* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
A scream brought Larabee wide awake, but the sight that met his eyes made him wish it was all just a terrible nightmare: Vin was curled into a ball on the bed, Grandma Brush holding his head in her lap, one of her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she rocked him from side to side.
Chris shoved himself out of the rocking chair he'd fallen asleep in near the small bedroom fireplace, joining them on the bed.
Vin twisted and fought, trying to escape the burning agony that gripped his midsection and spread out to set his entire body on fire. All that filtered through was the pain, moment after endless moment of anguish.
Chris. Where's Chris? I want this t' stop. I just want it t' end!
The gunslinger looked to the older woman, who was frowning. She lifted her chin and met Larabee's worried gaze. "Put a bit of whiskey in a full glass of water and bring it to me," she told him.
Chris had just started to prepare the drink when the bedroom door opened and Laura Ellen rushed in. "Mama, two of those men are comin' back."
"Get the rifle, girl, keep 'em out of the house."
Chris brought the glass to her.
"Help me sit him up," the old woman told him.
The two worked to unfold Vin, maneuvering him so Chris could hold him propped up against his chest in a seated position.
Grandma Brush set the glass on the bedside table, then gripped Vin's shoulders, shaking him. "Wake up, boy. Come on now."
The tracker's eyes blinked sluggishly open, but they remained unfocused and unseeing. She raised the glass to his lips and he gulped thirstily, the coolness of the water helping to ease the fire in his stomach.
"Hang on, Vin. Just a little longer," Chris said quietly as the man drank.
Chris? He thought he could hear Larabee's voice, but it sounded so far away. He struggled to reach it, but he couldn't find his way through the maze that sprang up in his thoughts. "Chris!" he cried.
The gunslinger felt Vin begin to shake uncontrollably. "Easy, Vin, easy. I'm right here. I've got you."
Tanner tried to speak, but the pain seemed to separate his mind from his body, making it impossible for him to force the words out. He whimpered, scared and confused. But then the fog in his mind lifted and he finally managed to ask, "Wha's… happenin'… t' me?"
"Hang on, Vin. You hear me? You have to hang on," he heard Larabee whisper into his ear. "I don't want to lose–" Chris started to lay the injured man back down on the bed, but the tracker's panicked expression and soft squeal stopped him.
"He's scared," Grandma Brush said. "He don't really understand what's happening. You just sit there and hold him; hold him tight as ya can. You're his link to this world, right now, son. Ya let go of him, he just might just let go, too."
The older woman moved off the bed. She soaked several cloths in the water and draped them over Vin's torso and legs, trying to lower his fever.
Chris continued to sit, cradling the younger man in his arms, trying to quiet him as best he could. He was afraid to say anything, knowing that if he tried, his own fears would become obvious, so he hushed Vin quietly, like he would a new mustang, while he rocked him slowly from side to side.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Everything shifted. The terrible pain that had gripped him a few moments before slipped away like the fog of a bad dream and Vin suddenly felt light and free.
The world shimmered with colors and feelings the tracker had never known before. And, looking down, he could hear himself gasping for breath as he watched as Chris rocking him, cradled in his arms.
It was like a dream, all of it far away and slightly unreal, but the raw anguish he saw on his friend's face cut painfully into his being.
Aw hell, Chris, y' shoulda left. No reason y' had t' see this. Never wanted t' be another nightmare hauntin' ya like yer wife an' son.
More than a little confused, Vin glanced around him and realized that he was floating several feet off the floor in one corner of the small bedroom.
Must be crazy with fever, he thought as he continued to watch the two people working over him. That, or 'm dead.
He'd heard an old Kiowa woman say once that she'd flown like a bird around the camp while she'd actually been in labor. She'd very nearly died, and no one had expected her to recover, but she had. She named her daughter Cloud Sparrow, because she had seen her for the first time while she's been flying above, watching as the child was born.
He watched Chris reach up to touch his face, the words the gunslinger spoke reaching him like a distant whisper. "…best friend I've ever had, Vin Tanner. You're family, and I don't want to lose you. You hear me? You can't die, Vin. Hang on, damn you, just hang on."
I hear y', Chris, Vin said, but there were no words, no sounds. He glanced around the room again, searching for answers that were beyond his grasp. Just don't look like I got a whole lot t' say 'bout it.
Vin watched as his body's chest rose and fell in a frantic effort to force more air into his lungs. Guess I ain't dead yet, but I sure as hell don't understand what's happenin'.
He looked up at the ceiling, expecting to see angels, or something. Then felt ashamed.
Guess it won't be angels, he thought, suddenly ashamed of his first assumption. He'd hoped to see his mama again one day, in Heaven, but he wasn't sure the Lord would look too kindly on him, or let him into Paradise. Chris? he called.
He knew Larabee was there, his strong arms wrapped around him, and Vin wanted to reach out and grab hold of the man, to cling to him and refuse to give in to death, but he couldn't force his arms to rise.
Think 'm gonna die, Chris, he said, hoping his friend might somehow hear him. After all, they had shared an unusually close bond since the moment they'd met. Don't wanna leave y' like this, Cowboy, but I don't know what t' do. Y' got friends now, family, an' I know they'll watch out fer y' when 'm gone…
But he also knew that wasn't true. Oh, the rest of them would try and look out for Chris, but something deep inside him knew that if he died, Larabee wouldn't be too far behind. At least then he wouldn't be alone…
He'd felt alone for so long… until that day there in Four Corners when he'd looked out across the street and met Larabee's eyes. In that moment something empty inside him had been filled. He hadn't understood it at the time, still didn't, but he'd come to accept it, treasured it. No one in his life had ever meant as much to him, except maybe his mother, but those memories and feelings were so faded with time that he couldn't say for sure.
Chris was his family, his friend… The man was his heart. Or at least he filled his heart in some way that made him slightly skittish. He'd seen things, hell, had even had some things done to him a time or two… but what he felt about Chris, it was different. He wasn't sure he'd ever sort it out, but he wanted to. He wanted to understand all the things Larabee made him feel inside, all the ways he seemed to fill up his life… But he doubted now that he'd ever get the chance.
A commotion in the kitchen caught his attention. Laura Ellen was calling out a warning and he saw Grandma Brush grab his Mare's Leg from his holster, which was hanging on the bedpost.
