WARNING: Graphic description of male-male sex.
The attack at the bank broke out like one of the late summer thunderstorms that had been roiling up every afternoon for the past several days – sudden and violent. The resulting gunfire destroyed the otherwise still, hot summer noontime, pulling some people out from the cooler shadows of their businesses and homes to watch the drama play itself out on the dusty main street in Four Corners.
Chris Larabee, like three of the other regulators charged with keeping the peace in town, was sitting in the saloon when the ring of the first shot pierced the silence of the poker game he was playing with Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah. His head immediately snapped up and he tossed aside his cards as he stood, reaching automatically for his gun.
The gambler muttered hotly under his breath, but he and the others followed Larabee, each of the three men drawing their own guns as they gathered at the bat-wing doors to get a better look at the unfolding situation.
Across the street, three men bolted from the First National Bank, guns drawn and bandannas pulled up to cover most of their faces.
"Not again," Larabee half-groaned. Four Corners had endured several attempted bank robberies since he and the others had taken over their peacekeeping duties, but the event had become almost commonplace over the past few months.
"One would think this insufferable heat would keep such malefactors ensconced indoors," Ezra complained, clearly unhappy with the prospect of participating in yet another shootout on the hot, dusty street.
The three outlaws quickly mounted their waiting horses, firing shots at various residents who were either brave enough or stupid enough to show themselves.
"Hurry up!" one of the robbers hollered at the open bank door.
Movement caught Larabee's attention and he spotted Buck crouching behind a stack of barrels in front of Potter's store.
Wilmington flashed the gunslinger a jaunty grin as he touched his finger to the brim of his hat.
Chris shook his head and forced his frown into a wry grin; Buck had a cocky streak, and it sometimes got the man into trouble.
A moment later, four more men rushed out of the bank, one of them carrying a travel case that looked like it was stuffed full of cash. A single shot, louder than the others, rang out and the man holding the bag fell before he reached his horse.
This time Chris did grin. Vin had found an vantage point from which he could drop the outlaw absconding with the money.
Larabee watched as Mr. Gibbins, the new banker, scurried out and snatched up the travel case, then dove back into the bank as several shots from the outlaws followed him inside.
"Come on," Chris said, darting from the saloon, firing on the six desperados as he rushed for cover. Behind him, he heard the others doing the same.
Two of the outlaws who were already mounted broke away, kicking wildly at their horses' flanks. Another shot from above, and one from JD, who stood outside the sheriff's office, unseated both fleeing men and left them lying in the dusty street.
The remaining four robbers exchanged gunfire with the peacekeepers, but neither group had a clear advantage, even with Vin up on the roof of the hotel. But the tracker was able to keep the outlaws pinned down well enough that the others could carefully work their way closer and shift the fight to their favor.
So, after a few chaotic minutes, only two of the robbers remained a threat. Both of them sprinted for their horses, swinging up as they fired wildly, one in Vin's direction – to keep his head down and his gun silent – the other in Buck's direction as Wilmington dashed across an open space to work his way around behind them.
Chris saw the robber draw a bead on Buck and quickly stepped into the open, firing at the outlaw and drawing his attention away from Wilmington before his long-time friend was killed.
One of Larabee's bullets caught the outlaw high in the chest and he jerked back from the impact, his hand yanking his horse's reins up and back violently. The coffee-brown gelding's head snapped up and around, the horse squealing. The gelding reared and lost its balance, stumbling and falling sideways into one of the support posts holding up the overhang shading the boardwalk.
"Chris!" the gunslinger heard Tanner shout as the wooden structure crashed down on him before he had a chance to react. His last thought was to marvel at the honest fear he'd heard in the tracker's voice.
"Chris!" Buck yelled as well, horrified as he saw the wooden structure come crashing down. He fired at the rider, who was still trying to get his horse back under control, killing him.
"Ya ain't seen the last of the Palmer Gang!" the remaining man hollered as he raced past Buck and JD on his way to freedom.
As the hoofbeats faded, the rest of the peacekeepers emerged from cover, dusty and dripping sweat.
"Chris!" Buck called again, bolting to the pile of wood planks and tossing the ones on the top aside in a desperate bid to uncover his friend. A moment later Josiah and Ezra were both helping him, and then Vin and JD joined in as well.
Nathan kept an eye on their progress as he sprinted from man to man, checking each of the six outlaws. All but one was already dead and, watching blood bubble across the last man's lips, the healer knew there was nothing he could do to help him either.
"Nathan!" Vin barked anxiously.
Jackson looked up, nodding when the tracker waved for him to come over. He looked back down at the dying man, saying, "Best make yo'r peace with God, Mister. You're gonna see Him real soon now."
The man moaned, closing his eyes, and Nathan hastened to join the others.
"Is he hurt?" JD asked, trying to squeeze past Josiah and Buck for a better look at Larabee.
"Careful, son," Josiah said, grabbing the younger man's coat at the shoulders and pulling him back out of the way, "looks like he's bleedin' pretty bad."
"Bleedin'? Let me see," Nathan said, tugging Buck out of his way.
Wilmington immediately started to move back, but Vin grabbed his arm, saying, "Let Nathan do his work."
Buck shot the smaller man an angry glare, but he stayed out of the way. A moment later, after he'd caught the fear and worry in the tracker's blue eyes, he softly muttered, "Sorry, pard."
Vin nodded to let Buck know he accepted the apology, but his gaze remained locked on Nathan while he worked.
"What is Mr. Larabee's condition?" Ezra asked after Nathan had been kneeling over the fallen gunslinger for several long moments.
"Looks like he got hit pretty hard on the head," the healer told them as he finished his initial check for any broken bones, or other obvious injuries – like a bullet hole. Having found nothing except a lump on the gunslinger's head, Nathan carefully turned Larabee over onto his back.
Half of Chris's face was covered with blood.
"Damn, Nathan, he looks dead!" JD yelped.
"Scalp wounds do tend t' bleed a lot," Nathan said distractedly as he finished his examination. "Help me get him up t' the clinic. We'll get him cleaned up there and make sure ain't nothing else wrong with him."
Being the two closest, Buck and Vin picked Chris up at ankles and armpits, carrying him to the second story rooms that doubled as Nathan's home and the town's medical clinic.
"Put him in that chair there," the healer directed the two men, pointing to the one he meant.
Buck and Vin carefully sat the unconscious gunslinger in the indicated seat and held him there – no easy feat, since the gunman's slack body wanted to slide right out. Chris's head hung limply, his chin almost resting on his chest.
The other three peacekeepers stood off a little ways in order to give Nathan room to work.
