Setting: OW
Disclaimer: The characters of the MAGNIFICENT SEVEN belong to MGM, Trilogy, CBS, and TNN. No profit is made from this fan fic in any way, shape, or form except fun. The original characters and dialogue used in my stories are mine. I don't want them used without my permission.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Language, violence
Notes: Many thanks to Sassey J, Jan and Becky for their advice and input. A special thanks to Adrian, Jo, Janice and Paula for being so wonderfully understanding.
"Mornin' Darlin!" Buck boomed, swinging the irate saloon owner off her feet. "Ready to march down the aisle yet?" he teased, with a saucy wink. "Ow! Hey cut that out!" The rogue winced as the wooden spoon she was carrying struck him in a rather 'delicate' area.
"...cajones fritos..." Inez's voice trailed off as she departed for the kitchen, leaving the bemused gunslinger in her wrath.
"Aw, hell..." Buck boomed, hands on his lean hips. He ambled over towards the table where Josiah and J.D. were eating breakfast. "She's crazy about me."
"Yeah, that's definitely the impression I got." J.D. rolled his eyes and scooped up a forkful of ham and eggs. He cocked his head and looked at the somber preacher. The youth grinned, knowing the twinkle in the blue eyes meant Josiah had some wisdom to impart.
"Sounded like she had some definite action in mind," the eldest said, leaving Buck to squint curiously at him. "Uh... a rather intimate cooking lesson."
"Yeah?" The charmer inquired, bending over and trying to peek under the large slouch hat covering most of Vin Tanner's face.
"She's fixin' on fryin' yer balls, " the raspy voice painfully answered, slapping the hand that was approaching. "Fuck off..."
"You're a Goddamn grump in the morning, Vin," Buck complained, taking the seat next to the wheezing tracker. "You seen Nate yet?" he asked, and took a mug of steaming coffee from J.D. "Thanks, Kid." He tapped the buckskinned-shoulder that was slouched back in the chair. His mustache turned up as a string of curses, English, Spanish and Comanche, assaulted him. This Tanner action caused him to grin broadly.
"Mr. Tanner, you're a Linguist of the highest caliber."
"Mornin' Ace!" Buck greeted. "Late night?" he inquired sympathetically, seeing the red-rimmed eyes of the gambler.
"As that is on a need-to-know-basis," Ezra poured a shot of whiskey in his coffee and headed for a vacant seat. "...you are most definitely in no position to ascertain that information."
"Jeez, Ezra," J.D. frowned, piling the remnants of his eggs and ham onto a large tortilla, laden with tomatoes and cheese. "You wear me out listening to you." He rolled up his creation and took a hefty bite.
"You listenin' to me, Slick?" Buck continued, taking a biscuit from Josiah's plate. "That ain't gonna get better on it's own."
Vin Tanner was miserable. He huddled deeper inside his coat and pulled his head down. There was barely an inch of skin visible. He had been looking forward to the trip south with Chris Larabee. They were transferring two prisoners to Salerno, a growing border town. The pair had been arrested for attempted robbery, and J.D. uncovered the posters marking them for murder. He'd slunk in the Saloon early, hoping to avoid this inquisition. He made a mental note to torment Chris all the way to the Mexican border. The cool gunslinger was late and adding to his misery. His throat was sore and the annoying tickle he'd picked up a couple days earlier had grown considerably. He tried to doze and ignore Buck's bantering, but that large hand clamped on his shoulder again.
"Move it or lose it," the Texan warned, punctuating his threat with a loud, wet burst of colorful bronchial matter.
"Jesus, Vin!" Buck complained, covering and grabbing his newly arrived plate of hotcakes.
"Ew!" J.D. flinched, grabbing his dish and fleeing as well.
"Not your best move, Son." Josiah shook his head and moved out of the line of fire.
Vin glared at his three friends, who now stood several feet away, heading for a corner table. "...hell with y'all..." He wheezed, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Like rats desertin' a sinkin' ship. Wouldn't kill ya t'have a little sympathy."
