Revelations 1/5 (The Magnificent Seven)
Title: Revelations
Author: iamstealthyone
Genre: Old West
Characters: Vin and Chris, with appearances by most of the other guys
Synopsis: When trouble comes to Four Corners, Chris and Vin’s friendship is strengthened. (Note: This story is set three weeks after the guys met, and was written in large part to explore when and how Vin learned about Sarah and Adam.)
Rating: PG-13 for violence and mild cursing
Disclaimer: Don’t own them. Not making money off of them.
Author’s Notes: This is my first “Magnificent Seven” fanfic. While I’ve been reading M7 fanfics since late last summer, I never expected to write one. I blame this story on two things. First, an Iron and Wine song, “He Lays in the Reins,” that’s been stuck in my head for two months, conjuring up images of the show. Second, the season-one DVDs that I got in December, allowing me to view all of the eps for the first time and gain a fuller appreciation of the guys.
Thanks to Renegade for providing a great beta read. I especially appreciate her assistance in working with me on Chris and Vin’s accents.
**
Revelations
1/5
“Somethin’ ain’t right.”
Vin Tanner’s soft drawl drew curious glances from the two men at his table. It had been an unusually quiet day, and as the afternoon sun began lazily sinking in the sky, Vin, Ezra Standish and Chris Larabee had happened into the saloon at about the same time. After a few minutes of casual conversation and long pulls on their drinks, Ezra had lured his companions into a game of poker. The mood had been calm and companionable.
Now, however, Chris sensed a change, a shift in the atmosphere, at least where Vin was concerned. The sharpshooter’s relaxed posture was at odds with his narrowed blue eyes, fixed on the bar like a predator sizing up its prey. The dark blond gunslinger followed his friend’s intent gaze across the smoky room to where two tall, grimy, dark-haired men leaned up against the bar. Chris hadn’t seen them in Four Corners before.
“Know ’em?” Larabee asked quietly, attention back on Tanner.
Without taking his eyes off the bar, the younger man shook his head and took a sip of beer.
“See something out of place?”
Vin shook his head again, continuing to observe the newcomers.
Ezra laughed softly as he smoothed a hand over his expensive, red silk jacket. “Then what, pray tell, ‘ain’t right,’ Mr. Tanner?”
“Jest a feelin’ is all.”
“A feeling?” The gambler arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps your days as a bounty hunter have made you more suspicious than necessary.” He studied the two men. “Those ruffians look no different than any of the other dusty denizens of our fair town.”
“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Vin quietly insisted.
Chris frowned and laid his cards face down on the table. He hadn’t known Tanner for very long. They’d met only three weeks ago while saving the town healer, Nathan Jackson, from a lynch mob. But from their brief time together, he knew the long-haired, buckskin-clad man was smart, someone who’d seen the worst of what men could do to each other. If the sharpshooter thought there might be a problem looming, then there might be a problem looming.
“Maybe Ezra can find out what they’re here for,” Chris suggested, his tone making the idea an order, rather than a request.
The gambler eyed the gunslinger, brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Ask them to join you for a game of cards. Talk to them and see if they’re staying in town awhile.”
“And why must I be the one to procure such information?”
For the first time since the newcomers had walked into the saloon, Vin looked away from them and at his friends. He cocked his head toward Ezra. “Cuz yer the least likely t’make ’em suspicious.” A mischievous smile played on his lips. “With them fancy clothes ‘n’ that shiny gold tooth, ya look like a harmless fella.”
The gambler frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” When he got no response, he sighed heavily. “And if I do obtain the information that will put your minds at ease, what shall be my reward? I assume it will be most handsome.”
Chris ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his temper as frustration rushed over him like a heat wave. He didn’t care much for Standish, in large part because the man had run out on them during the battle at the Seminole village. Still, the gambler had his uses.
“Ezra,” Larabee growled. “Just do it.”
The well-dressed man pushed back from the table, clearly not pleased, but nodded curtly, gathered up his deck of cards, and approached the bar. Nearly five minutes passed before he returned to the table and began shuffling the cards, eyes focused on the deft movements of his hands.
“I’m afraid I have little of substance to report,” he murmured. “They gave their names as Emilio and Raphael Cortez. Do those monikers perhaps engender some recognition from either of you?”
Vin’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”
The gambler rolled his eyes. “Do you know them by name?”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“Me, either,” Chris agreed.
“Well,” Ezra sighed. “I’m afraid they did not provide me with any truly enlightening discourse. After somewhat rudely refusing my offer for a game of chance, they merely said they’re passing through on their way to a new employment opportunity, something involving ranching. They said they’re spending one night in our illustrious town before sallying forth in the early morning.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Chris lit a cheroot. “You think they’re telling the truth?”
