Hold On Mr. Larabee
Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven and characters are the property of MGM Television, The Mirsch Corporation, Trilogy Entertainment Group and CBS. No profit has been made off of this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 7
Chris noticed that the wind was bitingly cold and whipped his hair about his head, wiping at his running nose he mumbled to himself. "Should have gotten that hair cut the other day." As he moved along the outside of the farmhouse he looked toward the only logical place to possibly find his missing friends, the dark and silent barn; its hulk blocking out the stars resting on the horizon. Having no idea what would have called all three from the house, he preceded cautiously across the yard, silently wishing for some moonlight to light his way across the unfamiliar property. He had no intention of falling into anymore wells or being happened upon any ne'er-do-wells who may be in the immediate vicinity.
A sudden prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck caused him to stop where he was. Standing perfectly still and holding his breath, he listened for any sounds out of the ordinary. His empty fingers itched to be wrapped around his Peacemaker; and just as he was giving into the sensation, a twig snapped behind him. Gun clearing leather, he spun in the direction of the noise, but before he could bring it to bear something with the force of a sledgehammer slammed into his back and out through his chest, near his shoulder, dropping him to the ground.
Lights flashing behind his eyelids, he gasped in pain as he managed to open his eyes and look around frantically, trying to find his assailant in the darkness. There was nothing; just the tree limbs creaking in the wind and the rustling of the winter grasses. Who was out there and where were they hiding? Groaning through grit teeth he tried to lever himself up, but his left arm useless and his right hand holding his gun in a death grip it almost impossible. With his strength ebbing away with his life's blood here he was lying out in the open like a landed fish, unable to get himself up off the frozen ground. Chris yelled in frustration, "Show yourself you yellow-bellied coward. Only cowards shoot people in the back, get out here and face me!"
"I'm no coward, gunslinger." A rough voice called from the darkness, up near the house, "I just know how to tips the scales in my favor."
Taking a shuddering breath Chris slowly rolled to his knees, sweat pouring off of him despite the coldness in the air. His chest burned with every stuttered breath; fortunately he wasn't tasting blood so he counted his blessings. He could feel the blood running in rivulets down his back and front, soaking into his clothing and gathering at the waistband of his trousers. The gunslinger could hear a ringing in his ears and knew time was running out, "What do you want? Why are you doing this?" he croaked out, his breath short.
Stepping into the light cast by the lanterns in the kitchen, Dick Peters grinned evilly at the gunslinger, "I want you, Larabee. I want to destroy you and your reputation. When I'm done with you, you'll be a shadow of your former self."
Chris tried to bring his gun up but it felt as if it weighed a hundred pounds. Looking down at his hand he tried to will it into movement, but his brain had lost communication with his arm. Two feet came into his field of view and he slowly looked up, there stood Dick Peters larger than life, and he was grinning like the cat that licked the cream. Chris gave him one of his most heated glares.
"Welcome to Hell!" Peter's cackled and kicked the gunslinger in the chest, sending him into a sprawl back into the dirt.
Chris looked up at Peters with heavily hooded eyes, unable to gather the strength to fight back. They were definitely in trouble this time.
~o~
Ezra watched Frank Peters pace back and forth in the barn, the man was obviously disgruntled. It was probably some form of sibling rivalry, big brother trying to keep little brother under his boot or some such ploy. He tried to think up some barb to rile the horse thief, but before he had his chance Buck was back at it again. The ladies man was a glutton for punishment.
Taking the opportunity to interrupt the silence Buck called to Peters, "Hey, Frankie. Why you let him walk all over you like that? I bet you got just as much clout as he does, bet you're the better shot too. I saw the way you wielded your gun. Wouldn't want some brother keeping me under his thumb."
Frank turned on Buck, "Shut up! You're not supposed to talk. Dick's in charge. He knows what's what."
Buck shook his head and licked at the blood that continued to weep from his split lip. "You know big brothers aren't always right, sometimes they need guidance too. Dick's probably just hoping you'll step forward and take over. You being the smarter one an all."
Frank scrubbed at his neck with his hands and thrust them through his hair, "I told you to shut up!" he charged over to Buck punching him in the gut hard enough to leave the man wheezing for air.
On the other side of the barn Vin was trying to work his hands free of his bonds as Buck continued to torment Frank. Chris was the only one who had yet to be trussed like a bird at Sunday supper and the tracker was concerned, Dick had gone back out and had yet to return. They could only hope that Chris would somehow evade their tormentors and start a rescue. Vin's head was throbbing with every beat of his heart and he could barely see out of his left eye. How in the world are we getting out of this mess? He thought silently.
~o~
"Get up you lazy good for nothing dog!" Dick Peters spat at Chris kicking him viciously in the back just below the bullet wound.
Chris cried out and jerked away in pain, his hand scrabbling for his gun which was laying a few feet away. Peters saw this and viciously stomped down on Chris's hand forcing him to release it. As Peters reached down to grab up his gun he used his free hand to grab a handful of tangled blonde hair and pull the injured man to a seated position. Tears unwillingly sprang to Chris's eyes as the horse thief yanked his hair harder and jammed his own weapon under the gunslinger's chin.
Peters moved in close and breathed in, "You smell like fear Larabee. Are you scared?" he whispered in Chris ear, grinning as his captive tried to push free. He pulled him closer, his lips brushing the gunslinger's ear; the thief impulsively ran his tongue around the outside shell of the gunslinger's ear reveling in the responding quake.
Chris shuddered in revulsion and froze as Peters pressed closer, "Don't!" he rasped out and aimed a fist Peters' face, which the man caught easily due his weakened condition.
"My, my, aren't we full of piss and vinegar! Guess we better get you to the party." Moving to a standing position Dick Peters pulled Chris up by his hair and pulled him in close to his body, "Come on sweetheart, we've got work to do and you've got a long night ahead of you."