Guest Starring:
Lee Marvin as Jake Peters
Tom Selleck as Baker Campbell
Dirk Benedict as Jesse
Watsonville
Jake Peters leaned against the bar and listened to the conversations around him. Watsonville was a small town and had little interest for the gunslinger. The people shied away as soon as they saw his tied down guns and the spark of danger in his eyes. His dark brown orbs darted around the room as he searched for and found his mark. He was bored and needed someone or something to keep his mind and hands sharp. The kid was fast, faster than anyone had ever seen, but he needed to be sure. This stop was just a testing ground on his way to his real mark.
Peters' gaze came to rest on the person he would test himself against. The intended victim was young, possibly twenty, blond hair, blue eyes and an air of innocence about him, yet Peters had seen how easily he lost his temper. He was seated with three other men, playing poker and enjoying a beer. Jake had been in town two days now and knew the background of the kid at the table. He'd made it a point to know who was in town and who was fast with a gun. The 'boy' was one of the fastest, and the gunslinger had seen the evidence of that when he followed him out of town and watched him practice.
Peters listened to parts of the conversation and knew the young man was to be married in a few days. For him this just made things better. His reputation as a black hearted gunslinger for higher was well known in the east, but there was always one or two men who were faster than him. Jake wanted to make sure his name was remembered and this trip west was a way to ensure that it was. He smiled at the thought of killing the man whose reputation was so well known. The true test would be against Chris Larabee, whose fast draw was spoken of even in the east. For now, Peters' was content to test himself with this kid. The gunman shook himself as laughter came from the little table in the corner. The time had come for this young man to die.
He picked up his drink and downed it in one gulp, grimacing as the whiskey burned a trail down the back of his throat. He licked his lips, ordered a beer, threw a coin on the bar and walked towards the table.
"I hear you're getting married, Kid," he sneered.
Billy Smith looked at the tall man standing beside the table. The voice was smooth and silken, but it belied the rest of what he saw. The face was clean-shaven, showing a scar along the left side of his chin, the nose looked like it had been broken more than once and the eyes held a cold glint. Billy wasn't one to be frightened easily and he smiled in spite of the fear this man produced in him. "Sure am, Mister."
"Maybe you should introduce me to your young lady, so I can show her what a real man is like before she marries a wet behind the ears 'boy' like you!" Peters stated softly, and hid a smile as the place went deadly quiet and all attention was turned on him and the kid seated at the table. Jake watched as the kid slid his chair back and began to stand. He smiled as an older man placed a hand on the kid's arm.
"He's jest tryin' to goad ya into a fight, Billy. Don't let 'im git ta ya."
Peters watched as his mark sat back in the chair. "So, ya gotta listen ta yer grandpa, Kid? Does he still wipe yer nose fer ya too?" The gunslinger smiled as the anger flared on the young face. "Does he also git ta check out yer young woman fer ya, too?"
"You lousy son of a bitch!" Billy shouted as he stood up.
The two men were oblivious of the sounds around them. The patrons of the saloon dove for cover, knowing what was to come and not wanting to stop a bullet with their own body. Chairs and tables topple as men tried to find cover before the two men drew their guns. The swinging doors squeaked as two men hurried through them. The only noise in the room was the sound of silence as the two men glared at each other.
Billy's complete attention was centered on the man in the white duster. His breathing grew deeper as he faced the gunslinger. His right hand twitched as he made to draw.
Peters watched his foe, waiting for the signs that would tell him his mark was going to draw. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes, as the kids fingers twitched slightly. His own hand moved quickly and his gun was out of the holster even as the kid cleared leather. Only one shot sounded and the crouching men watched as the two figures remained standing.
Billy Smith didn't make a sound as he looked down at his chest. Fear shone in his eyes as he watched the blossoming blood stain. His eyebrows narrowed as he realized there was no pain. His gun toppled to the floor, the sound it produced louder than the gunshot seconds before. Billy's head came up once more as his eyes rolled back in his head. He swayed as if a strong breeze pushed against his body and fell heavily to the floor.
The saloon quickly came back to life as men stood up and looked from the body on the floor to the man standing with his gun held in his hand.
Peters smiled as he heard whispered comments around him.
"That was fast!"
"Ain't seen nothin' like it!"
"Thought Billy woulda been able ta take 'im!"
"Where's the Sheriff?"
"Sheriff can't do nuthin'!"
"Fair fight!"
"Billy drew first!"
Peters listened to the words spoken by the townspeople. In this case the law could do nothing. Words were not against the law, in spite of the fact he'd used them to goad the kid into a gunfight. He holstered his gun and walked back to the bar.
"Whiskey!" he ordered as the bartender came to stand before him.
"Yes, Sir, mister..."
"Peters. Jake Peters," he sneered as the bartender trembled before him. " I expect you've heard of me!"
"Y...yes, Sir," the man answered as the doors swung open and the sheriff entered.
"Hand over your gun, Mister!"
Peters looked in the mirror behind the bar and smiled. "Why, Sheriff?"
"You're under arrest for murder."
"It wasn't murder, Sheriff. He drew first. I'm sure these people can tell you that."
"Benny?" the sheriff asked the older man kneeling beside the body of Billy Smith.
"Yeah, Mike, Billy drew first, but he," the old man pointed to Peters, "said some things about Betsy."
The sheriff closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew what a hard head Billy Smith was and knew how he felt about Betsy Roberts. The two were to be married in two days; instead Betsy would be attending Billy's funeral. He took a deep breath and looked around the saloon.
"Is that right? Did Billy draw first?" A chorus of 'Yeah, sheriff,' reached his ears and he frowned. He turned back to the bar and his voice turned deadly. "I want you out of town!" he warned.
"I haven't finished my drink yet, Sheriff!"
Mike Fisher strode confidently to the bar. He had no fear of this man; he'd faced them many times before and knew he would again. It was part of the job, and he would never back down. He reached for the glass of whiskey on the bar and poured the liquid onto the floor as he faced the Peters. "Yes, you have," he hissed.
"A move like that could get you killed, Sheriff!"
"It just might, but I'm not a hothead like Billy. I won't draw first. Now get the hell out of my town before I throw you in jail!"
Peters smiled as he turned away from the sheriff. "I gave him a chance, Sheriff, and he took it." Jake laughed as he turned from the bar and strode out the door, knowing he'd be coming back this way and would take care of the sheriff then. Right now there were more pressing matters at hand. He mounted his black gelding and rode away from Watsonville, and smiled as the adrenalin from the kill seeped from his body. It wouldn't be long before he faced down another man, only this time it would be a more evenly matched gunfight. The gunman wasn't sure he would come out as victor against Chris Larabee, but it was something he needed to find out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chris smiled as Mary Travis exited Gloria Potter's store and came towards him. Things were going well between them and he felt good about their relationship in spite of his own misgivings. He stood up as she stopped before him and handed him a copy of her paper.
"Morning, Mary."
"Morning, Chris. Where is everyone?"
"Ezra's probably still in bed, Buck and JD are on patrol. Vin's at the church helping Nathan and Josiah."
"It's been so quiet around here lately..."
"Mary, maybe we shouldn't say anything like that right now."
"Why?" Mary smiled innocently.
"With everything that's been going on lately. What with your sister's visit and..."
"You being shot," the slight smile disappeared as she remembered the sight of Chris Larabee being brought back to town in a wagon. She hid a shudder at the thought of nearly losing this man who'd become so much a part of her life.
"Yeah," he whispered and noted the look on her face as she stood before him. "Hey, it's okay, Mary. Nathan gave me a clean bill of health. Remember?"
Mary smiled and nodded, fighting back the tears she felt welling in her eyes. Nathan had indeed cleared Chris, but she still worried about him. She looked into his eyes and realized he was no longer watching her. "Chris?" When he didn't answer she turned and followed his gaze.
Chris watched the two figures riding towards him and frowned. Both men didn't look much older than JD Dunne, yet there was something about them that caught and held his attention. The first rode with his hat down over his eyes as if he was afraid of being seen. The second held his head up, but the look on his face told Chris there was no real danger from him. It appeared as if the man had spent the night drinking and the silly grin he wore reminded Chris of his early days with Buck Wilmington. They'd worn that same silly grin many times after consuming a bottle of rotgut. Somehow he didn't think the look on this man's face was from drinking.
"Chris, do you know them?" Mary asked as she watched the two men make their way down the center of the street.
"Never saw them before," Chris answered.
"Do you think they'll cause problems?"
"I don't think these two fit under the term bad element, but we'll keep an eye on them," he assured her.
"Bad element," she smiled. "I know someone else who isn't a bad element," she said as she walked away from the man in black.
Chris couldn't help but smile at the not so subtle reminder of their first real meeting. She'd told him she was trying to deter the bad element from coming to Four Corners and he'd looked at her and said softly, 'Lady, I am the bad element.'
"Hey, mister, where can a man get a drink in this town?" asked the larger of the two newcomers.
Larabee glanced up as the two men came to a stop in front of him. Chris leaned against the post he stood next to and nodded to the smaller man. "From the looks of your friend it doesn't seem like you boys need anything else to drink."
"Ain't been drinkin', Mister," the newcomer grinned as he slid from the saddle and tossed his horse's reins over the hitching post. "Not yet anyway. Me and Jesse here just need somethin' ta wash off the trail dust. If'n ya could just point out the saloon we'll leave ya alone."
Larabee watched the second man who seemed to keep his eyes downcast and his hat pulled forward on his head. He seemed to wince every time his friend spoke and Chris walked towards him. The face seemed a bit too pale and Chris frowned as he looked at the young man. "What's wrong with yer friend?" he asked and again noted the grimace and what seemed to be shyness from the man in the saddle.
"Ah, Jesse's, jest plain worn out. We's been ridin' fer most of the night and we jest wants a drink and a bed. Come on, Mister, where's the saloon?"
Chris continued to watch the man on the horse as his friend helped him from the saddle. He didn't miss the slight stagger or the way 'Jesse' seemed to shy away from his voice. He could hear him mumble something under his breath and smiled as he heard the softly spoken words. 'Scare's me'.
"He ain't nuthin' ta be scared of, Jesse. I tole ya I'd protec' ya," the bigger man smiled as he held onto his stumbling friend.
"What's wrong with him?" Larabee asked.
"Ah, he's jest a li'l broke. Ain't nuthin' a drink won't fix. Ya gonna tell us where the saloon is or what?"
"This is the saloon," Larabee informed the man. "I don't think your friend needs any more alcohol. Saloon's closed anyway. Seems to me he needs to sleep it off. Maybe I should escort you both to the jail..."
"You a law dawg?" the big man asked as Jesse hid behind him.
"Let's just say I help keep the peace in this town."
"Hey, Chris, having problems?"
Larabee turned to see Baker Campbell and Vin Tanner walking towards him. "Nothing I can't handle," he answered. The sharpshooter nodded and walked through the batwing doors into the dully lit saloon. Campbell nodded to the newcomers before following the other man into the saloon.
