Setting: OW
"You finish all of that," Nate warned, watching the blond head dip.He frowned as the leader toyed with his supper. With every passing hour and empty mile covered, the withdrawal became stronger. The pale green eyes were full of pain... something deep and unreachable. Guilt was hovering, like an unwelcome phantom, ready to steal the gunslinger's soul. If it were just one of them, he'd have the other. But losing both Buck and Vin, his oldest and closest friends, was too much to bear. Even Chris Larabee had a breaking point. "Chris... you ain't gonna build your strength back up, unless you eat."
"It wouldn't stay put."
Chris pushed the remnants of a former rabbit away and lit a cheroot. Nathan was a good man, a talented healer and a good friend. But tonight, Chris's soul ached, and that was something even the most talented surgeon couldn't fix. Buck and Vin... both of them... how could it be possible? He leaned back against his saddle and winced. It hurt losing Buck so soon after he'd found him again. That deep voice, warm and rich, that bold laugh, the saucy wink, the steady hand gone forever. What if Buck got his memory back and realized what he'd done. Knowing Buck's big heart, Chris couldn't fathom the degree of guilt. What would happen when Buck realized Vin was dead because of him. He sighed and felt the pain rip into his gut again. Vin... he closed his eyes, pushing the burning sensation back. That was something so deep and real that there was no pain, only a bitter cold. A cruel, icy sensation that left him void of all feeling. Tomorrow the sun would come and in towns all around the county, life would resume. But for Chris Larabee, without Vin and Buck, there would be only pale imitations.
Nathan saw anguish on the pale face he felt like he'd been gutshot. He turned away and thought of the first time he saw Vin Tanner. A cocky, pale-faced stranger who'd spit into the wind. That defiant chin jutted out and challenged a yardful of yahoos. Vin never blinked, he stared down those cowards and Nate admired that. Over time, they'd developed a good friendship. Those blue eyes harbored many things. Sometimes, he saw such hurt housed there, it gave him a deep pain. The same sky eyes could light up a room with laughter, an infectious laughter. Once Vin got going, all of them followed. How could help yourself? The poetry hadn't surprised Nathan, he'd seen the sensitive side of Vin early on. Buck, the mere mention of his name brought a huge grin. If there was a walking definition of a cowboy, it was Buck Wilmington. Handsome, brave, charming, cunning, fearless... a rogue. The kind of friend every man wanted, and every woman dreamed of. He sighed, the coffee suddenly tasted bitter and he tossed it away. He laid back and crossed his arms under his head. His soulful brown eyes gazed intently at the starfield above his head.
"Where are you?" He whispered, his need to heal overwhelming him. He turned and saw Chris shift, and the healer's eye caught a glimmer of silver in the gunslinger's hand. It wasn't so much the look of raw agony in the green eyes, but the fierce grip on the mouth harp. The strong hands were gripping Vin Tanner's soul.
"You shouldn't be out of bed!" The doctor crossed the room and grabbed the staggering figure.
"I'm okay... just need to eat." Buck protested, grateful for the strong arm.
"Got some roast chicken and fixin's... " the old man offered and waited for Buck to nod. He exited, leaving the two younger men to talk.
"These accidents," Buck pressed, "You got records of them?"
"Why?"
"You write them down and I'll get them a Judge. Man like that has to be stopped."
"You're safe in here. But once you try to leave..."
"I'm leavin' tomorrow and taking Tanner with me."
"You're not ready to ride a horse yet. You won't get five miles before you fall off. There's too much desert out there..."
"Day after then," Buck compromised, feeling extremely weak and rundown. He grimaced and rubbed his head, which throbbed relentlessly. "How's the kid?"
"Better. His fever's down, but his leg's still infected. I wired a preacher for him..."
"A preacher?" Buck boomed, "What preacher?"
"Some fellow he ran into west of here." The doctor moved as his father entered, placing a plate of food down and a large mug of lemonade. "I guess every man seeks comfort in the Bible when he feels his time is near."
"You finish all that or you get no pie." The elder man chastised, giving Buck a stern look.
"Damn, you sound like Nathan..." Buck ducked and picked up a fork.
"Who's Nathan?" The doctor leaned forward.
"Huh?" Buck looked up.
"You said my Pa sounded like Nathan," he paused, recalling the ranting deliveries the ill man made the night before. "You called for him several times, during your fever dreams."
"Yeah?" Buck frowned, thinking hard and shaking his head. "Don't know any Nathan's. Must have been a crazy dream."
"How about Chris or J.D.?"
