Setting: ATF Universe
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
Note: Music and Lyrics "I believe in Father Christmas" by Emerson lake and Palmer. I hadn't planned on a Christmas story , but heard this song on the radio last night at midnight, coming from work and thought of this story.
MERRY CHRISTMAS
Time stood still here and for that he was grateful. He eased off his bike and walked into the old, rundown cabin. A smile was born easily, as the ghosts of many visits past lurked in every corner. He squatted over an old wooden box and flipped the lid up. He smiled and fingered the tools inside. How many nights had he peeled away the hours, carving small animals in wood? It was simple place; small, efficient and sparse. He tossed his stuff on the bunk in the corner and went about setting up. An hour later, a faint sheen of perspiration clung to him, but the wood was stacked outside, the interior swept clean and the table and chair scrubbed. Provisions were next on his list. He washed his face at pump outside and zipped his jacket up. Donning his helmet, he headed for the old trading post. Halfway to the fifty-year old store, he pulled over.
Jogging to an overlook, with the valley below and the moutains glistening snow, he paused for a moment. This was his church; the sky was his roof and those glorious pine trees were his windows. Beyond the dense copse of trees, were the congregation, furried and feathered. He found a spot in the sunlight and raised his face warming it a bit. He prayed then, for the departed soul of the lost boy and to give Chris the strength he needed to survive whatever his path was to be. What of his own destiny? This pain that engulfed him and the concern it caused his friends. Riding solo, he never had to worry about people caring for him.
As his eyes again travelled along the expanse of God's Majesty, he saw a beautiful bird. It was just a few feet away, perched on a tree branch. A pure white dove, as pretty a sight as you'd ever see. It appeared out of nowhere, studied him for several minutes and the took off. While watching the glorious flight, he got his answer. A wave washed through him, taking away the pain and uncertainty. In it's place, a sense of peace and fulfillment. He knew where home was and celebrated by giving a soulfelt thank you.
The snow began to fall again and he continued to the trading post. A faint tinkle of a bell rang and Vin grinned, eyeing the timeworn floors and offerings inside the humble post. He wondered in Dakota was still around, the old guy had to be close to eighty. A hoarse voice called out from behind an old, weathered rust colored curtain that separated the area behind the modest antique cash register and the back.
"...be right with you..."
"...s'okay Dakota, take yer time..." Vin hollered back, wandering among the shelves lined with Native American pottery, dreamcatchers, wedding vases and fur-lined soft moccasins. He found a pair in Chris's size in black and dropped them on the counter. He padded to the side of the store where the food was stored. He selected just a few items and deposited them with the moccasins. He spotted a small lava carving of a wolf and took that too. It was only about three inches high, but it's proud stance reminded him of Chris and he pictured it on the leader's desk.
"Afternoon young fella."
"Hey, Dakota," Vin extended his hand, shaking the elderly mans. "Damn ya look great."
"I know you..." Dakota paused, squinting his dark eyes.
"It's been a few months since I been in..."
"The bounty hunter!" he announced. "Tanner!"
"Ya got a good memory. How ya been?"
"I'm still breathing. I get up every day and thank God when I see the sunset."
"Can't ask fer more than that. Ya got any coffee?"
"Only if you'll take a sandwich with it," the older man moved the curtain and Vin ducked under.
"Blue!" Vin exclaimed, dropping on his knees to greet the old mutt. The gray head rose and the nose sniffed the extended fist, then gave a lick in recognition. "How ya doin' boy?" He scrubbed his hand over the soft fur between the dog's ears and waited for the animal to resume his nap. He took a seat across from the old man, picking up half of the offered sandwich.
"What brings you up to my mountain?" He paused, looking at the young man's face. He'd known the bounty hunter for almost ten years and usually it was a problem that cause him to embrace this special place.
"I ain't huntin' no more," Vin swallowed the large bite and took a sip of coffee. "I got a job in Denver, workin' fer the ATF."
"You found more than a job," he concluded, sensing a peace than hadn't been there before. The restless spirit was gone.
"Yeah, a pack of brothers," The Texan smiled, taking another hearty bite. "There was a problem at a high school yesterday."
"Horrible, what a shame for the families of those poor students that were killed." He paused and bite into a pickle, studying the serious blue eyes across from him. "That was you? You were involved."
"I was the sniper."
"This is what troubles you? You saved many lives, I know it doesn't make up for the one you were forced to take..."
