The Guilty

by Mods

// = Thoughts

//Where the hell was Vin?//
Chris crouched down behind some crates just as a bullet struck the wood where his head had been a second before. A shower of tiny splinters stung his cheek, and he cursed under his breath. There was no way he was gonna get to the shooter from here, this was a bad position. He knew he'd have to circle around and make a run for it. With every step he could hear bullets strike the wall behind him, but then he dodged around the corner and was out of reach. He moved quickly along the back street and came across a stairway that had to lead up to where the gunman was.
//Where the HELL was Vin?//
Chris hadn't seen him since they rode into White Rabbit Creek, just moments before the gunfight had started. He really had no idea where Vin could be, and that threw him a bit. There had been a time when he wouldn't even have had to ask; he'd have known. Their instincts had been the same, from then first time they'd met, and he could mostly count on Vin to move in the same direction as him.
But everything was different now, had been different for months, ever since they'd come back from Gila Flats.
They'd never spoken a word about what had happened when they'd faced each other on that dusty street, but Chris didn't need to hear it out loud. He knew anyway; he lived with it every day.
He'd shot Vin.
It was still hard for him to grasp sometimes, when he really thought about it. So he didn't think much about it. But one thing was clear to him. Perfectly clear. Vin didn't trust him any longer, and he couldn't blame Vin for that.
Chris crept up the stairs as quietly as he could, opened the door silently and slipped in like just another shadow. The room inside was large and dark; it looked like it was a large attic used for storage. He could hear the gunman in front of him, still hidden from view by a dividing wall. He moved up towards the opening in the wall, risking a quick look into the other space. Good. The shooter was still concentrating on what was happening down on the street. Suddenly, there came a noise from under the floorboards, and the shooter turned around, quickly moving towards a large hatch in the floor. He waited with his rifle ready, and his whole focus on the hatch to see if it was moving. Chris took this opportunity to step forward into the room, raising his gun.
He must have made some sound for he could see the rifle suddenly swing in his direction as the man started to turn towards him. At the same time he could see movement behind the shooter.
Someone was there, rising from a position behind some crates. Vin.
It was Vin. And he was directly in Chris's line of fire. Chris froze with his finger on the trigger. His mind went blank as time seemed to slow down; and, for a brief moment, he became fully aware of everything around him.
The light was falling in through the window, and he could see dust particles float in the air, glittering as they turned and caught the sun. He could see a flash of triumph in the gunman's eyes. He could see Vin's eyes, suddenly wide with fear when he realized that Chris wasn't firing, just as the gunman tightened his finger on the trigger.
Suddenly the spell was broken, and Chris threw himself to the side, firing as he went. As he hit the floor he heard the unmistakable sound of Vin's gun, following directly on the sound of the shooter's rifle going off. For a second he lay on the floorboards, looking up at the gun smoke as it made lazy swirls in the air above him. He realized that he wasn't hit. The shot must have gone wide.
"Chris, you all right?" Vin's voice, calm and quiet.
Chris got up from the floor, took off his hat and started to dust himself off. "Yeah," he said. "You?"
Vin stared at him and took a deep breath. "What the hell happened?" he asked, not so calm any longer.
"What? We got him, didn't we?" Chris looked over at the guy who'd been shooting at them. Yeah, he was dead alright.
"Nearly didn't." Vin sounded almost upset.
"Wasn't that close," Chris said.
"Was for you."
"You know what your trouble is?" Chris was getting really irritated now. Vin said nothing at all, he just glared at Chris as he continued, "You just don't trust me like before."
Vin gave him a derisive snort in answer and a look he couldn't decipher.
"I ain't the one you got to worry about, Cowboy," Vin said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You hesitated, Chris. You had that guy right in your sights and you hesitated. You didn't trust yourself. That's dangerous. And you know it."
Chris couldn't deny it. As soon as Vin said it Chris knew that he was absolutely right. And it didn't help. Not one little bit. They stared at each other in silence until a voice from the street outside broke into their thoughts. It was the town sheriff, Robbins.
"Hey, you up there, Larabee? Is he dead? What's going on?"
"Yeah, he's dead," Chris called out, breaking his eye contact with Vin. "It's over. You can come up now."
"Good," Robbins called back.
Chris threw open the hatch and had to take a step back when a small black cat shot out from below like a canon ball, then across the floor and up a beam. It settled on a cross-beam underneath the ceiling where it looked down on them with suspicious eyes. A few minutes later the rotund sheriff of White Rabbit Creek stepped through the hatch opening, panting slightly from the effort of climbing the ladder.
