~7777777~
While Vin’s wound quickly heals under Nathan’s care it’s the fever and its insistence on revisiting time and again that wears everyone to the bone. Vin sleeps long hours waking only long enough to drink and take care of his most basic needs. He remembers very little of this time. Worried faces and the unusual gentle sound of their voices stay with him and sometimes haunt his dreams. Each time he wakes Chris is sitting by his side or standing somewhere near, looking over his shoulder as Vin quietly stirs. It’s such a common sight that very quickly he finds it difficult to focus on anything until he has sharpened his eyes on Chris.Nettie Welles has somehow stormed the gates that other kind women have left their best dishes at. It’s not unusual to wake to the sound of her bullying the lot of them. He smiles and escapes back to sleep.
It’s wonderful to have the smell of her cooking wake him up long enough for him to sip at the broth of her soup. The others, too, look well fed if not well rested. It’s wonderful to know somehow that Chris is near as he opens his eyes to find him sitting in a chair, elbows on his knees, his eyes smiling. It’s funny to see Chris in that same chair with Nettie behind him cutting his long, lank hair close to his skull. Vin struggles to stay awake - and sober - at the sight of Chris trying to retain some of his fierceness as Nettie pushes his head this way and that.
Vin falls back asleep wondering what Chris’s bristled crown would feel like against his palm. When he wakes again Chris is sitting nearer, leaning forward, daring Vin to say anything. Like any sheared lamb, Vin finds Chris silly and vulnerable looking without all his wool but instead of using his strength to tease he reaches out to satisfy his curiosity and places his hand on top of Chris’s head. It’s somehow softer than he remembers and yet it still manages to tickle his palm. This is how Nathan finds them, with Vin scratching Chris’s scalp in a lazy benediction.
“Miss Nettie says you’re next, Vin,” Nathan tells him over Chris’s shoulder and then watches Vin’s smile slide off his face. His snorts and then steps in front of Chris who never moves completely out of the way and lays his hand on Vin’s cool forehead. It crosses his mind that this is how they will greet each other from now on. Not with a handshake or a firm grip of the others forearm but instead, with a well meaning, heartfelt check for fever.
“What’s tickling you?” Vin asks with some of his old salt.
“Aww, nothing. Just glad you’re rid of that fever. Here…,” he leans awkwardly over Vin and then scolds Chris with a look. Chris finally moves as Nathan checks the small pink scar on Vin’s belly.
When Nathan stands to leave Vin tugs on his sleeve. “Uh, Nathan. I just wanted to thank you. All you boys. For taking care of me.”
Nathan watches Vin suffer with his gratitude and then he does it. He sits on the edge of the bed as he has for many nights and rests his palm on Vin’s forehead. He lets him feel with the press of his hand that if Vin ever needs him he will be there - unquestioning, never late and with his own gratitude. Vin lets out a surprised huff of air that lets Nathan know the he understands.
It’s night when he wakes again. A fire crackles reassuringly while a single lantern provides just enough light to show Chris standing in the doorway. He sips absently from a coffee cup, his thoughts obviously somewhere out in the dark center of the night. Vin remains quiet, not wanting to distract Chris away from the answer he seems to be looking for. But Chris is a sensitive animal so it’s not long before he straightens and looks over he shoulder to find Vin awake. He sets his cup on the bedside table inbetween the bandages and bottles and looks down at Vin.
“Hey, pard. You need anything?” Vin shakes his head no. “You thirsty? Hungry?”
“I could go for a drink.” Chris reaches for the water pitcher. “Maybe something a little stronger.” Chris pours the water anyway, ignoring his meaning.
“First some water.” He crouches down and slips his hand under Vin’s head. The water is sweet and satisfying, almost making up for its lack of potency. Chris lets him finish the cup before he pulls it away and reaches for his coffee. Vin lifts his own head to get to the cup which makes Chris smile. “Easy, cowboy. It’s still hot.” And strong and almost worth the wait. He supports Vin’s head again, letting him sip and measure with his eyes what’s left against how much more he wants. When it’s almost gone Vin remembers his manners and lets Chris finish off the rest of it.
With his hands free Chris fusses with the blanket and then places his palm on Vin’s forehead.
“No more fever,” Vin smiles. “Just a little tired.”
Chris nods and lets his hand fall back into Vin’s hair and tangle his fingertips slowly in it. He clears his throat. “Quiet - without all the boys here.”
“I can’t say I noticed.”
Chris smiles and then grows serious. “No. You were busy.”
They share a long silence that Vin finally breaks. “That feller who shot me - ”
“He’s gone.”
Vin presses on. “A bounty hunter?” Chris sighs and nods. “I was a bounty hunter.”
“He wasn’t even trying to bring you in alive, Vin. He was just hunting you.”
“There’ll be others.”
“We’ll watch your back.”
“You can’t kill ‘em all.”
“Yes. We can.”
“No. Chris. It ain’t right.”
