ONE
Emerging from the saloon, Ezra Standish glanced down the street just in time to spot a buckskin jacket clad form hurrying into the stables.His heart leapt. In the month or so since, Larabee returned from escorting Senator McMillan, at Judge Orrin Travis' behest, he had hardly set eyes on the tracker, let alone had the chance to speak to him. Chris had taken Vin out to his cabin and installed him there on the morning following his return to Four Corners. Since then, on the few occasions when Vin had been in town, Larabee had been hovering over him in a manner calculated to deter any but the most foolhardy from trying to seek a private conversation with the sharpshooter.
That had been contradictorily both a disappointment and a relief for the gambler. Loving Vin as he did, Ezra greatly desired the chance to talk with him, to check that he was now fully recovered from his various injuries and that he was happy with the gunslinger. However, no fool, Ezra also realized that it might be for the best if he kept aloof from the tracker, as he feared that Vin might divine his feelings or, worse, that Larabee might decide to object to his monopolizing of the tracker's time. He knew that Chris was not happy about his closeness with Vin and arousing the wrath of the gunslinger could have potentially fatal consequences.
However, here was Vin, apparently alone, and Ezra's heart sung at the opportunity presented to speak with him. Accordingly, he hurried to the livery stable. "Vin, I thought it was you! We have not seen much of you in Four Corners recently," Ezra said. "Will you accompany me to the saloon for some liquid refreshment?"
Vin seemed flustered by his presence. "N-No, thank ya, Ez. I-I gotta go. I just came to get my stuff." As he spoke, he reached for a small, wooden box in the corner of what was usually Peso's stall.
"Why are you collecting your belongings?" Ezra asked. Normally he would not have committed the social solecism of making such an intrusive inquiry, but alarm bells were ringing in his head and they could not be ignored. Vin's happiness and well-being were too important to Standish.
"I'm goin' away for a spell, Ez, and I ..."
"Going away?" the gambler interrupted. "Why?" Again, the lack of manners implied by his rude interrogation grated upon his sensibilities, but this was too momentous to let slide and Vin was never one to volunteer information.
"Just am," Vin mumbled, hanging his head so his disheveled curls shielded his face from the gambler's keen and all-too-knowing gaze.
"But what is your intended destination?"
"Dunno."
"Is Mr Larabee cognizant with your intention to embark on this expedition?"
"Do ya mean does Chris know?"
"I most certainly do."
"N-No, n-not exactly." It was almost a whisper.
"Vin, have you fallen out with Mr Larabee?"
"Sorta," the tracker mumbled from beneath his mop of tangled, auburn curls.
Aware that Vin had not yet looked directly at him, Ezra put out a hand and gently, but firmly raised the tracker's chin. His heart contracted as he saw the split and swollen lip and the reddened eyes. "Did he do this?" he queried.
Vin nodded. "Yeah, but ... but was kinda my fault," he murmured.
Ezra fought to hide his anger, not only at what the gunslinger had done, but also at Vin's willingness to shoulder the blame for Chris' actions. Keeping his voice as steady as he could, he asked, "In what way?"
"I-I went out without his say-so and I was late gettin' home. He doesn't like that. Ya see he gets worried and ... and ..."
"Suspicious?" Ezra supplied.
"Yeah," Vin admitted reluctantly.
"So am I correct in presuming that this is not the first occasion that this has happened?"
"It is!" Vin insisted, but then added honestly. "Well, not him gettin' mad and tellin' me off, but he ain't hit me before ... 'cept when ... but that was different," he said dismissively.
The gambler was not about to let that pass. "'Except when'?" he demanded bluntly.
"That's past. I-I don't want to t-talk about it."
"Tell me," Ezra ordered abruptly.
Caught off guard by the tone of voice usually employed by the gunslinger rather than by the softly spoken gambler, Vin found himself obeying. "Aw he just ... he was just mad 'cos I was outside that night before ... before Hudson ... and he ... he put his belt across me," Vin finished, blushing furiously.
