MEN WILL RISE
by C.V. Puerro |
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Ah, to think how thin the veil that lies |
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MEN WILL RISE
by C.V. Puerro |
|
Ah, to think how thin the veil that lies |
|
JD was so thirsty when consciousness finally forced his sore eyes open, but the room was too bright and he immediately squinted his lids shut. He licked his dry lips and took a deep breath before rolling onto his back, and bumping into someone else.The kid mumbled, "vvnn," as he remembered ... something, though it was vague and ill formed in his mind.
"Gwyn, that's right, darlin'," a gentle voice breathed in his ear. "Did ya sleep well?"
But JD didn't answer her question. Instead, he shielded his eyes with his hand as he opened them again. He looked about the room, trying to remember the night before. But his head was clouded by alcohol vapors. On the floor he spotted the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He couldn't have drunk it all ... no, someone had helped him. Someone....
"Darlin'? Somethin' I can do for you?"
JD turned his head to look at the woman, hardly more than a girl really, maybe a couple years older than himself. "Were you here last night?" he asked, really feeling as if he'd never laid eyes on her before now.
"Sure was," she smiled.
JD swallowed, and then cleared his throat. "But I wasn't alone, right?"
"You were when I got here."
"But, I came here with someone else." JD knew he had, at least it seemed like he had. "Didn't I?"
She shrugged, and JD got the feeling she wasn't being entirely truthful with him.
"Gwyn," he repeated her name, but it didn't sound right to him. She kissed his ear, obviously thinking he was asking something of her, but her touch didn't seem right either. He rolled away, but she kept a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing the muscles there. He stared at the nearby tub, filled with grimy-looking water, but he didn't remember bathing.
She whispered in his ear. "Isn't there anything you want to do this mornin'?"
A small voice sounded in JD's head — "lead and they will follow" — and, without further thought, he acted on the words. He rolled onto his other side and pushed the girl onto her back. He then kissed her, hard, as he moved his hand up her arm and across her shoulder. She giggled, and, again, it didn't sound right to JD's ears. Still, he persisted, moving his hand down, but stopping when he felt the firm edge of her corset.
"This ain't right," he said, sitting up. "What's your name again?"
"Gwyn," she replied, a little impatiently.
Then it struck him. Not Gwyn: Vin. He'd come up here with Vin last night. They were drinking and talking and ... oh my gawd. No. JD couldn't believe the thought he'd just had. He couldn't have, they couldn't have. Vin wouldn't have.
Would he?
Images seemed to flood into the kid's head now, so fast that he could hardly process them. The tub, he remembered: Vin bathing; both of them drinking; a washcloth; Vin standing there, naked, dripping wet, as he took the towel JD was offering him....
"You gotta leave now," he told the girl.
"Huh? But we haven't ... I mean, don't you wanna...."
No, we haven't, and the rest of the memories came on him in a torrent. "Get out!" he nearly yelled at the girl, who quickly gathered her things and left.
He remembered undressing. He remembered touching and being touched. He knew there were words, not many, but some, except he couldn't exactly remember them.
Hastily he dressed, dropping to the floor finally to put his socks and shoes on. It was only then that he noticed the brown bandanna lying on the floor. For a moment he was afraid to touch it, but his arm reached out as if it had a mind of its own. He brought the cloth up to his nose, which wrinkled in distaste as he recognized the pungent odor — sweat — but there was also something unique and familiar about the scent. Again, another memory flashed into his head: his arms wrapped around Vin's waist, his face resting against the man's sweaty back.
He wanted to throw the bandanna away, to bury it, to burn it, and as he continued to think of all the way of destroying the fabric, he stuffed it into his jacket pocket. He then strapped on his guns and went looking for trouble.
He slammed the door behind him, stalking off down the hall, almost running down the stairs, then out of Digger Dave's saloon and into the street. He was blinded by the bright morning sunlight for a moment, but he blinked and squinted until his eyes stopped protesting. Then he scanned the avenue, carefully checking up and down both boardwalks.
Nothing.
He then made his way south toward the edge of town. It was the only place he could think to look at that hour. Past the hotel, past the gallows, around the bend, he saw what he was looking for. The covered wagon. Reaching it, he banged his fist against the wooden sideboard.
