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AUTHOR:
SueN
UNIVERSE:
OW
PAIRING:
C/V (surprise!)
DISCLAIMER:
Not mine, all theirs, no money. Happy now?
NOTES:
Well, since so many of y'all are still stuck in winter, I thought
I'd try to make the cold bearable <g>. Not much of a plot
here; I trust y'all will forgive me. ;-) Thanks as always to Miz
Ruby for catching my typos and just being my friend. Love ya, hon!
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He
held firmly to the reins and ruthlessly urged his reluctant, protesting
horse onward, straight into the teeth of the storm. It had blown
in with a shocking suddenness, the wind roaring out of the north
like a runaway train, and now raged with a bone-cutting fury, lashing
him with the ice and snow it carried on its frozen breath. Caught
out in the open with no bolt-hole to tuck into for cover, he had
no choice but to try and make his way through it to the shack that
was his only hope.
If
he didn’t reach it soon, he’d die.
Peso
balked again and fought the bit, turning once more out of the wind,
stubbornly determined to head south. But Vin was every bit as stubborn
and yanked him back around, spitting curses and spurring him angrily
until the damn fool animal lowered his head and resumed his grudging
northward trek. Tanner could understand the gelding’s reluctance;
hell, he wasn’t exactly happy about this himself. The cold had already
penetrated through his coat and the layers of clothes beneath it,
and he could feel a dangerous wetness against his skin where the
sleet and snow had seeped through, too. His eyes watered from the
stinging cold and his face burned beneath the ice-crusted woolen
scarf that covered it. Stiff fingers ached in wet gloves and his
feet had long since gone numb.
Lord,
it couldn’t be much further … could it?
He
didn’t think so, but knew that right now his thoughts weren’t worth
a plug nickel. His mind was beginning to wander dangerously, his
thoughts growing increasingly sluggish and confused, refusing to
stay focused. He’d dismounted once, had thought walking might bring
a measure of warmth, might clear his head, but had abandoned that
effort after the second time he’d fallen and had only barely managed
to haul himself back to his feet. Now, the idea of laying down and
going to sleep seemed awfully appealing.
The
cold was getting to him.
He
lifted his head with an effort and tried to focus on his surroundings.
But the constant and directionless swirl of snow dazed him, disoriented
him, gave him a strange feeling of vertigo. Worried now about falling
out of the saddle, he took the reins in one hand and wrapped the
other firmly around the saddle horn, knowing that to lose his seat
now would doom him. He shook his head to clear it and licked frozen
lips, forcing himself to look through the snow for the landmarks
he so desperately needed.
Lord,
if he’d wandered off the trail …
No.
No, this was right, it had to be. He’d been going on instinct,
and his instincts had never failed him. Not where Chris was concerned.
This was the way to the cabin, the way to Chris, he knew
it on a level deeper than instinct. Felt it burning like the tiniest
flame inside him, the only warmth left to him. Chris was safety,
shelter, his surest refuge from any storm that battered him. The
man exerted a pull on him that he felt in every part of his being,
that throbbed in his heart and coursed through his blood and whispered
on his every breath. Even exhausted and half-frozen he could feel
it, and he trusted to it now as he did nothing else.
Ignoring
sight and thought, he spurred Peso forward one more time and let
his heart lead him home.
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Chris
fed another piece of wood into the fire blazing in the hearth, welcoming
the feel of the heat against his fingers. The ice storm had sent
temperatures plummeting, and he had little doubt that with the coming
of night they would fall further still. That thought, and the soft
sound of sleet hitting the roof, made him immensely grateful that
he’d decided not to head back to town this afternoon after all.
Would’ve
been miserable getting caught out in this.
He
rolled his shoulders reflexively at that thought, almost able to
feel the bite of ice against his skin. But as he cast an appraising
gaze about the interior of the small cabin, he knew he had no cause
for worry. The new roof he and Vin had put on in the fall showed
no leaks so far, and the mortar he and the tracker had mixed and
so laboriously slathered into the chinks between the logs kept the
wind from whistling through the walls. New glass in the window panes
also helped to keep the weather outside, where it belonged.
