ON CHRISTMAS DAY
by C.V. Puerro |
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The pure, the beautiful, the bright, |
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ON CHRISTMAS DAY
by C.V. Puerro |
|
The pure, the beautiful, the bright, |
|
Things had been quiet around town for the last few weeks. Maybe the onset of winter was deterring many people from venturing out. Maybe the men who didn't depend on crops or cattle for their living had moved south to sunnier climes, or maybe they were just holed up somewhere, biding their time.Even Chris was more reluctant to leave town. As nice as the solitude of his small cabin was, sometimes it was just easier to climb a single set of stairs at the boarding house than endure a chilly horse ride. It didn't get as cold here near the Mexican border as it did back in Indiana, that Chris knew for certain, but this particular winter anyway, the temperatures were dropping. Just yesterday, there had been frost on the shingles around town and the thinnest layer of ice on the puddles beside the horse troughs.
These thoughts made Chris curl up on his left side, snuggling deep beneath his thick, warm quilt. He slipped his right hand under the waistband of his long johns, tucking his fingers between his legs and wrapping them around his balls. He gave himself a small squeeze then smiled at the faint tingling that spread through his loins. It was such a pleasant sensation that he squeezed himself again, feeling the heft of his balls in his palm.
He moved his thumb upward first, rubbing it against the base of his penis, just back and forth for a few moments. He smiled again, closing his eyes as he snuggled just a little deeper against his pillow. Chris moved his whole hand up to his cock, pulling his palm upward across the sensitive skin, feeling the flesh hardening in his grasp. As he stroked downward, he extended his top leg, allowing his hand freer movement.
He pumped himself, up and down, feeling the silkiness of his skin against his calloused palm, but too soon, the fabric around his hips began to hinder his movements. He slipped his hand from the long johns, and then scooted the material down past his ass. He rearranged the bedding to cover his shoulders, and then slipped his hand up to his mouth, slathering his palm with spit before seeking out his cock again.
He closed his eyes as he resumed the slow rhythmic stroking, allowing the feelings of pleasure to wash over him. He thought of nothing except the sensations as he tugged gently on his shaft, as he ran his thumb over the tip, around the head. However, an image soon came unbidden to his mind: a man, with broad shoulders, lean hips, strong muscular thighs....
Chris's breathing became heavier as he continued to stroke himself, wondering what it would be like for this stranger to stroke him, what it would be like to stroke the stranger, so fully formed in his mind save for his face. He pumped himself faster as the tension in his groin began to build. He squinted his eyes shut as a small shudder wracked his body. He didn't know who he wanted this man to be, but he knew he wanted to be touched by him.
Suddenly a tapping sounded at the door. Chris ignored it, though he slowed the strokes over his cock, waiting for a moment to make certain the intruder had gone away. Another rap told Chris he had not. A third, more insistent knock had Chris releasing his grip.
Sighing, he threw back the bed covers and placed his bare feet on the cold floor. He pulled his long johns up as he quickly stepped toward the door. He didn't even grab his gun, knowing from experience that people intent on doing you harm so rarely bothered to knock. He unlocked the door, and then pulled it open slightly, peering through the crack to see who in blue blazes had the nerve to bother him before sunrise.
It was Buck. Chris opened the door wider, motioning him quickly inside. He then closed and locked the door before climbing back into his warm bed.
"There better not be trouble, because it's too damn early," the gunslinger said as he pulled the covers around him, trying to warm himself again.
Buck shed his hat and his coat before sitting down in the chair next to the tall bureau. "No trouble. Just thought ... well, hoped ... you wanted some company."
Buck stared at him with those blue eyes; even after all these years of hardship, of fighting, of winning and losing, of just plain loss, there was still a sparkle to them, a glimmer of the carefree boy full of hope and spirit and life. It was the same look JD got in his eyes at the prospect of adventure, before the reality, the horrors, of what confrontation could actually do entered his mind.
Chris supposed his own eyes once held that look — maybe more than once. Back in Indiana, before he went looking for adventure, as JD had, before he'd fought and killed far more men than he could even now remember. Maybe he'd found it again with Sarah, when he looked at her, when he loved her, when Adam was born, when his son had spoken his first word, taken his first step....
Chris was sure that look was now long gone. He wondered what Buck saw as he stared at him from across the room. Was it more than the bitter isolation he too often felt?
He finally just nodded his head at Buck, and then watched as the lanky man hopped up from his chair and began to strip. His gun belt came off first, which he laid carefully on the bureau, and then his shirt, which he tossed onto the chair; Buck sat down again and removed his boots. Finally, he shed his trousers, leaving him clothed only in a faded red union suit. Chris had seen that union suit before, when they'd first met up in this town, when Buck had tumbled out of a second-story window, under the false impression that an irate husband was out for his hide. The memory made Chris smile, which caused Buck to frown at him.
