"Ow! Ow! Ow! Damn!" the tracker complained. There was no one to hear him or he certainly would not have been so vocal.
He limped his way out of the river, wincing at every step, and sat down on the riverbank to examine his foot. Some stupid bastard had obviously smashed a bottle in the river and Vin had managed to put a foot right on top of the shards.
"It's all yer damned fault, Larabee," he muttered vengefully. "Telling me I needed a bath just 'cos I had a few days' trail dust on me. I've told ya before that baths are dangerous, but did ya pay me any heed? Did ya hell!"
However, since the gunslinger was back in Four Corners, the comments were being wasted, so Vin turned his attention to dealing with the damage.
Uncomfortable sitting in a potentially public place wearing no more than a breechclout, he quickly pulled off the wet garment and dragged his trousers over his damp legs. Then he reached for his hunting knife.
He was about to start probing when a picture of Nathan popped into his mind. The healer would be sure to lecture him if he did not clean the blade. "Damn ya, Nate! Ya can even tell me off when ya ain't here," he grumbled.
He gave the knife a cursory dip into the river and then dried the blade on his trouser leg. "Happy now?" he sarcastically questioned the absent healer.
That concession to Jackson's unreasonable demands for hygiene made, he set to work to dig out the pieces of glass.
It was both an awkward and a painful task. His sheath knife's blade was too wide for the delicate task and he made quite a mess with some cuts. The free-running blood made his job increasingly difficult.
Eventually he decided he had got out all the bits he was going to manage. 'The rest'll hafta work its own way out,' he decided.
He reached for his bandanna and wrapped it around the offending foot. Then he shoved it awkwardly into a boot.
It was damned sore. It was going to be painful to walk on, but it was only a few cuts and a Tanner was not about to be inconvenienced by such a minor injury.
Gathering his gear, he whistled to Peso and the horse ambled over to him. "Good boy," he praised, as he swung into the saddle.
He rode hurriedly back into town and managed to get Peso bedded down without seeing any of the rest of the Seven. Then he debated heading straight to his wagon rather than joining the others.
His stomach spoke up loudly in favour of seeking sustenance, though his instincts warned that he was unlikely to be able to evade the others' prying eyes if he did so. Then they would insist Nathan look at the injury and there would be a fuss and he would be the centre of attention. He hated that.
However, if he did not go, that damned Larabee would come and drag him out of his wagon anyway to attend his damned meeting. If that happened, the gunslinger would be sure to spot his limp en route to the saloon and the result would be the same.
Okay, he would have to go, but what he needed to do was to get to the saloon unobserved and then surely he could manage to walk across the room without giving the game away. Actually, if he entered via the backdoor he could probably be at their favourite table before any of them observed his approach.
Decision made, he moved to the door of the livery stable and peeked out. Night had fallen and few people were about. Taking his chance, he hobbled painfully along the front of the building and down the alley at the side. "It's like having a damned boot full of needles,' he reflected wryly as he neared his goal.+ + + + + + +
He had returned to the town that morning after a week on patrol. He had not even managed to unsaddle Peso when Chris Larabee had stormed into the livery spitting tacks. "Where in hell have ya been, cowboy?" he demanded. "Ya said ya'd be back in three days."
Normally Vin would have given anyone short shrift who spoke to him like that, but he was uncomfortably aware that he had indeed made that promise and that the gunslinger would have been worried about him. After so many years of having nobody to care whether he lived or died, he kind of liked the feeling that he was missed when he was simply a few days overdue.
However, used to his time being his own, he tended to be vague as to his intentions and to often end up going places he had not originally planned. If the hunting was good or if a new track looked interesting he would just go and time meant nothing balanced against his wanderlust.
So, although others might have quailed before an angry Larabee, Vin merely smiled his lazy grin and drawled, "I reckon I mighta said three. Guess I was wrong."
That set the vein in Larabee's forehead throbbing steadily. Angry green eyes glared into innocent sky-blue. "Did it not occur to you that your presence might have been required here?" he asked, his voice icy.
"I can see ya needed me iffen that's what yer sayin'."
Larabee looked suspiciously at him. "What do ya mean?" he asked, knowing Tanner was probably setting him up.