A
soft chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. For a place that
had started out as nothing more than an escape from troubles in
town, this cabin was looking more and more like home. New – and
whole – muslin curtains hung at the windows, replacing the dirty,
tattered scraps that had once sufficed, a real bed had finally replaced
his rickety cot in the corner, and a large rocking chair sat only
a few feet from him.
All
he needed was a vase of fresh flowers on the mantel.
He
rose to his feet and turned away from the hearth, then crossed to
the stove where a pot simmered. Using a folded bandanna to protect
his hand from burning, he lifted the lid from the pot and leaned
over, inhaling deeply of the rich aroma. Venison stew, made from
one of Vin’s kills. And yet another sign of how much of a home his
“shack in the hills” was becoming. Where once he’d kept only whiskey,
coffee and a bag of beans or two on dusty shelves, he now boasted
a larder fully stocked with dry goods, staple items and canned goods,
along with a smokehouse out back that Tanner kept well provisioned
with fish and game for drying and curing. The tracker had even begun
tanning a few hides for rugs.
Hell,
maybe they were both settling down.
A
smile teased his mouth as he took up a spoon and stirred the stew.
Settling down. Home. Words he’d once thought would never hold meaning
for him again but that now lived and breathed within him. That had
been given life and breath by Vin Tanner. No more than a fiddle-footed
stray himself who’d spent his life merely ghosting around the edges
of what he’d thought beyond his reach, Vin had somehow given him
back all he’d lost, and so much more besides.
Strange
how things worked out.
His
smile turned wry and he shook his head slightly. Strange.
He knew that was one way of looking at his relationship with Vin,
but it would never be his way. Oh, his mind had fought it
at first, unable to accept this feeling for another man as love.
But his mind’s fight had been doomed by his heart, which had known
the truth all along. He loved Vin as he’d only ever loved one other
person in his life, loved Tanner with the same depth and fullness
that he had Sarah, loved the man as he’d loved the woman, with all
that he had and all that he was. And, with Vin as with Sarah, had
been made so much more in that loving.
Nope,
wasn’t a thing in the world strange about it.
He
set the spoon aside and replaced the lid on the pot to let the stew
simmer a while longer. Turning away from the stove, he crossed the
cabin to one of the windows and pushed aside the curtain, shivering
absently as he stared out into the storm. A good layer of snow already
covered the ground, and it showed no sign of letting up any time
soon. If anything, the flakes were getting bigger, falling faster.
If it kept up, there’d be a couple of inches on the ground by morning–
“What
the hell?” he breathed, leaning closer to the window and peering
into the storm as a bulky dark shadow suddenly appeared through
the wild swirl of white. The shadow moved slowly forward, gradually
assumed a recognizable form, and Larabee’s heart slammed into his
ribs. “Oh, shit, Vin!”
In
a heartbeat he was spinning away from the window and rushing for
the door, throwing it open even as he snatched his coat from the
peg where it hung. Racing outside as he shrugged into the coat,
he took the small porch in three long strides and jumped down, slipping
momentarily on the slick ground before he found his footing.
“Vin!”
he shouted into the fierce, frigid wind. Tanner gave no sign of
hearing or seeing him, sat slumped on the back of his slow-moving
horse, his head hanging down. Fear twisted in Chris’s gut and he
raced toward the tracker, flinching from the sting of ice against
his face and the burn of the frozen air in his lungs. “Damn it,
Vin, answer me!”
Peso
shied skittishly at the sight of the onrushing man, tossing his
head and snorting warningly, his frayed nerves showing in he whites
of his rolling eyes. Chris immediately slowed his pace at the flash
of the big horse’s dangerous temper, instinctively knowing that
if Peso went into one of his fits, Vin wouldn’t be able to hang
on.
“Easy,
boy,” he soothed, pitching his voice low and slowly raising his
hands. “It’s just me. You know I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” Peso snorted
again and pawed fretfully at the ground, but held himself in place.
Uttering a soft litany of assurances to the gelding, Chris slowly
extended a hand, holding it close enough for Peso to catch his scent.
And
close enough for the damn man-eater to bite …
But
he didn’t. He snuffled cautiously at the hand, then snorted again
and dipped his nose into it, signaling his recognition. Relieved,
Chris caressed the blazed face for a few moments, wanting to be
certain the big horse was truly settled before he moved.
