind breaches the surface, awareness bringing searing, sharp pain along with it. Coughs once, expression tightening with pain, left hand weakly reaching up to pull off the oxygen mask. Gasps an unsteady breath without it, eyes flickering open....and as focus returns to vision, sees the worried faces staring back. At the tears in MaryAnne's eyes and the striken look in Alex's face, can only murmur an effort at reassurance* ....hush, now.....it can't be all that bad......

*the touch to the hand doesn't bring any outward reaction...the inert Coltrane showing no signs of life, save for the shallow, slow breathing that is almost undectectable. The absolute stillness is a sharp contrast to the spirit of the person lying here....and one can only wonder, what remains of him.*

*there's no response from the wounded Coltrane...no movement. The tuft of brown hair that hangs over the forehead shows evidence of dried blood, though the face has been cleaned. Early signs of bruising are evident on the face as well. Clearly, there was a price paid for taking the chance at freedom....and the exact cost still isn't known. Was it pride, that caused this conflict? Could a title, a bragging right, mean so much? * *And was such a thing worth dying for? Killing for?* *would MaryAnne ever get an answer? Or was there more to the injuries than meets the eye....*

The Deputy has spoken! And havin' considered the laws of probability involved here, and my own "no reset button, play at your own risk" code... I think we'll carry on right where we left off. I'm gonna suggest that Alex is the next post, to set things back into motion. ( Note, we're not gonna "cue" specific people in this thang, because then if somebody can't be online at that time, it can hold things up. ) Alex, if you'd do the honors.... Chet, I'd suggest posting after him to show your arrival, and we'll fall into sync from there.