Part Four
Divergence
There was only one way for Chris Larabee
to prove that he was not going mad. After Buck Wilmington, his oldest and
closest friend had informed him that the year was 1875 not 1880 as he believed,
Chris found his mind reeling with the possibility that it might be true. How
else could he explain how he had suddenly come to be in the same Mexican tavern
that he and Buck had found themselves the night that Sarah and Adam had died?
One moment he was in Four Corners, lying in bed with Mary and the next he had
woken up to find himself here, five years in the past. Chris was not a man who
believed in miracles and he had yet to decided how real any of this was, yet
one thought registered above all else.
Sarah and Adam were still alive and there was still
time to save them.
Buck had resumed dancing with his Mexican senorita
although judging by the furrow in the man's face, his heart was not in it as it
once was. His eyes were still fixed in Chris' direction, silent in the worries
about the strange exchange of a few minutes ago. Chris felt his heart pounding
in anxiousness because if this was real and he was here, he had to go home and
he had do it now. Striding forward, he grabbed Buck by the arm and pulled him
free of the woman. This time, she was not content to express her annoyance in a
sharp glare aimed at his direction, instead her shrill voice exploded into a
series of rude Mexican expletives.
"Now what!" Buck grumbled, wondering what
the hell was going on in Chris' head today. He was convinced Chris had been
drinking some of that home made stuff that the bartender sold to drunks who
were too wasted to know any better.
"I'll explain later," Chris said abruptly,
his grip around Buck's arm still firm as he dragged the big man out of the
establishment, trailing a lengthy verbal assault from the young lady he was
with.
"Explain what?" Buck demanded but made no
attempt to pull away as Chris hauled him outside.
"On the way, Buck!" Chris retorted.
Both men left the tavern and immediately proceeded to
the livery. The journey there had Buck firing numerous questions at Chris which
the man in black did not respond. Outside the tavern, away from musty smell of
cigars, liquor and cheap perfume, the night sky was beautiful and the air as
equally fresh. Chris looked up into the sky and saw a myriad of stars twinkling
with the same enchantment as he had known, during his last visit here. He had
stared at the canvas or iridescence, without suspecting in the slightest what
nightmare was taking place at home and what terrors were being faced by his
wife and child in their final hours.
Not this time.
He had a chance to stop it from happening. Somehow,
Fate had granted him a second chance to save Sarah and Adam and he was not
going to waste it. When this had happened to him before, he and Buck had left
this place too late to do anything but bury the dead bodies they had found. He
closed his eyes shut, trying to force away the memory of how he had found them,
their bodies burned and ruined. He had only managed to endure the ceremony of
burial because he had been numb inside. Had he allowed the sheer horror of it
to filter into his mind, he would have gone mad and plunged into an abyss from
which there would be no return.
Back then, all he had been able to do for them was to
give them a decent burial, a splinter of what he truly owed them but had little
choice but to accept. Until Ella's arrival in Four Corners, he had not even
known why, even thought the years preceding her arrival had allowed him enough
time to conjure all sorts of reasons. Chris had always believed it was an old
adversary, never realizing for one moment that all enemies show their faces in
the same way. They say evil can assume a pleasing shape and in Ella's case, it
was frightfully true.
Buck Wilmington had tired of asking questions during
the journey to the livery and had abandoned the idea of getting a straight
answer out of his friend until after they had collected their horses and were
on their way home. Despite his annoyance at being forcibly removed from the
company of a very accommodating young woman, Buck knew that Chris did not do
anything on a whim. Every thought and action was carefully calculated, nothing
was ever left to chance. Buck knew that if Chris was this determined, there was
a reason for it.
Buck studied Chris unobtrusively as they made their
way out of town and saw that his best friend was almost on the edge of panic
and could not understand what had frightened him so. It took a great deal to
shake the iron hard exterior of Chris Larabee's
persona but the expression on his face at the moment did not merely look shaken
but afraid. Chris was afraid and for Buck, the idea was almost preposterous.
Chris feared nothing, had done so ever since they met the first time. There
were very few men that could walk through life the way Chris did and still
allowed some measure of humanity to survive the darkness within their souls.
The darkness inside Chris Larabee
was always there, surfacing just enough to tell an enemy to withdraw, lest they
provoked something terrifying into making itself known. Buck had seen it
himself, those fleeting moment when it appeared in the ice of Chris eyes and
what he had seen made him recoil. Something so black and vile, predatory in its
savagery and possessing the cool of a killer without remorse, would present
itself, daring someone to provoke it into action.
He knew Chris kept tight rein of it, controlled it
with shackles of discipline and ruthless determination. Buck could not possibly
imagine what would happen if it was ever allowed to take complete possession of
Chris Larabee. He only knew if it took Chris, it
would never let go.
Once they had left the town far behind them, Buck asked
his questions again. "You mind telling what the hell is going on
now?" He looked at Chris with a frown, understanding that this was Chris
way but refusing to believe he should have to like it.
Chris took a deep breath and knew he owed Buck an
explanation even though when he did tell his story Buck would most likely think
he was crazy. In truth, Chris did not know what was real or unreal any more. He
remembered the past five years, the grief and pain of Sarah and Adam's death
and the ultimate healing that brought him Mary. It was as clear in his head as
this place before him. All he knew was in this time, Sarah was still alive and
he clung to that as the only anchor for his sanity to cope.
Releasing a held breath as he formulated some sort of
way to present an explanation to Buck, Chris met the gaze of his old friend who
would stick by him through the worst of what would happen, should be fail to
save Adam and Sarah tonight. "Do you remember me telling you about Ella
Gaines?"
"Yeah," Buck nodded, recalling the lady in
question even though he had never met her but knew her from Chris'
recollections. "You took up with her straight after you got out from the
army, didn't you?"
"That's right." Chris swallowed. "I met
her just after I resigned and turned in my stripes. When I got out, I drifted
for a bit. There wasn't no family waiting for me so I didn't really have any
place to go. I ran into Ella and it was like fire and oil from the moment we
met. Being with her was like having a fever in your head, she made me crazy and
I was ready to shoot anyone that came between us. It was self destructive and I
knew it couldn't last forever."