Just
never did pay to spook this one …
But
even as he worked at calming Peso, he stared fixedly at the slumped
figure in the saddle. Vin was shivering visibly, violently, his
hat, hair and clothing crusted with ice, one gloved hand curled
around the pommel, the other only barely rasping the reins in a
frightfully slack hold. Chris’s fear solidified in his chest and
he moved away from Peso’s head, going slowly to the tracker and
reaching out to lay a hand on Tanner’s thigh. He flinched at the
wetness of the trousers beneath his fingers.
“Vin?”
he called hoarsely. “Can you hear me, partner?”
Long
moments passed, but slowly, slowly Vin lifted his head a bit, roused
from his stupor by the familiar voice. “C– Chris?” he stammered
in a thin, strained whisper.
“Yeah,
Vin, it’s me,” he said, moving closer still. He stared intently
into what little of the tracker’s face he could see between hat
and scarf, not at all liking the unfocused dullness of Vin’s blue
eyes. “We gotta get you down,” he said with a calm he was far from
feeling. “Get you inside and warmed up. You think you can do that?”
Vin
puzzled over the words, not quite understanding them. “Got c– caught,”
he whispered thickly, lips and tongue refusing to work just right.
“Storm … b– blew up … outta n– nowhere. C– couldn’t f– find … nowhere
… t’ h– hide.”
“I
know,” Chris soothed, slowly stroking Tanner’s thigh, growing more
frightened for him by the second. “But you’re safe now. We’ll get
you down and I’ll take care of you. How’s that sound?”
“C–
cold …”
“I
know.” He stepped closer still and reached up, unwinding Tanner’s
hands from pommel and reins, then sliding an arm around the younger
man’s waist and pulling Vin’s arm over his shoulders. “You lean
on me, partner,” he ordered gently, “let me help you down. You think
you can do that?”
Vin
gave no response for long moments, as if he hadn’t heard. Then his
head dipped in a small nod and, as if simply unable to hold himself
in it any longer, he began sliding from the saddle.
But
Chris was ready and caught him, supporting his near-dead weight
as he eased him off the horse. Vin’s knees buckled as his feet finally
touched the ground, Chris’s secure hold all that kept him from falling.
“I
gotcha,” Chris soothed, tightening his arms about the badly-shaking
body, not sure how much of that shaking was due to cold and how
much just to Vin being completely played out. “Lean on me, and I’ll
getcha inside.”
“P–
Peso,” Vin managed to get out through chattering teeth.
“I’ll
come back for him, I promise. I’ll tend him real good.”
“I
t– told him … g– get me h– home.” Vin looked at Chris then and seemed
to see him for the first time. “I reckon … he d– did.” His eyes
glazed over and rolled back in his head and he collapsed, a limp,
dead weight in Larabee’s arms.
But
again Chris kept him from falling. “Yeah,” he whispered harshly,
his heart clenching painfully in his chest. “I reckon he did.”
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Chris
eased the unconscious tracker carefully onto the floor in front
of the hearth, propping the inert man against him to strip him of
his wet gloves, half-frozen coat and heavy gunbelt. Once those were
gone, he laid Vin back and moved down to his feet to remove his
boots and socks, then began vigorously rubbing the man’s icy feet,
examining them closely for the tell-tale signs of frostbite. When
he saw none, a leaden weight seemed to fall from his chest.
Maybe
he hadn’t been out in it too long, then.
He
released Vin’s foot and moved back up to his side, repeating the
action with his hands, finding them deathly cold but also clear
of any sign of frostbite. Another wave of relief swept through him,
wringing a hard gust of air from him. He leaned over Vin, intending
to start stripping him of however many shirts he was wearing, but
instead cupped a trembling hand to a cold, whiskered cheek.
“Gotta
stop scarin’ me like this, Tanner,” he rasped, gently stroking the
younger man’s slack, pale face. Vin’s lips were blue and badly chapped,
and Chris brushed a thumb lightly over them. “Got some salve here
somewhere that should help with this. Guess I should try to find
it.” But that would have to wait. First he had to get these wet
clothes off and restore some warmth to the freezing man. He slid
his hand down to Vin’s throat and rested his thumb against the pulse
there, needing to feel that throb of life. “Jesus, Tanner,” he sighed,
shaking his head at his own foolishness. “What the hell have you
done to me?”