"Well, cowboy, listen to ya." He grinned cheekily and mimicked Larabee's words and tone, "Your presence might have been required here." He ducked hurriedly as the gunslinger tried to cuff him across the ear and continued, "Hell, yer startin' to sound like old Ez. I guess ya've had to spend too much time chattin' to him without me here to talk to."
"Yeah, yer such a great conversationalist," Larabee responded sarcastically.
"Wow! Another Ez word! Dunno what it means, but it is an Ez word," Vin said provokingly.
"Yeah, well if I'm so much like Ezra, let me tell ya, ya need a bath, Tanner. Ya stink!" Chris replied, going on the attack.
Vin looked vaguely down at his grubby hands and dusty clothes. "Bit of dirt never hurt no one," he drawled casually. "I'll clean up tomorrow."
"No, ya won't. Ya'll do it now. The boys and I are meetin' in an hour's time to go over our plans and nobody'll want to sit with ya."
"Ya mean there really is somethin' goin' on?" Until this point, he had thought the gunslinger was just making his usual complaints about Vin's tendency to wander off on his own.
"I told ya there was."
"Okay, I'll be there. I'll grab a bite to eat first and ..."
"No, ya go and get cleaned up. We're goin' to discuss things over dinner so ya can wait till then."
"But I'm hungry now," Vin complained. That was only too true. He frequently returned hungry from his excursions because he liked to travel light. He would grab a few strips of jerky and that was it. Sure he could live off the land, but often he could not be bothered cooking proper meals and just snacked off anything edible that he found along the way.
"Too bad, cowboy, 'cos yer gonna have to wait," Larabee retorted in his 'no nonsense' voice. With that he stalked off.
Vin fished despondently through his pockets. He had intended to just buy a snack. He wondered what a proper dinner was going to cost. Their monthly payday was another week away and his funds were almost non-existent. Indeed, by this stage of the month, he was lucky to have any left at all. Between Ezra's card games and Vin's soft-heartedness in giving to anyone down on their luck, his money never seemed to stretch the distance.
He decided he had better forgo the small charge for using the bathhouse and head to the river. Besides, the bathhouse was not private enough for the shy tracker, who always felt uncomfortable undressing with others near.
He had been on the point of emerging after his wash, to return to Four Corners, when he had trodden on the broken bottle.+ + + + + + +
Vin eased open the back door to the saloon and moved quietly through to the bar, easing into his favourite seat. Letting out a breath he had not known he was holding, he looked around, but there was no sign of his fellow peacekeepers. He could not understand it. He was certain he had been away for more than an hour and had expected to be berated by Larabee for lateness, since the gunslinger would have expected him to only make a quick visit to the bathhouse.
He limped to the bar. "'S'cuse me, Inez, have ya got any idea where Chris and the boys are?" he asked.
"I think they are over at the boardinghouse. I believe Buck was going on about some dinner Mrs Martin was cooking, but I was too busy to pay him much attention."
Vin smiled at that. Inez's apparent imperviousness to the legendary Wilmington charm was a source of much chagrin to the scoundrel himself and much amusement to his six friends.
"Thank ya, Inez, I s'pose I oughta head over there and see what's goin' on," Vin said resignedly. In truth, what with being tired after his long patrol and with his foot plaguing him, he did not really want to face the inevitable scolding for his lateness from Larabee.
Hearing the reluctance in his voice, Inez looked up from the glasses she was wiping and saw how pale he looked. Didn't they tell you about their plans, Vin?" Inez asked, with a note of concern. She was very fond of the quiet-spoken tracker, who always treated her like a lady, and hoped he was not at odds with the others. She had overheard a fuming Larabee discussing his non-return from patrol with Buck on more than one occasion over the previous couple of days. Typically Buck had tried to make light of the situation, but Larabee had refused to be mollified and Inez was well aware that the gunslinger had a nasty temper. However, she also knew that if anyone could get away unscathed after angering him it would be the tracker. The two seemed to be so close at times as to be almost able to read each other's thoughts. Why if Larabee had not been a married man she might even have wondered whether ... No! The idea was just too impossible to contemplate.
