Fic: Most of Me - Chap 1/?
Title: Most of Me
Author: Barb
Fandom: Magnificent 7
Universe: OW (Spoiler for Wagon Train)
Word Count: approx. 20,500
Pairing: Chris/Vin (eventually)
Rating: R
Warnings: Lots o' swearing, a bit of non-con touching.
Author's notes: This is pre-pre slash. I’m assuming that you are already familiar with the characters and the episodes. If not, go read some M7 summaries or M7 fiction and then come back. I dislike working an entire back story and character definitions into the opening paragraph of a story. It usually comes off as too contrived.
No one takes a tumble like Vin did down that hill and shakes it off for long. And I hated Charlotte. Soooo . . .
And a HUGE thank you to the pre-emminent Beta in the Universe, Fara.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M
Dry, brown grasses clicked and rustled in the early fall breeze as nine horses and eight riders made their way along the faint tracks left by the wagon train that had recently been left behind. The pack horse skittered suddenly as a rabbit burst away from the intruders. J.D. dropped back a bit to sooth the nerves of the pack horse and secure a sack of flour that threatened to slither out from under its bindings. It was an almost balmy afternoon, quiet except for the dull thud of horses hooves’ on hard earth, creaking saddles and the eerie summer-end song of hidden cicadas.
Chris Larabee turned in his saddle and looked back down the line of riders. They were spread out a bit, not willing to eat the dust of the horses in front of them. J.D., at the end of the disjointed line, was fiddling with the pack horse for some reason that escaped the gunslinger. A ways to the fore and right of him, Buck rode companionably by the side of Josiah. Both seemed to be nodding a bit in the saddle. Up and to the left of J.D. Ezra rode close by Nathan, heads bent toward each other in quiet conversation. Chris raised an eyebrow at that. You never could tell with those two. A little further afield Mary was holding a drowsing Billy before her on the saddle. Chris smiled. All of the excitement of the last few days seemed to have finally caught up with the young boy. He turned back again and looked up the trail to find that Vin had increased the distance between them. Vin had been subdued and distant since they had parted company with the homesteaders this morning.
Chris studied Vin for a moment. The tracker was leaning slightly to the left in his saddle, holding himself as still as possible on the moving horse. Once again Chris saw in his mind’s eye Vin’s ass-over-teakettle trip down the side of the steep hill and heard again his response to Chris’s question as to whether or not he was all right. “Most of me,” the young man had replied. Obviously he was being generous in his assessment. A hard tumble like that must have hurt like Hell. Chris jigged Pony just enough to speed him up a bit until the gunslinger drew alongside the young man.
“How you doin’ there?”
Vin slid his eyes momentarily to his friend’s face, then shifted his gaze out to the trail ahead. “Just a mite stiff. Nothing to worry on.”
Chris frowned for bit at the somber quietness in the tracker’s voice, falling into silence himself.
In truth, Vin hurt everywhere. Once the danger had passed, he’d started to feel every spot that had hit Mother Earth on his way to the bottom of that God-forsaken hill. His head was pounding, his back was on fire and his right knee felt like a spike had been driven through it. And his heart . . . well, that hurt worst of all. Chris interrupted his thoughts.
“What did you tell her?”
Vin studied the surrounding hills for a moment. “Told her I had changed my mind about the two of us,” he responded sullenly. Chris narrowed his eyes.
“And had you?”
The muscles in Vin’s jaw tightened as he shot Chris a dark, bitter look. “Yeah, Chris, I had. I made a mistake. Is that what ya want to hear? I wanted something’ that was never gonna be right, no matter what I did. I wanted her to fix somethin’ in me. Didn’t work. Ya happy?”
Vin glared at the older man, challenge in his features as he studied Chris. He dropped his gaze, then, and sighed, shoulders slumping. Chris frowned at the change. The usually rock-steady man next to him had been a jumble of conflicting emotions this entire trip and it unnerved him. The tracker’s cryptic explanation didn’t help. He tried again. “So you got it figured out?”
