Setting: OW
Disclaimer: The following is a work of fanfiction based on the CBS television series, The Magnificent Seven. It is in no way intended to infringe on the copyrights of CBS, MGM, The Trilogy Entertainment Group, The Mirisch Corp., or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters, settings or song references. I don't own the characters. This story is strictly for entertainment. No monetary gain will be made from anything contained in this story.
As the long ribbon of road ahead of him got considerably shorter, Nathan Jackson's dark eyes scanned the growing field of vision. He saw the horses first, recognizing Buck Wilmington's gray right off. Then he saw the tall man waving frantically. His heart began to pound and his thoughts raced wildly.
Something was very wrong.
"Who? How bad?" he called out, reining his horse in and sliding off, his hand going for the soft leather satchel tied to the pommel.
"It's Vin, Nathan," Buck began.
Before the healer could question the eerie toneless voice that came from a face filled with internal pain, another voice piped up. It was as loud as the mustached man's was quiet.
"Vin's dead!"
"Wh... what?"
The words shook him to the core and halted his movement. For a few seconds, the only thing that moved was the sweat pouring down the racing rider's face. He swiped at the errant flow and let his gaze shift to the rogue.
"Buck?"
Buck dipped his head once and then motioned to where the road declined into a short but steep hill. He heard the river racing by and moved forward, his legs willing what his heart didn't want to see.
The sight rocked him back on his heels.
Vin Tanner's limp body was lying inside Chris Larabee's fortress. One look at the gunslinger's face told him that no one would be taking the tracker from him anytime soon. As he studied every anguished feature on the leader's face, he felt his own grief building. Funny, he couldn't remember the last time he spoke to Vin. They'd all eaten supper together a few days back, just before he and Josiah left for the village. He sighed heavily and turned away; the pain in the pale green eyes was too hard to bear.
"What happened?" He asked, listening to the explanation while looking for the quickest route down the hill to Vin Tanner.
"It all happened so fast, Nate," Buck replied, sighing heavily and rubbing the back of his neck. "You know several towns have been robbed in the last couple months. Same gang, five men and they get away clean. Well, a fire broke out last night down by the livery..."
"The clinic's okay, Nathan... just real smoky..." J.D. blurted.
"Anyhow," Buck continued, "while we were fighting the fire, the freight office was robbed. The safe was loaded, over ten grand. We think it's the same gang. Somehow, in all the confusion, we missed Vin."
"We picked up their tracks from the freight office and followed them..." J.D. continued. "We saw... He was tied up... hurt... in the water... he didn't see..."
"Somehow, we're not quite sure where Vin was when the fire started," Buck broke in. "Vin got tangled up with the robbers. Could be he was out of town and heading back, saw them leaving..."
"...or he saw them bust in and they took him..." J.D. offered, "but I don't think so. Why would they do that?"
"It doesn't matter," Wilmington sighed. "His hands were tied behind him. He was trying to get away. Chris was the closest, dead set on getting to him. The first shot got his head, sent him in the water. It looked like... for a minute... that was the shot that killed him..."
"But his head came up," Dunne recalled, dark eyes shifting. "Chris was screaming at him... he was looking for Chris... trying to keep his balance in the water on his knees... then... then... a second... shot...."
"He never knew what hit him," Buck lamented. "It caught him in the back, high up. Chris..."
Nathan understood that part of the story. One word. Chris. He couldn't imagine the pain that man was wrestling with. He turned away, studying the blue sky and the trees. On any given day, they would find Vin here, soaking up the sun and enjoying Mother Nature's bounty. He thought of another day when a soft-drawling stranger dropped a broom and picked up a rifle. If not for Vin Tanner, he'd not be standing here.
"Are yuh sure?"
"Chris said... so..." J.D. stammered.
"I'd like to check 'im tah be sure," Nathan noted, turning toward the hill.
You wouldn't think one word could feel like an elephant sitting on your chest. The wounded man tried to form his lips to utter a second word, but he couldn't. It hurt to breathe. It hurt like hell. Cold. He was so terribly cold and his body began to shiver.
Chris froze. He didn't dare move. He was almost afraid to check. Had his mind been playing tricks? He licked his lips and felt his heart begin to hammer against his chest, so much so that it caused a sharp pain. Was he hearing things? Had he been so lost in thought that he imagined that raspy whisper?
What the hell's wrong? Why were they squattin' in water? Why was Chris shaking so badly? Why were those long arms holding him so tight? His throbbing skull was making it difficult to stay awake. The crushing pain in his back and chest made it so hard to breathe. Air. Air. There was no air.
