Setting: OW
Chris flinched at the weak, rasp from his unnaturally pale friend. He'd seen corpses with better color. He stengthened his grip and leaned forward, trying to ease Buck's anxiety. He waited until the confused blue eyes widened and a small smile appeared.
"Sleepin' on the job again?" he said softly and winced as the smile disappeared and the dark head turned past him to gaze at the empty cot.
"Vin..." Buck hushed, his stricken features lancing Chris. The head turned slowly and the pain radiated from the dark blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Chris... my fault... I... Jesus..."
"I didn't ride all this way to hear you bellyaching, Buck." Chris used a sharp voice, leaned foward and gripped the limp hand tighter. "It's not your fault, neither is losing your memory. That bastard that shot you was out for Vin, a bounty hunter. It was an accident, Buck. Vin would kick your ass good if he heard you pining away like this."
"You weren't there..." Buck whispered, "You didn't see... what that bastard did to him... because of me."
"Adamson?" Chris grunted and saw Buck's face screw up, and his free fist weakly tap the bed. "I took care of that piece of shit."
"I left him there... stubborn fool wouldn't take the horse... toted me on his back..." he shook his mind as too many thoughts jumbled around and made his head ache.
Chris dropped the weak hand as a wave of sweat spilled over Buck's anguished face. The leader rinsed a cloth out and carefully bathed the stricken man.
He saw the eyes turn away, desperately trying to find redemption. He returned the cloth to the basin and shifted, then turned Buck's jaw to face him.
"It's done, Buck and this sac-cloth-and-ashes bullshit ain't gonna change what happened. He made the best out of an impossible situation. You take that and fight back, or I'm walking." Chris issued in a stern edict and saw Buck's eyes riveted to him. He removed his hand and sat back in the chair.
Buck sighed deeply as Larabee's words hovered briefly, before attacking his penance. He knew, without a doubt, that it was no idle threat. The lean man in black wouldn't tolerate such self-mortification. He mind snapped to Vin and he noted how alike they were, like twin sides of a coin.
"I'm trying, Pard..."
Chris cocked his head and turned back, nodding at the effort spent. He lifted Buck's head and gave him the glass of cider Mary brought over. He flipped the pillow to the cool, dry side, before lowering the fever-saturated head.
"...but it's hard..." Buck hissed, "I never had a pain like this..." he paused and thought on Vin's strength. "I've been thinking about him... and much guts it took... he gave me back to you... he knew... how... he..."
"Easy, Buck," Chris pushed the struggling body back into the bed. It was several more minutes before the weary man's eyes opened again.
Buck took a deep breath and saw the sun glinting of the chains on Vin's arms and legs. "...he found me in the dark place I was lost in... with one word... that took the marshal and the bounty away forever." Buck choked, clenching his eyes and the sheet with his fist. He still heard that word... and it hurt. Then a thought struck him. Why was Larabee here? Chris should be with Vin, not him. He turned his head sharply and saw the blond flinch.
Chris saw the question coming and his mind spun, thinking on how to find the right words. He jumped slightly when the door slammed.
"Buck!" J.D.'s enthusiasm filled the dismal room. The arrival of the others chased the question away and gave the leader a respite... for now. Chris gave Buck's shoulder a sold squeeze and nodded, then stood up, letting J.D. release his concern.
"Hey, Kid..." Buck smiled and felt J.D.'s beaming grin, he reached up and tapped the anxious youth's face, "...stayin' out of trouble?"
"Somebody's got to... you can't seem to..." J.D. offered, feeling a little guilty about his sudden euphoria.
"Ezra?" Buck croaked as the gold tooth caught his eye. The younger man broadened his smile and tipped his hat. "Your face..." Buck saw the bruise and frowned.
"Not to worry," the conman eased, "...all in the cause of justice. I asked myself, 'What would Buck do?' and therein gained this result."
Buck shifted his eyes and saw the others, every face worn to the bone and then he saw something else and shivered. He frowned and heard Chris clear his throat and shoot a warning glance to the group. What was wrong?
"How you feelin', Buck?" Nate asked, dropping to his side and pulling out his stethescope. He laid it aside for a moment, wanting to check on Buck's wounds. "Josiah?" he motioned and the preacher leaned in and lifted Buck forward. He smiled down as Buck's head moved and the slitted eyes blinked trying to find him.
"You beat the devil again, Brother," his deep voice welcomed.
Buck relaxed visibly, not just at the warm voice that hovered above or the strong arms that held him. It was having them back, or was it coming back himself? They had to know about Vin by now. Why were they still here? They didn't all need to be here. Somebody had to find Vin... Somebody had to... he flicked an eye over Nathan's shoulder and saw something in the leader's green eyes that scared him. However, his throbbing head wouldn't allow the right order of words to make the question deliverable.
