This is an old story and it will probably read that way. The story I am working on now will make reference to events in this story so I'm posting it so the next one will make sense.
You and I, we're buddies
And we've been since we first met.
Me and you, well, we've sure been through
Our share of laughter and regrets.
Lord knows we've had our bad days
And more than once we've disagreed,
But you've always been a friend to me.
You can be so stubborn,
There's times I think you just like to fight
And I hope and pray I live to see the day
When you say I might be right
And there's times I'd rather kill you
Than listen to your honesty
But you've always been a friend to me.
You've always been
Time and again
The one to take my hand
And show me
That it's okay to be
Just the way I am
With no apologies
Oh, You've always been
and you will 'til God knows when
Yes, you've always been, a friend to me…
"A Friend To Me"
Garth Brooks
A FRIEND TO ME
The seven men kneed their horses up the rock and shale encrusted rise. Their formation was as subtly out of sync as their sense of camaraderie. Chris Larabee's smoky gelding led as usual, but not from the center of his fellow peacekeepers. Vin Tanner sat his mount to Larabee's right, as had become second nature. He appreciated that Josiah Sanchez rode next to him, attempting some degree of soothing by his mere presence. Nathan Jackson rode in the center, his natural need to heal currently, subconsciously, extended to trying to position himself to mend the rift within his family. Ezra Standish, beside Nathan, scanned the horizon, apparently oblivious or disinterested in any emotional upheaval that didn't effect him personally. That Gambit's head bobbed nervously on an arched neck, and shook his mane as he blew, was a clue that the horse was picking up on something from his master; something humans could not sense. Vin smiled. He didn't miss the fact that the horse gave up the unsettled discernment the gambler tried to conceal. Vin suspected it was no coincidence that Larabee's resident antagonist positioned himself to show support for Buck.
Buck Wilmington. Another action taken on a subconscious level. The tall gunfighter would not allow their youngest member to act as a part of the buffer that the others now represented between him and his old time friend. So JD rode to Buck's right seeking some comfort in proximity and praying for action. He thought he would take any distraction to refocus the anger and frustration that worked its way back and forth among the men like ball lightning across barbed wire.
Vin was disquieted as he watched his best friend for any of the wordless communication they shared and he valued so protectively. Larabee seemed to be consciously fighting the rapport. He and Buck had had rifts before. Chris had been on the outs with the others - Ezra more times than Vin cared to count. But he had never let it spill over into their ability to communicate silently. Something else was going on here. Buck had some hint of what it was, and he didn't like it.
A series of killings had gradually worked its way east. The victims, all men, were usually strangers in the land in which they died. Once identified, the men had nothing in common. They had been fathers, businessmen, ranchers, loners and drunks ... content, ambitious, angry, kind and malicious. The men would disappear from their homes and days or weeks later, they were dead. Even the manner of death held little consistency. There appeared to be no pattern or motive.
As the threat finally approached the outer ranges of the territory protected by the Magnificent Seven, the nighthawks added the element of fire to their attacks. A young boy, Israel Phillips, had suffered painful, permanent scarring from the flames. The husband was missing. The wife was left to comfort her son alone.
The quiet, introspective bounty hunter recognized the haunting grief that, never far from the surface, again had his friend dwelling on those last moments when Sarah and Adam had been alone. Wondering, had Sarah been able to give any comfort to their son in the end?
The timing for all of this couldn't be worseVin reflected with more than a little uncommon bitterness. Chris had by no means come to terms with identifying Ella Gaines as the one behind his family's death. It wasn't surprising that when fire and the attacks on families were added to these raids the inconsolable widower saw that woman's touch. He set out to exploit this new lead in his quest to find the murderess.
Chris had bitterly refused to allow Buck or any of the others to accompany him in his pursuit. Wilmington had defiantly refused to wait for Chris to return before he and JD set out on their own to track down the men who threatened their boundaries.
Biting down on the stubby cigar between his teeth, the dark gunfighter cut his eyes down the line of men beside him. He couldn't help it. He was mad at Buck. He knew Buck was mad at him. But Chris felt his own anger was different, justified. With little more than a feeling deep in his gut, Chris believed Ella Gaines was telling him she was still in the area. Was it just his imagination? He couldn't take the chance.
