Now this is the Law of the
Jungle - as old and as true as the sky;
And the Wolf that shall
keep it may prosper, but the Wolf that shall break it must die.
As the creeper that girdles
the tree trunk the Law runneth forward and back -
For the strength of the
Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack.
JD stood a few miles from the Four Corners
town limits, gazing toward his home. He couldn't believe it; the
seven (or rather, six) had been defeated. His friends whom he depended
upon so completely had been taken out, gunned down by a gang of unruly,
bloodthirsty hoodlums, men hired by the ranchers of the area, to scare
the population into leaving town. The ranchers wanted the land and
they didn't care whose blood was spilled in the acquisition.
Things had gone so wrong and it had all begun
with that damned Major Quist. Quist had panicked in a gun fight,
getting his son killed, then blamed his own weakness on the gunfighter-gambler,
Ezra Standish. As JD stood, mourning the loss of all his home and
surrogate family, he thought of how his southern friend had lost just as
much, not through gunfire, but mistrust. Ezra's honour and courage
had been called into question and his friends had failed to defend it.
Having lost faith in himself and his comrades, Ezra left. The group
was compromised and nothing would ever be the same.
It had been only a month between Ezra's departure
and the beginning of the attacks. It were as if the ranchers were
making sure it was not all a ruse to get them to let their guard down.
Ruse it was not and, in spite of the formidable team he and his remaining
friends still made, they had lost their rhythm and couldn't get it back.
The guilt and sadness Ezra's departure had created undermined their every
action. The ranchers' mercenaries had used this to their advantage,
first cutting off supply wagons and the mail services. They began
assaulting innocent travellers and burning farms, gradually moving closer
to town. For every man the peacekeepers took down, two seemed to
appear and none of the foot soldiers could be linked back to their employers.
The fear amongst the townsfolk continued to build, until the town, itself,
was targeted by fifty gunslingers and the dam broke.
JD remembered fire and noise. Vin Tanner
and Josiah Sanchez had ridden out to check on the near by farms.
The ranchers had waited until there were only four protectors in the town.
JD remembered Buck grinning from the stable window, as he took down one
of the hoods and he remembered the fire that had smoked his best friend
out from his cover, falling, singed and half blind, at the feet of his
enemy. He remembered the gunshot which had taken Chris Larabee in
the shoulder, too near to the lung, and the despair on Nathan's face as
he had forced his leader to submit to his care.
JD had been sent to get help. He had
no idea what was going on in the town, now. It had been over two
hours since he had saddled his horse and ridden out. He had done
so under his leader's orders, but the guilt of being alive and whole, while
his friends were not, was overwhelming. He knew he should be going
for help, looking for their other allies, but all he could do was pace,
circling the town, trying to see what was going on. He couldn't bring
himself to ride away from his home.
JD turned sharply, hearing a noise behind
him. Not ten feet away stood Vin Tanner, his face baring an expression
borrowed from the devil, himself. Josiah stood behind him, gazing
past JD, at the town.
"We bin tryin' ta get back in," began Vin,
"but the whole place is sealed tighter 'an a drum. Sentries to all
sides, sharpshooters and townspeople as hostages. How'd you get out?"
JD looked at his feet, ashamed he did not
share his fallen comrades' fate. "Chris sent me to find help before
the fighting was done. Him and Buck are hurt pretty bad'," the youth's
voice began to waver, but he had too much respect for the men facing him
to lie or mince words. "The ranchers' boys have let Nate take 'em
to his place, but only 'cause they're no longer a threat. I don't
think they'll make it."
Vin fixed his gaze on the ground, absorbing
this information. Josiah merely nodded and took a deep breath.
I had to happen, eventually. All good things must come to an end
(an empty platitude, he thought, but appropriate).
The town was in a shambles. Most of
the townspeople had packed what they could and left, braving the highway
attacks which had prevented them leaving before this. Mary Travis
and her son were amongst the throng. The last time such an exodus
had occurred in Four Corners, she had stayed, ready to defend her town
to the end. Now, she saw little point. Her home and business
had been burned by the pillagers. The people she had come to care
about had all been scattered and broken. All she had now was Billy
and leaving was the best thing for him.
