DISCLAIMER:
All the characters from the "Magnificent Seven" T.V. series are
property of Trilogy Entertainment, The Mirisch Group,
MGM Worldwide.
CITADEL
Prologue:
The Hill
It had been raining for
three straight days.
He was cold and hungry and a
little afraid. The rest of the faces around him were similarly gripped with
such feelings and the pall of doom weighed heavily upon them. They had already
spent more time in this gully than they should have and no doubt enemy
reinforcements were well aware that they were here and were closing in. The
tightening noose around their necks had driven their morale in to the dirt and
though he was their lieutenant, he could say or do very little to lift their
spirits when their commanding officer was determined to crushing it further
into dust.
Captain Hannibal Alexander
Julius, whose family had given him that auspicious appellation in the hopes
that the name would somehow affect the person, truly believed he was the
military equal of his namesakes. The fact that he had no successes in the
battlefield to date was attributed by him to the inefficiency of the men under
his command. While the young man had only recently began his tenure as one of
Julius’ lieutenants, he had enough intelligence behind him to know that Julius
lacked all the necessary characters requirements that made Hannibal, Alexander
the Great and Julius Caesar the generals they had been.
Unfortunately, lack of
ability did not dampen the man’s belief that he was the greatest commander in
the field of battle that was currently known to the rest of the world as the
American Civil War. Under his command, the highest casualty rate of any platoon
was credited to his genius. In his determination to succeed in taking that hill
or that enemy encampment, he was willing to risk everyone’s life except his
own. It deepened the animosity of those who had survived his strategies that
Julius often took the rear when he sent his men into battle, careful that the
military excellence he represented was not extinguished in his senseless death.
He often spouted such words
when he canvassed the field after the battle and side stepped the bodies of the
men he had sent to die.
The lieutenant had only
wanted to survive his tenure under Julius’ command. He had learnt long ago what
the price was for breaking the chain of command and the course his life had
taken following that mistake was burned into him. Standing up for what he
believed had cost him everything, the respect of his father, the career he
might have had and the life he had walked away from. He had become a lieutenant
thanks to his three years in
Unfortunately, Lieutenant
Chris Larabee was starting to suspect that he may not
even survive the night.
Over the gully where he and
men were entrenched was a hill that headquarters had decided most empathically
had to be taken in order to spearhead a larger invasion. Unfortunately, before
that end could be achieved, the platoon of men currently sitting under the
teeming rain would have to fight their way to the peak without being massacred
by the Rebel contingent giving similar orders to defend the location. Already
their numbers had been cut down significantly until only a handful of Union
soldiers remained. Despite Julius belief that sacrificing his men would be an
adequate price for such a victory, they had been unable to break the line of defence the rebels had maintained so determinedly over the
last four days.
Although the defeat of the
Confederate armies was more or less eminent, the enemy was not going without a
fight. The capture of this hill would be a beach head for the Union to launch
its advance into southern territory. It was not just a battle to the
Confederates but the end of all things if they were to yield the territory.
They knew this were and determined to prevent the capture by any means
necessary, marshalling forces from all across the area in order to combat the
platoon that was intending to take it. Chris knew as well as the rest of the
men in the platoon that they would never survive the united assault by those
forces if they delayed any longer. Unfortunately, thanks to Julius, their
numbers had decreased to such as state that even if they did try for the hill
before those reinforcements arrived, they were hardly in a position to be much
of a threat. The odds on either side of the coin were not good and no one expected
to survive.
Chris watched the men
huddled in the rain filled gully, their boots soaked from the inch of water
that had accumulated on the floor of the fissure, covered in mud and shivering.
They did not have a medic and Julius was not about to let any man leave his
command, injured or not. Thus the motley collection of mud covered soldiers,
bleeding and demoralised, remained where they were
inside the gully, trying to bleed some warmth into their bodies by running
their hands togethers, unable to create the friction
that would generate heat because their hands palms wet.
"Larabee!"
He heard Julius’ voice snap into his brain and conditioning to that voice
forced him upright.
The men reacted to Julius’
voice through the rain with unmasked contempt and Chris could empathise with the feeling. Taking a deep breath, he lifted
himself off the stool he had been sitting and tossed away the coffee that had
become cold from the rain before trudging through the walls of the trench. They
watched him leave, knowing that he was one of their own despite the officer’s
bars on the uniform and his indifference to the situation, aware that when it
came down to it, he was not cut from the same cloth as most officers they knew.
Without realising it, he had their loyalty from the
number of times he had stood head to head with Julius, even though he was as
powerless as they were.
Chris climbed out of the
gully and saw Julius occupying the only tent they had in their possession,
dining on hot food and looking decidedly more comfortable then the men with
him. Beside him, Sargent Bellison,
clearly one of Julius supporters was tending to his needs, more like a valet
instead of a soldier. Chris’ stomach heaved in disgust at the sight when the
rest of platoon had not a dry pair of socks between them while their commanding
officer, who had stationed himself well away from the danger, indulged himself
in whatever luxury there was to be found in this place.
"Captain." Chris
announced himself, trying to ignore the aromatic scent of food that was being
prepared over a fire not far from him. His stomach rumbled instinctively,
reminding him like the rest of the men who could no doubt smell this enticing
aroma soon enough, that he was hungry. "You wanted to see me."
"I’ve decided that
today is the day." Julius announced, standing up from his chair and
removing the napkin that was tucked in his shirt to face the younger man.
"The day for what
Sir?" Chris drawled although his dispassionate demeanour
belied the fact that his insides were knotting with foreboding.
"The day we take that
hill." Julius looked back at Chris like this was something he ought to
know without being told.
"Are we expecting
reinforcements?" Chris inquired.
Julius’ face darkened
considerably at the mere suggestion. "What on earth for?"
"Sir, you cannot expect us to take that hill without reinforcement. Our
ammunition is down and the men are exhausted after three days in the rain,
trying to take that hill over and over again. You send them out there and all
you will be doing is getting them killed."
"Now you listen to
me." Julius who was a short man by Chris’ stature, with dark hair and
narrow features, stormed up to Chris and glared at him. "We are going to
take that hill today without reinforcements. I will not be the laughing stock
of the entire Union by asking reinforcements just to take one measly patch of
dirt! Am I understood?" He glowered at Chris.
