Hunted
By: The Scribe
Editor: Lady Angel
They say the road to Perdition is paved with good intentions.
At this moment, his good intentions looked a great deal more like deception.
Looking in the mirror, he did not know who he was or why he was continuing this pursuit. With each passing day, the man in the glass appeared less and less like him and more like a stranger who was prepared to sell out his friends. It was foolishness, of course, because his reflection remained unchanged. The man he was, when examined closely, was no different except now the image was now burdened with a weight he had not expected to carry when he first rode into Four Corners.
Strange how a place could have so much power over a man who had spent his life roaming from one dusty old cow town, watering hole, and plain forgotten outpost to another, only to find comfort in a place that was little more than a collection of buildings. A collection that struggled daily to keep itself from being buried by the sands borne of the harsh desert wind. He had not intended to stay long enough to like this town but he had. Now it was a weakness that gnawed intensely at him. Almost as intensely as the reason he had come to Four Corners in the first place.
This could not go on.
It was breaking him inside to continue. Each day, he found his resolve starting to crumble just a little more and he was too set in his ways to be deconstructed so late in life. He had to remind himself of who he was before he came to this town and not let the situation drive itself beneath his skin like a splinter of wood. Yet discarding the persona he had worn since arriving would mean losing the trust of one of his oldest friends. As much as he told himself it was a necessary sacrifice, there was a part of him that did not wish to do this. He knew he should have acted months ago but loyalty to the man he owed more than just friendship stayed his hand. Now the situation had taken on a life of its own and he had run out of time.
It was time to act and for the life of him, Baker Campbell hated being forced into it.
For months now, he had been delaying the inevitable. He had spent months in Four Corners, watching and waiting, trying to ascertain how this paradox before him had come to be and finding no answers. His whole life had been spent on following his gut instinct but, on this occasion, it failed him completely. His heart said one thing, while his mind said another. In the scheme of things, he supposed it did not really matter whether or not he could reconcile the two. Duty was an entity existing separately from either and it was not conflicted on what needed to be done.
To Chris Larabee and the residents of Four Corners, he was Baker Campbell, an old friend of the black garbed leader of the lawmen known as the “Magnificent Seven.” He had befriended the group and became a regular face around town, which was more than he had ever intended to be. His original plan had been simple enough: remain in Four Corners for a few days and study his target before the kill. So to speak.
What he had never counted on was the fact that he would find Chris Larabee here. The gunslinger's presence changed everything.
Unexpected or not, explanations were not going to be enough to salve Chris' anger when Baker stood before him and revealed the truth. He was not simply Baker Campbell, his old friend, but rather a US Marshall who had come to town on the trail of a wanted a fugitive.
A fugitive who just happened to go by the name of Vin Tanner.
Even now, Baker had trouble believing that the man was wanted for murder. Unfortunately, it was not Baker's job to question whether or not justice had been done, only to see that it was carried out Tanner had been found guilty by the law in Texas and that was all he needed to know. This simple acknowledgement of the facts alone should have comforted him. Lord knows it had done so in the past, but this time, simply telling himself that a man was guilty of a crime was doing nothing to convince him of it. In the heart of him, Baker knew that following such an immutable creed was restrictive and unyielding. Things could exist in shades of grey but until now he had never confronted with the situation of having to decide for himself.
Vin Tanner was not a murderer.
In every fibre of his being, Baker knew this. He knew the sharpshooter was not guilty of the crime for which he had been accused and tried. There was a difference between being forced to kill and being a killer: Vin Tanner was definitely of the former. A man who stood between life and death in the protection of the innocent on a regular basis could not have committed the crime that Tanner was being accused. Yet, Vin had been found guilty of murder no matter how much Baker debated it or refused to believe it. However, more pressing than even that conundrum was how someone like Chris Larabee could befriend someone that was capable of cold-blooded murder?
Since Baker knew Chris so well, the answer so relatively simple. Chris would not.
The Chris Larabee he knew would never knowingly stand by a man accused of the crime that Vin Tanner was. Despite the tragedies that had been visited upon the gunslinger in the years since Baker had known him, Chris had not shaken that cloak of self-righteousness that made him so distinguishable among men. However, Chris' relationship with Vin was more than friendship, it was almost brotherhood. Even if they did not share the same blood, Baker had no doubt in his mind that Chris would protect the younger man like a blood kin if anyone attempted to hurt him. Unfortunately, making Vin answer for crimes, he may or may not have committed in Texas, certainly constituted as such.
The night air was frosty even in the desert and as he debated these things, with the lights of Four Corners awaiting him on the distant horizon, Baker knew that everything running through his mind was academic, not to mention pointless. The silver star languishing within the folds of a handkerchief during his occupation of Four Corners had made its triumphant return tonight and it gleamed proudly under the moonlight. Feeling it on his lapel gave Baker some measure of comfort, reminding him who he was and what he had to do. The marshal reached into his pocket watch and studied the clock face once more, growing impatient by the waiting.
Fortunately, he did not have long to wait and was less then surprised when he heard the hooves of horses against the dirt approaching him rapidly. Instinctively, his hand went for his gun because it was never wise to simply assume that whoever was riding up was a friend, even if he was expecting them. A few more minutes passed before the sound was given form and finally a group of four riders crested the hill beyond the trees surrounding his campsite. Baker rose to his feet, his posture visibly relaxed because he recognized them under the glow of the moonlight and knew there was no danger.
His horse, named Fiddler's Green for no other reason other than the fact that he liked how it sounded, offered a little nicker and a flick of its tale at the presence of other horses approaching. The riders closed the distance between themselves and the campfire, tethering their horses to the same tree Baker had used for his own horse before entering the circle of fire.
"Marshal," a tall, thin man with pale features dressed in a tan duster and a hat too big for him greeted Baker with a handshake. "It's good to see you," he said earnestly upon removing his hat and running his hand through his sweat plastered dark hair, "didn't think we were ever gonna get your call."
"Good to see you too, Gilmore," Baker replied with just as much warmth. Mike Gilmore was a deputy marshal often lending him assistance whenever Baker had a particularly difficult outlaw to deal with. Usually, Gilmore's help was all that he needed, but on this occasion, Baker was taking no chances and had recruited others.
"I rounded up Vess and Muth like you asked," he glanced over his shoulder at the two men behind him.
Vess was a stocky, middle aged man with thinning hair and rotten teeth. Despite his appearances, he was a good tracker and had ridden by Baker's side enough for him to consider reliable. Muth was the youngest of them, fresh out of the army and looking to make himself a marshal some day in the future. The kid was a straight arrow, if a little too hungry for Baker's liking, but then he was young and no less driven as Baker had been at his age.
"Howdy, marshal, been awhile since the last time." Vess tipped his hat at Baker as he chewed on tobacco, making loud squelching noises that were the main reason why he was still unmarried at his age. "I was beginning to think you'd gone and retired." He grinned.
"Never happen," Baker retorted and made eye contact with Muth. "Ain't you made marshal yet, Muth?"
The comment drew a snigger from the others and the young man laughed good naturedly, accustomed to the marshal's ribbing about his dedication to acquiring a tin star of his own.
"I'm still working on it Marshal," he replied before Baker's attention turned to the last member of their company.
"Hey, Roman," Baker tipped his hat at the former lawyer turned marshal.
Roman Klein had been a lawyer for some years in Arizona before discovering enforcing the law held more fascination for him than arguing it. Klein was roughly Baker's age and spoke with an eastern air. If one did not know better, it would have been easy to mistake the man for something of a bookworm since he looked more suited to being inside a library than behind a gun.
"Baker," Roman greeted, revealing his greying hair tied neatly with a leather thong when he removed his hat. "I was surprised when Gilmore here told me you asked me to join you boys. Not that I'm averse to riding with you, just kind of curious."
In truth, Baker did not know why he had sent for Roman. If another gun was all that he needed, there were a dozen names off the top of his head that would have served just as well but something almost as compelling as instinct drove him to request Roman's presence for the task ahead.
"I feel the need to have your company on this one, Roman," Baker answered after a moment, "I don't know why yet."
Roman stared at him a moment, trying to decide whether or not this was a good answer, before he replied to Baker's statement, "I guess we'll work it out together."
"I guess we will." Baker offered him a wry smile and bade the others around the campfire, where a bottle of whisky was promptly produced and passed around in good order.
After everyone was sufficiently satisfied with a swig of whiskey to warm them far more effectively then could be managed by any fire, Baker decided to get to the business at hand.
"I called you boys here for a good reason," he began when all eyes were upon him and waiting for him to continue. "I've got a bounty to bring in and its not going to be easy. The outlaw we're after has been charged and tried of murder in Tascosa."
"Ain't that for the Texas Rangers to bring him in?" Vess inquired.
"No, the Rangers aren't too happy to deal with this one and there's a territorial judge involved in the whole mess that might just make things ugly. If too many people get involved, the judge could be facing trouble for allowing this to go as far as he did."
"What's a judge got to do with an outlaw?" Muth asked with obvious puzzlement.
"Apparently the outlaw works for him," Baker replied, trying to make his references to Vin Tanner as impersonal as possible because detachment was essential if the Marshal was going to do his job. "He is one of seven men protecting that town over there."
"Protecting?" Gilmore stared at him. "Like a lawman?"
"Like a lawman." Baker nodded grimly. "Doing a pretty good job of it too. Apparently, the town was a little bit of a hell hole before the seven of them took on the role of lawmen."
Confusion swept through their faces except that of Klein who simply remained silent, observing what was being said and allowing the others to ask the obvious questions. Baker could not blame them for their puzzlement; he himself had been wrestling with the paradox of the whole thing.
"I don't know of many outlaws that take to protecting a town unless there's something in it for him," Gilmore retorted with natural skepticism.
"Nope, nothing like that," Baker ended that particular speculation swiftly. "Apparently, he just works for a dollar a day, free room and board."
"Okay," Muth spoke up, "I'm getting confused here. He is wanted for murder, isn't he?"
"Yep," Baker nodded, "tried and convicted of the crime. He claims he didn't do it, that he was tracking another outlaw by the name of Ely Joe, who tricked him. Apparently, Tanner, that's his name, had never seen Ely Joe before and he found a dead body matching the man's description. When he brought the body in, it was discovered that it was a farmer named Jesse Kincaid. The sheriff of Tascosa naturally assumed that Tanner killed Kincaid to claim the bounty."
"And he was convicted on that alone?" Roman inquired, starting to understand why Baker had brought him in on this.