"Thought ya said the saloon's closed?"
"Don't make 'im mad, Frank," Jesse's voice trembled as he watched the black clad gunslinger.
Frank turned to his friend and shook his head. "Ain't nuthin' ta worry 'bout, Jesse, I kin 'andle 'im."
Larabee's eyebrows rose as he heard the simply spoken words. This man had confidence, but Larabee knew he lacked the finesse needed to be fast with a gun. Chris had no doubt the man could use the gun to kill, but he knew it wouldn't be in a gunfight, least not a fair one. "If you boys are gonna have a few drinks then you'd better make sure you stay out of trouble," he warned.
"Ain't gonna cause no trouble, Mister. Jest need ta git rid..."
"Of the trail dust," Larabee finished and turned to walk into the saloon.
"Come on, Jesse, I'll buy ya a drink, make ya feel like a new man," Frank told him.
"My head hurts," Jesse told him as he leaned heavily on his arm.
"Let me see," Frank ordered and lifted the hat. The bandage wrapped around his head was tinged with blood and Frank frowned as he touched the edge causing Jesse to hiss in pain. "Ya gotta let it rest or it ain't gonna git any better. Ya want ta git a room and sleep?"
"It can wait until you get your drink, but..."
"But nuthin', Jesse. Don't let that law dawg worry ya. I kin handle 'im if'n it come ta that. Let's go git that drink." He had a confidence only granted to the simple minded, someone who didn't really understand what was right and what was wrong. The bandage on his friend's head meant little to Frank except that Jesse must have been hurt, the how or why didn't dawn on him. The gun at his waist also meant little, he knew it could kill if he pointed it at someone, but he didn't understand how it worked. He just knew he had to point and shoot and the man he pointed it at usually fell to the ground. Even this simple action didn't always compute in the simple mind, it just happened and there were no misgivings about what he'd done. Frank held tightly to Jesse' arm and hurried into the saloon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Peters rode quietly towards the town of Four Corners. It wouldn't be long before he met and bested Chris Larabee. It never entered his mind that he would lose; the killing of Billy Smith had boosted his confidence. He thought about the men he'd killed since becoming a hired gun. Some had been gunslingers with years of experience, others had been like Smith, young and fast, but lacking what it took to kill a man. He'd made his first killing at the age of fifteen and looking back, realized he'd been fast even then. Years of practice made him what he was and he was proud of the name he'd made for himself. He'd never shot a man in the back and he never would. A gunslinger who was fast didn't need to stoop that low. Jake watched as two men rode towards him, nodded a greeting as he passed them, and felt their eyes on him as he continued towards town.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck turned his head and watched the man ride tall in the saddle. He frowned at the tied down gun showing under the long white duster.
JD sensed his friend's apprehension and turned to his companion. "Buck, is something wrong?"
"Not sure, Kid, there's something about that fella."
"You know him?"
"I don't think so, but I know the type."
"Type?"
"Yeah. He's got all the markings of a gunslinger."
"You think he's heading for town?"
"Where else would he be going, Kid? I think we're finished our patrol," Wilmington said. There was something about the man's eyes that caught his attention and instinct told him this man was not good news. He turned his horse around and rode back towards town, knowing JD Dunne was following close behind.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Those two have been at it all day," Jackson observed of the two men seated at the table by the bar.
"I don't think the two of them have been at it all day. It seems to me that young fella hasn't touched that drink since Inez served it to him," Sanchez told them.
"He does seem to be making it last," Jackson said.
"Perhaps a lack of funds is a contributing factor in the young man making his drink last," Standish observed as he expertly shuffled a deck of cards.
"I don't think so. His friend's been drinking enough for both of 'em and he doesn't seem to have run out of coins yet," Larabee told them.
"Neither one of 'em seems too bright," Vin observed as the bigger of the two turned to look around the nearly empty saloon.
"The way that young one looks at Chris you'd think he was scared to death of him," Jackson said.
"Yeah, well, if'n ya didn't know Chris ya'd probably be afraid of 'im too, Nathan. I mean there's not too many people can glare quite like Larabee," Tanner laughed as he refilled his whiskey glass.
"Ya aimin' to get shot, Vin," Larabee's voice was cold, but the grin on his face told the others he wasn't serious. A commotion at the bar had the five peacekeepers instantly on alert.
"Ah, come on, Senorita, gimme one more. I got money. See?" He slapped a few coins on the bar and grinned drunkenly at the dark haired woman.
"Money does not matter, Senor, you've had enough," Inez told him as she slid his coins back to him.
Chris watched as Jesse lifted his head and looked straight at him before the young man's eyes dropped to the floor once more. He shook his head knowing he had this effect on a number of people, but never to this extent. Jesse seemed to shrivel up whenever Chris glanced his way.
"Come on, Pretty Lady, jest one more," Frank tried.
Josiah Sanchez stood up and walked to the bar, smiling at the woman standing behind it. "I'll take a beer, Inez."
"Right away, Senor," Inez said as she turned back away to get a clean glass.
"Come on, Senorita," he looked at the big man beside him before turning back to the bar. "Tell her, Mister, tell her ta gimme one more whiskey," Frank whined.
"Seems to me you've had enough for today," Sanchez told him.
"Here, Frank, drink mine and let's get out of here."
"But, Jesse, ya ain't had nothin' ta drink all day."
"I don't feel like drinking. Take mine."
"Ya sure?" Frank asked even as he lifted the shot and downed the fiery liquid. "Still need the little lady ta gimme one more," Frank complained.
"Well, she's not gonna do that," Sanchez told him as he took the beer from Inez. "Now, I'd say it's time you took your friend's advice, otherwise there's a room in the jail just waitin' for both of you."
"Ah, hell," Frank said as he reached for his friend's arm. "Where's the hotel or does this place have one?"
"Come on and I'll show you where it is," Sanchez told the two men. He frowned as the younger man stood up and swayed, but stayed on his feet as the bigger man held onto his arm.
"Come on, Jesse, let's git a room fer the night." He leered towards Inez and watched her movements. "Maybe fer a few nights," he mumbled drunkenly.
The two men passed the table where Larabee, Tanner, Jackson, and Standish sat. Again the young man kept his eyes downcast and wouldn't look at the gunslinger.
~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jake Peters dismounted and tied his horse to the hitching post just outside the livery. He looked down the single dusty street searching for the man he knew was one of the peacekeepers in Four Corners. He knew of Larabee propensity for wearing black and watched as three men exited the building a short distance away. One man leaned heavily against the other, while a third seemed to be pointing something out to them. Neither man matched the description of Chris Larabee.
Jake moved towards the saloon, his eyes constantly shifting as he searched the town. The street was all but deserted as the sun began the final part of its journey. The two men he'd seen on first entering the town walked towards what could only be a hotel, as the third one turned his gaze his way.
Josiah watched the newcomer as he moved towards him. There was something about the way the duster draped down the body, and covered the gun at his waste, that warned the ex-preacher he could be trouble. He leaned heavily against the post and waited for the man to come nearer and was surprised to see him stop in the middle of the street.
"I'm lookin for a man named Chris Larabee," the newcomer told him.
Josiah stared at the man even as his eyes caught sight of two riders coming into town. He was used to keeping track of things around him and wasn't surprised to see Baker Campbell come out of the hotel. He knew Campbell was a friend of Larabee's but there were things about him he didn't quite trust. His eyes shifted back to the newcomer even as Buck and JD dismounted outside the livery and strode towards them.
Chris heard a strange voice asking about him and knew the others heard as well. He stood and moved towards the door, his body tensing as instinct kicked in. Something about the tone told him this would end in gunplay. He felt his men watching and knew they'd follow him out the door and ensure no one interfered. Larabee pushed the doors open and joined Sanchez on the boardwalk. His eyes flashed up and down the street as he recognized the stance of the man standing alone. The man was a gunslinger and he was ready to test himself. Chris knew he was about to be called out once more.
Peters recognized the black clad man as he stepped through the batwing door. He smiled as he saw a similar spirit in Larabee as the gunman walked out into the dusty street. There was no fear in the man's eyes, but again he hadn't expected any. This was a test, one that would prove once and for all that he was the best.
"I'm Larabee, who the Hell are you?"
"The name's Jake Peters." He smiled as he heard gasps from the townspeople who hid behind open windows and doors. His reputation was well known, even the people of this little berg knew who he was.
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Larabee asked seriously and was rewarded when a hint of anger passed across his nemesis' face. He knew who Peters was, but it was always good to keep your foe guessing and never give away too much of yourself.
Peters watched as six men took up positions around the gunslinger. One in particular seemed to hover close by. This man's hair was long, his body clad in buckskin, but what caught his attention were the twin beacons of danger staring at him from below a tilted hat. His gaze returned to Larabee and he smiled thinly. "You gonna hide behind these men, Larabee?"
"I don't need to hide behind anyone," Larabee said as he walked out into the street. He caught sight of Mary Travis being pulled into Gloria Potter's store and sighed in relief that she was out of danger. He knew the others had made everyone get inside as soon as a hint of danger was known. A slight movement caught his attention and he knew Baker Campbell was watching the everything as well.
Campbell watched with growing interest as his long time friend faced down the man in the street. He saw Peters' right hand flick back his coat and his fingers began to flex in readiness. He knew beyond a doubt Larabee could best this man, but he wanted to see the reactions of the town and in particular Vin Tanner. He needed to know where this man stood and why Chris Larabee would befriend a wanted man with a price on his head. He leaned against the corner of the hotel and waited to see the outcome of the draw.
Peters knew as long as it was a fair fight he would not be charged with Larabee's killing. The benefits of having bested such a well known gunslinger was all that really mattered. He already had a pretty good reputation, but this would be his crowning achievement.
Four Corners was deathly quiet, the soft wind that had blown the dust in small swirls seemed to have been vanquished by the threat of gunfire. Nothing moved behind the dark silent windows, yet the townspeople stared out of the shadows.
Chris faced the man who'd called him out as Jake Peters glared back under a wide brimmed hat. Chris could see the man set himself. Chris' green eyes were unreadable as he brought forth what was needed for him to be the deadly, calculating gunslinger he needed to be. People, buildings, horses, birds, anything that surrounded him ceased to exist as he called on what he was, what he'd always be, a gunslinger. Yet, Chris Larabee was also a man, one who fought on the right side of the law. He would never break the law, but at times like this he was forced to do something that went against everything he believed in. His reputation as a gunslinger followed him everywhere, yet this town had grown to accept who he was, not what he was. He no longer considered himself 'The Bad Element' and neither did the people of Four Corners.
Larabee watched Peters, ignoring everything but the man before him. he watched as the fingers on the gunslinger's right hand flexed, yet stayed just where they were. His own hand hovered at his gun, but his fingers remained set, ready to move the instant Jake Peters showed any sign he was ready to draw.
"Are your men gonna draw down on me when I kill you, Larabee?"