"Chris, let me at 'im."
Nathan set his bag down and waited a few feet away, watching the blond's face melt into a curious mixture of fear, loss and hope. Chris was kneeling in the mud, sitting on his heels, with Tanner draped across his legs. The tracker's upper body was lying against the gunslinger's left chest and arm. Nate watched the right hand move then from where it held Tanner pressed against that strong chest. The tangled crimson-tinged head lolled against the gunman's left arm as the trembling fingers moved towards the pale throat. That hand, one he'd seen clenched in anger, curled in defiance and skillfully brandishing a Colt, now moved the long locks of hair from Vin Tanner's face with a gentleness that took his very breath away.
"Chris, lay 'im out now, I want to have a look."
Who is that? Through the pulsating red pain that consumed him, he pressed hard for an answer. A deep voice, rich and warm. A picture came through the mud in his skull. A pair of warm brown eyes in a dark face with a beautiful smile. Nathan. Nathan was here. Maybe Nathan could help him breathe. Nathan. Nathan. What was that? Fingers pushing on his neck. Too hard. Can't breathe. Don't, Chris. Can't... can't...
"Jesus!"
Chris's whole body jerked when two blue eyes peeled open and blinked up at him. A monstrous rush of fear, frustration and shock consumed him. "Goddammit Vin!"
Nathan found a half smile then as that familiar bellow caused the wounded man's eyes to soften and a smile to form on the bluish lips. A deep sigh of relief managed to squeeze through them. Then he watched that slim hand flopping in the water while the blue eyes never left Larabee's face. The hand flopped and jerked, fingers weakly flexing and scratching at damp cloth pressed to the gunslinger's chest. His eyes shifted from those warm blue ones to the cool greens. Without breaking that sky-eyed gaze, Larabee's hand moved. It left that throat, briefly extending just fingertips against the square jaw, before moving south and grabbing that trembling hand. It was a picture that took all his words away and left a large lump in his throat.
"Hey... hey..." Buck called down, having moved at the sound of Larabee's shout. Like the healer, he too was moved by the picture below. "Hey, kid, come 'ere..."
"Not now, Buck. I can't..."
"No, you need to see..." Buck whipped his head around, grinning. "He ain't dead!'
"What?"
"Look!" Wilmington gripped Dunne's shoulders hard and pointed below. "Isn't that the most beautiful shade of blue you EVER did see?" he noted, his own eyes fixed on the emotive stare Tanner gave Larabee.
"But... how...?"
"Hell if I know," Buck grunted, eyeing the steep hill. "Hell if I care, come on!"
"Chris, we need tah move 'im out of the water. We'll lay 'im out flat, then I'm gonna tip him over. Yuh hold onto 'im and I'll look at his back... Chris? Yuh hear me?"
"...than... na...th..."
"Right here, Vin. Yuh cain't let me get a few days off, huh?"
"...mis...sed... ya..."
"I can see that!" Nathan gently gripped Chris's shoulder and the tense body jerked. "Ease 'im over, okay?"
"Yeah..." Chris managed, feeling totally and utterly gutted like fresh kill.
Between the two of them, they gently moved Vin several feet to a shaded area near a tree and a cluster of rocks. Nathan was on Vin's right, gently placing one hand on the slim man's hip and the other on his shoulder.
"Vin?" Chris panicked when the eyes he'd just seen open closed again.
"...shoutin' fer...?"
"Get your eyes open!"
"...rabid... fuck... in... dog..." Vin frowned of the growl but got his eyes open. "Nate... sick..."
"I know, Vin, I won't be long."
As the body tipped towards the gunslinger, both his arms moved, one hand on the hip, the other under Vin's head. He watched Nathan take his knife out and slowly begin to cut the damp fabric of Vin's shirt. Chris saw the weak upper body jerk and lifted Vin's head a bit as his stomach emptied.
Vin's head felt like a sledgehammer was being slammed into it and his chest felt crushed, precious little air making its way inside. He fought a losing battle with the horrid nausea and was barely aware of Chris wiping his mouth and nose. But it was the cold that told him. It was a new cold, one he'd not ever felt before. It was not the cold of the air on a winter's morn under a crisp blue sky. It wasn't the cold after a drenching storm or the cold of an early autumn without a warm overcoat. It was then that the unfamiliar chill bore a name. He lifted his pained eyes past the damp fabric of Larabee's pants and greeted Death.
"...ris...?"
"Easy, cowboy," Larabee soothed, watching the silver blade move through wet cloth. "Just a few more minutes. Hold on..."