"Ones like that burn out quickly." Buck
replied, unable to imagine Chris in the grip of such passionate relationship.
With Sarah, the relationship was warm and affectionate, devoid of the heat of a
frenzied sexual fire but nonetheless just as satisfying.
"They do," Chris agreed. "Unfortunately
for Ella it didn't. When I left her and moved on, I assumed she did too. Buck
she's been watching me every day since I left her. She's had people follow me,
keeping a bead on who I'm with and who I've married. She thinks I'm hers and
she ain't gonna stand anyone else being in the way." Chris met his eyes so
that Buck would understand the full measure of Ella's insanity.
Buck started to understand where this was going.
"Are you telling me, she might think Sarah and Adam are in the way?"
"Don't ask me how I know this," Chris
continued and prayed that Buck would leave it at that. However, he needed
Buck's help if he was going to stop Fowler and the men who were on their way to
his home, if they were not already there. "She's hired men to kill Sarah
and Adam and they are going to do it tonight, while we were in
Buck's eyes widened. "Jesus, Chris!" He
swore. "Why didn't you just tell me this?"
Chris did not know how to explain to Buck that he had
seen an alternate ending to this situation, where he and Buck had stayed on in
Mexico as planned only to return home the next morning, to find his house a
funeral pyre to his dead wife and son. How in the years that followed, he would
almost be driven mad by the grief until a chance stop at a small town called
"I can't explain it in anyway that can make
sense." He retorted, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy Buck for
the moment. "All I know is that we have to get there before Fowler and his
men arrived or they're going to burn down the house with Sarah and Adam in
it."
"Christ," Buck turned away, exasperated by
the lack of answers but struck by the fact that had they stayed in Mexico like
he wanted and if Chris was right about these men, then Sarah and Adam would die
because of him.
Chris knew exactly what Buck was thinking, even though
he had hurdled the need to blame Buck following the death of his family. He
knew that was part of the reason why Buck had endured the next five years,
always remaining close enough to come to his aide if required. During those
first few months, Buck was all that had kept Chris Larabee
from putting a bullet in his head. Buck had refused to let Chris take the easy
way out and the result had been a fracture in their friendship that had never
really healed, no matter how much time had passed. Sure, they were still
friends but it was not quite the same as what it was before.
"Will this woman Ella be there?" Buck
ventured a guess.
"Yes," Chris nodded, his voice icy cold as
he made the admission. Mary had mentioned something about Ella's presence at
the house the night Sarah and Adam had been killed but did not go into details.
Chris had the impression she was trying to protect him from something, although
he could not for the life of him imagine what that might be. After losing his
wife and son to a fire, Chris could not see what could be worse beyond knowing
that. "If she is," he said coldly, "I'm going to find her and
make sure they lock her up forever."
Buck hoped that was all he was going to do.
************
Okay, she was not dreaming.
She knew this for certain now. Mary Travis found
herself walking through the town of
Despite herself, she could not help feeling some
measure of irritation knowing that the office she had spent the last three
years, being editor and chief of the Clarion News was no longer hers. She was
ashamed of her selfishness. After all, she had always wished for Stephen to
survive that terrible night when those greedy landowners had come to take his
life. However, in having this particular wish come true, Mary was remembering
some other things that had been conveniently forgotten in time. Stephen was a
wonderful husband but he let her do nothing and took care of everything. When
she had lost him, she understood how much of a liability it was to go through
life assuming your husband was required to take care of things.
Strangely enough, during the few weeks she had been
married to Chris, that had never been a problem. His requirements were slight,
as long as he had enough money to buy bullets and liquor, he did not care what
happened to his money and preferred that she managed it. He left most things to
her because he knew she was capable of taking care of it and only offered his
opinion, when he felt strongly enough about something to make himself heard.
For most part, Chris was easy going and very different from what she remembered
of married life with Steven.
As she strolled along the boardwalk, she could not
help feeling a pang of yearning for him. However, this reality that she was now
trapped in had turned her world upside down and suddenly, Mary did not know how
she ought to feel about him. Steven was back in her life and she loved her
husband as much as she always had but the years since his death had changed her
and she was coming to the uncomfortable realization that the woman who was wife
and had spent years mourning her husband was gone. A new creature resided in
her place. A creature who was fiercely independent, who knew her mind and was
not afraid to storm the gates of heaven to get it and most of all, a woman who
was still very much in love with Chris Larabee.
She found herself at the general store and peered
through the shop front window, paying little attention to the items in display
but more concerned with what was transpiring inside. She could see Mr. Hennessy
taking case of a number of customers who were at the cash register with their
goods, while spotting Mrs. O'Leary engaged in a rather heavy session of gossip
with Mrs. Stern whose husband was the local barber. Mary searched the store
until her eyes rested on a figure in the background, trying to go unnoticed as
he continued to pack the shelves with packets of flour.
Mary found herself smiling despite herself, seeing the
utter boredom in his handsome face as he placed another packet of flour on the
shelf, while trying to ignore the gaggle of words emanating from Janet and
concentrate on what he was doing. He seemed so completely lost doing what he
was and Mary knew that he was probably imagining wide open spaces where he
could lose himself in the wilderness in complete anonymity. Vin Tanner looked
completely out of depth as he tried to adhere to the mundane existence of a
shop clerk, trying not to hate what he was doing and looking only for the
slightest excuse to get himself thrown out of the place. Mary smiled in secret
knowledge, completely aware that the time was drawing near for the event that
would change all their lives and the future of
She resumed walking, pleased that salvation for Vin
was just around the corner. Her eyes shifted to the town beyond the boardwalk,
unable to believe how much would change in two short years following the
arrival of the seven. At the moment, it looked as lawless as ever. The sheriff
was nowhere to be seen and Mary fumed knowing that he was most likely cowering
under his desk in fear, just in case he might be called on to perform his
duties.
It surprised her how much law and order had changed
Mary was so intent in her observations that she took
her gaze from the path she had been walking and found herself bumping into
someone.