"My men won't need to interfere, Peters," Chris assured him with a cocky grin. Chris watched as a droplet of sweat slowly ran down the man's bobbing Adam's Apple and knew the time was drawing near. His green gaze grew deadly, his body set in a rigid stance as he watched Peters hand go for his gun.
Larabee's right hand dropped with lightening speed, the Colt pulled from it's resting place, before he even thought about what he was doing.
Peters knew he'd made a fatal mistake the minute he drew on the man in black. His gun came up, just as fast as Larabee, but felt something slam into his chest, a millisecond after he fired. Looking down at his shirt as the his gun dropped from numbed fingers.His right hand was now useless, as a blossoming red stain grew from a hole in his chest. The gunman's heart pounded in his chest, yet he knew he was dying. Larabee's shot had been true, and Jake Peters slid the rest of the way to the ground.
Larabee knew he'd met his match in Jake Peters, at least speed wise, but Peters forgot about accuracy. Chris' own bullet struck exactly where he knew it would and he smiled in spite of the lancing pain in his head. The man in black heard the town come back to life, even as he lifted his hand to his head. He winced as his fingers found a groove along the left side of his head, above and to the left of his eye. His hands came away bloody, and he frowned as he realized something was wrong.
"Easy, Chris, I got ya," Tanner said as he rushed to his friend's side. The draw had been to close to call and for an instant he wasn't sure who won. Then he'd seen the blood on Peters' chest and watched as the gunman gave up his life in the middle of the street. He knew the man was dead before he hit the ground.
"Help me get him to the clinic, Vin" Jackson ordered as he saw the blood flowing down Larabee's left cheek.
Chris felt strong hands on his arms as he blinked to focus his eyes. "Dammit!" he swore as his vision blurred even further and his legs grew shaky. His stomach rebelled and he lost its contents in the center of the street. Again and again he blinked, ignoring the voices around him. Lights flashed, grey, almost twilight, his vision worsening with each step he took. Light, dark, light dark, he felt like someone was turning the sun on and off and he groaned as he felt someone grab his arms and pull them over their shoulders. The buildings seemed to shift and fade to grey with each blink. Twilight, dark, twilight, dark, he felt dizzy as he struggled to focus on the things around him. He knew something was wrong as his vision continued to worsen. He felt the steps in front of him and knew they were headed for Jackson's clinic. He blinked again and again, a low hiss of pain escaping as pain lanced through his skull. He knew he was in trouble as each blink of his eyes revealed complete and utter darkness. His body trembled and he knew the two men helping him were worried, but he couldn't find the energy to form the necessary words to quell their worry. He opened his eyes once more and one word crept into his mind, 'Blind!' he thought as he gave into the pain and shock.
Vin and Nathan felt the lean body go slack in their arms as they reached the landing of the clinic. They reached down and scooped Larabee's legs and carried him to the door. Nathan was about to release his hold when a distraught Buck Wilmington reached for the handle.
"Nathan, is he alright?" the ladies' man asked breathlessly. He'd left the others to take care of Peters and came up to see if he could help. Truth was he needed to see if his long time friend was okay. The sight of Larabee's head snapping back kept replaying in his mind and he wasn't sure whether the blond gunslinger was dead or alive.
"I don't know, Buck," Jackson said as they carried the unconscious man to the bed. They eased him down on the mattress and heard a commotion outside the clinic. No one was surprised to see Sanchez, Standish and Dunne entered. Mary Travis came in right behind them.
"Chris!" Mary's face paled as she saw the blood on the left side of Larabee's face. She hurried to his side and reached for his hand, ignoring proper decorum in loo of Chris Larabee's injury.
"Mary, I need to check his head," Jackson said as he watched her smooth the hair away from the grisly looking wound. "Mary," he called again to the distraught woman.
Mary lifted her tear stained face to the healer, her voice filled with the raw pain she felt. "I can help you, Nathan."
"Mary, I know you want to help, but not right now." Jackson could see how badly shaken she was and knew she was having flashbacks of Steven Travis' murder.
"But..."
"He'll need you more when he wakes up, Mary," Buck said as he took her arm and all but lifted her up to her feet.
Mary knew he was right, but wanted to stay. Her eyes kept filling with tears as she looked at the pale man on the bed. "He'll be all right won't he, Buck?" she asked.
Buck smiled in spite of his own doubts. "Ya know he will, Mary. Ain't a bullet been made that can take down Chris Larabee. Now, why don't you go make sure Billy doesn't hear this from anyone else?"
"Billy...I left him with Gloria. She'll make sure he stays there."
"I know she will, Mary, but he needs to hear this from you not from someone else."
"You'll come get me as soon as Nathan's finished with him?"
"Nothing will keep me away," Buck assured her. "Come on, I'll go with you." He looked back to see Jackson cleaning the gash on Larabee's head and helped the shaky woman out of the clinic.
"Josiah, get the carbolic and add it to the water!" Jackson ordered as he held a clean bandage to the still bleeding wound. "Vin, hold that for me!"
Tanner held the bandage to the wound and watched as Jackson moved around the clinic getting the things he'd need to take care of the gunslinger.
Baker Campbell leaned against the doorframe watching everything that happened in the small clinic. He was worried about Larabee, but his instincts kept him watching from a distance. His eyes fell on the two men at the back of the clinic. Vin Tanner held a cloth to Larabee's head, a dark red stain forming as he held it in place. Campbell still couldn't understand how this quiet man had a 500-dollar bounty on his head. Vin was an enigma to him. Most murderers steered clear of friends, knowing they could be used against them, yet Tanner seemed to have been accepted by the six men, including Chris Larabee. He knew Larabee didn't cotton to murderers, especially after what he'd heard about Larabee's family being murdered. That meant Tanner was either innocent or the best actor ever to grace the west. He still opted for the latter, at least it eased his conscience a little. He took a deep breath and entered the clinic.
"How is he?" Campbell asked.
"He's got a nasty head wound and it's gonna take some stitches to close it up," Jackson explained as he walked back to the bed and placed the instruments on the table. "Thanks, Josiah," he said as the ex-preacher placed a basin of warm, carbolic laced water on the table. "All right, Vin, ease it off for a minute."
Tanner eased the stained bandage away from the wound, relieved when he saw the heavy crimson flow had all but stopped. The wound was approximately two inches long and fairly deep. The raw edges were ragged and a deep multi colored bruise was already forming around the swollen area.
Nathan used a cloth soaked in the carbolic and water to clean the area. He winced as the wound continued to seep blood. He pressed it to the swollen area for a few seconds and was relieved to find the flow had finally stopped. He turned to the other men in the room and saw the worry etched on each face.
"I'm gonna need to put some stitches in. I'm not sure if he'll wake up or not, but I'm not gonna take any chances. Josiah, Baker, hold his legs still. Vin, it'll be up to you to keep him down if he wakes up. Ya all know how this feels and there ain't nothin' I can do if he starts to buck." He waited for the men to take their places, and picked up the needle Standish had sterilized in the boiling water and whiskey.
Campbell couldn't take his eyes off the steady hand of the healer as he put in a neat row of stitches. He remembered seeing doctors who were trained for this type of thing, and their work had been shoddy compared to this. The hands were careful and tender as they eased the broken skin together. Campbell shuddered as he remembered the reason he owed Chris Larabee so much.
"Are you okay, Baker?" Sanchez asked as he noticed a shudder race through the other man.
"I'm fine," Campbell closed his eyes and felt his stomach churn as flashes of memory surfaced. His gun, a bottle of whiskey, bullets, a letter, a young cadet coming towards him, his own hand reaching for the weapon and placing it at his skull...a glimpse of a blond head and blurry body as he was thrown from the chair...the sound of a gun firing and a young man lying on the ground... 'blood, so much blood,' he thought as he opened his eyes and was back in the present.
Jackson finished the last stitch and wasn't sure if he was relieved that Larabee hadn't made a sound. He sat back in his chair and rinsed his hands in the clean water Ezra brought him. "Thanks, Ez," he said as he reached for a clean bandage.
"You're most welcome, Mr. Jackson," the gambler said, and joined JD by the small stove to wait for the healer to tell them how serious the wound was.
Nathan placed the bandage on Larabee's head and reached for a thin strip lying on the table. "All right, Vin, lift him up a little so I can wrap this around his head." It didn't take long for the healer to finish his ministrations and he turned to the men in the clinic. "Ain't much more I can do except keep it clean. Won't know nothin' else until he's awake. Probably gonna have a hell of a headache though so let's try and keep it quiet in here."
"How long before he wakes up?" Dunne asked.
"Ain't no way to say for sure, JD. That depends on Chris. Right now I want you all out of here so he can rest peaceably."
"I'll stick around, Nate," the sharpshooter said.
Campbell was again amazed at how a man who was supposed to be a murderer could show so much concern for another. He stood and left with the others, vowing once more not to let Vin Tanner get under his skin. A bounty was a bounty and it was issued for a wanted man, and that's exactly what Vin Tanner was. His friendship with Chris Larabee was second to that.
"I'm gonna go tell Mary and Buck what's happening," Josiah said as he followed Campbell out the door.
JD and Ezra nodded to Vin and Nathan before leaving, knowing the two men would let everyone know as soon as the gunslinger woke up.
Nathan looked at the two men left in the clinic. He knew how unique their friendship was, had witnessed it time and again when the two used a silent signal to get their point across. A simple nod of the head or a shrug of the shoulders was all that was needed to let the other man know what was happening. Jackson had never seen that connection before and knew he'd never see it again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jesse stood frozen in place as Frank reached for his arm. The two men had watched the gunfight and only added to Jesse' fear of the blond. Frank turned his head sideways and studied his friend for a few minutes before dragging him towards the hotel. He knew he should check Jesse' head, but was not sure why. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled Jesse away from the scene.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Josiah hurried towards Mary and Buck, glad to see Billy was not with them. Mary looked pale and shaken as she stood with the ladies man, and Josiah saw the steadying hand Buck had on her arm.
"How is he, Josiah?" Mary asked as soon as he was in earshot.
"Nathan's finished stitching up the wound..."
"Is Chris awake?"
"Not yet, Buck. Nathan's not sure how long it'll be before he wakes up, but he says when he does he'll more than likely have headaches. He wants us to make sure it's quiet in the clinic."
Buck didn't think Mary could be any paler and he felt the tremble in her arm. He knew she was thinking about Chris Larabee and how close they'd come to losing him today.
"How's Billy?" Josiah asked.
"I told him Chris was hurt," Mary shook herself and took a deep breath as she continued. "He's inside with Gloria. She said she'd look after him for me. I had to tell him Chris was going to be all right, but he keeps asking if he'll die like Steven did."
"Mary, Chris is strong..."
Mary's head came up until she met Wilmington's eyes. "So was Steven, but it didn't stop them from killing him!" she snapped before turning away and walking into Potter's store.
"She's taking this pretty hard," the ladies' man observed.
