Just Plain Stupid
by JIN
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Part 1: Dumb and Dumber
It was stupid. There was no other word for it. The whole thing was just - stupid.
He had woken up in a bad mood, and the day had just gotten worse as it went along. Chris Larabee sat solemn and alone, nursing another drink that would undoubtedly lead to another bad night and another bad morning and another bad day. The sun had set hours before, but the saloon remained uncomfortably warm, and he was sweltering. August was his least favorite month of the year for just this reason. He hated the heat. Hell, Vin had even taken off that ridiculous coat of his. It annoyed him that Tanner always wore that coat. It annoyed him even more that Tanner had taken off like he had. It was just - stupid.
He knew it was own fault that he'd woken up the way he had. Yesterday, a new family arrived in town. Every once in awhile, all that he had lost when his family died, crept up on him and punched him in the gut. Probably the best thing would have been to go on back to his cabin and stew for a spell, but he'd never been particularly reasonable when it came to dealing with his grief. The tavern was close by, and offered some semblance of relief, and so he'd spent his evening there.
The lean gunman had tossed and turned all night, dreams and nightmares and visions of his lost wife and son plaguing him. When morning dawned, he awoke tired and cross. His head pounded, his stomach churned, and it was already too damn hot. Nearly everyone read his mood on sight, and wisely left him alone. By afternoon, he'd felt some better though, and had headed over to the jail to see what Buck and JD were up to.
Larabee didn't normally eavesdrop on other's conversations, but he'd slipped in unnoticed while the two men discussed something of apparent importance, at least to JD.
"I just don't get it, Buck? How could Vin not know how to read? And why would he keep it from us?"
"Lot of men can't read, JD. We don't all get the same chances in this life, you know that. Hard to say what happened to Vin after his ma died, but I'm guessin' he didn't have an easy time of it. And he's a proud man, this ain't somethin' he'd want us all talkin' about."
"Yeah, but we're his friends. Don't make a difference to us," JD reasoned.
Before Buck could answer, Chris moved in from the doorway. The black cloud had descended upon him again. Vin couldn't read? That was a little thing he might like to know about the man he considered second in command. He couldn't decided what bothered him more - that he hadn't figured it out himself, or that Vin had not told him. Or maybe it was that JD knew and he didn't. Just how did JD know? He had asked the kid that very question.
JD swallowed, obviously feeling bad about revealing Vin's secret. "Last week, you left him a note. He asked me to read it for him. He was worried that it was important, and he said he couldn't make out all the words." Chris's handwriting was real clear, and that was when JD knew that the tracker just plain couldn't read.
Larabee remembered the occasion well. Judge Travis had become ill and Mary had asked him to take her to him. Vin and JD were out on patrol, Nathan and Josiah were at the reservation, Ezra was still asleep, and Buck was nowhere to be found. So he'd left a note for Tanner on his wagon.
Did it make a difference, this new information he'd learned about his friend? Apparently so, for he found himself inexplicably angry. Vin should have said something. He thought they were pards, after all. Buck must have read his emotions, because he had quickly interjected a few thoughts of his own.
"Now look, Chris, this ain't our business. If Vin wants us to know, he'll tell us."
"Tell you what?"
They were in deep then. The sharpshooter had quietly stepped in and was looking at them all questioningly.
Larabee took another swallow of his whiskey as he thought back on what had happened after that. He should have stayed quiet, but no, he was in a bad mood, so he carelessly and stupidly forged on ahead.
"Tell us that you can't read."
Vin's eyes always told the story, and this was no exception. Hurt, anger, embarrassment, they were all there. Tanner looked away for a moment, before returning his gaze to the gunman.
"Does it matter?" He'd asked in that quiet, simple way of his that normally sat well with Larabee, but for some reason, on this day, grated against his nerves.
"It could matter, Vin. What if that note I left for you last week had been urgent? What if JD hadn't been there to read it for you?"
Now Vin turned his hurt expression to the kid, who shifted uncomfortably and more than likely wished a hole would come along and swallow him up.
"Y' think I'm too dumb or too proud t' just ignore a note 'cause I can't read it? Y' think I'd ever let my . . . problem cause trouble for any of y'all?" Tanner argued.
"Apparently you're too dumb or too proud to trust me with this. How do I know what you would or wouldn't do?" Chris shot back.
Vin turned a wounded look to the gunman before answering coldly, "Guess you don't know me at all, Larabee."
"Guess not, Tanner," Chris responded with equal coolness.
And that was when the tracker walked out. He'd said maybe two whole sentences, which was more than he said some days, but the point was that he'd just walked out. Chris wasn't through yet. He wanted to understand why Vin felt compelled to hide this from him. He wanted to understand why his family had been taken from him. He wanted to understand why it was so damn hot.
He took another drink, ignoring the concerned glances of the other men from across the room.
He wanted to understand why everything felt so wrong on this god-awful, stupid day.
+ + + + + + +
Well, that was a dumb thing to do. Just walk out - like a little kid. A little, dumb kid.
Vin untied his bed roll and spread it out on the ground. He'd found a nice, quiet spot to stretch out for the night. He needed to be under the stars and away from the prying eyes of his friends right now. He had all sorts of ideas about what they were saying and thinking about him. Probably none of them were true, but he tortured himself anyway.
Walking into the jail and hearing them talking had brought back bad memories. He always seemed to come in at just the right time - or maybe the wrong time - to hear folks talking about him. They'd said he couldn't learn, that he'd never be able to read or write. Yes, he'd had a hard time growing up, but there were some good people who tried to teach him early on. He just never got the hang of it, and at the time, he didn't care much.
He cared now. He'd been kind of excited when Mary agreed to help him learn. He'd even thought about letting the boys in on it. But then, the same old problems came up. He kept turning letters around and twisting things and making them backwards. He was afraid Mary would soon give up on him. He was afraid he'd soon give up on himself. He felt like that dumb, little kid again.
So he'd said nothing, and apparently that was a mistake, at least in Larabee's eyes.
Just who the hell did Chris Larabee think he was anyway? And just why the hell was he so mad? It's not like he deliberately kept secrets from him. He'd told him the most important thing - that he was a wanted man. Just what did Chris want from him?
If he'd been smart, and stayed, he might know that. But he'd been mad and embarrassed and he'd walked away.
Vin lay on his back, his arms raised and his hands folded up underneath his head. It was still hot and muggy, so he had unbuttoned his shirt, although he'd remained fully dressed with his boots in place. It didn't pay to be careless, just because he was upset.
And why was he so upset anyway? Just when had Larabee become so important to him that a few harsh words could make him feel this way? He was just being - dumb. A man had a right to hide his own demons, had a right to keep things to himself. Your friends didn't need to know everything. Larabee didn't need to know everything.
He could hardly wait until morning to tell him so.
+ + + + + + +
Chris woke up the next morning in no better spirits, but the headache was gone, and the air felt a degree cooler. With a deep sigh, he got out of bed and pulled on his black pants and gray shirt. He felt unsettled and restless - that incident with Tanner, he supposed. He'd talk things out with Vin. With a little luck, the tracker would, at that very moment, be sitting on the boardwalk, sipping coffee. The thought did lift his mood somewhat, and he hurried to put on his boots.
He had to admit that he hadn't handled his sensitive friend very well yesterday. He was probably being over-sensitive himself, but he just couldn't believe Vin hadn't trusted him with his secret. Did Tanner really think this would change the gunman's feelings for him? Now that didn't sound right, he didn't have feelings for the man. He liked and respected him, but he could live without him if he had to. There was really no rush to talk with him.
But he hurried on down the stairs anyway, to the spot where Vin usually perched this time of day. He told himself it was not a big deal that the tracker wasn't there. There was plenty of time to straighten out this little problem between them. Still, he felt annoyed and cranky again. Tanner should have trusted him. And he wished he'd get his scrawny butt back to town so he could tell him so.
+ + + + + + +
Vin hadn't slept well, but he was still stunned when he was disturbed from his light slumber by a boot in his ribs. Now how had he managed to let someone get the drop on him? His concentration must really be off - this business with Chris, he supposed. He couldn't believe Larabee didn't trust him, but he'd have to think on that later, as became painfully obvious by a second kick to his rib cage.
Vin rolled over onto his side in an effort to catch his breath, and reached for his gun, grunting when his action was halted by another swift kick. He gathered his wits enough to peer up at his attackers. Two of them. It could be worse, although he didn't take comfort in the gleam in their eyes or the rifles in their hands.
They looked to be about his age, or maybe a few years older, and appeared to have been out on the trail for awhile. If Ezra thought he looked scruffy, he could just imagine what he'd think of the two men towering over him now. Both had full beards and long, dark hair that brushed their shoulders in filthy, matted clumps. Almost made a man want to cut his own hair and shave.
"So Jeb, is he Larabee or not?" The taller of the two spoke impatiently.
"I ain't sure, Roy. I ain't seen 'im for ten years, and I was just a kid then."
Larabee? Things had taken an interesting turn. Vin slowly sat up, raising his hands high so he wouldn't be subjected to another kick for the movement. He could see the wheels turning as the two men peered at him intently.
"I thought Larabee always wore black. And he don't seem old enough t' me," the one named Roy offered.
"Don't nobody wear black in weather like this," Jeb said knowingly.
Vin had to suppress the urge to snort as he pictured his friend in his usual attire. It could be a hundred degrees out, and Chris would still wear black. And the man had the nerve to make remarks about him and his coat.
"I don't know. He sure don't look like no tough gunslinger to me. What makes you think he's him?"
"All I know is that Larabee's the head lawman of that town over yonder, and when I was there last week, this guy took charge. Him and some other fancy gunfighters took care of a whole slew of drunk cowboys. He's gotta be Larabee."
Vin tried not to look too puzzled. How could anyone with any sense mistake him for Larabee? They looked nothing alike, acted nothing alike, thought nothing alike - okay, maybe that last one wasn't quite accurate. But they looked nothing alike - that was sure. And it seemed that last week had come back to haunt him again. Next time he'd be the one to take Mary out of town for a few days.
Of course, it was obvious these guys' excessive hair compensated for a lack of brains. Vin had learned in his time riding with the notorious gunslinger that most of his enemies were either dead, or smart enough not to cross him a second time. These two apparently hadn't learned their lesson. And wouldn't you think they'd just ask him who he was?
Jeb jabbed his rifle into Vin's chest and did just that. "So how about it? You Larabee or not?"
Now that he'd been asked, he found he didn't know how to answer. If he said no, they'd likely put a bullet in him and go searching for the real thing. Maybe he could be the gunslinger for awhile, at least long enough to find out what they had in mind. Then again, that could get him killed, too, but it might keep them away from Chris.
He decided to stall. "Who's askin'?"
Obviously the wrong choice, as evidenced by the whack of the rifle butt as it slammed into his face. Vin pulled himself back up, wiping a hand over the blood that leaked from his split lip. He was getting mad now. He had no intention of getting killed by men this stupid, and certainly not today. He had better things to do, like talking things out with a stubborn gunman - a stubborn gunman who, he reminded himself, was the true object of these men's hostility.
Jeb pushed the gun back into Vin's chest again and growled, "We're askin' the questions here, and yer doin' the tellin'. Are y' Larabee, or ain't y'?"
Vin looked up from where he still sat on the ground, his blue gaze drifting from one man to the other. He tried again, "Seems t' me, I might live longer if I let you boys keep guessin'."
Roy huffed. "You ain't gonna live five minutes if y' don't get smart real quick here and tell us what we want t' know."
Tanner shrugged. "I'm thinkin' if you were so hot t' kill Chris Larabee, you'd a done it by now. Must be some reason y' want 'im alive." He had no idea if that were true, but since no one had put a bullet in him yet, he hoped it was.
"Hell, Jeb, you sure this is all gonna be worth it? Let's just kill 'im now." Roy was already clearly exasperated with the whole situation.
"I'm tellin' y', Roy," Jeb countered, "that town will do anything to keep Larabee. The gambler I saw had a wad a bills t' make yer eyes pop clear outa yer head. There's money there, and they'll use to it get him back. Besides, Pa would want it this way - want us t' have what Larabee cheated 'im out of all those years ago."
"Long as he gets what he deserves," the younger brother sneered.
All right then, they intended to use Chris for ransom - and then kill him. That gave him time.
"Yer wrong - they won't give y'all a dime fer me," Vin stated.
"See!" Jeb exclaimed excitedly, "I told you it was him!"
They'd taken the bait - just as he'd hoped, but instead of figuring out his next move, he found himself wondering if what he said was true. Would they pay to get him back? He'd only recently gotten used to the fact that his friends would turn down five hundred dollars to keep him alive. But would they pay to do the same? Giving out money was a whole lot different than walking away from it. He knew they would do it for Chris, knew that Jeb had at least gotten that part right - but he'd never put himself in the same regard as the gunslinger.
Of course, it was all a mute point anyway. It was only a matter of time before the bandits found out they had the wrong man. His friends in Four Corners wouldn't even know he was involved, would never make the connection that he was the man they held for ransom. He'd have to wait for the opportunity to escape, then high tail it back to town and warn Chris.
"Help me get 'im tied up. Then you head on in t' town and give the note to one of them kids that's always hangin' around," Jeb instructed his younger brother.
"A kid? You sure that's a good idea? What if they lose it? How they gonna know who t' give it to? And how they gonna know we really have 'im?"
Roy was getting more nervous by the minute, and still thought shooting their father's killer would be much easier and simpler. But Jeb took control, as always, nearly losing patience with his brother's apprehension.
"Look, every kid in that town knows Larabee - they'll get it t' the gambler. And they'll know we got him cause he's gonna make his mark here on the note."
Roy continued to look skeptical, while Vin fought the familiar panic that threatened to well up when he was faced with the prospect of having to write. It was ridiculous. He was more afraid of making a few scratches on a piece of paper, than staring down the barrels of two deadly rifles. He'd just refuse, and probably earn himself a cracked rib or jaw.
Jeb pulled the crinkled up note from the pocket of his faded britches and squatted down next to Vin. "Now look here, yer gonna let those nice folks know we got y', and y' ain't gonna give me any trouble - else I just might have t' let Roy grab one of those kids and bring 'im back here t' join us. You got that?"
Vin nodded and swallowed the anger that burned inside him. Threatening him and Chris was one thing - threatening an innocent kid something else entirely. These guys were even stupider than he thought. Unfortunately, he truly had no choice now, and given the fact that he'd only just learned to write his own name, he had no idea how he'd come up with anything approximating Larabee's.
Vin tried to think quickly. If he could somehow write something to satisfy his captors, while at the same time tip off his friends, he might have a shot at getting out of this. He searched the recesses of his brain for all the rules and sounds and clues Mary had taught him so far. He was sure Larabee started with an "L", and sure there was a "B" in it. Maybe he could just put down those two letters, maybe that would be close enough. After all, he doubted Jeb or Roy could spell the gunslinger's name any better than he could.
He tried to hide his shaky hands as he reached for the pencil and paper held out to him. He couldn't make out much of the writing but, strangely enough, the few words he knew by heart were all there: dead, alive, and $500. How ironic - they were asking five hundred dollars to get him back. How did he always manage to get himself in these idiotic situations?
