Bruce carefully coiled the rope as they returned to the Game room. A depressed silence settled over the group as they retraced their steps.
"How are we going to tell Cedric's family?" Bruce muttered.
"I would suggest we downplay his violence toward Mr. Tanner. There is no appreciable benefit in causing them more sorrow," Ezra's drawl was thick.
"You want us to lie?" JD asked in shock.
"No, Mr. Dunne, by all means tell the investigators the truth. I was referring to any dealings with the distraught family," Ezra sighed.
Chris' hackles rose as he spotted Jock Steele standing in front of the locked kitchen door with his camera clinched in his hands. The little reporter looked guilty as well as relieved that he had been interrupted before entering the room. Jock paled considerably as Larabee's deadly glare pinned him in place. Exchanging a look with Nettie, Chris nodded towards the 'chicks' and the injured Standish. Nettie nodded and silently urged the group on down the hall to the Game Room, leaving Buck to referee. Once the others were around the corner, Chris cut loose.
"What in hell do you think you're doing?" Chris snarled. "This is a crime scene."
"Inquiring Minds needs to know. The public has the right to the real story," Jock bleated.
"No, it doesn't," Buck huffed, picking Jock up by the collar and giving him a firm shake.
"We locked that door for a reason," Chris growled furiously.
"The key was hanging on the door casing. If it was off limits, it wouldn't have been there," Jock protested halfheartedly, looking sheepish.
"Give me the camera now, Steele! Buck, get him out of here before I kill him," Larabee said coldly.
"Sure, Stud." Wilmington eased the camera out of Jock's frightened grip, handing it to Larabee before frog-marching the reporter down the hall.
Buck scowled down at the nosey little man. Ah Hell! He's not really a ghoul. He's more like a four year old playing James Bond. I'll let Chris rub his nose in his mess and swat him with a newspaper. Need to make sure Chris doesn't come down too hard on him though. He doesn't mean any harm. Little fella's gonna get himself killed if he's not careful.
Larabee scowled before snatching the key off its hook and pocketing it. Angrily, he removed the memory card from the camera. Looking thoughtful, he turned the camera on and began to check the photos in the memory or the camera itself. I guess the septic tank really did eat Fowler. Chris snorted faintly. I better leave these, they are evidence, I guess. Chris calmly began deleting pictures of the 'chicks' and the talents that Jock had managed to snap unnoticed. Holy Shit! Larabee stared at a picture of Vin. It's one thing to hear Buck and the other speaking of ghosts, but to have actual proof. Tanner was sitting with Pony in front to the fire place, a blond haired little boy of about five sat beside him. The child was wearing old fashioned trousers, a loose fitting long sleeved shirt, and cowboy boots. The chair could clearly be seen through the child's body. Shakily, Chris deleted the picture, removed the batteries, and pocketed them along with the memory card. Bet the little shit carries spares. Darting a quick glance to make certain he couldn't be seen, Larabee placed the small camera behind one of the elaborate picture frames, hiding it from view. I'll give it back when this is over. Chris promised himself.
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Buck and a wilted Jock Steele entered the Game room in time to overhear Angel's comments.
"Be real careful what you say about the accident. If anything derogatory about Cedric comes out, Senator Kilkenny will try to ruin your reputation," Angel warned the others.
"Senator Sean Kilkenny!?! The headless boy is the Senator's son?" Jock gasped in excitement, ripping the notebook from his breast pocket and reaching for the pencil tucked behind his ear. The little man began scribbling furiously and muttering to himself, visions of posting the story of the year dancing in his mind.
Maybe I should have locked him in the kitchen. He wouldn't be so gung-ho then. Larabee scowled at the excited reporter.
Ezra made a mental note; I must remember to relieve our wayward journalist of his memoirs before we affect our escape from this antediluvian prison. Simple slight of hand should accomplish the feat nicely. A smile briefly crossed the conman's face as he discreetly watched the journalist.
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Ivy was pacing by the French doors and Sydney Crooks was looking miserable, slumped down in a chair by the fire. He seemed to be keeping a wary eye toward the corner where his sleeping bag lay abandoned. Mary smiled widely and hurried towards them.
"You found him," she said breathlessly before reaching out to touch Vin's curls.
"He went to find a sunrise," Chris grunted.
"People still need to eat," Nettie muttered, ignoring Mary. "Casey, would you help me get something ready for everyone?"
"Sure, Aunt Nettie," Casey looked relieved to have something to do.
"If we put the cover on the pool table, we can set the food out on that," JD suggested.