"Are you telling me that he beat you when you were ill?" Ezra questioned incredulously.
Vin nodded, but insisted, "I shouldn't have gone out. He told me not to. I s'pose he was a bit drunk then too, but he was worried about me."
"Knowing Mr Larabee I can accept that he had probably imbibed far more than he should, but I cannot accept thrashing someone, especially a person as sick as you were, shows even a modicum of concern."
"He was worried, Ez," Vin insisted. "I don't think he meant to do it. He just ... just ..."
"Just lost his ever volatile temper," Ezra supplied. "Well, if you forgave him that transgression, why is the current one different?"
"I was stupid. I didn't think it'd happen again ... but now he's hit me ... and I don't ... I don't ... Ya see, Ez, lotsa people used to hit me when I was a kid and I couldn't do anythin' about it, but I ain't goin' back to livin' like that. I can't!"
"And you certainly should not, but running away is no solution."
"I ain't runnin'! Look, Ez, I just ... I-I just need some time alone ... to ... to think about what I'm goin' to do."
"No, Vin, you need to talk to someone. You stable your horse and accompany me. No, do not attempt to argue, just do as I say," he added, when he saw Vin was about to demur.
Vin nodded resignedly and obeyed. Ezra had done so much for him when he had been ill that it seemed churlish to refuse. He unhitched Peso, led him into the livery and unsaddled him.
Ezra watched impatiently as Vin provided the horse with both food and water. He had never known anyone who lavished such time and care on an animal, especially one that had a strong independent streak and might well bite the hand that fed it if the mood took it.
Finally, the tracker completed his task. He did not want to go with Ezra, but he knew he could not drag out his horse feeding any longer without it becoming obvious to Standish that it was partly a delaying tactic while he fruitlessly wracked his brain for reasons not to accompany the gambler. He turned to Standish. "Can't we talk here please, Ez?" he appealed. "I don't want to meet up with the others."
"No, Vin, we will go to my rooms," the gambler decreed. "This cold and uncomfortable venue is not conducive to a rational discussion."
Vin nodded resignedly. He knew there was no point in trying to argue with Ezra, he did not have the words or, at this point, the energy.
They walked along behind the buildings and entered the boarding-house via the backdoor lest they should encounter any others of the seven.
Once safely installed in Ezra's sitting room, the gambler said, "Now kindly explain what has occurred to create this unfortunate situation."
Vin looked awkward. He ran a nervous tongue across dry lips and rasped, "I dunno iffen I should talk about Chris. I reckon I've said too much already."
However, Standish was not prepared to let him off the hook. He believed it to be essential that the tracker talk about the problem rather than closing in upon himself and perhaps bolting from the town to an uncertain future. "You need to confide in me, Vin, and I can assure you that I shall treat whatever you impart with strictest confidence."
"Huh?"
"I will not tell anyone else."
"Oh, I know that. I trust ya, Ez," Vin hastily assured him.As always, Vin's belief in him shook the gambler. He could honestly say there was no other person who regarded him as the tracker did. Why even his own mother did not trust him and, in truth, he could understand that. "Well, then?"
"It just don't seem right to talk about him behind his back."
"But if it enables you to clarify things in your mind, it might be beneficial for your association with Mr Larabee," Ezra responded, wondering as he said it why in hell he should be so foolish as to assist Vin's relationship with another when he wanted the man for himself.
"I s'pose so," Vin conceded reluctantly. "All right, I will tell ya, but ... but ..."
"But?" the gambler prompted.
"I don't rightly know where to start."
"Start at the beginning, Vin.""Do ya mean the day I first met Chris?"
"No, commence with that night he returned from his perambulation with the senator."
"Yeah, that was ... that was real nice, Ez ... eventually."
The concluding qualification was not lost on the gambler, but he made no comment upon it, simply responding, "Tell me."