Taking a deep breath, he resumed his focus on the task at hand - drawing a presentable "L". Thank goodness the notorious gunslinger had the good luck to have a name that started with the easiest letter in the alphabet. But a "B" was harder, if only because he could never remember which way it went. Was the straight line on the left or right? Suddenly it occurred to him that if he made it backwards, his friends just might realize it came from him. It was a long shot, but Mary would know for sure. She'd watched him struggle with it time and again. So making the "B" backwards just might be a good idea. Except that he still had no idea which way the darn thing went. Making the letter backwards by accident was easy, now that he intentionally wanted to do it that way . . .
"Hurry up! We ain't got all day!" Roy bellowed impatiently.
Vin took a chance and scrawled his best "B". It was a long shot - that was for sure.
Jeb frowned at the roughly scribed letters. "This the best y' can do?"
"They'll know it's from me. My men know my mark," Vin responded more confidently than he felt.
"Hell, fer a famous gunfighter, y' ain't too smart, are y'?"
Tanner winced at that, but remained silent. Why should he care what these men thought of him? He knew who he was, knew he was smarter than most. It didn't matter if they thought he was dumb. Didn't matter if Larabee thought that, either. He'd have felt better, though, if he'd gotten a chance to tell his friend that. He'd have felt better if he'd gotten a chance to tell his friend a whole lot of things.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra relished the feel of the crisp bills folded and tucked neatly in his boot. He was almost there. Another night like last night, and he'd have enough cash to buy out his mother and resume his rightful position as owner of the Standish Tavern. He grinned broadly as he shuffled his lucky deck and took a sip of his drink. He rarely drank alcohol when he was preparing himself for a big evening, and never this early in the day, but he felt he deserved a small celebration.
The late afternoon sun shown directly through the bat wing doors of the saloon, and he was nearly too blinded by the light to realize, at first, who'd stepped in. Mr. Larabee. Standish shook his head - he'd make a fortune on that man alone when he finally owned the place. Larabee brushed by his table with barely a nod of acknowledgement. Something had been bothering the man for a day or so now, though no one spoke of it. They'd all had their moments when the town, the responsibilities, and the other peacekeepers, had crowded in on them. Leaving the disgruntled teammate alone seemed to be the best solution in such cases. And that was exactly what Ezra intended to do now.
He looked up as another form rushed through the slated doors. Billy Travis ran breathlessly to the gambler's table, halted from crashing into the con man by Ezra's quick reflexes.
"Now hold on here, young man. What matter could be so pressing that you'd feel the need to careen in here like a wild stallion?"
Billy gulped before handing a sorry scrap of paper to the puzzled gambler. He swallowed nervously as he began to excitedly relay his big news in a jumbled rush of words. "They got him! They got Chris! He's gonna . . . they're gonna . . . we gotta get some money real quick. He said . . . said they'd kill 'im! Said to give you this note, Mr. Ezra."
Ezra merely smiled at the shaken boy, and reached up a hand to lay on his shoulder. "Now calm down, son. I assure you that no harm is going to come to Mr. Larabee."
Billy looked at him with brows furrowed. Mr. Ezra was surely not taking this as seriously as he needed to.
Ezra saw the boy's stern expression and continued, "Mr. Larabee will not come to any harm because no one has abducted him, I assure you." Ezra gripped the boy's shoulder a bit tighter and turned him slightly to his left, "For he is sitting right there, as you can plainly see."
Billy mouthed an "Oh!" in surprise, but said nothing for a moment.
Chris, hearing the commotion, made his way over to the table and sat on the other side of the boy. "What's going on, Billy?"
The child looked into the green eyes of the man he worshiped, and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Billy?" Larabee questioned again.
"I was playin' out by the mill, and this man came up to me. He handed me this note, and said to give it to the gambler. Said he had you tied up, and he'd kill you if we didn't do what the note said."
Chris took the paper and read the scrawled contents. The handwriting was poor and the spelling worse, but the intent was obvious. The town's leading lawman was supposedly being held captive, and only $500 would ensure he would be seen alive again. The gambler was to bring the money to the old mine outside of town at daybreak. The blond shook his head. Must be some kind of prank.
"Billy, you and your friends aren't playing some sort of game, are you?" he asked seriously.
"No! I promise, Chris. This big, ugly, hairy man gave it to me. Said it even had yer mark to prove they had you."
Chris looked at the note again. The "LB" scratched in the corner had obviously been written by someone else. Before he could put the pieces together, Mary came in to pull her wayward son home for dinner.
"Wait!" the child objected. "I can't go yet."
Within minutes, Mary was apprised of the strange man and even stranger note. When she saw the initials at the bottom of the page, she blanched.
"Chris," she spoke hesitantly. "I think Vin wrote this," she said as she pointed to the two letters.
"Vin? Why would you think that?"
Mary looked down before continuing. She didn't want to betray the tracker, but she had a gut feeling this was too important. "I've been working with Vin. I've been teaching him to read and write."
Chris looked at her incredulously. What else was going on around here that he had no idea about? "Go on," he demanded.
"Vin tends to turn his letters around, like this "B". I can't be certain, of course, but I think this is his handwriting."
Chris rubbed a hand across his forehead. The headache had returned with a vengeance. It all made no sense. Could someone have grabbed Tanner, believing they'd grabbed him? Why would Vin sign a note with the initials "LB"? Just what the hell had the sharpshooter gotten himself into?
Ezra echoed those very thoughts. "I'm having a difficult time comprehending this entire situation. Are we now considering the possibility that some scoundrels have taken Mr. Tanner, and erroneously believe him to be you, Mr. Larabee?" While he had to admit that the men seemed to be joined at the hip, mentally if not physically, he could not imagine anyone confusing them.
Chris knew by the sick feeling in his stomach that that was exactly what had happened. "Damn," he whispered softly.
Billy looked from one man to the next, and finally up at his mother. "I don't understand, Ma. Are they thinkin' that man has Vin?"
"Yes, Billy," Mary responded sadly.
"But why would he say he has Chris? Why wouldn't Vin just tell him who he is?"
"I don't know, but Chris and Ezra will figure it out." She gave the two men a hopeful smile before ushering a most unwilling young boy out the door. Billy had been a part of this mystery from the first, and he wasn't keen on missing out on the action he was sure would come.
"How do you propose we proceed, Chris?" Ezra asked quietly. He knew that whatever had been bothering their leader likely paled in comparison to the turmoil he was experiencing now.
The blond man shifted his gaze briefly to Standish before staring back down at the table. "Get the others," he muttered hoarsely.
Damn tracker had gotten himself into trouble, he just knew it. No doubt these men, whoever they were, had come looking for him, and Vin had let them believe they'd found Chris Larabee. Tanner was probably trying to buy time. Probably figured he'd take care of matters on his own. It was about time the sharpshooter learned that he didn't have to do that anymore, that he had friends watching his back. This time, it wasn't even Vin's fight - it was his, and he sure as hell didn't need that skinny Texan fighting his battles for him. He'd better get the chance to tell him that. He'd better get the chance to tell him a whole lot of things.
+ + + + + + +
Jeb prodded his unwilling prisoner along the stony path, using the end of his rifle as a constant reminder of who was in control. He loved the long weapon, and never could understand why a man would chose a small handgun when a rifle was so much more useful. He'd been mildly surprised at the gun Larabee carried, figured he'd have something smaller and lighter, but he didn't dwell on it - he was just glad they'd managed to get the weapon away from him and his deadly aim.
The brothers had tied their captive's hands securely behind his back, and roped his feet together, too, leaving just enough leeway for him to walk. Of course, it wasn't easy, climbing uphill the way they were, but when he stumbled and went down a few times, it was just an added bonus, as far as Jeb was concerned. He'd inherited his father's mean streak, and was proud of it. His brother, on the other hand, always opted for the quick and easy way, and didn't seem to take the same satisfaction that he did out of watching his enemies suffer.
He hoped his brother had managed to do his part of the scheme successfully. It wasn't that difficult, but Roy had managed to screw up easier tasks in the past. Of course, Roy couldn't help it that he wasn't as smart as him. Jeb congratulated himself again on coming up with a truly ingenious plan. When they found the old mine, he thought it would just be a good place to hide after they killed Larabee. But then he discovered the tunnel that extended all the way through the mountain and out the other side. That was when the idea of making some money off this deal came to him. Tomorrow morning, after taking the ransom, they'd simply take off through the tunnels to where their horses waited at the opposite end. Even though the note insisted only the gambler come, he was sure the other men would follow, especially after he left a parting shot at Larabee, but it would be easy to pick them off as they made their way into the dark mine shafts. Like shooting fish in a barrel.
Jeb's prisoner had ideas of his own. Vin quickly grew irritated at the constant poking of the rifle barrel against his back. He couldn't very well work on untying his hands with his captor right behind him, and as inept as these men were, he had to admit they tied a good knot. Still, there was only one of them, surely he could make a move and get the hell away. When they came upon the mine entrance, he knew he'd have to do it soon. There was no way he was going in there. Just the thought of being kept in that dark, cramped space caused his heart to practically explode from his chest. No, he was not going in there.
As they climbed the steep incline that lead to the abandoned mine, Vin turned with lightening quick speed. Ramming his entire body into the startled gunman, he knocked him off his feet, the rifle discharging harmlessly before plummeting to the ground. Both men tumbled clumsily down the rocky hill, landing with a thud some forty feet later. Vin was momentarily dazed, but the urgency of the situation forced him to shake off the haze and regain his footing. Doing that proved to be particularly trying, without his hands to help him push up off the ground, but he managed to get to his feet. Cursing the rope that shackled his ankles, he stumbled on towards a stand of trees, hoping to find some cover. Every second counted at this point, and he knew that even if he managed to elude the outlaw, he faced daunting odds without a weapon. He didn't take time to decide if he'd hurt himself, or how his opponent had faired. With a little luck, the man he knew only as 'Jeb' had broken his neck in the fall.
Luck had never been his, however, and now was no different. He became acutely aware of his harsh breathing and the sounds of his boots as he trudged awkwardly along the rocky ground. The sound of the rifle's bark echoed in his ears and head, long before he felt the sting of the bullet creasing his thigh. The ground tilted ever closer as he slowly pitched forward, landing hard on his left shoulder. Still he would not stop, and he rolled to his side in an effort to once again get to his feet. From the corner of his eye, he saw the blur of the brown rifle butt as it approached his head and he tried to duck. His only good fortune was that the intense pain was short-lived as he spiraled into the blackness.
Part 2: Heaven and Earth
Six men sat around the table in quiet discussion, their serious expressions warning away any would be intruders. They had maybe twelve hours until daybreak, less than half of that to pull together a plan. Josiah and Nathan had thrown out a few ideas, while Buck and JD espoused the "lets just ride in and get him" theory.
Chris listened intently, but failed to keep his mind on the conversation around him. He'd stopped questioning Vin's actions or motives, knowing that the tracker would do anything to protect him. He knew, because he would do the same. If some bounty hunters had mistaken him for Vin, he'd go along with it, just to keep them away from his friend. What was it Vin had said? "Guess you don't know me at all"? He knew now that nothing could be further from the truth. He knew him far too well, and he knew that if push came to shove, Vin would go all the way for him – give up his life for him. How could he ever have let something so trivial as Tanner's inability to read come between them?
Buck was speaking more forcefully, "I'm tellin' you, all we gotta do is head on up to that mine now, catch ‘em before they're ready for us. We wait til mornin' and Vin's as good as dead."
"I'm not so sure, Buck. Remember, we have no idea how many men we're up against. If they're held up in that mine, we're going to have one hell of a time getting in without someone getting hurt," Josiah reasoned.
"I agree with Josiah, we need to plan this out real careful," Nathan added.
"What about the ransom? How we gonna come up with five hundred dollars?" JD asked.
No one answered for long moments. Even if they had the money, Chris was sure they'd kill Vin anyway. The twisted irony of it all was that, if they just took their hostage further east, they could turn him in for the same amount of money - and get it legally.
Ezra had remained still, but felt the time had come for him to make his move. Reaching into his boot, he pulled out his cash and casually counted out five hundred dollars. Laying the money on the center of the table, he said nothing.
The other men stared at the gambler in wide-eyed wonder. They knew he'd been doing quite well lately, but none expected him to have that kind of cash on him. And certainly none expected him to offer it up so freely, as was apparent by all of their expressions.
"What?" he asked. Surely they didn't think he would sit by and do nothing when he had the ransom secured in his boot? Honestly, did they really think money mattered more to him than a friend? What had he ever done to give them that impression? He cringed when he thought of the several things he'd done that might lead to precisely that conclusion. Fortunately, he was now in the position to remedy their opinions of him. More importantly, he was in the position to aid in Vin's safe return.
Chris offered a brief smile as he shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, Ezra, but it won't work. They'll never let Vin walk away when this is over."
"Perhaps not, Mr.Larabee, but I, for one, could not rest if I thought we did not do everything within our power to effect Mr. Tanner's release. As has already been noted, we don't know what we're up against, and we'd be wise to consider all options."
Chris thought for several moments before nodding, "All right." With a heavy sigh, he continued, "Reckon we don't have much choice, at least until we see what we're dealing with. I'll take the ransom and make the exchange. You boys stand by and make your move once we have Vin back."
"Don't think that's wise, Chris. You're the one they're after. They're bound to recognize their mistake once they lay eyes on you. Better to let one of us take it," Josiah argued. He was certain the money was not the only issue here. Undoubtedly, Larabee had become the target for more reasons than one. Getting Vin back was iffy. Throwing Chris out in front was just plain stupid. They could lose both men far too easily.
"I seem to recall, Gentlemen, that the note specifically asked that I take the ransom to the designated meeting place," Ezra reminded the group.
"Ain't arguing about this, Ezra. Ain't arguing with any of you. Vin's in this because of me, and I'm not putting the rest of you in any more danger than necessary. All they want is the money, they ain't gonna care who brings it." Chris had yet to figure out if the kidnappers were part of his past, or just bargaining on the notoriety of his reputation. Either way, one friend suffering as a result of his previous lifestyle was more than enough.
"I'm not so sure, Chris. Seems to me, they're looking for Ezra. You showing up will just make them suspicious. No reason to show our hand before we're ready. You can do Vin a lot more good if you keep out of sight," Josiah reasoned.
Chris said nothing as he looked down into the drink he'd yet to take a sip of. He didn't like it, but he supposed it made some sense. He turned his gaze to Standish, who gave him a slight nod. The man was willing to put it all on the line for Vin, and he couldn't ask for more than that. Chris nodded back, accepting the unspoken promise with unspoken gratitude.
JD found himself having a hard time believing any of this. It seemed that they were putting an awful lot of faith in a poorly written note and a backward ‘b'. When the doors to the saloon swung open forcefully, he half expected Vin to come strolling in. He hid his disappointment when he saw that it was only Chester, the oldest man in town – or maybe the whole territory by the looks of him – and voiced his doubts.
"How do we know anybody really has Vin? He could just be off somewhere by himself, licking his wounds after that fight with Chris."
"JD!" Buck growled menacingly. Here he thought he'd been making progress with the kid and his mouth, and then he goes and says something stupid like that.
