Thanks to Blackraptor for housing these tales.
If horses could swear, Peso
would have had the entire U.S. Navy blushing. There was nothing he hated more
than getting wet, and he was well and truly soaked. The black gelding flicked
his ear, trying to at least keep the rain from tickling the inside of his
ears. Vin gave him a pat acknowledging that their predicament was all his
fault for deciding to go out for a ride. They didn't get a lot of rain in
this area, so how was he supposed to know that today of all days it was going
to rain? No doubt the animal would repay him later.
Vin closed his eyes in thanks; up ahead was what looked like an abandoned
town, likely from the gold rush or cattle baron years of the past. This would
have been on the edge of both. Vin grinned, the livery looked like it was
still in good enough shape to keep Peso dry off some, and he could poke around
and explore until the rain stopped. Vin had to smile; who would have thought
there was a whole town on the useless, except for hunting and fishing trips,
land that his old Sergeant had willed him?
He didn't want to think about the older man being gone. Everyone else had
taken one look at the lanky new recruit who looked about half grown and had
decided he was one of those good for nothing hard drinking, druggies from
the inner city that were nothing but trouble. But the grizzled Sergeant had
seen something else, and decided that Vin Tanner was going to make something
of himself, even if it killed the pair of them. He had informed the young
soldier that he would not only take the GED test at the next offering, but
he would pass it or else; and then proceeded to dedicate his own personal
time to tutoring, praising, and bullying as needed. When the test was passed,
he took the kid, as he called him, out to the biggest steak the youngster
had ever seen. He said nothing when Vin stopped the bullies in the unit from
pestering him by systematically getting even with all of his torments in the
most ingenious and creative ways the veteran had seen in forty years in the
service. He also worried a lot less about Vin after witnessing his ability
to take care of himself. When Vin started taking the newbies under his wing
and they looked to him as a leader, the Sergeant responded by recommending
that Vin be promoted. The result was another steak dinner and Vin's Corporal's
stripes. He proved himself a capable leader, well liked and respected by both
those under him and those he answered to. The sergeant was proud of his protégé
and Vin had never forgotten his mentor or let him down. They had kept in touch
after the older man retired and Vin had left the service. On the man's death,
Vin had found out that his friend had left him the shack and land they had
hunted and fished at together. He, Chris and Buck were staying there for a
week. This morning Vin had wanted to go off by himself to remember the man
on what would have been his seventy fifth birthday. Chris understood and Vin
had departed.
Thanks to the usually dry climate, the barn that, according to its sign, had
belonged to someone named Yosemite was not only standing, but in relatively
good condition, just badly worn. Vin striped Peso of his gear and gave him
a pat. He took the remains of an old feed bag and rubbed the animal down as
well as he could. Just out of curiosity, Vin plied the pump a few times, water
gushed. Reaching in his saddlebag he pulled out a large plastic bag; he always
had one just in case, and finding an old pail on its side, he lined it with
the bag and filled it. It wasn't much, but it was something. He offered it
to Peso, who drank about half of it. Not for the first time, Vin was thankful
that he had switched to a halter and bridle combination about a year ago.
He untied the lead rope from the saddle horn, and, checking that the clip
was securely attached to the halter, he tied the gelding. Leaving the reins
tied on the saddle horn so the black wouldn't trip over them and checked the
bucket was in reach. If Peso wanted to get out he could, easily enough, but
as long as it was raining, Vin didn't think the animal would move until forced
to and maybe not even then. One last pat to his ornery and beloved horse,
and Vin left to go explore
Outside the barn door his foot hit a mud patch and slid out from under him.
Swearing, Vin's body followed his foot and his head made a resounding crack
as it hit the doorway. Lying on the ground, he did a quick assessment and
found that outside of a tremendous headache, everything was where it should
be and working fine.
Looking back in the barn, he blinked for a moment, as he could have sworn
there was a faint, but clear, burly man with a thick black beard and mustache
standing with a horse's hoof in hand, shoeing him. It kind of reminded him
of when a picture was double exposed and there was a second imagine on top
of the first one.
"Rung my bell better 'n I thought," Vin muttered, rubbing his hand
on the sore spot on the back of his skull and still feeling nothing but what
he should have.
