Pop
Psychology
Disclaimer:
the Magnificent Seven are owned by MGM, Mirisch, Trilogy and were developed by John Watson. No infringement is intended, and no money
will be made from this.
Notes:
I dreamt this one up months and months ago, started writing it, then got
distracted. It is sort of a sequel to Three
of a Kind, but it's not necessary to have read that first. I just
realized I'd forgotten to mention that before.
Description:
Vin's having nightmares, and
they're killing him.
Status:
COMPLETE
Parts:
Nine
One,
Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine
____________________________________
To
be above it all, and yet immersed at the same time. It made no sense. Well, yes, it did.
It
was a dream.
He
imagined the way his body must look right now, tossing and turning in the blankets,
his face twisted by a dark frown, all his muscles tense and ready to spring,
unable to find an escape. He knew what
he looked like because almost every time he’d woken up in the last few weeks
his body had been sore, as if he’d been in the saddle all night, and his jaw
muscles ached. And this dream, this
nightmare, was one he was becoming horrible familiar with.
He
was flying, lighting across the red and brown landscape with ease, his wings
barely moving as he glided from one hot air pocket to the next. He’d wing to the left, then the right, his
sharp eyesight focused on the small wooden town in the distance. A golden eagle, free and
fast.
Then
he was there, above the dirt street, invisible to the people below. In his guise as an eagle, he’d see himself,
leaning against the jail, watching the town lazily, scratching a buckskin coated arm just above the elbow. Seconds later, he was inside the body,
looking out at the world through those familiar gray eyes, absorbing it. The wind howled about his ears, blowing his
long light brown hair across his face where it wasn’t tucked inside his
hat. He ignored it.
Inside,
he was screaming at himself to move. He
knew what was coming….Why wasn’t he doing anything to stop it?
The
body continued to just sit in the wooden chair, feet propped up on the banister
that ran between the boardwalk posts, not reacting to anything. He could hear the way the chair squeaked as
he rocked it slowly back and forth on its back legs.
And
Chris would emerge from out of the saloon, the tails of the long black duster
lifting with the breeze to whip around the thin legs. The man in black would look at him a moment,
and tip his hat in hello, before setting out down the street towards the
livery.
Move!
He screamed at his inert body. Do
something! Stop him NOW!
But
all the body did was lift a hand to tip his own hat,
no more.
The
rider came out of the dust and the wind, invisible one minute,
and there the next. Like a ghost or a
vision, it formed from nothingness, without warning. But HE had known it was coming. Had known, but did nothing….
He
felt the body drop its legs to the ground and stand in response to the sudden
threat, but it was too slow, and, as always, too late. The rider, whose face shifted -- sometimes a
woman’s, sometimes a man’s -- would raise the rifle to aim at Chris’s
unprotected back. Before Chris could
even turn around, the bullet that would end his life cut him down, killing him
instantly.
He
heard his body yell, saw the world tilt crazily around him as the townsfolk
screamed. Out of the corner of his eyes,
flashes of red, hunter green, and dark brown tickled his blurring vision as the
others came outside. But, like him, they
were too late.
Chris
was dead. The proud man’s greatest fear
come true – shot in the back. Never
given a chance to face his killer, to know his face, to have the opportunity to
fight back, even if only in vain.
And
the murderer himself…herself?…was gone back into the
dust. Lost. Free and clear.
Inside
the imprisoning body, Vin’s
spirit screamed. How could this
happen? How could he let it happen! He knew, he knew! And yet….
And
he was flying again, away from the town, away from the images of his best
friend lying face down in he dirt. Just another one gone. The golden eagle’s wings beat viciously,
angrily. A dream. A horrible senseless dream.
Please…don’t
let it be a vision.
But, though he wanted to, though he pushed the eagle to fly as far from
the town as possible, it didn’t matter. In
every direction he turned, there it was again.
The wooden clapboard buildings calling him back, dragging him back.
Wake
up, please, wake up.
He
was in town again. It was empty. No one walked the streets, not a dust swirl
rose from the ground. No dead body on
the ground. It looked normal….
The
eagle lit again on the rooftop above the jail and inspected the street.
Maybe
this time…maybe the dream won’t continue.
Control it, he demanded himself.
This is your dream – you must control it. Wake up.
Just open your eyes, damn it. You
do it everyday…just open your eyes.
The
sound of creaking leather and steel shod hooves pushing against the dirt ended
that hope. The nightmare would go on until it was finished. And here was part two.
Aw
Hell. Why won’t my damned eyes open?
Desperately,
the eagle’s body that he dreamed in tried to lift off. Tried not to look in the
direction of the rider coming in, in the dream. But his talons were glued to the tiles, and
the beautiful brown head turned, unable to fight the force of his
nightmare. He knew what he would see,
and yet….wake up. Please, to anyone out
there, wake me up!
Josiah
rode slowly into town on
Don’t
turn around, Josiah. Don’t turn.
But
the preacher always did.
The
eagle pulled at the sticky tiles, the hot tar fastening his claws to the
building as surely as if they had been nailed down. He had to…to…
Josiah
turned around and looked out at the town.
Surprise was the first emotion, then denial…and finally, absolute
despair. The roar of agony that the
large man emitted echoed up into the heavens, blasting the eagle’s senses. Unable to stop himself, Vin
turned the eagle’s head to look again at the town, which was empty no longer.
Six
bodies lined the ground, scattered haphazardly across the dirt, and the
buildings surrounding them were burning.
The saloon,
Helpless,
he watched as Josiah staggered forward, making a beeline for the man in black
first. Chris was sprawled on his side,
and Josiah knelt down next to him. A
hopeful hand was pressed to the pale neck, but of course, there was nothing
there.
Josiah
was crying and muttering now, the cadence of his voice rising and falling in
the stillness. With his eagle’s hearing,
Vin had no trouble hearing the man’s words.
“I’ve
done it again. I’ve failed again. Why wasn’t I here? I should have been here…to die with
them. God, no, not again…I can’t have
done this again….” Over and over, the
preacher said these things, and the self-hatred that filled the normally gentle
soul started to consume him as swiftly as the flames licked up the sides of the
buildings.
The
eagle watched as Josiah stepped over to where the tracker’s (his?) own body lay
and, after once more testing for a pulse, lifted the buckskin clad form into
his arms. Holding the body
close, as if it weighed no more than a child, the preacher carried it
back to where Chris lay and put him back down.
Above, the eagle screamed, trying to tell his friend that he wasn’t
dead. Josiah! It's just a dream! That’s
not me! I’m here! Above you, here! But
Josiah didn’t look up, and his usually soothing voice was cracking under the
strain.
“Together…two
men with the same soul…you should always be together….” The priest muttered to
the mismatched pair on the ground, and placed a hand on the tracker’s arm. “I’m sorry Vin,
Chris…I’m so sorry….” With a shaky breath, he stood and walked across to the
next body.
Buck
lay with an arm across his face and one outstretched, as if sleeping. Kneeling, Josiah watched him for a moment, then peered through the bright air until his eyes caught the
brown clad form of the boy. Still
muttering his oaths and apologies, he got to his feet with a grunt and made his
way to JD. The kid was slumped over a
banister in front of the burning clerk’s office.
As
with Vin’s own body, Josiah
lifted the boy up and carried him over to Buck.
“As close as brothers…I was jealous of you, my friends. You were so lucky to find…to find family
again.” He put the kid’s body next to
Buck’s, nestling the boy’s head so that it rested in the crook of Buck’s
outstretched arm. After wrapping Buck’s
arm around JD’s still form, the preacher raised his head once more.
Nathan’s
body lay close by, the healer’s face turned into the dirt where he lay on his
stomach, his shirt ripped out of his pants making the whip marks on his back
obvious to the world. Josiah tipped him
over, and ran a hand down the unlined face.
Brushing away the dust, he wondered at how young the healer’s face
looked.
“My old friend…the moral center that I so wanted to be like. How did you survive so long? And now, because of my failure, you too…you
too….My fault. Lord, I can’t.…” Unable
to continue, Josiah leaned down and gathered Nathan’s body up, pulling the dead
man to his feet. For a moment, the
garish scene of the preacher holding up the dead body in a hug caused Vin’s eagle’s body to
shudder.
Beneath
his claws, the flames rose hungrily…getting closer and closer.
Slowly,
as if his feet were embedded in molasses, Josiah dragged Nathan across to the
others. He placed the former slave’s
body in the middle, the center once more, and bowed his head in the direction
of the tableau.
When
he looked up again, Vin helped him search with his
sharp eyes, looking for the final figure on the ground. When his eyes caught the purple coat over by
the saloon, it seemed the last bit of light in the preacher’s eyes disappeared.
Heavy
steps took the older man across to where Ezra sat, the gambler’s back propped
up against the saloon wall, his chin to his chest. Josiah squatted before him and reached a hand
out to raise the young man’s head.
Ezra
stared back at him…and blinked. With a
bullet hole dead center in his forehead.
Josiah
gasped and fell backwards onto his rear, his hands flailing and failing to
catch him.
“Ezra?” He asked, “You…You’re…Are you?”
“Alive?”
Ezra’s mouth asked.
Josiah’s
mouth shut firmly. The voice that came
from the gambler’s lips was not his own. A grim smile lifted Ezra’s features.
“No,
Josiah, I am not alive. I’m dead. We all are.”
He paused, and blinked again, his green eyes empty. “Where were you?”
“Where
was… Ezra, you know where I was. Son,
please, I didn’t know…how could I have known….You must
believe me.”
“You
should have been here. You failed us,
Josiah. You let us die.”
“Let
you…No, Ezra, no, please don’t say that.
I just stopped to have one more drink, how could I have known? One more drink….”
“Just
like Hannah, Josiah. You let her fall
into madness, let father beat her until there was nothing left. You weren’t there….”
“No,
no,” Josiah gripped his head in his hands, trying to cover his ears from that
hateful voice. He knew that voice…it
wasn’t Ezra’s, but he knew it. Knew it
and hated it. All his young life that
voice had tormented him with its preaching….
