Mexican Standoff
By: Rhicy
Last week on Magnificent Seven:
Chris, Vin and Ezra have been trying to help Inez' cousin, Helena Demarco. Apparently on the run from Don Diego, a penniless Mexican Don, Helena's troubles include Alvin Turner, a successful bank robber. Don Diego saves Helena from Alvin Turner, and Vin Tanner rescues her from Don Diego.
Despite everyone getting back in town safely, the trouble isn't over yet. Dirk Hefner, notorious outlaw arrives Four Corners, accompanied by Charles Temple, Josiah's brother-in-law. A brawl breaks out in the saloon, during which Josiah sees Charles Temple and Dirk Hefner stabs Sanchez. Both outlaws flee Four Corners. JD and Casey have gone on a picnic and have met up with Alvin Turner and his gang.
Part Two
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Wednesday - early afternoon
Secrets withheld:
The sharp staccato Chris' boots made as he climbed the stairs to Nathan's clinic echoed his raging emotions. He really felt like punching someone - again. The brawl had done wonders for his building anger but since the cause of his current anger wasn't resolved, he could feel the tension mounting again.
Mary Travis had waylaid him after he had completed a thorough patrol of the town, her blue eyes sparking with anger. What followed was an argument to end all arguments. Somehow, they managed to end up inside the Clarion, rather than make a complete spectacle of themselves, but still the fight had been a doozy. The thought of what had transpired was enough to make his blood boil, but there were no faces handy to provide Chris with a release.
Mary had point blank demanded to know what Chris had been doing coming out of Inez's room earlier. She had seen him hugging Inez at a time of the morning when most decent folk were still abed. Her accusatory tone and pointing finger had set his back right up and, while Chris probably would have told Mary about Helena anyway, now he was deadset on not doing so. He didn't know why Mary always seemed to bring out the best and worst in him and when the worst poured out, it came down in buckets. He refused to give her an answer, saying it was none of her business and if decent folk were in bed, what was she doing up?
Mary had given him a fair imitation of his own glare before snapping that as a reporter she needed to know what was going on in town. It was a poor reason - and a mistake to use the Clarion as justification for prying into Chris' life. It had caused them trouble before and now it just opened the floodgates. Chris accused her of using the Clarion to stick her nose where it wasn't wanted or needed and of being nothing more than a gossipmonger. Well, not in so many words, but Mary chose to hear it that way and it went rapidly down hill from there. Mary had ended the argument with tears in her eyes and Chris' feeling like a heel for putting them there. He had eventually stormed off, and as of yet he hadn't been able to put things right with her, since she was avoiding him like the plague and he was just getting angrier and angrier.
Rather than worry about Mary, Larabee focused on a more tangible target, one he could quite justly pursue with a vengeance. The two strangers who had knifed Josiah and killed an innocent passer-by were now the focus of his anger. Tanner and Standish had examined the young man who had been killed and had found out very little about him. Not even his name. He was dressed much like JD, only fancier, his clothes of expensive cut and material. His holster had been well cared for, the young man's leanness an indication of living through a few hard times. But who he was, where he had come from and why he was in town, remained a mystery.
As Chris climbed onto the landing of Nathan's clinic, he saw Vin leaning on the railing his eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Ezra was sitting on a bench, cards gliding through his fingers, as he too waited for news of Josiah. The trio waited in silence for about five minutes before Buck opened the clinic door and beckoned them in.
Josiah was laying on Nathan's bed, flat on his stomach as the healer finished placing a bandage over the knife wound. The big man seemed to be unconscious but as Chris asked how he was doing, Josiah opened his blue eyes and glared at his friends. Nathan sighed in exasperation and said, "The knife missed hitting anything vital and if Josiah just stays put he'll be fine. But …"
The 'but' was emphasised as Josiah slowly tried to get up, his face etched with pain but determined to leave the clinic.
"I ain't staying nowhere Nate. I got business to take care of." Josiah grunted as he continued to push himself upright, batting away Buck's offer of help.
"And what pray tell would this business entail, Mr. Sanchez?" Ezra spoke from where he leant against the doorway, watching as Josiah managed to sit up on the bed. Chris noted Josiah's pale face and shaky hands looking to Nathan for a reaction. Jackson was not happy but had learnt early on that Josiah would not be kept down if he didn't want to be. More times than not, the preacher had the strength to enforce his decisions, despite appearances.
Searching for his shirt, Josiah rumbled, "I plan on bringing in that dog before he gets away."
"You're not in any condition to be riding out after the guy who stabbed ya, Josiah. Best leave it to us," Buck suggested as he purposefully pushed Josiah's gun out of sight behind him. All Buck received in response to his concern was a flat stare from Josiah who continued to painfully dress himself.
"He able to ride, Nate?" the healer shook his head at Chris' question, unwilling to endorse anything that let Josiah out of his clinic. "Hell, we all know Josiah will ride with bullet-holes in him, let alone a knife wound. It'll just be a matter of time before he falls outta the saddle and we have to pick his sorry ass up off the ground."
"Or get shot at because we can't move fast enough," Chris added hoping to persuade Josiah to stay put. Ignoring the pain flaring in his lower back, Josiah snarled, "He ain't getting away."
Only Vin knew which of the men Josiah was talking about and as he stepped forward, he said, "You want him caught or not, Josiah?"
Sanchez's blue eyes met Vin's and tried to determine if the tracker was going to spill the beans about Temple. Still unwilling to risk Hannah, Josiah refused to accept the invitation in Vin's eyes to tell the others who he wanted so badly. So instead, Sanchez just glared at Vin, daring him to break his word and what he saw in Vin's stance sent a shiver of worry through him. There was something else driving the tracker and worry about Temple was only part of it.
"You know who it was that knifed ya?" Still not speaking the words that Josiah's eyes were asking him not to, Tanner watched Sancez shake his head in the negative.
"Dirk Hefner." Everyone in the room stared in shock at Vin. 'The' Dirk Hefner. The man who was responsible for countless bank robberies and murders, the man who carried a three thousand dollar reward on his head - had tried to kill Josiah? The man whose name rang with the infamy of ambushing an entire posse and killing every last soul. Not one to question his best friend, Chris still had to ask, "You sure?"
Vin's slight nod was all that was needed, Tanner was positive and the Seven were faced with a large problem. But the tracker wasn't done, "If we go after him, we can't afford to be toting somebody else's weight. Hefner is deadly, and if you want him stopped, you stay here."
