Setting: OW
Caleb Miller eyed Boney Tyler's hands. His partner had been quietly working his left hand free. Miller eyed his own bonds and frowned. Larabee had tied his hands too well. But Boney could slip out of any hold, and with a grin, he saw the hand pop free. Caleb turned a careful eye to the large gunslinger riding several paces back. The mustached man pointed a gun at him and motioned for him to turn back around.
"Just as easy for me to take you in dead, Miller."
Caleb muffled a response under his gag. He shifted his gaze to the blond who'd turned around and glared openly at him. His threat was more deadly and Miller averted his gaze. Finally, he saw a bend coming. Boney's eyes drifted ever so slightly to the left. Miller nodded, but before they could act, a pair of gunshots rang out from the canyon ahead.
"Chris?" Buck called ahead. As the blond turned, Boney made his move. He propelled himself sideways and rolled down the hill.
"I got him!" Buck called, vaulting from the horse and sliding down the hill. Chris slid off Caesar and drew his colt, training it on Miller.
"You so much as blink and I'll blow you away." He warned, keeping his eye on the prisoner and walking backwards to the hill "Buck? Buck you got him?" There was no answer and Chris frowned. He glanced down the hill and saw Buck and the other prisoner trading blows.
Miller saw the blond turn and threw himself off the horse. He heard the heavy boots approaching and kept his eyes closed. He felt his head jerked backward by the hair and the cold steel eye of the gun pressed against his head. He waited until he felt Larabee's weight on his back and turned, taking the blond with him. He clubbed him hard in the wrist, sending the gun skittering a few feet away. They rolled under the horse; it's deadly hooves pounding the dirt around them. He rolled onto Larabee's back and pulled his bound hands around the other man's throat.
Chris felt the ropes tightening and his breath choked off. He grunted and slid his hand to his belt and drew out his knife. With one fluid motion, he sent his arm powerfully up and left, driving deep into Miller's throat. He pushed backwards, as the last, futile gurgle came from the surprised dark eyes. He sat up on his haunches, rubbing his throat when a shot rang out.
"Buck!" He coughed and ran for the hilltop. He heart was hammering until he saw a weary grin, amidst a trickle of blood running from the rogue's mouth. "You okay?"
"Yeah... you?" Buck replied and saw the head dip. "He's dead," He jerked of the lifeless body next to him. Swiping the blood from his lip, he turned and grabbed the back of the corpse's collar, dragging it up the short hill with him. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Chris tying the other lifeless body over the saddle. He saw the green eyes darting to the canyon ahead. "You think we got company waitin' on us?"
"Dunno..." Chris said, walking over and approached Buck with a bottle of whiskey. "But I aim to find out." He declared, taking a swig and handing over the bottle.
"Sure is pretty..." Vin whispered, eyeing the brilliant blue sky. He'd been studying the cloud patterns for time, seeing animals, faces and other shapes in their white, puffy folds. He tried to move, but the added weight of the mud made it impossible. He sighed in frustration and began to roll over. His glazed eyes spotted the familiar bottle and he crept painfully towards it. His laborious effort was rewarded by a coughing fit. Gasping for air, he took a liberal swig of his medicine. After several long minutes, he managed to get up on his knees and flung an arm wildly as the road flew around him. He looked down at his mud-encrusted clothing. He heard the river rushing by somewhere close and decided to stand up.
"Shit!" he hissed, staggering a few steps and collapsing. God he was dizzy. The trees and rocks were flying by at a record rate. He crawled over to the hill and saw the sun glinting of the water.
"Gotta get cleaned up," he grunted, sliding down on his backside.
A half-hour later they slowed the pace of their horses up. Buck was in the lead and turned to face Chris, his face screwed up and his dark head cocked to one side. Chris took his dark hat off and wiped the sweat from his brow. He watched Buck's eyes narrow and the frown forming. The tall man urged his gray steed forward and cocked his head again.
"What is the hell is that?" he grimaced of the sour sounds emanating from the glen beyond and below.
"I don't know." Chris winced as the painful noise clashed with his head. "But I aim to put it out of its misery. Come on."
Just as they rounded the next curve, they saw Tanner's black horse.
"Hey Chris," Buck turned and saw the blond nod.
