This here is an amateur publication by an amateur writer written for and published solely for the enjoyment of fans of the television series THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN (now gone to its undeserved reward), and is not intended to infringe on the copyright of CBS nor anyone else. The story is copyright 1999 by Jesse Syring. The fanzine it came from is called Four Corners a one-shot Magnificent Seven fanzine, published by Jim & Melody Rondeau, 1853 Fallbrook Ave., San Jose CA 95130-1727. The publishers do need material for their on-going western fanzine, BUFFALO WINGS; please send all submissions to them.
A SHORT MADNESS
by Jessie Syring
Mary Travis stepped out of the newspaper office with a tired sigh and locked the door. The sun had set nearly an hour earlier, but she had wanted to finish getting the paper ready to print before going to dinner. She tucked the key into a pocket in her green vest and walked toward the restaurant.
A muffled cry stopped her in her tracks. She didn't hear it again, so she walked hesitantly toward the alley a few feet ahead.
"Hello?" she called. "Is somebody there?"
A man came running out of the alley and slammed into her. She stumbled into the hitching rail, and something hit the ground near her. The man pushed past, got on a horse, and spurred it hard.
Mary caught her balance, rubbing a bruised hip. She watched the man ride away, then turned and peered into the alley.
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Chris Larabee looked up from his meal as the door of the restaurant opened with a slam. Mary staggered in, her face pale. A bloody smear stained the front of her blouse and vest. Larabee reached her in two long strides and caught her by the shoulders.
"What happened?" he demanded, his soft voice harsh with concern. "Are you okay?"
Mary was trembling violently. "I-I'm... I'm all right. But... B-Beth...'Beth Ames..." Her voice had a hysterical edge to it. "Sh-she's been... she's been..."
Larabee forced her into a chair as she began sobbing. He looked at Mrs. Huxley, the matronly woman who operated the restaurant. "Send someone for Nathan," he said, then knelt in front of the distraught woman. "Mary."
She didn't respond. He shook her. "Mary," he said more forcefully, "where's Beth now?"
"The... the alley. Near the hotel."
The older woman returned from the kitchen. "I'll take care of her now, Mister Larabee."
Larabee nodded his thanks and got to his feet. He strode outside, pausing to replace his hat, and started across the street. Vin Tanner and Ezra Standish came running toward him from the direction of the saloon.
"The Huxley boy said something happened to Missus Travis," said Ezra. "Is she all right?"
"She's not hurt," said Larabee, "but she saw something."
"What?"
"An attack of some sort."
Larabee strode toward the hotel. Ezra and Tanner followed, the latter pulling his sawed-off rifle from its holster as he went. Larabee reached the alley first.
Dim light from hotel windows made the scene even more ghastly. The woman had been young and pretty.
Now she lay in a pool of blood that glistened blackly, her head at a weird angle that exposed the gaping wound under her chin. Larabee's lips pressed into a thin line as he knelt beside the still form. Ezra gagged, and Tanner's face twisted in disgust.
Ezra coughed, covering his mouth and nostrils with a white handkerchief as he 1ooked away. "My God. Who is it?"
"The school teacher," Tanner said softly.
Larabee straightened from the corpse. "Ezra, go get the others. And bring some lanterns."
The gambler nodded and hurried away. Tanner moved to Larabee's side. "Won't be able to track the killer before sunup," he observed.
The gunslinger nodded distractedly. "Take a look around. See what you can find out. I'll get the undertaker."
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Nearly an hour passed before Larabee made his way toward the newspaper office, knowing Nathan would have taken Mary there. He walked into the small brick building, and Nathan Jackson met him in the bedroom doorway.
"She's pretty shook up," the black man said quietly. "I gave her something to help her sleep."
"Can I talk to her?"
"Sure."
Larabee took off his hat and ran his fingers through his short, sandy hair, then moved into the bedroom. Dressed in a white flannel nightgown, Mary clutched her blankets tightly to her as she stared out the window beside the bed. Still wearing her apron from the restaurant Mrs. Huxley was seated in a chair to Larabee's right, her expression suggesting he had better keep the visit short. The older woman's face was pale, but she was in control of her emotions.
"Mary?" Larabee called softly. The woman jumped at the sound of his voice. She stared at him with wide, haunted blue eyes. Larabee sat on the edge of the bed. "Can you tell me what happened?"
Mary stared down at her tightly clenched fists. "He... he killed her."
"Who killed her?"
She was quiet a moment, then gave herself a little shake that seemed to help her regain control. "I heard a ... a cry and thought someone needed help. Then a man came running out of the alley. He nearly knocked me down."
