Disclaimer: All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group, MGM Worldwide. Please note that the character of Amanda in this story draws its inspiration from the short story written by SuLu of the same name.
Tascosa had not changed.
Even though it had been three years since he fled from this community, running from the price of his head, still stinging at his defeat at the hands of Ely Joe, the memory burned itself into his mind. His horse, Peso, seemed to recognize the town as well because the animal's movements were slow and reluctant as if it knew bringing his master back to this town was a mistake. Vin could not disagree with his faithful companion on that assertion but he had made this decision and now that he was riding through the main street of Tascosa, there was little he could do to change his mind.
The seven had become the focus of everyone's attention the moment they entered the town in the heat of the afternoon sun, days after they had set out from Four Corners. As their horses slowed to a light trot, their group felt like they were part of some kind of parade as people stepped out of their doors and shops onto the street, to witness the spectacle making its way towards the sheriff's office. The faces that stared and pointed at Vin know precisely who he was, and following their realization that he had returned were silent whispers of disapproval, hatred and reproach, emphasizing his notoriety in town. Very soon the number of interested onlookers on the street grew to an alarming number that made Vin glad that he had the support of his friends and the reassurance of a trial before judgement was passed on him. Just looking at this crowd told them that they were ripe to become a lynching party.
"It's okay Vin." Chris assured him in a low voice, the black garbed gun slinger's hand was poised on his peacemakers, even though the gesture looked completely natural and not at all threatening. Vin could tell by the tension in Chris' jaw that could change in an instant. "You're going to get your trial. We ain't letting nothing happen to you."
Strangely enough, when Chris said it, Vin tended to believe him. "Thanks pard." The tracker said with a wan smile. "But I knew this wasn't going to be easy when I decided to come back here."
Chris nodded, feeling his chest tighten in apprehension for his friend. He prayed that Vin would not require 12 men from this rabble to sit in judgement at his trial because if that were the case, he did not have a chance in hell of being heard fairly. The expression of condemnation on the faces of the townsfolk indicated that they already thought Vin to be guilty and Chris realized why Vin had found it necessary to run. With such overwhelming numbers believing him to be guilty, Vin was not likely to get out of a town alive without running into a noose.
"Friendly place." Buck remarked behind them as they progressed further up the street, their arrival drawing more and more attention.
It was actually a relief to see the jailhouse at the end of the road, and Chris wondered if Buford T. Jamieson was here in Tascosa yet. He certainly hoped so. He would not like to hold off a lynching mob with just six men, since Vin would hardly be in a position to defend himself. Besides, the presence of a Federal Marshall might be enough to keep the mob at bay, if it came down to a fight, and guessing by the ill feeling that was being generated as this cortege made its way towards the jailhouse, it was going to be close.
"Well there was enough bad feeling about Ely Joe without me bringing an innocent man's body and claiming it to be him." Vin pointed out, understanding completely how the residents of Tascosa must have felt when he had unknowingly passed Kincaid's body for Ely Joe's.
"What's the Sheriff of this town like?" Chris inquired as the stone building came into view with faded letters signifying its purpose stretched over the worn brick.
"Good man." Vin replied, remembering Sheriff Josh Ritter quite well. When the mistake had first been made, Ritter had not believed him to be lying about his claim that he had been tricked. Unfortunately, that doubt would mostly likely have withered up when Vin climbed onto Peso and disappeared out of town. An innocent man had no reason to run and Vin had done just that, proving to Ritter and probably the whole town he was anything but that by his escape. "I probably didn't make a friend out of him by running." Vin confessed somewhat shamefully.
"Probably not," Chris respected him too much to lie.
He looked into the crowd again, wondering how on earth Vin was going to get a fair hearing in a place like this and reconsidered the folly of bringing him to this town. What had he been thinking? Chris should have just let him disappear into the wilderness where he would at least be alive. Suddenly, his eyes caught sight of a woman who was staring at Vin with something that was completely opposed to anger. Her eyes hazel colored eyes were looking at Vin with sympathy and for a moment, Chris was struck by the sadness etched in her face. She was not much older than Vin, with dark hair pulled back into a tight braid at the back of her head. There was something about her face that seemed so terribly haunted and for a minute, Chris who knew all about spectral inhabitation's in the soul wondered what pain had made such a lovely face so filled with marked sorrow.
"Vin," Chris nudged the tracker as her eyes met his.
"What?" The tracker glanced his way.
"That woman," Chris nodded in her direction. "Do you know her?"
Vin looked up and met the soulful eyes offering such compassion a moment ago. She seemed startled by his notice and immediately withdrew behind doors once more.
Vin turned back to Chris. "No," he admitted puzzled at her behavior. "Never seen the lady before."
Chris continued staring for a moment, even after Vin's attention had returned to their journey towards the jailhouse, taking stock of the building she had entered in case he needed to recall the information later. There was something about her that was strangely compelling, even though Chris could not explain why. The establishment in which she had vanished was a modest shop front, with a simple wooden sign that read 'Amanda's Sewing Circle'. Along with the name of the store was also a list of services that was provided by its proprietress, Amanda.
There was little time to linger on that particular incident as they soon found themselves in front of the jailhouse. While their arrival had not exactly caused any real commotion, there was enough of a rumble from those observing their progress to the building to alert those inside to come out and investigate. Chris saw the doors of the saloon swing open at the same time the sheriff appeared from inside his jailhouse. Jamieson came out of the bar, meeting Chris' gaze in a silent gesture of good faith that he would keep his word with the arrival of Vin in Tascosa. Next to the Marshall was his deputy Langstrom, sporting a bandage around his head. As the seven faced Sheriff Ritter, Chris took note of Jamieson and Langstrom coming to meet them.