He took one look at the dead shooter sprawled out in a patch of sawdust. "Hah," he said loudly, almost with glee. "That's Tyler. I knew it had to be him. Dead. That's good. No need to waste good rope on that bastard."
"So, who's this Tyler then?" Vin asked.
"Didn't Judge Travis tell you?"
Chris shook his head. "He just said that you had a prisoner that needed an escort to Four Corners where he'll be tried for murder. Said that it needed a quick trial, and it was better done in Four Corners."
"Yes, that's right. That's Rufus Wainwright that you'll be escorting. This is Henry Tyler, his partner in crime. Together they've killed at least 32 people from here to Four Corners. Men. Women." He paused for a moment. "Children. Whole families."
Now Chris understood what they were talking about. "This is one of the Twilight Men."
"Yep, this is one of them. And I've got another one in my jail. Mean bastards. We've been looking for them for more than a year."
"Yeah, we've been looking for them too whenever we could. But they only ever hit one homestead over by us. The Macree family. Old couple, no kids."
"Guess your reputation protects your town pretty good, huh?" There was no resentment in the sheriff's tone but Chris felt the words as an accusation all the same. "Yeah, guess so," he muttered.
"Who'd want to tangle with the seven?" the sheriff prattled on, oblivious. "I know I sure wouldn't. Unfortunately we don't have that kind of protection here. They hit eleven farms round here. Always riding in around twilight, making sure that the family was there and that they could take them unawares. Robbing them and then killing them. Wainwright's told me all about it."
"How'd you catch him?" Vin asked.
"Pure luck. He was alone and drunk and lost a gold watch in a poker game. The watch was recognized by a brother of the man they'd stolen it from. Wainwright fell asleep in the saloon and woke up in jail. And it didn't take him long to realize that talking could be a good thing, keeping him from getting strung up right away. And he told us about Tyler. Figured he wouldn't be far away."
"Looks like you were right," Chris said.
"Was he fixing to kill Wainwright or us?" Vin wondered.
"Oh. Well." The sheriff looked surprised and troubled at the same time. "Could be either, couldn't it? But it was you two he was shooting at."
"Could mean trouble," Chris said.
Vin looked at him. "You think there might be someone else coming for Wainwright?"
"Can't rule it out."
"A man like Tyler usually has some friends," Robbins said. "As well as enemies. For all his talking Wainwright's very careful about some of the things he says. Can't be sure we've got all of the Twilight Men yet. There was a witness who survived and said that it had been three men and not two, but we never found anything else to support that. She was a little girl, that witness. Barely five years old, lost both her folks. Think that Tyler did most of the killings. Wainwright was just in it for the money. At least he said so...but I think he liked seeing kids killed."
"Why d'you say that?" Vin asked, his voice quiet.
Robbins looked uneasy. "Some of the things he said when he talked about the families-" his voice trailed off. "It' gonna be real good to get rid of him, I tell you."
"Well, we can get Wainwright and be out of town right away," Chris suggested.
Vin gave him an irritated look and then turned to the sheriff. "Think we'll have time to get something to eat? I was told that the food's good here."
With a guilty start Chris recognized one of the lies he'd told Vin earlier to get him to agree to this assignment.
The sheriff smiled. "Oh sure. Before sunset will do. I'll get Wainwright ready and have the wife put something together for you, for the road. In the meantime you can get a drink and some stew over at the saloon. It's not too bad. I think they even use real meat in it. I'll see you later then."
He nodded at them and started to make his way down the ladder again. Vin gave Chris a long look that told him nothing.
"What?" Chris snapped back.
Vin continued to stare at him, and then shook his head. "I'm going to the saloon," he said with finality and then made his way down the ladder. Chris felt his jaw clench and took a deep breath. Damn. Why couldn't Vin just leave him the hell alone?
Vin was already at a table eating stew when Chris caught up with him in the saloon. There was a bottle of whiskey and two glasses in the middle of the table.
"How's the stew?"
Vin picked up a piece of something unidentifiable on his fork and studied it for a second before dropping it back into the bowl.
"Had worse," he said. "Just cain't remember when."
"I'll stick to drinking then." Chris took one of the glasses, filled it and drained it within seconds, filled it again.
"We ain't done," Vin told him, his voice low enough not to be overheard by anyone other than Chris.
"Yes, we are," Chris said and drained his second glass. It must have been watered down for he couldn't feel it affect him in the least.
"I don't think so," Vin insisted.
"I don't really care what you think." Chris carefully refilled his glass.
He could see Vin's eyes open wide for the briefest moment, then his usual cool exterior fell into place.
"Then I guess we're done," Vin said. Something in his tone made Chris frown. He stopped with his glass almost at his lips, trying to backtrack to the point where he could remember what it was he'd just said.