Her hands began to shake. "Then I saw Beth..."
Larabee put a comforting hand on hers. "Did you get a good look at him?"
She nodded, glanced at Nathan, then stared at her hands again. "It was a black man, "she said quietly. "Tall. Heavy set. With a mustache."
"You ever seen him before?"
Mary shook her head. At that moment, Tanner stepped through the doorway behind Nathan and caught Larabee's eyes. The former buffalo hunter jerked his head to one side, then went quietly back into the newspaper office."
"Don't worry, Mary," Larabee said reassuringly. "We'll find him."
Mary had gone back to staring out the window. Larabee looked at Nathan, concern in his eyes. "I'll stay with her tonight, Mr. Larabee," said Mrs. Huxley. "You boys worry about finding that killer."
Larabee nodded his thanks, then stood up and moved into the newspaper office. In the light from the oil lamp, Tanner's weathered features looked pale. Larabee pulled the curtain across the doorway and looked at him.
"Found this just outside the alley," Tanner said, sliding a knife wrapped in a bandanna out of the sleeve of his ragged leather jacket. "The killer must've dropped it when he ran."
Larabee carefully took the weapon from him. The blood on the broad, eleven inch blade and elkhorn hilt was sticky, nearly dry. Larabee didn't try hiding his look of distaste as he turned the weapon over in his hands. He paused when he found the initials C.L. carved in block letters on the rounded end of the antler.
L,arabee glancd at Tanner. "You know any body with the initials of C.L.?"
"Besides you?" Tanner gave a crooked smile. "I can think of three or four."
"Any of 'em black?"
Tanner shook his head.
"Don't mean much," said Nathan, joining them. "Folks come 'n go all the time. Weapons change hands." Larabee looked at the knife again, then glanced at the clock on the wall. Dawn was still several hours off. "You think you can sort out his tracks come sun-up?" he asked Tanner, who nodded. "All right. I want everyone ready to ride then."
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Still looking pale and shaken and clutching a knitted shawl around her shoulders, Mary watched the seven men secure their gear to their saddles. Tanner finished his cinch, then moved to the roped off alley to double check the observations he had made at first light.
Larabee finished tightening the cinch of his saddle and dropped the stirrup back in place. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the blonde woman watching them. As he untied his black horse and Tanner's seal brown from the hitching rail he glanced at Nathan.
"Is she all right?" he asked.
Nathan glanced at Mary. "She's still pretty shaken up," he said, "but she's strong. Give her some time. She'll recover."
Larabee nodded, then swung into the saddle and rode to meet Tanner. The others followed. The long haired man took the reins from Larabee and stepped into the saddle.
"The horse he was ridin' had a loose shoe," said Tanner. "Should be easy enough to track once we get out of town."
"Let's go," called Larabee..
The seven men rode out at a fast trot, Mary watched them go, then walked back into the newspaper office:
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They stopped at a small creek at dusk to water their horses and stretch their legs. Tanner squatted at the creek's edge some distance downstream of the others where their quarry had crossed. Then he rose and walked around, studying the tracks.
Josiah Sanchez screwed the top onto his canteen .and looked around. The country here was greener indicating the presence of more water, and trees 'grew thickly along the creek. "Seems strange a murderer'd be headed east," he said in his slow, considered way. "I'd have expected him to head for Mexico."
"Purgatory's closer than Eagle Bend," J, D. Dunne volunteered. "Riding east... there's a sheriff in Eagle Bend."
Buck Wilmington wiped stray droplets of water out of his mustache, then dried his hand on his coat. "He's not thinkin' too cearly. Mrs. Travis saw him, scared him, so he just took off runnin'."
"That's another thing;" J.D. put his hands on his hips. "The man ran into her. Why didn't he kill her, too?"
Buck glanced at Larabee, who had stiffened at the youngster's question. "Be glad he didn't, kid," he said quietly. "Going back to Eagle Bend's hard enough."
Tanner rejoined them. "Horse's been limping since it lost that shoe. He was leading it when he crossed here."
"How long ago?" asked Larabee.
Tanner shrugged, cocking his head to one side. "If we keep riding, we might catch him before he reaches Eagle Bend."
"Or we could lose his trail altogether," Ezra pointed out. "It will be dark soon, after all," the Southerner continued. "And our horses are already tired."
Buck looked at Larabee. "He's got a point."
Larabee collected his horse. "We'll push on a couple miles. I know a good place to make camp."