The months since Ezra Standish had left had
been difficult for her. Like the others, she had failed the gambler.
Rather than protect him, she had blamed him. Mary had never realised
how conditional her regard for the conman was. While everything was
alright, she had allowed herself to feel her attraction to him. She
had even allowed herself to entertain a thought or two that a woman of
her standing should not entertain. However, the moment someone had
suggested he was other than what she wanted him to be, she had reverted
to her old judgmental self and turned her back on him. She had gone
to see Ezra in the jail. She had been unable
to even look at him, but when he had spoken she had heard something in
his voice that she had never heard from the imperturbable gambler before.
Was it hurt? She shook this idea off; what would Ezra Standish care
for her opinion?
She had watched as the remainder of the seven
fall apart. She would never have known how deeply the loss of one
of the group would alter the others. They had become careless and
undisciplined. She had feared, like never before, they would end
up getting themselves shot. Even Chris Larabee, the seasoned gunslinger,
had lost some of his edge. She shut her eyes, remembering the pain
his new-found self doubt had brought to them all, then, regrets under control,
Mary Travis walked on.
Nathan sat, exhausted, in a large chair in
his clinic, looking over his patients and facing the door. He would
have loved to lie down, but both of the cots were occupied. Chris
Larabee lay in the cot nearest the door, weak from blood loss, a bullet
wound in his left shoulder. The bullet had gone straight through
(praise the Lord, thought Nathan) although it had done so perilously
close to the lung. Chris now faced the dangers of inflammation and
infection, both of which could cause damage to the pleural membrane, which
enclosed the lung, and even cause the lung to collapse. Nathan knew
he would be ill-equipped to deal with a collapsed lung, should this take
place.
Nathan's second patient was Buck Wilmington.
His trauma was quite different. He had not been shot, rather he had
been singed and beaten. Buck's eyes and nose watered, as they tried
to rid themselves of the tiny particles therein. The ladies man had
developed a rasping cough from smoke inhalation, made more painful by the
three broken ribs in his left side. He had fallen, helpless, into
the hands of his opponents and been brutally beaten for his misfortune.
The door creaked open and one of the ranchers'
gunslingers stepped inside. Nathan glared at him, directing all his
anger at what had befallen the town and his friends at this one individual.
The man, sadistic coward that he was, had come to see for himself the mighty
peackeepers in defeat. He had worked for the ranchers for many years
now and was glad to see these men brought low.
He moved toward Chris Larabee, a smirk on
his face. "Not so big, now, are ya, Larabee," he chuckled at his
own daring, speaking to this man this way, "I'd like to see you outdraw
me now, he he he." The gunman reached out a hand to grasp the bandaged
shoulder of his enemy.
Nathan flew across the room, over Buck's bed,
without even disturbing him, and grabbed the mercenary by the throat.
With a snarl, he dragged the man across the floor and threw him against
the door, the healer's hand firmly over the weaker man's throat.
He brought his face up close to the other's, forcing him to look into his
eyes. "This is my clinic, these are my patients. You come here
again, I kill you."
The ranchers' man stumbled out of the door,
shaking. He was in no doubt the healer meant every word. A
man caring for his own could be a determined and dangerous thing.
Vin, Josiah and JD sat on the ground, thinking
of what to do next. The day was coming to an end and the sun was
quickly falling behind the horizon .
"The army has been called, but we can't wait
for them. They could be days," moaned JD. Upon finding his
friends, the boy had let go of some of his panic and was now allowing himself
to feel his exhaustion.
Vin nodded. "There's nothin' we can
do tonight, though. Tonight, we sleep on it, try to think up some
way inside. We make our move in the mornin'," Vin watched his young
friend yawn, knowing he would need all the rest he could get.
"I'll take first watch," volunteered Josiah.
JD gratefully made up his bedroll, not even noticing his friends move off
to the side.
"Wait until tomorrow?" Josiah raised his eyebrows
at the tracker.
Vin sighed. "The kid's beat," he said,
"and, anyhow, I reckon there's one more gun we can recruit by dawn."
"We can use every gun we can get," Josiah
agreed. "What ya gonna do?"
