Chapter Text
Turned out it took more than a week for the seven men to leave the village. Chris supposed he should be glad he hadn’t found actual hired guns, who might demand a bonus for work above and beyond.
Vin was gliding cautiously through the air by that second night, though he admitted it was sore and slow going. Nathan had given him a poultice to bring down the swelling in his flying wrist, but the hunter was still skittish about showing his wings, so he probably didn’t use it as much as he should. Nathan threw up his hands and let him be until he could focus on learning more about how the wing worked so he could heal it up better.
It was two more days after that before anyone could look Standish in the eye without flinching. Except, of course, the young villagers who flocked around him as soon as he could walk outside without squinting. Cold Wind’s “fire eyes” were fascinating. And if it got the gambler out of more than his fair share of the hard labor he seemed to avoid like the plague, he was clearly not complaining.
Of course, neither were the village adults, who saw immediately that Mr. Ezra could get their children to do more work than they could. Chris just shook his head, still wondering what the hell he’d been thinking bringing that one on board. Though watching Akando help carry stones across the valley, his gunshot arm healed up and healthy thanks to Nathan, he figured it was almost worth it.
Another day, and Nathan was finally leaving his tent for more than food and bodily functions. Resting when he had to and pushing himself too damn hard, he’d healed what he could of what was left, though Chris noticed that he left Hettie Mae to her double vision and pounding head. He’d set the gash in her forehead to healing, but left the rest, saying she’d be fine after some rest. Wasn’t a surprise that he didn’t even bother to offer anything more than a pain-killing tea to Standish, but it was different to see the gambler actually take it and say thank you.
Maybe Imala wasn’t the only one to learn a lesson in tolerance.
The village was coming back to life, and none of Anderson’s men had been seen since Corcoran had rounded them up and set off for home—or at least somewhere not here—with Anderson and the other dead piled, shrouded, in the wagon they’d brought the cannon in. Death in, death out, and death back in again. It was the way war worked, and Chris was glad to see that one done with.
Almost.
The battle wasn’t truly over until five days after the final shot, when Buck stepped out into the sunshine, professing hunger and looking nearly himself, if a little slower than normal and with his arm in a sling. Nathan had been careful with him and one of the Seminole women who’d been shot in the belly, healing them both in slow stages so Buck wouldn’t start bleeding again and the woman might have a hope of children in her future.
Watching Nathan, driven by a compulsion to heal more than a calling, reminded him of Peg, which reminded him of… too damn many things. There were times he cursed the years he’d had. Times he wished he had never let his anger at his father and his dissatisfaction with life on the farm drive him to adventure in Texas.
When you were hip-deep in mud and blood with cannons bearing down on you, life on the farm seemed pretty damn perfect.
“Well, now, I didn’t mean nothing by it,” he heard Buck stammer in that charming way of his. “Just being friendly. We’re all friends here now, ain’t we?”
And then there were times like this.
Chris smirked as Buck sauntered slowly away from whatever confrontation he’d been having and made his way to the log next to Chris’s at one of the small fires just outside the village proper. The sun was going down, and the people had cause to take a break after another long day.
The last of the graves had been dug three days ago, and the official mourning would be done tomorrow evening. Chris and Vin would be gone by dawn.
“They can still string you up, you know, Buck?” he said quietly. “Sure you want to give up that new chance at life so easily?”
“Ah hell, Chris, you know me,” Buck replied, the comment sliding off his back as usual. “Just having some fun. New chance ain’t worth much without a little fun, right?”
“I reckon not,” Chris allowed.
“Speaking of new chances,” Buck said pointedly, looking out into the falling night. “I figure you and Vin’ll be moving on soon?”
Damn the man. “Figure so.” It should have felt wrong—to move on without Buck. To leave him behind when they’d spent most of Buck’s grown life on the trail together, but…
“I’m glad.”
Chris looked up at him, disbelieving. But there was clear sincerity mixed in with the sadness in Buck’s eyes. “Come on, old man. You didn’t think we were going tour the west together forever.” He sighed. “He’s a good man, Chris, but he’s got a fear in him and... “ He grinned big. “Well, hell, you’ve always been good at handling other people’s fears.”
“But not my own,” Chris returned, knowing that was the gist of the statement, spurred by what happened in Parkerstown. He was scared, he guessed. Scared he’d live forever. Scared he wouldn’t. Scared he’d take too damn many other people with him when he went.
Maybe… Maybe being whatever Erskine and Peg had seen in him—the Leader, not the Soldier—was the way to make it through the tomorrows. They wouldn’t be endless. Anderson had taught him that, though he guessed he already knew.
“You could come with us,” he offered, thinking Vin wouldn’t mind, and if he did, Buck would know it and wouldn’t say yes.
