The Cottonwood Tree
By Cheyenne
Chris Larabee laid his arms across the top of the swinging half-doors of the town's saloon, before taking a final drag on the cheroot he held between his teeth. Tossing the spent smoke to the boardwalk and grinding it beneath his boot heel, he watched the dust swirl in small eddies down the main street that ran through town.
As had become usual during the heat spell, no one appeared on the street during the hot afternoon hours. Nothing was stirring. It had been more than a month since the last drop of rain had fallen in the area and with the oppressive heat that seemed to build each afternoon, the people of the small town chose to stay indoors and seek out what relief they could find in their individual homes or businesses.
Even the other six regulators that had been hired to protect the town were nowhere in sight.
The barest flicker of movement at the far end of the street made Chris correct his observation. He narrowed his eyes to bring the object of his attention into focus through the shimmering waves of heat.
For a moment he thought perhaps he had been wrong, that he had not seen anything in the distance, but as he patiently watched and waited he saw the movement again.
At the far edge of town, leaning quietly beside the old church Josiah had began to rebuild, stood Vin Tanner.
Chris had seen the tracker in the same spot several times in the past six weeks since they had been hired by Judge Orrin Travis to keep the peace. Each time Tanner would be staring off into the wide open spaces beyond the cemetery and town. Then as if sensing he was being watched, he would disappear. Chris wasn't sure what held the younger man's attention so intently, but even the strong friendship he felt with Tanner wasn't enough for him to disturb the formidable wall of solitude that surrounded the quiet tracker during his vigil.
Larabee dragged his attention back to the town. He knew from the past few weeks, the townspeople would not begin to emerge from their homes and shops until the unrelenting heat eased toward the end of the day. At that time, the shop owners and storekeeps would remain open until after dark to give folks the chance to make necessary purchases before returning to their homes for the night.
Chris heaved a silent sigh. It had been especially quiet for the past couple of weeks and it was times like this he felt guilty for taking the money offered by the Judge for guarding the town.
His eyes wandered back to the end of town, searching for Vin once more. Not surprisingly, the long-haired tracker was no longer visible. Chris shook his head. Tanner never seemed to stay put in one place for very long. Chris suspected it had a lot to do with the bounty he carried.
With a shake of his head, he pushed back from the doors and returned to the relatively cool shadows of the saloon. It was too hot to worry about a stubborn-assed Texan that didn't have the sense to come in out of the sun.
* * * *
As the echoes of gunfire faded into the distance, Chris pushed himself to his feet from behind the water trough. Two men lay unmoving on the street, one more would probably not see another day and a fourth writhered on the ground, clutching his shoulder as blood ran between the fingers he had clasped over a vicious wound. The acrid tang of gunpowder combined with the coppery smell of blood as Larabee cautiously stepped into the street.
Only minutes ago, Chris had exited the town's saloon to see Frank Jessup and his brothers ride into town. He recognized the men from one of the posters he had seen in J.D.'s office just last week. The brothers were wanted in connection with a string of bank hold-ups that ranged from the Texas border clear to the Nevada Territory. One look at their slow, determined pace and Chris knew why they were in town.
As cautiously as possible he had slipped back into the saloon and hissed for Ezra Standish's attention. The gambler had been half-heartedly dealing himself a hand of solitaire when Chris called to him in a low voice. He explained his suspicions and sent the southerner out the back door of the saloon to warn the other members of the peacekeeping force.
Chris kept a watch on the Jessups as Ezra quietly left and within moments he saw five of the other six men take up positions along the street. He knew without looking that Tanner would take to the high ground.
Chris had breathed a sigh of relief. The Jessups weren't in the habit of killing their holdup victims, so the seven should have been able to surround the bank robbers and take them without any trouble.
It had been a good plan on such short notice and it had nearly worked. Until the outlaws had been shaken by the scream of someone inside the bank.
The Jessups had filed out of the building and were mounting their horses when the youngest of the brothers started back into the bank to silence whoever had raised a ruckus, Chris recognized the deadly intent in the kids eyes and called out to him.
The other regulators each stepped into view from various points surrounding the bank and all hell seemed to break loose.
Chris saw each of his own men draw back into cover as the Jessups began firing and backing toward the bank's entrance. Relief flooded Larabee when he saw the outlaws stopped at the bank entrance. Someone from inside the building had seen fit to slam the door as the shooting started and bar it closed before the outlaws could escape back inside. With a string of profane curses, the panicking men had then moved to the cover of the alley that ran beside the bank.
Larabee could hear Buck and J.D. as they fired from the doorway of the sheriff's office. Further down the street he could see Nathan and Josiah as they emerged from the clinic and the livery to lend their guns to the fracas. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris could see Ezra had taken a position beside the Clarion's office, placing himself between the gun battle and Mary Travis. Above his head and directly across from the bank, Chris could hear the distinctive crack of Vin Tanner's sawed-off Winchester.
The outlaws were in a hopeless situation. With seven to four odds it did not take long for the guns of the Seven to take out the Jessups. The seven peacekeepers remained in place as the last shots faded away. The street was filled with gunsmoke and dust so thick the men had to briefly hold their positions until things cleared. None of the men would break cover until they were certain the gang members were out of commission.
After a bit, Chris stepped forward, careful to keep his gun ready in the event one of them had any last hopes of escape. He looked up as five of his fellow protectors reached the downed outlaws and began the task of cleanup.
Nathan knelt beside each of the two unmoving men to see if his healing skills were needed. Just as Chris suspected, the healer confirmed both were already dead. Moving to the third with a quick check, Nathan gave instructions for Ezra and Josiah to carry the man to his clinic. The tone in the dark man's voice told Chris the outlaw would not live to see another day. Buck and J.D held the fourth man between them until Nathan was able to check his wound. After a brief examination, the healer had them remove him to the jail with instructions to bandage the wound until he could get a few moments free to properly tend the injury .
Chris unconsciously took a step back from the two bodies as the town's undertaker approached with his wagon. Horace Dinwiddie was a nice enough person, but the small, pale-faced man gave Larabee the creeps each time he came around. Chris chastised himself for his narrow-mindedness as he recalled seeing several of the town's citizens react the same way to Tanner in his hide coat. He had vowed not to do the same thing to others. The undertaker was good practice for him.
Chris frowned as he thought of Vin. By some unwritten code, the sharpshooter usually took to the high ground when there was trouble. When things cleared, he would make his appearance to assure himself the other six were unharmed, then with a silent nod to Chris, he would be off to scout the area for any surprises. But, this time he had not checked in and Chris felt an unease seep into his heart.
His eyes immediately began searching the street for some sign of the sharpshooter. It dawned on him that he had not heard Tanner's Winchester during the last part of the battle. A cold weight settled in his gut as he took a quick glance toward the rooftop where he had last heard the gun firing. His face paled and his heart sank as he caught a glimpse of a tan-clad knee barely hanging over the edge of the roof.
