Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide.
The demons in his life arrived almost when his life began.
He never spoke of them and people had a tendency to guess that he did not like being asked about them. They saw him in town once in a while, riding his soot coloured gelding, with steely coloured eyes always seeing ahead but somehow aware of everything around him. At first appearance, he looked no older than twenty-one. He was tall, lean; handsome to a fault but could never be considered pretty, with a demeanour that kept people away. Those who looked into the depth of his eyes were often unsettled by what they saw. His were eyes not those belonging to a young man but to someone who had seen too much already and marked forever because of it.
They knew Chris Larabee was dangerous. They just did not know why.
Only one person in town knew him with any intimacy and that was a young farm hand at the Blesdoe Ranch. Their personalities contrasted like night and day. Buck Wilmington was loud, confident to the point of arrogance and had a reputation as ladies' man as most of the local girls could attest. When Buck was with Chris, the differences between them seemed more pronounced. However, the friendship continued and would do so for the rest of their lives.
Unlike Buck, Chris was not loud. In fact, he rarely spoke but when he did, he was always polite. He tipped his hat to the ladies and did not indulge in hard carousing. When he was not with Buck Wilmington, he was usually hidden in a darkened corner of the saloon, drinking alone. Women gossiped behind his back, intrigued by what he was. Some approached him but showed he showed little interest. In turn, men viewed him caution. Although he had yet to draw a weapon on any of them, he was believed to be a gunslinger. He just had the look about him.
Nevertheless a year after his first appearance in town, Chris still remained as much a mystery. They did not know how he earned his living but noticed he was never without money, even if his income appeared modest. Thus it was a complete surprise to the townsfolk when it became known that Chris Larabee had taken a job as a ranch hand at the sprawling Westbrook property called Haven. He never seemed the type to work on a farm, even one as large as the Westbrook homestead. However, James Westbrook was known to pay his men well. For someone who might be considering settling down, it was a good a point as any to establish more permanent roots.
Chris Larabee watched the family closely.
There were seven of them. James Westbrook who ran the town likes he ran his property, his wife Eloise, two daughters Lucy and Rebecca and three sons, Isaac, Timothy and Damien who also lived on the homestead. Although he was one of only a small number of workers on the ranch, Chris was careful to stay out of sight. The other ranch hands did not like him much but that suited Chris fine. He was not there to make friends. He kept a close eye on the family, watching their movements like a cat studying the mouse before attack, committing everything to memory. If he should fail when he finally made his move, it was not going to be due to any lack of preparation.
Although he was careful to study all of them, it was only Damien Westbrook who had Chris' undivided attention. The youngest of the entire clan, Damien was in ownership of a mean streak known to most of the young women in town. The more respectable ones would not speak of the abuses they had received at his hands but Chris had kept his ears open and knew the look of those who had suffered. Damien liked his sex rough and he did not discriminate on whom he chose as his partner once the desire took him. Every now and then a working girl would turn up dead, battered to death. Sheriff Barlow who was bought and paid for by James Westbrook paid it little mind. There was not even the formality of an investigation. No one in town had any doubt as to the perpetrator of the crime, however, it was not wise to make mention of it. Those who had been unfortunate enough to protest, usually an outraged father or relative wound up dead. Sheriff Barlow would then deem the reason for the death anything other than it was really was.
Murder.
Had Damien chosen to keep his activities within the sphere of his father's influence, it was entirely possible he could have continued his sadistic pleasures for years to come. In Crest Falls where James Westbrook ruled supreme, Damien was safely protected from the law. Threats or monetary gifts to the victims or their families usually put an end to any recrimination after Damien's excesses. However, it was only a matter of time when the victim would no longer be somewhere that Westbrook could buy or threaten into submission.
Bitter Creek was more than a day's ride from Crest Falls and it was a large town with a duly appointed Sheriff who took the law just as seriously as the safety of its citizenry. When the daughter of the local postmaster was raped and murdered after a dance, those present at the function identified Damien as her escort for most of the evening. He had been in Bitter Creek to see about buying a new horse and had chosen to stay for a few days. By the time the girl's body had been discovered, Damien had wisely returned to the safety of Crest Falls but this time old man Westbrook's influence could not pacify the girl's enraged family. Warrants were issued and Sheriff Allen journeyed to Crest Falls to arrest the boy.
He never returned.
Since then, numerous lawmen were sent out to retrieve the boy and to date, none of them had succeeded. James Westbrook was allowing no one to take his son and the men he employed to protect the boy, made that determination a reality. The warrant on Damien Westbrook was left outstanding. With each fresh attempt and eventual failure to apprehend him, the bounty on the boy's head began to rise steadily. A thousand dollars was not a king's ransom for a bounty but it could buy a nice parcel of land somewhere.
It was a bounty that Chris Larabee intended to collect.
Thus Chris spent a month on the Westbrook homestead, waiting like a coiled serpent for the perfect time to make Damien accountable for what he had done. There were other reasons at work for his motivation, the least of it being money. Some were personal reasons and the others were simply a sense of indignation that anyone could be so brutal and was allowed to get away with it. He knew he could be a paradox at times because his emotions were walled in so tightly that it seemed almost invulnerable. Yet, there were occasions when sentiment would creep in and he would find himself a cause for which to believe.
He was never more dangerous when he believed in something.
Christmas Eve was a time of celebration for everyone in the Haven. Most of the workers on the property whether they were ranch hands or hired guns, had gone to town to enjoy the holiday or were with their families. Chris Larabee had no such obligations to fulfil. There was on family in his past who were expecting him and if they were, they would have found him otherwise engaged. After a month of working the cattle and all the other duties that made up a ranch hand's lot, Chris was finally ready to take his leave of Haven.
