Chris saddled Pony and led him from the livery, as the bright morning sunshine drove away some of the weariness he felt. His face bore the fatigue only a restless night tossing in bed can do. Maguire’s features invaded his nightmares and he was glad the man was leaving town today. He would be only to glad to see the unsettling presence leave the town that had become home. He rode the horse out of town, nodding as he passed Vin Tanner going into the jail.
Chris figured he was riding for an hour when he first noticed he was being followed. He slowed Pony to a walk and gave the person a chance to catch up, swearing as he recognized the rider coming towards him.
“Good morning, Mr. Larabee.”
“What do you want, Maguire,” Larabee snapped, angry that this man was following him.
“I just wanted to apologize once more before I left.”
“You already did that,” he told him, his nerve endings tingling as he gazed into the dead eyes before him.
“I know but I still feel bad. It’s such a hot day and I thought you would accept this as a peace offering,” Maguire smiled as he pulled a bottle from his saddlebag.
Larabee took the expensive bottle, his uneasiness with this man still wreaked havoc on his senses and he angrily tossed the bottle to the ground. “Look, Maguire, I haven’t hidden the fact that I don’t trust you and about the only thing I want from you is to see your back as it rides away from Four Corners,” he spat. He quickly turned away from the man and hurried away.
Maguire watched the retreating figure dressed in black, an evil grin forming on his face. He dismounted and picked up the intact bottle and slid it back into his saddlebag. “Oh, Chris, you are worthy and soon I’ll be able to show you just what you mean to me,” he whispered. His eyes continued to follow his intended victim until he disappeared around the bend. His admiration for the hostile gunslinger could be read openly on his face as he mounted his horse and rode away.
Chris continued patrolling the area north of town for several hours. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary as he finished the final search of the area. His parched throat told him it was time for something with more of a kick than water and he headed back towards town.
Maguire rode north until he spotted the familiar copse of trees. He found this cave some time ago. He was using it as a base when he wasn’t searching for someone to help him fulfill his destiny. As he dismounted in front of the hidden dwelling, he thought of how perfect Larabee would be. He pushed away the rocks and brush he used to cover the entrance and strode purposefully inside. Just inside the door he found a lantern and lit it before going deeper into the cavern.
The tunnel leading to the main chamber had a low ceiling and the salesman was forced to duck in places to keep from hitting his head. He smiled as he entered the thirty by forty foot chamber. The supplies he laid in over the past few months were untouched and he knew things were ready. All he needed was to bring the gunslinger and show him the art of meeting one’s destiny.
Maguire moved to a small trunk and pulled out a small black and white photo. “See, father, I do have what it takes.” He lovingly caressed the picture, his eyes misting with tears. “I warned you not to hurt me, but you wouldn’t listen. Now you’re burning in hell and I’m the one who put you there.” He threw the picture across the room, watching as the paper fluttered slowly to the ground. “I’m so much stronger than you ever were, you bastard,” he swore as he turned and hurried from the chamber.
“Hey, Chris,” Dunne called as Larabee rode back into town.
The gunslinger pulled Pony to a stop in front of the livery and dismounted. “JD,” he greeted. “Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” the youth answered, following Larabee into the livery.
“Where’s everyone?”
“Over at the saloon,” the easterner answered as the older man passed Pony’s reins to Yosemite.
“Sounds like the perfect place to be.” The parched man strode away from the livery and hurried across the street.
He entered the dull interior and quickly found the other five men he called friends. The tracker was seated off to himself with two empty glasses on the table before him. Larabee grinned as Tanner poured a shot of whiskey in each glass.
He slid into the vacant chair and picked up the silent offering. “Thanks,” he sighed gratefully and swallowed the fiery liquid.
“Any problems?” Tanner asked.
“Ran into Maguire.”
Tanner’s eyes shot up imperceptibly. “What did he want?”
“Wanted to apologize and offered me a bottle of expensive whiskey.”
