Having located their horses and weapons, Ezra and JD debated trying to follow the bandits. At least, JD urged this course of action, while the gambler insisted they must return to town. With the sheriff injured and with Vin at risk, he insisted that the more prudent course would be to return to Four Corners to inform the others.
The gambler was all too aware that this course was not without its own dangers. After all, having to break the news to Chris Larabee that they had allowed outlaws to take an injured Vin Tanner was hardly conducive to their own continued good health. However, he still considered it the right course of action and persuaded JD to agree.
So the sheriff put Vin’s mare’s leg into his saddlebags and they set off.
Upon arrival at Four Corners, they decided to seek out the other four and ask them all to go to the sheriff’s office, since they wanted there to be no risk of anyone else hearing what had transpired and it would mean they did not have to repeat the story. Hopefully, the other men would also help to calm the inevitable eruption of Larabee fury.
Firstly, Ezra went for the preacher and JD for the healer. Josiah was amenable to the request, but Nathan wanted to check out JD’s head wound and only reluctantly accepted the kid’s promise to allow him to examine it as soon as the urgent news that he and Ezra had to impart was told.
The gambler then located Buck at the boarding house, busy sprucing himself up for his evening’s date. Wilmington tried his best to elicit immediate details since he was certain that the secrecy meant that the pair had failed to carry out the judge’s orders and had got themselves into some kind of strife. Being Buck, he anticipated obtaining some amusement out of whatever mess the two were in and so was anxious to hear all. However, Ezra was insistent that no potentially public communication could be made and so the ladies’ man followed the gambler to the sheriff’s office, while still bombarding him with questions.
Larabee was also suspicious and inclined to refuse to leave his place at the bar merely to hear their tale of woe, unbelievable excuses and request for aid in sorting out whatever scrape they had managed to get themselves into this time. Indeed, his reluctance to leave the warmth of the saloon for the chill of a winter’s evening was so strong that eventually a desperate JD had to say, "It’s about Vin," while making a hurried exit.
He then fair raced along the street to the jail, aware that the deadly gunslinger was bearing down upon him at a vast rate of knots.
JD flung the door open and darted inside. Then, scant seconds later, Larabee followed him in. He glared at Ezra and JD, but before he could demand an explanation, he was forestalled by the ladies’ man’s reaction to the sight of the sheriff
As soon as Wilmington spotted the blood on JD’s face and the rough bandage round his head, he rushed across the room, demanding to know what had happened and why in hell the kid wasn’t getting Nathan to look at the injury.
"I’m okay," JD insisted. "Just let us tell you what’s happened and then Nate can look at it."
The gambler had been trying to decide the best way to tell the story and had decided to start with the good news. Accordingly, he now said smoothly, "You will all undoubtedly be pleased to learn that our commission for Judge Travis was carried out satisfactorily."
However, the gunslinger showed no interest at all in that piece of information. "What’s happened to Vin?" Chris demanded bluntly.
Taken aback, Ezra glanced at JD. "I had to mention Vin to get Chris to come, Ezra," the sheriff said apologetically.
"Tell me!" the gunslinger insisted.
"He’s been kidnapped!" JD blurted.
"Do ya mean someone’s taken him for the bounty?" Buck asked.
"No, to stop you identifying Johnny MacFarlane at the trial."
"What? But why would they take Vin?" Buck asked in confusion.
JD blushed guiltily. "They think he’s me," he admitted.
"Why in hell would they think that?" Chris demanded.
"Because Vin and Ezra said he was and when I tried to disagree no one would believe me and he had my badge and I tried to say it was mine and …"
"Hold it!" Chris snapped, breaking JD off in mid babble. "Standish, you tell us and in words of one syllable"
So the gambler duly complied, managing to produce a very clear explanation in a minimum of words, in stark contrast with his habitual verbosity.
"Well, I dunno why ya can’t always talk like that," Wilmington drawled, his calm manner belying his whirling thoughts, as he considered their options.
JD was incensed that from his demeanour Buck seemed to believe that Vin and Ezra had done the right thing. "They should have taken me," he insisted. "I’m not a damned kid!"
"No, JD," Chris said, "I have to agree with Ezra. Vin’s got a better chance of gethn’ away from them, and like Ezra said, yer hurt."
"Yeah, but so was Vin. He got shot too," JD protested.
Larabee turned ice-cold, green eyes on the gambler. "Ya didn’t say Vin was hurt," he accused.
"I fear I was unfortunately not cognizant of Mr Tanner’s injury. Mr Dunne informed me of it after the events that I have narrated to you."
"That’s true," JD admitted. "Ezra was surprised when I told him."
"How badly was he hurt?" Nathan questioned.
"I don’t know. I couldn’t see. I just saw him poking his bandanna under his coat."
The gunslinger swore and said, "Why can’t that damned Tanner admit it when he’s hurt. It’s bad enough normally, but this ... Hell! I’ll wring his scrawny neck for him when I find him."
Nobody commented. All knew that if anybody could dare Chris Larabee’s wrath with impunity it was the slender sharpshooter. The scruffy tracker had unaccountably breached all his carefully constructed defences the moment they had met and had the gunslinger’s heart and soul in his keeping. No, Vin was in no real danger from Chris Larabee, but anyone who harmed him had signed his own death warrant. Larabee would not rest while anyone who had hurt Vin still breathed.
