DISCLAIMER: The characters used are the property of MGM and Trilogy. No financial or creative rights are claimed to the characters from the Magnificent Seven television series.
RATING: PG -- mild cussing.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please.
SPOILERS: Achilles, and a hint of my story Blood Trail.
NOTE: Thanks to my Betas, Sarah, SueB, SueN, and Sara (Dutch). They make everything I write better, and keep me from embarrassing myself in public. And a tip of the hat to Shellie.
Buck Wilmington strode into the saloon with the confident ease of a man who knows he has completed a job well done, and deserves a reward for it. Right now, that reward was a tall, cool mug of beer and a willowy blond songstress come to town to entertain at the Hotel. Lydia Lind claimed to be some sort of cousin of the Swedish Nightingale — well, Buck wasn't born yesterday, and he sure as hell wasn't any of Barnum's suckers, but if it gave Miss Lydia pleasure to spout those claims, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. And she sure sang as pretty as any prairie nightingale he had ever heard.
He claimed his beer from Inez, whose attitude of late was as frosty as the mug she slid down to him. Buck caught it expertly and gave her a grin and a wink. No use lettin' her see that her eyes pierced his heart like needles of ice. And no use in lettin' that get in the way of his rendezvous with Miss Lydia Lind. No cold shoulder there! Buck ran a finger over his glossy moustache in anticipation of an evenin' well spent. He turned to the table where his fellow peacekeepers had gathered, and realized there was something profoundly wrong with the picture.
It wasn't that Vin Tanner was absent; Buck had seen him perched on a rooftop across the way. It seemed like the tracker was half peregrine falcon, the way he preferred the sky to solid ground. Chris was at the table, nursing a beer which made Buck breathe a sigh of relief. He'd been layin' off the whiskey since Vin had been hurt so bad a while back, and that abstinence had done him a world of good; mellowed out that hair-trigger temper of his, at any rate. Ezra, Nathan, and Josiah were engaging in a game of chance that only the gambler was taking seriously, because it seemed that for some inexplicable reason, Josiah was winning. But it was the solitary figure at a table removed from the rest that skewed the picture. JD Dunne was drinking alone.
Buck tipped his hat to Chris, whose green gaze had flicked to Dunne, with a frown of concern. They had a way of speaking, learnt during the war, that didn't need words for expression. Buck's brow lifted, and Chris gave a scarcely perceptible shrug of a black-clad shoulder. That Larabee, who knew the perils of drinking alone better than any man had a right, was concerned about JD, made Buck's stomach go all hollow and fluttery. He nodded, then slid into a chair at JD's table. "Hey there, kid. What ya doin' here by your lonesome? Ezra take ya fer a ride?" He knew for damn sure that wasn't the reason, but the kid wouldn't talk, otherwise.
JD's hazel eyes glanced up briefly before they were shielded by black lashes. "I don't feel like company, Buck."
"That beer ain't gonna offer any answers to what's troublin' you, JD."
"There ain't any answers, Buck. So leave me alone." JD's voice held both panic and pain. Buck's heart quailed in his breast, and with sudden intuition he fixed on the problem. Annie. He'd thought it was an old wound, leaving just a scar. Apparently, something had happened to make it bleed afresh. Buck eased his spine lower in his chair, and JD sighed in resignation. "Fine, just don't expect me ta talk."
"Sure, kid." For a few minutes Buck pretended to pay inordinate attention to the head of foam on his beer. JD fidgeted in with the buttons on his coat sleeve, worrying at them. When he caught Buck's speculative study, he stopped abruptly, and laced his finger tightly together. Buck could see that he was at the edge of speaking; just needed a few minutes before he put it all together in his mind and let it out.
JD opened his mouth, shut it, and then drew in a breath. "I was out riding today. Happened on Hiram. He was takin' flowers to ... to Annie's ... grave —" JD's eyes clouded with tears and he angrily blinked them away. "He— he told me he don't hold me t'blame no more. But Buck ... I killed her, and I don't think I'll ever forget the way I felt that day. Hurts just as much now as it did then." His voice cracked, sounding so young and so wounded that Buck ached for him. "When will it go away, Buck? When will it not hurt?"
Buck considered him gravely. "Maybe it's better that it don't go away, JD. Reckon those regrets are what keep you from bein' jist another man with a gun."
"But you and the others —"
"Me n'the others what?" Buck asked, coming out of his slouch all in a piece. "Don't have regrets? Don't feel nothin' when we hafta kill? JD, son, you don't know the half of it. And I pray t'God that you never do."
