The Years In Between

by TrueEnough

A series of vignettes that follow Vin from his childhood in Texas to his adulthood in a modern day Four Corners.

The Years In Between by TrueEnough

Vin

He is nine, almost ten when Charlotte, his social worker, steps onto his school bus and calls out his full proper name.

"Vincent Tanner?"

She is pretty with long brown hair that reminds him of his momma and makes him want to protect her even as a singsong chorus of his name rings out around them. Both Charlotte and the bus driver try to shame the singers with a look but it's useless.

He knows what is happening, knows that he is being pulled from another home and even knows why, as much as he has tried not to think about it. The irony lay in that he will receive the most help when he has finally stopped asking for it.

Charlotte reaches back to hold his hand and his muscles twitch in her direction before he catches himself and runs one step ahead of her instead.

She drives a Toyota pickup which for some reason raises Vin's esteem of her. "We're going to spend some time at Haven House," she says, while yanking on a passenger side door that sticks, "until we can find you another home." She is always good about saying "we" even though Vin knows he will be the only one staying. He climbs into the cab without pointing out that Haven House is his home.

Unable to suppress it, he spares her a smile as she pulls out of the parking lot. While there is something well scrubbed, even upper class about her, she handles the stick shift as if she has learned how to drive on the family tractor.

Vin's first crush.

He moves his battered suitcase between his feet and stifles the urge to open it up and rifle through the well worn clothes to find the only things that are truly his. He has fought for them over the years - from older kids who found their power in trying to take the only picture he has of his momma and even from foster parents who believed he had no use for a nautical spy glass or a harmonica he blew tunelessly in to. Each struggle makes them more invaluable, and in turn, more of a secret.

Like most institutions Haven House changes very little no matter how much time he has spent away from it. At one point it had been a mission that had provided shelter for wagon trains heading west and also for the Kiowa and the Comanche who were being driven out of the Panhandle. By the time Vin had found shelter there it had been stripped of most of its historical charm in favor of picnic tables cemented into the ground and wrought iron bars covering all of the windows and doorways. An old church bell that is still rung on Sundays is one of the few things left unchanged.

Vin leads Charlotte to a glass enclosed counter where she can check him in and ducks his head when she smiles nervously at him. The woman behind the counter steps through a buzzing doorway and hands Charlotte sheets and a blanket and a plastic bag with a toothbrush and soap. He will be in dorm five. The familiarity of the routine lends him confidence and a bit of swagger. He knows where everything is without following the painted lines that race on the linoleum floor. There is no need to show him to the cafeteria or to the paved over playground. He knows the yellow lines will take him to each and every fire exit. Dorm five is down a long hallway and on the right side.

He's assigned to the bottom half of a bunk bed near the doorway. This suits him fine as the light from the hallway can be very reassuring in the middle of the night. A scuffed up trunk at the foot of the bed is numbered in an effort to make ownership clearer. Wanting to give Charlotte an example of his calm expertise he opens the chest and deposits his clothes into it knowing that he will have to hide his belongings in a better place than under his jeans. He looks up at her and tries to convey with his hip shot stance that he knows the drill. There is no need for reassurances that this won't last long or that the people here are really great. He knows what the people are like. He is one of them.

He reaches for the bedding but she holds on to it and then sets it down on the bed herself. She takes a deep breath and holds it long enough to impress him. A flustered Charlotte is a beautiful thing.

"Vin...I need you to come with me before you settle in."

Her kind and pained tone lights a fear in him that will make him sweat to remember it. He shivers through the familiar sensation of his skin shrinking over muscle and bone. He breathes in small sips of air while his heart pounds for more. Something is happening and he knows that he will have little or nothing to say about it.

He follows Charlotte. Follows her out into the hallway, past one dorm after another until the red line on the floor ends at the infirmary door. He takes a deeper breath and starts to relax. He has been through this, too. Someone in a lab coat will check him for lice and call it a physical. It will be over in minutes.

Instead, they are greeted with a reassuring smile from a woman who identifies herself as Dr. Lydia. She waits until Vin climbs up on the examining table and is more or less eye level with her and then in a warm unhurried voice explains that she is from the children's hospital and will be performing a physical on him at the request of the county. While Vin appreciates her assuming he will understand, in reality, the chain of command means very little to him. She asks Charlotte to take a seat nearby and then pulls a curtain around the three of them.

"Vin, I'm going to tell you what I'm doing before each step. If you become uncomfortable I want you to say so, OK?"

Vin nods. His heart pounds.

Years later he would overhear how the body, with its only concern being to maintain the status quo, goes through a complex chain of events when it is wounded. Adrenaline enables fight or flight. Sweat cools skin overheated by a racing heart. Pupils dilate in order to see what's in the shadows. Clotting factors are released into the bloodstream to staunch bullet wounds or, in a great show of democracy, a skinned knee. There is little or no conscious will involved. On that long afternoon Vin is nothing but his dumb body. He cannot tell the difference between Dr. Lydia's cool, soft hands and the ones that have gone before. As gentle and cautious as she is the examination is just another invasion.

He is passive and quiet under her attention while his imagination takes over. He rides a black horse and thunders across the desert. Dr. Lydia documents old yellow bruises and more recent darker ones while Vin is a sharpshooter and an outlaw wanted for a murder he didn't commit. He is strong and a loner - a man on the verge of becoming a myth.

Charlotte stands and places her hand where Vin can reach for it and finally he does. From that moment on he will be unable to accept comfort without the accompanying burn of vulnerability and near panic.

Early that summer Charlotte waits for Vin while he slowly packs his suitcase to leave for another home. She waits again as he makes his way to her truck and climbs inside. He has finished out the school year at Haven House by staying alert even as he kept his head down and followed the lines that seemed to mark off his days. As tiring as it could sometimes be it was also familiar and reassuring in that there was very little left to lose once he settled in. As it disappears from the rearview mirror he comforts himself with the thought that he will be back - all he has to do is wait.

Charlotte rolls down the windows and lets the warm air blow through the cab. Her hair flies up and back as Vin closes his eyes and rests his cheek on the door, taking the wind full on as if he is on a galloping horse.

The crunch and ping of gravel under the truck makes him open his eyes as they make their way down a long driveway. At the end of it a modest size house shimmers in the heat. To the right and further back is a corral with horses pulling hay loose from a bale. Vin looks at Charlotte's profile to orient himself from his powerful imagination.

An older woman stands on the porch that runs across the entire length of the house. Charlotte comes to a dusty stop and calls out hello as they get out of the truck. The woman greets them with a wave. Under the shade of the porch she pronounces her name clearly and tells Vin that he can call her Nettie. From the start she is blunt and un-patronizing and treats both Vin and Charlotte with the same direct regard. Despite his caution, he likes her immediately.

After serving iced tea and banana bread she shoos Charlotte on her way.

"We'll get to know each other just fine," she states and helps Charlotte close her door.

Giving Vin a look that seems to mean she expects him to follow her she shows him to his room. It is nearly empty with only a single twin sized bed and a large dresser instead of the usual stack of bunk beds and trunks.

"I'll let you fill in all the corners, all right?"

Vin nods absently as he stares out the window at the horses just beyond.

"Vin," she says and waits until she has at least half of his attention, "unpack and I'll introduce you," she points out the window, "to your distraction."

"Yes, ma'am."

"All right, then. I'll be in the kitchen."

When she leaves he shoves his suitcase under the bed and then sits on the edge for what he believes is a sufficient amount time before searching out the kitchen.

He walks back down a long hallway and this time notices that several pictures of a small dark haired boy and a smiling baby girl are displayed. He has been in homes before where every awkward school picture of every fostered child is displayed to emphasize their good deeds. Vin wants none of it. He goes into the kitchen ready to be difficult and determined to be left off of the wall.

Nettie turns and briefly takes in his stance and then goes back to cutting carrots into large pieces. "You wake up under sour apple tree, Vin?" she asks.

The question puzzles him into politeness. "No, ma'am."

"Are you sure? Because you look sour."

He shifts his weight to one leg. "I woke up at Haven House," he informs her, trying to get some of his own back.

"Well, that explains it."

He shifts again and decides it is best not to argue with her.

Trying to apologize by being helpful he holds a small bowl while she fills it with the carrots.

"You ready?"

He ventures to use her name, "Yes, Nettie," and gets a small smile for the effort.

"Very well. Let's go."

Eager, he walks ahead of her, breaking into a run at odd steps and then slowing down with some amount of discipline. Nettie lets the back door slam behind her and the sound seems to act as a cue as four horses trot to the railing. Vin feels as well as hears the soft thud of their hooves. He would learn that they are quarter horses, small and sturdy, but on that day they tower over him like minor deities. His smile becomes harder to suppress, the force it takes starts to make him shake.

Nettie assesses him kindly and reaches for the bowl. "Here, I'll take that..." she offers and notices how Vin's hands stick to it, "and you can give George a carrot. Just hold your hand flat and he'll take it."

Vin does as he is instructed and feels the soft brown muzzle brush against his palm and then hears the loud crunch of a carrot being chewed. His laugh is full of oh's and the sound of it surprises him as much as it seems to please Nettie. She holds the bowl out and he takes another piece and holds it out to a black horse. "What's his name?"

"That's John. This is Paul and the one coming up to you is Ringo."

He memorizes their names and mimics Nettie when she pats their powerful necks.

"Have you been around horses before?" she asks.

"At the Fair one time."

"Hmmm. Well, if you like, I'm sure my husband would be glad of your help."

Vin's enthusiasm wanes at the mention of her husband and it was only then that he realizes that he had been harboring the hope that there would be no one else to contend with. He rallies back when Nettie hands him the bowl and asks him to finish up while she starts supper.

Vin reaches out for each horse as they take measure of him and comes to the conclusion that if Nettie and her husband have brought him here to tend to them then he has received the better end of the deal. He wanders further back to a small barn and finds several hiding places before he hears Nettie calling for him. He runs towards the house, remembers the bowl and then runs into the kitchen hugging it to his chest.

Nettie asks him to wash his hands and informs him that since he will be staying he should learn where things are kept. "Setting the table will teach you where the dishes are." It's less than he had expected to be asked to do and so he finds his way around the small kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and setting out heavy stoneware, glasses and wide forks. The smell of roast beef makes his mouth water. He watches Nettie mix butter and cream into mashed potatoes. "Did the banana bread spoil your appetite?"

"No, ma'am."

"Good. What's your favorite dish?"

He thinks of Haven House with its barely warm food and decides not to choose from there. At one of the homes he stayed at the older kids would sometimes cook when their foster parents went out at night.

"I like macaroni and cheese with hot dogs."

She stops stirring for a moment and then continues. "I know someone else who likes that."

A car horn beeps twice and Nettie smiles at the sound. "There's my fool."

The back door creaks open and then closes more quietly under her husbands hand. He is tall and solid and unassuming in the way that truly striking people are. When he sets his slouch hat on a hook by the door he reveals long hair that is more gray than black and yet his face is smooth and calm and belies his age. Wearing flannel and denim, he looks like an advertisement for working class grace.

Nettie offers her cheek for a sound kiss and then he turns towards Vin who has kept the table between them. "Is this the boy who's gong to dust for us from now on?"

"Stop it, Ko-Je," Nettie scolds, "he doesn't know you can't tell a joke." She winks at Vin which does little to reassure him. "Vin, this is my husband, Ko-Je - Ko-Je, this is Vin."

Ko-Je steps around the table and offers his hand. Vin hesitates for a moment before grasping his wrist. Ko-Je follows his lead.

"Vin likes macaroni and cheese with hot dogs," Nettie continues their introduction.

Ko-Je lets his hand slip down and then clasps Vin's hand in both of his. "Ah, the food of my people."

His calloused hands are strong but Vin is unable to detect any force behind his hold. A slight tug and he is able to pull free and tuck his hands into his pockets. Ko-Je takes him in for a long moment and then steps back to the other side of the table.

As the days pass Vin finds the routine of his new home and adapts to it. He wakes up with the sun and passes Nettie and Ko-Je in the kitchen on the way out to the barn. Wanting to call the horses out into the corral he swings the door shut with more force than is needed leaving Ko-Je to groan into his coffee cup.

The air is cool on his face and on some mornings the shadow of the moon lingers in the sky. The quartet of horses learn the sound of his whistle and to his delight push him around with their muzzles as he loosens a bale of hay.

He takes on more work than is asked of him, enjoying how it makes him stronger and gets him dirty. Ko-Je was indeed joking about dusting as Nettie appears to run her own house. She encourages Vin to search out the boys his age that live down the road but he prefers his own company and that of the horses. Darting around corners he wins gunfights with his sharp shooting skills. Rough men, almost all of them disreputable, depend on him. He is a loner in a group of loners.

And yet when Nettie calls him for supper, he runs.

While his bed is not much bigger than the one at Haven House he sleeps on the edge for familiarities sake. The only thing he adds to his room is a sturdy wooden chair that he pushes under the doorknob at night.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," Nettie tells him, concerned, but she allows it.

Both Nettie and Ko-Je give him the space he seems to need to feel safe and relaxed although Ko-Je's nature pushes for more.

Aside from the half-forgotten time with his mother Vin has never been the only child and so even their tempered attention of him can lead him to hide. Despite being able to fit into small spaces they seem to know where he is at all times. Nettie is especially astute. One day she steps into the barn and calls out to the shadows, "What flavor of ice cream do you want?" Vin hesitates for his pride before crawling out to reveal that he has developed a taste for black cherry.

A kind of courtship begins to unfold.

Near the end of summer Nettie corners Vin and measures him for school clothes. He stoically submits and then bolts out the door before she can change her mind and tow him to Tascosa's newest mall.

By the middle of the afternoon the heat of the day has worn him out and he heads back inside for a drink. Ko-Je is in the kitchen getting a beer and a bag of chips from the pantry. He has Vin drink some water before he gives him a soda and then as if he has reconsidered his original plan he invites Vin to watch a game with an old man.

"C'mon," he says over his shoulder and Vin finally follows.

Ko-Je sits in the middle of the sofa and watches Vin take a chair at an angle from the TV. "You can see from there?" he asks.

Vin turns his head almost parallel to his shoulder and nods. Basketball. Ko-Je settles back with a sigh.

Vin watches the players run back and forth over the court with very little understanding of their goal. He holds his soda, forgotten, and keeps his eyes on the screen. At some point one player jams the ball down into the net making the crowd erupt. Ko-Je whoops and holds up his fists. The sudden noise makes Vin jump.

Ko-Je's notices. "Vin, you look like you're counting backwards waiting for a bomb to go off. Come over here and relax before you break your neck." He pats the ample amount of space on the sofa beside him.

Vin has been waiting, but no more. He knows now the price of the home he stays in, the food he eats, the clothes Nettie is buying for him - even the hard work he enjoys. None of it is surprising only that it took so long to come about.

Slowly he gets up and sets his soda on the coffee table. Kneeling between Ko-Je's legs he unbuttons his jeans, has the zipper down and is reaching inside of his shorts before Ko-Je leans forward and grabs him by the arms. Ko-Je looks furious, ready to shake him apart. He visibly gathers himself, raggedly catching his breath before he releases Vin and zips and buttons himself back up in quick, sharp movements. Vin is stunned and confused. He lowers his head and waits for Ko-Je to show him what he wants. No instructions or reprimands come. Instead Ko-Je kneels in front of him and places his still shaking hands on Vin's shoulders.

"Vin, if you wanted to pray you should have just said so."