"I expect it brings back a lot of memories. She lost one man to a bullet and I expect she thought she'd lost Chris the same way. She'll be fine as soon as Chris wakes up."
"I'm gonna go see Chris."
"Alright, Buck," Josiah said as he headed towards the church at the end of the street.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chris slowly regained consciousness as he fought clear of the fog engulfing his mind. When it did, it slammed him back into another nightmare, one he couldn't quite grasp. Pain rocked his skull and he moaned softly as a hand reached out to touch his shoulder. He knew where he was, could smell the distinctive odor of the livery and knew he was in Jackson's clinic. He could hear voices, but didn't understand what they were saying. Chris knew he was hurt, yet couldn't remember how or why.
"He's coming round, Nathan," Mary said as she watched Larabee's eyelids flutter.
Jackson stepped forward and took the chair Mary vacated. He reached out and touched the pale forehead and felt the fever there. It didn't seem as bad as it had and he breathed a sigh of relief. Chris had been unconscious for nearly thirty-six hours and Jackson wondered if maybe there was more damage than what he could see.
"Chris, can you hear me?" the healer asked softly, knowing Larabee would probably be suffering from a headache.
Chris kept his eyes closed as pain exploded in his skull. He wanted to ease the mind of those talking to him, but couldn't find the energy to let them know he was all right. He swallowed against the mounting nausea in his stomach, but knew it was a losing cause as it continued to build. He kept his eyes closed as he was eased onto his side just as his stomach lost its contents.
Jackson had known immediately what was happening and he eased Larabee onto his side. He felt Mary standing beside him and was glad for the help she offered. He placed the gunslinger back on the pillows and accepted the cool cloth from the newspaperwoman. "Thanks," he said as he washed the cloth over the pale face.
Chris slowly fought the pain and nausea and let his eyes open. He sucked in a deep breath as all he encountered was complete and utter darkness. He could hear Jackson's voice as the healer tried to ask him questions, but the shock of finding out the nightmare had been real was too much.
"Chris?" Jackson tried again as the green eyes showed something he never associated with the gunslinger. Fear and uncertainty were mixed with the pain on Larabee's face as the man lost consciousness once more.
"Nathan?" Mary asked as she looked from the unconscious man to the healer.
"I don't know, Mary. The fact that he woke up is a good sign," Jackson tried to reassure her, but he'd seen something in the green stare that worried him. He changed the bandage on the head wound and was relieved to see there was no more bleeding.
"I'll go let the others know he was awake."
"Okay, thanks, Mary, but warn them to keep it quiet if they decide to come see for themselves."
"I will," she told him as she left the clinic.
Jackson lifted the lids of both eyes and checked his patient. Something about the way Larabee reacted when he'd opened his eyes worried the healer. Nathan wished, not for the first time, the town had a real doctor. He knew many things, and was still learning more as time went on, but head wounds were dangerous and not something to take lightly. The former slave looked up as Vin Tanner and Buck Wilmington entered the clinic.
"Nathan, Mary said he was awake."
"He woke for a couple of minutes, Buck," Jackson answered softly.
"That's good, right?" Wilmington asked hopefully.
"Yeah, it is."
Vin knew there was more to it, but didn't voice his concerns. He watched as the healer stood up and stretched. He knew Jackson hadn't been getting much sleep since the gunfight and hoped that was what he was sensing.
"How was he?" the sharpshooter asked.
"Sick, but that's to be expected. He'll probably do a whole lot of heaving because of the concussion. It'll be important to keep him drinking, so whoever is with him when he wakes up needs to make him drink."
"Nate, ya look tired. I'll stay with him if ya want ta get some rest," Tanner told him.
Jackson ran his hands over his head and knew the younger man was right. He wouldn't be any use to Chris if he didn't get some sleep. "All right, Vin," he said and turned to the ladies' man. "Buck, tell everyone what's going on and that I'll let them know as soon as Chris wakes up again."
"I'll keep them out of here, Nathan," Wilmington assured the healer as he left.
"What's wrong, Nathan?" the Texan asked as soon as the ladies' man was out the door.
"I'm not sure, Vin," Jackson answered as he stood up and stretched the kinks from his back.
"Nate?"
"I saw something in Chris' eyes when he woke up..."
"What?"
"Fear."
"Fear? In Chris?"
"I know that's not something we see in Chris, but it was there, Vin."
Tanner sat beside the bed as Jackson walked to the cot on the opposite side of the room. There was silence for a few minutes before Jackson eased down on the cot.
"Call me if he wakes up or needs anything, Vin."
"I will, Nathan," Tanner assured the medic as he eased his feet up on the mattress and leaned the chair back on two legs. He balanced his lean form and thought about what Jackson had told him. What could possibly make Jackson think he saw fear in the gunslinger's eyes?
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck, JD, and Ezra sat in the saloon late in the evening. Jake Peters was buried the day before and Chris was still unconscious in Jackson's clinic. The townspeople were worried about the gunslinger and the men were constantly stopped and asked how Larabee was doing. It had been two days since the shooting and except for a couple of minutes, Chris hadn't been awake. With each passing hour, they grew more worried that Larabee would not wake up. Jackson was also worried about dehydration as the gunslinger was not drinking anything.
Buck looked towards the door as two men walked in. He recognized the pair and wondered what their intentions were in Four Corners. The two hadn't done anything to rouse his suspicions, yet he couldn't help but wonder what they were up to.
Frank led Jesse into the saloon and smiled as he noticed the blond gunslinger was not there. He knew Jesse was afraid of Larabee, but wasn't sure why. It made things easier for him that Larabee was still not around. He frowned as he remembered the shooting and that Larabee had been shot. He reached out and touched the side of Jesse' head, but removed his hand as Jesse winced.
"Sorry," he said as he leaned against the bar. "Hey, Senorita, two whiskeys," he smiled as Inez came towards him.
Inez placed a glass before each man and poured a shot into each one. She watched as Frank downed his glass and asked for a refill. She filled the glass a second time as he slid some coins across the bar. "Thank ya, Senorita. Anyone ever tell ya how purty ya are? How about givin' me a little kiss?"
Inez smiled as she saw Buck come out of his chair. She put up her hand to tell him she was alright and he sank back down, but she could see his instincts were to come to her rescue. The young woman turned back to the man standing in front of her and smiled. Before she could say anything a soft southern voice spoke up.
"Ah, Senor, perhaps you are better suited to kiss the mule in the livery. It is more fitting for your asinine behavior."
Wilmington spewed the whiskey he'd been drinking across the table at Standish' quietly spoken words. He looked at the two men at the bar and realised the pun was lost on them. The one they knew as Frank was still trying to flirt with Inez, while she was finding it hard not to laugh at the gambler's choice of words.
Jesse knew his friend was flirting with danger, but his head was hurting and all he wanted to do was go back to their room and lie down. He could hear Frank talking to Inez, but couldn't quite make out the words as he reached for the glass on the bar. His hand shook and some of the liquor spilled over his fingers as he lifted it to his mouth.
Inez watched the smaller man as he seemed to have trouble lifting his arm. He looked as if he'd already been on a drinking binge and realized it might have been a mistake to serve either of them more alcohol.
Frank smiled as Jesse swallowed the fiery liquid. He pounded the younger man on the back as he coughed and choked. He stood back as his friend looked like he was about to get sick.
"Ah, Mister, ya'd best get your friend out of here before he gets sick," JD suggested.
"Jesse ain't gonna be sick, are ya Jesse?" Frank frowned as his friend swayed. He grabbed his arm and hurried from the saloon, annoyed that his friend had ruined his fun. Then he remembered that his friend was 'broke' and he led him towards the hotel.
"There's something strange about those two," Dunne observed as Frank led Jesse outside.
"You can say that again," Wilmington agreed. "But they haven't broken any laws yet, so there ain't much we can do until they do."
"I think we're dealing with a couple of simpletons, Mr. Wilmington. Neither man seems to have all his faculties in order."
"That one fella does seem a mite skittish," Dunne said.
"Yeah, well, maybe we should keep an eye on the two simpletons," Wilmington told them as he stood up to leave. "I'm gonna see if there's any change with Chris."
~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~
Mary sat next to the bed and tried not to show the worry she felt. Jackson and Tanner sat at the small table. a plate of food, virtually untouched, before each man. She knew they were worried that Chris didn't seem to be waking up, as she watched his face for any sign that he was.
Chris lay on the bed, not ready to face the empty darkness he knew would be there if he opened his eyes. His throat was dry and he needed a drink, but couldn't find the moisture to voice his words. A small moan slipped past his lips before he had a chance to stop it.
"Chris," Mary smiled as she heard the soft sound from the injured man. "Nathan, I think he's waking up."
Jackson and Tanner were at the side of the bed before the words left her mouth. Both men had heard the scratchy sound in spite of how low it was. Mary stood up to give the healer room to examine his patient.
"Hey, Chris, it's 'bout time ya woke up," the healer said as Larabee's eyes moved under the closed lids.
Chris tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. A soft cough filtered past his lips and he felt someone ease his head up. He heard a familiar voice, but couldn't quite put a name to it, yet he knew the person was trying to help.
"Here, Chris, drink this," Jackson ordered softly. He kept his voice low, knowing Larabee's head would be pounding as a result of the head trauma. He smiled as Larabee drank the water without question. "Take it slow, Chris," he ordered as he removed the glass.
"Na...than."
"Yeah, it's me. Vin and Mary are here too."
Chris nodded, but groaned as the slight movement set his stomach churning once more. The gunslinger knew he needed to open his eyes, but wasn't sure he could face what it might reveal. He took a deep breath and slowly opened them.
"Welcome back, Cowboy," Vin said as he saw the eyes open.
"Oh, Chris," Mary sighed in relief as she looked at the injured man.
Jackson was close enough to once more see the fear in Larabee's eyes. "Chris, what's wrong?"
Larabee lifted his right hand and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked rapidly, but there was no change. At first he tried to convince himself it was night, but that illusion was quickly shattered as he realized Nathan would have the lamp going in order to examine him. He closed his eyes and waited for his stomach to stop churning.
"Chris?"
Jackson's voice was filled with worry and Chris knew he was waiting for him to say something. "C...can't see, Nate," he whispered softly.
"Open your eyes, Chris," Jackson ordered, ignoring the soft cry from Mary Travis. He heard the door open, but didn't turn to see who it was.
Chris forced his eyes open once more and felt it tug on the wound on his forehead. He groaned softly as pain lanced through his skull. He felt Nathan examine the wound and winced as the fingers touched the swollen area.
"Easy, Chris, just lie still for a minute." The healer finished checking the wound and Larabee's eyes and sat back in his chair.
"Nathan?" Wilmington asked. Mary's worried expression and moisture laden eyes told him something was wrong.
"B...uck?"
"Yeah, I'm here, pard," the ladies' man answered as he hurried to the bed. He was glad to see his friend awake, but his instincts told him something was definitely wrong. "How are ya feelin'?"