Chris stared at him and
knew then that the man was insane but he was mad man in power and that made
very dangerous indeed. The lieutenant cast his gaze down at the man’s hand and
saw it poised over his sabre. He had no doubt that if
he refused to obey, Julius would not hesitate to make an attempt at running him
through with that weapon. Behind them both, Sargent Bellison had stopped what he was doing and had his gun
ready to fire in case Chris decided to take this any further.
"Yes Sir." Chris
stepped away from both of them and decided that he rather die on the
battlefield then at the hands of this twisted duo. "Perfectly."
"I knew you would come
to your senses" Julius smiled triumphantly. "You are after all an
intelligent man. You come from a distinguished pedigree of warriors. You should
be able to recognise genius in the making. We will
take that hill." He grinned even wider but Chris had turned on his heels
and started walking away before he said anything he might regret.
Chris returned to the gully
deciding in the short journey from Julius’ tent to the trenches that he was not
about to die to fulfil the bastard’s delusions of
grandeur. They did not have much ammunition left but they did have dynamite and
that would have to suffice to provide some of cover as they tried to traverse
the distance between themselves and the Confederate encampment. Julius had
ordered them to take the hill but he had not said how and that gave Chris some
latitude to work with. He was barely twenty years old and while he had seen
enough combat to know what he was doing, he had never actually formulated
strategy, let alone lead men on his own.
Chris had never wanted to
break the chain of command however, to obey the order given to simply take the
hill would end his life on that muddy space between the two opposing forces and
Chris was not about to go out this way. His father had always said that there
came time for a man, whether he be a soldier, a doctor or a politician, to find
out what he was made of and it looked like the moment for Lieutenant Chris Larabee was finally here.
"We’ve been ordered to
take the hill." Chris replied as he descended into the muddy trench.
The response was not at all
favourable with the men voicing their dismay at the
order. Fear showed up in their faces but mostly anger as the man who would send
them on a suicide run like this. Chris wondered if Julius had any idea how
close he was to having a full scale mutiny on his hands unless Chris offered
them the words that would keep them all from being courtmarshalled.
"That crazy bastard is
going to git us killed!" A corporal named
Henderson spoke up angrily.
"Maybe," Chris
said calmly. "But I got a plan. How much dynamite do we have left?"
He asked no one in particularly.
Finally a man not much
older than himself with dark hair and a cocky look on his face, with no real
feeling about the dying to come except perhaps annoyance, responded. "We
got fourteen sticks of dynamite and fuses." The private replied. He looked
younger than Chris but was quite taller and sported a moustache that was
struggling to gain prominence on his face but still resembled peach fuzz at
this time.
"Wilmington
right?" Chris looked at the private, aware that he had only been
transferred into the unit in the last few weeks. Chris had not had much
opportunity to speak to the new arrival before this.
"Yeah," he tipped
his cap in Chris’ direction. "We got about 14 sticks left, fuses are a
little well but they’ll do."
It would be enough, Chris
thought to himself. It had to be. "Get all of it and come with me."
**********
The rain had not stopped
pouring and Chris stared at the path ahead, knowing in the flank of sparse
trees, Private Wilmington was waiting. Wilmington had not at all been pleased
to have been left out of the action but when Chris explained what needed doing
and how vital it was to the survival of all, the man was happy to oblige.
Despite himself, he could not deny that the good natured private was growing on
him. In the meantime, the rest of the men were falling into a line of charge,
having received orders to ignore everything that Captain Julius might say to
them and following the instructions he had given them prior to their formation
on the field.
"Remember men,"
Julius continued his speech to which no one was really listening, concentrating
on what they had to do get out of this situation alive. "When I give the
order. You will let nothing get in your way. You will fight to the top of that
hill and claim in the name of the Union!" He exclaimed, expecting them to
sound their agreement to his rousing speech with a battle cry of enthusiasm and
was disappointed when they did not. Frowning, he stepped aside and watched the
row of bayonet’s and guns create a jagged phalanx of steel before the men about
to go into battle.
Chris did the same, hoping
to hell he was right about what he was planning or else a lot of men were going
to die. He wondered what his father would do in this situation and then realised if General Larabee were
here, they would have taken the hill days ago and need not have any reason to
countermand the orders of their commanding officer.
"CHARGE!!!!!!"
Julius shouted.
The platoon rushed forward,
all eyes watching Chris as he led the charge across the field. The rain was
still coming down and no matter how he may reason that his plan were sound,
people were still going to die. Chris unsheathed his sabre
and held it up high, running through the mud with the rest of the infantryman
following when suddenly, Chris dropped the blade and shouted.
"First wave, in
position!" Chris ordered and saw the designated men halt in their
progress. No sooner than they had done that, Private Wilmington appeared out of
his hiding place and began hurling what sticks of dynamite he had in his
possession towards the Confederate encampment. At this distance, he could not
possibly hope for the explosives to reach them however, the following eruptions
would create enough disarray for the platoon to cross the space needed before
the rebels could cut them to pieces. Instead of the standard battle cry that
was uttered where everyone would be alerted to their presence, Chris had
ordered them to remain silent. The only thing he wished them to hear was the
dynamite detonating.
True enough, the resounding
explosions took place shortly before the arrival of the Union soldiers broke
through the smoke that had been created in its wake. Although he could not see
the rebel encampment, he could imagine the chaos taking place and hoped it was
enough. Although enemy gunfire had broken out, it was halted abruptly as the
Confederates tried to decide if they had somehow sneaked a canon into the
vicinity. It was precisely the illusion Chris had been trying to foster but
knew the margin between indecision and action would be slight and so the timing
of the attack had to be precise. When the soldiers of the Union blue broken
through the clouds of smoke created by multiple explosions, Chris issued
another order. "Drop!"
The men at the head of the
line immediately fell to their bellies and kept their heads down as Chris waved
his sabre at the line that had been formed with their
guns primed to fire. As soon as the signal was given, a loud roar of gunfire
escaped, further clearing the way for the line to proceed. He glanced at the
woods and saw Wilmington had advanced far enough to begin again and he sent
another volley of dynamite into the air to coincide with the wall of bullets
lying towards the enemy. The barrage continued and the soldiers of the front
line advanced a little further. The strategy alternated between the three
phases that Chris had employed and amazingly enough, it worked. Eventually,
they reached the rebel encampment, closer than they had ever managed in three
days of fighting and effort under the command of Captain Hannibal Julius.