Vin opens his mouth to correct him but no words find sound.

"That's all right," Ko-Je soothes. "I'll pray." And so he does. Singing softly over Vin's head he prays for his healing in an old language that Vin cannot understand but feels nonetheless. Ko-Je's voice is sweet and flawed and so powerful that an astonishing thing happens: A treaty is formed with his oldest fear.

Slowly, as if he is not sure he can do such a thing, Vin reaches around Ko-Je's waist as far as his arms will go and closes his eyes. It isn't until Ko-Je stops singing that he opens them to see Nettie sitting on an ottoman with department store bags all around her. Her eyes are red as she stifles clearing her throat. He wants to ask what has caused her upset but is too tired to follow it through.

Ko-Je reaches under Vin's arms and leans down to drape them around his neck. With a small grunt he stands and pats Vin soundly on the back as Vin rests his cheek on the top of his shoulder. Nettie stands and goes to them and kisses both Ko-Je and Vin. She gathers up the forgotten bags and then follows Ko-Je as he takes Vin to his room. With great care he lowers Vin onto his bed. Tugging and pulling he removes the hand-me-down clothes that Vin will never wear again. Taking the folded quilt at the foot of the bed he covers Vin and then sits on the edge and cups Vin's face in his hand. Vin opens his eyes to find Ko-Je looking back at him, calm and steady. He sees Ko-Je for the good man that he is and the realization lands like a blow to his chest.

Seeming to sense this, Ko-Je pulls Vin onto his side and pats him again on the back. The soft thud of his hand slows Vin's heart with its steady pace and lengthens his breath.

Silently Nettie empties his dresser drawers onto the floor turning his life before into nothing more than a pile of denim and threadbare cotton.

Vin is ten and nearly too big to be carried to bed so early and yet he closes his eyes and sleeps, untroubled.

Chanu

Vin and Chanu's friendship begins with two fights. Not unusual for twelve year old boys if Nettie and Ko-Je's calm response is any indicator.

Chanu steps off of the bus from Albuquerque and immediately sizes up Vin and dismisses him. The assessment does not go unnoticed and earns Chanu Vin's own disregard. Their silent war lasts all of one afternoon when one of them crowds the other, the other shoves back and then wild, frustrated punches split Chanu's lip, blacken Vin's cheekbone and send them inside for juice and band-aids.

Nettie watches them march through her kitchen, grim and humble and then follows Ko-Je's lead who goes back to his paper after glancing their way.

Vin finds the first aid kit under the bathroom sink while Chanu rinses his mouth and prods his swollen lower lip. They attend to their own wounds, looking at each other only briefly in the bathroom mirror.

Later, without a word spoken they sit at Nettie's supper table and establish a truce when Chanu passes Vin the salad bowl.

The following summer when Chanu visits his uncle again he brings more bags than a short stay warrants. Nettie rearranges the last guest bedroom until it is as empty as Vin's used to be. Chanu settles in. Come fall they ride the same bus to school and share Jr. High classes from a polite distance, always keeping at least two chairs between them. At home Ko-Je splits their chores, and their rewards, not allowing either his nephew or Vin any authority over the other.

As disciplined as they are to their indifference there are times when they forget themselves and offer more than shallow acceptance. Chanu can be blunt and sarcastic leaving Vin biting his lip trying not to smile. Chanu's appreciation is harder to track as it has more to do with gratitude. His uncle and aunt are dear to him even as he keeps himself out of their reach, too old and too proud at thirteen to accept even their spare affection. This makes Vin's gestures towards them all the more meaningful especially when it becomes apparent that it does not come naturally.

Vin's fealty is not something Chanu would measure again after the second fight, this one with Eli Joe.

Eli Joe is smaller than most bullies but lacks none of the bored, empty-eyed meanness his kind usually possess. His prejudices run deep and wide and are devoted to a hair-trigger temper. It was only a matter of time before his many deficiencies would meet, clash and tangle with Chanu.

Vin sees most of the fight from a distance but what happens is hard to misunderstand. Chanu, chin out, mouth running with something that obviously stumps Eli Joe ends up in a cloud of dust as Eli Joe knocks him to the ground. On his feet right away, Chanu, true to form, gives as good as he gets. Vin might have let them go at it if the fight, dirty as it is, remained between the two of them. When Marshall Yates, one of Eli Joe's flunkies joins in by restraining Chanu while Eli Joe pummels him, Vin comes running and knocks both Yates and Chanu to the ground. Eli Joe kicks Vin's lower back, knocking the wind out of him and causing a numb, warm kind of pain. Still gasping for air he pulls Chanu away from Yates and then throws himself at Eli Joe with blind fury and does not stop until Eli Joe rolls into a ball on the ground. Staggering over to Chanu who is getting to his feet with some difficulty, Vin would find out later that Eli Joe had recovered enough to wave off Yates and using Vin's doubled over posture as momentum grabbed Vin by the hair and ran him head first into one of the few trees on the school grounds. There is the dull thunk that seems to sound off inside of his head and no small amount of confusion and then his legs give out on him and he crumples to the ground. He hears a long angry yell as he tries to focus on the clouds in the sky. Other kids gather around him and block his view until Chanu pushes through them. Standing over Vin, wavering, he spits and then bares his bloody teeth.

"Hey, white-boy," Chanu pants, "I can fight my own battles."

Vin takes a moment to try and focus on him, gives up and asks, "You sure about that?" and then passes out. He does not see Chanu fall to his knees beside him and cry out for help.

He comes to right away but is unable to stay awake for long. The sight of Chanu snarling at anyone who comes near only adds to his confusion. His entire body aches. His arms and legs move in fits and starts with one of his hands completely immobilized by Chanu who holds it tightly between both of his. Vin tries to pull his hand free but when that doesn't work he squeezes Chanu's hand to get his attention. It works.

"Stop yelling," Vin groans. "My head. It's killing me."

Chanu simply takes a deep breath and starts to yell at Vin. "Tatanka!" he roars, which Vin thinks means buffalo. Or bull. Probably bull if Chanu's temper is to be considered.

Vin gives up trying to focus and imagines instead a black horse with white paint on its face. Beautiful and strong. He closes his eyes to see it more clearly.

"Tatanka," Chanu yells again, more plaintive this time.

Beautiful and strong and as sure footed as a mountain goat. Still wild and ill-tempered, he's sure of it as Chanu slaps his cheek trying to keep him from slipping away again. It's useless. The horse will wait for only so long.

At the hospital he is only slightly more lucid. Enough to tell them his name and the date each and every time they ask and enough for them to send him home after hours of observation. Despite the itch of stitches that run along his hairline it's his back that troubles him more. Settling into a dull ache it slips and grabs him without warning making him whoop for air.

Nettie and Ko-Je gather up both Vin and Chanu with their usual calm proficiency although Ko-Je looks as though he is simmering his temper. Vin sits quietly in the back seat of Nettie's Volvo while Chanu wiggles a loose tooth with his tongue.

Ko-Je pulls up close to the porch and leaves the car idling while everyone else piles out.

"Go on inside, boys," Nettie says and then goes to talk to Ko-Je through the car window.

Both Vin and Chanu wait on the porch as Nettie speaks quietly to her husband. Ko-Je looks straight ahead and finally shakes his head. Nettie sighs as if knowing her words will do no good and settles for kissing Ko-Je's temple in resignation. She watches him drive off and then turns her attention back to Vin and Chanu.

"Where's Ko-Je going?" Chanu asks.

"I'm pretty sure I told you both to go inside," Nettie answers and knowing that there will be no further information from her Chanu holds open the screen door while Vin lets them inside.

Vin soaks in the tub while Chanu showers and then they stand in the humid bathroom and compare bruises and scrapes.

"That asshole got you good," Chanu says as he takes in the bruise on Vin's lower back.

"I think I broke his nose - or maybe you did," Vin adds, trying to remember the chain of events.

"I would of done a whole lot more but you white-boys got a thing about knocking me into the dirt."

"Yeah - you're welcome," Vin counters and opens the bathroom door to a whoosh of cool air and leaves for his room.

Ko-Je returns home after dark to a supper of pancakes and scrambled eggs. Nettie keeps Vin and Chanu busy in the kitchen while Ko-Je changes his clothes. Vin is sure that Ko-Je's shirt pocket is torn and his jeans look dustier than usual.

Ko-Je joins them at the kitchen table and breaks the silence when he forks two truly blue blueberry pancakes onto his plate. "Nettie I think these boys broke into your kitchen again."

"What can I do?" she asks, deadpan, "Someone showed them how to turn on the griddle and it wasn't me."

Vin passes Ko-Je the syrup, unable to hide his smile at Nettie and Ko-Je's mock sternness. The smile fades when he sees the scrapes on Ko-Je's knuckles not unlike the ones that he and Chanu sport. Ko-Je follows his eyes and then uses his fork again to point at Vin's plate.

"Eat your supper, Vin."

It takes a moment for Vin to comply. He realizes that he has assumed the reason Ko-Je never raised his hand to them was because he couldn't. That it was not in his nature or his power to use force. Seeing for himself that Ko-Je is capable of throwing his fists but would only use his humor on them refashions him yet one more time in Vin's esteem.

As if fatigue were a defense against his own emotions Vin yawns widely and blinks and eats until Ko-Je stands over him ready to carry him again. With quick, jerky movements Vin lifts his head out the palm of his hand and sets the fork he had been loosely holding down on his plate with a clang. Half awake, dizzy, he stands and waves Ko-Je off. Another arm wraps around his shoulders and steadies him.

"I got him," Chanu says and then slowly begins to turn Vin out of the kitchen. As unsteady as he is Vin digs in his heels and turns around.

Ko-Je and Nettie are clearing the table, plates in their hands but they pause to watch Vin.

"Thank you," he says, although he can't say for exactly what. "Thank you."

"Go on to bed now," Nettie replies, voice gentle. "We'll wake you up every couple of hours to make sure you're all right."

"I can do that," Chanu volunteers. "Really."

"All right, then," Nettie acquiesces, somewhat surprised. "Take my alarm clock."

"Nah, I don't need it. I got what you call an inner clock." Chanu nods while Nettie and Ko-Je exchange a look.

"Call us if you need to," Ko-Je instructs. "It'll be a long night."

"Will do," Chanu assures them then puts his arm around Vin again and leads him to his room.

"Hey, man" Vin mumbles in the hallway, trying to shrug off Chanu's hold but the effort makes him stumble.

"See?" Chanu teases him. "See how you are?"

Chanu releases Vin only to let him crawl into bed and watches him shift around trying to find a comfortable way to rest. Leaning forward, his hands on his knees, he asks, "OK, what's your name? What's the date?"

"Fuck you," Vin replies, biting back a laugh.

Chanu frowns. "No, that's not right. Maybe I should call for help."

"Maybe you should," Vin shoots back, trying to threaten him with a look but all Chanu does is smile.

"See you in a couple, Tatanka."

Vin makes a grunting sound and then is asleep. Chanu watches him for a moment and then pads out leaving Vin's normally closed door ajar.

True to his word Chanu returns two hours later, sleep addled, with a pillow and a blanket. Shaking Vin's shoulder gently he mumbles, "Scoot over."

Vin wakes up frowning but moves back with some effort and no small amount of discomfort.

Seeing this Chanu places his pillow behind Vin's back. "Here," he says, suddenly alert and careful. "Lean against this." Unusually compliant, Vin does as he's told and then sighs in relief. "Better?" Vin nods. "You'll probably be able to tell when it's gonna rain - shit like that."

Vin decides it's best not to say anything even as Chanu climbs onto his bed, cocoons himself in his blanket and helps himself to half of Vin's pillow. Finally still, he looks at Vin and asks seriously, "What's your name? What's the date?" Vin moves his hand from under the covers and gives Chanu the finger.

"That's my boy," Chanu says and closes his eyes.

"Did-" Vin begins, "Did you see Ko-Je's hands?"

Chanu opens his eyes. "Yeah. He must have kicked some ass."

"Yeah. But not ours."

"Why would he do that?"

Vin shrugs, unwilling to say more. Chanu watches him and even in the dim light it's enough to make Vin squirm.

"Relax. I'll wake you up soon enough."

His inner clock accurate, Chanu wakes Vin again by tugging on his chin.

"Vin Tanner. June 5th," Vin says, trying to beat Chanu to the punch.

Chanu nods. "Way to end the school year, man," and goes back to sleep.

The long Summer provides an overheated environment for their friendship to grow. There is a wordless economy to it that Vin holds in high regard. Without discussion their chores become a common list of things to do. Feed horses, muck the stalls, take out the trash. Watch each others back.

He finds Chanu surprisingly easy to be around when his temper is not directed at him. His sarcasm always has a ring of truth to it. Loyal too, ready to use that very same humor to disarm anyone who crosses him or Vin.

As easy as it can be with him, Chanu also taxes Vin, calling on his time and energy as well as his patience. Even more so than Ko-Je Chanu's nature pushes for more, always more, as if any reaction he might elicit isn't real until it's fueled by exasperation. Even Ko-Je has met his limit with Chanu, raising his voice before he throws his hands out in a pleading gesture towards Nettie and lets her take over.

Back at school they share more classes and their grades improve. Vin struggles with reading but retains facts easily and so Chanu reads out loud while Vin dictates carefully worded papers.

Chanu sits on Vin's bed hunched over a poem Vin wrote for English class and then looks up at Vin silently.

"What?" Vin asks, grabbing the paper away and looking for glaring errors, misplaced letters and finding none. "What?" he asks again, more agitated.

Chanu grins at him. "Nothing. It's good. You should keep writing."

Vin looks at his poem again and then Chanu trying to figure out which one is getting something past him.

Not helping matters any Chanu tousles Vin's growing hair. "Goodnight, Walt Whitman," he says and then slips off of the bed.

"Hey," Vin calls out to him as he leaves, "try shutting the door this time."

"Sure. No problem." But as always Chanu leaves the door open just enough to let the sounds from the rest of the house drift in.

In all matters, Vin disciplines himself to take half of what he wants and to expect even less. It's a practice that staves off disappointment, although not entirely. There are parts of himself that will be damned if they are not heard and dealt with. He feels them most strongly when he is distracted or tired. With his usual defenses low he acts on impulses that would otherwise be kept in check.

Chanu sits cross-legged on the foot of Vin's bed, his back against the wall. "I tried calling Claire," he says, folding his homework into a paper crane.

Vin shuts down the computer that Nettie and Ko-Je dug into their reserves to buy. Somehow typing is easier than writing and while mistakes are still made they are easier to catch and correct. "Yeah?" Vin asks, rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah. Got her dad. Said she was out with her youth group from church. I don't think he's going to give her the message that I called."

"Why not?"

Chanu snorts. "He doesn't approve."

Vin props his chin in his hand and watches Chanu turn something as mundane as a history report into art. Making the last fold Chanu flies the crane around while making hawk noises. Vin grins. "What's not to approve?"

Chanu tosses the crane at Vin who catches it after it hits him square in the chest. He studies it for a moment, too proud to ask how it's done and decides to backwards engineer it later.

They are seventeen.

Setting the crane on his desk he crawls up on the bed some distance from Chanu. His back aches from sitting too long and he wants to stretch out but not if it will cause Chanu to leave. "She likes you," Vin assures and then tips sideways letting his head rest on Chanu's leg. When he stretches his own legs out his back pops.

"Oh, man," Chanu laughs, "I heard that. You OK?"

