Shadow and Storm

Part 3

He woke slowly, roused by the touch of light against his eyes and the heavy scent of rain-washed air. Fragmented bits of nightmares and true memories flickered through his mind in a confused swirl, disorienting him, but, before panic could set in, other scents came to him, reassuring in their deep familiarity.

Coffee and wood smoke, the faint but telling tang of tobacco, and the much more subtle but unmistakably masculine musk that seemed to twine about and mingle with every other scent.

Chris.

He knew then where he was, and relief washed through him. He was in Chris’s cabin, in Chris’s bed. He’d fallen asleep in Larabee’s arms, the man’s low voice murmuring in his ear; he remembered that. Or thought he did. Hoped he did; would be nice for that much to be true. Trouble was, his mind felt as thick and sluggish as a river of mud and just couldn’t seem to latch on to the vague thoughts and memories that flitted just out of reach like fireflies over a marsh.

But, Lord, surely Chris had been real?

He lay where he was and kept his eyes closed for long moments, listening intently for some sign, any sign, that he hadn’t simply conjured Larabee out of his need, but nearly convinced by the silence that he had. Then, clinging stubbornly to what he swore was the memory of his lover’s presence, he finally forced himself to open his eyes, hoping to see Chris hovering somewhere near but finding only an empty cabin. Disappointment welled within him.

Hell, maybe he’d only dreamed it after all.

He hated feeling this addled, hated not quite knowing what was real and what wasn’t. Well, shit, it was high time he found out! He turned onto his side, braced his hands against the mattress and pushed himself upright. And immediately discovered something that was very real. Pain erupted in his head and twisted through damn near every muscle in his body, and the world swam sickeningly around him. He groaned thickly and slumped forward, setting elbows on his knees and dropping his throbbing head into his hands.

Shit, this sure as hell wasn’t a dream!

“Vin?”

He lifted his head at the sound of Chris’s voice in the doorway and immediately wished he hadn’t. Pain hammered at his temples and his stomach heaved threateningly. He swallowed hard against the nausea and let his head fall back into his hands, trying to ride out the twin tides of pain and nausea.

“Can’t leave you alone for a minute, can I?” Chris sighed as he made his way to the bed. “You all right?”

“I look all right t’ you?” Vin rasped tightly.

Chris eased himself onto the bed at Tanner’s side and studied him through anxious eyes. Vin wore only the faded pair of underpants that Larabee had lent him yesterday in place of his own sodden and mud-stained clothes. His shoulders, back and chest were bare, the dark bruises marring them painful just to look upon, and his long hair hung about his face in a stringy, tangled mess. “You have looked better,” Chris sighed. “Maybe this’ll teach you not ta go runnin’ off into storms.”

“Had t’ leave,” Vin said hoarsely, dropping his hands from his face but not raising his head, not wanting to make the pain there any worse than it was right now. “Couldn’t stay. I jist–” He flinched violently at the sudden and horribly clear memory of Mort Adams smiling so knowingly up at him, that goddamned noose around the man’s neck. “I jist couldn’t take it no more!” he whispered.

Chris sighed and reached out, setting a gentle hand on Vin’s bowed and bruised right shoulder, easily able to feel his lover’s pain. Pain that had nothing to do with the physical. “I know,” he said softly, sadly. “But I just wish you’d come to me instead of runnin’ away. You coulda been hurt so much worse than you were, maybe even killed.”

Vin gave half-hearted shrug. “I’s doin’ all right ’til Peso went loco on me,” he muttered, knowing that wasn’t quite true. “Goddamn mule’s got a mean streak a mile wide, an’ a stubborn streak even wider!”

“Huh,” Chris grunted, frowning in vexation at the tracker who seemed determined to turn his hair from blond to gray. “Wonder who that reminds me of?”

Vin lifted his head carefully and glared weakly. “Awful damn funny fer a gunfighter, ain’tcha?” he growled. “Reckon I’d be laughin’ my ass off if m’ fool head didn’t hurt so much. Hell, mebbe you should join up with one ’a them travelin’ shows, you bein’ so entertainin’ an’ all.”

