+ + + + + + +
JD swallowed the lump in his throat when six men rode into town and stopped just outside the saloon where the trial would soon begin. He thought they'd gotten off lucky - if Ella still had any men foolish enough to be loyal to her, he figured they'd ridden off by now. After all, what did they think? That they could take on the entire town?
Of course, when he really thought on it, he wasn't all that sure the town was behind them. He'd been standing at the entrance to the saloon, collecting weapons from the men before they went inside, and he could have been wrong, but not everyone was as friendly as usual. After all the seven of them had done for that town, he couldn't believe that a few rumors would set people against them.
Well, it didn't matter anyway. They could handle the troublemakers, even without Vin - or anyone else in town - backing them.
One of said troublemakers, a blond man dressed in black, approached him then, adding his weapon to the pile and giving JD a flippant smirk. "Thanks, Kid," he said, and when he turned his face towards him, JD noted the man's jaw sported an ugly bruise.
"Stop right there!" JD yelled, pulling his gun and taking aim at the man's chest.
"What's the problem?" the stranger asked with a raised brow.
"Your face - how did that happen?"
Clearly amused, the blond answered, "Your friend Tanner has a hard fist."
"You - you did that to Vin?" JD's voice rose and his chest heaved. This guy just stood there and admitted that he'd damn near killed Vin!
"What's going on, JD?" Buck suddenly spoke up behind him.
"He - he said he beat up Vin!"
"Hold on, now. I never said no such thing. I said he hit me. It was a few days ago, when he and Larabee kidnapped Mrs. Gaines."
"But-"
"Never mind, JD," Buck cut in. "Let him pass - and the rest of her sorry bunch, too."
"But-"
"One thing at a time, Kid," Buck advised before going back inside and leaving JD in a huff.
He couldn't believe it. The men who more than likely beat Vin to a pulp were right there, and they were doing nothing. And here he'd thought Buck had come around, that he'd accepted how Chris and Vin were. He'd hardly finished that thought when a hand reached out from the door behind him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and yanked him inside.
"Get the hell in here, JD!" Buck swore in his ear. "It's startin'."
It was starting alright - with Chris front and center - and JD sure hoped Josiah knew what he was doing.
Buck must have had similar thoughts, because he muttered, "Hope Chris is up to this."
He didn't look up to it. His face was white and there were dark rings under his eyes and it seemed like every word that left his mouth caused him physical pain. But he did it, and JD's heart swelled with pride as Chris bravely forged ahead. His voice broke only once - when he described coming home to find his home burned, his family dead. Beside him, JD heard Buck inhale sharply, and damn, this would be hard on Buck, too.
His words were sparse at best, but still Chris managed to explain how he'd tracked down Fowler, and later how Ella had tricked them into coming to her ranch.
His voice faltered again when the Judge asked how he knew that Ella was not telling him the truth. "Vin Tanner . . . he, uh . . . he," Chris stammered and then stopped completely to compose himself. After a few minutes, he swallowed, took a breath, and went on, "He went to Red Fork, talked to the county clerk. Found out that Ella owned Culpepper Mines. Jack Averal was working for her. She'd set the whole thing up."
JD didn't know all that, and he felt kind of guilty for not giving Vin's comings and goings much thought at the time. All he knew was that there had been words between the two men, and that something Vin said had made Chris suspicious enough to start digging deeper.
Chris continued to relay how he'd found his wife's locket in Ella's closet, and her confession that she'd hired Fowler to set the fire. And when Chris produced the letter she'd sent him after they had returned to Four Corners, it seemed like that should have been enough. It should have been over. Take Ella out and string her up, give her men a piece of what they'd given Vin, get Vin back on his feet, and everything could go back to the way it was.
Or maybe not. The men on the jury - men he'd known for almost two years now - didn't look all that convinced. That might have been because Ella was softly crying, shaking her head like Chris was the one who was nuts, and if JD didn't know how wicked she was, he might almost feel sorry for her, too. It was like she cast a spell over men or something, and maybe that explained how she caught Chris twice. Now there was a thought . . .
Well, Buck would set them straight. He took the witness chair next, and where Chris's words were choked off and brittle, Buck's were so soft and restrained that JD had lean forward to hear them. Buck kept his eyes locked on Josiah, too, like if he looked anywhere else he just might break down. And dammit all - after what had happened with Annie, JD never thought he'd feel this way - but if one his bullets accidentally went astray and took out Ella, he wouldn't shed a tear. She didn't hardly qualify as a woman, anyway. Hell, she didn't qualify as a person.
It might have worked this time; the jury seemed to take Buck's words to heart anyway. Probably because Buck wasn't involved in the mess going around about Chris's love life, and wasn't that just the stupidest thing? Like a man's word weighed less because he happened to love another man?
JD guessed it didn't matter, as long as they gave Ella what she deserved. Although sooner or later, they'd have to get that whole thing about Chris and Vin straightened out. JD was even thinking about offering Casey to Vin for awhile - well, not literally of course. But he could take her on a few picnics; throw the hounds off the scent, so to speak. Casey wouldn't mind playing along, she liked Vin, and it wasn't like JD had to worry that Vin would fall in love with her or anything.
Yeah, that sounded like a pretty good plan and he'd have to give it more thought - but just then, Josiah called him to the chair. It was his turn, and even though he didn't know much, he knew what was right and true.
Ella had screwed up all of their lives in one way or another, and it was time for her to pay.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra cringed when Josiah called JD to the stand. Good Lord, what would the young man say? He could only pray that Josiah had coached him well.
He needn't have worried. Where Chris' and Buck's testimonies were stilted and painful to hear, JD's was clear and forthright. Of course, young Dunne could only state what he knew had happened after Ella Gaines entered Chris's life the second time. JD had no actual knowledge of anything that tied her to the murders of Sarah and Adam Larabee.
Ezra hoped the jury wouldn't notice . . . which, considering the imbeciles who made up the majority of the group, was a distinct possibility.
He'd always known, of course, that most - if not all - of the men in their small town lacked decorum and finesse. But until the business with Chris and Vin reared its ugly head, he hadn't realized that intelligence was also in such short supply.
It couldn't be helped at the moment. The damage was done; Chris and Vin's reputations were impugned, and an undercurrent of hostility threatened to sway opinion in Mrs. Gaines' favor if they were not careful. It could well be up to him to assure justice was done and Ella was banished to hell.
Otherwise, Ezra might have to send her there himself. That action would certainly provide a measure of satisfaction, but it was messier than he generally liked to play things. Better to have Ella put to death legally.
While JD continued to speak, Ezra took a look at the crowd, his gaze immediately resting on the six strangers that had entered just moments before the trial began. Ella's hired hands, presumably, and while a few of them looked fairly capable, several appeared to be little more than nervous boys. He shook his head; hopefully they wouldn't be required to kill too many of them. Although, if they were the ones who had so viciously destroyed Vin's face, they deserved an equally painful death.
