"A Face To The Reason" Book 3 - "From Break Of Day To Tide Of Night, Did You Ever Ride The White?"
(From “Ride the White” by JC Robnett ©2005 - JC Robnett)

By: Myristica

myristica63@gmail.com

"All my words, all my words, they have lost all their worth.
Nothing's good enough for anyone.
And I look at my face, there's a subtle trace
Of the change that is to come."
-SixPence None the Richer: "Bleeding"-

Part 12

Six months later...

Vin felt the sting of the leather against his bare skin again; the lash cutting into him as it had done so many times before. His buttocks screamed for mercy, his back and legs more so. The cold of the darkened room added to his misery as he hung by the wrists from the rafters of some isolated haunt that could only belong to madmen.

The vile laughter rolled out of Calder's throat with glee and Vin cringed at the sound. His muscles trembled under the onslaught of both shock and hunger...as well as an incessant craving for something only a needle could provide. "Stop," he moaned. "Please."

"Begging, Tanner? Thought you were above that." Calder laughed and cracked the whip once again.

The lash against his back forced Vin to arch his body. He wanted this to end. He would take the gun to his own head if he could. He ached for the medicine. He had been denied it for so long. His body quivered, and he begged for release. No, he was not above begging anymore. Calder had seen to that. All he wanted was the escape the medicine gave him. “Please, I want the medicine.”

“No, no, Tanner. First you take what I have to give you...then, if you’re a really good boy and don’t scream, I’ll give you your medicine.”

Vin groaned when he heard the sound of oil being slicked onto something solid. He knew what was coming next.

He struggled against the ropes binding his wrists. “I want the medicine, damn you! Give it to me now!”

Meaty hands grabbed his buttocks and began to knead the welts forming. He was pulled roughly back against Calder’s groin. Vin couldn’t remember the last time whimpers were ever forced from his throat, but they spilled out constantly now. Calder refused to give him medicine. That other man, Phelps, he would come in at appointed times and offer him the needle and Vin would stretch out his hand, yearning for the release that came from the liquid inside the syringe. “Please?” he would ask Phelps, and Phelps would smile and inject him and he would float into his mind, far away from this madness and pain.

Calder’s voice filled his ears and he wanted to pull away and hide. “Did you know that blood is like alcohol, Tanner? Like you wanting that drug Phelps gives you all the time. Blood gets me drunk and all I want is more, to smell it, to run my fingers through it, and when it covers a body as nice as yours, well…" he pushed his groin against Vin's buttocks and started to rub, "Well, I just get all hard."

Vin groaned, weakly shaking his head. "Please, no, I can't take it anymore. Don't."

"You're not in charge here, Tanner. I am."

Calder unbuttoned his breeches and Vin felt the blunt end of his attacker's prize weapon pierce his body once again. "I've used your blood along with the oil to slick this up real good, Tanner."

Calder's dirty whiskey-laced breath brushed against his ear. The whiskers of the man's beard scratched over his cheek and neck. Vin felt the moist heat of Calder's breath brush over his neck and he trembled from disgust. The man's grubby hands, now stained with Vin's blood, grasped Vin's cock and began to stroke.

Vin tried to pull away from the touch, but it was no use, he was bound too tightly. The strips of leather around his wrists cut into his skin, drawing more blood. He felt the trickles leak down his arm. "Calder!" Vin shouted, aching in his body and not just from this attack. "Please!"

"Want some more medicine, Tanner?"

"It hurts," Vin moaned.

Calder thrust into him again and again, riding him like he was trying to break him, but Vin knew he had already been broken…one too many times.

His cock involuntarily went erect under Calder's stroking encouragement.

Vin groaned his protest. "Stop, please!"

"I'm gonna get you to come, Vin. You'll come for me as you came for Larabee."

Chris.

Vin hitched a breath. He shut his eyes behind his blindfold and vaguely saw Chris' face flitter across his inner vision. "Chris," he whispered. "Chris."

"That's right, Tanner. Chris Larabee has no idea where you are. Probably thinks you're dead. It's been so long."