"Think it's funny that I'm cold?" Buck danced his bare feet up off the wood, crossing his arms over his chest. Chris smiled wider, holding up the bed covers to invite his old friend in.
Buck took only two long steps to cross the small room, and then practically leaped into the bed, thrashing about in his attempt to warm himself. After a few moments, he was snuggled up close, his arms wrapped around Chris, his body molded against his side, one leg thrown over his thighs, not in a way Chris could term possessive, but more as an extension of his desire to share in the warmth of Chris's body.
"Jailhouse cold?" Chris asked after Buck had settled down.
"As an old nun! I swear, that thing people've been talkin' 'bout for so long musta finally happened." Chris felt the shiver that raced over Buck's body. "I think hell musta finally frozen over!"
"Long as there isn't trouble," Chris reiterated his opinion on the entire matter.
"Nope, no trouble at all. Town's as barren as the trees 'round here. Too cold for anyone to even think about bein' out. 'Cept me, and that's only 'cuz there ain't no stove in that little back room. Might as well have been outside prayin' fer snow," Buck went on and Chris wondered if he'd just keep going all morning.
"Buck?"
"Yeah, pard?"
"Go to sleep."
"Okay. Don't have ta tell me twice. I'm so tired I could sleep 'til spring. Didn't get a bit of shut eye last night I was shiverin' so much, which plumb tuckered me out, by the wa—"
"Buck," Chris warned, but his bedmate wasn't offended.
The man chuckled good-naturedly, pressed his head against the pillow, and then pretended he was asleep by making little snoring sounds. Chris rolled onto his right side and Buck's arm immediately came around his waist as he snuggled up against Chris's back.
Chris closed his eyes, but sleep didn't come. He hadn't been overly inclined before, but Buck's interruption had completely woken him up. He knew what would put him to sleep, though: exactly what he had been in the process of doing before Buck's arrival. However, he couldn't very well jerk himself off with Buck sleeping right beside him. Not that Buck was really asleep yet.
That's when the idea struck him. Buck's hand was already resting casually against his stomach; Chris gently covered it with his own, to see how the man would react. Buck didn't do anything at first, but then, after a moment, he twined his fingers with Chris's, the back of his hand resting against Chris's palm.
Chris then guided their hands lower, until Buck's palm was just barely brushing against his cock. Then Chris pressed their hands firmly down; his eyes rolled back as the tingling spread across his groin, between his legs, and down his thighs. Then he slowly guided Buck's hand lower, stroking down his cock, but Buck suddenly gasped, sharply pulling his hand away.
Chris couldn't stop himself from asking Buck what was wrong.
"Chris, I..." Buck began, but his voice trailed off. He rolled onto his back, no longer pressing himself against Chris's body. Chris rolled onto his other side in order to face Buck.
"What is it?"
"I-I want to, Chris. Touch you ... there, but.... I just wasn't expectin'...."
Chris shushed the suddenly shy and flustered man; this was a side of Buck he had only recently discovered. Moreover, it baffled him that he could know someone for over a decade and still be so caught off-guard by his behavior. He realized this was all new to Buck; the man said he'd had feelings for Chris from the first moment they'd met, but he'd never acted on them, and, apparently, never thought to experiment with any other men. But, still, Buck was as experienced as you could get with women, so it really didn't make sense to Chris that anything sexual would cause the man embarrassment.
"I'm sorry..." Buck began again, turning his head to look over at Chris.
They were suddenly nose-to-nose, and Chris was surprised by the look in those blue eyes. There was a desperation, like a wild horse cornered, but also an incredible innocence and, without thought, he found himself kissing Buck. Buck didn't pull away, but neither did he deepen the kiss. Chris persisted, running his tongue over the man's soft lips, nibbling on the flesh.
Chris waited for some movement beyond trembling from Buck. They'd done this much a dozen times since Buck had admitted his feelings, yet it was still like the very first time. Chris placed his hand on Buck's ribs, lightly at first, but then, as he continued to kiss him, he began to move his hand back and forth. He knew it to be a calming sensation and hoped it would ease some of the tension from Buck's body.
As the man slowly began to relax, Chris slid his hand lower, lower, slowly, until he felt the bulge of Buck's penis against the side of his hand. There was still fabric between them, his union suit, but Chris ignored the fact as he moved his hand gently back and forth, caressing the side of the man's hardening shaft.