"I'm sorry. ." she started to say when she
looked up at the stranger's face and reacted almost immediately.
"Chris!" She gasped.
The man in black stared at the woman before him,
hiding everything behind his steely blue gaze. Like she, he had not been
watching where he was going; more interested in finding where the saloon was
situated in this dusty town. However, as he laid his eyes upon her, he felt his
breath catch and something inside him, long believed to be dead, shook itself
free like a huge dog shaking the water off its back.
Sweet Jesus, she was beautiful!
That was the only thing that Chris Larabee
could think as he looked into the most expressive blue eyes he had ever seen.
In a flash he saw things within those specks of grey that made him feel like a
teenager again and the need to run his fingers through that cascade of gold
hair framing her lovely face was more than he could stand. He took a step away
from her hastily, like he had been scalded at her touch, unable to remove his
eyes from that face. It took him another second after he had stepped away from
her to realize that she had called his name.
"I don't think we've met." He said coolly.
Mary saw the confusion in his eyes coupled with the
intense feeling she would come to know as his love for her, reflecting back at
her. He was just as captivating to her as he had been the first time he strode
forward into danger, with his black duster trailing behind him in the wind,
looking as if hell had rode into town wearing the face of a God. Of course he
would not know her even though how he felt was apparent in his face. She felt a
swell of pride knowing that he had been affected by her almost as completely as
she had when they first laid their eyes upon each other. Mary felt her heart
pounding in her chest and knew that around him, a normal heart rate was going
to be a memory.
"You're Chris Larabee,"
she said recovering as best she could. "The gunfighter."
"Just Chris Larabee."
He answered, studying her with that penetrating gaze of his.
His heart was beating in his chest and although he
wanted to continue the conversation with her, he had no idea what to say. He
had not been this tongue-tied with any woman like this since Sarah. Suddenly,
the memory of his wife surfaced in his mind. It reminding him of how things
were and made him feel extraordinarily guilty that he was even looking at this
woman, whom he just noticed was wearing a wedding ring, like someone he would
love to take somewhere and spend a lifetime making love to.
"Will you be staying long in
Mary wanted her life back, the life where she had
married this man before her a few weeks ago, where he had made love to her this
morning after breakfast.
"Just passing through." Chris answered,
telling himself to walk away but finding that he could not. He studied her
face, admiring the luminescent skin whose texture of ivory made him want to
brush his fingers against the peach like softness of her face and feel the silk
of those pink lips.
"That is unfortunate." She continued, her
eyes never leaving his and unspoken things were conveyed and the electricity
between them was a force to be felt, a heat that could stood on the edge of
starting an inferno.
"I can't see no reason why. . Mrs.?" He
asked, his gaze briefly moving to her hand where her wedding ring glimmered
under the sunlight.
"Just Mary." She said softly, feeling
somewhat ashamed admitting to him that she was married. What must he think of
her? A married woman, starting a conversation with a known gunmen in the middle
of a public street, with her attraction for him obvious to anyone who paused to
look. Her cheeks flushed crimson at the idea and she looked around nervously,
breaking the gaze long enough to see a few curious eyes in her direction.
"Maybe I'll see you around, Mary." Chris
replied, taking the opportunity to break away.
"I think you will." Mary called out to him.
He looked over his shoulder, long enough to give her a
faint smile, one of those shadowy smiles that she had so much trouble reading
in the beginning. However, he did not answer but there was just enough sparkle
in those cobalt coloured eyes to agree with her. Mary
let out a sigh and turned away from him, when she found Steven staring at her.
"Steven." She swallowed being able to tell
by the dark expression on his face that he had seen the whole exchange and was
completely unimpressed by her behaviour.
"What the hell were you doing talking to that
man?" He hissed, taking her arm and towing her back to the Clarion, in
front of God and everyone.
"Steven!" She exclaimed loud enough for
Chris to pause in his footsteps and watch her being manhandled across the
street. She saw a slight flicker in his eyes as if he wanted to intervene but
knew not whether he should or not.
"Steven Travis, let me go!" She pulled
herself free. "What is the meaning of this?" She demanded, glaring at
him in indignant fury. All eyes were fixed on them and Mary felt her cheeks
deepen with a crimson shade in pure mortification of this public display.
"Mary," he said barely concealing his anger.
"I saw you talking to that man! That's Chris Larabee!
The gunfighter! A decent woman does not carry out conversations in public with
that kind of scum!"
Mary immediately shifted her gaze to Chris and saw him
standing on the barest edge of control. She knew it would take little more than
another harsh word from Steven before the gunslinger would be on his way to her
defense. Mary did not want things to reach that point. "I'm sorry
Steven," Mary said swallowing her anger and tolerating his anger for the
moment. There was a sequence of events that needed to happen and if Steven and
Chris become locked in some kind of confrontation, it would not happen and
neither would everything she remembered. "I ran into him by mistake and we
started talking, there was no impropriety intended. I apologize if it appeared
that way."
That seemed to pacify his anger and he softened
considerably at her admission. "I'm sorry too Mary," he reached for
her and ran a gentle wisp of his thumb against her chin. "I over reacted.
I just want to keep you safe."
"I know." She replied and linked her arm
through his before continuing back to the Clarion.
When she looked over her shoulder as they drew away,
she saw that Chris was gone.
************
Vin Tanner stared at Kincaid's body wondering how this
could be.
He knew for a fact that Kincaid had died more than two
years ago because finding his body and returning it to Tuscosa
had been one of the defining moments in his life. The sequence of events that
would shape his future following his return to Tuscosa
had stemmed from this one pivotal moment. When he had taken the body back to
the little town, Vin had never suspected that the body he was carrying had been
any one but Eli Joe's. He supposed it was an easy enough mistake because Eli
Joe had selected his victim well. The man who was lying half immersed in the
water trough bore enough of a physical resemblance to the image of Eli Joe on
the poster Vin had at the time, for the tracker to make the mistake of thinking
it was him.