Vin lowered his head as he felt the immense width of Calder's cock enter his body again, ripping him open to receive his venomous seed. Vin felt the man's hot fingertips rub over the tip of his cock, and he heard Calder chuckle with wretched delight. "Leaking for me already? I'm flattered, Tanner. Real flattered." His fingers clutched Vin's cock tightly, squeezing it up and down.

Vin could not help his reaction, for it was reflex, instinctive. His cock betrayed his mind, and he bucked into Calder's hand, needing to release, finding the struggle to hold back vain and useless. Calder would not stop attacking him until he came.

The pressure built up within him, and he arched his head back. "Calder!"

Then suddenly Calder pulled his hand away, leaving Vin in dire need. "No," he moaned. "No."

Calder's fingers went between Vin's legs, and pressed against the sac, on an area specifically used to hold back climatic release. "Keep from coming, Tanner." Calder pushed against that spot harder. "Keep from coming."

Vin felt the need to come fade. This had never happened before. When his body relaxed, Calder grabbed his cock once again and began to stroke it. "Want me to finish you?" Calder whispered against his ear. "Want me to push you over the edge, Tanner? Like Larabee did? Each time you want to come, I'll push against that spot to keep you from coming. You'll come when I want you to and not before. Got that?"

Vin groaned his pained response.

Calder thrust five more times before his hot seed spilled into Vin's body with vehement release.

Vin moaned as his need to come surmounted once again.

Calder pulled out of him and breathed in deeply. "Oh, yeah, Tanner. Nice and tight. Just the way I like it." He walked around and knelt in front of Vin's strung-up body. He put Vin's cock into his mouth and began to suck.

Vin arched his head back. The fingers went to the spot on his sac and once again pressure was applied. "Not yet, Tanner. You are going to scream for mercy by the time I'm done with you tonight. See, that's what I want from you. To scream."

Vin shut his eyes, but this time the image of Chris faded into a blinding darkness that held no quarter for mercy.

+++++

The gunman sat his horse and gazed out over the vast fields that stretched out into eternity. His face was covered with a thick growth of beard. His normally reddish blond hair hung straggly around his neck and was caked in dust and grime. His black clothes showed more dirt and dust than black. His black horse was as weary as he was, its head lowered in a show of defeat. The gunman would have to get a fresh horse soon or risk the animal falling out from under him.

Chris Larabee looked up at the night sky. It was clear and the stars filled its depths.

Somewhere on this earth, those stars were shining over where Vin Tanner was…possibly even the man's grave. Larabee wouldn't really allow himself to think along those lines…not yet. Not as long as he had breath in his body would the gunslinger align his soul to that dreaded, even though possible, reality. The last town he had been in was over a week ago, and he had found out it was now the middle of July. Vin had been gone for six months.

Chris clutched the reins tightly in his left hand. It was more than likely Vin had been killed by his abductors, but if he stopped searching, if he gave in to that way of thinking, Chris Larabee may just as well put a gun to his head and pull the trigger. He wasn't ready to do that. He still harbored the belief that his lover was still alive…still needing him to find him.

The telegraph he had sent from the last town only two days before had just two words on it: "Any word?" The reply had come back from Buck Wilmington: "No word. No sign. Buck." Each town Chris stopped at he sent a telegraph to Buck and the others, hoping he would receive some good news in response. Nothing. Each time it was the same. And each time the response dug a deeper and wider hole within Larabee's soul. The only light inside of him was the hope that Vin was still alive.

Chris Larabee had vowed he would search the ends of the earth until he found Vin. No one dared try to dissuade him from promise. It was the only thing keeping him alive and those who knew him knew that.

No. Chris would never believe Vin was dead…not until he saw the tracker's body for himself.

The only good news was that Tascosa had not seen Vin or his body either. No one had turned him in, either dead or alive, and for whatever reason they hadn't, Chris was grateful. But Chris was certain it wasn't the bounty they had taken Vin for. The circumstances leading up to the abduction six months before had proven that. It was Chris’ past that held the mystery that had caused Vin's disappearance. A man by the name of Douglas. A man Chris couldn't remember.