"Chris... "
"Right here, Buck." Chris ducked down, seeing the dark blue eyes darting and caught them. He saw the anxious gaze and wondered if his mask slipped.
"Not here... go... Vin needs help... judge lied... he's in jail... why all here... Chris?"
Fortunately, before Chris could answer, the brief burst of words took all the injured man's energy and his eyes slid shut. Chris walked away and wondered just how he was going to answer those pained eyes, when they started to clear up a little more.
"Cough for me..." Nate ordered, tapping the dozing patient, with his stethscope trained on the laboring chest, "...again..." He nodded, easing Buck back onto the pillows. "You got a mess in there, I'll make a poultice and some tea. Don't even think about sassin' me, Buck... cat piss or not, it's goin' down."
"Nate?" Buck rasped, grabbing the healer's arm. He never realized just how much seeing those soulful brown eyes again would mean to him.
Nate saw so much in the emotive eyes, it brought a genuine warmth from his insides. He smiled and gripped the weak hand. "I missed you too, Buck."
The blue eyes shot open and the body moved so fast, it caused the old caretaker to fall backwards. He hadn't been able to leave the boy's side all day, he was in such bad shape. He regained his balance and knelt by the tangled limbs, now fumbling on the floor.
Vin sucked in a painful burst of air and watched the worn wood grain on the floor spinning wildly. His arms are legs seemed to be displaced from his body. His muddled brain tried to overcome the horrendous nausea and pounding headache, but failed. The sickness won out and the body toppled over. He rolled on his back and watched the ceiling whirling and making strange images. Then a dark-skinned face appeared with bright white hair and every memory came back.
"Shit!" he choked, his clumsy fingers fumbled down his bare chest. "Shit..." he repeated, his eyes wide and anxious as his fingers found only flesh.
"Take it easy, young fella," Isaac leaned over the contorted face and rested a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
"Get away..." Vin hissed, scrambling backwards until he hit a wall. His legs splayed open, his breath came in pants and he swallowed hard. His heart was pounding so hard, it hurt. Sweat poured down his face, brought on by the intense Texas heat in the stifling clinic. His eyes caught sight of the black straps hanging loosely from the table of terror. "Where is he?" Vin growled, swiping the sweat that stung his eyes. He managed to turn sideways, grab the desk next to him and pull himself up. The room swung wildly, but he held on, his eyes glowing a feral blue.
"Yuh calm down, now..." Isaac warned, smart enough not to approach the irate man. "I understand yuh got cause..."
"Ya don't understand shit, Old Man," Vin hissed, trembling in anger. His body was taut with apprehension and anxiety as every memory scorched his brain. The helplessness of being tied down... the rusty knife... the madman's glazed eyes and the awful chemical. "That fuckin' madman tied me down and tried t'carve me up with a knife. He's outta what's left o'his mind." Vin gulped air, as a wave of sickness threatened to spill. "Where is he? I'm gonna kill that son-of-a-bitch..."
"Dr. Burke ain't here," Isaac placated, keeping his voice calm, "It's only Thursday. He don't come back 'til Sunday. Wenesday and Sunday is his visitin' days."
"Doctor!" Vin sneered sarcastically, gulping down precious air, as his legs jerked independently of what he willed them to do. "He's a fuckin' animal," he spat in disgust, still smelling the alchohol fumes, "that damn drunk ain't a doctor. I want t'see the warden, I want... I... shit...." Vin's legs buckled and he landed on his backside on the floor.
"Yuh best take a hand," Isaac offered, "before yuh bust somethin'. Yuh ain't got any legs yet. He's won't be back for three days, Son. Yuh let Isaac help..."
"Why ain't I dead?" Vin rasped, eyes unnaturally wide as dark spots invaded his vision.
"'cause he got sloppy." Isaace saw the color leave the man's face as his temporary flow of energy disapated. He took the chance and moved closer, squatting in front of the angry, heaving bare chest. "He ended up suckin' in some o' that cloafoam and knocked hisself out." He rested a tentative hand on the sweaty shoulder of the prisoner, who flinched and pulled away.
"Where the hell were ya?" Vin hissed, the memory still causing him to shake, "he damn near killed me."