“Got a better idea,” Chris countered with a smile, strangely relieved by the tracker’s surliness. If Vin could spit and snarl, then he was all right. Or would be. “How ’bout you shut up, lay back down and let me rub some of that liniment Nathan left into these bruises. They gotta hurt like hell, and I don’t wanta spend the day listenin’ ta your whinin’.”

Vin sighed and again dropped his head into his hands as sharp hammer-strikes of pain fell against his skull with every beat of his heart. Hell, he’d almost rather take a bullet than be concussed. Goddamn headache was always slower than molasses in leaving. “Could jist shoot me instead,” he suggested miserably. “Be a helluva lot quicker.”

“Probably.” Chris moved closer and pulled Vin gently to him. “But not nearly as much fun. Besides,” he nuzzled through the unruly hair to the ear beneath and brushed his lips lightly against it, “when I do finally shoot ya, it’s gonna be ta stop my head from hurtin’, not yours.”

“Asshole,” Vin muttered even as he shivered at the touch of Chris’s mouth.

“Yeah, I know,” Chris answered without a trace of sympathy, still teasing Vin’s ear. “It’s a wonder you can put up with me.”

“Well,” Vin breathed hoarsely, closing his eyes and tilting his head to give Larabee greater access, “I reckon … ya got yer uses.”

Chris only grunted softly and shifted his attention to Vin’s neck, dragging his mouth slowly down the long column, kissing and licking a path to his shoulder. “Still want me ta shoot ya?” he finally whispered.

Vin swallowed hard and slid a hand to Chris’s thigh, digging his fingers into it as warmth flared through him. “No,” he croaked. “Kinda like … what yer doin’ now.”

Chris chuckled softly, his warm breath wringing another shiver from Vin. “How’s your headache?”

“What … what headache?”

Chris lifted his head just enough to look at Vin’s face and smiled at what he saw. The tracker’s eyes were closed, his lips parted slightly and wet, his skin suffused with a deepening flush of pleasure and want. Gone was all trace of pain, of fear. And, for this little while at least, that goddamned shadow.

It was a start.

He returned his mouth to Vin’s shoulder, showering soft, gentle kisses over the dark bruise there, and lifted a hand to Tanner’s back, stroking lightly. “Lie down,” he ordered between kisses. “On your belly. I’ll get the liniment.”

“Don’t need it,” Vin protested, not wanting this moment to end. The feather-light movements of Chris’s lips and fingers had his skin tingling and his nerves sparking, had tendrils of heat and hunger curling through his belly. “Need you.”

“You got me, partner,” Chris assured him. “But first I’m gonna take care of you.” He lifted his head from Vin’s shoulder, slipped a hand under the tracker’s chin and turned his head until their eyes met, brilliant green staring into hazy blue. “I’m always gonna take care of you, Vin,” he breathed, the soft words a vow rising from the depths of his soul. “That’s what I’m here for. But you gotta let me do it.”

“Could be … a lotta work,” Vin rasped, awed by, and not a little frightened of, the depth of the love shining in those eyes. “I been told I … I ain’t always easy … t’ take care of.”

A slow, soft smile curved about Chris’s lips and he slid a caressing thumb along Tanner’s square jaw. “That’s all right,” he said. “I plan on gettin’ in a lot of practice. And you’re worth the effort.”

Vin reached up and curled his fingers around Chris’s wrist, studying the man’s face as if he’d never seen it before, though he knew it better than his own. In that face he saw all the worry, the fear, he’d inflicted on Larabee and bowed his head again as shame and regret swept through him. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know why I make it so hard on ya. Shit, yer the finest goddamn thing I’ve ever had in my life, an’ I jist keep findin’ new ways ta fuck it all up!” He loosed a sharp breath in frustration and tried to pull away. “Hell, I don’t know why ya bother with me. There’s bound ta be somebody else out there who’d be a helluva lot easier–”

But Chris refused to let him go, tightened his arm about the tracker’s shoulders and gripped Tanner’s right forearm with his other hand. “I don’t want anybody else,” he insisted firmly when Vin shot a startled look at him. “I bother with you because you’re the one I want.” He gazed intently into Tanner’s deep blue eyes, seeing the uncertainty that lingered in them and determined to do all he could to banish it. “I know this is new ta you,” he said gently, “and I know there are times it scares you.” He shrugged lightly. “Hell, sometimes it scares me, too. But the thought of losin’ it, of losin’ you, scares me even more.”

