Setting: OW
It was the loud pounding that roused him. The sandbags that seemed to be hauling his eyes downward, were forced over. He pried his heavy lids open and saw only darkness.
"There's no stars..." he murmured.
The pounding resumed and his hand felt... wood? Then he realized with a sick, deepening terror, that the pounding was his heart. No stars... no sky... no... no... air. No air? His mind whirled, swimming in dark, horrid channels, he felt himself guided by the murky water. He resisted and forced himself to fight. His arm shot up and hit wood... only inches above his face.
"Oh God..." he whispered, then felt his heart slamming hard into his chest.
He turned and clawed the harsh coffin, trying to fight his way out. A word formed, a face followed and he opened his mouth and screamed.
"Buck!"
"Jesus God!" Chris jerked and blinked as the shrill shriek split the night air. He shook off the slumber he sank into and shoved both arms on the chair to rise. Just as he did, a body stumbled past him and reached out for the terrified patient.
"Vin! Calm down," Buck hollered, seeing the wide blue eyes lost in their own nightmare world.
"Get his arm, Buck, hold 'em down, he's gonna bust his stitches," Chris directed, moving next to Buck and leaning over Vin's head.
Buck firmly clamped a hand on Tanner's right arm, which Nathan wisely bound to his chest. He used the other hand to hold Vin's left shoulder onto the bed. He moved back slightly, to allow Chris enough room.
"Vin, wake up, you're dreaming," Chris directely sternly, gripping the sweat-slick tracker's face. "Shit!" His breath snuck through clenched teeth at the audible gasping sounds coming from the younger man. Vin's thrashing was fading fast, but so was his breathing.
"Buck!" Vin screamed. Where was he? He'd turned sideways in the coffin and no couldn't move either arm. He tried to slow his breathing down, so he could think. "Buck... get me outta this fuckin' box...."
"...Dammit, he thinks he's in that coffin..." Buck's words died as Vin's eyes darted by both men, not seeing them. He sighed heavily and called to
Vin several times, but the injured man's chest continued to suck air; his mouth heaving like a fish on the shore. "Get 'im up, Chris..."
"Yeah," Chris agreed, "Get behind him and keep that arm still."
Buck moved around the bed and behind Vin, securing his arm. Chris hauled him upright, slapping the tracker's face. The jerking body, gasping for air, scared him. He used one strong hand to clutch Vin behind the neck and the other slapped his face again.
"Vin, you're in bed, you're not in a coffin. Breathe Vin, you got plenty of air... Come on Cowboy, breathe for me."
Vin stiffened and cocked his head. Just as his air was about to run out, there was a voice above. He turned his face and blinked, trying to peer at the blurry image. He took a huge mouthful of air as he felt the night rush in through the open lid.
"Thank God." Chris slumped for a moment, relaxing his iron-grip. He released one hand and reached backwards, snaking the linen cloth from the bowl of water. He wiped Vin's face and neck, but the unseeing eyes still rattled him.
"Vin, you with us?" Buck asked, rubbing the wet arm next to him.
Vin heard the voices, but couldn't see the stars yet. He felt air; where were the stars? Then the blurry face appeared and something else. He opened his mouth to speak, and something hit his nose and mouth. He sputtered and choked.
"Cut that out," Chris ordered, as the body weakly pulled away from the cloth. He saw Vin gagging and saw Buck turn Vin towards him. "Let it out, Vin. Don't swallow that." He tried to squeeze the jaw open and free what he thought was vomit, but the tracker didn't budge.
"Open your mouth!" Buck screamed and Vin obeyed.
Chris had the damp towel under Vin's mouth, but nothing came out. "What the hell's wrong?" He was losing his patience and it showed. He gripped Vin's neck and stared at the large eyes, now drooping with fatigue. Then a tip of tongue appeared and Vin begin to spit. "What's he doing?" He raised his eyes and saw Buck shrug. "Vin, what's the matter?" Chris gripped the jaw and spoke loudly, staring at the confused face.
It was landing by shovelfuls, filling the box and his mouth. He coughed and sputtered, but still it came, taking his last breath away. Then his head jerked, and he heard a voice. Hope soared and he fought with his last ounce of strength.
"Chris?"
"Yeah, Vin... I'm right here," Chris eased, seeing the eyes blink sleepily at him. "You okay now?"
"Get me out... get it out... can't breathe..." Vin protested, continuing to spit.
"You're in bed, Vin, you're not in that box." Buck repeated, one hand on Vin's back, the other holding the injured arm in place.
"...ck lin?"
"Yeah, Slick," Buck soothed, using the edge of the sheet to rub the moisture off the younger man's back. He frowned as Vin continued to cough. The soggy head turned backwards, trying to find him. "What's wrong?"
"...get it out... choking... me... dirt..."