Timmons and one of his trackers entered the room.
"That's far enough," Grandma Brush said, leveling the weapon on the men. She sounded like an angry mama bear protecting one of her cubs, and Vin grinned. She had grit. She and Nettie Wells had been cut from the same cloth and he was sorry he wouldn't get the chance to know her better… or to tell Nettie goodbye. Nettie had become the mother he's so desperately longed for, and he loved her like any good son would love his ma. God, why hadn't he ever told her that?
Timmons stared at the two men on the bed, his rifle lowering.
"Put your guns on the floor – now," the older woman snapped.
The two men complied.
Vin saw his body jerk and arch back into Chris, who was glaring at the men, the hatred burning in his green eyes as fierce as the tracker's fever burning against his skin. Larabee reached for his Colt and Vin realized Chris was about to shoot the men who had killed him.
"Move out of the way," Larabee growled at Grandma Brush.
No! Chris, don't kill 'em! You'll be on the run the rest 'a yer life, an' I won't be there t' watch yer back!
The older woman stepped to one side after glancing back just long enough to see the expression on Chris' face. Laura Ellen stepped in behind the two men, her shotgun held on them as well.
"See what you've done? This make you happy, Timmons?" Larabee growled ominously.
"Don't do anything foolish, Mister," the bounty hunter said.
"Foolish? Look at him!" Chris roared, the pain in his voice striking Vin like an invisible ocean wave. "Vin Tanner never murdered anyone you sonuvabitch! Eli Joe framed him for Jess Kincaid's killin', to get Vin off his trail! He was a bounty hunter then, just like you! You've killed an innocent man!"
Don't shoot 'im, Chris! Please!
Knowing the gunslinger was a moment away from killing Timmons where he stood, Vin scrambled to reach his friend before Larabee did something he'd have to live with for the rest of his life.
Chris! No! Listen t' me! Ain't worth that! Please! Don't kill him! Damn it, Lar'bee! Listen t' me!
God help me…* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin began to fight weakly in Larabee's arms.
"You get back to Vin," Grandma Brush said sternly, adding sharply when Chris hesitated, "Mind what I tell you, boy!"
But Chris was still fighting the impulse to kill the two men where they stood. They had taken Vin from him. That had stolen the man he loved from him. Then Tanner cried out, breaking through Larabee's blinding rage.
The gunslinger shoved his revolver back into his holster and wrapped both arms around Vin, trying to calm him down. "Easy, Vin, take it easy. That's it… Easy…"
"You two, in the kitchen," Grandma Brush directed with a slight wave of the tracker's Mare's Leg.
The two men backed out of the room as Chris reached over to place another cold cloth on the tracker's chest.
"Sit," she told the pair when they reached the kitchen.
Timmons and Dog sat down at the table, Grandma Brush holding the Mare's Leg on them while Laura tied their hands behind their backs.
"Where's the other one?" the older woman asked them.
"Covering the trail out of town," Timmons said, Dog shooting him an angry look when he did.
Vin cried out again in the other room and Chris' voice echoed out behind it, full of fear. "Mrs. Brush!"
Grandma left Laura Ellen with the men and went back to the bedroom where Chris was trying to hold Vin down while the tracker tried to fight his way up off the mattress, his eyes wide open but unseeing. Struggling to draw a raspy breath, his hands flailed weakly against Larabee's arms.
"Vin, take it easy. It's me. It's Chris. You're safe. Take it easy."
Vin could hear Chris' voice, and he was trying to find him, groping vainly in the pain and confusion that ruled his mind, but that only seemed to make Larabee mad. Why was Chris mad?
"Lady!" Timmons yelled from the kitchen. "Lady, I can help him!"
"Shut up, Timmons!" Larabee shouted. "Shut up, or so help me I will kill you!" His green eyes locked on Grandma Brush's. "He's dying. What do we do?"
Vin cried out again, this time weakly, and collapsed back onto the bed.
Grandma Brush slipped her arm around Chris' shaking shoulders. "I don't know, son. I just don't know what else to do."
"Lady!"
"Stay with him," she instructed, before returning to the kitchen. "What the devil do you want? I've a mind to shoot ya myself for what you've done to that boy!"
"I can help him," Timmons repeated.
"You crazy, Timmons?" Dog demanded.
"Look," the bounty hunter continued, his gaze locked on the older woman's, "my father was a doctor, in Boston, I grew up helping him. I'm a doctor!"
Grandma Brush hesitated until she heard Chris' choked cry. "Damn it, Vin, don't you die on me you sonuvabitch!"
Laying the Mare's Leg down, Mrs. Brush took a knife from a drawer and cut Timmons free. He rose, following her into the bedroom.
Chris was cradling Vin in his arms again, rocking the man's limp body. "You stay the hell away from him," he growled at the bounty hunter, tears tracking down his face. "Haven't you done enough?"
Timmons ignored the comment, going to the bedside and holding out his hands. "Let me have him. Hurry."
Larabee's eyes blazed, one hand dropping toward his gun again.
"Do it, Chris," Grandma Brush snapped, breaking through the hatred that was consuming the gunslinger's soul. He looked at her. "Give Vin to him. Hurry, son, he's dyin'."
Chris looked down at the still form of his best friend, then let Timmons lift the tracker from his arms.
"Your trough?" the bounty hunter asked Mrs. Brush.
"Follow me," she said.
Larabee climbed off the bed, following the pair out of the house.
Grandma Brush trotted to one of the small corrals, swinging open the gate.
Timmons carried Vin to the full trough and, using his boot heel, broke through the thin layer of ice that had built up on the surface of the water, then lowered the unconscious man into the frigid liquid.
Vin whimpered and struggled weakly.
Chris lunged forward, but Grandma Brush caught his arm. "Let him work, son. He's the only chance Vin has."* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin fought viciously as he felt himself being drawn closer to a greater pain. Agony closed in around him like he was drowning and he clawed for the place he'd been in moments before – a place where there was no pain, no horror – but he was unable to stop the demanding pull that kept sucking him down into pure agony.
Finally, unable to fight any longer, he surrendered, falling back into the blinding torture of his own body.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Larabee stood, watching as Vin's chest arched so far back it looked like he might break in half. He froze there for a moment, then went completely limp.