"Sympathy!" Buck boomed, spearing a defenseless sausage and pointing it at the watery-eyed sharpshooter. "For what?" he accused, eyeing the suffering soul. "I got no intention of catchin' whatever the hell that is."
"Mr. Wilmington," Ezra demurred, nibbling on a frittata, "Your kindness overwhelms me."
"Okay, Ace," Buck challenged, "You sit next to him and have that gunk flyin' at you." He paused, observing Ezra's shifting eyes. "Yeah... I hear that loud and clear. I don't plan on spending any time lyin' in bed coughin' and spittin' up crud."
"Come on Buck..." J.D. elbowed his best friend, "It's not Vin's fault he's sick."
"The hell it isn't." Buck stabbed a stack of syrup-laden griddlecakes and wolfing them down. "It's what he gets for kissin' a strange woman."
"There weren't nothin' strange 'bout her..." Vin chirped, sitting up and shoving his hat back. The watery eyes were shining triumphantly and the devilish smile that followed gave J.D. and Ezra a good chuckle. "...or the way she kissed." He sighed, wearing a grin that deflated Buck's own broad smile.
"Yeah?" the mustached man retaliated, "You being laid up was worth that hour of passion?"
"Only an hour?" the drawling Romeo crowed, a single blue eye twinkling and an evil grin curling upwards. "Damn yer gettin' old Bucklin." He chuckled and slid back down, reclining his head on the back of the chair. "I put in a good word fer ya... seein' as how yer in a slump an' all."
"Slump!" Buck boomed, shoving the giggling sheriff sideways. "That word has never been or ever will be associated with the Wilmington name," he announced and sat back down, continuing his breakfast. A few minutes later, he eyed J.D. curiously, as the youth began to make marble sized bits from his biscuits. He followed the glint in the hazel eyes over to where the tracker lie. His face was covered, but he was breathing heavily, through his open mouth. The youthful sheriff was tossing the bread pellets at the savory target. Buck joined him and just as one made landfall and the tracker jerked and coughed, the batwing doors swung open.
"I wouldn't," The blond gunslinger warned the pair, nodding to Inez who approached with a dish of peppers and eggs.
"It's about damn time," Vin rasped, spitting the bread ball back at J.D., after his coughing fit ended. "Best ya get done, so we can get goin'."
"We?" Chris Larabee's voice rose and his green eyes widened in fair warning as he shoveled the spicy dish into his mouth. "You're not riding anywhere with me looking like that!" He snapped of their trek south to Salerno, a small, lively border town. They were transporting two would-be-thieves, who were wanted in the town in the shadow of Mexico, for murder.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with m'arm." Vin coughed, patting his mare's leg. "I can ride..."
"Yes, well the ability to see one's target is essential... and appears to be disappearing fast." Ezra noted of the watery eyes.
"Shut up, Ezra!" Vin warned, struggling to his feet and approaching the reluctant blond. "Come on Chris, we're burnin' daylight."
"Coward," Chris stated, raising a sandy eyebrow and drawing a deep scowl. He knew Vin was anxious to escape Four Corners before Nathan saw him. One look and he'd tie the feisty tracker to the clinic cot if necessary.
"Hell, he wouldn't hardy notice..." Vin wavered, stopping several feet short of the angry leader.
"No?" Chris stood and walked to the coffeepot on the nearby stove. "What exactly won't he notice first?" He fingered a silver coin and tossed it at the table. "Them eyes that look like two pissholes in the snow?"
"The multicolored flying phlegm." Ezra drew out a silver dollar.
"That bark that rivals the seals at the wharf in San Francisco," Josiah added, tossing a coin.
"That excuse for a voice." Buck tossed his coin and nudged J.D.
"I'm on duty... I can't gamble," the youth replied, causing a collective grown from his elders.
"Chris..." Vin gritted and dissolved into a coughing fit.
"Get your ass across that street and wait on Nathan," the blond directed, hauling his young friend to the door. "You'll be lucky if he lets you out by the end of the week."
