Part 14 Now Cracks a Noble Heart .Good-night, sweet prince. Shakespeare, Hamlet Act V, sc. 2
Nathan did his best to examine the wound in JD´s chest. Dunne no longer clutched the dog but Beau´s massive head rested across his legs. He leaned back against a support post. The over hanging roof offered no protection from the autumn sun. The warmth, however, was welcomed.
Buck held JD´s shirt back off the wound. The blood slowly oozed from the jagged hole.
“Buck lets set´im up some.” Together Buck and Nathan leaned JD forward. The young man hissed at the movement but swallowed his discomfort when his eyes once again fell to the dog. An unwelcome but familiar ache glowed with renewed vigor.
JD groaned.
“We´re almost done JD,” Nathan mistook the sound of agony. Though both pains nearly manifested in a physical manner, the most prominent spilled no blood.
Josiah made his way back to the trio when Standish exited the livery with Chaucer. The large gelding, excited by the earlier bout of gunfire, danced and fought the rein. Standish seemingly ignored it.
The large man made his way between Buck and Nathan. With a sorrowful look and a tight smile for JD, the large man gathered up the body of the dog.
Nathan´s eyes lingered only for a few seconds before skipping to the man sitting atop the horse.
Jackson couldn´t help but watch...couldn´t help but stare, just as everyone else. Buck, JD, Vin and even Chris who spoke quietly to a sniffling, crying Billy over in front of the Clarion.
They watched out of concern and a fiendishly hard sense of macabre curiosity.
Chaucer danced and pawed the ground. He shied twice when Josiah attempted to heft the body up over the front of the saddle. Ezra reined the horse trying to keep it still.
On the third attempt Chaucer side stepped away from the preacher...Ezra cuffed the horse sharply just below the ear, knocking the big chestnut head to the side. Acid words bit out harshly in reprimand.
Nathan recognized the angry biting sounds of wounded grief.
Chaucer stood still as Josiah laid the dog in front of the saddle. He spoke a few words to the gambler resting a steadying hand on Standish´s lower leg. Nathan silently wondered who sought more comfort now....Josiah or Ezra.
Jackson couldn´t hear the words but soon Ezra was shaking his head ‘No´ and reined his horse out of town.
Vin slid from the livery calling Ezra´s name. After a few steps Standish stopped and gazed over his shoulder. Tanner quietly closed the distance and handed the gambler a shovel.
Nathan nodded in understanding. Ezra wouldn´t be able to dig the grave without the shovel.
Grief sometimes took the daily use of commonsense and destroyed it for a time.
“Come on JD let´s git ya up stairs,” Buck gingerly hauled JD to his feet. Wilmington did his best to swivel his focus from Dunne to Standish.
He gave his full attention to JD when the young sheriff sagged in his gasp, “Nathan,” Buck´s worried gasp had Jackson latching on to JD´s other arm.
The three men moved as one toward the clinic.
Vin watched the retreating figure of horse and rider. The dark shadow of the dog hung like obscene saddle bags from this distance. Tanner stood with arms down, his back to town.
Josiah helped Silace gather up the bodies of the outlaws. They lay where they had fallen, in drying pools of blood. Dust and dirt floated in the congealing liquid. It appeared to be Nature´s attempt to integrate or cover up the scars left by the intrusions of others.
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The small clinic seemed darker. The air heavier.
Nathan wrapped JD´s chest and shoulder. He and Buck had scrubbed any signs of blood stains away from the skin. The bullet wound had been left open to close on its own. The fear of abscesses kept Jackson from stitching it. The misshapen bullet had been removed. The very idea of going after it had been initially dismissed by Jackson. It normally was not necessary nor wise to dig for bullets....unless under specific circumstances. In the scrubbing of the wound, however, they could feel the lead jagged foreign body. Out of curiosity and the inability to ignore the urge to go after it, Nathan widened the wound and with skill born from too much repetition removed the bullet.
The cone shape head of the bullet had been blunted and sheared. Its soft side had been forced back like a banana peel with multiple flaps. Bone had created most of the distortion...Bone...solid bone. Perhaps a vertebrae or maybe even the thin bone of a rib. Jackson thought of the pulverized bone....they would have to have been pulverized.
The dog saved JD. Nathan thought the miracle lay in the dog .better yet the man who directed the dog. Ezra you unselfish bastard Jackson closed his eyes .why must good deeds be so painful?