Ritter was in his mid-fifties, and appeared a seasoned man with a dark beard that was being overtaken by gray. Although he looked old, his brown eyes were sharp and taking stock of the situation before him. His gaze hardened immediately upon catching sight of Vin, familiarity breeding into a contempt for the crime the man had done, even though he was struggling hard not to let personal emotions interfere with his job. As he approached the riders who had brought their mounts to a halt before the hitching post, he carried a double barreled shotgun which he did not appear to have any difficulty using. When he took a stance before them, Langstrom and Jamieson were by his side, offering a strong wall of support, in case the new arrivals intended to cause trouble.
"Well you said it Buford." Ritter declared loudly, never taking his eyes off Vin as the tracker dismounted and walked towards him. "He's here."
"I gave you my word." Chris who was flanking Vin on one side while Josiah stood on the other, replied in response to the sheriff's remark.
"You did at that." Jamieson tipped his hat in a gesture of gratitude. He was pleased that Chris had not proved him wrong, considering how skeptical Ritter had been about Tanner being brought back by the men he rode with.
"How's your head?" Vin asked Langstrom. There was no malice in his voice even though the man had deserved it for what he had said about Alex.
"I'll live." the deputy shrugged. "Maybe it knocked some sense in it to me." Langstrom said with a little bit of smile. "I'm sorry about what I said about the lady." he replied and surprised Vin with his admission. "As people sometimes tell me, I got a big mouth."
"This is all very nice but this here is a criminal." Ritter said pointedly, unable to understand all this compassion towards a man who had taken another's life. "I've been waiting a long time to put you inside a cell Tanner" he glared at Vin.
"Take it easy," Chris retorted automatically. "He came in here of his own free will. We didn't have to force him."
"So what?" Ritter stared at Chris in nothing less than contempt. "Are we suppose to forget that he killed a good man?"
"I didn't kill anybody." Vin came to his own defense before any of his friends could. "I found the body, I didn't end his life!"
"You wanted your five hundred pieces of silver!" Ritter snapped back. "You killed an innocent man to get it. As far as I see it, you deserve to hang! I don't care how you're being trying to repent for your crime in Four Corners, pretending to be lawman. A thousand good deeds can't erase the stain of one innocent life! Now give up the gun or I'll shoot your right here!"
Vin flinched and Chris saw Josiah's anger swelling inside his broad chest. Behind him, the rest of the seven were preparing themselves for a fight, willing to defend Vin, every one of them if necessary. Chris saw Josiah's hand tightening around his guns and knew that this could easily spiral out of control into a shooting match if something was not done immediately. Ritter was riding on a wave of anger and unknowingly lighting a match to an already explosive situation.
"Easy Josiah." Chris commanded with a tone of voice that not even Josiah could ignore. The preacher returned Ritter's hard stare before his hand dropped away from his gun in acquiescence of Chris' instructions.
Jamieson did the same for Ritter. "Josh," his voice dripping with as much command as Chris' even though Jamieson's voice lacked the intensity of the gunslingers. "Our job is to keep him alive for a court of law to decided whether or not he is guilty. I gave these men my word that this was going to happen. Don't make me have to pull rank on you."
Ritter flinched, not liking Jamieson's interference in this even though the man was correct. It was not his job to decide if Tanner was guilty, merely act as warden until that determination was made and the sentence carried out. "Fine but he gives up the gun, now."
Jamieson looked at Vin. "I'm sorry son, you heard the man."
Vin swallowed, hating to be unarmed, hating to be put behind bars or enclosed by walls but that was an inevitability he could not longer avoid, no matter how much it twisted his insides in revulsion. Shifting his gaze sideways at his friends whose expressions were pained at being forced into this position, Vin knew he would spare them any more discourse. Reaching for the Winchester in his holster, he saw Ritter tense, the older man's fingers tightening around his own gun to shoot if Vin were to do anything other than hand the weapon to him.
Unsheathing the weapon from its holster butt first, Vin handed the sawed off Winchester towards Ritter. It was Langstrom who took the weapon away from the tracker. Vin never felt more vulnerable in his entire life as he prepared to place himself into the custody of the sheriff, reconsidering this entire idea of turning himself in now that he stood upon the edge of the abyss with no turning back once he took the final step. Inwardly, he wished more than anything that Alex were here and then recanted that it would be too difficult if she were. Taking a step forward, he separated himself from Chris and the rest of his friends in a gesture that was not only physical but symbolic in its presentation. No sooner had he stepped towards the sheriff than he heard the familiar clink of metal as Ritter produced iron handcuffs and prepared to snap them over Vin's wrist.
"Is that really necessary?" Chris asked, his lips pulling into a white line of anger as he saw Ritter lock the manacles into place around his best friend's wrist.
"Josh," Jamieson said unimpressed by the display the sheriff was making. "Come on, he's only going into a cell. That ain't required."
"After what he did to your deputy?" Ritter said sharply, throwing a sidelong glance at Langstrom as proof of his words. "This here is a murderer and I intend to keep my town safe from the likes of him. The cuffs stay."
"He turned himself in!" Josiah growled. "What more does he have to do to prove that he did not commit this crime."
"He ain't done nothing to prove it!" Ritter exclaimed. "Not goddamn thing except maybe make all you boys go sweet on him."
"Son of a bitch..." Josiah's voice dropped an octave above dangerous and Chris could tell that the limits of the preacher's patience had been reached.
"Stand down Josiah!" Chris ordered as Ritter's gun rose to fire. "This ain't the time or the place!"
"Yeah," Vin said suddenly. "Stop it please."
All eyes turned to him as the tracker released a deep exhale. "I'm in your custody now sheriff," Vin replied in that too low voice of his that always seemed so comforting when spoken in the midst of chaos. "I won't give you any trouble. I'll go quietly. Josiah, its fine." The tracker assured the preacher of this point, not wanting any bloodshed over such a small matter. "These things ain't so bad and they won't keep them on me when I'm in a cell, seems like there ain't no point to it."
"They will come off when he's in the cell won't they?" Jamieson gave Ritter a critical look, to impress upon the sheriff how close he was to having his jurisdiction usurped if the Marshall was given any reason to believe that the man in his custody was in any danger.