“What’d ya do with it?”
Larabee helped himself to a second shot and slugged it back. “Threw it on the ground and told him to leave,” he finally answered.
Tanner’s head bobbed once in understanding. “Ez and the kid saw him headed south a little ‘fore noon today.” He knew his friend would shake off the feelings of uneasiness now that Maguire was out of the picture.
“Must’ve came back here right after I met up with him.”
“Reckon.”
The two men lapsed into companionable silence. Neither man needed to talk to get their feelings across. They knew the important things could be said with the toss of a head or a simple hand gesture. The conversations in the room carried back to them and they sighed contentedly.
“I’m going to miss the stunning conversations between myself and Mr. Maguire,” Standish observed as he dealt the ever present deck of cards.
“Don’t we give you stunning conversations, Ezra?” Dunne asked.
“I assure you, Mr. Dunne, our conversations are more than stunning,” Standish smiled at the younger man.
“Did you guys buy anything from Maguire?” Jackson asked.
“I bought one of those hair combs for Casey.”
“The silver one?”
“No, Buck, Maguire said it’s called a comb and just sits in her hair.”
“What’s the good in that?” Wilmington asked.
“It’s supposed to look nice,” the sheriff explained.
“Thought you liked Casey as she was?” the ladies man teased.
“Buck, it’s a gift. You know something you give to a lady to show her you appreciate her,” Dunne explained.
The moustached man smiled and arched his eyebrows knowingly. “JD, there are gifts and then there are gifts,” he grinned mischievously.
“Buck, you always say that,” the kid huffed.
“You’ll learn all about the finer art of gift giving as you get older,” Wilmington laughed as the younger man got up to leave. “Go ahead and give her the comb. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it more than the frog digger.”
“You were a bit rough on him, Brother,” Sanchez observed.
“The kid has to learn it ain’t about giving things. At least not those kind of things.”
“Buck, that kid could probably show you a thing or two about gifts for ladies,” Jackson told him.
“Well, I gotta go give Miss Blossom a real gift,” Wilmington laughed and left the others alone in the saloon.
“He’ll never learn,” Larabee muttered, leaning his chair back against the wall, relaxing for the first time since Maguire showed up in town.
“Headin’ out?” Tanner asked a week later. The town was quiet except for a couple of trail hands who now resided in jail until they sobered up.
Larabee turned as the tracker came into the livery. “Yeah, figure I’ll go check on the repairs we made to the barn. See how they held up in the storm yesterday.”
“Ya comin’ back tonight?”
“Probably not. I’ll do a patrol of the area along the way and spend a couple of days at my place. I'll see you in a few days.”
“Alright.” The sharpshooter watched as his friend left town before turning towards the saloon.
Chris dismounted and unsaddled Pony. His patrol of the area was quiet and he relaxed as he released the beautiful animal into the corral. He picked up his saddlebags and headed for the small house he now called home. He opened the door and walked into the dull interior, depositing the saddlebags on the table. He looked at the bottle of whiskey on the mantle and sighed. He picked up the bottle, poured himself a small shot and downed it. Sighing in contentment as he placed the bottle on the table.
The sun was just beginning its downward journey and he moved back outside to check the barn. He examined the repairs, smiling as he noted they held up nicely during the storm. His gaze fell on the borrowed wagon. ‘Guess I’ll return that tomorrow,’ he thought, shaking his head as his vision blurred slightly.
He moved to the small corral and picked up the brush. He used it to give the horse a good rubdown, before making sure the animal had plenty of feed and water. Again he shook his head to ward off the dizziness building there. “What the hell...” he muttered tiredly. He walked out of the corral and made his way towards the house. He barely made it to the front door and grabbed the porch rail as his vision blurred once more. He turned at the sound of footsteps, his hands moving towards his gun as he recognized the shape standing before him. His arms felt leaden as he tried to pull the colt from the holster.