It’s obvious that Chris wants to argue his side but there is no good argument for murder and he knows it. “Vin…”
“No. Listen…listen to me, Larabee.” When Chris finally looks at him Vin can see that he has aged before his eyes. It’s a sight that almost silences him but what he has to say is true and inevitable and there is no easy way around it. “There’ll be others,” he repeats. “And I don’t want any of you risking your lives to save mine or laying to rest every bounty hunter who’s carrying my picture around.” Then it’s his turn to look away and confess to the wall. “Aww, Chris, I been such a fool. I never meant to stay here this long. Letting folks know who I am - hell, even telling that writer feller that I was wanted. I’m only surprised there haven’t been more.” He turns back to Chris. “I just got too comfortable - lazy.” Sighing, he spells it out. “My only hope is Yates. And that’s if I can find him and what? - make him tell a judge that he heard I was innocent but he going to help hang me anyways?” He is suddenly out of breath. Winded by his own realization. “I ain’t ever going to be a free man in this country.”
Chris holds still despite the muscles in his legs that ache to run. “Then you have to go,” he bites off. “You have to go wherever you’ll be safe - and Vin, I have to stay here…”
“I know.”
“I have to stay and find Ella.”
“I know…”
“But not until you’re strong. You’ll stay until you’re strong again.”
“OK.”
“All right. Are you hungry? Do you need anything?”
“No, Chris. I’m just tired.”
“OK then. You just rest and I’ll…go see how much of my property that damn horse of yours has destroyed.”
He rushes out of the cabin leaving Vin wide awake.
~7777777~
The next morning when Nathan and Josiah ride up to Chris’s cabin it’s to the sight of Vin sitting on the porch steps.
Nathan calls out, “Vin, is that you sitting there unraveling all my hard work?”
Vin is unrepentant and simply raises his face back to the sun. “I heal faster out here,” he says as Nathan and Josiah settle on either side of him.
“No,” Nathan counters, greeting him palm to forehead, “you’re getting sunburned faster out here.” Vin scowls from under Nathan’s big hand but Nathan is also unrepentant.
“Good morning, Brother Tanner,” Josiah greets. “It’s good to see you upright under your own steam.”
“It’s good to be upright, Josiah.”
Nathan rolls his eyes. “I need to check that wound, Vin.”
“OK, Nate,” Vin acquiesces and then remains where he is.
Chris comes through the doorway with coffee cups that he hands to Nathan and Josiah. Vin reaches for his own cup between his feet and the strong brew goes a long way with simmering everyone down. Chris rest his elbows on the railing and sips from the cup he left there. He has resumed his post somewhere in the middle distance, not close to Vin where he’d like to be but never far in case he’s needed. Nathan and Josiah exchange a brief glance to acknowledge that something significant has happened in their brief absence and both know that only time will tell and not their taciturn friends.
They pass the time this way for a while only moving about to get more coffee and then settling back into their places like chess pieces.
“This is a beautiful stretch of land, Chris,” Josiah speaks their thoughts. “A fine place to raise horses if you took a mind to it.”
“It’s crossed my mind a time or two,” Chris confesses. Josiah toasts him.
Off in the distance JD and Buck ride up with Nettie’s small wagon between them. Long before they are near Chris throws the remains of his coffee over the railing while Nathan and Josiah unpack their horses of medical supplies.
“Look,” Buck calls out with what he hopes is appropriate sounding enthusiasm. “We ran into Miss Nettie in town.”
Chris steps down off his porch as fearless as ever and helps Nettie down from her wagon as much as she’ll allow him to do. Another large basket of food is brought inside along with blankets and clean sheets that Chris has no memory of her taking. “Thank you, Miss Nettie, for everything you’ve done for us. We’re much obliged.”
“Nothing at all, Mr. Larabee,” she reassures him. He starts to ask her to call him Chris when her attention shifts quickly to Vin. “Do you plan on sitting in the dirt all day, Vin?”
“No, ma’am,” Vin dares, while the others admire his bravery. “Just getting a bit of fresh air.”
“Very well. But you need to take in something besides coffee.” The men around her drop their heads knowing they have been scolded. “I brought a stew if that sounds agreeable to you.”
His stomach growls. “Yes ma’am. It sounds right good.”
Not a sentimental woman she leaves him on the step like the others have done and goes inside to oversee the reheating of her stew. Abandoned, Vin scoots to the edge of the step to leverage himself forward when Chris’s strong hands catch him under his arms and lift him to his feet. Carefully he wraps his arm around Vin’s waist and pulls his arm around his neck.
“Larabee…” Vin warns, “if you carry me in…” Chris’s eyes glitter but he allows Vin his dignity and walks him slowly inside.
It’s a strange comfort to have Vin near him despite the reason why. Would it be perverse of him to hope for a slow recovery so he can have Vin under his roof, tucked under his arm? Vin stops him by the doorway to catch his breath and then refastens his hold around Chris’s neck. Chris squeezes his hand. Take your time, Vin. Take your time. But it’s not in his nature. Vin pushes himself the last few steps until he is deposited on clean bedding. Chris puts his hands on Vin’s shoulders to ease him back but Vin pushes back. Stubborn and out of breath, he stares down the floor and remains upright. Chris rest his hands just above Vin’s knees and lets Vin bear his weight. I know you’re strong. Out loud he says, “Let me get you some water.” Vin nods.
“Mr. Larabee, I’m right behind you with a hot dish,” Nettie warns as if he didn’t know exactly where she was at all times.