"Once he's in the cell." Ritter answered sourly, not liking the fact that he was being dictated to.
"I want one of my men in the room with him at all times," Chris declared before anything else happened. Ritter had way too much hostility towards Vin for Chris to dare leaving the tracker alone with the man.
"Not in my jailhouse..." Ritter started to say when Jamieson cut him off.
"That will be fine but you can't have your guns in there." The Marshall declared aware that Ritter would only tolerate his interference up to a point and the concession with their guns would be enough to pacify the sheriff into allowing one of the seven to occupy his jailhouse guarding the prisoner.
Chris saw Josiah about to balk at that suggestion but knew they would have little choice but to comply. "We're agreeable to that." As he made that statement, he unbuckled his gun belt from around his waist and handed it to Josiah. "I'll take first watch. Someone relieve me in four hours."
"Chris, you don't gotta do this." Vin replied.
"It's done." Chris said abruptly and looked at Sheriff Ritter with an expression of ice. "Let's go."
By the time the sun set in Tascosa, just about everyone in town knew that Vin Tanner was in custody.
Vin's six friends remained alert and the other five maintained their vigil by taking up position in the local saloon, armed and ready in case of trouble. After Josiah had relieved Chris in keeping watch over the tracker while he was in Ritter's custody, the gunslinger had taken a few hours to rest and get cleaned up, after which he joined the others. The mood in the saloon was ugly, which more or less confirmed Chris' intuition that he was right to accompany Vin here. As he and the others sat in an unobtrusive corner of the saloon, they could see people giving them anxious glances, identifying them as those who rode with Tanner.
"Gentlemen," Ezra said quietly, observing the crowd over his glass of whiskey. "I do not like the atmosphere of our present location."
Chris could not disagree with him. Although the saloon was like any other they had visited in a dozen towns like Tascosa and across the Territory, the mood inside the establishment was deteriorating. Patrons looked their way but tried not to make eye contact as they speculated on the new arrivals and rumbled in dissent at the protection surrounding the tracker after committing such a crime. There was a line of tension running through the place that was almost palpable in its intensity and Chris had the sense that it required little more than a hair's breadth to set the townsfolk's animosity into a full blow self righteous rampage.
"I gotta agree with Ezra on this Chris," Buck responded under his breath, his eyes fixated on the crowd just as closely. They all felt what Ezra was first to voice and it made them all doubly ready for action if the need arose. "I've heard the talk. They ain't happy that it's going to trial. Some of them want Vin strung up right a way."
"Well that ain't gonna happen." Chris said firmly, willing to kill the first man who produced a rope to reach that end.
"They're itching to lynch someone." Nathan added his voice into the mix. "They've been waiting for justice for a long time. Now they got the man, they ain't willing to wait and let a judge handle it."
That was apparent by the way they were glancing in the direction of the lawmen from Four Corners. Although no threatening gestures had been made to the visitors; it was obvious that the greater majority of the saloon's customers did not want their presence. While the bartender seemed nonplussed about them since their money was good as anyone else, the rest of Tascosa's residents were not so tolerant. They threw dirty looks and whispered in low voices about Tanner's comrades, reducing them to little more than armed thugs instead of peacekeepers here to ensure that justice was done in accordance with the law and not the rule of the mob.
"Which one of you has got Josiah's gun?" Chris inquired, agreeing with his friends that things could get ugly very quickly.
"I got it Chris." JD answered, showing enough of the preacher's artillery so that Chris could see it and not anyone else who was not of their number.
"Good," the gunslinger nodded smoothly. "Pass it to me under the table."
JD nodded quickly and slipped the weapons to Chris under the concealment of the table upon which their drinks were perched. The entire maneuver was made discreetly with no one the wiser who was not a part of the circle.
In the same voice, Chris turned to Buck. "Buck, you and Nathan go out to the jailhouse. Keep an eye on things there without letting anyone see you take the point. JD, go find Jamieson and his men. Tell them to be ready to move at a moment's notice."
"You think there's going to be trouble?" Nathan asked, allowing his gaze to sweep across the faces full of dark emotions and dislike, and knew that the gunslinger was correct in expecting the worse even before Chris could answer.
"Yeah," Chris nodded slowly. "I'd say so. It's not going to take much to push this bunch over the edge. They're liquored and there's always someone who's going to have more guts and self righteous anger than brains."
"I concur." Ezra agreed, since he was able to read the moods of men with greater efficiency than most because it was a part of his profession to know. "The question is, which one will it be?"
That was a difficult question to answer because there was no leader amongst the group, just unfocussed dissent that had yet to find a voice. If that were the case, it would run its course by the end of the night with no place to go and no one would be harmed. However, if it did find a rallying voice then the night was only beginning for everyone concerned, including the seven.
"Go." Chris ordered.
The others rose from the table, almost casual in their movements even though the situation was starting to climb towards critical. With practiced calm, the trio walked out of the saloon, with eyes following them until they walked through the batwing doors. As they departed, Chris heard the gallop of a single rider nearing the building. Buck, Nathan and JD had not been gone for more than a minute when a new set of footsteps marched onto the boardwalk with forceful strides before bursting in through the front door.
The new arrival was a man in his mid-forties, tall and wearing a tan duster. Judging by his clothes, he was wealthy, with pressed collars even though his clothes were that of a working man. With light colored hair and a sturdy build, he carried his tall stature like a man accustomed to authority. He had taken no more than few steps into the establishment before he paused in the center of the room.
"Did I hear right?" his loud voice boomed over the sound of the badly tuned piano and silenced it immediately, as well as the chatter in the room. "They got Tanner in custody?"
"He came in this afternoon." someone said in the background. "Turned himself in."
"Well ain't that nice." the man declared. "And what are we doing about it?"
