Disclaimer---I don’t own them but I enjoy taking them out and playing for a while.
Comments----Thanks, Antoinette, for Beta reading this story. Would love feedback.
The one-armed figure stood against the wall, watching as the group of men left Julestown. He’d recognized the blond haired gunslinger as soon as he’d seen him in the saloon. ‘I’ll get my chance at ya, Larabee. You’ll regret the day ya took my arm and my brother from me,’ he vowed as he headed for his horse, intent on trailing the group of seven men in hopes his chance would come.
“Well, Stud, are you as glad as I am to get rid of those three?” Wilmington asked as he caught up with the dark clad gunslinger.
“Buck, the next time the judge asks us to escort three adoptive kids to their new parents and I even think about saying yes, shoot me.”
“If’n he don’t I will. Damn, Chris, what made ya agree ta this in the first place?” Vin Tanner asked as he rode up on the opposite side of the blond.
“Chris just wanted to impress Mrs. Travis,” Wilmington grinned at his oldest friend as they continued to ride side by side.
“Buck, keep it up and I’m gonna have to shoot you.”
“Sure, Stud,” Wilmington laughed. “You just remember this trip from hell the next time you want to impress a lady.”
“Mr. Larabee, please don’t even think about turning us into babysitters again. Even if it is for a good cause.”
“Mrs. Travis is a lovely cause, Brother,” Sanchez said with a grin.
“You guys are not gonna let this go, are you?”
“No way, Cowboy, ya owe us big time and we’ll let ya know when it’s time ta pay yer debt,” the tracker laughed.
“You guys are just full of it today,” Larabee said as he moved Pony ahead of the others.
“Full of what, Chris?” Dunne called after him.
Larabee didn’t turn around as he answered, “Full of... Lets just say bull,” he called back. He felt content to be among the men he called friends. Somehow he’d ended up in the role of leader and he had to admit he enjoyed leading the group now widely known as the Magnificent Seven.
“What’s the hurry, Chris?” Jackson called.
“He probably doesn’t want ta admit he owes us. How’re yer shins Buck?”
Wilmington rubbed his shin as they followed the blond gunslinger along the trail. “Covered in bruises. That little ankle biter knew just where to kick.”
“Ankle biter, Mr. Wilmington?”
“Well that little fella did bite JD’s ankle didn’t he?” the tracker grinned as he spoke loud enough for Larabee to hear.
“Yeah, that’s right. My damn ankle will never forget the feel of his teeth,” Dunne raised his voice as well.
Larabee knew they were talking loudly on purpose, ensuring that he would hear their banter. He turned in his saddle, relaxed his grip on the reins and was about to answer when he heard an alarming sound directly in front of him. The sound of a rattler was unmistakable and Pony reacted instinctively. He rose up on his hind legs pawing at the air and stomping on the raised head of the snake.
Chris, who’d been relaxing and enjoying the ride and the easy banter, was unable to hold the reins and tumbled backwards off the horse.
“Chris!” Dunne shouted as he watched the gunslinger fly backwards and land heavily against the hard packed trail. Six men rushed to help the fallen man.
Chris landed on his back, the air escaping from his lungs in a loud whooshing sound, his head impacting the ground with enough force to make him pass out.
Nathan Jackson grabbed his saddlebags and hurried to the fallen man just as he groaned and tried to sit up. “Lay still, Chris,” he ordered and he felt along the gunslinger’s neck and back.
“What the hell happened, Stud?”
“Not now, Buck,” Jackson told him.
“Looks like Pony was startled by a rattler,” the tracker explained as he returned with Pony in tow.
“How do you know?” Dunne asked.
“Pony stomped it,” Tanner said as he knelt beside the blond gunslinger. “How’re ya doin’, Cowboy?”
“Fine,” Larabee grated out. “Let me up, Nate.”
“I’ll let you up when I’m finished,” Jackson told him as he removed his hand from the back of the blond’s head. “Vin, Buck, lift him forward till I see how much damage he’s done to himself.”
“Come on, Cowboy, Let’s sit ya up,” Tanner offered with a grin, relieved that the man didn’t seem to be hurt to badly.
