"I can't do it, Buck!" The tall, lean man stood in front of the small wall mirror, his handsome face reflected in mosaic by the cracked glass, and struggled to comb some order into his brown-gold hair.
"C'mon, Chris. Tain't nothin' to it!" said Buck, who lay on the nearby bed with his eyes closed and his long, lanky figure sprawled out comfortably.
"You do it, then!" retorted Chris, shooting him a challenging glare.
At the sharp tone, Buck's eyes popped open, and a frown appeared under his dark mustache. Throwing his legs over the bed's side, he sat up. "You know I can't do that. Billy asked you. Why'd you tell him you'd do it if you feel like this?"
"Just couldn't think of a way out of it, I guess."
"You mean you just couldn't say 'no' to the kid. Anyway, you're makin' way too much of it."
"That's easy for you to say, not bein' the one who has to do it." Chris turned back to the mirror. With the side of his hand, he quickly wiped the sweat from his upper lip and then began the process of creating a bow in his narrow black tie. Or trying to. He seemed to be all thumbs. "Blast! Where is Ezra when you need him?" he lamented.
Buck sighed and got off the bed. "Here, let me do it before you choke yourself."
Chris gave up and dropped his hands to his sides. He stood like a long-suffering little boy being forced to dress up for a Sunday service, while Buck set about his task with purpose. Ten minutes and five attempts later, he was still at it, and Chris, about ready to explode, was conjuring up images of strangling his helper with the very same tie he was grappling with.
Finally, it was done. "There!" pronounced Buck. "What do you think?"
Chris turned back to the mirror, slanted his head to see between the cracks, and said nothing.
"Well?" demanded the impatient man behind him.
"Where is Ezra when you need him?" Chris said again, hiding a hint of a smile.
It was Buck's turn to glare. "Dang it, Chris! It looks good, and you know it!"
"Sorry, Buck. It is a sight better than I was doin' for sure." Chris took a handkerchief from his pocket and once again wiped the moisture from his face.
"Cold outside, ain't it?" said Buck.
"What?"
"Wind's been from the north the past day or so. Nice to have it cool for a change, though, after all that hot weather last week."
"Yeah, I guess so," said Chris, absently stuffing the handkerchief back into his pocket and beginning to pace the floor.
"So why are you sweatin' so much?"
Chris stopped in his tracks. "Huh? What in blazes are you goin' on about?"
Chris, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you're scared."
Chris looked away and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked terrible, his face close to the same shade as the pale gray shirt he was wearing. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
Buck took two paces forward and placed a supportive hand on the shoulder of his long-time friend. "There ain't nothin' to be afraid of. It'll be over before you know it. Trust me!"
"Mary should be doin' this, not me."
"Billy wants a man, Chris, and, you're the man he cares most about in this world. Next to the judge, that is, and he ain't here right now to do it. You should be feelin' proud that Billy asked you."
"What if I disappoint him, Buck? What if I make a fool of myself in front of all of them?"
Fear and near panic were evident in the intense green eyes, and Buck hastened to reassure him.
"That ain't gonna happen, and you gotta stop thinkin' it will. Chris, you just gotta be yourself. That's all Billy wants."
After a moment's silence, Buck thought he saw Chris give an infinitesimal nod of agreement. He wasn't sure, but he was determined to think positively.
"All right, then! What time do you hafta be there?"
"Uh...ten o'clock."
Buck glanced toward the table by the window and the clock that sat on it. "You'd best be on your way then. You've got less than ten minutes to get there. Where's your jacket?" Looking beyond Chris, he spotted the item in question. "Oh, I see it," he said and retrieved the black jacket from the wall peg, holding it out to the other man. Chris stood frozen where he was.
"Chris...?" No reply. "Here, let me help you," Buck offered, fearing that Chris might keel over like a felled tree at any moment now. "Okay, first the right arm...." He guided the limb into the sleeve. "...and then the left...."
Mechanically, Chris followed the instructions of his acting valet. "There ya go," said Buck, finishing his task by brushing a few specks of lint from the garment. "Now let's have a look at you."
He stood back to study the figure before him. "No better lookin' lawman in these parts," he concluded, before making one modification. "'Cept for me, of course. But second best ain't bad," he said with a grin.
Chris managed a small smile in return. "Thanks, Buck."
"You better go. Want me to walk along with ya?"
Chris thought about it. "No. I think I'll go over alone."
"It'll be fine, Chris. Good luck."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Chris sat at the back of the room with Billy beside him. He took comfort that at least he wasn't shaking. Probably because I'm scared stiff, he thought wryly.
It was ten-thirty. He'd been waiting for his predecessor to finish for half an hour now, and he was growing more panicky by the second. He didn't know how much longer he could hold out, and he'd just begun to wrack his brain for an excuse to leave, when the dreaded moment came.
"Thank you, Mr. Fraser and Tony. I know the class enjoyed learning about what it's like to work as a blacksmith. Children, let's all thank Mr. Fraser."
There was the sound of half-hearted applause, as the school children dutifully followed their teacher's lead, and Tony and his father retired, their ordeal now over.
Chris's, however, wasn't, and his stomach began churning when he again heard the teacher's voice. "Next we have Billy Travis," she announced. "Billy has brought his friend Mr. Larabee to tell us about being a lawman. Billy, will you and Mr. Larabee come up to the front, please?"
Billy jumped up, a big smile on his face. "C'mon, Chris," he said, grabbing the gunfighter's hand.
Chris took a deep breath, and with his free hand, he tugged at his noose-like collar and swallowed. Then he stood up, and like a man about to be hanged, he followed Billy to the front of the room.
The End
