When Chris awoke the next morning in the room in the boarding house, he was alone. He didn't recall hearing Vin leave, but knowing Vin it was probably soon after he fell asleep. He stood slowly, stretching his aching muscles, and cleaned up before dressing and heading down for breakfast. As he stepped into the saloon, Vin entered at the same time through the bat-wing doors, looking tired himself, a thought that gave Chris a small amount of pleasure; it was hardly fair if only he felt like shit on toast.Vin saw the telltale glare on Larabee's face, and knew there was going to be hell for someone to pay that day. He wasn't feeling exactly chipper himself, and seeing Chris dark as a thundercloud made him feel worse. Maybe if they were lucky, somebody would do something stupid and both he and Chris could work off their bad moods on them.
Chris had already sat down, hiding under his hat, and Vin started towards him when a shout came from outside.
"Bank robbers! They're robbing the bank!"
Vin grinned at the answer to his prayers, but Chris looked less than pleased. Oh yeah, Vin thought, there was going to be hell to pay. He followed Chris outside, guns drawn.
The other peacekeepers joined them and they surrounded the bank, where the robbers were still inside. Vin climbed on to the roof of the mercantile across the street, while Buck and JD went around to the back. Ezra, Josiah and Nathan fanned out, taking a different position for when the robbers tried to escape. Chris waited until everyone was in position and the street clear of bystanders before yelling out, "Inside the bank! Come out peaceful and nobody gets hurt!"
"Least of all this pretty lady with a gun to her head!" one of the men inside replied.
Damn, Chris thought. He'd hoped everyone had gotten out.
"Let us ride away, and we'll let the lady go," the man inside continued.
Chris glanced up at Vin, who was stretched out on the roof, gun aimed at the bank. He shook his head, telling Chris he had no shot.
"OK," Chris yelled back, hoping he'd see an opportunity after the came out.
The first man to come out herded Mrs. Jones, the wife of the bank manager, in front of him. The man wore a bandanna over his face, but Chris could see it was one of the actors, Sawyer, who had most likely been let out of jail first thing that morning. Two other actors followed close behind him, and Chris could see Vin still didn't have a shot. Their horses were tied right in front, and in five odd steps they'd be on the horses. Chris tried to think of a distraction so Vin could get a shot.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vin stand up on the roof. All three actors also looked at him, raised their guns, and fired at him, and Vin dove back on to the roof. At the same time, Chris, Ezra, and Nathan opened fire, while Josiah ran and tackled Mrs. Jones, covering her with his body to protect her from the bullets. The three actors fell to the ground, one moaning, the two others, including the ringleader, already dead.
Chris felt his heart pounding as he neared the carnage, kicking guns out of the way. Nathan was tending to the injured man, and Buck and JD came from around the back of the bank.
"Buck, JD, Ezra, go round up the rest of those actors. We need to talk to them now," Chris ordered. "Nathan?" he asked.
"He's hit pretty bad. I'll do what I can."
Chris nodded, not caring about the injured actor. He looked around for Vin. Josiah was slowly standing up and apologizing to Mrs. Jones for knocking her down.
"Nonsense, Mr. Sanchez, you saved my life. I'm grateful," she replied, brushing herself off. Mr. Jones joined her and hurried her home.
"Now that was worth a dollar a day," Vin called out as he came around the corner, grinning.
"If I gave a dollar for what you did, I'd expect change," Smithers said from the doorway of the mercantile.
"Shut up, Mister," Vin replied. "Didn't see you helpin' none."
"No need, when the situation was under control," Smithers replied.
Chris stormed to where Vin glared at Smithers. "What the hell were you doing?"
Vin took a step back at the vehemence in Chris's voice.
"You sure as hell weren't doin' nothin'," Vin replied. "Somebody had to do somethin'."
Chris looked at him for a second longer, then he turned without a word and headed for the livery. Vin watched him go.
"Looks like he's sweet on you," Smithers said. Before he could blink, Vin had thrown him against the wall with his forearm nearly crushing the man's windpipe.
"You need to leave town, now, before I end up doin' somethin' you'll regret," Vin said. Smithers didn't reply, and Vin released him and stalked off to the saloon, where he hoped he'd be able to make sense out of this whole damn situation.