The rebel enclave was completely destroyed by day’s end with a surprising
number of soldiers in the platoon surviving the engagement. The hill was taken
and the mood of jubilation was shared by everyone in the aftermath of the
battle. When it was all said and done, Chris walked the length of the rebel
stronghold and found no joy in seeing the broken bodies lying in the mud, even
if they were wearing Confederate uniforms. Blue or grey, they were still dead
and the ideology that prompted their death was probably the last thing on their
mind when the end came.
"Lieutenant!" He
heard a voice call after him. Chris turned to see Wilmington hurrying towards
him, wearing a big grin on his face, swaggering forward and exulting in the
cheers by the others at his part in the battle.
"Private." Chris
said unable to remain disaffected by that intoxicating smile and allowed
himself to reciprocate with a shadowy version of the one displayed by the
Private.
"I got to say
Lieutenant," Wilmington laughed. "You are one crazy son of a bitch. I
thought we were done for."
"Just lucky."
Chris shrugged, unwilling to take the credit when they had lost men to this
action.
"Lucky my ass…."
Buck remarked when suddenly, Julius appeared out of nowhere, with Bellison at his side. Judging by the stony expressions on
both men, Chris realised that it was time to face the
music for what he had done. He had expected this reaction sooner or later and
wanted nothing more than to get it over and done with.
"Larabee!"
Julius roared, his face dark with anger. For once, he was not concerned with
the victory that had been achieved and was striding towards Chris with purpose.
His outburst captured the attention of every soldier present and they paused
what they were doing and shifted their attention to the unfolding drama between
the Captain and the lieutenant.
"Yes Sir." Chris
gave Wilmington a weary look and turned to his commanding officer.
"You countermanded my
orders!" The man accused. "I ordered a straight charge! What the hell
was that ridiculous manoeuvre you pulled!"
Chris saw no reason to lie
to any of the man’s accusation. "It got us across the field in one piece
Sir." Chris replied. "A full frontal assault would have cut us down
before we even got half way across the terrain. I countermanded your orders Sir
but only so that a lot of good men could walk away from this alive, myself
included."
In the face of all the
death around him, suddenly his desire to keep his rank did not mean that much any more. The taste for command had left him in the last
hour. As he had been spearing Confederates with the bloody sabre
in its scabbard and shooting them left, right and centre, Chris realised that a military career did not seem as glorious a
vocation as he had always dreamed. The General always made it sound so easy but
until now, Chris had not realised just how hard it
could be and had no wish to lead men ever again once this war was over.
"You are a
coward." Julius shouted with rage, unable to believe that one of his own
men was speaking to him like this. He was a genius and if had not been for Larabee’s interference, the day would still have been his,
no matter what ludicrous method this upstart had employed.
"I ain’t the one
waiting behind the lines while my men get killed Sir." Chris glared at him
directly, finally saying what everyone else was thinking. Court martial or not,
Chris was determine to have that much say at least. Even if he was to be locked
up for the rest of the war, it would have been worth it just to educate this
man on a few home truths.
"How dare you!"
The Captain sputtered in fury, his eyes widening with outrage. "I’ll have
you drawn and quartered for this! I am your superior officer!"
"No, merely a higher
ranking one!" Chris retorted, deciding that along with breaking the chain
of command, he might as well take as stab at insubordination as well and turned
his back on the man.
"Don’t you walk away
from me!" Julius screeched like a man possessed but Chris could not care.
Around them were dozens of men who would never walk away from anything
again and so this little tirade did little to impress him. No doubt, Julius would
have him before a Board of Discipline but at the moment Chris was hardly
concerned. He was done for the day and he needed a drink.
Julius saw the lieutenant
striding away and looked around to see the sniggers that were barely hidden by
those who remained. The contempt in their eyes was for him and Julius realised at that instant that he would lose all credibility
in their eyes if he allowed such defiance to go unchecked. As it was, this
interloper had stolen the victory that should have been his with his audacious
plan of attack and Julius would broke no one taking what was his. Before he
even had time to consider his actions, the Captain pulled out his gun.
"Lieutenant!"
Chris heard Wilmington scream a warning.
Chris reacted immediately
to the urgency in that voice and started to turn. However he never managed to
face his attacker as the bullet from the Captain’s gun tore into his back. The
pain was beyond belief as Chris felt the penetration through muscle and flesh.
He did not even notice when his legs buckled under him. The last thing he
remembered was tumbling to the dirt, into the oblivion of darkness, almost
grateful at cool relief offered by the black.
*********
Chris spent three weeks in
a military hospital and then a month in convalescence regaining the use of his
legs. The bullet fired by Hannibal Julius had nearly severed his spinal chord and could have left crippled him forever.
Fortunately, field surgeons were able to extract the piece of lead without that
devastating outcome and Chris later learnt that Private Wilmington had been
largely responsible for his arrival at the hospital. Captain Julius was
stripped of his bars and dishonourably discharged
when the men of his platoon arrested him and his Sargent
on the spot after he had shot Chris in the back.
Chris learnt that during
his time in hospital, a military tribunal was convened and the men of his
platoon had given a damning testimony of Julius’ action as well as bringing to
light the incompetence in the man’s abilities as a military commander. The
result of the tribunal deliberations also commended Chris with the victory of
the last battle and he was summarily promoted, while Julius was stripped and
discharged, facing imprisonment for attempted murder. Chris returned to duty
with the platoon under his command and Captain’s bars on his uniform. His first
action upon returning to combat was to promote Private Wilmington to the rank
of Sargent, whom he learnt upon closer acquaintance,
preferred to be called Buck.
Part One
Bellison
Chris Larabee
hated it whenever they came up empty.
The seven had been on their
way home after spending three hard days following up a lead that claimed
notorious outlaw Johnny Ringo was in the vicinity and
emerged with nothing, leaving Chris with the impression that it had been a wild
goose chase to begin with. Ringo was starting to
develop mythological status as an outlaw, with every two bit hustler claiming
to have worked with the stone killer at one point or another. As Ezra had so
succinctly put it and had almost convinced Chris that beating the man to death
might not be a bad thing, ‘the Chinese whisper had left them wandering the
desert seeking the Promised Land’.