"Yeah," he noted of Diablo as he slid off his horse, gun drawn. "Slow and easy, Buck."
The two tied up their mounts and cautiously approached the clearing. When Buck spotted Vin's hide coat and picked up the empty holster, his stomach clenched. Chris eyed the quiet clearing and squatted over the dead man.
"One less murderin' bastard..." the blond commented, eyeing the familiar face.
"You know him?" Buck asked, standing at Chris's shoulder.
"Davey Miller... was in the paper last week. He was being held in Eagle's Bend for transport. He killed a bank clerk in Texas."
"Caleb's brother." Buck sighed. "Bad luck runs in some families," he noted the single shot, dead center of the bloody chest. "Vin's mark..."
"Yeah." Chris noted of the sharpshooter. "There were two shots..." He eyed Buck, his gaze hooded with fear. "Where is he?"
"You go high, I'll go low," the rogue replied, heading for the hill. "Damn!" he grimaced as the sour sounding, warbling began again. His shrill whistle brought Chris over in a flash.
Chris caught Buck's high-pitched signal at the same time he was assaulted by the off-key, loud voice. He heard Buck's booming laughter and watched his oldest friend double over, almost in pain. By the time he reached Wilmington's side, the other man was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
"Oh, beat the drum slowly, and play the fieshh...
fi..fife lowly
And play the dead" he hiccuped and giggled, "dead... march as ya
carry me 'long
Take me to the green valley and lay the earth o'er me
Fer I'm a poor cowboy and I know I've done wrong"
Buck couldn't breathe. Every ounce of oxygen was cruelly stolen from his pained lungs. Between the sight several yards away at the base of the river and the one beside him, all his reserve was gone. The giddy effect from the lack of air had him reeling, as did the sheer look of shock on Chris Larabee's face and the bulging green eyes. Gasping for breath, Buck finally straightened up and laid a hand on the leader's tense shoulder.
"Best you get the boy's coat, Chris," Buck gasped, trying to keep his voice from breaking into laughter again. "He's gonna get a wicked sunburn...."
Chris heard Buck's suggestion, and saw the tall man's shoulders quaking in mirth as he began his descent. His mouth dropped open and his jaws moved, but no words would come out. As another offkey chorus of 'The Streets of Laredo' began, he could only gaze in muted silence at the proud singer. His best friend was warbling sorrowfully, sitting on a rock in the sun, and wearing only his boots.
Nathan Jackson was tired. Lord, but he was exhausted. It was the kind of weariness that goes right through your bones. He slid off his horse and handed him over to Andy, the boy who worked in the livery. The only thing on his mind was one gutwarmer in the Saloon, a good dinner and a soft bed. He trudged to the tavern and looked inside. Empty. That gave him a deep frown. This time of day would find several of the peacekeepers huddled around their favorite table. Something was wrong. His head swiveled towards the clinic and his heart dropped.
"Shit..." he raced across the street and heard his name being called. He turned and saw Mary waving at him from her office. He spun quickly and made his way inside. "Which one? How bad is it? Why didn't somebody come and get me?"
"Hold on, Nate." Mary grabbed the worn brown jacket sleeve. "They're all fine. At least I hope they are. Buck and Chris left early to take those prisoners south. Josiah went to see Kojay. J.D.'s on patrol and Ezra... well I'm not sure where he is, but I'm sure he's alright."
"Buck? Wasn't Chris taking Vin with him? Where's Vin?"
"Vin was sick and Chris banished him to the clinic." She saw the concern on the dark-skinned face and reassured him. "No fever, just lots of coughing... some kind of lung infection. But he was in no condition to be out in the sun all day. He slept most of the morning, and after your visitor left... Vin did too."
"Visitor," Nate frowned, "What friend?"
"A doctor... Richardson. Howard Richardson." She paused and saw the blank look, "About fifty, graying hair, very distinguished, well dressed and well spoken."
"He was waitin' on me?," he shook his head. "I don't know anybody like that." He saw Mary cast her eyes away. "What?"
"He gave Vin medicine."
"What kind of medicine?" Nate's brows furrowed, "Vin took somethin' from a stranger? He's too smart for that."
