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ON CHRISTMAS DAY
by C.V. Puerro |
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ON CHRISTMAS DAY
by C.V. Puerro |
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Continued...
Yer still sleepin' with him," Buck said as soon as Chris closed the jailhouse door. "That's why I found him in yer bed, and why you never came back last night." Buck stopped and sucked in a quick, deep breath, as if he were fighting a strong wave of nausea. "That— that's his shirt yer wearin', ain't it?"Buck had been watching Vin and him talk, Chris suddenly realized. And the man wasn't stupid; he'd finally put all the pieces together.
"You God-damned hypocrite," Buck said in a low, menacing tone. "You were gonna let me believe I was the one who messed this up. You were gonna let me believe you were willin' to wait for me to be ready."
"I did wait, Buck. I've waited weeks, and for what? Nothing!"
"I came to you last night."
"You were drunk. You were so drunk you didn't even know it was Vin you were fucking."
"I didn't fuck him. I—" Buck's eyes went wide and the blood drained from his face. He leaned heavily against the door.
Afraid the man was going to pass out, Chris grabbed a chair and brought it over. Buck slid into it, still looking as white as snow. Chris's voice was suddenly quiet and, for the moment, all the anger was pushed aside by his concern.
"Buck. Buck, what happened last night?"
"I, uh, I forced him...."
"Vin? Y-you forced him? To do what?" But Chris didn't need an answer. Everything Vin and Buck had said to him finally made sense. He now knew why Vin had put a gun to Buck's head.
"I-I didn't. I mean, I don't think I did. I think ... I think I tried, though."
"God, Buck, why?
"I was ... drunk. Confused.... I don't know."
"How could you be that drunk? I've never seen you treat anyone that way."
"I— I'd been ponderin' all day, on what you'd said to me. I knew I had to do something, something for you. I knew I had to show you I could do this, that I could make this work. I had ... I had a few drinks at the saloon ... I took a bottle with me when I left. I remember standin' there in the hallway outside your room...."
Chris didn't look at Buck; he didn't want to hear this.
"I couldn't do it, Chris. I couldn't even open the damn door. Just thinkin' 'bout what you wanted, what I had to do to keep you.... I needed courage. I-I musta downed that bottle in a few quick gulps."
Buck fell silent, but still Chris refused to look at him, refused to meet his eyes. He didn't know what Buck wanted from him right now; he was afraid that whatever it was, he wouldn't be able to give it, wouldn't want to give it.
"I know I took my frustrations out on Vin. I mighta even hurt him. I don't know. I don't remember much after you left. I'd hoped the worst of it was a dream, but after Vin's threat this mornin' I reckon it wasn't."
"What do you want me to say, Buck? Drunk or not, you crossed a line."
"I know." Buck dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing his fingers over his face. Then he suddenly stood; he walked passed Chris to the holding cells and began pacing in front of them. "This is making me crazy, Chris. JD. Vin. You. Me. All of it."
Buck wrapped his fingers around the cell bars and shook the metal. Chris could plainly see the tension across the man's shoulders; this whole thing was eating him alive.
Chris knew he'd been right in what he'd told Vin: this had to stop.
"Chris.... I can't do this." Buck didn't turn around, didn't look at Chris. "I tried, but I can't."
Chris stared at the man's back. Buck was saying the words that Chris had come here to say, and Buck was saying them for better reasons.
"I don't want to have to get drunk just to be with you. I don't like what being that drunk did to me. I just don't want to be like this."
Chris walked hesitantly over to him. He wasn't sure what he could do for his friend. Chris still cared about Buck, he knew he always would, but he couldn't disagree with anything Buck had said.
Chris reached out a hand, touching the man's shoulder; Buck flinched and then jerked himself away.
"Just go. Just go, Chris."
Chris pulled his hand back. He didn't want things to end like this, knew he couldn't leave them this way, but he didn't know what else to do. Chris turned and headed for the door.
"I suppose. I got something ta discuss with Mary anyway," the healer said. "This okay with you, JD?" he asked.
The kid nodded. Nathan grabbed his hat and coat, and then headed out the door.
"How you feelin'?" Vin asked as he pulled a chair up next to the bed where JD was lying. His arm was no longer in its sling, but it was still strapped between two flat pieces of wood.
"Fine," was all JD said, obviously hurting from Vin's earlier, harsh words.
