Hunted
By: The Scribe
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In recent years, however, the dream of his mother's loss had become superseded by another, more potent and relevant, image for his adulthood and that it almost involved a hangman's noose.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.
