Hitches
Follows Lesson
Chris had been watching Vin struggle with the wagon for some time now. From his chair across the muddy street, he watched again as Vin fought to get the axle he was repairing into place, hold it there, and get a pin into it. He needed another pair of hands. Finally, Chris rose and meandered over.
"You need a hand with that?" he asked the buckskinned legs sticking out from under one side of the wagon.
"You offerin'?" came the muffled reply.
"Not unless you're askin,'" Chris shot back.
"Then I ain't askin'."
Chris grinned, shook his head, leaned down, and took a hold of the axle.
"Little higher on your left. There, OK."
Vin slid out from under, rose, and nodded. "Thanks."
"You getting her ready for a trip?"
"Yep."
1 Chris waited. He had watched over the past week or so as Vin had emptied out the wagon, given away some things, burned some, and, he imagined, stashed others elsewhere. Then he had watched him repair the wagon and had heard from the man at the livery that Vin had bought a cheap pair of horses, broke to drive.
The tracker moved around the wagon, smearing thick grease into each axle, while Chris continued to wait.
Finally, he looked directly at Chris. "She ain't mine. I borrowed her a long time ago, figgered it was time I returned her."
"So where you headed?"
"I'm not headed anywhere. The coach driver said one of his men could follow the coach down to Texas long as they can use her for freight to get her there. Man that owns her can pick her up in Sweetwater. Mary sent him a telegram for me."
The gunslinger nodded. Vin wasn't going back to Texas. Not yet. He studied the old wagon. It was in sad shape, had been for a long time, and Vin's repairs, skilled though they were, hadn't helped that much.
"You borrowed this?"
"She was in a lot better shape then. Been a long time . . . guess I've had the wagon for 'bout 15 years now."
"Fifteen! How old were you?" Chris laughed.
Vin wasn't laughing. "Twelve, I think. I don't know. It was a long time ago."
"So who lends a wagon to a 12 year old?"
Vin just shook his head and smiled.
"Wanna go get a drink?"
+ + + + + + +
Nathan, Vin and Chris shared the boardwalk, waiting for the stage. One of the men made a point of meeting the stagecoach every day, just to see who was new in town, and today the three of them were bored.When the coach pulled up, only one man emerged. He was an elderly man, but large and strong.
Chris was watching him when he heard a small, surprised groan from his side.
"Oh sh*t."
It was barely audible, and Chris had to turn and look to see if it had been Nathan or Vin. One look at Vin's face told him. Vin was white and was struggling to maintain some semblance of control. Chris shot a glance back to the man near the stage, who was talking with the driver, then looked back at Vin, who was looking down at the boardwalk, fists at his side, clenched.
"Know him?"
Vin nodded.
"Bounty hunter?"
Shook his head. "Man who owns the wagon," he whispered, still looking down.
"Thought you wanted to return it to him?"
"He might have the idea I stole it."
"Why?"
"Cause I did."
Vin looked back up at the man, straightened his shoulders, looked strong, determined. Then looked at Chris. "I'll talk to him, I just ain't ready to right now."
Chris nodded. "Nathan, keep an eye on him . . .Vin and I'll be along, 'K?"
Nathan nodded and headed towards the stage.
Vin had also begun walking towards the stage. He looked up to catch Chris's questioning gaze.
"He won't know me . . . not now," he assured him, and walked up to the stage, looking right at the stranger, then continued down the boardwalk past him.
Chris followed Vin down the street, watching as his body betrayed the tension he felt. When he walked up to the livery, he grasped the rail in both hands and leaned his head onto his arms. Chris stepped up on the rail, and sat, hooking his feet into the bottom rail, and waited. Again. He smiled when it occurred to him that of his two best friends, one he was always telling to shut up, and the other he was always waiting for answers.
"He musta asked where the telegram came from. That's why he came here. Well, he can drive his own wagon home then." He forced himself to relax. Shook away the memories. He knew Chris would want information. Had to have information. Vin didn't know if this man had changed or not, and he could be dangerous. That, Vin knew for certain. He sighed.