The occupant had a gun in the young man's face an instant later. "JD! I coulda shot ya," Vin said as he holstered his weapon and shook his head.
Immediately, JD grabbed the man by his collar, yanking him from the wagon and onto the ground. Vin scrambled back to his feet, but a firm, strong blow instantly met his jaw.
This time the tracker stayed on the ground. He looked up at JD like the boy was a wildcat that had lost its mind.
"How dare you!" JD shouted at him. "Leavin' me there, like I wouldn't remember what you did!"
"JD—" Vin began, but the kid cut him off.
"Shut up. Just shut up! I trusted you. I thought you were my friend." JD was holding the side of his head now, trying to control the throbbing that threatened his upright position.
Vin took the opportunity to get to his feet, this time keeping well out of JD's reach, just in case. "Kid. I was only tryin' ta help. Ya gotta believe me. I didn't plan any of that."
"Shut up," the kid shouted again, but it came out as more of a groan. "Oh gawd," he said suddenly as he fell to his knees and began heaving his guts into the dirt. Vin moved behind him, to lend him a supporting hand, but even in his distress, JD managed to push the slightly older man away.
From somewhere Buck Wilmington appeared — on morning patrol of the town — and helped the weakened kid back to his feet. "What in tarnation's goin' on here?"
JD felt ashamed, not only for the mess he'd just left in the street, but also for what had happened the night before with Vin. And he didn't want anyone to find out!
"Nothin'," he managed to answer, still spitting the acidic taste of vomit from his mouth.
"The kid had a bit too much ta drink last night," Vin offered, but JD threw him a glare, the best warning he could give under the circumstances. Vin made a slight motion with his hands, which JD interpreted as the tracker's word he'd keep silent.
"Lemme go, Buck," JD croaked as he wrenched himself away, lurching a bit as he walked down the street, wanting to run. He was thankful that no one seemed to be following him.
He reached the stables before he even realized he'd walked that far. Grabbing his tack off the shelves, he made his way to the stall where he kept his horse. Morning feed had been given already, he noted, and his gelding was happily munching away. He let him continue as he began the rote process of prepping the beast for a ride — the brushing of the hide, the picking of the hooves. He saddled him up, allowed the horse to finish its last mouthful of alfalfa, and then coaxed the bit into its mouth, looping the bridle over its head.
Leading the horse out into the cool morning air, he closed the barn doors, and then swung himself up into the saddle. JD had to fight the urge to spur the horse into a full run. He may need that sort of release, but he knew his horse needed time to warm up its muscles and settle its breakfast.
They walked north out of town, away from the direction he'd come, away from where he'd left Vin and Buck, praying that the tracker would keep his mouth shut. Then again, JD wondered what Vin could say, what wouldn't be as embarrassing to himself as it was to JD.
"Bastard!" he cursed into the wind.
"Don't rightly know," Vin said, and then crawled back into his wagon.
"Well, ain't ya the least bit curious?" Buck asked, almost poking his head inside the place Vin called home these days.
"Nope," was all he said before pulling closed the back flap, in essence shutting Buck out.
Vin heard the tall man mumbling as he walked off in frustration, scuffing the dirt with his boots.
But Vin was curious about JD. He gave the kid every opportunity to remember only what he wanted to about last night. Gave him every chance to chalk it up to the confusions and vagaries of drunken dreams. Yet the kid had come all the way down here, in full hearing distance of many of the town's residents to bust his ass for what had happened.
Vin angrily stuffed a few things into his saddlebag, a clean shirt, and an extra pair of pants this time.... "Stupid kid!" he mumbled.
But then he thought of JD waking up in that bed, his mind still clouded by all the alcohol from the night before. Of course he wouldn't be thinking straight, of course he'd let his confusion rule his head.
Now who's stupid? he asked himself. Just as most of the men he knew would look at a situation long and carefully before deciding a course of action, he realized JD would do just the opposite, going off half-cocked, driven by his emotions, with little thought to motivations or consequences.
Hell, the kid probably thought he'd taken advantage of him! Getting him drunk on purpose, like it had been a set up. Oh, he groaned, realizing this must be exactly what the kid was thinking. Vin now figured he was lucky the kid hadn't come after him with guns drawn!