"He seemed legitimate, Nathan. He fooled me. I think he stopped at Mrs. Potter's, then left on the stage."
"Where'd Vin go?"
"I checked on him later this afternoon and he was gone. Danny said a wire came from Eagle's Bend. Caleb Miller's brother was being transported to Texas in a prison wagon and broke out, killed the guard. The sheriff thinks he was headed this way to get his brother."
"Vin went after Buck and Chris." Nate nodded. "I'll get a fresh horse and get after him. Gonna be hard to track... he's got a good lead."
"You'll do no such thing!" she admonished. "It's nearly sundown, you haven't slept in two days and you're exhausted. J.D. should be back soon and Ezra. Josiah by morning."
"Still... One of them could be hurt..."
"The sheriff said a posse went after Miller. Maybe they caught him. Come on, you can help Billy and me with a large chicken pie I made."
The sorrowful singer continued his tale of woe, as the greedy horizon eyed up the orange orb dangling above her lips. Vin kept his eyes closed, letting the sun bask him. The warmth felt good and he pursued his song with fervor.
"I see by yer outfit that y'are a cowboy
These words he did say as I proudly stepped by."
Vin sputtered, coughed and took another belt of his magic juice.
"Come sit down beside me and hear m'sad story
I'm shot in the breast and I know I must die"
"Twas once in the saddle I used to go ridin'..."
Vin jerked his eyes open as a sharp rain of gravel sounded. He squinted his bleary blues upwards and saw four more gang members approaching.
"Shit!" he swore and toppled off his perch. He landed in the dirt and lay there a moment, his head swirling and hisstomach throwing a hissy fit. "Oh God..." he grabbed his abdomen and curled up. Suddenly, there were brown boots in front of him and two strong arms pulling him up.
"Ya hold it right there... or I'll shoot ya..." Vin warned weakly, slapping his bare hip. "Aw, hell, where's m'gun? Don't move... ya no account bassh... herd."
"Looks like you're empty, Pard." Buck chuckled, pulling the naked crooner to his feet. "Whoa there," he steadied the staggering figure.
Vin squinted his eyes and saw a blurry mustache, dark hair and then heard the voice. "Buck... get down... they're all around us." He warned, wobbling and trying to protect the larger man.
The rogue laughed at Vin's proud, but defenseless stance. "What happened to your clothes, Vin?" he inquired, not able to keep a large smile off his face. His grip on the tracker's shoulders was the only thing keeping the inebriated man upright.
"I... they... Shit... " Vin spun around, glancing dizzily at the area around him. "Them varmits musta took 'em whilst I was in the water. They's a real sneaky bunch. Buck... Buck... Where the hell did ya go?" Vin hiccuped, blinking at the spinning trees.
"You better sit back down, Slick." Buck chuckled and eased the confused raider onto the rock. "Better?" he asked, watching with great humor as the two blues eyes widened and narrowed, trying to focus.
"Quit movin' around," Vin growled, "Get down 'fore they shoot ya. I got two of 'em... the other one... I think... he... damnedest thing,.." He gripped Buck's arm, "Can't ya get this t'stop movin'? It's makin' m'stomach twirl."
"Oh I wouldn't worry about your stomach, Son." Buck sympathized, knowing the long hours ahead. "It won't be full much longer."
"They's all dressed alike, Buck... had me confused but good. Thought I got 'em all... then I seen 'em." He coughed and kept a death grip on Buck's arm with one hand, while waving the other one wildly, nearly toppling over."... a real mean, ugly pair... an orny couple of cuss's... dressed like the devil hisself..." He narrowed his eyes and screwed his face up in revulsion. "It ain't funny," Vin crowed, hearing the booming laughter.
"Don't look at me," Buck gasped, wiping his eyes as the storm cloud named Larabee moved in, "I'm not an ugly, onry cuss... reckon that'd be you."
"Vin!" Chris barked, eyeing his inebriated friend wipe spittle from his mouth, "What the hell happened to you? Where's your clothes? What are you doing here?"
"I come after ya to get him afore he got ya... but they's three of 'em that's afore them other ones snuck in and then they's the ones what stole m'clothes... lessen they doubled up and they's with the other ones."
"What?" Chris blinked in confusion, "Who?" He growled.
