Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
There are some men who spend entire their lives searching a stretch of beach somewhere inside themselves, sifting through the tiny grains of sand in the hopes that it might reveal to them the secrets of their destiny. Such expeditions usually produce questionable outcomes that satisfy little and expended so much time that a life had come and gone before one realised the path taken was the one that should have been ignored. There are men who spend their lives mourning the choices they have made, lamenting their wasted youth in the twilight of their brief existence, always envying and to a certain hating those whom fortune had smiled upon by the gamble they dared to take.
And then there were those for whom there was never a question about what if but rather the when.
For these fortunate souls, rare and precious as they should be, there was no debate, no question about what was required of life, just this insatiable need that would not be satisfied, that often bordered on obsession and usually marked genius in one shape or another. For them, what they were, what they are and ever will be was an open book with no surprises, just the star by which they navigated throughout their entire lives. It is no underestimation of good fortune to know what it is one desired above all else and if coupled with the drive to achieve it, then luck found such combinations irresistible.
JD Dunne was one of these.
Although JD did was unaware of it, his greatest gift was something he would not have guessed if the question had ever been put to him. While he could ride a horse better than any other member of the seven and kept a glint in his eyes that saw the world as a place of potential unlike his older companions had a more jaded view of things, it was none of these that set him apart. The answer if he had been told would have astonished with incredulity because the simplicity of it would be too much for him to accept. JD Dunne would find it hard pressed to believe that what made him so special was the simple fact that he knew exactly what he wanted in his life and was never afraid to go out and get it, no matter how outlandish or crazed the idea might be.
JD would have put this down to the impetuousness of youth. He knew that he had a temper, not to mention the brash lack of patience that came with being of the belief that one was invulnerable in one's youth. He was just turned twenty and though he had seen much in his three years in Four Corners, more than any man his age should he sometimes thought, JD still felt young. He wanted to feel young for as long as he could because he knew all too well what it was like to let the world get to you and he was never going to let that happen. He knew what he had wanted from the day he was old enough to read words and understand that where he was, was not the be all and end all of his universe.
His mother taught him and he did dream so well.
He dreamed of wild, rolling plains, of tumble weeds and rattlesnakes hissing through a parched terrain with only the wet, amber sun in the background of the sky, painting the whole world in hues of gold. He dreamt of being that most invincible of men, the gunslinger, who roamed the world like a rolling stone, beholding to none, caring only for the next town that came along. A gunslinger did not have to worry about people making fun of him, or worry that there was no father in his life. He did not even have to care about being dirt poor or having to watch the beautiful woman that was his mother become old and worn, exhausted from washing too many sheets, always mending, darning, cooking sapping her life away a bit at a time in front of his eyes.
He dreamed so much of it and yet he could not leave her. If one thing kept him from running away to the train station he knew was only a few miles down the road, the one which the students of the fancy school his mother was housekeeper to, used to escape during the holidays, it was her. He loved her more than anything in the world and she was worth loving. She worked hard to give him everything and wept when she couldn't. She had seen it he knew his lessons and she made certain that he was always even though it was hard sometimes when they were surrounded by the opulence of a world they would never be a part of.
JD remembering sitting at the window of his small room, straining to listen for the sound of the train's loud bellow as it began to pull out of the station, wondering whether he could be strong enough to escape through the window and journey with it to parts unknown. These occasions usually followed some incident where the others who resided at that fancy school reminded him that he was nothing. He would sit in his room, hiding the tears from his mother because he did not want to make her sad too. All the while, wishing that he could disappear into the West and show them all when he became a legend they would read about in those periodicals and dime store novels.
He knew he was going to go there someday although when that was eluded him at the time. Still, JD made sure he prepared himself for it. He learnt to ride and much to the chagrin of those boys who thought themselves better, JD found that he was not only good but truly exceptional. When he started working in the stables, he found the void that should have been filled by friends his own age, suddenly occupied by his equine charges. By the time he had been ready to leave the place, JD knew every horse in the stable and every horse knew him. He like to think they had missed him as much as he missed them when he had finally left.
When she had died, he had almost died with her.
In truth, he had seen it coming even though all the obvious signs were something he tried his hardest not see until it was too late. The shortness of breath, the gnarled fingers from mending so many clothes and hanging to many wet things in the middle of the icy winters, all of it finally culminated in about of fever and exhaustion which took her. JD thought that there was possibly a more medically fit description for what had ailed his mother but he did not need to know. When she had gone, he had almost been in a stupor of disbelief. She had been there all of his life and suddenly, he was more alone then he had ever been and that scared him even more than going on without her.
For a day or two after the funeral, he kept himself locked up in the small house he had grown up in until the school authorities had to inform him that he would have to make alternate arrangements soon. A new housekeeper would be needed for the school and she needed to have lodgings. JD did not think they were being unkind but it was the reality of the situation he faced and after the old Dean had left, JD remained seated in that empty house thinking on the words.
She had not left him much, just what she had managed to scrimp over the years but it was enough for him to finally buy that train ticket and make his long awaited journey to the west. For JD there was never any question about what road to take once he left this one behind. In all the uncertainty that lay ahead, that was the only thing he could be utterly assured of. He was going West and he was going to be a gunslinger, just like the ones he read about in the books that inspired his imagination so.