Vin
stirred and murmured faintly, his head moving weakly against the
floor, his face twisting into a mask of distress. Before the nightmare
could take hold, though, Chris leaned over him and pressed his lips
to the tracker’s icy flesh. “Ssh,” he whispered, brushing tender
kisses against Tanner’s forehead, brows and eyelids. “It’s all right,
Vin, you’re safe,” he murmured between kisses. “I’m here. I gotcha.
You’re safe.”
Vin
sighed softly and relaxed, his face easing once more into peaceful
lines. But as Chris straightened, his eyelids fluttered and slowly
opened, revealing two hazy slits of blue. “Chris,” he breathed,
knowing instinctively who was with him even before he saw him. “Found
ya.”
Chris
smiled and reached down to stroke the damp, curling hair off his
forehead. “Didn’t know I was lost,” he joked.
Vin
stared up at him, sleepy blue eyes fixed on the gunman’s face, and
licked dry, cracked lips with an equally dry tongue. “’S afraid
… fer a while … that I was,” he said, his voice far raspier than
usual. “Weren’t sure … I’s gonna make it through.”
Chris
ruthlessly shoved aside the fear those words inspired and swallowed
hard. “But you did. Now we gotta get these clothes off, get you
warmed up.” He forced a strained smile. “Makes me cold just lookin’
at ya.”
Vin
licked his lips again, then struggled to sit up. But exhaustion
still gripped him, his strength drained by his exposure to and fight
against the storm, and he slumped forward as a wave of vertigo hit
him. “Oh, shit …”
“Whoa,
easy, partner!” Chris urged, quickly slipping behind him and wrapping
strong arms about the bowed and shaking body to cradle the tracker
close against himself. “Just take it easy. You’ve had a hard ride.”
Vin
exhaled unsteadily and sank eagerly, gratefully, into that embrace,
taking refuge in Larabee’s warmth and strength. He closed his eyes
and rested easily against Chris, knowing with instinctive certainty
that he was safe here as he’d never be anywhere else.
Keeping
one arm tightly about the tracker, Chris began working at the buttons
of the man’s shirt with his other hand, knowing he had to get him
out of the wet clothes as quickly as possible. Vin clumsily half-helped
him, and between the two of them, though mostly in spite of Vin’s
efforts, they soon had him stripped. Then, practically having to
tear himself from Tanner’s side, Chris left him huddled naked and
shivering before the fire to round up whatever blankets were closest
to hand.
Vin
folded his legs against his chest and wrapped his arms around them,
then dropped his head onto them, colder than he could ever remember
being. The fire was beginning to work on him, but not nearly fast
enough. Violent tremors shook him as painful chills raced through
him, seeming to slice into his very soul.
“Here.”
Chris returned and dropped to his knees at Vin’s side, wrapping
one blanket close about him and following it with another, then
folding the quilt he’d snatched off the bed and laying it on the
floor, helping Vin shift onto it. “Now, lemme see your feet.” When
Vin wriggled them out from under the blankets, Chris slipped a pair
of thick socks on them, then tucked the blankets back over them.
“You all right here, or you wanta go to bed?”
“Stay
here,” Vin croaked, head still on his knees. “Need the fire.”
“Okay.
But how ’bout I get you a pillow and you lay down? You’re not far
from topplin’ over.”
“’Kay.”
Chris
kissed the top of his head, then rose to his feet and went to the
bed, snagging the pillow from it and taking it back to Vin. He helped
the tracker lie back on the pallet he’d made and rearranged the
blankets over him, tucking them close as Vin curled into a tight,
shaking ball beneath them.
“Okay,
you rest here,” he said quietly, gently stroking Tanner’s forehead
with the pad of his thumb. “I’m gonna go take care of Peso. I’ll
be back as soon as I can.”
Vin
merely nodded, too exhausted and too cold to form words. Beneath
the tender caress of that thumb, his eyelids drooped heavily, then
slid closed. Unable any longer to resist its pull, he drifted into
sleep, knowing it was finally safe to do so.
He’d
made it home.