JD gulped down the tears that were filling his throat. "I don't see none of you cryin' in your beer. Aw, hell. I shouldn't expect you to understand —" He started to push himself away from the table.
"I was about th' same age as you, when I killed my first man," Buck said softly. JD sat back down as if his knees had given way beneath him. "It was during a skirmish, a little no account sorta battle. He wasn't no older r'smarter n' me. He came rushin' at me, waving his pistol and callin' me Johnny Reb. So's I shot him. That look of surprise in his eyes ..." Buck shook his head. "Never fergot that. Never fergot the feel of his blood on me, or the sound of his last breath. I puked all over my boots, got up, and went on fightin'. I musta killed a hundred men in th'war, JD. But th'only one haunts me, is the first."
"But that was different, Buck. That was in the war. You were only defending yourself."
Buck's blue eyes were very direct. "Me n' Chris. Vin, too, I reckon — we all lost somethin' in that war. Lost what makes you hurt like you do. And there's not a one of us who don't wish we had it back."
"Well, I don't like feelin' this way, Buck. Like sandpaper's rubbing across my heart. Can't believe anyone would." JD dragged a hand across his eyes, trying to hide the overflowing tears from Buck's perceptive study. He took refuge in his mug of beer, raising it and drinking deeply. He stood up. "I'm getting another one."
"Larabee'd be the first one to tell you it ain't gonna help." JD just shot him a glare and went to get his refill. Buck sighed and sank back into his slouch. At least it was beer the kid was drinking and not whiskey. He'd almost made it through to JD's bruised heart, but those barriers had gone up, and he wasn't sure how to get them back down.
Damn, if he hadn't been protective of JD ever since the kid had shown up in Four Corners, determined to prove that he was rough n' tumble, and ready to ride. He had been as bright and shiny as a new penny, full of hope and youthful enthusiasm. Sure, he'd not had an easy life back East, and had seen the West in all its cruelties since his inclusion in the group of seven, but when the others looked at JD, they saw the same thing; the ghosts of their own lost innocence and youth in that face.
Vin came in through the swinging saloon doors, so quiet that the wind might have blown them open. Though all the tables were filled and the air was smoky and thick, his sharp gaze swept the room, focusing on what he needed to see: Buck sitting alone, the others separate, and JD standing at the bar. He went first to Buck's table, sensing that the quiver he felt in the atmosphere came from those quarters. He stood there, hip-shot, one hand at his gunbelt, considering the situation.
"You got trouble, Bucklin?" Buck inclined his head, inviting Vin to sit. He did, wearily. "You gonna tell me about it, or jist make me guess?" He looked thoughtfully at JD, and back at Buck. "Somethin' eatin' at the kid?"
Buck swore Vin had gypsy blood in him, the way he read minds. "He saw Hiram today. Out by Annie's grave."
"Shit. He say somethin' ta JD?"
"Yeah, he said he don't hold him to blame. Only thing is, JD can't stop blaming himself." When Vin made no reply, Buck asked, "You ever killed someone you didn't mean to, Vin?"
The tracker's eyes darkened, and Buck had his answer in that sadness. Vin sighed. "Long time ago, Buck. Long time gone." He ducked his head slightly, taking refuge behind the shadowing brim of his hat.
Regret hit Buck for raising those memories. It was easy to forget that Vin wasn't more than a few years older than JD. A few years, and a thousand lifetimes. "Sorry, pard. Didn't mean ta pry."
Vin raised one slim shoulder in a shrug. "Don't matter none. Ain't a thing I c'n do about it." The words were hard, but the softness in his voice betrayed the lingering hurt. "Kid's gotta learn not t'let his soul leak out, Buck. Else he won't have nothin' left." Almost imperceptibly, his eyes rested on Chris Larabee. He gave Buck one of his brief nods, rose and drifted away towards the other table.
JD thought Inez was pouring him a glass of molasses rather than beer, she was taking so long. He saw Vin come into the saloon, sit with Buck in earnest conversation, then move to sit next to Larabee. He felt like every eye in the place was suddenly on him. "Inez! That beer bein' brewed fresh?" he inquired irritably.
"Senor Dunne. Look around you. Are you my only customer?" Her tone was tart, but her eyes were concerned. "And chico, you have had three glasses already."
"Since when have you been countin' my beers? I ain't a kid you know."