"That's a good idea," Buck nodded. "Tony, Bruce, you want to help JD and me put the cover on?" Buck headed over to the heavy wooden cover followed by the young men.
Angel looked lost now that she wasn't actively doing something.
"Angel, could you see if there's any thing we can use for plates and such or if we'll need to go to the dining room and get some?" Nettie urged.
"Yes Ma'am," Angel straightened and started checking the cabinets.
"Ms. Lemon, might I suggest searching the bar area first. It would not be out of place for snacks and even simple meals to have been prepared there." Ezra suggested quietly.
"Thanks Mr. Standish, I never thought about that," Angel smiled weakly.
"You're most welcome," Ezra responded.
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"I'll settle Vin for you if you'd like," Chris offered Nettie.
"If he'll let you. My boy is all out of sorts," Nettie warned.
"Vin, let's go over by the fire and let Ms. Nettie get a meal together," Chris urged, holding out his hand palm up, he waited.
"Vin honey, will you go with Chris?" Nettie asked.
Tanner didn't react for a moment then lifted his head; a faint frown drew his eyebrows together. Vin's eyes focused for a second before reaching out to the other man. Chris blinked as once more Vin grasped his forearm. Gently, Chris closed his fingers around the other man's forearm, completing the bond.
"Hey, there's a sink, dorm sized refrigerator, and a two burner stove top back here," Angel announced, breaking the silence. "Plenty of cups, glasses, and yes, there are small plates and silverware too." Rustling and bumps were heard from behind the bar. "I found a coffee pot and here's coffee. It's in a sealed can, but do you think it will still be good?" Angel asked skeptically.
"It should be fine," Nettie answered.
"There was an electric skillet in the stuff we brought in," Casey rummaged through the gear piled against the wall. "Waffle Iron? Who brought a waffle iron?" Casey asked in surprise.
"It's also a griddle," Bruce hurried over and rescued his 'baby' from Casey's grasp. "I happen to like waffles, all right."
"That will take care of you and Vin," Nettie smiled. "I brought some canned peaches with me. I'm sure Vin won't mind sharing if you'll let him have a few waffles."
"Peaches?"
"Oh, Aunt Nettie chops up peaches into the batter and uses the peach syrup instead of milk to flavor them. Vin and syrup don't mix," Casey giggled.
"Boy loves peaches," Nettie's careworn face brightened.
Chris paled before shakily leading Vin over to his spot in front of the fire. I guess all little boys have trouble with syrup.
Buck's eyes locked with the shaken Larabee's. Damn' that brings back memories. Whenever Salvia had things to get done, she'd put Elf in his highchair, just wearing his diaper, give him a feather and pour some syrup on the tray. It kept Junior busy for hours trying to pick that feather off his hands. Chris sure learned to watch out for those sticky little fingers in a hurry. Buck relaxed as a faint smile tugged at Chris' lips. Guess he's remembering too. Lord, the mess Chris and I made trying to clean that boy up the first time we tried to use that trick. I can't believe how simple Salvia made it look when she came home. She just bundled that squirmy little cuss in a bath towel pinning his arms, lost the diaper and dropped him in a kitchen sink full of bubbles. Elf didn't even have time to get upset over being trapped. Told us to take the highchair outside and use the water hose on it like she always did. She was real nice about telling us not to let Elf down before he was clean from then on. She was always great about teaching you things without making you feel stupid. Of course we still got to mop the floor. Lord, I miss 'em.
Lord, I'm not much of a praying man but let me find their bodies instead of Chris. I want them took care of proper and all, but Chris doesn't need ta stumble upon 'em. Help me find that sweet lady and our Elf, please Lord.
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"How are you, Josiah?" Nettie asked the still pale psychologist.
"I'll recover," Josiah flushed as he pulled a sleeping bag across his lap to hide the ice pack.
"Good," Nettie patted his shoulder as she passed. "Would you like some real coffee?"
"Please, I'd love a cup of real coffee," Josiah smiled.
"Is that smart? I mean it's fifteen years old or so." JD reminded.
"Son, I served in Vietnam where I was eating C-rations left over from WWII. A little boiled coffee isn't going to hurt me." Josiah chuckled.
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"Standish, sit down before you fall down," Nathan Jackson growled, walking over and steering Ezra to a comfortable chair. "I put this arm in a sling for a reason you know," Jackson huffed as he examined Standish's swollen fingers. "I'll make an ice pack for you. How's the headache?"
"Very reminiscent of a memorably bad hangover I acquired from confiscating some of Auntie Meredith's 'recipe' when I was eight," Ezra sighed.
