Summary: Chris gets a big surprise when a U.S. Marshall delivers a young girl into his custody
Warning: Spanking of a minor. If you do not like or approve of this PLEASE to NOT read this story. Some harsh language.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Magnificent Seven characters and I am writing this just for fun, for no personal gain.
Disclaimer 2: I do not speak any of the foreign languages represented in this fiction and have used certain words found in online sources without an understanding of syntax, my apologies to anyone with a clear understanding of these languages.
Special Delivery
The warm spring afternoon found all seven peacekeepers of Four Corners sitting comfortably in the saloon in various positions of repose. Things had been crazy enough last week to last everyone awhile so they were enjoying a slow day. Unfortunately the calm was not to last
"Let go of me, fils de pute!" a shrill young voice yelled out as two sets of boot falls could be heard approaching. JD sat forward a bit but none of the others moved noticeably though the ease of moments before was replaced with a ready tension.
A large man covered in trail dust with a gun belt slung low across his hips and a badge on his leather vest pushed through the swinging doors pulling a green-eyed girl behind him. She looked ready to kill and it seemed the U.S. Marshall was her target should she find herself in possession of a weapon. Briefly surveying the dark room, the Marshall made his way unerringly to the peacekeepers.
He met the eyes of the green-eyed leader, lazily reclined in the corner, his back to the wall. "You Larabee?"
"Yep."
"Good." He tossed two thick envelopes in front of the black-clad man. Then threw a small carpetbag on the table as well. "She hits, kicks, bites, scratches, and spits and she's all yours," he gave the girl a small push towards the table and then turned on his heal and headed out.
"Hey, wait a minute! What am I supposed to do with her?" The taciturn gunman demanded coming to his feet.
"My advice would be to take a switch to her backside first thing," the Marshall stated harshly before exiting.
The glare the girl aimed at the man's back gave the surrounding men chills as it bore an eerie resemblance to their leader's. She was dressed in black trousers and a shirt that had once been a white. Despite her masculine dress her facial features and cascading hair clearly declared her as female.
"My name's Vin. What's yer name kid?" The tracker offered.
"Torie," she answered curtly, then taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and took a few more steadying breaths. When she opened her eyes her entire countenance had changed to one of calm decisiveness. As he lazily shuffled a deck of cards, Ezra easily recognized the look of someone preparing to embark on a con.
"Gentlemen, that man is utterly insane," she explained with a soft southern accent. "He must've taken a bad hit to the head or something, because he dragged me across state lines to deliver me here for no reason. I will just gather my belongings and take the first stage back to my home." She picked up the carpetbag but before she could collect the envelopes, Chris picked them up.
"These have my name on them," he stated, his eyes delivering a piercing glare to the girl before him. No one present could possibly miss the resemblance between the two. The girl's honey and brown wisps of hair might have obscured her dirt smudged face but it was still evident.
"Care to explain that."
A sigh escaped her lips. Dropping the pretense she answered honestly, "My full name is Victorina Ysabelle," she pronounced the French name with a perfect accent then paused returning to her very American drawl, "Larabee. You know nothing about me Mr. Larabee and there is no reason for you to know more. You have a life to live here and I have one to get back to in New Orleans. When my mother died, I should not have been sent here."
"Mite young to be takin' off on yer own ain't ya girlie?" Buck queried with a sparkle in his blue eyes.
"I'm old enough to care for myself, sir," she answered the tall mustached man.
"Hell, ain't no one calls me sir, I'm just Buck. Buck Wilmington, it's a pleasure to meet ya little lady," he said sweetly, tipping his hat with a grin
Chris had taken his seat again and fingering the envelopes he considered his time with the lovely French singer in New Orleans. That had been before Sarah. Grabbing the whiskey in front of him he downed the glass. "You can't be more than twelve," he stated raising his eyes to meet the girl's, none too happy that she seemed to feel no compunction about lying.
The girl shrugged and refused to meet his eye. It was pointless to argue as he obviously had been there at her conception and he apparently had placed which one of his paramours was her mother.
"What are these letters going to tell me?" Chris demanded quietly.
"I can hardly say. I haven't read them. One is from my mother and the other from her solicitor. My suggestion is that you burn them both and let me leave. "
"Where are you so anxious to get to, young lady?" Josiah questioned.