And then there was Calder. Roy Calder, the man from Vin's past that had implemented the abduction. Messages, given two months before Vin had been taken, had come from Calder himself. It was a mystery…and Chris needed to understand before he died. He wanted to know who and why. He wanted to know so that Vin's plight would make some sort of sense. If this Douglas who had hired Calder to do the deed had wanted Chris Larabee, then why had they taken Vin? Why had they done all of this? To drive Larabee insane? Maybe. But they had not counted on the gunslinger's ability to grasp the thread of focus that refused to break within him. They had not counted on Larabee's desire and determination to find Vin Tanner, no matter how long it took, no matter how far he had to go.

Larabee clutched that thread as tightly and as continuously as he clutched his reins. He would find Vin—one way or the other.

He gently kicked the sides of his horse and headed on. Wherever the stars led him that night would be his destination. Let the world and heavens take note…

Chris Larabee was a man on a mission. Vin Tanner needed him. The gunslinger would never rest until the truth was found out. And if Vin was dead…God help the ones who had killed him.

+++++

The farmhouse was a rickety wooden shack, weathered by hard rains and blaring sun. Light from lanterns peeked out through warped cracks in the window’s shutters as Chris rode up to the dead gray colored door. There was an empty corral off to the side and a weathered and beaten barn that stood taller and more domineering than the house. His horse let out a weary snort and grunt, which brought out the owner who was a man about Chris' age. He had black hair and his beard was thick and as long as his neck. His clothes were torn and dirty. In his hand was a rifle. He aimed it at Chris. "Stay on your horse and ride out, Mister. I don't want to shoot you, but I will if you give me cause."

Chris lowered his head. "Need a place to stay for the night. I won't cause you any trouble. I'm bone weary and my horse needs tendin' to. Been traveling a great while, now. You're the first sign of life I've seen in a week. I promise, I'll be gone by mornin'."

The man looked Chris up and down; then his horse. "What's your name, stranger?"

"Larabee. Chris Larabee."

"Where you from?"

"No place you'd be interested in."

"Where are you headed?"

"Tryin' to find a friend of mine. Was taken about six months ago." Chris gazed out over the fields. He felt the strength needed to speak flow out of his body. God, he was so tired. "Bastards that took him…wanted me. Have to…have to find him."

The owner of the small structure saw the bone weary frame and the dust covering both the man and his mount. He lowered his rifle. "Name's Bill Davis. Dismount, Mister Larabee. Go inside and rest by the fire. I'll bed your horse down for you in my barn."

"I can take care of him."

"You're about ready to pass out," Davis argued gently. "It's no trouble, and I can get it done quicker than you can in the state you're in. Now do as I say."

Chris nodded wearily and dismounted. He was stiff and weak and, as he neared Davis, he gave in to the heady call of weariness. His legs crumbled out from beneath him, and he collapsed.

Davis caught him around the waist and lowered him to the ground. "Mister Larabee?"

"Vin. Have to find…Vin."

"Is that your friend?"

"Find him…bring him…home." Chris couldn't get any further. He passed out, and Davis gazed down at him with concern. He set his rifle down, picked Chris up by the arm and draped him over his shoulder, carrying him into the house. "Don't worry, Mister Larabee. I'll help you."

+++++

When Chris awoke, he found he was lying on a cot in the corner of a small shack. He vaguely remembered meeting up with a settler on a homestead. Looking across the dirt floor he saw another man sleeping in a chair by the fire.

Chris sat up and looked over to the shuttered windows. Sunlight was streaming in through the cracks of the wood slats. He threw the covers off of him, sat up and realized that was a mistake. He was so weary that his head and entire body ached from the movement.

Davis awoke. "Well, sir, good morning to you."

"For some people it is," Chris muttered dryly; then yawned.

"You best not try to get up too quickly. You look entirely spent and about ready to fall flat on your face again. You need to rest some more and get some decent food into you."

Chris shook his head. "I told you I'd be gone by mornin'. It's mornin'."