“So what do we do?” Vin asked softly.

Chris smiled slightly and leaned forward, bowing his head toward Vin’s. “How ’bout we start with this?” he whispered.

Vin shivered and exhaled unsteadily as Chris’s lips claimed his with a searing tenderness, as Larabee’s arms closed about him and brought him once more into the surest, sweetest shelter he’d ever known. “Oh yeah,” he breathed into Chris’s mouth, twining his own arms about the man. “Sounds like a plan ta me!”

Kneeling astride Vin, his knees braced on either side of the tracker’s legs, Chris sighed and shook his head as he stared down at his lover. Vin had stripped off his borrowed underwear and now lay on his stomach, naked, the full extent of the damage done to him by his fall painfully obvious. Purple-black bruises mottled his skin in ugly patches from his shoulders to his ass, with the worst ones concentrated on his right side. The one at his right hip looked as if it went clear to the bone. “That’s gotta hurt like hell,” he breathed, rubbing the liniment in his hands to warm and soften it and wondering just how he was going to do this without further torturing the man.

“That ain’t the half of it,” Vin admitted, his eyes closed, his face half buried in his pillow.

“Well,” Chris said, leaning forward, “let’s see if I can help.” He set his hands at Vin’s shoulders on either side of his neck and began a slow, careful massage, feeling the tightness of muscles beneath the bruises. “You mind tellin’ me how fallin’ into mud could do this kinda damage?”

Vin tensed and sucked in a sharp, hissing breath as Larabee’s fingers, gentle as they were, pressed painfully into his bruised and tender flesh. “Weren’t the mud that done it,” he rasped through gritted teeth, clenching his hands tightly into fists beneath the pillow. “It was the rocks in the mud.”

Chris heard the pain in Vin’s voice and immediately pulled his hands back. “I can stop–”

“No,” Vin groaned. He swallowed hard and willed himself to relax. Even where he wasn’t bruised, his muscles were all knotted up, and if he were to have any hope of moving without screaming for the next day or two, this would have to be done. “One way or another I’m gonna hurt. ’Least this way it might do some good.”

Chris frowned, but knew Vin was right. “All right,” he sighed, returning his hands to Tanner’s shoulders. “But you let me know if it gets to hurtin’ too much.”

Vin turned his head and gave Chris a faint, strained smile over his shoulder. “I reckon you’ll know.”

Larabee arched a brow at that. “You come up swingin’ and I’ll put you down again,” he warned sternly. “One of us beat all to hell is enough.”

Vin snorted and turned his face back into the pillow. “Yer jist plumb full ’a care an’ concern, ain’tcha, cowboy?” he groused. “Hell, I cain’t imagine why some folks think you got no heart.”

“And I can’t imagine why some folks think you never talk,” Chris growled under his breath as he resumed the massage.

Despite the gruffness in his voice, though, his hands were remarkably gentle, moving with infinite care as they rubbed the liniment of arnica and comfrey into Vin’s battered body. Long, agile fingers so deadly with a gun now proved just as adept at healing, alternately stroking lightly over bruises or biting deeply into knotted muscles, wringing breathless moans of relief and pleasure from the man beneath him. He worked his way across the tracker’s shoulders and then down his back one vertebrae at a time, followed every tight band of muscle and ligament, caressed every scar. Old injuries long since healed received the same loving treatment as the new ones in Chris’s determination to rid Vin of even the memory of pain.