"Great. Now what?" He had to do something, but he didn't even know where to begin. This wasn't exactly the sort of thing you could talk over with just anyone. He didn't even know anyone who would really understand. Josiah, the trained but fallen priest? No. He wasn't looking for forgiveness — despite what JD currently thought, Vin really had done what he felt the kid needed at that moment. Nathan, the healer? But what was there to heal besides JD's pride and his own bruised jaw?
A thought occurred to him then, he might know one person. He could try anyway — size up the situation, then decide if he'd actually say anything. Vin certainly didn't want to break his unspoken promise to JD, but if it might help the kid, well, Vin figured he owed him that much.
Not long after, he rode south out of town, very much conscious that it was the opposite direction from which he had last seen JD headed. But he wasn't heading that way to avoid him — though the kid would probably be grateful for it if he knew.
Not thirty minutes out, at a very leisurely walk, Vin pulled his horse to a stop and swung himself out of the saddle. "Mornin'," he called.
The man, dressed in a once-white undershirt and a pair of black pants, nodded a greeting as he lowered the roof on what looked like a small hen house. Vin noticed a basket in his hands as Chris approached. "You come for breakfast?" the older man asked.
"If yer offerin'," Vin smiled, never one to shun the hospitality of the few friends he had.
"You're in luck, I've had a windfall." Chris held the basket out for inspection. It contained four not very large eggs, making the small basket seem grossly over-sized.
Vin didn't understand any of this. Chris was a drifter, always had been — except for those few years he'd spent with a now-dead wife and son — and this didn't seem to be a place Chris would care to settle down in, either. Too many homesteaders, he always complained, with more coming every month. "Yer keepin' chickens now?"
"Just a few," Chris replied.
The two went inside the small cabin, which still held a bit of the previous night's chill, despite the rising sun outside. It was small, sparse — almost barren, with only a door, a window, two shelves, a table, a small stove for cooking and warmth, and a bed. Still, it had more trappings than his own wagon, he had to admit, though he wasn't sure if he was really jealous; at least you could hitch up a wagon and move it should you choose to.
Chris went immediately to the stove, first stirring the lightly golden, lumpy contents of a cast-iron skillet, then setting a small frying pan down next to it. As the pan heated, Chris turned to look at his visitor. "Well?"
Vin raised his light-brown eyebrows but did not answer.
"You gonna tell me what brings you all the way out here?" Chris finally prompted him.
"Breakfast," the tracker replied with a smile.
"I know as well as you do that Inez could put my slop to shame without even trying. What are you really doing out here?" Chris persisted. And, when Vin didn't answer, he asked, "It have anything to do with that fist-mark on your jaw?"
The tracker sighed as he unconsciously rubbed the offending spot. He wanted to tell Chris, but he had promised JD. He just couldn't think of a way to explain it, especially when he didn't understand it all himself.
While Chris waited patiently for Vin, he reached over to the nearby shelf and removed a small clay pot. He removed the lid, scooped out a small daub of solid, white lard that he dropped into the pan he was heating — it slowly began to sizzle — and then he replaced the pot on the shelf before turning back to face his friend.
"I think I made a mess of somethin'," Vin finally said, hoping he could get away with generalities, without naming names. "I was tryin' ta help a friend, but he, ah, seems ta have gotten the wrong impression."
"Can't think of any mere wrong impressions that would produce that violent of a reaction. Care to be more specific?"
Vin shook his head. This really had been a bad idea, another bad idea. Vin sighed as he stood. "I better just go. I'll see ya back in town."
But as he reached for the door, he heard the cracking of an egg and then the loud sizzle as it hit the hot surface of the pan.
"If you really wanna help out a friend, you won't make him eat alone," Chris said, and Vin heard another egg being cracked. The wonderful, warm, inviting odors of the morning meal were beginning to fill the small shack. And Vin had to admit to himself that he was hungry, for both the food Chris was cooking and for the company he was providing.
He turned back. "If ya insist," Vin conceded as he again took the chair furthest away from the stove.