"I can't let you leave without feeding you and your horse. Took me a good solid two hours to brush that animal down to where he looks somewhat presentable."

Chris rubbed the back of his neck. "Where the hell is this place?"

"You're in the southern part of Colorado, my friend. Near the western boundary. How far have you come?"

"A place near the Mexican border."

"You seem to have come much further than that. You said you were looking for a friend?"

"Checking every direction I can. Taking me a long time to reach this far. Traveling in circles, I guess, stretching further out as I go."

"Maybe I've seen your friend pass this way. I go to town about a half days travel from here. How long he been gone did you say?"

"Six months."

"Long time." Davis stood and set a pot of coffee on his stove. He stoked the fire under it, adding more kindling. "What's his name? What's he look like?"

"Tanner. He has long light brown hair. Ever seen the ocean?”

“Seen paintings of it. Never been there. Why?”

Chris took on a vacant gaze. “His eyes...deeper than the color of a crystal blue ocean, or least ways what I could see in paintings. Blue eyes like a storm on the water. He’s tall, lanky, leans a lot."

Davis shook his head. "Ain't seen anyone like him. Sorry I can't help you there."

"Didn't expect you'd be able to. Ain't having much luck. No one I speak to seems to have seen him."

"How'd he go missing? You said some men took him?"

"Yeah. A guy by the name of Roy Calder and a short city-slicker named Phelps."

"Calder? That man wanted for murder? He took your friend?"

"Yeah, it's a long story, but I don't think he wants him dead. He had plenty of opportunity to kill him before they took him."

"Why were they after you, then?"

Chris shook his head. "No idea. Tryin' to figure it out."

Davis sighed and stood from his chair. He went to the rack on the wall by the door and removed his hat. "Well, stay here and rest a spell. You and your horse could both use it. We can go to town tomorrow and see what we can find while you load up on supplies."

"Much obliged, but I can't stay. Have to keep going."

"Mister, you're in no condition to travel. When was the last time you slept? I mean really slept? You are not going to do your friend any good if you find him and can't lift a gun. Use some sense, now."

Chris almost grinned. "You sound like a healer friend of mine."

Davis chuckled. "Well, I'd like to help if I can. Don't get many folks stopping by here."

"I don't mean to put you out," Chris said.

"You just worry about getting some rest. I'll go tend your horse. The coffee will be ready in a few minutes." Davis put on his hat and headed out the door.

Chris laid back down and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't remember when he had ever been so tired before. Maybe Davis was right. To find Vin he would need to be able to hold his own. It was good sense.

Before he knew it he was asleep again.

+++++

The next morning, Chris sat at the small table as Davis dished out their breakfast. Eggs, ham, bacon and biscuits. "I keep a store of food in the barn. Got a section of food growing. Got some good rain this winter. Will probably have a grand crop."

Chris ate and realized just how hungry he was. In minutes his share of the meal was gone and Davis grinned. "At least your appetite isn't spoiled. Your body is in dire need of rest and food, Mister Larabee."

"Haven't ate or slept much since Vin disappeared."

"I suppose you haven't. Must be a close friend to you."

Chris nodded, knowing what a man like Davis would think of his exact relationship to the tracker. But he wouldn't lie about the situation either. He responded in the best possible way. "He's like kin."

Davis poured them both some more coffee and sat down. "I know you can't be staying. Probably head out once we see if there's any word on your friend in town. But I want you to know, if you think you need more rest, I can put you up for another day or two."

"Obliged, but no. I need to keep searching. Each day I lose time is more time away from the answers."

Davis finished off his coffee and stood. "I'll saddle your horse and hitch up my team. We'll be on our way within the hour."

"Davis, I appreciate all you've done."

"Never you mind. I just hope when you find your friend that you'll send me word. I'd like to know it wasn't all for nothing."

Chris nodded. "I'll do that."

+++++

It had taken less than a day to reach the nearest town and Chris once again sent a telegraph back home. "Near Utah. No sign. Will be circling around. Any word?"

The reply came back an hour later. "No word. No sign. Buck."

Chris sighed. He asked around town to see if anyone had seen Vin or the men who had taken him. Nothing.