Buck was silent a long spell. “Ain’t sure I’ll say yes this time, Chris.” He chuckled at the surprise that Chris knew only showed in his soul. Buck looked across the fire and over to where Ezra and JD were just parting ways, JD laughing and happy. Buck couldn’t hear it, but they were talking about ways Ezra could’ve used JD’s trick instead of his own all these years. “I reckon that kid is me, huh?” he said gently. “All these years, I’ve had no idea why you kept me around, and I’m sure he’ll be asking himself the same question if he survives his own stupid, but…”
Chris let the silence between them just be as they watched JD head for his bedroll, because Buck would know exactly what he was feeling, and telling the younger man how proud he was would only start Buck off on a verbal smokescreen, designed to hide himself from himself.
It was the one secret Chris kept from Buck; that he knew exactly what the whore’s son thought of himself. Buck was the only one with such a low opinion, Chris was sure.
“Hope he ain’t as much trouble as you’ve been all these years,” he said finally.
“Me?” Buck said incredulously, true to form. “I’ve been nothing short of astounding!”
“You know that word doesn’t have to be positive,” Ezra said, walking up out of the darkness and taking a seat across the fire. Chris had smelled him coming but hadn’t bothered to remark. It was funny how the silver smelled even when he kept it in. Not as much as when he was invisible, but there. Like a marker.
“Now what is that supposed to mean?” Buck asked, cranky and loving it.
“There’s astoundingly slow-witted,” Ezra began. “Astoundingly dense. Astoundingly loud—”
“Astoundingly sick of the train of this conversation,” Josiah put in, sitting next to Buck. He smelled like fresh-turned earth; fresh graves or planted cropland. Always. Chris had no idea if it was a smell that was in his nose or in his mind. Josiah was contrary that way.
“Astoundingly in need of a drink!” Buck said, grinning at the old man, who happened to have a bottle in his hand. It was passed over, and Buck drank a long draught before sighing. “Hell, just about now, I think it’s astounding to be sitting here breathing.”
Chris couldn’t come up with a reply to that. He’d lost a whole hell of a lot of people in his life—people as close to him as Buck, closer even—but he just couldn’t think on what it would have been like to lose again. Not so soon after Sarah and Adam.
“Our Mr. Tanner has been absent this evening,” Ezra said, taking his flask out and sharing in the drinking. “I trust nothing’s amiss?”
“Wing’s hurting him, I think,” Chris replied quietly. “He’s got himself a place up on the ridge where he can sleep without folding up.”
Buck snorted. “God damn, it’s a hell of a world, isn’t it?” he mused. “Don’t matter how many years I’ve known you, or the stories you’ve told, but Chris, really—a man with wings, hiding out in his nest?” He chuckled. “Foolish of him, really,” he added. “Seems there are at least a few women here wouldn’t mind nesting up there with him.”
Chris smirked, clamping down tight on his feelings. “Didn’t say he was alone.” Though he had no idea one way or the other.
Ezra sighed and drank again. “And now I know far more about Mr. Tanner than I’d ever want to.” He rose, stiff and awkward suddenly. “I believe I must say my goodbyes, gentlemen,” he said quietly. “I’ll be off in the morning.” He looked around at the houses that had been rebuilt. The children playing safely by the fires. “We appear to have accomplished the goal we set out to, yes?” It was actually a question, strangely, directed at Chris.
He grinned. “You did good, Ezra,” he told him, seeing Buck smirk stupidly at his side when Ezra’s eyes widened at the praise. “It’s been a pleasure.”
“Likewise, Mr. Larabee,” Ezra said seriously, though it took him a second to find his voice.
“You’ll want to lay in some supplies,” Josiah said, rising as well. “I’m headed back to Four Corners myself. Wouldn’t mind a bit of company.”
Ezra nodded, still seeming unsure of himself. “I would have assumed you and Nathan would be riding together.”
Josiah smiled softly and looked toward the main fire in front of the meeting hall, where Rain and Nathan sat close. “Nathan has his own path, my friend.”
Buck’s grin turned randy. “Well deserved it is, too.” He looked up at both men. “Was a hell of a ride, boys,” he told them truly. “The one thing I won’t miss is your godawful snoring, Josiah.”
“And being shot at,” Josiah lobbed back.
“Well, yeah, that of course.” Chris watched the man’s gaze roam the village, watched a satisfied smile take up residence. “I reckon we should all be moving on,” he said. “Leave these people to their homes.”
Chris agreed. They’d done what they could, which had turned out to be a hell of a lot. But ultimately, every person’s life was his own. And only one of the seven of them had a life here in this village.
Ezra and Josiah faded into the night, Buck following not long after, and Chris sat by his fire, waiting for dawn with more contentment than he’d known in a long while.