Watching his footing this time, Vin once more entered the street, or what
had been the street, and nearly passed out. There had been some weird movie
or television show JD had convinced him to watch with him where a guy was
in a big movie chamber thing and surrounded by millions of images swirling
and changing at rapid speeds. Vin now knew how the guy felt. He had been assaulted
with a barrage of images when he had looked down the street. There had been
millions, all coming at once.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes again and looked up at the street.
The images had slowed down. A man in a black duster and another one with a
rifle over his shoulder were walking together towards the graveyard at the
other end of town, where it looked like a lynching was taking place. A young
man in a suit and a bowler hat leapt off a stage couch before it had stopped,
with nothing but his saddle.
Another image hit, this one of a stage coach that almost ran over a small
boy, but a blond missile in black grabbed him and hurdled them both to safety,
barely. The man looked like Chris might have in the old west. The same man
was dunking someone's head in the water trough to get information from him.
A pair that looked like Buck and JD were chasing one another around and laughing.
Ezra, or someone that could have been his twin, was walking down the road
in just his boots and hat with a table cloth knotted around his middle with
a gun belt over it. As far as Vin knew, Ezra didn't even own cowboy boots,
much less an old west type of gun belt. The Buck look a like was hustling
down the street in his boots and a towel, carrying his clothes, it looked
like he had left the bathhouse. JD was holding a woman in his arms who had
been shot. Buck was fencing with someone; only Buck didn't know one end of
a sword from another!
Vin sighed in relief, the images stopped. Then he blinked, there at the end
of the street were all seven men in a row in Union army uniforms. Then those,
too, faded.
Obviously, Vin had hurt his head worse then he had thought. Or else he had
watched one to many westerns, since he was evidently seeing his friends as
old west gunmen. Maybe he would wake up and find this had all been a dream.
As long as he was here, he was going to at least look around, though.
"World Famous Ritz, someone was an optimist," Vin chuckled, reading
the sign over the hotel and filling in the parts that had fallen down with
what logically would have made sense. It was a boarding house and hotel. He
poked his head in the door, but there wasn't anything particularly interesting
in it. It was a place where a bed and meal would have been found if you were
traveling. He shuddered a bit, thinking that it was actually in better shape
than some of the holes he had had to dive into while doing covert ops missions
as an Army Ranger.
He smirked when he could have sworn that he was watching Buck scramble out
the hotel's second story window in long johns and unfastened pants and boots,
while clutching the rest of his clothes. The mustached image then lost his
balance rolled off the roof and landed at the feet of the Black clad gunslinger
who even had the blonde's smirking half smile. He also saw Images of his friends
sitting and relaxing in front of the building. Sometimes reading, or drinking
coffee, or just watching over the town and the people in it.
Next came the telegraph office. It was hard to believe that there was a time
when that had been the only connection between towns and families. He couldn't
help himself, he went in and tapped on a few of the keys. "Computer's
better." He commented.
A loud neigh brought him back outside and had him looking toward the stable;
likely just Peso complaining, but still. There was a doctor's office over
the barn. He again saw multiple images of his friends. Sometimes they were
being carried up, sometimes they got up the stairs on their own with a guiding
hand from one or more of the others. A man that looked like Nathan ran down
to meet the men more than once. Occasionally, one or more would be sneaking
out, obviously still injured, and hauled back by the others.
Continuing with his exploration, he was next at the bath house. There was
Buck, JD, and Josiah in large tubs having an animated conversation of some
kind that ended with JD throwing water over his shoulder and hitting Buck
square in the face. Well, these ghosts, or whatever they were, at least seemed
to have had interesting lives from what he had glimpsed so far.
Across the road was a church, Josiah and Nathan appeared to be working on
the roof. Josiah appeared again, sanding the door frame. Even in this place,
Josiah offered a place of safety and refuge.
Next to the Church was the jail. Again images flashed of Chris, Vin had decided
to give up and just start calling these ghosts by his friends names, and various
others relaxing and sitting in chairs out on the boardwalk area in front of
the jail, just as they had in front of the hotel. JD was there a lot, wearing
a sheriff's badge and trying for all of his youth to look stern and formidable.
