Cry for Help

by Stan Lee *

Chris Larabee was in one of his moods. Nothing strange about that. He was a man of many moods - though most of them seemed to come in a shade of black. But this was the mood that made his friends most anxious. Not because of how it affected Chris, but because of the profound affect it had on Buck Wilmington.

Buck - so full of life, eyes sparking with mischief, a smile never far from his lips. But when this particular black cloud settled on Chris, Buck became a changed man. Watchful, wary, tense. From past experience the peacekeepers of Four Corners knew that only Buck could release their leader from this, the blackest of his moods. But they also sensed how reluctant Buck was to intervene. He seemed to be waiting for a sign, something none of the rest of them recognized. And while he waited, Chris' mood became more dangerous, and Buck became more tightly wound.

The men could understand Buck's reluctance to act. In order to reclaim Chris, Buck would hustle the man away to his ranch for a few days. Whatever happened out there was never discussed for although it brought the old Chris back to them, it seemed equally to destroy something in Buck. The man who returned with Chris was far removed from the Buck Wilmington the peacekeepers of Four Corners had come to know and to love. He was withdrawn and skittish as a colt. He avoided his friends, keeping to his boarding house room and refusing their offers of companionship. It took several days for anything like the old Buck to re-emerge and each time he came back he seemed somehow diminished, as if a small part of him had been left behind at the ranch or destroyed by whatever it was that happened out there.

As his friends came to recognize the signs of this particular Larabee mood, they tried to distract their leader so that Buck's intervention would not be necessary. But nothing they did, from the cruel to the kind, made a difference. It seemed as though these two were locked in a pattern only they understood.

Although Chris' black mood built over several days, there was usually one incident that somehow signaled to Buck that it was time to intervene. This time Chris had taken out his temper on JD Dunne, becoming so irritated with the boy that he had slammed the young sheriff up against a wall in the saloon, after polishing off the better part of a bottle of whiskey. His friends had stepped up to help their youngest, but Chris had snarled at them to keep away. Only Buck's arrival stopped this from degenerating into an all-out battle. One look from Buck and Chris had dropped his hold on JD, stalked over to the bar and demanded another whiskey.

Buck helped JD to find his feet and quietly asked the boy to saddle up two horses - one for Chris and one for himself. The time had come. Following an established routine, he purchased several bottles of whiskey from the barkeep and without exchanging a word with Chris, he turned and begun to walk out of the saloon. Chris tossed a few coins onto the bar and followed him, continuing out of the saloon without a word to anybody when Buck stopped to speak to the four remaining peacekeepers.

"We'll be gone for a few days," he said, the light in his eyes already dimming. "Keep a watch on the place while we're gone."

The others nodded. Vin cleared his throat. "You want one of us to go with you?" he asked.

"No!" Buck snapped, surprising his friends with his ferocity. Seeing the looks on their faces - hurt, worry, pain - Buck raked a hand through his hair and tried to smile. The result was pitiful. "We'll be back in a while. He'll be better then."

Josiah rose and shook his hand, a strangely formal gesture, but it seemed appropriate to the mood. "Take care of him, Buck. We'll see you when you're ready to come home."

Buck nodded and turned to leave. As he reached the batwing doors he felt a tug on his sleeve. Turning, he saw that Vin had followed him. "Bucklin, take care of yourself too."

Buck nodded, unable or unwilling to acknowledge the concern he saw in the other man's eyes. He turned to leave once more.

"Buck." Vin called him back again, but suddenly seemed at a loss for words.

"What is it Vin?" Buck asked, as gently as he could. Chris was already saddled up outside. Chris was waiting.

"Come and find me when you get back," Vin blurted, "iffen you want to - - ," his voice trailed off. "Just come and find me."

Buck looked at him, trying to discern the meaning behind the words. "I'll see you when I get back," he managed. "Look after the kid for me." And with that, he shook Vin off, saddled up and still without a word to Chris, he turned his horse in the direction of the ranch and the two rode out.

When they had gone JD returned to the saloon to join his friends. By some unspoken agreement, none of them talked about what was happening. They simply settled down to wait.

As soon as they had cleared Four Corners, Buck slowed his horse and waited until Chris caught up to him. He reached into his saddlebags, extracted one of the bottles of whiskey and tossed it to his oldest friend, who caught it, uncorked it with his teeth and proceeded to drink it slowly as they rode.

