Merry Christmas, Cowboy
Vin Tanner blocked the punch Dolf Anders threw at him, but was unable to keep from tripping across Gil Johnson at his feet. From the corner of his eye he saw Buck Wilmington catch Anders from behind and with one swing, laid the cow-puncher out cold in the dusty street. Without stopping, Buck extended his hand to Vin and pulled the smaller man to his feet. The tracker acknowledged Buck's help with a quick nod before both men headed back into the thickest part of the brawl that had broken out.
Chris Larabee saw the exchange between the two and felt a wave of gratitude wash over him for Buck's intervention. Chris had seen Vin go down, but had been occupied with yet another ranch hand and knew he would not be able to help Tanner.
With a final blow to the man he had been trading punches with for the past few moments, Chris stepped back from the fight to take stock of the whereabouts of his men and make sure that none of them were being overpowered by the rowdy ranch hands. It was taking all seven of the town's regulators to break up the fight that had started between the hands from the Reynold's Circle R ranch and the men of the Stuart James' ranch. They had to put a stop to the fight, but Chris did not want to have to use gunplay to bring things under control, if it could be avoided. It was bad enough the hands were disrupting the Saturday afternoon activities of the town, on the weekend before Christmas.
Chris took a look toward the horizon at the snow-laden clouds. A cold north wind was blowing in and dropping the temperatures. They would surely have snow before nightfall. With a sigh, he drew his gun and pointed it skyward. Better to startle a few of the townspeople now and get the cow-punchers on their way, than to let the fight continue until someone was seriously hurt.
He fired three quick shots into the air and smiled a knowing grin as the scene before him came to a sudden halt. Even his fellow regulators froze in place until they saw who had fired.
"All right, boys. You've had your fun, but enough is enough." Chris' black duster swirled around his legs as the wind picked up. His eyes narrowed and he motioned with the gun he held in his hand toward the sprawling bodies littering the street and boardwalks. "Now pick up your pards and head out."
"You cain't run us out of town, Larabee." Red Oakly stated defiantly from the middle of the street.
A glacial look from the black-clad gunfighter froze the James' hand before he could say more. "Maybe not, Oakly," Chris said with the start of a knowing smile. "You willin' to find out?"
The man paled visibly and made no further comment as Chris watched his fellow regulators pick their way through the crowd toward him.
"You boys have had your fun. But I want you out of town in ten minutes. Anyone still here after that time can spend the night in jail." He let his glare sweep across the street. "Understood?"
There were no more protests, but muttered curses could be heard as the ranch hands picked up their fallen pals and grudgingly headed for their horses. Each man knew the hard-eyed gunfighter would hold true to his words. They also knew he would be backed to the hilt by the other six peacekeepers.
Chris remained in position until the last of the cowboys had mounted and left town. When the last had disappeared from sight, he watched as Nathan finished briefly checking each of the regulators for injuries.
Nathan shook his head as the five other men headed into the town's saloon.
"How are they?" Chris asked as he watched his men from beside the healer.
A grin split Jackson's face. "Other than assorted cuts, scrapes and bruises, they're fine." His grinned widened at J.D's yelp as Buck wrapped an arm around the young man's head and pulled him into a fierce hold. They were riding a wave of high excitement after the fight. "J.D's gonna have a black eye in a while and Vin took a knock to the head. It don't look bad, but the stubborn fool won't sit down and let me have a good look at'im."
Chris shook his head and sighed. He was well acquainted with the tracker's stubbornness. "I'll keep an eye on him," he offered.
Nathan nodded in agreement and thanks as he left, knowing that Larabee was the only one of the seven that Tanner might possibly heed.
Chris gave a final survey of the street then joined his men.
Snowflakes swirled in the increasing wind as Vin silently cursed and continued to search the darkened boardwalk. It had to be there somewhere he told himself. It was the only place he could have lost it.
After their fight with the ranch hands, the seven peacekeepers had retreated to the saloon to relax. After a few minutes, J.D. had been the one to notice the first of the snowflakes and with all the enthusiasm that was typical of the kid, had began jabbering nonstop about the upcoming Christmas holiday and how it had been for him back in Boston. That had brought up remembrances from the others about their past Christmas times.