He couldn't wait. He needed to see those green eyes. He had to make sure Larabee understood. He didn't know how long those cold fingers would stroke him before clamping onto his heart for good. God, it was hard to breathe. Blood ran down his face causing his eyes to burn.
"...hurts... ris... eyes..."
"Okay, Vin." Chris put Vin's head down briefly and saw the problem.
"Here," Buck offered, reaching over Nathan. He and J.D. were standing behind the healer.
"Thanks, Buck." Chris took the kerchief and wiped Vin's face.
Then the hand came up, snagging his wrist. That's when Chris saw it. Something nothing could have prepared him for. The eyes that normally were bright with anger, soft with emotion or lit up with animation were utterly and totally void. A coldness crept into his chest, gripping his heart and wrenching it hard.
"No...!"
"Yeah..." Vin countered the awful broken word the grief-stricken man managed. His hand tightened on the wrist holding the cloth. "Last... call... cowboy..."
"Fuck that!" Chris denied. "Nathan's here now. He'll..."
"I'm dyin', Chris."
"Nathan, tell him," Chris began and then his words died when the healer's face shook negatively. "Oh, God...!" He slumped, closing his eyes and feeling incredibly dizzy. He heard movement and felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. He knew, by the touch, for how many times had he felt that grip?
>From his stance behind Larabee, Buck let his gaze fall downward. He watched those amazingly lucid eyes peer up at him through a bloody veil on skin too pale. They blinked rapidly, seeking him out. He dipped down a bit as the short ride they'd shared too briefly sailed by in a misted blur of time and space. He watched the eyes darting and felt every rapid breath that escaped. He sucked his own breath in, past his wavering heart and drew up those words. He needed Vin to hear it, one last time.
"You look like shit, Vin!" Buck managed in a small voice while keeping vigil at Chris's back.
The tracker's breathing slowed then, and he strained hard, seeking out the face. The warmth of those words pushed Death's icy grip away for a bit. He let that warmth invade him and he floated in a sea of emotion. His lips trembled as he fought hard to find the refrain. A half dozen words... hell, he could do that. How hard could it be? He pushed and fought, taking several small breaths, and finally let them sail free.
"...fuck... yer... sor... ry... hide... t'hell..." Vin coughed, wildly sucking air.
Dammit, he needed one more word. Just one more. He had to say it; he needed to hear it as much as he needed Buck to embrace it. A word that meant a lot to him every time he said it and then saw those dark blue eyes crinkle in amusement. A good man, a strong man, a man he was proud to ride with. He had to find that word, one last time. He had to let Buck Wilmington know just how deeply he felt. He gasped several times and curled his tongue up, pressing it out with a good burst of air.
"Buck...lin..."
That hurt, more than he ever thought one word could. Wasn't it just yesterday the wise-pranking Texan had christened him that? It was a nickname reserved only for Tanner and one that warmed his heart every time that scratchy voice found cause to call him. Suddenly, forever seemed like a long damn time. He'd not hear that call again. God, how that hurt! Buck felt his guts ripping and he swiped his damp eyes.
"No exit, Chris."
Nathan's grim voice only confirmed what the leader already knew. He raised his empty eyes upward and saw those brown ones reaching out to him.
"Yuh saw the hole, yuh know then," Nathan continued and saw Larabee dip his damp head once. "It's gotta be in his heart, he's bleedin' out inside, that's why he can't breathe."
"...up... Nate... air..."
"Yeah, Vin, that's a good idea," he agreed. "Okay, Chris, I'm gonna lift 'im up. Yuh scoot behind him and I'll ease 'im against yuh. It'll help him breathe, make 'im more comfortable."
Chris nodded mutely and rejected the words. More comfortable? That's not what he wanted for Vin. He wanted him sassy and spittin' fire. He wanted to see that hot-headed temper in action. He wanted to see that lithe body vaulting across the rooftops, gun in hand and whooping it up. He wanted to share another sunset like that first one in the Indian village. He wanted tomorrow.
"Chris?" Buck prompted, watching Nathan gently take Vin from the numb gunslinger's slack grip and roll him onto his back. "Go on..." He shoved a hand between the shoulder blades and the body moved, shifting to a sitting position against a large rock.
When Vin's head hit his shoulder and that weak, warm breath danced across his neck, Nathan Jackson almost wept. He eased one broad hand up and cradled Vin's head a moment, saying a prayer.
"S'okay, doc," Vin rasped, feeling the healing hand tremble.
"I told yuh," Nate choked up, "I ain't no damn doctor!"