At one point, a rifle toting JD was blocking the door against a mob of town
people, backed up by Vin in buffalo-hide, wielding a sawed-off shotgun. Buck
and Ezra were there now dealing with some loud mouthed kid that they were
wanting to quiet down. Chris came storming in and minutes later dragged a
man out by the collar and dunked him in the water trough. It was the same
image he had seen earlier. The group had evidently spent more than a little
bit of time here.
"At least I'm seeing friendly ghosts," Vin told himself, rubbing
his head where it still ached.
Crossing the street, he went inside and found the images continued. JD at
the desk with his feet propped up, going through all of the wanted posters.
Chris and Vin looking at them together more slowly, committing each face to
memory. Ezra sitting at the desk playing solitaire or any other game he could
convince one of the other men to play with him. Looking at the cells, Vin
saw Chris punching someone out. Evidently the blonde had the same wonderful
people skills here as he did in the modern world. Buck was in a cell talking
to JD outside the window in a sombrero. Chris holding his head in his hands
recovering from a bender, Vin had nursed him through a few of those. Ezra
bored and tossing his cards into his hat. Josiah locked up and throwing his
boot out the window to get someone's attention. Nathan was sitting with an
older black man in poor health, who was braiding something. Vin pacing like
a caged animal while Chris tried to calm him down. Vin appeared again, but
this time in the aisle between the cells, fighting with an Indian.
The last image in the jail was so perfect that Vin laughed until he was nearly
crying. Maude, Ezra's mother, was in the cell now, and had it looking like
the fanciest hotel room to be found.
There was a bar now on the side of the street he had originally been on, but
the ghosts had evidently not frequented the place, since there were no appearances.
Funny that, he was now looking for them; half an hour ago, he would have laughed
at the idea of them.
There was a general store and a dry good store, he saw a faint image of a
woman in black in front of the general store, like the liveryman she must
have only been slightly associated with the group of men. The dry goods store
had a quick image of the buffalo-hide clad man sweeping and wearing an apron,
then entering the store and coming out with a rifle that he held as he joined
the black clad Chris and together they walked to the graveyard to save Nathan.
That must have been the near lynching he had seen earlier.
"Standish Tavern; I gotta' tell Ez about that!" Vin laughed and
went inside. Something told him this was where his ghosts had made themselves
at home. He went in, and it was like being in twenty bar brawls all at the
same time, the images came so fast. In a minute, the images slowed again.
There was the Buck twin near the piano, downing a beer and flirting with one
of the 'sportin women' of the town. An attractive Hispanic woman, looked like
Inez who owned the team's favorite bar, was tending this bar. Ezra was at
one of the green felt tables playing poker. The others were at a table in
back that allowed them to see everything without having to leave anyone's
back to the door. JD was having milk and the rest were having beer or Red
Eye Whiskey. This was obviously where the group relaxed and just hung out
together. While he was getting lots of images in here, other than the initial
ones of the bar fight, and it looked like a lot of them had just been blowing
off some steam, the feeling he got here was one of relaxation and enjoyment.
He could have sworn that Chris gave him a nod and near smile as he was turning
to leave.
"Clarion News," he read over the last door and went in, there was
an old printing press. It seemed that the town had been large enough to have
a newspaper. There was a blonde ghost woman in here working away on the press
while a small blonde boy was playing in back. Apparently it had been home
as well as office. He blinked as he watched the boy growing up rapidly before
his eyes and put something in a closet. Vin went to see if he could tell what
it was that had been put there. There was something different about that ghost,
none of the others had changed like that. There was a wooden chest in the
back of the closet.
"Vin! You here, cowboy?" Chris's voice could be heard on the street.
"Here," Vin yelled back, taking the trunk and starting to pull it
out. His head sent him an instant message that leaning over like that would
not be tolerated in his current condition.
Another set of hands took it and pulled it out. Vin gave a slight nod of thanks
to Chris as he rubbed the achy spot on his head.
Chris raised an eyebrow.
"Banged my head, I'll be fine," Vin assured him.
"Sure you will, junior," Buck said, moving Vin's hand and examining
the spot.
Chris was in his face looking at his eyes.
Vin sighed, these two could be such mother hens, sometimes, but at least Nathan
wasn't here. He put all other worriers to shame with his fussing.
"What are you two doing here?"