“Just
like your son, Josiah. You let him face
those gallows without a word. Let him
die. You weren’t there to take care of
him when he was growing up…too lost in the bottle to care. Is that where you were today, Josiah? Were we less important to you than your own
comfort? One more drink?”
“Ezra…no…stop…This
isn’t you….please, stop.”
“Stop? I trusted you, Josiah. I thought you would be there. You said you would be there, even when God
was not….remember? You said that to Buck,
and you let him die. And
to JD. And Vin
and Nathan. But you weren't, were
you? You betrayed us, Josiah. I should have known….You always betray. Always fail….”
“NO!”
Josiah lurched to his feet, spinning around off the boardwalk drunkenly. “No more, please God, no more!” He was crying, falling down in his effort to
get away. When he finally had the
courage to turn around again, Ezra’s head was sitting back on his chest as if
it had never moved, his eyes closed, his limbs
lifeless. Around him, flames licked the
wooden walls of the saloon he rested against, catching his clothes.
Crying
out in fear, Josiah ran forward, heedless of the fire, and lifted Ezra into his
arms. Cradling the man to him, he made
it back into the street, screaming in agony and despair. His mantra of self blame was back, and he
apologized over and over again to them all, and for the man in his arms he
cried the most.
Finally,
just as the fire started to light the roof upon which Vin’s eagle sat, Josiah lay Ezra’s body down next to
Nathan’s. Gently, he stroked the young
man’s head to brush the hair away from his face – a father’s touch. He was bidding his son goodbye, again.
Above
him, the eagle screamed. He knew what
was coming.
Slowly,
Josiah lifted the heavy Smith & Wesson from out his holster.
“Lord,”
the preacher called, looking upwards at the smoke filled sky as he stepped
backwards into the street. “I
tried. I tried to commit my penance. To make up in what little way I could for the
death I have wrought, but I failed. I
failed again. I failed my sister…my
son…my friends….” He looked down at the figures before him, his voice shaking,
then he looked at Ezra, “and I betrayed my second chance…. I do not deserve the
peace that penitence brings, Lord. I only
deserve torment. I deserve hell.”
Vin
pulled and pulled against the sticky tar, the flames rising around him. No! Josiah, no!
With
a steady hand, Josiah brought the ugly pistol to his head, and with one last
look around at the burning town, pulled the trigger.
And
Vin was flying again, his wings pumping furiously at
the still hot air of the desert. The
town faded into the distance behind him, but the screams followed him wherever
he went. They were his
own screams.
Josiah!
How
no one could hear his screams was beyond him.
Surely someone passing the wagon must hear? Why wouldn't someone wake him up from this?
He
was winging over the prairies and plateaus, heading towards nothing. The eagle’s burn faded to blisters, his
singed feathers repaired. Whole again,
he was once more aloft.
Ready to travel into the third level of his own personal hell.
In
the distance a speck appeared on the otherwise empty plateau. He already knew who it was, but he could no more
avoid going there than he could avoid watching Josiah pull that trigger. Or stop that nightmare figure from shooting
Chris in the back.
Flying
more swiftly now, he circled around the man lying face down in the dirt below,
the tails of his red jacket flapping in the breeze around his legs. Next to him, Chaucer's blood mingled with his
master's, the loyal mount riddled with bullets from when he had tried to
protect what was already lost.
No
one else was visible for miles. Ezra had
died alone in the desert. Completely alone.
Winging
down, the eagle settled next to him, shrieking challenges at the vultures and
condors circling above. He would never
be able to fight them off, they were too big.
Didn't matter. He'd try anyway.
Tears
ran down the sleeping Vin's
face as he cried out silently in agony.
"Vin?"
The
eagle turned around, surprised. Ezra
looked back at him, green eyes still bright with life, though probably not for
long. The eagle hopped from foot to
foot, beak opening and closing, his feathers fluffing in agitation. Ezra had never been alive in the dream
before. The gambler smiled back weakly, watching him.
"I
thought you were....I thought I heard his voice....But I was only
dreaming. I only seem to dream out
here. I keep thinking I hear you and the
others coming. I mean, Vin and the others.
But, at least...at least...." he continued to smile, but the light
faded from his eyes, "at least they're not dying with me...because of
me...."
The
eagle shrieked again as Ezra coughed, and shut his eyes. He jumped forward onto
the gambler's arm, digging his talons into him, trying to remind him not to
give up. Very little reaction met his
efforts. The eagle jumped backed off,
wings stretched out and flapping, trying to get Ezra to open his eyes again.
Silently,
Vin whooped with success as they did. Ezra blinked up at him tiredly, his voice
barely a whisper.
"You going to irritate me until I die, bird? Seems fitting. But...better than being alone. I didn't want to die alone."
The
eagle bobbed its head, then shrieked as a powerful
wind blew abruptly across the plain, throwing him backwards and lifting him off
that ground. NO! He knew what was
happening, and, worse, he knew why. The
nightmare couldn't even let him have this.
No! Don't take me away from him! No!
He
could see Ezra still watching him, then those pale green eyes closing sadly as
the eagle was forced aloft by the wind. Vin fought against the dream with every breath, wings
strained to their maximum. Up above, the
condors and vultures laughed, their calls as
fingernails on a chalkboard.
Last
thing he heard was Ezra's whispered word, "Alone."
__________________________________
"NO!" Vin sat bolt
upright, sweat pouring down the sides of his face in rivulets, his matted hair
clinging to his face. Sunlight streamed
in through the flaps of the wagon, brighter than it would be if it were just
early morning. Every muscle ached with pain, every breath for air seemed to burn his throat
more. Pulling on his pants and boots, he
ran a hand through the sickly looking hair to get it out of his face and pushed
out of the wagon.
One
look at the sky told him it was already late in the morning, nearly
Upset,
he stumbled a bit, trying to get his balance. Equilibrium seemed to be failing
him lately, as his sleep had become more and more like being in a war. Reaching the corner of the building next to
the wagon, he peered down the much too bright street, looking for his
friends. His heart hammered in his chest
as he realized he couldn't see anyone but Buck and JD.
The
kid was laughing at something, gesturing with his hands, while Buck listened
with a smile.
"Vin? You all right there, son?"
The
tracker spun around, eyes wild, and cowered back a bit. Josiah frowned, his approach slowing to a
stop.
"Vin? My God, boy, you look
terrible!"
"Josiah?"
the name came out in a croak, and Vin swallowed,
wincing at the pain it caused. Josiah
came up beside him, reaching out to take Vin's
naked arm. His frown deepened as he felt
the heat coming off of the young man.
"Vin,
you've been ignoring us all week about this. You must let Nathan see to
you. This is getting ridiculous."
The
tracker wrenched his arm free and backed up, shaking his head. "He can't help, Josiah. This isn't something he can cure. It's not something anyone can cure."
"Vin, please, at least let's get you to take a bath. Something. We're all worried about you."
Vin
smiled at the comment, though it stabbed at something deep inside of him. Pain rippled around his neck, and he had to
bend over slightly, but he still managed to back up some from Josiah. The preacher shook his head.
"At
least tell me what is wrong. I promise,
I won't tell the others."
Vin's lower lip trembled, and he
shut his eyes. When he opened them
again, they seemed to have regained some of their coherence.
"Visions,"
he whispered, "I'm having visions. Horrible, horrible
visions." Suddenly, without
warning, he sprung at Josiah, gripping his shirt. "Promise me, preacher, promise me you
won't go away by yourself anymore.
Promise me that."
Josiah
frowned, his large carpenter's hands wrapping around Vin's as if to pry them off. "I don't think I can, Vin."
"Please,"
Vin buried his head in Josiah's shirt. Trying hard to
hide his shock at the normally taciturn tracker's behavior, the preacher
reached around tentatively to brush down the man's hair.
"I'll
try."
Vin
sniffed and nodded, then, as if realizing what he was doing, let Josiah
go. The preacher tried to hide his
continuing frown.
"Is
there anyone who might be able to help you? Anyone?
You can't go on like this, Vin."
"You
think I don't know that?" Vin spat back, leaning
against the building. Looking up at the sky, he watched the crows jump from
roof to roof. The preacher lowered his
eyes, sighed, and looked down the street where he saw that Buck had noticed him
talking to Vin. The ladies man raised his chin in a
question, and Josiah shook his head.
Clearly disappointed, Buck scratched at his face and looked back down at
JD.
"Josiah?"
Vin was looking at him again, "Just...out of
curiosity, where are Chris and Ezra?"
The
preacher stopped, and scratched at his head.
"Chris, well, he's out on patrol somewhere. And Ezra...well, I haven't seen him since he
lit out of here this morning."
Vin's eyes flew open, and he
turned sharply to look at Josiah.
"What do you mean, lit out of here this
morning?"
Josiah
shrugged. "A couple of hours ago, the telegraph operator ran to wake him
up. Next thing we know, Ezra is throwing
a saddle on Chaucer and taking off in the direction of Scrub Creek."
"By himself?"
The
question was delivered so tensely, Josiah began to worry himself. "Yes, of
course. Just told Chris he'd be gone a
couple of days and went. Come to think of it, he did seem out of sorts a
bit."
"What
was he wearing?"
"What
was he wearing?" Josiah repeated.
"Yes.
What was he wearing, damn it!"
"I
don't know...red, I think. His red jacket."
Vin's eyes widened, "I have
to go after him, Josiah. I have to!" the tracker shoved himself off the
building...and would have collapsed forward if the preacher hadn't caught
him. "No, no, he's in trouble,
preacher. I have to help him!" Vin muttered, hating being so weak and trying to pull
himself out of the other's hold.
Josiah
stood him on his feet, "Listen to me. You're not going anywhere like
this."
"Then
you go after him, please Josiah. Someone
has to. He can't be alone, you
understand? Please."
Josiah
tensed his jaw, and finally nodded. "All right, but only
if you let Nathan look at you."