"Something I shoulda done a while ago," with
that, the tracker saddled and mounted his horse and headed off toward the
nearest gambling hall.
Nathan slept uncomfortably in his chair.
Every movement within the clinic and every sound from without wakened him,
sending him checking his patients and further barricading the doors and
windows. He had been given permission to remain in the town by the
men now looting it. Needless to say, he did not trust them to keep
their word.
There was movement on the roof of the clinic.
Nathan stood, gazing upward, trying to think of a way the pillagers could
get in from up there. He couldn't think of anything, unless they
tried to pry up the shingles. He loaded his gun, preparing to dissuade
any who did.
With a sudden scramble, Nathan heard the men
jump from the roof to that of a nearby building. He wondered what
had happened. Why bother climbing up there, only to jump off?
Then he smelled it, the acrid scent of smoke drifted into the room.
With a furious growl, Nathan grabbed a blanket
and wet it with a small amount of his precious water reserve, before following
the smoke trail to it source. The fire was eating through the roof,
gradually impinging on the ceiling. Nathan tore down the barricade
from one of the windows and climbed out onto the roof. The fire danced
around him, quickly consuming the dry wood of the shingles, as he beat
at them furiously with the blanket. Within minutes the fire was out.
Nathan stepped back through the window, resurrected the barricade and resumed
his place in the chair. Please, Lord, don't let them try that,
again.
Josiah sat on top of a rock, gazing at the
rising moon. It was full and clear, reflecting none of the chaos
below it. The preacher had decided not to wake JD for his watch,
he would allow the boy to get as much sleep as he needed. Old
dogs like me don't need as much. What Josiah needed was guidance.
"I guess it's just You and me, now," he began.
"I can tell You, I could use a little help. I'm not sure how it happened,
but the bad guys are winning. I don't think we can do anything about
it, alone," he looked away from the stars, fixing his gaze on the glowing
ruins of the town. "There are a lot of innocent people down there.
I want to help them, but, lately, it's as if I've forgotten how.
Maybe I've lost my way."
Josiah sat for a while, contemplating the
world around him. A breeze moved past him, across his face and through
his hair, relieving some of the summer heat. "A man can find his
way. I've done it before, but, this time, I don't know where to start.
I know we should make a stand for the town, but how? We can't go
charging into that place, it would accomplish nothing and get even more
of my friends killed." He resumed his silent meditation, hoping some
idea would come to him.
After a while, Josiah lost patience.
"I would really have thought helping me out, here, would be in Your best
interests," he glared accusingly at the sky. Great, Josiah, get
Him pissed, right before a gunfight. The big man shook his head.
"No man's faith should be so variable, 'specially a preacher, but sometimes
I think I'm howling at the moon."
Vin travelled from gambling house to gambling
house, asking after his missing friend. The resident gamblers remembered
Ezra well, even after several months; the had cleaned them out very nicely.
Some could even tell him the direction in which Standish had left.
Vin rode on, never losing the scent.
He had expected Standish's path to lead him
far from Four Corners. Instead, he found that the gambler had been
circling the township, only gradually moving away. It was as if
Ezra, having left the city limits, could not quite bring himself to finally
depart. It was almost three in the morning when Vin finally hunted
down his quarry and at this time they were not even five hours ride from
Josiah and JD.
Ezra had finished his night's gambling.
He heart was no longer in it, as it had been. Casually, he wondered
if he should go back to conning. The money was good. He snorted
and set aside this idea. You're not that far gone, he thought,
yet.
He took another swig from the whiskey bottle he held and stared out into
the night.
Vin watched him, unable to believe what he
saw. The gambler had lost weight, even in this short time.
As Vin approached, he saw the circles under his friend's eyes. His
clothing, while still of quality far above anything anyone else wore, seemed
less crisp and cared for. Ezra was not doing well, alone. A
spark of hope flared in Vin. Maybe he needs us, after all.
"Ezra?" Vin began.
The gambler spun around, derringer in hand.
Seeing the source of the voice, he frowned, wary of the man before him.
"Mr Tanner? For what purpose do you visit this... fair... town?"
"I'm lookin' f'or you. We need help."
