FIVE
The next couple of days were a repeat of the earlier bout of fever, with Vin tossing restlessly, broken words and phrases spilling from his lips. Confused and frightened as to his whereabouts, he cried out in distress, asking repeatedly for Chris and seemingly unaware that the man almost constantly at his bedside was the one he so desperately sought.Finally, he returned to them. Long lashes fluttered open and he peered blearily around. “Where …” he started tentatively.
“Yer at Nathan’s clinic,” Chris exclaimed relieved to see his friend was conscious at last.
“Ch-Chris?” Vin was still unfocused and feared that the gunslinger was a figment of his imagination. Chris had been in his thoughts and fevered dreams so often, it seemed impossible that he could be present in the flesh.
Larabee reached out and gently pushed Vin’s unkempt hair back from his face. He ran his hand down Vin’s cheek. Few people who had met the deadly gunslinger could have imagined the tenderness in his touch or gaze. “It’s me, Vin. Yer safe now, cowboy.”
Cowboy? That was enough. It had to be Chris. Ever since Larabee had indicated that he felt the term to be an insult when directed at him, Vin had used it as a tease and Chris had flung it right back at him. It had become a term of affection, though neither would admit it, usually responding with assumed indignation.
“Chris!” He smiled happily and raised his good hand to clutch the one stroking his face. He repeated the name again as if to reassure himself.
Hearing the husky voice, Larabee hurriedly asked, “D’ya want somethin’ to drink, Vin?”
“Please.”
Larabee raised him slightly and held a glass to his dry lips. “Slowly, cowboy,” he warned, as the tracker gulped greedily. “You’ll make yerself sick.”
Vin nodded reluctantly and allowed Chris to lower him back down. He smiled sleepily at the gunslinger.
For a moment, Larabee allowed himself to believe that all would be well, but he was soon disabused of that notion. “I’ll just go and tell Nathan that …” he started, breaking off as he saw Vin’s face fall.
“No!” Vin fumbled for his hand and latched tightly onto it.
“It’s okay, Vin,” he said. “I’ll only be five minutes. He’s only at the general store.”
Vin ran a nervous tongue over his lips and glanced around nervously. His mouth worked and he finally forced out the word, “H-Hudson?”
“The bastard’s dead, Vin. I shot him.”
“Th-Thank you,” Vin whispered, but even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t the end of his assailant. He was never going to be free of Hudson. He started violently as Nathan opened the door and Larabee saw the fear in his eyes before the tracker could conceal it.
However, Chris simply turned to Nathan and commented, laconically, “He’s back with us, Nate. Get ready for trouble.” It was meant as a joke, but both Chris and Nathan knew that trouble was only too likely, and if it turned out to be no more than Vin doing his demon patient act, they would both be secretly overjoyed. However, after what their friend had been through they doubted it would be that easy.
However, the next few days passed without incident. Vin was very quiet, apparently sleeping for much of the time, but when he was awake his eyes followed Chris’ every move and on the few occasions when Larabee left the room, Nathan observed him becoming agitated. His breathing quickened and his knuckles showed white as he clutched the covers. Not wanting to upset Chris and to make him feel he could not leave the room, the healer did not mention this to Larabee.
Buck and the others sought regular bulletins, but Nathan had put a ban on all visitors apart from Chris. The exception surprised no one, as all knew nothing could have kept the gunslinger from the tracker’s bedside.
Finally, Nathan said to Chris, “I wonder if we should move him out of the clinic. He’s been here so long the others are starting to get really worried. I met Buck outside a few minutes ago and he asked if Vin was going to die. They all know Vin can’t stand being in the clinic normally and they can’t understand how we’re managing to keep him here, unless he’s too sick to stop us. However, be that as it may, my main concern is Vin himself. He doesn’t seem to be making any progress. He just lies there listlessly. He doesn’t speak unless I ask him if he wants anything or if he feels okay and all he gives me is his catchphrase “I’m fine”. Furthermore, he’s hardly eating a thing. Perhaps he’d do better in other surroundings.”
“D’ya think I should take him out to my place?”
“No, it’s a bit far if there are problems. What about the room that’s kept for your use at the boarding-house?” As part payment for their services, the townsfolk paid the seven’s accommodation, and even though Larabee had his own place, he had kept the room on as it was handy if circumstances necessitated him staying in town overnight.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. I’ll tell ya what, let’s move him after dark tonight. Hopefully, nobody will notice and we can get him shifted without him having to see anyone.”