"Shit!" Chris jerked his head towards the chest across the room. "Buck, get him some of that sugar-water Nate left. "Vin, Buck got you out of the box, you're okay now. You're not eating any dirt. I got some water for you. You take a deep breath for me."
It took several minutes and shuddering breaths, but Vin finally seemed to make the connection. He collapsed against Chris's shoulder, letting the other man guide the mug to his lips. After several slow sips, he felt the steady breathing against his neck. Chris handed the mug back to Buck, who was studying Vin's face.
"He out again?" Chris asked and Buck shook his head.
"No, he's putting the pieces together, his face is all screwed up." Buck bent over and tried to catch Vin's eyes. "Hey there!" He smiled as the wet head moved.
"Buck?" Vin rasped, squinting at the rogue's face. He cocked his head at the blurry white bandage and raised his hand towards it. "Yer hurt..."
"Just a scratch... You want some more water?"
"No... wanna sleep... s'hot... can't breathe..." he complained, frowning again as his head thumped against a chest. "Who... who..."
"Whose snugglin' up to you?" Buck teased, "You best not forget her name, she ain't gonna like that."
Vin heard and soft laugh and squinted his eyes again. His head was too heavy to lift, but his vision cleared enough to see black pants and boots. "Chris... doin' here?"
"Not sleeping," Chris replied, feeling his own breathing finally regulate.
"Hey Chris," Buck eyed the wet sheets under the fevered man. "His bed's a mess, that can't be comfortable. Put him in mine, It's almost daylight, anyhow."
"Okay," Chris agreed, "Pop that window up, he's right, it's like oven in here."
Between the two men, they got their slumbering friend into a dry bed. Chris bathed him good with alchohol water and then covered him to the waist. He felt the early morning air seep into the hot room and saw Vin relaxing. He pulled the chair over and sat down, resting his head against the wall.
"Chris?"
"Huh?" Chris blinked and saw Nathan's face in front on him. He cast an eye on Vin, who was still sleeping and then at the window. Daylight streamed inside. "Time?" he croaked, rubbing his eyes.
"Time for you to get some rest." Nate ordered, "Almost eight o'clock. Buck told me you had quite a night. Vin's fever givin' him bad dreams?"
"Yeah," Chris sighed, taking the mug of cold water Nate offered and draining it. "First few times, he thought he was tied down and that maniac was cutting him up, then he was trapped in the coffin and couldn't breath. How's he doing?"
"Fever's hanging in tough... I got broth coming up, can't fight without ammo..."
"Don't say it," Chris saw the brown face wrinkling up at him. "I look like shit..."
"You need a bath, Pard," Buck advised, waving from the doorway. "Two empty beds next store..." He tossed a key to the other man.
"Nate, if he gets worse," Chris warned, standing up and letting his bleary eyes finish the sentence.
"You'll be the first one I call. Now go..." The healer forced the stumbling leader out of the room. He then turned to his patient who was rousing.
"Mornin' Vin..."
Vin licked his dry lips and felt a hand lift his head. Something made of tin nudged his lips and they parted, taking in a good amount of cool water. He grunted in pleasure and heard a familiar chuckle. He blinked and stared hard, until the fuzzy features came together. "Nate... you?"
"Who was you expectin'?" The healer sat on the edge of the bed and peeling the soggy bandage off of the tracker. He felt the left arm snake over and pat his side.
"Glad..." Vin sighed deeply.
"You sure got a way with words," Nate smiled, feeling warm that his presence brought the fevered man relief. He continued his ministrations, hoping that the medicine, broth and care showered on the frail man, would be enough.
Ezra stood up and eyed the early light coming in the window. His shift was nearly over. They'd taken turns caring for their weak friend, as he battled his way through the awful fever. Vin remained lost in between two worlds, fighting the infection valiantly. He took broth and other liquids as directed and seemed most peaceful around Buck and Chris. But overnight, the gambler had fought with Vin as he battled his way back. He rubbed his eye where a wayward Tanner fist caught him, striking out against an invisible foe.
Vin watched Ezra for several minutes, before casting his eyes around the room. His left hand fumbled around, until it felt the bulk wrapped in bandages on his chest. His left hand moved again and felt only space where his right arm should be. He panicked and sputtered, trying to sit up.
"Shit... get this damn sheet... hell..."
"How can you possibly have any energy left?" Ezra sighed, moving towards the bed. "Cease that movement immediately!"
"Where is he?" Vin barked, weaving so harshly, he slid sideways, thumping into Ezra's legs.
"Of whom are you referring to?"
"Nate!" Vin coughed, shivered and sneezed.
"He's resting, where any sane person would be at this ungodly hour." Ezra drolled, gently moving the shaking body back onto the bed.
"I can change that," Vin huffed, trying to push Ezra out of the way.