Buck swallowed the potatoes and buttered a biscuit. "Chris..." he nodded, "Chris Larabee, an old friend of mine. J.D...." he said over and over, "Nope..."
"Well, I guess you could be confused." He hesitated and waited for his father to go outside to smoke his pipe. "Did you mean what you said about getting a judge to do something about Ben Adamson?"
Buck washed the herb-laced chicken down with a long gulp of lemonade and nodded. "When I took that oath," he noted of his lawman's creed, "I took it to heart. That animal made the worst mistake of his sorry life when he beat Tanner."
John O'Conner pulled back, surprised at the venom in the injured man's voice. The dark blue eyes were hooded and full of hate. If he didn't know better, he'd swear this man was out for blood... the kind of lust that comes with caring for someone, caring deeply, like family.
"That kid mean something to you?"
"He's my responsibility." Buck shot back, angry at himself for the uncontrollable urges and rage he felt whenever the battered face with trusting blue eyes filled his mind. "I gave him my word. Buck Wilmington's word is as good as done. If he was set up, I aim to fix that."
"Coffee?"
"Yeah, thanks Doc."
"It's John," the doctor replied, offering his hand. "I'll be back with that pie."
Buck sighed and stared out the window, his eyes riveted on the sheriff's office. The face appeared again and Buck's stomach clenched. He gripped the red checked napkin in his hand and watched the fog cover the pleading eyes. Another sheriff's office appeared with a cocky kid out front. Same face from the other dream... long dark hair, trusting hazel eyes, brassy grin... stupid hat. A strange voice echoed in his head. He was looking up from the ground at the dark-haired kid.
"You look awful Buck."
He jerked when the hand touched his back.
"Sorry, Son."
"That's okay, Old Timer..." Buck stammered, shaken by the vision. What the hell was wrong with him? Maybe this head injury was serious. Nightmares with his eyes open... he'd be grateful for the damn medicine tonight.
The doctor returned with a tray bearing pie and coffee. He noticed the startling change in his patient. The tall man seemed to have lost his appetite and was almost melancholic. He appraised the sharp features and rapid blinking.
"I've got something for that headache." He said quietly and helped the injured lawman to his feet.
"Thanks," Buck nodded, taking the painkiller without hesitation. "Did I get any telegraphs?"
"No, sorry." the Doctor replied. The marshal was worried about his deputy and waiting for a return to the wire that was sent.
Later, when the house was quiet, Buck waited for the medicine to take effect. Burrowed under the soft quilt on the comfortable bed, he kept seeing that strange boy with black hair, a bowler and a badge. The gold tooth gambler reappeared, shuffling cards and grinning... the large man with gray hair and a pair of kind dark eyes in a dark face. The images came faster and caused his head to pound. He felt the drugs wash over him and surrendered.
"Sheriff... Sheriff Adamson..."
The lawman shoved the busy redhead who was on her knees, in the alley. He buttoned his pants and quickly turned around. He peered into the darkness and saw a body waving at him from down the street. He reached behind and slid one beefy hand down past the low neckline, squeezing the ample bosom. "Get a bottle and get to your room... I'm hungry tonight..." he warned, pinching her hard before withdrawing his hand. She shuffled off and disappeared into the night.
"What is it Carl?" he asked, recognizing the approaching figure.
"I thought you should know, the Doc wanted me to send a wire to Four Corners for that Tanner fella."
"I hope you didn't do something stupid Carl."
"No Sir..." the clerk stammered, eyeing the wall of muscle.
"Good. You keep it that way. Who was he trying to contact?"
"Some preacher..."
"Hmph..." The lecherous lawman scoffed, "...where's that murderin' bastard is headed, they don't need Bibles. He'll be tradin' his soul for a pitchfork."
Vin felt Adamson before he saw him. The tracker had his aching body facing the wall. The heat of the cell told him it was nearing midmorning. He'd been alone all morning and more than a little apprehensive. The doctor hadn't been in and that wasn't like him. At breakfast, the kid deputy mentioned an emergency well outside of town. It didn't set well with Vin then and even less so now. He'd been testing his leg, wincing at the healing skin began to pull. What bothered him more was not seeing Buck. It had been two days and although he believed the doctor, that Buck was too ill to be up and about, it still gnawed at him. He didn't trust the weasel with the badge who now was unlocking the door.
"Well now," the huge man boomed, forcing Vin to back up. "Since that leg is working so well, let's take a little walk."
