Missing scene from "The Trial"
Hell of a day. News from the judge that trouble was brewing in Eagle Bend had gotten them all het up, and Buck Wilmington stepped into the saloon through the building's back door, bringing up the rear behind Vin Tanner, JD Dunne, and Chris. Things were rough in town and Buck was the first to admit it. Too many men, a whole lot of hate, and not near enough liquor or women to settle them all down added up to a pile of trouble no sane man would want to manage. Yet for a dollar a day here he stood, ready to dive in and manage the hell out of any man looking to cause trouble. Chris, JD, and Vin stood just as ready. Hell, Chris already looked annoyed and they hadn't even got to their table yet. Buck had been feeling the same, ever since he'd seen the law in Eagle Bend manhandling Judge Travis.
He followed them to a table, up front near the batwing doors where they could get a good view of the world. He tilted his chair back on two legs and casually peered over each shoulder to place every stranger, all the unwelcome folk who had surged into town. While he did that, he knew Chris was taking closer, more careful stock of the room, and that Vin was probably doing the same with his view out the window.
Sure enough, Buck had barely gotten his chair back on four legs before Chris scraped his own chair out and stood. "I need some air," he muttered, and left, and Buck relaxed a little. No danger behind him then, at least not now. Vin watched Chris push through the batwing doors and Buck watched Vin, wondering if the man would follow.
Vin's eyes tracked Chris out the door, but he made no move to follow, and Buck nodded his satisfaction. It had taken a while, but Vin had finally learned to read Chris's meaner moods. Vin could be as taciturn as Chris – either of them could sit in good company without exchanging so much as a word if the mood took them – but when Buck was feeling honest he had to admit that Vin was a more decent kind of man than Chris was. Less appealing for it, Buck thought with a silent laugh at his own expense; he liked that untamed streak in Chris. Vin, for all his willingness to take a shortcut, be it over sacred lands or through a bullet in a man's back, didn't possess that rattlesnake wildness that still lived inside Chris Larabee, tamped down sure, hidden altogether unless there was someone or something to rile him. But it was there nonetheless, and Buck's appreciation of it was damn near unnatural.
So sometimes Vin didn't notice when Chris was wanting a little more room than Four Corners and seven men on the same payroll afforded him. But most times these days, he did take note, and Buck was glad of it. "Buy you a beer, Vin?" Buck offered.
Vin settled an inch deeper into his chair, lips twitching toward a grin. "Thanks, Buck."
JD, indignant about the possibility of being slighted in any way, frowned and kicked Buck's boot under the table. "What about me?"
"Thought I'd get you a glass of milk, kid," he grinned. "Maybe you'll get another growth spurt and stop having to stand on tiptoe all the time."
"Hell, Buck! You know I—"
Buck tuned him out and took long strides to the bar, leaning against it as Inez filled two glasses. On his way back to the table, he veered casually close to the saloon doors to see if Chris had gone off or settled close by. The toe of a familiar black boot stuck just past the edge of the doorframe's molding, clear as day against the faded boards of the walk outside. So Chris had stayed close then – real close, parking himself just outside the window beyond their table. Buck shook his head and sighed fondly. Chris could feel all them pissed off folk from Eagle Bend cluttering up his town like trash in the street. He was probably looking for a brawl to ease the tensions.
Buck left him to it and used his boot to move his chair when he returned, setting his and Vin's beers down. His usual chair, which Chris had once growled left him stupidly exposed because his back was half way toward the entrance, afforded a view out the window and, if he just turned his head, out the seam between batwing door and doorframe, and onto the street.
"Where's my milk?" JD said.
"At the bar," he replied, chuckling a little when JD hopped up like a rabbit and went to fetch it. That boy had more energy in him than a scrappy pup.
"Chris outside?" Vin asked, barely louder than breath.
Buck tilted his head toward the window and Vin glanced over his shoulder and nodded to himself. Buck reckoned they all smelled the bloodshed that could happen if folks got out of hand, and Chris was the best of them to talk hotheads down. Or scare 'em down, Buck amended, grinning. Either one worked fine by him.
