Epilogue:
Men
Like Us
Nathan Jackson was quiet.
The black man, who had been giving orders about so prodigiously at the Seminole village earlier in the week, seemed far more sedate and introspective now that they were away from it. Around the campfire where the seven were gathered, Nathan had barely said a word, his dark eyes fixed into the fire as he carried on an even deeper conversation with his thought than could be produced with the companions present. In the chatter of voices around him, Nathan was a vacuum. Occasionally, someone would say something louder than the accepted octave of voices speaking and he would raise his eyes to the men with whom he was keeping company. A flicker of puzzlement would follow for the barest hint of an instance where he appeared to be wondering who were these men who had suddenly come into his life. Was it almost a week ago that he had almost been strung up by a group of Texans who accused him of murder? It seemed like a lifetime away and his mind still had trouble processing all of it.
Chris Larabee observed all these things in equal silence as he worked his way steadily through the bottle of whiskey he had in his hands. He was not quite drunk enough to doze off just yet but he was getting close. He continued his scrutiny of his new companions, enjoying their chatter, occasionally emerging from his silence long enough to make a comment before withdrawing again to enjoy it continue without him. Chris had a good idea why Nathan was so silent and it had little to do with the fact that somehow he had gone from being one to seven in a matter of days. It had to do with the lovely young woman Nathan had left to join them when they had departed from the village after fighting the renegade confederate army led by one Colonel Emmet Riley Anderson. Rain and Nathan had become quite close during the week it took for the seven, hired by the desperate inhabitants of the village, to deal with Anderson once and for all. Chris believed that though the connection between them was new, the a ffection that held it together was not. There were some women that simply engendered that kind of reaction from a man and time had little or no say in the matter.
Thinking that led him to other places in his own memories, through winding corridors where whispers and smells dragged him unwillingly into thoughts he should not have, recollections he wanted no part of. Closing his eyes, Chris slammed the door on those memories and on that life, wishing not to revisit old agonies even though it marked every thing that he was. Sucking in his breath, he quashed the inevitable resurgence of pain that came with any memory of his dead wife and son, pressing the issue by taking another swing from the bottle in his hand. The liquid pacified the memory for the time being but Chris was soon taking another sip and then another, until the pain dulled to manageable levels and he could think of anything but the past. When he blinked and found himself returned to the present, he found Vin Tanner staring at him.
Their eyes met for the briefest amount of time, enough for Chris to seem in the depths of the younger man's blue eyes, not pity as one might been mistakenly led to believe but rather understanding. The contact between their gazes lasted no more than a split second but Chris could tell that here was someone who instinctively knew what he was thinking, who understood without his every needing to say the words that it was alright, no explanation was needed because he could see. This connection between them mystified Chris to say the least. A week ago, Chris Larabee had come to the dusty town of Four Corners, expecting nothing but a drink and a bed for the night before he moved on to the next town, searching for that elusive bullet he hoped would bring about his end.
He had not thought much of the store clerk that had been sweeping the floor outside the local hardware store when the trouble had started. There was nothing to capture one's attention really. He was young, a little rough around the edges and appeared to unbelievably bored with what he was doing, even if he did wear the demeanor of someone who had expected that this was how things had to be and accepted it without complaint. Then those Texans had dragged Nathan into view, preparing to hang him for imagined offences and something quite amazing had happened. Chris gazed across the street and their eyes had met and in an instant, it was almost as if they were speaking to each other without using any words.
I ain't gonna let this happen.
I reckon you wouldn't.
I'm gonna stop this.
I reckon you will at that.
Want to help me?
They had saved Nathan and in doing so, something extraordinary had happened though for the life of him Chris could not imagine what game fate was playing with him, even now. The stranger, whose name was Vin Tanner, reminded Chris Larabee so much of the person he had been long before meeting Sarah and the tragedy that had twisted him so out of shape that it was almost uncanny. They understood each other because they were almost the same person inside, different only because of time and circumstances. When he and Vin had walked to the cemetery at which the Texans were preparing to hang Nathan, it felt as if something inside, devoid and empty for too long was filled. Something inside him clicked into place and Chris did not understand it, knowing only that it was Vin who caused it.
After Vin, he had found Buck Wilmington again. When he had first seen Buck, Chris could not deny that he had been ashamed to face his old friend. Buck had pulled him up by the boot straps when Sarah and Adam had died, had kept him from taking the easy way out and God help him, until this day he did not know whether or not he should be grateful for that fact. Dying might have been the more merciful alternative than living without them. Buck had disappeared out of his life once he had ensured Chris would not kill himself, realizing with sadness that saving his friend's life has resulted in losing their friendship. Chris had felt ashamed because he had known Buck was in town and had no intention of looking him up. He did not wish to see the old friend and be reminded of all that he had lost.
