Disclaimer: The 'Magnificent Seven' and other characters from the series are the property of MGM, Trilogy and the Mirisch Company. I just borrowed them, played with them for a while and then very regretfully gave them back! The original characters within this story are mine and should not be used without permission. No infringement of copyright is intended to whoever holds any legal right to the works of Robert Burns. Sadly, no money will be made from this work of fan fiction — I just wrote it purely for my own pleasure and entertainment!
Genre: Old West - H/C/angst/action. This story contains graphic, ADULT material.
Main characters: Vin, Chris and Ezra.
Rating: NC17 — Mainly for language, violence, elements of torture/physical abuse and a descriptive sexual scene. If you are not comfortable reading about Ezra being involved intimately with a woman, then this story is definitely not for you. There are several references to my story Under the Aegis of Seven and, although it isn't necessary to read that to understand this storyline, it was a stand alone piece that I specifically wrote in order to lay certain foundations and set-up characters for Sins of the Father. Also, I'm a Brit and, as my storyline involves a Scottish family, I have used phrases and words relative to their background and the Victorian era.
I want to take this opportunity to assure everyone that the convoluted plot, OMCs/OFCs, the conceptual ideas and writing for Sins of the Father are, in their entirety, all of my own work. Apart from hundreds of grammatical corrections by my super-beta, Jean B, no one else has had any input into my story.
Heartfelt thanks to my husband, Mike, for being such a supportive fella, during the highs and the way too many lows of writing this epic. I think he was joking when he threatened divorce, naming the 'Seven' as the reason for our marriage break-up! Huge, huge thank you to Jean B for doing such a great job in beta'ing this for me — Jean, you deserve a medal for so ably dealing with my comma fixation! You're one of the Best! Aside from Jean's many corrections, any other grammatical boo-boo's or plot flaws are mine and mine alone! An extra special thank you is due to Elizabeth, one of the tireless helpers on Lady Angel's website, for all of the hard work that she put in making my story look so good on the website. Elizabeth, you are a true professional — thank you for being so understanding, and graciously making all those pernickety amendments that I kept sending through to you.
If you enjoy this story, please let me know at susieburton999@yahoo.co.uk — I just love feedback!
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The town had settled down to its everyday humdrum existence once the Scottish newcomers had travelled on to their ranch. With the onset of a new breeding season the new landowners would need to work hard to get the ranch and outbuildings into reasonable repair, which left little time for unwarranted trips into Four Corners. Chris Larabee was relieved that life had got back to normal and, apart from the occasional visit to town for various supplies or to use the Telegraph office, the peacekeepers saw little of the Cummings' family or their workers.
There had been no more threats made to Robert Cummings, and James, Royal and Kehoe had returned to their respective ranches although, knowing how inflexible the three men were, Chris was sure that the cattle barons had not totally abandoned their attempts to intimidate the new landowners. With the days now lengthening after the long, hard winter, it was likely that the ranchers were busily occupied with preparing their own stock and property for the coming months. The three ranchers would not risk putting their own breeding plans in jeopardy, so any ideas to thwart the Cummings' business strategy may have merely been postponed for the short term.
With the exception of Ezra Standish, who was frequently making the long ride out to spend time with Fiona Cummings, there had been no reason for any of the peacekeepers to visit the Cummings' ranch, although Nathan had stated that he was keen to get to know the Scottish doctor a little better and wanted to see the man's medical set-up. Vin Tanner had got back to Four Corners two days after the Scottish family had left, but the gunslinger had relaxed somewhat as Will Henry had not visited town at all since escorting the new ranchers out to their property.
It was approaching midday as JD strolled out of the jailhouse, his eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light after the dimness of the office. The cells were empty at present but Chris insisted that someone should be in the office at all times and the youngest peacekeeper had just relinquished his stint of duty to Josiah. With a broad smile firmly fixed on his face, JD ambled along the sidewalk, content in the knowledge that he now had the rest of the day to do as he pleased. He would have liked to spend the afternoon with Casey, but the girl wasn't in town today, which left JD with free time but nothing to do.
Having spent most of the morning reading his latest dime novel purchase, he really wanted to be out in the open, but the idea of riding somewhere alone, and with no purpose, held little charm for the restless youngster. Buck had been on night patrol duty the previous evening, so JD could discount seeing his friend until at least two o'clock, or maybe even later if the ladies' man had managed to exert his much feted 'animal magnetism' before retiring to his bed early that morning.
With a sigh, JD crossed the street heading for Virgil Watson's hardware store, hoping he might see some of his other friends, or if all else failed just stay and talk to the knowledgeable old storekeeper.
As he got closer to the store, JD saw a familiar figure coming out of the door and, raising his hand in greeting, the dark-haired peacekeeper called out to the other man.
"Hey there, Howard! What brings you into town?"
Howard Fraser returned JD's warm smile, pleasantly surprised to see the young American. The two similarly aged young men had struck up an immediate friendship from their first meeting and had spent a whole evening together in the saloon, talking about their lives and interests. After that, they had agreed to get together as frequently as their duties allowed, as both men were eager to exchange useful skills; Fraser was keen to learn about drawing and firing a revolver from a western style gun belt rig, and JD was fascinated by the Scottish outdoorsman's hunting and tracking abilities.
"JD! It's happy greeting I'll be givin' ye! I've jes' put in an order for goods from Mr Watson, but they'll not be ready fer an hour or two. Are ye busy, man? We could mebbe have a beer to pass the time, eh?"
"Yeah, why not. I'm free all afternoon, so perhaps I can show you the principles of a fast draw, like we spoke about before." JD gestured to the saloon and the two began walking along the main street.
The blond Scotsman grinned, his freckled face wrinkling with delight at the offer. "Och, that seems like a bonnie idea, JD! We've been that busy at the estate...ranch," he corrected himself, rolling his eyes expressively, "I hav'na had much personal time, so his Lordship won't mind me tekkin' a wee break. Perhaps you'd like me to demonstrate water divining too. I've had some success in an area close to the ranch, so it looks as though m'talent hasn't deserted me in this new country."
"That sounds good! I was tellin' Vin about it an' he was real interested, 'cos he reckons that he's seen summat similar done by the Kiowa Indians. I don't know if it's the same sort o' thing though."
Fraser nodded knowingly at the other man. "Could be. M'Uncle Davey say's he knew an Indian punkawalla — uh, y'know the Asian Indians not American Indians — who also had the gift." The ghillie paused and his face brightened as he continued speaking. "Does that mean Vin Tanner's back in town then?" he wanted to know.
The young sheriff glanced at Fraser and, with Chris Larabee's warning still running through his mind, JD wasn't sure how to answer the seemingly innocent question.
"Umm... yeah, he is," he finally admitted, hoping that his instincts on the young Scotsman were correct.
"Great! We've had a wee problem with wolves and we wanted to organise a hunt before the new stock arrives later this month. Uncle Davey told me to try and hire Mr Tanner for his local knowledge, to accompany us in a couple of weeks. Mr Cummings is paying five dollars fer each pelt, and we've heard that yer friend's a fiendishly good tracker. D'ye think he might agree to help us, JD?" There was no hint of deception in Fraser's enquiry and JD breathed a silent sigh of relief.
"He may do, 'cos when it comes to hunting, Vin's one o' the best! Although, I'm not sure where he is at the moment, Howard."
The two had now got to the saloon and, entering the smoky room, JD looked around for a table. His face lit up when he saw the subject of his very last sentence, sitting alone at a corner table.
"Vin! Mind if we join ya?" JD didn't bother waiting for an answer, gesturing to his blond companion as he took a seat next to the tracker.
Signalling to the bartender for three beers, the young peacekeeper introduced the two men. "Vin, meet Howard Fraser, Howard, Vin Tanner."
Watching the two smile and shake hands firmly, JD felt sure that his colleague would get on with the easy going Scotsman, as he was positive that the two men had much in common.
"What ya'll up to, JD?" Vin took a long pull on his beer as he asked his question.
"Not much...well, not until I saw Howard that is. We were just gonna have a quick drink and then we were gonna have an afternoon of learnin' some things from each other."
Vin gave his friend a puzzled look. "Like what?" he asked.
Fraser had sat quietly contemplating the tracker while sipping his beer and he leaned forward slightly as he answered the man. "JD's kindly offered to teach me how to handle a revolver and belt. I was just looking at that mighty fine weapon y'got strapped to yer side, and it's made me realise that I'm at a bit o' a disadvantage from the rest o' ye American fellas. It's not customary in Scotland to wear a gun as a normal everyday habit but, seeing as this is m'home now, then I need to be the same as everybody else."
"Reckon. Y'get called out, then ya ain't gonna have time t'ask r nice if ya can go fetch yer gun." Vin drawled, his blue eyes carefully scrutinising the blond Scotsman as he measured up the young man.
"Howard had a bit of a run in with some fellas the other week and that's exactly what I said, Vin! Look, we're gonna have a go at water divining shortly, d'you want to join us?" There was an expectant eagerness in the younger man's features that made the more worldly-wise tracker smile. It gave him a warm feeling inside when he saw his friend's enthusiasm for something new or unusual and it was at times like this that JD reminded the Texan of a slightly ungainly puppy dog, dashing around after a stick or ball.
"Hmm. I might jes' take ya up on that, gents. Chris ain't 'round fer now an', as Josiah said, Ezra's off doing his Romeo bit, so I ain't got no plans fer this afternoon."
The men sat for a while longer chatting about various things while drinking their beers and Fraser explained about the wolf problem. Vin recognised the danger that a rogue wolf pack could be to livestock and readily agreed to help track and kill the animals, although he suggested that they wait a few weeks, to allow the weather to become more settled. The climate was still unpredictable this early in the year; dry and sunny days were becoming more frequent, but squally, icy showers with high winds were a common occurrence, reminding people that the harsh winter had not yet relinquished its grip on the land.