When next Vin roused, Chris said, “Ya will be happy to know yer gettin’ out of here, Vin. I’m takin’ ya to my room at the boarding-house.”
Normally those words would have been music to the tracker’s ears, but he merely gave a brief nod and showed none his usual excitement at the prospect of escaping the despised clinic.
Nathan and Chris rigged a stretcher and effected his transfer that night. All went smoothly and they had the tracker installed in the boarding-house without anyone having been aware of the shift.
Once Nathan had gone, it occurred to Larabee that he was hungry, as he had not eaten since lunchtime.
“I think I’ll just go downstairs and get a bite to eat, Vin. I can bring somethin’ back up for ya. What do ya feel like?” he asked.
Vin stared at him in dismay. Chris was going to leave him. He was going to be alone. He had not been left since they had found him and he needed someone present to keep the lingering terror at bay and, more importantly, to provide a distraction from his depressing thoughts. “Chris, please I-I …” The tracker broke off ashamed of his weakness.
Larabee turned back. “What’s wrong, Vin?” he asked. The gentleness in his voice would have stunned almost everybody who knew him.
“N-Nothin’”
“It didn’t sound like nothin’, cowboy.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“No, I won’t, Vin. Just tell me.”
“Chris, I-I’m sc-scared.” His defenses were down and his beautiful sky-blue eyes were awash with unshed tears.
“Nothing to be frightened of, Vin. Hudson can’t hurt ya anymore.”
“I-I know. It’s just … It’s just … the walls are …” To his horror he started to sob brokenly. The sight of the normally stoical tracker weeping shook Larabee’s world.
He sat down on the bed and gathered Vin into his arms, holding him against his chest and stroking his silky hair. The slender tracker was shaking uncontrollably and clutching the gunslinger desperately. Chris felt the dampness of Vin’s tears on his chest. “C’mon, cowboy,” he murmured reassuringly, “yer goin’ to be all right.” He stroked a hand through Vin’s hair, petting him as he might a cat.
He felt rather than heard the tracker’s whispered, “No.”
“Yes, ya are.” He extricated himself from Vin’s grip and laid him down on the bed. “Now I’m going to give ya some of this drink Nathan made up for ya.”
“No, I don’t want any.”
“Too bad, cowboy. Just do as yer told. Yer gonna to have a nice sleep. I promise I won’t go anywhere. I’ll be right here beside ya keepin’ watch. Now open yer mouth, Vin, ‘cause ya ain’t got a say in this.”
Knowing he could never beat Chris Larabee in a battle of wills, Vin reluctantly complied. “Tastes awful,” Vin complained.
“It’s meant to.” The gunslinger started to rise.
“Ya said ya were stayin’. Ya promised!” Vin protested, clutching frantically at his sleeve.
“I am. I’m just goin’ to sit in that chair.”
“Can’t ya sit on the bed? Please I want … I want … I have to be able to t-touch ya.” The last phrase was little more than a whisper.
“What?”
“ I’m s-sorry, Chris. I have to … I need to know yer here.”
Observing his friend’s anguish, the gunslinger felt another wave of anger. He wished Hudson was still alive so he could have the pleasure of killing him slowly for what he had done to Vin. “I gave ya my word that I’d stay, Vin.”
“I’m sorry. I know. I j-just can’t …” He broke off as the tears started flowing down his pallid cheeks once more.
“Okay, Vin, the bed it is. Move over. If I’m stayin’ I might as well be comfortable.” With that he unbuckled his gunbelt, toed off his boots and slipped into bed alongside a stunned Vin. “Okay now, cowboy?”
“Yes,” came the whispered reply.
Larabee reached for the lamp.
“C-Could ya leave it burnin’ ?”
Although Larabee knew he would have to handle Vin carefully, he believed that the tracker needed to start working to overcome his fears as soon as he could. To combat these Vin needed to face them rather than give into them. Accordingly, he decided to draw a line at this point, so he said, “No, Vin. Ya can have the lamp or me, but not both. I can’t sleep with the light on. Now choose. Which is it to be?”
The dark was frightening, but to be without the comforting presence of the gunslinger was unthinkable. “You … please.”
“Right, now go to sleep. We both need it.”
It was an order and Vin found himself snuggling down. He drifted off quickly, the combination of pain, laudanum, stress and exhaustion having taken its toll.
Larabee lay for a long time listening to his quiet breathing and wondering anew how one scruffy tracker had broken through his carefully constructed defenses so easily and burrowed his way into a heart many would have sworn the black-clad gunfighter did not possess. Finally he too nodded off.