"Vin-" he started to say when a shadow fell on the table between them and a voice interrupted, saying, "So, you're Larabee."
It was a kid, probably not even JD's age but dressed in a pretty expensive outfit that he wore with complete confidence. And he smiled like he already had a reputation. Or he was about to make one.
"Name's Burnell. Tom Burnell."
The name meant nothing to him. Chris raised his eyebrow a fraction. "So? What do you want?"
The kid's smile slipped a little but then returned.
"You know what I want. I'm calling you out."
"Why? Ain't done nothing to you that I know of."
The kid looked annoyed for a moment. Obviously the conversation wasn't going the way he'd expected. Chris had seen many young men like him before. He knew exactly what would happen next. The only thing he hadn't decided yet was if he was going to play along. He looked over at Vin who was sitting as still as a statue, his eyes not missing a thing. Chris could feel it settling like a weight on his shoulders, all the things he was expected to do, that he needed to do. He didn't have time for this.
There was something mean and ugly about the kid's smile now.
"Look, old man," he said. "We both know how this'll end. I think I can take you. You don't even look half as tough as I expected."
Chris carefully put his glass down on the table, and then rose slowly from his chair until he was standing right in front of the kid. He could see people move away from them all around the room but his whole focus was on the kid. The look Chris gave him was cold enough to stop ice from melting in the summer heat.
"Boy," Chris emphasized the word. "I don't think you know what the hell you're talking about. Back away."
The kid's grin got even wider. "I still think I can take you."
Damn! Was he going to have to kill him to get rid of this idiot? But then he saw sheriff Robbins moving up silently behind the kid. The boy suddenly froze when he felt the sheriff's gun in his back.
"Maybe you're fast enough," the sheriff said. "Maybe not. But it won't happen here. Not in my town. And definitely not today. Come on now. Move."
"What you gonna do to me?" the kid asked, sounding not so tough all of a sudden.
"Probably gonna save your damn fool life, that's what." He nodded to Vin and Chris. "You two better come with."
They walked over to the jail where Burnell was turned over to a quiet, young deputy who got an awed look on his face when he looked at Chris. When the deputy came back from locking up Burnell he stepped nervously over towards Chris with a blank piece of paper in his hand.
"Mr Larabee. Sir," the deputy hesitated, swallowed hard. "Could I have your autograph, please?"
"My what?" Chris could see the deputy wither under his glare, but he didn't care much for the youngster for he could also see Vin over by the door with his hand over his mouth, looking like he was trying hard not to explode with laughter. Robbins slammed the door to the jail cells shut and looked very annoyed when he spotted the boy.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Hunter. Stop bothering them. Go over to Mrs. Robbins and fetch the food."
The deputy blushed and shuffled off, passing by Vin who was still grinning.
"I apologize for that kid," the sheriff said. "He's a good kid but new to the west and not so bright. It'll take him some time yet to shape up to something. He's read too many of them dime novels, came out here looking for gunfighters. Think you're the first real live hero he's seen."
Chris was spared trying to come up with a reply to that as Vin stepped forward, his face neutral again. "Wainwright ready to go?"
"Yeah. But-"
"But what?"
"Just watch yourselves with this one. There's something wrong about him. He's not been as worried as he should be. That kinda worries me. Ah, here's the food now. Hunter, put that down and then get their horses and one for the prisoner. I'll get Wainwright."
The deputy had obviously been running. He put a basket down on the desk, looked up at Chris and blushed again before disappearing out the door. Chris felt a throbbing pain start in his right temple.
Wainwright was a tall, stocky man in his forties. He wore an immaculate white shirt underneath a tailored dark green jacket. His short red beard was neatly trimmed, and his grey eyes were sharp and alert. Wainwright gave Chris a quick look up and down then turned to Vin. Something must have caught his interest for Chris could see him stare at Vin for a much longer time, and Vin stared back just as intently. He was reminded of how Vin and Ezra sometimes used to look at each other, total opposites in every way, each trying to figure the other one out.
"Guess you must be Tanner," Wainwright suddenly spoke.
Vin nodded without breaking eye contact. Wainwright nodded slowly in return, as if some silent message had been passed and received. He turned towards Chris.
"That makes you Larabee."
"What of it?" Chris challenged him.
But Wainwright immediately backed off, even smiling a bit. "Oh, nothing. Nothing. Just getting to know my fellow travelers."
Chris could see a slight sheen on his forehead. He was sweating. Whatever Robbins had said about Wainwright not being worried it no longer applied. He was worried about something and Chris wasn't sure why but he got the feeling that it had nothing to do with either himself or Vin.