Sometimes, it was worth
breaking a few bones just to wipe that smirk of the gambler’s face, Chris
thought as they rode home.
He realised
he was in a foul mood but could not help himself. Three days away from Mary
made him anxious. Ever since he learnt about her pregnancy, he felt
uncomfortable about leaving her for any length of time. Considering what had
happened to Sarah and Adam when he had left them, Chris felt he could be
forgiven for his paranoia. It would not have been so bad if they had actually
manage to even sight Ringo but the information had
been sparse with just enough crumbs to keep them from giving up.
"So now that you and
the lovely Doctor Styles had made definitive plans to carry out your nuptials,
have you any idea when exactly that will be?" Chris heard Ezra asking Vin
as they took the familiar trail home, unable to deny that he was feeling better
knowing Four Corners was not too far away.
"Nope." Vin
shrugged, having been very close mouthed about setting a date since Alex and he
had yet to come to an agreement on that point. "Just know we’re gonna to
do it."
"Well
stay away from Inez," Buck warned. "Woman goes crazy whenever she
gets a whiff of one of these things." He recalled how she had been during
Chris and Mary’s weddings and knew the twitching he had seen in her eyes over
the last few weeks was just the first symptom of her desire to plan Alex and
Vin’s nuptials.
"Considering what a
romantic exercise in sentiment her own ceremony was, I wonder why." Ezra
looked at him sarcastically. "I mean she hardly had the wedding of her
dreams now did she?"
"Yeah," Nathan
chuckled. "Most of the time the bride and groom say I do and kiss.
In your case, you two said the words and had a baby!"
"Adds new meaning to
the term shotgun wedding." Josiah added, joining in the gentle teasing.
"That’s it," Vin
came to a decision after seeing what poor Buck was going through at this
moment. "We’re getting out of town to get hitched."
"You wish," Buck
retorted, unperturbed by any of the comments made by his so called friends
because he would not change a thing about how he and Inez had been joined. For both,
the day they had been married had coincided with the arrival of their little
girl and nothing could make either of them regret the lack of ceremony.
"Ain’t gonna happen."
"Why?" Vin met
his gaze pointedly. "Alex said she doesn’t want any fuss."
"Hah!" Buck
snorted in derision. "They all say that and I can tell you now that it is
the greatest lie since Ezra said he’s an honest business man now."
"Hey!" Ezra
exclaimed in protest. "Mr Wilmington, I take umbrage at that remark."
"Hate to admit this pard," Chris who had no wish to get involved in this
debate but was forced to support Buck on this issue in case Vin embarked upon a
course of action that would get him disembowelled by
his lady. "But he’s right. She’ll want a wedding."
"See?" Buck
grinned, glad to see Chris being supportive on this issue since his own
nuptials had been a three ringed circus, though no one in their right mind
would dare say to the gunslinger’s face. "No matter what they say about
not wanting a big wedding with all the trimmings, no matter how rough and
tumble they are, how independent they claim to be or hell for that matter, how
above all the fuss they are, every woman wants a big wedding."
"Every woman?" JD
asked, looking to the faces of his older contemporaries to see if they were in
agreement with Buck’s statement. While JD had never brought up the subject with
Casey, since they were not even engaged, let alone thinking about marriage, he
could not imagine her in a white dress, flowers or a veil.
"I confer with Mr
Wilmington on this my young friend." Ezra agreed. "It is a kind of
disease really. This charming creature to whom you have pledged your life
suddenly becomes this terrifying harpy who requires cake, place cards and
bridesmaids. I’ve seen men fall into their web before, it is not pretty
sight."
"Alex ain’t like that
at all." Vin said firmly, refusing to believe that his level headed,
sensible doctor could be so typically feminine.
"Sure she ain’t."
Buck rolled his eyes in resignation.
"Whatever you say pard," Chris added, making a note to be present in
order to scoop up whatever pieces of Vin were left after he made that decision
known to Alex.
"We shall remind you
of this conversation when you are fitted for your suit." Ezra grinned and
delighted in the horrified expression on Vin’s face at the concept of wearing
anything other than his buckskins.
"Hopefully it will be
for the wedding and not a funeral." Nathan tried to say with a straight
face but couldn’t quite manage it and had to turn away to keep from laughing.
"Ah Vin," Josiah
smiled "So young, so much to learn."
JD could only say, "Every
woman?"
**********
Four Corners was less than
an hour’s ride when they came across the convoy of wagons travelling across the
open spaces before the town. The procession of covered wagons rumbled through
the knee length covering of dried grass turned golden from the heat of the sun
and were driven by men who did not at all look like the settlers one normally
associated with such journeys. The seven did not reveal themselves immediately
upon sighting the group and immediately Vin was despatched
to ensure the nature of these travellers before the
rest of the lawmen crossed their paths.
Vin rode far enough ahead
so that he could use eyeglass without being seen. It was normal practice for
Chris to send him ahead, mostly because he knew better than the others, how to
approach stealthily without anyone noticing him. Vin had a tendency to fade
into the background and he knew how to observe without drawing attention to
himself. Years of tracking buffalo had taught him that since the consequences
were quite grave if those hefty creatures discovered his presence. One would
not guess to look at them, but buffalo could be pretty ornery when they caught
humans spying on them.
Vin did dismounted Peso
before they reached the crest of the last hill they needed to cross before
finding themselves on top of the convoy. He kept low as he neared the peak and
dropped to his haunches, allowing the lengthy blades of grass to mask his
presence as he held up the telescope and looked through it. It did not take him
long following that initial observation to realise
that the convoy was not at all a wagon train on its way to tame some new piece
of land no one had yet to stake a claim on. The absence of women gave that away
unless it was a settlement of funny cowboys, like the one Buck had the
distinction of escorting, when his..her...whatever...wig had blown off in the
wind.
Jokes aside, the men riding
into those wagons and horses playing escort to the procession were up to
serious business. They were all heavily armed, with rifles and gun belts around
their waists. Vin tried to see what was in the back of those wagons but could
not get a clear enough look to make a positive identification beyond the fact
that they were boxes. There was some serious artillery accompanying these
wagons and Vin became more and more certain that something was amiss. Deciding
he had seen enough, he quickly withdrew the way he came, still maintaining his
anonymity, before returning to Peso where climbed back into the saddle in order
to return to Chris and report what he had observed.
