Vocabulary

By: Linda Backer

It was so unusual, that voice, at that timber, coming up the boardwalk towards the batwing doors, that the three men at the table turned to watch as he entered, unbelieving.

" . . . rotten, cocksucking bag'a . . ."

Vin stalked up to the table, slammed back a shot of Buck's whiskey, and sank into the chair beside him. Leaned over towards the mustached man and hissed,

"I don't know how in the hell you ever kept from pig sticking him a long time ago."

Buck's face broke in a feral grin. "You wouldn't be talkin' 'bout Chris, now, would 'ya?"

"Sonofabitchin' . . ."

Buck refilled the shot glass and pushed it towards Vin agreeably.

"Now, he can be a mite hard to git along with, sometimes, I'll grant you that."

Vin downed the second shot and Buck quickly filled it again.

"That know-it-all bastard is . . ."

"Mr Tanner, your vocabulary at times simply astounds me, the quality of usage and the literary---"

"Go ta'hell, Ezra."

"My dear Mr Tanner, I was in no way berating your choice nor alliteration of words for Mr Larabee, I assure you."

Buck broke in, pushing yet another shot towards Vin.

"Why'ncha have another, pard?"

Nathan turned to Buck, reaching out his arm in Vin's defense.

"Take it easy on him, hell, he's been riding all day and it's hotter 'n Hades out there. Probably ain't had a lot to drink today, neither."

Buck smiled again. "Probably not." He turned back to Vin. "Thirsty, Vin?"

"Hell, yes." He tipped back another.

Buck motioned Inez to the table. "Keep 'em coming, sweetheart."

She gave a disgusted shake of her head, but retrieved another bottle and set it on the table.

"That motherfucking Larabee is gonna . . ."

"That's right, Vin, you jes tell Ole Buck all about it. I reckon I 'kin understand how you could get your longhandles in an uproar, riding with him all day. Have another drink."

Ezra and Nathan traded knowing looks and settled in for a long evening.

***

"Mr Wilmingtion, your solicitousness towards our colleague leaves me speechless."

"Then why you running your trap, Ezra?"

The men at the table studied the motionless form of the tracker, who sprawled across the chair, hatless, head thrown back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling above him. He hadn't let go a string of curses for almost an hour, and only the gentle rise and fall of his chest indicated life.

"What do you suppose Mr Larabee has done to elicit such a response from the normally amiable Mr Tanner?"

Buck shrugged. "Who cares?"

"Why, Mr Wilmingtion, don't you?"

Buck shook his head and smiled again. It seemed that he was enjoying the evening immensely.

"What ever it is," and he turned to include everyone at the table, "I been there." He tapped a finger towards the inert form at his side.

"Do you mean drunk, or disorderly, Mr Wilmington?"

"Both."

"But where do you think Chris is?" JD hadn't said much since joining the others earlier. "Do you think maybe," he shot a look around the room, as if someone might be listening in on the conversation. "Maybe, he killed him?"

"Well, iffen he did, son, I reckon Chris deserved what he got."

"Buck!"

"Now, boy, Vin here didn't kill Chris!"

"Then where is he?"

"Hell if I know. Now you jes sit right there and enjoy the evening. Look at it this way, if Chris does show up, Vin couldn't hit the broadside of the barn with his sawed-off. So I reckon he's safe."

Vin's head rolled forward at the mention of his name.

"Huh?"

"'Nother shot, pard?"

His head tipped forward and crashed against his chest. He struggled to raise it again to complete the nod of agreement.

"Gotta take a piss. Where's Larabee?"

"JD was just askin' that very same question. Now, where, exactly, did you leave him?"

Vin laughed. "Left him bitchin' 'bout his fuckingdamnsonofabitchin hat."

"Where?"

"He's lookin' for it. Ain't never gonna find it where I put it neither."

"Where'd you put it, Vin, I ain't gonna tell him."

Vin leaned towards Buck conspiratorily, and fell face first to the wooden planks. Buck grabbed him by the shoulder and flipped him face up.

"Thanks, pard," he slurred.

"Yup. Where's the hat?"

"Church steeple. Any pigass pile 'a steamin' shit could see it up there. Not Larabee, though, cause he can't see with his head up his own ass."

"What'd he do, Vin?" JD leaned over him.

Vin's eyes trailed the young man's worried expression and frowned.

"What'd he do?" JD repeated.

Vin looked over towards Buck, with a confused look on his face.

"What'd he do, Vin, exactly?" Even Buck was beginning to get curious.

Vin continued to frown.

"Quit yer yammering, shit it's dark it here." He gazed around warily.

"You're laying on the floor, Vin, it's lighter up here where the lanterns are."

He grunted a response and began to rise. Or attempt to.

Buck grasped one arm, Nathan the other and they hauled him up.

"Gotta piss."

"Outside, then pard."

"Yep." He looked around.

Buck pointed. "Door's over there. C'mon." He dragged him, arm slung over his shoulder, towards the door.

"Hey. HEY!" JD hollered adamantly. "What did Chris do?"

Buck turned back to Vin, who was studying JD intently.

"Shit. I can't fuckinggoddammit remember."

The two men turned towards the swinging doors and staggered away, Buck because he was laughing so hard.

"Yep, pard, I been there. I been there."

The end

Vocabulary: The First Sequel

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