He glanced at Buck across the fire and saw his old friend talking to the boy that had entered all their lives this past week. Buck was still recovering from being run through with a sword by Anderson and caught his gaze for a moment. Chris smiled just a little and Buck said nothing to that effect, letting his emotions express themselves with that wide, infectious grin that had the power to lift the spirit no matter how dour a mood Chris was in, before he returned to his conversation. Chris was glad that Buck was alive and more specifically here. He did not know how he would regard his friend after all that had happened between them but he supposed that time would find someway to explain it to him in due course. For the moment at least, Buck's attention was focused on JD and imparting some supposedly useful information on the boy.
Chris stared at JD for a second and wondered if he had ever been that young?
The kid was nine kinds of trouble wrapped up in one over enthusiastic package. He was peppered with all the follies of youth, hot tempered, impulsive and inquisitive beyond sensibility but for some reason, he had grown on all of them. He was damned good with a gun although Chris tended to think he needed a little more practice in understanding when a weapon ought to be drawn and despite the contradiction of his Eastern upbringing, was an extremely good rider. However, Chris was not entirely certain how he was going to take that look of adoration and near hero worship that JD was always sending his way. Chris did not think he was anything to be admired but he supposed to a boy, who had grown up on dime store novels about infamous gunmen and pistoleers, Chris might seem the quintessential expression of that love. Fortunately, Buck had taken it upon himself to set the boy straight about what it was to survive in the West and in turn, Chris just hoped that lesson would not include Buck Wilmingt on's patented 'way to get the ladies'.
Josiah Sanchez tried not to show that his injuries hurt him and as he sat watching the fire, his broad silhouette against the twilight horizon, he appeared like the mountains themselves, unmoving and forever. Chris found that he liked the older man considerably and he was not a person who took to people with any ease but then Josiah was not just any people. The former preacher had the same glint of sadness in his eyes that spoke something as tragic in his past as Chris' own and had he not understood how intimate such pains could be, Chris would have inquired what had marked Josiah as he himself had been marked. Josiah caught his eye at that moment and tilted his cup of coffee at Chris, like two weary warriors acknowledging each other during the interlude between battles.
Ezra Standish was someone that Chris did not understand at all.
Neither was he certain that he entirely trusted the man. Ezra was engaged in conversation with Buck and JD, however, he seemed to know that Chris was watching him and regarded the gunslinger for a brief moment. Their eyes connected and Chris realized he had no idea what was going on behind those sea green eyes. It was easy to blame his lack of success on Ezra's ability to hide his emotions behind an impenetrable shield on his vocation as a gambler. A poker face was an absolute necessity in Ezra's line of profession but Chris did not think that its existence was attributed entirely to vocation alone. There was something else at work within the southerner that Chris could not quite discern yet. For instance, why hadn't he kept going when the rest of them had been captured? Ezra had made good his escape, leaving his companions to languish in the hands of mad Colonel Anderson. There was no reason for him to come back and considering what he was, it was completely understandable.
However, he did come back. He came back even though he knew that Chris would most likely kill him for running out on them in the first place and that those he left behind would not be the least bit grateful. They would eye him as someone who had let them down when they had needed him. Chris could not understand what value Ezra would have seen in returning and not knowing was the only reason that Ezra was still here with them. Almost as if he understood that Chris was watching him, thinking the things he was, Ezra turned away and returned to his discussion with Buck and JD, choosing not to comment what it would take time to change and not words spoken too soon after what he had done.
"You thinking about her." Chris asked, returning his attention to Nathan once more.
The tall dark man raised his head, almost as if he had been surprised that anyone was speaking to him at all before he regarded the question and allowed it to take shape in his mind. "Yeah."
"You could have stayed." Josiah remarked, perfectly aware that the reason for Nathan's departure had to do with his fear for the injuries sustained not only by him but also by Buck.
"No I couldn't." Nathan answered, having thought long and hard about Rain ever since he left the village, with her promise that she would wait for him, a siren song in his head.
"That girl was crazy about you Nathan," Buck Wilmington added his voice into the mix. "I can think of worse things than to partake of her company." He capped off that remark with one those mischievous smiles that left no doubt in anyone's mind what he was alluding to.
"It ain't like that." Nathan said a little too quickly and confirmed to everyone present that it was just like that.
"There's nothing wrong with feeling for the woman," Buck continued. "Just cause I ain't the marrying kind doesn't mean you aren't either."