Vin didn't know how to say this except straight out, so he took a breath and began: "Look, kid—"
"Why'd you do that to Buck?"
"He didn't tell you?" Vin asked, doubting the man would have. JD just shook his head, so Vin continued. "Somethin' happened last night. Somethin' I don't wanna talk about. But it's got somethin' ta do with what's been goin' on ... 'tween you and me. Ever since Buck caught us together ... he's been ... I don't know ... confused."
JD nodded, not denying the assessment.
"It's hurtin' everyone, kid: you, me, Buck ... the whole group. It's gotta stop."
JD started to protest, but Vin cut him off.
"It's over 'tween us."
Tears began to well in JD's wide, brown eyes and Vin immediately felt guilty. He wasn't being honest with the kid. Despite what Chris had said to him not five minutes before, this really wasn't about Buck, about what happened last night. It was about JD, about the kid's damned childish reaction outside the church. JD couldn't even see that Vin was hurting; he couldn't see how stupid his comments had been; he couldn't see that life wasn't some dime novel with a happy ending.
And Vin didn't understand why.
It wasn't as if the kid's life had been perfect. Not even close. He had no father and his mother was dead. He'd been working just to earn his keep since he was old enough to walk. Since coming west, he'd been shot at more times than Vin could count — nearly dying once; he'd even killed an innocent young woman with a clumsy, stray bullet. There was nothing in JD's life so golden that he should still be this naive, and, yet, he was.
JD was just too young, too innocent. They were alluring qualities, but not ones Vin could stake his life on, sink all his heart into, he finally realized. He'd seen too much of the world himself, been hurt too many times, had too many things — people — taken from him. And he knew that innocence wouldn't last. The kid would lose it one day, if it didn't kill him first, and then where would they be?
"We can't be together anymore, JD."
"No, Vin, please. What'd I do? I didn't mean it. I didn't! Please. I'm sorry."
The kid was openly crying now and Vin felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest. JD reached out with his good arm, clutching at him, but Vin pulled away. He was so tempted to take the kid in his arms, to comfort him, to soothe away the pain — the pain he'd caused — but he wouldn't. For once, he wouldn't allow himself to become caught up in the moment; it would only cause more hurt later on.
Vin got up from the bed, moving himself beyond JD's reach, but the kid kept staring at him and Vin knew he'd be haunted for a long time by the look on JD's face: the pain of his knitted brows, the anguish so clear in his dark eyes, the glistening streaks running down from his reddening nose, the desperation of his open mouth gasping for air, the lingering fight for bravery that set his chin aquiver....
He would have hurt the kid less if he'd simply struck him a blow.
It's gonna tear us all apart, that's what Chris had said, and Vin had just proven him right.
"Vin, how'd it—"
"Leave me alone."
"Vin, what happened?" Chris was insistent. Vin stopped walking and turned. He looked nauseated and Chris was suddenly very worried. "Is JD all right?"
Vin glared at Chris for a long moment before answering.
"No. Course he ain't. I just.... I feel like I just shot him. It's Christmas day, for God's sake. How could you let me do that? I may not like this damn holiday, but he does — he did.... I had no right to go up there and ruin it for him, not when this could have waited 'til tomorrow."
"He's not a child, Vin."
"Isn't he? Doesn't he deserve to be? What right do we have to take that away from him?"
"It's his choice, Vin. He's the one who came here. He's the one who insisted on joining up with us. He's the one who volunteered to be this town's sheriff. And I'm damn sure you haven't forced him to do anything he didn't want to do."
"You're wrong, Chris. I did force him. I forced him to do what you wanted. He doesn't want this. I'm not so sure I want it either — didn't want to hurt him, that's for certain. Not today of all days. What kind of fucking bastard am I?" Vin looked away.
"It's for the best, Vin. You know that. It might hurt for a while, but things'll be better this way." Chris waited for some sign that Vin agreed, but none came. Vin merely set his jaw, refusing to meet Chris's eyes.
"Vin, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna make it through this. You just need to believe that." Chris wanted to reach out to Vin, to pull him close and hold him, to reassure him; this had all been for him. "Come back to the cabin with me."
"What?!" Vin suddenly met Chris's eyes, holding them.
Chris felt uncomfortable seeing the man's anger and confusion; why didn't Vin understand? Chris looked away, trying to gather his thoughts. Across the street, Ezra and Josiah were watching them from the doorway of the saloon. Chris turned toward the jail and saw Buck looking out through the window. Nathan was stopped outside the newspaper office, staring as well.