“What the hell did you d...do?” he snarled as he felt himself losing his tenuous hold on consciousness. He fell heavily to the ground, his head impacting with the edge of the railing. He felt a sharp pain on the right side of his head.
Maguire reached for the semi conscious man, an evil grin on his face. He ignored the tiny trickle of blood from the wound as he spoke softly. “I did what I had to do in order to take my destiny.”
“S...son of a B...bitch,” Larabee swore as he tried to fight the oncoming lethargy washing over his body. He felt Maguire remove his colt from his hand and something was wrapped tightly around his wrists. ‘I hate it when I’m right,’ was his last thought as darkness overtook the light of day.
Robert Maguire worked quickly to secure the blond’s wrists. He grinned as he thought of the hours spent watching the tiny clearing, waiting for this man to return. “Can’t have you hurting yourself when I can do a much better job of it,” he grunted as he bound the ankles of the unconscious victim. He hurriedly hitched his horse to the wagon and turned back to the gunslinger, easily lifting him inside. As a precaution he gagged and blindfolded the gunslinger, patting his shoulder gently before speaking. “Destiny is a wonderful thing as you’ll soon find out.”
The salesman jumped down from the wagon and hurried into the cabin to get some supplies. He took blankets, coffee and the bottle of whiskey, realizing he'd need the drug. The blond captive would be rousing before they got to the cave. He hurried back outside and covered Larabee with one of the blankets. Darkness was quickly descending as he rode away from his prisoner’s home. He knew the route by heart and couldn’t take the chance one of Larabee’s men would discover them as he aimed the wagon towards the cavern so far away.
Four Corners was blanketed under a cloak of darkness, except for the fires burning in the street. Six men sat in their usual seats in the saloon as Inez returned with a final round of drinks for them.
“Well, I think it’s time fer me ta turn in. I’ve got early patrol tomorrow.” Vin yawned and stretched his arms.
“Good night, Mr. Tanner,” Standish said.
“Night, Vin,” Wilmington, Dunne, Jackson and Sanchez said at once.
Vin stepped into the street and looked up at the millions of stars shining overhead. He never tired of the beauty nature had to offer and he breathed deeply of the warm night air. A shudder ran down his back as he looked towards the moon and a dark cloud blotted out the circular orb. ‘Damn,’ he thought as he headed for his wagon.
Robert Maguire looked at the man hanging before him. He knew he was on the verge of waking up and that brought a smile to his face as stepped towards his victim. He snagged the blond hair and lifted the head. “It’s time to wake up and meet your destiny, Chris Larabee,” he whispered in the man’s ear.
The gunslinger moaned as the hand gripped his hair and pulled up sharply. He couldn’t remember what happened, but he knew this was going to be bad. He forced his eyes to open and look at the man holding his head.
“Welcome to your destiny, Chris Larabee,” Maguire laughed and released his captive’s head.
Chris kept his eyes open and looked around. His hands were tied with a length of cord and secured to a hook above his head, his ankles were likewise secured to hooks in the ground and his legs were partially spread. His cloths had been removed and an Indian loincloth was around his waist. His body trembled in the cold cave and he searched out his nemesis.
“Do you like our home, Chris?”
“You son of a bitch,” Larabee hissed.
“You will call me worse than that before I take your soul.”
Larabee’s head was ringing and he struggled to grasp the man’s words. “What the hell are you talking about, Maguire?”
“My father taught me that I could break a man and take his strength and his soul as my own if I found the right man. He said it was a man’s destiny. I knew when I saw you that you were the one.”
“The one what?” Larabee tried to stay focused but the lingering effects of the drug made it impossible.
“The one who would make me whole.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked, knowing without a doubt he didn’t really want the answer.
