Blood, Sweat and Fears
"What you gonna do about it, boy?
Two to the left, one on the right, and J.D. was fairly sure there was one more somewhere behind him. Counting the leader, that made at least five guns to J.D.’s two. Hardly fair, but he’d be gentle...
"Drop your gunbelts. You’re all under arrest." J.D. Dunne, Four Corners’ duly appointed sheriff, calmly waited for his orders to be carried out.
"Don’t think so." Curly Pete, wanted in two territories and parts of Mexico, was positively smirking.
The hard way then, thought J.D.. OK by me. He narrowed his eyes in anticipation of what would come next.
What came next was noise, then surprise, as J.D. realized he was staring at the sky. What had gone wrong? Hadn’t he drawn first? Judging from the growing darkness, he wouldn’t have much time to figure it out. He knew he was dying, he could feel his life slipping away into the dust of the street.
"Son." The sky was replaced by the friendly form of Josiah Sanchez.
"Jos...wha..." Speech was difficult.
"Rest easy, J.D. It won’t be long now." Josiah looked down at him sadly. "Forgive me, but I couldn’t let you do it. The Bible says ‘Thou shalt not kill’, J.D.. Thou shalt not kill". Josiah’s opened his outstretched hand to reveal the cartridges out of J.D.’s twin Colts.
With his mind screaming denial, J.D. slipped into the darkness...
"NOOOOO!!!!."
J.D. awoke sodden with sweat and gasping for air for the third time in as many days. "What in hell was going on? So far he’d dreamt Ezra had shot him for his inadequate poker playing skills, Nathan had sneezed while removing a bullet --fatally wounding him with his knife, and now Josiah’s betrayal. What next? Vin? Chris? Buck? Would the dreams stop after that? He shivered in the cold, wet bedclothes.
One of the many pleasures in Buck Wilmington’s life was his tutelage of the town sheriff, and it usually included an early morning visit to his pupil. Lately, however, J.D. had grown a little haggard, and today Buck meant to find out why. Besides...last night had been spent solo and sober, and he needed to needed to take it out on someone.Still and all, Buck couldn’t help but grin as he passed the Bath House en route the the jail--the memories were just too pleasant and a little too recent. Nothing like a hot tub of water to ease a man’s soul and raise his spirits, especially if the company is of the fairer sort. Maybe J.D. just needed to bathe more.
The door to the Sheriff’s Office was barely open before Buck sensed something wrong. J.D. sat at his desk, looking for all the world as miserable as Chris Larabee normally did. Hell. Buck thought irritably, I know he wants to be like Chris, but this is taking it a bit far.
"J.D., get off your butt and join me at breakfast. You look like you could use some." Buck didn’t wait for an answer, he grabbed J.D.’s hat from the desktop, plopped it down on J.D.’s head, and pulled the younger man towards the door. If J.D. launched a protest, Buck didn’t hear it.
Staring deep into his coffee, Sheriff Dunne wore the expression of a doomed man. No amount of ribbing from Buck’s quarter seemed capable of breaking through the layer of despair J.D. was living within.
"Boy, what in hell is wrong with you? You look like you’ve lost your best friend, and you ain’t even got a best friend!" Buck kept up his cheerful assault.
"I’m gonna die, Buck."
"Hell, kid. That’s what’s bothering you? We’re all going to die. You. Me. Everybody."
"Yeah, but I’m gonna die soon. I’ve had dreams..." J.D. went quiet, unwilling to reveal that his dreams involved his friends.
"Dreams?" Buck was incredulous. "You’re this worked up over dreams? J.D., everybody has dreams of dying. It’s nothing to worry about. Hell, even I’ve had dreams of dying. Don’t mean a thing."
J.D. fidgeted, trying to decide whether to confide in his friend. "I gotta go. Thanks for the coffee, Buck."
"I’m paying?" Buck tried to look aggrieved. "Just promise me you’ll get some sleep?"