"What? I . . . ow!" The youth's sentence was abruptly cut off by Buck's boot hitting his shin. JD gave the rogue his best "what did I do now?" expression, and received Buck's best "just shut up" glare in return.
But if Chris minded, he didn't show it. He merely responded to the young man's original question. "They've got him," he said with certainty. "And we're getting him back."
Chester had made his way over to the table by then and looked expectantly from man to man, his faded brown eyes nearly dancing with excitement. Normally, Chris had the patience of a saint with the old man, listening to him prattle on for hours about the old days while the gunslinger whittled and gave an occasional nod. But now was not a good time, and he didn't have to say a word for Josiah to take the hint.
The tall preacher stood and placed a gentle hand on the frail man's arm. "What y' need, Chester?"
"Don't need nothin'. I'm here to help you boys. I hear y'all got some action goin' on up at the old mine." The ancient codger had lost his teeth long ago, but his wide grin still lit up his wrinkled face.
"Yeah, that's right. But I reckon we can handle it without your help," Josiah responded smoothly as he attempted to turn the withered figure away.
"Although we certainly appreciate the offer of assistance, Chester." Ezra added. He was fond of the old guy, though he'd never admit it, and he even let him win a hand now and then just to see his eyes spark.
But Chester would not be dissuaded so easily. "Now hold on here. I got information that could help you fellas. I worked that mine fer near ten years." He could see by the gunman's face that he'd finally gotten his attention.
"Sit down, Chester," Chris offered softly. "Tell us what you know."
The old man cackled as he took a seat by the man in black. He'd been hoping to get in on one of the seven's adventures ever since they came to town, and now was his chance.
"Well y' see, there's one main shaft, and all kinds of tunnels shootin' off of it. A man could get real lost down there, likely never find his way out if he don't know where he's goin'. I could draw y'all a map, if y' think that would help?"
Chris nodded as he spoke, "That would help a lot. Thank you, Chester." He thought of the dark, confined spaces that the miners endured, and then of his best friend. Vin would be going crazy. He remembered an occasion where he and the tracker had had to ride out a particularly rough storm in a particularly cramped little cave. Tanner had acted like a caged animal, restless and irritable and – if Larabee hadn't known better – panicky. If they had Vin hidden in one of those shafts, the peacekeepers would have a difficult time finding him, and that was assuming they could make their way into the entrance at all.
"Chester, is there another entrance to the mine? Maybe a back way in?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Larabee. Main shaft goes all the way through. It's a good, long walk, though."
Chris nodded as a plan began formulating in the back of his brain. As unlikely as it seemed, Chester's help had given them a better shot at getting their sharpshooter back. But his relief was short-lived when he thought again of the hell his friend may be enduring on his behalf. And all because he'd acted so stupidly yesterday. If only he could take back his harsh words and tell Tanner how he really felt. The stern gunslinger quickly reined in his wandering thoughts. He'd played this game in the past, enough times to know he could never win.
Refocusing his concentration, he watched as the thin, feeble hands etched out a crude map of Vin's apparent prison. The old man was right - a man could get lost in the maze. Chris was astounded that Chester could still remember every twist and turn, but he didn't doubt him. His body had shriveled into a shell of its former self, but his mind remained true. The blond realized the elder was quaking with excitement, the power of being needed and respected again nearly overwhelming him. When at last he finished, he took one long, crooked finger and traced his way along the path from the entrance to the exit.
"These here are the only ways in and the only ways out," he informed them, lest they had any doubts. "You cover them two holes, and they ain't goin' nowhere."
Trapping the outlaws in the mountain of rock appeared to be the best idea. Then Chris turned to his right, where Vin should have been standing, and felt the sick feeling return to his stomach. Unfortunately, Vin would be trapped with them.
They'd need a different plan.
+ + + + + + +
The inky blackness consumed every sense and every thought. He fought back the familiar panic that threatened to drown him, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he'd first awakened, he'd thought he was blind. Even now, he wasn't entirely sure. He'd regained consciousness after what could have been hours or minutes; to find himself in a deep darkness like he had never known. Maybe he wasn't really awake after all, he'd told himself, but the burning in his thigh and the hammering in his head spoke differently. He'd been knocked pretty hard in the head, and that was when it occurred to him that he might be blind. He'd seen that happen to other unfortunate souls.
Then he remembered the mine. He must be inside, and that thought panicked him even more than the idea that he could not see. He didn't know why small, dark spaces bothered him so much. Probably sometime, somewhere, something had happened to him that he'd long since stuffed away in the back of his mind. But he wasn't the type to dwell on the past – there always seemed to be too much going on in the here and now. And here and now, he was a prisoner in absolutely the most terrible place he could imagine. He struggled then to release his bonds, realizing his arms were still tied behind his back. The rope that tied his chest to a beam tightened as he frantically attempted to maneuver his hands into a more manageable position. He had to get out.
The struggle left him breathless and lightheaded. The pounding in his head sent waves of pain throughout his entire body, and he fought hard to swallow the nausea that followed. He told himself to calm down, to take a breath, to think. He'd been in tough situations before, and he could handle this. He just needed to hold on until the boys came for him.
They would come, provided they had figured out that he was in trouble. Chris would rip the mountain apart looking for him. He knew because he would do the same for him. How could he have let something so dumb come between them? Why hadn't he just told the blond in the beginning? What was it Chris had said? "You're too dumb or too proud to trust me with this" . . . "trust me with this". Damn, Larabee was taking this personally. And the gunslinger was right – he had let his pride get in the way. Somehow, somewhere along the way, the respect of his friends had become the most important thing in is life – had, in fact, given his life new meaning. But he was afraid his weakness would change that. Vin Tanner, the man who never cared what others thought of him or how he lived his life, suddenly cared a whole lot about what six other men thought of him. And as much as he'd tried to deny it, he cared most of all what Chris Larabee thought of him.
Aw hell, he was thinking too much – getting downright maudlin. Then again, what else did he have to do? He kept his eyes closed, finding it easier to not see the darkness. He wished he'd been able to read the note so that at least he'd have some idea when this ransom thing was taking place. It could be a day or a week for all he knew. No, not a week - he could never last that long. Neither could Roy, strung up tight like he was. His captors would want this over with, too. So all he had to do was wait.
Alone. In the dark. Oh God.
He felt his heart pound ferociously as the air seemed to leave his lungs. He gasped, and groaned at the pain that flared in his ribs. When had that happened? The dizziness and nausea returned, and he found himself wishing he could pass out. But his body refused to cooperate with even that small request, and he was doomed to remain awake, lucid, in pain, and afraid. Trapped.
+ + + + + + +
Jeb limped through the darkened caverns, the lantern swinging at his side shedding just enough light to cast eerie shadows on the stone walls. Fearing that he'd forgotten just where he'd put their prisoner, he quickened his pace, as much as his sore knee would allow. He turned the corner and breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of harsh breathing that cut through the intense stillness of the dark prison. He knew that sound – the sound of fear. He couldn't blame the gunfighter, though, God knows he couldn't stand it in this black hole for long. Felt like being buried alive, and the quicker he got out of here, the better.
He didn't much care how Larabee was fairing, as long as he lived long enough for the brothers to collect their money in the morning. Lifting the lantern up just high enough to see his captive's bruised face, he aimed a swift kick at the injured man's bloody thigh. The sorer he became from his tumble down the mountainside, the more his blood boiled. It was a good thing Roy had shown up when he had, or he'd never have been able to carry Larabee up the hill and into the mine. He would like to just kill the gunman now, but he'd have to settle for making him miserable. He was gratified to see it worked, judging by the groan that escaped his prisoner's lips.
Vin cursed that very groan, knowing the pleasure it gave his tormentor. But he embraced the light, insufficient though it was in the consuming blackness. At least he knew he was not blind. He squinted into the soft glare of the oil lamp, his eyelids fluttering as he adjusted to the dim light. Jeb looked like a coiled rattler – ready to strike at any moment, and he wisely bit back the smart remark he intended to make. He needed to be in good enough shape to make a run for it when the boys came. His leg would be a nuisance, but he could ignore it for as long as he had to. He was feeling a bit woozy, though, probably lost some blood, but he wouldn't let that slow him down either. When the time came, he'd do whatever it took to make it out of this hell.
"Time's comin', Larabee. Time's comin' when you'll be sorry you ever messed with my family." Jeb spoke menacingly in a low whisper.
Vin was thinking he was already sorry that Chris had messed with this family, but he decided he might like to know exactly what he was suffering for. He tried to clear his dry throat, wondering vaguely when he'd last had a drink of water, and asked hoarsely, "Y' mind filling me in on just what I did t' yer pa?"
The thought that his father's death held so little meaning for the gunslinger enraged the outlaw. He aimed another kick at the battered prisoner, and immediately regretted it as pain flared in his injured knee.
The tracker knew what was coming this time, and managed to stifle his groan. These men seemed to have an obsession with kicking, he decided. He wondered if either one of them could throw a decent punch, and determined he would find out when this was over. That is, if Chris didn't blow them away before he got the chance.
A far away look came into Jeb's eyes as he thought of the events of a decade before. Almost without thinking, he spoke out loud, "Its been near ten years now that my pa went lookin' to sell his cattle to a man named Larson. ‘Member ‘im?"
Vin said nothing, remembering he was being Chris Larabee now. The less he said, the less likely he'd make a mistake.
Jeb continued, "You worked fer ‘im. He tried to cheat my pa out of his rightful share, and when things got ugly, you shot ‘im. Just like that. I was standin' there watchin'. Wasn't much more than a kid then."
Chris wouldn't kill a man in front of his son without a good reason. And though he spoke for Chris, he knew that his words spoke for himself, as well. "I ain't never killed a man who didn't ask for it, one way or another. Ain't never killed an innocent man."
Jeb scoffed. "Sure y' haven't. I swore you were gonna pay with yer life, and you will come sun-up. Yer friends will pay, too – that's if they think yer worth the five hundred. How ‘bout it, Larabee? You think yer worth it?"
Vin didn't answer. Chris Larabee was worth a hell of lot more than five hundred dollars. He was worth his life, in fact. For he knew - if push came to shove – he would give it up for his best friend.
Now that the subject of his father had been broached, Jeb sorely wanted to inflict more punishment on the murderer. But in the hazy light, he could see that the man looked bad enough. With hatred evident in his tone, he turned away from Vin and muttered, "Til mornin' then."
Vin watched the man shuffle away, taking the precious light with him. The demons in his mind grew with the return of the blackness, and he sought to dispel them with thoughts of his friends. JD's exuberant smile, Buck's hearty laugh, Nathan's gentle touch, Ezra's quick wit, and Josiah's soothing voice all brought him a measure of peace. And when that wasn't enough, he thought of Chris.
He never could understand why the gunslinger had offered to go to Tascosa with him only a few weeks after they'd met. He'd never had anyone care about his problems, much less offer to help him fix them. He never understood why he trusted the gunslinger so completely so quickly, either. It seemed from the moment they met, that they had an understanding, a shared sense of destiny. His feelings for Chris had only grown since then.
Feelings? Now where did that come from? Feelings seemed like an awful strong word – the kind of word you didn't use when you were talking about a pard. But the truth was, he had a whole bunch of feelings where the gunman was concerned, and one of those was feeling real bad about walking out on Chris. He hoped those weren't the last words they would share. Then again, he and Larabee often didn't need words to "talk". Maybe the blond could hear him now, if he worked on it hard enough. Maybe he'd know how scared and hurt and alone he was feeling.
As his body finally gave in to exhaustion, his last thought was that Chris did know. And come morning, he'd move heaven and earth to get him back.
+ + + + + + +
Chris turned abruptly as a strong gust of wind blew through his open window. He'd gone to his room to gather some supplies before meeting his men at the livery. If he'd been a suspicious man, he'd have been sure a message had been blown his way via the breeze. He'd been tossing around the idea in his head for hours now that Vin might already be dead. But with the draft had come a sure sense of the tracker, almost like he was a hound dog who had picked up the scent of the man. Vin was alive. And as sure as he was of that fact, he was equally sure that his friend was hurt and afraid in the old, dark mine.
Chris made his way over to the window, and allowed the night air to blow through his hair. He hoped that somehow his friend could hear his thoughts – that somehow Vin knew he was coming for him. And he'd move heaven and a whole mountain of earth to find him.
Part 3: One Good Look
JD paced nervously around the exit of the old mine. Glancing at Josiah, who sat on a nearby rock calmly chewing a blade of grass, he swallowed the frustration that loomed inside him. He was stuck at the back of the tunnels, while all the action was taking place up front. He'd wanted to confront Chris about it, but one look at the gunman's face, and he'd decided against it. He couldn't really blame Chris anyway. Their leader needed Buck to take the long shot, since Vin was out of the picture. He obviously needed Ezra to deliver the ransom, and his quick thinking wouldn't hurt either, in case things didn't go down the way they planned. He needed Nathan, because it was possible that Vin was hurt. That left him and Josiah to guard the exit. JD understood why he was placed where he was, but he didn't have to like it.
The good news was that they'd found only two horses. Two men going against the seven, or even the six, was laughable. Just how stupid could these guys be? First they grab the wrong man, and then they try to get money for him. Tying their horses out here in the open where he and Josiah could quickly chase them off wasn't real smart, either. He was surprised they'd managed to get Vin in the first place. JD figured the tracker must have been real distracted to let anybody get the drop on him. It occurred to him that if he'd just kept his mouth shut about the reading incident, none of this would have happened. Buck had assured him that it could have happened anyway, or maybe they'd have grabbed Chris. Either way, they'd still be out looking for one of their own. Still, he hoped he'd get a chance to apologize to Vin.
Josiah watched the youngest member of their group with barely concealed amusement. JD's restless behavior was enough to try the patience of a saint on a good day. On a day fraught with tension, like today, it was no wonder Chris had wanted him on the opposite side of the mountain. He knew the kid hated missing the action, although he wasn't so sure the action might not head their way before this was over. He'd happily miss the excitement, though, just to have everyone back in one piece.
Josiah grew serious as he mulled over the situation Vin had apparently found himself in. One look in the mine's dark tunnels, and he knew the sharpshooter was in trouble. He wasn't sure if the others realized it, but he'd known for some time now that Tanner had trouble in confined areas. The man could hardly stand to sleep indoors - he'd be half-crazy spending five minutes in the mine, let alone hours. Yet, if their assumptions were correct, he'd chosen to endure it rather than let his captors know he wasn't Larabee. Although, that was not surprising, considering the feelings the two men shared for each other. Josiah smiled when he thought how the tough gunmen would no doubt bulk at the word feelings and what it implied. Call it respect, admiration, understanding or even affection – it was apparent that the brotherhood the seven shared extended a shade deeper for Chris and Vin. So he was not surprised at Tanner's actions, nor at the carefully veiled desperation he saw in Larabee's eyes.
Now Ezra was surprising.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra reminded himself that he had volunteered for this rather unsavory assignment. True, the note - if one could call the shabby piece of pulp that, demanded his presence, but Mr. Larabee had been quite willing to assume the role. He wasn't at all sure what had come over him.
