Autumn Dawn

by Sue Kelley

Sequel to Autumn Rain. There will be two more in the series (after this one)

Chris opened his eyes as the silver light of dawn eased into the shack.

In a rush it all came back to him, the horror of the day before, and he reacted by tightening his arms around his lover. Buck mumbled in his sleep and moved even closer to Chris, nuzzling at his neck.

Chris smiled, his panic easing. He leaned over and ghosted his lips across Buck's forehead. The satin skin was warm, too warm, but not dangerously hot. Nathan had predicted Buck would develop a slight fever during the night. Chris touched the bandage around Buck's shoulder, the other one across his back. The cloth felt clean and dry. He smiled, bringing his arm around and pulling Buck even closer, so that they were together, chest to foot, skin touching everywhere. He buried his face in Buck's neck, smelling and tasting the salt of his skin, the musky odor of blood and pain and sweat. They hadn't started the wound bleeding again last night. He'd meant to be careful, but once they got out here, Buck hot and willing and wanting him, his own stomach still churning, his head pounding with the memory of Buck falling into his arms, blood spilling down his back, all thoughts of caution and care had flown out the window. He had needed Buck--needed to pound into him, fill Buck with his seed, claiming him and being claimed in return. He was desperate to join with his mate.

Not that much different from usual, at that.

He smiled. 'Damn, Bucklin, what you do to me. All these years and whenever we're together like this I'm a randy stallion. And you--you're everything. Everything I have left. And everything I want.'

He sighed, breath warm against Buck's skin. Too early to wake up Buck, even if his lower region was waking, responding to the closeness of his lover. Buck had lost a lot of blood. He needed to sleep. Little Chris could just wait a while. In the meantime, Chris closed his eyes and reached for sleep.

Hopeless. His mind was awake now, the memories of the day before playing out in vivid detail.

Getting the telegram about the prison break. Looking up, his eyes meeting Buck's dark blue ones as the both remembered Dal and Mark Robbins--remembered the swath of death and destruction the two desperados had left across Texas. Nine years ago. The last year they'd ridden with the Rangers....

Saddling up, all seven of them. Riding hard. They hadn't needed Vin to track, Chris and Buck had known full well where the Robbins boys would go.

Intercepting them at the Badlands. A showdown, brief and bloody and violent. Ezra taking a ricochet to the head and falling back and down the jagged incline. JD's fear-filled voice shouting "Ezra's down!" Nodding at Vin, at Nathan, to go look for the gambler while the rest of them doubled their firepower, giving them some coverage...

Everything ran together then, a juxtaposition of jagged images in the harsh sunlight. Mark Robbins dropping, dead, eyes wide open and staring at nothing. Dal somehow getting the drop on Buck, coming up behind Buck, the sun reflecting off the blade he clutched, bringing it down, plunging it into Buck.

The world had gone dark, cold rolled through Chris. He reached out, his fingers touching something, something hard and metal and hot, and he'd grabbed up Vin's sawed-off shotgun and blasted both barrels into Dal Robbins chest. The desperado was dead before he hit the ground.

Starting toward Buck, dizzy with relief that he was standing, alive--

JD's voice calling, "Where's Vin?"

Panic churned his gut. He turned to see Nathan and JD helping a wobbly Ezra to sit down in the semi shade of a rock outcrop. Buck, Josiah, JD, Nathan, Ezra...all were accounted for but where was Vin?

Vin wasn't dead. He knew that, knew that somehow he'd feel it if the quiet man were gone. JD and Josiah didn't know that, though, their loud shouts rang through the dusty air.

They'd found Vin, sprained ankle and all, ten feet down and hidden by brush, mad as a hell that he'd been yelling and no one could hear him. Once they'd got him out of the hole he shoved them away and hobbled toward his horse, grumbling loudly about "A bunch of old women yelling so loud you can't hear the thunder a' fore it hits ya!"

Nathan patted Ezra's shoulder--the con man still looked like he was seeing two of all of them--and started toward Vin. "Get over here and let me see the damage--"

"Like hell!" Vin returned.

"Vin," Chris said. "Let him take a look."

"No!" the Texan fired back.

"Yes!" Chris snapped. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, that the rest of them were trying to hide grins and doing a pretty bad job of it. Well, not Nathan--he had that worried look he always got when one of them needed doctoring. JD, however, looked like it was the funniest thing he'd seen all year. And then--

JD's face drained of all color. His eyes widened, staring at something beyond Chris. But there was nothing back there, nothing but...

"Buck?" JD whispered. "BUCK!" he yelled, starting forward.

Chris froze. His brain sent out panicked signals to his limbs. Turn, go, find Buck--but he couldn't respond.

Not until he saw Nathan starting forward, worried concern creasing the man's forehead.

Somehow he got to Buck first, not even remembering moving. He caught Buck by the shoulders, his hand coming away wet and sticky with blood, then eased him to the ground

He could feel his own blood drain away, leaving him lightheaded. 'Buck...'

