FEEDBACK: Yes Please! -- HistoryWillKnowTheSeven@hotmail.com (Don't forget to tell me which story you read - Thanks)
RATING: PG-13
UNIVERSE: Old West (The Original and Still the Best)
SERIES: History Will Know The Seven
PREVIOUS STORIES: #1 The South Wind; #2 Confidantes and Confidences; #3 Forsaken
SPOILERS: - There are numerous references to events in The South Wind' and 'Forsaken' in this story. I'm also assuming that you know about Buck's marriage proposal from 'Serpents'. If you're following the series, you're probably catching on by now. While the individual plots are mostly independent of one another, the stories are all related in some very interesting ways, after all that's why they call it a series.
ARCHIVE: Yes, but ask first please.
DISCLAIMER: If only wishes did come true... Reality is harsh.
John Watson and CBS own The Magnificent Seven and all of its characters. I seek, nor shall receive, profit from this narrative.
WRITER'S NOTES: — May be found at the beginning of the story.
Standing in the open doorway, Charles Warner noted the empty bed. "I see you've already sent the young man home."
Nathan looked up from his packing. "Morning, Doctor Warner. Come on in," he met Charles half way and shook his hand. "Can I offer you some coffee?"
"Oh, no thank you, Mr. Jackson. I had plenty at the restaurant... My wife is busy packing the items that she retrieved yesterday, so I thought I'd come on over and talk to you about this case of yours."
The healer chuckled, "Didn't quite think of James as a case," he offered the doctor a seat in his big chair.
Making himself comfortable, Charles Warner smiled. "No... I suppose that's a word we doctors use to prevent ourselves from becoming too involved with our patients." He watched Nathan as he pulled over a chair and sat down. "And you, Mr. Jackson are a man who can not detach yourself from those that you heal."
Nathan smirked and raised his eyebrows. "No... don't suppose I'm much good at that."
"And I don't use the term 'heal' lightly, Mr. Jackson. The scars on the boy's leg will fade over time. And, maybe I might have been able to do a nicer job, with the right equipment..."
"I just did the..." Nathan tried to interrupt.
But Charles Warner was not accepting back talk today. He interrupted right back, "Let me finish, Mr. Jackson."
The healer nodded his head and looked at the man intently.
"Maybe I might have been able to do a nicer job, with the right equipment... and maybe not. But that's not the important point, Mr. Jackson." He sat forward in the chair and looked at Nathan. "You saved that boy's life, Mr. Jackson, as well as the leg." Looking around the room he grinned. "And on top of those two, very important facts... you did it here, in this working environment."
With a nod of his head, Nathan again acknowledged what the doctor was saying.
"Take it from me, Mr. Jackson. Being here... under these conditions." He again motioned to the clinic. "Even the best of qualified practitioners might not have been able to accomplish what you did with that boy... And with many others, I'm sure."
As the impact of the doctor's words hit home, Nathan cleared his throat and lowered his head. He had always felt grateful, each and every day, for the skill that had been put in his hands. But this kind of recognition coming from a qualified doctor, was more than he had ever expected.
"If you ever need a reference, Mr. Jackson. I'd be happy to offer mine."
Nathan nodded his head slowly. Looking back into the doctor's eyes he smiled sincerely. "Thank you, Doctor Warner." He offered his hand, "Thank you."
Shaking the offered hand again, Charles slapped the healer on the shoulder. "Now," he changed the subject. "I'd like to take a look at the reference text you used when you initiated the draining technique that you spoke of yesterday."
"Oh, yes, sir," Nathan replied, getting to his feet. He walked to the small collection of books that he had on his desk and returned with the largest. Handing the text to Charles he sat back down.
Warner immediately recognized the book. "Where on earth did you obtain this manual, Mr. Jackson. This book has only been available for... perhaps four months. And here, out west... At the moment, it can only be found in some limited surgical facilities."
Nathan was indeed surprised by the declaration. "Came from New York City," he replied slowly.
"You have friends in influential circles then?"
Nathan shook is head, "No, sir... don't quite know who it came from actually."
Charles frowned, "But it came to you?"
"Yes, sir... My name's inscribed inside the back cover."
Flipping the manual over, Charles Warner read the gold lettering he found inside the hardbound manual.
~~ Doctor Nathan Jackson
Four Corners, New Mexico ~~
"Well, that certainly appears to for you, " he acknowledged. Looking at the healer again he smiled. "But you still don't know who send it to you?"
"No, sir... Only clue there is, is the writing inside the front cover. But I ain't figured that out neither."
Turning the book once again, Charles opened it to the front cover page and read the eight words printed there in an elegant handwriting script.
~~ Thank You
for the life of my niece ~~
Charles smiled and raised his eyebrows. "As I just said, Mr. Jackson. It appears that you have saved many lives during your residence here." Closing the book he moved his hand over its cover. "I envy you your associations, sir."
As he looked about the room once more, Doctor Warner's eyes came to rest on the healer. "Never lose your love of life, Mr. Jackson... it's the one thing that will empower you in your quest to save lives." Doctor Warner handed the manual back to Nathan and smiled again. "And Mrs. Watson is correct. You don't need a piece of paper on the wall to prove that you deserve the respect of a doctor. There is one thing that all doctors have in common, and that's our gift to heal. And on those terms alone, Nathan Jackson, you merit at least an honorary title. Whoever your friend is in New York, I think he acknowledged that, the day he sent you that reference text."
At a serious loss for words, the healer just sat and gazed at the doctor before him. He smiled and nodded in agreement. Deep down, Nathan knew that he understood what the man was saying. Deep down, Nathan could not deny that Doctor Charles Warner had acknowledged his skill and, all but called him an equal.
"Telegram for Mrs. Warner. Mrs. Karen Warner," Walt Simpson announced to the small gathering outside the stagecoach office. Like most of the townsfolk, Mr. Simpson knew Joseph Langdon's older daughter was in town. And like most, he knew that the Warners were leaving on the noon stage.
Mrs. and Mrs. Warner were standing on the board talking with Ezra Standish when Karen heard her name being called. The surprised look on her face was matched by that of her husband.
"Over here, Mr. Simpson," the gambler summoned with his hand.
Walt ventured over to the trio, "Mrs. Warner?" he questioned the lady present.
"Yes."
"Telegram from San Francisco, ma'am," Walt handed the lady a slip of paper.
"Thank you."
Mr. Simpson nodded, "Ma'am." He quickly departed.
Karen looked at her husband questioningly as she unfolded the paper and read it.
"It's from Johnson and Brown."
"The law firm handling Joseph's estate," Ezra said matter-of-factly. He'd received a few documents from them himself.
Charles Warner nodded in acknowledgement as he waited for his wife to complete her perusal of the telegram.
"It would appear that you will be having company within a few days, Mr. Standish," Karen finally spoke.
"Miss Langdon will be arriving sooner than expected?"
"No," Mrs. Warner handed the paper to her husband. "It seem as though Katrina has requested an examination of the property be completed prior to her arrival. A surveyor has already been dispatched from Denver, and should be arriving shortly."
"Your sister appears quite thorough in this endeavor," the gambler said thoughtfully. This was perhaps something Ezra himself, might request, if he were ever fortunate enough to be willed such a sizable estate.
Doctor Warner shook his head. "Sounds to me like she's already plotting something."
"Oh, please, Charles." Karen protested. "At some point in all of this, we have to believe in her."
