Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
Home | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Epilogue
It was raining the night he rode away.
He remembered looking up at the sky, searching for the stars while indulging a rare hope that one of those twinkling lights was actually Alice telling him she was okay. Thick cumulous clouds of grey had glared back at him, allowing no such revelation, choosing instead to mirror the dark in his grieving soul. In truth, he had tried to keep a brave face for as long as he could. He could not bring himself to disrupt her eternal rest with his sadness. She used to delight in his ability to make her laugh, and being unable to do so now made her seem farther away than death had already taken her. When Chris had found him on the trail, he knew she was gone, even before the words were spoken. He had not understood how he knew, but he had sensed her slipping away from him even before Chris arrived to confirm the fact.
The funeral was over by the time he returned to Crest Falls. All that was left for him was to say his farewells to a wooden cross with her name scrawled upon it. He remembered standing before the fresh mound of earth, trying to associate it with her, and being at a loss to understand why he could not see her in the dirt. He had not cried then. He refused to allow the town to see that Damien Westbrook had taken that from him too. The well of grief remained hidden, even after Chris brought Damien to Bitter Creek and a hangman's noose. Chris noticed it but said nothing. He had expected as much. Chris had his own demons and was not about to lecture anyone on exposing theirs when he could not even speak of his.
He left Crest Falls almost a month after Damien had swung. It would be some months before he and Chris ran into each other again, but he always expected they would. Something about their friendship was incapable of dissolving no matter how much time had passed. He quit his job with Keith Blesdoe who understood his pain and the need to remove himself from all that would only remind him of the bride that would never be his. He was nineteen years old with a wad of cash that was meant for a parcel of land and a proper honeymoon. It was spent on drinking himself into oblivion for the next six months. What had been before Crest Falls and immediately after it had been a blur that no longer held any significance to him. It was the journey in between that stayed affixed in his mind.
The rain had been relentless, pelting down on him with such force that his hat drooped around his ears and not even his oilskins were able to keep out the huge droplets of water. His horse had trudged through the mud and water, unhappy about travelling in such weather, but almost empathetically understanding its master needed to be away from the place left behind. He had barely noticed the soaking of his skin or the dreadful chill in his bones as he rode through the night, putting distance between himself and that wooden cross in the churchyard.
In the wet and cold darkness, he finally shed the tears that had remained pent up for so long. It was possibly the first time in his life that Buck Wilmington had cried. He swore it would be the last.
"Buck, are you okay?"
The voice brought him back to the present and Buck glanced sideways to see Chris staring at him with concern. He shrugged off the memories, remembering that they were riding to Crest Falls for a danger steeped in the present, not for the relic of some ancient pain. "Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fine."
"Nothing much has changed." Chris commented, knowing how difficult this journey was for his friend. The two men had been riding most of the night. Conversation had been short and obligatory because each was battling his own personal demons the closer they came to the town. In the years since Alice, both Chris and Buck had given Crest Falls a wide berth. For differing reasons, neither wanted to return to the town that had been the cause of so much violence and heartache.
"Towns like this usually don't. Things that happen get forgotten, and before long no one remembers why things happen or care when they do." Buck sighed. Although the track had changed, they would occasionally come across a turn of road or a tree stooped over in gnarled familiarity that triggered memories of the times they might had ridden by. Not much could be seen in the darkness, but a brief moment of illumination from moonlight told them they were going in the right direction.
"Have you been back here since then?" Chris asked.
"No." Buck said shortly. "Do you go back to the farm?"
By the farm, Chris immediately realized he was talking about the abandoned Larabee property that once was home to Sarah and Adam. "Only that one time." Chris confessed deciding that Buck had made his point. He had no wish to revisit the homestead he had shared with his wife and son because he did not need to endure the pain of all that entailed. Crest Falls had the ignominy of feeling the same way to Buck.
"After you brought Westbrook in, I didn't see the point." Buck replied quietly. "Nothing for me there except bad memories."
"I know what you mean." Chris said sympathizing. He wished he could say something to Buck that would make the hurt go away, but he never was very good at offering comfort. Nathan and Josiah were so much better at these things. However, the silence, rare for Buck, prompted him to make some attempt. "Buck, Inez will be alright" he began, wishing he had something more to add than that seemingly cliche response. "She's a strong woman. She'll recover."
Buck stiffened. Inez was still a fresh wound in his mind, tender and painful. He had not seen her before leaving for Crest Falls, and he did not know whether he wanted to or not. "I know that Chris." He admitted. "If Willis is behind all this, you know why he picked Inez, don't you?"
Chris knew perfectly well why Inez had been selected. It had nothing to do with her being a friend of the seven or being exceptionally desirable. It had to do with her being the woman of Buck Wilmington's supposed dreams. Since her arrival in town, he had been pursuing her affections like a man possessed. Everyone in town knew about his feelings for Inez after the very public duel that he had fought for her honor. Despite the fact that the relationship had not progressed beyond their verbal jousting, it was no secret that theirs was a romance in the forming. People watched in mild fascination, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the fiery relationship was finally consummated.
Inez was the perfect instrument of vengeance on Buck Wilmington, precisely because he cared so much for her, as he had once cared for Alice Sullivan.
"You know what I can't help thinking," Buck swallowed thickly, staring at the trail ahead, unable to meet Chris' gaze, "maybe if I hadn't run after her like I did, if I hadn't made it so plain that I wanted her, maybe those men wouldn't have hurt her. You know they did it because it was a way to get at me. Just like Damien got at Alice." Even as he said it, the words felt revolting in his mouth.