Vin tries to swallow his smile as Chris straightens to his full height. They reshuffle themselves in the small space with Nettie setting up Vin’s meal, Chris pouring a cup of water and the rest of them escaping to the porch. There is a small commotion. A rattling of dishes, a rattling of nerves and then Chris is outside with the rest of Vin’s errant pardners.
Nettie doles out a bowl of stew for each of them and then informs them, “My apologies, gentlemen. I’m not going to be able to stay long today. Now that Vin is on the way to recovery I need to see to some of my own business.”
“Much obliged,” Chris repeats and stifles a relieved sigh. “I hope you’ll let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.”
“Thank you, no,” she says, climbing into her wagon before any of them can assist her. “It’s good for an old woman to get her hands dirty in a garden now and then.”
Chris feels his tenderness reaching out to her inbetween bracing himself. “JD, why don’t you ride with Miss Nettie?”
“Nonsense,” she protests and then hands out her orders. “JD, if you would, just stay here and finish your food and then when you’re done you can bring back some of my dishes. If you’re a mind to it, I can send you back with whatever the rabbits haven’t eaten from the garden.”
“Yes, ma’am,” JD agrees while the others chorus, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Gentlemen,” she nods to them and then without further ado snaps the reins smartly and is off.
When she is some distance away JD wonders aloud, “Do you think Casey will be like her?”
Most of them laugh and shake their heads. Only Josiah answers. “JD, she already is.” The truth of the statement sets them off except for JD who seems to be weighing the possibility.
Chris hears Vin call for him and goes inside to find Vin trying to untangle his feet from the bedding that Nettie must of tucked him into. Chris sets his stew on the table and goes to him.
“Chris…,” Vin’s voice begs for freedom.
Chris laughs a little and then takes it back. “Alright, alright. Take it easy.” It turns out that it’s only one foot that’s caught in the blanket and Chris frees it once Vin stills himself. A sock, nearly lost to the battle, hangs off of Vin’s foot. Chris straightens it with another chuff of laughter and then rests his hands again above Vin’s knees. He takes a long look at Vin’s exasperated face. “You look a mite tired. You sure you want to be up?”
“I’m tired of this, Chris,” Vin struggles to hold his temper but still pushes his clean bedclothes roughly away.
“OK,” Chris tries to sound nonchalant knowing that Vin would bristle even more at being soothed. “Let’s see what the boys are up to.”
Vin nods, a little shamefaced and then lets Chris help him back outside. When they make it through the doorway they are greeted with a small celebration. Chris notices that Vin is heartened by the fresh air and the good company as he settles him back on the step and then goes back inside to retrieve their stew. He hands Vin his bowl and then forgetting himself sits down beside him with a sigh. While the stew is tasty it seems like a lot of work for one meal but he keeps that thought - like so many others - to himself.
He lets his friends voices drift over him, only responding when he is spoken to directly. His attention, which has been fatigued for so long, rests near Vin who he knows will allow him his silence.
Josiah dries the plates that JD dutifully washes while the others remain outside. Occasionally Buck will call to them over some argued point that Vin has somehow managed to tie him knots over despite his condition. By the time one of them opens their mouth to respond Buck is on to another point. Chris almost smiles when he realizes that that even when he had a small child in his home it was never this busy or noisy.
Ezra, a man of impeccable timing, arrives just as the last dish is being dried. “Gentlemen,” he calls out as he dismounts. “I came here to see if I could provide some form of distraction,” and pats the deck of cards tucked into his breast pocket, “but I see that you already have the sun on your faces.”
“Pull out that deck of cards that’s tickling you,” Chris squints up at him. “I reckon we can handle both.”
As Chris goes inside to fetch Ezra some coffee Josiah dries his hands and joins the rest. Chris watches as JD carefully packs Nettie’s dishes into one of her baskets and takes some comfort in that he is not the only one who walks lightly around her. He pats JD reassuringly on the back on his way out which puzzles JD a bit but Chris is sure he will survive the uncertainty.
Ezra has usurped Chris seat next to Vin. Chris hands him his coffee for which he interrupts himself to thank him for and then barrels on. Vin catches his eye and they share an amused look. JD breaks the exchange by none too gracefully stepping over Ezra’s legs and causing a minor uproar by narrowly missing his head with the basket he carries for Nettie.
As he climbs up on his horse Chris reminds him, “ Be sure to thank her, JD.”
“And say hello to Miss Casey,” Buck winks at him.
JD scowls at Buck and tips his hat to the others and then is off at a gallop. Nary a plate rattles.
They settle around Vin as Ezra deals a hand. Chris begs out and sits in a chair that Josiah has brought out along with one for himself. He begins to whittle as the game starts and stops as they eat the oatmeal cookies they are betting with. The wood in his hand begins to look like a ship when Ezra’s voice catches his attention.
“Mr. Tanner…?” Ezra begins and then tries to hide his worry. “I do believe that you have lost your poker face.”
Chris flicks his knife closed and crouches down beside Nathan who is lifting Vin’s chin off of his chest. Vin’s eyes are barely open, his winning hand spills onto his lap.
“He’s all right, he’s all right,” Nathan reassures as he pats Vin’s cheek. “Just tuckered out.” He goes to lift him but, of course, Chris is there ahead of him to cradle Vin in his arms. Nonplussed, Nathan escorts them inside where he turns down the bed as Chris eases Vin into it.