"No, it don't," Vin answered honestly, "and I worried about that fer awhile. But I got my answer a little while ago. Hey Dakota, you still got them odd pieces o'wood lyin' about?"
"Ah...you haven't lost your hobby for creating art?"
"Art?" Vin laughed, "them critters ain't hardly art! But I got somethin' I need t'make..."
"Help yourself," he waved his hand towards the window to a shed in the back, "You come back in the morning and varnish it..."
"Ya still make them kick -ass griddle cakes?"
"You be here at eight a.m. and you'll find out!"
"Thanks Dakota!" Vin swallowed the last of the coffee, grabbed the other half sandwich and trotted outside to the shed. His step was lighter and he had a mission to complete. His keen eye quickly found what he needed and he felt his heart lighten.
"J.D. get your feet off the bed!" Buck chastised the youth, who was sprawled in the empty chair next to Chris. The blond was sleeping and in considerable pain, so the visit was quiet.
"Leave 'im alone, Buck," Chris whispered, "That pitcher full?"
"Yeah, hold on Chris," J.D. jumped up and filled the patient's cup. He guided the cup to Chris's hand and watched carefully as it was drained.
"Thanks," He handed it back and rested his head against the pillows.
"Mr. Larabee?"
"Yes," Chris squinted at where the voice came from.
J.D. and Buck both turned to a see a small body, the upper half of which was covered by a large basket. Two legs covered in dark stockings and a navy skirt were visible.
"Here, Ma'am, let me get that for you," Buck moved over and took the large basket. "Wow, this is some basket!" He eyed the cookies, candy and gourmet coffee inside.
"She's a nun," J.D. hissed at Buck, who placed the basket in front of Chris.
"You got a good eye there, Kid," Buck teased, rolling his eyes.
"I didn't know Chris knew a nun," he continued, "Chris isn't the nun type..."
"J.D., you best quit while you're ahead..." Buck warned, kicking the black hightop sneaker. "Get up and offer her your seat!"
"Oh," J.D. gulped and stood, "Here, Sister, sit down."
"No thank you, Young man," she denied, eyeing the trio. "My your handsome..."
"Thank you," Buck grinned.
"Who said she was talking to you, Buck?" Chris quipped.
"Yeah," Dunne elbowed him.
"Actually, you've all been gifted with fine features, and we met let night, I believe. I'm Sister Michael Anne."
"Oh," Buck chuckled, shaking the nun's hand. "You're Vin's nun."
"Vin's nun?" the patient frowned.
"Yeah," J.D. answered the question on the leader's face, "You see, Vin went to church last night and then rescued this...the...Sister Michael," he corrected, "then he went back to the convent, where we found him later."
"Vin went to church?" Chris turned up a lip, "that explains the snow..."
"He's a very spiritual young man," she defended of her new friend. "His poor heart was so full of woe...and those eyes."
"Yeah," Chris turned his face away, "I know about them. How was he?"
"Well, he was quite upset this morning. I met him again before mass. He'd just learned of your misfortune." She took his hand in both of hers and saw the pain in his face. Despite his serious injury, she doubted the anguish there was for him. "I'm confident his faith will show him the right path. I think you know that too..."
"I hope you're right, Sister," Chris dropped his voice and his hand reached for the basket. "You didn't have to come all the way over here. That was above and beyond..."
"No, I needed to meet you. Vin thinks so much of you...I can now see why. Here, let me help." She unwrapped the plastic, revealing a large assortment of goodies. "We get so much food and gifts from the parishoners and some of the local businesses, that we can possibly eat them all."
"Thank you," he answered, "for everything."
She smiled then, seeing very clearly the same look of longing in his eyes, that she'd seen reflected in Vin Tanner's. She squeezed his hand, "I'll pray for you, Mr. Larabee, Good Luck to you..."
"Thanks again, and it's Chris."
"Would you like a blessing? Father Carson is just down the hall." she noted of the priest's visit to the sick.
"I've already been blessed," he whispered, retracting his hand. "...yes, thanks Sister."
"Okay, I'll send Father down," She saw the youngest of the group eyeing the food. "The chocolate chips are especially good," she winked and got a grin. "Good day..."
"Goodbye, Sister, thanks for coming over." Buck watched her leave. "That little nun sure made an strong impression on Vin. He talked about her all the way home." He smiled, "I bet his 'Ma'am's' and blushes had all them nuns eatin' out of his hand."