For a few seconds after his discovery, Vin merely sat
and stared in stupefied astonishment at the body before him, trying to
understand how this could happen. He had come to realize that somehow, although
he was at a loss to know how, he had been returned to the day he had found
Kincaid's body. The irony of it was that he had always wished for the
opportunity to return to this moment, to walk away so that he could avoid the
ramifications it would have upon the rest of his life. Without the bounty on
his head, he could actually marry Alex and make a decent start to their life
together.
Walking away now would ensure that much would happen
but that he still wanted to bring Eli Joe in for using this poor unfortunate as
bait. For the longest time, Eli Joe had operated on the assumption that Vin did
not know what the outlaw looked like. However, things had changed significantly
with the present situation. Vin did know what Ely Joe looked like and he also
knew that this body in the trough was a trap laid for him. Vin also had the
advantage of surprise because at this time, the outlaw would assume that he had
return with the body to Tuscosa to collect his
reward. Eli Joe would have every reason to believe that Vin was no longer on
his trail and thus would not be looking over his shoulder.
Besides, even if Vin did walk away now, where could he
go? Alex was still travelling the world with her father and Chris Larabee had yet to make the fateful trip to
Vin pulled the body out of the water, deciding that if
he was going leave Kincaid then the least he could do for the man was give him
a proper burial. Vin returned to Peso and rummaged through his saddle, seeking
for the tool that would allow him to dig a suitable grave. Like before, there
did not seem to be anyone present so he had to find a suitable spot for the
gravesite and hoped that Kincaid would not mind the choice. Even though the
cold had set into the man's corpse from being in water, the look of him told
Vin that Kincaid had not been dead for very long. As he produced the small
spade he had in his keeping, Vin decided that once he had completed the task
before him, he would camp some distance away from the property and wait until
first light.
Once the sun was up, he would return and conduct a
thorough investigation of the place, seeking the tracks he had never bothered
about before that might give him a clue as to which direction Eli Joe might
have headed. No doubt the outlaw would be complacent now, assuming Vin had
fallen into his trap and would not be expecting him to continue the hunt. As
Vin started digging, he realized he knew very little about Kincaid and wondered
if the man had any family to mourn him in or would even care if he was dead. He
assumed there had not been because he had been residing in
In any case, the task of burying Kincaid did not take
long. A little more than an hour had passed following Vin's discovery of the
body before the tracker put the final piece in the ring of stones that framed
the mound where Kincaid was laid to rest. He had selected a spot underneath the
shade of some trees not far from the house and although the darkness did not
allow him a clear view of the site, it seemed peaceful and somewhat appropriate
for a final resting place. Vin wanted to say a few words but nothing came to
mind so he decided to leave it at that. If Kincaid had family, they would find
him soon enough. Vin had left enough markers to indicate where the grave was.
Returning to Peso, Vin felt the need to put as much
distance between himself and this property as possible. A slight shudder ran through
his spine at the knowledge that he had somehow stepped through time to emerge
at such a fortuitous place in time. Climbing back on top of his horse, Peso
seemed just as happy to depart as Vin himself. Before Vin could even nestled
himself back into the saddle, Peso had started moving of its own volition,
indicating to its master its eagerness to leave this place. Animals were known
to have keener senses then men would ever know and Vin wondered if Peso could
feel the disturbance in time and space that had allowed his return to this
point.
"Come on boy," he dug his heels in and Peso
broke into a robust trot away from the property, covering enough distance in a
few short minutes to put the place far behind them. Vin could not blame his
horse for feeling skittish. This entire situation reeked of supernatural forces
at work. Vin was neither gullible nor superstitious but he was not obtuse
enough to deny what was right in front of his eyes. He knew his mind, he knew
that he had come across Kincaid's body before this and events had unfolded in a
different way. Why some twist of fate had allowed him to be in the same
position again was beyond his ability to answer but he knew if he had a chance
to change things he was going to take it.
The further he drew away from the Kincaid property,
Vin found himself wondering how things would progress after this point. While
he knew what would happen when he finally made his way to
Even when that did happen, there was no guarantee that
she would even recognize him and what they had meant to each other. He was
almost tempted to go after her, wherever she was but unfortunately wherever she
was, was nowhere on this continent. If what she had told him was correct, at
this moment Alexandra Styles was somewhere across the sea with her father.
Besides, Vin did not know whether he wanted to face William Styles and explain
to the man how a tracker without a penny to his name had somehow won his
daughter's heart.
Still, it pleased him to know that if he resolved this
situation with Eli Joe, he would no longer be a fugitive. When Alex finally
came into his life, everything about their relationship would change. He could
marry her, without having to worry about some bounty hunter turning up
periodically to claim the $500 reward for his head. It was strange, Vin had
never believed he was the marrying kind. Certainly not to a lady of Alex's
caliber. Colour not withstanding and he would readily
gut any man who made reference to her skin, she was indeed a lady as any he had
ever met. Although he feared what William Styles might think of him, Vin would
have like to have known the man.
Judging from what Alex had told him about her father,
it would have been quite something to know William Styles, since nothing about
him seemed very conventional. Vin admired the man for raising such a headstrong
daughter even though the fruits of his labour tended
to give Vin more headaches than he could possibly imagine, especially when Alex
got into her mind to do something to which Vin was diametrically opposed.
He was some distance away from Kincaid's property when
suddenly, he could see the illumination of a campfire in the distance. He was
still far away enough not to be heard by whomever had started the fire and Vin
immediately pulled Peso to a halt. There was no other sound to be heard, except
the voices emanating from the fire and the occasional hoot of an owl in the
darkness. Vin had a good idea who was out there so he climbed off his horse and
tethered Peso to a nearby tree. He could make the rest of the journey ahead on
foot and it would be far wiser to make a stealthy advance.
Moving through the scrub, Vin blended into the dark,
making no sound as he crept towards the fire, his eyes keeping watch on
everything around him, paying attention to every bit of sound that spoke to him
in the night. Despite his eagerness to have his suspicion confirmed, he did not
make the mistake of rushing in blindly. The enemy had proved himself to be a
crafty opponent and the innocent sounds in the dark might easily be faked to
trick someone into believing all was well. Vin who had used the tactic enough
times in his life, was very aware of this.