As he strode towards the main house leading his horse behind him, he could hear the happy voices singing carols within its walls. For a brief moment, he imagined the presents being exchange under a gaily, coloured Christmas tree. He crushed the image mercilessly as he reminded himself what he was here to do. He had chosen tonight for specific reasons. The hired guns that protected Damien Westbrook for so long had ridden to Crest Falls an hour ago. Chris did not expect to see them before morning. No doubt the working girls in the neighbouring areas would be busy tonight. James had let them go because he believed no lawmen would come calling on Christmas Eve.
Chris had expected as much, which was why he had maintained the charade as a ranch hand for so long. As one of Westbrook's employees, he could move about freely without suspicion. In fact, he could come and go as he pleased, as he would tonight. If all went well, he and Damien would be out of the territory before Westbrook could alert his men.
Chris tethered the animal to the horse rail in front of the house and proceeded up the steps. Stepping onto the porch, Chris circled the large house, taking note of where everyone was. He wished the entire family was not present but knew it was a situation that could not be helped. It was now or never. Another factor that gave him cause for concern was that the house was double storey building and he knew his reconnaissance was not full proof since he could observe if anyone was up there. As he rounded the building, he could hear the singing grow louder. He arrived at a set of open doors and peered past it long enough to see Eloise Westbrook at the piano, with her children around her singing Christmas carols. There was something about the scene that almost gave Chris pause but the bounty hunter forced it away with expert control. James Westbrook was seated on what looked his favourite chair smoking a pipe, enjoying the quality family time.
Enjoy it for the last time, Chris thought to himself.
He drew both guns from the gun belt around his waist and cocked the weapons into readiness. Without drawing another breath, Chris stepped through the door with his guns drawn as calmly as any visitor making an unexpected appearance did.
"Good evening." He greeted.
The first one to react was Eloise. She screamed in fright as she saw the stranger before them. Damien jumped out of his chair and Chris only had to shift the barrel of his gun slightly for the boy to know that it was wiser to remain seated. The others reacted with similar hastiness until the barrels they staring down, told them different. Only James Westbrook seemed unperturbed by the sudden interruption.
"Larabee?" He said quietly. "What is this about?"
The old man was playing it safe Chris realised. He didn't want his family hurt. Good, that was a valuable bargaining commodity. "Your boy." Chris said simply. "I'm taking him in."
"No!" Eloise squealed as her eyes darted toward her youngest. Damien Westbrook glowered at Chris in black hatred.
"Shut up." Chris barked. "Get over here." His eyes met Damien's with enough threat in his voice to ensure that Damien obeyed. Obviously, his bravery only showed itself when he was using his fists on women. With an equal, Damien was not so forward. "Now." Chris repeated.
"You're not taking him." Timothy Westbrook declared imperiously. "We'll kill you first."
"This is not a negotiation." Chris reminded them. "Your boy has an outstanding warrant for his arrest and price on his head. I am bringing him in. Dead or alive is up to you." He looked at James because James was the only one who could decide how this went.
"I took you in you bastard!" James snarled angrily, rising from his chair. "I gave you a job!"
"And I appreciate it," Chris retorted, "which is why I won't kill the lot of you as some of my less scrupulous colleagues have wanted to do."
Damien walked towards him slowly and as he advanced, Chris could see Timothy's hand moving out of sight.
"Your hands!" Chris cried out but it was too late and the whole thing went to hell.
Later on, he would replay the incident in his mind, wondering if he could have done things differently and knowing the futility that comes with irrevocable outcomes. Timothy Westbrook would pull out a six shooter and Chris would fire without thinking twice. The bullet would slam into the chest of the middle Westbrook son amidst the terrified screaming of his mother and sisters. In rage, Damien would charge him and Chris would fire the other gun in he was holding, aiming for the boy's knee. The bullet stuck bone and Damien went down with a cry of pain. Even before Timothy hit the ground, Chris knew he had killed the man. James Westbrook, horrified by seeing both sons shot, would lunge at Chris. The man was older and heavier and Chris reflexes were fast even for a young man. He side-stepped the charging rancher who went through the doors, in time to see the final Westbrook son making his attack. Somewhere, Isaac Westbrook produced a rifle and took aim while Chris was distracted with his father. Chris dropped to his knees as buckshot flew overhead, knocking his hat from his head. He fired again, needing only one shot.
The shot blew out the back of Isaac Westbrook's skull. Blood and grey matter splattered across the wallpaper with its dainty yellow flowers. The screaming was almost high pitched now and did not come simply from Eloise. Chris turned around when he realised that James had not risen from where he fell. In his charge, the old man had fallen off the porch and was lying on the dirt ground, without moving at all. Slowly, Chris approached him, wondering if the man was playing possum and would attempt a surprise attach. Chris prodded the man's still body with his boot and saw no movement. For a moment, was puzzled until he turned Westbrook over and saw the unusual angle of his neck.
James Westbrook was dead. His neck was broken.
Chris regarded the man's dead form and swore under his breath. He had never intention of killing James Westbrook or his sons. He had only wanted to bring in a rapist and a murder, not become one himself. He knew that he had shot in self defence but to the women crying in that house, whose lives would never be same again and whose Christmases from this point on, would be a memory of loss, Chris knew he would always be a murderer.
The ride to Bitter Creek was fast and furious. Knowing that he had only a matter of hours before Westbrook's men came after him, Chris slung the injured body of Damien Wesbrook on the back of his horse and sped out of Crest Falls on full gallop. Despite the urgency of the situation and his ability to stay focussed on any situation, he found his mind unable to forget the scene he had left in the Westbrook home. He had never meant for the others to die. In fact, he had not wanted any of the Westbrooks to be harmed. Nothing was ever certain, Chris knew that but he also knew that he should have been able to handle things better. The sounds of Eloise's tears echoed in his mind the further he got from Crest Falls.
They were half way to Bitter Creek when Damien Westbrook finally overcame his injuries enough to speak. "You bastard!" He cried in a half sob. "You killed my father and my brothers!"
