By Brigitta B.

Slip of the Tongue

Response to the Vin Fanfic and Discussion Group August 2004 Challenge

- Vin reveals an aspect of his past.

Part 1

Corporal James Everest Paulson scanned the empty street irritably. The heat had done nothing to improve his mood… a mood he had been languishing in since the end of the war. He had spent the entire conflict praying for it to end, only to discover that once the joy of victory had faded, he was left at a loose end. So, he, Marsden, Horton, Norman and Flintoff, all members of his disbanded regiment, had decided to hang together and try to find work. After rejecting a number of jobs that didn’t satisfy their addiction to adrenaline, the group had turned to bounty hunting with good success. Five to one certainly put the odds in their favour and the thrill of the chase kept the blood pumping while the ‘fun’ afterwards provided wonderful entertainment… particularly when the bounty was wanted dead or live. With each capture they had become more brutal, discovering just how resilient the human body could be. Some men resigned themselves to their fate and died quickly. Others fought like wild animals, but the result was always the same.

In the last few weeks, Paulson and his four companions hadn’t had any success and while the lack of funds wasn’t a real concern, the boredom was, for the men had started to take out their frustrations on one another. So, they had ventured further west than usual in search of one of the many unfortunate men who had their photos on a wanted poster.

This was the fifth town they had visited in two days and it appeared it wasn’t going yield results either. The street was almost completely empty; though Paulson guessed the mob of people they had passed at the creek trying to seek relief in the small puddle had probably come from Four Corners.

Paulson stared out the window of the simple shop, waiting as his companions purchased supplies. His eyes narrowed when he spotted a man appear out of an alley between two buildings. The other’s hat covered his eyes, almost masking his face. His gait was relaxed, his long strides even and smooth. It was the hat that attracted the bounty hunter’s attention. Experience had taught him that men on the run often kept their hats low to hide their faces.

“Boys,” Paulson called. Two of the other men strode across to him immediately, following the line of his gaze. “Take a look?”

One of the bounty hunters dug a bundle of wanted posters from his pocket and began to flick through them as the others stared out the window. They watched the suspect make his way down the side of the dusty street, clearly preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Marsden stopped and smiled when he found what he was looking for. He handed the poster to Flintoff, the group’s self elected leader. “Vin Tanner. Five hundred dollars, dead or alive.”

Flintoff smiled. “Yep, I knew we‘d find one out this way. Okay, you all know what to do.” It wasn’t the five hundred dollars that appealed to the group; it was the dead or alive part. They would take this one in dead…or course, how long it took him to die it would depend on Tanner’s internal fortitude.

“You got it, Sergeant,” Marsden chuckled. Things were finally looking up for the group.

The ex-soldiers headed toward the back of the store, passed the bewildered shop owner and exited through the rear of the store. Parting, they each headed in a different direction. The five men had done this so many times in the past that it was second nature - separate, surround, and come in hard from all sides before the victim knew what had hit him. As this one was wanted dead or alive, they could ‘damage’ him in the initial capture and then have as much fun as they wanted for as long as he lasted.

***

Vin was headed for the saloon. He and Chris had agreed to meet there to play a few hands of poker. Tanner’s mind bubbled with thoughts, one in particular weighing heavily. He had been in Four Corners for a long time… too long, he feared. Originally, he had only signed on for thirty days to help keep the peace. That time had past two months earlier, but he and his friends had stayed on and they had made a difference. Now, Four Corners had a reputation in the area for being a law abiding town. Vin took some pride in that. However, the bounty on his head still invaded his dreams and nagged at him during his waking hours. It was a constant throb in the back of his mind, though these days his concern was less for himself and more for those who associated with him. Anyone who counted him as a friend automatically placed themselves in a certain amount of danger and that didn’t sit well with Vin. For this reason, Tanner had decided that he needed to move on sooner rather than later.