Howard Fraser could see the logic behind the experienced tracker's recommendation. Not only that, the schedule for the prospective hunt fitted in quite well with his boss' work timetable; the Cummings' workers had their hands full at present with making the ranch house and other living accommodation more habitable. The young ghillie knew he would have the backing of his other colleagues, so he arranged for Vin Tanner to come out to the Scotsman's property in three weeks.
The tracker could see why JD had become friends with the good-natured Scotsman in such a short space of time. The young man was relaxed and easy going, willing to listen to what the Americans had to say, while being just as happy to talk about his previous life in his homeland. The tracker was starting to get a feel for what the ghillie was really like inasmuch as he, like the Texan, was very much in tune with the land and animals.
Howard Fraser couldn't see the point of hunting for sport, although he recognised the necessity of protecting domesticated animals from wild predators and he frowned upon anyone who destroyed the countryside for the sake of money. Having witnessed in his teens the wholesale destruction of huge tracts of land, with forests razed to the ground either to make way for the railway, or to provide wood to feed the boilers of the Scottish and Northern England steel and iron industries, he felt a sense of awe at the wide open spaces of the range in his new home. The sheer scale of the untamed landscape took his breath away, and it was the sight of this magnificent new country that erased any feeling of homesickness that he might have had for his birthplace.
As the conversation petered out, JD suddenly grinned at the other peacekeeper. "Hey, Vin. Howard's hair's about the same length as yours, so how come you don't wear it tied back like that?"
Vin rolled his eyes in mock exasperation and then nudged his friend playfully. "'Cos I ain't got no mirror to see how y'do the finger, fanglin' tie! Anyhow, JD, ya'll nearly catching up wit' me, so mebbe ya'd best borra a purty pink ribbon offa Casey. Iffen ya do though, I'd keep m'eye on Buck, seein's how he does so like a challenge!"
The three young men laughed and, then having finished their drinks, they filed out of the saloon, heading in the direction of the end of town where the church stood.
On reaching the large open area near the church, the three walked over to boot hill, where several different varieties of trees ringed the town cemetery. Pausing briefly, as if listening to something, Fraser went over to a medium sized specimen and then placed both hands on the tree trunk, closing his eyes in concentration for several minutes.
Throwing a startled look at his fellow peacekeeper, JD was about to say something when Vin put a finger to his lips, indicating to the younger man to stay silent.
Finally Fraser relaxed and, giving the other two a wide grin, he began to explain. "This is the one we need. Now what we have to find are three Y-shaped twigs, about two feet long, but ye can only make it work if ye get the correct diviner for yerself."
Vin nodded solemnly. He knew exactly what the young Scotsman meant and, lithely jumping up to one of the lower main branches, he then proceeded to clamber through the canopy of the tree.
"I don't get what y'just did there, Howard. Why does it have t'be this precise tree?" JD watched as his friend continued to inspect the branches around him, frowning when he saw Vin also close his eyes as he concentrated on a small Y-shaped limb a little above him.
"This' a hazel, JD, an' they're the best to use. I...weel... I heard yonder tree whisper t'me, so I know she'll gladly give us what we want." Fraser's face was deadly serious as he gazed at the sceptical-looking peacekeeper.
"Trees can talk? You're joking! I ain't never heard one, Howard! An' it ain't summat you'd want t'blab around neither!" The young sheriff was beginning to think this was a bad idea and knew he'd never live it down if Buck found out what he was doing. Watching Vin, as the tracker nimbly dropped to the ground once again, he stared at his friend as the other trimmed the leaf buds from the stick he'd cut off.
"M'ready t'go, Howard." The tracker held the twig in both hands, and giving JD a wide grin, he experimentally balanced it in his grip. "Y'jes' gotta clear yer mind, an' touch a branch, JD. It's easy! C'mon, this'll be real interestin'!"
Soon all three were similarly equipped and, walking slowly along but away from the direction of town, they began the act of divining for water.
After traipsing along for several hundred yards, the three turned in a sweeping arc and then started to head back towards town, but on the other side of the broad track. None of the young men had spotted the arrival of Buck Wilmington and, on coming level with the church, they stopped in surprise as the ladies' man called out to them.
"Howdy, boys. What in tarnation are ya'll doing?" Buck's curiosity was roused even more when he saw JD blush, and hastily try to hide his twig behind him.
"Oh..Hi, Buck! We're just talking 'n' walking...it being such a nice day... an'... err, umm ...Vin's just getting t'know Howard," the dark-haired peacekeeper babbled, cringing inwardly when he saw his tall friend scrutinising the twigs.
"Actually Buck, we're divin' fer water. S'like the stick's alive or summat!" Vin exclaimed, his tongue slipping over the awkward word. "D'ya want'a try it?" he asked the older man.
Fraser grinned at the tracker's youthful enthusiasm, but JD stifled a groan, elbowing the Texan as Buck came across to join them.
"Vin!" JD hissed, knowing he would get teased about this for the next six months. The tall peacekeeper was no stranger to belabouring a point, especially if JD was involved.
"Yeah. I might do that, Vin. Where do I get me a divin' stick?" Buck's moustache twitched upward as he smiled. He had read in a book somewhere about what the three were currently engaged in doing, although he had never tried it himself.
After selecting a hazel twig, Buck lined up beside the younger men, his face a picture of mock concentration, as he too walked along. Looking up briefly the tall peacekeeper spied two young women strolling along the sidewalk and, although they appeared to be partaking in earnest conversation, they kept throwing puzzled looks at the four men.
Giving his widest and most disarming smile, Buck winked at the two women and, veering off in their direction, his twig began to spasmodically twitch in his hand, the end jumping into the air as if being pulled by a magnet.
"Why, good afternoon ladies. Now I reckon that one of you lovely darlin's must be meant for me! Your radiant beauty has made my stick come t'life, and I think we should listen to nature's wild call, hmm?" Buck had got to the sidewalk, his eyelashes fluttering coyly, as he made his openly suggestive comment.
The women giggled at one another, whispering in each other's ears as they kept their eyes glued to the quivering Y-shaped stick.
Buck was so intent on flirting with the pair that he failed to see a scruffy dog trot up behind him. Taking a quick sniff at the heel of the tall peacekeeper's boot, the stray then proceeded to cock his leg and urinate up the leg of Buck's pants.
Feeling something hot and wet soak through his pants and then trickle down inside his boot, the ladies' man yelped and jumped, his indignant gaze coming to rest on the dog now scampering away.
"Y'mangy mutt! Get outta here!" Buck howled angrily, chasing after and then hurling his twig at the rapidly departing hound.
The three younger men had seen the animal's approach and, seeing the dog's intent, they had waited for the explosion. JD began laughing as Buck let out an enraged cry and, as his mirth increased, he had to hold onto Vin for support; no mean feat, as the tracker was likewise doubled up with helpless laughter.
"You've got the gift, Buck! Y'found water! First attempt too!" JD managed to stutter, collapsing into more giggles as the outraged and embarrassed ladies' man lifted his soaked leg and shook it.
"JD..." The tall peacekeeper's warning was cut off by the sound of the two women chuckling and as the ladies haughtily walked away, Buck turned to face his young friend.
"Oh no, Buck. It wasn't my fault! Buck! No...don't! Buuuccckkk!" JD wailed, as he tried to evade the angry peacekeeper advancing on him.
Vin and Fraser dodged clear of the pair as Buck bodily lifted the struggling JD up, and then unceremoniously dumped him head first into a full water trough nearby.
As the spluttering man resurfaced, he blindly groped around in the surging water for his hat, finally locating it and promptly pulling it onto his dripping head.
"Now that really is water divin', kid. An' don't let anyone tell you otherwise!" Buck dusted his hands off with satisfaction, grinning as he saw JD spit out dirty water.
"Aw, dammit Buck! I only just bathed this morning! What'd y'do that for?" JD loudly hiccupped and then belched as he finished speaking, causing the other three men to chuckle even more.
"Hey, JD. Ya'll ain't s'pposed t'drink every drop ya find, y'know!" Vin stated earnestly, grinning again as his soaked friend let out a string of violent sneezes.
Clambering out of the deep trough, JD squelched along, his dark eyes indignant as he glared at his laughing friends. "Yeah, real funny! If I catch a cold, an' Nate forces me to take that awful medicine o' his, then it's all your fault, Buck! Howard, I'll catch up with y'later." With that, the youth stalked off in the direction of the boarding house, muttering angrily to himself as he went.
"Waal, I think I'd best go change m'pants, so I'll see you around, Vin. Howard, nice t'meet you again." Buck turned away, shaking his urine-soaked leg every few steps as he walked.
"Tell ya what, Howard. How about we go out o' town a piece t'try this again? I'm getting the feel o' it now." Vin held up his twig, a small smile playing across his features.
"Aye. I'm game fer that. Could ye feel the life force coming through yer diviner, Vin?" The two had started to walk to the edge of town, intent on completing the experiment.
"Yeah. It's real strange. I can sense summat, kinda like a vibration coming up the stick and it makes m'hands a mite tingly. Is that what ya'll feel?"
"I do! Ye must ha' the knack as well. We'll soon be able to prove it, 'cos if I manage to detect an underground water source out here and then ye feel it too...weel, I think another beer might be called for to celebrate!"
"Sounds like a plan, Howard, but I reckon we'd best make it real quick, 'cos it looks as though we're in fer some bad weather again." Vin pointed to the dark clouds gathering on the horizon, as he spoke.