Dinner was done and the fire gave the cabin an earthly glow. He sat crosslegged in front of the fireplace. The golden light played off his features as he worked. The bandages his hand and the burn under it, made for slow going. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed carving. Finally it was done. He winced and flexed his sore hand, gazing at the item. Satisified, he cleaned up his mess and stretched his back. A noisy yawn accompanied him to the window. The murky sky was dark and brooding, save for the brilliant silver moon. The intense light made him think of the face of the infant again. He fingered the small cross he'd made from a piece of leftover wood.
"Let him find peace too..." he prayed of his friend, "...please..." he whispered, eyeing that full moon again.
I wish you a hopeful Christmas
I wish you a brave New Year
All anguish pain and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear
Chris yawned and rolled over on his side, grimacing as the pain roused with him. His soft grunt brought a heavy footfall. He felt the bed being elevated and the sound of the icy pitcher being tilted. He peeled an eye open and saw a blurry mustached-face hovering near. He'd been there late last night when he fell asleep. He doubted if the large man even rested himself, yet here he was again.
"Jesus, Buck, did you get evicted?" he grumbled half-asleep, then his face froze and he jerked his body upright in the bed, despite he wave of pain. "Buck!"
Buck stood frozen for a few seconds, the plastic mug wavering in his hand. He moved sideways and the muddled green eyes moved with him. There was no doubt about it-Chris Larabee had regained his sight.
"Damn!" he whooped, gripping the blue-cotton shoulders hard.
"Don't!" Chris jerked, wincing as Buck's loud war call slammed into his throbbing skull. He breathed heavily for a few minutes and then peeled his eyes open again. Buck was still a little blurry, but he was there. "You look like shit Buck..."
"You wish you looked this good, you dog you...I can't believe it...I'm gonna go tell the nurse!" Buck beamed, slapping the bedrails again."Damn!..."
Breakfast settled contentedly in his stomach, his precious gifts were stowed away and the sun kissed his face as he rode home. He spent the morning with Dakota, waiting for the varnish to dry. The old man needed some odd jobs done and Vin took care of that easily. Before long, the sun had slipped into the western sky and it was time to hit the road. Now as Denver's cityscape appeared, he felt his heart clenching. Twice he'd tried calling Chris's room from payphones, but there was no answer. He didn't know what to make of that. He sighed and pulled off at the correct exit, taking two turns, he found himself in front of the church. He eased off his bike, left the helmet and made his way to the door. Two short raps brought a stern looking, large nun, with a slight mustache.
"Afternoon, Ma'am...I was wonderin' if Sister...uh...Sister..." Vin blanched, what was her name? "Uh...she's a bitty, little thing about this high," he indicated, "spunky eyes and real fiesty like..."
"Please wait," she offered, moving aside to let him into the foyer. She hid her smile, until she entered the kitchen. "One of us has a visitor in the hall."
"Who?" Sister Eileen, the stout cook inquired, stirring a pot of soup.
"Well, if I'm not mistaken, I believe the young man is looking for Sister Michael." she smiled, "he inquired on a 'bitty, little thing with spunky eyes, real fiesty like..." She paused," he has long hair, handsome, a nice smile."
"Vin," the tiny nun said, leaving her carrots and making her way to the foyer. She greeted him warmly, hugging him and then standing back, studying his face. "You're better...yes...you're much better."
"That I am," he answered, "Them gifts ya talked about the other night...the ones ya said He gave me. I felt 'em up there...real strong. There's a spot on the mountain, it's just beautiful. I go there alot t'think on things. I was prayin' fer the boy and Chris...and wonderin' about my own road. Then I looked up an there was a dove, right in front o'me. It was beautiful...That's when I got my answer. "
"You looked inside and found what you needed," she praised.
"So I got t'thinkin', about it bein' Jesus's birthday. It ain't nothin' compared t'what He give me...but I made him somethin'. I was wonderin', if it'd be okay to put it near the manger...so's he can see it." He took it from beneath his jacket and carefully unwrapped it.
"You made that?" She exclaimed, gently examining it and appreciated the time, labor and love that went into the fine piece. "It's beautiful, Vin. I know just the place for it..."
"I need t'make a phone call first, if that's okay...I can't get ahold o'Chris and I'm worried..."
"You know where it is," she motioned to the study, "I'll get my coat. Can I hold onto this?" she cradled the pretty piece and saw him nod.
Vin made his way to the phone and quickly dialed the number again. After three rings, a groggy voice answered.