However, by the time Vin finally neared the campfire,
he had so far remained unaccosted or had yet to
stumble into any ambush. As he let his guard down a bit, he neared the edge of
the fire's concentration, closing in on the prey just far enough to see the
illumination of the campfire, bouncing off himself but not enough to be seen by
the four men who were gathered around it. Their lively chatter indicated no
sign of awareness of being watched and judging by the slur in their speech,
they were quite drunk. Vin's eyes moved across the faces, recognizing none of
them as he followed the bottle they were passing around.
Only when the last man took a hold of it, did Vin's
breath catch.
Eli Joe was among them.
Vin's eyes narrowed at the sigh of his nemesis,
wondering if the man had any idea that he was being watched or how much
difficulty he had caused Vin in the past that only the tracker remembered now.
Of course he knew, Vin thought ruefully glaring at Eli Joe who was taking a
swig from the bottle of whisky being bandied about. It had been the man's plan
all the time, not only to make Vin a hunted fugitive but to make him feel just
as hunted and disaffected as he did, to make him know what it was to not have a
future. If it was not for Chris Larabee and Alexander
Styles entering his life, Vin might have very well succumbed to the anguish
that Eli Joe had wanted him to endure, except there was one significant
difference between himself and the man he had been tracking. Vin had never
murdered anyone.
Still all that had now changed. The moment he had
walked away from Kincaid, he had erased the stain that would follow him in the
years ahead and by the time Vin was done with Eli Joe tonight, there would be
no other Kincaid's left to find.
************
When Alexandra Styles finally coaxed her legs into
movement, she ran forward and embraced the man coming towards her without care
or thought for that matter of the spectacle she was making of herself. Wrapping
her arms around him, she pulled him close to her, unable to believe that it was
really him until she was able to feel the warmth of his familiar embrace around
her. The tears had come so quickly, she had little time to stop them as she
held her father in a hug full of happiness and rejoicing.
"Daddy" Alex whispered, crying softly as she
clung to him. "Its really you."
William Styles was mildly surprised by this emotional
greeting from his usually level headed and extremely competent daughter.
"Of course it's me, Lex." He said somewhat
puzzled by the reception. "You only saw me yesterday."
Alex pulled away from him and composed herself,
ignoring the strange looks she was getting from the people moving past her in
the hospital corridor. Yes, that would make sense in this strange world she had
stumbled into. He was always a big part of her life, even if she did snare a
plush posting in a hospital like this, she had no doubt he would cross an ocean
to be with her. They had rarely been apart since the day she was born and Alex
had no doubt that if Randall Mason had not caused his death prematurely, they
would still be together.
"I'm being silly," she said drawing breath
to steady herself at the shock of seeing him here. Wiping the tears from her
eyes, she looked at him and saw that he had not changed at all. He still wore
his favourite dark suit, his once dark hair having
thinned considerably and he stared at hers with the dark brown eyes that most
thought she had inherited from her mother but were actually from him. "I'm
having a very strange day," she responded, uncertain if she ought to tell
him that just yesterday, she was in a world far removed from this one.
"Well," he frowned, not believing it for a
second because there seem to be more to it than she was letting on. However, as
he had come to know about his daughter, she would let him know when she was
ready. "I thought I would tear you away from this bastion of medical conformity
and take you to lunch."
"Bastion of medical conformity?" Alex had to
laugh, remembering how he felt about practicing in a proper hospital. Her
father severely disliked conventional medical practices, which was why he had
spent the first half of his life trekking across the globe and the rest of it
taking her with him. "Daddy, you haven't changed a bit but lunch sounds
good." She smiled, linking her arm through his as they resumed walking
towards the main doors.
William Styles stared at her a moment, wondering what
was behind that odd remark and shook it off. "You seemed a little
distracted, Lex."
As they stepped out of the hospital into the sunshine
beyond the white walls of the establishment, Alex took a deep breath and
decided that the air like everything else she had experienced today was real
enough. She was still confused at how she had come to this place but at the
moment, with the blue sky shining gloriously over the manicured perfection of
the hospital lawns and her father at her side, she decided she could leave the
questions of the how until later. For right now, she wanted to enjoy the
moment, even if she could wake up at any moment and find this to be nothing
more than a vivid dream.
"I'm wondering what I'm doing here." She
admitted, deciding that was as close as she was going to get to telling him the
truth.
"I often wonder myself. We're in a new
continent," he declared, his gaze moving across the place in a gesture of
the land's sweeping vastness. "We could travel the country from one end to
the other, I for one would like to meet the Indians at some point. I could
probably devote an entire section of my book to their medicine men alone.
Unfortunately," he sighed with the barest hint of a smile on his face.
"I am doomed to languish in this stolid surroundings because my daughter
wishes to adhere to convention and practice like an outstanding member of the
medical community."
Alex rolled her eyes, remembering his sense of humour and realizing that she probably acquired it from
him. "That's not exactly true you know." She remarked, embarking upon
an idea that was probably insane but not caring because there were two things
in her life she could not do without. One was her father and through some
miracle he was here, talking about exploring
"I would not mind practicing some frontier
medicine." She met his gaze and saw the surprise filtering into his face
at her admission. "Perhaps in some place like the west."
"Really Lex?" He
stared at her hard. "I never thought you were interested in frontier work.
That is probably my fault for dragging you half way across the world."
"Daddy," Alex sighed, not liking for one
minute that he believed she might have not enjoyed time together. "I loved
every minute of it but I have a question of you first." Undoubtedly, if
she wished to make her way to
"I am intrigued." Styles retorted and he
truly was. For as long as she had completed her internship, all Alex had ever
wanted to do was practice in a proper hospital. Although he was disappointed
for he had hoped they would resume their globe trotting once again, he
understood that he could not hamper her quest for her own dreams.
