Title--Standing In Death's Shadow
Author--Winnie
Rating--PG13
Characters--Chris, Buck, but the others are involved as well.
Disclaimer--I hold no claim to Mag 7 or the characters, but I do enjoy playing around in this fandom. No money is made, this is purely for enjoyment.
Comments--This is for Kathi's birthday….She wanted Chris H/C and I hope this fits the bill. My thanks to Marti and Antoinette for the wonderful beta job and to Pamela for the fantastic pic to accompany this story.
"The Lawrence brothers should be arriving on the stage today," Royal said, pouring two stiff belts of whiskey and handing one to his associate.
"Good, it's time Larabee and his friends paid for what they've cost us," James spat as he downed the shot of expensive whiskey.
"Well, if anyone can make them pay it's the Lawrence brothers. They got a reputation back east of taking down stronger men than Larabee's bunch."
"If they take out the so-called Magnificent Seven then the money we spent was well worth it!" James said, his tone sarcastic as he waited for the other man to refill his glass.
"First thing I do once they are taken care of is visit that old crone again and take back all those 'gifts' she gave me."
"Gave you?" James asked, smiling at the other man's choice of words.
"Well, these small ranchers…they love me. They give me gifts," Royal said, laughing at the reaction his words received from James.
"Yeah, maybe it's time they started being generous with me too…soon's those bastards are out of the way," James told him.
"Billy should be in Four Corners now and he'll ride out to meet us as soon as there's any news. Right now we'd better get the men together and get on the trail. The rest of Larabee's men should be heading back this way in the next day or two and I want to be waiting for them."
"I'm looking forward to taking that bunch down a peg or two. Show them what happens when they stick their noses into other people's business."
"You and me both, but don't forget Tanner's mine. That bastard made a fool out of me in front of my men!"
"No, problem…I've already told my men to leave him to you."
Royal smiled as he filled the two glasses once more and lifted his in a toast. "To the Magnificent Seven, may they burn in hell!"
The two men laughed as they continued to talk, making plans as they prepared to ride. There were a dozen men waiting on horseback when they exited the house and mounted up.
"Okay Boys, let's see how magnificent those bastards really are!" James said as they rode out of the yard.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Chris sat in front of the saloon, watching as Buck flirted with one of the ladies who came in on the noon stage. The man was insatiable, yet Chris knew him better than anyone else in town. Buck may be a flirt and a womanizer, but there wasn't a better man to have watching your back. Several people came in with the stage, two women and three men. None of the newcomers did anything suspicious, but the gunslinger never left anything to chance. One of the women was moving on with the stage, the other four were staying on. Wilmington was flirting with the lady who was staying in town. Chris leaned the chair back until he felt the wall of the saloon behind him and stretched his legs out until he could reach the rail.
This was his home now. A little town that once had a reputation that could've rivaled Tombstone, but that changed the day Judge Travis hired them. They'd been through a lot since then, but were still in town, still protecting the residents, whether they wanted it or not. Most of the people treated them with respect now, which was a damn site better than when the new law had come to town. Marshal Walter Bryce died because he didn't have enough respect for the west, and he'd paid the ultimate price. He died while locked in a jail cell. They knew who was behind it all now, and would soon be able to bring them to trial. Chris was looking forward to putting the two men behind the marshal's murder in the same cell where Bryce had died. He knew the five missing peacekeepers would be back from Eagle Bend the following day, and that's when the Seven would make their move. First on Guy Royal and then on Stuart James...the two men would be brought before Judge Travis and hopefully spend some time behind bars for what they'd done.
Chris smiled as he watched Wilmington work; the man could charm the honey from a hive of angry bees without missing a beat. He watched as the ladies' man tipped his hat and hurried toward him, a familiar smile on his face.
"Well, Stud, that's one mighty fine filly..."
"Buck, any woman's a fine filly to you. So, is she going to see you again?"
"Well, see, she's got to see her brother tonight to discuss business..."
"You struck out?"
