THREE
The foyer was in darkness, apart from a lamp turned low. He crossed to Vin’s room and eased open the door. His plan was simple. He intended to quickly render his victim unconscious, before binding and gagging him.He moved quickly towards the bed and actually stumbled over Vin’s prone body. The tracker groaned, but did not wake.
Unable to believe his luck in finding Vin already unconscious, Hudson pushed the door shut behind him and then reached for his victim and lifted him onto the bed.
Then he checked the curtains were closed before fumbling to light the lamp by the bed. Finally he looked greedily down at Vin. The lithe, nude body was as beautiful as he had imagined and he felt himself growing hard as his various fantasies began to rush into his mind. But now was not the time or place. There would be plenty of time to indulge himself later.
He swiftly gagged Vin and then briefly pondered how to tie him. Vin’s right arm was tightly bound to his body, so as a temporary measure, he simply tied his left wrist to his right and then ran the rope several times around his arms and upper body. Then he bound Vin’s ankles. Once that was done, he dragged one of the grey blankets off the bed and enveloped his victim in it. This was not because of the cold, but rather least anyone should spot his pale burden.
In the event, nobody was on the street and Hudson was soon moving through the alley, Vin slung over one shoulder. ‘Lucky he’s so light,’ he thought. ‘It’ll be no sweat getting him to the wagon.”
The five miles to his ranch passed swiftly as Hudson drove happily along imagining all the things he could, and would, do to Vin.
The tracker roused during the journey. He was groggy and completely confused as to what was going on. The blanket had slipped from his body and he was freezing. He tried to reach for it and realised his hands were bound. Surely, Chris had not left him tied down naked, but perhaps he had been mad enough to do that.
But why the hell was the bed moving? The bed? What bed? He was in a fuckin' wagon! Where could Chris be taking him? He tried to ask, but the gag prevented any sound. What could Chris be thinking of?
He tried to sit up and Hudson heard him move and turned. “Gettin’ impatient, are ya? Don’t worry, boy, we’re not far from my place now and once we’re there we’ll have lotsa fun.”
Vin’s blood went cold as he recognized the voice. The monster of his nightmares had him and he was as frightened as he had ever been in his not uneventful life. His thoughts whirled as he tried to think of a way to escape. It would have been difficult enough bound as he was had he been uninjured and well, but as he was he just felt dreadful and could find no way to free himself. His arm and shoulder were aching fiercely and his body was numb with cold.
He tried desperately to wriggle free of his bonds, but all he did was hurt himself more. However, being Vin, he was still struggling when they reached the ranch.
All was in darkness. Hudson’s four ranch-hands had retired to the bunkhouse, some distance from the main house, for the night.
Hudson tied the horse to the hitching rail and then scooped Vin up as though he was weightless. To his acute embarrassment, Vin found himself naked in his assailant’s arms. Strong hands held him tightly, making his struggles fruitless.
Hudson pushed open the front door and carried Vin through the house to a back bedroom.
He dropped his reluctant burden into the middle of a large four-poster bed. The tracker immediately tried to scrabble off, but a large hand on his chest forced him back down. Then Hudson climbed astride Vin’s hips pinning him with his greater weight. He toyed briefly with Vin’s hair, twisting it around his fingers and enjoying his victim’s ineffective attempts to squirm free.
Drawing his sheath knife, he cut the bandages that secured Vin’s broken arm to his chest, flung them aside, and dragged his already bound wrists above his head. He then scrambled awkwardly from the bed, while keeping Vin’s wrists pinned in position with one large hand. Then he yanked them up further and secured them to the headboard. Sharp pains shot through Vin’s injured arm at this rough treatment, but his gag muffled any complaint he might have made.
Now that the bandages were gone, Hudson’s greedy eyes wandered over Vin’s smooth chest to the small, brown nipples. He reached out rough hands to seize these, pinching and twisting, while Vin writhed helpless to avoid the torment.
Hudson flipped the helpless tracker onto his stomach, dragged Vin’s legs painfully wide and secured an ankle to each foot post.
“Right, now yer nice and comfy, I’ll just see to the horse. I can’t have anyone thinkin’ somethin’ odd is goin’ on’,” Hudson announced. “But don’t ya worry none, pretty boy, I’ll be back to tend to ya soon.”
Vin lay there white-faced with pain and fear. He tried a tentative pull on the rope binding his wrists, but red-hot pain shot down his injured arm and he would have cried out, but for the restraining gag. However, he knew he just had to get free so he continued to struggle in spite of the pain, but it was hopeless.