Chris immediately handed him a knife, a small wood-board, and two stalks of what looked like some undernourished vegetable. Vin turned his eyes up to meet Chris's, waiting for some help, some instructions.
"They're green onions," the gunman said, as if that were enough. But Vin neither nodded nor averted his gaze. "They come like that. Just lop off the roots, then chop up the rest." Chris turned away again to mind the cooking meal.
Vin plied the knife to the crisp greenery, and then said to his friend's back, "So, yer gardenin', too?"
"Ain't much. Not likely to keep a rabbit alive during a good year. You want your eggs flipped?"
"Depends," Vin hesitated, not sure how much to push this man's hospitality. "Uh, is there bread?" Chris turned his head and nodded, to which Vin shook his head, no.
Chris furrowed his brow slightly, but didn't ask the obvious question: what having one had to do with not flipping the other. He turned back to the pan, but did not touch the eggs. Then, he added, "And, before you ask, no, I'm not baking."
But Vin noticed he'd left it at that, giving no information about where the bread had come from. A gift from Mary, maybe? Or Mrs. Potter? Or maybe he'd simply bought it at the grocery.
Chris reached over and took the cutting board with the chopped green onions from Vin, then said, "Grab them plates?"
Vin took two of the three plates that were stacked at the side of the table over to the stove. Chris finished stirring the greens into the far skillet, then began loading each plate up with eggs, chunks of golden-fried potatoes now dotted with bits of green, and a heaping spoonful of beans from the pot sitting off on the back burner. Vin returned the plates to the table and Chris followed, producing two spoons and a small loaf of bread wrapped in cloth.
The tracker immediately headed for the bread, tearing off a good-sized chunk before offering it to Chris, who just set it back down, untouched. Vin then tore part of the crust away and used it to break both of his yolks; he then mopped up the golden liquid with the rest of the bread.
Impolite as it was, Chris just stared. When Vin finally noticed, Chris excused himself: "Sorry. Isn't any of my business, but where'd a man like you learn to do such a thing to his eggs?"
Vin was silent for a moment. When Chris Larabee asked him question, Vin felt obliged to give him an honest answer. "I ain't never had much in this world," he began slowly as the feelings took shape into words. "No family ... no home" — he waved a piece of dry bread at the walls of Chris's cabin. "And there ain't much ease in this life we've chosen; ya know that. A feller just has ta take pleasure where he kin find it." Vin then swept up a glob of yolk and stuffed the dripping bread into his mouth, smiling back at his host.
"I suppose there's no harm in that," Chris smiled.
Vin was suddenly reminded of JD again and the smile slipped from his face. He hung his head to hide his change of expression from Chris. Maybe Chris was wrong. Maybe there was harm in it — in what he'd done to the kid.
The two men then finished their meal in silence, and Vin was suddenly thankful Chris wasn't really the talkative sort.
As he repositioned himself for the tenth time in so many minutes, he caught sight of a rider coming around the far bend in the road. From this distance, he couldn't tell who it was, so he unhooked the catch on each of his sidearms, just in case. But, in a few more minutes the figure became familiar to him, and he called out, "Casey!"
She waved a greeting back, reaching him just shortly after. "What are ya doin' way out here, JD?" she immediately asked as she turned her horse around to travel beside him.
"Ridin', same as you," he said, suddenly remembering why he had wanted to be alone in the first place.
"Well, I'm not just ridin'," she corrected. "Nettie's got me out here runnin' an errand." She wrinkled her nose, obviously not pleased to be performing the task.
"What's so bad 'bout it?" JD asked, knowing there were a lot more important things in the world to be upset about than running a stupid errand.
"Caroline Hamilton's back in town" — the name perked up JD's ears — "and I'm ta bring her a present." JD asked, how come, and Casey explained, obviously happy to have someone to confide in. "Well, it's the proper, neighborly thing ta do, Nettie says, but I don't care. Caroline was a stuck up brat before her parents sent her away ta finishin' school back east and now she's twice as bad.
"I don't know what her folks were thinkin'," Casey continued and JD listened intently. "Not like bein' able ta read Latin or knowin' 'bout some foreign paintin's is gonna do her any good way out here. They'da been better off givin' her a gun and teachin' her ta shoot straight!"