"Vin!" The shout escaped Chris before he could even form the thought to silence it. With his heart pounding, he immediately made for the interior of the building and the stairs he knew led to the roof.
He only vaguely recalled hearing Buck turn their lone prisoner over to J.D. with a word of caution as the big ladies man followed him into the building. But, he did hear the fear in Buck's voice as he shouted to their healer. "Nathan!"
Chris knew Nathan would have come running, even without Buck's prompting. The dark skinned man had a innate need in him to care for any suffering being, but Nathan had a special place in his heart for Vin Tanner. The thought of Vin being wounded would be double motivation for the man.
Making his way through the gathering crowd, Chris pushed through the doorway to the roof and felt his heart leaped into his throat. Sprawled on his side in a heap at the far side of the rooftop lay a very still Tanner. Chris rushed forward and winced as he knelt beside the fallen man. Carefully, he rolled Vin to his back and with a hesitant hand, he began searching for the wound he knew had cut down his friend.
Nathan knelt beside him and laid open the hide coat Vin constantly wore. A slow spreading stain of blood covered the younger man's left shoulder.
"Nathan?" Chris asked in a tight voice as he watch Jackson's hands begin their rapid examination.
"Cain't tell yet, Chris. It don't look real bad, but this kind of wound don't usually knock a man out..." Nathan's voice trailed away as his hands encountered the sticky warmth of blood buried in the mass of hair at the back of Vin's head. He gently lifted Tanner's head to make a quick examination.
"What is it?" Buck asked with growing concern at the healer's abrupt silence.
Nathan looked up quickly, his face marred by a frown as he turned his blood-covered hand toward Chris. "He must'a been hit hard by the bullet. Least ways hard enough to knock him flat and give'im a knot. There's a bit of blood here, but it don't look too bad." He pushed himself to his feet and reached beneath Vin's shoulders to lift him. "Let's git'im over to the clinic so's I can get a better look at'im."
"Not a bullet wound?" Buck asked with a tight voice, indicating Vin's head wound.
Nathan shook his head slightly. "Naw," the healer assured them as he waited for one of them to assist him.
Chris felt his worry ease slightly. Nathan sounded concerned but not as worried as Chris had heard him back at the Seminole village when Josiah and Buck had been wounded.
"Chris'n I'll get him, Nathan," Buck said, waving Nathan back. "You can go on ahead. Get those other two taken care of before we get Vin to the clinic."
Nathan nodded and took a step back to let Chris and Buck handle the slighter sharpshooter. As he hurried on his way, his mind was already busy organizing what he needed to care for Vin as well as the other wounded men.
As carefully as they could, Chris and Buck lifted the injured Tanner and began to cart him toward the clinic.
* * * *
When Nathan arrived at the small clinic, he found Ezra and Josiah standing guard over the lifeless body of the third outlaw. A quick check told the healer the man hadn't lasted as long as he had expected, but after seeing the blood that covered Vin Tanner's shoulder he felt very little remorse for the outlaw.
As the gambler and the preacher removed the body to join his brothers at the undertaker's office, Nathan quickly set about preparing the few surgical instruments he owned and what medicines he had on hand. He shook his head as he checked over the too few supplies. Medical equipment was difficult enough to come by throughout the west, his being an ex-slave only made matters worse. He hoped what he had on hand, along with his ever-growing knowledge was enough to help Vin.
He completed his task and stood to one side as Chris and Buck arrived and lowered Vin to the small bed used in the clinic.
Nathan carried a basin of warm water to the table beside the bed and pulled the bloodied shirt away from the wound. "Buck. I'm gonna need more water," he said, as he slipped a leather suspender off Vin's shoulder and unbutton his shirt to get a better look at the wound. "There's a bucket by the door," he called over his shoulder. Buck nodded and was out the door in a flash. "Chris," he continued. "Help me sit him up. We need to get this coat off 'im."
Working together, it did not take much effort for the two men to lift the slight tracker enough to remove the heavy hide coat. When they had succeeded, Nathan had Chris hold Vin upright to allow him access to their wounded friend's back. The healer had not been able to determine the full extent of Vin's injury when they had found him on the rooftop and he needed to see if the bullet had gone completely through the shoulder.
Nathan shook his head when he found no exit wound, knowing it was a mixed blessing. If the bullet had gone clean through Vin's shoulder it most likely would have broken his collar bone, and that would have meant additional pain for the tracker to bear. However, with the bullet still lodged in his shoulder, that meant Nathan was going to have to go digging around the already painful wound searching for the piece of lead. Either way, Vin was going to be hurting for quite a while.
"Nathan?" Chris' soft voice was filled with concern as they lay Vin back to the bed. "How bad?"
Nathan knew of all the seven regulators, Chris felt especially close to Vin. The two of them had seemed to spark with a special understanding from the moment they first appeared together at the cemetery to rescue him from those rowdy Texas trail hands. "Not to bad, Chris," he said pushing Tanner's ever present bandanna, along with long strands of hair to the side, out of his way. "It don't look like the bullet nicked an artery or nothin'. Probably be more painful than anything else." Nathan pushed Vin's shirt and bandanna aside once more as they slipped back to cover the wound.
"What about that bump on his head?"
"I don't know about that. Might be a concussion, but right now, be glad he's still out. I gotta get that bullet outta his shoulder and it's gonna hurt somethin' fierce." Nathan pushed at the stubborn bandanna again in frustration. "Help me get his shirt off too," he said as Chris moved in to help lift Vin's shoulder's again. Nathan pushed the other suspender off the unconscious man's shoulder and carefully removed the bloodied shirt. As Chris eased him back to the bed once more, Nathan twisted the bandanna around until he could reach the knot. He had been sorely tempted to simply cut the annoying piece of cloth off, but he knew Vin did not have many possessions and the solitary young man seemed to value the colorful bandannas he wore.
Chris gathered Vin's long hair in one hand and moved it out of Nathan's way. As the neckerchief finally slipped away, the other two men stopped short. Their eyes met with a shared look of surprise and guilt at the faint scars that marred Tanner's neck. Hanging scars.
None of them had ever questioned why Vin constantly wore the bandannas. The things were not an uncommon sight and were worn by many men; some as decoration and some for practicality. They were most common among trail and ranch hands throughout the west and even Buck Wilmington wore one most of the time. But, neither Chris or Nathan were prepared for the implications of the marks they saw encircling Vin's neck.
"Lord in heaven," Nathan whispered fervently, remembering the feel of a noose around his own neck a few short weeks ago. He had been fortunate that Vin's quick reflexes and sharp eye had prevented him from carrying similar scars. He swallowed hard and sent a final look to Chris, then pushed aside the emotions rising from his soul and continued tending the younger man's injuries.