Unfortunately, he was painfully aware that proper English society considered
his beloved daughter to be of questionable pedigree despite the fact that he
came from a notable family. However, who her mother had been would follow Alex
all her life and he knew that there would be no residency at any hospital with
that stain in her past. Thus, he had used his considerable influence across the
Since her arrival at Boston Mercy, Alex had accomplished
what most women of her time could only dream of. She had become a surgeon with
a reputation that was quickly becoming one of the most notable in
"Daddy, if I told you I met someone, what would
you say?"
He showed no reaction even though inside, William Styles
knew that this day would come. He hated thinking his free spirited daughter
chained to a society like this. Bostonians were the most boring people in the
world, the very idea of Alex becoming counted with their ranks was depressing.
"What would you like me to say? I always assumed this would happen. I
gather he is a doctor?" He ventured a guess.
Alex smiled, seeing the dread in his eyes. He could
never lose her, did he not understand that? They finally reached the edge of
hospital grounds and stepped onto the sidewalk that ran past one of the many
streets in
"No daddy," she replied, wondering how she
would describe Vin to him. "He's not a doctor, or a lawyer or anything
like that. He can barely read, although I understand his lessons are
progressing well. He's a lawman in the Territory."
His amazement showed. "How on Earth did you meet
a lawman in
"It's a long story." She said brushing the
question aside. He had no idea how long a story it really was. "He doesn't
have a penny to his name or anything else for that matter. He lives on a dollar
a day." Alex had no idea how much her expression told her father as she
spoke of Vin, unaware that the emotion swelling inside her heart was being
reflected in her eyes. "But he loves me daddy, he doesn't care who my
mother was, he doesn't call me a doctor, he calls me a healer and at this
moment, he's in back in a little town called
"I can see that." Styles responded, having
never seen his daughter being so taken by any man. He supposed if this lawman
was anything like how she described him, Alex had ever reason to be so
enamored. Styles himself could not judge, he would reserve that opinion until
he met the man for himself, although in truth, he cared little about the man's
background just his character. Alex's mother had been the single brightest
light of his life, eclipsed only by the daughter she left him. He had never
regretted for one moment the decision to take Yasmine
for his wife, despite the objections of his family due to her heathen
background and her vocation as a dancer. The brief years he had spent with her
had been the best of his life. He would not trade them for anything. Certainly
not for the respectable English wife everyone had assumed he should have taken.
If Alex had found someone who fulfilled her in the same way, he could not
begrudge her his blessing because he knew what it was like to be cast out for
the choices on made in life.
"So, what is this lawman's name?"
"Vin. Tanner" She answered, pleased that she
saw no recriminations in his face and was grateful that her father was not
inundating her with questions since when she finally did arrive at
He just did not know it yet.
************
When Ezra Standish finally walked out of the townhouse
supposedly occupied by himself, his wife and two children, the gambler found
himself letting out a sigh of relief the likes of which he had never known
before. Once in
Finding out he was married with children, was even
worse than that. Although he stumbled through most of the morning like a
soldier suffering battle fatigue, Ezra had somehow managed to offer his
'family' enough coherence to not rouse any suspicions. When he had finally left
for work, he had been most astonished to find he had a carriage waiting for him
and had confessed his desire to take in some fresh air before
Despite his abhorrence to the whole prospect of a
having a wife, he had to admit feeling some spark of pleasure at seeing his
children.
According to
He was expected at work apparently and a morbid
curiosity was drawing Ezra to the office where he supposedly conducted his law
practice. Although he knew in his mind that everything that had happened today
was impossible, he wanted to see what his respectable alter ego did during his
day. Ezra could not imagine himself as a notable man of the law but he had
considered that a solicitor would have a great deal of resources at his
disposal. Perhaps, he could make use of those resources to find Julia and the
rest of the seven. If he was here in this twisted reality, where the rest of
his friends? What had happened to his mother? Was she still moving from place
to place, following one con after another? How had she managed without him?
Despite the idyllic existence he had supposedly wanted
all his life, Ezra felt suffocated by the whole persona he had woken up to this
morning. He needed a drink badly and he needed a game of cards to remind him
who he was. He thought about Julia, feeling a deep pining for her as he
wondered where she was in the scheme of things. Was she in
Eventually, he relented and proceeded to the office
where he supposedly carried out his career as a lawyer of some note in
The office was located in a building that towered at
least three stories in height and as he walked into the main lobby, a well
dressed door man tipped his hat in Ezra's direction and greeted him with a wide
smile. "Good morning Mr. Standish."
"Good morning." Ezra said trying to return
the warmth in the man's voice even though he did not feel it.
"Congratulations on your big case." He
added. "You sure show them darkies how we do things in the south."
Ezra looked at him sharply. What the hell did he mean
by that? Ezra wondered, starting to have some very terrible suspicions rising
from the pit of his stomach. "Thank you." He said hiding how much the
door man's words had shaken him.
As Ezra descended up the stairs, his mind whirled at
what the man had said. He supposed the Ezra Standish who was an outstanding
member of the community would never have had the chance to meet Nathan Jackson
or Alexandra Styles. Between the two of them, they had managed to change the
way Ezra viewed people. Until Nathan's presence in his life, the idea that a
black man could become a friend let alone and equal was unimaginable to him.
Even though he never condone the cruelty to Negroes in any shape or form, he
certainly did not feel that they were equals. Nathan had changed all that.
If he had never met Nathan than all that he become
since knowing the healer would be no more. Ezra had a feeling that the man who
was in place of that person was a true figure of southern hospitality, cut in
the same ilk as men like Nicholas Serfonteine and
James Micawber. The idea that the progression of his
so called respectable life had led him to adopt such philosophies made Ezra
sick to the stomach. Nathan Jackson was his friend, a close a friend as any he
had ever had. Nathan had not only saved his life more times than Ezra could
count but he had done so knowing how Ezra had felt about him.
