Part 21    

The cloud that hovered over Vin lifted up and hurtled toward the fire where a surge of flames leapt out and met with the mist.  The cloud and flames mingled as though both were a living entity and they battled for supremacy.  The fire roared, drawing power and strength from the hearth and extending translucent fingers out into the shack, engulfing and smothering the cloud.  The mist quivered, and the fire acted on the minute weakness, devouring it, and the evil it represented, to a fiery grave.  A blinding white flash erupted inside, and just as quickly the fire returned, crackling contentedly in the pit. 

Tanner’s body surged off the ground, his back arched and his eyes rolled back in agony.  A deafening scream filled the cabin while his body shook with tremors, his limbs writhing and twitching uncontrollably.   Vin clenched his teeth, biting through his tongue, spilling a trickle of blood from his mouth.  He screamed again as though he was fending off the devil himself, then collapsed to the floor unconscious.  The room fell quiet and Vin’s breathing returned to normal. 

Ezra stared open mouthed and eyes wide.  He glanced at the sedate fire with what could only be described as a mixture of bewilderment and intrigue.  Had Larabee seen what he’d witnessed?  And then he glanced at Tanner’s unresponsive form.  “What the hell was that about?” Standish asked, though he didn’t expect Chris to reply. 

Larabee’s face was still warm from the fire’s surge and he was seeing white dots from the dazzling flare. Never had he seen such a phenomena.  And there were several moments where he had expected his life to end.  But it had only lasted thirty seconds.  Chris shook his head, unable to answer.  He touched Tanner’s chest and was reassured by the steady rise and fall.  He wiped the trail of blood from Vin’s mouth with a rag and stood up.  “I’m… taking a look ‘round outside.”   

Ezra quickly raised his eyebrows, sceptical of such a move.  The wind moaned outside the miserable little cabin, the gusts buffeting the very foundations.  “Is that wise?”   

Larabee saw the look and was quick to defend his actions.  “There is somethin’ out there.  I can feel it in my bones…” 

Ezra stood, quickly placing himself between the gunman and the door.  “And there was something just as… mysterious inside this hovel two minutes ago.”  And it almost choked the life out of Tanner while we stood by and watched! 

It didn’t take much to read the direction of Standish’s thoughts.  His were travelling along the same path.  But he needed to do something.  “It’s gone now.”  Larabee pushed the gambler aside and reached for the door, but his feet were rooted to the ground.  Loosen up, just relax.  

Ezra glanced at the dwindling fire and licked his lips.  The cloud had disappeared, but the shack seemed to have taken on a life of its own.  And the wind wailed outside, disguising threats and covering real dangers.  Was it the wind calling Larabee like a siren, tempting him into the unknown?  Had Larabee allowed danger to become his mistress since the death of his wife and child?  Had adrenalin become his true toxicant?  What was Chris’ motivation?  There was no necessity to leave the building…none that was worth risking his life for.  Where had the levelheaded Larabee gone?  He was acting reactionary and not considering his options clearly.  “I shall accompany you…”    

“No need…” the gunslinger dismissed, finally managing to lift his lead weight boots. 

“You stated yourself there was something nefarious outside.  It is only practical to…” 

“I ain’t scared of no chicken shit!  You stay with Vin.” 

Standish nodded reluctantly.   

“Ya call me if Vin has another turn.”  A lot of good they’d be able to do though. 

Standish was apprehensive; this was not a wise choice. His eyes flickered nervously between Tanner and the exit, while he listened to Larabee’s heavy footsteps as they circled the shack.  He followed the sounds, scanning the insides of the walls and imagining where the gunslinger was on the opposite side and his heart beat more rapidly while he waited inside with the unconscious tracker.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Ezra drew his Remington.  Larabee had returned to the front and Ezra sighed when the cabin door began to swing open.   Nothing had happened!  There was nothing to fear.   

Or was there? 

The Southerner’s eyes flew to the opening.  Why did it take an eternity for Chris to open the door?  His heart skipped a beat and the Remington in his hand rose to chest level.  And then, Chris was standing in the framework.  Ezra swallowed around the lump in his throat and zeroed in on his target.  His hand didn’t tremble. 

Larabee squared his shoulders, and returned the gambler’s scrutiny.  It was the flick of Ezra’s eyes and a hoarse garbled shout that had him diving off to the right.  A whoosh of air swallowed the shouted warning; a tense rush of movement and disgruntled cursing did not mask the discharge of two gunshots that pierced the very spot where he’d been standing.  Chris sprawled on the floor, stunned for a millisecond, then he rolled, bringing up his Colt in a single movement and aimed it at the gambler.  “What the hell…?” 

The gunslinger’s eyes darted from the transfixed gambler to the wide open door.  He stared out into the darkness wondering what captivated Standish.  He saw nothing.  Chris glanced back at Ezra, and his eyes widened, taking in the arrow that was buried several inches into the wall behind the gambler.  Standish had just saved his life, at the risk of losing his own.  Larabee shouldered the door closed and returned the Southerner’s stare.  Standish had not dropped his gun, and by leaning into the door, Chris was now facing Ezra’s gun for a second time that night.  “Ya get him?” 

Standish shifted uncomfortably, and looked over his left shoulder to examine the crossbow arrow.  He’d felt the parting of the air as the arrow sailed past his left ear.  He winced involuntarily, imagining where the arrow had been intended and sank to his knees, both legs feeling numb and not willing to support his weight a moment longer.  Get it together, Standish! he ordered, shaking his head to clear the dazed sluggishness.  “Sorry,” he rasped. 

“Sorry?” Larabee blew the wind from his cheeks.  “Ya just saved my hide, and yer sorry?” It was easier to vent his anger than allow the fear that was close to surfacing to rise.   It wasn’t aimed at the gambler, although his tone was rough and abrupt.  He was a fool to wander outside. 

