Characters: Vin and Buck
Old West – pre-series, set during Civil War
What if – Four Corners wasn’t the first time Vin, Buck and Chris set eyes on one another?
Worthless legal disclaimer – not mine.
“Hey, Yank! Y’all still there?” came the soft call on the chill night air.
After a pause the reply came from behind the shattered wall of the shed, “We’re still here, Reb. What’re you doing here?”
“Thought your friend might like some water and victuals. Spare blanket, if you want. “
A sound that might have been a sigh wafted from the hiding place. “Got nothing to trade.”
“Not tradin’ or sellin’. Things are yours if you want’em.”
“We could sure use them.”
The teenager crept closer to the edge of the wall. “I’m goin’ to drop’ em right around the edge of the wall.”
“Afraid I’ll shoot you if you show your face?”
“If the Lieutenant asks if I’ve seen any Yankees while I was out of camp, I can say ‘no.’ Can’t lie worth a damn. You best get out of these woods before dawn. “
“Another fracas tomorrow?”
“Our camp still where it was this morning?”
“Far as I know. That second canteen has warm willow bark tea for pain. Tastes like swamp water but it’s even worse cold.”
”Thanks.” As a gentle swishing sound of something moving through the tall grass seemed to move away from the wall, the dark haired speaker hissed, “ Hey, Reb!”
“Why are you helping us?”
The pause was long enough he didn’t think his question would be answered.
“Saw you and that yellow haired captain of yours during the fight. I was about to squeeze the trigger and put a Minnie ball in you when the captain looked right at me. He stepped between you and me and kept looking. You don’t look like kin. Must be a real good friend to do that. Don’t see many fellows who would do that for another. Startled me some, so I pulled my shot when I fired. Felt bad about it.”
“That the same reason for not calling out when you found us here this afternoon?”
“Why didn’t you shoot me?”
“If I’d known you were the one who shot Chris, I might have!” came the heated response. A moment more of silence before a quieter return. “You’re just a kid. You shouldn’t be out here, trying to get yourself killed.”
“Not a kid! Put a gun in my hand and I’m as growed as anyone.”
“Well, you’re right there.”
The swishing sound began again and the Yank called out, “Hey, Reb! Never heard anyone talk the way you do. Where you from?”
“Texas. Look, I got to get back before I’m missed.”
“All right. Thanks again for the supplies. What’s your name? I’m Buck.
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