Vin takes that moment to rouse himself and when he sees that he is back in bed he groans, “Aww, hell.”
Chris smiles down at him. “Take it easy, pard.”
“You’ve had an eventful day, Mr. Tanner,” Ezra points out over Chris’s shoulder.
“Yeah, it’s been a hoot,” Vin fires back. “All ninety minutes of it.”
Ezra laughs, showing his fine gold tooth. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Tanner.” But Vin is already asleep. He begins to leave when he notices that Chris is sitting on the edge of the bed, bowed over as if he doesn’t have the energy to sit up straight. “Mr. Larabee…?” When there is no answer he starts towards him when he sees Nathan gesture with a heavy hand that they should just leave him be. Ezra agrees and leaves with Nathan.
Buck, who has been standing in the doorway is not so easily dissuaded. He comes in and places his hand at the base of Chris’s neck.
Slowly Chris looks up at him and is finally able to whisper his fears. “I don’t know what I’m going to do when he goes.”
There is nothing for Buck to say.
~7777777~
By some unspoken agreement Vin and Chris are left mostly to themselves while Vin makes his recovery. Vin takes over his own convalescence making Nathan’s visits purely social and brief. It’s heartening to see Vin up and around, taking slow walks with Chris around his property with his hand on Chris’s shoulder to steady himself. Just as often Nathan or one of the others will arrive to find Vin sound asleep with Chris somewhere nearby ready to ward off anyone or anything that might disturb him. Nathan believes he is not the only one who knows that Vin’s fatigue does not come from his injury but instead from some sadness rooted in resignation. He has set his will to do one thing and it will be done no matter how it pains him. It’s also obvious that Chris shares this weariness even as he stands guard.
While others wish to celebrate Vin’s recovery his pards gently discourage any further acknowledgement. All of them know that as soon as Vin is well he will leave Four Corners. It is not unlike looking up at a blue sky and being certain that bad weather is on its way.
The sun is setting when Vin joins Chris around his small corral. Chris is idly scratching Pony’s soft wide muzzle, nearly putting the big black to sleep while Peso tosses his head and prances around him. Vin cuts a green apple in half and hands one part to Chris and then holds his share out to Peso. While Pony savors it quietly, Peso nips the apple out of Vin’s hand. Unfazed, Vin pulls another apple from his pocket and cuts that one in half for him and Chris. He watches Chris take a big bite and then squint happily at the tart taste. Vin goes to take a bite when Peso nuzzles him and then steals the apple away, trotting to the other side of the corral.
“I’ll shoot him for you,” Chris offers.
Vin watches Peso map the corral. “Nah, I got plans for that ole glue pot.”
Chris smiles and holds out his half of the apple for Vin. After only a moments hesitation Vin takes a bite and then watches as Chris gives the rest to Pony.
Sharing with Vin makes Chris feel optimistic and ready to deny all the other thoughts that have been crowding his head. “I’ve been thinking about making this a proper ranch. Start small - let it grow with the town.”
Vin nods. This is where he should throw in his lot with Chris but he cannot and they both know it even as Vin encourages. “I can see it. Sounds like a fine idea.”
It is a fine idea but it will never happen. That green apple will be their supper. They will pass the evening with as little talk as possible and at sunrise Vin will leave Four Corners and all that it has held for him. The townspeople will whisper of him running to Mexico, Brazil or California while his friends will say nothing at all. Chris’s cabin is emptied once again. Baskets and dishes are returned to their rightful owners. His small corral remains as it is.
Chris, always a man of few words becomes near silent.
~7777777~
Anyone who speculated that Vin would head south or even west to California is proven wrong when instead he rides east. East through long miles of desert under blue skies and the cover of the moon and the stars. And while he moves with all the stealth that any desert creature might possess he feels no urgency to escape or reach his destination. The realization that these are his last days in this still unbowed country open his eyes as never before. The hard earth floor he sleeps on is a blessing because it allows such a spectacular view of the night sky. During the day the wind is at his back, lifting him up and urging him on even as his body tires. The cactus he drinks from is sweet nectar.
One night, without thought, he removes all his layers that protect him from the heat and the cold, that protect him from any exposure, and lies down on his bedroll with his arms outstretched. A supplication for flight.
While the night air is warm and still its mere presence on his skin is enough to set him shivering. He closes his eyes and listens to the sound of his breath become slow and deep. The muscles in his arms and legs become heavy as if he is about to fall off to sleep. His stomach drops and he inhales sharply but he is not falling but instead being lifted. He keeps his eyes closed for as long as his curiosity will allow and then slowly opens them to the sight of his body stretched out below him.
Once again, the world is before him. He stretches his arms out above his head and is immediately surrounded by other stars. Reaching for a constellation just at his fingertips he is flooded with memories of his mother. Her face, nearly forgotten over the long years becomes vivid and heartbreaking. Blue eyes and brown wavy hair. Part of her beauty is now his. A warm, throaty laugh over something he did to please her. The sound of her voice blessing him with sweet names and nonsense and he loves it even as he blows tunelessly into a harmonica over her words. She is reaching out for him, too.
