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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Samuel Joseph finished rolling his cigarette, distractedly tapping the ends on his wrist to compact the tobacco as he leaned back in his chair. Pulling a match from his pocket, he lit the weed, dragging thoughtfully on the cigarette while he studied the young men sitting around the table.
The Texan had been in the town of Eagle Bend for a couple of days, keeping a low profile as he worked out a strategy for his current employers, and also formulated a plan to achieve his own goals. He was only too aware that he would need additional manpower if he were to pull off all of his objectives and as a result had spent most of the time at O'Flaherty's saloon whilst he sought out likely men to hire for the chore. It hadn't taken long to find two men willing to take some risks in exchange for a substantial payment—not that Joseph had any intention of keeping to that part of the agreement. Leaving witnesses was not an option for the cunning outlaw, and it was mainly due to this ruthless measure that he'd always managed to evade the clutches of the law. It was a simple guarantee for his personal safety—dead men couldn't talk!
Jeb Randall and Ian Martin had been idling around Eagle Bend after their unsuccessful attempt to get work as Cummings' ranch hands. The pair held a grudge against the Scottish rancher for rejecting them and, when Joseph heard them openly badmouthing Howard Fraser, Will Tanner and JD Dunne, he'd immediately offered the disgruntled men a job. Joseph had then been surprised when Bryce Kehoe's eldest son had unexpectedly approached him.
Danny Kehoe, Gareth Royal, Mark James and Alan Thompson knew about the cattle barons' scheme to drive out Robert Cummings and, keen to show their elders that they were capable of dealing with the Scottish landowner, they had tracked Joseph into Eagle Bend. Following a short discussion, the older Texan had agreed to a more detailed meeting in the saloon.
"So where we gonna get this here dynamite from, huh? That old fool Watson is real tight with Larabee and his pards, and he'll be suspicious if one of us goes in to buy stuff like that," Danny Kehoe muttered in a petulant voice as the conversation petered out. The sixteen year-old was the most impatient of the group, and he was anxious to hear more about the Texan's tactics to wipe out Cummings' stock.
Gareth Royal, younger half-brother to Guy, was the spokesman and undisputed ringleader of the four ranch hands from Four Corners. He was also the oldest and the richest of this younger generation of the prominent ranching families, so the other men grudgingly deferred to his leadership. Leaning forward, he held up a hand in a conciliatory wave, and growled out a warning to the over-enthusiastic Kehoe. "Patience, Danny! Let the man finish his smoke. And keep ya voice down too! We don't want folk hearing 'bout our business. Here ya go, Mark! Make yerself useful and get in some more beers."
The stocky, blond ranch hand deftly caught the silver coin Royal flipped at him and, giving a curt nod he swaggered over to the bar. At the age of twenty-two, Mark James was several years younger than Royal, but the viciously boastful man thought he was one of the hardest rocks ever quarried and was eager to show his Uncle Stuart that he could succeed where the Mexican bandits had failed. It had infuriated James that his boss had excluded him from the meetings with his neighbouring ranchers, and it had been his idea to team up with his three friends to deal with the Scotsman. The hot-headed youngster had been further incensed that his kinsman had not allowed him to ride into town to call out Chris Larabee, after the gunslinger had defended Robert Cummings against the three cattle barons.
Now it appeared that the youngest of the James clan had the means to prove that he was ready to handle some of the illicit chores that had always been dealt with by his older brother Lucas. In addition, he was eagerly anticipating the day when he would finally get even with the peacekeepers in Four Corners.
Setting the drinks down on the table, James slouched back into his seat before turning his attention to Samuel Joseph. "D'ya reckon this idea of your'n will work then?" he asked the older man.
"Yep. I've spent a considerable 'mount o' time looking at the area where those Scotch cows are kept, and conditions are jes' right fer pullin' this off. The Chaipas is swollen an' running high 'cos o' this constant rain, so all ya need t'do is make sure ya use enough dynamite on that bluff above Coyote Pass. Nature'll do the rest, as that river dams. Cummings breeding stock won't stand a chance when that valley floods. An' ya ain't got no fuss 'bout getting the explosives, 'cos I've already handled that m'self. Two young fellas I've took on to help us, are loading a wagon as we speak." Joseph quietly explained.
"What about Larabee and those interferin' bastards from town? They're gonna have a fair idea of who's behind this attack. Danny's pa's already bin warned off, an' those seven have had it in fer m'uncle and Gareth's brother, ever since that stiff-necked Judge Travis took 'em on. Or are we yer scapegoats, while you take yer payment and run?" There was a hostile tone to Mark James' voice as he asked the question.
"Now ya were the ones who sought me out, son," Joseph said pointedly. "Yer kinfolks are mighty powerful men, so I ain't gonna do anything t'make 'em come gunnin' fer me! But I respect caution in a man—it keeps ya alive! An' don't ya worry none 'bout Larabee an' his men, 'cos what I've got in mind fer those seven won't be traced back to anyone. By the time I'm done, those hombres'll have their own problems t'deal with an' won't have time to poke their noses into Cummings' troubles."
"I wanted to handle that black-dressed bastard m'self. Alan an' me swore we'd get even after they sent down my brother," growled James.
"An' ya think yer fast 'nough to catch the man out, huh? Way I heard it, Larabee eats, chews up an' then spits out fellas like ya—an' that's all afore breakfast! No, my way is better. Ya four deal with Cummings, an' leave the rest t'me." Joseph flicked his cigarette away as he finished speaking, taking no notice of the furious scowl that twisted Mark James' features.
"Climb down from your lofty perch for a moment, Mark!" Royal's hasty warning was aimed at the annoyed-looking James and he placed a placating but firm hand on his friend's arm. "If Mr Joseph says he'll take on Larabee, then I think we should let him see to things. We're all agreed that those damned lawmen need teaching some manners, so just let the man do his job and we can all benefit without having to take any risks."
Danny Kehoe and Alan Thompson nodded at their older friend's sage words.
"It makes sense, Mark. We know how fast Larabee is and there ain't one o' us quick 'nough t'beat him to the draw," Thompson asserted, grinning as his work colleague eventually nodded in acceptance of Royal's suggestion.
Joseph smiled smugly. The meeting had gone well, and it now looked like he would have plenty of help in bringing about the demise of the newly arrived businessman. "That's all settled then, huh? Now I'm heading back to Cummings land today, 'cos there are still a few things I need to work out an' set-up. I want ya all to meet me this time next week, at that abandoned cabin a few miles east o' Devils Fork. An' keep all o' this to yerselves, y'hear? I don't want nuthin' slipping out if one o' ya gets drunk. The less who know 'bout what's happening, the safer it'll be fer us all," the Texan quietly drawled.
Having finished their drinks the four ranch hands got to their feet and headed out of the door. Samuel Joseph watched them go, a half smile playing on his lips as he considered his next move. The knife he'd left for his former partner to find had not brought about the expected response; Tanner had not even bothered to seek him out, which was surprising considering what was at stake. Joseph knew that Vin Tanner was still at Cummings' ranch, and although he'd been unable to find out what was wrong with the young peacekeeper, he'd guessed this was the reason for the pair's delay in leaving for Grendon. Perhaps it was time to pay his old friend a personal visit and finally set things straight.
Buck Wilmington nudged his mount closer to the small wooden cabin, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as his gaze swept around the deserted Larabee smallholding. The tall peacekeeper wasn't sure what kind of reception he would get from his oldest friend, but he'd resolved not to leave the cabin until he had spoken to the gunslinger.
Chris had been out at his property for four days, leaving Four Corners without a word of explanation and only stopping long enough in town to purchase essential supplies at the General Store, plus two bottles of whiskey from Inez. No one had been more surprised by the man in black's precipitous departure that day than the ladies' man.
Buck had expected his three friends to be back in town late afternoon or early evening, following their visit to Vin at the Cummings' ranch but, having seen Chris ride in—unexpectedly and more worryingly, alone—he'd hurried along the main thoroughfare to find out what was wrong. The gunslinger had at first ignored his oldest friend but when Buck had incessantly asked if there was a problem with the sick tracker, Chris had swung up a hard fist, knocking the astonished ladies' man flat on his back in the muddy street. That action had spoken volumes to the tall peacekeeper as he knew Chris of old; the black dressed man needed to be on his own for a time, while he came to terms with whatever was tearing him apart. Not that Buck had had to wait long to find out the reason for his friend's aggressive behaviour.
Nathan Jackson had walked into his clinic just as darkness had fallen, to be immediately confronted by the concerned-looking Buck Wilmington, Ezra Standish and JD Dunne. The healer had then quickly explained to his three friends all that had transpired at the Cummings' ranch and, when the ladies' man informed Nathan of Chris' sudden disappearance from town, the former slave had nodded knowingly. Josiah had almost been correct in his predictions and it looked as if the gunslinger was going to effectively cut himself off from everyone for the foreseeable future.
However, the ladies' man was not going to allow his friend to wallow in self-pity. Not this time. There were things that needed to be said and Buck was probably the only man, next to Vin Tanner, who could break through the gunslinger's tightly locked barriers. The moustached peacekeeper had deliberately let things slide for three days, but on the fourth morning, with still no sign of the gunslinger, Buck had breakfasted early and then sped out of Four Corners heading for Chris Larabee's cabin.
"Chris!"
Buck dismounted after calling out to his friend, his eyes surveying the area as he led his grey mare to the small corral where the gunslinger's black gelding stood inquisitively eyeing the new arrivals.
"He can run, but he can't hide, eh girl?" the tall peacekeeper said to his horse as he began to loosen the saddle girth. He had just finished the chore and turned the grey out into the corral when he saw Chris appear from behind the cabin, a dead rabbit in his left hand and his revolver in the other.
On seeing his friend, the gunslinger quickly re-holstered his gun but said nothing as he entered the cabin, deliberately ignoring the ladies' man when the other followed him inside.
A loud thump made Chris whirl around, his eyebrows furrowing in puzzlement as he saw the full whiskey bottle that his friend had just slammed down on the table.
"What's that for?" the gunslinger growled.
"Figured you'd done the two you bought out here, so I thought mebbe you wanted more." Buck's keen gaze saw Chris' generally unkempt state; dark stubble covered his chin and the fair hair was dishevelled and greasy-looking. By the look of his rumpled, stained clothing the other man had neither bathed, nor properly dressed for several days.