"I'm sorry, Son," Isaac's voice dropped. He remembered all to well the guilt in his gut when he returned from the supply room and found the pair. It wasn't the first time the doctor got careless, and he thought on the bodies buried in the yard outside. The warden covered up because he owed the doctor a favor. Long before alchohol enslaved him, Anthony Burke was a good doctor, one that saved the warden's life. Also, most prison's didn't merit the 'cream of the crop' of the medical field. At best, they were mediocre and unable to find work elsewhere. Who else would take a job that paid next to nothing in a prison? Something should be done, Isaac knew that. But nobody listened to a poor, old Negro. No, he told the inspectors last year, but they dismissed him like a insolent child. "I wuz in the supply room, only gone an hour or so..." he sighed as the blue eyes still raged. "I loaded him in his rig and told the guard to get him home. I had him sign yuh light duty order... before I left to get supplies."
"Light duty?" Vin coughed and turned sideways as dry heaves overtook him. He didn't think he had any sweat left, yet it rained down his face. He felt the old man's firm hand on his shoulder and didn't pull away.
"Yeah," Isaac nodded, "Let me get yuh back in bed and get some soup in yuh. I tell yuh how this place runs. Light duty for a couple more weeks 'til yuh ribs is better. Come on," he urged and saw the eyes flitting to the barred windows and locked door. "Don't think likethat, yuh'd be shot down afore yuh got ten feet. Guards outside and on the wall, the tower and the yard."
Vin sighed and nodded, allowing the other man to help him back to bed. He remained silent until the caretaker reappeared, bearing a tray of soup, and some ginger tea. He sipped the tea and lifted the spoon. He saw the guilt in the Old Timer's eyes and nodded.
"s'okay..." Vin sighed, "So tell me about this hell hole..."
Josiah looked up as Chris slid into a seat at the end of the dining room table in the boarding house. The other guests had eaten earlier and Mary had reserved a ham and trimmings for the hungry men. J.D. slid a full plate over to Chris who nodded, but made not move to pick up a utencil of any sort. He took the whiskey that Ezra offered and poured a double shot into the empty coffee cup before him.
"How is he?" Chris asked, rubbing the weary eyes that were throbbing in his head. J.D. had relieved him at around four o'clock and Mary forced him to the boarding house and a soft bed. He didn't remember hitting the pillow.
"Still sleeping," J.D. muffled over a buttered biscuit. "Mary's givin' him a bath." He paused and saw the problem still written on the weary leader's features. "What are we going to do, Chris? He's knows something's wrong."
"I don't know, J.D." Chris sighed, sipped his whiskey and took a half-hearted stab at the meat on his plate.
"Brother Buck may be more resilient than you think." Josiah rested his arms on the table and furrowed his brows.
"What do you mean, Josiah?" Nathan asked, getting ready to take a plate of food over to Buck.
"I agree that the shock of what happened isn't good for Buck," he frowned, "But how is hearing Vin's dead later going to be easier to bear?"
"'cause his body will be able to handle it," Nate snapped, "He's as weak as a kitten now. You want to take the chance on him feeling responsible for Vin's dyin' with no fight in him? I don't..."
"Hold it!" Chris put both hands up. "You're both right." He sighed and thought for a moment. "First of all, I want proof that Vin's dead. Then, we tell Buck... three or four days might make a difference. Okay?" He watched all the heads nod and resumed his meal.
"The good reverend and I shall endeavor to accomplish that on our inspection."
"Inspection?" Chris muffled, swallowing a mouthful of potatos.
"Yes, as the newly appointed Inspector General on behalf of the Government's investment in the Texas penal system, I will leave no stone unturned."
"Every inch, Ezra..." Chris warned, pointing his fork, "...every Goddamn rock... I want details..."
"Understood," Ezra nodded, "My partner will inquire on the spiritual well being of the workers and the inmates."
"You're gonna snoop around the jail, while Josiah sweet talks the guards?" J.D. translated.
"That boy's hanging around you too much, Ezra," Josiah complained.
"What about Hazzard?" J.D. asked and flinched as the fork Chris was holding landing loudly on his plate. For several seconds, he didn't answer.
"We should wire Orrin," Josiah appraised, "meet with him. Could be he knows this guy or how we can snare him."
"Yeah..." Chris agreed, "Haskill wants him as bad as we do. He'll keep us informed."
"He feels responsible," Nathan said, picking up Buck's plate, "He's a good man, I was talking to him this afternoon. He's taking this hard."
"I'm gonna have a word with him," Chris said, draining his whiskey and nodding to the rest.
As he walked towards the sheriff's office, he paused to watch the beautiful sunset unfold. What had Vin said about them?; something about proof that God exists? He smiled thinking on how the sunset reflected on Vin's face. How the tracker's features softened as he drank in the fading day. He stood and watched, as thecrimson and orange sky changed the colors on his face. He recalled the end of another day in Four Corners painfully. A day where his lightning fast draw sent Vin's last hope of freeing himself right off a rooftop.
