Descent into Darkness
by Kathy
Vin sat outside the jail, scanning the street and taking in the ordinary quiet of the bright May afternoon. The dry heat was already making him a bit sleepy. He looked down near his feet, watching a small lizard crawling across the boardwalk to the dusty street until it disappeared from view.
"Excuse me."
Vin looked up, startled. A petite blonde woman stood nearby, smiling at him. She was holding a small, dusty carpetbag with a bent clasp. A beaded handbag dangled from her wrist. He quickly got to his feet.
"Ma'am."
She set down the bag and pointed across the street. "I just got off that stage over there, and I was wondering if you could point out the constable?"
Vin adjusted his jacket a little. She was pretty and, for some reason, it made him just a bit fidgety. "I guess that'd be me."
"Oh," she said in mild surprise.
"Well, the town ain't got no real--," he said, feeling a bit flustered under her intense green eyes. "Uh, Vin Tanner's the name. How can I help you?"
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Tanner." Her voice was soft and her smile widened as she moved closer to him. "I'm called Priscilla. My father died recently in this town and he left a considerable amount of money in the bank."
She was near enough now that Vin could distinctly smell the scent of flowers in her hair. It was a heady smell that made him slightly dizzy.
"Your father? Asa Moore? You're his daughter?"
"You sound surprised," she arched an eyebrow, touching his arm. Vin glanced down at the gloved hand near his elbow. He didn't see many ladies in this town wear gloves. Or even hats, like this woman was wearing.
He shrugged. "Just didn't know ol' Asa had any kin. Or any money."
"Well, that's why I'm here. May I call you 'Vin'?" Her warm breath tickled his ear as she continued. "You see, it's quite a lot of money. I'm sure you know how frugal he was."
Vin nodded, smiling.
"And, well, I just wouldn't feel safe carrying it on my person in a strange town." She squeezed his arm, as she looked intently into his eyes. "Would you be so kind as to escort me when I get the money and see me off safely on the next stage?"
Vin found himself staring transfixed at the pout of her lips. He glanced around, and caught JD's eye across the street, then looked back at Priscilla. JD could keep an eye on things.
"Yes, ma'am. Be my pleasure."
"You're certain? I'm sure you have a lot to do. And I know how important you must be to the people of this town--"
"No, ma'am, don't mind at all. But you'd best hurry," he said, as he picked up her bag and started to lead her toward the bank. "Got a new bank manager and he likes to close up prompt-like."
"Why, thank you...Vin."
------------------------------
Vin was right. The bank manager was just getting ready to close and lock the door to the bank. He barely looked up at the two as he withdrew a large ring of keys from his pocket and began to pull the door shut.
"Go 'way. We're closed."
Vin caught the door in his hand, holding it open. "Mr. Williams, I know you like to close up on time, but maybe you could help this little lady out? Her father has an account here."
Williams looked at him, peered at her over his glasses, and went back to fiddling with the keys. "I close promptly on time. Open on time. Close on time. I haven't been here long, but you should know that by now, Constable."
"I ain't a--" Vin sighed in exasperation. "Look, her father just died and she's just passin' through. She needs t' close his account. Can't ya just help her out?"
Williams started to respond when a choked sob from Priscilla stopped him. Vin awkwardly put an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder lightly as he gazed steadily at the bank manager. Williams waved a hand impatiently.
"Oh, all right! All right. But make it quick. I was just about to lock the vault."
The woman smiled as she and Vin edged past him and slipped into the empty bank. Williams looked at Vin sharply, catching his arm.
"Don't you go blabbing to people that I did this, you understand me?"
Vin nodded and set down the bag. "Obliged."
"Now, madam, how can I help you?"
"You can start by closing your mouth and opening your vault," she said coldly, pulling a gun from her reticule. She quickly turned to Vin. "Not so fast, handsome. I'd hate to disappoint your lady friend by ruinin' them looks of yours, but I will if you make me. Gun on the floor, and kick it over here." She turned back to Williams. "You. Just toss the keys--and the money--on the floor, right out here."
Williams began hastily pulling stacks of bills from the vault and threw the money into a pile on the floor between them. He looked furiously at Vin. "Very nice. I suppose you two are friends?"
Vin looked at her, his blue eyes like hardened steel. "Never seen 'er before in my life."
Williams snorted and continued his work.
"That's enough." She gestured toward the vault. "Now, get inside and sit on the floor. Hurry up!"
Vin sighed as he and Williams followed her orders. Priscilla smiled.
"Thanks, boys. You've been very accommodating to a grieving daughter." She turned to Vin. "What did you say the old coot's name was?"
"Asa," he replied tonelessly. "Asa Moore."
"Right," she said with a shrug.
The vault door swung closed on silent, well-oiled hinges, the tumblers turned, and Vin found himself and the bank manager sitting in the dark.
