"Damned bounty hunters!" J. D. Dunne
spat out as he slammed into a chair at the table where three of
his fellow peace keepers had taken up residence. "Ain't any
of them more than no-account low-down egg-sucking curs!"
"Present company excepted, of
course?" Ezra directed a pointed look to Vin Tanner, who sat
watching the youngest of the Seven with his usual calm
expression.
"Huh?" J. D.'s own expression went
blank. Then, as understanding dawned, he blushed and stammered
out an apology to the ex-bounty hunter. "Sorry, Vin. You
know I didn't mean you. You were never like the rest of
them."
"That bunch that brought in Jed Hoskins
this morning give you any trouble?" Nathan asked as Inez set
a beer down on the table in front of the agitated young man.
J. D. took a long sip of his drink before
replying. "No. Not really, I guess. It's just...." He
set his beer down carefully on the table. "I don't know what
it is about men like that, but it makes my skin crawl."
"They're just doing their jobs," Vin
murmured.
"Maybe that's what bothers me so much. I
mean, what kind of man does it take to go hunting someone like
that?"
A kick in the shins from the gambler's pointy
boots reminded J.D. once again of the company he was keeping, and
he offered another blushing apology. "Hell, Vin. I'm sorry.
But that bunch that brought in Hoskins didn't care about nothing
but the money. Bet if that poster had read Dead or Alive
they'd have brought him in dead for sure."
Vin cocked his head, eyeing the young man
before him. "And what makes you so sure I ever cared about
more than the money?"
J. D. looked affronted. "I know
you, Vin. You ain't like that. You couldn't ever be."
Vin eyed him for a long moment, his expression
giving nothing away. Then he went back to his beer.
J. D. fidgeted for several minutes, looking
from one man to another before him, his gaze always going back to
Vin. And when a lull came in the conversation that had moved on
without him, he brought it back to a question that had been on
his mind since he had first learned of Vin's former occupation.
"Why'd you do it, Vin? Why did you become a bounty
hunter?"
Vin sat watching the younger man with an
unblinking gaze, and the looks the other men gave him told J. D.
he'd had no right to ask such a question and certainly didn't
deserve an answer. But before he could apologize yet again, Vin
offered a piece of himself he had always kept close for no reason
other than that he had never before had anyone to whom he dared
entrust it.
"I didn't exactly go looking for that way
of life, J. D." His raspy voice was low and his gaze fell to
the half-empty glass on the table before him. "But after the
buffalo gave out, I drifted along for a good while, taking jobs
here and there, never staying in one place for very long at all.
Just couldn't seem to find whatever it was I needed to set my
hand to or my heart on. Then one day I stopped at this small
Texas ranch. Wasn't much at all. Hardly even looked lived in. But
I was tired and my horse was thirsty, so I rode up to the house
hoping to water my horse and maybe sit a spell under a shade
tree. Didn't see nobody around at first, so I went ahead and took
care of my horse. Then when I headed for a tree to rest up under,
I come across this woman, sitting in the grass beside three
graves a ways from the house, pulling weeds out of the
ground."
He fell silent, his gaze still on the glass of
amber liquid he began to swirl, tilting the glass so that it
caught the meager light filtering in through the batwing doors
and dusty windows.
The others waited, unmoving, intent on this
rare look into the quiet man's past. Then, his gaze locked on his
glass but his mind seeing years past, Vin took up the tale again.
"She wasn't that old. But there were a lot of years wearing
heavy on her. I could see it in her eyes. A whole mess of grief
and doing without, waiting for better times to come that never
did. She didn't look up at me, didn't know I was there or seem in
the mood for company if she did. So I started to ride off, to
find some other tree to rest under. But there was something about
the way she was sitting there staring at those graves and pulling
weeds off of them, like there was nothing else in the world for
her. Didn't feel right to just ride off and leave her like that.
Tried talking to her, but the words never seemed to get past
whatever was keeping her on that patch of ground."
He continued to swirl the liquid in his glass,
the light dancing off it mesmerizing the men sitting at the
table, transporting them to a small dusty ranch and three
weed-covered graves.
"I looked around, hoping to find someone
there looking after her. But far as I could tell, she was alone
-- and the place falling down around her. So I started in to
fixing things. Don't know why exactly, except that it was
something that needed doing. And after a while, she got up from
those graves and went inside. Then a while later she come out and
asked me inside to eat. Never talked about herself or the graves.
Just give me something to eat and her thanks. Then I rode off.
But I couldn't get that woman out of my mind. So I headed for the
closest town and asked about her. Found out those graves were
those of her husband and kids. Seems some fellas had come through
while she was out visiting the neighbors one day and killed them
all for no more than a couple of horses and what little else they
could carry off. They took everything in the world that meant
anything to her. And all she had left was those graves and
keeping the weeds off them. That was all she had to live
for."
Vin's brows drew down in a frown of remembered
sorrow. "It just didn't seem right. A body should have
something else to live for, something more than a tiny patch of
ground and the weeds growing on it. So I set out after those
fellas. Didn't have nothing else to do. Figured I might as well
do that as anything.
"Took me most of a month to catch up with
them. And the two that weren't too stupid to live I brung back to
that town, so's that widow woman would know that them that took
from her was going to pay for it. Thought it might help, you
know? Thought knowing that would help her to get those weeds out
of her mind if not off them graves and maybe help her find
something else to live for." He shook his head. "Didn't
know nothing about a reward 'til that sheriff told me about it.
And at first, I aimed to turn it down. But I was riding awful
light -- had been for longer than I cared to think about. So I
took the money and was glad of it. Then that sheriff mentioned
there was other fellas needed bringing in as bad as the bunch I'd
brung in. Lots of other folk grieving for them that had got taken
from them. Lots of little patches of ground with weeds growing on
them and in need of some tending."
The hand twirling the glass stilled.
"Didn't have nothing else to do. All I had left in life was
my horse and drifting from job to job for money enough to stay
alive. Figured maybe there should be something else to live for
than that. And helping folks tend their patches of ground seemed
to be a start on finding it. So I had that sheriff go through his
stack of wanted posters and pick me out someone who needed
bringing in the most, someone who'd left too many weeds and
fading memories behind."
He fell silent, and no one spoke for a long
time, until finally J.D. said, "What about that widow woman,
Vin? Did she ever find something else to live for?"
"I don't know, J. D. I never did make it
back to that town. Always seemed to be too many patches of ground
needing tending. I'll get there though, one of these days."
"Maybe one day when you got all the
patches of ground tended to around here?" Nathan asked.
"I reckon."
Another silence fell, that time broken by Ezra,
who lifted his glass in a toast. "Then here is to weed-free
patches of ground, Mr. Tanner. And to always being able to find
something else to live for."
The others around the table lifted their
glasses in turn, Vin the last, the light dancing off his glass as
he raised it in a salute to friends -- and to a small Texas ranch
and a woman tending her small patch of ground there.
The End
