There were moments when she wondered at what exact point he came to mean so much to her. She was an old woman with only a niece to care for, and Casey was more than a handful at times, even more so now the impetuous tomboy was evolving into a young woman. There was no need to feel so warmly towards a former bounty hunter with a price on his head and eyes older than his years. Yet Vin Tanner had become a part of her world, ever since he and his friends came riding to her rescue almost a year ago.
Thanks to the seven, the land her husband died taming was still hers and not the property of a greedy land baron waiting for the inevitable arrival of the railroad.
Nettie saw in Vin's eyes the need to know what it was to have a mother's love. His own had died when he was too young, and Nettie knew she reminded Vin of the woman who bore him, from the fragmentary memories of his childhood. Since their first meeting, he often rode to see her, sometimes staying for supper and ensuring he was available for whatever chores she was unable to do herself.
During those times, she got to know him because of the intuition that came only with age and experience. People found him quiet while Nettie found him shy. Too much time alone made it difficult for Vin to relate to people, and it was only now, he was starting to emerge from his shell and recognise the need for human contact.
She had not seen him for a month and was more than surprised when he turned up with Nathan, Ezra and the new doctor whose arrival Nettie was aware of but had yet to meet in person. As Casey helped Nathan and Vin settle the injured Ezra Standish in one of the guestrooms, the doctor asked for a place to wash away the blood on her hands and clothes.
The young woman was polite and refined, extraordinarily beautiful in a way capable of making men go wild with desire should she choose to use her looks for that purpose. Judging by how she conducted herself, practical and compassionate, Nettie guessed she did not. Once she cleaned up, she disappeared outside, citing the need for fresh air.
Vin emerged shortly after she left the house, explaining to Nettie Nathan would keep an eye on Ezra until the others arrived. Nettie sent Casey to bed, aware the young woman would only fidget until JD came and Nettie would just get tired of watching her.
After supplying Nathan with a cup of hot coffee, Nettie joined Vin at the kitchen table. She noticed something different about him almost immediately. There was an unusual edge to his manner, a surliness never before present. She could not understand what caused it until he spoke.
"Where did she go?" Vin inquired gruffly as Nettie poured him a cup of coffee.
"Out for some air."
Nettie caught the spark of blue fire in his eyes. The reaction was slight, but it was telling. Nettie doubted anyone but she or maybe Chris Larabee might have seen the intensity of it. Then again, Chris was also a man, and they often missed the obvious things women saw as plain as day.
"I reckon she needs it." He shrugged, appearing indifferent as he stared into the black depths of his coffee cup, his expression reflective. "She saved Ezra's life."
Nettie watched his face, and the truth was so close to the surface, it was astonishing no one else saw it. "She's beautiful."
"I suppose." He gulped down a mouthful of coffee, refusing to examine the comment too carefully.
He was detached, even for Vin and Nettie eased back into her chair, watching him as she finally asked the question on the tip of her tongue. "How long has this been going on Vin?"
Vin looked up at Nettie, not understanding at first. "What?"
"How long have you been feeling this way about her?"
Vin's eyes widened at the declaration and the expression on his face was like that of a child who had been caught doing something wrong. The cup in his hand lowered so suddenly, it banged against the table with enough force to slosh hot liquid against the wood.
"I don't feel anything about Alex," he insisted but glanced at the door of the room Ezra was presently occupying to make sure no one else heard Nettie's extraordinary statement.
Nettie could see her question rattled him because Vin probably assumed he had hidden his emotions well beneath his usual stoic manner. Except for Nettie, that is. The old woman had always been able to read the boy clearly, and right now, his feelings were an open book. Knowing Vin however, he would keep it bottled up inside and never do anything about it until it twisted him into a thousand knots.
"It's the first time I've ever heard you call a woman by her first name."
"That's what she tells everyone to call her. Call me Alex, she says." Vin returned defensively, and even as he said it, he could not hold back a little smile at that particular quirk of Alexandra Styles. Catching the stare Nettie was giving him, Vin hated it that she could see through him so clearly. He valued his privacy, even from her.
"She doesn't belong to me." He stated so Nettie would understand why this was so hard for him. "She's Ezra's."
Men , Nettie almost shook her head in exasperation. "Maybe you should check with her first."
The suggestion registered on Vin's face as utter panic. The idea of exposing his emotions to anyone was frankly terrifying, and Vin was not about to entertain it in any shape or form. He knew from his past when he fell for someone, he fell hard . Perhaps it was never experiencing the whole ritual of courtship one was supposed to go through like a baptism of fire, that made him so ill-prepared to deal with women.
When he met Charlotte, he lost himself so deeply, he never considered restraint might have been necessary. Realising what he had done, he sent her back to her husband with the ripped shreds of his heart. Vin suffered in silence, refusing to let anyone know just how much it hurt because men who knew how to handle their dalliances without it cutting them to pieces surrounded him. Afterwards, Vin swore he'd never find himself in such a position again.
Until this beautiful woman with her golden skin stepped off the coach and Vin found himself completely and utterly lost.
Naturally, his luck being what it was, Ezra got there first, and now it was too late. Alex chose Ezra, and as much as it twisted his gut every time he saw them together, he wished the gambler his best even though he was also angry at the unfairness of it. Angry because when he and Alex were in each other's company, he could feel the connection between them and because it would destroy his friendship with Ezra if the man ever learned about Vin's infatuation.
"It doesn't matter. Nothing is ever going to happen." Vin started, placing particular emphasis on the word 'ever'. Getting to his feet, he headed towards the door, needing to leave this room and this conversation.
"You may regret it." Nettie pointed out as Vin twisted the door handle to leave.
"I already do."
*****The relief at having not killed Ezra escaped Alex in a flood of tears.
When Alex climbed unto the buckboard, she heard the helplessness in Nathan's voice because they both knew how perilous a skull injury could be. The healer's lack of experience in this type of surgery for all his knowledge weighed heavily on him. During the ride to Nettie Wells's property, Alex maintained her calm, projecting confidence because Nathan needed to believe she could do it and to a degree, so did she.
What Alex did not reveal was her own terror at performing such a procedure. This wasn't like pulling bullets out of a lung or sewing up tissue, this was possibly the most complicated surgery a fully qualified doctor could be called on to perform. Alex didn't have the heart to tell him, she had never carried out the trepanning procedure before tonight. No one at medical school dared to allow a woman to participate in an operation so serious and their prejudice relegated her to the role of observer.
Beneath the dim glow of the lamp Nathan had been holding, Alex hid how utterly terrified she was throughout the surgery, performing every step in the procedure with a held breath, while her heart pounded in her chest.
Later on, staring at the basin of bloody water, the enormity of what she'd done impacted on her. Alex felt as if the air had drained out of the room because she couldn't breathe. Despite her success, she finally had time to process the knife's edge upon which she conducted the surgery and felt as if the walls of the small room were closing in on her. While the doctor in her recognised the sensation as being a particularly nasty case of panic, it was all Alex could do to keep from screaming.
She rushed out of the house after offering some vague excuse, desperate to be in the open, so she could breathe in the fresh air and be alone with her thoughts. Alex had no idea where she was going when she walked into the darkness, stopping only when she near the edge of the creek, a short distance from the house. Once there, she vented her bottled up emotions in soft, ragged sobs.
She could have killed him. Alex didn't delude herself into thinking Ezra was alive because of her skills, he was alive because she had gotten lucky. The conditions in which the surgery was conducted was horrific, and God only knew how she'd managed to perform it without costing Ezra his life. Worse yet, it wasn't the idea of harming Ezra that was so terrible, but the possibility that Alex could have killed a patient. She was a doctor, she lived by the oath to do no harm. If she had failed tonight, she would have done plenty.
Continuing to sob, because she needed to purge herself of these discordant emotions, Alex did not notice she was no longer alone.
"Alex?"
Alex winced at the intrusion of Vin Tanner in what was a wholly private moment. She needed solitude to rebuild her composure and was not in any condition to engage in another session of verbal sparring with him. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the top of the silhouette of his slouch hat as he approached through the bushes and decided she had no choice in the matter. Quickly wiping the tears from her face, she cleared her throat and tried to look somewhat composed before they faced each other.
"Yes?" She answered, sniffling one last time before he came into view.
After the conversation with Nettie, the last thing Vin wanted was to run into the source of his troubles. He took a walk to clear his head when he noticed the tracks she left behind in the dirt, leading away from the house. Considering the danger they were facing, it wasn't wise for her to be wandering about alone. Against his will, Vin followed the trail of broken branches and crushed twigs leading to her. It was only when he neared the creek, did he stop in mid-stride and became rooted to the spot at the sound of her tears.
Vin was incapable of ignoring a weeping woman, especially when it was Alex, and felt compelled to investigate even though he knew nothing good would come of it. Common sense told him he ought to leave her be, but he couldn't help it. Speaking with Nettie exposed the raw nerve he'd been trying so hard to ignore these past weeks, and now that it was out, Vin had no idea how to bury it again.
"You alright?" Vin saw her cheek glisten with the tears she hadn't managed to wipe away. The distress on her lovely features was plain, even if she was taking great pains to hide it. Vin took a step closer after a brief debate, wondering if he should provide her with a shoulder to cry on, and decided against it because it was courting peril. Still, he could not walk away from her when she clearly needed comforting.
"I'm fine." She spoke utterly oblivious to what was going on in his head.
"You don't look it."
"I'm just suffering a little post-surgery nerves," Alex lied, not wishing Vin to see just how shaken she was. After the night's exertions, she was just too weary to argue with him.
For reasons she could not explain, Alex did not want to appear weak before Vin Tanner. Perhaps it was because he was always so damn abrasive to her and made no effort to hide his dislike. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her so vulnerable. While she generally got along with most of the seven, her relationship with Vin was never friendly, it barely bordered on civil. With little or no provocation whatsoever, they seemed to get on each other's nerves. Alex could not understand the attrition, and she doubted Vin could either.
"You did fine." He took a step closer. Just one. "Ezra's alive 'cause of you."
Alex suddenly felt too exhausted to maintain this façade of strength and let out a weary sigh. "I could have killed him, Vin," she admitted, her voice breaking and the full torrent of her anxieties came spilling out for him to see. "If I had made one single mistake, I could have killed him."
Her confession surprised him and considering she operated on Ezra while they were on the run, on a buckboard, in the darkness no less, Vin thought she was a little hard on herself. Whatever
his feelings about her, her skill as a healer could not be faulted. Other than Nathan, the seven trusted no one else with their well being. If Ezra had fallen under the care of a sawbones, he would be dead by now. That she managed to keep him alive was a miracle in itself.
"But you didn't, you saved him. I reckon it wasn't easy cutting up someone you care about," he said quietly, and the jealousy remained on his tongue like a bitter aftertaste.
"That's just part of it," Alex shrugged, knowing her feelings for Ezra played only a small part in how she felt right now. "I've never done that kind of surgery before. I've seen it others do it, but like Nathan, I've never performed it myself."
Shocked to hear that, Vin admired Alex even more for it. It was a hell of a thing to do the first time around, in such difficult circumstances. "Why didn't you say something?"
The surprising sympathy in his voice prompted her to continue speaking. "Because it wouldn't have made any difference. Ezra needed the surgery, he would have died otherwise."
Turning away from him, she faced the creek, taking in the night air and the sound of owls and crickets trying to lay claim to the silence. "I know I sound like I know what I'm doing, but I really don't. I came out here to practice medicine because no hospital would hire a woman, especially one who isn't white. I have the degree, the training but not the experience. I'm just feeling my way around."
Facing him again, she showed him her trembling hands with a self-deprecating laugh. "Look at me, I can't even stop shaking."
Vin Tanner then did something very unexpected.
He took both her hands in his. Until that moment, Alex had not paid much attention to how close he was standing before her, but she knew it now. Her breath caught at the contact, and suddenly, she became aware of him in a way she hadn't before. Taken entirely by surprise, Alex was caught by the intensity of his cobalt coloured eyes and recalled thinking how nice they were when Alex first saw him. Now she could see nothing else as she took in his scent, a mixture of oilskin, soap and dust. His skin felt pleasantly warm in contrast with the fresh night air.
There was nothing but innocence in his touch as his fingers stroked her own gently, the way one would soothe a frightened animal, yet it made her stomach flutter and caused her heart to start beating fast like it just remembered how.
"That any better?" Vin asked quietly in that too-soft voice of his, holding Alex's surprised gaze in his.
"Yes," Alex replied, and her voice came out like a breathy whisper. Hearing it made her snatch her hands back, and a surge of heat rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment. Yet Alex continued to be caught in his blue eyes, like a moth who suddenly discovered the power of the flame. What was this? She knew how she felt about Ezra, but with Vin's hands over hers, those feelings seemed very distant.
For this moment, it was just her and Vin, no one else.
"We should get back to the house," he suggested, choosing to ignore her retreat because he could see the confusion in her eyes.
"Yes, you're right. I need to check how Nathan's doing," Alex babbled, snapping out of whatever it was that just transpired between them. "Let's do that."
Without saying another word, she brushed past him, heading towards the light of Nettie's hearth in the distance. Alex did not look back when she left Vin behind, wishing this sensation in her chest would go away because tonight, he had become a revelation.
*****Darien answered all their questions but one.
When the man from the future provided them with explanations about the machine trying to kill Chris, Buck was expecting to have his own questions answered. Specifically, why did they look so similar? Yet Darien avoided that particular explanation, and as they rode towards Nettie's place, he noted Mr Lambert seemed to be staying away.
During the ride, each one of them was preoccupied with silent thoughts of their own. Buck glanced at Chris and saw the man in black riding away from the main group, not even looking at Mary. Buck suspected Chris was coming to grips with the news he would be a father come spring. Even JD seemed at a loss for words and Buck could hardly blame him. Darien's story could challenge even the most open-minded, and JD was a kid who knew barely anything about the world except what he learned from books.
Finally, when Buck's patience could wait no more, he nudged his horse Beavis towards the man, determined to have his answers.
Darien was unsurprised by Buck's approach. The question hung between them like a pregnant drop of water poised to fall. He couldn't blame Buck for wanting answers even though Darien had his suspicions. From the moment, Darien met Buck Wilmington face to face, he understood it was not just a case of mistaken identities. The similarities between them were too exact to be a coincidence, and reluctantly, Darien realised the cause might be genetic.
Whoever his parents were, Darien had become comfortable with the knowledge they had not wanted him. The surrogate who bore him was also lost to him but what he had of her was more substantial than what he knew of the two people whose genetic stuff gave him life. Lambert was the name of the surrogate because Darien never knew where he'd come from. Over the years, he'd made peace with this because he knew who he was, and it was enough.
But now, seeing Buck Wilmington changed that. Just as John Connor was a direct descendant of Chris Larabee and Mary Travis, Darien Lambert suspected Buck and he might share the same lineage. With the Wilmington family line as a place to start, it became possible for Darien to trace the man's descendants to Darien's own origins. It was not lost on him that he might discover his own roots by this quest through time.
"It must be something." Buck Wilmington stated as he and his horse Beavis came alongside Darien.
"What?" Darien looked at him and felt another chill of uneasiness seeing his own eyes on Buck's face.
"Coming through time," Buck replied before facing the darkness in the plains beyond. The country was quiet at night except for the occasional howl of coyotes and the hooting of owls.
"Not really. Most of the time, it gives me a headache and a need to throw up."
"Kinda like a hard nights drinking," Buck said sympathetically, knowing how it felt after a hangover and decided he would never again complain it was only the drink that caused it.
"Do you have time to drink?" Darien smiled. "You must be popular with the ladies. I must have seen a dozen of them smiling at me on my way to the saloon."
Buck laughed and then returned with a grin of mischief. "It's my animal magnetism. Come on now, you can't tell me it ain't the same where you come from?"
"I'm not much of a ladies man," Darien admitted and realised with surprise it was mostly true. His travels had him zigzagging from one place to another, with little time to pause and make attachments. There were women here and there, but the longing for Elyssa hadn't quite faded away. "I've got too much work to do."
This clearly troubled Buck. "Man can never have that much work. Don't tell me there ain't vacations up there in the future."
"I lost someone a long time ago," Darien admitted, feeling slightly defensive that Buck's words were getting under his skin.
"I see." Buck nodded in understanding. He knew what that was like, but withdrawing away from everyone, and everything was no answer. After Sarah and Adam, Buck saw Chris drag himself into an abyss and remained there for so long he didn't believe Chris would ever escape its darkness, even with Mary in his life. Grief had a way of changing people so irrefutably it was impossible to remember what life was before it.
"Sorry, didn't mean to pry."
"It's okay," Darien replied, deciding the need to know was starting to affect him too. "Look, we both know our resemblance to each other is not just a coincidence. So let's just stop the pretext of getting friendly and find out for certain."
