THREE WEEKS LATER:Buck sat at a table outside the saloon, enjoying a quiet morning and a friendly game of poker with Chris and Ezra. The gambler still had his left arm in a sling of black silk, though Buck suspected he affected it more for appearance than from any real need.
And Lord knew how many cards he had hidden in it...
He tossed two of his cards down and accepted two more from Ezra, listening to the sound of hammering from the roof of the hardware store across the street. "Nice ta have things back ta normal," he said, leaning back in his chair with a contented air. "I hate ta say it, but things was awful quiet with them two laid up. Well, mostly quiet," he amended at Chris's sharply arched brows. "'Cept mebbe for that ropin' lesson Vin was given JD from the window'a Nathan's clinic." His blue eyes gleamed, and a broad, gleeful smile stretched across his face. "Still, the look on the Judge's face when that lariat came snakin' down over his horse's head was a sight ta see!"
Chris chuckled at the memory. "Ain't ever seen JD get quite that pale before. And I thought Vin was gonna fall outta that damn window laughin'. Gonna have ta have another talk with him about proper behavior, I guess." A sudden thought struck him and he looked sharply at Buck. "Speakin' of talks, did you--"
"Don't worry," Buck assured him, "got it taken care of. Me and Vin had a real long talk -- or as long a talk as you can have with him -- and I finally got him ta see reason." He sighed and shook his head slowly. "I tell ya, though, once he's got somethin' set in his mind, it damn near takes an act of God ta get him ta let go. I bet I talked more'n two hours just tryin' ta get him ta understand what happened wasn't his fault."
"As did I," Ezra sighed. "I tendered countless assurances to Mr. Tanner that I in no way held him responsible for my injuries, that I understand he cannot be everywhere at once, but I am still not entirely certain he is convinced." A slight smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "Truly, a conscience is an insupportable burden, and Mr. Tanner's suffering only reaffirms my wisdom in never having taken that particular weight upon myself."
Chris said nothing, merely cast a smirk at the gambler. He knew as well as anyone that Standish had a conscience, and that, much to his own horror, the man was growing increasingly subject to its direction. Chris could well imagine how disturbing it must be for Ezra to realize he was nowhere near the heartless, amoral bastard he had worked so long and hard to be.
"Well," Buck stretched his long, powerful frame out in the chair, crossed his legs at the ankles, and regarded his friends with lively blue eyes, "Vin's back, he and JD are recoverin' nicely, and the Judge didn't hang 'em for horse thieves. I'd say all's about as right with our world as it's likely ta get. Or will be, soon's Standish here pays his debt." He winked and grinned at the gambler. "Hope ya got that money ready, Ezra," he said jovially. "Them two been up on that roof a whole hour now, and ain't nobody but us noticed."
Ezra studied his cards with complete but well-hidden satisfaction, then glanced up the street and allowed the smallest of smiles to break through his poker face. "Don't count your winnings just yet, Buck," he advised, his green eyes taking on a triumphant gleam. "I believe my ace in the hole has finally revealed itself."
Buck turned to follow Ezra's gaze, and scowled. "Aw, hell!" he groaned in defeat.
Chris chuckled quietly. "You didn't really expect him not to notice, did ya, Buck? They're hammerin' fit ta raise the dead, JD's hit his thumb twice and near knocked Vin off the roof once." His smile broadened at the memory of the filthy stream of curses that had erupted from the usually laconic tracker as he'd fought to keep himself from tumbling head first into the street. "He was bound ta hear."
"He" was Nathan Jackson, and he was storming down the street in an obvious rage, his blazing gaze fixed to the hardware store roof. Seeing the two youngest of the seven -- the two who until very recently had been his patients -- perched up there and hammering down shingles brought his fury to a fever pitch.
"Vin! JD!" he shouted harshly, stopping out in the street and staring up, his eyes ablaze, his powerful hands clenched into big fists and set menacingly on his hips. "Y'all done los' ya' minds? What th' hell're y'all doin' up there, anyhow?"
Ezra gasped in shock and fell back in his chair, clasping a hand to his heart. "Do my ears deceive me?" he asked in mock horror. "Is our virtuous Mr. Jackson swearing in public? Good Lord, I am aghast!"
"Be quiet, Ezra," Chris ordered softly, grinning thinly. "I wanta hear this."
Vin leaned over the roof and frowned down at Nathan. "What's it look like we're doin', Doc?" he asked, puzzled by the healer's anger. "Some'a these shingles got shot up purty bad in that last gunfight. Seein's it's mostly our fault, I told Virgil we'd fix 'em. So me an' JD's fixin' 'em."
Nathan clenched his jaws and scowled furiously up at the tracker. "Y'all ain't got no business up on that roof!" he yelled. "Y'all still ain't healed up enough..." A sudden thought struck him, raising his ire another notch. "How'n th' hell y'all git up there, anyway? Ain't no stairs--"
"Don't need stairs," Vin answered calmly, pushing his hat back on his head. "See, in back, they's a drain pipe, 'n a window sill, 'n a couple boxes that, if'n ya stack 'em right--"
"STOP!" Nathan thundered, raising both hands. "Jus' stop right there! I don't wanta hear no more! You two damn fools is gon' kill yaselves, gon' fall offa that damn roof 'n bust ya heads wide open! 'N when ya do, I ain't patchin' ya back up! Now, y'all git down here this minute!"
Vin blinked, frowned, then scratched his jaw. "Cain't do that jus' yet," he drawled, utterly unmoved by Nathan's rising temper. "Still got some shingles ta fix." He nodded firmly. "Told Virgil I'd do it. Cain't go back on my word."