********
Vin wasn’t the least surprised to see everyone packing up when he looked down from the bluff as dawn broke across the valley. Hell, even the villagers seemed to know it was time for the seven of them to be on their way, the children moving about even earlier than they’d been doing in the time they were here, the adults already cooking up a morning meal and seeing to the houses they were still rebuilding.
Buck was already hassling JD, which made Vin smile. He reckoned Buck’d got himself a hell of a project in that boy, and figured it would be damn worth it in the end. He hadn’t been lying to JD—it took a good soul to throw those guns away instead of turning them on their owners. There was a light in that boy, and Vin hoped Buck could get it shining proper-like.
Josiah was sitting quietly on a rock next to his horse, smiling and sage and reminding Vin of every wise man he ever knew. He looked up as Ezra stumbled a bit as he headed to pack up his horse, and then laughed loud by the look of it, at whatever the gambler had said.
Ezra was moving slow, but it was probably more sleep than pain that plagued him today. His headache had gone he’d said, and Vin had already noticed his temperature going back to normal directly after the battle. Must’ve had something to do with the way he wore himself out being invisible so much.
Chris was looking at him, which was also to be expected. He’d left his saddlebags and such packed and ready down by the horses, figuring to fly a little this morning. His flying wrist still ached, but he could take a fair downstroke now without wanting to scream. It would be good to get in the air again.
But Chris was waiting.
He sighed, not seeing Nathan and realizing the black man meant to stay here, at least for a while. With a girl like Rain around, Vin might have, too, if he was him.
He wadded his shirt and stuck it in his belt, tied his gun down tight, and stepped to the edge of the bluff. He could clearly see all of them down there. Chris was watching him without staring, Ezra had seen him there, but was busy with his own affairs, Imala and his wife and another woman were looking up at him, the woman saying something to someone else, and suddenly more people had turned their heads his way.
Too damn many people. He’d been on display before, in Tascosa, chained up, his wings shackled so they couldn’t be closed but couldn’t be used; stared at and poked and prodded and made a freak and—
His eyes sought safety and his gaze landed on Chris.
Come on down, Vin, Chris’s lips said. It’s okay.
And suddenly, it was. Damned if Vin knew how, but it was really okay. He spread his wings, the left one still aching and awkward, and dove into the air, gliding softly and carefully to the valley below, far enough from the horses not to spook them.
“Soaring Soul!” Tastanagi called, approaching him as Chris did. Vin sighed at the name, but resigned himself to it, while he folded his wings away, the left one still an unsightly bulge under his shirt as he slipped the clothing on. “Come. I must show you something.”
Vin shot Chris a questioning look, but got only confusion back, so the two of them fell in line behind the old man, who lead them across the valley floor to the graveyard that had seen far too much activity of late.
“Why’re you bringing us here?” Vin asked, trying not to look at the stands of wood that served as headstones.
“I have brought you here to give you my condolences,” Tastnagi said grimly, leading them to the back edge of the newly turned section of graves.
“We should be doing that for you, Tastanagi,” Chris said, confused. But then he stopped dead in front of a grave Vin didn’t remember seeing before and smiled.
“You’ll be missed, Tanner,” he said softly.
Vin looked at the marker, and while he couldn’t recognize more than an handful of words, there were two he knew well: Vin Tanner. He looked up at the old Seminole. “Why?”
“It would be foolish to search for a winged man who is already dead, don’t you think?” Tastanagi said. “We owe you all our lives.”
Vin grinned, feeling a weight lift off of him. “The least you could do was take mine.”
*********
“Mr. Ezra! Mr, Ezra!”
Akando, Jirna, and Ola came running up to him, all expecting and receiving a warm embrace. They were truly wonderful children. He might miss them.
“Are you really leaving?” Jirna asked, devastated as only a ten-year-old can be. It rang uncomfortably close to Ezra’s memories of his mother’s numerous departures, and he shook off the similarities.
“I must, my young brave,” he said, kneeling to be at a better level with them all. “But I leave the village in your care,” he told them sternly. “I shall expect you to watch over it.”
“Ezra?” Akando asked seriously. “Can I come?”
“A brave warrior like you?” Ezra replied, horrified. “As I’ve said, you’ve got to stay here and protect the village.” Akando pouted, but nodded his agreement. Ezra smiled. “Now, you remember what I taught you?”
“Never draw to an inside straight,” the boy replied dutifully.
Ola smacked him in the arm. “No, silly,” she corrected, eyes shining. “Always be willing to fight for what’s right.” She looked up at him, clearly misinterpreting his shock for censure. “RIght, Cold Wind?” She added uncertainly.
Was that what he had taught them? Really? Ezra shook himself and smiled, gathering them in for a massive hug. “Just so, young lady,” he murmured. “Just so.”