Josiah knew exactly whom Vin meant by 'him', even if the rest of the boys thought Tanner was talking about Hefner. As much as Josiah ached to put an end to Temple's threat, Hefner changed everything. The danger was real or Tanner wouldn't have brought it up and Josiah knew that if he insisted on coming, Vin would tell the others why. Hiding something like that would put the Seven at a serious disadvantage, one Tanner had no intention of allowing. Torn, Josiah had to acknowledge that he would hamper the Seven, who were already a man short with JD out of town. They couldn't afford to be riding blind, nor with the liability of a wounded man.
Pushing aside his own emotions, Josiah nodded and even though he addressed all of his friends, his words were aimed at Vin, "Alright. I'll stay, but I don't want you coming back without him." He caught Vin's gaze and sent a silent plea for Vin to keep his promise and saw Vin nod imperceptibly even as the others sighed in relief.
"You lay back down and get some rest. I'll check on you just now," Nathan ordered as the rest filed out of the clinic. Josiah's response was unheard as Buck, Ezra, Chris and Vin headed down the stairs to the jail. As they walked across the street, Chris noticed how tense Vin was, his shoulders tight, and his jaw clenched. Normally the tracker was so relaxed, you thought he might be able to slide right out of his chair. Not now though, and Tanner was fingering the hilt of his knife as if he was itching to use it.
Vin's thoughts were awhirl with memories and plans. He had only ever seen Dirk Hefner up close once before, but his face had been etched into Vin's memory. Uncomfortable with keeping Josiah's secret, certain it would come back to haunt him, Vin decided that the others needed to know the whole story, and somehow keep Josiah's secret out of it.
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Picnic Area: Wednesday Afternoon
The tension was rife in the little glade where JD faced off with Turner. JD tried to slowly reach for his gun, but Swanson raised his firearm, cocked the pistol and drawled, "I wouldn't do that if I was you, sonny." JD stared at the young man, bristling a little at being called 'sonny' by someone who looked barely older than him. But Dunne kept his hands where the strangers could see them and Swanson soon turned to look at Casey. Turner and Dempsey were also ogling Casey who was beginning to blush under their attention. JD knew Casey well enough that she was not going to let them leer at her suggestively without some sort of reaction.
Sure enough, Casey soon snapped at the three men, "You lot better stop that! It's like you ain't never seen a girl before!"
Pete Dempsey, whose long curly black hair obscured most of his face, snorted with laughter and jeered, "Ain't never seen a girl dressed like she was a boy, that's fer sure!" Using their focus on Casey, JD quickly stepped between the three men and the girl, effectively blocking their view and preventing Casey from saying anything more. "Something we can help you with, fellas?"
JD tried to keep his voice cool and calm, maintaining eye contact with the leader who scowled at the shorter man in front of him. "You can start by getting out of my way, kid!" Now JD had been called 'kid' from the moment he had arrived in Four Corners. If it wasn't Buck ragging on him about some idiotic piece of advice, it was Chris coolly reminding JD of where he stood in the chain of command. That word 'kid' had been shouted at him, growled at him, said in friendship, anger, exasperation and in jest. Until now, JD had thought he had heard them all. The man before him, sitting slouched in his saddle, short red hair glittering in the late afternoon sun, spat out that 'kid' with such venom and malice that JD took an involuntary step backwards, moving Casey with him. Casey had also grown uncommonly quiet and she did not protest as JD moved protectively in front of her.
Alvin Turner glared at the young man protecting his 'girl', his posture un-cowed and defiant despite the slightly frightened look on his face. They had planned to wait at the river for Josh to get back from scouting out Four Corners. Turner tried to keep a low profile during their pre-job activities, it made it easier to disappear later. But it looked like it wasn't going to be the case today. For a moment Turner considered just shooting the kid and then having some fun with the girl before killing her too, but undoubtedly the pair lived nearby, maybe even in town and he didn't want a posse on his tail for a double murder.
Pointing his gun straight at JD, Turner snarled, "You tell that pretty little girl behind you to unbuckle your gun belt and drop it on the ground. Now!" JD felt Casey stiffen behind him and knew she was going to protest so he whispered urgently, "Just do it Casey."
Nodding nervously, Casey reached around JD, still keeping him between her and the strangers, and unbuckled his gun belt. She let it fall gently to the leaf-covered ground and stepped back a little more. Turner motioned for the pair to move to beneath the tree and, as JD and Casey did so, Dempsey got off his horse and picked up the gun belt. Pulling out one of the Colts, Pete whistled in admiration at the shiny pistol. "Would you look at that? The snot-nosed kid has been playing with real guns! And purty ones too." Dempsey swung the Colt onto his trigger finger and pointed the gun at JD. "You ever been shot, kid? Wanna know what it feels like?"
JD simply stared at Pete who was grinning widely, clearly enjoying himself. "Knock it off, Pete, and check out that hamper," Turner barked.
Without taking his eyes off JD, Dempsey pretended to shoot both JD and Casey and then blew imaginary smoke from the gun. "Sure thing, Vin."
Turner and Swanson also dismounted and sent their horses to graze near JD and Casey's. Soon the trio of strangers were gorging themselves on the contents of Nettie's hamper while the hungry pair watched. Fried chicken, fresh fruit, biscuits, apple pie, bread and peach preserve were devoured in short order. The meal that would have been more than sufficient for two young people and it was just enough to whet the three large men's appetites. JD had seated himself protectively in front of Casey and it was with a watering mouth that he watched as their lunch disappeared.
Swanson and Dempsey taunted and teased JD and Casey throughout the meal. Turner just ate his share before knocking off Swanson's hat, revealing a small bald patch on the young man's head. "Hey watch it, Vin!" Joe Swanson exclaimed, pulling his hat back onto his head, covering up his prematurely balding hair.
Ignoring his embarrassed friend, Turner pointed a drumstick at JD. "You two just sit there and stay quiet and nothing'll happen to you, alright?"
They both nodded, although JD wished he could do something more than simply sit there. But after spending many months working with dangerous men and deadly situations, JD knew not to provoke a situation when you were at a disadvantage. He had been disarmed, and still had to protect Casey somehow and if following Turner's orders kept her safe - so be it. He could swallow his pride and take all the taunts - after all Buck had given him enough practice in that area.