“Thanks,” Larabee mumbled as he sat forward, leaning heavily on the tracker and the ladies man as his head began to spin. “Oh, shit,” he said as he leaned away from the two men and lost what was left in his stomach.
“Hell, Chris, ya coulda warned me so’s I could move away.”
“Thanks, Tanner, you’re all heart,” Larabee groaned as Jackson touched a sore spot on his head.
“Chris, this is gonna need some stitches,” the healer told him.
“Damn, Nathan, it’s not that bad.”
“Yes it is, Chris, ya musta hit your head on something cause you got a nice little gash just above the hairline. Don’t worry; no one will be able to see it once it’s healed. Now just be still while I get it done.”
“Wait a minute, Nathan. If you’re gonna be messing with my head then I want something to ease this damned headache. Vin, hand me my flask.”
Jackson nodded and waited for the gunslinger to take a deep swallow. “Ready, Chris?”
“No, but that never stopped you before,” Larabee groaned, realizing too late how his words sounded. “Ah, hell, Nate, I didn’t mean that.”
“It’s alright, Chris,” the healer assured his friend. “Now just be still till I get it done.”
Larabee gripped the edge of his duster as Jackson began the tedious job of putting in a neat row of stitches. He gritted his teeth and reached for his discarded flask.
“Chris, don’t move.” Jackson ordered.
“Just need a drink, Nate.”
“In a minute. I just have a couple of more to put in.”
Wilmington lifted the flask and placed it n front of the gunslingers mouth. Smiling as his friend swallowed the alcohol.
“All done,” the healer announced.
“Thank, God,” Larabee groaned. “Let’s get moving.”
“Chris, I think we should stay here for a while and let you rest.”
“I’m fine, Nathan,” Larabee muttered as Tanner and Wilmington helped him to his feet. He promptly turned away and once more emptied his stomach.
“You’re not fine, Chris, you’ve got a concussion and from the looks of it it’s not a mild one,” Jackson warned him.
“Nathan, look at the sky,” Tanner suggested and all eyes turned to the sky and the incoming dark clouds. “We’d better find shelter before this starts.”
“Chris, you’re not going to be very comfortable sitting on a horse,” Jackson told him.
“I’d rather be on a horse than sitting here getting soaked, Nathan.”
“Alright, but you ride with someone.”
“No. Nathan, it was just a little knock on the head.”
“Yeah and we all know that’s the one place where we can hit you and not cause much damage,” Wilmington laughed.
Larabee reached for the gun on his hip, “Shut up, Buck, or I swear I’ll shoot ya. Damn!” he swore as his long legs folded and he slumped to the ground.
“That’s it. Vin, find somewhere for us to hole up. He ain’t in no shape to ride far,” Jackson ordered as he knelt beside the injured gunslinger.
“Nathan, I can hold him in front of me,” Sanchez assured the healer.
“Seems to me there’s an abandoned town about two miles west of here,” Tanner said as he climbed on Peso.
“You talkin’ bout Carson’s Bluff?” Wilmington asked.
“Reckon that’s the place,” Tanner answered. “It’s a mite rundown but it’ll be a lot better’n stayin’ out in this,” Tanner explained as the first drops of rain fell on the hard-packed ground. “Think we’d better move out fore this storm hits.”
“Alright, Brother, pass em up,” Sanchez told Wilmington.
As the ladies man and the healer lifted Larabee to a standing position his eyes flickered and finally opened. “What the hell are ya doing?” he asked indignantly.
“Ya just passed out, Stud, so we’re just gonna give ya to Josiah for safekeeping.”
Larabee growled as his head pounded and his eyes blurred once more. “I can ride. Just get me on Pony.”
“Chris!”
“Nathan, I’m fine,” Larabee pulled away and stumbled towards his gelding.
“You’re a damned fool, Chris,” Jackson shouted, not surprised when the blond held his hands to his ears.
“You don’t have to shout, Nate,” Larabee told him as he lifted his foot and placed it in the stirrup.
“Chris?”
“Vin, I’m ok. Let’s go before the damned rain gets any heavier,” he muttered, turning Pony towards Four Corners.
“Vin, get after him.”
The tracker nodded to the healer and hurried after the disappearing figure in black. He caught up with him a few minutes later as Pony slowed and finally came to a stop. He watched his friend fight to stay in the saddle. “Ya ready ta admit ya need some help, ya stubborn jackass?”