"Stop it!" Ezra was tired, having slept little over the last six hours. He grabbed the flailing left arm and forced it down. "Nathan's exhausted and you are in no position to fight." He ordered, but frowned whent the body continued to jerk. "What!" he gritted, finally get the eyes to meet his.
"He cut my fuckin' arm off, that's what!" Vin released, collapsing back onto the wet pillows.
Ezra winced and sighed, before forming any words. "Perhaps he should have stitched your mouth up, when he finished saving your life... and your arm."
"What?" Vin's eyes spun and his hand fumbled again. "But..."
"It's taped to your chest to prevent furthur damage to your shoulder. If you persist in this uncalled for movement, I'll be forced to bind the other arm as well."
"I thought... " Vin bit his lip and withdrew, hoping Ezra didn't see his fear.
Ezra sat on the edge of the bed and gave Vin's left arm a gentle squeeze. "Your reaction was quite normal and certainly nothing to hang your head about." He commented, wringing out a damp cloth. "Much as I abhor menial labor of any sort, your unsightly appearance is hurting my eyes, May I?" He held the weak man's left arm down with ease and used the other to wipe the sputtering, protesting face and neck.
"... cut that out... didn't ask ya t'stay... don't need nobody... fussin'..."
Vin's protest died out as Ezra raised him and his head flopped forward, into the conman's shoulder. The muffled curses made the green eyes twinkle and the southerner's mouth broke into a genuine smile.
"It takes a unique abililty and untold talent to use profanity in several languages in one sentence so adeptly." He chuckled when the long string of words caused the other man to pause. He almost heard Vin thinking, trying to muddle his way through the grammer parade. Ezra's hand paused when Vin jerked, as the cold cloth moved down his lower back.
"Sorry..." Ezra winced, seeing the mottled colors where Vin's flesh was marred. The left hand that fought against him, was now clinging to his side and the damp head resting on his chest. He felt the ragged breathing and the single sharp cry.
"...didn't mean... t'bark at ya..." Vin whispered, gripping Ezra's jacket as the pain rolled by. His eyes slid shut again and he felt his body gently laid back and rolled over. Ezra's touch was feather light and Vin drifted, as the conman bathed him. Finally, he heard footsteps and struggled to rise.
"...leavin'?"
Ezra paused as the door, smiling despite himself. He peeked back and saw the blue eyes buried within dark circles. Vunerable eyes blinked back him, luring him in. He saw Josiah rumbling up the hall, ready to take over. The preacher carried a tray with breakfast on it and nodded for Ezra to join them.
"It is time for the changing of the guard," Ezra directed at Vin and saw his shoulders slump. He cocked his head and moved his body to allow Josiah past. He put the basin down and went back to Vin's side. He rested a hand on the pale face and smiled. The skin was cool to the touch, Vin's battle was over.
"You've won the battle," Ezra congratulated and saw Vin nod. A hand brushed against his arm and he took it. One eye peeled back and blinked at him.
"Thanks Ez... ya done good... I didn't mean t'holler."
"Yes you did," Ezra retorted with a smile and it deeped when the Texan smiled up at him.
"Maybe jest a little..." Vin agreed, then licked his lips. "Ya gonna finish that story? Iffen ya ain't too busy? Later maybe?"
"Story?" Ezra's brow creased.
"I thought..." Vin paused, "nevermind... must have dreamt it... 'bout some poor fella in an iron mask and his brother, who's a king but sorta crazy..."
"The Man in the Iron Mask?" Ezra's eyes widened in amazement. He had the book with him and began to read during the night, hoping the sound of his voice would cut through Vin's delrium. He had no idea the words he welded like swords, did their job. He saw the head nodding and sighed. "As it happens, I am free later. Perhaps after lunch, if you're not too tired." The contented smile and deep sigh gave him his answer. He left Josiah to his task and saw him effortlessly raise the Texan, shove a bank of pillows behind him and place the breakfast tray down.
"Mornin' Brother Vin..." Josiah repeated Ezra's action and felt his hand swatted.
"I'm fine... it's broke and quit pettin' me... ain't no damn dog..."
"No," Josiah agreed, shoving a spoonful of hot cereal into the protestor's mouth. "You sure are cute though." He used his free hand to move the unruly mass of wet curls from sticking to the slick skin.
"Aw, hell..." Vin mumbled and was rewarded by another spoon of cereal and Ezra's laughter.
The gambler took his leave, snaring a large blueberry muffin from the tray. He decided to get some rest before the scheduled lunch meeting with Judge Orin Travis. He would be arriving on the mid-morning stage and was a vital part of the plan to bring down Spencer Hazzard.
"Afternoon Judge," Josiah greeted as he entered the spacious room on the top floor of the hotel.
"Josiah," Orin Travis nodded, holding up a bottle of brandy. The graying peacekeeper denied the libation and settled into a seat near the window.