Ezra peered closer. Only one of the men, a blond who bore a resemblance to Chris, appeared to be marred in any way. Vin had fought back, but either he got his assailants where it didn't show - or Ezra was looking at the wrong bunch. He turned his gaze to the men in the crowd and those comprising the jury. A few appeared anxious, jittery even. Were they fearful of retribution, perhaps? Yes, that was a distinct possibility. But he saw no guilt in those eyes - and certainly no remorse. Perhaps they were convinced they'd done the right thing in attacking a man whose only crime was in loving another.
If only Vin could speak and give them a clue . . .
But Ella had to be dealt with first, and it was Ezra's turn to take the stand.
There was little he could add to what had already been said about their time at Ella's ranch. But Ezra had one ace up his sleeve - he'd spent considerable time the day before conversing with the woman. If anyone needed to convince the jury that she was insane, he was quite sure he was equal to the task.
And fortunately, Josiah gave him carte blanche by asking the open-ended question, "Mr. Standish, what do you have to add to the proceedings?"
"Thank you for asking, Mr. Sanchez," Ezra stated formally. "While I cannot elaborate on what has already been presented, I do believe I can offer insight into the state of mind of the accused."
Here Ezra took a breath for dramatic effect, meanwhile reminding himself to simplify his language for the simpletons of the jury.
"Go on," Josiah prodded, a bit impatiently in Ezra's opinion, but never mind.
"Well, I spent a good deal of time conversing with Mrs. Gaines yesterday, and I can unequivocally state that she is quite troubled."
Judge Travis sighed and simply demanded, "Get to the point."
"She believes Mr. Larabee is in love with her. As her letter to him stated, she believes they are destined to be together and she is willing to take any measures to ensure that it be so."
"We already know all of that, Standish," Judge Travis reminded him testily.
If Ezra didn't know better, he'd think the Judge was not at all impressed with what he had to say. He'd best get to the heart of the matter, then.
"Yes, but she clearly stated to me that this entire trial was nothing but a ruse to make it appear as though Mr. Larabee was doing the proper thing for his family. In her severely disturbed mind, she believes he will rescue her in the end and they will ride off to a future together."
"Mrs. Gaines may believe what she will, and she will certainly have a chance to defend herself before this is through, but may I remind you, Mr. Standish, that this trial is about the deaths of the Larabee family. At any time did she admit her involvement in that heinous crime?"
"Well . . . no, Your Honor," Ezra stammered, "not exactly. But she repeatedly stated that nothing and no one would stand in the way of her relationship with Chris - er, Mr. Larabee. And she referenced Mr. Tanner in that regard."
Now he had their attention, and it was about time. The crowd twittered and the Judge cleared his throated as Josiah finally stepped in and warned, "Ezra . . ."
"She stated Mr. Tanner's attack was merely an example of what would happen to anyone who dared to divert Mr. Larabee's attention from her."
"Did she admit to planning that attack?" Josiah asked with eyes blazing and nostrils flaring - good Lord, he was the spitting image of a bull ready to charge.
"Not exactly," Ezra repeated, holding Josiah's gaze to keep him in check. "But she said he deserved to die for attempting to . . . force Mr. Larabee's affection."
He needed to shake up the jury, add a dramatic flare to the proceedings, and he got what he aimed for as the crowd erupted into snorts of disgust and loud whisperings. But Ezra almost made a critical mistake then - he turned his head and looked at Chris and it threw him off track. He hadn't given much thought to how Chris would react. In fact, the blond's already pale face faded to translucency and he swallowed repeatedly, as if he were going to be ill.
But no matter how hard this was on Chris, Ezra had to deliver the final blow. "It is quite apparent that Mrs. Gaines is a menace, a danger to society." With his eyes settling on Mary Travis, he added, "What unfortunate victim will she next perceive as a threat to her standing as Mrs. Chris Larabee?"
He knew without looking that the Judge had followed his line of sight directly to his daughter-in-law. Good. No matter what the jury decided, surely Travis would see that Ella was taken care of.
His work was done. And he'd done a fine job, if he said so himself.
+ + + + + + +
Buck thought he might have to kill Ezra. What the hell was Standish thinking? Bringing Chris and Vin's relationship out in the open like that? Or course, Ezra hadn't exactly said there was anything between the two men, just that Ella thought there was.
So alright, okay - nothing done that couldn't be undone. And at least Ezra had managed to plant the seed that Mary might be in danger should the witch from hell be set free. Now that was good thinking, Buck had to admit.
And speaking of the witch . . . it was her turn. She'd refused any kind of counsel to help her with her defense, apparently steadfastly sticking with her delusion that Chris would come through for her in the end. But she did take the stand on her own behalf.
With wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks, she launched into an elaborate fantasy about how she'd merely hired Fowler to frighten off Chris's wife, that she'd never intended for him to kill her or his child. "If I knew they were dead - if I wanted Chris so desperately - would I wait three years to go after him?"
Well damn, she was good. And she might have gotten away with it, if she'd stopped there.
But she didn't.
"After the misunderstanding at my ranch, I bought land just north of the border. I tried to start over. But Chris came after me because he knows we're meant to be together."
"Mrs. Gaines," Judge Travis asked gently, "do you understand why you're here?"
"Of course," she answered flatly, "because that half-breed savage poisoned my Chris's mind with lies. He wants Chris for himself. I saw how he put his hands and his-"
"Ella!" Josiah roared at the same moment that Judge Travis demanded, "That will be enough, Mrs. Gaines."
"He's sick, depraved!" she wailed. "He touched my Chris in unholy ways and he deserves to drown in his own blood!" She was on her feet now, screaming obscenities and disjointed ramblings about how Chris belonged to her and how anyone who touched him would die.
Buck's first inclination was to launch across the room and wrap his hands around Ella's throat, but he caught Chris's reaction and he knew his friend had finally lost his grip on self-control. Chris was seething, his eyes dark and cold as Buck had ever seen. And as the rage took hold and the blond shot to his feet, it took Buck and Josiah both to hold him back. Growling and fighting against them, his words nearly as disjointed as hers, "Let me . . . she can't . . . she killed them . . . Vin . . . dear God, let me go!"
Judge Travis pounded his gavel and demanded order in the court as the crowd surged and the soft murmurings grew into a roar. Buck couldn't hear what was said and he didn't care. He was only aware of JD and Ezra struggling with a defiant Ella as they led her out, back to the jail.
It was only after she was gone that Chris took a breath and stopped pulling against them.
"Easy now, Stud," Buck spoke softly in his ear. "It's almost over. You've done good so far, and we're gonna end it right. That's how Sarah would want it - Vin, too."
Pounding his gavel again, the Judge ordered, "We will recess for an hour while the jury convenes." To the side he added, "Take Chris to the saloon and give him a drink . . . or two."
That sounded like a fine plan to Buck, so he took the now disturbingly compliant blond by the elbow and led him to the street. Chris's eyes immediately targeted the clinic, but he didn't say anything.
"He's fine. Nathan would tell us if there was a problem."
"No, he wouldn't," Chris replied.
He was right, of course. Vin could be cold dead, but Nathan wouldn't pass on the news just yet. They could only handle one thing at a time and currently that one thing was Ella. Buck had the sudden image of the witch burning at the stake and he wondered if he could suggest that, if the Judge would go for it.
An hour later, Chris was calmer, although detached might have been a better word, as they filed back into the courthouse.
