DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Trilogy, MGM, Mirisch etc and were used without permission. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made.
English spelling has been used in this story.
Ezra Standish emerged from one of Eagle Bend's rooming houses and looked along the street for the tracker. He spotted Vin's horse, 'Peso', and his own, 'Chaucer', at a hitching post along the street, both saddled and ready to go. Vin was standing on the boardwalk, outside the general store. Something in the window display had obviously caught his eye. Somewhat surprised that the scruffy tracker would be interested in what the gambler knew, from an idle perusal the day before, to be merely a display of woefully unfashionable attire, Ezra sauntered towards him."May I be so bold as to inquire what has engaged your attention, Mr Tanner?" he asked.
Vin started and swung around. "Hi, Ez! Are ya ready to go?" he inquired.
"I suppose so, although I fail to appreciate the necessity for commencing a journey at such an ungodly hour."
"But it's gone eight," Vin pointed out.
"Exactly!" Standish replied. "Gentlemen are still abed at such a time."
"I can't understand why anyone would want to be," Vin responded, running a perplexed hand through his tangled mop of curls. "Hell, they'd miss the best part of the day!"
"The best part of the day, that is assuming that there is a best part, could not possibly occur until considerably after noon," Ezra opined.
"But, Ez, ya ..." Vin started.
However, tiring of a conversation he had had already on more than one occasion with the tracker in the weeks that he had known him, the gambler interrupted him. "You have not yet enlightened me as to which of the magnificent garments in this exceptionally resplendent display has attracted your interest."
"Huh?"
"What were you looking at?" Ezra translated, indicating the window with an airy wave of an elegant hand.
"That neckerchief!" Vin said, pointing.
Managing to refrain from a comment about how uncouth it was to point, Ezra turned to look. His eyes fell upon a white silk bandana, decorated with swirls of dark blue and bright yellow. "Oh, that."
"Yeah, it's real nice, ain't it, Ez?"
"Well, the fact that it is apparently silk is definitely a point in its favour," the gambler managed. In truth, he was surprised to see an item of such material amongst the plain cottons and ginghams.
"Silk?" Vin questioned.
"That is the material of which it is composed, unless I am very much mistaken," Ezra said, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated that for him to make an error on such matters was unheard of.
"I dunno about that," Vin said, "I just think it's real purty."
"So will you be undertaking the major purchase then?"
Vin looked confused again. "I ain't sure what ya mean," he admitted.
"Are you going to buy the wondrous adornment."
Vin shook his head. "No, I's just lookin'. I don't need it."
Ezra looked distastefully at the buckskin clad form. How anyone could spend their life in the tatty skins of long-dead animals was beyond him. Although he would not have been seen dead in the bandana, he figured anything new would have to be an improvement on Vin's normal attire. "New clothing is not a matter of need," he pontificated. "One should always endeavour to appear at one's best."
The tracker looked doubtful, but did not dispute the edict, merely muttering, "It costs too much anyway."
"Indeed? So you have progressed to the point of making inquiries from the proprietor?"
"Nope."
"How then, since as far as I can observed the item is lacking a price tag, have you ascertained that it is beyond the reach of your pocket?"
Vin grinned ruefully. "That's easy, Ez, I ain't got no money. Hell, iffen I had I would've had dinner last night."
Ezra stared at him. When they had ridden in the previous evening, after a long day on the trail, he had accepted Vin's offer to tend to the horses with alacrity. Then anxious to complete their official business, so that he could turn to more congenial pursuits, he had gone to the sheriff's office to deliver the papers from Judge Travis.
That task completed, and with his mind fixed on the pleasures of an evening at the tables, he had hastened to book himself a room at the better of the two hotels. After that he had had a quick bath, followed by a somewhat hurried but substantial meal, designed to make up for the lunch he had missed when the tracker showed no inclination to stop en route. Then he was off to the saloon, with never a thought for the tracker. "Are you telling me you went to bed hungry last night?" he asked.
"Well, I s'pose ya could call Peso's stall a bed," Vin replied smiling.
"You slept with that ... that beast?" the gambler asked, looking with disfavour at the animal, which was notorious for its little tricks, such as biting its owner and anyone else foolish enough to get too close to it.
