Part Five

The Door

"Pray tell why it is always I that has to undertake these tiresome chores?" Ezra Standish asked of Chris Larabee when the gunslinger met him at the Standish Tavern the next morning to inform him that he was required to go to Purgatory for a little of reconnaissance. The gambler’s mood was already less than hospitable, considering the man had spent most of the night camped outdoors keeping watch on the nitro at Nettie’s place with JD and Nathan for company. As romantic as a night under the stars might sound to someone else, especially Vin Tanner, it was Ezra’s belief that the progress of human civilisation had been undertaken so that human beings no longer needed to sleep in the open.

Unfortunately, Chris Larabee was in no better mood. He had been forced to spend his evening alternating between a few hours sleep in the spare room and spending the rest of the night on guard duty while suffering an immense hangover after the drinking session he and his father had indulged during their attempt to talk things through. While progress had been made with the general, Mary was another story entirely and she was still extremely displeased at learning just how much he had kept secret from her during their months of marriage. He supposed he did not blame her for being mad but he was not about to start apologising for himself.

As he downed coffee, hoping to dispel the prolific throbbing in his temples, he winced as Ezra’s typical petulance ringing in his ears. Chris was no in no mind to argue with the man who could reduce to him to a murderous disposition by his diatribe of protest when they both knew he was going to Purgatory one way or another. "Because you’re good at it and being a professional gambler that you are, you don’t exactly look like a lawman."

"Thank you so much." Ezra retorted and added. "Neither do you for that matter but I will not quibble."

"Ezra just shut up and go." Vin groaned, having less patience than Chris and seeing his best friend inching towards the edge of his restraint and wanted to spare Ezra a thrashing if he continued his ambivalence and tipped Chris over the edge. "We just need you to snoop around a bit and get some answers."

"Since you asked so nicely Mr Tanner," Ezra frowned, knowing that they were right and that he was the only one who could do this. One of the advantages of being Ezra Standish was the fact that wherever he went, he was pegged as a gambler immediately, mostly because of his immaculate grooming and sense of fashion. His manner would not allow most people to believe that he was a lawman and supposed that the misconception was what made him so exploitable as a source of information. "I shall depart after breakfast."

"Keep your eyes open," Chris warned, pouring himself another cup of coffee after the first cup had done nothing to dissipate the headache he was suffering or eliminate the aftertaste of too much alcohol in his system. "There are a lot of them and apparently they don’t take kindly too strangers."

"I will be my charming best." Ezra grinned, aware that he was living dangerously by baiting Chris like this but could not help himself when it was so obvious the man was suffering from a night of libation.

"Just don’t get shot." Chris growled, knowing what Ezra was playing at and not impressed by the gambler’s sense of humour.

Vin drifted away from the table and crossed the floor of the saloon, deciding that he did not wish to witness the carnage that Ezra was inviting upon himself. Glancing out through the saloon doors, he saw the people outside suddenly turning their attention towards the same direction, their eyes fixed on something that was coming down the street. Vin stepped through the doors, allowing them to swing backwards when he emerged onto the boardwalk The gentle rumble of horses was resonating through the floor boards, until he could feel them under his feet. Folk were emerging from stores and stepping out of from under shop awnings so that they could get a clearer look at what was coming down the street.

Vin could not count their number but he estimated at least a full platoon of Union soldiers riding into town, in their blue uniforms, dusty from travel through the dry terrain of the territory. It looked as if they were riding all night and at the head of the formidable display of rifles and bayonets was a lieutenant in full uniform, who seemed younger than Vin did and looked like he had less experience then the men he commanded. In either case, they still looked impressive enough to capture the attention of the townsfolk as they rode into Four Corners.

"Chris!" Vin called out, cutting through the continued bantering between Chris and Ezra.

Chris was at his side in seconds with Ezra not far behind and the three lawmen watched the procession of blue uniforms moving through their town. No doubt, they would be searching for the general and since Chris was more or less the law in this town, the gunslinger found himself striding forward to deal with the new arrivals.

"Well," Ezra said to Vin as Chris left them standing on the board walk. "Perhaps now we can be liberated of the tiresome chore of watching over the army’s comedy of errors."

"It wasn’t their fault that they were hijacked," Vin glanced at the gambler but did not wish to reveal that he was glad to have the nitro taken off their hands too. There was enough trouble out there with Bellison’s discovery that Chris Larabee now resided in Four Corners.

"Forgive me if I seem a little biased." Ezra remarked. "Union soldiers in large numbers still make me a little nervous."

"That’s okay, Confederate." Vin responded with a smile and took delight when the gambler made a face at him for the appellation.

"On that note I think I shall make my departure to Purgatory," Ezra said bristling. "Less I fall prey to more of your vulgar generalisations of southern pride."

Vin chuckled and replied. "You think you might need help?" Vin asked, knowing Chris had wanted to discuss that with Ezra that prior to the gambler’s departure to Purgatory but with the sudden arrival of the army requiring their leader’s attention, there had been no opportunity to bring up the subject.

"I do not believe so." Ezra replied. "Us gamblers are a solitary lot, we travel the plains searching for the game, picking up permanent fixtures in our lives. It is a lonely existence…."

"Enough," Vin groaned. "Get going."

Ezra tipped his hat at Vin as he descended the steps towards the livery stable where Chaucer was stabled when Ezra had no need of the animal. "I will try to get back in the morning. If you would be so good as to tell my dear Julia where I am, I would appreciate it."

"Will do." Vin nodded in understanding, knowing that he would wish similar intelligence to reach Alex if he had to leave town unexpectedly and knew the fiery headed Emporium owner would be worried if Ezra just suddenly up and disappeared. However, as the southerner widened the space between them, Vin could not resist but call out.

"Take care, Johnny Reb!"

Ezra paused and turned around long enough to offer Vin a well known but not at all gentlemanly gesture with his middle finger before he continued walking.

