CHAPTER SEVEN: BROTHERS UNAWARE

Although gunfights were not alien to the towns and cities on Gunsmoke, mention of the name "Vash the Stampede" held the imaginations of residents of March. No sooner had the awning fallen upon a gunman, witnesses rushed to tell others of the event they had witnessed. 'Think of it – mankind's first official Human Disaster – in our city! We'd be doomed!' they worried. But red coat and gun or no, few believed that the true Vash could be this simpleton. 'Vash the Stampede, the dangerous and perfectly evil gunman, working a lowly job and allowing children to wrestle him? Surely not!'

Leading gossip took Vanessa's comment to heart – that the coat and gun had been found in the desert. But she didn't seem the type to pull such items from a corpse. They hypothesized that this proved that the real Vash had not died, but rather had chosen to change his identity. 'He could be a brunette now, maybe disfigured in the face. Dang, he could be in this very town, and we don't know it!' people reckoned.

Before the sun set that day, residents of March had become a touch more paranoid, abuzz with excitement and suspicious of the strangers around them.

Vanessa stepped into the angry man's hospital room warily, sighing relief that the blow to his head had caused only a minor concussion.

She had come at Vash's request. "Make sure he's okay," he had asked her. "And could you try to get a feel from the citizens? If they believed him, we can't stay," he added sadly.

Minutes after silencing his accuser, Vash had grown serious and insisted that they leave March as soon as possible, before more guns aimed his way. But Vanessa argued against this idea, pointing out that running so soon would be proof of his guilt.

The man's eyes cracked open, and he tensed against the bonds holding him to his bed. "Bitch," he whispered, weary from pain medication.

"Hey, now, watch your mouth," the sheriff called from behind her. He was not the only other person present – several medical personnel and citizens stood watch. They had followed Vanessa to the man's room, wondering why she would be here and what she would say.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him sweetly, stepping close to the foot of the bed. She skimmed the patient's record clipboard there, and found his name: Chris Rollins. "Mr. Rollins, we got off on the wrong foot, didn't we?" she said sweetly, sitting at his bedside.

"What do you want? Come to finish me off for that friend of yours?" he sneered.

Vanessa frowned. "He's not the Vash you're looking for," she lied. "The Vash you shot at today is a kind, sweet guy – he's not the type to hurt anyone. There's no way he could've destroyed July."

Chris stared up at the ceiling, unyielding. "Somehow, he did. I don't care how. I care about the dead."

"Someone IS responsible for that, but it's not Vash. I mean, the Vash I've been traveling with," she replied. "First off, the incident was over 20 years ago, and he's not much older than that. Surely you don't think a toddler caused that explosion?"

The man snorted in reply.

"He may look the part of the outlaw to you," she continued, unfazed, "but you don't know him. He's so upset from today that he wants to pack up and leave. And though that may be logical to him, I'd hate to have to leave such a nice city so soon, and for such an untrue accusation." She sighed softly and chose to follow rumors. Turning her gaze to her knees to hide the lies, she adopted a sad tone. "I've been trying to teach him courage, and you've ruined it. I want him to be a man and stand his ground, but he's scared as a little kid."

Tears began to run down the man's cheeks. He shut his eyes. "A mistake? All these years…and I've become…" he muttered bitterly.

She touched his hand tenderly. "Forget the past…live a life…Try to show yourself some happiness before your time ends," she suggested softly, feeling a twinge of hypocrisy from the last bit of advice. "Whoever this Vash the Stampede is, he isn't worth your time." She smiled, and leaned closer to whisper privately. "We forgive you, and I'll be sure no charges are brought against you when you've healed, okay?"

Chris's lips pursed with emotion. He nodded slowly. "Thank you," he muttered.

Vanessa busied herself to unfasten the tight cuffs holding him to his bed, rubbing the sore wrists and ankles as she went.

Those in the room stood in amazement, slowly dissipating. They were almost saddened by the lack of drama.

Vash wiped away a bitter tear as he stared at his pack on the table. All his belongings were buckled in, and his boots were fastened. At the drop of a hat, he was ready to race into the desert, with or without his brother and Vanessa. He would prefer with. 'Why does it always happen, once I've found a calm place?' he thought with a whimper.

Hearing bare feet upon the floor outside, Vash peeked out of his door cautiously. Vanessa stood smiling. "We can stay. Relax."

"I want to go to dinner now," Knives grumbled further down the hall.

The sigh of relief Vash was bound to release caught in the back of his throat. Even if the humans weren't going to be his trouble, Knives certainly would be.

NEXT SECTION:  http://hometown.aol.com/artchick12/brothersunaware2.html

HOMEPAGE:  http://hometown.aol.com/artchick12/myhomepage/index.html