Several hours and a good bit of whiskey later, he still hadn't figured it out, and he was sick of trying. He'd ride out to Chris's place and ask the man straight out what was wrong with him, and if he didn't like the answer, then he'd just keep riding.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
When Vin arrived at Chris's shack, the effects of the whiskey were long gone. He knew Chris would have a bottle somewhere, but he had a suspicion he wanted all his wits about him for whatever was going to happen.
Chris didn't come out to meet him as he tied his horse to the corral, leaving it saddled in case he had to leave in a hurry, and that worried him. He knew the man was home. A thin curl of smoke wafted from the chimney, and the horses lazing in the corral had been recently fed.
Vin stepped up to the porch and stared at the closed door, not knowing to knock or call out or just walk in. He decided he'd been here enough times, so he slowly opened the door, calling out "Chris?" as he stepped inside.
Chris sat just inside the door, still wearing his hat and gun belt. He lifted his head, and Vin could only stare back at the force of the look. It was the first time he had ever felt the full intensity of the Larabee gaze, and it surrounded him like a wildfire. His breath caught in his throat as Chris stood, removed his hat and gun belt, then slowly, without a word, unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. His boots were next, then his pants, until Vin stood frozen, looking at the man in all his glory. Chris walked slowly around behind him, then closer, first removing Vin's hat, then reaching down to pull off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. Vin realized he'd been holding his breath, and he released it.
"Take off your boots," Chris said, and Vin complied without thinking. He still didn't know what was going through Larabee's head, but he was willing to go along until he found out. Chris reached around and undid the buttons on Vin's pants, and pushed them down so Vin could step out of them, then again pressed close against him, so that Vin could feel Chris's chin against his shoulder and his hardening cock against his ass.
He felt Chris's hands run softly down his arms, eliciting a shiver. The gunslinger moved his hands under Vin's arms, to his stomach and hips, then back around to gently drift over the curves of his ass, lightly cupping the tight globes.
"You got a nice ass, Vin," Chris whispered.
Vin didn't know how to respond to that. "Thanks," he said finally. "I'm partial to it."
Chris massaged his ass a bit longer, then reached around for his rapidly hardening cock, tracing along the head and lightly sliding back the foreskin. "You got a nice cock, too," Chris said.
"You feelin' all right, Larabee?" Vin asked, enjoying the gentle ministrations too much to pull away. Chris responded by angling his own hard cock so it rubbed between Vin's ass cheeks, and rubbing his chin on Vin's shoulder. "I'm definitely feeling all right," he said.
Chris moved his hand down lower, squeezing Vin's balls.
"You gonna say I have nice balls, too?" Vin asked.
"You got nice balls, too," Chris said.
Vin was getting spooked by this sudden change in Chris's demeanor. When he felt Chris's lips skim lightly against his shoulder, he pulled away, missing the light touch but determined to find out what was going on.
"What the hell is goin' on with you, Chris?" he asked, stepping away a few steps, keeping his back to the gunslinger. He shivered at the sudden cold that accosted his bare skin.
"I realized something," Chris answered. "I like being with you."
"Glad to hear it," Vin answered. "I sort of figured that when you were rubbing yer cock up on me."
Chris shook his head. "It's not just a fuck, Vin. If it were, then anybody would do. I like fucking you, I like your body." He moved closer, closing the gap between them. Vin could feel the warmth of his skin, and when Chris reached around to touch him, stroking his cock again, which had gone limp with the cold, he didn't pull away.
"I like watching your cock get hard," Chris continued. "I like hearing your voice, and what you'll say next. I just like being with you, is all, just the two of us."
Vin felt the itch tighten in his gut. "You ain't getting' soft on me, are ya?"
Chris leaned forward, and nudged Vin's balls with his cock. "Nope, definitely not soft," he replied.
"What brought this on?" Vin asked.
"Today, when you stood up during the bank robbery. Scared the hell out of me."
"I can take care of myself."
"I know that," Chris said, his touch still gentle and slow, as if he'd forgotten where his hand was. "But something could happen any time, and I don't want regrets."
"You regret what we done?" Vin asked.
"God no. I just want more."
Vin didn't understand what Chris was getting at. They already had more than the first time they'd gone at it. "I don't understand," he said, finding himself leaning back into the warmth of Chris's chest as he waited for the answer.
Chris paused. "Sarah used to say I was like a horse with only two speeds-full gallop and stop. At first, we were just having fun, and that was fine. But something's changed, I don't know what."
"So you want me to go?" Vin asked, stiffening.
Chris's hand stopped. "No, godammit." He sighed, and Vin felt him calming himself, trying to put what he meant into words. "I don't want you to go," he said finally.