"This is all your fault, Tanner! You helped her! And don't think I won't do something about it! Hiring a bunch of gunfighters--criminals--to protect a town full of decent, innocent people! That Judge and his crazy notions--"
"Looks like we could be here awhile," said Vin in a dangerously low voice, "so why don't you just save it?"
Williams sat there, silently fuming. Vin took off his hat, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. Sooner or later someone would let them out. He was sure hoping it'd be sooner. He didn't want to think about the lovely Priscilla--if that was even her name--at least not until he got out of here and could wring her pretty little neck.
------------------------------
The darkened town was quiet. Most folks had gone to bed and the saloon was starting to close down for the night.
"Guess that's it," said Buck, tossing his cards onto the table.
Josiah shook his head and did the same. Nathan picked up his winnings with a smile.
"Thanks, Ezra."
Ezra shrugged good-naturedly. "You won, fair and square."
Nathan arched an eyebrow but smiled wider, as he pocketed his winnings.
Chris walked in, glanced around the room for a moment, then came directly to the table. "Anyone seen Vin tonight?"
JD looked up. "I did. But...but that was hours ago. He was with some woman."
Buck tipped his hat back and looked at him with interest. "A woman? You sure it was a woman?"
"I know what a woman looks like, Buck." He turned his attention back to Chris. "Never seen her before. He talked to her and last I saw him, they were standing in front of the bank."
"The bank?"
Without a word, the others got up and followed as Chris left the saloon in long, quick strides.
------------------------------
The street was nearly deserted and the bank was dark.
JD tried the doorknob and pushed open the unlocked door.
"Chris," he said in an urgent whisper.
Everyone drew their guns. Chris, moving quietly and slowly, led them into the bank. Everything still seemed to be quiet, almost normal, were it not for the unlocked door. Buck struck a match and lit one of the lamps on the wall. The warm glow of the lamp began to fill the room, and what they saw increased their concern for their missing friend.
"This is not a good sign," said Ezra, his boot nudging a few loose bills that lay scattered on the floor.
"Boys?" Josiah crouched for a moment, then straightened. He was holding Vin's gun.
Buck looked at it. "But where is he? Money's on the floor, but the vault's closed." He scanned the room, then nodded toward the vault. "You don't suppose he's--"
"Ezra?" asked Chris.
"Gentleman," said Ezra, "step aside and let a master practice his art." He moved past the others and went to work on the vault lock. For a moment, he paused, looked up and smiled, his gold tooth glinting in the lamplight. "I've always dreamed of doing this. But somehow, doing it legally takes some of the fun out of it."
------------------------------
Vin looked up, listening to the tumblers turn. Had 'Priscilla' come back? But then, why would she? Maybe she had decided to kill her only witnesses. He got up slowly. He could hear Williams stir nearby.
"Quiet," he said in as low a voice as he could manage and still be heard. He edged close to the vault door, groping around for something to use as a weapon. To his chagrin, nothing was handy. He waited, not realizing he was holding his breath, as the door slowly opened and Vin had to squint as the light began to filter in from a lamp.
"Mr. Tanner?"
Vin felt his stomach tighten and his face burning. Ezra's voice held a note of amusement mixed in with the incredulity.
"He all right?"
Great. Chris's voice.
"Looks like it," Buck observed, smiling.
Ezra grinned, too. "Are you gentlemen coming out of there or are you that comfortable?"
Williams shoved past Vin. "Mr. Larabee! I want him arrested!" Trembling with rage, he pointed a shaking finger at Vin.
"Arrested," Chris echoed with surprise. "For what?"
Vin looked at the floor, wishing it would just open up and swallow him right then and there.
"Why, for--for--for aiding a felony! He helped that woman rob the bank!"
Buck moved to stand beside Vin. "Was she pretty at least?"
"Shut up, Buck." He could feel the hear of his anger rising with the heat in his cheeks.
Chris turned his attention to Williams. "Look, why don't you figure out how much money she got and then describe her for us?"
"I don't know how much--" he sputtered. "And what would be the good of that? She's long gone by now! And HE helped her! I want him arrested!"
Chris regarded him calmly. "Mr. Williams, you were both in that vault. Looks to me like you both helped her."
Williams' jaw dropped. "Are you suggesting--?"
"I'm suggesting that you figure out what's missing. Vin'll give us a description since he seems to have gotten the best look at her--" Vin flushed hotly at that "--and we'll do what we can to catch her."
Willams was not pleased as he closed and locked the vault. "Fine! I'll have it sent over to the jail house in the morning." He followed them to the door and began to lock up. With one last look at Vin, he sneered, "Gunslingers. Pah!"
The seven stood outside the bank after Williams had gone.
"Any suggestions, gentlemen, as to our next course of action?" Ezra looked at them in turn. "Because if not, I'd suggest we call it a night."
"For once, I agree with Ezra," said Josiah. "Ain't nothin' we can do till it's light out."