Chris knew. He had known even before Buck had voiced it himself. Chris had hoped it would have escaped Buck's attention, but he was often in the habit of underestimating his friend. He knew what would come with that realization, the guilt and self-loathing that he lived with every day of his life. Even now, with Mary in his life, he could not completely dispel it. "That's not true, Buck." He said hoping he sounded a damn sight more convinced than he felt.
"Yeah it is, Chris." Buck looked at him and Chris saw the glistening in his eyes. "You know it." He turned back to the trail.
Buck's ability to bounce back, to see the good in every situation, was why they had remained friends for so long. Despite everything, Buck had always tried to be the perennial optimist that chased away the darkness from his soul. Chris valued that part of Buck Wilmington, viewed it in envy because he would never know what it was like to feel so completely, without fear or reservation. Buck enjoyed living his carefree life despite the hurdles placed before him, while Chris had to struggle every inch of the way to experience the slightest variation in his guarded existence.
"Listen to me." Chris said firmly, unprepared to let this go any further. "Alice was not your fault." His voice was sharp and his tone was one that Buck was unable to ignore. "Damien Westbrook raped her and beat her. She took her own life because of that. You did not kill Westbrook's family, I did. I'm the one who shot them all to hell and probably pissed off their hired gun so much that he's come after me by taking revenge on everyone I care about. That includes you. You don't even exist to him. It's always been about me! What happened to Inez is his way of getting back at me by doing the one thing that would break you. Don't give him any more help."
"But..." Buck opened his mouth to speak but Chris didn't give him the chance.
"No buts." Chris retorted. "I need you clear and I need you focused. We don't know what's waiting for us in that town and I need to know I can count on you? Can I?"
Buck took a deep breath. He had not liked what Chris said, and he could not totally exonerate himself of the guilt, but the words had penetrated. "You can count on me Chris," he said, resolved to do exactly that.
"Good." Chris nodded slowly. He looked forward again into the night and wondered if any of this could have been prevented, or had it been fate from the first moment he had decided to take care of things for Buck? Those were questions better left unanswered. Despite their understanding, the mood remained tense and would do so for the next mile or two. That Buck should be so quiet unnerved Chris more than anything else that happened in the last two days. Under normal circumstances, Buck's prattling would be incessant and Chris had become accustomed to it during long journeys. Now the silence bothered even him.
"Today is Mary's birthday, you know." Chris said suddenly. He could feel the wrapped box still inside his coat pocket. With everything that transpired over the past two days, there had been no opportunity to give her the present he had bought her. He also realized that he had not even offered her a birthday wish and felt inordinately disturbed by the fact.
"I guessed." Buck replied, with a hint of the old Buck in his eyes. "I've never seen you more jumpy than when you have to buy for a woman."
Chris glared at him. "I bought Sarah presents." He protested.
"Chris," Buck met his gaze sarcastically. "In the eight years you were married to that saint, did you ever buy her anything in town?"
His non-committal shrug was answer enough.
"Chris," Buck took a deep breath and decided to speak his mind while they were on the subject of Mary Travis. "You know you're going to have to do the right thing by her."
Chris shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, disliking any mention of this subject. Buck immediately read his body language as a warning to leave it alone, but today Buck cared little for his own welfare. Mary was his friend too, and the repercussions of the town's knowledge of her relationship with Chris would undoubtedly have serious effect on her standing in the community. Mary functioned because she was considered a town leader, virtuous and brave, with particular emphasis on the virtue part of the equation.
"She's a good woman Chris," Buck continued, even though Chris was no longer staring at him but glaring into the dark as if will alone could deafen him to Buck's words. "Once people start talking, we both know they won't stop. If this Mrs. Kendall has anything to do with Willis, then chances are they've been watching you and Mary for some time now. Lord knows, they got a bead on the rest of us. Chances are good someone has actually seen you leave Mary's in the morning. Her reputation is already in trouble and she needs the paper to survive in Four Corners. You got to do the right thing and ask her to marry you."
"I did ask her to marry me" Chris responded with slow deliberation that masked nothing of the anger he felt. Of course, he agreed with everything Buck had said. Since the very beginning, he had wanted to marry her, it was Mary who hesitated. Chris could not understand it, but he had been unwilling to push, knowing that their worlds were different and he had to respect her desire to adjust. The last thing he had wanted was their relationship to harm her in any way, and he had been mindful of her reputation. How many nights had he snuck away in the dark, never wanting to leave the warm bed they shared, just so she could keep her honor?
"You did?" Buck looked at him in surprise. "What happened?"
"She said no." Came the taut reply.
"No?" This was getting even more bizarre by the minute. "Did she say why?"
Well he had revealed this much, Chris thought with irritation. There was no reason to keep the rest of it a secret. "She said we're not ready to be married."
Buck was right, it would be so much simpler if they were married, and he did want to marry her. He had not wanted anything so much since Sarah. He loved Mary with a passion that he could hardly believe at times. It was not the soft, subtle kind of love he had shared with Sarah, where every experience was new and fresh. His love for Mary was intense and paralyzing. When they made love it was not just an act of consummation, it was a marathon of torrid, steamy sensuality. He could go mad from desire just thinking about it. How was any man supposed to keep himself away from that once experienced?
"And your response?" Buck probed further, knowing Chris was not prone to such revelations and taking advantage while he was in the mind to talk.
"I said okay." He looked at Buck quizzically, as if there could be any other answer.
Buck rolled his eyes and stared at Chris with a mixture of astonishment and plain disgust. "You said okay and left it at that?"
"What was I supposed to do?" Chris barked back. He found himself examining his actions that day coming back from Sweetwater, and wondering if what he had done was wrong in light of Buck's expression at this moment.
"You're supposed to sweep the gal off her feet. Tell her you don't care to adjust and you can't wait! Jesus, you were married to Sarah for eight years, did you learn anything about women?"