"Hel..lo.." Chris coughed and sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Where the Hell have ya been?" Vin hissed, then blushed slightly and turned the Blessed Mother statue that was looking at him the other way. "I couldn't get a hold o'ya...I thought..."
"Hi, Chris, How are you feeling?" the blond replied sarcastically, "Fine, Vin, thanks for asking."
"Don't be a wiseass..."
"I was having more tests and a bath." He heard the silence on the other end, the only sound being labored breathing, which was rapid at first, then settled down. He smiled then, feeling the relief oozing through the phone.
"Yer name Larabee?" the younger man recovered, sitting on the edge of the desk.
"Depends on whose asking," Chris grinned, enjoying the game.
"Heard tell ya was lookin' fer a sharpshooter."
"That right?" the smile broadened and the flickering flame inside sprung to life.
"Turns out, I'm fer hire, fer the right price." The Texan added cockily, with a sly grin.
"I got a guy, he's pretty good." Larabee felt giddy now and the smile hit his eyes.
"Reckon that's possible," Vin grinned evilly, "but he ain't no Tanner. I can knock the sweat off a gnat's balls at a thousand feet."
Chris covered the mouthpiece of the phone and laughed, took several steadying breaths to compose himself, then pulled the phone back. "Impressive," he choked, "so can my guy."
"While the gnat's takin' a piss?" Vin tossed back, then grinned like a fool, when he heard the explosive laughter from the other end of the phone.
"Consider yourself hired," the blond recovered, wiping the tears of mirth from his face. "So is everything copacetic?"
"Huh?" Vin frowned, then rested a hand on his abdomen, which had been a churning, running disaster when they'd parted. "Oh...no...I don't care fer that stuff. I took Imodium, Nate said..." he heard more laughter and paused. "I say somethin' funny?"
"You slay me, Cowboy," Chris managed, his sides aching from the kind of medicine that money couldn't buy.
"So how are ya? Ya get yer walkin' papers? I'm off all week, I figure I plant m'self at the ranch and keep an eye out..." Vin flinched and bit off his thought. "I didn't mean it like that..."
"Quit apologizing, and I'm going home in the morning. Thanks for inviting yourself, saved me the trouble." Chris swallowed some water, "Where you at? You in the city?"
"Yeah, just got here, I had one stop t'make."
"You headed t'Josiah's for supper? He's havin' the team over, then they're comin' over here."
"I guess I'll swing by..."
"Stay away from the chili and don't drink anything Buck gives you, not matter what he says."
"'preciate the advice," Vin quipped.
"Hey Vin?" Chris said seriously. "Welcome home."
"Thanks, guess I'll be seein' ya later."
Chris skimmed the blue letter that he'd read twice already. The first two paragraphs, which were personal and affected him deeply. He concentrated on the short poem at the end. The words, Vin's words, poured out on the lowest night of his life, truly touched him.
"I rode alone on a road long and cold.
Until the day when you touched my soul.
Through the power of your unwavering faith I was redeemed.
That precious gift, I carry within,
instilled with one glance of creedence in eyes full of fire.
You renewed my hope and nourished my empty heart.
Now twin spirits soar, where one once dreamed reaching above.
I thank you, brother, for the gift of the dove."
Vin was stunned for a moment, his body tingling. Then the realization of Chris's faltering voice hit him hard. He stood up, eyes like saucers and mouth like the desert. "Ya...r..r..read...it?" he croaked, grasping the hope.
"Every sweet word..." Chris replied, hearing Vin gasping and struggling to control himself. "Of course, some supervisors get a nice Hallmark card with a generous gift certificate inside. Me? I get a 'made in the USA of 100% recycled paper'. He paused and eyed the song sheet, "Did you steal this from the church?"
"No!" Vin chirped, "well...not really..."
"Did you notice the song?" Chris studied the words on the choral sheet.
"Yeah," Vin said huskily. "O Come All Ye Faithful...always like that song..."
"Me too..." Chris claimed, "but I like my Tanner better..."
"Nice try, Larabee," Vin swallowed hard, "but ya can't have the glasses back,"
"Fuck you, Tanner," he laughed and then eyed his blue treasure again. "See you later?"
"Ya sure will!" Vin promised, hanging the phone up. He sat down on a chair nearby and contemplated the news. He was still lost in space, when a hand tapped his shoulder.
"Are you alright?" Sister Michael asked, "All the color left your face."
"He...can...see..." Vin relied, taking a steadying breath. "Chris...I talked t'him..."
"The Lord heard you!" She gripped his hand. "I'm so glad, Vin."
