I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to write and say they enjoy and approve of the changes I've made in this story. As I said, I'm trying to make sure I can tie up all the loose ends in the last story and all of your notes are a great help.
As the morning sun greeted another day, JD Dunne felt surprisingly energized. He hadn't slept in two nights. Although he had been given his hat and shirt so his condition wouldn't get worse and become even more obvious in town, the material of the shirt was rough and stung badly. He'd never noticed it before. Of course it had never rubbed against his tender inflamed skin and ruptured the sickly water blisters on his shoulders and upper back before either.
These men needled him unmercifully on how Buck and Ezra would suffer - the muscle cramps, dizzying nausea, throbbing headaches and weakness that forced a man's body to give up before his mind did. Bannister said a man almost watched himself die. Perkins ruminated almost fondly on how toward the end, even men who knew to go to shade would see mirages so realistic they pulled them from that sanctuary; that slight reprieve.
And then they would laugh at how easy it had been to take three of the so-called "Magnificent Seven".
"Two and a half," the possum amended, trying to get a rise out of JD. They'll look at you, JD. Let 'em see a boy. And when they're stupid enough and let their guard down, you stop 'em. JD focused on Buck's words and rode, head down, and tried to look defeated. But JD knew he would kill these men. He would gun them down with the same efficiency as Chris Larabee. These men would never ridicule his friends where anyone else would ever hear it.
He noticed a chaparral race away from them. It had a thin snake in its beak. The creosote bushes were giving way to low grasses; the desert was giving way to plains as the men pulled up.
Bannister took Buck's shirt, covered in dried blood, and Ezra's frilled white linen shirt and tied them to the saddle horn of one of the spare horses. He also put a note there, but didn't offer to tell JD what it said. Then he swatted the horse on the flank to get it on its way. It was one of the livery horses. JD knew it would take those shirts right back to town. Vin would have that trail in no time, but why..?
JD didn't have to speculate. Bannister turned back to his men. "Let that one take a direct route. We'll stop by the water hole at Skinout Plateau and fill the canteens." He paused long enough to pull himself into the saddle. "By the time we work our way to town the other's'll be trying to backtrack the mare. The town will be ours."
"I need Vin to help me get back to Buck and Ezra." JD demanded.
"You'll have to work with what ya got, kid." Perkins smirked. He didn't seem too concerned one way or the other.
JD knew they planned on killing him as soon as they had the money. They had no intention of letting him bring help to the others. Well, he may have learned from Chris Larabee how to hate people who hurt your family, but he had learned from Ezra Standish how to play a mark and let them believe what they wanted. So JD nodded meekly as if accepting that, at least, he would be given a chance to rescue his friends. Oh, he'd get his chance. These men just didn't know it.
Would Chris and the others be out following that horse? It didn't matter.
As they rode, the pinks and oranges in the eastern sky gave way to the cloudless robin's egg blue of the day.
Dawn gave way to mid-morning. The high desert chill gave itself up to the heat.
Chris rode a little behind Tanner to stay out of the way. It didn't matter. They had long since run out of any legitimate trail to follow.
Now they were heading in the last direction they had - they were following Vin's hunch. But damn it, at least they were doing something.
Josiah shared the buckboard with Nathan. But he had, in fact, brought JD, Ezra and Buck's horses tied to the back. They wouldn't want to ride the wagon if they didn't have to. Besides, leaving with the horses gave hope, no matter how imaginary, to the town that their three missing peacekeepers would soon return.
Josiah was sensitive to the pulse of the town, even more so than Nathan. While the healer focused on their physical health, the preacher centered on the mental well-being of the town. And it was ebbing. They were spoiled having seven men protect the town. There had been more than one set of eyes watching them leave even though it had at such a late hour.
What was the bond between the seven? Josiah wondered, not for the first time. What made the safety of the others so important to the separate individuals? It went beyond friendship. It was as if by saving the group, the individuals were saving the vulnerable, often hidden humanity that had been very nearly lost to each of them before they met.
Why, after many, many years of not needing anyone, did so many of them suddenly need each other? Why did the others, those that all along knew they needed one person to care, share the friendships so willingly? Josiah couldn't answer that for himself. How could he answer it for the others?
