In this AU, the boys are in modern day Texas. Sarah and Adam are still alive. We hope that we've set down a good foundation for others to build on.
We began this AU to explore the relationship between Chris and his family, in an effort to see Chris Larabee as the loving father and husband we believe the series was trying to portray him as. And to see how the boys would interact with Sarah and Adam. We welcome other writers who can share that vision and invite you to build on what we've started. We hope you can respect the premise of the AU.
The boys don't belong to us, dangnabit! Thanks to Mirisch, Trilogy, MGM, TNN, CBS, Hallmark Channel for bringing them to us. And many thanks to those seven wonderful actors for giving them life.
And eternal thanks to Rowan for her beta and her suggestions and remarks. (but we will continue to spelled it 'alright'!!). And thanks to Setcheti for giving the story a read and giving us her opinion before we posted it.
Larabee moved onto the deck. He could see Fowler limping toward the stable. He followed, determined to catch the man. He would use any means necessary to get the information he wanted. Any means.
Chris saw Fowler enter the stable about the same time as he heard the sirens of the responding backup. Chris entered through a side door. He wasn't sure what Fowler had in mind when he entered the barn. He'd expected the man to head toward his vehicle, try to escape.
"Fowler!"
The kidnapper turned and saw Larabee not fifteen feet from him. He smiled.
"Ranger Larabee. I see you survived. That's too bad."
"You're under arrest, Fowler." Chris aimed his gun at the other man.
Fowler reached slowly into his pocket, hesitating only slightly when Chris stepped closer. He pulled out a pack of matches and struck one, the flame casting flickering shadows in the nearly dark barn.
"Now, Ranger Larabee, I seriously doubt that you would shoot me. At least, not to kill. After all, how then would you find your son? Only I know where he is. Only I know where he is being shipped to. Only I know the name of his new owner."
"You bastard!"
Chris saw Fowler glance toward the hale bales stacked against the wall behind him. "Shit! Don't do it, Fowler. If those horses panic, we'll both die in here."
Fowler just smiled.
Chris ran forward, time slowing down around him. He knew he'd never reach Fowler in time and he could only watched as the match drop onto the dry hay.
Chris dove at Fowler, taking the man to the ground as the hay bale caught fire. The two men wrestled as the fire grew. The frightened whinnies of half a dozen horses were heard over their grunts and curses. Chris' gun slid across the dirt floor, knocked from his hand by a kick from Fowler.
"Chris!" a voice called. Larabee didn't turn, but knew the voice.
"Micah, get the horses out of the stable! Get that fire out!" he yelled just before swinging a fist that connected with Fowler jaw.
The foreman and two other hands ran into the stable. Micah pulled down the hose from the wall just inside the stable door. The other two men quickly opened the corral gate and then one by one moved the horses from the stable to the corral.
Chris and Fowler continued to fight. Both men had blood on their faces and both were panting from the exertion. Fowler ran at Chris, slamming against the stable wall. Larabee grunted, grimacing from the pain. He pulled his arm up, smashing his elbow against the side Fowler's head.
Fowler groan and moved away, but not before Chris kicked out, catching Fowler on the side of the leg, just above the bullet wound he'd sustained during the earlier shoot-out in the house.
Fowler howled and dropped to his knees. Chris staggered over to him, breathing heavily. He reached down the grab Fowler around, only to cry out and fall backward as Fowler tossed a handful of dirt into his eyes. He tripped over something on the ground, landing hard on his back.
His vision cleared just as a shot rang out. Looking up, he saw Fowler standing over him. In his hands was an ax, raised over his head, ready to slice down into Chris. A look of surprised was on his face and a large red stain was growing on his chest.
The ax dropped to the ground, bouncing once before landing flat. Fowler dropped to his knees, his hands against the wound. The dazed look on his face changed as his eyes met Larabee's. He smiled.
"I lied," he said, his words mixing with the blood as he coughed. "Your son is dead."
He fell forward, landing face first in the dirt.
"Noooooooooooooooooo!" Chris screamed. He dragged Fowler onto his back. "Wake up, you bastard! Tell me where he is!" Chris shook the man, even as he knew it was hopeless. "Tell me! Don't you die, you son of a bitch! Tell me where Adam is!"
Fowler opened his eyes. Coughing, spitting up blood, he smiled. "You'll never know."
"Who paid you? Where is my son?!"
"My...secret." Fowler coughed once more, then nothing. His eyes stared at nothing and his heart stopped.
"NO! Tell me!" Chris screamed again, pounding his fist on Fowler's chest. "Tell me."
Micah and the two hands turned to look at Buck, standing in the stable door with two Texas Rangers. He still held his gun in his hand, but tears were streaming down his face.
"Oh, God. Chris, I'm sorry. I didn't wanna kill him. I didn't have a choice. Oh, God."
"He never told me." He raised his head. "Buck, he said Adam...he said he was dead."
A gasp drew their attention behind Buck. Sarah stood there, dressed only in the long tshirt she wore to bed. She'd heard Chris' words. "No, no he can't be. No." She shook her head in denial, her eyes not leaving those of her husband, pleading with him to tell her where their son was and that he was safe.
Chris stood and moved quickly to her. "Shh, Sarah, it's okay. It's okay. We don't know anything for sure. He lied before. Shh." He gathered her in his arms and held on tight. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest.