Vin laughed ruefully; bitterly. “Not that it’s gonna do me a God-damned bit of good, but yeah,” he turned his eyes once again to Chris’ and the gunslinger was mesmerized by the sorrow, despair and . . . something he couldn’t define in those wide, blue eyes. “I figured it out.”
With that, Vin mumbled something about scouting out the trail ahead, put heels to his horse’s flank and shot ahead, effectively ending the conversation.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M
Dusk was just beginning to fall when the group pulled up to a small copse of cottonwood trees around a tiny pool. The leaves of the cottonwood whispered and shivered in the early evening breeze as the riders slowly dismounted. Vin hesitated a moment, eyeing the ground in trepidation. With a sigh he swung his leg around and tried to dismount. Immediately his back flared and he sucked in a low breath. Josiah cocked his head to one side, gazing at the tracker with concern. Vin hung motionless, half in and half out of the saddle, afraid to set his right leg to the ground, knowing that his knee probably wouldn’t hold him. His spine felt like a herd of buffs had stampeded over it and his head just wanted to come off all together. The young man looked up again and was surprised to see that Josiah had somehow gotten from across the glen to his side without seeming to move at all. With a wide, toothy grin the ex-preacher looked up at Vin.
“Can I give you a hand?” Kind eyes pleaded with Vin to say “yes”. The tracker sighed again and nodded his assent.
“’Preciate it, J’siah. I’m a mite stoved up.”
Josiah nodded and smiled, then gently assisted his friend to the ground, allowing Vin to set the pace and taking some of the younger man’s weight until Vin was comfortable enough to limp along on his sore knee. By this time, more heads had turned to take in the scene and Nathan was frowning.
“Ah, Hell.” Vin breathed softly as he limped slowly toward the assembled riders. Chris frowned, too, then turned toward the others.
“Buck, get a fire going. Ez, see what we have in the packs and lend a hand to Mary. Josiah, J.D, we’ll unsaddle and picket the horses. Nathan . . .”
“I got it.” Nathan answered with a shake of his head as he made his way toward Vin. Billy trailed after him, wide eyed with anticipation. The healer took Vin by the elbow and helped him limp toward a fallen log. Settling the young man there he went off to find his saddlebags. Billy stood in front of Vin and eyed the tracker with unmitigated curiosity.
“Did ya get hurt in the fight, Vin?”
Vin stamped down the urge to roll his eyes as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris drift closer, bedrolls in hand.
“Just took a bit of a spill, pard. Nothin’ to worry on. ‘Ol Nathan’ll have me fit as a fiddle in no time.” He was lying to beat the band and he knew it but he didn’t want Billy to worry and he didn’t want to give Chris the satisfaction of admitting that he hurt like Hell. Nathan plunked the saddlebag full of his medical wares down in front of Vin and ordered the young man to take his shirt off. Vin’s eyes widened.
“I ain’t takin’ my shirt off in front of a lady!” he hissed, totally scandalized by the request. Billy squealed with laughter. Vin’s head pounded harder. Nathan rolled his eyes.
“Well, Vin, we don’t have a lot of privacy here.” He turned to Mary. “Ms. Travis, would you mind fixin’ supper with your back to us, if that ain’t too much trouble?”
Mary smiled sweetly and consented. With her back now turned to the trio, Nathan once again turned and glared at the tracker.
“Off.”
Vin slumped in defeat and tugged at his braces. Buttons followed, then the shirt, followed by the undershirt. Billy’s eyes widened in surprise at the colorful array of bruises covering Vin’s torso but he stayed silent. The tracker felt someone’s gaze upon him and turned his head slightly to catch Chris’s eyes, stormy and worried, sweeping across his battered back. If not for the presence of the young boy next to him, he would have bet a few choice words would have burst forth from the intractable gunslinger. Chris abruptly turned and stalked away as Nathan began to dab Arnica balm over the bruises, asking questions of Vin as he worked.
Vin was soon settled against his saddle, knee wrapped securely and sipping a cup of willow bark tea for his “bit of a headache”. He watched Mary expertly put together a supper of skillet biscuits, salt pork and gravy. Ezra ground coffee for the pot and J.D. took several apples down to the pond to wash. Chris eyed the scene with satisfaction before turning to Buck.