Chris nodded. "Then we meet at the jail in the mornin'." He looked at Vin. "ALL of us. We're gonna need your description of her."
Buck smiled. "You DO remember what she looks like, right?" Vin's hands clenched into fists as his sides as he took a step towards the ladies man. "Whoa, stud, I still wanna know if she's pretty."
Ezra joined in. "Indeed, perhaps I'd have even carried the lady's loot for her!"
Vin could hear them holding back snickers and he turned on them, his anger held in check by a thin layer of restraint. He grabbed the front of Buck's shirt in his fist, his jaw set dangerously. Josiah pulled him back as Nathan quickly intervened.
"Calm down, Vin. And Buck, Ezra, you stop that. Why don't you go to bed?"
Buck straightened his shirt indignantly. "Man can't take a little joke. Maybe I will, Nathan. Find myself a nice lady friend..."
"Best check 'er for guns first, though," added JD with an amused glance at Vin.
Vin lunged but Nathan and Josiah caught him.
"That's enough," Chris said sharply. "Be at the jail house in the morning. Everybody. Got that, Vin?"
Vin's stormy eyes bore into him, a muscle flexing in his jaw. "Yeah."
------------------------------
"Where the hell is Vin? And Ezra?"
It was the third time Buck had asked that question and there was still no answer. The five remaining protectors had been waiting at the jailhouse for over an hour and either had yet to show.
At that moment, five heads turned as the door opened and Ezra walked in.
"'Bout time," said Buck.
"Well, and a good morning to you, too. And it is still morning, so I am not late."
"You seen Vin?"
"Briefly, yes. I don't think he'll be forthcoming. He didn't appear to have slept well during the night. In fact, he didn't look like he'd slept at all."
Chris looked thoughtful as he sat on the desk. "He say anything?"
"Just muttered something about going some place to think. Or maybe it was drink. He had a bottle of whiskey in his hand and he wasn't making a lot of sense."
Chris sighed. "I'd better go after 'im."
Ezra put up a hand. "He didn't say where he was going."
Chris looked at them a moment and turned to go. "Buck, you handle things here. I know where to find 'im."
------------------------------
Chris stopped to look out over the small valley outside of town. Far off, high on a hill, he could make out a seated figure. One side had a craggy, cliff-like face that overlooked the valley. He knew that spot. Knew Vin would be there. They'd been there before; the first time was when Vin told him about the bounty on his head. He'd figured Vin would come here. He'd often done the same thing himself.
He rode as close as he could, then dismounted and began to climb. The hillside was slippery from moss and dew, as Chris continued slowly and carefully up the side, toward Vin. From where he sat at the edge, Vin watched him approach, but said nothing.
Chris was finally standing next to him. He paused and studied Vin a moment. The tracker was clearly drunk and getting more drunk from the whiskey bottle in his hand.
"Thought you was comin' over t' the jail."
Vin didn't look at him. "You thought wrong." He took another pull on the whiskey bottle.
"Vin, that could've happened to any of us."
"Well, it didn't," Vin said sharply. "It happened to me! I'M the one who got rooked, I'M the one they're all laughin' at--! You think Williams is gonna forget it? He's gonna tell the whole damn town, the Judge-everybody--about how stupid Vin Tanner was!"
"You made a mistake. Folks do. Plannin' on doin' it again?" Vin glared at him darkly. "All right, then."
"Just get the hell away from me. Can't you tell I wanna be alone?"
"You can feel sorry for yourself later. Right now we need you to help us try to find her."
"Don't you get it? She's MILES from here by now!" Vin shouted hotly, staggering to his feet. "And it's my stupid fault!"
Chris took a step toward him. "Gimme the bottle and let's go--"
"NO! Get away!"
Chris took a step forward. They were at the cliff's edge when Vin lunged and shoved him as hard as he could muster.
Time slowed as Chris lost his footing on the hard, slippery ground. His arms flailed for a moment, and he seemed to hang suspended in the air for an instant, a look of shocked surprise on his face. And then he disappeared.
Vin blinked, instantly sobering. "Oh, my god," he whispered, shutting his eyes tightly. He opened them again, knelt down and looked over the edge. His breath caught in his throat and he felt like he was going to be sick.
"Chris," he said hoarsely. "CHRIIIIIS!"
Chris Larabee lay sprawled on the rocky ground, thirty feet below, not moving.
"Ohmygod, ohmygod," Vin repeated as he scrambled clumsily down the side of the hill, ignoring the cuts and scratches he accumulated during his rapid descent. Had he just killed his best friend?
The bile rose in his throat as he neared the fallen gunslinger. Chris's hat was off and blood was quickly matting the blond hair.
"Chris..." he choked.
Vin knelt beside him, fumbling for a pulse and listening for breathing. He let out a guarded sigh of relief as he found a weak but rapid pulse. Chris was alive. But for how long?