Desperate,
Vin nodded.
"Fine, just go. Hurry."
Getting
his arm under Vin's
shoulder, the preacher half dragged, half pulled him across the street to
Nathan's clinic. The healer had been
leaning on the railing of his balcony, watching. When he saw Josiah bringing Vin across the road, his lips curled into a large smile and
he raced down the stairs to meet them.
Josiah explained the situation, passing the tracker across to him, then
went into the livery below to get
Leaning
morosely on Nathan's arm, the tracker wouldn't let the healer take him upstairs
until he saw Josiah head off. Once he
did, Vin lowered his head and let Nathan take
over. He hoped Josiah would be in time.
_______________________________________
Chris
played with the small fire he'd lit, taking advantage of the quiet morning to
spend some time away from the town...away from Vin. He had said he'd be on patrol, but really he'd
just followed Ezra out of town until breaking off to reach the top of a small,
tree-covered butte. There he set about
lighting a fire for breakfast while Solon wandered off to graze. Leaning back against a tree, he watched the
end of the small green branch he'd been using to poke the fire fade from red to
black in the cooling wind.
Son of a bitch tracker. Why the hell
wasn't he going to Nathan for help?
The
sound of thudding hooves caused him to look back down the valley to the road,
curious to see who was riding so quickly away from town. The answer puzzled him.
Josiah
was galloping full out on
But
Ezra had a good two hours start, and had himself been
riding quickly, though not at a gallop.
Ezra had been riding at a trot, clearly in a rush, but not wanting to
push Chaucer more than the horse was able.
Josiah, on the other hand, seemed to have no qualms about pushing
Grimacing,
Chris sighed and got up, heading towards Solon.
If Josiah was willing to push
_______________________________________
Vin
drank the tea Nathan had given him, grimacing at the taste. "What is
this?"
"Syrian Rue. Its supposed to revive you," Nathan replied, "give
you strength. You look like you need
it."
"Tastes foul."
"Yeah,
well, too bad. Drink it, then I want you to tell me what the hell is going on with
you. I can see your sick, but last time
you were sick you saw me before it got too bad.
Why have you been avoiding me this time?"
Vin
looked over at him from shadowed eyes, his skin unnaturally pale, "Because
you can't help me."
"Why not?"
"Because it's not my body that's making me sick."
Nathan
grimaced, "What does that mean?
Your body looks plenty sick to me.
Have you been eating?"
"Nathan,
you ever have a vision?"
It
was an odd question. Nathan frowned for
a moment before answering. "What's a vision?"
"Like
a bad dream, except that these ones come true."
Nathan
frowned more deeply, "I don't believe in that kind of stuff, Vin."
Vin
just nodded, knowing this already, and looked away. He was obviously finished
speaking to Nathan about what was wrong with him. The healer shook his head, annoyed
at himself. He didn't mean to be so dismissive, but it was a hard habit to
break, speaking his mind like that.
"Look,
regardless of what you think may be making you sick, visions or no visions, fact is, you are sick. You're not sleeping, that's obvious, and I'm
guessing food isn't staying down. So, let me help you."
Vin
glanced across at him, then looked back down at the mug in his hands. He'd managed to drink about a third of
it. That was enough. Setting it down, he stood up off the edge of the
cot he'd been sitting on.
"Whoa!"
Nathan shot up and put out a hand, "Where are you going?"
"You
can't help me, Nathan."
"Wait!
You didn't even let me try!"
"You
gave me a drink to revive me. It revived me. I'm going to go now."
"Where? Vin, you can barely walk. Please, stay here a while. At least let me give you a sleeping draught
for you to take tonight. You need
rest!"
"A sleeping draught?" Vin shook his
head. "I don't want to sleep,
Nathan. And I can't rest. Not anymore."
Nathan
gritted his teeth, watching uselessly as Vin weaved
his way to the clinic's door. "You
promised Josiah you'd let me look at you, Vin."
The
tracker stopped, looking back with tired eyes.
"And you looked. All you can
offer is something to make me sleep and some foul tasting drinks. I don't need or want either. So, I'm going to go now."
"Vin! Damn it to hell, you need help!"
Vin
stopped in the door, leaning against the frame and letting the cool autumn air
brush back his hair.
Nathan
sighed, "There has to be someone who can help, someone you can talk
to."
Vin
shook his head, "There's no one here who can do that," he replied
quietly.
"So
you're going to let this thing just kill you? Waste you away to nothing?"
Vin
looked back at him with haunted eyes, and shrugged. "See ya,
Nathan." With a nod, he disappeared from out the clinic door.
Nathan
sat down heavily and put his head in his hands.
_______________________________________
Ezra
slowed Chaucer down, looking vaguely around him at changing landscape. He'd headed north along the road, taking the
occasional fork, during which the red dust and heat of the plains had become a
green landscape of mesquite and juniper. He'd ridden up into the foothills of
what, for lack of a better term, could be described as mountains, and hardy
firs gathered thickly against the leeward sides. The early fall air had
become noticeably cooler up here, and he thanked his foresight for telling him
to wear his red woolen coat.
Chaucer
was panting heavily, unhappy at the pace he'd been forced to keep for such a
long length of time, and snorted a few times to show it. Patting the
chestnut on the neck, Ezra dismounted and walked alongside the horse for a
while.
"I'm
sorry, old friend," he soothed, one hand scratching at the horse's
withers, "but there is a need for speed. We need to get to Scrub Creek by
this evening or I may not be in time." In response, Chaucer merely
snorted again, bobbing his head up and down, and Ezra smiled.
"Sometimes,
Chaucer, I almost think you understand me. Something very few others
do." Again, Chaucer nodded his head and snorted, probably to
dislodge some flies but it still made Ezra smile again. Shutting his
eyes, he let Chaucer lead him for a while.
After
about ten minutes, he remounted and kicked Chaucer into a fast trot, aiming
towards a place where the firs opened up to admit the road. He knew that
about halfway into the forest he'd reach a fairly large stream where, as
everyone always does, he'd water Chaucer and eat a quick lunch.
__________________________________
Josiah
looked impatiently into the distance, trying to spot a sign of Ezra's red
coat. Pushing
Just
then, he thought he saw a flash of red as it neared the edge of the
trees. Smiling, and estimating that he could only be about an hour behind
Ezra now, he kicked
______________________________________
Solon
was now a pretty old horse, but he was still strong despite years of hard
work. Chris patted him affectionately on the side and continued in the
steady trot he'd maintained as he followed Josiah and Ezra's trail. Part
of him wondered if he might be intruding on something, following them like
this, but part of him was also pumped up with adrenalin at the chase. Fact
was, even if nothing was wrong, he was actually enjoying himself for the first
time since Vin had started to get really sick.
Idiot tracker.
Grimacing
slightly, the gunslinger wished it didn't bother him so much to see Vin getting sicker and sicker while all the time shutting
them out. Of course, had he thought
about it, Chris might have realized that it was something he did often himself,
but it was always different seeing it in someone else. Especially Vin. The man was quiet, and it was not often that
he let something get so close to him that it showed visibly on his face. For all the Ezra prided himself on having an
excellent poker face, when it came to hiding things, Vin
had the gambler matched. But something
was bothering the tracker so much that it was visibly and literally eating away
at him, and nothing the others had said or done all week had been of any help.
So,
any distraction at this point was a good distraction. Smiling, he encouraged Solon to pick up the
pace a little.
____________________________________
Vin
wandered slowly through town, ignoring the fact that most of the townsfolk were
now giving him a wide berth. Rumors that
the tracker had consumption or the fever circulated widely,
and many of the folk covered up their mouths or turned away as he passed.
Feeling
more and more like a leper, Vin wished he had the
energy to get on Peso and ride the hell out of this blasted town. But then he couldn't be sure that his visions
didn't come true. And he was going to do
everything in his power to make sure that they didn't come true.
If they didn't kill him first.
Looking up, he realized his wanderings had taken him to the edge of town, and to the steps of Josiah's church. A small smile lit upon his lips at almost the same time that a wave of dizziness swept over him. Gripping the stone railing on the side, he stumbled up the steps and into the cool interior.
_______________________________________
Ezra
slowed down once he was in the forest, his eyes watching the road for the holes
and ruts hidden by the trees' shadows. Now that he was almost halfway to
Scrub Creek, he found himself thinking more and more about the letter he'd
received. He had avoided thinking about it the entire ride, but the
quietude of his surroundings and the fact that he was keeping Chaucer to a slow
walk forced his mind to wander.
It
was pretty straightforward, sent by the sheriff of Scrub Creek, but its subject
matter had chilled him to the core. A woman had been found dead in a
stagecoach accident outside of the town, and his name had been found on an
envelope in her belongings. The described her as
an older woman with blond hair and blue eyes, probably in her late fifties, and
among her things were several letters all addressed to Maude Standish.
The assumption was made, therefore, that it was his mother. According to
the letter, Ezra had until tomorrow to go and identify the body and pick up her
things before they interned her in the ground and gave her things to charity.
He'd
instantly telegrammed to say he'd be there this evening then ridden off before
they had a chance to reply.
Looking
up at the trees, he tried to hold onto his emotions until he knew for sure.
But
all he could think about was that she might be gone.
Damn
her.
______________________________
After
about ten minutes, Josiah stopped and looked back up at him.
"Ready?"
"Not
long now, young 'un," Josiah promised, swinging up into the saddle.
Kicking the unhappy horse into a trot, the preacher looked down at Ezra's trail,
noting that it looked like the younger man was walking Chaucer now. Grinning,
Josiah estimated that he'd catch up to them at the stream.
_____________________________________
Chris entered the foothills just in time to see Josiah's form disappear into
the trees in the distance. The gunslinger was impressed, amazed at how
fast the preacher had to have been moving to be that far ahead. Josiah
was probably closer to Ezra than Chris was to Josiah now. Smiling, Chris
kicked Solon to move faster and the horse responded instantly. He could
feel his rider's excitement and was more than willing to run if he wanted him
to.