They made their way to the church and found themselves in from of the Nativity. Vin carefully made his way among the figures and reached high, hanging the wood crafted item above the manger door.
"Well?" he turned and saw the tears in her eyes. "I reckon ya like it?"
"I reckon I do!" she boasted, motioning for him to join her. They sat in the first pew for a moment, studying the piece, the gift of the dove. It hung proudly, it's wings expanded and it's chest full. In it's beak was a tiny spring of a branch...an offering of peace.
"I gotta get goin'' Vin broke the quiet moment and stood up. He found two small hands on either side of his face. The dark eyes brimmed with tears and the smile she wore was one he'd not soon forget.
"God Bless You, Vin Tanner," she whispered and then smiled at the flush.
"He already has, Sister."
He paused outside the door to Josiah's and chuckled, hearing Buck chastising J.D.
"Damn Kid, back up a little," Buck warned.
"How far?" J.D. asked.
"How about Cleveland?" Nathan suggested, getting a rousing laugh from the group.
Vin took the smile away and tapped on the door.
"Hey Vin's back!" J.D. boomed, yanking the buckskinned body in the door.
"Damn, we got us a genuine movie star!" Buck winked, eyeing the prize Larabee glasses.
"Get by the fire, you look half froze!" Nate ordered, "I bet you haven't eaten all day..."
"I have just the remedy," Ezra moved past him, pausing to pat his shoulder, "A mocha-chino with caramel...and whipped cream." He winked.
Vin didn't move a muscle, letting his stoic face warm up a little. Chris was right, he was home. This is the place he belonged.
The rest of the group froze, eyeing the silent spectator. He mouth a grim line, his shoulder's sagging a bit. The glasses covered up the prize eyes, which they all could read so well. What choice had he made? The journey wasn't an easy one and they all shifted uncomfortably, afraid of what his answer may be. Josiah moved first, taking his large body in front of Vin and resting a hand on each shoulder.
"Are you okay, Son?"
"No." Vin said quietly, watching the faces of the other's grow ashen. He heard Buck's nearly silent curse and saw the pain in the dark blue eyes. J.D.'s hazel eyes went wide and Nate dropped his face. Ezra looked away, not wanting him to see the disappointment. Vin bit back a smile and turned his face to Sanchez. "Preacher!" he commanded with a swaggering bellow. "Ya best get them pots t'rattlin', 'cause I could eat a bear!" Noise exploded and he was surrounded. Somebody took his coat, several hands patted his back. Buck gave him a bearhug, which he didn't even try to fight at first. "Cut that out," he snarled as Wilmington's hand ruffled his head. "Ya got an unnatural attraction t'my hair."
"Shut up and sit down!" Buck ordered, "you damn near scared ten years off me."
Vin grinned and moved along the long table, until he found a spot next to Nathan. He dropped something onto the other's man plate and quietly picked up his napkin.
"You wanna pass the salt, Hollywood?" Buck teased of the glasses that remained on Tanner's face.
"Jealous?" Vin grinned, passing the salt and something else.
"What's this?" Nate picked up the small wooden animal and examined it. "Racoon?"
"Nope." Vin took a roll and buttered it, before stuffing half in his mouth.
"It ain't a fox..." he examined the small dark carving. He saw the shaggy head nod negatively again. "Hmmm..."
"...s'little black ass kicker..." Vin nodded proudly, raising an eyebrow. Nate's face split into a huge grin and the deep laugh followed. He elbowed Vin and sat the little creature next to his plate.
"Damn, he's got big feet," Josiah said with a wink, which only made the group laugh harder.
"Yeah, you know what that means..." J.D. goaded, picking up the small animal Vin carved for Wilmington. "Hey Buck, this guy's got tiny little feet..."
"Gimme that!" Buck grabbed the creature and glowered at the Texan. "I bet you thought that was funny? You got a warped sense of humor, Vin."
"It's hilarious," Vin shot back, "I heard about yer small feet and what ya can't do with 'em..." This comment drew a loud chorus of snickering and a few guffaws.
"From who?" The rogue demanded, glaring at the smug sniper.
"Well," Vin eye the clock, "we got a hour 'afore we need t'leave. I reckon I could recall most of their names..." He scrambled as the large body approached, but not fast enough. "Cut that out!" He choked, as the older man grabbed him in a head lock and hauled him back to the table. "Ya got no sense of humor...must be them bitty, little feet..."