Several minutes later, Chris and Ezra entered and split up. Ezra eased into the green velvet sofa, Chris took position by the window, leaning against the wooden frame. Several seconds later, Buck and J.D. rushed in, breathless and panting.
"You cheated," Buck gasped, sinking into a chair and gulping down a glass of water.
"Didn't have to, you're old and fat," the youth crowed, elbowing his best friend.
"Buck, you didn't bet the Kid you could beat him up the stairs again, did you?" Josiah asked, shaking his head.
"He cheated," Buck insisted, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Where's Mr. Jackson?" Orin glanced around the room and his eyes rested on Chris Larabee.
"He's coming," Chris replied, pouring a shot of whiskey and sipping it slowly, "...finishin' with Vin."
"How is he?" Orin's brows drew together and he rested his chin on his extended fingertips.
"Alive." Chris sighed, taking his eyes to the street.
"Has he been made aware of the situation at hand?" The Judge inquired.
"Sort of..." Buck answered, recalling Vin and Chris's hot exchange of words the day they rode in.
"Can you clarify that Buck?" Travis leaned forward and studied the young man's face.
"He knows Hazzard's here... and we're scoping him." Chris turned back towards the room.
"From your tone of voice, it sounds like he wasn't happy..."
"He'll live with it." Chris replied tonelessly.
"Maybe we won't have to tell him," J.D. offered, recalling how out of it Vin had been at lunch. They'd all clamored into the patient's room to eat with him, but he slept most of the time, and when he was awake, he was terribly weak.
"Sins by ommision are the worst offenses of all, J.D." Chris shot back, "He's not a child and won't be treated like one."
"I don't know, Chris, J.D. has a point," Josiah reasoned, "Vin's gonna..."
"No!" Chris snarled, "I won't lie to him, it's not up for discussion."
J.D. jumped at the harsh bite in Chris's voice. He spotted the fist clenching and slid his body sideways. "He's our friend too, Chris," the youth spoke up, "You don't have the corner on his feelings."
"Chris's right," Buck added somberly, his blue eyes drawn. "I won't lie to him, he deserves better."
"Aren't we putting the cart before the horse, so to speak?" Ezra placated, "I believe the first call to order is to devise a plan. Mr. Tanner's inclusion in such action is secondary."
"Okay, what do we have?" Chris moved closer to the rest of the group, his mind still troubled by how pale and listless Vin had become. Nathan tried to explain, but it didn't take the unsettled stomach away.
"Well, we meet with Hazzard at his house tonight. Colt's been keeping an eye on 'im. That lawyer of his was at his place all day yesterday. He rode out again about an hour ago, after leaving the post and telegraph office." Josiah noted. "He was in a big hurry."
"Hmmm..." Orin mused, "Interesting. I have some information to share." The judge slid a group of papers towards the preacher. He watched Buck stand and cross over, reading over Sanchez's shoulders. "As you can see, the railroad was already suspicious and had their own investigation underway. Three of the rancher's that he pressured have come forward, as well as two of Eli Joe's men."
"Their testimony ain't worth spit!" Buck grunted.
"I also have a copy of the 'alleged' confession by Vin Tanner from the sheriff in Tascosa. The state interviewed both the sheriff, his deputy and the three men who brought Tanner in. They were only to glad to confess."
"Hmmph..." Chris grunted. "Turnin' on Hazzard to save their own skin."
"...and if the reptile in question learns of these details..." Ezra mused.
"He'll head south," J.D. thought aloud, "He can't stay here..."
"Maybe we should pay him an unexpected visit." Chris shifted, flipping through the pages of statements that Josiah handed him.
Before anyone could reply, their missing friend entered the room. All eyes shifted to the healer, whose face held a degree of concern that caused them to take pause.
"Sorry I'm late," Nate nodded to the judge and grabbed a seat next to Ezra. The gambler spent a few moments updating the newcomer with what they learned.
"How's he doing?" Orin directed, seeing the worry lines on the healer's dark face.
"The fact that he's still breathing is nothing short of a miracle. He was in a bad way to begin with, when he got tossed in that hell hole," he spat of the prison, "No rest... no proper food to build him up... then gettin' shot and butchered... takin' his heart down... the fever... it's too much, even for a Tanner."
"What are you saying?" Chris accused, his eyes like coals. He strode over and towered above the tired healer.
"He's wore out, Chris." Nate sighed, "He's got nothin' left to fight with, that fever took almost everything outta him. He's down ten pounds at least, maybe more. He didn't have no spare weight to begin with."
"He's not dying..." Chris denied, almost defensively.
"That's not my decision," Nate stared hard, brown eyes laced in anger. "..not yours either. Up to Vin and God." He paused and saw Larabee's feature pale and a slight tremor in the flexing hand that finally resting on the pearl-handed colt. "He gets the right medicine, lots of rest and good food, he'll be okay. His arm... well, it's too soon to tell. But no way he's ready to leave that bed, not for a week at least. He couldn't hardly get his lips open to eat his lunch, he's so weak."