"Well, I thought that when he let ya go with Buck that he believed we hadn't done anythin', but he was still suspicious 'cos I was in yer bed ... and 'cos of what I'd said. Ya see when I first woke up my eyes were sorta blurry and ... and ..." He trailed off blushing guiltily.
The entrancing tinge of colour to Vin's lean cheeks drew the gambler's eyes. Indeed, to his confusion, Ezra found himself nearly admitting that he had given the sharpshooter the sleeping draught. However, old habits die hard and he gulped back the uncharacteristic confession and prompted, "And?"
He watched Vin nervously twisting his hands together as he sought the words he needed. "Ya see I thought it was ya comin' in and I ... I kinda needed one of yer cuddles so I said ... I said ..."
'Oh, God,' Standish thought, 'how in all that is sacred did I escape a bullet between the eyes?' "Vin, just tell me what you said," he insisted impatiently.
"I said 'Come here, Ez'," the tracker admitted.
Ezra let out a breath he had not known that he was holding. The request had been ambiguous enough to save him.
However, that relief was short-lived as Vin explained, "He knew I was invitin' ya into the bed."
Ezra's poker face must have slipped because the tracker hastened to add, "I told him we hadn't done anythin' but cuddlin' when I got nightmares."
"And Mr Larabee believed that?" Of course, it was the truth, though Standish would secretly have preferred other bed activities with the delectable tracker, but the gambler was only too well aware that few would have believed it. Further, he knew that his reputation was hardly one of trustworthiness, merited or not. A saving grace was that Tanner was seen by most as a straight shooter in both meanings of the expression. He did not wittingly lie. However, others might imagine he could fall victim to the gambler's wiles through his own guilelessness.
"Yes ... No ... P'raps. But he knew I wasn't havin' a bad dream when he came in, so I explained everythin' was my fault. I needed someone and I used ya 'cos he wasn't there. Then he said it wasn't ever goin' to happen again and I was scared he meant he was goin' to leave me, but he said he was goin' to ...." He broke off, blushing furiously and then added in an embarrassed undertone, "to put his brand on me."
Ezra felt his stomach tighten at the expression. His beautiful Vin should not be treated like that. Not like a possession. Fighting down his anger, he asked, as calmly as possible, "Am I correct in assuming that you then proceeded to indulge in sexual intercourse."
Vin blushed furiously and nodded almost imperceptibly.
Although not certain that he wished to hear the answer, Standish asked, "Did he force you, Vin?"
"N-No, but I ..."
"But?"
"Nothin'." He felt he could not give Ezra any details about that frighteningly wonderful night. "I was scared, but he ... It was okay once he'd ... once he'd ..." He broke off, swallowed and then insisted, "It was fine," adding, "I ain't scared of sex any more."
"Well, I am most gratified to hear that," Ezra responded, thinking, 'though I would be considerably more pleased if I had been your instructor.' He hastily pushed the errant though aside and continued, "However, judging from your present state, there is more to the story. You said he said he wanted to put his brand on you. Am I correct in my assumption that that is where the problem lies?"
"Yep. Yer real clever, Ez, to pick up on that," Vin said admiringly.
Normally Standish would have enjoyed the compliment, but he bearly registered it, so determined was he to find out what had happened. He could not bear to think of the tracker as unhappy. "Would you care to elaborate?" he questioned, keeping his voice even although he was tense with anxiety.
"Huh? What's elab ... elab ... what ya said?" Vin asked in confusion.
"Provide me with some details please."
"I-I can't! N-Not about that. I couldn't tell stuff like that to anyone. Please don't make me, Ez, I just can't!" Vin protested plaintively.
"Well, please tell me what has happened since then," the gambler said, relenting in the face of Vin's obvious distress.
Vin hesitated and then nodded slowly. Finally, he began his halting rendition of what had occurred.
Tired and hungry after a very long day at Nettie Well's place, Vin had arrived back at Chris' shack just as night fell.