"Y-Yeah, but they d-didn't say ... I-I mean I th-thought they would be eatin' in here," Vin stammered, confused by the worried expression on her face.
"Are you sure you are all right, Vin?" Inez asked.
"Yeah, but I won't be iffen I don't get over there quick. Chris is a bit pis ... I-I mean Chris ain't too pleased with me at present," he corrected himself hurriedly, blushing furiously.
Inez' heart went out to him. Most men never thought about moderating their language in front of her. After all a woman who worked in a bar should have heard it all, and by her choice of occupation, had put herself beyond the pale, no longer warranting the consideration that any other woman might rightly claim as the due to her sex. However, it was not only his rapid change of word that got to her, it was his blush. She had observed that before when the others were teasing him or when one of the saloon girls, often with Buck's encouragement, tried to flirt with him. She was always hard put not to intervene on those occasions because Vin Tanner managed to raise mothering instincts in her that she had not realized she possessed. However, she knew that any interference on her part would just embarrass him more. So now too, she drew back rather than fluster him more and simply said, "You had best go quickly then."
She watched his halting progress across the bar. For all his endeavours to hide it, he was limping and paradoxically that made her feel better. She knew how he hated having to seek medical help. The injury was probably the cause of his apparent upset rather than any real falling out with Chris.
Meanwhile the object of her concern was moving painfully towards the boardinghouse. He debated trying to enter that building through the backdoor, but knew that would entail going through the kitchen and he doubted he would be able to get through there without Mrs Martin spotting something amiss and alerting Nathan.
So, taking a deep breath and silently telling his foot that any protests it made would be ignored, he stepped into the boardinghouse to be transfixed by the full force of a Larabee glare.
"And what's yer damned excuse this time, Tanner?" the gunslinger demanded, scowling.
"Am I late?" Vin asked innocently.
Of course ya are and ya damned well know it."
"I ain't got no fancy pocket-watch like Ez has," Vin said.
"Well, ya couldn't read one anyway," Chris snapped.
Vin flinched involuntarily. Larabee had unerringly struck where it would hurt him most. His head went down, and to his horror, he felt tears welling in his eyes. He had hoped so desperately that his inability to read had gone unnoticed. It shamed him so much that all the others seemed to find reading no chore at all and yet all those little black squiggles on Mary Travis' newspapers were totally incomprehensible to him. And to have Chris call attention to what he saw as his stupidity cut him to the quick.
Without a word, he started to turn away, thus missing the horrified expressions on the faces of his friends. Five pairs of eyes looked reproachfully at Chris, but they need not have bothered, as none of them could have been angrier with him than he was with himself. The hurtful comment had burst from him, as his volatile temper took control, and he was appalled by what he had said.
He lurched to his feet and grabbed Vin's arm. "Vin, I'm sorry I ..." he started, but Vin shook him off and kept moving. Larabee followed. The others remained seated, looking apprehensively at each other.
Vin went to head down the alley alongside the boarding house. However, he had gone no more than a few steps into the blackness when Larabee latched onto his arm again, and this time, was not about to let go. "Please wait, Vin. I'm sor-"
"Just leave me alone, Chris," the tracker interrupted, struggling to extricate himself from the larger man's grip.
"Vin, I didn't mean to say it. It just slipped out. I'm sorry."
The tracker could hear the anguish in Larabee's voice. He was torn. Part of him wanted to head for the livery, saddle Peso, and ride the hell out of there. The other part knew that there was one person that had come to mean all the world to him, that for some inexplicable reason the hot-tempered gunslinger had claimed a permanent place in his heart and he could not bear to contemplate leaving him. 'It's all yer own damned fault, Tanner. Ya shouldn't have talked back to him. Ya know he lashes out when he's angry. Anyway he sounds real upset about what he said,' he thought. Forcing down the hurt, he rasped, "My fault. It's all my fa-"
To his complete surprise, Larabee pulled him against his chest and hugged him. "No, it's mine, Vin," he insisted.