Davis was loading up his wagon with supplies and Chris lent his two arms to the task. "Anything?" the settler asked.

Chris shook his head.

Davis sighed, and not from lifting heavy sacks of grain into his wagon. "Seems to me you're looking for a needle in a haystack."

Chris snorted. "If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one…" he let the thought trail off.

"Maybe you should go back to where you came from, Mister Larabee. Sometimes when we head back where we started we can see a clearer direction to take."

Chris wondered about that as he helped Davis tie down his bags and barrels. Heading back was a thought that had passed his mind a time or two, especially these last few weeks. Maybe it was Vin's soul calling him back to where it all began. Maybe it was just Chris' need to know for sure that he hadn't missed a sign back where it all began. He gnawed at the inner side of his mouth as he pondered Davis' suggestion, which echoed his own questing heart. "Maybe you're right. I'll think on it."

When the supplies were loaded, the two men looked at each other. "I suppose you'll be on your way then," Davis said.

Chris nodded. "Thanks for all your help."

Davis shook Chris' offered hand. "Remember what you promised. You send word the moment you know he's alive."

"I will." Chris mounted his horse, and with a tip of his hat, started out of town.

+++++

Buck came out of the telegraph office only to find Ezra standing outside waiting for him, smoking on his cigar and watching him carefully. “Well?” he asked.

Buck shook his head and tapped the wire against his wrist. “Southern Colorado, still searching.” Buck walked off the boardwalk, his head down, he turned down the nearest alley.

Ezra scrutinized him for a moment, suspecting why the scoundrel looked as though an immense weight had just landed on his shoulders, but uncertain enough to forego assumption. He followed after Buck and watched with dismay as the larger man leaned against a back wall and hunched his shoulders. A hand to the face, a quiet sniffle and Ezra understood that his suspicion had been correct. He did not bother to quiet his movements, allowing Buck to know he was approaching. “Mister Wilmington? Are you all right, sir?”

Buck slowly turned and leaned back against the building wall. Around them crates and old boxes were stacked high and some were scattered, giving them a form of privacy from those people walking up and down the street.

“Haven’t been able to tell him Mary left to go back east. She gave up on Chris just like that, Ezra. Though I can’t say as I blame her. Nothing left here for her. Memories is all, but not enough for her to put down roots like she wanted. But I think her hopes were set on Chris and her getting together. When that didn’t happen...” he paused a moment. He looked at Ezra. “She put the Clarion in your hands.” Buck formed a half-hearted chuckle. “Don’t know how you manage to own a saloon as well as a newspaper business, Ezra, but damn me if you can’t keep things on track.”

At the word ‘track’ Buck’s smile slipped, and he gazed down at the paper in his hand. A few silent tears fell from his stricken face, hitting the paper. Buck did not bother to try and brush them away or excuse them.

Ezra moved closer, putting himself between Buck and the alley entrance. “This is the alley where Vin took care of Marcus that day those men demeaned the actor with the paint and quirt, isn’t it?”

Buck nodded. “That it is. Marcus had to help him cool down, though. He took Vin’s soul into careful hands and calmed him. I’ll never forget the powerful anger Vin released that day.”

Ezra removed his hat, holding it between his hands. He lowered his head, fighting back the pain the memories of that beautiful young man brought him. “I remember it well. His fury was so that Josiah had to put him in a terrifying hold as to keep him from killing those men. I had never thought such fury possible within Mister Tanner’s heart.”

“He loved Marcus, Ezra. We all know that, but it was so powerful an attachment.” Buck stopped, hitched a breath. He put a hand to his heart and fought back the tears. “And when I helped Vin bring Marcus back here to clean him up, get him away from the people...you know, it was then I could see the child inside of Vin, Ezra. That child that wanted to touch the world and see it with brand new eyes. I could see why Chris took him into his heart in that very moment. Damn tracker stole his heart, Ez. And now that he’s gone, so is the heartbeat that kept Chris alive. We lost both of them that day.”

Ezra moved up closer to Buck. “Sir, if you would let me buy you a drink?”