The trio of strangers settled themselves around the tree and Dempsey immediately fell asleep. Swanson looked like he was also about to drift off, resting his head against his saddle and belching loudly. Turner fingered his short red hair, making the sweat stiffened hair stand up in matted spikes. He studied JD and Casey with a cool eye, noting that both kids seemed willing enough to stay put. Rather than take a chance, he leant back on his elbows and kicked Swanson whose eyes were already closed. "Joe, you've got first watch."
Without opening his eyes, Joe Swanson groaned, "Aw hell, Vin." He made no further complaint but remained lying prone on the ground as if hoping his boss would leave him be. Turner kicked Swanson again and barked, "Get up and watch them two. Now."
Muttering something about uppity kids, Swanson rolled to one side and clambered to his feet. He walked over to a flat rock, sat down and drew his gun. Pointing the pistol at their unwilling guests, Joe got settled to keep watch. Turner lay back onto the leafy ground and pulled his hat over his face. From beneath the battered Stetson, Turner said, "And keep your hands to yourself, Joe. You start a party without me and I'll skin you alive."
Seemingly unperturbed by his boss' threats, Swanson kept his gaze fixed on Casey. JD shifted a little to block his view and Swanson lifted his pistol in response. Shaking his head, Swanson indicated for JD to move back and, when the kid didn't, Joe tightened his finger on the trigger. "Iffen I got to watch you two, I'm gonna make sure that I watch something pretty. Move!"
"Jist shut up Joe!" Turner's sleepy voice ordered, "Jist shut the hell up."
Making sure that Swanson couldn't see the movement, Casey patted JD's back affectionately and whispered, "You got a plan JD?"
JD shook his head slightly and whispered quickly, "Not yet." Casey settled herself to lean against JD, almost completely hidden from view.
As a burgeoning teenager, Casey had always thought herself tough enough to deal with any man. Her childish illusions had been shattered during the incident with Guy Royale when an overwhelming fear had blossomed that maybe she couldn't handle everything. The Nichols brothers had only added to her confusion and fear - especially since she had seen how wonderful and terrible the same man could be. The lady bounty hunters had stirred up even more insecurity, particularly when Maddey had shot JD. As life continued to teach her its many lessons, Casey was slowly accepting them, and right now she was very frightened. She may have blustered a little today, defying these strangers, but there was definitely something in the way that all three men were looking at her that sent Casey scurrying to hide behind JD. She and JD may have been arguing only moments ago, but she wouldn't have had anyone else with her right now. Ok, maybe the rest of the Seven would be nice, but all she had was JD, and Casey knew that that would be enough.
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Secrets Revealed
The regulators gathered inside the empty saloon, waiting a few moments for Nathan to join them. Once the healer had done so, Ezra asked, "Do we have any idea who the second miscreant is - perhaps a toady of Hefner's?"
Buck shrugged, "Didn't get a good look at him, although I did see the mess he made of that cowboy's face." Buck nodded at the puddle of blood on one of the broken tables.
"Charles Temple."
Buck and Ezra looked at Chris for an explanation. "He's not exactly the most well-know outlaw you're likely to meet - but up in New York and Illinois, he's got a reputation for being a ruthless bastard."
"And since he started riding with Hefner, he's come into his own - proved to be as vicious as Dirk Hefner on his worst day," Vin added.
"Charming - we are about to ride after two known criminals with a history of vindictive mayhem. Marvellous," Ezra said, "Absolutely marvellous."
Chris turned to Vin and asked, "Anything else we need to know?" Vin nodded and pulled a map of the area closer. Pointing at the little dot that represented Four Corners, Vin said, "They left town heading north, but they'll turn and head south the moment they clear the trail. Hefner's gang is supposed to be holed up in some pueblo on the border and they were more than likely heading there anyway. We gotta catch 'em before they get anywhere near there, Hefner's second will have scouts watching the road in and we don't want the whole gang coming down on us to rescue them two."
Larabee studied the map, frowning at how little their time frame was. "They'll reach that pueblo by tomorrow afternoon then."
Tanner shook his head, indicating to a mark on the map, "It'll take 'em longer, Beggars Canyon will slow 'em up, you gotta be real careful in going through but it takes twice as long to go around."
Ezra and Buck moved to see the map as well, and Nathan said, "So they'll reach the canyon by nightfall and wait to use the whole day to get through it."
"Reckon so."
"So if we push it and reach Beggars Canyon after nightfall, we'll be right on top of them."
Vin nodded at Buck, "That's the plan. If Hefner gets into the canyon, it'll be that much harder to drive him out. Dangerous too."
Instantly Chris picked up on the quiver in Vin's voice and looked up at the tracker. Tanner's eyes were focused on the map, but he was seeing something very different. "Vin?" The question was a gentle invitation for Tanner to open up, speak what was obviously on his mind.
Nathan, Ezra and Buck stared at Vin, finally picking up what Chris sensed. There was something about this chase that had Vin on edge. Only because his friends had been around him long enough, could they see the signs that he was nervous, a slight tightening around his eyes, normally still fingers, twitching near his knife.
Vin didn't look at any of them, his mind trapped for an instant in the past, images of rearing horses, men shouting, blood seeping into the ground playing across his memory. Blinking back the moment, Vin sighed, "I was with 'em, with the posse that Hefner ambushed."
Puzzled, Buck blurted out, "I thought that they were all killed!"
Vin shrugged still not looking at Buck and muttered, "Weren't in no condition to set 'em right, didn't care to afterwards."
The implications of that statement were ominous. What exactly had happened? "Perhaps you should enlighten us as to what occurred, Vin. Tell us how you escaped what by all reports was a massacre," Ezra suggested, watching as Vin flinched slightly in response.
"Ain't much to tell." Vin's reluctance was palpable but before any of them could press him further, Tanner shrugged and began his story, "I had only just started bounty hunting and had taken a bounty into Gulch Junction when Hefner's gang hit the bank. The sheriff needed a tracker and offered to pay double on the bounty I had brought in if I tracked Hefner for 'em. No one else wanted the job, and I needed the money."
Flashback:
Gulch Junction:
The noon sun was beating down on the town, its oppressive heat enough to send any sensible folk indoors. But the inhabitants of Gulch Junction were not inside their stores or fancy saloon. Instead the entire town population, as well as many of the men from the outlying ranches, were gathered in front of the courthouse. Mayor Hobbs, a tall impressively built man who had fought a vicious campaign during the last elections to become Mayor was determined to take charge of the situation. His booming town was in an up-roar. Not more than 3 hours ago, the Hefner gang had ridden into town, converging from several directions to storm the bank.