Once inside the ranch Buck broke custom only once. He slammed Chris against the wall and in a voice made menacing by its lack of emotion he whispered into Chris' ear, "Don't ever take it out on the kid again."

For a moment Chris stilled, then he shrugged off the other man's hands and laughed harshly. "Always a sucker for strays, weren't you, Buck?"

Buck stood absolutely still as Chris walked slowly around him. He flinched slightly when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris raise his hand. But the man was only raising the whiskey bottle. Chris noted the reaction and smiled.

"Relax, boy. We'll get to that soon enough."

He came to a stop in front of Buck, who had lowered his eyes. Reaching out slowly, so Buck knew this wasn't going to hurt, he gently lifted the man's chin and leaning in he planted a soft, almost chaste, kiss on his lips. Then stepping back, he barked out an order.

"Strip."

Buck hesitated for just a moment, then began to undress, remembering that in this mood Chris liked it done slowly. When he had shed his clothes he hesitated again. Chris was leaning against the wall draining the rest of the whiskey from the bottle. He looked Buck up and down slowly, eyes hard and glittering with lust. Despite himself, Buck felt a deep blush color his face. Chris licked his lips.

"You know what I want," he slurred.

Buck closed his eyes for a moment, summoning up the resolve needed to see this thing through. His mother's face flashed in front of him. She had always done what was necessary - to keep food on the table and clothes on their back, to put a roof over their heads or just to gain temporary protection for them when things got too rough. And he could do it too - had done it many times before - and for reasons that were just as important, just as life preserving.

Dragging a breath deeply into his lungs, he struggled to find the place he needed to get to in order for this to work. Opening his eyes he looked into the troubled stare of his oldest friend. A man who was lost. A man who needed Buck to guide him home. Dropping to his knees in front of Chris, he began the process of sacrificing his body to preserve his best friend's soul.

Three days later Buck saddled up his horse and left the ranch. Chris would follow behind in two or three hours. The ride back was slow and painful and Buck had to work hard to keep his mind off what had happened between himself and Chris in the days since he had left Four Corners.

He approached the town cautiously, hoping to avoid his friends, and breathed a sigh of relief when he managed to stable his horse and get to his room at the boarding house without any of them seeing him. He was about to slip out of his clothes and climb into bed when he heard a knock at his door and Vin's voice, pitched low, "Bucklin. Can I come in?"

For a moment Buck considered pretending he wasn't in, but Vin was persistent and he was too tired to play games. Reluctantly he opened the door and stepped aside to let the tall tracker in.

Vin tried to hide his shock at how bad Buck looked, but he wasn't particularly successful. "Get caught in a stampede, pard?" he managed to stammer.

Buck couldn't even raise a smile. "Something close," he replied, tiredly.

"Larabee look as bad as you?" Vin pressed.

Buck shook his head. "That's not the way it works."

"Goddamit, Buck!" Vin exploded then stopped when he saw Buck flinch. He swore at himself for handling this so badly. Buck needed a friend right now, not an accuser.

"Why don't you lie down, pard?" he said softly. "Here, let me help you." He moved to help Buck undress but the other man shied away from him.

"Got no use for another man's hands on me right now, Vin," he said, shakily and sat down heavily on the bed.

Vin watched him for a moment as Buck tried to fight off fatigue and hide his pain. He knew he shouldn't ask, but he couldn't stop himself. "What the hell does he do to you, Buck?" His voice shook with concern.

Buck closed his eyes. "Every once in a while Chris likes to remind me that I was brought up in a cathouse. I guess he doesn't like to see all that education go to waste."

Vin gasped. "Buck, don't."

Buck opened his eyes and waved Vin off. "Don't trouble yourself, son. I know what I've done and I know what I am. Ain't nothing gonna change that. If it keeps him from destroying himself, from ruining the life we've made here, hell I don't mind being Chris Larabee's whore for a couple of days every now and then."

Vin stared at the man, struggling so hard to keep it together.

"Is he worth it?" he asked quietly, working hard to maintain control himself.

"He better be, kid," Buck managed a half smile. "I've built my whole life around him. He's all I got."

The End
Sequel: Answering the Cry