It took exactly thirty seconds for the jury to state they'd found Ella guilty of conspiracy to commit murder in the deaths of the Larabee family. Buck was relieved that good sense apparently overruled rumor and bigotry after all.
All that remained was the sentencing, and for the first time that day, Buck grinned in anticipation. The moment he and Chris had been waiting for; three long years and finally justice was at hand.
Clearing his throat, the Judge nodded his head and said, "I concur with the jury's verdict. However, I must remind you all that while Mrs. Gaines is guilty of conspiring to commit murder, she did not carry out the act herself."
Uh-oh. There was going to be a fly in the ointment, Buck just knew it. Travis looked damn near guilty himself as he prepared to pronounce the sentence.
"Therefore, I am obligated to sentence her to . . . life in prison."
"What the hell?" Buck exploded, leaping to his feet.
He felt Josiah grasp his arm, heard his pleas for him to keep his head, but it wasn't going to happen.
"She's a damn murderer and you know it! She's insane and she'll find a way out and this hell will never be over for Chris. You can't do this!"
"Buck! Stop it now," Josiah said, holding fast. "Think about Chris."
"I am thinking about Chris!"
Over the din of the noise in the room, Buck heard Ella shouting again, pleading with Chris to take her away. He heard the Judge ask JD to take Ella back to her cell and to begin making arrangements for her transport to the territorial prison. But he didn't hear anything at all from Larabee, and it was that fact, more than Josiah's words, that stilled him.
He sought out his friend, but the man was nowhere to be found, at least, not in the makeshift courtroom. So Buck rushed out the door and caught a glimpse of Chris's backside as he headed inside the clinic.
Alright, so Chris was moving on.
But Buck wasn't; he'd kill Ella himself if that's what it took to end this once and for all.
The crowd disbursed, Ella's men among them, and Buck was only vaguely aware of the Judge and JD somewhere behind him with Ella in tow. Too furious to think clearly, he literally growled as he strapped his gun belt back on and stepped into the street.
Just that quick, shots flew from all directions, and damn, how could he be so stupid? Ella's men were here for a reason, and it wasn't to help them escort her to prison. Buck dove for cover behind a water trough, while Ezra and Josiah took up similar positions on the opposite side of the street. From the corner of his eye, he saw Travis pull Ella back inside the room, while JD pulled out his gun and moved behind a barrel out front. He glanced up to see another gun poke out of the clinic window, and he smiled grimly. They could count on Chris and Nathan to keep watch from above.
In fact, it was the gunfire from the second story window that turned what could have been a bloodbath into a minor occurrence. Chris or Nathan took out two of the shooters in rapid succession, and two more jumped on their horses and road off. Hardly more than kids, from what Buck could see, though they might have gotten a few good licks in Vin, and for that reason alone, he fired off a round in their direction.
But he soon had to turn his attention back to the two men still firing. A bullet hit the trough, about two inches from Buck's head, and he'd had enough. He stood long enough to get a bead on the blond guy with the bruised face, grunting in satisfaction when the bastard went down with a hole in his chest. Damn right, after what he'd more than likely done to Vin.
The remaining man went down with a bullet in his leg, and it was all over. But then the Judge came through the doorway with Ella, and Buck was reminded that it wasn't over at all, not by a long shot.
Of course, it wouldn't take a long shot by any means - a single stray bullet would do.
+ + + + + + +
Judge Travis figured if Ella's men didn't kill him, Larabee's likely would.
But he didn't feel he had much choice in the matter. With Fowler dead, all they really had was a locket and the rambling threats of an obviously insane woman. He could put her away, but he'd be walking a fine line if he sentenced her to hang.
He didn't miss Ezra's blatant implication either, that Mary could be next. It was possible, but unlikely, considering what he'd learned about Chris and Vin. And that was definitely a surprise he could have lived without. He really had hoped that Chris and Mary . . .
Well, at least there were five other eligible men. Of course, JD was too young and Josiah too old. Nathan was a good man, but that would cause more trouble than Chris and Vin. He wouldn't trust Standish as far as he could throw him, and Buck chased anything in a skirt. Still, Wilmington was probably the most viable option.
None of that mattered at the moment, however, especially when shots filled the air. Travis pulled his prisoner back inside the room and held on tight, although she didn't seem inclined to escape. The crazy woman probably still held out hope that Chris would come for her and all would be well.
The battle was furious, but short, and as he exited the doorway, he was relieved to see that none of the bodies lying in the road belonged to anyone he cared about. But he'd just gotten out the words, "Come with me, Mrs. Gaines," when another shot rang out.
Ella jerked against him with a gasp, and Judge Travis knew with a glance that the bullet had pierced her heart.
What he didn't know was where it came from.
He knelt by the stricken woman's side, though her vacant eyes left no doubt that she was dead. Killed instantly - a perfect shot - and if he hadn't known better, he'd have laid money on Tanner.
It was eerily quiet in the streets, the only sounds were footsteps in the dust as a crowd began to gather. He looked up into the faces of two men from town and instructed them to carry the body to the undertaker. Rising to his feet, he noted Josiah, Ezra, Buck, and JD standing nearby, and he approached them with a disgusted sigh. "I want all seven of you - six of you - at the jailhouse in five minutes."
Leave it to Standish to argue. "I'm afraid that's impossible, Judge. We're not leaving Vin alone."
"Mary can stay with him. This shouldn't take that long." When no one moved, he added, "I'm not asking."
Five minutes later and they were all there, although Chris stood with his back to him, face plastered against the window.
Travis cleared his throat and wasted no time getting to the point. "I need to know where that shot came from."
No answer, pretty much as he'd expected.
"I understand how . . . disappointed you all might have been with the sentence, but that doesn't excuse what happened here today."
Not a word by any man in the room.
"We can drag this out all day, boys, if that's what it takes."That garnered some interest. Chris turned abruptly from the window and stated, "It came from my gun."
Nathan's gasp of surprise pretty much shot his confession out the window, though. Jackson was in the clinic with him, and he'd know if Chris had taken that last shot.
"No, Sir, that's not true," Buck countered. "I shot her. Chris was too far away to make that shot."
"Sorry, Buck, but you're wrong," JD cut in. "It was me."
"Actually Gentlemen, I believe if you check the caliber of the bullet, you'll find it came from my revolver," Ezra added.
Not to be outdone, Josiah threw his hat in the ring. "Nice try, brothers, but I was directly across the street from her and that was a straight hit through the heart."
Travis shook his head and collapsed on the chair. He'd had a long journey and a trying day. First he found out Vin had been attacked, (and then he found out why). The trial was difficult, the sentencing impossible, and of course it would end in gunplay and violence. And to top it off, he now had five men claiming responsibility for one bullet.
Blowing out a long breath, he shook his head one more time and stated, "Well, I suppose it could have been a stray bullet that hit her. Right, Gentlemen?"
Five heads nodded in agreement, while the sixth took off through the door without a word. Back to the clinic, no doubt, to sit with his . . . friend.
And really, when all was said and done, Judge Travis couldn't feel too badly about how it had ended. Ezra was right - Ella Gaines was threat to society, as well as to Chris and Vin.