He stood nervously in a cropping of trees just downhill of the mine. It would be light soon, and time for his performance. He knew the others were in place, merely waiting for the moment when the morning rays first lifted the darkness from the black sky. With deep cloud cover, and only a slice of a moon, their ride had been difficult – the tension deep and thick as the consuming darkness. Ezra couldn't help but think of Vin and the almost suffocating blackness he would be experiencing in the mineshafts. He doubted the others realized it, but he knew the tracker would be having a difficult time in the narrow confines of the mountain prison.
Pacing amongst the trees, he looked heaven ward once again. Surely morning would never come. He tried to take a deep breath to calm his nerves, suddenly realizing how unlike himself he was behaving. This was nothing more than a game – a con he'd played in one form or another his entire life. Numerous times, his life had been endangered by his choice of profession, this time was hardly any different. In fact, this time, he had friends watching his back – friends with deadly aim. He had nothing to be nervous about.
Yet he could not stop pacing, could not stop running the scenarios, could not stop turning his eyes to the east for a glimpse of the sun. It was different this time. For this time, a friend's life depended on him. What did it mean that he was more nervous for Vin, than for himself? When did his own safety and well being become less important than another man's? The other man being a scruffy, uncouth tracker, no less? Oh Lord, when this was over, he'd have to sit himself down and have a serious conversation – provided he found himself in one piece.
Vin had better be in one piece, as well. He had no intention of suffering all of this aggravation and emotion without good reason. Of course, if he screwed up, and Mr. Tanner was harmed in the process, he wouldn't need to worry about the consequences – for Mr. Larabee would surely kill him. And it would be a fate he deserved.
Yes, he definitely needed to have a talk with himself.
+ + + + + + +
"Damn."
"Ain't gonna change the situation, no matter how many times y' curse about it, Buck."
"Well hell, Nathan, don't you think I know that? Makes me feel better is all. Damn," the lady's man said again, although a bit softer this time. It was just too dark for him to get a fix on the best spot to cover Ezra.
Both Nathan and Buck had taken positions on a rising slope just adjacent to the entrance of the old mine, but the available cover - in the form of boulders or bushes – was few and far between. They were limited in their choices, and so had done the best they could to find a protected area that would also afford a decent view of the action below. Of course, in the black of the night, it was nearly impossible to tell where the ground ended and the mine began.
In the black of the night . . . Buck rolled that around in his head for a moment. As dark as it seemed in the stillness of the outdoors, it must seem a thousand times darker inside those tunnels. He shuddered to think of Vin in that place.
Nathan could barely make out the form of his teammate a few yards away, but he instinctively felt the uneasiness in Wilmington. "What y' thinkin' about, Buck?"
"Nothin' much," he answered. It wasn't right talking about a friend's fears with another friend. Vin wouldn't like everyone knowing how uneasy he was in close spaces. Just because he'd figured it out, didn't mean everyone else had.
Nathan sighed. He didn't know what was going through Buck's mind, but he sure knew what was going through his. What state would Vin be in if and when they found him? Even if he weren't hurt physically, how would he be after spending nearly a day inside that mountain? He knew how Vin felt about being hemmed in. He'd almost mentioned it to Chris, but decided against it. Their leader had enough to worry about, without adding Tanner's mental state to the mix. The Texan had the coolest head Nathan had ever seen – never even flinching in a gunfight, but he wondered if Vin had been able to keep that calm while trapped in a prison with no light and precious little air. To top it off, there was the possibility – make that probability - that he'd been injured having, no doubt, put up one hell of a fight.
Nathan shifted around to get a better look at the area below, but still heard and saw nothing. He didn't like this anymore than Buck did.
"Damn," he whispered.
"You can say that again," Buck muttered back.
+ + + + + + +
He didn't like it. It was too dark. He was too far away. They were too late. Buck was right. They should have ridden up here last night and just went in and got him. They should have went in through the back and surprised them.
He should never have let this happen.
Chris crouched down behind the gentle slope that lay to the left of the mine's opening, on the opposite side of Buck and Nathan. He had heard nothing and seen less. They must be deep inside, for he had not even witnessed a flash of light. He could no longer think about how his best friend was fairing, concentrating on just getting him out and getting him back.
Getting him out. God, it must be like a tomb in there. Chris nervously fingered the map tucked away in his pocket. Hopefully, they wouldn't need it, but he felt some relief just knowing he had it. They'd brought plenty of lanterns, too, and he wished he could light one now. Anything to chase away the darkness.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced such a black night. It was a wonder they'd made it there without incident. It was just as well, though. At least he didn't have to see the looks the others kept throwing his way. And for a few brief hours, he could let the mask slip. For a short time, he didn't have to pretend he was all right with this. In the starless night, he could forget to be Chris Larabee, confident and fearless gunslinger – and allow himself to be just a man, a man desperately afraid of losing a friend.
He looked again at the mine's opening, and realized he could just barely make out the timbers that framed the entrance. It was nearly dawn. He readied his weapon and held his breath before peering through the shadows at the con man. Ezra paced about at the foot of the incline, and Chris wanted to shout at him to take some cover. Fool would get himself killed before this even started. As if hearing the blond's warning, Standish turned suddenly and moved to stand among the trees.
Any moment now, the outlaws would show themselves and this would be over. All he needed was one look at Vin, just to see that he was really here and really alive, before he took out the man who held him. Buck and Nathan would cover Ezra. Even if there were five men guarding the tracker, he'd take them down before they knew what hit them. They were just plain stupid to mess with his friends, and they deserved what they would soon get.
Hopefully, Vin would be able to help with his escape, but if not, Chris would go get him. They just couldn't allow the men to somehow get him back inside that mine. He'd made that clear to the others. If they lost Tanner and his captors inside the tunnels, their jobs would be a hundred times more difficult. They had to keep this all out in the open. The kidnappers had to bring Vin out in the open. He just needed one good look.
+ + + + + + +
The pounding in his head finally woke him, but it was the dryness in his throat that drove him to distraction. What he wouldn't give for just a sip of water. And a sliver of light. And a breath of fresh air. Surely it had to be morning by now. Surely Chris and the boys were on their way. He tried once more to free his hands, and found that they were numb, along with his arms. The ache in his shoulders was nearly unbearable, though, and he decided maybe the water and the light and the air could wait, if he could just maneuver his arms back into their natural position.
On second thought, he'd kill for the water. Now there was a comforting thought. He'd kill these idiots before this was over. Chris had better leave one or the other for him. Preferably Jeb.
Almost on cue, Jeb hobbled into the tunnel that housed his prisoner; the lantern once again bumping against his leg as it swung by his side. He said nothing as he reached down to untie Vin's torso from the beam. Vin could see that he'd slept little, and he appeared to be in pain. That made him weak, vulnerable.
It also made him mean. Jeb knew he'd need Larabee only a few more minutes, just until he collected his rightful due, and killing him quickly held little appeal. He pulled the weakened man to his feet and delivered a vicious blow to his midsection, followed by another. Vin gasped and doubled over, the thought that Jeb really could throw a decent punch fleeting across his hazy consciousness.
Before he'd had a chance to recover, Jeb roughly pushed him forward, the ever-present rifle once again digging into his back. "Its show time, Larabee," the outlaw growled.
Vin would have liked to shout, "It's about damn time!" - but he could barely breathe at that moment. He stumbled in the dimly lit shadows of the rock walls, his entire body tired and sore and dry as the desert dust. But Chris was here, and this would all be over soon. With a sudden pang, he worried that if the brothers got a good look at the real Larabee, they might figure out their mistake. Larabee decked out in his usual black attire made an imposing image – one that was hard to dismiss. As stupid as the brothers were, they were sure to recognize the famous gunman when they saw him in front of them. Maybe Chris would get smart and wear that white shirt for once. He had one – Vin had seen him in it, and teased him so badly that the blond never put it on again.
The spinning of his head made it difficult for him to think, but there was no way he'd let them get at Chris now. He just had to be ready for whatever came. Just get him out into the open, and he knew the boys would take it from there.
+ + + + + + +
Just get them out in the open, Chris had told him. Drilled it in his brain over and over again, in fact. As if he would forget. As if he were that stupid. Oh, what was that you do told me to do, Mr. Larabee? Get the bad guys out of the mine? And Vin, too, you say? I hadn't thought of that.
Ezra stopped his pacing and tried to calm his rattled nerves. He wasn't really perturbed with their leader, knowing they were both on edge. The darkness had lifted just enough for him to notice an interesting assortment of rocks near where he stood. That is, if rocks could ever be considered interesting. A thought came to him. If the money were not on his person, he would have reason to lead the scoundrels from the entrance of the aforementioned mine. Get them out in the open.
He pulled out the envelope tucked in his coat pocket, and quickly hid it under the stones. Glancing up the incline, he noted movement at last from the black hole.
Jeb couldn't see the gambler, but he knew he was out there. He knew how much his prisoner meant to that town. The gambler had been part of the group that had busted up that brawl last week, in fact. He was one of them. He'd be here, and he'd pay to get his friend back.
Jeb prodded the tracker to within ten feet of the opening, then checked to see that his brother was in place. "Don't let him out until I say," he instructed the younger man. "And once I got the money, take care of the gambler."
"I want t' take out Larabee," Roy argued.
"You just do what I tell y' and shut up." Jeb was in no mood for this. He'd waited ten years for the chance to take out Chris Larabee. He'd been the one to see their father gunned down, and he'd be the one to finish it.
Vin hadn't gotten past the part about taking out the gambler. They were expecting Ezra? Even in his muddled state, he quickly grasped the reasoning behind that. Jeb had seen Standish on a winning streak, and probably figured he'd have the cash. Too bad the brothers had no idea how unwilling Ezra would be to part with it. Too bad his life now depended on it – or rather on him.
Now matter what, though, he couldn't let harm come to Ezra any more than he could to Chris. He could just barely make out the entrance where Jeb now stood, peering out into the gray morning. He'd thought it would be lighter somehow, and wondered if maybe his busted up head really had affected his eyesight. He turned his gaze to Roy, who scowled at his older brother, while blocking any move Vin hoped to make with his rifle.
"Gambler! You out there?" Jeb called suddenly, breaking the deceptive calm of the early morning.
Ezra shook his head as he moved from behind the trees and began a slow trek up the steep hill towards the booming voice. He must have lost his mind. Half-way up, he replied uncertainly, "Yes, I am on my way."
Chris strained to see from his position on the slope. It was still too damn dark, and he cursed the overcast skies. It hadn't rained in weeks, so why the hell it would threaten now was beyond him. He saw the "big, hairy man" of Billy's description standing in the shadows, but no sign of Vin, or anyone else for that matter. He thought about filling him with lead where he stood, but the uncertainty of how many others may be holding onto his best friend, forced him to remain patient. He'd have to trust Ezra to lure them out. He'd hoped to never be in the position where he had to trust Standish with a life other than his own, but it hadn't turned out that way. Ezra had taken great pains to improve his standing with the gunslinger in recent months, and it had worked to some extent – but Chris surely didn't want Vin's life to be the ultimate test.
By the time the con man made it to the top of the incline, he had to stop a moment and catch his breath. Opening his arms wide, he called out once again, "Well, here I am." The kidnapper remained in place, his rifle pointed directly at the gambler. Ezra was sure he could smell him from where he stood several yards away, and he noted that the man's grizzly appearance actually made Vin look clean cut and tidy. Oh Lord, he was in for a long morning.
"Where's the money?" Jeb asked pointedly.
"Where is Mr. Larabee?" Ezra returned.
"Show me what I want, and I'll show y' what you want."
Jeb spoke wearily, a fact quickly noted by Standish. His opponent was tired, which left him vulnerable – and possibly prone to acting more stupidly than he already had.
Ezra replied, " We could be in for quite a long wait then."
Jeb huffed as he motioned to someone inside. He knew he'd have to show their prisoner eventually, but he'd hoped to have at least gotten a glimpse of his money first.
"Cover me," he instructed his brother as Vin was pushed to the opening.
As if to prove he'd gotten the point, Roy stuck his rifle out of the entrance and began firing wildly in all directions.
Ezra ducked and hollered, "What the hell are you doing?!"
"Just lettin' anybody who was stupid enough t' follow you, know that I'm not alone here," Jeb offered.
Chris lifted his head after the rounds had been fired and held his breath when he saw the men's prisoner being forced into the open. Vin. Relief warred with fear as he took in the appearance of his best friend. Even in the gloomy light, he could see that Tanner was banged up pretty good. But he was still standing – and more than ready to go, by the looks of him. Unfortunately, he couldn't get a good enough view to take out the man, the second gunman he now realized, holding Vin at gunpoint. The outlaw was a loose cannon, too, judging by the errant shots he'd fired. Ezra would have to force them all out, or there was no way he could free Vin.
Nathan yearned to spring up from his hiding place and rush to his injured friend. Every instinct told him that Vin needed help, probably more than even the tracker realized, but he knew he had to be patient and wait. He had to trust Ezra – something that still did not come easily for him. Glancing over at Buck, he saw that Wilmington's full concentration was on the man talking with Standish. When Chris gave the signal, he'd take him out, while Larabee took care of the man holding Vin. With a little luck, it would be that easy. There would be no more men, no more injuries, no more surprises.
Nathan and Jeb may be on the opposite end of the spectrum in most things, but they were both hoping for the same things at that moment. The older brother peered out into the surrounding area for a sign of Larabee's gang. He didn't need any surprises right now. He was tired and hurting and ready to get this over with. He moved once again to stand in front of the gambler.
"All right. Y'see he's alive. Now get on with it. Give me the money."
Ezra looked down as he nervously dug the toe of his boot into the stony ground. He'd met Vin's eyes only briefly, just long enough to see the hope there. Tanner's hold was tenuous, his strength fading. He needed to get this moving along.
"Yes, well, I shall be obliged to share with you the exact location of your remuneration once I have ascertained the true condition and security of my compatriot."
"What the hell?" Jeb asked, clearly annoyed and confused by the gambler's reply.
Ezra sighed. "I said, bring me my friend, and I shall take you to your money."
"What do y'mean, take me to my money. Where the hell is it? You were supposed t' bring it here."
"It is in a secure location that is nearby, I assure you."
Jeb rubbed a hand across his eyes. He should have known the gambler would try something. He knew enough con men in his day to have expected this. But he wasn't about to play the game, not this time.
The angry man suddenly stalked over and took hold of Ezra's coat. Jerking him close, he pushed the rifle against his chest and growled, "I ain't playin' with ya, mister. I want my money, and I don't rightly care what happens t' you or your friend Larabee there. My brother can take him out real quick like, and he's itchin' t' do it, too."
Ezra swallowed. He so badly wanted to look in Larabee's direction for some sign of what he needed him to do. Vin appeared to be in the clear, from where Standish stood, but it was doubtful that the gunslinger could get off a decent shot at the tracker's guard. He thought of pulling his own concealed derringer, but the shotgun currently imbedded in his chest gave him considerable pause. Now would be a good time for one of his cohorts to make an impossible shot – or preferably two. Unfortunately, the man who had the best chance of making that shot, was the same man who needed rescuing at the moment.
Chris nearly felt lightheaded from holding his breath so long. He had no idea what Ezra was doing – but it didn't appear to be working. The long-haired outlaw was becoming more agitated by the minute, and he still couldn't get off a shot at the equally unkempt man with his rifle situated solidly in Vin's back. Trying to maintain his legendary coolness, he shifted his position just enough to get a better look at his best friend. Even in the dreary shadows of the gray morning, he could see the weariness and pain in Vin's eyes. They had to end this soon.