"I wouldn't say that, Pard, it's more like I'm going to have to play her a little line...you know...like fishing...let them think they are getting away before reeling them in and..."
"Buck, I'd say be careful. The little fish you're trying to reel in could be a shark," Larabee said as Wilmington sat on the railing. His face grew serious as he watched the two newcomers from the stage. There was something about them he didn't trust yet he couldn't quite pin down the reason for it.
"I've been watching them two," he said softly.
"Me too, any idea who they are?"
"No, but they sure look like hired killers to me. You don't suppose Royal or James got word on what we're planning do you?"
"It's possible," Larabee answered as he watched the newcomers from under the brim of his hat.
"What time are Vin and the others coming back tomorrow?"
"Sometime between seven and eight...they know we're making the raid on Royal's place shortly after noon," the gunslinger answered.
"Gonna be a long day tomorrow."
"Yes, it is, just make sure you don't have a long night tonight," Larabee said, a cocky grin plastered on his face.
"Now, Chris, you know me. Nights are my favorite time for a good..."
"Yeah, Buck, I know what nights are to you," the blond said, glad this man was back in his life once more. He frowned as he saw the two men enter Gloria Potter's store. A sneaking suspicion came over him once more and he stood up.
"What's wrong?" Wilmington asked, instantly on alert.
"I'm not sure, but the two men from the stage just went into Mrs. Potter's."
"Want to check it out?"
"I was thinking it's time I picked out a new shirt," Larabee answered.
"Sounds like a plan. Maybe I can help you out," Wilmington said and the two men walked towards the mercantile.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7
Harve Lawrence looked at his brother William and smiled as they entered the well-stocked general store. The sun shining through the window did little to illuminate the dim interior, but the duo weren't there to browse. They'd spotted the two men they were after and now just needed to take care of business and be on their way before the rest of the so-called 'Magnificent Seven' returned. The two brothers were from Boston and seldom came to the west, but the price for this job was well worth the trip into this Godforsaken part of the country. Guy Royal and Stuart James wanted the best and they'd sent word to Boston that top dollar would be paid if the two men could do a small job for them without raising suspicions that they were involved. Now it was just a matter of making sure the job was done and getting away before the other peacekeepers arrived.
The woman behind the counter glanced up expecting to see a friendly face, and was surprised by the elegantly clad strangers who entered. The two men were dressed exactly the same, black pants, black coats, black boots, white shirt and string tie. She shivered as she looked at identical clean-shaven faces, but kept her nervousness hidden behind a small smile.
"Good afternoon, Gentlemen. Is here something I can help you with?"
"Well now, Ma'am, that's mighty kind of you to ask. You see my brother and I are in the market for ammunition for our weapons. Do you perchance carry shells?" Harve asked, reaching for the woman's hand and smiling as she drew away.
"Yes...I do," she answered, drawing back from the man's cold touch.
"May we see them please," William asked, turning as a shadow fell across the counter. He turned to see the two newcomers and smiled as Larabee and Wilmington stood framed in the sunlight from the open doorway.
"Well, well, who have we here?" Harve asked, leaning against the counter.
"These are the town's peacekeepers," Gloria answered relieved to see the two men enter the store. "Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Larabee?"
"Chris is in the market for a new shirt, Mrs. Potter," Wilmington answered as Larabee moved to the side. He knew Chris didn't miss the tied down gun belts or the way the twins had lifted their jackets behind the holsters.
"We just had a new shipment come in on the stage," Gloria said, moving to help the gunslinger.
"I do believe my brother and I were attempting to make a purchase before these gentlemen arrived," Harve Lawrence warned, grabbing the woman's wrist before she could move out from behind the counter. He turned to see ice blue eyes set in an angered face and smiled charmingly.
"You'd best take your hands off her!" Wilmington warned, knowing Larabee was watching his back.
"Of course, I was merely attempting to point out that we are customers and as such deserve to be treated properly," the man explained, releasing the woman.
"You okay, Mrs. Potter?" Wilmington asked as the woman rubbed her wrist.