"Goddammit Larabee," Vin pulled away and shoved hard. "I ain't no damn kid... quit motherin' me."
"Don't piss me off, Vin," the green eyes threatened.
Buck grinned and walked to stand next to the man in black. He winked at Chris, and turned to J.D. with a sly grin. "Hey, Kid... You got them fancy handcuffs?"
"The ones from St. Louis?" J.D. asked, eyes twinkling, "Sure do."
"Aw, hell," Vin mumbled, knowing he was beaten. "Fine lot o'friends y'all turned out t'be. Shouldda kept ridin' that day," he recalled of his arrival in Four Corners.
Buck turned to go back to his table, when J.D. and Josiah pointed. He turned and grinned as he watched Chris walk to the door and raise his head. The somber expression turned sour and the green eyes narrowed. "Vin..." he warned, when the tracker went astray.
Buck laughed outloud when Chris's face dissolved into a grin. He knew the snarling tracker had issued a 'silent salute' to leader of the seven. Chris turned back to him and the grin broadened.
"You up to the challenge... Stud?" He offered and saw the smile he knew so well meet his own.
"Ready, willin' and able." Buck crowed, blue eyes dancing. "Hey, Chris, you think Miranda still sings at the Crystal Rose Theater?" he inquired of the buxom brunette who'd entertained the pair well into the wee hours of the morning several years before.
"Who's Miranda?" J.D. asked, eyeing the lewd eye gestures the two exchanged.
"A woman-and-a-half, Kid." Buck sighed, rubbing his head. "She'd eat an inexperienced slicker like you for lunch."
"Seems to me she nearly ate another 'slicker' from back east for lunch." Chris raised an eyebrow and Buck chuckled.
"Hell, I forget about that." He smirked and stabbed the remnants of his breakfast.
"She damn near killed you when she rolled on you." Chris leaned over and elbowed the blushing gunslinger.
"Don't think I forgot that you nearly choked to death at my expense," Buck recalled, "Never heard you laugh so hard."
"Funniest thing I ever saw," Chris chuckled and dropped his head, his shoulders quaking in mirth.
"What?" J.D elbowed Buck. "Aw, come on Buck..."
"Sorry, Kid," Buck denied of the acrobatic position that he'd been trapped in, and the mortification he felt when a doctor had to be summoned. "You ain't old enough. Hell, it can't be that funny, Chris." He slapped the black knee.
"It's still fuckin' hilarious." The blond shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "How the hell did you get twisted up like that? It's a wonder you didn't... uh... damage the family jewels."
"Never you mind about my 'jewels'." Buck rose and slapped the chuckling sheriff. "Come on J.D., let's get them prisoners ready to move. Livery?" he asked of Chris.
"Yeah. You pack your gear. I'm gonna check on the wheezing Lothario."
Vin eased himself onto the cot, glad that the clinic was dark and quiet. The unforgiving sun had slammed into his head with a vengeance. His throat hurt and he quickly drained two mugs of water. He shucked his coat and laid upon the cot, pulling the soft quilt over him. Nathan was still at the Jenkin's ranch. Molly Jenkins was having her first and having a tough go of it.
Chris eyed the slumbering sharpshooter as he slipped inside the clinic. He frowned at the deep-seeded coughing and expulsion of phlegm. He dug into the gray ceramic jar that housed the herbal tea and waited for the water to boil. He poured the hot liquid over the black leaves and doused it liberally with sugar. He sat the steaming mug on the table next to Vin and eyed the younger man sharply. He shook his head as his friend's gapped-mouth and the heavy breathing.
"Get the hell away, ya no-account traitor." The wheezer warned, turning sideways and coughing. He struggled in vain as two strong hands drew him up.