Chris was starting to get angry. "I learned plenty."
"Obviously not enough." Buck retorted. "Chris, its plain to see she's scared."
"Scared of what?" Chris demanded.
"Scared of losing her independence, of getting hurt again! Who knows? She just is and you don't help much by letting her stew instead of asking her what the problem is."
Chris wanted to retaliate, but little that Buck had said was untrue. When Mary had refused his offer of marriage, how hard had he tried to convince her otherwise? As he recalled, he had opted to let things stand because it did seem less complicated than making their relationship official. Perhaps Buck was right, perhaps he should have made more of an effort to convince her.
Or perhaps Mary was not the only one who felt afraid.
Mrs. Kendall occupied a suite of rooms above the Emporium, accessible by a set of steps at the side of the building. In the last two months of her occupation in Four Corners, she had been a staple at numerous town functions and was soon considered one of its more prominent citizens. The elusive Mr. Wilkins was at her side always, providing fodder for whispers and speculation regarding the nature of their relationship. Although he claimed to be her business partner, he did not appear the type to be concerned with books and ledgers. If anything, he seemed a man more comfortable with a gun in his hand.
Both Ezra and Josiah checked their guns as they made their way up the wooden steps, just in case they encountered any trouble. In truth, neither expected any difficulty since they doubted Wilkins would place the lady in danger, but they knew nothing regarding the nature of their association, and so things, as always, were in doubt.
Ezra kept his derringer tucked neatly beneath the folds of his jacket as they reached the doorway. In the window, they could see a light radiating from the partially parted lace curtains. There were sounds behind the door so they knew someone was up and about. Although it was dark, it was still early enough to be respectable, and certainly appropriate for a lady to have gentlemen callers.
"What do you know about the woman?" Josiah inquired after they had knocked on the door and waited patiently for the shuffling feet they heard approaching behind it to allow them entry.
"Very little." Ezra replied. Josiah was aware of his designs on Mrs. Kendall, even though nothing had come of his interest. With the arrival of Alexandra Styles in Four Corners, any such dalliance seemed miles away and fortunately so. "I know she is extremely wealthy and has no family to speak of. However, these are intelligences I have garnered from local gossip."
"Gossip seems to be the special of the day." Josiah retorted having special dislike for those whom indulged in the uncontrollable urge to speak idly about others. "You sometimes wonder why God cursed us with the ability to speak."
"Because sign language is too difficult to learn, Josiah." Ezra remarked sarcastically.
The preacher gave him a dark look just before the door swung open and they found themselves facing a young woman Ezra had seen once or twice in the Emporium. He could not remember her name, only that she had offered him a smile as she breezed past. Obviously, her duties also extended to being a companion to Mrs. Kendall, as some rich ladies were inclined to have in the cities.
"We're here to see Mrs. Kendall." Ezra said politely before taking his hat off.
"Is Mrs. Kendall expecting you?" The young woman eyed Ezra and Josiah with obvious scrutiny.
"Sadly no," Ezra offered her his most charming smile. The one he used when in the process of charming an easy mark into handing over all their money. While the purpose was different, he hoped it would nevertheless serve in gaining their entry into Mrs. Kendall's presence. "However, the matter is of some urgency." He decided to omit using Wilkin's name because he did not want the villain to take flight.
"Well," she shrugged. "You may enter, but I cannot guarantee that Mrs. Kendall will see you."
"I understand." Ezra replied giving Josiah a look to let him do the talking. Once they were inside, there was nothing that would keep them from speaking to the widow, not after her 'associate' had so cowardly gunned down Nathan.
They were led through a narrow corridor, which eventually led into a sizeable parlor. Mrs. Kendall had arrived in Four Corners with very little furniture of her own, and judging by the pristine state of the furnishings, Ezra assumed that almost everything present in the parlor was recently purchased. Ezra had been among enough opulence in his life to recognize the authentic Persian rugs on the floor and that the upholstery was from the finest fabrics. Perhaps he had underestimated the size of her fortune.
"Wait here." The girl said coldly and disappeared into one of the connecting rooms.
Ezra glanced over his shoulder at Josiah who had removed his own hat was studying the room with sharp observation.
"Charming young woman." He remarked.
"Obviously not as charming as the good doctor." Josiah replied with a faint smile.
"What ever do you mean Mr. Sanchez?" Ezra replied, feigning innocence. He did not even know how he felt about Alexandra yet, how could Josiah? Besides, something about the preacher knowing that he was anything but indifferent to the doctor made him uncomfortable. He had grown accustomed to letting the others think that he was impervious to a pretty face unless he wished it. Admitting that he was just as susceptible to falling head over heels as the next person was too much for him to bear.
"I think you know perfectly well." The big man answered.
Ezra was about to make a devastating rebuttal that would end all of Josiah's speculations when Mrs. Kendall made her appearance. His earlier judgement of her had not changed. Victoria Kendall was a homely woman who would undoubtedly marry some day to a man interested in her fortune. Looking at her made him appreciate Alexandra all the more. She was rarely seen wearing anything bright and cheery and the dark brown of her clothes only seemed to add to her gloomy disposition.
"Mrs. Kendall." Ezra said politely. "We have not been formally introduced."
"You are Ezra Standish and Josiah Sanchez." The woman said shortly and bid them to sit on the very uncomfortable looking chairs.
Reluctantly both men sat down and Ezra saw her companion standing in a corner of the room, eavesdropping on their audience out of sight but clearly in earshot. Victoria seemed to be staring at them hard, with an edge in her stare that made Ezra uncomfortable for some reason. She reminded him of Chris Larabee in that way, and the feeling put him on guard even more. A sidelong glance at Josiah indicated that his friend felt the same disturbance
"We are grateful that you have seen us without an appointment, Mrs. Kendall." Ezra began. "I realize it is highly inconvenient."
