An Outlaw's Weakness*Fifth in Crane Gang series*

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hours passed as Xavier sat against the wall. His eyes were swollen, his throat was raw, and he felt bone deep exhaustion. He had no idea what was going on in that shack. He could smell smoke and burning herbs as a low chanting drifted outside.

Dawn was beginning to glow on the horizon. Xavier closed his burning eyes and laid his head against the wall behind him. He wasn't even aware of falling asleep until a clearing throat brought him awake.

Instantly, Xavier leapt to his feet. "Is he okay?" he demanded of Granny who stood in front of him.

The woman looked tired as she folded her hands in front of her. "I have done what I can. You can see him now."

Xavier frowned. That wasn't an answer. She'd done what she could? Was Preston alive? Was he dead? Was he breathing better? He wanted to ask for answers to those questions but he was afraid of what those answers would be.

On trembling legs, Xavier headed back around the house and toward that crooked front door. He couldn't swallow around the lump in his throat as his shaking hand pushed that slab of wood open.

The lamp in the corner caused shadows to stretch across the tiny shack. The first thing Xavier was aware of was silence. Preston wasn't struggling for breath any longer—but was he breathing at all? Xavier's footsteps seemed to echo as he dodged the hanging herbs and approached that tiny bed.

Taking several deep breaths to steady himself, Xavier let his gaze drop to Preston's bare chest—and the steady rise and fall of it. Preston was alive. Relief flooded through Xavier like the blood in his veins. He wasn't going to lose his man just yet.

His eyes slid up Preston's body to his take in his face and Xavier swallowed hard. The man was still unnaturally pale, his lips colorless, and dark circles surrounded his eyes. He lay on that bed completely motionless other than his breaths.

Xavier dropped down to one knee and took Preston's smaller hand in his larger, calloused one. He leaned in and laid a gentle kiss to Preston's dry lips. "You just rest a while."

Shoving himself to his feet, Xavier made his way back out the door and away from the overwhelming scent of herbs. He found Granny out spreading feed for her chickens. She glanced at him as he approached and Xavier cleared his throat, though his voice was still hoarse when he spoke. "Thank you for saving him."

Granny merely went back to her current task, her long dark hair falling around her. "That's what I do. I am a healer."

Xavier's boots shifted in the dirt as his gut twisted with a breath stealing combination of hope and dread. He squared her shoulders. "Is he going to be okay? He was told before that his lungs would keep getting weaker and he was.. dying. Is he still....." Xavier shoved his hands into his pockets. "Is he still dying?"

Again, Granny paused. She glanced up at the fading stars in the brightening sky. "We are all dying. From the day we are born we are heading toward that inevitable end."

Xavier tensed and his arm twitched with the urge to reach out and shake the woman. "Is the damn man still dying from his sickness?"

Granny sighed as she propped her feed bucket on her narrow hip. "Tell me more about his sickness."

Xavier guessed that meant the woman hadn't healed it. He cracked his neck. "I don't know much. I know that he was born with it. It makes his lungs close up and he can't draw decent breath. He mentioned that at one point a few years ago they thought the sickness was getting better but then it came back worse than it had been before. A lung doctor told him he was dying and nothing could be done about it." Xavier took a deep breath after saying those words. "And his medicine wouldn't help him anymore."