"I ain't goin' nowhere," Vin said cooly, meeting the sadistic eyes. He limped back to his cot, but before he got there, a beefy hand gripped his shoulder painfully. He was spun around and backhanded viscously, splitting his lip.
"Don't you sass me, Tanner." Adamson grilled, gripping Vin's collar and shoving him hard against the bars. "The livery needs cleaning and there's grain sacks to be unloaded at the Feed and Seed. You've been elected... move." He drew his pistol, and Vin didn't doubt he'd use it. Sighing, he wiped the blood from his lip and limped painfully out the door.
A hot bath and good lunch left the recovering lawman feeling much better. Draining the last of the aspirin powder, he headed over to the jail. He was anxious to see Tanner and upset that Old Man O'Conner left him sleep until noon. He checked the telegraph, but there was still no word from Danny. He entered the jail and frowned at the empty desk. He looked inside and saw three empty cells. His nose told him which one had been occupied. He unlocked it and went inside. Eyeing the full bucket in the corner, he realized that Tanner hadn't been gone long. Fear gripped him and visions of Adamson beating Tanner outside town or worse rammed into him. Guilt assaulted him and a pain drove him to his knees. The day visionsreturned, Tanner's face, emotive and saddened appeared. The soulful eyes were wide and wet and a sorrow gripped the mustached man. He shook himself free of the spell and dizzily eyed the empty cell. Why did this stranger grip his chest so badly? He staggered outside and saw the kid sheriff down the street. Another vision appeared, the dark-haired youth with the bowler hat laughing with a young girl. The green-eyed gambler was next to him, the sun reflecting off his gold tooth.
"J.D..." he croaked, reaching a hand out. The face grew closer and the strange youth wearing a badge turned to him in the mist. The boy's lips formed a name... his name. The pain in his head was blinding. He staggered haphazardly, gripping both sides of his head. He didn't see the curb and tripped, going to his knees hard. He felt two hands grab him and saw the kid sheriff fading fast.
"Hey...." Andy managed as the body toppled. "Clem, Dave, I need a little help here," he called back to his two friends.
Dejected faces sat mutely in the smoky tavern. Four of the five men were beyond the plains of exhaustion and sinking into the river of numb. Even whiskey didn't bury the deep-seeded pain they all felt. They'd tried, ridden farther and harder than humanly possible. Mile and mile, town after town, without any luck. Josiah thanked the sheriff and his men for their time. He sipped the whiskey slowly, letting the amber fluid burn a futile path. Ezra's eyes were trained on the youngest. J.D.'s smoldering glances were burning a hole through the back of their somber leader. The preacher followed the boy's gaze to just outside the batwing doors. He didn't have to see the blond's face to feel the pain that emanated there. Chris hadn't said a word since they arrived. He drained a single shot of whiskey, slammed the glass down and eyed them carefully.
"It's done." With that he turned and left them. He'd been in the doorway ever since, lost in a world of shattered promise.
The three elders had been mentally prepared for the decision. The chips were stacked against the ill-fated pair from the start. Vin trussed up and helpless, being led by an ex-marshal with a head injury through an unforgiving desert. At the end of the second day, Chris became withdrawn. With every passing empty mile, his heart hardened. The all realized how deeply he was grieving and how hard the decision to call off the search was but the broken-hearted sheriff had been irate. He screamed and flung himself at Chris, only to be intercepted by Nathan and Ezra. The healer and the gambler had tried to made him understand, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. Josiah raised a wary eye and J.D. belted down another shot of whiskey.
"You better slow down, Son," he warned.
"You best mind your own business Preacher." J.D. shot back, eyes hot. He glared at all of them, screaming inwardly. They didn't understand. How could they? They didn't know Buck like he did. They didn't need Buck like he did. It wasn't fair... finding Buck and losing him like this. How could they give up on Buck and Vin? He tossed back another shot and wiped his mouth of his sleeve. His heart ached and the liquor wasn't the comforting blanket he'd hoped. He glanced at the long faces, already defeated and shoved his chair back.
"To hell with all of you." He turned and headed for the leader. He didn't realize how much he'd consumed until his legs seemed not be be adjusting to the uneven floor. He stepped outside and confronted the gunslinger, not hiding his pain. "Especially you... it's your fault. You could have done something... The great Chris Larabee... you don't even care..." he eyed the impassive face, both fists clenched. His hazel eyes were burning and his rage built to a scorching climax. He drew his fist back and clipped Chris Larabee on the chin, with all his might. Chris staggered and fell on his knees. Suddenly, three bodies appeared, blocking the path between the two.