But then, unless the world had changed without his notice, society was a threat to Chris and Vin as well. He had a feeling that one battle had ended, but another had just begun for the two men.
Part Three: Breathing
It's over . . .It wasn't at all like he'd thought. He'd watched it happen from the second story window of the clinic; bright red exploding over the pale blue of Ella's dress as she went down for the last time. And he'd expected something more to happen inside . . . some great knot to unravel, a weight to be lifted, an overwhelming sense of completeness and relief.
But Chris only felt empty and tired.
He didn't know who had taken the shot, but he figured on Buck. Any one of the others might have - would have if he'd so much as hinted that he wanted them to. But Buck had the most invested, the most to lose if Ella continued to walk the earth - if only in his mind.
It didn't matter anyway, and he was grateful to Travis for letting it go.
He returned to the clinic after the meeting with the Judge to find Mary staring out the window. She turned when he entered, her face softer now, compassion overriding hurt feelings and whatever else she thought about him and Vin. She was a good woman, and she deserved so much more than he could ever have given her.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her blue eyes dark with genuine concern.
Chris responded with a short nod before turning his gaze towards the bed.
"He's restless," Mary quickly offered. "He heard the shots, and I don't think he quite believes me that none of his friends were injured."
He nodded again, and as Mary moved towards the door, he said simply, "Thank you, Mary." His voice came out strangely hollow, but he knew by the tears in her eyes that she understood. He was grateful for so much more than just her looking after Vin for those few moments.
By the time he reached the bedside, Vin was attempting to push himself up on his elbows, though he didn't get far. Chris wordlessly fluffed the pillows behind him so he could sit up a bit more and eased him back down. The mid-afternoon sun caught Vin square in the eye, and it confused Chris for a moment - surely it was later in the day. Maybe not, apparently not, though he had the overpowering urge to pull the curtains anyway - to climb into bed with Vin and sleep.
He settled for closing the curtains enough to block out the bright rays, and by the time he turned back, Vin was looking at him like he was coming out of that bed again if Chris didn't spill it and quick.
"It's over," Chris offered simply. "Ella's dead. Everyone else is fine, with the exception of her hired hands."
Vin held his gaze for several moments, searching for the truth. He must have found what he was looking for because he visibly relaxed and closed his eyes with a sigh.
Chris collapsed in the bedside chair, noticing with a sort of detached wonder that his hands were shaking. "God, I need a drink," he mumbled then, more to himself than to Vin.
But Vin answered him, "No, you don't."
They were the first real words Chris had heard him speak since the assault, and in spite of Tanner's injuries, they were direct and crystal clear.
It made him laugh for some reason, a choked off snort that soon turned into a deep chuckle that rattled his chest; shook him so hard, in fact, that before he knew it, tears were rolling down his cheeks. And it really wasn't until he felt Vin's hand in his hair, caressing, soothing, that he realized he wasn't laughing at all.
He'd never cried for his family, the anger and need to find justice overpowering the grief. Besides, he feared that if he ever did allow the tears to fall, they might never stop.
But he was crying now; great, wrenching sobs wracking his body as he laid his head on the bed next to Vin. He felt the splint from Vin's broken wrist catch in his hair as Tanner continued to stroke him, and what kind of a selfish bastard was he anyway? Vin could hardly move but it didn't stop him from taking comfort from him.
No choice there, really, because it would have taken nothing less than a bullet to stop him now that he'd started - and this was what he'd avoided for three years. In fact, he'd shed more tears in the last three days than he had in his entire life, and maybe Vin wasn't good for him after all.
Except that he was, because gradually the sobs lessened as Vin's soft voice murmured through torn lips and clenched teeth, "Easy now."
It came upon him like a damn bursting - that feeling he'd yearned for for so very long - guilt, anger, and grief draining from him in a great, rushing wave.
Sarah and Adam at peace . . .
It's over . . .
There were no words to express his thoughts and feelings, no sentiments adequate to measure the worth of that moment. So he lay still, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of Vin's fingers in his hair.
He sensed rather than felt Vin attempt to shift his body to the side so that Chris could lay down. A muffled groan brought Chris's head up, and with infinite care and gentleness, he accomplished the task for Vin, making just enough room to lay next to him on the bed.
And as he lowered his body next to Vin's, he knew that he would be free of the nightmares that had plagued him for three long years. With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes and he slept.
+ + + + + + +
It's not over . . .
Vin tried not to move. Partly so he wouldn't wake Chris, but mostly because it just hurt too damn bad. He could hardly bare to moan - even the vibration of his tongue in his mouth caused his jaw to throb.
He wished he could sleep, had wished it for days but he couldn't seem to swallow the pain or turn off his mind long enough to truly give in. Even with the laudanum Nathan had painstakingly dribbled between his teeth, he'd only managed to rest a good hour.
At least Chris was resting now, and Lord, he deserved it. Vin couldn't even imagine what he'd been through in the past few days. Getting himself beat up had only added to Chris's burdens, but at least Ella was taken care of. There had to be more to that story; there hadn't been time to hang her so someone must have taken the quick route and put a bullet in her. That was alright so long as Chris got what he needed, and it seemed he did.
He'd let loose anyway, and hopefully laid his family to rest at last. Made Vin's chest ache even more to see and hear Chris cry like that, but it was necessary and Vin was glad it happened like it did. No one else would ever know that Larabee had finally broken down and let the grief out.
Only Nathan had poked his head in, shortly after Chris had fallen asleep next to him. "You alright?" he whispered, and Vin nodded his reply.
He wasn't exactly alright, but he wasn't about to tell Nathan that. He ached everywhere, inside and out, and he was so damn thirsty he could hardly stand it. Still, the feel of Chris beside him, his head resting on his shoulder, his hair between his fingertips, made it all worth it.
Worth the risk . . .
There were eight or nine of them that night; he'd lost count. Some of them were Ella's men, but some of them weren't. He figured one of Ella's hired hands had ridden into town, nosed around to the right - make that the wrong - people. They'd joined forces then, taking him down with a shot out of nowhere. And what might have started out to be a lesson quickly turned into something vicious and out of control.
They had their faces covered, but he knew the voices of three of the men from town. Men he'd sat across a poker table with; men he'd faced down bullets for. And where Ella's men beat him for a price, the others hit him with the far crueler blows of hatred, betrayal, and intolerance.
He knew he was dying; could feel the blood clogging his airway, choking the life out of him, and there was nothing he could do. His only thought was of Chris. In spite of their last conversation, he knew Chris didn't want to be with Mary, knew how hard it would hit him when he found him dead. So much they could have had together, him and Chris, but it was damn foolish to get his hopes up like that. He knew better.
But Chris got to him in time, and Vin figured there must be a God after all because at least he was going to die in Chris's arms. A man like him couldn't ask for much more.
I take what I can get . . .
He still hadn't quite wrapped his mind around the fact that he hadn't died. Not yet, anyway, though it wouldn't surprise him all that much if he managed it yet. Aches down deep inside made it hard to breathe and he didn't figure on ever eating real food again. Nathan said he was going to wire his mouth shut - and if Vin could speak a little clearer, he'd tell the man exactly where he could put that idea.
