Progressions

LEFT HANGING

Dammit, sometimes I just don’t get that man. Buck says we got some kinda connection, like we know what t’other’s thinkin’ without even lookin’ at nor talkin’ to each other. T’hell with that; if’n we had whatever Buck thinks we have, Chris’d know I’m cussin’ him out right now and wake up. ‘Stead, he just lyin’ there under half the goddamn blankets in the town- one of ‘ems mine ‘cause it was the dryest thing to hand when we found ‘im in the creek bed- with this roarin’ fire goin’ and my own ass is about to roast off ‘cause for some reason I can’t leave him.

Maybe it’s ‘cause I wanna be the first person he sees when he decides to wake hisself up, just so’s I can be the first person to tell him what a damn fool he is. Maybe it’s ‘cause I wanna tell him that he needs t’let go of th’past afore it chokes him like that vomit almost did while he was lyin’ there, waitin’ for us, ‘cause I know what th’past can do to a person. Maybe it’s ‘cause I want to apologize for not bein’ there, for just glarin’ at him as he went stalkin’ off to th’saloon earlier today t’get reacquainted with that damn bottle, an’ then for gettin’ t’hell outta the livery whilst Ezra and Nathan was gettin’ ready to take him to the clinic when we got back.

Hell, I don’t even know what I wanna say when he decides to open them eyes a’ his. What makes it worse is that I don’t know what he’d say to me after I’d tell him whatever it is I wanted t’tell him.

Don’t like bein’ left hangin’.

If’n we had that goddamned connection like Buck says, I’da known he’d lit outta town drunker n’a cowhand two hours after payroll, and I’da known he’d never made it out to his shack- usual place he goes when Inez runs outta Red Eye or won’t give him any more. I’da known he’d fallen off his horse when it spooked at somethin’- an’ for Chris Larabee to fall off his horse says somethin’ as to how drunk he is.

At it is, we got to him a couple hours after that happened, I reckon, an’ Nathan says he ain’t sure if Chris’ll be okay- pretty bad exposure, he said, an’ with Chris bein’ all wet, it could turn into pneumonia or somethin’ worse. Best thing we could do is get him back to Nathan’s and get all his wet stuff off, then wrap him up an’ let him bake in this godawful tiny room with a little bit’a hell ragin’ in the oven next to his bed.

That leaves me sittin’ here, waitin’ for him to wake up or start retchin’, one a’the two.

Don’t like bein’ left hangin’.

Well, he has half the blankets in the damn town. Hope he’s happy, that bastard.

I really don’t have much of a call to be thinkin’ those things, but I can’t help it. Should feel sorry for him, but then I get around to feelin’ sorry for myself ‘cause I’m pretty much just second choice. Has to be a hard comedown, goin’ from a lovin’ wife an’ son to some ex-bounty hunter who’d just thought to hole up in Four Corners for a bit. Nasty thought, but then, the truth hurts, an’ if y’can’t be truthful with yourself, who can you be truthful with?

Wish I knew what it felt like, to have someone care for you and love you just for the sake of lovin’, not ‘cause they’re kin and blood tells ‘em that you’re their lookout. Reckon I’m a bit jealous a’that, not bein’ married, not really havin’ a crack at a ‘normal’ life. Sometimes it makes me so mad at Chris when he gets in those black moods a’his that I want t’beat the shit outta him.

"Y’had someone who loved you ‘cause she wanted to, dammit!" I’d shout. "You think I ever had that? Don’t you think I want that?"

Quit shittin’ yourself, Tanner. Ain’t the way it’d fall out, an’ you know it. If’n ya did say somethin’ like that, you’d be back on Peso an’ on your way outta Four Corners within the hour, an’ you’d be kissin’ another friendship goodbye- not like y’had a lot of them things to begin with.

Ain’t never been particularly big on relationships; usually, somethin’ happens that gives you cause t’regret knowin’ the person in the first place, so y’find yourself movin’ on sooner or later- mostly it’s sooner, ‘least with me. Weird thing is, I been here a coupla years now an’ whatever-it-is ain’t happened yet. ‘S scary too, ‘cause I figure that disaster’s just holdin’ off a bit longer than it usually does, waitin’ so when it strikes, there ain’t no way I can stay.

That means I get t’move on, find some other place to stay in for a couple days to catch my wind an’ get my bearings, maybe find some work t’pay for food an’supplies. Ain’t a bad life, really, bein’ out in the wild, ridin’ trails only the buffalo an’ maybe a few Indians have ridden. Not dealin’ with snappy, snipin’ humans who’d hurt ya- or turn ya in for a bounty- as soon as look at ya. Really, it ain’t that bad a thought, movin’ on.