"You know all you need to," Chris told him. "Vin, get the cuffs."
Vin raised an eyebrow, then grinned, nodded and touched the brim of his hat. "Whatever you say. Mr Larabee. Sir." He disappeared out the door.
Chris took a deep breath and swore a long tirade, silently in his head. Mr Larabee. Sir. It was bad enough to hear that from Vin. He only hoped that Buck would never get to hear about this for he would no doubt tease Chris about it until the second coming. Vin came back a minute later with his saddlebags and the handcuffs, with the deputy in tow.
Wainwright was cuffed, and the sandwiches that Mrs Robbins had made were transferred from the basket to the saddlebags. Robbins put a paper in Chris's hand.
"Just sign this and he's all yours. I'll keep that kid locked up for some days yet until I'm sure he can't catch up with you."
Chris signed his name on the paper and then gave it back to the sheriff. "Thanks," he said, eager to finally get going.
The street was busy but it seemed just the usual bustle of a small town; he could feel no immediate threat. He looked over at Wainwright who was just getting into the saddle. Something seemed to be weighing on him, but he didn't look around much, didn't seem very worried about his surroundings at all. Still, as Chris got in the saddle, he continued to feel on edge.
He cast one final look around town and in through the window to the Sheriff's Office. The young deputy stood right in front of the window, staring with rapt attention down on the paper Chris had signed. The look of awe was back on his face.
The throbbing shard of pain in Chris's head returned with a vengeance. He turned Pony around and they all rode out of White Rabbit Creek without further incident.
+ + + + + + +
He felt he could breathe easier again, out on the road. Just two more days and they'd be home. Chris rode point with Wainwright following behind and then Vin. Every time he looked back he found Wainwright staring hard at him with those cold eyes before he casually let his gaze shift to the surrounding trees. Wainwright was a lot more calmer now than he had been in town. Confident enough to not completely hide his hatred underneath a polite manner.
Why wasn't he more worried?
There was something wrong with the man. Robbins had been right in that. It had worried Robbins and now it was worrying Chris. Still, Wainwright stayed calm and quiet the whole ride until they made camp that evening near a small lake. As Chris took care of the horses he looked over and saw Wainwright sitting by the fire. He had been talking for a while and Chris had mostly blended out his voice. Now he was saying something but his voice was so low that Chris couldn't make it out. But Vin who was on the other side of the fire could obviously hear it clearly, for he froze just as he put another branch in the fire and looked up at Wainwright his blue eyes blazing, his mouth just a thin line.
"Say that again and I'll cut out your tongue," he said quietly but loud enough for Chris to hear. Wainwright quickly closed his mouth, but as soon as Vin got up and turned away from him Chris could see an evil smile flash across his face. Vin went and got the rope and tied Wainwright securely to a tree then picked up all of their canteens.
"I'm going to get more water from that stream nearby," he told Chris as he went. He nodded towards Wainwright. "Feel free to gag him if he says anything." With that he disappeared from view behind some brushes.
Chris didn't wait for Wainwright to say anything. He could see Wainwright's eyes glitter darkly as he got near and knew that anything that came out of that mouth would most likely just be poison. He checked the bindings and tied a bandanna across Wainwright's mouth then he left to find Vin.
And he did find him, sitting by the stream and looking out over the darkening lake. Chris chose to stand.
"What did he say?" he asked.
Vin took his time answering. "Nothing."
"I can see you're still mad. Just tell me what he said."
"Nothing that matters," Vin said, warning him off. Chris just got more insistent.
"Aw, come on. You're so mad you're about to spit fire. And it's not just about Wainwright, is it? You're mad about a whole lot of other things. You've been that way for a long time now, don't think I don't know it. I can feel it. I know."
Vin got up on his feet and then crouched down to pick up the full canteens. He didn't even look at Chris.
"Quit pushing! Just leave me alone, Chris!"
"Why the hell won't you talk to me? I'm telling you that I know."
"You know just what I'm thinking, do you?"
"Yeah, I know."
Vin came up from his crouch like a big cat and his right fist struck Chris square on the jaw, felling him like a tree.
"I came there to help you and you shot me, you stupid son of a bitch! You SHOT me!"
Chris looked up. He could see that Vin was shaking as he tried to overcome the pain in his fist. The fist that had just struck Chris. It hadn't knocked Chris out or broken his jaw, but it had been a pretty good blow, nonetheless.
Chris pushed himself up on one elbow, gingerly feeling his jaw. He'd bitten his tongue and there was blood in his mouth. He spat it out on the grass. "Knew you were still angry."
Vin looked troubled and weary. "You and Wainwright got a lot in common, pushing people too far. I think you're right. I'm still mad. Maybe I should leave."