"I'm fine, Mr. Wilmington. Thank you," said the storeowner watching as Larabee seemed to browse through the new shirts, yet she understood the man's attention was not on the new items on display.
"Now, Mrs. Potter, would you be so kind as to show us the requested ammunition?" William asked, keeping his eyes on the black clad gunslinger. Larabee's reputation was widely known, and he was fast becoming a legend even in cities as far away as Boston.
"Mrs. Potter is holding the last box for me, isn't that right?" Larabee asked, stepping past the two men and smiling thinly at the woman.
"Why, yes, Mr. Larabee, I was just about to explain that to these gentlemen..."
"Now, Mrs. Potter, you told my brother and I that you had bullets for sale."
"I'm sorry, but I forgot I saved them for Mr. Larabee and since he is a regular customer it would not be prudent for me to sell them to strangers."
"You are a very shrewd businesswoman, Mrs. Potter, perhaps there will be other items you would willingly sell to us?" Harve Lawrence asked.
"Just tell me what you need," the woman said.
"Well, perhaps you could direct us to the undertakers. Perhaps we'll have some business for him before long."
Larabee and Wilmington didn't flinch when William Lawrence asked about the undertakers, yet they understood it was an unsubtle threat against them.
"You boys best be moving on," Larabee said, his voice soft, but filled with deadly intensity.
"Why, Mr. Larabee, surely you don't want to rob the poor man of a chance to fill his coffins...I mean coffers," Harve corrected, his hand easing toward his gun.
"The man gets enough business without strangers coming into town and giving him more!" Wilmington told them.
"Ah, yes, I believe I read about some of the business you boys have provided him with," William said, watching Larabee closely.
"Oh, yes, I read that too. Something about the streets ran red with blood as notorious gunslinger Chris Larabee... William, I do believe we are in the company of a famous man. You are the Chris Larabee referred to in Mrs. Travis' newspaper are you not?"
Chris knew these men were baiting him and turned to lean his elbows on the counter. He wanted to stop trouble before it started, but there was nothing he could do if the duo were hell bent on a fight. Right now it was verbal sparring, and he hoped it would stay that way, at least until they were outside or he could get Gloria Potter out of danger.
"You boys have me at a disadvantage. Who are you?"
"I'm Harve Lawrence and this is my brother William...perhaps you've heard of us?"
"No, can't say that I have. Buck, have you heard of the Lawrence brothers?"
"Nope...never heard tell of 'em. Are you boys s'posed to be famous?"
"Who are you?" William asked.
"Buck Wilmington..."
"Ah, Larabee's watchdog. Heard the man needed one after his family was killed. Pretty bad when a man can't take care of his own!" William spat, contempt evident in his voice, smiling as a flicker of anger crossed the black clad gunslinger's face.
"You'd better watch your mouth, Mister!" Wilmington warned his hand resting on the gun at his hip.
"Are you going to protect him from me as well?" Harve asked, grinning coldly at the two peacekeepers, before his gaze came to rest on Larabee's face. "Perhaps we should offer to buy you boys a drink...after all, once a drunk always a drunk!"
"Why you..."
"Easy, Buck, don't let them get to you. You boys best be moving on!" Larabee's features were deceptively calm as he straightened away from the counter and stood to his full height.
"We will be moving on, but first we have some business to complete," Harve told him.
"Take your business to another town," Wilmington angrily suggested.
"Perhaps Mrs. Potter does not feel as you do. You see we have money to pay for our purchases and I'm sure she could do with some extra money."
"Not from the likes of you," Gloria said, fearful of the heated exchange between the four men.
"Then perhaps we'll just take what we need and be moving on!" Harve advised, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes.
"I wouldn't try it," Larabee warned, signaling for Mrs. Potter to leave.
Gloria hurried out from behind the counter and found Wilmington protecting her with his own body as she made her way to the door.
"We take what we want, Larabee!" William warned.