Vin nods and is almost ready to sit up when Chanu's hand lands in his hair. Chanu scratches lazily down to his scalp and then pulls a wavy lock to its full length. "You make a pretty good Indian."

Vin snorts and runs his own hand through his hair. "Thanks." He rolls onto his back to get more comfortable and Chanu sets his hand in Vin's hair again as if he has all the time in the world to search for a needle in a haystack. When Vin looks up he sees that Chanu is looking off into some private distance. Without thought Vin reaches up to tug on his chin, bring him back to the here and now, tease him for leaving in the first place but instead, his fingertips run along his chin, reach further up to a smooth cheek and linger there. Only slightly startled, Chanu grins down at him, amused. Vin is unsure what his eyes reveal but he watches Chanu's grin fade to be replaced with something close to concern. The hand in his hair becomes still and then tries to soothe. Chanu takes a breath to say something but a knock on the door reveals Nettie. Vin snatches his hand away and sits up so fast that Chanu's hand momentarily catches in his hair.

Nettie takes a moment to puzzle out the sparks of tension. Vin's back is to her, so embarrassed he appears to be mad while Chanu is quiet and still.

Vin slips off the bed and turns on the computer with no real purpose in mind.

"Chanu," Nettie says, "you have a phone call."

Vin can feel Chanu looking at him and wills the computer to boot up faster.

"Chanu, don't keep her waiting."

"Yes, ma'am," Chanu says but he seems pained to go.

Finally Vin accesses a pinball game and begins losing, the machine honking back at him.

Nettie passes Chanu and comes up beside Vin who is struggling to keep his focus only on the game.

"Did you finish your homework?" she asks, voice gentle, as she tucks his hair behind his ear only somewhat successfully.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hmmm, I'm getting the ma'am treatment tonight." Vin seems unable to reply. She runs the back of her fingers down his cheek and then swats his shoulder with the same hand. "Ko-Je is going to finish off that apple pie if you don't stop him."

Vin forces a smile but is still unable to look at her. She touches his shoulder again, gentle again, and then leaves his room the same way Chanu has taught her, with the door ajar.

Vin lets the game come to a stop except for the cheerful tones in the background and gulps for air.

An apology comes to mind, but for what, escapes him.

Something has come to the surface, a small bubble filled with smoke, obscuring any detail. Vin senses that it contains something he will have to learn about himself, on his own and awkwardly. It's a part of him, the same way his blue eyes are or his stubbornness although not as obvious.

Ko-Je pushes Vin's door open with the toe of his shoe. Vin smiles at the pie tin in his hand and makes room for it on the desk. Ko-Je hands him a fork and then takes a bite with his own. Vin follows his lead and for a while all they share is the sweet cinnamon taste of apple pie.

"Looks like Chanu has himself a girlfriend," Ko-Je says, seemingly more interested in the pie.

Vin nods. "Claire Mosely. He's liked her for a long time. Since Christmas."

"That long, huh?"

"Yeah. They drew each others names when our home room had a gift exchange."

"What a coincidence. Sounds like someone was paid off."

Vin takes another bite, unwilling to reveal that Chanu gave him nothing but a smile and a slap on the back in exchange for Claire's name.

"He probably won't have much time for us for a while," Ko-Je points out in that same distracted way.

"I reckon."

"Doesn't mean he won't be there for us."

Vin looks up, startled, only to find Ko-Je intent on the pie. "I know," he says hoping to head off any further comment.

Ko-Je spares him a look. "Last bite's yours."

Vin takes it but despite how good it tastes he finds it hard to swallow.

Ko-Je watches him for a moment and then gathers up the bare pie tin and forks. "Did you do your homework?"

"All done."

"Good. Don't stay up too late." Ko-Je stands up. "School tomorrow."

"Yeah." Vin waits for Ko-Je to leave even while he composes and tosses out ways to ask him to stay.

"Goodnight, Vin," Ko-Je says after a moment and then bends and kisses his forehead as if it is a nightly gesture.

"Goodnight," Vin mumbles, stunned. He turns off the computer again and finds that he is suddenly tired, yawning and blinking. He strips down to his boxers and crawls into bed which turns out to be the one thing that brings him wide awake. He rolls onto his stomach and brings the covers just over his head despite it being a warm May night.

From under the blankets and through the open door Vin can still hear the familiar sounds of the house settling down for the night. The TV is turned off and the resulting silence seems to cue the crickets outside. Down the hall Chanu deepens his voice for the phone. "Yeah. No really." The pipes in the wall rattle as the bathroom sink is turned on. Ko-Je calls out to Nettie when he is unable to find the new tube of toothpaste. Vin's heart pounds in his ears despite how still he is.

Vin isn't sure how much time has gone by when Chanu eases open his door. "Hey Vin, you really asleep?" he asks quietly just in case Vin is.

Vin puts his body through the odd task of feigning deep sleep, muscles instantly relaxed, body limp while his skin registers the heat under the bedding, the soft feel of it and even the fact that Chanu is coming closer.

Chanu sits on the edge and carefully pulls the covers back from Vin's face. "You're gonna smother...," Chanu mumbles to himself, sounding very much like Nettie. He pushes Vin's hair away from his face and then sets his hand to the same lazy search as before at the crown of Vin's head. Vin gives up the ruse and opens his eyes but doesn't look at Chanu.

"You mad at me?" Chanu asks.

"No," Vin says and knows it's the truth.

"Because if you are I want to make it right."

"I'm not mad, Chanu," Vin reassures and then tells a half lie. "Just tired."

"OK," Chanu says after some time. "OK...I'll wake you up tomorrow."

Vin snorts thinking of some of the less subtle ways Chanu has done just that.

Chanu grips Vin's hair in his fist almost hard enough to hurt and then leaves. "Goodnight, possum," he says from the doorway.

Vin waits for a while then gets up scratching his head and goes to the door, always left open a few inches and closes it with a soft snick. The sounds from the rest of the house are silenced.

Weeks later, on Vin's eighteenth birthday he joins the Army. The first thing they do is cut his hair.

The Years In Between

The Army subsumed Vin into its ranks but unlike his family allowed him all of the faceless anonymity a man like himself could want until they needed him to act.

He remembers that time the way most people remember a dream. Vivid and surreal for all of the banal details. Endless days of routine and order interrupted by sudden flight to a black op mission where he would be left to wait again until his target was in site. A humble man required to act like the eye of God, unblinking, still and wrathful. Through the same cross-hairs he saw hostages and citizens running and staggering to or from their rescuers. And then with the same suddenness he stepped through the mirror again to find that he had been gone for weeks, sometimes months and in his absence a life he felt ever further removed from went on without him. Chanu married Claire while he turned twenty-two in a hostile country. The thick wedding invitation remained unopened. Nettie sent candy and coffee and seemed satisfied with an occasional postcard. In an Army hospital in Germany he fought through the pain of a bullet wound in his shoulder and the medication that dulled him to find that a thin letter from Nettie, several weeks old, had finally found him. It told him that Ko-Je had passed away in his sleep and asked him for the first time to let her know that he was well and coming home soon.

When he did return home, no longer a soldier but a man with both state secrets and his own, he left his Purple Heart at the arroyo where Ko-Je's ashes had been scattered.

Nettie, distracted by her grief, fussed over Vin for days and he let her, feeling the same urge to make things right and knowing he couldn't. Then, as if coming out of a fog she woke early one morning and began packing. A small stack of boxes contained only the most necessary items to set up a new home along with the hepplewhite chair Vin had used to secure his door. The house that Vin grew up in was sold with speed in mind and not profit and despite the ache he felt leaving it behind he helped her move to a small apartment in downtown Tascosa.

Seeing her there, making the best of an untenable situation he felt his grief as if he had lost her, too. Sensing this, Nettie sent him on his way, both of them knowing the only thing they could do was outlive their grief.

Vin found himself in Dallas searching out his Army buddy Bobby who assured him of a job as a bounty hunter if Vin could find his way out of the Panhandle. The work was steady and turned the states into a great social laboratory if not a home. Human behavior played itself out before him in all its many manifestations. Loyalties were tested and some held while others fell by the wayside. Dangerous men who seemed unafraid of anything else would hide out in their mother's den even when they had the means to go anywhere.

Bobby, grateful for the revenue Vin brought in never mentioned how Vin would sometimes stay in whatever city he caught their skip and Vin never told anyone how he would put his loneliness to rest in those anonymous places. All the acts that he had written off as curiosity or dependent on a particular situation were given their proper weight as he found out exactly what a man could do with another man.

It was not something that he gave into every time. His lifelong habit of sitting back, not entirely out of reach, but still removed from the brunt of other people left him self-contained, ready to ward off a helping hand but not adverse to offering his own. It was a curious mix that drew shy women to smile at him with no idea of how to get closer and men who felt challenged to do just that.

His profession left him with a reason to always be on his way and to his relief he did not have to use it all that often. He learned their names and let the sound of their voices tell him more than their patter and then followed them home and into bed. He kissed their faces and slipped from the weight of their arms and more often than not they smiled at him, closed their eyes to sleep and let him find his own way out.

In a Denver motel he went through his voice mail. Bobby with some details for the next job. A hang up and then one from Nettie asking him to call, no matter the hour.

Nettie was already at an airport waiting to board when he called to find out that somewhere along the hour long drive from Albuquerque to Santa Fe after visiting her family Claire had gone missing. Chanu was frantic and the already contentious relationship he had with his in-laws had degraded even further into blame. Hours later when he had reached Santa Fe in the early morning the police had already found her body half way home on the side of I-25.

Chanu's grief took the form of anger which only brought into sharp relief more police attention. Vin used both reason and some shoving in an effort to calm Chanu down but the only thing that worked also devastated him further. The knowledge that his father-in-law had received the news that he would be a grandfather soon by strangling Claire and leaving her on the side of the road left him too stunned to act or speak or cry. An astute detective had gone to Reverend Mosely's home and asked him if he wanted to pray and he had and with it came his confession.

The loss of his young wife and the child she was carrying took with it Chanu's resiliency. Something essential had been chipped off leaving a ragged edge and no hope of restoration.

Another detective tried to relate the details as gently as possible to Chanu who stood up but had nowhere to go. Both Vin and Nettie stepped towards Chanu but Vin reached him first. He put his arm around his shoulders to sit him down again but Chanu turned and pressed his face against Vin's neck. The sound that came out of Chanu was not loud but could not be mistaken for anything else but a wail. It called to Vin's own grief and made him squeeze his eyes shut and pull Chanu into a rough hug. He held on and let the cry tear through him. The detective left his card with Nettie while Chanu whimpered breathlessly.

Vin stayed for the funeral and then left the next day. He doubts if Chanu noticed.

Purgatorio

It stops raining just as Vin reaches the southern edge of Four Corners and enters the neighborhood of Purgatorio. Aptly named, it is neither heaven nor hell. Insulated by its own bad reputation from politicians and other animals who lack the ability to appreciate its citizens it has thrived long after others have given up on its gentrification.

He slows down and lets his Jeep idle heavily along as he looks under his broken visor at his new home. White sunlight shines through heavy cloud cover giving the old neighborhood a spectral glow. Adding to it are the ornate churches that seem to bookend every other corner. The adobe architecture in-between is sturdy and unpretentious, refusing to be perfect, as it is, after all, made out of mud with most of the buildings no more than two stories tall. So unlike downtown Four Corners with its glass front skyscrapers reflecting back at each other, See how pretty you are? There is a refreshing lack of chain stores with most of the businesses privately owned and indicative of a population practical in nature: small grocery stores, auto shops, shoe repair.

Built in a more optimistic time after a second world war the neat rows of houses are small bungalows or more adobe and vary widely in color and trim. An occasional oak or cottonwood stands sentry in a front yard with its roots reaching out under tall grass only to upend a section of sidewalk. Rose vines climb over trellises and chain link fence ready to bloom white, pink and vibrant red after a long winter. Women call to their children in English and scold in Spanish giving away that this a matriarchal society run by the edicts of busy, no nonsense mothers and the Fathers of their church.

Vin smiles his understanding. Of course Nettie came here. Purgatorio draws its own kind. Like the neighborhood she lives in Nettie is strong and unassuming, somewhat dangerous if approached badly and beautiful in her own way.

He follows her instructions and turns left on Amistosa, passing a fenced in school yard and a small grocery store and then comes to the end of the street where a taller building stands that was obviously once a hotel. Smooth brown sandstone give it a weathered, timeless look while scattered graffiti place it firmly in the here and now. As if it is an association requirement bars cover the windows and the wide double doors that open out on the corner.

Not for the first time he wonders how his relationship with Nettie has remained such a steady force in his life when every other aspect has shifted under his feet. There is no common blood to bind them or even a legal obligation from the state of Texas and yet when he needs it he has always had her number and address in his pocket and, of course, she has always been able to find him.

The itch that he has failed somehow by coming to Four Corners to live under her roof - however big - worries him. So strange to have fought on foreign soil and, until the end, never needed anything more than a hot shower to recover while home has proven to be so much more demanding.

He releases the seat belt and hears it clatter against the floorboard but doesn't move from there. Sighing, his sore ribs catch him after the long drive. The bruises on his face are only starting to fade with yellow ringing red and black marks. The thought of Nettie's clean, thorough appraisal of him makes him squirm.

I went to a bar and couldn't wait to leave. All the reasons that drove me there deserted me as soon as I ordered a beer. I finished half of it to get my moneys worth and left. There were four of them. Their faces are a blur. All I could hear was grunts from the effort it took to knock me down. No one even bothered to call me a faggot.

A train whistle blows from somewhere far off. Vin raises his head and sees Nettie and Casey standing on the stoop waiting for him to notice them. Casey leaps on to the sidewalk and opens his door before he can reach for it. She takes in the stiff way he slips from the Jeep and her eyes try not to linger on his bruises. She raises up on her toes and then reins herself back from throwing her arms around him. She has grown in the years since he's seen her but her enthusiasm is still artless.

He puts his arms around her and squeezes her as best he can. "You sure have grown up," he says and then smiles when her giggle tickles his ear and proves him wrong.

As Casey goes to the back of his Jeep to unload his bag he straightens his spine to greet Nettie. There have only been a handful of times that he has seen her since Ko-Je died and the sight of her without him never fails to grab him around the throat. He puts his arms around her as if they are newly grieving and swallows his high emotions when he feels her hand pat him reassuringly on the shoulder.

Pulling back he takes in the sight of her. She has aged but the lines somehow suit her as if her body has finally caught up with her old soul. The added loss of her sister two years before shows on her, too, while the opportunity to watch over Casey in a new town seems to have given her a worthy challenge. Her once long hair is now cropped short and entirely silver but that suits her as well. A practical woman, her cotton clothes are worn in layers.

"I reckon time is telling on me," she says plainly but her eyes shine.

"You're beautiful," Vin tells her without hesitation and her small smile tells him that she hears the honesty in his voice.

A commotion sounds off where Casey is pulling Vin's duffle bag out of the Jeep. Slinging it over her shoulder it nearly dwarfs her and yet she asks with some concern, "Is this it? Is this all you have?"

"Well, yeah...," Vin says reaching for it.

Casey passes him. "I got it," she tells him somewhat peevishly as if his lack of worldly goods deserves a scolding. "Good thing we went shopping," she says over her shoulder to Nettie.

Vin turns his attention back to Nettie. "You went shopping? For what? I don't need anything, Nettie."

"C'mon, now," she says and hooks her arm through his. "No need for all this fuss."