"His brother," Vin answered, sloppily, sending saliva down his chin.
"Dammit!" Chris rubbed his neck and glared "Miller's brothers? More than one? Who did you shoot?"
"One of them first ones... mebbe two... can't be sure. They's a sneaky outfit... the first ones... the other's is just ugly... they must be the ones..."
"Enough!" Chris ranted, pushing both hands in front of him in frustration. "Vin, there's a body up there..."
"His brother... he come 'fore the others." Vin hissed, swaying sideways. "Can't ya remember nothin'? I told ya already."
"Oh my God!" Chris seethed in exasperation, fisting both hands. "Vin, was Davey Miller the only one you shot?"
"Maybe... they's all dressed alike. Musta been a twin and half," Vin decided and scowled when Buck dropped to his knees, laughing hysterically and gasping for breath.
"You're a big help." Chris smacked Buck.
"Aw, hell, Chris, I can't help it," Buck defended weakly, wiping his wet face. "Even Ezra couldn't wade through that mess," he said of the tracker's explanation. "A twin and half... now that's funny."
"Why were you riding alone?" Chris demanded. "What happened to your clothes? Dammit Vin, answer me!"
Vin Tanner narrowed his eyes and sucked air in noisily through his open mouth. He hiccuped twice and stared hard at the angry face looming before him. "Hey, Chris," he clutched Buck's arm in a stonghold, as the world begin spinning. He squinted and pointed at the leader's face. "Ya know yer face gets red and yer eyes bug out when ya get t'hollerin?"
"You're drunk!" The blond screamed, eyeing the snickering Wilmington with a green glare.
Vin opened his mouth to reply and coughed soundly, he reached for his bottle only to have it snatched away. The force of his expulsion sent him flying backwards off his perch. He blinked as not one, not two, but three angry Larabee faces were bending over him.
"Hell, ya could haunt a howsh with a face like that," he coughed, and heard Buck's booming laughter again.
"Jesus, Vin." Chris backed up as the alcohol-laced breath assaulted him. "How much of this shit did you drink? I can't believe you got drunk."
"Ain't not neither no how never..." Vin wheezed, stomach churning. "yer hurtin' m'arm..." He wailed, trying to pry free of the black-gloved iron grip.
"That's the least of your problems. Come on, get up," Chris ordered.
Buck grabbed one arm and Chris the other and the sat him back on his rock. Chris managed to put the coat on him, after a great deal of difficulty navigated the wayward arms. Buck picked up the half empty bottle and uncorked it.
"Jesus..." He pulled his face back, eyes burning. "This shit's gotta be right out of a still. No wonder he's drunk."
"Vin, how much of this did you drink?" Chris demanded.
"Just this one and that one," Vin whispered, pulling out the empty bottle. "They's helpin' m'cough..."
"I bet they are." Buck chuckled.
"A bottle and half." Chris closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"He's gonna be sick as a dog, Chris," Buck said quietly, eyeing the wavering body. "We better make camp, he's in no shape to ride. We'll go to Salerno in the morning."
"Fuck!" Chris swore, smashing the bottle.
"No!" Vin yelped, launching himself at the irate Larabee. He would have fallen if Chris didn't catch him. "Ya busted it... it was all the medicine I had left."
"Medicine!" Chris roared, his patience snapping. That Vin could careless in town and get drunk was one thing. But riding out and facing a cold-blooded killer in this condition was beyond careless. "It's not medicine, Vin. It's liquor. You could have been killed. Jesus, couldn't you smell it? Look at this label." He scanned the flimflam man's prop, which boasted a miracle cure. "Throw away your pills, it'll cure all ills... Rocky Mountain Miracle Remedy..." He gripped the bottle and shoved it at the stunned, wide blue eyes. "How could you be so fucking stupid?"
The change in the air was instantaneous. Buck moved in and tried to pry Chris's vise-like grip from the startled younger man. He winced at the deep-seeded pain in the luminous blue eyes. Then the tracker's chin wavered and the eyes began to fill. He sensed something so painful and deep in those emotive pools, that it hurt his own chest.
"Chris, back off," he suggested quietly, only to have the angry eyes wheel and face him.