And it worked. Whether it was the liniment or simply the skillful working of Chris’s fingers, knot after knot of pain released and a wondrous warmth spread slowly through Vin’s body. He relaxed now as he hadn’t been able to for days, sinking ever more deeply into bliss. He forgot about the shadow of the noose, about the fury of the storm, about everything except this time with this man. Nothing existed for him now save the wondrous feel of Chris Larabee’s loving touch upon him.

Chris felt the tension leaving the lean body beneath him and smiled. “Like this, do ya?”

“Lord, cowboy,” Vin answered in a low, throaty purr, “‘like’ ain’t hardly th’ word. Think mebbe I’ve died an’ gone t’ heaven.”

Chris chuckled softly and worked his way back up the column of Tanner’s spine. “Thought you said we were goin’ to hell?”

Vin groaned softly and rolled his shoulders as Larabee’s fingers pressed deeply into them. “Long as yer there ta do this,” he groaned, “I don’t much care where I go!”

Chris laughed again, then leaned forward slowly, sliding his hands over the tracker’s shoulders and down his arms, draping himself over Vin’s body. “That’s what I like about you,” he breathed, nuzzling through Tanner’s long hair to press tender kisses to the nape of his neck. “You’re so good at makin’ decisions.”

Vin opened his mouth to make one of his customary wisecracks, but words deserted him as Larabee’s lips and tongue teased their way down his neck, igniting a simmering heat beneath his skin. Chris was laying atop him now, the man’s long-fingered hands stroking up and down his arms, and, caught snugly between Larabee and the mattress, Vin felt the pleasurable ache of want and need building within him. Instinctively, he dug his knees into the bed and lifted his hips, loosing a shuddering breath as he arched his ass into Chris’s crotch.

Goddamn, what this man did to him!

Chris’s breath caught in his throat as Vin’s ass thrust against him, as a spear of heat shot straight to his own cock. But it hadn’t been his intent at the start to seduce Vin, and it still wasn’t. Tanner’s injuries might not be serious, but they were still there and they were painful, and Chris wasn’t about to worsen that pain for the sake of a tumble in the sack. He forced down his desire with a ruthless will and eased himself off Vin’s body, sliding to the bed at the tracker’s side and rolling onto his back. “We’re not gonna do this now,” he said thickly, folding an arm over his eyes and forcing himself to ignore the heated ache at his groin. “You’re in no shape for it, and I’m not gonna take the chance of hurtin’ you any more than you are right now.”

“Ya won’t hurt me,” Vin countered, turning onto his side and gazing steadily at his lover. He wanted Chris, needed him, but it was a need that went beyond mere sex. Over the past few days his fears had steadily taken over his life, and he’d never been a man to tolerate that. Good or bad, his life had always been his, to be lived as he saw fit. That had been taken from him once, back in Tascosa, and now it was happening again. He needed to reclaim it, needed to reclaim himself, needed to forget his fears of dying and get on with the business of living. And no one had ever made him feel more alive than Larabee. “I ain’t made of glass, Chris,” he rasped. “I won’t break if ya touch me. An’ I reckon I can stand a little pain. Done it often enough before, I can do it again now.”

Chris removed his arm from his eyes and turned his head to look at Vin. “But that’s just it,” he said softly, seeing both the stubborn cast to the tracker’s features and the pain behind it. “You shouldn’t have ta do it now. And not ever again. Not with me and sure as hell not for me.” He raised up slowly, supporting himself on one arm and stretching out the other to brush his fingertips lightly down Vin’s face. The shadows he saw still darkening the tracker’s eyes saddened him, hurt him, and he shook his head slowly, aching for the man he loved above all else in his life. “Maybe you could stand the pain, Vin, I don’t know,” he breathed, cupping his hand gently to Tanner’s face. “But I know I couldn’t stand bein’ the one causin’ that pain, and I’m not even gonna try.”

Vin frowned up at him, both startled and puzzled by the refusal, however gently it had been worded. He knew Chris wanted him, had felt it in the man’s own body only moments ago. And it wasn’t like Chris would have to force anything, either; hell, he was offering himself! Yeah, he hurt like hell now and would likely hurt even worse after, but if that didn’t matter to him, why should it matter to Chris? Why couldn’t the man, just once, do what was asked of him without thinking it to death?