A gentleman now, he escorts her up the steps where she unlocks the heavy doors and then hands the set of keys to Vin. The message is clear: You are not visiting. This is home.

If the outside has been marched into the present the inside is a stroll into the past. The large atrium lobby showcases tiers of cast iron balcony railings with ornate grillwork panels. To the left is a sitting area that actually looks to be used with a great fireplace that also looks to be in working order. To the right is a bank of mailboxes where Nettie and Casey introduce him to some of his new neighbors. Making their way further in Casey pushes a button that rings back at her and what appears to be a large birdcage turns out to be their elevator. Vin steps in cautiously after Nettie and Casey who closes the gate with a clang and then pushes the button for the fifth floor.

"You're going to love this," Casey reassures him with more of her enthusiasm but he is not reassured at all when it lurches upward with some amount of rattling. By the time it slows at the fourth floor and then rallies to the fifth Vin has dedicated himself to the stairs.

At the end of the hall Casey dumps his bag unceremoniously at his door and then drags it inside when he unlocks it. Taking his hand she hauls him through the large apartment. Her excited talk drifts over him as he takes in his new surroundings. The living room is nearly triangular with a built in seat bridging a set of three windows that look out west, north and east. To the left is a fireplace with what looks to be onyx framing it. The walls are freshly painted white while gold and muted green Persian rugs are scattered on the maple floorboards. A large TV seems to have been on their shopping list along with a used though nicely kept love seat and an overstuffed chair. The kitchen and bathroom give away that it was built before indoor plumbing was common with pipes running outside of the walls and into a claw footed tub and a kitchen sink that looks big enough to bathe in. The bedroom is much like his childhood one with a large comfortably made bed and a dresser and nothing else. He supposes he will be left again to fill in the corners.

When Vin comes back out into the living room Nettie is putting dry dishes from the drain into a cupboard. He leans against the wide bar separating them with Casey beside him. "Looks like I got the Presidential Suite?" which Casey smiles at and takes as a compliment.

Nettie keeps her back to him and busies herself with wiping down the stove. "In 1860 it was the Presidential Suite, now it's yours."

"I'm used to living in motels, Nettie. This is more than I need."

Nettie snaps the hand towel and drapes it through the refrigerator door handle and then turns to face him. "Well, you've got that half right. It's more than you're used to but it's not more than you need." She comes around the counter and with some effort he straightens up again to meet her. Taking Vin's face in her hands she says, "Let an old woman fuss over you a bit. You know it won't last long."

Vin smiles at the truth of her statement.

"I'm in apartment 101, Casey is in 103. You know supper is at 7. Come on down if you're not too tired from your trip." She pats his cheek.

"I'll be there."

"Chicken and dumplings."

"Sounds good."

For one long moment Nettie searches his face before she finds everything there that she needs to know. With another pat to his cheek, this one careful and tender, she lets him go.

Casey follows in Nettie's wake, smiling over her shoulder and closing the door soundly before Vin can remember to say thank you.

Alone, the apartment looms around him. He wonders how he will ever fill it - all this space that clamors for people and music and the kind of socializing he has only known at grade school Halloween parties. He has nothing to offer this place but his willingness to keep it clean until he can find something more appropriate. Or until he moves on.

He remembers his need to hear a familiar voice and blames it on the painkillers. They had dulled the pain for his ribs but had done nothing for the ache that had settled over his chest. Sitting on the edge of his bed in a nondescript motel in Phoenix he had dialed Nettie's number without thought. She was delighted to hear from him and kept asking if he was all right. The last time she asked he found it hard to breathe. She gave him a long moment and then said, "Come on home, you fool." And so he did, even though New Mexico had never been his home before.

Vin stands in his empty apartment and calls out, "Hellooo," and then waits patiently for his echo to call him back.

The Magnificent Seven

Later, when it was all over, Mary Travis would report her own story in The Clarion News. It would run on the front page, above the fold, for three days. Told in a crisp, professional manner, the bare facts nonetheless spoke of greed, malice and senseless loss. The details of Guy Royal's brutal, two-fisted collection of wealth would leave most readers caught between disbelief and cynicism.

The Royal R Ranch appeared to be one of the best and most profitable quarter horse ranches in the state. Guy Royal's reputation for hard bargains went hand in hand with the obvious quality of his stock. Not surprisingly, smaller ranchers complained over his monopoly until they were either bought out or left the area entirely.

This would have been business as usual if not for the untimely death of a single ranch hand named Jess Kincaid. His body along with the body of the horse that trampled him to death was reported to police before it could be covered up. It was initially treated as an accident until it was discovered that the horse was actually being used as a mule for the transportation of cocaine. When one of the packages broke the cocaine was released into the horses system making it highly agitated until even Jess Kincaid's calm, sure way with animals failed them both.

Even this was dismissed as the over ambitious plot of an itinerant worker to strike it big with one drug deal that went horribly wrong. Jess Kincaid's sister, Terry Greer voiced her strong disagreement until the police shut her out drawing the interest of an investigative reporter named Steven Travis.

Steven had already been investigating the ever growing franchise that Guy Royal was amassing under rumors of violence and extortion. Jess Kincaid's death along with the circumstances surrounding it only fed his desire to uncover the truth. Believing that he could only get to the root of the story from the inside, Steven passed himself off as yet another ranch hand at the Royal R. Twelve days later his phone calls to his wife Mary abruptly stopped. The next day she reported him missing. He would not be found for another fifteen months.

Vin's part in finding Steven would always strike him as negligible in that at the time he had no idea that he was helping out six other private investigators. On that early Spring morning his only concern had been for Nathan.

Something about Nathan called to him even before they got into the habit of running interference for each other. Both were willing to put their backs into their work without prompt or complaint which allowed them to get along with most of the other ranch hands. Still, there were the men who could not find the patience to explain a simple task to Nathan or who just didn't like the color of his skin or the length of Vin's hair.

Nathan had an uncanny sense of timing that meant that he would show up when Vin's detractors were about to start throwing punches. Unable to decide who riled them more they would leave Vin and Nathan with nothing more than an earful of redundant cussing.

For his part, Vin tried to keep Nathan busy and out of the line of fire. Curious where Vin was more observant, Nathan also had an uncanny ability to seek out more than his fair share of trouble. He seemed to carry an odd fascination for the short-tempered men who worked directly under Guy Royal. Vin cared little for them as they appeared to be nothing more than hired muscle.

Those very same men seemed to be in a rush on the morning that Vin's life would take yet another hard left leaving him to catch up at some later date. Not surprisingly, Nathan was not too far behind them.

"Aww hell," Vin grumbled to himself and then called out, "Nathan! Nathan, I need your help over here."

Across the expansive corral Nathan cupped his hand to his ear like a politician ducking a hard question and then waved to Vin. The savvy it took to be brushed off like that made Vin laugh even as he called out his name again and watched as Nathan ignored him and rounded the same corner as Royal's men.

Vin yanked on his work gloves as his amusement turned into a kind of angry resignation that Nathan might have to get his nose broken before he learned to keep away from such men. Feeling the weight of someone's eyes on him he looked up just in time to see another ranch hand, dressed all in black, jump off the corral railing and head slowly in the same direction as Nathan.

On the verge of praying for indifference Vin wrestled with himself for only a few moments before he went into the stable and pulled a rifle from a rack that was used to ward off large predators. Somehow, it seemed fitting.

Cautiously, Vin left the corral with the rifle held close to his leg so as not to draw any more attention to the goings on of a few ranch hands and followed in their footsteps. At the edge of a barn used for storage he heard a distinct click and brought his own rifle up, ready to fire as he swung around the corner. Calm as could be the man in black held a gun on Vin while Vin pointed his rifle at him. Adrenaline made Vin's skin sting but aside from that he felt no threat from the man in front of him despite the standoff they were engaged in. A muffled yell from inside pulled at their attention. Still looking at Vin the man tipped his head to the left with such a small gesture that Vin thought he might have missed it if he didn't have him in his site. Vin returned it with a small nod of his own and together they lowered their guns and agreed to save Nathan.

Each taking a barn door they swung them open flooding the inside with light. The men inside wheeled around and squinted ag

ainst the sudden illumination. Drawing their guns they began to fire blindly as Nathan hung from a rope that just kept his feet from touching the ground. While Vin's new acquaintance fired back sending them hiding behind spindly furniture Vin fired at the rope over the beam and missed. Adjusting his aim without the site he fired again and hit the rope dropping Nathan to the ground. In amazement Vin watched as one man was left to do nothing but hold completely still as every direction he headed in was fired at. The two other men threw out their guns and were soon face down in the dirt.

The gunslinger cut the rope around Nathan's wrist and feet and then carefully removed the noose around his neck. Speaking softly he said, "Hey, Nate, you all right? Huh? Yeah, you're all right," to which Nathan coughed and gasped for air. Finally he looked at Vin who had his rifle trained on the men and settled the mystery. "Name's Chris."

Vin spared him a look. "Vin Tanner. New in town?"

The corner of Chris's mouth barely moved but it was still a smile.

Chris leaned Nathan against his chest and wrapped his arms loosely around his waist as Nathan caught his breath. "The boys are on the way," he said reassuringly and it seemed to work. Nathan nodded and placed his hand over Chris's and entwined their fingers into a neat fist.

Vin looked at them again and saw the small earpiece that Chris was wearing. It was only then that he began to realize that he was in the middle of something bigger than even the attempted murder of Nathan.

The ranch took on a carnival-like atmosphere where police car lights threw red and blue up against stunned faces. The very beginning of a long inventory of possessions started with some of the larger pieces and worked down to the smaller more precious ones.

Vin was taken aside by several different officers who asked the same questions over and over again as was Chris and Nathan. Each time they returned to each others company and each time there was one more added to the fold.

First Buck, rangy and energetic and seemingly unable to tell if Nathan and Chris were all right until he hugged them.

Chris stepped back and said, "Easy, big fella. Folks will talk," causing Buck to smile down on him.

Buck watched Vin sidle up just behind Chris and asked Chris, "He with us?" Chris gave him one of his spare nods and yet it seemed to satisfy him.

Josiah showed up with JD which only made the contrast in their size and temperaments more obvious with Josiah calm and imposing at the same time and JD small and eager to hear all of the details of what had happened. By the time Ezra arrived they were in a loose dog pile that Vin had seen men fall into before when he was in the Army. Having noticed rope fibers embedded in Nathan's skin Ezra, his southern accent in full bloom, called over an EMT as if he was asking for service from a recalcitrant waiter.

"May I bother you to look at this good man while you are here? Thank you."

At one point Nathan reached over and patted Vin's knee with some force and then grabbed his wrist and shook it with a hoarse laugh. Vin looked at him and saw that he was tired but clear-eyed with none of the childlike doubt of before. Vin looked at Chris and asked, "He ain't slow, is he?" which caused Chris to duck his head to hide a more obvious smile before he replied, "No, he ain't."

While Mary Travis's article went to great lengths to credit the six private investigators and one hired hand for bringing justice to light it was a swarm of police officers, detectives and crime scene investigators who took over. Warrants were served on what had been treated as a cold case for the last six months. Royal's men began to make deals and talk before they were even removed from the property. The front door to Royal's house was opened to reveal more of his collection of furniture, jewelry, vases and several items that would turn out to have only sentimental value. In the corner of one room a cockatiel said "hello" to each and every person who passed it. In a ceramic bowl of no value was a tangle of watches, bracelets and rings. One ring, made of platinum, held an inscription that read, "Forever, Love Mary".

Late into the night a shallow grave was discovered and a week later the remains of Steven Travis were finally laid to rest by those that survived him: his father, retired Judge Orin Travis, his young son Billy and his wife, Mary. Her husband's wedding ring would not be returned to her until after the long trial.

For Mary, the men who were hired by her father-in-law to solve the horrible mystery of what had happened to Steven would never be given their proper due and yet, in her esteem they would always be magnificent.

Before he even said yes to joining Travis Investigations Vin was already one of seven.

A Map of Four Corners

Vin admires how Four Corners refuses to be entirely paved over. Its old west past shows itself daily. The wind, coming in from the desert blows down through the canyon walls of sky scrapers as red tailed hawks perch on street lamps. At night coyotes run across six lanes of deserted intersection to eat out of the dumpsters of high end restaurants.

It is indomitable, in part because of its location, on the edge of the desert, not far from the mountains, but also because of the citizens that it claims. Wealthy men wear overalls with fat money clips tucked into the bib while matrons join planning commissions and speak of xeriscape when choosing the landscaping for the newest business center or park.

The curious mix of ubiquitous storefronts and understated individualism snare people like Vin who were otherwise passing through. There is also, what is for him, a large number of people who seem to have conspired to make him feel at home.

It starts with Nettie who takes it upon herself to hook her arm through his and have him escort her through Purgatorio on errands she can easily handle herself. Her true purpose seems to be to introduce Vin to shop owners, neighbors, priests, beat cops, corner eccentrics all the way down to which dogs jump the fence and where to return them.

Not to be left out or underestimated, Casey takes him up the gentle rise of steps to the Natural History museum and also to a smaller one closer to home that showcases the Old West. He catches her smiling at him as he loses himself in a series of photographs of 1870's downtown Four Corners. Baths for 5 cents Casey points out. More saloons than churches Vin counters. And there, Watson's Hardware which still operates although more as a tourist attraction in Old Town Four Corners.

On another day they head halfway down the alphabet of streets to yet another building almost indistinguishable from the rest. The lobby is small and houses three necessities to Travis Investigations: a twenty-four hour diner that serves breakfast at any hour, a travel agency for chasing down leads and skips and a Starbucks.

Vin waits for Casey to order a black coffee for him and a tongue twisting concoction over ice for herself before heading up to the eleventh floor. On a Saturday the building is nearly deserted.

It's not the first time that Casey has been to the office where Vin works but each time he uses his key card to open the glass door she barrels in as if it is a newly discovered amusement park. He follows her past the empty reception counter where Gloria Potter handles calls, arranges flights and a myriad of other tasks that keep the investigators productive. Beyond her workspace is a set of built in desks, facing outward in a circle. Each desk has its own computer although JD's has more peripherals and consequently takes up more space. In the middle of this is a conference table that's rarely used as they have become accustomed to wheeling their chairs around and calling out to each other. A white board with an empty red timeline, on the other hand, is often used.

After years of working on his own with nothing more than a warrant and a cell phone the hypermodern office with its cherry wood surfaces seems an improbable place for Vin to end up. And yet a year has passed and every time he pursues a skip he impatiently returns and inevitably there is someone waiting for him.

"Chris!" Casey squeals, startling both Chris and Vin.

Chris pushes away from his desk and tweaks Casey's cheek even after she punches him in the arm.

"Didn't mean to scare you," she says but her smile makes him wonder.

"That's what I get for daydreaming," Chris smiles back at her.

Casey nods. "What do you daydream about?"

"Casey," Vin scolds, even though Chris seems to have lost none of his humor.

"I'll tell you sometime," Chris says with a nudge leaving Casey to smile around her straw.

"You just get in?" Chris asks Vin pointing at his coffee.

Vin hands it over letting Chris take a healthy sip. "Last night. Just wanted to put some things down while I was in the area."

"So you caught Wilson?"

"Yeah. Guess where I found him."

"At his momma's," Chris says with a laugh and a little snort that never fails to amuse Vin.

"Yep," Vin laughs, taking his coffee back from Chris.