"More or less." Baker shrugged. "You know these small town lawmen, they usually don't spend a lot of time investigating and Tanner didn't help matters much by taking off either."
"That's for sure," Vess retorted. "So what are we gonna do, bring him in to hang?"
"That's about the size of it," Baker admitted distastefully. "But it ain't going to be easy; we have to get through his friends to reach him."
"Hell, we've done that before," Gilmore said smugly.
"Maybe you have," Baker replied, wondering if he ought to tell them why this instance was so different and supposed they had a right to know what they were in for. "But his friends will die before they let us take him to Tascosa to hang.”
"Can't say I blame them," Roman replied. "If he ran from Tascosa, there'll be a lynch mob waiting for him when we bring him in."
"It's not just that," Baker sighed, sparing them nothing in the knowledge of just how much resistance they would encounter in Four Corners. "They think he is innocent."
"You're kidding," Muth exclaimed incredulously.
Baker wished this were a joke but then he never joked when it came to friends or family and very soon, Chris Larabee would be neither.
ACT ONE
Vin Tanner did not dream often, but when he did, they were usually of two things.
Sometimes, he would see himself as a child, weeping over the bed of the mother that would never again wake up. Her last words still ringing in his ears. In the dreamscape, he would often return to this moment, easily the worst event of his life, reliving it over and over again, like a kaleidoscope that knew no end. In the waking world, his memories of the event were like the fading colours of a painting where a picture could be seen but the details appeared vague and indistinct. In his dreams, everything was presented before him in perfect clarity. While there was apart of him that welcomed this definition, the child he was weeping at his mother's deathbed, did not.
In recent years, however, the dream of his mother's loss had become superseded by another, more potent and relevant, image for his adulthood and that it almost involved a hangman's noose. With the heat of the noon day sun burning into his back as he stood on the floor of the gallows, Vin would find the image of the looped rope burning equally into his eyes. It would swing ominously before him as he looked down into the faces of the townspeople and discovered that they had no features except gaping mouths that hissed his name in derision through serrated teeth. Leading them, would be the six men he called his friends.
It was at this point that Vin would wake up in a cold sweat, just shy of screaming out in terror. Like he was doing this instant.
Vin felt the rivulets of sweat running down his body and knew that, despite it being the middle of winter, he was perspiring as if he had been languishing in summer heat. He hardly noticed the moisture running down his spine and brow since he was more focused on bringing his panting breath back to normal. It disturbed him to discover that it was not easy.
The dreams had been plaguing him for an entire week now and try as he might to think that they were just dreams, inconsequential and just as intangible to his day to day existence, Vin could not shake the feeling that something ominous was stalking him in silence. He had been gripped with this feeling for quite some time now and instead of slackening in its intensity, it had grown steadily worse until he could almost feel the cold weight of a gun barrel against his skin.
It was not the first time he had encountered such feelings before. After all, he had lived with the weight of a murder charge over his head for almost three years and though he did not show it, the burden affected him more than he would like to admit. It was not an easy thing to live with the fact of being a hunted man, that at any point in time, he could be made to answer for the crimes he had been falsely accused. There was a part of him that knew he should have taken care of it long before this but with the death of Ely Joe at Chris Larabee's hands two years ago, Vin was at a loss over how to go about the business of clearing his name. The only person who could collaborate his story of innocence was dead and the rest of the world had already branded him a killer.
It was no wonder he had bad dreams.
Deciding that he would forgo the ordeal of trying to get back to sleep, Vin got dressed and climbed out his wagon, suddenly overcome with the need for a drink. Since he could hear lively music playing in the distance, he assumed the saloon was still open. Although Vin did not crave alcohol the way Chris was known to whenever the gunslinger was in a particular dark mood, tonight he felt himself needing something to chase away the demons that had taunted him in his sleep.
Emerging out of the shadows where his wagon was hidden, Vin strolled at an easy pace towards the saloon. Even though he did not own a pocket watch as such, the sound of voices and music told him that it was not that late into the night. No more than midnight he guessed. He wondered if the others would be up at this time of night. Buck was almost certainly entertaining a saloon girl by now, unless he was attempting to endure another exercise in self-abuse by attempting to cajole Inez into giving him the time of day. JD was not that prodigious a drinker so if the kid was still in the saloon, Vin expected him to be under a table by now.
In the old days, he would have almost certainly expected to see Chris there but since the gunslinger had been openly courting Mary Travis, the instances where he needed to drown his sorrow for his dead wife and son were dwindling. These days, if Chris felt the need to become seriously drunk, he tended to do it out at the shack in private. In that way, Josiah and Chris were very much alike. The preacher drank alone when he was plagued by demons. Nathan, on the other hand, turned in early; rarely staying up late drinking because there was just so much for him to do, either in the capacity of peacekeeper or the town's makeshift doctor.
Which only left Ezra and Vin knew that he would find the gambler at their customary table even before he stepped inside the saloon.
The gambler was no drunk but he was not one to leave a saloon unless everyone that could possibly give him a run for his money at the gambling table had left for the night. Even then, Vin had occasionally caught sight of him at the table, playing a lonely game of solitaire with his favourite deck of cards. Vin had this odd suspicion that Ezra did not sleep well either and found solace for his insomnia the only way a gambler of his experience would know.
It was no different on this occasion when Vin stepped into the saloon and found Ezra at his table, gesturing to a barmaid to bring him a refill while he carefully laid out of his cards for solitaire. The saloon was not quite empty as evidenced by the piano playing and the few stragglers left at the bar and scattered around the room with accommodating saloon girls either in their laps or even more intimate positions. Ezra seemed oblivious to this, his sea green eyes focussed on the picture cards before him. As he approached the gambler, Ezra straightened up in his seat and offered the younger man a little smile.
"Hey Ez," Vin greeted as pulled up a chair at table.
"Mr. Tanner," Ezra drawled smoothly in that heavy southern accent, "I thought you had retired for the evening."
"So did I," Vin replied unhappily as he gestured to a passing barmaid for a drink. He looked around for Inez and was slightly disappointed to see that the sultry Mexican was not around. He supposed since she ran the place almost the entire day, it was not unreasonable for her to turn over the late night duties at the saloon to one of the girls she had hired.
"I take it you are having trouble attaining a suitable repose?" The gambler ventured a guess as his hands deftly worked the cards before him.
"If you mean am I having trouble sleeping, you can take it right," Vin retorted with a frown.
"Try warm milk?" Ezra teased with a little smile.
Vin gave him a sharp look and then replied, "That work for you?"
"Only when delivered with a half a bottle of whisky," he grinned mischievously.
Vin chuckled a little himself and then confessed, "Sleeping ain't the trouble. It's the dreaming that wakes me up."
Ezra cocked a brow in surprise. "Bad dreams?"
"Nightmares more like it." Vin shrugged, feeling uncomfortable about discussing something so private. Yet next to Chris, Ezra was probably the only one he could confide something like this to.
"What about if I may be so bold as to inquire?" Ezra asked, having forgotten his game completely.
"The same," Vin sighed. "Me hanging at the end of a rope."
Ezra flinched in sympathy but he was really not surprised by Vin's answer. What else would a man with a death mark dream about in his nightmares? Ezra, who had a few demons of his own, though with less urgency as the bounty on Vin's head, could understand the man's distress. However, he also noticed that despite Vin's stoic manner, there was something beneath the surface of the tracker's indifference that indicated that there was more to it than mere discomfort at a nightmare. For a few seconds, Ezra debated whether or not he wanted to draw it out of Vin, for the tracker was a surprisingly private person. He kept counsel to himself fiercely which rather surprised Ezra considering his own desires to protect his secrets.
However, Vin was his friend and Ezra always had an unspoken soft spot for the younger man who never had any trouble placing his trust in Ezra, even when the others seemed to keep the gambler at arm's length. Vin's politics were simple: he always gave a person a chance to earn his trust. For that opportunity, Ezra would always be grateful and willing to impose himself in Vin's business if he needed the help.
"This cannot be the first time you've been plagued by such dreams," Ezra said carefully, "after all, you been in possession of this bounty on your head for quite some time. This is the first time that I have ever seen you losing sleep over it. Unless of course you frequent some other saloon during your bouts of insomnia?" Ezra smiled, his gold tooth letting off a glint.
Vin ordered another drink before he answered, confirming Ezra's suspicion that more than just a nightmare was responsible for his lack of sleep. The tracker did not tell him to mind his business immediately, which gave Ezra hope enough to believe that Vin just might feel like talking.
"You ever get the feeling when something's coming at you?" Vin finally spoke after his beer was placed in front of him and he had taken a good sip of it.
"Something?" Ezra raised a brow.
"You know like something is creeping up on you, except that you don't know who or when it's gonna get to you, just that it's there?"
Ezra, who in his time, had been the object of pursuit either by the law or vengeful victims of his cons could understand something of what Vin was alluding to. "I am familiar with that feeling," he admitted.
"Lately, I've been feeling like that a lot," Vin continued. "I feel like something's coming at me, almost like I was the one being tracked. I done it enough times myself to recognize the signs and I don't think I like how it feels one bit."
Ezra would not presume to doubt Vin on this even if there was every reason for him to be dubious. Vin's ability to track bordered on uncanny at times and had saved his life, and the rest of the seven's, too many times to be discounted.
"I do not blame you," Ezra said sympathetically. "Perhaps we should make inquiries into this. I found that you are seldom incorrect in regards to your perceptions. Perhaps there is more than just intuition at work here. It would help to know Tascosa is dealing with your continued freedom in the face of a murder charge since it is a foregone conclusion that no one will be accepting a bounty for your head."
Vin looked at him, his interest genuinely sparked by Ezra's suggestion. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you are supposed to have killed a man, Vin," Ezra reminded. "I am certain that Tascosa does not have that many outstanding warrants for murder. I would be surprised if they simply let the matter rest on the possibility of someone bringing you in eventually."
"You think they sent someone after me, like a Texas Ranger or something?" Vin stared at him.
"Perhaps not those gentlemen exactly," Ezra remarked, "but someone like them."
"That ain't so crazy I suppose," Vin sighed and met the gambler's gaze. "You know what the truth is, Ez? I should have never let it go this far. I should have gone and cleared my name before this, instead of burying my head, hoping that it would never catch up with me."
"Well, you did not have a choice really," Ezra declared. "Evidence to prove yourself innocent is scarce, even more so since Mr. Larabee inadvertently shot the only person that could have proved it."