He mounted his horse, then turned its head east. The others followed. Buck held back for a moment, reining in near Tanner.
"We'd better keep a close eye on Chris he said. "Ever since he lost Sarah and Adam, he gets dangerous when he's in Eagle Bend."
Tanner nodded grimly. The town Larabee had once called home held only ghosts and bitter memories for the man who had lost so much there.
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It was mid-morning when they reached Eagle Bend. Larabee reined in as they neared the outskirts, and the others drew closer.
"Spread out and look around," he instructed. "Vin, you start at the livery. See if you can find the horse he was riding."
Tanner nodded and rode off followed by Josiah. Ezra and Buck started in another direction. J.D. held back a moment.
"Shouldn't we tell the sheriff?" he asked. "He could help."
Larabee's cynical half-smile left no doubts about his opinion of Eagle Bend's sheriff. The youngster wheeled his bay around and rode after Buck and Ezra. Larabee and Nathan touched their spurs to their horses and started down the road.
"Ain't too many places a black man'lI be welcomed at," Nathan observed. "If we find him and he makes a fuss, things could get ugly fast."
Larabee nodded. "I'm hoping we can find him and get him out without any trouble. We don't want the town getting stirred up."
He stopped his horse at the Sandpiper Saloon and dismounted, securing his reins to the hitching rail, Nathan only steps behind him. Larabee stepped into the saloon, glancing around.
Most of the tables were unoccupied. One customer, probably left over from the night before, snored noisily from a table near the door. Across the room, a well-dressed man relaxed in a chair while smoking a cigar, a shot of whiskey in front of him. A bored-looking bartender was polishing shot glasses and stacking them in a pyramid on the bar. Larabee strode toward the bar while Nathan hung back where he could keep watch.
"What'll it be, stranger?" asked the bartender, setting a more-or-less clean glass in front of Larabee. "Information."
The bartender promptly went back to his glasses. "You came to the wrong place for that."
Larabee leaned on the bar. "The last bartender who told me that wound up dead," he said flatly. "We're looking for a man who killed a woman two days ago in Four Corners."
"Old whore probably deserved it."
Larabee moved with the speed of a striking snake. Each fist found a handful of the bartender's shirt. He braced a foot against the bar and heaved. The bartender gave a startled yell as he was yanked, across the bar, scattering the neatly stacked glasses. He landed heavily on the floor with them.
The dandy started to stand, reaching inside his jacket. Something small flashed through the air and thudded into the table in front of him. He froze, looking up at the impassive face of Nathan and the revolver he held.
Covering the startled man, the black healer moved forward and retrieved the knife that stuck, quivering, in the table. "Just sit back down there and keep your hands where I can see them," Nathan advised quietly. "This is none of your business. We'll be moving on soon."
The stranger sat down slowly, deliberately folding his hands on the table in front of him. Nathan lowered his revolver but neither holstered it nor relaxed, his vigil.
Larabee grabbed the front of the bartender's shirt, using his knee to keep the man pinned. "Nobody deserves to die like that. Not even you," he warned in a low, dangerous voice. "Let's try this again. What do you know about the murder in Four Corners?"
"I don't know anything," the man declared, his voice hoarse because of the fists against his throat. Larabee jerked the bartender a few inches off the f1oor.
"Why should I believe you?'"
"Perhaps because its the truth?" suggested the well-dressed man.
Larabee shot a look his direction. Nathan asked, 'What business is it of yours?"
"Two things." Moving very carefully, the man pulled one side of his jacket open and reached into a vest pocket with two fingers. He produced a card and held it out toward Larabee. "I'm always interested in seeing justice done."
Nathan took the card and looked at it. "Man's a lawyer," he told Larabee, ignoring the surprised look on the stranger's face."
Larabee dropped the bartender and rose, joining Nathan. "What's the other reason you're making it your business?" he asked.
"I've been here all morning. No one else has come in."
Laraoee turned and strode toward the doors, followed by Nathan. He stepped onto the porch and stopped turning his head to his left to look at the grim faced man standing there.
"Heard you were back in town," said the sheriff, cradling his shotgun in his arms. "You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?"
Larabee lashed out. His fist connected solidly with the point of the sheriff's chin. Caught off guard, the sheriff staggered back and tripped on a loose board, falling flat on his back. Larabee resumed walking.
The sheriff sat up, spitting blood out of his mouth. Nathan knelt beside him, deftly moving the shotgun out of temptation's way. "Let me take a look at you," he said, tipping the sheriff's head back so he could get a good look. "You're lucky. A couple inches higher and he'd'a broke your Nose. You got off with a few loose teeth. I wouldn't bite into anything too hard for a few days."