Casey crossed her arms over her chest, and JD almost laughed. "Yer jealous!" he accused.
"Jealous? Of what? Her and those fancy dresses ya gotta hire a maid do up fer ya? No, I ain't. I just think all that learnin' didn't do her one whit'a good. She's still a conceited girl who lives ta show up anyone she thinks beneath her, which is just 'bout everybody in this here territory."
"I've met her," JD said quietly, but Casey heard him loud and clear. She turned to him suddenly, her eyes wide with confusion, curiosity, and a bit of anger. But she waited silently for him to continue.
"She seemed nice," JD began, but was quickly interrupted.
"Nice? Her?!"
JD nodded then continued, "Her dresses look just like the ones I used ta see the ladies wearin' when I lived in New York. She even wears ribbons in her hair and carries a lace parasol." JD didn't seem to notice Casey casually but pointedly brushing the dust off the coarse fabric of her trousers. "And she smells like flowers — lilies ... and lilacs."
JD almost sighed with the memory: Caroline wasn't like any of the women he'd seen since heading west. Even Mary Travis couldn't hold a candle to her. But she'd also been the one who'd started all of this. She'd seen him staring and had called him over. Once introduced, Miss Hamilton had allowed him to escort her all over town as she visited with each of the shopkeepers she remembered from her childhood just two years before. He'd found her delightful — so pretty, so delicate, so proper — just like the graceful young daughter in the household where he'd grown up. There, in New York, he'd been a servant and beneath his employer's class, but he was a sheriff now, a protector and savior of this very town. Heck, some even called him a hero. He felt himself Caroline's equal here, if nowhere else. So, when they finally arrived at her carriage, JD had struck up enough nerve to ask to see her again.
She rudely laughed, loud enough to turn the heads of everyone nearby. "Dinner? With you?" she'd muled. "You couldn't satisfy a goat with a handful of barley!" And with that she had taken the reins from his stupefied hands and ridden off.
JD looked over at Casey now. There she sat, astride her horse, dressed much like himself in trousers, a shirt and vest, and a well-worn but sturdy hat that kept the sun out of her pretty brown eyes. He smiled, but she had her head down and didn't see him.
"She might think she's better 'an everyone else, but I bet she can't ride half as good as you," JD said, trying to perk both himself and Casey back up, then he spurred his horse off into a gallop. A moment later, he heard hoof beats fast approaching and knew the voice in the back of his head had been right, "Decide where ya wanna go, and they will follow."
Chris paused in his task to watch his friend of a few minutes. "It might be easier on the ax if you just beat the wood into submission first," he finally said. And the comment seemed to take the wind right out of the tracker, who let the ax slip harmlessly to the ground.
A moment later Vin felt his friend's arm around his shoulder, Chris's fingers pressing briefly into his slick skin, trying to coax out of him an answer to the question which Chris'd been asking all morning. But still the tracker said nothing. The older man sighed audibly next to Vin's ear, then he whispered, "Ain't no one gonna hear you out here and I promise it won't go no farther."
Vin gently twisted out from under the comforting arm and moved away, but only far enough to sit down on the edge of the porch. Chris walked in the other direction, stopped at the water barrel and scooped out a cup-full of the cool liquid, which he then brought to the younger man.
Chris resumed his place beside his friend, watching him drink deeply from the tin, and then asked, "So, what happened between you and JD?"
Vin nearly choked on the water in his mouth. "How— how'd ya know?"
Chris smiled. "Didn't. Just a guess: an educated one, Ezra would say. There ain't many we really call friends in this town, and there ain't but a few in that bunch who could hit you as hard as this" — Chris gently fingered the still-darkening bruise, but pulled back when Vin winced slightly — "and leave you worried instead of mad."
Vin hung his head. It was out there, the truth, or part of it anyway. He felt Chris's hand on his shoulder again, and then felt it slip part way down his arm. Chris rubbed the skin a little, giving him a little squeeze.
Gawd, this was so hard, Vin thought. How can I tell him what I did? As soon as he finds out, he's gonna accuse me of taking advantage of the kid, of getting him drunk on purpose. He won't understand we were both drunk, that I never planned for it to turn out that way. "It just happened," he confessed.