"He dies and so help me, I'll kill 'em both," Chris swore through gritted teeth.
Grandma Brush met his gaze and shook her head. "No, you won't, son. You're not a cold-blooded killer. And you know that's not what Vin would want."
He began to shake, his knees giving out and dropping him into the snow. "Vin…" he moaned.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Ice sliced through the fire that had burned within him, hot and cold warring for his soul. Vin couldn't tell how long the battle lasted, only that strong arms were finally lifting him out of his own private hell. Had God changed his mind? Had he been saved from the Devil after all?
He managed to get his eyes open long enough to see an older man lowering him onto a bed. The pale red hair and dark shirt shifted under the tracker's unfocused vision.
"C-Chris?" he managed to gasp out.
"Easy, boy," Timmons said as he gently laid Tanner down. The bounty hunter pulled the quilts up and sighed heavily. "I don't know if that broke the fever, but at least we lowered it for the time being."
Larabee roughly shoved the man out of the way, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching out to cup Tanner's icy face in his palm. "Vin?"
The tracker's eyes fluttered weakly open again and he slowly focused on Chris. "Guess I… ain't dead… yet… huh?"
"No," Chris said, his throat tightening as his eyes filled with tears. "And you're not gonna die, either. You hear me?" You can't. I can't do this again. I can't lose you, Vin. Please… I can't.
"I… hear ya," the tracker breathed.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chris sat on the bed, watching Vin while he slept. The fever, now back to a manageable level, had finally allowed the tracker to rest.
Timmons stood by the fireplace in the bedroom, staring into the flames.
"Why?" Larabee asked quietly, without turning to face the man.
"Why what?"
"Why save his life now? You've been trying to kill him for a week."
Timmons hesitated, then cleared his throat and walked over to sit in the rocking chair. He draped one booted foot over his knee and began to rock. "Believe it or not, Mr. Larabee, six years ago I was just an ordinary doctor, working in Denver," he began.
Chris reached out, resting his hand on Vin's arm and gently rubbing up and down, needing the contact to keep his mind from spinning out of control with the fear and worry that lurked just beyond his fragile control.
"My wife had died two years earlier, but we had a son, Able. He was my world. I was so proud of that boy…" Timmons sighed, placing both feet on the floor and leaning forward, his elbows now on his knees. "He was about Tanner's age – early twenties – and he'd been back east for a while, studying medicine. He was coming to visit me… The train he was on was held up. He was killed trying to stop one of the robbers from soiling a young woman… She died a few days later as well."
Chris remained silent, considering the man's words even though he really didn't want to. He wanted to kill the man where he sat for all the pain he'd caused Vin.
"I went… I went crazy after that… started to drink. I eventually lost my practice… my friends. I hated any man I thought might have been the one who had killed Able. I hated outlaws, all outlaws – murderers, rapists, train robbers, gunfighters… I thought I could avenge my son's death by killing the men who might have been responsible for his death, so I started to hunt."
Larabee removed the damp cloth from Vin's forehead and placed it in the bowl of water. He turned on the bed to face Timmons. "Vin never murdered anyone. What I told you is the truth. Eli Joe – ever heard of him? – killed Jess Kincaid and pinned it on Vin to throw him off his trail."
"Yes, I've heard of Eli Joe," Timmons acknowledged, studying Larabee's eyes. "And I believe he's the kind of man who would do exactly what you said he did. But you have to understand, I couldn't allow myself to think about the men I hunted as human beings. I'd dedicated my life to helping men, not hurting them. I didn't come by it naturally, but I surrounded myself with others who did… others who hated more than I did… And I let their hate poison me." He stood and walked over so he could look down at Vin. "When I saw him lying there earlier, all I could see was Able… And I knew then that I was wrong."
"Wrong?"
"I'd assumed… I'd refused to think that anyone else could have honor… kindness."
"We're not outlaws," Chris said simply. "Not saints either. And I still don't like you, Timmons, but I do thank you for saving his life. I owe you for that much."
The man smiled thinly. "I don't blame you, Mr. Larabee. I don't like myself much right now either." He turned and headed for the kitchen. "It isn't over yet," he said from the doorway. "Toad will come back to look for Dog. They won't let five hundred dollars ride away – guilty or not."
Chris turned back to Vin. "We'll handle it."* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
There was a warm hand on his shoulder, and it was moving, rubbing the tension out of his aching muscles, sore from the fever and the bad dreams that had been haunting him.
"C-Chris?" he called weakly.
"Right here, pard," was the soft reply, and Vin felt the press of Larabee's forehead against his own. It sent a shiver of warmth racing through his body, chasing some of the pain away. He wasn't alone. Chris was there.
Just knowing that was true made his eyes fill. The tracker forced his heavy eyelids open and looked up at his friend, tears rolling down the sides of his temples. Chris was there.
Larabee pulled back so he could look down at him, and Vin realized for the first time just how beautiful the man was. He smiled weakly at the expression the man wore. "Hell, Chris… way yer… lookin' at me… might as well be that… Lazarus fella Josiah talks 'bout."
"Might as well be," Larabee agreed. "You rose from the dead yourself."
"How long?"
"Going on four days."
"Since I… got shot?"
"No," Chris said softly, his gaze dropping, "since you almost died. Timmons got your fever down, and it finally broke last night."
The tracker's eyes widened. "Timmons?"
"Seems he's changed his mind about you."
Vin looked dubious.
"Don't worry, I'm keepin' an eye on him, just in case he has another change of heart," Larabee assured him, anger and something else flashing through the man's eyes. "One of Mrs. Brush's daughters went to town and sent a telegraph to Four Corners. The others are on their way."
Grandma Brush appeared over Chris' shoulder, smiling down at the tracker. "Welcome back, son."
"'Preciate… all y'… done," he told her.
She reached out and tenderly patted his cheek. "Go on back to sleep, Vin. You need to rest. You're going to be just fine."
Tanner nodded, then looked back at Chris, asking a little sheepishly, "Y' gonna be here?"
Larabee nodded, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. For a long, long time, pard. He reached up, stroking back the tracker's lank chestnut hair. "I'll be right here. You sleep."
Nodding once and closing his eyes, Vin slipped back to the healing embrace of sleep.