"Come with me to the cabin. We can talk more about it there. We can—"
"No. I don't wanna talk to you — I don't wanna talk about this — anymore. Leave me alone, Chris. Just ... just leave me alone."
Vin walked away. Chris almost reached out a hand to try to stop him, but he knew Vin would pull away and he couldn't deal with that, not with all their friends watching, not after what had just happened with Buck.
Vin steered his horse toward the porch, then slipped from the saddle. He really didn't know what in the hell he was doing out here, what he expected, but ... where else did he have to go?
With a deep breath, he moved to the front door and knocked.
A moment later, it was pulled open and Casey Wells stood in the doorway. She was dressed in her usual overalls, no longer in the nice skirt she'd worn to the church service that morning. Vin liked her this way; it didn't make her look as though she were playing some silly game of make-believe.
"Hey, Vin." Casey smiled wide, obviously surprised, but nonetheless pleased to see him. "What're you doin' here?"
"Come to see if I could help out. There must be something needs doin'...."
"JD with you?" she quickly asked, as she peered around him into the yard.
"No, he ain't here. He's back in town, restin'." Vin watched as the smile on Casey's face dimmed ever so slightly. "But, I'm sure he'll be up for the Christmas dinner tonight. Bet he'd be real glad for your company, too." JD's face flashed suddenly into Vin's mind: the pain, the anguish Vin had inflicted clear as day; maybe Casey's spirit could help ease that some. "And, uh, he might need a bit of help, what with his arm and all."
"Really? You think so?" Casey smiled brightened again. "Nettie's in the kitchen," the girl said as she stepped aside, holding the door open for Vin. He entered the small front room and was instantly struck by a myriad of smells: pumpkin, cinnamon, clove, garlic, onion.... Nettie was cooking and Vin suddenly remembered that he hadn't eaten a thing since noon yesterday.
Casey laughed when his stomach growled, and then she took his hand and hauled him straight into the kitchen. "Come on. I'm sure Nettie'll feed you."
Inside the small, normally spotless kitchen were bowls and plates and utensils scattered about, with Nettie in the middle of the chaos. It looked like she was cooking for the entire town. "You plannin' on feedin' an army, Nettie?" he asked with a smile that sent a sparkle into his eyes.
"Near abouts. Looks like Mary Travis has invited everyone in the territory tonight. Don't know how we'll squeeze 'em all inta that church for the meal. But, she's right: too many folks out here don't have family with 'em, for one reason or another...." She paused for a moment, as if suddenly caught by an unexpected memory. "But, that don't mean anyone needs to be alone, not on Christmas."
Vin didn't agree with the woman on this point. Christmas shouldn't be different from all the other days of the year, as far as doling out kindnesses, but it was. As much as he disliked the day, Vin had always been given a hot meal and a warm blanket; the same couldn't be said for all the other days of the year. A man alone, a scruffy boy, doesn't always get even the bare essentials in this world.
"'Sides," she said, "it'll be a nice change for folks: gettin' together, easin' their hardships with good company, good food, and good times to remember through 'til spring."
Vin smiled. He couldn't help himself. Nettie was just like all the others, and Vin had to admit her sentiment was a bit infectious: it was the hope that today of all days everything would be right with the world. But, in truth, it only made the bad things that did happen seem that much worse — that was one thing Vin knew first hand.
"So, you sittin' an' eatin', or you just gonna stand there and drool?" Nettie asked, as she began to scoop things out of the bowls and off the platters scattered about the kitchen. She set a plate of potatoes, biscuits, gravy, greens, and a thick slice of cured ham on the table. "Dig in."
It was quite the feast, and Vin didn't hesitate in pulling out a chair and sitting down. He hastily tucked the napkin Nettie had provided into his collar, and then set-in to single-mindedly devouring the meal.
When exactly he'd started down this road, he wasn't sure, but he pondered as he sat inside the saloon, pouring himself another shot of whiskey. There wasn't anyone else in the place, and even Inez was nowhere in sight. She'd let him in, handed him the bottle he'd ordered — giving him only the most cursory of disapproving looks — and then disappeared into the back. He suspected Mary had enlisted her cooking skills to assist with tonight's Christmas dinner.
Chris wondered if Mary would mind very much if he didn't attend. He wondered if there would be enough folks there tonight that she wouldn't notice. This thought produced a small scoff; Mary would notice. She was Mary, after all.