"What is it about me that scares the hell out of you?"
Darien looked at him sharply. "I'm not scared of anything."
"Yes, you are." Buck stared at him hard. "You're damn afraid of finding out we could be related. Why is that?"
"Look, you want to do it or not?" He snapped, hating it the man was absolutely correct. After years of wondering, he was still reeling from the fact the opportunity to know the truth was suddenly dropped into his lap, typically after he'd made peace with not knowing.
"How?"
"This," Darien reached into his coat and produced Selma. "Selma, can you do a DNA scan?"
"Yes, Captain," Selma answered automatically.
"Damn thing talks?" Buck jumped in his saddle, a little startled. "What is it?"
"Think of it as a library that talks." Darien's stomach was quickly twisting into knots at the possibility of what Selma would find.
Selma was cautious about speaking in Buck's presence. Darien's directive over the years was specific. He preferred her silence when in the company of others, for she was too difficult to explain. Unfortunately, in this time period, none of those rules applied.
"I shall need to make personal contact, Captain."
"Captain?" Buck inquired wanting to know everything about Darien Lambert. Even if Darien didn't want to admit it, Buck knew without hesitation, this carbon copy was family. He could not understand why the prospect was so daunting to this man of the future when he seemed so accepting of everything else.
"Captain of Earth Police," Darien answered before handing Selma to Buck. "You need to hold this."
Buck examined the tiny mainframe with visible curiosity, taking note of its smooth texture and the meaningless words scrawled against it. "Did you call it Selma?"
"Yeah, just makes it easier to talk to." He explained as best as he could without getting into the whole subject of user-friendly computer interface.
Buck nodded, not really understanding but felt a slight tingle in his finger. If he didn't know better, he'd say it was a sting, but it didn't quite hurt enough for that.
"I have completed the scan, Captain," Selma spoke much to Buck's delight. He put his ear close to it as if that would explain how he could hear it speaking. "The scan of mitochondrial DNA is a 100 percent match. You are a direct descendant of the subject Buck Wilmington."
Buck saw the colour evaporate from Darien's face even in the moonlight. Without another word, Darien dug his heels into the side of his mount and rode off into the darkness. Buck heard the hoofbeat come to a stop some distance ahead and knew Darien was keeping them in sight, even if he wished to be alone.
"Now, I ought to be insulted," Buck replied, still holding Selma in his hand.
"Do not take offence Mr Wilmington," Selma spoke up suddenly much to Buck's surprise.
"You can talk in real sentences?" Buck exclaimed in mild surprise, marvelling at the piece of twenty-second-century technology in his hands. He could understand what Darien meant when he stated that it was easier to speak to it. The calm, elegant, feminine voice was just the kind of interface that Buck Wilmington was most comfortable with.
"I can speak in real sentences in a dozen languages," Selma explained almost boasting.
"What's wrong with him?" Buck gestured in the direction Darien had gone and realised this thing had no eyes to see where he was pointing at. In truth, he felt a little silly talking to a piece of card and did not expect any satisfactory answer.
"The Captain is somewhat overwhelmed, I would imagine."
"By what? He must have known it was likely we were kin. Hell, after that story he told Chris, it made perfect sense to me."
"The Captain has no data regarding his birth parents, Mr Wilmington," Selma answered in defence of her human. "He never knew his parents."
"He's an orphan?" Buck exclaimed, starting to realise why this was so difficult for Darien Lambert.
"It is unknown whether his parents are dead or alive. They did not claim him after his birth, so he was listed as an orphan."
"Damn," Buck swore to himself realising what learning the truth meant to Darien. To Buck, it was little more than a curiosity, a preview of the future. It never occurred to Buck the matter would have far more profound implications for a man who travelled through time to save the lives of his nearest and dearest friends. "I guess he has a place to start looking now."
"That is affirmative. I can trace the genealogical records of your family tree until the twenty-second century. There is a high probability it will yield the name of his mother or father, from your side of the family, as it were."
"Really? You know who I'm going to marry?"
"Affirmative Mr Wilmington." Whether or not Buck knew it, his genetic match to Darien, allowed Selma to answer all his questions without restriction.
"Who?"
"According to the records, you will be married to an Inez Elena Recillos."
Buck straightened up on his horse and cast his eye at the sultry woman, sitting next to Mary on the wagon. A slow smile stole across his lips as he watched at the lovely Inez, offering comfort to her best friend. She noticed Buck looking her way and shook her head, once again giving him that look which told him she had no idea what to do with him. A future with Inez was something Buck would look forward to.
Eventually. There were still a lot of women around to get to know first…
"Want some advice?" Buck said, still staring into the night, trying to decide if he ought to approach Darien or not.
"I am subject to any useful information." She said, sounding somewhat annoyed he should even have the audacity to ask. Suddenly, the notion that machines could run themselves in the future did not seem so outlandish to Buck after all.
"I wouldn't tell Darien who his folks might be unless he asks."
"It is what he wishes to know." Selma pointed out, perplexed by the advice.
"Maybe he does, but not now. He ain't ready for it, and you'll do more harm than good by telling him too soon."
The voice was silent for a few seconds, and Buck guessed whatever it was that passed for Selma's brain was carefully considering his advice. "I concur with your assessment."
Still, Buck had a feeling he'd just opened the Pandora's Box on Darien Lambert's life.
*****By the time they arrived at Nettie's, it was well into the night, and the group was exhausted. Chris, in particular, was mindful about Mary's condition and wanted her to rest while he and Darien decided what they would do next. According to Darien, the mechanical hunter would now shift its attention to Mary. Although the thought had not occurred to her yet, Chris knew the fastest way to draw Mary out of any hiding place was to threaten young Billy Travis.
Which meant the Terminator would soon be on its way to Eagle Bend where Billy was in residence with Judge Orin Travis and his wife, Evie. There was no need to tell Mary about this yet because it was almost a full day's ride to Eagle Bend and somehow Darien did not believe the Terminator was going to be able to ride there. However, that would not stop the mechanical man from boarding a train at Bitter Creek and ride the locomotive straight into the small city.
Despite their shock, after what they saw of the mechanical monster in the saloon, Vin and Nathan took the explanation about the Terminator and the future rather well. However, for Alex and Nettie's benefit, Chris opted to fabricate a story about dangerous outlaws gunning for the seven as the reason for their swift exodus from Four Corners.
If anything, it was Darien who was hardest to explain and eventually, he was passed off as a member of Buck's family who'd come into town today. While Alex seemed dubious, Nettie accepted it, and Chris suspected even if she didn't believe their story, would not probe unnecessarily if it wasn't required.
In the meantime, Darien and JD had ridden out with a wagon to collect some equipment he brought with him from the future to combat the Terminator. Since their own guns were next to useless as proven during the gun battle in the saloon, Chris was appreciative of any edge they could get.
JD was eager to accompany the time traveller, and Chris guessed this was mostly due to Darien's similarity in nature and resemblance to Buck. However, he did notice some estrangement between Darien and Buck. Earlier on, he saw their exchange and Chris wondered what could have rattled Darien enough for the man to take flight.
Chris, on the other hand, found his thoughts focussed on the reality he would be a father again. Despite the current situation and the target Mary had become, Chris was thrilled by the idea. He thought of Adam as a baby and remembered how it felt to hold him for the first time. The memory of holding something so small and tiny that was Sarah and him was the sweetest feeling in the whole world. He wanted to share all that with Mary and more.
Chris looked out the front window of Nettie's porch and saw Mary alone outside. She was staring into the moonlight, trying to hide the anxiousness in her face. Men always thought motherhood was a completely natural thing to women, that they craved it and cared for nothing else once it was upon them. Once he'd become a father and a husband, Chris learned better and in Mary's case, the fear of her life was going to change so radically from after what she'd built these last few years, must seem especially paralysing.
He stepped out onto the porch and saw her staring into the night, eyes fixed on a point only she could see. Mary only noticed his presence when he came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. Breathing in the scent of her hair, she softened against him as her hands squeezed the arms around her.
"You haven't said anything." She said softly.
"Looks to me like there was nothing left to say. We're gonna have a baby."
She broke away from his grip then, not altogether gently. "I'm going to have a baby! You've done your part."
Chris stared at her in nothing less than astonishment. After everything they meant to each other, he could not fathom her making a statement like that. It was the fear talking, Chris told himself quickly. He underestimated how overwhelmed she was and cursed himself for not having it out sooner than this. Letting the matter lie had only allowed a thousand anxieties to fester in her brain, making her crazy.
"That ain't how it's going to be. You know better than that."
"I don't know anything." She replied and started to cry. He took a step forward, and she backed away instinctively. "All I know is, at this moment, I am more afraid of you than anything else."
"Me?" Chris exclaimed dumbfounded and reminded himself to calm down, or his attempt at being the voice of reason was going to get shot down in a blaze of glory. "We got a mechanical monster out there hunting the both of us down like a pair of dogs, and I'm the one you're afraid of?"
She wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. "Yes, you are."
Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself, uncertain if these fears were real or some hormonal response her body was having. She knew she had a tendency to be irrational at times like this.
"Do you know what it was like when Steven was gone? I knew nothing, not a damn thing. I had no idea how to balance the books, how to wrestle with Lucifer or anything! He let me work on the paper by writing for it, but everything else was his to run and rule. I loved him, but when he left me, I was not just alone, I was helpless!"
"Mary, you're not helpless anymore," Chris said, trying to understand. "Far from it. You're one of the most capable people I know."
"You're damn right, I am. It took time, and I had to sacrifice my son to do it, but I learned to take care of myself. For the first time in my life, I got to take charge of my fate, to let no one make the decisions for me. I don't want to go back to that! I need more than just being someone's wife."
Okay, now he understood and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Composing his thoughts, Chris looked up at her. "Mrs Travis, you are the most opinionated, goddamn stubborn woman in creation but you've kind of grown on me because of that. If you hadn't been that way, I would have shot you dead and moved on. I love you for what you are, I always have, but this isn't about the baby, is it?"
"What do you mean?" Mary stared back, suspicious. "What else could it be?"
Chris took a step closer to her, so she had to look up at him. "This is about why I still have to sneak out of your bed and still call you Mrs Travis when we're out in public. This is about getting married."
"I have no difficulty marrying you." She said stiffly, and Chris knew she was lying.
"Like hell, you don't." He countered, going on the offensive now. "Face it, Mrs Travis, you got a problem with commitment."
"I do not have a problem with commitment!" Mary shouted defiantly. "You're not exactly the catch of the day you know."
"I was good enough for the last two months. Good enough, as a matter of fact, to get you pregnant and be willing to marry you, even though you look like the one who's going to jump the stage and head out of town!"
So much for being calm, Chris thought.
*****"Hey, it is becoming somewhat ugly out there," Alex announced her concern while wrapping a support bandage around Josiah's shoulder. Despite the group's attempt not to eavesdrop, the volume of the conversation outside had risen to a level that made it impossible to ignore it. "Should someone go out there?"
In her present condition, Alex was mindful of Mary's welfare. She knew the widow already had many anxieties in her current state.
"Nah," Buck replied, wincing slightly as Nathan dabbed the cut over his eye with a solution that stung. "It's like alligators about to mate. How about it, Vin? Two bits say they go another two minutes?" Buck looked over his shoulder at the tracker.
Vin met Buck's gaze and smiled a little. "I call it at three."
"I say less than two," Inez added, looking up from her cup of coffee.
"That ain't exactly nice," Nathan said reproachfully. "Betting on your friends like that."
"What do you call it?" Buck looked at him sarcastically, knowing Nathan all too well.
The healer dabbed more solution onto the cut and muttered under his breath. "I say five minutes."
Alex rolled her eyes and exclaimed in exasperation. "You're all idiots."
"Yeah, but you love us," Buck winked at the doctor.
Josiah looked up at Alex with complete innocence, "I'm only involved because I have the pocket watch."
*****"I am not avoiding the issue!" Mary declared hotly not liking the truth Chris forced her to admit. "Just because I refuse to rush into marriage does not mean I have a problem with commitment!"
"Oh, really?" Chris returned her heated glare. "Prove it."
"How?"
"Let's get married right now. Josiah is a preacher, he can do it. Hell everyone's here!"
This time, she was not squirming out of this. Chris understood her desire not to be rushed, and for two months, he respected it. Now, the issue was no longer about her reputation or his being accustomed to a woman in his life again. This was about a baby. His and hers. The child inside her deserved to have a name, and it was not going to be illegitimate if Chris Larabee had anything to do with it.
Mary looked at him as if he had gone mad. "Have you lost your mind? That thing is out there trying to kill us both, and you want me to organise a wedding?"
"Who said anything about a wedding? We both say I do, Josiah says we can, and that's the end of it. We could do it in two minutes, no fuss, no rice."
"Give me your gun. You're too dangerous to walk around armed."
"So is that a yes, Mrs Travis?" Chris ignored her sarcasm and pressed again because she had managed to avoid the question, as she'd been avoiding it ever since they started to share the same bed.
Mary fell silent, recognising the gauntlet thrown at her feet and knew there was no way to escape from picking it up. In a moment of clarity, Mary Travis realised if she said no to him again, it would be the biggest mistake of her life. Mary loved him. From the first moment she laid eyes on him, Mary had known this. Faced with this truth, she understood her fears had to do with letting go of the past and building something new with him, just like Darien portended.
"Alright, let's get married."
"Really?" He observed her, watching for any signs of weakness or anxiousness.
"Yes! What do you want? An editorial?"
"No." He shook his head and smiled faintly. "A yes will do for now. We'll get married as soon as this thing is over."
"Wait a minute! What happened to the no fuss, no rice?"
"Can't get married without a wedding," he winked.
This time Mary did not step away when he took her hand and pulled her gently towards him. Chris gave Mary a chaste kiss, and for tonight at least, everything was alright in their world.
The Terminator stared at itself in the mirror of the general store.
It was night now, and the store was left unattended for the evening. Beyond the glass windows of the premises, its audio sensors detected the voices outside. As it conducted the necessary maintenance on its appearance, the Terminator activated its internal recorder, keeping surveillance on the humans investigating the destruction in case there was useful information to be gleaned for its search for the secondary target.
The shotgun blast had ruined one side of its face. Beneath the blood and pulp of flesh, its metallic endoskeleton was clearly visible, and the Terminator knew the first order of business was to camouflage this injury. A hat would not hide its face well enough, and an eye patch would only conceal his eye and nothing else. Rummaging through the goods on sale, the Terminator soon found something that would suffice just as adequately. Unrolling the length of bandage, it began wrapping the material across the raw half of its face.
While it did this, the Terminator considered its next move. With the disappearance of the primary and secondary targets, it was necessary to widen the scope of its search. During the gunfight earlier, the Terminator scanned all the humans who attempted to defend the primary. Its memory banks contained information on the six men recorded as known associates of Christopher Larabee.
The Terminator kept its scans localised on geography, knowing there was a high probability Christopher Larabee would not return to his residence in anticipation of interception. A title deed recorded in Larabee’s name told the Terminator exactly where the land was situated. Nathan Jackson owned a medical infirmary, but once again, the probabilities were not in favour of either man fleeing to this location. The saloon from which the Terminator recently departed belonged to Ezra Standish in part ownership with a Maude Standish, who had no fixed address at this point in history.
Two possibilities had very high probabilities of success. One was a religious establishment frequented by Josiah Sanchez, one of Larabee’s associates and was known to be a practitioner of arcane beliefs. More promising was the data regarding the youngest member of the group, JD Dunne. He would take a wife who presently resided in this community. The bride to be was located on a small farming property several kilometres from the Terminator’s present location.
The Terminator examined itself in the mirror once it swathed the exposed metal under layers of bandage, revealing no signs of its endoskeleton. Scanning the premises, the cyborg saw a hat stacked neatly with others on a shelf and went towards it. Placing the headgear over its brow, the cyborg examined itself once more to ensure it resembled a human once again.
Discarding its soiled clothes, now soaked in blood, they were replaced with better fitting garments from the stock in the establishment. It noted the weapons trapped in place by a thick chain holding them against a rack. Encircling its titanium digits around the steel, the Terminator removed the links of metal with one sharp yank. It snapped like kindling, and the freed chain rattled noisily in its descent to the wooden floor. Surveying the selection, the Terminator took the most efficient weapons in the limited arsenal.
Once the Terminator was satisfied it had all the tools necessary to complete the mission objective, it departed just as unnoticed into the night to continue the hunt.
*****There were times when Mary hated being a woman because the conventions of society demanded she accepted things no matter how much she disliked it.