Moving on was what he wanted anyway… wasn’t it? He had spent the past few days trying to convince himself this was so, but deep down he knew it wasn’t true. He had become comfortable having one place to call home. Comfortable sleeping with a roof over his head. Comfortable with his place in the town and the relationships and friendships he had established. More than comfortable knowing that he had someone to watch his back. If the bounty hadn’t existed, he would have been content to stay a lot longer, but unfortunately he didn’t have that luxury.

As these and other thoughts assaulted Vin’s mind and heart, he became aware of a prickling from his senses. The warning wasn’t coming via his ears or eyes, but then, it rarely did. The warning was coming from an inner sense - more instinct than anything else. Tanner slowed his pace. He lifted his head and systematically began to scan the street, his hand dropping to his mare’s leg. He fingered the faithful weapon that had saved his life so many times in the past. Nothing appeared out of place and yet…

Vin stopped looking and allowed his other senses free reign. For some reason he couldn’t explain, his attention was drawn to a pile of crates stacked outside of Potter’s store. Tanner’s eyes pinched at the sides. There he detected a man almost completely hidden. The other was watching him with the intensity of a cougar stalking its prey. Vin tensed. He had found the source of his uneasiness. He recognised what the other man was, why he was hiding and what he wanted.

The bounty hunter’s and Tanner’s eyes met. George Marsden was startled. This dusty pile of rags had spotted him. None of the twenty-two other bounties he and his companions had captured had ever got the drop on the group of soldiers. How had this one?

Vin’s ice blue eyes cut the other man to the quick. There was something lethal in those deep pools of blue. Panicking, Marsden lifted his weapon. Tanner drew and fired, his bullet finding its mark before the other had levelled his revolver. There was a cry of rage from somewhere behind Tanner. Realizing immediately there was more than one bounty hunter, Vin started to turn, at the same time diving to the right.

Chris, who had been in the saloon waiting for his friend, heard the shot, recognised the sound as coming from a mare’s leg and immediately raced for the door. As he burst out onto the porch, his revolver already in his hand, there was a rally of shots. Helplessly, he watched Vin’s head jerk viciously as one of the bullets connected. Larabee roared in horror and dashed out into the middle of the street to where Tanner had fallen in a crumpled heap. Around Chris, four men appeared from alleys and other places of concealment. Larabee stopped over Tanner, his heart pounding in his chest. Arching his gun in a circle in an attempt to cover all four of the weapon wielding strangers who were advancing, Chris tried to focus on the men and not on Vin who was lying so still, blood gushing from a single head wound. Larabee had no idea if his friend was dead or alive. Either way, these vultures would not lay a hand on him.

Moment’s earlier, Vin’s skull had exploded with pain and before he had known it, he had been tumbling to the ground. At first, all he could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears. He forced his eyes open, but his world was spinning so violently that his stomach lurched. Knowing his survival depended on him getting to his feet, Tanner tried to get his bearings, but he couldn’t find which way was up. In his hand, he still held his mare’s leg. Aware that someone was standing over him, Vin collected his scattered thoughts. He wouldn’t die without a fight. He accepted that he wasn’t going to get out of this one. His time had come. He had always known it would happen like this… ambushed when he was alone. However, these mongrels wouldn’t take him alive. He would not hang. He would take as many of the bastards with him as possible, starting with the one standing above him!

“That’s our bounty, mister. Get out of the way,” Flintoff growled as he and his remaining men continued to advance.

Vin picked up the noise, took a few seconds to unjumble the sounds, reconstruct them as words and then comprehend them. His trigger finger relaxed. He had been about to change the religion of the man standing above him, but it sounded as if...

“Back off,” Chris snarled, half of his attention on the four strangers and the rest on Vin below him.

“Chris?” Vin responded, but the word didn’t form and came out as little more than a groan. Shutting his eyes, Tanner concentrated on getting his bearings. Chris was there. It was Chris standing over him like a sentry. Or course it was. Who else would have rushed out into the middle of a gunfight prepared to protect Vin Tanner without thought for his own safety? Only Chris Larabee. The other boys would have made a stand too, but only Chris would have ignored the danger completely to stand over his friend in the middle of a gun battle.