For the first time in a long time, though, I really don’t want that to happen, but I can’t see it fallin’ out any other way. I hate myself for not bein’ there for him, for stalkin’ off soon’s I saw him headin’ for the saloon and that damned whiskey a’his. All’s he needed was someone t’talk to, or just to sit there an’watch him drink. Pretty much what I do best- sittin’ an’ watchin’, that is, not talkin’- but for some reason, I couldn’t do it today. He’ll hate me for it, for turnin’ traitor, an’ to spare him havin’ to tell me that to my face, I’ll leave an’ that’ll be the end of it.

Chris’s never given me much of a reason to doubt him- if’n he says he’s gonna be there, heaven and hell better get outta the way. If’n he wants to stop a runaway train or a herd a’ buffalo, they’re gonna stop if it’s the last thing he does. If’n he says he’s gonna help me clear my name back in Tascosa, then them fancy fellers over’n Italy’ll make me a saint.

I don’t want him ever to doubt me.

Sometimes, though, I’d wish he’d just fall in love with Mary, settle down, have a coupla kids, and forget about Vin Tanner. Figure I remind him too much of what ain’t good in his life. Shit, I don’t know. Should find out one a’these days, when he wakes up. Just... I just don’t know. Don’t even know if I want to find out.

All’s I know is that I don’t like bein’ left hangin’.

GET ME THERE

Man alive, it’s cold.

Like Buck says, it’s cold enough to freeze the balls off’ve a brass monkey. I’m pretty sure that’s now the saying goes, but with Buck, you can never tell. All’s I know is that right now, it’s damn cold outside, and I’m pretty damn cold myself.

At least, I was cold up until about an hour ago, I reckon- now, I’m mostly numb. I heard Nathan say something about ‘ missing supper’ when they put me on Vin’s horse, and the voices swirling around my bed right now are asking if the woman who runs the boarding house if she could warm up some leftovers. Supper starts at five thirty and ends at seven, so that means it has to be, well, after seven. I’m too cold and tired to be hungry, though, and whatever whiskey’s left in my stomach has frozen solid. Actually, I’m not even sure if I’m awake. Maybe I’m dreaming- wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a dream like this.

No... I can feel someone pulling my left arm over their shoulders, and feel them wrapping their right arm around my waist. Whoever it is has to be pretty strong- don’t feel like I’m walking anywhere by myself any time soon. Should really open my eyes a bit, see who it is, but I can weed out the possibilities without doin’ that. It isn’t Josiah, because he could carry me like a little kid; isn’t Buck, either, because I’m not dangling from those shoulders like a ragdoll. I can hear Nathan’s voice ahead of me, and I know J.D.’s out at Nettie’s place tonight. Has to be Vin, but I don’t smell buckskins, and the material my arm rubs against is too soft and fine, too... too... silky.

I have to force my eyes open to believe it.

Ezra’s carrying me.

I don’t fuckin’ believe it. Ezra Standish is hauling me down the street, not even spoutin’ off those five-dollar words of his to tease me about losing my way, falling off my horse, or being drunk. Not complaining about how my wet, dirty coat is ruining that ungodly expensive vest or staining that damned imported linen. Every time you think you’ve pegged him, Standish goes and does somethin’ like this. It’s one thing to jump in front of a bullet to save someone, another t’stand guard outside the privy like he’s doin’ right now so I can puke in peace. One thing you do without thinkin’ about it, when your blood’s up an’ all you can think about is cold steel, lead, and gunpowder. The other you have to think about, have to actually stand there an’ warn off curious bystanders so’s your friend (an’ you’d have to be a friend t’do this) can retain some of his dignity, if not his drink.

Getting pulled gently to my feet and half-dragged out of the privy doesn’t even really register; somehow, I know my eyes’re open, but I’m not really seeing anything. I finally manage to focus them on Ezra’s face- didn’t know workin’ my eyes could be so damned difficult- and for once, I see that perfect poker face unguarded, with something in those green eyes that I haven’t seen much of in our time together.

He’s worried. Far be it from him to say so, but he is. Makes me feel guilty- didn’t much want to make anyone go and care about me. Caring doesn’t get you much farther than a couple of tombstones, too many memories, and a bottle of whiskey.

Bottle? Hell, bottles.

Sometimes I can go a few days without drinkin’- just don’t need to, so I don’t. Most days, I just have a beer or share a bottle with someone. But there are still some days... There ain’t many of them now, but glass is a tricky wall to climb. Some days, I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten to the lip of that canyon and can crawl out, but something shakes me an’ I’m back down, swimmin’ in that amber an’ starin’ all the way up those shiny walls to the distant top.

Ez, though... heh. Ez is worried. I can see it, even though I’m drunk as all get-out. I can see it written on his face.