"It would be less so if you got to the point, Mr. Standish." She said coldly. Her arms were folded in impatience and Ezra had a feeling that Alexandra was correct, in this instance his natural charm was not going to let him get very far.
"We are looking for Mr. Wilkins." Josiah retorted with just as much iciness to his voice. He knew she was playing a game with them and even if the rules were not explained as of yet, he did not intend to waste his time staggering in the dark.
"Mr. Wilkins?" Her response was practiced. "Whatever do you want with him?"
There was just a hint of surprise to add with a touch of puzzlement, all in all an impressive bit of acting. If it were not for the fact that Ezra had been taught by the best, he would not have picked it up. Instead of telling Josiah to keep quiet and allow him to speak, Ezra decided he was going to take a note out of Chris' book and observe while Josiah went on the offensive.
"He shot a friend of mine." Josiah answered, deciding not to spare her any knowledge. Perhaps, he could shock her into revealing something.
"You mean the nigger?" She looked at hem with wide-eyed surprise but Ezra could see the malice in her eyes.
"His name is Nathan Jackson." Josiah said slowly, emphasizing each word for good measure. "He's a good man and a damn fine healer. Your Mr. Wilkins shot him in cold blood."
She barely registered that part of the conversation. "Mr. Sanchez," she spoke to him like an unlearned child. "You may shave a dog and teach it walk upright, but that does not make it a man."
Before Josiah could react, Ezra enclosed his fingers on the man's shoulder. Ezra silenced him with a look and turned to Mrs. Kendall, understanding there and then what kind of woman she was and what sort of game she was playing. "That is one opinion, Madam." He said unwilling to show weakness. "But the law of the land saws killing a nigger, even if he's been shaved and walks upright like a man, is still first degree murder. You can help us bring Wilkins in or you can stand with him when he hangs."
"You know it was the best thing for this town." She continued, unfazed by his threat. "A nigger has no place working black magic on decent white folk. Of course, getting rid of him didn't change things either..."
"Don't." Ezra warned knowing where this was going.
"Now that they have trash the same color impersonating a doctor." She said it with a smile.
That did it.
"That 'trash' as you call her," Ezra stood up in white-hot outrage. "Is more woman and more human than you'll ever be! I know your kind Madam, you sit around in your parlor with vinegar in your veins, thinking about the good old days when beaus would come calling for you, hoping that money would do what the lack of beauty and intelligence cannot. You may vilify the good doctor Madam, but when it's all said and done, she is the one who keeps life in this world, while the only way you will produce it is to hope that alcohol is strong enough to dull the disgust of your would be husband!"
"How dare you!" Her companion rushed out of the shadows to defend the woman whose pallor was almost white from the brutal if somewhat deserved response. It appeared that Mrs. Kendall was not as good at taking insults as giving them.
"Get out!" The young woman raged, glaring at Josiah to remove Ezra from the premises. He need not be reminded twice as he started pulling Ezra out of the room. The gambler was glaring in open fury at the woman who had dared to impugn the name of Alexandra Styles. The words she used had almost made Ezra forget he was a gentleman and he was barely aware that Josiah was removing him from the room until they were out the corridor. She was still raving when they reached the door.
As Josiah closed the door behind him and they emerged once again in the night air, he was in a mild state of state of shock. In the year since he had first met Ezra Standish, this was the first time Josiah had seen him so angry about anything. Well there was that time he and Maude were having a price war between the hotel and the saloon, but that had been about money.
"I had no idea." Josiah said staring at him with a faint smile.
"What?" Ezra snapped, still glaring over his shoulder as they put more distance in between themselves and odious Mrs. Kendall.
"That you were so smitten."
"I am not smitten." Ezra turned back to him sharply. "I have a great deal of respect for Ms Styles."
"Obviously." Josiah retorted without any trace of belief in his words. "Unfortunately," Josiah sighed returning to the issue at hand. "We didn't find out anything about Mr. Wilkins."
"She wouldn't help us even if she knew." Ezra retorted with more certainty in his mind about that fact that any other in his life. "She knows exactly what he did Josiah. I saw it in her eyes. I can spot a con a mile away and I'm telling you, she's not what she appears to be. Everything she said to us was for the sole purpose of provoking a response, perhaps to distract us from what she did know about him."
"Why?" Josiah asked out loud, not expecting an answer.
"I don't know" Ezra replied. "However, I have a feeling that the truth is in her relationship with him. I want to know what he is to her."
Josiah looked at him. Suddenly Josiah guessed there was more to Ezra's reasoning than just the slight to Alex Styles' good name. Although he rarely used it for anything other than furthering his monetary pursuits, Ezra's intellect was formidable. Almost as formidable as Chris Larabee's. "What's on your mind Ezra?"
"I cannot explain it," Ezra said honestly, but he could feel this gnawing at his inside with unrelenting persistence. "But I am starting to wonder if Wilkins is really the enemy."
The saloon seemed to be the only place in Crest Falls that was still open at that time of night. Chris and Buck entered the half-empty establishment, receiving little more than a curious glance in their direction at their arrival. Although Crest Falls was hardly a big town, even Four Corners eclipsed it for size, the reign of the Westbrooks had established a malaise of indifference that prevailed even after so long. It was a place with too many daughters buried in tragic circumstances best left unspoken, thus Crest Falls became a place for keeping secrets.
The two visitors from Four Corners made their way through the faces that were drinking, playing cards and enjoying the hospitality of the working girls moving throughout the room in their lurid colored clothes and brightly painted faces. Despite the entertainment, the atmosphere seemed to exude a feeling of grim acceptance. That much about this town had not changed Chris decided. It was like this when he left twelve years ago. It was no different now.