And somehow he dared to look up at Chris, blue eyes meeting green, but there was no accusation there, no anger — only sympathy and concern.
"It just happened," he whispered as his lips met Chris's.
"Just what she wanted ta happen, I reckon. She made me feel exactly like I did when I was a stable boy, no better than the horse manure I shoveled." JD was on his side, chewing on a stalk of wild oats. "But, I just realized somethin', Casey."
She rolled over onto her elbow, her eyes meeting his, paying close attention to his words.
"I ain't that boy no more. I don't shovel shit and I don't have ta take it from no one, neither. She ain't better 'an me, not here. That's why I come west in the first place. Out here it ain't yer breedin' or yer schoolin' that matters, it's yer determination, grit, and perseverance."
"Yeah!" Casey heartily agreed. "What's she good fer anyway, except maybe pourin' tea?" She mimicked the motion, while sticking her pinkie as far out as it would go, then she handed JD the invisible cup. JD took it and bowed his head as they both began to laugh.
"Bet she'd break like a china tea cup if anyone even dared touch her!" Casey added through her giggles.
JD reached over and tickled his companion, "Not like you! Ain't a man in these parts could put a crack in yer hide." But he immediately saw in her face that maybe that wasn't the right sort of thing to say, even in jest. "I just mean," he fumbled.... "Aw, hell, I do mean it! That's what I like about ya." He then grabbed her around her waist and, hugging her to him, rolled the both of them over and down the little hill they were on.
They ended up in a sunny patch of wild flowers, laughing until their sides ached. Casey pulled up a handful of grass, intend on rubbing the blades playfully into JD's dark hair, but he caught her wrist before she even got close. Suddenly, the air around them grew still. They both knew this moment, they'd both experienced it before: that day they'd been out fishing at the pond. But JD had been too scared to move and it was Casey who had come to her senses first, saying she had to get home and swimming off.
Today, again, she was the one to break the mood. Though her hand was still a foot above his head, she sprinkled the grass blades onto his up-turned face, and then twisted her hand free.
"It's worth the risk," that voice in the back of JD's head faintly sounded off again. And, without another thought, he took the chance. He let Casey's wrist go free, but he grabbed her firm around the waist and pulled her down on top of him. He felt a startled breath escape her the instant before his lips met hers.
It was a tender kiss, despite the firm grip JD had on her and couldn't seem to relax. He felt her leg slide off of his, meeting the ground upon which they lay, and he somehow managed to move one hand up to her shoulder as the other one snaked all the way around her waist. He rolled again, but slowly, this time gently placing her back against the ground.
She turned her head away then, and JD was suddenly afraid he'd pushed things too far, until he heard her panting for air. A moment later, she sounded a nervous giggle as she turned back to smile up at him. He returned the emotion, then bent down to kiss her again.
They were both loners, and they both knew it. They had their reasons and they didn't like talking about them. It had been a friendship born of mutual trust and respect, but there had always been something more, an unspoken connection, present that first time their eyes had met.
Vin ran his warm hand up and down his partner's back, almost digging his fingers into the sinewy flesh. His other hand was tangled in the nearly strawberry-blond tresses that Chris too often kept hidden under his black hat. The tracker felt hands on his own skin, down his back, slipping inside the waistband of his pants; a moment later, the hands slid around to the front and began undoing the few buttons which kept them on his tapered hips.
Chris dragged his tongue down Vin's chest to his stomach, as his hands pulled the trousers over his thighs and calves, pooling them at the tracker's feet. A moment later, the unwanted clothing was kicked aside. Chris broke their hold on each other, taking a step back to admire the other man's lean form.
Vin took a step closer, needing the firm arms of Chris around him, but the older man held him away. "Listen," he said very quietly, and they both did.
Just a moment later the sound of hoof beats reached their ears.
Vin immediately looked around for his gun, trying to remember where he had placed it. Chris, knowing exactly where his gun belt was, looked instead for his shirt, quickly finding it just clinging to the edge of the bed. He slipped his arms into it, not bothering with the buttons, and then slung his gun belt over his shoulder.