"Then what do you want from me?" Vin asked. "I don't like the idea of bein' corralled."
"It wouldn't be like that. I wouldn't want you to feel trapped. Hell, I don't know what I want. But I'm telling you this so you know you can walk away. I understand about being afraid of losing your freedom. Took Buck and a rifle to finally get me to the altar with Sarah. But once I was there, it was like I could finally breathe, and not be alone anymore, share things, good and bad."
"That sounds real nice, " Vin said. "But I ain't real sure that would work for us."
"Maybe not, but we could try."
Vin was tempted, more tempted than he'd ever been. Chris hands on him, his voice soft but strong in his ear, the thought of not being alone, of not having to always be alert for trouble, all that was awful tempting. But the one thing he always valued was his freedom, being able to take off whenever he wanted and knowing he could survive, just him and the land, the open fields and teeming forests calling to him when the crowds began pressing on him. What if that happened with Chris? What if someday he felt Chris pressing on him, and he felt the need to run. He couldn't abandon this man who meant so much to him, but he didn't like the itch that was gnawing at his belly. Hell, when had things gotten so complicated?
Chris had waited patiently as he thought it over, not changing the pace or the pressure on his cock.
Finally, Vin answered, "I'll have to think on it."
Chris nodded. "You want to leave now?" he asked.
Vin shook his head. "Right now I want you to finish what you started."
Chris smiled. "You really are worse than a billy goat," he said, again gliding his lips across the skin of Vin's shoulder, inhaling the scent he had become so familiar with, of outdoors and sweat and leather. He gently pulled Vin's head back and covered his mouth with his own, relishing in the feel of the wary tracker relaxing under in touch, kissing him back with the intensity Chris knew lingered beneath his calm exterior. As they broke the kiss, Chris gently guided Vin to the bed, lightly pushing him so he sat on the edge. He took the small pot of oil they kept within easy reach, and knelt before Vin, looking up into his eyes as he slid his mouth over Vin's cock, sucking on the swollen head while scooping his fingers in the oil. He moved his head so he could slowly lick the long shaft, tugging Vin towards the edge of the bed and moving his hand to rub the oil in Vin's crack, tracing the hole. He enveloped Vin's cock in his mouth again at the same time he pressed one coated finger inside, and smiled at the groan that came from the sharpshooter, who started almost imperceptibly rocking on Chris's finger. When Chris added another finger the rocking increased, forcing his ass onto Chris's fingers and his cock into his mouth.
Vin leaned back onto his elbows, watching Chris suck on him, his stomach doing kicks whenever the gunslinger's eyes met his own. Chris was sucking him slow and even, his fingers gentle in their probing, and he thought he could just lay there in bliss forever. But soon he felt a slight nip on his cock, and he looked in surprise at Chris's devilish grin. Before he could say a word, Chris pulled out his fingers and leaned up to kiss him, the warm saltiness he tasted having to be his own essence, and he eased back further on the bed, not wanting to break the kiss as he stretched out, Chris's warm body covering his. Vin couldn't recall ever feeling like he did at that moment, as if he and Chris were the only people in the world, as if he and the man on top of him were one, not only physically but spiritually, as entwined as the clouds in the sky.
Chris pulled his head up and smiled down at him, and he started to turn over, but Chris's hand on his chest stopped him. "Let's try something new," Chris said, and grabbing the pillow from behind Vin's head, patted his ass. Vin lifted his hips and Chris slid the pillow underneath, raising one of Vin's legs then the other over his shoulders.
"Good thing you're real flexible," Chris said, smiling.
"I sure hope ain't no one spying on us," Vin said. "We must look mighty silly."
Chris adjusted his position so his cock lined up with Vin's hole. "You ready?" he asked.