"That wasn't his fault," Vin blurted out automatically. "If he hadn't pulled the trigger, Ely Joe would have done me in."
"I am not disputing that fact," Ezra calmed the younger man with a slight gesture of his hand. "I simply mean that you could not be blamed for wishing your own self preservation and you would have jeopardised that considerably if you had returned to Tascosa without evidence of your innocence."
"How come it sounds so good when you say it?" Vin frowned, taking another sip of his beer.
"Well, that comes naturally," Ezra grinned. "Along with my good looks and inordinate charm."
Vin chose to let that remark slide.
**********
It was almost dawn when Vin finally left the tavern after losing half his money to Ezra playing cards while the other half was spent in the next equally worthy pursuit: drinking himself into a slight stupor. Vin figured it was probably the only way he was going to get to sleep. Daylight was still some distance away, although he could see the faint traces of amber appearing on the horizon, a prelude to the eminent sunrise. He paused a moment, admiring the simple beauty of it and wondered if it was the alcohol that was making him so sentimental or his feelings that his past was catching up with him.
Deciding he better get some sleep, since he had promised to accompany Chris to Eagle Bend to pick up a prisoner, Vin made his way across the deserted streets of Four Corners towards his wagon. The little piece of home had followed him for more years than he would like to count and, until recently, was the only permanent fixture in an otherwise solitary life. Reaching it, he felt the day catching up with him and felt a certain amount of satisfaction knowing that he would soon be curled up, fast asleep in familiar surroundings.
The minute he climbed into the wagon, even in his inebriated state, he knew something was wrong. It was nothing tangible that had any substance in the physical world, just a feeling that somewhere, something was out of balance. Unfortunately, it was a realisation he had made too late. The single click of a gun hammer being pulled back had a finality to it that made the tracker shudder under his skin as he froze.
The darkness of the tent did not allow Vin to see his attacker; not that it mattered much in the scheme of things. No sooner than had he spied the shape coming towards him, was a sharp crack of pain across his skull and then the blackness around him became complete.
*************
Chris Larabee was concerned.
Vin should have ridden out to the shack at first light to accompany him to Eagle Bend as planned the day before, but Chris had seen no sign of him. Chris thought that the tracker might have overslept. It was rare but Chris was willing to give Vin the benefit of the doubt. After all, despite their close friendship, Vin was considerably younger than him and, though it would surprise Chris, the gunslinger couldn't rule out that perhaps Vin might have sought female company for the night and lost track of time.
He rode into town after waiting for almost two hours, ornery at the late start and growing slightly concerned at the tracker's continued absence. The more he thought about it, the more unlikely it became that Vin would let anything keep him from his responsibilities. The sharpshooter was stubborn that way and was notoriously reliable. Chris could only ever remember one occasion when he had looked over his shoulder and not seen the younger man take point or watching his back.
By ten o'clock in the morning, Four Corners was well and truly alive with activity. As he stabled his horse at the local livery, he could see people going about their business at brisk pace. With the coming of the railroad, Four Corners was enjoying a sudden burst of commerce usual to small frontier towns whenever the great locomotive project happened by. Women were thick in gossip as they encountered each other on the street on their way to run errands or other business, while shopkeepers swept out their stores and presented their wares for the day in the ever-bustling energy of community life.
It was a far cry from the dusty old town he had remembered when Chris first arrived in Four Corners. Back then, it had been a den of lawlessness, rife with gunfights and violence. In some way, he could not deny feeling proud that he and his six companions had been partially responsible for the peace that Four Corners now enjoyed, though he had to be pressed at gunpoint to admit that out loud.
"Hey, Chris," JD Dunne, the youngest member of seven greeted the black garbed gunslinger when the kid saw him making his way to Standish Tavern.
"JD," Chris answered in turn.
"I thought you were riding to Eagle Bend this morning?" The young man looked at him quizzically.
"So did I," Chris retorted a little more short than he intended. "You seen Vin around?"
"Not this morning," JD answered, recognizing the tension in the man's voice to know that Vin was the reason for his delay. "Wasn't he supposed to go with you?"
"That's what I thought," Chris replied, a tinge of uneasiness seeping into his bones for some reason. "Vin was supposed to meet me at my place but he didn't show."
"That ain't like him," JD declared, stating the obvious, but it said something about Chris' own concerns if the youngest of them thought something was amiss.
"Anyone seen him at all?" Chris asked again, his pace towards the saloon was a faster now.
"I don't know," JD shrugged. "I mean no one's said anything but I just assumed that meant he was off with you to Eagle Bend."
Chris did not speak and hurried onto the boardwalk that would bring him to the bat wing doors of the Standish Tavern. If Vin had been in the place today, Inez would know and if not, the rest of the seven were most likely there getting breakfast and might know more than he did.
"You want me to go check the wagon?" JD offered helpfully.
"Might be an idea," Chris replied, casting the younger man a grateful look of thanks at the suggestion. JD took the acknowledgment with a slight tip of his hat before he turned on his heels and raced away in the direction of Vin's wagon.
Chris tried to think of a reasonable explanation for Vin's disappearance and reminded himself that maybe the tracker decided he needed some space and took off for the wilds for a few days. He had been known to do that on occasion. Lord knows, Vin considered Four Corners a bustling metropolis and sometimes needed to be out in open country to unwind. However, even as the thought crossed Chris' mind, he knew the tracker would never do anything of the kind without first telling someone what he was doing.
In their line of work, it was just plain dangerous not too.
Entering the tavern, his gaze immediately sought out his friends at their usual table. As expected, Josiah, Buck and Nathan were digging into one of Inez's hearty meals, which left an aroma in the air that swiftly inspired Chris' stomach to start rumbling in protest. Ezra was also present but as usual was sticking to just coffee, a good indication that the gambler had been indulging in one of his late night poker binges. The only one missing was Vin.
"Chris," Buck looked up from his plate. "I thought you were going to Eagle Bend this morning."
"Have any of you seen Vin?" Chris asked instead, foregoing the usual pleasantries -- well in his case the atypical grunt of greeting -- in his usual abruptness.
"No." Buck shook his head and as the questions moved around the table, the answer seemed to be the same until it came to Ezra.
"I saw him last night," Ezra offered. "He came into the saloon shortly before midnight in order to soothe his case of insomnia with a game of cards and a stiff drink. It was almost dawn when he left."
"He was supposed to ride to Eagle Bend with me this morning, he never showed," Chris frowned, guessing that if Vin had been up that late last night drinking, the tracker was probably in his wagon sleeping it off.
"One does not get visitations of insomnia by choice, Mr. Larabee," Ezra spoke up in Vin's defence.
"Something bothering him?" Josiah asked casually. "When a man can't sleep it's usually because he's got something on his mind."
"I do not know if I am at liberty to discuss it," Ezra replied, aware of the response he was going to get from Chris. However, even Chris Larabee's scathing glare was not going to betray the confidence of a friend, not unless there was an extremely good reason for it.
"What do you mean?" Nathan looked at him.
"Exactly what I said, Mr. Jackson. Mr. Tanner told me what was bothering him in confidence and I have no wish to betray him, not unless his life is in peril."
The gambler's wording immediately raised alarm bells in Chris but he respected Ezra's decision in this matter. Besides, at this moment, Vin's absence could be attributed to his previous night's activities. In fact, Chris expected JD to turn up any minute to tell him that Vin was either sound asleep in his wagon or mad as hell that JD had awoke him prematurely to face a hangover.
"I'm guessing if we find out different, you're going to be a lot more cooperative?" Chris gave Ezra a look of unmistakable intent.
"I think that would be obvious, Chris," Ezra retorted.
"Good," Chris replied pulling himself a chair and lowering himself into it, deciding he would wait long enough for JD to arrive before he started getting more forceful in his search. He could not deny that the uneasy feeling that had snared him earlier had yet to dissipate and its continued presence told Chris that something was wrong; he just did not know what yet.
As if reading his thoughts on the matter, JD announced himself with the loud creak of the batwing doors as it swung forward at his entry. The young man scanned the room quickly and caught sight of his party. His expression, Chris noticed, was trouble and was enough to force Chris on his feet.
"Did you find him?" Chris asked even though the question seemed obligatory.
"No." JD shook his head. "He ain't there and I think there was blood on his roll."
Before JD could even finish the sentence, Chris was striding past him, bound for the wagon. It took a few seconds for the rest of the seven to join him.
ACT TWO
JD was right. There was blood on Vin's roll.
Not enough to indicate a severe injury but enough to cause concern and it was fresh. Chris could not say just how fresh but since Ezra had seen the younger man last in the small hours of the morning, Chris had a reasonable idea of when it had been spilled. There was no evidence to say that it was Vin's blood either, no matter how overwhelming the evidence might be at present. To JD's untrained eye, the sight of blood was enough to cause concern but when Chris examined the interior of the wagon, he had every reason to believe that something took place here that was not entirely of Vin's volition.
The rest of the seven spread out across town, conducting a strenuous search for the tracker in the hopes that perhaps his injury had prevented him from seeking help. While no one was assuming the worst, they could not deny the thought had crossed their minds. With Vin having a death mark on his head, it was impossible not too. Although it had been some time since any bounty hunter had attempted to claim the bounty on Vin's head, the possibility could not be ruled out that this was precisely what happened.
While the others carried out the search across Four Corners, Chris and Ezra made their way towards the jailhouse. It was highly unlikely that Vin would seek that place as a refuge but Chris was not about to ignore the possibility. It also gave him a chance to speak to Ezra about what had been bothering the tracker to the point of sleeplessness.
"He had a nightmare," Ezra admitted uncomfortably, wishing he had not been forced into this position but considering what they had found, he had little choice but to reveal what had been said between him and the tracker. Particularly when it appeared that Vin's fears had not been so unfounded after all.
"A what?" Chris stared at him.
"A nightmare," Ezra repeated himself with a frown. "Mr. Tanner had a nightmare."
"What about?" Chris asked again, unable to fathom the possibility that Vin could be upset about a bad dream when he had seen the man take out a man from three hundred yards away in the rain, without even batting an eyelash.
"If you were man with a bounty on his head, what would you dream about?" Ezra stared at the gunslinger sarcastically. "He was having nightmares about being led to the gallows and apparently, it's a feeling that he has been experiencing quite frequently of late."
"He never said anything," Chris muttered.
"Do you two actually exchange conversation?" The gambler quipped.
Chris' sharp glare wiped the smirk off Ezra's face almost immediately.