“Don’t n...need any h...help. Just n...need to go a little slower,” Larabee gasped as brightly colored lights danced before his eyes. A soft groan escaped his lips as he continued forward.
“Chris!” Tanner exclaimed as he reached out to grab the falling man, Pony and Peso came to a full stop in the middle of the trail.
“T...thanks,” Larabee’s voice was edged with pain as the two horses stood side by side. “Just got a little dizzy.”
“More’n a little dizzy, Cowboy,” Tanner observed, keeping a steadying hand on the barely conscious gunslinger.
“What’s wrong,” Jackson asked as he caught up with the two men.
“Nothin’s wrong,” Larabee hissed as he tried to focus on the trail before him. His eyes refused to send clear signals to his brain and he swayed in the saddle.
“That does it, Chris, You’re ridin’ with Josiah,” Jackson’s voice told the gunslinger he wasn’t in the mood for arguing.
Chris felt someone climb up behind him as he let his eyes slide shut.
“Don’t worry, Brother, I got you.”
“J...Josiah,” Larabee groaned, fighting the call of darkness.
“Yeah, brother, now you just relax and we’ll be in Carson’s Bluff in no time.”
“Hmm,” Larabee muttered as he rested his head on the big man’s chest, hissing as the stitched wound made contact. He turned his head to the side and kept his eyes closed as the skies opened up and the rain that had held itself in check erupted in a downpour that saturated the seven peacekeepers before they’d gone twenty feet.
The torrential downpour continued as the seven made the final leg into Carson’s Bluff. The eight dilapidated buildings that made up the town were eerily ominous as lightening slashed across the midnight black sky. The horses balked at the idea of going into the town but with some encouragement from their riders they finally rode past the first of the ramshackle dwellings.
Chris felt Pony tense under his weight and forced his eyes to open. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat and he tried to see through the blinding sheets. A bright light to his left caught his attention.
A young woman stood before him, surrounded by a seemingly impossible light that did nothing to alleviate the darkness around her. Her rust colored hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, revealing an almost translucent white face. Her lips stood out sharply against her skin, a smile showing a mouth full of stark white even teeth. A yellow dress adorned her supple body, clinging tightly to her breasts. Her arms hung loosely by her sides until her eyes met his. Slowly she lifted them towards him, reaching out as she glided across the open expanse of street.
Larabee watched her gliding towards him, wondering how she was moving without touching the ground. His eyes continued to hold hers and finally his foggy mind registered what he’d been refusing to see. There seemed to be a third eye in the center of her forehead but he knew that couldn’t be right. Lightening flashed again and he gasped as it illuminated the blood and gore that seeped from the wound.
She continued to advance towards him as Josiah pulled Pony to a stop.
Chris stared into her dead eyes and watched her lips move without speaking. He knew instinctively what she was asking, but he couldn’t help cringing as her cold lifeless hands reached up and touched his cheek. He shivered uncontrollably as her long fingernails stroked painfully down his left cheek.
“Easy, Brother, we’ll get you inside and warmed up in no time,” Sanchez told him.
The blond tried to pull away from the apparition before him, nearly slipping from the ex-preacher’s arms in the process.
“D...don’t you s...see her, J...Josiah?” Larabee gasped as the woman continued her ministrations. Once more her mouth opened and this time the words were inside his mind.
‘Chris, he’ll call you out and kill you. Help me. Help us,’ the words faded as her body lost its solidity and she winked out before his eyes.
“Help you. Have to help you,” Larabee groaned as Sanchez lowered him into the waiting arms of the ladies man.
“You don’t need to help us, Stud, we’re the ones who’ll be helping you.”
“Don’t want to stay here,” Larabee hissed as Wilmington and Tanner gripped his arms, pulled them over their shoulders and half carried him inside the very building the woman stood before as they’d rode up.
“Not much choice, Cowboy. This ones gonna be one hell of a blow.”
“I’ll check the livery and see if it’s safe to put the horses inside,” Sanchez told them. “Ezra, menial labor or no you’d better give me a hand.”
