Summary: Vin and Lydia and Chris
Pairing: Chris/Vin
Warnings: slash, angst
Beta-ed by some excellent people - Estee, Kim, and WolfandBoarfics. Any screw-ups and mistakes are, as ever, my own!
Notes: This is set during the episode "Nemesis". It's part of my Weaving universe, and this one is a Fraying story (from Vin's POV).
"John Blackfox," Travis stared through his glasses at the defendant, "it is my duty to sentence you to hang from the neck until dead, sentence to be carried out two days hence at dawn. May God have mercy on your soul." The sound of the gavel echoed through the room, and Vin shivered.
He rose as Chris did, following him out the door. Not that they were strictly needed to keep the peace; anybody riding with Blackfox was long gone. They'd had no trouble since he'd been picked up, too drunk to realize he was out of bullets as he continued to try to fire his revolver into the air in the middle of the night.
JD had been the one to find the wanted poster, and it hadn't taken long for Judge Travis to be winding his way to the town to handle the 'necessary legalities', as Josiah had called the sentencing. Especially since the Judge had already had to be here for the issues involving the capture of the men who had killed his own son.
Vin had been surprised, but impressed, by the fact that Judge Travis had refused to pass judgment on Wheeler and his associates, turning that over to another district. He had told them that he didn't want any chance of these men getting away with his son's murder or there being any question about the conviction. But Travis had ridden into town to watch the murderers being escorted out, and to comfort Mary and Billy in the aftermath.
Not that they needed it; Chris had been there every day, and every night -
Vin caught himself, stopping for just a second. He couldn't think about that, wouldn't think about that. Instead, he let himself be distracted by Blackfox's protestations of - well, not innocence, there wasn't much way he could be innocent. Not after being caught red-handed rustling horses. But he had a mouth on him, and right now, it was working fast, trying to beg for leniency now that it was too damned late.
JD and Buck led the convicted man past, and Vin avoided looking at him, not wanting to see the desperation in his eyes. It was a desperation he knew too well.
"You all right?" Chris voice was low in his ear, and Vin felt the brush of fingers against his elbow.
"Yeah," he muttered, looking out across the dusty road. Nobody was moving much, most people staying clear of the saloon and the trial they knew to be going on. This sort of justice was still relatively new, and the memory of the way the first James' trial had gone still made many people wary of being anywhere near one.
"Might be a good time for somebody to make a circuit of those outlying farms, make sure everybody's all right," Chris commented, stepping a little away.
Vin glanced to him, wondering whether that was Chris' easy way of letting him leave during the Blackfox hanging or if Chris wanted to get him out of town for other reasons. The man had been distant enough these last days, spending little time at all with them, even Buck.
Either way, it worked for Vin; he had no desire to be anywhere near a hanging and if Chris didn't want him around, he didn't want to be around. So with a shrug, he said, "You sure?"
For the first time since before Billy Travis had arrived in town a week or so before, Larabee turned his full attention on Vin. There was something in his eyes that Vin didn't like, but it was way back, behind a concern and friendship that made Vin's belly warm. "I think we can handle this," he said with a nod. "You'd be doing me a favor, taking that chore."
Vin held his gaze long enough to know that Chris wasn't just saying that. He nodded. "Thanks."
Chris nodded. "Probably take several days - 'specially if you get as far as the Dain spread. Might be a good idea to check in on them if you don't mind going that far out."
Vin nodded. "Can do that. Reckon I'd best get supplies and get on it." He took a step away, then paused as Chris' hand fell on his shoulder. He'd taken it out of the sling and Vin wondered if Nathan approved.
"Watch your back," the other man said softly, squeezing lightly. He moved away then, crossing in front of Vin and off the boardwalk.
Vin took his time, checking in with every house along the way. The Harrison baby was doing a lot better, eating solid food and starting to walk, over his colic. The Barnetts were doing well, the oldest girl getting ready to wed one of the O'Neill boys over close to Red Fork and Mrs. Barnett going on about the preparations to the point Vin thought his eyes might glaze over. Mr. Barnett saved him with some questions about one of their horses, and he managed to decline a dinner invitation with some politeness, he thought, anyway.
The other families were equally as nice and doing well, as were solitary houses of Mr. Carlson, who'd never married and had several ranch hands living with him, keeping his cattle, and Old Man Hennick who'd lost his wife the winter before. His son and daughter-in-law were moving out from somewhere in Indiana to help him out, and Vin wondered if that would be a problem, but Hennick seemed pleased about it.
All in all, it took him almost three days to make the circuit, but he didn't rightly care. He spent each night under the stars, happy in the silence and privacy, thankful that Chris had given him the choice. He didn't let himself think too much on that, though, not wanting to think about how things were between them. He'd known since that first time, the only time, that night in the Seminole village, that Chris wasn't gonna take this thing between them easy - hell, he'd been married and had a kid. If Mary could give him that back, then Vin had no place, other than as a friend. It would be what it would be.
That idea took a hard knock, though, when he rode back into town late that fourth day to hear JD's report that Chris had taken Nathan and Josiah with him and Blackfox, going off somewhere that JD, nor anyone else in the town, seemed to know.
"You shoulda seen it, Vin," JD rambled on, waving his hands so much that he almost knocked his hat off. "Chris was dunking him in the horse-trough - hell, Nathan was sure he was gonna drown Blackfox!"
Vin frowned, looking down the street to where the hanging platform still stood, ominous against the setting sun. "Where'd they go?" he asked, followed quickly by, "Where's Buck?"
JD pulled at his gunbelt as he answered, "Don't know. Buck lit out after 'em, soon as he heard that Chris had taken Blackfox for a ride. None of 'em have come back, but Ezra says we shouldn't be worried until we hear from them."
"Ezra don't want to leave his comforts," Vin shot back, irritated suddenly.
"Now, Mr. Tanner," Ezra's voice floated from behind him, "while that might be true, it's hardly the extent of the matter. Mr. Larabee did not feel inclined to share with those of us left behind the details of his adventure - truth be told, he didn't share it with Mr. Jackson or Mr. Sanchez either, from what little they told me before they were whisked away. I suspect that he had little intention of sharing it with anyone, as he took neither you nor Mr. Wilmington, at least at the outset. He seemed quite intent on being as vague as possible about the whole matter. But the very public argument he was having with Mr. Blackfox prior to their abrupt departure suggests that they were off to ascertain the veracity of Blackfox's claim to know something of the deaths of Mr. Larabee's family. "
He stepped off the porch, coming even with Vin, and his words continued seamlessly. "This is all conjecture, of course. Why, even Mrs. Travis appears to have been left in the dark as to our leader's intent. I had the opportunity to speak with her yesterday afternoon, at Mrs. Potter's establishment. She seemed as perplexed by the whole affair as we are."
Vin sighed, trying not to take solace in the fact that Chris hadn't told Mary either. Either it happened real fast, or his friend really didn't want to share this.
"So you two are watching the town," he said instead, shifting his weight to one leg as his back twinged with the first strong pains of the past few days.
"Three," Ezra corrected, arching one eyebrow. "It would seem that Mr. Larabee left you as well."
As if he needed to be told that.
He would have dwelt on it, given the time, but as he was making his way to his wagon for the night, JD's voice called out of the darkness, "Vin! We got a telegram from Josiah!"