Again, Buck did not stop him, but neither did he make any move to further the contact. Only when Chris pulled his hand up to completely cover the now-stiff member did Buck stretch out his long body, giving Chris free access.
Chris continued to kiss Buck, to dip his tongue gently into his mouth. Buck still trembled some, but Chris could no longer tell if it was from the intimacy or the cold. He hoped it was from the cold as he began to rub harder up and down the length of Buck's long, thick cock. At the base, he slipped his hand lower, brushing Buck's fabric-covered balls with his fingertips.
Then he stroked his hand up again, until the heel of his palm grazed the man's glans, causing a small sigh to escape from his moist lips. Chris retraced his path, pushing his hand even lower this time, cupping and squeezing Buck's heavy sac. Again, Chris heard another sigh.
On the upward stroke, Chris moved his entire hand over the tip of Buck's penis, until the heel of his hand found the placket of the union suit. He broke from kissing Buck, sitting up just slightly to work free the buttons. Chris was hoping Buck would get into the spirit of things, help him to gain access beneath the underwear, but he did not. As the last button came free, Chris glanced up at him only to see an eagerness now brimming in those innocent eyes, like a child on Christmas morning.
Chris slipped his hand inside Buck's union suit, wrapping his deft fingers around the man's hot cock, only to feel Buck's hips rise up slightly, pressing the firm flesh into his hand. Chris hazarded another look at Buck's face, but found the man's eyes closed and his head lolled back against the pillow. There was an ease about his mouth now: no discomfort, no tension, not even a trace of anxiety.
So Chris move his hand up and down Buck's shaft, slowly at first, with a long stroke down from the tip, which he gently squeezed between his thumb and forefinger, to the base, where he allowed his fingertips to brush across the sparse hairs that covered his sac. Buck wiggled slightly, but did nothing more. Chris increased the rhythm of his strokes, but the small droplet of jizz that began to ooze from Buck's cock was not enough to lubricate his efforts.
Chris moved his free hand inside Buck's union suit and captured his balls. The angle was awkward, but it would do for the moment. His only desire was to maintain contact while he brought his other hand up to his mouth, slathering his palm with spit, as he'd done for his own pleasure not much earlier that morning. Then, he moved his hand back down, spreading the saliva over the length of Buck's penis.
Chris repositioned himself, propping an elbow beneath himself for leverage, before he returned to stroking Buck. His cadence over the firm flesh quickly increased, the added slickness enabling him to stroke Buck harder and faster. Chris began to feel the shudders wash over Buck as he continued to pump him. Buck's head was pressed back into the pillow and, beneath his bushy mustache, a smile of pleasure drew his lips into a wide line.
A spasm then shook Buck and Chris knew the man was very close, knew the tingling pressures inside his loins were building, knew he was ready to erupt. All Buck needed was just a few more hard, quick, and steady strokes to push him over the edge.
Buck cried out suddenly as he spurted warm jizz into Chris's hand. Chris continued to work over his cock, pumping out fluid until the flesh began to go limp.
Chris eased himself down onto his side, but did not release his grip on Buck's cock. He could tell that his own breathing was nearly as fast as Buck's. He could feel the burning sensation in the now-tired muscles of his upper arm and knew that if he were going to get off this morning, it would have to be with Buck's assistance.
Finally, as his breathing slowly returned to normal, he removed his hand from Buck's penis and slipped it free of the union suit. He then slid his hand inside his own long johns, coating his cock with Buck's still-warm juices. Then he pushed the fabric down over his hips before gently reaching for Buck's hand.
As he had done before, Chris guided Buck's hand downward until it was resting on top of his hard flesh. He waited for a few moments to see if Buck would protest again, but the man did not, so Chris began to move Buck hand up and down his aching shaft. It felt so good. He'd been near release far too many times in the past few days only to be interrupted for one reason or another. He needed this come; he wanted it so badly.
He smiled when he heard a faint moan from Buck, as if the man were indeed enjoying touching him, finally, but then Buck rolled onto his side, pulling his hand away.
Chris gasped as a small draft of cold air struck his wet, suddenly unattended dick. He then leaned close to Buck, listening to his slow, rhythmic breathing. The quiet, almost-delicate little breaths, which were not quite snores, touched his ears and Chris knew that Buck had finally fallen asleep.
It was so hard to talk about, especially with JD; he was the one person who should understand, but Vin knew he wouldn't. He knew JD would do all the wrong things if he found out: he'd try to cheer Vin up, take his mind off it, and end up saying or doing exactly the wrong thing. Vin just didn't want to be mad at JD, so he'd kept his mouth shut and turned down a warm bed in the process.