The draconian rules of behaviour women were meant to follow, but men flaunted without a care in the world. She detested the prejudices, the constant upkeep of reputation, and the physical danger a woman was often helpless to defend. Most of all, she hated the endless waiting while men rode off to face dangers she could not fathom, and she was required to wait patiently for their return.
This was one such moment.
As Chris prepared to make the long journey to Eagle Bend with the rest of the seven, Mary was forced to trail behind; unable to lend a hand while a mechanical monster went after her son. Chris was taking no chances with Billy’s life and was heading out shortly before dawn.
Orin and Evie Travis had to be warned about what was coming in their direction so they could escape while there was time. Mary wanted badly to go with Chris, but he would not consider the idea, let alone agree to it. As annoyed as Mary was by his refusal, she knew he was right. It was not just her own life that hung in the balance. There was also the life of the child inside her.
“You get riding to Bitter Creek as soon as it’s dawn. When we get Billy, we’ll make our next move.”
Mary did not like the idea of separating, but she understood the need. They had to make time to catch the Terminator, as Darien called it, and she would only slow them down.
“Alright,” she agreed as she saw the others waiting for Chris to mount his horse. Only Ezra was absent because he was in no condition to travel after the injuries he sustained at the monster’s hands.
When it was light, Mary, Alex, Inez, and Ezra would travel by wagon to Bitter Creek. None of them had any connection to the community, so if the Terminator was using only what information was available in the historical archives, it was likely the town would be ignored as a possible interception point.
“What is our next move?” She asked, hoping he had an answer.
“I’ll have it figured out by the time I come back.” He leaned forward to kiss her gently on the lips.
With Darien joining them, the group was still seven strong even without Ezra’s participation. Josiah was at the reins of Mary’s wagon with Darien riding shotgun since the time traveller was not terribly comfortable on a horse. The weapons he brought with him from the future lay nestled in the back tray of the wagon, awaiting use on the enemy.
Inez was saying her farewells to Buck, pretending she really didn’t care what happened to him even though Buck could see differently in her eyes. As she blew him a kiss, he thought of the children they would make together so Darien Lambert could be born. It was a sweet promise for the future.
Meanwhile, Vin Tanner received the obligatory caution from Nettie, instructing him to be careful. The tracker was grateful for the old woman even if he found it annoying she could read him so easily. It gave him some sense of satisfaction, knowing at least one woman would weep if anything happened to him.
Since their exchange by the creek, Vin noticed Alexandra Styles was keeping her distance. He suspected what occurred between them unsettled her, but he was not foolish enough to read any more into it than that.
Or so he thought.
Alex hadn’t intended to see him off, but after at the creek, she found she could think of little else. For most of the night, she replayed in her mind, their exchanges since her arrival in Four Corners, armed with the possibility his feelings for her might be entirely different than what she initially believed. When Vin touched her, Alex felt something inside her leap with excitement, as if it had been waiting for its time, and was finally here. Yet she had no idea what to do with this realisation.
What on Earth did he do to her?
“Take care of yourself, Vin.” Alex surprised him by coming up alongside his horse, trying not to show she cared when in truth, she really did. “I don’t want you for a patient any time soon.”
“I’ll try not to inconvenience you Doc.” He drawled and for a moment and saw she was looking at him intently. For a moment, everything he felt about her sparked in his blue eyes and Vin turned away, less something was said he couldn’t take back. Turning to join Chris, he realised she’d called him Vin for the first time.
Mary watched in silence as Chris dug his heels into his horse and started the group on its way. As always, he took the lead, his dark duster trailing in the wind as he rode off into the night. She stared after him until the cloud of dust left by the trail of horses pulling away into the darkness settled in place once more.
“They’ll be fine.” Inez squeezed her arm gently, knowing she needed support more than ever.
“God, I hope so.” Mary sighed. “I don’t think I’m ready to raise another child by myself.”
“It won’t come to that.” Alex approached them, offering her the reassurance Mary needed to hear right now.
“Come on now,” Nettie Wells broke into the conversation. “You ladies need some sleep.” The older woman gestured at them to come back into the house. “You got a long day ahead of you.”
To that, none of them could disagree.
*****Ezra Standish blinked.
Sunlight was pouring at him through an open window, and as he squinted into focus, he felt utterly awful. The sharp pain in his skull was unlike anything he had ever known. It was even worse than a hangover from drinking that god awful Red Eye the others were so fond of. He tried to reach for his head, but his arms felt heavy, forcing him to give up. There were vague images in his mind following the burst of horror that was his last conscious thought.
Closing his eyes, he shuddered as the memory of tightening fingers around his throat returned to him and sent a shiver of cold panic throughout his body. He remembered Chris warning the monster off and it not listening before he was struck with an agony so excruciating, it left a black hole inside Ezra’s mind.
The fear diminished upon the discovery he was not in a saloon and the view outside told him he was at Nettie Wells’ farm, some hours ride from Four Corners. Ezra tried to sit up but succeeded in only shifting slightly in his bed. It was then he noticed Alex. Her head lay against the mattress while the rest of her tried to sleep in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed. Ezra had no doubt she had been there all night.
He made his fingers cooperate enough to touch strands of long dark hair, luxuriating in its texture. It was the best evidence of his survival following the encounter with the demonic creature that nearly killed him. Alex nuzzled against his hand as he caressed her hair, letting out a soft sigh capable of tempting even the most celibate of men.
Sadly Ezra was in no condition to take such liberties in that regard even in the unlikely possibility the lady chose to accommodate him, which she did not. While Alex cared for him deeply, she conducted herself like any woman of good reputation. In any case, Ezra was in no particular hurry and enjoyed what he had with her at the pace she’d set.
In the meantime, he could still dream.
His touch stirred her into awakening and after another breathless sigh; Alex lifted her head and blinked groggily at him with heavy eyelids. It took a few moments for her to register where she was before she noticed his eyes on her.
“Good morning,” she smiled at him, the relief at his well being lit up her eyes like a thousand stars.
“How are you feeling?” She pushed a strand of tousled hair from her eyes as she started to sit up.
“I’ve been better,” Ezra responded and found it was not as easy to do. His voice was little more than a croak, and his throat felt so dry.
“Don’t move,” she warned and stood up to make a quick examination of the bandage over his forehead. Ezra took a breath of her scent as she leaned over. “Your skull was cracked open.”
“It was?” Ezra asked before the memory of a wooden beam came into view, before an explosion of pain. What happened in that saloon returned to him so sharply, he actually winced and fought the wave of nausea surfacing with the memory of that vise-like fingers encircling his throat.
That creature was trying to kill Chris!
“Chris,” he managed to say. “Did it get Chris?”
“No.” She shook her head, gently trying to settle him back into the pillows. She heard from Nathan how bravely Ezra stood up to Chris’s attacker. The enemy was only seconds away from killing the gunslinger when Ezra provided the timely interference allowing Chris to escape at a high cost to himself. “You gave Chris enough time to get away.”
“I am gratified to hear that,” Ezra groaned before resting back on the bed as she wished. “However, I wish I could say the same for myself.”
“You’ll live,” Alex replied, pouring him a cup of water from a pitcher from the table next to the bed. He had to be thirsty considering he had slept most of the night, and the freshwater would go some way to soothing the throat the drugs would have left parched.
“I’ll trust you on that.” He grimaced, lying back in his pillows again after taking a sip of water. The fluid felt icy in his throat but did appease some of the irritation he felt, though not much. However, Ezra was grateful when he noticed there were no other injuries anywhere else on his body. He wriggled his toes and was pleased to know everything was working if lacking its usual vigour.
“Am I mistaken or are we currently at Nettie Well’s humble abode?”
“The man who attacked you is still out there. Chris and the others thought we should stay out of his way until they figured out his next move.”
Ezra remembered the glowing red eyes and the steel plate under the creature’s skin and realised Chris omitted a few things out in his account of their experiences to Alex. She looked oblivious to the true nature of the beast. At the moment, Ezra had no wish to enlighten her. Part of him was still questioning what he saw and hoped it was a product of an over-imaginative mind in his unconscious state. Until he spoke to the others and confirmed what he’d seen, Ezra was not about to enlighten her on what inflicted this brutality upon him.
“So where are the others?”
“They had to leave. They think he’s going to go after Billy Travis to draw Chris out.”
“That would do it,” Ezra admitted ruefully. Considering the nature of Chris’s relationship with the boy’s mother, it was a wise move. Anyone who wanted to find Chris Larabee’s weakness need not look any further than the young widow and her son. “So are we to enjoy Mrs Wells’s hospitality until they return?”
“Afraid not,” she shook her head. “Chris wants us in Bitter Creek as soon as possible.”
Alex glanced at the sunshine outside and heard the sounds of the others, moving about beyond the room. Slowly, the house came alive with the sounds of morning.
“As a matter of fact,” she rose to her feet and stretched her tired muscles from its cramped position the night before. “I do believe we ought to get going soon.”
Even though she was trying hard not to show it, Ezra could see the depth of her concern at his welfare. He had no doubt she spent most of the night at his side, keeping a vigil on his life, which she probably saved. It made Ezra marvel in wonder at what he did to earn such affection in one as centred and sometimes glacial as Alex Styles. He was not sure he deserved it.
Ezra had no time to ponder that question when he heard a loud crash startling them both. Alex jumped to her feet immediately, and Ezra surprised himself by managing to sit up. Alex was too distracted by the noise to stop him as he staggered out of bed, trying to join Alex at the door as she went to find out what was happening.
Alex shot him a look as he stood up, her expression horrified. “Get back in bed! You are in no condition to be on your feet!”
Just standing up almost floored Ezra but the disturbance beyond forced him to move. His head throbbed with pain with each step he took as if his brain was screaming out in protest for his misbehaviour. At least the pain provided him with clarity as he saw Alex starting to open the door.
“Wait!” He hissed and closed the distance, bracing himself against the doorway when he reached her and shoved her aside. Leaning forward, Ezra peered through the crack of the door to see what was happening.
Outside, he saw the monster. It was dressed differently with bandages concealing its face, but Ezra knew without a doubt it was the same thing he faced the night before. Nettie Wells was lying against the floor, a terrible gash running across her forehead. The front door had been flung open, having been broken through and was barely hanging on by its hinges. The wooden floor was covered with glass and wood splinters. Casey was screaming, trying to run past the monster to reach her aunt. She was almost hysterical from fright.
Ezra closed the door and turned back to Alex.
“Get to the window,” he struggled to speak, closing his eyes as he tried to focus, tried to think clearly through the miasma of pain.
“Ezra, I’m not leaving you.” Alex stared at him incredulously. Last night this man’s brains were exposed to the elements, the only reason he was not doubled over in pain was that she’d administered enough morphine to help him cope with it.
“Trust me,” he said weakly. “I do not intend on staying, but you need to get the wagon so we can leave.”
“Mary and Inez are here as well!” She hissed exasperated, trying not to let fear best her but Ezra had no idea the two women were with them since he was unconscious throughout the entire trip here.
“Damn.” He cursed, having no desire to face the demon again but knowing now he had no choice. He just hoped that this time he would live to tell the tale.
*****The Terminator caught Casey before she could reach Nettie. The young woman could think of nothing but the blood running down aunt’s face and had no idea of what had her so firmly in his grip. She knew it was a man, but somehow it was not. She had no way of articulating the feeling. The Terminator picked her up under the chin with his powerful arms, leaving Casey dangling like a fish on a hook as she struggled above the floor.
The cyborg examined the young woman and immediately determined she was not Mary Travis. This was a female in late adolescence, and he was searching for an adult woman. Upon realising, Casey was not who he sought, he tossed the girl aside like a rag doll. Fortunately, Casey knew how to land being tomboy, although until now, she never dreamed it could be so useful. Dropping awkwardly on the floor but not enough to cause herself an injury, Casey Wells scrambled to Aunt Nettie’s side.
She knew how to tell when an animal was dead. She had gone fishing with JD enough times to realise the look of something dying, and to her complete relief, Casey’s quick examination of Nettie revealed her aunt was still in the land of the living. The intruder was oblivious to her now as he moved deeper into the house and Casey took advantage of his indifference to heave Nettie to her feet. She was strong, performing the chores on the farm customarily undertaken by a man.
Staggering out the broken remains of the front door, Casey was aware that something terrible was in pursuit of her friends and the safest thing for her to do at the moment was to get out of his way. Nettie was starting to come around as they hurried down the front steps.
“Casey!” Alex exclaimed as she came around from the other side of the house after making her hasty exit through the window. She fought the urge to go back after Ezra but knew he would not appreciate her return. Right now, he needed her to bring the wagon so they could all get out of here alive.
“Doctor Styles,” Casey wailed. “I think Aunt Nettie’s hurt real bad.” The girl said panic-stricken as Alex helped her with the injured older woman. The cut on Nettie’s forehead was deep and bled profusely, as all wounds on the head tended to do, but Alex knew it was superficial. If Nettie was suffering anything, it was most likely a concussion.
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Alex replied as they both moved towards the wagon.
“Miss Travis and Miss Inez are still in there!” Casey declared, and Alex shared her fear for their lives. She felt similar distress for Ezra as well, who was injured but would undoubtedly feel it necessary to get the ladies to safety first despite the risk to himself. Fighting her fear, Alex knew the best way to help him, was to get the wagon as he had asked.
*****“Inez, I am not going without you!” Mary insisted in dismay as Inez took point at the door to the guest room they were sharing.
“I don’t have time to argue with you! “You know what depends on you staying alive! Get going!”
Mary Travis was at a loss over what to do. The window lay before her as her only means of escape. Inez barricaded the door to the room with a dresser, but it was evident after what the Terminator did to enter the house, no barrier was going to be quite enough to keep it out. Chris insisted they kept a gun nearby just in case of trouble, but he could not have possibly suspected the Terminator would track them down here.
Mary knew Inez was right, but she could not stomach the thought of leaving her best friend to face the creature who was slamming so hard against the door, the dresser in front of it skidded backward several inches.
“I’ll be right behind you!” Inez promised, pushing the dresser back again, even though it was a futile hope at best. “Take Chaucer in the corral up there and get going!” Inez ordered again, her eyes pleading with Mary to obey.
Mary could see Ezra’s chestnut gelding and knew she had no choice. “You’re the best friend I ever had!” Mary cried out as she hurried towards the opening and climbed through.
“Stop saying that in the past tense!” Inez shouted back just before a final jolt against the door sent the dresser crashing forward. Inez stumbled back in shock while Mary practically fell out the window from the powerful quake throughout the room. No sooner than the furniture toppled over, a fist smashed through the wooden door. Inez was transfixed in a moment of horror as she saw him rip through the planks as if they were paper. It was only when he was halfway through the door she raised the gun in her hand and squeezed off a series of shots.
They had little or no effect on the Terminator as it entered the room and took note of the open window. The human before it was of the right age but not the correct racial type. Mary Travis was Caucasian, and this female was Latino. The six bullets escaped the chamber of the weapon and struck it across the chest at point-blank range. It quickly estimated the female would not pose much of a threat. It struck her in a backhanded blow that sent her sprawling against the floor.
The strike was so powerful Inez felt all the wind knocked out of her as her face flared in pain. She lifted her head and saw the Terminator take a step forward. Inez crossed herself, knowing with absolute certainty that when he reached her; she was going to die.
“Sir, your manners with the ladies are absolutely appalling.” Ezra Standish’s weak voice suddenly spoke from the door. He entered through the opening made by the Terminator. He was standing before the mechanical monster holding Nettie’s double-barrel shotgun and the one belonging to Josiah, obviously left behind for the ladies. The Terminator turned around, disregarding Inez now that a more formidable threat had arrived.
This time, Ezra did not wait until it got close enough. He fired both weapons in rapid succession, each blast from the shotgun forcing the Terminator backwards, towards the open window. The pain was unbelievable, but Ezra forced himself to ignore it. Each blast roared as loudly in his head as it did in reality. Icicles of pain stabbed at him but Ezra ignored it, using the agony to maintain focus, telling himself if he faltered they would all die.
Ezra kept firing until spent cartridges were flying in all directions. The Terminator staggered backwards, the force of the blasts keeping it off balance. Finally, as it neared the window, Ezra aimed both barrels side by side and fired together. The recoil drove Ezra to his knees, but it had the desired effect. The Terminator went crashing through the window into the greenery outside.
With that effort, Ezra collapsed, the guns falling from his grip.
“EZRA!” Inez hurried to him, horrified by his state. The bandage across his forehead was stained with a growing spot of blood. She had been dazed, but the shotgun fire brought her back to her senses with surprising speed.
“Come on Senor,” Inez helped him to her feet as her eyes darted back and forth anxiously from the open window and Ezra. “You have done enough.”
Barely conscious, Ezra whispered. “Not nearly.”