"Shoot, Caleb there ain't nothing to be done," another voice replied. This time Chris identified it as belonging to a rather dull witted man dressed overalls and had the look of a farmer. "He's in the jail house, waiting for the judge to come and sentence him."
"Waiting for a judge?" the man called Caleb declared. "Since when did we wait for a judge to decide how things run around here?"
"There's always one," Ezra whispered to Chris as their worst expectations came to fruition.
"Yep, unfortunately, he's the right one." Chris nodded. "Let's see how far this goes."
"Mr. Larabee, if it were to go as far as we think, I do not believe there is much you and I can do to change their opinions. Unfortunately, we are outsiders and in communities like this, our word has very little weight."
Chris did not respond but was paying close attention to the growing tensions in the saloon, especially when the ill sentiment and resentment that had been festering in the room were being cultivated into the need for action by the incendiary words of one man. The new arrival had center stage now, capturing the attention of just about everyone except for some disinterested drunks whose were beyond anyone's ability, even their own, to be passionate about anything except what inside of a bottle.
"Jesse Kincaid was a good man!" the man continued to bellow. "He deserved better than to be killed because he happened to be there when some scum of the earth bounty hunter decided he was sick of working for a living! Its bad enough that some folks in this town have lost kin to Ely Joe but to have another innocent man die so he can keep Ely Joe from coming to justice is just plain sick! Are we going to let this dog sit pretty in jail when Jess is lying dead in the ground?"
"Hell no!" someone else shouted, followed by an angry chorus of voices that were soon properly outraged.
"Let's go." Chris said abruptly.
"Go?" Ezra looked at him. "I thought the point of this exercise was to keep these men from being inflamed into a mob."
"Like you said," Chris retorted as he pushed himself away from the table and stood up. "Our words ain't gonna do much. Best take this outside where we can stop it with something a little more impressive than words."
"I really despise it when I am correct." Ezra muttered and followed the gunslinger out of the saloon before the crowd remembered they were present and decided to wet their bloodthirsty appetites with an appetizer of them before moving on to the main course that was Vin. Ezra paused long enough at the batwing doors to see that the ringleader was well and truly in his element. Having set the match to the bitter feelings and easily ignited emotions harbored by everyone present, he was not about to let the momentum fade now that he had the masses firmly in his grasp.
"There ain't no reason for a trial!" he roared loudly, engendering more fervent cries of agreement with each word he said until everyone was transfixed by him and waiting for the next word to escape his lips. "We all know he is guilty! He came into town with Jesse's body! What else do we need? What else should the law need? Why wait days to see justice done, when we get it done tonight?" He searched the crowd and saw the faces that were glazed and mesmerized and knew that his power over them was absolute.
"Who's with me?" he shouted.
More than a dozen voices shouted clearly and the rest aped their sounds to indicate their enlistment into the night's duty. Ezra watched long enough to see the numbers that were crossing the floor in favor of a lynching and decided that it was time to go. He hurried away from the door just as the ringleader started to scream with almost fanatical intensity.
"Lynch him!"
It chilled Ezra down to the bone when that lone voice became the chant of dozens.
"We got trouble." Chris announced as he burst into the sheriff's office and immediately garnered a reaction of anger from the man who was seated behind his desk.
"You don't come in here with those guns." Ritter barked instantly, emerging from behind his desk and strode towards Chris who was handing Josiah his gun belt.
"What's going on?" Vin asked from behind the bars of his cell. He hated being trapped like an animal when there was fighting to be done by his friends, particularly in his defense. Vin felt he should at least be at their side.
"Someone's in the saloon, firing everybody up for a lynching." Chris said calmly, for the benefit of everyone, including the Sheriff. He turned to the older man as Josiah started wrap his gun belt around his waist. "Your people are going to be here in a minute, demanding his head for a hanging." Chris stared at the man with his intense gaze. "Are you going to let that happen?"
"I am the Sheriff of this town." Ritter said haughtily as if Chris even asking the question offended him. "I say how the law goes in this town and that boy's fate is going be decided by a judge and a jury, not a bunch of liquored up fools high on alcohol fumes."
"Well I'm glad to hear that Sheriff," Chris retorted with clear cynicism since little about this man had improved up to this point and his opinion was not likely to change in the near future. "Because trouble is coming."
As Josiah and Ritter started out of the building, Chris held back long enough to take a private moment with Vin who was looking most unhappy indeed at being left behind. The tracker met his gaze with an expression of misery on his face at being locked in this intolerable situation. "You gonna be okay, pard?" Chris asked Vin as he looked at the gunslinger through the bars of his cage.
"I ain't got much of a choice in the matter," he said bitterly. "But you take care cowboy," Vin replied, trying to force a smile but could not quite manage it. He hated this more than anything else in the world, to be left behind while good friends defended him while he was forced to cool his heels inside this damn cell.
"We will." Chris nodded, understanding the hollow expression in Vin's eyes as he offered that salutation of well being. "You just sit tight, we ain't gonna let anything happen to you." He started towards the door when he paused and added with a smile. "That lady of yours will never forgive me otherwise."
By the time Chris had emerged into the night air, he could see Buck and Nathan in position at strategic corners of the roofline in the buildings immediately offering line of sight to the space before the jailhouse. Only his experienced eye could spot them since he knew they were up there and was aware enough of each man's habits to know where they would nestle themselves. Ritter was armed with his shotgun and Josiah was standing next to him, uncertain allies who now found themselves on the same side. In the far corner, he saw Jamieson's men fanning out perhaps guessing what Chris had in mind by JD's relating of the events that had caused him to seek out the Marshall. In any case the players were already in position by the time the first handful of men emerged from the saloon.
Chris was not surprised when the ringleader was absent.
The man who had inspired all this wrath had disappeared completely from sight. Unfortunately, his disappearance did not prevent the tide of sanctimonious outrage that was presently moving up the street towards them. With most of the saloon's patrons properly incited, they had appeared on the streets, sweeping along anyone who had was gullible enough to be won over by incendiary words under the misguided notion that they were attempting to see justice done. They came armed with torches, guns and any other device that could be utilized as a weapon.