Buck leaned his head back and streams of tears flowed down his face. “It’s going to take more than a drink, Ezra. Much more. I’ve lost my best friend. He died the moment they took Vin. Had a dream...before Vin...” he shook his head. “I never cotton to dreams, Ez, not like Josiah does. But this one...it came true.” He turned to Ezra, his eyes wet and red. “How can you help someone who traps himself inside a room that can’t be broken into, that can’t be torn down because he won’t let it be? How can you help someone who doesn’t realize that he’s dying, or if he does, doesn’t want to care?”

Ezra lowered his head. “I wish there was something...”

“God, Ezra. Does this alley not remind you of something else?”

Ezra took a moment to look up and down the length of the alley. “Sir, I’m not...”

“That morning,” Buck said, a low whisper clouding his words. “That morning you confessed what you had seen between Chris and Vin at Shepherd’s Rock. Do you remember? Do you remember how you said you envied what they shared?”

Ezra looked at Buck with uncertainty. “Mister Wilmington, we promised each other that we would take time...”

“Damn it, Ez!” Buck was not angry as much as desperate. He turned away from the gambler. “When you were shot. I don’t know if you know this, but...I stayed up with you all that night. I couldn’t leave your side. I know about the note Pitch gave you. I read it. I understood why you’d become so distant. Fear does that to people, it makes them put up walls. Keeps out the danger, but it also keeps out the joy. God, Ezra, seeing Chris like this, knowing what his love for Vin is doing to him...but damn it! He loves! By all that is pure and right, he loves. And it’s not just a passing thing here.” He waved the telegram in front of Ezra. “It’s real and forever and if Vin is dead Chris will be sure to follow.”

Ezra moved even closer, put a hand to Buck’s arm. “Sir, are you saying something as deep as what they share...this is what you are needing...from me?”

And before he knew it, Buck had him in his arms, holding him tight. Surprised by the action, Ezra did not move to protest it. For a moment he just stood there and let the larger man embrace him, for Buck had held all of this in since the beginning, and it was very clear he could take no more.

Ezra slowly put his arms around Buck in an attempt to find some way to let him know that all was not lost, but...it was more than that. Ezra knew it in his heart. He could not deny what he had been feeling all this time. The time he and Josiah has spent in Denver and San Francisco to investigate Phelps’ connections, had been enough to help him put his thoughts together. Everywhere he had turned he had hoped to see Buck there with him. And when he and Josiah had returned from their journey, he had found Buck waiting for him at the stage drop off. The greeting in Buck’s eyes was as warm as he had ever seen it. A brush of the hand when taking Ezra’s bag from him, soft, meaningful, but quite literally inconspicuous. A casual glance here and there. Buck had missed him.

Ezra had tried to ignore the signals He had tried to ignore the looks, the smiles, the eyes that bore into his soul and sought to drain him of his resolve. Buck Wilmington had the means, though. He had the means to break down the defenses of those he wanted. And it seemed on that morning, in this alley, it had not been a flash in the pan experiment on how to walk the other side of the tracks. He had kept his heart right where he wanted it...waiting patiently for Ezra to learn how not to be afraid again.

Ezra fell into the embrace. “God, Buck,” he whispered. “I need you, too.”

Buck gently pulled away and looked deeply into Ezra’s green eyes. “About damn time you folded.”

Ezra smirked. “You kept the game going by bluffing your way the other direction, sir.”

“Just biding my time, Ez.”

The sound of women laughing very close to the alley forced them to break apart quickly.

The action brought the telegram back to Buck’s attention. They waited for the women to pass by, making sure no one had seen them.

Buck slapped the paper against his wrist.

“Damn bastard,” Buck almost choked out. “Can’t stand the thought of his life being ripped out of him. If only we could give him news. If only we could give him...something!” His shoulders shook as he fought to keep the anger at bay. “Damn it, Ezra, tell me something. Anything at all! You had to have found something when you and Josiah went to Denver and ‘Frisco. Something had to have made sense.”