"'Preciate it," Chris drawled, as he went over to the table. Picking up the bottle he flipped off the cork stopper and then took a long swig of the whiskey.
Buck was silent as he watched the other swallow a good measure of the fiery liquid. "Why don'tcha just down the rest, Chris? 'Cos when you pass out in a heap on the floor, p'rhaps then you won't feel anythin', nor realise what a complete bastard you are!"
Chris' hazel eyes narrowed dangerously but apart from that the gunslinger didn't react. Placing the bottle back on the table, he pulled a knife from a scabbard hanging by the small stove and, clutching the rabbit, he strode back outside.
Taking a deep breath, Buck also went out, surreptitiously looking at his friend as the other began gutting and skinning the dead animal on a solid wooden block by the water trough. There was an intense ferocity about Chris' activity that made the tall peacekeeper keep his distance, although he was reasonably confident his oldest friend posed no threat to him. However, Buck had witnessed the Larabee temper on many occasions, and it would be prudent for any man to keep a wary eye on the unpredictable gunslinger whilst he held a knife in his hand.
"That's a tolerable pile of anger to be taking out on that poor ole Coney! Or do you prefer your meat cut up small these days?" Buck asked, watching in morbid fascination as Chris shredded the bloody carcass.
"What makes you think I'm angry?"
"'Cos I know you, Chris. You haven't even asked after Vin, but then, you wouldn't would you? Chris Larabee would rather bury his head in the sand and pretend there ain't a problem."
"As far as I'm concerned there isn't a problem," Chris muttered, as he rinsed the knife in the trough. After safely tucking the blade in his belt, the gunslinger scooped up the dissected meat and headed back into the cabin.
"Dammit, Buck! Are you gonna follow and hound me all day?" the gunslinger spat out angrily, as the ladies' man appeared in the doorway again.
"Yeah, probably," Buck answered unconcernedly. "Talk to me, Chris. Tell me why you're so mad at Vin. I'm telling you pard, I ain't going 'til I've got some sort of explanation for that boy."
Chris blinked in astonishment and, to hide his confusion, he began throwing ingredients into the cooking pot now containing the rabbit meat. There was an uneasy silence for a time as he finished preparing the stew, but as he carefully placed the vessel on the stovetop, the gunslinger turned to face his oldest friend. "I'm not mad at Vin. So you can leave now, and tell him that's what I said."
Buck grinned disarmingly, shuffling his feet almost as if embarrassed. "Oh, I know that! I just wanted to be sure that you did too. There's only one person you're really angry at, and he's in front of me right now!"
"I'm angry with myself? What kinda crap is that? You been out in the sun too long, Buck? 'Cos summat's sure scrambled your brain!"
"Nope, I ain't loco, but I can see when my friend's in pain! I know you're furious for allowing yourself to care for someone again, and you're also scared that you'll lose that special person who's somehow burrowed his way into your heart. Chris, you're like an open book to me and ever since you met that sassy, cussin', grub guzzling, long-haired, Texan sharpshooter, you've finally found some peace and fulfilment in your life. You need Vin as much as he needs you. An' if you say otherwise then you're a liar as well as a coward!" There was no stopping the ladies' man now, and his words gathered momentum like a rolling stone on a snow-packed mountainside.
Buck ignored the furious scowl that Chris directed at him and, hoping that the other wasn't about to violently lash out, the ladies' man decided to get to the heart of the problem. "Chris, I've ridden with you longer but I know I could never give you a fraction of what Vin manages to bestow on you so effortlessly—and I'm not saying that 'cos I'm envious of him either! This ain't bullshit—I love that boy for giving my best friend such a truly wonderful gift. He's managed to put the light back into your eyes and made you a whole man once again. I can see it! The cracks are healing and now each day you look forward—with hope. Vin's done that for you, pard. He's given you a reason to start living again—which is something I thought would never happen after... " Buck broke off momentarily, swallowing hard as he thought of how his friend had been following the murder of his family.
Visibly squaring his shoulders as he pushed his sorrow away, the ladies' man carried on with his candid narrative. "Don't ask me how, but that man has made such a big difference to all of our lives! Which is why I gotta make you see sense. Running away won't fix things, but you don't need me to tell you that. Vin needs us all to be there for him at the moment, 'cos I went with the others to see him yesterday, and I can tell you—he's really suffering, Chris."
"What the hell's MacIntyre doing for him? The way Nathan goes on, it's like the doc can work miracles, so... "
"Whoa! Hold up, pard! That ain't what I meant!" Buck interrupted hastily, seeing the look of near panic and terror on his friend's features. "Physically, Vin's doing okay. The infection and fever have gone and Nate an' Andrew are real happy with his progress. The boy was outta bed for the first time when we got there at lunchtime, 'though he was as cranky as a stomped on sidewinder, 'cos he can only shuffle to a chair in his room—slowly! An' that's with Bruce helping him too!"
"It sounds like he's making the doc out to be a liar! I figured he'd not last the whole two weeks stuck in bed! That's good news." Chris had put fresh coffee on to boil as he spoke, but even with his back to the ladies' man, Buck could see the tension almost visibly oozing away from the gunslinger.
"So, are you going out t'see him? Or d'you intend to let your stubborn pride destroy a perfect friendship?" The questions were blunt and succinct. Buck knew there was no point in treading lightly; Chris Larabee responded better with a direct approach.
"Nope."
"Is that no t'my first question, or the second?"
"Get outta my face, Buck! I don't have to answer to you, or anyone!" the gunslinger snapped furiously.
"Oh, so you think it's acceptable to ride roughshod over the folks who care about you, huh? Any relationship's a two way thing, Chris, but you've got your head stuck so far up where the sun don't shine, that you've lost sight of the real issue here! Vin has a helluva lot on his mind right now but, aside from all that family stuff, he needs to clear the air with you. Now my shoulders are broad, and when you holler and take a swing at me, then I know it's just your way of letting off steam. Hell,"—Buck gave a crooked grin—"in the years I've known you, I've learnt to block up m'ears and duck real quick when summat's troubling you!"
The gunslinger stared at his friend, but allowed a ghost of a smile to curve his lips at the moustached man's flippant comments. However, Chris stayed silent; he knew that Buck wouldn't leave him in peace until he'd got this off of his chest. The ladies' man was nothing if not persistent.
"It ain't like that for Vin," the ladies' man continued. "He listens to what you say and respects your opinion on most things, but when he heard you condemning his pa... waal, it would'a been kinder to stab him through his heart! This's tearing him up inside, Chris. You can see it in his eyes. He barely said a word to any of us yesterday and Nathan is seriously worried that he might just up an' leave Robert's house before he's fully fit. Now I reckon you don't want that t'happen so, seein' as how he can't come to you, I guess that means you have to extend the olive branch."
"He doesn't need me. An' I ain't going out there while that lying bastard Hen... Tan... Fuck it! I don't even know what to call that stinkin', two-bit drifter! So help me Buck, if I clap eyes on... Tanner again, I don't think I'll be able to stop m'self filling him with bullets!" There was a bitter vehemence to the gunslinger's statement that sent a chill through the ladies' man. Buck now knew that Chris' feelings for Will Tanner had gone way beyond mistrust. Hatred and loathing was probably nearer to the truth. However, he somehow had to find a way to reconcile his two friends, whilst keeping the peace—even a tenuous one—between the gunslinger and the older Texan. None of the seven had actually witnessed Tanner senior in a face-to-face shootout and Buck had no wish to find out for himself how fast the security boss was—particularly if the person he was up against was Chris Larabee.
"Well, that'd be real smart! I reckon Vin would understand if you drilled his pa with bullets! Oh yeah, and I think the boy might forgive you eventually... say, when Hell freezes over!" Buck snorted caustically.
"Why d'you think I'm sitting tight out here, huh?"
"I figured that one out all by m'self! Look, there ain't nuthin' you can do about who he is, 'cos there's no disputing that he's Vin's pa. But if you think Will Tanner's up to no good, wouldn't it be wiser to keep a close eye on him? That's what you'd do if it were a stranger who'd appeared in town that you felt was acting suspicious. Course, you'll only be able to do that if you curb your temper and accept for now that he's gonna be sticking real tight to Vin. Chris, this situation's no different from many we've handled since signing on for Judge Travis, so why are you making it personal?"
Chris said nothing as he poured coffee into two cups and set them on the table. Buck was right; he was taking this all very personally. But even if he managed to overcome his hostility against Tanner, it would still be difficult to be objective when watching the blond Texan, as nothing would convince Chris that his instincts were wrong. The man had 'bad' written all over him.
"Chris?" Buck prompted, as the silence continued.
With a sigh, Chris sat down heavily on a chair and, picking up his cup, he took a sip of coffee before replying. "Why am I making it personal? I... didn't realise I was. Hell, yeah... mebbe I am! Just tell me one thing, Buck—and I want you t'be totally honest. How would you feel if it were JD in Vin's boots? What would you do?"
"Jeez, why don'tcha just ask me how many miles away the North Pole is? 'Cos it'd be a darn sight easier to answer! Hell, I can't say what my reaction would be—'less it happened. But I do know I wouldn't be chewing out the kid, nor badmouthin' his pa to him. No siree! As Ezra would say, I'd be full of social graces and present the image of a friendly, reasonable fella; but I'd be watching him like a mama hawk! Constantly! And the minute he put a foot outta line... waal, let's say he'd soon learn the error of his ways. Nope, this is a real tricky problem, Chris, but you have to allow Vin to reach his own conclusions about his pa. If you don't, then Will Tanner has gained an edge and, if you're right in your feelings, then your actions could put Vin at risk. Do you really want t'take that chance?" The ladies' man dragged in a slow breath as he finished speaking, and his normally carefree-looking features were solemn while he waited for his friend's response.
"Nope. I'd kill that bastard if anything happened to Vin and I think Tanner knows that. I've been thinking more about all of this, and it wouldn't surprise me if he were on Kehoe's or James' payroll as well as Robert's."
"You mean an insider? Most likely right there, but it ain't necessarily gotta be Tanner. Chris, we know someone must'a given information about who was at Cumming's that night the Mexicans attacked, but Will was there and helped fight 'em off. Alright, I know it was unexpected that he returned—'cos of Vin's sickness—but, if he knew what'd been planned, why didn't he just make hisself scarce instead of staying to defend the house? It don't make sense to take that type of gamble."