“He’s ours. We spotted him first,” Flintoff pointed out, his gun centred on the man in the poncho.

Noting the emotion on Larabee’s face, Horton added, “His name’s Tanner and he’s wanted for murder in the state of Texas. Wanted dead or alive. He’s our property. Walk away.”

Vin reopened his eyes. He blinked furiously to clear his blurred vision which was also obscured by blood running down his face and into his eyes. One of Larabee’s legs was close to his head. Beyond that, Vin could make out indistinct shapes. Two pairs with several feet between them.

“We’re giving you a chance to live, mister. I suggest you take it,” Norman growled.

Paulson was too enraged to say anything except, “That bastard killed Marsden!”

“In self-defence,” Chris snapped back, playing for time. He could sense Vin’s movements below him. His best friend was alive, but for how long without medical help, Chris didn’t know.

“If we have to, we’ll kill you to take him,” Flintoff threatened.

“No matter how fast you think you are, mister, you can’t take on all four of us,” Norman pointed out.

There were four of them, Vin was able to confirm. Chris couldn’t take four at once. Larabee was good, but not even he could outdraw four men at one time.

“Get the *&*# out of the way! We‘re taking him,” Paulson roared, the gun he was brandishing shaking as his body was racked by rage. “He’s gonna pay. He’s gonna die real slow.”

“Over my dead body,” Chris snarled. Clearly there wasn’t any hope of talking to save Vin‘s life. Larabee found himself ruing the fact that all five of the other peacekeepers had left to escort the wagon train. Things had been so quiet in town for so long, none of them had thought that there would be need for more than two men to stay.

Larabee flicked his eyes from one to the other of his opponents. He had promised himself some months earlier that he would choose his fights carefully. This was one fight he had no need to think about. If he had to, he would protect Vin with his own body.

“No, Chris. Walk away,” Vin ordered weakly, struggling to sit up, but the moment he moved his heavy throbbing head, his world fell out from beneath him and he experienced the sensation of tumbling again. He rode out the freefall, all the while griping the weapon in his hand. He wouldn’t allow Chris to throw his life away. The odds were too high. Chris couldn’t win this one. He had to make Larabee understand that it was too late. That the gunfighter had to walk away.

“Law says that since it’s our bullet in him, it’s our bounty,” Horton pointed out.

“I’m the law in this town,” Chris snarled. “I’m providing him with protection. Get out of my town.”

The bounty hunters paused, exchanging glances. “You’re the law?“

“I don’t care who the hell you are! He killed Marden. He dies,“ Paulson exploded. He and Flintoff were standing directly next to each other. Horton and Norman had come together several feet to their left.

“Unless you got others willing to back you up, step out of the way,” Flintoff ordered.

“Not going to happen,” Chris returned. He continued to sweep the bounty hunters, his eyes darting from one to the other. He knew he was out-gunned, but he would not allow them to take Vin. Not while he had breath in his body. His best chance was to select one pair and hope that when he was hit… for he would be… it wouldn’t be fatal and that he would be able to take care of the others before they were able to get to Vin.

“You prepared to die over some dusty pile of rags wanted for murder?” Flintoff asked, signalling Horton to begin circling to the right.

“I‘ll see you in hell,” Chris snarled, watching the bounty hunter follow his leader‘s instructions. They had realized their mistake and were trying to correct it. He needed to take his chance before they all separated.

Vin heard the words and cursed. Larabee was a stubborn bastard. Somehow Tanner had to help. Again, he tried to focus on the scene beyond Chris‘ boot.

“The two together,“ Tanner managed to force out. He should be able to take the two men still standing close together. He couldn’t see them clearly, but he wasn’t looking to aim anywhere in particular. He just had to hit them to slow them down. It would give Chris time to take care of the other two and then the gunfighter could finish off what Vin started.