"Excuse me for saying so, Mrs. Warner," the southerner interrupted. "But your father must have had some reason for leaving his ranch to your sister. At dinner last night, you yourself said that she might be up to the task."
"I was trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, Mr. Standish."
Charles huffed. "And with Katrina, Mr. Standish... there is always doubt."
"Alright, ladies and gents," the stagecoach driver announced in a loud voice. "Stage is leavin' shortly. Let's get aboard."
Noting the driver and his words, Mr. Warner looked back at Ezra and smiled. "Time to go home, my dear," he voiced to his wife as he smiled at her too.
As several other passengers began to board the coach, Karen held her hand out towards Ezra. "Thank you for all that you have done, Mr. Standish. And thank you for being such a good friend to my father."
The gambler gently kissed the lady's hand. "Joseph Langdon was a good man, Mrs. Warner. It was my greatest pleasure to have known him, and it is my honor to accommodate his last wishes." Letting go of the lady's hand, Ezra turned to Charles and offered his hand to the doctor.
Shaking hands, Charles spoke strongly, "I have no doubts that Joseph chose the right man for the job, Mr. Standish. Thank you again for taking care of things."
The gambler tipped his hat as Doctor Warner took his wife's hand. Assisting her into the coach, he followed her aboard and sat beside the door.
Seeing that his companions were comfortably in their seats, Ezra approached the small window. "I do hope that you have a safe trip back to San Fransisco, Mr. and Mrs. Warner... One last question though, if I may."
"Thank you, Mr. Standish." Charles acknowledged the pleasantry. "And your question?"
"Seeing as you are unable to inform me as to when Miss Langdon will arrive..."
Leaning over her husband, Karen smiled. "I'm afraid Katrina runs on her own schedule, Mr. Standish. She'll arrive, when she arrives,"
Returning the smile, the gambler continued, "And as we are unable to identify that exact moment in time, might I trouble you to describe Miss Warner, so that I may recognize her when she does grace us with her presence."
Closing the stage door, the driver tapped it to insure its tightness before climbing aboard the rig.
Having watched the driver do his job, Charles returned his attention back to Ezra. He offered a gentle laugh and a sly smile. "'Grace you with her presence', may not... be the words you want to use, Mr. Standish. And no description will be necessary when the time is at hand. When Katrina arrives... the whole town will know it."
"Next stop, Watsonville," the driver called out as he released the break and set the rig in motion.
Several other people waved as the stage departed, while Ezra Standish stood and watched quietly. Unsure of exactly what Charles Warner had meant by his last comment, the gambler wondered if the words were offered in jest or if they were, in fact, the doctor's version of a warning.
Seating himself beside the tracker, Larabee offered a greeting following a few long seconds of silence. "Afternoon, Vin."
Tanner fingered the hat on his head and lifted the brim to reveal his eyes. Yet his baby blue orbs weren't focused on Larabee, they continued to stare straight ahead. There was another minute of silence before he spoke. "Was wonderin' when you was gonna say somethin'. You been watchin' me since lunch."
Chris lowered his head in a moment of acknowledgement. They had indeed known of each other's presence since the gunslinger appeared on the jailhouse porch an hour earlier. The blond had sat in silence and watched the reclusive tracker hiding behind his hat. Chris thought on the preacher's words from the night before, and realized that they were true. Larabee had been so busy comforting Mary Travis since her ordeal that he had failed to see the mood Tanner could sometimes be found in lately. "You wanna take a ride?"
Another long pause preceded Vin's words. "Reckon Josiah would be a little... upset if I headed out right about now."
Chris glanced at the sharpshooter questioningly.
Vin just stared out into the street. "'Course, I'd be with you... so he might not follow me this time."
Chris couldn't help but wonder about what Vin was implying, but he also didn't want to be distracted from the conversation he was planning on having. "Thought maybe we'd ride on out ta my place and come back tomorrow."
There was yet another long pause.
Larabee stood up and stared at the hat that occupied his best friend head. "Meet you at the livery... say, in about an hour?"
Staring at the gunslinger's knees, Tanner couldn't help but admire the tenacity that Chris exhibited when he was on task. Pursing his lips, Vin just nodded his head, then watched in silence as the black jeans in front of him slowly turned and walked away.
Five heads turn to look at the door to the Clarion News as it swung open. Ezra Standish was surprised to see so many lovely women staring back at him. He closed the door and walked over to Mary's desk. "You do have me completely at a loss, Mrs. Travis." Looking around at the gathered women, he tipped his hat. "Good afternoon, ladies."
"You're not supposed to ask any questions, Mr. Standish," the newspaperwoman replied.
The gambler removed his hat. "Yes, ma'am, but you did request that I advise you of an opportunity, and I believe it will be upon you tonight."
Mary glanced at the other ladies excitedly, "That soon?" she questioned Ezra.
Standish gazed at the ladies, "May I speak freely?"
Mary smiled. "Everyone here knows, Mr. Standish."
The gambler raised an eyebrow. "Then perhaps I should be availed of some more detail so that I may assist in a greater capacity."
"Ain't gonna happen, son," Nettie Wells said happily.
Ezra looked at the widow curiously, and smiled. "I see... well, yes," he cleared his throat.
"Why is it that tonight would be a good choice, Senor Ezra?"
Glancing at Inez, before refocusing on Mary, the southerner continued. "As you are aware, Mr. Jackson has departed in search of his lovely Miss Rain."
Several heads nodded.
"In addition to that departure, Mr. Larabee has just informed his remaining associates that he, and Mr. Tanner, will be out of town until noon tomorrow."
"That sounds like the opportunity you have been waiting for, Mary." Miriam Thatcher acknowledged.
"Yes," she agreed apprehensively, "But we'll need to work fast." Glancing around at the group, her eyes once again, came to rest on the gambler. "Can you arrange to keep the other three busy, Mr. Standish? Around... 9 p.m. perhaps?"
The southerner furrowed his brow. "This would be a great deal easier, if you could explain your intentions, Mrs. Travis."
Taking hold of Ezra's arm, Mrs. Wells answered for Mary, "I told ya, Mr. Standish... it ain't gonna happen." Walking him to the door, she continued, "Now you'd best get ta plannin' if'n yous gonna distract them boys tonight."
Glancing at the ladies one more time, the gambler replaced his hat, "Yes, of course," he said flatly. Admitting defeat wasn't easy for the southerner, but he regretfully accepted that he would get no more information out of the gathered women. "Good day, ladies," he tipped his hat and departed.
"I kinda like the way you put that, Aunt Nettie," Casey Wells spoke up. "Makes it sound like we's doin' somethin' excitin'."
"We are child," Nettie replied. "Thanksgiving is observed so that we can give thanks for the precious things we have in life. And it's about time this town observed that custom properly."
"And we have a week before this is to happen?" Inez questioned. Although familiar with the traditional holiday, it was not one she had yet experienced herself.
"Two, actually," Miriam Thatcher corrected. "Fourteen days," she looked at Mary expectantly, "I hope that is enough time to complete your plans."
"You have friends in high places. No?" Miss Recillos asked honestly.
"Orin has been a wonderful help. He believes in this strongly too. Now all we have to do is inform the town council tonight."
Getting down to business, Nettie set the tone. "So who exactly do we need to speak to before the council convenes."
Mary pulled her chair out and sat down. Gathering a pen and paper, she began to write. "We need to get as many of the petitioners there as possible. Let's make a list and split up," she suggested.