Really wasn't anyone's business anyway, he reminded himself as he placed the saddle on Peso and cinched up the girth. He moved as quickly as he could, trying to stave off the cold, trying to finish up so he could slip his gloves back onto his nearly numb fingers.
"Vin," Ezra said in greeting, as he walked his horse into the barn. "Cold enough for you?"
Vin smiled at the man who'd just spent the entire night on patrol in this frosty weather. "Ain't complainin', but how 'bout you?"
Ezra rubbed his gloved hands together, and then brought them up to his face to blow into his cupped palms. "Tired, mostly, but quite thankful to the man who invented brandy; he must have spent one too many nights outside in weather like this."
Ezra then pulled his gloves off, reached into his heavy overcoat, and pulled out a flask. He removed the cork and took a slow swig. Just as he was about to stuff the flask back into his coat, he looked at Vin again, and then offered him the silver vessel. The gesture surprised Vin, stopping him in the middle of tying off Peso's girth strap.
"Thanks, but I'm fine," he finally answered. Ezra did have a way of catching you off guard, Vin thought, and he wondered if it was a learned trait from being a con man and cardsharp for so many years, or if he'd been born that way, making him a natural at the confidence games he'd so often played before coming to this town.
"Suit yourself, Mr. Tanner," Ezra said with the smallest shake of his head as he tucked the flask back inside his coat. Ezra moved over to an empty stall, walking his horse in and turning him around. Then he began to remove the saddle.
"Any excitement last night?" Vin inquired, referring to the gambler's hours of patrol.
"Not a bit. Don't know if it's the weather or the season keeping folks at home, but whatever it is, it's not very conducive to keeping me awake at this hour."
Vin nodded again. Ever since Chris had figured out Ezra did his best work after midnight, he'd been having the gambler pull the late shifts. At the very least, it put an end to the occasional midnight gambling dispute over at the saloon. Nevertheless, Ezra wasn't much better at 6 am when it was the end of his day than when it was the beginning.
Just then, the large stable-door swung wide, letting in a swirl of chill wind.
"—so great! I can hardly wait. Any idea how far we're gonna have to go to find it?" JD was saying to Nathan as they stepped into the barn. "Oh, hey, Vin! Hey, Ezra!" the youngest member of their team called out as soon as he noticed them.
"Gentlemen," Ezra replied, his hands being too full of tack to make any effort at tipping his hat.
Vin nodded, giving the kid his usual, casual smile; only today, it wasn't hiding his desire to be with the JD.
"Say, Vin — you should come with us!" JD said, practically running up to Peso's stall. "It'll be fun!"
"Can't. I'm on patrol," Vin said, though he wouldn't have gone even if he'd had nothing at all to do.
"And, may I be so bold as to inquire where you two gentleman are heading so early on this most inhospitable morning?" Ezra asked as he exited the small tack room, the saddle, pad, and bridle gone from his hands.
"Hunting!" JD smiled wide. "For Christmas trees!"
Ezra made a charmingly interested face, though Vin doubted the feelings behind it were sincere. "And, is this species of coniferae particularly rare and difficult to ensnare?" Ezra asked.
"Huh?" the kid asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. Vin had to agree with him; he had no idea what Ezra had just said.
Ezra just smiled and shook his head. Vin was surprised to see Nathan amused as well. He and Ezra usually didn't agree on anything.
"He means, are we gonna have a hard time finding a good pine tree?" Nathan finally explained, obviously feeling a bit sorry for JD. "And, no, I don't think so, though it's gonna be a long ride."
"You up to it?" Vin immediately asked. Just over a month ago, Nathan had taken quite a beating at the hands of Stuart James's drunken cowhands, and Vin was still worried about him — they all were — even though his injuries had healed quickly. But, he'd helped the man survive, so now he felt like he had a little stake in making sure Nathan kept himself well.
"I'm fine, Vin. Feelin' just a bit cooped up here in town is all, seein' as how you boys won't let me do more than raise a fork from my plate to my mouth. At least I got y'all to stop cutting up my food for me."
"It's just 'cuz we care, Nathan," JD explained, though there was no need. "But, don't you fellas worry; I'll be there to keep a good eye on him!"
JD headed over to the tack room and returned in a few minutes with his arms full of harnesses and reins. "'Sides, were takin' the wagon, so that'll make it easier on Nathan," he continued. "You wanna come along, Ezra? There's room on the buckboard."
"Thank you, son, but I lack the appropriate spirit for such a journey."
"Don't tell me you don't believe in Christmas, Ezra," Nathan said.
