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Walking Drag |
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Disclaimer: As is the story of my life - the really good ones are already taken. I'm just borrowing them for a little while. I will give them back sooner and later ;-) They belong to someone else.
Summary: Texas Marshall's are after Vin again.
Author's Note: This story is dedicated to Steelknight. For turning me onto M7 and for his patient comments regarding my first attempt at M7 slash!
"You stupid idiot," Vin growled, as they walked behind two horses in the hot New Mexico sun. "You stupid, ignorant, Cowboy. Couldn't just leave it alone, could you? Had to go and do something stupid." Vin kicked at a rock they were passing. "Now it ain't just me they're hauling back to Texas, now it's you too.""Shut up," Chris growled back, wiping the stinging sweat from his eyes with his bound hands.
"What you gonna do? Kill me? I think they'll have a problem with that." Vin gestured to the six mounted men surrounding them. "If they don't beat you to it."
"I said shut up."
They walked in silence for a few moments.
"Damn, I'm hot and I got a fucking rock in my boot."
Chris walked silently.
"I hate walking drag. All you ever get is dust, horse farts and shit," Vin complained, side stepping a recently deposited pile.
If there were ever a time that Chris Larabee seriously considered strangling Vin Tanner, it was at that moment. He thought he might enjoy it too.
"Bet you wish you weren't wearing black." Vin's dry laughter ate at what little self control Chris had left. "I wish they'd put my hat back on my head, that sun is frying my brain."
Chris turned an angry glare on Vin, but it had no effect on his friend. They were in trouble and they both knew it.
+ + + + + + +
It had started two days earlier, when Chris came riding into town to see Vin being escorted out of the hotel at rifle point by eight men. He pulled his horse up as Vin looked at him. Chris could see the look of defiance in those blue eyes. He turned to look at the lawman who aimed a rifle at him.
"Just get down off that horse real easy, Mister."
Chris settled a little deeper into his saddle, leaning forward onto the pommel. His eyes wandered between the eight men who were trying to take his friend away. The men began to twitch nervously as his glare settled on each one. So, he moved slowly and kept his hand away from his gun. He looked at the other five men he called friends. They all looked angry, but were being just as careful with their movements as Chris was.
"What's going on?" Chris asked the man leading the group across the street to where their horses stood. He had a pretty good idea, considering all eight of these men were wearing badges and looked like they were ready for a fight.
"Taking this boy in. He's wanted in Texas for murder, and we been sent to get him."
Chris slowly began to get off his horse. "Eli Joe confessed to that murder. He did it to put pressure on Vin, so he could get away." Chris believed it was a wasted effort, but eight men was more than he could shoot at once and it looked like the others had been disarmed. Where was Mary and her shotgun now, he wondered ironically.
A second rifle snapped up to cover Chris as he cleared the horse and turned around. "Real convenient story, Mister, but he's wanted dead or alive and we plan to see that money."
"You's wearing badges," Nathan pointed out from the steps of the hotel. "Ain't you interested in the truth?"
"Shut up!" A third man said. "Get the shackles on him and let's go."
"Shackles?!" Chris stepped forward until both rifles were brought firmly to bear. Damn, if it was Ezra on watch when this happened he was gonna kill him.
"Chris, don't. I ain't worth it," Vin said real quiet. He turned to face Chris as the shackles were put on him. That twisted in Chris' guts. He hated to see anyone chained up like that, especially Vin. But, Chris could see the plea in his eyes.
"Vin, you're innocent." Remember, I'm the one who killed the man who could clear your name?
As the second shackle was locked shut, Chris saw that Vin knew what he was thinking and with a small shake of his head, told Chris he didn't want him hurt. Just let it go. He tried to give Chris a smile to assure him he'd be all right, but it was cut short as someone yanked him towards a horse.