"...no damn... paper... with fancy scratchin's... proves... thing..." Vin struggled, grasping air and seeking words. "...seen God workin'... his Grace in... in... yer touch..."
"God!" Buck whispered in awe as Nathan's eyes filled. The former Union stretcher bearer was too moved to speak. So he spoke with those hands, gently rocking Vin against him for a moment before easing him down against Chris Larabee.
As soon as the damp body hit his chest, Chris's arms reacted automatically, wrapping around the weakened form. He wanted to give Vin as much warmth as he could for whatever time they had left. The bloody head rested just under his chin and the face moved. One limp hand fluttered and landed badly, flopping over his own.
"Thanks... cow... boy..." Vin sighed heavily, letting himself melt into the embrace of his brother. He took his glance up to Buck and then Nathan. J.D. was somewhere nearby. He was sorry he wouldn't get the chance to say goodbye to Ezra and Josiah. But if he had to die, being in the bosom of your brothers wasn't a bad place.
Nathan pushed his grief away and let his natural healing instincts take over. The blood running down the Texan's face had slowed up somewhat. But it still ran down into his eyes, causing him to blink. He felt a pang of guilt, wondered that if making Vin 'comfortable' wasn't cheating somehow. After all, he was supposed to be a healer, a restorer of health.
"Buck, wet that cloth. I'm gonna clean up his head wound. J.D., get me some bandages so I can..."
"No, I gotta boil the water so you can clean your tools," Dunne denied, unable to move any closer to where the Grim Reaper was shining his scythe over Vin Tanner's bloodied body. "We got time. You gotta try..."
"Listen to me, J.D.!" Nate stood and towered over the confused youth. "Even in a hospital with a good surgeon, he'd be a million to one shot. Look at him, J.D., he's sufferin' and weak. Yuh want me tah hurt 'im? Yuh know what cuttin' inta 'im now will do? He's got a right to spend what time he's got left as peaceful as he can... I'm sorry, J.D., there's nothin' anyone can do now, except God."
"Kid?" Vin's heavy eyes wouldn't open. "...there...?"
"Go on!" Buck shoved him, handing the cloth to Nathan.
"Thanks, Buck."
"What's wrong with you? He's dyin', J.D., he needs to say goodbye. Don't hurt him any worse," Wilmington ordered the flustered youth.
Chris eyed the youngest from the corner of his eye as Nathan cleaned the blood from Tanner's head, neck and face. Had he ever been that young? He was only a few years older than Dunne when he'd worn Union blue and saw his own friends blown away right before his eyes. The first time it hurt like hell. It was almost surreal. You went numb or got sick or both. Seeing the large doe-eyes full of angry denial took him back in time to the blood-stained battlefields in Virginia.
"Leave 'im be, Buck," he addressed. "Get the bandages."
"No... piss... cat..." Vin teased as the cloth went around his head.
"How 'bout some whiskey instead?" Nate asked. "Could be I have some of Standish's finest tucked away."
"Ezra?" Vin sighed heavily, seeing the grinning, gold-toothed gambler flash into his head. He curled a fist up and fought hard again, unable to say goodbye. "Ya tell... ya tell that no-account... cheatin' bastard... ya tell 'im..."
"I will, Vin." Nathan saw the raw pain in the blue eyes, both from the pain of loss and the severe head wound. "I saw some meadowsweet and willow bark back yonder. It'll help with his pain and settle his stomach some."
"Get going!" Chris agreed.
"I'll be back as quick as I can," he promised, tapped Vin's hand and departed.
"Buck, get some water. Use that bottle," Chris directed of the empty whiskey bottle lying by the water's edge.
"Look, kid, I know where you are," Buck noted in a softer voice, watching the anger and confusion covering Dunne like a heavy cloak. "I've been there. I know it hurts... hurts like hell. But you're gonna have to trust me on this one, J.D. If you don't say goodbye to him, you'll regret it forever. You don't get a second chance. He needs this, J.D..."
"It hurts."
"I know." Buck stood up. The bottle was full and he gripped the back of the struggling younger man's neck. "Get yourself together and come over, okay?"
"Yeah."
"Chris?" Vin whispered, tipping his head back and trying to find Larabee.
"Yeah?"
"...ye'll stay... 'til... m'ride... gets here?"
That hurt, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. It was a request so poignant that it burned a hole right through him. The last ride. No one wanted to die alone. It was such a simple request, yet it rendered him unable to reply. Vin Tanner never asked more of him than an open hand. From the moment he took that hand, his whole world changed. All the man wanted was his word. He didn't want to die alone.
