Setting: OW
Vin watched the darkness recede into an evasive blue sky. He was slumped over in the saddle and sat up, crying out as his ribs and back protested. He felt Dawn's warm breath as she extended her arms, sending a blanket of rosy pink and orange clouds above. Her glorious robe tinted everything around him, even his skin. Another hour passed by before he eyed a rock formation favorably and drew the horse over. The early morning sun was already hot and he swayed a bit as he slid from the saddle. He gripped the saddlehorn and held on, until he found his legs. He took off the saddlebags and blanket, setting up Buck's canopy. A trio of newsy lizards eyed him with disdain. He glared back at the weathered creatures, wrinkled brown and grays bits of life, as they scurried off to their secret hiding place.
Hell. That's what this place must be. He'd never been so warm... or so weak.
He ached inside and his head was on the losing end of a fierce battle. The sweat clung to every inch of his body and stung his eyes. He felt the hot breath from his mouth as it sauntered over his chest. He managed to peel an eye open and saw Tanner kneeling over a small fire. Through blurry eyes and a screaming skull, he watched the pain-etched face fighting hard. The younger man looked awful and winced visibly, clutching his thigh. The leg wound... he'd forgotten about that and so had Tanner. Damn, hardheaded kid.
Buck looked away at the raw beauty of the desert. A terrible beauty was she... alluring and deadly. He'd come close before, several times, but today as the quiet killer lurked near, Buck Wilmington knew this was his last sunrise. Regrets... he sighed painfully. The beautiful woman he'd hoped one day to call his own... a pack of kids... a small ranch. He sighed again and turned as a soft cry came from the other man. Tanner's cracked lips were bleeding and his skin was burned off in patches. Yet it was the startling blue eyes, which still glimmered with hope, that gave him a sharp pain. Why was this man fighting so hard for him? Tanner was smart, he had to know it was hopeless... for one of them. He eyed the horse and fought hard for another breath. The kid still had a chance. Damn, but it was hard to breathe. He grit his teeth and gripped the cool sand under his hand. He let the grains run through his fingers and shut his eyes hoping she'd come and take him now, so the other could live.
Vin's fingers wouldn't work and he fumbled with the remaining fruit. He saved three pears for later and mashed up two for Buck's tea. Clutching the peach preserves and the mug of fruit tea, he crawled painfully over to Buck.
He was reclining against a rock, covered in sweat. Vin heard the frightful gasping, as the older man desperately sought air. He slumped momentarily, defeated. For the first time, he eyed the horizon, his swollen eyes still sharp. He recognized the landscape, they'd ridden farther than he thought.
His hope rose and he realized if he got the last of the herbs into Buck and let the horse rest a bit, they had a chance. He sucked the blood from his lip and spit out the pebble he'd been using to keep some saliva in his mouth.
"Tanner..." Buck croaked, weakly tapping the first thing his fingers touched.
Vin turned at the gentle touch to his knee. "'bout time ya woke up... hate eatin' alone. Here, slow and easy." He coached, having opened the jar of preserves. He sniffed it and took a tentative bite. Deciding they were okay, he gathered some on the tip of the knife and offered itto Buck.
Buck parted his parched lips and watched the trembling hand guide the preserves in his mouth. Then he offered some of the herb-laced fruit tea.
Swallowing was difficult and it took him several minutes to get the warm pulpy mixture down. He shook his head after just a few offerings and began gasping for breath. There was no air left, he couldn't breathe at all. His dark eyes darted frightfully and he gripped Tanner's shirt hard.
Vin saw the raw fear shining from Buck's feverish eyes, before they slid shut. His keen eyes knew what his heavy heart was denying. He froze for a moment as he gripped the slack hand. He shot his eyes heavenward and felt a pain so sharp in his chest he yelped.
"Not now... please..." he croaked, his eyes flickering. They were so close to Salt Flats, with any luck they'd be there in a few hours. "Ya can't have 'im." He tugged at Buck possessively.
