Your willow heart, always bending to the point of breaking.
N.M. Kelby
Chris nearly hit the steps before Vin got to him. He hadn't felt this bad since that time in prison, and the ghosted memory of that pain and helplessness came to him, the dread sinking into his bones. How much could his body really take, so many torturous events after another? How long before he couldn't save himself, or someone save him? Vin had come to find him then; Vin had come to find him now.
As Vin caught him and helped him hobble down the stairs, his heart was finally willing to confirm something it hadn't fully accepted before -- that he could never be lost again. He let Vin pull him close, the husk he had become collapsing in Vin's arms.
Chris turned to him --Vin's face was blistered and burnt, streaked with blood and marked by insect bites, and underneath those wounds there was a huge swelling on his forehead from where he'd been hit. It looked like his jaw was swollen too, which filled Chris with despair over what he'd been through. All because of him, because of his mistakes.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Vin steered Chris over to the settee and sat beside him, looking him over. He couldn't find his voice; not because of thirst or pain, but because he saw Chris's wounds and there was nothing he could do but choke on his rage and hopelessness. "What did she do to you?" he whispered. "My God. What did she do?" He gently pulled Chris's shirt over his chest, not even attempting to button it.
Chris didn't speak, just leaned back and closed his eyes. But he put his hand on Vin's arm.
"We best get out of here and get you to Nathan." Vin smoothed Chris's hair back. Then he lost what little composure he had and choked out, "I can't believe I let this happen!"
"Not your fault," Chris said slowly. "You found me. Even if I hadn't got away, you'd have come for me." He gave his best attempt at a smile, but knew he was failing miserably.
"Can you walk? Your ankle's wrecked, ain't it? And your arm?"
"Shoulder. Can't tell if it's broken or dislocated."
"We need Nathan," Vin repeated.
"Yup." Chris tried to rise but stumbled, and Vin put his hands under Chris's arm and gently assisted him. They walked out the door toward the corral, but then Vin stopped and said, "Wait. The carriage." It was still in the wagon yard; they must have brought Chris here in it and left it when they returned from his place. He helped Chris into the back and tucked a seat blanket over him kindly, and said, "Just stay here, I'll get the horses." He didn't know how much longer he could last himself, his legs trembled with every step, but he had to stay strong for Chris. He slowly brought two horses over and hitched them up as best he could, then climbed into the seat with great difficulty. Just as the carriage started rolling forward, Vin abruptly stopped it.
From behind him, Chris mumbled something as he stopped. All Vin said was, "Wait. There's something I need to do." He got down and limped over to the house, where inside he took some matches, then stepped back outside on the porch. Along the walls hung fancy fuel lamps, and Vin pulled hard with every ounce of strength he had left, ripping a couple from the woodwork. He smashed the lamps against the floorboards, trailing a bit of the kerosene away from the step. Then he took a deep breath and lit a few matches, dropping them onto the kerosene puddles. They flared up and he dashed back to the carriage as fast he could in his condition, snapping the traces as he raced them away from the house. One last look over his shoulder told him that the fire was spreading along the wall and soon would take over the whole house.
Chris didn't object. He lay quietly in the seat watching what Vin was doing, satisfied. Vin hadn't even asked him if Ella was dead; he just assumed that if Chris was there, Ella was gone. And this was enough for Chris, now, to have everything about her purged from his life. Fire was fear, fire was loss and tragedy and suffering; but now, at last, fire was cleansing.
As they cleared the hill and the soft breeze carried the smoke above the property, Vin heard horses approaching them. He pulled out the revolver, but knew that he was hopelessly under-armed right now. Through the trees he recognized a familiar color, though -- the legs of Buck's big grey, and then he saw Buck, who rode fast toward him.
"Oh, thank God," Buck shouted at him as he reined hard to a stop. Ezra and Nathan rode up right behind Buck. "We saw the smoke." Buck needn't finish his thought; they all knew what his first notion had been.
