Coming Home
Part 2 of the "Home" trilogy
The town was bigger and much busier than he'd imagined, looking less dusty with newly graded gravel compacted below his horse's hooves, and prosperous with new businesses lining the widened street. Railroad had done its job, he thought. Four Corners had grown into much more than a bitty hump of civilization in the middle of nowhere."Quiet today," Vin commented as they walked their mounts slowly down the street.
Chris looked at him, astonished. Time was even the little Four Corners of his memory had been too crowded for the lone-wolf sharpshooter. Vin seemed to catch his look.
"Sunday morning. Always quiet. At least till they wake Ezra up," Vin grinned.
"Who does and why in God's name would they?" Chris asked, curious.
Vin shrugged. "In God's name, I guess. Buck seems to find it amusing to drag him over to Josiah's Sunday morning service. We all go. Habit I guess."
Yes, Buck would be going to services. Mary would insist, although his friend would have been supportive of Josiah's efforts anyway. Not necessarily supportive enough to crawl out of some woman's bed on a Sunday morning, but then Vin had told him that things were changed.
"This way," Vin indicated as he reined Peso to the left. There was a new cross street in the middle of the town. Four Corners finally lived up to its name.
Halfway down the street, Chris spotted Buck and Nathan chatting out front of a new building that sported a sign reading, "Dr. K. Hoffmann, Surgery." Jackson saw him first, a bright smile creasing his face and causing Buck to turn around. The tall sheriff's face broke into a similar grin as he called out, "Gawd damn, Larabee, you son-of-a-bitch! What a sight for sore eyes, you old dawg!"
Chris barely had time to swing down from his horse before his old friend had engulfed him in a bear hug. "Damn it, cowboy. What took you?" Buck asked.
Chris found himself hugging back in a way he'd never done before. It was a greeting, an apology and an acknowledgement of equal feelings, all at the same time. He had missed his long-time friend. "Sorry. Had some stuff to work through."
Buck shoved back a bit, still not letting go as if he were afraid Chris would disappear. "You got it worked out now?"
Chris shrugged and gave him a quick smile in answer. Buck stepped back as Chris turned to shake Nathan's hand and then pull him into a quick manly hug. "Welcome home, Chris," Nathan greeted him.
"Thanks, Nathan. How come I don't see your name on that shingle too?"
"Still unofficial. But Doc Kate says I'm as good as any she went to school with and she's taught me a whole lot. Maybe some day they'll have a school that will take my kind. . .heck, they're taking women now. Meantime, I just keep on doing what I do. Between this and the farm, we're keeping food on the table. Did Vin tell you. . ."
Chris broke in, "Yeah, he filled me in on everything. Congratulations on you and Rain."
He slapped Nathan lightly on the arm and then, turning a bit back to the sheriff who stood close by, he took Buck's hand and pumped it. "You too, Buck. I'm happy for you and Mary."
Buck looked a bit uncomfortable. "You sure you're good with this, pardner?"
Chris nodded. "I'm good. Can't wait to see your girl tho. Vin tells me she's got you wrapped around her baby finger. That I want to see."
Jackson laughed aloud as the friends shared smiles. "Oh, yeah, she does. Wrapped up in a pretty pink bow, he is. She makes Ezra look amateur when it comes to con jobs."
Buck gave Nathan a playful shove. "Keep that up and you can wake Standish by yourself."
"I'm thinking we should send Chris in," Vin commented. "Not so likely to shoot him."
"I took his guns away already," Nathan assured them. "But when Chrissy does it, he watches his mouth. We do it and he'll blister the roof off the church with that language."
"I'm still not sure I understand why you do this," Chris said.
The men looked at one another. "Fun," Buck told him with a wide grin.
Chris laughed and then his smile died away as the sound of little boots pounded on the boardwalk and he saw a flash of pink and white racing towards them, silver blonde curls flying as the wind untied the ribbon that held them back.
"Papa! Uncle Vin! You're home!"