"He's alive, Chris. He has to be alive. I would know if...I would know. I'm his mother. A mother would know," she insisted.
Chris turned and moved away, his arms stills wrapped around her trembling body, wanting to get her away from the dead body in the stable. He wanted to give her a chance to break down in private, if that's what she needed to do. And he wasn't so sure he wouldn't join her.
"Chris, not the house."
He stopped in confusion. Then he remembered. "Shit."
"Take her over to my place, Chris," Micah said. "Buck can come get ya if he needs ya."
"I'll bring ya both some clothes Chris," Buck said.
Larabee nodded and steered his wife in the other direction.
Behind him, chaos ensued as more and more emergency personnel arrived on the scene. But silence surrounded the couple as they slowly made their way toward the foreman's small cabin that stood a hundred yards away.
Buck watched them go, praying that Fowler was lying once again. Praying that he hadn't just killed the chance of finding Adam.
Two hours later, Buck entered the cabin. He moved into the main room to find Chris and Sarah stretched out together on the sofa. Both appeared to be asleep. He turned to leave, not wanting to disturb them.
"What is it, Buck?" Chris said.
Turning back, he saw them both looking at him, despair and agony radiating from two pairs of eyes.
"I just came by to let you know that the Crime Scene Unit is going to be awhile yet. Probably still be collecting evidence most of tomorrow. I think you should take Sarah to my place tonight."
"No," Sarah said, sitting up. "I know I still have to give a statement. Those two men in the bedroom..."
"You can do that tomorrow, hon," Buck said to the woman whom he considered a sister. "I gave my statement already. So did Slade and Marcus. You two can give your statements in the morning."
"Buck, we already talked about this," Chris told his friend. "We'd rather do it tonight, get it over with, while it's still fresh."
"You sure, pard?" Buck asked, concerned for both his friends.
"Yeah, we're sure."
"Buck, those men...are they dead?"
"Yeah, darling, they are. The two men in the bedroom and two of the men that Chris and I shot, plus Fowler."
"What about the other?" Chris asked.
"Still alive and in surgery at Baxter Medical Center. We got a guard on him. Slade and Marcus are at the hospital too."
"Did the bastard talk?"
"We questioned him the best we could. He said he didn't know what we were talking about. He didn't know anything about Adam. Told us Fowler just hired him and his friends yesterday to help him do this job."
He looked at Chris, the bruises on his face starting to show up from his fight with Fowler. "You doing okay, pard? Maybe we should have the doc take a look at you."
"I'm fine."
"I'll be the judge of that," said another voice from the doorway.
All three looked toward the cabin entrance to find Nathan Jackson, Chief Medical Examiner standing there, one hand holding a medical bag, and wearing a scowl on his face. The M.E. was, or course, also a medical doctor. Although, unlike most coroners, Nathan actually practiced. He spent a portion his off time working at a local clinic that was only a few miles from Larabee's ranch.
"Nathan, what brings you out here?" Chris asked.
"You leave bodies laying all over the place and you wonder why I'm here," the doctor replied with a shake of his head as he plopped down onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Now, I understand you took a few good blows. Let's take a look at you." He reached into the bag he'd set down on the table beside him. Chris looked at Buck, who just shrugged, trying without much success to stifle his amusement.
Nathan pulled out his blood pressure cuff and lay it on his lap. Then he found his stethoscope and slipped it around his neck. Picking up the blood pressure cuff he reached for Chris' arm. Without another word, he wrapped the cuff around Larabee's upper arm and began to check him out.
Chris and Nathan had known each other for years. Therefore Chris knew it would be useless to argue. So he quietly submitted to the exam.
Fifteen minutes later, Nathan declared him fit, if a little banged up.
"Thanks, Nathan. I appreciate you doing this. Saves me a trip to the hospital," Chris said as he accepted a cup of coffee from Buck.
"You should have let the paramedics check you out when they were here earlier, Chris. If you had had any serious injuries, the wait could have been dangerous."
"I knew I wasn't hurt bad, Nathan. And at the moment, getting Sarah away from all that was more important."
Nathan just grunted. Before he could reply further there was a commotion outside.
"Young man, that is my family in there. Now you step aside and let me through or I'll put you over my knee."
Buck chuckled. "Nettie's here." He winked at the others before getting up and heading toward the door.
"Nettie, are you threatening those poor police officers?"
"Buck Wilmington, you get your sorry carcass out here and tell this young whippersnapper to let me in to see my baby girl."
Sarah looked up at Chris and smiled. "I'm thirty-five years old and still her baby girl," she sighed. "But I'm glad she's here."
"Me too," he replied, giving her a one-arm hug. Two seconds later a whirlwind entered the room. A five-foot-six-inch, sixty-two year old, gray-haired whirlwind.
"Sarah, dear, are you alright? Chris Larabee, what's the meaning of all this? Any word on Adam? Are you the one who shot that bastard in the stable. Nathan Jackson, what are you doing sitting there. Get off your duff and get in that kitchen, fix these youngsters something to eat. Buck, make another pot of coffee, strong, you know how I like it. Sarah dear, come to Nettie."
The old woman took a seat next to her adopted daughter. Chris released his hold on his wife, allowing her to lean against Nettie. He and Nettie exchanged worried glances before she reached out a hand and pulled him close as well.
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