Vin stiffened, his hand falling instantly to the butt of his mare's leg. "Trouble?"
JD was waving the piece of paper in front of Vin as if he wanted Vin to read it. "Doesn't say, but I'm guessing so. He says for us to meet him in Eagle Bend quick as possible. Think we oughta leave now?" He was so excited that Vin wondered if they'd have a choice.
"Let's go see Ez," he countered, wanting the other man to read the telegram as well before making any decisions.
In the end, they left early, before sun-up, which proved to be a wise decision. They rode hard, making it into Eagle Bend in time to hear the first gunshots. He had no trouble identifying Chris' shots, but he didn't hear the familiar shots of their friends, just a cluster of shots that were most likely aimed at Chris.
"Trouble!" JD yelled, spurring his horse.
"Hang on!" Vin called even as Ezra also called out, "Wait!"
JD pulled up, his horse skittish at the sudden change in command, and he glared over his shoulder at Vin.
"You aimin' ta get killed?" Vin called, but he was looking around. "There."
Ezra caught on quick, his mind more devious than Vin's. The wagon was off to one side of the corral, rough looking from being in the weather, but the canvas cover was still intact - and someone had already seen fit to hitch up a couple of mules.
JD figured it out quick enough, joining them in the back even as Vin started the team forward with a flick of the long reins. "Don't do nothing 'til I say," he ordered, more for JD than Ezra. "And stay down - we're riding into a crossfire, and the only thing we got going for us is that they'll be confused. Hope so, anyway. The wood on this crate won't keep the bullets out if they get too close."
But they might cut down on the number of bullets that could reach Chris, he thought as the wagon jumped and jolted down the main street toward the saloon. It was a grim relief when the bullets slowed then stopped, and he grinned, thinking of the confusion their appearance would have.*&*&*&*&*
Vin tried not to remember the last time they'd ridden into Purgatory, tried not to remember how worried Chris had been about him, how good it had felt to have Chris thinking about him. This time, Chris only had one worry and that was finding this Fowler as soon as possible.
Not that Vin blamed him; if he'd lost someone that special, he'd have been turning the world over too, looking for the bastard.
Still would have been nice, though, for Chris to at least act like he knew him. But then, Vin wasn't alone - other than Blackfox, Chris had hardly spoken to any of them, not even Buck. Chris needed their numbers, needed their guns and needed their loyalty, but he didn't need their thoughts or comments.
Fortunately, the little guy from New York showed up in time to keep Chris from shooting JD or Buck; they were winding themselves up into all sorts of chatter that was irritating Chris when Steele showed up, which gave Buck and JD a distraction and someone to protect.
Vin wanted to go with Chris, help him keep an eye on Blackfox and find the three shooters they were following, but Buck stalled him.
"Let him be, Vin," the big man said as they watched Nathan follow Chris and Blackfox. "He needs to get his own handle on it - hell, he ain't even happy that I'm here."
Vin chewed on the hay stalk, looking past Buck to Chris' back. He didn't think the man could walk any stiffer, or make himself any meaner, which was not what they needed here.
But he also knew he couldn't tell Chris that. Chris wasn't going to get any help here, not in his current mind. And these men in Purgatory weren't the kind that could be scared into giving answers.
"Vin?" Buck stood in front of him, leaning down a little to meet Vin's gaze. "Let it go, Vin. He ain't gonna give you what you want."
The words were unexpected, jolting Vin back to the present. "What the hell does that mean?" he asked, straightening himself and taking a step back.
Buck arched one eyebrow, and for a second, Vin thought the man might try to answer.
But JD blew in, and Vin thought later that it was a good thing. He wasn't sure he wanted to know how Buck would have answered, even though the way the man looked at him gave him an idea.
"So where we gonna start looking?" JD asked, almost jumping with energy. "We need to look for the horses, right, Vin?"
Vin nodded, but he kept his eyes on Buck, as the other man said, "Looking for the horses or the men or who were on them, that's what matters most to Chris right now."
They walked the streets, JD and Buck bantering, Vin hanging back, avoiding the stares of the men around them; some of them knew him, he heard the mutters and murmurs as they passed. Men he'd taken in for bounties, men who knew men he'd taken in. He didn't meet their eyes, not wanting a fight, not now. Most seemed to have the same thinking, standing out of their way as they moved through the dirty town.
They walked the length of it, JD's curiosity drawing more attention and grumbles than Vin liked, but Buck stayed close, his size a sort of protection. Vin didn't miss the dark looks Buck gave to anyone and everyone who looked at JD, nor did he miss that JD didn't notice those same looks.
Boy was gonna get himself killed one day, unless Buck could teach him different. Vin shook his head, toying with the stalk in his hand.
"Think Chris is having any better luck?" JD asked as they reached the square again.
Buck laughed, a low sound that didn't hold much humor. "Haven't heard any gunshots, so I reckon not."
"He sure is wound up on this," JD said, stopping to look down the street. "Think he's gonna be all right?"
Buck stepped up beside him, putting a hand on at JD's shoulder. But his eyes were on Vin as he said, "Ol' Chris will be fine. Might not be able to say the same about the rest of us, but he'll be fine."
"Hey, isn't that the undertaker over there?" And JD was off, leading the way. Buck, though, held Vin's gaze, until Vin sighed and looked away.
He'd gotten the message, loud and clear: Buck was warning him off.*&*&*&*&*
"Goddammit!" The bottle exploded when it hit the wall, whiskey and glass raining down on anyone nearby. For about ten seconds, the saloon was silent, until the few customers left saw that Chris' drunken temper wasn't aimed at them.
Vin sat in the corner, watching Buck try to soothe Chris back down to a simmer. It was the same as it had been for the last two nights, all of them returning from their rounds, none of them finding a damned thing - except Steele, who was getting all the pictures and stories he could ever want.
The rest of them were getting dust and sore asses and at the end of the day, Chris' anger. They'd been riding hard since that man in Purgatory had put the name of Fowler to Steele's picture. They'd taken the Mexican town apart looking for him, only to discover that he'd ridden out, supposedly north. Eagle Bend had made the most sense, but they'd been here since yesterday, looking hard, and found nothing.
Vin wasn't surprised that Nathan and Josiah had decided not to stop by the saloon, choosing instead to check on Blackfox at the jail before heading to one of Eagle Bend's restaurants for dinner. Vin had been tempted to go with them, but he knew Chris was going to need even more handling than usual tonight.
It was time to make another plan.
"Don't want to calm down!" Chris yelled, and a second, full bottle of the rotgut liquor hit the wall, this time splattering far enough to dot Vin's buckskins.
"Seems our Mr. Larabee has crossed a line," Ezra said calmly, but softly, from his seat across the table from Vin. "Personally, I think Buck has done more than his fair share of trying to keep him in hand. And we have all done more than enough to warrant some tolerance from him."
Vin let his eyes drift from where Buck was standing, hands on his hips, glaring down at Chris to where Ezra was sipping on a glass of brandy. "You can leave any time you want," he answered, but in truth, he couldn't disagree. Chris was getting harder to deal with, saying things to them that were getting too personal, too hard to forgive.
