Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
Marriage was meant to be a life time commitment between two people, a symphony of souls bound in the union of love, creating from it the foundation that inspired the progeny of the future. Poets sang songs in its honour, religion held in such reverence because it was the ultimate bonding of man and a woman, a covenant that began from the moment Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden to face the wilderness together. There was no institution finer, more revered in the history of all things borne of man.
Then why did Chris still feel this insatiable urge to shove Mary out of the wagon?
The journey to Sweet Water was possibly the longest in his life with the woman he loved (most of the time) expressing her displeasure at his reluctance to make this journey with her in the most vocal manner possible. He realised of course that this was partially his fault. However, pride kept him from saying what was necessary to salve her wounded emotions. True, accompanying her to Sweet Water for a shopping spree was slightly less painful that shooting oneself in the gut but he had better ways of getting around it than being antagonistic. After all, he could have made some excuse when they had arrived and disappeared for a couple of hours, taking refuge in a saloon until she had shopped to her hearts content.
Instead, he had properly inspired her anger which was something of an achievement because his wife was not normally a tempestuous harpy. Mary spoke her mind but she did not get angry unnecessarily and it took quite a bit for her to be angry with him. Most of the time, Chris sensed she humoured his eccentricities and avoided arguments because she was married before and knew that sometimes one just had to put up with a husband demands no matter how silly it might be. Of course, Mary was not complacent all the time and when she felt there was an issue to discuss, there was no force in heaven or earth who could stop her.
Her mood was particularly incendiary because she was nearly six months pregnant and hormones were coursing through her veins, making her temper take on the consistency of dynamite requiring only a spark from him to set it off. While he felt slightly guilty for provoking her anger in the state she was in, Chris could no find himself to say the words to assuage her temper. Thus he was forced to sit here, listening to her tell him in no uncertain terms, why he was such an idiot.
Despite her telling him that he was a moron and he bearing it quite stoically, since he had crossed that threshold known only to husbands, attaining a state of being where he was capable of shutting out of her voice, Chris thought it was a rather nice day. The storm that had been approaching Four Corners when they had left lay in the other direction and above them was blue skies, a hint of wind that was most likely a residual effect of the tempest brewing elsewhere.
Chris kept his hands on the reins, his eyes gazing into the greenery and firmly located in his 'happy place' lest he started listening to Mary and began taking exception to her annoyance with a response he was certain he would regret later. His plan was simple, to let her get it out of her system and head for the nearest saloon once he hit Sweet Water. Hopefully, a day shopping would calm her down and give him a reason not to go through his plan of putting her in a burlap sack and sticking her in the back tray for the duration of the journey home.
It was a good thought though and brought a smile to his face when he thought of it.
"Chris!" Mary barked. "Are you listening to me?"
Chris snapped out of that thought and regarded her, wondering what was the matter now. He loved this woman, he truly did but sometimes, she could be so infuriating. "I'm ain't deaf Mary." He gave her a look.
"I just don't see what's so hard about coming shopping with me," she frowned, certain that he had not really been listening to her but she was getting just as tired as he about this argument and since they were almost to Sweet Water, it seemed like a moot point. In retrospect, Mary wondered if perhaps she was being unreasonable, after all, he was a hardened gunslinger, used to living the rough and tumble life but they had been married for more than a year now and she thought he might be used to by now. Of course, his image had a lot to do with it. She had after all, married the quintessential bad element. That was how he had described himself to begin with and Mary had accepted it.
"Look," he said letting out a deep breath and turning that high powered gaze upon her which usually meant that she was grabbing a tiger by its tail by continuing with this. "I am going with you aint I?" He retorted.
"Yes," she nodded quietly, offering him a pout before turning away. "I just thought that you might want to be apart of it."
"I do want to be apart of it!" He exclaimed, wondering how she could even think that. "I just don't want to go shopping with you. That's women's work." He drawled and winced the minute he saw the dark expression on her face that probably was not the best thing to have said at this point.
"Women's work!" She glared at him, hands flying to her hips in anger. "Its all women's work Chris! The carrying the baby, the morning sickness, the swollen ankles, growing fat and huge like a walrus, the mood swings and finally the piece de resistance, the labour! Your entire contribution so far is the sex and complaint why I'm so difficult!"
"Is that so?" Chris bristled, angered that she could reduce his participation to just as the provider of seed and complaints. "Well I guess you won't mind if I disappear when we get to Sweet Water, since I'm not doing much as it is!"
"That's fine with me!" She snapped and folded her arms over her chest and looked away, her cheeks flushed red with anger.
Both did not say a word for a moment, with Chris determined that he was not going to apologise for anything. However, even as he tried to force his defiance to remain in place, he knew that she was right. Pregnancy was one of those things that men could seldom contribute in any great capacity, other than the initial conception. After that it was merely a matter of tolerating the process as their women underwent changes for the next nine months until the baby finally arrived. Mary was still doing all the things that she had done when he had first met her, except on top of running the paper, playing community leader on occasion, she also had Billy back full time and a husband and a household to contend with. With the ranch and the protection of the town under his sphere of responsibility, he supposed that he had done very little to alleviate that intense workload.
Chris was still considering all these factors, when suddenly he heard a sound.
Sniff.
Sniff? Aw Hell! He looked sharply and knew that sound was exactly what he suspected. Chris groaned inwardly, knowing that was the one thing he could not stand up against, the sound of Mary's tears. Biting down as he rolled his eyes in exasperation because he could feel himself succumbing to the sound of those tears. Chris swallowed the lump in his throat and wondered how it was possible for this woman, with her soft ways and her blue grey eyes, could make him squirm where men who made killing an art form could barely get a rise out of him.
"Mary..." He dropped the reins for a moment and slid closer to her on the seat, feeling his anger dissolved as he wrapped an arm around her tenderly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be such a damn fool."
"It just feels like you're not happy about the baby at all." Mary swallowed, wiping her tears from her eyes because it was not a ploy to win their argument.