As each of the men told of their past experiences, Vin had listened quietly, feeling left out of something magical.
The only Christmas he could even begin to recall was the last one he had shared with his mother. He couldn't even remember what, if anything he had received as a present, but he did remember the Christmas tree that had been set up in the corner of the church they had attended. He wasn't sure which church or what town it had been, only that he and his ma had gone there at night and he had been amazed by the tree and how it had been set with strings of colored paper, bits of beads and colorful ribbons. But, the thing that stood out in his memory most was the shiny star that had sat at the top of the tree. It had not been long after that night that his ma had gotten sick. She had died come spring and he had been sent to an orphanage where there had been little enough food for regular meals. The possibility of having extra food, much less presents at Christmas was unthinkable.
As the years had passed, the day had become simply another in a long string of winter days to be endured until spring came around.
He had watched Chris during the recollections by the others. Typically, nothing showed on Larabee's face, but Vin was willing to bet his last nickle that Chris had not acknowledged the holiday since the death of his wife and son. Vin shook his head silently. Better to not remember enough to know what you might be missing than to have a lifetime of memories and lose everything.
He pushed the thoughts away and continued his search.
After a moment more of frustration and no luck, he leaned against the building and sighed heavily. Where could it have gotten to? He eyed the increasing snowfall and the alley. Maybe it had scooted across the walkway into the alley and had been covered by snow. He pushed himself upright. With the way the snow was coming down, if he didn't find it soon it would be several days before he could search again with any hope of finding the thing.
The soft scuff of a boot on board brought his warning senses on alert. Swiftly he faded into the increasing darkness, reaching for the weapon at his side.
"Vin?" a voice called softly to him.
"Damn you, Larabee," Vin cursed with an irritated rasp. "You're gonna get shot doin' somethin' like that one o' these days." Chris had surprised him and through the dim light, he could see the flash of white teeth as a rare grin graced the gunfighter's face. "Damned no-account..."
"What are you lookin' for out here?" Larabee cut him off.
Vin turned his head away from his friend as the pounding of his heart returned to a normal beat. He had been caught by surprise and that troubled him. It was the quickest way he knew to get himself killed. "Nothin'," he told Chris in a clipped voice.
He saw Larabee's eyes narrow as he cocked his head. "Nothin'?" The usually somber man asked then frowned. "You're lookin' might hard for nothin'," he remarked.
Vin felt the heat of a blush rise in his face and he was thankful it was getting dark. "Ain't nothin' impo'ant."
"If you say so." Chris said, disbelief clear in his tone. He knew whatever it was his friend was looking for had some meaning to him. Vin seldom did anything without reason and his current search had been intense enough to allow Chris to come up on him unnoticed. A deadly lapse like that was not normal for the young tracker. Tanner might not want to tell him what was going on, but Chris would stay close to watch his back just the same.
Slowly he pulled a cheroot from his pocket and struck a match to it. Chris narrowed his eyes as a gust of snow-ladened wind blew the smoke back into his face. Maybe he should shoot Tanner himself.
"My mouth harp."
The voice was so soft that at first Chris thought it had been his imagination. "What?"
"My mouth harp, my harmonica. I lost it."
Chris blinked into the darkness, at a loss for words. He had never heard Tanner actually play the blasted thing, only blow air through it, creating a disorganized jumble of notes, but he suspected the sharpshooter was capable of playing it if he chose. For the most part, he seemed to derive some sort of perverse pleasure out of tormenting each of his fellow peacekeepers with the disjointed attempts. But at the same time, the harmonica held some special meaning to Vin, even if he had never told any of them what that might be.
"So you lost it out here?"
"It's the only thing I can figure. When I fell over that cowboy this afternoon, it must have slid outta my pocket," he said searching the shadows again. "I...."
Both men were stopped by the faint, but distinct sound of a harmonica being blown, in much the same manner Vin did. They exchanged looks and followed the sound into Mrs. Potter's General Store.