"What do you think we should do, Chris?" Josiah asked.
"Well, I know the one thing we ain’t doin’. We ain’t givin’ in to MacFarlane’s blackmail. Vin’d likely be dead the moment Johnny was back with his brother."
"Perhaps we could buy time by getting the trial delayed," Nathan suggested.
"Yeah, maybe the judge might agree to pretend to be ill or something," Buck added.
"Possibly," Larabee agreed, "but meantime we need to think about where those bastards are likely to be. Get yer map out, JD. I reckon they won’t be too far from town because they’ll probably want to keep an eye on what’s goin’ on. Also, if the worst comes to the worst from their point of view, and Buck sticks to his testimony, they’ll probably want to be near enough to try to snatch young MacFarlane."
Dunne rummaged in a drawer, found what he was seeking, and proceeded to spread a large map out upon the desk.
"Okay, now where were ya when MacFarlane stopped ya?"+ + + + + + +
Vin had felt very relieved when the outlaws had swallowed his and Ezra’s lies. He could not have stood there and let the men take the kid. Even though Larabee no longer loved him, he would be furious with Vin for undertaking the charade with a bullet wound in his side, but the tracker could not see what else he could have done.
As they rode along, he tried to distract his mind from the pain coursing through him by picturing Chris’ wrath. He definitely would not like to be in Standish and Dunne’s shoes when they told the gunslinger. ‘Hell, Chris’lI probably shoot them and then come out here and shoot me,’ he thought wryly.
After a few miles he decided he would welcome that after all. His side felt as if a red-hot poker was being jabbed into it, his eyes were blurring and his head was swimming. With his wrists bound behind him, his padded bandanna was no longer pressed to the wound and he was bleeding steadily. It was all he could do to stay upright in the saddle.
He wanted to just close his eyes and embrace the darkness, but fought against the impulse. A fall would do the injury no good and he was still trying to conceal the wound from his captors. Suddenly, a harsh voice cut in on his thoughts. "This is as far as we go, kid. Get down!"
Vin blinked to clear his vision and glanced around. He recognized the old miner’s shack and knew they were within an hour’s ride from Four Corners. His mind was rapidly visualizing the stretch of land between the camp and the town. He planned to be traversing that as soon as he could.
"Didn’t you hear me, Dunne?" MacFarlane asked, impatiently. "Get down now!"
Vin kicked a foot out of the stirrups and looked apprehensively at the uneven ground. Dismounting would have been awkward enough with his injury at any time, but with his hands tightly bound behind him it was going to be tricky.
He hesitated too long for MacFarlane, who reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him from the saddle.
Vin lost his footing and fell to his knees, gasping in pain as he jolted his side.
"Get up, boy," MacFarlane ordered.
The tracker glared up at him and made no move to comply. "Get stuffed," he muttered defiantly. He knew resistance would not go well for him, but he would be damned if he would comply with his kidnappers’ commands.
The outlaw backhanded him across the face, snapping his head back and splitting his lip. "You’re going to learn some respect while you’re here, boy," he growled.
"Not fer the likes of you I ain’t," the tracker responded.
"That’s what you think, kid. By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll be doing exactly what I want without argument." He turned to one of the others. "Morgan, you get him on his feet."
"Okay, boss," the big man replied. He grabbed hold of Vin’s jacket collar and hauled him effortlessly upright.
Vin’s legs were unsteady and he would have gone straight back down had the man not kept a grip on his jacket.
"Right, boy, I want you to tell me about Wilmington and Larabee," Kev ordered.
Vin just looked at him. In truth, he was not sure exactly what the man wanted to know.
"Speak up!" MacFarlane rapped.
"What about them?"
"I hear they’re real close friends. How much influence does Wilmington have on Larabee?"
"Huh?"
‘Do you reckon he can get Larabee to do what we want?"
"Nobody makes Larabee do nothin’ he don’t want to do."
"Well, you’d better hope he wants to do my bidding, boy. Your life depends upon it."
"And yer life ain’t worth shit iffen ya get Larabee’s back up," Vin retorted.
"You’ve got a smart mouth on you, kid. I’m going to enjoy teaching you a few manners. I was planning give you a bit of a hard time just because of Wilmington, but I reckon you’re asking for it anyway. However, it’s been a long day and I’m ready for some food, so you’ll have a few minutes to think about what’s going to happen to you. " He turned away and said, "You get a fire lit, Dave, and rustle us up some grub."+ + + + + + +
Meanwhile, the other six had reluctantly agreed that their search for Vin would have to wait for daybreak. Larabee and Josiah had gone to see the judge, as they had decided it was best to enlighten him as to what had transpired. Nathan was at his clinic seeing to a patient, while the other three had gone to the saloon.
Once there, Ezra had immediately joined a poker game. JD had declined his invitation to play and had ensconced himself at a back table, so Buck elected to join him. However, instead of being his usual talkative self, JD was uncharacteristically silent. Finally, Buck could stand it no longer, "Are ya feelin’ okay, JD? Is yer head painin’ ya?" he questioned solicitously.
"It is throbbing a bit," JD admitted, "but I was really thinking about Vin."
"We’ll find him, kid, don’t ya worry," Buck promised reassuringly.