"'Peace On Earth' and 'Goodwill Toward Man' are not exactly emblazoned upon the Standish family crest," he said rather too bluntly, and Vin wondered if the man was as against Christmas as he made himself out to be. Then again, Vin reminded himself, who was he to judge?
"Well, gentleman," Ezra went on, when no one had anything to say in reply. "I wish you good hunting and good patrolling. I shall do my best not to dream of what I am missing." Then he sauntered to the door, pushing the heavy panel open just far enough to slip through.
"Have a safe trip," Vin called to Nathan and JD as he followed Ezra outside, then pushed the heavy barn door closed before swinging up into the saddle. Vin readjusted his coat, pulling the trapped hem out from against the cantle. He fastened the top button and pulled the collar up close to his neck. Finally, he slipped on his gloves as he nudged Peso into a leisurely walk.
Good patrolling, he repeated Ezra's words silently to himself. He knew he should take them to heart, should wish them to be true, but he didn't. He felt a bit guilty for it, but he couldn't help thinking a good bank robbery or maybe just some drunk, raucous cowhands would be a good thing. Probably the only thing that would take his mind off the one thing he really didn't want to be thinking about, but — mostly because of JD — was the one thing he just couldn't keep out of his head.
Christmas.
It wasn't long past noon and the saloon was mostly empty. Chris imagined Ezra would still be asleep after his late-night patrol and knew that JD and Nathan had gone off to fell a tree for the town's impending Christmas celebration. He took a sip of whiskey at the thought of tomorrow. He wasn't looking forward to the day, but, as usual, there didn't seem any way of wishing it into not coming.
Suddenly Buck was standing next to his table; Chris hadn't even noticed him approach.
"Damn it, Buck. You know better than to sneak up on a man," he griped, knowing full well he had an unobstructed view of the door and no good reason for not having seen Buck enter.
Buck pulled out a chair, swinging it around so that the back was facing the table; he straddled the seat and crossed his arms over the top rung.
"Look, Chris," he began. "I know yer in a mood. Can't blame you none after ... what happened this mornin'." The last few words he said in a hushed voice, as if there might be someone around to hear them.
Chris appreciated the effort. He glanced quickly around the room and for the first time noticed Vin at the bar, leaning forward, speaking to Inez. Damn, he hadn't seen Vin come in either. He looked down at his shot glass, still mostly full of whiskey, then over at the bottle, mostly not full of anything. He didn't think he'd had that much to drink, but then again, he hadn't really been paying attention, which was precisely the problem.
"—just that, well, reckon I don't know how," Buck went on, and Chris suddenly realized he hadn't been listening. "And I'm not used ta not knowin' how ta do things, 'specially, well ... in bed."
Even though Chris had missed most of Buck's long-winded explanation, he quickly figured out what the man was driving at. Buck, the consummate ladies' man, who probably knew every trick in the book on how to please a woman, was at a complete and utter loss in bed with a man — like being an awkward, inexperience youngster all over again.
He felt sorry for Buck, but, at the same time, Chris was frustrated by the man's behavior. Buck had made very little progress since he first admitted his feelings, since their first kiss. He was growing quite comfortable allowing Chris to pleasure him, but he'd yet to make much effort in returning the favor.
He knew Buck was not a selfish man; Chris knew the way Buck treated the women he pursued, but he had seen little of that behavior in their own relationship. If Buck really cared about him as he claimed, why couldn't he at least make as much effort as he did with the women?
It wasn't that he wanted Buck to bring him flowers or candy, but, for God's sake, the man could at least help him get off! Just because Chris liked taking it up the ass — which they'd only done once in all these weeks — didn't mean there weren't other things he liked to do as well. Vin had figured them out quick enough. Hell, so had Sarah, and Chris knew she'd never been with a man before her wedding night. She'd tried to please him and that's all Chris had ever asked of her, could ever ask of anyone.
"Buck, will you do something for me? Will you forget about what you think you don't know?" Chris finally asked. "I need to know that you can give as good as you get; I need to know that you're at least willing to try."
Buck stared at him for a moment; Chris could tell the man was turning the words over in his mind. They probably weren't what Buck was expecting to hear. He probably thought Chris would hand out the same old reassurances about taking their time and being patient and eventually getting to a place where they were both comfortable.
Chris couldn't say those things to Buck today, because he couldn't mean them, not when he'd had far too much build up and absolutely no release in far too long, and he was feeling rather desperate because of it.
A few more days of this and Buck would be lucky if he didn't take him at gunpoint in the middle of the street.
Chris sighed heavily. He did not like where his thoughts were turning. They had to resolve this. Soon.
"Buck?"