Ezra blinked.  “My apologies for not reacting earlier¾” 

“Ya saw something,” he clarified, it wasn’t intended as a question.   Chris knew for certain they had unwelcome company outside.  He’d felt a presence when he was outside, but not seen or heard anything.  How he could have expected to hear anything over the wail of that damn wind was beyond him.  But Larabee also hadn’t sensed anyone standing directly behind him either. He hadn’t noticed.  How the hell had that happened? He lived by his instincts…were they failing him now? 

Ezra nodded.  “I am uncertain,” he contradicted himself.  There had been a shape, dark and distinct.  Both bullets should have found their marks.  They were perfect shots, and should not have missed.  If there had been something, or someone there, he should have hit him… it.   But nothing lay out in the yard.  Not even any blood.   Nothing but shadows and the howling wind moved outside.  “We…I should verify¾” 

Been down this path before.  Chris glanced at the closed door.  It wasn’t much of a barrier between them, especially as the windows were missing and the roof was half fallen in around them, but he wasn’t taking any more risks.  His instincts told him that given a second chance, the spectre wouldn’t miss. “No…stay in here.” He shoved off the door, his knees wobbling unsteadily…the impact finally catching up with him.  But he wanted to get a closer look at that arrow.  “Ya hurt?” he asked belatedly as he pulled it free from the hardened plank. 

“I am unharmed.” 

He’d seen the confusion and doubt in the gambler’s eyes. “Was definitely someone out there…or how else do we explain this?” Chris angrily snapped the arrow over his thigh and tossed it to the fire.   

Part 23 

“Mr. Larabee…Chris…I’d like to apologise for dragging both you and Vin on this jaunt.  I was under the false assumption that Mother had indeed supplied the tickets, but as that seems to be a deception¾” 

Larabee shook his head in pure astonishment.  Did Standish truly believe that he and Vin blamed him for this debacle?  He grunted, not bothering to hide his scowl.   

Ezra continued, not noticing Larabee’s menacing demeanour.  “Had you not accompanied me¾” 

“What?”  Chris interrupted gruffly.  “Ya’d still be here with…Who?  JD and Josiah?  Or worse still, ya’d be stuck out here by yerself, fighting that…that…spectre did ya call it? On yer own!” 

Standish’s shoulders sagged.  What exactly was Chris saying? Did Larabee prefer to be here?  Is that what the sombre gunslinger was attempting to impart?  “You want to be here?” Ezra asked incredulously. 

“Hell, Ezra!   I don’t want to be here!”  Any place but, in fact.  Seeing the gambler nod in understanding was not what he’d intended.  “Damn it all!”  Why did he have to spell it out?  Why couldn’t Standish just know what he was thinking without him having to say it?  He’s a conman; he makes a living reading people’s expressions, so why can’t he read me?  Doesn’t he trust what he sees?  “I’d rather be here watching yer and Vin’s back than back in Four Corners and worrying about ya’ll.” 

Ezra raised his head and read the serious note that was evident in Larabee’s expression.  He licked his bottom lip and a miniscule smile creased his mouth.  “You might yet come to regret that proclamation.” 

Chris returned the grin in fashion. 

“Reckon I should break out the violin?” 

“Vin!” 

“Mr. Tanner, welcome back.” 

“Ya guys kiss and make up?” Vin winced as he sat up on his elbows. 

Ezra screwed up his face, choking on his retort.  “Dare I ask what manner of dreams you’ve been plagued with?” 

“Weren’t dreamin’…but wakin’ up and hearin’ ya’ll sappy…Yech!” 

“Humph!” the gambler responded, feeling a little off centre.  “Any difficulty breathing, Vin?” 

Tanner twisted his mouth and frowned at Chris.  Why the hell was Standish asking about his breathing?  But Larabee stared at him with equal contemplation.  “I broke m’ leg, boys.  Ain’t nothin’ wrong with m’ chest.”  He thumped it with two solid blows. 

“So ya ain’t having any trouble?” Chris kneeled in the dirt beside Tanner. 

“I just told ya both,” Vin responded abruptly, “ain’t got nothin’ wrong, ‘cept m’ leg.”  He stared, perplexed at them both. What was their problem?  His leg was busted!  That didn’t affect his mind… there was nothing else wrong…except…his tongue was fat and swollen and he could distinctly taste blood in his mouth and he swallowed down the acrid taste.   How had that happened? 

“He doesn’t remember.” Ezra glanced at Chris to confirm.   

“Don’t seem like it.” 

Vin sat up further and shrugged away from Chris’ helping hands.  “What the hell’s got into ya pair?  I said, I didn’t¾” 

Chris rested his hand on Vin’s shoulder.  “How’s the leg, Vin?  Is there anything we can do?” 

“Yeah, there’s somethin’ ya can do,” he snapped bitterly.  “Ya could shut the hell up and let a body get some rest!”  Tanner grimaced as he shifted position, but he glared at Chris when the gunslinger went to help him.  “Don’t need ya touchin’ me!  J’st need some sleep,” he growled. 

Neither Chris nor Ezra spoke a word or uttered a sound until Tanner’s breathing was deep and regular.  It didn’t stop them from sharing confused and worried expressions regarding Vin’s behaviour. 

“That was peculiar.” 

“He ain’t doin’ so well.  What do ya expect?” Larabee growled in defence. 

Ezra licked his lips, uncertain how to answer.  To him it seemed that Vin was unaccountably angry, with both himself and Chris.  But if Larabee found Tanner’s behaviour within the bounds then he had no reason to dispute it.  He didn’t need Chris on his back when they’d only just come to an understanding.  “Of course, you are correct.” 