"My point is," he adjusted his collar nervously in the face of Chris' harsh stare, "Mr. Tanner had a premonition of trouble but it was more a sensation than any real knowledge of danger."
"Seems real enough to me, considering he's gone," Chris retorted somewhat annoyed that Vin did not come to him about this. The tracker was his best friend after all, if he confided in anyone, it ought to be Chris. Then again, Chris had never given Vin reason to believe that he would be receptive to talking about something so personal.
Earlier this year, their friendship had almost been damaged irrevocably because Chris could not bring himself to tell Vin how he felt when the tracker had shot and killed Ella Gaines to save his life. After what Ella had done to him and his family, Chris felt cheated that he had been robbed of killing the woman and his subsequent anguish had almost cost his friendship with Vin and his relationship with Mary Travis.
"He claimed he felt as if someone was stalking him," Ezra continued to explain. "That he knew what it was like to track prey enough so that he could recognize it himself."
Chris said nothing because he did not know what to say. In truth, he felt a little guilty because this situation with Vin had been allowed to continue far longer than it should have. Although he was uncertain what could have been done, Chris still felt as if they should have made some effort to clear Vin's name. The murder charge was a weight around Vin's neck that kept his life in a state of limbo. Until he cleared his name, he could make no plans for his future.
"Hello, Chris," Chris heard a familiar voice when he and Ezra entered the jailhouse.
Baker Campbell was seated on a chair next to the desk, appearing as if he had been waiting for Chris for a good amount of time.
"Baker," Chris greeted.
"Mr. Campbell," Ezra tilted his hat in the man's direction, “to what do we owe this pleasure.”
Baker rose to his feet and the glint of metal on the fabric of his vest caught their eye. It was Chris who identified the tin star on his chest and realised the truth, even before he met Baker's gaze and saw the sorrow there.
“No….” Chris shook his head in disbelief. “Don't tell me what I'm thinking is true, Baker,” he said in a tautly restrained voice. “Don't tell me that you've been lying to me since you got here.”
Baker expelled a strained breath, painfully aware that there was no way he was going to avoid this scene. “I'm sorry, Chris. I truly am but I'm a Federal Marshall and I had to do my job.”
“You son of a bitch!” Chris spat fiercely and was across the floor of the jailhouse before Ezra knew what was going on. The gunslinger was on the marshal in seconds, shoving hard against the wall, with pure fury in his eyes
“WHERE IS HE?” Chris demanded and was ready to shoot his 'old friend,' if Baker did not give him an answer.
“He's already on his way to Tascosa!” Baker cried out as Ezra hurried to Chris and made some effort to pull the dark garb gunslinger away from the lawman. However, when the gambler heard those words, he froze in his tracks and suddenly became content to let Chris do what he wished because it was no less than what Ezra himself wanted to do to the marshal who had betrayed them all.
“Damn you!” Chris swore again, his hands clenching around the lapels of Baker's duster ready to kill him for serving up his best friend to a lynch mob. “I trusted you, Baker! I thought we were friends! How the hell could you do this!”
“If it wasn't me, it would have been the Texas Rangers!” Baker struggled to explain himself though he knew that there was never really going to be a way out of this for him. “They wouldn't have cared less whether they brought him in dead or alive! Chris, he murdered a man in Tascosa and they're not willing to let it go, no matter how long ago it was!”
“He didn't do it!” Chris barked, releasing Baker with a sharp push. “The murder was committed by an outlaw named Ely Joe. I know because Ely Joe was here and he admitted it just before he tried to kill Vin!”
Baker was not surprised by the revelation because he knew the character of Chris Larabee would not allow him to stand by a man who had committed such a crime. However, understanding did little to exonerate him from what he had done.
“It ain't up to me to decide whether or not he's innocent, just to bring him in,” Baker said feebly, aware that nothing he could say would salvage their friendship after this.
“You know as well as I do that the minute he arrives in Tascosa, they'll hang him!” Chris accused, wondering how he could have been so mistaken about the man whose life he had once saved. In retrospect, it made perfect sense. Baker had arrived in Four Corners to watch his prey, to watch and study Vin before moving in for the kill. Chris had to wonder if his friendship with the marshal was a part of it. Had Baker chosen this assignment because his past relationship with Chris would ensure that Vin would accept him as a friend, without fear of suspicion? Chris had to know.
“Did you come after him because of me?” He glared at Baker.
“Because of you?” Baker asked in real confusion.
“Did you pick him because knowing me made it easier?” Chris demanded, unable to be any more direct than that.
“You know better than that,” the marshal returned.
“Do I?” The gunslinger turned on him. “I don't know you, Baker, and after what you did today, we sure as hell ain't friends either.”
The statement hurt Baker more than he cared to admit but there was no denying anything that Chris had said.
“No,” Baker answered softly, “our friendship had nothing to do with this.”
“Well, that's something at least,” Chris retorted, turning his back to the marshal. “Come on, Ezra, we're going.”
“Chris, you can't go after him!” Baker exclaimed, guessing immediately what was in Chris' mind.
“You gonna stop me?” Chris shot him a menacing glare and continued out the door, with Ezra, who was giving the marshal a look of cold dislike, a very uncharacteristic expression from his usually aloof manner.
“Chris, you go after him and all you'll do is end up on the wrong side of the law, you won't help him!” Baker hurried after him.
“I AM NOT GOING TO LET HIM HANG!” Chris fairly roared.
“I'm not asking you too, but think about what you're doing!” Baker declared, almost pleading with him. It was one thing bringing in Vin Tanner to justice but quite another if he was forced to do the same. “If he's innocent maybe we can do something about it.”
The possibility that they might clear Vin's name was enough to give Chris pause, for a moment at least. Realistically, he did not think that there was any way to accomplish this miracle but Chris was reaching the point of desperation. He knew what was at stake and it was more than just Vin's life, it was the fate of all the seven, if they tried to stop the tracker from hanging. If Baker had another solution, then Chris was willing to hear him out, conditionally that is.
“Like what?” Chris asked sceptically.
Baker thought quickly because nothing less than the possibility of Vin's exoneration was going to satisfy Chris Larabee enough to keep him from riding to his friend's rescue. The truth was, Baker was well aware of small town justice and usually murder charges were usually laid on the sole recommendation of the lawman in charge. The territorial judges usually ruled in favour of his recommendation and if Vin had left without speaking for himself, who was to refute the possibility of his innocence? It was a case that should have been argued by a lawyer before it ever came to that.
“He should be going up before a judge,” the marshal said quickly. “For running out of town before the sentence could be carried out, there's likely to be more charges.”
“More charges?” Ezra snorted. “I doubt that they can impose a greater sentence on Mr. Tanner beyond a hanging.'
“It's a formality that most lawmen don't choose to exercise but since I'm marshal I can insist on it. We can get a judge to review the case, Chris. We can use the argument that he ran because he's innocent and try to prove it.”
“That is not much of an alternative,” Ezra pointed out. He was familiar with legal trickery and such tactics only went so far without any real evidence to support it. “We have scant information to prove that he's innocent to begin with.”
“We don't know that,” Chris mused. “Vin ran so fast out of Tascosa, it was easier for folk to believe that he was guilty. There was never any thought given to the possibility of who else could be responsible if he wasn't.”
“Mr. Larabee,” Ezra replied firmly, “as much as I may loathe to say this, what our deceptive Mr. Baker here is suggesting is a gamble and the odds are not at all favourable.”
Chris stared at him and Ezra knew that he was aware of what a long shot this was.
“I know but is a chance,” Chris answered after a moment. The chance for Vin to clear his name was something that Chris could not deny his friend, even if at the moment it appeared fleeting and dangerous. Vin had never made his case before a judge and before Chris set on a course that would ensure that none of the seven would ever be considered respectable again, Vin had to try even if it was doomed to failure.
Besides, there was no way on God's green earth that Chris was going to let him hang.
Whatever the judge decided.
*************
If Ezra was restrained in his response then Buck was a contrasting opposite.
“Have you lost your mind!” Buck Wilmington exploded after Chris had explained the situation to the rest of the seven within the confines of the Standish Tavern.
Chris could not blame his reaction even if he was the most verbal of them. Next to him, Josiah's expression had shifted from usual stoicism to plain stony. Nathan was silent but that usually meant the healer was controlling his anger at what had happened. JD shared Buck's anger and had expressed it in exclamations of astonishment during Chris' revelation of events. The kid was staring at the gunslinger as if perplexed by how Chris could be going along with the idea of Vin facing judgement in Tascosa.
“Look,” Chris let out of a sigh, trying to be the voice of reason even though he was just as furious about this whole situation as the rest of his friends. “This bounty on Vin's head has gone on longer than it should have. Part of it was our fault; we got too caught up in things happening here, we forgot all about how it is for Vin in Tascosa. I ain't happy about letting him go there, not when they're waiting to hang him, but if we save him, then what? He'll still have that damn bounty on his head and they'll be after him worse. Baker told me that if he hadn't been the one to come after Vin, it would have been the Texas Rangers, and they don't care too much whether they bring him in dead or alive.”
“This be the same Baker who's been lying to us the last few months while he spied on Vin so he could ambush him?” Buck retorted archly.
“He's given me his word that he'll insist on a judge hearing Vin out,” Chris answered, thinking himself that the argument sounded weak.
“His word?” Buck stared at Chris in astonishment unable to believe that Chris could accept anything that Baker said after lying to them for so long. Not to mention being the instrument that would most likely see Vin hanging on the end of a rope.
“Maybe Chris is right,” Nathan added his voice to the mix. “Maybe a judge ought to hear Vin out. If we stand by him and let them know the man who's been protecting this town the past three years can't be a murderer, maybe he might see his way to believing Vin could be innocent.”
“Not all judges are fair like the esteemed Orin Travis,” Ezra warned. “There is also every reason for him to believe that Vin might be trying to absolve himself of a past discretion by doing this very thing. Redemption can be such a double edged sword at times.”
“Amen to that,” Josiah agreed to the statement but not when Vin's fate hang in the balance. “Chris, we know he's innocent but we've got no way to prove it. Letting Vin go to Tascosa to face a judge won't change that.”
“I'm not letting him go anywhere, Josiah,” Chris bristled, wishing everyone would remember that he was not doing any of this by choice. The alternative was to go up against a gang of federal lawmen and take Vin by force and he was desperately trying to find another way out of their predicament before it came to that. Chris had no difficulty making that choice for Vin Tanner but he wanted to make sure that they had explored every possibility before they embarked upon something that would have consequences for all of them. “I'm just trying to do what's best for him.”
