Poison Ivy

Chris stretched out his legs onto the hotel's railing in front of him. Vin was due back in town today. He'd been gone for two months now. It had started off with him escorting a prisoner to Kansas City. Vin had told Chris that he'd decided that as long as he was going, he might take his time, do a little traveling and have a little fun. Chris warned him to be careful, and that was that.

Chris had to admit he was looking forward to seeing him again. He enjoyed Vin's company and things hadn't been quite the same without him. He slumped in his chair and pulled his hat down over his eyes, still listening keenly to the activity around him.

So it startled him slightly when a familiar voice close by said "Hey, cowboy."

Chris grinned. "Welcome back. Things was mighty quiet without you here."

Vin grinned back. "Are you tryin' t' call me a troublemaker?"

Chris merely shrugged as he stood up. The two men continued their conversation as they walked slowly down the street.

"So how was your trip? Yer grinnin' like the cat that got the canary."

"You might say that."

Chris eyed him with interest. "Do tell."

"This must be Mr. Larabee," said a feminine voice behind them both.

Chris turned sharply as a petite brunette slipped her arm around Vin's. She was just a little shorter than Vin, with long, dark hair coiled behind her head. She was dressed simply, but not plain, for what Chris knew of fashion. She flashed him a pretty smile. "Vinnie's told me all about you."

Chris looked at Vin quizzically.

Vin smiled, his eyes looking at her admiringly as he squeezed her hand. "This is Ivy. Ivy Mason."

"It's Ivy Tanner, now," she corrected him.

Vin smiled and glanced at the ground. "I forget."

Chris stared at them both for a moment before recovering. He smiled broadly. "Well, congratulations! I'm at a disadvantage, ma'am. Vinnie hasn't told me anything about you." Chris shot Vin a reproving look. "You'd think a man could wire his friends with news like that--"

"It was kinda sudden," Vin explained lamely. "But I couldn't leave 'er behind. What kinda man would do that?" He looked into her brown eyes and smiled.

Ivy laughed brightly, looking at Chris as she cuddled against Vin's shoulder. "I'm sure you know how impulsive he can be once he sees something he wants."

Vin squirmed in embarrassment. "Cut it out, Ivy," he said softly. "Folks are lookin'."

"Well, I don't care," she said, her lower lip in a teasing pout. "You love me, don't you? You're not ashamed, are you?"

Chris grinned wider, as he watched Vin. He was thoroughly amused by the tracker's discomfort. "Oh, now, I'm sure Vinnie's downright proud to introduce you to all his close friends. Aincha, Vinnie?"

Vin muttered, "Call me 'Vinnie' again, Larabee, and I'll add another hole to that empty head o' yours." He disengaged Ivy from around his arm. "Why don't you go back to the hotel for now? The trip was a long one, and I'd like it fine if you was all rested when you meet the others."

"Well...all right. But don't be long, Vinnie." She trailed a finger down his shirtfront and then took his hand. "I'm sure your town is lovely, but...Well, I just don't feel entirely safe in a strange town all by myself. You understand."

She kissed Vin in a manner that actually made Chris blush, before strolling down the street with a coquettish wave over her shoulder.

Chris turned to him. "Ain't none of my business but...you...um...you go for that type now, do ya?"

Vin shook his head. "She ain't like that all the time. She's a stronger woman than she looks. Husband got taken by the fever over a year ago and she's been on her own ever since." He turned to Chris. "She's got a way of makin' me feel...well...I can't rightly describe it." Vin's cheeks flushed. "You been married 'n' all; you know. Besides, she's just tryin' to make a good impression."

"She's makin' an impression, all right," Chris agreed.

The two waited until Ivy had disappeared up the street.

"Guess this calls for a drink," said Chris. "If not for you, then at least for me."

Minutes later, the two men were seated at a table, beers in front of each of them. Chris stared into his glass as he spoke.

"Like I said, ain't my business. But...Married? Kinda sudden, ain't it?"

Vin shrugged. "When it's right, it's right. You oughta know that."

"You're a good friend, Vin. Just don't wanna see you makin' a mistake."

"Ain't no mistake. You don't see her like I do, Chris." Vin shook his head in wonder "Still don't know what a woman like that sees in me..."