Chris closed his eyes as the words stung him more than they should have. Normally, words barely effected him but today was not an ordinary day and what had transpired at the boy's home justified Chris' guilt. "I didn't want it to go down that way."
"You didn't want?" Damien fairly screamed. His arms were tied and his leg throbbed in agony. Chris had treated the wound enough so that he could make the journey to Bitter Creek. Once Damien was in custody, Chris was certain he would get the attention of the local doctor. In any case, his injuries made him easier to handle and at the moment, Chris did not need the aggravation. He felt bad enough about ht had happened.
"I'm sorry," Chris found himself saying. "I meant to take you without harming your family."
"I still got money," Damien started blathering now that it was apparent that no rescue was forthcoming. The darkness behind them offered no sounds of hooves beating down in pursuit. Instead, the plains behind them were silent with the stillness of night. Even the stars seemed to have disappeared behind the canopy of grey clouds. It did not seem like it was Christmas at all. The realisation that he might be facing a hangman's noose brought out his fear. "I can pay you double the reward for my head."
Chris snorted in disgust but he was hardly surprised. He almost expected Damien to begin pleading for his life once he became aware of his situation. "This ain't about money." He said simply. "No deal." He added in case Damien misunderstood.
"What else is there but the money?" Damien shouted in rising desperation. "Isn't that what all you bounty hunters want?"
Chris continued riding into the night and made a decision along the way. It was not much restitution, considering Chris had just killed the man's brothers and his father but he was at least deserving of why Chris Larabee had sought him out. "Do you know who Alice Sullivan is?" Chris asked as they reached the outskirts of Bitter Creek. In the distance, the town's lights flickered a beacon of calling to them.
"Who?" Damien demanded, feeling the pain in his shattered knee more acutely than ever.
"I guess they all look the same when you're tearing them to pieces with your hands." Chris said coolly. "Alice Sullivan used to live in Crest Falls. She was the daughter of Jebediah Sullivan, the boot maker. Do you remember her now?"
Damien searched his memory. There had been so many women; so many faces begging for mercy as his fists did the talking. Just thinking about how they had whimpered and cried drove any thought of remorse over the events of some hours ago. "I don't remember her."
"She remembered you." Chris answered. "She remembered how you raped her and then beat her so bad that her own kin could barely recognise her. She remembered right until the time she killed herself a few weeks later."
Damien knew nothing of the woman in question. The bounty hunter was right; they did look a like when he was enjoying himself. It made no difference whether their hair was blond or brunettes, blue eyes or green. In the final analysis, how they made him feel was all he cared about.
"She was going to marry a friend of mine." Chris continued. "I don't have many friends, so I sure as hell wasn't about to let him ride on up to your father's ranch and kill you. Your dad would make sure he never even reached Haven, let alone get there alive. So I made him a promise, I told Buck I'd take care of it myself. You're going to Bitter Creek and you're going to stand trial for murdering the postmaster's daughter and maybe, Buck will be able to sleep nights again."
Damien said nothing for a moment, content merely to digest the information Chris had provided. When he finally spoke, there was no trace of the previous fear in his voice. Instead, he answered with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "He may be able to sleep nights again, but you won't. You better pray they kill me, Larabee cause you'll never be able to stop looking over your shoulder. I'll get you, one way or another, I'll destroy you."
"You can try." Chris replied unperturbed. Threats were nothing new to him.
He was still screaming those words when Chris rode away from the jailhouse, a day later.
The woman had spent most of her life travelling. In her mind's eye, were memories of faraway places, India, Palestine and even St Petersburg. She had visited the continent and found it charming in the way one might admire a fading beauty. However, this was the first time she had made any journey alone. She had no idea why she had come here, knowing only that it was a place that seemed to need her as much she needed it. As the stagecoach thundered through the unyielding terrain, she wondered if in all the world, she could have made a less inhospitable choice. When she had selected her destination, she searched for a place where she could use the skills she had spent so much of painstaking time perfecting and never being able to use.
Most people could not believe that she had passed through some of the finest universities in Europe. She did this and more only to find herself languishing in the walls of a male dominated system where women were considered usurpers, not additions. When her father was alive, he had allowed her to practise is a limited fashion but he was dead and gone now and he wanted only thing of her before the final crossing. He wanted to know he was leaving his daughter behind as a doctor.
Alexandra Styles did not know if Four Corners was the place where she could finally be one, but she knew she had to try.
The other passengers in the coach seemed to regard her with a mixture of emotions. The women viewed her with curiosity, trying to place the race she might have originated. The men's emotions were easier to place. They saw an exotic young woman with bronzed skin and jet coloured hair that stared back at them with warm brown eyes, full of intelligence. She was possibly a Creole but there was something about her that did not match that description.
"Do you have family in Four Corners dear?" An elderly woman inquired. The woman was well dressed. With a flash of insight, Alex guessed that she sat court over a large family.
"No." Alex answered politely.
"That is a most unusual accent." The woman remarked. Alex tried to stifle a smile because her origins were a point of great curiosity to the dowager. "Is it European?"
"Partially," Alex nodded. "My father was English but my mother was part Indian."
"Indian?" The women's nose wrinkled in distaste, although she tried to hide it. "You do not look like an Indian."
It took a moment for Alex to realise that the woman was speaking of an entirely different extraction. "Oh no, I'm not American Indian." She explained. "I meant India as in the continent in the far east."
"I see." The woman said uncertainly. India might as well have been on the moon for all these people knew. "Such a long journey to a god forsaken place."
Apparently, it did not matter where Alex was from as long as she was not a native Indian or what they referred to as 'coloured' in this country. As for her description of Four Corners, the woman's view was the general description by most of the people Alex asked to describe the town.
"And what will you do in Four Corners?"
"I'm hoping to set up a practice." Alex replied, wondering if the dowager could handle this next snippet of information. Alex was certain that her sensibilities were stretching beyond their limits.
"Practice?" She looked at Alex in confusion.