"Here," Casey offers hers to Chris and probably startled again he takes a sip. "You look good in black."

Chris swallows audibly. "Thank you."

"Hmm-hmm," she says and then goes off to leave a message for JD on his computer despite the fact that she will see him later in the evening.

Vin barely suppresses a smile and then sets his coffee down where Chris can reach it and opens a file on his computer.

Chris sits down at his own desk and starts to gather up papers into a folder.

"Got plans tonight?" Vin asks as he types.

"Ahh, Mary's getting an award for that piece she did on the homeless. Asked me to escort her."

Vin remembers when he first met her and how he had thought that Buck was right: she was too pretty for print. A good portion of Vin's good mood fades. "Tell her I said congratulations. Good piece."

"Will do." For a long moment there is nothing but the sound of typing and paper shuffling. "Come by tomorrow. That horse of yours missed you. Got bored and started chewing on the new railing."

"I'll see what I can do to distract him for a while," Vin rallies back and then quickly adds, "Not too early."

"Anytime," Chris says quietly, his own good mood dampened.

Unsure if he has overstepped or missed out Vin concentrates on finishing the report. Reaching into his pocket for a scrap of paper that has an address on it his fingers brush against a small object wrapped in plain tissue paper. Pulling it out he hands it over to Chris. "Oh. Here," Vin tells him somewhat gruffly, setting it by the coffee.

Chris smiles and unwraps it even though he knows what it is. Holding up a dark blue shot glass he reads, "Delaware. The First State," and then adds it to the growing collection of shot glasses on his desk. "Thanks, Vin," he says reaching over to tug on Vin's long hair.

Casey rejoins them but unlike Chris she swats Vin when he pleases her. His shoulder stings with her affection. It's a sensation that mixes wildly with amusement, wonder, satisfaction and always a thread of unease.

When he looks up again Chris is almost smiling.

One More Key

Vin unsnaps the canvas of his Jeep and rolls it back. This early in May it's still cool as clouds pass lazily over the sun but it is also green from the thaw. Even in downtown the air smells like cut grass and Vin would bottle it if he could. He buttons his jacket and pulls on a pair of gloves and the slouch hat that use to belong to Ko-Je. Climbing in he takes a moment to find the seat belt latch on the floorboard and secures it across his chest and waist.

Chris pulls up beside him and the passenger side window whirrs down. Chris tries to keep a straight face as he peers out the window. Vin shakes his head, already knowing what's coming.

"Need a tow?"

In answer, Vin turns over the perfectly tuned engine and with a squeal of tires pulls away from Chris. Glancing in the rearview mirror he sees Chris's wide smile. Coming to a full stop at the edge of the parking lot they both enter into the Friday night commute home.

At each red light Vin tosses the stick shift around in the palm of his hand. He gets no further than second gear before the block ends at another red light. Slowly, the office buildings give way to gas stations and fast food drivethru's until the freeway onramp is just ahead. The traffic moves only somewhat faster, occasionally coming to a full stop for no reason that Vin can see. He passes his own exit having already told Nettie that he would be at Chris's ranch over the weekend. It's not an uncommon occurrence but it is, as always, one that Vin tempers in an effort not to wear out his welcome.

Further on the traffic thins out considerably as Vin pulls into the right lane to exit onto a two lane highway. Chris is just behind him and it hits him again how he is nearly racing the man to his own home. Still, the open road makes it impossible to do anything but shift and hit the gas. He feels the wind push against his hat and shoulders and lets the Jeeps excellent suspension take on the dips and curves. Red and gold striations cut through the low lying hills accented by scrub brush and tall grass. He passes a large nursery that grows the same wild flowers in neat rows that reach out from under the paved road. Horses graze on one side while cattle settle under the shade of a mighty oak on the other. Property lines grow harder to distinguish until Vin comes to an unmarked entrance.

Driving over a rise that feels like a small child's carnival ride Vin slows the Jeep down as gravel pings against metal. The driveway winds through a thicket of oak trees as if their haphazard positions determined the way. The old branches form a canopy that act as a prelude, almost a drum roll to the open space just ahead.

The first time Vin saw the ranch it gave him insight into Chris. It was not so much damaged as not entirely lived in. The grounds were neatly kept but looked unused. The large corral also looked ready for use but stood empty.

On that day, not long after they had met, Vin drove behind Chris until they reached a carefully rendered southwestern home.

Adobe walled courtyards were not uncommon in the area but still the only hints of what lie beyond those simple walls was a bench seat painted bright and green as a lizard along with the pale pink blossoms of a climbing rose that made it necessary for them to duck as they passed through the heavy wooden door the color of a deep lake. Inside the gravel ended to be taken up by weathered flagstone. To the right Buck sat in another wooden bench, a lighter shade of blue than the door, his long legs stretched out beside a small pool that held a glazed blue urn that at one time overflowed with water.

As Vin looked around, taking In the overgrown plants and their simple beauty Chris told Buck, "You've got a key. Could have let yourself in."

Impossibly, Buck stretched out more, his arms in the air before he stood and hooked a thumb at the mosaic of two bouquets of flowers on the wall behind the dry pool. "Just thinking about the gal who made that. Sarah's friend, Suha," Buck remembered fondly, looking at it again. Just above it a built in planter held ivy that grew in every direction.

Buck flipped open his cell phone and began scrolling through the numbers. As he passed Chris he nearly sang out "Suhaaa" and swatted Chris on the butt hard enough to lift Chris's heels off the ground.

Indulgent, Chris smiled at Vin and threw his hand in the air, "Have a look around if you want."

Not normally so curious Vin walked over to the other side of the courtyard. In the corner an empty terra-cotta chimenea looked like it could still take the chill out of the night. On either side were windows with rough hewn wood slats. He turned around and followed Chris towards the modest sized house that seemed to have been set in the middle of the courtyard, the thick low walls offering shade and shelter from the wind and other elements that could kick up at a moments notice.

Chris opened the door for Vin leaving Buck to murmur in his phone by the blue door. Inside, the house seemed larger with wide windows and French doors covered in fine ornamental copper grillwork that was reminiscent of Purgatorio's more secure homes. A fireplace separated the living room from the dining area and open kitchen. Folded blankets at the end of a large sofa spoke of a man who had slept there for a different kind of comfort. A long hallway led to the bedrooms and displayed several candid photographs of Chris and his son Adam, most black and white and taken by Sarah and a handful of the three of them together smiling and laughing at a camera with a timer. Under Vin's observant eye they looked like they had been taken down at one time and then put back up, at some later date, in different places. Vin was able to imagine the hallway turning into a gauntlet of never again memories for Chris that ended in an empty bed.

Chris opened his refrigerator. "I've got beer," he offered and he did, but not much else.

Vin accepted one and then wandered out into the back courtyard. The left side was dominated by a fireplace with bougainvillea as red as a stop light flanking it. To the right a built in grill waited patiently for use. A cottonwood, growing outside the courtyard wall provided shade over a large round table. Further out the walls lowered until they staggered into the ground. Vin followed the blue stones embedded in the flagstone, down three steps to a small dry pool and Jacuzzi that looked out over another gathering of oak trees.

It was easily the most beautiful home Vin had ever seen even with its empty pools and rooms, blending in with its environment instead of overtaking it. "Sure is a purty spot, Chris," Vin said, his accent getting the best of him.

Chris nodded and took a moment before he spoke. "Sarah was an architect. This is all her work."

Vin nodded approvingly.

"She was born in St. Louis and raised all over the world. Army brat. She came to Four Corners to go to school and stayed. Said she loved how the architecture came right out of the ground. We bought this land, put everything we had in to it. When Adam was born she left her career but it was a part of her so this place got all her attention."

Vin kept quiet hoping he would go on.

"She learned about the native plants and taught me and Adam their names." Chris pointed to a tall spindly plant with orange offshoots. "Octoillo. Adam said it looked like fireworks."

"It does," Vin agreed and shared a smile with Chris.

Chris's smile faded. "Me and Buck were going down to Mexico to pick up a cop killer who'd been extradited. The day after we left Sarah was taking Adam to a movie. Cletus Fowler was in the back of her car. He held a gun on her and had her drive down the highway to a side road. He executed them with a Colt 1911 – just like the one I used. I don't know if it was a coincidence or…I don't know. We caught him and he told us that he had been hired by someone but he hung himself in jail before we could find out who. Sarah and Adam were a hundred feet from the road. Cars were passing them by. When I couldn't reach her we rushed back but…"

Vin remembers wanting to push through his usual reserve and say something, the right thing or some gesture but all he did was stand by Chris and keep his silence until Buck called out from the back door asking if they had taken the last beer.

In the year following the neglected ranch had been overrun with Buck who could never leave well enough alone and JD who Vin suspected knew better than to crowd Chris but pretended not to. Josiah showed up to help change a broken hinge on a door that looked like it had been kicked in and stayed long enough for Chris to confess to a fit of temper and a mutual fondness for Playstation. When the weather permitted Nathan helped Chris clean out the small pool while Ezra used the Jacuzzi for medicinal purposes. And finally Vin who bought an unruly black gelding and asked to keep it at Chris's ranch. And while the horse is well cared for along with the other horses the team has bought it is Chris who has become more spirited.

Vin parks in the circular driveway. Chris hops down from his truck and tosses his keys to Vin even though Vin has his own set. It has been a long week. Vin puts the key in the door and lets them in.

The blue urn in the front courtyard overflows again.

Human Interest

On the third anniversary of Sarah and Adam Larabee's untimely deaths Mary Travis publishes what is meant to be a tribute to one mans quest for justice and the family he lost. It details the otherwise routine day of this small family from a hurried breakfast of toaster waffles to Chris Larabee nearly missing a flight to Mexico to a quick and laughing airport goodbye. That unremarkable goodbye would be their last.

While proficiently written Mary's article is delegated to the back pages of The Clarion News that often contain the most activity. Corrections, apologies and retractions tell the real stories while the obituaries confirm them. Headlines read, Dog Saves Boy, Chef Burns More Than Toast In Hotel Fire and Local Hero Still Searches for Killers of Wife and Son.

Chris folds the paper and leaves work without a word. The saccharine, sometimes strange pages of Human Interest have left him thirsty.

Widowers and Orphans

Chris loses his balance and throws his weight against Vin. Vin steadies them both, tightening his hold around Chris's waist. The shallow steps leading up to Vin's apartment cause Chris to come to a full, wavering stop and stare up at the double doors as if he is trying to figure out the best way to reach a mountain top. Vin takes Chris's wrist and wraps his arm around his neck. In a slow motion imitation of a three-legged race they scale the steps. Vin manages the locked door but brings them to another stop when they reach the lobby stairs. The thought of trying to balance them both up five flights proves daunting and causes Vin to lead them to the elevator. Sliding open the wrought iron door Vin hauls them inside.

"You're gonna to love this," Vin says closing the doorway behind them with a clang and catching Chris's dubious look. Pressing number five Vin braces them as the floor rattles under their feet. By the time they reach Vin's floor Chris has sobered but retained his hold on Vin.

The long hallway is well lit but it still takes Vin a moment to register that someone is sitting against his door. Never an optimist, he readies himself to step in front of Chris and deal with whatever waits for them. His caution proves to be unwarranted as Chanu stands up and walks towards them.

Chris tenses and tries to rise to his full height but is only partially successful.

"It's OK," Vin reassures, "he's my...brother," he says, searching for the right name.

"Chanu," Chris confirms.

Chanu nods and holds out his hand. "You must be Chris Larabee. I've heard a lot about you," he says giving Vin a look that means he hasn't heard it from him.

Chris shakes his hand. "Well, if it was anything good I'm here to shoot it down."

Chanu keeps a hold of Chris's hand and then wraps Chris's arm around his neck. "Oh no, man. I've been there. Nothing wrong with swallowing the worm on a school night every once in a while."

Chris lets out a small, sad laugh as Vin and Chanu make light work of him.

At the door Vin hands Chanu the keys. Kicking a small duffle bag through the doorway Chanu keeps his hold on Chris and lets Vin lead them to the bedroom.

Chris sits down heavily on the bed.

Tugging Chris's shoes off Vin worries out loud, "I don't want you two getting along. You'll just make my life hell."

Chanu swats him on the shoulder. "You got aspirin?"

"Yeah, in there."

Chanu heads for the bathroom as Vin begins to remove Chris's socks. Chris slumps forward, his forehead resting on Vin's shoulder. Vin balances them again and then struggles with the last sock. "C'mon, Chris," he pleads, almost laughing. Chris's foot hits the floor with a thud. Vin pushes Chris back and waves the sock in the air. The small victory makes them both smile drunkenly at each other.

Chanu clears his throat. Vin rises from his crouch and takes the water and aspirin from Chanu. "Thanks..." Vin mumbles wanting to shield Chris from the kind of observation he knows Chanu is capable of. "Chris, here," he says, holding out both the water and pills although Chris seems able to handle only one at a time. Vin braces his hands on his knees. "Try to head off some of that hangover you've got coming. Drink all of it. That's it. I'll bring you more." He finally takes the empty glass from Chris and hands it to Chanu in hope that he'll take it back out to the kitchen. Chanu sets it on the bedside table instead. Vin sighs and begins unbuttoning Chris's shirt. "How long you staying?" Vin asks Chanu over his shoulder, not meaning for it to sound so blunt.

Chanu pulls down the covers. "Long enough to crowd you."

Chris snorts as he fumbles with his belt buckle. The brief smile he shares with Chanu seems to indicate that they believe Vin needs to be crowded.

Unsettled by their rapport Vin yanks on Chris's pant legs harder than necessary effectively knocking him back.

Chris slips his feet under the covers and grunts. Vin pulls the covers up to his shoulders.

"I'll bring you some more water," Vin says quietly.

Chanu's voice almost startles him. "He's out."

It never rains but it pours, Vin thinks and smiles at Chanu in the dim light.

Chanu tips his head at Chris and then at Vin. "So. Tell me about your date."

Vin punches him in the shoulder hard enough to rock him back right before Chanu steps forward and holds him tight.

Chanu unzips the two sleeping bags and piles them on top of each other while Vin pulls out two more blankets from the hall closet. The usual questions, What have you been doing lately? What's new? seem inappropriate, almost cruel and so Vin lets them go unasked.

Chanu answers them anyway. "It's been a while."

"A lot of changes," Vin agrees and spreads the blankets out over the sleeping bags.

"I was glad to find out you're all here now."

Vin loosens his boot and then holds it out for Chanu to pull off. "Nettie didn't want to stay in Texas anymore." And then his other foot. "Too many memories."

"Yeah..."

"Casey got into school here – gonna be a veterinarian – damn - " Chanu nods, proud of her, too, "and Nettie didn't want to leave her alone so soon after losing her momma." Vin shakes his head. "I don't rightly know how I ended up staying."

Chanu removes his own boots. "Casey tells me you're a private investigator in a fancy office."

"Ahh, hell. The office is fancy but I'm still running skips. Back up the rest of the boys."

"A good bunch?"

"The best. I'll introduce you."

"Already met one," Chanu smiles and looks towards the open door of the bedroom.

Vin bristles despite his effort not to. "He gets kind of wooly sometimes. Lost his family three years ago."

"Casey told me. Meant no offense."

"I know," Vin mumbles.

They dress down to their boxers and crawl under the covers.

