Thaumaturgical

They’d been riding for six hours. The kidnappers had split up into three groups some time earlier to try and throw them off. But Vin was certain that the group he had selected to pursue held the Judge.

When the dusty tracker raised his hand for the men to stop, the other six reined their horses in and watched with tired eyes as their guide dismounted and began examining the ground yet again.

"What are we gonna do if the Judge was with one of them other lots?" J.D. demanded, fatigue providing him with the courage to voice the question that had been gnawing at him for the past hour.

Four Corners’ regulators had been out of town when the Macray Brothers and their mob had ridden in and dragged Judge Orrin Travis out. After having been in the saddle for five days escorting a wagon train through ‘bandit country’, all had been looking forward to a bath, a drink and in Buck’s case, some women, before some very much needed sleep. That wasn’t to be. They hadn’t even dismounted when Mary came racing out to explain the abduction and to plead for their assistance in securing her father-in-law’s safe return. Needless to say, here they were plodding behind their resident tracker, their tempers fraying as lassitude clawed at their haggard bodies and sleep starved minds.

"He’s with this group," Vin muttered with certainty. Finally, the tracker stood and stretched his cramped neck. He’d spent the best part of the six hours with his eyes on the ground searching for the tell-tale signs of the four riders they were chasing. His head was throbbing, his back aching and his eyes stinging from the perspiration that persistently dripped into them.

"You want to take a rest?" Chris coaxed softly. At times, Chris and the others had dropped off to sleep in the saddle as the past few very long, trying days had caught up with them. Vin had not had that luxury. He’d had to maintain his concentration just as he had when they were escorting the wagon train. Vin had been their scout. Riding in front, beside and behind the small group of settlers to ensure there were no blood thirsty bandits out for a quick buck. All of them had played their part of course, but as usual, the job largely fell to the all-seeing tracker. If there were bandits out there, Vin would see them....sense them.... long before anyone else. And he had. As a result there had been a hard, but short lived-battle, following which the Seven had provided the animals with a Christian burial. And now Chris and his men were here. Still in the saddle, and still depending on Vin to do what he did best.

"Just a few minutes," Chris pressed.

He had not known Vin Tanner long. Just a few paltry weeks. And while in many ways they were still strangers, Chris trusted and understood this young man more than anyone else he had ever met. The Seven’s leader didn’t know why. Didn’t profess to understand. What he did know was that he didn’t need to know anything about Vin to.... know him. There were times when Chris Larabee felt like he was staring into a mirror. The haunting eyes that gazed back at him could have been his own. They echoed the same tragic life. The same dry sense of humor. The same soul felt pain. And damned if they didn’t echo Chris’ own stubborn nature. But Vin’s more sensitive than me. More easily hurt by his own and other’s actions. Vin was still a young man. No doubt he still had hopes and dreams....even if he didn’t know what they were. Chris, on the other hand, had seen his hopes and dreams go up in smoke. Literally. There was a huge hole in his chest where his heart used to be. Where love had had a home. Where laughter and joy had danced. But no more. Or at least that was what he had decided until, believe it or not, he had met this quiet, serious young man. The more Chris got to know Vin Tanner, however, the more he realized that Vin wasn’t as quiet or as serious as he let on. There was a smart wit hidden behind those reserved blue eyes and rowdiness that came with youth. But there was also maturity. Maturity that strangled the youthful enthusiasm and replaced it with a sense of duty. And it was this sense of duty that was driving Vin Tanner now.

"I’m fine. If we’re gonna save the Judge we’ve got to keep going." But Vin didn’t remount. Rather he walked away to his right and studied the countryside with his alert blue eyes.

"They’re taking him to the mine," the tracker murmured.

Buck glanced at Chris. Such a claim probably had less to do with Vin’s eerie ability to read a trail and more to do with his uncanny knack of reading people.

"How can you be sure, Vin?" Josiah inquired.

"My gut."

"Well, Mr. Tanner, as informative as your ‘gut’ may be, I really do not feel that we can place our faith, our future, and Judge Travis’ life in its rumblings."

Vin turned. His face lacked the anger that he deserved to feel. "They’re takin’ him to the mine. That’s where their brother was captured. Mary said they were yelling somethin’ about havin’ their own trial, followed by a firing squad. They’re gonna try him and kill him there where it all started."

"Makes sense," Nathan grunted.

"Only problem is, they’ve got at least a five hour start on us," Josiah muttered. Vin glanced at the preacher and nodded thoughtfully.

"If they are headed for the mine, we can save a least two hours going along Patterson Ridge. We can circle the top of the mine, and if we hurry, we should be able to climb down the bluff and be there about the same time they arrive."