The gambler smiled widely, gold tooth gleaming faintly in the glow of a nearby kerosene lamp. “Why, Mr. Larabee, are you seeking my professional opinion? Admitting that my years of observing human nature make me indispensable when it comes to -- ”
“Just answer me,” the gunslinger ordered, green eyes glittering.
Ezra’s smile faded quickly. “Are they passing through? I believe so. Are they merely staying overnight, on their way to new employment? I believe that, too.” His expression grew harder. “Do they carry an air of danger about their persons? Yes. To what lengths they will go, and for what reasons, I do not know.”
Blowing out a plume of smoke, Chris frowned. Standish’s line of work, if you could call it that, required him to quickly size up a man. For the gambler and Vin both to believe the newcomers could be trouble didn’t bode well.
Vin took a last swallow of his beer and eyed the Cortez brothers, who were heading out of the saloon. “Like I said, Chris,” he murmured. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”
**
Four hours later, as many of Four Corners’ residents took to their beds, Vin stood a quiet watch outside of Virginia’s Hotel, the only illumination a small bonfire burning near the steps leading up to the front door. He’d hidden himself around the side of the structure, deep enough in the darkness to be hidden from casual passersby, but close enough to the entrance to hear if anyone came or went.
When the Cortez brothers had left the saloon, he’d told Chris he’d keep an eye on them and followed them to the hotel. The two men had crossed the short distance quickly, boots kicking up little puffs of dust underneath their feet. They’d talked animatedly, sometimes gesturing angrily, voices rising and falling and then rising again. Vin had figured they were arguing, but he’d been too far away to make out what they were discussing.
So here he was now, prepared to stand guard all night to make sure they didn’t try to harm anyone.
A familiar jingle of spurs alerted him to Chris’ arrival. He turned and nodded once at the gunslinger, barely able to make out the man’s features in the weak firelight.
Larabee jerked his head toward the hotel. “They still in there?”
“Yeah.”
“You still got a bad feeling?”
“Yeah.” Vin leaned his left side against the wall, his body in its customary slouch.
“Gonna sit out here all night?”
“Probably.”
“Want some company?”
The sharpshooter shrugged. “If ya like.”
Chris settled against the side of the hotel next to the other man, back resting against the wall. “Told the boys what’s going on. J.D.’s been looking through wanted posters at the jail, but he hasn’t found anything. Ezra’s going to stay at the saloon and see if anyone might have heard the Cortez brothers talking about anything out of the ordinary. Said he doesn’t mind staying all night if we need him to.”
Vin snickered softly. “Hell, Chris, Ezra’s always at the saloon.”
Chuckling, the other man nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if that man was born in one.”
“Or at a card table.” The sharpshooter looked up at the rising moon and sighed. “Beautiful, ain’t it? Floatin’ up ‘n’ shinin’ down like a piece o’heaven.”
The blond tilted his head up to follow the other man’s gaze. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a man who loves the outdoors as much as you.”
“Always have. Ain’t nothin’ finer than bein’ close t’nature.” At the gunslinger’s quiet snort, the younger man looked at his friend and grinned. “Well, maybe there is somethin’ finer.”
Lapsing into a comfortable silence, Vin watched the increasingly empty street activity and considered what, exactly, bothered him about the Cortez brothers. Like Ezra, he sensed something dangerous in them. They reminded him of rattlesnakes on the verge of striking at someone. With any luck, though, they’d ride out the next morning, and he’d be proved wrong.
Damned shame he didn’t believe much in luck.
“You hungry?” Chris asked, bringing his attention back to the man in black. “You never did eat supper. I can handle things here so you can get something before the restaurant closes.”
Vin hadn’t realized he’d missed supper until the blond mentioned it, and his stomach rumbled in response. He’d skipped meals before, though, and figured he’d be fine until the Cortez brothers left Four Corners.
“’M all right, Chris. Thanks.”
“Don’t trust me to keep watch, Tanner?” the gunslinger asked, a teasing note in his voice.
Vin shook his head. “Jest figure if anythin’ happens, I wanna be here for it.”
“I can bring you something to eat, then.”
The sharpshooter chuckled. “Hell, Larabee, ya tryin’ to be my pa?”
The other man’s jaw clenched, eyes briefly reflecting a deep pain. “Not tryin’ to be your pa,” the blond murmured. “Just your friend.”
Vin could see he’d struck a nerve, but was unsure exactly why his words had bothered his friend. Did Chris have a bad relationship with his pa? Or maybe he’d never even known his father …
Whatever the case, he wouldn’t pry. A man like Larabee didn’t open up easily, and wouldn’t appreciate a lot of personal questions. “Didn’t mean to offend ya,” he apologized.
“You didn’t.”
The brief response sounded genuine, so Vin let the subject drop, and the two men began discussing safer topics as they continued their vigil.