Two deputies were dead, as well as a local rancher who had tried to stop one of the masked outlaws from taking his hard-earned money, as he stood in line at the bank. The town's diminutive sheriff, Toby Olsen was standing next to the Mayor, trying to make himself look taller as the Mayor towered over him.
The crowd of townsfolk and ranchers were busy cheering their Mayor as he promised them that the Hefner gang would be caught. A few more cheers were given when he said that a posse was going to hunt those outlaws down "… like the dogs they are!"
"And the men of Gulch Junction are just the brave souls to do it!"
You could have heard the old codger sitting in a rickety chair on the saloon porch fart following that statement. An uneasy silence fell over the entire town as the Mayor waited for volunteers to come forward. Nobody moved.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen. This is no time to be shy! Our fine sheriff here will be leading the posse!" Sheriff Olsen paled visibly at Mayor Hobbs words, his mouth falling open like a fish and he stepped forward hesitantly, trying to get the Mayor's attention. But Mayor Jeremiah Hobbs Jr. was in no mood to listen to his cowardly sheriff. Ignoring Olsen, Hobbs shouted, "There is a one thousand dollar reward on Hefner alone! I know for a fact that there are many of you who could use that sort of money!" Hobbs changed his tactics when the crowd refused to get excited at the prospect of a reward. "I shouldn't have to coerce you - are you men or mice? Hefner needs to be brought to justice before he strikes again. Three good men died defending this town - are you going to let their deaths be for nothing?"
One voice shouted above the murmur of the crowd, "What about the army? Let them chase Hefner down - they want him too!"
Speaking quickly to cut off that idea, Mayor Hobbs bit out sarcastically, "Of course - let the army take care of us - as if we were a bunch of no account sissies who can't wipe our own asses without the army guarding 'em!"
That comment got a few more murmurs and as Mayor Hobbs continued to harangue the crowd, more and more men pushed their way to the front. The old codger sitting on the saloon porch spat out a stream of tobacco juice that narrowly missed the dusty boot of the stranger standing next to him. "Dang fools," he muttered as the Mayor managed to get a cheer out of the crowd again. "He's gonna get them all riled up and send 'em after one of the meanest bastards around and then stay safe and sound in his feather bed. Buncha idiots."
The stranger didn't answer the old man, which was fine with him. He didn't need an audience to start expounding his views of life, he was known to spend hours talking to nothing at all, cussing the air as it disagreed with him. He had more of a chance of getting an intelligible answer out of flesh and bone, even if it was just a sigh from the stray dog that sat under his feet occasionally.
"Yip, that Hefner is one slippery son of a gun and he ain't gonna be easy ta follow." The Mayor's voice boomed out across the street again, announcing that the sheriff had arranged for a tracker to join the posse. Another cheer greeted those words and a few more men pressed forward.
"What sorta pea-brained idiot did they con into that? Any tracker worth his salt ain't gonna go after the Hefner gang without at least the army behind him."
The stranger continued to lean against one of porch railings, his entire posture relaxed onto the wooden support. The old man continued muttering, "I reckon they musta got some half-assed wanna-be tracker who don't know the difference between a train track and bear paw. Or - some youngin' trying to prove himself - hmph - only get himself killed is all."
Roughly twenty men had agreed to join the posse and they were all gathered around the Mayor and Sheriff Olsen grinning as the crowd cheered them. One of the ranchers asked the Mayor something and the Mayor pointed at the stranger, who tipped his hat at the posse. His soft voice could only be heard by the old man, "Reckon I'm that pea-brained idiot."
The old codger gave the stranger another appraising look before muttering, "Then it ain't being pea-brained, just stupid, son - the money ain't worth it."
Vin just shrugged and continued to watch the townsfolk, who were now talking loudly about the prospect of their town becoming famous for catching Hefner. "You a scout?" the old man asked.
"Bounty-hunter."
Peering up at Vin again, the old man said, "Ya don't look the type, kid. But I reckon it make's a little more sense now - you're in the right kind of work already for taking on stupid chances for a lot of cash."
Without looking at the wrinkled old man, Vin smiled, "Sheriff's holdin' out on paying me my last bounty unless I go with 'em."
Grinning broadly, the old man laughed, "That sounds like our fine up-standing sheriff - suppose he mentioned something like investing in the town's growth and some rot like that?"
"Yip."
"He he, son, you watch your back. I figure you know your own business - but that Olsen is a prickly short-a-nothing, you just tread light around him. He don't look like much - but he is sheriff for a reason."
"Thanks for the warning."
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The posse was not happy. Three days into the chase and still no sight of Hefner's gang. Oh, they had come close a few times, nearly catching them as they slept, but Hefner's own Indian-trained man had alerted them and they had escaped the posse. Sheriff Olsen was getting desperate, his posse wanted to go home. Made up mostly by townsfolk and ranchers, the men all had lives they wanted to get back to and this chase was proving to be more difficult than he had thought.
When Dirk Hefner and his gang had rode into town, the Sheriff hid in the grocery store, too afraid to face Hefner without backup. A wise choice, some people might say, after all Hefner had a reputation of killing any lawmen that stood in his way. But to offer no resistance as the outlaws plundered the town, was cowardice. Two of his deputies had been killed in the robbery, bravely protecting the populace.
Only the clerk, hiding behind the same counter knew that Olsen had cowered in terror whilst the gang rode roughshod through the town. To everyone else, Olsen had talked of a brave struggle with an outlaw who had waylaid him, even as he ran to help his deputies.
Olsen's dreams of attaining the fame he craved were slipping away. His growing fabrications of the fight in town, where the single outlaw had evolved into an entire portion of the gang who had been spared his wrath only because he ran out of ammunition, were growing harder and harder to swallow. At one point of the three-day journey, the sheriff had even suggested that he had wounded a few of the outlaws. The tracker, a man named Tanner, had quietly burst that lie, by drawling in his soft voice that there were no signs of any wounded men, let alone graves to mark a fatal shot.
Caught out in his lie, the Sheriff quickly covered himself with a few more excuses and had ordered the posse onwards. Supplies were running low and tempers even shorter as Hefner's gang led the posse on a twisted chase, trying to shake them, but Tanner was their equal. Olsen didn't dare vent his frustration on his posse, he couldn't afford to alienate them. That left the tracker, who was being well paid for his time.