"...see... ya...?" Vin's brow furrowed, eyes darting.
"Hold on." Buck dropped down. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"
J.D. froze in his tracks, horrified that Buck would say something like that. Then he saw Vin's face melt into a smile and heard that familiar laugh. He swallowed hard when Buck held that bottle and let Vin drink.
"Sloppy drinker to boot," Wilmington noted as some of the water spilled down Tanner's chin. "Hold on..." He wiped the excess. "Chris, let me take him, he needs to see your face."
This was it, a moment he couldn't face. He froze and shook his head over Vin's droopy one, but Buck's eyes blazed into him. Chris turned away, ignoring the glare from that damned scythe the Grim Reaper was waving.
The final goodbye.
Chris Larabee wasn't ready. Instead of relinquishing his grip, he held on even tighter. Damn them all to hell. He wouldn't do it... until one word cracked his defenses.
"...please..."
"Shit!"
"Come on." Buck tapped Larabee's lean leg and eased Vin up, hugging him until the blond moved. Then Chris supported him until Buck got behind and took him back.
"...dammit... like... some cheap... whore... bein' passed... the fuck... around..."
"You oughta be that lucky," Buck teased, wrapping his arms around the shivering body. "It ain't just anybody I let snuggle up."
Vin sighed contentedly, took several minutes to catch his breath, and let his head slide against Buck's shoulder. His nose wrinkled and he frowned.
"Ya stink... rite... good..."
"Yeah, well, had I known you were checkin' out, Vin, I'd have taken a bath."
"Buck!" J.D. gasped, numbed by the dark humor. Yet again, he saw Vin laugh and force his eyes open.
"S'okay... Bucklin..." Vin chased back. "... wouldn't be... same... jest right... smell... cheap whiskey and... cheaper women..."
"At least I got women to bestow my love on..."
"...jealous..." Vin touted. "...ya ain't got m'boys... legend..."
"Legend?" Buck scoffed. "Them damn boys of yours..."
"Texas growed..." Vin added proudly with a wet cough. He felt the rumble of Buck's laughter being born and drank in that wonderful sound.
"You got me there, Tex!" Buck agreed. "Chris, the bottle..."
"Chris..." Vin managed after taking a drink.
Vin stared as hard as he could into the lost green eyes. That hurt, more than his mortal wounds did. To see such agony rippling where pride should be. Didn't Chris know that? How since they first met, he stood taller? How could he ever thank him for that? What words could ever paint a picture that fine? This man had given him his soul back. Vin swallowed hard. How could he say goodbye?
Chris heard the silent thoughts easily. He read every fuckin' letter in those damned eyes that were burning a hole right through him. The air seemed to be charged and time stood still. He saw only those blue eyes and heard a roar of thunder in his ears. He saw the bluish lips part as the final request was born. Something so simple and yet so rare. Something he would give Tanner with all he had or die trying. He knew before the voice uttered it.
"Word?" Vin asked with wide wet eyes, sending all his emotions in one burning gaze.
"Word!" Chris vowed, snapping onto the forearm that lifted weakly to meet his own. Vin Tanner wouldn't die alone.
"I got a spot picked out... under that big tree... near the creek by yer place. Ya know that spot?"
"I do." Chris studied the face now, seeing the tension leave. "Damn, I was hoping to put crops in there..."
"...wise... fuckin'... ass..." Vin managed, coughing again and grateful for Buck's strong arms to hold him up.
Chris saw the blue light reappear once the request was granted. That was all the tracker needed to hear to reassure him. No man wanted to die alone. He met that gaze and nodded once. "I'll take care of it."
"Good," Vin decided, snuggling back against Wilmington. "Bucklin?"
"Yeah, Slick?"
"Ya make sure... Ezra... takes... south... pass... back ... from... from... Clairmont."
"Clairmont?" Buck frowned. "Oh, where that casino is? The one that he hits once a week?"
"...takes... shortcut... by Lar'bees... drinks... fancy... shit..." He paused, screwed his face up. "...don't cotton t'havin'... him pissin' on... m'head."
Buck laughed long and hard then and saw Chris's lips turn up briefly.
"Flowers... ya make sure..."
"I ain't planting flowers. That's all I need to have some fool see me with flowers..." Chris grumbled.
"...be ...sorry... haunt... ya..."
Twice Buck's eyes strayed to where J.D. stood shifting his feet. Twice Buck's eyes drilled the younger man's, cursing him.
"B...uc...k..."
"Yeah, Vin?"
"Take... boots..."