"Not in this town!" the blond spat, breathing a sigh of relief when the woman was safely out the door. He saw the flicker of movement from the man on his left and reached for his own weapon as Harve and William Lawrence ducked behind the counter for cover.
"Buck, get down!" the black clad gunslinger shouted as he ducked behind the display of shirts. Several shots were fired from the counter, and Chris was quickly pinned down. He tried to find his friend, but couldn't see anything in the gloomy interior. A shot from his right told him where the rogue was, and he knew the man was unable to move either.
"You can leave now, Larabee, and we'll forget the whole thing!" Harve called.
"We'll just take what we need and go...and you can go back to wallowing in your bottle!"
"Not gonna happen...you boys might as well give up and come out of there! Judge Travis will be in town in a week and he'll be interested in hearing your story." Larabee said, quickly returning fire as several bullets ricocheted off the shelves behind him. He felt something slam into his right side, but didn't take the time to check the wound as several more shots rang out. He lifted his head above the display and caught sight of one of the Lawrence brothers drawing a bead on Wilmington. He fired the gun and smiled as the man toppled over and fell to the floor. The gunslinger dropped back down, wincing as sharp pain reminded him of the wound in his side. He emptied the spent shells and reached for the cartridges in his belt, loading the gun with shaky hands even as the crimson stain spread on his shirt.
"You bastard...you killed him!" the cry of rage came from the second man as Wilmington moved closer to the counter.
"Chris! Behind you!" the rogue said, spotting the second Lawrence brother moving toward Larabee. His own gun was empty and he ducked as a bullet hit the wall beside him.
Chris heard the commotion just as he finished reloading and turned toward the advancing man. He lifted his arm at the same time the newcomer did and twin gunshots sounded in the closed in space. Larabee's gun dropped from his hands as the force of his own bullet drove Lawrence across the counter once more. He looked down at his right arm and saw the second bloodstain spreading in a crimson tide across his shoulder.
"Chris!" Wilmington shouted when he heard the gunshots. He quickly moved forward, glanced at the two brothers and knew they were dead. Larabee's bullets were well placed and twin sets of hazel eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling. Satisfied they would cause no more trouble Buck moved toward the last place he'd seen Larabee and felt a stab of fear when he saw the pale face of his best friend.
"A...are they dead?" Larabee asked.
"Yeah...you hit 'em both. Where are you hurt?" the ladies man asked, unable to see very well in the small space between the display and the shelves behind them.
"Shoulder and s...side...damn!" he gasped as he tried to move.
"Easy, ol' son, just lie still and let me take a look," Wilmington ordered.
"O...okay," Larabee whispered, his body trembling with the onset of pain. At first there'd been nothing, but as the tension and adrenalin receded the wounds came to life.
"Chris, Buck, are you boys all right?"
"Tiny, is that you?"
"Yeah...Buck...what's going on?"
"Chris has been shot and I need you to get a few boys to help me get him to Nathan's...ah hell!"
"W...what's w...wrong?" Larabee asked, his breath coming in hitching gasps.
"Nathan's not here, Chris."
"H...he'll be back tomorrow...nothing y...you c...can do."
"Damn it. Tiny, get the undertaker to come take these two out of Mrs. Potter's store."
"Sure, Buck."
Larabee closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to dull to a more bearable level, but he knew from experience that was not going to happen for quite some time. Swallowing past the nausea and dizziness he forced heavy lids open and looked into the worried face of his long time friend. "Damn!"
"Yeah, I know...okay, Chris, me and Tiny are going to get you to Nate's clinic. You just hold on a minute, okay?"
"Not...not going any...anywhere," the blond assured him.
"Mrs. Potter, would you send a telegram to Eagle Bend. Let Nathan know Chris was shot and they need to get back here as quickly as they can?"
"Right away, Mr. Wilmington," the woman said and hurried past the gathered townspeople outside her store.
"Alright, Pard, let's get you out of here."