Buck dragged his heavy head sideways, cracked an eye open and saw the unadulterated pain on the sunburned face. Through blisters and cracked, bleeding lips, the plea lanced the tall man's heart with a mighty blow. He felt tears prick at his eyes and fought hard to keep breathing, but it was too hard and hurt too much. Tanner's face housed such pain, he couldn't bear it and closed his eyes. He felt the arms wrap around him briefly and shuddered, trying to speak... not even sure what to say.
Vin felt Buck slump sideways and caught him. He held on for a moment, as the dark head hit his chest. He swallowed frantically, pushing back the pain and fear. Buck couldn't die in his arms, he wouldn't allow it. He shoved the other man back and gripped the slick face hard.
"Get yer eyes open!" he drilled and waited until the slits appeared. "Don't ya die on me ya ungrateful son-of-a-bitch. 's'this the thanks I get fer draggin' yer carcass through the fuckin' desert?"
"Goddamn sorry-assed tracker..." Buck thought, too weak to speak.
Where did that come from? Buck felt the pain slam into his head again and gripped Tanner's hand weakly, as he let go. His head slid down and landed on the lean shoulder. He felt a callused hand on his cheek and a single sharp hiss. The vision was clear this time. There was a large group of people at an Indian village. The kid with the bowler hat was there, the large man with gray hair and light eyes, the soulful brown-skinned man, the gold-toothed gambler and Chris Larabee. He didn't understand who these strangers with Chris were and why he was compelled to see more. A Indian with an injured arm... a broken father on his knees... a buckskinned arm coming towards him, a tan jacket with a medicine pouch. The swaying motion of the pouch made his head scream.
"No...." he croaked, jerking his head up.
"Thank God!" Vin hissed, feeling his moist eyes recede. He thought Buck had drawn his last breath. He held on tight for a moment, not willing to relinquish his hold. Buck's weak voice broke into his moment.
"Tanner..."
"Ya scare me like that again and I'm likely t'leave ya here." Vin whispered, hands trembling as they righted Buck.
Buck smiled at the emotion on the younger man's face. His sharp eyes were like mirrors; he could read them that clearly. Tanner's hands were shaking so badly, he barely managed to pick the mug back up. He offered another bit of the pulpy tea. Buck shook his head and found a quiet peace. The decision had been easy and seemed to take the strain away. He lifted a hand and touched the side of the bounty's blistered, sunburned face, wrapping his fingers around the slumped neck.
"...take the horse... ride as far from Texas as you can... Go..." Buck offered with all his heart, which is just how the other man accepted.
Buck's gift hit Vin hard. He stared long and hard into the dark eyes fighting to stay open. His jaw clenched as he felt Buck's trembling fingers on his cheek. He covered the hand with his own and stared hard into the giving blue eyes. He allowed his deep feelings to shine through his own eyes and saw Buck smile weakly and tap his face. Vin closed his eyes and let the weight of the offer settle in. He felt Buck's hand recede and sucked in his breath hard.
Buck watched the emotional play before him change drastically. The face that hovered over him now was pissed off but good. He saw the scowl form slowly and felt every fiber of tension from the gritty voice that assaulted him. The hands gripped his shoulders and shook him hard.
"It's a wonder ya can hold onto that badge with fuckin' stupid ideas like that..." he growled and produced the tea.
Buck didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He made no move to take the fruit on the knife tip before his lips.
"Don't piss me off..." Vin snarled and saw the lips part. "Good... we ain't far from Salt Flats. I'll get ya there... ya got m'word."
Buck didn't doubt that vow. The determined chin jutted out, defying the devil and sending Death back to her cavern. He dozed for a bit and felt movement as his harness was adjusted. He forced his eyes open and saw the horse ready to go. Tanner was standing next to it, trying to get a leg up. After moving the horse closer, he would reattach the travois. Three times the foot missed the stirrup and landed hard. The fourth time send the younger man to his back, crying out in pain.
Vin landed on his butt and grimaced, clutching his thigh. The whitewall of fire consumed his leg and hip. The jarring landfall had sent a wave of agony through his ribs. He couldn't move... the pain paralyzed him. He slid back as black spots danced before his face. His head landed in the soft sand and the sun scorched his pale eyes.
Buck's eyes widened in shock as the diamondback slithered from between the rocks and right toward Tanner's unprotected neck.