Chris stared at the conman for a long moment; Standish didn’t flinch under the scrutiny.  Ezra had been right about Vin, and it concerned Chris that Tanner had reacted as he’d done.  It was strange.  So why hadn’t he just agreed with Ezra and let it be?   “Ezra…” 

“I shall take position by this window, while you tend Mr. Tanner.” 

Chris nodded.  “Stay out of sight.  I don’t fancy diggin’ out any skewers,” he grinned wryly, but Standish ignored him.   

Part 24 

Ezra tiredly allowed his Remington to drop to his side.  Waiting was never one of his strong suits.  And he’d yet to see anything since taking up watch.   

“Anything?” Larabee asked. 

Standish rolled his shoulders before answering.  “Nothing apparent.”  He continued staring out into the night and feeling Larabee’s gaze on his back. 

“About earlier¾” 

“Were you acquainted with the deceased?” Standish interrupted. 

“The dead guy from the train?”  

“Yes.” 

“Never seen ‘im b’fore.”  Could have been the engineer from the caboose…but who was to say?  And was Standish going to continue this conversation without facing him?  “You?” 

“I do not believe so.  What do you infer his purpose is…or was, in this macabre circumstance?” 

Larabee shook his head.  “I have no idea, Ezra.” 

Standish finally turned, meeting the gunslinger’s eyes for a fraction of a second before dropping them.  “I’ve been giving some serious thought to our…misfortune.” 

“And?” Chris prompted.  He wouldn’t mind hearing a second point of view.   

Standish sighed.  “I’m hesitant to admit, but the answer escapes me.” 

Larabee chuckled softly.  “Ya ain’t alone there.” 

“Mr. Larabee¾” 

“Ezra…I need ta stretch my legs, so why don’t ya sit beside Vin?” 

Ezra glanced at the still form alongside Larabee.  He saw the tracker tense as his name was spoken; the blankets at his side lifted slightly, but when Standish checked Vin’s face his eyes remained closed.  Ezra frowned, wondering if Vin was awake and why he was playing possum.  Tanner’s eyes sprang open, and there was such vehemence in those normally clear blue eyes, that Ezra recoiled under the Texan’s glare.  But nothing prepared him for the sneer of distaste that Vin bestowed on the unsuspecting man in black or the flash of steel that moved upwards.  His eyes widened in alarm.  “Vin! Chris…move!” Ezra shouted as he lunged full length across the room, landing squarely on the tracker and shoving Chris with his elbow. 

“Standish…what the hell?”  But Ezra was clearly preoccupied.  He struggled with Vin and appeared to be allowing Tanner to get the upper hand.  “Standish, get off him!”  Chris roughly pulled the gambler from above, tossing him to the side.  He was stunned when Vin followed the movement slashing at both him and Ezra with a bowie knife.  “Vin?”  What was Tanner doing?  Wasn’t he awake properly? Was he reliving a nightmare?  Talk to him…let Vin hear his voice…  “We ain’t tryin’ ta hurt ya, pard.”   

Vin glared defiantly, ignoring any pain he may be receiving from his broken leg.  His eyes stared fixatedly, his mouth drawn tightly into a thin line.  He returned Larabee’s confused look and smirked.  His fingers moulded intimately around the handle of the knife and his licked his lips in anticipation.   

“Vin,” Chris edged forward, down on his haunches.  “Drop the knife.” 

Tanner glanced at the blade, his eyes flickered briefly, puzzled and he allowed the blade to touch the floor.   

“All right…Vin…it’s gonna be…” 

“Argggg!!!” Tanner screamed, lunging at the gunslinger.   

Chris met the attack head on, gripping the wrist that held the knife and pushing it down.  “Damn it, Tanner,” he groaned, losing his footing and finding himself under the possessed tracker.  Chris couldn’t let go the wrist that wielding the knife, and Tanner was using every last bit of strength he had to inflict an injury.   

Ezra took a flying leap onto the struggling pair, rolling Vin away from Larabee as he did.  The manoeuvre severed Chris’ grip on Vin’s arm and the three lawmen tumbled on the floor.  Vin in the centre flanked by his friends.  Ezra panted, clearly worried by Tanner’s behaviour.  He couldn’t get past the fact that Tanner had been planning on using the blade on Larabee.  They were best friends. “Vin, calm down.” Ezra got his feet under him, but remained in a crouch.   

Vin glared in Larabee’s direction, swallowing convulsively.  He snarled a guttural noise in his throat, his fingers inching toward the lost weapon. 

Standish saw the furtive glance Vin was giving the misplaced knife.  It had fallen closer to Vin than either of them, but it was definitely on Ezra’s side.  There was no way Larabee would have a chance of getting it. 

“Back up, Ezra,” Chris ordered.  He could see the cogs churning in the Southerner’s mind, even as Vin stretched toward the bowie knife.  Vin would have the blade before Standish made the move…they needed another way to disarm Tanner…permanently. 

“I could¾” 

“I said, ta back away!” 

Vin picked up the weapon as Larabee had suspected he would…and Chris braced for the renewed attack.  A bullet would stop Tanner short, but he baulked at such a measure. 

“Fine,” Ezra grudgingly obeyed.  Tanner had already reclaimed the knife… He presumed Vin would resume his attack on Larabee and was totally taken off guard well Vin threw his injured body around and plunged the knife into him.  “Ah …arggg!”  

“Tanner?” Chris stood dumbfounded while Vin surged off his floor and attacked Ezra.  He saw the blade cut through the gambler’s coat and was shocked to see Vin draw back for a second swing.  Enough was enough! And this had gone too far!  “Sorry ‘bout this¾” Larabee cold-cocked Vin with the butt of his gun and he collapsed onto Standish.   

Part 25 

“Is that too tight?” 

“It’s fine,” Ezra agreed eyeing the bandage Larabee had wrapped around his arm. 