"Damn! Yer friend Ezra took Miss Fiona riding this afternoon. I hope they make it back before the rain arrives. Doctor MacIntyre has already caught a bad chill and he won't be too happy nursing someone else if she gets doused." Fraser adored the young Lady Fiona and the tracker could hear the concern in the Scotsman's voice.
"Don't worry. Ezra'll take good care of her, and he knows all the places t'shelter if need be," Vin said reassuringly.
A distant rumble of thunder made the pair look at one another in alarm and, with a rueful shake of their heads, they turned around and headed back to town to seek sanctuary in the saloon. It looked as if finding water today wasn't going to be a problem, but the source was coming from a totally different direction to the one anticipated. The thought of waiting for the storm to pass whilst enjoying a cold beer suddenly appealed to both young men.
The idea of taking a ride solely for pleasure had never appealed to Ezra Standish, as he had always maintained that the physical effort to travel on horseback should only be exerted as a means to an end—or when no civilised mode of transport presented itself to get from A to B! Now, as he looked at the glowing face of his companion, the gambler was beginning to see how much a ride could be appreciated, particularly when accompanied by a radiantly beautiful and attentive young woman.
And Lady Fiona Cummings was all of that, and more. When standing, she was of an equal height to the gambler and, although slim, Fiona had a strength tempered by the numerous outdoor pursuits that she had always enjoyed. The woman looked perfectly at ease on her horse and she had sensibly worn a thick, shorter cut, riding jacket with matching dark grey pants that hugged her slender form. Perched on her head was a black western style hat that hid her dark curly hair, while keeping the sun from burning her fair complexion. There was an almost ethereal quality about the young Scotswoman, and her youthful features lit up with excitement at the spectacular landscape surrounding them. Her quick eyes missed nothing as she kept watch for any sign of wildlife.
"I'm so glad that you invited me to ride with you today, Ezra. Robert hasn't let me go out alone as yet, and the other day he insisted that Mr Henry escort me when I wanted to exercise Rio." The woman patted the well-schooled but feisty stallion's neck and, for a split second, Ezra thought he detected a note of repugnance as she said the name of the Texan who worked for the Cummings' family.
"Well, I can quite understand your brother's motives for not allowing you to ride solo. The open range can be a dangerous place, and even the most experienced person can never know what lies beyond the next ridge. However, we are not too far from civilisation and, in fact, this secret lake that I mentioned is a mere half hour's ride from Mr Larabee's humble cabin." Ezra pointed in a vague gesture to the east and then indicated west, as he continued. "The town is two hours in that direction, so you see, it is not as remote as one might expect."
Fiona smiled, her violet eyes shining as she gazed at the handsome gambler. "It just seems very isolated to me. In Scotland, if you rode for three hours, it was possible to go from large town to town. I much prefer it here though; these wide open spaces make me feel free and so alive! And the sky — it's such a beautiful deep blue! It just seems to go on forever!"
Ezra chuckled and shook his head at the young woman's enthusiasm. "My dear lady, your sentiments echo those of Mr Tanner. There have been many occasions when our esteemed tracker has shunned the confinement of town and sought refuge in the arms of this fair countryside."
The couple rode on for a short time in silence and, guiding his horse up an incline, the gambler gestured to a rocky outcrop. "In a few minutes we will arrive at our destination and then you will be able to see for yourself this breathtaking waterfall that I so inadequately described to you."
The terrain had got rockier as the horses climbed and, slowly going through a high walled, narrow pass, they entered a small tree dotted plateau. With a gasp of surprise, Fiona kicked her horse into a trot as she headed for the small lake nestled in the far right corner.
"Ezra! It's absolutely stunning! How wonderful!"
Ezra knew he was grinning like a complete fool, but the woman's obvious pleasure was contagious and his heart gave a flutter as he urged his own mount after the girl.
They were soon sitting beside the crystal clear lake and, apart from the sound of the waterfall tumbling into the cold water, nothing else intruded on the pair's thoughts.
Fiona inhaled a deep sighing breath, almost as if smelling the tranquillity that the hidden area offered. "Ah! This is just so perfect—I could stay here for all time. Thank you for bringing me up here, Ezra." As she spoke she leaned over to the man and, putting a finger to his cheek, she gently pulled his face towards her before kissing him.
As their lips met, the kiss deepened and Ezra's chest suddenly tightened until he thought his heart would burst with sheer pleasure. It was like nothing he had experienced before and, as he wrapped the girl in the protective circle of his arms, he immediately knew that he had found the other half of himself that had been missing his entire life.
The couple broke apart, both breathless from the passionate embrace and, as Fiona gazed into the gambler's green eyes, she felt such a strong need for the man that she was convinced he could easily hear her desirous thoughts.
On meeting Ezra at the initial gathering in town, she had covertly watched the fancy dressed gambler when he had spoken to her oldest brother about business proposals to the newcomers. After readily accepting his invitation to dinner that same evening, the handsome Southerner had stirred her womanly curiosity. The man exuded charm and wit, but he seemed to use it as a foil, a carefully erected barrier to his hidden sensitivity and, after engaging him in conversation, she realised that she wanted to know more about the enigmatic Ezra Standish.
Now, after their ecstatic first kiss, it seemed as if everything had fallen into its rightful place. They were aware of the sparking bolt of euphoria that had surged between them as their demanding lips met and now, as they stared rapturously at one another, the couple knew they were intricately linked together. It was as if they had known each other for a lifetime.
"Good Lord!"
"Ezra..."
They both laughed as they spoke simultaneously.
Ezra took hold of the woman's hand, kissing it in a courtly fashion as he gazed into her eyes. "Ff..Fiona..I...I...I am not usually so..umm... presumptuous with a lady, especially one that I have only just met, p...p...please forgive..." the gambler stammered. But his words were quickly silenced, as the woman traced around his face with a gentle finger.
"Shh. There's nothing to forgive, Ezra dearest. I wanted it to happen. When I saw you again before we went out to the ranch, I somehow knew that we were destined to be together. I had to pinch myself yesterday after seeing you ride into our front yard, and I was hoping that you were not merely visiting to speak of business matters with Robert. There did not seem to be a way of meeting with you again but, when you suddenly arrived on our doorstep, it was as if my prayers had been answered." Fiona blushed, dipping her chin momentarily as if unsure of the man's reaction to her outspoken comments.
Gathering her thoughts quickly before courage deserted her, the woman continued with her frank declaration. "You must think me very brazen, sir! I could barely sleep last night, as I wished the morning would arrive as soon as possible so that we could be alone. I...I was only concerned that you would not share my sentiments, but I believe we have just proven how we both feel."
The gambler could hardly believe his ears! He had felt a compulsive attraction for the young woman from that first glimpse of her at the meeting, so to hear her now voice Ezra's own innermost thoughts made him feel like the luckiest man in the world. He wanted to run and shout his love for her from the highest mountain. This blessed woman wanted him beside her; she was as drawn to him as he was to her and this totally encompassing love bound them, heart and soul. Nothing would come between them—ever.
"Fiona.. my love. I find myself speechless! This is truly remarkable and you must not think ill of yourself for speaking so boldly. Hearing you say the same things that have become etched upon my own heart in such a short space of time, takes my breath away completely. I have never felt this way before and I was not convinced that love could happen like this, but I was wrong." Ezra still held her hand and, as he looked at her with the eyes of a lover, he shivered with a longing desire.
Fiona smiled and lowered her eyes, almost as if reading his thoughts. "I don't want this day to end. Wouldn't it be truly wonderful if we stayed here together for all eternity? I think this delightful place was created just for you and me. Do you believe in Kismet, Ezra?"
"I never used to. My mother taught me that life is a gamble, something to be calculated with a mathematical formula and the odds can be favourable or not. Now after meeting you, I am not so sure. I honestly believe that my dear mother has never experienced such powerful feelings—for anyone—otherwise she would not be as fervently misanthropic." The man grinned wryly, as he idly wondered what Maude would think of Fiona. Of course, she would be delighted that her son had become involved with an independently wealthy and titled young woman, but he suspected that his mother would think his motives for courting the girl would not be genuine. With an inward sigh, he realised that his friends would also think that he was merely after Fiona's money and he would find it difficult to convince the more cynical of his fellow peacekeepers of his true feelings.
They sat for some time, talking about their lives and interests and, the two were so engrossed in each others company, that they failed to see the gathering storm clouds in the distance. A sudden rumble of thunder made Ezra jump and, scrambling to his feet, he peered westward at the heavy blackness advancing on them.
"Oh dear Lord! We had best hurry for shelter, Fiona. I believe we are witnessing the approach of turbulent weather and the open range is not a place to be caught in a thunderstorm." Ezra began readying their horses and, after hastily boosting the young woman up into her saddle, he leapt astride his own mount, kicking the animal into a trot as the pair headed towards the exit.
Another rumble reverberated out and, glancing up at the rapidly darkening sky, the gambler came to a decision.
"We are not too far from Mr Larabee's cabin and it will be safer to wait the storm out there. Are you ready for what could be a wild and wet ride, my love?"
The couple had reached the bottom of the hill and the woman now cantered beside the gambler, giving him a reassuring smile at his concerned question. "Yes. Believe me, I've ridden in worse in Scotland!" Fiona was suddenly grateful that she had ignored her brother John's acerbic comments about her riding attire that afternoon. A skirt and blouse would have offered little protection against the elements but, on feeling the first cold spots of rain on her face, she knew both her and Ezra would soon be drenched.
Squeezing her heels into Rio's side, Fiona urged the black stallion on faster. "Let us make haste, Ezra. I regularly hunted in Scotland, and I'm used to riding at speed."
The gambler nodded briefly and then encouraged his mount on to a gallop. With luck they would reach shelter before the full might of the storm unleashed itself upon the land.