"Buck, you make sure Chris stays right there. Vin, I need you to hold his head up so I can clean that wound and sew it closed.
The two men quickly repositioned themselves to carry out the tasks they had been given. Tanner carefully cradled Chris's head in his hands, his expression one of pure worry when Larabee didn't even seem to notice what was happening to him.
"JD, get me some mo' fresh water and start some heating on the stove," the healer instructed as he gathered together the various items he needed.
The youngest member of the group immediately hurried off to do as he'd been asked.
"Josiah, hand me some of them cloths," Nathan said, pointing to a folded stack sitting on a shelf above a small table in a corner.
"Whatever you need, brother," the preacher replied, walking over and grabbing several, which he handed over to Nathan.
JD hurried back in with a full bucket of water and went to put some in a pot and place it on the stove.
Nathan poured some of the water into a bowl and washed his hands. When he was done, he poured more of the warm water into a second bowl, then dipped one of the rags in it, wrung it out, and began carefully wiping the blood off Chris's face. "Ezra," he called.
The gambler stepped up to receive his assignment.
"Grab another cloth and press it hard against this wound."
Going slightly pale, the well-dressed man did as he had been asked, but he carefully avoided looking at the ugly seeping injury as he did.
Nathan went back to work, cleaning the rest of the blood off Chris's face and neck with careful, gentle strokes.
"This material is, uh, becoming rather sodden, I'm afraid," Ezra said a few minutes later.
"Here," Josiah said, holding out another clean cloth.
The gambler took it and quickly exchanged it for the first, which he gingerly handed back to the big preacher.
With the continuing help of the others, Nathan was able to clean, then stitch Chris's scalp wound closed. But before he did, he carefully checked the injury, looking and feeling for any signs of a fracture. Thankfully, he found none.
Once a poultice had been added over the wound, and Chris's head was wrapped with a fresh bandage, Buck and Josiah moved him to the bed, where Nathan had them strip Chris down to his long johns, then covered the gunslinger with a light blanket before turning to face the five worried men.
"That's all I can do," the healer told them. "Didn't find a fracture, so he should wake up soon, but when he does, he's gonna feel like his head's been cleaved like cordwood."
"But he'll be fine, right?" Buck asked Jackson, his expression still worried and intense.
Nathan nodded. "Don't see why not. No fracture, just a good-sized bump on his head." Course head wounds can be tricky… The healer watched all five men visibly relax and offered them a small, reassuring smile, hoping he had told them the truth. "Guess y'all better get that mess down there on the street cleaned up."
Monday, 7 p.m.
It was late evening before Buck returned to the clinic. Glancing over to where Chris still lay, he wasn't surprised to find Vin already sitting in a chair that had been pulled up next to the injured man's bedside. He watched the tracker dip a cloth into a bowl of water, wring it out, then fold and lay it on Chris's forehead. When he reached the foot of the bed, he asked, "He all right?"
Vin nodded. "Nathan thinks so. Just runnin' a little fever is all." He met the man's gaze for a moment, then added, "Nate's gettin' somethin' t' eat," as an invitation for Wilmington to sit and talk, if he felt like it.
Buck nodded and grabbed the second chair in the room, carrying it over so he could sit down on the other side of the bed, but across from Vin. He sighed heavily as he looked down at Chris. "Damn, stud, what the hell were you thinkin' out there?" He shook his head, then met Vin's gaze and added, "The damned fool stepped right out into the open t' save my life."
"He'll be fine," Vin assured him.
Buck smiled and nodded, somewhat comforted by the assurance he heard in the sharpshooter's voice, and saw in his eyes. "Yeah, I know. He's too damn stubborn t' let this slow 'im down for very long…" He trailed off, trying to sort out the tangle of emotions that was churning through his guts. "He was just gettin' past that whole mess with Fowler…"
Vin watched Buck's expression as he ventured, "Chris seemed t' take that purty hard."
The big man nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Might've been his one chance to find out who killed his wife and son, an' why. Mine, too. Can't blame him for takin' it hard when it slipped away, especially like it did."
"Reckon not," Vin agreed, dipping his head as he thought again about the depths that kind of loss would touch. "Never seen a man willin' t' die like Fowler did. Helluva way t' go."
Buck looked up, his blue eyes flashing angrily, "Bastard did it just t' cause him more pain," he snapped, nodding at Chris. "Pure cruelty, that's all it was, the sonuvabitch. Losin' his family like that damned near killed Chris three years ago… never thought those wounds would get torn open like that again. Hoped they wouldn't, anyway… wasn't sure he'd survive it."
"Larabee's one 'a the strongest men I ever met," Vin offered.
Buck nodded his agreement with the statement, but his expression was still worried. "Sarah and Adam… well, they were his weakness, I guess you'd say. Still are, I think. I know he still mourns for 'em… Hell, guess he always will."
Vin considered that for a moment, then said softly, "Man c'n lose his soul 'n' still be alive, just ain't much of a life."
Wilmington looked up, meeting the tracker's gaze again. "That's sure as hell the truth, Vin. But he's buildin' a new life here; I see it every day. Thought things were changin' – for the better, too." He looked down at Chris again. "This just don't seem right is all."
Vin sat, waiting in the silence that fell between them for Buck to get around to telling him what was really on his mind. A few minutes later, the ladies' man did, after a long, heavy sigh.
"Ever since his family was killed… Chris has been lookin' for an excuse t' live, and one to die – in equal measures," Wilmington said softly, staring at his long-time friend as he spoke. "I don't appreciate bein' made one of those excuses today."
"Ya think he wanted t' die when he stepped out?"
"Don't rightly know," Buck admitted, chin coming up so his eyes met Tanner's, "and that's what scares the hell outta me."
Vin looked down at Larabee and frowned. Had Chris wanted to die? He hoped not; he wasn't ready to go back to living alone, wasn't sure he'd ever be able to face that again now. But he could understand why the blond might want to join his wife and son in whatever afterlife waited for him. A chill ran down his spine and he looked down at Larabee. Not yet, Chris, he thought. Ain't yer time yet.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chris walked through a world that seemed both hauntingly familiar and utterly foreign. The hills, the trees, the way the clouds broke over the jagged hills in the near distance, it all reminded him of someplace he'd seen once, but he couldn't remember where, or when. A chill snaked down his back, accompanied by a sense of foreboding.
Where was he? And why was he out here? He didn't think he was supposed to be here.
He glanced back over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Vin or one of the other peacekeepers close by, but he was alone.
Pony shifted under him and Chris tightened his grip on the reins, then frowned. Hadn't he just been walking?
But why would he be walking out here in the middle of nowhere?