Then the others were there, and Nathan was barking out orders, but not in the terse, "Do it now!" tone that meant it was a life or death thing. More like the "What the hell did you get yourself into this time?" tone. And Vin was whistling, looking at the long, jagged, but fortunately not very deep, slice through Buck's shoulder and down almost to his ribs.

Relief soared through his heart. Relief quickly followed by anger, anger that Buck had risked himself and not said anything about being hurt in all the worry about Vin. The anger that came so easily when it came to Buck, arising out of love and worry and just plain frustration that the man didn't seem to realize how much he meant to people. People, hell, how could he leave Chris to worry about him like that? "What the hell where you thinking?" he snapped, even as he eased behind Buck and cradled his head and shoulders in his own arms. Buck's eyes met his, fuzzy with pain, and resignation, and--what? Something that Chris couldn't identify and didn't like at all. "Buck?" he asked, worried.

But Buck's eyes closed as he slipped into unconsciousness.

"Buck!"

"It's okay, Chris," Nathan soothed. "Best thing for him, really. He lost some blood and cleanin' this is going to be painful.

Chris stared at him, then felt a light touch on his arm and turned to look into Vin's eyes. Understanding eyes, realizing the fear that wracked Chris. "He's going to be okay, Cowboy."

Chris nodded, then felt the tension spill out of him. He grasped Buck tighter about the shoulders. "What am I going to do with you?" he breathed, resting his cheek against Buck's damp hair....

And now here they were, alone, safe in Chris' shack, together in the bed that was too short for Buck but never seemed to bother him because they were in it together.

Together...the way they should be. The way it was.

They'd been together so long...from that first night, just two scared kids surrounded by blood and battle and death. A war that turned brother against brother, friend against friend, lover against lover.

A war that gave him all three, in one man.

After that it was always the two of them. They fought and lived and loved through the war together, then took off on their own. Buck didn't have a home and Chris didn't care much to go back to his, so "home" became each other. Gun fights and range wars and a long stint with the Texas Rangers; drinking and fighting and loving and nursing each other through wounds and illness. Just living it up. Buck had his ladies and Chris had his whores, but they always had each other. Two men with no roots, no commitments, save the one they'd made to each other.

And then, one day, about six months after they'd left the Rangers, in another town that was just a stop on the trail, Buck had tugged his arm and said, "I just found the filly for you, Chris."

Chris had turned, expecting to see--he didn't know what he'd expected to see. But he'd seen Sarah, and the moment their eyes met, he was hers and she was his.

Sarah had known about him and Buck. They hadn't had to tell her, she just knew and accepted it and welcomed Buck into the family. Buck ran interference for them with Sarah's irate father, and when Sarah and Chris had stood before the minister to say their vows, Buck had been the only witness.

The next few years passed by in a contented blur. Sarah. Their son, Adam. The ranch. Working hard with Buck, and Sarah, to make something worth having. That last month, admiring in wonder Sarah's belly thickening with new life, a new child and a string of horses that would make the name of the Crooked L ranch stand out.

That last day...

Buck stirred in Chris' arms, making a noise deep in his throat. Chris pulled him closer, soothing him with a wordless hum.

The thought of that day, the day they'd returned to the ranch to find their lives in ashes, chilled Chris. Quietly, he reached down for the blanket and pulled it over both of them.

It didn't erase that long dark tunnel he'd raced into, dragging Buck with him even as he tried to push him away. Fighting and hating and still turning to Buck when he needed him. Always trusting no matter how hard he pushed Buck would still be there.

Until the day he'd woke up in jail, pounding headache from a too-long bender, Buck's blood on his clothes and Buck gone from his life.

It'd been five months--three wrestling with himself and his demons, two more tracking Buck--before he'd traced him to a little crumbling town called Four Corners. Finding Buck's horse safe in the stables, knowing Buck was most probably in the arms of a lady, Chris grinned and headed off to the saloon, knowing sooner or later he'd find Buck there.

He found trouble first.

But the trouble had brought him so much. A town, a home, a family. Rather unconventional family, a family he might never verbally acknowledge as such, but a family just the same.

A friend that it seemed he'd spent his whole life looking for.

And, best of all, Buck, back in his life, in his heart, in his arms and in his bed.

Life just couldn't get much better.

Oh, there was still darkness in his soul, probably always would be, at least 'til he found Sarah's killer or killers and had his revenge. And probably there would always be that dark spot, but the light pushed it back.

And those times when the darkness neared, encroaching, threatening their family, Buck was there, always there, to take it into his body. To hold Chris with strong arms, keeping Chris safe, pushing the darkness away.

+ + + + + + +

Buck shifted again, murmuring restlessly. He was close to waking. And when he did, Chris would be right there, to join with him, to take him gently, lovingly, worshipping Buck's body with his hands and tongue.

The way he'd meant to do it last night, before the fire and the passion and the fear had overcome them both and they'd come together violently, violently as the storm lashing the fragile shutters. Not the best thing for Buck's wound, probably, but what he'd needed. What they both needed.

But the darkness was pushed back, the storm was over, and bright morning was coming.

Chris smiled and cuddled his lover, closing his eyes to savor the moment.

The silvery light brightened in the golden approach of an autumn dawn.

End

To be continued in Autumn Morning

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