Ezra met his gaze, his own giving nothing away. "Indeed," he agreed. "As could any one of us, yourself included. You seem to be bearing the brunt of our leader's displeasure at the moment, given your inability to conjure Fowler's trail out of thin air."
Vin looked away, not happy that someone had noticed. It was true, though, Chris seemed to be taking it personally that Vin couldn't track Fowler. He was barely speaking to Vin, barely looking at him except to glare. "He's got a lot to worry about," he said quietly. "Fowler's responsible for his family's murders, Chris has got a right to take it personal."
"Fowler, yes," Ezra agreed. "But one would believe, from the way he behaves that you are nearly as culpable as Fowler. It might lead someone to wonder why you tolerate such treatment."
He shrugged, watching Buck step away from Chris, his shoulders rigid and his hands clenched. "Reckon I figure there are bigger things to worry on than Chris' bad temper."
"Very generous of you," Ezra said dryly. "But then, you do seem more fond of Mr. Larabee than many of us are."
Vin stiffened, caught himself too late. Ezra had already seen it, nothing to do but play it through. "You got something to say, say it," he challenged, turning to meet Ezra's gaze.
They stared at each other for several seconds, then Ezra tilted his head, and looked away. "I was merely expressing my understanding of your tolerance." He drained his glass, his lips curling in distaste. "I believe I shall join our compatriots in retiring for the evening." He stood, then frowned, glancing to the bar where Chris drank alone. "Perhaps your fondness for Mr. Larabee will make you more patient with his current state of pique."
Before he could figure out what Ezra was saying, the other man was easing out the door, already gone.
He willed his temper back; it was bad enough that Chris was acting like an ass, they didn't need for him to be as well.
As if on cue, though, Buck was at the table, glaring down at Vin like it was all his fault. "He's all yours," the tall man snarled. "I've had all I can stand for one day."
Vin didn't have time to argue with him, either, as Buck kept moving, following Ezra out the door.
Leaving Vin staring at Chris' black-clad back, which he did for about an hour, until Chris slammed down his glass on the bar, and turned around.
He stared straight at Vin, his eyes narrowed with a sort of fury that made Vin swallow. He was on his feet as Chris got to him, but the impact of Chris' hands catching at his shirt almost put him back down.
"What the hell -" he started, catching his balance, but Chris was right in his face, smelling of liquor and rage and exhaustion.
"Thought you were the best damned tracker around," Chris snarled, his breath hot against Vin's skin. "Thought you knew everything there was to know 'bout hunting a man. But you can't find Fowler, a one-handed, murdering bastard. He that much better than you?"
He held his temper, but barely; Chris was drunk and he was angry, and today, today was Vin's turn to put up with it. "Been a long day and we're all tired," he said instead. "I'm heading on to bed - you comin' or you stayin' here?"
The grip on his shirt tightened, and Chris leaned in so close that all Vin could see were the pupils of his eyes. For a few seconds, Vin stared into the green eyes, watching the anger slowly flow into something else, something he knew, but not well. "Wouldn't mind comin'," Chris said finally, so low that it was more a rumble in Vin's belly than a sound. "You offering?"
He wasn't, hadn't been, but the thought, the memory of the time in the Seminole village, the two of them together, touching - it took his breath, definitely took his tongue. He'd wanted to have another time like that, wanted to touch Chris that way again, have Chris touch him. He'd offered once or twice, in his own way, but Chris hadn't been interested.
Until now. Now, when Vin hadn't meant it. But here, with the offer before him, he could think of nothing else. Part of him knew it was foolish, stupid even. Chris was angry, wanting this to escape hisw own thought, not for the pleasure it would give them both.
But he'd wanted it for so long, that he couldn't refused. Best he could do was nod, which was all Chris needed.
Chris shoved at him, pushing him toward the door. Vin didn't have to look at the few people left in the saloon to know they were relieved. Outside, Chris was behind him, his fingers tight on Vin's shoulder, twisting into the thick pelt of the buckskin jacket.
The cool air cleared Vin's head a little, enough to give him pause. "Where we going?" he asked, trying to slow down.
"Hotel," Chris answered, pushing Vin along. "Got a room."
"Ain't it with Buck?" Vin asked, even as he stepped along with Chris.
"He won't be there," Chris muttered. "He's off with someone else for now."
"How can you - "
Chris stopped short, pulling Vin in close. "I'm sure. You got a problem?"
Vin stared at him for a few seconds, swallowed, then shook his head.
They were moving again before there was any chance to speak, Vin trying to keep pace, or just ahead. He expected Chris to give him some space as they entered the hotel, expected him to be somewhat distant for the sake of appearances, so he was surprised that Chris gave no ground.
There was no one behind the desk though, and no one in the main room or the nearby dining area which was long closed. "Up here," Chris muttered, pushing Vin in front of him and up the stairs.
The part of him that had argued against this came back, louder this time. It was one thing to have Chris' temper aimed at him in the saloon or even on the trail, with the others around. Alone, in a bedroom, Vin wasn't so sure he could keep the upper hand. Chris had been rough that first time together, something Vin thought was part of his need. That need seemed to be greater now, as Chris had brought it up in the saloon, almost in public. Especially after avoiding it as long as he had.
The room was at the end of the second floor, a corner room which made Vin wonder if Chris had been planning this all along. Vin had been planning to sleep in the loft of the livery, watching over their horses. He didn't trust Fowler not to have a look-out around to cause them trouble.
They stopped in front of the door, and Chris pulled a key from his pocket. He tried to get it in place, fumbled it, and slapped it into Vin's hand with a growled, "Get it open."
Vin looked at him and said quietly, "I ain't going nowhere, you can let me go." He wasn't really surprised when the hold on him tightened more, the jacket pulled so that he had a hard time moving his arms. Nor was he really surprised when, once he had the door open, Chris shoved hard, pushing him into the room.
He shrugged, settling his coat back into place as he caught his balance and turned back to the other man. Chris locked the door, putting the key on the dresser as he turned up the lamp that was already lit but set very low.
The room was like most hotel rooms Vin had seen: one bed, couple of chairs, a small table, and a dresser with a bowl and pitcher and washing towels. The lamp didn't cast a lot of light, but he didn't need it to figure that the bed linens were worn and the furniture scratched and used. Eagle Bend was like most frontier towns, and this was about the best that most people could afford. It was nice enough to have a bed, 'specially for what they were about to get up to.
What they were about to get up to. The thought of it, the want of it, burned in his belly, and he turned to look at Chris, catching his gaze. Something in it reminded him of the night in the Seminole village. "I ain't gonna be used like no whore," he said flatly, thinking of Lydia and some of the other women Chris had been with.
Chris straightened, his eyes narrowing in a glare. "Well, can't seem to use you as a tracker. What else are you good for?"
But even as he squared his shoulders, expecting a fight, Chris sighed. He pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the dresser, then slid off his duster. "Guess you can't track if there's nothing to track," he said grimly, staring at Vin.
It was the closest thing Vin was going to get to an apology, and he knew it. With a quick nod, he mirrored Chris movements, pulling of his hat and reaching for his coat and his gun, which he placed on the bedside table.
As he settled it, Chris moved forward as well, his own gun and gun belt beside Vin's.
He caught Chris' gaze, unable to read anything in it, but also not seeing any anger. Chris' fingers rose strip, his eyes not leaving Vin's.