"It's okay, Ez, he don't mind. I often use his stall back home, 'specially iffen it's a bit cold."
Ezra shuddered with revulsion at the thought, but opted to refrain from comment and keep to the matter at hand. "But we only received our monthly remuneration last week. Pittance though it is, I fail to understand how you have spent it so quickly."
"Well, ya took half of it off me at poker the night we got it."
The guilty sensation that assailed the gambler caught him unawares. Vin had not wanted to play, but lacking any other opponents, he had talked him into it. Endeavouring to ignore the unusual emotion, he asked, "What about the rest of it?"
Vin coloured up. "Well, ya see there was this ... this lady ... and I ... I..." He trailed off.
That surprised the gambler even more. He had never observed the tracker with a woman. Indeed, he had never seen a man more ill at ease in their presence. "So I am not the only one at fault," Ezra observed smugly. "I see that Mr Wilmington has also led you astray by his example with the fair sex."
Vin blushed even more hotly. He looked down at his boots, hiding his burning face beneath his tousled curls. "I don't mean that sorta lady!"
"Pardon me for my error, but I still fail to ascertain your meaning."
"Ya remember that lady that came through town last week with all those kids? The one who'd just lost her husband. She was goin' back east to relatives."
"Yes, I seemed to recall her," Ezra replied vaguely. He always kept a close watch on comings and goings in the hopes of spotting easy marks, but quickly dismissed the impecunious from his mind as of no interest to him. "What part did she play in this?"
"She was short of money."
"And you gave her the rest of your wages?" Ezra asked, already knowing the answer.
"Yeah, but she ... she needed it."
"And you didn't?"
"Hell, Ez, the town supplies us with a couple of meals a day."
The gambler could not refrain from pointing out the obvious. "Without venturing to make comment upon the munificence of such a prerequisite as an adjunct to our other remuneration, pray permit me to point out that we are not in Four Corners now."
The first part of that statement had the tracker totally mystified, but he latched on to the final seven words. "I didn't know Chris'd be sendin' us over here to deliver those legal papers for the judge. Anyway, we'll be back home tonight, iffen I can ever get ya on yer horse," he added grinning.
"I can assure you, Mr Tanner, that I will be ready for departure within the hour."
"Ya mean ya ain't ready yet?" Vin asked. "But ya've got yer bag with ya."
Ezra glanced down at the item in mock surprise. "Why so I have. However, I find I have a call to make. Tell me, am I correct in my assumption that you have not eaten at all since we vacated Four Corners yesterday morning?"
"Yeah, but that don't make no never mind, I's use to missin' the odd meal. Anyway I'll probably spot somethin' to eat on the way home."
Ezra shuddered visibly. Vin's habit of eating anything that could vaguely be called food frequently turned his stomach. Why even if he shot an animal that others might regard as a reasonable item of diet, he might well eat it raw, rather than cooking it, to save time. "Mr Tanner, having suffered the horrendous experience in the past, I cannot bear the thought of having to observe your scavenging with any degree of equanimity," he said firmly.
Vin stared at him. "Huh?"
"Regrettably, although you may satisfy your hunger, in doing so you imperil the safe digestion of my own breakfast."
"What?" Vin asked in confusion.
"To speak plainly, the things you glorify with the term 'food' make me feel distressingly ill."
Vin looked most surprised, but said, "Sorry, Ez. Don't worry, I'll wait till we get home then."
"Nonsense! I insist you go and have breakfast." He thrust a dollar into Vin's hand.
"I can't take yer money, Ez," the tracker protested.
"You can and you will. I do not wish to be subjected to your stomach's vocal complaints all the way home."
"But ..."
"No! Just do as you are bidden!"
"Anyone ever told ya that ya sound just like Chris when yer givin' orders?"
"Good! Anyway, speaking of our illustrious leader, I am certain that Mr Larabee would take me severely to task if I delivered you back home faint from lack of sustenance. You can repay me out of your next wages, if you are of a mind to do so, " he added, to forestall further argument.
Vin nodded, conceding defeat. "Okay, thank ya kindly, Ez. I'll be back soon."
"Take your time. A gentleman does not bolt his food," Ezra added sententiously.