Chris nodded in understanding. "A man needs to hang on to a woman like that."

"I plan to."

"Where you two gonna live?"

"Ain't really thought it all out yet. Maybe rent the Fitzgeralds' old house, now that they finished buildin' themselves that new one."

"Big house. Can you do that on a dollar a day?" Chris looked at him thoughtfully. "I remember when Sarah an' I first got married. Why don't you use my place till you've found somethin'?"

"Thanks, Pard, but won't that be a mite crowded?"

Chris shrugged. "I still got a room in town. You can move in tomorrow."

Vin pondered this a moment. "Thanks, Chris. Ivy and me, we'd be much obliged. But we insist on payin' you rent."

"Ain't no need. Save yer money. You'll be needin' it."

"At least let us give ya dinner. That Ivy, she's a real good cook. She went to a school back east."

Chris smiled. "Dinner sounds fine. No offense to Inez, but a man can eat frijoles and tortillas for only so long."

Clad only in his pants, Chris stood by the window of his room and gazed out over the darkened street, but his thoughts were far from here.

Sarah. Sweet, beautiful Sarah. A strong, loving woman, not in the least intimidated by the flashes of temper that sometimes cowed others. She understood him too well for that. And she had loved him too much. That love had cost her her life. The wedding might've been small had it not been for Sarah. It didn't surprise him at all that she was loved by so many. He had endured the long, well-attended ceremony and the huge party afterwards because it made her happy. And making her happy had brought him a joy that he had never thought possible.

A tear tracked unnoticed down his cheek. He turned from the window and reached for the whiskey bottle. A movement from the street caught his eye and instinctively, he turned back to the window.

Ivy.

What in hell was she doing, wandering the street in the dark? And where was Vin? Chris sighed wearily and hastily pulled on his boots and shirt. He reached the street not a moment too soon.

Just beyond the shadows, Chris could see a man behind Ivy, following her. Ivy started to smile at Chris when he spoke, directing his comments to just beyond her head.

"Evenin', cowboy. You lost?"

Ivy spun around, staring at the large, dirty man behind her, her mouth agape.

The man stopped, his body swaying drunkenly. He averted his eyes from Chris's piercing gaze.

"Well, I...," he slurred thickly. "I jus' wanted t' see if'n the lady needed an eshcort...Ain' right fer a lady to walk the streesh alone. Ain' that right, lady?"

"Much obliged," said Chris easily. "But I'll take it from here."

The drunk was not to be denied. "Hey! I saw 'er first! Git yer own!"

He grabbed at Ivy and Chris stepped in, catching his hand in a vise-like grip. The drunk's other hand came up clutching a knife and Ivy screamed. Distracted for an instant, Chris gasped at the sudden sharp pain in his side. His free hand caught the knife as he struggled with the angry drunk. He brought his knee sharply up into the drunk's gut, dropping him like a sack of bricks. Ivy stared for a moment, then threw her arms around Chris.

"Oh, Chris! Thank you so much!" she cried, her whole body trembling against his. "Who knows what that horrible--"

A familiar voice interrupted.

"What's goin' on," demanded Vin. "Ivy? Chris? What're ya doin' out here?"

"I-I just needed a walk and that man-"

"It's all right, Vin." Chris pulled Ivy's arms from around his neck and said to her, "You're all right, you can let go now. Vin, you'd best take your wife back to 'er room. I'll take this scum to the jail."

"You'll do no such thing," Ivy declared. "Vin, he's bleeding."

"She's right, Pard. You are." Vin could see that Chris's side was bleeding, though not seriously, and there was blood all over his hand from where he'd tried to stop the knife. "I'll take 'im to jail. Ivy, you wanna take Chris to his room? While you do that, I'll bring Nathan back with me."

Ivy shook her head. "Vin, there's no need to do all that. I'm perfectly capable of tending Mr. Larabee--Chris. You don't mind me calling you that, do you? Goodness, after you risked your life to save me from that horrible man, I feel like I've just known you forever." She turned to Vin in a business-like manner. "While you take that man to the jail, I'll help Chris to my room. I have a small sewing kit there, and it looks like he's going to require some stitching. It's the least I can do. I owe him!"

Vin nodded. "We both do," he said to Chris in a somber tone.