Chris was solid and sleek, sharp lines and tight muscles, his body toned by hard work and hard living. Vin found his own fingers fumbling, his attention distracted by the awareness of the other man's body, of the power and beauty. He'd never had a doubt about how this was going to play, Chris in charge and on top, but now the want for him doubled - as did the fear.
Chris was out of his shirt and his boots, and frowning. "You lookin' to change your mind?" he asked, his voice hard.
Vin swallowed, turning back to what he was doing. He looked away, more for the distraction of not having Chris to look at, and shed his coat, toeing off his boots as he pulled his suspenders over his shoulders then worked at the only button on his shirt, high at the collar.
"You done this before," Chris said, but there was an edge to it that let Vin know he was asking.
The shirt was brown calico, the front of it laced together with a thick brown cord instead of buttons. It usually didn't bother him to have to deal with the lacing, but now, irritated by this talk, he pulled on it more forcefully than he should have. "Bent over for a man? That what you're asking?" He heard the soft grate as some of the worn fabric tore, only adding to his growing nerves.
"Yeah," Chris said, his voice closer. "That's what I'm asking."
Vin glanced over in time to find Chris at his side, the other man's hands catching his own and stilling them. "Might not be a good idea to rip that apart," Chris said, and there was something in his tone, then, something soft and low. "People might talk if they see you leaving this room with your clothes in tatters."
He pulled Vin's hands down and away, taking up the thread himself. He was so close that Vin could feel the heat of him, could smell the sweat and smoke of his cigars, and the whiskey he'd been drinking. Could smell the man of him, the rich, earthy smell that was unwashed, grown man, too long in the same clothes and same saddle and closed-in rooms.
"Figured you had," Chris said quietly, and it took Vin a space to remember what he was talking about. "Figured you'd know what to do."
There was a stir of anger at the implication, but as it started to take fire, Chris' fingertips brushed Vin's bare skin and his breath caught. Before he caught it, the shirt was loose enough for Chris to tug it from his pants and pull it over his head, leaving him shivering despite the warmth of the room, the heat of Chris' body.
He didn't realized his eyes were closed until he heard the soft 'whoof' of his shirt landing on something else, but as he started to blink, something rough rubbed over one of his nipples.
"What -" he gasped, jerking, and he found himself staring at Chris who was staring at his chest.
Staring and touching, his thumb brushing back over the sensitive nub, watching it harden at the contact.
"Pretty as a girl's," Chris murmured, his breath tingling as it blew over Vin's skin.
"Ain't no girl," Vin snapped, pulling away. "You got a problem with that, we'd best stop right now."
He hadn't intended to say the words, hadn't wanted to have the thought, not with Chris standing this close, this naked, and touching him.
But that was the thing: Chris was touching him, and he wanted Chris to touch him, not to be thinking of Lydia or one of them Purgatory whores he'd spent a night or two with, not to be thinking of Mary or anybody else.
Chris looked at him, his eyes bright in the dim light. "You think I ain't done this before? You think I don't know the difference between fucking a man and fucking a woman?"
Something in the idea made Vin uneasy; to be honest, he hadn't thought that, hadn't even considered the idea that Chris had had other men.
As if sensing a weakness, Chris grinned and went on, "Man's tighter than a woman, hotter and drier. Hurts him, so he don't tend to beg for it the way a woman does - most men don't, anyway. You ain't quite like most men, though. But you say you don't want the pain, so I can't quite figure you out."
Vin crossed his arm over his chest, trying not to react as the contact with his nipples sent another jolt of want into his dick. "Ain't nothing to figure out. You want to fuck or not?"
For a second or two, he thought Chris was going to keep talking, push this. He straightened just a little more, looking around for his shirt, noting it was on top of his coat in a nearby chair.
"Hard to do with them pants on," Chris said instead, taking a step closer again. His fingers moved in slow, brushing down Vin's ribs to rest at the top of his pants. Slowly, one hand moved lower, coming down his hip and forward. When it curved over Vin's erection, it was all he could to keep breathing. "I know what you are. Know what it takes to have you, too." His palm pushed slow and deep, and Vin closed his eyes with the pleasure of it. "You ain't no girl."
His finger closed around it, gripping tightly and with a familiarity that made Vin lose himself for a time, lost in the touch. When it eased, he found he was holding onto Chris' shoulders, almost gasping for air, and the other man was smiling.
"No, you ain't no girl," Chris said again, but this time, it was soft and rich and full of promise.
His fingers brushed Vin's belly, almost tickling, but it was the cool air hitting him that let him know that Chris was opening his pants. He wanted to do it himself, wanted to have some say in this, but his brain was gone again as those damned fingers wormed past the buckskin and touched his flesh. It was all he could do to keep from coming right then and there.
"Been a while for you?" Chris whispered. There was humor in his tone though, and the hand not wrapped around Vin's cock was pushing at the pants, sliding them past Vin's hips.
The pants were heavy enough that once they got past his hips, they fell languidly to the floor, leaving him bare.
It wasn't something usual for him, to be naked, not with someone else. But here he stood, pants around his ankles, Chris' hand between his legs, and that other hand - that other hand -
He gasped, jerking back, which only drove the fingers further into the cleft of his ass.
"You ain't new to this," Chris said, "least that's what you say. You lying to me?" He drew harder on Vin's shaft, trapping him between his hands.
"Hell, no," Vin muttered, but it was hard to talk when those hands were doing things to him, making him feel so good but also bringing back memories he didn't want, not here, not with Chris.
"Get on the bed," Chris said, but the words took a while to cut through the fog in his head. It was not until those hands were gone and Chris was gone and the air was cool around him that he understood them.
Vin gathered some part of his mind, turning to find Chris plundering through his saddle bags. He looked good, damned good, still, pale in the light, the fine hair on his chest bronzed by the lamp.
"Move," Chris said sharply, not looking up from his search.
Vin stumbled free of his pants, then pulled off his socks as he leaned on the bed. The mattress was hard and a little lumpy, but it was better than a rough wall or a barrel - or a bedroll on sandy ground, the last place he had been this close to Chris.
As if knowing his mind, Chris said, "This what you wanted back then? In that village?" He had found whatever it was he was looking for and was coming in close, his hips swaying just enough to cast the line of his erection out of shadow.
Vin swallowed, straightening to lean back against the bed, his eyes caught on Chris' groin even as he tried to answer. "Wouldn't have said no."
Chris paused, tilting his head. "Why didn't you say so?" he asked.
Vin looked up to meet his eyes. "You didn't much give me the chance," he said. "Hell, I hardly knew you, and that ain't the thing you just offer another man straight off - 'specially one like you."
Chris laughed, then, but there was something in the sound that was off. "You told me about the bounty on your head, but not that you wanted me to fuck you?"
When he said it like that, it did sound stupid. But it hadn't been. He still remembered Chris' hurry, his roughness. His demands.
Like now, only, maybe, a little different.
Once more, Chris seemed to understand. "I scared you," he said slowly. "Kinda like I am now."
Vin shrugged. "Told ya, don't like for it to hurt."
"Gotta hurt some, don't it?" But even as Chris said it, Vin saw what he was holding: a tin of lanolin, one of the ones Nathan kept pushing on them for chapped skin.