Chris felt his blood run cold at the sight of the scars around their sharpshooter's neck. Unconsciously, he lifted a hand to rub at his throat. At some point during Vin's life he had been hung or at least someone had tried to hang him. Chris felt ice settle in the middle of his gut. Since that first day when they had met, he had questioned why a man with a price on his head would risk capture by helping a total stranger. The marks on Vin's neck explained why the younger man had jumped to Nathan's defense and why Tanner was so intent on getting the false murder charge against him cleared. He had already received a taste of what lay in store for Jackson that day and for himself in Tascosa if he was caught.
While Nathan diligently worked to clean the wound, memories of the past few weeks rolled through Chris' mind. He recalled his and Vin's first contact on the dusty street the day they had saved Nathan's life. The two of them had united with an unspoken commitment. The warmth of friendship filled him as he remembered the quiet evening at the Seminole village when he and Vin had sat on a lonely promontory of rock high atop the barren mountains keeping watch for renegade Confederate soldiers. That had been when Vin first told him of the bounty he carried on his head and one of the first glimpses Chris had of the quiet younger man's wicked sense of humor. Any man who could think about having the last laugh regarding a price on his head was someone that intrigued Larabee. He also remembered the quiet, steel-support Vin had lent J.D. against Conklin and his cronies when Judge Travis had been holding Lucas James for murder. And finally, he remembered the mischievous twinkle in Vin's eye when they had convinced Ezra to dress as a woman to help save Mary Travis' life in Wickestown.
Chris shook his head. The scars brought to life how close he had come to never meeting Vin Tanner. He eyed the faint marks once more and wondered how long ago the incident had occurred.
At their first contact outside of Watson's hardware store, in his white apron and with a broom in his hands, Chris had mistaken Tanner for a kid, not long out of his teens. But, when the young man had stepped back inside the store and emerged loading a rifle, Chris had known with an unexplainable certainty he was wrong. In the space of a heartbeat, he knew this was no kid, and at the same moment, he knew it was right that he join this stranger in saving the yet unknown to him, Nathan Jackson's life.
Chris had been impressed by the courage and skill he witnessed that day in the younger man. Tanner was a formidable ally and a loyal friend; a complex puzzle wrapped in a hide coat.
In the few short weeks since the seven individuals had joined forces, Chris had gotten a glimpse of several sides of Vin Tanner. He still wasn't sure of the tracker's age, and he found himself wondering if even Vin knew his true age. There were times the tracker with his boundless store of knowledge and wisdom seemed older than the hills, then other times when his naivety made him seem as young as J.D.
So many different aspects of Vin's character shyly peeped out from behind the demeanor he showed to others. Chris knew there were things in each of the seven men's pasts that were better left alone, things better left unknown to the other six, but none more so than Tanner. The man was definitely a mystery.
However, no matter what secrets Vin kept to himself, he had more than proven he was a man you would be proud to ride the river with. The scars around his neck might bring up questions, but none of the other peacekeepers had any doubts about the man's integrity.
Chris moved closer to Vin and cursed softly as the wounded man showed signs of coming around. The stubbornness that had sustained Tanner his entire life was kicking in and bringing him back to awareness.
This was the first time the younger man had been wounded since their unlikely group had formed and Chris was not sure how Vin would respond while regaining consciousness. He knew from his own experience, the disorientation alone could be frightening. To someone with Tanner's shadowed background it could be frightening as well as dangerous. Better to let him know from the very start that he was safe.
Chris began talking to him in a low voice as he saw Nathan from the corner of his eye reach for a tin cup and the bottle of laudanum that had been moved beside the bed. "It's alright, Vin," Chris said softly, offering the tracker a thread to grasp while he oriented himself.
Almost without warning, Vin inhaled sharply, his eyes flying open. Chris felt the slender body tense as Vin started to rise and his right hand immediately reached to his hip where his sawed-off Winchester should have been. Chris gently restrained him and saw Nathan quietly back out of view to let him calm the wounded man. Chris was grateful for the instinct that told the healer Vin would be less panicked with fewer people around him.
"It's okay, Vin," he soothed, trying to ease the tracker back to the bed. "It's Chris." He held his breath and watched as wide, glazed eyes attempted to come into a semblance of focus. He waited patiently, knowing he couldn't rush things until Vin's muddled mind could understand he was not in danger.
Slowly, Tanner's eyes tracked around the room, finding Nathan and finally Chris. There was still no recognition in the soul-deep eyes that settle on them; only pain, distrust and confusion. Chris felt the chill of fear until Vin blinked then frowned. Immediately there was a lessening of the tension in the sharpshooter's body. "You okay now?" Chris asked him softly.
Vin winced but after a moment managed a brief nod. Chris took one of the cups Nathan discreetly provided him and with one hand lifted Vin's head while he held the cup to the tracker's lips.
Tanner took a large drink and in the space of a heartbeat jerked with surprise. His eyes narrowed and he frantically began looking for someplace to spit. The sudden movement jarred his shoulder making him recoil and pale further.
"Don't you dare spit that out, Vin Tanner," Nathan scolded quickly from behind Chris. "It's only laudanum to ease the pain." Vin stilled, his frown deepening as he arched a defiant eyebrow at the healer. "Medicine's hard enough to come by out here," Nathan continued. "We cain't afford to be wastin' it."
Chris held back a smile at the combined look of anger, pain and nausea that crossed Vin's face. He was tempted to laugh, but knew better. From his own past experience, he knew how painful the younger man's wound was and what kind of pain was in store for him while Nathan dug the bullet out of his shoulder. He also remembered the nasty taste laudanum left in a body's mouth. He was able to withhold his laugh now, but he made a mental note to ask Nathan about mixing the foul tasting medicine with whiskey for the next time.
Nathan had suspected Vin would not be an easy patient. Lord knew he had dealt with enough men like him during the war. Men who were as independent as Vin Tanner, made the worst possible patients. They fought against confinement in any way, shape or form and they felt any time they spent in bed was a waste of time. To most of them it was the same as prison.
His suspicions were confirmed the instant he saw Vin unknowingly drink from the cup containing the laudanum. He knew the younger man had expected only water and Nathan made certain he was ready to forestall any attempts on Tanner's part to refuse the medication.
With a deadly look that threatened retribution from Vin, Nathan waited until the younger man swallowed. "Drink the rest of it," he ordered, not giving an inch to the young Texan. "You're gonna need it."
In his wounded and weakened condition, Nathan did not think it was possible for Vin's look to become any more threatening. He was wrong. It took most of his reserve not to laugh as the weak, yet stubborn man fought his natural inclination for independence and finally drank the remaining contents of the cup. Nathan continued to watch the tracker with an appraising eye as Tanner returned the stare. "Don't give me that look," the healer told him as he nudged Chris with another cup. At the gunfighter's questioning look and Vin's contemptuous frown, Nathan explained, "That one's plain water."