"Not this time, Buck. He could have been killed. Hell, he could have gotten us killed." He turned back to the now silent sharpshooter, who was fighting hard to stay in control. "Goddammit, answer me!"
Vin felt like he'd been gutshot. A hot pain coursed through him, ripping his insides to shreds. How could Chris know how much those words cut him? How deep that knife-like pain went. Stupid... stupid... How many times did Lucas say that? Suddenly the pain turned into anger and he rebelled, shoving the blond hard and gripping his collar. "Don't ya ever say that t'me again," he warned with steely blue eyes.
"I want an answer." Chris stated, drilling the pain-filled eyes.
"The doctor give it t'me. He's a friend of Nate's. It was fer m'cough," he rasped and turned away as his anger turned to shame. He'd been used again. It never got any easier. That horrible deep pain when you realized you'd been had. All his life, they'd hurt him. But he thought Chris was different. Now Chris thought he was stupid too. The pain coursed through him like razors slashing his stomach. His eyes widened and he doubled over, grabbing his midsection. Chris moved with lightning speed, forcing the smaller man to the overgrowth and onto his knees. He held onto Vin as he retched and coughed. Buck appeared with a canteen and a Vin's damp undershirt.
"I'll start a fire and scare up some grub." Buck departed without a backward glance.
Chris winced with every painful pitch of the dry heaves. Finally the lurching motions stopped and Vin slumped against his chest, exhausted. Chris used the damp shirt to wipe the wheezing face, chin and neck. Vin didn't move for several minutes and Chris prompted him.
"Here, rinse a few times," he coached, handing Vin the canteen. Vin obeyed wordlessly and then took a long drink. "You cold?" he asked and got a nod. The sun was setting and the air temperature dropping. He got Vin onto his feet and the younger man's knees buckled. "I gotcha..." He tried to pull Vin's arm around his neck, but was rebelled.
"Even a stupid bastard like me can find the fire."
Chris froze, not so much at the words themselves, but at the caustic delivery. The icy eyes didn't fool the older man. He'd hurt Vin deeply. He replayed the past few moments and Vin's painful testimony.
"How could you be so fucking stupid?" he heard himself bellow.
"Fuck." Chris eyed the shivering body huddled by the fire and winced. The large blue eyes were moist and Chris didn't miss the tears welling. He hunched over the creek, rinsed and filled the canteen. He dropped the canteen by Vin's leg and went topside. He brought down all the bedrolls, as well as the saddlebags. Buck was in the clearing, skinning and gutting some rabbits. He exchanged a glance with the silent, dark-haired man and saw the concern. He nodded and slid by Vin.
"Vin, where are the rest of your clothes?"
"Wet," was the barely audible response. "Muddy... cleaned 'em."
"Okay, you can use these." He offered over Vin's red shirt and a pair of his own black pants. "Come on, I'll help you," he touched the huddled, hide-coated shoulder.
"Go t'hell," Vin whispered, jerking away. He grabbed the shirt and clutched it harshly. He managed to get his coat off and the shirt on, and shoved the helping hand away. He swiped his damp eyes and cursed the wall of emotion that was threatening to open. He took several deep breaths and watched the fire dancing before him. He was fool... and they knew it. None of the others would have been so stupid. He shivered and saw Buck approaching.
"Here, let me give you a hand, Slick," Buck said gently, fixing the misbuttoned shirt and sliding the coat on. "There you go."
The flames snapped and crackled, hypnotizing the Texan. Echoes of Chris's words melded with Lucas's cruel taunts. He was taken back in time, to a cold winter night on a Texas prairie. He saw Lucas's face and heard the evil voice. He saw the leering faces behind the cruel taunter, they were laughing and pointing.
"Yer a no-good bastard Tanner. Yer a stupid little fucker... stupid fucker... stu..." he said in a daze, letting a pair of wayward tears run rampant on his flushed cheeks.
"Stop it!" Chris screamed, grabbing the shoulders and shaking them hard. "I didn't mean it like that. I was worried... Look at me Vin, please." He waited but the head shook negative and dropped lower. He sighed in frustration and rubbed the back of Vin's neck. "Why Vin? You had to know it wasn't medicine? The label..."