Nathan stepped back out of the way and leaned against his desk. He held the small sharp bullet within his finger tips. He rolled it unconsciously as he watched Buck.
Wilmington leaned forward in his chair, his forearms resting on his knees. His lips moved silently.
Was it a prayer...Was Buck looking for help from the great beyond...perhaps asking forgiveness or making amends...or maybe he was offering up a simple thank you? Nathan had learned to accept all religions he encountered it offered an anchor to those drowning in loss.
Jackson couldn´t discern the truth of the words nor the meaning of them....but he understood the intentions.
Buck Wilmington had been spared the grief and daggers of loss that now speared Ezra.
In that narrow escape, Buck twisted and dangled in the cross winds of thankfulness and guilt.
Jackson left the room keeping to the shadows. In the fresh air of mid afternoon, he leaned against the railing of his small clinic and watched the world go by as if nothing had happened today. His eyes traveled main street as citizens quickly built up courage to venture outside.
Josiah crossed the street heading toward the clinic. Vin and Chris stood together at the end of the boardwalk keeping an eye on the direction the gambler had disappeared with his burden.
Nathan shut his eyes closing out the brightness of the day. Voices and laughter rang up the street. It sounded so out of place.
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The sun struggled to keep its hold on the land. It seemed to waver and flutter with exertion just on the horizon. The land for a passage of time found itself cast in the strange orange glow of an autumn sunset.
The saloon rang with the beginnings of a loud Thursday night crowd. Five peacekeepers sat nursing beers.
Buck leaned back in his chair fingering the sweat that ran down the side of his glass. JD had woken up. He had smiled at Buck and started to tease his large friend about the mothering routine...but cut it off short when memory slammed back home. The intrusion had been abrupt and rude. All humor had escaped the sheriff.
Buck had stayed until JD drifted back to sleep.
“He back yet?” Nathan rolled his glass on its bottom rim. He didn´t pick his eyes up to meet the others. Somehow he felt like a failure. Unfounded, untrue but the feeling persisted. Embarrassed by his inability to bring back the dead.
“Nope,”
“I´ll go check on him,” Josiah began to push himself from the table. Buck quickly mimicked the action.
“No,” Larabee´s soft word landed with the sound of a command with a ring of askance. The others paused and stared at him. “I´ll go,” In fluid motion much like Mercury in a tube, the gunman gained his feet.
The others watched. “Chris?” Buck hesitated, unsure of Larabee. Chris had no vendetta against the conman...no dire need to see the man suffer but Chris had suffered the greatest loss of all of them.
“I´ll go Buck,” Larabee caught and held Wilmington´s eye. For a moment fury seared across the hazel eyes. Wilmington bit his tongue and tried to find faith in Larabee´s intention.
Chris would not hurt or belittle Ezra on purpose.
The four peacekeepers watched as Larabee wove his way across the saloon. The jingle of spurs pitched higher than the deep voices of surrounding patrons. Towns people watched him with covert eyes. An air of unforgiving danger seemed to pulse from his very person.
The dark gunslinger stopped at the bar and asked for something. Inez nodded, reached under the bar and handed him a bottle of her finest. Dark brown eyes lingered on the retreating duster. Soft words quietly passed rosy lips. Inez asked a favor of her God. Protect these men protect them from each other tonight.
Wavering in between shadow and waning daylight Larabee melted from the room and out the batwing doors.
The halves thumbed together in a slow ominous sound. Wind spiraled dirt at the entrance.
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Chris reined the black next to Chaucer.
The chestnut gelding stood quietly. The frisky devil may care attitude that mimicked its rider in most times had disappeared.
Larabee searched the immediate area until his gaze fell to his missing man. The tall meadow grass hid Standish from a casual glance. The grey shadows of dusk dimmed his outlines.
Long slow strides took Chris through yellowing prairie grass. The once vibrant green color now faded to light brown. A small mound of dirt disturbed the area. Heavy rocks had been placed over and around the loose dirt to protect the body underneath from scavengers. The rocks would only prevail if the grave had been dug deep enough. Hungry predators and scavengers knew how to tunnel.