“Mr. Sanchez, I shall endeavor to aid in your adventure in this godforsaken town,” Standish shouted as thunder rattled the small cluster of buildings.
JD and Nathan watched them move off before hurrying inside the building with the Carson’s Bluff sign dangling above the door. The sound it made as it swung back and fourth in the blustering wind sent icy shivers down their spines.
Nathan hurried to the area where Buck and Vin stood holding the trembling blond between them. He reached out to touch Larabee’s forehead, gasping at the ice-cold feel of his skin. “JD see if you can start a fire. Buck, Vin, hold him for a second till I find something to place him on,” Jackson said, his eyes immediately drawn to the heavy crimson drapes covering the windows. He shook them fiercely, choking as years of dust billowed from the heavy material. With one fluid motion he pulled the drapes down and spread them on the floor, signalling for Buck and Vin to place the injured man on them.
Larabee sank gratefully to the floor, trying to control the icy tendrils of fear as they continued to seek out and destroy his inner warmth. ‘Something’s not right,’ he thought as he lost consciousness.
An hour later Larabee was stripped out of his wet clothes and wrapped in blankets found in the abandoned rooms upstairs. The remaining six men were dressed in the spare clothes they’d carried in their saddlebags. The aroma of stew coupled with fresh coffee permeated the air, lending an almost homey atmosphere to the dust-covered saloon.
JD shivered as he looked around the shadowy interior, watching as strange creatures danced across the walls and ceiling in the flickering light from the fire and candles. “Do you guys know what the date is?”
“It’s October thirtieth, JD. Why?” Wilmington asked as he poured a cup of coffee from the heated pot over the fire.
“Just wonderin’.”
“Sure you were. Bet you’re thinkin’ about tomorrow night,” Wilmington grinned. “Are you afraid of bein’ in Carson’s Bluff on Halloween night, Kid.”
“Shut up, Buck,” Dunne told him, his voice not as steady as it normally was.
“Sure kid. By the way I forgot to say...Boo!” Wilmington laughed as the youngest member of the seven jumped.
“Very funny, Buck!” Dunne’s voice was laced with anger as he made his own imitation of the Larabee glare he’d been studying.
“Ok, you two. Knock it off ‘fore ya wake Chris,” Jackson warned.
“Too late,” the blond grumbled as he forced his eyes open.
“Hey, Cowboy, how’re ya feelin’?” Tanner asked from beside him.
“C...cold,” the gunslinger answered.
Jackson touched the blond’s forehead, a frown creasing his dark face as he felt the coldness there. “Chris, how’s your head feel?”
“Worst h...headache I e...ever h...had,” he stammered.
“I’m gonna steep ya some tea.”
“Damn, Nathan, he just said he’s got a headache and yer plannin’ on givin’ him a matching stomach ache,” Tanner said, half serious.
“Shut up, Vin, or I’ll feed you some as well. Maybe I should feed all a some. Ya’all did get wet out there and this tea just might prevent ya from gettin’ sick.”
“Mr. Jackson, you do realize that you’re threatening our well being?”
“Not threatening anything, Ez. Just statin’ fact,” Jackson said as he poured hot water from a second pot, steeping the willow bark tea and returning to the gunslinger’s side. “Chris, gonna sit you forward a little so you an drink this.”
“I can s...sit up,” Larabee told him.
“Lean em back against the wall, Vin,” Jackson ordered as he placed the cup back on the floor. The two men carefully lifted the blond and pulled him back towards the wall, covering him in the warm blankets once more as his body continued to tremble.
Chris fought the descending darkness, his eyes clenched tightly as the two men helped him to a sitting position. “T...thanks,” he gasped as he caught his breath.
Jackson helped him drink the fairly hot tea, watching the injured man closely. The continuing coldness of the gunslinger’s body worried the healer. Somehow he felt it had nothing to do with the journey in the rain or the head injury. Something was sapping the heat from Larabee and Nathan had no idea how to stop the heat loss.
Chris felt his eyes closing as he finished the last of the tea. His head pounded and he felt colder than he’d ever felt before. He shivered and opened his eyes once more as Buck Wilmington switched places with Nathan Jackson.
“Hey, Stud, JD’s afraid of ghosts.”