Of course, fiction hardly ever held a candle to fact. JD learnt upon arriving in the harsh realm of the Territory, that it took quite a bit to survive there. If it had not been for the six men (who after much persuasion) had taken him under their wing, he might not have survived a week let alone the past three years. However, taken him in they had and JD suspected that they all something in him that they recognized in themselves long ago before the world and age had changed them so. JD did not care what their reasons were, comforted by the knowledge that even though his mother was gone, he would never be alone again. Some men searched a life time to find themselves and JD knew he had been fortunate enough to know what he wanted and dared to reach for it because the dream was nowhere as sweet as the reality.
On the morning after the day they had brought in those responsible for the stage coach robberies and murders, JD found himself within the confines of the Four Corners jail where what was left of the gang were presently being held. Although Vin Tanner had been the one to initially bring up the similarities between these stage coach robberies and the ones he had opportunity to play tracker for the law in Arkansas, Chris Larabee was not so certain. The others had learnt to trust Chris' instincts during the past three years, enough to know that when he had reason to be bothered about something it was usually worth the investigation.
JD watched with a held breath as Chris approached the man in the cell who had been the plant in the stagecoach. Although he had not taken active part in the hijacking of the stage itself, there was no doubt that he was leader among the group that was currently within the confines of their jailhouse. The gunslinger approached the man who had yet to offer his name like a predator sizing up a potential meal and as Chris paced up and down the length of the cell, preparing to enter but lingering just enough to make his prey sweat. The Larabee gaze occasionally brushed up against the man and the others could see him shudder.
JD could not deny feeling awe whenever he saw Chris Larabee at his best.
It was no exaggeration to admit that he worshipped Chris in his own way. In the beginning it had been so hard to see Chris as a man because he epitomized everything JD had wanted to be when he had first come out West. Chris was what he dreamed about being when he imagined his fantasies about running away from home to become a rough and hardened gunfighter. It had taken a long time for Chris to descend from that vaunted perception in JD's eyes but he had when the young man learnt what it had cost Chris to be the way he was. In all his dreams, JD could not imagine any thing worth the price of losing a wife and son the way Chris had lost his and in understanding that, realized than men who became as Chris had, usually did so at great cost.
Even though the key to the cell had been in his hands, Chris had not make any move to the barred door. If anything, he seemed to be in deep, contemplative thought as the time stretched and they started wondering he would ever enter the room at all. The man he was meant to interrogate was feeling similar bouts of anxiety himself. As he waited for the gunslinger with the hard eyes to begin his fruitless bid for information. Fruitless in his considered opinion because he intended to reveal nothing to the man no matter how imposing his gaze appeared to be.
JD knew that Chris Larabee was seldom caught unawares and if he was taking his time, then there was a good reason for it. JD had more faith in that one fact than any other in the whole wide world and he almost smiled because the man he was about to interrogate had no idea what he was in for. After what seemed an eternity of time, the sound of jingling keys were heard and Chris finally slot the length of steel into its lock and twisted the door open. The mechanism sounded with that distinctive metal click before Chris pushed its bars forward.
"If you think you're making me talk, you gotta another thing coming Mister." The man responded curtly as Chris entered the cell and pulled himself a chair in order to sit down.
"That's up to you Kitson." Chris replied, allowing that piece of information to slip.
The man name Kitson reacted almost immediately. He had been adamant about not providing his name ever since he had been incarcerated even though his companions had offered theirs voluntarily, perhaps doing so in order to lessen the already hefty charges against them. The seven had accepted the information readily enough, although there was nothing in any of the lawmen's considered opinion that could save any of these outlaws from a hanging. Murder was not a charge easily wiped clean, especially the ones as callous as these. While Kitson had been reluctant to talk, the same could not be said for his companions and what they hell to tell the seven gave Chris enough suspicion to believe that there was more going on here than simple robberies.
The gunslinger knew that if there was indeed some deeper design to the stage coach robberies that had plagued the locality of late, it was mostly because of Kitson. The others with him seemed dime a dozen outlaws one could find in every seedy hole in the West. They were the staple of any bad western novel, unkempt, uneducated and caring for nothing but the amount of money that would see them in guns, bullets, liquor and whores. Kitson however, did not have that dog-eyed look of wandering. There as purpose in his eyes, even though one could not imagine what it was. While the others in his party were dusty, dirt covered, hombres that epitomized the ruggedness of the West, Kitson was tidy and groomed.
If Chris did not know better, he could almost be tempted to guess that Kitson might have been ex-army.
His accent and mannerism indicated that in the last war, if Chris' suspicions were correct, would have seen his affiliations aligned to the south. The way in which he regarded Nathan was clear indication that he took great exception to this black man who was on the other side of the bars he now found himself. Although he said nothing to give himself away, Chris could tell but the glint of hatred in his eyes whenever he happened to cast his direction in the view of the healer. Kitson did not appear to be a man who would take to robbing coaches. In fact, if anything the man looked like he was someone with a cause behind him.
Such men bore watching.
When Chris had extracted the man's name, for he would give his comrades no other for them to reveal to the law, the gunslinger had applied to his father for assistance on the hunch that Kitson might be ex military. Chris' instinct was rewarded when the General sent a telegram informing the lawmen of Four Corners that Kitson was once more appropriately known as Lieutenant Beauregard Kitson of the Confederate Army. Somehow, Chris could not see a man of this stature being reduced to murdering innocents on a civilian coach line. Something about this entire situation reeked of conspiracy but Chris could not even begin to conceive of how.