Chris paused. He let his eyes rove over the small area. A tree sat a few yards away. Far enough so its roots did not hinder the digging process. Ezra had dug graves before....and probably not just his own. The small knoll rose enough to offer a pleasant view of a grassy meadow down below. Trees lined it´s edges and beyond that sat the river. Through the shifting greys of dusk, Chris could just make out the large tree Buck and Josiah had tied the rope swing too.
It happened to be just over Vin´s favorite fishing spot. What a fight that had brought on....not a knock down drag out fight...but more of a dirty tricks campaign. Somehow Standish had made a profit off the clash.
Chris circumvented the grave and the shovel that stuck from the ground. With bottle in hand, he sat down beside the gambler.
Larabee kept his eyes straight ahead. He kept his gaze on the horizon watching the subtle changes in colors that painted the sky. He kept his eyes forward, unprying, in an attempt to keep grief private.
Silence hung heavy in the air. The sound of a grazing horse rumbled in the background. Chaucer stood quietly uninterested in eating.
Larabee sat forward knees bent. He popped the cork off the bottle and took a swig. The bottle was even shaped differently than Red Eye Whiskey. The smooth flavor, the sweetness that hallmarked the specialty of this bottle, was drowned in the grief.
Chris swung the bottle by its neck. He held it resting his elbows on bent knees. For a while he watched the liquid slosh back and forth. His thoughts tumbled over themselves images of Sarah and Adam, impressions of Buck. Jumbled pictures tainted with darkness. Grief gripped his heart, then anger....his eyes skiffed to the man beside him.
Standish did not ask for company he did not beg for understanding.
Larabee clenched his teeth and took another pull.
The trees down the slope had lost their natural hues and became dark silhouetted shadows. The sky had lost its vibrant colors and dimmed to a slate grey.
Larabee proffered the bottle to Standish without turning his head.
He respected the privacy and solitude that the other man escaped too.
“I apologize,” The whispered southern words dripped with shame. Why was this man here? Of all people, why him?
It took Chris by surprise...but he held his gaze forward. Sudden conversation or movement felt intrusive. Somehow, in the heavy hues of grey, the brandy left Larabee´s hand.
Standish gulped a drink from the bottle.
“For what?” Larabee took the bottle back and studied the label.
The sound of crickets filled the pregnant pause. Clouds had darkened but held a ring of light around their edges. A soft breeze wisped across the grass bending it just enough to expose its lighter side.
“It´s just a dog,”
Chris finally understood the apprehension on Buck´s face....he came to comprehend the uncertainty in the others eyes when he had stood from the table. It was just a dog. How could this loss be compared to the loss of a wife and child?
Was this why Standish sat alone in the dark next to a freshly dug grave..a grave he dug alone? Because it was just a dog? A dumb dog and therefore did not deserve the pain and grief its death inflicted? Was Ezra ashamed that he grieved so, for the loss of a simple dog? How would Chris tolerate someone pining over the meager death of a mere animal? And three years ago Chris might of killed the dog out of spite....two years ago he might have scoffed.....but today now with these men....this town....he had changed.
Chris nodded it was just a dog.
A simple, dumb animal that had stuck by Standish´s side loyally for the last 8 months. An ignorant beast that had believed the sun rose and set on a southern gambler that at one time would have sold his own soul for a profit. A vile, cantankerous, slobbering, ill mannered beast that followed the gambler like a lost puppy. Just a simple dog that only wanted to impress his adopted owner....a dog so dedicated it followed commands and orders out of a belief that its owner acted in its best interest.
It was only a dog.
“It´s because its only a dog,” Larabee kept his gaze on the horizon. At the point of contact, sky and land seemed bathed in blackness.
Ezra shook his head. He dropped his forehead to his forearms hiding his grief.
Chris took another swallow. Did Buck and the others really think he would disparage Standish for the loss of Beau? Did they think he would be so selfish as to not understand.
“The pain´s not the same Ezra, not even comparable.....,” Chris finally turned his attention to the man beside him .Apples and Oranges He did not force the Southerner to look him in the eyes. He would not embarrass Standish and witness his tears if any should fall, “but.... it doesn´t make it any less.”
They sat in silence. Chris held the neck of the bottle as if it were a life line...and he had thought it had been for so long.....until this dust bowl of a town grabbed a hold of him...until these six men gathered around him...it was then he had learned that Buck Wilmington had been his life line despite the bottle. These other five men had hauled him to safety. They had done the same for JD without realizing it....and Chris would not tarnish Buck´s efforts nor the others ,not now.