“You’ll have first watch, then J.D., Ezra, Josiah and Nathan, two hours each. I’ll take last watch.”
Vin’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“What about me? I ain’t helpless, ya know. Just ‘cause I’ve got a coupla bruises don’t mean I can’t pull my fair share.”
Chris eyed the stubborn tracker evenly for a moment.
“We’ve got plenty of men to cover. Best you rest up that knee and that hard head of yours.”
Vin’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “Ya sayin’ ya still cain’t depend on me?” He shifted uncomfortably under the combined stares of his friends now. Chris’s eyes flashed in the light of the campfire.
“I’m sayin’ that you took a hard tumble and you can do with the rest, Vin. You sayin’ you’re not hurtin? ‘Cause I know da . . . ,“ he paused, flitting a glance to Mary and her young son, “’cause I know otherwise. It’s gonna be a long day in the saddle tomorrow and if you think you’re stiff and sore today, you wait until tomorrow eve. You’ll be lucky if Nathan isn’t plyin’ you with laudanum by then.”
Vin turned his head away from the stares and gazed out into the gathering darkness. A few late season fireflies twinkled lazily and he tried to concentrate on their ethereal beauty. He wouldn’t press the issue in front of others and couldn’t press it with Larabee, for the bastard was most likely right. He’d be damned if he ever admitted it, though. He heard the others begin to move about again as Mary announced in a falsely bright voice that supper was ready. Vin accepted a biscuit and some coffee but declined the rest. His head pounded and his gut churned. It was going to be a long trip back to Four Corners.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M
They rode into Four Corners on a warm, Indian Summer day that made the dying prairie grasses smell faintly of baking bread. Without the encumbrance of wagons, oxen, livestock and families, the Seven and Mary had retraced their steps in only three days as opposed to the twelve it had taken them to reach the homestead site.
Chris heaved a relieved sigh. It had been an uncomfortable three days for him. Vin had turned from his usual taciturn but companionable self into a moody, disagreeable asshole who had reduced his vocabulary to grudging monosyllables when prodded. Mary had hovered about Chris with bright smiles and longing glances, apparently waiting for the gunslinger to realize how lucky he was that she had chosen him instead of Gerard. That just made Larabee grind his teeth. He liked Mary well enough. She was attractive and mighty fine to look at. If he could have gotten under her skirts without the inconvenience of a wedding band, he’d have been there like greased lightning. Trouble was, he had no interest in marriage. Now the dang woman seemed to be hanging about waiting for him to realize how jealous he had been of Gerard and how close he had come to losing her. She was going to have a mighty long wait. Chris couldn’t wait to be shuck of all of them and reacquaint himself with a nice bottle of whiskey.
Vin looked about owlishly. He had been nodding off in the saddle shortly before they hit the edge of town. That bothered him. He was so tired the last few days. Sleeping in the saddle could get a body killed. His knee was much improved now that it had tight bindings to help support it. His back still hurt, but not the fiery agony of the first day or even the unbearable stiffness of yesterday. Now, if his head would just quit pounding, he would feel almost normal again.
Looking about him, Vin noticed he was the only one still in the saddle. He’d been woolgathering again. Swinging down quickly, the tracker stumbled momentarily as dizziness swept over him. Ezra put out a hand to steady him.
“Are you quite alright, Mr. Tanner?” the erudite gambler asked solicitously. Vin nodded and stepped away from his friend.
“Yeah, just m‘ knee. Thanks, Ez.”
They both raised their heads when a shout came from down the street. The McNally kid was running toward them, his red hair gleaming in the afternoon sun.
“Mr. Jackson! Mr. Jackson! Me Da sent me to town yesterday to find ye. He says to tell ye that he thinks me Ma’s got the lung fever. Can ye come?” the youngster huffed out as he slid to a stop in front of the healer. The Seven looked at each other. The McNally’s were an Irish family recently settled a good 4 hours ride out of town. Nathan sighed and nodded to the boy.
“Give me 10 minutes to round up what I’m going to need, son, and we’ll head out.” He turned to survey the others, his gaze finally falling on Vin. “You get plenty of rest and don’t be getting’ up to anything while I’m gone, ya hear me?”