"Can't clear m'name if I'm dead..." the raspy voice hovered near.
"No," Chis whispered, feeling a slight breeze stir up. "...but I can, Cowboy," he vowed and sealed it with a nod to the burning sky.
Buck shifted uncomfortably in his sleep. He tried to reach Vin... his legs moved in slow motion, chasing his chained friend.
'Bucklin... Bucklin... Bucklin...' the soft drawl was like a knife in his heart... the blue eyes were all around him. He reached out to grab the chains, but his fingers wouldn't reach.
"Vin! No!" he screamed and lurched, only to be caught and righted. He took the water offered and sighed as a cool towel wiped the wet worry pools away.
He took a deep breath and smiled in the dark, as the mystery nurse was revealed. "...hotel full?"
"How'd you know it wasn't Mary?"
"She smells nice..."
"You saying I stink, Buck?"
"...just stating a fact..."
"You're in no position to be pointing fingers. I've met polecats that smell better."
"...pickin' on an invalid... low down... dirty... cuss..." he grunted, coughed and held on as the pain left him breathless and wheezing. The strong arms never left him and he collapsed, allowing them to lower him back into the soft folds of the bed. "...m'okay... go... bed..." he paused and the thought nagged him again. "Chris... go to jail... in morning... Chris..."
"Ezra and Josiah already got that covered," the exhausted guard said firmly, "You know how Ezra loves a good scam, he's playing a prison inspector. We all can't go charging in there..."
"...word..." Buck smacked the darkness until a hand gripped his.
"Promise," Chris vowed, "Now, shut up and get to sleep."
"...won't..." Buck protested, pushing whatever part of the nurse he could hit, "...go... sleep... self..."
"You got any old girlfriends in these parts? I'd sleep better with a warm body to curl up with."
"...no... kiss and... and... tell..." Buck coughed and finally his eyes slid shut.
"Since when? Buck?... Buck?"
Buck peeled an eye open and saw the weary body disappear across the room. Then he heard a scraping sound as the cot was moved. "...hell you doin'?" he gasped.
"...for somebody on death's door, you got a helluva lot of wind. Get to sleep!"
"...was trying... some inconsiderate bastard... mov...moving... furni...ture..." Buck pushed the words out and used all his strength to peel an eye open. The body was prone and already snoring. The sight gave the mustached man a smile, one that went deep down and settled inside. For as the blond man in rumpled black clothes finally left his weary body rest, Buck Wilmington was again reminded of how lucky he was for the knowing of Chris Larabee.
"Hell, it ain't even light out yet," Vin complained as Isaac's gentle hand shook him awake.
"Yuh ain't got but fifteen minutes or so," the old man stated, "Get yuh feet movin', Jamie, the guard'll be comin'. They get a full day in and it's a good hour to the mine."
Vin shuffled over to the basin and washed his face, before eating the meal the old man prepared. Bendix, like the other state prisons, was under contract to several companies. The state provided the labor and got revenue in return. Depending on the location of the prison, the industry could be the railroad, cotton or wool mills, large farms, mines or quarries. Bendix currently was under lease to the Lucky Rose Mine and the Rio Grande spur of the railroad. It's owners paid the state for the use of the men and they worked a full twelve hour shift, before returning to the prison afterdark. They split up the duties and switched every two weeks. Vin's light duty would end at the same time he'd be put full time inside the mine.
Bendix was a small prison, in comparision to the others in the state. It's ninety-three inmates were all ages, colors and creeds. The warden ruled with an iron hand, as did the guards under him. Vin had seen the attention to detail that the guards in the yard and tower took. By Friday morning, the aftereffects of the chloroform were gone and Vin was able to limp a few steps without falling. He worked on it all day, gradually building his strength up. By Friday night, he was able to dine in the mess with the other inmates. Trudging over, his mind worked overtime trying to figure out if he'd ever deposited a bounty in this area. Most of the bounties he brought in were northeast of here, but as he entered the barren dining hall, his eagle eyes were on alert. From a quick glance, no faces looked familiar. He took his place in line and kept his expression neutral as the stew and roll were placed on his plate. Isaac warned him to not to rile up the guards, no matter what they did.
Isaac told the guards he would have to rewrap Vin's chest and leg, thereby giving him a few extra minutes of sleep. He knew how exhausted the young man would be upon his return that evening. Dexter Mann was one of the Warden Caleb Stewart's right hand men. He'd been with the prison since it's inception in 1848 and was the captain to which all other guards reported. He'd visited the clinic twice and made his own notes regarding the prisoner's health. Vin was deemed fit enough to report to a cell, upon his return on Saturday night. He agreed to two weeks of light duty at the sight where the railroad tracks were being laid down. He'd assigned Vin with four other injured or elderly prisioners, to unload the supplies, set up the mess tent and prepare the midday meal.