Despite the night's exhausting actions, no one moved towards a bed. Upon their return, Inez and Nettie dished out soup and sandwiches. As dawn rose, the McTavish clan departed for their ranch. Chris personally sat by Glen's side until he woke up. Nathan had to rewrap Chris's wrist and it now was more comfortable. His features were beyond exhausted. His face was shadowed, green eyes heavy with dark circles rimming them. That was the face the young hero saw when he woke up.
"Mr. Larabee... Mrs. Travis..." he coughed and let Chris help him sit up.
"She's fine thanks to you. Once you're up to it, she'd like to do a story on you. You're quite a hero."
"No, Sir, Mrs. Travis is the hero. I was just glad to help. Can I go home, Mr. Jackson?"
"Okay, but you stay in bed for a couple days. You lost some blood and need to rest. Your brothers are bringing a wagon in town to take you and your Pa home."
Nathan eased the boy to his feet and helped him down the stairs. Craig McTavish was slumbering inside the wagon, the concussion left him very groggy. J.D. was riding along to give them a hand. Chris was proud of him, too. He knew how much J.D. was hurting inside. He wandered over and eyed the sleepy sheriff.
"You okay?"
"No, but I will be." J.D. eyed Chris. "Seems like your boot is just the right size to kick my butt."
"Yeah, how 'bout that..." Chris agreed and gave the brown-trousered knee a pat.
Ezra, Josiah and Nathan were on the boardwalk. Inez had prepared breakfast and came out to tell them. Nettie and Casey were over at Mary's. The town was shaken by the evening's events and still buzzing about the daring rescue.
"I'll swing by and get the bank manager and the trunk from your place," J.D. announced, gaining a nod from the leader.
"Mr. Larabee! Mr. Larabee!"
"Dougie?" Chris squatted as the six-year-old McTavish lad flew at him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." the boy said happily, producing a grubby fist. He stretched his neck to see over the wagon, but it was too high. Josiah gave him a boost and he saw his father sleeping. Satisfied, he demanded to be put down. "Where's Vin?"
"How come you call him Vin?" The leader asked, curious at the call. The others were all addressed by their last names, except the tracker. "'cause that's his name," the dark-head shook in exasperation. "Well spoken, Young Man." Ezra nodded at the logic.
"Well, where is he?"
"He's not here, Dougie," Chris said, squatting and looking at the large blue eyes. Dougie and Billy followed Vin everywhere. They were fascinated by his accent, Indian background and hunting, tracking and shooting. Vin had the patience of a saint, never tiring of their endless questions. It also didn't hurt that the tracker had a sweet tooth. Chris smiled slightly, recalling an afternoon when he'd found the three sound asleep, fishing poles in the water and an empty sack of candy on Vin's lap.
"Oh, I got something for him. It's kinda important, should I wait?"
Nathan winced as the morning sun only added to the harsh shadows of pain on Chris Larabee. He watched the blond take a deep breath and rest a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Uh... Vin's gone away for awhile, Dougie, and Buck went with him."
"He didn't say goodbye..." the voice wavered and Sean rested both hands on his brother's shoulders from behind.
"He had to leave in a hurry. It was an important job." Chris's voice was clipped and they all saw the struggle.
"Well, I got his money... see?" he held out three pennies. "My slate busted last month and I didn't want Pa to be mad. Vin buyed me a new one and I been doin' chores and stuff. I was gonna be all done payin'." He thought for a moment and held out the coins to Chris. "Will you keep them? I ain't real good at findin' stuff and I reckon I'll lose 'em right quick. Can you give 'em to Vin for me?"
"Yeah." Chris's eyes dimmed again and he took a deep breath. He clutched the sweaty coins and stood up. Josiah rested a hand on his shoulder and gave a squeeze.
"You sure are lucky, having Vin as your best friend. I like him, he sure is something!" The lad tossed up at the blond man.
"Yeah, Dougie, I sure am lucky," Chris hissed, biting back a wave of pain. "I like him too."
With a short ruffle to the boy's dark head, Chris walked up the street towards his room. He paused when he passed Vin's wagon. He stared at it for a long moment, still seeing the scruffy tracker climbing out of the damn thing, wearing a scowl. He eyed the tattered canvas and the carefully folded shirts inside. He took another deep breath and let his eyes linger on the tracker's few possessions. Then he continued to his room, where he wanted to lose himself in a dreamless sleep.