"What can I get you?" The bartender, a fat, unkempt man with a bushy moustache not unlike Buck's, but without the appeal, asked.
Buck looked at the man closely and recognized the face. "Lucas?" He ventured a guess as Buck examined him closely. The years had affected Lucas with a few extra pounds under his belt and a few more strands of grey in his hair. He was an ornery cuss back then and Buck had no illusions that time had changed that disposition for the better.
The man called Lucas returned his gaze with as much scrutiny, trying to place the face. "Wilmington?" Lucas had never called him by his first name. In fact, Buck remembered that it was the bartender's habit to call everyone by their surnames. It hailed back to Lucas' days in the army.
"Yeah," Buck grinned. "How you doing?" He extended a hand.
Lucas smiled widely. "I haven't seen you around in years." The man replied. "Didn't you used to hang with that no good gunfighter Larabee?"
Chris looked up at him, wondering what other dazzling character references Lucas was going to exhume from his memories of thirteen years ago.
"Yeah," Buck replied, giving Chris a mischievous smile as he nodded. "That's him. So how about something to drink for me and my friend here?"
Lucas turned to Chris as if it was the first time he had realized that Buck had not come into the saloon alone. Chris responded with a slight tip of his hat that hid much of his face in the dim lighting of the bar. During the years when Chris used to frequent this establishment, he had always drunk alone unless Buck happened to be in town. Even then, he had wished to fade into the background and his general demeanor told most people he had no wish for company. There was no reason why Lucas would remember his face enough to recognize him after all these years and Chris preferred it to remain that way. With his history in this town, it might be simpler for Buck to get information without Lucas privy to Chris' identity.
"So what brings you back to town?" Lucas inquired.
"Just passing through." Buck lied. "So, what's the news?" he inquired. Prior to their entry here, Chris had told Buck that since he had been more familiar with the folks in town, it was probably best that he did the talking. While he listened to Buck question Lucas, his eyes moved across the saloon, keeping an eye on things and people.
"Ain't much happened since you left." Lucas replied, tactfully avoiding all mention of the Westbrook family out of some desire to prevent the opening of any old wounds. At the time, everyone had known about Alice Sullivan and although they felt for Buck Wilmington's loss, no one had been willing to take on Damien Westbrook or by extension, his father.
"What happened to the Westbrooks?" Buck asked without any trace of malice or distress in his voice. His calm manner in the asking of the question soon allayed Lucas' fears of offending the man. In retrospect, the old man decided that it was natural that Buck would wish to know about the Westbrooks, considering how that family had damaged his life. During those dark years, Lucas was almost grateful that his wife had borne him sons, so he need never know the shame visited upon the daughters of so many friends in town.
"Eloise didn't last too long after Damien hung at Bitter Creek." Lucas replied pouring himself a drink after awhile. "The two girls got married and Haven passed into their hands. I think Rebecca moved up east with her husband, some doctor from Philadelphia if I recall correctly." Lucas sifted through the memories before bringing forth the image of a callow faced man with steel rimmed glasses. Lucy stayed on Haven for awhile. She ran Haven with her husband for about eight or nine years before he died. They never had any children so she sold up and moved back east, with Rebecca I was told."
"What about Saul Willis?" Buck eased gently into the purpose of their journey here. Although Chris seemed to be observing the crowd behind them, Buck knew better. The gunslinger was listening closely to everything that was being said, even though he appeared indifferent to his conversation with Lucas.
"There was no call for his kind after James died." Lucas retorted, unashamed and not hiding his obvious distaste. James Westbrook had used his hired guns to intimate everyone in Crest Falls at one time or another. They had been his personal guard, protecting him and his family, no matter what the law had demanded. How many friends had died because of their refusal to let it go after Damien had raped or murdered their daughters? Lucas had lost count and he felt no love for the Westbrooks or their trained killers. "Most of them left, although I think Willis stayed on to look after the place before the girls got married. He was mighty friendly with Lucy Westbrook until she got married. After that, he stayed on as Haven foreman. He disappeared after Lucy sold up."
"You wouldn't know where he went, would you?" Buck asked, pretending to make it sound like a joke. "I wouldn't mind running into him and having my gun go off in his face. By accident, mind you." He grinned as he laughed out loud.
The joke was not that funny but Lucas laughed nevertheless. "Too bad I don't know. That would be something to see" he retorted. "He just up and cleared off one day, but then Willis didn't have any friends in town. No matter how long Damien Westbrook lay buried in the ground, people remembered how Willis protected him. "
"It was a nice idea." Buck half smiled, even though he was disappointed that there was nothing useful to be learned. He glanced in Chris' direction and saw by the man's expression that it was time to go. Both of them downed their drinks and Buck tossed a couple of coins in Lucas direction after some obligatory attempts at farewell.
"Hey Wilmington." Lucas called out both men withdrew. "Best thing that ever happened to this town was Chris Larabee bringing in Damien Westbrook. If you ever see him, tell him we appreciate what he done."
Chris said nothing as he heard that strange show of gratitude. Buck nodded mutely, knowing how Chris felt about the events preceding his capture of Damien Westbrook. They were not actions of which Chris was at all proud but he nevertheless responded warmly to Lucas' attempt. "I'll be sure to tell him next I run into him."
When they had left the saloon behind them and were out in the fresh air once more, Chris turned to Buck. "I don't think I want to come back here any time soon." He replied, surveying the town limits before him. Crest Falls was smaller than Four Corners. Its had probably been around a great deal longer but there was an aura of stagnancy about it that suggested it would one day slip into history with little more than a footnote of its existence. The town was dark and silent at this hour of the morning, and Chris wondered if it was worth finding a place to bunk for the night before continuing their search at first light. He had to confess disliking the idea of staying here, and he found himself longing for the raw vitality of Four Corners. Perhaps he was mellowing in his old age.