Chris shook his head slowly at the other's puzzled comments. "No you're right; he's far too clever for that. But anyway, I saw his face when we were getting ready to shoot it out and Tanner was just as surprised as the rest of us. He didn't know what was gonna happen and,"—he rolled his eyes expressively at Buck—"I may have m'head up my ass, but it was clear he wasn't gonna let Vin come to any harm. It still don't prove anything though, 'cos if he'd been safely outta the way on the hunt, then there was no real reason for him to know what was organised for that night."
"Yeah, I guess. Thing is, how the hell do we find out who Robert's spy is? You suspect Tanner, but it could just as easily be one or more of those hands that Jim took on at the start. Unfortunately, the ranch is too far out, so we can't keep up with what's occurring out there. Which reminds me... we had some trouble in town the night before last, between Kehoe's men and a few from Cumming's."
"What kinda trouble?"
"Petty arguments and fist fights mainly. It was payday at the Lazy K... "
"Damn!" The gunslinger interrupted his friend as realisation dawned. "I forgot it was coming up to the end of the month! Sorry pard. We're already short handed and I warn't there neither!"
"We handled it, Chris. There was a good reason for the rough-housing though. When I saw Robert and Jim yesterday, they told me that one of their line cabins had been torched—while two of their hands were using it! One of the men got a mite singed, but apart from that they were okay. The building was burnt to the ground, and it spooked the Scottish cattle that were penned nearby. Two of Robert's breeding cows were caught in the resulting stampede and Jim had no choice but to shoot the animals. Davey, Howard and Will had a scout around the area, but couldn't find any clues to who might'a done it. Not that we need many pointers on that score! It's gotta be Kehoe, James or Royal—or probably all three!"
"Shit! We're likely to end up with a full scale range war on our hands, 'cos I can't see James and his cronies backing down. I thought our little talk with Kehoe might've worked," Chris stated testily.
The tall peacekeeper could hear the frustration in his friend's voice and knew that Chris was angry that he and his men had been unable to prevent yet another incident against the Scottish landowner. Fortunately, no one had been killed or even seriously hurt in the two assaults, although that was down to sheer luck rather than design. However, if things continued to escalate it was probably only a matter of time before people started to get injured.
Many years previous, Buck and Chris had seen the aftermath of a similar land dispute in New Mexico between cattle ranchers and sheep farmers. Men had died on both sides, and a shared lake and the ranch house wells of the main agitators had been poisoned in the bitter fight, rendering a huge area of land barren for several years. There were usually no winners in those types of feuds and, quite often, innocent bystanders suddenly found themselves caught in the crossfire. For the small landowners in the area, like Nettie Wells, any power struggle could cause them ruination, as imported gun hands or bandits rarely checked brands on cattle and destroyed any free ranging livestock without compunction.
"Obviously didn't! This could get real ugly, Chris. And you know how much I hate ugly!" Buck's moustache twitched as he gave a wry grin, but his blue eyes were deadly serious as he stared at the other man.
Chris nodded wordlessly. It was an awkward situation, particularly as the one person the peacekeepers should be working with to help overcome the problems, was the very same man that the gunslinger suspected of being involved in the Scottish family's troubles. There had to be a way of keeping abreast of any untoward developments, without involving any of the Cummings' workers. The gunslinger stared at his friend for several minutes, as his mind turned over the dilemma whilst trying to work out a plan.
Buck was silent as he sipped his coffee. He could almost hear the whirring of his friend's brain and knew better then to interrupt Chris until the other had finished his machinations. Watching as the gunslinger got to his feet and crossed to the stove to stir the bubbling stew, the ladies' man lightly drummed his fingers on the table while he waited for his friend to speak. There was a purposeful look on Chris' face that probably meant he'd had an idea.
"You got summat in mind?" the ladies' man finally prompted, although it was more of a statement than a question.
"Is Ezra still riding out to see Fiona?"
"Yeah. He ain't living up to his name as a gambler or a resident of town at the moment, 'cos he spends all his spare time making the journey out to see that gal! That slippery, scheming Southerner has been struck square on the ass with Cupid's arrow! Love sick don't even come close, an' I can almost hear the sound of wedding bells an' the patter of tiny feet!"
Chris grinned, as the other gave an exaggerated shudder at the thought of the fastidious gambler holding a newborn baby. "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, Buck! Marriage and impending fatherhood changes the way a man looks at things."
There was a trace of wistful regret in Chris' last remark that made the tall peacekeeper wince in sympathy. Buck would never forget the exultant look of joy, mingling with adoring love that had been etched on his oldest friend's features the night Adam had been born. Sarah had had a long and difficult labour and, as the Larabee farm had been fairly remote, the expectant mother had only had the inexperienced, but devoted, assistance of her husband and Buck Wilmington to help her bring a new life into the world. When the child was finally delivered and Chris had handed the exhausted Sarah a lustily squalling Adam Christopher Larabee, Buck had unashamedly wept at the sight of his two friends cradling their precious new son.
In the few short years that the gunslinger had been blessed with fatherhood, the man had mellowed, matured to a level that would have astounded his acquaintances from his wild and misspent youth. Family responsibility often had a strange effect on men, but Chris had totally embraced the new chapter in his life. He had quickly adjusted to being not only a loving husband, but also an infatuated father, and the pride on Chris' face when Adam had first called him 'papa' was plain for all to see. The ladies' man had seen much of the Larabee family in those years, and he had been with Chris on that fateful day after Cletus Fowler had orchestrated Ella Gaines' evil act of retribution.
Buck gave a shiver as the memory of seeing the smouldering ruins of the Larabees' small house slipped unbidden into his mind. Nothing would ever erase the horror he'd felt as he had watched Chris bring out the charred bodies of his wife and son; no man should ever have to endure that amount of pain and sorrow.
"Yeah, I reckon it does," Buck remarked at length. "You won't catch me on the marriage trail in a hurry, though!"
"No! You'd be better off going to Arabia! From what I've heard, those sheiks have a whole gaggle of wives to see to their needs. Leastways then, you ain't gotta choose just the one gal!"
"Heck—I knew I was born in the wrong country! I'm missing out on all the lovin' that several wives could give me! Mind, I'd need to have me a real big sized bed!" The ladies' man gave a wide, lecherous grin as he genuinely mulled over the idea of bedding several women at once.
Seeing the look of irritation on Chris' features, Buck shook his head to dispel the titillating thought. "Anyhow, let's get back to business. What've you got in mind?"
"We speak to Ezra, and get him to watch Tanner as much as he can at the ranch. Also, we all take turns in riding out there—to see Vin, of course—but we also follow that sneaky bastard to try an' find out where he goes an' who he sees. Buck, we need proof if he is siding with those ranchers."
Buck ran his fingers through his hair as he mulled over his friend's words. "We'll have t'be careful. He don't look no slouch when it comes to tracking and Vin might get suspicious if we start disappearing at the same time as his pa. The last thing we want is alerting the boy to our investigations, 'cos that'd be like waving a red rag to a bull! Vin might not be too understanding, and he'd think we were stacking against him if... " the ladies' man suddenly stopped as Chris' comment fully sunk in. "You said all of us!"
Like the rays of the rising sun at summer solstice, the dazzling Wilmington smile was suddenly born in its full glory. The big-hearted peacekeeper always felt a friend's pain deeply, suffering almost in equal correspondence with all of those he loved or cared for. But when things turned a corner and everything was right in his world once again, no man could display such an open look of joy in the way that Buck Wilmington could.
Chris pursed his lips, nodding slowly at his delighted companion. "Yeah. Seems to me, the only way forward is if I try an' keep a tight rein on m'feelings. I'll stay out here though, 'cos it's closer to Cummings', and I'll use this as my base—so long as you and the others can take care of things in town. That way I can cover better ground, without drawing attention t'myself. I figure if anything's gonna happen, it'll be Robert's stock or the ranch that'll be targeted. I just hope no-one gets any ideas about spiking the water supply."
"Well, that won't be Kehoe! He relies on the Chaipas River for his own steers, but I wouldn't put it past either James or Royal! That pair are malicious enough to resort to anything!"
"Yeah. It's a shame we don't have any extra men available to keep an eye on those three ranchers... but... well, we don't live in an ideal world, do we?" Chris murmured regretfully.
The tall peacekeeper shook his head in agreement. "Nope. I'll organise all this with the others when I get back but, if you're staying out here, presumably you'll just visit Vin as and when, regardless of our movements."
"Well it'll look less contrived if some things appear unplanned, so... yeah, I think that's for the best. I will keep in touch though, 'cos I'll need fresh supplies from town every few days."
Buck smiled, suddenly relieved that Chris had let himself be coaxed into doing something positive about the situation. The tall peacekeeper had been surprised by his friend's unexpected about turn as, normally, the gunslinger's stubborn nature wouldn't allow him to back down after coming to a decision. Evidently Chris realised just how much he could potentially lose if he distanced himself from Vin, and the pair's argument and possible disassociation could only serve one person. Will Tanner. The gunslinger would obviously do all in his power to ensure the older Texan didn't gain the upper hand so if that meant a climb down by Chris then the man was, in this instance, going to swallow his pride and make the effort to ignore the security boss.
"Okay. There ain't much else we can do, so it sounds like a plan. At least we've now got summat worked out that may help end Robert's troubles. Those Scottish folk are real nice people just trying to build up a business and a new life, and they don't deserve this bullshit being thrown their way," Buck remarked.
"Nope, they don't."
The ladies' man sniffed the air appreciatively as he eyed the bubbling pot of stew. "Looks like you've made enough there for two, so I'll eat before I go back to town. Oh, I nearly forgot! Robert's invited us all to a party at the ranch in a few weeks time—a... a forgathering, I think he called it. He wanted to get to know some more local folk, so he's throwing open his doors to most'a the town and the smaller homesteaders too. Andrew has said that Vin should be back on his feet by then,"—Buck paused, his blue eyes crinkling playfully—"'though I warned 'em that the boy dances like an Apache brave who's about to scalp a crooked Reservation Agent!"
"Jeez, Buck! I've seen your 'graceful' efforts at the more refined social gatherings, so you can hardly talk!"
"I'm a skilled dancer, pard! Y'know, I was once called 'Waltzing Wilmington' on account of my, oh so smmooooth moves! The ladies flock to me, 'cos they can see top quality from a mile off. And at least I wear clothes that're pleasing to a pretty gal's eye. Not like some I could mention!" The moustached peacekeeper proudly fingered his gaudy, multi-coloured shirt as he nodded to his friend's sombre attire.