Vin was barely finished his breakfast, when Dexter appeared.
"Let's go Quinn," he barked.
"He'll be right out," Isaac stood and the guard retreated. He turned to his young charge and got his gruff up. "Yuh see to it yuh keep yuh mouth shut. I don't wanna see yuh face in here again."
"I won't ferget what ya did, Isaac," Vin shook the old man's hand, "and I ain't fergettin' what that bastard did either," he noted of the would-be-butcher. "I aim t'make him pay..."
"Yuh got enuf keepin' yuh own self in one piece!" Isaac warned crossly, gripping the boy's shoulders. "Yuh keep outta the sun, yuh still got too much color, make sure yuh drink enuf and yuh mind that leg and them ribs..."
"Thanks Old Man," Vin smiled and patted the caretaker's back and shuffled outside. He was shoved ahead and climbed into the back of one of two large wagons. Each wagon held twenty five men and two armed guards. Eight more rode on horseback, on either side of the wagons. A third wagon carried the supplies and food. Vin was dozing when the wagon jerked to a halt and the man next to him elbowed him. He grunted and rubbed his still healing ribs, shuffling off before the guard found reason to inflict any damage. He waited by the supply wagon, eyeing the others trudging in the still dark morning. Torches stood five feet high, providing light until Dawn decided to rouse herself. The prisoners found their tools and with the guards barking and shoving them, they began yet another long day.
Vin eyed the large tent and carried a box of dried meat inside. The guard gave them their orders and Vin noted that the oldest among the five of them, was in charge. His name was Rusty, for the russet hair now streaked with gray. After getting the boxes inside and the large kettle set up, Vin and a young Mexican boy were given the task of peeling two huge bins of potatoes. The other two men were hauling water to the kettle.
"Damn..." Vin sighed, as he took a seat on an overturned peach crate and picked up the potato peeler.
"Si, Senor," the boy agreed, giving Vin a small grin.
Ezra and Josiah left their horses outside a small adobe building. Josiah eyed the main building, a large t-shape mass that held the inmates. His pale blue eyes shifted and took in several smaller buildings, three towers with armed guards and a large stone wall, topped with barbed wire.
"Don't imagine they get many jailbreaks," he noted as Ezra approached the guard out front.
"Good Morning," Ezra smoothed, "I'm Martin LaPointe and this is the Reverend Daniel Banner. Would it be possible to see the warden?"
"What for?" the guard asked, spitting a large wad of tobacco.
"Charming habit," Ezra muttered, moving his polished boot just in time, "I'm from the Federal Government. I have been tasked to inspect this facility and introduce my findings to a Congressional panel for future funding purposes. My compatriot is a minister of spiritual needs. He is to ascertain that the workers and residents are provided with enlightened guidance."
"Hold on," the surly guard replied and got up. Several minutes later, a tall, lean man with coal black hair and a pencil thin mustached appeared. His standing and posturing bespoke a military background.
"I didn't get any paperwork," he issued, keeping his hands behind his back, "I usually get advance notice."
"Thereby dismissing the notion of how the facility is truly run. What is the point of an inspection, if one has time to cover up their shortcomings?" Ezra squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Might I recommend we continue this discussion inside, with a beverage of choice?"
"My apologies," the warden stepped aside, "Gentlemen," he waved his hand, "How is Superintendent Griscom?"
"I wouldn't know," Ezra drilled without blinking, "I've never heard of him. As I am sure you are aware, James Rusk is the Superintendent of the Texas State Penitentiaries. Of the three field directors that work under him, my jurisdiction is within this territory. My report will be forwarded to..."
"That will be satisfactory," the warden interrupted, "You passed, I'm sure you have credentials?" He waited while the smartly dressed young man produced a thin leather wallet. He took the paper that was handed to him and scanned it. "Yeah... your legit..." he handed back the document and walked over to a table. "Whiskey, Scotch, Wine..."
"Not while we're on duty," Ezra denied, "Thank you, lemonade will suffice."
A half-hour later, the pair split up. It was just after the warden went over the rules and regulations and showed them a map of the buidings on the property. Each was assigned a guard to escort him, and they'd meet back at the warden's house at one p.m. for lunch. With a nod and tip of his hat, Ezra headed for the prison, while Josiah headed for the infirmary.
"Nobody's here..." Josiah said, as the guard unlocked the door.
