My pa never taught me this. He never taught me how to kill a man, I learned
that all by myself.
I remember the first time he put his beat-up old rifle to my shoulder and
told me,
"Remember that it's the hit that counts, son, and not how fast you shoot
off the bullet."
He was talking about hunting game then, but any way you look at it pa was
only half-right, I know that now. I know that there is a world beyond the
one we lived in back then. In this world the prey you hunt is your own kind
and the difference between life and death is how quickly you can move your
hand from your hip to your gun and from there how quickly you can take aim
and squeeze the trigger.
I haven't felt this ready to kill someone in a long while now, not since
I lost my wife and son. Today that seems like such a long time ago and yet
those feelings are still there, just under the surface, and now I'm facing
another loss.
Two bottles and four small stones shatter against the rocks they are placed
on as I fire at them now. I drop the empty shells in the sand and reload,
the action is so automatic that I don't even waste a single thought on it.
Being this far out of town no one cares what I do. Good, I need to focus
on this so I can forget for a while what is to come.
I wish I had those men here right now so I could show them what a fair fight
means, instead I have to settle for rocks and bottles and that ain't half
as satisfying.
With all my heart I wish that I could look into their eyes and make them
sweat for a while. I can feel the rage right under my skin, waiting to break
free, it feels almost ice cold in it's fiery intensity.
It's no use, though. I've got no one to take out my anger on, they are six
feet deep in the cold ground already. They should have had some time to think
about what they left behind. They should feel it, just like we all
do, but they're gone and don't know anything about the anger, the pain or
the sorrow.
I was out by the shack just a few days ago when Buck came riding in with
dust clinging to him like a second skin. He had been riding hard so there
was obviously some trouble brewing.
He wouldn't meet my eyes, that's how I knew.
Who? was my first question. Buck looked like he'd rather be anywhere
than where he was right then but he finally took a deep breath and looked
into my eyes as he said, "Vin."
"Is he dead?" I asked.
"No, but it don't look good, Chris."
I only had one more question to ask him.
How? It was the only word that could encompass all that I was feeling
at that time. How did it happen? How could it happen?
I knew at that moment that it was starting again, that slow descent into
Hell. Vin had steered me in another direction, why hadn't I been there to
help him?
Seemed some cowboys anxious for fun had come into town and got angry when
they were told to leave again after making too much trouble for everyone.
An hour later they came back even drunker than before and shot Vin in the
back when he happened to pass by where they were hiding in the livery stable.
That made them panic and Buck, Ezra and JD cut them down in a gun fight as
the men rode down main street, shooting at everything in sight and hitting
several people. The boys didn't even find Vin until it was all over and the
shooters were dead.
It was just Vin's bad luck. Vin's and ours.
Nathan said it was touch and go from the beginning. Vin made it through the
first night to our surprise and by the second and third day he remained the
same and Nathan got a little more hopeful but not much. For almost four whole
days we did nothing but sit and wait for the Reaper to come but Vin is a
fighter and wouldn't give in so easily. On the fourth day I couldn't take
it anymore and when I saw that there was barely two hours of daylight left
I had do to something. So here I am. Shooting at rocks that don't shoot back
and while it don't get rid of the hurt much it still keeps me from thinking
about it for a while.
I haven't had a drink in all this time, almost a record for me. I wanna know
right away what happens to Vin, good or bad, so I can't afford to get drunk
right now. My hands are steady as I replace the stones and fire once again
but no matter how hard I try I can't forget for even a second why I'm really
here and so I've barely been gone for an hour before I ride back into town
again.
Suddenly the fear is on me that it has happened while I was out of town and
I hurry but when I stop in front of Nathan's I breathe a little easier again
as I see them all sitting much as they did when I rode out. I look at their
faces.
JD's is the easiest to read, that boy'll have a hard time out here if he
don't learn better to hide his feelings. Still I can't help but be thankful
for this trait of his, it reminds me of what it was like to be young and
full of possibilities. This waiting has taken as hard a toll on him as it
has on me and I know it has woken bad memories for him too. He lost his mother
just some years ago. A heavy burden of sorrow to bear on such young shoulders.
Josiah looks like a rock as he sits on a chair next to Ezra. His eyes are
far away, I think he's praying but it could be he's seeing a gathering of
crows around us.
Buck is standing near the kid with a comforting hand on JD's shoulder but
his eyes are on mine. I nod to him and he takes a deep breath and I see his
eyes fill with compassion before he slowly nods back. If anyone knows, it's
you, old friend.
My eyes wander to where Ezra is sitting, restlessly shuffling his cards.
He barely gives me more than a glance and appears lost in thought. The trouble
started in the saloon, in a game he ran, and I know that he thinks that maybe
he could have stopped it all before it came to this. He thinks I blame him
but the funny thing is that I really don't.
Once upon a time I might have put the blame for all of it on him and maybe
I even did four days ago but now I just feel tired.
Last of all I look at Nathan who is just coming down the stairs to join us
on the boardwalk. He just shakes his head, not saying anything but the message
is loud and clear all the same. It won't be long now.
My gut feels like there's a block of ice in it as I walk up the long stairs
to Nathan's room and open the door.
It's too soon. Much too soon. I knew it could happen but I didn't think it
would and now I'm not ready.
Vin lies much as he did this morning before I rode out. I don't know how
Nathan can tell, Vin looks the same to me. But then I hear it. A hitch in
his breathing that tells of what a struggle it has been for him to hold on
this long.
I sit down by his side, in the same chair I've sat in so many times before.
I've been in here a million times it feels like - why does everything look
so different now? I see things I've never seen before, details - like how
one of Nathan's curtains is torn some where it has caught on a nail that
didn't get hammered in properly on the left side of the windowsill. Small
things, but they must have been there all the time and I just haven't seen
them before but it's as if everything is sharper today.
"Vin," I say, as gently as I can. I hate to disturb him but it somehow seems
important that he knows I'm here now. His eyelids flutter a bit but otherwise
there's no reaction.
"Vin," I say again but a bit louder. This time he turns his head slightly
towards me and open his eyes. He looks like he's halfway gone already but
he's been looking like that for days now. Still, I feel in my heart that
Nathan is right, it won't be long now.
He looks at me and then his eyes shifts towards the window. I know just what
he wants. He belongs out there, not caught indoors like this where the air
is stale and dead.
I walk over to the window and as I open it a small breeze swirls around me,
lifting the curtain. When I turn back towards Vin I can see a smile in his
eyes for the first time in days as the breeze tugs on his hair. There's relief
in his eyes and deepfelt thanks and more that I can't put into words but
that I understand because it's in my heart as well.
And then he suddenly ... stops ... being there. There's no struggle,
that has all gone before. He just draws no further breath. He's gone.
"Good night, cowboy," I whisper to him as I close his eyes. "Sleep well."
Lord knows that you have earned this rest. You sure gave them a run for their
money, Vin Tanner.
Was he just waiting for me to come back, to say goodbye? Somehow I think
he was.
I walk out into the cold twilight but I stop just outside Nathan's door.
Looking back at Vin one final time there's a great hollowness in my heart
as I close the door and leave him behind.
Nothing will ever be the same again. Once a heart was beating, now there's
only silence.
Let me sleep and know no more. I'm done.
The End