With just the touch of her fingertips she is gone again only to reveal a blue moon, not unlike a child’s marble and he knows that the rest of his family is there.
Josiah, who he has entrusted with a gift for Chris, sits on the steps of his church and silently praises the moon and the stars with his eyes. Yes, Josiah. You are closer to heaven than you know.
Rain is with Nathan and they strain against each other quietly, whispering each others names breathlessly.
Ezra tosses profits to the wind and sits at his piano and plays a slow and beautiful song that brings his saloon to a reverent standstill. Buck and JD are caught in his spell. Poker hands are forgotten as they drift in their own thoughts.
Vin reaches for Chris but he’s not with them. In his empty cabin he lies on his belly in worn drawers that leave his back and feet exposed. He stares at the opposite wall but Vin knows that he is lost without sight or sound and sunk in too much emotion. Look up Chris, Vin wants to brag, I’m part of the night sky. I’m shining down on you. Chris stirs but only to hide his face in the crook of his arm. You are - you are beautiful even when you curl up with your pain. Willful. And contrary. I have never loved someone so dearly. I love you dearly.
The declaration cuts him loose. He is hurtled through a blur of stars until he is back in the desert he traveled so far from. He is breathless, almost choking. A tear tickles his cheek and runs into his ear. He tries to sit up but cannot. One hand rests on his chest and he feels something warm, like blood, splattered there. He reaches down and finds his cock too tender to touch. He stays awake just long enough to rub his seed back into his skin.
The light of day passes over him but it’s well into noon before he can rouse himself. His first thought is of Chris. He sits up and looks back over his shoulder at the trail he has already traveled. His back straightens at the thought of reclaiming his place there. If he was there he would be able to do whatever he had to do to clear his name. He knows six people - fierce men, all of them - and one in particular who would lay down their lives for him. They would set themselves against whatever stood in the way of Vin’s freedom no matter the cost. They would die for him as he would for them and call the price fair. It is this certainty that reestablishes Vin’s course.
He packs his meager belongings back onto Peso and continues east through the New Mexico territories, into the Texas Panhandle. East to Tascosa.
He feels himself start to shake. Chris would skin him alive - or least threaten to - if he knew what Vin was set to do.
By the time he reaches Tascosa’s main street Vin is well aware that he has already set events in motion that in turn will likely treat his fate as a matter of little consequence. He’s a wanted man, worth more than his salt, thanks in part to a large bounty put on his head for another mans crime. He is tempting his own fate, daring it to judge him harshly or let him be.
Eli Joe is dead but in truth, he met his fate without paying for his crime. Vin has no idea how he would explain to anyone - and especially to Chris - how the death of a man he knows only by name has haunted him even more than being framed for his murder. No one has paid the price for the death of Jess Kincaid who died only because he had the misfortune of crossing paths with Eli Joe. Vin is ready to pay that debt. And if he is honest with himself - which he can’t seem to avoid - he would also admit that he is through with running and hiding despite the travel plans he has made. He is proud of his name and can no longer abide having to whisper it as if it were gossip.
He rides into town slowly, not bothering to shadow his face. At the livery he leaves his name and two bits to the stable boy and carries his warbag to the nearest bathhouse. The beaded doorway rattles and sways as he sinks into the hot water. He assumes the posture of a man determined to enjoy a long soak and yet he is ready to stand of his own accord if anyone burst through the rosary door to finally bring him to court. It is, after all, exactly what he is seeking for himself. But his bath is uninterrupted as is the close shave he also tries to enjoy. He is almost out the door when he turns to the old Chinese man who has waited on him and asks, “Where can I find the sheriff in this town?”
The man looks up at him sharply and Vin would swear that he is trying to suppress a smile. “No sheriff. Over a year now. We ask and we wait but no one comes.”
Vin is not surprised. “What passes for the law around here?” At this, the man raises his palms up and shrugs. His meaning is clear enough. “Thank you, mister. Much obliged.” He tips his hat and steps out into the fading light.
The hotel across the street is boarded up and empty leaving the saloon his next stop. He orders a whiskey that is watered down and sits at the battered bar using the cracked mirror behind it to watch his back. Fights break out between men too drunk to land a solid punch. Ill used saloon girls move out of the way with slow and sad movements, like ghosts.
He leaves the saloon and buys himself some sweets at the general store just as it’s about to close. The livery proves to be quieter and have better company and that’s where Vin sleeps on his bedroll just outside of Peso’s stall. In the morning he rises and finds a small barely open restaurant willing to fix him strong coffee and eggs and bacon. He has a long journey ahead of him if he can reach the end of town.
He feeds Peso a couple of sugar cubes and laughs along with the stable boy when Peso stomps the ground for more. Finally, he rides out of town offering his freedom this one last time. At the end of the street he turns in his saddle to see that he is already forgotten. It occurs to him that men have traveled long distances to bring him back to this hard scratch of a town and now that he is here no one can be bothered to cross the street to collect him.
He stops at the cemetery and stands with his hat in hand over the small marker for Jess Kincaid. There are no words. Vin pays his respect with his silence and then leaves Tascosa just as quietly.