Chris shifted a bit then, letting out a soft sigh as he did so, and Vin was quickly reminded why he was in the shape he was in.
It will never be over . . .
People would never accept the two of them together. Hell, the last he heard, their own friends were having a problem with it. Ella might be behind them, but the rumors and nasty allegations would continue. Cold fear gripped his heart when he realized that the next time, it could be Chris vomiting up blood.
Could be Chris dying at the hands of men he thought he could trust.
I can't let that happen . . .
Chris was right all along. On that quiet night when he and Larabee spoke of the dangers they faced every day, Chris said that he knew that Vin could die, but he couldn't be the reason. And suddenly Vin understood exactly what he meant. He'd give his life for Chris, but he couldn't ask - couldn't bear for Chris to do the same for him.
And Larabee was right about something else, too - he would be better off with Mary. He'd even have a son. Hell, Chris and Mary could have a whole house full of sons.
And what a selfish bastard he'd been for not seeing that sooner.
Better for him to walk away . . .
Chris could never know why, otherwise he'd try to stop him, and Vin knew he was too weak to fight that battle. Chris would never know who beat him, either - none of his friends would. Larabee was likely to shoot first and ask questions later and that would bring on more trouble than they already had. Besides, those men had families who didn't deserve to suffer because of him and Chris.
No, the best thing he could do was to leave town and never look back. Leave Chris . . .
A sudden pain coursed through him, gripped his back and shot straight through his chest, stealing his breath as he gasped for air. Like a chain reaction, his jaw throbbed with a vengeance, his head ached, and his stomach rebelled.
Chris abruptly sat up beside him with a befuddled, "Vin?" But one quick glance and he was off the bed, hollering for Nathan, who must have been right outside the door since soon both men were hovering.
Tears streamed from Vin's eyes as he heaved, and every muscle and bone in his body seized up in agony. Too broken this time - he really was going to die.
And maybe that was the best plan of all.
With or without you . . .
After all, if he couldn't live with Chris, there wasn't much point in living at all.
+ + + + + + +
Chris had let himself forget how bad off Vin really was. Gotten so carried away in the relief of Ella being dead and gone that he'd pushed Vin's condition to the back of his mind. But a sharp gasp of pain woke him from his slumber, and as Vin suffered from painful heaving once more, Chris was reminded that his friend still had an uphill battle ahead of him.
Vin would recover, though - Nathan said so. There was a long string of 'ifs' connected to his assurance, but even so, there was just no way in hell that Vin would up and die on him now. Not when they were so close to getting what they wanted.
Maybe Vin needed to be reminded of that, though. After all, Chris hadn't exactly come out in words and told him that he'd been a fool that fateful night when he'd driven Vin away. He didn't think he had to say it - had hoped his fumbled apology along with his actions would be enough to drive the message home.
I'm not afraid anymore . . .
He was walking through this life with Vin at his side and no one was going to stop him.
But something in Tanner's eyes warned him that maybe it wasn't that simple for Vin anymore. Maybe the tables had turned and now Vin wasn't sure. And who the hell could blame him for that? How many fists, how many blows - how much hatred - had it taken to finally break him?
No, not broken - bruised and battered, but never broken. Vin was stronger and more tenacious than that. He was probably just tired and in pain - God knew, he looked awful. Blue-black bruising still covered his nose and extended up around both eyes, as well as marring the entire left side of his face. Black stitches cut across his brow and forehead, and left a jagged trail along his lips and chin. Just like in his dream, Vin's face - Vin's beautiful face - was battered beyond recognition. She'd made it happen, just like she promised.
It didn't matter to Chris. He loved to look at Vin, but as long as he survived, Chris didn't care if his nose was crooked and he had scars covering every inch of his face. As long as he could hold him in his arms, kiss his lips, and look into those clear, blue eyes - as long as he had Vin at his back and by his side - nothing else mattered.
Those amazing eyes were definitely troubled now, though. Vin briefly met his gaze before quickly turning away, but it was long enough for Chris to know that something was wrong, something more than his physical condition was bothering him. Stooping low, he leaned in close and asked, "What is it, Vin? What's on your mind?"
"No, Chris, not now," Nathan strongly cautioned. "I don't want him tryin' t' talk 'til I make sure his jaw is still in place."
Nathan had loosened the binding around Vin's jaw when he started vomiting, and he quickly moved to replace it, but Vin jerked his head away with a grunt.
"Now Vin, I know this ain't comfortable but it's gotta be this way til that jaw heals," Nathan responded, the subject clearly not open for discussion.
Panting harshly, Vin turned desperate eyes towards Chris.
"Just give him a minute to catch his breath, Nathan," Chris pleaded on Vin's behalf.
Nathan shook his head and sighed. "A minute won't make much of a difference, Chris. He's hurtin'. And he's gonna be hurtin' for a long time yet. Bastards beat him up good."
"But-"
"You think I like doin' this to him?" Nathan continued. "You think I wanna starve him for the next six weeks? Ain't no way t' make this easy, and I swear if I ever get my hands on the men who done this I'll kill 'em myself."
"Nathan-"
"What the hell is wrong with people anyway? Why they gotta act like animals? It's never enough, is it? Killin' him wasn't good enough, they had t' make him suffer first. My God, look at his face!"
"Nathan!" Chris stood up and gripped the healer's arm. "That's enough," he warned. "Vin don't need this right now."
Nathan abruptly stopped his tirade, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry, Vin," he said softly. "Sorry to you, Chris. I was wrong about . . . about everything. Truth is, I ain't sure I'm any better than the men that did this."
Nathan was carrying around a boat load of guilt for no reason, as far as Chris was concerned. It didn't matter what the man's initials feelings were, he was there now and Vin wouldn't have made it without him.
"That's not true, Nathan. Vin and I know where you stand, what kind of man you are . . . what kind of friend you are."
But Nathan just shook his head and looked away.
Chris turned back to Vin and asked, "You ready now, Vin?"
Resignation colored the blue eyes as Vin swallowed and leaned back into the pillows.
Exchanging a glance with Chris, Nathan sighed and resumed his place at the bedside. "I'll be gentle as I can, Vin," he promised, "and then I'm gonna give you somethin' for the pain, alright?"
Vin nodded slightly and closed his eyes while Nathan tied his face back together. He kept them closed, even when Nathan took a straw and dripped laudanum through his teeth. The only sound he made was a soft moan as he worked to swallow it, and a mumbled word that might have been "Thirsty."
"Yeah, I know," Nathan responded, as he slowly dribbled water between the damaged lips. "Just gonna give you a little at a time, though - make sure it stays down."
Vin didn't reply, but his breathing gradually became less labored, and Chris noted with relief that the lines around his eyes evened out a bit.
"Think he might sleep now," Nathan offered hopefully as he stood and faced him. Chris saw his own worry and anger reflected in the dark brown eyes before him.
"If Ella's men weren't already dead . . ." Chris growled, thinking of the misery Vin faced in the weeks ahead.
"They're not," Nathan replied bluntly, clearly surprised that Chris didn't know that.
"What?"
