It was just the two of them in the saloon now. The
gambler and the gunslinger. One trying desperately to remember. The other
trying equally hard to forget. Neither one succeeding. Silence reigned as
each man drained his glass and then refilled it, only to drain it again just
as quickly. Over and over, they repeated the process. And still, it wasn?t
enough.
I won't forget. A promise spoken over the body of a dead man.
His father-in-law. Sarah's father. Adam's grandfather. A promise that had
been made, not only to Hank, but to himself. And to Sarah and Adam, as well.
A promise that he was failing to keep.
It hadn't been until Hank had
ridden into town, bringing death and madness with him, that Chris had
realized how much of his family he had lost. Their faces, their voices. The
memories had all faded from his mind and heart so gradually, that he hadn?t
even known they were missing. How could he have let that happen? How could
he have to strain to recall the exact shade of Sarah's eyes? Or the sound of
Adam's laughter? It frightened him that he couldn't remember. He didn't
want to forget them. He wanted to remember. Needed to remember. He just
was no longer certain he could.
Chris closed his eyes, hoping to hear
the sound of his son's voice. Instead, all he heard was JD's exuberant
laughter. He tried to see his wife's smiling face. All he got was an image
of Vin's shy grin. The one reserved especially for him. Dammit! The tracker
never seemed to be far from his thoughts lately. And if it wasn't the
tracker occupying his thoughts, it was the kid. Or the healer. Or even the
gambler sitting across from him, drinking like a man who could find no other
relief from the pain. Like Chris. They were all there inside him. A part of
him. Crowding out the pieces of his past. Remaking him into someone new. He
could see it happening. He just didn't know what to do about it. Didn't know
how to stop it.
He could feel the beginnings of panic claw at him. He
didn't know how to deal with the confusion in his soul. Anger. Hate. Guilt.
Those he could handle. They were like old friends. But these new feelings
scared him half to death. He wasn't sure he was ready to let go of his old
life and build a new one. With new people. New loves. And yet, it seemed to
be happening to him anyway. As if he had no say in the matter. All it had
taken was an ex bounty hunter, with steady blue eyes, to start him on this
new path. And the other men were right there behind him. Pushing. Caring.
Making him care. Making him forget.
"I have a bottle of the finest
whiskey this side of the Mississippi in my rooms, Mr. Larabee. Would you
care to join me in a glass?" The gambler's voice startled Chris out of his
thoughts. Neither man had spoken in so long that Chris had hardly even been
aware of having company. He wondered what had finally brought the other man
to speak. And what secret pain Ezra was hiding. He wouldn't ask. It was
probably better he didn't know.
"I..." The gunslinger hesitated. He had
been going to refuse the invitation. But something about the normally
insouciant gambler's expression made him change his mind. A hint of
vulnerability in the green eyes.
"That sounds good. This whiskey is
about done for, anyway." Chris held up the nearly empty bottle that rested
on the table between them.
"Then let us adjourn to more congenial
quarters." The look of misery in the gambler's green eyes lightened by the
merest fraction at his reply. But it was enough.
The gunslinger
followed his companion out the door, silently begging forgiveness. Hoping
Sarah and Adam would understand why he couldn't keep his promise. Hoping he
could keep a new promise. The promise to always be there for this
family. The one that he seemed to have acquired despite himself. Maybe he
would ask the gambler what was wrong. Hell, Chris still felt confused and
angry and everything else under the sun. But maybe he didn't have to feel
those things alone anymore. Maybe none of them did.
The End