“I’m going to kill you, Chris Larabee, but not before you scream out your pain. As that scream leaves your body so will your strength and your soul. At that point I will truly own them both,” Maguire laughed as he took something from his pocket. The light reflected off the shiny metal and Chris recognized it as a scalpel, one similar to those Nathan Jackson would use. “I will know when the time is right and the scream real,” he said as he touched the blade to Larabee’s thigh. He sliced across the leg with just enough pressure to bring a thin stream of blood to the surface. “We have forever to make you scream, Chris and until you do I will enjoy watching you suffer,” Maguire hissed as he turned away from his victim.
Larabee clenched his teeth as the stinging bite of the scalpel ebbed. He felt the blood flow slowly from the wound and slide in a sticky line down his leg. The wound itself wasn’t deep and he knew it wouldn’t kill him, but the slowly oozing blood could have devastating effects if it didn’t stop.
“Oh, don’t worry, Chris, I have no intention of letting you bleed to death,” Maguire smiled as he poured whiskey onto a strip of cloth and applied it to the wound. “We have only just begun and have so much more to do. My father said I was the devil and he just may have been right.”
“You bastard,” Larabee hissed.
Maguire’s fist shot out and connected with the gunslinger’s right cheek, rocking his head back and bringing a bright red mark to his face. “You will never call me that again!” he snarled as his left fist drove into Larabee’s midsection, driving the air from his lungs.
Larabee clenched his eyes as he desperately tried to draw air back into his starving lungs. He moaned softly as he finally succeeded and wondered how he was ever going to get away from the maniac smiling gleefully at him.
Maguire reached out with his index finger and touched the blood dripping from his victim’s split lip. He grinned evilly as he stuck the finger in his mouth, “So sweet,” he said. “Nectar of the Gods.”
The green eyes glared angrily at the man before him and Maguire knew his instincts were right and he’d found the perfect man. “My search is finally over, Chris. The others were satisfying, but did not make me whole. With your death, I will be complete. I will live forever with the added strength of your dark soul. Sleep well, Chris, for when I return the games will begin anew.”
‘How the hell did I get into this,’ the gunslinger thought as he watched the man leave the cave. He struggled with the cord wrapped around his wrists and realized all he’d managed to do was tighten them. He felt blood running from the abused flesh but continued to work on his bonds. He had no way of knowing how much time elapsed before his arms screamed in protest, the muscles cramping from his efforts to get free. The drug Maguire fed him was still in his system and he felt his fatigued body surrender to the call of sleep. ‘Hell, Vin, I need help,’ he thought as his eyes slid closed.
Tanner sat bolt upright in his wagon, sweat beading on his forehead as the word resounded in his head. He knew it was Chris, knew instinctively something was wrong. The cry for help was something he hadn’t expected, but it was something he wouldn’t deny. He climbed out of the wagon and looked along the darkened street. Dawn was just beginning to brighten the sky as he moved towards the livery. Peso stood in the usual stall and Vin moved to saddle the horse.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Tanner?”
Vin turned to see Ezra Standish leading his horse into the livery. The tracker knew the gambler was just returning from patrol and would soon head for his room to sleep the morning away. “I don’t know, Ez,” he answered.
“Those are ominous words. Are you perhaps sensing danger around our fair town?”
“Danger? Yeah, but it’s not for the town. I think Chris is in trouble.”
“Fire!” the call went up from a small home on the opposite end of town and both men forgot their conversation as one of the most feared words echoed through the town. They reached the burning building within seconds of the panicked cry and joined the bucket brigade.
When the word fire sounded in a town people moved fast. The building surrounding the afflicted one were in as much danger as the burning structure and people moved to save them. Buckets of water passed from one tired set of hands to another as men and women fought the blaze. They brought it under control just after daybreak but not soon enough to save the building. Luckily no one was hurt but a family was now without a home. The Millers were a proud family and lived in Four Corners since the beginning and they vowed to rebuild. A loud cheer rang up from the group at the news the couple and their three children would remain in town.
“Well, it appears even a tragedy such as this doesn’t diminish the Millers’ need to partake of the hardships of western civilization.”