He shook his head and wondered if he was hurt. Looking down at himself, he couldn't find any signs of obvious injury, and he didn't feel any pain, just a dull ache in his head.
When he looked up again he spotted a trail turning off the road he was traveling down. He knew he recognized it, but couldn't place it. Frustrated, he reined Pony over and clucked, the black gelding picking up his pace.
A few minutes later, although he wasn't sure it wasn't really just a few moments, he rounded a hill and found himself looking down at his old homestead. The house was still standing, as were the barn, corral, and windmill. Several horses milled behind the corral fence, some eating, others just enjoying the cool, sunny day.
But it was what he saw off to the side of the house that took his breath away: Sarah. She was standing with her back to him, hanging laundry, but he knew with absolute certainty that it was her. Long, almost-curly dark-auburn hair hung down almost to her hips, the sunlight making it shine whenever she moved.
He stepped shakily from Pony's back, and started toward her, but an excited squeal halted him.
"Papa!"
He turned just in time to scoop Adam up into his arms, the boy having launched himself into the air with a wild leap. The child's arms immediately encircled Chris's neck and hugged him tightly. "Papa! You're home!"
Sarah turned, a smile blooming on her face like a sunrise. She picked up her skirts and hurried over to her husband.
Chris set Adam back down and paused a moment, losing himself in the deep green of the woman's eyes. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe more so. Then, with a whoop of joy, he scooped her into his arms and spun her around. She tilted her head back and laughed, the sound pure music to his ears.
He kissed her, his eyes closing as the sweetness of her lips filled his soul like it was water, and he a thirsty man. When he finally put her down it was only because Adam was tugging persistently on his pant leg.
"Can we go fishin', Papa?" the boy asked, his tone hopeful, his green eyes round with excitement.
"Not today, sweetheart," Sarah told him, smoothing down his unruly hair. "Your papa just got home. He needs to eat supper and a get good night's sleep. Maybe tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" the boy nearly wailed. "That's forever!"
Chris smiled and ruffled Adam's hair, undoing all Sarah's work. "It'll be here before you know it," he told the child. "Now, why don't you go finish your chores before supper and we'll plan that fishing trip."
Adam pouted for a moment, but then he flung his arms around Chris's thighs and gave him another hug. "I'm glad you're home, Papa," he said, then stepped back, turned, and ran off toward the barn as fast as his little legs could carry him.
Sarah looked up at him and smiled. "He's missed you so much."
"I've– I've missed him, too," Chris just managed to say, a hard lump forming in his throat. Although he wasn't sure why, the warm homecoming shook him to the core, leaving him feeling weak and lightheaded. It was wrong, and he knew it, but at the same time it was everything he wanted.
She kissed his cheek and said, "Go on inside and get cleaned up. I'll finish hanging my wash, then come in and make you something to eat."
Chris nodded and pulled her into his arms again, this time for a shorter kiss that was much more desperate.
She pushed him back a little and smiled up at him. "Go on with ya."
He reluctantly let her go and walked over to the house. He paused on the porch, watching her for a moment. In the distance he thought he heard Buck's voice and guessed the man was helping Adam with whatever the boy was doing. He grinned. Sometimes he wasn't sure which of them was older.
Then, as he turned to step inside the small home he had built, he thought he heard Vin's voice as well. He turned back, a smile on his face to greet the man, but it immediately faded when he saw Sarah standing alone at the clothesline. He'd met Vin after–
He shook his head, unwilling to think about it. He stepped into the house, closing the door behind him, but he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong, very, very wrong.
Tuesday, 7 a.m.
The expression on Nathan's face when he walked into the saloon to join the others for breakfast the following morning cast an immediate pall on the gathering. Vin took one look at the healer and set his fork down, his face going slightly grey.
"What's wrong?" JD dared to ask first.
Jackson sat down and began to fill his plate from the waiting bowls of food as he said, "Chris is still sleepin'."
"Isn't that common for a head injury?" Ezra asked, but his brow furrowed with worry.
"Sometimes," the healer admitted somewhat reluctantly, "but I tried t' rouse him and I couldn't do it."
Buck's expression immediately turned apprehensive. "You couldn't wake him up? What does that mean, Nate?"
Nathan met Wilmington's worried gaze. "I shook him, called his name, but he just didn't wake up. Might be he's got a concussion." He glanced around the table at the men sitting there, all of whom were waiting for him to continue. He dropped back against his chair and sighed heavily. "Look, I ain't no doctor. Seems to me he should wake up now, but it ain't happened."
"What can we do?" Buck asked the healer.
Nathan considered the question for a few moments, then said, "If there was a doctor hereabouts, I'd say we ought t' fetch him."
"But there are no physicians. At least, none who aren't several days ride away," Ezra said nervously.
"You think I don't know that?" Nathan snapped at the gambler.
"Easy, brothers," Josiah interrupted, his voice pitched soft and low so it was soothing to the collection of short tempers seated around the table. "We're all worried about Chris, and I doubt any of us got much sleep last night."
Nathan nodded, then glanced at Ezra, saying, "Didn't mean–"
"Your apology is accepted, Mr. Jackson," Ezra interrupted quietly.
The healer offered the man a grateful smile, then turned back to the others saying, "Like I told ya, I done all I can, the rest is up t' Chris."
"He's strong," Vin said for everyone, but he met and held Buck's gaze. "He'll come 'round in his own time." At least he hoped the man would. But a knowing deep in his gut told him it wasn't going to be that easy.
Tuesday 3 p.m.
Thirty hours after he'd been hurt, Chris still lay in a sleep so deep no one could wake him, and everyone, especially Vin, was getting more worried and more scared.
The tracker sat that the blond's bedside, a frown on his face. He could feel Chris slipping farther and farther away, and there was nothing he could think of to stop it.
Tuesday 8 p.m.
Josiah found the tracker still sitting at the injured man's bedside, a seat Vin had occupied for almost every hour Larabee had been hurt. He took a seat in the second chair, positioned on the other side of the bed and asked, "Any change?"
"Nope."
Josiah leaned back, folding his arms over his chest and sighing heavily. After a few minutes passed in silence, he leaned forward and said, "Saw something like this once . . . while I was studying with a Cherokee holy man."
Vin looked up, meeting the older man's gaze and holding it, blue eyes plainly pleading for hope from whatever source the defrocked priest could provide. He didn't speak, but the expression was enough to prompt Sanchez to continue, even though he wasn't sure he could. He didn't want to raise Vin's hopes.
"It happened to a young warrior who'd lost his family to the fever. Had a wife, a son, and a baby girl, as I recall. He was out on a hunt with some of the other men when they died, so he didn't hear about it until he got back to the village. He felt their loss strong in his heart. So strong, in fact, he didn't take another wife, as was the custom of his people.