Josiah and Nathan kept their rifles trained on the disgruntled prisoners as they were led to the wagon. Manacles bound them hand and foot, providing insurance for their short ride to Fort Franklin. The large list of federal crimes and bodies left slaughtered prompted the Judge to the decision to hold the trial at the fort. He'd try the gang at the nearby Government institution and carry out the sentence. The trip would be about half a day, and Ezra and J.D. would eat lunch at the fort and return later.
"You think he's okay?" Nate asked, watching J.D. checking the leg irons and cuffing a surly prisoner.
"Define okay." The preacher replied, eyeing the dark circles under the youth's eyes.
"Buck was like kin to the boy, he's gotta be hurtin'..."
"...and you're not?"
"That's not what I meant." Nate scowled, glaring at his close friend. "He's still got a lot of growing up to do. He learned alot from Buck, you can see his influence on J.D. since he arrived."
"That's your answer," Sanchez sighed, wiping his brow. "What Buck gave that boy the most, is the reason he's sittin' so tall this morning." He cocked his head as the wagon pulled out, and nodded to their two friends. The prisoners were back to back, cuffed to a pole in the middle of the wagon. It was impossible to move. "...and that was his eternal gift. A part of him will always be here... through J.D."
Nate's eyes drifted to the boarding house and he couldn't help think of Chris Larabee. Guilt can do bad things to a man's soul. But to lose your two closest friends in such a manner. Would the lingering questions of his actions destroy their leader?
"That's another story," Josiah noted the concerned dark eyes. "Lord knows that man has carried his share of guilt already."
"I hope he's listenin' to Vin," Nate thought aloud, "That's the one voice he needs to hear now."
Josiah nodded and eyed his stone church down the block. His own soul was heavy, feeling the loss of his two friends. He cradled the rifle over his shoulder and turned, seeking solace in the cool adobe walls. "Want some company?" Nate asked, watching the pensive eyes flicking. "Maybe later...got some pondering' to do." He replied, clamping a hand on the dark shirt and retreating.
Vin gasped audibly as the shot whizzed by, sending the startled horse into the desert.
"Ah shit..." By the time he forced his aching, blistered body up and staggered a few feet, the equine had disappeared. He didn't move for several minutes, as all his hope drained away. He dropped his head onto his heavy chest and clenched both fists in frustration.
Buck dropped back against the rock, too tired and worn out to feel the full impact of his decision. He didn't want to see the defeat in Tanner's eyes, he couldn't take that. He slid his own eyes shut, making the pain and heat disappear. He escaped to the north, to the majestic Rockies. He felt the snow falling and a cold wind caress him. He smiled and sighed contentedly, blissfully unaware of the anguished companion he'd left behind.
Vin turned in time to see Buck's eyes slide shut. His own cracked face shifted painfully as they took in the pistol in Buck's hand. He'd forgotten about that, it was tucked in the front of the blanket. Buck must have been more delirious that he thought. He'd tried to kill him while he was down. He eyed the still early morning sun and the large stretch of land ahead. He dropped to the fallen man's side and tapped the stilled face. "Buck... Buck..." he croaked, his blistered fingers sliding down the slack face. He covered Buck's head and chest as best he could, preventing the sun from burning him.
Sighing, he eyed the ropes that had been connected to the horse. He adjusted the harness and slid it over his shoulders and made another pass around his hips. He glanced around for the pebble he'd lost, realizing just how valuable it was now. Sucking on that small flat stone created saliva, which he needed. It was when he bent to pick it up, that he saw the dead snake. A western diamondback, several feet long. He spun in stunned silence, realizing just what a sacrifice Buck Wilmington made. That gave him a new flicker of strength.
"We ain't licked yet. I'll get ya there... Marshal Wilmington," he noted proudly and squared the course rope on his shoulders. With every painful step, the ropes chewed the skin on his shoulders and razor-like teeth ripped through his leg. He stumbled onward, oblivious to time, space or surroundings. The only thing he could concentrate on was placing one foot in front of the other.