Chris got angry. He didn't like seeing his people yanked around by shackles, he didn't like the way these men were treating Vin, and he sure as hell, didn't like being held at gunpoint. How could Vin expect him to just let him be dragged back to Texas. He was about to take a step when he heard at least two more guns cocked.
"Move and you will die," a voice behind him said low and deep. Chris paused. He slowly and gently lifted his hands clear of his gun belt making it clear he wasn't going to cause trouble, and then turned around to face the leader.
"I'm telling you, he's innocent."
"I assure you Chris, we tried to convince them of Mr. Tanner's innocence, but as most Texans are want to do, they won't listen," Ezra said in a disgusted tone of voice.
"That ain't for us to decide. He's going to Texas to stand trial for murder."
"Where in Texas?"
"Tascosa, where he murdered an innocent man."
"You expect him to get a fair trial there?" Chris asked, taking a step forward. "You just as well string him up here." Then his world exploded to black.
He woke up to a bucket of water in the face, his hands shackled in front of him, and tied to the west end of an east bound horse. This was not good.
Two of the men stayed behind as Vin and Chris were dragged out of town. Vin for murder, Chris for obstructing justice. Before they left, Chris caught Buck's eye and got a small nod. They would take care of the two left behind and follow. But for now, Vin and Chris were both being taken to Texas, the hard way.
+ + + + + + +
Towards sunset, Vin was scanning the sky. Chris looked at him and Vin barely nodded his head in one direction. Up in the Sangre de Cristos Mountains, he could see black, angry clouds and the occasional strike of lightening. Big weather up in the mountains, a summer storm.
His thoughts were disrupted when he slowed down too much and got jerked forward by the shackles around his wrists. Wasn't bad enough the metal was rough and bit in, they were hotter than hell being out in the sun all day long. After several awkward steps, Chris got some slack in the rope and took up the plodding pace set by the horses.
By the time they stopped, Chris was ready to drop. Vin hadn't been kidding. His black outfit made him even hotter, and considering it was well up into the nineties, with no shade, Chris was suffering. And, since these Texas Marshals weren't stupid, he hadn't seen an opening yet.
They had taken all their weapons, pushed their hats off their heads, which after several hours produced a blinding headache. They gave them small sips of water three or four times a day. Just enough to keep them walking, but weak enough that to run would be suicide. Their hands were shackled with a rope tied to them securing them to different horses. And they weren't holding the ropes, they were tied off to the saddles, so it wasn't just a man they had to surprise, they somehow had to get loose from the horses themselves.
Damn them, Chris thought as his knees gave out and he sat down heavily. Vin joined him soon. They gratefully drank the small amount of water they were given. They sat there trying to gather their strength.
Vin reached down, pulled his boot off and shook it. A jagged pebble fell to the ground.
"You okay?" Chris asked.
Vin nodded as he slid the boot back on. Chris noticed Vin was sunburnt. He glanced down and took in the red angry scrapes and abrasions on Vin's wrists. He'd obviously been trying to slip out of the shackles, too. It also looked like he had been about as successful as Chris had been. "Foot's bruised. You?"
Chris just nodded. Really, he felt like throwing up. He realized he'd drank the small amount of water too quickly, and now he might further weaken himself by developing the dry heaves. He had stopped sweating several hours earlier and he was worried about heat stroke. His head, face and neck ached from the severe sunburn he had, to the point, his lips were chapped and facial expressions hurt. He had blisters on his feet that had ripped open during the day. The headache was like someone trying to put a railroad spike through his head. He wasn't sure he was going to make it to Texas.
"Liar."
Three men came towards them. Two held rifles, the other had leg shackles in their hands.
"Stick your feet out here."
Then both men had leg irons attached to them, but they were too tired and weak to fight. Chris moved his legs experimentally trying to get used to the extra weight and the sound. These would stay on them until tomorrow morning when they started walking again. Nope, these boys sure weren't dumb.