"They need t'be a mile off too, or those ladies would risk blindness with some of the things you wear! Buck, I'm your friend, and I've gotta tell you this—those colours are bright enough to scare a dead man into peeing his pants!"
The ladies' man snorted disdainfully at the other's scornful remarks. "Huh! You're just pissed 'cos I always have the ladies' chasing after me! And they'll be plenty of 'em attending Robert's party too! Hey-hey!"—Buck rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation—"I saw the food and guest list Bruce was working on and those Scottish folk are planning a real lively shindig! He took your advice about trading with the townsfolk as well. Miz Abigail and Fiona went to Mary for some fancy invitations to be printed, and they've ordered all the party supplies from Watson and Gloria Potter. Inez is selling him a barrel of beer too. So that ought to keep the town's businessmen off his back at least!"
"Yeah. Reckon that'll do it!" Chris' face was suddenly grim as he continued. "Shame it isn't that simple for Kehoe and his pards. Buck, I think we've got troubled times ahead of us, so it may be best if you wire the Judge and let him know what's going on."
"I will. Mary mentioned that he and Evie are coming for Easter anyway, so if we need a court session at least Orin can preside and swiftly deal with any troublemakers." There was an optimistic tone to the moustached man's voice and he grinned at his friend as the gunslinger went to rummage in a cupboard by the bed.
"Let's hope we have some customers for him then! Buck, I'm gonna go clean up, so make yourself useful by stirring that,"—Chris nodded to the stove—"and I need some more firewood chopped too."
"Jeez, Chris! Since when've I become your personal servant?"
"You invited yourself for dinner, so expect to work for it!" Chris stabbed a razor blade in his friend's direction as he emphasised the first word.
"Nag, nag, nag! You're getting to be a tyrant in your old age, pard! No, correction—you've always been a damned pain in the ass when it comes to dishing out orders!"
The black dressed peacekeeper ignored Buck's grumbling, but good-natured, comments as he went outside to shave and bathe. Chris had to admit that he felt more relaxed after the forthright discussion with his oldest friend, although he knew he would still have difficulty in holding his anger in check if confronted with Will Tanner. The main thing that worried him now was Vin's reaction to possible future developments.
If there was sufficient proof of the Cummings' security boss' involvement in the incidents against the Scottish family, would the tracker stand idly by and let his fellow peacekeepers jail his father on serious criminal charges? Knowing how Vin felt about captivity, whether justified or not, Chris doubted that his friend would remain impartial if that did happen. The young Texan might even try to break the man out of his cell and run the risk of then becoming a wanted man in yet another state.
Whatever happened ultimately, it would place an enormous strain on Vin's relationship with all of his friends. The tracker would feel betrayed and humiliated if he suspected his colleagues were investigating his father and Chris knew his friend would never forgive the six men if the gunslinger were correct in his suspicions. A prison sentence against Will Tanner would probably shatter the comradeship of the seven men, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
"Hey, look there Nate! Is that Vin sitting out on the porch?" JD stood up in his stirrups as he peered at the main Cummings' ranch house in the distance.
"Damned if I know, JD! My eyes ain't as sharp as yers!"
It was the day following Buck Wilmington's return from the Larabee smallholding and, after talking well into the evening, the five peacekeepers had thrashed out a workable plan to keep Will Tanner or any other suspicious person, under surveillance. Nathan, Ezra and JD had volunteered to take the first stint of duty out at the ranch—although the Southerner had another more pressing and acutely personal reason for making the journey that morning—and the three had left town early to visit their recuperating colleague.
"It is Vin!" the youthful sheriff whooped exuberantly. "That's really good! He must have improved a lot, so perhaps he'll be able to come home soon... I mean I know he can't ride yet but perhaps he can make the journey on a buckboard or a carriage. I bet Robert has some well sprung rigs that won't cause Vin's innards any grief, 'cos these folk seem to have plenty of money to spend on fancy things whenever they want 'em. At least then we won't have to come all this way to see him... although I know Chris wants us to keep an eye on Will, but maybe with Vin back in Four Corners we'll get the opportunity to keep a closer watch on the man and that means we'd have more spare time to... "
"Mr Dunne! Would you be so kind as to curb your continuous diatribe and stop to gather not only air, but also a sense of circumspection!" Ezra Standish interrupted the young peacekeeper's excitable dialogue, glancing across to a chuckling Nathan Jackson.
"Huh?" JD frowned at the handsome gambler before turning his puzzled features to the healer and mouthing the Southerner's last word over several times.
Nathan nudged his mount closer to speak to the confused young sheriff. "JD, he's telling ya to keep a watch on what ya say in front of Vin. An' I don't want ya to give our impetuous Texan any ideas about making the long journey back to town, either—even in a carriage! Vin—and his healing innards—are better off where they are at the moment, 'cos I jes' know he wouldn't be listenin' to me if he came back to m'clinic. Not that I'm likely to get him inside the door! Damned fool 'ud prob'ly take off into the hills or camp out in that draughty, damp wagon that he calls home!"
Ezra nodded solemnly. "I wholeheartedly concur with your evaluation, Mr Jackson. As much as Mr Larabee abhors Tanner senior, the man has been almost solely instrumental in constraining our indisposed colleague. Not only that, he has also ensured that Vin has obeyed to the letter, the sagacious words of both his physicians. That gentlemen, is in itself a phenomenon, knowing Mr Tanner's usual propensity for heeding sound medical advice," the Southerner drawled laconically.
"Psht! Ya don't got no call to gloat on that account, Ezra! There ain't one of ya that's got a lick o' sense when it comes t'takin' notice o' my instructions if yer wounded. If we're being honest here, I reckon Vin 'n' Chris are the orneriest of ya six, but the rest o' ya come a close joint second. I ain't never met such a stubborn bunch o' fools as ya lot, so it makes a change to have one o' ya pay attention to m'words!" Nathan said huffily.
"I am mortified, Mr Jackson! Let it never be said that Ezra P Standish does not show a modicum of common sense when it comes to requiring succour! There have been several occasions when I have willingly submitted my person to your competent, healing hands, and I usually recognise and accept the need for your excellent medical care." The gambler shot the dark-skinned healer a winning smile, pointedly ignoring the guffaws of muffled laughter coming from JD.
"If ya insist, Ezra. I don't rightly know what occasion we're talkin' of here, but even JD knows when he's hearing bull droppings bein' tossed 'round! Still, I'll be sure t'remind ya of yer 'willing submission' the next time ya get shot or need stitching up!"
"Touché, my friend! Of course, one would hope that your skilful ministrations are not required in the foreseeable future, but alas, we live in violent and unpredictable times."
The three riders had now reached the end of the narrow track approaching the Cummings' ranch, and guiding their horses close to the house, the men smiled and nodded greeting to Vin Tanner.
The tracker was lounging casually against one of the sturdy wooden uprights of the porch, having spotted his friends as they came into view over the distant ridge. A high-backed and deeply upholstered armchair sat close to the open ranch house door, and a discarded blanket was thrown over a matching footstool in front of the chair. The wooden bench backing onto the house wall had a cushion on it, and next to that was a small leather bound book with a paper bookmark poking out of the top. Although the Texan peacekeeper was alone at present, it was clear, as two glasses of lemonade sat on a table between the armchair and the bench, that he'd had company just prior to his colleagues' arrival.
"Hey there, Vin! You're looking better than you did when we saw you last! I can't believe you're up and dressed! Nate said you'd be in bed for at least a few more days, but I knew if anyone was gonna prove him wrong, it was you!" JD had hastily slid from his horse before the animal had stopped moving, and accurately flinging the reins over the hitching post he then bounded energetically up the porch steps to greet the Texan.
"Howdy, JD. Ezra, Nate. It's real good t'see ya fellas again." Vin gripped each offered hand, smiling warmly at three of the men he was proud to call friend.
The tracker's way of life had changed dramatically since signing on for Judge Travis, but he still felt an element of surprise at his colleagues' concerns if he was sick or injured, or if he had been out of town for a long period of time. It was part of the ongoing process of belonging somewhere, and there was only one word that sufficiently described the sense of love and comradeship he shared with his six peacekeeping friends. Brotherhood. Initially it had been a strange sensation and not one the almost reclusive Texan had experienced for many years, but Vin was getting used to the idea of having a completely trustworthy and dependable backup, and he marvelled at the difference it made to his existence.
Nathan leaned against the porch railing as he ran a critical eye over his recuperating friend. The younger man had regained some of the weight he'd lost in the first week of his illness and his face was once again tanned and healthy-looking. Any body movement the tracker made was cautious and carefully controlled but, apart from that, the only outward indication of his recent ailment was the unusually exotic attire he wore.
Andrew MacIntyre had finally agreed to let his patient sit out on the front porch that morning, although he'd adamantly drawn the line at allowing Vin to wear his normal everyday clothes. The tracker's heavy-duty and snug fitting pants would have chafed and caused pressure on the still stitched, but healing, incision scar. After an intense rummage through Robert and John Cummings wardrobes, Bruce Soames had come up with a solution to the problem.
At first, Vin had baulked at the garishly opulent item of apparel that the steward had presented to him but, realising he had no choice if he wanted to escape the confines of his bedroom, the tracker had reluctantly donned the pair of loose fitting, silk trousers. The lightweight lounging trews, as Soames had called them, were a souvenir that the old Earl of Strathclyde had brought back from his travels to the Orient. As a general rule they were normally paired up with a gentleman's smoking jacket, but the tracker had chosen a plain navy shirt and bandana to wear with them. A pair of buckskin moccasins that Josiah had gifted to him adorned his bare feet and, although as a rule he never really thought much about his appearance, he now hoped that he didn't look quite as ridiculous as he felt.
Ezra Standish hefted the heavy saddlebag he'd brought with him from town and swiftly made his way to the bench, blatantly ignoring the look of displeasure that Nathan threw at him for commandeering the only available seat.
"Nice t'see yer comfortable there, Ezra! Don't ya worry none 'bout the rest o' us, huh? Ya jes' be as selfish as ya allus are! JD an' me'll get our own seat!" the healer snorted angrily, as the Southerner promptly sat down and stretched out his legs in a relaxed pose.