His musings were drawn back to the present when Vin pulled his horse to a stop.
A riderless horse was cantering toward them.
They took a moment to evaluate the situation and look for potential danger. But in that space of two breaths, Vin dismounted his own black to approach the mare. She didn't seem skittish, but he wouldn't take chances. Cooing gentling words as he approached, he watched the horse's ears twitch toward him and huge brown eyes roll his direction. She watched the stranger come nearer, but didn't exhibit fear.
The others stayed back to let Vin approach the animal. But as soon as he touched the reins and his mind touched on what was tied to the saddle horn, it was Larabee who reached the shirts first and grabbed them.
small piece of parchment floated to the ground.
Josiah and Nathan walked up as the man in black picked up the paper. They all watched the dark gunslinger's expression cloud over like thunderheads rolling across the plains.
Chris's heart clenched when he saw the bloody shirts tied around the saddle horn.
He recognized the animal as was one of the livery horses, missing since their friends disappeared. But the words on the parchment…
Faster than a snake striking, Chris had his fists wound deep in the lapels of Nathan's jacket. The paper was still crumpled in his fingers. He was nose-to-nose with the tall black man.
The livery horse skittered sideways in an attempt to get away from the startling motions and emotions that came off the man in waves.
Vin fought to settle the horse. Josiah fought to get himself wedged between Chris and Nathan. "This is because of me?" The blond demanded with fear and guilt, "What did they say? Why didn't you tell me?"
Nathan was trying to pry the other man's fingers from his clothes. The anger had taken over. That meant the gunfighter would strike out at the nearest target.
"It's not because of you!" Nathan tried to force the words to penetrate Chris's veil of hate.
Josiah finally pushed Larabee from his friend. "You don't know the men who did this."
"Chris," Nathan offered as an apology, "They said they were hired... never mentioned any names... any clues to who was paying them. If I had thought it would help any by telling you…"
"It's just words, Chris. Words to make you doubt yourself. We can't afford that. Buck and the others can't afford that." Josiah fought to find words that would reach their leader.
Larabee fought for control. His eyes were shades darker with emotion. His body tremored once with the effort to control himself and not strike out at something - anything - anyone. "They're doing this because of me... because Buck's my friend... because JD's…" Seemingly as proof, he shook the parchment at the other men.
"What does it say, Cowboy?" Vin asked, trying to get a sense of what upset his friend. He approached him gently, speaking lowly as he had so recently approached the skittish livery stable mare.
"There's no truth in those words," Nathan insisted.
He didn't know what was on the paper, but he knew what words Bannister and his men had tried to get him to use against their leader back when all this started at the stable fire. It was easy to imagine the same attack was scribbled on the crinkled paper still clutched in Larabee's fist. "Even if it has some facts in it, it's skewed by some man's hatred and pettiness, but it's not the truth." And in saying the words, Nathan realized it was just as true of the letter he had received as it was of the letter now crumpled in the gunslinger's hand.
Josiah met Nathan's eyes and read the understanding there. And realized it also extended to the written attack on Vin, Facts, maybe, skewed by hatred and pettiness, but not the truth
"I can follow these fresh tracks right back." Vin offered to diffuse the situation. "They've made a mistake, Chris."
"Or they know we're too late? That it doesn't matter, there's nothing we can do!"Larabee lashed out. The thought scared him to death and he didn't know how to react to a fear that wouldn't let itself be disguised as anger. He stared at the men with him, stared out into the barren wasteland and suddenly strode over and remounted, not waiting for the others.
There was no apology, no release from his emotions. Tanner was right. However this played out, even he could follow this horse's path. They would find the men who did this.
Shockingly, the leader of the peacekeepers, suddenly realized his thoughts were of finding and punishing their attackers, as if it were too late to save their friends. This thought, the fatalism of what it meant, had him spurring his horse faster.
Vin handed the livery horse's reins to Josiah. "We'll keep you in sight."
The others nodded. They knew when Larabee was driven he couldn't be controlled. Only one of the two people who could steer him was present. He mounted his own mustang without wasting time with the stirrups and loped after his friend.
Nathan and Josiah returned to the wagon and followed at the slower pace it demanded.