"Tell me about it." Buck remarked, scanning the empty streets lined with a sparse collection of buildings that faded out of memory as soon as the image had passed his eyes. "But there is something I gotta do while I'm here."
He need not say what it was because Chris knew. He was half expecting Buck to make this request even before they approached the saloon. However, Buck had wished to get down to business while the saloon was still open and there was someone they could question about Willis' fate and the Westbrooks as well.
"I understand." Chris nodded and followed Buck quietly as his friend made his way towards the churchyard.
Mary could not sleep. Her thoughts were filled with Chris and she found herself wondering where he was at this moment. Had he reached Crest Falls yet? The sleepless nights when he was away were starting to become a recurring theme in her life. Despite her confidence in his ability to take care of himself, she could not help worry that the day would arrive when there would be someone faster and better than he was. There were moments when she lay awake in her bed, unable to shake that fear out of her mind.
She tossed and turned in her sheets, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep and finding that it was hard to do without Chris. In the past weeks, she had become accustomed to his warmth in her bed and was starting to wonder how she had ever managed without him being there. Despite herself, Mary was beginning to look forward to the time when there would be no covert departures in the early hours of the morning and they could finally see a sunrise together. Perhaps, it was time to accept that proposal of marriage. However, even as the thought grazed her mind, she found herself wondering if this sudden acceptance had to do with the threat to her reputation now that the secret about them was public knowledge?
It bothered her that she might marry him because she was compelled to and not because of some genuine desire. She loved him. She knew that without doubt or hesitation. When they were together, it was like nothing Mary had ever known, even with Steven. Steven had been her first lover and nothing he ever did seemed wrong because there had been no basis for comparison. When she was with Chris, every moment of their lovemaking left her breathless. They did not just make love; they drank each other with a passion so wild and unyielding that she felt literally swept off her feet. His power over her was nothing short of devastating. Mary could not explain it but she knew it had gone too far for her to live without it and to a certain extent, she knew he felt the same.
It was just the idea of marriage that frightened her so much, not the possibility of being with him forever. There was no reason to question what kind of husband he would make because his mourning for Sarah and Adam proved he would be a devoted one. As for Billy, her son loved him almost as much as he loved his mother. With guilt, Mary realized that she had not told Billy about her relationship with Chris. In fact, she had told no one at all, except Inez. Even Orin and Evie Travis had no idea that there had been anything upon which to build such a liaison.
To top it all off, she was twenty-nine years old today and Chris had forgotten all about it.
To be fair, the last forty-eight hours had been anything but normal. With Nathan Jackson's attack, Vin Tanner's suddenly prominent price on his head and Inez' brutal rape, Chris had more to occupy his mind than just her birthday, still Mary could not help wishing that he could have at least given her one happy birthday.
Mary rolled in her sheets once more, trying to fluff up her pillow when suddenly; the stillness of the night air was shattered by the sound of breaking glass. She sat upright immediately, eyes wide and completely awake. Within a second of her awareness of the sound, she heard footsteps emanating from the next room, which Vin was currently occupying. Mary climbed out of bed and peered through the crack to see Vin moving in the corridor outside. He was carrying his gun and even though he was wearing trousers and a half opened shirt; it was obvious that the sudden intrusion had caught him by surprise.
His keen eyes caught the movement in the crack of the door and he turned to her. "Stay where you are." The mountain man instructed as the sounds below grew louder and thundered across the house and approached the step. Mary retreated into her room as Vin padded down the corridor to greet the interlopers when she suddenly remembered Inez. Throwing caution to the wind, Mary crossed the hallway and entered the room where Inez was sleeping. Judging from the sounds and voices below, the intruders numbered more than one and Vin was alone. Mary did not intend for them to be any more of a liability to him than they already were. He could get killed himself trying to protect them both, and she knew him enough to know that he would risk his life without a second thought to doing so.
Closing the door behind her, Mary tried to ignore the signs of impending violence in the voices that whispered faintly below. She heard her name being mentioned and knew that they had come for her. After everything else that had happened, Chris was right to believe that she required the protection. Mary sometimes wondered why she even bothered doubting him on such matters. He seemed to have the uncanny ability to predict the absolute worst in any situation.
Inez was still asleep, no doubt the effects of morphine dulling her usually acute senses to the excitement taking place around her. As much as Mary hated rousing her from her slumber, there was little choice in the matter. Somehow, she had to get help. Mary hurried to the side of Inez' bed and started shaking the Mexican to wake her.
"Inez!" Mary hissed. "Wake up!"
The quiet shuffling and whispering voices suddenly erupted into gunshots that shattered the night with their booming roar. Mary jumped at the sound and covered her ears as more shots rang out, followed by shouts and crashing objects. The ruckus did what Mary had yet been able to do, it broke the back of Inez' fitful sleep. The woman's eyes flew open and she sat up suddenly, her body covered in cold sweat as she awoke from one nightmare to another.
"What's happening?" Inez demanded with obvious fear in her eyes.
"Someone's in the house." Mary replied, her gaze darting to the door, half expecting someone to burst in. Suddenly the sounds shifted from gunfire to shuffling. She heard objects crashing against the floor and shattering. making such a terrible noise that Mary prayed for Vin's safety and that half the town was privy to what was happening inside the walls of her home.
"We must get out of here." Inez whispered, straining to move out of bed, despite her broken arm.