"Mr Jackson, I was first to reach the bench, so it is only fair that I take this empty position. I can assure you that I intended no insult to either yours or Mr Dunne's sensibilities, but it was pure unadulterated luck that I spotted the vacant place before you did," Ezra replied, tipping his hat in acknowledgement to the indignantly muttering Nathan before carefully placing the saddlebag on the table.
Vin grinned broadly, watching with amusement the interplay between Ezra and Nathan. He had missed all of this in the time he'd been away from Four Corners. The handsome gambler had a way of getting under Nathan's skin, and the tracker often wondered whether his friend intentionally goaded the former slave. It was hard to say, as Ezra had an uncanny knack of aggravating even the most placid of people and usually ended up being maligned and totally misunderstood as a result of his egocentric traits. The other person he always managed to annoy most of the time, without even trying, was Chris Larabee. Whilst the gambler was only too willing to exchange verbal insults with Nathan Jackson, he was extremely wary of Chris and tended to watch what he said in front of the more volatile gunslinger. Chris had reminded the younger man on more than one occasion of the time Ezra had run out on the other six men, and it was as if the gunslinger was just waiting for the Southerner to repeat the cowardly act.
The grin disappeared as the Texan's thoughts suddenly turned to his closest friend. He would have liked to see and speak to Chris, but as yet the gunslinger had not returned to the Cummings' ranch; Josiah had been right though—the pair couldn't allow their quarrel to fester. Not that platitudes and apologies were needed between the two men. The arm-clasping handshake that was unique to Chris and Vin, coupled with eye contact, was usually sufficient to repair any breaches in the pairs' friendship. Both men seemed able to express a thousand words with a just a look—it was part of the unspoken bond between them, and an ability that had held them in good stead in countless dangerous situations when involved with their peacekeeping duties. Not only that, it wasn't in Vin's nature to harbour a grudge, even against those who deserved it, so he was hopeful that Chris would soon see reason.
Resolutely forcing away his meditative thoughts, Vin pointed to a second wooden bench at the far end of the porch.
"There ya are, JD. Help me bring that... " the tracker began, as he slowly headed for the heavy-looking seat.
"Godammit Vin, hold it right there! Yer s'pposed t'be taking it easy, not luggin' 'round furniture! Andrew'll be after m'hide if ya rip open those stitches ag'in! Now jes' sit yer scrawny ass down!" Nathan ordered the Texan.
With JD's assistance, the healer then brought the bench closer, casting frequent angry looks at the pre-occupied gambler.
Vin carefully eased himself down onto his chair as his two friends finally got settled. Ezra had lapsed into silence, an extraordinary occurrence for the normally flamboyant and talkative Southerner and, as the tracker's keen eyes fell upon his friend, he saw the gambler give an almost guilty start.
Ezra appeared to be nervous and his right hand kept dipping into his jacket pocket, as if he were continually checking on something that was secreted there. Spotting the mildly curious look that Vin threw at him, the gambler leaned across and tapped the saddlebag. "Umm... I have brought the items that you asked for from my safe, Mr Tanner," he informed the younger man.
"Thanks, Ez." The tracker wasn't fooled for a moment—the gambler was deliberately trying to divert attention from his uncharacteristic behaviour. Vin sensed that the other had something on his mind and, although the Texan had no intention of prying into his friend's personal business, he had a fair idea of what was causing Ezra's unusual edginess.
"Where is everyone today, Vin? I promised Howard that I'd help him work on his pistol draw again and this seems like a good opportunity to practice." JD scanned around the various corrals and outbuildings as he asked the question.
"Jim and most o' the hands are working on fencing down at Coyote Pass, but Will, Davey 'n' Howard left early yesterday t'track a mountain lion that picked off one of the cows," Vin replied.
"Is Fi... ? Er.. umm... Are any of the ladies in residence, Mr Tanner?" There was an anxiously expectant look on Ezra's normally well-schooled features that made Vin and Nathan smile.
"Miz Fiona's jes' gone in t'help Bruce prepare lunch. Robert, Miz Abigail an' Lizzie had t'go to Ridge City. Summat t'do with John... waal, that's what Andrew said, anyhow," The tracker shrugged noncommittally, but the shrewd gambler detected the note of scorn in the younger man's voice.
"It appears that Lord John Cummings has an aptitude for becoming embroiled in awkward situations. How is it that two brothers can be so dissimilar?" Ezra quietly asked.
"I reckon that's one of life's great mysteries. We can choose our friends, but we don't have any say when it comes to our kinfolk." Nathan glanced sideways at the young Texan, instantly regretting his uncensored comment.
Vin gazed at the distant hills, but the three peacekeepers saw the hurt look that flitted momentarily across his face. The healer's words had hit a raw nerve, and it took a Herculean effort to force back the angry protests that sprang into the tracker's mind. Evidently Chris wasn't the only person who had doubts about Will Tanner. The Texan gave an inward sigh. Would he ever be able to convince his friends that his father's intentions were honourable?
Ezra's eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Nathan shifted uneasily at the icy green glare the gambler shot at him. Wanting to break the uncomfortable silence the Southerner picked up the abandoned book beside him. A faint smile curved his mouth as he saw the title and he leafed through the pages until he got to the marked section.
"Ah, Mr Tanner, I see that you have been absorbing the excellent works of Robert Burns. The gentleman was Scotland's most distinguished poet, and in the last few weeks I have come to know and enjoy his literary genius, although I find that some of the words and phrases need translation. 'The Lament of Mary Queen of Scots on the Approach of Spring.' What an appropriate piece for this fair day!" Ezra held the book up, clearing his throat a little as he prepared to read the poem.
"'Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree,
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white
Out o'er the grassy lea:
Now Phoebus chears the crystal... '"
"... 'streams,
And glads the azure skies;
But nought can glad the weary wight
That fast in durance lies.'"
Fiona Cummings had slipped quietly out of the ranch house, unseen by the four men, until the young woman began reciting the verse with the Southerner.
Ezra jumped to his feet, hastily placing the book on the table before escorting the Scotswoman to her cushion on the bench.
"My dear lady, I was attempting to do justice to that beautiful poem, but I cannot compare to your elegant rendition of Mr Burns soulful prose." As the gambler finished speaking he captured the woman's hand and pressed it to his lips.
"You are much too harsh on yourself, sir. However, it would be most rude if I continued reading when Vin has visitors," Fiona murmured, her warm hand still caught in Ezra's grasp.
The Southerner gently squeezed the woman's fingers as all cohesive thought suddenly went from his mind. For the first time in his adult life, Ezra Standish, the fast talking gambler and sometime conman, was at a total loss for words. He had been thinking about and rehearsing what he wanted to say to the young Scotswoman ever since making his momentous decision the previous day, but now that he was confronted with the beautiful girl, he had no idea where to begin.
"Why don'tcha take Miz Fiona out fer a ride, Ez? The lady's bin kindly sat wit' me most o' the mornin', so I reckon she'd 'preciate a change o' scenery." The tracker's face was impassive, but his blue eyes twinkled mischievously as he made the suggestion.
"I... err... umm... w... well... " Ezra stuttered, a pink flush suddenly highlighting his cheeks.
"That would be lovely!" Fiona interrupted, giving an excited clap of her hands. "Ezra dearest, let me go up and change into something more suitable, but perhaps in the meantime one of you gentlemen would be kind enough to tack up Rio for me." The woman had effectively curtailed any protests the Southerner may have made to the tracker's proposition, and with a pleased smile she hurried back into the ranch house.
"I'll go and get Miss Fiona's horse saddled," JD offered, already scrambling to his feet.
Vin picked up one of the glasses on the table, watching the gambler intently over the rim as he swallowed the lemonade. Ezra had an almost frightened look on his features and he nervously fiddled with the ring on his finger. The tracker grinned as he put the empty glass back down, his eyes locking momentarily with the healer; it seemed like Nathan had also guessed what was causing their friend's discomposure. It was abundantly clear that Ezra and Fiona were very much in love, but if the gambler carried on with his indecisive attitude then nothing would be achieved this day. The Southerner needed a distraction, something to settle his jangling nerves.
"Yer a mite skittish today, Ezra! Are ya feelin' alright?" Nathan asked impishly.
"I am fine, Mr Jackson."
"Ya sure? I thought ya looked a bit green 'round the gills an' ya'll've bin really quiet. That ain't like ya at all, Ezra! There's bin some bouts o' sickness an' bowel problems going 'round town, so mebbe we should head back so I can check ya over. Vin don't need any sick folk near him—not when he's still recovering himself." Nathan leaned forward, his hand automatically reaching towards Ezra as he spoke.
"If you attempt to feel my forehead, Mr Jackson, I will be compelled to take immediate and possibly violent action! I am perfectly well, thank you!"
"Don't pay Nate no never mind, Ez. He's bin learning some medicine stuff from Andrew, an' he's real eager to try out his new skills whenever he can," Vin explained.
"I see. Mr Tanner, I am beginning to understand just how much you have had to endure from having not one, but two physicians fussing around your sickbed. I imagine your relief is immeasurable at finally escaping the constrictions of your bedroom."
"That don't even come close, Ez!"
The two older men chuckled at the tracker's fervent reply. There had been a slight tension between the three men, fuelled by Nathan's earlier glib remark that unintentionally criticised Will Tanner, and not helped by Ezra's uncustomary reticence. Following the light-hearted banter, it appeared that the gambler was once again his normal relaxed and loquacious self.
Vin wriggled self-consciously as Ezra gleefully eyed the borrowed pants the younger man wore. The tracker could almost hear the sarcastic words forming in his friend's quick-thinking mind, and he braced himself for a verbal sparring match. Battle was about to commence!
"C'mon then, I know yer jes' itchin' t'say summat!" Vin challenged the Southerner.
"I was merely wondering where you got such a delightfully stylish pair of pants. Mr Tanner, your exquisite apparel is the epitome of sartorial elegance, and the ease at which you wear such luxurious clothing makes me think that you have altered your dress code radically. And for the better, might I add. Mr Wilmington will be eaten up with jealousy, as I am positive that those vibrant colours match one of his more decorative shirts perfectly! Ahh! Nothing has quite the same feel as silk against tender skin!" Ezra had reached across to feel the soft fabric of the pants, and at the final sentence he caressed the smooth material between his forefinger and thumb.