Using all the strength she could muster, Inez dragged him through the house towards the front door. Discarding the guns because there was no way she could carry them and him, she had no idea how long it would take for the Terminator to recover. It didn’t matter, she had no intention of being here when it did.
“Ezra! Inez!” Alex cried from behind the reins of the wagon. She was coming from the direction of the barn where it and the horses were kept. Forcing it to a stop, Alex shouted at Casey. “Help them!”
Casey jumped off the wagon where she had been tending to Nettie and hurried to Inez, helping the bartender support Ezra’s weight as they dragged him to the buckboard. No sooner than he’d tumbled against the wooden tray, he lapsed into unconsciousness. Inez suspected he would not be performing last-minute rescues any time soon.
“Where’s Mary?” Alex demanded searching the area for the blond woman.
As she asked the question, she was answered by the neighing of another horse, galloping into view. Needing no more prompt than that, Alex snapped the reins and got the wagon moving. Alex’s eyes widened at the sight of the Terminator, making his appearance once more. It ran across the dirt ground effortlessly, attempting to prevent them from leaving until all of a sudden, it stopped and took careful aim.
“Mary, watch out!” Inez shouted the warning too late.
The bullet caught Chaucer in the rump, but it was enough to halt the animal in full stride. It kicked its hind legs backward in pain, propelling Mary out of the saddle with no effort whatsoever. Inez’s heart stopped beating when she heard the terrible crunch of bone as Mary landed on the dirt. For a second that might as well have been hours, no one could speak until they saw the Terminator advancing, and then time sped up.
“Stop!” Inez shouted. Both she and Casey were out of the wagon before the horse had even come to a full stop. Heart pounding, Inez was running full stride as she sprinted towards her friend who was sprawled across the dirt path. Skidding to her knees, ignoring the gravel scraping her flesh, Inez rolled Mary over and saw she was out cold.
“Oh my God,” Casey said horrified because neither of them could tell if Mary was still breathing.
“Come on,” Inez wasted no time helping Mary up. Even as she and Casey lifted the blond woman to her feet, she could see the Terminator coming up the path, running at full speed. Quickly, they hauled the woman to the wagon, arms straining in pain because Mary was almost a dead weight. They scrambled onto the buckboard when the Terminator was only a few feet away. It raised its gun to fire again.
“GO! ALEX! GO!”
Inez uttered a short scream as she saw the Terminator lower its weapon, choosing a different tactic instead. It broke into a sprint, giving itself enough momentum to leap forward. It latched onto the back rail of the wagon, trying to climb up. Casey was screaming, trying to pull Mary out of the Terminator’s reach.
Inez looked around frantically, searching for a weapon because she had lost her gun, and the shotguns were back in Nettie’s home. There was a shovel lying within reach and Inez grabbed it. Wasting no time, she swung at the Terminator’s fingers. Whether or not the thing felt pain was a mystery, but Inez did not stop striking until the wood itself splintered, and the Terminator was tumbling away from the departing wagon.
Inez sunk to her knees, releasing an exhausted sigh as she sat where she was for a moment, allowing the adrenaline to subside.
“Is everyone alright back there?” Alex called out as she continued snapping the reins, forcing the horse to move faster, hoping to widen the distance between them and their assailant.
It was Inez, who was staring at the unconscious bodies of Nettie Wells, Ezra Standish and Mary Travis, that answered through barely concealed tears.
“No, Alex,” she said softly, “everyone is almost definitely not alright.”
It was when they stopped for a break after riding for hours Darien felt the slow vibration of Selma's mechanism inside his coat pocket.
At the time, Darien was engaged in an interesting discussion with the preacher Josiah. Darien found Josiah to be an extremely learned and well-travelled man whose insights were fascinating. While Darien didn't give the man specifics, they were able to converse about the state of religion in the twentieth century.
Upon feeling that familiar hum, Darien excused himself and stepped away from the group, who were grateful to be stretching their legs after hours in the saddle. As he strode away from them, he admired the green gold plains and the mountains in the distance. Despite the circumstances of his arrival here, Darien confessed he was enjoying the unspoiled view of America before the stink of gasoline propelled vehicles, and big developers put condominiums and theme parks in the wide-open spaces where nothing should be.
"What is it Selma?" Darien asked, wondering why she was breaking radio silence. While these men were aware of her existence, he was not about to flaunt the technology in their faces. As much as they might have accepted his story about the Terminator, he suspected they were uneasy about it, and he wanted to limit their exposure to the future as much as possible.
"Captain, I searched through my data banks upon learning Mary Travis is pregnant, and I have encountered some conflicting information."
"What's there to be conflicted about?" Darien shrugged, seeing nothing unusual about that. With the ripple and the inefficiency of records in this era, it was natural some facts didn't accurately align. "Skynet made a mistake, it sent the Terminator back a little later than it should have. Doesn't change the fact that a child is still at risk."
Selma didn't answer right away, but the pause was telling. Selma was programmed to mimic human behaviour, and such nuances were added to her speech when she was about to present him with news he wasn't going to like.
"Stop giving me radio silence Selma. What have you found?"
"No child was born to Chris Larabee and Mary Travis during this period. The children who become Kyle Reese's ancestors are not scheduled to be born for some time yet."
"But she's pregnant!" Darien exclaimed and quickly silenced himself because out here, voices carried, and he didn't want Chris to be privy to what he and Selma were discussing.
"I am aware of the situation, Captain, but as I said, the information is very clear on this point. Chris Larabee and Mary Travis will marry soon enough, but not because of any child."
"That would mean…." The words died in his mouth as the full implications of what Selma was attempting to tell him as sympathetically as the machine was able, dawned on him. Darien glanced in the direction of Chris and his friends, feeling a wave of sympathy for the doom Selma was implying.
"Do we know how?"
"Not currently I'm afraid Captain." Selma offered sombrely. "As you indicated earlier, with the timeline in such a state of corruption, exact details are difficult to locate. It could be happening right now at this moment, or even months away. There is a seven-month margin of error."
The Terminator's arrival coinciding with Mary Travis's pregnancy was too much of a coincidence for Darien to accept. What if the Terminator was the cause of the child being lost?
"Selma," he said after a few minutes with such dark thoughts, "is there any way for the Terminator to know where Mary is at this moment?"
"I am unable to provide you with a conclusive answer. I do not understand its programming parameters. If the Terminator can conduct interrogations, then it could discover Mr Dunne's affiliation with the girl Cassandra Wells. However, if I am to understand what Sarah Connor reported about the cyborg's behaviour as being accurate, then I doubt it would use interrogation as a matter of information retrieval."
Darien was not so optimistic. In fact, that bad feeling was now reaching apogee. "What about Cassandra Wells? Is there anything about her on record that might give away her relationship with JD Dunne?"
"I shall conduct a search.” After a few moments, she spoke again. "Captain, the archival files on JD Dunne indicate he remains in Four Corners permanently as its law enforcement officer. It also mentions his wife Cassandra Wells, is a resident of Four Corners."
"Which the Terminator will undoubtedly be aware of as well!"
Darien cursed. It never occurred to him until now to consider the future relationships that might provide the Terminator with clues to conduct its hunt. As if he were splashed with cold water, Darien knew the Terminator was not on its way to Eagle Bend.
*****Casey had never ridden so fast in her life or so far on her own, but the young woman knew she needed to reach JD and the others after what took place this morning. At Alex's behest, they left the farm and headed to the Indian village where both Nathan and Alex occasionally provided medical treatment to the locals. Thanks to the seven's friendship with Chano and Kojay, Alex was confident the chief would give them refuge while she and Inez tended to their injured number.
With Chanu away from the village, it was up to Casey to make the trip. Once the decision was made, Kojay providing her with a horse. As the best rider in the group, Casey would get to the men faster since Inez was needed to stay behind and help Alex with Mary, Ezra and Aunt Nettie.
As the palomino mare galloped across the plains as if she were sailing over the expanse of golden grass, Casey kept worries of Aunt Nettie out of her mind. Even though Doctor Styles assured Casey her aunt was suffering a mild concussion and would merely require rest, Casey still shuddered seeing the blood gushing from that terrible wound on Nettie's head. It infuriated her knowing she was helpless to do anything while the intruder did its worst.
Thank God Ezra managed to rescue Inez before it was too late. Even in his weakened state, he'd got to his feet long enough to help. She always thought little of the gambler, despite JD feeling otherwise. Ever since he came with the seven to protect the farm and then claimed menial work was not for him, Casey made up her mind he was nothing more than an insipid city dweller. Now she knew why JD admired him so much.
It was Mary who was hurt the worst. The fall she'd taken was nasty enough, and it was a miracle she didn't break her neck. Casey knew of better riders than Mary suffering similar dismounts with tragic results. Mary was unconscious throughout the journey to the village, with Alex surrendering the reins to Casey so the doctor could examine her. Listening in on the conversation between Inez and Alex, Casey realized Mary's condition was a great deal worse than previously thought.
Casey felt a chill recalling how coldly the intruder behaved when he dangled her over the ground. Even now, she ached from the bruises left by his powerful fingers. He threw her away as if she were nothing, not even worthy of a bullet. It frightened her to think that JD might have to face such a man with the others.
And face it they would, after what he'd done to Mary.
****
"Chris, we have a problem."
When Darien ran to the campsite where Chris and his companions were in the middle of a quick meal, his expression of worry immediately put the gunslinger on guard. Chris got to his feet quickly, followed by the others as Darien prepared to deliver his news.
"What sort of problem?"
"I'm sorry," Darien apologized, wondering if words would ever be enough. "It never occurred to me."
"What?" Chris demanded, striding up to him, his hands clenched into fists to brace himself for what was coming.
"The Terminator may track Mary back to Nettie's."
Not wanting to disclose any more of the future than necessary, he knew Chris would need a better explanation than just that blanket statement. Leaning over to Chris, Darien whispered quietly in the gunslinger's ear at how JD's future history might provide the Terminator with a clue to Mary's whereabouts. It was information JD did not need to know.
Chris stiffened upon hearing it and without another word, bolted towards his horse.
"Let's go!" Vin roused the others when he saw the blood drain out of Chris's face as the man ran past.
"Wait a minute," Darien spoke up. "I think some of us should keep going to Eagle Bend because Billy still has to be protected."
"Right," Buck agreed. "Someone's got to tell the judge what's going on."
"Alright," Vin thought quickly because they usually looked to the young man for guidance whenever Chris was not around. Vin himself could not understand it, and would have been mildly surprised by their answer had he chose to ask. "Buck, you, Josiah, Nathan and JD keep going to Eagle Bend. Take the wagon with you."
"I'm coming with you!" JD protested, full of worry for Casey even though he was not voicing it. In truth, he did not have to. They all knew his feelings for the young woman, but JD was young and impulsive. While Vin could sympathize because he inadvertently thought about Alex, He knew JD was not the right company to be around Chris at this moment.
"No, you're not," Vin said firmly. "We don't rightly know what's going on out there. It may be nothing, and if it is, then that monster is still on its way to Eagle Bend, and Buck and the others will need all the help they can get. I swear, we'll send word as soon as we know."
"But…" JD protested until Buck settled an arm on the boy's shoulder.
"It'll be okay kid," Buck said kindly, "they'll make sure Casey is safe."
Vin nodded at JD in confirmation of this fact, and finally, JD gave in. Although he was young, JD had a good head on his shoulders, enough to know what was the right thing to do.
"Okay Vin, I'll go with them."
"Good," Vin smiled in approval at JD. "Darien and I will go after Chris." He glanced over his shoulder and knew Chris was already gone. The best he and Darien could hope to do was keep up because they were certainly not going to slow him down.
"Vin." Buck closed the distance between them, gesturing the younger man away from the others for a moment. Buck remembered how Chris was after Sarah and Adam died. Chris had withdrawn into a dark abyss and never really emerged from it. If he were to lose Mary and their unborn child, there was no telling what Chris could do in his grief.
"If the worst has happened, be careful."
"I hear you." Vin nodded understanding all too well.
Chris Larabee, insane with grief, was like a rabid dog. When Chris came across news of his family's murderer for the first time in three years, it brought out a side to him that put the fear of God into all of his friends. During that period, Chris could barely be reasoned with. If something happened to Mary, there was no telling whether the scales would still balance.
*****Even after all these years, Chris Larabee remembered that night as if it happened yesterday.
He often wished he was spared that cruelty, but the passage of time did not lessen the clarity of the memory, if anything, it strengthened it. Sometimes, it was so overpowering, it eclipsed the images of Sarah and Adam. Even now, it was hard for Chris to imagine their faces in his mind. The pictures of them were destroyed in the fire. There were nights where he simply sat and tried to recall what they looked like, before drinking himself into a stupor when he couldn't.
He didn't even remember why he and Buck had gone to Mexico, but Chris had not been back since. Chris could not stomach crossing south of the border after that day. What awaited him at home after a night spent in that forgotten Mexican town destroyed him.
Chris was aware of nothing as his horse galloped through the trees, not stopping until he reached the black spot where his house stood, a burning ruin of charred wood and glass. He'd gotten off his horse and was driven to his knees. Buck spoke, but Chris couldn't hear anything beyond the realization somewhere in that pyre, was Sarah and Adam.
What remained of his wife and son when he finally found them was burned into his memory. For weeks after, he woke screaming, plagued with nightmares to this day had not completely vanished. Being in a permanent state of drunk was the only way he was able to cope. If Buck hadn't been there at his side, he would have probably killed himself. Their friendship never recovered from those dark days. Even now, it was a pale shadow of its former self.
The years after were filled with colourless, grey days, interspersed by moments of blood and violence, the pain smothered with more alcohol.
He didn't think there would be anything else beyond that. Not until he saw a woman with eyes like a dove, facing off a bunch of rowdy Texans hell-bent on hanging a black man for some imagined sin.
From the moment he saw her, he knew his heart was no longer his. She had taken it as quickly as Sarah had, and although Chris fought his feelings for Mary, he knew he lost the battle virtually from the very beginning. Keeping her at arm's length was the only way he knew how to stave off the feelings threatening to overwhelm him.
When he did finally submit to it, Chris marvelled at how easily she drove the demons away with the overwhelming might of her love for him. He basked in her, relished every moment they spent together. When he learned that she was carrying his child, he had not believed it was possible to find heaven twice in a lifetime.
Which was why Chris Larabee knew with absolute certainty if he lost Mary, he wouldn't give a fuck anymore.
The future could burn.
*****
Casey had been riding for hours when she saw horses approaching her at a fast and furious pace. She was saddle sore, and she wished she could stop, especially since she was in unknown territory. Casey had never been this far away from Four Corners alone, and despite her youthful bravado, she was scared. For once she was grateful she was dressed in her work clothes. Dressing like a young man out on his own was less likely to get her into trouble than looking like a girl alone.
She'd taken the fastest route to Eagle Bend, as directed by Kojay, aware Vin would most likely do the same if they were trying to get to Eagle Bend fast. On sighting the riders, she debated what she ought to do. Tucked in her pants was Ezra's small derringer. It could only take two bullets, but there was extra ammunition in her coat pocket.
Casey was comforted by its presence, even though she couldn't imagine using the weapon against a person. She could shoot well enough, but she had never drawn a gun on anyone. She hoped she would not be forced to now.
But when the first rider came into view, sprinting across the meadow, Casey felt her heart swelling at the familiar black duster and gelding coming in her direction. It was Chris!
"Chris!" Casey cried out as he thundered across the field, looking as if he was not about to stop for anything.
Chris looked up, recognizing the voice if not the face.
Pulling up the reins of his horse, the animal neighed in protest as its head reared up sharply, its front legs lifting off the dirt. Scanning the terrain, Chris saw a grey palomino on approach and headed towards it. Within minutes, Chris realized it was Casey and felt his heart clench when he guessed the reason she was out here.
Casey climbed off the palomino once it stopped, never feeling happier to see the imposing man in black. Like most of the women in town, Chris intimidated her with his impressive manner and his sombre features, but in times of crisis, he was also a pillar of hope.
"Is Mary all right?" Chris strode towards her and grabbed her shoulders hard when she did not answer him quickly enough.
"She's hurt real bad!" Casey said unashamedly showing fear at his manner. She began to recount her tale in a flurry of chatter, telling Chris how the stranger appeared that morning and hurt Aunt Nettie. How their escape resulted in Mary being thrown off her horse.
Chris listened, his jaw tightening with every word that escaped Casey's trembling lips. She had seen Chris Larabee angry before, but not like this. His eyes became very hard, so hard it was difficult for Casey to meet his gaze. Coyotes had eyes like this before they tried to tear out your throat.
When she was done talking, Chris fell silent and stayed that way for almost a minute. Finally, he registered her presence again.
"Vin is going to be coming this way soon. Stay put until he gets here."