"Yeah, but ... but it wasn’t that exactly. I was thinking about how he didn’t even hesitate to give himself up to those men for me."
"That’s our tracker. He’d jump in front of a bullet for any of us, no matter how much old Chris threatens to wring his neck for takin’ risks."
"I know, but when I think how unfair I’ve been to him lately ... I just ... I just …" He trailed off helplessly.
"What do ya mean by ‘unfair’?" Buck questioned.
"I thought he was after Casey. I guess I just didn’t want to believe that it was her making the running. It was easier to blame him. I should have known better. Hell, Vin’s more likely to run from a female rather than even speak to her, let alone seduce her."
Suddenly, the thought hit him. "You knew!" he accused. "Why didn’t ya tell me? I can handle such things. I’m not a kid!"
"Yeah, well I was kinda hopin’ you and Casey’d make thin’s up and ya know the old sayin’ ‘Least said, soonest mended’."
"I didn’t mean that, though you should have told me that too, I meant about Chris and Vin."
Buck looked awkward. "Ch-Chris and Vin?" he questioned, playing for time and wondering just what the kid knew.
"Them being … um ... well ... uh ... lovers."
"Who told ya that?" Buck asked, glancing quickly around to check that nobody could overhear their conversation.
"Ezra did. Why didn’t you tell me?"
"It wasn’t my secret to tell. Ya gotta understand, JD, that it ain’t legal in the eyes of the law, so they don’t want too many others to know."
"But you knew and Ezra did and I’m betting Nathan and Josiah know too."
"Yeah, but ..."
But nothing! I’m one of the group. I should have been told," JD retorted angrily.
"I s’pose ya should. I thought about it. I just didn’t know how ya might react?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, ya remember when Chris was away with the judge escorting that Senator McMillan."
"Yeah."
"Well, ya’ll recall that someone beat Vin up."
"Yeah, but we never found out who it was."
"The man confessed, JD."
"And nobody told me. I’m the sheriff! I should have been told."
"It was Josiah," Buck said quietly.
JD’s mouth dropped open. "Josiah did that to Vin? Why on earth ... I-I mean Vin had a broken arm, so he wouldn’t have started it."
"Mrs Travis had stirred him up. She told him that Vin had seduced Chris and had wrecked her hopes of marriage. Josiah got drunk and ... well, ya saw the results."
"I wouldn’t have thought Josiah would react like that."
"Well, he apologized later, but ya can understand that we tried to keep thin’s quiet as the more people who knew the more likely it was to spread and lots of people would react as Josiah did at first."
"But I wouldn’t have told anyone," JD protested.
"I wouldn’t have thought Ez would have done either, but he’s told ya and so could’ve told others."
"I doubt it."
"So, how’d he come to tell ya?"
"When we were in Eagle’s Bend, we had a bit of trouble," JD said and proceeded to explain…+ + + + + + +
They had been in the saloon. Ezra was playing poker and JD was watching him, when a raddled woman, easily old enough to be the kid’s mother had started making up to him.
At first, JD had tried to be polite, but she ignored all his attempts to excuse himself and was all over him like a rash, much to the amusement of a nearby table of cowboys, some of whom were calling out words of encouragement to the woman.
"Please, Ma’am, I’m just waiting for a friend," JD had insisted. "I’m not in need of company."
However, ‘no’ was apparently not a word in her limited vocabulary and she had persisted to his considerable embarrassment.
Finally, Standish had taken pity on him. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, as he rose from the table, "I profoundly regret that circumstances dictate that I must leave you to perform a mission of mercy. My young friend seems to have fallen prey to a particularly predatory ... ah ... Well, I am afraid the word for such an apparition temporarily escapes me, but it behoves me to assist in the preservation of his virgin status since his mother entrusted him to my tender care and protection upon our current excursion."
Then, under the gleeful eyes of most of the saloon’s occupants, he had glided to JD’s side. "May I suggest we have an early night, Mr Dunne, because we face the dismal prospect of a long, uncomfortable ride tomorrow."
"I could offer him a much more pleasant ride," the woman purred brazenly, "and I’m sure the boy would enjoy it. Wouldn’t you, honey?" she said, sliding an arm around the blushing sheriff’s waist. Without waiting for a reply, she fluttered her eyelashes at the gambler and added, "And I’m certain I could accommodate a handsome gentleman such as yourself as well."
The gambler turned a look of utter disdain upon her. "Madam, please be so kind as to take yourself off. Doubtless there may be some in this town who might be ardent admirers of your somewhat jaded charms, but I am not numbered amongst them."
The woman bristled visibly and snapped, "I should have known you were one of those useless nancy boys. I suppose the boy is more to your taste." With that parting shot, she had flounced off.
However, far from being in any way offended or shamed by such a public accusation, Ezra turned to wink at his former opponents before replying in heartfelt tones, "He most certainly would be if you were the only alternative, madam."
Totally embarrassed and furious with the gambler, JD hurriedly retreated from the room, his ears burning as he heard the laughter from the men at the surrounding tables.
Moments later Ezra had strolled nonchalantly into their room as if nothing untoward had happened.
"Why on earth did you say that?" JD demanded angrily.
"I was desirous of dissuading that creature from bestowing her odious attentions upon either of us.,’
"But to say ... to suggest something so disgusting ... so ..."