At Nathan's explanation, Chris nodded in satisfaction and took the cup. He waited patiently while Vin eyed the water with suspicion then finally gave in and accepted the drink. Despite the gravity of the situation, Larabee had been amused at the looks that had been exchanged between the healer and the sharpshooter. Both men were stubborn, by nature, but in a battle of wills Chris would lay his last nickel on Tanner.
There was no denying Nathan had dealt with adversity in his life because of his chosen dedication to a profession not normally embarked upon by ex-slaves, but Vin was obstinately tenacious of his freedom because, until now, he had been given no other choice in life.
When the last of the water was drained, Chris gently eased the tracker's head back to the pillow. The younger man winced and gritted his teeth as the slight movement caused pain to wash over him once more. Chris deflected Vin's shaking hand as it moved to clutch at his injured shoulder. They did not need the wound to start bleeding again. He felt Tanner's fingers curl around his hand, clutching it high up on his chest as he rode out the painful spasm. Chris hurt for his friend and hoped the pain-numbing medicine would take effect soon.
Within moments Vin's entire body began to relax. The pained expression on his face eased and his hold on Larabee's aching hand began to relax.
Chris breathed a sigh of relief with the easing of the vise-like grip he held, but it was short-lived as he felt Vin's fingers began to move; slowly at first, then more rapidly with alarm. Chris watched in helpless confusion as the tracker's hand moved about his neck; searching.
Eyelids heavy with medication opened in panic as calloused fingers continued their search.
"Vin?" Chris asked, concern and fear lacing his words. "What is it?" Chris sensed Nathan move closer to help calm the agitated but silent man.
It dawned on him that the tracker had not spoken since regaining consciousness. As was usual, Vin had used his eyes to express what few feelings he let be known. Chris saw a flush of embarrassment cross the younger man's face as he fought to keep his eyes open. In that instant Larabee's thoughts returned to the scars around Vin's neck and he realized what was causing his friend's anxiety.
He gripped Tanner's upper arms as his search became almost desperate. Using caution, he held him to the bed. "Vin!" His voice was a harsh hiss. "Listen to me." Chris gave a slight shake to the wounded man when it appeared he was not getting through to him.
Within seconds, the body beneath his grip deflated and any fight that had been in the younger man's eyes faded. The look of defeat that came over Vin's face cut into Chris' soul. "Will you listen to me?" the older man growled, keeping his voice low. His tone was more severe than he had intended, but he felt desperate to make Tanner understand. Nathan was about to remove a bullet from his shoulder and Chris worried that the tracker's survival would depend on his state of mind. He sighed when the younger man's eyes would not meet his, but he refused to give up. He knew he could show Vin a thing or two about being stubborn when it was needed. Roughly, he gripped Vin's stubbled jaw and forced the reluctant man to face him.
Vin stared owlishly as the laudanum began to take effect. Chris silently cursed the bad timing of the medicine, but kept his voice unyielding. "I don't know why you feel you have to hide this," he said, briefly touching the faint scars before narrowing his eyes even more. "But it don't make a damn bita' difference to us." He paused to see if the words were heard and understood. "You hear me, Tanner? It don't change a thing."
Chris waited, hoping to see acceptance of his declaration on the face of his friend. But the medicine, along with Vin's weakness from the wound, drew the injured man into unconsciousness before he could respond.
Chris cursed the medication's timing again as he watched Tanner's eyes close. Despite his words to his friend, he was not sure his message had penetrated Vin's drugged state. For long moments he stared into the lax face and wondered how a man, who had proven multiple times in their short association his willingness to risk his life to ensure justice, could think barely visible scars would alter his friends' opinion of him. Not for the first time, he wondered what betrayal Tanner had experienced in his life to create that degree of doubt in him.
Vin was not a boastful man. Chris knew the marks were not a source of some false pride regarding his looks. The only thing that made sense was that the attempted hanging still haunted the ex-bounty hunter.
"Chris?" Nathan's softly calling to him brought him out of his dark thoughts. "I gotta get that bullet out before he wakes up again."
Larabee nodded and backed himself out of the way. "You...ahh...need any help here?" he asked, thankful he was able to regain control of his voice before he spoke.
Nathan patted his shoulder. "Yeah. Thanks. You might stay close in case he wakes up too soon. I might need you to help hold him." Nathan gave him a reassuring look. "Don't worry too much, Chris." he said after a moment. "Vin's strong. We just caught him off guard is all." He patted the gunfighter's shoulder one last time. "Now come on. Help me get that piece of lead outta him before he decides to take it out himself." He gave Larabee a small grin.
Chris returned the smile then frowned at the unconscious tracker. That sounded just like something the hardheaded Tanner would attempt.
* * * *
A short time later, as the hot afternoon wore on, the excitement created by the Jessup's robbery attempt had quieted and the entire town returned to its sleepy state. Nathan had successfully removed the bullet from Vin's shoulder, the wound had been stitched and Tanner continued to sleep off the effects of the laudanum.
Chris had stepped out for a smoke and now paused at the doorway of the small clinic while the healer finished his examination of his patient. He saw Nathan nod in satisfaction with a hand to the unconscious Tanner's forehead.
"No fever?" the gunfighter asked as he walked back to Vin's bedside and watched him quietly sleeping.
Nathan threw a quick smile up at him. "None," he said as he pushed himself from his kneeling position beside the low bed. "He should be waking up pretty soon."
"What about that bump on his head? That gonna cause him any problem?" Chris asked as he seated himself on Nathan's lone chair at the head of the bed.
"He'll have a bad headache for a few days and probably be dizzy for a week or so, but shouldn't be more'n that." The healer paused. "His shoulder's gonna be hurtin' him pretty good. That should keep him down for part of that time." Nathan moved to the cabinet where he kept his medical supplies and began to fill the shoulder pouch he carried as a medical bag.
Chris nodded silently as he watched Vin. His eyes went involuntarily to the faint scars surrounding the younger man's throat. The marks were barely visible even when you were looking for them, but Chris suspected it was not the visibility of the scars that bothered Tanner. Knowing Vin, it was more likely memories surrounding the marks that had caused the tracker's earlier uneasiness. Chris found himself again wondering what had happened to damage Tanner's usually indomitable spirit.
He pushed himself back a bit as Nathan returned to his patient and checked the wound again. With a nod of his head he carefully straightened the blanket covering Vin then returned to filling his medical pouch.
Jackson was a good man and a good healer, despite his claims of not being a doctor. The town was lucky to have him. There weren't many men, Negro, white or otherwise, that could endure the bonds of slavery, yet still find the compassion in them to help others the way Nathan did. The town owed a vote of thanks to Vin's excellent marksmanship for saving the healer's life.