"Then stop acting like one." She set the glass down in front of him with a thump that sloshed the beer over the rim and onto the counter. "Go back to your table, JD, and drink this one slowly, because I am not going to serve you another tonight."
"Fine," he grumbled. "Fine." It was bad enough that he was so confused that he didn't know which end was up, without Inez swooping down on him like a disapproving older sister. He already had Buck hovering over him, and Vin watching without seeming to from beneath the slouched brim of his hat. Damn Buck anyways for talkin' about things JD would just as soon forget.
If there was a way he could get out of the saloon without Buck noticing, he would have done it; just taken his beer and gone back to his room. He couldn't even go into the jail without feeling like he was trespassing right now. Instead of returning to the table where Buck sat, he brushed past him and went outside to the front stoop.
It was a warm night, and folks were walking past. Most of 'em nodded or spoke some pleasantry to him, which he barely acknowledged. It was worse out here than inside. JD moved from the light into the shadows and drew his knees close to his chest, trying to make himself invisible. Hell, if Vin could do it in a room full of light and people, the dark should work for him. All he wanted was some time to figure things out.
Buck stared hard after Tanner. His first instinct had been to protest that JD was nothing like Chris Larabee, but thinking on Vin's words made him reconsider. The cause might be different, but the root of the hurt was the same. Guilt and regret. And the pain both men felt was the empty ache of a "soul leakin' out." Damn, if Vin hadn't spoke it right! Trick was to find a way to stop that slow bleed from a wounded heart.
He was so lost in thought that when JD brushed past on his way out of the saloon, Buck was startled. Now what? He looked to Inez, who shook her head sadly. There was no ice in those eyes now. She came over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Will you go after him, Buck?"
"He wants to be alone."
"No. He thinks he wants to be alone. He needs you."
"Aw hell, you know I was gonna go after him anyways." Buck picked up his hat and stepped outside. "JD?" Not on the stoop, not on the bench running alongside the front wall. Not at the well-lit far end near the hotel. Buck turned in the other direction, and caught a dark shape huddled in the shadows. A stray glint of light picked out the glitter of a mug as it was raised and then lowered. Buck walked over. He looked down at JD and sighed gustily. "A man shouldn't drink alone. Mind if I join ya?" He didn't wait for an answer, but slid his long body down, resting his hands on his folded knees.
JD gave a soft, resigned laugh. "You don't give up easy, Buck."
"Quittin' ain't in me, JD. You know that."
JD cast him a quick look. Knew it? He saw it every day. "Surprised you wanta put up with me. Inez says I'm acting like a kid." He took another swallow of beer. "But I ain't, Buck. I just ... I just don't know how to stop feeling the way I do."
"No one's gonna say you ain't got a right to those feelings. Somedays ya jist gotta let'em come out; but not like this, JD. Not all bitter and ugly, and not alone. Not like —" Buck swallowed the quick lump rising in his throat. "Don't waste them years, JD. It ain't worth it."
JD stared down into the dregs of his beer. Suddenly it didn't taste so good, and the three others were sitting heavy in his belly. He set the mug down with a sigh. "It hurts, Buck."
"Let it hurt. Let it heal. And then let it go.Might take some time, but you know where you can go t'get some understandin'. We've all been there, JD. Every one of us." He reached out and ruffled JD's black hair. "What say you to gettin' some of Inez' coffee?"
"I ain't a kid, Buck."
"Yeah, but you cain't tell me you c'n hold another beer, son." Buck grinned. "How many you had?"
"Only four," JD protested.
"Any of 'em make you feel better?"
"Hell, no." JD smiled for the first time that evening, and was surprised that it didn't hurt quite so much as he had thought. He let Buck drape a brotherly arm around his shoulders, and they went into the saloon; into light and laughter.
Buck got the coffee, along with a grateful smile from Inez, that completely drove any thoughts of Miss Lydia Lind out of his mind. Miss Lydia could wait. He had more important matters to attend to. JD had joined the others, sliding in between Vin and Josiah, who was counting the pot he had won from Ezra. The gambler was stammering with chagrin, and Nathan was trying not to burst out laughing. Chris was sitting as silently as he ever did, exchanging quiet, amused glances with Vin as they watched the antics of the others. JD seemed a mite skittish yet, and a bit shamefaced over his earlier behavior, but no one remarked on it; they just made room for him. Buck hooked a chair over to the table, wrangled a place next to JD and sat down with a satisfied sigh. Times were, when things seemed right. He would not deceive himself into thinking it would stay that way. Tonight, he would take his own advice and let it go.
The End
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