In the present, JD saw Kitson flinching to the disclosure of his name and wondered what was it about his identity being revealed even in that minute way that gave him such concern? Kitson was not an unusual name, it did not stick out and there were a hundred men with the same appellation scattered throughout the Territory, why worry so much and go to such lengths to keep his identity a secret? JD brushed away such thoughts and focussed on Chris who was satisfied enough with the response that he moved in for the kill.
"It wasn't hard to find out your name, Kitson." Chris continued, looking smug indeed as he continue to stare at Kitson with that hard gaze.
"Yes," Ezra Standish added. "Your companions are hardly men of honor. With the proper inducements, they were singing to Mr Larabee like nightingales."
A small titter of laughter rumbled through the room and JD admitted to chuckling himself. No one was capable of making any one feel more infuriated than Ezra Standish. The gambler had the incredible ability to spout forth erudite words the way some men breathed and still be insulting with the target of his venom none the wiser. The effect of his barbs had the desired effect and JD could see Kitson bubble with annoyance, which only made it easier for Chris to get the truth from him.
"So you know my name," Kitson spat viciously, anger clearly reflected in his eyes as he glared at Chris. "So what? It isn't gonna do you any good. There are a hundred men around here called Kitson, knowing my name don't mean squat."
Chris noticed that he tried hard to maintained the persona of the uneducated hick even though every now and then his grammar and elocution would improve until he remembered himself and reverted back to the façade he was attempting to display. "There are a hundred men around called Kitson but apparently only one named Beauregarde Kitson. You're a good ol' southern body ain't you Beau? You were at Gettysburg and at Atlanta. Hard to believe a man who fought so hard to protect his way of life is suddenly going to take to robbing stages."
"Believe what you want," Kitson said sourly, liking it even less that Chris knew so much about him, particularly his military record. "I've been doing it a long time. This ain't the first stage I've done; this won't be the last. In Arkansas...."
"You weren't in Arkansas." Vin Tanner spoke up; his too soft voice slicing through air like it was butter, cutting Kitson short abruptly. "I was there and I knew when those robberies happened and you pard were nowhere in sight."
"You can't be sure of that." Kitson retorted, his eyes narrowing in calculation as he attempted to think of more reinforcing facts to support his story.
"At the time that those stages were being robbed, you were reported being seen in Georgia." Chris continued. "You weren't nowhere near those stagecoaches when they were being robbed. So you want to cut the bullshit and let us in on why you chose to murder all these people and make it look like a crime someone else committed?"
"Go to hell." Kitson hissed. "I don't gotta tell you nothing!"
"No you don't," Chris nodded. "You can keep it all to yourself Beauregard, right to the grave."
"Which," Ezra added making an exaggerated show of removing a pocket watch from his coat and studying it carefully. "Will be about a day after Judge Orin Travis arrives here and sentences you to hang."
"I ain't afraid to die." Kitson remarked with a sense of purpose in his voice that immediately caught Chris' notice. "Soldiers die."
"Hate to be the one to tell you," Buck Wilmington remarked cockily, "you ain't a soldier any more and it weren't not war you were fighting. It was plain and simple murder. You killed a whole lot of people who did nothing to you."
"Including," Vin said with more venom in his voice then was common to the tracker. "A United States Marshall on his way to his daughter's wedding. Hanging you will be the least of your problems. You want to pray that none of the folk in this town or his kin get it into their minds to lynch you. You won't be going out like no solider, I promise you that."
"You can go to hell!" Kitson shouted, unable to keep the litany of words regarding his ominous fate from affecting him on some level. He glared back at them through the bars of his cell with hate filled eyes determined to win some measure of dignity even though in this place, with his fate reaching nearer and nearer to its conclusion, that was not hard to do. He stared at Chris, his eyes narrowing as he found the one thing that could hurt them and used it.
"You can watch me die Larabee," he hissed, his voice somewhere between a whisper and the low growl of an animal. "You can even watch me swing but you'll never know the truth. Not until it's too late. Do you hear me? Until its too goddamn late!"
"Thank you." Chris replied, a little smile forming on his face.
Kitson stared back him blankly, unable to imagine why this gunslinger would receive his venomous words with gratitude. "What?"
"I didn't know there was anything going on," Chris pushed himself off the chair he was seated. "I thought there was something strange about things the way they stood but I figured, I didn't have to have the whole story, knowing that you and boys were in jail."
"Mister," Buck started to chuckle. "If I were you, I'd start thinking yourself a fiddle, since you got played so well."
"I told you nothing!" Kitson exclaimed, determined to believe that he had not given anything away in his anger and yet like a man trying to climb up a sand bank, clawing at grains he could never really get a grasp of, he knew that he had indeed been duped.
"You told us enough." Josiah rumbled in response. "Enough for us to know that we ought to start paying closer attention. Is that not right Brother Larabee?"
Chris glanced momentarily in the direction of the former preacher and nodded slightly. "I do believe you are Josiah."