“Whatever you say, Ez,” Tanner smiled tiredly as he followed the other men to the saloon. Inez saw them coming and knew they’d want something to eat. She’d prepared biscuits, bacon, and beans in large quantities, knowing the tired group of firefighters would be hungry.
Chris Larabee lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. He had no idea how long he’d been hanging in the cave but the fire died out hours ago and he’d been left in the damp, cloying darkness. He heard movement to his left and knew instinctively that the madman was back.
Maguire moved towards his victim and reached out to touch the bare skin. He used the scalpel to trail a thin line across the blonde’s chest, smiling at the sharp intake of breath.
“So nice of you to join me, Chris, I do hope you’re enjoying your new accommodations.”
“Go to hell,” Larabee spat.
“Ah, I would love to grant you your wish, Chris, but I’m afraid I’ll be making your life a living hell instead,” Maguire remarked.
Chris heard him move away, but knew he’d be back. He closed his eyes against the bright light as his personal demon started a small blaze going in the cave. The light from the fire reached him but the warmth stayed just beyond his reach as he shivered in his bonds.
“Are you cold, Chris?”
“Not at all,” Larabee answered sarcastically.
“I’m glad to hear that because I won’t be staying in this cave with you. There’s a lovely family just down the road a pace and they’ve kindly offered to let me have one of their beds since they won’t be needing them.”
“What the hell does that mean?” the gunslinger asked, dreading the answer he knew was coming.
“Well, I’m afraid they met with an untimely death. It seems they fell victim to a few misplaced bullets. Oh well, shall we continue with our games?”
“You bastard,” Larabee swore as Maguire showed him the whip he held in his hands.
“I bought this just for you, Chris. You should feel honored that I spent this money on my gift for you. I did not want to use instruments that were sullied by others. You are special, Chris Larabee, and nothing that touched anyone else will touch the skin on your body,” Maguire’s soft lilting voice was the only sound in the cave as he slowly ran the edge of the whip across his victim’s taut muscles. “You will soon understand how much you mean to me. You will soon beg me to take your soul and free you from the chains of life,” he drawled as he pulled the whip back over his right shoulder and let it fly in a tight arch towards the shivering form.
The gunslinger bit his lip as the first lash landed on his bare back. He held his breath waiting for the next to fall and clenched his fists at the agonizing white fire that burned a trail across his back and shoulders. He stopped counting as the sixth blow landed and tried to concentrate on something other than the searing pain Maguire was inflicting on him. “I’ll kill you,” he swore as another blow landed.
“I don’t think so, Chris. Hmm, I think that’s enough for now,” Maguire said as he walked back to the fire.
Chris held his breath, waiting for the agony in his back to dwindle enough for him to take a breath.
“I just have to clean them now, Chris,” Maguire explained as he placed a whiskey covered cloth over the raw wounds.
“Son of a bitch,” Larabee hissed as he sagged against the cord holding his wrists.
“Oh, Chris, this really is only the beginning for both of us,” Maguire gripped the blond hair and pulled the head back. He forced the bottle through the lips and poured the liquid into his victim’s mouth, forcing him to swallow the fiery offering.
The whiskey burned as it flowed down his throat and Chris gagged against the searing fluid. He’d drank rot gut before but this was something worse. He gagged and sputtered as his stomach expelled its contents leaving him weak and disoriented.
“Such a waste. No matter. Why don’t you close your eyes and get some rest. I will return later and we shall play more games.”
Larabee’s mouth, throat and stomach burned and he wondered what Maguire forced on him to make him feel so sick and cause so much pain internally. He sagged against the bonds once more, a silent cry emanating from his tortured throat. “Help,” he rasped weakly.