Suddenly angry without really knowing why, he pushed away Chris’s hand and struggled to sit up, biting back a groan, not wanting Chris to see just how much he did hurt. He turned his back to the gunman and dropped his legs over the side of the bed, then leaned forward and reached down for the borrowed underpants he’d left lying on the floor. Ignoring as best he could the renewed pounding in his head, he stuck his feet through the drawers and pulled them up his legs, then levered his battered, aching body stiffly off the bed and slowly pulled himself upright, tugging the underwear up the rest of the way and securing it about his waist.

Couldn’t see any point in staying if Larabee wasn’t going to give him what he needed.

Chris watched him intently, worried about his silence, about the distance the man had suddenly imposed between them. As he had last night, he wanted desperately to go to Vin, to take him in his arms and hold him until whatever this was passed, but held himself back, once again recognizing the danger of pressing too close to a man who only knew one response when cornered.

Then Vin started slowly toward the small table near the stove and Chris sat up abruptly, sharp alarm rippling through him. Tanner’s clothes were there, washed clean of mud, dried and draped over the back of a chair, and he could see the tracker’s gaze fixed upon them. Shit. Vin could barely walk, his usual loose-limbed, flowing gait now reduced to a stiff, halting limp, yet Chris knew with an instinctive, and angry, certainty exactly what he was planning.

Goddamn contrary tracker was about to run again!

Seething inside, he got off the bed and rose to his feet, set his hands on his hips and glared daggers into Tanner’s bruised back. “What the hell d’you think you’re doin’?” he demanded, though he already knew.

Vin ignored the question and concentrated on staying upright long enough to get to his clothes. His right hip protested every step, the pain there now throbbing in perfect time to that pounding in his head. It didn’t help at all that his vision insisted on swimming or that the floor was doing a nasty little pitch and roll beneath his feet. But he reminded himself that he’d known worse before and had survived. He just had to get to his clothes, then get into them and get the hell away from here, get someplace where he could think.

Or not think. Lord, he was so tired of thinking! So tired of everything. Just so tired. All he wanted to do was find somewhere to hole up and sleep for a hundred years.

He reached the chair at last and stared down at his clothes, dreading what was to come. But there was no way around it. He drew as deep a breath as his bruised ribs would allow and steeled himself, then set about the task of getting dressed. Or partially dressed. He just couldn’t bring himself to bend over to don socks and boots, so remained bare-footed. But that was all right; he’d gone that way before.

Chris’s whole body was rigid and his fingernails bit into his palms as he fought to hold himself in place, fought to keep himself from racing to the tracker’s side and dragging his sorry ass back to bed. And all at once he was grateful for whatever foresight had prompted him to hang both their gunbelts on the far wall, near the door and away from them. Didn’t think either of them particularly needed quick access to a gun just now.

Shaking and all but sick now from the pain, Vin pulled on his undershirt and his dark blue shirt over it, biting back a groan each time his deeply bruised right shoulder flexed, then somehow managed to get into his pants without falling and doing himself further injury. But there it stopped. He couldn’t make himself tuck in the shirts, couldn’t make himself reach for the wide leather suspenders and pull them up.

Shit.

Chris read the misery in every line of his lover’s body and knew it was time to put an end to this. “Just how far d’you think you’ll get before you pass out?”

Vin stiffened, but didn’t turn to face him, couldn’t face him. Not and still make it out of here. He knew his own weaknesses far too well; one sign of concern from Larabee and he’d crumble. “Far enough,” he answered hoarsely. “So long’s I do it where you cain’t see me, y’ ain’t gotta worry.”

Chris arched a brow at that. “Thought we settled this last night,” he said in a curt, clipped voice. “You run, I come after you. There’s no place you can go that I won’t follow, no place you can hide that I won’t find you. And I don’t have to see you t’ worry. Hell,” he snorted, scowling and shaking his head, “it’s usually when I can’t see you that I worry most!”