He refused to let Buck anywhere near Ella again. The man didn't have a lick of sense when it came to self-preservation.. Ella had killed a woman and child; had been willing to kill men she hadn't even known. But she knew Buck. Or of him. She knew he had seen Chris through the first time he left her. Now the second. He had seen him through the loss of Sarah and Adam. No, Buck wouldn't be anywhere around if he even suspected Ella was in the area. He was too good a target. But his carefree friend would argue away all of these concerns if they were explained to him, so Chris used anger to push him away. And then what was he thinking? With only that damn kid, he had set off to search them out on his own.
Buck sat slightly forward over his borrowed horse's neck; tense. He couldn't relax back in the saddle. Buck had been furious when Chris insisted on looking for Ella Gaines alone. Buck knew that bitch now. He'd only heard stories before. She knew everything there was to know about Chris - how to play him, how to reel him in, how to get to him emotionally. Buck tried to hold on to the anger, but when he thought about what his friend had been through, it was lost to a more painful emotion - grief. A great sense of loss.
Buck felt someone watching him and looked up in time to meet Vin's companionable blue gaze. But Buck sensed the other man was gauging his emotions through his eyes. He knew he was being read and tried to hide what he was feeling.
Vin sighed. He remembered sitting in front of the Sheriff's office with Chris after his returned. He had come back with only the certainty that these dangerous men were nearby - and then to find that Buck and JD were missing...
Well after sunset Chris's glance would drift toward the east end of town. "I don't rightly expect them back tonight," Vin offered, "Knowin' Buck... "
"Yeah. I know Buck," Chris had grumbled and headed for the bar and a bottle.
Chris's patience had been pushed beyond endurance the next mid-morning, seeing Casey Wells, stirrups flying as she pumped her horse into town. Her breathless account of men coming in the pre-dawn hours infuriated him. "We have to get back. Help her." She had pled. Casey's offering that, "Aunt Nettie made me leave her. She thinks they might be the ones you're after," had them horse bound in record time. Chris's mind reeled with what these men were capable of.
Anticipating what they would come up on, the ashes, and the smell... for just the briefest of moments, during that race to the ranch, dreading what they could find, Vin could put himself in his friend's place that day, long ago. What a horrific, waking nightmare, to ride up on...
Vin was jolted from his reverie by the flutter of small wings. A mourning dove flittered from a scrub mesquite as they passed. For several yards, the soft gray bird seemed unable to get one wing to work. Finally she took off into the air. Vin shot an embarrassed grimace toward Chris for being caught so unaware. It wouldn't do for them to be come upon by these men because he was distracted. Chris finally, begrudgingly, acknowledged Vin's earlier protective regard with a half-grin. "Guess we've all been a bit high strung, lately."
Vin chortled at his friend's acquiescence to the situation. Knowing the intense Chris Larabee was on guard, Vin couldn't seem to help but let his thoughts drift back to the day before. What were the chance course of events that had Buck and JD show up at Nettie's just as Chris's anger had reached the boiling point? There had been little real damage to Nettie's place, a few lost hens, and foodstuffs, her medicinal whiskey. Where Vin had been relieved at this sight, the thought of what they might have found had yet to let go of Chris's mind and body.
"They had a Southern accent, boys. Not as smooth as Mr. Standish, but they were Johnny Rebs." Nettie had been toward the end of her story when...
"Who?" JD asked as he dashed in like a windstorm. "What happened? Is everybody okay?" Chicken feathers scattered like a fox had been in the hen house, broken corral posts and broken windows, had startled the boy. He ran up onto the porch and burst inside. He had been met by Chris's overeager trigger finger. Chris pulled up immediately. He was on a short fuse. He could have pulled the trigger.
"Damn it, JD, don't you ever learn? Running in without thought to the situation... "
"I... I saw... outside... "
"Even more reason to be cautious before you barge in!"
"He thought since your horses were out front, Pard, you'd have things under control. Boy mighta even thought to be safer with you." Buck followed JD in and quickly defended the boy's actions. "I'll set him straight. Don't want Chris Larabee shoving a gun up your nose." Buck's quick smile and light tone of voice was in conflict with the tension in his body and the protective 'leave him alone' glare he threw at Chris.
"I was worried, Miz Nettie, " JD offered as an apology. "Are you and Casey alright?"
"Casey's just comin' outta the barn, Kid. Go ask her yourself."
JD willingly vacated the electrified room. "Ease up on the boy, Chris." Buck's tone was threatening.
"What does it take, Buck? For you to act responsibly? You knew these men were in the area."