Nathan appeared from the direction of the tent that was no longer used for the wounded, his medical kit and saddlebags weighing him down. It was strange how Ezra saw him in such a different light now. He was certainly not going to allow the man to lay hands on him, and the truth of the South would likely always make them wary of each other, but Nathan… He was just a man, really, wasn’t he?
“I thought you were staying,” Josiah said from his perch on his rock, smiling wide. “What changed your mind?”
Lord, were they going to play that game again? If Nathan was dreaming of birds as well, Ezra might just stock up in Eagle’s Bend instead.
Nathan’s reply was a comfort. “It sure wasn’t your damn birds, old man,” he groused playfully. He looked back at Rain, who smiled and looked content with his leaving. “I reckon Rain’s got some healing to do that I can’t help with, and…” He shrugged, as if to say he hadn’t a clue why he was all packed up and ready to go.
Ezra cleared his throat, ushering the trio of children back to their chores. “Are you up to riding with a, uh, good old Southern boy?” he asked, watching Nathan saddle his horse. Whatever he’d come to think of Nathan, the fact of the matter was that an ex-slave would have no desire to ride with a Confederate soldier.
And it appeared Nathan was thinking something similar. Except that, after a long moment of tying down his gear, the black man turned a tentative smile on him. “Reckon you’ve shown your colors,” he said quietly. “Long as you don’t want me to play poker with you.”
Ezra pulled himself up into his saddle with a grin. “Good Lord, whatever else would we do?”
Chris and Vin walked toward the group of them, Tastanagi with them and smiling.
“We’ll leave you now,” Chris said, as if it were some solemn handing over of sovereignty. “You keep that gold, in case you need it the next time.”
Damn that gold anyway. Lord, he wasn’t even going to get paid for all of this!
“The next time,” Tastanagi said sagely, “we will welcome our enemies with great hospitality.”
“I think you mean hostility,” Chris replied, but almost as if he was waiting for the end of a joke.
Tastanagi didn’t disappoint. “No. Hospitality. I will even open the doors of my home to them.”
The door to the building that had indeed once been the chief’s home opened, and the old cannon stared them all in the face. Ezra had inspected it and the cannonballs they’d retrieved after the barrage. Anderson hadn’t left much ordinance for it, but they’d be able to get off a few good shots. He’d spent some time discussing the mechanics of the weapon with a few of the men, and they understood the basic functions of loading and aiming—far more than he himself had when he fired his first round.
Chris smiled wryly. “That will do it.”
“Know that you will always be welcome in our village,” the old man said, looking around to include the rest of them. “All of you.”
Ezra tipped his hat, as did Buck and Josiah. JD and Nathan simply nodded.
Chris and Vin mounted their horses and Ezra almost laughed. They’d all said their goodbyes last night. They’d been ready and content to go their separate ways… And yet here they were, leaving as the unit they’d arrived.
Well no, he thought, as they moved out, seven abreast. Not the same as that. They were… different. He smirked. Yes, different in Buck Wilmington’s use of the term, of course, but also different in the way they saw each other. And perhaps themselves.
“Where’re you headed?” JD asked him. “I mean—I know you were heading to Four Corners to stock up, but after that?”
Ezra sighed. “I’m not entirely sure, Mr. Dunne,” he replied. “I had originally thought Denver, but…” He grinned. “I expect I’ll head wherever the wind takes me.”
Josiah chuckled, but didn’t speak.
“It’s always worked for me,” Vin said happily.
“Yeah, but you can fly,” Buck shot back. He looked over at JD. “Just like this boy here!”
“Shut up, Buck!” JD whined. He perked up immediately. “I was thinking Texas!”
“No.” Chris and Vin said it together, with such fervency, it was disconcerting.
“Texas ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, kid,” Vin explained without explaining a damn thing. “Leastwise for people like us.”
“And what exactly are ‘people like us’?” Ezra wanted to know. In the worst possible way.
“Whirlwinds,” Josiah replied, a crazy smile on his face and an almost joyful gleam in his eye. “Whirlwinds that may fly apart, but will always spin back together.”
“Well, now, that’s just depressing, Mr. Sanchez,” he said coldly.
Still, he couldn’t deny that Four Corners held a certain charm. Surely it couldn’t hurt to stay.
For just a little while…
*****
the end
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, YOU ASK?
Well, now that’s entirely up to you.
What happened in Parkerstown? “Massacre at Myersville,” Josiah? Do tell! Wonder what it was like for Vin in Tascosa?
THEN WRITE!
This AU is open to all. The bible can be found here, and if you really want to ask me a question about anything in the universe, that’s the place to do it. I encourage people to write whatever the heck you want, though, beyond what I’ve written there.
I cannot WAIT to see what you all come up with!
Thank you for sticking with me in this journey. Please take it another step, won’t you?
Deannie