Chris realized that as fortunate as the town was to have the healer, Nathan was doubly fortunate that Tanner's quick action the day of their first meeting had not only saved his life, but had prevented the healer's neck from being scarred. If Vin's aim had been off, Nathan's scars would not have been concealed as easily. Chris had seen the marks Jackson carried on his back. The stark scars stood out vividly against his dark skin. He closed his eyes, fighting the anger he felt at the injustice the ex-slave had endured, but also feeling a hint of guilt at knowing about the scars Nathan carried.
The ugly reminders were a testament to the abuse Nathan had suffered before he had been freed. Chris clinched his jaw as he remembered seeing them a few weeks back when their group had finished helping unload a wagon full of donated lumber for Josiah's church. The seven new town regulators had completed the task and they were washing up at the water pump when Buck and J.D.'s antics had gotten out of hand. The end results had been the two of them, along with Nathan, winding up in the dirt. The healer's shirt had been pushed up his back revealing the stark discolorations. Chris remembered Nathan quickly pulling his undershirt back into place with the same type of self-conscious embarrassment Vin had displayed over an hour ago. Chris had not mentioned his discovery at the time, because it had seemed to trouble the healer. But in that space of time, his admiration for Nathan had grown by leaps and bounds. He knew the ex-slave had endured much more prejudice in his life than he let on, and yet, the man had not let it embitter him. His desire to heal was always first and foremost in his mind.
Chris quietly watch Tanner a few more moments. The tracker and the healer kept their scars well hidden, emotionally and physically. But where Nathan seemed to have come to terms with the marks he carried on his back, Vin apparently did not feel the same with the memories surrounding the marks he carried on his neck. The tracker's actions at their discovery of his physical scars proved that fact.
Larabee suspected Vin had very little experience being accepted for himself. He needed to understand the other men's opinion of him did not hinge on the scars. Chris would have to make that point clear to Tanner when he regained consciousness, but he would have to make certain he approached the subject with a little more tact than he had used earlier.
Chris shook his head slightly at that thought. Tact was not something he was very good at; never had been. But, he needed to understand Vin's feelings before he would be able to help his friend.
The sound of bottles clinking against each other drew his attention to Nathan as the healer finished filling his medical bag.
Of their group, Nathan was certainly the one who would come the closest to understanding how Vin felt regarding the scars. And with that knowledge maybe their healer could help Chris understand the embarrassment both men carried. If not, at least maybe Nathan could talk to Vin and help him.
"Can I ask you a question, Nate?" Chris ventured softly.
Nathan had finished his task and stood quietly facing the gunfighter. "Sure Chris."
Larabee hesitated, unsure how to begin. "I...ah...I saw the whip marks on your back."
He saw Nathan tense and immediately regretting asking the question. However, his determination to help Vin was strong and he had gone too far now to back out. "Do you hide'em because of what you expect people will think?"
Nathan sat immobile for long, silent moments as he thought over Chris's words. Although he kept the scars on his back concealed as much as possible, he had come to terms with them a long time ago. Such scars, in varying degrees, were not an uncommon thing to an ex-slave. His father had carried them, as well as almost every male slave he had ever known. He had even known women who carried the marks. They were a reminder to himself of how far he had come from his childhood and how much he valued the respect he received from his friends. He did not take offense at the gunfighter's questions. He knew Chris asked because of a desire to understand and to help Vin deal with his obvious embarrassment over the marks they had found around his neck.
"It's kind of hard to explain, Chris," he said finally, then paused once more searching for words. "I know you're askin' 'cause of them scars on Vin's neck." Nathan nodded toward Vin then stepped past Chris and looked down at the pale face of his unconscious patient. Sadness rolled over him as he took a breath before turning back to face Chris.
"First of all, the scars I carry's not likely for the same reason's the ones Vin carrys." He paused to gather the strength he wanted his words to express. "I's whipped cause I was too pigheaded to give in and shut up when I should've." A rueful smile crossed the healer's face. "I's always speakin' up when I should'a kept quiet." He paused and looked at Vin once more. "We don't know why Vin's got them scars of his." Nathan paused and felt a shudder ripple down his back. "But I can tell you one thing for sure," he said as he watched the tracker sleeping. "Once you've felt the bite of a whip, or a rope 'round your neck, you don't never forget," he sighed and paused once more, his voice taking on a distant quality. "Not ever."
After a moment more of silence, another shudder rippled through the big man's body. "I was lucky you boys got me down outta that tree as quick as you did." He unconsciously rubbed at his neck. "I wasn't hanging there long enough to do any major damage or for it to leave a mark." Nathan shook his head in sadness. "'Pears Vin wasn't as lucky." He looked back up at Larabee. "His feelings about them marks is gonna depend a lot on why they was put there."
Chris felt his admiration of their healer increase to a new level. "I didn't mean to pry," he stated quietly.
Nathan sent him a tiny smile. "Yes you did, Chris. But, it's okay. I dealt with my demons a long time ago." He looked back to Vin. "Whether or not Vin feels them scars make him less a man, is gonna depend a lot on why he got'em. Some men carry scars on the outside, some carry'em on the inside." he paused and looked at Vin, his eyes turning sad once more. "Some...carry'em in both places."
Chris smiled in gratitude to the healer and gave a half shake of his head. Nathan was a remarkable man.
"You gonna sit with him a while?" Jackson asked softly after a moment.
Chris nodded. "Yeah. For a spell."
"Then I'm gonna go check on that fella J.D.'s got over to the jail. I won't be long," he said as Chris once more nodded silently. "He wakes up 'fore I get back and needs me, come fetch me."
"I will, Nate," Larabee reassured him as the healer gathered his medical bag under his arm and headed out the door of the clinic.
For long minutes after Nathan left, Chris silently watched the slow rise and fall of Vin's chest. A now familiar feeling of kinship stirred in him as he watched the younger man sleep. He wondered once again why it was that he and Tanner had seemed able to read each other's thoughts from the first moment they had met. Larabee had never experienced anything similar to that in his life. Not with Buck, who he had known for more years than he could count, nor with Sarah when she had been alive. So why Tanner?
The day the trail hands had tried to hang Nathan Jackson, Chris had still been numbed by the death of his wife and child and uninterested in anything around him, least of all someone else's problems. Sarah and Adam had been gone three years and still he was left with only painful memories and no desire to allow himself to become sober enough to think about his loss.
But for some unexplained reason, his whiskey induced indifference had begun to dissolve with the first shots by the rowdy hands that fateful day. When he had seen the treatment of the beautiful and brash Mary Travis as she tried to stop the lynching, he felt the walls he had built around himself come down further. His apathy had crumbled completely a moment later as he felt a tingle ripple through his soul and witnessed a young stranger stepping out of the town's hardware store with a rifle in his hands. Chris' mind had instantly cleared and with a slight nod toward the young man, he had committed himself to helping put a stop to the obvious injustice about to take place.