His partner's words had been soft and strained, but Chris had heard them, understood the message and had faith in Vin‘s ability to carry out his part.

“NOW!” Larabee roared. In one movement, Chris Larabee drew and fired twice, his arm arching between his two targets, each shot finding its mark before the bounty hunters could return fire. Simultaneously, Tanner’s mare’s leg barked twice, the pair standing together cut down. Larabee spun toward the duo his partner had taken care of. One was dead. The other was holding his bleeding arm in shock, but lifting his weapon and aiming it at Vin. Chris fired and the bounty hunter was knocked backwards and silenced forever.

As the sound of the battle echoed out, Chris lowered his revolver. Several of the town’s residents, who had chosen not to attend the community picnic at the creek, stepped out onto the street. “Get their weapons,” Larabee shouted. Despite believing all four bounty hunters were dead, he needed to ensure they weren’t a further danger.

As soon as the men had been disarmed, Larabee swivelled and leaned down over Vin. Tanner had raised himself up onto one elbow. He was blinking furiously to remain conscious, his pale face and the front of his shirt splattered with his own blood.

“It’s over,” Chris assured, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it against the side of Vin’s head to stop the blood flow. Vin collapsed backwards, Larabee’s hand darting out and cupping his friend’s neck. Gently he lowered Vin’s tasselled head to the ground, maintaining pressure on the wound. Larabee’s heart was pounding furiously, thoughts and emotions swirling as he tried to decide exactly what he should do to help his friend. There was a hell of a lot of blood, but head wounds tended to bleed a lot, or at least, that was what Chris was telling himself at that moment.

“Chris…”

“It’s okay. They’re dead.” Larabee removed the cloth to examine the wound, grimacing as he did so. It was a nasty graze, but an inch to the right and Chris would have been burying his best friend not trying to patch him up. The only thing that had saved Tanner’s life was the fact that he had anticipated the shots and had already been diving.

Chris frowned as he tried to recollect anything and everything he had learned by watching Nathan tend to patients. Head wounds could be difficult, that much the gunfighter knew. Sometimes there were serious complications and with the healer out of town it would be up to Chris to do what was needed to stabilize Vin’s condition. From what he could see, the bullet had glanced off bone but hadn‘t penetrated Vin‘s skull. Of course, if there was damage below the surface, Vin could be in real trouble despite his apparent awareness. ‘If only Nathan had stayed,’ Chris cursed silently.

Vin moaned, reaching for his head.

Carefully, Chris brushed the injured man’s hand away. “You’re lucky they aimed for your head,” Larabee stated, trying to reassure his agitated friend.

Tanner’s blinking increased as he battled to concentrate on what Chris was saying to him. As Chris pressed the cloth back in place, Vin groaned involuntarily.

“Easy, Vin,” Chris whispered, reaching out and squeezing his friend’s shoulder. Distress was etched into the creases around Tanner‘s pain-filled eyes. Larabee watched Vin‘s Adam‘s apple jump. Again, the gunfighter applied pressure to Tanner‘s shoulder. “You’re going to need a few stitches, but your head is as hard as hell. No major damage.” Larabee prayed that was so, but he honestly couldn’t be sure.

“You?” Vin asked, struggling to focus on Larabee’s face.

Unsurprised by the fact that Vin was concerned about him despite the pain he had to be in, Chris forced a smile. “You owe me for the cost of a couple of bullets.” The gunfighter glanced over his shoulder to the people collecting. “I need a hand to get Vin inside.” His usually calm tones were high with anxiety. “And get that garbage out of the street,” he growled, indicating the five dead bounty hunters.

“Yes, Sir, Mr. Larabee.”

Vin reached up for Chris’ arm. Larabee turned back and laid his own hand over the top of Tanner’s trembling, callused fist.

“Chris, what the hell did you... ”

“Enough.” Larabee cut him off, as two men arrived to help lift the injured man. “Just lay there and relax. I’ve got it covered.”

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