He had not informed Chris of his intention to call upon the elderly woman, to help her out with whatever jobs had accumulated during his lengthy convalescence. He feared that if he did so Larabee would veto the plan, in case he hurt his arm again, or might insist upon accompanying him to see that he did not.
The gunslinger had been showing himself over-protective to the point that Vin had felt both bored and smothered because he was not allowed to do any work around Chris' small-holding. However, Vin was sure his arm was healed enough to use. After all, it was four days since Nathan had removed the cast and he was certain the healer would not have done that if he had been at all concerned about the long-suffering limb. In fact, he figured a little exercise would be all to the good in helping to build up the wasted muscles. In any case, he knew Nettie could not afford to pay anyone and he hated the thought of her attempting to do the heavy work herself.
He had wished he had the learning to be able to leave a note to inform the gunslinger of his plans. Although the thought occurred that Chris might then have followed him to thwart him, he still felt he really owed the gunslinger that consideration.
In the event, the day had gone well. Nettie had been delighted to see him and had busied herself making some of his favourite biscuits while he performed the much-needed work. He quite rightly suspected that she picked out the less strenuous tasks for him, but she still managed to keep him busily and happily occupied all day.
At least, as happy as he could be under the circumstances. For though he was pleased both with how his arm had held out, and even more so, to be useful, he kept thinking about Chris Larabee. That dark shadow hung over him all day. Chris would be displeased.
'Displeased? Ya might as well face it, Tanner,' he thought ruefully, 'he'll be damn well furious.' He had already had to deal with outbreaks of Larabee wrath on more than one occasion. Chris seemed to expect he would just sit around the cabin recuperating all day and lectured him severely if he tried to do any work about the place. Even grooming Peso had called down a rebuke upon his hapless head.
Vin had just bitten his tongue after his first few attempts at protest or explanation had just served to rouse the infamous Larabee temper even more. He knew Chris loved him and was just trying to do his best for him, so he swallowed the hot retorts he wanted to make, put his head down and endured the lectures in silence, which he hoped Larabee might mistake for repentance.
In fact, Chris had not been fooled, but he did not care whether Vin was sorry or not as long as he obeyed in future. What mattered to him was that the tracker was safe and well, and the gunslinger was prepared to get off side with Vin in, what he saw as, the latter's best interests.
With Larabee's strictures firmly in his mind, it was with some trepidation that Vin rode back to the cabin. However, he could not help feeling guilty too, as he knew Chris would be worrying about his late return.
The cabin appeared to be in darkness, but he knew Chris frequently sat with but one candle burning. Never one to shy away from duty or danger, he decided to report in before unsaddling Peso and feeding him.
His mind on the likely lecture to come and still frantically trying to find words that might prevent the anticipated explosion of Larabee wrath, Vin had opened the door of Chris' cabin without the caution he usually employed when entering any building, and had been caught completely off-guard.
As he pushed the door shut behind him, he was seized without warning and slammed back hard into the door. Bruising lips found his, stifling any protest he might have made. A knee forced his legs apart and a rough hand moved between them. The tracker raised his hands and shoved against his attacker's black-clad chest.
"Stop it, Vin!" Larabee growled, grabbing the slighter man's wrists and pushing them against the door.
"No! Damn ya, Chris. Leave me alone!" Although he normally welcomed Chris' advances, this was different and he was scared. He tried to twist free, but Larabee was too strong. He wanted to kick, but could not quite bring himself to do that ... yet.
"Why? Don't ya want me? Who've ya been with?" the gunslinger demanded. Vin could smell the alcohol on his breath. Chris always resorted to the bottle when he was angry or upset and it did nothing to improve his already volatile temper.
Fighting down an urge to snap back at Larabee, Vin replied as calmly as he could, "Nobody. Well not like ya mean anyway."
"Where have ya been then?" the gunslinger snarled.
"I'se been at Miz Wells' place. I ain't been out that way in weeks and I knew she'd have a lot of work that needed doin'."
"So? I don't see why ya had to be the one to do it."