Mary saw her flinch in pain as she attempted to move and thought quickly. They could not hope to escape the house with Inez in this condition but they had to get help, making a quick decision that Mary prayed was the correct one, she looked at Inez. "Get under the bed!" She said quickly and ran toward the door. Twisting the key in a full circle, Mary heard the locking mechanism fall into place. Of course, it would provide little resistance if they chose to break it down and Mary saw the dresser against the nearby wall.
"What are you doing?" Inez asked as she climbed out of bed with a great deal of effort. Her injury and the morphine were making her movements sluggish, even though the pain was dulled.
Using all her strength, Mary dragged the dresser across the floor, causing its legs to screech against the smooth surface. She paused midway to catch her breath, ever aware of the noises below that had not abated. Without a doubt, Mary knew that Vin Tanner was doing everything possible to keep their intruders from coming up here. Hopefully, he would not have to do it for long. It took one more concentrated effort before the dresser had slid across the doorway and would offer formidable resistance to anyone attempting to force entry.
"I'm going for help." Mary said as she hurried to the window and slid it open. "Stay put no matter what."
Inez nodded weakly, in no position to protest. She dropped to her knees and slid under the brass bed, hoping that the linen and bedding would hide her presence beneath it. Mary saw her disappear under the flow of lace trimming before she climbed through the open window. The gush of fresh air, immediately blew the curtains with its gentle breeze. If the unthinkable should happen and the men did break into this room, Mary hoped they would believe its occupants had escaped through the open window.
Stepping onto the roof of her back porch, Mary hurried to the drainpipe running up the length of her house. It was not the best escape route in the world but it would be infinitely safer than trying to reach the ground by the stairs. While she had faith in Vin's ability to defend himself, even she had to recognize that the odds were against his fighting off what she guessed was at least four men. As she reached the drainpipe, Mary told herself not to look down as she wrapped her fingers around the length of metal tubing that led to the ground.
It was not lost upon her that she seemed to have learnt how to make such escapes from her house in the dead of night since meeting Chris Larabee. The steel was smooth and Mary told herself to hang on no matter what, when she finally placed her weight upon it. Her descent was quick and Mary prepared herself to fall when she stepped off the roof. Fortunately, the protruding wall clamps that slowed her journey at each encounter punctuated her sharp descent. When her feet finally touched the grass of her garden, Mary was left with little more than badly scratched hands.
By now, the commotion created by gunfire and breaking glass in the middle of the night had the effect of igniting lights all across the immediate vicinity. She heard a moan of pain as she ran under her parlor window and froze because she knew it had belonged to Vin. Mary remained hunched over in the darkness, terrified but listening closely at the violence carried out inside her home. For once the voices were no longer disjointed and vague, she could make words.
Forget the woman, this could work better.
Take Tanner, there's a two thousand-dollar reward on his hide!
Mary started to gasp at that but covered her mouth with her hand to keep the sound from giving her presence away. Poor Vin! Someone had to help him before these animals took him to Tascosa! She looked around frantically, hearing the approaching voices of help in the distance but knew they would not arrive soon enough. Mary had never felt so helpless in her life.
Mary remained where she was for a few minutes, listening in dreaded silence as the voices speaking decided to leave, taking Vin Tanner with them. She could hear their arguments becoming desperate as they wrestled with what to do in light of Vin's unexpected presence in the house. Judging from the angry voices, the men had come for her, and Vin's attempt to thwart their kidnap attempt had only succeeded in allowing him to be caught.
'Where's your gunslinger friend now? Your reward will give Dawkins a good burying'.
She heard the litany of insults hurled at Vin as the men moved across the house towards the front door. The door swung hard against the wall as they left her home and she heard horses neighing in the dark. Mary felt her heart sink as she heard the sudden pounding of hooves against the dirt road, growing distant as the intruders made good their escape.
An escape that left Vin Tanner firmly in their clutches and on his way to a hangman's noose.
No more than half an hour had passed when Mary found herself standing before Ezra, Josiah and JD as they prepared to ride. More than anything, Mary wished Chris would be riding with them. His absence seemed to make Vin's capture feel even worse than ever, although they understood his reasons for going. The three men had arrived at Mary's house shortly after the intruders had gone, finding the widow crouched in the darkness in the wake their flight. Mary had told the lawmen what had happened to Vin in the hopes that they could reach his captors before they got too far away.
"Mrs. Travis I don't advise you staying in your house tonight." Josiah said firmly, as he slid his shotgun into his saddle.
"With all of you gone," Mary said unhappily. "I really don't think it will make that much difference where I stay the night."
Despite himself, Josiah had to agree with her assessment of the situation. With Nathan out of the equation while Chris and Buck were in Crest Falls, they were seriously below numbers and could ill afford to leave anyone behind.
"I'll stay behind." JD offered, knowing that he agreed with Josiah in disliking the idea of leaving Mary or Inez alone. Both women meant a great deal to him in different ways and JD could understand Josiah's apprehension.
"Look," Alex spoke up. Ezra had sought her help a short time ago in light of this latest crisis. With Inez herself injured and their needing to leave Four Corners immediately, there was no one to tend to Nathan, who was far from being well enough to be alone. It was Alex herself who had stressed the necessity of Nathan requiring constant care, so she was more than willing to lend her assistance now that the need arose. "How about you and Inez taking a room in the saloon. Inez can make it there on her own two feet but there is no way Nathan is capable of movement. Maybe there's some measure of safety in numbers."
"It's better than nothing." Mary agreed with that as an option. "I have a shotgun I know how to use if anyone comes knocking."
"I do not like the idea of your having to defend yourself that way Madam." Ezra declared with as much distaste as the men saddling their horses felt hearing it. However, they did feel better knowing she was armed.