"Two of 'em made it out of town during the shoot-out. But one's in the jail with a hole in his leg. He'll live, though."
"No, he won't," Chris promised as he marched for the door.
He'd been too distracted with Ella - so intent on seeing justice for his family that he'd nearly forgotten about justice for Vin. No wonder Tanner was having doubts about their future together.
He'd only made it out the door and partway down the stairs when Josiah practically ran into him as he headed up.
"Chris!" Josiah exclaimed as he gripped the blond by the arm. "Hold on a second. I need to talk to you."
The sun was going down just behind the preacher's shoulder, but it was light enough for Chris to see the expression on the older man's face. Josiah had something important to tell him - and he wasn't going to like it.
"Go on then," Chris grilled impatiently.
Josiah glanced around before indicating with nod that they should move up to the landing for the conversation.
"We've got one of her men, Chris."
"Yeah. So I've heard. I'm on my way to speak with him now."
Josiah shook his head. "Don't bother. I can tell you what he knows, and it's not much."
Chris refrained from reminding Josiah that he'd do as he damn well pleased only because it seemed that Sanchez had something worth sharing - if he'd just get around to it.
"Josiah?"
"He says one of Ella's men came into town that evening when Vin was attacked and asked a few questions about where he might find Vin. Says he rode back to their camp later and . . ." Josiah hesitated.
"And what?"
"And he had three men from town with him."
Chris felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. So it wasn't just Ella's men . . .
"Who were they?"
"He doesn't know. They had hoods over their faces."
"Who were they?" Chris repeated, his voice rising.
Josiah shook his head. "I told you, Chris, he doesn't know."
"He knows! And he will tell me."
"Chris - you're not thinking clear. How would he know? Even if he saw them, he wouldn't know their names. And in the night, with all the commotion, with the way it happened-"
"What do you mean, the way it happened?"
With a deep sigh, Josiah reluctantly answered him. "It started out that they were going to knock Vin around a bit - scare him off. But it quickly got out of control. The guy in the jail says he and a few others backed off, but the rest of them took turns holding Vin down and . . ." Josiah swallowed and looked away. But he turned back to Chris and added, "He says the men from town did the most damage - says they meant to kill Vin."
Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and swallowed the bile that had risen up in his throat. It was easier to believe it had been only Ella's men behind this. But that wasn't the case; Vin had been betrayed and nearly beaten to death by men they walked beside every day, men who were walking the streets outside the clinic even now.
It's not over . . .
"Someone knows," Chris muttered. "Someone in this town knows and I'm going to find out who."
"You're right, Chris," Josiah agreed. "And my hunch is that that 'someone'. . . is Vin."
That stopped him in his tracks.
Of course . . .
Josiah was right - Vin knew all along who'd done this. He just didn't want him to know - probably had some fool idea that he was protecting him. Well, to hell with that.
Nathan glanced up in surprise when Chris stormed back through the clinic door with Josiah at his heels.
"Is he asleep?" Chris asked the healer as he approached the bedside.
"Not yet, but he will be if y' leave him alone."
The implication behind Nathan's words was clear, but this couldn't wait. It had gone on too long as it was.
"Vin? You with me, Pard?" Chris asked, unable to mask the edge in his voice.
He crouched low on his heels and leaned in close as Vin slowly turned muddled eyes towards him. A momentary pang of guilt hit him as he realized that he was disturbing Vin when he was tired, vulnerable, and murky. Might just give him the leg-up he needed, though, catching Tanner when he was off-guard.
"Who did this to you, Vin?"
He took the straight-forward approach, and knew right off that it was all wrong. Vin shrunk back, literally and figuratively, his eyes tightly shut as he turned away. If Tanner knew, he wasn't talking.
"Let it be for now, Chris," Nathan warned.
"It's already been two days," Chris replied with a frustrated huff as he rose to his feet.
"He don't know who did it. You're just gonna upset him pushin' him to remember."
Sparing a glance at Josiah, who remained silent, Chris replied, "He does know."
Nathan shook his head. "That ain't what he told Judge Travis."
"He said that?"
Josiah cleared his throat and cut in, "Not in so many words. He just shook his head when the Judge asked him if he knew who attacked him."
Chris wasn't buying it, and he knew Josiah wasn't either. Vin was deliberately shutting them out. "He knows. He just doesn't want me to know."
"Yeah? Well, then he's even smarter than I thought he was," Nathan scoffed.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Nathan motioned for his friends to step outside. As he closed the door behind him, he lowered his voice and explained, "What's it gonna accomplish if you go after 'em? You think you'll change their minds? You think they'll suddenly agree that two men bein' together is just fine after all? It's not gonna happen - not ever. That's just the way the world is. And chargin' off to pay them back will only lead t' more violence and more hurt, and it won't change a damn thing, Chris."
"Need I remind you, Nathan, that less than an hour ago you were threatening to kill these men yourself?" Chris spat.
"No, you don't need t' remind me. And I'd still like t' make 'em feel every blow that Vin felt. But hopefully I'm a better man than that. Otherwise, I'm no better than they are." Nathan sighed and added regretfully, "Some battles you can't win, Chris, and this is one of them."
"I reckon you know more about battling bigotry than any of us, Nathan," Josiah said with a gentle hand on the black man's shoulder. "And I'm all for turning the other cheek when it's appropriate. But Vin's attack can't go unanswered, otherwise we let the people of this town think that it's alright to beat a man for thinking and feeling differently. Not only that, we haven't done our job. We were hired to protect the people of this town, regardless of their God, their color, or who they choose to love. We let them get away with attacking Vin, and who will be next? That Irish family who settled over in Baker Pass? Or the Quaker family on the outskirts of town?"
"You made your point, Josiah," Nathan grumbled.
"Not quite," Josiah disagreed. He turned to Chris and added, "My point is that we'll figure out who did this, Chris, and we'll make sure they get it in their thick heads that it will never happen again. And how we play out the rest of it is up to you."
Chris raised a puzzled brown, not sure where Josiah was heading. "The rest of it?"
"If you and Vin want to deny it all - go back to how things were before - we'll watch your backs and make sure folks believe exactly what you want them to. You want to stay in town and face up to it, be with Vin any way you like, we'll make sure no one touches either one of you. Or if you want to leave town and start over some place else, well, we'll miss you both like hell. But not a one of us will blame you, and we'll make sure you get where you're going. Your call."
Our call . . .
When Chris didn't immediately answer, Nathan spoke up. "It's a call you ain't gotta make for some time yet, Chris. Vin's not going anywhere for a good while."
Chris nodded and responded with a solemn but heartfelt, "Thank you, both of you," before turning to go back inside.
The wick was low, the room cast in shadows now that darkness had fallen. Vin's breathing was still rough but even as he finally slept. Chris thought about taking his customary spot on the chair at the bedside, but decided to throw a blanket on the floor and lie down instead. The wooden boards were hard on his back, but it felt good to stretch out.
His mind wandered back to those black months when Ella had played havoc with his mind and his soul. How many mornings had he awakened from a drunken stupor to find Vin on the floor beside him? Too many to count, and there were some, no doubt, that he had no memory of.