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Chris
shrugged out of his shirt, peeled off his wet britches and stripped
off his underwear, then slipped under the blankets covering Vin,
fitting himself close against the tracker’s naked backside and shivering
as that contact only heightened his own chill. Vin was no longer
deathly cold, but was still far from warm. Realizing with a sickening
twist at his gut how close he’d come to losing him, Chris pressed
himself more closely still against the younger man and wrapped his
arms tightly about the lean body, burying his face in the nape of
Tanner’s neck and just breathing in his scent.
Vin
was here, and he was alive.
Chris
simply held him for long, long minutes, reassuring himself that,
for now anyway, his world was still whole. He slid one hand over
Vin’s chest to his heart and held it there, concentrating on that
beat. Slower than usual, not quite as strong, but, merciful God,
still there.
And
so long as Vin’s heart beat, so could his.
He
knew it was dangerous, this deep need he had for the man in his
arms. The very love that had healed him, saved him, could also shatter
and damn him. Loving a man like Vin Tanner, a man with a price on
his head, a man whose very existence was as precarious as any Larabee
had ever known, wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done.
But
it certainly had to be one of the best.
Vin
murmured faintly and stirred slightly and Chris tightened his arms
about him, nuzzling through the long, curling hair to press soft,
tender kisses to the nape of the tracker’s neck. “Ssh,” he whispered
against the still too-cool flesh there. “Just rest. I gotcha. You’re
all right.” Vin sighed and settled once more, and Chris smiled at
such deep and complete trust from a man who had so very little of
it to give.
Maybe
being smart wasn’t everything.
Vin
shivered again and nestled closer to Chris, the cold still clinging
to him. Chris sighed and unwound one arm from Tanner, pulled it
free of the blankets and reached back behind him, groping blindly
for what he’d left there. While stripping Peso earlier, he’d remembered
that during winter Vin carried a cut-down buffalo robe as part of
his bedroll, swearing it was warmer than any soogan could be. Chris
had brought in the tracker’s bedroll along with the rest of his
belongings, had opened it and pulled out that robe, marveling at
the buttery softness of the hide on one side and the thickness of
the fur on the other.
Damn
shame there weren’t any buffalo around here …
Chuckling
at the ridiculous vision of himself accompanying Vin on a buffalo
hunt, he pulled the heavy robe over them both and spread and straightened
it as best he could. And chuckled again as Vin, the toughest, deadliest
man he’d ever known, sighed and burrowed under it like a child seeking
the security of his mama’s skirts.
“Damn
thin-blooded Texan,” he murmured fondly. “Don’t know why you don’t
just hibernate like the bears.”
But
it wasn’t simply the robe’s weight and warmth that soothed Vin.
Even in sleep, the sheer feel of it, along with its familiar
scent, reached him, spoke to him of sweet times spent with people
not his own yet who had been more to him, been better to him, than
his “own” ever had. The robe spoke to him of home.
As
did the man who shared its comfort with him. He pressed more closely
against the body cradling his, shivering reflexively as its warmth
seeped into him and loosened the grip of the cold that had held
him fast for so long. The storm with all its frozen savagery at
last began to fade from his mind, its fury and the fear it had inspired
in him banished by the solid strength of the man who held him so
securely.
Chris.
“Ssh,”
Chris murmured as Vin whispered his name. He pressed another kiss
to the nape of the tracker’s neck, hoping to soothe him into deeper
sleep. “It’s all right. You just rest.”
But
wakefulness only grew more insistent. That kiss sank softly into
Vin’s consciousness, and his body registered increasing awareness
of the feel of Chris’s spooned up against it. Chris’s arms were
wrapped around him, Larabee’s legs were entwined with his, and his
ass was nestled snugly into the other man’s groin. And while there
was, as yet, nothing sexual to their closeness, still the pleasure
of it was more than he could ignore or deny. Even at the expense
of the sleep he so needed.
He
sighed drowsily and turned onto his back in Chris’s arms, smiling
sleepily at the gunman. “Mornin’,” he drawled softly.
Chris
chuckled softly. “Not hardly.” He frowned then and moved a hand
to Vin’s face, stroking lightly. “How you doin’?”