"Hey, now wait a minute. Patterson Ridge is unstable. That trail claims at least two people a month, that’s why the Judge closed it," Buck argued.

"I’m going over Patterson Ridge," Vin stated flatly as he climbed into his saddle.

"Hang on, Vin," Chris murmured in his quiet, authoritative voice. "And what if they ain’t headed for the mine?"

"Then we’re still at least three hours behind them and they’re gonna kill Judge Travis before we can catch up with them anyway."

The other men glanced at one another. None could argue with that. Vin had a way of putting a situation into perspective. Used just enough words to sum up the predicament.

"It’s our only chance, Chris. His only chance."

"It’s a hell of a gamble," Josiah muttered.

"Ten to one chance. Not my favorite odds," Ezra agreed, his mellow Southern tones touched with annoyance. He felt drained. And hungry. And hot. And worried.

"Our horses are tired. Ain’t gonna be real sure footed," Nathan pointed out, wiping his eyes with a bandanna.

"Hell, we ain’t even sure they are headed for the mine," J.D. grumbled lifting his numb rump off the saddle.

"Ain’t nothin else out here. It has to be the mine," Vin argued softly.

All men turned to Chris to wait.

"We go over Patterson Ridge," the Seven’s leader decided, having considered all comments. "But stay close and watch your step."

Patterson Ridge. A narrow trail that snaked around the top rim of Mine Mountain. The track had been carved by the plod of mules some decades before when people believed that there was gold ‘in them thar hills’. ‘Track’ was probably an overstatement. ‘Rut’ was probably a more apt description. The ‘rut’ was rocky, the edges loose. All too often horses lost their footing sending both them and their riders careering over the edge and hurtling to eternity.

A little over an hour and two near falls later, Vin again raised his hand and then pointed. Below and a good quarter mile to the left was the mine opening they were searching for. More than that, the men could see Judge Travis. He was standing tied to a stake, the three Macray brothers collected off to one side.

"We’re too late," J.D. gasped.

Despite the distance, he could see the men down there preparing to carry out their threat. There was no way to get down there in time. At this distance, even a rifle shot would only be a dull thud and no ordinary bullet could cross the great expanse.

"What the hell are we going to do?" Nathan demanded, watching a number of his colleagues dismount in obvious defeat. "We can’t just sit here and watch them kill him."

"I’m afraid we are out of options. We did everything we could, Mr. Jackson. At least we can take solace in the fact that, thanks to Mr. Tanner’s ‘gut’, we will be able to ensure that those three miscreants pay for their crime."

The men continued to voice their anger and helplessness, each knowing full well that there was now nothing they could do to save the man who had hired them to protect Four Corners. Hell, they owed him. If it hadn’t been for the Judge’s offer of a dollar a day plus room and board, then they probably would have went their separate ways right after dealing with the situation in the Seminole village. They never would have had the chance to develop the bonds of friendship that were now as important to most of them as eating and drinking. Almost as important to Ezra as playing cards. Almost as important to Nathan as healing and to Buck as snuggling up to a woman. Almost as important to Josiah as rescuing lost souls and to J.D. as being a cowboy. Almost as important to Vin as clearing his name. And almost as important to Chris as trying to forget his past. Almost? No..... more. Much more. Much more important than any of those things now. Now their friendship was as important as breathing to each and every one of them, even if some of them weren’t prepared to admit it. Not even to themselves.

Chris’ eyes searched the surroundings for a way to distract the Macrays. But even if he did attract their attention, he wasn’t sure it would do any good. He and his men were still too far away to do anything for the Judge. They’d just shoot Travis and be long gone by the time the Seven got down there. How the hell was he going to explain to Billy that he’d let the child’s grandfather be murdered?

To the gunslinger’s right, the group’s tracker had dismounted and was moving swiftly. Chris turned to watch him curiously. Vin unsheathed his rifle and then withdrew a spyglass. Silently he walked to the edge of the trail and lowered himself to his stomach. By this time, his other companions had noted his single-minded actions.

"Vin, what the hell are you doing?"

"You can’t shoot from up here."

"The bullet won’t carry."

"Mr. Tanner, you have done everything humanly possible to save the Judge. Unfortunately time and distance have defeated us."

"The Lord has decided that it’s the Judge’s time," Josiah preached earnestly.

Vin ignored the comments. Without a word he took a small paper package from his pocket and unwrapped the contents to reveal six very large bullets. J.D. gasped.

"I ain’t never seen bullets like that."