Vin had tried not to look too desperate when he was finally brought out to the opening, but he couldn't hide his relief when he felt the fresh air hit his face. In spite of Jeb's words, he was still stunned to see Ezra there, supposedly delivering the ransom. Standish appeared tense and uncertain, something that took the tracker by surprise. He sensed that Chris was nearby, waiting for the moment to make his move. He could only hope the other boys were there, as well, with Jeb's instructions to take out the gambler still clearly in his mind.
He'd met Ezra's eyes when he first came out, and saw a promise there that he hoped the gambler could keep. But reality hit home when Roy once again jabbed his back with the rifle and jerked on the rope that bound his hands. He may not make it out of this, and he didn't want either Standish or Larabee blaming themselves. Hoping to catch Ezra's eye, he lifted his head once more, but his heart sank when he noted that Jeb had rapidly spun out of control. Standish was going to end up dead, too, if something didn't happen quickly.
Where was Chris? Peering up into the surrounding hills, Vin knew instinctively where the gunman lay in wait. Although he couldn't see his friend's face, he knew that Chris could most likely see him. He felt a slow, gut-wrenching feeling of dread spread through him, and suddenly water and light and air lost all importance. He needed to let Chris know that this had all been worth it – that he was worth it. No matter how it ended up, he had no regrets.
Chris didn't possess Vin's eagle eyes, but he could read Tanner's face as clearly as if his friend stood only inches away. And there was no way he'd let the Texan get away with this. If Vin thought it would be all right for him to give up his life in Larabee's name, he'd better just think again - because it was not going to happen.
Chris couldn't figure out why Standish didn't hand over the money. True, Vin was not in the position he needed him to be in, but he didn't expect Ezra to get himself killed, either. "Just give him the money, Ezra," he muttered softly. That action was sure to distract the outlaws long enough for him and Buck to take care of them both.
Ezra, in the meantime, wondered if he'd done the right thing stashing the bills under the rocks. He hoped his intentions wouldn't be misunderstood if this all went badly. He truly didn't mind giving up his income – truly it was just a ruse to move the kidnappers away from the mine. But if he ended up dead – would the others think he'd held out on them? Held out on Vin?
With just a hint of desperation, he spoke again, "Calm down and listen to me, please. The money is here. We will walk there together. You and I, and Mr. Larabee." There, that sounded reasonable.
Jeb huffed again, but backed away a few steps from the gambler. He turned slightly towards his brother and their captive, trying to work out the best way to handle this. He might have gone for it - might have done the smart thing, but fate intervened.
As Jeb moved away from Standish, Vin moved ever so slightly away from Roy, whose full attention was on his brother. Chris saw that the moment had come, and with a low whistle, signaled to Buck.
Buck raised his weapon at the very moment the sun finally made an appearance. Its soft light sought out the gleam of Wilmington's gun, and reflected directly into Roy's eyes.
The chain of events that ensued was not predicted in any of Ezra's scenarios. The youngest of the avenging bandits caught the glare and immediately identified the threat for what it was. He called out in warning to his brother, "Jeb!"
Jeb quickly turned, followed his brother's gaze to the adjacent hill and prepared to fire. But he never got the chance, for Buck's bullet found its target and the outlaw fell to the ground, his rifle discharging as he went down. Standish hardly even noticed the burning pain in his shoulder as he careened head over heels down the slope. Instead, his only thoughts were that he'd failed to get Vin out into the open, and that his friends would never find the money he'd hid – that they'd believe he had held out on them. When he finally came to a rest at the bottom of the hill, he decided he might as well go ahead and die – and save Mr. Larabee the trouble of killing him.
Chris's shot ricocheted in the stony cavern just inches from Roy's head. Fearful that he might hit Vin by mistake, the gunman had hesitated just a moment too long. "Damn," he whispered. Heedless of the bullets peppering the ground around him, he abandoned his cover and moved towards the mine.
Roy had responded by again firing wildly into the surrounding hills, while still maintaining a tight grip on the rope that tied his captive's hands. He spared his stricken brother a passing glance before making the first independent decision of his life. He was getting out of here. He'd take Larabee along – just until he was clear of his men, then kill him like he'd wanted to do all along. Jeb always made everything so damn complicated. From now on, he'd live his life the way he wanted.
Buck remained where he was, attempting to cover Chris. He was convinced that his old friend was about to get is damn fool head shot off. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nathan move on down to where Ezra had landed in a motionless heap. Although his shots kept the second gunman busy, he knew he had no real hope of hitting him. Vin was just too close. And when Roy pulled Vin back inside, still squarely in front of him, he knew their worst fear had come true - they'd be searching those tunnels for their friend.
Chris knew it, too, and once again his stomach churned with the sick foreboding that had tormented him since this whole thing began. Once inside, the kidnapper would have little reason to keep Vin alive. Josiah and JD may catch him at the other end, but what would it matter if Tanner were already dead? He stopped that train of thought almost as soon as it began – Vin was still alive, and he'd keep him that way. He noted that Nathan headed towards Ezra, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the gambler try to lift his head.
As Chris rushed towards the dark caverns, Vin caught his eye. Their gazes locked for only seconds, yet it seemed so much longer to the gunslinger. He saw the despair and resignation that blanketed Tanner's face, and something else, as well. But before he could determine what his best friend had tried to tell him, he was gone – swallowed up into the black hole.
Part 4: Without A Trace
Roy pushed his prisoner through the darkened tunnels; firing shots behind him now and then to ward off any approaching enemies. He struggled mightily with the captive, who stumbled and fought weakly with every step he was forced to take. With Vin's hands still tied, and Roy keeping a constant hold on the rope and his gun, they could not feel their way through the darkness, and both banged repeatedly into the stone walls. Roy had just about decided to make things easier and finish off the gunman, when they reached a fork in the tunnel. Jeb had made him memorize the way out, rightly assuming they'd be making the trip in the dark with men in pursuit. Roy scoffed at how his brother had nagged at him to practice the escape route so he wouldn't get lost in the maze. Jeb never gave him credit for having any brains.
There was a reason that Jeb made all the decisions for his brother. There was a reason he'd warned him to practice the way out, too. As the two men came to the fork, Roy hastily shoved is prisoner to the left. Had Jeb been there, he'd have reminded is brother again how he never could get right and left straight, before turning him in the correct direction. But Jeb wasn't there, and so the two men continued deeper into the mine, rather than towards the exit.
Vin felt the panic rising with every foot further that they traveled into the mineshafts. His numerous aches and pains were forgotten as he was forced into the blackness once again. He knew Chris would be close behind, but he also knew that patience was not a virtue that Roy possessed. Any moment now, the outlaw would tire of his uncooperative prisoner and do what he'd wanted to do all along. Vin was not afraid to die, but the thought of taking his last breath in this place was nearly unbearable.
Had Ezra taken his last breath? With almost surprising sorrow, he relived the vision of the gambler being blown down the hill by the blast from Jeb's rifle. Standish had tried to help him, and now he might be dead. The way Roy was spraying bullets around, one of the others could end up dead, as well. Vin felt like he'd played this all wrong from the beginning.
They'd gone a hundred feet or so from the turn when Vin decided he'd gone far enough. He turned awkwardly and rammed his shoulder into his guard, hoping to knock the rifle out of his hands. Surely in the blackness he could hide from Roy long enough for Chris to find him.
The rifle did fall to the ground, but Roy still held his prisoner's ropes securely in his hands. In the scuffle that ensued, both men struggled to stay on their feet, as Vin twisted wildly in his efforts to get away. His heart hammered in his chest, and he knew his strength would not hold out much longer - it was now or never.
The battle continued only moments before Vin felt his left foot slide over the edge of an apparent ledge. He panicked as he sought to regain his footing, only to realize there was nothing but space behind and beneath him. But before he could voice his startling revelation to his opponent, both men plummeted over the side and into the air.
Moments later, Vin felt the shocking impact of his body hitting stony ground. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he heard Roy screaming as he continued to fall deeper and farther. He never heard the other man hit bottom though, for pain soon consumed him and sent him into a merciful oblivion.
+ + + + + + +
Buck scrambled down the hill, hollering for Chris to hold up as he made his way. Stealing a quick glance at Nathan, he felt a measure of relief when the healer gave him a slight nod. At least Ezra was alive, and Nathan would do all he could to keep him that way. In the meantime, he'd have to keep Chris from going off half-cocked - not exactly a new challenge for him.
The bullets had stopped coming from the mine entrance as the kidnapper had gone deeper inside. Chris paused only long enough to shout directions to Buck, "Signal Josiah and JD." As he passed the outlaw who lay face down in the dirt, he stopped to turn the man over and check if he were a further threat.
Buck fired four shots in the air, hoping that the sound carried to the other side of the mountain, and made his way over to where Chris observed the wounded man. "Do you know him?" he asked his oldest friend.
Chris studied the man for a moment before answering, "Don't think so."Buck's bullet had been sure enough to finish the job, but Jeb still had some life left in him. He opened his eyes and noted with detachment the two men hovering over him. In a startling moment of awareness, he realized the man who studied him so intently had to be Larabee – the real Chris Larabee. They'd had the wrong man all along. He was dying, and no doubt his brother would suffer the same fate, for no reason. He had failed in the one cause that had driven his entire adult life. But even more disturbing and confusing to him was why a man would suffer in Larabee's name? Who had he held prisoner these past two days? He looked into the eyes of the gunslinger, seeking the source of such loyalty.
Chris met the outlaw's gaze, but revealed nothing to him except contempt. He wished the man would meet a slow death for all he had put Vin through, but knew it was not to be. He turned away to light a lantern and begin the search for his friend as the outlaw closed his eyes in death.
+ + + + + + +
JD's pacing had become almost frantic when he heard the muffled sounds of gunfire in the distance. He looked questioningly to Josiah. Things must be going badly, with all the shots fired, and how would they know for sure when to move?
Josiah was concerned himself, though he tried not to let on. He was about to suggest they head on inside the mine when he heard the distinctive pattern of shots they'd pre-arranged. With a heavy sigh, he lit two lanterns, handing one to JD, and prepared to move in. Something had gone wrong and he breathed a silent prayer that all of his friends were unharmed.
"Stay behind me, JD. If anything happens, the map is inside my left pocket." Chris had insisted they make an extra copy of Chester's drawing, and at this moment, the preacher was glad of it. He wasn't keen on getting lost inside this place, particularly with JD in tow.
JD looked as though he was about to argue, but he nodded instead, and spoke determinedly, "Well let's go, then."
Josiah led the way into the dark caverns, the oil lamp giving off barely enough light to guide them along the narrow stone passages. The heavy air and penetrating darkness settled like heavy weights on his soul. He could not imagine anyone working in these surroundings, could not imagine ever adjusting to the feelings of gloom and isolation.
He could hardly stand it in the dim light, with JD at his back. For Vin, alone and in the pitch black, it would be hell on earth. Suddenly, Josiah felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, and he knew as surely as if he'd been told by Vin himself, that the tracker was still here. Still trapped and still waiting, and so the big man hurried along -less cautious than he normally would have been, with JD close behind.
The preacher found himself referring to Chester's map often, and even then, he worried that he may have taken a wrong turn somewhere. If he didn't know better, he would think the old man's drawing represented a tree limb, with branches shooting off the main limb, and more offshoots tunneling off the branches. He intended to stick to the main trail for now, but it occurred to him as he did that, that the bandits could be laying in wait just about anywhere, and slip out behind them as he and JD advanced further ahead.
That seemed unlikely, though, considering the gunfire they'd heard. The outlaws had no way of knowing that he and JD were at the back, and would likely head out for their planned escape. And so when he thought he heard footsteps echoing ahead, he stopped walking and put a finger to his lips to warn JD to keep quiet. He considered dousing the flame from their lamps, but decided against it. A shoot out in the dark would benefit no one.
A soft glow became apparent from several yards ahead of where Josiah and JD stood flattened against the rock wall. Whoever approached, did so cautiously, likely seeing the illumination from the men's own lanterns.
JD was stunned to hear Josiah's rich voice call out, "Who goes there?"
Sanchez had gone purely on instinct, feeling that it was more likely friend than foe that came in their direction. He was right.
"Josiah?"
"Yeah, Chris. It's me and JD."
Chris came from the shadows with Buck close behind. The lantern the blond held cast an eerie glow on his fine features. The desperation and disappointment there were almost painful to behold, and Josiah found himself at a loss for words of encouragement or comfort.
They'd lost Vin.
"What happened?" Sanchez asked softly.
Buck stole a quick look at Chris, who rubbed a hand across his eyes as he once again pulled out the map, before explaining the events that took place earlier.
"Is Ezra all right?" JD asked anxiously.
Buck replied, "Don't really know, but Nathan's with him." Which was more than could be said for Vin at the moment.
"That leaves only four of us to search these tunnels," Josiah pointed out.
Chris couldn't still the pounding in his head or his heart. He'd known that somewhere along the way, Vin and his captor had to have turned off the main passage. With their lanterns, he and Buck had surely traveled faster than the outlaw would have been able to manage in the dark. The further they went without catching up to the kidnapper, the more certain he was that they were on the wrong track.
Kneeling on the stony earth, Chris laid out the map and forced himself to focus on what needed to be done. "I don't think they could have made it this far back, as fast as me and Buck were tailing them. So we'll concentrate on searching the tunnels closest to the front," the blond said, pointing to several branches that forked off nearest to the entrance.
"One of us had better stay on back here, Chris. Just in case we miss them and they try to make their way back out," Josiah offered.
JD rolled his eyes, certain he'd be the one delegated to that task, but to his surprise, Josiah volunteered.
"I know it leaves one less of us to search, but we don't need him sneaking out the back door with Vin. I'll stay near the exit – make sure no one gets past us."
Chris locked gazes with Josiah. He knew the big man was right, but he hated it. It would take hours, hell, maybe days to search this place with only three men. "All right, Josiah. We'll signal you when . . . this is over. You do the same if you see or hear anything."
Sanchez nodded and turned to pat JD squarely on the back. "Don't get lost, Kid," he cautioned with a small smile as he handed the youth his map.
JD smiled back. He'd learned to accept the protectiveness of his friends towards him, and took the affectionate gesture for what it was.
"Chris, we got another problem," Buck put in reluctantly as Josiah headed off.
"What?" How could the situation be worse than it already was?
"We've only got two maps. I don't think any of us should be running around in here blind. We'll end up searching for two men. Two of us are gonna need to go together."
Chris turned weary eyes to his old friend, feeling like Vin's chances were evaporating before him. But he knew Buck was right. "You and JD start here," he said as he traced his way along the crudely drawn tunnels, in much the same way Chester had. "I'll take this side. We'll meet back at the entrance in four hours. Understood?"
Buck understood. He understood that they were chasing a crazy man with an arsenal of bullets into dark tunnels. He understood that Vin would likely be dead by the time they found him. And he understood that losing Vin just might destroy his oldest friend for good.
Chris understood only one thing – he was not leaving this mountain without Vin.