A
flippant answer rose immediately to Vin’s tongue, but, seeing the
true worry in the green eyes fixed so intently upon him, he knew
the man needed more. “Reckon I’m a helluva lot better now’n I was,”
he rasped. “I gotta tell ya, cowboy, fer a while out there I wasn’t
sure I’s gonna make it. When that storm blew up …” He shivered at
the memory and instinctively huddled closer to Chris, curling into
him and settling his head into the junction of Larabee’s shoulder
and neck.
Chris
immediately tightened his arms about Vin and held him close, knowing
from what Tanner wasn’t saying just how close a thing it
had been. “But you did make it,” he said roughly. “You’re here now,
and you’re safe.”
“Yeah,”
Vin sighed happily, sliding an arm about Larabee’s trim waist and
slipping a leg between the man’s two. “’At’s what kep’ me goin’,
thinkin’ about you, knowin’ you’d be waitin’ on me. Couldn’t stand
the thought of never seein’ you again.” He buried his face in the
warmth of Larabee’s throat. “Reckon I lied to ya that time I told
ya I ain’t afraid ’a dyin’,” he breathed. “Truth is, these days
the thought of it terrifies me. I jist ain’t ready t’ leave ya yet.”
Chris
rested a cheek against Tanner’s shaggy head and slowly stroked the
man’s naked back, deeply grateful to feel the warmth creeping back
into the Texan’s flesh. “That’s all right,” he answered hoarsely.
“I ain’t ready t’ let you go yet.” He smiled faintly, treasuring
the feel of this man against him. “I’ve gotten too used to havin’
you around complicatin’ my life.”
“You
ol’ sweet-talker,” Vin teased on a raspy chuckle. “Yer like t’ turn
my head here.”
“Hope
not,” Chris breathed, sweeping up a hand to comb his fingers slowly
through Tanner’s long hair. “Kinda like it right where it is.” He
continued to stroke Vin’s hair, a small, puzzled frown tugging at
the corners of his mouth as he wondered yet again how Tanner had
gotten caught out in the first place. The man was an expert at reading
weather signs and, as Buck said, “had more hidey-holes than a whole
prairie dog colony.” Didn’t seem likely that Vin Tanner of all men
would get taken by surprise. “So what happened?” he asked. “What
were you doin’ out in that mess anyway?”
Vin
grimaced and snorted in self-disgust. “Weren’t payin’ attention,
I reckon.” At Chris’s confused look, he explained, “Nettie come
inta town yesterday mornin’, said a wolf’s been raidin’ her place
an’ some ’a the other homesteads here’bouts. Got a bunch ’a her
chickens an’ one ’a Jed Crowley’s calves.”
Chris’s
frown deepened. “What’s a wolf doin’ huntin’ so close in? Winter
ain’t been that hard.”
“Yeah,
that’s what I thought,” Vin said. “Figgered somethin’ had t’ be
wrong, so I took out after him. Couldn’t take the chance on him
mebbe hurtin’ somebody. Mebbe bein’ sick. Spent all day yesterday
an’ most ’a this mornin’ trackin’ him.” He exhaled sharply and scowled.
“Only I got so wrapped up in what I’s doin’, I reckon I didn’t pay
no mind t’ what was blowin’ in.”
Chris
permitted himself a slight smile, knowing from experience just how
single-minded Tanner could be on the trail. “So did you get him?”
Vin
pulled out of his arms and sat up abruptly, shooting him an outraged
look. “What the hell kinda question is that?” he barked.
Chris
chuckled at the tracker’s affront. “Sorry, forgot who I was talkin’
to.”
“Did
I get him,” Vin huffed, insulted by the very question. “Like I ain’t
been doin’ this near my whole life. Hell, I ain’t some green kid,
y’know! The day I cain’t track a damn wolf–”
“I
said I was sorry!” Chris protested sharply, hoping to interrupt
the tirade before it began. “Jesus, you’re touchy!”
Vin
lifted his chin and scowled at the gunman. “Jist cain’t believe
you’d even ask is all,” he scolded. “Y’ ever heard me ask you
that when you’s aimin’ at somebody? An’ I reckon I been trackin’
near as long as you been shootin’ folks–”
“I’m
about to shoot one more,” Chris warned, arching a brow. “You are
an irritatin’ sonuvabitch, you know that?”