Four heads nodded in agreement, and the ladies set their plan in motion.
"You wanted ta see me, Chris?"
Larabee glanced up at Sanchez as he secured his saddlebag. There was a moment of silence. "You been followin' Vin around, Josiah?" The curiosity was clear in the gunslinger's tone.
The preacher lowered his head, trying to think on his feet. He cocked his head, "Let's just say that a little bird told me ta keep an eye on him. Not to let him wander too far until the time was right."
The gunslinger turned to look at Sanchez, "A little bird?"
The preacher only smiled.
Vin broke the silence. "With Nathan gone, and us... Should we be leavin' town?"
Larabee turned to see the tracker behind him. His horse trailed close behind. Turning to gather his own reins, the gunslinger mounted up. "Reckon twenty four hours won't make much difference."
A flash crossed Tanner's mind and he lowered his head.
Chris too dipped his head as he read the recollection in Tanner's thoughts. Slowly Larabee lifted his hazel-green eyes to meet Vin's sky blue reflections. They looked at one another for several long seconds before Tanner's gaze shifted. He climbed on his horse aimed it towards the end of town.
"Reckon that boy's got a whole lot 'a somethin' on his mind," Josiah said from the porch. Looking thoughtfully at his leader, the preacher continued. "See what you can see, Chris... but don't push him none."
The blond looked at Sanchez curiously again.
The preacher looked Larabee in the eye and smiled. "Maybe I got myself one of them feelin's 'a yours," he shrugged. "Maybe intuition... But I do know there'll be someone else who's gonna see ta 'im sometime soon... And I think I might know someone who knows when."
Shaking his head, Larabee's questioning eyes made the preacher smile.
"When I get all the pieces to the puzzle, Chris... You'll be the first ta know."
The gunslinger resigned himself to the fact that Sanchez was talking in riddles and would tell him what he needed to know when the time was right. He tipped his hat to the big man and turned Spirit to follow Vin out of town. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going on though.
"They gone?" JD asked as Sanchez came into the sheriff's office and closed the door.
"Might I suggest that we divide the assignments presently, so that we may know what is expected of us in the next twenty four hours?"
The ladies man huffed. "You can't just never say things straight, can ya Ezra? What's the matter, you got a game goin' on tanight?"
"Actually, no, Mr. Wilmington. I just thought perhaps it would alleviate any potential bickering."
"Bickering... we don't..."
"Ezra's right, Buck," the preacher interrupted. "Sooner we lay out a new schedule, the sooner we can get back ta what we was doin."
Dunne sat forward in his chair, "Well I'm supposed ta take the night shift, but Chris was supposed ta do the rounds tonight."
Buck glanced at Josiah, "Well, I can do that. Don't make much difference ta me."
"No scheduled rendezvous' this evening, Mr. Wilmington?"
The ladies man got to his feet and walked around the seated southerner. "I reckon it... ain't fittin' for a man to indulge... all the time," he announced seriously.
"Dry spell," the kid laughed.
"NO," came Buck replied forcefully before calming his voice. "Just being sensitive to the needs of others, is all."
"It would appear that, Mr. Wilmington has the same reasoning no matter which side the preverbal coin lands on."
The ladies man offered a stern look to JD and Ezra as they enjoyed themselves at his expense. "I'll be taking the night patrol, Josiah," Buck miffed. Opening the door, he continued, "But I ain't gonna take no more funnin'." His comments were concluded as the door slammed behind him.
Sanchez laughed quietly to himself. "Alright, Ezra... seeing as how you didn't volunteer fer anythin', suppose you can have the night off."
Standish got to his feet. "After I have completed the afternoon patrol, of course." He headed for the door.
"And you'd best get yerself some rest too, John Dunne. 9 PM will come soon enough."
Ezra made a conscious note of the time Sanchez expected the kid to return. Knowing this was going to cause a problem in his plans, he departed quickly to make alternate arrangements.
"Yeah, you're right," JD noted as he watched Standish leave." He got to his feet and walked towards the door. "Everything's gonna be quiet this time... right?"
The preacher's gaze settled on the young man in front of him. There was little doubt in his mind what the kid was thinking about, and there was also little doubt that the worst of times rarely happened to the same folks twice under the same circumstances. "It'll be just like in September when we split up ta deliver that prisoner. Everythin's gonna be just fine, JD."
The kid nodded resoundingly, smiled and walked out of the office door.
The ladies man sat outside the sheriff's office and watched his favorite kind of wild life move up and down the street. Main Street seemed to have an over abundance of female activity this afternoon, and Buck gazed upon the scene curiously
"Somethin' must be mighty interesting to hold your attention like that," Sanchez questioned as he sat down beside his fellow lawman.
'Well, if you can make sense of it, be my guest."
The preacher frowned and looked about.
Noticing that Josiah didn't see what he did, Buck tried to make it a little easier. "Look over there," he indicated across the street.
"Miss Inez seems to be in her usual friendly mood," the preacher noted as he watched Miss Recillos speaking with Donald Granger and his assistant. The two men nodded to the lovely lady and went on their way.
'Yeah, but watch..."
Sanchez frowned again then returned his gaze to Inez. He watched her looking around the street, then his eyes followed her as she made her way to the Hardware Store and greeted Virgil Watson.
They spoke for several minutes before Mr. Watson called to Bernard Allen as he came out of the post office. Another conversation ensued before Mr. Allen glanced over at the peacekeepers on the porch. Quickly realizing that they were being watched, he hid his face and quite obviously informed his companions of the observation they were under. The trio quickly said their good-byes and went their separate ways.
"What do ya make of that?" Wilmington asked.
Josiah glanced at the ladies man and smiled. "You been acting like a lawman too long, Buck. Polite conversation among townsfolk ain't nothing ta get suspicious about." Another look in Wilmington's direction, and the preacher knew that his friend was now focused on something else. He followed the gaze and found himself watching Mary Travis talking with Gloria Potter outside the general store. "Ain't nothing unusual about Mrs. Travis and Mrs. Potter talkin', Buck. They do it most every day."
Still there was no answer, and Sanchez watched the ladies man as he gained his feet and looked towards the other end of town.
There were a few moments of silence before Buck spoke. "And how many times in an average day do you think Nettie Wells has the need to talk to Hiram Nechaus and Hans Heidegger?" The ladies man turned back to Sanchez and raised his eyebrows.
Josiah turned to look down the street. He knew that Mr. Nechaus didn't spend much time in town these days. Since the death of his wife, he'd stayed away from Four Corners as much as possible. And seeing that JD had been cleared of any wrongdoing in Annie's death, Hiram had little, if anything, to do with the seven peacekeepers. He also did his best to avoid anyone who associated with them as well. Yet there he was, talking with Nettie Wells. "Seems to be quite a discussion they's havin'," the preacher noted the body language and hand gestures.
"Don't suppose Hiram's ever gonna see that it was an accident."
Josiah lowered his head. "If you were in his shoes, Buck... you'd have a hard time with it too."
The ladies man nodded and tried to refocus. "So ya see what I mean, Josiah. Them women folks are up ta somethin'... I just know it."
"Well, Buck... I'll have ta trust yer judgement on that one. Ain't another man in this town that could contest your closeness with the ladies. Now if you could just get inside their heads instead of their..."
"Good day, Mr. Sanchez," Miriam Thatcher quickly blurted out before her ears heard too much.
The preacher jumped to his feet and tried his best to distract the older woman from anything that she might have heard. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Thatcher. Is there something that we can do for you?"