And in that same flash of vision, the one that lets me see the man carryin’ me to bed, I see my best friend walkin’ away down the street and not lookin’ back, and I can’t look any longer. I try’n tell myself it’s the way he fades in and out of shadows like a damn ghost that’s makin’ me dizzy, but you can only lie to yourself up to a certain point before y’realize that lies don’t work any more. I close my eyes to try’n deny that, but denyin’s really a lie by omission, if y’look at it the right way, so I pass out instead of having to get my mind around this.

....

Don’t know how long I’ve been out, but for once, I feel warm. Feels like I haven’t been warm for a century at least- fingers an’ toes are burnin’, so at least they’re gettin’ sensation back. My right hand feels okay, so I suppose I’ll be good enough to go gunslingin’ as soon as Nathan decides to let me out of here. Strange, though- I don’t really want to leave. It’s warm and comfortable in here, both of which I haven’t been acquainted with in a long time. I can smell carbolic, so I know I’m at Nathan’s- carbolic, soap, and... and yeah, that’s old buffalo hide all right.

He’s here, and I feel both happy and guilty as hell at the same time.

Don’t know how long he’s been sittin’ here, but with that slouch of his, he could have gotten here five minutes or five hours ago and there’d be no tellin’ the difference. Don’t know how he does it- livin’ like he does, I’d be wound tight as a spring, but he just... he just what? Everything seems t’settle in him, like sand on a lakebed after you kick it up. Keep kickin’ and it’ll keep on settlin’.

Sometimes I hate him for it, and that’s where the guilt comes from. If I was someone other than Chris Larabee, I’d grab him by that damn jacket and keep shaking until he tells me how he does it, how he can be so fuckin’ calm, so damn acceptin’ of everythin’ when I can’t be. On my worst days, I come close to doin’ it, but if he knows- and I’m pretty sure he does- he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything ‘cept sit there with those blue eyes smiling at some secret only he knows, drinkin’ something or just watching people come in and go out of the saloon.

Wish he had done that today, but I know he can’t always do it- can’t always ride the trail at a gallop, y’gotta walk sometimes. Buck couldn’t always do it, but we’re still friends- more or less his effort, rather than mine. Deep down, I’ve always been grateful to have him with me, even though I’ve never said it, but Buck’s not the kind of person who needs you to tell him thank you. If he likes you, your company is enough for him. Seeing as he’s hung with me for the past twelve years, I have to wonder about his standards, but then, Buck ain’t the most discriminatin’ person.

Vin is, though, an’ he has t’ be- person like him don’t enter into these things lightly, an’ predators don’t like any company they don’t have to keep. An’ isn’t that what we are? Hunters? You don’t share your territory with someone who might hamstring you. Why he wants to share his place with me I have no idea, but I’m glad he does. Sometimes there just ain’t any answers, like Josiah says- mostly, he says that in response to some question I have, usually when it’s revolvin’ around self-pity. Even when I don’t have those answers, I know enough to know you don’t walk over a friendship like Vin Tanner’s.

Buck says we got a connection- don’t know about that. Josiah’s the mystic out of all of us, so maybe Buck should take it up with him. I don’t need a connection to like Vin, though- just bein’ friends with someone is enough for me. I can tell he’s thinkin’ about leaving, though, because he believes he’s failed me somehow. Like I said, glass walls are slippery bastards, and it ain’t his fault- can’t hold a person’s hand forever, even if they’re hangin’ over the edge of a canyon.

Wish I could tell him that, but talkin’ seems right next to impossible. Maybe if I can open my eyes just a little, enough to catch his attention if he’s not hidin’ under that damn hatbrim, that might help. Might even be able to nod. As it is, I can only open my eyes a little- the sun’s awful bright, and my eyelids weigh a ton. I can see, though, an’ I can see those blue eyes shinin’ at me from under that damn hatbrim of his.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I, but in a moment, the space of a heartbeat, everything’s okay again. I just lie here, he just sits there and everything’s okay. My eyes are way too heavy to keep open for long, and they pretty much just close of their own accord, but I feel better now so I don’t try to fight it. He’s stayin’, knows I’m not mad, knows we’ll be okay, and we’ll keep on keepin’ on to wherever we’re goin’.

I don’t know where I’m goin’, but he’ll get me there.

GONE

I honestly think Nathan believes we're all incurable liars- if I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times that I'm okay, but he doesn't believe me and keeps me locked up in here. Yeah, it's nice being warm and not worry about where the next meal or the next threat is comin' from (God, I sound like a dog), but it's also boring and there's stuff needs doin'.

Vin's gone, by the way. Been tryin' not to think about that. Hung around for a few days until I could start eatin' on my own and didn't need someone cuttin' my meat like I was an old man. After that, though, he just up and left. Gone.

Right now, I'm tryin' to keep it 'gone' as in 'he's just gone to get something to eat.' But it's startin' to work its way up to 'he's gone to help the boys patrol the town', which is still something I can live with. It's when we get to saying 'he's gone out campin' for a few days' that I get worried, because the next level of 'gone' is something I don't want to think about.