_______________________________________
Vin
looked up at the rafters of the church, surprised at the number of cobwebs he
could see up there. He guessed that Josiah wasn't too concerned with the
spiders, especially if they ate the ants and other pests that ate away at the
Church's wood supports.
The
door creaked open and the tracker shut his eyes. He'd come in here to
hide, thinking it would be the last place any of his friends would look for
him, but apparently he was wrong.
"Vin?" Nathan's voice was clearly worried, something which made the
tracker feel even worse.
"Yeah, Nathan. I'm here."
"I
have an idea. Since I know you won't talk to anyone here in town, I
thought maybe you might be able to talk to someone from outside. Such as someone from the Indian village? Maybe they'd
understand these visions of yours better than me."
Vin
hummed a little, thinking how best to reply. He'd had the same thought,
but, as he didn't really know the tribe all that well, he didn't feel right
about asking them for help. Plus, they didn't know him, other than the
couple of brief visits he'd had with them because of Claire Mosely,
so he wasn't sure they could really do anything. On top of that...he just
didn't feel well enough to go anywhere.
"I
was thinking," Nathan continued, coming around the edge of the front pew
to see Vin lying there, "that maybe I could get Kojay to come here. I know you're not well enough to
move, so I...."
"Kojay? The
chief?" Vin tried not to laugh,
especially since his chest hurt so much. "Nathan, you'd have to be
someone really special to get a chief of a tribe like Kojay's
to venture into a white town to help a white man."
"But
you saved his son," Nathan was not about to be put off.
"It
was my fault his son was nearly lynched in the first place. They probably
wouldn't have found them if it wasn't for me."
Nathan
shook his head, "You're not the only tracker out there, Vin. And would any
other tracker have brought him back alive?"
Vin
shook his head, then stopped when the movement made it ache loudly.
"Listen," he said, his anger at being bothered seeping into his
voice, "I don't even know Kojay, Nathan, except
for meeting him that one time. Plus, he's not a healer, he's a leader."
"Josiah
told me that Kojay helped him see some things more
clearly. Perhaps he can do the same for you?"
"Josiah...knew
them from before, Nathan. You forget that both you and he lived here before the
rest of us came. Plus, he spent time out there with them when that whole Mosely thing was happening. Me, I'd feel like an
intruder trying to get help when I barely know them."
Nathan
shook his head and gave an exasperated sigh, "So what do you suggest? That
we do nothing? I can't do nothing, Vin!"
"Learn!"
The
order was sharp and curt, and blood red eyes challenged the healer's annoyed
ones.
"Fine. Be an idiot and die in misery," Nathan replied, slamming a fist
into the side of the pew Vin was lying on and marching
out. Vin sighed and shut his eyes.
When the action threatened to bring back the images of his nightmares, he
opened them again to stare up at the ceiling. At least the spiders didn't
mess with his head.
__________________________________
Outside,
Nathan looked disgustedly around at the town.
Buck wandered up with JD, the two eyeing him with questioning looks.
"Any
luck?" Buck asked, indicating the church.
"He's
about as responsive as a log," the healer replied.
JD
smiled, "Does that make you the beaver?"
Both
men turned to look at him with a strange look.
JD smiled, "Gnawing away at the log. The beaver. That's what they do. They gnaw at logs. Get it?"
He looked at them both expectantly.
When they continued to look at him oddly, he threw up his hands.
"Oh
for...just forget it."
Buck
shook his head and looked back at Nathan, who had turned to stare at his feet.
"So what now?"
Nathan
shrugged, then turned to look at the livery. "Stay here and make sure he doesn't go
anywhere. I'm going to find someone to
help." Nodding at them both, he
strode purposefully towards the livery to collect his horse. Buck smiled faintly, happy to finally see
someone doing something. He just hoped
whatever Nathan was thinking would work.
________________________________
Ezra
dismounted as he reached the stream. It
was almost dry at this time of year, coming off the end of a long, dry summer,
but it still flowed. Most of the
riverbeds down on the plains dried up completely, not to be filled again until
the winter.
Kneeling
down, he scooped some of the icy water into a chafed hand and splashed the
liquid across his face. Next to him,
Chaucer leaned down to take a drink and Ezra smiled at his loyal horse.
Suddenly
the horse's head shot up and looked behind him.
The
movement startled Ezra enough that he nearly lost his balance. Catching himself on one arm, he turned to see
what the horse had heard.
The
road behind him was quiet as it wound out of the trees towards the fjord, but,
if he strained out the sound of the rushing water, he realized he could hear hoofbeats coming towards him.
Standing,
he pulled his rifle off of Chaucer's back and nestled it casually against his
shoulder, pointing down the trail.
A
few minutes later, Josiah came out of the trees on an exhausted horse.
"Josiah? What are you doing here?" he demanded
sharply. “Has something happened?”
Shaking
his head, the tired preacher dismounted and slapped
"I'm
catching up with you, that's what. What do you think I'm here for?"
Frowning,
Ezra walked over to Chaucer and stuck the rifle back into the rigging on the
saddle, his concern replaced by annoyance.
"Well, go home. You're not
wanted."
"Ouch,"
Josiah touched a hand to his chest and did a poor job of trying to look
hurt. It was his way of saying that he
wasn't going anywhere.
Rolling
his eyes, the gambler knelt back down to clean more of the dirt off of his
hands and face. The two horses moved a
little further downstream. At one point, Chaucer looked up and around him again
as if he heard something, but, seeing nothing immediately amiss, went back to
his drink. Ezra shook his head at his
blurred reflection.
"What
do you want Josiah?"
"Honestly,
Ezra, it wasn't my idea to follow you. I
came because Vin insisted."
This
got the gambler's attention, and he turned to look at Josiah with concern again,
"Vin?"
"He
went a little crazy when I mentioned you rode off this morning. I had to promise to come after you so that he
wouldn't get on a horse and come himself." Josiah smiled, "I even got
him to see Nathan as part of the deal."
Ezra
absorbed this for a moment, before sighing and standing, "He was worried
about me? Why?"
"No
idea, but, truth be told, he was so earnest in his conviction that it spurred
me to actually work hard to catch you. I
admit I feel a little ridiculous now."
Ezra
looked at the sheen on
Josiah's
face screwed up a little, "Yes, I know."
"I
don't have time to wait for him to recover sufficiently for you to travel the
rest of the way with me, Josiah. So, best if you just go home. Tell Vin you saw me
safely this far and that I was well.
That should be enough. Glad you
got him to see Nathan, though. That was
good of you. Not that I imagine it will
do much good."
Josiah
pursed his lips and looked across at
Ezra
just arched an eyebrow. Josiah smiled.
“Will
you tell me why are you in such a rush to get to Scrub
Creek?"
The
gambler didn't answer immediately, a little surprised by the plain spoken
question. He’d expected Josiah to
approach it more carefully, though he had known it was coming After a moment, he reached into his
pocket to retrieve the letter he'd gotten this morning. Walking over, he handed it to Josiah then
turned away, crossing his arms over his chest, his chin dropping to his chest.
"Oh…,"
the preacher whispered as he read the note. "Ezra, son, I’m so sorry. I
can’t believe...." He paused before finishing the sentiment, and Ezra
looked back at him curiously.
“Hold
on a moment,” Josiah scanned the note several times before frowning in
confusion. Finally, he looked across at the younger man. "Ezra? Did you see who signed this?"
The
gambler turned back to face Josiah, then took a couple
of steps to look over the man's shoulder at the note.
"Sheriff
Teeley.
So?"
"So
that can't be right."
Ezra
looked up at the older man, who was frowning deeply now.
"Why
can't that be right?" he asked, watching Josiah's eyes carefully.
"Because Scrub Creek doesn't have a sheriff. You know that, don't you? It's a large enough town that they were
actually awarded a police force last spring by the governor. The chief constable is a man by the name of
Grayson. Remember? Mary ran several days of articles on it, as a
sign that our area of the world is growing and settling."
Ezra
grabbed the paper back out of Josiah's hands and reread it.
"And
besides," Josiah continued, "I thought you told me your mother was
somewhere in
"Well,
yes, but, you know how she is, she often shows up in unexpected places,
although...." Ezra's face was
completely confused now.
"Even
Maude can't move so fast as to be in
Ezra
looked up at Josiah, his brow deeply knitted, "I don't think I
understand."
"Not
sure I do either, but I know that there is something wrong with that
letter."
The
gambler's jaw tensed, and he looked back at
Chaucer. For the first time, he noticed
the horse seemed agitated by something. "What is going on, Josiah?"
"It
must be a hoax, son. A
cruel hoax. I think you've been
had." Josiah's face was cold. Ezra's eyes darted around, looking around at
the trees. Chaucer was walking back to
his rider's side, followed by the younger
"Josiah,
I think we should get out of here," the gambler hissed quickly, moving to
take hold of Chaucer's bridle.
"Hands
away from the guns, both of you!" a voice boomed from nowhere.
Before either man could react, five men stepped out from behind the
trees, guns trained and ready. In the
middle, one man stepped forward to point a rifle directly at Ezra's head.
___________________________________
"Well
now, I'm guessing you'd be Ezra Standish?"
the man holding the rifle asked. Ezra’s eyebrow rose in response as both he
and Josiah held their hands away from their sides.
"Ezra
Standish? Oh no,” Ezra replied slowly, “I’m someone else entirely. The man your looking
for is about 6 foot four, red hair and wears a lot of denim. Head west…can’t miss him.”
The
man holding the rifle chuckled. "Ah now, that's what we like to see, eh
boys? A sense of humor in a man about to meet his maker.”
“Oh,
well, I’ve plenty more where that came from,” Ezra replied, talking very fast. “How about I tell them to you over dinner
sometime…maybe seventy, eighty years from now?”
The
rifleman chuckled again, and Ezra risked a half hearted smile. Josiah sighed heavily and looked skywards.