On impulse, Chris sat up and leaned over to lightly touch Vin's hair. The wavy brown strands turned gold in the light of the oil lamp, and he couldn't resist the urge to rise up on his knees and bring his lips to the soft head. Vin moaned slightly, but Chris easily soothed him back to sleep with a gentle caress on his cheek and soft kiss to his forehead.
He slipped back to the floor then, and in spite of the turmoil that still raged within him, for the moment he was content to simply lie there and listen to Vin breathe.
+ + + + + + +
For days, all they told him was that he couldn't open his mouth to eat or drink or talk. But now, all Vin heard was "drink Vin" and "tell us who did this, Vin". He wished they'd just go away and leave him the hell alone. He'd even told them that, as much as his screwed up, wired up, tangled up mouth would allow. Might not have come out too clear, but he was pretty sure they got the message anyway. Not like they listened.
Vin had never felt so miserable in his life. Now that he was no longer throwing up, he was starving. But Nathan had rigged some kind of contraption to keep his teeth tied together, and all he could manage was broth or some other liquid that was equally unappetizing.
He had a fever, too, which meant Nathan was constantly fussing, sponging, and drizzling water in his mouth. To add insult to injury, he was too sore and too weak to walk to the privy. The sprained ankle didn't help, and apparently he'd managed to break his left wrist as well. At least Chris and Nathan seemed to get some satisfaction out of that. They thought the injuries happened when he fought back, but he couldn't recall it happening that way. The truth was that he was overwhelmingly outnumbered and outweighed, and all he could do was take it.
Pretty much like his current situation - all he could do was take it. Take the incessant throbbing in his face and his foot and every place in between; take the frustration of not being able to take care of himself (not to mention the frustration of not being able to express his frustration); and worst of all, the humiliation of being in that situation to begin with. Bad enough that he was beat up by a gang of cowards - the reason why made it ten times worse.
Not that he was ashamed of loving Chris - he wasn't. But his feelings for Chris were so deep and so close to his heart, that he had trouble acknowledging them even to himself. To know that his most private emotions were the talk of the town was almost unbearable. Let them gossip about his clothes, his beliefs, his past . . . he didn't care. But Chris . . . Chris's place in his heart was like sacred ground, and his eyes burned at just the thought of others intruding there.
Most excruciating of all was being near Chris, day after day, night after night. Larabee had taken to sleeping on the floor next to him, and he rarely left him alone for more than an hour at a time during the day. It was like he was trying to make up for all those months when he'd treated him like dirt or ignored him altogether. Or maybe he just felt guilty that Ella had managed to get back at him on more time.
Or maybe . . . maybe Chris just loved him.
And that was the deepest cut of all. Ironic how the very thing he wanted most - had longed for and waited for - he now couldn't bear to accept.
Because it couldn't work out; there was no way on earth that they could go through with it. No matter how much it hurt, they couldn't be together.
Not worth the risk . . .
Might kill him, in fact, to walk away from Chris, but that's what he'd do.
Unfortunately, as weak as he was, it would be awhile before he'd be walking anywhere. In the meantime, he'd have to endure Larabee's attention, as well as that of the other five peacekeepers.
All of the men stopped by regularly, and only JD acted normal. Vin wasn't sure if that was because JD really didn't care about him and Chris, or if he still didn't believe it. Either way, he was grateful that he didn't have to expend any energy dealing with the kid.
Buck bent over backwards to be supportive, a complete turnaround from his previous behavior, but it felt forced, wrong somehow. Kind of like Nathan, who cared for him like he always had and said all the right things, but seemed uncomfortable and guilt-ridden even as he said them.
Josiah was strong and determined; apparently, making sure him and Chris could be together had become his personal cause. But Vin didn't want anybody fighting his battles for him - especially this one.
On the other hand, Ezra seemed uncharacteristically uncertain, but he was trying hard to be a good friend. So when Standish came in earlier that morning and offered to shave him, Vin didn't have the heart to turn him down. It was raining outside; big, fat drops pelting the roof as dark, gloomy clouds cast deep shadows in the small room. Even though it was mid-morning, Ezra had to light the oil lamp so he could see well enough to avoid giving Vin new scars with the sharp razor. The man had been perched on the side of his bed for a good ten minutes, in fact, rambling on about things in town that Vin couldn't find the will to care about. It was only when Ezra paused and focused intently on his face that he thought he should probably act like he was paying attention.
"The swelling has gone down considerably, and actually, there is only a slight deviation in your nose," Standish commented. "In fact, one would be hard pressed to notice the difference."
Vin swallowed a sigh. Who the hell cared about his nose? He could breathe and smell and that was all that mattered.
"And this laceration on your forehead will hardly be noticeable, since you persist in keeping your hair long and your hat pulled down."
Vin had lots of good reasons for wearing his hair and his hat the way he did, but hiding scars wasn't one of them. Of course, a prissy man like Ezra probably would care about something like that. The man never had a hair out of place - probably shaved twice a day.
"Your lips . . . well, Nathan did a fine job there, too. And really, most of the damage was inside your mouth."
No argument there . . . it felt like a stick of dynamite had blown his mouth apart from the inside out.
"And your chin . . . again, since you prefer not to shave on a regular basis, the scars may hardly be noticeable . . . although, I have never understood that, Vin, I must say. Why not grow a full beard? Or even a mustache like Buck's? What is the point in being half-shaved? Is there something appealing about a scruffy appearance of which I am unaware?"
What the hell was Standish going on about?
"Not that I am being critical. Far be it from me to tell you how to live your life or maintain your person. A full beard might do the trick, however. Yes, I believe it would."Okay, Vin decided he'd suffered enough. He tried to pin Ezra with a glare, but the gambler was apparently too busy examining his face to notice.
Why the hell is everybody so obsessed with my face?
Vin didn't realize that he'd blurted that part out loud - or tried to, at any rate - until Ezra pulled his brows together in a puzzled frown.
"I'm sorry, Vin, I didn't quite catch that."
"He said," Chris suddenly spoke up from just inside the doorway, "Thank you, Ezra, for shaving my face."
Ezra beamed and said, "You are quite welcome, Vin."
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Vin gave the gambler a slight nod and what hopefully passed for a smile.
Chris was still wearing a shit-eating grin when Ezra awkwardly cleared his throat and stated, "I'll leave you two alone now," as he left the room.
Chris slipped off his coat and hat as he approached the bedside, shaking off the rain before hanging the objects over the back of the chair. He raked his fingers through his hair as he sat down; stray droplets of rain water catching in the low light and turning the blond head silver. Vin couldn't take his eyes off him, couldn't forget the feel of the soft strands between his fingers. He was so weak when it came to this man. He should never had let it get this far.
How will I leave you?
"What's the matter?" Chris asked, his light mood vanishing at the somber expression Vin wore. He leaned forward then to rest his hand on Vin's forehead and grimaced at the warmth he felt there.
The fever was building again, Vin knew it, and he was almost relieved that he could blame his sober mood on that. Might keep Chris from digging further for answers he wasn't ready to give.
"Don' . . . worry," Vin slurred, seeing the concern in the hazel eyes.