He left her and strode towards the gelding.
"Where are you going?" Casey called out, frightened of his manner, but more afraid to have him leave her here alone.
"I'm going to see Mary first," he said quietly. "Then I'm going to kill that fucking thing."
*****He arrived at the village a few hours later, his insides still twisted by the fact that Mary had been harmed. In his worst moments during the ride, Chris was gripped by the terrible fear he would arrive too late to see her before she slipped away from him, as he had been too late for Sarah and Adam.
The Indians were not surprised to see his arrival, but the look in his eyes as he dismounted the horse and walked through their village, made them give him a wide berth. They knew Chris Larabee as a friend of Vin Tanner, but they also knew him as the undisputed leader of the seven and one of the most fearsome men to carry a gun in the Territory. In either case, they were not about to delay his journey to his woman.
Kojay wasted no time showing him to the collection of huts currently providing shelter to Mary Travis and those who had come with her. Kojay gave him the news Mary was still among the living, and during the seconds it took for him to be shown the way to her, felt the knots inside of him loosen with relief.
As he approached the tent where Mary was, Inez was seated cross-legged in front of the crackling fire. Upon seeing him, there was no joy in her eyes, only sadness. Nearing her, he winced at the terrible bruise against her cheek. She had been struck so hard, the flesh beneath her eye was swollen and purple. Lowering himself next to her, he placed his hand against her cheek and realized it was damp with tears.
"That looks bad."
"It's nothing," Inez dismissed the injury as unimportant because it was
"Mary?" Chris was almost afraid to ask. He wanted to see Mary right away, but something in Inez's eyes made him pause.
"She broke her arm and several ribs," Inez replied with great difficulty as she glanced in the direction of the tent. "Alex says she has a concussion and is very lucky she didn't break her neck."
There was more to it than that. Inez wouldn't be this upset over broken bones. Chris could see the pain in her eyes was not just for Mary, it was for him too.
"The baby?"
"I'm so sorry Chris." Inez reached for his arm and squeezed, trying not to break down again.
Chris blinked.
He felt his breath catch in his throat as the sense of loss overtook him. Images flashed in his mind, tiny fingers enclosing his fingertips, a toothless smile and a soft gurgle of laughter. Precious moments withered in the making because their child was dead. Chris forced the pain away because he had to be strong. He had to be strong because if he was suffering like this, then Mary's anguish was a thousand times worse.
"She's in there." Inez gestured to the closed tent flap.
She need not have told him, he could hear Mary's tears through it.
Mary was lying on her side, stripped down to her undergarments, partially covered with a blanket. Her arm was wrapped in an uncomfortable-looking splint of wood and bandages, and he could see the discolouration along the forearm. The signs of her fall were marked across her skin in scrapes and ugly bruises.
Seeing her this way, filled Chris with fury but he reined it in for now.
Mary was lying on her uninjured side because he could see under the lace of her camisole, the rough material of the bandages Alex taped around her broken ribs. Judging by how much of her was wrapped up, Chris estimated a break of at least three of four bones along the rib cage.
It could have been worse, he realized. Mary could have been killed.
Mary was curled up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest. She looked very much like a child. Her gold hair was splayed across her face appearing as if Mary were trying to hide beneath the canopy of silken strands. Nevertheless, Chris was able to see her lovely features marred by smaller bruises. The trail of discoloured flesh ran from her temples down to the arm trapped in wood.
She wasn't aware of him as she wept quietly, and each sob broke his heart.
"Mary" he spoke, letting her know he was there.
Mary lifted her head, brushing strands of hair out of her eyes so she could see him. For an instant, he was reminded of a rabbit caught in a trap, waiting to die. Terrified, in agony, and yet wholly resigned to the end that was coming. Her despair was so profound Chris felt his own control starting to waver. She held his gaze for a moment before turning away, because she couldn't bear to face him. He didn't say anything as he knelt down beside the soft skins of her bedding.
"The baby…" she tried to say but couldn't get the rest of it out.
"I know," Chris responded quickly, sparing her the pain of telling him.
Easing onto the skins beside her, Chris placed an arm around her waist, mindful of her injuries before planting a gentle kiss against her shoulder. Mary reacted by pushing her back against his body, needing his warmth as she wept her tears.
With her back to him, she tried again to explain herself. "I'm sorry. I should have listened to Inez. I should have gotten out of there sooner."
"You didn't know," Chris was unaware of what she was talking about but not caring.
What happened was not her fault, and Chris would die before letting her think that way. It broke his heart to hear the agony in her voice, but Chris knew of no words to ease this pain. All he could do was be there for her. While he could mourn the sorrows of a would-be father, the child was something she carried inside her, something cruelly ripped away from them both.
"I wanted it so much." Despite all the apprehension, she felt in the beginning, there was never a question of not wanting the baby. How could she not want anything made from the two of them? "Even when I was scared, I still wanted it. I swear Chris, I really did!"
"I know that Mary."
He could hear the guilt in her voice, the terrible self-loathing that came from thinking this was punishment for her earlier fears.
"I wanted it too. It would have been beautiful Mary," he kissed her shoulder again, trying to will his strength into her. He would have sold his soul then and there, if it meant taking away her pain. "Just like you."
"Oh Chris," she managed to turn around to face him. "What have I done to the future?" She stared at him at the realization of what the loss of this child would mean in their present situation. "I've ruined everything!"
Chris refused to let her continue. She already had enough guilt on her conscience without having the added burden of believing that as well.
"Mary, you didn't do anything to the future. You and I decide our fate based on what we want, not because of fancy tales we have no idea are true or not. Everything we do from here is what makes the future, and we will do it at our own pace and our own time. The future is not set Mary, it is what we make of it."
Whatever control Mary possessed dissolved completely, and she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and released the full torrent of her grief. Chris kept his arms wrapped around her, careful of her broken arm, allowing her to cling to him as she wept in loud, wracking sobs. She needed to be held, so that's what he would do, hold her and never let her go.
It was time to finish this once and for all.
By the time Chris emerged from Mary’s tent to face his friends, he knew that much for sure. He was sick and tired of running from a mechanical monster who nearly delivered a mortal blow to the woman he loved. For this reason alone, Chris was going to find the Terminator, and then he was going to destroy it. He had never been surer of anything in his life than he was about this right now.
"Chris, I’m sorry," Vin said softly, not knowing what else to say other than that. He wanted to ask Chris how Mary was, but the look on the gunslinger’s face was answer enough.
Chris merely nodded in acknowledgment, but in truth wanted to hear no apologies or condolences. His own pain could wait until he was alone or there was a bottle of whisky in which to drown it. Right now, Chris had larger concerns on his mind. There was much to do, and he wanted to get started immediately.
Staring at Darien for a moment, Chris wondered if the man from the future knew this would happen but discarded the thought because no good would come of it. It did not matter whether Darien knew or not because it was too late, the baby was gone, and all that remained for Chris to do was find the Terminator and kill it before it did anything worse.
"I’m through running from this thing," he announced as he glared at Darien.
Darien could see the cold ruthlessness behind Chris Larabee’s eyes and knew he did not want to contradict that statement. "What have you got in mind?"
"Will it go after Billy now it’s lost Mary’s trail?"
"Well," Darien looked around the rustic setting. "It couldn’t possibly track you down here."
After what happened with Casey Wells, Darien had Selma search all the records regarding the seven because he was not underestimating the Terminator again. Even if Chris didn’t blame him for what happened to Mary, Darien felt he was responsible for some of it. Now Chris Larabee was not merely angry, he was killer angry.
"Everything else in Four Corners is a dead end so it will widen its search parameters. I’d say yeah, it’ll go after Billy now."
"Good." Chris nodded, counting on that information because he had a plan. "Get some food and rest. We’ll ride in an hour."
"Back to Eagle Bend?" Vin guessed.
"Yeah," Chris replied and went towards Alex, who was examining Inez’s bruised eye. With all the injuries she had been forced to deal with, Inez’s eye was almost an afterthought.
"I need to get going in an hour," he explained to the two women. "I ‘m trusting Mary in both your hands until we get back."
"Don’t worry Chris, we’ll make sure she’s okay. You’re going after that cabrón ?"
"Yes, I am." He said through gritted teeth, trying not to think about the Terminator or what it had done to Mary and his friends. "How’s Ezra?"
"Resting comfortably" Alex answered automatically. "He was lucky this morning, but he needs to heal.”
"Let him rest," Chris instructed, hating it Ezra couldn’t ride with them, but Ezra did enough already. From what Casey told him earlier, Ezra managed to save Inez and give the women time to get out alive. Chris wasn’t going to forget that.
Instead, he focused his rage into a thin line of singular concentration. In the last few minutes, a plan formed in his head. With the weapons Darien brought from the future, he knew he would still be gambling with his life, but Chris wanted to see that metal motherfucker burn after what it did to Mary. For her, he would destroy this thing, so she need never have to fear losing another child again.
He owed her that much.
*****The Terminator entered the town of Eagle Bend in the early hours of the morning, following its encounter with the secondary target. With her escape, it was once again forced to widen the parameters of its search since it had no data to extrapolate the present whereabouts of Chris Larabee.
Unlike Four Corners, Eagle Bend was a much larger township, thriving with commercial pursuits as well as rural ones. As the Terminator walked through the streets, it was lost in the crowds of people with no idea what it was that walked amongst them.
If the cyborg could feel human emotion, it would have felt some impatience at the length of time taken to arrive in Eagle Bend. The disadvantage of travelling through this time was the decided lack of useful transportation. Although it was quite possible for the Terminator to run all the way to the growing township, it expended too much time and allowed a wider margin of escape for the prey.
As animals possessed instincts incalculable by Skynet even in the 21st century, no Terminator was able to hide from the lower order organisms. Dogs were employed by John Conner’s rebels to identify cyborgs attempting infiltration of their underground refuges, for just this very reason.
Thus, travel by horseback was impossible. As its first encounter with the human it would later identify as one of Larabee’s companions had proved, equine mammals possessed the same aversion to cybernetic organisms as the canine variety. As a result, the Terminator was forced to make its way to Sweetwater, where the mass transit system of the time would ensure it would be delivered to Eagle Bend.
Eagle Bend was the home of Billy Travis. Its files indicated this human was only a child and the secondary target was its birth mother. Without a doubt, the retrieval of the child would bring her out of hiding. The Terminator and Skynet concluded where Mary Travis was to be found, Chris Larabee would not be far behind.
The Terminator made its way through the tree-lined streets where Judge Orin Travis and his wife had a residence. It was a friendly neighbourhood, none of which the Terminator could appreciate in any shape or form. According to its calendar, today was a weekend, and so the hunter knew the prey would be at home.
As it continued up the pathway, along the rows of white picket fences and children playing in yards, the Terminator collected the visual data as it was programmed to do. Under normal circumstances the information would be transmitted to Skynet after completion of the mission, however, in this case, Skynet was thirsty for any byte of information capable of assisting in the annihilation of the enemy.
It turned up the walkway of the house on the corner. An animal was tethered to a hitching post before the front gate. It neighed its dislike in a loud whiny as the Terminator walked past, kicking its spindly legs up and down as it passed by with little more than a glance. The black gelding stamped its hooves in protest until the Terminator was far enough away, so its scent was no longer frightened the animal.
Its internal sensors immediately detected a familiar DNA signature. Without further hesitation, it removed the weapon concealed under its coat of tanned animal hide. Aside from the shotgun in its hand, the Terminator carried several smaller handguns on its person, but it selected the more efficient and deadly item of its arsenal first.
Larabee was in the house. It did not matter how or why because he Terminator was uninterested in such details. The primary target was here, and the hunt could resume once again. Its sensors detected no other life forms in the house, and there was a moment of pause, where it considered this an unusual happenstance. Why was Larabee here alone?
After a moment of calculation, it selected the most obvious response. An attempt at an ambush. However, the discovery of the threat did not end its advance. The Skynet part of its reasoning was exerting full control, ignoring tactical information for the more immediate need to complete the mission and save its existence. The Terminator advanced up the paved path, past the rose shrubs flanking the way to the front door. With one swift kick, it was able to bring down the heavy door with a thundering crash. Torn hinges hung precariously from the damaged wood as the Terminator entered the premises.
Larabee was close.
The sensors were starting to become ineffective by the proximity of the target. The Terminator made its way through the house with its elegant antique furniture and lace curtains. The odour of fresh flowers followed it as it crossed the length of the house in an instant. It was almost to the kitchen when audio sensors detected noise behind it. The Terminator swung around and found itself staring at the primary target, glaring at it from the doorway of the front entrance.
"I hear you’ve been looking for me." Chris Larabee spoke.
The Terminator reacted with lightning-fast reflexes, swinging the shotgun into firing position. Before it could squeeze the trigger, Chris darted through the door and was running down the walkway the cyborg just travelled. The Terminator fired anyway, the trajectory of shotgun pellets creating a hole through the wooden door frame and sending splinters in all directions. By now the primary target had fled.
Without further delay, the Terminator ran out of the house and saw Labrabee mounting the horse tethered outside. It raised its gun to fire again when it saw Larabee dig his heels into the gelding’s sides to sent it bolting forward. The horse took off through the street, and the Terminator leapt over the fence and was able to keep pace with it. Unlike the wagon earlier, the speed of the animal was hindered by the urban location.
Very quickly, the horse and rider reached the crowded main street of Eagle Bend with the Terminator still able to keep the target in its line of sight. The animal had difficulty weaving through the Saturday morning crowd of housewives and children indulging themselves in the weekend shopping and play respectively. Food vendors were out in force, along with newspaper boys as the township of Eagle Bend came alive with the morning.
No one paid any attention to the man in black riding a black gelding through town. Eagle Bend was not so far removed from its frontier days to forget the rabble-rousers and cowboys for which the West was infamous. Shootouts, although rare, were still a part of its culture, and while people took cover at the sight of the Terminator chasing Larabee on foot, it was nothing they had not seen or remembered from the town’s past.
Chris looked over his shoulder and saw the Terminator keeping up with his horse. Despite himself, he could not help feeling a little awed at the speed of the mechanical man. As soon as it encountered people, it began shoving them aside with little regard. The air came alive with the screams of outrage trailing the Terminator in its wake.
The gelding turned the corner of the dirt street, and for the first time, Chris could see the silhouette of the locomotive in the distance. At this time, the train was idling on the tracks. It waited patiently for the cleaning crew to arrive to prepare the carriages for the next leg of its journey. At this moment, Buck and Darien were ensuring no one was on the train when he and the Terminator arrived.
Chris dismounted the gelding as he reached the station, barely looking behind him to see if the Terminator was following because he knew it was. Its relentless pursuit of him was almost human. Chris pushed his way through the passengers who were lingering at the ticket booth. Leaping over the turnstile, he stepped onto the empty platform. Until the cars were cleaned, the paying public would not be allowed access to the train. However, no one attempted to stop him because Darien neutralized most of the station staff by injecting them with bullets that acted like sedatives. When they awoke again, they would find the train missing with no idea of who had taken it.
Crushing gravel underfoot as he ran towards the train, Chris finally risked looking over his shoulder and saw the Terminator following just as closely. As a matter of fact, it was gaining ground quite rapidly. Chris caught sight of Darien waiting at the head of the locomotive. The train was already billowing clouds of smoke through its funnel in anticipation of the journey soon to begin. For the last hour or so, Darien familiarised himself with the vehicle to play his part in Chris’s plan.
As Chris ran through the open door of one of the cars, the train whistle bellowed its intention to depart. Pistons came to life, forcing conrods into motion as the wheels started forward, propelling the locomotive forward. Chris disappeared into one of the numerous carriages on the train and held back long enough for the Terminator to see where he had gone.
The Terminator had no difficulty spotting the primary now it fixed on Larabeel’s DNA signature. It leapt onto the narrow platform leading into the last carriage to maintain the pursuit.
The wheels of the train heaved into movement as the locomotion jerked into action, slowly gaining speed as it began its snake-like exodus from Eagle Bend towards an uncertain destination. As it chugged past the platform, leaving the town behind, Chris allowed himself a note of satisfaction knowing Billy was at this moment with Orin and Evie Travis, safe from the grasp of any mechanical murderer. Chris had not lied when he told the others he was bringing an end to this relentless hunt.
Except for Buck and Darien at the controls of the locomotive, Chris was alone with the Terminator. The gunslinger preparing for a game of cat and mouse which would decide the future of them all. Chris was unwilling to risk any more lives to protect himself from this creature of steel and flesh. This was the final showdown Chris did not intend to lose.
If this Skynet wanted Chris Larabee so badly, it better be prepared to storm the gates of hell to find him because Chris was going to destroy it one way or the other.