“We could cut up one of the blankets and make ya a sling.” 

Ezra pulled on his coat.  “It is only a minor laceration…I certainly don’t require a sling.” 

Chris picked up the blood-soaked shirtsleeve and tossed it into the fire.  “Bet Nathan would disagree.” 

“He’s not here.” 

“Hmmmm…why’d ya jump, Vin?” 

Ezra threw his head back against the wall.  His arm was already throbbing.  Another ache alongside his shoulder.  He supposed it was a blessing that both injuries had occurred to his left arm.   “Ah…Vin was…um…I thought he¾” 

“¾Was gonna attack me?” Larabee finished, and stared at the gambler incredulously.  Why couldn’t he just come out and say it?  Tanner was aiming for him.  Them both. 

“Yes,” Standish sighed, his shoulders slumping.  “I could have been mistaken though…and will attempt to make amends with Vin when he awakens.”  There was the possibility that Vin was dreaming and wouldn’t recall his actions.   

Chris continued to look steadily at the gambler.  He hadn’t seen what Standish had seen, not initially in any case. And he hadn’t seen the knife in Tanner’s hand until it was too late, but he hadn’t expected Vin to use it against them either.  He trusted Vin…with his life.  What had prompted the Texan to attack them?  It bothered him immensely.  If one good thing came out of this was that the gambler had surprised him. Maybe he could trust Standish.  “Ya did good, Ezra.  Least ya don’t have ta explain why he was pistol whipped,” he grinned wryly.   

“Ah…should we remove Vin’s weapons…for safe keeping?” 

Larabee cocked his head to the side and smiled.  “Reckon, we’ll do just that, ‘til Tanner’s actin’ normal.” 

“Did you notice Mr. Tanner’s apparent ignorance of his limb?  And his eyes?”  Not to mention the abnormal amount of strength.  Where did that come from?   

“Caught up in his dreams…?” 

“But he has a broken leg!”  How does one just forget that? 

“Dunno.”  It was all too strange to consider.  Now what?  “Ya hear that?” 

Part 26 

Standish glanced at the door and unhooked his gun.  Something was scratching at the doorway.  “It sounds suspiciously like… a dog?” 

“Or a…WOLF!” Larabee shouted, firing at the furry beast that jumped up to the window.  It scrambled for a foothold, clawing at the sill, but all life drained quickly from the animal and it sank to the ground.  “Sounds like he brought his pack.”   

Ezra approached the opening. 

“Don’t get too close!  They ain’t afraid.”  Which in itself was odd.  He’d never seen a wolf bold enough to enter a building. 

“Why are they howling like that?” Ezra pressed a hand over an ear and bent the other down on his shoulder.  “Please don’t tell me they’re mourning.” 

Larabee snorted.  Only Standish would come up with that.  Or JD, perhaps.  “Reckon he was the alpha.”  He spent several shots from the opposite window hoping to break up the pack.  He heard Standish fire blindly into darkness also.  “Save yer bullets.”  We might need them later.  Chris turned to face the inner room.  “Ezra!” he screamed as the Southerner fell to the floor.  Distracted by the gambler’s plight, Chris stepped in front of the opening.  He felt the searing pain as a projectile skimmed through his hair, simultaneous with the report of a rifle.  Damn! 

Chris crumpled to the floor; his peacemaker still gripped in his hand.  His eyes fluttered as he fought the call to surrender his body to oblivion.  “Vin?” the question died on his lips as he lost the battle. 

Vin dropped the slender log to the ground, and stepped over the unconscious gambler.  His eyes glazed over and unfocused, he limped outside, not giving either of his friends a parting glance.  His broken leg only a slight hindrance as he walked out into the night. 

Part 27 

Chris moaned.  “Shit!”  He pushed himself to a sitting position, his head rolled and a wave of vertigo took over his senses.  He rubbed at a knot on his head and his hand came away sticky with blood.  “Fuck!” He’d been lucky, the bullet had only creased his skull, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. Larabee looked around the room, fearing the worst. And he wasn’t far off with that assessment. The door was standing open, Tanner was absent, Ezra was unconscious and he boasted a new part and a bitch of a headache.   

“Standish?”  He found it easier to crawl to the Southerner.  “Ezra?  No time f’r nappin’.”  He rolled the Southerner over onto his back, and peeled back an eyelid.  Damn!  “Gonna have ta leave ya for a bit, while I find Tanner,” he mumbled to the unconscious gambler.  “Don’t go anywhere, ya hear?” 

Chris crawled to his feet, staggering as he did so.  How long had he been out? Where had Tanner gone?  “Vin?”  How far had he gone?  And what the hell had happened to Vin?  Did he have amnesia?  Or was he caught up in a nightmare?  Chris carefully pulled a burning log from the hearth. He needed light if he was chasing Vin outside.  “Tanner?”  Larabee leaned on the doorjamb, scanning the yard for his missing friend.  He cast a look at the heavens and a tremor fanned out along his spine.  It was a full moon.  The wolves were gone, but he could still hear them howling.  They hadn’t gone too far.  He glanced at a spot below the window expecting to see the body of the dead wolf he’d shot, but the animal was gone.  He bit his lip and swung the burning timber in a wide arch, following the cries of the wolves. 

His muscles tensed, tightening with each step he stole further away from their sanctuary.  It couldn’t be helped.  He was not going to leave Tanner out in the open by himself.  Vin had to be out of his mind, confused or concussed; it was the only explanation Chris could come up with as to why he had attacked Standish and then gone off on his own.  The wind swirled about his feet, and bit through his jacket, the chill in the air had dropped beyond all predictions.  The cold seeped through his clothes, and sucked away his strength.  Or perhaps this sensation could be attributed to his injury.  “Vin?” 