With shaking hands, he untied his bandanna and wrapped it around Chris's head as a temporary bandage. He had to get him out of here. Fast.
------------------------------
Vin held Chris's reins in one hand, urging his own horse as fast as he dared. The ride back to town seemed to take hours as he silently prayed Chris would survive it. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest as he headed straight to Nathan's.
"NATHAN!"
The door opened and Nathan came out, followed by Josiah.
"What's the--" Nathan began. On seeing Chris slumped in his saddle, a bloody cloth tied round his head, the two men hurried down the stairs to help Vin. "What happened?"
"He fell," Vin said shortly.
Between the three of them, they got Chris up the stairs and laid out on the bed. Nathan carefully removed the bandanna.
"Josiah, bring me some water and some o' them bandages over there."
Vin watched anxiously. "What can I do?"
Nathan had noticed the smell of whiskey when they brought Chris upstairs and the pungent odor still hung in the air around Vin. "Best go lay down yo'self."
Vin shook his head.
"Vin, now I got enough to do right here. If you want to help, then go get some rest. Chris'll still be here later."
"But will he be--"
Josiah put a hand on his shoulder. "Son, ain't nothin' you can do here 'sides worry. And that ain't gonna do Chris or you any good. Now why don't you go do what Nathan says."
Vin shook his head, still not taking his eyes off the unconscious man in the bed. Finally, he looked up at Josiah, pain etched in his deep, blue eyes.
"You'll come git me if anythin'--"
Josiah nodded, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly. Vin sighed, his shoulders slumping.
"I'll be back," he declared. And with that, slowly, reluctantly, he backed out of the room and headed for his wagon.
------------------------------
It was quiet and Vin was angry. Chris was laughing at him, like everyone else had laughed at him. It echoed in his ears, reverberating off the hills, until it sounded like the whole valley was jeering. Every rock and tree. All he wanted to do was wipe that smirk off his face, once for all.
He shoved with all his might. Chris's mouth opened in a silent scream of terror, and then he plummeted to earth, smashing against the rocks with a sickening thud into a thousand tiny, bloody pieces.
Vin's eyes flew open and he sat up with a start, breathing heavily, sweat dripping off his face. It was dark outside. Geezus, how long had he been asleep? He groped for his shirt. He had to know how Chris was.
He pulled his shirt on and hurried to Nathan's. It was late, he could tell. It was dark and the street was empty. Well, hell, if he woke up Nathan, so be it. He had to know if Chris was even still alive.
He hastily climbed the steps and quietly eased open the door. A single candle burned in the room. In its glow, he could make out Nathan's shadowy form asleep on a palette on the floor. But that wasn't the image that held his attention.
He could see Chris's still, slack features, pale in the candlelight, made whiter still by the bandage around his forehead. Josiah sat nearby, his head bowed, lips moving in silent prayer.
Vin stepped tentatively into the room. Josiah didn't look up as he approached. He licked his lips and took a deep breath.
"How is he?"
Josiah finished his prayer and rubbed his face. "The same." He studied Vin. "How're you holdin' up?"
Vin nodded toward the bed. "Better'n him... It's all my fault, Josiah," he said in an anguished voice. "I did this to him."
"Thought Chris fell."
"After I pushed him."
Josiah looked up at him in surprise.
"I didn't mean to," Vin added hastily. "I mean, I meant to push him, I just didn't mean for...this."
"I see. Drunk or angry?"
"Both," he sighed.
Josiah shook his head. "Bad combination."
"If he dies--"
"I don't think Nathan thinks he's gonna die."
"Wish he'd wake up, then. Wake up and cuss me out for bein' ornery. It'd be music to my ears. Or hit me. Anythin'."
"I won't lie to you, Vin. He's got a nasty head injury. Don't have to be a doctor to see that. Best any of us can do is hope and pray. So it's all up to Chris now."
Vin managed a thin smile. "And God?"
"Him, too." He studied the concerned furrow of Vin's brow. "You want to spell me awhile?" Vin nodded. "Wake Nathan if you need 'im."
"Thanks, Josiah."
Vin heard him leave. Now the only sounds in the room were the steady, almost imperceptible breathing of Chris and the light snoring of Nathan. Vin thought about what Josiah had said. 'Hope and pray.' He already held onto hope, however tenuously. And praying didn't seem like a bad idea.
He didn't rightly know what to say to God, but he'd figure it out. He had the rest of the night.
------------------------------
The next day passed so slowly that it seemed to Vin like time was standing still. Chris remained unconscious and Nathan had finally shooed Vin out of the room, promising to send for him if there was any change. He came back periodically, though, often to find one of the others there, like himself compelled by curiosity and concern. Each time he'd stayed for awhile, reluctant to leave, until Nathan's insistence forced him to once again wander around town, like a puff of dandelion on the wind.
He sat for awhile at the far end of town, as far from Nathan's as he could get. He knew the others would want to talk about what happened but he didn't want to think about that right now.