“What's best for him is to get him out of there!” Buck declared, unable to believe that they were even debating this.
“We do that and we'll be on the wanted poster right next to him!” Nathan exclaimed. “Are you ready for that? I sure as hell know I ain't. If push comes to shove and we have to do this, I'll be right there with you boys, but before we come to it, I want to know if there's another way.”
“Maybe we should just ask Vin what he wants to do,” JD spoke for the first time.
Everyone fell silent in the wake of that simple question. With all the debate and anger flying around the room as each of them voiced their opinions on the matter, it was rather sobering to be reminded that the one person whose opinion mattered most of all, was the one person no one had bothered to ask.
“Considering Vin's on his way to be get hung kid, I'm guessing he's gonna be agreeing with me,” Buck retorted.
“I don't know, Buck,” JD shrugged. “Vin don't always do things the easy way.”
Once again, no one could refute that statement.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” Josiah sighed. “Do we know where Vin is?”
“Baker said he's on his way to Tascosa,” Chris answered, offering the young Mr. Dunne a little smile of pride. His age often made it easy for the rest of the seven to think of him as nothing more than an inexperienced youth but JD had ways of reminding them how much he had grown since coming to Four Corners. “Baker stayed in town, waiting to see what we'd do once we found out. I think he expected us to go after Vin. If we do it his way, I don't see any reason why he won't lead us to Vin and if he doesn't I'll convince him the old fashioned way.”
“At gunpoint?” Ezra asked caustically.
“I ain't wasting good bullets on him,” Chris growled before leaving the saloon to find his old 'friend'.
************
Baker had the good sense to stay in the jailhouse while Chris had been talking to the others, perfectly aware that if he came within reach of the seven following the revelation of what he had done to Vin, it would most likely end in violence. As Chris made his way to tell the marshal what they had decided, he could not even keep himself from wanting to beat nine colours of hell out of the man. He thought of Vin and what the tracker must be thinking right now and hoped Vin was smart enough to know that his friends would never abandon him. He supposed that was easier said then done because he was not the one facing an execution when he finally arrived at Tascosa.
“Chris!” He heard the voice of the only person in town who cared as much about Vin as the rest of the seven.
Mary Travis appeared on the boardwalk, having just emerged from the offices of the Clarion News. The lovely editor in chief of the local paper was wearing an expression of worry on her features, telling Chris that while good news travelled fast, bad news moved like a bullet.
“Is it true?” she asked. “Is Vin on his way to Tascosa?”
Chris met her eyes and nodded slowly, “Yeah it's true.”
“I heard it,” she shook her head in disbelief, “but I couldn't believe it and Mr Campbell, he was your friend. How could he?”
Chris' jaw tightened as he was reminded rather potently how Baker had betrayed him and not just him, but Vin as well. His anger had been crushed mercilessly into a place inside of him where it could not affect his judgement, but it was there nonetheless.
“He's a Federal Marshal,” Chris almost spat the words out like bile. “Apparently, he's been watching Vin for awhile. If he hadn't come for Vin it would have been the Texas Rangers.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked fearfully, her eyes showing that she knew his feelings on the matter and suspected that his determination to save Vin would lead him into breaking the law. Mary would never come out and tell him not to go to the tracker's aid, not when she cared so much about Vin as well. However, if Chris were to rescue Vin Tanner by stealing him from under the nose of the marshal, then she would lose them both.
“Baker thinks we can convince a judge to give Vin a hearing,” Chris answered after a moment. “If we can convince the man that Vin ran because he was innocent, maybe he might give Vin a new trial or something.”
“Can you trust him?” She looked at Chris.
“I don't know,” Chris answered honestly. “If you asked me yesterday, I would have said yes but not now.”
“Well what he suggests does make some sense,” Mary offered, conscious of how difficult this must be for him. “Orin may not have much authority in Texas but I'm sure he could put in a good word.”
“It's gonna take more than a good word,” Chris said abruptly. “It's gonna take a lawyer.”
“And that,” she agreed
“I guess you'd better contact that lawyer we got for Nathan,” Chris sighed.
“Mr. Winstanley?” Mary replied, remembering the Englishman who had defended Nathan when Bill Alderson had been killed the year before.
During a racially provoked fight instigated by Alderson, Chris Larabee had been forced to shoot the man to defend himself. Alderson was hit badly and although Nathan tried to save his life, the farmer was beyond help. This did not prevent Alderson's son Jason and the local troublemaker, Walt Simonson, from claiming that Nathan had murdered Alderson with improper medical care. The subsequent trial had divided the town and been in Mary's opinion, it was one of Four Corners' darkest moments. Fortunately, Nathan was freed thanks to the rather eloquent defence provided by Gareth Winstanley, a barrister who specialised in criminal law. Winstanley had proved that not even a trained doctor could save Alderson to which the jury agreed.
“He didn't do to badly by Nathan,” Chris pointed. “I'm hoping he'll be able to help Vin at Tascosa.”
It was worth a try and with the odds against them, Vin needed all the help he could get. “I'll get in touch with him immediately.”
“Good,” Chris nodded. “Cause we'll be riding out of here as soon as we can.”
“You're going to Tascosa?” Mary stared at him.
“I sure as hell ain't gonna leave it to those Federal boys to keep Vin from being lynched,” he said shortly.
“I should go too,” Mary suggested, wanting to be there for the tracker just as badly as Chris. “I might be able to help.”
“Mary…” Chris started to protest.
It was an old argument between them where he would dig in his heels about something she could not do and she would digs hers in even deeper and before the end of it he would relent in sheer exasperation. However, on this occasion, Chris was not going to give in, not when her life was at stake. In Four Corners, she was the leader of a community, the voice of Four Corners and sometimes, even its conscience. Hell knew, she was his and he loved her for it but he knew better than she did, that in Tascosa, she was just another woman. Her accomplishments would not make a lick of difference to people who had made up their mind about Vin's guilt.
“But, Chris, I can help!” Mary insisted.
“No,” he said firmly and meant it. “Mary, this is going to be dangerous and if things don't go our way, me and the others are gonna have to make some hard decisions about whether or not we're gonna let Vin hang. You can't be in Tascosa when that happen, you just can't.”
She looked into his eyes and understood what he was trying to tell her.
“All right,” she conceded the point this once but placed her hand on his cheek and made him look at her, not caring if it was a public display or not. She would have him know this one thing before he left town. “You give me your word that if it comes to that, you won't just ride into the sunset and forget about me. I love you, Chris, I don't care if it means I have to leave Four Corners behind. If we have to, Billy and I will find you but you're not going to leave us behind out of some misguided notion of sparing us. Do you hear me?”
He stared into her blue grey eyes and knew that she meant every word she said, that she would give up everything for him. It touched him profoundly and he planted a soft kiss in her palm, showing her that he was nowhere close to giving her up either.
”I hear you,” he offered a little smile. “Now you better get going, we'll need Winstanley in Tascosa as soon as we arrive.”
Mary nodded and started to turn when Chris called out to her.
“Mary,” he said before she drew too far away to hear him. Mary turned to him in question before Chris answered, “Incidentally, I love you too.”
The smile that crossed her face at that remark was radiance itself and reminded Chris why it was so important that they found another way to help Vin because he could not bear it if he never saw that smile again.
ACT THREE
It was cold that night.
His fingers ached as he flexed them again, wishing he could warm them with gloves but the dexterity required for the moment made that an impossibility. Those who spoke about the heat in Texas obviously had not visited the panhandle during winter. When the night fell, the temperature dropped drastically and was more than capable of piercing the skin with bitter cold. He supposed he should not be complaining when it could be snowing as well as being this cold.
Although there was a full moon above him, the night seemed unconscionably dark. Vin Tanner how much of this was a state of mind rather than actual fact. From his vantage point in the trees, he could see the homestead before him, thanks to the cast of moonlight above the spread. As homesteads went, it was nowhere in size or prosperity to that of the cattle barons that ruled here in Texas. He had seen a few head of cattle on his way here and surmised that the owner probably made a modest living, if that.
The situation bothered him considerably though he could not say for certain why.
He had followed the prey across two states and could not deny that the man he was tracking was one of the craftiest and more resourceful outlaws he had ever met. It was a bad combination in one who took life without thought or remorse and Ely Joe was all these things. At first, he had been just another job, no different from so many others that Vin had undertaken since abandoning buffalo hunting for bounty hunting. However, as the pursuit continued and took far longer than any other chase before, it became a matter of principle for Vin to capture the elusive outlaw.
There had been so many near misses where he had almost had the man in his grasp, but soon enough and like a phantom, Ely Joe slipped away with relative ease. Vin had never seen the man up close but the tracker had an eye for detail that knew the outlaw's characteristics and committed the scant details Vin had observed into memory. Vin wondered what Ely Joe thought about their game of cat and mouse. For Vin knew that in any confrontation between them, one of them would walk away and one would not. Vin had no fear of dying but he would hate to lose.
Now he was here, staring across the landscape, to a house where all the lights had been dimmed. There was no trace of life anywhere and Vin suspected that Ely Joe might have been and gone already. The thought disturbed him because he was certain he had seen the man arrive at this place earlier in the day. He hoped Ely Joe had not hurt the family that lived here because the outlaw was notorious for killing innocent bystanders to protect himself. It was part of the reason why Vin had chosen to wait him out. Vin had hoped that Ely Joe would take what he needed from the place and move on, allowing Vin to move in once he was far away from the people who lived there.
Unfortunately, it appeared that he might have been too late. Vin debated whether or not he should move to investigate the situation. If Ely Joe had done his worst, then it was likely he would be long gone by now, though how he managed to slip past Vin was a point of consternation to the tracker. If he was in there lying low, then Vin had to help the people trapped with him before they became new victims. If he were a bounty hunter of any note, he would have not cared about the innocents, just the bounty. However, his personal code of honour would not allow him to behave so callously.
Finally, he decided that he would try and see if the people in the homestead could be saved. Emerging from his hiding place, Vin unholstered his gun and made his way across the terrain, towards the small house in the distance. His eyes scrutinized every shape and movement in the dark, having acquired a rather developed sense of night vision from his buffalo hunting days. Animals were far harder to track than men, though the latter would like to think otherwise.