Larabee would not belittle Standish.
Back in the shadows, under the over hanging canopy of the great Oak, stood Josiah and Buck. They clung to the dark recesses of the tree and watched the two silhouettes that sat at the edge of the knoll. Two dark backs facing a sunset. Occasionally a bottle was passed between Chris and Ezra. Sanchez and Wilmington waited quietly, dark spectres keeping an eye over their charges.
The grey sky became night. Stars revealed themselves slowly and the wind died down.
The bottle emptied as the moon faded in and out behind clouds.
After a bit of time Standish lay back on the grass, his coat missing, his cavat balled up by the shovel and his vest stuffed haphazardly in saddle bags. He draped a dirt stained sleeve over his eyes.
A few moments passed before Chris pushed himself to his feet and got their sleeping rolls.
Josiah and Buck faded into the night.
The end.
Though I´m dead my soul shall love thee still. James Hammond, Elegies.No.xiii.
Epilogue:
The seven rode across the rolling prairie in a slow trot. The early morning sun just crested the trees at their backs. As the sun rose, higher Standish´s complaints about early morning travel increased in volume and content. Chris wondered what the correlation was between the two. The man never shut up. Larabee would try for patience if that didn´t work he´d gag the mouthy SOB.
Vin seemed to read his thoughts, “It´s the Judge´s fault, he shoulda gave us more warning we coulda left yesterday.”
The Judge had requested their presence at Eagle Bend a show of Lawfulness. The others understood what he meant. Travis thought there would be trouble at the up coming trial and he wanted seven guns to keep the peace. The twisted logic made perfect sense.
Chris started to nod but Vin continued, “Course if he don´t shut up by the end of an hour I´ll help ya gag´im.”
Larabee lead the other six up over a small knoll. A large gnarled Oak Tree sat at the top like a warden to all the area. Chris trotted passed the tree and let his eyes fall to the patchy white washed crooked picket fence that leaned and swayed in defiance of gravity. A crooked rough wooden cross sat the head of a small, grass covered grave. Old flowers lay wilted and brittle. Water would do them little good. The valley lay below lay hidden under the frost of mid winter.
The scenery would have been peaceful except for the endless prattle of useless Southern tinged complaints.
The other six gathered around Larabee to spell the horses. The soliloquy of malcontent fizzled into silence.
Chris turned his head to hide his smile. Standish had never returned to the spot where he had buried Beau. It seemed that he when he had buried his dog he tried to buried all his ties to it.
Standish reined Chaucer over the grave he had dug so many months ago. The ache had dulled considerably. He no longer had the constant sharp sting of grief and his comrades no longer had to avoid the subject of the dog.
Chaucer rubbed his nose against the rickety fence. It swayed dangerously.
The others slowly walked their horses a little closer but maintained some distance. JD had no such restrictions and instead rode his little bay up next to Chaucer.
“Casey the others made the fence it ain´t much but... ” Dunne wanted desperately to explain that Casey and he and the others, Billy and Mrs. Potter´s kids, wanted to do something. Bo had been their friend too. He had meant something to the town´s youngest and they needed to express their grief and solidarity to the gambler. Ask the kids and they would have just said they missed Bo too and that they wished Mr. Standish would go back to smiling like he used too.
JD never got a chance to utter a defense. Looking at the falling down fence and the scribbled name, he felt his face blush with foolish embarrassment. Their efforts had not withstood even one season. The cross Casey and Billy fashioned leaned to the side barely keeping itself upright.
Dang Ezra´s gonna think they trashed the grave. He´s gonna think we ruined everything....Hell even the flowers are dead, too dang cold to keep any type of flowers alive but heck they should´ve probably thrown them out. But they ain´t been back in weeks…..too cold.
“Geez Ezra I didn´t think it looked so ba....”
Ezra silenced the young sheriff with a subtle shake of his head. A dimpled grin widened on his face as he read the hand painted inscription on the not so quite horizontal board of the cross. It simply read….. “Bo”
Ezra´s smile turned into a chuckle, “Its perfect Mr. Dunne....truly perfect.” Standish held out his hand in thanks. JD latched onto it, grinning with pride. Maybe it don´t look too bad after all.
A faithful friend is the medicine of life…..Apocrypha: Ecclesiasticus,
The end.....(again).