+ + + + + + +
A drink might set it right. Never had before, but there was always a first time. And hell, it wasn't like the day could get much worse.
But of course it did. Vin had just crossed the street when he caught the tail end of Chris's horse as it raced out of town - with Chris on it. Larabee hadn't spoken to him since the scene outside the jail a few hours earlier and why was he surprised? No one else was speaking to him, either.
He'd gone to help Mrs. Potter unload her shipment, like he always did, but she'd turned him away. "Thank you, Mr. Tanner, but I won't be needing your help today," she'd clipped, before pretty much slamming the door in his face.
Nasty rumors, ugly accusations were no rarity in his life. More often than not, he was perceived as something he wasn't.
I'm not the way they see me . . .
And he didn't care all that much what other people thought of him anyway. Or he didn't think he did . . . didn't used to, anyway. He had his pride, but it wasn't based on being liked or accepted.
Still, Mrs. Potter's rejection had stung more than he'd cared to admit, and a nice stiff drink just might help it all go down a bit easier.
Shadows tinted the saloon when he entered; dusk gaining a foothold on the day. Inez had lit a few lamps, but still Vin had no problem sidling up to the bar without being noticed. He was grateful when the beauty immediately poured him a glass, and he nearly said so, but her eyes stopped him. She tipped her head towards the far corner of the room where a group of men sat at a round table. Vin took his cue and stayed quiet.
Conklin led the pack, his voice cutting through the thick smoke of stale cigars. "What do you expect from a no good Indian lover?"
"I didn't expect that! Hell, not with Chris Larabee. Can't be true," another voice countered.
"Larabee ain't been right since he lost his wife and kid. And Tanner's had his hooks in him from the beginning. Following him around all the time like a damn dog . . . twisting his mind. God only knows what kinds of things he's done to him. The question isn't if it's true, it's what are we gonna do about it?"
Vin's grip tightened around the glass as he took a long swallow. It sure hadn't taken long for Ella's comments to get around town, and he wondered about that. JD and Mary weren't likely to spill the story, so who had? He remembered then . . . Ella's change of clothing and Mrs. Potter's face when she saw him at the door. Well, it was bound to get out sooner or later. And Conklin and his cronies were idiots; no use letting them upset him.
"We can't let his kind stay on here. If he won't go willingly, we'll have t' take matters into our own hands. Larabee, too, if he don't see reason," Conklin added.
Vin lips twitched at the thought of the old men trying to take on him and Chris, but Inez wasn't amused. She leaned forward and spoke softly, "Men are shot and hung for much less. I once saw a man who was accused of immoral acts with another, dragged through the street by a horse until he had no skin left. Please be careful, Señor Vin."
Her dark eyes pleaded with him, and he was touched by her concern. But even more, he was grateful that he saw no question, no judgment, no condemnation in her eyes. Whatever the truth about him and Chris turned out to be, it didn't matter to her.
The last swallow of whiskey went down hard, burning clear through his gut; a red flag warning that his life was rapidly going to hell and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Tipping his hat towards Inez, he turned to leave the saloon.
But another comment made by one of the men at the back table captured his attention once more.
"Can we risk such depravity being visited upon our sons? Our grandsons? How do we know he won't try to poison their minds as well as their bodies? How do we know he hasn't done things to them - touched them - already?"
It was too much. His fingers itched to pull the mare's leg from its holster as he froze near the batwing doors. But putting a bullet in Conklin would only fuel the fire, as would any words he attempted to speak in his defense. Hatred, intolerance, bigotry . . . fear . . . emotions he knew well and had been the victim of far too many times. Better to walk away.
He's worth it . . .
The evening shadows weighed heavy on his shoulders as he made his way to the livery. He'd offered to take Buck's turn on patrol, and decided he might just as well set off a bit early. Wilmington, clearly angry, had merely grunted and walked away. Vin hadn't figured on Buck believing Ella - hadn't figured any of the boys would. But maybe he was wrong about that.
In any case, it would be best if he left town for the night. He'd planned to keep a close eye out for Ella's men anyway, though he didn't expect them to come after her. The mad woman really believed Chris would come through for her in the end, and Vin doubted she'd planned ahead in case he didn't.
Peso nuzzled his hand when he approached the stall, like the damn ornery horse sensed his rider was having a bad day. Vin shook his head as he picked up his saddle. Even his horse wasn't reacting like he'd expected. It was then that he heard voices outside the livery, in the back alley, and he recognized them immediately as belonging to three of his partners.
"Well, if it is as Mrs. Gaines claims, I would hazard a guess that Mr. Tanner initiated it. Heaven only knows what sort of . . . habits he picked up during his time with the tribes," Ezra's smooth southern drawl began.
"Don't matter who started it," Nathan replied. "It's wrong. It's a sin - an abomination. The Bible says so. You should know that, Josiah."
Even from the confines of the livery, Vin heard Josiah's deep sigh. "It's been my experience that most folk pick and choose what they want to believe from the Good Book. You should know that better than any of us, Nathan."
Vin held his breath, waiting for Nathan's reply.
"There's no way around this, Josiah. It ain't natural and it ain't right. And if it's true, I ain't sure I can ride with 'em anymore."
"I'm afraid I will have to second that," Ezra agreed. "The very notion sickens me."
Vin was beginning to feel decidedly unwell himself.
"Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," Josiah replied, his voice rising.
It was silent for a moment, until Nathan offered hopefully, "Listen, we're jumpin' to conclusions here. It probably ain't even true."
"Obviously we all believe there is some kernel of truth to her accusations or we wouldn't be standing in a dark alley having this conversation. I must confess that the thought that our two comrades might be engaged in an improper relationship has crossed my mind more than once," Ezra admitted. "They are inordinately close."
"Yes, they are," Josiah said forcefully. "What's wrong with that? Scripture speaks of Jonathon and David, two men who were inordinately close, Ezra. And you want to quote the Bible, Nathan? Well how about this: "Love one another". Or maybe you prefer this one: "Thou shalt not kill." Although I sure never heard you complain about Chris and Vin shooting those men to save your life."
"That ain't the same thing and you know it!"
Please stop . . .
"Gentlemen, this argument is hardly productive. The problem here is what are we going to do about it? Rumors are running rampant throughout our humble village and I fear that the situation will soon be out of our-"
"Don't do nothin'," Vin interrupted as he walked Peso out of the livery and into the alley.
Three open mouths greeted him, but none uttered a sound.
"People believe what they want to," he went on, looking Ezra square in the eye. He turned to Nathan then and added, "Don't like anyone different than them, ain't that right, Nathan?"
Nathan looked down, but he didn't reply.
As Vin mounted his horse and slapped the reins, he heard Josiah call to him, "Vin!" But he didn't stop and he didn't look back.
He didn't ride the patrol route, either, turning towards Chris's cabin instead. The ache in his back kicked up again, reminding him that Ella was more than a bad dream. A cool wind battered his face, and even the light of the moon felt cold and angry. Remnants of whiskey snuck up the back of his throat, and he swallowed it back down. Not so easy to swallow the taste of hurt and disappointment, though.
Chris was right all along. It wouldn't go down easy. They'd have to choose.
I know what I want . . .
He approached the cabin, certain that was where Chris had escaped to earlier, and called out his familiar warning, "Vin coming in." He only hoped Chris wasn't too drunk to catch it. All he needed was a bullet to complete his day.
But Larabee was there, holding the door open for him by the time he dismounted. "Is there trouble?" he asked anxiously.
Vin noted the clear eyes and steady hands and breathed a sigh of relief. "Not really," he replied as he moved past Chris to enter the cabin.
It was fairly dark inside, a fire in the hearth the only source of light, but Vin didn't question it. He took off his hat and shook out his hair, as Chris closed the door and looked at him expectantly.
"Just . . . things are heatin' up, is all. Needed to get out, clear my head. I'm takin' patrol anyway."
"What? I thought I told you to be careful! Whose gonna watch your back out there?"
Vin shook his head ruefully. "Ain't no one watchin' it in town either. More likely t' find a knife stickin' in it come mornin' if I stay."