The sheriff constantly harassed Tanner, arguing with him about the trail and where to expect the outlaws. He over-ruled the tracker on numerous occasions, refusing to take his advice on possible plans. As a result, the man had become isolated from the rest of the posse. Already a stranger to the townsfolk, Tanner found himself on the outside of the group and, for all appearances, didn't seem to mind the situation at all. In fact, he appeared to welcome it. That is until the posse reached Box Canyon.
The canyon was well-named. It had only one entrance and anybody stupid enough to wander in, had only one avenue of escape, back the way they came. Tanner rode into the camp early on the fourth morning to hear Sheriff Olsen arguing with Pete Green. Green had been the loudest voice clamouring to go home and it sounded like he was getting louder.
"I have better things to do than just following you around on this glory-ride you are so set on, Olsen!"
Dwarfed by Green, Olsen shouted up at the rancher, "No one forced you to come along Green. But I sure as hell ain't gonna let you turn tail just cos' you can't see a thing through!"
Justin Bates, another rancher and neighbour of Green's, intervened by saying, "Now, Sheriff, you gotta understand. We got livestock to brand and crops to get in. It ain't that we're chickening out but this is going on too long."
"Too long! Too long! You ever been in a posse before, Bates?" Olsen screeched, his face turning red with anger. Without giving Bates a chance to answer, the sheriff continued, "I have been in hundreds of posses! One that even lasted a month as we chased those varmints down! Three days! Three days is all you lilly-livered cowpokes are gonna give me?"
In the angry silence that followed the sheriff's words, Olsen knew he had gone too far. Sputtering to try and rectify his error, he spotted Tanner who was leaning against his horse, watching the entire scene with an amused smile on his face. Whirling on the tracker, desperate to get the attention off himself, Olsen snapped, "So what did you find this time? And ya damn-well better not have any more excuses!"
His now-tight smile still in place, Tanner's eyes went cold and hard at the sheriff's words. He had had just about enough of the sheriff. Vin would have packed up and left on the first day out 'cept that the sheriff still owed him for the bounty, and he couldn't just leave the posse to fumble through this alone. None of the men knew this area and any maps of the region were sketchy at best. So forcing himself to stay despite the sheriff's barbs and comments, Vin had tried to lead the posse straight to Hefner. It hadn't been easy for the bounty hunter, with the sheriff second-guessing him every time, taking the posse on different routes than the one he advised, refusing to acknowledge Vin's experience in the wild.
Taking a deep breath, Vin said, "They've taken a high trail over the hills yonder. If we wanna stay on top of 'em, we had better leave now. If they make it into the badlands …"
Olsen brushed aside Vin's concerns with a sharp, "Where's that map, boy?" Jeremy Hobbs, the Mayor's son, quickly handed the map to the sheriff. Mayor Hobbs had insisted that his son accompany the posse even though the boy was reluctant to do so. Mayor Hobbs felt that it was time for his son to grow a backbone and stop snivelling behind his mother's apron strings. A small boy of fifteen, Jeremy had a sharp mind but was completely over-shadowed by his older, more robust brothers. Jeremy was a disappointment to his father and the whole town knew about the strained relationship they shared.
None of the townsfolk were willing to cross the Mayor, and the general attitude of ignoring the boy had extended to the posse. All the men save Vin viewed Jeremy as a nuisance, thrust on them by a father many respected, even if they didn't like him.
Snatching the map from the boy, the sheriff unfolded the paper. Peering near-sighted at the writing, the sheriff let out an exclamation of delight, "Ha! If we ride through Potter's Canyon below that trail, we'll come out ahead of them!" Pointing at Green in particular, Olsen crowed, "You boys want to end this - fine. We ride now through the canyon and we'll have them by sundown!"
The men, tired from three days of hard riding and mounting tension, let out a half-hearted cheer and half of them moved to mount up, eager for the ordeal to end. Even though his voice was meant to be only loud enough to be heard by the sheriff, Vin's words stopped every man. "Can't ride through that canyon. It's Box Canyon - not Potter's and it's got a dead end. We have to follow them up the trail."
The sheriff's voice wasn't the only one to rise in protest, but it was the loudest, "You've been out in the sun too long if you think we're gonna add any more days to this. This is our chance and we're gonna take it."
Tanner stalked up to the sheriff, closing in on the small man. "That canyon don't go nowhere 'cept back out the way you came. Riding in there is asking for trouble." Vin still hadn't raised his voice, but his firm words spoke louder than any shout.
"And I think you're still trying to run this posse. I say the map is right and we can ride through!" Olsen thrust the map at Vin, shouting, "If you are so certain where we are and what canyon that is - prove it. Show it to me on the map!"
Vin blinked, briefly thrown by the sheriff's order, "I don't need a map to know where we are. You ride into that canyon and you'll loose Hefner."
"I'm beginning to think that maybe you're the reason we ain't catching Hefner!" The abrupt accusation caught Vin off guard and he stepped back from the bristling sheriff. "Maybe you're leading us wrong in order to … I don't know, go after him yourself. Get the bounty on him. Or maybe", and the sheriff positively beamed with delight, "You're working with him - letting him get away!"
At those words, Vin got right up in Olsen's face, their hat brims touching they were so close. The rest of the posse drew closer, suddenly concerned for the diminutive sheriff. Tanner had proven to be a tough individual but they still knew very little about him. Grabbing a fistful of the sheriff's shirt, Vin drew the small man up to his eye level, "I've had about enough of you. You wanna ride to nowhere - fine. But leave me outta it." Shoving the sheriff away from him, Vin drew his mare-leg and backed to his horse. Picking himself up off the dirt, the sheriff shrieked, "Don't let him get away, he'll try and warn Hefner!"
Snorting in disgust, Vin said, "You boys listen up. I ain't led ya false and I sure as hell ain't working for Hefner. You keep on ahead through that canyon, and that slippery son of a gun will get away."
A few of the men hesitated at Vin's short speech, savvy enough to recognise the tracker for the expert that he was. But the up-start sheriff would not be swayed, "If you ain't working fer him, you won't object to showing us through that canyon."
"Ain't no if involved Olsen! I am right and if you are so set on going through, you do it yourself!"
Even though Vin had his firearm drawn, the little Sheriff drew his own six-shooter quickly and pointed it at Tanner. The sound of other pistols being cocked brought the level of tension even higher. Vin noted who had drawn their guns and who hadn't but the odds were against him any way. Reluctant to fire on men he had no quarrel; Tanner had hesitated when the sheriff drew his own gun, giving the impudent man the time to turn the tables on him.