This hadn't been in the plan at all. "Vin, I didn't mean-" But Vin was already walking away, and Chris knew he'd only made things worse than before and not at all better.
+ + + + + + +
Supper was an uneasy affair. The sandwiches that Mrs Robbins had made were unappetizing to say the least, both soggy and hard in all the wrong places. The silence that rested between Vin and Chris wasn't much help, either. Wainwright took a bite of his sandwich and then looked down at the bread in disgust.
"If this is what the Sheriff eats then how can he be so fat?" he muttered.
"That's all you get, so stow it," Chris told him, though silently he wondered the same thing.
Both Vin and Wainwright were as silent as two clams after that. Chris wanted to talk to Vin, to tell him that he'd gotten it all wrong; but he knew he couldn't do it as long as Wainwright was with them. It would have to wait until they were home again.
Vin was looking at him across the fire. "I'll take first watch," he told Chris who searched for words for a second before he just nodded.
He closed his eyes, and it felt like no time at all before Vin shook him awake again. The night had turned cool, making it easier for him to stay awake. He poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned back against his saddle, his ears alert for any sound that was out of place.
Vin didn't look like he was sleeping well, he was caught in some nightmare. Chris got up and walked closer, unsure if he should shake him awake or not. He bent down on one knee just in time to hear Vin's pleading whisper, "Don't you know me? Don't shoot. Don't shoot."
The guilt struck him like lightning and he could feel his heart squeezed by pain as he rose. He was the cause of this nightmare and there was nothing he could do. Nothing that would help either of them.
Something felt wrong. He looked up to find Wainwright silently watching them both. Chris let his hand fall down on the handle of his gun. Wainwright gave him a humorless smile and laid his head back down, closing his eyes.
Chris went back to his watching post. Vin seemed to settle down on his own and spent the rest of the night in peace until the coldness of dawn. The next day they were all tired and on edge as they rode. Wainwright was far too placid, hardly saying anything.
Chris wondered about a hundred different things as he rode. What the hell had Wainwright said to Vin? Why had he said it? Was he just testing how they'd react? If so, then why? Was he trying to drive a wedge between them? Chris knew that it wouldn't take much at this stage.
He didn't know what it was all building up to, but he was pretty sure that he wouldn't like it. Not one little bit.
They made camp late that afternoon in a clearing near a footpath that wound its way down to a river in the distance. Vin made quick work of tying Wainwright to a tree before he silently gathered up the canteens and escaped towards the river. Chris waited a short while to give him some space, then he checked that their prisoner was securely tied up and followed Vin. Wainwright had been so quiet all day that he didn't even bother with the gag.
Vin looked more wary than surprised when he turned to face Chris on the wide embankment that led down to the water.
"Vin, I need to talk to you," he quickly said. "I didn't mean to get you mad like that. It's just - we need to get past this. It's ruining everything."
"I know," Vin said. "I'm thinking I should leave. Clear my head. I've been staying put for too long." He looked out across the waters and shook his head. "Too long."
"That's just running, Vin. That don't resolve a thing."
Vin was silent for a while. There was something almost desperate in his eyes when he turned back to look at Chris. "Then what do you want me to do?" he asked.
Chris'd had plenty of time to think. Most of the night, the whole of the day. And the only thing he felt could set the balance right again, the only idea left in his brain that could solve this was something so crazy that he hesitated for almost a minute before he told Vin, "I think you should shoot me."
Vin blinked, then stared at him, then asked, "You want me to what?"
"I think you should shoot me. Not kill me. Just shoot me."
"You want me to shoot you?" Vin slowly repeated.
"Yeah."
"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."
"Maybe so, but then we'd at least be quits," Chris insisted.
"What the hell you talking about?"
"We'd be even. And then you could finally forgive me for shooting you."
Why couldn't Vin just understand? Chris got more and more irritated as he watched Vin's expression turn to stone.
"I did that way back in Gila flats."
"No you didn't."
"Yeah, I did," Vin protested
"You never said so."
"I did say so!" Now Vin was looking at him like he thought Chris'd gone completely crazy.
"No you didn't," Chris persisted. "I said I was sorry and you just said 'Ain't got nothing to be sorry for'. But it weren't nothing, was it? Otherwise you'd have said it and I wouldn't have to feel so damn guilty all the time!"
Now that he'd said what he felt out loud Chris found that it didn't sound even half as rational as it had done in his head. Vin's face gave nothing away, but he had a strange gleam in his eyes.
"What you saying?" he asked quietly. "This is all my fault?"
"You said it."
The strange gleam in Vin's eyes turned out to be anger and it seemed to be growing fast from a spark into a fire.