It took Ezra and Fiona twenty minutes to reach the small cabin and, after ushering the soaked young woman inside, the gambler quickly stabled the nervous horses.
Flinging himself through the cabin doorway as a cobalt-blue fork of lightning flashed downwards, Ezra slammed the door shut behind him and looked in relief at the blanket wrapped woman before him. Taking off his drenched hat, a trickle of rainwater splashed to the wooden floor and, as the gambler's eyes locked with Fiona's, they both started to giggle.
"My, my. What a sorry sight we must present!" he managed to blurt out in between chuckles.
Fiona nodded solemnly, but her face showed her amusement at their sodden appearance and the ridiculous situation. "Yes, we do rather resemble a pair of drowned rats! I shall start a fire but you must get those wet clothes off, dearest. Perhaps your friend has some whisky or something to warm us." As she spoke, Fiona began piling logs into the small stove and had soon lit the fire.
Having stripped of everything apart from his socks and silk shorts, Ezra pulled a blanket around him before rummaging in a small cupboard by the window.
"Ah-ha! Mr Larabee, you are so predictable! I knew you wouldn't let me down!" The gambler brandished the nearly full bottle and, reaching for two glasses, he poured a generous measure in both.
The couple were soon sitting in companionable silence, drinking the whiskey and listening to the torrential rain hammer against the roof. The violent storm made its presence felt at regular intervals, almost daring them to leave their safe haven as the wind whistled through tiny cracks in the cabin's wooden walls.
"Will this last very long, Ezra?" Fiona asked as she wandered over to stand by the window. Wiping away a circle of condensation she peered out into the gloom, looking intently at the small corral that now resembled a lake.
The gambler was busily spreading their wet clothing out on the table and chair, hoping that the meagre warmth from the fire would be sufficient to dry them. Glancing at Fiona he gave a wry chuckle. "I sincerely hope not! This is very un-seasonal, but Mr Tanner did mention just the other day that he thought we would have an extremely wet spring, followed by a drought this summer. My friend has an uncanny ability to be correct in his weather predictions."
"Oh...that does not sound very good for our first year. I shall have to mention it to Robert, although I'm not sure how he can prepare our stock for such an eventuality." The Scotswoman suddenly frowned in confusion at the gambler's words. "Ezra dearest, why do you call your friends by their surnames? Are you not that fond of them?" This had been puzzling her for some time, although she could tell from the man's voice that he felt a close friendship for all of his colleagues, and particularly Vin Tanner.
Ezra sat on the bed, and Fiona came to sit beside him, as she waited for his answer.
"Well... yes, I am very close to them, but...." The Southerner broke off momentarily, suddenly reluctant to voice his true reason for such formality. This punctilious trait had become his way of keeping people at a distance, to hold them back from forming any type of relationship with him. It was an almost automatic defence mechanism, an invisible fence that Ezra had built to stop himself from being hurt. In short, it was his first layer of protective cover, carefully put in place from an early age after he realised that the only person he could count on was himself. But how could he possibly explain all this to Fiona?
Sensing the gambler's unease, the girl gave a knowing nod. "There's no need to elaborate, Ezra. I have done similar myself on many occasion." Fiona shrugged and smiled faintly. It was if she could read Ezra's thoughts and her eyes almost seemed to penetrate his surprised green gaze. "Sometimes," she continued, "it is easier to interact with people on a more...shall we say, platonic basis."
Ezra blinked in stunned disbelief, easily reading the meaning behind the perceptive Scotswoman's statement. Fiona was only too aware of his self-doubt and fear of personal involvements, but he perceived no hint of distaste or pity in her manner — only complete understanding and sympathy for his many insecurities. She somehow knew his most intimate secrets and foibles, but still accepted him and wanted him for what he was.
"Ehem...well yes, that is very true. However, I would have to say that it is also a token of my respect that I refer to them thus, although I often call them by their Christian names too. It is an affectation that stems from my childhood and youth in Georgia, as it was fashionable to use an honorific before a name. Sadly, old habits die hard and I often slip back into those ways." The man smiled and, turning to face her, he lifted a corner of his blanket to wipe away a droplet of rainwater that had trickled down her neck from her still damp hair.
At his touch, Fiona suddenly shivered. Ezra hastily dragged another blanket from the bed and, fearing that the young woman was chilled, he draped it around her shoulders.
"I'm not cold. It was just...I wanted...I felt...oh, my dearest Ezra..." Her voice trailed off as she melted into the peacekeeper's arms and time seemed to stop as the lingering kiss began.
There was a demanding hunger about their embrace and, as the blankets slipped from the young woman, she pushed closer into the gambler, her trembling body engulfed with desire as they fell back on the bed.
They lay on their sides facing one another as they broke the kiss and Ezra was beginning to think he had died and gone to heaven. All coherent thought was gone from his mind and an overpowering feeling of love surged through him, as Fiona's questing fingers now stroked his bare chest, her nails catching on the hair surrounding his nipple. With a groan he caught the tempting hand, interlacing it with his own, as he kissed her eyelids and then her throat before trailing his tongue along her neck to her ear.
It was the turn of the young woman to moan in pleasure and, as Ezra unfastened the buttons to her camisole, she felt his warm hand gently cup her breast, her mouth seeking out his once again as she drank his seductive kiss. Somehow he managed to slide the restricting clothing from her and, on seeing her small erect breasts, the man gave an almost guttural growl as he rolled a soft, pink nipple in his fingers. Fiona gasped in utter abandonment as his erotic touch aroused all of her womanly instincts. The heat that had been steadily building in her stomach, suddenly flared into an even hotter flame of wanton desire and, as Ezra's hand slid down inside her drawers, her quivering legs parted allowing him to stroke her moist, aching flesh. The gambler's other hand pulled down the silken undergarments and, hooking her own foot into them, she soon kicked them completely away, her lithe naked form now moulding into his body like a perfectly fitted glove.
There was no holding back for either of them now and, as Ezra expertly teased Fiona to approaching orgasm, she tore frantically at his shorts. The man gulped with excitement when he felt her grasp his hard, throbbing manhood and, freed from all restrictions, he panted as the woman rubbed her warm palm along the whole length of it, his throaty growls deepening as she playfully ran her fingers through the thatch of curly hair. Shifting his position on the bed, Ezra gently lowered himself onto his eager lover's body and, as he slowly pushed his manhood into her wet softness, their mouths hungrily met again. Fiona clung to the Southerner, her strong legs curling possessively around his and her fingernails dug briefly into his back from the sudden sharp pain as he entered her. The fleeting discomfort was immediately gone as a compelling sexual need took over and her body now arched with increasing pleasure as she matched his perfect rhythm.
Fiona had never experienced anything like it and, as her breath quickened in tempo with Ezra's thrusting movements, she thought she would faint from the dizzying passion and lust that consumed her, not even hearing when she cried out her lover's name. The gambler was also totally lost in burning desire and, as his beloved called out in soaring ecstasy, he was beyond responding to her elated cry. With a shuddering breath Ezra intertwined his hand with Fiona's and, as an exultant sigh tumbled from his lips, he was unable to stop the hot, molten flow as he too reached climax.
For several minutes they lay quietly together, both sweaty and spent from their ardent lovemaking, until finally Ezra rolled onto his back, pulling the young woman onto him as she snuggled against his chest.
"My love, I...God, you are so beautiful. How can I be so lucky? Fiona, I love you with all my heart," he breathed into her ear, still not quite believing what had happened between them.
The woman smiled and, lifting her face to the man she knew was hers forever, she gently kissed him. "I love you too, my dearest. I think I did from the moment I saw you. Thank you for giving me such a gift."
The thunder still rumbled in the distance but the heavy rain carried on pummelling the roof as the storm began to blow itself out. The outside world had ceased to exist for the two lovers in the cabin; they were totally wrapped up in each other, their sensuous desire banked for the time being, although not entirely sated.
Ezra gently caressed the woman's body with his hand, feeling every facet of her soft skin whilst keeping a protective clasp on her with his other arm. With a deep contented sigh, the gambler kissed Fiona's hair, smiling when the woman burrowed further into the curve of his shoulder.
"Ahh!" she breathed happily and, lifting her hand she trailed her fingertip around her lover's eyes, nose and mouth. "I am truly a woman now. Complete. I think God must have known this would happen between us, dearest, and my fears are now banished forever."
"Forgive me for asking, my love, but you did say that you had been widowed several years ago. Whilst I accept that you were wed, it surprised me to discover that I was the first...well...ehem... you were..." Ezra's quiet voice broke off, unsure how to go on. It wasn't in the gambler's nature to pry but his natural curiosity took over. He didn't want to upset Fiona by asking about her past life but he was an accomplished lover and he'd soon realised that the young woman had come to his bed a virgin.
"Yes. What I shared with Richard could not be called marriage. My father chose him as a husband, against my wishes. We wed when I was eighteen, but no one knew that Richard was ..." She swallowed noisily, and Ezra could feel her shaking with emotion.
"Shh, my love. I beg you, please do not upset yourself. I am very sorry, I had no right to ask such an intimate question." Ezra held her even tighter, trying to offer what comfort he could.
"No, I need to tell you this! It is high time that the truth came out. I have been too ashamed to speak of this with anyone before — even with Abigail who is as dear to me as a sister, and very understanding. But Ezra dearest, you have now given me hope and the fortitude to deal with the many spectres from my past."
"My dear, sweet lady! I have no wish to cause you such anguish, so perhaps this obviously painful memory is best left..."
"No!" Fiona shook her head vigorously, cutting off the man's appeasing comment. "Please allow me to exorcise this shadow from my soul, Ezra dearest. Only you can give me the succour I so desperately need!"