"Get yer hands offa me!" Vin slapped away the questing hand. "Ya worry me sometimes, Ezra! 'Specially when ya get all touchy-touchy like that! Folks'll start t'talk, ya know?" the tracker growled.
"Now then my friend, I believe you are getting me confused with Mr Wilmington!"
"Waal, at least Buck gets all cosy with the opposite sex! 'Sides, Ezra, ya'll got t'wear that soft silk an' lace when we went out t'Wickestown that time, so ya must have a fair idea what it feels like against 'tender' skin! An' those feathers were real purty, too!" Nathan gave the gambler a wicked grin.
"I would thank you not to mention that unfortunate incident ever again, Mr Jackson! As you know, that most embarrassing episode was the only way to provide the necessary distraction to rescue Miz Travis from that despicable oaf Wickes. I was merely following the orders of our illustrious leader and garnered no personal satisfaction from donning a dress!" Ezra's final sentence was said sotto voce, and only after a hasty glance at the ranch house door.
"If ya say so, Ez!" Vin averred, but the faint smile playing across his lips contradicted his statement.
"I most certainly do, Mr Tanner! And I resent your inference maligning my manliness!"
JD had finished readying Fiona's mount, leaving the black stallion tethered outside the stable block while he returned to his friends. The dark-haired youngster had caught the end part of Vin and Ezra's conversation and was chuckling at the indignant look on the gambler's face.
The sound of approaching horses cut off the teasing laughter and, getting to their feet, the peacekeepers watched as three riders made their way towards the house.
"Howdy gents! Nice t'see ya'll ag'in," Will Tanner called out in greeting as he slid off his horse. Swiftly knotting the reins to the railing, he went to join the men on the porch, smiling in approval as Vin walked up to him. Reaching out, he caught the tracker's offered hand in a warm grasp, astonished but delighted to see how well the younger man looked.
"Seems like ya had a good hunt!" the tracker stated, glancing at the packhorse where a pair of large brown paws dangled from below the covering.
"Yeah, we did at that, son. Davey's gonna prepare that big ole cat, so Robert can have a fancy new rug fer his office." Tanner smiled at the look of disgust on JD's face. "Ain't ya never seen a hunting trophy used as a decoration afore, JD?" he inquired.
"Uh... umm... well, yeah, I have Will. This is the first time I've heard of a skin being used as a rug though. Won't it smell after a while?" JD's nose wrinkled in distaste as he asked the question.
The pair of Scottish ghillies had now come over to join the Americans, and both men smiled at the young sheriff's question. "Not once Uncle Davey's worked his magic, JD! Why, back in Scotland there was an enormous stuffed bear in the castle reception hall, and the old earl was always bringing back strange beasties from his travels in India and China. So long as they're cleaned out an' prepared right, they don't reek that much," Howard Fraser assured him.
"Urgh!" JD gave a shudder. "It sounds really horrible! I don't think I'd like to share a room with something that's been killed and then put on display."
"Weel, I must agree wit' ye 'bout that, JD. I always hated those lifeless eyes following m'every move. Gives me the willies, in fact!" Fraser gave an exaggerated shudder as he grinned at the young peacekeeper.
"I'll give you a hand with the horses, Howard, and then if you've got time we can carry on practising your fast draw. Ya don't mind me disappearing for a while, do you Vin?" asked JD.
"Nah! I don't need me another nursemaid, JD! Ya jes' carry on and help Howard."
The two young men led away the four leg-weary horses, with Davey Mason following to see to the temporary storage of the dead cougar. Ezra lounged against the porch railing as he patiently waited for Fiona to return, while Vin, Nathan and Tanner went back to the seats.
"I see Andrew finally let ya have yer freedom, son," Will Tanner remarked, as he leaned closer to the tracker's chair.
The long-haired peacekeeper shot his father a quirky grin. "Reckon he got tired o' me goin' on at him," Vin drawled unconcernedly.
The older Texan nodded slowly, but his blue eyes raked over his son, as if reassuring himself of the younger man's physical condition. "Reckon he must've, 'cos when I spoke t'him jes' afore I left the man wuz adamant that ya still needed bed rest," Tanner said, scrubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "Waal, it ain't fer me to second guess the doc, an' ya do look a mite stronger today. Vin, I know ya've bin real eager to be up an' around, but it warn't that many days ago that ya were flat on yer back an' outta yer head wit' fever! Andrew'll be spittin' fire an' brimstone if ya rush things an' overdo it!"
Nathan held his breath, waiting for the inevitable explosion from Vin that the security boss' public and almost smothering comments must surely produce. The healer was only too aware of how the tracker normally reacted if anyone commented on his health, or attempted to give him medical advice whenever injured. However, apart from a brief nod at his father, Vin's features remained impassive and he said nothing.
Ezra had also been expecting a hostile response from the tracker, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise as his green eyes momentarily locked with the healer's astonished-looking gaze. Even Chris Larabee wouldn't have got away with that infringement on the tracker's independence. Not that the gunslinger would have taken such a personal liberty with the Texan, having a healthy respect for his friend's self-reliance. Clearly, Vin was allowing Will Tanner to exert some kind of parental control over him, and seemed content to let the older man impose certain restrictions regarding his ongoing recovery.
Dismissing his puzzled thoughts, Ezra looked up as Fiona and Bruce Soames came out of the house. The steward carried a large tray laden with coffee cups, sandwiches and a bowl holding several apples. Carefully making his way over to where the three men sat, he put his burden down on the table.
"I thought ye might like to eat lunch out here," Soames remarked, as he poured the coffee.
"Thanks, Bruce!" Will Tanner grinned in acknowledgement to the steward, as he helped himself to a sandwich and a cup of the steaming brew.
"Gentlemen, Fiona and I will see you later." Ezra tipped his hat in acknowledgement, hooking the young woman's hand on his forearm as he escorted her down the porch steps. The gambler quickly untied his own mount, leading the horse across to the stable to collect Fiona's stallion. Vin and Nathan exchanged knowing looks as they watched the couple ride away from the property.
"It's been many years since I've seen that lass looking so radiant and happy," Soames murmured, catching the look of satisfaction on the two peacekeepers' features. The steward knew that Robert Cummings approved of his sister's liaison with the handsome Southerner and he hoped that the couple would soon make a more permanent commitment to each other.
"I think we can prob'ly say the same fer Ezra. An' Miz Fiona's certainly got him wrapped 'round her little finger!" Nathan chuckled.
"Yep. Women have their own special brand of persuasion when it comes to matters of the heart. Us fellas think we rule the roost, but more often than not, it's the lady o' the house that has the final say. M'pa allus told me never t'argue wit' yer ma, yer wife or the cook. In that order! An' that's summat I've stuck to over the years," Tanner said, around a mouthful of food.
"That sounds like sensible advice, Will!" the steward stated, giving a wry grin.
"Ah, there you are, Soames." Andrew MacIntyre suddenly emerged from the house and, striding up to the four men, he held out his hand in greeting when he spotted the healer. "Nathan! It's good to see you again, my friend. I didn't realise Vin had visitors, but it's rather fortuitous that you decided to come out today. I've finally found the time to set up my microscope and I'm conducting an experiment that I think might interest you."
"A microscope? Y'got m'undivided attention, Andrew! I've seen a picture of one afore, but I ain't never had the chance to see one fer real, let alone use one." There was an excited tone in Nathan's voice and an almost childlike eagerness lit up his eyes.
Will Tanner winked conspiratorially at the Scottish steward before leaning across to Vin and whispering loudly in the tracker's ear. "Keep yer head down, son. Else they may jes' try an' git ya in there to be part o' their test! I've heard tell o' how far these doctors will go to gain knowledge. Even the dead an' buried ain't safe!"
"I heard that, Will!" MacIntyre admonished, ignoring the sarcastic 'Ya were meant to!' muttered by the older man. "And I'm no grave robber! Now, what I have to show Nathan does not involve human physiology. Unless of course, you're volunteering your own body so that I can teach my star pupil some in-depth anatomical and surgical procedures," he teased his colleague.
"Hell—no I ain't! Physicians must be kin t'buzzards! They both want t'pick over yer bones, but at least the birds 'ave the decency t'wait 'til ya gasp yer last breath!"
"Controlled experimentation makes man progress beyond his limitations, Will. We are in an exciting era of scientific discovery and if it wasn't for the likes of Aristotle, Newton or your own countryman Benjamin Franklin then we would still be living a very primitive existence indeed." MacIntyre was in full flow now, on a subject that he was obviously passionate about. "Surgery and drugs are the new dawn in modern medicine and it's only through gaining knowledge that we can make changes that help mankind. There are still many ailments and diseases that we cannot treat but, even in the last fifty years, scientists and doctors have made great medical advancements and as a result saved countless lives."
Will leaned over and patted the tracker's leg in a paternal gesture. "Ya'll get no argument 'bout that from me, doc. Yer skill an' dedication gave me a second chance wit' Vin, an' I'll never be able t'repay that debt even if I lived t'be a hundred!"
Clearing his throat self-consciously, MacIntyre smiled at the blond Texan. "You shall give me an ego the size of Nova Scotia if you continue to lavish such praise on me, Will! As I said before, I was only doing the job that I have trained for during the past twelve years or so."
Nathan had finished his coffee, and climbing to his feet he turned his attention to the physician. "Talkin' of training—m'ready when ya are, Andrew. I'll be back out later, Vin," the healer said to the tracker, who in turn gave his friend a distracted wave of dismissal.
"Excellent! Gentlemen, we will no doubt see you in a few hours. Oh by the way, Soames, has the maid reported any breakages to you in the last few days? I appear to be missing a bottle of ether that was on my desk, and I wondered if it had been smashed by accident whilst she was cleaning," MacIntyre asked the steward.
Soames shook his head. "No, she hasna mentioned aught t'me. P'rhaps she's kept it quiet, thinkin' I'd be cross. I'll ask her when she comes out tomorrow, MacIntyre."
With a curt nod of thanks, the Scottish physician then smiled at the dark-skinned peacekeeper and the two slowly walked towards the front door, already talking animatedly about the progress of the doctor's latest experiment.
"Those two are like a pair o' kids when they get jawin' 'bout all that science stuff!" Will Tanner remarked to the amused-looking steward.
"Aye! The doctor has found a talented protégé in Nathan and he's taking this teaching exercise very seriously indeed. Although I imagine both men are learning a great deal from one another."