"Go to hell!" he said before Chris had a chance to say anything more and turned on his heel to walk away.
Chris felt his own anger slip through the cracks and flow out before he could stop it.
"Don't you walk away from me!" He wasn't even really aware of what he was doing until he'd already grabbed hold of Vin's shoulder and forced the man to turn around. He could see the shock and fury on Vin's face and instantly knew he'd gone too far.
"Or what?" Vin finally said, his voice both quiet and menacing. "What you gonna do, Chris? Shoot me in the back this time? Well, go ahead!"
He wrenched free and Chris just stood frozen with his hands down by his sides as Vin gave him one final warning. "Just make damn sure you finish it. 'Cause you ain't gonna get no third shot."
He walked away towards the camp, and Chris let him go. His mind was still reeling from the impact of Vin's words. This was it. He'd finally broken their friendship, just like he broke everything he touched.
He felt sick to his stomach all of a sudden and sat down heavily in the grass on the embankment. His mind felt like it was full of painful shards, and he couldn't put them together in any way that resembled a thought. The waters flowed on while he just sat in silence and watched. Chris had the feeling that he was probably being a coward but he didn't much care until the sun stood so low on the horizon that he couldn't avoid going back to camp any longer. He was just about to move out of the brush onto the footpath when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
Chris froze for a second as he tried to determine where it had been coming from. But he already knew. He knew. That had to be the camp. He started to run. Two more shots in close succession. He was just seconds away now, slowing down and drawing his gun. He stopped just out of reach of camp, close enough to see, hopefully without being seen.
He could see a faint trail of blood stretching from the tree towards the fire, it glistened in the firelight. Wainwright was on the ground on one side of the fire and Vin lay on the other, the handcuffs beside him. A man with a gun in his hand was leaning down over Vin. When he straightened up again Chris could see his face. It was Burnell.
Wainwright was dead. He had to be, his white shirt had turned red and there was a pool of blood spreading from the back of his head. Vin lay unmoving face down. For a terrible moment Chris couldn't tell if he was alive or not. Then Vin suddenly moaned and moved around a bit before laying still again. Burnell started at that sound and fixed his gun on Vin, his eyes narrowing. Chris took that moment to step out into the clearing.
Burnell froze when he heard footsteps and quickly looked up, an expression of pleasant surprise falling into place as he spotted Chris.
"Larabee, you're just in time."
Chris raised his gun slightly. "For what?"
"To thank me."
Chris wavered a bit, suddenly feeling uncertain about what was going on. "For what?" he repeated.
"For saving your friend. Rufus was free and had knocked him down. He was just about to kill him when I came. You should thank me, Larabee."
"Yeah. Thanks," Chris slowly said and studied Burnell. He sounded innocent, looked it too, but Chris's instincts told him that it was a lie. There was something wrong with that kid just like there had been something wrong with this whole mission. It nagged at Chris. It was something Burnell had said. What was it? What?
And then he knew. "Rufus," Chris said. He could see Burnell give a guilty start, immediately trying to mask it with a cool look.
"What's that?" Burnell said. Neither of them had lowered their guns yet, but Burnell seemed far from being as eager to take Chris on now as he had been in town.
"You said Rufus. How'd you know that was his given name?"
But Burnell wasn't thrown much by his question. "I guess I heard it somewhere. The jail. Yeah, that's it. I heard it in the jail."
For a split second Chris wondered again if he could be wrong in his suspicions about Burnell. But everything was connecting in his head now, every little thing that had felt wrong to him. They were falling like domino bricks, one after the other, falling into place. Wainwright sweating and uneasy when they saw him. Not because he was going to trial, but because Burnell had just been locked up. The conflicting numbers of the Twilight Men. Burnell calling Wainwright 'Rufus'.
No, he decided, no he wasn't wrong. Burnell was just the last brick to fall into place. Chris could almost see what had happened here. He wished he could go over and check on Vin but he knew he couldn't afford to let his concentration slip away from this kid viper even for a second.
"He must have been surprised," Chris said.
"Who?" Burnell's shrewd eyes were fixed on him as well.
"Wainwright. He must have been so surprised when you turned on him. He probably thought you'd come to set him free. But you came for something else, didn't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." But Chris could see that he did.
"You came to shut him up and you did. Did you even untie him before you shot him?"
Burnell laughed. "Why would I need to shut him up?"
"To keep him from talking about the third of the Twilight Men. About you."
Burnell was silent for a little while, studying Chris and something changed in his face. The expression of youth and innocence fell away and something older and far more dangerous took it's place.
"So you're not as thick as I thought," Burnell calmly said.