Hell, that was all he thought about.
His best friend, lying in a coma. Maybe dying, surrounded by his real friends.
:First and only best friend you ever had, and he didn't even do nothin' to you. And look how you repay him for his friendship and trust.:
Not even a friend, but more like a brother. He had told Chris about the bounty on his head not long after they'd met. He knew instinctively this was a man he could trust. And Chris had not let him down. Chris had even risked getting himself hung to save Vin's neck.
Vin shook his head. His thoughts were only making it worse, making his stomach twist in a knot. He hadn't eaten all day and he still wasn't hungry. He needed a drink but liquor was the last thing he wanted.
Vin found himself wandering aimlessly around town, alone and oblivious to anything going on around him. His thoughts remained firmly on the man he'd injured. And he wondered, as he finally bedded down for the night, if the worst was yet to come.
------------------------------
Chris groaned softly. The relentless ache knifing through his head made him nauseous. He lay completely still for a long time, then slowly opened his eyes and, without realizing it, groaned again.
"Chris?" a voice asked softly. Nathan. And he sounded relieved.
Chris squinted, trying to find him in the darkness. There was no moonlight, not even stars.
"Nathan?" His throat was dry and the gravelly whisper of his own voice surprised him. "What happened?"
"You had a bad fall. You remember any of it?"
"No. When?"
"You been out two days. Scared the beejeezus outta Vin. Got yo'self a king-size headache, too, I bet."
"Yeah," he agreed. "Why the hell's it so dark in here? What time is it?" There was a long silence. He frowned, puzzled, and began to wonder if Nathan had heard him. Or, given the lack of the light in the room, if Nathan had left. "Nath-"
Then came the reply in a quiet, somber voice.
"It's 11 AM., Chris."
"What! But it's-" Realization hit him like a punch in the chest. He sat up, ignoring the dizziness and nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, then held his hands up in front of his face, trying vainly to see them through the darkness.
"Oh, no," he murmured, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Oh, no... NO!" He took a deep breath, fighting for control even as his heart hammered in his ears and the dizziness and nausea suddenly hit him like a wave. "I can't see," he said urgently. "Nathan, I can't see..."
Nathan reached out, putting his hands on Chris's shoulders to steady him. Chris gripped his arms tightly.
"Help me," he pleaded.
Nathan swallowed hard. "I-I can't. If I was a doctor..." He let the sentence trail off. "There's nothing I can do."
------------------------------
Buck strode up the dusty street toward Nathan's. Ever since Chris's accident, he had made it a habit to come every two hours or so to see if there was any change, despite Nathan's best efforts to shoo him and Vin away. The stillness and pallor of his long-time friend frightened him. Nathan seemed to think Chris would survive, but Buck wondered how much of that was medicinal knowledge and how much was hope. It had already been two days and Chris hadn't awakened. A man couldn't stay in a coma forever. Good or bad, something had to happen.
He was at the bottom of the steps to Nathan's when an anguished cry shattered the quiet, sending him charging up the stairs two at a time.
"What the hell-" Buck began.
"Get that lamp and light it," ordered Nathan. Buck hastily lit it and handed it to Nathan. "Chris, can you see the flame?"
Chris stared hard and shook his head.
"Buck!" Chris called out. He was sitting up, breathing heavily, a look of fear on his face, eyes staring unseeingly into space. Buck turned to give Nathan a questioning look.
Nathan quickly poured some laudanum into a cup and held it to Chris's lips.
"Drink this," he prodded. "It's for your headache. Maybe it'll help your eyes, too."
Chris drank reluctantly until the cup was empty.
"Now lie down," Nathan said sternly.
Chris sat rigid, as if he hadn't heard. "Buck?" he repeated, uncertainly.
"I'm right here, Chris."
"I'm-"
"I know," he said in sad, gentle voice. He paused to take a deep breath. "Maybe…maybe things'll be a little better once you've rested some."
"Maybe," Chris said without conviction. He yawned then, lay down, and drifted off to sleep.
Buck looked uncomfortable. "I better...go tell the others. They'll wanna know."
"Need some comp'ny?"
Buck forced a wan smile. "No, thanks. I'd best go do it. Chris might wake up while you're gone..."
Nathan nodded in understanding. "Prob'bly find 'em in the saloon."
"Yeah," said Buck softly.
------------------------------
With heavy footsteps, Buck walked into the saloon. It was fairly quiet with a few patrons scattered around. He needed a drink, first and foremost. He waited for his whiskey-beer would not be enough for what he had to do-and turned to survey the room.
JD and Ezra were sitting at a table near the front of the room, engrossed in what appeared to be Ezra trying to teach JD a card game. They seemed to be having a good time, Buck hated telling them his news. He could've waited forever to tell them something like this. He slowly approached the table and sat down.
Ezra immediately noted Buck's unusual demeanor. "Something has happened to Mr. Larabee."
