This beautiful artwork is by GAYLE
The echoes of the gun battle ricocheted along the main street, fading slowly to a final silence. Nothing stirred in the sweltering heat of the late afternoon sun. Several bodies lay in the dust, huddled heaps of dark clothing, arms and legs flung out at odd angles declaring that their interest in this life was over.
A long, thin shadow stretched across the dirt from the feet of the one gunman still standing. Chris Larabee stared stonily at the corpses, a bead of sweat running down the side of his hard face. Clenching his jaw, he slowly swung his gaze to one side, and the injured young man lying on his back three feet away. A grimace of some terrible emotion swept fleetingly across his face and was gone.
"Nathan," he shouted harshly.
A tall black man hurried down the street. "Here."
Glaring down at the slim figure attempting to rise to its feet, Chris waved an arm towards him as he turned to Nathan. "See to this foo-" He stopped abruptly and took a deep breath. "Vin took one in the arm. Patch him up."
As Nathan knelt down beside his patient, several other figures appeared from the surrounding buildings and alleys, all holstering various weapons. Two tall men moved slowly between the corpses littering the street, one eventually calling out: "All dead."
Chris Larabee nodded an acknowledgment to Buck Wilmington but said nothing, his jaw firmly clamped shut as though encased in iron.
"Well, Mister Larabee, I believe that Four Corners will no longer be suffering the unwanted attentions of the Mason gang, though, I declare, these men were persistent unto death."
Ezra Standish took in the glacial expression on Chris Larabee's face and prudently moved over to Nathan's side.
Looking down at the injured man, he smiled as the patient gave a quiet yelp. "And you, Mister Tanner," he wagged a neatly-manicured finger, "you must surely have acquired the most tenacious guardian angel in heaven. Never before have I seen such foolhardy behavior by a man still living at its conclusion."
Vin Tanner made no effort to reply. His face expressionless, he allowed Nathan to assist him to his feet, one hand clasped around the small bandage on his arm.
Ezra brushed his lapels and turned as another figure approached. "What do you think of our foolhardy friend, Mister Sanchez?"
Josiah patted Vin lightly on the shoulder. "I thank the Lord that you have been spared, brother," he said in his deep voice. "But Ezra is right. That was a risky -"
"Risky?"
The word burst from Chris Larabee's mouth like a gun shot, silencing the small group of men. His eyes flashing with heated anger, the gunslinger looked as though he was about to explode with rage. Then suddenly there was nothing but a cold, icy expression on his face and he turned away, almost knocking over the young man who had appeared behind him.
"You okay, JD?" Buck steadied his friend.
"What's got Chris all riled up?" JD asked, his ingenuous eyes on the dark figure as it disappeared into the saloon. "You'd think he'd be grateful that Vin saved his life."
In the embarrassed silence that followed, the youngster searched the faces of his companions for some explanation. It was broken by a low, husky voice.
"I don't reckon Chris sees it like that."
Vin slapped the dust off his clothes with his hat before replacing it on his head.
"To be perfectly honest, Mister Tanner, I don't believe any of us saw your impetuous actions in quite the same manner as yourself," Ezra admonished with his usual style.
"Speak for yourself," Buck interrupted the homily. "Vin saved Chris's life as sure as we're all standing here. And I for one want to thank him."
"Yeah, that was the bravest thing I ever saw," JD added enthusiastically. "My heart was plum chokin' me in ma throat when that guy came out behind Chris. I was sure he was a gonna, then when Vin ran across the street and pushed him outta the way, I just about burst. I ain't never seen anything like it. I felt like cheering ma heart out."
Ezra frowned theatrically. "Well, I doubt our illustrious leader will feel like cheering so I should endeavor to curtail your ebullience for the next few days, if I were you."
As JD's face screwed up in an expression of blank incomprehension, Buck slung an arm over the young man's shoulders and began to lead him away. "What Ezra is trying to say," he explained patiently, "is don't go saying nothing like that around Chris or he'll likely shoot you."
"But -"
JD's plaintive voice gradually faded into the distance, Buck's low rumble in counterpoint.