"That son of a bitch--"
"You brought this on yourself. You could'a offered to help." Nathan stood and offered him a hand. "Was I you, 1'd take it easy the rest of the day."
"Chris!"
Larabee stopped, in the doorway of the general store and turned toward the shout. J.D. ran out of a side street and paused. He saw the fair-haired man and ran toward him. Larabee and Nathan met him halfway.
"We found him," gasped the youngster.
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Buck leaned against the wall of the boarding house and stared at the small shack some twenty feet away.
"You might as well come out," he called. "You can't stay in there forever."
"You's just gonna hang me if I come out!"
"I promise you'll get a fair trial."
The shed door opened a crack. A gun barrel emerged, spat flame, and vanished again. The bullet struck the wall several feet to Buck's right.
"I don't think he believes you," observed adjusting his sleeve of his jacket."
"You want to try talking to him?" demanded Buck, gesturing toward the shed. Ezra merely smirked and shook his head. Buck turned back to the shed. "Tell you what. Why don't you think about it for a while. We'll come back."
Buck and Ezra turned and saw Larabee, Nathan, and J.D. approaching. Larabee glanced toward the shed and asked, "You think he'll buy that?"
A broad grin split Buck's handsome face. "I guess we'll find out soon enough."
He led them back toward the main street. Nothing moved for a long moment, then the door of the shed slowly opened. A battered revolver emerged, clutched by a black hand. A moon shaped face with a thick mustache followed.
Two huge fists shot out. One closed on the barrel of the pistol, wrenching it violently away. The other grabbed the black man's arm above the wrist and pulled. The man stumbled forward, and a boot to the backside sent him sprawling. He rolled over and found himself staring into the barrel of Tanner's sawed-off Winchester.
"Don't," growled the former bounty hunter as the fallen man tried to rise."
Josiah stepped forward, studying the revolver he now held. "Nice gun," he said sarcastically. Where'd you steal it?"
"I didn't steal it!" whined the man. "I didn't do nothin'."
Tanner reached down and pulled him to his feet. "You can tell it to the judge."
The others joined them. J.D. quickly searched the prisoner and stepped back. "He's got no other weapons," he declared confidently.
Buck rolled his eyes. "Save us from amateurs," he pleaded. "You really think you searched him?"
J.D. lost a little of his smile. "Well... sure."
"Kid, if you're goon a survive more than a few weeks as a sheriff, you better watch and learn, or you're gonna get killed by a prisoner you searched."
While he spoke, Buck's pat down turned up two thin-bladed knives and a filed-down belt buckle edge. He collected the weapons and moved to the side.
"Now he's unarmed, "he declared.
"What's your name?" asked Larabee.
"Luthor," mumbled the prisoner, staring at the ground.
"You got a last name?" The black man shook his head. "What were you doing in Four Comers?"
"Lookin' fer work."
Buck ran a finger along the edge of one knife. "Your line of work include killin' people?"
Luthor looked desperately around at the seven grim faces. "I didn't kill anyone!"
"Missus Travis says otherwise," drawled Ezra. "Once she identifies you, I predict it will be a very short trial."
"Ezra, take Buck and J.D. and get the horses," ordered Larabee. The three men departed. "Josiah, see if you can find a horse for him."
The big man nodded once and left. Tanner said, "Our horses are pretty beat."
"I'm not trusting our prisoner in this jail. I want him where we're the ones watching him."
Tanner raised an eyebrow and glanced at Nathan, who said, "Chris had a little run-in with the sheriff."
A faint smile crossed Tanner's face. Then he and Nathan followed Larabee and the prisoner toward the main street.
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The commotion on the street brought Mary out of the newspaper office. Crowds of people were gathering on the sidewalks and street, some moving in the direction of the saloon. She could hear angry shouts. She shut the door behind her and moved to the edge of the boardwalk.
Larabee came into view first. He warily scanned the surrounding faces and buildings for people interested in doing more than yelling threats. The others rode behind him, forming a protective circle around an older black man. A large crowd followed with an ugly rumble of threats.
They reined in at the hitching rails in front of the jail. Tanner slid off his horse, then pulled the prisoner off his mount. The others dismounted as well, staying close arid keeping their attention on the crowd that was pressing in-.
"String him up!" someone shouted.
"Give him what he's got comin'!"
J.D. went directly to the door and pushed it open. Tanner propelled the prisoner toward the jail, keeping a firm grip on him. The others formed a barrier between them and the crowd as Tanner hustled the prisoner inside.