This simple statement had a peculiar effect
on the gambler. While he maintained his poker face, his eyes became
dark and cruel. His laugh was laced with malice. "Is that so,
Mr Tanner? My esteemed colleagues are unable to function without
me."
At first, Vin didn't understand. Would
Ezra really leave his friends, when they faced such trouble? Then
he understood, it wasn't that Ezra wouldn't help, it was merely that he
didn't believe they needed him. The malice was directed at himself.
"I'm serious, Ezra. The ranchers've tried again. We're in real
trouble."
Ezra shook his head and turned to walk away.
Ever since he had left Four Corners, he had been convincing himself that
he could not be trusted. It made it easier to be alone. During
his time in jail, Ezra had recognized how much he had cared for the people
of the town. He needed the respect of his colleagues, their camaraderie.
And Mary... a lump which had been lodged in his gut since Quist's accusation
shifted and grew with the thought. Ezra looked at the man standing
before him and realised how much his friendship had come to mean.
But gutter trash like him could only cause them pain. He had not
run out on them, but one day he would - he knew that now.
Vin caught up with the gambler and walked
by his side. "Please. We don't have much time."
"I can't, Vin. This is for the best."
"No. We need you. Chris and Buck
are wounded, Nathan trapped in the clinic. I'm begging you."
Ezra stopped. Chris and Buck injured?
Vin wouldn't lie about that. He glanced at the tracker, sincerity
filled Vin's eyes. Ezra nodded and they headed for the stables.
JD awoke with the dawn and rubbed his eyes.
"Josiah! Why didn't you wake me up?"
The preacher smiled, wearily. "Couldn't'a
slept, anyway."
This did little to appease the sheriff, he
hated to be coddled. He ate some of the breakfast Josiah had prepared,
sullenly. "So where's Vin?" he asked.
"Off ta find help."
"From where? There's not a gun for three
days that would stand up to these guys."
"It's wonderful to know you hold your opponents
in such high esteem."
The southern accent was music to the boy's
ears. "Ezra! You've come back!"
"Temporarily, I assure you."
Josiah grinned and handed the gambler some
hard tack, as he took a seat at the camp site. Vin sat beside him,
exhausted. Ezra broke the tack in half and gave him some.
Vin grinned. "Told you I'd find him."
"No you didn't. No one tells me anything!"
JD was trying very hard to be angry, but just couldn't do it. Ezra
laughed, feeling, again, the companionship he had left.
It had been a quiet night for Nathan.
With nightfall, the looters had congregated in the saloon, leaving the
township until the morrow. Both his charges regained consciousness.
Chris had come around first, still feeling weak, but very much within his
senses. Nathan fussed, trying to get him to lie still; movement would
only exacerbate the injury, increasing the inflammation. Chris was
actually quite obedient... for him.
Buck was not as lucky. Blows to the
head had been severe. When he awoke, he sat bolt upright, not knowing
where he was. This obviously caused him some pain, but he tried not
to show it.
"What's goin' on?" he demanded, every muscle
tensed.
"It's okay, Buck," Nathan approached his charge
and laid his hand on Buck's forehead. Buck's eyes roamed wildly,
before falling on his friend. Nathan wondered if Buck really saw
him, he seemed so disoriented.
"What's going on?" Buck seemed suspicious,
as if not really recognsing the healer.
"Temporary effects of your injuries, Buck,"
Chris supplied. No one had time to think about permanent damage.
Wilmington relaxed with the sound of his old companion's voice.
The healer smoothed his friend's forehead
with a cool cloth and gave him some tea to ease the pain. "Just lie
back and sleep."
Weary from the ordeal and the herbs, Buck
did just that.
"So what's the plan?" JD was impatient to
get going.
Vin glanced at Josiah, hoping he had come
up with something. The preacher shook his head.
"During our journey, Mr Tanner saw fit to
mention a series of raids being perpetrated against our local farmers.
Are these infamous acts ongoing?"
The others nodded, not seeing where this was
headed.
"How many vermin commonly participate in such
violations?"
"'Tween four and six," Josiah supplied, starting
to smile. "They're 'bout due to hit the Henry's place today.
They're real regular about these things, too." By now, both Vin and
JD were grinning.
"Well, gentlemen, might I suggest we go procure
ourselves some 'sheep's clothing'?"