Feeling that same tingling
sensation he could never explain but had come to rely upon as the instinct that
was almost always right about danger, Chris and the rest of the seven
approached as close as they dared. It did not take long before Vin reached them
and related what he had seen. Chris took a deep breath, more certain that ever
that they had stumbled upon something, although he could not discern at this
time whether or not that something was a danger to them or Four Corners.
"You say they’re only
carrying boxes?" Chris mused, trying to think what could be the point of
the journey.
"Maybe they’re
carrying supplies." Buck pointed out, unable to dismiss the most plausible
explanation.
"Carrying a lot of
guns for supplies." Vin drawled because his sense of trouble was just as
acute for Chris and the situation did not look right in his opinion. "That
many boxes, wonder why they don’t take it on the railroad."
"It could be these
gentlemen prefer their cargo to remain anonymous." Ezra added.
"Could be where
they’re going ain’t got railway lines yet." Nathan suggested. However,
like the rest of his companions, he found the situation odd. "Still, we
are the law in these parts, closest thing to it any way. We could search
them."
"They don’t look like
the kind who are going to appreciate that." Vin pointed out even though he
was all for Nathan’s idea. He wanted to know what was in those boxes as well,
not simply to satisfy his curiosity but because the men who were guarding their
cargo seemed ready to kill for it. Anything that engendered that much
protection could not be legal or safe for that matter.
"Well then we’ll ask
them real nice." Chris retorted, digging his heels into his mount and
gesturing the others to follow him. As the horse galloped away towards the
convoy, the rest of the seven fell behind their leader. This time, the arrival
of seven men on horseback could not be masked by any trick of stealth and the
moment, they crossed the height of the last hill overlooking the path being
taken by the convoy, Chris knew that they were seen. However, he did not mean
to get into a shooting match just yet, not until they
knew what was being carried.
With a fort now established
in the Territory, it was not wrong to assume that what was in those crates
could be bound for the army. However, Chris knew that the army was not prone to
allowing civilians to freight their supplies, particularly ones so sensitive
that it would require a convoy impersonating the disarming facade of canvas
covered wagons common to settlers. Judging by Vin’s description, Chris very
much doubted that these men were soldiers in disguise either.
When they peaked the crest
of the hill, Chris knew they were being watched. In the distance, they could
see the convoy come to a halt. While that in itself was nothing, Chris
unfastened the flap on his holster and saw Vin checking the Winchester nestled
in the makeshift holster than he had fashioned so the weapon could be worn and
drawn like any handgun. The others were doing the same, aware that their
progress was now being watched closely. Josiah remained impassive and without
much reaction but he had pushed his dark coat behind his holster, while Nathan
used one arm to remove his coat, freeing up the assortment of knives he wore on
his person for use if it came down to a fight.
The convoy did not move
once it sighed the strangers. They had travelled for many miles without being
accosted and had to assume that this streak of isolation could not last
forever. Still, every man prepared himself for a fight as the seven riders
closed in on their distance. The nature of their cargo made a fire fight
difficult but by the same token, they could not allow it to be discovered
either. There was too much at stake to let things unravel because of this
unexpected visitation.
Chris rode towards the lead
wagon once they closed in on the convoy, hoping that there would be a benign
reason their presence but found that he did not mind if they chose to be
difficult. With being horse rancher, a husband and a father, Chris’ reputation
as being the original bad element was suffering a lack of credibility of
late and secretly, he longed for action to convince him that he had not changed
that much.
"Fan out." Chris
ordered as they approached the convoy. There was probably nothing in this but
if it did become ugly then it was wise to have the perimeter secured. Josiah,
Buck and Ezra took off in one direction, while Vin stayed at his side with
Nathan and JD heading off in the other direction. As they spread out over the
flat plain, Chris saw guns peeking through the seams of the canvas tents
stretched over the wagons and knew with certainty that they were not just facing
a bunch of travellers but something with more
sinister intent.
Chris and Vin slowed as
they approached the lead wagon, their horses trotting forward at a casual pace
as they reached the two men who were behind the reins. The driver was no one
that Chris knew, however, he had the kind of face that faded easily into the
background. Most of his face was hidden behind the tan coloured
hat he was wearing but he looked like any cowhand that Chris might see in the
saloon on a Saturday night. His companion however, was another thing entirely.
Chris recognised him immediately and was certain the
man knew who he was too. His hair was longer and certainly greyer, with a
drooping moustache that did not look too different from Buck’s with a goatee
protruding off the edge of his chin, just as greying.
"Bellison."
Chris stated.
There was no need for
introductions or reminders as Bellison’s intense
hazel coloured eyes snapped to his face at the
remark. "Lieutenant." He let the word slip out of his mouth like it
was something foul that needed ejecting.
"You know him?"
Vin asked Chris immediately, seeing the tightening of Chris’ jaw and the anger
filtering into his eyes that was unusual for Chris. Normally, in the face of
the enemy, Chris was impassive, never one to show his hand until he was ready
to strike For real anger to penetrate that mask of cool indifference told Vin
that the situation had just moved from potential to definitive trouble.
"I know him."
Chris said shortly, knowing by just the look in Bellison’s
face that he was up to no good and if Chris had any doubts that his desire to
search the contents of those crates was unjustified, seeing Bellison
here wiped all that away.
"How long has it been
Lieutenant?" Bellison asked.
"Long enough."
Chris replied tautly, not about to leap into the fray just yet and reminding
himself he had a job to do, not embark upon any personal vendettas to which a
military tribunal had already settled on his behalf. "What are you
carrying Bellison?" He asked, watching the man
with his predatory reflexes ready to move at a moment’s notice.
"Don’t see how it’s
any of your business, Lieutenant." Bellison used
the appellation like it was a bad word.
"Me and my friends are
the law in these parts." Chris answered, inwardly flinching each time Bellison called him ‘Lieutenant’ and was fighting the urge
to put a bullet in the man’s head as he had stood by and allowed Hannibal
Julius to put a bullet in Chris’ back so many years ago. The pain of his
convalescence came back to haunt him, not to mention that terrifying moment
when he had woken up and found his legs were numb. At the time, the swelling
from the bullet wound pressing up against his spine had been the reason for the
temporary paralysis but in the few seconds it took before that was explained to
him, it was easily the most frightening seconds of Chris Larabee’s
entire life.