"Chris is in real bad shape, Nathan," Vin said, motioning at his friend. "Burns, broken bones."
Nathan had hurriedly dismounted and was already clambering into the carriage while Chris was trying to wave him off. "Oh, my..." Nathan trailed off, looking up at Vin with horrified eyes. He gave Chris some water from his canteen and said quietly to Vin, "I don't have what I need. Let's get him home. Now." As Nathan got out of the carriage, he grabbed Vin's arm. "You ain't much better. You go on now, get in the back." Nathan nodded to Ezra, who dismounted and tied his horse to the back of the carriage, then got in the seat being vacated by Vin.
Nathan helped Vin in and gave him their canteens, before getting back on his own horse. Buck was watching them anxiously, unable to speak, overwhelmed by the circumstances they'd found Chris and Vin in. "Let's go, as fast as we can," he said, and spurred his horse.
Vin leaned against Chris, wrapping the blanket more tightly around him. He said to Ezra's back, "I'm sorry. I had to do it. Guess I ruined your plans."
Ezra turned to him as the carriage jolted forward. "On the contrary, my friend. If you hadn't done it, I'd have done it myself." Vin sat back and concentrated his attention on Chris, preparing for the long ride back.
Waking in the early evening the next day, Vin looked around his room, completely confused by his location for a moment, fear seizing him by the throat. Where was he, and where was Chris? It took him a few moments before he could calm down to realize he was safe at home, and Chris was at Nathan's being taken care of.
He felt as though he would be thirsty for days. His lips were still cracked and scabbed, and the bites and sunburn had left him feeling like a piece of rancid meat, but all those things would heal in time. After he got up, he dressed and drank down the entire pitcher of water they'd left for him on the chest in the corner. He sat down for a while, all done in just from that much activity. Presently, he got up, breathing shallowly. Looking in the mirror, he thought he'd never seen such an unappealing face in his life. It was enough to make him laugh, thinking of Chris recoiling from him in this damaged state.
After getting some food at the saloon -- not much, as it almost hurt to eat -- he went over to Nathan's, but ran into Ezra on the way there.
"You're looking a bit better. The sleep helped, I'm sure," Ezra said kindly, a tone of voice that always surprised Vin a little.
"Considering how I spent half the time out of my head, you'd think I wouldn't need more sleep," Vin replied.
"I'm just glad -- we're all glad you're all right."
"Chris still at Nathan's?"
"Buck and I just left. He was sleeping, but not well, and he's in a great deal of pain." He looked down at his boots, then up at Vin. "Everyone is already speculating about it in their own way. Mrs. Travis tried to ask, in her oblique manner, without really asking. The rest of the boys are wondering. I know. Not our business, but there is much concern for you. I don't want to ask, but... what did she do to you both? How could such a thing happen?"
Vin looked down the street, aware that this would go on for some time, and could even affect their positions here in town. No one would push, no one would ask any more than Ezra had, but these events would sow a seed of doubt. They would have to work to prove themselves again. He thought of Josiah's comment that Chris had been brought here by a greater power, that God or fate or something else had brought him to them to heal, to become a new person. He'd believed that then, but now Vin wasn't so certain. How could Chris come back from this? If he'd learned to live with his sorrows before, what would he do with these fresh ones? Maybe shove Vin further away than ever, or reject Buck and the friendship of the others. He didn't like the possibilities.
Or maybe he'd let them find him again the way he had before. It was something to hope for. "I don't know, Ezra," Vin said quietly. He scratched his chin, the beard growth itching his ravaged face. "But it's over now." He didn't want to say how shaky he felt about moving on and his doubts about Chris, not now. Maybe later if he reckoned Ezra could really understand.
Ezra said, "No gossip will be allowed within my earshot."
Vin smiled at him. "I know." He paused for a moment. "Your Derringer saved our lives." Vin nodded at him and Ezra shook his hand, before walking away.