It was several moments later when he actually looked at where they were. They were on the west side of a dried out creek bed. He looked at Vin and wondered if these Texans knew what they were doing. He could see from the quirking of Vin's eyebrows that he had seen it to. If that storm had flooded upstream, this creek could fill during the night and trap them here. Just giving Buck more time to catch up with them. Chris began to feel a little bit of hope when one of them cried out.
"Hey, Billy!" The leader turned around. "Shouldn't we be on the far side of this thing. I mean, if it's raining in the mountains, this stream could fill up tonight."
The leader looked around, and then nodded. "Come on, you all. Let's move to the other side."
Vin and Chris were covered as the Texans started to move the camp to the far side of the creek bed. Vin just grimaced and put his head down on his arms and Chris exhaled heavily.
As the men moved their horses, he felt Vin get tense. At almost the same moment, the horses started to prance and snort.
"Settle down," One man called.
Chris swung his head to a cloud of dust coming at them. The entire situation sprang into his mind and he stood up. The man watching them pointed his gun at him. Chris drew in a breath to call a warning. Vin swept the feet of the man with the handgun just after he pulled the trigger. Chris watched everything in slow motion as the man fell backwards down into the creek bed. The horses started to rear and panic.
He swung his head North, just as a wall of water came around the bend of the river. The water was a wall of churning, murky, brown, with white foam along the edges. Sage, juniper, wood, rocks all boiling together as it slammed into the far side of the turn and thundered down on the men and horses standing in it's path. It was anything but quiet, but in a moment, Chris and Vin stood at the top of the creek bed - alone.
"Damn," Vin muttered. Then he looked at Chris and saw the blood. "Shit!"
"It's nothing. Let's see if anyone's alive," Chris said. The bullet had passed through his arm. It was clean, but right now, they were stranded out in the middle of nowhere, trussed up like turkeys. They had to find the keys to the shackles and leg irons, not to mention their weapons, otherwise, they were dead men.
Soon it was too dark, and Chris and Vin hadn't found anything of value, except a knife and about 25 rounds for a handgun that had been washed out of the unfortunate Texan's gun belt.
"Assuming there's no more rain tonight, the river'll go down," Vin stated as they worked their way back up the creek bed.
"Ain't gonna help us tonight, Vin."
"At least we got some water."
"Yeah."
They both scanned the horizon as the sun began to set. Nothing but dry New Mexico desert for miles and miles. A breeze kicked up a little dirt. Then a pack of coyotes started to yip and howl from somewhere nearby. Then a wind blew by them with a cold, wet smell.
"It's gonna get cold tonight."
Chris turned around, his frustration finally reaching the boiling point. "SHIT!" He kicked at a rock by his foot and almost knocked himself down as the leg iron jerked at his other leg. "I don't believe this." He yanked at the shackles holding his hands captive in front of him, and only succeeded in making his wrists bleed, and ripping the wound in his arm open. Then he turned to Vin and almost started laying into him, until those blue eyes pierced him. He saw nothing but understanding and compassion. Vin knew he was frustrated and would take whatever Chris doled out. His calm demeanor once more took precedence.
"What're we gonna do?"
Vin looked around for a moment, scenting the air, scanning the surrounding area. Then he nodded downstream. "We're gonna walk a little bit farther down the river and see if we can find a spot to hunker down for the night. Then we're gonna get some rest. You're gonna let me tend that arm of yours and if we're real lucky, some stupid little animal is gonna wander too close to us and we'll eat something." Without another word, Vin started walking.
Chris followed him, giving in to Vin's trapping and outdoors sense. He hadn't told Vin about his feet, he hadn't told him his headache hadn't gotten any better, and he hadn't told him his tongue felt real thick. Chris was sick. He had heat sickness. It was gonna be a bad night.