"The Doc only comes out twice week, in the middle and on Sunday. Isaac's the guy who runs this place. The old man does a good job, considering what he has to work with. He's in town getting supplies."
Josiah walked around the clean clinic and eyed the empty cots. "Strange that a prison this big wouldn't have any sick bodies in here..."
"Had a couple earlier this week, one died," he chuckled, "hell, he hardly had time to take up room on the cot."
"That right?" Josiah kept his face even as they left. "Fight in the prison?" he fished.
"Nah... come in with a fever... barely alive... don't know why they toted him from Langston..." he muttered, "Shame you came out here during the day, all the prisoners are out on farms."
"Farms?" Josiah paused, eyeing the rows of rough-hewn crosses.
"Yeah, work details... every prison is leased out... we split between the Lucky Rose Mine and the new railroad line. They'll be back after dark..."
"Is that where he's buried," Josiah's tone was somber as his eyes scanned theuneven lettering on the crosses.
"Who?
"The prisoner who died..."
"Oh... yeah... Tanner..."
Josiah was in back of the guard, who didn't see the large man flinch and grip the cross on his neck.
"You know anything about him?" Josiah asked as the guard stopped in front of the new grave. The preacher's blue eyes took in the eight letters and his heart ached. Eight letters... did that sum up a man's worth? In the short time he'd known the Texan, he'd only begun to appreciate what a deep soul Vin Tanner was.
"Why you askin'?" the guard's voice was suspicious.
"I'd like to say a prayer over the grave. Be a little easier if I knew who I was speaking about."
"I saw him... I was in that tower when they brung him in." He pointed to the tower twenty feet away.
"Anything you remember would help... Young or old..."
"Young kid... long hair... lean... face was all red..." he shrugged, "Isaac was busy, so they called me and Ray," he nodded to the man in the tower, "to wrap him up and put him in the hole. Isaac got upset and finished covering him up. He prayed over the kid too. Creepy, you know..." the guard flinched.
"How's that," Josiah whispered, trying hard to keep his mask in place.
"His eyes were open... big and blue as the summer sky... gave me a chill..." He recalled and saw the gray-haired preacher drop his head. "I'll be by the tower when you're ready.
Josiah blew a long breath and knelt down. He gripped the crude cross over Vin's grave with one hand and the one around his neck with the other "Goodbye Old Friend, I'll miss you." His voice clenched and he bowed his head. "The Lord is my shepherd..."
Ezra was just exiting the supply building and heading for the main entrance of the prison, when he saw Josiah in the distance. The fact he was kneeling in front of a cross, disheartened him a bit. To get the wire with words on paper was one thing. But being in the company of Vin Tanner's final resting place, was something else.
"Might I suggest we finish with the outer buildings?" Ezra noted of the clinic, which was next to Josiah. "Then we can proceed to the prison." He flipped a page over on the ledger he carried and began to write.
"Sure... don't make no nevermind to me..." the guard replied and walked ahead.
Ezra paused as he came abreast of Josiah. The man-of-the-cloth was only five feet to his left. He knew before the head rose, he could tell by the catch in the somber man's voice as he concluded the 23rd Psalm. Josiah's head rose and their eyes locked. Is was then Ezra saw the crooked lettering, spelling out Vin's name. He asked the question with his pale green eyes wide and numb; the answer came from pale blues ones that disappeared into a clench as the head dipped once, hitting the broad Sanchez chest. Ezra didn't realize he'd gasped aloud, until the guard turned back.
"You okay?"
"My apologies," he recovered, "I seemed to have something caught in my throat."
Josiah stood and moved past Ezra, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. Ezra took a deep breath, got his feelings under control and proceeded into the clinic. He didn't even know the words he wrote or the dull voice of the guard. He only saw the sharpshooter's mischievous smile and those damned blue eyes.
Despite the exhaustion from the long day in the intense heat, Vin couldn't sleep. He was sitting sideways on the bunk in the small cell that was his new home. It was about six feet by four feet with a bunk, blanket and bucket. Vin peeled off his shirt, which was sweat-laden and clinging to him like an unwelcomed second skin. He eased back against the stone wall and watched a mouse scurrying across the floor. The small brown creature disappeared through the bars and to freedom.
Oh that it should be that easy. Although the faces he'd studied at lunch, while dishing out the grub were unfamiliar, he'd seen some in the dining hall at dinner that were. One he was certain he dumped off in Amarillo and two more that he was sure were from a couple years ago, were bank robbers. He sighed and ran a weary hand through his tangled hair. He regarded the mouse again and wondered how to get a message to his friends. He saw some of the prisoner's writing at lunch. Miguel, the kid with a busted leg who he was paired with, said they take the prisoner's mail to town once every two weeks.