He should go see Josiah. When they'd first arrived, in the commotion of taking care of Chris, Josiah had tended to Vin's wounds and helped him get cleaned up. Mary Travis had come to help him, because she could do nothing for Chris, really, but her intense concern had left him feeling stifled and shy. Vin had pushed Josiah and her away as quickly as he could, agreeing to sleep, to eat and drink, if they would just leave him alone to lick his own wounds. Of course they wished to know everything, to understand what had brought this to pass, but he could not tell them and they would not ask, at least not anything beyond what Ezra had just asked him. Not now, maybe not ever. Josiah, Vin knew, would understand it all eventually, anyway. That was his trait, to think on things and understand what was in people's souls. It would satisfy him if Josiah explained to the others what had happened.
Up the stairs above the livery, Vin walked into the room and said hello softly to Nathan, who was sleeping in his chair by the window. Nathan woke slowly and looked at Chris, then at Vin. "You want to stay with him?" he asked, yawning.
Vin could smell the ointment-soaked bandages that had been wrapped over Chris's burns, the pungent odor of Nathan's herbs. Chris's ankle was tightly bound and resting on a few feather pillows, his arm bound close to his side. Nathan had cleaned him up, which Vin was grateful for; he knew how much that would matter to Chris.
"I'll stay tonight. I'm all sleeped out now, so you go get yourself a good night's rest." Vin looked at Chris. "Is there anything else he needs I should know about?"
"Nah, I gave him some medicines, and put some salve on his burns."
Vin could tell Nathan was wondering how the burns came to be, but Vin turned his face away, unable to let himself answer, knowing Nathan would not pry.
Nathan looked at Vin's face and handed him some foul-smelling unguent that looked like bear grease that had turned. Nathan motioned at him and said, "For you. You ain't exactly in better shape, yourself."
Vin just nodded in response.
"I'll be back in the morning, then, if you can take that much sittin' up."
"I'm fine now." He didn't want to let Nathan know how bad he still felt, about the fear that had settled like some eely thing, cold and slimy in the pit of his stomach. But Vin could tell Nathan didn't believe him anyway by the look the big man gave him.
After Nathan left, Vin slid the bolt across the door and crawled onto the bed next to Chris, not too close, just enough to feel the lack of heat coming from his body. He pulled the blanket up over Chris's chest and rested his hand on the left hip, the only place on Chris that didn't bear some kind of wound or injury.
After a bit, Chris woke up, and turned to Vin. "Now who's the idiot watching someone sleep?" It had been so many years since he'd wakened to that feeling of sweetness, seeing the face of someone he cared so much for right next to him.
"Just glad to have you to watch."
Chris put his good hand awkwardly on Vin's arm. "Be kind of hard to explain if Nathan comes back."
"I put the bolt on the door. 'sides, he's planning on sleeping all night." Vin raised himself up on his arm and looked down at Chris. The shifting made Chris wince, though, and Vin could feel that same overwhelming grief inside him at what this had come to. "Lemme get off this thing and give you some room." He moved as gently as he could off the bed. Vin pulled up the chair next to the bed.
"Water?" Chris asked, and Vin helped Chris sit up, before giving him a glassful. "Won't even ask you for some whisky, because I know you won't give it to me."
"Not now. Maybe tomorrow. Doc's orders."
"Yeah, yeah. Why is it they have to take the fun out of everything?"
Vin didn't answer, just sat and looked at Chris, glad of seeing his humor back. It was one tiny crumb of something positive in this.
"You're a sight for sore eyes." Chris hated being helpless in this bed, especially because he wanted nothing more than to hold on to Vin for dear life. Even if everything hadn't capsized like this, leaving him floundering in the wake, he'd have felt that way. He knew it with complete certainty. Felt that overwhelming tenderness, that need again after these fearful days. Vin was wearing the faded red shirt Chris liked, dark brown trousers, no jacket or hat, not even his gun. He looked so open and trusting being here like that, Chris thought, though he could not name why.