Buck leaned forward on his elbows. "How're the townsfolk holding up?" he asked before JD could get back, keeping his voice low. He'd been a little worried; the residents didn't like trouble here, and it seemed like the Seven had dragged more than its fair share in past the city limits, kicking or screaming or chasing them down.
Vin chuckled. "Everybody's sellin' like hotcakes. General store, restaurants, Lucky's, the cigar store, livery... I reckon young Watson'll come around askin' if we can drag out the trial, at this rate."
Buck felt his eyebrows climb high; it hadn't occurred to him that trial spectators made for good business, but of course they would. He smiled and licked the rim of his mug where scant froth had flowed over, and listened with half an ear when JD returned to the table with a half pint of beer and ready gossip from Inez. She kept a sharp eye out for trouble, and JD had gotten pretty good at pinning down the men she thought spelled it.
Not ten minutes passed before Buck heard unfamiliar spurs rattle to a stop outside and Vin craned his neck around again, getting the better view from his vantage point nearest the window. A quiet voice leaked in beneath and betwixt the saloon's batwing doors.
"Excuse me." Good start, Buck decided. "Why are you protectin' that darkie?"
By now JD's hand had already dropped beneath the table, and Buck resisted the urge to cluck at him. Briefly. "Calm down, JD," he chided, leaning back to see out the seam by the door. "And hush so we can hear what's goin' on."
"You ever heard of somethin' called fair trial?" Chris's voice was pitched to provoke. Buck swallowed a smile.
"My family pulled up roots in Pennsylvania. We spent every dime we had on a plantation in South Carolina. My father, my brothers died in the war. I come back home to find scallywags and free Negroes had stole my land. Where's my fair trial?"
Chris was up and moving then, boot tip disappearing, boot heels thudding softly on the boards, spurs just barely jangling like the sleepy tail of a snake, and a shadow blocked Buck's peephole view. "Sheriff Stains, I don't give a damn about your past. You're in our town now."
Buck reckoned Chris might've had a bit more compassion if Stains hadn't tried to cross the judge. Fiercely loyal, was Chris – hell, just plain old fierce, Buck thought, feeling his blood heat up a little. There'd be a fight out there, if their unwanted visitor didn't back down.
"Come on," JD whispered, "let's go back him up."
"Ssst!" Buck shushed him.
Quieter, from outside, came, "I heard you're fast."
"I heard you're fast," Buck whispered, repeating the words for Vin and JD's benefit.
More steps, and when Chris stepped off the edge of the boardwalk, Buck got his view back: a narrow slice of Chris's right side, boot heel to hat brim; a shadowed part of the face of the man beyond Chris; angry sunlight glaring off the dirt in the street.
"I heard that, too."
Buck chuckled. It was just the kind of thing Chris liked to say when he knew he could take a man and didn't care who else knew it. "'I heard that too,'" Buck repeated, shaking his head fondly. "Cocky old rooster."
"He really said that?" JD asked with awe in his voice. The kid had given up all pretense of calm and eased around Vin to peek out the window. Buck resisted a sigh; at least he was staying back in the shadows, out of sight.
"Of course he did," Buck affirmed.
"There gonna be a fight, Buck?" JD asked.
"I doubt it," Vin, who had a better view of the scene out there, replied.
"I'm with you, Vin," Buck agreed. The sheriff had already lost this argument, just from the length of time he'd waited to reply. "JD," he said, turning back around and stretching his legs out under the table, "go fetch us another beer. And get a whiskey for Chris."
"Your legs broke?"
"Yours might be if you don't mind your betters," he threatened, and swung his head back for one last look as JD pelted over to the bar: everyone was still frozen out there, and any second Chris would just turn around and show his back, and walk away.
Chris did exactly that, a second after Buck thought it; his hat brim dipped in what Buck was sure was disdain, and Chris turned sideways and stepped back onto the boardwalk. "Keep your people in line," Chris said, a parting shot. "Because I won't have any problem at all taking care of every last one of 'em if they get step out of it."
"You don't always stay inside these city limits, Larabee," Stains said.
Chris's spurs stopped jingling and Buck leaned forward, at the ready, watched Vin do the same. Might be a fight after all. "You threatening me, sheriff?" Chris asked, his voice deadly quiet. Maybe just plain deadly.