"That ain't true." He said firmly, wondering how she could believe that he would be anything but utterly ecstatic about their child. However, even as he thought that, he knew that there was a part of him that was still cautious and wary about bringing a new life into this world. It did not have so much to do with the fact that he was accustomed to having a family again, on the contrary, he looked forward to it. However, a baby was a large responsibility and the first time he had been in this situation, he had looked upon the experience with a sense of hope for the future. The possibility that he could lose everything had never occurred to him when Adam was born.
It did now.
"I am happy." He finally admitted, aware that he owed her an explanation of some kind despite her anger. "I just worry about things." His voice drifted off and she needed no elaboration on what he meant by that.
"Chris," Mary looked at him, composing herself because she could tell this was at the heart of all his ambivalence. "No one can guarantee that our life isn't going to go the way we want. We just have to..." Her words drifted off for a moment and a strange look overcame her features as stared into empty space, trying to examine what it was she felt.
"What?" He picked up the odd expression on her face and grew immediately alarmed.
"I felt something." She remarked, her face looking very serious at that moment and further deepened his concern.
"Mary," Chris replied. "What is it?" He demanded. They were out in the middle of nowhere, Sweet Water was an hour away as well as a doctor. If something was wrong, he wanted to know and he wanted to know right now. Panic was starting to set in and suddenly he was revisited with all the fears that only a moment ago, Mary had been trying so hard to make him disregard.
"Chris," she turned to him with a small smile. "I think I just felt the baby kick."
Chris glanced instinctively at her swelling abdomen and met her eyes once more. "Really?" He asked.
"Yes," she beamed and took his hand, placing his palm against the curve of her body so he could experience it with her.
For an instance, he felt nothing and then there it was. It felt like a flutter under her skin, like a ripple in water. It made contact with his skin and expanded from his palm like a flood, sweeping through him a wave of wonder that paralysed his every though from the sheer power of what it meant. Chris was unaware that he was holding his breath until he found the will to speak and when the voice escaped his throat, it was like a gasp.
"God." He whispered. He had been away so much during Sarah's pregnancy he rarely had the opportunity of feeling the emerging life that was Adam until he actually came into the world. After she had died, the guilt he had felt over all these little things had returned to haunt him in the midst of the despair. He had sworn that when he married again that he would miss nothing and then realised that the whole argument of coming to Sweet Water was pure foolishness. If he had remained at home as he wished, he would have missed this moment and he did not want to miss it, not ever.
"That's our baby, Chris." Mary answered, fresh tears in her eyes but this time it was not out of anger but happiness.
"Yeah," he smiled at her. "It feels like a boy." He remarked.
"That's what you all say." She laughed, wiping her wet cheeks. "I would not mind a girl."
In truth, neither would Chris. He was not very particular on what gender their new baby would be as long as both mother and child survive the ordeal in good health. Chris raised his eyes to Mary and lowered his lips to hers, feeling suddenly grateful that he was here with her to share this moment and no longer felt any annoyance that she had forced her to come with him.
"As long as she looks like you." He smiled after he had parted from that soul searching kiss that told her with more clarity than words ever could, his sorrow at their quarrel and his happiness that she was in his life. It was odd how such a small offering by their child could put aside so many petty emotions and remind them of what was truly important.
"Chris," Mary said after a moment. "You don't have to come shopping with me. I can manage on my own. When we get to Sweet Water, why don't you go do whatever it is you do. I'll be fine."
Chris let out a sigh and saw that she was attempting to make amends. "No I'll come with you." He surprised her by saying as he faced front again after picking up the reins and prompting Homer to get going. "But if you don't mind, I'll wait outside while you do your shopping."
Mary beamed happily at the gesture he was making and felt her anger at him bleed away into nothingness. "I can live with that." She returned before leaning her head against his shoulder as they continued their journey to Sweet Water.
It was almost noon when Chris and Mary arrived in Sweet Water.
Unlike the rest of the country side that was experiencing bad weather, the storm that was currently ravaging through the Territory had conveniently bypassed Sweet Water. The neglect by the precipitous climate had thus allowed its citizens to enjoy a relatively sunny day with just a touch of a breeze to make it quite a pleasant time to be outdoors. When husband and wife arrived in town, most of the townspeople were out in force, going about their business as was expected on a busy work day. After their arguments during most of their journey to Sweet Water, Chris decided to take his wife to a local restaurant for a bit of lunch before accompanying her on the rest of her plans for the day.
He still did not look forward to going with her but had learnt to put things in perspective after the tiny miracle of their child announcing its presence, probably because it was just as sick as they were with the bickering that had been going on. Chris had to admit he like taking Mary out, feeling slightly guilty that he did not do it more often. However, as he thought about it deeper in length, Chris did not think he was this neglectful when he had been married to Sarah.
He remembered dances, dinners, rides out in the country, going to picnics with her and Adam. He had managed all this while running a ranch and suddenly, Chris felt inordinately ashamed when he realised that he had made no such effort with Mary. In fact, he lavished more time taking Billy fishing and hunting then he did spending time with Mary.
Chris resolved that when they got back to Four Corners, he was changing that.
Gunderson could not believe it when he looked out the window and saw the familiar face of Chris Larabee walking down the boardwalk, across the street from the saloon where the outlaw was presently drinking with his friends. They had crossed paths almost four years ago in Vesta City where Larabee had stolen his woman, a saloon girl name Josie. Gunderson had burst in on them but coward that Larabee was had been hiding behind a door and shot him, damn near would have killed him if not for the bullet being off mark enough to leave a sizeable nick in the side of his head instead of entering skull.
Although some said that that should been the end of the matter, Gunderson was not a man who forgot his debts. The scar above his eye was there to remind him of the humiliation he had suffered at Larabee's hands each time he looked at the mirror. Gunderson drained his glass and walked to the window, peering through the glass trying to ensure whether or not he was mistaken but he knew he was not. Larabee was not exactly a man who could hide himself. As Gunderson kept his eye on the lean figure waiting outside one of the stores in the main street, clad in black with eyes that always seemed like they were pulling strips of everyone who passed his notice, Gunderson knew it could be no one else but Chris Larabee.
"Boys," he drawled as he turned back to his men. "Looks like things just got interesting. Larabee's here."