Vin nodded, laying his head back as Chris eased into him. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be filled, since he'd done most of the riding since that time out at the camp. He'd also forgotten how good it felt, his insides filled and stretched as Chris edged slowly into him, the discomfort turning to pleasure as his body adjusted and he relaxed. Chris waited until Vin was adjusted before moving, slowly, in and out, angling Vin's body so he hit his prostate. Vin gasped as the wave washed over him, his eyes closing as Chris's thrusts increased, and his hand wrapped around Vin's cock. God, he'd forgotten how good it felt, and he let himself go, giving over to waves, arching his back so he could feel Chris further inside him, not trying to hold back the moans that escaped his lips, grabbing the blanket underneath him as his hips moved of their own volition up and down as Chris thrust into him. "Go, go," he muttered, as he neared the edge, the tingling and tightening starting at the base of his spine. He'd never begged in his life, but he was now, saying Chris's name, wanting more of him. Then all of his control was gone, and every cell in his body felt like it tingled with pleasure; Chris and he were coming at the same time, he could the warmth of cum inside him and on top of him. He wanted to watch Chris as he came, wanted to meet his eyes, but Chris's head was thrown back, his lips pressed together so no sound escaped. Then they both relaxed, Chris laying on top of him and nuzzling at his neck, sending additional shivers of pleasure through Vin. It was perfect, it was meant to be, and it scared the hell out of him.
Vin lay awake long after Chris had drifted asleep, one arm thrown across Vin's chest possessively. He was bone tired, having given all he could to Chris, and he'd lost control. He couldn't stop thinking about that, about the power that meant Chris had over him, the power to hurt and to control, things Vin had sworn he'd never let happen to him again. He'd trusted people, and he'd gotten burned, so he'd learned to always keep a distance, even with friends. He trusted Buck, Josiah, and the others to watch his back, but there was always that distance, and he'd thought he could keep that distance with Chris too, especially since Chris Larabee had more walls than San Antonio. He'd wanted Chris, there was no denying that, and now that he had him, his first instinct was to run. Great, Tanner,
he thought. You don't want to be alone, you want to know what love and all that romantic shit is, and here it is sleeping beside you, and you're ready to hightail it to Mexico. But he knew he wasn't going to be able to talk himself calm; the gnawing in his stomach was too intense. He had to get out and away from here so he could think clear, without a warm hand resting over his heart. Besides, he reasoned, Chris had given him an out, said he could leave whenever, and it wasn't like he was leaving forever.
He climbed out of the bed as quietly as he could, grabbed his clothes and left the dark shack, dressing quickly on the porch and hurriedly climbing on his horse. He looked back once as he rode away, tempted to turn back, but then kicked his horse into a gallop and headed back to town.
Chris waited until he couldn't hear the hoof beats anymore before sitting up. He'd heard Vin climb out of the bed and sneak outside, and was tempted to call out to him, but whatever Vin was thinking, he'd find out soon enough. He lay back down in the bed, pulling the blankets to his chin to ward off the sudden chill.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
Chris didn't come back to town the next day, or for two days after. Vin had almost ridden out to his place a few times, but then changed his mind. Damned if he was going to chase after Larabee like a smitten schoolgirl. If the stubborn gunslinger wanted to see him, he could come back to town. It was selfish of him to leave the rest of them watching out for things anyway, especially with the actor taking up the jail and that Smithers fellow still lurking around. Smithers got his dander up; he didn't know why exactly, but something about the man just wasn't right, and Vin trusted his instincts more than anything else. His instincts were why he stayed alive as long as he did.
Whenever Vin went to the saloon, Smithers followed him, and sat in the same corner by the piano. Nothing wrong with that, but he was mirroring Vin's movements. Whenever Vin ordered beer, Smithers would do the same, whenever Vin took a sip, so would Smithers. He eased back in the chair like Vin, pulling his hat low, and when Vin stood up to check who was riding into town, so did Smithers. He was about at the end of his tether and about to teach the man some Comanche learning when Chris finally rode back into town, draped in his black duster, looking like the angel of death himself. So Chris hadn't been sitting at his shack missing him, Vin thought; he'd been sitting at his shack getting pissed off. Well, Vin wasn't about to apologize to the stubborn bastard.
Chris entered the saloon, taking in every person before he stepped all the way in. He noticed Vin in one corner, sitting with his back to the wall, looking as if he was asleep. He really would like to ask Vin to teach him that trick, because Vin actually knew exactly what was going on around him. He stepped to the bar for a beer, then walked back to where Vin sat. Vin hadn't come back to the shack after he'd left, so Chris figured he must have had plenty of time to figure out what he wanted, and although it would be nice if the man had told him personally, he said he'd respect it, and so he would. Didn't have to be exactly happy about it, though.
Chris didn't sit at the table, instead standing in front of where Vin lounged at the table.
"Any trouble in town?" he asked, thinking of the man Smithers sitting behind him.
"Nope," Vin replied.
"So it's been quiet?" Chris asked.
"Yep."
"What are you pissed at?" Chris asked.