As they entered, they were greeted by the smiling face of Mary Travis. "Mr. Larabee," she said politely. "Mr. Tanner."
Vin nodded silently to her and remained by the door, watching Mary's son, but Chris acknowledged her with a tip of his hat. "Mrs. Travis," he said making his way around the store's counters to join her at the pot-bellied stove where she stood warming her hands. "You're out late this evening."
"Yes. Well, I had some late work to finish up at the paper and Mrs. Potter was kind enough to stay late for me." She lowered her voice and sent a secretive glance toward the far corner of the store. "Something I ordered came in on today's stage."
Chris' eyes followed her line of direction to Billy as he stared longingly at the candy jars along the top of a counter. An ache rose to clutch at his heart. She was picking up a present she had ordered her son for Christmas. Chris remembered doing the same thing for Adam not too many years ago.
Billy turned slightly, rocking with childish impatience, and Chris saw a glint of light flash from the child's chest. A second flash confirmed his suspicion that the boy held Vin's harmonica clutched tightly in his hand. Chris looked quickly around the store and saw Tanner still standing near the door, staring intently at Billy.
Mary also saw Vin's stance and with a quick look to her son, moved around Chris as Billy blew on the music piece once more. By the time she reached Vin's side, she realized what Billy was clutching and that somehow her son had come into possession of the tracker's harmonica. "Billy, honey...," she began as she started around Tanner to retrieve the instrument.
She was surprised when Vin stopped her with a quick hand to her arm and a brief, wordless shake of his head.
Mary stopped and looked at him curiously. Vin usually avoided physical contact with everyone. But, she trusted the seven peacekeepers and knew they would not harm her or her son, so she waited
She felt Chris move to stand beside her as Vin advanced on Billy.
"What'cha got there, pard?" the Texas asked in a soft drawl as he knelt beside the boy.
Billy Travis turned wide eyes on Vin as a smile lit his face. "Look, Vin," he grinned. "I got one too."
"One what, Billy?" he asked softly.
The child held out the harmonica.
"I got a harmonica, just like yours. I made a Christmas wish and it came true." The joy on the child's face was evident as he looked lovingly at the instrument. He clutched the prize to his chest and leaned toward Vin with a conspiratorial whisper. "Now you can teach me and we can play a game on Chris together," he said with a grin.
Vin Tanner's eyes flicked briefly toward the gunfighter before returning to Billy. "We sure can," he said quietly.
Billy looked at the harmonica once more before turning wide eyes on Tanner. "Where's your's, Vin?"
The young man held his voice steady and smiled at the child with the lop-sided grin that graced his face far to rarely. "Mine? Well, ya see, Billy, mine's back at my wagon," he hurried on when disappointment filled Billy's eyes. "When we took on them desperados this afternoon I didn't want ta take the chance on losin' it, so I left it there." He paused before continuing. "Where'd you get your's?" He asked gently.
Billy looked up at him. "I told you. I made a Christmas wish."
"Well. Them's about the finest wishes there is. That sure 'nuff makes it special, don't it?"
The boy nodded, holding the battered harmonica to his chest. "Yeah. Real special. Ya see...I already asked Mrs. Potter if she had any harmonicas and she's all out, but while ago, I was outside watchin' for my momma and there it was. Just layin' there, waitin' on me."
Vin clinched his teeth. No matter what the harmonica meant to him, there was no way he was going to take it away from Billy. He smiled at the boy as he stood up. "Then I guess someone heard your wish, Billy, and it was meant to be." He paused briefly. "You take good care of it and it'll be a friend to ya for a long time."
Billy grinned up at the tracker. "I will, Vin." He turned to throw a quick glance toward Chris and his mother, then leaned closer to Vin once more. "When can we play a game on Chris?" he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"Soon, Billy. Real soon." Tanner patted the boy's shoulder, before heading for the door of the store.
Chris nodded his goodbye to Mary and hurriedly followed Vin out the door. The young man had not stopped outside, but instead was halfway down the street heading for the livery stable.