Chris's was cold, he never remembered feeling so cold. His insides were frozen, devoid of feeling of any kind. It was too new and too raw. Chris eyed the empty street, not able to fathom not hearing that soft Texan drawl again or see the mischievous blue eyes mocking him. No more booming Wilmington laughter and steady arm. He sighed and eyed the sky. Did they suffer? Dying of thirst was a horrible way to leave this world. He heard J.D.'s outburst and turned to regard the youngest. Buck would kick the kid's ass for acting up like this. He rubbed his aching jaw as Nathan approached. He put a single hand up, stopping the healer's progress. He stood, swiped the trickle of blood from his lip and grabbed the flushed face sheriff. His face remained impassive, but his green eyes were glowing. He clutched the dusty shirt and backed him against the wall. He leaned his face close and didn't hide his pain.
"You don't know a damn thing about me, J.D." He released the boy and strode away. J.D cringed and shook off Josiah's hand. He shoved off the wall and disappeared into the black night.
"Let him go." Nathan said, spotting Ezra's face. They all knew J.D. was hurting in a place they couldn't reach. "He needs more time to adjust."
Ezra didn't doubt that, he just didn't want the youth to do something rash, like riding out into the desert after Buck.
"I think I'll stretch my legs before retiring for the evening." The gambler brushed his jacket and adjusted his hat.
Nate and Josiah exchanged a sad smile and Josiah shook his head. He rested a hand on the scarlet jacket and gave a good squeeze.
"You're not the conman you think you are."
Ezra started to reply, but instead just smiled and ran his hand along his hat brim. He walked slowly up the street, following the path of the wayward sheriff.
J.D.'s legs felt like lead. It was too much and he didn't know how to handle it. The liquor only fueled his pain. It clawed at his insides, feral and fierce, trying to escape. He didn't stop until he was next to Annabelle, Buck's mighty gray bay. He stroked her neck and buried his face there. He didn't want to feel this pain. He didn't want to believe Vin and Buck were dead. His face screwed up as he thought of his best friend. He stumbled over to the far corner of the barn and slid down into the deep pile of hay. He grasped his arms around his knees and let the bitter tears fall. He rocked as the pain lanced through him. For all the terrible beauty of all that was and the bitter loss of all that could have been.
Fried chicken, that was what he felt like. His flesh was roasting in the relentless sun. Every limb ached and throbbed. He was soaked through and the sweat ran down his face and lean body like a river. The headache went beyond any he'd ever felt and his vision was blurry. Every painful breath was forced through the fire of his taped ribs. He raised his burning blue eyes and gauged the sun. It was nearing four p.m. and seemed like forever. He secured the last crate and slumped against the neat rows he'd unloaded. The job was done and not a minute too soon. He was covered from head to toe in filth from the stalls in the livery. Muck was mashed into his hair, skin and clothes. The heat of the sun only made things worse, creating an awful stench.
The sheriff lounged just outside under a large tree, drinking cool water. He spent the entire time ridiculing, insulting and abusing him verbally. Vin knew he was being tested and mentally shut down. He worked like drone, without thought or emotion. The louder the sheriff's lewd voice became, the colder Vin grew. He was too tired to walk and slid down onto the floor.
"Get up..."
"Go t'Hell..." Vin rasped, knowing a blow was coming and too worn out to care. The beefy fist clipped his chin, sending him sideways. The warehouse tilted at an odd angle and stars danced before him. He grunted as his hands were pulled harshly behind him and cuffed. He bit his lip as the large hand hauled him up by the hair and shoved him forward. He staggered and stumbled down the boardwalk, getting grimaces and looks of disgust from everybody on the street. His legs were like rubber and his throat parched. The street began to ripple and fade and he went down on his knees, just outside the jail. He felt the hand snatch his hair again and used what little strength he had left, to turn and bite the beefy paw.
"Fuckin' animal..." the sheriff yelped and slammed Tanner's head against the wall.
From the piano, a jaunty tune was heard and the bar was crowded. Friendly faces greeted him and warm hands slapped his back. A dark haired beauty was behind the counter and scowled at him. Buck felt his internal thermometer rise when he saw her. Voices called to him and he slowly turned. The voices were all muffled and he strained to hear. The large gray-haired man with the kind blue eyes handed him a beer. The dark-skinned man was laughing with the dark-haired kid, who was still wearing that damn bowler hat. The gambler's deft fingers were shuffling a deck of cards. Someone gripped his shoulder and he turned. A buckskin arm was lying on his forearm. He turned and where a face should be, was a bloody mask, with no features visible.