**********

Chris saw the general emerging from the hotel as he neared the platoon of union soldiers riding into his town. The people of Four Corners were obviously curious as to the presence of the army since Chris and rest of the seven had kept the existence of the nitro a secret from everyone else except those who were directly involved, like Nettie Wells. Nettie knew well enough to keep silent about the presence of such a volatile substance on her property. Chris could see the curiosity on their faces and knew that sooner or later he would have to given them some kind of explanation but not yet. Until the nitro was safely gone from Four Corners, Chris did not have to tell them anything.

Larabee was in full uniform and immediately recognisable by the soldiers whose presence he had requested here. As the procession came to a halt upon sighting him, they straightened up in their saddles and offered the proper salute before the general put them at ease. Following that gesture, the lieutenant in the lead dismounted his horse and strode towards Larabee. Chris arrived just in time to take position next to his father’s flank, a clear indication not only to his father but to the new arrivals that Four Corners was his town and he wanted to be involved in whatever process that led to the removal of the nitro.

"General Larabee Sir," the lieutenant announced as he reached Larabee. "Lieutenant Cleary."

"Lieutenant." Larabee nodded in acknowledgment. "This is Christopher Larabee, he is the law in these parts."

Cleary looked at Chris, obviously trying to discern if the similarities in surname was just a coincidence when the general noticing his ruminations, spoke up and put that question to rest. "Yes he is my son, now let’s move along, shall we?" Larabee said abruptly.

Cleary swallowed and averted his eyes from Chris, who kept his stony expression in place even though there was a slight curl to the corner of his lips when the lieutenant turned back to the general.

"The situation is this." Larabee replied, getting to the heart of the matter. "A shipment of nitro is presently being guarded by the men under Christopher’s charge. The nitro was stolen from one of our army trains and I require you and your men to assume the duty of guarding the shipment until I can make proper arrangements to have it transported from the nearest railway line. I believe that is in Sweet Water. You will take your men and proceed to the present location of the substance with my son, to relieve the men who have been guarding it since its arrival here. If all goes well, we will move out to Sweet Water tomorrow. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir," Cleary nodded event though there were questions he liked answered like what a general’s son was doing playing lawmen to a small hole in the wall town like this. However, he kept that curiosity to himself since he did not believe the general would not appreciate his interest.

"I want it kept quiet." Chris added further before Larabee could dismiss the lieutenant. "Folks don’t know about the nitro and there ain’t no reason for them to find out until after it’s gone. No sense creating a situation when there ain’t no need for one."

"Good thinking." The general seemed to agree and faced Clearl once more. "That clear enough for you, lieutenant?"

"It is Sir." Cleary answered, not at all liking that he was at the mercy of this civilian because of his relationship to the general, however, like before, he was not about to say anything about it.

"One other thing," Chris brought up the subject, now that it appeared that men were available for what he required. "We’ve been guarding the prisoners round the clock and the nitro at the same time. I could use a few of your soldiers in my jailhouse to give us a break."

"Do it." Larabee looked at Cleary.

"Yes Sir," Cleary nodded and understood then and there that the general would be granting a great many of his son’s requests. It took a few minutes before Cleary selected the men necessary to take up guard duty and Chris aimed them in the direction of the jailhouse. Chris knew that Buck wanted to spend some time with Inez and Elena Rose after their exhausting schedule of the last few days. Chris himself had been enduring the same pace and was glad that some relief was in sight, even if it came in the form of this pompous lieutenant who looked like he had less experience than JD.

"Well if they hold here for ten minutes," Chris remarked after the men had been despatched to the jailhouse and he had nothing more that needed doing in town to keep them from setting out after the nitro. "I’ll get my horse and we can ride out to Nettie’s. You coming?" He regarded his father.

"Not yet," Larabee replied. "I have to organise rail transportation for the cargo. Lieutenant, you will be under the authority of Colonel Markham upon arrival at your destination but you will adhere and respect local authority do you understand?" The general said firmly, making it very clear that he did not want the contempt that some officers tended to regard local law enforcement being displayed here. He may not have been in his son’s life for 21 years but he had knew Christopher well enough now to be aware that his son ran on a short fuse and was a crack shot. With a hint of pride as well as amusement, Larabee could not deny that he was built in pretty much the same way except that experience had tempered him with a little more restraint. Still it was nice to know that Chris had inherited some thing from him.

"Understood," Cleary answered, his gaze shifting to Chris long enough to show his dislike at those set of orders.

"Me and Vin will take ‘em out there." Chris regarded his father and then gestured that he wanted a moment away the eyes of Cleary who was unhappy at Larabee’s instructions to him about the treatment of his son. However, Chris wondered if that attitude would change if he knew that the order had been given mostly to keep Cleary from getting a bullet in the ass if he pulled any of that superior military crap with Chris.

Both men started to walk to the saloon where Vin was waiting to see what they were doing when Chris cleared his throat and summed up the courage to say what was needed. Strange how the personal stuff was so difficult to get out. "If you’re still in town tonight," Chris cast a sidelong glance at him. "I thought we might try supper again."

"You sure?" Larabee asked showing no reaction to that request but then the general had the best poker face of anyone he knew, even Ezra. Everything the man had ever felt was well hidden behind that tough mask and Chris knew that unconsciously, he had tried to emulate that invulnerability and had succeeded to a lesser degree.

"Hell, I ain’t sure about nothing any more but I know Mary was right about family." He admitted trying to inject some humour into the situation in order to avoid the awkwardness he felt.

"She was." The general agreed and then added after a moment. "By the way, I sent you to best schools I could think of, why do you sound like some like uneducated hick cowboy?"

Chris straightened up in annoyance at the description, particularly the use of the word ‘cowboy’ and stared at his father. "I ain’t a …" His son started to say.

"Don’t... correct.....me." Larabee retorted firmly and put Chris on the receiving end of one of those sharp glares that he had only up till now been in the habit of delivering to others. It was enough to cut short anything he had to say and suddenly Chris understood what the others often meant by the ‘Larabee glare’.

"Yes Sir," Chris fumed, remembering himself. "I can’t remember but were you always a hard nose son of a bitch?" He asked.