"I was runnin' away. Didn't have time to unhitch the horses, or I'd a just took a horse. Only got twenty, thirty miles 'fore I turned the wagon over in a canyon. One horse got away from me, I never did find it, and the other one I kept runnin' on. I wasn't real good at drivin that team. Met up with a buff hunter a ways later, and he said we could use a wagon. I was real surprised when we went back and found it still there. He helped me get it runnin again, and I've left it here and there over the years, always intended to get it back to him."
He took a deep breath, and Chris waited some more.
"He's kinda mean, but he shouldn't give anyone any trouble."
"Anyone 'cept you? Don't you think he might be kinda ugly about a boy stealing his wagon? Just ride out to the shack, he'll get his wagon back and be gone."
"No. I've waited a long time to see him again."
Chris knew there was more, but he figured sooner or later, he'd get it.
"Did you see where he went?" Vin scanned the street.
"Where everyone goes. The saloon."
+ + + + + + +
The two men stepped through the doors together. Chris had the feeling Vin needed backup more today than he had during the numerous gunbattles they had shared. Vin's eyes swept the room and settled on the old man sitting near the left end of the bar. He walked directly up to him, and when he spoke, Chris' knees nearly buckled."'Lo, Grandpa."
The old man looked up into Vin's eyes, squinting slightly as if trying to determine if this was, indeed, the boy he remembered. "Well, I guess you ain't changed all that much, boy. You're still a dirty, no account thief, ain't ya? Now I hear you're a murderin bastard again, too. You killed your ma, then who else'd ya kill?"
"Lot'sa things changed, Grandpa."
Chris watched Vin as he stood before this man, his grandfather, as he listened to the ugly things he had to say. But Vin was calm, almost serene. Chris would have pulled the man to his feet and beat the living crap out of him. Vin simply listened.
"No, nothin's changed boy. I shoulda killed you a long time ago. Saved everybody else the trouble." The old man laughed. "Taught you to shoot, though, didn't I?"
"Yessir. You did. You made me what I am today, Grandpa." Something in Vin's response was sinister, and the other people in the bar began to listen and move away, as if protecting themselves from the inevitable. The old man stood up.
"I can still drop you like a rock, boy."
"No, Grandpa, I don't think so."
"Ain't no dog to protect you anymore, is there?" The old man laughed again.
"No sir. Not anymore." Vin waited. His calm demeanor was pushing the man closer and closer to the edge. "Your wagon is down the street. There's a team at the livery, paid for, you can take 'em."
"That's it? I could take you back to Texas for that bounty. That'd be owed me, at least."
Vin shook his head. "I don't think you wanta do that."
"Who's gonna stop me? You? You never stopped me before."
"I ain't twelve anymore Grandpa. And ...," Vin had to smile at this, " ...I ain't alone, anymore, neither."
Ezra, JD, and Buck rose from their table. Nathan straightened at the bar, and Chris rested his hand on the colt at his hip. The old man looked around the room.
"You and your guns, huh?"
Vin shrugged, as if to say, "Whatever," and smiled. He felt the weight of seven years of beatings and neglect and loneliness lift. He never thought it would feel this good.
The old man rose and snorted at him in disgust, but he turned, walked out the doors, and headed towards the livery.
+ + + + + + +
"So you had a dog?" Chris asked later that evening, as they lounged outside the saloon."Yep. A big ol' red shepard dog."
"What happened to it?"
"He killed it. He was teachin' me to shoot, and every time I missed he'd wop me upside the head. The dog didn't like it and took him. He killed it. And I run off."
"So that's how you got your thick head, huh?"
"Yep, I reckon."
"You should get another dog," JD broke in.
"No, don't think so, JD." Vin looked down at the wooden planks, down at the memories in his heart. "What you don't have, nobody can take from you," he told himself, very, very softly.
The End