As JD babbled on in this vein, Ezra at first tried to ignore him, but finally could stand it no more. With an image of Vin foremost in his mind, Standish uncharacteristically tossed aside his usual circumspection, and instead of sensibly allowing the remarks to slide, commented with some asperity, "Such a relationship does not automatically merit such a pejorative adjectives. Some men that I esteem most highly are, shall we say, very close."
"But Buck says …"
"Mr Wilmington may say all sorts of things if the whim takes him to indulge in what passes for him as humour, but it does not necessarily follow that he condemns such a relationship in reality."
"What?" JD exclaimed, in shock. "A-Are you s-suggesting that Buck ... that Buck would …"
Seeing where the youth’s thoughts were heading, Ezra hurried to reassure him. "No, I cannot, in truth, imagine anyone less likely to indulge in such practices himself, but that does not mean he would not approve others’ rights to love as they choose rather than as society attempts to dictate."
"But he makes jokes about ‘funny cowboys’ and …"
Standish interrupted. "Not recently."
"Huh? What do you mean? Why ‘not recently’? What’s going on? I thought there was something. Why doesn’t anyone tell me anything? What’s going on?" he repeated, in considerable agitation.
"Nothing. Forget I spoke," Ezra said, wondering how he had got to such a pass, where he felt obliged to jump to Vin’s defence even when the tracker was not actually the subject of JD’s criticism. However, he knew it was unlikely that the sheriff would let the matter drop that easily. JD was like a dog with a bone when he got interested in a topic.
He was right. JD proceeded to complain and pester until finally the gambler gave in, with a sigh, and said, "Well I suppose you would have eventually stumbled upon the truth anyway. If you must know, I alluded, of course, to the relationship between Messrs Larabee and Tanner."
"Wh-What?" JD questioned, his mouth slack with shock. Whatever he had expected to hear it was certainly not that.
"Surely you must have observed how close they have become."
"B-But Chris has been married and he’s courting Mrs Travis and Vin is ... and Vin …" "And Vin is?"
JD bit his lip. "He’s been making up to Casey."
"Do you really believe that, Mr Dunne?"
"Yes! Well, he did stay at Mrs Well’s place and Casey seems to have been in town an awful lot lately and ... and …"
"And can you honestly say you have ever observed Mr Tanner making any sort of advances towards her?"
"No, not exactly," JD admitted.
"Not exactly or not at all?" Ezra asked.
"Well, I haven’t actually seen ... but it looks like ... Well, anyway I still reckon he has, though he denies it."
"Have you taxed him with it?"
"Yeah, I spoke to him."
JD then recalled the incident in the livery of a couple of weeks previously. He had observed Casey and Vin talking outside the livery, but had been too far away to eavesdrop. Then Casey had hurried off down the street and Vin had gone inside. JD had decided enough was enough and had hurried after the tracker to confront him.
Without any formalities, he had blurted, "I hope you’re proud of yourself, Vin. You really played me for a sucker."
"Huh?" the tracker questioned, dropping his saddle to the ground, and looking as though he was genuinely confused by JD’s hostile and accusatory tone. JD had found it hard to credit how well the man could dissemble. Ezra would have been hard point to feign a more convincing expression of surprise.
"All the time I’ve known you, I really believed you went to Mrs Well’s place to help her. I never suspected you were chasing after Casey."
"I wasn’t!" Vin had protested. "l’s not interested in her. Hell, JD, she’s just a kid."
JD had bristled at that, as in his angry and jealous state of mind, it seemed to imply that he was either a cradle-snatcher or a kid himself. "She’s no kid! She’s a young lady!" he retorted.
"Lady?" Vin had echoed, looking nonplussed. He had never noticed anything ladylike about Casey. Indeed, that was the reason he felt comfortable with her.
"Yes, lady! And she’s mine!" JD had added.
"No, she ain’t! You don’t own her!" Vin objected.
Unfortunately, JD had taken that as implying that Vin thought he did. In fact, it was not like that at all. Having suffered from Larabee’s possessive attitude, the tracker was concerned to hear JD voice such a sentiment. "Neither do you!" the sheriff snapped.
"And I don’t want to," Vin had insisted fervently.
"Why not?" JD demanded. In his anger, he had tossed reason aside, and so contradictorily took umbrage when Vin rejected Casey in such an apparently callous manner.
"Look, JD, I’m just not interested in wo- girls," he hastily amended, uncomfortably aware that he had almost put his foot in it properly.
"Well, if that’s the case, why are you making up to her?"
"I ain’t and I dunno why ya think I am."
"You’ve started shaving!"
"What?" The statement was so unexpected that Vin was certain that he must have misheard.
"You started shaving when you were staying at the Wells’ place and you’re still doing it."
"Yeah, well Casey made a bit of a fuss about …" Vin started.
JD interrupted, "So you admit you are doing it for her."
"No!" Vin had actually felt obliged to tidy himself up when Casey had objected to her aunt’s stipulation that she should dress for dinner when they had a guest present. Then, when Nettle had made it clear that she greatly approved of this, he had decided to please her by continuing to shave, at least while convalescing, in town.
However, JD gave him no chance to explain any of this. "And what about Casey?" he continued relentlessly.
"What about her?"
"She’s dressing differently." He had hardly believed his eyes that first day when he had seen her in a divided skirt rather than her usual trousers.