“Must
be the comp’ny I keep,” he growled. “Did I get him? Hmph!”
“Well,”
Chris slanted a teasing grin at the seething tracker, “did you?”
“An’
ya call me irritatin’!” Vin snapped. “Hell, yeah, I got him!
Got him clean, with one shot–” He broke off then and winced, his
annoyance with Chris fading as he thought of the wolf he’d killed.
“Turns out he was crippled in one leg, couldn’t hunt in the wild
no more,” he said softly. “’At’s why he’d sunk t’ raidin’ homesteads.”
He shook his head slowly, still saddened by the memory of the once-proud
animal reduced to scavenging for his survival. “I had t’ shoot him.
Didn’t take no pleasure in doin’ it–”
“You
had no choice,” Chris said quietly, hearing the regret in the tracker’s
voice and understanding its cause. Tanner had a deep affinity for
creatures of the wild, was damn near one of them himself. “Bein’
crippled and bein’ hungry woulda made him unpredictable. And dangerous.”
He sat up, then reached out to pull the buffalo robe around Vin’s
slumped shoulders. “Besides, you did him a favor,” he said gently,
slipping a hand under Tanner’s chin and lifting until their eyes
met. “Raidin’ farms wasn’t the life he was born to.”
Vin
shrugged slightly. “He’s jist tryin’ t’ survive the best way he
could,” he murmured. “Reckon I can understand that. Been there a
time or two m’self.”
“But
you’re not there now,” Chris assured him quietly, running a thumb
lightly over the tracker’s lips. “And if I have anything ta say
about it, you never will be again.”
Vin
gazed into the clear, deep green eyes that seemed to see into his
very soul, and a faint smile curved about his lips. “Awful damn
sure of yerself, ain’tcha, cowboy?” he drawled softly.
“When
it comes ta takin’ care of you I am. And I don’t plan to change.”
“Don’t
wantcha to,” Vin sighed, even now marveling at the feelings this
man inspired in him. He’d always prided himself on being able to
take care of himself, on needing no one but himself, on being able
to face whatever came on his own. Since meeting Chris, though, he’d
come to realize what a hard and lonely life that had been, and how
good it felt knowing he had another’s strength to call on when his
own failed. “Kinda like that about ya. Think I could get used to
it.”
“Good,”
Chris said with a slow smile, “’cause I ain’t finished yet. Since
you seem to be done sleepin’, how’s about we get dressed and get
some food in ya? I got venison stew on the stove. I could fix up
some cornbread to go with it, put on a pot of coffee. That sound
good?”
Vin’s
stomach answered for him, rumbling loudly, and he ducked his head
as a hot flush of embarrassment burned his cheeks. But he suddenly
realized that he hadn’t eaten since early morning, and Chris’s words
brought a fierce hunger to immediate life.
Chris
laughed aloud and shook his head, winning a sharp glare from the
tracker. “Lemme guess,” he teased. “You got so caught up in your
hunt that you forgot to eat, right?” Vin’s glare hardened, and he
laughed again. “What am I gonna do with you, Tanner?”
“Likely
irritate me to an early grave,” Vin grumbled. “Now, you jist gonna
sit there an’ mock me, or ya gonna get them vittles goin’ like ya
said?”
“Oh,
I don’t know,” Chris answered thoughtfully, cocking his head slightly
to one side and studying the glowering tracker. “I kinda like mockin’
ya.” He winked. “Yer awful damn purty when yer riled,” he said,
mimicking Tanner’s drawl.
“An’
you make m’ goddamn hair hurt!” Vin growled. “Hell, it ain’t enough
I near froze ta death out there. Now I gotta sit here an’ starve
whilst some uppity goddamn gunfighter gits his jollies from pokin’
fun at me.” He lifted his chin and scowled, his eyes flashing. “I
shoulda gone t’ Nettie’s. She’da done had a plate in my hands by
now!”
“Yeah,
but,” Chris breathed, leaning closer to Vin, “would she have done
this?” And he brushed his lips against the tracker’s in a soft,
slow, achingly tender kiss.