Kitson watched the gunslinger before him and felt the red haze of defeat draped a veil over his eyes. He had not known he was lunging for the man until he heard the springs of his bed creak when he jumped off it and pounding footsteps in two strides breaching the distance between them. He could not stomach failing the cause and knowing that he had been tricked, like some school child into revealing a truth was an indignity he could not endure.
"Chris!" Vin shouted and Chris turned around just in time to see Kitson coming for him.
In the bars outside, the rest of the seven leapt quickly into action even though he was in no immediate danger. For them, it was almost reflex to throw themselves into the fire the minute one of their number was in danger. It mattered little whether the danger was severe or mild; it only mattered that it existed. However, Chris knew how to take care of himself and he sidestepped Kitson attempt to tackle him bodily. The gunslinger moved out of the way as Kitson, propelled by his momentum and rage, ran straight past him and into the iron bars of the cell.
The man's skull cracked the lengths of steel with a hard slap and the crunch of bone though not quite loud enough to indicate serious injury, sent him staggering backwards, blood trailing from the split in the center of his forehead. Chris saw him tumbled to the floor and moved to help him, thinking instinctively that he was not about to let any man die in a jail cell under his cage, not when justice and a hanging would do that soon enough.
"I'll kill you!" Kitson was screaming wildly, making no sense and swinging his arms about like a man in frenzy. There was no accuracy in his attempts to strike and as the gunslinger hauled him off the floor, only to flop him back into his bed, Chris had the impression that the wallop he had taken to his head had disorientated him.
"Sweet Jesus." Buck whispered under his breath, the outburst from Kitson appearing almost animalistic. He had no doubt that the man was not only a cold-blooded murderer but somewhat insane as well.
Chris was alarmed but for an entirely different reason. Kitson was an intelligent man but he was some kind of fanatic. He was willing to take what he knew to the death and willing to strike at out at those who might uncover his secret, despite the overwhelming futility of it all. Chris withdrew from the cell, all the while hearing Kitson screaming so fiercely that the other members of his gang who until now had chosen to remain silent, were looking on in nothing less than astonishment. Chris could well understand why that was. The man they had described to him was cool and calculated, not this creature that was almost foaming at the mouth. A litany of threats assaulted Chris as he slammed the door of the cell shut. The sound clanged throughout the small jailhouse but was almost forgotten in the background of Kitson's fiery words.
"This ain't over Larabee!" Kitson screamed. "It's just beginning. You and your friends opened the door to hell and now we're coming for you! My dying won't change that cause I'll hang knowing you and your men won't be far behind me! You, your men and all your fucking whores! Before I rot in my grave, everyone who ever knew the Magnificent Seven is going to die!"
He was still screaming those words when they left him.
When the seven left the jailhouse after Kitson's display, they could not deny that there were more than just a little shaken by the vehemence of his outburst. After being mostly acquainted with the sedate and calculating side of his personality, the sudden emergence of a frenzied maniac was somewhat disconcerting and his threats thought venomous in their delivery did not belie the danger that they might be facing. Stepping out onto the street, their thoughts were still filled with Kitson's words and Chris in particular was even more somberly silent than usual.
"That man is a little crazy." Nathan was not afraid to admit it. Although he was rather concerned about the injury Kitson had delivered upon himself, the healer would not treat the man until he had calmed down a little. All that would be accomplish by his attempting to reach him prematurely would be a further scuffle that might inflict more harm than already possessed by the man.
"Unfortunately," Ezra sighed. "I do not believe he was making empty threats."
JD wished how they could tell so easily. It sounded to him that Kitson was plenty mad at Chris getting the better of him but that did not translate into the Machiavellian authenticity in his words that the others could see through so quickly. JD wondered if there was not some art to it that he was unaware of but then as Buck so often told him when he asked about such things, JD had it pegged for something that could only be learnt with age. At the moment however, he was more concerned about the threat that Kitson had made against them and the women in their lives. Instinctively, he thought about Casey his fiancée, who at this moment was doing all the mornings she needed to before he rode out to Nettie's place to take her out on their ride. The idea of any harm coming to her made his chest constrict with concern and JD wondered if experience ever made that fear dissipate.
"I don't like this." Buck spoke for the first time since they had walked out of the jailhouse. "There's something going on here." The big man's fear was not as concealed as the others, who appeared to be contemplative more than anything else. JD could appreciate that, Buck had a wife and daughter and JD did not like the idea of either Inez or Ellie Rose being in danger any more than Buck did. Ever since their marriage, JD felt like he had a family again, even though the seven were always going to feel that way to him. However, it was different with Inez who fussed over him like his ma who used to and Buck who looked after him like a.....
The word would not surface even though JD was perfectly aware of what he had wanted to say. There were some things he did not like talking about and his relationship with Buck fell into that category. Buck Wilmington had taken him under his wing from the first moment JD had been accepted as a member of the seven. While the others kept an eye on him, JD had a feeling that it was more than just concern for Buck. JD did not know exactly what it was the big man felt for him but he knew he could rely on it to keep out of trouble, trust it to help him through the difficulties of the days ahead and hold unswerving faith in its permanence in his life.
"Now there appears to be the understatement of the millennium." Ezra remarked but he looked somewhat worried, although these days it was hard to tell what perturbed Ezra more, threat to life and limb or the fact that he had two women fighting over him. Ever since her arrival, the new singer at the hotel made it very clear who had won her affections. This situation was a source of great consternation not only to Julia Pemberton whose relationship with Ezra did not allow for such intrusions but also to Ezra, who had no idea what he had done to earn the lady's unswerving interest.