The four men who rode with Gunderson knew exactly what Larabee meant to their leader, not simply from his telling them repeatedly every time he got drunk or anyone had unwisely inquired after the injury, but also from the gunslinger's fearsome reputation. Larabee was supposed to be very fast and extremely lethal. When they had entered this saloon full of cowpokes, drifters and other outlaws like them, they had only come for a drink and to pay call on the saloon girls working the room. Confronting a gunslinger with Larabee's reputation ranked was not something they had been planning on doing today however, if Larabee's appearance was light a red flag in front of Gunderson's bull and however this went, it was going to happen with or without their help.
"Chris Larabee?" Mayborn, the youngest of them asked. "I though he was out in Four Corners, playing lawman with six deputies."
The younger man had read Jock Steele's story about the Magnificent Seven to know that it was unwise to get in Larabee's crosshairs without incurring the wrath of his companions, not to mention the main himself. Mayborn had joined up with Gunderson fresh off the farm because he hated being tied to the land. Gunderson had promised him adventure and a life beholding to no one. While experience had taught Mayborn that Gunderson's promise what nowhere near the reality, he still had the wanderlust and enjoyed travelling in the man's company even if he had to suffer aiding the man in the odd grudge he had against some poor, unsuspecting bastard. Gunderson had a tendency to collect grudges like some men collected women in every town they happened along, Gunderson took offence easily and demanded vengeance only when the opponent was not terribly formidable.
However, Larabee was a different kettle of fish all together. Gunderson was a fair man with a gun but he was nowhere in Larabee's calibre, not to mention that the gunslinger was notorious for taking threats to his person with extreme hostility. Prior to Larabee's settling in Four Corners, there were not many men who walked away from their encounters with him. People who started gunfights with Chris Larabee did not live to regret it and Mayborn had enough feeling for Gunderson to know he could be added to those score of victims if he went after the man.
"That's what I heard too." Quincy drawled in that voice of his that sounded like grated glass. Quincy was a huge hulk of a man and when he leaned against the bar counter, it felt like he was towering over it. People gave old Quince a wide berth because they could tell in his eyes that killing was not just a fact of life for him but rather a fringe benefit.
"I don't care who he rides with," Gunderson said filling his glass once more. "I want him."
"Maybe we ought to see what he's doing in town first." Mayborn suggested, not wanting Gunderson to do anything rash. "Why don't Skeet and I follow him around a bit, see if his men are in town. If they ain't, you can take him out fair and square." The younger man looked at Gunderson hoping the argument would win out against his need for vengeance.
Skeet, a small wiry man who had a penchant for sneaking up on people with a knife, grinned a mouthful of yellowed teeth in Gunderson's direction to show his approval with Mayborn's plan. "Yeah Boss, why don't we soften him up for ya?"
"You don't need to soften him up." Gunderson glared at the smaller man for daring to admit he might not be able to take on Larabee on his own. "I can take him on my own."
Mayborn caused a stony glare at Skeet and warned him to shut up before addressing Gunderson again. "We ain't gonna do nothing to him. We're just making sure the odds are little fairer for you."
Gunderson seemed to approve of that and nodded slightly before answering. "All right," he finally agreed. "Well do it your way but when the day's over, Larabee is mine."
Chris waited outside the shopfront, glancing occasionally through the glass to see how Mary was progressing. He waited outside the store whose speciality appeared to be children's clothing and noticed to his surprise when he finally paid attention that he was not alone in his purgatory. There were a number of bored men lounging along the boardwalk either next to or close to the shop, appearing as if they were all trapped in the same cage. Suddenly, he realised to his utter horror that he was caught in the hell of bored husband who was forced to accompany their wives shopping. They all wore that same expression of resigned doom as they waited about for their women to complete whatever transaction was taking place inside the confines of the shop, all appreciating each other's dilemma.
Once again, Chris Larabee found himself wondering how in the world he had become reduced to such circumstances. After Sarah and Adam had passed from his life, Chris' existence had been one of saloons and gunfights, where he had been the lone warrior, brooding and sombre, living a life of danger. He had become accustomed to it and to a certain extent he liked it. Even though he had been a family man for the last year or so, his role as protector of Four Corners had not changed that lifestyle very much. However, until this very moment, Chris had not realised that he was tethered to domesticity again. The man who married Sarah Connelly was different from the one who married Mary Travis. Chris barely recognised Sarah's husband when he looked into the mirror some times and knew that what he had been was gone forever. Chris was not fully comfortable yet with letting go of his 'bad element' reputation because that persona had kept him alive, not to mention his growing family as well.
Deciding he was not going to languish here indefinitely and aware that Mary would understand, Chris went to pick up a newspaper for something to do while he was waiting. He left the company of the husbands, grateful to escape them because he looked so out of place among their number. They were farmers and ordinary townsfolk who did not at all look like a gunfighter which no one who saw him would believe anything else. The newspaper was sold at a nearby general store and his entrance into the premises garnered some interest from the patrons within, who could not help but stare at the imposing gunslinger clad in black and wearing a look of danger about him that was almost tangible in its intensity.
Chris ignored them, accustomed to this reaction from people and grabbed a paper as well as more cheroot before stepping out onto the boardwalk once more. He glanced across the street at the store and saw that Mary had yet to emerge. He let his gaze sweep across the immediate terrain and saw something that leapt out of at him almost as soon as he cast his eye upon them. While the rest of the community went about their business, the two men who were sitting outside the doors of the nearby saloon quickly averted their gaze when they made eye contact.
He stared at them for a moment, trying to decide who they were. Before Four Corners, he had been the scourge of the Territory shooting men left right and centre for the simple sin of pissing him off, he wondered if these were any of those past acquaintances. The men talked among themselves, attempting to appear harmless as they tried hard not to raise his attention once more. Chris slipped the paper under his arm and lit his cheroot as he stepped onto the street, pretending that his interest had passed but keeping them in his line of sight to know that they were watching him.
Their eyes followed him across the street as he returned to the boardwalk in front of the store and sat down. He pulled the pages of his newspaper open and began reading, puffing away at the same time, tendrils of smoke rising over the edge of the paper and waited.