Mary sat at her desk looking through old files. She’d known the Millers since she’d moved to Four Corners. The couple were already making planes to rebuild their home. She was searching for an old article written the day they arrived. They were one of the original homesteaders. She smiled as she came across the article about Chris Larabee. ‘Bad element,’ she thought. ‘Not so, Mr. Larabee,’ she smiled as she placed the article on top of the ones she’d already searched through, shaking her head when she noticed an article she’d dropped on the floor. She picked up the clipping and placed it on top of the one she’d just looked at.
Mary reached for the next article but something on the paper she’d just picked up caught her attention. The headlines and picture on the clipping caught her eye. She gasped as she realized the man staring up at her from an old newspaper article was none other than Robert Maguire, a little younger but there could be no mistaking who he was. She re-read the headline, knowing this man had wormed his way into their lives. She read the article and rushed out of the newspaper office in search of the peacekeepers. She ran towards Nathan Jackson’s clinic ignoring the strange looks people turned her way. She hurried up the stairs and pushed open the door.
Jackson looked up as the breathless woman entered his clinic. “What’s wrong, Mrs. Travis?”
“N...Nathan, where are the others?” she asked worriedly.
“Buck and JD are at the jail. Josiah is working at the church. Vin’s getting ready to head out. Ezra’s probably sleeping and Chris is at his shack,” Jackson explained.
“I found this,” she passed him the article and watched the shock on his face as he read the terrifying words.
“Come on, Mrs. Travis,” he rushed from the clinic in a hurry to find the others and show them Mary’s discovery. He ran to the jail calling to Buck and JD.
Dunne looked at Wilmington and rushed to open the door. “What’s wrong, Nate?”
“JD, go wake Ezra and meet us at the church,” Jackson ordered.
“Why?”
“Just do it, JD,” Jackson shouted.
“Buck, I gotta go wake Ez. Nathan wants us all at the church.”
“Did he say why?” Wilmington asked as he moved to join the younger man.
“No but him and Mrs Travis were in an awful hurry.”
“Alright, Kid, go get him and meet us there,” Wilmington said as he hurried after the healer and the newspaperwoman.
Ten minutes later six men and one woman huddled in the tiny church as Mary Travis read the article aloud. She skimmed over the first few lines and skipped straight to the part of the article that sent knife like tendrils of fear into her heart. “Robert Maguire is wanted for the torture deaths of four men. The murders took place near his hometown but went undiscovered until a young couple stumbled over the gruesome scene while riding near Simpson’s Crossing. The victims were identified by belongings found nearby. Ronald Parker, Johnny Mercer, Brian Barnes, and Joseph Carter were positively identified by family members and later shipped to their homes for proper burial. The bodies were scored with knife wounds, lash marks and burns, officials state the men suffered over a period of several days. Officials are unsure if Maguire was acquainted with the four men or if they were victims of a random rage. However, they report that the men appeared similar in appearance, all being of the same age, height, build, with blond hair and green eyes. This information was confirmed with the victims’ families, who also knew of no known association between the men or with Maguire. Robert Maguire is considered dangerous and there is a reward for his capture dead or alive,” Mary finished reading and turned to the six men, waiting for a response.
“I think I’ll go check on Chris,” Tanner told them, remembering the strange sensation that woke him earlier in the day. The silent cry for help was forgotten in the heated call of fire.
Mary looked back at the article and a shiver of dread ran through her. “You don’t think Maguire would...” her voice trailed off as she looked at each man.
“I don’t know, Mary, but I aim to find out,” Tanner assured her.
“We aim to find out, Brother,” Sanchez said leading the way out of the church.
Mary watched the six men hurry towards the livery, “Please, God, keep them all safe,” she prayed.
His stomach was finally returning to normal with just a minor twinge of the agonizing fire he’d felt earlier. His arms and shoulders felt leaden as he struggled against the cords holding him tight. He’d tried to pull his ankles from the cords attached to them, but gave up when all it did was cause more agony to his shoulders when he lifted his feet completely off the floor. Time held little meaning for the gunslinger as there was no means to measure it in the dark confines of the cave. No light entered the cavern once the fire went out leaving him no way to tell whether it was night or day. He sagged against his bonds and let his head drop to his chest. ‘I’m not giving up,’ he thought. ‘Just need to rest for a little while.’