Bypassing her father, little Christine Wilmington threw herself at her Godfather Vin who swung her up in the air, causing delighted laughter as he jostled her up and down. "Hey, little britches, is that a new dress?"
Her eyes shone. Green eyes, soft like new grass; the same shade he saw in the mirror with every morning shave. "Yes, mama made it for me!" she answered enthusiastically. "Higher, Uncle Vin! I want to reach the sky!"
He'd been half-afraid she would look like Adam, but other than the eye color, she was all her mother's daughter. In about ten year's time, her father would be following her around with a shotgun over his shoulder. Correction, seven men would be standing guard over her virtue.
Buck stepped in and Vin passed her over to her father who she hugged fiercely. "Your mama is going to be here any minute and she will give us holy heck if you're all mussed, young lady. Now I got someone here I want to meet you. Can you be a lady for a few minutes at least and make your old Papa proud of your manners?"
She nodded and eyed Chris. "Who are you?" she asked boldly.
Chris's mouth felt a bit dry as he formulated an answer. Buck cut in, "So much for manners. Missy, this is your other Godfather. The one you always ask about."
Her eyes got wide. "You my Uncle Chris?"
Chris nodded.
"Billy says you killed a whole lot of bad men, even more than Papa!"
Buck looked pained. "Mister Billy sometimes talks a bit too much and that's no way to greet your Godfather, young lady."
"I'm sorry, Papa. Should I hug him then?" Chrissy asked, using the best pair of doe eyes Chris had seen since the last time Standish had tried to convince him he was too sick to get up early one morning, right before Chris had left town on the hunt for Ella.
"I'd be right happy to get a hug, if your papa doesn't mind and if you have any to spare, Miss Wilmington," Chris told her, as he acknowledged his friend's role.
Passing her like a package, Buck handed over his daughter into hands he knew were as caring and safe as his own. She was as light as air, soft as a downy chick and smelled like soap and some of the rosewater scent that Chris had come to associate with her mother. The little girl shoved his hat back on its strings the better to hug him tightly as she solemnly said, "How-dee-doo, Uncle Chris."
Her father's daughter, Chris thought, because her mother surely wouldn't approve of such a common greeting. Her father, Buck, because no matter what the actual breeding, a child was the product of those who reared her. Buck was the one who had fed and dressed and diapered and fussed and worried over her all these years. Something he would have done himself if he'd only known, but even if he considered the possibilities, he hadn't taken the time to make sure and in doing so, he surrendered all the benefits with those responsibilities. She was Buck's little girl now.
Vin's words echoed in his thoughts. ". . .he's willing to share."
And then, once again he heard the soft voice that had been relegated to scarce visited memories. "Welcome home, Mr. Larabee."
Mary stood there, snugged up next to Buck, his arm placed familiarly over her shoulders.
On the long and dusty trail back to Four Corners, he'd wondered how he'd feel to see her again, this time seeing her as Mrs. Wilmington instead of thinking of her as the girl he left behind. He wanted to be happy for her and for Buck. He was afraid he'd be jealous, feel cheated, and blame the wrong man, because he had only himself to blame. It was with some relief that he realize he was, indeed, happy for them.
"Thank you, Mary. Mrs. Wilmington. Congratulations, on. . .everything."
She was still beautiful, more so with the obvious thickening of impending motherhood. She glowed. Next to her stood a young man with his mother's eyes and the same look of hero-worship he'd always seen on the boy. "Billy. It's good to see you again."
The boy beamed and stuck forth a hand that Chris shook briefly before pulling the boy into hug. "Ya got tall."
"I can shoot real good now. Papa Buck and Uncle JD and Uncle Vin have been learnin. . .I mean, teaching me."
The boy glanced at his mother who ignored the slight lapse of proper grammar. Buck nodded, "He can take down a rabbit at fifty paces with one shot."
The church bell interrupted them and Mary sighed, "We're going to be late again."
"Can we wake up Uncle Ezra now?" piped Chrissy, obviously eager to tackle the task.