He did not have long to wait because he was sure they were going to approach him. He heard their footsteps and glanced over his shoulder and saw Mary was now talking to a shop assistant and oblivious to the drama unfolding outside. He heard their footsteps crunching against the gravel over the ground even though with the number of people on the street, it could be anyone. He did not know how he was so certain of who was approaching him, only that he did.
"Larabee." A voice spoke.
Chris did not lower his paper but answered smoothly. "Do something for you boys?"
"I think you need to take a walk with us." The taller of the two replied. Although he could not see them clearly, he could tell where they were standing and was able to distinguish their movements through the thin fibre of his newspaper.
"Why would I want to do that?." Chris replied almost breezily as if he could not care less that this men did not look as if their request was made lightly.
"Cause you wouldn't want all these innocent people to get hurt." The shorter of the two replied, ending the statement with a slight snigger that did nothing but irritate Chris to no end. He was one of those that shooting down dead would be a public service.
"They're not going to get hurt anyway." The gunslinger answered indifferently, shifting position so slightly that it was unnoticeable to the two men standing between him and his paper. "I'm sorry boys, I've got prior engagements."
"Well I'm betting you're going to be missing it." The taller one declared boldly and started the familiar movement towards the gun in his holster when he was suddenly halted by the audible click of a gun hammer being pulled back as a trigger was depressed.
When they were aware of their situation, Chris rose to his feet slowly, lowering the paper and facing the two would be assailants and replied coolly. "Maybe a walk would be nice." He grinned with a predatory smile. "Drop your guns first though." He ordered and then added with a sharp voice that broke no argument. "Now."
Reluctantly, both men unbuckled the their guns belts and let the weapons fall on the ground. No doubt the little one would undoubtedly have something else stashed elsewhere, his type always did, but Chris had enough of an advantage to ensure that even if he did have a weapon stashed elsewhere he would never have the chance to use it. The bored husbands around them had seen the exchange and quickly moved a discreet distance away to keep from getting caught in just another one more of those gunfights that was just a fact of life in the Territory, even in a town as large as Sweet Water.
Chris was glad. By no means at all, did he want a shootout to take place in front of a store full of pregnant women buying baby clothes, particularly when one of those women was Mary. "Kick them away." He responded once the gun belts had hit the dirt.
Cursing softly, the two men did as ordered, kicking dust and dirt in the air as they sent their weapons out of reach and lay completely at the mercy of this black garbed gunslinger with a gun to their belly. Mayborn contemplated rushing Larabee and then remembered that he was reputedly fast enough to but a bullet in both one of them before they could reach him to be of any threat. "Now what?" He asked, the question and surrender tasted bitter in his mouth.
"Turn around," Chris answered, still wearing that damned expression that nothing could faze him. "Slowly."
Having no choice but to obey, both men swallowed thickly before turning around to start walking.
"Where are you taking us?" Mayborn demanded as they were marched up the street, with Chris' gun aimed firmly at their backs.
"Who told you could ask questions?" Chris drawled. In truth, he had no wish to open fire and while he might have sound unmindful of the people around him earlier, he was very concerned about his welfare. "Just keep walking up the street or else I might be inclined to take exception with why you bothering me."
"You low down coward," Mayborn hissed. "You're gonna shoot us in the back."
Chris hardened, not liking to be accused of such a cowardly attack but he held his temper in check aware that the man was attempting to provoke him into doing something stupid. That tactic had been tried by better men that this kid and had failed. "If I was gonna shoot you at all, I'd done it back there."
"What you gonna do with us?" The smaller one who was so quick to snigger had no such contempt in his voice as he made the plea. In fact, he sounded terrified and Chris was unsurprised because men like this were the real cowards, who would put a bullet in your back, or knife while you slept. Chris had no patience for creatures like this and there was a time, he would have killed the man for just being what he was. However, those days were long past.
"Well I have business in town," Chris answered after a moment, once the sheriff's office came into view. "Normally if I had the time, I'd be liable to put a couple of good sized holes into you two but since I can't, I thought I might just leave you in the hands of a friend of mine.'
As they approached the large building that was Sweet Water's jailhouse, his prisoner's eyes widened with understanding. Chris and the Sheriff of Sweet Water were well acquainted after nearly three years of his playing lawman to Four Corners. Sheriff Anderson was a good man and he had turned a blind eye to Vin's fugitive state because he had a healthy respect for what the seven did in the small town and how they had been an improvement to the prosperity of Four Corners. Thus Chris knew that Anderson would not mind doing him a little favour by taking care of these two men for the duration of his stay in Sweet Water.
"You're turning us in?" Mayborn looked over his shoulder long enough to give Chris a scathing glare.
"Well I'm gonna leave you with the Sheriff for awhile until I'm done in town." Chris remarked, jabbing the gun in the small of Mayborn's back to tell the man that even though he was taking this course of action, it was not wise to assume mercy for complacency. "However, if I see either of you in my sights again, it will be the last time."
"You're pretty big talk for someone who has six men for you to hide behind." The man said viciously as they were forced to ascend the wooden steps that led to the jailhouse door.
Chris was aware that he was trying to find out if the others were present. They had been watching him earlier because they had been trying to discern if the rest of the seven were present and had only moved in because he had spotted them. Chris was not about to let them think any different even though they were not going to do very much about it from behind bars.
Upon entering the jailhouse, Chris made his greetings to Anderson who was more than happy to keep the duo locked up for the next day or so. Although they had not committed any crime in Sweet Water, Anderson was willing to overlook that fact as a favour to Chris Larabee who had extended the same professional courtesy during the last three years of their acquaintance. Anderson did not recognise either of the men but did remark they had ridden in only a day or so. Chris attempted to question them but neither were in the mood to talk and so the gunslinger decided that there was nothing left to do but keep an eye out for any more surprises such at his. Leaving his would be attackers in Anderson's hands, Chris left the jailhouse and returned to the store, where things had settled down to its previous tedium.
He had just started reading his paper when Mary emerged from the store with a couple of boxes in her arm. Chris immediately rolled up the newspaper and went to help her with her packages. She gave him a little kiss as they met and began distributing the purchases she had just made, oblivious to anything out of the ordinary taking place while she had been inside the store.