"No!"
Buck sat up and wrapped his trembling arms across his chest and rocked in the large bed. His face was covered in sweat and he was shivering uncontrollably. The nightmares were getting worse and pain that accompanied them was unbearable. He threw the quilt off and made his legs work. He poured water into the basin nearby and splashed his face and neck. He found the aspirin powder and liberally dumped it into the tin mug.He threw on his shirt and boots and found the stairs. The house was quiet and it was twilight outside. The deep blue that colors the sky just after pie and coffee. The vision of the bloody face and buckskin arm was tearing at his insides. His fears built to a crescendo and he ran from the doctor's house. He staggered to the jail and entered. It was empty. His heart sank and he staggered forward. He saw a body on the cot inside the cell and sighed. His shaky hands wiped the sweat the covered his face and his fingers were barely able to unlock the door.
"Tanner... Tanner..." He squinted in the dark and returned to the outer office for a lamp. Upon returning, his eyes confirmed what his nose was offended at. "What the hell..." He set the lamp down and his face screwed up in disgust. The young man was filthy, covered in manure, grime, mud and every other foul substance from a barn. His face was flushed, from fever or sun, it didn't matter to the irate lawman. This was the final straw. He brushed the mangy, matted grimy hair from the still face. A new bruise was coloring the jaw and a large lump was resting on the side of the head. His fingers barely grazed it and a sharp moan caused the head to turn.
"Marshall?"
Buck turned to see the kid... Andy? "What the hell happened?"
"What do mean?" Andy said, walking towards the cell.
Buck could read a liar a mile away and this youthful deputy was shell-shocked. There was no mistaking the horrified face that was stunned before him. "Get me some water... now!" he commanded and lifted the stench-ridden body up. He slapped the red cheeks of the unconscious man and saw the brows furrow. That was a good sign.
"Tanner, wake up... come on, open them blue eyes... Tanner get up!" he said harshly, slapping the face a little harder and getting a groan.
Vin was exhausted. The fierce voice that turned into a growl was bothering him. He knew who was torturing him, only one person growled like that.
"Fuck off, Larabee..." he grunted and tried to roll over.
Buck froze and let go, allowing the smaller man to fall against him. Larabee? Chris Larabee... the kid was semi-conscious... he couldn't make that up. He did know Chris. He jumped as a vision slapped before his pained eyes. Chris smiling, warmth oozing from his green eyes... at... at... the picture broadened and he was beside Chris, then another face appeared next to his old friend... Tanner's.
"What the hell..." he whispered, trembling all over as the pain flared again.
"Marshall Wilmington, I'm real sorry. I was on patrol, I didn't... Marshall?" Andy saw the same blank look the mustached man had earlier and quickly strode to his side. He lightly touched the linen shoulder and the large man jumped.
"Wha... uh..." Buck shook himself and saw the youth's concern. He nodded and took the mug of water. Turning back to his charge, he nudged the parched lips. "Open up and drink... Tanner, You hear me? I got some water..."
Like a starving infant seeking nourishment, the touch of the tin to the parched lips roused the slumped figure. He drank greedily and Buck pulled the cup away. "Cut that out, you'll get sick. This is the only shirt I got, slow and easy," he warned and saw a blue eye peel open as the water disappeared.
The blackness dissolved and the room grew clearer. Vin's eyes widened in relief when he saw Buck's face. He reached a hand out and touched it, needed to assure himself he wasn't dreaming.
"Buck... Buck... I thought the bastard killed ya... Oh God... " Vin sighed, laying his aching head against the broad chest.
Buck's heart clenched so tight he felt sure he was having a heart attack. The cup wobbled in his hand and the deputy took it to refill. Buck couldn't speak. There was no mistaking the emotion and deep worry in the soft drawl. The lean body that rested so trustingly against him was gasping in relief. Buck didn't like the feelings he was overwhelmed with... not one bit. He'd been hunting down and locking up criminals for sometime. He never experienced this before.
"He's out again..."
"What?" Buck whispered, blinking and noticing the deputy squatting and touching Tanner's face. Suddenly Buck felt a strength building inside, growing and giving him the fight he needed. "Help me get him over to the Doc's."
"What are you going to do?" Andy asked, lifting the filthy prisoner's legs.
"I'm gonna clean him up, you're gonna find him some new clothes and then I'm taking him the hell outta of this damn town."
"That all?"