The gambler stayed silent, but gave the young woman a squeeze of sympathy and support.
Taking courage from the Southerner's mere presence, Fiona began to explain. "I never really wanted to marry that young, but even I knew that Duke Richard de Berry was an excellent match and both our clans could benefit from the union. However, after resigning myself to a love-less relationship, I discovered my husband's...idiosyncrasies. Ezra... Richard was more... more attracted to young men — very young men. Our marriage was never consummated and he found me abhorrent. When he was killed in a duel, I blamed myself but I resolved that he would take his secret to the grave. I was afraid of what might happen. His family were very influential and had connections to the Prince of Wales. I would have died with shame if details of his conquests had been made public. Not only that, I had begun to believe there was something wrong with me. John always taunted me for being too boy-like and I really thought that I would never be able to have a full loving relationship with a man. Now I know I was wrong. I love you with my whole being, Ezra, and I don't want this feeling to end." The woman tightened her hold on the gambler but she felt like a heavy covering had been lifted from her spirit and all that remained was fulfilment.
"Nor I, my love. I have never felt this way about someone before. Fiona, I know we have only just met but I believe we are meant to be with each other." Ezra's green eyes locked with her sparkling violet gaze and, as their lips brushed gently, the gambler felt a rush of pure joy to his heart.
"Yes. We are together forever, dearest." She sighed happily, content to reside comfortingly for a while in her lover's strong arms.
They lay quietly for some time, tenderly exploring each other's body until, as one, their lips urgently met. Clasping together into a loving embrace, the simmering embers of passion re-ignited, fuelled by an aching need growing within both man and woman. Soon the couple were so intimately involved with their lovemaking once more, that they were unaware of the peaceful quietness outside.
It was as if the day had been reborn. The wind had dropped completely and the showers eased away as the heavy storm clouds disappeared, allowing the early spring sun to break through. The warm rays stroked the wet ground, revealing a fresh, rain brightened landscape.
Chris Larabee lounged against the livery stable wall as he watched the tracker ready his horse for the journey to the Cummings' ranch. The gunslinger couldn't put his finger on why he felt so apprehensive about his friend making this trip, but there was a little voice in his head telling him that there was a problem, although he knew if he mentioned it again to Vin Tanner then the younger man would probably accuse him of being a mother hen — or something even worse!
The gunslinger absently kicked at a tangled ball of straw on the ground as he deliberated over what to say to the man. Vin had been angrily dismissive of his older friend's warnings the previous evening, and Chris was sure that the Texan wouldn't have had a change of heart overnight. However, the gunslinger's growing trepidation caused him to throw caution to the wind and he resolved to try and make the tracker see his viewpoint.
"I could go with you, y'know. Might be easier with an extra pair of eyes and hands," Chris suggested softly.
Hefting his gelding's saddle from its stand, Vin made no reply to the other's blatant offer and continued readying his horse in silence.
"Vin?"
Letting out an exasperated sigh, Vin stared at the gunslinger. "Nope. Fours plenty fer this kinda hunt. Chris, I gave m'word t'Howard, an' I don't break promises. Not to anyone!" he said emphatically.
The gunslinger nodded in resignation, but the tension between the two peacekeepers hung like a choking fog in the quiet stable, and Chris knew he was treading on extremely thin ice. Five long minutes of awkward silence passed, before the older man spoke again.
"Got any idea when you'll be back?" Chris tried to keep his tone casual but, seeing the look that the tracker threw at him, the gunslinger knew he'd missed by a mile.
"Few days. Howard an' Davey managed t'follow some tracks, but them wolves is real sneaky an' don't allus act as they should. Mean-eyed black critters, wit' silver bits, an' the leader, waal... he worries an' pesters other animals—now why does that sound familiar?" Vin's scornful gaze raked over the other's black attire, the monotony only being relieved by the occasional flash of silver on the belt and gun decoration.
Chris refused to rise to the bait and decided to press home his point for a final time. "Vin, I know you've heard this already but I just don't think it's a good idea. What if I'm right about Henry being a bounty hunter? You won't get any help from those Scottish fellas if he does make a play for you."
"If, if, if! Dammit, Chris! Listen to yerself! Ya sound like a hysterical ole woman! I ain't gonna run an' hide every time a stranger arrives in town, and I don't take t'being fussed over or treated like some green kid," Vin growled angrily.
The older man held up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "I know that, pard. I guess I was wrong before. Mebbe you should have faced Henry in town a few weeks ago, 'cos at least then we could have watched your back. That's why I'm uneasy about you going off alone now."
Grabbing hold of his horses rein, Vin opened the stall door and led out his black gelding, glancing over his shoulder as Chris followed him to the front yard. "Y'worry too much, cowboy. I can look after m'self — I bin doing it fer a helluva long time, y'know."
"Yeah, I know, but it must give you a good feeling t'know you ain't gotta keep coping alone, Vin. I ain't the only one who cares what happens to you. Hell, even Ezra expressed his concern, 'cos he say's you owe him from last night's poker game!" Chris' mouth twisted into a crooked grin, as he attempted to lighten the mood a little.
"Nice t'know I'd be missed!" Vin grunted, as he adjusted the saddle girth.
"That's Ezra. All heart!" Chris exclaimed, and then pursed his lips as he saw his friend start to mount up. "Ain't you gonna have breakfast before you go, Vin?"
"Nope. I ain't hungry."
Chris frowned as he recalled the previous evening's conversation in the saloon. "You said that last night about dinner, and you even refused Mrs Potter's freshly baked apple pie! Are you feeling alright, pard?"
"Now y'sound like Nathan! Hell, Chris, it'll be good t'get away fer a few days, so's I ain't gotta listen t'ya cluckin' on like a mammy hen! I'm FINE! Now quit ridin' me!" The tracker was annoyed by Chris' atypical attitude, but he hated leaving any of his friends after angry words so he forced himself to keep calm.
Knowing that the younger peacekeeper had reached the end of his tolerance, Chris offered up his right hand to his friend. Neither man spoke as their hands locked in a warm clasp and, touching his hat briefly, Vin kicked his horse into motion.
The tracker was only too aware of what was bothering the gunslinger but he couldn't avoid this confrontation with Will Henry any longer, and he knew that this problem wouldn't go away of its own accord. If there were a trap lying in wait for him, it would be best to spring it on his own terms.
Stuart James leaned back in his chair contentedly puffing on his cigar as he carefully surveyed his two ranching neighbours'. Guy Royal and Bryce Kehoe had ridden out to James ranch that morning to discuss the situation regarding the Scottish landowners and the three had formulated an idea that would allow them to keep abreast of most of Cummings' plans.
"So how do we get this fella of yours onto Cummings' payroll?" Royal asked the other rancher.
"S'done. My man got hired by Fielding when they took all them other hands on. I've already had some information from him too. How d'ya think I knew about the arrival of them Scotch animals?" James couldn't hide his smug grin when he saw the startled look on his fellow ranchers' faces.
"Yer a cunning fox, Stuart! Who ya got on the inside?" Royal wanted to know.
James tapped the side of his nose, exhaling out a stream of cigar smoke as he chuckled to himself. "That's fer me to know an' you t'guess. Let's just say I have complete faith in my spy's abilities. Now, the ranch is gonna be practically deserted fer the next few days, and I've already made the arrangements like we talked about before. Those hosses will fetch a good price in Mexico and, seein' as how I'm the one putting up the money in the first instance, then any profit will come t'me."
Kehoe's features twisted into a snarl, and he jumped out of his chair in anger. "Ya ain't the only one fronting dollars, James! I already paid out fer those men to wreck the corrals, and burn that barn, afore the Cummings' got to their ranch. When am I gonna see a return?"
"I already told ya Kehoe, that ya jumped the gun. Ya money'd been better spent once that foreign freeloader had got his stock in place. He can't breed from those Scotch cattle, if his prime bulls or cows are destroyed," James pointed out.
"Ya think yer so damned clever, James! I knew it was a mistake throwing m'self in wit' ya! What makes ya so sure that yer the only one who can get inside information on what Cummings is a'doin'?"
Kehoe's tone had an edge of defiance to it, and he felt a fleeting sense of superiority as he saw the astonished expressions on the faces of the two older men.
"What's wrong Kehoe, don't ya trust me t'keep ya updated on things?" James asked sarcastically.
"Yeah—to a certain degree. Anyhow, I've got my own means of finding out what's happening. I just don't choose t'share it with anyone else, that's all," Kehoe replied cagily.
"Suit yerself, but as I said at the beginning, we're in a much stronger position if we stick together. All of us have a vested interest in this, 'cos we can all profit if Cummings is driven out and that land is split up t'be sold off at a reduced rate."
Guy Royal's eyes lit up with greed at the thought of acquiring a third of the prime acreage, and he nodded solemnly at his neighbours comment. "Yep. Reckon we'd get a fair price if that fancy Lord ain't around, 'cos that younger whelp don't look t'be made of the same stuff as his brother."
"We're talking 'bout killing a man here ain't we? Murders a hanging offence, and I for one want to grow old an' enjoy the fruits of my labours!" Bryce Kehoe was alarmed by the direction this meeting was going; he knew how ruthless the two older ranchers could be, and wanted no hand in the slaughter of an innocent man.
"Calm down, Kehoe. We wouldn't be that obvious, although maybe a Scotsman might not be aware of the dangers out here. Accidents happen, and we can't be held accountable for that." James comment was supposed to be reassuring, but the hard glint in his eyes contradicted his words, and Kehoe gave an inward shudder.
