The doors to the bar swung open again, and Chris glanced up, a cursory look, just as he'd looked up every other time the two slatted panels had parted in the previous two hours. This time, though, the people to push their way into the saloon weren't locals, already calling out their orders to the bartender, already looking around the room for their friends—as much as anyone had friends in Purgatorio, that was.
No, this time, he was the one to recognize the group that walked in, three strong and as out-of-place-looking as Mary had been the one time she'd followed him down here. He watched them as they looked around the bar, he assumed searching for him. He saw Buck's hand resting casually on the butt of his pistol, the way that Vin was holding his rifle loose across his chest. Ezra was there, too, looking far too calm and composed for him to be anything other than totally alert.
They were all looking, but Vin was the first one to spot him, hiding, as he was, in the shadows. Chris watched as he tapped a finger on Buck's arm, said a quiet word to Ezra, as he himself became the focus of a trio of stares. He nodded at them, just once, the barest hint of acknowledgement, but that was all it took; moving in practiced unison they started in his direction, weaving their way through the unorganized mess of people and tables.
As they drew close, Chris reached for the bottle of whisky sitting on the table in front of him, still mostly full, and refilled his glass. He didn't lift the glass to his mouth, though, didn't drink. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and watched their approach.
When they reached his table, though, gathered around and crowded in close, they didn't say anything and neither did he. He didn't have to. He knew it would only be the matter of a few moments before they made themselves at home.
And it was.
Buck and Vin each brought a nearby chair close with an extended leg, a hooked foot. They quickly spun the chairs around, straddled them and rested their arms along the backs, but Ezra took his time. He walked over to the nearest table and made a show of selecting the least offensive of the chairs gathered there before bringing it back over and sitting down in it the correct way. Chris watched as he extended his legs out in front of him, then leaned forward, reaching for the bottle of whisky and turning it so that he could see the label. Chris saw him grimace slightly when he recognized the brand.
It was only after he'd turned the bottle back towards Chris, though, that he said, "You know, Mr. Larabee, it is generally considered to be impolite for one to leave town in the middle of the night without saying a proper goodbye."
"Especially when you have a whole group willin' and ready to ride out with you the next mornin'," Buck said, bending farther over the back of his chair. He was scowling at Chris, looking frustrated and annoyed and maybe a little angry. It wasn't a look that Chris was used to being on the wrong side of and he didn't like it much, but Vin gave him an excuse to look away when he said, "And there are fliers like this floatin' around out there."
Chris watched him as he dug his hand into his pocket, feeling around for a moment before pulling out a much-folded piece of paper. He tossed it onto the table, but it had hardly landed before Chris was reaching out to pick it up again, to unfold it. One of the top corners had been burnt and as Chris held the flier, bits of ash flaked off, catching on his fingers.
Despite the damage, though, none of the pertinent information on the flier had been lost. Namely, Chris' face, the offer of a reward, the words 'Dead or Alive'. He knew it wasn't an official 'Wanted' poster—Chris had seen enough of those in his time to know when he was holding a genuine one—but it was close enough.
"It'd seem there's a bounty out on your head, Cowboy," Vin said. "We found that in Evan Taylor's room after we found out you'd gone this mornin'. He didn't do such a thorough job of cleaning up after himself before he left."
"Just tossed it towards the fire, sort of like it was an afterthought," Buck said. "Left it there, plain as day, for us to find."
"But if we take into consideration the wide berth that everyone in this fine establishment seems to be giving you," Ezra said, "and add to it the two coffins we saw on the cart outside, I'm going to guess that you already figured out that Mr. Taylor's intentions were not, shall we say, pure."
The corners of Chris' lips twitched, just a little. "It was self-defense," he said, and it had been.
Taylor had taken him to a warehouse just off of what passed for Purgatorio's main street, and a man had been waiting for them there, just as Taylor had promised. The man who had killed Sarah and Adam, Taylor had said. But instead of them setting the other man up, as Taylor had 'planned', Taylor had turned his gun on Chris.
He'd said, "'m sorry, Mr. Larabee, but two hundred dollars is more than I can afford to say 'no' to. 'm sure you understand."
He'd been little more than a kid still, and he'd actually looked surprised when Chris had pulled his own gun out, firing and winging him before Taylor's finger had even twitched on the trigger. Chris hadn't watched him as he fell because the second man wasn't as trigger shy as Taylor was, and Chris had already had to dodge two bullets before he'd managed to get his own shot off, bringing the man to his knees.
"It was a setup," Chris said, looking down at his drink, swirling the liquid around in the glass a few times before looking back up at his companions, at their concerned faces. "I think, maybe, I knew it was a setup all along. It was just too convenient, Taylor showing up in town like that, knowing exactly what I wanted to hear. But I wanted—" He trailed off.
"We know, Chris," Buck said softly, sighed.
"I only winged Taylor, though," Chris continued. "The other guy, the one who was in on it with him—" He hadn't told the others about that, he realized, but when he glanced up, they didn't look surprised; there had been two coffins on the cart after all.
"He obviously knew more about it than Taylor did, because after I took him to his knees, he fired at Taylor, straight shot. The kid didn't have a chance." He paused, swirling the liquid in his glass once more. "Then the damned bastard bled out before I could get any information out of him. I didn't even get his name."
He waited for the others to say something, but they were silent, even Ezra. He could feel them watching him, though, unspoken words heavy in the air.
Finally he said, "I just thought—" He trailed off again.
This time it was Vin who spoke. "We know."
"The silver lining to this whole fiasco," Ezra said after another moment, "if there is a silver lining, that is, is that where there is one flier advertising two hundred dollars for your head, dead or alive, there will be other fliers advertising the same. And next time, Mr. Larabee—"
"We'll be ready for 'em," Buck said. "We will find the person responsible for Sarah and Adam's deaths, Chris. We're here to help you."
"But it will only be a 'we' if you can keep from harin' off into the desert and getting your fool hide killed," Vin said. "We can't be spendin' all our time ridin' out after you, makin' sure your head stays attached to your shoulders, alright? Comprende?"
It took a long moment for Chris to respond, but finally he looked at Ezra, at Buck, at Vin and nodded. "Understood," he said, and he was caught up enough in the seriousness of the moment that he started just a bit when Ezra slapped his open palm down on the table and said, "Wonderful. Yes, that is good to hear, as I don't think any of us would relish another ride like the one we made here this fine day."
Chris watched as he looked to Buck and Vin for confirmation, watched as the both of them nodded.
Then Ezra continued: "And on that note, I believe that I could use a drink. Something more appealing than that in which you are partaking, Mr. Larabee—if there is anything more appealing in this fine establishment, that is."
With that, he stood up, Vin only a beat behind, saying, "I think I could use a little somethin', too. Buck? You want anything?"
Buck said, "Just a glass. I'll help Chris finish off this bottle here. Some of us aren't picky about what it is we drink."
Chris was pretty sure that he heard Ezra make a remark about actually liking having a functioning stomach as he walked away, but Buck didn't make the expected comment in response. Instead he looked at Chris and said, "We want to help, you know. That's what we're here for."
This time it didn't take Chris a long moment to respond. This time the words came more easily.
"I know," he said.
The End
