The Virginian
The Snow of Peace
By Lucky_Ladybug
Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This is an immediate continuation of season 7's The Wind of Outrage, with me fiddling with a certain character's fate. I also decided to bring in a character from my favorite episode, season 6's The Fortress. (And yes, I am very aware of the irony of these particular two characters co-existing in this story. If anyone else gets it, congratulations!) I hope everyone will sound in-character for this point in the series. I'm particularly concerned about Trampas; I think I gave him the approximate speech pattern of Colonel Steve Austin and I'm not sure it works. Thoughts, please? Keeping characters in-character is very important to me.
Chapter One
The Virginian had seemed in fairly cheerful spirits when he and Trampas first departed The Inn of the Weary Traveler. They had traveled in silence for a while before The Virginian had started a conversation about what everyone else would be doing back at Shiloh while waiting for them to return. Trampas had chatted with him about it, sensing that something wasn't quite right and yet not being able to put his finger on what it was.
They were not long past the old military fort when The Virginian grew somber, turning off the road and into the woods. Surprised, Trampas followed.
"What's the trouble?" he asked.
The Virginian glanced at him and then gazed thoughtfully into the distance. "Have you forgotten about something?" he asked, quietly. "There was a murder in here."
"Oh." Suddenly Trampas realized what The Virginian was doing. "No, I didn't forget."
"I can't just leave poor Sturdevant's body there on the ground," The Virginian said. "It'll take a while to get anyone out here to claim it."
"You wanna take him in to the nearest town?" Trampas queried.
The Virginian nodded. "It's the least I can do for him." His eyes darkened. "I might've been able to save his life if I hadn't ended up shot."
Trampas's eyes flickered in surprise, but then he slowly nodded. He could understand his longtime friend's feelings on the matter.
"He was downright outraged at Jacques' plan," The Virginian continued. "Wouldn't go along with it at all. I don't think Jacques understood why he would ever refuse such a profitable enterprise."
"Jacques apparently never understood that there's more important things in life than money and power," Trampas muttered. "Like integrity and friendship."
"And Sturdevant was either too upset to think straight or he didn't really think Jacques would kill him for knowing too much, because he tried to just up and leave after saying he wouldn't have any part of it. That's about when they realized I was there and someone shot at me." The Virginian slowed his horse to a halt as they reached the spot.
The black-cloaked form was still lying lifeless on the ground, where Trampas had seen him earlier. The Virginian approached and knelt down, deeply frowning at the stab wound in the other man's back.
"Bring that spare blanket, Trampas," he instructed. "We'll wrap the body in that."
Trampas obeyed, collecting the blanket and heading over to the scene. But as he arrived and also knelt, a weak moan and The Virginian jumping a mile caused him to drop the covering into the grass.
"It can't be!" Trampas gasped. "Was that him?!"
The Virginian bent down, checking Sturdevant for signs of life. "Yes, it was!"
Trampas shook his head in disbelief. "He was dead when I found him," he cried. "I know he was dead!"
"People have been mistakenly left for dead before," The Virginian said grimly, but with touches of both hope and urgency in his voice. "And that's the case with our friend Sturdevant here. He's still alive! Trampas, help me bandage him up before he loses any more blood. Then we'll have to get him on a horse. He needs medical attention right now!"
Still reeling, and quickly growing angry at himself, Trampas complied, digging in his pack for the bandages Suzanne had sent with them for re-bandaging The Virginian's shoulder. His thoughts wandered as they both worked, tearing the other man's cloak and clothes to better get at the wound.
How could he have made such a mistake? Trampas remembered now that he had not even bent down to see if Sturdevant was still alive. He had just stood over the body, certain that he was dead, and then had picked up the empty moneybox. And if he and The Virginian hadn't come along now, Sturdevant probably really would be dead. It might even be too late for him already. He had been lying here since early in the morning, before it was even light.
"That's the best we can do for now," The Virginian spoke, dragging Trampas out of his thoughts. They had cleaned the deep wound and now were just finishing the application of the bandage. Already it was red with blood.