Vin nodded and watched his friend stride quickly toward the clinic steps a few yards away. He grabbed Peso’s bridle and, with a slight limping gait, made his way slowly into the stable. J.D. brought Mary’s horse while Buck led the packhorse in. Even with the two extra horses to untack, Buck, J.D. and the others were done and gone by the time Vin was finished. His fingers had felt clumsy and thick, fumbling with the buckles and cinches. He blew out a frustrated breath. He was pretty sure by now that he had a concussion. Nothing to be done about it, though. He’d had ‘em before and he knew he just needed some rest and a little time to clear his head. He didn’t remember this weakness in his limbs from his previous knocks on the head, however. Didn’t matter. It would pass, given time.
Vin exited the stable and squinted in the westering sun. The bright sunlight sent hot shards of pain shooting through his head. Lowering his head to bring his hat brim down, Vin considered his options. He could eat but the thought of food made his stomach churn. He could go to the saloon but the noise would be unbearable and he didn’t feel like company. Pretty soon, he had no doubt that the tale of his indiscretion with a married lady would be making the rounds. Vin had no wish to be more of an object of scorn and ridicule than he already was. He sighed heavily. Sleep was his best bet. He trudged slowly toward his wagon.
Inside the saloon, Chris peered out over the batwing doors, watching Vin cross the street. He frowned and turned away. The last thing he wanted was to put up with more of Vin’s lovesick peevishness. He had escaped Mary by hightailing it to the saloon. It was good luck on his part to escape Vin as well, wasn’t it? He mentally shrugged and forced his thoughts in a different direction. He’d come in here to get away from all that. After days of it, he’d had enough drama from those two to last him a life time. It irritated him as well that Vin professed to know he was better off without Charlotte but he appeared to be moping about after her anyway. Chris gritted his teeth in frustration. There he was, thinking on Vin again! He swung himself toward the bar, determined to drink himself into a pleasant stupor where clingy women and hangdog friends didn’t exist.
Author: Barb
Fandom: Magnificent 7
Universe: OW (Spoiler for Wagon Train)
Word Count: approx. 20,500
Pairing: Chris/Vin (eventually)
Rating: R
Warnings: Lots o' swearing, a bit of non-con touching.
Author's notes: This is pre-pre slash. I’m assuming that you are already familiar with the characters and the episodes. If not, go read some M7 summaries or M7 fiction and then come back. I dislike working an entire back story and character definitions into the opening paragraph of a story. It usually comes off as too contrived.
No one takes a tumble like Vin did down that hill and shakes it off for long. And I hated Charlotte. Soooo . . .
And a HUGE thank you to the pre-emminent Beta in the Universe, Fara.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M
Dry, brown grasses clicked and rustled in the early fall breeze as nine horses and eight riders made their way along the faint tracks left by the wagon train that had recently been left behind. The pack horse skittered suddenly as a rabbit burst away from the intruders. J.D. dropped back a bit to sooth the nerves of the pack horse and secure a sack of flour that threatened to slither out from under its bindings. It was an almost balmy afternoon, quiet except for the dull thud of horses hooves’ on hard earth, creaking saddles and the eerie summer-end song of hidden cicadas.
Chris Larabee turned in his saddle and looked back down the line of riders. They were spread out a bit, not willing to eat the dust of the horses in front of them. J.D., at the end of the disjointed line, was fiddling with the pack horse for some reason that escaped the gunslinger. A ways to the fore and right of him, Buck rode companionably by the side of Josiah. Both seemed to be nodding a bit in the saddle. Up and to the left of J.D. Ezra rode close by Nathan, heads bent toward each other in quiet conversation. Chris raised an eyebrow at that. You never could tell with those two. A little further afield Mary was holding a drowsing Billy before her on the saddle. Chris smiled. All of the excitement of the last few days seemed to have finally caught up with the young boy. He turned back again and looked up the trail to find that Vin had increased the distance between them. Vin had been subdued and distant since they had parted company with the homesteaders this morning.