"Never seen a man trust someone so much," the older woman said.
"It's mutual," Chris replied simply.
"That's a gift, son. Treasure it."
I do, he thought. More than I ever imagined.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Vin lay in bed, listening to the rhythmic ring of an axe meeting wood. He knew Chris was outside, increasing Grandma Brush's winter woodpile. Three days had passed since his fever had broken and he was finally getting restless. He wanted to be out there, watching Chris, even if he wasn't up to helping him just yet. Seemed like he couldn't get enough of that the past few days, why, just being able to lie there and watch the man made his heart feel like it was full to bursting.
He wasn't sure what had come over him, and he didn't really care. He just wanted to be with Chris. To hear him talk, to feel his presence close by, to enjoy the comfort of his touch as he helped him to sit up, or use the chamber pot.
Hell, he ought to have been ashamed by that particular need, but he wasn't. He knew Chris didn't care, he just wanted to help, to make it easier for him. And, Vin knew, if things had been reversed, he'd have felt the same.
But that couldn't be said of anyone else.
No, what he and Larabee shared, it was… special. One of a kind. At least he thought it was. Surely Chris would have felt the same about his wife, and his son. So maybe it was just the way family felt. He'd have helped any of the others, if they'd needed him. But it still felt different with Chris.
He had brothers now, five of them, and he knew it, but what did that make Larabee? What meant more than a brother? Family?
A wife, maybe? But Chris was no wife.
A child? Perhaps, but he didn't feel like Chris looked at him like a son, and he sure as hell didn't see Larabee as a father. Josiah, sometimes, but never Chris.
It made no sense. There was nothing else.
There were Indian words, but he didn't think they would work for a white man. Still, he kept pondering, trying to find a way to explain it, but it remained just outside the reach of his understanding…
He sighed and wished Chris would finish and come back inside. Grandma Brush's husband, sons, and grandsons were home now, and there had been names and faces to put together for a couple of days, but he'd gotten them all straight. Lani had been the easiest one. He sighed and closed his eyes. Now there was a reason to consider settling down and becoming a farmer.
Twenty-two, with long chestnut hair, gray eyes and a wild streak that Vin found irresistible, she had captured his attention immediately. Lani was a rebel, riding with her brothers, roping, shooting and generally upsetting the natural order of things wherever she went, including the kitchen.
Vin grinned; a reason indeed. But even she paled by comparison when Chris was in the room. Besides, she was already spoken for and he silently wished her husband the best of luck; he was definitely going to need all he could get.
Things were good here, he thought. It was the kind of community the folks in Four Corners were trying to build. And, given time, it was the kind of community they would eventually have. He wasn't sure he'd feel like he belonged there any more when that came to pass, but he knew he'd be happy for them if they were able to see their dreams come true.
He was getting soft. Hell, he'd even been glad when he'd heard that Timmons had decided to stay on after his men had been escorted out of the Territory. With Doc Harbor still gone, the former bounty hunter had taken it upon himself to act as Paradise's resident physician until the man returned. And he'd been kept busy, too, delivering two babies, setting a broken leg and treating a bruised skull when Mrs. Peters applied her skillet to Mr. Peters' head.
The hypnotic ring of the ax stopped and Vin opened his eyes, listening while Chris exchanged a few words with someone. Then the sound of boots echoed thorough the house and Vin felt his heart swell at the thought of Chris coming to join him. But it was Timmons who entered the bedroom.
"Mornin'," the tracker greeted, still a little wary of the man.
"Morning," Timmons returned, walking over to stand next to the fireplace. Pulling off his riding gloves, he thrust his hands closer to the flames to warm them. "It's coolin' off a bit."
Vin's brow furrowed. "Been coolin' off fer some time now. Y' come out here just t' tell me 'bout the weather?"
Timmons shook his head. "I've been watching the comings and goings in town," he said, his back still turned.
"And?"
"I think Dog and Toad are back." He crossed to the rocker and sank down into it. "Your friends should be here in a couple of days. You might want to think about leaving as soon as you can."
Vin nodded. "Already planned on it."
The big man looked away for a moment, collecting his thoughts, then he looked back at Tanner. "I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about what happened," he added. "You and your friend… you've given me back my life. Isn't really a way to thank a man for that."
"Y' did that yerself," Vin replied. "'M sorry 'bout yer son, too. Jist hope I c'n clear m' name one day."
"I'd be happy to help you track Eli Joe down, if you want."
"He's dead," Vin said flatly.
"Damn," Timmons said. "That's going to make it a mite harder to clear yourself."
"Yep. Been tryin' t' find Eli Joe's half-brother, Zeb Harper. He and his two cousin's rode with 'im. They must've been with 'im when he killed that farmer. If I c'n find 'em, maybe I c'n still clear m' name."
"I'll see what I can find out for you. It's the least I can do, given the circumstances. And I honestly would like to make this up to you in some small way, if I can."
"Obliged," Vin replied. "Y' know where t' find me."
Timmons nodded. "Four Corners. I might even deliver the news in person, if I can find out anything."
Vin thought for a moment, then asked, "Y' mean what y' said? Y' really want t' make this up t' me?"
"Yes, I do," Timmons replied sincerely.
"Got a friend in Four Corners, he's a healer, but he's got a lotta questions only a real doctor c'n answer. Y' spend some time with him, answer his questions, show him what he needs t' know, an' that'll square us."
Timmons' eyes rounded slightly. It was such a simple request, but it obviously meant a lot to Tanner. "I'd be happy to do that. Certainly," he said. "In fact, I'll ride back with you, if you'd like."
"Guess that depends on if y' c'n get away. These folks already come t' depend on ya."
Timmons nodded. "I think I might come back here. It's a fine community, and they need a doctor here year 'round, but I want to set things right between us, too. I need to, Vin."
"Then yer welcome t' ride along."
Timmons stood and stepped up to the side of the bed. Sticking out his hand, he was grateful when the tracker didn't hesitate to take it. "Thank you, Vin."
The tracker offered him a small grin. "Hell, I'll get m' revenge after all. Y' got no idea how many questions Nathan c'n come up with."
Tanner looked past Timmons as Chris came into the room carrying two cups of coffee. Timmons gave Vin and nod and headed out.