"A few years after their deaths, he was thrown from his horse and hit his head – rather like Chris here."
"And they couldn't wake 'im up?" Vin guessed, wondering where Josiah's story was heading.
"Nope, and they tried everything they could think of. The shaman said it was because the warrior had found his family again."
"Ya mean he died?" Tanner asked, his raspy voice going so tight it nearly squeaked.
"No," Josiah replied, shaking his head, "the shaman meant he'd found them in his dreams and he didn't want to lose them a second time, so he simply refused to wake up."
"Ya think that's why Chris won't come 'round?"
The former preacher shrugged. "Might be. No way to know for sure."
Vin leaned forward, gaze on Sanchez intense. "What'd the Cherokee do 'bout it?"
Josiah sighed and leaned forward more, resting his elbows on his knees and holding Vin's gaze as he said, "That's where this story gets a mite peculiar. You see, this warrior had himself a brother – the only blood family he had left – and they were very close. Well, the shaman, he gave the brother something that put him into a trance. Then, all the holy men gathered together and sang their healing songs while the brother went to bring the warrior back."
Vin's brow furrowed. "How he'd do that?"
Josiah shrugged again. "Don't rightly know, but when he came out of the trance, he said he'd found the warrior living with his dead family, but that he'd carried him back to the world of the living."
The tracker shook his head. "Don't make no sense, J'siah. The warrior was lyin' right there, an' his family was dead."
The big man grinned. "When I asked my teacher about it afterwards, he said the man had walked in his brother's soul and, because of that, he had found the warrior in a dream and was able to lead him back to the land of the living. The warrior woke up, returned to his life – even decided to take another wife."
Vin thought about that for a moment, then asked, "Think ya could do that fer Chris?"
Josiah's eyes widened and he sat back. "Me?" He shook his head, a small smile forming on his lips. "No, not me, Vin. It needs to be someone closer to his heart."
"Buck," Vin said immediately and started to stand.
"You honestly see Buck believin' a word of that story?" Josiah asked him.
"No," Vin admitted, his shoulders slumping as he dropped back onto his chair.
"But you did," Josiah said softly.
"Lived with–" The tracker stopped and looked up. "Me?"
"I think you could do it, Vin. If anyone could, it's you."
"J'siah, I ain't no shaman, an' I sure as hell ain't no holy man. Maybe the Seminole–"
"Lost their holy man a few months past," the former preacher said sadly. "Nathan told me about it. Actually, I was thinkin' Ko-je might be willing to help if he or the one of the other shamans on the reservation know a ceremony like what I saw. But that's another good reason why it can't be Buck."
Vin nodded, remembering all too clearly the ill feelings Buck had carried for Chanu and his people, even if the ladies' man had gotten past a lot of them when they discovered who had really killed Claire Mosley. Still, the wound was fresh and he couldn't see Ko-je and his people embracing the ladies' man this soon. "Buck ain't gonna like it none."
"Nathan's said he can't do any more for Chris. Just seems to me like this might be something similar to what I saw."
"An' if we do nothin', he'll die," Vin added, his expression turning hard. There was no way he was going to let that happen, not if there was anything left to be tried. He just couldn't lose the man.
Wednesday 8 a.m.
"You've both gone plum loco!" Buck stormed at Vin and Josiah as he paced in the saloon the following morning. "He needs a doctor, not some– some–" Seeing the angry flash in Vin's blue eyes, he stopped himself before he said something he knew he would regret. He looked to JD, Ezra, and Nathan, asking, "What do you boys think?"
"Ain't nothin' mo' I can do," Nathan replied. "Might as well let 'em try. Indians got their own ways of healin', and it works for 'em – might just work for Chris, too."
JD nodded. "I don't know anything about the Indians, or their medicines, but I trust Josiah and Vin," he told Buck. "Couldn't hurt to let 'em try."
"I concur," Ezra added quietly.
Buck sighed heavily, then turned back to Josiah and Vin. "All right," he conceded, "but I'm goin' with ya."
"I don't think that would be a good idea, brother," Josiah said. "You didn't exactly get along with Ko-je and his sons and we're going to need the goodwill of those people, and you're a little… prickly, right now. No offense."
Buck started to argue, but he knew the older man was right. He didn't feel comfortable out on the Jicarilla reservation, never had. "I can't just wait–"
"Someone's gotta stay and look after the town," JD said quickly. "Ya heard that last man, Buck, the rest of the Palmer Gang might come back to even the score."
Wilmington glanced from Vin and Josiah to JD, then back again. "All right, I'll stay, but if you're not back in a few days–"
"Be back soon as Chris wakes up an' he's ready t' travel," Vin interrupted.
The two men stood, their gazes locked, both half-angry and all-scared. Buck looked away first, saying, "Ya just see to it that's what happens."
Vin nodded. "Do all I c'n, Bucklin, ya got m' word on it."
Buck nodded, knowing that the tracker's feelings for Larabee ran deep. "That's all I need."
Vin dipped his head, humbled by the big man's trust and faith in him. He just prayed that it worked; he wasn't ready to lose Chris yet, not before he knew for sure if Larabee could return the feelings he had for the gunman.
Wednesday 10 a.m.
It took almost an hour to prepare a rented wagon to carry the injured man, but once that was done, Josiah and Buck carried Chris down and laid him in the bed that had been well padded with straw covered by blankets, then hitched up the mule team.
When the two peacekeepers were ready to leave, Nathan reined his horse up alongside the mules. "I'm goin' with you," he told them. "Least as far as the reservation, just in case yo' need me."
Vin nodded. "Obliged."
Buck, Ezra, and JD had stood on the boardwalk outside the saloon, watching the preparations. Wilmington was still upset, and not at all happy about what they were planning to do, but he was also desperate enough to try anything to help his friend. "You take it real careful there, Josiah," he called to the man when he climbed up to drive the wagon.
"Slow and easy, brother," the former preacher assured him.
Vin rolled onto Peso's back, then urged the gelding over next to the boardwalk where he looked down at Buck and promised, "We'll do everythin' we c'n."
"I know you will," Buck replied, proffering his hand.
Vin leaned over and gripped it, Indian style. He met the ladies' man's eyes and held his gaze for a long moment, then released him, saying quietly, "No matter what happens, this ain't yer fault, Bucklin."
"Feels like it is," the ladies' man replied, his voice pitched for the tracker alone.
"Godspeed, gentlemen," Ezra called as they headed out.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chris drove the wagon along a dusty road, the conveyance bumping and rattling. Sarah sat beside him, her arm around his back, her head leaning against his shoulder.