"Is she?" Vin’s surprise was genuine, but JD thought it was but more pretense. Knowing the tracker’s preternatural awareness of the slightest sign when tracking, he could not comprehend how oblivious Vin was to female fashion. Unlike Buck Wilmington, who unerring would spot, and accordingly compliment, the slightest changes in a dress, hairstyle or accessories, the tracker was so shy in the presence of women that he was always too preoccupied with trying to cope with any necessary communication to notice such details.
JD had had enough. The tracker would not admit his fault and could not be reasoned with, so it was time to get tough. Under normal circumstances, he would have hesitated to take Vin on, but he had his dander up properly. "Okay, Vin, I’ve had enough. I’ll give it to you straight. You go near Casey again and you’ll have me to answer to. Understand me?"
"Ya’ve got it all wrong, JD," Vin said quietly and he started to turn away. Unable to tell JD where his real interest lay, and thus unlikely to be able to pacify him, he figured it was best to simply walk away. He could see the sheriff was ripe for a scrap and he did not want that. Apart from the fact that he might inadvertently hurt JD, he did not want to draw the attention of others to what was going on, as that could only damage Casey’s reputation and thus also hurt Nettle.
"Don’t ya walk away from me, Tanner," JD snapped. As he spoke, he reached out and grabbed Vin, spun him round and aimed a blow at his face.
Realising his intent, Vin twisted awkwardly to avoid this and tripped over his discarded saddle. He fell hard, jolting his still healing shoulder. Ignoring the pain, he rolled onto his back and waited resignedly for JD’s next move, willing himself not to touch his boot knife or his mare’s leg.
However, what that move might have been, neither was ever to know, because at that moment Buck Wilmington walked into the livery.
His eyes widened as he took in the scene. Then, as usual, he moved to diffuse the situation in his own inimitable manner. "Well, so this is what the pair of ya get up to when ol’ Uncle Buck isn’t around to keep an eye on ya," he drawled. "I thought ya young ’uns knew better. I’ll tan both yer hides for ya if ya don’t play nice."
"It isn’t a laughing matter, Buck. Anyway it’s all Vin’s fault!" JD accused, turning on his heel and stalking out.
However, he found he could not maintain that air of righteous indignation, which was so at odds with his naturally open and friendly nature for long. As he had calmed down, he had started to feel guilty and to wonder if there was any possible chance that he had misjudged the tracker. The trouble was if Tanner was innocent, the implication was that Casey was not and he could not accept that.
Things were not helped by the fact that Buck sought him out to inform him that Vin’s shoulder wound had fortunately stayed closed and that the tracker had urged him not to be mad with JD as the sheriff was trying to protect Casey. As he now admitted to Ezra, Vin’s concern for him had simply confused him further.
"That does not surprise me," Ezra opined. "Mr Tanner’s invariable concern for others and his willingness to place their interests before his own, have been a constant revelation to me as well. However, Mr Dunne, I must ask you to accept two facts that you may find unpalatable. Firstly, that Mr Tanner and Mr Larabee have formed a relationship and secondly that Miss Wells was trying to attract Mr Tanner’s interest, not vice versa. Of course, you may prefer to verify these facts from another of our little group, but I would humbly request that you do so circumspectly to avoid the unwelcome eyes of the community in general falling upon our two colleagues or upon Miss Wells."
"Damn! Buck knew, didn’t he? I thought he’d been acting a bit cagey. Why the hell didn’t he tell me?" JD demanded.
"I believe Mr Wilmington was probably acting as he thought best. As you will understand, such a relationship as Messrs Larabee and Tanner have is not approved of by the law, so the fewer who are cognizant of it the safer for them. Further, I believe, he may well have feared as to how you would accept the news."+ + + + + + +
"… So that’s how I came to know," JD concluded.
"Well, Ezra was right when he told ya what my motives were. I ain’t sayin’ I was right to think like that, but I hope ya can see I was tryin’ to do my best to protect everyone," Buck said.
"Yeah, I guess so. I can see it was hard to know what to do. I know I felt really bad when I learnt the truth. I knew I ought to apologize to Vin, but I didn’t know what to say. When Ezra and I met him on the way home from Eagle Bend, he looked a bit uneasy and seemed surprised when I greeted him. I guess he’d expected me to abuse him again and I can’t blame him for that. However, I tried to be real friendly. I was kind of hoping to find a way of working my apology into the conversation, but Vin didn’t give me an opening. He seemed pleased that I was being friendly, but he was pretty quiet as usual. Anyway I’d just decided I would have to stop pussyfooting around and just say I was sorry and I’d been wrong, when those outlaws started shooting and that was it. Vin gave himself up for me even though I hadn’t apologized or anything ... and now I might never get a chance," he added ruefully.
"Yes, ya will, JD," Buck insisted reassuringly. "He’ll be all right. We’ll find him." He just hoped he was right. He had to be. Without the man who was their soul, the Seven would be no more. All would be hurt, but Larabee would be absolutely devastated ... and so, he feared, would Standish. It just did not bear thinking about.+ + + + + + +
Having eaten, MacFarlane turned his attention to the tracker. Right, boy, time for the little lesson in manners that promised you," he announced, starting to unbuckle his belt. "Get your coat and shirt off, kid," he ordered.