"Yes," Larabee nodded, not at all offended and unafraid to admit it. He was starting to enjoy his son as the adult, even if the years apart had made him a little rough around the edges. "But back then I could slap you around if you noticed."

Both men looked at each other for a moment and an involuntary smile escaped Chris which Larabee soon shared and for the first time since his father had walked into his life, Chris did not feel so bad about the way things were between them.

"Well," Chris drawled as he started walking again. "At least I know where I got it from."

********

Bellison had men in place for almost two days now.

Ever since the failed attempt to recover the nitro had forced them into retreat in order to rethink their strategy, Bellison had decided that a new tactic had to be taken. It was obvious the men that the Lieutenant had under his command would die before allowing anyone to take the nitro and with the arrival of a union general in town, it further complicated matters. Bellison gave his orders from Purgatory, knowing that their time in that locality would draw to a close the moment they acquired the nitro. Who could have foreseen the intervention of Chris Larabee, a man that Bellison had wanted in his sights for so long?. When he had reported his findings to the Commander, the man had almost been euphoric about getting his hands on the lieutenant that had destroyed both their lives.

However, Julius was not stupid especially when there was so much at stake. When their first attempt to recover the nitro had failed, the plans for revenge had been placed on hold for the time being at least until they knew how they were going to try for it again. Bellison knew that any strangers in town would be recognised on sight and thus he had kept his men watching the main tracks into town, knowing that nitro in the quantities the lawmen had discovered could only be despatched by the army. Eventually, the military would arrive to resume ownership of the dangerous shipment and Bellison knew the army well enough to be confident that he would have no trouble reacquiring the nitro from them once they took possession of it.

Less than a few hours after the arrival of the army in Four Corners and the subsequent notification that they had assumed the duties of guarding the nitro, Bellison knew that it was time to move and settle all scores at the same time. As instructed, one of his men had the foresight to follow the platoon to where the nitro was being kept since it was impossible to hide the tracks of so many men and discovered their property was now hidden on the property of a farm outside of town.

The guardians who had been keeping watch on the nitro relinquished their duties and headed back to town, having been told in no uncertain terms by the new arrivals that they need no longer worry about the shipment that had been the cause of so much trouble. Bellison could have predicted that as easily as he had known that the fresh face lieutenant in charge was no match for someone with brains. The lawmen from Four Corners had been dangerous but the army officer who ordered his men to set up camp in the open field where the nitro was kept hidden beneath bales of hay and canvas was exploitable.

Bellison and his men rode out to the farm when the sun had started to set, ensuring they were not seen by avoiding the main trails. Among Larabee’s number was a tracker and Bellison had learnt enough about Vin Tanner after their initial encounter to know that that the man was very good at what he did and would be able to read the signs of their presence if he chose to go looking. The timing had to be precise and Bellison’s man had been keeping watch on the proceedings almost immediately after the platoon had began setting up camp. Bellison’s plan to retrieve to the nitro hinged on arriving at a specific time.

That is before the platoon’s cook decided to serve dinner.

********

A few hours earlier, Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner had ridden towards Nettie Wells place, leading the military contingent that had arrived to take charge of the nitro shipment that was being hidden on the lady’s property. Lieutenant Cleary who was not hiding his disdain at having to mind his manners before civilian authorities, kept a suitable distance from them which suited Chris just fine. He did not like being reminded that he had to be respected because he was a general’s son any more than Cleary liked being forced to do so. However, he had to admit feeling some measure of ease now that his relationship with his father had moved out of hostility and approaching that could be described as familial affection. The pleasure of that almost made a sizeable dent in his hangover as the day progressed.

Vin Tanner was in similarly good spirits, mostly because Alex was on the mend and also because the arrival of the army in the locality indicated that Nettie was no longer in danger from anyone who might attempt to recover the nitro. Although the tracker had not been pleased to hide the volatile shipment at the lady’s home after what had happened to Alex when Bellison had come to claim it, Chris had impressed upon him that they had very little choice in the matter. If Bellison knew enough about Chris to track them down at the ranch then it might be conceivable that he would have the same information about Buck as well and perhaps all of them. Nettie had no real connection to them other than friendship and would have been the last place that Bellison would look.

"So things okay with you and your pa?" Vin asked as they took the familiar turn of road that led to Nettie’s property. Peso was so accustomed to travelling down this path that the horse needed no directions from its master and trotted along on its own, requiring very little incentive from Vin.

"Getting there." Chris replied not minding discussing the subject with Vin. With Buck it was harder, because the man was full of good advice and but lacked tolerance for hesitation. Buck ran on nothing but passion and while it was admirable to be around a person like that, it could be damn annoying when Buck Wilmington felt people were bottling emotions that ought to be expressed and would not relent until they did. With Vin, it was different. Mostly because Vin knew Chris better than most people with the exception of Mary and probably even better than Buck. Vin understood what it was like to feel the need to keep one’s feelings private and when he felt the inclination to intercede, also knew when was the best time to pull back when his inquiries became too much for Chris to handle. Buck did not know how to do that and had been the cause of more arguments between them than anything else in their longstanding friendship.

"Mary invited him to dinner last night." Chris revealed.

Vin showed no reaction but flinched inwardly, glad that he had been absent at that meeting. He doubted that Chris would have seen the gesture by his wife as anything but meddlesome. "How did it go?"

"Not well." Chris said uncomfortably and thought secretly, that was probably an understatement of how things had gone. "I slept in the spare room last night." He did not look at Vin as he said that and Vin had enough sense not to make comment because the tracker wanted see his next birthday.

"I guess I’m apologising tonight." He finally broke the awkward silence that lingered after his last statement.

"I’ve done that." Vin admitted with a wry smile. "Well slept in my wagon anyway. I almost did again with this whole wedding business." An involuntary frown crossed his face when he thought about that whole episode with Alex and how badly things had gone because he allowed paranoia to get the better of him.