"How the hell can this get any worse?" he sighed, his eyes catching a sliver of silver moon through the tiny slit in the wall. He couldn't write... so the letter wasn't any help... or was it? He furrowed his brow and nodded. Pictures were as good as words... maybe he could get Isaac to address it. Granted it took a couple weeks for mail to get delivered into the next territory, but as long as the judge didn't sentence him to hang, there was hope. He curled up on the bunk and flicked a large water bug that skittered from the waist of his pants. His heavy eyes caught the silvery moon and he wondered how Buck was doing. The mustached marshal's face was the last image he had, as he drifted off to sleep.
Buck watched the door close and sighed in contentment. Having so many people to care for you was a blessing and a curse. Sometimes, a man just wanted to be alone. Eddie moved him to the cot across the room, so they could clean the mattress of the one he'd been parked on all week. Mary had asked Chris to do it in the morning, but Buck was so uncomfortable, that the deputy did it ahead of time.
Buck eyed the saloon across the street, the torch lights gave the area a golden glow. He closed his eyes as a small breeze blew in and he took a deep breath. He was propped up on a bank of pillows and feeling stronger each day. He used both hands to lift the mug of apple cider and took a long sip. His eyes caught the remnants of the dinner he'd eaten, roast beef, potatos, corn and peach pie. He'd finished every bit and two cups of coffee as well. Now it felt a bit sour, as the thought of the tiny cell his friend was occupying somewhere in the distance, entered his brain. Getting well as quickly as possible was his new goal. His motivation had Nathan smiling and Mary finally not wrought with worry. The sooner he was on his feet, the sooner he could find that bastard who set up Vin Tanner. His face darkened every time he thought of Spencer Hazzard. He'd driven Chris right out of the room yesterday, harping on the lack of a wire from Ezra and Josiah. J.D. kept saying no news is good news... but Buck wondered. Something still nagged at his insides and he was afraid to study it too closely.
Despite the animated conversation that J.D. and Nathan provided, he knew his oldest friend too well. Chris had been a wall of support, helping him with his physical and emotional healing. The leg cramps that came in the night, were silenced by two hands that kneaded out the knots. The same hands helped him dress and steadied him as he stood up for the first time. But Chris couldn't hide from him and despite his dry comments and barbs, Buck knew he was in pain. The whinny of a horse and the clamor of hooves drew his heavy eyes open. He sat up with a start when he saw Ezra's red coat. He watched the two weary men from behind, only able to see their backs. He could see Nathan clearly, but J.D was obscured. Chris wasn't there... or at least not in plain sight.
"Well?" Chris asked, stirring from the shadows to where he'd disappeared to after dinner.
He came close enough for the torch's to send a garish cast on the features of the riders. Their silence was deafening. He closed his eyes and gripped the hitching post hard. He felt a large hand on his shoulder and stared at Josiah's somber face.
"You made sure?" the leader's voice had a small tinge of hope left.
"I'm sorry, Chris," Josiah replied, "I spoke with the guard who buried him. He described Vin to the letter. He never woke up... didn't suffer... he slept away."
"Is that supposed to be a fuckin' consolation prize?" Chris snapped, jerking free.
The others watched as a myriad of emotions played on Chris Larabee's face. Finally the heaving chest paused and the head rose.
"What now?" Nathan asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"Tonight we say goodbye to Vin..." Chris sighed deeply. He ran his hand through his damp blond hair and rubbed his throbbing eyes. Then he pulled his head up and looked at the horizon, green eyes glowing. "...and tomorrow we plan Armegeddon... that bastard's gonna pay." He curled his lip up in disgust, "he fucked with wrong cowboy."
"Saloon?" Josiah nodded his head.
"You go ahead," Chris's andrenalin dropped and he suddenly felt very tired. The weariness that only comes from vanquished hope. "Ezra, rattle the clown behind the bar and get something I'm gonna regret in the morning."
"Not to worry," Ezra produced an expensive bottle from his saddle bag.
"Where the hell did you get that?" Josiah astonished, eyeing the label.
"Kentucky Sipping Whiskey?"
"The good warden was only too generous in his concern for the long ride back to the capitol." Ezra's gold tooth glinted and gave the group some sad smiles.
"One for Vin, huh?" Chris smiled sadly, thinking on how the tracker got such a kick out of Ezra.
"Yer a weasel, Ez..." J.D. mimicked the sharpshooter perfectly and ducked as Ezra clapped him with his hat. The others disappeared into the saloon and Chris eyed the deserted street. He spotted the small line of barrels by the clinic and ambled over. He sat down and pulled the beat up silver harmonica from his breast pocket. He caressed it gently, smiling as he recalled the woeful notes Vin produced and the sly grin that went with them.