"Yer word?" Nathan spluttered. "Goddamn it, Vin Tanner, when I git my hands on you--"
"Y'oughtn't cuss in the street, Nathan," Vin said disapprovingly. "It ain't fittin'. Been my experience that folks gits real put out 'bout that kinda thing."
Nathan was almost choking on his anger, could no longer force words through his throat. Put out? He was about ready to strangle a goddamn fool tracker and a goddamn fool sheriff, and Vin was worried about folks getting "put out" about some cussing in the street?
"DOWN... NOW!" he bellowed fiercely.
Chris sighed, tossed his cards face down onto the table, and rose to his feet. "Shit," he sighed, shaking his head ruefully. "That man could drive a Quaker ta murder."
Buck frowned in confusion. "Nathan?"
Chris shot a glare at Wilmington. "Tanner!" he growled. "Now I gotta go get his sorry ass off that roof before Nathan kills him. And you'd best come get JD, before he falls and breaks his damn neck!"
Buck shook his head slowly. "Damn," he muttered, "I knew this quiet wouldn't last." He dug in his pocket, pulled out two dollars and tossed them to Ezra. "There ya go. But I still think you told Nathan they were up there."
Ezra pocketed the money with a grin that showed his gold tooth. "Buck, Buck, Buck, when will you learn? When it comes to guarding his charges, Nathan has the protective instincts of a mother grizzly bear. At the first yelp from JD, he would've been scouring the streets, searching frantically for the wounded cub." He winked. "And said cub's notoriously exasperating playmate." His delighted grin widened. "No, no, I assure you, this most entertainin' diversion was inevitable. It needed no manipulation by myself at all!"
Buck rose to his feet, shoved his hands into his front pockets and joined Chris in crossing the street, still scowling. "Jesus, it's hell raisin' kids!" he grumbled. "Why the hell can't they behave?"
Chris stared at him in disbelief. "Because they're Vin and JD!"
"Oh, yeah," Buck answered, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Sorry. Forgot who we were talkin' about for a minute."
They stopped beside Nathan, and Chris stared up at Vin, who threw him a familiar, lopsided grin.
"Hey, cowboy," the tracker greeted amiably. "What'sa matter? Ain'tcha ever seen a feller work b'fore?" He turned the grin on Buck. "Don't worry 'bout JD. He's still got eight fingers he ain't smashed yet."
JD's head popped over the edge next to Vin's. "Hey, that's not fair!" he protested, glaring at Vin. "Wasn't my fault I hit my thumb. If that nail hadn'ta moved--"
"If'n ya's holdin' it like I showed ya, it wouldn'ta moved," Tanner drawled, fixing mild blue eyes on the sheriff.
JD scowled. "Well, if you hadn'ta been hoggin' all the long nails and leavin' me with the short ones--"
"Damn it, JD, I done told ya--"
"BOYS!" Chris snapped, ending the argument abruptly. Green eyes glittered as he glared up at them, and a vein in his forehead began throbbing visibly. "You've had your fun. Now, get down, before you undo all the hard work Nathan put inta patchin' ya back together."
Vin's eyes hardened and his jaw set firmly as he returned Larabee's glare. "I ain't finished," he declared stubbornly. "I done told Virgil I'd fix his roof, 'n I'm gonna do it. Ain't nothin' wrong with me--"
"That ain't the way I see it," Chris growled. "You're still gettin' headaches and them damn dizzy spells. What if you get one while you're up there and fall off?" He knew even as he said the words they wouldn't budge Tanner, so added shrewdly, "What if you get one and knock JD off the roof?"
"Good shootin', pard!" Buck congratulated in a whisper, seeing the words strike home in the sudden widening of Vin's eyes.
But JD jumped immediately to Vin's defense. "He's not gonna knock me off! I've been watchin' him, makin' sure he's all right--"
"And you," Buck hollered sternly, fixing the boy with a blue-eyed glare, "what if Vin was ta get dizzy and fall? How're you gonna stop him, when y'ain't got yer strength back? He'd be lookin' ta you fer help, but you wouldn't be able to, would ya?"
"Bull's eye," Chris muttered as JD's expression crumbled. "You're gettin' good at this, Buck."
"Boy's heart's a big target," Wilmington answered easily, still maintaining his glare. "Just like Vin's."
"Y'all git down!" Nathan demanded, able to imagine a thousand ways these particular two could hurt or kill themselves. "'N I don' wanta see no mo' foolishness from either'a ya."
"Right," Buck retorted with a grin. "And pigs will grow feathers and fly."
"Down, Tanner!" Chris ordered. "NOW!"
Vin narrowed his eyes and scowled. "I ain't yer goddamn dawg, Larabee!" he rasped. "'N I won't be treated as such!"
He saw the green eyes harden, the mouth tighten, the lean body tense, and knew Chris was about thirty seconds from coming up after him. "Aw, hell!" he spat, rising to his feet. "Come on, JD," he said. "Best git this stuff picked up 'n ourselves down there 'fore they start shootin'." He turned and threw one last glare at Larabee. "Man cain't even keep his word t'a friend without some goddamn gunslinger stickin' his nose in where it don't b'long! Don't know why he ain't still down in Purgatorio, botherin' the whores 'n the desperadoes down there 'n leavin' me the hell alone!"
Chris exhaled slowly and watched as Vin and JD went to gather their tools, with Vin grousing the whole time. "Buck," he asked quietly, "you ever wonder what you'd do with five hundred dollars?"
THE END