"You given any thoughts to what you gonna do about that?" Chris asked, feeling glad that he was not the only one embroiled with personal difficulties and was more than happy to shift the attention back to Vin’s forthcoming nuptials or lack of for that matter.

"I don’t know," Vin groaned, visibly frustrated by the whole subject. "She says she doesn’t want a big fuss and I know I sure as hell don’t want one and then again, I keeping thinking about what Buck said and…"

"Just don’t take too much Buck has to say to heart," Chris warned. "We are talking about a man who married his wife when she was in labour."

"I suppose," Vin chuckled, remembering the whole incident well. It was still subject of much amusement between the seven whenever Buck was absent. It ranked right up there with the time Ezra had to dress up as a lady singer in Wickestown and when Josiah had come charging to the rescue of his lady fair at Guy Royal’s spread, drunk as a coot. "I keep thinking about what she ought to have instead of what she says she wants. I wonder whether she says she doesn’t want no fuss because she knows I’d hate it."

"Well I tell ya Vin," Chris said with a sigh, for once glad for the benefit of experience because he was able to offer some advice in this regard, scant as it was. Despite generalisations by Buck, no woman was ever the same as another, just as men were individually different. "Alex is pretty sure about things and if she says she wants a small wedding, I’d listen to her."

"I want to just want to find a preacher somewhere and do it quiet you know?" The tracker sighed, having no real problem with marrying the love of his life but not at all looking forward to all the ceremony that came with it. Ezra’s talk about suits and place card, not to mention Buck’s pearls of wisdom about him having to be on display had stolen all the enjoyment out of what should have been an experience he had been looking forward.

"I know," Chris understood completely, having wished for something with a little less fanfare himself, when he and Mary had tied the knot. Fortunately, Alex was not as public a figure as Mary was in Four Corners and so she was under less pressure to invite the entire town to her wedding. Besides, Chris had a good sense of Alexandra Styles and believed that she wanted an understated ceremony as much as Vin although the female in her would not sit still for an elopement, no matter how much Vin might wish otherwise. There were something about the gender that could not be denied, a wedding ceremony was one of those.

"Think of it this way," the gunslinger said with devious smile. "You only gotta do it once."

"Thanks pard," Vin frowned as they caught sight of Nettie’s house in the distance. "You’re a real help."

**********

Instead of heading towards the house, Chris and Vin motioned Cleary and his men to follow them off the main track through the trees. They continued through a rough patch between the trees that made up the untamed terrain that surrounded the property. While Bellison might not suspect Nettie’s being a possible place of refuge for the nitro, Chris did not want to take any chances. Placing the nitro a suitable distance away from the homestead would ensure that even if Bellison did discover its location, Nettie would be far enough away from the site when they came to retrieve it.

While Nettie’s property was quite sizeable, she did not have the money or resources to exploit the land and thus pastoral farming was confined to the small plot in the immediate vicinity of the homestead. Vin actually preferred the rugged terrain remaining as it was because there was a beauty to it that he and Alex had often enjoyed whenever they came riding out this way some nights. So many of the pivotal moments in their relationship had taken place at Nettie’s. The first time his hands had touched hers and she had looked into his eyes and realised that there was more to her feelings for him than she had possibly known. Even though Vin and Alex spent most of their time at the ranch these days, they still liked to ride up to the creek and enjoy the space where their love had built its foundations.

It did not take them long to reach the small campsite that Buck and the other had set up while guarding the nitro that was hidden behind several large bales of hay and thick sheets of canvas. From a distance, it appeared as if the paddock where the wagons had been left were empty except for the stacks of feed covered with canvas to protect it from the elements. Only upon closer observation would anyone discover that they were far from being anything so benign.

As usual, JD was taking his duties very seriously, perched up on the top of a stacked pile of baled hay, shotgun cradled in his arms as his youthful face tensed with concentration. Obviously, the young man had appointed himself lookout and was keeping a firm eye on the terrain while his older peers sat in close proximity to the nitro, confident that JD would alert them if trouble arose. Actually JD would alert them even if there was absolutely nothing taking place and he was simply bored which was really the reason why he was not often selected to take up position as lookout. Nevertheless the nature of the terrain made the designation of a lookout rather redundant since they could all see well in advance if anyone was approaching.

While Markham assumed command of the platoon and its lieutenant, a state of affairs to which Chris was quite grateful since Markham at least seemed to have a great deal more intelligence than Cleary did, Vin and Chris greeted their comrades and appraised them of what was happening. All three men looked as exhausted as they probably felt and Chris was pleased to be able to tell his friends that it was finally safe enough to leave the nitro in the hands of the proper authorities now that they had arrived.

"So what now, Chris?" JD asked, aware that the gunslinger wanted to go after Bellison and the infamous Captain Julius, now that they no longer had to worry about keeping the nitro guard.

"We get some rest," Chris said firmly. "Ezra’s gone to Purgatory to snoop around a little. He ought to be back tomorrow, until then there ain’t a lot we can do. We’ve been working around the clock since this began and we need to rest up in case Bellison and his men decide to throw anything else at us." Instinctively, he glanced over his shoulder at the soldiers who were scattering across the area, setting up camp and felt a shudder of concern he could not explain. Markham seemed capable enough to take care of things but Chris could not help feeling apprehensive. Shaking off the feeling a minute later because he knew he hated just turning things over to someone else besides the men who rode with him, Chris knew the army could handle things on their own.

"When are they moving the nitro?" Josiah inquired, catching the sliver of uneasiness that had surfaced momentarily in Chris’ eyes.

"Tomorrow. According to the general." Vin answered as Chris lapsed into thought for a moment. "They’ll be taking it to Sweet Water and getting it away from there by train."

"I hope they have better luck hanging on to it this time." Nathan retorted, unashamed to admit that he felt it the height of incompetence that such a dangerous cargo could have been stolen right from under the military’s nose, not to mention how many lives were lost in the process.

"I think they’ve learnt well enough." The preacher remarked.

"I’m not so sure." Chris found himself admitting. "If there’s one thing I remember about the army is memory lasts as long as the next commander."

