voxckb@aol.com
voxckb@aol.com
Part Four - Waking Up
For the first time in more than a few days, JD Dunne woke up at sunrise. He felt so good. Rested, healthy, happy--this was how life should be. He thought about his mother and remembered her as healthy and beautiful. Where was that terrible grief that had been his companion for the last two years?
He wondered about that. He couldn't pinpoint a time when it left. He just knew that every day he had more and more fun joking around with Buck, and he spent more time learning how to be a good peacekeeper from Vin and Chris. When he went to breakfast in the morning, he had someone to eat with.
People cared that he ate enough--that he got enough sleep. Even though it drove him crazy sometimes, he had to admit that he liked it.
And Chris Larabee was proud of him.
JD smiled in spite of himself. Chris had told him he'd done good. It was the closest JD had come to having a father who was glad JD was his son. It kinda made up for his real father leaving him.
The sun made a wall of light in his room, cutting through the little gap between the curtains. It would really be hot today. JD closed his eyes and let the morning sun warm his face even as he lay in bed.
He had everything he'd ever wanted. Freedom . . . finally. Years working as a stable boy for an evil man had robbed him of a carefree childhood. But he'd make up for that now and never take freedom for granted.
He had a trade--something he could do better than anybody he knew. He had a trade he loved. It fulfilled him somehow. And the supply of horses he could work with seemed endless.
He had adventure. Almost every day, he lived out his dreams.
And he had a family. He finally had a father, and brothers--friends . . . friends he'd die for.
Friends who would die for him.
Suddenly, he felt a lump in his throat. The only one who'd ever loved him that much was his mama.
JD would miss her forever, but now he could remember her the way he wanted to--not as she was dying. He remembered how she lived, and that gave him great peace.
For the first time in his life, JD was happy. He lay in bed just thinking.
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Ezra had not slept at all. He hadn't changed clothes. The town that yesterday had been all he'd thought he wanted was now vile and repugnant to him. And men he had felt a kinship with--fellow gamblers-- had taken his "sport" and made it a bloodsport. . .
With Vin's blood.
Damn them! He wanted to annihilate them, but with Vin's life at stake, Ezra would probably have to feign affection for them. He'd have to pretend to be one of them so he could put an end to the madness.
Hunting humans . . . dear God, who could do such a thing?
How was he going to get Vin out of this? How long was this little . . . game supposed to last? What if Vin were dead already?
Ezra shook his head. If anyone could elude hunters, it was Vin Tanner. Vin would be all right.
He hoped.
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Vin Tanner had slept fitfully. Pursuers hid in the corners of his dreams--waiting to capture him, waiting to deliver him, waiting to kill him.
He hurt in his sleep, and he hurt worse when he woke up. It hadn't been a dream. God help him, this was no dream.
Vin tried to pull himself up . . . but his body resisted. He lay back again and started to roll to his side.
He had the presence of mind to bite back the scream that erupted from his throat. His arm . . . Oh, God. The pain was almost blinding. Vin squeezed his eyes closed as tightly as he could and rolled to his other side. His good hand reached to try to find the source . . .
The hilt of a knife--a knife that was still in his arm.
And Vin remembered that he'd killed someone with his bare hands. It was only a matter of time now before the hunters would find him.
Or he'd bleed to death first.
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Buck Wilmington woke up alone.
And in a bad humor.
He must be losing his touch. Why else would the ladies be so hard to find? Time was once when a woman would go out of her way to meet him--based on reputation alone, he figured.
And what was the problem with Inez? Why wasn't she interested? He'd tried everything he knew to do and it didn't make any difference at all. He was out of options.
He hated his bed when he was the only one in it. It just didn't feel right.
It didn't smell right either. No perfume, no powder . . . just . . . man smell. Leather, boots, smoke. Buck frowned. Maybe he needed to take a bath more often. He sniffed under his arm.
No . . . couldn't be that. He smelled right nice.
Why didn't Inez like him? This just didn't make any sense at all.
Then his eyebrows shot up. He had an idea!
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"What's he doing?" JD asked. It was a stupid question, considering that Nathan was sitting at a table by himself, eating breakfast and reading voraciously.
Josiah looked up at the kid, then over at Nathan, then back at the kid. JD rolled his eyes. "What's he *reading*?" he asked.
"A medical book," Josiah answered. "It came in yesterday."
"Wow, what's it about?"
Josiah squinted at the kid. Maybe JD really *wasn't* getting enough sleep. "Medicine, JD," Josiah answered.
And again, JD rolled his eyes. "What *kind* of medicine? Heart, bones, diseases . . . surgery?"
Josiah smiled. "I don't know. Why don't you ask him?"
"He looks busy. I don't want to bother him."
Josiah glanced back at Nathan. The healer did look busy. He seemed absolutely mesmerized by the textbook. Josiah admired his friend's tenacity.
JD spoke in a low voice. "Josiah . . . why do some folks say there's no such thing as a colored doctor? That doesn't seem fair."
Josiah looked back at JD. "It's not fair. There are lots of things that aren't fair in the world, JD. At least Nathan doesn't let folks' prejudices determine what he can and can't do. We'd all have been dead a couple of times by now if he did."
"He's as good as lots of doctors back east--better'n some."
Josiah smiled a bit. "He's got what the Cheyenne call the 'touch'. They consider the ability to heal a gift from God."
"Why doesn't he go on and call himself 'doctor'?"
"It's not that easy, JD. There's lots of schooling that goes into being a doctor."