Stunned, the tracker, who normally shunned bodily contact with anyone, made no attempt to pull away. Indeed an unprecedented wave of happiness washed over him, overwhelming his defenses of a lifetime. It felt so right to be encircled by those strong arms, so very, very right. For the first time, he realized exactly what he wanted from the gunslinger and the revelation hit him with the force of a freight train. 'So this is what it's like to love someone,' he thought dazedly. He leaned into the embrace and buried his face against the broad chest, revelling in the moment, knowing it would be unlikely to ever be repeated, and wanting to enjoy the sensation as long as he could.
Scant moments later, a shaken Larabee loosened his grip. He had hugged the scruffy tracker in an impulsive, and unprecedented, gesture of comfort, surprising himself by his action. He could have accepted that, and simply passed it off as a momentary aberration, had he not been absolutely stunned by just how wonderful it felt to hold that slender body against him, to feel the soft curls brushing his chin and to feel Vin snuggling into his embrace. No, it just could not be!
"Vin, are ya all right?" he questioned tentatively, his voice sounding strained. He was as aware as Vin was that his world had inexplicably tilted, but unlike the tracker was unprepared to recognize the truth. Indeed, he quickly dismissed his uncharacteristic actions and completely unprecedented feelings, privately comforting himself with the notion that 'I guess I've just drunk more than I thought.'
"Y-Yeah, I'm sorry, Chris," Vin replied, knowing that Chris was not happy with what had just happened and anxious to placate him.
"Let's not start that again, I think we've established that we're both sorry," Larabee interrupted brusquely. He was determined to get things back on their normal safe track at once.
"Reckon," Vin agreed quickly, fighting down the hurt he felt at Chris' tone.
"Right, let's get back inside, the others'll be wonderin' where in hell we've got to." Without waiting for a response he turned on his heel and headed out of the alley.
Vin's mind was whirling as he tried to cope with the conflicting emotions assailing him. He stumbled blindly along in the gunslinger's wake. Indeed, he was so busy trying to collect his thoughts that he forgot to hide his limp.
"What've ya done to him now, Chris?" Buck asked.
"What the hell do ya mean?" Larabee shot back, wondering uneasily for a moment if the scene in the alley could possibly have been observed.
"Well, I don't recollect he was limping before," Buck responded.
"Limping?" Surprised, Larabee swung back to look at the tracker, who had frozen at Wilmington's question, but before he could speak Nathan was already on his feet and hurrying across the room.
Jackson had had a very long day and had had very little sleep the previous night, as he had been in attendance upon a long and difficult birth. The last thing he felt like was a bout with the most obstreperous patient that it had ever been his misfortune to encounter. He knew only too well how the normally quiet and easygoing tracker became vocal and uncooperative when ill or injured. "What have you damn well done to yourself this time?" he demanded crossly.
Vin stared at him, stunned by the hostility in his voice. "N-Nothin'. It's okay. I-I've fixed it," he stammered.
"I'll be the judge of that. Sit down and get that damned boot off!" the healer snapped.
"No, it's all ri-"
He broke off as Nathan unceremoniously grabbed hold of his shoulders and pushed him firmly down into a chair. "Shut up and do as you're told for once!"
Vin looked up hopefully at Larabee, but there was no support coming from that quarter. "Just get yer damned boot off like Nate says," the gunslinger ordered.
Wincing, the tracker complied to reveal the blood-soaked bandanna. "What on earth have you done, Vin?" JD asked, aghast at the sight.
"Nothin' much, kid. I just trod on a bit of glass in the river. It looks worse than it is."
"But there's so much blood. Yuk! It looks horrible!"
"JD, make yourself useful and go and get my medical kit," Nathan instructed, anxious to stop his unhelpful observations.
"Okay, Nate, I'll be right back," the young sheriff replied, taking off at speed.
Nathan peered at the bloody foot and ran a hand along the sole causing the tracker to flinch and bite his lip. "There's still glass in here," he announced.
"Cain't be much. I reckon I got most of it. The rest'll work its way out."
"Don't be ridiculous, Tanner," the healer said testily, "you can't walk on it like this and these larger gashes need stitching."
"They'll be okay, Nate," Vin insisted. "I just had to cut a bit to get ..."
"You cut?" Nathan interrupted. "What did you use?"