He has tempted fate, as he knows better than to do, and has left his hanging tree behind him. Now he can go on even as his loneliness settles in his joints. His body aches and pulls from the bullet wound and at night when he is tired and unreasonable afraid his fever revisits him. He is ready to cry out a friends name as if Chris is merely sleeping soundly nearby and needs only the sound of his voice to bring him closer still.
He sometimes hopes that the distance he is putting between himself and those he left behind will diminish his longing for them but the possibility that that might actually happen is cold comfort. It's better to find a way to put his arms around his near grief than to push his memories of Four Corners to the back of his mind as if it were one more sad thing to be outlived.
As he continues his journey south and then east he reminds himself that he has done this before. He reminds himself how he used to itch to leave Four Corners which only serves to remind him that he no longer did.
Once he reaches New Orleans he is tempted to stay. The ornate architecture, spicy food and boisterous, barely understood accents make him feel as if he is already in another country. Instead, he puts away his wishful thinking that he can ill afford and bides his time until he is able to book a passage on one of the trading ships. He soon finds one that is trading cotton and tobacco for sugar from Salvador and coffee from Rio de Janeiro. He watches as Peso is led wall eyed onto the ship and then boards with nearly the same amount of trepidation. His boots slip on the planks as barefoot crew members run around him and climb creaking ropes. The sails unfurl and snap open not unlike Nettie folding her sheets. There is no lurch or sense of movement. The port with its small throng of well wishers seems to float away from the ship and not the other way around. It’s only when they have maneuvered out to sea that Vin finally feels the wind in the sails pushing the ship onward. The ocean splashes up against the sides but does little to slow it down.
It hardly seems real. Too beautiful. Josiah had warned him that he would feel like he was in a dream or that he had stumbled into Paradise. The rigors of sailing keep Heaven at bay with sea sickness and rationed out food and yet Vin spends as much time as possible out on the deck, the wind in his face. Underscoring his near happiness is a sense of guilt for being witness to it all and an ever present longing for having no one to share it with. It will forever be something that he holds in his minds eye, so much like a dream, vivid and aching and never something he will be able to put into words.
With his spyglass he documents all that is before him and just out of reach. The ship sails out of the Gulf of Mexico, across the Caribbean and then down along the eastern coast of South America. Past the sugar cane and white sand beaches of Bahia, past Salvador and other cities named after saints, down along the green coast until he takes his first wobbly steps in Rio de Janeiro only to continue further south on Peso’s back.
I’m free. But he is too haunted to really believe it.
He decides that when a man is lost there is only one thing he can do: draw a circle in the sand, step into the middle of it and call it home.
~7777777~
Chris puts down his fork and glares at JD. For a long moment JD stares back, placid as a summer sky until Chris cocks his head and asks, “Is there something about me that you’d like to study up close, JD?”
Caught, JD stammers, “Uh, no Chris. Just haven’t seen you in a while. I - I was just wondering how you been.”
Buck nudges Chris. “He missed you.”
“That ain’t what I said,” JD protests.
Ignoring JD, Buck nudges Chris again. “I didn’t miss you. Not even a little.”
Chris glares at them all as a chorus rings around the table with each taking their turn to deny their concern.
Josiah raises his glass and says, “Chris, if I had known that you had left town, well, I woulda missed you.”
It’s enough to crack Chris’s scowl into a smile that he hides behind a shot of whiskey. Buck carefully shakes Chris by the neck and then lets his arm rest along the back of his chair, protective, whether Chris would accept it or not. In the long months since Vin left Four Corners it’s become rare for so many of them to be at the same table and Buck is glad to have any excuse to share a laugh with these men. Only Ezra is missing. Off to see his mother in San Francisco.
Buck takes a drink of his whiskey and being somewhat more wily than JD he steals a look at Chris. The long trips in search of Ella, and the men who conspired with her, have left Chris worn down and weary beyond his years. Cutting through dangerous territory he has already made his way to Albuquerque and Santa Fe and then down into Mexico where they might have fled for a quick get away. If not for the exhaustion writ across his face and into his bones, Chris would be on his way north to Kansas City. “A woman like Ella will hide where she can be waited on,” Chris reasons. He will find her, he swears. “It’s not like she’s some kind of ghost,” no matter how she haunts him.
Buck tries to hold his smile but it’s hard when he can smell the sour stink of Chris’s nightmare sweat and see the deep hallows of his cheeks. The muscles in Chris’s neck look drawn and strained, ready to break the bone underneath if they are taxed any further. He looks like he’s dying, Buck thinks, and tries to chase the thought away with the rest of his drink. His sense of helplessness chokes him and as Nathan pounds him soundly on the back Chris warns off his concern with another tired glare. Undeterred, Buck pours himself another shot and rests his hand back on Chris’s chair.
The next day Buck receives a telegraph from Ezra.
Returning to Four Corners ASAP STOP
Important news for Chris STOP
With those two lines they are left to wait.
Chris tries to bide his time at his cabin but it passes too slowly there and so he returns to town to wait. Once there, Buck feeds him as often as possible while JD and Josiah nonchalantly block all exits. Nathan’s good company slows him down but he still drinks to rest and passes out more than he sleeps.
When Ezra’s stagecoach finally rumbles into town Chris is brittle with anticipation. He sits at one of the saloons tables and pours another whiskey for himself and one for Ezra and waits in stony silence for him to arrive. JD bursts through the saloon doors to greet Ezra with one question after another until Buck pulls him off. Nathan and Josiah welcome Ezra back warmly and prepare to leave when Chris urges them all to stay.