Bellison and his companion took stock of the
men surrounding his convoy of wagons before turning back to Chris. "So I
see and that gives you the right to search my property without my say so."
"I guess it
does." Chris responded, a slow smile of pleasure at this little bit of
upset for Bellison crossed his face when he spoke.
"Please, give me some trouble. I wouldn’t mind shooting you if I
can."
Vin’s eyes widened in
surprise while Bellison’s narrowed. Vin had never
seen Chris so inflamed and wondered what on earth this man had done to the
gunslinger to engender such hatred. Obviously, they must have known each other
during the war since Bellison kept referring Chris as
Lieutenant."
"Look," Vin spoke
up since Chris was not thinking straight. "We keep the peace around here.
It looks might suspicious for a convoy to be travelling through the Territory
looking like settlers but ain’t." He tried to be the voice of reason
because he had the feeling the slightest provocation was going to trigger
Chris’ fierce desire to make this man pay for some past grievance.
"Ain’t gonna happen." The other man barked. "You ain’t got no
right to search us. We ain’t done nothing."
"Shut up Clancy."
Bellison snapped, his gaze still fixed upon Chris and
understood that this chance meeting was under the worst possible circumstances.
"You ain’t got no right to do this Lieutenant. You know it and I know it.
You just mad because of what happened."
No sooner than those words
had crossed his lips, Chris pulled out his gun and trained the barrel squarely
between Bellison’s eyes. "If you call me
Lieutenant one more time, I’ll kill you." He warned and made certain that
the man knew it was no idle threat since Chris fully intended to do it if Bellison gave him cause.
Vin could see the menace in Chris’ eyes and knew as well as Bellison,
how close he stood on the periphery. The man swallowed anxiously and looked
around himself and his convoy to take stock of the other lawmen surrounding
him, as if trying to make a decision. Vin’s own hand was poised over his
Winchester but in truth, he was uncertain who ought to be restrained, Bellison or Chris. There was a lot of anger inside his best
friend at the moment and it would take only a nudge for Chris to go over the
edge. When Chris Larabee was properly inspired, he
could be as mean as a rattlesnake. Cletus Fowler could attest to that.
If he were still alive.
"Alright," Bellison conceded at last. "Do what you got to."
"But…." His
companion started to protest almost immediately.
"Just shut up
Clancy," Bellison barked angrily. "The
sooner we get this over and done with, the better it will be for us. They ain’t
got no reason to hold us for our cargo and they know it."
"Glad you decided to
be reasonable." Chris said lowering his gun when suddenly, Bellison went for his and fired so quickly that if Chris
had not ducked, the bullet would have gone through his skull. A second shot
exploded from the side of the wagon, cutting through the sharpshooter’s
shoulder. Peso reared up in fright as the bullet whizzed past his ear and
toppled Vin from the saddle. As Chris recovered from the deception, Bellison had picked up the reins and snapped them hard. The
wagon bolted forward as gunfire erupted from all around them.
"Vin!" Chris
shouted, looking down at the tracker who was down in the dirt, picking himself
painfully from the dirt, clutching an injured shoulder.
"I’m okay!" Vin
reassured him. "Go after that bastard!"
Chris did not need to be
reminded twice and dug in his spurs into the side of his horse, sending the
animal off into a powerful surge of acceleration as it galloped forward after
the wagon that trailed a cloud of dust and dirt in its sudden departure.
Meanwhile the other wagons
attempted to make the same hasty departure but Nathan and JD immediately cut
them off, riding in hard and fast across the path they would have to take, with
guns blazing. However, it appeared that even though their route of escape had
been severed, they had no intention of allowing anyone to reach their cargo.
Through a hail bullets managed to drive the duo back far enough to dismount
their wagons and get into a defensive position in readiness for a fight. The
wagons were soon circled in traditional formation as if they were settlers
fighting off Indians or something of the like.
Nathan and JD began
shooting, aiming in particular for the men hiding behind the canvas. If there
was any doubt that they were ferrying something illegal, it had been more or
less swept away by the ferocity of the defence being
mounted against the lawmen. Nathan and JD kept on their horses, using speed to
keep them from harm as they started shooting. The enemy’s fire was mostly
concentrated underneath the wagons. JD sent a barrage of fire at that
vulnerable location and saw them rip through the bodies of the men who were
shooting at them from there. A rifle barrel peeked through the seams and Nathan
saw the movement of someone taking aim at the youth who had just despatched his friends.
"JD, duck!"
Nathan ordered and fired at the shooter before he could fire.
JD let himself slide to one
side of his saddle as he rode by the wagon and felt the bullet fly by closely
enough to know that if not for Nathan’s timely warning, he would have been done
for.
"Thanks Nathan."
He grinned, fully of cocky pride and broke off from the fight in order to
reload his gun in safety as Buck had drilled into his head on so many
occasions.
Nathan saw the crimson
stain of blood expanding against the white canvas of the wagon covering after
he had killed JD’s would be killer. The silhouette of the dead body could be
seen pushing up against the canvas. However, the guardians of the convoy were
far from done. There were still a good number of them that were being left to
the ministrations of Buck, Josiah and Ezra.
The three lawmen were
carrying out the same manoeuvre, circling the tents
like they were rampaging Indians. Buck for the life of him could not imagine
what was so important that these men were willing to die for what was inside
these crates. While it would be easier to simply yield the day and allow the
search, they had opted to fight a battle where they had very little chance of
winning. Buck also noticed that they were trying to draw as much of the fire
away from the wagons to themselves, almost as if what was inside the crates
were too precious to be damaged and had to be shielded with their bodies.
Buck saw movement through
the canvas and concentrated his gunfire on that spot. His bullets tore through
the canvas barrier and the splatter of red against the white made a contrasting
confirmation that he had nailed his target. Although Buck could not completely
see the man in the midst of his death throes, he could make out the long barrel
of a shot gun as the man fell against the canvas. In his descent, he must have
accidentally pulled the trigger to the weapon because the loud boom tore
through the air over the sound of already deafening gunfire.
However, it was nothing in
comparison to the explosion that followed.