"It's been too long since we all went on a picnic," she said.
Chris smiled down at her. "Well, today's the day for it."
In the back of the wagon he could hear Adam and Josiah talking, but as soon as he recognized the older man's voice, he knew something was wrong again. He wanted to glance over his shoulder and look, but he was too afraid to bring himself to do it.
Shifting the reins to one hand, he slipped his arm around his wife and pulled her closer as they continued along. Glancing out at the landscape, he forced a smile and tried to ignore the buzz of conversation going on behind them, but he couldn't help listening for Vin's voice. It made him almost angry, but he couldn't stop himself and it made him feel a little like he was being unfaithful to Sarah.
He looked down at her and she smiled up at him, understanding in her eyes. "He cares about you," she said softly.
Chris nodded and looked back out at the landscape, knowing he cared about Tanner as well.
Wednesday 2 p.m.
Josiah and Ko-je returned after a long walk in the desert, Vin and Nathan both sitting in the shade of the wagon, waiting for their arrival. Chris still lay inside the bed, sleeping, a sheen of sweat on his skin from the afternoon heat.
As they drew closer, Josiah left the old chief's side and walked over to join the other two peacekeepers.
"What'd he say?" Vin asked the preacher.
"His people don't have a ceremony like the one I saw, but he's going to talk to the old shaman; maybe they'll be able to find a way to help us."
"How long?" Nathan questioned, worried now.
Josiah shrugged. "As long as it takes."
"Best we get Chris under a lean-to, then, where it won't be so hot," the healer said. "Brought some cloths we can use to help keep him cool, too."
Vin stood, then helped Nathan up and the three men got to work.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chris and Sarah sat in the shade of a large tree. Nearby, a small creek ran past them, the breeze blowing over the surface of the water providing a little respite from the stifling afternoon heat.
The gunslinger was lying on the ground, his head resting in his wife's lap. She smiled down at him, her fingers stroking through his hair.
"What're you thinkin'?" she asked, the faintest trace of an Irish accent, a gift from her mother, making the words sound sweet to his ears.
"Nothin'," he lied.
Her smile turned a little coy and she leaned over him, her lips brushing his forehead. "I love you," she whispered.
"Mmm," he replied, closing his eyes. "I love you, too. Always have, from the first time I saw you. . ." He paused, listening to Adam's laughter and wondering what the boy was doing. He opened his eyes and sat up. "Where's Adam?"
"Playing down by the creek," Sarah replied a little nervously. "Don't worry, he's fine."
Chris cocked his head to one side, other voices filtering through the brush that grew along the water… Vin's… Nathan's… Josiah's.
He shivered and quickly looked at Sarah, who smiled at him, her expression adoring. She reached out and cupped his cheek, her hand cool against his warm skin, and he leaned in to kiss her, even as he tried to ignore the voices that continued to haunt his thoughts.
Wednesday, 8 p.m.
It was several hours later, the sun having set below the western horizon, when the old chief returned.
"What news, Ko-je?" Josiah asked him.
"It is a good thing the spirits told me to trust you," he replied with a small smile. "Nachise will pray on your request tonight. If the spirits show him how to do this ritual you describe, he will be ready to begin at sunrise."
"And if the spirits don't show 'im?" Vin asked quietly, his gaze on the dancing flames of the small fire they had built to chase away the coolness of the nighttime air.
Ko-je shook his head sadly. "Then we cannot help you." He turned and walked away.
A moment later an old woman arrived and handed Josiah and Nathan a bowl of stew, which they accepted with nods of thanks. She turned and started back to her teepee.
"Ma'am, what about Vin?" Nathan called after the woman, but she didn't look back at them.
The tracker shook his head. "Ain't gonna be nothin' fer me. They want me t' fast, in case they c'n do the ceremony."
Nathan nodded his understanding, he and Josiah eating their suppers in silence. When they were done, the two men settled in for the night, Vin staying where he was, sitting next to the small fire within easy reach of Chris.
When they two peacekeepers were sleeping, Vin reached out and cupped the side of Chris's face. "Reckon y' might be able t' hear me," he said softly. "Don't know where y' are, Chris, but I want y' t' know 'm gonna try an' find ya. Got some feelings fer y' I want t' share, but y' gotta come back. Y' hear me? Y' gotta come home."
Thursday, 3 a.m.
Vin sat, staring into the dying flames of their small fire. In a few hours the sun would rise and Chris's fate would be sealed. A part of him understood the gunslinger's desire to return to his family. There had been many nights the tracker had wished he could have another day with his mother, whose face was now only a vague, hazy memory in his mind, or another day with his Kiowa family, which had been killed by the Army. But another part of him was confused by Larabee's lack of fight. Didn't Chris know he'd die if he didn't wake up?
Tanner had never seen Chris Larabee run away from anything, except maybe his pain, which the gunslinger occasionally tried to drown in a whiskey bottle. But he had to believe Larabee wanted to come back, that, somewhere deep inside, he knew how Tanner felt about him and maybe even returned some of those feelings – at least a little.
The tracker jumped when a hand closed on his shoulder and he looked up at the old man who had come up silently behind him. He met the shaman's probing gaze and held it.
After a long moment, the old man nodded. Then, with a grunt, Nachise turned and started for the sweat lodge.
"Will y' do it?" Vin called after him.
The man stopped and turned to look at Vin. He spoke in his own tongue, but the sharpshooter knew what the word meant: "Yes."
Thursday, 6 a.m.
Ko-je sat next to Nachise, waiting as the sun slowly rose and broke free of the horizon. Josiah and Nathan flanked Vin, who sat across from the two old men, waiting patiently. Several other men filled the rest of the space in the sweat lodge. Once the sun had risen, the east-facing opening was closed and the sweat began.
They were all naked, and sweat quickly began to roll off their skin as the enclosed space grew hotter and hotter. One of the men chanted softly, a second beat a small drum, and yet another regularly added water and herbs to the hot rocks in the center of the small, enclosed space at regular intervals, causing steam to curl up and filling the air with the pungent aroma of sage and other herbs.
Vin wasn't sure how long they sat there like that, but he was feeling decidedly lightheaded when they all finally rose and stumbled from the enclosure. The oldest of the men lead them directly to a small pond, fed by a spring, and waded into the cool water. The others waited their turns, dipping into the water to cleanse themselves. That done, most of the men, including Nathan and Josiah, began to dress, but Vin was immediately led off to one of the teepees, only Ko-je and Nachise accompanying him.
They stopped just outside the open flap, and Vin was handed a breechclout, which he put on, his hands shaking slightly. He was then led inside.
Chris was lying on a stack of blankets, still unconscious. Someone had removed his clothes as well, although he too wore a breechclout like Tanner.