"Ya never give up, do ya, Ez?"
"Of course not. I consider it no more than my duty to try to effect some improvement in the manners and behaviour of the Philistines that surround me."
The tracker grinned cheekily at him. Yeah, ya do that, Ez. Just as long as ya don't expect us Texans to change." With that he hurried off before the gambler could frame a retort.
Ezra watched Vin until he disappeared into the boarding house and then turned back to the window. He looked at the colourful bandana. Although he could not understand how anyone could want such a thing, he had an uncontrollable and most uncharacteristic impulse to buy it for Vin.
He hurried inside, made the purchase quickly and shoved the item into his coat pocket. He just hoped that nobody he knew had observed him purchasing such a thing and, worse, spending his hard-earned cash on someone else. What would his mother say? Well, there was absolutely no doubt on that score. He knew exactly what Maude's attitude would be: "Charity begins at home."
Well, if he was truthful, and he did find that somewhat difficult even when arguing with himself, somehow 'home' had become wherever the other six men were and, unaccountably, especially where one bedraggled tracker happened to be. He shook his head sadly at his own inexplicable folly.
No more than ten minutes later, Vin reappeared, apologizing for his tardiness and explaining there was a bit of a queue. "Hell, there's more of ya late risers around than I would've guessed," he said.
The ride back to Four Corners was uneventful. They stopped to water the horses and wash off the trail dust at the river about a mile or so from town. Vin was about to remount when an unusually diffident gambler thrust a small parcel at him. "Here."
"What is it, Ez?"
"Just a little something I purchased for you in Eagle Bend."
"Ya b-bought s-somethin' for me?" Vin questioned disbelievingly, looking at the parcel as though it might bite.
"Yes! Take it before I change my mind," Ezra ordered brusquely.
"Th-Thank ya, Ez." He fumbled awkwardly with the string, exasperating Ezra, who nearly seized the parcel to effect its unwrapping, but managed to resist the impulse as ungentlemanly.
Finally, the package opened to reveal the neckerchief. Vin caught his breath and his head went down. He made no sound and Ezra finally said, a trifle curtly, "I hope, after all my trouble and expense, that you really wanted it, Mr Tanner."
"Y-Yeah, it's ... it's lovely, Ez. Th-Thank ya, Ez," he muttered, his head still down. He raised his free hand and rubbed at his eyes.
Confused by Vin's behaviour, Ezra put out a hand and gently but firmly lifted the tracker's chin. To his surprise and dismay, the beautiful sky-blue eyes were welling with tears and an errant one trickled down Vin's cheek. "Vin, what's wrong?" Ezra appealed.
"N-Nothin'. It-It's j-just I cain't recollect anyone ever givin' me a present before," Vin explained.
It was the gambler's turn to be taken aback. As was his wont, he took refuge behind a brusque and slightly sarcastic manner. "Yes, well do not expect that I shall be making a habit of such extravagant generosity. Come, let us proceed to town, the tables are waiting," Ezra responded, anxious to avoid a potentially awkward scene.
Both men were silent for the short ride. Ezra was reflecting on how little it took to make Vin happy. He knew he could not have been so easily satisfied. 'At least I show a proper appreciation for the material goods that are the fruits of an advancing civilisation,' he assured himself.
However, a small inner voice, downtrodden but never quite suppressed, asked, 'Then why does Mr Tanner appear more content with his lot than you are?'
'It's just that he knows no better!' the gambler insisted.
For his part, Tanner was thinking about Ezra's innate kindness. 'Ez might like to pretend he only cares for himself,' he reflected, 'but that ain't true. He's one of the best-hearted men I know. I just wish Chris and the others'd see him like he really is 'steada like he pretends to be.'
Having stabled their horses, they parted, Ezra to cards and Vin to his wagon.
Vin ratted through his few possessions and found a sky blue shirt. It was in slightly better repair than most of his other clothes, having only a couple of darns and a full quota of buttons, though one was mismatched. He had purchased it off a widow, who had been disposing herself of her late husband's possessions. He had decided then and there to keep it for extra special occasions and so had never actually worn it. He decided getting the fancy neckerchief made it a special day. Also he wanted to show Ezra how grateful he was by wearing the present straight away because he was a bit worried that his odd behaviour at the river might have given the gambler cause to doubt it.