"I'm sure I can stay." JD looked to them both, hoping that they would tell him he was right.
"You can't stay." Mary stated before either Ezra or Josiah could. "They've already made one attempt at my life tonight, I don't think they'll be coming back until they've regrouped a bit. In the meantime, if Mr. Tanner reaches Tascosa, they will hang him." With a deep breath, she placed an arm on his shoulder and squeezed it tight. "It is far more important that Mr. Tanner is saved from this fate with your presence than your playing nursemaid to us." She gazed at the sunrise that was starting to make its eminent arrival in the distance. "Besides, it will be daylight soon. Chris and Buck will be back."
JD looked at her skeptically. He was young but he was not stupid. Mary had not expected the ruse to work but she needed to convince him to go. At the moment, it was not lost upon her that Vin had risked his life to save her and Inez, she was not prepared to let him hang, under any circumstances. Most of what she had said in her plea to JD was somewhat true. It would be sunrise in a few short hours and Chris had given no indication that he would be staying away for any length of time. As far as she knew, he was going to investigate Saul Willis, Wilkins, or whatever his name was, before coming straight back to Four Corners.
"We'll be fine Mr. Dunne." Alex added her voice to Mary's argument and hoped it would convince the young man to go.
"All right," JD admitted reluctantly. As sheriff of Four Corners, he felt obligated to protect everyone, not just Vin Tanner but Mary Travis and Inez who meant so much to Buck and Chris. "I hope you're right."
As JD turned back to this horse, Ezra approached Alex almost gingerly. He could not believe that in 48 hours, his life could have been knocked so askew by a beautiful face. Who was she that she could make him feel so completely vulnerable and sick with worry at the thought of any harm coming to her? He had seen Chris Larabee go through similar torment with Mary Travis on numerous occasions and felt a certain amount of amusement at the cool gunslinger's expense. Was Fate punishing him now by visiting upon him the same kind of torture?
"You will be careful." He said staring at her critically, with enough edge in his voice to make that an order.
"I swear." Alex replied. "On my honour as one who almost joined a nunnery."
"You were never going to a nunnery." He pointed out.
"You never had honour." She reminded.
"Good point. I'll see you when I get back." He grinned deciding that this was just another absurdity in an entire series that had plagued him since his arrival in Four Corners. It had almost been inevitable that he would find himself in this situation. Still, there were worse ways to spend time in torment.
"Be careful Mr. Standish." Alex said seriously. "I can't find anyone else with your hands for surgery if you get hurt."
Ezra looked at her as he mounted his horse. "Miss Styles, your confidence in me is overwhelming."
ALICE SHELBY SULLIVAN
Born 1848
Died 1866
Forever loved by all whom knew her
Buck stared at the tombstone for a long time in silence.
A caretaker was obviously employed by the parish to take care of these markers of marble and stone since Buck noticed an absence of weeds and other wildlife around the patch of earth where Alice Sullivan was laid to rest. In the dark, this place looked just as gloomy as when he had stood before this grave when it was freshly dug. In the daylight, a tall elm tree gave shade to the tombstone that had eventually replaced the wooden cross which had indicated Alice's place in this cemetery.
Like all things, the cemetery had grown in size. Thirteen years had seen the arrival of many inductees and it offered Buck some comfort to know that she was not all alone in her final resting place He knew he was a coward because he should have returned long before this. However, the pain was no less now than it had been when he first stood before this grave. Closing his eyes, he tried to force away images of sun streaked golden hair and laughing eyes telling him repeatedly that she loved him with all her heart. Buck had not realized how much he missed hearing her voice until he stopped being able to hear it.
Her father's grave was not far from hers. Buck had been able to do that much for Jebediah at least. The old man had never recovered from Alice's death, and with each day that followed, Buck knew he would join her soon enough. Alice was all that Jebediah valued in this life and with her passing, he had lost the only reason to continue living.
Chris was standing at the edge of the cemetery, allowing him his privacy in this most painful moment. Buck was aware that Chris had enough grief of his own to not want to partake in someone else's. Besides, Buck had asked Chris to let him do this alone. Buck stood before Alice's grave, saying farewells he had not been able to make during the funeral, talking to her as if they were still lying on the grass staring into the sky like they used to so long ago. She was his youth in all its golden sunshine and youthful abandon. When she died, she had taken that with her. After awhile, he came to realize that he was lucky to have known her at all and that notion alone allowed him to go on without her.
After what seemed an eternity, Buck turned his back and walked away from Alice Sullivan's grave, vowing to come back, even though he knew deep inside this place would not see him again. He continued walking back to Chris weaving, through the cemetery with its macabre crop of protruding stones indicating the lives ended, the hope gone. It was almost accidental that he came across what appeared to be a family plot enclosed in a low metal fence. Upon casual investigation as he walked past, Buck felt his stomach lurch as he discovered it to be the Westbrook family plot.
Whether it was some twisted fascination or some unspoken need to ensure that Damien was dead by seeing the tombstone for himself, Buck stepped into the arena of bodies. The largest of these monuments to the family who ruined so many lives belonged to James Westbrook. Resting at his side was Eloise, which was natural he supposed. All were ornate productions of angels and gargoyles that spoke volumes regarding the wealth of the dearly departed. The Westbrook boys were before their parents, with almost identical tombstones except for the inscription. With a breath he had not realized was held, Buck exhaled loudly when he saw Damien's.
There was one other grave present, which was placed to the corner of the plot. Buck deduced this to belong to the Westbrook in-law, whoever he might have been. Out of curiosity, Buck walked towards the marble headstone for a closer look. The inscription he read made his blood turn cold.
"Oh Jesus!" He whispered as awareness entered his mind a split second before Buck started running to find Chris.
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