"Here, Chris." Ivy wrapped a hand around his waist. "Let me help you."

Chris allowed her to help him. He was finally becoming aware of the pain and was feeling slightly lightheaded.

"Thanks, but I'm fine," Chris said as he lowered himself gingerly onto the bed. Ivy moved about the room, collecting the cloths, water, needle, and thread.

"You just stay right there." She sat beside him, a damp cloth in hand, then raised his shirt and began to mop away the blood.

He watched her gentle ministrations, trying to ignore the pain. "Looks like you done this kind of thing before."

"Looks like you have, too." She ran her fingertips over a scar just above his hip. "How did you get this?"

Chris glanced down at the small, discolored line. "Prison camp."

She looked up, her eyes wide. "You were in prison?"

"Long story. Corrupt sheriff. Prison's got a new warden now."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully, her fingers continuing to lightly explore his scar. "My goodness." She leaned closer and Chris could smell her perfume. "I asked Vin if you were a bad boy, and he said you were the baddest he knows. I like bad boys. That's what made me fall in love with Vin."

Chris shifted uncomfortably. "What were you doin' outside just now?" He grunted as Ivy began to stitch the new wound.

"Looking for you."

"Why?"

"Vin told me about you letting us use your house. I wanted to thank you."

"That couldn't wait till daylight?"

Ivy cut the thread, then turned her attention to his hand. "I suppose it could. When I went looking for you, it was still light out. As small as your town is, it was harder for me to find my way around than I thought. And you can be pretty elusive."

Chris accepted the explanation. What choice did he have? It made some sense, but he had a nagging feeling it wasn't quite the truth.

"Oh. There's a little drop of blood left on your palm." Ivy brought his hand slowly to her face and licked the droplet off. Chris pulled his hand away like it was on fire.

"Stop it. You're a married woman and oughta be actin' like it." He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. "I can finish bandagin' this on my own in my own room, thanks. Good night, Mrs. Tanner."

And without waiting for another word from her, he quickly left her room in the hotel and headed for his own. Whatever was going on with that woman, it was making him very uncomfortable. His earlier words now reverberated in his brain.

'Vin, I hope you ain't makin' a mistake.'

Vin didn't run into Chris again until a day later. By now, he and Ivy had moved into the shack. The others also knew of his nuptials, and all of them had celebrated in the saloon. Chris had put in only a brief appearance before disappearing into the busy street. The others had wondered at his behavior, but quickly turned back to celebrating with their friend. Now Vin had found him sitting behind the desk in the jail, slowly going through a stack of wanted posters.

"Been lookin' all over for ya."

"Been right here."

Vin smiled. "Well, I wasn't lookin' all that hard. Been kinda held up at the saloon."

Chris nodded as he turned over another poster. He paused to look at one. "Jorge Munoz, aka George Munson." He crumpled up the poster. "Heard he landed in a Texas prison a month ago servin' 25 years..."

"Ivy wants ya t' come to dinner tonight."

"Vin...Why d' you think she's doing all this?"

The tracker shrugged. "We owe ya for what ya done the other night. And she really wants you to like her."

"I know she does," Chris agreed. "But no."

Vin stiffened. "Aincha even gonna give 'er a chance? She's makin' yer favorite."

Chris sighed and smiled at last. Maybe he was wrong about her. He hoped so. "Dinner? Chicken an' dumplings?"

"You bet! She said I can't come home unless I bring ya. So ya comin'?"

"Yeah."

It was strange to Chris to be in his own shack as a visitor. He sat on the bed, watching the two of them act just like newlyweds as Vin tried to help Ivy in the kitchen.

The table had been moved to outside. "A man needs room to eat and with two of you..." Ivy had said. Vin stood behind her and put his arms around her waist in an affectionate hug.

"Ain't she somethin'?" He nuzzled her neck playfully. "An' she's all mine."

Ivy squirmed out of his grasp. "Vin, the food'll get cold. Now you wash up and the two of you sit down. Go on! Shoo!"

Vin grinned at her, and reluctantly left her side to wash his hands and join Chris at the dinner table outside. He reached for a dinner roll and bit into it hungrily. "This bein' married life is all right," he said between bites.

Chris laughed. "It always is during the honeymoon."