The entire wagon was blown
apart, along with anyone who might been taken refuge under it. The fireball
spread outwards and consumed the horses tethered unfortunately to the wagon and
forced everyone away from the heat of the blast before contracting into solid
wall of flames. The terrible scream of horses in their death throes lasted only
second before Buck recovered his senses enough to shoot the poor animals and
end their fiery torture. The men below the wagon needed no such mercy. The
explosion had more or less killed them instantly.
"Jesus Christ."
Buck exclaimed, horrified by the blazing inferno before them.
"What the hell was
that?" Vin who was on his horse again, rode next to Buck who had been
frozen in place following the spectacle. There was debris of flaming pieces of
wagon covering the immediate area, spread out in a wide radius.
"They must have
dynamite in those crates!" Vin replied as he struggled to keep Peso
steady, since the horses had been so spooked by the terrible sound of the
explosion that they were still rather nervous and difficult to control since
the impulse to bolt was overwhelming.
"Dynamite doesn’t go
up like that!" Buck retorted.
His belief was further
aided by the fact that the explosion had more or less caused the men defending
the other wagons to abandon their posts. While the lawmen’s attention had been focussed on the explosion, they emerged from their hiding
places, hands up and weapons dropped to the ground, deciding that cargo capable
of so much destruction was not worth defending especially when one could get
killed doing it.
"This ain’t worth it
Mister!" One of them shouted as he approached the lawmen with his hands
up. "We were paid to transport this stuff, no one said anything about getting
blown up sky high doing it." A short, rotund looking man with a mouth full
of rotten teeth said as he kept his hands where they could be seen.
"What’s the
cargo?" Vin asked, glad the fighting was over because his shoulder
throbbed from where he had fallen. The bullet that had grazed its shoulder had
done very little damage thanks to the buckskin jacket he wore. The fall had
caused him more pain the bullet.
"Don’t know
Mister," the man answered truthfully, anxiously keeping an eye on all the
guns aimed at him the rest of his companions. "We was paid real well but
we weren’t told where it was going or why. We were only supposed to follow Bellison to the drop off."
"Alright," Vin
nodded, deciding that there was enough fear in that face to warrant the information
he was volunteering to be the truth. "Brother Josiah, Nate, JD, you want
to round these boys up, while me and Buck take look see?" Vin asked as he
nudged Peso forward to one of the intact and abandoned wagons.
"Always happy to
oblige," Josiah tipped his hat towards the youthful tracker and reached
for the rope hanging form his saddle. He dismounted a
moment later and approached the men while JD and Nathan kept their guns trained
on anyone of the men who decided to have a change of heart regarding the terms
of their surrender.
"Where’s Chris?"
Buck inquired as he and Vin trotted toward the nearest wagon.
"He went after that
the guy in front. Seems Chris knew him." Vin replied. "Though I can’t
say I’ve ever seen Chris so fired up to shoot someone, except maybe Fowler and
Ella."
"Well that ain’t
saying much," Buck admitted having known Chris in the days before the
seven and Mary. After Sarah and Adam had died, Chris’s temper had a hair
trigger that required little to set the gunslinger off on one of his rampages.
"No, this was kind of
personal." Vin replied, understanding what Buck was talking about since
they were all privy to the infamous Larabee moods.
"Who was he?"
Buck asked, feeling his curiosity piqued.
"I think he said his
name was Bellison."
Buck turned to Vin sharply.
"Bellison?" He demanded. "Are you sure
he said Bellison?"
Realising that Buck knew who this person was
as well, Vin nodded quickly. "Yeah, that’s what Chris called him. He kept
calling Chris, Lieutenant."
"Shit!" Buck swore
under his breath, very troubled by this. "I hope Chris doesn’t kill
him."
Conversation was suspended
for the moment as they climbed into the back of the wagon and spied the crates
these men had been willing to defend so fiercely until that tremendous
explosion had taught them otherwise. All boxes were nailed shut as the two men
examined them closely and discovered that the wagon space was almost filled
with their volume. Finally, Buck found a crowbar and prised
the wooden lid off since Vin was in no shape to do so with his injured
shoulder.
The lid came off easily and
Buck realised that though they were nailed shut, the
nails used to hold the lid close were not meant to secure with any real
strength. Whoever had locked up the contents of these boxes had wanted to
ensure that it would not require much effort to remove them from inside once
they had arrived at their destination. Inside the crates were tall jars, sealed
at the top with a clear fluid. For a minute neither knew what they were looking
at until they made the connection to the explosion.
"Oh shit." Buck
whispered and immediately pushed himself away from the crates, amazed that they
had not blown themselves to kingdom come already after all the shooting and
gunplay that had been going on during the last half hour.
"Yeah." Vin
nodded in agreement and then came to another startling realisation
when he remembered Chris. "Christ!" He swore loudly and quickly
scrambled out of the back tray, wincing at the pain that snaked up his injured
arm because of his exertions.
"Hey watch it!"
Buck hissed at the tracker for making the wagon bounce a little bit from his
sudden movement during his departure. Buck himself took as much care as he
hurried out of the wagon, not prepared to die in such a dramatic fashion, at
least not for another thirty to forty years at least. "I ain’t ready to
die yet!" He cursed as he followed Vin out of the wagon. The tracker did
not waste any time as he hurried to his horse and mounted Peso, ignoring the
injury to his shoulder as he rode towards the direction that he had last seen
Chris in the gunslinger’s relentless pursuit of the man called Bellison.
*******
Chris fired again.
The hired gun at the back
of the wagon was doing his absolute best to ensure that Chris did not close the
distance that separated the wagon from his black gelding. The wagon thundered
forward, trying desperately to outrun Chris even though it was a futile effort
With less of load to carry and not required to run in tandem as the horses
yoked to the wagon was required to do, the gelding narrowed the gap easily.
Chris kept his head down as he fired, making each bullet count and forcing the shootist trying to kill him, further into behind the
obscurity of the canvas. The more he pushed the man back, the quicker he was
able to bring himself towards the tray’s edge. Chris paid little attention to
where they were going, aware only that Bellison was
on the wagon and had tried to kill him again.
He looked up during the
pause in firing and saw the hired gun withdrawing further into the wagon in
order to reload his rifle. Knowing that the narrow margin of time taken to
reload the weapon was the opening he needed to get to the wagon, Chris pushed
his horse harder, until the black gelding was galloping forward in a blur of
speed. He took careful aim as he saw the man glancing up anxiously, trying to
reload his shotgun before Chris closed the distance between them. There was a
moment of clarity when both men met each other’s eyes and one realised that it was too late. The gunslinger pulled the
trigger on his peacemaker and saw his opponent stagger backwards when the
bullet found its target, the enemy’s gun tumbling out of his hand and bouncing
out of the wagon harmlessly before disappearing behind them as the wagon and its
pursuer left it behind.