"Don't say that!" Chris barked, like he was mad at Vin for suggesting such a thing. Or maybe like he was afraid, considering how the color drained from his face to match the pale, white undershirt he was wearing.
Vin wanted to go to him; to wrap his arms around the hard muscles beneath the soft cotton and whisper in his ear that it would all be alright. They just had to weather it out, work their way around it.
But Chris had paced to the fireplace, his slender body a silhouette in the flickering light of the flames. He reached for the whiskey on the mantle, tipping the bottle towards Vin in question.
"No," Vin answered, "had enough." His was stomach still rolling.
Chris poured himself a drink, took a decent swallow, and turned towards Vin. The light was bad, but he knew by the way Larabee pulled his hand through his hair and turned his face to the floor that he had something to say that Vin didn't want to hear.
"I figure if we . . . keep our distance from each other, it'll blow over," Chris said cautiously.
He pulled his head up then, but Vin still couldn't see what his eyes hid in the shadows.
When he didn't immediately respond, Chris continued, "People like t' talk. They'll find something else, someone else to worry on."
The breath Vin had been holding left him completely as he rasped, "How long?"
I've waited . . .
Ignoring the question, Chris went on, his voice soft and hesitant, "If one of us . . . if one of us was t' court a woman . . ."
"One of us . . .?"
Oh God . . .
Mary. Chris was going to court Mary. Like Ella's post against his back, only ten times worse, the pain of it nearly doubling him over. He pulled in a ragged breath and stumbled for the door. Tears stung his eyes and he was grateful for the darkness.
He heard Chris call out his name behind him, and it was a broken, hollow sound. But it didn't matter that Chris was hurting, too.
He'd made his choice.
+ + + + + + +
I have no choice . . .
The echo of Vin galloping off in the darkness had just died when Chris hit the porch and lost the whiskey. On his knees, puking in the dust, and this was why he couldn't go through with it. It just hurt too damn bad. But better - far better - to watch Vin ride off than to lay him in the ground.
Buck's words raced through his head and surely his old friend was right. He'd betrayed Sarah, though he still hadn't managed to wrap his head around the why or the how. She'd come to him in his dreams all these years - accusing eyes and whispered pleas - and how could he contemplate happiness again? Not his to have; never again.
Mary was a fine looking woman, a good woman any man would be proud to have on his arm. Crazy not to want her, and maybe he was. Maybe Ella had seen to that.
Chris picked himself off the ground and stumbled back inside his cabin. He pulled the bottle from the mantle once again and settled into the rocker by the fire. The flames were dying, hardly more than embers now, but he didn't care enough to do anything about it. He didn't drink, either, just held the bottle in his arms like a shield or a weapon. He might have cried; his face wet from something he couldn't recall.
He might have slept, too, because some time later, the bottle slipped from his hands and fell to the floor with a resounding thud. Didn't break though, being nearly three quarters full; it just rolled across the floor as Chris suddenly sat upright.
It was a mistake . . . a terrible mistake.
I was wrong . . .
Later, he might blame it on a dream, though it wouldn't be true. He simply knew with desperate urgency that he had to find Vin. Had to chase him down and turn it around. Take Tanner in his arms and admit that he was the biggest damn fool ever walked the earth for sending him away. One more day, one more day and they could put Ella behind them, and Four Corners, too, if that's how it had to be.
One more day . . .
It was still dark when he went out, though he had no idea what time of night it was. He lit a torch and saddled his horse and took off in the direction he knew Vin would be. Crazy fool would be taking his patrol, no matter what else was going on around him. Both of them not quite right in the head apparently, and it was no wonder they got on so well. Made for each other, it seemed.
Not even an hour had passed when he saw the glow of torches in the distance. Half dozen riders, maybe more, and his gut clenched up so tight he could hardly breathe. He started to follow after them, knowing their path had crossed Vin's. But after traveling only a short distance, he heard the soft whinny of a horse nearby.
Branches partially obscured the light of the full moon, but the torch did its work and cast a yellow circle around the small clearing where the lone horse stood. Vin's horse, standing watch over a crumpled form on the ground.
No . . . no, please . . .
Stripped of his coat and his boots, his remaining clothing torn and bloody, the man had been beaten until he was unrecognizable. But the long, wavy hair left no doubt of his identity.
A horrible choking sound met Chris's ears as he jumped off his mount and raced to his friend's side. Vin was lying half on his side, his face in the dirt as he struggled to find air. Blood poured from his nose and his mouth, and Chris saw more pooling beneath his arm, but that wouldn't matter if Vin couldn't breathe.
Slipping his arm under his injured friend's shoulder, he raised him up enough to get his head off the ground, but he quickly realized that wasn't the problem. Vin was drowning in his own blood, unable to throw it up or spit it out as it clogged his mouth and his nose. Quickly lowering him back to the ground, Chris turned his friend's bloody face to the side and stuck his fingers in his mouth to sweep out the blood pooled there. A strangled cry confirmed what Chris already suspected - Vin's jaw was broken and probably his nose, too. But after several heart-stopping seconds, Vin gasped and took a breath, and another after that.
Gently cradling the injured man in his arms, Chris pushed the hair from Vin's face and was surprised to see a slice of blue between the swollen lids. Holding that gaze, he whispered, "It's alright now," though the pain and agony in Vin's eyes said otherwise.
He'd felt every torturous moment, Vin had. Was feeling it still, and Chris had nothing to offer to comfort him, save a tender hand in his hair and a soft kiss to one bruised and bloodied brow.
Blood seeping into Chris's hand reminded him that more than Tanner's face had been attacked, and it took only a glance to recognize the problem. They'd put a bullet in Vin's shooting arm - a flesh wound, but enough to keep him down where they wanted him, needed him. Tanner would fight like a wildcat and no doubt had, but with his good arm out of commission and his back weak and bruised, he didn't stand a chance.
Pushing back the voice in his head that said this was his fault, Chris pulled off his bandana to tie around the bullet wound. It was awkward, trying to hold Vin and pull the makeshift bandage tight, but he wasn't letting go.
Never again . . .
Vin made a sound that started like a sigh, but ended in another harsh, wet cough. Fighting for air again, and Chris quickly realized there wasn't time for regrets or amends.
But he couldn't stop himself from thinking 'if only' . . . if only he'd kept Vin at his cabin, taken him to his bed like he'd wanted, like he'd dreamed of night after night. If only he'd taken that risk . . .
But he hadn't, and all he could do now was carry Vin home to Nathan.
Home . . . the word had taken on a new meaning in the last year. But Vin said things weren't good in town, word had gotten out, and as Chris struggled to lift Vin up into the saddle, he wondered if home still existed for them. Would Nathan react like Buck? Would he turn his back on Vin? Would they all turn their backs?
Vin had been more concerned about his safety in town than out on patrol. Why? Who had threatened him? With a sudden, fierce chill, Chris realized that his initial thought - that Ella's men were behind the beating - might be completely off. Maybe Vin was attacked by people he knew. People he'd put his life on the line for time after time. Maybe he was riding Vin straight back into the hands of the men who wanted him dead. A soft moan reminded him that he had no choice. He had to believe that Nathan could help Vin, would help Vin.
"Shh . . . easy now," he soothed as he shifted his hold a bit. It was nearly impossible to find a place to hold onto the injured man without adding to his discomfort.
Vin coughed weakly and his breath hitched as another slow stream of blood flowed from his mouth and slid down his chin. Chris could only pray that his friend wasn't bleeding down deep inside or even Nathan couldn't save him. Two hours on horseback would only aggravate his problems, too, putting him in a damned if he did, damned if he didn't situation. Each step over rugged rock and soil jarred Vin's injuries and forced a low whimper deep in his throat that only Chris could hear. But Vin screaming in agony couldn't have cut deeper.
Bitterness hit swift and hard, and Chris choked out a curse at the unforgiving landscape, and the even more unforgiving time in which they lived. Maybe in the future, people would understand that love was love. Maybe sometime, somewhere, two men could love each other openly, without shame or fear.