"Yes," the young woman nodded. "I'm a doctor."
Unlike most of the inhabitants in Four Corners, Chris Larabee was not generally inclined to investigate the new Emporium that had opened in the town recently. Despite the fact that it was a lavish production of colourful street awnings and wide picture windows displaying mannequins garbed in the latest fashions, supposedly stocking everything from ladies undergarments to a fine collection of guns, Chris had little or no curiosity to visit the place. When he was finally forced to visit the establishment it had been a trip forced out of necessity than any need to investigate.
The decision to actually enter the new Emporium was one with which he wrestled with over a period of hours. All morning, he had been faced with this uncomfortable dilemma, trying to decide whether or not it was a wiser choice to simply go to Bitter Creek to conduct his business privately or for expediency, brave the new store in Four Corners. Whatever the choice, he had to do it today. He had paced the floors of his small house out of town, like a lion trapped in cage. He had no idea why he felt so daunted about such a simple task. After all, in his lifetime he had done a great deal worse. It was not as if anyone would point a finger the moment he stepped into the walls of the emporium and started screaming his presence there. He ruminated on these points for an unusual length of time before he decided to bite the bullet and just go, no matter what the consequences.
All this because he was now had a woman in his life.
Chris finally left for town wondering if he ever felt so uncomfortable when he had been required to perform this duty for Sarah? He supposed it made all the difference back then because he had been younger and people sort of expected it from a family man. During the early days of their courtship, Chris had felt no embarrassment turning up at her doorstep with flowers and tokens of love. Since he was travelling most of the time, it did not matter any way. He would normally purchase something out of town where no one knew him or the lady he was buying for. His anonymity allowed him his dignity.
He stopped in front of the steps leading into the emporium and felt his courage falter. Inside, he could see people going about their business, shopping as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He had seen friends do it with similar ease and yet here he was Chris Larabee, undoubtedly the most intimidating man in Four Corners and all he wanted to do was drown in whiskey and forget the whole idea.
Except tomorrow was Mary Travis' birthday and he had yet to buy her anything.
Chris turned around and took two steps away from the place. It was as far as he got before turning around again once he remembered what he was here to do. It went on like that for the next few minutes, two steps forward, three steps back. If anyone noticed this strange dance he was performing, no one dared to make light of it.
Jesus Larabee, Chris swore under his breath. Stop being such a damn coward! It's just a birthday present. No one's asking you retake Atlanta.
Telling himself for the hundredth time that he could handle this, Chris took a deep breath and started up the freshly painted wooden steps.
It was early afternoon and the emporium was seeing heavy traffic, mostly from the women in Four Corners. Although he saw some men in the vicinity, most of the customers were female. He had hoped to lose himself in the crowd but obviously that idea was shot to hell since he was the only one in the crowd not wearing a full-length skirt. Although he tried to appear completely indifferent as he entered the place, all eyes immediately turn to him. The sight of all the scrutiny almost made Chris Larabee spin on his heels and get out of with his life but he crushed the discomfiture and told himself to take it like a man.
A young woman whom he had seen around town, with dark auburn hair approached him gingerly. Chris remembered he had seen her once with Buck and realised her name was Elisabeth. "Mr Larabee, how nice to see you. Can I help you?"
Chris was almost told her to mind her own business when it occurred to him that she worked here. This place was certainly large enough to warrant shop assistants and he was glad he did not say anything rude. "I'm fine." He said gruffly, trying to move away.
The girl looked at him with a glint in her eyes that told Chris that she knew exactly what he was doing here. "Well, please free feel to ask if you require any help." She offered and Chris slinked away, reconsidering this whole stupid idea.
However, he did not walk out of the store.
After awhile, the novelty of his presence disappeared and the patrons returned their attention to their own purchases, although some did meet his eyes with curiosity, every time they happened by him. Although he was tempted to stay in the part of the Emporium that sold guns and the kind of things men would buy, Chris knew at some point, he was going to have to surface. There was actually a moment of desperation, when he considered the merits of presenting Mary with a good fishing knife; after all, he did not remember her owning one.
His thoughts ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous and he realised that he was more terrified about being discovered buying something for the woman he loved than having to face a hundred outlaws single-handedly. Finally, he returned to the section of the store that catered for the female population of Four Corners. Although the eyes still followed him as he browsed through the goods, Chris was able to shrug off the attention and eventually felt some measure of ease.
Overcoming that particular problem led to another. What exactly was he going to buy her? He had been three years out of practice buying anything for a woman. Even if the Emporium was filled with possibilities, Chris had no idea where to begin. He walked past shelves containing clothes, cosmetics, jewellery and the kind of trinkets only women would find interesting, unable to fathom which would be remotely appropriate. Just handing her flowers would mean that he had spent no time considering her gift and opted what was convenient. Chris had wanted to buy Mary something special. It was bad enough that she did not a wedding ring even though they were now intimately involved. While he was grateful that she was not rushing him into anything, he did feel as if there ought to be some formal understanding between them.
He was almost ready to give up when he suddenly came across the showcase cabinet at the front of the store. Unlike the others, this one was secured with a locking mechanism with a shop assistant in place. Chris wandered over to the glass case, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. Fortunately, while people knew him on sight, very few like to approach him. Chris was never more grateful for that fact than at this moment.
Beneath the glass, was small collection of cameos, earrings and brooches, resting against a backdrop of sapphire satin. The vibrant colour offset the gleaming metal for maximum effect. Judging by the prices labelled on them, he gathered that the gold and silver were not plated but the genuine article. They were expensive but affordable, Chris decided. He did not bother looking at the earrings because he knew selection was exclusively a feminine expertise. However, the cameos did appear promising. The shop assistant, an older woman in her forties who stood by watching in silent amusement, he was sure. He examined a particular piece with the ornate engraving of a rose and decided that if he had to make a choice, this would serve.