"Guess that solves that debate," J.D. said quietly. "What about Hazzard? How are we gonna play this? If he's got the same information, he knows he's done, he'll pay off... right?"
"Which leaves us with the task of having him admit to his guilt." Ezra nodded.
"Most likely, he'll take off as soon as he ties loose end up here. Is the District Attorney gonna indict him?" Buck turned back to face Orin Travis.
"Not yet, they're still building their case. Five thousand dollars is a good deal of money and would take a few days, at least, to compile. Let's see what Hazzard has to offer this evening."
It was close to dusk when they left the saloon. Dinner was done and they headed for the livery, to ready their mounts. Nathan made his way back to the hotel, carrying a tray of minced beef and rice, a large tin of broth, some custard and cider. He tapped the door with his foot and stepped back as the footfall sounded.
"Their waitin' on ya, Chris," Nate imparted, eyeing the strained face that greeted him. He heard Chris sigh heavily and watched the gunslinger's right hand run through his short blond hair. He set the tray down on the small table, near Vin's bed, and bent down to check his patient. He tapped the slack cheek and two blue slits appreared, then the pale face screwed up.
"Hey there," Nate greeted, pulling the muddled tracker forward. "Chris..." He moved his head and the other man sprung forward, grabbing the two extra pillows and bending them behind Vin, so the body would stay upright.
"Thought you was gonna sleep clear through supper." He took the mug of cider Chris gave him and lifted Vin's head forward.
Vin drained the cup and eyed the rosy sky peeking in through the windows. A slight breeze filtered in and he savored it. He sighed and frowned, frustrated by his body betraying him. The overpowering fatigue didn't set well with him. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open. He felt a spoon nudge his lips and opened, taking in a mouthful of beef and rice. He'd heard snippets of hushed whispers earlier about Hazzard. His heavy eyes never opened, but he knew his friends had been close. He eyed Chris's gunbelt, primed and ready and flicked an eye at his best friend. "Dammit..." he whispered, tapping the bed weakly with his left hand.
Nate paused and placed the spoon back on the tray. He eyed the two staring each other down, and stood up. "Looks like I forgot your napkin. I'll be right back." He excused himself, with a short nod to Chris.
Chris moved the tray from Vin's lap, back onto the table. He stood by the bed and watched the play of emotions on his injured friend's face. His gaze shifted and he winced at the ribs now peeking through Vin's slight frame.
"It ain't fair..." Vin rasped, clutching the edge of the sheet into a ball.
"It's not about fair," Chris replied, "Life never is..." A brief image of Sarah and Adam flitted close, they left.
"I been waitin' fer this... thinkin' on the day I tracked that fucker... Shit!"
Vin hissed, eyes flashing. The brief burst of words left him breathless and he gasped for several seconds. He pulled away from the hand on his shoulder and jerked his eyes upward. "Don't..."
"I thought this was about justice," Chris shook his head and moved towards the door, "I guess I was wrong." He saw the sky eyes narrow and the head tilt to the left. He almost smiled, Vin always mulled things over the same way.
"I want him dead." Vin shot back, fueled by his misplaced bounty. "I want him t'suffer... I want..."
"Revenge?" Chris dicatated.
"Hell yeah!" Vin spat back, coughing and swaying. He felt Chris right him and the hand remained fixed on his shoulder, until the errant breathing halted and the room stopped spinning.
"It's not about revenge, Vin," Chris lowered his voice. "The Judge had statements from some of the ranchers Hazzard strong-armed. He's got other statement too, from the sheriff and some others in Tascosa. With the right amount of pressure, he'll crack. He won't see the light of day again. Isn't that what's important."
"Hah!" Vin snorted, tossing his matted head, "Yer a fine one t'talk about playin' by the rules. Where was yer fuckin' logic when Fowler appeared?"
"That was different!" Chris bristled, eyes stormy.
"The hell it was!" Vin shot back, chest heaving. He began to cough again and the movement roused the blinding pain in his back. He hissed and hunched over, then felt two strong arms around him, fighting by his side, chasing the pain away. His breathing relaxed and he felt a damp cloth pressed into his hands. He wiped his sweating face and felt a light touch to his shoulder.
"That's the difference." Chris said calmly of the power that surged between them. "Between that bastard killing himself and Ella's game... I did a lot of thinking. It's about right and wrong... it's about justice. It's about being a part of something bigger than yourself."
Vin heard the words and more importantly, he felt it deep inside. His head rose as he thought on Buck's words on the road to town several days before. He got the same tingling inside now, as he had when the rogue's soothing voice carried him then.
"Man ought to know when to take a hand..." he murmured, cocking his head.
"Now your talking, Cowboy," Chris sighed in relief, seeing the light of reason in the previously stormy blue eyes. He moved over the bed and locked onto Vin's left forearm. The weakness of the other's grasp, made him flinch.