*****"You sure you know how to drive this thing?" Buck looked at Darien with concern as the train began to pull out of the station. Eagle Bend swept past them in a blur of colour within a few seconds, and they were soon heading out towards the open country.
"Trust me, Buck." Darien grinned, unable to not feel some excitement at what they were planning to do. He had seen trains like these in museums in the future. However, it was nothing like the thrill of riding one, or better yet, driving it. "Selma knows everything there is to know about trains."
“That does not make me feel better." Buck was unimpressed by his enthusiasm as the sounds of engines chugged louder in his ears.
Darien did not blame Buck for his grim outlook. Buck was very vocal in his dislike of Chris Larabee’s plan, mostly because of the danger to Chris himself. Darien could share the sentiment since he was not overly fond of the idea at this moment, Chris was trying to keep one step ahead of the Terminator in the carriages they were taking along for the ride.
Fortunately, Selma’s memory-erasing abilities would keep the seven from suffering any consequences for stealing the train. Darien did not like utilizing her neural manipulation functions but realized it was necessary in this instance. The only memory retained by any witnesses would be that of the Terminator stealing the locomotive, and if all went as planned; even that little aspect would become a moot point.
Buck kept looking out of the window, trying in a futile attempt to catch a glimpse of how Chris was faring inside the train carriages. The urge to help his friend was making Buck pace the floor of the driver’s compartment like a caged animal. Darien was starting to get nervous merely looking at him.
"Buck, he will be okay."
"I know that! Chris can take care of himself." Buck grumbled, not sounding very convinced. "Let’s just hope you can drive this thing and Josiah takes care of his part of the plan."
Darien hoped so too because if Josiah and others failed, then this would all be for nothing.
*****
Chris had caught himself a tiger by the tail.
He always wondered what that meant, or why anyone would place themselves in such a dangerous situation. However, as he moved further up the train with the Terminator never more than a carriage behind, Chris understood the saying correctly. The Terminator showed no indication it was aware it was being led into a trap, not that it had any reason to be worried. Chris dodged it long enough for the train to leave the station and get fully underway. The journey to the rendezvous point was twenty minutes away. Throughout that time, Chris was going to have to stay ahead of the mechanical hunter.
Removing the gun Darien gave him from his holster, Chris paused a moment in the dining car to examine the weapon closely. It looked like one of his irons, but it had none of the refinement of his pearl-handled peacemaker. Instead, its appearance was squarish and chunky, with a finish that made the metal seem black. It had ten rounds, and inside Chris’s pockets were a handful of replacement clips. Darien gave him an abridged lesson in how to use the weapon and reload it, before the Terminator’s arrival. Other similar treasures were hidden across the train, but at the moment, this would have to do.
Suddenly, he heard the familiar slam of a carriage door and peered through the glass to see the Terminator crossing the juncture in between the train cars. Chris was told the gun was capable of extreme distances and as soon as he saw the Terminator appear at the door to the dining carriage, he aimed at the cyborg’s head and began firing.
A hail of bullets ripped from the barrel, startling Chris to no end since he was accustomed to cocking his gun after every shot. However, the momentary lapse was quickly hurdled, and Chris saw the bullets tear across the Terminator’s chest in quick succession. The force of the gunfire staggered the cyborg, and it recoiled into the door, shattering the glass in its retreat.
Not allowing it the chance to recover, Chris squeezed the trigger again. He was rewarded by seeing the Terminator jerking around like a puppet as multiple bullets tore its chest apart. An expanding stain of crimson stretched across those massive pectorals. The Terminator smashed through the doorway, swinging the wooden door, carried by the wind rushing past the train, outward. It leaned against the railing as it took a second to recover from the gunfire. However, the second no sooner elapsed when it was striding purposefully through the door of the dining car once again.
Chris knew when it was time to leave, and he stopped shooting immediately. He hurried through the rear access of the carriage and saw the Terminator running after him in full stride. The cyborg drew both guns drawn and was firing at him now, perhaps to return the favour of his earlier barrage. Chris kept his head down as he felt bullets whizzing past him. Some impacted on the wooden walls of the carriage, others shattered crockery resting neatly on the set dining tables.
It was open season on everything in the room, and no object escaped unscathed. Forks and knives spun on the table-clothed surfaces as projectiles brushed past them. Picture frames clattered to the floor, and the sound of breaking glass almost eclipsed the gunfire. The whole room was quickly transformed into a warzone as pieces of shattered ceramic covered the floor, becoming lost in fallen cutlery and the debris of splintered wood.
Chris could see it coming as the gunslinger ran down into another empty passenger car. He ducked into one of the private compartments as he heard the crash and clatter of the Terminator’s approach. Locking the door to the cubicle, a futile gesture Chris thought on reflection, he went to the picture window.
Glancing outside, he could see they were well on their way to the rendezvous point. Chris began to undo the lock when to his chagrin he found the mechanism was damaged and the window was not opening. The seconds ticked by as Chris wrestled with the uncooperative lock, trying to force it open when suddenly the Terminator was at the entrance to the compartment.
Chris remembered what Darien told him about getting into an enclosed space with the cyborg and immediately forgot about the window or the bad luck of it being jammed. The Terminator aimed at Chris and began firing; Chris ducked for cover as the bullets tore through the small space, shattering the glass window and tearing through the upholstered seats.
In a moment of absurdity, Chris found some satisfaction in the destruction of the window that cost him precious time. Beams of light started appearing through the bullet-ridden holes of the compartment as Chris stayed down and let the Terminator do its worst, knowing inevitably, the cyborg would come through the door to deal with him directly. After what he saw in the saloon, Chris had no intention of going hand to hand with the monster under any circumstances.
As expected, the Terminator entered the compartment and quickly located Chris. Chris scrambled to his feet to get away when the Terminator yanked him back by his duster. The human felt his head slam against the floor and a thousand colours flashed before his eyes in the stupor of disorientation. The warmth of blood ran down his forehead. Chris felt himself being dragged backwards by a firm grip and recovered enough to turn around to see what the Terminator was planning.
The cyborg had produced the shotgun with its other hand, with every intention of blowing a hole through Chris to fulfil its mission objective. Without thinking, Chris swung his gun at the Terminator and took careful aim. He had no concern as to where the others following it would go. He only cared about the initial projectile. The bullet penetrated the opening in the folds of the bandages wrapped around the Terminator’s head.
The cyborg released its grip of Chris as its hands instinctively clutched the optical sensor in its left eye when it was destroyed by the strength of a 45-calibre bullet. Chris wasted no time using the few seconds it would take for the Terminator to recover from this assault. With its huge form blocking the door of the compartment, Chris hurried towards the shattered window as he had initially intended.
Climbing through it, he fought the air rushing past him as he wrapped his fingers around the safety bars of the window, to shimmy to another compartment. He was pressed against the smooth steel of the train car while telegraph poles breezed past him. Resisting the urge to look down, he started the laborious journey to the next compartment, fighting the wind threatening to tear him away.
He had almost cleared the window when the Terminator appeared through the window and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" Chris swore and risked letting go of one of the bars to use his gun.
This time, he aimed point-blank into the cyborg’s face. It was indifferent to the danger or did not presume to believe it could be damaged. Chris did not care which and squeezed off a round nevertheless. The bullets slammed into the cyborg’s face although the thick endoskeleton deflected the projectiles, sending one straight into Chris’s arm.
Chris let out a groan of pain as the Terminator released its grip. The injury caused Chris to lose the grip of his gun, and the automatic was swept away by the wind. Chris was half-aware of it clattering down the tracks as he dangled precariously from the bar with one hand. Despite the pain, Chris knew he did not have much time. The Terminator was better at recovery than he was, and Chris bit down as he continued his advance to the next compartment.
*****"How long until they get here?" Nathan asked as he and Josiah finished their work of redirecting the train tracks.
They rode out of Eagle Bend some hours ago to reach this point and knew much hinged on completing this part of the plan. Chris’s strategy was tenuous at best, and not one of the seven liked the idea of what he planned. Unfortunately, they had to begrudgingly agree with Chris this situation had gone far enough. They understood he was motivated by hatred for the monster who robbed him and the woman he loved of their first child together, but they also knew despite their reservations, this was the best way.
Nathan, Josiah and JD reached Eagle Bend the afternoon before the Terminator’s arrival, while the rest of their number came later that night. Once they were together again, Chris outlined his audacious plan, basing everything on the supposition the Terminator would come by train since it couldn't ride after the reaction Peso’s reaction to the cyborg. Volunteering himself as bait, the plan was to lead the Terminator well away from Eagle Bend and Billy Travis before destroying the evil machine permanently.
"About twenty minutes I think," Josiah replied as he placed his large hands on the lever for switching tracks. With a sharp push forward, the lengths of steel slid into place and connected to the tarnished line overgrown with weeds and shrubs from years of neglect. The fork in the tracks curved away from the mainline and would continue into the mountains toward its ultimate destiny.
"I hope Chris can stay ahead of that thing," Nathan said, trying not to worry about their leader, even though Chris was extremely resourceful. However, none of them could ignore what Chris was fighting was no man, and while if it took a mechanical creature from the future to defeat him, Chris might have met his match.
"Well," Josiah said with a quiet sigh, staring into the horizon at the direction in which the unseen train would soon arrive. "We’ll know soon enough."
*****Instead of climbing into the second compartment where the Terminator was undoubtedly waiting for him, Chris decided to make his way forward using the roof. The wound on his arm ached painfully, and it took more time than he liked to make the crossing. However, this ensured the Terminator would not attempt to pull him back into the carriage again.
The thought no sooner crossed his mind, when the floor in front of him erupted outwards as bullets tore through the wood from inside the carriage. Bullet holes riddled the roof and snaked towards Chris with barely a moment to spare for him to flee. He was on his feet immediately, ignoring the pain in his arm and hoping the intensity of it did not mean he was seriously hurt.
Chris ran down the length of the carriage roof, just keeping ahead of the gunfire nipping at his heels. He reached the end of the carriage and took a deep breath as he leapt across the gap between cars and landed on his knees at the edge of the next vehicle. In turn, the Terminator reached the juncture and quickly assessed Chris was still on the roof before continuing with its current strategy.
When Chris heard the door opening on the carriage below, he resumed running again. The engine car of the locomotive was only three or four carriages away, and Chris could not allow the Terminator to disrupt Darien’s attempt to bring the train to its destination. Somehow, he had to think of a way to draw the Terminator away from that final carriage. Instead of running forward, Chris began backtracking to the carriage where one of Darien’s futuristic weapons waited. He knew the Terminator would immediately pick up the change of direction, but at this point, Chris did not have any choice in the matter.
Judging by where they were, Chris realized the train was due to change tracks in five minutes. Very soon, he would be able to catch sight of Josiah and Nathan if they played their part as instructed. His arm ached as Chris ran, but he was beyond caring. They were almost at the end of this nightmare, and he was not about to let a little pain hinder their progress.
Okay, so it was a bit more than a little pain.
With only a narrow margin of time to act, Chris jumped onto the platform leading inside the carriage he was attempting to reach. The car was allotted as a third-class carriage, with seats for passengers instead of private compartments. As Chris stepped inside, he saw the Terminator quickly making its way through the next carriage towards him.
Chris estimated no more than fifteen seconds before the cyborg reached him. He ducked behind the last seat and found the weapon nestled underneath it. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a rifle to Chris, but like the smaller version, had to be loaded with clips of at least twenty to thirty rounds, requiring nothing more than a single pull of the trigger to send a murderous hail of bullets in the direction desired.
Chris was going to hate returning it to Darien.
By the time the Terminator reached the doors, Chris was ready for it. Waiting until the cyborg entered the room, Chris started firing. Unlike a rifle, the weapon was not very loud, and it made a strange rat-tat-tat voice noise Chris found was strange to hear from a gun. There was no dramatic booming sound, but the delivery was nowhere as understated as its audio acoustics.
The rounds tore through the Terminator’s wounded and bleeding outer covering, creating spurts of blood with each entry. Chris saw flesh starting to shred off its skin as the bullets dug into its metallic shell. The fearsome hail forced the Terminator to retreat, but it did not take long before the cyborg was able to absorb the shots and resume the chase. There was never any sign of pain on its face despite the abuses received by its body. It looked at Chris impassively as ever, utterly mechanical in its expression. Its indifference infuriated the human to no end, and Chris fired again, wanting the continuous barrage of gunfire to hurt it in some way.
Josiah and Nathan appeared as the train sped past them. Their eyes searched the carriages, trying to see him, but the train was travelling too fast for that. He took note of the territory the train was entering and realized the time to keep the Terminator distracted was quickly dwindling. The locomotive had been diverted from the main track as Chris planned, taking the disused line leading through the rugged landscape. The frontier towns in this area dwindled away with the destruction of the bridge, and until it was repaired, those towns would remain in limbo.
Chris ran out of the carriage with the Terminator following close and firing. He felt a bullet graze his ear as he ran out of the car and scrambled up the rungs taking him to the roof once again. The Terminator did not waste its time with any half measures and climbed onto the roof after him, with no hesitation about shooting a man in the back.
It was a minor miracle Chris had avoided another bullet for as long as he had, but the miracles were about to run dry for him. Chris felt his leg give way as one of the Terminator’s projectiles sent waves of screaming pain through him when it penetrated the flesh of his thigh. He let out a soft grunt as he felt his knee hit the hard-wooden surface, with the instinctive knowledge he was hit badly.
Unfortunately, Chris did not have time to suffer the wound because if the Terminator reached him, an injured leg was going to be the least of his problems. Forcing himself to stand because the Terminator was gaining valuable ground, Chris started running again, feeling exquisite agony with each step forward. When he leapt across the gap, he barely made it, almost missed clearing the distance. The blood was starting to soak his trouser leg, and Chris knew he could bleed to death.
The Terminator was still behind, determined not to let him escape. Chris ran forward, noticeably slower as he limped painfully against the rush of the wind created by the speeding locomotive. As they passed the hills and took the track leading to the damaged bridge, Chris saw riders emerge from behind the rocky pass. There were just two of them, riding hard with horses in tow.
The arrival of Vin Tanner told Chris just how long he had until the train arrived at the bridge, which was not very long at all.
*****Vin saw Chris struggling to keep ahead of the Terminator, obviously injured, and knew without a doubt the monster would catch up with the gunslinger unless he and JD did something quickly. Fortunately, Vin did not have to tell the young man to act because JD was already pulling away and edging his horse alongside the locomotive. JD was easily the best rider among the seven, even if he was the youngest and hailed from the East. Years of dreaming of becoming a Wild West legend encouraged the boy to learn the discipline rigorously.
JD brought his mount along the side of the train and got as close to the Terminator as possible. The young man could see Chris struggling to maintain the pace of keeping ahead but the injuries were getting the best of him. JD drew his gun and started squeezing shots in the direction of Chris’s assailant. If what he was was true, the bullets would do very little harm to the thing, but at least it would distract it enough to let Chris widen the gap between them. The shots fired struck the side of the Terminator, which did little more than pause before turning sharply to JD. JD saw the huge man raise a shotgun in his direction.
"Watch out!" He heard Vin yelled, but JD was already ducking the blast that roared through the air. He did not know how close the shot had come to hitting him, but the roar seemed very close, and JD returned fire with the remaining shells in his gun. JD needed to slow down to reload but somehow guessed that time had almost run out. As he looked ahead, JD could see they were fast running out of land and track.
Chris had better make his move fast, or they were all going to have reason to regret it.
*****Chris saw the same thing JD did and using the distraction the young man provided, jumped onto the freight bin carrying the locomotive’s supply of coal. The Terminator was currently dealing with JD allowing Chris to use the railings on the side of the car to reach the engines. In the distance, he could see the bridge. From this angle, it was not possible to see it was incomplete, but Chris knew it wasn't. He had ridden through this area a few months ago and came across the damaged structure.
As Vin rode past him with the horses, Chris could see Buck and Darien emerging from the driver’s compartment. Buck’s face showed his worried expression, and Chris followed his gaze to see the Terminator was only a few feet behind him. By now Vin had brought the horse to the front of the train, somehow matching the pace as Buck and Darien prepared to dismount. The plan had been to wait until Chris joined them, but it was fast becoming apparent that would not happen.
"Chris!" Buck called out, urging him to hurry.
His injuries had cost him valuable time, but Chris was not about to let Buck and Darien pay for it with their lives. Maintaining his advance to the engines, Chris shouted... "Go!"
"We aren’t leaving you!" Buck shouted back in protest, realizing what Chris wanted him to do.
"NOW BUCK! NOW!" Chris fairly screamed against the roar of wind threatening to sweep him aside.
Buck gave him an anguished look as Vin urged them to hurry. Chris had no intention of dying, but if he jumped, the Terminator would follow, and this entire exercise would be for nothing. Chris had to stay until the very last moment. He saw Buck leap out of the driver’s compartment and land shakily on the horse.