Pushing back his chair, the boy-sheriff of Four Corners gave Buck an unreadable look. "Sure." He rose and strode out of the hotel headed back to his office, to the only haven he could imagine. Sleep was the last thing he wanted. Sleep meant dreams.
J.D. stared at the paper...unable to grasp what he saw. The new wanted posters had arrived by stage, and at the top of the stack was one with his name and likeness. Somehow there was a $500 bounty on his head--he was wanted for murder. This couldn’t be happening. How could he be a murderer? It was a mistake.
"J.D." Vin Tanner leaned against the entrance to the Sheriff’s Office, looking very much the bounty hunter.
"Vin." J.D. waved the poster. "This is wrong. You know me. I’m no murderer." J.D. watched with widening eyes as Vin’s hand slid towards his sawed-off Winchester. This wasn’t happening.
"J.D., it’s dead or alive. The choice is mine. Heck, I’ve wanted to quiet you down for a long while. Now I can do it legal like." Vin slowly smiled, drawing his rifle out of its holster.
"Vin! Wait! You can’t do this!" J.D. dropped his gunbelt. "I’m unarmed!"
"Sorry, kid."
Somewhere in the distance J.D. heard a gunshot. Then all was quiet.
"NOOOO!!!" Four down, two to go.
"What?" Chris Larabee looked up at his friend in total confusion. "J.D. had a bad dream, and you think I’m the answer? He looks up to you, Buck. You tend to him."
"Chris, he looks up to me, but he worships you. Hell, he probably thinks more of your opinion than he does anyone else alive. All you need do is talk to the boy."
"About what? Dreams of dying? We’ve all had ‘em. He’ll get through it, just like we did." Chris sipped his coffee, thinking it could stand a little more whiskey. "Besides. What good would I do? I’m still half convinced he’ll end up dead before the year’s out."
Buck stared levelly at the man who was closer than a brother to him. He knew he cared as much about J.D. as Buck himself did, but would never admit to it. "Just talk to him, Chris."
"Allright. I’ll talk to him." Chris glared. "Happy?"
"Enough." Buck rose and turned to go, not bothering to hide his smile. Chris could fool the others...
J.D. stared apprehensively as Chris Larabee strode into his office. Few men on this earth commanded his respect as Chris did. He’d die for him. J.D. thought about that for a moment...but mentally shrugged off the concern.
"Hi Chris. What’s up?" Rising nervously, J.D. tried to guess why Chris would visit him. It wasn’t a normal occurrence.
"J.D." Chris looked nervous himself. "J.D. We need to talk. There’s a problem."
"Can I help?" J.D. puffed out his chest, glad to be consulted by someone of Larabee’s stature.
"Yes, I guess you can help, at that." Chris smiled, a particularly evil smile. "J.D., I’m tired of a snot-nosed little brat licking my boot heels. You’re a pitiful excuse for a sheriff, for a man, for damn near anything. The way I see it, I’d be doing the world a favor by removing you from it. So..." He paused. "What do you think?"
"Chris." J.D.’s mind came to a screaming halt as Chris Larabee slowly drew, aimed, and cocked his Colt. And pulled the trigger.
He heard a familiar sound.
J.D. shuddered awake. Only Buck. Maybe Mary.
Chris entered the Sheriff’s Office and shook his head in amusement as J.D. upended himself and his chair at the sight of him. Buck’s right about the dreams getting to him, Chris thought.
"Chris!" As he scrambled to his feet, J.D. had gone pale as death.
"Relax, J.D. I’m not here to kill you." Chris smiled. It was apparently the wrong thing to say, inasmuch as J.D. went even paler, which Chris thought odd...seeing as death was so pale to begin with.
"Right." J.D. began to take deep breaths, attempting to regain his lost composure.
"Buck’s been worried about you. Says you’re having dreams." Chris looked genuinely concerned, which made the hairs on J.D.’s neck stand on end.
"Dreams? Ha-ha. Maybe a few. I’m just not sleeping well, that’s all."