Even though Ezra had tried his level best to avoid her, Diana Belladonna seemed determined to have him and while JD had to admit she was very beautiful, not even she could hold a candle to the spectacular beauty that was Julia Pemberton. While Ezra was careful indeed to give Julia no reason for jealousy, or give Diana any reason to assume that there could be something between them, the strange triangle still kept Ezra trapped.
"The man was quite disturbed." Ezra commented on Kitson's fiery behavior.
"That's putting it mildly," Nathan retorted. "I thought he was going to hurt himself again. I'd like to look at his head later if he calms down."
"Well," Vin frowned at the notion. "Make sure you ain't alone when you do. I got a bad feeling about this whole thing."
"The man sounds like a fanatic." Josiah offered after a moment. The seven were headed towards the saloon, deciding that after what they had seen in the jailhouse, they deserved a drink at least before they chose their next course of action. After what Kitson had stated so prolifically, each member of the group were certain that the man had not be lying when he said that this was not over. "The question is, what faith has got him so fired up that he's willing to die for it?'
"I don't know," Chris Larabee shook his head, speaking for the first time. "I though the might be Klan. The way he was looking at Nathan, I figured that was a safe bet. Not to mention, a lot of those Rebs ended up being Night Riders."
"Please Mr Larabee," Ezra winced as they stepped onto the boardwalk and began the last leg of their journey towards the saloon, where drinks aplenty waited for them with bated breath. "I would hate to think that all my Confederate brothers were being tarred with the same brush just because a few misanthropes have chose to terrorize the Negro population of the south wearing sheets in the night."
Nathan bristled, which was nothing unusual whenever the subject of the Ku Klux Klan was being discussed. Having remembered how virulently that plague had moved through here when his former master, Nicholas Serfonteine had come to town, it was still a tender subject to the healer. "Those Night Riders are cowards," he declared without hesitation. "If they are too afraid to show their faces when they're torturing people and burning down homes, I reckon they won't be brave enough to risk their lives for the cause. I'm sure Mr Kitson don't think much of me but I think Chris is right, I don't he's Klan."
"Okay," Buck said ready to accept that if Nathan believed since he better than any of them were able to make that judgement. "If he ain't Klan then what is he? Baptist?"
A small ripple of laughter moved through the group but it dissipated like the waves breaking up along the shore before the solemn mood fell over them again. "They were willing to kill all those people," Chris started to say, coming down to the heart of the problem. "Whatever this cause of Kitsons' is, he was willing to sacrifice all those lives, including Jamieson's for it. Why?" He asked out loud, not really expecting an answer nor did he receive on.
"He said that it wasn't over," Vin added, following the line of Chris' reasoning. "That it's only just beginning. Unless he expects to break out of here, I don't see how he's gonna manage to cause any more trouble."
"Maybe he ain't alone." JD blurted out.
All eyes turned to him and the youth swallowed thickly realizing that they were waiting for him to continue. JD thought quickly and found the words tumbling from his lips without even considering what he was saying as they did. "I figure that maybe the men who did the robberies with him on the stage were just for show, so that he'd make us think that it like those ones in Arkansas. He hitched up with them because he had to but they ain't a part of his gang, his real gang anyway."
"So wherever they are, they're safe." Josiah took JD's lead and added. "He's all fired up to play sacrificial lamb for whatever reason, so he takes the fall for this crime while they saddle up for the next one."
"Jesus." Buck grimaced. "There's no telling how many of them there could be then."
"We don't even know who them is." Chris remarked and then a thought occurred to him. If Kitson did have co-conspirators who were not the men in the jailhouse with him at present then where were they at this moment? They had to be somewhere close, where they could keep an eye on events as they unfolded in order to take the next step once their comrade was sufficiently neutralized. Hell, he thought with a sour taste forming in his mouth, they could be in town right this minute.
"They could be here already." Chris stated out loud.
"That is a point Mr Larabee," Ezra nodded in agreement, having gone down that same line of reasoning himself. If Kitson was not simply making a grand gesture of misinformation by that performance in the jailhouse earlier and there was more to all this than just a simple matter of financial gain through senseless murder, Kitson's allies would have to be close by. Logic dictated that it could not be otherwise. "I believe Mr Dunne's astute suggestion of Mr Kitson having cohorts is something we should pay considerable attention to. If they exist, they are no doubt in close proximity. I could see no other way in which they could monitor his situation." Ezra gave JD a little wink that filled the younger man with pride knowing that he was able to contribute something substantial to the conversation.
"We had any strangers in town?" Chris asked since they were on the subject.
"Yeah," Vin nodded remembering the stranger he had seen as they rode through town earlier today. Vin, who noticed everything, had seen the man and his companion eyeing them closely from the balcony of his room at the hotel. "I did. Tall fellow, dark hair, hard eyes, staying at the hotel."
"Mr Blackwood." Ezra remarked.
"How do you know that?" Vin stared at the gambler.