“Might as well get this out in the open,” and then gestures to the chair beside him for Ezra.
Ezra shakes Chris’s hand firmly and accepts his seat and drink without his usual fanfare. The whiskey burns all the down to his belly the same way Chris’s look burns him. He clears his throat and begins.
“My mother recently met a gentleman by the name of Garnet Montrose.” Chris shows his impatience by pursing his lips and looking away. Ezra continues as he began. “Mr. Montrose took his inheritance and left the south before the war and against his families wishes came out west and made another fortune during the gold rush. He settled in San Francisco and it was there that he finally met his wife a little over a year ago. Unlike many men of his wealth he is a kind man and still grieves over his young wife’s sudden death.”
Chris looks back at Ezra. “Does this story have an ending?”
“My mother, being who she is, wanted to offer him some pleasant distraction from his loss - ”
Chris smirks.
“ - and together we visited his house for supper. Throughout the house there are photographs of his wife who died in her sleep after suffering for years with debilitating headaches.” Ezra pulls an unframed photograph from his breast pocket and sets it in front of Chris. “Mr. Larabee, this is a picture of Mr. Montrose and his wife Ellen, but I believe we knew her as Ella Gaines.”
Chris stares hard at Ezra and Ezra holds his eye and yet there is no challenge behind it. “Mr. Larabee, please…”
Slowly Chris leans over the picture without touching it and takes in the sight of a man in a fine suit and hat, soft and blurred with age, his arm proudly holding the small hand of the woman beside him. And there she is, pristine and dark and lovely. Ella.
Without looking up Chris asks, “She’s dead?”
“Yes. Five months ago. I believe Mr. Montrose knew her only as a lady of society from St. Louis who had been recently widowed. Miss Gaines has already devastated so many people I didn’t see any point in replacing his grief with humiliation.”
“How kind of you,” Chris mumbles.
Ezra looks to the others. They had been foolish to imagine toasting her death. JD stands silent and panting for air despite his uncommon stillness. Buck will look at nothing but the floor. Nathan sits heavily in a chair and leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Josiah watches Chris and prays. A piano plays brightly around them.
“Mr. Larabee…Chris, I can only hope that now that the architect of your misery has finally met her judgment that you can begin to grieve for all that you have lost and find a place beyond that to enjoy all that you still have. If there is - ”
“Begin to grieve?” The accusation staggers Chris. “I’ve done nothing but gr - ”
“You have been angry and hurt - without a doubt - but you have not grieved.”
“How dare you!” Chris seethes, knocking back his chair when he stands up.
Buck steps forward, the born peacemaker, and places a placating hand on Chris’s arm. “C’mon, Chris…”
Chris turns on him leaving a cut above Buck’s eye from the barrel of the gun in his hand. The piano stops.
Blood rolls into Buck’s eye as he throws a near blind punch that bloodies Chris’s nose. The saloon empties except for the six regulators as Buck lets loose years of pained frustration. Another blow connects with Chris’s cheekbone and then his last punch splits Chris’s lip as Josiah and JD pull him away. He struggles against them as Chris sits heavily on the floor. Ezra takes the gun from Chris’s lax hand as Nathan crouches by him.
“You’ve always blamed me for their deaths!” Buck shouts at Chris. “Haven’t you?!”
“Mr. Wilmington, now is not the time - ” Ezra pleads.
“You blame me for taking you away when they were killed. If I hadn’t of taken you away Ella wouldn’t of had a chance to hurt them, isn’t that right?” Some of the fight goes out of Buck but his friends still hold him. “Chris, you damn fool. I loved them, too. You know that. I would have never asked you to go with me if I thought they would have been harmed.” Suddenly weary, Buck hangs him head. “I loved them, too.”
Chris looks up at Buck from where he has remained on the floor. Tears cut a path through the blood on his cheek. His face slack, he nods to himself and then to Buck. “I know,” he quietly confesses. Buck dares to look at Chris’s ruined face and tries to swallow his shame. Something in the way Chris looks up at him implores him to listen one more time. “There’s a wild thing in me that never went away even after I was married - even after I was a papa. I used to wait for you to ask me to go somewhere - anywhere. To ride hard, drink. Kick dirt around until we found trouble. I loved them…but not enough.”
Buck moves unsteadily from his friends hold and sits ungainly on the floor facing Chris. He takes one of Chris’s hands and smoothes it between both of his. His bloody knuckles sting from the effort. “What’s enough, Chris?” he asks with a rough voice. “When you’re dead, too.”
At a loss, Chris mutely shakes his head and then leans forward and rests his forehead on Buck’s shoulder. Buck lets go of his hand and wraps his long arms around Chris.
Nathan stands and rests his hand on the top of Buck’s thick hair. “I’ll be waitin’ for you at the clinic.” Buck nods and pulls Chris closer. The others leave as the old friends reclaim their hold on each other.
~7777777~
It’s only early evening. The sun having just set leaves the sky dark blue. The watch fires have been lit, the piano plays again in the saloon while the rest of the town sets lanterns burning.