Chris sat down on the edge of the bed and handed Vin one of the cups. "How you feeling today?"
"Like I'm gonna go stir crazy if'n I can't get up out 'a this bed."
Larabee smiled. "Fine, but you're only going as far as the rockin' chair, or maybe the kitchen if you're hungry."
Vin glowered up at the man, but he didn't argue. It felt too good, just having the man sitting there beside him. Without realizing it, he reached out with his free hand, resting it on Larabee's leg, the contact making both of them feel better.
Chris leaned back against the headboard, his shoulder pressed up against Tanner's, and sipped on his coffee.
"Timmons' says the weather's takin' a turn."
Larabee nodded. "Figure it's probably gonna snow tonight."
"That's gonna slow the boys down some."
Another nod. "Ain't like we have someplace we've gotta be."
Vin allowed himself to lean into Chris, resting his head against the man's arm. "Think maybe y' could read some more 'a that book?"
Chris smiled down at him. "Thought you wanted to get out of that bed?"
Not when yer sittin' here like this. I'll stay in bed all the damn day. "Maybe later."
Reaching over to set his coffee down and grab the book off the bedside table, he opened it to where he'd stopped yesterday and began to read again.
Beside him, Vin closed his eyes and, still holding on to Chris' leg, allowed the words to spin pictures in his mind while he listened to the sound of the voice he'd come to cherish above all others.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
A few days later, Chris and Vin said goodbye to Grandma Brush and her family, climbed onto their horses, and turned them toward home. Buck and Josiah were there to escort them, keeping a close watch for the two brothers.
Al Timmons also rode along with them as well, but he had promised Mrs. Brush that he'd be back as soon as he'd spent some time with Vin's friend, answering whatever questions he might have.
That first night on the trail they stopped in small stand of trees, the ground beneath them mostly free of snow. Timmons had Vin lay down so he could check his wounds, but they were both still healing well, the ride apparently doing no damage to the man.
"You feel all right?" the physician asked him.
Vin nodded. "Feel fine, Doc."
Timmons nodded with satisfaction and smiled. "Looks like you'll be able to make this trip just fine – we keep it slow and easy."
The tracker grinned. "Could 'a told y' that, saved y' all this work, if y'd asked."
The older man smiled and shook his head. "I look forward to meeting another one of your interesting friends." And with that he moved off to lay out his bedroll.
Josiah continued to work near the fire he'd built, fixing supper for them while Chris tended to the horses.
Vin leaned back against his saddle, which was propped up against a fallen tree trunk and allowed himself to enjoy the crisp night air, the stars, and the warmth of the fire and the good friends around him. All in all, he was glad to be alive, still slightly giddy about it, if the truth be told. He looked up when Buck approached through the trees and sat down next to him on the fallen trunk.
"No signs of anyone doggin' us. How're ya feelin', stud?" Wilmington asked him.
"Good," Vin replied softly, hoping Buck didn't plan to look him over the way Timmons had; he might just have to hurt the ladies' man if he tried.
"I, uh… Well, I just wanted ta tell ya…" Buck trailed off, glancing around to ensure that they were alone and he wouldn't be overheard. He dropped his voice as he continued. "I just wanted to say I was glad ya pulled through this, Vin. Hear it was pretty bad there for a while."
Vin's eyes rounded slightly. "Reckon so," he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Hell, Bucklin, didn't know y' cared so much…"
Buck started to reply, but blushed fiercely. He glanced away, cursing softly under his breath. When he looked back he was grinning with honest amusement. "I meant I'm glad for Chris' sake," he clarified. "I'd hate for him to lose someone else he cares about."
"Think he might be stronger 'n you're sayin'."
"Maybe," Buck agreed. "But I saw what he was like after Sarah and Adam died, and I know he thinks on you like family. No man should have to lose that much in his life, so I'm real glad you're too damned ornery ta die, Vin Tanner. And next time? Be a little more careful, will ya?"
Vin dipped his head, his own cheeks coloring. "Yeah, I'll do that."
"I'd appreciate it." And with that Buck stood and patted Vin's shoulder with brotherly affection, then he walked over to join Josiah at the fire.
"Hey, Chris!" Wilmington called. "It's suppertime!"
"Comin'," was the man's reply.
Vin watched Larabee step into the circle of light cast by the fire, the gunslinger's gaze immediately seeking him out. That sent a thrill of some kind coursing through Tanner's blood, making his heart beat just a little quicker.
Chris flashed the tracker a half-worried, half-questioning look and Vin nodded in reply, letting the man know that he was well. He watched as Larabee immediately relaxed.
Family… That's got a nice ring t' it, the tracker thought as he carefully pushed himself up and walked over to join the others around the fire. But it's more 'n that, when it comes t' Chris. Hell if I know what, though.
Chris made a space for him to sit down and Vin did, accepting a plate from Josiah and digging in as soon as he was settled.
Later, as the men made ready to bed down, Chris opened his bedroll and laid it out down next to Vin's. He's plannin' t' keep me warm, the tracker thought, when he saw he'd be sleeping between the fire and Larabee.
The four healthy men would also be taking turns, standing watch during the night just in case Dog and Toad were trailing them, but Vin had a feeling the brothers were already gone. They had no desire to take on five armed men, head to head, not even for five hundred dollars.
"You still feeling all right?" Chris asked him.
"Yup," Vin replied, finding a reasonably comfortable position. He listened to Chris making ready, and then felt the man's presence behind him. More than anything he wished he could shift back and press his back up against Larabee's chest, to feel the man's arm circle around him, holding him close. He never felt safer than when he was being held in those arms… never felt more loved, either.
Maybe there was a touch of father and son in their relationship after all. But he dismissed that thought immediately. It was more like what he suspected Chris felt when he'd pulled Sarah close…
Tanner's eyes blinked open with surprise. Chris had scooted closer, his body in the same position as Vin's own, close, but not touching. So close…
Vin shifted under his blankets, inching closer to the man, their bodies touching slightly in a few places, separated by the blankets between them. It's just fer the warmth, he told himself, but he knew it was a lie. He just wanted to be as close to Chris as he could possibly get.
"You cold?" Larabee asked him quietly.