Buck left the laughter out then, depositing the gasping tracker in his place and thwacking his head once for good measure. The laugher died down and as the others were busy passing bowls and condiments, he caught the Texan's eye and gave him his best Wilmington smile. The blush that followed reminded him of how much they almost lost.
The kitchen table was laden with a large roast of beef, a tray of lasagna, a oversized pan of herb roasted winter vegtables, several kinds of hot rolls, stuffing, turkey and other offerings. The seven sat sated around Chris's large den, talking, eating and embracing the holiday. The tree looked beautiful and the Christmas music in the background created a rich aroma of nostalgia. In the background, a football game was on the silent television and J.D. and Buck were watching intently. Chris walked gingerly from the bathroom, pausing unseen at the entryway, drinking in all that was good and fine. How much these men cared for him, still left him amazed and grateful. He slipped into his study and sat behind his desk. He picked up the small baseball glove and touched every inch of it tenderly. He glanced at the photo of Sara and Adam on his desk; his son was wearing the glove. He spent some time with his family, as he did every Chrismas morning since they passed. Recalling how much they'd given him and how much he still loved them. Finally, he brushed his lips against the small glove and rested it against the photo, then slipped back into the present.
"You want some coffee, Chris?" Ezra asked, guiding his unsteady boss to the nearest vacant seat.
"Thanks, Ez," the blond nodded, watching Vin's dozing body with a curious face. The Texan had spent most of the day before cleaning, shopping and decorating. Buck's whimsical smile when he picked him up from the hospital yesterday, confirmed that. 'The boy's wearin' himself out makin' Merry'. Chris knew the exhaustion Vin had been lost in all day, was from far more than cleaning. Emotional wear and tear had just about done him in. The last few days his friend and been through a Hellish ordeal. Now, his spirit was renewed and he could finally rest. He was on the sofa, one hand tossed casually across an oversized blue flannel shirt. His lips were parted and he was breathing heavily through his mouth. Frowning, he rosed and stood over the body.
"He's got a cold," Nate answered of the loud breathing of the sharpshooter.
Chris leaned over more and sniffed, then saw a gold box under Vin's free hand, stuffed down the cushion of the sofa. He gently lifted the box from the slack fingers and noticed it was empty. He sniffed again.
"Hey!" he twacked Vin's face with the empty box. "Wake up you chocolate guzzling thief." His green eyes narrowed when the lips shut, a soft snore was ended and the younger man tried to settle deeper into the sofa. "Oh no you don't...you ate my truffles...you're a pig, Tanner, you know that? You ate every damn one of them." He watched as one blue eye opened, regarded him for a moment, then closed again. A croaky drawl then followed.
"...it was 'plied'..."
"It was not implied!" Chris answered the sleepy reply, "You got brass balls, Tanner."
"No need t'thank me," Vin yawned, sat up and scratched his belly.
"Thank you!" Chris stood up with the tired man, meeting him eye to eye. "For what?"
"Well, ya ain't fonda sweets t'begin with and yer a rookie. Ya don't know how get a whole bunch of 'em in without gettin' sick. Ya already got boxes at the office, some in yer study and more in the kitchen. These here was some kinda gourmet types. Ye'd have never been able t'handle 'em...most likely wouldda come back up. Then I'd hafta clean yer bathroom again. How yer Ma's hip?"
Chris had his mouth half open, ready to sharply address the rambling Texan, but the last line caught him unaware. "My mother's hip? What?" he blinked at the body squirming past him. "Her hip's fine..." he answered in a confused tone.
"Ya oughtta count yer blessin's...lots of folks her age hafta get new ones..." This was punctuated by a sound round of coughing, as the body shuffled into the kitchen and got a new plate.
Larabee's whole face creased in confusion. The room was silent for a moment, then a slow scattering of smirking chortles began, half hidden behind coffee mugs. One witness wasn't so shy and laughed outright.
"Shut up Buck!" the blond growled.
"You best give up," Wilmington observed, "You're never gonna catch that boy..." he said of the string of Vin-logic that the Texan used with such skill. It wasn't the first time his sly-crafted rambling explanation left the blond speechless and it wouldn't be the last.
Chris eyed the back of Vin's shaggy head in the kitchen, as he filled his plate. He tossed the empty box aside and began to chuckle. He sat down and took the coffee Ezra handed him, sippipng it thoughtfully. He noticed after a few minutes, Vin hadn't returned. Frowning, he made his way to the kitchen and saw the half full plate, sitting idle. His eyes wanderd around the kitchen and then he ducked into the utility room. Vin wasn't facing him. He was leaning over the washer, staring out the window. Chris moved next to him, studying the painful expression.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," Vin replied and sighed, "I got t'thinkin' about that boy's grandpa. I can't help wonderin' how he's doin'. What if he hates me?"