"He doesn't look good," Trampas frowned.
"He's barely hanging on," The Virginian agreed. "I don't know how he's held out this long."
Trampas gathered up the rest of the supplies. "We'll have to get him back to the inn," he realized. "There's nothing else close enough."
The Virginian nodded. "Suzanne won't be alone tonight."
Trampas had to wonder what she was going to think of this procession, and the reason for it. But of course there was no other choice. And Sturdevant was in this state because he had absolutely refused to participate in harming Louis. That, if nothing else, should help Suzanne feel better about having him there.
With The Virginian only having the use of one arm, it was mainly Trampas working to drape the limp body across the nearest horse. But The Virginian held the animal steady and thereafter kept a firm grip on the reins.
"I'll walk alongside the horse and make sure he doesn't fall off," Trampas said. "You're hurt too. Get on the other horse and ride."
The Virginian looked as though he might protest, but he thought better of it, knowing that he was indeed weakened from his own wound and the blood loss. He climbed onto the second horse.
xxxx
The sky was clouding up again by the time they made their way back to the fort. The temperature had dropped; another stormy night was likely waiting to be let loose.
Both The Virginian and Trampas eyed the thick clouds in concern. They would not be able to send for a doctor tonight if the clouds burst forth with their fury. Late Autumn definitely wasn't a good time to be traveling, especially when someone was seriously hurt.
Suzanne saw them coming. She hurried onto the porch, her eyes wide and worried and bewildered. "What's happened?" she gasped.
"It turns out Mr. Sturdevant wasn't dead after all," Trampas greeted her. "We went out to get his body and found him still clinging to life. We're going to have to bring him inside and I'll have to go for a doctor. He still might not make it, but . . ." He glanced to the motionless form. "We have to try."
Sickened and alarmed, Suzanne shakily nodded. "Of . . . of course," she stammered. "Bring him in. I'll fix something for him on the ground floor." She turned, rushing back into the building.
"She took that well," The Virginian commented.
"She didn't really have the time to think about taking it any other way," Trampas said. "She'll get time for that later." He started to lift the critically wounded man down from the horse.
Sturdevant groaned. "What's going on?" he mumbled. Trying and failing to get his footing, he crashed hard into Trampas.
"Whoa," Trampas said, steadying him. "We're trying to help you, but you're really bad off."
The Virginian got down from his horse and came over to the scene as well. "The best thing to do is just relax," he said soothingly. "We'll get you somewhere soft and do all we can for you. The rest will be up to you. And since you've tried so hard to stay here up to now, you just might have a chance."
Sturdevant squinted over at him. "Who . . . ?"
He didn't have the strength to speak any further. As he stumbled, going all the more limp, The Virginian tried to help support him with his one good shoulder. Together, he and Trampas managed to half-carry, half-drag him up to the front porch and inside.
Suzanne was just coming out of a room, wiping her hands on her apron. "You can bring him in here," she directed. "I'll bring what I can to treat his wound."
"We did what we could out there," Trampas said with a frown, "but he definitely needs more help. I should leave right now to find a doctor before that storm comes in."
The Virginian nodded, but looked concerned. "You'll never make it to the town before dark."
"I'll just have to try anyway," Trampas returned, adjusting his hat. "Maybe it won't start storming until late."
"Then you and the doctor might get caught in it coming back," Suzanne worried.
"We'll be alright," Trampas said. "And even if we have to stay overnight, at least the doctor will know that much sooner, instead of me just starting out tomorrow to get him. We'll still get back faster if I go out now."
"Trampas is right," said The Virginian. "He needs to go before it gets any later."
Suzanne was still concerned, but she nodded. "Then go, Trampas," she said quietly.
Trampas wondered how much of her concern was actually directed at him and how much was being projected on him due to her concern for Louis, gone to fight the revolution again. But he nodded and hurried out.
xxxx
The hours were long and dragged on into the night. Suzanne did her best to cleanse and change the bandaging on the wound, while The Virginian stood by and helped where he could. Sturdevant remained mostly unconscious, only flinching once when a particular movement brought on a stab of pain so intense it penetrated his senselessness.