Soon they were sitting in a shallow depression on the edge of the creek bed. Vin thought it was safe from more flooding. Without a fire or anything else, Chris began to shiver in the cold night air, while his skin screamed from the sunburn. Vin had cleaned the gunshot wound and used his bandana to keep dirt out, and gathered some vegetation for them to eat, but Chris was starting to hurt. It was taking a conscious effort to not throw up the water he had drank, his stomach was rolling and cramping bad. He caught Vin staring at him and he raised an eyebrow and Vin shook his head.
"How bad?"
"Bad." Chris tried to suppress a shudder.
"I got nothing to start a fire with. Best I can do is act as a wind block for you."
Chris nodded feeling very tired and very achy. In fact, every joint in his body was throbbing, his head began to pound. He was taken by surprise when he threw up everything in his stomach. He groaned, but heard Vin move closer to him. He continued to throw up like a kid after their first Tequila drunk. Vin's hand closed on his shoulder as Chris wrapped his arms around himself, as his stomach desperately tried to get rid of the poisons in his body. Chris hadn't had dry heaves like this in years.
When it passed, a cool cloth was pressed into his hand. He wiped his face, trembling from exhaustion. He felt Vin guide his head and squeeze some of the liquid from the bandana into his mouth. He swished it around and then spit it out, knowing that to swallow now, was inviting another round of heaves. Then Vin left him, going back down to the river.
Chris leaned back against the wall of the depression and stifled a groan. His headache was now a sharp, incapacitating pain, that intensified every time he moved his head. Chris tried to get himself under control, but the trembling just became more violent, the headache was blinding and his stomach now ached from it's exertions.
"Lay back against the edge." Vin helped Chris lay back against the earthen wall of the depression, using his hat as a pillow. Chris curled up around his stomach, still shuddering violently. Vin wiped his face down again and Chris just licked at the dampness on his lips. Then, he opened his eyes as Vin lay down in front of him, blocking the wind and offering his own body heat to try to warm him.
Chris almost smiled. Boy, if I were in better shape, you'd wished you hadn't done this.
It took them several moments to get settled, their movements accompanied by the clink of the shackles and leg irons, but soon, although still trembling, Chris wasn't nearly so cold.
For Chris, the night was hell. Every movement brought pain, rocks dug into him like knives, any movement was painful. His head never stopped aching, in fact, it got worse until he almost cried out with the pain, but every time he moved, Vin moved with him, keeping him warm. Finally, he was taken by the shakes. He was freezing to death.
"Chris," Vin whispered quietly. "C'mere."
Chris rolled towards him, groaning at the discomfort, but he almost jumped when he felt Vin's bound hands come around his head and shoulders.
"Put your head on my shoulder and relax."
Chris objected at first until the warmth began to penetrate. Then he lay down readily, soaking up the warmth. He listened to Vin's slow, steady breathing, trusting him to keep him safe. The rest of the night passed quietly.
Chris woke disoriented, tired, sore, still in pain, and alone.
"Vin?" he croaked. His throat felt like he'd been drinking sand, but his head felt like he'd been drinking for days. Slowly, he worked his arms under him, lifting himself up. The bright morning sun seared his eyes and he cried out.
"Easy Chris, I'm just below you."
"What in the hell are you doing down there?"
"Making your life just that much better, Pard." Chris could hear the smile in Vin's voice and wondered what he had found.
"You found a gun to kill me?" Chris rolled on his back, covering his eyes with his bound hands.
"Not quite."
Chris uncovered his eyes when he sensed Vin beside him and saw him holding something. Vin shook it and Chris heard the blessed sound of keys jangling.
"Well, don't wait for a band to start playing. Get these fucking shackles off me."
He sighed as Vin knelt and released the shackles and leg irons. Vin helped him sit up and lean back against the wall. Nausea swept through Chris again, but he swallowed heavily and it passed.
"How you feeling?"
"Like shit."
"Well, your a few shades paler than that, but...." Chris jumped as Vin released the bandana on his arm. He watched Vin's face and looked at the wound. It was red and swollen. Their eyes met. It was infected. "Think you can make it down to the water?"