Vin bowed his head and closed his eyes, but still didn’t turn around. “Well then,” he rasped, “ya’d best git set t’ worry, ’cause I’m goin’.”

“You go right ahead,” Chris challenged, deciding it was time to play his ace in the hole. “But you’ll need to put on your boots first. Peso’s still back in town, and after what you did to him I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you ride Pony. So wherever it is you think you’re goin’, you’ll be walkin’ ta get there. And we both know you won’t get far.”

Those last words, spoken with such smug certainty, touched off Vin’s anger and brought him spinning around. But that unthinking movement only gave added force to the pain throbbing through him, heightened the dizziness sweeping over him. Swamped by those waves, he groaned thickly and collapsed into the chair just behind him, dropping his head into shaking hands.

Chris sighed and shook his head at the sight of his partner’s suffering, then went to his side, laying a gentle hand on his bowed back. “You’ve gotta quit tryin’ to run out on me, Vin,” he urged quietly. “I can’t help you if I have ta spend all my time chasin’ you down.”

“You could let me go,” Vin muttered.

“And I could quit breathin’, too,” Chris retorted. “Lucky for you I’m too smart to do either one.”

Vin gave a short, dry laugh. “There’s some’d say y’ ain’t so much smart as hard-headed.”

Chris arched a brow and stared pointedly down at him. “And there’s some who have no business callin’ others hard-headed.” He set a hand under Tanner’s arm. “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”

“No.” He pulled his arm away and sat slowly upright in the chair, grimacing deeply as the movement jarred his head anew. After a few moments, though, the pain settled to a more tolerable level, and he loosed a slow breath of relief. “Don’t seem t’ be no point in it. Bed’s only got two uses, an’ since I don’t wanta sleep an’ you ain’t gonna fuck me, I’d jist be wastin’ my time there.”

“You could just rest, y’ know,” Chris snapped in exasperation. “You ever heard of that?”

“C’n rest sittin’ up,” Vin insisted stubbornly. He knew he was being unreasonable but didn’t care. He was tired, he hurt and he was frustrated at having everything in his life gone suddenly off-kilter. And where normally Chris’s patience and understanding would’ve been just the balm he needed for his frayed nerves, right now they only seemed to aggravate him more. First the man wouldn’t fuck him, now he wouldn’t even fight with him.

Shit.

Chris bit back his own anger and nodded slowly. He knew what Vin was doing; he had a habit of doing it himself. Of course the difference was that when he did it, Vin was usually the voice of reason, the calm, steadying presence trying to quiet his demons. He just couldn’t help thinking that it didn’t bode well for Tanner to be the one snarling out his rage at the world while he tried to remain rational.

Hell, wouldn’t Buck get a kick out of this?

“All right,” he finally said, managing to keep his voice even and light, “I guess bein’ up can’t hurt you any, just so long as you don’t over-do it. In fact,” he frowned down at the tracker as a sudden thought struck him, “when’s the last time you ate?”

“’Bout the time I decided I was tired of throwin’ it all back up,” Vin answered testily.

Chris drew a deep breath and released it slowly, tempted to give Tanner the fight he wanted. But he said nothing, merely reached down and took Vin’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting the tracker’s head and turning it first one way and then the other, pursing his lips and eyeing him speculatively.

Vin scowled up at him, made uneasy by the measuring look in those green eyes. “What the hell are you doin’?” he growled, pulling out of Larabee’s grasp and batting away his hand.

Chris smiled thinly and shrugged. “I’m tryin’ to decide somethin’. When I finally do haul off and slug you, should I aim for one of the bruises you’ve already got or just give you a new one?”

Oddly enough, though, that question defused Vin’s temper, draining the heat from his anger and stripping him of his belligerence. He swore hoarsely and bent forward again, dropping his aching head into his hands and bracing his elbows on his thighs. “Jesus, Chris,” he groaned wearily, “what the hell am I doin’?”