About 6am, Vin opened his eyes, wondering what was going on. He had never woken in somebody’s arms before and for a moment did not realize what was restraining him, thinking he was tied once more. Panicking, he started to pull away, but the arms held him steady and a familiar voice drawled, “Calm down, cowboy. Some of us are tryin’ to sleep here.”
Chris! He was sleeping with his head on Chris’ shoulder. God! What would the gunslinger think of him? “I’m sorry, Chris,” he apologized.
“What for?”
“For being so … for makin’ ya stay.”
“Not yer fault, Vin.”
“But …”
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to, cowboy. I thought ya’d know that by now.”
Unfortunately, Vin was in no state to think logically. He knew that the marks on his body were obvious and so Chris would be bound to be aware that Hudson had had him even though he had never broached the subject. That was bad enough, but how embarrassed and angry the gunslinger would be if he knew Vin’s guilty secret, if he learnt that he was sharing a bed with a man who let another man take him.
He thought he ought to confess, but the words stuck in his throat. He could not bear the condemnation he was sure he would see in Chris’ eyes.
Larabee was aware that Vin seemed to want to say something. That surprised him more than somewhat given the tracker’s taciturn nature, but he hoped Vin would eventually open up and talk about his ordeal. Nathan had told Chris that he considered being able to talk about one’s rape and to express one’s anger was an important part of the healing process for a woman and he imagined the same would hold true if the victim was a man.
“Do ya want to talk about what happened, Vin?” he asked, in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.
Vin shuddered visibly. “No!” he exclaimed hurriedly.
“Nathan reckons it might help ya to do so.”
“No, I-I’m fine,” he lied.
Of course, Larabee knew Vin was anything but fine. After all, “I’m fine” was, as Nathan had observed, Vin’s standard response whenever he was ill or injured. However, he let this pass, considering it was probably a little early to push the issue. Once Vin was better physically, he and Nathan could work on his psychological upset.
“Okay, what about some breakfast? What do ya feel like?”
“’M not hungry, Chris.” In truth, having eaten virtually nothing since he had been shot, the tracker had gone past the point of feeling hunger and thinking about eating, let alone actually doing it, seemed just too much effort.
“Ya need to eat somethin’, Vin. Yer too damn skinny at the best of times and I reckon, after the last few days, I could count yer ribs.”
“Later. I’m tired. I want to sleep.”
“Do ya want me to stay, Vin?” Chris asked, remembering the frantic way the tracker had clung to him the night before. “Nathan’s callin’ in to check on ya in an hour or so and I can wait for breakfast 'til he gets here.”
“N-No, I’m fine.” In truth, he would have preferred Chris to stay, but how could he expect it under the circumstances. Anyway, he did feel a bit better seeing the sunlight streaming in the window. It was not as frightening as being alone at night.
Larabee felt a bit happier. This did seem to represent an improvement on the previous night. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Vin. I’m only goin’ downstairs and I won’t be leavin’ the building. Ya just try to behave yerself while I’m away, cowboy.”
Unable to respond in kind to the jesting comment, Vin simply nodded and snuggled down under the covers until only a few stray curls were visible.
Chris dressed quickly. Then he patted Vin’s shoulder reassuringly through the blankets. “Back soon, pard.”
When he reached the boarding-house’s dining room, he found Buck and JD there, apparently lingering over breakfast in case he made an appearance. “We called at the clinic first thing,” Buck explained, ”and Nathan said Vin had moved here. I guess that must mean he’s improvin’, but that damned Nathan wasn’t sayin’ much. Mind you, I think he was a mite peeved because we woke him up. Anyway, how is he?”
“He seems a bit better. Didn’t want any breakfast though.”
“Is he ready for visitors yet?” JD inquired eagerly.
“I don’t know,” Chris responded honestly. “He still seems pretty tired and he still ain’t feelin’ too good.”
“We thought we could just pop in for five minutes,” JD said. “Ya know just to let him know we’re thinkin’ about him. I even bought him some candy. Ya know what a sweet tooth he’s got.”
Larabee was not sure how to respond. The trouble was the decision that he, Nathan and Ezra had made, not to tell the others exactly what Vin had endured. As a result, all Buck, JD and Josiah knew was that, for some inexplicable reason, Hudson had taken a set against the tracker and had chosen to beat him up badly. Because they knew no more than that, it seemed extremely odd to them that Jackson and Larabee were denying visitors access to Vin, as they had all called on him in the past when he had been hurt.