He would never forget the moment he had caught Tanner's eye and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what the younger man was planning. It had been a Godsend for Nathan, but it had been just as life-saving for Chris. Not only had he been given the chance to crawl out of the living hell his life had become, but he had been given the opportunity to become part of something that mattered; something good. He still had demons that haunted him, but he had received a new lease on life that day and he now knew there was something more than an early grave waiting on him.
After their return from the Seminole village and after Judge Travis had secured their services as peacekeepers for the town, he had finally found the time to reflect on the others. At that point it occurred to him that each of the seven had been saved from an early grave.
Josiah, for all his spiritual insight, had been searching for death when they recruited him.
It would not have been long before an angry mark caught up with Ezra on one of his cons
or an outraged husband ended Buck's life for trifling with the wrong woman.
J.D. Dunne wouldn't have survived his first two weeks in the west if he had not become involved with the other six men and Nathan would have died that first day if Chris and Vin had not stepped in to put a stop to his hanging.
Vin Tanner had been on the run since being falsely accused of murder in Texas. It would only have been a matter of time before he was caught and either killed or taken back for the bounty on his head. Even now, here in town and surrounded by people who could help watch his back, Tanner wasn't entirely safe. The odds of his survival were better than what he had been given until now, but Chris knew Vin still could not let his guard down completely.
Separately, they were seven individuals with weaknesses that might not have protected them forever, but together, their individual strengths combined to make them a formidable force. Remaining together was their key; regardless of any differences among them.
As Chris watched the sleeping tracker, he thought over the times he had caught Tanner's oddly intense observation from the edge of the town's cemetery. At first he had believed it was simply the call of the vast wilds beyond the confines of civilization that kept the tracker hovering near the edges of town in solitary observation. But now that he had seen the scars the younger man carried and seen Vin's reaction to them, he wondered if perhaps it was not more likely memories Vin had not yet faced.
Chris recalled the lonely old cottonwood standing in the center of the town's graveyard and wondered if the memories of another hanging were what drew Tanner's attention so intently.
Larabee felt a chill as the thought formed, and with cold certainty he knew he was right.
It was not the freedom of the wilderness that absorbed the sharpshooter. Nathan's attempted hanging had reawakened memories that still haunted Vin over his own experience; memories of far more than a physical pain.
With his new knowledge, Chris realized that Vin had not yet come to terms with the incident or with the reminders he carried. Buried feelings about the incident were what had caused Tanner's reaction to their earlier discovery of the marks around his neck. Chris wondered if he could have been wrong about Vin's reactions to the scars. Maybe the stubborn sharpshooter was embarrassed by the scars and was questioning his acceptance by the group of regulators.
A deep frown etched across Chris' forehead. They would have to settle that little misunderstanding as soon as possible.
He might have to sit on Tanner to make him accept that the scars did nothing to reduce his worth in the eyes of the other six men, but if that's what it took, Chris would do it.
A flicker of movement from the bed brought his attention back to focus as Vin stirred.
Larabee waited patiently while the groggy tracker slowly struggled to consciousness. Within moments, Vin seem to orient himself and settle.
"Hey, cowboy," Chris spoke softly. He saw Tanner's brow furrow as his voice made its way through the fog still surrounding the younger man. "You hear me?"
A smile crossed the gunfighter's lips as he saw Vin nod without opening his eyes.
Chris reached for the pitcher of water Nathan had left near the bed and poured a glass. Carefully, he lifted Vin's head and eased the glass to his lips.
A quick curse erupted from Larabee as the stubborn tracker unexpectedly clamped his mouth shut and turned his head away. Water spilled down Vin's chin, soaking into the bandage covering his wound. The brief flash of anger quickly disappeared when Chris could not keep from grinning. It was obvious Vin had not forgotten Nathan's earlier trickery.
"It's only water, Vin," Chris assured him. "I swear."
He silently watched the young Texan as he opened one eye to peer at him with a suspicious frown. It took a monumental effort on Larabee's part not to grin as Tanner surrendered and swallow the offered drink. By the time Vin finished and closed his eyes once more, Chris had regained control of himself and the temptation had passed.
For long moments after he had eased back into the pillow, Chris watched Vin. He had expected Tanner would quickly drift back to sleep, but the younger man continued to move restlessly.
"You hurtin'?" Larabee asked him finally in a soft voice that stilled the restless body. "Want me to get Nathan?"
More silence filled the air.
"No," Tanner rasped after a moment. "'be fine."
Chris shook his head at the younger man's stubbornness, watching quietly as Vin tried to remain still.
Larabee frowned at the unease he felt developing in Vin. There was a wall being constructed between them; solid and unbreechable.
Tanner's earlier reaction when he had regained consciousness returned to Chris. The quiet tracker was an intensely private person. It was obvious Vin was uneasy with anyone knowing he carried hanging scars, but his earlier reaction did not match Chris' admittedly limited knowledge of the sharpshooter.
Chris felt his jaw tighten as he thought of Vin's unjust treatment in Texas. His temper flared at the thought of the younger man's stubborn refusal to accept help when it had been offered in the past six weeks.
Chris knew that for most of his life Vin Tanner had lived deep in shadows with the belief that he was of little or no worth to anyone. It was time he understood his value to the town, to the other six peacekeepers and especially to Chris Larabee. He was going to make Tanner talk to him.
"Vin." Chris gritted his teeth when he received no response. "Look at me," he commanded in a low, tight voice.
The involuntary turn of Vin's head at the order gave Chris an unexpected glimpse into tormented eyes along with a flash of guilt at being able to steal another piece of Tanner's fierce pride. Pain flashed briefly before Vin recovered and for the briefest of moments, Larabee wished he had left things alone.
The look he had seen in the tracker's eyes revealed a vulnerability Chris had not thought the normally tough younger man capable and it shocked him to his soul. Recovering quickly he steeled himself to continue. "Is it that bad, Vin?" he asked softly.
Still, Tanner remained silent.
Chris tried to bite down on the irritation he felt rising as silence continued to fill the room, but his temper rose once more and his voice hardened. "Dammit, Tanner. Talk to me."
That tone earned him a blue-eyed glare worthy of his own on his worst day along with a low growl. "Go to hell, Larabee."
Chris gritted his teeth against a heated retort as Vin turned away from him once more. The sharp, anger-laced words were not what he had expected from his friend. He sighed in surrender and felt the anger leave his body. "Most likely will," he said softly.
After a moment he heard a small sigh of surrender escape Vin's lips. "Ain't nothin' you can do, Chris," the younger man said softly, finally turning back toward Larabee. Blue eyes remained downcast, locked on pale hands as he nervously plucked at the tattered edge of the light blanket that covered him. "It's in the past."