"All secure, Major Carter."
"Very good, Timmons, resume your patrol." The senior officer returned the young man's salute and turned to the two peacekeepers.
"The judge will arrive in three days. I don't think it will be a long trial.
My thanks to you for bringing this bloodthirsty gang to justice."
"We merely provided transport, My Good Major," Ezra nodded curtly, fanning himself, "...and I am sure we have not heard the last of that brood. That repulsive reptile left a litter of mongrels down south. They will, no doubt, carry on in his wake."
"We're beefing up the border patrols and President Grant is sending more troops. With expansion projections, we can't afford to be cautious." He turned to the somber, dark-hair sheriff, "From what I've been told, you wear that star well."
"Thanks," J.D. nodded, "...so did another lawman I once knew." He turned and walked towards the officer's quarters, where the Major's wife had prepared lunch. Try as he might, he couldn't stop thinking this was all wrong. A feeling was gnawing as his insides, something he'd never encountered. It wasn't that he was calmly accepted Buck's death, or that he was in shock.
His cool demeanor was due to the unshakeable feeling that his best friend was still alive. He knew Chris was right about the odds of survival, and he worried about the story. That Buck would tie Vin up and take him to a Texas jail, that just didn't sit well. What if Buck made it to Texas and they hung Vin? What if...
"J.D.?" Ezra waved a hand in front of his non-responsive partner, until the hazel eyes blinked at him.
"Huh?"
"Mrs. Carter is speaking to you."
"Oh, I'm sorry," J.D. blushed, realizing the pretty brunette was in front of him. He hadn't realized they were at the officer's quarters. A small child peeked out from behind his mother's skirt. A pretty blond girl of about six stood in the doorway shyly.
"Well, now, I wasn't informed that we would be dining with a princess," Ezra oozed, giving the girl a killer smile and gaining the return smile he'd wanted. "May I?" He extended his arm and the little girl eyed her mother, who nodded.
"I'm Elizabeth Carter," she greeted them, "this is Hannah and James, our children. I hope you're hungry, I've prepared chicken creole."
"Surely I've died and gone to heaven." Ezra amazed as the familiar scent of a favorite dish assaulted him.
Lunch was quiet with the news of the territory being the main subject. After thanking their hostess, the two began their journey back to Four Corners.
Ezra wasn't surprised when they stopped at Coogan's Pond. It was the place where J.D. and Buck often sought refuge. Whether fishing, swimming or just shooting the breeze, it was where they shared so much. He saw the youth slide from his horse and walk to the water's edge.
"I shall miss our charming rogue and our fearless tracker." Ezra's voice carried over the stilled water.
"Why do you stay?" J.D. blurted, turning and facing the startled man.
"What?"
"You don't fit. I mean you got fancy clothes and expensive words, you could make a killing in New Orleans or Frisco. Why Four Corners?"
"Why indeed..." Ezra mused, not certain of the answer. "Truth be told, Son, I honestly cannot say. Four Corners doesn't have the glamour of San Francisco or the mystery of New Orleans," he paused and his voice tensed as he thought on the booming laugher of Buck Wilmington and Vin Tanner's bashful blush. "...but..."
J.D. heard the pinched voice and saw the Standish mask drop briefly. Buck liked Ezra, how many times had he told J.D. that. He'd start a sentence with 'Hell, Kid, you should have seen Ezra in action last night, it was a thing of beauty'. Vin had accepted Ezra from the start, before anyone of them trusted him. Vin had a way of knowing people... seeing inside. J.D. knew that Ezra was grateful for that.
"I'm sorry, Ezra. I didn't mean that the way it came out." J.D. paused, and eyed the uncertainty in the pale green eyes. "You in a hurry? Maybe we could sit for a spell?"
Ezra's didn't expect that and didn't hide the astonished face. J.D. was offering more than a rest stop. He was inviting the southerner to share his spot in the sun. The place where he and Buck shared so much. He slide off the horse and withdrew his silver flask. He saw the warm smile J.D. offered and returned it. They sat quietly for some time, eyeing the gentle current and listening to the calls of nature.
"He admired you." J.D. said, without turning.