He looked up, surprised. "Some. But not as much if you ain't in a hurry."
Chris stopped right in front of him, right up against him, so close their lips almost touched. Almost. Vin couldn't stop himself, leaning forward, wanting the touch - and just as quickly, Chris leaned to one side, his nose rubbing along Vin's neck. "I can slow down," he whispered, the words hot as they blew over Vin's skin.
Chris' tongue touched just at the space just under his jaw, where it met his throat, and he shivered. That tongue moved more, along the underside of his jawbone, teasing and tasting and making him hurt with want.
"On the bed," Chris said again, these words in Vin's ear as teeth raked along his earlobe.
Once more, it took him several seconds for the words to get inside his head, and only when Chris was again clear of him.
He looked to find Chris pushing down his pants, Chris' erection smacking wetly against his belly. Vin knew better, but he couldn't stop himself from staring at it, long and lean, the dusky head shining.
Chris stepped out of his pants with more grace than Vin had had, but he stopped, and Vin could feel the other man's irritation before he saw it. "You still standing there?" Chris asked
Trying not to be cowardly, Vin pulled himself onto the bed, kneeling, his own cock heavy and hurting.
Chris moved close again, one hand trailing down Vin's back. The touch wasn't light, but it wasn't heavy either, the same sort of stroke he used gentling his horse. "On your hands and knees," he said, his voice low and thready, like he wanted this. Like he wanted Vin.
It'd been a long time, maybe too long, since Vin had let himself be this vulnerable. Since he'd trusted someone enough to want this, to offer it.
He closed his eyes but did as he was told, balancing on his hands and knees. The bed shifted as Chris climbed up behind him, his legs brushing over Vin's. As the bed shifted with the new weight, Vin spread his knees a little more, not thinking about the move until he heard Chris draw a sharp breath and mutter, "Damn."
But before he could look over his shoulder, Chris' hand was on him again, this time rubbing over the curve of his ass and down one thigh before moving back up. Something cool hit his inner leg, followed a second later by the smell of the lanolin, and that was his warning before fingers edged into his private space, seeking.
He tensed at the touch, despite himself, his body having its own memories.
"Easy," Chris said, but he didn't slow his search, one finger finding the opening and pressing in.
Vin willed himself to let it happen, to relax. Only at first, he reminded himself, it hurts worst at first, let it happen, don't fight it.
"Jesus," Chris whispered, the sound long and soft. "How long since . . ."
Vin took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. "You want to talk or fuck?" he asked, but he kept his voice low.
His answer was another finger in him, stretching, then a third. It stung, but it was also starting to feel good, his body starting to like the way Chris was working him, his mind liking the fact that it was Chris.
Chris, who he had been wanting to get here, maybe not in a bed but naked and with him, since that first night in the Seminole village. Chris, who was the first person he'd let himself care about in - a long time.
Chris, who was slowing down, then pulling his fingers out, the heat of him moving away.
Vin turned looking over his shoulder, not sure what to think when he saw Chris sitting on the side of the bed, an arm over his eyes. He was shivering, making noises that at first made Vin think he was choking, until Chris fell back onto the bed, his face still covered, and his chest rising and falling in an pattern that was unmistakable.
"Chris?" he asked, wondering what in the hell he had done now.
Chris waved his other hand wildly, but in a 'go away' manner, and Vin caught himself, aware of what was happening.
Chris was - Chris was - the thought of it scared him a little. The idea that Chris could break like this was not just new but something he couldn't accept, not at first.
He swallowed, looking away as the quiet, personal sounds slowly faded, not sure what to do, certainly not what to say. He sat, his legs over the side of the bed, his want cooling. His body did too, and even though it was stuffy in the room, he found himself shivering a little. Because he was naked, he knew. Naked and soon to be ashamed of himself for letting it get this far. Because Chris would be coming to his senses, whenever he got past this fit, and would be seeing how stupid this was, how dangerous, and wondering exactly what kind of fool Vin was.
He pulled himself together, thinking to get up, to find his pants and save them both the trouble of having to face this, when a hand on his leg stopped him. Chris still had his face covered, but he was calmer, his breathing more even. Vin waited, not sure where this was going, not sure where he wanted it to go now. Chris was no longer in the mood either, his cock half-hard in its nest of yellow curls.
After a minute or so, Chris spoke, his voice wet and hollow. "Ain't you. I just . . . I'm tracking the man who killed my family, and I'm here in a cheap hotel room fucking a man 'cause I'm too pissed to think straight."
Vin let the words roll around in his head, holding his anger back while he played them through. Hard to argue with the whole idea, as he'd had the thought himself.
He pulled his leg free of Chris' hand and got his feet under him, walking the few steps to his pants. As he bent over to pick up his socks, Chris called, "Vin?"
The bed made a little creaking noise as Chris shifted, and Vin glanced back to find him leaning up on one elbow, wiping at his face, which was blotchy and damp in the lamplight.
He grabbed his pants up, shaking them out. "If you don't want this, ain't much need in me - "
"Didn't say I didn't want it." Chris voice was rough, still thick with his pain.
Vin stared at him. He'd seen Chris in a lot of different moods, angry, drunk, irrational, even a little crazy, but he'd never seen him this contrary.
Chris must have known his mind; before Vin could find words, the other man snorted and continued, "Guess I ain't making any sense, am I." He sighed, scrubbing at his face, but he didn't back down. "I know you ain't someone I can just fuck and leave. Guess that's part to it. I can't . . . I don't know what I'm doing here, with you. All I can think about is Sarah and Adam, and that bastard Fowler and why he did it."
Vin sighed. He'd been hoping they could go without ever having this conversation, without ever having to own up to all of it. He should have known better, though. "Thought you were here with me to forget all that," he said. "Guess I ain't doing such a good job of it."
"Ain't you, Vin," Chris said softly, and held out his hand. "Or maybe it is, but not in the way you think."
Vin's fingers toyed with the thick knit of his socks, his mind worrying on this, thinking that he needed to be getting into some clothes. But Chris kept talking, his hand still resting there in the air between them.
"Maybe I ain't drunk enough for the memories to go away. They keep getting jumbled up in my head, keep coming up when I don't need for 'em to. Like just now, I was looking at you, what I was doing to you, and all I could see was Fowler's glove."
That would put someone off, Vin thought, and he sighed again. "It's all right," he said, but he tossed the socks back down, taking a step back to the bed. "I understand."
Chris lifted his head, then, looking at Vin directly. He started to say something, but stopped, and Vin waited, curious. Chris didn't talk a lot, but it wasn't like him not to talk when he had something to say.
Whatever it was, though, never came. Instead, Chris' hand caught at Vin's wrist. Vin didn't resist, letting himself be drawn the space between them, Chris' hand sliding further up his arm as he got closer.
The smell of lanolin again, reminder of where that hand had been and what it had been doing, then those fingers were on Vin's shoulder, guiding him, and he knew what Chris wanted. Maybe a reminder of Sarah this time, he thought, but he pushed it away as fast as it had come; didn't matter what sparked it, it was what Chris wanted and that was what he had come here to do. Didn't matter than he was going to his knees on this rough floor.
Besides, hadn't he been wondering what Chris would taste like?