"Pity your bravery meant you caught the bullet intended for Chris," Josiah said sympathetically, his lips curving as he stared into the wide blue eyes.
Vin gave a slight smile. "Reckon I'd have to agree with you there but it's only a scratch. My arm'll be as good as new in a day or two. Shame is that I ran out of bullets. There was nothing else I could do."
Nathan wiped his sleeve over his forehead, dashing away the sweat. "You were darned lucky though, Vin."
"I know it," the tracker replied with a sigh. "But I reckon I'd best keep out of the way for a while if I want to stay that way."
"Amen," replied his three friends with deep feeling.
Sitting in front of the jail several days later, Buck and JD were discussing the chilly atmosphere in Four Corners which, considering the current temperature was in the high nineties, seemed rather incongruous.
"...and then he almost hit Ezra!" JD exclaimed agitatedly. "Chris is losing it, Buck. He's turned on Nathan, you, even Josiah. He's like a bear with a sore butt, and I don't know what's gonna happen next."
Waving a hand in the direction of the young man who had just come out of the hardware store and was leaning comfortably against a hitching rail, his hat dipped low to shade his eyes from the lowering sun, JD went on. "I thought Chris was mad at Vin, but he's the only one he hasn't picked a fight with."
Buck patted his young friend soothingly on the arm. "Bide your time, pard. Ain't nothing to worry about. Chris is just having trouble with a personal problem. It may take a while but he'll work it out."
"Care to place a bet on how long that will take, Mister Wilmington?"
Ezra's calm voice announcing his presence, the elegant man stepped onto the porch and seated himself in an empty chair.
Buck met the serene expression in the gambler's eyes and frowned slightly. Then a look of comprehension dawned and he narrowed his eyes calculatingly.
"Five bucks says five days," he wagered, a grin widened his lips.
"Done," agreed the other man happily, holding out a hand. "I cannot see this situation lasting more than two, myself."
"What are you two talkin' about?" asked JD, watching the two men shake on their deal. "What situation?"
Not entirely ignoring the young man, Ezra leaned back and tipped his hat over his face. "Seems to me that things are going to get very interesting in the near future, Mister Dunne. I should keep your eyes on the rich pageant of life as it unfolds on the dusty street before you."
Before JD's exasperation could get the better of him, Buck reached over and squeezed his arm reassuringly. "Settle down, pard, and just watch."
Left with no alternative, and no idea what was happening, JD slid down in his seat, grumbling under his breath. His gaze fixed on the sun-baked buildings across the street, he sighed. The only things he could see were three cowboys leaving the saloon and beginning to weave their way towards the livery stables at the other end of town.
It was then that Chris Larabee walked out of the rooming house and stopped to light a cheroot.
One of the cowboys, Jed Watson, noticed Vin Tanner as he and his companions approached along the boardwalk.
"Now lookee here. If it ain't purty boy," he snickered, throwing an arm around the tracker's shoulders and trying to plant a kiss on his mouth. "You wanna join me and the boys for some fun, Vinny?"
The tracker pushed the cowboy away with a firm but gentle hand, slowly raising his head to stare at the laughing men.
"You bin drinkin' rot gut, Jed?" he asked mildly.
Jed shook his head. "Now why would you be thinkin' that? Cain't a man have a little fun without havin' a drink?"
Still slouched in position against the hitching rail, Vin smiled. "Just cain't think of any other reason you'd be actin' like you wanted your fool head blown off."
Shaking with laughter, Jed grabbed hold of Vin, trapping his arms and knocking off his hat. "Tell you a secret," he whispered, alcohol fumes causing Vin to turn his head slightly. "We just finished a fine bottle of whiskey and now I'd like to make your acquaintance in a more private place."
One of his friends tried to pull the drunken cowboy away, but was shrugged off.
"You know I've always liked you," Jed went on. "And you're so purty lookin' you must know what that means."
His hands were snaking beneath Vin's clothing but before the tracker could disentangle himself an icy voice interrupted the ridiculous scene.
"Take your hands off him and face me."