“Wait till I’ve had breakfast and we’ll go and see if he feels up to callers,” Chris said. Whatever happened, he wanted to be present. He definitely knew that Vin was not up to coping with Buck’s boisterous presence and bad jokes and JD’s interminable questions on his own, but hoped the tracker might feel up to handling a short visit with his support.
The meal over, the three trooped upstairs. “Wait here,” Chris said, pushing ahead of the pair and shutting the door firmly behind him.
Buck and JD looked at each other in bemusement. For all Chris’ attempts to make things appear normal, there was something odd going on. Surely it would not have hurt if one of them had simply stuck his head round the door and asked Vin if they could visit.
Meanwhile, the gunslinger was telling Vin, “Buck and JD have come visitin’”
The tracker went into a panic at the news. “No! I don’t … I can’t … Chris, I just can’t face people. I-I can’t stand them knowin’ … knowin’ that he … that I … ” He broke off gasping and completely distraught.
“Vin, they don’t know what Hudson did to ya. All they know is Hudson beat ya up and yer sick again. Ya have got to face people eventually or they will start wonderin’ what’s goin’ on.”
“I can’t! Not yet! Please, Chris, I …” He broke off as the door started to open.
“Hey, what’s goin’ on?” Buck called.
Larabee hurried across the room to prevent an entry. “Shhh! He’s asleep,” he lied, ushering the pair down the corridor.
However, the two had heard the voices within, although they had not been able to pick up the words. “But we …” JD started.
Buck hurriedly interrupted. “We can come back later. C’mon, JD!” He shoved the sheriff ahead of him.
Larabee headed back into the room, while the pair clattered their way down the stairs.
“But Vin wasn’t asleep,” JD protested. “Didn’t ya hear them talkin’, Buck?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“Why do ya think Chris is lyin’ to us?”
“I dunno, kid, but he’ll have his reasons.”
“Ain’t ya curious?”
“Yeah, but there’s no point in tryin’ to get information out of Larabee if he doesn’t want to give it. We’d just get him mad and ya know what that’s like. Let’s go and see if Nathan or Ezra will tell us.” However, they found the normally garrulous gambler as close-lipped as the gunslinger on that subject.
That afternoon, Chris decided to venture out again. He was all too aware that Buck and JD had not believed him about Vin being asleep and had decided he ought to go and speak to them. He was not quite sure what he should say, but he feared the pair might try to get in to see Vin when they knew he was out of the room and he had to forestall that. Also he figured he ought to be seen around the town as he thought people would be bound to talking about what had happened and he wanted things to appear as normal as possible. A third, and by no means unimportant, consideration was that Vin had agreed to being left alone at breakfast time and he wanted to try to build on that encouraging improvement.
Unfortunately, he did not realize just how much anguish the tracker had bottled up inside him and thought it a good sign when Vin made no protest at his announcement that he was going out for half an hour or so. Then, as it turned out, several people wanted to speak to him about various things, and time stretched out to more than an hour without him noticing its passage.
Left alone, with only his anxieties for company, Vin did not cope well.
As his body had healed, he had gradually lost the distraction of physical pain and his mental trauma had worsened. Lying in bed, in the clinic, he had had time to think and he had kept going over and over what had happened, creating his own purgatory.
How could he have submitted to Hudson? How damned worthless he was!
For much of his life Vin had had nothing but his pride, his belief in himself, and he had clung to it as a lifeline, resisting the attempts of adults at the orphanage and in various foster homes to undermine it. Now that self-esteem had been shattered beyond redemption. It seemed that his detractors had been right about him all along.
So when Chris and Nathan had fussed over him, trying to be kind and to help him, it had made things worse because he knew he did not deserve their consideration and friendship. He was sure that if they knew the truth things would be quite different, but coward that he was, he could not bring himself to confess though his conscience urged him to end the pretence.
He thought about leaving town, but knew they would follow and, in any case, distancing himself from them was only a partial solution to his problem. He could not escape himself.
No, there was really only one thing to do and he was ready for it. They had not given him his gun, but he had found a knife in Nathan’s clinic and had managed to hide it in his sling when they were moving him to the boarding-house.
He wanted to be outside when he did the deed. He had always hoped he would die in the open air, not cooped up in a bed.
This posed a problem as he was still very weak both from his illness and lack of food, and he feared if he went downstairs he would not be able to move fast enough to slip away unseen. However, he now recalled the fire escape that ran down the back of the boarding-house. That would give him access to the roof, and since he was already on the upper floor, he figured he ought to have the strength to make the climb.