Nothing stirred as he made his advance. He watched windows and doors very closely, because he knew how vulnerable he was while out in the open with no trees or structures to offer cover in case of an ambush. His stomach was a tight knot as he crossed the space between the tree line and the house, straining to hear any sound and finding, rather disturbingly, nothing.
Approaching the horse trough near a hitching post, Vin suddenly saw the reflection of the moon on the surface of the water. Instead of a seamless, even reflection of the moon overhead, the image was undulating as if there were something just beneath the water surface. It struck Vin as strange and though he ought to be concentrating on where Ely Joe was at this moment, he could not help but be compelled to investigate further.
Cautiously, he made his way to the trough and took a closer look at the water. It did not take him long to discern what it was that had produced such an odd effect. The man's body had been forced into the cramped space. Judging how well he fit, Vin deduced that this had taken place after the man's demise, when the killer encountered no resistance in the uncomfortable positioning of the body. There was no doubt that he was dead, he could not be alive after remaining under water for so long.
Vin cursed under his breath, knowing that he had arrived too late to save this unfortunate and it was most likely Ely Joe that had killed him. Steeling himself for the cold, Vin reached in and remove the man from his watery grave. The weight of the water made the body twice as heavy as it should have been and Vin had to put his back into lifting the corpse out of the trough. Water splattered in all directions as Vin dragged the man to the house, unwilling to leave the body out in the open just yet.
He hoped he would not make a similarly grisly discovery inside the home.
Despite the weight, Vin managed to drag the body into the homestead. Once inside, he found a lamp and lit it to illuminate its confines. When the light flooded the room, Vin saw that he was alone except for his dead companion. A quick investigation of the premises drew a sigh of relief from the tracker when he found no other bodies. The place was as he suspected earlier, rather modest with accommodations for one. It was highly likely, Vin realised, that the occupant was not a family man. It was only when Vin turned his attention to the body, that he made a rather startling discovery.
The man on the table was Ely Joe.
Although Vin had never seen the outlaw's face, the clothes, the hair and the crushed hat around his head, were features of Ely Joe's Vin had seen a dozen times before. This appeared by all outward appearances to be the man he had been chasing for so many weeks. A further investigation told Vin that Ely Joe had been killed by a series of bullet wounds across the torso. No doubt he had probably tried to force his way into this person's home and suffered deadly consequences.
However, if this was indeed the case and Ely Joe was dead, where was the man who had pulled the trigger?
With Ely Joe's record as an outlaw, a judge would undoubtedly find that the man had acted in self-defense. Perhaps that was where he was now, clearing this up with the law. There was a small town not too far from here, a place called Tascosa. Vin pondered what to do for a moment because it appeared that his hunt for Ely Joe had come to a premature end. A part of him felt disappointed that it had ended this way but he supposed not all hunts were meant to go smoothly or as anticipated.
Deciding that there was only one thing to do, Vin prepared to take the body into town to collect his bounty. Ely Joe, as formidable as he was in life, was now a job done. Once Vin had delivered him to the proper authorities, the tracker would be on his way again to hunt new prey and Ely Joe would become just another memory.
***********
The first thing that Vin became aware of was the fact that he was moving.
The throbbing pain in the back of his skull where he had been cold cocked into unconsciousness came second and soon drove away any thoughts of the first to the back of his mind. Lying on his side, he could hear the rumble of wagon wheels beneath him and the slight bumps and jostles that came from travelling over irregular ground. Accustoming himself to the pain in silence, he remained still as the spinning slowed to manageable levels. He did not count on the pain when he opened his eyes and found himself glaring into the sun's intense noonday gaze.
“Damn,” he groaned quietly before falling absolutely silent when he heard the pull of a gun hammer not far from him.
Shifting his gaze towards the sound, he saw a rather stocky looking man seated against the back tray of the wagon, chewing tobacco while regarding him with steely eyes and an even more formidable twelve gauge. The man said little to him but was watching him very closely and took note of every move that Vin made, even if it was as slight as lifting his head off the buckboard.
“Can I sit up without you shooting me?” Vin asked, intending to do it whether or not the man gave his approval.
“Don't see why not,” he replied. “I guess I don't have to tell you that if you make a move, I'm gonna blow your head off.”
“No, you don't,” Vin replied and lifted himself off the buckboard into a sitting position.
The tracker did not make any sudden moves but did take a few minutes to evaluate his situation. He was presently in the back of an uncovered wagon, flanked on either side by two men on horseback, both carrying guns and made certain he was aware of it when he glanced their way. While the man with the shotgun was guarding him, there was another seated at the head of the wagon driving the team of horses pulling it. However, what Vin noticed most about them, whether or not they carried guns or were on horseback, was the fact that they were all sporting tin stars, in particular those worn by Federal lawmen.
“Are you real lawmen or just another bunch of Ely Joe's friends who plan on hanging me once we get far enough away from Four Corners.”
“Hanging's not up to us,” the man retorted. “That's for Tascosa to do. We're just bringing you in.”
'That was good to know,' Vin thought silently. This meant he could live long enough to escape though it did appear that this bunch weren't taking any chances.
“It really takes four of you to bring me in?” Vin asked. His questions were merely exploratory. It helped to know how much up to his neck in trouble he actually was.
“No, four of us to keep you from your friends,” the man replied. “Apparently, the Marshal thinks they might have a little trouble letting the law take its course.”
“Any Marshal I know?” The tracker returned sourly, unhappy that these men seemed to have done their homework and were prepared for the contingency that the rest of the seven might free him.
“Marshall Campbell,” the man volunteered, seeing no reason to keep any information away from the prisoner. Besides, the Marshal seemed pretty sure that Tanner was innocent and while Vess had yet to make up his mind, there was no reason to behave like an ass.
“Campbell,” Vin mused and then realised who he was talking about. “You mean Baker Campbell?”
“The one and the same,” the driver of the wagon, who had apparently been listening to the conversation, added before the man with the shotgun could.
Vin's mind raced for a few seconds as he became accustomed to the news. For months Baker Campbell had been a regular fixture in Four Corners, having fortuitously arrived in the same town where his old friend Chris Larabee was staying. Vin had thought nothing of it because Baker seemed a nice enough fellow and Chris obviously trusted him enough to disarm any concerns Vin might have about the man. However, learning the truth now filled Vin with a sense of outrage and, oddly enough, it was not because the man was delivering him to Tascosa to hang, but because Baker had used his friendship with Chris to trap him.
”Son of a bitch,” Vin hissed angrily.
“Just keep a civil tongue in your head about the Marshal,” the man with the shotgun warned.
“Go to hell,” Vin bit back sharply, preferring to die by a bullet by a hanging if he had a choice. “Son of bitch lied to Chris to get to me! I don't mind being caught, just my friends getting used.”
“Marshal's doing what he had to do,” the man retorted, but even Vin could sense that was a trace of discomfort in his voice, as if Baker's conduct in Four Corners was somewhat deplorable. “You got a murder charge on your head and six men willing to die to protect you. Odds like that need interesting ways to get around it.”
“I didn't kill anyone!” Vin shouted and made his guard tighten his hold on the shotgun. Indeed, the outburst brought forward the other two riders to investigate.
“There a problem here, Vess?” Roman Klein asked as he nudged his horse next to the wagon.
“I ain't got a problem with you, do I, Tanner?” Vess turned to Vin.
“You won't have a problem with me until I see the Marshal,” Vin said, glaring at him and meaning it. “It ain't right to use a friend the way he did.”
No one could refute that statement and decided to let it pass. The Marshal had explained a little about the circumstances involving Vin's capture and had to admit that while it was necessary, it they could understand the reason for Vin's anger, especially if the former bounty hunter was an innocent man they were taking to the gallows.
*************
Chris entered the jailhouse and found Baker still waiting for an answer regarding what he was going to do with Vin. A part of Chris fought the urge to tell his “old friend” to go to hell, but at the moment, Vin's fate was too important to the gunslinger to succumb to his baser instincts. Despite the intention to give Baker's way a fair hearing, Chris also wanted to know exactly where his best friend was at this time. In all reality, the best course of action was to have Baker lead them to Vin and then rescue the tracker before he ever set foot in Tascosa. The trouble with that was, instead of just Vin, they would all be wanted men and Chris was certain that the tracker would rather turn himself in then allow them to sacrifice their futures for him.
Vin could be very exasperating at times.
However, Chris also kept in mind the possibility that Baker's plan might succeed in clearing Vin's name, and until he spoke to the tracker, he was unwilling to do anything that might jeopardize that. Unfortunately, agreeing with Baker's plan meant having to trust the man, who for months had used their friendship to ambush Vin Tanner, was a little more difficult to manage. While Baker claimed that his actions were dictated by his duty to the law and that it was not his intention to deceive Chris, the fact of the matter was, he still did and Chris was not about to forget that any time soon.
If ever.
Baker sat up as he saw Chris, hoping that the gunslinger had come here with news that did not involve he and Chris staring each other across a gun. As hard as it had been to arrest Tanner, facing Chris Larabee as an enemy would be harder. Although judging by the way Chris was glaring at him, Baker guessed the decision may already be out of his hands.
“Chris?” Baker asked when Chris halted at the door of the jailhouse, staring at him with the eyes of a stranger.
“All right,” Chris nodded, “we'll do it your way, for now. We'll be ready to ride within the hour.”
Baker let out a sigh of relief, grateful that things were not going to get ugly. “It's the right decision, Chris, for all of you.”
Chris looked up sharply, something about Baker's words, cutting him to the core and surfacing the anger that was still inside of him like the sudden swell of the ocean. “You are the last person to tell me what the right decision is, Baker.”
“Chris, I didn't mean for it turn out this way,” Baker implored, trying once again to explain himself now that they were free of an audience, not that had really mattered earlier on. “I didn't know you were here when I first came to Four Corners. I was told that Vin was here and that was all.”
His words had little effect on Chris who returned with a sharp counter argument, “You didn't exactly tell the truth when you did find out, Baker, and that's worse than what you did. If you had arrested Vin there and then, I could understand because it was your job as Marshal. I may not have liked it but I would have understood it. You lied to me and I thought we were friends after what happened in the past for you to be able to tell me the truth, no matter how bad it was. I guess I was wrong.”
“Chris, we've known each other a long time,” Baker declared quickly, able to see where this was going and he did not wish their friendship to end this way, even though he knew after his actions, it was more or less inevitable. “Don't let it end like this. I'm sorry for what I did. I really am. You're right, what I did was wrong but when I saw you were here and that Vin was your best friend, I had no idea what to do. I knew you wouldn't stand by a killer but that ain't my call to make whether he's innocent or not. I was just supposed to bring him in.”