At last Suzanne sank down at a table in the main room. Through the window behind her, the snow had already begun, falling slowly and then gathering speed, finally flying down sideways.
The Virginian sat down across from her. For a long moment neither of them spoke, Suzanne involved in her own thoughts and The Virginian not wanting to prompt her out of them before she was ready.
". . . I wonder what Louis is doing right now."
He looked to her as she spoke. She was gazing into the distance, her hands on top of the table. She was half-smiling, but it was sad, wistful. She traced a pattern on the wood with a finger.
"He talked sometimes about how cold the snow is and how he didn't really like it. In the past I didn't think he was talking about anything in specific, but I imagine now that he was thinking of battles he fought when it was snowing."
"Could be," The Virginian agreed with a noncommittal nod.
". . . This man you brought here, this Sturdevant." Suzanne glanced at the open bedroom door. "Louis thought that he and the people who sent him only wanted the forests for themselves if Louis's side won the battle."
"That's possible too."
"Maybe of them, but I wonder about this one. Did he even know what they had in mind? He acted so upset and indignant when Louis brought it up and accused him of being part of it. It could have been an act. I guess I thought it was." Suzanne sighed, looking back to The Virginian. "Now I don't know."
"Even if he knew, it's still quite a jump from taking part in a murder," said The Virginian.
"Yes, but people would still die and it would still be ultimately for a monetary reason." Suzanne looked thoughtful. "Maybe this man honestly believed in the revolution. Maybe he didn't have any other reasons for coming. The people who sent him might not have even told him the truth."
"We won't know anything until he can tell us himself," The Virginian replied. "And he might never be able to."
Suzanne looked down. "I hope Trampas is alright," she said quietly.
The Virginian glanced at the clock. "He should have got to town by now," he said.
"And he'll naturally be stranded until morning, if not longer," Suzanne sighed. "Look at the snow now—it's a blizzard."
". . . Last night Louis described the weather as a wind of outrage," The Virginian mused. "It looks like it might still be."
And what tragedies would the rest of the night and the next morning bring? He had thought that this part of the world had surely been attacked enough for the time being, by both nature and man. Now it looked like he had been wrong.
"How long do you think Mr. Sturdevant will last without professional medical aid?" Suzanne asked, her voice low.
The Virginian glanced to her as he stood, having been about to check on their patient. "It's hard to say," he admitted. "Most other men would have been dead long ago. But he's hung on."
"I wonder if it's mainly for himself . . . or if he has someone to hang on for." Suzanne got up, switching the subject before The Virginian had a chance to answer. "The fire is low. It's probably dying down in his room too."
"I'll put another log on," The Virginian promised.
Suzanne followed him in anyway, bending over Sturdevant while The Virginian tended to the fireplace.
"He's still alive," she said. "His pulse is weak but steady."
The Virginian nodded as he straightened. Sturdevant still had a chance. Hopefully Trampas would have found a doctor to bring back.
And hopefully they would get back safely—and in time.
xxxx
The town was small; Trampas had seen countless just like it throughout both the United States and Canada. It was late and dark when he arrived, the snow swirling in all directions. He made his way towards the only spot in town with the brightest lights—the saloon, of course. He would ask there whether there even was a doctor for this town, and if so, where his office was located.
The place was rowdy and filled with cigar smoke. Several drunks were already talking so loudly and increasingly angrily that a fight was sure to follow. Trampas tried to get past them without interfering. The last thing he wanted right now was trouble. Maybe it was all but impossible for him to go this long without finding any, but he wanted to push his luck as far as he could.
The only patron who wasn't involved in yelling or talking or even drinking noisily was a lone figure in a corner, too far back for Trampas to see anything about him other than the gray hat pulled low over his eyes. But he could feel the stranger watching him. He didn't like it in the least. Maybe the guy was just curious, but maybe on the other hand he was scoping Trampas out as a possible target for robbery or trickery or whatever was on his mind.