He had no idea how long he slept but the sound of footsteps brought him back to the familiar darkness. He knew Maguire was back and he knew he’d need every ounce of strength he could muster to survive whatever this madman had in mind for him. He closed his eyes as a spark of light caught near him, the brightness of the quick flame causing his eyes to blink rapidly.
Maguire built up the fire until it illuminated the cavern. He rubbed his hands over the flame, smiling at the heat he felt there. He stood up and walked the short distance between the fire and his victim. “Hello, Chris, I hope you slept well.”
Larabee refused to answer, his body trembling as the warmth of the fire finally reached him. Revulsion filled his eyes sending a warning that he’d find a way to repay what Maguire was doing to him.
Maguire hid the fear he felt wash over him as the restrained man glared at him. He knew if his victim ever got free he’d pay dearly for the pain he inflicted on him. He turned away from the gunslinger, hoping the blond hadn’t read the fear in his own eyes. “I guess you’re not feeling very talkative this morning, Chris. That’s okay because I’ll do the talking for both of us. I want you to know a little about me.”
“I know all I need to know,” Larabee snarled.
“No, Chris you don’t. I’m sure you remember me telling you you’re not my first victim. You are number five. At least that’s the official count, I learned as I went and the others will never be found. I can also include the bastard who called himself my father. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to him for teaching me the things I could do. The power I could gain by taking a man’s life at just the right moment,” he stalked back to the gunslinger, a look of longing on his face, licking his lips as if tasting the hint of desire, a desire to own this man’s soul. “The power that you hide deep inside you. The power only you know about. You’ve felt it every time you’ve taken a life. Haven’t you, Chris? All those innocent victims dead by your hand.”
“I never killed an innocent man,” Larabee growled.
“How can you be sure? Don’t bother answering that because it really doesn’t matter. You have the strength of each victim inside you and when you die at my hands I will gain not only your strength and soul but theirs as well. My father taught me many things about pain, Chris, and I will teach them all to you before you die.” He reached out and ran his fingers along Larabee’s right cheek, smiling when the blond tried to pull away. “Before you die you will beg my forgiveness and know that I am your master. The owner of your soul. The only man worthy of taking your life.”
“You’re a coward, Maguire,” Larabee sneered as the cold fingers continued to touch him.
“I am not a coward, Chris. If I was I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my destiny. Or should I say our destiny?” He walked back to the fire and picked up the cup he placed near the flames. “I have something for you to drink. It’s just water and a little something to get your imagination working properly. It’s something my father used to use and I know from personal experience that it makes for a wild ride. It’s made from the nightshade plant and has been used in many ways. For our purposes it’ll be used to give you a taste of what losing control is all about. It’ll make you feel really strange, make your heart race faster than that beautiful animal you ride. Hopefully I’m using the right amount this time and you won’t get so sick to your stomach,” he explained.
Larabee swallowed, painfully aware of the last experience he suffered with liquids this man forced down his throat. He clamped his lips tightly as Maguire stood before him.
“That won’t do, Chris,” Maguire told him, Once more reaching for the blond hair and pulling the head back. The corded muscles in the exposed throat sent a ripple of pleasure through the evil man. He recognized the strength in them and knew when death took this man, that strength would be his to harness. “It would be easier if you’d just open your mouth.”
Larabee ignored the calm voice but couldn’t ignore the pain as his hair was pulled back, stopping just short of pulling it from his scalp.
Maguire released the blond hair and grabbed his victim’s nose, squeezing tightly until the gunslinger had no choice but to open his mouth and gulp in the much needed air. As soon as the mouth opened Maguire forced the liquid inside, clamping his hand over the lips in an effort to keep his prisoner from spitting the liquid back out. He repeated the process until the cup was empty and the bound man was coughing and gasping for breath. “It would’ve been so much easier on you if you’d only drank it and sat back to enjoy the experience.”