They were only seconds away from gunplay now, Chris could feel it. Then Vin suddenly moaned and tried to move his hands to get leverage enough to sit up and Chris's focus was shattered. Fast as lightning Burnell crouched down and pulled Vin up by the back of his hide coat to act as a shield.
"Coward!," Chris called out. "Why don't you just face me like you wanted to before, instead of hiding behind an injured man!"
Burnell smiled. "Ain't nobody around but us two. No one to care if it's a righteous kill or not. I'm not taking any chances. I admit it, I underestimated you. That's too bad. Means a little more trouble but it won't change the outcome."
"What outcome? Me and Vin, killed by Wainwright? Killing him in the process? People won't believe that."
"Well, you see, I can fix that. I can stage it so they'll never even ask anything. I have a knack for that. I enjoy talking. Making people believe what I say. You never believed I was anything other than a dumb kid after your reputation, did you? At least not at first. And Hunter..." He broke off and laughed.
Chris thought about that hero worshiping boy deputy and felt a chill travel down his spine. "What about Hunter?"
"Little Hunter was the easiest killing I've ever done. Easier to lure even than the kids out on the farms. Oh, I can change how I look and make them believe anything I say. That's what made Rufus and me such a good team."
"And Tyler?"
"Tyler was thick as a board. He just did what we told him. He was quite good at killing things, even though he lacked a certain finesse. But then, he left that bit for me. Whenever there was kids around, he left them for me to take care of. He knew I liked that."
"Don't you think they know by now that you killed that deputy? I bet you're already a wanted man."
Burnell was smiling again. Chris was really starting to hate the sight of that smile.
"Tom Burnell's a wanted man. Trouble for them is I'm not really Burnell. I never was. Come on now, on your feet."
With a show of strength that Chris hadn't even guessed at, Burnell managed to haul Vin all the way up to a standing position. Vin could stand on his own now, but he had a dazed expression on his face, his eyes only half open. He still wasn't all there with them. He couldn't help himself, and that made all the difference to their chance of getting out of this alive.
There was no way Chris could shoot without hitting Vin. He thought it over slowly one more time. There was no way he could shoot without hitting Vin. Burnell sure knew it, he was grinning again. And his gun was far too close to Vin's head.
No way.
Chris looked at Vin. Vin was looking a bit more alert now. He could see it in Vin's eyes. Vin knew at least part of what was going on. He knew time was running out.
"Trust me on this," Chris told Burnell. "It all stops here. You won't walk away from this. I won't let you. And I won't let you hurt another soul. That's a promise."
"You ain't fast enough to take me, Larabee. Not like this." The kid hadn't lost any of his confidence.
Chris didn't care. His message had mostly been for Vin. He looked at Vin, to see if he had heard what he was trying to say, everything he wanted to put in that promise.
"Trust me," Chris said again. As much to himself this time as to Vin.
He could see the look in Burnell's eyes suddenly change in an ugly way. This was it. No more time. Words ran through his mind in a constant stream. He was faster than Burnell, he could hit the heart. He could hit the heart. He could hit the heart.
A wish. A hope. A prayer. Chris fired.
He heard Vin gasp as the bullet sliced right through his arm before striking the kid's shoulder. They both fell apart from each other, in different directions. Chris fired again, this time hitting Burnell in the head, straight between the eyes.
Chris went over to check that the kid really was dead. Yep. Burnell or not, he'd be buried under that name. For all his shrewd scheming he hadn't seen that coming. He'd died with an expression of surprise on his face.
Chris took a deep breath. His gut was churning and he had the same awful feeling as he'd felt that day in Gila Flats. He didn't want to look at Vin, didn't want to see what the hell he'd done. But he knew he had too.
Vin was sitting on the ground, still with that dazed expression. Blood was dripping from his fingers where he clutched his right arm.
"Son of a-!" Vin said. His voice sounded like he was completely bewildered, but then he seemed to shake off his daze and his eyes burned with fury once again. "I don't believe this! You shot me again!"
"Sorry," Chris said. He tried to think about what to say more than sorry. Nothing came to mind. Nothing at all.
Chris went over to his saddlebag to get a bottle of whiskey and some clean cloths. He had a sudden wild urge to laugh but knew that if he gave in to it, then Vin would probably shoot him first chance he got. Not that Chris would blame him either. Who'd ever heard of anyone who'd deliberately shoot one of his best friends - twice?
"Bite down on something," he told Vin when he returned. "I'm gonna clean out the wound."