Some minutes later, he heard the front door shut and heavy footsteps approaching. The tread recalled the nightmare that had driven Vin onto the streets of Four Corners and had led to his unfortunate encounter with Chris. He tried desperately to fight back the terror that threatened to overwhelm him.
Hudson swept gleefully into the room. After all those weeks, he finally had the lithe tracker exactly where he wanted him, bound spread-eagled, helpless and naked in his bed. He was going to enjoy this.
He reached for the gag and removed it. Hearing Vin’s reaction was going to be part of the fun. Then he stood back and surveyed his victim. His hungry gaze immediately fell on the angry, red marks marring the creamy buttocks. His eyes glinted and he smiled lasciviously. “Well, now who’s been spanking you?” he purred.
As he spoke, he ran a finger down Vin’s cleft. Terrified, the tracker tried to sink through the mattress, but there was no escape. Grinning at the reaction his words and touch had caused, Hudson continued, “I approve, of course, but I’d rather do it myself … and I will. However, first things first. I’m gonna fuck ya good and hard, boy.”
His stroking finger moved back to Vin’s anus and pushed inside.
Vin gasped. The pain was slight, but the fear was not. “Don’t ya want this, Vin?” Hudson asked, in a voice of insincere concern. “I’m sure a pretty boy like ya are must be used to men reaming him out, though I must say yer a damn sight tighter than I thought ya’d be,” he added conversationally, as he inserted another finger.
Vin winced and willed himself to keep quiet. He wanted to beg, but knew that would only add to Hudson’s enjoyment of the situation.
’Yer not a virgin are ya, boy?”
No reply.
Hudson gave a sudden thrust with the invading fingers. “Are ya?”
Vin bit down on the sheet and clenched his teeth.
“Not talkin’ to me, Vin? Keepin’ quiet? Ya were always one for that, but not for long. You’ll be screamin’ yer pretty head off by the time I’ve finished with ya.” He withdrew the two fingers and then plunged them back in in the company of a third.
Vin bucked, but the ropes held tight allowing little movement.
“Gettin’ all excited, Vin? I guess I’d better do somethin’ about that.”
He withdrew the offending digits and unbuttoned his fly. Then he freed his organ and moved to the head of the bed. “Look what I’ve got for ya, Vin,” he said. Vin kept his head down, but a large hand grabbed his long hair and forced his head around to see Hudson’s erection. “Bit bigger’n what ya have enjoyed from Larabee and the others, ain’t it?” Hudson gloated.
He moved away and then Vin felt the bed sink as he clambered on and placed himself between the tracker’s slender thighs. “Ready, boy?”
Vin was terrified. His body was tense with fear. The pain when it came was even worse than he had imagined. In one quick thrust, Hudson had sheathed himself and Vin screamed in agony.
The rancher laughed at his distress and began to thrust hard.
The world took on a nightmare quality, as Vin felt pain such as he had never known. Mercifully, he fainted after only a few minutes of Hudson’s tender ministrations.
When his senses returned, Hudson had withdrawn and was standing looking down at him. “Damn ya, boy, ya fell asleep on me. We’d better have another go so ya can see what ya missed.”
A wave of nausea rushed over the tracker at those words and he puked. It was mainly bile, as he did not have much in his stomach, but the reaction infuriated Hudson. Grabbing his belt he began to lash Vin across the back, buttocks and thighs, continuing until the tracker was well marked with bloody weals and cuts.
Then he raped the tracker again until more blood streaked his victim’s thighs.
Finally he was ready to call it a night. Vin, who by now was only semi-conscious, felt Hudson untying his hands from the headboard, but was too weak to do more than moan softly as Hudson pulled them behind him and tied them securely again. Then he gagged Vin once more. “Well, I enjoyed that,” Hudson announced, “and you’ll be pleased to know I’ve got somewhere safe and snug to keep ya when ya ain’t in use.”
As he spoke, he freed Vin’s ankles and then picked him up. He carried Vin through to the kitchen and laid him down on the floor, while he removed a worn mat and raised a trapdoor in the floor. He then picked his victim up again and lowered him into a hole about three feet deep and four feet square beneath. “Ya know, my ma was always naggin’ my pa to finish diggin’ this storage cellar for her, but he never got round to it,” Hudson commented. “She used to complain that all this was just a useless hole in the ground, but I’m provin’ her wrong, ain’t I?” With that he slammed the trapdoor down and bolted it.
Vin was left alone in the cramped space.
