Universe: Little Britches
Rating: G
Notes: This came about in response to one of the M7M challenges. The challenge was to have something the guys relied on breaks. Seems people weren't too happy with the way I left it ("Two shots rang out in quick succession."). To appease the masses, I expanded to this.
On a different note, this is my first (finished) OW fic, and I can only remember sketchy details about the show. If some things don't seem entirely right, please don't be too harsh.
It was decided that morning that Buck would drive the wagon and the boys into town to get supplies, and Chris would follow when he finished doctoring to a sick horse. The task took most of the morning, and Buck and the boys were nowhere in sight when Chris arrived in town, although the horses were in the livery and the wagon was parked in front of the Potter's mercantile when he arrived.
Josiah met him as he came out of the livery. "Everything quiet?" Chris asked, as was his habit.
"Yep," the big preacher answered, easily falling into step with the blond as he made his way towards the saloon. "Man came into town yesterday, looks like a gunslinger. We're keepin' an eye on him, but he's alone and hasn't made any trouble so far."
Chris nodded, storing that information away. "Anybody else?" he questioned brusquely.
"Nope, that's it."
"Alright, keep me informed. Where's Buck?"
"Last I saw he was trying to woo the fair Miz Rescillo." Chris looked up sharply at that, but before he could protest, Josiah continued. "JD's up with Nathan in the clinic, and I believe Ezra has Vin at Miz Potter's store. He said something about owing Vin some candy or something."
"Great," Chris grumbled. "That's just what we need."
Josiah just grinned.
"That it?"
The preacher nodded.
"Thanks."
"My pleasure, Brother," Josiah acknowledged before peeling off and heading towards the church.
"Larabee!" Chris turned at the sound of his name being yelled from down the street.
A man stood in the middle of the street. He was older than Chris, and looked to be slightly drunk, or possibly hungover. He had a rumpled appearance, faded clothes that looked to have been slept in, and stubble on his face. He had to be the gunslinger that Josiah had spoken of, but what the preacher had failed to mention was that the man was washed out. Men like that, old men looking to rejuvenate their reputations, were just as dangerous, if not more so, as young men looking to make a name for themselves.
"I'm callin' you out." He growled.
There had been a time when Chris welcomed scenes like these, had sought them out even, after Sarah and Adam died. But this time was different; two little boys had come in to his life and changed all that. This time he had two little boys who loved him, and one very special little boy in particular who was counting on him to come home. And Chris couldn't even begin to imagine letting him down.
The other man reached for his gun, reaction time slowed by the alcohol in his system. At the first movement Chris drew his gun in one fluid motion, aiming and squeezing the trigger before the other gunslinger had even cleared leather.
His heart froze when the gun refused to fire. All he could think about was Vin and how much that little boy with soul-deep blue eyes that had stolen his heart depended on him.
Two shots rang out in quick succession.
Chris tensed in preparation for the pain he knew was coming.
But it never did come. Instead he watched as his assailant dropped like a dead weight, taken down by an unseen force.
Chris turned, wary and on edge, but the sight that met his eyes was a familiar and unthreatening one. Ezra stood on the porch of Potter's store, gun in hand. Vin stood slightly behind him, a small, pale ghost, wide eyes fixed on Chris.
Chris took a step towards the pair, then another, eyes fixed on Vin, and that was all the prompting the boy needed to be moving forward and launching himself into Chris's arms as the blond approached. Vin burrowed deep into Chris's arms, face buried in the crook of his neck. At that point, Chris didn't care who saw him like this, he needed to be holding Vin as much as Vin needed to be held.
"It would doubtless be prudent to ascertain what malfunctioned in your firearm."
Chris nodded crisply, still holding tight to Vin, and ignoring the other three men who had come running at the sound of the gunshots. "Thanks," he whispered to Ezra over Vin's head.
"No boy should watch his father be gunned down in cold blood," Ezra stated flatly. There was an odd darkness lurking in the depths of his emerald eyes, almost a sadness, but Ezra quickly either shook it off or masked it, because a second later it was gone.
"Thank you," Chris repeated, "from the bottom of my heart."
Ezra's eyes thawed, and for just a second, a faint smile graced his lips.
Finis
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