In the dark Vin sighs. "Most of the time he's fine. He's kind of our team leader - and let me tell you none of us is easy to lead." Chanu's chuff of laughter lets Vin know he has no trouble believing him. "A reporter he's seeing - Mary Travis - wrote this piece about him and his family. It's a good piece but ol' Chris don't like to be exposed like that, I guess. Especially now."

Chanu rolls onto his side. "Like I said. No offense." Vin nods, closes his eyes and reaches out for sleep when Chanu asks, "Is he someone for you?"

Wide awake again Vin comes up on one elbow. "Is that something else Casey told you? Because if it is - "

"Relax," Chanu says closing his own eyes. "We ain't going to get no sleep at all if you keep jumping to conclusions all night."

"He's my friend, Chanu and I'd hate to lose that."

Chanu opens his eyes and rests the back of his hand on Vin's shoulder even after Vin lies back down. "First off, I didn't come here to clown around with your life. Secondly, when have I ever needed someone else to tell me what I can see for myself?"

"Chanu..."

"I'm your friend, too, Vin."

"I know - I - shit. Tell me again why you're here."

Chanu laughs sleepily and doesn't answer. Vin finds sleep much later with Chanu's hand still on his shoulder.

Chris is up, sitting on the edge of the bed trying to open his eyes against the light coming in from Vin's bedroom window when he hears Casey's unmistakable squeal. Cradling his head in his hands he groans.

Vin leans in through the doorway. "You decent?"

His head pounding, mouth dry, Chris still has the presence of mind to ask Vin to, "Define decent."

Hardly decent himself, barefoot and in jeans, Vin pads in, smiling, and hands over another glass of water and more aspirin. Chris takes it gratefully and finishes the water in one long swallow.

Vin braces his hands on his knees and tells Chris quietly, "Come on out when you're ready for some commotion."

Chris laughs the way he does and Vin leaves him with a swat on the leg.

When Chris re-emerges he is dressed again in work trousers, his wrinkled shirt buttoned and tucked in. The brightly lit living room still makes him squint but he smiles and holds out his hand again to Chanu. "Sorry about last night. I..."

Chanu loosens himself from Casey's hold around his waist and shakes Chris's hand warmly. "No need for that. Glad I finally met you."

"Same here," Chris says with some relief and quickly takes in Casey beaming at him, Vin, now in a tee-shirt and Nettie's knowing gaze. Clearing his throat he extends an invitation. "I know it's short notice but why don't you all come out to the ranch tomorrow. Good weather for a barbeque. Maybe the rest of the boys can come out, too. Meet Chanu."

"Sounds like a plan, Chris Larabee," Nettie says kindly, still holding him with a level look.

"Good, good," Chris says, heading for the door. "Is noon OK?"

"We'll be there," Vin says, following. "I'll give you a lift back to your truck."

"Nah. Stay here, catch up. I gotta run some errands around here anyways." He smiles. "El Toro Meats is just down the street, right? I'll pick up some of their carne asada you like so much."

"Don't go to any trouble. You sure...?"

"No trouble and the exercise will clear my head. See you tomorrow."

Not really wanting to let him go Vin grabs his forearm and to his surprise Chris takes a hold of his in return. They embarrass each other by squeezing tightly and then Chris is through the door.

It is a warm day with just a slight cool breeze to remind them that Spring is not over yet. In a couple months only the most hardy foliage will thrive but on this day everything is green and blooming.

"You like it here, Tatanka?" Chanu asks from the passenger seat of Nettie's old Volvo.

"Guess so," Vin replies, driving with his wrist hung over the steering wheel. "It's the longest I've stayed in one place since we were kids."

"Yeah, makes a difference when you've got people."

"Vin's got lots of people here," Casey pipes up from the backseat where she sits next to Nettie. "The guys he works with are like brothers - they even fight like brothers."

Chanu turns in his seat to look at Vin and Casey over his shoulder. "Oh, so I've got competition for getting Vin all riled?"

Casey giggles.

"Nah, you've got the market cornered on that." Vin waits a moment and then asks carefully. "I know how much you like Santa Fe but why don't you think about moving up here?"

"I might. It's not home like it use to be."

Even Casey remains quiet, all of them knowing that it's a decision he will make all on his own.

Vin turns in to Chris's negligible driveway, through the old oak trees and out to the front of the house. Buck and Josiah's trucks are already there along with Nathan's. Proving his suspicion right that JD came with Buck the young man in question barrels through the heavy wooden door of Chris's courtyard and heads straight for Casey's car door. Vin parks and smiles at Chanu as JD and Casey continue their courtship.

Casey rolls her eyes and opens her own door. "I've got it."

"You looked like you were having trouble," JD teases.

"I did not. Why don't you help Nettie?"

"I'm just fine," Nettie assures them, opening the back for a flat of peaches. "Why don't you introduce Chanu around?"

And they do. With more grace than might be expected from two such exuberant people. Vin shares a smile with Nettie and takes the flat from her while she gathers a grocery bag. They follow the sound of voices through the house to the open kitchen that looks out over the back courtyard. Vin is heartened to see Chanu being greeted warmly by Josiah, Nathan, Rain and Buck although he expected nothing less. He sets the flat on the counter and lets the sounds of a busy house wash over him as he turns on the water to wash the fruit.

Chris sidles up to him without tripping off his usual defenses. "What do I owe you?" he asks, picking up a fat peach and breathing in the sweet smell.

"Nothing. Just make a big fuss over dessert."

"Don't need to coach me on that." Chris takes a juicy bite and then wheels away to let Nettie scold him.

Josiah clears his throat. "I doubt that we'll see Ezra until we're sitting down to eat. Would now be a good time to fire up the grill?"

There's a general, albeit enthusiastic agreement and after raiding the kitchen of a staggering amount of barbeque meat and beer they head outside. Nettie takes in the peaches that Vin has sunk to the bottom of a sink and shoos him out with the rest.

Chanu's good humor is a welcome sight but Vin can see grief spark against his resolve. There is more discipline than happiness in his smile. Chanu is paying attention to all the social cues and answering them so fast as to fool almost everyone.

Vin leans against the railing and empties the neck of his beer to clear his vision. His eyes fall unerringly on Chris to his left, his back to him, amiably lighting the briquettes while Josiah unwraps several packages from El Toro's. Chris pokes at the grill and shifts from side to side. Ants in his pants, Nettie would say. He smiles to himself and then wipes the smile away with a single thought: Widower. Just like Chanu. Still grieving in black. Head to toe.

All of them here missing someone. Casey her momma and Nettie Ko-Je. Rain's father passed away not even a year ago and Nathan's only months after that. Josiah with a sister who is still alive but lost to him in just as profound a way as death. And Vin with a single photo of his mother and few memories to back it up.

Widowers and orphans. They are the perfect charity although Vin feels none of the hurried kindness of such a thing. A weight settles heavily in his chest and then swells. These people, he thinks but cannot finish the thought.

There is a flash and a click and Vin blinks at a grinning JD. JD lopes over to him and shows him the small screen on the back of a digital camera. There he is, pixilated, looking off towards Chris and nothing else.

JD follows the eye line from the image to Chris tending the grill and laughs. "You sure must be hungry."

Vin nods. "Stomach's growling."

"Ah, won't be long," JD reassures him and then holds the camera up again to take another picture. Vin looks the traitorous camera in the eye and smiles.

Not unusual these days, Chris's house is busy inside and out. Nettie has taken over the kitchen while Buck points out all the special touches Sarah put into the entire property. Casey and Rain enjoy all the amenities inside with its open floor plan while JD and Nathan gravitate to the courtyard and pool. Chris smiles watching Vin take Chanu past all of the aforementioned and head straight for the corral. The horses are out, enjoying the extra attention and apples, tossing their heads and stomping the ground if they're ignored for too long.

Platters and serving bowls Chris barely remembers owning are brought out and set on the round table off to the side. Ezra does indeed show up as they are about to sit down and pretends to take umbrage at everyone's amusement. It's a tight fit but no one seems to mind.

Chris refuses to admit that he can cook but admits that he loves to grill. The food is hearty and just a little spicy and everyone digs in.

The table is full of animated talk and underneath it a myriad of unspoken communication. Buck looks at Vin sitting next to Chanu and making his assumption catches JD's eye and winks. JD frowns, disagreeing. Casey catches Chris looking at Vin and smiles as Chris turns his attention back to his plate. Ezra tells of his mothers latest exploits but his sardonic description also holds his affection for someone who could get away with it.

Nettie and Casey bring out another large bowl brimming with sliced peaches along with Ezra's vanilla bean ice cream. There are several protests of being too full but eventually everyone takes a bowl.

The sound of heels on flagstone catch Chris's attention right before Mary steps around the corner of the house with a man Vin doesn't recognize. She smiles sheepishly. "I'm sorry to barge in like this but...no, no please don't get up."

Chris remains standing. "Would you like some dessert?"

Mary edges closer and lowers her voice. "I was hoping that we could talk to you." And when Chris doesn't move. "Privately."

Chris visibly reins in his temper and then just as visibly lets it go. "Of course." He gestures towards the kitchen and then closes the double doors behind them.

Chris's company tries to go back to their dessert but the results are distracted at best.

Chanu stirs his forgotten bowl. "Is that Mary Travis?"

Casey uses her spoon to section the fruit into bite size pieces. "Yeah. And her editor Gerard Whitman."

Chanu nods, still stirring. "She's blonde like Claire." Vin watches him carefully. "I use to tease her that she looked like she was carved out of white chocolate." Vin grins while Nathan soothes Rain's back as she hiccups a laugh and swallows her ice cream quickly. Everyone laughs and releases some of the tension.

When Chris comes back out he's alone and draped in a protective quietness they all recognize. "They - uh - couldn't stay." He turns to Vin. "There's still plenty of daylight left. Why don't you take that horse of yours for a ride? Chanu can ride Pony."

Vin stands and grabs his forearm and holds on. "I will. But you come with us."

"Nah," Chris says even though Vin is already tugging him along.

"Casey," Vin says over his shoulder, "get his other hand."

Giggling, she does as JD pretends to push from behind.

"Chanu," Josiah calls, "take my horse."

"Thanks, Josiah," Chanu says with a nod and runs to catch up with the others.

When they saddle up Chris lets Pony have the reins and the animal reaches out into a full gallop. Casey, looking even more diminutive on Buck's big grey, tries to keep up with him at first and then lets him go.

JD rides up to her side and tells her everything he knows about Chris. "He'll catch up with us when he's ready."

The Making of a Relative

Even from a distance Vin can tell it's Chanu. Fists up and flying, gesturing, c'mon, c'mon. Is that all you've got? The numbers are telling, too. Three against one. Vin speeds up only to skid to a stop. "Chanu," he yells, "get in!" Chanu looks at Vin, furious and turns away from him only to tackle one man while the other two lift him off by the hair and continue to pummel him.

Vin leaps out of the Jeep, "Aww, hell" and quickly dispatches of two of Chanu's assailants while the third runs away. He hauls Chanu to his feet and despite all his training is completely unprepared for the left handed blow to his cheek. More shocking than painful it nonetheless allows years of control to finally slip the leash. Vin grabs Chanu by the throat and using his heel kicks Chanu's feet out from under him. Chanu lands flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Somehow unprepared again, Chanu's hands circle Vin's wrist and tighten, hold him there. Vin wrenches his hand away and stands on unreliable feet. "You asshole!" Chanu rolls to his side gasping for air. "Is that why you're here? Hope someone will kick the shit out of you, put an end to it all?"

Chanu keeps his back to Vin, still catching his breath. "I don't care. I don't care anymore."

"You stupid fuck. You must be lucky because you came to the right place. If you don't care Nettie and Casey do." Vin catches his own breath. "Hell, I might even care." Vin holds his hand out. "C'mon. Get up."

Chanu sits up but keeps his back to Vin. Vin grabs him under one arm and by the bicep with the other and brings him to his feet. It's only then that he sees the tears bleeding into the scrapes on Chanu's face. Still keeping his hold and still angry he loosens his grip and apologizes. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," Chanu tells him around a stifled sob.

"OK. OK. Let's just go home, all right?"

Chanu nods and for the second week in a row Vin takes a friend home and helps him on to the elevator.

As soon as Chanu kneels beside his sleeping bag Vin is awake.

"Tatanka, I have something to ask you. It's important."

Vin is about to point out that it's been a long day before his eyes adjust to the dim light and he sees the dark bruise around Chanu's neck. Sitting up he nods.

"I wanted to ask you," Chanu begins, "if you'll be my brother?"

Vin pats Chanu's forearm. "You are my brother. I think we proved that today."

"No," Chanu shakes his head as if Vin has misunderstood entirely. "I want us to be blood brothers. I want to claim you as a relative and I want you to claim me." Vin's stunned silence causes Chanu to rush on. "I've been talking to Tastanagi - he still lives in Santa fe and he said he would come up here and guide us if that's what we wanted. We could use the peace pipe that Ko-Je made for you. Imala can play the drums."

Vin has been nodding to no avail and so finally he says, "Yes. Chanu, yes. I want to be your brother."

"OK." Chanu sighs explosively, happy. "I'll call him tomorrow - today - later."

Vin nods and laughs quietly, the seriousness of what they mean to do still settling over him.

Chanu watches him for a moment and then tugs on his sleeping bag. "Either scoot over or come to bed, Vin. I'm tired of you being so careful around me."

Vin's eyes dart over Chanu's neck.

"You didn't hurt me."

"Yeah, I did."

"Got my attention."

Vin shakes his head. "I don't want to fight you."

"Good. Cause you obviously know what you're doing."

Vin tries to smile at the joke but can't.

"I need you, Vin," Chanu says almost gruffly, leaning down to catch Vin's eye. "So don't keep me at a distance for my own good. I don't do very well there."

Vin looks up and takes his time studying Chanu and Chanu lets him. Finally, he nods.

"Find what you need?" Chanu asks seriously.

"Yeah."

"Get up, then," Chanu says with a choked laugh. "Come to bed."

Vin grabs his pillow and follows Chanu back to bed. Throwing his pillow next to Chanu's he climbs in and falls into a dreamless sleep.

The week goes by quickly with two cases wrapped up before Thursday. Vin waits anxiously but is grateful when he is not sent out of town on a skip. Chanu has made all the arrangements for Tastanagi and his son Imala to stay in a furnished unit across from Nettie. When they arrive on Saturday Nettie makes a stew and fry bread and seems to enjoy having a full house.

Vin was a teenager the last time he saw Tastanagi and while he is spirited and sharp Vin cannot help but notice how the years have turned Tastanagi's hair white and bent his bones and yet he is still a magnificent sight.

Casey has appropriated JD's camera and takes pictures of them throughout the night and then prints out several including the ones taken at Chris's barbeque. Sitting on Nettie's braided rug with Vin she makes him pick out his favorites all the while throwing in her own. Imala sits at an angle from Chanu and watches quietly as Chanu uses a small pair of scissors to open the stitching of his medicine bag. Vin looks up in time to see Chanu slip off his wedding band and place it inside. Imala hands over a threaded needle and watches again as Chanu sews it up.

Vin picks up a picture of Buck holding a laughing JD in a head lock and studies it for a long time.

Sunday morning and Vin rises early. He pushes aside his usual blue jeans and tee-shirt and pulls out a copper colored shirt and jeans the color of buckskin. His best boots, the ones recently re-heeled, are set by the door. A red bandana is chosen over his lone black tie or a lariat.

Chanu stumbles out of bed, stops unsteadily in his tracks and smiles at Vin.