Ivy joined them, carrying a steaming pot of chicken and dumplings. Vin quickly took the heavy pot from her and set it on the table.

"Vin, sweetie, I couldn't carry the green beans, too. They need to be put in a bowl. Would you get them for me, please?"

Vin got to his feet and kissed her on the cheek in reply, before disappearing into the building.

Ivy smiled at Chris and moved her chair closer in his direction. "I hope you like it. I made everything myself, just for you."

"I'm sure it's fine."

"How's your hand?" She reached for his bandaged hand and held it gently in hers.

"Here y'are," Vin said suddenly, setting the food down between them.

Ivy turned to him. "I was just asking Chris about this nasty injury of his. Who knows what would have happened to me if he hadn't come along."

"He's a good friend," Vin agreed, as he began to fill his plate. "I'd trust 'im with my life."

Chris pulled his hand firmly from hers. "It's healin' up just fine. Thanks. Vin, you were right. She's quite a cook. Reminds me of Sarah's."

Vin looked at Ivy. "Chris's late wife. It's quite a compliment. Me, I can't eat without salt. Be right back."

She turned to Chris, her eyes wide, as Vin walked away. "You were married, too? You're just full of secrets, aren't you, Chris?" She put her hand on his wrist and gazed into his eyes. "And I'd love to learn them all..."

Chris squirmed in his seat. "Look, Ivy--" He stopped abruptly as Vin reappeared. What the hell was wrong with that woman? Why didn't she just leave him alone and concentrate on her husband like a married woman should?

"Vin, I really oughta go."

Vin looked at him in surprise. "You've barely eaten anything!"

"Vin," said Ivy, "if Chris wants to leave..."

"No, Ivy," he said tersely. "Now you worked long an' hard t' cook this very nice meal to thank Chris, and the polite thing to do would be to eat it. Unless he's got some problem with that."

Chris knew he was beaten. There was nothing to do but pick up a fork and dig in. The meal wasn't bad. Except for Ivy's knee bumping his occasionally - which he'd managed to ignore - the meal was pleasant. Vin seemed very happy and Chris would've hated to see that spoiled.

"That was real fine," Chris said at last.

"Would you boys mind helping me with the dishes? Vin, could you get some water?"

Chris followed Ivy into the shack, juggling plates in his arms. As he put them in the dry sink, he felt something brush against his backside. He started, as Ivy pressed her body against his.

"You're a very attractive man, Chris Larabee. Hard to believe a widower like you hasn't been snapped up by some lucky woman already."

Chris whirled and caught her wrists. "I ain't that kinda man, Ivy."

"What kind?"

"The kind that messes with his best friend's wife."

She pulled her hands free, indignantly. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean. My goodness, we invited you here to share a nice meal--"

"Somethin' wrong?" Vin stood in the doorway, eyeing them both suspiciously.

Ivy smoothed her dress nervously. "No, dear. Not at all. I'd just like it if your friend would be obliged to stay a little longer, that's all. It's getting awfully dark, and I'm sure we could spare a little space for him to sleep."

Chris looked at her, trying to hide his surprise. "I really gotta go," he said, turning to Vin. "Got things to do in town in the morning."

"What things?"

"Thanks for the dinner." Chris picked up his hat and, without another word, got on his horse and rode away.

When Chris rode into town, it was well past dark and the streets were nearly empty. At that moment, he was feeling sorely grateful that he had a room in town. That Ivy woman bothered the hell out of him. What was she after? Well, it was plain to any man what she was after, but hell, she was a new bride! Decent women didn't do things like that. And he knew Vin wouldn't have married any other kind.

He led his horse into the livery to a stall in the rear that Tiny always tried to keep available for his black. He boarded the animal for the night and as he headed toward the saloon, he thought about what he should do about the situation with Vin and Ivy.

Telling Vin would do no good. Men did mule-headed and stupid things when they were in love, and choosing your best friend's word over the woman you're head over heels with, well, it just wouldn't wash. Had he been that way himself with Sarah? He probably had, he thought ruefully. Must've driven Buck crazy at times.

Chris sighed wearily and pushed open the saloon doors. Buck was at a table by himself nursing a half-finished beer.