Ezra took his place by Chris Larabee's side, creating the battle line where none may cross before the jailhouse as they prepared to face the crowd. The gambler tried not to draw parallels between this incident and the time he had been forced to take part in a gathering of Ku Klux Klan members. Even though his participation had been minimal, he had seen enough to recognize the same thrall of bloodthirsty desire in the eyes of some of those present. Most were just caught up by words but there were some that truly wanted to see a lynching, and these were usually the hardest to disband.
"Here they come." Chris said under his breath. "You know these folk." he turned to Ritter. "You think they might get scared off?"
Ritter did not answer for a few seconds. In truth, he had not expected them to reach this point. Particularly when it was Slim Rawlins who was leading them. Rawlins had a farm not too far away from the Kincaid place and while he had a big mouth at times, he was also as stupid as a post and not quite forceful enough to light a spark the likes of this.
"I don't know." Ritter confessed. "They ain't felt strongly enough about anything to want a lynching."
"Charming." Ezra said unhappily, not wishing to shoot anyone who was gullible enough to be swayed into such behavior. Death was not a just punishment for stupidity. "Well I certainly hope that they pay some heed to force."
"They will." Chris declared as they watched the rapid progress of the group with their torches held high and their voices raised to the heavens in rage, sounding like the low rumble of a thunderstorm just before the first clap was heard in the sky.
"Marshall's men are in place." Josiah remarked as he spied Langstrom taking the point behind the edge of a building with Jamieson making the approach to join them at the front line, possibly adding some legal weight behind their determination to protect Vin.
Ritter did not like being usurped by this black garbed stranger but he could not deny that the man's measures to defend his friend were sound, especially when he had not broken the law to do it. Still, he felt comforted knowing that Jamieson and his men were on hand to offer them additional support if he could not compel the group to disband. Most of them were peaceful folk unless, of course, someone had stirred them up. Ritter wondered who would have done it.
The mob paused a few yards away from the lawmen with Rawlins taking the role of leader so recently vacated by the man called Caleb. He was not carrying a weapon, even though many behind him were armed and would no doubt move to protect him should Ritter make the foolish attempt to move against him. He was a slight man, but in his element, he seemed more than what he was. "Stand aside Sheriff." Rawlins declared in his opening move. "We aim to see justice done. Tanner killed Kincaid, we all know that. He should hang."
"He'll hang soon enough." Ritter retorted firmly, showing no signs of being impressed by the show of force on display by Rawlins and those behind him. "You don't need to trouble yourselves. I suggest you go home and sleep it off."
"We ain't drunk!" Rawlins shouted, furious by the inference. "We want him hanged tonight! We've waited long enough for Tanner to swing! What if he runs again? We gonna wait another three years to give Jesse some peace?"
"He ain't gonna run." Chris spoke up for the first time. "He turned himself in to be heard fairly."
"And who're you?" Rawlins sneered derisively as he turned to Chris. "You ride with a murderer, what good is your word. All you who ride with him are the same kind of trash."
"Sir," Ezra retorted with a hint of hurt in his voice. "I take great exception to that. I know for a fact that I am at least a better class of trash than Mr. Tanner. Breeding would suggest nothing else."
"Smart talking ain't gonna change nothing!" He barked angrily, proving that Ezra's verbal barrage was more than he was capable of handling. "Tanner took a life. It's an eye for an eye."
"Until the whole world is blind?" Josiah returned. "Is that what you people want? To be nothing better than what you are proposing to call a murderer? You do this thing and that's all you are and will ever be. No better then that which you sought to rid yourselves of. Taking a man's life is a serious thing, are you all absolutely sure that he killed Kincaid? Even to the slightest degree? If any of you can say that you know for sure that he did it, then step forward and be counted as one of the certain because if you don't, you'll see his face every night for the rest of your lives." Josiah challenged them all and saw a measure of uncertainty creep into some of their faces.
"We are sure!" Rawlins renewed his attack, disliking for a moment that his power was being usurped by this lawman with a gun whose manner and soothing tone sounded strangely like a man of the cloth and was appealing to his followers' conscience. "He rode into town with Jesse's body, hell he even tried to claim the reward money for that dog Ely Joe!"
"Ely Joe is the one who killed Kincaid!" Chris shouted angrily.
"You don't know that!" Rawlins said triumphantly. "Do you?"
Chris could not answer that challenge because it was true. He trusted Vin explicitly but in a court of law, there was no way to convey trust and the evidence that they did have was weak.
"Enough of this!" Rawlins motioned the others forward. "We want Tanner and we want him now." His demand was reinforced by the fervent cries of the same from those standing behind him.
"I'm telling you now to go home!" Ritter ordered. "There ain't gonna be no lynching tonight or any other night! Not while I am sheriff of this town!"
"A bullet can change that!" Rawlins retorted snidely.
Chris had just about enough of this and pulled out his gun so fast that it was pointed directly at Rawlin's head before anyone else could react. "A bullet can change a lot of things for a lot of people." Chris responded with ice cold menace in his voice that drowned out the rumble into a hush of expectation.
"We'd tear you to pieces if you pull that trigger!" Rawlins said fearlessly.
"Maybe so," Ezra added his calm voice into the fray. "But not before Mr. Larabee covers half of your neighbors with your brains."
"You're bluffing." Rawlins glared at Chris but he did not sound so sure any more.
Chris cocked the gun in answer to his statement.
There was a ripple of dissent starting to run through the crowd and Ritter took advantage of the momentary impasse to make a last ditch effort to salvage things before it descended into a gun battle that would see people dead. He was not certain that in the face of good people dying he would maintain the oath of his office and continue to defend Tanner. He did not want to be forced into that choice.