"One hears the gossip in the saloon during games of chance," Ezra remarked off handedly as they entered the Standish Tavern. The morning had ensured that the patronage was at a minimum which was just as well because the seven were discussing important matters and had no wish to be heard by the general public that their situation with the stagecoach robberies might not be ended. "Mr Blackwood and his companion, Mr Zimmer arrived some time yesterday, having ridden here from Eagle Bend. Our esteemed German hotel proprietor believes that the two gentlemen were from the East, with slight tendency towards a Midwestern accent."
"Why is he here?" Buck asked, since this Mr Blackwood sounded promising.
"Apparently, Mr Blackwood claims to have some interest in investing in the locality." Ezra responded smoothly.
"Well that's not entirely outside the realm of possibility," Josiah remarked. "The railroad had brought whole bunch of new settlers to these parts. With a population growth, commerce seems to grow with it. There's money to be made if one has the inclination for it."
Ezra gave the preacher a look as they gathered around their favorite table in the Standish Tavern. "Mr Sanchez, I had no idea you had such an eye for economics."
Josiah returned Ezra's expression of surprise with a smug smile. "Well, three years of putting up with you has a bad effect on a man."
"Touché," he grinned as he joined the others in casting a gaze towards Rain who was behind the bar, stock the shelves with clean glasses. She offered Nathan a smile of greeting and knew instinctively, what all of them drank. Without the seven needing to ask, the lady began filling in their orders and would bring their drinks to them soon enough.
"One of us ought to talk to him." Vin suggested. The tracker always knew when there was more to a person than what lay on the surface. If he had a knack for nothing else in his life, it was that. "Something about him doesn't seem right."
"Now come on," Nathan interjected ever the voice of reason. "We can't just go harassing people just because we think they might be suspicious."
"Nate's right, Vin." Chris replied, giving Vin a look of apology at having to take an opposing stance to his best friend's view. "We need to approach this carefully for two reason. One; he might be exactly what he says, a businessman in town looking to invest some dollars into Four Corners. Like Josiah says, the railroad has brought people here and with people, comes progress, theoretically. Second; if he does have anything to do with Kitson, then I would rather not let him know we're onto him. We need to make contact without
"What we need," Buck nestled into his seat, staring reflectively into the air as he considered their question. "Is someone who is well known in town and would have a legitimate reason for asking that doesn't have to do with the law."
"How about Mary, Chris?" JD suggested.
Chris' expression soured, not liking his wife to be involved with anything remotely dangerous even if there was not an ounce of proof to verify that Blackwell was the person they thought he was. "I suppose." He grumbled, finding himself unable to flatly deny JD's suggestion because if he could ask Julia to play a part in their plan to apprehend the stagecoach robbers, he could not very well be so hypocritical by using Mary in the same manner. In truth, he knew that it was the perfect choice. Mary, as newspaper editor and town leader, was the ideal candidate to make contact with a person who might be interested in investing in Four Corners.
"Good idea JD." Chris gave him a dark look as the others snigger, aware that the young man had placed Chris in a position he would not be able to squirm out of. It was unusual for Chris Larabee to be in such a state but despite themselves, his comrades enjoyed it immensely when someone else got the better of him.
JD smiled faintly as Buck patted him on the back, glad that he had not overstepped his bounds although for the moment, he decided that he had enough good ideas for the day.
As it turned out, there was no need for Mary to make contact with Blackwood.
After Chris had begrudgingly agreed that the best course of action in order to ascertain the reason for Mr Blackwood's presence in Four Corners was to ask Mary to introduce herself, JD had thought the matter settled. For a few minutes, he had worried whether or not he had made the wrong decision by choosing to offer that particular suggestion. After all, they were all perfectly aware of just how determined Chris could be when it came to safety. However, he knew that all was right with the gunslinger and himself when Chris leaned over to him while they were at their table in the Standish Tavern and whisper quietly that it had been a good idea.
With that note of encouragement swelling his insides like a balloon, JD had left the tavern and made his way to the livery where his horse was stabled in order to make the rendezvous he had planned with Casey. He had promised to take her riding today and intended to be on time, aware of how much she looked forward to their outings. Buck had always said that it was never right to break promises made to a lady and Ezra had reinforced that notion with his own belief that even an unscrupulous man could be a gentlemen when he afforded a lady the respect that was her due. JD knew that he loved Casey and had ever intention of spending his life with her. Ever since they had made love, he knew without doubt that he wanted her in his life forever and if that meant walking over coals for her, so be it because Casey was worth it.
Besides, it was quite an achievement that Nettie had allowed them to go anywhere alone at all, after the unceremonious way their engagement had been made. Even though JD's behavior towards Casey had been nothing but completely proper ever since their first coupling, Nettie was still suspicious of him. He supposed he could not blame the lady for her reservations. After all, she had walked in on the two of them in the middle of the most awkward of situations. Events like that tended to cloud the judgement of someone with Nettie's stature and moral fortitude rather irrevocably.
JD reveled in the beauty of the sunshine in the day outside as he walked down the boardwalk, thinking how glorious it all was. The summer had yielded a most promising morning and had earmarked the rest of the day with blue skies, with tufts of white cloud that was thin enough to ensure that there would be no rain. There was just a hint of breeze in the air to take the edge of the heat and JD hoped that Casey prepared a picnic basket because he would not mind sitting in the shade on cool grass if the time allowed for it. If anything made him grateful for leaving the East for this harsh rugged world, it was the unspoiled beauty he had seen since coming here.