The green-eyed girl sized up the large man with light-blue eyes before answering. "As I said before. I have a life to get back to in New Orleans. Mama was my only," she paused casting a furtive glance toward the black-clad gunman, "the only family I knew but we had a great many friends."
"Reckon, I best at least take a look at these," Chris stated.
"Alright, if you feel you have to. Maybe you can point the way to the bathhouse so I can clean some of this trail dust off while you read them."
"I would be pleased to escort you my dear," Ezra offered. Having watched the entire interaction, the gambler was certain there was something the girl was hiding and he thought it best not to leave her unattended.
Just as the girl opened her mouth to decline, Chris answered. "I'd appreciate that Ezra."
Torie offered both of them a glare, but hoisting up her bag she headed out the door with the well-dressed southerner.
"You okay, Cowboy?" Vin asked.
Chris nodded and tore open the smaller envelope. It was from Ysebella De Launey.
My dearest Christopher,
I can only say that I am so very sorry that you are just now finding out that you have a daughter and that you should have to find out in this manner. Our time together was enchanting, but neither of us was prepared for it to be more. Though fond of one another we both knew that nothing could come of that fondness, which is why I chose not to tell you of your daughter. Years later I regretted my decision, but by the time I found you, you had married and I did not wish to intrude on your life. A few years ago, I became ill and the doctors told me that I would not ever recover, but slowly waste away. Once again I decided to seek you out, as Torie and I have no one else. Our few friends are not close, certainly no one I would entrust with my beloved daughter. At this time, I learned of the tragedy that had befallen you and your family and this gave me pause. Christopher, I am so very, very sorry for your loss. If you receive this letter, then I have died and was able to find no better solution for our daughter's care. Please, please show her the love she so desperately needs.
Torie was a bright and loving child, but I am afraid that recent hardships have calloused my once exuberant little girl. She learned life's hard lessons too soon. She has always had such a good heart. I am afraid that those two facts combined have leaded me to a grave error in parenting. Seldom could I bring myself to discipline her and I am afraid I catered to nearly her every whim. Though honestly I can say she had very few. I know that ultimately this has not served her well, but alas…there is naught that I can do about it now. She is a good girl Christopher, though headstrong and stubborn…like her father. Take care of her.
My love and apologies.
Ysebella
"Chris?" Buck queried when the blond-haired man threw the letter down without comment and poured himself another drink.
"Go ahead and read it."
Josiah picked up the letter and quietly read it out loud for Vin's benefit. Chris sipped his whisky and listened as the reality began to sink in. He was a father again. Some anger arose at the fact that Ysabella had never told him, but everything she said was true and he could not honestly fault her. There were so many questions left unanswered. Chris grabbed the second more bulky envelope and tore it open.
Within there was another letter, a fairly large sum of money, a birth certificate, and a property deed.
Dear Mr. Larabee,
I must apologize for my inability to deliver this message and indeed your daughter to you myself as I had originally planned. I also apologize in the delay as it has taken a good six months to get this far. I was solicitor and friend to Ms. De Launey for a good many years. She wished for you to be given custody of your daughter, Victorina Ysabelle De Launey Larabee as well as all of her worldly assets.
I regret to inform you that Ms. De Launey's death was a violent one. She was murdered by a group of men that were never found. I further regret to inform you that Torie witnessed her mother's murder and was injured herself that night. I am afraid this violent event has had an extremely harsh affect on Torie and her personality. Though always a confident and headstrong girl, she has become nearly unmanageable.
She ran away from me three times while we traveled. Unfortunately I was struck with a fever and had to seek the help of the U.S. Marshalls in order to see her safely to you. I warn you, sir, though your daughter was once a most delightful child, she has become singularly minded. She wishes to find the men who killed her mother and exact revenge and no amount of reasoning has been able to turn her from this dangerous and utterly ludicrous pursuit.
Torie has shown herself willing to not only lie, but exact high degrees of deception in order to meet her goal. It is my belief that there is little she would not do at this point. I am afraid that her irrational pursuit even makes her a danger, which is why her gun and knives were taken away (Why on God's green earth, Ysebella allowed her to have them in the first place I will never understand). Under no circumstances would I recommend returning those items to her. I do, however, suggest that you watch her very, very closely.
If you have any questions or wish to contact me for any reason please feel free to do so. I have left my contact information below.