"You and your kind could use a few of 'em," Stains said, then Buck heard the hack in the man's throat, knew he was spitting. It'd best be on the ground, and not anywhere in Chris's direction, or spit wouldn't be the only liquid Stains lost today.
Chris's laugh, low, eased Buck and aroused him. "Make all the threats you want. You got nothing to back 'em up." A second later the familiar jangle of Chris's spurs started up, and the clomp of his boots on the boardwalk.
Buck knew there was no way they could slip off for an hour – not even for the ten minutes he'd be willing to settle for right now. Even if Buck had been willing to take the risk with all these new folks in town, Chris would never do it. So he sighed and swallowed down the last third of his beer, and used his boot to push out a chair for Chris. He'd have to settle for enjoying the view and saving up all his sinful thoughts to spend later.
The door hinges squeaked, announcing Chris's arrival as JD trotted back holding two beer glasses by their handles in one hand and a shot glass in the other. Buck tilted his head to check on Chris, saw that he looked more annoyed than angry – probably at the lost opportunity to work off some of his frustration on Stains' ugly mug.
"Tired of the fresh air already?" Vin called quietly, smiling.
Chris huffed and settled into the empty chair at Buck's right, reaching for the whiskey JD set on the table at the same time. "Ain't none to be had," he said sourly. "Too much of a stench out there."
Buck nodded and tapped Chris's boot under the table with his own, earning himself a glare for his trouble and Chris moving his leg farther away. This wasn't the time, nowhere near it, but damn it, that didn't stop Buck from wanting the man.
"Court's gonna convene at two," JD announced, like that was news.
"I think we've all figured that out already," Buck said, sighing as he reached for his fresh beer.
"I've never been on a jury before," JD said, puffing up a little with youthful self-importance. "Least it guarantees me a seat inside for the show."
"Ain't no show, JD," Vin said, soberly enough that Buck glanced his way. He forgot, sometimes, that Vin could have been the one on trial as easily as Nathan's daddy. Forgot that a noose would likely be waiting for him if that trial ever took place.
"This is serious, JD," Chris affirmed, hard-voiced. "A man's life is on the line. If you think this is a game, you'd best go tell the judge you aren't fit to serve."
JD's mouth gawped open and Buck nudged the kid's glass toward him to get his attention before he could start talking. When JD met his eyes, face red with wounded pride, Buck shook his head sharply and spoke before JD could. "This ain't gonna be easy on any of us. What this jury decides could mean prison for Nathan's father, or a hanging. Could mean justice not getting served, JD. Hell," he said, forcing a chuckle and ducking his eyes before he got drawn any more deeply into the serious nature of all this, "I'd find a way to sneak out of it myself, if it weren't for that slick city lawyer, gettin' folks from Eagle Bend appointed."
"They aren't even residents," JD complained, as annoyed as they all were at seeing strangers' faces in a local jury.
"Well, we ain't exactly impartial," Buck said more pensively than he'd intended, "so maybe it'll even out."
A boot tapped his under the table and Buck tilted his head up, met Chris's concerned look head-on. It still startled him sometimes, to see Chris worry about him like that. He waved a hand, brushing off the concern, but Chris's face didn't change until Buck frowned at him and nodded.
"I know this is serious stuff," JD started in, missing Buck's exchange with Chris completely. "I didn't mean anything by that, I just—"
"—can't keep your mouth shut until you've stuck your whole foot in?" Vin asked, teasing mostly.
"That's right, Vin," Buck affirmed.
"That's not right and you both know it," JD said, swinging his head to glare at each of them equally. Chris, sitting between Buck and Vin, watched easily, looking calmer than he had a right to. "I'm gonna take things seriously, but I don't expect those other men to. I don't expect 'em to be fair, either."
The quick look Buck shared with Chris and Vin confirmed it; nobody did.
Still, they'd do what they could when they could, and until then Buck knew he had nothing better to do than enjoy his beer, his companions, and the promise of dark satisfaction that boiled his blood and soothed his soul when this was all over. He shot Chris a speaking look, and Chris frowned and pulled his boot away again.
Buck grinned; yep, Chris knew it too.
-the end-