Backing down visibly, putting his mare-leg back in its holster, Tanner shrugged and said, "You want me with you, ok. Just remember what I said when we come to a dead end."
The posse moved on soon after, with Tanner pretty much under armed guard. Immensely pleased to finally have his authority unquestioned, the sheriff had ordered three men to keep their guns on Tanner in case he made a break for it. Jeremy Hobbs stuck close to Vin as well, keeping close to the one man who would actually talk to him.
The pair had formed a fledgling friendship over the past three days and Jeremy was impressed with Vin's knowledge of the wild. The fact that the sheriff seemed to disparage the tracker's abilities only strengthened Jeremy's own admiration. And since Vin had not wanted to go into the canyon, Jeremy, urged by a child's natural instincts, felt he should stick close to the tracker.
Box Canyon enjoyed a unique place in nature. Part of a series of canyons ranging west towards California, it hide itself among its more impressive brethren. A rider taking the seldom-travelled trail would suddenly find himself in a canyon of towering walls and twisted bends. One moment you were riding through hilly countryside, the next you were surrounded by mountainous rock. The canyon was deceptively easy to traverse, there was only one way forward and at its end, the walls appeared to lower and vanish, as if heralding the end of the canyon. Instead, the traveller would turn a corner and find a dead end. Sheer cliff face rose up towards the backs of the rest of the canyons, Box Canyon actually winding around itself until it ended with the low hills that initially started at it mouth. The high trail over the canyons meandered directly overhead and the frustrated traveller would be able to see his correct path right above him.
Sheriff Olsen had immediately crowed his delight, when he led the posse straight into the canyon. The passage between the rock faces was narrow, and the posse had to ride two abreast. At places the trail became so narrow that the stone brushed against horse withers and booted feet. Vin rode next to Jeremy, his keepers riding in front and behind him. The uneasy feeling that had urged him to challenge the sheriff's route had grown steadily as the posse rode through the canyon.
Studying the trail that he knew was above them, Vin could feel eyes watching them, but the high walls obscured his full view of the trail. The entire area was quiet, save for the sound of horses and men moving, even that muted by the soft sand underfoot. This canyon had been carved when the overflow from other canyons had spilled down its narrow defile. The soft river sand was old, no overflow occurring for centuries.
Riding ahead of the posse, like a mini Napoleon, Sheriff Olsen shouted over back to his men, his voice loud enough to carry to the rear, "We're nearing the end boys. We'll have that bastard soon." His voice still echoing through the canyon, Olsen turned the final bend and came face to face with the dead end. He was so shocked, that he didn't signal the riders behind him and, before anyone could slow down, the rest of the posse piled into the circular cul-de-sac.
Shouts of confusion and anger rose as the men realized that the sheriff had lead them into a dead end, and those in front tried to turn around. But the close press of horses and riders behind prevented that, as the men behind rode forward to see what the hold up was.
Near the rear of the posse, Vin didn't even smile at the congestion ahead. His senses were screaming at him that something was wrong and he tried to back his horse out of the press of the posse, even as he eyed the trail above. But to no avail, confusion reigned and no one could seem to sort the mess out. Men tried to turn around, while others took up available space to try and manoeuvre. Sheriff Olsen shouted above the confusion, even his loud voice garbled over the tumult.
Into that confusion, the first shot thundered. A lanky blonde rancher was the first to fall from his horse, blood spreading across his back. More bullets plunged into the melee, the rifle reports adding to the now panicked shouts of men who tried to leave the canyon. No one was spared as all around the rim of the canyon, outlaws fired on the posse. Horses reared up in pain as they too were targeted, knocking riders from their saddles. Those men at the rear of the posse tried to escape, but were cut down by a trio of outlaws laying down a deadly crossfire.
Caught in the gunfire of the entire Hefner gang, the posse were cut down methodically, most of the men peppered with multiple gunshot wounds. Olsen died in a blaze of blood as a bullet punched a hole through his chest, catapulting him off his wheeling steed, to fall under the hooves of his own horse. Green and Bates were the only two men to return fire at the outlaws, but were unable to see the men laying low on the trail above. Their return fire brought a hail of bullets onto them, both falling in jerky movements as bullets riddled their bodies.
The air was filled with the screams of men and horses, smoke from the outlaws guns and dust as hooves churned in the close quarters. With no way out and no surrender offered, Hefner led his men in a massacre, visibly urging his men to continue firing.
Vin had not been spared from the rain of death. Immediately after the first shot had been fired, Vin had forced his way to a rock wall, thus protecting him from one line of fire. But a bullet fired from the opposite side found its mark and Tanner bit back a cry as it thudded into his shoulder. Keeping a firm hand on his horse below him, Vin tried to make himself as small a target as possible.
Jeremy was pressed against Vin, following his lead in trying to cover his back. The young boy's eyes were wide with fear, his mouth open in a silent scream as all around him, men died, shot to pieces. The noise from the outlaws guns was rising like a relentless thunder, as the rapidly dwindling posse tried to escape. Either Jeremy was too terrified to notice the wound on his arm, or the boy was truly screaming in pain.
"Jeremy!" The boy turned to Vin, his terrified face close to the tracker's. "Get over here!" Motioning for Jeremy to climb onto his horse with him Vin helped pull the boy over. Jeremy was nearly seated in front of Vin, when Tanner felt the boy slump against him with a groan. Reaching around to steady Jeremy, Vin felt blood on the boy's shirt and knew he had been hit again. With so much gunfire thundering into the trap, Vin wasn't able to tell what shots were directed at their position. Desperate to save the boy, he pulled Jeremy over his saddle and onto the ground between Vin's horse and the wall. The boy slumped to the ground unconscious.
The bay beneath Vin was well-trained and was not rearing and wheeling around like other horses, which were adding to the chaos, before they too were shot. Tanner was about to dismount when a barrage of bullets hit him and his horse. The outlaws had mowed down the majority of the posse and were now focusing on those still standing. Two men, using their fallen horses' bodies as cover, were cut down by an unrelenting hail of fire. Two bullets struck Vin, one in his upper thigh, the other in his side. More bullets plunged into his horse, an unlucky one, killing the animal outright with a shot to the head.
Unable to move his wounded leg fast enough, Vin fell with the horse, right on top of the unconscious Jeremy. Vin had been so close to the rock wall, that the momentum of the fall, knocked his head against the stone and he lost consciousness to a wave of black nothingness.