Buck too had straightened his stance at the unexpected arrival of the lady. "Ma'am," he tipped his hat as she glanced his way.
"I was wondering if you gentlemen would be able to assist me," she questioned as she moved through the door into their office.
Sanchez and Wilmington looked at each other curiously before following the woman inside.
Racking his brain was not something Ezra Standish had been required to do of late. Even that little con he'd successfully pulled off in Ridge City two months ago hadn't been too hard to accomplish. But only Nathan and Vin had be unknowing participants that time. Now Mary Travis was asking him to distract all of his associates. Only in this way could none of them participate in the special town meeting that she was secretly calling. And the fact that Standish was on his honor to neither tell about, nor attend the meeting, made the southerner even more suspicious.
As he rode back into town from his patrol of the neighboring homesteads, the gambler had resigned himself to the fact that he could not keep Sanchez and Dunne occupied sufficiently. Especially since Josiah would most likely be at the church in the evening. And as the town meetings were always held at the grain exchange, right next door, he would most certainly be alerted to its happening.
Spotting Casey Wells speaking with Virginia Elliot, Standish reined in his mount and walked on over to the young women. The gambler had clear admiration for Virginia. He knew how much tenacity it took for her to staying active in town after the imprisonment of her father for Steven Travis' murder. Both Mother and daughter had strong constitutions. The friendship Casey and Nettie Wells had shown them was refreshing and even Mary Travis held no ill will towards the two women.
"Good afternoon, ladies," the southerner greeted.
Both women acknowledged the greeting with smiles.
"Ah, Miss Wells... I wonder if I might have a word with you," Standish said coyly as he dismounted. Trying not to be too obvious, he motioned for her to leave her current conversation and join him at the end of the walk.
Casey and Virginia completed their pleasantries and parted company. Miss Wells quickly joined he gambler and spoke quietly. "What is it Ezra... things ain't goin' as planned."
"Your recognition of the predicament is quite accurate, Miss Wells. I believe I am in need of your assistance. And given the fact that your Aunt is... as outspoken as she is... I feel your absence at tonight's assembly would be acceptable under the circumstances."
"What?"
Checking for prying eyes or ears, Standish looked at the young lady again. "You are not as needed at the council meeting as your Aunt, so I believe your absence will not be missed if you are otherwise occupied distracting Mr. Dunne."
"You want me ta keep JD busy tonight?"
Standish smiled. "Yes."
"Well, why the heck didn't ya just say so, Ezra?"
Shaking his head slightly, the southerner continued. "Mr. Wilmington would not normally depart for his patrol until around 9 PM. I will be informing him shortly of a perceived problem at the Hillard property. This should sufficiently speed up his departure."
"What do ya need me ta do?"
"I thought perhaps, you could think of a way to distract Mr. Dunne through the evening. A nice dinner perhaps..."
Casey smiled. Holding out her hand she asked her question matter-of-factly. "And you's puttin' up some money towards this dinner?"
Reaching into his pocket, the southerner pulled out some notes and reluctantly handed them to Miss Wells. "Might I suggest that you cap off the evening with a ride in the moonlight afterwards. I believe this would suffice in extracting Mr. Dunne from this location and divert his attentions elsewhere."
With hands on her hips, the young woman scowled. "I hope you ain't implying nothin' by that," she objected sternly.
"Why, of course not, Miss Wells... I was merely suggesting ideas along those lines."
Casey's momentary anger mellowed as she thought on the possibilities of spending an evening with JD. "How long's I gotta keep him busy?"
"His requirement is to serve on night shift this evening. Mr. Sanchez is expecting him at nine..."
"But that's when the meeting..."
"Exactly my point, Miss Wells. If the... changing of the guard... happens as scheduled, then there is a strong possibility that both Mr. Dunne and Mr. Sanchez will be alerted to the assembly."
"So what you gonna do?"
"If you can keep Mr. Dunne occupied until 10 PM, I will arrive at the office and notify Mr. Sanchez, with Mr. Dunne's apology, of course, that he will be an hour late."
'You think Josiah will buy that?"
"I... have sufficient topics of interest to keep Mr. Sanchez occupied for the time necessary."
"Better him than me," Casey muttered to herself.
Standish raised his eyebrows at the comment, but let it slip off his shoulders. "Do you think you can occupy Mr. Dunne sufficiently, Miss Wells?"
Casey smiled to herself, "Yeah, I think I can manage that."
As he studied the gentle smile that grew on the young woman's lips, Ezra could imagine the thoughts going through her head. "Good," he voiced happily. "Then I shall inform Mrs. Travis to await my signal before she initiates the assemblage."
Reaching for his horse, Standish smiled at the woman still lost in thought, "Good evening, Miss Wells."
Casey barely noticed the gambler's departure. She was too busy thinking about the things that she could do to occupy some time with a certain JD Dunne.
Larabee had spent most of the afternoon sitting on his porch... trying to read. Outwardly he appeared to be concentrating on his novel. On the inside however, he was concerned. Two and a half years ago he had met this longhaired, reclusive sharpshooter and they had become fast friends. Somehow they shared an unquestionable, unexplainable bond. Yet there were things, Chris still didn't understand about the younger man. And this was clearly evident as different reasons for Tanner's mood crept in and out of the gunslinger's mind.
Chris didn't know exactly what was bothering Vin, but he did know that a little time away from Four Corners was usually enough to calm his friend. Or at least get him back to being the tracker they all knew. The blond could only hope that this was the case today.
Tanner appeared to have been occupied most of the afternoon. Few words had been spoken after the pair had arrived at Larabee's shack. Vin had wandered a few hundred feet away from the little porch. He sat down underneath the big old tree that grew there and from what Larabee could observe, appeared to be attempting to cipher something. Much time had passed before the tracker either grew tired of sitting or frustrated with his scribing. Tanner had spent more than two hours just walking in the wide-open spaces around the tiny cabin.
Brushing the wild grasses with his hands as he moved about, Vin was a spectacle to see. Even Chris could appreciate how 'at peace' the tracker appeared as he walked in the tall grass, with the gentle breeze calming his thoughts. As the gunslinger had watched, it seemed that the wind might actually be talking to his best friend. A soft, warm, inviting smile had crossed Larabee's lips. An expression that had long since been absent from his face.
Finally, when Vin had grown tired of walking, he went to soak his feet in the stream that ran out-back of the Larabee residence. Chris caught sight of his barefooted friend walking over to the corral, and he couldn't help but grin again. He knew that the tracker had spent the afternoon doing one, very important thing. Tanner had breathed in the clean, fresh, unoccupied air that he loved so much.
Setting his book down, Larabee got to his feet. He secretly hoped that this afternoon would be all that the tracker needed to get back to being himself again. "You gonna stay out there all night too?" the gunslinger called to his best friend. As he watched Tanner with his horse, Chris bowed his head. He glanced back at the other man and nodded gently. Only a man such as Vin would give such a profound name to his horse.
Tanner smiled at Serenity and patted him on the head. "That man's gonna worry himself sick, if you don't talk me outta this mood," he whispered to his horse.
He received a loud snort in reply.
The tracker smirked again and slipped the gelding the sweet grass he held in his hand. "I know... he's only tryin' 'a help." Turning to look at Chris, he waved. "But... he can't give me what I want..." Vin whispered slowly.
Larabee saw Tanner pick up his boots and head toward the shack. He smiled again before going inside to make them some supper. The sun was low on the horizon, and as was common for this time of year, there was already a hint of chill in the air.