He stepped out the door just as Vin recovered his own weapon. He motioned for the tracker to say inside, out of sight. Chris then closed the door behind him.
Vin pushed his back flat against the door and listened. He heard Chris's boots moving very slowly across the porch as the hoofbeats continued to approach.
He then heard the crunching of dried grass and dirt, and pictured Chris stepping off the porch, turning the corner. Maybe he was playing it casual, acting like he was just going about his normal chores — yeah, right, Vin thought, with his shirt hanging wide open and his gun belt slung over his shoulder.
Then he heard Chris's voice: "Buck. What're you doing here?"
Buck? Vin's mind raced. Had JD been upset enough to spill his guts to his best friend? Had Buck come out here to do what JD had been too hung-over to do that morning — beat the living crap out of him?
"Ain't no trouble in town, if that's what yer wonderin'. Nope, quiet as a monastery on a Saturday night, at least it is now," he heard Buck reply. And Vin let go a small sigh of relief.
"What do you ya mean now? What happened?" he heard Chris ask, which brought anxiety flooding straight back into Vin's nerves, though you'd never know it to look at the calm exterior of the still-pluck-naked tracker who'd moved nearer the window to better hear the conversation.
"Not much. Just a little scuffle 'tween Vin and JD this mornin' as I was finishin' up my rounds." Vin chose that moment to sneak a quick look out the window: he saw Buck start to lean back a bit in the saddle and his first thought was the man had figured out what had happened; he was going for his gun and he would fight his way into the cabin, through Chris if he had to. But, instead, he saw Buck tuck his hand into his waistband. "But, I don't know what it was about. Haven't seen either of 'em since. Odd."
"Yeah," Chris agreed, without adding anything more. Then there was silence. Vin pushed himself back from the window and imagined Chris still waiting for an answer to his original question.
Buck finally spoke: "So, ah, ya haven't seen ol' JD, have ya? We were supposed ta go fishin' this afternoon ... I kinda thought the kid was lookin' forward ta it."
There was silence, and Vin suspected Chris was shaking his head or shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe he's waiting for you down by the pond," he finally offered.
"Ya know, yer prob'ly right. Shoulda thoughta that first off. Thanks, Chris." Vin knew the conversation was over when he heard the sound of hoofbeats trailing off into the distance.
He pushed himself away from the wall, laying his gun on the table as he passed, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. He had no idea why he was feeling so guilty about what happened. It wasn't like he forced JD. He gave the kid every opportunity to just walk away. He really had just been trying to help.
Vin didn't bother to look up when Chris opened the door.
"Guess you heard," the man said. "Just Buck. Doesn't sound like he knows what happened between you and JD last night."
"Well, I'm still alive, so I guess he don't."
"You really think Buck'd get that upset? I mean, he's not the most open-minded man about this sort of thing, but he's pretty good at letting other people mind their own business."
"Yeah, but this is JD we're talkin' 'bout — that makes it Buck's business. You and I both know that. And if JD told him why he was so riled at me, then yer damn straight if Buck wouldn't be all over my hide about it."
Chris sat down on the bed next to the tracker, his cloth-covered thigh just touching Vin's bare one. "Buck is the mother hen sort when it comes to JD." Then he leaned back on his elbows, looking up at Vin through his tangle of burnished hair. "But JD ain't no kid, even if we keep calling him one. If you say you didn't coerce him, I believe you."
"I didn't," Vin insisted, as he turned sideways to look Chris straight in the eyes. "He coulda walked away — hell, he almost did."
"What stopped him?"
"Don't rightly know. I musta ... said somethin'...." Vin toyed absently with the pale hair on Chris's exposed stomach as he thought back, trying to remember through the dim haze that alcohol always seemed to leave in its wake. "I ... told him how important it was ... fer him ta learn how ta take the lead ... I think."
"And did he? Take the lead, I mean?"
"Yeah, once I showed him what ta do. He's a quick learner, too, I'll give him that!"
Chris grinned wide, and Vin cracked an honest smile for the first time since arriving. The older man then took hold of Vin's hand and pulled him back onto the bed beside him. "Maybe you're just a good teacher," he said, leaning over to kiss the tracker now lying at his side.