Vin looked up at him lazily. "Nothin'," he replied.
Chris gritted his teeth and turned back to the bar. "Whiskey," he told the barkeep.
Vin watched him go under hooded eyes. The man acts as if everything's the same as it was, and can't understand why it's not anymore. Part of him wanted to tell Chris he was sorry, that he wanted more than anything what Chris was offering. The other part that valued his freedom kept his ass in the chair. His eyes were drawn from Chris's tense back by the feeling of being watched. He glanced across the room at Smithers, who was grinning at him. When their eyes met, Smithers stood, glanced at Chris then back at Vin, tipped his hat, and left the bar.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
After the wounded actor had been arrested for attempting to rob the bank, they'd had to keep him locked up until the Judge arrived the next week for the trial. Vin offered to take the afternoon watch of the jail, and he settled in behind the desk to wait. Chris hadn't spoken to him since that morning; in fact, he'd acted like Vin didn't exist. One thing Chris Larabee could do was make a person feel lower than toad shit if he set his mind to it, and apparently he'd decided to ignore Vin Tanner's existence.
He was getting antsy just sitting in the jail. He wanted to saddle his horse and ride out somewhere where he could see for miles without no damn buildings in the way, but as soon as Josiah relieved him at the jail he headed straight for the saloon instead of the livery. Tanner, you are like a fool who touches an oven to see if it's hot, he thought as he walked inside.
The saloon was crowded, smoky and noisy. Vin glanced around, but didn't see Smithers. In fact, he hadn't seen Smithers all day. He'd hoped the man had finally hightailed it out of town, but his instincts told him different. He thought to go look for the man, but then he spied the action going on in the corner. Chris and Buck were sitting at a table, several bottles of whiskey empty or well on the way scattered before them. There were also four saloon girls at the table, one smack on Chris's lap. Chris had unbuttoned the first few buttons of his black shirt, and his hair hung almost boyishly over his face. He laughed loudly at something Buck said, and the girl laughed with him, running her fingers through his hair.
Vin had never seen Chris laugh like that. Sure the man was drunker than a skunk, but whatever Buck had said caused the age and worry lines to disappear in laughter. His initial anger dissipated at the sound of Chris's laughter. Instead of heading to the table and yanking the contrary gunslinger outside, he turned to Ezra's customary table, where the gambler shuffled cards with one hand.
"Are you interested in joining our game?" Ezra asked.
Vin looked at the other occupant of the table, a local sheep farmer who was nodding into his beer. "Don't know if I can handle the competition, Ez," he said, taking the chair next to the gambler.
"Yes, Mr. Thompson here is a wily opponent. Unfortunately, he is also up past his bedtime." At that, Thompson's head sank to the table and he started to snore.
"So, Mr. Tanner, shall we proceed?"
"With what?" Vin asked.
Ezra held up the cards, and deftly fanned them from one hand to the other. "Poker, the sport of kings," he said, his gold tooth gleaming as he grinned.
"You done took all my money already," Vin said.
"So we'll play for IOU's," Ezra said. "Assuming I win, of course."
"That's like assuming the sun will come up in the morning. Deal me in," Vin said.
They played a few hands, which Vin surprisingly won, although he suspected it was just so he had enough money to lose back, and he felt himself relaxing in the gentle banter that always came from having a conversation with Ezra Standish.
"Mr. Tanner, discarding your king like that would be a grievous error."
"Why, Ezra? Makin' it harder to cheat me to winnin'?" Vin replied.
Ezra placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "You wound me, sir. If you weren't a crack shot, I may have to challenge you to a duel."
Vin grinned and discarded his king, and Ezra shook his head. Vin suspected that Ezra might be less gentlemanly than he let on; the man seemed to enjoy joining the fray too much, and only afterwards remembered that he'd gotten his clothes dirty. But for some reason he felt the need to fool everybody, or else he was trapped into it. Knowing Ezra's mother, maybe that wasn't far off. Vin Tanner knew a thing or two about being trapped, and that thought made him think of Chris. He'd almost forgotten he was there, except for the occasional raucous laughter from that side of the saloon. He glanced over to find Chris looking at him, not in anger, but almost sadly. When their eyes met, Chris grabbed a mug of beer and lifted it to Vin in a cheerless toast, then turned away as he drained the glass. Vin didn't know what to think of that. Anger he could deal with, indifference he could learn to live with, but what was Chris doing? Encouraging him to move on, with Ezra? Hell, Chris, he thought, what's going through your head now? Vin continued to stare at the now solemn gunslinger until Ezra interrupted his thoughts, reminding him it was his turn to ante up.