"No," Buck snarled as they crossed the street. His blue eyes turned to flint and his voice carried a razor's edge. "I'm coming back to send that son-of-a-bitch sheriff straight to Hell."
"What happened?" Jack O'Conner saw them coming and opened the door.
"That fuckin' excuse for a lawman made his last sorry mistake." Buck vowed, venom dripping from every word. "Fill the tub with tepid water." He waited for the old man to leave. Tanner was now resting on the examination table in the physician's office. Buck started to peel the filthy, mucky clothes off him.
"The Padre has some clothes in the basement of the church." Andy said. "I'll leave your horses just outside the churchyard. It's dark there. Don't take too long, he'll be back by midnight."
Buck nodded and watched the young deputy leave. He tossed the refuse-marred clothing into a pile and put it out the side door of the office. Returning to Tanner, he winced at the scars lining the lean mans body and wrapped him in a sheet. He saw the old man return, looking sheepish.
"You got something to say?"
"Johnny was afraid this would happen again."
"Again?" Buck's voice rose as he pulled the silent prisoner upright. The mangy head flopped against him and he saw the old man wince.
"Every time a lawman passes through and drops a prisoner off... well... they never make it for the wagon to pick 'em up. There's usually an 'accident' of some kind and he hires somebody to take the body for the reward."
"And you let him get away with this?" Buck's voice rose in incredulation. "What kind of town is this?"
"A scared one... " The old man admitted. "He took that boy outta the cell around ten. I heard folks sayin' he worked him like a dog. Made him clean out every stall on his hands and knees. Then he made him load freight in the sun... no hat or cover... no water. He made sure Johnny was out of town. He's the only one who defies him. I'm sorry... " the gnarled hand trembled as it brushed the long hair from the sleeping young man's face. "Let's get this boy cleaned up... "
The water was refilled twice and Buck gently washed every bit of grim, filth and animal dung from the now clean body. He frowned as the dry lips parted and small moans snuck out. Twice the blue slits appeared, darting frantically until they saw him. The look of trust and the restful sighs produced gave him another pain in his chest. He carefully dried the long hair, wary of the lump on the still silent man's head. The deputy returned with clothes and immediately jumped in to help. With Andy's help, he lifted Tanner from the tub, dried him off, wrapped his ribs and leg and dressed him. Before he could ask, Jack appeared with burn salve. Buck smiled and used a soft touch, rubbing the ointment on the red neck, chest and face. Finally, they sat the sleeping man in a chair and Buck slumped at the table nearby. His head dropped onto his folded arms, resting on the table.
"Sorry, Marshall, you don't have time for a nap now. You best toss this stew down and get moving. You can get a good leg up... two hours or more before he misses you."
"Thanks Andy." Buck nodded, "I'll make sure the Judge knows what you've done. I'm grateful." He shook the boy's hand. "I need a gun..."
"Rifle in the scabbard on the horse, cartridges in the saddle bag, food and three canteens." He issued, handing Buck his holster and pistol.
"Damn..." Buck smiled, "I'll need bandages and some liniment..." He made short work of the stew. "Give me a hand..." He nodded to Tanner. He paused and shook the old man's hand. "Thanks, Old Timer... for everything. You tell your boy I'm grateful... he's a helluva doctor."
"Good luck, Son." Jack said, watching them disappear out the back door.
"Tanner, wake up!" Buck hissed, as they eased the groggy man onto a horse. Buck stuck the new hat on the shaggy head. The head rose reluctantly, the brows furrowed in anger and the remained closed. "Tanner, we're leaving... wake up..." Buck slapped him, the body jerked and the eyes shot open.
Vin stiffened and looked around. He fingered the clean clothes and his hand went to his aching head. His hair was clean and he didn't smell. He realized the dream had been real, Buck did rescue him. He eyed the anxious face peering up at him. He gripped the tense shoulder and drilled the concerned eyes.
"Thanks, Marshal..."
Buck jerked as if the hand on his shoulder were made of flames. They scorched his chest cavity and raced through his body. The soft drawl almost undid him. He couldn't tear away from the pale eyes that were reflecting in the moonlight. Another dark night came into his mind... sitting by a fire... the light eyes full of fear and despair... and shame. He shook it off and nodded, patting the clean tan jeans.
"You okay to ride?" he managed.
"To Hell and back..." Vin grinned, seeing the white teeth briefly before Buck climbed onto his horse.
"Let's go."