Jed and Vin both turned to see Chris Larabee standing thirty feet away.
Not totally senseless, the other cowboys disappeared in a second.
"Leave him be," Vin sighed with resignation, easily pushing Jed off once more.
Chris flickered a glance at the tracker. "Nope."
Jed was weaving slightly from side to side. "Hey, Mr Larabee, didn't see you there." He smiled fatuously.
Chris pushed his long dark coat behind his holster, his eyes hard. "In your own time, Watson. Draw."
"Chris--" Replacing his hat, Vin pushed himself upright.
"Stay out of this, Vin," the gunslinger interrupted with a low drawl.
The truth of the situation was beginning to dawn on Jed Watson. The smile slid from his lips and his eyes began to take on a rather glassy expression. "Say, have I done somethin' to upset you, Mr Larabee, sir?"
There was no emotion visible on the gunslinger's face. It told anyone who knew him that death was only a moment away. For someone.
"I said draw, Watson."
The silence was deafening. Understanding the danger at last, desperation showed itself in Jed's eyes, and the cowboy broke into a sweat as he stared into the cold face of the man in front of him.
"I...I didn't mean nothing," he stammered frantically. "Was only joshing."
"Draw," Chris repeated flatly, his gaze unblinking, his hands hanging wide of his hips.
Jed looked wildly from side to side, panic causing his whole body to shake. "I don't wanna do this, for god's sake," he screamed in fear.
"Chris." The chill in Vin's voice caused both men to look at him, and stare. The mare's leg in the tracker's hands was pointed at Chris, and the gunslinger's green eyes widened in disbelief.
Without moving his steady gaze from Chris's face, Vin stepped into the street, speaking softly. "Get outta here, Jed. Now."
The other man needed no more encouragement and he ran down the street as fast as his weakened legs could carry him. Silence returned as the sound of the rapid footsteps dwindled into the distance.
Nothing moved. No breeze softened the heat of the day. The late afternoon sun beat down on the two men now facing each other on the dusty street.
Then Vin dropped his gun.
"You could see he was drunk. That's no reason for a man to die."
Letting the fury in his eyes speak for him Chris made no reply, though the muscles in his jaw were working furiously. Then he moved forward, drew his gun, and fired. Vin's hat flew off his head to hang down his back, but the tracker didn't move an inch. The gun spoke again, this time kicking up dirt at Vin's feet, but he stood his ground unflinching.
As though a dam had finally burst, Chris gave a hoarse cry and, throwing his gun aside, he took large steps, almost running as he charged forward, his fist connecting with Vin's head, knocking the young man several feet before he lost his footing and fell to the ground.
Lying in the street, the tracker made no sound; he just looked up at the angry man towering over him. "Feel better?" he asked dryly, wiping the back of his hand over his bleeding mouth.
"No," Chris ground out, his voice harsh. He pulled Vin to his feet and then hit him again.
Across the street JD gasped as Chris continued to beat Vin, knocking him down then pulling him to his feet just to start all over.
"We gotta stop it," he muttered, thoroughly shaken, pushing himself out of his chair.
However, Buck's meaty hand pulled him back down. "Now don't go interfering where you're not wanted," the older man advised lazily. "This has been a long time comin' and I reckon Chris needs to get it out of his system."
"But what about Vin?" JD cried, unable to take his eyes off the one-sided fight. "He ain't even fighting back."
"Oh, I think you'll find that Mister Tanner knows exactly what he's doing," said Ezra placatingly, whilst holding out a hand in Buck's direction.
Five dollars changed hands, with only a slight grimace from Buck as his interest remained focused on the action before him.
Knocked down next to a water trough, Vin rolled to one side. Chris tripped over the tracker's feet and landed on top of him. As he pushed himself to his hands and knees, gasping for breath, he stared down into the younger man's face.
"You give in yet?" Vin asked quietly, squinting into the sun.
With a look of astonishment, Chris sat back on his heels, then the fury began building again behind his eyes.
"No," he bellowed and, rising to his feet, he turned, retrieved his gun and strode away down the street, his black coat billowing behind him.