Chris saw out of the corner of his eye when Vin turned his attention back to Ezra. It hurt like hell to let him go, and that bothered him. He shouldn't feel that way about another damn man anyway. Besides, he didn't need distractions. He had a killer to find and a town to protect, and he couldn't do either if he was worried about what Vin was up to. Vin had taken care of himself for thirty-odd years before he met Chris Larabee, and he sure as hell didn't need a babysitter. He didn't need a problem like Chris Larabee either, so Chris silently said goodbye to the hope of happiness he felt with Vin, and turned back to the here and now, a willing woman on his lap and an old friend trying to out drink him. He saw the questioning look in Buck's face, but he ignored it. "I don't think you've told these ladies about the time you and I stole a tepee, Buck," Chris said.
"Hell, pard, we didn't steal it, just borrowed it for a bit," Buck replied.
"That's not what the Chief said."
Vin finally lost a hand, and pushed his money, which was really Ezra's money, towards the gambler. "Thank you, sir. Now why don't we up the stakes a bit?" Ezra asked.
"Hell, Ezra, unless you want my wagon, we can't..." Vin suddenly stopped talking as he spotted Smithers staring at him from the window. Bastard! Vin hurriedly stood and grabbed his gun, and ran out through the bat-wing doors. Chris instinctively stood to follow, but Ezra was already on the way outside, so he sat back at the table.
"Trouble?" Buck asked.
"Vin and Ezra can handle it," Chris replied.
Vin chased after Smithers, but when he got outside, he couldn't find him. He paused in the middle of the street, searching the corners and alleys. Ezra stopped beside him, gun drawn. "What is it, Vin?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.
"Smithers," Vin replied, stalking down the street. He couldn't tell the man's footprints on the dark crowded street. He was being played for a fool, and he didn't like it, and now something else bothered him. When he'd spotted Smithers outside the saloon, his first thought was that he was seeing his own reflection. Smithers was not only following him, he was starting to look like him. Maybe I should let him, Vin thought, in case any bounty hunters show up.
He took one last look around, and headed back to the saloon. Ezra was already seated back at his table and had been joined by some well-dressed men from out of town. The saloon was settling down. Buck was still there, surrounded by the girls, but Chris was gone, and so was the girl who had been on his lap. Vin was too wired to sleep, so he grabbed a beer and sat in a dark corner, every once in a while glancing upstairs as somebody entered or exited a room, but Chris didn't appear.
A few hours later, Ezra had relieved the gentlemen of their money, and they had left, grumbling but impressed. Ezra collected his winnings and added them to the bounty in his boot before standing and finishing one last sip of whiskey. "Do you intend to sleep here, Mr. Tanner?" he asked.
"Nope," Vin answered, also standing. The bar had emptied much earlier, and the bartender had been cleaning up around them. They stepped outside, and the bartender locked the door behind them.
"There is a strange satisfaction in closing the establishment behind you," Ezra said.
"Yep," Vin replied.
"Far be for it me to entice you to polysyllables," Ezra said. "Good night."
"Ezra, wait," Vin called. Ezra stopped and turned back, and Vin walked closer. He looked at the darkened street, trying to figure out what to say.
"Never mind," he said finally.
"Is something bothering you?" Ezra asked.
"You and Chris..." Vin said.
"Ah," Ezra replied. "You have a problem with it?"
"No, not really." He paused. "You still interested?"
Ezra hesitated. He wasn't sure where Vin was headed with his line of questioning, so he responded ambiguously. "Why?"
"No reason," Vin replied.
"There must be a reason. If you are not repulsed, then I can only assume you are either protective or jealous."
"I ain't jealous," Vin said.
"Do you have reason to be?"
Vin crossed his arms, but didn't answer.
Ezra adjusted the cuff on his shirt, while observing the man before him, who had answered his question without words. "I am not about to intercede in Mr. Larabee's romantic relations; I value my life way too much for that," he said.
"I don't belong to him," Vin said.
Ezra laughed. "Of course you don't."
"Forget it, Ezra. I was just curious."
"Curious about what? What Chris and I did, or how it is done?" He tried to contain a smile, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground.
Vin's glare softened, and he shrugged. "Hell, I don't know."