If only . . .
The moon lit their way as they slowly traveled towards town, just as it had the night before. Only twenty-four hours had passed since he and Vin had brought Ella in, though it seemed like a lifetime. Vin had tried to speak once, the sound garbled and unintelligible, like he was trying to speak under water. Chris quickly shushed him; held him close and kissed his temple to soothe him, and moments later, Vin grew limp in his arms. It would be harder to carry him dead-weight, but once he determined Tanner was still breathing, he couldn't deny his relief that at least the man wasn't suffering.
The sun was making an appearance low in the east when they hit the edge of town, though a quiet stillness prevailed in the streets. If anyone was up, Chris didn't see or hear them; his entire focus on the two-story building where Nathan resided.
Vin didn't arouse when he pulled him off the horse, and Chris nearly lost his hold as Tanner's boneless body slid toward the dirt. Exhaustion loomed, but he held it at bay - almost there now, help and hope only a flight of stairs away.
And Nathan would not turn them away - he'd hold the healer at gunpoint if he had to.
He scooped Vin into his arms once more as he tackled the steps, vowing then and there to build Nathan a place twice as big with a ground floor entrance. But as he breathlessly hit the landing, he remembered that he'd soon be leaving town if Vin survived . . . or even if, especially if, he didn't.
I can't do this without you . . .
Nathan must have heard them, because he opened the door before Chris even had a chance to knock. Chris didn't miss the initial look of wariness; a distance in the dark brown eyes that had never, ever been there before. But it quickly dissolved when he saw what Chris held in his arms.
"My God! What happened?" Nathan asked as he flung open the door wider and stepped aside.
"They beat him," Chris choked, the words hard and bitter in his throat.
"Who?"
"Don't know."
Chris gingerly laid Vin on the bed while Nathan turned up the wick on the lamp. Gold rays highlighted the mottled skin and bloody wounds covering Vin's still body, and any thoughts of forcing the healer's cooperation were quickly replaced with simple desperation.
Please . . .
"Please help him."
"You don't have t' ask, Chris."
"Don't I?"
Nathan held his gaze and answered unequivocally, "No, you don't."
Leaning over Vin, Nathan winced at the viding bruising and swelling that even dark red blood couldn't hide. "His face . . ." he muttered with a sad shake of his head. "How could anyone do this?"
"I think you know how, Nathan," Chris snapped, anger flaring hot and sudden, even if he wasn't certain Nathan deserved it. "Don't you mean why? Or do you know that, too?"
Nathan's response was slow and measured. "I ain't sure what you've heard, Chris, or what you think you know, but it can't matter right now. If we want to save Vin's life, we've got t' put it aside."
Like a flame denied oxygen, the anger dwindled and died, leaving only remorse and despair in its place. "I'm sorry. It's just . . ."
I can't lose him . . .
"I know," Nathan replied softly before getting back to business. "Now go on and get Josiah. We're gonna need help here."
Chris nodded and started towards the door, but the overpowering need to touch Vin one more time turned him around. Crouching at the side of the bed, he brushed his lips over Vin's cheek and whispered in his ear, "I was wrong. I need you."
Rising to his feet, he left the room without a backward glance. Nathan had seen, probably heard, but Chris didn't care anymore. So long as he helped Vin, he could think whatever the hell he wanted.
They all could. He wasn't pretending anymore, wasn't hiding anymore. After all, what good had it done? He'd tried to play it safe, and Vin ended up hurt anyway. Better to take what they wanted; live whatever time remained for them in the way they longed for. Some things were worth the risk.
I'd give my life . . .
Part Two: The World We Know
Vin was a mess. If it weren't for the long hair and the way Chris held onto the injured man so tightly, so desperately, Nathan wouldn't have known it was his friend.His friend . . . a man who had never so much as said a cross word to him. Who'd given him unquestioned loyalty - saved his life even - and asked for nothing in return.
And yet, Nathan couldn't quite get past his unease over Ella's words. No, that wasn't accurate. It wasn't unease, it was disdain and disgust.
It was also true. He knew it the moment he saw Chris at his door. The relationship between the two men had far surpassed brotherhood. And he wished it didn't bother him; wished he could accept it like Josiah had, his words - and Vin's - resounding in his ears with almost painful clarity.
But it wasn't as easy as that. Even when he witnessed Chris's tender good-bye to Vin, Nathan couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea that his two friends had crossed the boundaries to a physical relationship. It wasn't right, wasn't natural, and wasn't meant to be.
Still, he'd never turn his back on either man. He owed them too much, and no matter what they did together, they were still good men.
And one of them was in bad shape.
Nathan threw open the curtains, allowing the early morning sun to shed more light on his patient. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped the light of day would somehow diminish Vin's injuries, turn the bruises into mere shadows. But instead, it only became more apparent that Vin had paid dearly for making the mistake of loving Chris Larabee.
Love.
He hadn't really thought of it that way before, all those weeks when Vin took care of Chris. The two men had always been close, and it seemed right that it would be Vin looking out for Chris - making sure the damn fool didn't get himself killed while he dealt with his anger and grief.
But he should've realized there was more to it. Looking back, it was obvious that Vin was in deep and not able to climb back out even if he wanted to. Not his fault and not Chris's either. Probably took them both by surprise.
A strangled cough from the man in the bed reminded him this wasn't the time to sort out Vin's feelings - or his own. Slipping his arm behind Vin's shoulder, Nathan pulled him upright and soothed, "That's right. Let it out. It's alright."
Blood filled Vin's mouth as he gagged and struggled to clear his airway. But with his jaw obviously broken, he couldn't manage it. And like a knife suddenly shoved in his gut, Nathan realized the painful truth: this wasn't about teaching Vin a lesson - the bastards had meant to kill him. He would have choked to death, drowned in his own blood, if Chris hadn't found him when he did.
It might have been Ella's men, and that would be easier to bear, though not for Chris. But Nathan had heard the talk in town, and maybe Ella had nothing to do with this. Maybe their own people had done it. Tried to kill Vin because he was not like them . . . because he was different . . . like a black man in a white world. The very thought of such intolerance made him sick, but what really nauseated him was the distinct possibility that he was no better than they were.
His stomach rolling, Nathan took a deep breath as he turned Vin's face to the side and pried open his mouth enough to let the blood escape. Vin whimpered pitifully and one blue eye opened to reveal pain and panic as he sought air. A powerful spasm gripped him as more blood filled his mouth and stained the sheets, and Nathan fought to remain calm. All the blood Vin likely swallowed and inhaled from the facial injuries would have to come back up. It didn't mean his friend had internal injuries, Nathan assured himself, because if he did, there would be nothing anyone could do to save him.
As it was, he wasn't sure where to begin. Keeping Vin from choking to death was the priority, but a quick inventory told him there was more to worry about, starting with the hole in Tanner's arm. It wasn't life threatening, but it had bled a lot, judging by the large red stain on what remained of Vin's shirt. It looked like they'd literally torn his clothes off him, and how much hate did it take to attack a man so savagely?
With a sad shake of his head, Nathan recalled exactly how much; the scars on his own back bore witness to his personal experience. Violence in the name of love or pride or justice - that was what truly wasn't right or natural or meant to be. But that was the way of the world, and if Vin survived, this was only the beginning of a long, hard road for him and Chris both.
Nathan vowed then and there to walk that road with them. Maybe he didn't understand their relationship, maybe he never would. But he understood prejudice; he understood good men suffering for the wrong reasons. He'd lived it.
+ + + + + + +
There were times when it was just plain hell getting old, and this was one of them. Ten years ago, or maybe even five, Josiah could have stayed up all night and hardly felt it the next day. But that was no longer the case, he begrudgingly noted with a groan as he pulled himself out of bed. After spending a restless night struggling with his thoughts, he ached everywhere, though his heart weighed heaviest. Burdened by his friends' problems - and even more troubled by their attitudes - he'd gotten up feeling more exhausted than when he'd gone to bed.