Ezra moved in closer, putting a hand to Buck’s shoulder and squeezing it tenderly. “The treks that Josiah and I made to Denver and San Francisco during that time showed no clues, Mister Wilmington, you know that. We told you all the minute we returned. I’m sorry. Josiah and I asked everywhere we could think of, we moved in and out of the areas Phelps had worked as a reporter, but there was no one who knew anything. It’s as though he completely vanished from this world. I have heard no further word from those contacts we made in San Francisco since returning. If he’s there, he’s in hiding.”

Buck let out a nervous chuckle and turned to Ezra, his lips trembling. “I just thought maybe something had fallen into that incredible mind of yours, something that could...”

“Something that could jar a piece of the puzzle back into place, sir?”

“Yeah, Ez. Something like that.”

Ezra smiled. “I may be quick and able to think myself out of precarious circumstances, Mister Wilmington, but a certified man who works miracles is beyond my expertise.”

And when his eyes met Buck’s, he saw in the scoundrel’s expression a look of such fondness and affection that it stole his breath for a few heartbeats.

Buck quickly turned away, clearing his throat. “I’ll take you up on that drink, now, Ez, that is if you’re still offering.”

Ezra smiled, flicked the ashes off the end of his cigar and placed it in his front coat pocket. “It would be my honor, sir.”

Buck returned the smile, affording Ezra’s presence a glimmer of gratitude for not running off after Buck’s questionable display of emotion a few moments before. “Thanks, Ez. Right kind of ya’.”

Ezra sobered. “Sir, in this instance, the gesture is strictly one of friendship, kindness notwithstanding, for I, too, have felt the weight of this loss in ways you cannot imagine. Perhaps between the two of us,” he reached out and fingered Buck’s shirt collar, “Perhaps we may find some solace.”

Buck crumpled the paper in a fisted grip and threw it to the side. The two then headed out of the alley and over to the saloon, side by side as though they had been walking that way all their lives.

+++++

When Chris unloaded his saddlebag, later that night, he found plenty of food to see him through the next couple of days. Davis had seen fit to not let him leave without some assurance of keeping his strength up. Chris marveled at the homesteader's gracious and giving heart.

As he sat by that night's fire, he munched on some bread and cheese, but the thoughts of Vin that filled his mind drew his desire away from filling his stomach. It had been five and a half months of traveling for Chris. Maybe Davis was right. Maybe he should go back, if only for a day or two. Get his bearings; try to gain some focus. Maybe on his way, he would come across someone who would have word. Maybe. It was a shot in the dark, but it was all he had, and in spite of it all, he still had good aim, when his focus was clear.

As Chris finished his small meal, he gazed into the flames of the fire and remembered the night of Marcus' murder. How Vin had grieved and turned to Chris for the help he ached for. He remembered how Vin had gazed into the flames of his small campfire, never truly seeing Chris approach him.

Chris knew it was around that time that his feelings for Vin began to change. He had seen the poet's heart of a best friend turn into a heart that sang to Chris' troubled spirit with more than a song of friendship.

Marcus had done a lot to help that change come into being. Chris had watched the connection form between Marcus and Vin, and he found himself wanting to give Vin more than just support. Marcus had touched a spot in Vin that helped the tracker to reach out to Chris that night. And in that act of reaching out, it spawned a turn in the road for Chris' own grief and desire to hold onto the past.

Vin had become more than just a friend that night. At least he had become more in Chris' heart. And all he had wanted to do was take Vin's pain away. Then, when Vin had quoted that poem to him the next morning, writing it just for him, it had sealed Chris' supposed feelings into fact. It was in that span of time that he knew he was falling for the tracker. He knew it as surely as he knew that Vin's pain for Marcus' death was real.

The memory of Vin's grief, the memory of those few days that changed both of their lives, pierced his heart and Chris shut his eyes. After he was sure he had regained control, he reached into his pocket and pulled out Vin's journal. He knew he was betraying his lover's privacy by doing this, but he couldn't not do it. It kept him connected with Vin in some small way. He opened the pages and began to read once more the entries that had filled his mind with Vin's voice.