"I'm sorry I took as long as I did." Mary apologised as they continued down the boardwalk, to fulfil the next requirement of her shopping agenda. "I'll try to be quicker in the next place."
"Do what you gotta do." Chris said casually, not at all worried about how much time she took, since his concerns at the moment were with the two men he had encountered and what they had wanted with him. Chris did not want to worry Mary unnecessarily by telling her about them until he was sure what it is they were after. "I've got time to kill."
"If you're sure," Mary looked at him uncertainly. After all he had not been very enthused about this trip to begin with and knew that he was tolerating it because of her. With that in mind, she was not about to take advantage of it by putting him through the ordeal any longer than she had to. "I just need to pick a few other things in my list then we can head home.
"Whatever you want." He smiled faintly, even though his eyes were watching everything carefully. "I'm sure I'll find something to do."
"Did you find them?" Gunderson demanded of Quincy when the big man walked into the saloon.
He had been waiting inside of the saloon with Karlson, the last member of his gang who had been paying court to a working girl when Gunderson had discovered Larabee's presence in town. For the past two hours, they had been awaiting the return of Mayborn and Skeet. The duo who were supposed to be return during that time, to report their findings regarding their observation of Chris Larabee's movements in town as well as to confirm the presence of his men in town, had yet to appear. The allotted time had come and gone and there was still no sign of either Skeet or Mayborn. Finally, Gunderson had sent Quincy out to find them.
There had not been any news of a gunfight in town but that did not mean Larabee could not have taken out the kid and Skeet. Larabee was a stealthy bastard who was sneaky as well as he was fast. If Mayborn and Skeet were not here then Gunderson was certain they had ran into trouble. When Quincy's huge bulk lumbered through the bat wing doors, with nothing less than a stormy expression on his face, Gunderson knew that he was right to be suspicious.
"They're in jail!" Quincy glowered furiously as he reached the bar and barked an order at the barkeep, a rather slovenly looking man with a big belly and an apron that looked just as unhygienic as the rest of him.
"Jail?" Karlson, a veteran of the gang as long as Gunderson had one, looked at the man. "What are they doing there?" The man asked bewildered.
"Larabee took them in.' Quincy retorted. "Those two idiots went up to him in broad daylight and let them him get the drop on them. They had to drop their guns in the middle of the street before he marched em both to the jail house, good as you please.
Quincy who was Swede in origin, was like the natives of that country, huge and muscular. Most of the time, his formidable volume was more than enough to give his adversaries reason to pause. Although Quincy was a fair hand with a gun, he did most of his killing by wrapping those thick fingers around a victim's neck and snapping the bones beneath the skin like they were kindling. Although he was a borderline psychopath, Quincy was loyal to the men he rode with and conceived an attack upon them as an attack upon him. Larabee had unknowingly garnered the man's utmost displeasure by overcoming Skeet and Mayborn.
"You sent those two on recon?" Karlson snorted. An old army sergeant, Karlson did not have much faith in the abilities of the two in question and preferred to scout out a potential target on his own. "Those two stick out like dogs balls. Larabee would have been on em in a minute."
"He was," Quincy drawled. "Man had em drop their guns in the middle of the street."
"I told them that he was slick." Gunderson snorted unsurprised by anything that he was hearing because he had not expected very much from either Skeet and Mayborn, in particular Skeet who would turn tail and run at the first sight of trouble.
"Let's see how slick he is," Quincy's blue eyes blazed as he downed the content of his glass in one loud gulp. "When I get through with him."
"Just don't you kill him," Gunderson replied, facing the bar once again. "You better leave some for me."
"I'll leave some for you alright," the huge Swede started walking away from the counter. " In big pieces for you to chew and spit out on when I'm done."
With that, he strode out of the room, causing anyone in his path to get out of the way, lest they angered the bear of a man whose temperament was as dangerous as he appeared to be, if he got it in his mind to take offence. Once he had gone, Karlson turned to Gunderson. Karlson had ridden with Gunderson the longest and was present at the incident had caused that sizeable scar that had been the constant reminder of Gunderson's shame for the last four years. Karlson knew the gunfighter's reputation well enough to know that it was never wise to tackle Chris Larabee without a plan or a cool head for that matter.
"You think Quincy might take him?" Karlson inquired nervously.
"He might." Gunderson answered but he did not appear very hopeful or concerned for that matter. "If he doesn't then at least he would have softened up Larabee for me."
Karlson did not respond to that but thought silently that Quincy would have to soften Larabee a lot for Gunderson to be any match for the gunslinger.
"Chris, isn't this lovely?" Mary asked as she looked at the crib of polished wood on the showroom floor of Sweet Water's largest furniture shop.
To Chris, it looked more or less the same as every other crib that was on display however, he supposed only a woman could spot the differences that distinguished one piece from another. Besides cribs, there was a litany of gaily coloured furniture earmarked for toddlers scattered around the place with hopeful parents perusing the selection with as much ardent interest as himself and Mary. Well Mary at least. Chris was of the opinion that he could build something sturdier and was not that impressed by this contraption that looked as if it was put together by monkey and appeared too fragile for the important bundle it was supposed to support in slumber.
Of course, it was altogether possible that he was biased because he had built Adam's crib and also because his attention was not so much focussed on baby furniture but rather what was going on outside the store. As of yet, he been unable to recall who the two men were that had come after him, even though he had searched his memory carefully for some evidence as to their identity. It was certainly no one he recalled meeting in recent memory although enemies seemed to fester over a great period of time. When Top Hat Bob had come after him, Chris could not even remember who the man had been to him to have incurred his wrath. However, that did not alter the fact that Bob still wanted his revenge. Perhaps the two men who had attempted to ambush him were of the same ilk.
"Its nice." He said indifferently, not caring one way or another which one she picked as long as she was happy with it. Chris supposed he ought to be grateful that none of the seven were here. He did not even want to imagine the sheer hell he would have to endure for the next ten thousand years if either Vin, Buck or Ezra saw him in here, picking baby furniture, not to mention the men who were out to kill him. As it was, all the other parents in the store were respectable looking and appeared like honest, Christian folk while he appeared as if he had no business being anywhere near a baby with his intense gaze and the scowl that remained just below the surface of his features.