"Okay?"
"Yeah."
"Good," Chris sighed, "Don't give Nathan any shit."
"Me?" Vin's eyes widened and gave Chris a chuckle. "Hey Chris," Vin called as the gunslinger's hand grabbed the doorknob. "Thanks." The leader's familiar half-smile appeared and gave him one of his own. "Ya tell Bucklin... ya tell him..." Vin paused, taking time to recapture his breath. He took a deep breath and stared at Chris's eyes, while thinking of Buck's dark blue ones. "Ya tell him his shoulder's is doin' fine, and I'm grateful." He saw Chris puzzle a moment, raise an eyebrow then nod, before disappearing out the door.
Nathan watched Vin from the doorway and saw the disappointment on his gaunt face. He shifted his gaze to the window and got an idea. He strode across the room and stood next to the bed.
"How about a little fresh air, Vin?"
The others were waiting outside the livery, when Chris arrived. He mounted his horse and eyed the anxious faces before him. A single nod answered their lingering question and the calm in the green eyes chased away the apprehension over the tracker's state of mind. He drew the reins in and moved up next to Buck.
"Chris?" Buck asked, wanting, no needing to hear more. He watched his oldest friend's lips curve into a half-smile and felt the relief. His brows knit in confusion when Chris eyed him from side to side, then rested a hand on his shoulder.
"He said to tell you," Chris paused, "Your shoulders are just fine and he's grateful." Chris felt the audible sigh of relief before Buck let it airborne. He saw the familiar wide smile that was such a part of Buck's charm. "I guess you needed that."
"Thanks, Pard," Buck chuckled, "You got no idea how much."
"Everybody clear on their positions?" Chris eyed J.D. who nodded, then went around the perimeter. "We'll split up at the fork in the road, Ezra and me head in alone, Let's ride!"
Although he was in the lead and his eyes were drawn to the horizon, Chris's mind was spinning and weaving the bits and pieces of the plan into place. His head jerked when he heard Buck's soft exclamation.
"Well, I'll be damned," Buck laughed, taking his eyes to the left. He reined his horse in and studied the hotel's patio above his head.
"Hey, Vin!" J.D. whispered, giving his sick friend a beaming smile. The rest followed suit, nodding and sending their support. More importantly, the blue eyes shone right back at them, strong and true, and renewed their sense of mission. Chris waited for the others to pass, save Buck, who was staring hard at the tracker. The green eyes noted by the body's position, Vin was propped up on a table, near the edge of the wall. Nathan's tall, lean body was behind him, holding him upright. He smiled at the tracker, green eyes bore into blue, then with a nod and tip of his hat, he spurred his horse onward.
Vin watched them leave and felt his chest swell. Chris was right, it was about justice and a lot more than that. It was about pride too, his own and theirs. The wind lifted his hair and he drew back from the departing horses, to the one that remained. His face broke into a genuine smile and he felt a lump in his throat forming. He straightened his back as best he could and felt Nate's strong arms grip him tighter. He managed to squirm his left hand free, and raised it over his brow.
"Ya give 'im hell, Marshal," he saluted, eyeing the shine in Buck's eyes.
"You can put it in the bank, Tanner," Buck whispered, feeling his own chest tighten. He repeated Vin's gesture and let out a whoop, before galloping off to join his friends.
Spencer Hazzard eyed the clock on the mantle above the dormant fireplace and strode over, after glancing at his watch. He opened the glass cover and adjusted the small hand. Satisfied, he returned to the pale green wingchair and took a seat. He kept his eyes hooded as he gazed at the smug lawyer on the sofa to his left.
"It's unfortunate that all your problems can't be solved that easily," George
Carpenter drawled. The former partner of a large St. Louis law firm had been retained by the wealthy judge to oversee his growing empire. The judge worked briefly in St.Louis and recognized the jaded side to the solicitor.
"Have you considered my suggestions?"
"Thowing it all away," Hazzard snapped, "after all the trouble I've gone through... to let that cretin dictate to me... the audacity of that man," he chuffed and paused, "...and that slimy lawyer he hired... I won't back down... I've decided to call their bluff."
"You're a fool, Hazzard." Carpenter leaned over and picked up his glass of brandy. His dark hair was just beginning to turn silver and his waistline was suffering from too much rich food. He missed St.Louis and the sooner he could convince his client to liquidate his assets, the better. "Chris Larabee is dangerous man and a deadly one. I don't know what his stake in this is, my information is limited. I do know that for the last several years, he's drifted from town to town, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake."
"...and Talmidge?" the judge asked of the smooth talking lawyer who'd accompanied Larabee.