Hudson was not to know it, but if he wanted to break the tracker, he had just inadvertently hit on one of the most likely ways. Vin had an absolute terror of confined spaces. One of his foster homes had had a cellar, small, dark and rat-infested, and as an eleven year old, he had been locked in there for days as a punishment. When finally released he had fled blindly only to be found and returned to the orphanage from which the man had originally acquired him, when seeking cheap labour. The experience had given him an absolute phobia about confinement.
+ + + + + + +
Vin’s disappearance was not discovered until the next day and, at first, the six were not really worried. They had all experienced Mr Tanner’s premature flights from sickbeds before and had come to rather expect such behaviour from the contumacious tracker.
Although Chris had been assailed by guilt at what he had done to Vin, he had decided that what was done was done and that he would make no attempt to see him and to apologize until the next day. In truth, he felt Vin had merited some punishment, although probably not the type he had meted out, and so decided since he could not undo his actions, it would be as well to leave Vin alone to mull over what he had done to provoke such an extreme response. He knew the tracker was an honest, not to say harsh, self-critic and would hopefully be prepared to accept Chris’ punishment as deserved and forgive and forget.
After a somewhat restless night, he arose early and hurried along to see Vin. He hoped to get a chance to talk things out with him before the others were up. After all, he reasoned, he could hardly talk about what he had done in front of any of them as that would totally embarrass both him and Vin and compound his ‘crime’.
However, he found the room empty. He could not understand it. Okay, for Vin to get up when he had been ordered not to do so was not in the least surprising, but what the hell could he wearing?
Chris hurried to the livery. To his relief, Vin’s horse, Peso, and his newly acquired steed were both in the stables, as was Vin’s pathetic little pile of worldly goods. So the tracker was clearly still in town, but where?
He began a hurried search of the streets, but found no one.
“What are ya doin’, Chris?” Buck called cheerfully, as he emerged from the boarding-house.
“That damned Vin has taken off,” Chris replied, exasperated rather than really worried since he knew the tracker must be near at hand.
Wilmington grinned. “I wondered how long it would be. I bet Ezra that …”
“Stop jawin’ and give me a hand,” Chris snapped.
“Sure, but ya know we won’t find him lessen he wants to be found, don’t ya?”
“His horses and his gear are in the livery so he’s still in town,” Larabee retorted. “Even Vin can’t hide from us here.”
“Oh yeah?” Buck replied frankly dubious. He had a very strong respect for Vin’s ability to both track and to conceal his own tracks.
“Yeah! Rouse the others up to help,” Chris ordered.
Soon the other four were out on the street. JD was clearly looking forward to a bit of fun, Nathan was cursing disobedient trackers who did not deserve all the care others lavished on them, Josiah was muttering on much the same lines as the healer and Ezra was complaining vociferously about having his beauty sleep disturbed. Suddenly the gambler broke off as a thought occurred to him and he asked, “Mr Larabee, pardon my inquiry, but what do you anticipate Mr Tanner will be wearing? Surely you were not so foolish as to return his apparel?”
“Ya took his clothes?” Buck and JD chorused, both looking highly amused.
Larabee glared at them. “Yes!” he snapped. “And no I certainly did not!” he turned to address Ezra.
“Ya m-mean … Ya mean he’s s-sneakin’ around n-naked?” JD asked. He was giggling so much he could hardly speak.
“Must be, kid,” Buck said, also laughing heartily at the image the idea conjured up. “Though it really is a bit surprisin’. Ya know how shy he is. He won’t normally strip off in front of anybody. He must have been desperate to escape Chris’ tender nursin’”
“Shut up both of ya!” Larabee ordered, turning his best glare on them, but for once it had little effect as they were too enthralled by the thoughts they were having.
“Hey, Buck, d’ya think we should warn the ladies to keep their curtains drawn?” JD chortled.
“Well, kid, knowing the ladies as I do, I s’pect they’re more likely to be out with their spyglasses iffen they hear it’s Vin wanderin’ around naked.”
That image set the pair laughing hysterically and Chris was very tempted to crack their skulls together. However, they were spared that retribution as the gambler decided enough time had been wasted. “I am certain that the devious Mr Tanner is more than capable of purloining the necessary clothing,” Ezra observed dryly. “I suggest that we all make our best endeavour to locate him as soon as humanly possible so Mr Larabee can arrange his demise and we can all enjoy our belated breakfasts.”
“Yeah, my stomach thinks its throat’s cut,” JD observed. “Besides I do want to see what he’s wearin’.”
“Me too! C’mon, kid, we’ll start at the far end of town and work our way back,” Buck said, still grinning broadly.
Two hours later, nobody was still smiling. Many other citizens had got involved and had checked their properties, but there was no sign of Vin and no reports of missing clothing or horses.