"Hell, can't smell nothin' with this cold." Vin sighed and hiccuped. "He said it was... would help m'cough... was good medicine... I... believed..." he bit off the rest and wiped his eyes. "I can't... ya were right... only stupid bastard's like me who can'tread..." he choked, dropping his head in shame. He felt the heat rise and the tears welling, but denied them.
There it was. Buck had just secured both plump rabbits over the flames and heard the painful testimony. He gripped both of Vin's shoulders from behind and squeezed them hard.
"You listen to me Vin Tanner. Being able to read has nothing to do with how
smart a man is. That comes from here." He tapped the aching chest over the shirt. "I've traveled the length of this country, Son. From Philadelphia, through Virginia and the Carolinas, over the Smokey's and through the bluegrass into the west." Buck paused as the head came up slightly, but the moist eyes wouldn't meet his. "I've met a lot of men Vin, some from colleges, statesmen, gamblers, soldiers... I even shook Abe Lincoln's hand." He paused and knelt down, tipping the face upwards, "Look at me, Vin. These past six months, since we've been ridin' together, I've learned more from you than all them high-falutin' polished pretenders put together. You're the smartest man I've ever known. What you have here." He tapped Vin's head "and here." He tapped the rapid beating heart. "make me proud to call you friend." He embraced the smaller man briefly, before turning away. The shaking hand held on just a minute longer. He looked down and saw the emotion shining through the wet blue eyes.
"Thanks, Bucklin..."
It was barely audible, but gave the great heart a mighty swell. He patted Vin's back and returned to start a pot of coffee. While Buck went to the river to fill the pot, Chris caught his breath. He watched the tall man bend over his smaller friend, and with a few heartfelt phrases, and two strong hands, he'd given Vin Tanner a hefty dose of pride.
"He's a good man," Vin hushed, trying to stay upright.
"That he is," Chris agreed, "and every word he said was true. There isn't anyone I've every known who can do what you can. I'm not just talking about sharpshooting, tracking and hunting. You can read the wind, scent the changes long before they come. Hell, how many times has that saved us? You got a sense of nature and animals... all living things, that I've never encountered. But more importantly, you've got a gift Vin, right here." He took the tracker's hand and placed it on his black shirt. "You're the calm sea of my storm. You mean something to me, Cowboy," Chris hushed, his throat tight. "Something all the words in them fancy books can't touch. Lots of folks can read. But there's only one Vin Tanner, and I thank God everyday for the privilege of knowing him."
Vin was numb. Buck's words had filled the ragged hole inside with a flow of warmth. Chris's heartfelt epitaph had stolen his breath away. He wiped his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to thank Chris, to reassure him, to take that pain from the green eyes. But as he opened his mouth to issue his gratitude, the overbearing scent of the raw meat and the hiss as the blood of the rabbits hit the flames, turned his stomach. He turned to Chris, mouth gaping.
"Chris..." He managed, and then threw up all over his best friend's boots.
"You know, Chris," Buck teased, seeing the blond's face screw up as he grabbed Vin's shoulders. "You have that effect on folks."
"Fuck you, Buck." Chris suppressed his grin and the mustached-man howled.
"Chris, he ain't movin'." Buck's voice dropped, "Make sure he ain't chokin'..."
Chris eased Vin upright and tapped the flushed face. "Come on Vin, wake up." Two blue eyes opened and a series of weak coughs ensued. Buck retrieved the tracker's damp undershirt and turned it inside out. He poured a little water on it and handed it to Chris, who cleaned up the dazed face. "Here..." He eased Vin against the rock and cleaned off his shoes. "Buck..." He called out, gripping Vin under the arms from behind. "I'm gonna get him up, you get the pants on him."
"How come I get the hard job?"
"'cause he already puked on me twice," Chris grunted, hauling up the stuperous Texan. "...it's your turn."
"Come on, Slick, let's go." Buck knelt in front of Vin and lifted a leg into the pants on the ground. "Jesus, Vin, watch what you're doin'..." Buck yelped and rolled, glaring at Chris Larabee who was laughing hard.
"Ya said to go." Vin blinked in confusion, as he finished urinating.
"That's my sharpshooter," Chris gloated and watched Buck crawl back into position. With a few misguided steps, Vin was finally wearing the black jeans. He pushed Buck's hands away and fumbled with the buttons on the front.