J.D. followed and closed the door.
Tanner held the prisoner against the bars while J.D. found the keys and unlocked a cell. The hunter shoved Luthor into the cell and locked the door. He dropped the keys on the desk and hurried to the weapon rack. He grabbed a Winchester and checked that it was loaded, then headed for the back door. J.D. followed closely.
Out front, Larabee pushed his way to the center of attention. "The judge'li be here in a few days. Until then, the prisoner stays where he is."
"Give him to us," yelled someone from the rear of the mob. 'We'll give him atrial."
"We don't need the judge."
Larabee's icy stare fixed on the second speaker, a grizzled miner. "You want him, you'll have to go through us."
The miner spat a stream of tobacco juice toward Larabee's boots. "You think you kin stop all of us?"
Josiah's quiet words came from directly behind the miner's left shoulder. "We don't need to stop all of you," he pointed out."
Tanner and J.D. appeared from around the back of the jail. "I'd advise y'all to go back to your homes," said Tanner, jacking the lever on his rifle.
Under the threat of seven men more than capable of using their weapons, the crowd began dispersing. J.D. moved behind the jail again to protect the back door. The miner backed away slowly, keeping his gaze locked with Larabee's.
"We'll be back," he vowed. "You can count on it"
"I'm sure we're looking forward to your imminent return," Ezra called after his departing form.
As the last of the men yanished, "Buck let out his breath in a noisy sigh. "That was a little too close, Chris," he said slumping in to a chair on the porch.
Larabee nodded tersely. He took one last look around for potentially dangerous lingerers and saw Mary standing a dozen feet away. She craned her neck in an effort to peer into the now open door, and her face was pale.
"Is that him, Mary?" he asked.
She jumped slightly at his words, then nodded. "That's the man I saw," she confirmed quietly.
Larabee glanced after the dispersing crowd. "You'd better send for the judge. 'Tell him to come fast."
Mary nodded and, with one last nervous look toward the jail, hurried down the street toward the telegraph office. Larabee strode into the jail, leaving Buck and Josiah to stand guard on the porch.
Tanner lounged in a chair, his feet propped on the desk, the Winchester across his lap. Ezra sat on one corner of the desk, idly shuffling a deck of cards. Nathan turned away from his vigil at one of the windows, and J.D. stopped his pacing.
"Mary's sending for the judge," said Larabee. "Be at least three days before he gets here."
"Assuming he can come right away," Nathan pointed out.
Larabee nodded. "Wonderful," Ezra said mournfully. "And in the mean time, we're sitting on a powder keg."
"I want two of us here with the prisoner at all times. No one in or out unless it's one of us or the judge,"
Larabee instructed. Tanner nodded agreement. "All right. I'm going to get something to eat. I'll be back as soon as I'm done."
As he turnd to leave, J.D. called, "Chris? Can I talk to you a minute?" Larabee turned a curious look at him, and J.D. looked away in embarrassment. "I mean... outside?"
Larabee shrugged and opened the door, letting J.D. preceded him. Buck was still seated in the chair, his gun belt draped across his lap and his attention on someone sitting across the street tying a noose. Josiah was nowhere to be seen, but Larabee suspected he was prowling the vicinity. He had scarcely shut the door when J.D. turned to look at him.
"I... I don't think we got the right guy," J.D. blurted out. He gestured toward the jail. "I mean, he doesn't sound like he killed anyone to me."
"What's he supposed to be saying, J.D., 'I'm the killer'?" Buck asked sarcastically. He snorted. "He just doesn't want to get his neck stretched."
J.D turned red and looked away. Larabee said, "He's got a point, J.D."
"I know but... well, if I'd just killed someone, I would've headed south as fast as I could. He didn't." He swung on Buck, daring him to contradict that fact. "Well, he didn't."
Larabee leaned back against the wall, his hands on his hips. "Mary's pretty sure that's the man she saw."
"'But what if he isn't?" J.D. looked from Larabee to Buck and back again. "All I'm saying is he doesn't strike me as being a killer."
Buck straightened in his chair. "Tell you what, kid. Since you're so sure he's innocent, why don't you look around. If you find another suspect, be sure to let us know;"
J.D. nodded firmly. "I'll do that."
He turned and went back into the office. Larabee watched the kid go and said:; "You know, asking some questions might not be a bad idea."
Buck cocked his head back to look at him. "Don't tell me you think he's innocent, too?"
Larabee stared across the street at the man with the rope. "He just might not be as guilty as everybody thinks."