"Larabee!" Darien cried out. "This is for nothing if you die!"
"Just go!" Chris ordered once more. Darien looked at him uncertainly but complied finally, jumping off the edge, to the horse waiting for him. As soon as the two men were away, the animals veered away from the train, and Chris let out a sigh of relief as he watched them fade into the distance.
Chris slid across the rail and finally reached the abandoned driver’s cabin. The furnace was closed, and the stench of smoke was heavy in the small compartment. Chris saw the approaching bridge and peered out the window to see exactly where the Terminator was at this point. The cyborg was clambering over the woodpile, oblivious to where the train was headed, only concerned with the fact that his target was finally within reach.
Chris saw the track moving into the framework of the incomplete bridge and stood poised at the edge of the compartment, keeping his eyes trained on the Terminator advancing forward. Chris waited until it had to climb off the woodpile to shimmy the rest of the journey when Chris saw the land before him start to dissolve.
It was now or never.
Closing his eyes and taking a leap of faith, Chris Larabee jumped. The Terminator’s head pivoted sharply in the direction of his descent when it suddenly realized what had happened. Unfortunately, the discovery came too late when the train reached the edge of the track and kept going. It was still considering its position when the train tumbled into the chasm. The juggernaut plunged into a free fall before the entire locomotive and carriages collapsed on top of each other, folding upon itself in a final dance of death.
When the earth finally reached up and claimed its prize, the loud explosion echoed through the canyon with a deafening roar. The shock wave sent tremors through the ground, making the land quake. A wall of flames jetted through the air, consuming everything in its path, wind, wood and metal until it curled into a column of black smoke.
Chris Larabee did not dare to move for a few seconds. Violent tremors moved through him following the train’s explosion. His body ached in a dozen places. His shoulder stung, not just from a bullet wound but also from a dislocated shoulder which had taken the brunt of his landing.
He remained where he was for a short time, letting his exhaustion overtake him momentarily before making an attempt to sit up. It was an action he regretted almost instantly, but Chris was compelled to satisfy his curiosity. With a loud groan, he rose to his feet unsteadily and staggered forward, expecting Vin and the others to appear soon enough.
Chris hobbled to the edge of the cliff and peered down into the canyon below. The ground beneath was an inferno of twisted metal and burning wood. The debris was spread over a large area of the canyon floor, but Chris could see nothing to indicate the Terminator was similarly destroyed. He did not think anything could have survived such a fiery end, but the past few days was one of surprises. The impossible seemed to have little meaning when it came to the matter of time travellers and machines thinking like men.
"You okay pard?" he heard Vin Tanner ask after the tracker rode up to him and dismounted. Behind him were Darien and the others.
Chris, who was clutching his shoulder and had a visible grimace on his features, offered the younger man a faint smile. With dirt and soot stuck to his skin with sweat and blood, Chris could only mutter a painful response. "I’ve been better."
"Did it go down with the train?" Vin asked, staring at the fiery wreckage below.
Chris nodded slowly. "All the way."
"Then it’s over." Vin met his gaze.
Chris stared at the burning heap of wood and steel, smelling the stench of heated oil and metal wafting through the air. He wondered if the warmth he felt was from the summer heat or could it really be the roast of the fiery wreck below. Was it over? Chris was unprepared to make that assumption just yet.
"We need to get down there," he said simply. "I need to see it before I can believe any of this is over with."
As always, Vin’s reaction to such a statement was little more than a raised brow.
"I reckon we better get going then." The tracker said quietly and continued watching the mesmerizing dance of flames consuming remnants of the locomotive below and hopefully the Terminator as well.
It took a little more than an hour to reach the bottom of the canyon to verify the Terminator was indeed dead. Chris needed to see it for himself or else he would never believe it was truly gone. He was unprepared to live the rest of his life, watching the shadows around Mary for signs of imminent danger. For her sake as well as his, Chris wanted there to be no doubts.
Despite Nathan’s protests, they took the steep path down the craggy terrain, their eyes continued to search the wreckage as they descended. The fire would eventually attract someone’s attention, so Chris wanted to do this now while they could still slip away anonymously.
"What a mess," JD exclaimed as they reached the floor of the canyon. The destruction was almost complete with debris spread over a wide area until there were smoking embers of steel cackling everywhere. It was hard to imagine all this twisted metal had once been the main form of transport between Sweetwater and Eagle Bend.
"Just keep an eye open," Chris warned as he stood still long enough for Nathan to examine the wound on his leg once again. The healer wanted him off his feet immediately, not hobbling about the place searching for mechanical phantoms. Chris’s injuries were severe, but nothing Nathan could say was able to influence Chris Larabee once he set his mind on something.
"I better stick with him then," Josiah remarked, knowing just how young and eager JD could be when it came to rushing into trouble. The young man had a keener scent of getting himself into strife than anyone the preacher had ever met. For some reason, Josiah felt as if JD was a lamb in his flock that required special tending, and as one of his shepherds, he was obligated to keep an eye on him.
"Good idea." Chris offered Josiah a knowing smile. They were all accustomed to JD’s naivete by now.
"Selma," Darien spoke. "Are you picking up any signs of artificial neural patterns?" The seven fanned out, keeping the wreckage under close scrutiny. It was hard to spot movement when there was so much damage and heat. In fact, Darien did not like remaining in the vicinity because the air was almost toxic.
"None Captain," Selma replied. "However, it is difficult to ascertain an accurate reading with the surface temperature being what it is."
"I understand." Darien frowned, his eyes moving past the demolished carriages whose remains were burning steadily in the late morning heat.
"Could it have survived the fall?" Buck asked Darien since his descendant from the future seemed to have all the answers lately.
Despite his aloof manner, Buck knew Darien did not loathe him or what he was. Darien’s fear came from the unanswered questions about his own life, and Buck could appreciate what it meant to be finally in reach of that desire. In some ways, Buck felt protective towards Darien, feeling a desire to remain close to the man because Darien was his legacy to the world. Whether or not he knew it, Darien had become proof of Buck Wilmington’s belief his life would mean something to someone, and there would be children in his future. It was a good feeling.
"I doubt it." Darien shook his head. "Titanium or not, that was almost a hundred-foot drop riding the tail of a locomotive. The shock wave alone should have vaporized it." Darien was probably exaggerating, but Buck seemed to have an idea of what he was talking about. "However, we are talking about technology I’ve never seen before, so it’s anyone’s guess."
"What about that fancy machine you got there," Buck remarked, indicating Selma. "She seems to know quite a bit."
"I’ve asked." Darien smiled, wondering how Selma would have taken the description. "The heat from the fire is making it difficult to tell."
"You really should be off this leg." Nathan reminded Chris. He and Vin were following Chris closely as the gunslinger limped around the periphery of the blaze, trying to see more than just shards of twisted metal and flaming wood in the fiery heap.
"Nathan, you sound like my mother. Stop clucking."
Nathan stiffened in annoyance. "Well, don’t you come running to me if your leg doesn’t work right later."
"In that case, he won’t be running anywhere," Vin said with a faint smile that received a scathing look from Nathan.
Anything else Chris was going to say was interrupted when there was a sudden creak of metal directly in front of him. Chris saw the heaving of a steel girder, shifting position as something forced it away. The length of iron tumbled aside with a loud clang and immediately brought the others running towards Chris’s side. He held his ground, listening carefully to the sounds of something beneath the debris burrowing towards him.
The Terminator appeared. What was left of it anyway.
Its outer covering of skin was completely gone now, and the seven found themselves facing a monstrosity of metal with one glowing red eye. It crawled towards Chris, pulling itself along the ground since it could no longer stand. Both its legs and one arm had been completely detached, wires and conduits bleeding fluid and sparks as it struggled to complete its directive even in this damaged state. What was left of its destroyed microprocessor still identified Chris as the enemy. Chris stared at it dispassionately, allowing himself to feel the hatred he had been keeping inside since he found out about Mary.
"Vin," Chris replied, never taking his eyes off the beast in its pitiful advance.
"Yeah, Chris?" Vin asked, staring at the thing with something akin to horror and disgust. In fact, they were all looking at it with similar shades of distaste. Until now, they only pictured the Terminator as a man, walking, talking and breathing, capable of taking several bullet wounds, but nevertheless, it appeared in their minds as something human.
Not any more.
"Vin," Chris spoke again, snapping Vin out of his observation. "You got the dynamite?"
"Yeah," Vin nodded and strode away to his horse to retrieve the explosives Chris asked him to purchase while they were in Eagle Bend last night. Despite the weapons Darien was kind enough to provide, Chris wanted the use of something familiar.
Vin handed him the cylindrical length of explosive when the tracker returned. The Terminator was only a few yards from Chris, but judging by its state, it was incapable of harming anyone now. Still, it was not wise to take chances.
Chris hobbled forward, meeting the cyborg halfway. It made a weak attempt to grab his leg, but Chris slammed his uninjured foot against the metal hulk’s wrist and ground it into the dirt, imprisoning it where it was. Bending down slightly, Chris lit the stick of dynamite as the Terminator snapped its head upward to look at him. The destroyed optic sensor gaped open at Chris through a dark eye socket. Jamming the explosive into the open orifice, Chris lit the fuse and stepped back as it started to burn with a loud hiss.
Chris had parting words for the cyborg in an instant before its destruction.
"Terminate this."
With that, the cyborg’s skull exploded.
Metal chunks flew in all directions, pieces of a central processor and other integrated chips far beyond the capability of the nineteenth and twentieth-century technology, rained down around their ears as fragments of alien metal. The exoskeleton was blown apart completely, pieces scattering over a wide area in a smoking mess. Chris shook a piece of debris from his duster before turning his back on it and said with a quiet whisper.
"That was for Mary."
After the seven collected the remains of the Terminator and buried them deep beneath the earth within that desolate canyon, Darien knew his time in the nineteenth century was at an end. As much as he cared about the people here, he was not of this time, and his continued presence could be as dangerous to the timeline as the Terminator itself.
Injecting himself with the modified TXP pellet Sahmbi provided for his return journey home, Darien hoped the drug would do everything Sahmbi claimed it would. He was still unable to take the doctor on faith, even though without Sahmbi's help, the future would have died in the making.
Fortunately, the quick death Darien feared never came, and he authorized Selma to send the transmission to bring him home. He had no idea how long it would take before he dissolved into nothingness, transformed into a matter stream riding the temporal waves to the twentieth century. Thus, Darien chose to say his goodbyes before that moment, not wishing to leave things unsaid. Most of all, he wanted to speak to Buck Wilmington, who was no doubt his ancestor and had given him something precious, Darien never expected to gain in his wildest imaginings.
An identity.
It was quite a sobering experience to know you were not just a Caucasian or a Blanco but also an American, with ancestors who originated in the untamed frontiers of the west. If he chose, he could trace his family tree from Buck Wilmington all the way to his parents, whoever they might be. Perhaps he would do that someday after he got home, but now, Darien was comfortable with what he already knew, and leave the rest a mystery for a while. It brought a smile to his face, knowing he had at the very least found himself in time, instead of fleeing it.
"I better get this over and done with," Darien remarked as he and Buck rode side by side while they took the steep climb out of the canyon. He had been saying his farewells as they continued along the trail, uncertain when he would vanish back to his own time.
"Kinda spooky you just disappear like that." Buck pointed out. "Inconvenient too."
"Yeah, I'm used to it. I disappear a lot, even in the twentieth century." He stared into the unspoiled beauty of the land before them. Even with the pyre of the locomotive burning at the bottom of the canyon, it maintained a serene quality that would be gone by the time the twentieth century claimed it.
"I kind of guessed that." Buck nodded, unable to ignore the underlying sadness living inside Darien Lambert. He sensed loneliness in the man, which made Buck grateful for the friends in his life. "Maybe, you ought to let go of her."
Darien met his gaze. "She's the reason I decided to do this."
"I don't think she'd want you to spend your life in mourning." Buck looked at him thoughtfully.
"I'm not mourning." Darien began to protest and saw the knowing look in Buck's face. "Perhaps just a little ."
"A man can only spend so many years dreaming of what might have been before it takes its toll and you find your life has slipped by, without you even living it. I hate to think any of my kin going through that."
Darien smiled at Buck's use of the word 'kin'. It brought warmth to his soul to hear someone considered him family, even in this time. "I promise I will get back on the horse."
"Now you're talking, and if I might add, getting yourself some female company ain't such a bad idea either. You got to sow your wild oats a little."
Darien could only shake his head in resignation. While he had not been celibate since Elyssa's death, Darien could not womanize the way Buck did. Buck made it seem like an art, if even half the stories JD told him were true. "Do we have rabbit somewhere in our family tree? Besides I thought you and Inez were an item."
"She hasn't succumbed to my charms yet, but she will."
"I am really hoping she doesn't end up being my great, great, great grandmother or something."
"Why?" Buck looked at him in confusion. "She's a fine lady."
"Exactly, I just hate to think what you're going to put her through."
****
Finally, Darien reached Chris Larabee, the reason he made this journey into the past, to begin with. In some ways, he was grateful to Larabee for all the things he gained on this trip. He just wished it had not been at the cost of an unborn child. History decreed Chris and Mary would raise a few children whose progeny would produce a Caesar into the world when it needed one the most. However, the little footnotes in history sounded shallow, considering the heartache they were now feeling.
Chris was sitting straight in the saddle despite his injuries. It was hard to know what was on the man's mind half the time. He was, in Darien's opinion, one of the most challenging people to read. It was easy to understand where John's presence originated after meeting Chris Larabee. Darien admired him greatly, admired his strength, and most of all, the quiet patience in which he attacked a problem. Not many men would have placed themselves in danger to destroy the Terminator, but Darien had a feeling Chris found no difficulty making such decisions daily.
"I'm liable to disappear at any time," he said as he reached Chris. "I thought I'd make my goodbyes while I still can."
Chris looked at him and nodded. "When do you think you will get taken?"
Darien shook his head in response. "I have no idea. It will be soon enough. No more than a day for certain."
Chris stared at the road ahead before speaking once more. "Thank you for what you did."
"You did most of it." Darien returned quickly. "I just told you what was coming."
"You saved my life in the saloon," Chris said firmly, in a manner that tolerated no argument on this point. "I would have died then if you hadn't come along."
"I did it for myself as much as I did it for you Chris," Darien answered, feeling embarrassed by the sentiment since it was just as much in his favour Chris Larabee lived. "If you died, I'd have nothing to go back to."
"Learn to take a compliment." Chris smiled, eyes still fixed on the trail ahead.
Darien laughed softly. "You're welcome."
"What will you do when you go back?" Chris inquired, genuinely interested. In the past two days, he had come to see Darien as someone who could have been a friend, the way Buck was. Although they were poles apart, Chris could see the same personality underlying the experiences of each other's lives.
"The same thing I always do," Darien answered, thinking about the fifty to sixty fugitives still escaping justice in the twentieth century. Granted he had help now, but it was still a difficult task he set himself for the sake of the promise he made to Elyssa. "Find them and send them back to the twenty-second century."
"Do you go back when you're done?"
Darien stared at him, wondering where Larabee was going with this line of inquiry. While he was presented with many questions in the past two days from the others, Chris showed very little interest in what the future held. Darien could understand that he supposed, considering how Chris was unwillingly privy to more about his future than any man should know.
"No," he answered truthfully because he was sure Chris would spot it if he lied. "I don't think I will. I like the twentieth century, rough and tumble as it is. There's still a little mystery left in the world."
Chris nodded. "This woman named Sarah. What's she like?"
"Sad," Darien said without hesitation. "Lots of memories of things that never happened, but she remembers. Now the Terminator is gone, things should be back to normal. My timeline would have restored itself, and there won't be any Judgement Day. Kyle Reese will be born in about ten years, and he won't have any idea what he meant to her."
"My wife was called Sarah," Chris admitted quietly. "I hate to think of your Sarah is alone with a son, the way mine was when I lost them."
"She's a strong woman. Strongest one I've met."
"So was my wife, but I'd still appreciate it if you kept an eye on them. It feels kind of right, you doing it. Buck loved Adam like he was his own. I never realized until later how much it hurt him too when they died."
"I can do that for you." Darien agreed, intending to do so anyway, even if Sarah did not remember him. "If you do me the favour of seeing to it Buck doesn't get himself killed by an angry husband."
Chris laughed softly. "I've been doing that since I met him. I don't think I'll be quitting now." He paused a moment and then turned to Darien, meeting the man's gaze for the first time. "It's been a pleasure knowing you Darien. I mean it."
"Well," Darien sighed, trying not to let the emotions get the better of him. "I won't forget anyone of you that's for sure, and I think I'll even miss you."