He was still engaged in these disturbing thoughts when
he reached the floor where his office was supposedly situated. He walked down
the corridor that smelled of fresh paint and the lacquer of the polished wood
floor and found that he was in extremely good company. Passing by the doors on
the way to his own, Ezra spied a doctor practice, a cadastral surveyor and even
an insurance broker in the office preceding his own. Ezra could not imagine
spending his days cooped up in one place, pouring over books trying to find
legal loopholes which were really nothing more than another form of the con,
except the mark was a jury of twelve men supposedly good and true. Ezra
supposed it was not so difficult for him to excel at the vocation when anything
requiring deception was involved.
Upon reaching his office, he saw his name stenciled
neatly on the frosted glass of the door and voices busy at work emanating from
behind it. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if the wiser thing was to just
walk away right now, instead of entering and facing the real possibility of
being exposed as a fraud. As it was, he had serious reservations about the kind
of law he practiced. Was he merely a mouthpiece for extremist views on keeping
the black man down in his place? Is that what being respectable was all about?
Deciding he would never know until he found out, Ezra
twisted the door knob and entered the room. He found himself in an office a
great deal more elaborate in furnishings and design that Mary Travis' own at
the Clarion News. He saw a number of clerk sitting behind desks, doing battle
with typewriters, flanking an aisle ran past their desks, culminating at a
partitioned section that Ezra assumed was his own private bastion. The room had
the aroma of old papers and books, the source of which he spied found one
corner, where a thick volumes of law books were in residence along a wide
shelf.
Light poured through the open window, illuminating the
dust in the air and giving the place an atmosphere or erudite respectability.
He had no sooner stepped into what passed for his waiting room, when he noticed
a young black woman rising to her feet at his arrival. Before she was allowed
to speak, one of the clerks obviously in his employ, hurried from behind his
desk to intercept the conversation. A weedy looking young man with pocked skin
approached him nervously.
"Mr. Standish, this is Mrs.
"Mrs.
Turning to the lady, he tried to continue the facade
that he had some idea of who she was even though it was a mystery to him.
"What can I do for you Mrs. Washington."
She strode up to him, fire in her eyes, looking
magnificent even though her clothes were faded and worn. She carried herself
with great dignity as she approached him. Without warning, her hand flew back
and struck him clear across the face. "You bastard! I hope you're
happy!"
It was not by any means a blow that hurt him but it
was the vehemence behind that caused the most damage. Her face glared at him
with rage but underlying it was an anguish that was as plain as day for anyone
who cared enough to look. Without knowing the specifics of what he had done,
Ezra knew instinctively that he had wronged her greatly and mischief was a vast
understatement to what crime he had committed under the veneer of
respectability he used as a shield.
"Now see here," his clerk declared and took
a step towards her. She held her ground, unflinching in her fear of harm coming
to herself. The other clerks were rising from their seats, rallying to his
defense in similar fashion.
"Stop." Ezra said firmly, gesturing with one
hand that he wanted no action taken against her. Judging by the unspoken sorrow
in her eyes, he guessed that she was in enough pain. A slap across the face was
not exactly the worst insult anyone had ever paid him and he knew his ego would
survive this. "Madam, if you could just tell me. ."
"Tell you?" She laughed a cold humorless
laugh, devoid of any amusement. "You got your friends off. All of them!
They raped my little sister, killed my Albert when he tried to stop them and
you! You let them get away with it!" Her voice started to shake as she
stared him down, her eyes welling with tears that had been long restrained.
Ezra saw the wall of strength shatter and the grief came tumbling down across
her face.
"Mr. Standish is not responsible." The clerk
said behind him. "You nigras ought to know your
place. You had no business buying that place next to Ray Parkinson and his kin.
You asked for what happened to you."
Ezra swallowed, feeling the bile rise from his stomach
as he started to understand what part he had played in this woman's tragic
circumstances. No doubt, the Washingtons as many
others before and after them had done since the war, found themselves land
owners next to white families who still believed that a Negro's place was still
in the cotton fields as slave. Violence ensued as it almost always did and
naturally, Mrs.
"I came here today to let you know that you let
an innocent man die for nothing. I guess to folk like you what's one more dead
nigger." With that, she turned on her heels and left, saying nothing and
eliciting silence in her departure from everyone in the room. Only after the
door had slammed behind her could Ezra release a held breath. If anything had
the power to tarnish the dream of this seemingly perfect existence, it was the
sorrow he had seen in her eyes as she spoke her final words.
"Uppity bitch." Someone said with complete
and utter derision.
Ezra tried to hide his disgust at the lack of
compassion or the understanding for what the woman had been trying to say and
decided it was pointless attempting to make them understand that there was no
pride to be had regarding the case that had garnered him everyone's
salutations. He felt the clerk pat him on the back and remark. "Don't
worry about her Mr. Standish," the man said, smiling at Ezra as if the
compliment he was paying Ezra only served to deepen the gambler's disgust at
the man he had become in this fantasy world.
Ezra said nothing and broke away, striding towards his
desk, deciding that at least in there he would have a moment to decide how much
more of this charade he could tolerate before he got on his horse and started
riding for Four Corners.
************
She was rich.
She was finally secure. She was rich, rich, rich.
Although Julia Pemberton had once believed that when
she was allowed to inherit her father's entire estate without the burden of
having a husband to lord over her and her money, she would be deliriously
happy. Often she would play out a scenario in her head where she would be
transformed from restrictive heiress into a world famous traveller,
using her money to take her across the globe from one adventure to another.
Even though she had loved her father, she had been a different person in those
days, selfish and self absorbed. Julia had believed the world to be her oyster
and no one had the right to deny her what was hers, in particular her father.
He had been her creature for as long as she had lived and when he had arranged
her marriage with Packard, Julia had learnt for the first time how wrong she
had been. Even after she had fled Philadelphia, even after she had reached Four
Corners, she had often wished that if he had only died before he could arrange
the marriage with Roderick Packard.
Now that it had finally happened, Julia was uncertain
or not whether this was a blessing or a curse. After the initial shock had
faded, following Packard's announcement of what was contained in the will,
Julia had felt a certain smug satisfaction as she walked into the house,
surrounded by relatives she despised for the reading of the will. She watched
them treading lightly around her, uncertain of how to behave since her father's
death had been so sudden and it was likely the will he left behind would favour his only child. Most of her relation, owed in some
way, their income to the prosperity of Donald Avery. With his being dead, that
income now remained in precarious balance and those who had reason to treat
Julia with scorn, realized now the folly of their actions.