Bryce Kehoe wasn't as rich, nor did he own as much land as the other men, and he suddenly hoped that he never did anything to antagonise either James or Royal. What had started out as a collective scheme to intimidate the new landowner was now turning into something more sinister, and not for the first time that day he felt somewhat out of his depth. Reaching across for his forgotten whiskey, he downed the drink in one gulp.
"Yeah. I've seen the result of yer 'accidents', but I won't have any dealings in setting up that kinda thing, James. Killing stock, burning property and scaring them foreigners, mebbe, but that's as far as I go, y'hear?" Kehoe rammed his hat on his head, as he got to his feet.
"We hear. I guess we should meet again next week, so we all know what's occurring. We're in this together Kehoe, and now ain't the time to be squeamish. This's our country, and we have a right to protect our interests. You just remember that when you sell your next herd, and don't get the price y'should for 'em," James asserted, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.
The younger man gave a resigned shake of his head, and touching his hat in farewell he walked from the room, completely unaware of the furtive looks exchanged by the two older ranchers.
"I hope we don't have a problem with him," Royal remarked as the door slammed behind the departing man.
Stuart James refilled his companion's glass with whiskey, frowning as he considered Kehoe's reaction. "I think he'll come around to our way of thinking, Guy. Course, if he becomes a liability then we could benefit even more. Kehoe's land added to Cummings is a much more agreeable prospect, and certainly worth taking risks for."
The two men lifted their glasses in salutation and the pair wore identical feral grins as they mulled over the potentially rewarding situation.
It was late afternoon and the sun was slowly dipping behind the distant hills as Vin Tanner scanned around the deserted terrain. The four men on the hunting trip had had a reasonably successful day, evidenced by the two dead wolves carried by the packhorse, but the good light was fading fast and they were now searching for a decent place to make camp for the night. Vin glanced over his shoulder as Howard Fraser drew level with him, smiling at the young Scotsman when the other clicked his tongue in irritation at the stubborn mare he led.
"She don't take much t'havin' them critters on her back, Howard. Reckon ya'll'd be a mite scared iffen ya were carrying summat that normally has ya fer dinner!" Vin drawled laconically.
"Aye, yer right there, Vin. Ye know, I think we've done well to find these two, so let's hope we have as much good fortune tomorrow, eh?" the blond ghillie said optimistically. The pair of wolves were juveniles and it would be hard to locate the remainder of the elusive pack, although the hunters felt sure they were searching in the correct vicinity.
"Yeah. It ain't gonna be easy though." Vin sighed, as he unconsciously kneaded his stomach with the heel of his hand.
"Weel, perhaps me Uncle Davey should break out his bagpipes to try and scare 'em out o' hiding!" Fraser grinned, nodding his head to the two older men who had ranged ahead.
"Bagpipes? I ain't never heard 'em before! What're they like, Howard?"
The younger man chuckled at his companion as he wondered how to describe the eerie, dirge-like lament of the traditional Scottish instrument. "Och, ye need t'hear them really, Vin. Bagpipe music's an acquired taste, but there's nothing finer to a Scot! Air goes through a large bladder and pipes, creating a bonny tune. I s'pose ye could call it a noisy bag of wind!"
"Hell, that sounds jes' like Buck! 'Specially when he's seen a gal he likes, or he's eaten Inez's chilli!" Vin laughed momentarily. The humour quickly ended as his sore abdomen protested the sudden movement and the tracker's fingers tightened on his reins as the burning ache in his guts flared up again. He'd been feeling unwell for several days, but the queasiness had subsided this morning and he'd been so absorbed in the hunt that there had been no time to think about how he felt. Taking a few steadying gulps of air, Vin looked up as Will Henry and Davey Mason cantered towards them.
The two older men of the party pulled a little ahead of the tracker and the blond American turned slightly to the younger Texan, as he spoke.
"There's a small stream ahead with some tree cover too, an' I reckon that'd be a good place as any to stop fer the night." The security boss waved to the right with his hand as he made the suggestion.
Giving nods of assent, the four men urged their mounts on, following Henry as he made for the spot he'd selected. Within twenty minutes they were setting up camp next to a rocky escarpment and, after watering and settling the horses, the two older men began organising a fire and a meal.
Vin put his tin plate on the ground next to him and, picking up his coffee cup, he took a hesitant sip of the hot, strong brew, his warm breath mixing with the steam as it plumed in front of his face The sun had fully set thirty minutes ago and the glinting crescent moon hung in the clear sky like a cold sliver of ice.
The tracker looked up as Will Henry sauntered over to his side holding a refilled plate of stew and, carefully balancing the meal, the older Texan sat down beside the younger man.
"I know it ain't as good as Mrs Jones at the restaurant, but I allus thought I was a mite handy wit' campfire cookin'. As m'pa used t'say, git them fixin's down ya, boy!" Henry casually gestured with his fork to the tracker's untouched plate of food, his teeth gleaming in the meagre light offered by the fire.
At the older man's comment Vin drew in a long shuddering breath, suddenly feeling light-headed as the vaguely familiar saying tugged at a long-buried memory. Turning his head sharply towards Henry, the tracker frowned in confusion as a half forgotten picture of his grandfather inexplicably sprang into his mind and he suddenly recalled those very words being said by the old man many years previous.
"W...w.. what did y'say?" Vin stammered, as he attempted to control his whirling thoughts.
Henry scooped another forkful of stew into his mouth, chewing slowly as he studied the ashen-faced man at his side. "It's bin a long day and ya ain't eaten nuthin'. Ya'll ain't but skin an' bones, son, so y'need t'git them fixin's down ya," he finally repeated.
Staring in shock at the other man, Vin's stomach did a slow queasy roll and, for a moment, he thought he would throw up. Taking another steadying gulp of cold air, he hunched his head down as a poignant memory rolled into his mind.
'Grandpa, ya know I don't eat greens! Ma never made me 'cos she knew I warn't no rabbit!' The high-pitched voice of an eight-year-old boy held a plaintive ring to it, but the wise old-timer was used to dealing with the pernickety youngster at mealtimes.
'Now then Vin, ya'll ain't but skin an' bones, so ya'd best git them fixin's down ya!'
'Yes, Grandpa.'
The tracker closed his eyes in sorrow as his grandfather's words came back to him and Vin's hand shook so badly he spilled some of the coffee from his cup.
Tossing his now empty plate to one side, Will Henry looked at the shaken tracker, his blue eyes showing their concern. "Vin? Are ya alright?"
Swallowing convulsively, the peacekeeper nodded but he had to admit that he felt far from well; the cramping in his stomach had increased as the day had progressed and the smell of food had made him feel nauseous. The tracker knew it wasn't just the strange resurfacing of childhood memories that caused his inner turmoil as even the coffee made him gag a little, alarming him further.
Vin shook his head in refusal as Davey Mason strolled over offering a refill of coffee to the two Americans and the tracker's guts churned again as the aromatic smell of the strong brew wafted past his nose.
"Thanks, Davey." Henry saw the strained expression on the younger man's face, but refrained from saying anything.
The four men were lost in their own thoughts for some time and all that could be heard was the normal night time sounds as various nocturnal creatures roamed the range. The yapping of a coyote close by startled Vin out of his reverie and his keen eyes scanned the perimeter of the camp.
Henry drew his knees up and, circling his arms around them, he turned his head and casually gazed in Vin's direction. "Yer a good tracker, Vin. I don't reckon we'd have managed t'find them two wolves without yer help," he suddenly remarked.
"Warn't difficult. After all the rain we've had it was real easy t'pick up the tracks," Vin commented. There was something about the older man's manner that perplexed the tracker and, for a fleeting second, he had the vague impression that he knew the Texan, although he couldn't recall ever hearing the surname Henry before. Vin gave an involuntary shiver as the other's piercing blue eyes rested on him, but just as quickly as the feeling of familiarity welled up, it was swiftly gone again.
The peacekeeper frowned, but his instincts were screaming at him that something wasn't quite right. It seemed as if Henry wanted to say something to him but was struggling to find the right words, although Vin didn't detect any threat in the man's puzzling attitude.
The Americans hadn't really spoken much during the day being intent on the job in hand, but it was obvious that the Scottish pair both had a healthy respect for the blond security boss and had complete trust in the man. Pushing aside his mildly confusing thoughts, the tracker wrapped his freezing hands around his still warm cup in a vain attempt to warm them up. He was relieved that the discomfort in his stomach had subsided a little, although he was beginning to suspect that there was something wrong with him as, all day, he'd alternated between icy chills and hot sweats.
"I'm pleased we've got this chance t'be out here alone. Vin, there's summat I need t'tell ya." Will Henry inched closer to the young Texan as he quietly spoke.
Vin hastily transferred his cup to his left hand and his right edged down to the butt of his Winchester as he gave the older man a sharp look. Had Chris been right after all and the man had merely been waiting for the right opportunity to take him for the five hundred dollar bounty?
"Relax, Vin. I'm no threat t'ya. Jes' hear me out fer a few minutes," Henry coaxed in a hushed tone. "I had another reason fer coming to Four Corners. Fer some time now, I've bin looking fer someone and I got word that he was livin' in this area. There ain't no easy way t'say this, but m'name ain't Will Henry."
"So? What's that t'me?" Vin blinked in confusion, and he could feel the rapid pounding of his heart as he waited to hear more.
The older man leaned over, and put his mouth to the tracker's ear so that only the peacekeeper could hear what he had to say. "I'm Will Tanner, an' I know yer m'son, Vin."
Vin's breath caught in his throat and he heard a loud roaring in his ears as his stunned brain tried to make sense of what he'd just been told.
"No! Yer lying!" The half full coffee cup fell from his trembling fingers and Vin surged to his feet, the hot denial spilling from his lips as he stared in horror at the older man.