Vin smoothes a hand self-consciously over his shirt. "What?"

"Nothing. Just feel good, is all."

Vin visibly relaxes and nods as Chanu passes him.

Nettie calls while Chanu is showering and tells Vin that they are setting up on the roof and to come up when they're ready. Vin sits on his small couch and pushes his feet into his boots, stands to settle his heels and is almost surprised when Chanu emerges. His unruly hair has been brushed out smooth although Vin doubts it will stay that way for long and he is dressed in blue jeans and a denim shirt that looks like it has seen Nettie's iron.

Suddenly at a loss for words for each other Chanu gestures mutely at the door.

Vin heads that way and then, "Oh, yeah - wait," and goes to the fireplace mantle. He opens a long, narrow case and folds back a red cloth to reveal his peace pipe. It is a tangible connection to Ko-Je and the obviously care that went into making it never fails to hold him still. The bowl of the pipe is made of soft ivory stone that Ko-Je collected while visiting his own blood brother in Nevada with a stem made of sumac. Near the mouthpiece hangs a single feather.

Almost as if he is watching someone else proceed Vin joins Chanu as they head up to the roof. He opens the door to reveal bright morning light, the air still chilly but giving way to the sun. Imala kneels behind his drums as Tastanagi stands beside him. Nettie and Cassie are standing close by and behind them JD, Chris, Ezra, Buck, Josiah, Nathan and Rain are gathered. Vin stops in his tracks causing Chanu to walk into him.

"I - ," Vin stammers, "I thought it was just us," meaning the people he grew up with.

"It is, Vin," Chanu assures him while including Vin's friends. "It's just us."

Tastanagi smiles kindly at Vin's skittishness as Vin tries not to notice Buck's more teasing smile or the amused whispered exchange he has with Ezra. Chris waits patiently for Vin to feel his own steady gaze and when Vin finally does he nods almost imperceptibly at him. Vin returns the nod and takes his place with Chanu in front of the small congregation.

Tastanagi turns toward the gathering and begins.

"The Sioux believe that we are all relatives, Mitak oyasin, and that it is good to meet those that you find on your path who have a special relationship with you. Still, one does not make everyone a blood relative. The making of a relative is not a whimsical act. The cutting of ones self is not for dramatic effect but to signify the seriousness of the family involved." Looking at Chanu and Vin Tastanagi adds, "And while the anticipation is more painful than the actual cut, it serves its purpose and takes courage."

Trusting that he has brought everyone to some kind of understanding Tastanagi gathers the long hair from horse tails and waves it over Vin and Chanu. "Horses are free in spirit. It is good to be a relative but the tail hairs remind us to remain free and flowing and not to hold each other back." Setting the tail hairs down he opens a pouch and places sage and sweet grass into Vin's pipe. Vin lights it and then with Chanu turns East.

Finding his voice Vin holds the peace pipe up to offer the sweet smoke. "We ask that we help each other as brothers in our quest for knowledge and wisdom while we are on our Earth path."

Turning South Vin hands the pipe to Chanu who continues. "We ask for healthy bodies and promise to recommend to each other healthy food or abstinence when needed." He hands the pipe back to Vin and they turn West.

Vin holds the pipe up again and then overcome for a moment finds it almost too heavy to lift. A fine tremor runs through his body as he raises it up to the sky. "We welcome the spirit world and trust that we have a common path, the red way." Clearing his throat he continues. "We call upon all that have gone before and thank our mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, friends, wives and children for their guidance - for bringing us here."

They turn North and gather themselves as Tastanagi places tobacco in the pipe. His voice both soft and rough Chanu takes the pipe. "We ask that our friendship, through our blood relationship, last for our whole lives."

Tastanagi takes the pipe and offers Chanu a gleaming knife with a silver and turquoise handle. Chanu takes it and holds the tip to the heel of his palm and makes a small incision. A wheel of blood forms, swells and then trickles down his wrist, catching at the sleeve of his shirt. Vin takes the knife and with deliberation makes a similar cut. He hands the knife back to Tastanagi and then claps Chanu's hand. The sting of someone else's blood pressing against his makes Vin's throat tighten, his eyes burn. Imala plays the drums. Without letting go Chanu tows Vin in a circle, nothing more than a slow shuffle of feet but it takes all of Vin's concentration. Chanu squeezes his hand and Vin looks up into Chanu's eyes and finds his place there. No need to look away. Look right at me. Like this, see? Still holding on Vin steps around Chanu and tows him until the drums stop. Chanu brings the back of Vin's hand up to his chest and lets him feel his pounding heart, lets him see the love he has always held for him. Reaching inside his shirt he pulls out his medicine bag and removes it one handed. Holding it up he offers it to Vin who hesitates for only a moment before bowing his head to let Chanu drape it around his neck. Vin gestures for the peace pipe and offers it to Chanu. When they finally let each others hands go it's only so they can hold each other closer. A siren wails down along the street and in answer a train whistle sounds off in the distance, high and lonely and beautiful all the same.

Vin releases his hold and steps back to shore up his composure but is nearly undone again by the sight of his friends who are quiet and moved and no less transformed than he is.

Nathan is the first to move. He picks up a large first aid kit off to the side and lets his former Army medic training kick in. He crouches down in front of Vin and Chanu and they do the same. As Nathan soaks gauze pads with saline and wipes away the drying blood the others gather themselves and file quietly downstairs. Efficient and gentle, Nathan finishes dressing their small cuts and then stands and offers both of his hands to Vin and Chanu and pulls them upright. With only a few glancing jabs about Nathan's choice of supplies they follow the others down to Vin's apartment.

…..

Vin finds that his apartment looks different with so many people in it. Not cluttered as he had expected but more along the lines of all the things he was sure he didn't need finally being useful. Not quite enough seating means that kitchen chairs are pulled out, while Buck seems satisfied to perch on the arm of the couch or like Chris sit in the window seat. For a moment he feels as if he is looking at a busy city from an aerial view.

JD and Ezra shake Vin and Chanu's hands warmly while Buck and Josiah engulf them in hugs. Chanu drifts into the kitchen to help with the coffee that Nettie is preparing.

Vin looks at Chris across the length of his living room and holds his hand up in greeting to reveal a square purple band aid with a bright green dinosaur. The corner of Chris's mouth twitches against a smile. Vin drops his hand and watches Chris stand and then walk towards him in a straight line even as Buck, JD and Nettie bustle around him.

Not for the first time Vin notices that while Chris guards his own space with a look or temper that he apparently has no compunction at all about stepping into his. Vin considers moving back or at least shifting to one hip but instead holds his ground. Chris takes some of the challenge out of his proximity by looking over Vin's shoulder at some middle distance.

"That was...really something," Chris says unable to find any other words.

Vin nods, feeling the same way.

Chris returns his attention to Vin. "I've never seen brothers claim each other that way."

Vin clears his throat. "People tend to do it all the time - just without the ceremony."

Chris looks around at the people that surround them and it's his turn to nod. "Didn't mean to parachute in on you. Casey told JD we should be there."

"She was right. I'm glad y'all are here. Sorry I didn't ask you myself."

Chris shrugs one shoulder, understanding, since he too, lives his own life close to the vest. Moving on he looks down at Vin's hand and turns it palm up.

Vin smiles along with Chris. "Nathan swears Rain bought 'em but I don't know..."

Chris looks at Nathan, sitting in the kitchen, and lets him see his teasing smile. "Find out something new about Nate every day."

Nathan rolls his eyes but is unable to hide his own smile.

Chris hiccups a laugh and Vin's fingers slip from his hold.

Casey comes bounding through the front door carrying a shoebox cradled in one arm and Vin wonders how he could have missed that she wasn't there already. Beaming, she takes the lid off and begins handing out small photographs, about the size of his hand, all them in simple wood frames painted black. "They have sticky things on the back. Just press them on the wall and then write your name underneath it."

Vin looks at the wall she's referring to, between the fireplace and the window seat. It's an area that is too small for a painting and too big to hang a clock. Like most of the apartment he has left it bare.

Casey hands Vin the last two photographs, one of himself the other of his mother. It takes a moment for him to realize that it's a copy of his only picture of her, the faded colors have been brought to clear black and white, the same as all the others. A crease from one corner has been removed entirely. She was not much older than Casey when it was taken although her eyes are far more knowing. Still, they glow. Her long brown hair falls over shoulders and the sun shines on it. A gauzy peasant blouse hides her pregnancy.

Vin is unable to move or look away until Casey leads him to the wall. He stares at the blank space and then shrugs at Casey, unsure of where to begin. She takes his mothers picture carefully from him and holds it to the center of the wall and then looks to him for his approval. He nods. She takes the backing off, presses it to the wall and holds out a marker for Vin to write her name. He shakes his head and gestures for her to write it. She smiles kindly at him and then in her round penmanship writes, Marie Tanner.

"My stars and garters," Nettie blurts out, "I've never seen anything like it."

There is a stunned moment of silence and then relieved laughter fills the room. On surer ground Vin presses his own picture next to his mothers, just a little lower and signs his name.

Casey pulls Nettie forward who pushes through decades of ingrained rules about writing on a wall and signs under her own picture. Applause follows. Vin stands back and lets his brothers and sisters find their place in his home the way he has found his. When he hugs Casey he lifts her off her feet and squeezes her until she squeals. Imala signs his name under his fathers and then hands the marker to Chris. The pictures are not in any kind of order or lined up. More of a collage of familiar faces and names. The space next to the picture of Vin looking off to the side is open. Chris places his picture there and carefully signs his name with an unsteady hand.

The Saloon and Steakhouse is owned by a former barmaid named Inez Recillos who bought the bar and the failing restaurant beside it, knocked down their common wall and caught customers who were either hungry or thirsty or both. Located in the middle of Old Town it draws both tourists and downtown regulars.

Inez helps a waiter push together two large round tables as a hostess escorts what the staff call The Magnificent Seven and their guests to their usual spot. Set a couple steps above the rest of the dining floor it allows the seven gentlemen the lay of the land and their backs to the wall.

Buck flirts unendingly with Inez and she shoots him down with little mercy beyond a wink as she makes her introduction to Tastanagi, Imala and Chanu. Despite this she sends out a large platter of assorted appetizers - off the bill - and makes sure that they are waited on as unobtrusively as possible. She watches with satisfaction as they become animated with food and drink and marvels at the way loners congregate so well with each other. She pours the coffee herself after dessert and peeks quickly over Vin's shoulder as he doodles on a cardboard coaster with Ezra's good pen. A stickman dancing is all that she has time to make out. Looking up she catches Chris watching Vin, too.

When they leave she is amused by her own feeling of sending old friends off on a long boat trip instead of out to valet parking. As they file out Chris hesitates only a moment before he reaches back and slips Vin's coaster in his pocket. From the wide open doorway of the Saloon Inez watches and smiles.

Chris uses his considerable discipline to wait until he is home and sitting by the blue urn before he takes the coaster out. A stickman with Rasta hair dances wildly, motion marks around his knees and elbows. Chris snorts. There is some true doodling, a perfect spiral, a square sectioned off into triangles. Off to the side in Vin's careful hand Chris reads, Mother don't worry, I've got a coat and some friends on the corner. He smiles. And down at the bottom in smaller script, Your eyes are what the time is, 25 past eternity. It strikes him as a perfect description of Vin's eyes as he is unable to look at his own in that way. And for no more reason than Vin has written something that is true Chris places the coaster in a bedside drawer next to his gun and a box of bullets.

Buck Wilmington's Animal Magnetism

Buck watches Vin from the corner of his eye and as he is prone to do, worries. It's not the first time Vin has come back from a skip sporting a black eye or scrapped knuckles but those small injuries seem to speak of some deeper hurt. At first he thought it was because Chanu had left only days after becoming Vin's brother but that proved unfounded when he learned that Chanu was packing for his move to Purgatorio.

Buck smiles to himself. Sometimes he can be so wrong. When he first met Chanu he had thought, Finally. Someone for Vin - common foster care be damned. But then he had witnessed them become brothers and any other supposition he held for them lost its weight. When Casey first told JD and Buck about Vin and Chanu's plans to make each other a relative and what that entailed Buck had held his tongue and written it off as something that boys do while camped out in a back yard. And while he knows that their presence there had been a shock to Vin he also knows that that single day made all of them closer.

Despite this, he believes that Vin lives too far inside himself, watching, paying attention, loyal and ready to act on it but still somehow removed. It's ironic then that Vin should be the one to draw Chris out from his own self imposed exile. Buck has admitted to himself a kind of puzzled hurt at not being able to credit some of his own efforts for Chris's restoration. He knows that Josiah would tell him that they had all saved each other from whatever edge they were living on with the offer of work, partnership and a willingness to let each other be no matter the confusion it caused.

Vin leans forward in his chair and proofreads what he has entered and then quietly exasperated holds his finger down on the delete key effectively erasing half of it. Buck sympathizes, knowing first hand how difficult it is to describe a fist fight.

"Wooow," Chris says while he leans over JD's shoulder as JD makes a new software program look easy. It's not often that JD has Chris's attention and approval at the same time so Buck postpones his teasing for later, maybe on the drive home.

Nathan joins Chris and hovers over JD's other shoulder.

"Anyone heard from Ezra and Josiah?" Buck asks anyone who will answer.

Vin leans back and looks over at Buck seemingly grateful to answer to anything besides the work in front of him. "Ezra called and said they found three offshore accounts and it looks like there are more. He doesn't think they'll be back before Wednesday or Thursday."

"They'll be back before Wednesday," Chris informs them, never mind Ezra's estimate.

"Still sounds like a vacation to me," Buck says trying to sound put out. "When do I get an assignment by a beautiful beach?"

Vin offers, "You can go with me the next time a skip heads off to Corpus Christy."

"Texas ain't the same, Vin," Buck replies to the tease. "No offense."

"None taken," Vin says and then winks at him with his black eye.

Buck smiles and watches Vin go back to work, writing out his report for Judge Travis in fits and starts. Too bad about Chanu, Buck thinks. Brotherhood and all aside. Vin needs someone whether he knows it or not. At the moment though he is more interested in bringing Vin further out of his shell even if he must play the fool.

Vin finishes his report and then stands over the printer as it warms up and prints out. Buck sidles up to him and wraps his long arm around Vin's shoulder and turns him to take in the full view of Chris leaning over JD's shoulder. It's nothing he hasn't done a dozen times before to make sure Vin noticed every potentially available delivery man from mail to water. This time though it is as if he is moving in slow motion, seemingly with ample time to stop and correct the mistake he is about to make but time presses forward ruthlessly. He's sees Vin register what he is up to, adopting a resigned smile and letting Buck maneuver him and then freezing at the sight of Chris. The indulgent smile vanishes. Buck has another suspended half moment to puzzle over it before Vin uses the heels of his hands to shove him away. Buck staggers against Vin's desk nearly knocking over his chair. Chris, Nathan and JD rush towards them but Buck wards them off with his hand. Vin's chest heaves trying to catch his breath. Buck holds his hands up to him and slowly approaches.

"Buck," Vin manages but that's all.

"Vin, it's all right."

Vin shakes his head, not wanting Buck to either understand or apologize. He holds his hand out. Buck slowly lowers his and then takes Vin's hand. "I'm sorry, Buck. I'm sorry. You startled me, is all." Vin's grip is too strong as if he holding on from the edge of a cliff and vibrates with tension. Buck closes his other hand over Vin's and tries to soothe it and then nods feeling no need to correct him even though he knows it's not true.