Chris studied Vin for a moment. The tracker was leaning slightly to the left in his saddle, holding himself as still as possible on the moving horse. Once again Chris saw in his mind’s eye Vin’s ass-over-teakettle trip down the side of the steep hill and heard again his response to Chris’s question as to whether or not he was all right. “Most of me,” the young man had replied. Obviously he was being generous in his assessment. A hard tumble like that must have hurt like Hell. Chris jigged Pony just enough to speed him up a bit until the gunslinger drew alongside the young man.
“How you doin’ there?”
Vin slid his eyes momentarily to his friend’s face, then shifted his gaze out to the trail ahead. “Just a mite stiff. Nothing to worry on.”
Chris frowned for bit at the somber quietness in the tracker’s voice, falling into silence himself.
In truth, Vin hurt everywhere. Once the danger had passed, he’d started to feel every spot that had hit Mother Earth on his way to the bottom of that God-forsaken hill. His head was pounding, his back was on fire and his right knee felt like a spike had been driven through it. And his heart . . . well, that hurt worst of all. Chris interrupted his thoughts.
“What did you tell her?”
Vin studied the surrounding hills for a moment. “Told her I had changed my mind about the two of us,” he responded sullenly. Chris narrowed his eyes.
“And had you?”
The muscles in Vin’s jaw tightened as he shot Chris a dark, bitter look. “Yeah, Chris, I had. I made a mistake. Is that what ya want to hear? I wanted something’ that was never gonna be right, no matter what I did. I wanted her to fix somethin’ in me. Didn’t work. Ya happy?”
Vin glared at the older man, challenge in his features as he studied Chris. He dropped his gaze, then, and sighed, shoulders slumping. Chris frowned at the change. The usually rock-steady man next to him had been a jumble of conflicting emotions this entire trip and it unnerved him. The tracker’s cryptic explanation didn’t help. He tried again. “So you got it figured out?”
Vin laughed ruefully; bitterly. “Not that it’s gonna do me a God-damned bit of good, but yeah,” he turned his eyes once again to Chris’ and the gunslinger was mesmerized by the sorrow, despair and . . . something he couldn’t define in those wide, blue eyes. “I figured it out.”
With that, Vin mumbled something about scouting out the trail ahead, put heels to his horse’s flank and shot ahead, effectively ending the conversation.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M
Dusk was just beginning to fall when the group pulled up to a small copse of cottonwood trees around a tiny pool. The leaves of the cottonwood whispered and shivered in the early evening breeze as the riders slowly dismounted. Vin hesitated a moment, eyeing the ground in trepidation. With a sigh he swung his leg around and tried to dismount. Immediately his back flared and he sucked in a low breath. Josiah cocked his head to one side, gazing at the tracker with concern. Vin hung motionless, half in and half out of the saddle, afraid to set his right leg to the ground, knowing that his knee probably wouldn’t hold him. His spine felt like a herd of buffs had stampeded over it and his head just wanted to come off all together. The young man looked up again and was surprised to see that Josiah had somehow gotten from across the glen to his side without seeming to move at all. With a wide, toothy grin the ex-preacher looked up at Vin.
“Can I give you a hand?” Kind eyes pleaded with Vin to say “yes”. The tracker sighed again and nodded his assent.
“’Preciate it, J’siah. I’m a mite stoved up.”
Josiah nodded and smiled, then gently assisted his friend to the ground, allowing Vin to set the pace and taking some of the younger man’s weight until Vin was comfortable enough to limp along on his sore knee. By this time, more heads had turned to take in the scene and Nathan was frowning.
“Ah, Hell.” Vin breathed softly as he limped slowly toward the assembled riders. Chris frowned, too, then turned toward the others.
“Buck, get a fire going. Ez, see what we have in the packs and lend a hand to Mary. Josiah, J.D, we’ll unsaddle and picket the horses. Nathan . . .”
“I got it.” Nathan answered with a shake of his head as he made his way toward Vin. Billy trailed after him, wide eyed with anticipation. The healer took Vin by the elbow and helped him limp toward a fallen log. Settling the young man there he went off to find his saddlebags. Billy stood in front of Vin and eyed the tracker with unmitigated curiosity.