He donned the shirt and knotted the neckerchief. Then he found one of Peso's old brushes and actually ran it through his hair instead of just using his fingers as he usually did. After the wash in the river his soft curls were gleaming. 'Well, I don't s'pose I'm up to Ez's standards of elegance as he calls it, but I ain't ever goin' to manage that. Still hopefully he'll see I's made an effort,' he thought, totally oblivious to the way the shirt complimented, and thus emphasized, the beauty of his blue eyes.
He glanced down at his dusty boots. He bent down and spat on both. Then balancing first on one leg and then on the other, he rubbed their uppers against the backs of his calves. 'Guess that's a bit better,' he thought.
Then discarding his buckskin jacket, because it would obscure his finery, he headed for the saloon. He had no intention of approaching the gambler directly, but knew that Ezra was as alert to everything that went on in the saloon as he was when out tracking and so would be bound to notice him.
Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne were sitting at a table with two new saloon girls. With their backs to the door and their attention riveted on their attractive companions, neither noticed the tracker enter the premises.
Wilmington was at his charming best and had complacently believed that he was making considerable progress until he had the sudden unsettling feeling that his previously appreciative audience had become inexplicably distracted. This was confirmed when the pert, little blonde turned to her curvaceous, brunette friend and said, "Wow! Did you see that?"
The other responded, "I most certainly did. That'd have to be the most interesting sight I've seen in a long time."
"What's got yer interest, ladies?" Buck asked.
"Oh, nobody," one said, recalling that her job was to make herself pleasing to the customers and, as such, to pretend that the man she was with was the most attractive in the whole room. "Shall we have another drink?"
However, JD had spotted the object of the women's interest. "Hey, look, Buck!" he exclaimed, "It's Vin! He looks kind of different though." He grinned as he took in the tracker's apparel. "He's not wearing his coat! You were wrong. It isn't actually attached to him. He can take it off," he added, grinning as he recalled Wilmington's failed attempts the previous week to convince the tracker that there was no reason for any sane man to wear such a garment in the height of summer.
The scoundrel swung around. So Vin Tanner was the one who had undermined his current romantic campaign, was he? He grinned maliciously, "Well, ain't he lookin' purty! I think we should go and tell him so, don't ya?"
"Yeah, good idea, Buck!" the sheriff agreed enthusiastically. JD had not felt particularly comfortable when the ladies man had enlisted his assistance in chatting up the two women. Not that Buck needed any help with his seductive patter. It was just that both young women attracted him and he had yet to decide which one to make a play for, so he had decided to make-up to both while making his leisurely selection. He could then palm off the unsuccessful female onto his young friend. Of course, JD was not averse to female company, but he well knew Casey would raise the devil if word got to her ears, as it was all too likely to in a small town, so, all in all, teasing Vin seemed to be a much safer alternative.
"If ya'll excuse us, ladies, we've got a little task to attend to," Buck said, rising to his feet.
"Yeah, nice meeting you both," JD added, as he followed.
The brunette looked at the blonde. "I guess we can't compete with a beauty like that," she commented, "but I wouldn't have thought Mr Wilmngton would have been one for the pretty boys after the well-practiced line he's been giving us."
Buck sauntered across the room and up to Vin. Then he stood looking down at him.
Vin never liked to be the centre of attention and felt uneasy under the direct gaze. "Whatcha lookin' at me like that for, Bucklin?" he asked.
"Ya know my name?"
"'Course I do! What are ya playin' at?"
Buck reached out a hand and ran it through the shining locks. "Ya know, beautiful, ya sorta remind me of a friend of mine, but I can't see ya'd have any connection to a scruffy, little tracker, not a pretty thin' like ya are."
Vin ducked his head and swatted the offending hand away. "Stop it, Buck!" he exclaimed, his face reddening.
"Now don't play hard to get, my darlin', be nice to old Buck and he'll be nice to ya."
A couple of the cowboys at a nearby table sniggered and nudged their friends into turning around to watch what was going on. That damned Wilmington could always be relied upon to provide some kind of entertainment, although this was a new direction for him. Usually he was busy seducing a woman or fending off jealous boyfriends or husbands.