"I'm all right, pard," Buck assures him and squeezes his hand.

Vin lets go abruptly and turns to collect his printed report. "This is all done," he says to Chris and drops it on his desk. "Jet lag, I guess."

Chris nods. "Why don't you call it day? Head out to the ranch for the weekend?"

"I reckon I ain't proper company right now so I think I'll just head on home."

"Vin..."

"Call me if you need me."

"I will."

Embarrassed and regretful and still a little angry Vin shakes hands with Buck again who lets go hesitantly and then he is out the door.

"What the hell just happened?" Chris asks, ready to take Buck to task if his answer is unsatisfactory.

Buck turns back to Chris and wonders if Chris knows or if he should tell. He settles on the truth instead. "I got too close."

Chris frowns but accepts his answer.

A New Hat

Vin twists the latch on the bedroom window and then pushes it up. Cool air rushes in along with the early morning sounds of Purgatorio. A car drives by tuned in to salsa music. Selma calls her little brother in for breakfast with more authority than their mother. The lights for the bakery blink on and off across the street. Vin slips through the window out on to the fire escape and wraps his arms around his knees.

If he were at Chris's ranch Peso would be out for a long ride. Vin would give him the reins and let him run full out. If he timed it right they could come back just in time for pancakes, eggs and sausage even though Chris swore he couldn't cook to save his life as apparently breakfast and barbecues don't count.

Vin pulls his legs closer against the wind whistling around him.

Sometimes, not often, when Chris is both hungry and distracted, he hums around his food not unlike the way Vin plays his harmonica. Tuneless and content.

Vin shivers and then under protest slips back inside.

The phone rings and Vin lets the machine take a message. It catches the tale end of Chris's exasperated sigh and then his usual early morning tone. "Yeah Vin, I'm in town picking u

p some files and thought you might want to grab some breakfast but I guess you're not in. 'Cause if you were in you'd pick up, right?" There's a pause and Vin smiles despite his own edginess and wonders if Chris knows how much his temper entertains him. He reaches out for the receiver and that's when Chris ends the call. "Later."

Vin's hand twitches and falls to his side. It would be so easy to call Chris back and take him up on his offer. Too early for the Saloon but the Gem Hotel just down the street from it serves old fashioned breakfast fare to rival Chris's menu. It would be easy to call Chris like he has so many times before but there has always been something in his nature that shies away from a well paved path.

It crosses his mind to call Chanu and wake him up. Just a friendly call. When you coming back, brother? Maybe he could offer to help him pack but Chanu has already let him know exactly what he is going to do.

His apartment suddenly feels overheated but the radiator is off and quiet. He goes into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face and within moments is shivering again. Dammit. His reflection in the mirror brings him to a full stop. Hey little Indian. Vin pulls a wavy lock straight. He remembers how he barely recognized himself when the Army cut away his hair and began the rapid process of refashioning him. With his hair gone everything else had seemed more pronounced. His eyes had looked impossibly large. The planes of his face gave him a hungry look. He wondered if Ko-Je would recognize him. Do you think you're an Indian just because you lived with them? He lets his hair go and begins rummaging under the sink. When he finds the clippers it's as if he has been waiting to make this change for as long as it has taken his hair to grow. He unwraps the cord and plugs it in, turns it on and smiles at the smooth buzzing sound. He is unsure if it is Nettie or the Army that instilled in him the discipline to slow down long enough to put down newspaper on the floor before he begins. He takes off his shirt but leaves his undershirt on. Bracing his bare feet on the newspaper he turns the clippers on again and holds it to his left temple. A slight tug, not unfamiliar and then a brown lank of hair falls to the floor.

There is a knock at the door and Vin silences the clippers. Another knock, firmer this time and then nothing. Vin presses his thumb on the switch and turns it on again only to hear the phone ring over it. He switches it off and listens to the machine pick up the call.

Chris. "Vin, open the fucking door."

Vin tosses the clippers into the sink.

"I swear to god you're worse than a skip."

Vin storms to the front door but right before he yanks it open he covers the swath of missing hair with his hand.

"You all right?" Chris asks, closing his phone.

"I'm fine - except for all the interruptions."

Chris almost smiles at Vin's sass before his eyes question Vin's hand at his forehead. "Bump your head?"

Vin sighs and drops his hand. "Just getting a haircut, is all."

Chris's eyes take in the missing hair and then nail Vin in place. Vin feels a fleeting moment of pride at being able to hold Chris's eye right before Chris pushes his way in. He watches Chris's eyes make a quick inventory of any tells indicating trouble and finding none rest uneasily back on him. "You and Buck all right?"

"He send you out here?" Chris squints at him in response. "Sorry. He just stepped on my toes a bit and I...overreacted."

Chris nods. "I know how ol' Buck can crowd you but he don't mean anything by it - just likes to be in the middle of everything."

Vin nods in return and says quietly. "I know that."

"OK," Chris says and takes off his jacket, tossing it across the arm of the sofa. "I'm gonna take over this," he points at Vin's hair, "before you take off an eyebrow and then I'll..." he tosses his hand out to Vin.

"Get out of my hair?" Vin finishes for him.

Chris pretends to wince. "Where are we doing this?"

"In here," Vin points towards the bathroom and then leads Chris there. Chris takes the clippers from the sink and then turning it on steps behind Vin. In his quiet way and with more gentleness than Vin expected Chris runs the clippers over Vin's head with one hand while the other smoothes away the loose hair. The efficiency and warmth of Chris's palm lull Vin even as he is acutely aware of his proximity.

Vin feels his shoulders settle from down around his ears. Chris steps in closer. Vin presses against the sink. Chris sighs at Vin's reflection and pulls him back with a hand on Vin's forehead.

Vin clears his throat. "You've done this before?"

"Buck. When we were SEAL's." Chris pulls Vin's ear down and carefully buzzes around it. "He won't let me near that mop of hair he has now."

Vin smiles. "Good thing. Buck has the best hat hair I've ever seen. I didn't know hair could do that."

Chris smiles at Vin in the mirror. "Me either." Chris steals another glance. "When's Chanu coming back?"

"He's putting his house up for sale, tying up some loose ends and then he'll be back."

"Purgatorio?"

"Yeah, this old hotel is turning into quite a refuge."

"Does he need help moving?"

"Nah, I offered. He said he was going to set most of it on fire."

"I know the feeling." He tips Vin's head forward to trim the back of his neck and then blows the short hairs away. Vin tenses against the sensation of Chris's breath on his skin. Chris turns off the clippers and smoothes his hand over Vin's head. "All done."

Vin looks in the mirror and the thought that he did this to himself almost makes him laugh. There he is laid bare again. Eyes too wide and searching.

Chris's touch becomes firmer, sweeping down his neck, squeezing his shoulder. "You've got me worried nine different ways."

"Well don't," Vin snaps and then tempers his voice to tell the truth. "You ever feel like cutting everything to the bone, starting over."

Chris nods and bows his head. "Yeah, I reckon I've felt that way a time or two." He looks up again and smiles and scratches at Vin's buzzed hair with his fingertips. "You might have to buy a smaller hat."

It's a gentle tease and Vin knows it but he answers seriously. "It's time I got my own."

Chris nods again and placing his hands on Vin's shoulders squeezes and pulls him closer. "Relax, Vin," Chris's whisper admonishes even though his hands are strong and gentle. Vin's body argues with his instincts leaving him unsure of who has won when he leans back and rests his head on Chris's shoulder. Chris continues his ministrations and then with one long squeeze places a dry kiss on Vin's temple.

A spike of adrenaline surges through Vin's body making him feel almost angry. He twists in Chris's hold and wraps his arms around Chris's neck. Immediately they are both out of breath. Chris's hands slip under Vin's shirt making Vin's skin burn wherever they press or hold. It seems to matter very little that they want the same thing as they strain against each other. Clothes are pulled at and unbuttoned and then left to drape open. Vin hears his belt buckle ring against his hip. His jeans settle low. His own hand fumbles with Chris's to push his boxers down. Chris hisses through his teeth at the sight of a light trail of hair leading to a darker ginger thatch and Vin's pale cock. Vin turns around again and bracing his hands on the sink steadies himself while Chris runs his hands over Vin's lower back, down across his ass and then closer until a single fingertip presses in. Vin's reaction is chaotic. He opens the medicine cabinet so forcefully that it swings back shut. He opens it again and rummages for something, anything to keep this physical connection between them. Eye drops and aspirin fall into the sink, no help at all. He growls when Chris's hands return to his back kneading even more urgency into his skin. He turns again to where they started, arms tight around Chris's neck. Chris squeezes him and then gently pulls Vin's jeans back over his bare skin only to slip back under his shirt for the press of more skin.

Vin clings to Chris needing to feel the heat radiating off of him and letting Chris feel his own. A disbelieving laugh bubbles in his throat at the realization that as careful as he has been not to give himself away all this time that now he is the one stepping on Chris's toes to get closer. He swallows and swallows again and then is finally able to speak, low and hoarse. "Can I - Is this - ?" and trusts Chris to understand. He does and proves it by pressing his cheek against Vin's.

Chris's cheek is smooth against Vin's stubble but it seems to trouble Chris not at all. Vin's fists wad Chris's good blue shirt. He pushes Chris back and slips the shirt off entirely. Chris lets it fall to the floor forgotten and then leans against the doorway to let Vin look his fill. Vin's sets his hands on Chris's narrow waist with a possessive slap and kisses the heavy muscles of his chest. Chris nuzzles his shorn head as Vin's hand slips down his waist into his unbuttoned jeans. Never one for endearments Chris whispers "Shit" when Vin takes him in hand. Vin catches him around the waist and eases him to the floor. Chris sprawls out, arms above his head but still cognizant enough to lift his hips when Vin tugs off his jeans and underwear. Vin removes his own shirt, rucked up under his arms and then stretches out beside Chris, one leg in between his. Chris's belly trembles under Vin's hand no matter how carefully he soothes it. Placing a chaste kiss on his hip Vin leans further down and takes Chris's sex in his mouth.

Chris becomes incoherent, foul mouthed, profane, agreeable. "I - yeah. Oh. Damn. Fuck. Jesus. Yessss." His hand falls heavily on Vin's head but seems content to slip back and forth over the crown. "Vin, Vin," Chris tries to caution him but Vin will have none of it as he swallows Chris's seed and lets Chris shake in his arms. Chris squirms away from him, suddenly too tender for even Vin's gentle lips and tongue. Vin kneels beside him and lets Chris watch him through the slits of his eyes wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and then lick that away with the tip of his tongue. A current runs through Chris making him unsteady and breathless. He raises up on an elbow and then with great effort on to his hands and knees. To Vin he looks like a boxer caught on the ropes with a crowd counting out his fate. Six. Seven. Eight. But as always, Chris reaches down into some unquantifiable reserve and Vin supposes, out to him, always out to him, not as an opponent but an equal. Vin catches Chris's shoulders and feels Chris's hands move over his back, down into his jeans to cup his ass. Vin drops his forehead on to Chris's shoulder and shivers when his jeans fall around his thighs. Chris bears him down, kisses his belly, pushes the jeans further down until Vin kicks them off.

"Damn," Chris says, hoarse and then takes Vin's cock in his hand and the crown of it in his mouth. He keeps Vin there, shallow, but the effect on Vin is profound. His head rolls back and forth. He tries to speak but is unable to even cuss. He looks down to see Chris's lips come off of him and the sight tears through him, rushing his blood. He squeezes his eyes shut against it but it's too late. Chris puts his hand on Vin's belly, feels the muscles quake under his palm and watches Vin come.

They have made it no further than the braided rug in the small hallway. One door leads back into the bathroom, one to the bedroom and one to the living room and out the front door. Neither one moves as Chris kisses Vin, mouth soft, more interested in connection than heat. Vin holds on to Chris's shoulders with his fingertips, his arms suddenly too heavy.

Chris is asleep on his belly with one hand reaching out to cup Vin's cheek just below his black eye. This small, awkward connection makes Vin smile even as he slips away from it and out of bed. He stands beside Chris and watches him sleep, his back rising and falling in one slow breath after another. He doubts that he will ever get over being amazed that this man is here with him, this close with no trace of censor or hesitation. If anything, Chris's only demand seems to be for more.

Vin pulls himself away reluctantly and opens a drawer quietly for a pair of sweat pants. He slips them on and then heads out to the hallway. Their clothes are still there, turned inside out and in a riot on the floor. The small area still holds the smell of sweat and sex despite the long shower they took. He wads up his own clothes and tosses them in the hamper while draping Chris's jeans and shirt over the back of a kitchen chair.

They have done little more than explore each others bodies with hands and mouths and yet the survey has left his muscles pulling along with odd bruises such as the one on side of his elbow or the more understandable one low on his neck. He touches it and flinches. His over-sensitized skin feels the air like a bite.

For some reason these sensations remind him of the times in his life when he has fought hard and received as good as he put out and yet it was never the fights that hurt as much as the healing afterwards. With adrenaline and anger absent he was left with small scratches that chafed against soft sheets, sore muscles that even a long bath couldn't help and an ache low on his back where all his troubles would visit him from time to time. It is always the healing that hurts the most.

He stretches and ambles out into the living room. No lights are on but the last rays of the day are pouring in through the window. The montage of photographs on the wall call his attention like they have done since they went up. Not for the first time he considers taking his own picture down to shake the feeling of being the center of attention. It has always been too revealing and now it is almost embarrassing. Did he always look like that? Is this what Buck saw at work or did he simply give himself away?

He reaches for the picture and is startled when Chris wraps his arms around his waist. "Leave it," he mumbles, still drowsy.

Vin's hands drop and tug at the jeans Chris put on while he was lost in thought and then settle over Chris's hands. Chris sighs and then rests his chin on Vin's shoulder. For a long moment Vin wonders if he should turn and begin something again but sets the thought aside as Chris thoughtlessly rocks him and begins humming as if he is eating something delicious. The sound pulls at the corners of his mouth. Slowly, always testing the waters, Vin rests his head on Chris's shoulder and then presses his forehead against his cheek.

Vin rides past the bathhouse, past the saloon, out of town. He does not know why he stayed as long as he did. All that he needs is tied to his saddle or worn on his back. He knees Peso into an easy gallop. The sound of another horse coming up hard behind him makes him stop and turn in his saddle.

Chris interrupts his own humming to grunt at the effort to hold Vin tighter.

Vin is twenty-nine, almost thirty when he reaches up and rests his palm on Chris's cheek.

End of The Years In Between

For my friend Aaron.

Notes:
The song I imagined Ko-Je singing over Vin is actually called Peyote Healing by Robbie Robertson featuring Verdell Premeaux and Johnny Mike. It's a simple vocal track and very powerful for that. There are times when I think I started this story just to have Ko-Je sing for Vin. The doodles on Vin's beer coaster are also taken from songs. The one that begins with Mother don't worry is from Upward Over the Mountain by Iron and Wine and the second one, Your bright eyes are what the time is is from Nightblindness by David Gray. The details for The Making of a Relative come from a wonderful book called Mother Earth Spirituality, Native American Paths to Healing Ourselves and Our World by Ed McGaa, Eagle Man. The converted hotel that Nettie owns is based on a Denver hotel called the Brown Palace. I only bothered to scale it down to five stories and sprinkle it with graffiti and heavier locks.

Thank you for your patience and encouragement.

Your thoughts are welcomed at: trueenough at gmail dot com

September 7, 2006