Chris shook his head in disgust because this was the friend he had trusted and whose life had once been in his hands. There were not many people in Chris Larabee's life that he trusted as much as those in the seven but he had always counted Baker as one of those. This betrayal of Vin incensed him to the core, not simply because of what Vin faced in Tascosa but because Baker had used him to do it. Chris could not help thinking that if he and Vin were not friends, Vin would not be in this trouble. The tracker had trusted Baker because Chris trusted Baker and now that trust saw him facing a hangman's noose.
“You have a choice, Baker, and you didn't take it,” Chris replied coldly. “You should have known me enough to guess that this was the last way I wanted things to happen. You didn't say nothing because you thought that I wouldn't let you take him. You're right there, I wouldn't have but we could have work something out, we could have done something that wouldn't have brought us to where we are now.”
“I couldn't take the chance,” Baker said firmly, aware now that nothing he said would exonerate him in Chris' eyes.
Chris shook his head and met Baker's eyes with a hint of sadness. “I guess we'll never know, will we?”
***********
After saying goodbye to Mary and ensuring that Gareth Winstanley would be awaiting them in Tascosa, the remaining members of the Magnificent Seven began the ride out of town with Baker Campbell added to their numbers. The tension between the group was thick, with an island forming around the marshal, as the rest of the seven made their dislike plain. They rode in stony silence, with Baker being sensible enough to guess that it was best that he remained silent, considering how his riding companions felt about his deception in ambushing one of their number. However, it was Chris' aloofness that hurt Baker the most, though he hid it well.
Buck, however, was having real difficulties trying to be civil to either Chris or Baker, since he did not hold with the plan that they should let Vin face a judge in Tascosa, when in all likelihood, the tracker would be lynched before he ever got to the gallows. Unfortunately, JD's argument to see what Vin wanted to do about the situation had won the day and now they were being taken to Vin, who was undoubtedly guarded closely by Baker's deputies. As much as Buck admired JD and the man that he had become, the kid could be annoyingly sensible at times. He supposed he should have been proud about this fact, since Buck had more to do with this maturity then any other member of the seven, still it was difficult to do so when JD's reasoning meant Vin's continued incarceration.
The sun was just beginning its journey across the afternoon sky when they crossed the sparse, dry desert terrain towards Texas. Each member of the seven reflected on their own feelings on what should be done but could not refute the argument that ultimately it was Vin who needed to make the choice to dictate what action was to be taken. Despite the general consensus that it was time to resolve the terrible legacy Ely Joe had left Vin, the possibility that he might hang in the absence of any real evidence proving him innocent, filled the seven with considerable doubt.
As comrades in arms for the past three years, they had faced situations that most friends never ever see each other through in a dozen lifetimes. The circle of their fellowship had been formed purely by chance and a random set of circumstances that could never again be repeated. They all knew that there was a mystical quality about being seven and if they lost Vin, it would be broken forever and none of them would ever be the same again.
These thoughts and others like it plagued Buck Wilmington.
Absurdly, his thoughts centred on the practical jokes that he and the tracker took delight in inflicting upon the other members of the seven. For a tracker who appeared most of the time, like a younger version of Chris Larabee, Vin had the mindset of a juvenile at times and it surfaced during the playing of these pranks. The ladies' man smile stifled a smile as he remembered the time they exchanged the contents of Ezra's flask with Nathan's constipation remedy or how they used the cover of Josiah's favourite bible to trick him into reading an entirely different book that was not an accounting of the testaments. Some fellow named De Sade wrote it and possessed an equally biblical title 'being the 100 days of Sodom'. Josiah had been plenty mad but, strangely enough, unseen for the next three days.
The preacher was similarly engaged in thoughts of his own regarding the young sharpshooter. Of all the seven, it was Vin who had readily believed him innocent when Josiah had been accused by a Pinkerton detective of being some kind of psychotic killer. Even Chris had reason to doubt, and though Josiah had been too mired in self-pity to notice, Vin had apparently taken great exception to the gunslinger's reticence. It was beyond Vin's ability to accept that anyone who rode and fought at their side for so long could be responsible for the horrific crimes. Even when Josiah had told Vin to leave it alone, the tracker had ignored him, determined to save Josiah from himself. Vin had learnt the truth about his sister Hannah and how helpless Josiah had felt in being unable to protect her from their puritanical father.
Thanks to Vin's efforts, Josiah had been proven innocent and the preacher was able to do something that he should have done long ago -- talk to someone about the guilt he felt inside. While the pain did not fade away, it became decidedly more bearable after Josiah voiced the hurt he felt at his perceived failure to save Hannah from her descent into madness. As Baker led them to Vin, Josiah wished more than anything that he were capable of proving the tracker's innocence, the way Vin had done for him
Nathan saw Chris Larabee riding ahead, appearing as if he was ready to put a bullet into the marshal who had gave them a very start reminder that one of them had an unresolved problem that had been allowed to fester for too long. Nathan could not say he blamed the gunslinger for he felt similar feelings of hostility towards Baker, who had pretended to be a friend to them all, but was secretly conspiring behind their backs to ensnare one of their own. Nathan knew what it was like to be accused of murder. In fact, in his lifetime, he had endured that indignity twice.
The first being the incident which saw Vin and Chris coming to his rescue. He had been accused of allowing a trail boss to die, even though his illness was too far along for anything to be done. His men had been prepared to hang Nathan and, if it had not been for the intervention of Vin and Chris, he would not be alive today. The second more recent episode occurred following his inability to save local farmer Bill Alderson. Alderson had provoked a fight in the Standish Tavern after making some racist remarks about Nathan in the company of the seven. In self-defence, Chris had been forced to shoot the man and the resulting wound was fatal. Although Nathan had tried his best to save the man, Alderson had died and consequently, his son had accused Nathan of letting him die. The trial that followed had enflamed Four Corners and had nearly led to the seven walking away from the town for good.
Nathan had walked away with the support of his friends and after lawyer Gareth Winstanley of Bitter Creek had proved, without shadow of a doubt, that not even a fully qualified physician could have saved Alderson. Mary had informed them just before they left Four Corners, that she had contacted Winstanley by telegram and instructed the Englishman to meet them in Tascosa. After the man's efforts on Nathan's behalf, Chris believed, rightly so, that the lawyer might manage the same miracle for Vin concerning the murder charge that awaited him in the small Texan town.
Ezra Standish's feelings were not so optimistic.
He knew the kind of justice practised in small towns. Four Corners was no different and Tascosa, in the heart of the Texas panhandle was a law onto itself. He had not been swayed by Chris' belief that they should use this incident as an opportunity to clear Vin's name. Personally, he was of the notion that they ought to find out where Vin was being held and affect a rescue. While Ezra did not profess to be a lawyer, he was somewhat familiar with the law since he had spent much of his life exploiting it to his advantage. Baker's claim that Vin's name could be cleared was optimistic if not somewhat unrealistic. There was no evidence of any kind to support Vin's claim of innocence. The only person who might have been able to prove him innocent was Ely Joe. Unfortunately, the outlaw had taken his secrets to the grave and had doomed Vin to follow him on the end of a hangman's noose.
What made the whole thing worse for Ezra was the fact that Vin had known something like this was going to happen. The night before seemed almost an eternity away as Ezra recalled how Vin had revealed his feelings of worry. It appeared his nightmares were not so much bad dreams but a grim premonition of things to come. Ezra should have known that Vin did not worry without good reason. Last night was the uneasiest that Ezra had ever seen the unflappable tracker and Ezra wondered why he just did not tell Vin to run. It would have been far simpler than the course they were now embarked upon.
All JD Dunne could feel was anger. Even though, he had suggested that they talk to Vin before acting, JD wanted to rescue Vin as badly as the others. Despite his supposedly mature opinion regarding the matter, he could not help thinking that this wasn't fair. Vin had done a great deal of good since coming to Four Corners, not just a member of the seven but as a member of the community. Sure the tracker often believed that the town was too big for him and he would be just as happy to be away from it if he could, but when push came to shove and Four Corners needed him, he was always there. That was the way Vin was, JD realised, always there.
Whenever Chris was particularly surly or angry enough about his life to take it out on someone, Vin was there to calm the gunslinger. When Buck and Chris were going head to head, Vin made sure that they still remembered they were friends. When Nathan got too critical of Ezra, Vin made sure that the healer was reminded of how much good Ezra had changed since joining them and when Josiah needed someone to believe him, Vin was equally read to step in. JD could not remember the number of times Vin had rescued him when Buck was becoming particularly overbearing. When one thought of how much Vin contributed to the way the seven regarded each other, JD could not begin to imagine how they would ever do without him.
For Chris there were no illusions about what was to be done.
Vin was not going to hang and that was all there was to it. He had meant it when he told Mary that he would never stand by and let his best friend hang, despite the consequences to himself. Chris had been riding the edge of respectability for a long time anyway. If he crossed it, he honestly did not think it would matter too much. The only thing that mattered was the survival of those in his life. Even if the cost was his becoming a wanted fugitive alongside the tracker, then so be it. Chris was not going to fail another person he cared about when it mattered the most.
Despite what he had told Baker about their intentions, Chris had his own agenda to fulfil. For the moment, he would watch and see how far this thing played out. If it was possible to clear Vin's name, then Chris was going to do everything possible to see it happen. However, if it turned out that after all deliberations were done and Vin still found himself in the same predicament, Chris was going to take action no matter what the outcome. Vin meant too much to his life for Chris to ever want to know how to live without the tracker being in it. Vin Tanner was the first person Chris let into his life after wandering an emotional wasteland for the two years following the death of Sarah and Adam. Not even Buck, whom he had known for almost fifteen years, could penetrate that shield of self-loathing he had surrounded himself.
Vin's friendship had done what bullets and booze could not; it had made him start to care.
If it were not for Vin, everyone and everything he had gained in his life since coming to Four Corners would never have materialised. He would never have stayed long enough to find the seven or Mary and would have most likely ended his life at the end of another man's bullet. No, he thought resolutely as he allowed Baker to lead them onward, there was no way in heaven or hell that Vin was going to face that noose.
No way at all.
ACT FOUR
Vin could not understand what they were doing.