The Henry family bred pigs and chickens, mostly.
They had only two horses and no cattle, but their small concern generated
enough produce to keep them all fed and cared for, so they were satisfied.
They were no threat to the ranchers, but land is land and they were in
the way.
The five ranchers' men approached the homestead
in a casual manner. They and the landowners knew the drill; yell
at the farmers, threaten the women and children, kill a few animals...
it was all getting quite dull. They were surprised that Mr Henry
didn't come out to greet them. There was usually some show of defiance,
so attempt to defend the home. Maybe they've wised up and left,
on of the ranchers mused. They had reached the homestead, dismounted
and moved away from their horses before they detected any signs of life.
"Gentlemen," spoke a smooth southern voice,
originating from the trail behind them. They turned to see the seventh
gunslinger, flaming red coat and smart-alec grin. "I am pleased to
inform you, today's pillaging has been cancelled. Instead, my companions
and I will be removing your firearms and restraining your hands."
Three other men appeared, the sheriff out
the front of the homestead, the preacher out from beside the small barn
and the sharpshooter from the roof of the barn. The men looked at
each other, wondering if there was some way to escape, but they were surrounded.
Only a complete fool would attempt to escape the tracker's rifle and, while
these five were foolish, they weren't that far gone. They raised
their hands above their heads, in surrender.
It was just past midday when the sentries
saw the pillaging party return to the town. The hats coats and horses
were distinctive, even at a distance. That was quick, they must
be getting good. Only four, though five had left... the bosses
would hate that.
"Hey, you," one of the sentries called down
from the bell tower, "what happened ta number five?"
Vin made a face. They had wanted to
get into the town before being challenged, but that was not to be.
"Shot. Couple of farmers got sneaky," he called back.
The sentry shook his head. "Ya off ta
tell 'is boss? Better you 'an me."
Vin nodded and the four rode on. They
had passed the first test.
The looters were on the roof again, and in
its fire-weakened state, Nathan was unsure if it would hold.
"We're gotta get outa here, Chris," he whispered,
hoping not to wake his other patient.
"Where else is there? Ain't nowhere
safe while these bastards hold the town."
Nathan nodded. Things looked bad.
"I'll take a look around, see if I can find somewhere." He handed
Chris the shotgun he had been nursing and unbarricaded the door.
The street was actually pretty quiet.
Most of the valuables had already been stripped from the town, so the men
had moved on to the smaller shops and homes, gleaning the scraps.
The four peackeepers rode slowly down main street, trying to appear inconspicuous.
For the most part, they succeeded, however, Vin was getting the feeling
they were being watched. Behind them. a shadow slipped through the
side streets, attempting to get a better look at the horsemen. Finally,
as they passed the entrance of a particularly dark alley, Vin leapt from
his horse and tackled the shadow.
"Nathan? What the hell are you doin',
trailin' us like that?"
The healer picked himself up off the ground.
"Had to be sure it was you," Nate grinned from ear to ear.
"Touching as this reunion is, might it be
postponed until a more opportune place at which to conduct it is located?"
Nathan turned, more than a little surprised,
to see the gambler standing in the mouth of the alley. "Ezra?
You're back?!" His smile grew wider.
Ezra shook his head. "More opportune
place?" he reminded, a smile creeping across his own countenance to match
the healer's. Ezra had been unsure if Nathan would welcome his return.
The two had made disagreeing an art form. They had been at odds from
the outset, but, today, there was no question of Nathan's pleasure at seeing
the prodigal son.
JD took the horses to the stables, while the
others returned to the clinic. By the time he rejoined them, the
beginnings of a plan had formed.
"We move tonight, when they're all raising
hell in the saloon," summarised Chris, filling JD in on proceedings, "we
begin by hitting the whiskey stores."
JD raised an eyebrow. "We're blowing
up the whiskey?"
Buck, listening from the next bed, groaned.
"You okay, pard?" asked Vin, worried for
his injured friend.
"I won't be if you ruin all the whiskey,"
came the petulant reply.
JD looked at Ezra. "You're really gonna
burn down y'r mother's saloon?"
Ezra's face adopted a malevolent expression,
then he shrugged. "It's insured."
