"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, your sins are
forgiven. Go in the light of God."
Chapel made the sign of the cross along with the woman that knelt before him. He stood before the altar of one of Santa Fe's many churches. Knives stretched out on the first row of pews, watching the clergyman go about his duties, a string of white prayer beads loosely wrapped about his left hand, and a beaten up cowboy hat on his head. He had come to this church to aid the current Priest that resided there for a day or two, before he massacred them all, with help from Knives of course. Knives clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Where is he?" Knives groaned.
"Legato was supposed to meet us here after he was done getting my brother to not kill him! Where could he be?" Chapel shrugged.
"Perhaps Vash has sinned." Knives rolled his head to look at his companion. "Vash? Kill? Don't make me laugh."
"Men and morals are always in danger of..."
"Can it, church man. If I wanted a sermon I would have stayed with Vash." "Well, he is his brother's keeper."
The click of the hammer pulling back on Knives' revolver was not lost on Chapel. He said nothing more on the subject. Knives returned the gun to it's holster at his waist. He took the hat off his head and looked at it for a moment. Then, he seemed to remember something important. He sat up with a start. "Oh, did I tell you how I got this hat?" "No." replied Chapel, not turning around or so much as raising his head. "Some cowboy came through the other day and said he's fought my brother, but wanted to kill me."
"So you killed him and took his hat."
Chapel sounded almost disappointed. Knives nodded with a grin.
"He said Vash is in Cimarron."
Chapel looked back over his shoulder.
"Oh really?" "I want you to ride out and sniff around. Try and find Legato. If Vash is alive and sane, Legato hasn't done anything yet, and I want to know why."
Chapel nodded. "After I finish my duties here."
Knives shrugged.
"Suits me fine. I'm going to go lay up at the saloon for a few days. I think the regular priest is gonna' throw me out once you're gone."
"Why don't you just kill him?"
"Tempting, but then people start lookin' for him, and I have to kill them. Then more people look for them. I don't have enough bullets to kill all of Santa Fe."
"We need to find more bullets."
"Later, John, later. Wait until we're done with Vash. Once he's dead, we'll murder everyone from here to Los Angeles, hell, the entire damn West, and there'll be no one to slow us down."
They had agreed to ride out from Cimarron that day, Meryl remembered. She hung on tightly to Vash's arm as it curled around her waist, his face nuzzling into her hair, the rhythm of his breathing. Sunlight streamed in through the window. Slowly, she worked her way out of the bed, careful not to wake Vash. She changed from her nightshirt into her day clothes, and left the saloon.
A dark figure appeared on the horizon, walking towards town. He wore a simple black priest's coat, over which one usually found a voluminous white sheet or robe, that clung tightly to his chest and arms, and was buttoned up to his neck, where a high collar rose on his throat. On his head was a black bowler hat and over his eyes were a pair of dark glasses. Strapped across his back was a large cross. He walked with one white-gloved hand in his pocket, another holding the strap by which he carried his cross. Waterskins were slung around his neck, and a bag hung from his waist that most likely carried food. Meryl shaded the sun with one hand. She felt that she might as well welcome this new fellow to the town, even though they had only spent a few weeks there to recover from their near-death under the desert sun. She waited by the well as he approached. Once he was a few yards away, he tipped his hat to her, then dropped his bag into the dirt, dropping the waterskins on top of it.
"Good day, ma'am."
"Hello, stranger. Welcome to Cimarron."
He nodded and winched up the well bucket, drinking deeply from it. When it was empty, he dropped it back down, and chuckled to himself.
"The light of God quenches my thirst and fills my belly, but water is still nice when I get into town."
Vash stretched as he sat up in bed, and pulled his coat on over his pajamas. Pulling on his boots, he walked out of the room and towards the saloon exit.
He turned to look at her.
"Say, you wouldn't know where I could find a man by the name of Vash, would you? I've been sent by his brother."
Vash had a brother? Meryl was surprised to hear that.
"Why, sure. He's inside the saloon there..."
Vash chose that moment to stride out the batwing doors. He stopped dead as they closed behind him. Chapel swore as he saw Vash. He flicked the release on his cross, the two rifles separating and falling neatly into his hands.
"What the..." Meryl started. "Meryl! Get down!" Moving with lightening speed, Chapel whirled Meryl around and pulled her close, using her as a human shield. He jammed the left gun into Meryl's chin, and pointed the other in Vash's general direction. Vash drew and leveled his gun at them both. "I suggest you turn around and walk back into that saloon, Vash, before I kill this woman and this entire town. I'm not here to fight you."