"Hah!" Ezra scoffed, "I fail to see how he would have become that desperate."
"Don't talk like that Ezra. There's nobody here but us, you don't have to pretend."
"I'm sorry, J.D." Ezra offered sincerely and stood up. "But I'm not Buck. It came so easy to him and he reveled in it. Life, love, women, song, gambling, fighting... he was a modern day renaissance man. I wish I'd had the foresight to tell him."
"...and Vin..."
"Mr. Tanner."
J.D. heard the softness tinged with emotion in the other's voice. He saw warmth in the green eyes and saw the gold tooth glinting in the sun. Ezra's mouth opened but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to, his unmasked features spoke eloquently for him. Vin knew Ezra admired him, and knowing that was some salvation for the gambler. He got on his horse and started up the road towards Four Corners. He reined his horse in, as the Southerner called.
"Mr. Dunne?" Ezra paused and waited until the somber eyes met his, "Thank you..."
The scorpions skittered, tails high, while the snakes and rats looked on evilly. The winged predators swooped and scoffed, readying themselves for a feast. The sun was brutally cold in its punishment of the accidental nomadic pair. Thrust into the nightmaric oasis, they forged onward.
The bearer of the litter knew not where he was going. He'd long passed through the valley of reason and was now trudging through the canyon of oblivion. With every bone-searing step he staggered, Vin Tanner felt Death caressing his chest. Sweat stung his eyes and every muscle screamed in protest. His vision was blurred and his mind seemed to have turned to mush.
He couldn't think... or hear... and a coldness had settled inside. The cruel expanse of terrain they crossed seemed to be endless. Then above the dust and patches of green thrush and sticky cacti, something took shape. Tall, dark formations... buildings... a town... hope... salvation. His parched throat croaked a feeble grunt of exclamation through bleeding, cracked lips. He tried to press harder, fearing that somehow it would disappear, then it happened.
"No!" he rasped as he found himself on his knees. His heart clenched and his neck and shoulders screamed and bled. The jagged teeth of the ropes made a meal of his tender flesh. He grunted and groaned, straining with his last ounce of grit, but it only landed him on his face. He couldn't go on; Fate chose this moment to mock him. Like Eve dangling an apple, she let his painful eyes be burned by the sight of the city.
Something was wrong. Buck was roused from his delirium and peeled an eye open. He saw the same outskirts of a town, just a few miles ahead. It was so hard to stay awake, his chest ached and every breath was forced and cruel.
Movement of any kind send the axe deeper into his already pulsating skull, but still, something was wrong. He turned slightly, hearing a mewing sound.
A wounded animal? Then he was sorry he'd kept his eyes open. There just a few feet away, tangled in bloodied ropes was a burned face, whose shocked eyes were lost in a river of defeat. This time, Buck saw the sound as it went airborne. A cry of frustration, colored with sorrow, sailed through the air and lanced the rogue's heart. This gutsy, young warrior, who'd saved his life and didn't know the meaning of the word 'quit', was utterly and totally spent. His noble heart was willing but his vanquished body betrayed him. He beckoned the young man with his soul and the blue eyes cast away.
"Tan...ner..." Buck whispered and held out a small pear, the last remaining fruit.
Vin was on his side, the ropes felt awfully heavy and he couldn't seem to move. He tasted the gritty sand as it washed in his mouth with each short, panting breath. It stuck to his face and burned his already tender flesh.
Internally, he wept tears of defeat; externally he was too exhausted to produce a tear. He heard Buck and raised his face. He tried to move, but was unable. He furrowed his brow and began to move, inch by inch on his belly. It felt like forever and took every breath from him. Finally, he collapsed, his last ounce of courage was spent.
Buck was silently urging the weary body on, watching every painful inch of ground covered with a hand out. But then he collapsed, the hat flopped over the burned face and Buck couldn't see the sorrowful blue eyes. He reached out and leaned over, the pain ripping through his chest took a back seat.
With a grunt of effort, he was able to touch the side of Tanner's neck.
Vin felt the brush of fingertips against his neck and turned. He tried to move his own arm, but it was trapped under him and snagged in rope. He shook his head and the hat flopped free. He leaned his face closer, scratching the few inches of unmarred skin and felt Buck's fingers on the underside of his chin. He saw the meager fruit and managed to move his lips.