"We’ve all had those dreams, J.D. Buck has. I have. They’re nothing to be ashamed of." Chris was trying his best to be soothing. It wasn’t working.
"Right." J.D. said again. His vocabulary was shrinking rapidly. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Chris’ gun. "Look. Chris. It’s nice talking with you, but I gotta go. I promised I’d help Mrs. Potter with something."
J.D. edged carefully around the man in black, escaping into the street.
Chris sighed.
As night fell, Four Corner’s Sheriff could be found in the saloon, drinking his fifth cup of coffee in the last two hours. No sleep, no dreams. He didn’t want Buck to kill him. J.D. couldn’t even hazard a guess at Buck’s motivation. Fighting over a woman didn’t seem likely. Maybe it’d be an accident, like with Nathan. J.D. looked over at Nathan, seated with Josiah near the stairs. Nathan caught his glance and smiled at him. J.D. smiled wanly back. Nathan didn’t mean to kill him. Josiah, on the other hand..
"Boo."
J.D., for the second time that day, fell out of his chair. Buck wasn’t going to need a dream to kill him, just his usual joking around would do the trick. J.D. wearily reclaimed his seat.
"Son, you really need to get some rest. Is that a gray hair I see on your head? Yes indeed, it’s a gray hair. Let me get that..." Buck plucked out the offending hair. "Whoa. Guess I was wrong. It wasn’t gray after all. But it will be, if you don’t quit fretting."
"Buck. I’m fine. I don’t need your advice or your help, and I sure don’t need you talking to Chris about me."
"So Chris talked to you?" Buck had already spoken with Chris, but J.D. didn’t need to know that.
"Yes. Chris talked to me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d both just leave me alone." J.D. stood, mustered his few remaining shreds of dignity, and headed for the door. He didn’t make it.
"Boy, you’ve still got a few things to learn." Buck’s voice grew dangerous. "And facing death is one of ‘em."
J.D. slowly turned to face his friend, his surrogate brother, his mentor. Buck’s gun was inches from his mouth. The hammer was back. J.D. dripped sweat and waited for the sound. The cold glint in Buck’s eyes seemed to freeze time itself, because the sound didn’t come. J.D. still waited, unable to look away from the gun barrel which would soon end his life.
"J.D.?" Buck’s eyes now gilinted with amusement. "J.D.?" Buck waved his gun in front of J.D’s face. "It’s not loaded, J.D. I was making a point. If you die tonight, you die tonight. If you die forty years from now, then that’s when you die. It’s not something you can stop from happening. Son, if I could I’d promise you you’d live forever. But that’s just not going to happen. I’m sorry."
The color slowly returned to J.D. Dunne’s face. Buck was right. Worrying about getting killed would just get him killed that much sooner. No point in rushing things. Buck was right. He looked around the saloon, trying to decide how embarrassed he should be.
Ezra pretended not to have noticed, but smiled slightly when J.D. made eye contact. Nathan and Josiah looked sympathetic, as they usually did, even in his nightmares. Vin was leaning against the bar showing no expression at all, which was probably for the best, considering J.D.’s frazzled state. But where was...
"I see you’re still alive."
J.D. jumped a good six inches at the sound of Chris’ voice. Much to his delight, he felt more irritated than frightened...once his heart resumed beating. He turned to view twin grins on Buck and Chris’ faces. J.D. smiled back. No more nightmares. Suddenly his smile faded...all that coffee...he’d never get to sleep.
Casey looked magnificent, wearing a lowcut blue dress, curved in all the right places.. From the moment she walked into the Sheriff’s Office J.D. felt ten feet tall and stronger than a dozen men, ready to take on the world, if required to. Casey closed in on him, brazenly taking his hands, smiling up at him.
"J.D."
"Huh?"
"I know we had dinner plans, but something has come up..." Casey demurred.
"Wha..?" J.D. looked past Casey, for the first time noticing a smiling Vin Tanner leaning in the doorway.
"NOOOO!!!!"
J.D. awoke sodden with sweat...
End