"Is he--?" JD hesitated, reluctant to voice what he and Ezra were thinking.
Buck shook his head. The fact that Chris wasn't dead didn't make this any easier to say.
"He's blind," he said at last, so softly the others had to strain to hear.
"Blind," echoed JD in disbelief. "Does Chris know?"
Ezra and Buck shot him a look. JD closed his mouth and fastened his eyes on his cards with renewed interest.
"How did he take it?" Ezra set the deck aside and leaned back in his chair.
"How do you think? Someone's gonna hafta let Vin and Josiah know."
"You know," Ezra began thoughtfully, "I've always thought of Mr. Larabee as the leader of our ragtag bunch. What becomes of him--and us--now?"
"He can still lead us if he wants to," JD said earnestly. "Ain't like his mind's gone, right?" There was a pause. "Right?"
"Right, JD," Buck agreed at last, but Ezra's question still reverberated in his mind.
------------------------------
Vin stood on the hilltop, gazing out over the valley. This was where it had happened. Where everything had gone wrong. Where he'd injured his best friend. Maybe killed him. Josiah said Chris wouldn't likely die, but Vin wasn't so sure. The waiting was the worst part. No, not the worst. He didn't want to think about what was worst.
And then there was 'Priscilla Moore' or whoever she was. But, really, it wasn't her fault. It was all his, for allowing himself to be taken in by her. And now it could cost Chris his life.
The empty liquor bottle still lay on its side on the mossy ground. He picked it up and threw it as hard as he could, listening for the satisfying crash of broken glass against rock. He sighed heavily and headed back to town.
What he ought to do was to stay away from Chris. But he couldn't. He had to know if Chris was going to be all right. Maybe Chris was awake by now. He hoped so more. More than anything in the world, he hoped so.
------------------------------
Chris awoke suddenly to complete blackness. His heart sank as he realized that nothing had changed since the last time. Day or night, it was all the same to him now. His head still ached, though now it was a constant, dull throb, and his stomach rumbled audibly.
"You hungry?"
Nathan's voice startled him. He nodded. Not sure if Nathan saw it, he added "Yeah. What time is it?"
"'Bout 4:30 in the afternoon. I got some errands t' do and a couple of patients to see, but I'll send someone back with some food." There was a long silence. "You been in that bed two days now. Mebbe you'd like to sit in a chair fo' awhile?"
Chris shrugged.
"All right." Nathan helped him from the bed to a chair by the window. Chris could feel the warm sun on his face, even though he couldn't see it. "Thanks. Where's Vin?" he asked suddenly.
"He was here constantly while you was out. Probably catchin' up on all that sleep he missed worryin' hisself to death. I'll be back in a little while. You stay put, now." Chris could hear the smile in Nathan's voice with that last.
"Yeah."
He listened for the retreating footsteps, leaned back in the chair and sighed tiredly.
It reminded him of that time in the Jericho prison in 'The Hole.' He felt closed in now as he did then, and he longed to escape the unending darkness to a place where there was light and color and beauty. Despite the near-constant presence of his friends, he knew he was alone in his dark world.
He slumped in his chair, glad to be by himself at last. The strain of struggling to be strong, of taking it all in stride, was already taking its toll.
What would happen to him now? When he'd lost his home, his family, and his livelihood, he had still survived. It had been tough, but somehow he'd survived. But how could he survive this, too? How could he endure the stares and the pity and depending on others? These were the things he'd feared more than death. He felt more helpless, vulnerable and truly alone than he ever had in his life.
His body trembled as hot tears of frustration, fear, and loss tracked unchecked down his face.
------------------------------
He didn't know how much time had passed, but it had been awhile since Nathan had left. He heard someone climb the steps and come in.
"Whoever you are, if you're lookin' for Nathan, he's out," he called out.
"I know."
JD.
Chris could smell hot food and his stomach knotted.
"He sent me back with a bowl of stew for you. Inez sends her regards." He put the warm bowl and a spoon in Chris's hands.
There was silence as Chris dug into the first hot meal he'd tasted in days.
"Nathan said to eat slow." Another pause. "Would you like me to read t' you while you eat?"
"If you want."
JD sat on the bed, pulled out one a dime novel, and began to read aloud. Chris didn't care for that kind of literature himself, but he appreciated the fact that JD was trying to entertain him. When he'd finished eating, he held out the bowl and spoon.
"Thanks, JD. And thank Inez for me."
"Anything else I can do?"
"Yeah. Yeah, there is."
------------------------------
It was late afternoon when Vin arrived back into town. He headed straight for Nathan's, hoping for the best and trying to brace himself for the worst. As he opened the door, his heart nearly stopped when he saw the empty bed.
Nathan was pacing the room and fuming, which could only mean Chris wasn't dead but soon could be.
Vin stepped into the room. "He's awake? Where is he?"