Sometimes he wished she were more like Sarah. It might have made it easier to fall in love with her, to recapture at least some of what had been ripped from him. But — and this is what Chris had always feared — maybe being with another woman like Sarah would only be a constant reminder of Sarah herself, and the woman he could never have, ever again.
Still, it might make things a lot easier if he could love Mary. Wedding her would change him in the eyes of the townsfolk, would turn him into someone respectable instead of a mere hired gun. Although, he wasn't sure that was something he even wanted, or would ever want. All this civilization, all this progress ... it just too often felt constraining to him. Could he live in this growing town forever, with Mary at his side, with Billy and however many children she'd give to him?
Or, was he better off with Vin? As hard as the relationship was, as much as they had to hide it from the world, and as barren as it would always be? There would never be the comfortable home, the laughter of children, if he could make a life with Vin. And he couldn't imagine a time when either of them would be able to live without the gun.
He didn't know. He'd had both. He'd enjoyed both. But he'd been a different man with Sarah. And he'd been a different man when he'd met Vin. He just didn't know what kind of man he was now.
Suddenly, Chris decided he needed to find out.
He set his glass firmly on the table, and then strode out of the saloon, crossing the slush-covered main street of the town to the opposite boardwalk. He headed for the newspaper office, throwing open the door and stepping quickly inside.
There was no one in the front room where Mary did her typesetting and printing, so Chris went looking. Through the doorway near the rear was a small hallway with a set of stairs to the right and the kitchen straight back.
With the Christmas dinner mere hours away, Chris knew it was the most likely place find her.
"Mary?"
She turned suddenly, startled, and then she smiled in relief as she recognized Chris. He smiled in return, but more at her appearance than anything else. Usually well groomed, today her hair hung limp from the heat of the kitchen, her apron was spotted with bits of gravy, and her nose was smudged with flour.
He couldn't remember her ever looking more beautiful.
Chris crossed the room and, in an instant, had her in his arms. He pressed his lips full against hers, urging her to respond, which she did after only a single, brief heartbeat. Her lips parted, allowing him free entry; her hands came around him and began tentatively caressing his back.
He turned her, pushing her up against the wall, as his hands came up to the back of her head, releasing the clip that had long since lost the battle of keeping the hair restrained. Then he ran his hands through the silken strands ... so much like Vin's....
Chris pulled back from Mary as this unexpected thought struck him. He stared into her eyes ... they were green. Why hadn't he ever noticed that before? Why did he always think them blue? Blue, like Vin's.
"Chris..." she began, breathlessly. "I've been—"
He took her again before she could finish, capturing her lips with his. A moment later, he'd moved them to the table. He broke from her just long enough to sweep it clean of the dishes and bowls scattered there — the mess falling to the floor with a deafening clatter. But Chris didn't care, and he wasn't about to give Mary the time to care either.
He whirled her around, and then pressed her against the edge of the table. His lips were on her again, his tongue delving inside, still tasting the flavor of pumpkin pie. Then his hands moved down her back, down her shapely ass, which, for once, wasn't covered by a cumbersome bustle. He moved his hands lower, cupping her cheeks, and then he lifted her onto the table. He moved her back along the polished wooden surface as he crawled on top of her, all the while never breaking their kiss.
A small part of his mind wondered what his intentions were. Was he going to take her, right there on the table, in the middle of her kitchen? Is that what he really wanted? And then what?
"Ma?" a small voice called.
As soon as Chris heard the creak of footfalls on the wooden stairs, Mary pushed him away. He rolled off the table, and then struggled for footing amongst the scattered dishes on the floor. He suddenly remembered what it was like to have a child in the house. Your time was no longer your own, and there was no such thing as privacy.
Mary was in the hall now, at the foot of the stairs, saying something to Billy to keep him from coming down the rest of the way. Chris suspected Mary didn't want her son finding him in her kitchen, now covered with as much flour and gravy as she was; he didn't want it either.
Chris picked his way carefully toward the back door, avoiding as many obstacles on the floor as he could, trying to be quiet. Then he was gone.
"How much I enjoy yer cookin'? Very much. Thank you!" Vin smiled wide, then looked back at his plate, hoping for a few more scraps to act as distraction.
"Yer welcome, but that's not what I meant, and I think you know it."
