Missing scene for ‘To Walk a Mile’
Chris,
who did a great beta for the story “To Walk A Mile”,
mentioned I had left out some scenes she would like to have seen. I couldn’t fit them in and still have the
pacing of the story make sense. She did
ask about this scene. With all the work
she did, I wanted to write this scene for her.
Buck
had his long legs stretched out in front of him and had just dozed as the dusk
finally started to cool things off. He
opened his eyes when he heard horses approach.
Josiah
had cut a thick bois d’arc limb for him to use as a
staff. With a smile of relief he levered
himself up to greet the new arrivals. He
couldn’t put his right knee down, sprained as it was and Nathan had it wrapped
up like a Christmas present that was 6-year-old proof. It would have been easier to counter balance
his bum knee with the pole in his right hand, but since that wrist was
incapacitated as well, he had to make do as he hobbled
to the edge of the porch.
“Boys,”
He grinned.
“Bucklin,”
Vin responded with a crooked grin as the two men rode
up to the porch.
“You still at my home?” Chris sniped as
they both dismounted.
“Somebody stole my horse,” Buck responded in the same manner. “No way to get to town.”
As
Larabee and Tanner stepped onto the porch, Wilmington gingerly lowered himself
the slight distance to the ground and over to his gray. He ran a hand down the thick neck in
greeting. The horse looked his way and
nickered.
To
Chris’s chagrin, his friend then leaned back for a visual examination of the
rest of the horse to make sure there was no damage. ‘Like I’d dare come back if
anything happened to that damn horse of yours
Larabee
thought begrudgingly to himself. “Vin
and I are fine,” he said instead, dripping sarcasm. “Thanks for asking.”
Before
either man could continue, the door opened and Nathan stepped out, “Welcome
back. Everything work out?” He kept it
casual. He kept it general. They were both alive and didn’t seem to be
leaking from any new holes, so the details could come out gradually.
In
answer Tanner held up the valise with the poker money inside.
“And the men?” Jackson
prodded.
“Boardman
shot Dooley. Niven
killed him for it.” Larabee supplied
matter-of-factly.
“Aw,
hell,” came from behind him. “The boy alright?”
Chris
spun on his friend and was nose to nose in the blink of an eye, “That is
exactly the reason Vin and I rode all the way to Eagle
Bend with the prisoners. Else you’d be
all hang dog fretting over him.”
“He’s
a kid, Chris.”
“He
has the mind of a kid. He’s a grown ass
man who broke the law.” He got louder as
if possibly trying to convince himself as well.
“He
trusted the wrong person.” Buck defended as he, too, got louder.
Chris
used the confrontation as an opportunity to study the other man’s health. The right knee was wrapped in thick
bandages. The right wrist was splinted
and useless. The white of one eye was
bright red. His face was still swollen,
but possibly less than it had been. The
bruises were turning an ugly purple and green and settling along the contours
of his face. His clothes hid the rest of
the damage.
Behind
the two, Vin and Nathan exchanged “ho-hum” glances at
how they twisted concern about each into an argument.
Nathan
led Vin into the cabin, knowing the others wouldn’t work
out their worries with an audience.
“Coffee?” Jackson offered as they both made themselves
at home. Tanner took the mug and
straddled a chair at the table, “Everything really okay?”
“They
were unarmed by the time I got there. If
Chris had shot ‘em it’d’ve
been murder. He didn’t. I think he’s really okay with it.”
“I
wouldn’t have bet on that when he rode out.” Nathan said into his cup.
“Sometimes
more happens to a troubled man when he’s alone with his thoughts than when he
has a distraction.” Tanner pondered.
“Ain’t
that the truth. “ The healer responded quietly, and from experience.
“Do
you just try to piss me off!?” Chris Larabee’s raised voice blasted from
outside. But the rest of the sound
reverted to a low, indecipherable rumble.
“I
don’t understand them sometimes,” Jackson shook his head at the raised
voice. He had a judgmental streak he
seldom tried to control. “Are they really crosswise with each other already? When Larabee had been ready to kill three men
to avenge Buck?”
“’I
am painfully and lovingly acquainted with alcohol and opiates. I hate myself that I need them. I hate them that I need them.’” Vin quoted.
At
first lost in his own thoughts, Nathan had to replay the words Vin spoke in his head.
They sounded so ... un-Vin-like.
His expression must have shown his surprise because Tanner explained,
“Something Mary used a while back teachin’ me to
read.”
“They’re
callin’ it ‘addiction’.” It was more small talk than
anything. He knew how much Vin loved to learn new things and words. “I’ve read a little
about it in some medical papers, mostly from England. Talkin’ about how
laudanum has the same effect on some ...” then the meaning behind his friend’s
words took on a whole new meaning, “You think Chris and Buck are addicted to
each other?” He was thunderstruck by the
explanation, the ramifications and the possible science behind it. Could humans ever be addicted to other
humans? He laughed, because it sure seemed to fit.
