The Bleeding Moon
Vin heard his horse's quiet nicker of greeting, but kept his eyes trained on the vista before him. The sun was just sinking behind the distant mountains, leaving behind fading bands of orange and purple. The mountains themselves were black, backlit silhouettes that cast long fingers of shadow over the open country. He scanned the land before him, but his attention was on Chris's approach. When the older man had settled beside him, Vin chanced a quick glance at him. Chris's face was closed, his mouth tight--a sure sign that the ex-gunfighter was in an unpleasant mood.
"Anything?" Chris asked, his tone neutral, while he pulled out a cheroot and lit it. The sharp smell of the tobacco drifted on the light breeze and tickled Vin's nose. Chris smoked only rarely now, yet another sign of the way the town had affected him. Had affected all of them.
Vin sighed, then finally answered. "Nope."
"Then most likely they won't be here tonight." Chris took another long drag of tobacco, and blew it out again. "Looks like we get another night."
"Yup."
They sat and watched the fading sunset, each absorbed in his own thoughts, each content to feel the support of the other. Vin couldn't remember how many times the two of them had shared his big boulder on the top of a rise to the east of Four Corners. When the press of people in town got to be too much for him, when he just needed to hear his own breathing and smell nothing but sage and pine, this was most often where he ended up. On occasion, Chris would show up, too, and take his own seat on the rock. Sometimes they talked, but more often they just shared the silence. Finally Vin shifted on the outcrop.
"I've gotten used to this rock," he said quietly. Chris glanced at his companion in mild surprise. He was used to Vin's taciturn nature, even enjoyed it. When the younger man talked, most often his words were brief and to the point, referring to something they had to do. Occasionally, some tidbit of the blond drifter's past slipped out, but it was almost unknown for Vin to talk about what he was feeling. With the situation they found themselves in now, he had expected no conversation at all.
"Eight months we've been here," Vin continued. "I've gotten used to more than the rock. Hell, when we leave, I'm going to have more stuff than I can fit into my saddlebags. Can't remember the last time that happened."
He slanted a grin over at his friend but Chris could see a pained flicker in the clear eyes behind their familiar, good-natured mockery. "We've all gotten used to it," he agreed.
"I liked that," Vin continued. "I liked seeing the same faces each day. I liked knowing what I'm going to have for breakfast every day at the restaurant." He sighed deeply. "I can't remember the last time I spent eight months in the same bed." He ran a hand over his chin. "When I leave here I'm probably going to fall right back into what I was doing before I landed here."
"We're all going to miss something," Chris answered.
Vin turned a startled face to his friend. "Hell, Chris, I'm sorry. I don't have no right to be pissing about this. Not when..." His voice trailed off. Even under the stress of their imminent departure, he couldn't mention the widow's name, or the growing relationship Chris was falling into. It would take a blind man not to see what was happening, but it was something that none of them talked about, not after Buck had opened his big mouth the first time and almost had his tongue cut out for his efforts.
"You got a right," Chris assured him. "This place, it gets under your skin."
Vin nodded in agreement. When Chris said nothing further, he allowed the silence to stretch. Night began to settle over them, darkness spreading downward from the upper sky while the moon, red tinged and bloated, began its stately rise. With the disappearance of the sun, the day's warmth faded quickly. The surrounding countryside was being swallowed up by the darkness, but Vin continued to gaze at the landscape, trying to burn the vista into his memory. It was nothing special, he mused, just a long view of land and trees, with the mountains rising stately in the distance. It was fine to see, but no finer than many other places he'd been. So why did the sight of it make him ache somewhere deep inside, somewhere he didn't even know he could hurt?
"It's home," he finally said, more to himself than to the friend who grunted quietly in agreement. "That's something I haven't had in a long, long time. I guess eight months is long enough to put down roots." Careful not to look over at Chris, he added in an almost whipser, "I don't want to move on."
"Not like we have much choice," Chris answered. His voice sounded nonchalant, but Vin knew he was hiding how much the coming depature would rip at him. "We've got to be gone by the end of the week at the latest."
"You could stay."
Chris shook his head. "Not likely. It's all of us that have to leave. I'm not exactly easy to miss, and I won't put the town in danger. J.D. and Buck are heading up to Oklahoma, Nathan back to the Seminoles. Ezra's talking about trying his luck in San Francisco, and who knows where the hell Josiah's headed. Christ, we're lucky we're all riding out of here. There were times I was sure we wouldn't. I can't count how many times I was sure we were going to lose J.D."
"Not if Buck had anything to say about it. I don't think I've ever seen such a mother hen with a single chick in all my days." Vin chuckled at the thought of the mismatched friends.
"Buck has a maternal instinct a mile wide," Chris agreed with a smile. "He'll stuff some common sense into that kid or die trying." His smile faded. "I'm just glad the latter didn't happen here."
"J.D.'s a scrapper," Vin added. "He's tougher to kill than he looks. Knife, guns, and cougars didn't get him. He's going to outlive us all." Emboldened by Chris's mellow, introspective mood, he finally dared to comment, "You could always ask her to go with you."
"I couldn't do that to her," Chris answered. "She's got family here, people that depend on her. She doesn't belong out there." He leaned back and stamped out the stump of his cheroot with his boot. "Best she stays."
Best for who? Vin thought, but kept his own council. The fact that Chris was willing to talk about himself and Mary was in itself a bit of a surprise, Vin wasn't about to try to push Chris into further revelations.
"'Bout time we headed down to Tuscosa, and took care of your little problem."
"Thanks," was the only answer Vin gave. It meant a lot that this man would choose to go with him and guard his back while he fought to clear his name. It also meant that one little part of his time in Four Corners would still be there.
"We had a good run here," Chris said, from the by-now-full darkness. "A state of grace. Those never last long. It's time to join the real world again. Put all this behind us and take up our old lives."
Vin stared at the rising bloody moon and, with a heavy heart, acknowledged--at least to himself--that he didn't want his old life back. He wanted the new one.
And wasn't it just too bad that what he wanted didn't make one damned bit of difference.
The End