Salt, of course, and sweat from the hot days, the heat of the saddle, and a little bitter from the slickness it had already spent. Not as bad as some men Vin had tasted, he reminded himself as his tongue swiped over the loose skin. But it was growing now, perking back up with interest as Vin's tongue worked on it. The hiss Chris gave at the first lick let Vin know that he was having some interest again too.
Soon as it was stretched long and hot, Vin used his fingers to lift it from the base, so he could catch the first new drop of clear want, letting it drip onto his tongue before he took the head past his lips.
Chris moaned, the sound of it making Vin's own cock twitch. The hand on his shoulder pushed, and Vin tensed, not willing to be forced.
But Chris eased off, the hand dropping to stroke along Vin's back, and Vin took more into his mouth. It was a pleasure, really, something he didn't mind doing and even enjoyed, when it was on his terms and not someone else's.
He worked for a while, sucking and drawing Chris' cock in and out as he wanted. Every now and then, Chris would moan again, or his fingers would wind in Vin's hair and pull or scrape along his skin enough to hurt, but all Vin had to do was stop moving, and the hand would relax.
Different, Vin knew, from the first time at the village, where Chris had been rough and hard and indifferent, a man with another man, doing what needed to be done. Different from how this had started tonight, with Chris angry and needing to forget. This time, Vin was in control, Chris letting him do what he wanted.
What he wanted.
On his knees, his hair hanging long down his back, he wondered if Chris was thinking on someone else, one of the women he liked to bed. Maybe that was why Chris was being nice, now, not pushing it, maybe from this angle, Vin reminded him of Maria - more likely, Lydia, they had similar hair.
The thought made him gag a little, the thought that he was doing this and Chris was thinking about someone else. There was a way to take care of that, though.
He took Chris' cock as deep as he could, the thick head driving to the opening of his throat and just a little past before he slowly pulled back, his tongue fluttering along the underside then up over the slit as he pulled away and sat up.
Chris was breathing fast and shallow, tight with need, Vin knew, but his eyes blinked open as Vin rose, then got to his knees on the bed, reaching for the forgotten tin of lanolin.
"What are you doing?" The words were deep and airy, Chris having a hard time getting his mouth to work.
Vin answered by dragging his fingers through the mix which he applied directly to the erection still covered with his spit. Chris' noise was louder at this touch, more like a cry than a groan.
There was one thing he could do that wasn't gonna bring back any memories for Chris, and that same thing would make it damned hard for Chris to confuse him with someone else.
Smearing the lanolin on Chris didn't take long, and he didn't worry about himself - Chris had been doing that earlier when all this had started. Chris was looking up, though, as Vin straddled his thighs, his hand still working Chris' cock.
"You ever fucked a man like this, Chris?" Vin asked, letting go of Chris enough to lean up, his knees inching forward, so that he was over Chris' cock.
Chris swallowed, his eyes wide as he stared up at Vin. "You ain't gotta . . ."
Vin reached behind him now, taking the cock into his hand even as he spread his thighs a little, lowering himself. "I know I ain't gotta. That's why I'm doing it."
Chris might have started to answer, but whatever he'd intended to say became a gasp as the tip of his cockhead snugged into position. Vin swallowed, then carefully pushed himself down.
It hurt. He had known it would, had expected it, but the sharpness of it surprised him, the burn scorching up his spine to explode in his head.
"Vin?" The sound barely penetrated the fire in his head, but the hands on his hips did, the way they held and pulled.
He took a deep breath, made himself relax a little more, and the pain eased enough for him to open his eyes.
To find Chris' eyes a green he'd never seen before, dark and bright at the same time, like there was a candle flame somewhere behind them.
Chris wasn't trying to speak now, and Vin hadn't figured he would be, figured any chance he'd had of backing out of this was lost the second Chris was inside him. The hands on his hips weren't pushing though, just holding him steady. For now.
He flexed his thighs, rising just a little. As Chris's eyes flared in something like worry, Vin let himself slid down a little more. Chris' hold on him tightened, almost hurting, but not stopping him. His own body did that, not liking the size of what was going in.
It took a while, and he knew he was gonna be sore in the morning, his back already aching a little from the angle, his ass feeling a burn that was becoming more tolerable.
The pain wasn't too bad, though, and it was worth the way Chris looked, more wild and desperate with each inch that Vin took. The way Chris was straining not to move, not to force this.
It lasted to the last little bit, when Chris couldn't stand it anymore. Vin was almost all the way down, almost settled, ready to lift that one last time, when Chris thrust up at the same time his hands pulled down.
It hurt something fierce, enough that Vin lost track of time as he tried to sort the burn and tear into some kind of tolerable sensations.
They were just settling when something tickled across the inside of his leg, up close to his balls, and he looked down to find Chris stroking him lightly with his fingertips, even as he thrust again. This time, the pain lessened, his body adjusting, but it was still more pain than pleasure and he gasped, bending forward.
"Easy," Chris whispered, "easy, Vin." But fingers were still moving, back and forth on his inner leg, tickling the hairs there, tickling that strange place where -
The thought of it startled him, and he found himself looking back to their joining, to where his balls rested against Chris' pelvis.
"Told you," Chris said, his voice a little stronger, "I been with a few men, know how this is done. Ain't never done it like this, but I know how to make a man come alive again."
Which is what Vin's own cock was doing right now, no matter that he was still hurting. But the hurt was lessening now, maybe because his want was coming back, filling up his dick so that it was coming to stand on its own. Or maybe, as some of the Indian peoples believed, his rising dick was taking the hurt away. Either way, the end was the same: as Chris pushed into him again, his body submitted, giving way.
Chris was thinking about him, no one else, no woman, anyway. No way he could be, not when his fingers traced up the length of Vin's cock, stroking over the soft head of it, rubbing over the slit. Felt good, good enough to push the pain way back.
Vin rose a little, letting himself slide back down. Chris grunted, his eyes closing, so Vin did it again. There was something there, though, something he'd felt once or twice before if he could just get the angle . . .
He straightened up, leaned back just a little, then lifted, ignoring the pull in his thighs. As he came back down, something sparked hard inside, and he barely caught his own cry. Arching just a little hit it dead center, and the struggle to be silent was matched only by the struggle not to come too soon.
He heard things, or thought he did, other little moans and groans, some probably his, some from Chris. But it was hard, too hard, to think past the explosions that were blasting through him every time he moved. His cock throbbed with each one, and he knew that if he touched it, it would be over. But he wanted to touch it - he could think of little else in the rare instants he could think at all.
Another shift, and he thought Chris might be climbing through his body, the cock so deep inside him it seemed to be holding him up.
The cock that he wanted, the one that belonged to Chris.
Chris. He looked down, needing to make sure he wasn't imagining, and found himself staring into Chris' eyes, a gaze all for him. Chris' hands caught his hips again, and as he had at first, he held Vin in place as he thrust up, his back bowing, his muscles lined with strain. But his gaze never left Vin's, never forgot who he was.
The release was fast, too fast for him to stop. It splattered his chest and belly, hot where it landed. His back arched, and he thought he might fall, but he was held tight even as Chris thrust again.
He found himself curled over Chris, his head on Chris' chest, Chris still inside him. There were fingers in his hair, though, stroking gently, and a strong arm around his waist, keeping him still.