Ko-je sat down on Larabee's right and motioned for Vin to sit at Chris's head. Nachise and another man Vin hadn't seen before took up their positions – the shaman on the gunslinger's left, the stranger at Larabee's feet.
Nachise handed Vin a small bowl half-full of a milky white liquid and Ko-je instructed, "Drink."
Vin raised the bowl to his lips and sniffed first, but didn't recognize the odd odor. He took a sip and immediately made a face as he forced himself to swallow the bitter-tasting concoction. "This is worse 'n horse piss," he told Ko-je.
The old chief nodded, a slight smile on his lips. "Drink," he repeated.
Vin took a deep breath, held it, and swallowed the rest of the liquid in a single gulp. He shuddered violently as he handed the empty bowl back to the shaman, Nachise chortling softly at the tracker's reaction.
The old shaman set the empty vessel aside, then picked up a tied bundle of fresh sage, hawk feathers, and several fragments of deer antler and animal bones that had each been decorated with beads, fur, and feathers. He began to chant, softly at first, his voice growing steadily louder as he continued.
Vin swallowed convulsively, his vision blurring slightly as he sat, listening to the man's song. He felt the sweat break out on his upper lip, and then along his hairline, but a slight chill shook his body and, a few moments later, his teeth began to chatter. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, he noted absently, but the shaman's song quickly carried his concerns away before he could act upon them.
After a few minutes, or several hours, Vin couldn't be sure which, his body began to feel light and the tracker briefly wondered if he might not just float up off the ground and blow away on a breeze. He wanted to grab hold of something, to make sure he stayed safely on the ground, but there was nothing available except Larabee.
He reached for the blond, but could no longer see how far his hands were from the man.
Ko-je reached over, took Vin's wrists and tugged, forcing Tanner to lean over Larabee. The old man positioned the tracker's hands – one on Chris's forehead, the other on the gunslinger's chest, just over his heart.
Nachise stopped chanting and the stranger seated at Larabee's feet picked up the song. The shaman spoke quietly to Ko-je, who translated the words into English for Vin. "Your friend is lost, but you know him well. You know what is in his heart, and in his thoughts. The spirits will guide you to him, if you let them. Give yourself to the spirits and they will take you."
Having to lean over like he was, Vin felt slightly sick to his stomach, but he held the position Ko-je had placed him in and tried to focus his thoughts, which seemed to slip and slide out of his grasp like a wriggling fish. Another chill jolted his body and he closed his eyes, swallowing several times to keep from being sick to his stomach.
In the semidarkness behind his closed eyelids, the chanting grew louder and louder until it assailed his ears, causing him to flinch. He could feel the sweat pouring off his body like a heavy rain and wished he was back in the cool water of the spring, but that was impossible. He couldn't walk back outside now to save his own life.
Vin forced his eyes open, but everything was out of focus and spinning wildly. He squeezed them closed again, tightly this time. His muscles began to twitch and his breath caught in his chest. Sounds, sights, smells, and tactile sensations swirled together in his mind, chasing away all of his thoughts.
What's happenin'? Damn… Chris?
He felt himself begin to fall, but hands caught him and carefully laid him down. Someone made sure one of his hands was resting on Larabee's shoulder.
Chris? Vin called, reaching out with his mind for the one man he trusted above all others, wishing the gunslinger was there to anchor him through the maelstrom of sensory stimulation that was overwhelming his senses.
Then the feel of Larabee's sweat-damp skin under his palm came into sharp focus in his battered mind and he tried to breathe deeply as he reveled in the sensation of his skin touching Chris's. He wanted to move his hand, feel more of the man's bare chest, but he didn't know how make that happen.
Chris, I don't know what t' do… Y' gotta meet me halfway.
Ko-je was talking to him, but Vin could no longer make out the man's words, which were disjointed sounds, like insects buzzing around his ears.
Chris? he called again, fear beginning to make his heart race even faster than it already was. 'M in trouble, Chris, I need ya... Where are ya, Cowboy?
And then Vin was falling again, tumbling wildly for what seemed to be forever, and this time there were no hands to catch him…* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin gasped, his body jerking. He started to cry out, but stopped himself. He hadn't fallen after all. In fact, he was standing on his own two feet, right in the middle of a well-tended yard. He glanced around, finding a small ranch house and other structures.
How had be gotten here? He'd been falling, he was sure of it. But here he was, whole, dressed in his clothes… Hadn't he been naked?
He shook his head. It made no sense.
He glanced over at the small house again… barn… corral, where several handsome horses stood, undisturbed by his sudden and unusual arrival.
Ain't never been here b'fore, he thought, frowning, but the place felt familiar, like he should recognize it.
Hearing laughter coming from inside the house, he walked over to the porch, hesitating a moment before he stepped up onto it. Some part of him didn't want to know who lived here, but he knew he had to find out, although why that was the case, he couldn't say.
He crossed to the door, but didn't knock. Instead, he called out hesitantly, "Chris? Y' here, pard?"
A moment later the door opened and Chris Larabee stepped out onto the porch to join the tracker. "Vin?" he asked, smiling a warm welcome. "What're you doin' here?"
"I's lookin' fer ya," Tanner replied, but his voice sounded far away to his own ears. His gaze swept over the man, dressed in tan pants and a pale red shirt, a far cry from the black he was used to seeing the blond in.
"You want to come inside?" Larabee asked him, gesturing to the door. "Sarah's making supper."
Vin shook his head, frowning. Sarah? And then he remembered: the accident, Josiah's story, their ride out to the reservation with Chris in the wagon. "Chris, we need t' talk."
Larabee's smile faded, but he replied, "Sure, but–"
Sarah stepped out to join them, interrupting Chris. She smiled at Vin, then looked to her husband, saying, "Can you go find Adam? Supper's almost ready and he needs to wash up."
"Sure, I'll go get him," Chris told her with an indulgent smile, then watched her as Sarah stepped back into the house and closed the door behind her. He turned to Vin his expression more serious, saying, "Come on, we can talk away from the house."
The tracker followed Larabee across the yard to the barn where they found Adam playing on a swing that had been tied to the stout branch of a large tree growing next to the building. The boy waved to his father as they approached, then jumped from the wooden seat and ran to Chris, who scooped him up into his arms.
"He's a fine lookin' boy," Vin said, realizing just what the gunslinger had lost for the first time – beautiful loving wife, happy little boy. No wonder he didn't want to come back. And what could he offer in return? Life in Four Corners… friendship… himself? He couldn't image that any of it would come close to replacing what Chris had lost, and found again here.
Larabee beamed with pride. "Adam, this is my good friend, Vin Tanner."