There were no ugly gray buildings, covered in grime and ash from smoke stakes and machines that burned coal day and night, spewing their contaminants in the air until the whiff of burning was always in one's lungs. JD had not realised that things could be any different until he had left the city behind him and ventured out into the wide-open spaces to find out that air could really be as sweet as it was described in the books he loved so much. The departure from the East had been such an eye opening experience that JD knew as soon as he saw the wide open spaces that he would never be going back.
"Kind of young to be the town sheriff, aren't you?"
The voice came out of nowhere and captured his attention immediately, snapping him out of his daydreams back into the reality of the present.
JD shifted his gaze into a sidelong glance to see the man who was seated on the public bench outside the doors of the Four Corners bank. Most of the time, old timers who would gather together and chew the hay about the goings on in town occupied the bench. There were no signs of them today and it appeared the man who sat there in their place had been doing for quite some time, quietly observing the hustle and bustle of activity moving that was Four Corners on a morning like this. JD wondered if he was like the other visitors from the east who liked calling life in a small town a 'provincial' existence. JD's origins had allowed him to come across that prejudice more times than he could count and he wondered if the people who made such cavalier claims, knew what a sense of community those in the rural world shared that so non existence in the urban jungles of the day.
He knew immediately that the man who had spoken was Neil Blackwood around whom much discussion had been made by the seven lawmen of Four Corners earlier that morning. Even though he had never laid eyes on the man before, there were certain things about him that JD noticed, which made this fact irrefutable. Firstly, the description that Vin Tanner had offered was like all of the tracker's observations; accurate to a fault. Blackwood was a tall man with dark hair and even darker eyes. He looked hard and though a veneer of civility surrounded him, there was something about him that indicated caution was required. In that sense, JD could not help admitting that he resembled Chris Larabee a little.
Secondly, JD had never laid eyes on him before and in a small town like Four Corners, where everyone was familiar to each other, there could be only one explanation; the man was a stranger and he knew of only one stranger matching Blackwood's description.
There was something else though, something the young man could not define. For a minute, JD saw something familiar, something he knew instinctively but could understand how he knew or for that matter, what it was that he knew. He also found that when he examined that something closely, it made his heart flutter and his breath quicken as if the air around him had dwindled not nothingness. Brushing away that shudder of ill ease, JD realised the man was waiting for him to respond.
"I just wear the badge Mister." He recovered his thoughts an instant later to be able to respond to Blackwood's offhanded greeting. "I ain't really the sheriff yet. I just wear the badge. Make folks feel a little safer knowing there's some one wearing the tin star." JD explained.
"Seems to me if you're wearing the thing, you've got plans a little more definite than just keeping people comfortable," Blackwood countered as he continued to eye JD closely. He looked for all the things a father might look for in a son he had never met and saw familiarity in so many places, in the curve of the mouth, in the look of his eyes and the shape of his hands. Blackwood remembered once in his distant past, looking at his father the same way, wondering how nature could have made them so alike and yet so obliquely different.
His eyes kept JD under deep scrutiny until even JD began to notice and despite himself, the youth could not help but flinch under the man's powerful gaze.
"Maybe I do, but I can wait for it." JD confessed, deciding that there was no shame in admitting that one day he hoped to be sherrif of Four Corners when the seven had decided that they would move onto other things. With Chris, Vin and Buck becoming more involved in their horse ranching business and Ezra always claiming that one day he would be a legitimate business with no need of playing constable, that did not seem such a remote possibility. Hell, even Josiah seemed like he would settle down someday with Audrey and JD just knew that one day soon, Nathan Jackson would become a doctor.
For the moment however, JD debated whether he ought to leave Mr Blackwood behind or remain and continue their dialogue. Inwardly, he wanted to keep going because Casey was waiting for him but he also remembered what Chris had said about not tipping their hand in their efforts to find out whether or not Blackwood had any connection to Kitson. If the man was making an overture at conversation, he had given JD the perfect platform to find out the truth without involving Mary in the effort. JD knew that would please Chris to no end. Thus he made a silent apology to Casey and braced himself to make the most of the opportunity presented before him.
"Patience is good." Blackwood smiled and once again, JD felt that slight chill run beneath his skin and could not understand why. "It can get you the world."
"I don't need the world Mister," JD let his eyes sweep around the familiar surroundings of Four Corners and knew without doubt that the world was already in the palm of his hand. "I got everything I need right here."
"You're not from here are you?" Blackwood remarked, ignoring the content in that voice and was certain that the boy was not as resolute in his situation as he appeared. Young men seldom were. "You look like one of them but your accent's all wrong."
"It ain't all that different." JD retaliated immediately, feeling somewhat defensive about that. Since coming to Four Corners, he had tried hard to sound like he was from the West, wishing to erase every trace of that life back in the east, the one where he had been nothing. The only person who had made that existence worth living was gone and once he had turned his back on it, JD had done so wishing to expunge every trait that might still keep him tethered to it.
"New York?" Blackwood pretended to venture a guess. In truth, he already knew everything was to know about JD Dunne. The Pinkertons Agency had been very thorough in gathering their dossier about the young man and the detective assigned to the case even more diligent in his task. Blackwood knew exactly where JD had been born, when he had spent his childhood and even the day he had chosen to leave the east for life in the wild rugged west.