"Damn..." He hissed, eyes wide as the form fitting pants were at last secured. He tugged at the confining crotch. "It's awful crowded down there... hell, the boys can't breathe."
Buck was on his knees and that comment sent him sideways, boisterous laughter spilling freely. Chris wore a bemused expression and steadied his wheezing friend. Vin watched both faces and laid a comforting hand on Chris Larabee's shoulder. With great seriousness, he consoled his anxious friend.
"That's okay, Chris. I'm sure yer little fellers do right good fer their size."
"Buck, don't make me shoot you." Chris warned, trying desperately not to laugh. Buck was beyond breathing. Gasping frantically for air and clutching his aching chest, he continued to howl.
"Damn, you put a little liquor in the boy and he's fuckin' hilarious," the mustached man wheezed.
Chris guided the stumbling sharpshooter over to the rock and sat him down on the ground. He tilted Vin's head back so he was reclining. "Stay put," he warned, "You hear?" Vin nodded and slid his eyes toward the dancing red and orange flames. He let the warmth and crackling lure him away.
Chris glared for several minutes at Vin's transfixed face. Satisfied that he was settled in, he sat down and took a plate of food from Buck. In addition to the rabbits, they had beans and coffee.
"I got some peppermint leaves," Buck commented, "I can make tea for him."
"He'd only toss it back at you." Chris shoveled the tender meat into his mouth. "He'll need it more tomorrow." He noted of the stomach-calming herb.
"I know you're upset, Chris." Buck saw the vein throbbing in the leader's temple, "But you gotta quit yellin' at him. He's about bust open."
Chris just blew out a frustrated breath and drained his coffee. He stood and lit a cheroot, stretching his limbs and walking a few feet away. Buck took the plates to the creek and cleaned them up. They both felt a chill when the sad tones wafted through the air. This time the voice was sweet and sad, issuing a melancholic melody.
And play the dead march as you carry me 'long
He had done wrong. Suddenly the fire didn't keep his warm and the icy fingers of his sad past strangled him. First his mother left, then the Padre, nobody to love him, nobody to worry. Alone, lonely and forgotten during his youth. Maybe that was his fate... to walk through this world all alone.
"...growed up alone... die alone... lonely, cold and forgotten... nobody t'care fer me..."
Buck winced at the hollow voice that was wavering. He made his way toward the forlorn figure, his large heart aching for this previously hidden side of Vin Tanner. He saw Chris's face frozen in pain for a split second and braced for the explosion.
"...nobody t'stand over m'grave... nobody'd miss me..." Vin's 'spirited' hiccup was accented by a lone tear.
"Jesus, Vin," the blond blew up, his pain unleashed, "Don't be so fuckin' morose," he hissed and turned away, tossing the cheroot and gripping his hips in tension.
Vin flinched and hunched his shoulders in pain as Chris's loud voice permeated his trance-like state. If he were closer, Buck would have punched Chris. Instead, he squatted down and sat next to the forlorn figure wearing Misery's heavy cloak. He laid an arm across the hunched shoulders and winced as a hand swiped the teary eyes.
"Hey Vin," he said cheerfully, squeezing the brown fabric, "I'll come to your funeral. Hell, I'll even bring a few folks." He watched the mangy head rise and smiled at the childlike wonder in the large blue eyes.
"Ya would?" Vin whispered, wary of his pounding head.
"Hell, yeah." Buck nodded, trying to find a way to chase the clouds away. "You won't be alone, I promise."
"Ye'd say some words over me?" Vin hushed, trying to keep Buck's blurry face in view.
"I'd find the prettiest ones in the Bible."
Buck suddenly seemed so strong and true. Vin took a deep breath and the cup of cold water the comforting hand offered. After a few careful sips, he felt the warmth of Buck's words and his presence seep right through every layer of cloth and into his heart. He felt his face flush and drew strength from the strong hand on his shoulder. He raised his head and stared at the kind, smiling rogue hard. He reached a trembling hand up and touched Buck's cheek.
"Yer a good friend, Bucklin," he managed, before the gates opened.
"Oh great!" Chris huffed sharply, "a crying drunk."