+ + + + + + +
Nathan skillfully wrapped a bandage around Ezra's shoulder, thankful that the injured man had remained unconscious throughout most of the ordeal. The bullet had gone clean through, but the gambler's close proximity to the weapon had caused more damage than the healer liked. Standish would be out of commission for a while, and would probably drive him crazy before it was over. But he would live, provided no complications developed – which was more than he could say for Vin at the moment.
Nathan leaned back against the trunk of a tree. He'd pulled Ezra over to the nearby shaded area, in part to give the man some shelter, but also because the location afforded him a better view of the entrance to the mine. As time went on, he became more concerned for his friends and surer that Vin was in serious trouble. He'd only gotten a brief look at the tracker when he'd appeared at the entrance, but he knew from the way the man was hunched over that he'd been injured. Nathan thought he saw blood on his leg, too, and even in the gray light, he could tell that Vin was white as a sheet. He probably hadn't had any water, either, and the air in that place couldn't be good. The more he thought on it, the more certain he was that they needed to find Tanner now
Somewhere in Ezra's pain-clouded mind, he was having similar thoughts. He opened his eyes and squinted against the light that filtered through the leaves of the trees above him. He had only a vague recollection of what had happened, but remembered the urgency of the situation. Groaning thickly as he tried to sit up, he was surprised to see Nathan immediately in front of him. By the dark-skinned man's serious expression, he assumed he had suffered more than just a tumble down a hill. That would explain why he felt so wretched.
"Easy, Ezra. Just lay back down now. You ain't goin' nowhere."
Nathan's voice was soft, gentle, kind – the tone he used when one of them was hurt badly. Really badly. But he'd think on that later, after he found out what happened to Vin.
"Is Vin . . . out?" he questioned, surprised at how weak his voice sounded.
Nathan avoided his eyes, as he answered – another bad sign. "No. The other gunman took ‘im back inside the mine. Buck and Chris went after ‘im."
"Other. . . gunman?"
"Yeah. The one you were talking to is dead."
Ezra couldn't say he was sorry about that. But he was sorry he had failed – dreadfully sorry. Vin was still being held captive, and in that terrible, dark place once again. He groaned once more, the agony of his wounds a distant second to the agony of his failure.
Nathan misread his patient's misery, and offered comfort the only way he knew how. "Here, Ezra, take some water and let me give y' somethin' for the pain."
Ezra figured the only thing that would help him right now would be to see Vin alive and well . . . or at least a reasonable facsimile of being well . . . or with the hope that he would be well again, and soon. He realized he was rambling, and as he swallowed whatever concoction Nathan had poured down his throat, he noted that the good doctor was appearing a bit fuzzy around the edges. He couldn't let go just yet, though - there was something important he needed to say. Something about the money . . .
Nathan watched as his patient's eyes fluttered closed, and he was about to turn away, when Ezra suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm. The gambler's eyes were unfocused, but he was obviously fighting hard to stay awake long enough to tell Nathan something.
"What is it, Ezra?"
Ezra wanted to tell him that he'd hid the money. That he intended to lead the outlaw to it. That he would never do anything to harm one of his friends. But all he managed was to croak, "Didn't . . . hold . . .out."
Nathan had no idea what that was all about, but he was more than used to the delusional ramblings of a sick man. He patted the con man's good shoulder, and soothed him. "Yeah, I know. It's all right now. You go on and rest."
Ezra did the only thing he could right then – he closed his eyes. Maybe when he awoke, Vin would be back, and everything would be fine. He held that thought as he slipped into the darkness once again.
+ + + + + + +
Darkness was all he knew. Was all he had known, for a lifetime, it seemed. Darkness and pain and fear. Images began to swirl in his mind . . . a man with long hair and a rifle . . . a paper and pencil . . . Ezra . . . the glint of the sun on a weapon . . . Ezra . . . Chris's face . . . Chris's eyes.
Chris would find him.
Dead.
It would kill Larabee to find him that way. He saw how the blond had looked at him when Roy forced him back into this prison. Chris still hadn't made his peace with losing his family – now he'd have new grief and guilt to add to the burden.
He could die right now. He was sure of it. All he had to do was let go, and it would all be over. For him. But he owed Larabee better than that – more than that. He had to at least try.
He'd start by moving something, anything. He figured batting his eyelashes didn't count – much. A finger might be a good place to start. To his utter dismay, Vin found that he could move his finger, his entire left hand, in fact. In the struggle or the fall, his hands had finally been freed. But he soon realized that his right arm lay twisted and trapped awkwardly behind his back. He must be lying partially on his right side.
Gingerly, he attempted to roll over a little more onto his side. He held back the scream of pain that sliced through him with the effort – then wondered why he'd bothered. There was absolutely no one near to watch him be stoic. And a little screaming might be a very good thing. Unfortunately, making any sound at all required a whole lot more energy than he could afford at the moment.
Groaning softly as he flexed stiff fingers, he slowly and deliberately moved his left hand to the stony ground on which he lay. Maybe he could get enough leverage to at least free his trapped arm. When his hand hit the rough earth, a chunk of ground gave way. Vin listened as the rock tumbled for several seconds before the sound was swallowed into the hole below him. No wonder he'd not heard a sound from Roy. The cavern, or whatever lay beneath him, was a long way down. A hell of a long way down.
Running his hand carefully along the ledge, he remained strangely calm as he noted the narrow space on which his body rested. There was no room for him to turn onto his back or his stomach. There was no room for him to move period. And the ledge on which he lay could not exactly be considered stable. He was completely, absolutely, totally helpless.
And thirsty. God, he was just so thirsty.
The moments of clarity gave way to visions of ponds and waterfalls and rivers. He loved rivers. Loved the sound and the smell and the life that they represented. He felt himself in the cool water now – felt himself being pulled under into its murky depths. But he didn't care. Chris would find him, one way or another. In time – or not. Either way, he'd leave this place.
Chris wouldn't leave this mountain without him.
+ + + + + + +
Chris Larabee forged through the black caverns with single-minded purpose. He ignored the mounting pressure that pounded just behind his eyes. He ignored the gnawing pain in his stomach and the heaviness in his muscles that reminded him he hadn't eaten or slept in too long. More than that, he ignored the insistent little voice that kept telling him something was very wrong – that he should have seen, heard, felt something by now.
As he entered one black tunnel after another, he marked it off on the map. He had only one more to search, before he'd need to head back and meet with Buck and JD. He could only pray they'd had more luck than he had. Maybe he'd find them all waiting at the entrance for him - Vin wearing that cocky grin that asked, "What took y' so long, Cowboy?"
Yeah, and maybe Buck would give up women, and Ezra give up gambling and maybe all of this worry and stress had made him just plain delusional. How the hell did he let himself get so wrapped up in these men? The gnawing pain in his stomach didn't just come from hunger. It came every time one of his friends was in danger or hurt; every time they faced down stupid men with deadly weapons; every time a stranger in town looked a little too closely at Vin.
Where are you, Vin?
Chris paused for a moment, letting the lantern drop to his side as he did so. Something looked different here - felt different here. The shadows no longer bounced off the rock walls beside or ahead of him. It was as if there was nothing but space before him, an empty blackness.
Stooping lower to the ground, he pushed the lantern a few feet ahead of him, and soon realized that there was nothing but space there. He was merely a few feet from a dangerous precipice. Chester hadn't put that on the map, he was sure. The old man hadn't mentioned it either. Had he forgotten? Or had the ground given way in recent years? For the first time, Chris doubted the validity of the map he followed. What if Chester had forgotten something else? He could have been killed, had he went ahead without caution.
Oh God, anyone could have been killed had they went ahead without realizing that a gaping hole lay before them.
Settling gently onto his knees, Chris leaned forward enough to hold the lantern over the chasm. The light spread only a few feet in each direction, not nearly enough for him to see where the space began or ended. He rose to his feet, and cautiously began to make his way around the edge, before coming to an abrupt halt when the trail ended with a quick drop-off. Once again, he shifted himself closer to the ground and lowered the lantern. Still, the light was insufficient to give him a true picture of the situation. He took a loose piece of shale and flung it over the edge, waiting to hear when it hit bottom. The answer escalated the gnawing in his stomach into a burning inferno. If Vin and the outlaw had went this way . . .
No, Vin hadn't come this way. He wasn't lying in broken heap at the bottom of an endless black hole. They just needed to keep looking.
Rising on unsteady legs, he turned and headed back towards the entrance. He'd meet up with Buck and JD, and check on Ezra. Then he'd start again.
+ + + + + + +
A pale, yellow light shone through the murky darkness where Vin lay. He thought at first that it was a star, or maybe the moon. Or it could be morning. He should get up then. But the light disappeared as quickly as it came, and he slipped back into the blackness, without remembering why it mattered.
+ + + + + + +
Nathan looked up from where he tended the still delirious gambler, to see Buck and JD straggle wearily from the mine. As relieved as he was to see them, he knew immediately by their despondent faces that the search had not gone well.
Buck crouched down next to the healer, his eyes on the form of his injured friend. "He gonna make it?" he asked solemnly.
"Looks like it," Nathan answered, with questions in his eyes. What happened? Where were the others?
JD felt the tightness in his chest ease up just a bit at Nathan's reply. He stretched out on the ground under the shade trees, and closed his eyes. He was exhausted and he was scared. Vin had disappeared, and he was really wondering if they would ever find him. Hearing about the old mine from Chester had been a whole lot different than experiencing it. He just couldn't stand the thought of Vin trapped inside that tomb.
Buck stole a look at JD, not even bothering to hide his concern. The kid had become more withdrawn as they made their way through the passages without finding a trace of Vin or the outlaw. He was worried about the youth. He was worried about them all. He turned his gaze to the con man, and without thinking, moved his hand to brush a lock of hair from Ezra's forehead.
Nathan noted the action with some surprise. Buck's generous heart was well known to all, nevertheless, he hadn't expected the gentle reaction to the gambler's current state.
"He really will be all right, Buck. Though I expect seein' Vin when he comes to would help a whole lot. You gonna tell me what happened in there?"
Buck sighed and looked at the healer with sad eyes. "Ain't much t' tell. We've been searchin' all this time, and come up with nothin'. Chris is supposed to meet us here about now. If he hasn't had any more luck than we had . . ." Buck's voice trailed off, leaving the obvious unspoken.
Chris stepped out of the entrance just then, quickly taking in his men at the bottom of the slope. He knew with just a glance that the news was not good, and though he thought he'd prepared himself for that, it still hit him like a solid punch in the gut. Walking on wooden legs towards the small gathering, he worked on shoving his emotions deep inside, on putting the mask in place once more.
It didn't work, though none of the men would ever let Larabee know that. They could read him most times, and never clearer than now. Chris avoided their eyes, turning his gaze to the wounded man instead. Ezra lay pale and bloody, mumbling softly, and the blond was hit with a wave of guilt for ever doubting the man.
Chris swallowed before turning to Nathan, who just barely resisted the urge to look away. Larabee could be a hard man to look in the eye on a good day. When he carried a world of grief and guilt and pain there, it was damn near impossible – the weight pulling hard on those who cared about him. But Nathan had learned from the first day he'd met the gunslinger, that he was more than worth the effort it took to be his friend.
So Nathan met his eyes and offered a bit of relief, "I think he'll be all right. Y' just concentrate on findin' Vin. Let me worry about Ezra."
Chris nodded, grateful to have a man like Jackson among them. He couldn't really imagine what they would do without him, in fact. And if they found Vin, Nathan would set him right, too. No, not if they found Vin – when they found Vin. They would find him, and Nathan would take care of him, and they'd go on back to the way they were. He'd never again take for granted that weird, wonderful thing that the seven of them had become together. He may never stop grieving for the family he'd lost, but he'd never again let it get in the way of what he had here and now.
Buck watched as his friend almost literally pulled himself together and knew when the time had come to speak. "What do we do now, Chris?"
Chris looked at him peculiarly, as if he didn't understand the question, but he answered firmly, "We keep looking."
"Yeah, of course we do. But maybe we need to consider that they got out somehow. Maybe one of us should be lookin' for a trail. Maybe there's another way out we don't even know about."
Chris had considered that possibility himself, especially after finding the cavern that Chester apparently didn't know about or remember. He lowered himself to sit near Buck, motioning for JD to move closer as he did so, and pulled out the map.
Choosing his words carefully, he stated, "I don't think that's what happened, Buck. I think Vin is still inside." He knew the others found the "connection" between him and their tracker strange, to say the least. He couldn't say he was always entirely comfortable with it himself. But no one argued that it existed, and though the signals he was getting now were strained, he still felt that Vin lay somewhere in the mountain.
Once again using his finger to trace a path, he continued, "We'll start searching near the back now. If you don't find anything by nightfall, bring Josiah back with you. We'll divide up again." He added, "And be careful. I came across a deep cavern that wasn't on the map. Damn near killed myself."
Buck turned worried eyes to his old friend, "Chris, you don't think . . ."
Before Buck could finish his sentence, the blond silenced him. "No, I don't think Vin is there."
"But Chris, maybe we should check it out. It just don't seem right that we ain't heard or seen anything after this long, as trigger-happy as that long-haired idiot was," Buck countered softly.
The rogue watched as the blond fought to control his emotions. Chris turned to look at Buck then, and in a low voice he stated, "If Vin's trapped somewhere with that madman, every second counts. If he's in that hole . . ," Chris swallowed and looked away for a moment before continuing, "If he's in that hole, time ain't gonna matter."
Nathan broke the silence that pervaded as the men considered what that meant. "Ain't none of y' goin' back in there without somethin' t' eat and drink first."
JD had to admit that sounded like the best idea yet, but Chris was already half way up the slope. Buck shook his head and grabbed JD by the arm. "Come on, Kid. You can chew on the way."
JD pulled his tired legs out from underneath him and watched the retreating back of their leader. "Is Chris gonna be okay, Buck?"
No way in hell, Buck thought. But he answered, "Sure he is, JD. We're all gonna be just fine."
+ + + + + + +
It was well after nightfall when Chris returned. The other men, Josiah included, sat huddled around a small fire. Ezra had awakened several times, long enough for Nathan to pour more water and laudanum down him, and long enough to puzzle them all with his repeated ramblings about not "holding out on Vin."
As Chris strode over to the group, their quiet conversation ceased. The gunslinger paid no mind to their silence, merely reaching for an extra lantern and rope, before turning to make his way back up the hill.
Josiah stood and took a gentle hold of his arm while asking, "Where are you going, Chris?"
Chris kept his eyes on the entrance, knowing one look at the preacher's compassionate features would disintegrate his carefully maintained control. "To the cavern."
"I expect if Vin's there, you'll be wanting to bring him out," Josiah spoke very softly.
Chris nodded, still averting his now tear-filled eyes.
"You'll be needing some help then," Sanchez offered in a calm, gentle voice that hid the tremble in his heart.
Chris nodded again, before finally turning to face the big man. "Ain't saying I've given up."
"Ain't no one asking you to, Chris."
The tough gunslinger continued on his way then, mindless of the single tear that escaped, and of the men who followed with heavy hearts behind him.
Part 5: Things to Say
They reached the great black hole in total silence. Each lost in his own thoughts, each thinking of Vin in his own way, but all wanting nothing more than to find him alive. Knowing the odds of that decreased with each passing hour - each passing moment, sorrow sat heavily upon them, and every step felt more like ten.