"Can't see, Buck," Larabee winced as his own voice set off an explosion of pain once more. He turned on his right side and lost the small amount of water he'd drank. He felt Jackson's hands ease him back to the bed and closed his eyes.
"Chris, I need ya to drink a little more water," the healer said, as he poured a small amount of laudanum into the glass. He mixed the contents and lifted Larabee's head slightly.
Chris was grateful for the liquid in spite of the taste of laudanum that went along with it. His stomach seemed to accept the offering and he felt the glass removed from his mouth as his head was eased back on the pillows. Any movement set off the pain, but he tried not to show his discomfort. Instinct told him Vin Tanner was in the clinic in spite of the fact he hadn't said anything. He felt the laudanum, pain, and his own body's weakness as he drifted back to sleep.
"Nathan, will he be all right?" Buck asked.
"As long as we keep getting him to drink and he takes it easy..."
"But what about his eyes?" Mary asked.
"I don't know. It could be the swelling causing it or it could be he damaged something inside his head. If it is the swelling then his sight could return as soon as it goes down."
"If it's not?" Tanner asked.
"Ain't much I can do. Maybe one of them doctors at the hospitals back east could help." Jackson was frustrated at what he thought was a lack of ability on his part, yet he knew the others had confidence in him.
"Nathan?"
"I just don't know, Mary," he answered her unspoken question.
"What can we do ta help?" Tanner asked.
"Best thing for him is to rest and give himself time to heal. We need to make sure he drinks and maybe get some broth into him. I don't think he can handle anything solid in his stomach right now. He's probably gonna suffer severe headaches for a while and that alone can make him sick to his stomach. That'll bring even more problems if we can't stop him from..." he stopped as he looked at the pale newspaperwoman. "I'm sorry, Mary," he said.
"It's okay, Nathan. I need to hear this as well."
"You need to go get some sleep and spend some time with that boy of yours," Buck said as he saw the dark circles surrounding the woman's eyes.
"I'm fine, Buck," she said as she felt his hand on her arm.
"No, you're not, Mary. You haven't had much sleep since Chris was shot and you got a small boy to look after. Chris wouldn't want you neglecting either Billy or your health because of him." He knew he'd said the right words as Mary nodded once and went to the bed.
She placed her hand on Chris's shoulder and whispered for his ears only. "You rest, Chris, I'll be back in the morning."
"Vin, you need to get some sleep as well. JD and Ezra got patrol tonight so it might be a good idea for you to get some sleep as well," Wilmington explained.
"Buck's right, Vin. Ya won't be doin' anyone any good if ya pass out." Jackson ushered him out of the clinic with orders not to return until he had a full night's sleep. Nathan turned to watch the ladies' man settle into the chair beside the bed. He walked to the shelf, pulled out one of the books on medicine, walked to the table and opened it to the section on head injuries.
~~~~~~~~~~~
The next two days passed with no change. Chris would wake for a few minutes at a time and drink whatever they gave him.
The pain and nausea were a constant presence and Chris hated the way he felt. He heard someone moving around the clinic and pushed himself up on the bed.
"Chris..."
"Nathan, I'm tired of lying down," Larabee hissed as he slid his legs over the side of the bed. He felt Jackson's steadying hand on his shoulder and smiled in spite of the darkness surrounding him.
"How's your head," Jackson asked as he sat beside the injured man.
"Still there, I think," Larabee answered.
"Feel like eating something?"
"Not really. Just water..."
"Chris, ya gotta start eating..."
"There's no point right now, Nate."
"Do you still feel sick to your stomach?" the healer asked worriedly. He filled up a glass of water and reached for Larabee's hand, making sure his friend had a tight grip on it before he released his hold.
"Yeah, lucky if this stays where I put it." He sipped at the water as Jackson watched him.
"That's because of the concussion, Chris. It will get better."
"What about my..."
Chris didn't finish the question, but Jackson knew what he wanted to hear. "I don't know, Chris. I wish I did, but I'm not..."
"Nathan, you're as good a doctor as any of the ones back east. You may not have a paper on the wall, but you have all the people in this town as proof of that. Is there anyone you haven't used your skills on?"
Jackson laughed at how easily Chris was able to turn things around and make him feel better about the things he did. "Thanks, Chris." He reached for the cup as Larabee groaned softly. "Ya need to lie down," he warned, and was surprised when the gunslinger sank back to the bed without protest.
Chris closed his eyes and fought back the self-pity he felt coming over him. He wondered why he even bothered to open his eyes, as all he saw was complete and utter darkness. 'A blind gunslinger,' he thought ironically as he drifted towards sleep. He felt Nathan's hand on the bandage covering his head and knew his friend was making sure it was healing properly.
Nathan knew the swelling had gone down, but there was still some present and the bruising had spread to encompass part of his eye and cheek as well. Vivid purple and blue was surrounded by a lighter shade of yellow and red as the trauma began to heal. He knew Chris wasn't really sleeping, but knowing what a private man Larabee was, he left him to his thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Nathan."
Jackson looked up as Vin entered the clinic. He knew the younger man had seen Larabee sitting on the landing and wondered why the sharpshooter hadn't stopped to speak with him. "What's wrong, Vin?" he asked as he closed the medical journal.
"I's jest wonderin' how Chris is doin'?"
"Still the same," Jackson told him. "He's unable to keep anything down, except water, and even that don't stay inside him for long. His headaches are a little easier, but they're still bad enough to make him pass out if he tries to move around. I had to convince him to sit on the landing for a while."
"Yeah, Chris probably feels like everyone's watching him. Ezra's talking to him now."
"Hope he don't use none of them five dollar words of his. Chris already has one headache."
Tanner knew the healer was trying to ease his mind by shedding a little humor on the situation. "Nathan, Chris don't like being the center of attention..."
"I know that, Vin, but..."
"He wants to go out to his place." Vin could see the healer getting ready to protest, but he held up his hands to stop him. "Ya said he needs ta get some rest and quiet..."
"Yeah, he does, but he can't be left alone the way he is."
"He won't be alone. I'm gonna stay with 'im. Buck and the others are willin' ta take my patrol for me."
"I need ta take those stitches out in a couple of days..."
"I can bring him back to town or you can come out to his place."
"What if something happens?"
"We'll hightail it back here. Nathan, we both know Chris is a little down," Tanner said as he remembered how depressed Chris seemed to be getting. The people of the town were continuously dropping by, asking how he was doing, and he would pretend to be asleep. He didn't want to acknowledge their well wishes or address their worries.
"Vin, I just don't know."
"Why don't you ask him what he wants to do?" Tanner pressed.
"You know damn well what his answer will be, Vin." Jackson shook his head as he saw the smile on the sharpshooter's face. "Oh, hell, alright, let's go tell him, but it won't be today. You can take him out there tomorrow morning after I've got some supplies ready for you."
"Thanks, Nathan."
"Thank me after I see that this does Chris some good."
"So, Mr. Larabee, that's the news of the town," Standish said as he watched the gunslinger. The man was still pale, making the bruises that marred his face more prominent. "Is there anything I can get for you?"
"No, thanks, Ez, I'm fine," Larabee told him as he looked at the now familiar darkness.
"Hey, Ezra."
"Good afternoon, Mr. Jackson. I was just bringing Mr. Larabee the..."
"Gossip," Tanner finished.
"Mr. Tanner, I assure you I do not spread gossip."
"Don't matter none what ya call it, Ez, yer still tellin' stories," Tanner said.
"You two stop bickering before ya give Chris a headache," Jackson told them.
"Too late," Larabee winced as he rubbed his forehead.
"Ya been out in the sun too long, Chris. Come on and we'll get ya back to bed."
"I'm okay, Nathan."
"Chris, if ya want ta go out to your place tomorrow, then ya'd better start listening to what I say."
Larabee's head came up at the mention of getting out of town. His sightless eyes came up to meet those of the healer and his voice was laced with hope. "You mean it, Nathan?"
"Yeah, it'll probably be a whole lot quieter out at your place and Vin is gonna go with ya. Now why don't you come back inside and lie down for a while?"
"Okay," Larabee winced as his headache became more pronounced. He felt a steadying hand on his arm and was soon sitting on the side of the bed.
"Here, Chris, take this."
"What is it, Nathan?"
"Laudanum, it'll help ya rest." Jackson saw the grimace on Larabee's face as he drank it. "Now lie back and try to sleep."
Ezra and Vin watched as the gunslinger eased back no the bed and closed his eyes. It didn't take long for Larabee' to drift off to sleep and the three men left him alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Day and night had little meaning for Chris. He'd wake up to the same cloying darkness whether asleep or awake. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself, but couldn't stop. Mary and Billy had been in to see him earlier and he was frustrated at his inability to see them. He was finally alone in the clinic, but sensed Jackson or one of the others was close by. Larabee sat up and slung his legs over the side of the bed. The pain was a little more manageable right now, but he knew the longer he stayed up, the worse the pain would be. He wanted something to drink and used his hands to feel around, his frustration growing worse as he reached for the table. He touched the pitcher of water and the glass sitting next to it, and felt around until he found the handle and picked up both it and the glass. Chris took a deep breath and brought the pitcher over the lip of the glass. He tilted the pitcher until he heard the water splash into the glass.
"Dammit!" he swore as the water spilled over the edge and dropped onto his legs. He went to place the pitcher back on the table and swore as it crashed to the floor, water spraying across his bare legs and over the floor. His frustration eased as he threw the glass across the room.
"Feel better?"
"Hell, no, Josiah! Shit!" Larabee swore as pain lanced his skull and he swayed. He felt strong hands grab him and ease him back on the bed.
"It'll get easier, Chris."
"Will it, Josiah? How can you be sure? How long's it been now? A week? Two weeks? Hell, I can't tell anymore. Day and night don't mean nothing to a blind man!"
"Chris, feeling sorry for yourself isn't gonna help."
Larabee clenched his eyes tight in order to keep his weakness from showing. He knew Sanchez was right, but it didn't make it any easier. "How long's it been, Josiah?" he muttered.
"Eight days since you were shot."
"Eight days," Larabee whispered unbelievingly. "Eight days since the world went black."
"Don't give up, Brother," Sanchez said as he retrieved more water from the bucket on Jackson's table. He carefully stepped over the shards of glass and shook his head as JD stepped through the door, smiling gratefully as the young easterner left them alone. He took a new glass and poured the water into it before returning to the bed. Chris sat with his head in his hands and Josiah saw slump of his shoulders. For him, Chris Larabee was a man who oozed confidence, but to look at the gunslinger now he saw only dejection. He tapped the glass against Larabee's fingers and said softly. "Here, Chris."
Larabee wrapped his fingers around the glass and drank the cool water. "Thanks, Josiah," he said as he passed the glass back.
"You're welcome, Chris," the ex-preacher walked back to the table and placed the glass on top of it.
"Josiah?"
"Yes."
"Is it dark outside?"
"It's the middle of the night, Chris," Sanchez answered.