"Damn fool! I done tol' him to stay put! Clothes are gone, even his gun. He's still got stitches in his head, dammit, and he's traipsin' aroun'…" He angrily shoved a note into Vin's hands. "Read it."
"Can't ya just tell me?"
"He wanted t' go back t' that shack of his in the hills. Got JD to take him." Nathan shook his head in disgust. "I asked that boy to do one thing for me--"
"I gotta see him," Vin said flatly and started out the door.
"Wait!" Nathan licked his lips before continuing. "Did you see any of the others on your way here?"
Vin shook his head. His blue eyes narrowing. "No, why?"
"Somebody shoulda tol' ya," Nathan said quietly.
"Told me what?"
"Chris is…well, he's….he's blind."
Vin suddenly felt cold all over, then he exploded. "NO!"
"I'm sorry, but--"
"Yer a liar!" Vin continued hotly.
Nathan looked surprised at the sudden attack. He tried to catch Vin's arm in an effort to calm him. "Listen, I know--"
With a defiant glare, Vin tugged his arm free. "He's not," he declared, shaking his head. His voice began to quiver as he turned toward the door. "I didn't--"
"Didn't what?" Nathan asked in a hushed tone.
Vin didn't seem to hear as he hurried out the door and down the steps to the street.
------------------------------
JD guided Chris into the tiny shack, then helped him remove his short, black jacket and his gunbelt, and set them on the bed.
"You sure Nathan ain't gonna have my hide for this?" he asked for the third time.
"If he does, I'll talk to 'im," Chris reassured him.
"Anything else you want? Casey's kinda waiting for me and…"
"Yeah, there is one thing more." He groped around the top of the bed, and carefully picked up his gunbelt, folding it into a bundle. He turned in JD's general direction and held it out to him.
"I want you to have this."
JD gaped, open-mouthed. "Your gun? Chris, I can't-"
"Go on. Take it. I can't use it anymore."
Slowly, almost reverently, JD took the rig from Chris's hands. Satisfied, Chris made his way back to the bed and sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him on the mattress, his back against the wall.
JD fingered the worn, tooled leather and polished metal. His fingertips traced the well-oiled gun metal. Chris Larabee's gun. It had seen a lot of action. And now it was his. Given to him by Chris Larabee himself. He swallowed a lump in his throat.
"I'll hold onto it for you," he said at last, when he could find his voice again. "You might want it back some day."
Chris forced a smile.
"You do that."
------------------------------
It was almost dusk when Vin arrived at the quiet shack. While still several yards away, he dismounted and cautiously approached, but froze at a movement from inside the tiny building. Relief flooded through him at seeing Chris alive and awake as he came outside, shirtless and barefoot. Chris stood by the door, listening intently.
Instinctively, Vin crouched down in the tall grass and didn't move. He watched Chris a moment, then slowly straightened in full view of the gunman. Chris turned his head until it seemed like he was staring directly at Vin yet he didn't acknowledge him. Finally, without a word, he turned and went back inside.
So it was true.
Chris really was blind.
Blind!
It was like being punched in the chest and the gut the same time. Suddenly he could think of nothing to say to Chris. His mind was blank except for the accusing voices that now filled his brain, echoing over and over, as he silently backed away, mounted up, and rode out.
'This is all your fault.' 'You did this to him.' 'You ruined your best friend's life.'
Vin headed back to town, his heart and gut wrenching painfully every step of the way, the pain sometimes intense and real enough to stop his breathing. Maybe he could face Chris in the morning. He just couldn't do it right now.
------------------------------
Chris could tell it was morning. The moist, cool air had the smell of morning, and he could hear the noisy twitter of birds outside. He dragged himself reluctantly out of the comfort and relative safety of his bed and pulled on a shirt.
Morning. Another day of unending darkness, defined only by sounds and smells, and whatever he could feel and touch. Another day of trying to prove to himself and to the world that he was still independent, still a survivor.
He groped around the tiny kitchen area, searching for some bacon and bread to fry for breakfast. He hadn't eaten since the bowl of stew the day before and he was ravenously hungry. It took several tries to light the stove, but he could feel the rising heat against his palms at last.
He was feeling a little heartened by his success so far.
He put a lump of lard in the fry pan and heard it sizzle. As he added the bacon to the pan, there was a 'whoosh' and Chris cried out in pain as hot and flaming grease spattered everywhere, including on his hands, arms and shirt. He could feel the fire's heat against his face. He groped for the flour and threw it against the top of the tiny stove, smothering the flames, then impulsively grabbed the hot pan by its handle. Cursing with rage and pain, he flung the pan against the wall.
It was all too much. Frustration and fear boiled over as he grabbed at anything his hands could reach and flung it aside. The few possessions he had flew around the room, crashing against the wall and floor.