"O...okay," the blond whispered, crying out as the two men helped him to his feet. He held his breath as he took the first stumbling step and tried to force one foot in front of the other. Pain washed over him in waves and he fought back the bile, rising in his throat. He heard gasps from several people as they stepped out into the bright sunshine, but could not allay their worries as he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He didn't know how long it took to get to the livery, but he opened his eyes and saw the stairs in front of him. They stretched out before him, an insurmountable task that he could not perform as his legs buckled. He felt the two men lift his limp body and heard Wilmington's words of assurance.
"Easy, Chris, I got ya," the ladies' man said as he carried the injured man up the stairs and waited for Tiny to open the door. He hurried across to the bed and between him and the liveryman they eased the gunslinger onto it. "Tiny, go over to the saloon and ask Inez if she can help me here. Tell her we'll need whiskey to..."
"D...drink," Larabee rasped as he licked at dry lips.
"Sure Stud," the rogue said, smiling at his friends attempt at humor.
"Anything else?"
"Water...and bandages...and get a couple of men to patrol the town."
"Are you expecting more trouble?" Tiny asked as he watched Wilmington sit the gunslinger up and ease the black duster off his shoulders. He winced in sympathy at Larabee's muffled cry of pain.
"I don't know and I don't want to take any chances. If either Royal or James shows up I want to know right away."
"I'll see to it and be right back."
"No, Tiny, I'd rather you make sure there's no more surprises. There was a man and woman on the stage with those two. I don't know if they had anything to do with this, but I'm not taking any chances."
"All right, Buck, I'll make sure the town's safe and I'll keep an eye on them two!"
"Thanks, Tiny," the ladies' man said and heard the sound of retreating footsteps. "All right, Chris, lets get that shirt off and see what we're dealing with."
"Buck, how can I help?"
Wilmington turned to see the pretty Mexican woman enter the clinic. "That was quick...I just sent Tiny to get you."
"I heard what happened and thought you could use some help. How are you, Senor?" she asked placing a bottle of whiskey on the table beside the bed.
"F...fine..."
"You can't lie worth a damn, ol' son," Wilmington laughed.
"W...whiskey," Larabee said as the rogue helped him out of his shirt and eased him back on the bed.
"Just a little, Chris, you're still bleeding and Nate says that stuff just makes it worse!" Wilmington warned as Inez uncapped the bottle and poured a liberal shot in the glass.
Chris accepted the fiery liquid and dumped the contents into his mouth, swallowing and gasping as it hit his throat and stomach. He felt several pillows placed behind him and hissed as he lay back against them. He heard Wilmington giving orders to Inez, but kept his eyes closed in an effort to calm the nauseating pain ripping through his side and shoulder.
"Chris, I need to clean the wounds."
"I k...know...Buck...do...i...it!" the blond ordered as he forced his eyes open and looked into the worried faces above him. Gloria Potter had joined them and seemed to be working at Jackson's small stove.
"Chris, the bullet went clean through your shoulder and I think it may be broken..."
"News f...for you, B...Buck...it is," Larabee groaned as Inez cleaned the entrance wound in his right shoulder.
"Sorry, Senor," the Mexican woman apologized.
"I...it's o...okay...n...not your f...fault," the blond assured her weakly.
"Mr. Wilmington the water is ready when you need it."
"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," Wilmington said and filled the basin with warm water laced with carbolic acid before moving back to the bed.
"B...Buck?"
"I'm right here," the ladies' man assured him.
"Y...you s…s…said the bullet went through my sho...shoulder. W...what a...about my si...side?"
"That one's still there, Pard, but Mrs. Potter sent a message to Eagle Bend. Nathan and the others are probably already on their way home."
"H...hope so...God..."
"Easy, Chris, I just need to ease you onto your side so Inez can clean the exit wound and we can bandage it until Nathan gets here and puts in the stitches. We're gonna strap your arm to your chest so you can't…"
"He...hell," Larabee groaned as he shifted his upper body. He felt Wilmington's strong arms holding him in place as the Mexican woman cleaned the exit wound. Something stabbed at his side and he wondered what kind of damage the bullet had done.