Ezra gave a disgruntled sigh and handed the five dollars back to a grinning Buck.
"Ah, but maybe all is not lost," the gambler murmured, his steady gaze on the tracker. "I think I'll be seeing those five dollars yet, my friend."
Buck watched as Vin staggered to his feet, slowly replaced his hat and made off in the direction of the livery stable, determination written all over his face.
"Shoot, you could be right," he replied with resignation. "But maybe we should discuss what evidence we need to settle this wager now." And he and Ezra made their way to the saloon, their heads close together, leaving JD staring after them in blank confusion.
Chris strode into the stable and started to saddle his horse. His movements crisp and concise, he had almost finished when there was a movement in the doorway. He swung around and stared coldly at the man leaning against the door post.
"Ain't you been hurt enough, Vin?" he asked roughly, turning back to his horse.
"Don't you think this has gone on long enough?" the tracker countered in a soft drawl, his eyes sharp as he took in the slump of the other man's shoulders. "Just how long will it take you to give in?"
"To what?" Chris questioned sharply, slapping the leather straight on the saddle pockets a little too harshly for his horse's temperament.
Vin stayed in the doorway, but straightened his stance. "I ain't gonna leave," he answered obliquely.
Chris froze in place, his head down, face hidden.
"I ain't gonna leave you," Vin amplified doggedly. "I ain't never gonna leave you."
Slowly, Chris raised his head and looked over at the tracker, his expression weary. "Not until a bullet takes you, huh, Vin?"
The tracker's eyes slid away from the hard gaze. "Was sorry about that, but I wasn't gonna let you die."
Moving swiftly, Chris had Vin plastered against the rough wall in a split second, pressing in so close the tracker could feel the burn of the older man's body heat through their clothing.
"You think it's any different for me?" the gunslinger shouted hoarsely, his voice echoing around the stable.
"No," Vin replied gravely. "I know it isn't. So why waste time?"
Chris stared into the deep blue eyes and read the truth, then raised a fist and thumped it hard against the wall. "Dammit, Vin, he whispered bleakly. "I don't know what to do."
At this admission the tracker smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. "Sure you do, cowboy."
Caught by the amusement in the other man's voice, Chris stared at him blankly then, with a murmur of defeat, he gave in.
Leaning forward he kissed Vin Tanner on the mouth.
It was a soft kiss at first but then it grew with passion as both men gave themselves up to the emotions denied for so long. Vin raised his arms and pulled the other man tightly against him. Chris moaned deeply, running his fingers into Vin's long hair to grasp his head firmly, shudders of pleasure racking his body.
Eventually he drew back. "God help me, I love you," he whispered between deep gasps for breath.
"Now, see," Vin panted, a grin curving his full lips, "the world hasn't ended just 'cos Chris Larabee loves a man."
His face breaking into a wide smile, the wrinkles around Chris's eyes made him look years younger. "This may come as a surprise but you ain't the first man I've ever been with," he said in the manner of one telling a great secret.
"Well, I'm darn sure I'm gonna be the last," the tracker replied resolutely. "Now how about unsaddlin' your horse and buyin' me a drink? All this talkin's done dried my throat."
Giving a loud laugh, Chris turned back to his horse and it wasn't long before the two men set off along the main street heading for the saloon.
Scratching his head under his hat, the gunslinger gave a grimace. "I don't know what to say to the others," he confessed when asked what his problem was. "That fight... The way I've been behaving..."
"Do the same as usual," Vin advised wisely. "Say nothin'"
"But -"
Vin put a hand on Chris's arm and stopped. "You know they were betting on us?"
"What?" Chris was aghast. "You mean they -?"
As Vin nodded, they started to walk again, though a lot slower.
"Not rightly sure I'm comfortable about that," Chris declared irritably. "Ain't no one's business but ours."
"Huh-uh," Vin agreed. "So, say nothin' and show nothin'?"
Chris mulled the idea over in his mind then smiled, very briefly. "Yep. That'll drive 'em crazy all right."
"I reckon," the tracker said serenely as he led the way into the saloon.
THE END