Nathan turned and held the door for them as Chrissy struggled out of Chris's hold and jumped down, racing into the office. The little girl was a ball of continuous activity. Chris followed into the neat little room at the back that held several beds, apparently some kind of nursing ward. Furthest from the windows and hence, the morning light, Ezra snored softly, still dressed in his Saturday night best. A bright peacock blue jacket hung on the nearby chair, along with his vest and hat. The gun rigs were nowhere in sight. One hand sported a bandage over the knuckles and a vivid red bruise dappled his left cheekbone.
"Some things just never change," Vin commented at the sight. "He still takes swings at guys twice his size and still spends most of his Saturday nights in Nathan's care."
Chris smiled; the memories of bar-scented nights, the tang of cheap whiskey, the riffle of cards and the sting of bruising brawls jumbled in his mind like aftermath of a cow town Saturday night.
Chrissy had already climbed up on the edge of the bed and began to shake him with all her might, shouting cheerfully, "Wakey, wakey, Uncle Ezra! It's time for church!"
Ezra groaned and attempted to pull the pillow over his head. "Dear Lord, Miss Wilmington, I cannot understand how your mother has failed to educate you about the imperative need for a good night's somnolence."
Chrissy slowed her assault long enough to look at her father and ask, "What did he say, Papa?"
"He says you need to shake him harder," Chris supplied. "How about I get a bucket of water?"
Standish jerked up, fully awakened by the sound of Chris' voice. "Mr. Larabee," he drawled, his dimples and gold tooth flashing in symphony. "How extraordinary. Am I dreaming?"
Chrissy had plonked herself on the gambler's blanketed lap and patted his face. "Nope. You're awake and we're taking you and my Uncle Chris to see Uncle Josiah."
"Now, Miss Christine, don't you think. . .."
The little girl sighed and put her hand over his mouth. "Save it," she ordered, sounding so much like her Uncle Josiah, Chris chuckled aloud as she continued with, "You're outnumbered."
Looking defeated, Ezra scooted her down off the bed and began to button up his shirt. "Nathan, where are my guns and my boots?"
"Boots are under the bed if you wasn't so lazy to look where I always put them and you know there's no guns in church, Ezra. You can have them back later. And by the way, when are you going to start keeping your money in the bank where it belongs instead of in your boot?"
"Banks can be robbed," Ezra sniffed as he bent over to pull out his boots and slipped them on.
"So can you, as I remember," Chris interjected.
Ezra glared at him. "If you put your money in the bank, Ezra, maybe you'll be a little more prompt next time someone decides to rob it," Vin suggested, handing him his vest.
"Now there's an idea," nodded Buck, holding the bright jacket out for its owner to claim.
Ezra snatched the jacket with a growl. "If you are all finished with verbally abusing me, shall we take our fearless leader over to visit Brother Josiah? Perhaps he might cut his sermon shorter in his eagerness to greet Mr. Larabee?"
Chris grabbed Ezra's hat, smashing it down on the gambler's pillow-mussed hair as he commented, "Always looking for the advantage aren't you, Ezra? You're right, Vin. Some things never change."
"One does not tamper with perfection, Mr. Larabee," Ezra drawled, his smirk irritating as ever as he straightened his hat.
Chrissy bounced from one person to another as they strolled down the street to the corner, where they turned to go to the church, now located at the far end of the main thoroughfare, away from the livery. Probably a good move in warm weather, Chris thought as he noticed the way Buck escorted his wife with a courtly hand at her elbow. She had him trained well, he snorted mentally. Vin caught his look and Chris shrugged. Better him than me, he thought. Maybe things had turned out for the best.
JD and Casey were wrangling their twins into the lineup of children awaiting their orderly procession into the storefront that served as Sunday school next to the church. They still looked too impossibly young, but from what Vin had said, they were making their way successfully.
Billy stepped up to grab the twins' hands, much to the parent's relief. As the adults turned to join those going up into the church, Chris paused and said quietly, "Hello, JD. Casey."