Mason and Fraser looked up in alarm at the peacekeeper's angry retort and, placing a restraining hand on his nephew's arm, the older Scot hastened over to the two Americans.
"Is something wrong, Will?" the ghillie enquired, his intuitive gaze taking in the shocked demeanour of the tracker.
"Nope." The older Texan climbed to his feet, laying a firm hand on Vin's shoulder but the tracker angrily shook the man away and, ignoring the quizzical look on Mason's face, he stumbled off in the direction of the stream.
The two older men watched as the peacekeeper disappeared behind a small ridge and, with a heavy sigh, the blond Texan rubbed distractedly at his face. "It's alright, Davey, jes' leave him t'me. We'll be back shortly," he promised the concerned-looking Scotsman.
Vin sat with his back to the rocky bank side, his head resting on his drawn up knees as he tried to sort out the whirling emotions running through him. He felt like his whole world had just been torn apart and everything that he had believed in had altered in a split second. How dare this stranger suddenly come into his life and pretend to be his family! His father was dead—wasn't he?
The tracker was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he failed to hear the approach of his fellow countryman, not even reacting when the older man sat down next to him.
"M'sorry fer givin' ya a shock, son, but y'need t'hear what I've gotta say." The man reached into his jacket pocket for a small leather hipflask and, tugging off the stopper, he took a long pull of the whiskey.
"Vin," he began once again, "I was in prison when yer ma died an' I couldn't come fer ya, but that didn't mean I warn't thinkin' of ya. It took six months fer the letter t'reach me sayin' that m'darlin' Rosie had bin taken by putrid fever, but I was told that yer Grandpa had taken ya in and that gave me some comfort."
At the mention of his mother's name, Vin's head jerked up and he stared stonily at the other man. "How dare ya speak 'bout my ma! Is this some kinda sick joke, Henry? Jes' leave me alone 'fore I plant a bullet in yer lyin' mouth!"
"I ain't lyin', an' I can prove yer m'son, Vin. Yer Grandpa's name was George Vincent Tanner and he lived near a town called Grendon, in the western hills. M'pa was a fine hunter and tracker, so I guess you take after him fer that."
"I...I don't believe ya! Yer jes' guessin', Henry! Ya know nuthin' 'bout me or m'folks!" Vin spat out scornfully, but the seed of doubt was starting to grow in his mind and his hand crept into his jacket pocket, feeling the comforting metal of his grandfather's harmonica.
"I know this must be hard fer ya t'take in, son, but I am yer father. I've bin searching for ya fer some time, but when I saw ya today I felt like I'd seen a ghost. Ya look so like yer dear sweet mama an' m'guts were doin' flip-flops by jes' seein' ya. Look Vin, ask me anything y'want 'bout our family an' I'll prove t'ya that I'm tellin' the truth."
"M'pa's dead, an' I ain't gonna talk of it wit' a snoopin', no account stranger!" The tracker turned his head away, pointedly ignoring the other's sigh of frustration.
"Who told ya I was dead? It wouldn't've bin yer ma," the security boss said with conviction. "Rosie knew where I was, but mebbe she didn't want t'upset ya by sayin' I was locked away. Did yer Grandpa tell ya I was dead? Vin? I'd really like t'know, son." The older man's voice was quietly persuasive and he smiled gently as the peacekeeper stared at him.
It had been some time since he had thought of his beloved grandfather and, swallowing at the hard lump in his throat, Vin nodded slowly. "I asked him once, an' he said m'pa'd bin killed in a robbery. Grandpa wuz 'shamed an'...an' I saw tears in his eyes when he told me, so I didn't speak of it ag'in. He wuz a strong man but that hurt him. I didn't know no other pa, 'ceptin' him, and we were happy until..."
Vin dragged his sleeve across his eyes as his emotions threatened to overspill. This stranger seemed to know much about his family and everything he'd said thus far tied in with the little that Vin could remember. So, was Will Henry really his father?
Seeing the look on the peacekeeper's face, the older man could see that Vin was beginning to question what he had been told all those years ago and, taking a deep breath, he decided to press home his advantage.
"D'ya remember yer Grandpa's harmonica, Vin? There's a story of how m'pa came by that, and I can tell ya what was engraved on the edge of it too. Will that convince ya, son?"
"No! Yes! No! I...I don't know. Oh Lord, why don't ya jes' leave m'be?" Many different emotions assaulted the bewildered tracker and he hung his head as he tried to keep a firm grip on his feelings.
Placing a sympathetic hand on Vin's shoulder, the older Texan ignored the other's beseeching request and started to relate his story. "M'pa, yer Grandpa, Vin, he was good friends wit' Jim Bowie." Vin's head shot up, his mouth forming the name of the famous Texas hero as he wondered what he was about to be told.
With a grin, Henry nodded vigorously. "Yep—the James Bowie. They fought together against the Mexicans and pa was at the Alamo. Somehow he survived — only a handful did, y'know. Anyhow, when he finally got home after recovering from his injuries, the townsfolk in Grendon had a celebration in his honour. What a day o' partyin' that was! They also presented him wit' a silver mouth organ as a token of their respect. Inscribed on the side it read, 'George Vincent Tanner — 1836'. Pa was real proud o' that li'l harmonica, an' I can jes' see him sitting on his cabin porch playin' it!"
A cold shiver passed through the tracker, and his hand clutched tighter on the tiny musical instrument in his pocket as his grandfather's name and the hitherto enigmatic date repeated over and over in his mind. Vin had believed that the only people who knew of this inscription were Chris Larabee and Nathan Jackson, as it was not something he had shared with any other living person, and he'd managed to keep the treasured instrument safely hidden during the years of being alone.
Now, hearing the older man's narrative, Vin knew that only a member of his own family would be able to describe so accurately the wording on the harmonica and this, coupled with the mention of his mother's name, finally convinced the tracker that he was hearing the truth. Even the name of the town closest to where his grandfather lived had struck a chord and the peacekeeper's mind kept flashing on a small log cabin nestled in the hills.
"D'ya remember seein' y'Grandpa's harmonica, Vin?"
Swallowing noisily the tracker gave a short nod and, drawing out his hand, he displayed the tarnished harmonica.
"Lord! I never thought I'd see this ag'in," the older man breathed, and reverently took the offered instrument, turning it over in his hand. Putting it to his lips, he blew a few experimental notes before playing a few bars of a jaunty tune. With a crooked smile he passed the harmonica to Vin who snatched it angrily and thrust it back into his jacket pocket.
"Where were ya when Grandpa died? Why'd it take ya all these years t'come lookin' fer me? What d'ya want from me now?" Vin blurted out heatedly, and he gasped as he realised that he had just acknowledged Will Henry — or should he say, Will Tanner—as his father.
"I'm sorry, son, but there was no way I could reach ya. Vin, I've done things I'm not proud of, but I jes' want the chance t'git to know ya now. Please give me some time t'be wit' ya. We may not have another opportunity, son." The older man's voice was persuasive and he placed his hand on the shocked tracker's arm.
"Sorry! Why should I believe ya! Y'wait all these years t'find me an' then expect me t'welcome ya with open arms! Why didn't ya send word after ma died?" Vin spat out hoarsely, his blue eyes wide in an accusatory glare.
"I did. Ya Grandpa an' me argued 'bout things and he never replied to m'letters." Tanner bit at his lower lip, as a look of contrition flitted over his features. With a sad shake of his head, he continued to explain. "Pa was a law abiding man and I s'pose he couldn't understand what made me do the things I did. Vin, ya have m'word that I never killed anyone but I did take part in a robbery. I ain't proud of that but I paid m'dues in prison. That's why I couldn't come fer ya. After I got out, I had nuthin' t'offer ya except a bad reputation and a whole pile of grief, so I reckoned ya'd be better off without me."
"At least we'd have bin together! I needed ya, an' y'let me down. How can I forgive that?" The older man flinched at the tracker's bitter words, closing his eyes sorrowfully at his son's reproachful stare.
"Mebbe ya shouldn't forgive me, Vin. Lord knows, I ain't done nuthin' fer ya, so I can't really expect to receive much from ya after failing so badly as a father."
"Is that all ya got t'say? All those years apart and that's it! I thought y'were dead, dammit!" Vin cried angrily. Leaping to his feet, he hugged his left arm into his protesting stomach, grimacing as a sharp burning spasm lanced through his guts. Looking down at the older man, he shook his head in utter confusion.
"Jes' leave me alone," Vin muttered. This mind-blowing knowledge had left him completely numb, and what he needed now was some solitude.
"All I'm asking fer is a chance. Please don't shut me out completely, Vin. Jes' give it some time," the blond Texan implored.
Vin made no reply, and the older man watched nervously as the other slowly walked away. Will Tanner had guessed that his disclosure would have a profound impact on his son, so he wasn't surprised by the young man's heated but bewildered response. He had known for some time the whereabouts of Vin and, on arriving in Four Corners, the Texan had spent many sleepless nights wrangling over how to approach the tracker and, more importantly, what to say to him. The thought of his son angrily rejecting him had been part of the reason for his reticence, but the wolf hunt had provided Tanner with the perfect opportunity to talk to the younger man, so that he could at least try and explain what had happened to keep them apart.
The security boss had learned much about the seven peacekeepers in Four Corners and several garrulous townsfolk had narrated tales of their courageous exploits and deeds to him. Tanner could tell that many people in the area held his son in high esteem; Vin was an honourable, hard-working man, a deadly fighter who was loyal to his friends, steadfast in his beliefs, and an excellent sharpshooter. Everything the Texan had been told made the older man sincerely regret missing the boy's formative development from childhood into adult life and he knew that he was a fool for not seeking out his exceptional son earlier. As he stared at the younger man's departing back, he fervently hoped they would be able to form some type of relationship and be together. Nothing could ever replace what had been denied both father and son, but Tanner prayed that he would be given the time to make some recompense for the lost years.