The man collapsed into a
heap, his blood running across the floor boards of the wagon while droplets
were whisked away by the wind as the team of horses maintained their frantic
speed to escape Chris. With that opposition out of the way, the distance
between the two was quickly shortened and very soon Chris found himself nearing
the edge of the wagon. He could see the crates sliding across the floor
precariously and once again, he wondered what Bellison
was so determined to hide. The gelding continued at its relentless pace
forward, determined to bring his master to where Chris desired.
The gelding came up the
side of the wagon and Chris jumped free of the saddle into the back tray. He
landed on his knees and immediately had to leap out of the way of the bullets Bellison was firing at him from the wagon. He rolled to his
feet easily and fired back. Unfortunately, his bullet did not hit Bellison but the driver. Chris felt his stomach hollow
knowing he had shot a man in the back but had little time to soul search on the
matter since it had been an accident and Bellison had
been shooting at him. When the driver slumped over the seat, Bellison met Chris’ gaze and decided that staying was not
worth it, considering what they were carrying in those crates that his pursuer
had no idea about.
As Chris hurried up the
length of the wagon, Bellison jumped off the speeding
carriage into the soft grass. The wagon continued its juggernaut pace and Chris
emerged at the head of it to see Bellison being left
behind as the horses kept running ahead. Looking before him, Chris saw that the
wagon was nearing the edge of a ravine and knew that if he did not bring the
team of horses to a halt it could end very badly for everyone concerned.
"Chris!" He
suddenly heard Vin shouting as the tracker rode up fast beside the wagon,
struggling to catch up.
Christ searched for the
driver’s reins and saw that they had slipped below the wagon and there was no
way to retrieve it unless he was willing to get in between the harness of both
animals and pick it up from the ground where it was dragging. The ravine was
starting to loom closer in the distance and Chris knew if he did not get off
this wagon soon, he would go over the edge with it. Still, he was not willing
to let the horses plunge to their deaths if he could help it. Standing up, he
took a step back and braced himself on the seat, even though the wagon was
rocking precariously and balance was not easily maintained. Taking a deep
breath, he took two quick steps forward and launched himself onto the back of
one of the frantic horses.
"Chris!" Vin shouted again, having seen Chris performed that minor
feat of daring. "Get off that thing!"
The horses were extremely
spooked and despite Chris’ best efforts to calm them down into stopping, they
still continued rapidly towards the edge. He tried pulling on the bridle of the
animal he had mounted in an effort to bring it to a stop but the horse was too
panicked to do so. It was galloping even faster, as if its adrenaline were
pumping with as much ferocity as Chris had been in his determination to get Bellison in his sights.
"Chris, you got to get
off there!" Vin rode harder and faster, pushing Peso the edge of its
limits as he came along side of Chris. "That wagons full of nitro!"
The tracker warned.
Nitro? Chris looked over
his shoulder instinctively because the word penetrated and sunk through the
haze of his rage and his stubborn determination to get his hands on Bellison. It was something of a miracle that he had not
been blown to pieces with the gunfire exchanged prior to his embarking on the
wagon. He finally understood why Bellison had not
chosen to stay and fight him since the Sargent was
not someone he could call a coward, slimy as the bastard was.
"Hell!" Chris
swore under his breath and saw what Vin intended as the tracker tried to narrow
the space between Peso and the horse Chris was presently situated. He secured
his footing to perform the manoeuvre required once
Vin was in position and felt badly that the horses could not be saved. The edge
was becoming dangerously close and Chris knew if he was going to make the
crossing it would have to be now.
Finally Vin was in position
and he extended his hands towards the gunslinger. Chris looked at head, seeing
nothing but space in front of him as the wagon started to run out of ground.
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed Vin’s arm and jumped off the horse, barely
making it onto the saddle before Vin pulled him into place. He saw the tracker
wince in pain and realised that Vin had offered him
his injured arm. The wagon continued on its way and both men could only watch
helplessly as it reached the edge and showed no signs of stopping.
Chris and Vin watched in morbid fascination as the wagon went over the ravine
and flinched at the sound of terrified horses who probably came out of their
stupor long enough to realise that they had condemned
themselves to die. Terrified screeches followed the horses’ descent and though
they did not have to see the destruction that followed, they could well imagine
it. However, the cargo of nitro glycerin in the back of the wagon was not about
let their passing end that simply.
The impact of all that
glycerin created the explosion Vin feared. The ground fairly shook as a column
of flame shot through the air that could be seen even from the edge of the
cliff. Chris and Vin climbed off Peso and walked to the precipice, feeling the
same curiosity at to the spectacle of destruction that was taking place at the
bottom of the ravine. Nitro was deadly and unstable. That it had taken such a
tremendous impact to cause the detonation that had been created upon its abrupt
stop was a surprise. Vin considered it a small miracle that it had not been set
off during the gunfight Chris had exchanged with the occupants of the wagon
prior to its violent demise.
Beneath them, the two
lawmen from Four Corners were faced with the sight of a demolished wagon and
two horses consumed in a ball of fire. They could smell horse flesh burning and
the stench made their stomach curl with distaste. Debris was scattered through
the floor of the ravine and for a long moment, Chris could only watch the
flames, mesmerised by the dance of fire as his mind
thought about Bellison and their history.
"Thanks Vin."
Chris said to Vin, grateful that the tracker had come after him before he had
allowed his vengeance to make the fire below his funeral pyre as well.
"Don’t mention it pard," Vin answered easily. "I didn’t see where Bellison went though." He apologised.
At the time, he had been too concerned with reaching Chris after learning what
dangerous cargo the wagon had been carrying.
"That’s okay,"
Chris frowned. "He’ll turn up again."
However, Chris did not say
what was truly on his mind. As far as he knew, Sargent
Bellison should be languishing inside an army prison
for what he had stood by and allowed done by Captain Hannibal Julius. If he was
not incarcerated but free then with that realisation,
Chris was faced with another unpleasant possibility.
Was Julius out there too?