When the will was read, it was as bad as they feared.
Julia had indeed been left the entire estate, all two million dollars worth of
assets, from cash to stock and bonds, to real estate. She had barely paid
attention to the details once she was told she had inherited everything. Julia
enjoyed the expression of stark fear in the eyes of the family as they learnt that
the trusts they had lived upon for so long were now to be handled at Julia's
discretion in whatever manner she saw fit.
For the first few days, she had been in a bliss of
power, exulting in it as she had never enjoyed anything so much in her life.
She had once believed that the heights of pleasure could be reached by sexual
possession of another being but there was power more potent and far more
satisfying than that. She thoroughly enjoyed her intimidation of her pompous
relatives who had lived viewed her with contempt all her life, hating her
because she was as highly regarded to Donald as the wife they never approved
of.
Although she meant them no real harm, Julia
nonetheless kept them in the dark, seeing no reason to let them know that she
had no intention of interfering with their incomes, because her father's
holdings were still ongoing and managed by efficient accountants. However, that
did not mean she could not enjoy herself at their expense for a little while.
Still, the pleasure soon dwindled as a new threat began appearing on the
horizon.
Roderick Packard, despite her best attempts to convey
the message that she wanted little to do with him, was an insistent visitor to
the house. While she tried not to be unkind because he had a manner about him
that could inspire menace if properly provoked, Julia had no intention of
giving him any false hopes that that she might be in the least interested in
pursuing a friendship with him. Only his death had stopped the plans her father
never had a chance to bring to fruition when he had first approached Packard.
Julia had no wish to fall in the same trap again.
However, Packard was not the only problem.
Unfortunately, the word was out all across Philadelphia society that a very
eligible heiress had suddenly come into a considerable fortune. That sort of
news was enough to send every fortune hunter in the state scurrying in her
direction. Very soon, Julia was becoming inundated with invitations to tea from
dowagers whom had previously looked down upon her, having properly been
informed of her wanton behaviour by her loving
relations. Apparently the money seemed to have created a vortex of amnesia
because no one seemed to remember her past reputation.
Julia knew there was only one man she wanted and as
soon as she was able, she instructed detectives to find out if Ezra Standish
was still in the town of Four Corners and if not, where was he? Their services
had not come cheaply but fortunately, they were well worth the investment. In a
matter of days after her initial inquiry, Julia Pemberton was told that Ezra
Standish was indeed in Four Corners, being one of seven men charged to protect
the township from the bad elements of the Territory.
Julia remembered reading the report and thinking with
a faint smile that the seven men charged with maintaining law and order were
the bad element. Still, knowing Ezra was in Four Corners gave the heiress a
great deal of relief. The fortune hunters that were after her inheritance had
come out of the woodwork with a vengeance. It did not help matters that she was
an extremely woman but coupled with the fact that she was a young millionaire,
the men who came courting for her hand saw this a mere bonus to the robust
fortune that would become theirs to control upon the betrothal.
It was not to say that the men vying from her
attentions were less than perfect. Not all of them were like Roderick Packard
whose interest in Julia actually eclipsed the money she had inherited. While he
would have been ecstatic, as any man might have been to acquire such a fortune,
he was more interested in the family from which Julia came. Packard was known
as new money to the traditionally upper classes of Philadelphian society. Such
men had trouble gaining acceptance into the social circle of the elite. While
Packard was liked by some and tolerated by others of this select group, he
could never hope to counted as one of them.
That is unless he married well.
Despite the fact that she was considered a wanton in
Philadelphia society, Julia was still an Avery and to Packard that was the
vehicle in which he would ride into the company of the elite. They would accept
him begrudgingly of course but tradition would demand that he be accepted,
nonetheless. Thus, he was determined and resolute in his desire to win the
affections of the young lady that would make his dreams come true.
Julia knew this of course and she held him at arm's
length. In fact, she pushed them all away where once she would have made them
tear each other apart for her amusement. Unlike Packard, not all her suitors
were coarse and unrefined. Some were polished like fine stones, while others
were beautiful to the point that they would be completely boring outside the
bedroom. Julia had no need of such distraction and found herself thinking as they
paraded themselves before her, that none had the charm or the character of a
gambler who was willing to con a bunch of marauding drunks with a card and gun
with one live bullet and five blanks.
When she had discovered that Ezra was where he was in
Four Corners, continuing with his life as always, with the notable exception of
her acceptance, Julia found the first bright spark in her life following the fulfilment of what she once thought to be her perfect
dream. Two million dollars had become a millstone around her neck from which
Julia had not the strength to discard. She needed to find Ezra, to have him
tell her that this was going to be a nightmare from which she would awake.
Julia did not care that he would not even know her if she were to seek him out.
She had made him love her once. Julia was absolutely
certain she could do it again.
Still, Packard might prove to be a problem. The
reasons for his determination to marry her were also adequate reasons as far as
Julia was concerned for him to pursue her. She remembered the difficulties
endured by Alexandra Styles when Randall Mason had appeared in town and she had
no intention of enduring a similar situation with Packard. He was rich and used
to getting what he wanted in life, managing his fortune as easily as he managed
the people who ran it for him. If he suspected things might not go his way,
Julia had no doubt that he would resort to extreme measure to see to it that it
did.
Fortunately, Julia had a plan. She always did and the
intellect of Roderick Packard and the likes of him were easily circumvented
because they possessed an arrogance about them that enforced the belief that
the will to do a thing could make up for the lack of ability. In truth, Julia's
plan had even more far reaching consequences than anyone who have guessed,
should she be forced to remain in this strange reality where wishes came true
in the worst possible way.
It was a plan to rid herself of fortune hunters, the
would be husbands and the sycophants who would do anything for her just to be
thrown scraps from her table.
To be free of Packard and others of his kind, she had
to married. Fortunately for Julia, she had just the perfect candidate in mind.