“I’d
love to, but I’m afraid you’re not my type.
Nevertheless, seeing as your such a good sport,
falling into our trap so nicely and all, I'm willing to offer you the choice of
how you die." The black barrel of the rifle shifted position up and down
with the options. “Head…or
heart?”
Ezra
swallowed, eyes glued to the rifle.
"Um, neither, if you wouldn't mind. And, uh, seeing as your being
so gentlemanly about this, if you'd be so good as to let my friend go, I'd be
much obliged."
The
smile fell slightly form the bandit's face, and he glanced at Josiah. "No, sorry. Not
my fault this idiot decided to follow you." He scowled at Josiah, who was
staring blankly over the rifleman’s shoulder.
"Should have left when Standish here told you to,
old timer. We gave you every
opportunity." Josiah's lips lifted
into a small smile, then he returned to staring
blankly.
Ezra,
meanwhile, continued trying to talk their way out of this.
"Josiah's
not worth the bullets, good sir. Believe me.
Perhaps we could make a deal here?"
The
bandit turned back to him, the smile back in place.
"Well,
hell, seeing as your about to die, boy, I'm not sure what kind a deal you could
make."
Ezra's
lips twitched, "If you let him go....I can tell you where you can find
almost a thousand dollars in cash."
"A thousand?" That perked
the man up a bit, and he looked across at Josiah. "Just for him?"
"It's
not far from here, in the town I just came from."
"
Ezra
frowned, "Not even for a thousand dollars?"
The
bandit laughed, "Well, seeing as we've been paid three times that to kill you,
I think we can live without it."
Both
Josiah and Ezra's eyes widened, and the preacher looked long and hard at his
companion. Ezra just stood with his
mouth open.
"H....how
much?" the gambler gasped.
The
bandit's smile deepened, threatening to become a smirk, "Three thousand.”
“Three…thousand…dollars, just for me?” Ezra was clearly having trouble processing
this. “But…”
“Just you? Oh no,” the
rifleman. “Not just you, Standish.” The man’s eyes changed, from warm to ice cold
as Ezra watched. “We were hired to kill
you and your horse…the horse
first."
Ezra’s
eyes widened, and he was momentarily struck dumb as he
looked at the man, then at Chaucer and back again.
Then
all thought fled as his hands went to his sides, and probably would have
reached his guns if Josiah hadn't been ready to grab his arms. Fighting the bigger
man's hold, Ezra yelled in frustration and glared at the assassin with a now uncontained
fury. The assassin was chuckling again,
not surprised. He'd guessed from the
orders he'd gotten that the gambler's horse had some sort of special meaning
for him.
"You bastard! My horse? You can't!"
Ezra continued to fight Josiah's hold, “Damn it, let
me GO Josiah!” Upon hearing Ezra’s
command, the preacher let him go. He had
just wanted to make sure the gambler didn't make any stupid moves. Ezra was calm enough now that, though he was
still visibly shaking, he didn't look ready to go for his guns again.
"Well,
isn't that interesting, eh boys? Someone
grab the beast, will ya? Bring him over here?"
Ezra
flinched at the command, but he didn’t do anything more than grip his hands
into fists as he watched one of the other assassins move to gather up Chaucer,
who was standing a little off to the side with Quincy. When the man got close, the chestnut reared
up angrily, forcing the man back.
"No! Chaucer!" Ezra's hands itched to grab his guns, "Chaucer,
stop!"
The
command had an immediate effect, and the chestnut backed up, shaking his head
slightly and whinnying angrily. The
downed man looked across at his leader, who was frowning but shrugged. Sighing, the man got up, put his gun away
and, more tentatively this time, reached in and grabbed the reins. Chaucer bared his teeth, but suffered himself
being led next to where Ezra and Josiah stood.
"Good
boy," Ezra said quietly as Chaucer looked at him. The horse snorted, bowing his head to eat a
small tuft of grass hidden inside spattering of dead leaves. The man holding
his reins jerked the animal's head up roughly, and Chaucer fought the hold,
ready to challenge him again. Ezra shouted
his name again, which caused the unhappy chestnut to give him a somewhat
baleful stare, but he didn’t fight anymore.
Ezra, his voice weaker now, looked back at the leader.
"Why him? He’s not a threat to you.”
The
assassin shrugged, "I assume because he's a part of who you are. You do seem to be attached to him. You weren't nearly so reactive when I said
I'd have to kill your friend here."
He jerked his chin in the direction of Josiah.
The
gambler looked at Chaucer, then sideways at the preacher before looking back
again at the leader. The assassin seemed
to be enjoying his captive's distress and let Ezra gather his thoughts. After a moment, more composed, the gambler
spoke again.
"Can
you at least tell me who?"
"Who what?"
"Who
ordered you to kill me and my horse. And why?"
"Does
it matter?"
"Yes. After all," Ezra reached a hand to brush
along Chaucer's hide, the surrounding assassins watching him like a hawk,
"it is possible you have the wrong man.
I admit I find it hard to believe I am worth three thousand
dollars."
The
head assassin smiled. "Oh no, it's you, boy. I quote: Ezra Standish, sometimes Spencer,
sometimes Simpson or Solomon, the gambler of
"Don't
know?" Ezra tried to still his
shaking hand as he continued to find support in Chaucer.
"We
were hired by someone who looked like a butler.
A man in a dark suit, nothing particularly special. He was a real stiff character, though, had
one of them English accents. All proper sounding.
He hired us. Told
us to bring you and the head of your horse back with us."
"The
head of..." Ezra shook his head.
Next to him, Josiah had shifted slightly so that one arm brushed against
the younger man's. Ezra didn't
notice. Instead, he shut his eyes, then opened them to look back at the assassin, "What
if...what if I could get you two thousand dollars? Would you let Josiah and my horse go?"
"Two
thousand...? Back in
"Yes. And I could potentially get you another
thousand, though I'm not sure where that money is at the moment. Wouldn't be hard to find
though. And that would not be in
"Wow,
three thousand dollars? And all we'd
have to do for two thousand of that is get past Chris Larabee?" The man laughed again. At the sound, Ezra felt any hope
dwindle. The assassin shook his
head. The gambler licked his lips and
tried to look encouraging.
"Mr.
Larabee...does not know how long I am to be
gone," he tried. "If you were
fast, he might never notice."
"Fast?"
the assassin's eyes narrowed and he looked at Josiah. "Tell me, Standish,
who do you think this one would go to first if we to let him go? Not to mention that, since I'm assuming you
sent a telegram to Scrub Creek, your friends have probably already learned of
the hoax, or will soon, from the real sheriff," he looked with irritation
at Josiah again, "sorry…chief constable…of Scrub Creek. There's no time, Standish. And as for fast, we all know that Larabee is probably faster than all of us."
"You
could...you could tie Josiah up and leave him here. And Chaucer...."
"The
horse is part of your price, Standish. Your body and his
head. And I'm afraid both your times are up. I choose the head,
Standish, that way you'll die the same way as your horse." Grinning, he
raised the rifle up to point at Ezra's head, and barked one last order to the
man holding Chaucer.
"Kill
the horse. And use the gambler’s own
rifle."
The
man holding his reins dropped them, reaching for the rifle tucked in the
saddle. Chaucer let him, then started
backing up to get away from the stranger, as if he sensed what was about to
happen. His large eyes were fixed on the
assassin as the stranger pulled back the hammer and lifted it. The leader smiled as he saw Ezra’s breath
quicken. The gambler’s mind was racing…he
had to think of something…he had to think of SOMETHING….
"Wait!"
Ezra threw his hands up, just as the area filled with gunshots.
___________________________________
The
leader went down first, the bullet entering his skull with pinpoint
accuracy. Almost simultaneously, the one
holding the rifle on Chaucer fell as a bullet ripped through his back. It had happened so quickly, the other three
killers could only gape as Chris Larabee emerged out
of the trees like a wraith, his long black duster
blown up like angel wing's behind his back, the gun in each hand smoking,
thumbs pulling back the hammers to fire again.
Josiah
-- who'd seen Chris signal to him just before attacking -- pulled out his old
Smith & Wesson and started shooting at the man nearest to Chris’s position. The gunman crumpled into the river, a bullet
to his leg and one to his gun hand.
Ezra,
who'd not seen Chris nor noticed Josiah's attempt to alert him, had stepped
backwards in surprise as the leader fell at his feet, then stumbled as he felt
a bullet enter his right shoulder, shot by the fourth gunman. With a yell, he pulled out his colt with his
left and fired…and was slightly surprised to see the shooter fall. Ezra hadn’t even aimed.
Chris,
meanwhile, had been forced to duck behind a tree as the last and final gunman, screaming
something unintelligible, sprayed all his bullets at him and Josiah – who dived
to the ground -- before turning and
running for Quincy. The young gelding
had retreated further down the stream, and the gunman saw him as his best means
of escape.
And
it was over.
Ezra
fell back on one knee, hand gripping his bleeding shoulder. His pained eyes found Chris, watching as the
gunslinger walked among the downed men like Hades around a battlefield,
checking to see who was alive. Josiah
got down on his knees next to him and tried to see the extent of the gambler's
wound.
"Let
me see," the preacher said softly, putting his hand on top of Ezra's as
the gambler continued to ignore him and watch Chris. The words seemed to bring Ezra back to the
present, and he slowly lifted his hand up as Josiah peeled back the red
jacket. Chris, meanwhile, was kneeling
next to the one Josiah had hit. The man
was moaning incoherently, holding his bleeding hand to his chest and staring up
at Chris with wild eyes.
"Where
were you hired," Chris hissed, grabbing the man’s collar. “What town?”
The
assassin blinked up at him a few times, tears rolling down his face from the
pain. After a moment, his red face began
to smile and he shook his head. Chris
gritted his teeth and grabbed the man by his jacket collar, pulling him up. The man groaned and shut his eyes.
"I
can make that pain ten times worse, and still you won't die," he promised
harshly. "Tell me what you know!"