For a group that were supposedly concerned about being pursued by Chris and the rest of the seven, the men taking him to Tascosa were surprisingly languid in their pace to get him there. Vin wondered if they were simply dumb or they truly expected Chris to sit by and let this happen because Baker was a friend. He knew Chris Larabee and if Chris had not torn Baker a new one by now, Vin would be extremely surprised, not to mention a little disappointed. Their journey to Tascosa transpired at what he considered to be almost a leisurely pace. Not to mention their route ensured that anyone who was in pursuit would have little difficulty finding them.
Vin had conceded by now that these were good men despite the fact that they were taking him to hang. They were seasoned lawmen that took their work seriously and it showed by the way he was treated. There was no cruelty in their actions, just sensible methodology he would have employed himself if he were transporting a dangerous prisoner to justice. Hell knows Vin and the seven had done enough of that over the past three years. Still, the pace and route they were taking was so questionable, it almost bordered on criminal negligence. If he was transporting a prisoner that was likely to have six men attempting a rescue, Vin knew he would not be doing it the way these men were.
When the sun began to set, the group had decided to make camp. Once again, Vin regarded this with confusion. The sensible thing would be to keep travelling until they were well out of the Territory but, as it appeared, and not for the first time today, that sense was clearly something that was not dictating their actions. Vin supposed that if they wanted to play it dumb, who was he to argue. Chris would find him soon enough, taking advantage of all the clues these men had left for the seven to track them down. It defied logic because his conversations with Vess indicated that the man was a knowledgeable tracker, much too knowledgeable to make mistakes even a novice in the wild would be able to notice.
Perhaps, they were waiting for the Marshal to catch up, Vin thought but decided that was foolishness as well. The last thing they should do is wait for the Marshal to join them when it was very likely that Chris would be on his heels to reach Vin.
By the time the sun had set on the day and Vin found himself staring into the fire, he had stopped wondering about such things. He resigned himself to quit pondering the mind of others when he had more important concerns on his mind and what awaited him in Tascosa. He once told Chris Larabee that he did not mind dying; he just didn't like to be hung like a dog. Not much of that perception had changed but there was a part of him that was also tired of running, that detested this no man's land he had been existing for the past few years where he could go neither forward or backward in his life. Maybe it was best that he went to Tascosa, 'cause at least then, it would be over.
Suddenly he heard something in the dark and his gaze immediately followed the sound. The horses stirred, offering a series of nickers, which was usually a response to the presence of other animals. Since there was nothing panicked about their reactions, Vin assumed the animals in question were horses. Vess also noticed this and his hands had slid protectively over his gun. His action immediately inspired the others to be on their guard and Vin felt damned helpless without his sawed off shot gun.
Sounds emerged from the darkness; Vin heard voices and horses closing in on them. He debated whether or not it was the seven coming to his rescue but knew it could not be because Chris would never make such a foolish approach. If Larabee had learnt nothing from him about stealthy approaches and was making this foolhardy attempt to free him, Vin would be forced to kick his ass for sheer stupidity. The tracker was searching the darkness for the intruders when suddenly a voice announced himself from the shadows.
“Hey, boys,” Marshal Baker Campbell greeted the camp as he entered the ring of amber light.
It took a few seconds for Vin to realise that he was not alone. The familiar shape of Chris Larabee was following the Marshal close behind. With Chris was the rest of the seven and their presence immediately caused the others to leap to their feet, with guns drawn, ready to fire.
“Hold it!” Baker shouted before gunfire could erupt. Chris already had his peacemaker out of his holster and the others with him were also primed to start shooting. Vin, who was the only one unarmed, felt as if he had been thrown headfirst into his worst nightmare.
“Lower your guns!” Baker barked at his men before things escalated any more out of control. “They didn't come here to fight!”
Vin's eyes were fixed on Chris, who found him equally fast. The gunslinger's face showed his obvious relief at Vin's well being, a feeling mirrored by Vin's own expression. However, as Baker called for calm between his compatriots and Chris doing the same without words but an armed raised and crooked in a gesture to desist, Vin's concern gave way to puzzlement. What was Chris up to?
“What's going on here, Baker?” the man Vin knew as Roman Klein asked.
“Chris and his men are here to talk to Vin,” Baker explained slowly, his manner still tense because the danger in his eyes had not yet passed. No one was shooting but their guns were still drawn.
“You okay, pard?” Chris asked before anyone else could comment.
“I've been better,” Vin said reservedly, not volunteering more than he had to at this point because he had no idea what Chris was planning on doing. Usually, he could read the gunslinger well enough to know his intentions, but on this occasion, everything Chris was doing was out of character.
Chris approached the tracker and lowered his gun, a gesture that went a long way to appeasing the others and inciting the rest of the seven to do the same. Even though the urgency bled out of the situation, the tension still remained.
“Vin,” Chris said upon reaching the tracker. “Baker says that if you go to Tascosa, he'll get a judge to review your case. It might be a shot at proving you innocent.”
“Hell, you know that ain't gonna happen,” Vin exclaimed in a mixture of shock and betrayal. “I ain't never gonna live long enough to see a judge, them folks down at Tascosa are gonna lynch me long before I get to see any judge.”
“Not if I can help it,” Baker interjected. “Me and my men will see justice done. We'll make sure that you get a fair hearing. Anyone looking to lynch you is going have to go through us first.”
“And us, Vin,” Josiah added “We're going with you to Tascosa and we won't let anyone hurt you.”
Vin stared at Chris a moment, wondering if this gamble with his life was because Chris still trusted Baker. Vin silently debated his position as he connected with the gunslinger's eyes and saw the indecision there. Chris was having almost a hard a time of this as he, but if so, why didn't he just rescue Vin and be done with it? Was it possible that Chris believed he could be cleared of the charges? Even Vin did not think it was possibly and yet, Chris was willing to try, using his life as a stake.
“You killed the only person who could clear me, Chris,” Vin spoke, a hint of accusation in his voice.
“I know,” Chris replied, his jaw tensing in hurt at that reminder. “I wish to God I hadn't but you've been wanting to clear your name for sometime now, Vin, this is the best way.”
“How am I gonna do that when I'd be most likely locked up the minute I got to that town? I ain't gonna be able to do much from behind bars!” Vin's anger got the better of him and he lashed out at Chris, who felt his words almost like a physical blow.
“Vin, you just say the word,” Buck declared. “You just say the world and we'll get you out of here.” Buck glared at Baker and the men with him in bold challenge. His words resulted in everyone reaching to clutch their guns tighter.
“We'll do that too, pard,” Chris replied, casting a glance at Baker to show the Marshal that he meant it. “If you want to, we'll get you loose and ride for the border. We'll be riding right beside you.”
And they would do that, Vin realised as he stared at the faces assembled before him, the faces of his friends who would do anything to save him from a noose. They would sacrifice their futures in Four Corners just to see that he was safe. It felt good to know that they had been there for him the past three years and would continue to do so, even if it meant becoming fugitives themselves. Vin, who had spent most of his life alone, was touched by their friendship and knew that as much as he wanted to be free, he could not let them make the sacrifice.
“You think we can convince a judge I ain't guilty?” Vin looked at Chris hopefully.
“I don't know,” Chris said honestly, not prepared to lie about anything. Vin needed to know the consequences of his decision; he needed to know in order to determine what was the best course to proceed. Chris would hide nothing from him. “Mary's contacted Winstanley in Bitter Creek. He'll meet us in Tascosa to represent you.”
Vin raised a brow at that. Gareth Winstanley had proven himself to the seven when he had successfully defended Nathan against a murder charge involving Alderson. Winstanley had proven himself an able litigator, as well as possessing none of the smarminess that was known to be a trademark of all lawyers. If there was any person in this world that Vin would have chosen to defend him in a court of law, it was the English criminal lawyer.
“And we'll be turning over every rock in Tascosa to find out the truth,” Baker added. “Chances are the sheriff did very little investigating to find out the truth. If we can prove that he pinned the murder on you illegally, it might have some effect on how the judge rules.”
“It's up to you, Vin,” Chris said earnestly, “I could have beat it out of Baker where you were. Don't think that I still ain't tempted to do that, but you've been saying that you need to clear your name so that you can get on with your life. You'll never have a better chance than to do it now . I know it means going back to Tascosa and if you don't want to do that, I'll understand and we'll do whatever it takes to see you escape.”
Chris' eyes connected with Baker long enough for the lawman to know that the gunslinger was perfectly serious before regarding Vin once again. “If there's even a chance you can walk away from Tascosa an innocent man in the eyes of the law, I think you should give it a chance, because no matter what happens, I won't let you hang Vin, even if it doesn't go the way we want. I just know you gotta try.”
Vin swallowed thickly, wracked with indecision. He had no doubt that if he made the choice to run, the seven would stand by his side, no matter what the consequences to themselves. However, Chris' words had penetrated the formidable fear of hanging that he kept deep inside of him. He did want it to be over. He wanted to stop looking over his shoulder out of fear that there was someone ready to step out of the shadows to bring him in. Most of all, he wanted to stop feeling someone's breathe on his neck.
God help him, he just wanted to stop being hunted.
“I guess I got no reason to put this off any longer,” he said finally.
“Vin, think about it,” Buck interjected, seeing where the tracker's decision was leading him. “There ain't no reason to believe that you could beat this thing. Just say the word pard and we'll get you out of here.”
“Where?” Vin asked Buck sharply. “Where am I gonna go? Do I run to Canada or Mexico? I can't go back to Four Corners and if I settle down someplace else, it won't take long for someone else to catch up with me. The rest of you have lives in Four Corners, people you care about. Are you gonna leave them for me? I can't ask you to do that for me and I won't.”
“You do not have to ask us such a thing, Mr. Tanner,” Ezra replied. “We would do it willingly.”
“I know,” Vin stared at the gambler, “that's just what makes it harder to accept.”
The entire group fell silent and Vin knew that all their actions hinged on the next words that left his lips. Baker's men were poised to attack and if Vin went with his first instincts, then he would doom his friends to becoming fugitives, that is if they did not get killed fighting it out with the Marshal's entourage. He touched Chris' eyes and saw the gunslinger nod slightly in understanding. Chris knew him well enough to know he would never endanger any of his friends, even if it meant facing a hanging.
“I hope you right about this, pard,” Vin finally spoke and saw Buck's shoulders slacken and the rest of the seven showing their own feelings of reservation or agreement with his decision.
“Only one way to find out,” Chris replied, glad that Vin was taking the chance to clear his name but also felt responsible for convincing him to walk willingly into a hangman's noose.
“I guess so,” the tracker drawled. “I guess we're going to Tascosa.”
To Be Continued
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