Chris shook his head, unwilling to let the younger man sidestep what needed to be said.
"Not past enough that it don't still bother you." He saw Tanner tense and begin to turn away once more. "Is it the scars around your neck?" Chris prompted carefully.
Self-consciously, Vin reached up and began rubbing calloused fingers across the marks. Chris saw him swallow hard as his eyes closed. He thought he saw a faint shiver rippled down the length of Vin's slight frame. "It ain't important, Chris," he said in a strained voice. "Leave it be."
Larabee bit down on the flash of irritation he felt. Normally he would have had no problem doing just that. But the bonds that had been forged over the past six weeks would not let him. Something about the look he had seen in Vin Tanner's eyes prevented him from walking away as he might have done before. From the moment he and Vin had joined together to rescue Nathan Jackson from a hanging, they had shared a bond unlike anything Chris had ever experienced in his life. He knew the same was true for Vin. The usually wary man had trusted him enough to admit to a murder charge hanging over his head when they had known each other only a few days. Chris had learned in the short time the seven of them had been guarding the town that Tanner did not place his trust easily. That amount of faith was not something to be taken lightly.
Vin was slowly being eaten up over what the scars around his neck represented. That might mean additional problems if Tanner was running from more than a murder charge.
Chris shook his head, determined to see that did not happen.
"Can't do that, pard. Somethin's got you twisted up inside about those marks and I need to know if trouble's headed this way."
A weak smile tugged at one corner of Vin's mouth. "You mean something besides every bounty hunter in Texas what's headed this way?"
Chris felt the beginning of a smile of his own at Vin's words. It was good to hear the tracker still held on to his wary sense of humor. "Yeah," he said then waited as Vin shifted nervously on the bed, then flinched in sympathy when the movement jarred the tracker's injured shoulder.
"It ain't like that," Vin hissed to him through clinched teeth. "Far's I know, that bounty's all I got hangin' o'er me." His voice had returned to it's usual low rasp.
"Then talk to me," Chris persisted. "Tell me what's got you tied up in knots about those scars?
For several long moments Vin remained silent. However, this time Chris did not push The younger man's struggle to find the right words were evident on his face.
"It ain't what you think." His voice lowered further. "It ain't cause I's ashamed of 'em."
Chris remained silent and waited, squelching his temper as his frustration mounted once more. Getting Tanner to talk was worse than pulling teeth, but he knew if he wanted an answer he had to wait for Vin to find the words in his own time.
Finally, he began, but his voice carried a touch of uncertainty. "Don't like folks askin' 'bout'em," he said finally. Chris frowned. Confusion marred his features as despite Vin's words, a look of shame crossed the young man's face. "So I hide'em. That way they don't ask 'bout'em and I don't have to remember."
Chris' confusion mounted. "Remember what, Vin?" He asked gently, not understanding the tracker's conflicting words.
Tanner hesitated once more and when he finally spoke his voice was filled with sadness and a defeated acceptance. "How bad scared I was when they tried to hang me," he said softly. Scared like I ain't never felt before or since," he finished in a faraway voice.
Chris blinked and frowned, but held his silence. Although he had known Vin's scars were the results of an attempted hanging, he was not expecting to hear his friend's embarrassment was spurred by fear.
"You think it was just the wrong of seeing an innocent man hang that set me after them drovers when they's haulin' Nathan off?" A mixed look crossed his face as he paused. "I didn't know him from Adam." His voice came close to breaking before it lowered further. "But I did know what it felt like to be hung. Especially for somethin' you didn't do."
Chris waited patiently. The reserved tracker was still having trouble putting his thoughts into words, but Chris knew, deep in his soul, this was something Vin needed to get said. He prepared himself to wait as long as was needed.
After a moment of silence Vin took a quick, hesitant look up at Chris, then he continued. "I told you about Eli Joe and how he framed me for murder."
Larabee nodded.
"Well. What I didn't tell you was how he helped whip the town to a fever pitch out for my blood." He paused again, swallowing hard. "Ya see, that feller, Jess Kincaid, he's a real likeable sort. Never hurt no one." A far-off look crossed Vin's face. "So Eli Joe, he makes sure he sticks around town and keeps things stirred up."
Chris watched as Vin re-lived the scene that had taken place. The faraway look continued in his eyes and his voice became distant, reminding Chris of the evening the two of them had spent on lookout at the Seminole village when Vin had first told him of the bounty on his head.
"Weren't long before a mob formed and stormed the sheriff's office where they's holdin' me." Chris saw and heard the strain of self-control it was taking for Vin to recount the experience. "They hauled me out'a jail and down the street to this old cottonwood that was standing at the edge 'a town." He paused, unconsciously rubbing at his neck once more. "Had me on a horse, the noose 'round my neck an' had whipped the horse out from under me before I knew fer sure what was goin' on."
Chris saw him swallow hard once more. "I was dyin', Chris," he said in that same far-off voice. His eyes unfocused as the memory engulfed him. "Dyin' and scared shitless all at the same time." He paused, his voice sounding dryer with each breath. "Ain't somethin' I'm proud of, but ain't somethin' I can help neither."
Chris found himself swallowing hard. "What...what happened? How'd you get loose?"
"The sheriff 'rived and cut me down." Vin swallowed hard as he worked at controlling the pounding of his heart. "I don't 'member much after that for a bit, 'cept a doc tellin' me I's gonna live 'til they could hang me legal." Chris watched him as he visibly shuddered and continued to relive the incident once more. "I couldn't face that again and I knew I couldn't prove I's innocent. So I lit out first chance I got."
Chris Larabee sat in stunned silence, slowly dropping his head in sorrow at the anguish he heard in the soft raspy voice. Since their rescue of Nathan Jackson from the lynch mob, he had wondered why a man with a price on his head and on the dodge from the law would take the time or the chance to go against the odds Tanner had faced to save a man he didn't know. It made perfect sense to him now. Vin had already earned Chris' respect, but that feeling was doubled at the soft-spoken explanation.
"Been lookin' for Eli Joe ever since," he finished. There was a moment's pause before Vin continued, his voice sounding very young and fearful, but at the same time filled with determination. "I gotta find'im so I can prove I didn't kill that fella." Slowly he shook his head as the distant memory-filled tone returned and his voice choked. "Hangin' ain't no way for a man ta die."
Chris swallowed hard, Tanner's fear twisting his own stomach into an icy knot. "You so sure he's still alive?" He asked softly.
"Yeah. He's still alive," Vin said just as soft. His eyes remained unfocused with long ago memories. "I heard tell he's still raisin' hell out Texas way and up in the Nations." His voice faded once more, yet remained determined. "I'll find'im. And when I do, I'm draggin' his sorry ass back to Texas."