"I want you people to disband immediately." Ritter shouted. "Rawlins here has been pretty good at firing you all up but you ain't just facing us. Everyone will be held accountable when it is all over. It ain't me who's going to bring you in to face accountability for what you do tonight, it will be a Federal Marshall, who incidentally has got this entire place surrounded with at least seven men who do know how to kill for a living!"
"Don't listen to him!" Rawlins cried out in a show of last minute bravado.
The hammer of the gun pulled back, ready to fire and Rawlins stared down the barrel of the gun, his eyes wide with terror as the last vestiges of his bravery deserted him under Chris' penetrating glare.
"I don't want anyone hurt," Ritter continued, starting to see his words taking effect as a few guns were lowered and the fear in their eyes began to outnumber those who were still hell bent on seeing this through. "Rest assured, we will see to it that justice is done. We ain't savages, we don't hang a man in this town unless we know he is guilty. It may look like Tanner committed a crime but we also know that when it comes to a man's life, we better be sure about things before we assume that he is guilty. That ain't our job to do, its a judge's, and two days from now that's exactly what will happen."
People started to look around them. They tried to find evidence of his words being true and noticed the signs of the lawmen who were poised and ready to fire from aloft, from behind the corners of buildings, water troughs and any vantage point that might make a convenient place to fight a gun battle. While their volume outmatched the lawmen's, the sheriff was right. These were men who knew about killing far more than they did. Most of them had families to go home to, and risking it all for a principle suddenly became a price that was too high to pay.
"Forget this" someone said and with him, other voices soon joined in agreement that this entire situation was reaching a point of no return if they did not desist now. The guns began lowering in greater numbers and the rumble of dissent had faded into mutters of compliance as the tight body of marchers started to break up.
"Wait!" Rawlins started to speak when Ritter himself turned around and snarled in the man's ear.
"You say one more word Rawlins, one more damn word, and I'll lock you up!" the sheriff warned, disliking that his peaceful community was becoming so disquiet and that he was forced to appeal to their reason with the peace of the gun.
"What fer!" The man demanded angrily, watching in dismay as his power base cultivated so easily by Caleb had withered away as they turned their backs on him and started home.
"Anything I can damn well think of!" Ritter replied as Chris lowered his gun. "Now shut up and go home!"
Rawlins wanted to speak but surrounded by the four men with their weapons in sight and unafraid to use them, he fell silent again and moved gingerly out of Chris's immediate presence. In a moment, he had joined the others as they scattered into the night, now that the back of their protests had been broken. Chris saw the disappointment in Ritter's face and concluded that the sheriff really did care about seeing justice done even though he might be somewhat gruff about his prisoner. As Vin had warned on their way here, Vin's escape from Tascosa must have been a source of some embarrassment to the Sheriff, who must have surely suffered following that indignity. Injured pride was difficult to get over as Chris could personally attest to from experience.
"You think this is it?" Josiah inquired as he watched the group disappear into their places once again.
"Maybe," Ritter shook his head, having no real answer. "I ain't never seen them this fired up and Rawlins don't have the personality to get something like this going. He's dumb and he's loud but he's never been one to get people going."
"It was not Mr. Rawlins who stoked the flames tonight." Ezra answered as he slid his gun back into his holster before Chris could.
"Who then?" Ritter looked at him, somewhat surprised that the instigator of this lynching party would not be present to take part in his own handiwork.
"I don't know," Chris answered. "But Rawlins called him Caleb."
Recognition immediately registered in the man's face as the name bounced off him and they all saw it. "Caleb Patterson." He mused as if that revelation had opened up some disturbing possibilities in his mind. "He's a rancher around these parts."
"Why is it they're always ranchers?" Josiah looked at Chris and Ezra with sarcasm. There was nothing about the situation that could draw any humor from the coincidence they were faced with.
"What's he got against Vin?" Chris asked Ritter. "The way he was going on in the saloon, it looked a little personal."
"I don't know," Ritter said gruffly, feeling as if he had said too much already. These men were not real lawmen and he was not obliged to tell them anything, no matter how uncomfortable Patterson's involvement made things. Possibilities were starting to prey on him that had no business being there. The case was open and shut. Tanner had killed Kincaid. That was all there was to it. Any more speculation than that was only going to get more people killed. "If one of you is going to keep an eye on your boy in there, you best hand over your guns." He turned toward his jailhouse and started walking towards it.
"I'll relieve Mr. Sanchez." Ezra offered, removing his gun belt as he made the offer. However, he had every intention of keeping the derringer hidden beneath his sleeve on his person. After what he had just seen of the good citizens of Tascosa, he was not about to leave himself or Mr. Tanner open to attack, especially if their sense gave way to mob rules once again.
"Thanks brother." Josiah said gratefully, hating to admit that he needed the rest but the truth was the ride here had been hard and he would not mind a little recuperation.
"I'm going to find out something about this Patterson," Chris replied softly, not missing the look in Ritter's eyes as the man's name was brought up. The sheriff knew something he was not telling and Chris had a feeling that for Vin's sake, they needed to know what that was.
"So this is Tascosa." Alexandra Styles said as she looked out the window of the old Concord stage as it rolled into the town of Tascosa late that afternoon.
It was almost a day after Vin Tanner had arrived in the town although at this point, Alex had no knowledge of this yet. As her gaze swept over the dust-covered town, she had to agree with Vin that it was indeed as flat as a tack as Vin had once described it to her. Indeed there was not much to see once they crossed over into what was known as the Texas Panhandle. Just a lot of land that seemed to run forever, with nothing that distinguished one place as being different from another. She did not like it. There seemed to be barrenness about it that made her uncomfortable. In truth, terrain that did not at least have rolling hills and green carpets of grass made her feel like she was back in the desert with her father, moving across the dunes on camels in trading caravans.
"Not much is it?" Nettie found herself admitting as she saw the same view from a different part of the stage. "It seems a might quiet."