"Vin," Chris called softly, but the sharpshooter kept walking. ~Damn you, Tanner.~ He cursed as he trailed after the tracker. "Vin. Wait up."
Tanner finally came to a halt in the middle of the street, snow swirling around him. He turned to face Chris and waited.
"Where you goin'?" the gunfighter asked him.
"Got a horse needs lookin' after," Vin told him without hesitation.
Chris came to a stop beside him, his eyes searching. He knew for a fact that Vin had settled his horse an hour ago and he had made no mention of any problem with the animal. Chris knew he was running as far as he could from the incident in the store without leaving town. "Buy you a drink?" He asked finally.
Vin did hesitate this time, but after a barely perceptible nod of his head, he headed for the saloon. Chris shook his head in resignation and fell into step with Tanner. The Texan was a man of few words at the best of times. He was damn near mute when he had something on his mind.
Larabee knew Vin had very few possessions, he had never had much in his life to begin with, but no matter how little the tracker possessed, there was no way in hell he would have taken the harmonica from Billy Travis. Vin had experienced having something, everything, taken away from him as a child and he would not inflict that type of hurt on the boy.
Chris felt his heart ache for his friend. Vin had taken the loss of his prized harmonica as he had everything else in his young life; with a quiet acceptance.
As the saloon door swung shut behind him, Chris wondered if the general store in Eagle Bend carried harmonicas.
~Christmas Day~
Vin Tanner made his way back to his wagon to put away the new shirt his friends had given him that morning at breakfast. It had been quite a spell since he had bought himself one and looking down at the tattered edges of the faded brown shirt he wore, he supposed it was beginning to tell. He touched the dark blue material and a smile crossed his face. He was sure partial to that color. It reminded him of the dark color on a jay's feathers when the sun struck it just right. He would save the shirt till spring. It would be nice to have a new shirt to carry him through summer.
"Vin! Vin!" The child's excited shout startled him out of his thoughts.
Vin absently laid the shirt inside the wagon before turning to meet Billy Travis' charge toward him. He stooped to one knee as the boy reached him.
"Look, Vin!" he said, holding up a harmonica. Tanner looked close at the shiny object a moment before he realized it was not his old one Billy had found in the snow several days ago. He frowned in confusion. "Santa brought me a brand new one," he smiled at the tracker. "Momma said he must have traded it for the old one I found."
Vin could not even begin to explain what had happened, but Billy was happy and that was all that mattered. "That's right nice, Billy," he said. "I'll bet it sounds real purty."
Billy nodded his head as he held the musical instrument in both hands with a loving look. "It does, Vin. The best." The boy grinned up at him a moment. "I'll bet when we play a game on Chris, it'll sound even better now."
"I'll bet you're right, pard," he smiled. "Ol' Chris don't know what's in store for him." Vin could not help but smile at the small boy. He figured he would be sorry he ever told Billy about his deliberately annoying blowing on the harmonica to irritate Chris. Larabee now knew what he was up to and Vin figured he could expect retaliation sooner or later.
"I got to go, Vin," Billy told him, turning to leave. "I"ll see you later at dinner. 'Kay?" He stopped and turned to give the tracker a stern look. "You didn't forget, did you?"
Vin smiled at him once more. "No. I didn't forget, Billy. I'll be there." Billy gave him a smile and hurried away. "Save me a biscuit," he called after the disappearing boy.
For several seconds after Billy left, Vin remained motionless, torn between anger, confusion and a deep sense of loss. What had happened to his harmonica? He would have to ask Chris if he had a hand in the switch pulled on Billy.
As the solemn young man pulled the flap back on his wagon, he froze and every instinct he had came instantly to full alert. Someone had been at his wagon. He silently swept the surrounding area with his keen hearing, but could hear nothing out of place. Carefully he scanned the interior of the old wagon, but could not see where anything had been disturbed. Finally, his eyes came to rest on the flash of red that had caught his eye and he breathed easier.
A slow smile spread across his face as he picked up his battered old harmonica and touched the red ribbon tied around its middle.
The End