"Howdy, Vin!" the boy greeted him.
"Adam," the tracker replied, touching his finger to the brim of his hat.
Chris set the boy back down and said, "Time for you to go get washed up, son. Your mother's got supper almost ready."
"Okay, Papa!" Adam set out at a run, heading straight for the house.
The two men stood under the tree, watching the boy until he disappeared inside the house. Then Chris turned to his friend and asked, "Now, tell me why you're here."
Vin sighed softly. "J'siah thought I could bring y' back."
"Bring me back?" Chris asked, looking both confused and wary.
Vin stood for a moment, not sure how to explain it all to the man. He decided a straight-forward approach would be best. "Chris, y' know this ain't real, don't ya?"
The gunslinger's eyes narrowed slightly. "What're you sayin', Vin."
"All 'a this–" He waved his hand at the homestead. "It ain't real," the tracker stated bluntly. "Sarah an' Adam are dead. They died in a fire 'bout three years ago."
Chris snorted softly and tried to laugh, but he couldn't quite pull it off. The fear that exploded in his chest made it impossible. "They're–"
"Dead," Vin repeated softly. He hated hurting his friend, but he didn't know another way. "Y' got hurt an' I guess y' figured bein' here with yer family's better 'n livin' in Four Corners without 'em. Problem is, yer dyin', so I come t' take y' back."
Chris's gaze flickered from the house to Vin and back again. He knew the tracker was telling him the truth, but he didn't want to believe him. He couldn't believe him. He was home. Sarah and Adam were there, loving, real, just like he remembered them.
"I think you'd better leave," Larabee said softly but the words were full of deadly intent.
"Told y', I come t' take y' back with me," Vin said stubbornly.
Chris shook his head. "I'm stayin' right here."
"Damn it, Chris, y' loved 'em an' y' miss 'em, I understand that, but d' y' really think they'd want y' t' die t' be with 'em?"
Larabee glowered at the tracker. "That's my family!" he snarled, pointing back at the house.
"They're gone, Chris. That house burned t' the ground an' took the two 'a 'em right along with it."
"Like hell!" he bellowed, stepping forward and taking a swing at Vin, who ducked and scrambled back out of the way.
"Y' know 'm tellin' y' the truth," Vin rapped out, hurt and worry closing his throat halfway. "I'd never lie t' y', Chris. Y' know that."
"If this isn't real, then how the hell did you get here?" Chris demanded angrily.
That brought Vin up short. "Don't rightly know," he admitted. "We took y' t' the reservation. Shaman an' his spirits must 'a done it."
Chris frowned, the faint sounds of chanting reaching them on a warm breeze. He shook his head, refusing to listen. "This is my home, Vin, and that's my family. This is where I belong."
"Used t' be," Vin agreed with a nod, "but it's all gone now, pard – three years gone."
Chris shook his head stubbornly. "No."
Remembering Josiah's story, and how the Cherokee brother had said he'd "carried" the warrior back, Vin decided he might as well give that a try since it was clear Chris wasn't going to listen to reason. He lunged forward, tackling Chris around the waist and forcing him back up against the tree trunk. "You're comin' with me, Lar'bee."
"Like hell I am," Chris hissed, bringing his locked hands down hard between the tracker's shoulder blades and jerking his knee up into the man's mid-section at the same time.
Vin grunted painfully as he fell to his knees, an explosion of stars erupting in front of his eyes as he fought to refill his suddenly empty lungs. That had hurt. How could it hurt if it wasn't real? He looked up at Chris, confused.
The ensuing attack was both swift and brutal.
Chris set upon the smaller man, raining blows down on him until Vin lay, curled up in a tight ball on the ground, arms held tightly over his head as he tried to protect himself from the onslaught of fists and feet.
Larabee didn't pull a single punch or kick, years of frustration and pain finally finding release in the physical attack. And through it all Tanner never once uttered a single sound, or struck back a single time.
Minutes, hours, an eternity later – neither man knew which – the gunslinger finally stopped, standing over the beaten man, panting hard to catch his breath. Something in his mind told him if he'd really done this to a man, he'd be dead – long dead. But Tanner wasn't dead. Hurt, yes, but he was still breathing. "Go! Now!" he snapped angrily.
When Tanner didn't move, he kicked him viciously, twice. "Now! Go!"
Vin whimpered softly and slowly uncurled. His face was bloody and bruised.
"Get out of here," Larabee hissed. "Or so help me, I'll shoot you where you lay."
Vin rolled over, retching into the dirt, then climbed unsteadily to his feet, hugging his midsection with his arms. He hurt all over, a deep, bone searing agony that left him weak and sick. "Listen t' me, Chris," he pleaded, gaze locked on Larabee's. "Y' can stay here an' die if'n y' want, or y' c'n come back an' have me an' live. I just come t' give y' the choice. It's up t' y' t' choose now."
The tracker took a couple of shuffling steps away, then stopped and added, "Just remember, y' got folks who care 'bout y' back in Four Corners. Friends, like me. Some 'a us even love ya; folks who ain't already dead." And with that, Tanner turned away from Chris and started stumbling, adding as loudly as he could, "Guess we ain't enough fer ya. But the way I see it, men who'll watch yer back an' take a bullet fer y' are a damn sight better company 'n a couple 'a ghosts!"
He'd failed. Larabee wasn't going to come with him; he was going to stay and die. Tears streamed down Vin's face, but he kept walking, his entire body a knot of molten agony. He silently prayed Chris would follow him, but he didn't stop or look back until he felt a hand grab his shoulder, halting him. Turning, he met Larabee's pain-filled gaze. His knees gave out and the tracker dropped to his knees, moaning as shards of pain sliced though him.
"I love– I loved 'em, Vin. I loved 'em so damned much." Chris gulped, trying desperately to control his emotions, but it was a battle he was doomed to lose. "The pain– When they– I thought I was gonna die too, just from missin' 'em. I miss 'em so much…"
Vin ground his teeth together and forced himself to stand. He swayed on his feet, but managed to get one arm to move so he could reach out, resting his hand on Chris's shoulder, squeezing gently. He could feel Larabee's sweat-slicked skin and realized with a start that he was actually feeling the Chris Larabee's shoulder who lay in the teepee back on the reservation.
Chris's chin dropped as he started to sob. "I can't leave 'em again, Vin, I just can't. I can't lose 'em again. Not again… not again… I can't…"
Vin stepped closer, pulling the man into a gentle hug. "Y' ain't leavin' 'em, Chris. This ain't real," he repeated softly. "C'mon back with me, Chris… please. They'll still be waitin' fer y' when it's yer time, but this ain't it. I need y', Cowboy. I need y' t' come back with me. Got things I want t' tell y', an' I can't if'n y' stay here and die on me."
