Chris struggled but managed to finally rise to his feet. Stumbling to where Cadence had fallen, he saw the blood that had blossomed on the white shirt like a death's rose on her breast. Falling to his knees, he clasped her to his chest as the others, Magnificent Seven and Nichols brothers alike, rode up to the cabin with guns drawn and at the ready.
Ignoring the immediate danger of turning his back on a Nichols, Buck Wilmington threw himself from his saddle and ran to his friend's side, disregarding completely the prone body of Henry Oliver, bullet hole in his head, dead eyes wide open in surprise.
"Chris!" Buck grasped his friend's shoulder and bent his head to look into Chris' face. The ladies man just squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. It was there, in his eyes, the same look his lifelong friend had the day he found out that Sarah and Adam were dead.
Dismounting, John Nichols holstered his .45 and strode over to the pair, his face ashen as he looked at the body of his beloved sister. He noted the battered continence of the gunman and heard his breath rasping noisily. For a moment, John thought the man would topple over Larabee he stayed upright and held on tightly to his sister's lifeless body. He then looked to the body of Henry Oliver and wondered just what had happened.
Nathan grabbed his medical kit and ran from his horse to kneel beside Chris. He checked Cadence Nichols for a pulse and, finding none, shook his head. He reached out to check the gash on Chris's head. The gunfighter hissed as the healer's fingers probed the torn and bruised flesh but he let the healer wipe away some of the blood that now only seeped from the wound.
Squatting before the two of them, John looked down at his sister and softly but firmly told Chris, "We'll be taking her home with us now, and added as an aside, "This will kill Ma."
Chris stared at the man before him for a long moment and suggested hotly, "You tell her it was God's vengeance!"
John flinched at the words. He knew exactly to what the gunman referred.
Peter Nichols come to stand before Henry Oliver. He stooped over to check the body of the man who was to be his brother-in-law and, confirming the fact that he was dead, stood up and turned to Ezra. "Do what you want with him," he told the gambler.
John waited patiently as Buck finally eased Chris' hold on the girl and helped pass her body into his waiting arms. He walked slowly to where the horses stood, Matthew and Luke Nichols again astride their horses. Holstering his gun, Matthew took Cadence gently into his arms while Luke bowed his head and made the sign of the cross. Tears sparkled in Matt's eyes as he reached out to brush his sister's hair gently back from her forehead.
"You're truly a free spirit now, Cady," he said turning his horse slowly to wait for the rest to mount up.
The silent and mournful procession started to head back to town when suddenly one horse broke formation and twisted back around as John Nichols walked his large roan back to where Chris Larabee knelt. Ignoring the guns that had been redrawn to point directly at him, he looked down expectantly.
Chris looked up at the mounted rider and said, "She saved my life."
John replied, "I would expect nothing less from Cady…but was she happy?"
After a long moment Chris nodded. "I was, too," he replied honestly and, surprised at the realization, a wistful and sad smile playing across his pale lips for a moment as he thought back on their last few days.
Convinced his sister had been in good hands and happy in her last hours, John nodded and turned his horse to follow after the others.
In less than an hour, three of the four Nichols brothers stood outside the telegraph office ready for trouble should it come their way. They stood in closed ranks on the boardwalk as more and more of the townsfolk, suddenly finding reason to be walking down the street, passed them.
John Nichols, his mouth set in a grim line, the expected but all the same startling telegram crushed in his hand, walked slowly from the telegraph office. His brothers crowded around him to hear what the matriarch of the Nichols clan now expected of them as he read aloud.
"My Lambs - Do nothing – stop – Arriving in three days – stop – Will bury my daughter in the cesspit next to the whore monger who turned her away from God and family – stop - A fitting resting place for a harlot – stop - Ma."
Peter Nichols' darkly handsome face became white with shock then red with anger and he wondered how his sainted mother could she be so cruel. Cady was their flesh and blood, their mother's only daughter. She should be brought home to the family plot, buried next to Da and her beloved brothers. To a man they all loved Cady dearly but, cruel or no, they would not, could not, go against their mother's wishes.
The brothers remained silent until Luke finally asked the loaded question. "We're to be goin' after Larabee, then?"
"Not yet. We wait 'til Ma gets here," John said and angrily elbowed his way through his brothers.
The undertaker had just about finished nailing the coffin lid on tightly for the Nichols woman's final trip back to Kansas City when John and the others strode in. Digging a five dollar gold piece from his vest pocket he tossed it atop the coffin. "There's been a change of plans. My sister will be buried here. Dig me two graves, undertaker. Two graves," John repeated coldly. He turned on his heel and left as quickly as he'd come.
Backing away, the undertaker stared at the brothers. Business had been brisk the last time they had come to town and it looked to be picking up again.