Sam cut his wrists free and stood back waiting for Vin to disrobe. However, the tracker simply flexed his wrists and stood glaring defiantly at him. "Hurry up!" the man snapped.
The tracker just stood his ground.
"Get his coat off him," MacFarlane said.
Sam advanced and reached for Vin, who immediately let fly with a hard punch to the jaw that nearly floored the man.
"Big mistake, Dunne," MacFarlane snarled. "Hold him for me, boys."
Vin backed up as the three closed in, but he was soon hard against the wall. He raised a leg up and put his foot against the wall and then suddenly propelled himself forward, heading for the door.
However, in the confined space of the cabin, he was unable to break through his four opponents. In moments, he was wrestled to the floor. Dave and am each pinned an arm, while Morgan, a large and lumbering man sat astride his hips.
MacFarlane squatted down and deftly undid his coat and shirt, before backhanding him viciously several times across the face. Then Dave and Sam pulled him into a sitting position. Only semi-conscious, Vin was hardly aware of his upper garments being stripped from him.
"Hey, look at that, guys," Morgan said, grinning and pointing at the bloody wound on Vin’s side, "one of us has damaged pretty boy." He put out a large hand and forced Vin to turn slightly. "Yer in luck, kid, looks like it’s gone straight through," he announced. "I’ll bet it’s sore though." As he spoke, he closed one large hand over the wound and squeezed.
Vin yelped and swore as red-hot pain lanced through him.
"Stop mucking about and get his hands tied," MacFarlane instructed.
This time Vin’s wrists were secured in front of him and then a further length of rope was tied to them.
Then the men dragged him to his feet and flicked the rope up and over one of the exposed beams. His arms were pulled high above his tousled head, as the rope was secured. Vin squeezed his eyes shut against the biting pain in his side.
MacFarlane moved behind him and raised the belt. However, instead of hitting the tracker, he laughed and exclaimed, "Look at this, boys!"
"What is it?" Seth asked.
Kev pointed at Vin’s shoulder. "Someone’s been putting his brand on young Dunne. I wonder who wanted to be sure he didn’t stray."
"And I’ll tell ya what, boss," Dave Brown commented grinning, "that mark sure don’t look like a ‘W’. Perhaps the kid ain’t as close to Wilmington as we thought."
"Never mind, he’s close enough. Wilmington’ll be sorry he ever went after my brother. From all accounts, it’ll go hard enough on him when he finds the kid’s corpse, but knowing that we gave the boy a hard time before we shot him will just add a nice touch to his regrets."
"But I thought ya were plannin’ to trade him in return for Wilmington changin’ his testimony," Morgan said.
"Well that’s what I want Wilmington to think, but I can’t see any point in handing him over once that’s been done. No, once we’ve got Johnny, it’s a bullet for the kid and then we’re out of here."
"That sounds more like you, boss," Morgan commented. "I have to admit I was getting’ a bit worried that ya were goin’ soft in yer old age."
"Soft? Soft? I’ll show you all just how soft I’ve got," MacFarlane replied, as he swung the belt back before bringing it forward as hard as he could.
Caught off guard by the sudden move Vin bit his lip to stifle a cry of pain and then braced himself for what was to come. He was determined that he would endure whatever they did to him in silence. He knew that would anger MacFarlane.
Finally, they tired of the game. An apparently unconscious victim was no fun. "Cut him down, Seth," MacFarlane ordered. The boy had been unexpectedly and disappointingly stoical. He could not help but feel a grudging respect for the kid’s guts. Perhaps it was not going to be quite so easy to shoot him, but he would do it. Wilmington had to suffer and it was just the boy’s hard luck to be a suitable tool for his revenge.
The man moved to obey, slicing through the rope above Tanner’s wrists, so that they remained tied before him as he slumped bonelessly to the ground, biting his lip to prevent any sound that might have revealed that he was awake.
He lay in a crumpled heap, trying to gather his resources. He just wished he was not feeling so damned sick. The loss of blood, from the untreated bullet wound, had seriously weakened him, his back was aching fiercely and his eyes were already so swollen from MacFarlane’s punches that his vision was blurred. He knew he could not afford to wait too long for any escape attempt or he would not have the strength to succeed. Even now he had his doubts about how he could manage it.
However, he also knew that the timing had to be just right, as he knew that if he failed MacFarlane would ensure he did not get another opportunity, so he was forced to bide his time. Accordingly, he lay quietly, feigning unconsciousness, while surreptitiously watching the outlaws drinking. He was pleased to see it. If they were a bit befuddled by alcohol, it might just give him the edge he needed.
Finally, he decided it was time. He shifted awkwardly and groaned, pretending to be just coming around, so as to catch MacFarlane’s attention. "I-I need to ... to take a piss," he muttered.
"Take him outside, Morgan," MacFarlane ordered. "Leave his hands tied. He’ll manage somehow."
The big man moved forward, grasped Vin by the scruff of the neck and hauled him roughly to his feet. Vin swayed and nearly fell, but Morgan propelled him towards the door and then out into the pitch-black night.
The breeze was chilly on Vin’s bare skin and he shivered, but at least the cold made his head feel slightly clearer.
He stumbled away from the shack towards the nearby trees.
"That’s far enough, boy," Morgan said, but the prisoner hobbled on, apparently oblivious to the instruction.