It felt good - better, in some ways, than the fuck itself. But he didn't let himself think on that, not now. Maybe not ever.
Chris moved then, a squeeze of his arm before he moved it away, the hand in Vin's hair falling to the bed as well.
Vin didn't wait for the words, getting his knees under him enough to pull off of Chris' body. Chris' cock came free with a tug and a dull ache that reminded Vin he was gonna hurt tomorrow. Hell, he was hurting already, but he wasn't ready to think on that either. Lot of things he didn't want to think on.
He rolled to the side, his thighs hurting a little when they came together. Chris rose as soon as Vin was clear of him, moving to the dresser with its bowl and pitcher. He wet one of the clothes, cleaning himself up, his back to Vin. He didn't say anything, but Vin didn't really notice it at first, his eyes on the body he had never seen naked before.
"You might want to dress," Chris said after a time, and Vin looked up to catch the other man's eyes in the mirror. Dark and cold now, none of the fire from earlier.
Some of that coldness settled in Vin as well; he hadn't really expected this to mean anything, but he had hoped.
He pulled himself up and off the bed, the ache becoming a more steady throb. Wetness tickled along his thighs, and he gave passing thought to cleaning up some himself before getting back into his clothes. But Chris' face looked like stone, and he suspected the temper he had been hoping to ease was just one step closer to deadly now.
For him anyway. Maybe he'd done right by the others with them.
Didn't take him long to dress, everything easy to find. He wondered if Chris' whores got the same courtesy, if, when he was stripping off their clothes, he saw fit to put them down in chairs all together. It was good, though, that he didn't have to look around. Kept him from having to look at Chris.
Chris who still stood at the dresser, tracking Vin's movements in the mirror but otherwise still as stone.
Vin let the coldness grow in him. It was like all the other times in a way, the coldness taking away the pain and anger. Usually, it was more physical hurt, some cowboy taking more than was offered, more than what Chris had done.
And it was his own damned fault, he knew. He'd wanted Chris to know it was him, and Chris had known it was him. Chris had even touched him, touched his dick, maybe not holding it or stroking it, but he'd put his fingers on it, knowing what it was. Knowing who Vin was.
Just like he knew now, waiting for Vin to get the hell out.
Bending to pull up his pants hurt, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sit to pull on his socks. That was all right, he was only going to the livery at this point, so he picked up the socks, reaching for his boots and planning to put them on barefoot.
"You ain't gotta leave," Chris said quietly, almost too quietly, 'cause it took Vin a few seconds to catch up with the words.
He turned to find Chris stepping into his own pants, but watching Vin, his eyes not as cold.
Finding words had never been his strong suit, and his tongue wasn't helping at the moment, torn between wanting to cut Chris to the bone for his contrariness and wanting to lick his boots for the sudden kindness.
"Reckon you can stay the night," Chris went on, his voice soft. "Just need to be dressed is all. Didn't mean to . . ." He looked away then, buttoning up his pants then finding his own shirt.
"Get what you was looking for?" Vin asked finally, as Chris pulled his shirt on, rolling up the sleeves.
Chris stopped moving, but didn't look up. "Reckon I got more than I was looking for."
Vin wasn't certain what to make of that, so he waited, watching the light chase along the stark lines of Chris' face as he sighed, and shifted, then moved back to the bed. He pulled back the bedclothes, pushing them to the bottom of the bed as the room was hotter with clothes on.
"You gonna stand there all night?" he asked, settling back on the pillows and closing his eyes.
Vin finally found a few words. "You mind if I take a spot near the window?"
Chris blinked his eyes open. "Thought you might sleep here," he said, patting the mattress beside him. "Like I said, Buck ain't gonna be back."
Vin shook his head, but he carefully settled himself back on the bed, making sure to keep some distance between them. His pants pulled in a few places, and he wished he'd taken a second or two to clean up a little. Turning on his side, his back to Chris, he drew one leg up, the burn in his ass easing some.
"Gotta find him soon," Chris mumbled, and the bed shifted a little. "Can't afford to get used to this." His voice was a little louder, letting Vin know he had rolled onto his side as well. It was the only warning he got before long fingers slid back into his hair, combing it gently along his back. "Long day tomorrow," Chris said, "best sleep while we can."
But the fingers were still pulling through his hair, and Vin didn't move, didn't say anything, letting himself drift off to the unfamiliar touch.*&*&*&*&*
"Think we should split up," Chris announced flatly, but quietly, glancing around the restaurant where they were eating breakfast.
Vin sipped at his coffee, surprised, but not letting it show. He'd made sure he was up and gone before daylight, before Chris awoke, but it had been hard to leave the bed, what with Chris' hand warm against his back, several strands of his hair caught in it. He'd been afraid that Chris would wake as he'd tried to pull free, but the calloused fingers had uncurled a little more and he'd only lost a few hairs.
Chris had come in last, later even than Ezra who was sulking in his own coffee, but instead of growling orders at them the way he had the last few days, Chris had sat down, had coffee and even ordered breakfast before making this announcement.
"Think we'll cover more ground, talk to more people, maybe actually find something."
Vin watched as glances were exchanged amongst his friends, knowing they were all as surprised as he was, and not sure whether to be happy or not at this change. Wasn't like they hadn't all said the same thing over the past two days of looking.
"Two groups," Chris continued, "want everybody watching everybody else's back."
They chattered some more about the plan, the little guy asking questions that tested Chris' patience, but unlike the past several mornings, Chris didn't ever reach for his gun, just snarled a couple of times before Josiah and Nathan dragged the reporter out the door.
When JD opened his mouth to fill in the sudden silence, Buck said, "Why don't you got make sure the horses are ready?"
JD was getting smart enough to know when to leave, and he only hesitated a second or two before nodding.
Vin rose as well. "Give you a hand," he said, ignoring the protests of his body. He'd had time to clean up and change this morning before the others got going, found that there was a little blood, but not enough to worry on. He'd had worse.
Now, it was mostly muscles protesting, and he could ignore that.
As they walked out the door, heading across the street toward the livery, JD asked, "You think Chris is coming around? That's the first time he's agreed to splitting up."
Vin shrugged. "Maybe. Or he's figured something else out," he said, more to himself than to JD.
"Like what?" JD asked. "Think he remembered who Fowler is?"
Vin shrugged. "Doubt it. Think he'd have said so. But he's thinking something, and he'll let us know what it is when he's ready."
"Well, he sure seems to be in a better mood today," JD said. "Hope it lasts."*&*&*&*&*
"That's insane, even for Mr. Larabee. I cannot believe that you would condone such a plane, to leave him here on his own while we -"
"Ride out and sneak back into town," Vin said quietly, looking around. They were in the boarding house, him and Ezra, alone, talking about Chris' plan. "Look, I ain't right happy about it either, you know I don't like to leave him. But if he's right, and I think he probably is, then Fowler ain't gonna come out with all of us hanging around. He's only gonna come after Chris if he thinks Chris is here alone and easy to take down." A thought that had him worried too, but he couldn't voice that. This was Chris' plan, and Chris had come to him with it first. Whatever else had happened last night, Chris had let himself start thinking about this thing with Fowler, instead of just feeling the anger.
Ezra was watching him. "You seriously believe this will work?"