"Sorry, Josiah, didn't mean to wake you up."
"You didn't, Chris. I was..."
"Watching me?" Larabee asked softly. "Guess I do need..."
"It's only for a little while, Chris. Things will get better."
"Sure, Josiah. Look, my head's hurting. Why don't you get some sleep. That's about all I'm gonna do anyway," the gunslinger said as he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He heard Sanchez leave and took a deep breath. He'd been alone before, but never had he been so alone in a group of people. He slowly drifted to sleep, glad that by the next night he would be at his cabin, where prying eyes wouldn't be watching him constantly.
Sanchez gave him half an hour to fall asleep before he stepped back inside and cleaned up the glass and the water. He listened to the soft snores from the injured man and silently prayed that Chris Larabee would get his sight back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Vin, ya make sure ya bring 'im back if there's any problems."
"I will, Nate," Tanner said as he secured the saddle to Diablo.
"There's fresh bandages in there and laudanum if he needs it. Make sure he doesn't overdo things and try to get him eating. He's not gonna get any better if he ain't keepin' anythin' down."
"Here come Buck and Josiah," Tanner said as he watched the two men stand on either side of Larabee as they walked towards them. He smiled as he realized the two men were not actually supporting Chris. They were walking close enough that the gunslinger actually touched up against them once in a while. He knew this was being done on purpose so that Chris could feel some control over what was happening around him.
Nathan nodded to Sanchez and Wilmington and moved to check his patient one last time. He checked the sightless eyes, felt the pale forehead and finally stepped away from the protesting man. "Chris, you tell Vin if ya have any problems."
"I will, Nathan," Larabee said as the healer led him to Diablo. He reached for the reins and swung his leg up over the saddle. He winced as the quick movement sent daggers of pain through his skull.
The flash of pain didn't go unnoticed by the three men standing around him, but they knew this was what the gunslinger needed. The town was not the place for Larabee to recuperate. It had been agreed that Vin would be the best to try and teach Larabee how to get around without his eyes.
"You ready, Vin?" Larabee asked softly, as if anything louder would cause his head to explode.
Tanner swung into his saddle and smiled at the three men watching them. He nodded his head in an effort to let them know everything would be all right as he turned his attention to his companion. "All right, Cowboy, let's get you home."
"Thanks, Vin," Larabee said gratefully as he rode beside the tracker.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Vin watched his companion as they rode side by side. He was keeping them to a slow pace, knowing Larabee's head had to be bothering him. Twice they stopped to rest, but it didn't help and he realized it would be better to get to the cabin and let the injured man rest in the familiar surroundings. He chanced a glance at his friend and saw him listing to the right.
"Chris?"
Larabee hissed and sat up straight in the saddle. "Sorry, Vin."
"Ain't nothin' ta be sorry 'bout, Pard. We're almost home," he assured the gunslinger.
"O...kay," the blond muttered tiredly. He knew they were closing in on his place, but wasn't sure how much longer he could stay in the saddle. The sun was hot on his face as they rode and he wondered if he'd ever see the golden rays again. He shook off the self-pity, knowing it was something he didn't want the younger man to see. He didn't know how long they travelled, but smiled as Diablo seemed to recognize his home. "We're here," he said as he patted the horse's neck.
Vin saw some of the pain leave the blond's face as they rode into the yard. He knew they'd made the right decision to get Larabee out of town as he drew Unalii to a halt in front of the cabin. He reached for Diablo's reins and eased them from Larabee's hands. He draped the reins over the hitching rail and moved to help the gunslinger from the saddle, not at all surprised to find the black clad man already on the ground.
Chris took a deep breath of the air and sighed heavily. He knew the area and felt at home here. He patted Diablo's rump and moved towards the door of the cabin. He used his hands to find his way, but tripped on the step leading into the cabin.
Vin saw Chris stumble and moved to help, but stopped when the gunslinger righted himself and moved to open the door. The sharpshooter knew the blond needed a few minutes alone and he untacked the two horses before releasing them into the corral. He would finish caring for them once he'd taken care of Larabee. He hurried into the cabin and instantly spotted the injured man sprawled across the single cot in the far corner. The tracker moved to check on his friend and was glad to see he was sleeping. Tanner pulled off the boots and covered the him with a thin blanket before going outside to tend Diablo and Unalii. ~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck, JD, and Ezra shared the table at the back of the saloon. It was quiet in the town, and except for them, the only two men in the saloon were the newcomers. Frank and Jesse were once more at the bar.
Buck could hear Frank flirting with Inez and smiled as the young woman handled him easily. He'd been tempted to do something about it earlier, but Inez simply smiled and shook her head. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and tipped it to his mouth as Frank's voice reached his ears.
"Ah, come on, Senorita, just one little kiss."
"Oh, Senor, I do not think you will like my kisses," Inez told him.
"Sure I will. A little spitfire like you..."
Buck was on his feet but the gambler's hand on his arm stopped him. The conman pointed to the Mexican woman and smiled. "Watch," he said simply.
"Close your eyes, Senor," Inez whispered.
"Hear that, Jesse, the lil' Senorita is gonna give me a kiss," Frank exclaimed excitedly. He closed his eyes and leaned in over the bar.
Jesse watched, but didn't seem to understand what was happening. His eyes were open, but unfocused as he lifted the drink to his mouth.
"Are you ready, Senor?" Inez asked.
Frank snickered and bounced on his feet as he waited expectantly.
"Here it comes, Senor, now keep your eyes closed."
"They're closed." Again the man snickered as he waited for the touch of soft lips.
"Oh, Lord," Wilmington suppressed a laugh as he watched Inez lift the pitcher of water.
"Here it comes," Inez smiled as she lifted he water up over the man's head. She tipped the it over Frank's head, smiling innocently as he sputtered and swiped at his face with his hands.
"Now why'd ya go an' do that fer?" Frank sputtered as he reached across to grab Inez' hand.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" Wilmington said from behind the man.
"But she...Look what she...did to me."
"You got what you deserve," Dunne exclaimed.
"I'm all wet!"
"In more ways than one," Standish said as he joined Dunne and Wilmington at the bar.
"You're gonna pay, Senorita," Frank tried to move past the three men but a wall of muscle stood in front of him.
"Think maybe you two best go to yer room and sleep it off," the ladies' man spat.
"I ain't goin' nowhere 'til I get what she..."
"Fr...ank..."
Frank looked towards his companion and frowned as he saw the man waver and sink towards the floor. "Jesse!" he said as he reached for his friend.
"What's wrong?" Dunne asked.
"He's broke!"
"Pardon me?" Standish frowned as they eased the man to the floor. The man's hat tipped off his head to reveal a dirty bandage wrapped around it. "Perhaps we would be well advised to bring him to Mr. Jackson's clinic?"
"He needs a doctor," Frank said as they lifted the injured man up and walked towards the clinic.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nathan finished examining the wound on the young man's head and frowned as he turned to the second. "You say you don't know how he got shot?"
"I didn't see it. I found him when he's already broke. He's gonna be all right though ain't he mister? He's my...my brother and I cain't let nuthin' happen ta him."
"Well, the wound was infected, but I cleaned it out and as long as he rest he should be okay. He's probably been having headaches, but that should ease some soon." Jackson explained. "Now why don't you go put on some dry clothes and get some rest. Your brother's not goin' anywhere."
"I gotta stay with 'im."
"You can come back as soon as you change," Jackson assured the man. He could see the man wasn't very smart, but did care for his brother. "He'll be here when you get back, Frank."
"Promise!"
"Yeah, promise," Jackson assured the simple minded man. He watched as he slowly walked out the door. There was something strange about the two men, but the healer couldn't place it. He turned back to the patient and wondered how Chris and Vin were doing, vowing to find out for himself when he rode out there in the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 'Draw!' the word was barely audible, but Chris heard it as if it was screamed at him. He pulled his gun from its holster and realized he was too late. His eyes opened wide as the bullet left the barrel of Peters' gun. As with all dreams, things became distorted and he could track the bullet with his eyes as it made a slow, almost comical journey from the gun. 'Just move out of the way, Cowboy!' Tanner's laughing face was beside him, but he didn't understand what was being said. His eyes were glued to the incoming death in the form of a bullet. Inch by inch the bullet advanced on him, but he was frozen in place, unable to move away from its path. Laughter surrounded him as he struggled to move. Peters' face turned into a macabre skeleton as the bullet completed its journey. The impact was worse than he remembered and Chris cried out as fireworks exploded in his skull. He bolted upright on the cot and hissed in pain.
Vin moved to the injured man's side and touched his arm. "Ya all right, Chris?"
"Yeah, just fine," Larabee answered sarcastically. "Can't see a damn thing except in my dreams and sometimes I wish I was blind in them too!"
"Must've been some nightmare."
"It was," the gunslinger said softly and was silent for a few minutes. "I keep seeing the damn bullet. I know that's not possible, but in the dreams I can actually see it coming towards me. The sun glints off it as I watch and I can't move." He left out the part about seeing Vin and the others and their laughter. "Shit, Vin!" he hissed as he stood up and headed towards the door. He knew he was weak, yet there was nothing he could do about it. Even the thought of food jarred his already rebellious stomach. He sank into the chair, felt a soft breeze on his face, and waited for the tremors to stop. Chris knew the sharpshooter was watching him, but didn't acknowledge him.
Vin made sure the gunslinger was staying put, before he turned to the stove. Jackson's orders were to see that he ate and Vin was going to do his best to see that he did. He walked back to the table and placed the two plates on opposite ends. He walked outside and saw Larabee's eyes were closed once more.
"Chris?"
"Yeah?"
"Supper's ready."
"Not hungry right now, Vin."
"Ya gotta eat, Pard."
Larabee smiled as he remembered those same words being spoken by another friend, one who'd recently returned to his life. "You sound like Baker."
"Campbell?"
"Yeah, he said the same thing to me at West Point."
"What happened?"
"Long story. You sure you want to hear it?"
"Ain't got nuthin' better ta do." He smiled and felt guilty when he realized his friend couldn't see it.
Larabee leaned the chair back against the wall and placed his boots on the railing.
Vin smiled as he watched the man do something he'd been doing since they'd first met. Chris Larabee may be blind, but he was far from helpless.
"It happened six months after I entered West Point. Baker and me were already friends by then, which was something of a surprise to everyone. He was a year ahead of me, but you wouldn't have known it. He was engaged to a girl back home before entering West Point and he received a letter from her every couple of weeks. He'd read that letter over and over until a new one arrived. I remember thinking how much I envied him, least until the last one arrived..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ West Point
16-year-old Chris Larabee patrolled his area with diligence and extreme attention to detail. Some of his friends told him he was taking things too seriously, but Chris had always been an overachiever. He smiled as he thought of Baker Campbell. The man was a year ahead of him, yet the two had become fast friends when five men took an instant disliking to Chris. The cadets were jealous that Chris' commanding officer had taken the young man under his wing and they cornered him one night outside the barracks. Chris stood his ground and the leader, a blond with savage eyes and a chip on his shoulder, had two of them hold him while he used his fists to beat Larabee. Campbell had patrol duty that night and heard the commotion. He'd quickly intervened and fought by Larabee's side. The three were placed under arrest and subsequently left the service, although it was more like a dishonourable discharge. Larabee never saw them again, but what started as a night filled with enemies and pain had ended in newfound friendship.