JD looked stunned. "My God. Chris. Chris Larabee."
He stumbled forward and Chris took the proffered hand to shake, but pulled him into a hug instead. Then he held out an arm to gather Casey in with them. "I'm doing a lot of congratulating today," Chris commented.
Casey planted a kiss on his cheek. "Welcome back, Mr. Larabee."
"Chris," he corrected her as he knocked JD's hat to the ground and rubbed his hair affectionately.
The young man still wore the same silly hat and the same shaggy hairdo. The beard growth was as sparse as ever, but he sported a bristly mustache too now, in imitation of his local hero.
JD smiled, "Uncle Chris," as he nodded to where Billy led the twins, occasionally giving his little sister a shove back into line.
"You dog," Chris grinned at them. "One at time wasn't enough?"
JD picked up his hat as he told him, "If I'd have had a choice, I'd have done it different. Even I'm not that reckless. I'm telling you Chris, some days, I wonder if Josiah isn't right and they're my eternal reward for every thing I did since I got out West."
Casey gave him an angry shove.
"Hey, like you didn't tell me yesterday after they dumped all the wash on the ground that you hoped the gypsies would take them off your hands?" he protested.
Chris gave Casey a pat on the shoulder. "I seem to recall my Sarah saying much the same and we only had the one. No matter how much you love them, there are days when it's pretty overwhelming. Now, not to cut this short, but aren't we late?"
"Send Ezra ahead. He can take the first volley," Vin offered.
Standish smiled, obviously eager to tweak the tiger's tail as he bounded up the steps and throwing the doors open, he proclaimed loudly, "My apologies, Brother Josiah. Circumstances of a most extraordinary nature prevented my prompt. . ."
"Shut up, Ezra and sit down," boomed the preacher's voice, much to everyone's amusement as they followed up the stairway. Chris hung back for a second, not certain where he should sit, but Vin nudged him to follow him.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wilmington. How nice of you to join us. I take it Ezra delayed you as usual," Josiah intoned.
"That and more, Brother Josiah," Buck beamed at him as he and Mary took their customary pew at the front.
Ezra had already planted himself at the end of the last row, as if Josiah didn't have a clear view of the gambler's usual nap. Nathan took the seat beside him, the better to be able to apply secret elbow jabs if the snoring got too loud. JD and Casey were next, apologizing as they took the row across from the Wilmington's up front. "Ah, the twins," Josiah supplied for them.
The preacher spotted Vin standing in the doorway next. "Welcome home, Vin. I take it we have much to thank the Lord for today in your behalf. Do join us."
Vin nodded and then grinned. "Brought ya a stray," and he stepped aside to reveal the still trail-dusty gunslinger behind him.
Josiah's wide, toothy smile almost obscured the rest of his features as he recognized the dark figure silhouetted against the bright doorway. He bounded off the pulpit and strode to the back of the church in a few long steps to shake the hand of his lost lamb and then to pull him into a back-pounding hug. "Welcome home, Brother. Welcome home."
"It's good to be home," Chris assured him.
As Chris took the seat between Nathan and Vin, Josiah pulled the doors shut and then, hands clasped behind him, he paced back to his pulpit, saying, "I had planned a little fire and brimstone for you today, but I think we should instead turn to Luke and contemplate the lessons in the story of the Prodigal Son."
Chris leaned back on the wooden seat and drank in the peaceful scene. The morning light filtered through the stained glass window behind the preacher and the scent of the burning beeswax candles wafted in the air. Vin nudged him slightly and whispered, "What's a prodigal?"
Chris smirked and whispered back, "That would be guys like us."
Vin nodded and gave his attention back to the preacher.
Chris barely heard the words, his mind still processing the morning's events. Things certainly had changed, but that which had remained the same was as strong and compelling as ever: his destiny with six brothers. He no longer had any doubts that he'd done the right thing in coming home.
The End
Continues in Finally Home