"I don't know what I am." Nathan retorted. "I've never felt that way about anyone before to know if I am or not."
"But she likes you a lot." JD pointed out. "If you like her, what's the problem?"
Ezra Standish did not respond but he smiled a little at first and collected his thoughts, trying to decide whether or not it was prudent for him to speak. After all, his relationship with Nathan was the most difficult of all after Chris Larabee. In the past week, his meeting with Nathan Jackson had challenged his beliefs about the colored. For the first time in his life, he saw a colored man as more than what southern upbringing had taught and his behavior towards the man had been less than polite during their first encounter. He was uncertain how Nathan might take his advice but decided that if he were to forge any kind of friendship with the healer, he would have to just gamble on it. "I believe Mr Dunne has simplified the point a great deal."
"I guess I do like her but I'm not ready for anything more." Nathan responded after a moment. "Maybe I'm just a little scared of what admitting it would mean to my life."
"A wife, a family," Vin spoke up. "Those ain't bad things to want."
"I don't think I can ever be that settled." Nathan looked at the tracker. "Its too hard."
"It is hard work," Chris Larabee found himself speaking and wondering why he was even daring to touch such a painful subject in front of these men but lately, he was finding that they were the only ones to whom he could confide in if he were to do so. "Its hard work and there are risks."
No one questioned it when Chris said that because of all of them; he was the one who had a family, who knew what it was like to be a husband and a father. None of them could imagine what it was like to have all that taken away with the strike of a match.
"I'd like to have a family someday," Vin Tanner spoke up, aware that Chris was unprepared to say any more then that and as if he had done it all his life, drew the attention away from Chris, just as he drew away gunfire. "If I ever get this price off my head that is. Too much of my life is spent moving around, not having a place to go to, I don't want that forever."
"You are a traditionalist," Ezra remarked. "But I find that even I aspire to having to such things, though not in the same manner I imagine."
"I'm kind of surprised that you ain't married Ezra," JD declared.
The gambler stared at him with surprise. "How's that Mr Dunne?"
"Well the way you were with those kids, I thought you might have had a couple of your own already. You seemed to handle them pretty good." JD replied, referring to the attention Ezra had paid to some of the villager's children. Whatever he might appear to be, much of the polished exterior seemed to diminish before the children and JD had a sense that was the real person Ezra was, not the one he presented for display purposes only.
"Oh no," Ezra replied. "I am glad to say that I had not had the pleasure and to be frank, I do not wish to have the experience. Children are too wholly unpredictable for my tastes and from what I have observed, less rational. The trick to getting along with them is to simply threat them as one would treat an adult. I have found that to be the most effective way of winning them over. Of course, this is only meant to be a short term application."
"You make it sound like childhood is some kind of disease." Nathan retorted distastefully. "Children aren't that hard to understand, they just want to be loved."
"I sure as hell want my kids to have a better time of it then I did," Vin replied. "I think that's all any kid ever really wants, to know they got a ma and pa who loves them." He tried to remain neutral when he said those words but was certain that the others could tell he spoke from experience.
"My father didn't know the meaning of the word." Josiah said with a hint of sadness. "All he wanted to was to mold us into what he was. I swore I'd never have children if it meant sparing them my efforts to try and do the same. I want them to be what they are and not care if its' not what I want. I sure as hell didn't get the same consideration from my father and it caused a good deal harm."
"Well I didn't have no pa," Buck said with a sigh. "Least I never met him anyway but my ma always made me feel special. She showed me how fine a woman can be, no matter where she came from and what she did. If I ever picked just one woman to be my wife and have children, I sure as hell know that loving them is the best thing I can do for them. My children are going to feel special, no matter what."
"My ma was like that." JD replied and suddenly, they realized just how fresh the pain of her loss was for him. For JD, her death was only weeks behind him. He had come to the West because when she had gone, there was nothing else left for him but to chase his own dreams. "I just want to make sure that I'm always there for my kids, if I have 'em that is." JD was still dreaming about becoming a gunman like Chris and did not know how well a family would fit in with that career choice.
"Maybe some people ain't meant to have children," Chris Larabee drawled, the liquor having loosened his tongue enough to make that admission. "What's the point of watching them up grow, of loving 'em only to have them disappear on you? It ain't worth the trouble. Men like us, we ain't meant to have children."
The six men fell silent and decided Chris was probably right. Men like them did not have families, or wives, or children for that matter. The only thing they did have was trouble and it appeared that perhaps they might have each other as well.
Besides, what use had any of them for fatherhood?
THE END