"Vin, I can't take..." Buck began, the very thought of removing something from Vin Tanner's corpse chilled him to the core.
"...won't... need 'em... where... I'm... goin'..." Vin gasped. "...ain't used 'em but once..."
Chris shot Buck a warning look to go along with Vin. For some reason, Vin was upset at Buck's reluctance to take the boots. What he didn't want was Tanner being upset now, by anything. Buck met his gaze and nodded once.
"Okay, Slick, I'll take care of it."
"...Kid....?"
"Easy, Vin." Chris moved in to grab the sagging arm when Vin moved to find J.D. and pain shot through him, causing his limb to jerk.
"Uh, yeah, Vin?" J.D. avoided Chris's stern look and shuffled forward. He sucked his gut in and knelt down, making it easier for the wounded man to see him.
"...ya take care... horse..."
"Sure, Vin," J.D. nodded of Vin's fine black horse.
"Yer a helluva sheriff, John... Dan... iel... D...D...unne..." he managed, wheezing hard and gripping somebody's hand even harder. "Aw, hell..."
Buck shifted forward, taking Vin with him in an effort to give the gasping man more air. It seemed to work. Several minutes passed with the pale man taking horrid, sucking breaths. He saw Chris's face go pale and an unfamiliar fear creep into his eyes.
"...don't... grieve..."
"Don't grieve?" Chris shot back without thinking.
Vin winced as every bit of how deeply this man felt for him was suddenly staring back at him. He thought on the many years he'd shut out the world, choosing a solitary life. No pain. No loss. No hurt feelings. No feelings at all. Don't let anyone get close.
How wrong he'd been!
He suddenly realized just how strong and warm Buck's hold was and relaxed a bit. He eyed J.D. and saw maturity where once there had been uncertainty. He thought on Josiah and Ezra and Nathan and how knowing him had helped each of them grow. Trusting someone enough to watch your back was the ultimate compliment and these fine men had paid him back in spades.
Then there was Chris Larabee.
He was turned away now, his strong profile gazing at the river. A breeze kicked up and took the sweat-dampened blond hair from his forehead. He saw those mesmerizing eyes squint and study the horizon. There it was... reflected in the intense gaze... peace. Something that hadn't been there when he'd met this man. That perhaps was his final gift.
"I rode t'many years alone...." he whispered, waiting for the face to turn and meet him. "I know ye'd went through the fires o'Hell losin' yer kin. Fought more'n yer share o'demons, includin' the one in the glass," he observed of Larabee's internal battles. "But know this, Chris Larabee..." he paused, taking several small breaths. "..ya ain't the same man I seen o'er a broom that first mornin'. Ye've changed... ya walk a little taller... yer eyes shine again... I'd like t'think I had somethin' t'do with that. Sure would make me sleep easier."
"You did."
Chris imparted in a hushed tone and moved closer, taking the shaking hand Vin offered. He thought on how that hand had effortlessly invaded his heart and freed his soul. He saw Vin's lips moving and bent closer.
"Word?"
"Word," he vowed.
"Good." Vin coughed, gripped the hand tighter. "Then ya know... this... when ya stretch yer legs outside in the mornin' and kiss the new day, I'll be there. When yer in the mountains and the snowflakes git t'dancin', I'll be there. When the folks sing on Christmas Eve... and the Lord is born... I'll be there. When ya see the eagle fly... high... in... the sky... soarin'... I'll... be..."
"Buck!"
The rogue's words had been stolen by the moving testimony of the dying man. He heard the urgency in Larabee's voice and saw the body moving. It was time to go. This was it, Vin's final moments, and Chris needed to hold on to this warmth as long as he could. The blond needed to embrace it and store it deep inside, to fuel him for the rest of his days. Numbed at first by the awful finality, Buck shook his head as if to clear it and nodded. Gently, they made the transition.
"Get Nathan," Chris ordered of J.D., sensing Vin wanted to say goodbye.
"Okay," the youth started and felt his wrist snagged.
"Ya ain't green no more, kid... was proud t'ride with..."
"Same here, Vin," J.D. squeaked and studied the fighting eyes. "Thanks, Vin, for always looking at me straight away. Most folks look down or treat me like some fool from the East..."
"You are a fool from the East," Buck teased, ruffling the dark hair.
"No... yer... be... best... fuckin'... ranger... in... in... Tex... as...." Vin heaved painfully.
"I will, Vin!" he choked.
"See ya... next... ride..."
"Okay." J.D. gave the shoulder a pat and staggered a few feet away, senses reeling. Chris's head followed him and jerked hard. So he shoved his jangled nerves aside and ran for the healer.