"We came after you! You left before breakfast and it's nearly sunset,"
Chris growled.
"Took us all day to find you," Buck added.
Vin looked at them, he hadn't been poking around for more than an hour, maybe
two! Looking out the window, he saw it was close to dusk.
"Didn't mean 'ta worry you. Never knew how late it was," Vin apologized,
his accent thicker than normal.
Chris shrugged it off.
"Not many people own their own towns, Vin. Might want to keep it up better,
though, looking kind of beat up," Buck teased.
"Could stand a little work," Vin agreed. "Reckon it might be
fun to camp here sometime or something, though, really check it out."
The other two men agreed.
"Grab Peso and let's get you home, Cowboy. I want to get back while there's
still some light," Chris ordered.
"Don't want to be in a ghost town over Halloween?" Buck chuckled
at the blonde.
"All the ghosts in my town are friendly ones!" Vin retorted with
mock indignation.
"Ghosts?" Chris snorted.
"Bet they're all over this place," Buck answered. It was hard to
tell if he was joking or not.
Vin looked down.
The older men looked at him.
"Vin?" Chris asked.
"Probably just from hitting my head, but all day I've been see the whole
team here in old west gear." Vin sighed and reluctantly related what
he had been seeing.
"Like you said, at least they're not bad or mean spirits here,"
Buck said seriously after a pause.
Chris glared over at Buck and looked at Vin critically. "Head injury,
we'll have Nathan look at you when we're back. If it gets worse or you start
seeing things again, let me know and we'll have Nathan being the truck to
the shack and pick us up."
"I'm fine, just have a headache is all," Vin groused.
"Right, you're just fine," both men said together. Vin could be
lying on the ground bleeding to death with every limb severed, half decapitated
and a knife sticking out of him and he would say he was fine.
Buck hefted the medium sized trunk, while Chris walked next to Vin, alert
in case he was needed, while the trio headed to the barn and Peso. Vin saddled
up and the trio headed out. The younger man had hoped the others might have
seen the ghosts as well. Somehow ghosts were less frightening than the other
alternatives that his mind came up with.
It had been three days since
Vin had found the ghost town. They had agreed to wait to open the trunk until
they could all be there. They were all seated in the living room, the trunk
was in front of Vin, since he was the one that had found it and so owned it,
and besides he owned the town. They had all been making guesses for the last
few days as to what might be in it and why it had been left behind.
Vin opened it. On top was a letter. He read aloud.
"It seems strange to be leaving a letter when there is no one to address
it to, but then this day is seeing me do many things that I could never have
seen myself doing. I'm leaving Four Corners, where I was born and grew up
and have now grown old. Unfortunately, like many towns that were bypassed
by the railroad, we've gotten smaller and poorer every year and now have almost
died out. It's hard to believe the busy and growing community this was when
I was a child. It somehow didn't feel right to me to take the things in this
trunk out of Four Corners. It contains the few remaining possessions of seven
extraordinary men, as well as as much of their story as I remembered and was
able to gather from others. They were the stuff the legends of old west were
built on, but they were very real. It was men such as these that tamed the
untamable west; they were the last of their kind and lived at the end of the
time when gunfights, and stagecoaches, and telegraphs and posses were real.
Sadly that time is gone, now, and so are men such as they. It seemed wrong
to take these treasures of theirs away from the town they called home and
loved and protected for so long. So, I leave them here, and if someday this
is read by someone, I hope you will treasure the mementos, but even more that
you will read the story and not forget these heroes. William Travis 1925."
The room was silent.
"I wonder if Judge Travis is related to that Travis?" Nathan asked,
as silence descended in the room.
"We can ask," Chris picked up his cell phone and dialed. The others
waited as he left a message for the judge to call him, assuring that it was
not an emergency as neither he or any of the boys were in the morgue, hospital,
or jail. He likely would have been glared about the suggestions of where the
men might have landed themselves, but there was too much precedence in the
past for them to complain. They had ended up in all of those places in the
past. The morgue, thankfully, had not been permanent, but Buck still got the
willies at the mention of the place.
Vin took out the first item. He took a deep breath, he recognized it from
the ghost he had seen using it.