"Didn’t ya hear me, Dunne?" Morgan snapped. "That’s far enough." As he spoke, he gave Vin a vicious shove and the tracker fell to his knees.
"Get up, boy!" the big man ordered, moving to stand in front of him. "We ain’t got all night. Get up now or ya’ll have my boot in yer ribs."
However, ‘Dunne’ seemed unable to obey. "l’s tryin’," he gasped, actually sagging lower.
Exasperated, the big man bent down and reached for him, digging his fingers into the tracker’s shoulders. Vin immediately relaxed his body, so that the man was forced to take his full weight. Swearing and threatening, Morgan yanked hard. Simultaneously, Vin launched himself upwards, his bound hands clutching his boot knife.
Morgan never really knew what hit him. With a momentum born of desperation and aided by the larger man’s strength, Vin took him through the throat with a vicious thrust. Morgan made a horrible gurgling sound and toppled forward as if poleaxed.
Vin twisted desperately to avoid the falling man, wrenching his side and nearly going down as well. Then he stood, wobbling like a newborn colt. Adrenalin rush over, Vin’s legs felt like rubber and he feared they were about to betray him. He had to keep upright, at least until he was at a safe distance from the shack. Much as he hated to leave Peso, he could not afford to try for the horse, which was tethered by the shack’s door.
Willing his battered body to obey him, he staggered off into the trees, only to freeze scant moments later, as he heard the cabin door open. Clutching against a sapling for support, he glanced back to see a man silhouetted in the doorway. "Hey, Morgan, what’s takin’ ya so long? Was it too much temptation fer ya seein’ the kid with his pants open?" he questioned, laughing raucously at his own weak joke.
Aware that the man would not be able to see him as yet, but would soon be coming to check out the lack of response from Morgan, Vin began to move away as fast as he could.
Behind him, he could hear the shouts of anger as MacFarlane and his men discovered Morgan’s body and realized that their prisoner had absconded.
The moonless night was both a help and a hindrance. His pale, naked torso was less likely to be seen, but with his limited vision from his blackened and swollen eyes, going was difficult. Turning in the direction of Four Corners purely on instinct, he trudged onwards.
If he had been in better shape, he would have tried to turn the tables directly on the outlaws, but in his condition, all he could think of was getting back to the town so that that the trial could proceed. After that the boys could see to Kevin MacFarlane and his gang.
Cold and dizzy, Vin kept doggedly on until he could no longer hear his pursuers. Then he sat down, jammed his knife into a tree trunk, and began to saw frantically at the ropes encircling his aching wrists.
Finally, the strands parted, leaving him with the remains dangling from his left wrist. However, he did not have time to cut again. Shoving the knife back into its boot pouch, he scrambled to his feet.
He had gone only about half a mile further when disaster struck. Catching his foot in an unseen hole, Vin fell heavily jarring his injured side and his right knee smashed down onto a small rock. Swearing at the pain, he lay where he fell for some minutes, trying to muster the strength to rise. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to his feet and shuffled onwards. He could already feel the knee swelling and stiffening.
Soon he could no longer bend it. His body was screaming at him to stop. He felt totally exhausted, there was a swimming mist before his eyes and he was racked with pain from his various injuries.
‘Tanners ain’t quitters,’ he told himself, but it was getting harder and harder to remain upright. He was not going to make it. He would never see Chris again
Never see Chris! No! That could not be. He could not bear the thought.
Maybe it was just as well that Chris no longer loved him because the gunslinger had enough bad memories already.
But was it true? Sure Chris had been avoiding him, but what if Larabee still had some feelings for him. After all, the gunslinger had sought a reconciliation, when he returned from shooting Grant Masters, and he had been the one to put the restrictions on their relationship, not Larabee. Perhaps … possibly … maybe he was trying to respect Vin’s spoken wishes by his behaviour.
Oh, God, what if the gunslinger still loved him? If that was the case, what would Vin’s death do to him? Larabee would be devastated.
Vin made up his mind. Somehow he had to live long enough to tell Chris that he had forgiven him and loved him. He had to make things right, he just had to. Breaking off a branch of a tree to lean on, he gritted his teeth and staggered onwards.+ + + + + + +
Following Chris’ hunch about a likely area for the outlaws to be holed-up, he and the other five approached the old prospector’s place. It was about 9am and they had been searching since sunrise. The shack looked deserted. Larabee cursed. Surely his connection with Vin was not going to let him down at such a time.
However, as they neared the building, the body of the man Vin had stabbed came into view. "That’s one of the miscreants," Ezra observed, with a note of satisfaction in his voice. "I distinctly recall him because he had such a woeful lack of taste in his attire. I believe we can be confident that his demise is some of Mr Tanner’s handiwork."
Buck swung down and cautiously approached the cabin, revolver in hand. Then he kicked open the door, bracing himself for a possible bullet. Getting no response, he headed in, returning moments later clutching Vin’s belongings. "He’s been here," he announced unnecessarily, passing the clothing and gun belt to Larabee.
Larabee took the things and sat staring at them, his heart contracting painfully as he saw the blood stained shirt and neckerchief.+ + + + + + +
Meanwhile the outlaws were searching for their erstwhile captive. MacFarlane was desperate to recapture Dunne. Until he had his brother safe, he needed Dunne as a bargaining pawn and anyway he was not about to be outsmarted by a kid.