Chris flinched at that, he hadn't been expecting it. He thought on how quiet Vin had been all day and now worried about his state. There was something still brewing inside him and it needed to be brought out. He knew Vin wanted to talk, so he waited, until the offer came.
"Don't do this to yourself, Vin. It won't bring that kid back. Nick told me this morning that kid had a file and inch thick. He's was busted when he was eight and has been in and out of jail ever since. You can't save everybody, Cowboy." Still the blue eyes remained haunted. "Vin," he sighed, rested a hand on the other's shoulder and stared at the beautiful mountain. "You told me on the phone you found your answer out there."
"There's a special place up there, I'd like t'show ya sometime. Josiah told me once that a church is where ya feel closest t'the Lord. Well, I guess I got me a real good one..." he paused and cocked his head, sneezed several times and sniffed. "It was up there, at that place, I was prayin' fer ya...and the boy. I didn't know what road t'take...then...I seen a dove."
Chris's head snapped at the inflection in Vin's voice. He saw the emotion pouring from the blue eyes and realized how hard it was for him to share this. Whatever happened on that mountain, had clearly moved his friend deeply.
"I seen other doves 'afore," he recalled wistfully. "...but not like this one. It was just...just...beautiful. It looked right at me...then it flew away. I mean it soared, Chris, right up t'the clouds..."
"You're lucky Vin," the leader noted with a little awe. "I wish I could have seen it too..."
"It's more than that," Vin pulled his gaze away and sat down on the large bench on the sidewall. "I have somethin' fer ya..."
"Vin, you already gave me a gift and I don't mean the box under the tree..." he said of the blue note, which was now in his study.
"I know," Vin nodded, "but somethin' happened in...that...church...I ain't never felt the likes of it...I can't stop thinkin' on it...why did He talk t'me? I heard him...the infant I mean, in the church," He addressed the confused stare. "Can I tell ya about it?"
"Do I have to lock up my chocolate?" Chris teased and saw a smile and a short burst of released tension.
"No!" Vin laughed, took a deep breath and began. "It was right after I left ya Friday night, I seen a winda at the store..."
Chris listened patiently as Vin's soft words cascaded around the room and slid easily into his chest. He felt every painful recollection, winced at Vin's deepfelt remorse and wondered how God had entrusted such a special person to him. Finally, it was done and Vin was trembling. Tears hovered, but didn't spill. A shaky hand swiped them away.
"I'd say God's a pretty good sharpshooter too..." Chris reflected, "His aim is always true. He found his mark..."
"Yeah?" Vin's head rose as Chris's reply hit home.
"Yeah!" Chris reaffirmed, "You done bawlin' now? I'm hungry."
"I wasn't bawlin'!" Vin protested with a waver. "Here," he slid his hand over, giving Chris a small item.
"The dove?" Chris examined the tiny replica of the one Vin said he placed in the manger.
"Yeah...I learned up on that mountain. I learned what the gift of the dove is...it's what ya give me since we met. Unwaverin' faith. Ya got no idea how much ya mean t'me."
Chris bit his lip painfully as Vin stood and went to the window again. He saw the muscles in the Texan's back tensing and flexing as he tried to control his emotions. But Vin was wrong, he understood all about that dove's gift. He gave his friend a minute to compose himself and moved next to him. He let his eyes take in that same mountain in the distance.
"I do know, Vin," he said quietly, "You see, my dove, he's got blue eyes..." He heard the sharp intake of breath and rested his hand on the soft blue flannel back. "You gonna cry again?"
"I ain't crying!" Vin laughed, rubbing his eyes.
"I could make money off of this. Buck's got his camcorder... Hey Buck!" he called out, before a hand was clamped over his mouth. They struggle sent them sideways, onto a pile of wash on the floor.
"What the Hell happened?" Buck asked, watching the tangled pile of limbs that were quaking in laughter.
"Well, you see Vin here..."
"Nothin' happened!" Vin answered, clamping a hand over the blond's mouth.
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear you two were drunk." Buck shook his head at the odd display. "You both better get off that cold floor, before I sent Nathan in here." He warned and left.