Vash's gunsights drew a neat bead on Chapel's left hand. He couldn't shoot Meryl without a trigger finger. "Drop the gun, Vash. I will kill her, if you try anything." Vash swore. It was too risky. He would have to disarm Chapel completely to keep Meryl safe, but two shots might come too slowly. He raised his gun, pointing it away from Chapel. His arms slowly moved into the air. "That's right. Now drop it." Chapel said, sweat beading on his brow. Vash's gun dropped to the dirt.
"Kick it away."
It bounced a good ten feet out of reach. "Now you're unarmed! Maybe I will kill everyone after all!" "Vash! Help!" Meryl's eyes welled up in fear. "Meryl..." Vash whispered to himself. "And she means so much to you, it seems! Why, think of the suffering it would cause if I were to..."
"Stop!" Vash yelled, and took a step forward.
"The Lord shows no mercy to those that oppose his will. Perhaps I won't kill her... If your life pays the forfeit."
"No!" Meryl yelled.
Vash began to walk towards Chapel. Chapel began to sweat again. If Vash got too close, he would easily be able to disarm him, but if he killed the woman, he would lose his last reason to keep from fighting Vash. Vash might even kill him. He swallowed. "No. I can't allow either of those to happen..." "Freeze! No sudden moves, there, Vash the Stampede, or your lover will join the Father in Heaven."
Vash stopped. Chapel made up his mind. He fired a round. Vash cried out and clutched his leg, falling over in the dirt. Meryl cried his name. "Now, I think I'll kill you."
Bang. Chapel's grip on Meryl loosened for a moment, then went completely slack, the guns dropping from his hands. She ran to Vash's side, helping him to his feet and helping him walk. The town sheriff stood on the porch of his office, a smoking pistol in one hand, to match the smoking hole in the back of Chapel's head.
Vash lay on the doctor's cot, biting on a bullet and wincing as the surgeon dug through his leg, searching for the second bullet lodged within. Meryl sat in a chair in the front room, listening. She couldn't look. Vash had almost died today, because of her. He's had to kill a man, because of her. So far, she hadn't done anything but cause him trouble. Guilt wracked her heart as she listened to Vash's moans, and she put her head in her hands, the palms grinding into her eyes, tears dripping from them and rolling down her wrists. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand to hear him in this much pain...
After his leg was bandaged up, she walked to the chair next to the cot and sat down. Sunlight streamed in a single window, but otherwise the room was dark. The doctor had stepped out on a house call, and they were alone. "What did he say?"
"He says I won't be able to walk for a few days, and that it really wasn't that bad. It didn't hit anything major. I'll be all right."
"Vash... I'm so sorry."
He smiled.
"It's O.K., really." The guilt returned, along with the tears. "No, Vash, it's not. You almost died today, because of me. All I've done, ever since we started crossing the desert, is hurt you. Maybe not directly, but it's what I've done. It was because of me that you had to Legato, and it was because of me that you're here right now!" Even now, she could see Vash remember that, and the pain it caused him, even though he tried to hide it.
"Meryl, what do mean? It's not..."
She cut him off.
"I'm riding back to Louisiana."
There was silence in the room for a moment.
"Meryl, you can't..."
"I can't see you get hurt anymore!" "But, still, that doesn't mean you have to leave!" She was crying harder. She stood up, and ran out the door.
"Meryl, wait! Meryl!"
She slammed the door behind her. Inside, she heard a noise that hurt her even more than hearing his moans of pain earlier. Vash the Stampede was crying.
Vash couldn't leave the bed to say goodbye to her, or follow her, or convince her to stay, and Meryl felt that that was best. Silently, she saddled up her horse, filled her waterskins, and rode out of Cimarron, back the way she had come.
A few days passed. She knew what was ahead of her, the empty city, now probably half-buried in sand. She hadn't reached it yet, but dreaded passing through. Legato's corpse was still unburied, and she didn't want to see it as she rode by. The day was just like any other, the desert sun beating down on her, rocks and scrubgrass passing her by as she rode. Then, she saw the most unusual thing. A figure stood on the horizon. As she got closer, she could see that it was a man with no horse, simply walking across the desert heat. Who could do that, though? Closer, and began to see the details of the man. He carried no supplies, no food or water. She shaded her eyes with the palm of her hand to get a better look. "No. That's impossible..."
Vash sat outside the surgeon's office, watching the town go about it's business. He could walk now, but not too far. It would still be another day or two before he could ride. He thought about Meryl constantly for the past few days, his grief nearly consuming him. He swore to himself, after this was all over, he would go back for her. But first, he needed to go to Santa Fe. Everything was going to end in Santa Fe.