He did know it. Nettie was perceptive and was somehow able to read him as if his troubles were scrawled plain across his face. He wondered if his ma had been like that — if she had just been able to tell when something was troubling him. He wished he could remember, but he'd been too young when she'd died.
"I saw what happened 'tween you and Buck after service this mornin'. He try ta steal yer girl?"
"My girl?" Vin nearly laughed; he was sure he blushed. "What makes you think I gotta girl, Nettie?"
"A woman can tell when a man's in love," she replied as she began making yet another pie crust.
Vin didn't know what to say to that. If he said he wasn't in love, she wouldn't believe him. And, if he said he wasn't in love with a girl, well, she might damn near tar him! He didn't see any alternative other than keeping his mouth shut all together.
"Son, I know it ain't none of my business, and I'm not one ta mettle in other people's lives, but I'm just gonna say this and you kin take it how you like: opportunities in this here world can be few and far between, so when one presents itself, well, you better think twice before passin' it up. Might be the last opportunity you git."
Vin thought on her words a moment. Deep down, he knew them to be true. He'd had few opportunities in his life, though he'd been pretty good at making the most of them when they'd come his way. But, if this was some sort of opportunity staring him in the face, he didn't recognize it.
Finally, he nodded. "'Preciate the words, Nettie." He'd need to think a while on what she'd said, but he couldn't do that with her staring down at him, waiting for him to put the pieces together. No. He needed something physical to do, so that he could ponder properly. Maybe then he'd begin to figure things out.
Vin pulled out the napkin from where it was tucked into his collar and wiped it across his mouth, and then he stood up from the table. "Did I hear you say somethin' 'bout wood needin' ta be chopped?"
He didn't know if what he was about to do would make things better, but he had to try. Chris knew what it felt like to break things off with Vin. Moreover, he knew he had a far harder heart and a higher tolerance for pain than did JD.
His steady gun-hand hesitated for only a moment on the doorknob before twisting it, pushing the door open. Inside the small room, Nathan was seated at his small table and JD was sitting up in bed. Both men looked up from their books.
Chris opened his mouth to speak, though he wasn't sure what he was going to say; he was simply hoping the right words would come. However, before he could emit a sound, JD started spitting angry words at him.
"YOU did this! I love him! How could you—"
"JD! Stop! We are NOT having this conversation. Not here. Not now," Chris calmly ordered, though he was fuming inside. The kid should know better than to say such things with Nathan in the room! Nathan didn't need to be mixed up in any of this; the less he knew, the better it would be for everyone. Yet, JD had opened his damn-fool mouth.
"You two talk," Nathan said after loudly clearing his throat. "I'll just, uh, I'll just be outside." Then, to Chris's relief, the man left, closing the door behind him.
"You oughta know better than to say such things in front of Nathan!" Chris scolded, as soon as he was alone with JD. "You got no right to put us all in jeopardy like that!"
"I got no right?" The kid's face was beet-red with fury. "You got no right. No right to split up me an' Vin! And I know it was you. HAD to be YOU! All 'cuz YOU want him. But he loves me! He told me. And I love him! YOU GOT NO RIGHT, CHRIS!!"
To Chris's amazement, the kid had kept his voice low, despite the fury and heat of his words. In turn, Chris kept his emotion even more tightly in check.
"I've got every right, and don't think for a moment that I don't—"
Before Chris could finish putting JD in his place, the kid was off the bed, rushing towards him. As soon as he was close, JD swung at Chris, nailing him square on the jaw, causing Chris's head to spin with the unexpected force of the impact. Nevertheless, Chris quickly shook it off; he lashed out with a blow of his own, only JD had seen it coming and ducked out of the way.
Nathan chose that moment to open the door to his clinic, just as JD was taking advantage of his lower position. He butted his head into Chris's stomach, driving him through the open door and into Nathan. The three men went catapulting back as they all struggled to regain footing.
Chris saw JD hit the ground, just before he went down, bouncing several times on his ass before landing flat on his back. A split second later, Chris heard the noise — the rending of wood — as Nathan crashed, full force, into the banister. The weathered beam creaked and began to splinter as Nathan fought to right himself, his arms reaching forward, flailing desperately for purchase, but finding nothing but air.
Then the wood gave way. Chris was instantly on his feet, grabbing for Nathan's hand before the man could tumble backward. Chris watched as Nathan firmly planted his feet, and then he glanced over to see JD holding tight to Nathan's other hand.