As the pair rode off, Andy felt something inside that made him seem taller. He couldn't help thinking how proud he'd be to ride by Marshal Wilmington's side. They didn't come any finer... of that he was sure. He turned and walked back to the jail, unaware of the leering sheriff who was watching the whole episode from a darkened window. Andy didn't hear the lewd laugh as the evil sheriff counted the money he'd be getting shortly.
Like an elusive woman, the full moon teased them, jutting out just beyond their reach. Her illuminating hand was a steady guide. Vin felt an awful coldness inside and reined his horse in. Something wasn't right. It was too easy, too convenient. The prickles on his skin and the tightening of his gut told him so. Buck drew around also, eyeing the prisoner.
"We gotta head back t'Four Corners." Vin stated, answering the silent question posed by his friend
Buck didn't reply at first. He expelled a deep breath and weighed his convictions. He took the role he wore seriously as well as the ramifications that went with it. This young man who sat silently before him, was wanted for murder. Although Buck had an unexplainable feeling that Tanner was innocent, his duty was to the star. He'd mulled it over the other night, thinking on the large blue eyes that haunted his sleep. He'd stand by Tanner, find a judge and get to the truth. But there was something in the conviction of that last request that drew his attention.
"I'm listenin'..."
"It's a trap."
Buck didn't have to respond to the certainty in Tanner's voice, he felt it too. With every mile they'd covered, an icy tension stroked his spine. Tanner's words the night he'd been beaten now whispered to him. That the sheriff wanted the bounty money and didn't want any witnesses in town. So he would lie in wait and ambush the pair on the road to Texas, no witnesses. He trotted over to Tanner and nodded. Silently, they turned and headed for the road that would lead them west.
It was a cold night in the desert and Buck eyed the bulky shirt on the body ahead of him. Tanner didn't seem to feel the biting wind. For some reason, the lawman got a feeling that this wide-open space was the prisoner's home. He got the impression that the younger man thrived on the wilderness. They'd not spoken in the three hours since they'd turned around. So when the loud Texan's curse permeated the air, he stiffened, then slid off his mount.
"Fuck." Vin jumped from his horse. He gripped the saddlehorn, wincing as the full impact of his weight was thrust harshly on his injured leg. He limped over to the large pile of rocks and debris that littered the road.
"Rockslide..." Buck hissed, gripping his tense hips. He laid a hand on the downcast shoulder of the other man. "You know this area... is there any other way to..."
"No," Vin spat, curling his lips in disgust. "Bastards knew what the hell they was doin'... figured we head this way. Shit..." he winced as the sunburn mocked him too.
Buck didn't miss the painful hiss and the hand touching the scorched face. He rummaged in Tanner's saddlebag and drew out the ointment. "Here... rub some on your face."
"I'm fine." Vin denied, kicking a small pile of rocks at his feet. He was forced onto a large rock and scowled at the face looming over him.
"Easy way or hard way," Buck warned, "Don't make no never mind to me."
Vin recognized the wall in front of him was not about to move. He held his hand out and took a small amount of the cooling ointment. Gingerly, he rubbed his face and shoulders, they hurt the most. He took the canteen offered and drank a little. "Thanks... didn't meant to sound ungrateful."
"See that you don't make it a habit." Buck scoffed, eyes softening.
Vin turned and took a deep breath. It had to come out, he hadn't had a free moment with Buck since they'd arrived, leastwise none he was conscious for.
"Look, this is gonna sound crazy, but ya gotta hear me out." He paused and saw Buck's head rise. "We was ridin' back from Salerno when the Alvarez gang ambushed us... ya got an onry crease in yer head... it messed up yer memory, it's the truth."
"We?" Buck frowned, shaking his head, "As in you and me?"
"...and Chris. We live in Four Corners. We work fer Judge Travis, keepin' the peace. Nathan Jackson, Josiah Sanchez, Ezra Standish... course he don't ever break a sweat," Vin paused and a burst of fresh sneezes interrupted his mission. "... damn..." he wheezed. "...and J.D. Dunne, he's the sheriff and..." His thought was cut off by the audible hiss from the body next to him. "Buck? Ya okay?" He asked, but saw the blank expression and cursed inwardly.
Buck shivered, not from the cool desert night air, but from the one known as Tanner and the words he'd spoken. He rolled the names over and over again in his mind, but each one brought nothing but pain. It built up and he eyed the pile of rocks and the bruised body before him. Again he wondered at the overwhelming message that started from deep inside. He pressed a hand to his temple trying to make the pain go away.
"...protect him... protect him..."
"Ya alright, Bu... Marshal." Vin eyed the tremble with caution. Pressing Buck's memory now would only hurt him more. He couldn't afford Buck to black out now, not with danger lurking.