"Get me up, Larabee, I got a plate waitin' on me..." Vin crowed, lifting an arm and letting the older man haul him upright. "Thanks..." he said seriously, of more than the hand.
"You're welcome," Chris smiled.
Chris yawned and poured himself a glass or orange juice. The gray, murky day was not long up and his head was pounding. The doctor told him the pain and dizziness would remain for some time. He'd already faced Tanner's ire, having pushed himself to the day before and blacking out. The first thing he saw was the angry blue eyes flashing above him. Vin hadn't said a word the rest of the night. He was just settling at the kitchen table, when the younger man appeared. It wasn't so much his arrival, but his dress that made the leader take notice. He was wearing one of the suits he normally wore to work.
"'s'okay if I borrow this?" Vin asked quietly.
"Sure," Chris replied, then saw how pale Vin was and how bad his hands were trembling. "You okay?"
"The funeral's today."
"Funeral?" Chris repeated, then recalled a blurb on the news the night before. The sixteen year old killer was being buried this morning. "Vin, I don't think that's a good idea."
"I want yer word, ya won't fuck up like yesterday and end up on the floor." Tanner requested, still angry at frightened he was, when he found Chris unconscious.
"I'm not gonna pass out again," Chris shot back, then saw the blue eyes still flashing. "Okay..." With that, Vin pulled his coat on and headed for the door. "Vin...Vin...dammit!" Chris tossed a wadded up napkin and got to his feet. The kitchen spun around and he sat down again. "Stubborn...son-of-a-bitch..." he hissed and grabbed the phone.
It was a small church on the edge of town. Vin kept the dark glasses on his face and slid inside the door. Very few people were there and the boy's coffin was at the head of the center aisle. He sat in the back, taking huge gulping breaths of air and trying to find his lost nerve. More people arrived, kids from school and some neighbors. He took a deep breath and stood up, taking his legs from the pew. Vin felt every eye on him as he made his way up the aisle. His heart was hammering so loud, it hurt his chest. His throat was sore and his legs shaking badly. He kept both hands clenched in fists at his side and finally arrived. He knelt down and said a few prayers, before leaving a small carved dove on the boy's folded hands. He prayed that the troubled youth found the peace in eternal sleep that eluded him in life. He took a deep breath and rose, turning to meet the eldery man.
"I'm Vin Tanner," he rasped painfully.
"I know who you are."
The words came rushed and forced, creating a hostile air. Vin was trembling so badly, he wondered how he was still upright. "I wanted t'tell ya, how sorry I am fer what yer goin' through..."
"That bullet you put in him," The old man stood up and looked at the anguished face before him. "it didn't kill him, Son. He died a long time ago. The police report...it said you waited until the last possible minute. You gave him every chance. I want to thank you for that. I'm not angry or bitter at you, Mr. Tanner. I'm grieving for the small boy I lost years ago."
"Thank you," Vin left out his breath and shook the man's hand, before struggling to get back down the aisle. He almost made it. Halfway down, the gravity of the situation, compiled with the whispering voices and the eyes trained on him, caused his knees to buckle.
"Aw, Hell..." he whispered, then felt a strong arm steady him. He staggered a few feet and was shoved in a pew. He looked over and was stunned at the pale face he saw. "Chris!"
"Take it easy, Vin," the other coached, seeing how terribly pale his friend was. "Sit back, close your eyes and take some deep breaths. You're as white as a sheet."
He did as ordered, trying to keep his jerking limbs from twitching and his breath from leaving his body in ragged, short bursts. He felt a hand on his back, another on his shoulder and two gripping his neck. His eyes shot open and he swallowed hard, gazing at his brothers. Josiah was next to him, standing taller than a redwood. Ezra was behind him, his short smile and wink taking some of the trembles away. J.D. gripped his shoulder, nodded and sat next to Ezra. The hand on his shoulder pressed again and a small carving with big feet appeared in his vision. He gave a short laugh through the tears that were building.
"I got my foot ready," Nate warned, "Don't you go passin' out and whackin' yer head on that pew."
The strong hands behind him kept massaging his neck, taking the tension away. He sighed and relaxed, letting those fingers work their magic. He cocked his head backwards and saw the mustache first, then the bold wink.
"Bucklin..." he choked, his emotions cresting. They came them, the tears that had been building up for over a week. They rained down for the boy who lay cold several feet away. They came for the brothers who surrounded him, basking him in the most power force he'd ever felt. He let them fall, he didn't have any reason not to. He was with family, he was home.
THE END
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