The man nodded his head as he looked up at Chris with the most serious of faces. "I-I'm gonna ponder on what you said, Chris. I'm gonna ... gonna go now and see if I can ... see about rethinkin' things." Buck continued to nod as he spoke. When he rose from his chair and headed toward the door, he was still nodding, as if his mind was simply stuck on the words he'd just spoken.
"Could you do me up a plate of yer beans?" he asked politely.
She smiled wide. "There's chicken, too. It will taste good on a cold day like this," she assured him before heading toward the small kitchen in the back of the saloon.
With his mug in hand, Vin turned around, leaning against the edge of the bar. He glanced about the room as he waited; the air was clear of dust for once, what with the damp cold hanging over the town these past days. He looked over to the table where Chris sat. The man was hunched forward in his chair, taking the occasional sip from his glass of whiskey. Buck was beside him, talking away about something that Vin couldn't make out across the room, but every now and again, he'd smile or laugh, a little too easily, Vin thought. And there was something beneath it — something akin to nervousness, Vin might say, if he had to.
He suspected this all still had to do with him and JD, with Buck catching them together, with Buck seeing him, with his cock, stuffed to the balls, down JD's throat. It seemed Buck still hadn't fully recovered from witnessing that act so unspeakable, so ... repulsive to him. The man had been worked up for the longest time, not even speaking to JD for a while, though they seemed to have patched things up. JD had never said how or exactly when that had happened, and Vin never asked. He figured it wasn't any of his business unless JD felt like sharing the information, even if Vin might be entitled to know, not because of his relationship with JD, but simply because Buck had kissed him at one point, amongst all the turmoil.
Not that he and Buck had ever talked about that: the kiss. They'd never sorted it out, never laid it to rest, never even tried. Maybe that was why Buck was still not quite himself; maybe that kiss and the reasons behind it were still eating at him. Emotions had certainly been running high that day, on all sides, though it hadn't been anything Vin would have encouraged, because it wasn't anything he'd ever even thought about wanting.
Buck? The man just looked too right with a pretty lady on his arm, though how they ever got past that bushy mustache Vin would never figure out. Simply, Buck made a fine friend, a good fighting partner, but that was all, in Vin's opinion. Nope. Much as he liked the man, there just wasn't anything there — no spark, no special feelings, not even a pinch of interest.
Just then, Vin noticed Chris staring at him. The man's cool green eyes and emotionless expression were completely unreadable across the room. Sure, he and Chris thought alike at times, they had similar philosophies and ways of getting things done, but that didn't mean he could read the man's mind.
At the moment, he didn't have the faintest idea what Chris was thinking about, and, before he could ponder on it, he was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, Vin found a large, steaming plate of beans, chicken, squash, and tortillas on the counter and Inez standing there, smiling at him again.
"Enjoy," she said, before walking off.
Vin took the plate and the fork she'd provided over to a table on the other side of the room, near the window so he could stare out into the street. The town was mostly deserted still, what with the cold weather.
He took a couple of bites of food, but then felt eyes on him. He glanced over and found it was Chris staring again. A moment later, Chris turned his attention back to Buck. They exchanged a few words before Buck stood and headed out of the saloon, nodding absently, as if he had something all-consuming on his mind.
When Vin noticed Chris heading for his table, he quickly turned his attention back to his food, pushing the bits around to make it look like he'd eaten more than he actually had.
"Saving room for Christmas dinner tomorrow?" Chris asked, as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
Vin shook his head, and then shoved a fork-full of beans into his mouth. He wasn't looking forward to anything about tomorrow. Once he'd swallowed, he asked, "How 'bout you?"
Chris shrugged. "It's kind of Mary to go to all this trouble."
"I know Billy's mighty excited about you bein' there. Says something every time I see him," Vin said. Billy was a good kid and Vin could well understand why he'd taken such a shine to Chris.
"That's the problem. Billy's a fine boy. And Mary, well, any man would count himself lucky to have a woman like her by his side, but...."
Vin shoved more food into his mouth, waiting for Chris to continue. Despite the drawn out silence, he knew Chris wasn't finished talking.
"They're not Adam and Sarah. And they never will be." Chris finally placed his empty glass on the table, and then filled it from the mostly empty bottle he'd brought with him. He downed the liquid quickly before pouring himself another shot.
"Christmas was an important event in my house growing up," Chris said. "And Sarah, well ... she made a point of adding my family's traditions to hers. We had some fine holidays together," Chris went on, but Vin could tell the man wasn't really talking to anyone but himself. "Just hasn't been the same since."
"I know what you mean," Vin said, trying to be agreeable, though he really had meant to stay quiet.