"Maybe we ought to keep an eye on things." JD added. "I mean, like you said it is a lot of nitro to lose."

Chris considered that already and knew that the two officers on the field with them were tolerating his presence at the barest fraction of civil. If he were to start inferring that they were not up to doing their jobs, it could deepen the animosity already felt into boiling point and Chris had enough troubles at the moment without having to deal with the slighted egos of union officers. Besides, not even Bellison and his men was fool enough to hit a platoon of soldiers who were expecting trouble with what they were guarding.

"No," Chris shook his head and hoped he was doing the right thing. "This is their show, let them handle it. We got bigger fish to fry."

**********

Despite the anonymity of their present location, Markham was still uncomfortable about the nitro being out in the open as it was. The members of the Citadel, a designation that no one in intelligence liked using because giving this enemy a name would only make the threat they posed all the more real, were one of the most dangerous militant groups to emerge in recent times. Unlike the Ku Klux Klan whose membership was mostly limited to the south and was splintered and disorganised, prolific only in the acts of violence committed against the coloureds, the Citadel was a very different kettle of fish entirely.

Originally a peaceful movement, Hannibal Julius had entered the picture and made the Citadel something more by inciting the belief among the membership that change for the betterment of all man kind could only be done through violence. The Civil War seemed a case in point, considering how the war had brought about the emancipation of slaves. With no knowledge of his past, the members of Citadel, those who had opted to remain in light of this sudden shift in policy, looked upon the former Union Captain as a visionary whose quest for equality made him the kind of leader worth dying for. Until now, Markham and Larabee had been watching Julius moved his pieces into place, preparing for a first strike that would leave an indelible impression upon all that the Citadel had arrived.

In what form that impression would take was the biggest wild card in this whole scenario even though the ingredients of so much nitro was cause for a great deal of concern. Markham wondered if Chris Larabee had any idea of just what kind of membership the Citadel now spanned. It was not a matter of a few dozen men here and there, but cells across the country. The fear that Larabee had not spoken to his son was that even if they did manage to get his hands on Julius, the legacy he had created would not die. In fact, killing him might be the very worst thing they could do for it would only turn him into a martyr and give impetus for a thousand acts of violent retribution.

Markham gazed up at the sky above and saw the stars out in full force. It was not lost upon him the beauty of this land and how the sky seemed so much brighter when not having to compete with the lights of a big city. He stared a moment at the wide expanse of stars before the aroma of the evening meal captured his attention and forced him to his feet in search of it. Although there were reconnaissance patrols and sentries on guard, it did not appear as if the Citadel was going to make a move tonight. He supposed Julius had improved on military tactics considerably since he was Chris Larabee’s commanding officer but detracting from making foolish attacks like a frontal assault.

"What’s cooking?" Markham asked as he reached the cook at the far end of the camp. Around him, there were a few others lingering about awaiting for the evening meal. Even though it was summer, the temperatures dropped drastically at night and had most of the men burrowing deep into their coats, trying to escape the cold while waiting in expectation of hot food.

"Just some stew." The grizzled sergeant replied as he continued stirring the contents of the cauldron suspended over the fire. "But there’s lot of it and it’s hot."

Which met the army standard for being edible, Markham thought and decided after nearly twenty years as a military man, his stomach had no sense of taste left and could endure anything. "Good enough for me." He remarked and walked away, not knowing the man well enough to continue the conversation.

A private caught his eye and the man shifted uncomfortably before slinking into the shadows to avoid making any eye contact. Markham frowned, hating the awkwardness of rank at times. He supposed he had become accustomed the last few days to being regarded like a human being by the men who rode with Chris Larabee that it took adjustment to be looked upon as a colonel once more. He saw Lieutenant Cleary sitting amidst his men, pouring himself a cup of coffee and decided he would not mind a cup himself. Approaching them the lieutenant, Cleary started to rise to attention, as did the rest of the group with him before Markham gestured for them to remain at ease.

"Just want a cup of Joe." Markham replied and immediately prompted someone into pouring some of the beverage into a tin mug before handing it to him.

"How long have you been here, Colonel?" Cleary asked in what appeared to be an attempt at conversation rather than any real interest to find out.

"About two days," Markham responded, savouring the feel of hot coffee in his mouth. "We rode in straight after we got Larabee’s telegram."

"You mean the general?" Cleary looked at him.

"No his son." Markham answered and immediately saw a dark look eclipsing the young lieutenant’s face.

"I see." Lieutenant Cleary nodded taking a sip of coffee in a clumsy attempt to avoid talking about that particular subject. By this time, dinner was more or less ready and soldiers were gathering with their army supplied steel dinner plates, to line up for food. As bodies drifted off to get in line the two commanding officers remained where they were for the moment. There was no need to rush because as the cook had declared earlier, there was plenty of food and no need to jockey for position in fears of missing a serving.

"He’s not so bad." The colonel said with a smile. Although he had not liked Chris Larabee either upon first meeting, it became very clear that much of the steel that made the father the man Markham respected was also present in the son. "I have found the junior Larabee to be no fool."

"He is a civilian." Cleary remarked.

"That he is but he was a Captain in the war." Markham pointed out and drew surprise from Cleary who could hardly imagine the savage looking man that was Chris Larabee had once worn the uniform of a Union captain.

"I don’t believe it. He hardly looks like the type to be a soldier." Cleary remarked as the cook made a brief appearance and served them each a plate of food. After thanking the grizzled looking sergeant, both men took a moment to partake of the savoury stew before resuming their conversation. Around them, the chatter around the camp had become silent in favour of cutlery clattering against metal plates as the soldiers dined.

"Wars change men in ways that are hard to define." Markham replied and knew that it was true. A man being shot in the back had much reason for his perspective to alter, as certainly Chris Larabee’s had been when Julius had attempted to murder him.