The tracker was clearly as embarrassed as hell and most people would have been wary of upsetting the deadly sharpshooter, but the scoundrel was always willing to dare anything for a good jest. And it looked like the young sheriff was going to add his two bits to things too.
JD ranged up on Tanner's other side. Vin was so intent on Buck that he had not even realized the kid was there, until the later grabbed his neckerchief and whipped it off. "Hey, Buck, look at this pretty, little thing Vin's wearing. Isn't it nice?" He waved it at Wilmington.
Vin lurched to his feet. "Give that back!" he demanded, trying to snatch it.
"I'm just going to show it to Buck," the sheriff retorted, deftly avoiding Vin's grasp.
Vin lunged for him, bearing him over backwards.
In spite of bashing into a table and knocking it over, JD still managed to toss the neckerchief in Wilmington's direction.
Unfortunately, one of the watching cowboys made a grab for it at the same time that Buck did and it ripped right across.
Though normally slow to anger, Vin saw red. He gave a cry of rage and anguish. Then he punched JD in the nose, before scrambling to his feet and flinging himself at Wilmington. The bigger man actually staggered back under the blows raining on him, but then spotted the blood running from JD's nose. Hell, Tanner need not have got so rough with the kid over a bit of fun he thought and he moved to avenge the sheriff.
Blocking a wild punch from Vin with his left forearm, he landed a solid right to Vin's left cheek that sent the tracker bashing back into the wall. His head hit hard and he slid dizzily to the floor. He shook his head to try to clear it and started to rise. It was then that his gaze fell on a bottle that had been knocked onto the floor when JD slammed into the table. Seizing it by the neck, he smashed it down on the floor, breaking off the base, and then rose clutching his new weapon.
Seeing the broken bottle and the bloodlust in the sharpshooter's eye, Buck started to back away, but Vin followed. The surrounding men fell back as he moved towards them.
Meanwhile, the gambler was hurrying across the room.
As Vin had intended he had seen him arrive and had understood the tracker's intent. He had smiled quietly to himself at Vin's sartorial efforts, but appreciated the thought nonetheless. He had also seen Wilmington move over to torment the tracker, but had figured that Tanner could deal with him. However, clearly things had got out of hand. "Mr Tanner! Vin, stop!" he appealed, reaching for him.
"Don't touch me!" Vin growled, without turning, seemingly sensing his intent.
He had Buck backed up against the wall. Wilmington was fingering the hilt of his gun and JD had his already drawn, but was clearly at a loss as to what to do for the best. He could not shoot Vin and yet he could not let him stab Buck.
At that moment a black clad figure pushed his way directly into Vin's path. "Drop that bottle, Tanner!" he ordered, glaring at the tracker.
Vin hesitated, but made no other reaction. His eyes appeared shuttered.
"Didn't ya hear me? Drop it now!" Larabee snarled.
For a moment, Vin wavered and the watchers held their breath, fully anticipating that Larabee was about to take the brunt of Vin's berserker fury.
Then the tracker's eyes seemed to focus. "Ch-Chris?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes, it's me, cowboy," the gunslinger quietly affirmed.
Vin slowly lowered his arm and the bottle fell from his grasp. Head down he turned and headed for the door, people parting before him.
Larabee turned to his oldest friend. "Ya'd better have a good explanation for this," he warned, as he turned to follow Vin.
As he left the saloon a babble of voices broke out. The vast majority was on Wilmington's side. The tracker was dangerous. Who could be safe with a man no better than a damned wild Indian wandering the streets? "Hey, Wilmington," one man called, "yer a lucky man! It's a wonder our resident savage didn't scalp ya!"
Meanwhile, Larabee cornered the tracker in the livery, in the act of hefting his saddle towards Peso's stall. "Yer not leavin' like this, Vin," he stated firmly.
"Yes, I am!" the tracker replied, trying to push past the larger man.
Steely hands clasped his shoulders and shoved him back against the wall. "No, ya ain't!" Larabee growled.
"Damn ya, Chris, let me be," the tracker protested, reluctant to relinquish his tack, but aware he could not both hold it and elude the gunslinger.