"Don't think you do," Chris replied before taking another sip from his glass and looking at Vin over the rim.
"Reckon I don't, at that," Vin said. "Ain't never had no holiday traditions to miss."
Suddenly Chris leaned forward in his chair, interested in what Vin had to say, and again Vin regretted having said anything at all.
He just shook his head, and then asked, "So, you reckon Mary'll get her skirts all in a bunch iffn I don't show up?"
Chris nodded. They both knew the truth of it. She was going to all this trouble for them — the seven men who protected this town, but who had no family in it with which to spend the holidays. It was a kind and thoughtful thing for her to do, and Vin wished he could appreciate it. But, he couldn't. In all honesty, he wished the day would just pass by unmarked.
Vin managed to finish most of his food in the span of time since Chris had joined him. He placed his fork on top of his plate and was about to get up when Chris shot him a look, holding him in place as firmly as if he'd reached out and grabbed Vin's shoulder, preventing him from rising.
"Vin ... " he began softly, but didn't continue for a good minute. "I...." He sighed. "After she'd put Adam down on Christmas Eve, Sarah ... she'd ... she and I...." Again, he fell silent.
Vin thought he knew what the man was trying to say. Christmas Eve had been special for him and Sarah. And, tonight was Christmas Eve. Unlike Vin who wanted to do all the everyday things to keep his mind off the holiday, Chris seemed more the type to want to be alone with his memories — just him and a bottle of something, reliving the past.
"You want me to take your patrol tonight...?"
Chris shook his head, no. "Thanks, but I'd rather keep busy." He stood then, leaving Vin the last dregs in the whiskey bottle, and headed out the door. Vin sat at the table a long while, watching Chris through the window as the man crossed the street and turned up the far boardwalk, finally walking out of Vin's line of sight.
"Señor Tanner?" he finally heard Inez's voice. "Vin? Would you like more tortillas?"
"Uh, no, thank you, Inez. Ate more than I had a stomach for already." He smiled at her as she reached for his plate and fork, then he slid his hat back on his head, but he didn't leave. He poured a splash of Chris's leftover whiskey into his empty beer mug, and then leaned back in his chair, staring out the window again, though the far boardwalk remained empty.
How they were all going to squeeze into Josiah's church for Christmas supper was beyond Chris's imagination, but he figured, Mary must have it all planned. She wasn't the sort of woman to leave things to chance or fate; she was like Sarah in that respect. Most likely, though, it was the only trait they shared. Chris hadn't seen anything else in Mary to remind him of Sarah — not even her son, though Billy would have made a fine friend for Adam.
It was well-past dusk when Chris made his way down the stairs of the church. He would relieve Josiah as soon as the man returned, but, until then, he figured a cursory look around town was probably in order — not that there had been any disturbances of any kind, beyond one of Tiny's mules getting loose.
He was halfway down the boardwalk when he saw Buck step from the saloon to stand in the pool of light the establishment cast just outside its doors. The man pulled his hat on, then bundled his coat closely about himself before stuffing his hands into his pockets. When he looked up, Chris met his eyes and Buck immediately crossed the street to join him.
There was a seriousness to Buck's face, Chris could tell, even in the dim light cast by the single lantern outside Mrs. Potter's store; Buck's usual, wide grin was nowhere to be found. So, this was it. Buck had had the entire afternoon to think on the words they'd exchanged, to consider the request Chris had made of him. Only now, Chris wasn't sure he was ready for the man's response.
"Chris, you got time to talk?" Buck asked as he stepped onto the boardwalk. It wasn't really a question, and Chris knew it. They'd have to find somewhere private; he only hoped they'd have enough time before Josiah showed up looking to be relieved from his patrol.
However, before he and Buck had moved, Chris heard someone calling his name. Then, suddenly, small arms wrap tightly around his legs, arms that belonged to Billy Travis.
"Are they back? Are they?" the boy asked excitedly.
"Billy, you're liable to trip Chris hanging on to him that way," Mary reprimanded softly as she stepped out of her newspaper office.
Chris didn't mind too much. He kneeled down and scooped Billy up in his arms, much in the same way he used to do with Adam. Only Billy would soon be too heavy.
"Are Nathan and JD back yet, with the Christmas tree?" Billy asked again.
Nathan had said it would take them most of the day; he said he knew of some place up in the hills, but it was a bit of a ride. Chris only hoped Nathan was as strong as he said he was and hadn't tired himself too much on this expedition.
Before Chris could even tell Billy he hadn't seen them yet, Josiah came riding up on his horse, followed by Nathan driving the buckboard.