Cleary nodded for a moment and did not speak, appearing to ruminate on the colonel’s words while continuing to eat. Both officers said nothing for a moment, taking a few minutes to clean their plate because the day had been long and it was hungry. The food was not exactly the quality a gourmand who demand but it was tasty and very soon. He had set down his place and let his gaze travel around the camp momentarily, spying all the soldiers who were engaged in similar culinary pursuits until his eye rested on the private he had seen earlier. The man was not eating but watching everyone. For a moment, Markham wondered why wasn’t he hungry and noted the way he observed the others. Curiosity got the better of him and he leaned over to the lieutenant. "Cleary, who is that private over there? Seems kind of solitary."

"Which man?" Cleary asked as he leaned over to get a better look at whom the colonel required him to identify. It was hard to get into position because his stomach was burning with pain and he was starting to feel a little jittery. He glanced momentarily at his plate and thought that something must have disagreed with him. Perhaps, too much pepper. In either case, he ignored the sensation and turned his attention to Markham’s question.

"That one there." Markham pointed him out.

Cleary eyes searched the faces and quickly saw the man Markham wanted him to find which was easy enough to do because he knew every man in his platoon and the man that Markham had pointed to was not someone he recognised. With a start, Cleary stood up at the realisation that had never seen the man before and was certain did not belong at any time to his platoon. His abrupt rise created fresh pain in his abdomen and for a moment he thought he had a severe case of indigestion when he realised that Markham was no longer interested in his answer. The colonel was gasping in pain, trying hard to breathe as he clutched his chest.

Cleary started to feel the same constriction in his chest at the same time he heard someone crying out and then someone else, until cacophony of voices that resonated through the thickening fog of pain drowned out his ability to distinguish one from the other. The young man tried desperately to cling to his senses as he felt his voice dissolve in his throat as the cords became emersed in bile and fear. He saw the men he had rode with, with whom he had commanded and whose very lives were his to protect and guide, choking in pain as they dropped to their knees and did a different dance each but moving to the same rhythm of death.

The astonishment of what he was seeing centred his thoughts for the moment and he saw his entire platoon in the throes of the same malaise, struggling to breathe as if the air that was denied them was not just to their lungs. He felt the same tightening and he gasped louder more desperately as he tried to flood his body with the precious oxygen that was not penetrating some invisible net that seemed to have them all. His men were convulsing on the ground; some were clutching their stomachs in pain while others had already descended into a black place that beyond help of any kind. He watched with rising horror, intermingled with the knowledge that the swirling inside his mind and the depravation of breath was only the prelude to a condition that had no escape.

There was a final moment of lucidity when the fog cleared long enough for Cleary to sight the face that had begun the descent into hell for all his men. The face stared back at Cleary, perhaps realising throughout the chaos taking place around him that the play was finally reaching its last act. He seemed to smile then, pleased at the drama-reaching climax. Cleary understood then, with a clarity of mind that had been denied him most of his short life because of arrogance and short sightedness how doomed they had been the moment, they believed they were better and smarter than the enemy.

He tried to scream when the realisation finally breached the swirl of delirium that was his mind and when it came, he did not even know if the sound had escaped him was his at because all he could hear was that desperate screaming from so many others......

**********

Nettie Wells had heard the gunshots and when she had gone to investigate, decided that she was glad she had made Casey stay at the homestead and not be forced to witness what she had when she arrived at the site of the army encampment. She had lived a hard life and was certain by this juncture of it that there was very little that could shake her to the core. However, what she had seen in the aftermath of the violence at the camp was enough to eclipse all the experiences of the past and sear its grisly visage into memory forever.

She had no idea how much time had passed after the cessation of the gunfire she had heard and her arrival to allow the man responsible for the carnage to make good their escape. In truth, she was rather relieved that she had not been present at the time they had perpetrated their murderous work for men who would kill in this way were not people she ever wanted to meet. Nettie moved through the camp, almost dazed as she tried to search for signs of life. As she had expected there were none. Whomever had done this was extremely thorough, leaving no survivors. During the war, she had seen battles and the aftermath that followed and it struck close to home that what now lay at her feet was not so different.

She did not know how long she wandered through the camp but the time seemed to drag with every face she saw until finally, she could do nothing but pull herself away from it. Mounting her horse and leaving the terrible scene behind her, she rode home first because she knew the news of what had happened at the camp needed to reach the seven and Casey was a faster rider than she was. Her niece could traverse the distance between their property and Four Corners swiftly and for some reason, Nettie wanted Casey far from here until the soldiers could be properly attended to. There was some things that Nettie did not want Casey to see, no matter how grown up the girl confessed to being.

"What was it Aunt Nettie?" Casey asked, emerging onto the porch the moment she heard Nettie’s horse approaching home.

"You ain’t got time for me to answer any questions Casey," Nettie said quickly, wishing to avoid the subject all together. "You got to get riding to Four Corners, right away."

"Why?" Casey demanded, feeling her pulse quicken at the intensity of Nettie’s words. Something was terribly wrong and even though she wanted to know what that was, there was something in Nettie’s manner that indicated it would not be a good idea to ask.

"Casey." Nettie gave her a look and confirmed her suspicion. "I want you to get riding to Four Corners right away and find Chris. Tell him something bad has happened to the soldiers and that he needs to come right away."

"What’s happened?" Casey tried again, feeling apprehensive because there was something in Nettie’s eyes that told her that there was more to it and that it might just be too awful to imagine.

"Now Casey." Nettie said sharply. "Get going now."

The young woman could only nod and hurried into her house to get dressed for the trip, understanding by Nettie’s tone alone that it was best that she did not know what had happened until Nettie was ready to tell her about it. With a matter of minutes, Casey was dressed in her riding clothes and had mounted her horse to make the journey to Four Corners.

*********

Chris was about to head home and make his apologies to Mary for their latest argument with every intention of ensuring that this was their last altercation on the matter when Casey Wells rode into the town like a bat out hell. With dark hair trailing behind her as she pushed her mare to its limits, the girl looked like a harbinger of doom. It did not take her long to bring news to him that something terrible had taken place at Nettie’s and that she had been sent to town to fetch him and the others. Judging by the way that Nettie had been closed mouth about disclosing anything in the presence of Casey; Chris had to believe that it must have been bad.