“I
think they are who they are.” Tanner shrugged.
Outside,
the tempest between the two men was, at the moment, in an ebb.
“What
happened out there, Chris?” Buck asked, “You’re wound tighter than a cheap
watch.”
“I
brought them in. I got the money back.” Was the only response.
“If you’re pissed at me, why? Dooley and them? Yourself? Help me out here.”
There
was a long pause before the admission came. “That book.” It was a whisper. Larabee was looking at his boots.
Buck
leaned down to try to force eye contact with his friend, “Say again?” It had been so low he hadn’t heard the words.
“That
book. ‘Larabee’s Bloody Revenge’. I
can’t control the words I say. But to
hear them from …” his words faded away.
There
was a long silence. Finally Buck put his
hand on the other man’s shoulder and spoke, “Somehow, somewhere, Chris Larabee
got bigger than life. Mostly
to people who don’t know you.” He added to try to lighten the
moment. Larabee wasn’t in a mood to be
amused. Wilmington added sincerely, “ The good, the bad … your friends usually don’t recognize
you when other folks speak of you. I
don’t recognize the man they talk about. Probably because I
never listen. I know you. I know
the Chris Larabee before the ‘man in black’; before the gunfighter. And I know
the man who’s fighting to get back to that place now, even if you won’t admit
it; don’t know it. That’s who I’m proud to stand with. That’s the man I see, the man I see more and
more come back now that Vin and the others help me
corral you. And that’s not who I see
because I wish it. It’s who you’re finding
again more and more every day.”
The
silence stretched out between them.
Larabee didn’t look up. There
were flashes of mind chatter once again that he couldn’t control and couldn’t
push back. That he couldn’t deny. But this time the dismay was encroached upon
by five men who accepted them both for who they were and helped friendship and
trust grow. A town
that was gradually becoming something worth saving. A place to put down roots.
Larabee
suddenly reached out and grabbed Wilmington. And he held on tight. Even when he had first seen the man and knew
he was alive, he still wasn’t sure the descriptions and words in that book
hadn’t ripped away their friendship. He clung on, felt the warmth, the
heartbeat, knew finally, his friend, his conscience, his lifeline was still
alive.
Buck
held his friend. His ma had shown him
that beyond actions or words, human contact, a gentle hug, healed. “You remember to try to see yourself through
the eyes of your friends, Old Dog. You
don’t give yourself a fair shake. We
know you better than you know yourself and a hell of a lot better than some bad
writer.”
The
moment was gone. Chris held his friend
at arm’s length. Buck watched Chris’s
eyes move as they tried to grasp something the mind was missing. He knew the moment the thought was
captured. Chris bounded onto the porch
and threw open the cabin door.
“Where
is he!?” He bellowed.
Nathan
and Vin looked his way. The man searched the small structure with his
eyes.
“The
little squatty legged dead man walking, where is he?” Larabee demanded.
“Josiah
went back to town to get a buggy for Buck.” Nathan offered, not in the least
phased by the man’s anger. “He
convinced Steele it would be a good idea if he were on a stagecoach headed east
before you got back, so he went along.”
Larabee
was out the door, on Buck’s horse and spun it toward town without another word.
“You’ve
still got my horse!” Wilmington shouted.
“Ooops.” Tanner opined
casually as he and Nathan walked to the door to watch the departure. He was
thinking of the future in store for the poor writer.
“Naw,” Jackson offered.
“They left two days ago. Josiah
and Ezra would see he was on the first stage if they had to stuff him in the
baggage in the back.”
Tanner
asked as he watched; as if a man riding hell bent for leather was an everyday
occurrence, “JD went with them?”
Nathan
knew the implication was that the tracker was surprised the young man had left
his friend. And said with a laugh, “Buck said all of us being out here was like
a kitchen klatch of old women waiting for another one to give birth.”
It
was rare for Tanner to be surprised, but he raised his eye brows in response to
that.
“Oh,
it was priceless. Especially
with Ezra helping with the description.
I think he wanted to get back to his creature comforts in town.” Nathan
continued, “Laying on the bed, Buck ranted about how he didn’t like his part in
the klatch and that we were all grown-ass men hired to watch a town not to
watch him sleep. And they were gone.”
“Well,
JD is the sheriff,” Tanner rationalized trying to get a few visuals out of his
head.
Buck
hobbled past them in time to offer with a conniving smirk, “When ma wanted to
stop a bunch of questions or get out of a conversation, or away from pushy men,
she’d always work ‘female issues’ into the topic. It works. The menfolk run for the hills.”
Vin and Nathan tilted their heads,
thinking on the truth of the statement, looked at each other and shrugged
consensus in an uncomfortable, let’s change the subject way.
“Got
venison roasting in the coals. Should be done about now,” Nathan
offered. “Anyone
hungry?”
Vin nodded and followed his friends
into the cabin.