"Got some tea for you," Chris said quietly, leaving a hand on Vin's back. He waited until the breathing regulated and the mangy head dipped once. A hand snaked out and took the hot mug, the face wrinkled up and the nose sniffed disdainfully. "It's loaded," Chris noted of the heavy dose of sugar. He watched until the mug was drained and the sleepy face yawned twice. He waited until the blue eyes began to slide shut and he eased the fidgeting form down. The eyes never opened, but the arm shot out and he snapped onto it, grasping the forearm.
"Watch yer back, Cowboy." The soft warning floated up at him.
"Always do." Chris sent back, watching as the furrowed brows slackened up and the mouth fell open. As the heavy breathing became a regular pattern, he eased the comfortable quilt up and rested a cautious hand on the Texan's forehead, glad to find it cool. Satisfied, he headed for the livery. Buck had the prisoners ready and Chris fell into the lead, with Buck bringing up the rear. J.D. and Josiah watched their two friends depart, unaware that Fate would only have one return.
"Afternoon, Mary."
Mary Travis wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and looked up from the press. Oliver Weber was standing in front of her. The owner of the Four Corners Billiard Hall was depositing his weekly advertisement.
"Thanks Oliver. How's Dottie?" she asked of the man's ailing wife.
"About the same." He paused. "I hear Arizona Territory is good for lung ailments. But..." He sighed.
"Too wild?" she guessed of the desert area ruled by outlaws.
"Yeah... I don't know. If she gets worse, I may not have a choice." He turned to leave, "Oh, have you seen Nathan?"
"No. Why Oliver?" she asked, "Do you want him to stop in and have a look at Dottie?"
"No... there's a stranger asking for him, a Doctor Richardson. I sent him up to the clinic."
"I need a lunch break anyway," Mary said, taking off her apron. "I'll take some soup over and check on Vin. I'll see what this doctor wants. Thanks Oliver, my best to Dottie."
"Thanks, Mary."
"What?" Chris asked, watching the slow smile appear on Buck's face. The two prisoners were bound, gagged and being led by the gunslingers. Chris saw his oldest friend's face break into an even bigger smile and the blue eyes were shining. The sun caused the taller man to take off his hat and swipe his brow. Easy. That was the word that came to mind when he thought of Buck Wilmington. How easy it was to be this man's friend. How easy Buck made it to admire him. How easy he could make Chris Larabee laugh. Lucky, too. How lucky he was to have such a special friend. "Well?" He inquired, as a softer smile appeared.
"Been awhile, Chris," Buck said quietly, appraising the man in black. "I've missed you."
"Hell, Buck, I see you every day," Chris joked, knowing where the sentimental Wilmington was going.
"Not like this," Buck replied, recalling all the adventures the two shared. "Just the two of us, like old times. Damn, but we made a helluva team."
"Hey, I'm not heading for a rocking chair yet," Chris defended.
"It's not the same now," Buck said and looked away.
Chris didn't miss the wistfulness in the dark blue eyes or the tinge of sadness in the voice. They rode in silence for awhile, reflecting of the past. Chris, too, remembered the good times the two shared, from coast to coast. From their initial meeting in Kentucky, through their time as Army scouts and then the war years. Then the wonderful years with Sarah and Adam. He flinched when he recalled how he pushed Buck away. The lowest point in his life and he destroyed the one thing that was true and good. His deep feelings for the big-hearted man had caused the pain to deepen. For the first time in his life, Chris Larabee had been scared. Burying Sarah and Adam was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Buck tried... Lord, but the man had the patience of a saint. He'd followed Chris from town to town. He endured every fist the blond threw at him, as well as bailing him out of jail and sobering him up. Only to have it begin again in the next town. Until one day, Chris woke up and Buck was gone.
"Leave it buried, Chris. That was another time, another place," Buck issued, reading every painful detail in the anguished green eyes.
"Sometimes I wonder, Buck," he hushed, turning and giving the other man a steely-eyed stare. "Why didn't you leave sooner? I didn't deserve..."
"You even gotta ask that?" Buck's voice was hostile and bitter. "Horses need a break, I'll scout ahead for some water." He tensed, handing Chris the reins to the prisoner he was toting.