Fortunately, with the exception of Ezra who would not be expected to return until the next day, the rest of the seven were in town, having congregated there after taking care of business in their respective private lives. While Chris had not seen Mary since his wife had spent most of the day running errands, he did take some time to explain to Billy that things between his ma and Chris were not all as bad as it they had appeared the night before. While Chris was more of a father to Billy than anything else these days, he had remembered how fearful the boy had been at the change in status quo when Chris had married his mother. Taking Billy aside and explaining things to him like they were still friends not father and son had gone a long way to forging the bonds that made the later possible.

Deciding that the presence of the general was probably a good idea as well, Chris fetched his father from his hotel and within the hour of Casey’s arrival in town, they were all riding towards Nettie Well’s property. Chris had ordered Casey to stay at Alexandra Styles’ home until they had discerned what exactly was the nature of the crisis that had been reason for their summons to Nettie’s. However, as they rode out towards the Wells’ property, Chris knew that there was no reason that Nettie would summon them like this unless the situation was critical.

The mood was tense as they rode to Nettie’s with conversation being short and clipped in anticipation of what they would find when they arrived at the army encampment. It was well into night when they finally reached the parcel of land they had left a few hours ago in the hands of Markham and his men. The most noticeable thing that captured their attention upon returning to this site was the silence. When they had departed earlier, there were all the sounds associated with life, lively chatters, orders being thrown about not to mention the preparations for the setting up of camp. Now there was nothing but audible silence. The only thing that was alive in area were themselves and the chirping of crickets in the dark.

The campfire had burned itself out by this point and as they lit fires in order to see, the discovery that came upon that illumination was not necessarily one that any of them would have liked. As the light from the fire spread out over the area, Chris heard the breaths of just about every one of his friends catch in their throats. For himself, he felt his stomach tightening in nothing less than disgust at what was before him. For a moment, the enormity of it did not register on him or any of them for that matter, but once they saw the horror in all its scope, could well appreciate why Nettie had sent Casey for them so quickly.

Bodies.

As far as the eye could see, throughout the entire length and breath of the camp, there were bodies littering the ground as if this had been the site of a great battle where all the combatants who fought had died without a drop of blood being spilt. Of course, later on when they shifted through the corpses, they would find one or two soldiers that had been killed by bullets not the poison that had been fed to their comrades. The scene before the new arrivals was nothing less than horrific as they took in the sight of bodies growing cold rapidly in the twilight. For the longest time no one could speak. Not even Chris Larabee who thought that he had seen the very worst of what the night had to offer could find words to describe what was before them.

"Oh my god." Someone finally managed to squeeze sound out of their throat and Chris thought it might have come from Josiah.

The silence broken had made them all come to life and it was Nathan who was fastest to react because his mind was focussed not on the dead but on how many that might still be alive. With that impetus to compel him forward, the healer went to the man nearest to him and began examining the fallen body. Only when he rolled the person onto his back and Josiah had approached them both with a makeshift torch, did he discover it to be that of Lieutenant Cleary.

"What the hell did this?" Vin asked. The tracker’s voice was lower than normal and Chris could only shake his head mutely as he went to investigate the rest of the camp to see if this carnage had taken place was as complete as it appeared.

"Poison." Nathan spoke up after he had made a quick study of Cleary’s body below him.

"Poison?" Larabee tuned to him. The general’s eyes glimmered in the dark but only Chris knew how truly furious he was even though he did nothing to show his rage. It festered beneath the surface, revealing itself in the tightening of his jaw.

"Yeah," Nathan nodded and captured their undivided attention. "Looks like prussic acid." He answered after a moment, having learnt that much from the books he had been pouring over the past year in preparation for his medical exams. "It’s odourless and in food, you wouldn’t even know its there but you can tell by the colour of the tongue."

"Colour?" Buck asked quietly as he kept a close eye on JD who had never seen death on this scale and was turning a different shade himself. The boy was doing everything he could not to get sick but he was fighting a losing battle.

"His tongue is blue." The healer turned away and went to another patient, hoping against hope that he would find someone alive even though logic dictated that this was impossible now. If it was prussic acid that did this then it was highly unlikely that any survivors would be found. "Prussic acid does this. It keeps oxygen from getting to the lungs and body."

"You mean these men suffocated on dry land." Larabee replied coldly. His voice was like glass and it cut through each man present.

"This is sick....." JD started to say, his breathing increasing as he saw these bodies around him and could not imagine how anyone could do this. "A man has a right to see his killer." The boy answered, his throat becoming drier and drier with each second that passed. He could feel sweat forming under his hair and his skin heating up with anger and raw disgust the likes of which he had never known. "There’s gotta be some kind of honour to fighting, not this!"

"JD." Buck was on him in a second, trying to settle him down. "Calm down!"

"I can’ calm down!" JD shouted. "There’s gotta be someone alive!"

Suddenly, the general was suddenly in front of him and Larabee took JD’s face in his hands and said very calmly with that voice which had the power to make even Chris Larabee feel safe. "Look at me." He ordered and JD found himself unable to do anything but stare into those eyes turned obsidian in the dark. "Every fight has its dead, those are the rules. We don’t like it but that’s the way it is. You need to calm down because I need every man here focussed if we’re gonna get the sons of bitches who did this and trust me, we are going to get them. Even if we chase them to hell and back, they are going to answer for this. Understand? Now shut it off. Put it some place inside your mind and closed the door."

JD shuddered and tried not to look at the bodies around him and knew the older man was right. He could not think about it or else he would be no good to anyone.

"Listen to the man JD," Buck said quietly, not entirely sure whether or not that was the tactic he would have used but unable to deny that the effects were exactly what JD needed at this moment.

"When you feel it creeping out at you," the general continued to say in the same voice, cold as ice and yet the sharp splinter through black they needed to centre their horror upon which to give them strength in this darkest of hours. "Just don’t look and try to keep that door inside your head shut. Keep slamming that door until it stays close."