It was a small, two shot derringer that you secured to your arm under a shirt
or jacket. An early concealed weapon. Handling it carefully, he presented
it to Ezra.
The under-cover agent gapped. "I… I could not accept such a gift,
Mr. Tanner." It was in excellent condition, a little oiling and cleaning
and it would probably even work. The previous owner had obviously cared for
it well.
"I think it's supposed to be yours, Ez." Vin took a deep breath.
"I, I knocked my head bad just before I started poking around in that
town. I kept seeing these visions or ghosts, or something, that looked like
all of us. But they were in old west stuff, wearing guns, and seemed to have
lived in that place for a long time."
"Cool! I don't mean about you getting hurt, Vin, but about seeing us
in the west!" JD blurted.
Buck smacked him on the back of the head and gave him a stern look. He quieted
down.
"Head injury! Why is this the first I heard about it? That's nothing
to mess around with! Especially if you start seeing things!" Nathan started
in on his most contrary patient.
"I didn't say nothing because by the time we got back here I was fine,
I was just a little out of it at first," Vin assured him.
"Fine, You could have all four limbs severed and you'd say you were fine,"
Nathan snorted.
Vin didn't bother responding.
"Visions can be powerful things, brother," Josiah rumbled.
"Didn't learn anything, they just went on about their everyday lives
and I watched. If I was supposed to learn anything, I missed it," Vin
told him. He had learned to take dreams and visions seriously from a shaman
he had met while a U.S. Marshal, his posting had been next to an Indian reservation
and he had spent a great deal of time with the Indians and was the main person
asked for when someone from the office was required to deal with a problem
that involved the Indians, since he was friends, or at least trusted more
than the others, by the tribe.
"Perhaps, as the letter indicated, they wanted nothing more than not
to be forgotten," Ezra suggested.
"I know I wouldn't want to be forgotten after I was dead, like it didn't
matter that I had ever lived," JD commented.
"Amen, brother," Josiah agreed.
The others were silent. There was something about the idea of being forgotten
as if you had never existed, it was unsettling.
Vin pulled out a Black duster next, and presented it to Chris. The blonde
stood up and tried it on. It fit as if made for him. Taking it off and draping
it carefully over the arm of his chair, he nodded his thanks and acceptance
of the gift from the younger man.
An old worn bible with a leather cover was next and given to the team preacher.
Josiah caressed it lovingly. "I would imagine this could tell a tale
or two."
JD nearly passed out when a gun belt with matching pearl handled Colts was
taken out and handed to him. He was speechless, for once. His mouth opened
and closed like a fish but no words came out.
"He says thank you," Buck, offered, shaking his head at the young
man.
Vin smiled when the next item was a sawed off shotgun in a special made holster,
he kept that for himself. He had always wanted one, and now he had one.
A hand made braided horse bridle was next. Vin closed his eyes and thought
back over all the images he had seen to know who it had belonged to. Opening
them, he presented it to Nathan.
"You don't see this kind of workmanship anymore," Nathan commented,
examining it closely.
Next, was a plainsman type cowboy hat that he passed to their resident ladies
man. Buck grinned and placed the item on his head, it fit perfectly.
"See, now THIS is a real hat, kid!" Buck informed his friend while
taking yet another swipe to try and get the Boston Red Sox's cap off his head.
JD ducked with long experience.
A deck of Maverick playing cards was next; the old type that didn't have printed
numbers. Ezra was presented with those as well, and responded with a two-fingered
salute to his friend.
A notebook of sorts was next that someone had filled with a list of roots
and barks and grasses and other things of that sort and their medicinal uses.
This was passed to Nathan, who got glassy eyed as he read it. He was all about
alternative medicine whenever possible. "This is incredible, I.. I, thank
you."
A black gun belt was next with silver conchos on it. Chris took a deep breath
and swallowed when he was given it. He collected memorabilia of the old west,
especially guns, and this was a dream piece. "Vin…"
"Like I said, I'm just giving these to the ones who are supposed to have
them, it's yours."
Chris nodded his appreciation and acceptance, pulling the perfectly preserved
gun out and sighing with pleasure.
JD was given a small pile of dime novels wrapped as a group in wax paper.
He was close to drooling. When he saw the title of the top one was the Magnificent
Seven, his gasp was nearly a squeal.