The
man opened up his eyes and smiled again.
Chris shook him a little, and the man cried out in pain, his mouth
opening. Chris stopped, looking inside
the man's mouth as the killer kept it open for him.
"God
in Heaven," the gunslinger whispered, shoving the man roughly back down to
the ground into the water. The killer was making a sound like he was laughing
now. Chris turned to look at Ezra, who
was still watching him as Josiah bound some cloth around his shoulder. Chris shook his head.
"Ezra...this
man has no tongue."
The
gambler just stared at him, having absolutely no answer for that. Part of him had begun to wonder if any of
this was really happening. Josiah had
stopped wrapping the gambler’s shoulder at the news, and he looked at the
gunslinger as Chris walked over to the man
"Chris?"
Ezra got back up to his feet with Josiah's help, watching as Chris stood in the
middle of the mess running a hand through his short cropped hair. The gunslinger dropped the hand and looked
back at Ezra.
“What
the hell are you into?” Chris asked darkly.
Ezra
just stared at him, non-plussed. He looked down at the carnage, then up again
at Chris. He shook his head slowly.
“I…have
no idea. Really. None. This…this has to be a mistake.” He swayed a little, and Josiah wrapped an arm
around him. The fact that Ezra didn’t
refuse proved how out of sorts he was.
Chris
sighed, blowing the air out his cheeks, then shrugged, looking at the leader. "Well,
we’ll take these back with us," he said quietly, "perhaps we can get the
two still alive to point at a map.” He
looked into the trees, “We should find their horses.”
_________________________________
Buck
found them returning on the road, the gregarious gunslinger overjoyed to find
them all together. Ezra was obviously
hurt, but at least he was alive and nothing could have made Buck happier. The ladies’ man explained that the telegraph
operator had found him and JD, hurriedly saying that the note Ezra must have
gotten this morning was a hoax.
Apparently, Constable Grayson of Scrub Creek had no idea about any
Sheriff Teeley or any dead woman with the name of
Standish, and Buck had ridden out after him.
"You're
damn lucky, Ez," Buck noted, nodding at Josiah
and Chris. "If Vin hadn't sent
Josiah after you this morning...."
Grunting
a little as he adjusted the makeshift sling on his arm, Ezra nodded. "I know," he said softly, "I
have a great deal to thank Mr. Tanner for."
"How
is he?" Chris asked.
"Not
good," Buck answered solemnly "Nathan went to fetch help,
but...who knows." He shrugged,
trying not to show how much he was bothered. "Come on, we should get
back. JD's watching town all
alone." Pulling hard on Gray's
reins to turn the horse around, he started back at a good clip towards
town. Chris moved forward to match him, then forced him to slow down with a nod at Ezra.
The
gambler grimaced, annoyed that he was forcing them to
go slowly. Josiah came up beside him,
reaching a hand out to steady him as he listed to the side again. Ezra smiled in thanks, and lowered his eyes.
"Josiah...I,
uh, I know that back there it may have seemed as if I cared more about Chaucer...."
"Stop,
Ezra. I know," Josiah smiled.
"Well,
still, I'd like to explain," Ezra looked up again.
"Ezra,
you love that horse. Anyone who knows
you knows that."
"Yes,
but...."
"But
he's a horse. Against a gun, he is
helpless, just like a child. He needs
protection, and the idea of someone wanting to hurt him is incomprehensible,
because he is so helpless and harmless. So, you reacted the way you did. You don't need to protect me the same
way," Josiah shrugged.
Ezra
smiled. Josiah did get it. He should have known he would.
"Of
course," a smile spread across Josiah's face, "it would be nice to
know that, had I died, you might at least have mourned me as much as
him."
Ezra
frowned, "Well, I...."
The
preacher sighed, knowing full well he was baiting the other man as he leaned in
close. "You do care, don't you,
son? Maybe just a
little?"
“Josiah,
of course I…” Ezra trailed off as he saw the knowing smile on the older man’s
face. His eyes narrowed to shoot the
preacher an annoyed look. Lord, how he
hated Josiah sometimes.
"Forget
it. You're too irritating to care
about." Ezra said.
"Oh,
come now. You were going to bare your
soul to me, tell me how much you cared.
Don't stop now."
"I
think I'd rather pass out from blood loss at this moment. It'd be less painful."
Josiah
laughed, and Ezra smiled.
"Ungrateful,"
Josiah accused, still chuckling.
"Overbearing!" Ezra shot back.
“Stubborn goat!”
“Meddlesome fishwife!”
“Brat!”
“Old fogey!”
Josiah
looked startled, then smiled wickedly.
"My, my. I wonder whether your mother
would agree."
"Oh
lord," Ezra bowed his head and shifted forward in the saddle, "that
was low, Josiah. Very low." The movement upset his precarious sense of
equilibrium, and the gambler suddenly found the word blurring as he fell
sideways. Josiah grabbed his good arm
and pulled him up again.
"It'll
be all right, son," Josiah said quietly as Ezra's world spun,
all sense of joviality gone. "I've got you." When Ezra felt stable
again, he thanked the preacher with a nod and tried to take deep enough breaths
to prevent the bile that had risen in his throat from going any further.
"I
really do have a great deal to thank Vin Tanner for," the gambler
whispered as Josiah rode forward to ask Chris to slow down some more.
_______________________________________
"Vin?" Nathan placed a cool hand on Vin's fevered face, his face tight with worry.
He found the tracker stretched out along one of Josiah's pews, unconscious, and
he hadn't moved since Nathan had arrived. JD stood off to one side,
trying not to react at the site of the wasted man.
Sensing
the kid's nervousness, Nathan tried to smile over at him.
"He's
not gone, JD. His body has just finally shut down on him. With a
little work, we can get him awake again, I'm sure."
"He
looks like he's dying," said a different voice over Nathan's
shoulder. The healer sighed and looked back up at the man he hoped would
be the tracker's salvation.
"He
won't let me give him any medicine, and he's neither eating
or sleeping. None of us can figure out why. All I know is
what I told you. It's as if...." he stopped, not wanting to admit he
thought Vin might want to die.
Kojay smiled kindly and knelt down to place his own hand on Vin's drawn and pale face. Chanu stood off to one side, his face hidden in the
shadows. The pain in Vin's
features was clear, and the young Indian gritted his teeth at the realization
that there was nothing he could do to help. He was a warrior, much like Vin, and he hoped this sickness was something he could help
Vin to fight. But Vin looked like he didn't want
to fight. He was just letting it kill him. Chanu
finally had to turn away, annoyance and some anger flitting in his eyes.
"Do
you know what the visions were about?" Kojay
asked quietly, watching the way Vin's
eyes rolled beneath his eyelids. The boy was dreaming.
"No.
Though, the way he talked this morning makes me think it has to do with us,
somehow."
Kojay's eyes glanced at Nathan, then he nodded.
"Tell me more about him."
Nathan
shrugged. "Not much that I know, really. He doesn't talk much
about his past, least, no more than any of the rest of us." Nathan
shrugged, feeling the familiar tightening of the skin on his back from the old
scars.
"So,
you know nothing?"
Nathan
studied Vin's face, and
frowned when he saw the tracker grimace at something in his sleep.
"I
know that his mother died when he was just a boy. I know nothing about
his father, if he had one that was around. You get the impression that he
wasn't. I also know he spent some time on an Indian reservation or two.
Learned how to hunt and track from them." The healer glanced at Chanu, who was looking quietly out of one of the high
peaked windows in the church. Nathan shrugged, "Afterwards, he made his
living as a bounty hunter for a while. About five years back, he was
framed for a murder he didn't do, and, when they tried to hang him, he took
off. Been on the run ever since."
Kojay smiled again, noting the lazy way which the healer mentioned the
murder. There was no doubt in Nathan's voice, which worked with the
impression Kojay and Chanu
had gotten from the tracker all that time ago.
"You
know quite a lot," the chief remarked. "The way you talk about him
tells me more about him than any facts you may have learned."
Nathan
snorted slightly, then gave a somewhat bashful
smile. "Yeah well, however much help that is, that's all I can tell
you."
"More than enough. Thank you Nathan."
"Sure."
Kojay continued to watch the healer for a moment, as if waiting for
something, then raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Oh!"
realization dawned on Nathan. "Right, okay. C'mon JD. Let's you and
I let these good folks see what they can do."
Kojay turned to look at Chanu, who was still
staring out of the window. "You go too, son. I think I may know what
is wrong, and it will not require your presence for a while. If you like,
you can return home."
Chanu shook his head, but picked up his bag. "I'll be outside
with the others. We'll make camp nearby, out of sight of these people,
but close enough for you to find us." Nodding once, he shouldered
the bag and followed JD and Nathan outside where two other warriors from the
reservation were waiting with the horses.
Kojay looked around until he saw the chair Josiah kept near the side of the
dais. Pulling it over, he sat down and tried pushing on Vin's shoulder to wake him
up. He tracker didn't respond. Sighing,
the chief sat back to wait.
______________________________________
As
Nathan stepped out of the church, he saw Chris and the others rolling in, and
ran the rest of the way to meet them as Ezra nearly fell out of his saddle.
"Jesus!
What happened!" he demanded, catching Ezra as Chaucer came to a
halt. The gambler let himself be eased out of the saddle to the ground, then leaned heavily on the healer, one arm around Nathan's
shoulders.
"Came
across some bad guys," Chris deadpanned. "Ezra didn't move fast
enough when the firing started." He smiled thinly at the barely upright
Ezra, who glared back with red-rimmed eyes. Nathan leaned across and played
with the messy bandage on Ezra's hurt shoulder and made the appropriate
clucking noises of dismay as the gambler hissed painfully at the touch. Josiah,
meanwhile, worked with Buck to get the bodies off of the other horses.
The one man who was still alive got thrown over a shoulder and taken to the
jail. He'd be tended to after Ezra.