"Lessons will cost you extra, and I don't want your wagon." Ezra stepped closer, and put a hand on Vin's shoulder. "Talk to him, Vin," he said, and walked off towards the hotel. Vin watched him go, shaking his head. He started towards his wagon, but he knew he wouldn't get any sleep, so he began to patrol the town, removing his spurs so he didn't wake anybody.
The town was dark and still that time of night. Even the street fires had burned to embers, only the sliver of a moon the source of any light. Vin walked slowly past the saloon, blacksmith, boarding house, and turned around to head back when he heard the whisper of a match strike. He tensed, then relaxed as he recognized the dark figure leaning against the post in front of the darkened saloon.
"Bit jumpy, aren't you?" Chris asked.
"Not jumpy, just vigilant," Vin replied, leaning next to him.
"Sounds like one of Ezra's words."
"Yeah well, don't tell him. I don't want him to think I'm actually payin' attention to his ramblin'," Vin replied, grinning.
"Secret's safe with me," Chris said.
They stood in silence for a while, the only sound Chris's occasional drag on his cheroot. Finally, he tossed it to the ground and crushed it with his boot. "We gonna settle this or not?" he asked quietly.
"Thought we already did," Vin replied.
"I thought you were thinking it over," Chris said. "And that you'd come back out and tell me," he added.
Vin glanced at him. "Reckon since I didn't come out there, you got yer answer."
Chris nodded. "Reckon I did." He pushed himself off the post. "See you tomorrow, then."
Vin reached out a hand to stop him before he could think about what he was doing. He grabbed Chris's arm.
Chris looked down at his hand. "You made your decision, Vin."
"It was yer idea to make me decide. Yer own fault if you don't like what I decided."
"I know that."
"Then fuck my decision. Let's just go back to how we were before you got this bee in yer bonnet."
Chris stepped closer, pulling Vin against him. "Things have changed," he said through clenched teeth.
Vin pressed back against him. "Some things ain't changed," he said, as Chris's burgeoning erection pressed against his own.
Chris closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then pushed him away. "Ain't that simple," he said. "I can't keep acting like a billy goat."
Vin sighed. "And I can't pretend to feel somethin' I don't," he said. He saw, for the briefest instant, a flash of sadness in Chris's flint green eyes, then it was gone, in its place the cold statue that struck fear into people.
"Then like I said, I'll see you tomorrow."
Vin nodded and walked off, passing his wagon and heading for the livery, saddling his horse quickly and riding into the cold night to where he didn't have to see people or buildings or hurt green eyes on a statue.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
When Chris returned to his room, the saloon girl, Mandy, was still there, fully dressed and sleeping off the whiskey half-sprawled on his bed. He didn't feel like riding out to his shack, but he couldn't stay in the room with the lightly snoring girl, so he stepped back outside. Maybe Vin had the right idea-ride away until the horse damn near falls over. Hell, maybe Vin had the right idea about everything. You can't force somebody to like you more than they do, can't expect them to want to be with you just because you didn't like sharing. If being with him spooked Vin, then he'd just be with him in body, keeping his soul buried. He'd been doing that for over three years now anyway, walking and talking like a normal person when inside he was raging and sobbing against the unfairness of it all. Besides, caring for someone got you hurt; he'd had that lesson burned on what was left of his soul after the murder of his family, by their murderer.
He walked away from the boarding house; the sun was just appearing over the horizon. He passed Vin's wagon, considered catching a bit of shut-eye inside, but just as quickly dismissed the idea, and headed to the jail, where he could doze for a bit before the town woke up.
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
Chris must have slept, despite the grumblings of the hungry actor, because he was out of his chair with gun drawn at the door of the jail before he was completely awake.
Buck entered carrying a tray of food. "Good morning to you too, Chris. You shoot me, I just might spill these eggs."
Chris grinned sheepishly as he holstered his gun. "Sorry, Buck." He looked at the runny eggs and limp bacon. "Is this for him?" he asked, nodding to the prisoner.
"Yeah, Inez has got some real grub over at the saloon for you. I'll stay here while you eat," Buck relied.
Chris nodded, and started for the door, when a shout sounded from outside. Buck dropped the tray and kicked it towards the cell and followed Chris outside, both with guns drawn as they searched for the source of the yell.
A small crowd had gathered by the bank. Chris and Buck forced their way through and entered the dark building, where three people lay sprawled on the ground covered with blood.