“Did ya get hurt in the fight, Vin?”
Vin stamped down the urge to roll his eyes as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chris drift closer, bedrolls in hand.
“Just took a bit of a spill, pard. Nothin’ to worry on. ‘Ol Nathan’ll have me fit as a fiddle in no time.” He was lying to beat the band and he knew it but he didn’t want Billy to worry and he didn’t want to give Chris the satisfaction of admitting that he hurt like Hell. Nathan plunked the saddlebag full of his medical wares down in front of Vin and ordered the young man to take his shirt off. Vin’s eyes widened.
“I ain’t takin’ my shirt off in front of a lady!” he hissed, totally scandalized by the request. Billy squealed with laughter. Vin’s head pounded harder. Nathan rolled his eyes.
“Well, Vin, we don’t have a lot of privacy here.” He turned to Mary. “Ms. Travis, would you mind fixin’ supper with your back to us, if that ain’t too much trouble?”
Mary smiled sweetly and consented. With her back now turned to the trio, Nathan once again turned and glared at the tracker.
“Off.”
Vin slumped in defeat and tugged at his braces. Buttons followed, then the shirt, followed by the undershirt. Billy’s eyes widened in surprise at the colorful array of bruises covering Vin’s torso but he stayed silent. The tracker felt someone’s gaze upon him and turned his head slightly to catch Chris’s eyes, stormy and worried, sweeping across his battered back. If not for the presence of the young boy next to him, he would have bet a few choice words would have burst forth from the intractable gunslinger. Chris abruptly turned and stalked away as Nathan began to dab Arnica balm over the bruises, asking questions of Vin as he worked.
Vin was soon settled against his saddle, knee wrapped securely and sipping a cup of willow bark tea for his “bit of a headache”. He watched Mary expertly put together a supper of skillet biscuits, salt pork and gravy. Ezra ground coffee for the pot and J.D. took several apples down to the pond to wash. Chris eyed the scene with satisfaction before turning to Buck.
“You’ll have first watch, then J.D., Ezra, Josiah and Nathan, two hours each. I’ll take last watch.”
Vin’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“What about me? I ain’t helpless, ya know. Just ‘cause I’ve got a coupla bruises don’t mean I can’t pull my fair share.”
Chris eyed the stubborn tracker evenly for a moment.
“We’ve got plenty of men to cover. Best you rest up that knee and that hard head of yours.”
Vin’s mouth tightened into a grim line. “Ya sayin’ ya still cain’t depend on me?” He shifted uncomfortably under the combined stares of his friends now. Chris’s eyes flashed in the light of the campfire.
“I’m sayin’ that you took a hard tumble and you can do with the rest, Vin. You sayin’ you’re not hurtin? ‘Cause I know da . . . ,“ he paused, flitting a glance to Mary and her young son, “’cause I know otherwise. It’s gonna be a long day in the saddle tomorrow and if you think you’re stiff and sore today, you wait until tomorrow eve. You’ll be lucky if Nathan isn’t plyin’ you with laudanum by then.”
Vin turned his head away from the stares and gazed out into the gathering darkness. A few late season fireflies twinkled lazily and he tried to concentrate on their ethereal beauty. He wouldn’t press the issue in front of others and couldn’t press it with Larabee, for the bastard was most likely right. He’d be damned if he ever admitted it, though. He heard the others begin to move about again as Mary announced in a falsely bright voice that supper was ready. Vin accepted a biscuit and some coffee but declined the rest. His head pounded and his gut churned. It was going to be a long trip back to Four Corners.
M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M7M
They rode into Four Corners on a warm, Indian Summer day that made the dying prairie grasses smell faintly of baking bread. Without the encumbrance of wagons, oxen, livestock and families, the Seven and Mary had retraced their steps in only three days as opposed to the twelve it had taken them to reach the homestead site.