Chris led the way, and in spite of the fact that he'd been there before, he still seemed surprised when they came to the chasm – as if it had all been a dream. The extra lanterns brought to light the reality of the situation however, as the enormity of the opening became clear, although its depth remained a mystery.
Josiah took the lead when Chris stood by uncertainly. Tying a rope to a lantern, the preacher lay on his belly overlooking the drop, and slowly lowered the lantern over the edge.
Chris had the most unreasonable urge to run the other way. And to keep running as far and as fast as he could go. He'd intended to come to this spot, intended to lower that lantern and find out one way or another if Vin had been a victim of nature's trap. Yet he could not bring himself to look.
Even when he heard Buck's soft gasp, "Oh my god."
The lantern gave off little illumination by the time it reached the ground below, but in the shadows, the form of a man could just barely be seen.
Chris could hardly catch his breath and felt his heart exploding from his chest as he took the second rope and began to tie it securely around his waist. Buck grabbed his friend's noticeably shaking hands and said, "Let me do this, Chris."
Larabee was about to explain that he'd gotten Vin into this, and he'd get him out, when JD spoke up, "Uh, guys, I think there's something over here." Dunne's young eyes had spotted a ledge of some sort several feet to the right of where Josiah had lowered his lamp.
The gunslinger ignored the youth as he tightened the rope. They'd found what they came for. But Buck noted the urgency in JD's voice, and he took his lantern to get a better look. Lying flat like Josiah had, he lowered the light as far down as his long arms would reach.
"Chris!" he called excitedly. "Get over here!"
This time, the gunslinger did look up, while Josiah quickly pulled up his lantern and moved it closer to the ledge that JD had found. It was Josiah's turn to gasp as the soft glow from the lamp revealed another body. "It's Vin," he stated softly.
He was there then, lying flat between Buck and Josiah, his eyes straining to see a movement, a twitch, a breath. But as Chris realized the precariousness of Vin's position, he began to pray that the tracker would not so much as flinch. And then it hit him. He was here hours ago. He'd left Vin lay here for hours.
Josiah had risen and was looking for an anchor to tie the other end of the rope to. Finding none, he offered himself. "I'll keep a hold of you, Chris. You go on down and take a look. Buck can back me up."
"Maybe I should go," JD suggested. "I'm lighter."
"No." Three voices spoke simultaneously, with equal firmness. JD had the ridiculous picture of himself as a toothless old man like Chester - still being called "Kid" and still being treated like one.
Chris had already started testing the edges of the hole, looking for a stable place to begin his decent. He'd thought he found one, but the weight of his body knocked loose the surrounding earth and it gave way as he started to lower himself. Losing his footing, he found himself falling faster than planned, hitting the walls of the chasm as he fell and causing more rocky shale to plummet. The entire place was unstable, and he feared his clumsy rescue attempt had endangered Vin even more.
Josiah felt the rope slide through his hands before he was ready, but his quick reflexes kept the gunslinger from landing in a heap next to Roy. Buck grabbed a hold, too, until Sanchez could work himself into a sturdier position, his back braced against the stone walls.
Buck instructed JD, "Take the lantern and lower it as close to Vin as you can so Chris can see. Be careful, we don't need to be dropping any more rocks on his head."
Now JD was getting mad. Did Buck think he was stupid? He squirmed carefully onto his belly and did as he was told. The soft light shone around Tanner's head like a halo. Long hair covered his face, and JD felt strangely glad of that. He didn't know if he could stand to see it. Vin hadn't moved or made a sound as he lay twisted awkwardly on the narrow ledge some ten or twelve feet below. With sudden insight, JD understood why the other men didn't want him to be the one to check on Vin. As much as he'd learned in his time with them, as much as he'd seen, he still was not prepared to reach out and touch the lifeless body of a friend.
Chris knew that he could never be prepared for this. No matter how many loved ones he lost, no matter how many friends he buried along the way, he could never be ready to do it again. And he could never be ready to bury this man, in particular. But there was still hope, and he reminded himself of that as he cautiously maneuvered his body closer to where Vin lay. The earth seemed to crumble wherever he put his hands and feet, and he had the terrible vision of his very touch upsetting the delicate balance that held Vin from the rocky floor so far below. And so, when he finally reached the tracker's side, he hesitated.
"Chris?" Buck questioned as he peered down over the edge, while helping to steady Larabee's rope and keep some of the weight off of Josiah.
As it turned out, he didn't need to touch his friend. He could make out his harsh, labored breathing from where he hung by his side. It sounded like Vin was breathing through sand. But he was breathing. The wonderful truth of that fact nearly took the gunslinger's own breath away. No longer able to resist, he reached out and brushed the hair from the ashen face. Tears filled his eyes once more as he lifted his head and choked, "he's alive."
Never one to hide his emotions, Buck whooped for joy, then sprang into action. "You got Chris?" he asked Josiah.
Josiah was beginning to feel the weight, but he had renewed strength and determination from the two words that Chris had uttered. "I'm fine. Go on and get the other rope."
Wilmington made quick work of obtaining another rope and lowering it to Larabee. Chris grabbed it, but once again worried that moving Vin would cause the entire shelf to crumble. He was still considering where and how to tie it, when he felt a penetrating gaze upon him. He turned to see Vin's wide blue eyes trying hard to focus. Tanner's dry, cracked lips moved, but it was clear that his efforts to speak were undermined by his struggle to breathe. Chris hurried to calm him, reaching over again to gently rub a hand across his cheek.
"Hey Pard," he said softly. "Got yourself in a mess here. But don't worry, we're gonna get you out." He gave his injured friend a small smile, although he didn't believe the tracker really saw him.
Vin was under water, but he could see Chris through the haze. Could see him hovering close in some strange way that didn't quite make sense. He wanted to talk to him, wanted to tell him to please get him out; to please God, give him a drink. He tried to speak, but the water fell into his lungs and he couldn't catch his breath. Then he felt someone lift him up, felt his back break in two and his ribs catch on fire and he wanted to scream, but he couldn't do that, either. And just like that, just that quick, he knew where he was again. Knew he was in that terrible black place, clinging for dear life on a tiny wedge of loose dirt.
But this time, finally, Chris was with him.
Chris winced when he lifted Vin's upper body just enough to slide the rope underneath. He knew he'd hurt Tanner, knew it without the tracker making a sound, and it almost made him wish their connection were not so strong. In the same way, he knew that Vin was with him now, that he realized where he was and what Chris was trying to do – and that he was frightened by it.
Vin was afraid. Afraid for himself, yes, but even more for Chris and whoever held the other end of the ropes. He couldn't think of a single part of his body that was working right, and he knew he'd be dead weight – no help at all. He and Chris and whoever tried to haul them up, could well end up on top of each other at the bottom of this pit.
"It's gonna be all right, Vin. You just let us do all the work." At the look of doubt the tracker flashed him, Chris continued, "You trust us, don't you? We're just gonna get you off this piece of rock and back home where you belong. Understand?"
His answer was a nod so slight that anyone else would have missed it. The two men locked gazes for a long moment, both acknowledging a mutual trust, as well as the need to set things right, to get things said.
But Buck broke the spell when he called, "Chris? Is Vin secure?"
Reluctant to break contact with Vin, yet mindful of the burden he was placing on Josiah, he answered, "Yeah. We're ready to go. How we gonna do this?"
"Me and JD will pull Vin on up first. You think you can get ‘im started?"
Chris sighed as he looked over at the injured man. "Time to go, Pard," he spoke softly, then added apologetically, "I reckon its gonna hurt some."
He thought he saw the briefest of smiles cross Vin's face, before he reached down to pull him into a sitting position. The simple action elicited the first sound he'd heard from his friend, a low groan, as his trapped right arm was pulled from beneath him. Before he could further react, the ledge on which Tanner had rested finally gave way, the minimal movement just enough to cause the weakened structure to cave in. For a few terrifying moments, Vin fell, until the rope became taut, and he swung freely in the air.
Chris grabbed hold of Vin's arm as he began to plummet, once again apologizing under his breath to Josiah, but the tracker still slid several feet down before Buck and JD gained control of the drop. Now both men swayed against the stone canyon, their friends clinging determinedly to their lifelines.
Vin tried to move his arms and hold onto the rope, but as it bit into his bruised chest, all of his energy was consumed in fighting for every breath. He couldn't remember ever hurting so much, or working so hard just to stay alive, but to die now would be just plain stupid. He felt a lurch as someone, maybe Buck or Josiah, began pulling him up. Chris tried to keep his body from banging against the wall, but still a wave of new pains overlapped the old ones until blackness threatened again, and he realized he might not have a choice about the dying issue, after all.
Chris struggled to keep one hand on his rope and the other on Tanner, while using his legs to help push himself up the rough wall. Vin made one small, heartbreaking whimper, before succumbing to unconsciousness again. The blond knew he should be grateful that his best friend would miss the agony of being pulled up and over the edge, but it scared him. He wouldn't rest easy until Nathan's eyes said that Vin would be fine.
The three men controlling the ropes fought the initial panic that arose when the shelf gave way, and soon came to the conclusion that they needed to work together. Within minutes, they'd found their rhythm. Buck and JD would move Vin a few feet, then Josiah would move Chris. The preacher's strong arms were shaking with the effort, but he knew he still had enough in him to finish the job.
Buck never ceased to be amazed at JD, and now was no exception. The kid was more than pulling his share of the weight, his face red with the exertion, but his eyes shining with determination – like Chester's had when he came forward to help them. Buck was reminded again that the feeling of being needed was a powerful thing.
As they finally brought Vin up close to the edge and he got a good look at him, Buck decided Nathan ought to feel like the most powerful man on earth, because it was sure that Vin needed him bad.
+ + + + + + +
Nathan paced nervously around the area where he had made camp, his gaze flickering between the quietly sleeping Ezra and the entrance to the mine. Enough time had passed that he figured they must have found something. When he finally heard footsteps, he nearly leapt up the slope, his heart in his throat. Chris came out first, his weary features drawn and devoid of emotion. He waited with bated breath as Josiah came next, carrying Vin's limp body in his arms. Josiah looked his friend in the eye, and Nathan clearly understood the message there. Tanner was alive, but not good, and they'd be looking to him to set things right once again.
Josiah thought his arms might break before he could release his burden. He'd insisted on carrying Vin, practically having to fight off Chris and Buck for the privilege. Larabee was just too spent, emotionally and physically, and he figured Buck could do better at keeping an eye on both the gunslinger and JD. Sanchez was exhausted, as well, the strain of the last few days making itself known, but he would have carried Vin a mile if he needed to.
Very gently the big man laid his friend on the ground. Vin's head lolled to one side and his limbs splayed out loosely on the packed soil. He remained there so quiet and so still that Nathan wondered if he hadn't mistaken Josiah's message, if maybe the man was already dead after all. But as he crouched lower to the ground, he could make out the sound of labored breathing, and he knew he needed to work quickly.
Vin's shirt was still open from that first night, the evidence of his abuse clear for all to see. No doubt the man was black and blue from head to toe. Nathan was right about the leg wound, too, but one look at Tanner's face told the healer where the real urgency lie. Vin's eyes were sunken, his lips bleeding, his skin sallow. If they didn't get water into the tracker soon, his other wounds wouldn't matter.
Chris saw it, too, and he lowered his head as he thought of how many hours Vin laid on that ledge, hurt with no water. Buck had tried to tell him that they should check out the cavern, but he'd argued with him. He remembered telling Buck that time wouldn't matter if Vin were in that hole. But time mattered a whole hell of a lot when a man was bone dry and hurting.
He was startled when he heard Josiah's soft voice in his ear, "Don't do this, Chris. There's plenty of time later to think on what went wrong. Vin needs you now."
Larabee nodded slowly then grabbed Sanchez by the arm as the big man turned away. "Thank you for what you did back there, Josiah."
The preacher grinned, "We all got our gifts. The Lord blessed me with the strength of an ox, and it wouldn't do for me not to put it to good use – especially when it comes to helping a friend." Josiah paused a minute before adding, "He blessed you, too, Chris."
Chris looked at him skeptically as the preacher continued, "He blessed you with the stubbornness of a mule. Reckon our brother could use a little of that right now."
The tough gunslinger had to smile a bit at that. As he squatted next to his fallen partner, he knew exactly how to put his "blessing" to good use - he'd get water down Tanner one way or another.
Nathan had propped Vin up on a bed roll to ease the strain on his lungs, and was trying his best to dribble the precious liquid into slack lips.
"I'll work on this, Nathan. You go ahead and tend to . . ." Chris paused as he looked at Tanner's numerous injuries, "the rest of him."
After marveling that the blond actually got the unconscious tracker to swallow a few sips, Nathan proceeded to do as Chris had asked. It didn't take long to determine that Vin's arm was broken, as well as a few of his ribs. The leg wound wasn't deep, but left untreated, infection had started to set in. He hoped that the breathing problems were due to bad air combined with pain from the ribs, and not something more serious. Chris seemed to take it all in stride, assisting Jackson however he could, without comment. Oddly enough, it was the raw marks on Tanner's wrists that obviously bothered Larabee the most, and Nathan suspected there was a reason for that.
"You want t' talk about it?" Nathan questioned the reclusive gunman.
Chris finally looked away from Vin and glanced around him. Buck and JD had spread out several feet from the camp and were fast asleep. Josiah had stayed up, offering to help, but by his soft snore, he'd obviously dozed off where he sat propped against a tree stump. Chris turned over Vin's bandaged wrists in his hands, and looked over at Nathan.
"He hates being caged. I just can't stand thinking about him being tied up like an animal – stuck in that hell hole. Why didn't he just tell them he wasn't me?"
Nathan smiled and said, "You know why."
He did know, but it didn't make it any easier to accept.
Nathan reached across Vin to lay a hand on Chris's arm. "They probably would have killed him anyway, you saw how they were."
Chris nodded, then added sadly, "Its just . . . its just that there's things that need to be said." He paused and looked at Nathan, his soul lying wide open, "I have things to say."
Jackson, humbled by Larabee's trust, offered him the hope he longed for, "Reckon you'll get the chance." Having heard the earlier conversation with Josiah, he added, "Reckon you ain't the only one been ‘blessed' with bein' stubborn."
Several hours later, in the deepest part of another dark night, Vin opened his eyes. Although Chris and Nathan lay lightly sleeping on either side of him, he was unaware of their presence. Seeing only the blackness, he panicked that he was again trapped alone in the dark cave.
Chris heard the change in breathing of the man next to him – heard Vin's sharp gasp and the rapid panting that followed. He sat up quickly and pulled the lantern closer to where the sharpshooter lay. The light illuminated the sick man's face, and Chris watched as Vin's eyes darted in confusion.
"Take it easy, Vin," he whispered. "I'm right here. You're all right."
Vin's gaze slowly drifted across Larabee's face, and tears of relief filled his eyes. As his breathing slowed, he began to cough, and Chris reached for the canteen. Vin had experienced enough in his short life to genuinely appreciate a good drink of water – but it had never meant so much or tasted so good as this one did. Chris smiled at the look of pure bliss that blanketed Vin's face, and let him drink his fill – uncaring if it came back at him later.