"No! I want to know what's been goin' on. And yer goin' to tell me one way or another."
Blue eyes flashed fire at the gunslinger's implied threat. "No, I ain't! Ask Buck. He'll tell ya."
"I want yer version, cowboy. Put the saddle down and talk to me. Vin, ya know I'll give ya a fair hearin' before I shoot ya."
That won a reluctant smile. "Nobody else will."
"I don't care what other people say. Ya oughta know that by now, Vin."
The tracker nodded slowly. He would back Chris Larabee against the world, and from the moment they had first locked gazes, he had known that the gunslinger held him in the same regard. Yet Buck was Chris's oldest friend and going after him with a broken bottle would be hard to justify at any time, let alone over something as apparently trivial as a neckerchief. "It was jest a bit of a disagreement," he said.
"Over what?" Larabee persisted.
"Nothin'. It's all my fault. Buck 'n' JD just got me a bit riled."
"More than a bit, cowboy. What'd they do?"
"Ya'll think I was stupid," Vin said despondently.
"I'm sure I will, but tell me anyway."
"They were teasin' me about my clothes."
"I guess ya are dressed a bit different to usual, but then Buck gets at ya over yer jacket too and ya don't lay into him for that."
"This was different, I ... I had a present."
"Huh?"
"I had a fancy neckerchief. It was real purdy and made of silk. And JD grabbed it."
"What happened to it?"
"It got ripped. It's ruined," he added forlornly. He lowered his saddle to the ground, fished in his pocket and then held out a scrap of material that he had somehow managed to salvage during the fight.
"Yeah, I guess it is. Yer right though, it looks like it was nice, like yer fancy shirt," he added, looking at the less than pristine garment. "Why were ya all dressed up anyway?"
"I wanted to look nice for Ez," Vin explained sadly.
"What?" Chris questioned incredulously, thinking that he must have misheard.
"I said I wanted to look nice for Ezra," Vin repeated.
Larabee's heart contracted. He felt a most odd sensation assailing him. Surely it couldn't be. It just couldn't be jealousy ... could it? "Why?" he demanded bluntly.
"He gave me the neckerchief."
"What's he givin' ya presents for? It ain't yer birthday, or anythin' is it?" he added, hopeful that the answer to the latter question would be yes, thus disposing of the suspicions crowding his mind. Tanner was so beautiful. Although Standish was not averse to female company, he definitely seemed to prefer his cards to romantic interludes, but perhaps it wasn't cards he liked more, but what were of legal necessity, more clandestine pursuits. 'Oh, God, what if he's after my tracker?' he thought possessively.
That brought him up suddenly. Beautiful? My tracker? Hell, what was he thinking of? And why had he been too blind to see it before?
Innocently unaware of the nature of the thoughts coursing through the gunslinger's mind, Vin explained, "He bought it for me when we were over in Eagle Bend 'cos he saw me admirin' it."
"And since when has Standish been in the habit of buyin' ya gifts."
"He ain't. He's never given me anythin' before." Vin was frankly bemused by Larabee's odd tone, as well as by the unanticipated turn that the conversation seemed to be taking. He had expected Chris to bawl him out for hitting JD and attempting to stab Buck, but instead of that the gunslinger had instead started a strange, rather unsettling interrogation about his relationship with Ezra.
"So why's he startin' now? What's his motive?"
"What do ya mean?"
"Standish ain't noted for his generosity so he must have somethin' planned."
Vin bristled. "Ya always misjudge him," he protested. "The others do too. I reckon he's a real kind person."
"Yeah, but what 'kind'?" Larabee asked sarcastically, unhappy to hear Vin's comments about the gambler.
"Iffen ya'd just take the trouble to really get to know him ..."
"I trust ya ain't meaning that in the Biblical sense," the gunslinger interrupted.
"Huh? I don't get ya, Chris?"
"No, the issue is whether Standish gets you."
Vin stared at him, his eyes perplexed. "Yer confusin' me, cowboy. I just cain't figure out what yer on about."
"Perhaps I should show ya then," Larabee said, throwing caution to the wind. He moved forward.