Having made his decision, he clambered out of bed and donned his trousers. He rejected his boots, deciding they would be more hindrance than help on the narrow wooden ladder. Removing the knife from its hiding place under the mattress, he put it inside his sling once more.
Moving as quickly as he could, he headed along to the end of the corridor and pushed the window sash up.
As he swung his legs over the sill, he realized it was not going to be as easy as he had hoped. To climb he would need both hands, as he was likely to fall if he tried to use only one. Now it might be thought that that would not be a major consideration for a man bent on self-slaughter, but he figured the building was not high enough to guarantee he would be killed. All a fall might accomplish would be to injure him further and alert the others as to the necessity of keeping a close watch on him to ensure that he never got the opportunity to attempt to end his life again. Accordingly, he slipped his bad arm out of the sling and hoped it could at least steady him, while the other did the hard graft of pulling him upwards.
In the event, what would normally have been but a few moments’ climb took several minutes to accomplish and he was light-headed and breathing heavily, by the time he made it. He dragged himself over the parapet on his stomach and slithered the two or so feet down onto the flat roof. Rolling onto his back, he lay gasping for a few minutes, his breath rasping painfully in his throat.
His arm was very sore. ‘At least I won’t have to face, Nathan,’ he thought. ‘He’d skin me alive for damagin’ it again.’
Having caught his breath, he staggered to his feet and stood, swaying slightly. Once he was fairly certain he was not going to fall flat on his face, he walked unsteadily along the roof and looked down at the main street. He wished he could see Chris one last time, but he guessed that was asking too much.
He moved across to one side of the roof that looked down into an alley. Sitting down dejectedly on the parapet, legs dangling over the side, he placed the knife beside him and started to steel himself for what he was about to do.
He remembered Josiah saying killing oneself was a sin, when talking about a local farmer, who had topped himself rather than face his debts, and had left his wife with four young children and a farm mortgaged to the hilt.
Vin had not really understood why it was wrong. Okay, perhaps that man should have thought of his family, but Vin had no one that would suffer from his death. Surely, a man should not have to go on if there was nothing to live for. A worthless man should be able to choose to die rather than having to drag out his miserable existence.
As he again mulled over his abject surrender to Hudson’s will, a huge painful lump formed in Vin’s throat. He did not deserve his friends' affection and care. His heavy lids closed, as tears of shame, weakness and guilt slid down his cheeks. Sobs wracked his slender frame and he was so lost in his world of misery that he did not hear Chris’ stealthy approach.
Unbeknownst to Vin, a couple of boys had spotted him struggling on the fire escape. They had watched for a few moments, wondering who it could be and what on earth he was doing. Then one had realized it was Mr Tanner. Vin was always kind to the local children and all liked him, even if they knew some adults looked askance at the scruffy sharpshooter. Of course, local gossip had made all aware that Vin was very ill and so the boys knew he was definitely doing something he had no business to be doing. As they watched, he nearly fell, and they had realized they had to take action.
Decision made, they had run in search of Mr Larabee and had finally spotted him coming out of the sheriff’s office, while talking to Messrs. Wilmington and Dunne. The older boy interrupted him crying urgently, “Mr Larabee, ya gotta come quick! Mr Tanner’s climbin’ the fire escape out back of the boarding-house and we reckon he’s likely to fall!”
Larabee had responded immediately, directing the other men to either side of the building as he ran. However, by the time he had reached the back of the building, Vin was out of sight. Chris had motioned the lads to be quiet and had climbed silently up in search of his friend.
The gunslinger stopped at the top of the ladder and looked across at his friend perching on the parapet, wondering how on earth to approach him. Vin’s situation was so precarious, he feared startling him might have disastrous consequences. He only hoped those waiting below would keep quiet.
A glint of sunlight alerted him to the fact that Vin had a knife lying beside him. Horrified, he watched Vin pushing back the bandage on his right wrist. ‘Oh, God, he’s going to kill himself,’ he realized. Throwing caution aside, he exclaimed, “Vin! Don’t!” while climbing quickly onto the roof.
The tracker seemed totally absorbed in what he was doing and gave no appearance of being aware of Larabee’s presence. Clearly satisfied that he had moved the bandage sufficiently for his purposes, he calmly picked up the knife.
“Vin, put that down,” Chris said quietly but firmly, as he edged towards the sharpshooter.