"Well,
let's get ya to the clinic," Nathan sighed,
starting to pull Ezra with him. The gambler, however, dug in his heels.
"No,
wait," he croaked, his voice hoarse from the strain of staying upright and
awake, "Where's Vin? I need to see him."
Nathan
frowned, annoyed as Ezra refused to keep moving. "He's in the church, but
he's out of it. Plus, There's Kojay in there with him, and I don't want you disturbing
them."
Ezra
shook his head, undaunted. "I don't care who is in there. You take me to see him."
"I
don't...."
"Treat
Ezra in the church, Nathan." Chris's voice was not demanding, it was
just a statement, as if he'd just announced it was going to rain.
Whenever he spoke like that, people couldn't help but respond, whether they
wanted to or not.
And
Nathan was no exception.
"Fine,
but you go in there and explain to the chief why we're disturbing them."
Pulling Ezra's good arm up higher across his shoulders to support him better,
the healer stomped off in the direction of Josiah's home, dragging Ezra with
him.
"What
did happen?" JD asked, helping Chris with the horses. He was tying
the reins of the bandit's mounts they'd ponied in to
the railing outside the jail.
The
gunslinger shook his head. "It was an ambush, designed perfectly to
catch Ezra - knew exactly what would throw him. If Josiah and I hadn't
shown up..." he shook his head. "After we get these boys
settled down, I'm going to follow them to the church. I want to know how Vin knew there would be trouble too."
JD
shook his head, reaching up to stroke Chaucer's nose, "Nah, Chris. I
wouldn't. I get the feeling that Vin doesn't
really know anything."
The
gunslinger frowned, looking as JD took Chaucer's reins in one hand and Buck's
Gray's reins in the other. The kid stopped when Chris called him back.
"What
do you mean? He sent Josiah after Ezra, didn't he?" he pulled Solon
and Quincy behind him as he caught up to JD.
"Sure,"
JD shrugged. "But you ask me, all this talk
of visions is silly."
Chris
smiled, his expression surprised. Of all people he thought JD would be
one of the first to accept the idea. JD shook his head, not missing
Chris's reaction.
"Look,
I know you all think I'm just some dumb kid from the East who doesn't know
anything. But, you know, we have our share of odd things out there – you
ever heard of the Salem Witch Trials? Well,
I've seen women shake themselves into a tizzy because of supposed visions, and
men who swear they see ghosts at every turn. I may even have seen a few things
out of the corner of my eyes myself. But you know, half the time, the things
people see are just their own fears and memories playing with their
minds. They want to see their dead mother at a séance, they see
her. They want to know their son is okay on that far way sea voyage to
Buck
laughed as he jogged over to catch up with them, having heard the end of JD's
little speech. He took Gray's reins and patted the horses' hide.
"Damn
kid, maybe it should be you in there talking to Vin,
sounds like you got this all figured out."
JD
glared at the ladies man, then, with a snort, pulled Chaucer behind him and
into the stable. Chris shook his head at Buck's sly wink.
"Whatever
is wrong....Whatever Vin thinks he sees," Chris took a deep breath, then
stated firmly, "he better not die because of it."
The words wiped the smile from Buck's face as Chris followed JD into the stable.
___________________________________________
Vin
screamed and sat up, sweat pouring down his face and over the stubbled jaw. For a moment, he didn't know where he
was, having expected to see his wagon, but soon the shape of the church roof's
rafters and the red and yellow light streaming in from the altar window came
into focus.
"Shhh," someone soothed, lifting up the cool cloth from
Vin's lap that had moments
before been lying on the tracker's forehead. "It's all right, Vin
Tanner. Calm down." The cloth was placed back on Vin's forehead as the tracker
slumped back, though he didn't lie down the whole way.
The
unfamiliar voice caused Vin to frown as he turned to
look into the face of the man sitting near him. His eyes widened in
recognition.
"Ko...Kojay?"
"Yes,
tracker, it's me." His aged lips quirked into a smile at the confused gaze
Vin have him, and he shook his head.
"Nathan came to get me. I admit, I was a
little wary coming into this town again after all that has happened between our
people, but Chanu was going to come whether I did or
not, so...I came."
"Chanu...?" Vin shook his
head, and immediately regretted it as the headache he felt drummed even louder
against his temples. Raising a hand to his head, he loosened his frown
and looked around for the chief's son, wanting to tell them that it wasn't
safe. The townsfolk still didn't trust Kojay's
people. They shouldn't be risking their lives just for him.
But
instead, he saw Ezra.
"Ezra? Oh my God, he looks...Is he okay...?" Vin
stared back at Kojay, his eyes now bright with fear.
The
gambler was sleeping on the opposite pew, his arm tightly bandaged to his side
and dried blood still on his travel stained clothes. He had refused to
leave the church even though Vin was still asleep,
and, finally, Kojay had expressed that it was all
right that Ezra stay. So long as he remained quiet. Such an order
was easily complied with as the gambler fell asleep almost instantly upon
winning his argument. Vin, though, could only
see the bloody bandage and the pale, fevered face.
"Your
friend will be fine, Vin. In fact, he's doing
better than you at the moment."
Vin
blinked, his eyes blurring, and looked back at the older man, "Better than
me? What happened?"
Kojay chuckled, "With you, or the gambler?"
"With
Ezra, what happened?"
The
Indian shrugged, standing up slowly to walk over to the other man. After a
brief moment, he looked back at Vin.
"Looks like he was shot in the shoulder."
Vin
repressed an urge to get angry, and simply shook his head, "No, I can see
that. I mean, how did it happen? Do you know?"
Kojay shrugged again and crossed back to his chair to sit. Looking at Vin's eyes, he tilted his head
slightly.
"No.
Do you?"
Vin's mouth fell open, ready to
answer that he didn't, but then bits and pieces of his nightmare came back to
him. Finally, he had to look away, his blue-gray eyes falling to the
floor.
"This
morning, all I could think of was that he was in danger. I sent someone
after him. But...but," he shook his head. "I can't
explain it. Right before I woke up, I
dreamt I saw Ezra lying on a dirt plain in the middle of nowhere, all by
himself, dying alone. He was...he was so alone." He shuddered.
Kojay frowned, looking at Ezra again. "A plain, you say? Strange. There are twigs and leaves on that man's
clothes and hair. He smells like a forest to me, not a plain."
Vin
blinked, then started to shake. "A forest?
Of course, he was on his way to Scrub Creek." With a moan, he pulled
his arms around himself and sat up, bowing his head to his knees on the wooden
bench. Under his breath, Kojay could hear him muttering
that it wasn’t over. It hadn't come to pass yet.
Kojay sighed and patted the tracker's shoulder. "You're not well,
Vin Tanner. Why don't you explain to me why not."
Vin
shuddered again, partly from the sickness and partly from fear. "Visions.
I think I've been having visions," he whispered hoarsely.
"Yes,
I know. Tell me about them."
Bracing
himself, Vin did just that, his voice rising and
falling with the tremors that wracked his thin frame. The whole time, Kojay just listened, his eyes darkening at the descriptions
of Chris being shot in the back, and Josiah returning to a burning town.
Over on the other pew, Ezra opened his eyes and listened as well, having woken up
not too long after Kojay had checked on him.
After a while, the gambler shut his eyes again, not sure he wanted to hear any
more, especially when Vin mentioned the final part of
the nightmare.
Kojay's eyes never left Vin's
face while he spoke. After the tracker finished, he took in a deep breath and
sat back in his chair. When Kojay didn't speak again for a while, Vin
leaned forward again to rest his head on his knees again, content to wait while
Kojay simply thought.
Over
in the other pew, Ezra fell asleep again.
Finally,
Kojay sighed and looked at Vin
again.
"Your
friend Nathan," he said slowly, "he thinks a great deal of you, as
does your friend over there." He indicated Ezra with his head.
"They both argued a great deal about wanting to stay here by your
side."
Sitting
up again, Vin just shrugged.
"The
others feel the same, especially Chris Larabee.
He stood and watched you sleep while the others argued with Ezra, his eyes filled
with the same anger that I know rests in the eyes of my son."
Kojay shook his head, "And the others too. The boy, JD, he jumps around
with a nervous energy of a terrified dog, while the tall one, with the
moustache, he has become short tempered and refuses to meet anyone's
eyes. And then there is the quiet one, Josiah. He just sits and
stares, depression drowning his strength."
Vin
was barely listening, not all that concerned.
"Nathan,
he told me a little about you. He told me that your mother died when you
were young, though he didn't know about your father. Was your father
there?"
Vin
shrugged again.
Kojay pursed his lips. "Nathan also told me you lived on a
reservation for a time, which I could already guess from the way you handled
yourself, following Chanu."
Vin
grimaced at the memory. Kojay seemed not to
notice.
"Thank
you for bringing him home, by the way. We still haven't worked out
everything between us, but I am happy to have the chance. I owe that to
you."
Vin
looked up, startled. "You're thanking me? But I almost got Chanu killed...?"
Kojay frowned, his turn to look surprised, "No, tracker, you're the
reason he is still alive. He told me he was not hiding his trail well because
of Claire's morning sickness, as you must have seen. He would have been found
regardless, but anyone else tracking them would have killed him on the
spot."
"But
Claire," Vin shook his head, "If I
hadn't...."
"You
did all you could to save them, Vin Tanner. Everyone knows this. Do not lie to
yourself about it. Even the ones who doubted you at the time know
this," Kojay looked at Ezra again, "and
will never doubt you again."
Burying
his head in his hands again, Vin hid from Kojay. The chief sighed, deciding to get back to the
topic at hand.
"Tell
me, the time you spent on that reservation..." he began.
"Did they ever accept you?"
Vin
lifted his head slightly, looked at Kojay for a
moment, then returned his head to his hands.
"I'm
not surprised," the chief said softly. "That is always the way with
outsiders, no matter what the people. I'm sure they were good to you, or
you would not have stayed and learned. But you were never one of them,
and that always separated you."