"I couldn't find anything in New Orleans or Altanta, but that's beside the point. Forget the con their trying to pull and concentrate on your real problem. The railroad is pressing hard to clean up their reputation, which is bad news for you, old friend. I saw Orin Travis in town, undoubtedly he's been contacted by the investigative team retained by the Coastal and Western. He's a well respected judge and rules with an iron fist. If you're prosecuted, you'll never see the light of day again."
"Still, 'take the money and run' isn't my style."
"and murder is?" The lawyer saw the silver head raise and the eyes flash in anger. "You've got more than enough to live like a king in Mexico."
"Somehow, I don't think Chris Larabee will let me stroll out of town. He has hired guns with him..."
"Ah," the other corrected, rising and refreshing Hazzard's glass. "But you're forgetting that for now, we have the advantage. They don't know we recognized Larabee. You play the game and play it well," he coached, clinking the imported French Brandy snifter. "I'll need a week to transfer what I can of the holdings you invested up north." He spoke of the money funneled into powder mills, a shipping line and garment factories in the New England States. "It's a good thing you didn't use your real name."
"How much?"
"More than enough," Carpenter replied, "Thousands, which in Mexico will build you a castle if you want. You've no other choice, your likeness will plastered from coast to coast in every rail depot."
"Continue," Hazzard sighed dejectedly.
"They'll be arriving soon. We'll fuss, but concede in the end. We'll convince them you need a week to get the five-thousand dollars together."
"That's all fine and good, what about Larabee and his help?"
"You leave them to me," the lawyer rose as the distant sound of hooves could be heard. "I've got the right distraction and a route mapped out to the border." He turned from the large French doors and watched two riders sliding off their horses. "Follow my lead, Spencer and don't let your temper get the best of you."
Ezra studied Chris as the maid allowed them to enter into the impressive foyer. He didn't miss the anger rising in Larabee. To the naked eye, the blond appeared impassive, but the southerner knew better. The touch of flint in his eyes, the brief twitch of his lip and the fingers resting on his hips under the duster were all telltale signs of his ire. He turned and gave Chris a questioning look and saw a brief nod.
"Good evening, Gentlemen," a voice greeted them from the entrance to the parlor, "I'm George Carpenter."
"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Chris sighed, brushing past the pompus fool.
"I've been retained by Judge Hazzard to consider the uh... offer that you presented him with a few days ago," the lawyer continued, feeling the heat of mystique that was Chris Larabee. "Something to settle the dust?" He waved a hand at the rolling cart housing several crystal decanters. "Brandy perhaps?"
"No thank you," Ezra declined. Chris glared at the open hand of the stranger, who quickly retreated and poured himself a glass.
"Now as for the reason of your surprise visit the other day," Carpenter stated, only to be cut off.
"Got five thousand reasons..." Chris said lazily, leaning on the mantle, "nothing else to discuss."
"Shall we review the contract you presented? I think they're are several fine points that need to be ironed out. I have to consider my client's best interests..."
"It would be in my best interest to see your fuckin' client hanging by his balls over a roasting pit... " Chris snarled, the sight of the man responsible for Vin's hellish nightmare shortened his fuse.
"Charming, isn't he?" Carpenter spoke to Ezra.
"Mr. Lawrence isn't himself today," Ezra warned Chris without looking at him.
"As I explained to Judge Hazzard, with the right amount of persuasion, Mr.
Lawrence might have a memory lapse. His testimony, verifying Mr. Tanner's whereabouts on the night in question, is a key part of the case the railroad is building. The other witnesses came forward only after my client offered his support. They are, for the most part, still not convinced. With his withdrawl, they would recede as well. So, we feel the sum is more than fair."
"That's a considerable amount of money." Hazzard interjected, "and the act of blackmail doesn't set well with me."
"I guess once you're used to a diet of murder, arm-breaking, arson and racketeering, blackmail is a mite bland," Chris's voice was low and lethal, "You fuckin' hypocrite!" His eyes burned into Hazzard's with such force, the other man turned away.
As repulsed as Ezra was by Hazzard, he was worried about Chris's temper. He also got the distinct impression, all was not what is appeared to be. "Shall we continue? The amount is not negotiable. I'm sure your client has appraised you on the repercussions, should something befall either one of us."
"I'm not that stupid, Mr. Talmidge." Carpenter shook his head, "I've got a healthy list of clients to get back to. We'll need time, that's a lot of money. I have to transfer some assets and I'll need at least ten days. In return, I want a affadavit from Mr. Lawrence refuting his original statement."
"Five." Chris spat back.
"A week," Carpenter suggested and Ezra nodded. "Very well, I'll contact you as..."
"You have a draft ready with a notarized statement from the bank, nine a.m. on the twelth," Chris dictated.
"That's only six days!" Hazzard complained.
"Excuse my bleedin' heart." Chris quipped in disgust, "Nine a.m. at the bank in town."