That was the truth, Alex thought. Unlike Four Corners which seemed to be bustling with activity all the time these days, the wheels of Tascosa's progress had appeared to be grinding to a halt. There was going to be a day in the not so far distant future when people would stop shaking out the dust from their clothes, or sweeping it off the boardwalks and simply allow it overcome the town. It would disappear into the wilderness then, just one of many such towns taken by dust and time, forgotten in history.
Alex would not be sorry to hear of its demise.
"I wonder if Vin is here yet." she found herself musing as the coach moved deeper into the unimpressive town.
"I would say so." Nettie slid across the seat and placed a comforting hand on Alex's, trying to will some of her formidable strength into the younger woman. Alex had brought them this far on will alone, and it was starting to take its toll on her. As much as she might like to believe that she could handle any situation, it was clear to Nettie that Vin was the one subject where Alex could never be that self-assured.
"God, I hope he's okay." she eased back into the seat, feeling none of the confidence that had been present when she first embarked upon this mission to help Vin. She worried for him and over the course of the few days it had taken to arrive here, how he fared preyed heavily in her mind. Tascosa with its flat plains and dusty winds intimidated her, and Alex knew nothing about this place that could bode well for either Vin or her.
"Chris wouldn't let anything happen to Vin." Nettie assured her even though for the moment, her words had very little effect in offering comfort. Still, not even Alex could deny the truth of her words. Chris and Vin shared a very strange sort of friendship, unlikely some would say. Both men had great difficulty expressing their emotions or conveying to others that they were living breathing creatures beneath the toughened exterior of their hard living. In each other, they had found deep friendship and its bonds were stronger than those forged of the blood. No, short of dying himself, Chris would not allow any harm to come to Vin, this much Nettie would bet her life on.
"I know." Alex sighed. "But he's very limited to what he can do." she confessed. "Chris is just as locked in this cycle as the rest of us. All he can do is make sure Vin sees trial but if a judge finds him guilty..."
"You must not think like that." Nettie said firmly, determined not to let Alex lose hope.
"I know," Alex swallowed trying to keep the emotion at bay because no matter how much she tried not to feel fearful for Vin or miss him for that matter, it only made the emotion all the more fierce. The ache inside of her at his absence in her life was beyond belief. Oh she had put up with him being gone for a few days at a stretch, the nature of what he was and his profession in Four Corners made that a part of life, but at least then she could be assured of his coming back. She had no such guarantee now.
"Nettie," Alex said soberly once she had composed herself again. The stage would be pulling up in front of what passed for the depot in this town and they would soon be disembarking. "I don't want him to know I'm here."
Nettie stared at her shocked. "Why?"
"Because it's going to be hard enough for him to face trial, without knowing he has to deal with seeing me too." Alex said quietly. In truth, she longed to see him but she could not bring herself to impose her presence upon him when his morale was so depleted. "I don't want to cloud his judgement. He's made the decision to face this thing and it's a good idea, no matter how much I might hate it." She wiped a few stray tears that had managed to sneak past her defenses before meeting Nettie's gaze again. "It would kill him to see me, I just know it."
"All right," Nettie nodded, her brow furrowed in dislike at having to keep such a thing from Vin but she understood Alex's reasoning all too well. "But if it doesn't go his way, you may never..."
Alex clamped her eyes closed, not even wanting to address that possibility. "If it doesn't go Vin's way and he is sentenced to hang then all bets are off and I have no idea what I am going to do."
Gideon Dunwill had arrived in Tascosa at dawn. Instead of taking the stage, he had chosen to travel by train all the way into Amarillo and then acquired himself a horse and carriage to make the rest of the journey. It had saved him a considerable amount of time, and judging by the telegram and the very generous retainer he had received just days before, it appeared that time was something of the essence in this particular case. Normally, he took such cases solely on the basis of whether or not they interested him. Fortunately, this case had all the elements of drama, which piqued the good Mr. Dunwill's interest.
After freshening up at the local hotel and getting himself properly attired for the occasion of meeting his client, Dunwill took a short luncheon at the diner attached to the hotel and then made the trip across the street to the jailhouse. Those who came across this newest stranger in town would have hardly a reason to raise a brow, since lately there were numerous new faces and the nature of their presence made it wise not to ask too many questions. Dunwill of course hardly appeared to be threatening. He wore a suit as if he was born to it, did not carry a weapon and spoke with an accent that was very British indeed. He was a man in his early forties, whose deep green eyes were often hidden behind a pair of steel rimmed glasses and he had penchant for respectable green bow ties.
Dunwill had come from England to the New World about 20 years ago wishing to practice his craft, as well as experiencing the excitement of a frontier existence. While Silver City was hardly what one considered the frontier now, twenty years ago it was a world away from life at Meriton, the village of his birth. He enjoyed the Americas, delighting in its unpretentious existence that so mired the inhabitants of the continent. In America, Dunwill was able to indulge his eccentricities while not being labeled a lunatic since his peculiarities were explained to the general populace as just one of those 'British' things.
He arrived at the jailhouse carrying his books and briefcase, looking more like a confused university professor then he did a notable criminal defense lawyer. Knocking on the door quite awkwardly, since his hands were full, Dunwill managed to enter the threshold and was immediately confronted by a rather irate looking man wearing a sheriff's badge upon entry.
"What do you want?" he demanded, just as the stack of books in Dunwill's hand decided to break free from the lawyer's grasp and crumple to the floor in a particularly noisy heap.
"Oh dear," Dunwill muttered and scrambled to pick up his books. "I am sorry. I'm here to see Mr. Tanner." he said while collecting his books.
The man behind the bars immediately rose to his feet while a boy, no more than twenty came forward and started helping Dunwill with his books.
"And who are you supposed to be?" the sheriff demanded.
"Thank you," Dunwill offered a note of thanks to the young man wearing a most afflicted bowler hat on his head. "I am Mr. Tanner's lawyer." he flinched at the word, having never gotten over being referred to in that way instead of the proper term, which was barrister.