The tracker's boots landed inside the open door and Chris looked up from the kindling he had just lit. He heard Vin's chair squeak as he pushed it back on two legs. The gunslinger grinned before busying himself warming some supper.
Tanner sat on the porch until Chris called him inside for the meal. He slipped his socks and boots back on before joining Larabee at the table, but said very little as they ate.
After dinner, the gunslinger cleared away the pots and dishes and cleaned them while Tanner fixed up the fire and lit the lantern. Bring another load of wood inside, Vin piled it neatly in the corner as Larabee put away the dishes. Hauling two mugs out from the small cupboard, Tanner poured two cups of coffee and waited at the table for his friend to join him.
Chris could see that Tanner was a million miles away as he sat down at the table. Vin was staring at his coffee cup, but he couldn't see it. He caressed the brim of the mug with his fingers, yet he couldn't feel it in his hands. "Where are you, Vin?" Larabee whispered.
Realization came to Tanner slowly. He glanced at Chris momentarily before taking a deep breath. Recognizing that he'd been caught daydreaming, Vin only smiled before bowing his head.
Silence between these two men normally spoke as much to their understanding as a thousand words might to others. Yet in the long silence preceding the trackers question, Chris couldn't comprehend any meaning. He sipped at his coffee and waited patiently.
Raising his head to look into the eyes of his best friend, the tracker's face showed no emotion. "How'd ya know... Sarah was the one for you?" he asked quietly.
Standish stood in the growing shadows and watched as a young man and a young woman walked to their horses and rode out of town. Casey had called Ezra over as the couple exited the restaurant and, as planned, she had requested that he let Josiah know that JD would be late for his duty shift that evening. It wasn't until he caught the look in his young lady's eye, that Dunne had quit protesting and agreed to go for a quiet ride in the clean, cool night air. Cold or not, Casey had insisted that she'd keep JD warm.
Pulling the pocket watch from his vest, the gambler noted the time and looked around before spotting Buck heading down the street towards him. "Good evening, Mr. Wilmington," he greeted cordially.
"Hey, Ezra," the ladies man replied happily. Stopping in front of the southerner he frowned. "So tell me again where these men were"
Standish smiled as they walked towards the livery. "The men were camped out on the west side of Clarence Hilliard's property."
"By the stream?"
"Yes, Mr. Wilmington, where the main road and the stream intersect. I informed them that they were occupying private property and advised them to be gone by sundown."
"Alright, Ezra," Buck nodded as they arrived at the livery. "I'll ride out and make sure they're gonna."
"Your unwavering optimism towards your duty is a credit to your name, Mr. Wilmington." Standish commented as he turned to leave.
"Yeah," Buck huffed. "You can carve that on my tombstone."
Ezra frowned. "No time soon... I hope." Smiling as Buck shrugged off the remark and began to saddle his horse, the gambler turned towards the jail and retreated back into the shadows.
As Standish waited for Buck to ride out of town, he observed several townsfolk glancing out of their windows. He knew the time was drawing near and counted down the minutes on his watch. Finally, he spotted the ladies man head south out of town and made his way up towards the sheriff's office. Standing outside he waved to Mary Travis as she stepped outside the Clarion.
Mrs. Travis waved back and pulled her shawl around her shoulders before venturing into the street. Her slow march down the center of Main Street would be the signal the townsfolk were waiting for. They would soon be gathering, very quietly, at the grain exchange for the town meeting Mary Travis had called.
Seeing that their plan was working perfectly, the southerner took a deep breath and turned to enter the jailhouse. His final task for the evening would be to distract the remaining peacekeeper on duty. Making his entrance loudly, Standish smiled and closed the door behind him. "Good evening, Mr. Sanchez."
Josiah looked up from the book he was reading and frowned. "Ezra... "
Taking up the seat across from the preacher, Standish smiled. "I have arrived to deliver a message," the gambler began
"Oh?"
"Yes. There will be a delay of approximately one hour, before Mr. Dunne arrived to man his post."
Raising an eyebrow, the big man repeated his query, "Oh?" Setting his book down he leaned forward to hear the excuse he was sure was coming.
The southerner smiled. "Actually... I do believe the ride after dinner was Miss Wells' idea. And I'm sure it took Mr. Dunne more than a few minutes to catch the glint in the young lady's eye."
Having seen the look on Casey Wells' face yesterday, Sanchez could only smile.
Larabee set his cup down and gazed quietly at Vin. There were a million questions Tanner could have chosen to ask and Chris wouldn't have hesitated to answer them. This, on the other hand, was unexpected. The gunslinger couldn't fathom why this particularly query might cross Tanner's mind. "Vin?" the blond said questioningly.
The tracker closed his eyes. "How ya know Sarah was the one?" he repeated again before lowering his head.
Taking a long, deep breath, the gunslinger stood, took a few steps towards the fire and stared at the flames as they flickered about. And as he continued to watch the dances of light he heard a familiar sound...
Sarah Connelly giggled like a schoolgirl as she appeared from the darkness into the circle of light. The campfire her gentleman had thrown together was small, but it would keep them warm in the coolness of the October air. "You gonna make me sit in the dirt Chris Larabee?" she asked coyly.
The young man glanced up from the fire and smiled at the creature before him. He had grown closer to her as the months had passed. And even through the objections of her father, Larabee had spent more and more time with this young lady. His stare drifted back to the flames as his thoughts recalled that fateful day he had first seen his intended.
Quite by chance, the young man had wandered into their peaceful little Oklahoma town several months before. Making his way westward from Indiana, he had happened upon this, the most exquisite example of womanhood that he had ever known. Sarah Connelly made Chris' green eyes sparkle. She had never once backed down to the hell raiser since they'd met. Her quiet, unassuming manner had somehow stolen the fire that once drove Larabee down the long road to anarchy.
She had changed the course of his life with her gentle actions and quiet way. The sound of her voice made his heart flutter and her laughter made him smile more than he knew he ever could. Then, in those quiet, seductive moments when she purred in his ear, his whole body sprang alive with desire. But most of all, Sarah Connelly was a strong woman who's resourcefulness and tenacity surprised her young man to no end.
"Penny for your thoughts," she whispered quietly. A long moment passed with silence. Realizing that she hadn't taken her young man's attention away from the flames, Sarah's smile wavered. "Chris," she called softly. "Chris..."
"Chris," Tanner tried again to gain Larabee's attention.
The gunslinger's stare faltered and he turned back to look at Vin.
"I'm sorry, Chris... I shouldn' 'a asked such a..."
"No," Larabee interrupted his friend as he laid a hand on Tanner's arm and sat back down. Wrapping both hands around his coffee cup, the gunslinger continued. "It's alright, Vin..." Chris looked into the cool blue eyes of his companion and smiled. "It's been almost six years." Closing his eyes briefly, he looked back and continued. "I..."
"You don't gotta..."
Setting his hand on Vin's arm, Chris interrupted once again. "Tanner, would ya shut up and let me talk." Larabee snapped.
The tracker was clearly surprised by the tone in the blond's voice.
The gunslinger tapped the tracker's arm before taking hold of his cup once again. "I think we're friends. Don't you, Vin?"
Tanner nodded his affirmative. "Near as I can figure."
"Well a friend just asked me a question and I'm aimin' ta answer the best I can... if he'd let me get a word in edgewise that it."