JD laughed. "Okay."
As night fell, Ezra, Vin, JD and Josiah left
the clinic and positioned themselves around the town. Ezra, dispensing
with his distinctive coat, withdrew into the darkest corner of the saloon,
sipping whiskey and waiting for the night time rush. Vin climbed
the bell tower, rifle in hand. JD went to the stables, where he silently
opened the stalls and untied the horses, providing them with free access
to the door. Painfully, he glanced at some already-burnt fodder and
remembered the day before, when Buck had been smoked out of that very place.
Finally, Josiah installed himself in the alley behind the sheriff's office.
The night fell quickly and the looters retired
to the saloon, from their labour. There were no working girls to
entertain them, nor even town's women to harass; everyone had already moved
on. So the men had to make do with drinking, gambling and the occasional
fight. Not a bad arrangement.
Ezra watched for about an hour, wanting to
be sure as many of the ranchers' men were present as possible to witness
his display. Having chosen his moment, he silently walked toward
the door of the saloon. A few feet from the entrance, he turned and
pulled a rock swathed in rags from his pocket. It smelled of kerosene.
He weighed it in his hand for a moment, before producing a match from his
other pocket and striking it against the wall. In their drunkenness,
not one man saw his actions, until the flaming projectile flew through
the air, smashing into the liquor shelves behind the bar. The bottles
that had been hit shattered and others broke as they fell from the shelves.
The fire spread across the wall in an ever growing wall of flames.
Ezra casually walked out and into the general store.
This was JD's signal to move. Shouting
and slapping the horses on their rumps, he emptied the stables of all its
inhabitants. He then grabbed a handful of straw and set it alight,
spreading the flames around the straw-covered floor. He, too, left
his hiding place and hid himself in the telegraph office.
Josiah glanced down at the small earthenware
pot in his hands. Tonight, it held a quart of lamp oil. Hearing
the horses galloping from the stables, he threw the pot into the jail,
through the window of the cell, and heard it smash on the floor.
A lit match followed it. As the blaze grew, Josiah ambled off toward
the telegraph office.
From the bell tower, Vin could see the chaos
unfold. It began as smoke poured from the saloon. While some
of the ranchers' men tried to fight the fire, others left them to it, spilling
out into the street. Vin almost felt guilty - it was like shooting
ducks in a barrel - but then he remembered what they had done to Four Corners
and got down to business.
It took the ranchers' men half an hour to
truly grasp the situation. Three fires had sprung up, all at once
and they were at their wits' ends trying to deal with all. In the
confusion, people seemed to be dropping dead, from bullet wounds.
When they finally realized what was going on, the battle was lost.
The remaining few, ten at most, rode out of the town on whichever horse
they could catch.
It took less than a week for the resiliant
townfolk to return to Four Corners. Most of the money and valuables
had been abandoned by the thieves, but the town was all but destroyed.
Never mind. Most of the citizens could remember starting from scratch.
This wasn't so bad.
Chris and Buck slowly regained their strength.
In the process they sapped most of Nathan's, as he desperately tried to
make them remain quiet. Having defeated the ranchers, they no longer
felt the need to behave themselves.
It was during such a bout of wilfulness, that
Chris dragged himself out of bed and into the saloon. A good half
of the building was gone, but the rest was alright and Inez was making
the best of things while rebuilding began. Ezra sat at his usual
table, as if nothing were amiss.
"So, you stayin'?"
Ezra had to admire the gunslinger's forthrightness.
"Regrettably, no. While I have never wished to remain more than at
present, my reasons for leaving have not altered."
"You want to stay, we want you to stay.
What the hell's the problem?" Larabee was getting more worked up than was
good for him.
"Trust. I cannot be trusted. That
could ultimately prove fatal to one of our associates."
"No. We needed you and you were here.
You want trust? We were in trouble and Vin headed straight for you.
I gave you a chance, once. It's time you returned the favour."
Chris stalked off, back to the clinic. Ezra watched him leave, then
smiled. As you wish, fearless leader.
Now these are the Laws of
the Jungle, and many and mighty are they;
But the head and the hoof
of the Law and the haunch and the hump is - Obey!
The End