"Reckon a little," he replied and felt the man behind him move. A moment later a burst of cold air rushed in under his blankets as they were lifted up. He gasped softly. The blankets were lowered again, heavier now that Larabee's had been added to his own, and Chris settled in behind him, his body spooning up against his, warmth reaching him even through the man's clothes. He shivered in delight.
"You'll warm up in no time," Chris assured him, his arm slipping over Tanner's chest to pull the man in tighter. "Get some sleep."
Vin could only nod, too lost in the joy of being held to speak. He snuggled into the warmth and the embrace, feeling light and safe and happy. He sighed deeply, his body relaxing. He'd give damn near anything to be able to fall asleep like this every night. Hell, it was no wonder Buck found his way into some woman's bed nearly every night, not if it felt like this…* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Chris heard the deep sigh and felt Tanner's muscles go slack as he drifted into sleep.
God it felt good, holding him like this. The rise and fall of his chest reassured him that the tracker lived, that he really had survived. He closed his eyes, letting the sounds of Tanner's soft breaths lull him closer to sleep. His thumb stroked back and forth across the soft material of Vin's shirt.
He didn't understand why this felt so good to him, so right. But it did, and for right now, that was all that mattered.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
It took several more days before they finally reached the trail into Four Corners. They had traveled slowly, Timmons making sure Vin took several breaks each day to rest and to eat. And, each night, Chris had slept with him, holding him close and keeping him warm, even after they had left the snows behind them. The desert was still cold at night this time of year, and Larabee had said he didn't want to take any chances of Vin catching a chill. Vin didn't care, it was a reason for Chris to keep sharing blankets his with the tracker. And no one seemed to think it strange either. But then Vin was thin, and still a little pale. He was weak, too, even if he wouldn't admit it. He tired too quickly and had to eat several times a day to keep up what strength he did have.
When they reached the fork in the trail that lead to his cabin, Chris pulled up, saying, "Vin's lookin' worse; I'm gonna take him to the cabin. Have Nathan come out tomorrow to look him over."
"Good idea," Timmons said. "He is looking a little too pale for my liking."
"Feel fine, boys," the tracker grumbled. "An' m' ears are workin' like usual."
"I'll ride out with Nathan tomorrow," Timmons said, ignoring Tanner's remarks.
Chris nodded. "Appreciate it, Doc."
"You want one of us to come along, too?" Buck asked the gunslinger.
Larabee shook his head. "If they haven't tried by now, they're not going to."
"I'd still feel better if one of us stayed with you tonight," Josiah replied. "I'll go and bunk down in the barn, just in case."
Chris thought for a moment and then he nodded. "Suit yourself."
The men split up, Buck taking Timmons on into town, Chris, Vin and Josiah heading for the small cabin.
Before they had gotten too far, a light drizzle began to fall.
"Damn it," Larabee breathed, glancing over at Vin, who was hunched up inside his hide coat, trying to stay as dry as possible.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
When they arrived at Chris' cabin, Josiah and Larabee made a careful search to ensure that the brothers hadn't followed them, or somehow found the cabin on their own. When they were satisfied that there was no threat, they helped Vin off his horse and into the cabin.
"Get out of those damp clothes," Chris told the tracker, helping him with the hide coat.
"I'll get him undressed," Josiah offered. "You have something he can put on?"
Larabee nodded and went over to a small chest of drawers, pulling out a spare pair of long johns, pants, and a dark red shirt that was the thickest he had.
Vin took one look at the attire and shook his head. "Just give be that wool blanket and I'll sit by the stove 'til m' clothes are dry."
"There's nothing wrong with these clothes," Chris argued.
Tanner grinned at him. "Black ain't m' color, pard."
Larabee snorted and shook his head. "All right, but put the long johns on or you'll freeze your balls off."
Vin accepted the long underwear and pulled them on. Josiah draped the blanket around his shoulders and moved the rocker closer to the woodstove so he could sit.
Vin rocked himself, watching while the other two men prepared a small meal, which they ate in companionable silence. He caught himself nodding off a couple of times, but more of the strong coffee Josiah fixed seemed to help.
As the pale winter light began to fade, Josiah stood and stretched. "Think I'll go make up my bed while I can still see," he told them.
"You're welcome to stay in here," Chris replied. "Be a lot warmer."
The big man shrugged. "Warm enough in a pile of hay. Besides, if we do get company, it might be nice if we could catch them between us."
Larabee nodded. "Appreciate it, Josiah."
"Get him to bed before he falls asleep in that chair."
Chris grinned when Vin flashed the big man a sleepy glare. "He's right," he old the tracker, "you're damn near sound asleep right now, and I'm not going to get up in the middle of the night if tip that chair over, so get in to bed."
Muttering under his breath, Vin pushed to his feet and shuffled off to Larabee's bed, transferring the blanket from his shoulder to the top of the ones already there and climbing in, hoping Chris would join him. A few minutes later, the blond did just that, sliding in behind him and pulling him close, as had become their habit.
"Mmm," Vin breathed, making himself comfortable in the warm embrace.
"You feeling okay?" Chris whispered.
"Yeah…"
"Good. Now, get some rest."
Vin's eyes dropped closed and smiled faintly as he felt Chris' thumb begin to rub up and down on his chest. He wished he wasn't the long johns, wondering what it might feel like to have the man touching his skin.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Some time in the night Vin awoke. He started to move, which woke Larabee as well.
"Vin? You all right?"
"Just need to use the privy," the tracker said, easing from the bed and heading for the door. He was back quickly, teeth chattering slightly as he crawled back into the bed. Chris had rolled over, so he slid up behind the man, spooning against him and holding him the way Larabee had done for him.
The blond moaned contentedly and wiggled back into Tanner's embrace.
Vin grinned and rested his cheek against the man's shoulder. His arm snaked over the blond's side, his hand pressed flat against the man's ribs, fingers curled slightly to fit the curve of Chris' side. He closed his eyes, basking in the feel of holding the man.
He had seen two men lying like this once before. It had been a hot summer, and he was living among the Comanche. It was after the war, after the hellish days in a prisoner of war camp. He'd left that camp alone, without a place he needed or wanted to be. He'd drifted, finally crossing trails with a tribe of Comanche he'd met when he'd been a child among the Kiowa. Lucky for him, the old chief remembered him.