That wondrous Tanner smile slowly made its way over the tracker's lips. He nodded his head once again.
Stanley Johnstone tapped the gavel down loudly on the desktop in an attempt to quiet the room full of people. "Order, please," he called out. Repeating the actions several more times, the townspeople stopped chatting amongst themselves and gave him their full attention. "Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."
Mr. Johnstone looked around the room to make sure most people were present. As the head of the town council, he was the closest thing Four Corners had to a mayor, but didn't like that title much. Along with his wife Edith, he ran the bathhouse in town. This qualified him for a seat of the committee, and he had been voted in as chair before he knew it. The other members of the board were all fellow merchants, as required by their charter. Virgil Watson, owner of the hardware store held the first position. Clarence Smith who, along with his brother Daniel, owned the Livery and Feed, was seated next to Stanley. Lewis Sanderson owned and operated the town's restaurant with his wife Emma. Thaddeus Perkins held the final position. He owned and operated the Gem Hotel along with his wife Abigail.
"This is a farce," Hiram Nechaus yelled from the back of the room. "Mary Travis and her pops already done all the handling, we don't got no say in the matter."
"I'm... not so sure Judge Travis would like the new name you have for him," Virgil Watson said loudly.
Andrew Watson stood and cleared his throat. "And as for the arrangements, that have already been made... there were more than a few names on the nomination, Mr. Nechaus," he looked at the man seriously.
"One hundred fifty six, I believe," Martin Haynes added from his seat.
"Well, like I said," Hiram continued. "All these things been decided already. How come we's gotta have a meetin' ta discuss it more."
"Mrs. Travis," Stanley Johnstone called on the newspaperwoman. "Would you care to address the meeting and explain what exactly is happening?"
Mary got to her feet and moved to the front of the room. Turning to look at the assembled crowd, she smiled faintly. "Thank you all for coming this evening. I know it was on short notice, but I only received word from the Judge two days ago." The widow took a deep breath before continuing. "A little more than four weeks ago, one of our friends, and a good neighbor to us all... drew up an application. She spent several days traveling around collecting names for that petition. And then she sent it on to Judge Travis for his endorsement. The Judge added his signature and recommendation to that document and forwarded it to the governor."
Mary looked towards the third row and smiled at the lady she was referring to. Glancing around the room, she continued. "Accompanying that petition were grounds for consideration that some of you," looking around the room, the widow smiled, "offered as justification."
There was a moment of silence before Miss Recillos spoke from her seat. "You will tell everyone what the Judge has said, Mrs. Travis."
The newspaperwoman smiled at Inez, before pulling a telegram from her pocket. She glanced at the waiting audience before reading the words. "From... Orin W. Travis, circuit court Judge, New Mexico Territory. To... The citizens of Four Corners, care of, Mrs. Mary Travis," again the lady looked out at the expectant crowd before continuing. "Your petition, and all accompanying documentation, was passed to the governor of New Mexico three weeks ago. After careful consideration, a decision has been reached. It is my honor to inform you that your petition for recognition has been well received by the governor and his council. A member of his staff will be present on the day requested, so that the award may be bestowed."
The room erupted in cheers and applause, and Mary stood and watched as most people congratulated each other and shook hands.
Sliding down from her horse, Miss Wells ground tied the animal and walked the few small steps to the tree.
"Casey... I like being out here with you and all," Dunne stuttered. "But I gotta get back ta town. Josiah's gonna be mad that I ain't there ta take my shift anyways."
The young woman looked at the man from the tops of her of her eyes and smiled coyly. "Just a little while longer, JD," she replied. Lifting her hand she beckoned him from his horse to come sit down beside her.
The kid looked at his young lady with trepidation. Sanchez had hinted at Casey's thoughts yesterday, and then this evening, she had suddenly asked to have dinner with him. An apology for the way she had acted was her excuse. And now, to top it all off, they were out for a ride in the cool November air when he should be back at the sheriff's office doing his shift. JD didn't know whether to be worried about Casey's intentions or be mad at her for making him late for his responsibilities.
Dunne jumped down from Haven and ground tied him next to the other horse. Looking back at Miss Wells he smiled only slightly when she tapped the spot beside her. "Just fer a bit, Casey. I gotta get back," he reiterated as he stepped closer and sat down.
Knowing that she was on a mission, the young woman turned her back to Dunne and looked up at the night sky. Judging the time by the position of the moon, Casey figured she needed to keep JD busy for a least forty-five minutes before they made the trek back into town. Inching backwards, she leaned into his shoulders for warmth... and comfort.
Feeling the heat from her body, Dunne responded as most men would in the same situation. Wrapping his arms around the woman before he could think about it, JD suddenly realized what he had done. "Eh, sorry," he apologized, and removed his arms.
Retrieving the wayward appendages, Casey looked over her shoulder and smiled. "Don't be silly, JD," she objected. "We can stay warm together."
Not quite knowing where this was going or what might happen next, Dunne stuttered again. "If you's cold, Casey... we should go back ta town. Miss Nettie's gonna wonder where you's at." There was no doubt in his mind that he was nervous at the possibilities available to the couple.
"Aunt Nettie will be busy with Mrs. Benson for a while longer," she turned in JD's arms and cuddled into his shoulder. "And I'm plenty warm sitting here... with you."
Feeling the warmth radiating from her young man, Casey relaxed and the distraction she was supposed to be accomplishing slipped from her mind. Her senses took in the man beside her. The hint of dust and sweat she could smell on his clothes reminded her that he was indeed a man. She could hear the strong beat of his heart in his equally strong chest. Reaching up to caress his face, Casey could feel the stumble on his chin. It was rough, yet there was something about it she liked. It was just another one of those things that made JD so masculine... and attractive.
Slowly, Miss Wells raised her head and looked into the beautiful dark hazel eyes of the man that held her. They remained frozen in each other's stare for the longest time before Casey smiled softly at JD and ran a finger across his lip. There was only one sense that she had not experienced from her man.
Dunne too had lost track of his good intentions. Taking the night shift from Josiah, seemed a lifetime away on JD's list of priorities at the moment. Right now he just wanted to be here with Casey. Right now he just wanted...
There had been too many days and night lately that John Dunne had spent thinking about a certain lady that he kept good company with. She had most certainly become a distraction that he couldn't ignore any longer, yet he didn't quite... know what to do about it. Oh, now Wilmington, of course, had tried to give the kid advice. But JD hadn't managed to tell Buck that he had no previous experience in the art of love... let alone, lovemaking.
But none of that seemed to matter anymore. An instinct was guiding him now. An instinct, which he neither understood, nor questioned, but allowed it to guide him nonetheless. Reaching up to take hold of his lady's hand he returned her smile. Kissing her fingertips before returning her caress, Dunne looked deep into Casey's eyes. Slowly he leaned towards his lady and kissed her.
Chris took another deep breath. There was a pause. "I ain't much fer thinking on things, Vin," Larabee began as he shuffled in his chair. He looked at the sharpshooter and smiled. "Suppose we ain't much different in that..."
Tanner raised his eyebrows. "Most men's the same... near as I can figure."
Chris nodded in agreement. There was a long pause as he thought on his next words. "Suppose women are like most things in life. There's right... and there's wrong."
Tanner looked at his friend questioningly. And as they exchanged looks, the simplicity of Chris' message hit him. "And every man decides what's right... or wrong for himself?" he said quietly.
The gunslinger could only nod his head.