JD bit his lip and studied his breakfast plate. "Well, you're right, then. It's not easy. Schooling takes a lot of money." The boy cut his eyes over to the healer. "I bet he wants to go to school as bad as I do."
Josiah watched the young man closely. He hadn't really considered JD's dreams of college. Of course the boy wanted to go. The preacher wasn't prepared for what JD said next. JD looked at Josiah, his eyes bright with an idea. He spoke very softly, so Nathan wouldn't hear. "I bet we could all get some money together . . . and you know the town could . . . Mary could put it in the paper . . . we could send him to school. He is our own doctor, after all."
"Have you thought about saving your money and going yourself?" Josiah asked.
"Well, sure I have. I think about it . . a lot." JD looked at Josiah almost incredulously. "It doesn't make sense for me to go. I don't have that 'touch'. Nathan ought to go before me. He has a real future."
The boy had a good heart. "So do you, son," Josiah said.
JD waved him off. "I'll go sometime. I'm good at horses." The boy smiled broadly, as though this were some great revelation. "I don't need college for that. I just want to go someday because there's so much I don't know." JD hadn't touched any more of his breakfast. He was too excited. "So what do you think? Think we can get enough to send Nathan to school?"
"Eat," Josiah commanded, and once the boy took another bite, he responded. "It's not just the money . . ."
"Well, if it's that 'predy-juice' you were talking about, we'll just get Chris to take care of it."
"'Prejudice' . . . and all the peacemakers in the world can't fix that, JD." Josiah looked back over at Nathan. He wondered how to say this. "JD, how much schooling have you had?"
JD shrugged. "I don't know . . . off and on my whole life. Sometimes I went to school . . . sometimes I got to work with a tutor . . . if we were at a nice house. Sometimes I had to work so hard, there wasn't time to study. I tried to read when I couldn't go to school." JD shrugged again. "Hell, I don't know. I can read and write. I've had some numbers. I never got to take science. Always thought that'd be fun. Never took history, but I read about it all the time."
Josiah downed the end of his coffee and stood up. "Son," he said, resting his big hand on JD's shoulder. "I think I know a way we can make this happen." He leaned over and whispered, "don't let on, though."
JD smiled broadly and settled down to eat.
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Ezra Standish looked every bit the dapper English hunter. He walked slowly through the heavy pipe smoke to the table where Sir Smythe sat with his cohorts. Just yesterday Ezra had reveled in the heady atmosphere, surrounded by the amenities he had always longed for. Now it all seemed hideously foul.
Everyone noticed the Southerner. How could they not? With riding crop and fancy weapons, riding jacket and jodhpurs. Smythe's eyes grew wide, then he laughed heartily.
"And just where do you think you're going, young man?"
Ezra continued to hook on cufflinks and adjust his pocketwatch. "I want to join the chase," Ezra said coolly.
"Well son, they're bound to be half-way to . . ."
"I know this Tanner," Ezra interrupted. "I know how he works." In response to the surprise that registered on the men's faces, he explained. "I have found it to be useful employ to turn the occasional bounty over to the appropriate authorities. It helps to make up for the . . . slower . . . times out in the barren, God-forsaken wilderness where only penny-ante games can be found. At any rate, one time I picked up the trail of Mr. Tanner . . . who has a substantial price on his head, as I am sure you know. I tracked him an unbelievable distance . . ." Ezra paused for dramatic effect and forced a grimace on his face. ". . . and he left a permanent souvenir in my shoulder in order to stop me."
Smythe frowned. "I'm not so sure my son will want more competition in his game."
"Not competition, I assure you." Ezra smiled, his tooth winking at the man. "Assistance. I am sure your son is an excellent hunter, but no one has been able to catch Vin Tanner."
"What makes you think you can?"
Ezra leaned over and rested both hands on the table. "I've studied him. I know how he thinks now. And I will either catch him or your boy and his compatriots can make me their quarry."
Smythe laughed at first, until he seemed to realize that Ezra was serious. "What about the money?"
"If I am the one to capture Mr. Tanner, then I will require half of the bounty and half of the winnings on the table. You gentlemen can decide what to do with the rest."
Smythe stood up slowly and extended his well-groomed hand. "You have a deal, my friend."
Ezra felt the bile rise in the back of his throat as he shook hands with the man who treated human life like cattle.
He would love burying this whole operation.
But first he would have to find Vin.
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It was Buck Wilmington who first saw the telegram from Ezra. But what the hell did it mean? Probably some fancy way of saying he was getting laid and wouldn't be home for a few days.
Well, it wouldn't surprise him. Judge Travis would probably get some before Buck Wilmington would again.
Buck stepped out of the telegraph office and into the street, still trying to figure out what Ezra meant.
//Need tracking journal *stop* may go to Tuscosa before returning *stop* . . .
"STOP, BUCK!!!"
Buck looked up in time to see the stagecoach bearing down on him. "Shit," he muttered and he dove out of the way.
The driver cursed at Buck as he passed by, then Chris Larabee trotted across the street.
"What the hell were you doing?" Chris said, jerking Buck by the arm.
"Lemme go," Buck said. He brushed the dust off of his clothes and then searched the ground for the telegram. "Ezra sent . . . a strange message."
Chris leaned over and picked up the crumpled paper and read it to himself. His face became grim.
"What?" Buck asked softly.
Chris waited a moment before answering, then he folded the paper and slipped it into his hip pocket. "Get the boys together, Buck. We gotta ride."