Chris sighed and watched the gray bay disappear into the crest ahead. "Dammit Larabee..." He cursed and urged Caesar forward.
A violent burst of coughing caused the lean, young man to sit up. He saw a blurry hand appear with a cloth and took it. He expelled heavily in the rag and crumpled it up. He rubbed his aching head and squinted as the midday sun tore into his burning eyes like razors.
"Shit..." He ducked and covered his face. He felt the room grow cooler and heard footsteps.
"Is that better?"
He looked up as the strange voice appeared in the now darkened room. A well-dressed man of medium height and build was approaching. He was wearing a gray pinstriped suit and had a gold pocket watch and fob on his vest. His gray hair suggested him to be in his early fifties.
"Yeah, thanks," Vin croaked.
"This is cold," the man said, handing Vin a mug of water. "I took the liberty of getting some fresh."
"Thanks again." Vin narrowed his eyes.
"I'm a physician." the man answered the reddened, suspicious eyes looking at him. "I'm here to visit Mr. Jackson." He handed Vin his card. He studied the young man carefully, noting the perplexed-tinged shame in the blue eyes. He had a keen sense of intuitiveness and it didn't fail him now. He smiled as the wheezing body turned the card around twice, eyes squinting.
"He ain't back yet?" Vin said, pocketing the card and eyeing the empty room
"No, someone told me he was seeing to a difficult delivery."
Vin sat forward and erupted into another coughing fit. A mug appeared in front of him and he took it. He glanced inside as the amber liquid and frowned. The cold that had settled in his head prevented him from smelling anything, so he couldn't tell if it was bitter. He placed it on the table and eyed the bottle from which it came.
"It's medicine," The stranger said, "For that infection in your lungs. If not treated properly, complications could set in. As you can see," He leveled, playing his ace card and handing the teary-eyed patient a bottle, "it's medicinal value to infirmities such as yours, is highly effective."
Try as he might, Vin couldn't help but feel the heat rise to his face. He eyed the lettering on the bottle and frowned. The characters looked like Chinese to him. He got by fine most of the time, using his keen senses to make up for his lack of reading ability. But every once and awhile, like now, it rose up and bit him like a venomous snake. He nodded once and placed the bottle on the table.
"Reckon I'll wait on Nate..." he decided, turning over the small, damp pillow, "thanks jest the same."
"That's taking quite a chance... Mr. Jackson may not return today," the older man imparted slyly, "I'm sure you recognize the potential dangers if pneumonia sets in." That got his attention and he watched the pale eyes flicker. "I have my bag with me... may I?" He slid a hand inside a black leather bag.
Vin winced as another painful bout of coughing doubled him over. Tears ran down his face and the thought of Nathan not returning until the following day gripped him. He'd seen how fast pneumonia could take hold. He frowned and sat up, rubbing his watery eyes. He studied the other man carefully and nodded once. After unbuttoning his shirt, he sat up straight. He sucked in a breath as the cold metal of the instrument hit his chest.
"Sorry..." the silver head nodded, "Cough..." he paused, "Again." He moved his hand the right amount of times and scowled properly. He clicked his tongue and shook his head convincingly.
Vin buttoned his shirt up and pulled his jacket closed. He shivered and eyed the concerned older man's face.
"Well?" the raspy voice inquired.
"You're loaded with congestion... and I see you've taken some medicinal tea," he'd observed the empty mug. "But that cough medicine would help greatly." He eyed the bottle and watched Vin's head turn slowly. After a long pause with deliberation, the hand reached out and picked up the mug.
Vin swirled the amber liquid and slowly raised the mug. He drained it in one swallow and screwed his face up. He couldn't taste it very good, but it left an acrid film in his mouth. He blinked as the room swayed a bit.
"Strong..." He murmured, shaking his head.
"Have you eaten today?"
"Nah... stomach was jumpin' a bit."
"I'm sorry, I should have inquired on your disposition first. It should be taken after eating."