He strode from the room without glancing back. Ezra rose slowly and nodded, then joined his partner outside. They rode in silence until they reached the fork in the road, where Buck greeted them. Josiah released the now unarmed ranch guards, waiting until they rode off before joining his friends.
"Well, how'd it go?" J.D. asked, riding up from his position on the point.
"He's got his bags packed," Chris relayed, smacking Ezra's arm and wiggling his fingers.
Ezra produced his flask and handed to the leader. "That's the impression I got as well. They have no intention of paying. But... something is amiss..."
"That lawyer left outta town just as the stage got here. Could be he recognized Orin." Josiah mused.
"Maybe," Chris agreed, taking a liberal dose of the rich whiskey, "But I'm guessing that high-priced lawyer of his has the same information Orin does."
"Which means he's heading south," Ezra deducted.
"Guess we'll have to keep a close eye on 'em." Buck sighed, clapping J.D.'s back, "Let's head back to town. All this spy stuff works up a good thirst and I know that silver in your pocket is itchin' to be spent."
"On you?" J.D. scoffed, "Could be I have plans for this evening."
"Aw, hell, Kid," Buck returned, winking at the grinning preacher next to the youth, "You can't afford them gals inthe saloon. Besides, they'd see a greenhorn like you a mile away."
"I ain't as green as you think Buck!" J.D. tossed back defiantely.
"That solo action in the steam don't count..." Josiah said somberly, giving J.D. a heavy blush, which in turn gave Buck a belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes.
"I didn't... I wasn't... How did you... dammit!" J.D. flustered, ducking Josiah's large hand, which landed on his back anyway.
"Come on, J.D.," Buck urged his horse onward, "I'll give you pointers on the way to town."
"Oh, lucky me," J.D. moaned, galloping to catch up.
Breakfast the next morning found the group sprawled about the saloon. Orin was at the hotel, having breakfast with Vin. Chris left when the judge arrived, having spent the night in the spare bed in Vin's room. He was glad the tracker slept soundly and was following Nathan's guidance to the letter. Chris helped him to bathe and sit up, then placed a tray in front of him, just at Orin arrived. He was pleased to see Vin's wobbly left arm able to maintain a grip on the wooden spoon that held porridge.
When Chris arrived at the saloon, he noticed how tired Ezra looked. The gambler had a busy evening the night before. He'd spent the early hours with Vin, who was engrossed in a book Ezra was reading. Then after the infirmed man dozed off, the slick conman spent several hours wheeling and dealing with some of the locals. One of the patrons with an especially loose tongue, was a clerk at the telegraph office. Ezra plied him with liquor, which pried the youth's lips open. The southerner managed to extract that Carpenter had sent several wires up north to some large businesses. The slurring young man told Ezra that the wealthy lawyer was booked for the week at the hotel. From these clues, Ezra deduced that the sleazy lawyer was liquidating his client's assets. They decided to split up in teams, watching the lawyer and the ranch. Now, they were deciding what to do when Hazzard took off. Josiah studied the map of the region and they're were two paths that were strong candidates. One was through a rough stretch of ground, which they ruled out. The judge wasn't he 'roughing it' type. The other was longer, but dotted with waterways.
For fifteen minutes or so, several ideas were tossed around and shot down, then Chris Larabee suddenly let a small smile creep up on his face. He cocked his head and grinned lewdly at Buck Wilmington.
"What?" Buck frowned, eyeing the strange look on his friend's face.
"Somers Point... freezin' rain... sixty-three..." Chris prompted and saw the rogue's frown turn upsidedown.
"Sixty-four..." Buck corrected, then chuckled, his eyes lighting up. "Hell, Chris, that just might work," He rubbed his mustache and laughed again. "Damn I was good that night!"
"Am I old enough to hear this?" J.D. queried over his pancakes, causing Josiah and Ezra to grin.
"Get your mind out of the gutter," Buck slapped the youth, "I swear J.D..."
"For those of us who were not privy to the wonderous event in the storm of sixty-four?" Ezra quipped, letting the sentence dangle like the ham on his fork.
"Our unit got split up," Chris sighed, recalling the event like it was yesterday. "We were on the run and the Rebs were pressing. It was in Virginia in March... it was cold...."
"Fuckin' cold," Buck corrected, recalling the horrid storm, "...Major Harper sent us ahead to scout the area. We weren't sure which way they were coming and had to protect the railroad."
"What happened?" Nate asked, watching the pair exchange another sinister smile.
"Colonel Augustus Zachariah Everett is what happened." Chris noted of the Rebel commander they'd encountered. "You up to the challenge, Stud?"
"Bring on that scaley son-of-a-bitch!" Buck hollered, taking the mug of coffee Chris offered. He took a long sip and whooped loudly, before slapping his free hand on the table.
"It goes like this..." Chris leaned in and spelled out the plan.
Page | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 |
Return to Deirdre's Fic Archive | Return to Lady Angel's Library