Vin rested his eyes a moment, needing to take some more precious breaths. He couldn't help shivering; he was awfully cold. He didn't think it would come this fast. He wondered what Heaven would smell like? Flowers maybe? The wonderful scent of the air after it rains? Or maybe the intoxication of a glorious spring morning? He was still gathering his waning strength when a hand tugged on his chin . He forced his eyes open and saw a beautiful Buck Wilmington smile. It leveled him and he found himself smiling back.
Buck didn't let words spoil the moment. He gave Vin the biggest sun he could find and sent every bit of admiration in the emotive gaze. He absorbed every fine feature on the tracker's face and stroked his cheek once with his thumb. He heard Vin inhale sharply and gave that cheek a light tap once, then he rose and left. Only when he was several feet away did he lose his composure and dissolve in a mask of pain.
"...been a good... ride..."
"That is has," Chris agreed, desperately trying to keep Vin warm a little longer.
"...ain't got much... in... m'wagon... ya see t'em?"
"I will." He thought a moment and grinned. "Hell, the money I get from selling all them fuckin' scarves will build me a barn." He heard the soft laugh and caught it, stowing it away for a cold night.
"...Chr... is...?"
"Right here, Vin." He winced as a razor-like pain began to slice through his gut. This was it... the beginning of the end.
"...m'book... with scratchin's... and... the girl..." He fought hard for each word. "...yers."
"Thanks, Vin," he said of the gift. Vin's poems and his mare's leg were two integral parts of him.
"...tell the prea... cher... goodbye..." he panted, carefully taking small breaths. "...'siah?" His mind drew up a picture of Sanchez and he felt a warmth blanket him. He could almost hear that deep voice and feel that strong hand easing his pain. "...he's... a... good... m...m...an."
"That he is," Chris agreed. "I'll tell him, Vin."
"...harm... on... ic... a... keep..."
"What the hell do I want with that damn thing?" Chris teased.
"...always... 'member... Tan... ner... my... Pa... my..."
"I know, Vin," Chris lauded. "You tell your Pa thanks for me. You're every inch a Tanner."
The beautiful moment was suddenly shattered when shots rang out, causing both men to jerk. Chris felt Vin stiffen in his arms and instantly moved, easing the injured man down and covering his body with his own. In one fluid motion, he drew out his Colt.
"...hell ya doin'...?" Vin protested, too weak to move. "I'm already dyin'... ain't takin' ya with me... this time... ride... alone..."
"Chris!"
"Buck?" The blond head snapped up, trying to determine where on the ground at the top of the hill the cry for help came from.
"Buck?" Chris repeated.
"...git... offa me..." Vin hissed. "...go... help..."
"J.D's hit... he's bleedin' bad!" Buck called out, trying to stem the blood flow in one hand and keep his gun firing. He didn't see where the shots came from. Moreover, several were coming from another direction. Up river, where Nathan had disappeared. He didn't hear return fire.
"Nathan?"
No reply.
Buck shifted his body, keeping his left hand pressed to the blood pouring from Dunne's side. As soon as the kid fell, he had scooped him up and dove behind a fallen tree. Now, he cautiously lifted his head, peering at the brush where he last saw the healer. Something brown amongst the rocks moved, crawling from cover into plain sight. He couldn't see a face, just blood pouring down the brown skin.
"Shit... aw... shit..." Buck feared, knowing at least two gunmen were firing on them and Jackson was moving right into their sights.
"Chris! Nathan's hit... he can't see... he's dead meat..."
"Nate?" Vin panicked. "Chris... git goin'... don't let them bas... tards... kill..."
As Chris took his body off the prone man, he saw something. He saw cold fear in the telltale blue eyes. A degree so icy, it chilled him to the core. He knew what that fear was and saw the single bloody fist curled up. Vin didn't want to die alone. He was helpless, unable to defend himself, and now his shelter was gone. The tracker's Adam's apple bobbed and Chris bent low, putting his lips close to Vin's ear.
"I won't leave you, cowboy. You hold on, I'll be back." He paused, locking his eyes onto the frightened ones and chasing some of the frost away. "Word!"
"W...o...r..d" Vin managed, his heart gyrating wildly as the strong hand gripped his neck once and then the boots quickly moved away and heading for the hill.
Buck heaved a sigh of relief when Chris flew past, hitting the dirt just ahead of him.
"How bad?" Larabee asked, eyeing the scarlet ribbons trailing through Buck's fingers.
"It won't stop..." He pressed harder, causing the unconscious youth to cry out. "Chris, you got to get to Nathan."