"Chris?" He heard a decidedly familiar voice behind him and swore. Chris did need to look behind him to know which of the seven had discovered him.
Buck. It had to be Buck.
Chris straightened up and tried to inject as much cool into his manner as possible. He looked at the lady and tapped the glass over the trinket before remarking politely. "I'll take this."
She nodded slightly, still wearing the barest hint of a smile as she fished a set of keys from the work apron tied over her skirt. "That's a lovely choice. Shall I have it wrapped?"
Chris tilted his head forward in the affirmative and took a deep breath before turning around. "Buck, JD." Chris said indifferently as if nothing about this was out of the ordinary.
Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne stood before him. While JD was merely surprised at Chris' presence here, Buck was wearing a wide, knowing grin on his face. It gave Chris the strongest urge to wipe that smirk off Buck's face with his fist.
"Hi Chris," JD said unaware of what all the fuss was about. "Buck thinks I should buy a new hat." He said gesturing to the worn bowler that had suffered greatly since its arrival in Four Corners.
"Good idea." Chris commented, making no effort to enlighten anyone as to why he was here.
"Shopping Chris?" Buck inquired, looking over the man's shoulder to see what the lady was removing from behind the counter. He saw enough to know that it was nothing Chris was buying for himself. "I thought the men's section was that way." Buck glanced in the direction of that particular part of the store.
"I'm just looking around." The man in black remarked icily.
"That will be twenty dollars, Mr Larabee." The shop assistant intruded on the conversation and Chris wondered if her timing could be any worse. Giving Buck a cold glare, he cleared his throat and turned back to the counter.
Buck tried not to laugh but he was clearly enjoying Chris' uneasiness. He walked next to Chris and looked at what his oldest friend was paying for. Chris did not meet Buck's gaze as he counted the wad of notes in his hand and exchanged them for a small box, wrapped gaily in glossy colours of red and gold.
"Thank you Mr Larabee." She said politely. "I'm sure the young lady will appreciate it." As she turned away, Chris saw that her amusement was apparent. However, it was not as blatant as the wide grin on Buck Wilmington's face. Although the seven were aware of his relationship with Mary, Chris had tried very hard to keep his feelings for Mary private. This was no easy feat with Buck around. For some reason, Buck delighted in his discomfiture regarding this new relationship although why, was beyond Chris' understanding.
"Is that for the fair Mrs Travis?" Buck inquired innocently.
Chris growled under his breath and stuffed the box in his pocket. "Drop dead Buck." With that, the evasive gunslinger strode out of the establishment before Buck lost all control of his composure and Chris was forced to shoot him.
JD watched the interplay between both men with no idea what had transpired. "What was that all about?" He asked Buck who had started laughing.
"Nothing JD," Buck replied patting the boy on the back. "That man can shoot a fly off man's nose at 300 paces without even grazing him but you send Chris to go buy something for a lady and he still goes completely to pieces."
"Well maybe its just because Mrs Travis is such a lady and all." JD said coming to Chris' defence. After all, it was no easy thing buying the appropriate gift for someone special. He had endured similar difficulties when he had decided to court Casey for the first time. If not for Mrs Travis, Nathan and Josiah, the whole thing might have ended in disaster. As it was, he ended buying Casey the digger anyway.
"Who's talking about Mrs Travis?" Buck retorted. "He was like this even when he was courting Sarah."
There were days in the town of Four Corners where people were in constant fear of their lives. It sometimes felt as if every bandit, outlaw, varmint and generally lawless hombre would to find their way into the municipality, announcing themselves in a blaze of gunfire leaving innocents dead. The citizens of Four Corners understood this unfortunate state of affairs as one of the calamities expected when one lived in the West. The gory tales of gunslingers and shootouts greedily feasted upon by impressionable youths reading dime store novels in the East, was not fiction to the townspeople. They lived the life portrayed so dramatically in sordid paperbacks.
That was before the Seven of course.
While there was still danger, for this was after all, the territory known as the Wild West, Four Corners was enjoying a period of relative peace. Since the unofficial appointment of the seven as peacekeepers by Judge Orin Travis, Four Corners was safer than it had ever been under the protection any marshal or sheriff. There days, the intervals between one spate of violence and the next had lengthened considerably from hours to weeks thanks to the men who now guarded the town with genuine dedication. In turn, Four Corners had embraced the guardians (if somewhat gingerly) and the seven men had become the recognised authority of law.
On this particular day during one of those cherished intervals of peace, there was little for any of the seven to do. After his experience in the Emporium, Chris had chosen to more familiar territory. He had yet to decide whether disembowelling was too good for Buck or should he remain with the tried and true method of just shooting the man, preferably in the mouth. While the rest of the seven had the good sense to leave the subject of Mary Travis alone, Buck enjoyed reminding Chris of his sudden change of personal status. He flinched at the word 'beau' being used anywhere after his name. It was not that he was ashamed of being with Mary, it just that he did not like their relationship viewed under a magnifying glass by everyone and his brother.
Ezra was behind the counter, playing bar tender while Inez worked the room with a serving tray. They were a good team, Chris noted. Saloon profits had been limping along prior to the arrival of the sultry Mexican woman. Maude Standish, who was part owner of Ezra's saloon had bought controlling interest and appointed Inez who had been just a waitress at that point, to guard her interests as manager. The result had been a sudden rise in patrons who not only came for the drinking but also for the Mexican cuisine at which Inez was very adept and a chance to be served by undoubtedly one of the most engaging females in town.
At the moment, their relationship involved nothing but business. With a smile of satisfaction, Chris wondered if Buck would survive the disappointment if it ever came to pass that Ezra and Inez's friendship was anything but platonic. Chris had seen the look in Buck's eyes when he cast his gaze upon the woman and he had known the ladies man long enough to know when one really touched him. While Buck could run a list of all the women he's ever had, only Chris knew how many he had really loved, from the first to the last.