JD nodded slowly, his head still in the man’s hands and let out a deep breath. "Shut the door." He swallowed and the general released him. Closing his eyes, he tried very hard to do what the man had asked and kept reminding himself that he had to be strong because the general needed him to be that way.

"You okay JD?" Buck asked, wrapping an arm around him just to show him that he was not alone.

"I’m fine Buck." JD smiled nervously, trying not to look too closely at anything.

The big man tipped his hat towards the general in a gesture of gratitude which Larabee acknowledge with a slight bow of his head before returning to his son and his very able second. Chris had gone to the far side of the camp, their presence marked by the torch they were carrying. However, its illumination had so far revealed nothing but menace and the stakes for how much further things could deteriorated seemed to need redefining with each new discovery. God only knows what Vin would find as he scouted the area. The tracker who was better at seeing in the dark had no need of light and Chris knew that if there were answers to be found, only Vin could manage it.

"Is it gone?" Larabee asked, not even needing an answer really because this kind of massacre could have only one purpose.

"All of it." Chris sighed as he viewed the empty place where the nitro had been. "As sick as this is, its Julius’ style."

"A man who shoots another in the back will not have trouble poisoning him either." Larabee frowned, letting his gaze sweep across the bales of hay that were scattered across the area after the enemy had found their precious cargo. "Kid was right," he said icily. "There ought to be some honour to how men fight and the one who would do this needs putting down, quickly."

"We’ll oblige him that." Chris answered meeting his father’s gaze as Nathan came to join them. Behind them, Josiah and Buck were starting to gather bodies and it was a task they would all soon have to partake because it was wrong to leave the dead just lying on the earth waiting to be claimed by buzzards or any nocturnal predator.

"Not all of them were poisoned." Nathan answered. "Looks to me they all went at pretty much the same time. Someone poisoned the food they were eating for supper. Some didn’t eat of course and looks as if they were shot."

"Jesus." Chris whispered, unable to imagine the callousness of it all and yet knowing he had to deal with it because its evidence was undeniable.

"It’s all of them?" Larabee inquired.

"Yes Sir," Nathan nodded and then added reluctantly. "Including Markham."

Larabee looked up at him sharply as the news impacted off him and then faded away a moment later. "He was good man." The general said quietly, his gaze dropping to his feet as he thought about the friend who had been at his side for more years than he cared to remember. "Markham was in intelligence for years, he was best undercover man I knew." Larabee replied neutrally, no signs of remorse in his voice as he spoke about a friend who might just reappear instead of lying in the dirt dead and gone forever. "Twenty years out there and he gets killed by poison at supper."

"I’m sorry Sir." Chris offered, aware that his father was feeling a great deal of sorrow at Markham’s death.

"Same thing that goes for the boy, goes for me too." The general cleared his throat and looked up at him. "It needs to be put away some place dark for the time being."

"Chris." Vin made his appearance out of the shadows a few seconds later. The tracker’s expression was even stonier than usual although Chris could hardly blame him for his grim disposition considering what lay before them. "I found two bodies a ways from here. Their clothes were stripped. I think they’re from the platoon."

"That’s how they got in." Chris nodded, unsurprised by this news at all. "Probably took out a recon patrol that was sweeping the area and stole their uniforms."

"Yeah," Vin nodded. "I found tracks even further out than that. I don’t think they belonged to your men general."

"Let me guess, they lead from another way in here?" Larabee asked, guessing what had taken place once the revelation of stolen uniforms had been made.

"It’s a tougher route but good riders can make it with the help of an experience man with the land." Vin answered.

"Bellison." Chris muttered softly. Bellison was a tracker like Vin and if there was a way to approach without being seen, Bellison would have found it.

"There were a lot of them." The tracker continued for the benefit of those waiting to hear his findings. "I figured they waited while the two who grabbed uniforms, came into camp and did what they had to until the poison took effect. Once these army boys were dead or dying, they came in and killed anyone who wasn’t poisoned and then took the nitro."

"Shit!" Chris swore unable to believe that he had walked away from this place allowing that kid to be in charge who not only got himself and the men under his command killed but also lost the entire shipment of nitro that was most likely to kill even more people. "I knew we should have kept an eye on this ourselves."

Larabee stiffened and turned to him. "Then you would be dead too and the nitro would still be gone."

His father was right but knowing did not change things. The nitro was gone and they were no closer to finding Bellison and his men then they were when this all started. Chris wondered if things could get any worse.

**********

Mary glanced outside the window once again, wondering why she was doing that when it was quite obvious that Chris would not be home for awhile. After hearing from Casey that Nettie had summoned the lawmen to her property, Mary assumed that some crisis had occurred that required their immediate attention since they could be no other reason why Nettie would make such a request. The widow was not prone to exaggeration and Mary tried not to worry about Chris and what danger might be waiting for him. Billy had gone to bed already and Mary knew she ought to be doing the same but she could never could sleep well when Chris was out there somewhere, facing who knew what kind of danger.

She found herself in the parlour, curling up with a book she had read a hundred times before. However, she often felt comforted by its words in times of crisis and thus she continued to read it over and over again, this time doing so while nursing a cup of hot chocolate. She was in the midst of a sip when suddenly, the door knocked. Instinctively, she glanced at the clock wondering who it could be at this hour and hoped it was not some emergency that required Chris’ attention because she would not be able to accommodate the late night caller if it were.

Setting aside the cup on the nearby side table, she tightened the chord around her robe as she proceeded to the back porch where most visitors to the Larabee household tended to use when they came calling for purposed not related to the Clarion. She did not recognise the shape through the glass but that did not mean anything because the darkness outside made it difficult to see.

Upon reaching it, she pulled open the door and found herself staring into the barrel of a gun. The man who stood before her was no one she knew but the menace she saw in his face was unmistakable and telling of his intentions. Giving her little or no time at all to react, he jammed the gun into her belly and said with a perfectly calm voice.

"Good evening Mrs Larabee," he smiled. "Permit me to introduce myself, I am Mr Bellison."

TO BE CONTINUED