There was another long silence. Nothing new in a room occupied by Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner, but this time there were unanswered questions... and tension too.
The blond downed the last of his coffee and looked at the empty cup. Glancing back at his friend he stared. "You thinkin' about a woman, Vin? Is that what this is all about?"
Vin closed his eyes before bowing his head slightly.
Larabee was beyond curious and tried again to get the tracker to talk. "Ain't seen you around town with no ladies lately."
There was another long silence.
"It ain't proper ta ask..."
"Ask anyways," Chris interrupted quickly. Besides wanting to keep the tracker talking, the gunslinger was more than interested if his best friend was finally showing signs of setting down roots.
More silence.
"Sarah weren't the first..."
There was a long pause as the gunslinger got up to retrieve the coffeepot.
"Or the last..." Tanner concluded.
Larabee took a deep breath and pursed his lips. Moving away from the coffee, Chris reached for the cupboard and retrieved his whiskey. He set it in the middle of the table before heading out the door. Nature was calling the gunslinger, but more importantly, he needed a few minutes alone.
The tracker stared at the whiskey for five long minutes before pouring himself a drink. He filled his friend's mug too before re-corking the bottle. Staring at the liquid in his cup he took a small sip and let it go down slowly.
The door opened and closed. Chris warmed his hands by the fire before taking his seat once again. Taking hold of his cup he swirled the liquid around inside before drinking it. He took in the aroma before setting the cup back on the table. "Well... I was like most young men I suppose... a working girl showed me the ropes."
Like he'd done a thousand times before, Vin smiled weakly and offered his concurrence. He'd pretended to be 'like most young men' so many times, it almost didn't seem like a lie anymore.
Chris sipped on his whiskey some more. "There've been others since," he smiled and cocked his head. "What is it they say... a man has needs," he raised his eyebrows slightly.
Tanner nodded his concurrence once again. Only this time he truly understood what his friend was talking about.
Silence.
"A woman ever make you mad enough... that you wanna hurt her, Chris?"
Larabee stopped, mid sip, and slowly lowered the cup to the table.
Seeing the clear agitation on his best friend's face, Tanner swallowed hard. "I mean, anyone beside Ella Gaines," he quickly added.
Larabee momentarily closed his eyes as he ran his hand across his mouth. Vin's question had hit a nerve, but Ella Gaines hadn't been the woman whose bruised and battered face came to his mind. Chris emptied his cup of its whiskey. He knew he wasn't willing to have that conversation with anyone, any time soon. He tried hard to block out the images that flashed through his mind, and steered the conversation to what Vin expected. "I tried ta kill that bitch, Vin," he growled quietly. "But I'm sorry ta say I didn't hurt her much though... not really."
Judging for himself that Larabee's reaction to the question, and his answer, didn't quite match, the tracker stared at the gunslinger questioningly.
Larabee returned the sharpshooters look with his own. "First you ask me about Sarah... then about my... first... and now women... and anger. I don't understand, Vin."
Tanner swallowed down the last of his whiskey and set the mug down loudly. He began to rub his fingers together and pursed his lips. "I...I don't reckon I do neither," he looked at Chris.
Looking across the table at his friend, the gunslinger was at a loss for words. He understood the mindless working of the fingers as agitation. The tightness of Tanner's lips told Chris that Vin was serious about... something. A sudden wave of compassion hit the blond like a ton of bricks. For the first time in their relationship, Chris felt sympathy for the tracker.
Sanchez glanced across at the gambler. "What's so interestin' out there, Ezra?" he asked. For half an hour the preacher had watched as Standish alternated his attention between his solitaire and the window.
Trying to look uninterested, the gambler smiled. "I was just keeping a watchful eye out for our young Mr. Dunne. I would imagine he should be along shortly."
"Well, if you're so interested, Ezra," Josiah got to his feet, "Why don't you just volunteer to fill in for JD him until he get here. That way I can head to my room and finish my book in peace." Moving towards the door, the preacher raised his eyebrows when Standish stood in his way.
"My dear, Mr. Sanchez. I thought perhaps... there was a question you had... for which only I held the answer."
Josiah frowned.
"Yesterday's conversation, I believe," the gambler tried to remind Sanchez.
Thinking for a minute, the preacher rubbed his chin. "About Vin?"
Standish smiled and motioned the big man towards his chair.
Following the gambler's gesture, Josiah returned to his chair and made himself comfortable. Watching Standish seat himself in the opposite chair, the older man skewed his eyes. "It's not like you ta volunteer information, Ezra. What are you up to?"
"I do believe I am offended by that implication, Mr. Sanchez. As always sir, I am at your service. I would hope that you would know that by now."
Josiah only huffed at the statement. "So," he leaned over the table, "You know what's been botherin' Vin lately."
Ezra took a deep breath, "Well, not exactly, Mr. Sanchez... but I have made an interesting observation over the past four months."
Josiah raised his eyebrows. "Since he got back?"
Standish nodded and smiled. "Yes. Since his return, Mr. Tanner has climbed to the roof of this very building four times," he motioned to the ceiling above their heads.
"Nothin' new in that, Ezra. You know Vin likes ta go up there ta be by himself..."
"Indeed," the gambler agreed. "But each time, it has been to stare at a moonless sky."
Josiah sat back slowly. "The cusp of the new moon?" he questioned.
Nodding, Ezra watched curiously as Josiah breathed deep. The big man retrieved an envelope from his breast pocket and took out the letter in contained.
The preacher scanned the text quickly and found the sentence he had been puzzling over for some three months now.
Keep him close for six cycles before you let him roam free.
Keep him close for 'six cycles'...
Still staring at the letter, he spoke out loud, "The cycle of the moon." Josiah looked up at Ezra, "Four times you said?"
"Only four times that I have observed. Of course, that is only since his return from..." Noticing the growing grin on the preacher's face, Ezra stopped in mid-sentence. "Is this information of some relevance, Mr. Sanchez." Focusing on the letter, the gambler frowned. "From whom might that communication be?"
Taking note of the switch of conversation, Josiah quickly folded the letter back into its envelope and just as quickly replaced it from whence it came. He smiled at Standish, "Yeah, Ezra... you've... filled in a piece of the puzzle, shall we say."
"Would you care to enlighten me, Mr. Sanchez?"
Josiah smiled his broad toothy smile, and Ezra knew instinctively that he would get no further in his questioning. "Then a game of cards before you leave?" he suggested, pulling his trusted deck from his vest pocket.
Pleased with the information that he had received, Sanchez nodded his head. He would indulge the gambler for a while. After all, he owed his fellow peacekeeper a favor, whether the man knew it or not.
"Can I have a show of hands, please" Stanley Johnstone asked of the assembled crowd. "All in favor."
Most of the hands in the room moved into the air, and Virgil Watson stood up to take a count. Several minutes passed before he nodded his completion and gained his seat.
"All opposed."
There was silence in the room as the people either choose not to vote or bowed their heads to hide their eyes from those that did. Virgil Watson wrote a number on his paper.
"Any one abstaining?"
Several hands went up at the back of the room and again, Mr. Watson wrote a number down.
"A moment please," Mr. Johnstone announced before sitting down. The council conferred on the numbers for a minute before Stanley stood back up and quieted the townsfolk again. "Ladies and gentlemen."
The room quickly silenced.
"As the majority of the population has agreed to the public presentation, Mrs. Travis will wire the Judge in the morning, telling him of our concurrence." Stanley looked at Margaret Watson and smiled. "As a matter of public record... let it be known that on that day, the citizens of Four Corners are encouraged to publicly give their thanks to the seven peacekeepers, to whom we owe... our continued way of life."