Vin nodded and noticed his throat didn't hurt as much. He didn't feel the urge to cough either. He picked up the bottle and studied the remaining contents. His head and eyes weren't aching as much; maybe this stuff was good medicine. He studied the man before him and looked at the brown eyes. They didn't look away or waver.
"How much?" He croaked, still dizzy from the strong liquid, which burned his stomach a bit.
"Well, you can have that one for free," the hand disappeared into a large black bag, "But with an infection that serious, you'll need another. Two bits should do it." He paused, seeing the eyes furrow at the label. "As you can see, the directions are clearly stated."
"Done," Vin decided, seeing an opportunity to avoid Nathan's wrath. He shoved both bottles into the large pockets of his coat, where they would be well hidden. He stood and shook the man's hand.
"I'm obliged." He nodded and reached for his coat. He planned on heading to Mrs. Adams Boarding House for lunch. Then he'd take more medicine and hit the livery. Chris would be gone for a few days; he could head out to the shack and avoid Nate altogether. Smiling at his shrewd planning, he rose. A soft voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Vin? Should you be up?"
"Hey, Mary." He nodded, "I was jest heading out t' get somethin' t'eat."
"I brought some soup and cheddar popovers."
"Aw, hell, Mary," he slumped, eyeing the steam rising on the golden, steaming muffins, "That ain't playin' fair. Ya know them's m'favorites." He took a large bite of the hot muffin and sighed in contentment. He sat at the table and dipped a spoon into the thick, rich chicken soup, loaded with noodles.
"I'm Mary Travis, the editor of the Clarion," She introduced and stuck out her hand.
"This here is... uh..." Vin stammered, eyes darting. How would he get out of this fix? He couldn't read the name on the card.
"Howard Richardson, at your service." He bowed and took the extended hand.
"You're a doctor?" she inquired, eyeing the bag.
"Yes, I was looking for Mr. Jackson. I'm afraid I won't have time to wait much longer. The stage driver told me they would be leaving after lunch. I have to eat myself and get back."
"Ya know Nate?" Vin muffled, over a mouthful of muffin.
"By reputation only," he said. "I've heard he is quite adept at healing. I wanted to exchange some thoughts and shake his hand."
"You're very kind." Mary nodded, "I'm sure Nathan will be sorry he missed you. Are you from these parts?"
"No, I was just passing through." He rose and nodded to Vin. "I hope you feel better, young man."
"Yeah... thanks Doc." Vin looked up as Mary approached. "I'm fine." He hissed, ducking the hand that swatted him.
"You're not warm. How's that cough?" Mary prodded, studying him closely.
"s'okay. Best ya be gettin' along. Wouldn't want the paper t'be late."
"Nice try, Cowboy," She scolded, nodding to the platter. "You finish every bit of that and get back in that bed. I'll be back." she raised an eyebrow. "Don't make me use my wooden spoon."
Vin laughed and took a large gulp of cold ice tea. He was fond of Mary and wouldn't admit it outloud, but he liked it when she fussed over him.
"Yer lucky I weren't yers." He shook his curly head, "Ya would have worn out a bunch o'them spoons on m'hide."
"I'd have been honored to be your mother," she said quietly, resting a hand on his chin and tilting his flushed face upwards. "Any mother would." She tapped his cheek playfully and turned to leave. She was at the door when the soft voice floated over. She loved his drawl and the almost musical quality it took on when he was moved by something.
"Hey, Mary," he paused, his eyes wide and startling blue, "Thanks..."
"You're welcome, Vin." She smiled back and pointed to the bed. "I'll be back..." She warned and drank in the laugh and smile he produced.
Vin finished his lunch and pushed the chair back. He doubled over as a painful burst of coughing gripped him. When he finally caught his breath, he took a liberal swig of his medicine. The wheezing stopped and he stood up. The room swayed a bit and he grabbed the wall until he got his footing. He put his coat on and headed out into the daylight, wary of J.D. or Mary's knowing eyes. He felt a tickle forming in his throat and took a swig of his medicine. In a way he was glad he couldn't taste it. He picked up some supplies from his wagon, knowing Chris had stocked the shack only a few days before. He was at the livery, when Danny Blake, the clerk from the Post and Telegraph Office stopped him.