"Nevr met nyone like Chris. Somtims I wish I nevr had. I gron to care fer 'im, like a brothur. But…hes a mystry. I don medl. We talk, but werds don need sayn'. I git a pain in my ches when I see 'im hertin. I no he luvd 'is famlee. I recon I hert fer 'im. Nevr had a frend to hert fer. Not like this. I shuldn't let 'im se me hert fer Marcus. It brings memrys bac fer 'im. But, he neds ta' be ther. It's a ned, Siah sez. Don ned no pratectin, but Chris neds ta help me. Recon I neds it to. Nevr thot Id rit somthin like this. Nevr had reson to. Chris and the othrs…wel, I recon Iv changd. Is this wat it meens ta' hav a famlee?"

Chris overlooked the misspelled words. The way the words were spelled did not mean anything. The meaning behind them did. He shut his eyes as the stinging tears formed behind them. He closed the book and lowered his head.

He had not allowed himself to read that far ahead into the journal. This entry was as fresh to him as it was fresh the day Vin wrote it. One of the first entries he wrote after receiving the journal. The entry dated was two months before his abduction, very shortly before he and Chris had become lovers.

Chris opened his eyes and the tears streamed down. "Damn you, Tanner. How the hell is it you've come to mean so damn much to me?"

+++++

The rider was on the hilltop, sitting his horse, silhouetted in the orange hues of the setting sun. Chris noticed the slouch, the familiar lean and tilt of his head. "Hey, Cowboy."

Chris was now sitting his horse next to the rider. "Where ya' been, Tanner?" he asked as the two clasped arms.

"Waitin' fer you," the quiet voice replied in that Texan drawl that was music to Chris' ears.

"Thought I'd lost you," Chris said, and he felt the smile beam from his face.

Vin shook his head and grinned back at him. The tracker wrapped a leg around his saddle horn and rested an elbow on the bent knee. "Yonder a ways, I saw ya' ridin'. Came ta' tell ya' not ta quit."

Chris tilted his head slightly to the side and looked at Vin curiously. "What are you sayin'?"

"Davis was right. Start at the beginning, Cowboy." Vin flashed him a smile and a shrug. "Waitin' on ya. And the snow’s comin' fast."

"Snow?"

"Covers the top in white. Ever ride the white, Chris?"

"Don't know," Chris replied, and it didn't occur to him that Vin was talking strangely.

Vin turned and pointed down into the valley. "See? Covers ya' and won't let go."

Chris turned to see a snow filled valley and a blizzard circling the area. He turned back to where Vin had been and saw the tracker was gone, but the voice came to him on the wind. "I'm dyin'. Don't wait too long, Cowboy."

Chris turned his horse and headed into the valley where he saw something in the snow.

He rode closer and dismounted. Approaching on foot he saw the arm sticking out of the snow and recognized the buckskin. In the frozen hand was Vin's Mare's Leg, clutched in lifeless fingers.

Chris bolted up with a strangled gasp of fear. He quickly looked around and realized that there was no snow. "Vin?" he called out and scrambled to his feet. He looked all around him in the glow of the dying fire. "VIN!" he yelled. Then he collapsed to the ground and wrapped his arms around his head. God! I am going insane.

He laid there for a few minutes trying to regain his focus. The dream had scared the shit out of him, and he needed to quiet his heart down. "Vin," he moaned out similar to the way he had moaned out his wife’s and son's name the night after he had found them dead.

Not dead. He can't be dead. He came to tell me not to quit. He ain't dead.

Chris pulled himself to a sitting position and stared at his black horse. The animal stared right back at him. "Reckon you think I'm crazy, don't ya'?" he muttered to the horse as he pushed himself to his feet. He began to pack up his things. "Maybe I am," he commented with a snort.

One thing he knew for sure. Something was calling him back home. Why, he had no idea. Davis' words rang clear: "Sometimes when we head back where we started we can see a clearer direction to take."

Back where we started. The words flicked across Chris' mind as he stilled his movements. "Familiar surroundings," he muttered. He continued rolling up his bedroll. "One more time. See it one more time, then never look back."