Mary let out a sigh, aware that he was here only in body while his spirit was wishing to be anywhere else. She felt a surge of affection, knowing that he was enduring this only for her and decided to make the choice on her own since it would be more painless that way. She continued up the aisle, aware that the other people in the establishment were staring at her with puzzlement, wondering what a proper woman such as herself was in the company of such a...bad element. Mary could not help smile when the thought crossed her mind.
"You want to go to the saloon for awhile?" She asked.
"Why?" He met her gaze at her puzzled.
"Cause you're bored out of your mind." Mary replied looking at him with a knowing expression on her face that indicated that anything he said to her reflecting the contrary would not be believed.
"I'm good." He answered shortly, not about to go anywhere and leave her alone.
"Are you sure?" Mary questioned once more, loving him deeply for putting up with her feminine demands. "You've convinced me that this is woman's work. I've never seen you so out of place in my life. You have made me feel properly guilty for dragging you on this trip. I will never again ask you. You have my solemn promise."
"Mary," Chris looked at her. "You're my wife, I've handled worse things than taking you shopping. Holding Buck's head down after that hangover in Purgatorio comes to mind, rescuing Ezra from that Indian squaw who picked him for her mate and not to forget keeping Josiah from killing Vin after one of his dumb practical jokes."
"True," Mary laughed. "That boy has discovered a world of possibility since becoming engaged to a doctor with a wealth of strange concoctions, particularly diuretics."
Chris chuckled in agreement. "I'm okay," he replied, not wishing to tell her that his reasons for remaining were not just to do with undertaking his husbandly duties. With the possibility of danger from unknown threats, Chris was not leaving her alone. It seemed that she was always falling into the hands of his enemies whenever he was not around. This time, he was not taking any chances.
However, no sooner than he had made a declaration, he saw a rather large man peering through the window. Judging by the looks of him, Chris was certain that this was not a man who was interested in furniture for a house or a baby. Besides the fact that the man was enormous, his gaze rested on Chris and upon doing so narrowed his eyes in calculation. Hiding all expression on his face, Chris winced inwardly because the stranger now knew he was in Sweet Water with a woman and that woman might be the way to get to him.
"You go on and buy what you like." He answered kissing her lightly on the nose. "I'm going outside for a smoke." He said warmly, showing nothing of the danger awaiting him outside as he pulled away from her.
"Okay," Mary smiled none the wiser as he departed.
Chris strode casually down the main aisle of the showroom, making a beeline for the nearest exit to confront his latest assailant. Stepping out onto the boardwalk, his gaze swept across the street and saw that man had disappeared from sight. How a giant that size could simply vanish was beyond Chris but the gunslinger was far too suspicious to believe the man had gone very far. Deciding to look around a little more closely, he continued up the wooden path that lead up and down Sweet Water, in the hopes of finding him again.
He had no sooner cleared the front face of the furniture shop and was passing in between the narrow crack between that building and another when an arm the size of a tree trunk reached out and dragged him into the shadows with surprising speed. Chris was flung against the wall and felt his head swim a little when the back of his skull slammed onto the brick. He barely had a chance to recover when he saw a huge fist coming directly for his face. Instinctively, with faster reflexes than his attacker, Chris moved out of the way, narrowly avoiding being hit.
"Stand still Larabee," a deep voice growled a warning as the fist pulled back in time. "It will make this hurt a lot less."
The voice of course, came from the behemoth that had been watching him earlier and was of no surprise to Chris. Chris backed away from the man who towered against him, quickly thinking up his strategy for attack. Overpowering his attacker was not an option. He simply did not have the physical bulk or the strength however; Chris had no trouble believing he could beat him.
A massive arm, thick and powerful reached for Chris with surprising speed, kick starting their battle into full momentum. Chris dropped to his feet and delivered a sharp kick to the man's knees. He bellowed with rage as his leg gave way and his knee slammed against the ground. He had expected Chris to not put up much a fight. However, Chris was perfectly aware that despite his strength, the man's bulk limited the speed by which he could move. He raised both arms and lunged at the space Chris was occupying. Chris stepped out of reach easily and delivered another powerful kick to his mid torso. His attacker staggered back in pain and left enough of an opening for Chris to make another hit. The gunslinger advanced far enough to throw a fist into his Neanderthal like skull, careful to avoid getting too close in case the man chose to retaliate faster than Chris gave him credit. He focussed control strength into the punch, making certain it was not some wild blow that would disperse energy or the effect.
This man had to be taken down hard and fast.
Rage was starting to overcome Quincy and Larabee's blow served to provoke his fury and allow him to take the punch with almost no effect. He shook it off the pain and lunged forward like a bear, rumbling forward until all Larabee could do to escape his clutches was to leap out of his way. The gunslinger rolled out of the way as Quincy propelled himself forward almost running into the wall.
Chris knew that the angrier his assailant became, the more adrenlin would keep him going and Chris could not afford that. Before the man had time to do anything else, Chris threw a powerful sidekick into the man's kidney. He dropped to his knees, crying out in pain and although Chris had some moral objections about fighting that way, he knew it would have to take a back seat to survival. Besides, there was a world of difference between shooting a man in the back and engaging him in hand to hand combat. Not allowing it any time to recover, Chris threw another kick into his side in the same place, further incapacitating him and flipping him on his back from the force of the blow. Amazingly enough, he somehow managed to stand up, although it appeared he was still rather disorientated. Chris did not doubt that he would quickly return to his manic rage if he did not act quickly.
Chris rammed his fist into the side of the man's head, once again applying a focussed blow. While his attacker appeared unable to retaliate, Chris had no choice but to continue. The giant could snap his bones like kindling if Chris allowed him the chance. His punches could not be pulled and they had to be fast to keep the man from using the pause in between to recover. Chris ignored the rising pain in his limbs as he struck blow after blow. He felt his knuckles connect but the point soon arrived when the pain faded away. It disappeared to a distant place in his mind, just as forgotten as the ache in his body and any moral dilemma that still remained that there was no reason to reduce this man to pulp.