Chapel made the sign of the cross along with the woman that knelt before him. He stood before the altar of one of Santa Fe's many churches. Knives stretched out on the first row of pews, watching the clergyman go about his duties, a string of white prayer beads loosely wrapped about his left hand, and a beaten up cowboy hat on his head. He had come to this church to aid the current Priest that resided there for a day or two, before he massacred them all, with help from Knives of course. Knives clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Where is he?" Knives groaned.
"Legato was supposed to meet us here after he was done getting my brother to not kill him! Where could he be?" Chapel shrugged.
"Perhaps Vash has sinned." Knives rolled his head to look at his companion. "Vash? Kill? Don't make me laugh."
"Men and morals are always in danger of..."
"Can it, church man. If I wanted a sermon I would have stayed with Vash." "Well, he is his brother's keeper."
The click of the hammer pulling back on Knives' revolver was not lost on Chapel. He said nothing more on the subject. Knives returned the gun to it's holster at his waist. He took the hat off his head and looked at it for a moment. Then, he seemed to remember something important. He sat up with a start. "Oh, did I tell you how I got this hat?" "No." replied Chapel, not turning around or so much as raising his head. "Some cowboy came through the other day and said he's fought my brother, but wanted to kill me."
"So you killed him and took his hat."
Chapel sounded almost disappointed. Knives nodded with a grin.
"He said Vash is in Cimarron."
Chapel looked back over his shoulder.
"Oh really?" "I want you to ride out and sniff around. Try and find Legato. If Vash is alive and sane, Legato hasn't done anything yet, and I want to know why."
Chapel nodded. "After I finish my duties here."
Knives shrugged.
"Suits me fine. I'm going to go lay up at the saloon for a few days. I think the regular priest is gonna' throw me out once you're gone."
"Why don't you just kill him?"
"Tempting, but then people start lookin' for him, and I have to kill them. Then more people look for them. I don't have enough bullets to kill all of Santa Fe."
"We need to find more bullets."
"Later, John, later. Wait until we're done with Vash. Once he's dead, we'll murder everyone from here to Los Angeles, hell, the entire damn West, and there'll be no one to slow us down."
They had agreed to ride out from Cimarron that day, Meryl remembered. She hung on tightly to Vash's arm as it curled around her waist, his face nuzzling into her hair, the rhythm of his breathing. Sunlight streamed in through the window. Slowly, she worked her way out of the bed, careful not to wake Vash. She changed from her nightshirt into her day clothes, and left the saloon.
A dark figure appeared on the horizon, walking towards town. He wore a simple black priest's coat, over which one usually found a voluminous white sheet or robe, that clung tightly to his chest and arms, and was buttoned up to his neck, where a high collar rose on his throat. On his head was a black bowler hat and over his eyes were a pair of dark glasses. Strapped across his back was a large cross. He walked with one white-gloved hand in his pocket, another holding the strap by which he carried his cross. Waterskins were slung around his neck, and a bag hung from his waist that most likely carried food. Meryl shaded the sun with one hand. She felt that she might as well welcome this new fellow to the town, even though they had only spent a few weeks there to recover from their near-death under the desert sun. She waited by the well as he approached. Once he was a few yards away, he tipped his hat to her, then dropped his bag into the dirt, dropping the waterskins on top of it.
"Good day, ma'am."
"Hello, stranger. Welcome to Cimarron."
He nodded and winched up the well bucket, drinking deeply from it. When it was empty, he dropped it back down, and chuckled to himself.
"The light of God quenches my thirst and fills my belly, but water is still nice when I get into town."
Vash stretched as he sat up in bed, and pulled his coat on over his pajamas. Pulling on his boots, he walked out of the room and towards the saloon exit.
He turned to look at her.
"Say, you wouldn't know where I could find a man by the name of Vash, would you? I've been sent by his brother."
Vash had a brother? Meryl was surprised to hear that.
"Why, sure. He's inside the saloon there..."
Vash chose that moment to stride out the batwing doors. He stopped dead as they closed behind him. Chapel swore as he saw Vash. He flicked the release on his cross, the two rifles separating and falling neatly into his hands.
"What the..." Meryl started. "Meryl! Get down!" Moving with lightening speed, Chapel whirled Meryl around and pulled her close, using her as a human shield. He jammed the left gun into Meryl's chin, and pointed the other in Vash's general direction. Vash drew and leveled his gun at them both. "I suggest you turn around and walk back into that saloon, Vash, before I kill this woman and this entire town. I'm not here to fight you."