Larabee glanced over his shoulder; the shack had been swallowed up by distance and the night.  He came to a standstill, frozen with his foot paused in space.  The shadows shifted with the swirling breeze, images blurred, changing too quickly.  He took his next step and waited.  He could feel a presence behind him and it was these instincts that had saved him many times in the past, but usually he could see the threat.  “Show yerself!”  Chris walked backwards for several steps, straining into the edges of his vision hoping to catch a glimpse of…something. Of anything? His boot heel collected in a slight hollow, unbalancing the gunslinger and causing him to fall.  “Shit!”   

The second his backside touched the ground, Larabee rolled to his knees.  He swallowed back the start that choked in his throat, coming eye level with a grey wolf.  The burning log he’d been using as a torch was lying off to the side, he glanced momentarily at it.  The timber wolf growled.  Its teeth were all Chris could focus on as it boldly closed the distance between them.  His fingers twitched, hovering over the handle of his Colt. The second he moved to empty the holster, he was guaranteed the animal would attack; it would be a close contest.  His arm moved on its own volition, and he thumbed the hammer back, shooting the wolf as it launched at him.  It landed in front of him, panting and whimpering.  The dog would die before long. Chris slowly backed away.   

His arms and legs wobbled, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears.  He picked up the log and it weighed strangely heavy in his hands.  “Vin?” his voice cracked, sounding pathetically weak.  He tried again, summoning his strength.  Chris wondered once again how Vin had managed to walk so far on his broken leg.  “Vin…Tanner?”  And there he was.  “Hell!”  Larabee resisted the urge to run to his friend; instead he crept up behind the tracker, keeping Vin between him and the group of wolves that panned out in front of Vin.  The wolves kept their distance, showing their teeth and growling.  His nerves were still frayed from his encounter with the beast; he had been lucky to escape.  How was he going to protect Tanner and himself when this time there were four or five wolves?  “Pard, this ain’t no time ta be gettin’ in touch with nature.” 

Tanner turned slightly, confused.  He heard the tingling of bells and it seemed to bring him out of his trance.  “What’s… goin’ on?” he slurred.  His eyes widened slightly taking in the presence of the wolves.  He instinctively fumbled at his side for his sawn-off Winchester, but the weapon was missing.  “Larabee?” 

A mournful cry filled the night air and the wolves lifted their heads in unison, turning and listening to the sound.  Chris shivered, disturbed by the wretched wail.  He reached out and captured Vin by the elbow, using the burning log to ward off the wolves and curiously they disappeared into the darkness without attacking.  Had something called them back? Was that their signal?  Larabee wasn’t about to question his good luck.  “Need ta get ya back inside.”  They’d been gone for far too long. 

Vin lurched, the pain in his leg reaching his numbed senses.  “No.” 

“I don’t like that place any better’n you, but it’s gotta be safer than out here.” 

“He wants us…” Vin groaned, unable to manage the growing fire from his leg and collapsed. 

Chris moaned, lifting Vin up over his shoulder and returned to the shack.   He practically ran, fearing any minute that the wolves would return.  But the shadows and eerie fog that had closed in around them had him more on edge.  “This is gettin’ too weird.” 

Part 28 

Chris gasped, dropping Vin gently to the ground.  “What in the hell’s been going on?”  He grabbed his Colt, inspecting the single room in wide-eyed shock.  The shadows in the shack danced along the walls with an eerie essence.  Flames flickered to life from several candles, that weren’t here a few minutes before.  And Standish was in the midst of them all.  The door slammed behind him and Larabee jumped, cursing his inattention.  A draft whistled through the windows and the flames wobbled and twisted, strengthening instead of faltering. 

Chris stepped uncertainly toward the gambler.  He swallowed around a hard lump. Standish had been moved while he had been rescuing Vin, his body dragged clear to the centre of the room.  A circle was drawn in the dirt under the Southerner and a five-pointed star drawn inside the ring.  A candle had been placed at each point of the star.  Larabee bent awkwardly, crouching, fearing he’d find the gambler dead.  He reached out, his hand trembling, and lightly touched Ezra; his skin was cold and clammy, but his chest rose up and down.    “Ezra?”   

The door banged again and Chris dropped forward onto his hands.  Hell his nerves were shot! He sucked in a breath and spun about, drawing his Colt and aiming it at the swinging door, his heartbeat galloping wildly.  Nothing was there. He lowered his gun. He’d thought the door had latched when it first slammed, but that was obviously not the case.  A gust sucked the door outwards again preparing to careen inwards with another mighty thump; Chris jumped up caught the door mid-swing and bolted it himself this time, double-checking that it was secured.   

Chris scuffed through the symbol on the floor, and in his haste knocked over one of the candles.  He wanted to stamp them into the ground, or throw them into the fire, but the extra light inside the shack was welcome.  “Ezra, pard.  I’m gonna move ya a little.” 

Standish groaned, raising his hand to his head and slumping back against Larabee’s chest as he was sat forward and dragged clear of the circle.   

Chris kicked up the dirt and wiped away the remaining image.  Why was this bastard playing with them?  He’d had each of them alone and vulnerable.  What was he planning?  And what could they do to stop him…it?  They were all safe again…for the moment.  He sank to the floor and squeezed his eyes closed.  His head was aching, his stomach churning.  

“Chris?” 

Larabee opened his eyes, sighing.  “Ezra?”  

He asked in such a way that instantly raised awareness in the gambler.  Ezra looked past Chris and across to Tanner, unconscious on the floor.   He sat up quickly, peering out through the darkened window.  “The wolves?”  He listened intently, but the howling had stopped. 

Larabee shrugged.  “They’re gone.”  At least for the time being.  He winced. 

“You’re injured.”   