He wasn't sure how it had gotten out of hand, but it had. And he should have seen it coming. He'd known for some time how Vin felt about Chris. Seen it in the young man's eyes probably long before Vin even realized it himself. He'd contemplated talking to him about it; making sure he understood that even if Chris returned his feelings - and Josiah suspected he did - he wasn't likely to act on them. Maybe in another time and place . . . another world.
It wasn't his business, though, and Vin was a very private man. Tanner would more likely shoot him than give up his secret.
Except it wasn't a secret anymore. Josiah was there at the jail when Ella started in. Mrs. Potter had brought her a clean dress, at Nathan's request, and Mary had come by to talk with Chris. Ella began with small talk, trying to sway the obviously suspicious women to her side. When she saw she was getting nowhere, she cut to the chase and told them their peacekeepers were "not as they appeared to be." She went on to relate that she'd witnessed Chris and Vin "engaged in immoral acts" with each other in a cave.
Highly offended, JD had immediately called her a liar and jumped to his partners' defense. But Ella ignored the kid and went on to describe, in rather graphic detail, what she had supposedly seen while the two men thought she was unconscious.
Josiah had done his best to shut her up - short of gagging her - but it was too late. The damage had been done, the seed planted. Mrs. Potter turned white and Mary turned red, and they both left the jail in a huff, Mary promising to return later to speak with Chris.
JD kept on about how crazy the woman was, and it only then that Josiah realized Buck hadn't spoken a word. Buck always wore his emotions on his sleeve, so it was apparent that he was pissed off - and Josiah was pretty certain it wasn't at Ella. He opted to leave that discussion for later, though, going off in search of Chris and Vin instead.
He didn't believe it. Even if his two friends had moved into a new phase of their relationship, they wouldn't be stupid enough to show it in front of Ella. And he wasn't convinced they'd crossed that bridge to begin with.
At least, not until he knocked on Vin's door. When Vin answered, his hair was mussed and his lips were swollen . . . and Chris was nowhere to be found. Put Tanner in a natural environment and he could blend in with the trees, but he never could hide behind that blush. Chris was with him - and they were sharing more than a drink.
Well, alright then. If that's how it was, Josiah could only wish them well. He couldn't think of two people more deserving of happiness, and if they'd found it together, that was double the pleasure. The only problem was keeping it from the town and - apparently -their friends.
He'd yet to get to the bottom of Buck's anger, and he'd expected Ezra to act like an ass, but Nathan was a true disappointment. How could they expect the people in town to react if they were divided themselves? If Nathan Jackson, the most compassionate man Josiah had ever known, couldn't accept this relationship, then Chris and Vin were truly doomed.
He didn't realize how prophetic his thoughts were until Chris showed up at the church. Josiah had just left his room and entered the sanctuary when Larabee threw open the doors like the hounds of hell were after him. Even in his customary black duster and pants, Josiah could see that blood stained his clothing.
"Nathan needs you at the clinic, Josiah. Hurry!" he shouted, before taking off again.
Chris had stood in his doorway for maybe ten seconds, but it was long enough for Josiah to know that something terrible had happened to Vin.
He chased after Chris, huffing and puffing as he sprinted through the streets and up the stairs, and he decided right then he was building Nathan a clinic with a ground floor entrance. By the time he made it through the door, Chris was on one side of the blood-stained sheets, Nathan on the other, and Vin . . . dear God, was that Vin?
"My God," Josiah gasped in shock. "What happened to him?"
"Somebody wanted him dead," Nathan offered grimly, his eyes darting across the bed at Chris - making sure the blond understood that this wasn't about scaring Vin off or setting him straight.
"There was a group of them. Maybe eight or more. I saw their torches," Chris stated numbly, his entire focus on his injured friend.
No, not friend . . . lover.
"Ella?" Josiah asked, and he saw Chris pull back as if he'd been struck.
But he turned to face Josiah when he said, "We haven't seen a sign that any of her men followed us, but even if they had, how would they know where Vin was?" He added bitterly, "Seems Vin was more concerned about people here."
Chris had a valid - and awful - point. Everyone in town knew the route Vin routinely took when he was on patrol.
"Don't matter right now," Nathan cut in tersely. "Ain't much I can do for his nose, but I've got to stitch up his lips and set that jaw before I can see to the rest of him. Blood keeps chokin' him."
Josiah grimaced. He knew a man once who'd broken his jaw. They'd tied his mouth shut - wired his top teeth to his bottom - for six weeks, and he'd dwindled down to nothing. Vin couldn't afford to live on broth for weeks on end, though not speaking would hardly pose a problem for him.
Except Ella's trial was scheduled for the next day - with Vin an important witness.
And he couldn't write out his testimony, either.
Josiah wasn't sure how many people knew that - he wasn't even sure Chris knew it. But when the time came for Vin to give his statement, the entire town would quickly be let in on another of his secrets: Vin was illiterate.
He was trying hard to change that, though, a fact Josiah had stumbled upon late one night when he found the younger man painstakingly writing the alphabet. Vin had hesitantly confided then that Mary was giving him reading lessons.
Vin Tanner was a smart man and he'd catch on quickly, but with all that had happened in recent months, Josiah doubted he'd had the chance to attain the knowledge he'd need for this situation. Not to mention, he was beaten half to death. Another glance at Tanner's battered body and Josiah quickly remembered that secrets were the least of Vin's problems at the moment.
"Slide in behind him, Chris," Nathan instructed. "Hold him against your chest and try t' keep his head still. Josiah, you hang onto his arms and legs."
From the looks of him, Josiah couldn't imagine Vin would be doing much fighting against them, but he did as he was told.
Nathan had a damp washcloth that he used to wipe the blood off Vin's face, talking reassuringly the entire time, "Just gonna clean y' up a bit, Vin. Don't you worry now."
Vin's face was one massive bruise and one eye was completely swollen shut. He had a laceration over his left brow that stubbornly dripped blood as quickly as Nathan could wipe it away, so the healer decided to stitch that first. Vin moaned softly but hardly flinched when the needle pierced his skin.
Next Nathan tackled the ravaged lips, stitching tears in the top and bottom, inside and out, and Josiah couldn't help but wonder how many scars Vin would carry when all was said and done.
Vin did jerk then, tried to pull his head away, but Chris was right there, whispering softly in his ear as he held him tight. One blue eye opened, Vin stubbornly clinging to awareness as he sought out the man behind the voice.
"He's right behind you, Vin," Nathan soothed. "He's not going anywhere."
The tone of his voice said more than words ever could, and Josiah inadvertently sighed in relief. He'd been trying to find the words to set Nathan straight, but he should have trusted his friend to get their on his own.
The edge in Nathan's voice became decidedly harder, though, when he looked up at Chris and then Josiah and stated, "Got t' set his jaw now. Gonna hurt like hell. And once we think he's done pukin', we'll have t' tie his mouth shut."
"Tie his mouth shut?" Chris asked incredulously. "For how long?"
"Four t' six weeks, at least."
Chris's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he stumbled, "That's crazy . . . barbaric."
"Better he have six weeks of misery than have trouble chewin' the rest of his life if it don't heal up right," Nathan explained patiently.
Chris didn't answer. He just tightened his grip as Nathan went to work.
Vin bucked against them, uttering a pitiful sound deep in his throat as six strong arms locked him in place. The deed was hardly done when he started vomiting again; deep, painful spasms that splattered blood and bile on all three men and saturated the once white sheets.
The creaking of the door to the clinic registered in Josiah's mind, and from the corner of his eye he caught JD as he entered. But the kid turned a ghastly shade of green and immediately backed out.
Now there was another problem - JD. Josiah hadn't quite worked out in his mind how all of this would affect their youngest partner. Honesty was always his choice, but for JD's sake, it would be best if the kid could go on naively believing that Chris and Vin had been maliciously maligned. There was too much to deal with right then to have to worry about JD going off half-cocked. Young Dunne had a good heart, but only the Lord knew what went through the boy's mind most of the time - and what sort of trouble he was likely to get into.