“Hell! Even Vin can’t just vanish!” Buck exclaimed wearily as they finally all gave in to hunger pangs and sat down to breakfast.
However, after breakfast, all began searching the area surrounding the town and still no trace of the tracker could be found.
Vin Tanner’s mysterious disappearance was still the main topic of conversation, argument and speculation three days later when they and some other townsmen gathered in the saloon, but they were still no further ahead.
“Surely he would have returned by now if he was okay,” Josiah opined.
“Dunno,” JD said. “He was pretty mad with everyone for fussin’ over him. Maybe he ain’t comin’ back.”
There! Someone had finally voiced the fear that was starting to eat at them all. But why go on foot and abandon his gear? It was a total mystery to all but one man present.
.Tom Matthews was starting to have his suspicions, suspicions so monstrous that he could not yet bring himself to voice them.
Matthews and Martin had happily joined Hudson in baiting Vin, but they had never for one moment imagined that Hudson actually had any sexual intent towards him. A pretty, longhaired man was fair game for some harassment, especially since he embarrassed so easily, but it was only a game, a harmless bit of bullying. At least, that was how Matthews and Martin had regarded their antics. However, Matthews was starting to wonder whether Hudson had actually been serious.
He had called at Hudson’s ranch the previous day, wondering if his friend was ill. Normally Hudson was in town every day, leaving the ranch work to his hired hands, but he had not been seen since the day before Tanner’s disappearance.
That Hudson was not sick had become immediately apparent, but there was something odd about his manner. He claimed to have been busy fencing, but he had an air of elation about him that did not fit with his known dislike of physical labour. Further, he seemed to be constantly on the verge of telling Matthews some stupendous piece of news, but then kept drawing back as if uncertain whether the confidence should be given. It was most unusual because Hudson was not usually backward in coming forward with news.
Finally, Hudson asked, “Have they found Tanner yet?”
The question did not surprise Matthews because, since it was the hot topic, any passerby could have told Hudson about the matter. “Nope, no one has a clue where he is though there’s lotsa speculation.”
“I’ll bet there is, but they won’t find him,” Hudson announced confidently.
“That’s what some say. The guy’s like a damn Indian. If he’s gone to ground that’s it.”
“What do ya think?” Hudson asked.
“I dunno. I s’pose he’s just taken off. But you’d think Larabee could find him if anyone could.”
“Why Larabee?”
“Ya know how the pair of them seem to have a real link. It’s almost like they know what each other is thinkin’ at times.”
“Really?”
“Oh, come on, Jim, you’ve pointed it out yerself. I remember ya said it was really ‘cause Larabee used to tell Tanner things he didn’t tell others. I remember ya called it “pillow-talk”. Dan and I justa about cracked a gut laughin’ when ya said that. The thought of Larabee makin’ up to a man, even to a pretty boy like Tanner, just about killed us.”
“Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” Hudson said, preening himself in memory of what he had considered one of his better jests, and adding, “Well, seems Tanner ain’t really much for talkin’ in bed.”
“What do ya mean?”
“Oh … ah,” Hudson hesitated for a moment realizing he had said more than he had intended. “I-I mean … I mean he obviously didn’t tell Larabee where he was goin’ this time. Anyway I don’t want to talk about Tanner. He doesn’t interest me.”
Matthews stared at him. Vin Tanner was usually of extreme interest to Hudson, who enjoyed recalling the things he had said to Vin and planning other comments designed to torment him. However, he decided to let the matter drop. “Yeah, well are ya gonna invite me in for coffee?”
“C-Coffee?”
“Yeah, coffee. Ya know that muck ya always serve me when I call.” With the ease of longstanding friendship, he went to enter the house, but Hudson moved into his path.
“Sorry, Tom, I’m plumb outta coffee.”
“Oh well, anythin’ will do.” He went to push past his friend, but Hudson blocked his way.
“Sit down on the porch, Tom, and I’ll bring ya a beer.”
“It’d be warmer in ya kitchen.”
“Yeah, but … but I’m … I’m … I’m sorta in a mess … spring-cleaning.”
Hudson spring-cleaning? Apart from the obvious fact that the season was autumn, Tom’s mind had boggled at his idle friend cleaning anything. “I don’t mind.”
“Well, I do! Just sit there and wait.” Hudson had then headed in and shut the door behind him.