The security boss nodded in agreement to his colleague's assertion. Helping himself to an apple from the bowl, Tanner examined the shiny red fruit before polishing it on his cotton shirt sleeve. Bending down, he then pulled a small knife from the side of his boot and began slicing off bite-size pieces of the juicy flesh.
Vin's eyes widened in horror as he watched his father's actions and his hands gripped the arms of the chair he sat on. Bruce Soames saw the shocked expression on the younger man's suddenly pallid features and quickly getting to his feet he went to crouch beside the peacekeeper.
"Vin! Are ye feeling alright, lad?"
Will Tanner had been absorbed in cutting and eating the apple, but on hearing Soames alarmed query his head jerked up and he tossed the remainder of the fruit and the knife onto the table. Leaping up from the bench the blond Texan stood on the other side of Vin, his hand immediately reaching out to touch the tracker's shoulder.
"Son?" Concern tinged that one word and, glancing across at the equally worried Scot, the security boss frowned in puzzlement.
"I'll get MacIntyre," the steward murmured as he pushed himself upright.
"No! M'fine, Bruce! I... I jes' need... some water," Vin mumbled hastily.
Will Tanner stayed at his son's side as the burly Scot hurried in to get a jug of water. Vin was silent, almost pre-occupied, but there were lines of tension around his eyes and mouth, although a little colour had returned to his face. The security boss looked perturbed, but apart from giving Vin's shoulder a squeeze of sympathy, he also remained quiet as he waited for the steward to come back out.
The tracker gratefully took the glass of water Soames offered him and after gulping down the contents, he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.
After stacking the used coffee cups and plates on the tray, Soames drew the security boss to one side. "Do ye want me to ask MacIntyre t'step out, Will?" the Scot asked in a hushed voice.
Tanner shook his head. "Nope, leave it fer the moment. I'll try an' get him talkin', an' see if I can figure out what's wrong. Jes' give us a bit o' privacy fer now, Bruce."
"Aye, he has been awfully quiet—more so than normal. But he looks more upset than tired. Call me if there's a problem, won't ye?"
"Don't worry, if I think Vin needs MacIntyre, folks'll hear m'bellow all the way to the Rio Grande!"
Vin watched the two men through slitted eyes, knowing that their quiet conversation was about him. He could feel the air of concern around both men, but it would be difficult to explain what was troubling him as he had no answer even for himself. Letting his head fall sideways, his gaze then fell on Will Tanner's abandoned knife, and reaching out a trembling hand, the tracker picked up the vaguely familiar object. He didn't know how or why, but the knife was somehow the cause of his distress and, as he turned it over and over in his hand, memories of his grandfather suddenly surged through him.
Getting to his feet, the peacekeeper went to lean against one of the porch supports, his eyes fixed bleakly on the landscape. Had the older Texan lied to him after all? The thought of being deceived left a sour taste in his mouth, but Vin didn't want to think ill of his father—particularly as he was starting to feel an overpowering family connection with the older man. Although as this need for a blood kinship came to prominence, he experienced a strange sensation of disloyalty against his other 'family'. There shouldn't be any rivalry, but the tracker still felt divided, almost as if there was a subtle warring of the two separate factions.
Soames had disappeared into the house, and the security boss now came to stand beside his son. "What's botherin' ya, Vin?" Tanner enquired.
The tracker stared at the hills on the horizon, his fingers absently tracing around the knife's ornate handle. Finally, he faced his father. "Ya lied t'me! Chris was right an' I didn't believe him! I fell fer yer story hook, line an' sinker!"
Will Tanner's mouth fell open and he shook his head in astonishment at the bitter vehemence in Vin's words. "What story? I ain't lied t'ya, son! Why are ya sayin' this?"
"'Cos o' this!" Vin spat out, brandishing the knife hilt upwards.
"M'knife? I don't understand. What's so special 'bout that?"
"This was Grandpa's! I recall seein' him wit' it jes' afore he died. So how did ya come t'have it now? Ya must've returned to Grendon... so... so why didn't ya come back fer me?"
The older man winced at Vin's blunt accusation. Biting his lower lip, he gazed at the Comanche blade, but his mind was reeling with this startling new information. Did Samuel Joseph betray him all those years ago? If he had, then the man must also have lied about his movements following the gangs break-up and Tanner's subsequent capture by the Texas Rangers. And he'd been stupid and gullible enough not to realise it. Thinking more about the sequence of events following the Army payroll robbery more than twenty years previous, the security boss suddenly wondered if his old partner was responsible for the death of his father. If that was the case, it would certainly throw a different light on several things that had perplexed him over the years.
Realising he needed to dispel any suspicions that Vin might have about how the second knife came into his possession, Will Tanner began to make a hasty explanation to the younger man. "Son, I swear t'ya, I never saw yer grandfather again after walkin' out on him jes' before that last robbery. An' it was only bein' locked in the stockade that stopped me returning fer ya an' Rosie. Vin, I was wounded an' captured before I could make it home t'Grendon. Otherwise I would'a come back fer ya."
Rubbing at his temple to try and ease the headache that was starting to build behind his eyes, the young Texan considered his father's words. The explanation seemed plausible, but it still didn't clarify how the older man had got hold of his grandfather's knife.
"So what's the story wit' this?"
The security boss stared at the small weapon that Vin held up. "That's mine. Pa had a pair o' 'em, an' on m'twenty-first birthday he gave me this one—kinda like a token fer becoming a man. I'd allus hoped t'do the same fer m'own boy, but things didn't work out that way. P'haps this is how it wuz meant t'be. I want ya to have that, son. It'll be like the circle's complete then... y'know, pa, me an' then you."
The tracker nodded distractedly as he tucked the blade into his shirt pocket. He'd accepted and believed everything his father had told him about his family, but he detected an aura of unease in the older man; not an outright falsehood but something more subtle and complex. Was Will Tanner hiding some dark secret from him? And did it have something to do with his grandfather?
Vin slowly made his way back to his seat, unsure what to say. The tense confrontation with his father had disturbed him and his legs suddenly felt very shaky. He wasn't about to give MacIntyre any excuse, justified or not, to drag him back to the bedroom so, sinking down onto his chair, he propped his feet up on the stool and stretched across for the glass.
"Let me do that, son." Two pairs of matching blue eyes locked together as the security boss picked up the jug and poured water.
Vin frowned as he studied Tanner. "What ain't ya tellin' me, Will?"
"'Bout the knife?"
"No. There's summat else. Ya never really told me what y'knew 'bout Grandpa's death."
Vin sipped at his drink, watching intently as Tanner pulled one of the benches closer and sat down beside the peacekeeper. It was clear that the older Texan was not relishing this next conversation.
"That's 'cos I don't know the exact details of his passing, Vin. The prison Governor warn't a sympathetic man an' I guess he thought a convicted outlaw had no right hearing 'bout his folks—even the death of a close family member. I can only tell ya what I learned after getting out of the stockade. In fact, ya prob'ly have a better idea 'bout the circumstances of his death than me," the security boss said in a quiet voice.
"How can I? I warn't even wit' him when he died! But I told ya that an' everythin' else I could remember."
"Mebbe ya know more than ya think, son," Tanner said evenly. Taking a deep breath, the man continued. "Vin, ya were at the cabin the day pa was murdered, an' ya must've seen or heard summat that terrified ya. I've bin tryin' t'find the right time t'tell ya this, but I didn't want t'upset ya while ya were still sick. When ya had that fever a few days back, ya kept rambling on 'bout what happened all those years ago."
"That's impossible! How the hell could I speak of summat I didn't see?"
"Waal, that had me puzzled too, but it was the only thing ya spoke 'bout. It warn't an easy thing t'hear, son; I soon realised what must've happened t'ya on that fateful day, an' listening t'ya anguished cries tore me apart. Josiah picked up on it too, 'though he was kinda surprised that ya didn't call out fer Larabee—'specially as he was the one that brought about yer collapse jes' hours earlier."
This was the first time that Will Tanner had mentioned the gunslinger's involvement in Vin's relapse, but the tracker pointedly ignored his father's forthright condemnation of Chris Larabee. "What did I say then?" he asked defensively.
The tracker listened intently as the older man related details of what Vin had said in his delirium, and the peacekeeper nodded knowingly when his father mentioned the secret compartment under the cabin floor. Vin's childhood recollection of the cabin layout was unclear, but he distinctly recalled his grandfather storing equipment and supplies under the floorboards.
"So ya think I was stuck in the hidey-hole while someone killed Grandpa in the room above me?" the tracker asked dubiously as his father fell silent.
"That's what it sounds like. I allus assumed ya'd bin out, at school mebbe, or fishin'... I dunno... p'haps I jes' convinced m'self o' that so I felt less guilty! I knew ya were alright an' they finally told me ya were wit' some nice folks in the area, so I tried t'put it outta m'mind. Little did I know it was summat ya'd bin carrying 'round wit' ya all these years."
"Why can't I recall any of this? It doesn't make sense... I reckon I'd have remembered summat as terrible as my own kin being killed in front o' me!" Vin exclaimed.
"Waal, I spoke to Andrew 'bout... " Tanner paused when he saw the pained expression on the younger man's face. "Vin, he couldn't help but hear what ya said, 'cos he nursed ya all night through that fever. Don't worry, he told me he's bound by some medical ethic that means he has to keep stuff like that confidential. An' I reckon ya already trust Josiah not to blab it 'round. Anyhow, the doc said ya could be sufferin' from... now what the heck did he call it...? Oh yeah! Traumatic amnesia! It's like ya block out summat bad, an' convince yerself that ya didn't see it happen. Apparently, Andrew did some research into it when he studied in London, an' he said it's becoming a recognised mental ailment."
"I don't have amnesia! I remember real well going t'live wit' the Dawson family, 'cos I hated it there! That must've bin right after they buried Grandpa, so m'memory ain't that bad. An' I ain't crazy!"
"I didn't say ya were! But it's odd that ya can recall certain things—even the not too pleasant bits—while ya've buried other more important stuff. Ya were jes' a kid, Vin, an' if ya did see summat happen t'pa, then Andrew believes it'd have a profound impact on yer memory. He also thinks that's the reason ya cain't bear bein' closed in anywhere. It's like ya feel trapped ag'in, in a small, dark space."