He'd settled into their ways quickly and earned himself a Comanche name, Long Eyes, for his almost uncanny skills with a rifle. It had taken some time, but he eventually been welcomed among the warriors.
That night they'd been on the trail of some game, the heat of the day had finally given way to the coolness of night, and he'd welcomed his turn on guard. But as he'd sat there, listening for their enemy, his eyes had been drawn to the two men who were lying spooned up together. In the soft glow of the embers from their fire he could see Black Wing was aroused, even though he was sleeping.
Something about that excited him, and he'd reached into his breechclout and stroked himself until he was a hard as the warrior. He watched as a drop began to form at the tip. It glowed orange and red from the light of the fire, and he realized that Heavy Hoof was awake as well.
He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing there behind Black Wing, but he knew whatever it was, it must feel awful good, because the young man's cock was jerking of its own accord. Heavy Hoof reached over the Black Wings body, his big hand closing around that twitching member…
Vin moaned softly, remembering clearly how Heavy Hoof had spread the fluid that leaked from Black Wing's cock along the thick shaft so his hand could slide up and down the heated flesh. And His hand had kept time with the warrior's as he pleasured himself as he watched.
He could see Heavy Hoof humping against Black Wing's ass and realized that he must be grinding his cock against the other man's flesh. After a few more moments, he heard Heavy Hoof grunt, his body jerking harder. But then his attention was pulled back to Black Wing's cock and he watched as the man began to spill his seed, glowing spurts of it, shooting from the tip into the dirt beyond here they lay. He had filled his breechclout with his own seed as he'd watched Black Wing spilling his.
He had made it a point to travel with the two warriors after that, and he had seen them together several times as a result. And, every time he had, he'd pleasured himself, wondering what it must feel like to them, to have someone to share themselves with like that. It was so different than what he'd seen and experienced at the orphanage, or in the POW camp. This was right and pure, beautiful and arousing to witness. He longed to join them, but knew they saw no farther than one another.
When the Army finally came, and Heavy Hoof and Black Wing had been killed, along with so many of the others, and he'd known he'd never see the likes of their relationship again.
And he'd been right. Oh, he'd seen what passed for mutual release among the buffalo hunters and the cowboys, but it wasn't the same. It was furtive and quick, a fuck in the darkness to ease the ache in their balls. There was none of the care, the attention the two warriors had showered upon each other. There was none of the love.
And he knew, now, that it was love. It was the same love a man had for his wife.
He sighed softly and pressed his cheek harder against Chris' shoulder, his own balls aching with want and need for the gunslinger. But it wasn't the white man's way. To them it was a sin, something dirty and evil. But he knew it didn't have to be. He'd seen what it could be like.
Damn. Damn Timmon's to hell. If it hadn't been for the man shooting him like he had, he wouldn't have come to know what it felt like to be held in Larabee's arms. He wouldn't know the joy of feeling the tickle of the man's breath on the back of his neck, or tingle that spread through his body when the man's thumb stroked up and down on his chest, sometimes grazing his hard, nipple.
He was a fool if he thought he could share the kind of love Heavy Hoof and Black Wing shared all those years ago. A damn fool, and that hurt worse than those bullets had when they'd pierced his flesh.* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Awareness returned gradually, like the first soft glow of a sunrise giving way to fingers of gold and pink. He felt warm, and safe, and… happy. How long had it been since he'd been happy? Since that day when the sight of his burned out homestead had opened a pit inside his heart that had nearly pulled him into the blackness…
Too long. Far too long.
Slowly he became aware of Vin, pressed up behind him, holding him like he had been holding the tracker so many times in recent nights. He hadn't realized how good it might feel, to be held like that and he hoped that Tanner had enjoyed it, at least half as much as he was right now.
Somehow he'd always thought of Vin as smaller then he was, but that really wasn't true. They were almost a matched team in height and build, but those too big clothes the tracker wore hide that fact, made him seem slighter. But now he could feel the muscle under the man's skin, even through the pair of long underwear. They were a perfect fit. He'd thought so the very first time he'd held the man.
He could feel the soft brush of Vin's breath against his shoulder, each one warming the material of his long johns slightly. He could feel the slight poke of the man's whiskers though the material where his cheek was pressed against his shoulder blade. They both needed a shave.
The possessive curl of the tracker's fingers along his side surprised him and the sudden image of Vin holding some saloon whore the same way sent a bolt of jealously through him. He didn't want the tracker holding anyone but him.
He marveled at how well he fit inside the curve of the man. His breath caught. Oh God, he thought, realizing what that fullness pressed against his ass meant.
He focused on that, nothing the length and girth, and wondering if it might not grow even larger if fully aroused. But even piss proud it was impressive.
Their feet were entwined, one of his caught between Vin's.
He heard the tracker moan softly, and his hand began to move, rubbing along his ribs. His own member began to stir, slowly swelling as the tracker's hand kneaded his flesh. If only it was a little lower, the man's fingers curled around his flesh…
The thought startled him. But not nearly as much as the sudden realization that Vin was crying, the warm tears soaking into the material of his long johns. Why would the man be crying?
"Vin?" he called softy and felt the tracker jerk with surprise and quickly pull away, rolling onto his side so they were back to back.
Chris frowned and carefully maneuvered himself around so he was pressed up behind Vin, holding him as Tanner had just been holding him. "Vin, what's wrong? Are you in pain?"
There was a short, derisive snort. "Ain't nothin'."
Like hell, he thought. "Vin, tell me what's wrong. I'll send Josiah to town for Nathan and the doc–"
"No," Tanner yelped, but the word came up sounded strangled, like the man's throat was too tight for him to speak.
"Then tell me what's wrong."
"Dream," Vin ground out, "just a damn dream."
Larabee pushed himself up onto his elbow so he could look down at Tanner's face, but the long curly hair hid his expression. "Dream about what?"
"Don't matter," was the whispered reply. "'S a long time ago… 'nother life."
He wasn't sure he believed the man, but Chris settled down behind him again and pulled him close. "C'mere," he said, trying to get the tracker to relax against him.
"Reckon we better be gettin' up."
"Like hell," Larabee growled. "Got a good two hours before the sun's up."