"I've got some ibuprofen in my bag if you can take it. Nothing with aspirin until I'm sure that bleeder has stopped. May I?" Nathan waited for permission before 'looking' at the head injury.
"Be gentle please. It is rather crowded within my cranium at the moment," Ezra drawled, exhaustion evident in his tone.
"The bleeding seems to have stopped, but you need to take it easy. Your blood pressure is a little high," Nathan muttered.
"Doctor Jackson, a young man is dead in a rather gruesome manner. He was not an admirable person, yet I find myself disturbed by his demise none the less. If Mr. Steele is to be believed, another death occurred last evening. This domicile is crowded with non-structured persons, most of whom make Mr. Kilkenny appear the saint. The abode itself is a malignant entity which has chosen to incarcerate us for some unknown nefarious purpose. I believe an elevated blood pressure could be justified at this time." Ezra laid his head back against the chair with a put upon lament
"Have to agree with you," Nathan admitted. "Try and keep calm as possible though, all right."
"I shall endeavor to do so, Dr. Jackson." Ezra closed his eyes with a tired sigh.
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"Sit down, Pard," Chris gently urged Tanner down to the floor in front of the fire place.
Vin stretched out a slender hand to stroke the metal dragon before pulling Pony out of his shirt. Once more the humming started while Tanner rocked and petted his pony.
What is that? Chris knelt down and traced a spot on Vin's hand. Immediately, Vin jerked back, tucking both hands protectively to his chest, dropping Pony in the process. Larabee skidded back close to four feet before coming to a stop.
"I'm fine Buck," Chris calmed the big man hurrying towards him. "Don't go scaring the kid worse."
Nettie, a worried look on her face, stood stiffly watching the interplay. Chris nodded calmly before turning back to Tanner.
"Easy Vin, I'm not going to hurt you," Chris crooned.
Vin ducked his head and curled in on himself.
"Vin doesn't like anyone messing with his hands. Casey said he had to have surgery a few times and he couldn't understand why they hurt him that way." Nathan explained quietly, keeping his voice very calm.
"I'm sorry, Pard. I didn't mean to startle you. Here's Pony," Chris slowly moved back to Tanner's side. He laid the carved horse on Vin's lap and started petting its mane.
Long moments passed before Vin tentatively reached out to touch Pony. He flinched when Chris nudged it closer to his fingers, settling it into Vin's hand. Each man's fingers curled around the carving.
"Chris?" Sapphire blue eyes lifted from the clasped hands and carved wooden horse. Clear eyes looked around the room, registering everything in a sweeping glance. "Aw Hell! Didn't I tell yah tha' she were up ta no good? Damn witch has got her trap set good, Cowboy." As suddenly as the words poured forth, the lost look was back.
"Vin Tanner! Don't you be curs . . ." Nettie spluttered only to trail off in shock. "Oh honey, cuss if you want to, just keep talking." Nettie rushed over.
"I didn't know Vin was from Texas." JD's surprised voice filled the quiet room.
"I doubt Mr. Tanner is. However, the gentleman he just channeled is. Mr. Larabee, did you have a colorful acquaintance from the Lone Star State at sometime?" Ezra Standish's velvety tones inquired.
"Not that comes to mind," Chris said thoughtfully.
"Seemed to know you," Buck growled protectively. "He called you Cowboy. Now, who in hell was ever dumb enough to do that?"
"That wasn't my Vin," Nettie's eyes filled with tears before she stroked Tanner's cheek. "You find that path and come home to me, son." Taking a deep breath, she stepped back. "I don't care who you are, if you hurt my boy, I'll hunt you down and kill you all over again." Nettie growled at the unknown entity. "Breakfast isn't fixing itself," she huffed and bustled off.
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Everyone seemed to shake off the spell Tanner had woven and began moving again.
"She who?" Nathan asked uncomfortably.
"I believe that is the answer to our dilemma," Josiah muttered back.
"Ms. Travis is not pleased by Mr. Larabee's interest in our puzzling Mr. Tanner," Ezra spoke softly.
"If looks could kill," Nathan agreed with a shudder. "Did you notice how she tries to cut Chris off from everybody?"
"It would be wise to keep a close eye on both Ms. Travis and young Vin. There is a battle being waged between them in some manner. I fear Chris' soul is the prize." Josiah's troubled voice rumbled.
"Why Vin? That just doesn't make sense." Nathan scowled.
"That is the 64,000 dollar question, old friend," Josiah smiled ruefully.