"Go get Nathan," Chris said. After Buck ran out, Chris knelt by the figure nearest him, recognizing the starched white shirt, even without the red coat and arm rig. He placed his fingers on Ezra's neck and sighed in relief when he felt a faint pulse. Mr. Jones wasn't so lucky; the back of his head was shattered. Mrs. Jones moaned as Chris knelt by her. He grabbed her hand.
"William?" she asked, her eyelids fluttering.
"Just lay quiet, ma'am," Chris said softly. "Nathan's on his way." He removed a bandanna from his pocket and pressed it against the wound oozing from her shoulder. "Mrs. Jones, can you tell me what happened?"
Her voice was nearly a whisper. "We were asleep, and I woke up with a hand covering my mouth. He ordered us over to the bank." She paused to lick her lips. "It was dark. I couldn't see his face, but he wore a hat down into his eyes. That gambler, he saw us and tried to help, but the other man hit him or stabbed him, I couldn't tell. Then he had William open the safe, and then he pushed William down and started kicking his head and...Oh my God, William." Her voice started to rise. "William, where's William?" She tried to sit up, but Chris lightly held her down just as Nathan and Josiah arrived back with Buck.
"What happened?" Nathan asked.
"Bank robbery. Ezra's hurt bad, and so is she." Nathan glanced at Mr. Jones, and Chris shook his head.
"William," Mrs. Jones moaned.
"I think Ezra's hurt worse," Chris said. Nathan nodded and knelt by the unconscious gambler, while Chris continued to hold Mrs. Jones's hand.
"We'll find whoever did this," he said quietly. "We'll bring them to justice."
<<<<<<<~~~~~~~>>>>>>>
Vin added a few more sticks of kindling to the low fire he had built. The sun would be up soon, and he knew he should sleep, but he couldn't. His thoughts were still racing after what happened with Chris. The quiet of nature, the whisper of wind, the slight hum of frogs, was helping him settle a bit but not completely. He tried to see what the big deal was, but he wasn't even sure what Chris wanted from him. Weren't they already together, as often as they could be without raising suspicion? He wasn't going to nobody else for relief, and he was pretty sure Chris wasn't. So what more did the man want? To put a ring on his finger and an apron around his waist? He shook his head, clutching his jacket around him. Hell, Chris Larabee, for all his talk, wasn't any different than everybody else he'd ever known, telling him how to live his life and trying to change him to fit into their mold. The nuns in the orphanage, the sergeants in the army, even the elders of the Indian village had an idea of what he should be and got angry or disappointed when he wasn't like that. He'd promised himself he wouldn't change to fit nobody ever again, not since that pretty little squaw wanted him to kill her a buffalo, and when he did, she gave the skin-coat to a real brave. He tossed another stick on the flame angrily, trying to fight the slow boil rising in him. Things got too complicated when you get involved with people, he thought, but he knew he'd have a harder time leaving than staying.
As the first rays of dawn drifted over the horizon, Vin heard a soft sound from behind him, in a copse of trees near where he camped. It sounded like a scratching and squawking, maybe a bird with a broken wing. He stood to take a look, thinking maybe he'd have something other than jerky for breakfast if it were a quail or duck.
As he peered into the trees, the bird cried louder, and he saw it was an eagle, not yet fully grown, with one talon trapped in between two rocks. The body of a field mouse lay near its foot.
Vin stepped closer, and the eagle cawed loudly, flapping its wings frantically as it tried to escape.
"Hush, feller. Don't go hurtin' yerself." He continued to step closer, talking softly and calmly to the trapped bird. He slowly pulled out his heavy buffalo hide gloves and slid them over his hands. "That's it, I ain't gonna hurt ya. Just let me reach in there and get ya loose."
The bird pecked at his hands, flapping its wings. "Don't struggle now, you'll hurt yerself more," he said, ignoring the pecks at his hand as he tried to work the bird's leg loose. He was finally able to tug the eagle's leg free and the bird backed up, pecking at him one last time and hitting him above the glove, drawing blood before flying away with a final parting caw.
"Ungrateful bastard," Vin muttered, wiping the blood with his shirt and pressing it the wound. He stepped back out to his camp, and looked up to see the eagle soaring overhead, darting in between the lengthening rays of the sun, proud and alone. Vin watched the eagle fly higher and higher, and felt more and more he'd made a huge mistake. He cleaned up his campsite, saddled his horse, and headed back to town, hoping to hell Chris would listen.
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