Josiah lets himself in to Nathan’s clinic with a soft knock. Nathan greets him with a tired smile and continues to clean up while Buck sits by a sleeping Chris. Josiah approaches Buck and tips his chin up. Cocking his head he appraises the stitches above his eye. “That scar will go nicely with your mustache.”
“Why, thank you. Nathan said the same thing so it must be true.”
Josiah nods and then crowds Buck out of his chair as only a friend can do. Buck wanders over to Nathan as Josiah rests his large hand on Chris’s face. He takes in the split lip that holds a single stitch, the swollen nose and blackened eyes, the heat from the bruise just under his hand. It’s as though Chris has been to war, and won, simply by surviving, but has yet to make it home. Josiah believes he can rectify that.
Chris stirs and opens his sore eyes. “Josiah?”
“I have a gift for you.” Josiah removes his hand and reaches under his serape. “A friend of ours said I’d know when you needed it most.” That said, he pulls out a small doe skin pouch attached to a leather thong. Vin’s medicine bag. Chris’s eyes well up but Josiah is not disturbed by it in the least. He carefully places the pouch around Chris’s neck and then rests his hand over it where is sits on Chris’s chest. “He assured me that it’s strong medicine made to heal all kinds of wounds.” Josiah smiles down on him as Chris’s eyes spill over.
“I have to find him,” Chris chokes out.
Josiah nods. “I don’t know why you stayed.”
Chris moves his arm over his eyes to hide any further emotion but it’s no use.
Josiah keeps his hand where it is. “I’ll tell you everything I told him about the trading ships that leave from New Orleans and sail around the whole of South America. I’ll tell you what it’s like to stand on one of those ships and see nothing but God’s blue ocean all around you. How easy it is to believe in Him again when you are surrounded by the wild things he has made. I’ll advise you to be careful of the spicy food when you stop in Bahia but to try it nonetheless.” Chris’s arm falls slowly away from his eyes. “My good brother. I want you to see as much of that beautiful country as possible on your way to Rio de Janeiro and from there, you will need to follow your own soul to find him.” Josiah pats his chest. “But I have no doubt that you will.”
Chris places his hand over Josiah’s.
My soul followeth hard after thee...
Psalms 63:8
In the predawn hours Chris walks with his usual crooked gait to the livery. The wind is high and strong and pulls at his hat that he has set firmly over his brow. Even from a distance he can see his friends waiting for him.
JD holds the reins to his horse as well as his own. Chris secures his warbag and then without preamble wraps his arms strongly around JD. He expects JD to feel small in his arms but he does not. This boy. This young man that he has chided and intimidated is as strong and solid as any friend could hope for. He smiles down at his startled, puzzled face and carefully adjust his terrible hat.
While his gentleness is genuine it’s also a cheat, and he knows it, but he cannot stop himself from trying to give these men something better to remember him by. Hat in hand, with his faulty affection guiding him, he offers both his firm handshake and his wide open arms.
Nathan holds him silently and lets go with great hesitation.
Ezra shakes his hand and then stalls until Chris confesses, “What a surprise you turned out to be.” In agreement, he pulls Chris to him and with emotion choking his voice he wishes Chris, “Safe travels, my friend.”
Josiah holds up a folded serape which makes Chris laugh past the lump in his throat. He hands it off to JD to stow in his warbag. He shakes Chris’s hand in both of his and then holds him just as securely. “I’m almost sure,” he intones in Chris’s ear, “that we’ll hear from you in happier days.” Chris can only nod against the soft wall of his shoulder.
Buck stares at Chris’s offered hand and steps past it to embrace him. The heels of Chris’s boots lift off the ground as Buck rocks him but Chris only holds on tighter. “People will talk,” Buck jokes.
“Let ‘em,” Chris tells him and keeps him arms around Buck’s neck for a while longer.
With the sun beginning to rise they mount their horses and ride out of town. They are a magnificent sight even in their abbreviated number. Chris rides in the center, each horse running to its full length. Four Corners reaches as far as it can into the wilderness and it is there, where all wild creatures thrive, that five of the riders come to a stop while Chris rides ahead. The morning sun soaks him in amber light while the wind blows his long coat out behind him. He stops and turns and raises his hat high in the air and then he is at a gallop again.
Chris pushes Pony to put as many miles behind him as possible. He passes quickly through the sparse desert towns staying just long enough to rest and then move on. Soon he is in Houston and from there he heads east. The spare beauty of the west gives way to the overgrown lushness of the south. A small precursor of what he will soon see from the deck of a ship.
He bides his time impatiently for over a month waiting for the ship that will take him where he needs to go. When she finally docks he sees that her name is Sojourn. He tries not to be awed by her working class beauty but it’s difficult when he can stand by her and look up and up and still see her height reaching for the sun. He smiles to himself.
Finally the day comes when he and Pony are brought aboard. The long planks bounce under his feet until he is on the ship looking back at the empty spot where he had stood just minutes before. His eagerness shifts its weight. This is it. He is seeking his future and not leaving it to chance or fate despite his lack of an exact destination. With shaking hands he is casting his lot into the fathomless ocean before him.
As Sojourn moves out to sea he pats his pockets down, unable to shake the feeling that in his rush to stand where he is, he has forgotten something important.
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