**
Part Two
Author: iamstealthyone
Genre: Old West
Characters: Vin and Chris, with appearances by most of the other guys
Synopsis: When trouble comes to Four Corners, Chris and Vin’s friendship is strengthened. (Note: This story is set three weeks after the guys met, and was written in large part to explore when and how Vin learned about Sarah and Adam.)
Rating: PG-13 for violence and mild cursing
Disclaimer: Don’t own them. Not making money off of them.
Author’s Notes: This is my first “Magnificent Seven” fanfic. While I’ve been reading M7 fanfics since late last summer, I never expected to write one. I blame this story on two things. First, an Iron and Wine song, “He Lays in the Reins,” that’s been stuck in my head for two months, conjuring up images of the show. Second, the season-one DVDs that I got in December, allowing me to view all of the eps for the first time and gain a fuller appreciation of the guys.
Thanks to Renegade for providing a great beta read. I especially appreciate her assistance in working with me on Chris and Vin’s accents.
**
Revelations
1/5
“Somethin’ ain’t right.”
Vin Tanner’s soft drawl drew curious glances from the two men at his table. It had been an unusually quiet day, and as the afternoon sun began lazily sinking in the sky, Vin, Ezra Standish and Chris Larabee had happened into the saloon at about the same time. After a few minutes of casual conversation and long pulls on their drinks, Ezra had lured his companions into a game of poker. The mood had been calm and companionable.
Now, however, Chris sensed a change, a shift in the atmosphere, at least where Vin was concerned. The sharpshooter’s relaxed posture was at odds with his narrowed blue eyes, fixed on the bar like a predator sizing up its prey. The dark blond gunslinger followed his friend’s intent gaze across the smoky room to where two tall, grimy, dark-haired men leaned up against the bar. Chris hadn’t seen them in Four Corners before.
“Know ’em?” Larabee asked quietly, attention back on Tanner.
Without taking his eyes off the bar, the younger man shook his head and took a sip of beer.
“See something out of place?”
Vin shook his head again, continuing to observe the newcomers.
Ezra laughed softly as he smoothed a hand over his expensive, red silk jacket. “Then what, pray tell, ‘ain’t right,’ Mr. Tanner?”
“Jest a feelin’ is all.”
“A feeling?” The gambler arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps your days as a bounty hunter have made you more suspicious than necessary.” He studied the two men. “Those ruffians look no different than any of the other dusty denizens of our fair town.”
“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Vin quietly insisted.
Chris frowned and laid his cards face down on the table. He hadn’t known Tanner for very long. They’d met only three weeks ago while saving the town healer, Nathan Jackson, from a lynch mob. But from their brief time together, he knew the long-haired, buckskin-clad man was smart, someone who’d seen the worst of what men could do to each other. If the sharpshooter thought there might be a problem looming, then there might be a problem looming.
“Maybe Ezra can find out what they’re here for,” Chris suggested, his tone making the idea an order, rather than a request.
The gambler eyed the gunslinger, brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Ask them to join you for a game of cards. Talk to them and see if they’re staying in town awhile.”
“And why must I be the one to procure such information?”
For the first time since the newcomers had walked into the saloon, Vin looked away from them and at his friends. He cocked his head toward Ezra. “Cuz yer the least likely t’make ’em suspicious.” A mischievous smile played on his lips. “With them fancy clothes ‘n’ that shiny gold tooth, ya look like a harmless fella.”
The gambler frowned. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” When he got no response, he sighed heavily. “And if I do obtain the information that will put your minds at ease, what shall be my reward? I assume it will be most handsome.”
Chris ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his temper as frustration rushed over him like a heat wave. He didn’t care much for Standish, in large part because the man had run out on them during the battle at the Seminole village. Still, the gambler had his uses.
“Ezra,” Larabee growled. “Just do it.”
The well-dressed man pushed back from the table, clearly not pleased, but nodded curtly, gathered up his deck of cards, and approached the bar. Nearly five minutes passed before he returned to the table and began shuffling the cards, eyes focused on the deft movements of his hands.
“I’m afraid I have little of substance to report,” he murmured. “They gave their names as Emilio and Raphael Cortez. Do those monikers perhaps engender some recognition from either of you?”
Vin’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh?”
The gambler rolled his eyes. “Do you know them by name?”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“Me, either,” Chris agreed.
“Well,” Ezra sighed. “I’m afraid they did not provide me with any truly enlightening discourse. After somewhat rudely refusing my offer for a game of chance, they merely said they’re passing through on their way to a new employment opportunity, something involving ranching. They said they’re spending one night in our illustrious town before sallying forth in the early morning.”
Nodding thoughtfully, Chris lit a cheroot. “You think they’re telling the truth?”