The bartender was overworked and definitely overwhelmed, but he perked up as Trampas approached. "Well, hello!" he greeted in surprise and relief. "Trampas, right? It's good to have some sanity in here tonight."
Trampas gave a wry smirk. "A lot of bartenders have dreaded hearing my name," he remarked.
"I don't much care about the past; only the present, if it's different," the bartender replied. "But say, where's your friend?"
"Well, that's part of my problem," Trampas replied. "He's back at the Inn of the Weary Traveler with a badly wounded man. I need to find a doctor and take him back there."
"Oh, so you found that inn you were looking for?" The bartender looked interested, but then sighed. "Unfortunately, we don't have any doctor in these parts. The closest one is at least twelve miles away."
Trampas let out a frustrated sigh. "Then I'll just have to go after him," he declared.
"You can't go out in that storm!" the bartender exclaimed.
"If I wait, the man might die," Trampas countered. "What's the name and direction of the town with the doctor?"
"Pinetree Hill," the bartender admitted at last, grudgingly. "To the Southwest. But I don't like sending anyone away from here at this time of night. You might not ever get back!"
"You're not sending me away," Trampas returned. "I'm making up my own mind." He turned away from the bar. "Thanks."
He could feel the eyes of several people on him as he headed for the door. And as he drew near to it, the stranger in the corner suddenly got up and started towards him. He tensed, bracing himself for an attempted assault.
The Man came to a stop in front of him, sizing him up and down. Then, not speaking, he gestured to the door. Suspicious, Trampas didn't move. "Have you got friends out there or something?"
A shake of the head.
"Don't you talk?" Trampas wondered, immediately annoyed.
A smirk and a nod.
"Then why don't you?!"
Again the stranger pointed at the door.
"You'll talk outside," Trampas deduced. "Alright. But if this is a trick, I'm warning you . . ."
Another shake of the head.
Exasperated, Trampas went through the swinging doors and onto the porch. The silent man followed him and then went ahead, moving to the quieter edge of the building. Tense, Trampas trailed after him.
"Alright, what's this all about?" he demanded.
"I heard the bartender call you 'Trampas'," The Man said. "That's not a common name."
"What of it?" Trampas retorted.
"Do you have a friend who calls himself The Virginian?"
Now Trampas stared. "Do you know him?!"
"Yes, I know him."
Trampas crossed his arms. "Would he have told me about you?"
A shrug. "He might have, but not under my real name. Neither of us believes that strongly in them. He doesn't know mine and I don't know his. He's called me Silent Sam."
"I guess that works as good as anything else." Trampas's eyes flickered with recognition. "He did mention you, or at least, someone by that name.
"But look, Sam, I'm in a hurry. The snow's only going to get worse and I have to get to the nearest town with a doctor."
"I know; I heard that, too."
"You have good ears, to hear over all that ruckus."
"I trained myself to hear things under all kinds of circumstances." Sam pointed back at the building. "I saw that several man were watching you in there, the kind of men whose attention you don't want to have. They know you might be carrying a lot of money with you. They were planning to ambush you as soon as you got outside. It was only when I came out with you that they started to have second thoughts."
"Then you must pull your weight around here really well," Trampas remarked.
"They know my reputation," Sam said. "I usually hire out as a bodyguard of sorts."
"Oh, so now we're getting to what you want," Trampas said. "You want me to hire you."
"I don't think you can afford not to," was the reply. "But no, you don't have to pay me. If The Virginian is mixed up in this, I'll help you without charge."
Trampas raised an eyebrow. "There must have been a lot more going on between you that he didn't tell me," he said.
"Maybe he figured it was private, for just us to know." Sam crossed his arms. "Well?"
"I don't have time to haggle over it," Trampas said. "Come with me if you want. Maybe I need you, maybe I don't. But if you're lying to me, you're going to wish you hadn't."
"I'm not lying," Sam said.
"We'll see." Trampas brushed past him, heading for his horse.