Chris touched his head wound; the blood was sticky, but it had stopped bleeding.  “It’s nothing.” 

Standish didn’t believe him for a minute.  He rubbed the nap of his neck and made a face. Why did his head hurt?  He noticed the candles for the first time; it wasn’t as gloomy inside the room.  “Is Vin…?” 

“He’s no worse.” 

Standish bit his lip, knowing something of importance had occurred.  “How did we acquire the candles?” 

Chris sat back against the wall, closing his eyes and sighing.  There was grit in his eyes and they burned now, insistently beckoning sleep.  He wouldn’t be at all surprised if they were bloodshot.  It had been a long night, and it was yet to finish.  “When I brought Vin back inside…they were…” he gestured with his hands, “all around you.” 

Standish started, rubbing at his arm that was bandaged beneath his jacket.  His eyes widened.  It took him a few moments before he could bring his panic under control and could speak normally.  Almost normal.  “Could you be more explicit?” 

“There was a symbol scratched out in the ground, the candles were at certain points and you were laying in the middle.” 

Standish shivered, glancing at the symbol that was still recognisable; he could still make out the markings even though Larabee had scuffed them out.  A pentagram.  “Ah,” he muttered, finding it difficult to tear his eyes from the demonic pattern.  He saw Chris watching him with a degree of concern, and knew he was showing far more emotion than was wise.  He turned inside himself, took a calming breath, and cleared his expressions.  Time for some deflection.  “Why was Vin venturing outside?” 

Larabee arched his eyebrows.  He’d watched the change come over the Southerner, but still he’d been dead certain Ezra would want to know more about the symbol.  He wanted to know more himself.  “I’ve seen the symbol before…” 

Standish glanced down at the floor and gulped in a quick breath and expelled it slowly.  “How did Mr. Tanner manage to¾?” 

“What is it with you?” Larabee shouted, jumping to his feet in frustration.  “Ain’t ya the slightest bit curious as to where I’ve seen it b’fore?”  Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “I saw it about a week ago…it was only small compared ta this one, but it was painted in blood and it was in Chaucer’s stall.” 

Standish stared at the gunslinger as though he was talking a different language.  Ezra had been unnerved at discovering that symbol and had gone to great pains to remove it without, he’d thought, raising any suspicions. When had Larabee seen it?  “I…ah…Um…” 

Chris snorted.  He’d followed Standish into the livery, his intent forgotten when he heard the gambler gasp and begin muttering and cussing.  He’d thought at the time the Southerner’s horse had been injured or ill, but the more Standish carried on he decided it was something else.  When Ezra had bolted from the stall, Chris had hid in the shadows, coming out while Standish collected a bucket and scrubbing brush to remove the image. It had meant nothing to Chris, but Standish’s reaction had made him suspicious.  Josiah was the person who eventually told him the truth behind the symbol. 

“I didn’t put it there.”   He stood up and wandered over to the churned up floor.  “I do not, nor have I ever participated in demonic worship or sacrifice.”   

“Ezra…I never reckoned ya did. Few weeks back there was a dead calf out at my place. It was butchered up awful bad.  Thought it was just kids…didn’t put two and two t’gether ‘til after I talked ta Josiah.” 

Standish stared openly at the gunslinger.  “Are you suggesting you’re being… stalked?” 

“Me, you…and probably Vin…though he ain’t admitted it.  It was why I needed ta come with ya’ll.” 

Standish broke into a weak smile.   “You orchestrated this?” he asked incredulously, though he’d had his suspicions.  But to hear Larabee admit it…well…that had Ezra astounded. 

Larabee waved it aside.  “Ya offered me the ticket, Standish.” 

“True.” Ezra licked his lips.  “At Mr. Tanner’s insistence.” 

Chris shrugged it off.  So what if he asked Vin to suggest to Ezra that he was invited along.  It had been no guarantee that Standish would do so.   

“And Travis’ niece?” Was that part of Larabee’s quest to gain the ticket…had he stooped so low? Buck’s accident was surely just that…Chris would never do anything to endanger him, but had Larabee urged JD to stay behind? 

Larabee had the good grace to flush with embarrassment.  “May have mentioned JD being available to him…but she’d hardly take up any of his time…she’s only a kid herself… ten or eleven… and she was goin’ ta be stayin’ with Mary.” 

 “I see.  And Josiah’s urgent call to visit with his sister…?”   

The gunslinger was thinking on the same lines as the Southerner, and he didn’t appreciate where Ezra was going.  “I had nothin’ ta do with that message…as far as I know it was genuine…” 

Ezra’s eyes flicked up…why hadn’t he seen it before?  “Buck’s cinch broke.”  It wasn’t a hard jump to make from there that JD would remain by his side.  Wilmington could have easily been hurt worse.  And Josiah’s message was probably just as false as his was from Maude. 

“I hope you ain’t suggestin’ I fixed Buck’s cinch,” Larabee growled. 

Ezra blinked.  “I’m saying that you, Vin and I were the ones… he chose to make this trip into hell.”  If only he’d seen the con before they’d left Four Corners.  But he’d been so caught up in wanting to believe the offer was genuinely from his mother.  He should have seen through the ruse!  How had he not? 

Part 29 

Vin Tanner bit back a groan, blinking through the tears that blinded him.  He was cold and uncomfortable, his leg was aching like a bitch, his head was pounding and his tongue was thick and full in his mouth.   

Larabee heard the slight movement and lifted his head off his knees.  He waited a minute, wondering how Tanner was going to react this time round.  “Mornin’.”  Technically it was morning, even though it was hours from dawn. 

“Hey.  Don’t s’pose ya got another blanket?” 

Chris glanced at Ezra.  He’d dropped their other blanket over the gambler when he’d succumbed. “Ya can use my jacket.”   