Larabee felt the pull of his sleep weary body as he mumbled. “JD’s n...not the o...only one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the ladies man asked.
“You’ll have to wait till later for the answer to that one Buck, he’s asleep,” Tanner told him.
“Alright, you two help me get him back down on the floor. Don’t want him gettin’ a crick in the neck from sleepin’ sittin’ up,” Jackson said as the three men lowered the gunslinger to the floor.
Six men watched their sleeping leader, knowing he’d been injured before and far worse than he was right now. Five of the six wondered why the healer looked so worried each time he reached out to touch the blond’s forehead.
The gunslinger watched as the seven men rode into his town. His dark clothing was immaculate but gave off a musty smell. The gun on his right hip was tied low, his hand always hovered just inches from the grip. His dark black eyes never wavered from the horse carrying two men. The one he’d been waiting for was slumped forward in the saddle. He knew this was the young man who would give him his chance at revenge. Years of hate and anger led the gunslinger to this point. He would use the dark clad gunslinger to exact his revenge on an old enemy.
He’d smiled as Miss Ellie walked up to the horse, reaching out her hand to stroke the man’s face. Miss Ellie was a pretty lady even with what appeared to be a third eye in the middle of her forehead. He still spent countless hours sitting in the saloon with her. He was bound to this town, to this plain of existence until he found a way to end his earthly ties. Miss Ellie was stuck here because of him and he’d promised her it would all be over by midnight on the thirty first. All Hallows eve or as the kids deemed it Halloween. The perfect night for ghosts, haunts, and revenge. His time was coming and the newcomers, especially the blond haired gunslinger, would play an integral part in it.
He stood in the cold rain, watching the interior of the saloon. The blond hair and pale face were clearly visible against the crimson colored drape. He could feel the presence of another specter and knew the time would soon be at hand. His revenge against the man who’d killed him was the only thing that would release him and the others from Carson’s Bluff. All he had to do was save the life of the blond gunslinger and his own sins would be forgiven. To fail meant he would forever be stranded in the borders of this town and Chris Larabee would be relegated to join him.
A sly smile covered the second spectral male resident of Carson’s Bluff. The years had been good to him after he’d taken care of his enemy, but now it was time to face him again. His son was close by; he could feel the evil emanating from him and smiled proudly. His son would take care of the blond gunslinger while he would take care of his old enemy once more. ‘Chris Larabee, I’m calling you out,’ he thought.
Larabee strained to hear the voice but it sounded as if it was coming through thick layers of fog. The inky darkness surrounded him as he struggled to open his eyes. A chill ran down his spine as he finally forced them open. He slowly gazed around the interior, wondering where he was and why his head hurt so much. He struggled to sit up and felt someone reach out and touch him. His eyes met those of the tracker and he smiled weakly. “Musta drank too much,” Larabee groaned.
“I spect that’s what it feels like,” Tanner laughed.
“Help me up,” Larabee groaned.
“Ya sure yer up ta it?” Tanner asked, frowning when he felt the unnatural coldness emanating from the pale blond.
“Ask me again in a minute,” Larabee told him as Tanner lifted him up and helped him shift back to lean against the wall. “Think I’ll give up drinkin’,” he gasped as he looked around the candle lit room. JD, Jackson, and Sanchez were sleeping on the opposite wall. Standish was sitting next to a crate, flipping cards as if bored.
Chris’s eyes fell on Wilmington and he smiled. “I see Buck’s found himself a new girlfriend. She’s probably the only female for fifty miles and yet Buck’s animal magnetism attracted her already.”
Tanner gazed into the face of his friend before he turned towards the ladies man. There was no one near Wilmington and he wondered just how badly the blow to the head was affecting Larabee. “What are you talking about, Chris?”
The blond smiled at him before turning back towards the ladies man and the woman stroking his jaw. He couldn’t see her face but he could tell she was enjoying what she was doing. Her dark mousy brown hair hung to her shapely waist, her long legs were covered in black silk stockings and he gasped as his eyes lit on her feet. They hovered approximately six inches above the ground.
“Chris,” Tanner tried to get Larabee’s attention.