"They’re used for shooting long distances. That’s why they’re bigger. Heavier. I seen them in the war. The army sharpshooters used them to try and take out the Generals leading the other side," Nathan informed his comrades.

"You said try?"

"Some of them sharpshooters were good, but......they had to be a damn sight closer than this to hit what they were aiming at........ And they weren’t dog tired," he finished softly.

"Brother Vin. It’s too late, son. We’re just too far away. Not even the Lord himself would be accurate enough to hit something that small from up here."

Chris Larabee watched his determined young friend load his rifle and pull the weapon snuggly into his shoulder. Every movement was calm, precise and carried out with practised ease.

"I can hit them." For one ridiculous second Chris contemplated reasoning with the man, but snorted at such a delusive idea. If there was one thing he had learned from riding with Vin, it was that once the young man had his mind set on something, the devil himself would have trouble changing it.

Vin picked up the spyglass and looked through it for several seconds before discarding it. The other men became quiet, all having realized that nothing they could say would make Vin Tanner give up the Judge without a fight. Even a futile one. Their dusty companion was pigheaded, obstinate and on the point of exhaustion from almost six days in the saddle. That, taken together with a will of iron, meant that he would see this through, even if he knew he was doomed to fail.

Each member of the Seven squinted down at the scene being played out over a quarter of a mile away. The Judge and his captors looked only inches tall. It was inconceivable that Vin actually thought he could get a bullet that far, let alone hit a man. Three men at that. Below, the Macray Brothers were ready to carry out their sentence. Death by firing squad.

Chris heard Vin take in a calculated breath. The tracker’s rifle spat three times in quick succession. Time slowed. The sound of Vin’s rifle. The Macray brothers lifting their guns towards the Judge.

"He missed." But J.D. had barely got the words out when Doug, Mike and Steven Macray fell one after the other. There had been a three second delay between the shots and when the bullets hit their targets. And hit them they had.

For several seconds the only sound on the ridge was the sharp intake of breath that reflected Vin’s companions’ utter amazement.

"Holy Mother of God!" Ezra gasped, finally finding his voice.

"He did it!" J.D. cried.

"Well strike me dead!" Buck yelled.

On the ground, Vin lowered his head and released his breath. Thank God. For several seconds he lay there panting and then slowly lifted himself to his knees. Without a word he put the rifle down and began to massage his shoulder where the rifle’s recoil had smashed against him. Suddenly, he found himself surrounded by his companions, who were all shouting at once. They patted him, hailed him, cheered him and proclaimed him a hero. Chris noted that Vin wasn’t responding to the congratulations. Rather, the more excited his friends were becoming, the more fatigued and distressed the young man looked.

"Mount up," the Seven’s leader ordered harshly. His men turned at the sound of his voice, all too happy to notice the gunfighter’s scowl.

"Chris did you see that!"

"I ain’t never seen anyone shoot like that."

"The Lord himself could not have done better."

"That is certainly the most amazing thing that I have witnessed in my short but certainly illustrious life time. To get bullets to travel that far and hit three targets that, from this site were only inches tall is just....well it’s....thaumaturgical."

"Thaum a what?"

"Thaumaturgical. It means, phenomenal, extraordinary, sensational, spectacular, prodigious, stupendous, unprecedented........," Ezra paused gauging the stupefied looks on his friend’s faces. "....unbelievable."

The others grinned. That they understood. And that, they agreed with.

"Mount up," Chris grilled again. This time the others took the hint and moved away, still chattering like excited children, each trying put into words the thaumaturgical thing they had had the honor of witnessing.

Now alone, Chris returned his attention to the solitary figure perched overlooking valley below. Vin hadn’t moved. He was still crouched, resting back on his heels, his head dropped. Clearly, the fatigue of the past few days and the seriousness of the situation had taken its toll. The need to press himself on was gone and the adrenaline rush that had seen him shoot straight and true had sapped what little energy he had had left.

"You okay?" Chris asked carefully. The head bobbed once without coming up. Chris offered his hand. Vin took it and allowed his leader to pull him to his feet. "I’m askin’ again, are you alright?"

"Yeah."

Chris peered under the brim that was hiding Vin’s glazed blue eyes. Eyes that appeared almost as pained as they were red and tired.

"Vin?" Chris knew better than to push and so he waited.

"It’s a fine line between a righteous shooting and a killin’."

For a moment, Chris was confused. And then he understood. Vin would no more shoot someone in the back than fly in the air. Chris had never seen the young tracker shoot anyone unless he knew the bullet was coming. But those three men down there had had no warning. Chris suspected that Vin’s strong sense of justice was obviously forcing him to feel that what he had just done was somehow immoral.