Chris just nodded, but his sharp inhale as he tried to stand up, brought Vin's arm under his arm and around his waist. "Blisters?"
"Yeah," Chris hissed feeling his feet go slick with blood. "You know the others followed us." He literally had to bite his lip to keep from screaming as they walked down the uneven creek bed.
"More'n likely, but we got some rain last night. Might've been enough to mess the trail up." Vin slowly helped Chris down to the small trickle of water that had been so dangerous the day before.
Each step was agony to Chris, and it took control not to cry out again. Chris sat down on a large flat rock, panting. He knew he was pale, and sweaty, but Vin never said anything, he just gently eased Chris' boots and socks off his feet. The whistle he let loose with let Chris know his feet were bad.
"Shit, Chris. You ain't gonna be able to walk back."
"You gonna carry me, Tanner?" Chris gave a short cry as Vin began to rinse his feet off.
"No, but we can't stay here. You gotta get out of the sun. Tell you what, I'll get these cleaned up and you just stay here for a few minutes, while I do some snooping around and see if I can find us a place to rest up for a day or two."
"Vin, we don't know if all those Rangers are dead." Chris grabbed Vin's arm. He didn't want him taking the chance of getting caught again.
"They're dead Chris. They got hung up down stream."
"All of them?"
"Yep."
Within an hour, Vin was helping Chris back up the creek bed to a small mine entrance. Chris wanted to either scream or pass out by the time they got there. Vin supported Chris a fair distance in and lowered him against the far wall. He lay back trying to catch his breath.
"I'm getting old, Tanner. Can't even walk by myself no more."
"Just rest, Chris," Vin murmured. "I'll be back in a little while. Try to get some rest." Chris watched him walk out of the mine, into the bright sunshine beyond.
What seemed like only a moment later, Vin was guiding him to lay down on a soft surface. Chris moaned, half awake, wondering where Vin had found blankets. Musta found them in the river, he surmised as he lay down only half conscious.
Chris didn't complain as Vin stripped his boots and socks off, knowing those blisters had to be exposed to air or they were going to go bad. He gasped once or twice as Vin had to strip his socks off the encrusted wounds. When he was done, Chris was only vaguely aware of Vin pulling another blanket over him. Chris couldn't suppress the round of shivers that ran through his body.
+ + + + + + +
Chris spent the rest of the day, shifting in and out of consciousness. He remembered Vin lifting his head and feeding him something, and he managed to keep the second cup down. He remembered a cool cloth on his face. A hand supporting him as he was again wracked by dry heaves. A calming voice, a gentle hand, hands covering him when he got cold, calming him when he started to move, warmth when he shivered, and concerned eyes watching him.
"You're gonna be okay Chris. Just rest."
He had strange dreams. When he saw Vin up on a horse, about to be hanged. He kept trying to shoot the rope, but his aim was off. "Vin!" he screamed as the body began to jerk and he knew Vin was dying.
"Chris, it's Vin. Just calm down, Pard. Everything's fine. I'm right here."
He watched, in slow motion, as he stepped up behind Vin as Eli Joe raised the knife, and out of sheer gut reaction, he shot him dead. He saw Vin's eyes go cold as he stared at him. He had just killed the only man who could clear Vin's name. He pulled away from Chris. In his dream, he reached out to touch him, but Vin stepped back.
"You killed him."
"Vin, don't," Chris whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to kill him. He was gonna kill you. I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Chris. You was just saving my life. I can't rightly blame you for that."
Scene after scene of Vin jumping out to save somebody, Vin putting himself in the line of danger. The fire that had killed his wife and son, and then Vin in the inferno dying with them, his screams echoing through Chris' mind.
"Stop taking chances. I can't watch you die, too!"
"I ain't gonna die, Chris. You ain't getting rid of me that easy."
Cool water on his lips. "Swallow, Chris."
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