Behind
his hands, Vin blinked away the water in his eyes,
swallowing harshly.
"So
you took up one of the most solitary lives imaginable -- you became a bounty
hunter. Then, by poor luck, a fugitive."
Kojay shook his head, "With that kind of life,
you must have gotten used to being alone."
Vin
lowered his hands finally, but he didn't raise his head again. He had no
response to any of Kojay's statements. So far,
nothing the chief had said was untrue.
"Until
you came here, you really didn't fit in anywhere, did you? Never had family or permanent friends. Just alone. Did it ever bother you?"
Vin
shrugged, and shook his head.
"You're
a poor liar, Vin Tanner."
Vin
almost smiled at that. It was one of Ezra's favorite refrains.
The
tracker sighed, "yes…it bothered me occasionally. But, I also liked being alone. Got to
the point where I liked being alone more than I liked being around most
people. Still do."
"Really,"
Kojay was still titling his head, "So then why
do you now live in this town? With all these people?"
Vin
pursed his lips, then shook his head.
"Maybe
because, once you found the people with whom you belonged, you found you liked
being with them even more," the chief suggested.
Vin
frowned.
"You're
a misfit, Vin Tanner. And you found six more misfits here. Together,
you're not misfits anymore. You found your people."
Vin
gave a tiny smile at the description of his friends as misfits, then it faded
as he absorbed the rest of Kojay's words.
"But,
for someone who spent their whole life concerned only with their own safety and
security, it can be a difficult transition to suddenly have other people to
care about. People who's safety and security now
mean more to you than anything else you've ever known."
Kojay's voice had fallen to a low murmur, and Vin
found himself listening more carefully now.
"They
care a great deal about you, Vin Tanner. And you care a great deal about
them. Perhaps you didn't want to really admit just how much you care.
Maybe you thought you could just get up and leave whenever you wanted?
Head back to wherever that place is to clear your name? Or just to move on? To be alone again?"
Vin's gray eyes were focused on Kojay's hands where they rested on the chief's knees,
clasped together. The chief hadn't moved in a while, his expression
somber.
"Do
you know what those visions are, Vin?"
Vin
shook his head slowly.
"They
are indeed visions of the future, but not the one you think. No future is set,
tracker. Your visions only reflect the future you most fear. You
focused on three members of your family, the three who's
fears you can perhaps most easily relate to, and aggravated them into
nightmares. And, when you began to get sick, the nightmares were worsened
by your fevered condition, until they became so vivid
they seemed like visions."
Kojay leaned forward, releasing his hands so he could touch Vin's face. The startled
tracker reacted instantly by pulling back, but not before Kojay
had wiped away one of the tears that had been running down Vin's face. Kojay sat
back watching as Vin vigorously wiped away the rest of
the tears he hadn't noticed were falling.
Over
on the other pew, Ezra turned his head in his healing sleep, causing the wooden
pew to creak. The movement reminded Vin what had
happened to the gambler. Frowning again, he looked back at Kojay.
"If...they're
not really visions," he demanded softly, maybe a little angrily, "how
did I know about Ezra?"
"You're
an expert at reading signs, Vin Tanner."
"What
does that mean?"
"How
did you learn that Ezra Standish had gone off this morning."
"I...Josiah
told me."
"What
did he say?"
"Just
that Ezra had taken off really early this morning."
"Those
were his words?"
"Well
no...actually, he said, Ezra had 'lit out' at dawn
after receiving a message from the telegraph operator."
"And
is that normal behavior for the gambler?"
Vin
frowned, then shut his eyes.
"You
didn't know it was going to be an ambush, Vin Tanner. All you knew is
that Ezra sounded like he shouldn't be alone. So you sent someone after
him. The rest was luck."
Vin
nodded, thinking more carefully about his state of mind this morning. Then he
opened his eyes again.
"What
about...about Josiah? In my dream, he mentions having had a son. I
don't know if Josiah has had a son." He looked at Kojay, who was smiling back at him.
"Even
I could tell Josiah has had a son, Vin Tanner, and I don't know him as well as
you. Not long after your friend there went to sleep, Josiah came in to check on
the two of you. He rested a hand on that one's head for a while before
leaving. He didn't know I was watching, I don't think. His face
spoke of his long ago loss louder than if he had screamed it from the
rooftops." Kojay shrugged. "As
for the idea of sending him to the gallows, or Josiah's being a bad drunk, I'm
guessing you picked those up somewhere else."
Vin
settled back, thinking about the time when Poplar was here, and how Josiah had
reacted to it all. Yes, he knew what Josiah was like when he was
determined to lose himself, and how the bottle was a part of that. As for
the gallows, he had noticed Josiah never went to any of the hangings they had
had. In fact, the very first one - for Lucas James - he remembered
distinctly Josiah telling them all he'd go stand guard on the outskirts of
town. After all they'd been through to get him back,
it had seemed strange to Vin that Josiah didn't want to see the hanging. Perhaps he had begun to know then.
"You're
an excellent reader of faces, Vin Tanner. You read them as well as you read the
tracks on the ground. It was how you knew there was more than my son was
telling you when Mosely was here. It's a gift, but it does not make you a
seer."
Vin
had gone back to focusing on Kojay's hands, but he no
longer denied what the chief was saying about him. Sensing that, the
chief stood up and stretched out his sore limbs.
"Well,
I'm going to go find Chanu. But I wonder,
perhaps you should consider taking some of the medicines Nathan is offering
you. He told me what he had made to help you, and they are all remedies I
know well. Although, it is interesting some of the western medicine he has
mixed in with it. I'm thinking of having him come out and teach some
things to the healers back in my village."
Shrugging,
Kojay wandered over to Ezra and ruffled the gambler's
hair. Ezra frowned in his sleep, and Kojay
chuckled.
"See,
I knew that would annoy him," he told Vin as he
continued to walk towards the great double doors of the church. "You can
learn a great deal about people just by watching them for long enough, even
while they are sleeping."
Vin
watched him leave, then stood up on shaky legs to walk over to Ezra. The
gambler was still sleeping steadily, his pale features still slightly flushed
but not dangerously so. Smiling, Vin reached
down and patted the now messy hair back into the style Ezra liked. Ezra's
frown lessened.
Sitting
down on the floor in front of the pew, Vin found
himself laughing for the first time in a long time.
Startled
awake by the sound, Ezra found he couldn't get to angry at seeing Vin grinning at him.
"Well,
Mr. Tanner," he croaked, struggling to sit up and failing. Vin shook his head, not strong enough himself to do
anything. Ezra chuckled, "Does this
mean you are cured?"
Vin's smile fell some, and he
shook his head. "Cured? No. But I can live with it. In fact, I kind of want to live with
it."
Still
smiling, Ezra's brow furrowed deeply at the strange statement. Finally he leaned his head back to look up at
the rafters.
"You
are a very peculiar man, Mr. Tanner."
"Takes one to know one, Ez. Makes you my people."
Ezra
groaned, raising his good hand to his eyes.
"Oh good lord. And I thought Josiah was the only madman
among us."
Vin
started chuckling again.
_________________________________________
Not
too much later, Nathan came in to see if he could convince both of them to move
up to the clinic. The question was
mostly directed at Vin, for, although Kojay had promised that Vin would be ready to accept help
now, the healer was still nervous.
Vin
simply nodded, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to go to the
clinic. Nathan broke into a broad grin.
Over
by the door, Buck leaned against the frame.
When he saw Vin's
reaction, he smiled genuinely for the first time in days and jogged in to help
Ezra to his feet while Nathan helped the tracker.
They
reached the doors of the church, and Buck set Ezra down to rest. Vin breathed in the
cool air of the fall and smiled. He'd
forgotten how nice it was.
Over
by the saloon, they could see Chris talking with Kojay
quietly, while JD and Josiah sat across the street in front of the jail. They were watching the church, and smiled
when they saw the four men emerge.
Suddenly,
fast hoofbeats shattered the town, and Vin's posture went instantly
rigid. All his fears rushed back as he
saw the horse come out from the side street, the rider with his rifle raised,
the barrel pointing directly at Chris's exposed back.
In
almost slow motion, he yelled a warning, already knowing it would be too late
for Chris to turn and pull his weapon.
Three
almost simultaneous gunshots split the evening air.
The
rider slumped in the saddle, his weapon never discharged.
His
breathing still rapid, Vin leaned back on Nathan and
looked around at the others. Buck, JD and Josiah all held smoking guns, their
expressions dark. JD put his gun away
and jogged over to join Chris as he knelt next to the dying man to hear his
final words.
Shaking
his head in disgust, Chris looked up, spotted Vin by
the church, then said something to JD before moving to join him and the others
there. JD waved some townsfolk over to
help him take the body to the undertakers.
"Vin,"
Chris walked up, his expression still tense, but not worried, "How do you
feel?"
The
tracker's heart rate had slowed, and he managed to smile back at his best
friend.
"Well
cared for, Chris. Looks
like we're all well cared for."
Thinking
Vin only meant himself and Ezra, Chris nodded.
"Mr. Larabee, who was that?" Ezra asked from where Buck
had propped him up against the church's doorframe. Chris shook his head.
"Just another man trying to make a name for himself. By the way, while you were out of it, your
ambusher pointed to
Ezra
blinked, but there was no way to tell whether it was his sickness or something
else that suddenly made him slip on the doorframe. Buck caught him, the ladies man's expression
dark.
"We
should get him lying down, Chris." Half carrying the gambler now, he looked
over at Vin leaning on Nathan, "Both of
them."
Chris
frowned, but nodded. He reached in and took Vin from
Nathan, and Buck pulled Ezra behind them.
Nathan sighed, and looked over at Kojay. He waved and mouthed the words "Thank
you."
Over
by the saloon, Kojay nodded in return. With a quick goodbye to JD, the chief mounted
his horse then trotted out to go find his son.
_____________________________
The End
(I know, I'm terrible. I always
leave something open ended. But, if you
want a hint as to what might have happened to Ezra in