He kissed her; she kissed back. He tickled; she followed suit. He slipped his hand under her vest and she nearly ripped his off.
JD was on top of her now, straddling her hips, but she wasn't struggling. There were no cries of protest from her lips, no pleas to be released. She was so unlike any other girl JD had ever met; she didn't even know she was supposed to play coy and hard-to-get. And he was surprised to find he liked it this way.
He was the first to expose skin — hers — when he yanked her blouse and undershirt free of her waistband, as they tumbled over the grass again. She giggled when he touched her bare stomach, throwing her head back and her arms wide. She didn't even protest when he undid the buttons, pushing her blouse open.
But, a moment later, she sat up and pushed him back onto his butt. "Fair's fair," she said, as she reached to undo his shirt buttons. The article of clothing was then quickly tossed aside.
"Well, I'm uppin' the ante," he proclaimed as he reached for the hem of her undershirt, pulling it and her blouse straight up over her head.
An instant later, they were frozen solid. Casey staring in startled surprise at JD and JD staring at Casey's half-naked form. He'd never seen a girl in this state of undress before. She certainly wasn't a boy, but she wasn't exactly a woman either. Her skin was smooth and pale — unlike Vin's had been, with his well-defined muscles and fine covering of light brown hairs.
JD suddenly remembered what Vin felt like, too, and, without thought, he reached across to touch Casey, to compare. Though she made no move to stop his action, her wide-eyes cast downward to watch his hands intently. He cupped the small mounds of her breasts, feeling them yield easily against his hands; they were soft, so much softer than Vin's taut muscles. Instinctively, he plied his thumb against the small nub at the center; it responded instantly, as did Casey who closed her eyes and leaned her head slightly back. JD was fascinated by the change in the nipple, larger than Vin's and so much more responsive. He bent to taste the flesh, finding it sweet and just the slightest bit salty; Casey let out a soft little moan, though he doubted she even realized it.
Soon, JD noticed she seemed to have forgotten the rules of their little game. She sat there passively, allowing him to rain kisses down upon her sweet flesh, but he remembered how much he, too, had liked being the recipient of the attention. With one hand, he found hers and guided it to his undershirt. Taking the hint, she quickly followed with her other hand and soon had striped him to an equal level of exposure.
Her touch on his skin was hesitant, almost tickling his pale flesh. He continued to knead and caress her breasts, and she soon mimicked the motions. "Lead and they will follow," the quiet voice sounded in the back of his head again, and he could see that it was true.
The kid smiled again, moving his mouth from her breast up to her lips. He then ran his hands behind her back, easing Casey down into a warm patch of sunlight. She looked up at him, nervous yet eagerly awaiting what he would do next.
He unhooked her belt, and then undid the restraining button at the top of her pants. He was kneeling above her as he did this and Casey took the opportunity to match him move for move. He then slipped his hands beneath the loose waistband, but before he did anything else, JD looked up at her. She almost giggled, but she met his eyes.
"We can stop, ya know. Any time ya want," he said.
"I know," she replied, and in that instant JD realized that he knew it, too — that he'd known it the night before, with Vin, though he hadn't been out-right asked the question.
How many times could he have just gotten up and walked out of that room knowing Vin wouldn't have made a single move to stop him?
But in the cold morning light, he'd seen it differently: waking up without Vin, when somewhere in the back of his mind he'd expected the man to be there. But Vin had given him one final way out. That girl.
JD didn't have to remember his night with Vin if he didn't want to, if it was easier not to, if he regretted what had happened between them. Vin hadn't deceived him after all — he'd merely given JD the opportunity to deceive himself.
He looked down at Casey again, realizing he wouldn't be here now if it weren't for last night with Vin. But, why was he here? It felt important that he should know. Was he really angry with Vin, or himself, for what they had done? Was he doing this to prove he could, to prove he could be with a girl? Or did he really care this much for Casey...?
"JD?" She shook him gently by the shoulders. "Do you wanna stop? Because we kin ... if you want to."
JD answered her with a deep kiss. Then he helped her remove his trousers. It was now her turn to stare, wondering at his form. It was a good bet she'd never seen a man in this state before. She hesitantly reached out, but pulled her hand back before making contact.