"They're here!" Billy exclaimed and, as soon as Chris set him down, he ran along the boardwalk toward the approaching wagon. "Ma, they're here! Come see. Come see the tree!"
Mary merely smiled as Billy ran back toward her, now pacing the wagon.
Chris also smiled at the boy's enthusiasm, until he noticed it was Nathan driving. JD was nowhere in sight. Buck must have noticed as well, because he stepped into the street and hurried to meet the wagon.
"Where's JD?" Buck addressed Nathan, with a mixture of trepidation and concern in his voice.
Before Nathan could say anything, Billy answered from behind the wagon. "Here he is! JD's back here!! Looks like he's sleeping."
A rock seemed to drop into Chris's stomach when he heard those last, innocent-sounding words. Fearing the worse, he rushed to Buck's side as the man peered into the wagon bed. JD was lying so still, with a blanket tucked closely about him.
"Ma, how come JD's sleeping?" Billy asked. Mary was now beside the boy, but she made no effort to lift him up to improve his view into the wagon.
Buck reached in with a trembling hand to touch JD's shoulder, but before he made contact, JD's eyes fluttered open, as if he'd felt the concern of everyone around him.
"We there yet?" he asked groggily, pushing himself up onto an unsteady elbow.
"Yeah, we're here," Nathan answered from his seat above. "But just lie still for a little bit longer." Then he turned to Josiah. "I need to get him upstairs. Can you take care of the tree?"
"Sure thing," Josiah replied before maneuvering his horse toward the back of the wagon. "Maybe Billy can lend me a hand?" he asked Mary, and she nodded.
"Yeah! I can help!" Billy insisted. Josiah then offered his arm and swung the boy up into the saddle.
"Now, don't you worry about JD. I'm sure he's just tuckered out more than anything," Josiah told Billy as he nudged his horse into a walk, proceeding Nathan and the wagon down to the end of the street. "I hear finding the best Christmas tree in the territory can really take it out of a man."
Chris walked with Buck alongside the wagon until they reached the clinic. He knew in his gut that there was more wrong with JD than just exhaustion. What in the hell could have happened on a simple trip to cut down a pine tree?
His question was answered a moment later when Nathan hopped down from the driver's seat and began helping JD out of the buckboard. The blanket fell away from JD and Chris could clearly see the sticks on his right forearm, bound with strips of material from what looked to have been his shirt.
While Mary, Josiah, and Billy took care of the wagon and the tree, Chris and the others helped JD up the stairs to Nathan's clinic. Inside, Buck lead JD to the bed as Nathan rummaged in the cabinets, removing necessary supplies.
"So, is someone gonna tell me what happened?" Buck finally insisted, but a moment later, the door burst open, silencing everyone in the room.
"JD! You okay? Josiah said you was hurt!" Vin rushed to the kid's side, pushing Buck aside.
"He broke his arm," Nathan finally explained.
"You shoulda been there, Vin!" JD smiled wide, though he still looked very tired. "We found the perfect tree—"
"And JD insisted on doing all the chopping himself. Thought I oughta be resting, saving my strength—"
"Well, you should!" JD insisted. "So, I was chopping away at this tree ... that one downstairs, the one we brought back—"
"Only, that there tree was on the side of a hill, and it didn't fall in the direction we figured it would—"
This made JD laugh, though he was the only one in the room who seemed to find anything funny. "It didn't fall on top of me, if that's what you're thinking," he assured them. "It just started to slide down the hill, and so I made a grab for it—"
"I was there." Nathan shook his head, obviously about to disagree with the kid's version of the story. "You jumped on top of it. How you thought that was gonna stop that big ol' tree, I'll never know. But, there I stood, watching JD sliding down that snow-covered slope—"
"You can't believe how much fun it was!" the kid declared, still grinning.
"Until you hit that boulder at the bottom," Nathan reminded him.
"Yeah, that wasn't much fun at all. But the rest—"
"The rest could easily have gotten you killed, JD," Nathan said, as he nudged Vin aside and began to reexamine JD's arm.
"So, he'll live?" Chris finally spoke from where he was leaning against the wall near the door, and Nathan nodded his head. "All right, then. If anyone needs me, I'm out on patrol. And, could someone please remind Ezra not to be late relieving me?"
Vin nodded to him.
Chris took one last look at JD and shook his head; the kid just threw himself into whatever was at hand. Chris couldn't ever remember being that enthusiastic about anything. As he pulled the door open, he noticed that JD was watching him. Chris smiled reassuringly, not wanting to be too hard on him; that spirit, wherever it came from, never came back once you lost it, and that day was never one to look forward to with any eagerness.