At the invasion of his personal space, Vin automatically went to step back, but there was nowhere to go as he was up against a wall. He flinched slightly as Chris reached out and placed a hand on the wall on either side of him, effectively hemming him in. "Ch-Chris, what ..." he started, only to be silenced as Larabee leaned in for a deep kiss.
He was still standing there, mouth open and stunned Chris pulled back. "Well?"
"W-Well, what?" the tracker asked, his voice shaking.
"Does Standish give ya those? Or these?" he inquired, leaning in again to bite at the sharpshooter's neck.
Vin gave a little yelp, as the gunslinger nipped, and raised his hands to try to push him away.
"What the hell are ya playin' at, Larabee?" he demanded.
"Ya liked the neck adornment that Standish gave ya. I thought ya might like this one better," Larabee replied, moving his hands to secure Vin's wrists before continuing with his attentions to Vin's taut throat.
Vin could have struggled. He might not have been able to overpower Larabee, but he could have tried. But he did not. He was frightened by the totally unprecedented turn of events, but not repelled. Indeed, anything but.
He had been drawn to Chris from the moment he first set eyes on the black-clad man and now he realized for the first time just how attracted he had been ... and still was. If only Larabee would adopt a friendlier tone, he could even say he was enjoying this new development. However, Chris was a dangerous man, no stranger to violence and he seemed to be acting out of anger rather than from any feeling of affection for the tracker.
No, Vin Tanner did not want to make a fool of himself by responding to Larabee only to have the gunslinger turn his love, and he was honest enough to call the emotion by name now that he had recognized it, into a weapon to use against him. Having seen Larabee in more than one deadly rage, although never having had one directed against him, he knew that the gunslinger might reject him out of hand if he was mad enough, even if he hurt himself in the process.
Accordingly, he stood passively, while Larabee marked him, and awaited the gunslinger's next move.
"Do ya know what that mark means?" Larabee demanded.
Vin shook his head.
"It means ya ain't accepting presents off of anyone, but me."
"I don't understand."
"What's confusin' about it?"
"Well since I cain't recollect anyone else ever givin' me presents, that ain't really an issue, but I ain't sure why it bothers ya so much."
"I thought I'd just showed ya. Yer mine, Tanner, and don't ya forget it."
"Don't I get any choice in the matter?"
"Why? I suppose ya want that damned fancy gambler."
"No."
"Who do ya want then?"
"S-Someone that l-loves me," Vin admitted, blushing.
"Why won't I do then?"
Vin was confused. Was he hearing things? "Do ya mean ... Ya don't mean ...Ya didn't sound like ya did. I thought ya were just mad with me."
"Tanner, I ain't in the habit of kissin' cowboys unless I love them. Shit, I ain't ever kissed one before, but I sure as hell want to do it again."
Hearing the longed for declaration, Vin's azure eyes gathered sudden brilliance, shining with love, and his mouth curved into a dazzling smile. "Me too, cowboy," he whispered, melting against the gunslinger.
Some hours later, Vin entered the saloon. "Hi, Ez," he said, "do ya know where Bucklin and the kid are? I need to apologize to them."
"That will not be necessary, Mr Tanner. I succinctly explained the situation to our esteemed colleagues in words of one syllable, that even they could not fail to comprehend, and I believe both intend to beg your pardon for that most unfortunate contretemps."
"Huh?"
"They acknowledge themselves to have been at fault and regret their actions."
"They don't need to be sorry, Ez. Things worked out real fine. Real fine!"
The comment and the tracker's sparkling eyes bemused the gambler more than somewhat, and he was tempted to abandon good manners and seek further elucidation, when his eyes fell upon the old neckcloth that the tracker was wearing. "Please permit me to express my regrets about the fate of your bandana."
"Don't worry about it, Ez. I liked the neckerchief lots, but 'cos of it I've ended up with somethin' that means all the world to me." He pulled the ragged cloth down to expose his throat. "As ya can see someone gave me a replacement neck decoration."
"Somebody jealous?"
"Yep!" Vin replied, grinning happily.
"Well, I cannot say that I agree with Mr Larabee's taste in neck adornments, but I cannot fault it in other respects."
While more than a little surprised at the gambler's perspicacity in making the identification so effortlessly, the tracker replied, "And it's all yer doin'! Thank ya, Ez."
THE END
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