"My sheath knife, but I dipped it in the river first," he added hastily.
"Dipped it? You never learn, do you? Next thing your damned foot'll be infected and I suppose you'll be happy then."
"C'mon, Nate, yer bein' a bit rough on him," Buck intervened. He knew the healer only spoke out of concern, but could see the distress mounting in Vin's expressive blue eyes. 'The kid always takes that sort of thing too much to heart,' he thought sadly. He had not known the tracker long before he had observed Vin's tendency to accept any criticism of himself as merited, while being the least judgemental of men himself.
However, there was no reasoning with Jackson once he had worked himself up about something. "A bit rough?" he snapped. "I'd like to clip the damned young idiot round the ear. I'd do it if I thought it'd make any difference."
"Here's your bag, Nathan," a panting JD announced.
"Okay, we've wasted enough time so I'll explain about the job Judge Travis has for us while ya work on him," Larabee said dispassionately. The tracker was just one of his friends. That was all. There was no need to fuss over him because he had a few cuts. There would be no repeat of his absurdly emotional behaviour in the alley. It was just lucky that Vin took it so well. No doubt he was as embarrassed and mystified by what had happened as Larabee was.
Or was he? The gunslinger could distinctly recall Vin kind of snuggling in to him. Perhaps Tanner had somehow engineered the whole thing. The thought was ridiculous, but ... No! He had to forget the whole stupid, embarrassing episode and get back to the job at hand.
So Chris Larabee proceeded to fill the others in on their latest job and pointedly ignored Vin's discomfort, both at being treated in public and by the pain of the treatment itself.
Six members of an outlaw gang were being returned to stand trial for a robbery they had committed in Eagle Bend, which was part of the judge's circuit. They were being transported as far as Wellston by rail and Travis had asked Larabee to take his men to meet the train and escort them on from there. He also had some business he wanted Chris to conduct at a town about ten miles on from the railhead. Accordingly the plan was for Larabee and one of the others to leave a couple of days early to carry out that commission and then to rendezvous with the others at the railhead. Originally Larabee had intended to take Vin with him, but he now felt a need to distance himself from the tracker. Fortunately, he had an ideal excuse, as he knew that it would be better for Vin to give the cuts on his foot a chance to heal. Therefore he concluded, "Okay, Vin, ya'd better keep off yer foot for a couple of days so ya'll be with be with the second party. Who's comin' with me?"
It was unusual for Chris to throw such a decision open rather than just to tell them who was to do what and it caught the others a bit off guard.
"I will!" Jackson said hurriedly.
Larabee looked at him in some surprise. It was most out of character for Nathan to leave a patient.
Registering the look, the healer explained, "Vin will be okay if he keeps off the foot and I need to get away from this place for a bit."
Larabee nodded his assent and then said briskly, "Right, Buck, yer in charge of Tanner. See that he rests that foot. Tie him down if ya have to. We'll be off first thing tomorrow and the rest of ya follow on Wednesday. Josiah, ya'll have to hold the fort while we're gone."
"Well, assuming the matter is finally settled, may I suggest we partake of Mrs Martin's excellent repast," Ezra said.
Sanchez drew the gunslinger aside. "You don't think Vin ought to be the one to remain?" the preacher asked. "Not that I've any hankering for a long, hot ride, but since he's hurt ..."
"No, I don't think it'd be a good idea, Josiah. Some of the townsfolk don't exactly cotton to him. I reckon they're a bit scared of him what with him havin' been a bounty hunter and livin' with the Indians. I'm sure he would have no idea how to ask them for help if he needed it and I'm not sure they'd back him if there was trouble."
Josiah nodded sadly in agreement. He feared that Larabee's reading of the situation was all too accurate and could not help wondering just what it would take for the townsfolk to fully accept the Texan. 'Probably something as major as it would take for Vin to understand them,' he reflected wryly.+ + + + + + +
Larabee and Jackson departed at first light. As usual, the only person to watch them go was the tracker. He raised a hand in silent salute from across the street, but did not approach them, fearing his likely reception.