Vin looked out the window for a few seconds, then turned back. "If Fowler's here and he's waiting to get Chris alone, this is the way to do it. Sometimes to trap a hunter, you got to give him the bait."
Ezra nodded, once. "Perhaps you are correct. I still don't approve, but I can't argue that it would be a welcome change to have something happen in this situation. I, for one, would welcome a return to a less brutal and," he slapped his jacket, dust rising from it in a cloud, "less loathsome way of life."
Vin shook his head. "Chris is telling Buck the plan, and I'm gonna tell Josiah and Nathan, but ain't no need in telling the little feller yet. Don't need Fowler getting word of the plan. We're meeting back in the livery shortly, riding out now."
Ezra arched one eyebrow, but he smiled a little. "You may trust in my discretion, Mr. Tanner, in this and in all things."
Something in the way he said it bothered Vin, but he let it go, choosing instead to head toward the door of the bedroom.
"I wish to commend you, Mr. Tanner," he said as Vin grabbed the doorknob. "Whatever magic you worked on Mr. Larabee seems to be helping. Not only did he not threaten any dire retributions upon any of us today, he also has come up with a course of action. I trust that whatever you sacrificed was worth it?"
Vin stiffened, refusing to think about what Ezra was suggesting. Refusing to let Ezra get to him.
"You got something needs saying, Ez?" he asked. "Man might think that, given the way you were talking last night."
He met Ezra's eyes, waiting.
After a while, Ezra sighed. "You and Mr. Larabee know each other very well," he said softly. "There are some who might worry that you know each other too well."
Vin didn't stop the smile that found his own face. "Would those be the same worriers who send me to watch out for him when they can't take it any more?"
"Touché," Ezra tilted his head. "But the point remains the same. Some might wonder about the nature of your relationship with Mr. Larabee."
Vin shrugged. "Some might wonder about you and your ma." As he expected, Ezra stiffened. "Reckon people are always gonna think things that ain't no concern of theirs."
He turned back to the door, but Ezra had to have the last word. "It might become their concern, though, if it becomes too obvious. Be careful, Vin. There are more concerns here than just your own."
Vin looked back over his shoulder. "Maybe we should wait to cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it." But he met Ezra's eyes and nodded, thankful for the straight talk. "Don't be long. We need to get this started if we want to draw Fowler out tonight."*&*&*&*&*
The only good thing about it was that Chris' plan worked, Vin thought as he wiped sweat from his face. That, and there had been enough witnesses to Chris yelling to Buck not to kill Fowler that everyone believed the fire to be an accident. Took them the rest of the night to get it out - and to keep it from spreading to the other buildings in Eagle Bend, and by the time it was down to hulking, smoking embers, they were exhausted, covered in smoke and ash, and Chris was - Chris was gone.
"Fowler's dead," Buck said to Vin and Ezra as they stood staring at the ruins. Josiah and Nathan were talking to the locals, making nice and smoothing what they could. Ezra would help out too, if it was needed, but for now, things seemed to be all right. They'd played straight with the sheriff since this started, even before they'd come back from Purgatorio. They'd asked for help searching, explaining what they were looking for and why, and the bartender's story about what had happened, about Fowler's words to Chris, had covered them for a lot. "Chris said he went back into the burning barn, killed himself instead of telling Chris who hired him."
Vin sighed, sticking the shovel he'd been using upright into the hard dirt of the roadway. They'd dug a firebreak around the burning building, trying to save the rest of the town from catching. It was a good thing the air had been still; they'd been able to put out any small fires starting before they took.
"Well, that demonstrates a sort of integrity," Ezra said, rolling his head on his shoulders. "I suspect our fearless leader might be of a different opinion however."
Buck looked behind them, down the road. Dawn was beginning to break, the first light streaking the dark sky. "It's all too close to him," Buck said quietly. "Bad enough that he found the man who killed Sarah and Adam, but then to lose him the same way they died . . ."
His words faded off and Vin felt a chill even though he was still sweating through his clothes. Seemed like the night with Chris was a thousand years ago, and he knew it might be about that long before he ever had a chance at another. "Any idea where he went?" he asked.
"Yeah," Buck said and he turned to meet Vin's gaze. "Reckon I do. But right now, don't none of us, even me, need to follow him there. When he's ready to come back, he will."
Vin nodded, which seemed to surprise Buck. "You think with Fowler out of the way, Chris is safe?"
Buck shifted from one foot to the other, his shoulders slumping a little. "Don't guess any of us thought of that," he said. "You think I should go after him?"
Vin turned and looked down the road as well, into the dawn. He had a pretty good idea himself where Chris had gone, and he figured that right now, he was about the last person Chris would want to see at his wife's grave. "Yeah," he sighed, wiping at his face again. "I reckon one of us should, and you'd be more welcome than I would."
He turned back, then, in time to see the look that passed between Ezra and Buck.
"Something I need to know, Vin?" Buck asked.
Vin smiled, but he wasn't amused. "Reckon you think you know everything, don't you?" He spit to one side, dust and ash, and as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, he saw Buck shake his head. Vin sighed. "It's been a long day and I ain't in no mood to dance around whatever it is that you two are worrying on. For now, seems like Chris could stand somebody to watch his back, reckon you're less likely to get shot than I am."
Buck and Ezra looked at each other again, and Vin waited, wondering how he was going to handle what he figured they wanted to talk about. Wasn't like they hadn't walked out on Chris last night, leaving Vin to take care of him. But he knew better than to think they'd accept any part in what had happened.
It all came down to the one thing he'd known it would: what he felt for Chris. It wasn't like they knew, wasn't even like they really cared. It just mattered that it didn't fit into their way of thinking.
Until last night, they'd had nothing to hold against him anyway.
But the time wasn't now. Buck sighed himself but shook his head. "I'd best get after Chris, then," he said. "Don't know how long we'll be but we'll probably head on to Four Corners from here. Don't think there's much need in us coming back. If there is, Josiah and Nate will know where to look."
Vin nodded, pulling his shovel back out of the ground and looking at the burning embers. Most of the crowd was heading home or somewhere, some over to the saloon which was still open, and the fire looked to be out. He nodded once as he walked past Ezra, an acknowledgement, and Ezra nodded back.
He hadn't lied, he was tired, damned tired. They all were.
"Vin?"
He stopped at the call, sighing again, but turning to his left.
Nathan was moving toward him, leaving Josiah with a group of the locals. "Sheriff wants us to stay around today while he checks some things. You got any idea where Chris is?"
"Buck says you and Josiah will know," he answered. "Reckon we can stand a day to catch some rest before we head back." A day that maybe Chris would calm down and talk them. To him.
"I'm gonna head over to the hotel," he said, rolling his shoulders. They hurt more than his ass right now. "Clean up some, lay down if you don't mind."
Nathan nodded. "We'll be along soon, I hope."
Vin nodded, moving past Josiah, letting Nathan's hand touch his shoulder.
But as he stretched out on the floor, covering his eyes with his hat to keep out the rising sun, all the things he didn't want to think on came rushing back, crowding into the dreams he usually didn't remember. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he forced himself up, making his way quietly from the room where Josiah and Nathan slept in the bed.
A bed like the one he had shared with Chris in what was the dumbest thing he'd done yet.---fin---