"You did what you had to."

"Doesn’t make it right."

"You saved the Judge’s life."

"Don’t make me feel any better."

Chris nodded his very real understanding and picked up the rifle and spyglass that Vin had left on the ground. "Where’d you learn to shoot like that?"

"I’ve always been able to shoot like that."

So the topic wasn’t open for conversation. Chris frowned. He’d been where Vin was now. A place called Hell. A dark, endless tunnel of guilt and self-doubt that appeared to have no end. Larabee scrutinized the pained face staring back at him. Vin was lost. Chris knew he had to try and show his flailing young friend the way out.

"You never mentioned it before."

"You never asked."

"I’ve seen a lot of sharpshooters in my day, but I ain’t never seen anyone that accurate from this sort of distance."

Vin grunted. "When I was six I shot a wolf from a good half mile away in the middle of a storm. Recoil of the rifle knocked me off my feet, but I hit it. Right between the eyes."

"A gift then."

"A curse."

"Don’t reckon the Judge, or Mary or Billy will see it that way."

"Probably not. But the Macray Brothers may have a different opinion."

"You saved a life."

"And shot three men in the back to do it," Vin growled, turning away.

Chris grabbed his distressed friend roughly by the shoulder.

"I ain’t gonna stand here and watch you beat yourself up over this. The Judge would be dead if it weren’t for you. And Judge Travis is a good man. Ain’t no one else could have saved him. You tracked him for eight hours after five days on the trail. You’re exhausted, but your instincts still lead us straight to him. And I don’t reckon there’d be another man in this territory that could have hit them three fellas from up here."

Vin’s head had dropped again. "I know. I just....."

Out of no where, J.D. materialized, smiling from ear to ear. The boy was still so excited that he failed to notice the tension in the air.

"Hellova shot, Vin. Buck reckons that you’re the best sharpshooter in the country."

The tracker’s cutting eyes appeared out from under the brim of his hat. "Yeah, I kill real well," he agreed venomously.

"Me too," Chris snarled. The gunfighter watched Vin’s face twitch.

"That you do, my friend," the tracker concurred seriously. J.D. froze. He’d just walked into the middle of something.

"We do what we have to," Chris pressed, strategically leading his friend toward the light.

"I guess so."

"Sometimes it ain’t pleasant."

"No, it ain’t." The blue eyes were relaxing. The two men gazed at each other easily. The need for words had passed.

Naw. Bruising will come out in a day or so.

Chris handed the rifle and spyglass back to his best friend. J.D., who had clamped his mouth shut earlier, now slinked away while the slinking was good. He’d interrupted something alright and he knew better than to do that to his leader and second in command.

"Remind me never to piss you off," Chris murmured to Vin as the pair watched J.D.’s hasty retreat.

Again the half smile.

I’ll just do that the next time we’re in the saloon and I want a drink.

Josiah eyed the two serious men from afar.

"Brother Vin doesn’t like taking lives. Not even the lives of animals like the Macrays."

Buck nodded. "No he don’t. I don’t reckon Vin enjoys shootin’ anythin’."

"But he does it so well. Such a gift should not be hidden away but presented for the world to see," Ezra cried. Unaware of the delicate emotional situation that Chris was helping the exhausted sharpshooter through, the gambler urged his horse over.

"Mr. Tanner, I just want to say that that shooting display must rate up there with Buffalo Bill himself. To put it in the expressive and literary words of our young sheriff, ‘it was a hell of a shot.’ Now I think that with your talent and my unique understanding of marketing, that we could ..........." Ezra’s blue eyes clouded when he realized that he was on the receiving end of a Larabee glare. "Is there something amiss, Mr Larabee?"

"Go to hell, Ezra."

"But I was just.......on my way."

Vin watched the group’s black sheep wheel his horse around and then the weary young man grinned.

"If bullshit were worth anything, Ezra’d be a rich man."

"Reckon you’re right."

Chris eyed his listless friend, evaluating his condition. Looked like Vin was coming out the end of the emotional tunnel he’d been travelling through for the past few minutes. Satisfied that nothing more than a good night’s sleep was needed to see the return of his friend’s good nature, Chris turned to mount his horse. A soft voice caused him to pause.

"Thanks, Chris."

The gunfighter turned and his head bobbed ever so slightly. "You did a good thing today."

"Yeah."

"J.D. was right about one thing though," Chris announced settling himself in his saddle.

"Yeah. What’s that?"

"It was a hell of a shot!"

Vin grinned across at his older friend and as one they clasped, not hands, but forearms.

"You’re a good man, Vin Tanner."

"It takes one to know one, Chris."