A small round of applause sounded.
Mr. Johnstone waved the room quiet again. "And also, as a matter of public record... let it be known that on this Thanksgiving Day, the citizens of this community shall bear witness to the presentation of the Governor's Medal of Valor... to those same seven men."
There was another round of applause.
Quieting the crowd, once again, Stanley Johnstone continued. "And with the vote, and proclamation, ladies and gentlemen. I now declare this meeting... adjourned."
"If it's a lesson on women you want, Vin... you come to the wrong man. Reckon Josiah might know a thing or two about..."
"Josiah, ain't in love," Tanner looked at Chris sincerely, "Is he?"
Larabee's eyes widened, "And I am?" he asked just as seriously.
The sharpshooter sat up straight in his chair, "Ain't ya?"
The blond huffed. He understood the tracker's confusion. Truth be told, he was just as bewildered as his friend. Oh, not about his feelings for Mary Travis... he was sure he definitely had an emotional bond with the pretty newspaperwoman. Chris just wasn't sure he could say he was in love with the lady. "It just ain't that easy, Vin."
There was a moment of silence before Tanner spoke, "But it was with Sarah?"
The frustration towards their conversation was beginning to show on Larabee's face. He rubbed his palms together, locked his fingers, and set his chin on the folded hands that waited in front of him. A long moment passed as Larabee slipped in and out of deep thought. Each time he was about to say something, he would take a breath, and then nothing would come out of his mouth.
"The right and wrong?"
The gunslinger laughed a little at the simplicity of the words Tanner spoke. 'Yeah, Vin. Sometimes the right, is so right... that you know it straight away." He smiled across the table at his companion. "Other times... it takes a while."
"And it ain't got nothin' ta do with... how much you want 'em... or if you agree...?"
Larabee took a moment to remember, and a gentle smile creased his lip. "Sarah... I..." The blond bowed his head. "I wanted no other woman... like I wanted my wife... But we had our share of arguments, Vin." Looking back at the tracker, Chris continued. "Oh, she could make me mad..." he laughed a little, "but she only disagreed with me for my own good." Larabee smiled at Tanner. "She was always right."
The tracker could hear the love Chris spoke of in the man's voice. It was clear that Larabee had known the deepest love imaginable, and Vin was envious for just a minute. But as the gunslinger's final words buried themselves in Tanner's consciousness, the smile slowly wavered from his face. "What would you have done, Chris... if she were wrong... wrong for all the wrong reasons?"
Casey Wells broke the embrace that she and JD had held for more than a few minutes. Each time their lips parted, they found themselves trading it for yet another, deeper, more passionate kiss. Looking into Dunne's eyes she drew her hand up to block his next attempted embrace. "JD, I... I."
"Oh, Casey," the kid blurted out, "I didn't mean ta..."
Miss Wells put her hand on the young man's lips and quieted his confessions. "Ain't nothin' we didn't do together, JD," she whispered coyly.
He returned her telling smile.
Glancing up at the sky, Casey judged the time and realized how late it was getting. "I reckon we should... be gettin' back ta town."
Dunne's eyes widen as he realized they'd been out here for quite a while. "Oh yeah," he pulled his arms from around the young woman.
"And Josiah is waitin' on you, ain't he?"
"Oh yeah," Dunne repeated with more urgency. Quickly forgetting their previous activities, the kid gained his feet and ushered Casey over to their horses. "Reckon Josiah's gonna be some mad when we get back," he commented as he helped the woman up before climbing aboard his own mount. "You'd best find Miss Nettie and stay clear."
"Oh, I think Josiah is a forgivin' man, JD. He ain't gonna be too mad at ya." Casey smiled and set her horse in motion.
"I hope not," Dunne called out as he followed the young woman along the trail.
Larabee took in another deep, long breath and released it slowly. He pursed his lips together and leaned on the table to look his friend in the eye once again. "Ain't nothin' Sarah could 'a done ta make me wanna hurt her, Vin."
There was a silence as Tanner studied his leader's eyes. He shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that, Chris."
There was a short pause. "Well, then what did ya mean?" the gunslinger whispered. "None 'a this is makin' much sense, Vin." He poured some more whiskey into his cup and then added more to Tanner's mug.
The sharpshooter nodded his thanks as Larabee leaned back in his chair and sat waiting for an answer that might make at least a little sense.
"I... How can..." Tanner shook his head. "I guess it don't matter..." He took a drink from his cup.
"It matters, Vin... If there's somethin' botherin' ya that much... it matters."
Emptying his mug once again, the tracker stood up and looked at his best friend. He shook his head gently and allowed the corner of his lip to curl. "Reckon I'll be turnin' in now. I'm gonna sleep under the stars."
"Vin..."
"Ma bedroll's outside," he turned for the door and opened it.
"What's got you all tied up in knots, Vin... or is it who..."
There was no emotion on his face as Tanner glanced back at Chris. "Night, cowboy," was all he said before the door closed behind him.
The gunslinger ran a hand through his hair and across his mouth once again. Reaching for his cup he swallowed down the whiskey, and looked at door. "Night, Vin?" he whispered. The worry in his voice had not disappeared.
All seemed quiet as Casey and JD rode back into town. A few people could be seen on the street, and the music coming from the saloon indicated all was in good order over there.
"Night, JD," Miss Wells spoke quietly to her young man as she moved her horse closer to his. Leaning forward she waited.
Realizing that Casey was waiting for a goodnight kiss, the kid looked around nervously. "Someone might see," he whispered.
"So... ain't like it's a crime or somethin'," she smiled.
JD smiled back and checking to see that no one was watching, leaned in and kissed his young lady quickly.
Casey Wells smiled coyly before turning her horse down the main street.
Dunne shook his head and dismounted. Walking Haven to the livery he was surprised to see Yosemite. "Evening," he greeted.
"Evening, Mr. Dunne," the stable man replied. "I'll take care of ya horse, sir."
"Thanks," the kid patted the horse and smiled at the big man. Heading back down the street he noted Casey's horse waiting outside the boarding house where Mrs. Benson now resided.
Stopping outside the jailhouse he took a deep breath and entered.
"Well, well... if it ain't John Dunne come to assume his post."
"Geez, Josiah, I didn't mean ta be so late. We was just... I mean I was just..."
"Ain't no need to explain, JD," the preacher smiled and got to his feet. "You're here now, and that's all that matters."
"Anythin' I should know about?" the kid asked, trying to stay refocused on business.
"Nope," Josiah sighed. "Things been mighty quiet tonight. Buck ain't back from his rounds yet, and I reckon Ezra should be in bed by now."
Dunne frowned, "Ezra... in bed so early?"
Sanchez moved towards the door, but stopped to continue the conversation. "Said somethin' about his tasks bein' completed and too much stress," he shook his head and opened the door. "Who ever knows with Ezra."
JD laughed. "Yeah, maybe one of these days..."
Sanchez cocked his head at the thought. The gambler did seem to be more like them on occasion. Some days more than others, of course. "Maybe," he sighed. "Good night, John Dunne."
"Night, Josiah," the kid called out as the big man closed the door. Frowning at the comments Sanchez and Standish had made, JD shook his head and settle into the chair behind the desk. Looking once more at the closed door, he smiled, pulled a dime novel from the desk draw, and began to read.
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