But it was no time to think on that, with Nathan barking orders while he held Vin's jaw in place and tried to clean out his mouth. The spasms finally turned into weak coughing and Vin gasped for air. Tears streamed across his bruised cheeks, identical to the tears that marked the face of the man who held him, the man who loved him.
It was heart wrenching and reaffirming all at once. And maybe he was wrong; maybe it was only too bad that JD wasn't there to see and understand.
+ + + + + + +
As JD lost his breakfast over the railing outside the clinic, he decided there were times when it was just plain hell being young. Surely when he got older, he'd develop a stronger stomach and things like he'd just seen inside Nathan's room wouldn't bother him so much. But God, the sight of Vin and all that blood and . . . stuff. Or at least, he thought it was Vin.
Was that Vin?
He should probably go back inside and check; find out what the hell had happened to him. He'd let his stomach settle first, though, he thought as he plopped down gracelessly on the top step. Pulling his hat down lower to shade his eyes from the sun, he took a deep breath and peered down into the street below. Nothing much going on and thank goodness for that, at least no one had witnessed his weakness - especially Buck.
Buck wasn't acting right. They'd spent the night together at the jail, guarding Ella and taking turns napping, and Buck hadn't said two words to him the entire night. In fact, he'd acted downright irritable and moody. Now Buck had a temper, and he showed it every now and then, but he was pretty much either up or down, mad or glad, sad or happy . . . not cranky and out of sorts and moody.
And he'd hardly reacted at all when Billy slammed into the jail just that morning and said that he'd seen Josiah and a bloody Chris running down the street to Nathan's clinic. Ella had laughed, but Buck ignored her and simply shrugged when JD suggested they go find out what happened.
Didn't make no sense at all, but then, not much did - seemed like they were all acting stupid. After all, there was only one way to play this and that was to deny that Chris and Vin were anything more than friends.
Didn't matter that it wasn't true.
JD had figured it out a long time ago - the way Chris and Vin really were - but hell, there were just some things a man kept to himself. Especially when those things could get your friends killed.
JD wasn't sure who knew the truth and who didn't, but it didn't matter anyway. They all just had to act like it wasn't so; keep on reminding people that Ella was insane (because she really was anyway), and let Chris and Vin alone. Let them ride off together and do whatever it was they did and just keep their mouths shut about it.
Because he knew exactly what kind of things happened to men who loved each other in that way - he'd seen for himself. Doctor Spencer, the man who gave JD and his mother a job, as well as a home, was like that. JD used to saddle the horses for him and his friend, and he couldn't help noticing the way the men looked at each other. JD had never seen the doctor look at his wife like that, and one day, he told his mother so. She shook him like she hardly ever did and made him promise to never say anything like that again.
A few months later, JD and his friends were out riding when they found a dead man. It was Doc Spencer's friend and he was beat so bad, the boys didn't know at first who it was. JD threw up then, too, and had nightmares for months. People shook their heads and whispered things like he got what was coming to him, but all JD remembered was the look on Spencer's face when they told him. The doctor was a good man - he'd taken good care of them - and he didn't deserve to hurt like that.
JD could still picture the bloody face in his mind, just like . . . oh God . . . just like Vin's face! Somebody must have beaten his friend, probably a lot of somebodies because Vin Tanner wouldn't go down easy. Might have been Ella behind it, but it could have been the men from town, too. It seemed like even Buck had a problem with Vin loving Chris.
Gulping in a great breath of air to calm his stomach, JD murmured a quick prayer that he wouldn't puke again and jumped up to go back inside. Vin might be dying in there, and the least he could do for his friend was be with him.
When he opened the door, he was relieved to see that it was a bit calmer; at least nothing horrible was spewing out of Vin's mouth. Josiah was pulling off the gory top sheet and Nathan was bent over the side of the bed, doing something JD preferred not to think about with Vin's arm.
Chris was sitting on the bed, holding on to Vin for dear life. He looked up when JD came in, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to, his eyes said it all, and just like that it was Doc Spencer all over again.
"Anything I can . . . do?" JD stammered, his voice sounding annoyingly childish to his ears.
"Yeah," Nathan answered quickly. "Head down to the river and get a bunch of rye grass."
"Why?"
"Straws. That's gonna be the only way we can get anything into him for a good while."
JD had no idea what Nathan was talking about, but he was glad to have something useful to do.
He ran into Ezra on his way to the livery, and he quickly explained that Vin was hurt and he was on a mission for straws. Ezra quirked a brow, but all he asked was, "Is Chris with him?"
"Of course," JD answered, wondering if Ezra had paid any attention at all to what he'd just been told.
"I see," Ezra replied, but it seemed pretty obvious to JD that he didn't see at all. In fact, it seemed like Ezra was acting about as stupid and stubborn as Buck. Well, he didn't have time to straighten them out right then, but he would when he came back. It seemed silly to him that his older, wiser friends couldn't figure it out for themselves, but he guessed he'd have to sort it out for them. After all, now wasn't the time for bickering and fighting - Chris and Vin needed their friends behind them more than ever.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra tried not to react to JD's alarming news of Vin's injuries. It wasn't fair for the young man to have to deal with the sordid affairs going on around them; better for JD to continue believing that his two heroes were infallible. It would be more convincing when the rest of them lied through their teeth about the situation if young Dunne actually believed the charade.
But he imagined his eyes showed his disgust when JD verified that Chris was in the clinic with Vin. Was the man just stupid? They were all putting their lives on the line to protect their secret, and Chris should respond in kind. Keep his distance from Vin. In fact, now would be the perfect time for him to escort Mrs. Travis to dinner.
Perhaps he should march up to the clinic and tell him that. After all, had he and Vin been more discreet, none of this would have happened in the first place. Apparently Vin had paid the price for their illicit relationship, which was no surprise to anyone. Mrs. Gaines and her insane scheming aside, Tanner would be the obvious choice. Chris Larabee was a respected and feared gunslinger who had tragically lost his family. He could hardly be blamed for a lapse in judgment. Vin, on the other hand, was uncouth, unkempt, and at times, uncivilized. Heaven only knew what sort of . . . practices he'd been subjected to in his mysterious past.
Of course, Vin Tanner was also trustworthy . . . loyal . . . downright noble, when all was said and done.
And he was a good friend; had proven that time and again. At the very least, Ezra should check on his condition.
He was due to relieve Buck at the jail, but he'd only be a moment, he thought as he rapped on the door to announce his entrance. No one responded, and a quick glance inside explained why. Josiah cradled Vin in his arms while Nathan and Chris quickly stripped the bloody mattress cover and replaced it with another. Vin was wrapped in a blanket, but his long legs snaked out from underneath, and Ezra winced at the dark mottling that marred the bare skin.
It wasn't until Josiah gently lay Vin on the freshly made bed that Ezra saw the rest of the damage. Vin's face . . . dear God, that exquisite face. Vin Tanner may not have been well-groomed on most occasions, but nothing could hide the nearly perfect bone structure of that face.
His involuntary gasp caught Chris's attention, and the blond looked away from Vin long enough to meet Ezra's gaze.
It was amazing how things could change in the blink of an eye - or rather, the look in an eye. Chris Larabee's expression spoke of one thing only: devastation. And for the first time, Ezra considered that this had nothing to do with how two men satisfied their carnal desires - nothing at all to do with sex. It was plainly and simply about two people who loved each other. The fact that they were both men seemed laughably miniscule in the grand scheme of things.
Love . . . that elusive, mystical, and highly overrated emotion that Ezra refused to take stock in. Perhaps some further study on the subject was warranted. Perhaps further consideration regarding other matters was required, as well. In the meantime, there were questions to be asked and measures to be taken. Unfortunately, he had no idea where to begin.
"What . . .? How . . .? Should I-"
"You should go back out there and make sure Ella doesn't cause any more trouble," Josiah snapped.
Ezra decided to overlook the rudeness, chalking it up to the thick tension in the small room. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I was on my way to relieve Buck. Perhaps I can coerce the evil Mrs. Gaines into revealing any further plans for retaliation she may have up her sleeve."