Larabee took a step back and stared at the tracker. Chris was panting for breath, his eyes full of unshed tears he couldn't allow to escape. If it did, the pain would consume him all over again and he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it a second time. It would kill him for sure, or condemn him to the living death he had barely escaped the last time.
Vin saw the door to the house open, Sarah and Adam stepping out onto the porch. She was holding the boy in her arms. The tracker wasn't sure what he saw on the woman's face: Longing? Sadness? Defeat? All of them.
Chris saw Tanner's focused gaze and turned to look back at them as well. "Sarah," he moaned.
"Y' gotta pick, Chris," Vin said softly. "Them or me, live or die." And with that Tanner turned and started shuffling back down the trail, his body screaming in pain every time he took a step.
Chris looked from Vin's retreating form to his family and back again. He knew what Tanner had told him was true; he'd known it all along, but he missed them so much…
He looked back to the tracker, who was getting farther and farther away.
Vin was his friend, and something more – something he didn't really understand. And he had other friends now, too – men he called his family. And it was true. They were his family… And they were alive… And real.
Vin was alive; he was real. And he's said he needed him. He didn't want to lose Vin – not now, not ever.
In the space of an eye-blink the house and the rest of the ranch were gone, the gunslinger left standing in what looked to him like a thick, clinging ground fog. "Vin!" he called, suddenly very afraid. If he got lost now, he knew he'd die, whether or not he wanted to.
"This way, Chris," he heard the tracker call. "Just follow me… This way."
"Vin!" he cried again, feeling the first swell of true panic pound through him. He darted into the fog, running blindly forward. "Vin, I can't see you! Where are you?"
"This way, pard."
Larabee stumbled to a stop, bent over, hands on his thighs, gulping for air. "Damn it, Vin, don't leave me here! Vin!"
Chris jumped and shied away when he felt a hand touch his shoulder, but then he saw Vin standing beside him and he sagged with relief. "Take me back," he told the tracker. "Please."
Vin's blue eyes were full of emotion as he nodded. "It's this way, pardner."
"You sure?" Larabee asked him, reaching out to grab hold of the tracker's arm.
"Nope," Tanner replied, adding a moment later, "Just didn't want y' t' worry none."
Chris laughed nervously, then looked at the tracker again. He looked terrible. Had he done that to the man? My God. "Vin," he breathed, his voice full of anguish.
"'S all right," Tanner said.
"But–"
"Important thing's yer comin' with me. The rest'll keep." Vin reached out, his fingers curling into the fabric of Larabee's shirt, but he could see the man's skin under his touch. "I can't lose y', Chris. I love y' too much."
Thursday, 3 p.m.
In the teepee, Vin groaned and tried to sit up, but his muscles were too weak and he hurt too much to accomplish the feat. But Ko-je was there, helping him, the chief's arm strong under the tracker's trembling shoulders as he lifted him up off the ground as Tanner arched.
"Chris?" Vin asked thickly, realizing for the first time just how much pain he was really in – all over.
"He has returned," the old chief said. "Now, you must rest."
Nachise pressed another small bowl into Vin's hand and guided it to the tracker's mouth so Tanner could drink.
Hoping this wouldn't taste as bad as the stuff in the first bowl, Vin took a hesitant sip, surprised to find it was only water. He gulped down the remainder, doing the same to a second, and then a third bowl before his eyes dropped closed and he was sound asleep, his last thoughts of Chris, who he knew was lying close by. He wanted to reach out and touch the man, but the simple act was far beyond his ability.
Ko-je watched Tanner slip into sleep and nodded. It was done, and now the two men's souls were joined. He wondered if either of them had any idea what that meant.
Friday, 8 a.m.
The following morning Vin shuffled stiffly out to join Nathan and Josiah at the wagon. Chris was already lying in the bed, and the healer's horse was saddled, but its reins were tied to the back of the wagon.
"How's he doin'?" the tracker managed to ask, even his voicebox hurting when he used it.
"Good," Nathan replied with an understanding smile. "He was awake a while ago, even managed t' take a few swallows of broth. Think he's gonna be fine now – if he rests."
"You'll see that he does," Vin whispered as he nodded, accepting Peso's reins from Josiah.
"You, however, look terrible, brother."
"Just a little achy down in m' bones," Tanner replied, climbing sluggishly into the saddle with a grunt.
"You wanna ride in the wagon?" Nathan asked him, brow furrowing with concern.
Vin shook his head. "'M hopin' the ride'll shake the knots out."
"All right," the healer said, "but if you change yo'r mind, I'll trade places with you."
Vin nodded his thanks, then turned in his saddle to glance over to where Ko-je and Nachise stood, watching them. "A'ho," he called weakly to them.
"K'ta," the old chief responded with a smile. The tracker might as well be one of them; maybe their spirits had decided he was. He would have to ask them.
"K'ta," Vin replied. "Tell Chanu 'm sorry he weren't here. I'll stop by an' see him soon."
Ko-je nodded. When the young man returned, he would have to give him a Jacrilla name. He had earned it. "I will tell him. He will be happy to see you again."
And then the peacekeepers were on their way back to Four Corners, slowly and carefully, so they didn't jar Larabee too much.
Nathan and Josiah carried on a steady, quiet conversation while Vin rode a little ways off from the wagon so he could keep an eye on the terrain, just in case there was any trouble headed their way. But his mind wandered, memories slowly resolving in his mind – Chris at his old homestead… Sarah and Adam… the beating… the look on Larabee's face as his world had crumbled around him for a second time. There had been such pain in that look. Had he done the right thing?
He didn't blame Chris at all for the beating. Hell, he figured he deserved it. If it had been him, back with his lost family, he would have done the same if Chris had come to take him away.
Or would he?
Tanner sighed. No, he probably wouldn't; his feelings for Larabee ran too deep. But he could still understand why Chris had. He loved his wife and son, it made sense he wanted to return to them, be with them, stay with them.
At least it had worked out… Or maybe it had just been a dream and Chris had awakened on his own, just like Nathan had hoped he would. Vin didn't know, and he didn't really care. Chris was back with them and that was the important thing.
He just wished he could pack his feelings for Chris away, somewhere deep in his heart where they wouldn't get him into any trouble.
"Vin, yo' feelin' all right?" Nathan asked him.
"Yeah, 'm fine," Tanner replied, but he knew that was a lie. He'd told Larabee how he felt, and now he was going to have to suffer the consequences. He could only hope the man didn't remember what'd he said, but somehow he doubted he was going to get that lucky.