Vash's gunsights drew a neat bead on Chapel's left hand. He couldn't shoot Meryl without a trigger finger. "Drop the gun, Vash. I will kill her, if you try anything." Vash swore. It was too risky. He would have to disarm Chapel completely to keep Meryl safe, but two shots might come too slowly. He raised his gun, pointing it away from Chapel. His arms slowly moved into the air. "That's right. Now drop it." Chapel said, sweat beading on his brow. Vash's gun dropped to the dirt.
"Kick it away."
It bounced a good ten feet out of reach. "Now you're unarmed! Maybe I will kill everyone after all!" "Vash! Help!" Meryl's eyes welled up in fear. "Meryl..." Vash whispered to himself. "And she means so much to you, it seems! Why, think of the suffering it would cause if I were to..."
"Stop!" Vash yelled, and took a step forward.
"The Lord shows no mercy to those that oppose his will. Perhaps I won't kill her... If your life pays the forfeit."
"No!" Meryl yelled.
Vash began to walk towards Chapel. Chapel began to sweat again. If Vash got too close, he would easily be able to disarm him, but if he killed the woman, he would lose his last reason to keep from fighting Vash. Vash might even kill him. He swallowed. "No. I can't allow either of those to happen..." "Freeze! No sudden moves, there, Vash the Stampede, or your lover will join the Father in Heaven."
Vash stopped. Chapel made up his mind. He fired a round. Vash cried out and clutched his leg, falling over in the dirt. Meryl cried his name. "Now, I think I'll kill you."
Bang. Chapel's grip on Meryl loosened for a moment, then went completely slack, the guns dropping from his hands. She ran to Vash's side, helping him to his feet and helping him walk. The town sheriff stood on the porch of his office, a smoking pistol in one hand, to match the smoking hole in the back of Chapel's head.
Vash lay on the doctor's cot, biting on a bullet and wincing as the surgeon dug through his leg, searching for the second bullet lodged within. Meryl sat in a chair in the front room, listening. She couldn't look. Vash had almost died today, because of her. He's had to kill a man, because of her. So far, she hadn't done anything but cause him trouble. Guilt wracked her heart as she listened to Vash's moans, and she put her head in her hands, the palms grinding into her eyes, tears dripping from them and rolling down her wrists. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand to hear him in this much pain...
After his leg was bandaged up, she walked to the chair next to the cot and sat down. Sunlight streamed in a single window, but otherwise the room was dark. The doctor had stepped out on a house call, and they were alone. "What did he say?"
"He says I won't be able to walk for a few days, and that it really wasn't that bad. It didn't hit anything major. I'll be all right."
"Vash... I'm so sorry."
He smiled.
"It's O.K., really." The guilt returned, along with the tears. "No, Vash, it's not. You almost died today, because of me. All I've done, ever since we started crossing the desert, is hurt you. Maybe not directly, but it's what I've done. It was because of me that you had to Legato, and it was because of me that you're here right now!" Even now, she could see Vash remember that, and the pain it caused him, even though he tried to hide it.
"Meryl, what do mean? It's not..."
She cut him off.
"I'm riding back to Louisiana."
There was silence in the room for a moment.
"Meryl, you can't..."
"I can't see you get hurt anymore!" "But, still, that doesn't mean you have to leave!" She was crying harder. She stood up, and ran out the door.
"Meryl, wait! Meryl!"
She slammed the door behind her. Inside, she heard a noise that hurt her even more than hearing his moans of pain earlier. Vash the Stampede was crying.
Vash couldn't leave the bed to say goodbye to her, or follow her, or convince her to stay, and Meryl felt that that was best. Silently, she saddled up her horse, filled her waterskins, and rode out of Cimarron, back the way she had come.
A few days passed. She knew what was ahead of her, the empty city, now probably half-buried in sand. She hadn't reached it yet, but dreaded passing through. Legato's corpse was still unburied, and she didn't want to see it as she rode by. The day was just like any other, the desert sun beating down on her, rocks and scrubgrass passing her by as she rode. Then, she saw the most unusual thing. A figure stood on the horizon. As she got closer, she could see that it was a man with no horse, simply walking across the desert heat. Who could do that, though? Closer, and began to see the details of the man. He carried no supplies, no food or water. She shaded her eyes with the palm of her hand to get a better look. "No. That's impossible..."
Vash sat outside the surgeon's office, watching the town go about it's business. He could walk now, but not too far. It would still be another day or two before he could ride. He thought about Meryl constantly for the past few days, his grief nearly consuming him. He swore to himself, after this was all over, he would go back for her. But first, he needed to go to Santa Fe. Everything was going to end in Santa Fe.