Chris dropped a hand to Tanner’s left shoulder and rubbed slowly, his own irritation evaporating as well. “Seems to me you’re still tryin’ to run,” he said gently. “Or maybe tryin’ to push me into runnin’. But,” he smiled slightly, “it’s not gonna work. I been told I’m a stubborn sonuvabitch, and, right now, I think I could take you in a fight.”

“Hell,” Vin sighed, straightening up slowly and leaning back into that caressing hand, “right now Casey Wells could take me in a fight.”

Larabee’s lips twitched as he thought of the feisty young girl, so much like her tough old aunt. “Don’t sell her short, pard. On your best day, she’d give you a run for your money.”

Vin lifted his head carefully, wincing at the effort, and gazed up at Chris through troubled eyes. “Sorry fer makin’ this so hard on ya,” he said softly. “Yer jist tryin’ t’ take care ’a me, an’ I jist keep tryin’ t’ push you away.” He scowled and shook his head, then reached for Chris’s hand and held tightly to it. “Hell, I must be crazy!”

Chris sank into a crouch at Vin’s side to spare the man the painful chore of looking up and gazed deeply into those bewildered blue eyes, seeing in them every scar carved into Tanner’s soul. “No, you’re not,” he said softly. “You’ve been so torn up inside by the hangin’ that every fear you’ve ever had has come crawlin’ up through the cracks. You’re so lost in your shadows that you don’t know anymore what’s real and what’s not. But I am real, Vin,” he declared softly, fervently, “and I don’t care how long it takes or how hard you make it on either of us, I’m gonna convince you of that. I’m here, and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

Vin stared hard at him for long moments, searching his eyes intently and seeing the determination and the devotion shining in the brilliant green depths. He didn’t understand it now any more than he had when he’d started this, but he knew he could no longer fight against it. Just as he’d known all along it would, his resistance crumbled, leaving him defenseless in the face of this man’s love. “Reckon it is time I stopped runnin’,” he said hoarsely, managing a faint, wan smile. “Goddamn bounty’s already taken so much from me, I’d be a fool t’ let it take you, too.”

“It won’t,” Chris assured him. “It can’t.” His green eyes burned with a fierce determination. “Heaven and hell together aren’t strong enough to take me from you, and no goddamn noose is gonna take you from me!”

Vin sat hunched over his plate, one arm resting on the table, and absently pushed his biscuit through his beans with the other hand, sopping up the pot liquor. So far the food seemed to be sitting well enough in his stomach, for which he was grateful, but he wasn’t about to test that by over-indulging. He’d already inflicted about all the misery on himself he could take.

But not just on himself.

He sighed heavily and let the biscuit fall into his plate, then sat back in his chair, finally mustering the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at him for some time. He swallowed hard and licked his lips, then lifted his gaze to Chris, who’d gone to the stove to get them more coffee. “So,” he rasped softly, hesitantly, “what’d ya mean when ya said ‘after what I done t’ Peso’?”

Chris turned away from the stove and returned to the table, carrying their cups. He set one down before Vin and then sat down in the chair across from him, regarding him evenly. “I wondered when you were gonna ask about him.”

Vin flinched and ducked his head, certain he heard a faint accusation in Larabee’s quiet voice. “Weren’t sure I really wanted t’ know,” he admitted guiltily. “Weren’t sure I could stand it.” He winced and shook his head slowly, staring into his plate but seeing something else entirely. “Last thing I remember, he was fightin’ me somethin’ fierce. Storm had panicked him an’ he jist wanted t’ get the hell away. Only where he wanted t’ go,” he shuddered at the memory, “was t’ that stand of trees an’ iron rocks. You know the place.” He glanced up at Chris, saw the man nod, then looked back down at his plate. “Didn’t seem like jist a real good idea t’ me, so I tried t’ stop him, tried t’ get him t’ change directions.”

Chris snorted at that, having seen some of the wrestling matches between the ornery tracker and his equally ornery horse. “Hell, it’s a wonder he didn’t just pull your arms right outta their sockets!”