Chris continued his patrol of the area, in spite of the fact that he had less than half an hour for his replacement to show up. A sound off to his right caused him to turn and he readied his rifle just in case. A familiar form came into view and Chris smiled.
"Hey, Baker," he called and was surprised when his friend continued to walk away from him. He saw something white drop on the ground as Campbell hurried down the trail. He walked over and picked up the wrinkled white paper. "Baker, you dropped this!" he called, but received no answer. He caught sight of a flash of light and realized Campbell was carrying a bottle. Briefly he wondered where it came from, but the man disappeared around the bend in the road.
Chris looked at the paper and his eyes fell on the name at the bottom of the paper. "Juliet Wilson," he mumbled aloud. Something about Campbell's behavior told him the letter was bad news. "Ah, Hell," he thought and read the fancy lettering.
My dearest, Baker,
It has been so long since you held me in your arms and I find I can no longer wait for your touch. There was a time when you were the center of my world, but alas time and distance have left me cold. I have met someone else and we are to be married this Sunday. I did not mean for it to happen like this and I do apologize. Please forgive me, Baker and wish me luck. I am sure you will meet someone and eventually fall in love. Take care and stay safe
Juliet Wilson
Chris looked at the paper and swore again as he realized what he had in his hands was a Dear John letter. He'd heard of them before and had seen how devastating those words could be, especially when the couple was separated by distance.
"Hey, Chris."
Chris turned as his replacement walked into his line of sight. They exchanged pleasantries and Chris hurried back to the barracks. Larabee knew what he was about to do could cause problems, but a friend needed help, a friend he owed and wasn't about to let down. The trail Campbell had disappeared on led to a small town called Nelson's Corner, and if he hurried he could be there in an hour or so. The young cadet changed quickly and slipped out of the barracks.
Chris ran down the trail, his long legs cutting the distance between him and the town. His well-toned body made it an easy run for and the bright moon lit the way as he made his way down the trail. His eyes caught movement in a clearing on the right and he pulled to a stop. Chris saw Campbell sitting in the darkness, gun in hand and a bottle tipped up to his head. Baker seemed oblivious to Larabee's presence and Chris knew he had to be careful. The blond had no idea how much liquor his friend had already consumed, but he couldn't take the chance of startling him. He stood for a few minutes, working out the best way to approach his friend. His mind was made up for him as Campbell raised the gun instead of the bottle. The young man raced forward and his hand gripped the gun, bringing it down and away from Campbell's body.
"No!" the older man hissed drunkenly. "Leave me be!"
Campbell's words were slurred, but the man's larger bulk put Chris at a disadvantage. They struggled for leverage and Chris soon found himself on his back with Campbell's weight baring down on him. He knew in Campbell's drunken state he didn't know who Chris was and he tried to speak as the gun began to descend towards his chest.
"Ba...ker....It's Ch...ris," the young cadet tried to form the words, but all his strength went into deflecting the weapon. Inch by inch the gun came down, the moon glinting off its barrel as it swung closer. He felt Campbell's strength as the trigger began to ease back on the trigger. "BAKER!" he hissed and saw the wide eyes widen as the hammer clicked and an incredible wave of pain hit his arm. He felt the weight leave his body and rolled onto his side. His right hand came up to cover the wound on his left shoulder. The biting pain sent waves of fire through his arm and into his shoulder.
Baker looked at the cadet lying on the ground. Larabee's final call had gotten through his drunken rage and he'd been able to deflect the gun at the last instant, but he knew it had not been enough. He saw Larabee turn on his side and heard the soft grunt of pain. Fear shone in his eyes as he realized he'd almost killed his best friend. He knelt beside the injured man and eased him onto his back. "Jesus, Chris, I'm sorry," he muttered as he peeled Larabee's fingers from the wound. "Shit! Dammit, Larabee, why didn't you just stay at the barracks?"
"Saw the l...letter...knew....she hurt you," Chris hissed as he sat up, his bloodied fingers once more wrapping around his arm.
"She l....left...you read it?" he asked, his eyes filled with sadness and pain.
"Yeah, didn't mean to, but...knew you were in trouble. Couldn't let you throw it all away because of her. She's not worth it."
"You shouldn't have come after me."
"No choice. You needed someone and I'm supposed to be your friend."
"I could've killed you."
"You didn't."
"How bad?"
"I think it just creased my shoulder."
"Let me see," Campbell ordered as he again eased Larabee's fingers from the wound. He studied the still bleeding gouge and tore a strip from his shirt. "It's not too bad. Bleeding a lot though."
Larabee hissed as Campbell applied pressure to the wound. "Shit!"
"First time?"
"What?"
"Being shot?"
"Yeah, hurts like a son of a bitch."
"I bet. Let me tie this off and we'll get back to the barracks. Doc Caleb can..."
"No...No doctor..."
"Chris, you need to see the doctor."
"No, can't. They'd have to report it."
"I'm gonna turn myself in anyway."
"No, Baker, you do that and she'll have won. That letter was mean and she meant to hurt you. I'm not gonna let you throw it all away because of a Dear John letter."
"Chris, I shot you..."
"An accident."
"Chris..."
"Baker, we can keep the wound clean and covered. It's not deep and doesn't need stitches. Help me back to the barracks and we'll clean it up and no one will ever know, but you need to promise me something."
Campbell took a deep breath as he studied the serious face. "Anything."
"If you start feeling like you did tonight you come get me and we'll talk. You don't need to deal with this alone. I'm always ready to listen," Larabee told his friend and saw the moisture in his eyes. He watched as the older man tied off the makeshift bandage and took a deep breath as he struggled to stand up.
"Thanks, Chris, I'll never forget this," he vowed, the eyes lending truth to his words. "Now let's get you back home." He reached down and pulled the younger man to his feet and eased his uninjured arm over his shoulder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We were able to keep it to ourselves and never spoke of the incident after. Baker never heard from Juliet after that and we never spoke of her letter. He graduated from West Point and I didn't see him again until he rode into Four Corners."
"What's he doin' now?"
"I'm not sure, Vin. We haven't really talked about. Figured if he was up to no good he would've done it by now."
The sharpshooter watched as Larabee placed his head in his hands. He could tell the talk had taken a lot out of the gunslinger and knew he needed to lie down, but he also needed to eat. "Head hurtin'?"
"Yeah," Larabee winced as he stood and headed back inside. He used his hands and felt his way towards the bed before dropping heavily onto the mattress. He heard Vin moving around and felt someone standing in front of him. A cup was placed in his hands and he sniffed it. "Thanks."
"Any time," Tanner said as he watched the gunslinger drink the fiery liquid. The tracker knew Larabee would take it a lot easier than the laudanum and it would probably ease his stomach a little, or dull the pain enough for the man to sleep. Vin took the empty glass back and watched as the injured man lay back on the bed. He sighed as the sightless eyes closed and his friend seemed to drift towards sleep.
Vin returned to the table and picked at the meal he'd prepared. He knew how much a man, especially a man with Chris' reputation, needed his sight, and he prayed that Larabee's would return.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phillip Rollins stood at the bar listening to the conversations around him. He'd been in town three days now and made sure to keep a low profile. He knew people who'd seen him laughed behind his back because he was considered a coward, but he didn't care. No matter how many times he'd backed down from a fight people still respected him, not for his own reputation, but because of the man he rode with. He'd known Jake Peters was coming to Four Corners to challenge Chris Larabee. From what he'd overheard, Larabee had taken down Peters and this shocked him. Rollins knew Peters and considered him one of the fastest guns around, and purposely cultured a friendship with the man in order to gain a small reputation of his own. No one dared challenge him because they were afraid Peters would come after them. Now Peters was dead, but there was still a chance to save his own reputation. All that needed to be done was to finish what Peters started, kill Chris Larabee. He smiled as he realized how easy that would be. From all accounts Larabee had not come out of the gunfight unscathed, Jake had managed to hit him and now Larabee was blind. Rollins turned and surveyed the people in the saloon. Two men sat at the back, one dressed in a red coat and shuffling a deck of cards, the second was a larger man in a serape and leaning heavily against the wall. He knew they were two of the seven peacekeepers who protected the town, two others were out on patrol and a fifth was in the clinic over the livery. He knew Larabee was at his shack and that the final peacekeeper was there with him. All he had to do was ride out to the shack, take care of Tanner and challenge Larabee. The fact that it would not be a fair gunfight didn't bother Rollins, a reputation was a reputation and how it was made didn't matter. He downed the last of his whiskey, left the saloon, mounted a tall Bay and rode slowly out of town. No one seemed to notice the unobtrusive man as he left Four Corners in search of revenge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next few days were a jumble to Chris. He'd go to sleep with darkness and wake up to the same. He began to wonder why he even bothered to open his eyes, nothing changed, no images met his eyes. Nathan came out a couple of times and the stitches were finally removed from the bullet wound. His headaches continued, but the severity seemed to diminish until they were more of a dull throb, an annoyance rather than a problem. Once in a while the pain came back in full force and he'd be forced to take to his bed once more to ride it out. It was on those occasions when his stomach would once again rebel against the idea of food. He knew the others were worried about him, but there was nothing he could do about it. He sighed as he sat up, unsure if it was day or night as he slid his legs over the edge.
"Morning, Chris."
Larabee smiled at the sharpshooter's greeting. Vin had made it a point to say hello by using the time of day in his greeting. "Morning, any coffee?"
"Just made a pot. You want it here or outside?"
"Outside," Larabee stood up and slowly walked to the door. The gunslinger felt weak and knew it was due to the inability to eat enough food, but he was beginning to feel a little better in spite of the ever present darkness. He found the edge of the frame, stepped into the warm sunshine, and smiled as he heard a soft whinny from the corral. Chris used the edge of the railing and made his way down the single step. He crossed the short distance to the corral and smiled as he reached the fence. He reached over the edge and felt Diablo's breath on his hand.
"Hey, Boy," he greeted as he patted the animal's neck. He felt around the post until he found the brush and carefully tended the gelding, a smile on his face as the horse showed its happiness by whinnying loudly. He felt Vin Tanner watching him, but kept talking to the two horses in the corral.
"Coffee's gettin' cold," Tanner called out fifteen minutes later. He knew how good this was for the gunslinger, yet again it was important to make sure he took care of himself. He watched as Larabee placed the brush on top of the post and turned to walk back to the porch. He held his breath as the blond staggered but didn't go down. He curtailed the temptation to help him, knowing Larabee needed to build up his confidence.