"Hey Ezra." Chris greeted as he reached the counter.
"Good afternoon Mr Larabee." Ezra said reaching for a bottle of whiskey without having to ask what he was having. Placing a glass on the counter, he slid the full bottle towards Chris who caught it easily. "Is it your turn to do the rounds?" By that he meant the regular patrols undertaken by the seven when the town was quiet. It was their way of keeping tabs on any possible trouble before it became out of hand.
"No," Chris responded. "Just here to run some errands." For the moment anyway, none of the others needed to know his shopping escapade. No doubt, Buck would fill them in on every embarrassing detail.
"Hello Chris." Inez smiled as she breezed past him with an empty tray, to join Ezra behind the counter.
"Does that mean I am liberated from this tiresome chore?" He said moving out from behind the counter.
Inez rolled her eyes and exchanged a resigned expression that Chris knew all too well. He often felt it when he was dealing with Buck. "You know, it would not kill you to do some work around here." She complained.
"Madam," Ezra said graciously. "I would not dream of intruding on the realm upon which you are so capable of administering."
"Yeah, yeah," Inez retorted sarcastically as Chris picked up his glass and bottle and went to join the others at their table.
"Anything I should know about?" Chris inquired, directing his question at Vin Tanner. Although Vin was not much older than JD, in his absence, Chris could rely on Vin to ensure things ran smoothly like no other in the group. Vin had a quiet strength about him that people tended to give people a certain confidence when it was lacking. Since Chris had bought the house and land out of town, he relied on Vin to give him accurate intelligence on current events in Four Corners.
"Not much." Vin replied, handing Ezra a deck of cards in an unspoken request for a game. "Just the usual drunks last night but JD put them in the tank to sleep it off. One of the working girls got into some trouble but we handled it okay."
"Where's Nathan?" Chris inquired, noting the absence of Four Corner's only physician.
"He rode out early," Josiah reported, picking up the cards Ezra was dealing quite deftly around the felt table. "He went out to the Indian village."
Chris remembered. At Kojay's request, Nathan often rode out to the Indian reservation to look in on the villagers. Other than their medicine men, the tribe did not have access to any proper medical facilities. While Nathan could hardly be called a qualified physician, he did know enough to treat minor ailments and refer those who required more specialised services to the doctor in Bitter Creek. When he made such trips, Nathan would not be seen until late evening for he spent most of the day conducting thorough examinations.
"Stage is here." Chris remarked as he picked up his cards and glanced briefly out the window.
The stagecoach thundered through the centre of town, coming to a halt not far from the only hotel in Four Corners. He took a sip of his whiskey and watched in quiet observation as the stage coach driver brought the team of horses to a slow, steady halt. Judging by the amount of luggage perched on top if it, Chris guessed that the stage was full today and in his curiosity continued his watchful eye over it.
Involuntarily, the rest of the men found themselves watching the stage also, mostly out of sheer boredom. They were gravitating between the boredom at not having to do but also the reluctance of not wanting to do anything in the heat of the summer's day outside. As the stage door opened, passengers began to file out in seemingly orderly fashion. It was the last occupant that captured everyone's interest.
"My goodness." Josiah said quietly. "What have we here?"
The young woman who emerged from the stagecoach had everyone's undivided attention at that instant. Not only was she extraordinarily beautiful, there was something about her that inspired a smile even on Chris' jaded features. She wore her jet-colored hair loose around her shoulders, while her brown eyes surveyed the new surroundings. The woman lingered near the coach as the driven began unloading the luggage from the top of the stage. A great deal of it seemed to be hers. Judging by the volume of her trunks and carpetbags, it appeared she was in Four Corners for a lengthy stay.
"Now that is a lady." Vin remarked with similar appreciation.
Until now, Ezra had resisted the urge to gawk. In his time, he had come across many women with unsurpassed beauty, that he no longer believed the opposite sex had any power to catch him in their feminine snares. However, the reaction of the others caused him to look up from his cards and indulge in the gawking they were so openly demonstrating. Normally, anything wearing a skirt was enough to make most of them sit up at attention but Ezra noticed that Chris was also looking on in interest.
Once he looked, he could not turn away. Very little affected Ezra so completely as to leave him at a loss for words but seeing her left him unable to shift his gaze. Even from this distance, it was obvious that there was more to this lady than the beauty of her looks. She was exotic and looking at her conjured up images of aromatic spices and tropical heat in far away places.
"Venus had walked into our midst's." Ezra whispered under his breath.
"I don't believe it." Vin exclaimed. "How does he do it?"
"He must have a sixth sense." Josiah commented as they all saw Buck Wilmington suddenly appear on the street, making a beeline for the new arrival.
"That's what way to put it," Chris retorted, knowing exactly how far south of his waistline that sense originated. "If he was a horse, he'd be the hardest working animal at the stud."
"I'm so glad he isn't wasting away pining for Inez." Josiah said with an amused smile.
Alex had just paid the stage coach driver a gratuity with instructions to carry her belongings to the local hotel when she found herself confronted by what seemed like the welcoming committee. The tall, handsome man came towards her with a wide grin and bushy moustache. He was not unattractive but judging by the way that he was swaggering towards her, Alex guessed his purpose very quickly. She had been around the world enough to recognise the type even if it was only the continents that were different. Without doubt, this specimen considered himself quite the ladies' man.
"Good evening darling," he greeted her, oozing with charm.
"Hello." Alex said politely in response. Although she could see clearly through him, Alex saw little reason to be rude.
"Permit me introduce myself," he said bowing gallantly and Alex had to stifle a smile because he performed it like a man who was unaccustomed to such formality. "I am Buck Wilmington."
She raised a brow in silent amusement and responded with her hand extended. "Alexandra Styles."
For a moment, he looked at her outstretched hand unsure of what he was meant to do next. She could almost see the realisation flash in his mind as he quickly took her gloved hand and planted a kiss against her knuckles. "Please to meet your acquaintance, ma'am." He offered his most dashing smile.