Vin walked along the edge of the dark stream, although he kept the campsite within eyesight, as he was aware of the hidden dangers of the open countryside at night, especially to a man on foot. The startling revelations of the last hour had stunned him beyond belief and his battered mind was still reeling from all this unforeseen information as he desperately tried to make sense of what he'd been told.
It was hard to say what his exact feelings were, as he felt completely overwhelmed by an assortment of emotions; although anger, regret, self-pity and despair were the main contenders for dominance. There was hostility too, and not a little apprehension, as he wondered how having a father might affect him after all the years of being alone. Would his life be drastically different now that he knew he had surviving kin? And why hadn't he ever been told that his father still lived? Another horrifying thought crept into Vin's mind, gripping his inner soul with a fearful intensity. Was there more about his family that he didn't know? How many other secrets were hidden away?
There only seemed to be questions stacking up at the moment, although he was certain that his unsettled state was not being helped by his worsening physical condition. The tracker certainly wasn't ready to take in any more at the moment and, with a heavy sigh, he began to make his way back to the other men. Reaching the large tree where the horses were picketed, Vin suddenly felt a piercing stab of pain shoot through his abdomen and the severity of the fiery spasm drove all cohesive thought from his mind. With a loud groan he doubled over, clutching at his middle.
"Vin!"
Howard Fraser and Davey Mason had seen the young Texan return to the camp area and, scrambling to their feet, the two Scots hurried over to the stricken man.
Vin's breath was coming in quick ragged gulps and sweat rolled down his face as he pushed his forearms tighter into his stomach to try and relieve the excruciating pain. The agonising cramps made him feel faint and, falling to his knees as his shaky legs gave out on him, he swallowed convulsively as the bile rose in his throat. The tracker's eyes were squeezed tightly closed as the red mists threatened to overwhelm him and he wasn't even aware of the concerned men at his side.
"What's happened?" Will Tanner had heard Fraser's alarmed cry and hastened across to the three men.
Crouching down beside his obviously ailing son, the older man put an arm around Vin's back and intently studied the other's pain racked features.
"Vin! What's wrong, son? Where d'ya hurt?" the blond Texan asked worriedly.
Words formed in the tracker's head but he seemed unable to get them past his tightly clenched teeth and all he could do was lean against the strong presence at his side, as he tried to ride out the intense pain.
"Howard, can ya organise Vin's bedroll and blanket?" Tanner requested tersely.
Mason's perturbed gaze locked with the anxious blue eyes of the older Texan. "D'ye think he's eaten somethin' bad, Will? Has he been sick at all, d'ye know?" he asked softly.
Tanner shook his head briefly, frowning as he put a cool hand to Vin's sweaty forehead. "I don't think so. He barely ate or drank anythin' this evening, but I thought he looked a mite peaky earlier. He feels quite hot, but this ain't like any chill or gut ache that I've seen before."
Looking around to where the blond ghillie had laid out the tracker's bed, the American gestured to his colleague. "Let's see if we can get him more comfortable. I'm not sure he can walk by hisself, so ya'd best take his other arm, Davey."
The two older men carefully drew Vin up to a stooping position, and supporting the young Texan they managed to lead him to the waiting bedroll. With a low moan, the tracker sank down, immediately curling up on his side to face the fire.
Shaking out the blanket, Tanner covered his son, and taking hold of an unresisting hand he put his fingers to Vin's wrist, his face grim as he felt the tracker's racing pulse.
"Vin? Can ya tell me how y'feel? Vin? C'mon, son, I can't help ya if I don't know what the problem is," Tanner gently coaxed, as he leaned closer to the motionless peacekeeper.
Vin's eyelids fluttered a little and he twisted his head around slightly as he tried to focus on the older man. The sharp pain was pulsating through his back and stomach and he was unable to concentrate on anything around him. The tracker had broken bones before and received numerous knife and bullet wounds, but they now seemed minor in comparison to the agony he was currently experiencing. Sucking in a shuddering breath, Vin squinted at the blond Texan hovering anxiously over him and, licking his dry lips, he attempted to speak once again.
"Hell! It's... like a hot knife twisting in... m'belly! Lord...it h.. hhurts!" he managed to gasp, grimacing as another searing pain engulfed him.
Gently rubbing the tracker's taut back, Tanner glanced up at the worried-looking Scotsmen and then, pulling the blanket up to Vin's shoulders, the older man got to his feet.
Gesturing with his head to his two colleagues, the security boss strode over to where the horses stood and the three grouped together to discuss the situation.
"This doesn't look too good. S'got a fever, an' his hearts galloping summat fierce, but I'm more worried at the amount of pain he's in. Davey, we need t'get him to a doctor." Tanner gazed thoughtfully at the sick Texan as he made his quiet pronouncement and he wondered whether his son could hold on until they were able to get him to medical aid.
Davey Mason nodded emphatically as the knowledgeable ghillie could see that the young tracker was in a bad way and needed immediate medical attention. The job of finding and killing the rogue wolf pack was vital to the safety of Robert Cummings' prize stock, but it wasn't worth risking the life of Vin Tanner to see a successful conclusion to the hunt.
"Aye. The lad's health is our priority now so, if he's no better by morning, then I reckon we should settle fer the two varmints we have an' have another go at this in a few days time. Will, I suggest we go back to the ranch; it's less than a mornings ride away, an' MacIntyre's there," Mason stated firmly. Looking up at the star dotted sky, the Scot rubbed at his chin as he chewed over the problem. "Ach, it's goin' t'be a cauld night, an' that puir laddie will need some shelter. Howard, drag that tarp off them wolves. Will, the lad an' me'll build a bivvy, an' then at least Vin'll have some protection from the weather."
The older Texan nodded gratefully, relieved that Mason had recommended that they return to the ranch. The security boss knew how important the hunt was but his main concern at the moment was for his son. "Thanks, Davey. I'll see if I can get his fever down some but, apart from that, I dunno what else t'do. I jes' hope the doc can help him," Tanner muttered apprehensively.
The blond American had seen similar symptoms once before, but he resolutely pushed away the feeling of helplessness as he prepared to do all he could to make Vin more comfortable. During the past twenty or so years all Will Tanner had needed to worry about was himself but, with the discovery and partial reconciliation of his only living kin, he could see that many things in his life would change. He was beginning to feel a fatherly responsibility and this submerged paternal emotion had suddenly increased with the realisation that the younger man was seriously ill.
Tanner crouched down beside the tracker and touched him lightly on the shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief when Vin eventually responded to his presence.
"Vin. Don't ya worry, son. We'll get ya sorted in no time, but in a whiles I'm gonna move ya under a covering, 'cos ya'll got a bit o' a fever, an' it's a mite cold tonight."
The younger man frowned and his features were somewhat fearful, but he gave an imperceptible nod of his head as he watched the two Scotsmen expertly build a small bivouac on the other side of the campfire.
"W... what's wrong wit' me?" the tracker asked in a tired voice, squeezing his eyes shut again, as another wave of white-hot pain washed over him. "Argh! Hell! S'like m'guts're on fire!"
Tanner picked up a canteen of water and, pouring some onto his bandana that he'd removed, he proceeded to sponge Vin's face, talking in a soothing voice to the stricken man.
"Easy, Vin. I'm sorry, but I don't know what's causing this, and I ain't got anything fer yer pain neither. We'll get ya to a doctor in the morning. Y'hear?"
"N...nnathan?" Vin croaked, as a picture of his friend came into his addled brain.
"Nope. I'm gonna take ya t'MacIntyre. He's a real clever doctor an' the ranch is closer. Yer sweatin' like a Chinaman in a washhouse, so d'ya reckon ya can manage some water?" The security boss lifted the canteen to Vin's mouth, supporting the younger man's head as he encouraged the tracker to drink.
"Urgh! I'd prefer a whiskey!" the peacekeeper grumbled, after he'd taken a few cautious swallows.
"Yeah, I 'spect ya would!" Tanner chuckled. "But liquor might cause yer belly more grief, so I ain't gonna take the risk! Now c'mon son, let's try an' get ya more comfy." The older man had caught the thumbs up signal from Davey Mason, and he carefully eased Vin into a sitting position as the Scotsman came over. The tracker couldn't help gasping in agony as the older men managed to get him standing and, with Vin leaning heavily against his father, the three slowly made their way over to the small tent that the Scots had erected. With Mason's assistance, Tanner soon had Vin's upper body under the rough shelter and, after grabbing a spare cover from his own pack, the blond security boss quickly settled his son.
It was some time later and Tanner quietly got to his feet, stretching his tall frame upright to get the knots from his back before bending down to pick up the hot coffee pot. Glancing over to where the two sleeping ghillies were tightly wrapped up in their blankets, the security boss poured himself another cup of coffee, adding a generous splash of whiskey from his hip flask.
Of all the things that he had thought might happen tonight, this unexpected turn of events had caught him completely by surprise and he hadn't dreamed that he would spend the evening caring for a sick man. Vin had finally fallen into a fitful doze, but Tanner could see that the tracker was still in severe pain and, despite the older man's efforts to reduce his son's fever, perspiration continued to bead the peacekeeper's face and neck.
With a heavy sigh, the older man sat back down on his own bedroll and, wrapping a blanket around him, he patiently waited for the new dawn. Time would be a critical factor once daylight arrived and, if he was correct in his suspicion about what was wrong with his son, then he would need to get Vin to Andrew MacIntyre as quickly as possible. He just hoped the younger man could hold on until the morning.
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