A splitting headache and mounting pain brought Vin back to awareness and, as he blinked at the harsh sunlight, silence greeted his ears. Blinking rapidly to clear his blurry vision, the scene before him soon swung into focus. What he saw was a motionless array of bodies. Horses and men lay side by side, tangled up and beneath each other. Nothing moved, except the slow trickle of blood as it flowed from opened veins and wounds, collecting together to run in a red trickle down the natural slope of the canyon.
Vin drew in a deep breath and gasped as fire raced across his chest. He tried to move but he was pinned by the weight of his horse on his leg and when he tried to move his free leg, he had to bite back a scream as the bullet wound on his thigh flared to life. Licking his dry, dusty lips, Vin tried to remember what had happened as he fell. Feeling an unexpected softness beneath his upper body, Vin remembered falling onto Jeremy. Shuffling sideways, ignoring the pain, Vin tried to see the boy trapped beneath him.
Jeremy lay beneath Vin and his horse, his legs trapped by the lower portion of the horse. The tight quarters made it difficult for Vin to touch Jeremy's neck, but he managed to awkwardly bend his arm to check the boy's throat for a pulse. Vin's hand was shaking so badly, he couldn't find a pulse and his heart sank as he tried again. When Jeremy opened his eyes, Vin pulled back, startled and inadvertently pressed harder onto the boy. Gasping in pain, Jeremy turned to see Vin, right on top of him, the tracker's face slightly above him.
"Vvvinn?" His brown eyes were filled with fear as they stared straight at Vin and as he tried to move, his mouth opened in a gasp of pain. "Don't move, Jeremy. We don't know how the horse in laying on ya. Just lay still."
"Vinn, I .." Jeremy mouthed still struggling to free his arm trapped beneath the tracker. Grunting in pain as Jeremy managed to pull his arm free, Vin whispered, "Jeremy. Please don't move." Unaware of the pain he was causing Vin, Jeremy continued to struggle, pushing with his elbow to try and free himself. "I can't .. I can't … it hurts, Vin. It hurts."
"I know Jeremy but …" Jeremy wasn't listening. His eyes had been drawn to the scene of carnage beyond the sweat-covered rump of Vin's horse. All he could see was death, all around him, next to him, on top of him. Men he knew were lying in broken sprawls, their lifeblood seeping into the sand, sightless eyes staring up at the heavens. There was no sound in that terrible trap, and the silence was deafening in its own right after the storm of gunfire that had fallen upon the posse.
Jeremy didn't even try and fight the panic that rose within his breast, fed by the pain of his wounds. He hurt so much and all he wanted to do was get out of here, go home where it was safe and it didn't hurt anymore. If he didn't get free soon, he was so sure that he would never leave this death trap. "I gotta get … I gotta get out of here! Vin! VIN!" Vin could see the rising panic and tried to calm Jeremy down, but the boy wouldn't listen, his screams at Vin turning into just screaming, as he pulled and pushed trying to free himself. Vin could feel the boy's body moving beneath, muscles and tendons straining to break free of the dead weight of the horse.
"VIN! They're all dead! VIN!" Jeremy couldn't get free, try as he might and all he was doing in the process was hurting himself and Vin more.
"Jeremy, stop!"
Screaming in terror the boy lost it and flailed about, desperate to be free. Vin couldn't get through to him and tried to grab Jeremy's arm, to make a physical contact with the distraught boy. With a final, desperate plunge, Jeremy lurched backwards and something inside him seemed to break. Instantly he stopped moving, crying out in pain, clutching his stomach. All the energy seeped out of him, and Jeremy slumped on the ground, drawing in ragged breaths, sobbing brokenly.
Pushing back his own pain, Vin tried get his attention, "Jeremy, it's gonna be alright. Just lay still."
"Vin, it hurts." The boy's voice was a pain-filled whisper and Vin saw him squeeze his eyes shut as tears escaped from the corners. "I'm sacred, Vin."
"I know you are, but we're gonna make it, we just gotta…"
The rest of what Vin was going to say died on his lips as the unmistakable sound of riders approaching reached them. Jeremy's eyes brightened at the prospect of help arriving and Vin barely managed to cover the boy's mouth in time to prevent his call for help emerging. "Shhh, not until we know for sure who it is."
Nodding, Jeremy gulped in air as Vin removed his hand, before settling down on top of Jeremy, laying as if he were dead. "Sorry." Both apologised at the same time and Vin flashed the boy a weak smile before motioning him to lay back.
Despite the tension of waiting, Jeremy's eyes closed, either trusting in Vin to keep him safe or in too much agony to stay awake longer than necessary. Vin alternately checked on Jeremy and the opening in the dead end, just by moving his eyes as he lay perfectly still. He just hoped that the riders hadn't heard Jeremy's screams earlier.
Three riders appeared, pistols in hand. Vin recognised Hefner from the sheriff's description. A short man, slight in build, Hefner had a pointed sort of face, with long dark blonde hair reaching his shirt collar. He had the look of a street tough and it was rumoured that he had grown up on the streets of Liverpool before coming to America. But there was no trace of a British accent when he ordered his men to search for any survivors.
"Check 'em all. Don't want a fresh posse chasing down on us again." Dirk laughed then, a short nasty guffaw as if the sprawl of broken, bloodied bodies before him was something he was proud of. Vin felt Jeremy jerk at Hefner's order, but he couldn't risk moving to reassure the boy. They were trapped against a wall not too far from Hefner and while many of the posse lay between them and Hefner, any movement would be seen.
Closing his eyes, Vin lay as limp as he could and listened to the sound of the two outlaws picking their way through the bodies. One of them was about two metres from Vin's horse when he shouted, "Hell, Dirk, ain't any of 'em alive! We waited long enough on top to spot any of 'em movin' and this is jus stupid!"
Trying to take breaths as shallow as possible, Vin waited anxiously for the man to move on.
" 'Sides, if they are faking it - they ain't got a chance of surviving without help arriving soon. Let's get outta here."
Hefner considered his options for a moment before shouting, "Fine, get on back here. We don't want the rest of the boys getting too far ahead. We got some celebrating to do." With that the two outlaws hurried back to their horses, uncaring of who or what they stepped on. Mounting up, the trio rode out of the canyon leaving the mass grave for the buzzards.