"Why thank you Mr Wilmington." Alex replied as she turned around and looked for the stage driver who was only a few yards ahead and making slow progress to the hotel with her things. Her eyes followed the direction he was heading and saw the hotel that would serve as her temporary accommodation until she was permanently settled.
Alex was hardly surprised when Buck started following her. "What brings such a beautiful woman like you to Four Corners, Alexandra?" Buck inquired, pleased at how well things were going. He always had a weakness for the elegant ones and Miss Styles (god he hoped it was Miss) was as refined as he would ever come across in this town.
"Call me Alex." She remarked offering him a friendly smiled as she stepped onto the wooden sidewalk and continued towards the hotel. While she was aware of Buck following her, Alex was studying Four Corners closely. "I'm thinking of settling here." She answered Buck. As they passed by the saloon, she noticed a handful of men loitering at the door. She counted at least four and found them to be an eclectic bunch. For some reason, she fascinated them as she walked by. Alex wondered at this until she glanced over her shoulder and noticed Buck gesturing at them with his hands. The gesture looked like 'go away'.
"Friends of yours, Mr Wilmington?" She asked with a smile.
Buck flashed an irritated scowl in their direction before he turned back to her. "You could call 'em that."
Obviously, they were watching him to see how well he would fare with the new lady in town. Despite herself, Alex could not bear to see him embarrassed on her account. Although she could honestly say she was not the slightest bit interested in Buck Wilmington, Alex had to admit she did like him. Even for a short time, he had grown on her. Besides, in two words she could describe him with complete accuracy.
Mostly harmless.
She paused in mid stride and looked up at Buck. From this distance, his friends had a good view of everything that transpired between them. "Mr Wilmington," she said breathlessly, imitating some of the debutantes she had been forced to associate with in her youth. "For your kindness, I would be delighted if you would escort me to my lodgings?" With that, she offered him his hand.
Buck's eyes widened in surprise but he recovered quickly. Throwing a triumphant smirk at the other men, he took the lady's hand and they proceeded towards the hotel. Once they were out of earshot, Buck looked at Alex.
"Thanks Miss Styles." He replied, showing her that he was not at all fooled by her performance. "That could have been embarrassing." Suddenly, he liked her a great deal more knowing that she had just preserved his dignity in front of Chris and the others.
"Well, never let it be said that a woman has never rescued a man's honour." Alex said with good humour.
"Okay," he sighed blowing out all airs and attempts to win her since it was clear that Alexandra Styles was not easily fooled and probably immune to his animal magnetism. He wondered why it was always the smart ones who could see past it. "Now that I've stopped short of making a complete jackass of myself, I'd like to at least salvage the situation and welcome you to Four Corners." This time he was genuinely sincere with no hidden motives in the greeting.
"Thank you Mr Wilmington." She replied graciously.
"Call me Buck." He said quickly. "Alex."
Although it was not really proper for him to be calling her by her first name, Buck sensed that this woman was not the least bit concerned by what seemed acceptable. Not excessively anyway. If anything, she seemed a tad eccentric. From the sound of her voice, he knew for certain that she was a foreigner to the country and who knew what kind of strange behaviour she brought with her.
"So Alex," he asked genuinely curious this time. "What brings you to town?"
"Well," she said reaching the doors to the hotel. "I'm here to open up a practice."
Buck looked at her. "Practice what."
Alex chuckled slightly and then realised he was not joking with her. "A medical practice." She stated for clarification.
"You're a doctor?" He exclaimed in astonishment. "But you're a ......" He stopped himself before he could say it.
Unfortunately, Alex was perfectly aware what he meant. "There are lady doctors you know." Alex retorted. It never ceased to amaze her how the same words could come from men all over the world without fail. She had studied medicine in England only to be thought of as little more than an above average nurse. Why was it so difficult for men to imagine that women could be doctors?
"I know but...." He tried to speak but whatever he was going to say faded in his throat. "We knew a doctor was coming sometime, Nathan told us, but we expected a ......"
"A man." Alex concluded sarcastically and spared him the effort of saying it out loud.
"Are you really a doctor?" Buck could not imagine that this beautiful, refined woman could be in such a line of work. During the war it was necessary for women to work in army hospitals as nurses. He knew that many women in the city chose that line of work as a career but to become an actual doctor? Was it even legal?
"Class of 71." She said dryly. Her affection for Buck had suddenly evaporated like the dry dirt that covered the town. "Now if you excuse me," she turned on her heels finding no patience to deal with his chauvinism. "I have to get settled."
Buck returned to the saloon and found the others had returned to their table and resumed their interrupted card game. He could not wrap his mind around the idea of a lady doctor in town. Less than a month ago, Mary Travis had told Nathan that their quest to find a doctor willing to start a practice in Four Corners had finally come to fruition. The town had difficulty in filling the position because no respectable doctor wanted to practice in a place like Four Corners. Doctors preferred larger towns where there was access to hospitals and proper facilities. Nathan had welcomed the assistance because the black man was realistic about his capabilities. As he had explained to the rest of the seven, it was one thing to knit broken bones and sew torn muscle. However, it was another matter entirely when one had to perform major surgery or offer diagnoses on serious illnesses. For that they required a professional.
"Hey Buck," Chris teased. "It looks like you swept the lady of her feet."
"That was no lady." Buck sat down heavily, still stunned. "That was the doctor."
Chris' eyes widened. The gun fighter put down his glass and sat up right. For Chris, it was more of a reaction than anyone had seen him display in months. "You're kidding."
"I thought the doctor was a man." Josiah said looking confused.
"Wait a minute," Buck suddenly realised how they could have been misunderstood the gender of their new medical practitioner.
Call me Alex.