Chris swallowed, but it was Nathan who replied, "We don't even know she's behind this. Seems there's some folks in town ain't too happy with the . . . situation."
That was true. Ezra didn't want to believe that anyone in town - their town - would resort to such drastic and dreadful measures against one of their own, but he'd seen it happen before.
And no matter who was responsible for Vin's sorry state, it was Ella who set the wheels in motion.
"I shall do my best to keep matters in hand," he promised, as he took a long, hard look at his injured friend. Such an awful sentence for the alleged crime - a crime that, only hours ago, Ezra could not and would not defend.
He knew now that fear had driven much of his attitude. Fear that the life he'd become accustomed to, comfortable with, would be destroyed. Fear for the life of his friends, and even for himself - and good Lord, Vin was the battered proof that that fear was justified.
But mostly, deep down inside, Ezra was afraid that maybe a part of him was like them.
He'd spent the previous evening wide awake, thinking about the possibility. While he'd never felt the slightest attraction towards another man, other men had certainly been attracted to him. And not undesirable men, either. Handsome, wealthy, well-educated men seemed to sense some kind of perverse kinship with him - aside from the obvious fact that he was all of those things as well.
Throw in the fact that he'd never really been in love with a woman, and he was starting to worry that maybe, possibly, he was that way and just didn't know it.
None of that excused his prior statements outside the livery regarding his two friends, however, and Ezra regretfully realized how badly he'd hurt Vin. Was it too late to make amends?
Approaching the bedside hesitantly, he caught Nathan's eye and raised a brow in question. But Jackson just shook his head and resumed bandaging Vin's arm.
Ezra cleared his throat and mumbled a farewell that no one heard or cared about, and slipped back out into the morning sun.
It wasn't until he stepped into the jailhouse that it occurred to him that Vin would be unable to testify in the coming trial. It probably wouldn't make a difference - surely there would be no question as to Mrs. Gaines' guilt - but Vin's absence would be keenly felt by Chris at such a difficult time.
Buck nodded when Ezra came in; stood and stretched the kinks out of his back and headed for the door without a word.
Ezra hooked his arm and said in low voice, "Mr. Tanner has been grievously assaulted."
It was clear that Buck was already aware of this, and quite angry, too. But unless Ezra was mistaken, his anger was directed at the victim, rather than the crime.
"Yeah, well I suppose that's what happens when y' get careless," Buck stated flatly.
"Buck-" Ezra began, but Wilmington shook off his hand and stepped out the door.
Ezra sighed. It seemed that matters were going from bad to worse.
"Don't worry," Ella's voice rang out from behind the bars. "Chris will come to his senses soon."
It probably wouldn't do any good to inform the mad woman that Chris was one of the few who had exhibited any sense at all of late. No, it would be better, more productive at any rate, to play along.
Pushing aside the disturbing image of Chris' and Vin's shattered faces, Ezra pulled a chair up to the bars of the cell and settled in for a chat with the evil Ella Gaines.
+ + + + + + +
He was being unreasonable. And he knew it.
But damn it, he was sick and tired of dealing with Chris Larabee's screw-ups.
Buck stormed out of the jail and crossed the street, intent on getting a few hours of sleep. After all, he'd spent the entire night keeping an eye on that witch from hell. He should've just put a bullet between her eyes and been done with it.
Talk about screw-ups. How the hell had Larabee gotten mixed up with her in the first place? And not once - but twice. And then when he finally found the murdering bitch, he brought her back alive? What the hell? They could probably blame that on Tanner. Had to be Vin's idea - Chris wouldn't let her live five minutes after what she'd done unless Vin talked him into it.
Or maybe Chris didn't care all that much anymore what she'd done. Maybe Chris cared more about Vin than avenging his family. Maybe he cared more about Vin than anything else.
And during the long night - when he wasn't busy thinking of creative ways to rid the earth of Ella - Buck tried to figure out why that bothered him so much.
Hell, it wasn't like he wasn't used to seeing men having sex with men. His mother was a prostitute, for crying out loud, and he'd seen sex in every size, shape, and configuration imaginable. Nothing shocked him, and nothing really bothered him.
Except when it came to Chris.
Chris was family. And maybe more importantly, Chris's wife and son were family. Buck didn't figure he'd ever get past the grief and guilt over their loss. The only possible way would be if Chris got the chance to start over, to find happiness again. Maybe they could both find peace if that happened.
And for the first time in years, that actually seemed possible when they'd ended up in Four Corners. Buck was certain that God had finally given Chris Larabee a break in the form of Mary Travis, who was not only beautiful, but spirited, too - just the way Chris liked his women. To top it off, she had a son. A built-in, custom-made replacement family for Chris right there and waiting. The man would have to be a damn fool not to see what was right there in front of him.
Well, Chris saw what was in front of him, alright - but it wasn't Mary, it was Vin. Even if the crazy world they lived in condoned that kind of thing, (which it didn't and never would), it could only lead to more heartache for Chris. What the hell did Tanner have to offer a man like Chris?
Now Buck would be the first to admit that Vin was a good man. One of the best he'd ever known, in fact, and he sure couldn't fault the man for much. No, Vin had grit and courage, and he went out of his way to treat people right - even people who didn't deserve it or appreciate it.
And to his credit, Tanner had tried to get past Chris by taking up with that woman from the wagon train. That didn't work out, but even when Ella first came along, Vin had semi-graciously stepped aside.
He should have just stayed that way - to the side. After all, Chris had proven he still wanted a woman just by going off with Ella. All those years spent worrying that his friend was incapable of loving again proved to be unnecessary. Chris obviously still had the desire and capacity to be loyal to one woman. She wasn't Buck's choice, but that didn't seem to be relevant (to Chris anyway) at the time.
Of course, that ended up in one sorry disaster, and maybe it was no wonder Chris had finally given up on women and turned to Vin. And yeah, it was another screw-up, but who could blame him? No one - least of all Buck.
But Vin should have known better. It was going to end up another disaster. No wait, apparently it already had. Vin was beat up, Chris was no doubt feeling guilty and angry again - and Lord, who would keep him from drinking himself into oblivion and shooting up half the town this time?
One goddamn, screwed up mess . . . and since he wasn't going to sleep anyway, he might just as well go to Nathan's and check out the damage for himself.
He knocked, but no one answered so he went on in, and immediately wished he hadn't. Any doubts as to the seriousness of the situation were quickly dispelled with just one look at Chris. Disaster might not cover it this time around; devastation appeared to be to the more appropriate word.
Only one other time had Buck seen Chris look like that, and dammit, he'd told him; warned him that it wasn't worth the risk. It could only end in heartache; whether Vin lived or died, it wouldn't matter. They could never be safe, never be happy, never find peace.
He couldn't bear to see that look on Chris's face, so he turned his eyes to Vin and . . . goddamn . . .Vin's face . . .
"Guess that pretty face ain't so pretty anymore, huh Chris?" he mumbled before he could stop himself.
It was a dirty, rotten, lowdown thing to say, and he regretted it the second the words left his lips. But he didn't get a chance to apologize before he was pulled up by his jacket and thrown out the door. Josiah's strong voice resounded, "Get out of here, Buck!" as the door slammed behind him.
He stumbled on the landing, losing his balance and slipping to his knees. And since he figured that was pretty much where he belonged - on his knees - he stayed that way for a full five minutes. He might have stayed there longer if Chris hadn't opened the door and damn near tripped over him.
"Damn it, Buck," Chris said as he righted himself, but the curse was half-hearted, his voice strained and rusty, like an old hinge that hadn't been used in awhile.
Buck pulled himself up and moved to sit on the first step, hoping Chris would take the hint and join him. After all these years, surely Larabee knew him well enough to catch on that he was fully aware he'd acted like an ass.
Chris stood over him for several moments, peering out into the street but seeing nothing, from the vacant look in his eyes. But finally he did sit down next to Buck, and without any prompting at all, he simply said, "It's not about what Vin wants. And it's not about sex. I just . . . I just love him."
Buck had known Chris for years. And the man just didn't open his mouth - or his heart - like that unless it counted.