The gambler smiled widely, gold tooth gleaming faintly in the glow of a nearby kerosene lamp. “Why, Mr. Larabee, are you seeking my professional opinion? Admitting that my years of observing human nature make me indispensable when it comes to -- ”
“Just answer me,” the gunslinger ordered, green eyes glittering.
Ezra’s smile faded quickly. “Are they passing through? I believe so. Are they merely staying overnight, on their way to new employment? I believe that, too.” His expression grew harder. “Do they carry an air of danger about their persons? Yes. To what lengths they will go, and for what reasons, I do not know.”
Blowing out a plume of smoke, Chris frowned. Standish’s line of work, if you could call it that, required him to quickly size up a man. For the gambler and Vin both to believe the newcomers could be trouble didn’t bode well.
Vin took a last swallow of his beer and eyed the Cortez brothers, who were heading out of the saloon. “Like I said, Chris,” he murmured. “Somethin’ ain’t right.”
**
Four hours later, as many of Four Corners’ residents took to their beds, Vin stood a quiet watch outside of Virginia’s Hotel, the only illumination a small bonfire burning near the steps leading up to the front door. He’d hidden himself around the side of the structure, deep enough in the darkness to be hidden from casual passersby, but close enough to the entrance to hear if anyone came or went.
When the Cortez brothers had left the saloon, he’d told Chris he’d keep an eye on them and followed them to the hotel. The two men had crossed the short distance quickly, boots kicking up little puffs of dust underneath their feet. They’d talked animatedly, sometimes gesturing angrily, voices rising and falling and then rising again. Vin had figured they were arguing, but he’d been too far away to make out what they were discussing.
So here he was now, prepared to stand guard all night to make sure they didn’t try to harm anyone.
A familiar jingle of spurs alerted him to Chris’ arrival. He turned and nodded once at the gunslinger, barely able to make out the man’s features in the weak firelight.
Larabee jerked his head toward the hotel. “They still in there?”
“Yeah.”
“You still got a bad feeling?”
“Yeah.” Vin leaned his left side against the wall, his body in its customary slouch.
“Gonna sit out here all night?”
“Probably.”
“Want some company?”
The sharpshooter shrugged. “If ya like.”
Chris settled against the side of the hotel next to the other man, back resting against the wall. “Told the boys what’s going on. J.D.’s been looking through wanted posters at the jail, but he hasn’t found anything. Ezra’s going to stay at the saloon and see if anyone might have heard the Cortez brothers talking about anything out of the ordinary. Said he doesn’t mind staying all night if we need him to.”
Vin snickered softly. “Hell, Chris, Ezra’s always at the saloon.”
Chuckling, the other man nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if that man was born in one.”
“Or at a card table.” The sharpshooter looked up at the rising moon and sighed. “Beautiful, ain’t it? Floatin’ up ‘n’ shinin’ down like a piece o’heaven.”
The blond tilted his head up to follow the other man’s gaze. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a man who loves the outdoors as much as you.”
“Always have. Ain’t nothin’ finer than bein’ close t’nature.” At the gunslinger’s quiet snort, the younger man looked at his friend and grinned. “Well, maybe there is somethin’ finer.”
Lapsing into a comfortable silence, Vin watched the increasingly empty street activity and considered what, exactly, bothered him about the Cortez brothers. Like Ezra, he sensed something dangerous in them. They reminded him of rattlesnakes on the verge of striking at someone. With any luck, though, they’d ride out the next morning, and he’d be proved wrong.
Damned shame he didn’t believe much in luck.
“You hungry?” Chris asked, bringing his attention back to the man in black. “You never did eat supper. I can handle things here so you can get something before the restaurant closes.”
Vin hadn’t realized he’d missed supper until the blond mentioned it, and his stomach rumbled in response. He’d skipped meals before, though, and figured he’d be fine until the Cortez brothers left Four Corners.
“’M all right, Chris. Thanks.”
“Don’t trust me to keep watch, Tanner?” the gunslinger asked, a teasing note in his voice.
Vin shook his head. “Jest figure if anythin’ happens, I wanna be here for it.”
“I can bring you something to eat, then.”
The sharpshooter chuckled. “Hell, Larabee, ya tryin’ to be my pa?”
The other man’s jaw clenched, eyes briefly reflecting a deep pain. “Not tryin’ to be your pa,” the blond murmured. “Just your friend.”
Vin could see he’d struck a nerve, but was unsure exactly why his words had bothered his friend. Did Chris have a bad relationship with his pa? Or maybe he’d never even known his father …
Whatever the case, he wouldn’t pry. A man like Larabee didn’t open up easily, and wouldn’t appreciate a lot of personal questions. “Didn’t mean to offend ya,” he apologized.
“You didn’t.”
The brief response sounded genuine, so Vin let the subject drop, and the two men began discussing safer topics as they continued their vigil.
**
Part Two