"Shit!" Larabee ducked down when more bullets rang out. He saw them kissing the dirt all around the dazed healer's staggering progress. "Sick bastards are playing with him."
"Up there... one at least." Buck jerked his head to a high rock overlooking the area. "The other is down past him, closer to the ground."
With that, Larabee took off, like a bolt of greased lightning. His face screwed up in a sneer when bullets danced at his heels. He returned fire, his rapid shots dead on. A body fell from the rocks, a bloody hole where the right eye had been, hitting the earth with a loud thump.
"Nathan, get down!" Chris screamed, diving for the bloody zombie.
Nathan's confused brain didn't hear the words. Dazed and bleeding badly, he staggered onward, oblivious to the shots and voices shouting at him. Then a hot pain seared through his thigh and he felt something hard hit him in the back. By the time he hit the damp ground near the water, he was already unconscious.
"Dammit!" Chris swore, shoving his gun into the waistband of his pants and taking his bandana off. He grabbed a stick and wound it through the cloth, tying it tight and stemming the flow of blood. He turned the leg over and felt around, hoping his eyes had deceived him. "Shit!" The bullet was still inside.
Chris reloaded his own gun and took Nathan's from his holster as well. From where they were lying, just where the hill was almost even with the ground, he could survey the area. The slight swell in the ground gave him just enough cover. He lifted his head just over the dirt mound and a bullet zipped by.
"Fuck!"
He eyed the blood running from Nathan's head and examined it closer. A deep track ran above his left ear. Close, too close, he thought. His fingers moved to Nathan's neck and he felt a fleeting pulse. The healer was losing too much blood... too fast.
For twenty minutes, they exchanged gunfire. Time was slipping away, precious moments that Nathan and J.D. didn't have. Something had to be done. Larabee saw movement from the side and watched curiously as Buck disappeared in the edge of the trees.
"Flush him out," he whispered, sensing the plan. He'd shared more than a few fire fights with Buck Wilmington and knew his moves well. "Hold on, Nate." He gave the unconscious man a pat and lifted both guns. He eyed the water and ran, firing at the high spot where the shots had come from.
"Rot in hell, you bastard!" Buck shouted, firing three shots into the stocky man's neck and face. He walked over and kicked the corpse several times, then spit on him. He eyed the waterline and jogged down. Larabee was just under the water, peering from behind a slippery rock.
"Chris? I got 'im... Chris!"
"J.D.?" Chris asked, shaking the water from his face.
"Bad, I wedged a stick between him and a tree. It's keeping the pressure on. Dammit, Nathan got hit twice?"
"Was that Mason?"
"No, either he wasn't here or he got away clean."
"Not for long," Larabee vowed in a voice that chilled Buck to the bone.
"Come on." Larabee holstered his gun and put Nathan's in his waistband. He bent down and grabbed the injured man's boots. "Let's get him back up the hill, next to J.D."
"What the hell happened here, Chris?" Buck asked, after they'd brought the wounded Jackson to rest beside Dunne.
Larabee sighed and eyed the two bleeding men on the ground. He then saw raw anger, pain and confusion in Wilmington's eyes. The handsome mustached man's hands trembled just a bit as they wiped the blood off Nathan Jackson's face. He didn't reply at first, seeking out the bag of supplies Nathan left with J.D. when he went for herbs.
"Bastard fucked with the wrong town!" Larabee vented, waiting while Buck lifted Nathan's head.
As Chris doused Jackson's wounds with whiskey and wrapped them in bandages, Buck saw the fierce eyes straying to the hill. More specifically, to a spot beneath the landscape where Vin Tanner lay. Finally, it was done. Buck eased Nathan's head down and turned back to J.D. He took the stick away and grabbed the whiskey bottle.
"Chris, we need help."
"Figured that out on your own, Buck," Larabee spat in frustration.
"Go get Vin and move him up here. I'll keep an eye on the three of them and you ride for help."
"Yeah..." Chris sighed, jogging down the steep hill. "Vin? Vin...?"
His words died in this throat. He stopped, rocking back on his heels as an invisible force hit him hard. Stunned, he let his shocked eyes rake over the ground. Frantically, he dropped down, his hands moving over the empty spot where he'd left his best friend dying and unprotected. Panicked green eyes darted around the immediate area which was barren. A rush of frigid air embraced him, chilling him to the core. Senses reeling, his numb fingers raked the dirt and he jammed his throbbing eyes shut. The sheer starkness of the brutal reality hit him like a sledgehammer.
Vin Tanner was gone.
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