No longer holding back, Chris felt a rush of adrenalin of his own surging through his veins as he threw a rapid succession of punches. Chris felt the blood rushing to his head as blow after blow was delivered, until he could feel nothing except the determination to stop this man who had dared to intrude upon him and Mary. Apart of him refused to allow anything to taint her day. Mary had wanted nothing more than to indulge herself in the joy of impending motherhood and Chris was allowing no one to take that way from her.
Suddenly, he realised his opponent was no longer fighting. Chris blinked as the red veil lifted over his eyes and disappeared into the exhaustion that had finally come for him and the man completely unconscious. Chris stepped away and let out a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow as he wondered what else this day was going to throw at him. Like the previous two before him, Chris did not recognise this assailant any more than he had the others. However, Chris had more immediate problems to deal with other than the identity of the comatose man. Reaching for the belt around his thick waist, Chris removed it and bound his large hands together before dragging the man to his feet, which was not at all and easy task since the man weighed the approximate tonnage of a buffalo.
Dropping him inside the cell with Sheriff Anderson's aid, Chris decided he needed a drink after expending so much energy and took a deep breath as Anderson slammed the cell door hard behind the still groggy man, who had no idea where he was at the time.
"You think you'll be coming back with any more guests Larabee?" Anderson asked almost amused.
"Day's still young," Chris retorted as he started towards the door, remembering he had to get back to Mary. "And my wife hasn't even bought a bassinette yet."
Mary was at the register with her selection for a crib when Chris returned to the store and found her. She appeared as if she had not missed him at all and Chris wondered if must be nice to live in the world she did where she had no suspicion at what had been taking place around her while she conducted her shopping spree. Chris could not say that he was not grateful for that because he wanted her to enjoy her day, without having to worry about all the trouble that seemed to find them. Well actually trouble usually found him first and then made its way to her.
"Hey, that looks good." He said approving of her choice, knowing the gesture would mean more to her than anything else. The crib was made of polished wood and while Chris was adamant that he could have fashioned better himself with a good piece of maple or pine, he had to begrudgingly admit that if they were reduced to store bought, he could live with her choice.
"You think so?" She asked, hoping he did so mean it and was not just saying that for her benefit. "I thought I'd pick something that could be for either a boy or girl."
"I don't think he or she is really going to notice." Chris teased as she finished paying for it. Picking up the small frame of wood and paint, he waited for Mary to finish her transaction before she joined him once more.
"Much more to do?" He asked, starting to consider whether or not it was such a good idea for them to remain in Sweet Water with everything that had taken place already.
"I just have a few more things to pick up at the local apothecary for Alex and then I'm done." Mary replied. "We should get going anyway if we want to get home before it gets too dark. Besides, I don't want to leave Billy alone too much."
"All right," Chris nodded in agreement. "Best get to it then," he answered. However, he did not add that his agreement had more to do with getting her back to Four Corners, where she would be protected by the seven while he devoted more time to the question of the three men presently languishing inside the jailhouse.
"Never know what's gonna turn up next." He remarked as they walked out of the room.
"You're not gonna believe this." Karlson looked at Gunderson with disbelief.
Gunderson did not need to hear it. The astonished expression on his old friend's face was all the telling he needed to know that Quincy had failed. Deciding that the time had come to get things done himself, since it look like none of his companions were up to the task of meeting Chris Larabee without getting their asses handed to them on a platter, the outlaw turned away from the counter and started towards the door.
"Let me guess, he took down Quince right?" Gunderson growled as Karlson fell into stride with him.
"Not only did he take him down, half the town saw him dragging Quince to the sheriff after beating the crap out of him." Karlson exclaimed, starting to question whether or not it was prudent to go after Larabee, no matter how much Gunderson wanted his vengeance.
"Damn Swede." Gunderson muttered as he burst through the bat wing doors and emerged into the sunlight. At that moment, the outlaw realised just how much he had been drinking by the powerful glare of sunshine that poured through his eyes and made him flinch at its brightness. It took a few minutes for the spots to dissipate before he could remember what he had been trying to say. "I knew he was a lot of talk! Larabee's too quick to let a big oaf like Quince get a hold of him."
"That may be," Karlson agreed. "But perhaps we better think about this August."
Gunderson paused and looked over his shoulder at the friend who had yet to catch up with him, reacting at the man's use of his first name. Karlson did not call him August unless he was about to put forward a suggestion he did not like. "What are you getting at, Ben?" He returned the favour as he stared into his old friend's jowled face, worn by time and drink.
"I think maybe we ought to just let it go." Karlson admitted after a moment, when the courage surfaced enough to let him say it. He appeared unusually anxious which only heightened Gunderson's annoyance.
"Let him go?" Gunderson's eyes widened in horror at the very suggestion. "After he did this to me?" He grabbed Karlson by the shirt with one hand while pointing to the scar across his forehead with his other.
"August, he's a lot tougher than he looks and he ain't as drunk as he was when he did that to you! Ain't you ever thought that if he could do that to you when he was a blind drunk as a mule, what he might do if he's sober?" Karlson countered.
"He wasn't drunk!" Gunderson cried defiantly, refusing to admit
"Of course he was!" Karlson returned. "The man was so wasted he didn't know who you were when he shot you. All he knew was you were getting in the way of the two bits he paid for Josie. Hell, he couldn't even stand up when shot you and he had bottle or Red Eye in the hand he didn't use for shooting!"
"I can take him!" Gunderson barked angrily, not about to let Larabee win again, even through the verbal taunts of his supposed friends. Dragging Karlson's face closer to his own, Gunderson hissed out loud. "Are you gonna help me or not?" He glared, waiting to see where the man stood and more than prepared to kill him if he did not get the answer he needed.
Karlson stared back and Gunderson and knew the decision he faced and the consequences he faced if he gave the wrong answer. Taking a deep breath, he nodded in answer. "All right August," he said finally conceding defeat. "You want to take him, we'll take him."
"Good," Gunderson replied, releasing him. "We'll take him all right, don't you worry about that."
Chris was nervous.