Chris smiled at him. "Bartholomew twins wouldn't let you walk 'em home tonight?"

"Mixed 'em up again," he muttered. "Sue come along and changed her danged hair to look like her sister's and I didn't know it. I swear they're like bookends, them two." He looked up at Chris, then gaped in surprise. "You look done in, stud. Like you been rolled over by a stagecoach bein' chased by a herd o' buffalo."

Chris smiled ruefully and sat down. "Sounds 'bout right."

Buck pushed his glass over to Chris, who accepted it with a grateful smile.

He took a slow swig, savoring the taste and the feel of the brew as it burned its way into his belly. He gazed into the glass thoughtfully.

"Buck...You remember how it was when Sarah an' I first got married?"

"You kiddin'? Like it was yesterday."

"Would you say I was muleheaded?"

"At any particular time since I've known you or just in general? I know I haven't been around you all the time, but..." Buck looked at him and grinned. At Chris's troubled expression, his grin faded. "What're you gettin' at?"

Chris shook his head. "Never mind."

But Buck wasn't willing to let the topic go now. He frowned.

"Well, if you're askin' whether a man in love can be muleheaded, then I'd say 'hell, yes.'" Chris nodded absently as Buck stretched and stood up to go. "I've been in love lotsa times, and I know that for a fact." He gave Chris a friendly pat on the shoulder and headed for the door. "Don't need to worry 'bout Vin, though," he called over his shoulder. "He's level-headed enough. 'Night, stud."

Chris bought himself a bottle of whiskey to take back to his room. He felt like an old man as he undressed, peeling off the dusty jacket and shirt. Barefoot and wearing only his pants, he stretched his legs out on the bed and took a long pull from the whiskey bottle.

He needed to get good and drunk. Probably have nightmares about bein' attacked by some sea creature with 10 arms. He wanted to like Ivy and at first he was just annoyed. Now he was downright angry and felt powerless to do anything about it. Except avoid her. And it didn't look like Ivy was going to let that happen.

He took another swallow and then another. At last the familiar lightheaded buzzing seeped into his skull and, for the first time in 24 hours, he felt himself beginning to relax. A few more swigs and the persistent warmth finally traveled from his muscles into the marrow of his bones. He wanted to sleep now. Sleep would feel real good...Yeah, that was it...Sleep...

Something, a sense of someone, caused Chris to stir. Even heavily drunk, his self-preservation instincts were always functioning. Was there someone in the room with him? He slowly dragged his eyelids open and thought he saw...thought he saw...The blurry figure looked like Ivy standing in his room, by his bed, staring at him.

That couldn't be. He'd left her with Vin, where she should be. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but it must have weighed 100 pounds. One hundred pounds of cotton wool. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment. The next time they were open, there was no one there. Had she even been there?

"Damn nightmares," he muttered angrily to himself and was instantly asleep again.

Chris wasn't sure what woke him up, but it could have been smoke, heat, or the shouts of people outside. Inside, there were shouts and screams and people running through the halls. In the distance, he thought he heard the chuch bell. The room was bright with dancing light but smoke obscured everything else.

What the hell...!

He had to get out, but his vision was still cloudy and his brain couldn't manage to string two thoughts together as he squinted at the blaze in his room. The smoke and fire were thick by the door, and flames from the floor were licking at the edge of the bedding.

He struggled to breathe but the heat and smoke were getting too intense. His clogged lungs strained to draw in a full breath but each attempt ended with a painful cough. Through his still-muddled brain and hazy vision, it looked like the window was the only way out. From there it would be a short drop to the street.

Chris rolled from the bed to get below the smoke and fell heavily to the floor. He cried out at the searing pain as the flames made contact with his bare skin and his clothing. He crawled clumsily to the window, pulled himself to his feet. Chris could hear shouts from the street below and dimly, he could see people running about. He was about to climb out onto the short roof just below his window when a gust of heated air and smoke from his room propelled him from the window.

He landed hard onto the street, the wind knocked out of him, as some of the townsfolk rushed toward him. His pain-wracked body was rolled violently around in the dirt as some men put out his burning clothes.

"Chris!" It was JD, his voice sharp with concern.

Chris struggled to speak, but just breathing was nearly impossible. He tried again, then gave up as everything around him went black.