"Yeah," JD flinched uncomfortably, not wishing to discuss that part of his life. However, he kept in mind that there was purpose to enduring the man's question that involved larger issues that his discomfiture. "What about you?" He asked. "Where are you from Mister?"
"Is that an official question?" Blackwood asked, with just a hint of teasing in his voice for JD to realise that he did not take the inquiry offensively.
"No," JD shook his head. "Just curious."
Blackwood's brow raised slightly and he gave JD another long look. "Fair enough," he answered after a second later. "Just expanding my business enterprises. I've been known to take an interest in places that are just starting to come into prominence. I hear with the railroad opening up in these parts, very soon this area is going to be prime real estate. Land values are not going to stay the way they are when the boom times hit. A smart man knows when to buy."
This kind of discussion was more Ezra's cup of tea, JD thought inwardly but he had to admit Blackwood did sound like a man preparing to invest in property, not one who had a secret agenda involving murder and mayhem. Although JD was hardly confident enough to claim irrevocably that Blackwood was exactly what he appeared to be; a businessman scouring for new opportunities in Four Corners, JD did not believe him to be an associate of Mr Kitson. Still there was something about the man that left him unsettled and JD who hated any kind of mystery was finding for the first time in his life, that he was rather reluctant to pursue it.
"Well Four Corners is a nice place to be." He replied after a moment, almost offhanded in his remark. "I wouldn't live anywhere else."
"Have you been anywhere else other than this place and where you came from?" Blackwood asked with a note of challenge in his voice.
"I don't need to be anywhere else," JD returned, giving the man a look as he tried to understand why Blackwood was so interested in his life here. "I've got everything I want. My friends, my girl and maybe someday, I will be sheriff."
"Pretty small dreams for a boy." The older man commented.
JD bristled, taking exception to being called a boy. He was past twenty years of age, he was no longer a boy and if Chris Larabee considered him an adult, JD sure as hell expected others to threat him as such as well. Once again, he reminded himself that antagonizing Blackwood was not the way to get information from the man, nor did he wanted to tip their hand by letting the man become aware that he was under suspicion of undisclosed crimes.
Blackwood was able to tell quite easily that he had inspired the boy's ire by referring to him as such but considering the nature of their relationship, even if at this time JD had no idea of it, Blackwood was hard pressed to behave any other way. However, Blackwood was starting to believe by the expression on the young man's face from time to time during their conversation that he was starting to feel something of their connection, even if was vague and defined.
For his own part, he too had found himself able to brush away the final lingering strands of doubt that still remained in his mind that this boy might be his son. While much of the woman who bore him still stared back at Neil Blackwood when he looked upon JD Dunne, there was much of himself there too. No doubt, this desire to seek adventure in the wild and woolly west was probably his contribution to JD's genetic make up. Blackwood remembered what his youth had been like and shared some measure of empathy with JD's need to escape his childhood domain for something better.
"I ain't no boy." JD said with enough sharpness in his voice to reveal his annoyance at being called that.
"Don't take it so hard," Blackwood retorted, unrepentant at anything he had said and not at all prepared to apologize for it. "Come a time when you will wish you were young again."
JD seriously doubted that. "So what made you pick Four Corners?" He asked, in an effort to get the subtle interrogation moving again. "Plenty of towns around here, liable to make you money, Eagle Bend, Bitter Creek."
"I preferred something small." Blackwood answered smoothly, having been interrogated by enough lawmen in his long career to know when someone was trying to get him to talk. Blackwood was certain that the boy had probably good reason for his fishing expedition but he was not ready to disclose the full truth yet. As it was, he was perfectly content to take his time and get to know the boy a little. In truth, he had no idea whether or not he wanted to lay claim to JD Dunne who seemed quite content with his life here and was professing no desire to leave.
JD glanced at the sky and realised he had to get going. Casey was waiting for him and he was starting to believe it would take someone with a lot more know how than he possessed to get Mr Blackwood to reveal anything more than trivial snippets of information. Tipping his hat slightly, he regarded the man politely and made the move to excuse himself. "Well I gotta be on my way now, Mr.....?"
"Neil." Blackwood responded. "You got a date boy?"
There was that word again, JD smoldered inwardly. "Something like that."
"She from around here?" The older man asked.
"She works at the general store but yeah," JD nodded. "She's from here."
Why was the man so interested in him personally? JD wondered. He was not so blind that he had missed the fact that Blackwood was on something of a fishing expedition himself, except the purpose of his goal was not to find out whether or not some crime was at foot but rather anything he knew about JD himself. Was it because JD wore the badge and was considered sherrif, unofficially?
"Why you asking?" JD finally asked, not expecting a straight answer.
"Just interested." Blackwood shrugged, realizing it was time to withdraw because the young man was starting to get cautious. As it was, Blackwood could see that the boy suspected something but could not put his finger on exactly what. Pushing himself off the bench he had conducted this brief interview, the man dusted himself off and straightened his coat. He stood over JD and noticed JD taking a step backwards, almost in retreat.
"See you around Mr Dunne." Blackwood tipped his hat politely before he made the departure that JD needed in order to make his appointment with Casey.
"Likewise Neil." JD answered as he watched Blackwood walk down the boardwalk.
For a long time, he had no idea why his pulse was racing.