And hell, maybe he was wrong. About Chris and Vin, about Sarah, about all of it. Maybe he just wanted Chris to take the easy way, the safe way, so Buck wouldn't have to feel bad anymore; a final release from the guilt he'd been harboring all those years over the deaths of Sarah and Adam.
But love didn't work that way - it had nothing to do with safety. Love was unplanned and unpredictable . . . and risky. It was also a gift, no matter how difficult the circumstances were.
And damn, he was wrong.
Fortunately, it wasn't too late to set things right. "Have you told him that?"
Chris remained surprisingly straightforward as he replied, "No. In fact, the last conversation I had with Vin, I told him I was going to start courting Mary."
Well, damn. Chris always did have lousy timing.
"It's not too late, Chris. Tell him now - and t' hell with everything, everyone else."
Tossing Buck a sideways glance, Chris stated, "You're changing your tune awful quick."
"I was wrong. Stupid, too. It's just . . . I had my reasons, or thought I did. But like I said, I was wrong. And I'm sorry."
Chris turned to face him full out and asked, "What you said about Sarah . . .?"
"I was wrong about her, too. I reckon she'd just want you t' be happy again - same as me."
"Stop blaming yourself, Buck. Ella's the one who killed my family, not you," Chris replied, reading between the lines.
"Damn right," Buck agreed grimly. "And tomorrow, she's gonna pay for that."
"Tomorrow . . . Vin won't be able . . . he won't be there," Chris muttered absently, like the thought had just occurred to him.
"Might be for the best. He don't need to be hearin' her nasty lies right now."
Chris closed his eyes and sucked in a breath like he was in pain. "Ain't sure what he's hearin' right now."
Buck put his hand on his friend's shoulder and offered, "He'll be fine. Vin's tough. Especially when he's got somethin' t' fight for."
Chris swallowed and nodded, turning to Buck once more when he added, "We'll have to leave when this is over."
He knew that. And maybe that was what had been driving him all along. He didn't want to lose Chris. Didn't want to lose Vin, either, but that's how it would be. It was the only way they could hope to find peace.
Before Buck could respond, Chris rose to his feet and headed for the door to the clinic. But he stopped long enough to add one more comment, "You're not responsible for my happiness, Buck, any more than you are for what happened to Sarah and Adam. Let it go."
"Alright," Buck said easily, as if he really believed what Chris said, as if it was that simple.
But after Chris went back inside the clinic, he remained seated on the steps and let the dust from their conversation settle in his mind. So alright, Chris loved Vin and it was no secret that his love was returned. And in order for his friends to be together, they'd have to leave Four Corners. But the two men had been happy as peacemakers for the small town. Buck figured they'd both found a home and family that they'd been sadly lacking. Hell, who was he kidding? All seven of them had found that.
There had to be a way to work this out, once Ella was in the ground and Vin was healed up. He'd just have to put his mind to it; maybe enlist some help from Ezra and Josiah.
He may not be responsible for Chris Larabee's happiness, but a fiery night three years ago had forever, inextricably linked his own happiness to his friend's. So if there was any way at all that Chris could have Vin - and stay in town - Buck was damn well going to find it.
+ + + + + + +
The patch of golden light from the window slowly diminished until it disappeared completely, leaving only the shadows of dusk in its wake. But still Nathan sat silently, elbows on his knees and head in his hands, as the darkness settled in and brought the long day to a close. He'd have to get up eventually; light the wick and resume the watch, but for now he'd just listen.
Vin sounded like he was trying to breathe through sand. Swollen nose, ravaged mouth, bruised throat, and cracked ribs . . . it was a marvel he could draw any air into his lungs at all. But somehow he did, and if he continued to perform that vital act - and if the bullet wound didn't become infected - and if they could get enough food and drink in him to sustain him for several weeks - and if Nathan hadn't missed any internal injuries - Vin would survive.
Nathan had run that long list of 'ifs' past Chris just hours ago. His intention was to make the man feel better, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Every injury Vin suffered, every blow that bruised fragile flesh, doubled the pain in Chris's eyes. And every 'if' deepened his despair. Nathan couldn't decide who it hurt worse to look at - Chris or Vin, and that was when it finally dawned on him that the two men were already joined as one. No preacher with a few words from a Bible could make their union more honest or true.
He was a damn fool for not seeing it sooner and Josiah should have called him on it from the start. Of course, Josiah was having issues of his own. Nathan was afraid the older man just might break Buck in two earlier in the day when Wilmington stuck his head in and said something stupid about Vin's face. Oddly enough, it was Chris who calmed Josiah before leaving the room to speak with Buck.
Nathan had no idea what was said between the two men, but it did the trick. Buck returned to the room with an apology and an appeal to let him help any way he could. Apparently he'd accepted the truth about their friends - seen the light much as Nathan had.
That thought reminded him that it would soon be too dark in the room for him to find the lamp, let alone light it, so he reluctantly rose and struck up a match. Vin winced slightly at the sudden intrusion of light, but he didn't rouse, and Nathan was grateful. It was hard enough just looking at him; hearing the pitiful sounds he made when he tried to speak was nearly unbearable.
Laudanum would ease the pain, but Vin couldn't coordinate his mouth enough to swallow it. Didn't help that they'd tied his mouth shut with a cloth wrapped under his chin and up around his head. Nathan would have to figure out something more permanent over the next few days, some way to anchor his top teeth to his bottom, but not until he was sure Vin was done vomiting.
It looked like their injured friend had also sprained his ankle, probably from kicking at his assailants after they'd removed his boots. His left wrist was fractured, too, his knuckles scraped and bruised, and the men took a small measure of satisfaction in knowing that Vin had fought back and fought hard. Josiah said something about taking a good look at the men in town - see who was sporting new bruises - but Chris couldn't drum up much interest. Clearly his only concern was seeing Vin through this; later he'd worry about who was responsible.
Chris would be there still, holding Vin, if Josiah and Ezra hadn't convinced him that they needed to talk about the upcoming trial. The justice Larabee had sought was finally at hand, but he was reluctant to leave Vin's side. Nathan wondered if the others caught on to the significance of that. For the first time in years, Chris's present - and future -mattered more to him than his past.
The man himself entered the room just then, briefly glancing at Nathan before turning his attention to Vin. He sighed as he sat down at the bedside and lightly brushed Vin's arm. After several moments, he turned his face towards Nathan and offered, "You can go on, get something to eat."
Nathan shook his head. "No need. Mary brought me up somethin' earlier."
"You should take a break tonight," Chris prodded. "Tomorrow will be . . . I don't think I'll be able to help out with him much."
The blond looked up through the golden haze of the oil lamp, and Nathan saw an invitation - or more like a need - to talk in his eyes.
Pulling up the chair on the opposite side of the bed, Nathan sat down and said again, "No need, Chris. I'm fine. And I'll stay with him tomorrow, too."
Chris nodded and looked down as he absently fingered the bandage on Vin's arm. "He wanted to shoot her," he said softly, "wanted to end it right then and there, but I wouldn't let him. I didn't want a second murder charge hanging over his head." Returning his gaze to Nathan, he added, "That might've been a mistake."
"Seems to me you were just looking out for Vin . . . putting his welfare ahead of your need for justice." Ahead of his hunger for revenge, the force that had driven the man for longer even than Nathan had known him. Yet he'd pushed it aside for Vin.
With a huff, Chris responded, "Looking out for Vin? Hell, I did a damn poor job then."
"This ain't your fault. No matter who done the beatin', Ella started it. You and the boys take care of her tomorrow; I'll take care of Vin."
"I know you will."
Nathan sensed a hesitation in his voice. "But . . .?"
Long moments of silence passed as Chris formed his response, only the ticking of the clock and Vin's labored breathing breaking the stillness. Nathan had almost given up on getting an answer when Chris softly admitted, "But I hurt him. And now more than ever, I need to make that right."
"But you can't until you finish this with Ella," Nathan completed the thought.
"That's right. My family deserves - deserved - nothing less. Tomorrow has to be for them," he explained, the aching sadness in his voice betraying his ambivalence.