Tanner saw the disbelief written on the tracker's features, but he wanted to get his point of view across to the plainly sceptical man. "Vin, when I was a kid living in that same cabin, I played a stupid prank on ma. I was ten or there'bouts, an' I hid away in that compartment, meanin' t'scare her by leapin' out at her. Thing is, ma was doing the cleaning that day an' she'd moved all the furniture into the middle o' the room so's she could sweep an' mop. The lid got covered wit' the piled up stuff. An' then she got called out to the barn t'help pa wit' a calving cow. I was stuck in there for hours! Waal, that's what it seemed like! I don't mind admitting t'ya, when she eventually came back in an' hauled me out, I was gibbering wit' fear. I never went near that damn hidey-hole ag'in!"
Vin was silent as he thought over his father's words. Life had been simple and straightforward before Will Tanner had arrived on the scene, but now it seemed like confusion and conflict taunted the tracker with alarming regularity. It didn't seem possible that he could know something, yet not have any recollection of the incident at all. Had he witnessed his grandfather's murder or seen the killer? Could he have done something to prevent the old man's death? And how had he eventually got out of the under-floor compartment? There were too many questions and not enough answers, although he suddenly realised that he could be the key to unlocking the mystery of George Tanner's violent and premature death.
With a heavy sigh, Vin placed the half forgotten glass back on the table. "Thinking of all this is makin' m'head twirl! It jes' doesn't add up, Will. How come I've never said anythin' about this before? What's so different now, after all this time?"
"I reckon I'm t'blame fer that, 'cos I've stirred up all them submerged memories inside yer head. The good 'uns an' the bad 'uns!" the security boss exclaimed ruefully. The trap had been set and the older man waited expectantly for his son to take the bait.
"Grandpa never hurt no-one. He deserved better," Vin said softly, almost to himself.
This was precisely the conclusion Will Tanner wanted the other man to reach, and he quickly nodded his own assent. "Yeah, he did, son. I ain't sure whether anythin' could be done after all these years, but it doesn't seem right that this crime should go unpunished. Justice should be done, if it's at all possible."
"Hmm. Will, d'ya reckon I might r'member more if I went back to the cabin? That's allus assuming it's still standing o' course!"
Tanner smiled, delighted at how easily the younger man had played into his hands. With the outstanding bounty on the tracker's head, the security boss knew that Vin would have objected to returning to the Tanner homestead if he'd openly made the suggestion, and he'd been reluctant to use more forceful methods of persuasion. He needed his son's help and co-operation to achieve his goal, but couldn't afford to show his hand too early. Now it looked as if the peacekeeper was willing to risk journeying back into Texas, although the reason for returning wasn't one the security boss had envisaged.
"It was still there a few years back, 'cos I stayed in it fer a short while after getting out of prison. That was when I last visited yer ma's grave too. As fer how much ya could recall... waal... I dunno. It d'pends on how much ya actually saw I s'pose. But if we don't try then we'll never know, will we? I reckon we both owe a debt to yer Grandpa, so even takin' a long shot must count fer summat. An' even if we cain't make the guilty pay—I s'pose knowing the truth 'ud give us both some peace o' mind. At least pa's spirit could rest properly then."
"Yeah. He taught me all the things a father should, an' I want... " Vin cut off the reproachful comment, throwing a contrite look at the other man.
"Guess I deserved that, son. An' I'm asking a lot of ya by suggesting we head inter Texas. It'll be a dangerous trip if we have t'stick to the hills and back trails. But wit' that warrant out on ya, we couldn't chance taking the train or stage, nor using towns. We could be travelling fer some time."
"Done it afore, likely do it again. An' it warn't yer idea t'go back. This is summat I have t'do; I'll not rest easy wit' m'self otherwise. So, when are we leaving?" Now that Vin had made the decision to return to his childhood home, he was keen to have a specific time schedule for the trip.
"Hold on! Yer puttin' the wagon afore the hoss, boy! There's no point in goin' off half-cocked! Pa's waited all this time fer justice—I reckon another few weeks ain't gonna make no never mind. We'll be better off waiting 'til the spring rains've finished, 'cos many of the trails will've bin washed out. Not only that, ya ain't really fit 'nough jes' yet t'take on such an exhausting ride. Andrew 'ud have his drawer's in a right ole twist if I let ya leave before ya recovered yer strength! I'm aimin' t'come back here y'know, so I don't want t'make any enemies—especially one who wields a scalpel like the doc does!" Tanner exclaimed wryly.
Vin chuckled at the joke, but then his face became serious as he thought over what his father had just told him. "M'glad yer fixin' t'stay in this area, Will. This is where I belong now—where I'm happy. I never thought I'd say this, but I feel the homeward pull whenever I've bin someplace else. An' it would've bin hard to leave m'friends."
"I know, son. A man would have t'be blind and stupid not to see what a fine bunch o' men ya've got as pards. Ya have to cling tight to such a powerful friendship an' loyalty."
The pair sat in companionable silence for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Vin, there's summat I've bin ponderin' on fer a whiles now," the older man began. "This is fine hoss breeding country that ya've found fer yerself, so mebbe we can find us a decent lump o' land here'bouts and set up a small-holding together. I'd really like that, son."
"It sounds mighty tempting!"
"Yeah, it does. But first we've us got some unfinished Tanner business to settle. Of course, I'll have t'speak to Robert 'bout all o' that. He ain't gonna be too thrilled by me takin' off an' leavin' him t'deal with the likes of Kehoe and his pards, although I feel sure he'll understand m'motives fer goin'."
"Hmm," the tracker murmured in agreement. "Will... I ...I'd rather ya didn't mention any of this to anyone else fer now." It was a strange paradox in a way, but Vin was sure that Chris Larabee was the only one of his friends who would fully appreciate his reasons for making the dangerous jaunt into Texas. The gunslinger had also lost loved ones to a cold-blooded killer and would have no trouble in accepting the tracker's need for justice and revenge.
The older man gave a short laugh. "Yer thinkin' Larabee could be a mite pissed if ya up an' left wit' me t'go back t'Grendon?"
"I'm m'own man, an' I ain't gotta answer t'Chris or anyone else fer that matter. But yer doin' him an injustice, y'know? Larabee will understand completely why I've gotta try an' right this wrong. No, it's the others that'll be more concerned—likely they'll be worried that I'll end up dangling from a noose!" Vin snorted, but his hand came up to unconsciously massage his neck. He'd felt the coarse bite of a hangman's rope before and it wasn't a sensation he cared to repeat.
Leaning across to the peacekeeper, the older man grabbed Vin's hand in a strong clasp. "I promise ya son, I wouldn't let that happen. If anyone tried t'take ya in, I'd fight 'til m'last breath t'protect ya. An' if things did look real bad an' we got caught in a tight place... I'd be sure to save two bullets in m'chamber. We're the last o' the Tanners', an' we'll go down together if that's how the cards fall."
There was a determined tone to Tanner's voice and as two pairs of blue eyes met, Vin gave an imperceptible nod. There was no mistaking the older man's intent. He would put a bullet through the tracker's head, to spare his son the humiliation of a painful and public execution, and his final act would be to end his own life. The blond security boss had no wish to spend his last days incarcerated in a stinking prison; and there was no doubt that the authorities in Texas would punish a former outlaw if he was caught aiding a man wanted for murder.
"Let's pray it don't come to that, huh? Hell! Wish I didn't feel so tired all the time. All I seem t'do is sleep!" the tracker complained, around a huge yawn. It was early afternoon, and the visit from his colleagues, plus the emotional discussion with his father had sapped what little energy he had. As much as it frustrated him, Vin knew that he needed to rest. Adjusting the pillow behind him, he relaxed back in the seat, sinking lower into the chair as sleep beckoned.
Will Tanner was quietly thoughtful as he watched the tracker doze off. Reaching over for the blanket on the footstool, the security boss carefully draped it over Vin's recumbent form, gently shushing the younger man as he momentarily shifted in his sleep. Letting out a satisfied grunt as the peacekeeper settled once more, the older man then picked up the saddlebag that Ezra Standish had left on the table.
After hastily unfastening the buckle, it didn't take Tanner long to realise that he was looking at the tracker's few treasured possessions from his past and, as he pulled out the small leather bound Bible, he instantly recognised the well-thumbed book. This had belonged to Vin's grandmother. Peering at the other items inside the bag, the security boss nearly laughed out loud. Chris Larabee had done his utmost to keep him from seeing these things, and the fight he'd had with the suspicious gunslinger after breaking into Vin's wagon had been the main cause of the argument between the two peacekeepers. Evidently, the young Texan had asked for the mementos to be brought out to the ranch, which probably meant that Vin had chosen to show his father the cherished family keepsakes.
It was a definite indication of how much the tracker had begun to trust Will Tanner, and it also sent a clear message to the security boss of what Vin was willing to share with him. The older man saw this as a major breakthrough in their relationship, and he was suddenly hopeful that he was beginning to replace the gunslinger in Vin's affections. As this realisation grew, he was astonished to admit that he no longer felt such a burning desire to wreak his personal vengeance on Chris Larabee—it just didn't seem to be that important any more. Although with his former partner in crime skulking around the area, Tanner was sure that the other man would soon be making his own move to deal with the black dressed peacekeeper. Samuel Joseph had lost blood-kin to the gunslinger and, therefore, had a greater reason for exacting revenge.
Carefully stowing the Bible back in the bag, the blond Texan let out a quiet sigh of contentment. It had been a very productive day. The concerted effort on his part to pierce through the tracker's personal barriers, had reaped dividends, and Tanner felt justified now in taking the more protracted route to gain the younger man's confidence. He had finally achieved the hardest part of his objective by manoeuvring Vin into making the return to Grendon and, once the pair got back to the old homestead, he felt sure that the tracker would be able to lead him to George Tanner's secret hiding places in the hills. Gazing across at the sleeping peacekeeper, the security boss felt the stirring of something that he hadn't experienced for many years; an increasing feeling of kinship.
Things were slowly falling into place and, after more than two decades of uncertainty, the older man was optimistic about his future. The promise that he'd made to Vin earlier had been sincere and, for the first time in many long years, Will Tanner was prepared to take a personal risk in order to protect his family. There was someone in his life that he cared for now, and he wanted the young man to share in the booty that waited in Texas. The money would never make amends for what had gone before but, if he could start to build a closer relationship with the tracker, then he would die a happy man. It was part of his dream, and he could now see it coming to pass.
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