"Think it's more like I could give someone sore eyes from looking at me. I'm a mess."
"You're wonderful." Chris was so grave about it that he almost made himself laugh. But he was in too much pain to laugh.
They let the silence settle on the room like dust, just watching each other. Chris would sometimes doze and then awaken, always starting when he did, still not certain he was here and safe. Safe because he was with Vin.
Reaching into his pants pocket, Vin pulled out the soft doeskin bag he'd had before and put it next to him. Chris looked inside it, wondering what he could have in there this time, and saw two feathers and a tan-colored powder, probably a ground root, some strong medicine he'd have picked up from the people he'd lived with. "Eagle feathers," Vin said. "To help you heal. More superstition," he added, smiling.
The sorrow and the devotion he felt for Vin at that moment almost choked him. These tenderhearted, spare gestures of his moved Chris so much. He knew he could never live his life again without this friendship.
By and by he felt the strength to talk again, and said quietly to Vin, "I killed her. She was going to kill me, anyway. I think she wanted me to and let her guard down. I shot her in the chest, and watched her watching me. But I didn't care if she shot me first. Because I thought you were dead."
The words Vin had said to him before, about always finding him, hadn't been enough to carry him through it then. But he couldn't tell Vin that.
"It's over now." He knew, though, that it would never really be over for Chris, or even for him when he looked at Chris. Each time Vin would see those scars -- either the physical ones or the ones in his soul -- he'd remember her and everything she'd done to them, to Chris's family. You could heal, but you were never unmarked from such events.
"Even when she was trying to sweet-talk me, or convince me she was loving and good, there was something in her face, something that looked different. I recognized it this time, even though I couldn't before. Something wrong."
"What'd it look like?" Vin gazed down at his hands, then back up at Chris from under his brows.
He thought for a while. "Like death." Chris wondered if you could ever really say you loved death. Maybe you'd embrace it when it found you, maybe you were so weary of life you thought death could be your friend if it took you away, but could you love it? Could you love someone who carried it inside them?
Vin looked out the window, trying to push back the need to apologize to Chris again or ask him for forgiveness. But it overpowered him. "I let you down. I said I'd always be there and I wasn't. Wouldn't blame you if you never wanted a thing to do with me."
When he looked back at Chris, there was nothing on his face to betray his thoughts.
Chris's voice was edgy and quiet. "There is not one thing to forgive you for. I'm the one needs forgiving, for bringing her into your life."
"Well, I ain't gonna sit here and fight about it with you, if that's what you want." He smiled patiently.
"Damn right, you won't." Chris paused, thought for awhile, and said, "We wanted to find each other. That's what counts."
Vin reached out for Chris's hand and Chris took it, sliding his hand up to clasp Vin's forearm. Vin did the same and held tightly to him.
"I can't tell you right now what she did to me and how I felt," Chris said quietly. "But in time I will, you can depend on it. I'm just not able to right now."
In his usual manner, Vin merely nodded his head to say he understood. He sat back in the chair, still clasping Chris's wrist. Maybe Josiah and Ezra had been right, they were two of a kind. In each other they had discovered their other half; known that necessary part of the other's soul and responded. If there were better definitions of love, Vin could not come up with them himself, and this one suited him. If Chris needed to take care of someone, that was all right by Vin. He'd lived inside himself for so long and been contented with that, with his own strength and solitariness, that he hadn't known you could live otherwise until he'd met Chris and the boys. He learned over the past few years that you could let go sometimes and open yourself up, allow someone else to help you carry the weight. Chris needed someone to do those things so he could help them or connect with them, and Vin thought it would be his pleasure to do it.
They sat that way until the soft coppery edges of morning showed outside the window, hands clasped, connected, in the way Vin had hoped to feel his whole life. He was happy to wait here, and to let Chris find him.
End
10/10/01