Chris kept his hand on his forehead for several moments, before gently tracing his forefinger across Vin's nose and cheekbone. "Ezra's right, you know," he said softly. "Your nose, your face, you're still . . ."
His voice trailed off then as he moved his thumb to lightly trace Vin's lips. With a shudder, he continued, "When I first found you, I thought . . . you were choking, and I wasn't sure I could help you. Your face was so . . . you were so . . . broken . . ."
It wasn't fair. Chris had suffered enough. So little Vin could offer or say to erase that memory for his friend, but he had to try. "S'alright now," he soothed, hoping Chris wouldn't catch on that it really wasn't alright at all.
Never be alright again . . .
But of course he did. Chris's voice remained soft and sad when he challenged," Is it? Because I don't want t' lose you, Vin. And something tells me you might have changed your mind."
Vin closed his eyes and swallowed. How could he tell him? How could he hurt him?
I can't . . .
Too weak and too tired . . . and maybe later, when he felt better, he could do what had to be done.
He told himself that all he wanted was to ease Chris's mind, but the truth was that he had to touch him; had to feel his breath on face, his hands in his hair. Vin ignored the soreness in his arm and reached up to pull Chris to him. Lips brushed lightly - a weak imitation of a kiss but enough to elicit a groan from Chris, a sigh from Vin.
Tipping his nose to Vin's, Chris breathed, "God, Vin . . . how did this happen to us?"
The same question had rolled around in Vin's mind a thousand times. How? Why? Was this deepening of their bond a rare, unexpected gift? Or further torment for two men who had already seen more than their fair share? A blessing - or a curse?
Before Vin could begin to formulate a response, Chris was lightly kissing him once more. Sweet lips skimmed feather-light across his damaged jaw, cheek, and brow, and it was Vin's turn to groan at the tender contact.
The hot mouth moved to his ear then and murmured softly, "I won't let this happen again. I swear."
Making promises he couldn't keep . . .
"Y' can't . . . they . . . won't change . . ." Vin replied, frustration mounting at his limited ability to express his thoughts.
But Chris got the message. "I know that," he said as he pulled back to meet Vin's eyes. "But they'll learn that they can't get away with it. They'll learn to leave us alone. I don't need anyone's approval and I don't think you do, either."
No, he didn't. Vin would settle for acceptance. But unlike Chris, he didn't think the distance between tolerance and intolerance could be bridged so easily. A few threats might scare off the troublemakers for a time, but would people like Mrs. Potter ever look at him the same way again?
Did it matter?
It shouldn't, but . . .
It does matter . . .
Conflicting emotions clouded his eyes as he held Larabee's steady gaze. He wasn't ready for this conversation, but Chris didn't appear to be giving him much choice.
"We can take care of this, Vin, me and the boys. We can set them straight and they won't cross us again, whether we stay here or we don't."
Another subject he couldn't dwell on just yet, leaving town . . . the first place he'd called home in far too long . . .
"I just need to know who was behind it, Vin. No one in this damn town is talking. But I know that you know."
It always came back to that. He and Chris couldn't spend five minutes alone without the man pressing him. He could feel the heat burning behind his eyes, though he wasn't certain if it was from his rising temperature, or the intensity of the gaze that pinned him to the bed.
"Now I understand that you want to take care of them yourself," Chris continued on, obviously accustomed by now to one-sided conversations. "And I know you might be worried that I'll lose my temper and do something . . . impulsive."
A bit of a smile accompanied those last words, and Vin smirked.
"But as long as they're still out there, thinking they got away with it, you're still in danger."
Doubtful, Vin thought - not laid up under his six friends' watchful eyes.
"And so am I." Chris let the other shoe drop.
This was a new game they were playing, a new tactic to get him to open up.
And shit, it just might work.
Was Chris right? Was he in danger even now? Vin had believed he had time; that as long as he left town as soon as he could, Chris would be fine. Was he wrong? Would they go after Chris while Vin was laid up like an invalid?
No, not likely, Vin assured himself. Nine men against one didn't take much thinking, but three men taking on Chris Larabee? That would require a lot more guts, not to mention extreme stupidity.
But maybe there were more than three . . . maybe the whole town wanted them gone . . . wanted them dead.
Well, of course they did, because what he and Chris shared just wasn't natural or acceptable by any standards, at least not in the so-called 'civilized' world. Only three men joined in with Ella's men to attack him, but they probably had the support of many more behind them.
And that wasn't likely to change, no matter what Chris and the boys tried to say or do.
"Vin?" Chris looked at him expectantly. Patience was Larabee's strong suit, but Vin knew he had sorely tested it over the past few days.
The wind and rain picked up, striking the window with increasing ferocity, and Vin's eyes were drawn to it, the longing to escape biting hard. The chill would feel so good in the suffocating heat.
He should just tell him. Tell Chris that it was Zeb and Charley and Todd - three young men with homes and wives and families. Vin had often visited each of their homesteads, in fact, on his rounds. They had seven children between them, four young boys and three little girls who surely didn't deserve to pay for the actions of their fathers.
Hopefully Larabee would have sense enough not to kill the men outright, but he would undoubtedly knock around them a little, lock them up for a time. It wouldn't take much to scare the shit out of them, but it wouldn't change the way they felt. Nothing would ever change the way they felt. Chris could deny and ignore and threaten until he was blue in the face, but it would always be there, hanging over their heads and painted on their skin, kind of like that scarlet letter story Josiah had told him about.
Even if it wasn't true, people would still believe it, still talk about it. People were quick to believe the worst in others - Vin knew that first hand.
The worst . . . is that what this was? Him and Chris? Vin didn't think so, but he'd been exposed to many different ways of life in his past. There were good men and bad men of every color and creed, and they all had their own ideas about what was right and what wasn't. Vin didn't waste his time passing judgment on others, but that never stopped others from passing judgment on him.
"Vin, please."
Chris was as close to begging as Vin had ever heard. The plea in the green eyes nearly sold him, but it was the gentle hand running up and down his injured arm that left him completely undone. Like always, all Larabee had to do was touch him and his resolve crumbled away like loose rock in a mudslide.
"A'right," Vin rasped, the word catching in his parched throat.
He took a breath and told himself it would be alright. Chris would be alright, no matter how it played out. But it was hard to breathe and to think. The rain, he thought, choking out sound and light and reason. A sudden chill gripped him, rattled his teeth until his jaw clenched and he groaned in agony.
Chris pulled the blanket up around his shoulders, his earlier determination quickly replaced with worry. "I'll get Nathan," he offered.
But Vin shook his head and mumbled, "No." His tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth, but there was something important he had to say if only he could remember what it was.
"Drink this," Chris implored, pushing a straw between his teeth.
He managed to pull the water in, but swallowing it proved to be harder. Everything felt sluggish and distorted, like he was moving underwater.
The rain . . .
Water dribbled from the corner of his mouth and across his chin. He felt Chris gently wipe it away, and the small portion of his brain that still functioned registered embarrassment at that. Like a child, only worse, and Chris would be so much better off with Mary. An image swam before him . . . Chris and Mary and Billy, arm in arm. It looked right, natural, meant to be.
And it would happen that way, if only Vin had the strength to walk away.