Nathan smiled, obviously relieved not to have fallen off the second story onto the street below. Then his smile faded as he pursed his lips and tightened his grip, crushing Chris's fingers in his powerful hand. Chris could only guess that Nathan was inflicting the same pain on JD.
"I've had about enough of this!" Anger filled Nathan's voice, to a degree Chris had never heard from the man before. "You all solve this, or you look for someone else to watch yer backs and tend yer wounds. You got me?!" Then Nathan threw their hands away and stalked off down the walkway toward the stairs.
Chris looked at JD, but the kid was just staring at the ground. Chris sighed. This just had to be the worst fucking Christmas any of them had ever experienced.
It was then that he noticed JD trembling. Chris caught the kid before his knees gave out and helped him back inside, guiding him onto the bed.
The moment JD was firmly on the mattress, he shook off Chris's helpful hands and turned his gaze away to stare at the far wall.
Chris waited to see if the kid would look at him, but when he didn't, Chris pulled Nathan's chair close to the bed and sat down. Quietly, he asked, "So, you really love him?"
There was no reaction from JD for a full minute, and the only sound in the room was the kid's heavy breaths. Finally, JD nodded his head.
Chris didn't know what else to say, so he spoke the truth. "So do I."
He waited to hear what JD would say to that, but no response came. He watched as JD's shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath. He imagined all that must now be running through the kid's mind: thoughts of Vin, Chris, and Nathan for certain, maybe Buck as well, and even Ezra and Josiah. They were a team. What affected one of them eventually came to affect them all. Chris should have learned that lesson a long time ago, yet here was young JD, teaching it to him for the first time.
He guessed that was as far as JD was going to let this conversation go, at least for right now. Chris stood to leave, but as his hand touched the doorknob, Chris heard JD's voice: "What do we do now?"
Chris wished he knew what to do, how to fix this, but he didn't, and that left him feeling uneasy and vulnerable — two afflictions a man who lived by the gun was better off doing without.
Silently, he shook his head, and then walked out of the clinic, closing the door behind him.
"Oh, go on now," Nettie said with an embarrassed smile. "I'm a dern sight too old fer yer flattery, and Casey's too young. Save it fer someone who matters."
Vin nodded his head, catching Nettie's meaning. He'd pondered the whole of the afternoon on the woman's words, and though he wasn't sure he'd figured it all out, he hoped he was at least on the right track.
He offered his hand to Nettie to help her up and onto the seat of the buckboard.
"Thank you, son."
Then he had to grab Casey by the shoulder to stop her from clambering up right behind.
"I kin do it myself," she insisted with a glare, but Vin just smiled — not very shyly and with a whole lot of sugar — until she gave in, allowing him to take her hand and help her up.
"Mind yer skirts, Casey," Nettie told her. "And thank Vin."
"Thank you," Casey said, crossing her arms over her chest, as if he'd somehow insulted her.
Vin smiled wide, not in the least bit offended by Casey's independent spirit — he'd always found it a useful thing in his own life. He then tipped the brim of his hat to them both as Nettie snapped the reins, sending the two horses dancing into a walk. Casey turned in her seat as they headed down the road; she was smiling now, waving at Vin, her grudge quickly forgotten. He waved back to her, and then headed for the barn to saddle up Peso.
There was an opportunity out there waiting for him — an opportunity to finally put an end to this — and, if he was going to take it, he couldn't waste any more time.
Vin had a few things to retrieve from Chris's cabin and a wagon to put in order. Tonight's party would be the perfect cover; everyone would be too busy celebrating to even notice.
He'd been the last one in and the last one out, which put him nearly half an hour past the set time for supper. All the same, he refused to hurry. He'd make his appearance, though he didn't expect to stay late, or to have a good time.
As he combed through his still-damp hair, he glanced over at the bottle of whiskey on the dresser. It was his only Christmas tradition, now that Sarah and Adam were gone, and he meant to keep it.
He did up the buttons on his shirt — Vin's shirt, the red one that the tracker had loaned him. Why he was still wearing it, he had no idea. Between Vin and Buck, he'd taken to keeping a few extra things here in town, including a clean change of clothes. However, the color selection was even more limited than the one at the cabin: for some reason, he had nothing here in town except black. It was a color that none of the others ever chose to wear, though Chris had never really noticed before. Then again, none of them had had their wife and child murdered.