Even though Nathan wasn't a vindictive or violent man, his first thought was that if Ella wasn't in a pine box by the end of the day, he'd put her there himself.
"You do what you have to, Chris. Vin wouldn't want it any other way. And he'll be here when you're ready." Nathan would see to it.
"Do you have any idea how many times he's choked on what he wanted, what he needed, for me?" Chris asked, his voice rising. With a shake of his head, he added, "And when he needs me most, I can't be here. It just ain't right."
"No, a lot of things ain't right. But you can only fix one at a time, Chris, and it's gotta begin with Ella."
"Vin said that same thing to me."
No surprise there, that Vin would see it so clearly, and Nathan started to say so. But a hitch in the labored breathing, followed by a soft moan, halted the conversation. Chris leaned in closer and moved his hand to Vin's hair as he whispered something in his ear.
And suddenly Nathan realized that it just might be good if he took that break after all.
"Reckon I will get myself somethin'," he said, rising to his feet and heading for the door. If Chris heard him, he didn't acknowledge it.
As he slipped out into the dark night, Nathan wondered what the next day would bring. Their world had turned on end, and in his heart he knew that justice for Chris's family would no longer be enough to set it right.
But it would be a start.
+ + + + + + +
The sky was overcast when Josiah arose that morning; a fitting sense of gloom coloring the air. He couldn't let it weigh him down, though; he had to remain positive because his friends were depending on him. They'd naturally assumed that he would take on the responsibility of making the case against Ella. He didn't mind, not really, but he had a hunch it wouldn't be as easy as the others believed.
They were sadly lacking in concrete proof, a fact the others tended to overlook or ignore completely. Yes, there was evidence that Ella was involved in the deaths of Chris's wife and son, but whether that was enough to hang the woman, Josiah wasn't sure.
And if she didn't hang, he wasn't certain what Chris - or Buck - would do.
Hell, he wasn't sure what he would do. Anger simmered just below the surface, threatening to break loose with savage intensity. Thank God Buck had come to his senses or he might have taken it out on him - ripped into him until Vin's battered face looked good by comparison.
But Ella was behind it all, and if Judge Travis didn't sentence her to death, Josiah just might have to send her to the grave himself. His mind drifted back to the previous evening when he'd gone to the clinic to check on Vin before retiring for the night. Chris was there, tending to his restless lover, and it was a toss up which cut deeper - Tanner's shattered body or Larabee's shattered face.
Had to be pure hell for Chris; losing his wife and child, only to find out a woman he trusted - maybe even loved at one time - was behind it. And then, when he finally gives his heart again, he's met with anger and fear and violence. Everything coming to a head at once, and if Chris could hold it together, he was a far better man than Josiah.
He was holding it together, though, Josiah could see that the minute he spotted him on the boardwalk. Chris was sitting in his usual spot, nursing a steaming cup of coffee, and he looked up with a nod as Josiah approached. The blond was worn out, bone tired, and his eyes were hollow and black rimmed, but there was no mistaking the stiff set of his jaw. Larabee was ready to see an end to this; ready to attain justice for his family and lay them to rest at last. Then and only then could he consider a future with Vin.
At least he now had friends willing and able to help with that. Even Ezra had come around, which left only JD to worry about. Josiah was hoping to have a word with the young man about it all, but just as he opened his mouth to say good morning to Chris, he heard the stagecoach arrive in the street behind him. It seemed the show would be on the road sooner than he'd thought.
Chris put that thought into words when he said, "Let's get this over with."
Josiah turned as Judge Travis stepped from the carriage and offered a grim smile to both men.
"Chris, Josiah," he greeted with a tip of his hat. "How soon do you want to begin?" he asked, not a man to mince words.
"Sooner the better," Josiah answered.
"Good. Let me get a bite of breakfast, and we'll begin in an hour. I assume all seven of you will be testifying?" Travis asked Chris.
White-faced and tight-lipped - there was no way Chris was going to get the words out. So Josiah replied, "Not Vin. He was attacked the night before last. I don't think he'll be able to help us."
"What? How bad is he? And who is responsible?"
"We don't know for sure, but whoever it was, roughed him up good. Broke his jaw, so he won't be saying much for awhile," Josiah continued.
An angry scowl deepened the lines of the weathered face as the Judge replied, "I'd like to see him. It's possible he could write out his testimony, if that becomes necessary," he added.
"No," Chris spoke quickly - too quickly - so he did know Vin's secret. Fortunately, Vin's injuries made it easy to shift the reasoning. "He can't. They shot his right arm and broke his left. We'll have to do this without him."
"Alright," Travis agreed. "But I'd still like to see him."
Chris nodded stiffly as he set off towards the clinic, but Travis put a hand on his arm to stop him. "You don't need to go with us, Chris. Get yourself cleaned up, have something to eat. This is going to be a hard day for you," he gently reminded him.
The blond's gaze flitted up towards the clinic before turning in question to Josiah.
"He's right, Chris. I'll take him," Josiah offered.
With a barely perceptible nod, Chris turned away, and only Josiah knew how hard that was for him. Chris had to stay focused on the trial, put Vin out of his mind until it was over. That was the best thing, the right thing, and he knew it, but it still had to hurt to keep his distance from Vin.
They quickly made their way to the clinic, and like everyone else, Travis was in shock when he stepped through the door and got a look at the injured man. "My God, why would anyone do this?"
Nathan's gaze hit the floor, a subtle blush covering his dark face, so the Judge turned towards Josiah for his answer. Josiah figured he had two choices: tell him - or let Ella tell her version in a few hours.
"We think Ella might have been behind it."
"Ella? Why? Why would she want to hurt Vin?"Josiah went straight to it. "Because she believes he and Chris are involved in an improper relationship."
"I've had a long journey, Josiah, so perhaps I'm not following you, but are you saying that she had Vin hurt because she is jealous of his relationship with Chris? That she believes they are more than friends?"
"Well, yes. And unfortunately, her accusations were loud and quite public, so it's possible that others were . . . inspired to go after Vin."
"You're not making any sense, Josiah. Surely you're not saying men from town would do this? Surely no one would believe such a preposterous lie? Why, it's ludicrous!"
When neither Josiah nor Nathan immediately spoke up to agree, the Judge narrowed his eyes and verified, "It is ludicrous, isn't it?"
Clearing his throat, Josiah skirted the question by replying, "I don't make a habit of prying into my friends' personal lives. But it's apparent that Chris and Vin are . . . close."
Judge Travis was an intelligent and intuitive man, and Josiah knew the moment the elderly man caught on to what he was not saying.
"I see," Travis said. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before adding, "I had hoped that Chris and Mary would . . ."
"Does it make a difference?" Josiah cut in. "For the trial? Does it really matter at all?"
"No. Unless Vin can somehow link Ella to his attackers, it has nothing to do with what we need to accomplish today."
Josiah blew out the breath he'd been holding. He'd counted on the Judge to be logical and fair; not one to let emotion or prejudice color his thinking, and it appeared he'd been right.
But he didn't anticipate the man's next move. Whatever the Judge's feelings about Chris and Vin, they didn't override his concern or compassion for the injured man. Travis went to the bedside and placed a gentle hand on Vin's shoulder.
Vin turned his head slightly, and Josiah was heartened to see that the swelling had gone down enough for him to open both eyes. Vin fixed his gaze on the Judge and said, "Ella?" The name was thick and slurred but clear enough that his intention could not be missed. Vin was still with them, his mind strong and his spirit determined, and he knew exactly what was on the line that day.
Travis nodded. "I'll see to her. You just worry about getting back on your feet." Pausing a moment, he added, "Do you know who did this to you?"
Something flickered in Vin's eyes, confusion or indecision? But it was gone with a slow shake of his head, and that was something Josiah would have to ponder on later.
"It's alright," Travis soothed. "We'll worry about that later."
He was right, they would, Josiah thought. Chris might be too distracted to care at the moment, but in a day or two, he'd be ready to take on the men that had attacked Vin.
In the meantime, Ella was waiting.