"Lawyer?" The prisoner exclaimed. "I ain't got no lawyer."
"I believe you do," Dunwill looked at his client, assuming by his reactions that he was Vin Tanner. "I shall be with you in a moment, I need to clear this matter up." Turning to the sheriff, he said very firmly and sounded very much like a lawyer...there was that word again! "I have been retained as Mr. Tanner's lawyer and should you wish to bar me access to my client, we will discuss the matter more fully when the judge arrives in town. Of course, barring my client access to legal counsel constitutes as a violation of his rights and I am certain you do not wish gain censure for failing to carry out your duty as an officer of the law."
"Meaning what?" the sheriff said defensively, obviously not understanding a word that was just said to him.
"Meaning that you will be charged with violating the federal mandates for civil rights." Dunwill said hoping he did not have to put it any plainer.
Ritter was not completely clear on everything this fancy man was saying but the threat implied was clear enough and he was not about to argue the point. "Fine," he grumbled sitting down behind his desk once more. "Don't make much difference to me, there's no doubt he killed Kincaid."
"Why don't you let the court decide that." Dunwill said coolly and turned away from the man who was angry enough to be exuding smoke from his ears.
"Wow, that was something else, Mister." the boy remarked impressed.
"Thank you." Dunwill replied with a faint smile and then met the prisoner's gaze. "I take it you are Mr. Tanner?"
"Yeah," Vin nodded, uncertain what to make of this stranger with his funny accent that almost sounded like Alex's but not quite. "I'm Vin Tanner but there's some mistake, I didn't hire no lawyer."
"My name is Gideon Dunwill and I was not hired by you," Dunwill answered as JD willingly gave up his chair and allowed the lawyer to take his place in it. "I was retained by a Doctor Styles of Four Corners. I was sent a most generous retainer and travelling expenses to come here as soon as possible to act as your legal counsel."
"Alex hired you." Vin said not certain whether or not he was happy or upset. "Is she here?"
"She?" Dunwill glanced at him and then at the young man who was obviously Tanner's friend.
"Alex is my fiancée'." Vin admitted almost reluctantly and then rebuked himself for being so ungrateful. This was not the time to question her assistance when everything that she was doing was out of love for him. He wished more than anything that she was here but recanted because he could not stand to have her see him caged like this. Vin could not stomach it if it he were to see her and not be able to touch her or hold her in his arms. The temptation and the agony of refusal would be too much for him at this time.
"Doctor Styles is a woman," Dunwill's brow rose slightly. "How extraordinary."
"She sure is." Vin said under his breath with just enough affection for Dunwill to understand immediately how things were between the tracker and his lady.
"No matter," Dunwill brushed the topic aside for the moment and glanced at the young man. "I'm afraid what I have to discuss with Mr. Tanner is private."
"It's alright," Vin said quickly. "JD won't say anything to anyone." JD flashed Vin a smile of pride at being considered to be so trustworthy by the tracker even though the kid should have known better by now.
"You are the client." Dunwill frowned a little, hoping Mr. Tanner had some idea what he was doing in this matter. "Now, I had all the information on your case telegraphed to me prior to my arrival in Tascosa, so I am familiar with the situation. You located a body you assumed to be a named Ely Joe, is that correct?" He asked as he pulled out a note pad from his pocket and started scribbling some quick points on the lined paper.
"That's right." Vin nodded, wondering if this man could really help him. Alex would not have hired him otherwise, although he was very impressed with how Dunwill had handled the sheriff a moment ago who was still stewing behind his desk. "I found him dead already."
"You assumed that it was the outlaw, Ely Joe and naturally brought him to Tascosa to claim the bounty, only to learn that he was not in fact Ely Joe at all but a Jesse Kincaid." Dunwill concluded without looking up at Vin, all the while scribbling. "Why?"
"Why?" Vin asked. "What do you mean why?"
"Why did you assume he was Ely Joe?" Dunwill raised his eyes from his note pad and met Vin's gaze.
"He was wearing some of the skins that Ely Joe wore and the description sort of matched. Truth was, I ain't never saw the man myself, only from a far when I was tracking him and he was dressed the way I found the body." Vin confessed, thinking how foolish he had been to simply make that assumption.
"I take it this Ely Joe is now dead?" Dunwill probed further.
"He tried to kill Vin, Mister Dunwill," JD spoke up before Vin could answer himself. "He paid these men to impersonate Federal marshals to come get Vin in Four Corners."
"I see," Dunwill nodded and glanced in the direction of the Sheriff. "I assume you were here at the time my client brought in the victim, Sheriff?"
"Damn straight I was." Ritter said vehemently. "He brought him in here and plunked him down good as you please, expecting his reward."
"And you did not find anything unusual about a bounty hunter who was quite well known for his skill to be foolish enough to kill a man from these parts and attempt to substitute him for someone else? Not to mention, the source of confirmation being the one person in town who would know everyone residing in the area?" Dunwill looked over his shoulder and challenged Ritter to answer.
"He had the body." Ritter retorted defensively. "What more do they need?"
"What was he carrying?" Dunwill inquired.
"Carrying?" Ritter asked not understanding the question.
"What sort of weapon?" Dunwill rolled his eyes with impatience.
"A Winchester." Vin answered for him. "That's what I always use."
"Yeah," Ritter nodded. "A rifle." The sheriff confirmed.
"But you still believed that my client killed Mr. Kincaid even though it was a 45 caliber bullet that was removed from the body?"
"What's your point?" Ritter stared at him.
"A standard Winchester rifle of the make and model that Mr. Tanner utilizes a 30 -30 caliber projectile." Dunwill remarked still scribbling in his pad. "Did you find a 45 caliber weapon on Mr. Tanner or in his belongings when you arrested him for murder?"
Ritter started to stammer. "No, we didn't find nothing like that, which means he could have just got rid of it."
"It could," Dunwill nodded. "Or you could have made a mistake."