"I wanted to! I like Nettie and she can't afford to pay help."
"I'll bet she could, but the sly, old bitch won't while she's got a sucker willin' to work for nothin'."
Unable to control his tongue at the criticism of the elderly lady, who he held in considerable respect and affection, Vin retorted, "Shut up, Larabee! Yer talkin' damned rubbish."
For reply, Chris backhanded him hard cross the mouth, splitting his lip and smashing his head back into the door.
The action had necessitated that he release one of Vin's wrists, and although hurting from the blow, the tracker reacted automatically, driving his fist into Larabee's stomach.
The blow lacked force since Vin had had no space to move, but it infuriated the gunslinger, who flung himself on the slender tracker, wrestling him to the ground and straddling his hips.
Another blow had Vin's head spinning. He gasped with pain and arched his body, frantic to dislodge the gunslinger. "Get off me! Get off me!" he shouted in panic. "Yer as bad as Hudson!"
That comment penetrated the fog of alcohol and anger swirling through the gunslinger. He rolled off Vin immediately.
Vin skittered into a corner, dragged the knife out of his boot and held it protectively in front of him.
"Vin, there's no need for that," Larabee protested. He was sobering rapidly and was well aware of the enormity of what he had just done. He held out a hand and started to inch towards the tracker.
"Keep back!" Vin insisted.
Chris stopped. "Vin, I'm sorry, I ..."
"Shut up! Just shut up! I don't want to hear it." In truth, all he wanted to do was to get outside. He could feel tears welling and the cabin had become claustrophobic.
He started to edge towards the door, keeping his back against the wall the whole time. Deaf to Chris' appeals and apologies, he groped for the door handle with his free hand, opened the door and flung himself out.
Then he had swiftly mounted Peso and taken off into the darkness.
He had spent the rest of that wretched night huddled miserably in a small cave some five miles from Larabee's home. He did not know what to do for the best. He was absolutely torn. Loving Chris as he did, his heart told him to go back, to forgive his lover as he had done other times when Chris had hurt him with ill-considered words. However, this time the hurt was different. 'Ya'd be a fool to go back to someone who's gonna try to rule yer life for ya and to knock ya around if ya disobey, Tanner,' he told himself sternly.
Yet to depart would be to abandon the person he loved more than life itself and also to leave the family he had always longed for, because he would, of necessity, have to part with the other five men as well.
He raised a hand and roughly wiped away the errant tears that were trickling down his pale face in spite of his best efforts to hold them back.
'Ya've survived on yer own most of yer life, Tanner,' he argued fiercely, bitterly ashamed at his weakness. 'Ya don't need no one. Iffen ya'd never stayed on in Four Corners ya'd never have got hurt like this. Yer so damned stupid! Ya should have kept to yer old rules about never stayin' in one place too long.'
'But then I'd never have got to know Nate, Josiah, Bucklin or the kid,' he thought. 'Hell, I wouldn't have got someone real clever like Ez for a friend. Then there's Nettie and Casey and Miz Potter and everybody else. Damn, I dunno what to do. I wish I could ask Ez, he'd know.'
He debated going to ask the gambler's advice, but it did not seem fair to involve him. He feared what Chris might do if Ezra counselled him to leave and the gunslinger found out that he had done so. No, it would not be fair to put Standish at risk.
Finally, after a sleepless night of tossing unpalatable alternatives back and forth, Vin made his decision. He would go. He could not live with a Larabee consumed with jealous suspicions. Chris would only hurt him more, and far worse, he might be driven to retaliate and injure Chris.
Legendary as Chris Larabee's wrath might be, Vin was uncomfortably aware that he was the more deadly of the pair. Chris would never back-shoot a man, but if it came to the crunch Vin would do anything he had to do. He would never have survived his childhood and youth if he had not been so ruthless. Normally he had this under tight control and seemed the most mild and easygoing of men, but when his blood was up he knew he might do anything. He just could not bear the thought that he might hurt Chris.
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