"We were looking for those men. Here, Eagle Bend, what does it matter where we focus the search? One more night... "
"One more night?" Chris's voice was a low, feral whisper. "How long before you tell JD 'one more night' and he comes home to worse than this?"
Buck blanched. The color left his face as if he were one week dead. He knew exactly what his old friend referred to. Let's stay one more night. The Mexico Trip. It was one of many they'd taken, but this one was forever, 'The Mexico Trip'. They had stayed one more night. It had been Buck's idea. When they returned... the charred wooden ruins... the memory...
Buck had been blindsided. There was no way he could have known what happened here at Nettie's. No way to prevent it. No way to know why it brought this blow from his old friend. But Buck never defended himself against this one attack by Chris. Chris could never blame Buck more than he blamed himself for that day. Buck, too, had lost Sarah and Adam. And Buck had lost his best friend. Ezra's first thought was that he was glad JD hadn't been witness to this altercation. Nathan had to look away from the despair and shock he saw in Buck's expressive eyes.
Chris saw it, too. And he shut his eyes. The dead ends, chasing the nightriders, the fires, the deformed child, Buck taking his risks, the attack on Nettie's place, the memories of Sarah and Adam... and Ella. They mirrored each other, magnified his pain and anger, and reflected it all back stronger than before.
So why did he always focus that hurt on the friend who had walked that lost trail with him? It was because Buck knew his secrets, his weaknesses, knew he cared in a way none of the others could. Or at least the enigmatic gunfighter could deny it of the others, or so he thought. They hadn't been there. But Buck had been there and represented emotions that could tear him open again.
Chris opened his eyes. How long had he been lost in thought? Buck was no longer in the living room. Nathan and Josiah had busied themselves helping Nettie clean up. He could see Buck through the window checking Pal's fore hoof. JD was with Casey by the corral. Vin was giving him space. And Ezra. There was a look on his face that was unexpected. Some barely contained emotion. Ezra must have sensed Chris's eyes on him because just as quickly the passive mask replaced the emotion. And Ezra left the house.
Now, in the open countryside, these were the events and resulting feelings that kept the bounty hunter from giving full attention to his surroundings. Vin hadn't missed the look on Ezra's face either. Or Josiah, or Nathan. He knew his friend had regretted some of the things he had said as soon as they were out of his mouth. And then he learned Buck's big gray had picked up a stone bruise which had contributed to their delay in getting back to Four Corners; that they had only been at Nettie's because it was closer than town.
"Maybe you could stay here, JD." Buck had suggested. Vin suspected the older man didn't want the kid around Larabee in his current frame of mind.
"It's my job." The young sheriff had responded. Casey started to protest. JD turned to her. "We're after the men who did this. I want to make sure they don't come back." Nettie pulled Casey away. She would talk with her later. To Nettie's way of thinking, a woman shouldn't pull a man from his responsibility.
"We'll take good care of Pal here, Mr. Wilmington." Nettie said to change the subject. "We'll see she gets to town when she's better and shuffle the animals around later." She took up the reins of Buck's horse and handed them to Casey.
"Thank you, Ma'am." Buck mounted the horse Nettie loaned him and readied to ride out.
Vin thought back on the events. The emotions rode along with them now. He looked over at Chris. At least it seemed his best friend was mellowing. And Buck, well, Buck was Buck. He'd come around with just a little time. But for now the bushwhackers were still out there. And Larabee made sure none of his men patrolled alone. Not the shadowy night streets of Four Corners, not the isolated ranches, not the desert-chilled open spaces.
The seven rode together, tense, trying not to choose sides. They finally crested the slight rise. The sight that greeted them was a surprise even though it was what - more than what - they had hoped to find.
Two men had just dumped a corpse and were making their way out of the deeply carved creek bed.
Impulsively, Buck spurred his horse forward. "Buck!" JD was with him like he was a part of him. Chris gritted his teeth as he spurred forward, following the others in to back up their reckless friend.
Buck rushed his horse to meet his opponents on the gradually sloping near bank of the creek. The far side of the creek, a ten-foot high craggy rock face of limestone and granite slab, had been carved by flash floods down through the ages. A man could climb the cliff, but it was too steep for a horse.
The two cowboys sat their mounts and awaited Buck's approach. Vin noticed they didn't appear nervous. With retreat blocked by the cliff and the law in front, they should... he cut his eyes toward his best friend as their horses matched pace down the slope. They came to the same conclusion at the same time.
"Buck!" Chris bellowed, "Ambush!"