He was nervous because usually when they were reaching the end of the tunnel was usually when the ground gave way beneath them. Mary was presently inside the local apothecary, no doubt purchasing an entire plethora of strange chemicals for Alexandra Styles who used them to make her unconventional medicines. He remembered once how he had seen Alex conjure up a disgusting concoction made of bread mould that miraculously healed a severe infection one of them had suffered, claiming that it was one of the herbal remedies discovered by her father during his travels. As he paced the ground outside the establishment, waiting for his wife to appear while he took stock of the surrounding area, he hoped that things would remain calm until he got her out of town. Unfortunately, calm was usually when he became the most edgy.
This time there was good reason for it.
Chris knew they were trouble the minute he saw them appear on the street. One of them looked vaguely familiar but other than that, Chris could not identify either man. They marched up the street towards him and seeing the enemy out in the open, centred Chris' calm considerably. He stopped pacing and leaned against a post outside the apothecary, hoping that Mary took as long as she did inside these premises, as she had been everywhere else today.
Unbuttoning the flap of his holster, his hand drifted to the ivory handled peacemaker that sat nestled within, awaiting his lightning fast reflexes to bring it to life. Chris watched the duo approach and could tell that the more rotund of the two was extremely anxious and fearful for his life. The one with the scar on his forehead looked mad but his rage was unfocussed and Chris had a feeling, easily overcome if enough fear gave it incentive to dissolve. Chris remained calm, watching them closely as they neared him, oblivious to everyone else on the street.
Finally, they closed enough distance to regard each other and the combatants faced one another on the declared field of battle. Chris had not moved from the post, appearing almost at ease while the new arrivals were tense and anxious. He put the cheroot to his lips and lit it, taking a deep puff and then blowing the smoke out with languid calm, waiting for someone to speak and begin the game. Chris might have been uncertain about everything else in the field of life but this was one thing he could do well and as he aimed that high powered glare at the enemy, he could see them falter under his intense gaze.
"I've waited a long time for this Larabee." Gunderson replied. "You're not walking away from this."
Chris nodded. "Mind telling me what 'this' happens to be?"
Gundersons' eyes widened, realising Chris had no idea what he was talking about. "You ain't getting out this that easily. You ain't playing dumb!"
"I don't play dumb." Chris answered smoothly. "Do you?"
"You're smart talking ain't gonna get you out of this." Gunderson went for his guns and found himself staring down the barrel of a peacemaker that had moved so fast, he did not even notice it until he saw the sunlight gleaming off the barrel. Chris had been provoked him, making him careless, distracting the other with their talk and giving him the opportunity to go for his gun with a narrow margin of time to aim first.
"I don't know who you are." Chris said firmly, his finger poised over the gun that was staring at both Gunderson and Karlson, who were staring open mouthed at the peacemaker, while they had yet to reach their own guns, let alone allow their fingers tips to reach the butt to draw. "I do know that I don't fancy on killing you unless you give me a reason too."
"You did this!" Gunderson flared in frustration and rage. He pointed to the wound on his head. "You're the one!"
Chris could not recall the man, nor could he recall the giving anyone that injury. "When?" He asked genuinely curious as to the answer.
"Vesta City, four years ago!" The outlaw growled, spittle flying out of his mouth as he spat out the words angrily.
"Vesta City?" Chris considered that information and then suddenly, he felt a key snap open in his mind and the answer tumbled out and brought a smile to it when he remembered.
"You're right," Chris said after a moment. "I do remember you. You had a girl named...Posie or something?"
"Her name was Josie!" Gunderson roared, images of red hair and full lips coming to mind. "You stole her from me."
"No." Chris shook his head. "I didn't steal her from you. Back then, I was too drunk to steal anyone's woman, let alone get into a fight over a saloon girl. However," Chris regarded Karlson with a smile. "I do remember your friend was mighty comfortable with the lady and if I recall correctly, the going rate was two bits wasn't it?"
Gunderson turned to Karlson, suspicion bleeding into his face. "What's he talking about Ben?"
"What I'm talking about, is that I wasn't in the room when you burst in on your lady and I sure as hell didn't try shoot you. What I did do was keep your friend over there from finishing the job when he missed. I happened to be passing by when I saw the door open and I've got this little thing about letting one man a bullet in another when he's faced down on his belly." Chris answered with look of triumph on his face as Karlson's went white. There was no doubt for either Chris or Gunderson that Chris' story was the truth.
"You told me that Larabee was the one who shot me!" Gunderson shouted, suddenly realising that he had been duped all this time. Karlson's expression was more or less proof of Chris allegation. Of course Karlson would shift the blame on someone else because he knew how Gunderson reacted to anyone touching Josie. And Josie would not want Karlson killed if he was her lover so naturally she would corroborate Karlson's story that Chris Larabee had been responsible.
"Now August..." Karlson started to stammer.
"Explain yourself Ben." Gunderson hissed.
Mary emerged from the shop to see Chris watching the undertaker removing one body while the sheriff was carting away a man with an odd scar on his forehead. While she had been inside the establishment, she had heard some commotion but had waited until she had all her purchases before coming out to investigate. Besides, Chris would let her know if it was anything to worry about, if he were not caught in the middle of it. However, he was exactly where she had left him, leaning against the wooden column under the front awning of the building, watching the proceedings with passing interest.
"What happened?" Mary asked as she surveyed the scene of what was obviously a gunfight.
"Two outlaws, fighting over a woman I think." Chris drawled, hands in his pocket with a look of complete innocence on his face. "One shot the other, you know the story."
"How awful," Mary watched the crowd dissipating. "Well I'm glad no one else got caught in the cross fire."
"Yeah," Chris agreed, refusing to add anything further. "You done?" He asked as he liberated her of some of her parcels.
"Yes, that's the last of it." Mary replied, glad to have the help but still hung onto one parcel because she hated to make him do everything. After all, he had been so patient as it was.
"Good," Chris answered as they started walking towards the livery. "We should head back to Four Corners," he remarked glancing at the sky. "Its gonna be dark in a couple of hours."
"Of course," Mary said linking her free arm through his. "Chris, I want to thank you for putting up with me today. I know you did not want to come in the first place and it must have been terribly dull for you just waiting around for me all day." With that, she planted a warm kiss on his lips in a gesture of gratitude and affection.
Chris looked at her with a completely straight face and responded. "Don't worry, I managed to keep busy."