Colony: Plains 1, by DarkBeta

(I have no rights to the Magnificent Seven. Nevertheless i'm taking them out to play . . . a long, long way from home. This first chapter is a boring list of names and relations. If you can slog thru it, i think the next one will be better. [kowtows abjectly])

[Four Corners, Arizona Territory, July 4th 1869]

That year Mary Travis got everyone convinced that Four Corners needed to prove its settled, civilized status with a Fourth of July picnic. Judge Travis, her father-in-law, agreed to some speechifying. J.D. rode off to invite Casey to it right away. Buck thought that a picnic lunch, a blanket, and a cozy spot in the bushes offered real possibilities.

Nathan headed for the Seminole village. Josiah expressed his opinion in so long-winded a parable that no-one was quite sure where he stood. Vin allowed as it might be worth the fuss. Pie-tasting had been mentioned, and Chris accused Mary of undue influence.

He should have kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't bear with Billy's excitement. The boy insisted on recounting every last detail of the planned events, from the pie auction to the greased pig race. Chris spent a lot of time in the saddle, keeping an eye on the paths and ranchlands nearby, just to avoid him.

Couldn't get out of going to the damn thing though. Aside from hired guards at the bank and a couple dead gunhands waiting for coffins, Four Corners was a ghost town today.

The Standish Tavern was padlocked. The manager, Inez Recillos, had spent the evening with her cook, making more tamales than one town could eat. Anyone wanting a horse from Yosemite's livery stables was out of luck. Those that hadn't been hired to get people out here, were walking in circles for children who paid a penny a ride.

The storekeeper had a stall selling candies, ribbon rosettes and flags. Mrs. Potter was doing a good business, but she might not show a profit. Her two children kept running back to cadge pennies from her.

Mary got Yosemite to haul her handpress out to the pasture. She'd set it up in a mildewed canvas tent, and was running off souvenir posters for about the same price as the pony rides. She'd gotten creative with the typeface, but sales were running a distinct second to the ponies. Working the press was hard, dirty work. He managed not to tell her she looked good glowing.

If Chris had been a gentleman still, he'd have taken the job over. Gentlemen were thin on the ground in Four Corners. He found himself a spot in the shade instead, under one of the big cottonwoods not yet felled for lumber. He had the trunk at his back. The leaves hung down so he didn't worry about anyone drawing a bead on him at a distance. He pulled his hat down over his face. He could have relaxed, if it weren't for the damn people.

"I want that cheating gambler run out of town, or me and the boys are going to string him up."

"Never seen Ezra hold a gun on a man to keep him in the game. I favor lead over hemp, myself. You and your boys might want to head out yourselves."

Chris watched until he saw the rancher and his men ride off. Just as well. Wasn't any man's place to rid the world of fools. Though he wouldn't mind trying . . . .

"Mr. Wilmington has three of them hanging on him. Three! It isn't right for women like that to be walking around with decent families. And children!"

"Buck's happy enough to make it four, if you need an escort."

Mary was never incoherent with rage, unfortunately, but she reached an incandescence that needed print for an outlet and stalked away scribbling. He expected another editorial on the town's "bad element".

Time was, his name as a gunfighter kept a quiet shroud between him and the world.

"That slick Southerner has a cart full of crates all marked up with heathen writing, and he's thick as thieves with the Chinaman that drove it. I smelled gunpowder!"

"How'd you recognize it? You're never around when there's shooting."

"You . . . you . . . ! I'm an important man!"

"Guess I could send Standish back to town, him and his gunpowder. Wonder how much he'd need to blow the vaults at your bank?"

He could have mentioned the lack of witnessses and the paucity of guards back at Four Corners, but he didn't need to. Horror lengthened the fussy banker's face, and he ran for his horse.

"Did you ever see such a bee-oo-tiful boo-kay? This here is Fleur, and this is Blossom, and this is Rose Camellia!"

"Might be trouble. Stay out of the bushes. Seeing you jump up in nothing but your long johns and your gunbelt, it's embarassing."

"Old dog, I got nothing to be embarassed by!"

One of the girls tittered, and one of them giggled, and one of them stared at Chris and licked her lips. He pulled his hat down over his face.

"Indians! Walking around in broad daylight! We'll be massacred!"

A nervous woman didn't last long out here. Mrs. Kleine would find her grit, or she'd take the stage on to San Francisco, or there'd be a burial no-one but Josiah attended.

Rain had come back from the Seminole village with Nathan. She'd brought a couple pony-loads of children along, and one obvious rival for Nathan's affections. Chris didn't expect anyone but Nathan was in danger.

"Better head back to town, then."

"Oh, do you think . . . ? But maybe I'd better . . . ? Alone?"

Her voice drifted away into distant mooing.

"Lookit, lookit! Mama says I'm greasy as a nen-ji-neer. I 'most caught the greased pig. Well, I coulda! Whatsa nen-ji-neer? Some kind of Injun?"

Chris wasn't going to open his eyes. Wasn't going to see the excitement on Billy Travis' face. Rescue came with a plod like a giant's.

"Son, I do believe your mother was calling you. Be a tragedy if she fretted and worried until you both had to go back to town before the day ended."

"Yikes! Bye, Chris. Bye, Mr. Josiah."

Of course, rescue couldn't keep his mouth from flapping.

"A man seeks solitude, but solitude doesn't seek him. Seems like the Good Lord makes our lives a conundrum. I expect that's a lesson, if we see it rightly."

"Josiah . . . go away."

The big man chuckled, but he left. Wasn't long before other steps raced over to the tree, though.

"Casey wants to go walking in the scrub, but her Aunt Nettie brought her carbine along. But Buck just keeps telling me where to put my hands . . . . I don't want to get married already!"

"Tell her you can't go walking out with a girl when the sheriff is supposed to be on duty, J.D. And go deputize Ezra for something before he gets himself killed."

The silence nearby was eloquent. Chris sighed.

"I don't see you out walking around. Go eat pie."

Wind shivered the cottonwood's leaves. There wasn't any point wondering if a bounty hunter might be around in the crowd. Or just some gun-slinger with a Wanted poster in his pocket.

"Hell with it. I'm asleep, and I'm not waking up for anything but the Second Coming."

"Got your back."

The chill woke Chris, as shadow slipped across him. He opened his eyes to an impossible sky, a disc like the moon come down to earth.

"If it ain't the Second Coming, I sure don't know what it is!"

Vin was at his side as Chris stood up, shoulder to shoulder. The sharpshooter had his rifle aimed but the end of the barrel wavered very slightly, and Chris could smell a bitter whiff of fear. Shots stuttered, but just a few, and then they heard nothing.

Chris got his own gun out and aimed, but when he pulled the trigger nothing happened. He returned it to the holster, his jaw working, and then he had no breath. And then there was no darkness, only his rage floating in inimical light.

When Four Corners lost most of its people overnight, blame fell on either the Indians or some kind of freakish tornado. Had the Seminole settlement been easier to find, there might have been a greater tragedy. Instead the town lost heart. Inside six months empty frame buildings had began to shatter back to prairie.