Vin sat up awkwardly, the blanket falling to his waist and frowned.  Why was Larabee sitting on the opposite side of the room? And why was Chris giving him such a wary regard? Like he was edgy about coming too close. There was that look again.  Like he was willing the gambler to wake up…or…  “He sleepin’?” 

There was a pause before Larabee spoke.  “Took a blow to the head, he ain’t feeling too perky.” 

Vin noted the pause.  “He gonna be okay?” 

Chris nodded, wondering why Vin didn’t remember causing Standish’s injury.  “How’s the leg?” 

Vin looked down at the splinted limb.  “Hurts like a bitch,” he grimaced.  “Ezra ain’t gonna be up ta carryin’ me t’morro’.” 

Chris had already thought the same thing.  Hell, the way his head was reeling at the moment he doubted if he was going to be of much use either.  Hell, they needed to survive the night first.  “We’ll work somethin’ out.  Vin…do ya remember goin’ outside?” 

“Walkin’?” Vin snorted.  “I’ve got a busted leg, Larabee.  Ain’t no way I can walk on it.” 

“Fact is…ya did.  Right after ya clipped Ezra and knocked him out.” 

“Now I know yer bullshitting.  I wouldn’t do that!”  Vin lifted the blanket up, glancing at the empty place where his mare’s leg should be.  He frowned, recalling that it had been empty when he was facing down a pack of wolves.  Wolves?  Now he knew he must have been dreaming…there was no way he’d been outside, facing down wolves.  But Larabee had just said he’d been walking around outside.  Had he really attacked the gambler?  If he did, he had no recollection of that.  He looked up, meeting Larabee’s eyes, and wincing as he noticed the bloody gash in Chris’ hairline.  Oh God!  “D…did I… do that?” 

“Nah…this was my own stupid fault.” 

“But I hit Ezra?”  He glanced at the gambler’s unmoving form.  “That why ya took m’ gun?” 

“Yeah…” Chris was slow to answer.  They’d been removed earlier in the night, but that seemed neither here nor there. 

And Tanner picked up on this quickly.  “What else d’I do?” 

“Weren’t yer fault…ya were havin’ bad dreams¾” 

“J’st tell me, Chris!” 

“Ya tried ta attack me with yer knife.  Standish stopped ya in time…so there’s nothin’ to worry over.”  Vin didn’t need to know he’d cut Ezra in the clash.   

“Geez…I’m so damn sorry…” Knocked Ezra out and attacked Larabee with my knife…it couldn’t be true, but why would Chris lie about that?  And how did he walk on a busted leg? 

“Vin, it’s alright, it’s…” 

“What the hell’s goin’ on here, Chris?  I coulda killed ya…” 

“It’s forgotten…” 

“How can ya say that?  I coulda kill…Oh my, God!” 

“Ya weren’t yerself.  It’s like ya weren’t there.  Ya seemed ta be in a trance.  Do ya remember anything?” 

Tanner shrugged, frowning at the task Chris had set him.  Did he mention the wolves? “Nope.  Somethin’s been goin’ on.  What else?  What aren’t ya tellin’ me?” 

“Nothin’ ya need worry over.” 

“Chris…” 

“Ya best get some more sleep.”  Chris turned away, not wanting to continue with Vin’s line of questioning.  Hell, he didn’t have the right answers himself. 

“Yeah, reckon I will.”  Vin agreed, knowing he’d get no more answers out of Larabee.  He’d work on Standish later; maybe he could make some sense of this then.  And he didn’t know how he’d managed to keep falling asleep so easily as it was…he sure as hell wasn’t tired…well his leg was screaming like a banshee, but that shouldn’t be putting him off to sleep like a baby.  It wasn’t like he had a head injury…although there was a lump back there… 

Part 30 

Larabee stared intently at the eastern wall.  He’d inspected every inch of their domain over the past hour and kept coming back to the same spot.  He stood, walking over to the wall. 

“Mr. Larabee?” 

Chris glanced over his shoulder.  “Good ta see ya awake, Ezra.” 

“Ah ha.”   

“Ya see anything odd?” 

Ezra joined Larabee at the only complete wall of the building.  He raised his brows incredulously.  “You mean other than the maniac outside stalking us or the bizarre behaviour of Mr. Tanner,” he glanced thoughtfully at the slumbering tracker, “or the train derailing or the¾” 

Chris chuckled, and it felt good to release some of the pent up energy.  “Was only referrin’ to this wall, actually.”   

Ezra ran his fingers through his hair, wincing as they came into contact with the lump. He sighed and gave the wall due consideration.  “I have never claimed to be a carpenter…but these planks ending at the same level…is that what you’re referring to?” 

“Yeah.”  Chris picked at the groove with his knife, running it along the crack.  “Reckon it’s a door.” 

Standish rolled his eyes.  “Just what we need, another exit from this shambles.” 

“I figured it might be,” he grunted, prying the panel inwards, “…a hidden room.” 

“So the previous owners had a storage area,” Ezra yawned in disinterest and returned to his place on the floor. 

“Figured ya’d at least be interested.”  Chris dug his fingers around the edge of the newly exposed door, it was difficult to open and he kicked at the build-up of dirt on the floor that held it in place.  A musty scent invaded the shack. And another smell that was not at all pleasant.  He put his weight behind the door and wrenched it open.  “Shit!”  Chris stumbled back, tripping and landing on his backside.  His Colt flew to his hand and he fired off three shots.  He turned a menacing scowl on the gambler laughing behind him.  “Shut-up, Standish!” 

“I do believe, that rodent has perished,” Ezra drawled, his accent thicker than usual.   

Larabee smirked sheepishly and gingerly picked up the dead rat by the tail and tossed it out the window.  “Goddamn, vermin!” 