"Vin..." he hushed, stroking the metal. He spent several minutes thinking of all the things in his life that changed with the Texan's arrival. Although he'd grieve and a part of him would always be empty, he felt a peace inside. The dull pain of the loss of Tanner would always be with him, but so would something else. Something warm and good, clean and true. An intangible ingredient that filled his soul and made him whole. The anger, hostility and unbridled rage that accompanied his other losses, friends during the war and his wife and child, was gone. That was it... that was Vin's eternal gift. He didn't know the word for it... and struggled hard to find the right one. Suddenly it was as clear as the summer sky and he nodded. He cast his face to the starfield above and smiled.
"Thanks, Cowboy..." he murmured and put the harmonica to his lips.
Buck was dozing as the song floated through the window. He breathed in the sad familiar melody and it haunting tone caused him to shiver and waken. For several minutes he didn't dare move, afraid the stirring song would end. He sat up and looked outside, just as melody ended too abruptly, as if chopped in half by an angry blade. He jerked at the raw action and then he saw it. Triple hints of silver against the dark, brooding night. The glint of Vin Tanner's beloved harmonica reflected in the moonlight, along with the shimmering eyes of Chris Larabee. His head moved and he noticed that the others were gone. Chris thought he was alone... but Buck saw the brief flicker of pure agony as the blond's face wrinkled up and he rocked, pressing the harmonica to his chest. Then with one audible gasp, he straightened up and stood. His eyes struck the window... and sent a shock wave through Buck Wilmington.
Chris took one look at Buck's face and moved his lips, but no words would come. The intent hovered and pressed, but Chris didn't force any false verbs. For a frozen moment in time, they shared the numbing pain, then Buck turned away and Chris went through the door.
"Did you guys hear that?" J.D. asked, tapping his empty glass.
"...a harmonica..." Ezra's voice was distant and he eyed the dark profile, barely visible, across the street.
"Not just any harmonica," Nathan added, standing and taking his empty glass.
"No," Josiah agreed, rising and clapping Ezra's shoulder, "Brother Vin's."
"Gentlemen..." Ezra rose and took the bottle, as they watched Chris enter the clinic.
"Vin never made it sound that good," J.D. whispered, "That song always makes me sad..."
"Mournful..." Nathan agreed, shivered at the memory of the lingering, moving notes.
Chris found Buck on the floor, sitting with his back against an orange crate. Without a word, he slipped down and sat next him. A single tear had already run haphazard down the pale face and hung unsteadily from the handsome man's jaw. For several seconds, neither said a word, then Buck turned to him and held out his hand.
"I'd like to finish it," he rasped, taking a shuddering breath.
Chris nodded and handed over the silver mouth organ. Buck took another breath and lifted it to his lips, but no notes would come. Chris saw how hard he was struggling and leaned over.
"Hell, Buck," he teased, "even Vin could make sorry-assed sounds come out of that thing. You gonna let Tanner show you up?"
"Hell..." Buck gasped and took another shuddering breath... "Hell no..." he coughed. He raised the musical instrument then paused and turned to Chris.
"Did they hang him, Chris?"
Chris winced visibly at the agony hanging on every Wilmington word. He rested his hand on the slumped shoulder and gave a small squeeze. Buck, like the others, knew Vin dispised the notion of being strung up. "No," he whispered, "...he went to sleep and never woke up..." he barely managed to finish.
"That boy did love his naps..." Buck teased as his eyes filled up again. He raised them towards the window and bit his lip. "This is for you, Vin... from Bu... Buc..." he took a deep breath, "from Bucklin... Thanks, Slick..."
Chris jerked at the catch in the word that had meant so much to Buck and in the end, had become his salvation. Vin's last gift to Buck, his deliverance back to the fold. Then he watched Buck close the moist blue eyes and lift the harmonica. The final refrain was sweet and moved the blond deeply. He heard footsteps and noticed the others enter and take a place on the floor. The circle they formed was nearly complete. As the final moving note of Amazing Grace ended, Buck laid the harmonica next to him, in the spot where Vin should be... would always be... completing the seven.
"A befitting testimonial," Ezra noted of the Larabee song, "To Mr. Tanner..." he broke the seal and took a swig, then passed the bottle to Buck.
"Tonight I mourn a good friend... and I'm proud..." the injured man paused and gulped air, then took a long draw from the bottle. "Tomorrow, I'll carry on his name and see justice done."
"Amen!" Josiah said, taking the bottle and tapping the harmonica.
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