Sincerely,
John D. Williams, Esquire
"Shit!" Chris exclaimed coming to his feet and making his way out of the saloon at a run. Giving each other surprised looks, his men were quick to follow him. Chris reached the bathhouse to find Ezra lounging unconcerned outside.
The southern gambler caught Chris's eye and taking the hint the black-clad leader slowed down. While pointing at the bathhouse with unconcern as if explaining the girl was occupied inside Ezra stated quietly. "Your daughter immediately vacated the bathhouse and quite agilely climbed atop the roof. She seems to be making her way toward the livery stable. I thought I would refrain from detaining her in hopes of determining her plan."
"Thank you, Ezra." The southern gentleman offered Chris a two-finger salute off the tip of his hat. "I'm afraid her plan might be to add horse-theft to assaulting a Federal Marshall," Chris growled. "We need to be careful. She's armed and totin' around enough hate and anger she might just hurt someone."
JD started to ask a question, but a preemptive cuff to his head from Buck quelled his curiosity.
Chris gave his men their assignments and slowly headed towards the building the girl now sat perched atop. He had decided to confront her directly and use the other peacekeepers for backup, but he took his time reaching the building to allow his friends to position themselves. His own anger raged at the horrors that his little girl had already had to face. His little girl. His chest tightened as he thought of Sarah and Adam, but he pushed the painful emotions back. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand and the little girl on that rooftop who needed him.
He released his breath slowly, stealing himself for the task ahead. Though he wanted nothing more than to erase the pain and anger from the girl's eyes he knew only too well she was not going to accept comfort or compassion easily. The look on the face of his twelve-year-old daughter was one he'd seen before…in the mirror. Chris wasn't quite certain how to deal with the wild child but he resigned himself that their first days together were probably not going to be the most pleasant for either of them.
Once he arrived at the building he paused. Confident that his men were positioned, he called up. "Torie, come on down off that roof."
No response.
"Little girl, you get yourself down here now, or my first fatherly duty is gonna be to tan your backside."
He was rather surprised when she shimmied down off the building without argument, landing resolutely on her feet and casting an angry glare in his direction. "I'm not afraid of you, and just so you know I'm way too old for that."
"Not by my way of thinkin'," he answered. "We need to get a few things straight and I think it best we don't discuss it right here in the middle of town. Let's head on over to the church," Chris suggested indicating the building tilt of his head.
The girl paused before heading slowly in the direction indicated, noting as she went that her father's friends seemed to be joining them from various locations as they walked. She had been right about the impossibility of escape once Chris Larabee had come looking for her. If her conscience hadn't given her so much grief over stealing a horse she could have been well out of town by now. Merde!
Chris threw open the door of the church motioned her forward followed her in the other coming in behind them. She stopped at the front and spun around to face him. "So what is it you wanted to say to me, Daddy?" Torie queried her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Chris's jaw clenched and he had to reign in his temper, reminding himself of all that the girl had been through. "First off I'll take this," he said reaching to pull her bag from her grasp.
"These are my things," she growled, refusing to relinquish her hold on the bag.
"And apparently you're not to be trusted with all of them," Chris replied grimly, with a tug that caused the girl to let go and stumble back a step.
"Bâtard," she replied venomously.
Chris raised his eyebrows at that. "I may not know much French, but I do know what that means."
"Like I care."
"Guess that's something we're going to have to work on. But first, you and me need to get a few things straight. That Marshall may have put up with your shenanigans, but I won't. You try to hit, kick, bite, scratch, or otherwise injure me or any of these men and I personally guarantee you won't sit comfortably for a week."
"How dare you threaten me! You have no right!"
"It's not a threat, little lady. And it so happens that I have a letter from your mama and a birth certificate that says it is my right.
The girl's jaw clenched in barely controlled fury and her green eyes glared at the man before her. Chris steadily returned her gaze until she looked away, biting her cheek to keep from telling him exactly what she thought of him.
"Now I understand you've had a rough time of it, and I'm sorry for that, but you need to understand things are gonna be different now and they'll be a few rules you need to follow." Thinking of her earlier deception the elder Larabee's eyes hardened, "You don't lie to me. You do what you're told without argument. And you don't try running away."
"Go to Hell!"
Chris's lips lifted in a grin, "Thanks for reminding me. No more cussing either."