"Alex Styles." He declared, stumbling onto the answer. "Her name is Alexandra but she likes to be called Alex. That was probably why Mrs Travis thoughts the doctor was a man. The telegram probably said Alex Styles not Alexandra.." For Buck, this was quite a leap in deductive reasoning. It was a trait he did not display often enough for Chris' liking.
"A lady doctor." Ezra sighed. "Now that is an interesting of events. I guess it is not entirely beyond the realm of possibility." Ezra made certain that his voice betrayed nothing of the enchantment that had struck him earlier.
"The Indians have had medicine women for as along as there have been tribes. I don't see what so strange about it." Vin replied, true to form. The young man was very rarely started by anything. He was unflappable by most things that happened around him because Vin had the amazing ability to take anything in stride. It was one of the reasons why he and Chris Larabee got along so well.
"I've said it once and I'll say it again, its gotta be the water in this town." Buck mused as if he were a man ensnared in a bad dream. "First we got a newspaper woman, then a lady bartender, now a doctor." His eyes narrowed as terrifying possibilities reared its ugly head in his over active imagination and Buck leaned forward and whispered. "Its coming you know, they'll be taking over everything and keep us around just for the breeding."
"You wish." Inez retorted as she walked past him with a tray of drinks.
Her departure followed an explosion of laughter from everyone except Buck who really was serious about the point he was trying to make. It took a few moments for everyone to settle down again before Chris remarked. "A doctor is a doctor I suppose." He decided. After all, Mary had shown this town that it was entirely possible for a woman to run a newspaper and raise a child at the same time. It was not that much of a leapt for the folk of Four Corners to grasp that the same could be the same about a lady doctor.
"Well I ain't going to see her." Buck said defiantly. "It just ain't right."
"I'll keep that in mind the next time you get shot up." Chris retorted. For some reason, the idea was not difficult to accept once the initial surprise had worn away. However, it was also possible that Chris was biased in this situation. He liked strong women and lately he had a real taste for the independent ones as well.
"I'll stick with Nathan." Buck retorted, unwilling to concede any point yet.
"Well," Vin looked at the others with a faint smile. "You can't teach an old dog new tricks."
Nathan Jackson knew he should have left the village sooner than when he had for he could see the sun disappearing beneath the horizon. Once he had arrived at the farm, he had discovered that his services was sorely needed by a number of families in the surrounding properties and they had gathered to have him look at a variety of ills. It was within his ability to help some of them but there were cases where he was forced to recommend a trip to Eagle Bend where a proper doctor could make an accurate judgement. Nevertheless, Nathan did what he could and appreciate the gratitude he received in return.
Sometimes, he wished he had the formal qualifications to go with the ability but understood that it was a reality impossible in this day and age. When he had escaped from the plantation to join the Yankee Army, Nathan's only concern was the emancipation of his people. He knew that most northerners did not like Negroes any better than southerners but at least in the north, a man did not have to live with year of slavery. It was almost providence that he found himself at a field hospital for the duration of the war and those years had opened up possibilities he never imagined.
He watched the doctors and nurses going about their duties, mending broken bones and torn bodies, trying to make a man from the patchwork of blood and flesh. Nathan had observed and learned, knowing thinking for a moment that he would be called on for a practical application in the years after. There days, he received very little monetary payment for the service he did performed but what he did receive, he saved diligently. Someday, he would finally have enough to buy a parcel of land and then he would marry Rain. Nathan had met Rain when the seven had originally come to protect he Seminole village from which she hailed. Ever since then, he made fortnightly trips to the place, sometimes in between as well, to visit the beautiful young woman and check up on the progress of the village.
Despite his relief that Four Corners was finally getting the services of a qualified medical doctor, Nathan could not deny the apprehension he felt as well. After almost getting lynched by a drunk mob of men who held him responsible for the comrade he had been unable to save, Nathan knew that there were some things that were beyond his ability to prevent. As much as he was knew, Nathan had to admit that there was a lot he did not know about medicine and he was unwilling to gamble with anyone's life to prove otherwise. While there was an illogical fear of becoming obsolete with the arrival of the new doctor, Nathan knew better than to submit to such nonsense. The area was populated enough to support to doctors and how many times had Nathan been run ragged because he was juggling the physical welfare of everyone on his solitary shoulders? No, he was not threatened by the arrival of the new doctor, not at all.
Nathan continued riding into the darkness, feeling the aches in his tired muscles becoming more acute the closer he reached Four Corners. He wondered if there was any trouble today but dismissed the notion quickly enough. Chris would not doubt have the situation well in hand if there were any problems. If anything, the gunslinger was able to get astonishing results from the most unlikely people.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of horses in the distance. The immediate area was well shrouded by trees and Nathan reached for the rifle slung neatly in its pouch on his saddle just to be safe. His eyes scanned the area, trying to see where the sound had come. As he progressed deeper into the wooded area, Nathan wondered if it might not be wise for him to take an alternate route. He had chosen this path because it would take some hours off the journey but he did not want to get himself killed either by getting ambushed. Suddenly, he wished the others were with him.
Nathan was still wrestling with the idea of turning back when he arrived at a clearing. There were men waiting there on horseback. Through the darkness, he counted at least four. It was too dark to see their faces and that alarmed him. They bared the path ahead and somehow, he instinctively knew they were waiting for him. He just did not know why.
"Good evening." Nathan said warily.
"Good evening nigger." The man replied derisively.
The word stung but Nathan was not fool. This man was trying to provoke him into doing something rash. He said nothing as he thought quickly about what to do. "I don't want any trouble." He said calmly, slowly forcing his horse backwards.
"Too bad nigger," the man raised his weapon. "You got it."
Without any warning, he pointed his gun at Nathan and fired. He kept firing until he emptied the entire chamber into Nathan Jackson. The healer was knocked off his horse by the time the second bullet had reached him. The horse produced a startled neigh and bolted into the dark. The last thing that Nathan was aware of before the pain took him was the man looking down at him dispassionately.
"The others are going to be harder."