Chris believed he meant it and wished a happier life for this man from the future. Chris did not add the same sadness Darien perceived in Sarah Connor was also reflected in his own eyes. The gunslinger knew personally what it was like to endure the loss he saw in Darien's eyes and hoped someday, Darien would meet someone who could take that emptiness away.
Otherwise, the future was a cold place already.
****Darien Lambert disappeared out of their lives as abruptly as he had entered it.
They were almost back to Eagle Bend when suddenly he vanished into thin air, leaving only his horse behind as it looked at them, confused by the sudden disappearance of its rider. He shimmered away into nothingness, leaving them all gaping in astonishment with the final proof of what he told them. Until now, the concept of time travel and alternate universes had an unreality about it.
As Darien Lambert disappeared before their eyes, the world expanded for all of them. They would never speak of what they saw today, choosing to interpret the extraordinary events in their own personal way. The world for them would never quite feel the same. It would go on in familiar patterns, but they would all know the existence of things unseen and how it could affect everything.
****"Are you coming up to the infirmary or not?" Nathan Jackson eyed Vin Tanner critically.
Although Vin had broken some ribs less than a week earlier, Nathan was unable to get the tracker back for a further examination. With all the activity Vin was forced to do after sustaining the injury, riding from one end of the Territory to the other, fleeing pursuit, Nathan was concerned the ribs might need additional treatment. Unfortunately, convincing Vin of this, was a feat in itself.
"I told you, Nathan," Vin said in that quiet manner of his. "I don't need any more doctoring."
Except for Chris Larabee and Ezra Standish, the seven were aiding with the repairs to the saloon. At the moment, Vin was more concerned about conducting repairs to a broken table rather than his own ribs. A situation that did not at all please the healer.
"I ain't gonna let you slither out of this Vin." Nathan continued to persist when suddenly, his gaze moved up the steps, where Ezra was currently making his way down followed by Alex who seemed almost as perturbed as Nathan.
"You've got to take it easy, Ezra," Alex said exasperated. "You have a cracked skull, you shouldn't be moving at all."
"My dear Alexandra," Ezra sighed as he descended, head still swathed in bandages. "I am capable of overseeing some of the work being conducted on this establishment. I will not leave it in the hands of these heathens."
"Why thank you Ezra," Josiah remarked from where he was mending the bullet holes in the walls with a mixture of mortar. "I knew you'd appreciate the help."
"No offence intended," Ezra said in that charming manner of his, although the effect was not as dramatic in his current condition. "I simply meant you lack the necessary refinement to envision this place in the grandeur I do."
Alex met Josiah's gaze, and they both rolled their eyes in shared sarcasm.
"I got better things to do than clean up here you know," JD added with similar annoyance.
The young man was currently sweeping out the debris covering almost every inch of floor space inside the saloon. Everything from glass shards, to plaster and splinters of wood, made up the heap, which was now his responsibility to clean. Pushing a broom was not the most exciting way for JD to spend an afternoon, especially after hearing Ezra’s sniping.
"I told Casey I'd go up and help her on the farm for a few days until Nettie's on her feet."
"Don't worry," Alex glared at Ezra for his rudeness. "When I get him back upstairs, I'll try to replace the part of his brain that lets him say exactly what's on his mind."
"If you get him back up at all," Josiah said with a smile. "Counting today, it's been almost four days since Ezra's had a decent game of cards. Didn't you tell me you wanted some challenge in your poker?"
Alex frowned and stared at him with an accusing eye. "I've been playing cards with you!"
Ezra looked at Josiah through narrowed eyes while the preacher wore a satisfied smirk before turning back to the wall he was currently working on. "Now Alexandra," Ezra started to explain amidst JD's laughter in the background. "Mr Sanchez may have misinterpreted my meaning."
"I'll bet. You can make it up to me if you go back upstairs for a few more days."
"I am not that apologetic. What is it with you healers? Rest is for the weary. I am not weary nor in any need of further medical aid."
"You said it." Vin agreed, meeting Nathan's gaze as if to prove the point he was not going to any infirmary to have any ribs examined again. As far as he was concerned, he was well and truly on the mend.
Nathan stood up and went to Alex.
"I've got a plan." He stared at the young doctor who merely nodded, instantly knowing what Nathan intended.
"I'm with you." She answered with her arms folded, staring at both impossible patients with a set look about her. "You get Ezra upstairs, and I will take care of Mr Tanner's ribs."
"A nice neat trade." Nathan grinned as he took a step towards Ezra, who knew the healer was not above slinging him over his shoulder if necessary.
"Wait a minute…" Vin replied as he saw Alex taking a step forward in his direction. He was not letting her put her hands anywhere on his body. No matter how much he might enjoy the sensation.
"You have another suggestion?" Alex met the tracker's gaze and then shifted to Ezra's.
Ezra and Vin exchanged glances before Vin stood up a second later and turned towards Nathan. "Let's go." He replied, unabashed in his resentment. The healer could only grin as he followed the reluctant tracker through the swing doors.
"Shall we?" Alex offered Ezra her sweetest smile as she waited for him to move.
"You have won this round." He returned with a frown. "I assure you, you will not win the next."
"Whatever," she shook her head and received looks of sympathy from both Josiah and JD respectively as they started slowly towards the stairs again. "What shall we play? Go fish or old maid?"
"Oh God….' Ezra could only groan. "I have died and gone to hell."
****Buck Wilmington was quiet throughout all this. He was deep in thought, his mind still wondering about the possibilities Darien Lambert's presence opened for him. For the first time in his life, Buck looked at his future seriously. He knew now he would marry and have children someday. At least Buck hoped he was married first. He could not help wondering if, in all his sexual encounters, he had already sown the seeds for Darien's existence. Or was he yet to do so?
He worked on the bar quietly, contemplating deep thoughts about all the women he slept throughout his life, wondering if he ever left any of them in a family way without his knowing. There were so many, it was hard to place a name to every one of them. He wished he could have been able to find out from Darien for certain but it was impossible now. Besides, he still believed that some part of his future ought to surprise him.
"You're quiet." Inez broke into those silent thoughts from the other end of the counter, where she was at present, clearing the broken bottles and replacing them with new stock.
Buck looked up at her, distracted. "I guess. I was just thinking."
"About Darien?" She guessed accurately. Inez could not deny seeing two men with the exact same face was disconcerting, especially when they were so different.
"How did you guess?"
"If I met a relative from the future, I would be a little lost in thought as well." She offered him an understanding smile.
"He was very different, wasn't he?" Buck sighed, wondering if he could have been the same way if circumstances were different.
"A lot of things shaped his life Buck," Inez pointed out. She saw the expression on Buck's face and found herself adding. "Although I thought he was a bit straight and narrow for me. I would have liked him to be a little louder." She offered him one of those smiles that could melt him where he stood.
"Does that mean we can do a little something tonight?" He waggled his brows at her.
"Hold your horses, Senor." She said with that stern voice of hers indicating he had gone too far again. "I didn't mean that as an invitation."
One of these days, Buck suspected, he would not go too far, and it was a day he looked forward to with great anticipation.
"You wound me, darling." He grinned, feeling a little better. He did so hope Darien Lambert was going to be a product of their relationship. Whenever he looked at Inez, he always had a feeling it was meant to be, if such things were possible.
"WILMINGTON!" A loud voice tore through the bar. Buck's eyes followed the sound to the doors and found his eyes widening at the sight of Jasper Cray, glaring at him.
"Oh shit!" Buck swore as he saw the hulk coming towards him.
"The back door is open!" Inez suggested quickly, pointing him in the direction of her kitchen. Buck gave her a hasty kiss on the cheek before bolting for dear life. No sooner had he began running than Jasper Cray was rumbling after him.
"I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU WILMINGTON!"
Inez shook her head and thought with a sigh that he was a rogue, but he was her rogue.
God was having a lot of fun at her expense.
****Today she woke up and decided she was going to live.
For a while there, Mary Travis had not been so sure. They returned to Four Corners last night, even though she was very sore, and Chris had not at all been eager to let her make the trip. However, Mary would risk the journey because she needed to be at home, and after some convincing by Alex, who liked the idea even less but understood the need was therapeutic, convinced Chris it was the best thing for her.
It was funny, Mary thought on the ride back. Two years ago, she believed her life to be devoid of people, even though there were many faces. Now there was Chris, Inez, who was her best friend and Alex who was fast becoming another. Suddenly, her son was not the sole member of her family any more. Her circle was expanding.
Chris was right, she was never alone.
She mourned the child that might have been, and she was far from recovered at its loss, but she could accept there would be more children in her future, Darien told her so. If anything, this child proved to her just how much she had by its loss, not how little. Inside, Mary prayed there was a heaven, and her little baby was there at this moment, doing all the things stolen before its life even began. Wherever it was, she hoped it knew the sparkle of magic it brought to her life and its father's, even briefly.
As far as Four Corners was concerned, a terrible outlaw now captured by the seven was responsible for her injuries. No one outside the circle knew about the baby, not even Nettie and Casey. Mary preferred it remained that way. She wanted her grief to be private, so she returned home to the safety of her house to hide away until she was ready to face the world again.
Both Inez and Alex had come by earlier, even Nathan dropped in to see how she was faring. If it was not for the impropriety of it, Mary might have been tempted to let Chris remain in the house with her, reputation be damned.
It was not something he would allow her to sacrifice, no matter how defeated she felt. Thus, her best friends had made themselves available because Chris was in little shape to do much himself, considering what the gunslinger endured to kill that metal monstrosity. Mary knew he was shot at least twice, had a dislocated shoulder and numerous cuts and bruises he received after jumping from a moving train.
It was late morning when Chris finally made his appearance. He was staying at the saloon while he was convalescing, and she knew after the hard ride yesterday, he would probably sleep in. Mary remembered their exchange at the Indian village and how Chris tried to remain at her side every day since the seven's return from Eagle Bend. It warmed her inside to know he was not lying when he told her she would not endure this sorrow alone.
For she knew in his own way, he grieved for their child too.
She remained in bed most of the morning with no real inclination to leave it when she heard Chris tapping at the door to her bedroom. Stil, in her nightgown, Mary saw him peering through the doorway with an uncertain expression on his face.
"You can come in." She sighed, meeting his gaze with a shadowy smile.
With everything else she was feeling, Mary was in no mood for Chris treating her like a porcelain doll. True, she felt fragile, but she needed him more than anyone else now and was somewhat surprised he still believed he could hurt her by his mere presence. In Mary's opinion, when a man fought a mechanical beast from the future by becoming the worm at the end of a hook, it gave the woman in his life an idea about his reliability.
He could be so thick sometimes.
"I missed you.”
Chris dropped his duster on a chair as he entered the room, limping slightly. She could not see the bandages but knew that his arm and shoulder were still tender from his injuries. He moved forward a little stiffer than usual before coming towards the edge of her bed. Instinctively, Mary slid over as she had done numerous times when he slipped in the covers in the dead of night. He took the gesture as an invitation to join her. Chris nestled into a comfortable position allowing her to rest her head against his chest while accommodating her broken arm.
"How are you feeling Mary?" He asked quietly, breathing the heavenly scent of her hair into his lungs. It was not so long ago on that terrible ride from Eagle Bend, he believed he lost her forever. Chris was never more grateful for anything than when he found she was still alive.
"I'm okay." She assured him softly, drawing more comfort from his warmth next to her than anything else at this moment. What was this power he had over her? Mary was sometimes at a loss to understand how merely being with him could be so fulfilling, even in the face of such terrible loss. "I'll be up and around in a few days, Alex tells me."
"That's not what I asked." He answered, stroking the golden strands of her hair. It soothed her to no end and allowed her to drift away.
"I know." She admitted a little guiltily. "I feel like we've lost something precious, something that comes only once in a lifetime."
He raised her chin and looked at her. "We did lose something precious Mary," he agreed, deciding he would not lie to her. "But it's not the end of the world, and someday, we may find it again."
"I keep thinking of all the things the baby might have been." She tried to keep her emotions from descending her into another fit of tears. She had not really stopped crying for any length of time in days. Each time, such thoughts came to mind, it also brought the full torrent of sorrow back with mind-numbing clarity. She knew it was natural that such feelings would not disappear overnight, and it would take time to heal, but she hated being so vulnerable. It was not what she was about.
"Me too," Chris whispered, thinking about the child who would remain nameless forever. "I keep thinking about how much like you I would like it to have been. I was thinking of a little girl with your hair." He looked at the flaxen strands in his fingers and relished its feel against his skin. He felt a pang of grief and pleasure at the same time and wondered how such paradoxes could exist.
"Or a boy with your eyes." She added sadly, biting her lip to suppress her tears.
"It will happen someday, Mary." Chris held her close. "I promise you."
And as they lay there together, watching the blue sky outside her window, Mary was almost ready to believe him because Chris was right about one thing.
The future was not set. It was what they made of it.
****7th February 1997 – 7 am EST
Darien Lambert found himself peering through the picture window of the florist shop called Sarah's Place in the same location he left it only a short week ago. She was working behind the counter with her roses and her petunias, creating a display no doubt destined for someone who liked the scent of both.
She looked no different than she had the first moment he laid eyes on her, trimming rose stems while dreaming of things not so mundane in her hazel eyes. The sadness remained, but so was the picture of John Connor hanging on the wall behind her. Everything inside the place appeared as it did the first time he saw it and the only question burning in his mind was whether she would remember him.
Time righted itself because Darien returned to an empty warehouse in the middle of the Nevada desert. Instead of returning to the same time as when he left, it was a full week since his journey to the nineteenth century. Darien realized Sahmbi planned it this way to give himself ample time to remove the TRAX control device and all his operations to a different location.
Sahmbi kept his word to bring Darien home to the twentieth century as promised, but he was not about to risk Darien knowing any more than necessary about his business. Darien did not mind really. After his days in the past, he had no intention of embarking on another ordeal trying to bring his arch-nemesis to justice. In fact, when he finally managed to get a ride to the nearest town, since Sahmbi had not left him any transportation to get back to civilization upon his return, all Darien was interested in was a shower and Chinese takeaway.
He needed real food and his sneakers.
Upon satisfying those first two essential requirements, Darien ordered Selma to give him a current report on the status of Miles Bennett Dyson. If Dyson still lived, then whatever they did in Four Corners was for nothing. Skynet might still bring about Judgement Day in a scant six months.
It was almost with a held breath Darien learnt Miles Dyson died three years before at the Cyberdyne building. Through the same network he used to contact Sahmbi earlier, Darien sent the doctor the message their temporary partnership had succeeded. The timeline was restored and the twenty-second century should be similarly intact.
He sent that message and another informing Sahmbi the détente between them was over. Their cat and mouse game would resume as soon as he took care of some personal business. To ensure the twenty-second century was where he left it, Darien communicated with his commander through the classifieds. The next day, he found a lone cigar in the ladies room of the Smithsonian with an attached note.
CAN'T YOU BUY YOUR OWN?
So now he was standing outside the window of the florist shop in Reseda, staring at Sarah Connor and her flowers.
"Captain," Selma spoke up. "You have been standing here for three minutes already."
"I'm picking my moment" he hissed at her quietly. "Since when were you my alarm clock?"
Suddenly, a new voice interrupted them by clearing its throat.
Sarah Connor was standing before him, looking at Darien with an expression on her face he could only call annoyed. With a sinking feeling, he realized she did not recognize him and that discovery, hurt more than it should have. Darien supposed he should not be surprised. The possibility loomed in his mind even though he did not want to entertain it. Perhaps, he could get to know her again, without a crisis in time hampering their relationship…
Sarah's hands went to her hips as she let out a sigh and met his gaze critically.
"You just going to stand there gawking at me or are you going to come in and tell me where the hell you've been all week, Darien?"
"Sarah?" Darien stammered once he understood she knew exactly who he was. According to the date, it was about a week since they shared dinner together. With his disappearance and everything, she was naturally upset, considering what he told her about Skynet. He was so pleased she knew who he was Darien did not even care if Sarah was mad at him.
She was staring at him impatiently, trying to decide why he was lingering outside her door like a tourist. Probably trying to find some way of explaining where he had disappeared to all week. She hoped he had a very good excuse. Despite herself, she had a good feeling about Darien Lambert, no matter how strange he could sometimes be. They were strangers in time, and Sarah liked the idea of having someone who understood what she had been through in her life. Since his absence, she tried not to assume the worst, a Terminator had killed him. However, his being here now seemed to disprove that theory.
"You know," she shook her head, wondering what his strange behaviour was all about. "You really shouldn't talk to that thing in public. Someone might lock you up."
Darien Lambert could only grin as he followed her inside convinced, at last, he had finally come home.
THE END