No, he'd wear black, to honor his family, until their killer was brought to justice, even if that meant being buried in it. But tonight, he'd wear the red. For Vin. For Vin's mother. Because no one should die on Christmas, even if it still sometimes happened.
He felt he owed Vin that much, especially after causing so many problems today.
It was the very least he could do.
One last look in the mirror, then Chris was out the door, heading downstairs to the Grain Exchange — the church having proven just too small to accommodate everyone Mary had invited, which had ended up being the entire town and all of the neighboring homesteaders. Not all would come, Chris knew, but there would be a good many more people than was to his liking.
He couldn't imagine that Vin would be comfortable with the crowd, and even began to wonder if the tracker would show up after all that had happened. Most likely, Mary would be disappointed, but Chris wouldn't blame Vin, not in the slightest.
As Chris stepped up to the open door of the Grain Exchange building, he noticed a small sprig of mistletoe hanging over the doorway. Quickly crossing the threshold, he made his way into the crowd, to the back of the room, and then he turned and surveyed the crowd.
In the far corner, he saw JD and Casey talking and laughing, which eased his mind some. JD was young and resilient; in time, his feelings for Vin would fade and he'd be able to move on.
Standing beside one of the tables that was heaped with food were Josiah and Nathan, chatting amicably; Chris hoped they were both still blissfully ignorant of what had been going on with the rest of them. If so, there might still be time to salvage things, to keep the group together for the good of this town, and maybe for the good of themselves.
Not far away, Chris caught sight of Ezra. Even if the man hadn't been facing him, there would have been no way to miss his jacket: a brilliant garnet in a sea of browns and muted blues. Only the dress of the woman he was speaking with contrasted more with the crowd. It was emerald green with accents of creamy white lace; it shone in the sallow light of the lanterns, as if it might actually be made of silk. He knew such a dress could only belong to one woman in this town. A moment later, the pair shifted slightly and Chris caught sight the woman's face; as he'd already guessed, it was Mary Travis. It was the first look he'd had of her since that afternoon, when she'd been warm from baking and covered in flour. There was not a speck of flour on her now, nor was there a strand of fine blonde hair out of place.
She was indeed beautiful. Nevertheless, she was still not Sarah — or Vin — and he really didn't want her to be.
Mary happened to choose that moment to look up; she immediately caught Chris's eye. He'd hoped to avoid her this evening, not quite knowing what to say after their encounter in her kitchen. Maybe a bottle of whiskey and the dawning of a new day would bring the words to him. However, as he saw Mary making her way through the crowd toward him, he knew that was one Christmas wish that wasn't going to come true.
"Mr. Larabee," she said addressed him matter-of-factly. He couldn't tell if she was angry or just self-conscious of her image among the other townsfolk. "May I speak with you a moment? Privately?" — she added the last word softly, but with an insistence that made it impossible to miss. She gestured toward the door at the back of the building.
Outside, Chris felt the crispness of the evening air on his face, so refreshing after being inside the stuffy, crowded Grain Exchange building. He walked a few steps, and then turned when he noticed Mary was no longer beside him. He found her a few feet back, her arms crossed, though Chris hoped it was from cold, but he feared it was from anger.
He had no coat to offer her, so he simply closed the distance between them, hoping to get the worst of this over with as soon as possible, so that she could return to the warmth inside.
"Mary, what happened this afternoon—"
"It's all right, Chris. I understand. It's been a long time for me, as well. I wanted it as much as you did. And, let's be reasonable, we're both adults...."
Chris's heart eased. He liked where this conversation was going. Mary had been caught up in the moment, just as he had. It meant nothing to either of them. It was a test, and they'd both found the other wanting. Now they could put it to rest and continue with the friendship they'd so far only tentatively formed. It would be the best for everyone. No more tension. No more veiled glances. No unreasonable expectations.
"... and I know your past — well, maybe not all of it, but enough. And, I think we both know how much Billy looks up to you; you'd be a good father for him—"
"No." The word left Chris's mouth as sharply as a shard of glass as he suddenly realized what Mary was really saying. "I've been a father and I've been a husband; now, two people I love more than anything are dead because of it. I won't go through that again."
Chris looked at the wide, stunned expression on her face. Part of his mind told him to stop before he made things worse, but his mouth kept on moving.
"Mary, I'm sorry about what happened today. It was my mistake. All my fault. No one need know about it, so your reputation is safe. And, I promise you, it won't ever happen again. You have my word."