Tanner mumbled something in reply, but Chris wasn't paying any attention to that. He was focused on his body and how he was responding to feel of his cock pressed us against the crack of his best friend's ass. It felt good, right…
He felt Vin try and wiggle away from that touch, heard the man's soft, aching groan, too. So he pressed himself against the tracker's ass.
There was a soft hiss, followed by, "What the hell d'ya think yer doin', Lar'bee?"
"What you wanted me to do," he ventured in reply, his heart suddenly racing. If he was wrong…
A softly uttered curse was his reply.
"Vin?" he questioned. "That is what you wanted me to do, isn't it?"
Another curse, this one louder and more vehement. "What the hell d'ya want me t' say?"
"Tell me the truth," he replied, his hand beginning to rub up and down the tracker's chest.
"Ain't right," he choked out. "Ain't proper fer white men."
"Never been called proper," he said a little airily as his fingertips found the hard nub of Tanner's nipple. He rubbed over it several times, listening to the hitch it caused in Tanner's breath. The man's body convulsed each time he flicked his thumb over the pebbly hard flesh and he felt his own arousal grow, filling his cock.
"You feel me?" he whispered into Tanner's ear. "Might not be proper, but you do this to me."
"Ain't right, Chris, not fer you."
"But it is for you?" he asked, his hand dropping down, his fingers curling around the cloth-covered erection hidden inside Tanner's underwear.
Vin gasped, then moaned softly, the sound as close to a whimper as Larabee figured a man could come.
"Lived with the Indians," the tracker managed to rasp. "Got different ways."
"What kind of ways?" he asked, his fingers curling tighter on the swelling shaft.
"Different way 'a livin'… an' lovin'."
"Tell me," Larabee commanded, dipping his head to bury his face in the warm chestnut curls.
Vin let go a long whine as he tried to still his hips, but they were pressing him more tightly into Larabee's grasp, trying to friction himself in that hot grasp.
"Tell me," he repeated, nuzzling at the man's neck. It was rough with whiskers, but he didn't care. His tongue darted out and he licked the man's skin, wondering what he would taste like.
A half-choked gasp was the response. "Sometime the warriors… sometimes they'd lie with one 'nother," he rasped out.
"Mmm," Larabee replied like that wasn't news to him. He was grinding himself against Tanner's ass, mashing the spongy head of his cock against the strong muscles he felt contracting.
"Chris," the tracker moaned, "y' gotta stop."
"Don't wanta stop," he said, knowing it was true. He knew too, somewhere, that folks would say this was wrong, but he just didn't care. It felt good, right. It felt more right than anything had since the day he'd discovered he was a widower. And he'd come so close to losing Vin, to losing the one who filled up his world with meaning–
He froze, but it was already too late. The truth was right there, in his arms. He loved Vin. He loved the man just like he'd loved Sarah. He wasn't sure how that was possible, but it was true and he couldn't deny it, not now, not ever.
And with that knowledge, that understanding of what lie between them, he let go of the fear and the pain that had haunted him for so long. He found that part of himself that loved, a part he had been sure had died the same day as Sarah and Adam. But it hadn't died. It had only been buried under the weight of guilt and grief that had nearly smothered the life right out of him.
Until the day he'd seen Vin for the first time. He'd never forget that day, that moment, when their eyes met for the first time. It had felt like he'd found some missing part of his soul. It had confused him at first, but there hadn't been a lot time to think about it. Not until they'd been sitting on that ridge, Tanner telling him about the bounty on his head. And he'd pushed it away, letting himself get lost in the blue of the man's eyes, the soft, raspy sound of his voice… He'd known that day he couldn't lose what he'd found. He couldn't let Tanner go back to Tascosa alone. He'd ride with him, take whatever time the good Lord gave them, and count himself luck to have had that.
But now he knew there was so much more then could be sharing. So much more he wanted to share with the man – life, home… love.
He wasn't sure how to love the man, but he knew they'd find a way. His hand had found its way inside the long johns, his fingers curing around the man's hard shaft, moving up and down over the velvety soft skin. Vin was leaking, making it easier for him to slide his hand over the man's flesh. And he ground himself harder against the tracker's ass, lost in the pleasures he felt.
"Chris!" Tanner gasped, his body beginning to quake.
And as the first rush of Tanner's seed spilled over his fingers Chris felt his own cock begin to erupt, soaking the material of his underwear.
They grunted and jerked, moaned and whimpered, gasped and panted, waiting to catch their breaths as their bodies spiraled back from whatever paradise they had found.
They held on to one another, touching and stroking… loving in the lingering afterglow of their mutual release.
Long johns were removed and they explored each other, Larabee initiating the first kiss, nearly coming again when he tasted the tracker's mouth. They moved in unison, no words passing between them, each knowing what the other needed somehow.
They came again, together, carried to the edge and beyond by nothing more than each other's touch.
But this time, as they lay together, they each knew this would be how it was from now on. There would be no turning back.
"Won't be easy," Vin whispered softly as the cabin began to fill with the gray light of dawn.
"Nothing really is."
"'Cept this," Tanner replied, reaching down to cup Chris' flaccid cock.
"Except love," Larabee corrected him, his voice thick with emotions he never thought to feel again. "Loving Sarah… loving you… hell, that's the easiest thing I've ever done."
Vin smiled at the words and snuggled closer to the man. "Easy as lickin' butter off a knife," he agreed.
Easy or hard, it didn't matter. They were together, and together they could accomplish anything, of that they were both sure.The End
Author's Second Note: The gen version of this story first appeared in the Mag 7 zine, Let's Ride #2, published by Neon RainBow Press, Cinda Gillilan and Jody Norman, editors. When we all decided to post the stories that have appeared in the issues of Seven Card Stud that are more than two years old, we opted to use a generic pen name because, while Michelle Fortado and Lorin Zane is the primary authors of this story, they had so much help from the other folks writing for the press that it just made sense to consider the story to be written by the Neon RainBow Press Collective! Resistance was futile. So, thanks to the whole Neon Gang – Dori Adams, Sierra Chaves, Dana Ely, Michelle Fortado, Patricia Grace, Dani Martin, Erica Michaels, Nina Talbot, Kasey Tucker, Rebecca Wright, and Lorin and Mary Fallon Zane. Story lasted edited 3-8-2007. Art by Shiloh (shigal13@excite.com)