Gone like smoke in a rainstorm, and there's no finding Vin Tanner when he doesn't want to be found. He'd be halfway to Canada before anyone notices he's missin', if that's the way he wants it. Almost like he can bend someone's eye around himself, like a magician doing a trick or Ezra connin' someone at poker- just a little bit of misdirection, and he's gone.

Shit. Larabee, you can't be thinkin' like that. With any luck, Nathan'll let me out today and I can go look for him. If he's not at the jail, he's at the saloon or his wagon or the livery; if he's not at any of those places, he's patrolling homesteads or out at the reservation or maybe checking up on his favorite camping spots. And if he's not in any of those places, well he's gone.

Gone. Gone. There's a deeper meaning in that word. Gone, as in dead. Gone to heaven, hell, or someplace in between. I don't even want to think about what would happen to me if he's gone like that and I have to live through it. I'm not sure I would want to. Live through it, that is. Don't know how many times I've seen him get hurt and part of my mind just laughs at me as he's lyin' there too still to be alive. "He's gone! He's gone!" it shouts. "He's gone!"

Just two lousy words, but they echo like the bell that tolled on the day I buried Sarah and Adam. That thought pretty much tears it; takes some doin', but I can at least get myself outta bed and get dressed. Who knew boots could weigh so much? I didn't. A few more minutes spend themselves as I try'n get this damn shirt buttoned- my fingers still don't want to work properly, I guess. Gotta get outta here before Nathan catches me.

As it happens, the first person I see on my way down the street is J.D., and I feel a little guilty at seeing it's him- outta all the guys, he won't tell Nathan I've snuck out. So far, it's a clean break.

"Hey, J.D." My voice sounds like I haven't spoken in a year.

"Oh, hey, Chris. You feelin' better?"

"Yup. Lissen, you know where Vin went?" My heart's pounding at the question, like askin' it is admittin' to myself once and for all that I don't know… and I don't want to know the answer, in case it's wrong.

"Oh, he's gone out to your shack, I think."

J.D. doesn't realize he's added a few more years to my life, and I'd like to keep it that way. I thank him and send him on- now I just have to get myself down to the livery and I'm home free. Fortunately, one of the hostlers is there and knows enough to saddle my horse and keep quiet about it. Can't believe I have to use the fence railings as a mounting block… God, I hate that. But I'm up on the horse and ridin' out to where- hopefully- Vin's gone to.

The ride seems to take forever- sort of like the ride back from the creek that day- but I can finally pick out the black outline of my shack in the distance. My shack… and a strangely human figure sitting on top of the roof.

Vin's here. I know it even before I see Peso hitched to the lumber wagon, or the way the waning sunlight picks the gold out in Vin's hair. God only knows why he's sitting on my roof. Well, I know why. You got to see the sunset straight on- not much of a point seein' it from the ground when you can climb ten feet an' see it washin' across the prairie.

"Sure is a pretty spot, Chris," he told me once.

Yeah, it sure is.

He turns around well before I even think I'm in earshot, but then, he's always so all-fired aware of things. Tried explainin' it once to J.D., but the kid looked at him like he was crazy, and Vin let it drop. The sun's to his back so I can't see if he's smilin' or not, but I know he is, else he'd've turned right back around or maybe just climbed down the ladder he's got leanin' against the side.

Takes a bit of doin' to climb that ladder, but I make it and sit- hell, more like collapse- beside him.

We don't say anything, but then it's times like this we don't really need to. He's got that same old peace in him- that peace that makes me want to kick his ass because I don't know how he comes by it nor how to keep it. He's got that look that he gets when he's out in the wild, or thinkin' about goin' there, with his eyes goin' far away to places you can't see from town. Both are things I've gotten used to, and things that I'm not really sure I can live without.

A look of disapproval flickers across his face before he asks, "Nathan know you're out here?" He knows the answer, but asks the question just to tease me.

"What he don't know won't hurt him."

"Yeah, well, if somethin' like this happens to me, I 'spect you to return the favor, cowboy."

"You got it."

Silence. What else is there to say? We both stare out into the sunset; he's got his hat pushed back down his neck, and the first of the evening breezes is startin' to blow, brushin' his hair back. He runs his hand through it, makin' it dance in the breeze a little. I do the same, even though with my hair, there's not much of a point.

I bring out a cheroot and some matches like it's some kind of ceremony- Nathan'll kill me if he finds out, but Vin won't tell him. He sees me having difficulty managing the matches and wordlessly takes them from my hand, strikes one, and applies it to the cheroot. I take a long, slow breath and exhale, take the cheroot away from my mouth to see how the plumes of gray stream up from the embers.

Don't know if I can tell him how he's so much like that smoke, and I don't want to.

See, he's here.

But that smoke is gone.

THE END