Vin blinked as a buffalo hide coat was next, and, trying it on found it fit
perfectly. He set it aside for himself. He had never seen anything like it.
A rough wooden cross on a long piece of twine was brought out and presented
to Josiah. He immediately put it on.
"A fitting reminder of a carpenter. Thank you, brother," Josiah
commented.
A red scarf was next. Vin closed his eyes and saw the Inez woman tying it
onto Buck's arm, who was holding a sword of some kind. The sharpshooter opened
his eyes and handed it to Buck. The mustachioed man raised an eyebrow and
accepted it with a nod.
"Well, I guess someone else had a way with the ladies," Buck waggled
his eyebrows and accepted the gift.
At the bottom, there was a small wooden horse someone had whittled. A gold
pocket watch was next to it with the inscription to W.T. from O.T. 1879. Vin
read the inscription aloud.
"W.T. would likely be William Travis," Chris said.
There was a knock at the door and JD got up to answer it. He returned a minute
later with the judge.
"Boys," the older man greeted them, nodding to the whole room. "I
was driving by when I got the message, so I thought I would drop in personally
to see what the problem was."
Vin handed him the letter they had found. "This was on top of this chest
we found in an abandoned town near Eagle Bend.
Orin Travis pulled out his reading glasses and read the letter, then looked
up at the men. He had turned white. JD leapt up and gave the older man his
seat. Orin again gave a nod in thanks and acknowledgement.
"We were thinking maybe you were related to William Travis," Chris
explained.
"He was my grandfather. I remember growing up on tales of his from growing
up at the tail end of the old west era. Never more than about half believed
his stories, they were so incredible."
"I guess this watch is likely yours, then," Vin held out the pocket
watch as well as the wood horse.
The man blinked, "My great grandfather, the first Orin Travis, gave that
to my grandfather when he was a boy, he lost it just before moving east after
my grandmother died."
The men watched silently, as the man set the watch down and ran a hand over
the horse. "My, my grandfather had a whole herd of these, they were carved
for him by a friend of his mother's. I, I played with them as a boy when he
came to live with us during the war."
Ezra handed him a handkerchief as he took off his glasses, and dabbed wet
eyes. The others were silent, obviously the judge had been very attached to
his grandfather.
"I guess these are the last things," Vin said quietly, holding a
pile of papers, neatly tied.
The top one was a wanted poster with a drawing that looked like Vin on it,
and his name as well.
"Guess you were a trouble maker even then, Cowboy," Chris smirked.
The others were trying to get over their surprise.
"He was a Tanner, so it must have been a mistake," Vin shot back,
pretending to be indignant.
The next sheet was a letter of pardon for the wanted man.
"Told ya he was innocent," Vin was practically sticking his tongue
out.
"Never doubted it, brother," Josiah gave a big toothy grin.
"Recon' I ain't the only outlaws here, this one's a pardon for an Ezra
Standish. Seems he was arrested for running a con."
"I can believe that," Josiah responded.
Ezra, took the sheet handed to him by Vin.
"Obviously, another unfortunate case of mistaken identity that was rectified,"
the undercover man replied, ignoring the smirks of the others.
"Yeah, he made a mistake and got caught, then talked his way out of it,"
Nathan snorted.
Ezra smiled, showing his gold tooth, and gave a tip of an imaginary hat.
"Hope the rest aren't wanted posters and pardons for the rest of us,"
Josiah said.
"No, nothing official, just…": Vin let it trail off.
"May I?" Orin asked.
Vin handed him the rest of the sheets.
Orin chuckled. "Cowboy Chris stories. I had no idea that they had been
written down. Seems they were real, not just made up."
"Cowboy Chris?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.
"My great grandmother's friend who carved the horses, was a gunfighter
named Chris, my grandfather use to tell me bedtime stories about Cowboy Chris
and his six friends. I hadn't thought about those in years," Orin said,
quietly, not looking at any of them.
He put his glasses back on and read the first page, the others settled in
to listen.
"It all started one day out west when a bunch of trail herders rode into
town and decided, after getting drunk, to lynch a local doctor who hadn't
been able to save their boss from gangrene…"
Seven men listened and were transported back to another time when another
seven men had come together and made a stand for law and order.