Easing his friend back down on the bed roll, he noted that Tanner was shivering, in spite of the muggy air, and he reached over to pull the blanket up a bit higher. "Go on back to sleep. It will be morning soon," Chris said.
But Vin shook his head. "Ezra?" he asked, relieved that he'd finally been able to form a word.
"He'll be fine, too. Probably make us all crazy first, but he'll be back to his usual annoying self in no time."
Vin gave the gunfighter a half smile as he rasped, "You . . .like ‘im."
Chris raised an eyebrow in mock indignation, then grinned. "Yeah, well don't ever let him know it. He'll be more impossible to live with than he is now."
Vin wanted to laugh, but the agony from his injuries reasserted itself, and he heard himself groaning instead.
Chris grew serious and asked, "Do you want me to wake Nathan?"
Again Vin shook his head. "Kinda like . . .it bein' . . . just you n' me . . . fer awhile."
Larabee nodded, "All right then." He held Vin's gaze, seeing more than just pain there. Vin had things needing to be said, too. Chris was about to get it all out in the open, when Tanner grimaced and reached out for the blond.
Nathan had feigned sleep as he allowed the men their time together, but when Vin's soft moans persisted, he sprang up. As fired up as these two were to work out whatever was going on between them, it would have to wait.
Vin had a white-knuckled grip on Chris's hand, and Nathan immediately reached for the laudanum. Tanner accepted the potion without complaint, although it was clear he regretted the lost opportunity to talk with Larabee. Within minutes, though, his mind grew foggy again, and he forgot what had been so important for him to tell the gunslinger.
Chris waited until Vin had dropped off into a restless sleep, then said worriedly, "He doesn't look good, Nathan."
"Probably ‘cause he ain't good," Nathan replied. Before he could offer some reassurance, he heard another weak voice.
"Who . . . isn't good?" Ezra had awakened to soft voices, but had been unable to determine just what was going on. His shoulder hurt so much that he couldn't find the words to express it, that in itself an alarming problem.
Chris moved over to the gambler's side, feeling the need to spend a few moments with the man who had risked his neck for Vin. "How are you feeling, Ezra?"
Standish thought on that a minute. There was a word out there to describe this - it was just out of his reach. Well, how did he feel? Ah, yes, there it was – the word to clearly define his current physical condition. "Abominable," he stated.
Chris couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. Leave it to Ezra to use a five dollar word like "abominable" when he was lying half dead in the dirt. The others would have said something along the lines of "like shit", except for Vin, who would have said, "fine". Of course, he himself would have ignored the question altogether.
"Who isn't good, Mr. Larabee?" the gambler repeated.
"Vin."
Ezra couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him. If Chris and Nathan were discussing their tracker, than said tracker must be accounted for. While "not good" was truly not good, it was a far sight better than still being lost, or even worse, being dead. He didn't think he could ever forgive himself if either one of those situations had come to play. Which reminded him, he intended to apologize for his mishandling of the previous events, but he was stopped before he could begin by the gunman.
"Can't thank you enough for what you tried to do, Ezra. I know it didn't work out the way we planned, but it wasn't your fault."
"Yes, but I . . . the gunmen didn't . . . and Vin wasn't . . ." Ezra stammered before giving up with a sigh.
Chris smiled again. "Get some rest. We're gonna try to get you and Vin back to town in the morning."
That had to be the most splendid idea he'd heard in some time. The gambler allowed Nathan and Chris to fuss over him a bit, since they seemed to have the strange notion that he deserved such attention, before giving in to his body's need for rest. But before closing his eyes, he stole a glance at Vin. ‘Not good' appeared to be an apt description of their friend, but Ezra felt his heart lift just knowing Tanner was back with them.
+ + + + + + +
JD took another swallow of his beer and pushed himself further down in his chair. Maybe if he made himself smaller, Chester wouldn't see him. He just knew if he had to listen to the old guy say one more time how he'd kept the seven from becoming the six, he'd – well, he didn't know what he'd do. But it wouldn't be nice, that was sure. It was all Chester talked about since they'd ridden into town two days before. No one even mentioned to the geezer that he'd forgotten one enormous hole. JD wanted to tell him, but the others acted like that whole part of the story didn't even happen, and he got the distinct impression that he'd be real sorry if he were the one to spill the beans to the old man.
Great, he was heading right for him. He wished Vin would get better quick so Chester could bother Chris for awhile. It didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon, though. The ride back to town had been rough on him. Then again, it had been rough on them all, with Ezra griping the whole way. JD had wanted so badly to tell the gambler to shut up already, but Chris had shot him such a glare, that he'd just pulled his horse further ahead so he wouldn't have to hear it.
Since then, Standish had quieted right down. JD figured it was because he knew Vin needed Nathan's attention. He'd tried to see Vin a few times, but Nathan had shooed him away, saying the tracker wasn't good. JD wondered how bad "not good" was, but he didn't ask.
Chester had arrived, and he called out good-naturedly to the youth, "Hey there, Kid. How y' doin?"
JD sighed, rolled his eyes, and bit his tongue. Or at least he intended to bite his tongue, but instead he spit out, "Why does everyone in this town have to call me Kid?"
The old man chuckled. "Hell, Son, everyone in this town is a kid compared to me."
"Yeah, but you don't call them all that. Bet you'd never call Chris Larabee a kid."
Chester looked thoughtful as he said, "Are you thinkin' bein' called Kid is a bad thing?"
"It's not the calling I mind, it's the treating," JD replied.
"Yep, I sure do understand that. I ever tell you about the men I worked with up in that mine?"
Here we go again, JD thought. Maybe if he ignored him, he'd go away.
"Best group of pards you could ever ask for. Reminds me of you and yer friends. I was the youngest, and they all called me ‘Kid'. They was always lookin' out fer me. ‘Bout drove me crazy sometimes." Chester smiled wistfully before continuing. "They's all gone now, of course. Sure do miss ‘em. Some days, I hear yer pards call you ‘Kid', and I turn fer a minute. Some days, I'd give my life to be ‘Kid' again."
Chester gave JD a pat on the back and turned to leave.
"Chester, wait," JD said. "Thank you for helping us out – we couldn't have done it without you."
The old man's toothless grin lit up his face as JD went on. "And I'm real proud to be a Kid - like you."
+ + + + + + +
Nathan was a patient man, but he swore if he had to watch Chris Larabee pace the confines of the small clinic one more time, he'd say something he was sure to regret. He knew how close the gunman and the tracker were, but it still surprised him that Chris spent so many hours of the last few days at Vin's side. They'd both been hurt in the past, and practically ignored each other – a raised eyebrow, a nod, and off they'd go with their business. Of course, neither one could stand a lot of fussing over, preferring to crawl off and lick their wounds in private.
This time was different, though, in part because of the seriousness of the situation, and partly because the gunslinger was carrying a hefty load of guilt. Nathan hadn't figured out what exactly was eating at Chris, but he hoped the man would get the chance to get it off his chest soon, before he wore a hole in the floor.
The healer rose from his chair with a deep sigh. Vin was getting restless again, and he'd need to get the laudanum ready. As nervous as Larabee made him with his constant fidgeting, Nathan had to admit he was glad he was here. While Vin's breathing had gradually improved, he'd been fighting delirium and fever, and only Chris's soft voice seemed to calm him.
Chris didn't know how many nightmares he'd soothed Vin through. Sometimes, the younger man's whimpers were almost child-like, and the blond felt certain his friend was reliving moments that had occurred long before the last few days. He might ask Vin about it, if he was ever with it long enough to have a conversation.
Chris groaned in frustration. Tanner just wasn't snapping back the way he'd hoped. Nathan kept telling him to be patient, but he could tell that the healer was concerned, as well. Besides that, all the things he longed to talk with Vin about were weighing heavy on his heart. He sensed that Vin felt the same, and that his struggles to keep a clear head were wearing on him almost as much as the pain from his injuries.
Vin moaned softly as he fought to raise himself from the black hole once more. Lord, he just wanted to wake up and feel good and know where the hell he was. He seemed to be existing in an eternal state of darkness and confusion – trapped in cold, dark, airless places where people wanted only to hurt him. Then, just when he thought it was hopeless and he should give in, he'd hear Chris's calm voice, reminding him that he was safe. He wanted to go to that voice, but just when he'd find it – find him – Nathan would pour more stuff down his throat, and he'd be lost again. How was he ever going to talk with Chris if he kept losing himself? Nathan needed to stop that. He'd tell him. He'd tell him now.
Vin slowly opened his eyes and noted that, sure enough, Nathan stood nearby preparing to doctor him up again. He rasped, "Don't be . . . givin' me nothin' . . . Nathan."
Nathan raised his eyebrows from where he stood at the foot of Tanner's bed. "Just tryin' to keep you alive, Vin. And keep you from hurtin' too bad."
"Yer keepin' me . . . in that hole," Vin said, as though it made perfect sense.
Jackson threw a puzzled glance to Larabee, only to see by the look on his face, that it was very clear to him.
"You don't have to take anything you don't want, Pard," the gunslinger said tenderly.
This time Nathan raised an eyebrow at Chris. Vin was still sick and still hurting and he needed to rest and he wasn't going to be able to do that without a little help.
The gunman understood the healer's frustration, but he understood his friend's even better. "He'll be all right, Nathan. I'll see to him."
Jackson remembered that both men had something burning in them they'd been wanting to say for days now. He figured he'd let them have their way – for now. They could have their little chat, but then he'd be back to talk some sense into them. "Reckon I'll just go on and check on Ezra then," he mumbled. As he headed out the door, he added under his breath, "bein' stubborn ain't no blessin' in my book."
"You with me now, Vin?" Chris asked, although he could see by his eyes that he was.
Vin nodded, then looked longingly at the water on the nearby stand. Chris poured him a cup, and put an arm under his shoulders to steady him while he drank. The fact that his friend was still so weak worried him, and he wondered if he'd done the right thing with Nathan.
Vin offered a feeble, "Thanks," as the blond lowered him back onto the pillow. Everything hurt, but he did his best to hide that fact for fear of Chris changing his mind and going after Nathan. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, relishing even the stale air of the clinic, and tried to clear his mind. He was ready to do some talking, but when he peered back up at his friend, he realized Chris intended to go first.
Chris looked down for a moment, then looked his best friend in the eye. "I don't care that you can't read, Vin."
"I know." Vin paused a minute before adding, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."
"I know."
As they held each other's gaze, they realized they knew a whole lot of other things, too. They knew they that they understood each other better than anyone ever had in their lives. They knew that the trust and affection they felt for one another went way beyond friendship. They knew that they would always be there to watch each other's back, and if necessary, to die for each other. They knew there was no need for guilt or regrets or apologies.
And they knew there was no need to talk, after all.
Nathan suddenly burst through the door, apologizing as he entered, "I'm sorry to interrupt y'all, but I forgot to get Ezra's lineament and he's fussin' somethin' fierce, you know how that is. I'll just be a minute, and I'll leave y' alone."
Chris shrugged. "No hurry, Nathan. We said all we need to say."
Nathan looked at the two men incredulously. He'd only been gone a few minutes. He smiled as he shook his head. Vin had already drifted off to sleep, and Chris had propped his feet on the edge of the bed with a contented sigh. Nathan had the feeling that Vin would be on his feet again soon, and all would be well with the world - or at least, their little corner of it.
+ + + + + + +
Ezra could not believe what he was hearing. "What do you mean, you never even thought about it?"
Buck shrugged. "Just what I said. Never gave it a thought. How about you, JD?"
JD's shrug matched Buck's. "Me neither."
Good Lord, he was running with an entire band of Robin Hoods. Not one of them cared a miniscule about money. Of course, it was his money in question, but still, shouldn't at least one of them have wondered where the five hundred dollars had gone? He'd approached Nathan first, since he'd been forced to spend a good deal of time with the man, thanks to his unfortunate injury. Jackson had looked irritated and stated he was too busy saving his life to worry about where he'd put the bills.
When Josiah came in to see him, he told him of his ingenious plan to lure the kidnappers over to where he'd hidden the ransom. He then asked if, perchance, the big man had considered where the ransom had gone, and did he have any knowledge of the money being retrieved? The preacher knew nothing about it, but was overtly interested in Ezra's choice of hiding places. Before he knew it, the gambler was subjected to a dissertation on the Biblical importance of rocks.
Larabee had been far too busy with Vin to pay attention to such a "trivial" matter as the whereabouts of five hundred dollars. Besides, Ezra hadn't been exactly anxious to share his plan with the gunman, since it didn't go – as planned. No, he'd just let the matter ride, and as soon as he could manage it, he'd go recover his investment himself. Surely no one would come across it, surely it would still be there. He was still stewing on that thought when Chris and a pale, but reasonably upright, Vin approached the table where he sat with Buck and JD.
Vin limped and leaned considerably against the gunman, but the men made no mention of it, knowing the tracker would be uneasy with the added attention. Buck did reach over and pull out a chair, as Chris eased the injured man into it. Not unexpectedly, Nathan was close behind, and all could see that he was not entirely comfortable with Vin's decision to leave the clinic. Josiah came in about then, and as he pulled up a chair, he grinned widely.
Chris asked him, "You look like the cat that swallowed the canary, Josiah. Something going on we don't know about?"
Josiah shook his head. "Not at all. Just ain't nothin' better than being whole again," he said as he looked around the table, his gaze resting on Vin.
Vin smiled, thinking he couldn't have said it better himself, then cleared his throat. "Want t' thank y'all for what y' did . . . ‘specially you, Ezra."
Ezra actually blushed and stammered, "No trouble . . . at all, Mr. Tanner. I assure you." He still hadn't figured out how he'd managed to be the hero in all of this when he'd bungled his role so badly.
JD asked, "Chris, did you ever figure out who those guys were?"
Chris answered, "Vin filled me in on a few things. I killed their pa several years ago. He was a trigger-happy, hot head without a lick of sense."
"Obviously the fruit did not fall far from the tree," Ezra observed.
"Stupidity combined with greed often leads to disaster," Josiah added.
Chris had a twinkle in his eye as he said, "By the way, Ezra, been meaning to give you this." The gunman reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills.
Ezra's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Why Mr. Larabee . . . Chris . . . how did you . . . when did you . . .?"
Larabee grinned, enjoying his new found ability to leave Standish speechless. He responded to the gambler in his usual pointed way. "Saw you putting something in those rocks. Figured out later what you were trying to do."
Ezra felt the emotion wash over him – Chris had trusted him. And thank God, he even got his money for him, although he might have offered that information sooner. No matter, the important thing was that his funds, as well as his associates, were all accounted for once again. "I thank you for your trouble, Mr. Larabee." Ezra offered sincerely.
Chris grinned again. Did Standish really think he would have just left it there? "Well damn, Ezra, leaving five hundred dollars laying under a rock would be kind of . . . stupid, don't you think?"
Then he added softly, "And there ain't no stupid men at this table."
Vin looked thoughtfully into the drink that Buck had slyly slid to him under Nathan's disapproving eye. Knowing he had the respect and acceptance of these men meant more than they could ever know. Looking up to meet Chris's gaze, he smiled. Chris knew exactly how much it meant to him. Whether or not he ever got the hang of making a proper ‘B', he'd never be that dumb, little kid again.
END