Chris heaved a relieved sigh. It had been an uncomfortable three days for him. Vin had turned from his usual taciturn but companionable self into a moody, disagreeable asshole who had reduced his vocabulary to grudging monosyllables when prodded. Mary had hovered about Chris with bright smiles and longing glances, apparently waiting for the gunslinger to realize how lucky he was that she had chosen him instead of Gerard. That just made Larabee grind his teeth. He liked Mary well enough. She was attractive and mighty fine to look at. If he could have gotten under her skirts without the inconvenience of a wedding band, he’d have been there like greased lightning. Trouble was, he had no interest in marriage. Now the dang woman seemed to be hanging about waiting for him to realize how jealous he had been of Gerard and how close he had come to losing her. She was going to have a mighty long wait. Chris couldn’t wait to be shuck of all of them and reacquaint himself with a nice bottle of whiskey.
Vin looked about owlishly. He had been nodding off in the saddle shortly before they hit the edge of town. That bothered him. He was so tired the last few days. Sleeping in the saddle could get a body killed. His knee was much improved now that it had tight bindings to help support it. His back still hurt, but not the fiery agony of the first day or even the unbearable stiffness of yesterday. Now, if his head would just quit pounding, he would feel almost normal again.
Looking about him, Vin noticed he was the only one still in the saddle. He’d been woolgathering again. Swinging down quickly, the tracker stumbled momentarily as dizziness swept over him. Ezra put out a hand to steady him.
“Are you quite alright, Mr. Tanner?” the erudite gambler asked solicitously. Vin nodded and stepped away from his friend.
“Yeah, just m‘ knee. Thanks, Ez.”
They both raised their heads when a shout came from down the street. The McNally kid was running toward them, his red hair gleaming in the afternoon sun.
“Mr. Jackson! Mr. Jackson! Me Da sent me to town yesterday to find ye. He says to tell ye that he thinks me Ma’s got the lung fever. Can ye come?” the youngster huffed out as he slid to a stop in front of the healer. The Seven looked at each other. The McNally’s were an Irish family recently settled a good 4 hours ride out of town. Nathan sighed and nodded to the boy.
“Give me 10 minutes to round up what I’m going to need, son, and we’ll head out.” He turned to survey the others, his gaze finally falling on Vin. “You get plenty of rest and don’t be getting’ up to anything while I’m gone, ya hear me?”
Vin nodded and watched his friend stride quickly toward the clinic steps a few yards away. He grabbed Peso’s bridle and, with a slight limping gait, made his way slowly into the stable. J.D. brought Mary’s horse while Buck led the packhorse in. Even with the two extra horses to untack, Buck, J.D. and the others were done and gone by the time Vin was finished. His fingers had felt clumsy and thick, fumbling with the buckles and cinches. He blew out a frustrated breath. He was pretty sure by now that he had a concussion. Nothing to be done about it, though. He’d had ‘em before and he knew he just needed some rest and a little time to clear his head. He didn’t remember this weakness in his limbs from his previous knocks on the head, however. Didn’t matter. It would pass, given time.
Vin exited the stable and squinted in the westering sun. The bright sunlight sent hot shards of pain shooting through his head. Lowering his head to bring his hat brim down, Vin considered his options. He could eat but the thought of food made his stomach churn. He could go to the saloon but the noise would be unbearable and he didn’t feel like company. Pretty soon, he had no doubt that the tale of his indiscretion with a married lady would be making the rounds. Vin had no wish to be more of an object of scorn and ridicule than he already was. He sighed heavily. Sleep was his best bet. He trudged slowly toward his wagon.
Inside the saloon, Chris peered out over the batwing doors, watching Vin cross the street. He frowned and turned away. The last thing he wanted was to put up with more of Vin’s lovesick peevishness. He had escaped Mary by hightailing it to the saloon. It was good luck on his part to escape Vin as well, wasn’t it? He mentally shrugged and forced his thoughts in a different direction. He’d come in here to get away from all that. After days of it, he’d had enough drama from those two to last him a life time. It irritated him as well that Vin professed to know he was better off without Charlotte but he appeared to be moping about after her anyway. Chris gritted his teeth in frustration. There he was, thinking on Vin again! He swung himself toward the bar, determined to drink himself into a pleasant stupor where clingy women and hangdog friends didn’t exist.