“G...go to h...hell,” Larabee gasped weakly, his chest heaving as he drew in the much needed oxygen.
“I assure you that is where I will end up someday. I have pledged my soul to the devil and received the strength to do what I need to do. It’s a bargain I will continue to benefit from, Chris, and you are the stepping stone that will help me be strong for my destiny. Rest now because once the drug takes effect there will be little rest for you until it runs its course.”
“Bastard!”
“You’ll call me worse than that before we’re through,” Maguire grinned as he walked back to the fire. “Much worse.”
Chris closed his eyes against the pain and nausea, knowing the drug Maguire forced on him was already starting to affect his vision. He groaned as a throbbing ache built in his head and tried to ignore the voice that continued to tell him of their future together. He lost the fight with the nausea and a thin stream of vomit erupted from his mouth.
“Dammit, I should make you take more of it,” Maguire snapped as he walked backed to his victim. “We’ll wait a little while and see if there was enough left in you to produce the effects I want,” he laughed as the green eyes dulled with pain. “Relax and let the drug work for you, Chris. I can guarantee you won’t be disappointed in its effects. Or Should I say I won’t?”
They rode fast and hard, knowing their leader matched the descriptions of Robert Maguire’s other victims. Each man prayed their friend was safe and they’d find him working on the place they considered his little piece of heaven.
Vin rode slightly ahead of the others, his worry and fear for his friend causing him to keep the pace fast and furious. He followed the trail he’d covered many times before and soon pulled Peso to a halt in the clearing that surrounded the tiny shack. His eyes drifted to the horse standing in the corral. It seemed so natural, yet something felt out of kilter as he dismounted and hurried towards the animal.
“Something’s wrong.” Wilmington hurried towards the corral and stood beside the tracker.
“I’m gonna check the house, Buck.”
Wilmington nodded and tried to ignore the look of guilt in the tracker’s eyes. “Vin, we could be wrong,” he said, not believing his own words but needing to say them anyway.
Tanner nodded as he watched the other four men search the surrounding area for any signs of the gunslinger. He walked to the small house and opened the door. He stepped into the gloomy interior, knowing instinctively that Chris wasn’t there. His eyes swept over the inside, coming to rest on the small bed, the empty table, the cold stove. ‘Dammit, Cowboy, where are you?’ the thought, leaving the house to join the others. He stopped as his eyes fell on a dark stain on the step leading into the house. He reached down and touched it, knowing instinctively it was blood. He called the others over and showed them his discovery.
“Vin, can you see if you can pick up a trail?” Wilmington asked, his eyes drifting to the darkening sky overhead.
Tanner nodded slightly and moved to search the area.
“JD, you ride back to town and tell Mary we didn’t find Chris but we’re going to keep searching for him.”
“Buck I want to...”
“Look, Kid, I know you want to help search but someone’s gotta stay in town in case Chris returns,” Wilmington snapped.
“Easy, Brothers. We don’t need to be at each other’s throats right now. If Brother Chris is in trouble we need to work together to get him out of it. Buck, if JD really wants to go with you I can go back to town and let Mary know what’s happening.”
“Thanks, Josiah,” Dunne said gratefully.
“Alright, Kid, you come with us. Josiah, as soon as we find out anything we’ll try and let you know. Hopefully Vin will find the trail pretty quickly.” The ladies man said, knowing in his heart that Chris Larabee was in danger and he was pretty certain where that danger came from. He looked toward the side of the shack and his eyes met those of the tracker. He knew Vin felt the same way he did. Robert Maguire was a madman who preyed on men fitting Chris’s description. Now Chris was missing and there was blood on the step leading to his home. ‘Stay alive, Pard, we’ll find you,’ he silently vowed.
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