Ezra stifled his laugh, bringing a candle to the newly unsealed room.  “Perhaps an inspection might be warranted seeing as you’ve disrupted the occupants.” 

Chris glared at the Southerner.  “Yer a real comedian…you first.” 

“No, no…this is your discovery…I’d hate to deprive you of the satisfaction.” 

“Harrumph.”  Larabee took the candle from the gambler, and allowed the meagre glow to enlighten the confined space.  The flickering light spread along the rear wall, shadows reaching out with elongated fingers and touching on each corner.  The light revealed several canisters with elaborate markings assembled on a narrow shelf and a curtain drawn closed at one end of the hidden room.  There wasn’t enough room for the gunslinger to go further than a foot inside, but his curiosity was raised, against his better judgement. 

Ezra’s skin crawled.  He stared transfixed by the canisters, wondering about them and not paying attention as Larabee reached for the curtain.  “Oh, Lord,” he gasped, recalling the significance of the jars, but it was a moment too late, already hearing Larabee’s exclamation. 

“Shit!”  Chris dropped the dusty cloth, and backed up right into and onto the gambler.   

Ezra steadied the gunslinger, his hands at Larabee’s back.  “We seem… to have disturbed a burial chamber.”  The wind outside the shack whistled ominously at that moment, moaning and wailing; giving the impression of lost souls crying out.  

“What is… that?”   

Standish glanced behind, feeling trails of icy tentacles crawling down his spine he trembled.  Ezra almost feared finding something there.  But there was nothing to see.  He reflexively pushed the gunslinger forward a step.  Standish didn’t know whether to follow Chris inside the hidden room or remain in the outer room.  He couldn’t decide where he would be safer.   Neither, his mind screamed.  And the sooner it was closed up again, the better. 

“Standish…?” 

Ezra met a pair of hazel eyes.  He shook his head to clear it.  “I believe this…fellow has been…embalmed.”   

“What?” 

“As in Egyptians…Mummies?  But in this instance the wrapping used in the process have been… removed,” Ezra grimaced.  The grotesque facial features of the corpse were horrifying.   He pointed past Chris’ shoulder.  “The body is dried out with salts, all moisture is removed from the body.  Quite barbaric really,” Ezra commented.  “Those jars, more than likely contain his,” Ezra nodded at the body, “…internal organs.  But I understand the heart remains with the body.  It was a ritual the Egyptians performed to promote rebirth into the afterlife.  Many doctors performed it during the war so the dead could be returned home for proper burial.”   

“So he wants to live forever…” Chris grunted and held the candle higher.  He’d seen enough.  Far too much!  He looked at the corpse and grimaced; the haunted expression would leave behind an unforgettable impression.  His stomach rolled, and he bit back a curse, kicking out his boots and lowering the candlelight to the sandy floor.  “Goddamn, rats!” he exploded, jumping to avoid having the rodents crawl up his legs. 

“I suggest we reseal this room,” Standish pressed.  He was anxious to leave the shack altogether after discovering the tomb. 

Larabee met his gaze and nodded, but not before the building creaked on its foundations.  He braced himself on either side of the wall.  “Wha…What?”  What was happening?  

The shack shuddered again; the walls trembled under the strain.  A bolt struck the wall from outside and the petrified corpse was catapulted at the gunman.  Larabee gasped, catching the remains automatically, his fingers breaking though the fragile shell and disappearing inside the corpse.  “Goddamn it!” he yelled, dropping the body with a violent shudder.  His breathing lurched and his heartbeat sped up, but his feet became lead weights.   

“Chris, get out of there!” 

He heard Standish shouting, even grab at him, but his feet began sinking into the sandy depths.  “Ezra?”  Chris attempted to lift his boots out, but they quickly disappeared into the floor.  His balance vanished and he fell.  The sand parted, dragged him deeper into the abyss.  The next time he called the gambler’s name there was a note of terror in his voice. “Ezra!” 

“Chris?”  Ezra instinctively grabbed for Larabee’s outstretched hands.  He was shocked to see Chris being bodily pulled into the earth.  “Hold on!”   

“Ezra…” Chris cried out, rolling on his stomach to get a hold.  The doorframe was out of reach.  How had that happened?  He glanced over his shoulder and panicked seeing that both his legs were gone beneath the surface.  “Don’t let go!”   

Ezra was sweating, the strain in his arms and legs was excruciating and his left shoulder burned more than he could imagine.  He braced his feet on either side of the door, and reached for the flailing hands.  Larabee clasped onto him, fingers digging into flesh.  Whatever had hold of the gunslinger had a relentless grip.  It dragged Chris deeper into the soft earth.  “Hang, on,” he gasped, as much to Chris as to himself.   

“Hurts…” he grimaced.  Talk about the proverbial tug-of-war.  He looked back, wincing as his hips joined his legs beneath the surface. 

“Don’t look back,” Standish ordered.  He felt himself being pulled inside the room.  Larabee’s hands were slippery and he was loosing his grip.  He could see the fear on Larabee’s face and he dreaded watching such expressions on the normally composed gunslinger.  He didn’t want to fail Chris.  Not now.  Not again. 

“Can’t… hang on… any longer,” he huffed 

“Damn, you.  You will!” Ezra demanded, pinching his fingers around Chris’s wrists tighter.  “Larabee, don’t you dare give in!” 

Chris looked into the gambler’s eyes, saw the determination there, but knew in the end it wouldn’t be enough.  He knew Standish would fight to the end, and be dragged down with him too.  He wouldn’t allow that to happen.  “Thanks, Ezra.  Look after Vin,” he managed in an almost calm voice.  Once the words left his mouth, Chris let go, the gambler’s hold only lasted a fraction longer before breaking.  When the connection was finally broken Larabee was swallowed down. 

Standish fell backwards, stunned.  “CHRISSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!”