"Almost done, Senor," Inez said as she wrapped the bandage around his upper body in order to keep movement to a minimum. She met Wilmington's worried frown and knew the next wound would be even worse for Larabee.
"Finished, Chris," the ladies' man said, easing the man back down once more.
"Thank Christ," he moaned, feeling another set of hands touching his body.
"Chris, I found Nathan's Laudanum and I think you need to take some," the rogue said, lifting the sweat soaked blond head and placing the bottle at his mouth. He poured a liberal amount past the slack lips and held his friend as he coughed dryly.
Larabee cried out as the pain in his side intensified and reached for the source of the agony. Again he felt Wilmington hold him, but could not acknowledge it as darkness reached up and he sagged against his friend.
Buck felt Larabee's body tense and suddenly go still and held him for several long minutes. He felt the blond's breath against his own body before laying him back once more. "He's out cold, Inez; we need to clean the wound in his side. Mrs. Potter, is there any more hot water?"
"Of, course, Mr. Wilmington," the woman said, watching while Wilmington got rid of the crimson colored water and brought the empty basin to the stove once more.
The next half hour was spent cleaning the wound in Larabee's right side and making sure he was comfortable. Several times during the procedure the injured man groaned, but he remained in an unconscious state. Wilmington held him while the two women wrapped strips of cloth around his midsection before gently placing him back on the pillows. There was already a flush to Larabee's pale cheeks and he knew things would only get worse until the bullet was removed.
"God, Chris, you damn well better not be planning on checking out on me."
"Mr. Wilmington. I need to get back to the store, but if there's anything you need just let me know."
"I will, Mrs. Potter, thank you for your help."
"If it wasn't for me Mr. Larabee wouldn't have been hurt," the older woman whispered.
"Now wait a minute, Ma'am, ain't no way this is your fault. Just because it happened in your store don't mean you did anything wrong. Those two were hankerin' for a fight when they got off the stage. Chris was wary of 'em as soon's he saw 'em and to be honest so was I. Those two just didn't seem the type to be moving out west."
"Buck, do you think they went after you and Chris on purpose?" Inez asked
"It sure looks that way. They seemed to know a lot about Chris and they were baiting him, but he wasn't going for it. I got a sneaking suspicion those two were hired guns..."
"But who..." the older woman asked.
"Royal and James. Seems to me those two may just know what we're planning tomorrow and maybe they wanted to make sure we were out of the way."
"They should've been sent to jail when they killed Marshal Bryce and tried to burn us out," Gloria Potter told them angrily.
"No argument here, Ma'am, but there's nothing we can do about it now, except make sure Chris is okay and when the others get back we'll finish it."
"It's about time Royal and James paid for everything they've done!" the storeowner spat.
"Yeah, well, we're hoping we can get one to testify against the other. Maybe bring them both down at the same time. Judge Travis will be here next week and he'll offer them both a deal...just wish we could find more witnesses to what happened. We've got a good shot though, especially when Royal and James find out who the witness against them is. Least it should make the judge's job easier," Wilmington said as he turned back to the injured man.
"I hope you're right," Inez said, standing and following Gloria to the door. "I need to check on things at the saloon. If you need anything, Buck, just send someone over to get me. I'll bring dinner for both of you as soon as I can."
"Thanks, Inez," Wilmington said, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the unconscious gunslinger. He reached for the man's boots and pulled them from his feet and knew the tight black jeans would have to go if he wanted the blond to be comfortable. As gently as possible Buck eased the jeans down over the lean hips and buttocks and finally slid them off Larabee's legs. Next he reached for the patchwork quilt at the end of the bed. Shaking out the folded material he quickly covered Chris up to the chest with it. Sighing heavily he leaned back in the chair and pressed his fingers to his eyes. His back ached and he stretched his legs in an effort to ease the tension in his limbs.
"Jesus, Chris, I hate it when we're right," he whispered and settled in for what he knew would be a long night.
TBC