25. After Images
You could have heard a pin drop in the saloon. Hostile looks were turned towards the two men. "He's lying," Stanford scoffed and Melborn agreed. "You're going to believe this scruffy, uneducated ruffian over us. I have credentials, why Mary Travis investigated me thoroughly before hiring me."
Buck rabbit punched Vin as the tracker darted towards Stanford. "Dammit, Vin, I didn't want to have to do that," Buck sighed.
"I want him jailed immediately he's insane," Melborn's voice quivered.
"Chris?" Buck looked towards the balcony.
"It'll be safer for him," Chris growled, "be sure and have Nate look him over." The saloon was quite as Buck carried the limp tracker out
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"If Vin Tanner says it is, then it's the truth," Tiny growled from where he was standing at the bar.
"Vin doesn't lie," JW agreed looking sick.
"These gentlemen have recommendations. What do we really know about Tanner?" Conklin sneered.
"I know he almost died bringing in those bank robbers," Yosemite spoke up.
"Seems to me you had money in the bank too didn't you Conklin?" Virgil Watson from the hardware store asked quietly. "You'd probably be out of business if that money hadn't been recovered. He helped me out for weeks after I broke my leg," Virgil continued. "More than I ever got out of some 'friends' I've known better than ten years isn't it."
"He could have been killed pulling that baby out from in front of Mrs. Travis' buggy," a miner reminded.
"I've seen him sweeping and carrying for Mrs. Potter," another man spoke up.
"Vin Tanner's quick to offer a hand and he's a hell of a lot of help to folks around here," Tiny rumbled.
"Mr. Stanford has recommendations and references," Conklin reminded.
"Which are quite easy to acquire," Ezra sniffed. "By this time tomorrow I could have papers proving that you are president of the United Nations," Ezra drawled.
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"Easy, Junior," Buck soothed. Vin had started attacking the bars to his cell as soon as he had woke. "Calm down now," Buck ordered.
"What's the problem, brother?" Isaiah stuck his head through the jail door.
"Could you get Chris? Vin's acting plumb loco," Buck asked worriedly.
"Why's the boy in a cell, Buck?" Isaiah voice held anger.
"He was gonna gut the new school master," Buck sighed.
"WHAT?" Isaiah bellowed in disbelief. He stalked over to the cell. "Easy, little brother, talk to me. What's going on?" Isaiah's voice dropped into a calming purr. The mindless slamming at the bars finally came to a halt.
"'Saiah?" Vin's voice was childlike.
"Yes, little brother, tell me about it," Isaiah coaxed.
"They hurted," Vin whispered.
"Who hurt you?" Isaiah gently stroked the fingers now locked around the bars.
"Stanford and Melborn," Vin muttered. "They hurted tha childer," Vin whispered in a choked voice.
"What children?" Buck asked softly.
"Red Butte, they's from tha orphanage there," Vin looked over at Buck. "Weren't hardly more'n babies. Why'd they do that Buck?" Vin asked in bewilderment. "Why didn't I 'member it 'till now?"
"How many children, Vin?" Isaiah touched the white knuckled hands.
"Nine," Vin's eyes held agony.
"How did the children die, Junior?" Buck coaxed.
"They beat 'em, they cut 'em and they took 'em, then they buried 'em," Vin said without emotion.
"You said they were still alive," Buck's voice was shaky.
"They was, I could hear'em trying ta dig out," Vin sank to the floor. Isaiah followed him down reaching through the bars he slid Vin as close as possible and rubbed the trembling back.
"Dear God," Isaiah whispered in horror looking up at the white faced Wilmington.
"Buck, get Chris, I'm going to stay here with Vin," Isaiah choked. Buck nodded and left.
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"Son, talk to me," Isaiah crooned.
"I'se that thing," Vin rocked himself in misery.
"What thing, Vin?" Isaiah tried to calm the shaking man.
"'Bomination, liken yah said," Vin raised tortured eyes.
"Oh, Son, I was so wrong," Isaiah reached through the bars. Gentle hands cradled the bent head. "You've got the purest soul I've ever known," Isaiah breathed.
"Ain't nothin' pure about me preacher," Vin pulled away. "I been took six ways ta Sunday. Been traded fer a bottle a rotgut whiskey too many times ta even remember. Hell I ain't even people," Vin's voice rose.
"There is no sin on your soul due to that," Isaiah held out a open hand.
"I ain't people, I got no soul," Vin's voice was flat.
"I was so very, very wrong. For that I need beg your forgiveness," Isaiah offered his hands.
"Fergiveness?" Vin raised confused eyes.
"I am a shepherd, Devin Tanner. I almost cast away one of the good Lord's finest lambs through my prejudice. For that I ask your forgiveness," Isaiah held still.
Vin's eyes widened and a wondering look worked it's way into his eyes. "Yah think I gotta soul," Vin breathed in amazement.
"Of course you do. Anyone spending more than five minutes with you could tell you that," Isaiah choked out.
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"Now then how do you want to handle these monsters?" Isaiah asked softly.
"Be best iffen yah let me kill 'em," Vin breathed.
"I can't let you do that, little brother," Isaiah gently shook the slender man.
"I figure Red Butte weren't tha' first time they done such. Rekin they'll keep on doing such till they's stopped," Vin hissed.
"I won't let you hang for killing them," Isaiah growled.
"Somethin's is worth dying for, 'Saiah," Vin smiled softly.
"That they are, but there's more than you to think on here son," Isaiah reminded. "You'd hurt an awful lot of people".
"Chris," Vin whispered.
"Him the worst. It would break this old heart too," Isaiah admitted..
"Help me figure another way then. Never had nobody ta worry on me 'fore now," Vin held out a hand.
"That I can do," Isaiah opened the cell door and pulled the slender man into his big arms in a warm hug.
"'Saiah, been wonderin' on somethin'?" Vin muttered.
"What's that Vin?" Isaiah coaxed.
"Seems ta me you and God ain't always on the best a terms," Vin offered hesitantly.
"Seems to me your right," Isaiah sighed. "I see injustice, the evil that lives in this world and I get angry."
"Didn't yah talk Sunday on free will?" Vin asked softly.
"That I did," Isaiah looked over at the tracker.
"That means folks make choices good or bad but they make 'em ain't that right?" Vin asked.
"That they do," Isaiah growled.
"You figure God's ta blame fer bad decisions?" Vin asked in bewilderment.
"Of course...not," Isaiah spluttered a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Vin Tanner I have a feeling that Jesus has been sitting by your fire for along time. From what I saw on that ledge your old friends," Isaiah laughed.
"Huh, well I showed mighty poor manners ought ta have at least offered him a cup a coffee," Vin said in a shaky voice.