Chris smiled sheepishly as he made it to the porch and sat down on the step. He knew Tanner had seen him stumble and was grateful for his silence. He took the cup of coffee and sipped at the strong brew. The two men sat in companionable silence, content to listen to the sounds of nature around them. A birds shrill whistle, a soft breeze through the trees, the sounds made as Diablo and Unalii circled the corral, lulled the two men into a sense of security. Chris sighed heavily as he finished the coffee. His head was pounding again, but there was something else, something he didn't want to tell his companion about until he was sure. The pain continued to escalate and he knew he needed to lie down before his head exploded.
"Go ahead, Chris," Tanner said, seeing the telltale signs of pain on Larabee's face.
Chris didn't say a word as he stood up and slowly made his way into the cabin. He felt Vin's presence behind him and knew the trigger like reflexes were there if his strength gave out. He sank onto the bed and was instantly asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Rollins watched the tiny cabin for any sign of movement. He could see a man tending the horses and knew this had to be Vin Tanner. He knew the best thing to do was walk his horse into the yard and act like he'd just stumbled onto them. He took the Bay's reins and slowly walked towards the small cabin.
Vin's head came up and he looked around. His eyes came to rest on a man walking towards him. He reached for his Mare's leg resting against the side of the corral and made sure it was loaded. He was instantly on alert as the man led his horse into the yard.
"Mighty glad to see yer place, mister. Was hopin' to get directions."
"Where are ya headin'? Tanner asked
"Lookin' fer a town called Four Corners. Got business there before I head west," Phillips said as he eyed the younger man.
There was something about the stranger that bothered him and Vin made sure he kept his fingers close to the weapon. A sound from inside the cabin startled him and he turned his head for a split second. It was all the time Rollin's needed. He had his gun out and pointed at the sharpshooter.
"Stay where ya are, Tanner!" Rollins warned. He smiled as he saw the hesitation in Tanner's tautly strung body. "I wouldn't! I can cut ya down 'fore ya blink!"
Vin knew the man was right and he glared at him. There'd been no sound from inside the cabin since he'd been distracted and he prayed Chris wouldn't come out now. "What the hell do ya want?"
"Ain't after you, Tanner, although it might be an added bonus if I can take ya back to Tascosa for that reward on yer head. Right now it's Larabee I'm interested in. Now you just turn around and put yer hands behind yer back!"
Vin hesitated once more but the cocking of the pistol sent a clear message that this man wouldn't hesitate to shoot him. 'Can't let him get to Chris!' he thought and his instincts kicked in. He turned and dove for the newcomer, but the man had seen him coming. The butt of the pistol slammed into his head and Vin dropped to the ground. He blinked rapidly, trying to stay conscious as the world seemed to spin rapidly. He felt something being wrapped around his wrists and knew he'd lost any hope of helping his friend.
Chris sat up quickly and realized he must've passed out for a few minutes. He'd heard Vin talking to someone and wanted to make sure everything was okay. He'd been sleeping since they'd shared the coffee outside and once he opened his eyes he realized he was able to see shadows. Not clear ones and certainly not enough to get around by, but his sight was returning. He smiled until a shout from outside brought him back to the reason he'd woke up in the first place. The pain was still present, but at least it wasn't the all consuming agony it was earlier.
"Hey, Larabee, get out 'ere or I'll kill Tanner!"
He pushed upwards until he was on his feet. His knees threatened to give out, but he forced back the weakness as he squinted into the shadows. He knew his gun would be hanging over the chair by the bed and he reached for it. He buckled it on as the voice came again.
"Ain't got all day, Larabee. Tanner's got ten seconds 'fore I put a bullet in 'im!"
"God Damn you! He's blind!" the sharpshooter said as Rollins completed the threat he knew would bring Larabee outside.
"Think that matters?" Rollins asked. "He killed my partner and now he's gonna die. At least I'm gonna give 'im a chance. Did ya hear me, Larabee?"
"I heard you!" Chris said as he stepped into the shadowy doorway. The sun was brighter now, but shadows were still all he could see and even those were hard to discern. The bright sunlight drilled holes through his skull and made it difficult for him to focus. His stomach churned, but he fought it down and tried to find Vin Tanner. He knew this man was a coward as soon as he'd heard Vin tell him Chris was blind. The man's declaration that it didn't matter was all Chris needed to know. He knew he had little or no chance of beating the newcomer. He knew his only chance was to bluff his way out. 'A blind man's bluff,' he thought. He sucked in a deep breath and took a step into the open.
"I came ta take ya down, Larabee."
Chris stepped into the yard, a cocky grin forming on his face as he caught sight of the shadowy movement against the bright backdrop of sunlight. "Others have tried!" The grin grew wider.
Rollins faltered as Larabee stepped into the sunlight. The look on this man's face was not one of utter defeat he expected to see. There was no hint of blindness in the eyes that looked straight at him. The set of the shoulders and the placement of the legs oozed confidence. He took a deep breath as he looked at the gunslinger. The man's eyes never wavered, the steady cold gaze was directed at him. He shifted to the right and gasped as Larabee followed him.
Chris saw the movement and knew he needed this man to believe he could see him clearly. "Are you ready to die?"
"Ain't g...gonna be me that dies, Larabee!" He hated the slight tremor in his voice, yet something about this man was frightening. "I could shoot ya even if ya could see."
"Then why the hell don't ya wait until he's got 'is sight back?" the sharpshooter growled as he struggled against the encroaching darkness.
"Who says I can't see?" Larabee grinned as he turned his gaze on the sharpshooter.
"Ya can?" Rollins asked.
Larabee cocked his head to the side and smiled at the man. "Guess there's only one way ta find out. Say your prayers..."
"I, ah, I was just...Ya know..."
"Come on, I don't have all day. Draw!" Larabee's fingers flexed over his gun. His eyes were watering, his head swimming, but he refused to even blink.
"No! I don't...I's jest funnin' with ya, Mister. Please, Mister, I didn't mean nuthin' by it. Sorry I 'urt yer friend."
Larabee's vision blurred further, but he had to finish it. He walked towards the newcomer, fighting his body's weakness and refusing to give voice to the pain in his head. He stood in front of the man and snarled. "You got two minutes to mount up and get off my property or I'll shoot you where you stand."
"Okay, I...I'm gone." Rollin's raced to his horse and mounted up. He didn't hear the laughter that followed him, all he knew was he had to get out of there before Larabee put a bullet in him.
Chris stood his ground until he was sure the gunman was out of sight and wouldn't be returning. His head felt like it had split in two as he sank to his knees. He clenched his eyes in an effort to stay awake as he knelt beside the tracker. He knew the younger man was speaking to him, but there was only the pounding roar in his skull. He felt for the ropes and quickly undid the knots, before he laid back on the ground.
"Chris, are ya okay?"
"F...fine," Larabee said as he lost the contents of his stomach and passed out.
Vin's head was finally clearing and he wanted to get Larabee back to town in case Rollins decided to return. He quickly readied the horses and wondered how he would keep Larabee in the saddle if he couldn't keep his own eyes focused. A soft moan from the ground told him Larabee was stirring and he knelt beside him.
"Chris."
"Yeah."
"I'm gonna get ya back ta town so Nathan can take a look at ya."
"I'm fine, Vin."
Tanner knew there'd be no point in arguing with the gunslinger and used his own injury to ensure the gunslinger's cooperation. "I don't think either one of us is fine, Cowboy."
Larabee sat up quickly and moaned as fireworks went off in his head. "What's wrong, Vin? You hurt?"
"Yeah, got a hell of a headache where he pistol whipped me."
"Guess that makes two of us," Larabee winced as Tanner helped him to his feet. "Are you okay to ride?"
"I'm fine. Come on." The two men mounted the horses and Tanner led them towards Four Corners. He was afraid to ask if Chris could see, afraid of hearing the answer he didn't want. 'Hell of a bluff, Chris!' he thought as they rode away from the cabin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey, Nate, Vin and Chris are ridin' in," Dunne said as he pushed open the doors of the saloon.
Four men stood up and hurried towards the doors.
"Hope nuthin's happened to them," Jackson said as he watched the two riders moving slowly towards them.
"We're talking about Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner. What could possibly happen to them," Standish blustered sarcastically and laughed with the others.
Nathan hurried ahead to meet the two men as Larabee listed in the saddle. "How are you doing, Chris?" he asked.
"I'm fine, Nathan. Vin's the one who needs help."
"Is that so? What happened?" He asked as Tanner slid from the saddle.
"Friend of Peters stopped by Chris' place and wanted to call him out..."
"But Chris is blind," Dunne hissed angrily.
"Yeah and you need a shave, Kid," Larabee said as he slid from the saddle.
"I was on my ....Hey, how'd you know that?"
"I can see..."
"You ol' war dog. How?" Wilmington slapped Larabee on the back as Jackson inspected the injury to Vin's head.
"It just started coming back this morning."
"So where is this acquaintance of Peters?"
"Chris bluffed him out," Tanner laughed. "The fool nearly shook in his boots with Chris glaring down on him."
"Hell, that glare probably scared him away," Wilmington laughed.
"How much can you see?" Jackson asked.
"It's mostly just shadows unless I'm up close. Can see JD's shadow real well."
"Vin, how's your vision?" the healer asked.
"Okay. Was a little blurry, but it's fine now."
"Alright, let's get you two up to the clinic so I can have a good look at you."
"I'd rather have a drink first, Nathan," Larabee said as he headed for the dark outline of the saloon.
"Chris!"
"Nathan, let him have one. We got something to celebrate, Brothers," Sanchez said as he followed Larabee towards the saloon.
"Chris!"
The gunslinger stopped and turned at the sound of the familiar female voice. "Mary," he said as she stepped up beside him.
"How are you feeling?"
Larabee squinted against the bright sunlight until her face came into focus. He lifted his hand and gently wiped at her cheek, smiling at the frown on her face he showed her his hand and smiled. "You got ink on your face, Mary."
"I do?" she asked, her hand automatically going to her cheek. Her blue eyes widened in surprise as his words hit her. "Chris, you can..."
"I can see, Mary." He leaned close to her hear and whispered for her ears only. "And you look beautiful even in ink."
"Chris." A slight blush rose to her cheeks at his words. "I'm so glad," she said as tears formed in her eyes and he wiped them away.
"Thanks, Mary. I'll see you later okay?"
"Okay."
"Mary, we're gonna have one drink and then we'll be at the clinic," Jackson informed her and held up his hands. "Chris, you've lost weight and I know you're not eating properly yet so we gotta be careful. No arguments or we go to the clinic now."
Chris touched her cheek once more and walked towards the saloon. He knew Jackson was right and it would take some time for him to build his strength back up, but at least he would be able to see again and for that he was grateful. He followed the others into the saloon and moved to the regular table. The headache was returning and he knew one drink would probably be all he could handle. He sat down and smiled as Inez placed a glass of whiskey in front of him. He spotted Baker Campbell at the next table and lifted his glass. The other man returned he gesture, but left Chris to the company of his new friends.
THE END
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