Then he clamped his mouth shut and waited.
Even in the pale light from the Grain Exchange windows high above them, Chris could tell that his words had hurt Mary. Her normally curvaceous mouth was a tight, bloodless line, and her eyes were as hard and as dark as coal. Then, in the corner of her eye, he thought he caught the glimmer of a tear. But before any other emotions could register on her face, Mary was brushing past him, stalking away, as if her very life depended on getting the hell out of there with as much dignity as she could muster.
He watched her round the front corner of the building, not knowing what else to do. He thought maybe he should go after her, but what in the hell was he going to say to her? What could he say that wouldn't make things even worse? Maybe if he called himself an ass he'd at least get a laugh from her. Maybe if he just kept on talking, she'd finally slap him and it would make her feel better.
"Aw, hell," he grumbled under his breath. Chris didn't have any idea what to do, but still he found himself moving in the direction Mary had just headed.
As he rounded the corner, he caught sight of the open front doorway of the Grain Exchange. Beneath the mistletoe that hung there was a couple engaged in a kiss, perhaps one a little more friendly than a mere sprig of greenery should warrant. He couldn't see their faces, but he knew instantly who they were: the gleam of fair blonde hair in the lantern light was a dead giveaway, as was the color of the jacket that now hung warmly about her shoulders.
He smiled at Nettie as he leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek.
"Merry Christmas, Vin," she said after returning the affection.
"Same to you, Nettie."
Vin's smile waned as soon as Nettie moved off into the crowd. He watched her gray head for just a moment before resuming his scan of the room. He was here to find someone — one particular person — the one person who'd been responsible for his happiest and his saddest moments today.
There wasn't much time, Vin knew. He had to put an end to this: not Chris's way, but his way.
After a few moments, Vin caught sight of two blond heads making their way out the back door. Vin didn't know why Chris was taking Mary outside, but it didn't matter. Hoping to catch Chris as soon as he was done with Mary, Vin made his way — politely, slowly, too slowly — through the crowd.
He quietly opened the back door, and then peered around it. He scanned right and then left along the side street for the two figures, but he caught sight of only one: Chris. He was walking away, heading toward the front of the building, so Vin slipped quietly down the steps and followed him.
When Chris paused just beyond the corner, Vin hesitated, wondering what had stopped him in his tracks. When Chris did nothing except stand there, Vin moved closer, finally whispering the man's name into the silence of the night air.
Chris instantly stepped back into the shadow of the building, and then turned. Even in the dim light that glowed through the high windows of the Grain Exchange, Vin could see he'd startled Chris, though the man's gun hand remained still at his side.
"What are you doing here?" Chris asked in a harsh, but low tone.
"Party. Was invited, you know?"
Chris didn't see fit to reply to that, so Vin continued, keeping his voice as soft as possible, just in case. "What happened earlier—" Fingers brushed over Vin's lips, stopping the rest of his words.
Chris shook his head. "I'm sorry, Vin. About a lot of things. I don't know how to make any of them right."
"Don't know either, but I've got an idea," Vin offered. It might not be a way to put things right, but Vin hoped it was a way to stop more hurt from happening.
"What is it?"
Vin wanted to take the man's hand, but he didn't dare; the lights from the Grain Exchange were too bright and the risk of someone from the party seeing them was too great. Instead, he gestured for Chris to follow him. Vin wasn't sure Chris would actually follow him, so after a few paces, he looked back. Chris was there, though Vin didn't miss the look of curiosity plain on his face.
Vin headed back along the side of the Grain Exchange, back the way he'd come, and then cut across the small side street to slip into the shadows behind the church.
"Vin, where we going?" Chris whispered, but Vin only motioned for him to continue following.
They circled around the church, and then made their way to the boardwalk, sticking close to the shop fronts in order to remain in the shadows. They passed the telegraph and stage line offices, the grocery, the bathhouse, and eventually the saloon. There were no lights on behind any of the windows in town — everyone was seemingly at the party — but Vin continued to scan the windows above the opposite boardwalk just in case. He had to be sure. He wouldn't get a second chance at this. There could be no mistakes tonight. No one could suspect what he was about to do.
But Nettie was right. Opportunities didn't come along every day. You had to take them when you could, before they slipped away. After he was done with Chris, well ... he'd figure out what to do about JD. It might not be the cleanest way to take care of this mess, but he'd thought all afternoon and hadn't come up with anything better.