"Vin, hold up... Vin..."
"Danny?" Vin paused, blinking as the teenage clerk appeared in double vision for a moment. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing I hope. J.D.'s out on patrol and I can't find Ezra. Josiah's on his way to the Seminole Village with some supplies." He paused, eyeing Vin Tanner. "Vin, you okay? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine. What's wrong?"
"You know them two murderers Buck and Chris are totin'?" he paused as the blinking head with red eyes nodded. "One of them was Caleb Miller."
"...and?" Vin rasped, his headache threatening to return.
"A wire came from Eagle's Bend. Caleb Miller's brother was arrested on his way here. The prison wagon picked him up yesterday. It never arrived and they sent out a scout. Davey Miller killed the guard and is headed this way to get his brother. He'll have to pass them if he's coming north and their headed south. That road cuts right through Devil's Pass."
"Chris and Buck'll be sittin' ducks," Vin hissed, realizing the potentially lethal situation. "Thanks Danny, I'll ride after 'em. Ya leave word at Nate's, the church and the sheriff's office. Where the hell is Ezra?"
"He ain't in town," the youth denied. "Ming said he saw Ezra ride out after breakfast." He noted of the elderly apothecary.
"Aw, hell..." Vin rubbed his eyes. "Try and find 'im... and try t'find J.D., Ya hear?"
"Yessir!"
Vin lost no time saddling Diablo, despite his blurry vision. He ran into the sheriff's office, grabbed a rifle and some cartridges. He dropped half of them on the floor and nearly fell over reaching for them. His face was hot and he was sweating. He took a few minutes to steady himself and slid outside. It took three tries, but his boot finally hit the stirrup. Hell bent on fury, he raced towards Serpent's Curve, a cutoff that would give him the upper hand. He only hoped he was in time to save his friends.
Chris slid from the horse and tugged the gags off both prisoners. He offered a canteen and a silent warning. They didn't argue. He then replaced the gags and made his way creekside. Buck was filling three of the canteens. Chris squatted and filled the others. He glanced over at his oldest friend.
"I'm sorry, Buck. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."
"Dammit Chris!" Buck wheeled, corking the canteen harshly. "Why is this still an issue? I want it buried. Do you see this?" he held out his right hand, palm up. "This is what you'll always have, unquestioned, you know that."
"Open hand... open heart." Chris looked away wearing guilt.
"That night in Wild Springs, when I left," Buck recalled, sitting on a rock and gazing out over the water. "I realized that me mollycoddlin' you was the worst thing I could do. If I wasn't there to sober you up, you'd have to do it yourself. I wasn't helping you... it was getting worse and it hurt like hell. I couldn't see you like that, Chris." His voice cracked with emotion and he glanced down. He paused and felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Guess that's another beer I owe you," Chris said quietly.
"Yeah..." Buck replied thickly. "It didn't take long. You squared your shoulders and put the pieces back together."
"You followed me?" Chris guessed, sensing something in the dark blue eyes trying to hide.
"I had to be sure you were okay."
"How long?"
"Until I knew for sure, when you took that job in Albuquerque for that rancher, McClendon. Your eyes were clear, the shadows were gone, it was time."
"But why did you leave?"
"I needed time to heal, Chris." Buck's voice cracked and his eyes filled up, thinking of the special little boy who loved Uncle Buck so much. "I loved them, too..."
"God, I'm sorry, Buck." Chris forced a harsh air out and squeezed the downcast shoulder hard. "Guess I was a pretty selfish bastard."
"Part of the charm, Pard." Buck smiled and stood up, gripping the hand hard and nodded. "Best we get going, three hours should put us in Salerno. I got a hankerin' for whiskey, women and a hot card game."
"After you, Stud." Chris grinned, clapping the broad back. "Wonder if that doctor still in town?"