Vin
exhaled unsteadily and leaned helplessly into that kiss, his irritation
fading as if it had never been. “No,” he whispered hoarsely as Chris
pulled away again, “I d– I don’t reckon she would.” He licked his
lips, still tasting Chris there, and sighed mournfully. “Damn, ya
don’t fight fair!”
Chris
grinned wickedly. “Don’t recall ever claimin’ I did. Now,” he rose
gracefully to his feet and held down a hand to Vin, “let’s get you
fed.”
But
Vin only stared up at the man before him, eyes going wide and dark
as he studied the long, lean form limned in firelight. “See a coupla
things I wouldn’t mind nibblin’ on right now,” he rasped.
Chris
laughed and shook his head, wiggling his fingers in invitation.
“Later, when you got some of your strength back. Right now you’d
probably only pass out on me, and that wouldn’t be nearly as much
fun.”
“Hmph,”
Vin snorted, setting his hand in Chris’s and letting the man pull
him to his feet. “Awful damn smug– Oh, shit!” he gasped as he reeled
dizzily.
“Whoa!”
Chris said sharply, quickly wrapping his arms around Vin to steady
him. “You all right?”
Vin
leaned gratefully against Chris for long moments, resting easily
in the man’s strong hold while his world gradually settled. “Yeah,”
he breathed. “Jist got up too fast.” He shook his head slightly
to clear it, then cast a wry smile at Larabee. “Reckon that storm
took more outta me than I thought,” he admitted.
“Nearly
freezin’ ta death’ll do that,” Chris said gruffly, fighting back
the fear that had abruptly resurfaced. Every last vestige of color
had drained from Tanner’s flesh, leaving only the gray tinge of
exhaustion. He was shaking, too, though probably more this time
from weakness than from cold. Chris had fought storms before, knew
exactly how much battling the elements could strip from a body,
and knew that Vin’s whipcord-lean build left him precious few reserves
from which to draw. “Next time,” he said, worry making his voice
harsh, “you pay more attention to what’s happenin’ around you, you
hear?”
Ordinarily
Vin would’ve resented such a tone, such a command, and would’ve
given Larabee an earful in reply. This time, though, he heard the
fear behind the anger and kept a tight rein on his own temper. He
knew Chris had only the deepest respect for his abilities, but also
knew he must’ve come damn close to giving the man heart failure
when he’d ridden up in such a sorry state. And Chris Larabee was
not a man who took well to being scared.
“I’ll
see what I can do,” he finally allowed, knowing he probably wasn’t
any more likely to change his ways than Larabee was.
To
his credit, though, Chris made an effort. “I’m sorry,” he breathed,
gazing into Vin’s eyes and cupping a hand to the tracker’s face.
“I just … Jesus, Vin, you scared the hell outta me!” he admitted
in a rush. “I know you’re no greenhorn, I know there’s no man better
suited to stayin’ alive in this country than you, but I just … I
just can’t help it,” he whispered, tenderly stroking Tanner’s cheek
with trembling fingers. “The thought of losin’ you–”
“Ssh,
hush,” Vin urged softly, laying a hand lightly over Chris’s mouth
to silence him. “Y’ ain’t gonna lose me. Not this time, anyways.”
He smiled slightly, his dark blue gaze slowly tracing the worry-lined
face before him. “I ain’t in no hurry t’ leave ya, cowboy,” he rasped.
“An’ when the time comes that I have to, I reckon even then it’s
likely gonna take heaven an’ hell workin’ t’gether an’ a few sticks
of dynamite besides ta pry me loose from ya. I ain’t goin’ without
the biggest, dirtiest fight this ol’ world’s ever seen.”
“Promise
me?” Chris pleaded, hating that he sounded so desperate but unable
to help it.
Vin
gave his familiar cocky, crooked grin and winked. “I promise. An’
I don’t reckon neither heaven nor hell wants me bad enough t’ go
through what they’d have to t’ get me. So you’re stuck with me fer
a while yet.”
“Well,”
Chris said shakily, grinning at his own foolishness, “I guess I
can live with that.”
“Good,”
Vin said firmly, arching two brows, “’cause I ain’t givin’ you a
choice. Now,” he gave a wicked grin, “let’s see what ya done t’
that buck I killed.”
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