"Well now we all can't be as quiet, reserved and polite as you are, Pard," Buck frosted with a stern warning. Vin dropped his head between his raised knees and Buck was rubbing the emotional man's shoulders. "Go on Vin, it's okay. That was a long time coming. Get rid of that mess."
"Don't like it..." Vin hiccuped, upset at why he'd lost control. He'd never been so frayed and frail. He didn't like this feeling, not at all.
"No, I guess you don't." Buck sympathized, tugging Vin's shirt tail out and holding it up.
Vin wiped his face and took more water. Finally the awful wave of emotion subsided and he took a long breath. He thought of Buck Wilmington and how free he was. Buck didn't hide his emotions. He was proud of them. The outgoing spirit and large heart were greatly admired by Vin Tanner. Buck was the kind of friend most men wished they had. As a matter of fact, Buck had lots of friends.
"Must be somethin' t'have so many friends..." He mused, furrowing his brow, "...need t'book both damn Dinin' Rooms at the hotel... everybody loves Bucklin..."
"Huh?" Buck puzzled, not understanding what the wavering voice meant.
"That's enough, Vin," Chris ordered, dropping next to Vin on the other side.
"Quit hollerin' at me," Vin snapped, "I didn't say nothin' about his party."
"Party?" Buck's voice rose and he sat up, eyeing Chris Larabee hard.
"Shit..." the leader scowled, tossing a pebble into the fire.
Vin's head rose and a wave of guilt rode over him. The party was supposed to be a surprise for Buck's birthday. They'd been planning it for weeks. Chris even found some old army buddies that would be attending. The wave of emotion returned, stronger than before, as only an alcohol induced state can do.
"Aw, hell." Vin's lip wavered, "I fucked up again... can't do nothin' right..." He struggled to stand, embarrassed at both his overly emotive show and his guilt over spilling the beans.
"Hey now, Vin, it's okay." Buck shot up and grabbed the upset, smaller man. He struggled to find some way to get through the large blue eyes, welling with tears.
"I'm sorry, Bucklin... I..." Vin bit his lip as two tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Hey, Vin," the tall man gripped the shaking shoulders, "You just wait until we throw your party. Hell, I'll bet the whole damn town will come." He paused and watched the teary tracker wipe his face and hiccup. "When is it anyhow? How old are you, Slick?" He put an enthusiastic twist on the turn of the sentence.
"Don't rightly know..." Vin rasped, sitting back down and taking a handkerchief from Chris. He felt his best friend's hand on his shoulder and nodded in gratitude. "Thanks, Chris..." He paused. "Didn't have nobody t'count fer me... didn't have no kin."
Buck felt another pain stab in his gut. His heart went out to the huddled figure. He thought of his own childhood. How happy he always was, the unwavering love and devotion of his mother had been all the difference. That strong force had given him the confidence to stand tall and true. She made him feel like he was the luckiest kid on earth. He glanced painfully at Vin and wondered how you lose your whole world at the tender age of five and survive... alone.
Chris rose and stalked away, his churning gut waging a furious battle. Hands clenched to hips, he made several passes around the fire. Stealthily stalking a silent prey, he let the internal rage brew strongly. He felt every inch of Vin Tanner's raw, jangled nerves. They dangled in front of him, like Eve's apple, red and poisonous. It wasn't right... that Vin should expose himself like this. Vin Tanner was the most private person Chris knew. Listening to painful chapters of the tracker's harsh past left the gunslinger deeply wounded... and guilty. Vin kept his past, his feelings, doubts, and troubled youth tightly secured in a place deep within himself. He hadn't offered it freely; they'd stolen it from him. Hiding under the guise of darkness, it made him feel more of a coward. Vin's wavering hiccups slammed into him like bullets. He couldn't bear to look at the troubled, moist blue eyes.
"Go to sleep Vin!" he snapped, squatting by the fire and resisting the urge to grab the bottle of whiskey in the saddlebag.
Buck felt the pain he saw radiating from every inch of Chris Larabee's taut frame. When it came to Vin Tanner, Chris Larabee was as clear as glass. He knew how deeply Chris hurt and how much he cared for the quiet Texan. Buck's strong hand made large circles on Vin's hunched back.
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