Torie just glared at him balefully, but did not retreat as he approached, his steps slow and deliberate. The spurs on his boots jingled in the silent sanctuary, doing nothing to dispel the tension. Stopping just in front of his daughter, the black-clad gunman gently cupped her face with one hand and tipped her head up. There was a pretty little girl hidden beneath all that rage and trail dust.
"You look like your Mama."
"She used to say I looked like you."
"I guess you look like us both. I'm sorry about your Mama, Torie."
The girl stiffened. "Don't," she said, breaking off a sob.
"Okay, I won't. Not now anyway. Except this, you are not going off after those men. It's suicide and it isn't what your Mama would have wanted. When you're ready to talk about it, we will. And we'll see if there's anything we can do to bring them to justice."
Tears formed in the girl's eyes but did not fall. As much as Chris wanted to wrap his arms around the his little girl and tell her to let it out he knew from her guarded stance that she would not welcome or accept his embrace, so he settled for placing a hand on her shoulder and offering a gentle squeeze.
"Now I want you to meet my friends. You've met Buck, Vin, and Ezra," he stated, indicating each man in turn in case the girl had forgotten. This is Josiah, JD, and Nathan." Each man offered the girl a greeting. "Now how about we go get you some food?"
"Can I have a bath first?"
"Well, now, I don't know about that. You had an opportunity and used it to try runnin' away."
"I won't this time," she mumbled.
Chris nodded. "You do, this time or any other, and I'll be giving you the rest of your baths personally," he stated sternly holding her gaze, "You understand me?"
The girl flushed at the very thought. "Yes, sir."
Later that night, Chris sat with Vin on the front porch of the boarding house in companionable silence smoking a cheroot. Earlier in the evening, Ezra and Buck had headed out to the Saloon, while the young Sherriff patrolled the town to make sure all was well before calling it a night. Nathan and Josiah were sitting inside deep in discussion about the spiritual culture of the slaves prior to emancipation.
"Reckon she'll try and skip out tonight?" Vin queried.
Chris shrugged. "Nate and Josiah are between her and the backdoor. We're out here. No real way to climb down from the second story window."
"Can't ride herd on 'er fer ever."
"Nah, but she needs time to simmer down 'fore she'll talk about it. Once she starts to talkin' then gets to thinkin', maybe she can be reasoned with. Right now she's too mad at the world to see reason."
Vin's blue eyes twinkled and he cocked a brow. "Think she'll stay outta trouble long enough fer all thet?"
"Hell no! But a sore backside will go a long ways toward settin' a kid to thinkin' too. Rather not do it but I'm guessin' I'll have to."
Vin chuckled. Torie was stubborn. Just like her Pa. If anyone could get her through this he figured Chris would be the one. Not that the gunman wouldn't have help. The tracker's blue eyes locked with Chris's green ones and an understanding passed between the two. The blonde gunfighter inclined his head, his lip lifting on one side. Larabee knew that in this as in all else, six men had his back.
A loud crack followed by a gasp broke the night's calm and the two men were up and off the porch in a flash. They rounded the building just in time to see Torie swing from her position on a limb at least twelve feet off the ground to a more secure one closer to the trunk of the big Maple growing beside the boarding house. A telltale broken branch now dangled limply at the level of the second story window.
"I'm gonna kill her," Chris growled.
For her part, Torie sat motionless in the crook of two sturdy branches, the rise and fall of her chest testament to the scare she'd just had. So absorbed in her close call, she utterly missed the presence of the two men. Once calmed, she proceeded to climb down the big tree, favoring her left wrist. When she got to the lowest branches she paused sizing up the five-foot jump to the ground. That's when her eyes met the infuriated gaze of her father.
Torie swallowed hard and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. The man's anger was palatable and aimed directly at her. Licking her lips she looked away trying to regain her resolve.
"Get your ass down here!" he ordered his voice low and threatening.
The girl jumped only to be caught in Chris's arms prior to reaching the ground. Cold green eyes assessed the scratches and bruises, noting one deeper cut running from her right temple to her ear. "Ya tryin' to break yer damn fool neck?" he demanded giving the girl a shake.
"No sir," she mumbled, avoiding his angry glare. He set her down and gave her a solid swat to her backside then picked her up again and carried her into the boarding house.
"I can walk on my own," she mumbled in embarrassment, though ceased any argument or struggle upon having the infamous Larabee glare leveled at her. She swallowed hard. This was not good. Not good at all.
TBC