Now that it was light, they expected to pick up Dunne’s trail easily and MacFarlane was looking forward to teaching the escapee a particularly painful lesson. Not that he would have long to benefit from it, for as soon as Johnny was free, the kid would be history.+ + + + + + +
Lying flat on his stomach on the hard ground, where he had fallen, Vin heard the sound of a horse’s hooves. He knew he should head for what little cover was offering, but try as he could he was unable to rise. He lay still, hoping by some miracle that the rider would not see him, but the hope proved a vain one. He heard the horse stop and then MacFarlane’s sneering tones, "You thought you’d outsmarted me, didn’t you, Dunne?"
Vin kept his head down, feigning unconsciousness. All that earned him was a boot deliberately planted to hit the seeping wound in his side and he could not suppress a gasp of pain.
The slight noise made MacFarlane smile. "Ah, that’s better, kid. I don’t take kindly to being ignored. You’ve caused me a lot of hassle and I’ll see you regret it. I’ll have you screaming your pretty head off by the time I’m finished with you. Now get up."
"Go to hell," Vin rasped. There was no way he could have stood up even if he had had a mind to obey, which he had not.
"Well, kid, I’ll give you a choice: get up and walk or be dragged." As he spoke, he uncoiled the lariat hanging from his saddle and deftly fashioned it into a noose. Then he dropped it over the tracker’s head. Keeping it taut, he walked to his horse and tied the other end to his saddle.
Vin clawed desperately at the rope to try to remove it, but MacFarlane would allow him no slack. The outlaw gave the rope a vicious jerk. It cut into Vin’s neck as he tried frantically to free himself.
"Last chance, boy," MacFarlane said, "get up!"
"I-I cain’t," Vin rasped. "M-My leg’s hurt." He was scared. Few things frightened Vin Tanner, but this was too close to the hanging death that he had long dreaded. Somehow he managed to raise himself on his good knee, the other leg outstretched.
MacFarlane cursed. He could see that Vin was not bluffing. He still needed Vin alive as a bargaining counter, so he could not actually carry out his threat to drag him… not yet anyway. He was going to have to put the young bastard over his horse and he doubted that Vin would be co-operative. Where the hell were the others? He could do with a hand.
Taking out his revolver, he fired three times in the signal they had agreed upon before splitting up to search. Then he moved to untie his lasso from the saddle, so as to use it to bind his victim’s hands. He figured he might as well have Dunne trussed up ready for when the others arrived.
He kept the pressure on the whole time aware that the noose was hurting Vin and pleased that for the first time the kid actually appeared to be afraid. He was trying his best to hide it, but the fear showed in his eyes.
"Right, get down on your stomach and put your hands behind you," he ordered. "Go on, or I’ll lay you out," he threatened, brandishing his rifle, as Vin hesitated.
It went against the grain to obey, but Vin knew that he had to do so. If he was going to escape the man, he could not afford further injury. As Vin awkwardly complied with the instruction, MacFarlane started to squat down beside him, but at that moment a rifle cracked and then another.
Sensing MacFarlane’s momentary distraction, Vin seized his chance. Pushing off with an arm and his good leg, he rolled into MacFarlane, catching him off balance and toppling him over. Then somehow he flung himself upon the outlaw.
A short, vicious tussle followed. MacFarlane had a three stone advantage over the slender tracker and Vin’s various injuries, to say nothing of the rope around his neck, hampered him, but he was desperate and fought with everything he had, punching and biting.
The tracker was weakening fast and he knew that if he did not end the fight quickly, there could be only one outcome and it was not one that he was prepared to contemplate. He was going to take the bastard out if it was the last thing he did.
Without warning he suddenly cried out and went limp. Surprised MacFarlane loosened his hold, thinking that Vin had fainted from blood loss. He reached for the rope again, with the intention of tying his victim, when he heard more shots, shouting men and running horses. He turned to see what was happening.
That was when Vin made his move. Silently thanking God that the boot pouch was in the boot of his good leg, because otherwise he could not have reached it, he bent the leg slowly up and reached for the knife, easing it out.
Still looking towards the direction from which the noise was coming, MacFarlane drew his revolver in readiness. He rightly feared that Wilmington and his friends had found his men and was not about to have them find him as well. His first impulse was to gut-shoot the young bastard, who had brought them to this pass, and ride hell for leather away, but that would be to doom his brother. No, somehow he had to take the kid with him.
He started to reach for his supposedly unconscious victim, only to give a bellow of pain and anger as Vin thrust his knife home. MacFarlane jerked to his feet, clutching at the knife embedded deep in his stomach, desperate to remove it. However, his success merely hastened his end, as the blood then gushed forth, and he collapsed landing heavily on top of the helpless tracker.
Vin no longer needed to feign unconsciousness. He was out to it.
A few minutes later his eyes fluttered open. He was not sure what had happened, but something was tight around his neck strangling him and he could not breath properly. His right arm was pinned under whatever was on top of him, but his questing left hand found the rope. He tried to ease it, but could not do so as he was lying on the rope and could get no slack.
He tried to heave MacFarlane’s body off him, but it was too heavy and the effort caused him to raise his head, the constricting rope biting into him. He fell back and the world went black once more.
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