He stood there, breathing heavily and shaking, fighting for control. "I can't do this!" His scream of frustration trailed off to a whimper. "I can't…"
He wasn't so damned hungry after all, he decided angrily, ignoring the pangs in his stomach and the pain still radiating through his hands and wrists as he fell onto the mattress and curled up on his side.
His thoughts drifted to Vin. Where was he?
Vin hadn't been anywhere near him since the accident. Nathan had said Vin had been worried about him but it was hard to tell when the tracker was nowhere around. Chris wanted very much to talk to him. He had tried to remember the details of the accident but it only made his head ache worse than it already did. He wanted to know what had really happened that day.
Had he been drunk when he fell? He vaguely remembered that it had something to do with liquor. And something else-was Vin angry with him? Maybe that was why he wasn't around. Chris wondered what he'd done to anger the Texan.
His head pounded sharply. Chris put his hands on both sides of his head, trying to contain the pain. Then awareness left him completely.
------------------------------
Vin tossed the empty bottle aside. Damn, he wasn't drunk enough yet. He knew that by the fact that the pain hadn't dulled one bit. He'd been drunk all last night since he'd left Chris's place and now he was disappointed to find himself sobering up again. He didn't want to be sober. Sober meant pain. He didn't think he'd ever hurt so bad in all his life as he did now for what he'd done to his best friend.
Which'd be worse? Killin' 'im or blindin' 'im? He knew the answer to that. Blinding him. Condemning a man like Chris Larabee to a hell on earth.
I don't deserve to have a best friend. I don't deserve to have any friends at all, Vin thought angrily. At least then he couldn't hurt people he cared about.
He headed back to the saloon. He needed to get more whiskey. At least enough to take away the pain, as if there was that much whisky in the whole territory.
------------------------------
It had been a tough decision for Ezra. Poker or Chris. He knew he was considered the least sensitive of the group and that annoyed him a little. It wasn't that he cared any less about what had happened to Chris. He regarded Chris as truly being a friend--a label Ezra applied to acquaintances very selectively. But he was ultimately a pragmatist more than a sentimentalist and, though he cared deeply, he had the least facility for revealing such feelings.
An afternoon poker game was certainly appealing, and he quite possibly could've turned a modest profit. But friendship was one of those things that couldn't be measured in dollars and cents. Chris had trusted Ezra with his life almost since the day they met. Ezra had let him down only once and Chris had forgiven him for it. The gambler wisely never allowed it to happen again.
Ezra hadn't seen his friend since Chris had awakened, and he was at least as curious as any of the others about seeing firsthand how Chris was faring. Ezra respected and admired his courage for going back out to his shack to try to continue his life as normal. He didn't know how he himself would have survived such a loss, and he'd be more than grateful to never find out.
As always, the modest little building appeared quiet. Sometimes one couldn't tell if anyone was living there or not. Ezra boldly stepped inside and stopped in mild surprise.
Clothes were scattered around and the few pieces of furniture were overturned. A burned pan lay in the corner, and food and flour were scattered about. A ruined shirt lay on the floor near the disheveled bed. The mattress was half-way onto the floor and Chris was curled up it, shirtless and barefoot, eyes closed, knees drawn in to his chest.
"Chris?"
Chris's eyes opened but focused on nothing.
"Ezra?" he said with mild disinterest.
Ezra studied him. There were red patches on his wrists and forearms.
"What happened here?"
Chris didn't answer.
"Let me see those burns."
"I don't need no help," came the tart reply, even as he slowly sat up to let Ezra examine the injured skin.
"I know." Ezra replied coolly. "I'm not a doctor, but I think you ought to let Nathan examine these injuries. I'm sure you don't need an infection on top of everything else."
"Don't need no doctorin'."
"I can see them; you can't. I'll take you into town so he can have a look at you."
Chris's stomach suddenly rumbled. "It does that a lot lately, " he grumbled. "Just ignore it. I have."
Ezra looked at him sharply as he righted the table and chairs. "When is the last time you ate?"
"Don't know." He snorted in amusement. " I'd look at my watch but..."
The gambler ignored the comment. He picked up a pot, some dishes and other utensils and then and began to rummage around the tiny cookstove.
"What're you doing?" Chris asked curiously. "I told you I don't need no help."
Chris listened to the sounds of Ezra preparing some bacon and a tin of beans. Chris idly touched one of the burns with his fingertips, hissing at the pain.
"Didn't know you could cook, Ezra," he said at last.
Ezra shrugged. "I can do what I have to when I need to do it. Just because I don't cook, doesn't mean I'm incapable of it."
Chris nodded in agreement as Ezra set a steaming plate in front of him. "It's not the Ritz, and would even pale next to a repast of Inez's, but it's nutritionally sufficient. Now eat. Then I'm taking you back to Nathan's."
"I told you--I'm fine."
"Yes, I see that," Ezra observed dryly. "He'll at least want to take out those stitches of yours, I'm sure. So just indulge us both, all right?"
"I'll need a shirt," was all he would say.
------------------------------