The conversation had been strange and Matthews had replayed it several times in his mind, but he still was not certain. Hudson was a bit of an odd cuss at times, but surely he would not have the guts, or perhaps more accurately given the nature of the man’s friends, the stupidity to kidnap Vin Tanner. Anyway, it was hard to believe after all Hudson’s jokes about homosexuals that he was actually that way inclined himself. He would have liked to talk the whole thing over with Dan Martin, but Dan had left on a month long cattle drive two days before, and he had no other close friends. Under the circumstances, he felt that he would just make a bloody fool out of himself if he said anything to anyone else.
So Matthews decided to keep his suspicions to himself and thus doomed Vin to another three days of hell.
The repeated rapes and beatings were bad enough, but it was the cellar that was breaking him. The close confinement was unbearable to one who hated spending more than a couple of hours indoors at a stretch. Jammed into what was no more than a hole in the ground, with poor ventilation and not enough room to lie or stand, Vin spent his time underground in a swirling mist of commingled pain and fear.
He alternated between dry retching and hyperventilating. Both were frightening. The former because if he actually was to vomit, unlikely as it was since Hudson was punishing him for the episode in which he had puked by giving him only water and little enough of that, he would be in danger of choking because of the gag. However, it was the latter that really terrified him, the suffocating feeling of not being able to draw enough air into his lungs. The more he panicked, the harder it was to breathe, and that frightened him still more. It was a vicious, escalating cycle made even worse by the illogical, but unshakable, belief that somehow the walls were closing in him.
Drenched in tears and fever-induced sweat, his body shaking uncontrollably and his arm aching fiercely to say nothing of his other injuries, Vin knew he was going to die. He was certain of it. His body was weakening fast. The actual idea of dying did not worry him. It was the method. This never-ending physical and, worse, mental torture was unbearable.
When he did manage to fight down his fears enough to think for a few minutes with any degree of clarity, he was haunted by other anxieties. The only real regret he had about leaving this life was his last encounter with Chris. He hoped like hell that his body would never be found as he feared Chris might feel some guilt for beating him and think that his actions had driven Vin from the town and thus into Hudson’s clutches. Larabee had enough demons in his life already without that.
He wondered what Chris was doing and whether he had bothered to look for him. He had never experienced Chris’ wrath before, although he had seen others on the receiving end. Even though it had shredded his heart, perhaps it was for the best if Chris had been mad enough to wash his hands of him. Then the gunslinger might forget him.
But he could not forget Chris. The sardonically handsome face was always before him. As Hudson thrust mercilessly into him, he concentrated on that beloved image and somehow it helped. As he gasped desperately for air in the cellar, the same image was all that kept his sanity. But would it be enough?
He had his answer when Hudson dragged him roughly towards his cell after his fourth night at the ranch. His arms were already bound behind him, but Hudson had not yet secured the gag that dangled round Vin’s neck. Unable to stand, he was lying flat on his stomach, where Hudson had dropped him, while his captor moved the mat and raised the trapdoor. He couldn’t go back in there, he just couldn’t. “No! Please!” he rasped. The shameful words were out before he could stop them.
“What’s the matter, Vin? Gettin’ chatty all of a sudden, are ya?” Hudson observed gleefully. Vin’s steadfast refusal to speak had irritated him beyond measure. Up to this point he had succeeded in making Vin scream with pain, but the tracker had refused to beg, which had reduced his fun more than somewhat. “Well, speak up, boy. Tell ol’ Uncle Jim what ya want.”
Vin wanted to keep quiet. He willed his tongue to do so, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. “Don’t make me go in there,” it whispered huskily.
“Well, I might let ya stay up here, but you’ll have to show me that yer in a more cooperative frame of mind.”
Totally exhausted in both mind and body, Vin looked vaguely at him, not sure what was required.
“Don’t be so fuckin' dense, Tanner. Show me how much ya want me. Open yer legs for me and ask me nicely. Well, hurry up! I ain’t gonna wait long ya know.”
And to his everlasting shame, Vin obeyed, spreading his thighs and muttering, “Please.” He had no reason to trust Hudson to keep his word, but he just could not go into that cellar again.
Laughing exultantly, Hudson rammed into him in spite of the fact that he had already had Vin several times that evening. Indeed, Vin’s surrender seemed to encourage him to new excesses. Lost in a haze of pain, the tracker screamed in agony and slipped into unconsciousness.
When he was next aware of his surroundings, he found he was back in Hudson’s room tied to the bed again. Although the curtains were closed, there was a slight gap at the top and he could see that it was daylight. Hudson had actually kept to his part of the shameful bargain and all Vin could feel at that moment was relief. Self-recrimination could, and would, come later, but at last he could sleep. The cramped conditions in the cellar had precluded that and he was completely worn out. He closed his eyes and drifted off into a welcome oblivion.