When the gunslinger had announced that Vin was not to accompany him, the tracker's heart had contracted painfully. It had become virtually an accepted thing that Larabee took Tanner with him, so clearly Chris was very displeased. Vin had wanted to protest and say that his injury would not hamper him when riding, but there was no point. Chris never welcomed opposition, especially once he had made up his mind about something, and although the tracker was normally the only person who would dare his wrath on such occasions, he knew the gunslinger would not change his mind this time.
The tracker had spend a largely sleepless night, tossing and turning as he went over all that had happened the previous evening. Morning had found him still unhappy and confused about his best course of action to appease Chris. Not being good with words, he did not think asking to talk it over would work and anyway the suggestion might well rile Larabee further if he just wanted to forget the whole incident. So, in a way, Vin was pleased to see the back of the gunslinger.
Further, he also needed more time to try to come to terms with his newly recognized feelings for the gunslinger, without coming under the scrutiny of those soul-scorching green eyes. He had been aware of having a special bond with the gunslinger from the moment they first met, but had never for one moment thought about Larabee as more than a friend, his best friend admittedly, but that was as far as it went.
Of course, he knew he was being stupid. On reflection, he was certain Chris had acted impulsively to comfort a friend and had meant no more than that by his actions. Hell, Larabee had been married and there was no way that he was going to want a scruffy, longhaired ex-bounty hunter. Indeed, if he got even an inkling of the true extent of Vin's feelings, the tracker was certain he would no longer wish to associate with him. So Vin decided that he had to suppress his newfound love and try to keep things just as they had always been. If that proved too difficult, he would just have to leave rather than embarrass Chris.
Well, it was all very well to think these things, but it was another thing to resign himself to going without. It should have been easy. He had had enough practice. All his life he had had to accept that he could not have the things other people took for granted: a family, a home ... Hell, at times even a couple meals a day had been too much to hope for.
Normally he simply shrugged his shoulders and told himself he did not really need whatever it was that had caught his fancy. However, that did not seem to be working on this occasion. Yet this was the most ridiculously unobtainable want he had ever felt. The likes of him just did not get loved by someone like Chris Larabee. Hell, he should count his blessings that the man even tolerated his presence, let alone befriended him. And here he was risking that friendship, that had become the central factor in his life, for something he would never obtain in his wildest dreams. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! 'Ya just be grateful for what ya've got, Tanner, and don't cry for the damned moon,' he berated himself.
With all this on his mind, he was even quieter than usual, and as the day progressed, Buck found him an unusually docile charge. Indeed, the ladies' man was actually quite concerned about this out-of-character behaviour, and sensing that Vin was upset, although naturally mistaking the cause, tried to talk him out of his unhappiness. He sat down beside Vin and draped a companionable arm around Vin's slender shoulders, ignoring the tracker's immediate tensing at the touch. "Chris ain't mad at ya, ya know," he said. "He would've taken ya with him if yer foot had been okay."
"Yeah, I s'pose so," Vin rasped wistfully, his tone belying his words.
"I'm sure he would and ol' Nate ain't really mad at ya either. He'd just had a hard day. He'd have got grumpy at any of us. Ya were just the unlucky one."
"No, he was right. I know I ain't a good patient. I am grateful to him, Buck, but I just ... I just hate bein' fussed over. I dunno why, but iffen people touch me I feel ... I feel sorta ... sorta scared," he admitted.
Buck immediately started to surreptitiously slide his arm away. Of course, the tracker was all too aware of the movement, and afraid he had offended Wilmington, hurriedly said, "I'm sorry, Bucklin, I didn't mean ... aw hell! I didn't ... "
"No worries, Vin. JD always complains about me crowdin' him too. I just wanted to check ya were okay. Ya've been very quiet, ya know."
"I'm fine, Bucklin, I just want to get out of town. Ya know I hate bein' cooped up too long."
"Yeah, well we're off tomorrow, pard, so ya ain't got long to wait, lessen ol' Ez tries to sleep in as usual."
"I'll see he's up nice and early," Vin said, smirking as he contemplated all the possible methods of waking the gambler.
Buck grinned in response, but warned, "Well, don't do anythin' too drastic to him and wait until the sun is up at least or he'll moan all day."
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