Vin just locked his lips in a stubborn line and looked away as Chris poured whiskey into the bullet hole. He stayed silent and angry the whole time Chris cleaned and bandaged the wound. The bullet had gone clean through. Vin had lost a fair amount of blood, but Chris could see that it was nowhere near as bad as he'd first feared. Vin wasn't going to bleed out. His bones hadn't been shattered. He was hurt, but he was going to be fine.
Chris let out a long breath of relief, and then took a swig from the bottle. He felt he had earned it.
"I'm real sorry," Chris said as sincerely as he could. "But it was the only thing I could think of right then, and I figured you'd rather be shot in the arm than in the head."
Vin turned back to glare at him for a long time without speaking. But then all of a sudden he frowned and looked away. Chris didn't know what to make of it, but he knew this was the turning point. For better or worse - this was it. Vin would leave or he would stay and there was nothing Chris could do. It was all up to Vin now.
Vin suddenly turned his head and pinned Chris down with an intense stare.
"You figured, huh?" he said. He didn't sound like he was angry any longer. In fact his tone was so neutral that it was hard to say if he was feeling anything at all.
"Yeah," Chris replied, with the smallest flicker of hope waiting to grow in his chest.
"Well, you figured right," Vin finally said. "This time." He grimaced as he moved his wounded arm around to judge how bad it was. He gave Chris another long look and then the left corner of his mouth suddenly twitched. "But I gotta tell you, Cowboy...from the way you've been aiming lately -"
He stopped there and Chris had to ask, "What?"
"-I think you might be needin' glasses."
This time Chris didn't stop himself from laughing. Vin held out his good hand to Chris who grabbed hold if it and helped Vin to his feet.
"Well, you might be right." Chris said as he tied some bandannas together to fashion a sling for Vin's arm. "Never used to have so much trouble just shooting someone before."
"Probably my fault," Vin said, but this time without rancor.
"Probably," Chris agreed. He knew he'd somehow let Vin get close enough to be able read his mind and to knock his world off balance. And he also felt that he had a greater chance to predict exactly where lightning would strike than to figure out whatever Vin was going to do next. Chris should have been uneasy about these facts, he had been in the past. But this time, strangely enough, he felt calmer than he had in a long while. For some unknown reason his world seemed to have tilted right back into balance again. The trust was there again. He found that he didn't really need to question it or examine it too closely. Maybe he should just learn to live with it.
+ + + + + + +
The next morning Chris buried the dead while Vin struck camp and stowed away their gear. Vin still looked pale and ever so often he'd stop what he was doing for a moment, close his eyes and swallow hard. Every time he did this Chris stopped and waited for him to be sick or just pass out, but Vin would just stay completely still and then open his eyes again and go on as if nothing had happened.
"How's the head?" Chris asked.
Vin shrugged and then winced. "Don't know," he said. "Is it still stuck on my shoulders?"
"Looks like it."
"Then I guess it'll be alright," Vin said as he wrestled one-handedly with the buckles on his saddlebags . "Look, Cowboy ... can we call it quits now?"
"If you want," Chris offered.
"Think so." Vin finally managed to get the saddlebags closed and swung them up behind his saddle.
"Okay then," Chris said, and it was settled.
"Good," Vin said and climbed into the saddle. "Ain't sure I can survive any more of this whole forgiving thing."
Chris grinned and shook his head as he got in the saddle as well. Vin Tanner - as stubborn as ever. It was almost like it had been before the whole business of Gila Flats.
Almost. "Vin... you gonna leave or stick around?"
"Why? You need some target practice?" Vin asked, but the grin that followed took the sting right out of the words.
"I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"
"Not likely, Cowboy," Vin said, sounding like he was really starting to enjoy himself now. "Not unless I'd happen to shoot you one day by accident."
Another thought struck Chris. "What the hell we gonna tell the guys about your arm? I can't go back and say I shot you. Not again." Worst of all, the option to just plain lie about what had happened wasn't his to choose.
But Vin had a better idea. "Shouldn't tell them anything. Let them ask. Say nothing. That's gonna drive Ezra crazy for sure." From the way he sounded Vin was already looking forward to it.
The horses slowly made their way out of the woods and onto the road.
"Sounds like you're staying." Chris said, so quietly that it was more to himself than to Vin.
Vin was a few feet ahead of him, but now he stopped and turned around so he could look back at Chris. Chris reined in Pony and waited.
"Maybe I should stay, Cowboy." Vin looked serious, sounded it too. "Just for a while." Then an irrepressible grin suddenly took over, and a mischievous spark lit up his eyes. "At least until you get them glasses," he added.
A nudge and Peso set off at a nice, easy pace with Pony following right beside. Traveling at this pace it would take them several days extra to get back to Four Corners, but Chris didn't mind. It was enough that they were all moving in the same direction at last.

The End