Chris couldn’t breath. He felt his throat close over as the woman slowly turned towards him. Her face was sensuous and covered in heavy make-up. Her lips were painted in ruby red, her dark lashes standing out starkly against the to white skin of her face. A long thin line ran along her neck giving the impression of a crimson choker. She ran her fingers through Wilmington’s hair once more before standing and gliding across the floor towards him.
“N...no,” he stammered, trembling as she covered the distance effortlessly. “Dead! You’re dead!”
“Chris, what are you talking about? I’m not dead,” Tanner told him.
Larabee’s eyes didn’t leave the macabre sight standing before him. She opened her mouth to speak and he tried to drown out the words.
‘He will call you out, Chris Larabee, and when he does you must not let anyone interfere. You must face him on your own or all will be lost,’ she intoned as she faded before his eyes.
“Chris?”
Larabee stared straight ahead until the last fleeting image of the specter disappeared.
“Chris, come on, Cowboy, breath,” Tanner ordered.
“Chris, look at me!”
Larabee blinked and breathed deeply, gasping at the light-headed feeling it produced. His dull green eyes met those of the healer and he wondered at the fear he saw there.
“That’s it, just breath slowly,” Jackson ordered.
“What happened to him, Nate?” Wilmington asked.
“Don’t know, Buck. Seems to be doing fine now though. Chris, how’re you feeling?”
“Feel so damn cold,” he shivered as he pulled the blankets up over himself as his body slumped forward. Jackson, Tanner, and Wilmington once more placed him flat on the floor.
Josiah Sanchez stood listening to the quiet conversation between the men seated next to the once again unconscious gunslinger. The storm still raged outside but it was nothing compared to the storm he felt was brewing inside the gunslinger. The blow to the head had done something to open Chris’s senses and the ex-preacher knew Larabee was seeing and hearing things the rest of them could not. His own beliefs and strong emotional ties made him sense things as well. He knew all was not right in this town but he couldn’t quite put his hands on what it was. Somehow he knew that Chris Larabee had just become a pawn in a macabre fight that transcended the normal plains of existence. It was a fight he couldn’t afford to lose.
“Are you alright, Mr. Sanchez?”
The ex-preacher shook his head and looked at the gambler. “I’m fine, Ez,” he lied.
“Vin, you wanna tell me what happened?”
“I honestly don’t know, Nate. Chris woke up and I helped him sit up.”
“Was he having trouble breathing then?”
“No, Nate, he was looking at Buck and smiling. Then...” Tanner’s voice trailed off.
“What, Vin?”
“He said something about Buck’s attracting the only woman for fifty miles.”
“What?” Wilmington’s shocked voice asked.
“He was staring at you and smiling. I swear he was seeing something I couldn’t.”
“So when did he start having trouble breathing?” Jackson asked.
“Right after he told me about seeing the woman with Buck.”
“That blow he took to the head must’ve rattled him more’n I thought,” Jackson muttered.
“Nate, why does he feel so cold?” Dunne asked.
“I don’t know, JD,” Jackson shook his head as his hand reached out and touched the cold forehead. “I just don’t know.”
‘Maybe I do,’ Sanchez thought as he glanced towards the absolute darkness outside the window.
The one armed man left his horse just outside of Carson’s Bluff. He didn’t want to be seen until the time was right to take Larabee down. He shivered as he crossed the threshold into the town, his eyes shifting nervously around. ‘Stop acting like a durn scaredy cat,’ he thought. He waited for the chills running down his spine to stop before continuing into town. The howling wind swept through the motley group of buildings picking up anything that wasn’t nailed down. He fought his way towards the lighted windows and skulked past them, chancing a quick glance inside. His eyes caught the figure surrounded by the six men. ‘Enjoy them, Larabee, you won’t be seeing them much longer.’
His eyes roamed around the darkened street searching for a place to hole up until it was time to make an appearance. He settled on the last building at the end of the street. It would provide him with the perfect view of the town. He ran towards it shivering at a particularly cold spot in the center of the street. He shoved at the slanted door and hurried inside. ‘Soon, Larabee, very soon.’
The darkly clad gunslinger felt the man run through him. The time was nearly at hand. Soon he would have his revenge and he would take his leave of his namesake. His eyes followed the newcomer as he disappeared inside the dilapidated building. A smile covered the gunslinger’s face at the thought of his final revenge.
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