"I ain't much fer pears..." he denied and shut his eyes.
Buck took a bite of the pear and placed it in his fingers. He reached over and brushed it against the bounty's parched lips. They moved instinctively and he slid the fruit inside. He saw one eye open and a half-grin form.
"I'm partial to sharin' myself..." Buck croaked and took a small bite for himself. Then he nibbled another piece off and fed the nearly unconscious young man. It was a curious feeling that hovered around him. With every bit of food he managed to get in Texan, he felt a shiver inside. It was a good feeling, but a strange one too. A week ago, he didn't know this brave young hero. But now he felt his heart melting every time he looked at the shaggy head and soulful eyes. The pear was done and as he tossed the small pit away, he felt a smothering sadness. The intimacy of the brief meal was a comfort to him. As the pit landed in the sand and was quickly covered, he felt his last hope die.
Vin was moved not as much by Buck's tender ministrations, he was well familiar with Wilmington's large heart. But that it was Marshal Buck Wilmington, a stranger who'd not only accepted him as an equal, but put all his faith in him, that was really choking him. Vin reflected on the offer to take the horse and ride to freedom. An offer from the depth's of the stranger's heart. Something that even now, gave Vin an undefinable tightness inside. Getting to meet and understand the man behind the star had meant a lot to him. Oh, that the world was losing something as fine as Marshal Buck Wilmington. He lifted an eye and saw the handsome man smile, his face scored with pain. He felt Buck's fingers brush the underside of his jaw. He sighed blinked and tried to speak.
Buck saw the gratitude pouring from the blue eye that was barely visible.
Stubborn fool should have taken the horse, at least one of them would have been saved. But that wasn't the kid's way. Buck smiled and rested his hand against Tanner's neck. He felt the raspy breath, released on the sigh and smiled weakly. The lips were moving and Buck leaned forward, creasing his eyes with effort.
He didn't hear. Vin scowled and sighed. Taking a good breath and realizing that it might be his last, he put all his soul into the message. As the strong fingers rested against his face and he felt Death tightening her stronghold on his chest, he opened his mouth again.
"It was an honor ridin' with ya... Marshal."
That hurt. More than the bullet that took a hunk out of his skull. It lanced him deeper than the bullet that rode into his side. It ached more than the burned skin on his body and the rawness of his throat. He felt tears pricking his eyes and one found enough stamina to slide out. Something was fighting hard to get out... something buried deep inside him. What? What was it about this brave young man that made his heart ache? He was a stranger with familiar eyes... haunting eyes. He tapped the stilled face, but the sky eyes were closed and the mighty heart silent. He tugged the hat over the side of Tanner's face, protecting it from the sun. He kept his hand underneath and gripped the back of the fallen man's neck.
"You're a Tanner, Son..." he whispered and frowned. Where the hell did that come from? What did it mean? Why did it cause such a paralyzing grip on his heart. His eyes were drawn to horizon and lingered on the distant town. He let his mind drift, painting a pretty portrait. A ranch house with a corral in the back, full of horses. He was coming out of the barn, leading a pony. A dark-haired boy with devilish blue eyes was sitting on top. Another was following, yanking on his belt. A voice drew his head to the side, over to the large porch. His pretty wife waved to him, holding a chubby infant. It felt so damned good... so right.
"No..." he groaned and snapped himself awake as the image faded. He reached a hand out, desperate to grab the vision and hold onto it. Then his heart quickened and he blinked hard. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The thumping pumper in his chest was in overdrive. Riders were coming... headed this way. He fumbled for the gun in his waist belt, pulled it on his lap and waited. With his left hand, he pinched Tanner's skin.
"Tan... help... come... up... wake..." he stumbled, each word like Greek and hard to press past his lips. But the body didn't stir. Fearfully, and with great trepidation, he slid his fingers down to the Tanner's throat. He closed his eyes, praying for a pulse... and found one. "Hold on..." His strength was fading and he felt himself being drawn down into a deep, black void. He raised the pistol and hoped they were close enough. The shot rang out as he tipped over.
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