"Fuck you, Larabee!" Buck laughed, shoving the black clad man forward.
"Shit..."
Vin slipped the eyepiece off his face and rubbed his eyes. He glanced down the road again and saw the rider coming. Sliding the scope back in his pocket, he blinked hard and swayed in his saddle. "Dammit... they's three of 'em... maybe it ain't Muller... Diller..." He frowned, and scratched his head. "What the hell is his name?" he slurred, then doubled over coughing. He drained the last of the first bottle, just as the stranger approached.
Davey Miller's tension disappeared as soon as he realized that the man approaching him, barely able to sit in the saddle, was no threat. He eyed the shabby coat, wondering if there was a money pouch underneath. His hand slid to his hip as the other man fumbled for his own weapon.
"Uh-uh..." He shook his head, "Off the horse, Mister, slow and easy."
"Y'all best shur... shurender now..." Vin slurred, waving his mare's leg wildly at the three blurry horsemen. He blinked as they all pulled out their weapons. "Aw, hell..." He tried to bring up the mare's leg, but lost his balance and fell off, landing with a thud in the road. He was on all fours when they approached. He ducked, but not fast enough and a black boot caught him in the stomach.
Davey knelt down and placed his knee on the stranger's back. He easily took the gun and rolled the stuperous man over. Straddling him, he gripped the red shirt and hauled the blinking man upright. "Take that coat off." he ordered and watched the swaying body obey, amidst a slew of wayward, slurred cursing. He tossed the hide coat aside and decided the shirt was better than the tattered one he was wearing. "Shirt too."
"No!" Vin sassed to the one in the middle. He eyed the other two in confusion. All three were blurry but wearing gray and Vin saw markings on their pockets. Prisoners... escaped prisoners.
"Yer all under arrest... yer murderin' bash... thirds."
"Shut up!" Davey answered, backhanding the younger man and snapping his head. He laid the dazed body down and tried to take off the red shirt. But before he could complete his task, a knee raised sharply and almost caught him in the groin.
"Dammit!" Vin swore as the two beside the one holding him both moved in unison, blocking his kick. He felt his throat gripped and saw the gun in his face coming closer. He dissolved into a coughing fit, sending the gun sideways and felt himself being drawn up.
"You havin' a private party, Boy?" Davey laughed, running his hands through the slack jawed man's pockets. "Shit..." he swore, uncovering a beat up harmonica and fifty cents. "Well, it's not a total loss." He eyed the mare's leg, "That's quite a gun. Thanks for the donation."
"Get... off... me..." Vin panted, trying to free himself and take out the leering trio.
"I was just getting comfortable," Miller replied, "but if you insist... " He stood and watched the young man try to stand. Once he got on all fours, the felon kicked him brutally in the ribs.
Vin felt the burst of heat in his chest and curled up. He saw them headed for Diablo and used what little strength he had left to launch himself at three pair of legs.
Davey wasn't expecting the assault and went down hard. Vin jerked his head up and caught the thief under the chin. He punched the already stuperous man but it had a negative impact. Vin toppled onto him and managed to get the mare's leg back. Miller rolled away, pulling his weapon.
Vin saw the three of them draw at the same time. "Shit..." He sighed, breathing heavily through the painful side. He decided to take out the middle one and then go left. He got to his knees and fired twice, the recoil sent him flying backwards down a muddy hill. With a soft thump, he landed in the mucky mess near the creekbed. The mud covered him from head to toe. "Aw, hell..." he eyed the hill high above. It seemed to take forever; he slid down two feet for every three he climbed. Rocks bit into his hands and the mud was beginning to harden, creating a heavy, uncomfortable armor. Finally, he broke over the crest and sighed in relief at the bodies lying still. He crawled over and felt the dead man. A coughing fit sent him flat on his face. He gasped for breath, cradling his injured side. Finally, he rose and checked the other dead man. He blinked in confusion. Was there two or three. Before he could decide, his legs gave out and he slipped into a soft black blanket.
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