Chris reached out and clasped a hand to Vin's good shoulder. "*We're* draggin' his sorry ass back to Texas," he emphasized with a gentle shake.
Larabee saw the young tracker visibly draw himself back to the present. The look of gratitude that crossed his face, told Chris that he was still secure with the pact they had made to clear him of the murder charge. Vin's acknowledgment was a brief nod of his shaggy head.
The gunfighter eased back into the chair, silently watching as Vin settled on to the bed and without conscious thought pulled the light covering Nathan had placed over him up to once more cover his neck.
Chris shook his head with weary sadness. He had hoped Vin's telling him how he had acquired the scars would remove any feelings of shame he might still hold. He was wrong. The ex-bounty hunter might have accepted that he was not alone in his fight to prove his innocence, but he had not gotten ride of the feeling of shame over the fear he had felt at being hung. Living in the shadows as Vin did had only compounded his fear.
Chris sighed. "Vin," he started softly, searching for the words to help the younger man understand and accept his worth to the group of peacekeepers. After a moment, Tanner slowly looked up at him. "We're not judgin' you." Vin watched him warily as confusion momentarily colored his face. Chris continued. "Bein' scared ain't nothin' to be ashamed of."
The gunfighter saw Vin's body tense as the tracker shifted away from him once more. He reached out and placed a hand on Vin's narrow shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "Don't...," he said softly, as Vin tensed and slowly turned back toward him. "Don't do this."
A stab of guilt twisted his gut at the conflicting emotions that crossed the younger man's pale face. Normally Vin was an expert at concealing his feelings, but this time the feelings were too powerful to completely hide. Blue eyes locked with his, but Tanner remained silent.
"You hear me?" Chris prompted once more.
For long moments, he thought Vin would refuge to acknowledge him, but as he continued to hold in the sharp words he felt spring to mind, Chris saw him relent and almost physically force out the words.
"I hear ya, Chris." He shook his head in regret, "But that don't make it so." He paused, looking more squarely at Larabee now. "Bein' scared ain't somethin' I can afford. Word gets round I'm a coward, next thing I know, I got ever' bounty hunter what's lookin' fer me breathin' down my neck."
There it was. Out in the open. "Bein' scared don't make you a coward, Vin," Larabee told him with conviction.
"Don't it?" Tanner asked with a self-reproaching tone.
Chris waited until Vin would look him in the eye. "No." he said firmly. "It don't."
Several seconds passed in silence before Vin turned away from him, unease evident in his voice. "Maybe," he said, clearly unconvinced. "But I cain't take that chance. Jus' one person figures otherwise and I got a one way trip back to Tascosa wait'n on me."
"Not while you're here you don't," Larabee stated with certainty.
A quick look of surprised confusion and the same unease from a moment before crossed the younger man's face at the offer of protection. Chris knew having someone willing to stand up for or with him was a new experience for Vin. All too quickly, Chris saw the hard set of the young face return.
"I appreciate that, Chris. But it won't last. And I cain't stick in one place too long. I's stayed alive by keepin' on the move and stayin' outta folks way. Man alone don't draw near's much attention as travelin' in a pack."
Chris quietly watched him for a moment, realizing just how alone Vin must have been in his life. "You like bein' alone?" he asked. When Tanner shrugged, Chris again caught a glimpse of uneasiness from him.
"Don't know no different for comparin'."
"What about the past couple of weeks? You ain't been alone since we sprung Nathan."
Vin shifted uncomfortably and after a moment of silence Chris heard a trace of regret in the younger man's soft drawl. "Been nice knowin' I got someone to watch my back, but...," he paused. "Jus' cain't afford to get used to it. Thing's don't last."
"You so sure it'll end."
A soft scoff escaped Vin. "It always does," he said, with a touch of sadness.
Chris frowned at the tracker's words. "That's a pretty cynical attitude."
"Maybe," Vin said with a halting, awkward glance. "But it's truth and you know it."
"You're startin' to sound like Ezra."
Vin shot him a disgusted frown. "You keep up that kind'a talk an' I might have to find out if you're as fast as folks claim."
Chris smiled at the remark; glad to see even the smallest hint of Tanner's humor return. A moment more of silence filled the air between them before Chris became serious. "I meant what I said, Vin. You got friends that'll stand with you now. You ain't alone an things don't have to end." Chris watched him think on that statement for long moments. "I know there ain't no guarantees in life, but give things a chance." he paused. "Give 'me' a chance." A small smile crept to his lips. "You might be surprised..
Finally, a look of hesitant hope crossed the weary face. "Friends ain't somethin' I had a lot of 'sperience with'." He paused, nodding to himself as he faced Chris. "Takes some gettin' used to."
Larabee smiled gently. "We ain't goin' nowhere, pard. Leastways, the last I heard wasn't none of us plannin' on leavin'."
Vin's smiled increased as his eyelids began to droop. "Reckon I could stay a while longer too. Don't hurt a man to sleep plumb through the night...once in a while.
Larabee returned the smile with a nod. "I reckon," he agreed, echoing Vin's soft accent.
Chris watched as his body visibly relaxed into the bed. The comfortable silence that usually existed between them returned and after a short time he saw the younger man's eyes close.
As Vin's breathing even out into sleep, Chris found himself wondering at the tracker's hesitant acceptance of the other six men's trust in him. He thought of his own unerring friendship with Buck Wilmington through the past dozen or so years. The two of them had been through hell together and no matter what had happened, they remained friends, even when Chris had not deserved Buck's loyalty.
Six weeks ago Chris knew he would have echoed Vin's doubts about things lasting. It was very possible the good they had found among themselves would not last, but he was finally able to understand that was a sword that cut both ways. The bad things could not last forever either. Maybe what they had found here would not last, but just maybe it was the beginning of the end of the bad times for each of them. Lord knew each of them had experienced their share of hard times. Maybe this was meant to be the beginning of the 'good' part of their lives.
It felt right to be a part of this no-account town and it's peacekeeping force.
Chris watched as Vin's chest evenly rose and fell in sleep. Other than the murder charge hanging over him, he knew very little of Tanner's past. However, from what small amount he had been able to gather, Larabee suspected the closed-mouthed younger man had been alone for most of his life. He was beginning to understand just how alone the younger man had been.
It was obvious Tanner did not trust easily. His every action spoke of caution. A caution far too ingrained for a man as young and as honorable as Vin Tanner.
A faint smile edged onto Chris' face at the though of Vin's reaction to being called 'honorable'. More than likely he would deny any such notions; right before he decided to take a swing at Chris.
Larabee settled back into the hard chair with a smile, as his own eyelids closed.
It was probably best if he kept his opinions to himself. Alone or not, trusting or not, Tanner had one hell of a punch.
End