"Huh..." Buck blinked, not missing the soft concerned voice. "Yeah... so what now? I've only been this far over once. Seems I recall a river..."
"Yeah..." Vin got to his feet and limped back to his horse. He tied the canteen and eyed the shadowy horizon. "Be daybreak when we get there. Once we cross, we can head through Apache Pass."
"That's not real comforting," Buck admitted, climbing on his horse. Both knew the harsh stretch of land between Apache Pass and the nearest town. Two days with the right supplies would be hard enough on a seasoned traveler. But they weren't adequately prepared and... "I don't like it..."
"Me neither," Vin heard the apprehension in Buck's voice clearly, "But we ain't got much choice." He turned the horse and fell in beside Buck. With an exchanged nod of understanding, they started off.
Duke Nelson fixed his eye to the scope. Ever the predator, he'd sensed his victims were close. He could feel it... years of experience led to the telltale clench in his gut. He shifted in the rocky outgroup, perched high above the road. He kept his eye trained and waited. A small smile crept on his face as the specks appeared.
"Like takin' candy from a baby..." he murmured, already counting his money.
The meager breakfast went down fast, with fresh water from the river. The horses were rested and the canteens refilled. Buck sighed and eyed the horse, not wanting to move. His head was pounding beyond belief and Tanner didn't look much better. The young man hadn't uttered a complaint, not that he expected it. The kid was tough and Buck admired that. There was something about his quiet confidence that Buck liked. Sighing, he followed Tanner's lead and headed to the horse. They resumed their trek in silence and the hours slid past. Buck thought on Tanner's words about Four Corners. The blinding pain caught him off guard and he cried out, clasping his head and dropping to his knees. The image was worse this time... another morning by a strange river. Chris was there, near the fire. A figure was huddled in a hide coat, desperately sick. Buck was holding the retching form, the long hair was all too familiar. Just as quickly as it came, it vanished.
Vin saw Buck fall and with lightning speed, he was at his side. He grabbed the body and flinched as the agonized cries drilled into him. Buck was on his knees, bent forward, gripping his head and groaning through clenched teeth. Vin latched on and pulled him close, not knowing what else to do.
"Easy, Buck... yer okay, I gotcha."
Through the red haze, the soft drawl was like a graceful torrent of rain, squelching the fire. He coughed and sputtered, fighting his way out of the painful dayvision. He felt the strong arms around him and relaxed, sagging and gulping air. He felt the hand on his back, lending strong strokes of support. He nodded once and shook free.
"I'm okay, Tanner... thanks... .was thinking about them names..."
Vin flinched and pushed any attempts at bringing back Buck's memory out of his mind. It wasn't worth the agony his friend was suffering. Nor could he afford Buck to collapse out here. He gripped Buck's extended forearm and hauled him up.
Buck let the smaller man help him up and saw unbridled anguish in the pale eyes. Why was this kid so attached to him? Hell, he'd bound him up, dragged him into a hellhole of a jail and let him get beat to a pulp. He should be angry, he could have ridden off... Buck didn't understand. He sighed and climbed on the horse, the questions still running rampant in his mind. Hours went by and expanse of desert stretched before them. The visions kept assaulting him and the pain flared again. He was still muddling those thoughts, when he heard Tanner scream and felt the other's horse brush his forcefully. A hand sent him sideways, just as a shot rang out.
Vin felt it in his blood, as soon as they entered the pass. His skin prickled, fueled by years of knowledge. Like a deer on the hunt, his drew his horse in and jerked his head up. His nose tilted, scenting the killer. His eyes traveled quickly around the perimeter, aiming high. There it was... just a glimmer of sun against the metal. He moved on instinct, and shoved Buck's horse hard.
"Ambush!" he screamed, throwing his body against Buck's. He landed hard on top of the larger man's back and buried his face as bullets rained down. Suddenly he realized Buck wasn't moving. He ran his right hand down Buck's side and felt the blood pooling. His deft fingers found a moist section of shirt on the stilled lawman's side. "Shit..." he swore, eyeing the barren landscape. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The shooting stopped and he froze, weighing his options. Play possum... He pressed his hand into Buck's side and heard the sharp cry. "Sorry..." he hushed, his lips close to Buck's ear. He began rubbing his hair and face with Wilmington's blood, covering as much as he could. He pulled Buck's knife from the hip holster and slid it between their bodies. He heard the footsteps of the hunter. He held his breath and waited. Then the killer's hand touched his shoulder.
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