Waiting for the sound of the hoof beats to disappear, Vin moved giving Jeremy some space to breathe. "It's all clear. Now how about we get to freeing ourselves?" Vin turned to look at Jeremy and saw that the boy was still lying limp and sallow. "Jeremy?" Again reaching to touch the boy, Vin felt Jeremy's face, which was slack and relaxed, and realized that he wasn't breathing. "Kid!" Shaking his head, Vin tried to manoeuvre himself off Jeremy but by the time he had painfully managed to slide down behind Jeremy, Vin knew that the boy was dead.
"Ah hell, kid."
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"So who helped you?"
Vin chuffed softly as if surprised that Buck had to ask the question. "No one. It took me a while but I managed to get free of my horse and I walked out that canyon. Ran into an old trapper who took me half dead to the nearest town where a doc patched me up. He never asked what happened and I never told him."
"Damn, Vin!" Nathan exclaimed, shocked at how close Vin had come to death. Again Vin just shrugged, as if his incredible effort to live was unremarkable. "Heard later that Mayor Hobbs had found what was left of the posse, and declared everyone accounted for. Said anyway that a survivor was sure to be part of the Hefner gang so I stayed quiet."
Chris shook his head in amazement and muttered, "Now Hefner's here. Why did he knife Josiah?"
Vin shrugged, mindful of his promise to Josiah but answered truthfully, "Your guess is as good as mine, pard. I can't recollect any reason why Hefner would wanna kill Josiah and if Josiah knows - he ain't talking."
"Josiah can play his cards about as close as Ezra does on occasion. But we still gotta get after Hefner and Temple," Nathan said, watching as Ezra shuffled the cards in question.
"Indeed, Mr. Jackson, after hearing of Mr. Tanner's last harrowing encounter with Dirk Hefner, we are all as eager to chase down that man as a bather is to enter shark-infested waters. I for one volunteer to remain and protect the town from any transient ne'er-do-wells."
Buck grinned at Ezra and it wasn't a pleasant smile. The Southerner looked a little shocked at Buck's intense expression and resisted the urge to swallow nervously, "Mr. Wilmington? Something the matter with my suggestion?"
Still grinning nastily, Buck growled, "Nope, nothing wrong with it, except that there is no way in hell you're staying in town alone with Inez!"
Chris and Vin stared at Buck in surprise while Nathan just laughed. Ezra didn't know whether to smile or prepare to defend himself. Buck looked ready to pounce on the gambler and beat - something - out of him. Nathan noted Vin and Chris' confused expressions and chuckled, "Buck spotted Ezra kissing Inez this morning and he seems a might put out."
"Oh, I'm more than a might put out!" Buck growled, and Ezra found himself taking a step backwards, away from the glowering gunfighter. Vin kept his expression neutral for the moment but Chris looked a little flushed, as if Ezra's predicament reminded him of something else. Ezra was desperately trying to think of something to divert Buck's anger from him, short of digging himself deeper, when the lady behind all the trouble made her entrance.
Helena Demarco, dressed in a deep red blouse and a beautiful full black skirt made her way down the stairs from Inez's room. Buck's jaw may have well hung open in amazement his attention was so fixed on Helena. Ezra and the kiss were forgotten in the presence of this beauty and Buck leapt from his seat like Helena was a magnet that he had no choice but to fly at. Helena's dainty foot had barely touched the saloon floor and Buck's lips were pressed against her hand.
"How a beauty as dazzling as yours did not send this saloon up in a burst of fireworks, I'll never know. You, lovely lady, are surely the finest of God's creations."
Helena's smile was perfect, sincere but flattered, delighted but confident and Buck fell for it, like a tonne of bricks. His own devilish grin was wide enough to split his face and he was about to expound on the further merits of Helena's magnificence when Ezra's struggle to contain his laughter broke the moment.
Buck turned and shot a warning glance at the gambler who had to lean onto the bar, slapping it softly as he laughed soundlessly, his mirth so great that none of his laughter could emerge. Vin and Chris were also smiling broadly while Nathan was biting his lip trying not to laugh. Because, standing in the door of the kitchen, her hands resting on her hips, and her expression furiously indignant, was Inez. Judging by her angry glare she had been standing there long enough to hear Buck grill Ezra about their kiss and then see the ladies man practically stumble over his feet trying to get to Helena.
Buck stared at Inez, finding her angry countenance, as usual, just as attractive as when she was smiling at him. His hand still clasping Helena's suddenly felt very sticky and Buck found himself torn. Two beautiful women, one he had been pursuing with vigour and one, so beautiful he found it hard to breathe. What to do? Inez seemed to think that Buck was taking too long and she stormed back into the kitchen, cursing all the while in Spanish. His first instinct was to follow Inez and try and explain, and he actually took a step forward before Helena's soft voice whispered, "Going somewhere, cowboy?"
His mind racing to find an excuse, Buck stammered, "Wait right there, darlin', I won't be a minute!" With that Buck raced around the bar and into the kitchen, closing the door behind him. Helena laughed softly and moved towards Vin whose smile froze as she approached him.
Within the kitchen, they could hear Inez's voice rising, with Buck's lower baritone trying to clam her down and, before Ezra could even collect himself, Buck was running back out of the kitchen, as if the hounds of hell were after him. Inez's voice shrieked in his wake, "That is not the point, Buck!" And soon the fiery lady appeared, frying pan in hand, which she pointed it at the unlucky scoundrel, "I don't care what you do, Buck Wilmington! But you will keep your fat nose out of my business!"
Buck nodded quickly and hurried out of the saloon, for the second time that day, too embarrassed to stay.
"Oh, my dear Inez, that was priceless, truly priceless." Ezra laughed, clutching his side.
Inez snapped at Ezra, "You stay out of this! You have caused enough trouble as it is!" And with that Inez disappeared back into the kitchen.
Helena was about to slip her arm through Vin's when he turned to face Chris. "We better head off now, before Hefner gets too far ahead. Find Buck and we'll meet you at the livery."
Vin nodded and moved away from Helena. He gave her a quick smile before leaving the saloon. Ezra was still chuckling and was leaning over the bar trying to reach the expensive brandy when Chris caught the back of his collar and pulled the protesting gambler from the saloon. "Come on, Iago, we've got a job to do."
"But Mr. Larabee I…."
Nathan found himself alone with the strange lady, and suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. Helena looked out of the saloon doors, in the direction that Vin had gone and, without a word to Nathan, turned and went into the kitchen.
Flummoxed by her behaviour, Nathan pulled on his hat and muttered, "It's never anything easy with this lot."