“Weren’t fer lack ’a tryin’,” Vin muttered. He sighed again and sat back once more, finally raising his gaze to Chris’s. “Then lightnin’ hit one ’a them trees an’ he went crazy. Reared back just as I was tryin’ t’ get him turned around.” He blew out a breath and shook his head. “He lost his balance, started fallin’ with me still in the saddle. I threw myself out, an’ that’s when it all went black. Cain’t say whether it was him gimme this knot or somethin’ I hit on the ground. But when I woke up he was gone–” His voice cracked as fear for his horse overcame him, and he searched Chris’s eyes desperately for some reassurance. “But you said he made it back t’ town,” he continued hoarsely. “So that means he’s all right … don’t it?”

Chris smiled slightly at the true worry, and true affection, for the cantankerous animal that sounded so plainly in those last two words. Vin and that hell-spawned demon of a horse might go at it tooth and claw on a regular basis, but the two had a bond that defied explanation and were perfectly suited to each other. When they weren’t trying to kill each other.

“He was in pretty sorry shape when he came limpin’ into town,” he finally said. “Soaked to the bone, covered in mud and pissed as all hell. He’s got some bruises, some cuts and scrapes, and his off hind’s twisted good. Tiny says it’ll be at least a week ’til he can be ridden. But, yeah, he’s all right.” He chuckled wryly. “Hell, it’d take more than a storm to do him in.”

Vin exhaled unsteadily as relief crashed through him in a hard wave. He’d been haunted by visions of the horse falling and crippling himself, had been tormented by the prospect of having to put the gelding down. He’d do it if he had to, wouldn’t trust the task to anyone else, but it would kill something inside him. Especially if it were his fault he had to do it in the first place.

“Fucked up good this time, didn’t I?” he asked, his voice heavy with self-disgust. “Cain’t believe I let myself get so crazy.”

Chris shrugged and set his cup down on the table. “This is somethin’ you been livin’ with a long time, Vin. Somethin’ that’s been hauntin’ you a long time.” He leaned forward and folded his arms on the table, fixing his gaze on Tanner. “Could be all this is a sign we need to do somethin’ about it,” he added quietly.

Vin sat up straight at that, his eyes widening and his face paling as hope and fear collided within him. For so long that one idea, and its utter hopelessness, had teased him, taunted him, filling his dreams with images of himself being vindicated one moment, condemned the next. He whiled away hours and lay awake nights trying desperately to conceive of some way to clear his name, but was finally coming to accept the futility of such thoughts. The bitter truth was that his fate was in the hands of the dead. The nightmare had started when he’d taken in Jess Kincaid’s body for a bounty, and whatever chance he’d had of ending it lay in a grave back in town.

Hell, likely it would never really end until he was in his grave.

Chris saw the turmoil in his lover’s eyes, read it in that normally stoic face, and loosed a soft, sad sigh. There had once been a time, he knew, when Vin would have saddled up and ridden to Tascosa on a moment’s notice, determined to clear his name and convinced that nothing could keep him from that. But much of that conviction had died with Eli Joe, and Chris couldn’t help but wonder just how long it would be before what little remained died as well. Vin had never been one to give up on anything he held dear, but, God, even he had to have his limits.

Chris just had to make sure the man never reached them.

“We’ll figure out a way,” he said quietly, his voice firm, his steady gaze holding Vin’s. “I don’t know how, but I do know that none of us will stop tryin’ until we do.” He leaned further forward still and stretched his right arm out across the table, holding out his hand to Vin. “I promise ya, partner,” he vowed, “somehow, no matter what it takes, no matter how long it takes, we’re gonna get you out from under the shadow of that goddamn noose.”

Vin swallowed hard and stared into Larabee’s eyes, seeing in them all the conviction he’d lost, and more than enough to make up for what he lacked. He stared at Chris a moment longer, then slowly leaned forward and slipped his hand into Larabee’s. Long fingers closed about his with a gentle strength, and suddenly no noose, whether real or merely a shadow, could hold quite the threat, or the terror, that it had before.

“Y’ know,” he rasped softly, finally allowing himself to hope again, “I honestly b’lieve ya will.”