**********

Buck was fuming. He just couldn’t understand Chris. Why was Larabee prepared to allow everything he had fought so hard to find, to just slip away? True, when the chips had been down, Chris had been there for Vin and yet, he had walked away again, leaving the weak tracker confused, but more than anything else, angry.

Ten days after Vin had initially been wounded, Nathan allowed him out of the clinic for a second time, but the fever had knocked the young man around badly. The tracker was confined to sitting on the porch of the saloon, sitting in the saloon, or sleeping in J.D.’s room, which was on the bottom floor of the boarding house.

Josiah settled himself into a chair at Buck’s table, eyeing the incensed look on the scoundrel’s usually relaxed face.

"Everything okay, Buck?"

"Yeah," the mustached man murmured. Josiah waited. "Dammit, Josiah, he’s doin’ it again!"

"Who?"

"&*%@in’ Chris!"

**********

"Brother," Josiah greeted, entering the sheriff’s office where Chris tended to spend much of his time recently.

"Josiah." The big preacher took a seat across from his leader and then casually glanced to where Chris had been looking when he had first entered the room. A smile lit up Josiah’s heart, but didn’t present on his face. Chris had been staring at one of the two chairs on the porch of the saloon. The chair that Vin occupied.

"It’s good to see him back on his feet," the preacher commented.

Chris glanced at Josiah and nodded. "Yeah, it is."

"Things got a bit hairy there for a while."

"Something I can help you with, Josiah?" Chris demanded, sitting back in his chair and studying the preacher’s face carefully.

"As a matter of fact there is, Chris. I’m having trouble understanding three modern parables. Now I would ask Buck, but he and Miss Annabell have plans. And I would ask Ezra, but he’s conned some poor unsuspecting soul into a game of chance."

"Nothing about Ezra’s games have anything to do with chance," Chris commented.

"Right you are, Brother," Josiah laughed. "Anyway, I would have asked Nathan, but he’s sleepin’ - what with the time he sat up looking after Vin, I reckon he’s entitled. And I would have asked J.D...." Josiah smiled, "but that boy only ever sees the literal meaning in anything. So, do you mind?"

"Don’t know if I’ll be much help to you, Josiah. I reckon I’m a bit like J.D. Never see the point in the damn things."

"You just might surprise yourself. Here’s the first one that is troubling me. There was this piece of cloth woven from the finest of fibres. But it was plain and lacked any colour. The draper cut the cloth and dyed one piece red and the other blue. Using one piece he made a shirt. And using the other, he made a pair of trousers. Both the trousers and shirt claimed to be more comfortable than the other, but the customer who bought them couldn’t choose which was the more comfortable. The customer wore the trousers on the farm when ploughing his fields and the shirt to church when he praised God. One day the trousers became torn at the knees and the shirt’s cuffs stained and still they argued over who was the more comfortable and still the man who wore them, was unable to choose. Why?"

Chris’ screwed up his face at the pointlessness of the story. "You aren’t serious?"

"I need to find the answer if I’m to find spiritual harmony. So why was the man unable to choose between two such different pieces of clothing that had such different purposes and largely different experiences. One rough from days of labor and the pleasant from time spent in church. Surely the man should have been able to choose between two such different pieces of clothing."

"They were made from the same cloth originally," Chris muttered. "Look, Josiah, I’ve got some things I need to be doin’ so..."

"Made from the same cloth originally. Yeah, that works. Thanks, Chris. The second parable is about two fish." Larabee sighed and settled himself into the chair. He had the feeling that this was going to be a long afternoon. "One fish came from upstream and was small, but wiry and quick. His gills were a dull brown and he was ugly to look at. The other came from downstream and was large and strong. He was beautifully colored and all agreed that he was the most handsome fish God had created. One day there was flood and the two fish ended up in a swollen section of the river. When the floods died away, the two fish became stuck in a pond with a number of other creatures. The large fish and the small fish had nothing in common except their need to eat. Unfortunately, the food supply in the pond was limited and thus many of the creatures died. The weeds that both fish depended on for nourishment became scarce. The larger fish was beginning to find that he was too big to swim between the rocks to find the succulent weeds, and small fish, while able to reach the weeds, found them too firmly buried to pull out and eat. And thus both fish looked like they may starve. They decided to work together. The smaller swam down between the rocks and clamped it’s mouth around the weeds and the larger clamped it’s mouth around the small fish’s tail and pulled hard dragging both his new friend and the weeds out. From that day, the two fish swam the same path, never straying from one another’s side. And yet, they had nothing in common. One was small, wiry and ugly. The other large, strong and beautiful. No one could understand why they swam the same path. Well?"

Chris was frowning. This had nothing to do with fish or cloth or &*%@ing parables he realized now.

Josiah could see he had struck a nerve. "I believe that it was because the two fish, despite their differences complimented each other perfectly and they needed each other to survive. What do you think, Chris?" Larabee’s eyes had narrowed. Josiah knew he had to get through his third and final story before Chris exploded. "The third story is about a man and a horse. The man was a hermit. He didn’t mix well with other people. One day he found a wild horse. Wasn’t much to look at, but it had a wild spirit that couldn’t be tamed. Through kindness the horse learned to trust the man and they did everything together. The horse allowed the hermit to ride him and the man provided the animal with food and a warm stable. Every Friday morning, the man released the horse from the fenced corral and every Saturday evening the horse returned. This happened for many years. One Saturday, however, the horse failed to return. The man saddled one of his other ponies and went searching for the lost animal. He found it caught in a bramble bush unable to move. The man rescued the horse, took it home and nursed it back to health. The next Friday morning the horse waited at the gate to be set free, but the man didn’t come to open the gate. The horse decided that the man must have forgotten and so forgave him the indiscretion. At the end of the next week after working hard to help the man on his farm, the horse again waited to be set free and again the man didn’t come. This went on for several weeks. The man started to treat the horse with suspicion, not prepared to trust it again. But the horse had never tried to leave. After all, it hadn’t been the animal’s fault that it had strayed into the brambles. One afternoon, the horse pulled free of his human friend and trotted off, never to return. He could not live in a confined pen. That which had given the man and beast a perfect partnership had been destroyed by the man’s desire to protect the horse and to protect himself from the pain of losing his friend. But in doing so, he crushed the trust that they had shared and destroyed the friendship."

Chris’ face had descended into hell, his eyes slitted at Josiah with rage.

Slowly the preacher rose to his feet. "The horse craved its freedom. Some souls can’t be fenced, Chris. Do that to them and they wither and die." Josiah turned and started for the door.

"Josiah." The preacher turned. The harshness had left Chris’ face, his eyes filling with guilt and pain. "I..."

Josiah nodded his understanding and returned to his seat.

Larabee swallowed. "I..."

"I know. When you saw him across his saddle..."

Chris Larabee dropped his face. "I knew I had failed again."

"Failed?" Josiah asked gently.

"Wasn’t there when I was needed."

"You are one man. You can’t be everywhere."

"The two times I’ve been needed..."

"Two?" Chris glanced up at the preacher and Josiah began to nod. "What happened to your wife and child was tragic but..."

"BUT!! There are no buts!! They died because I wasn’t there to protect them! And Vin..."

"Is alive," the preacher pointed out.

"Yeah, by chance. He should be dead!"

"Because you weren’t there? And what about Abe Simons? Bandits killed him a week ago. Was that your fault too? And Bob Brachet..."

"They didn’t expect me to watch their backs."

"And you think that Vin does?" Chris’ head was down again. Josiah couldn’t see his friend’s face and so couldn’t gauge his reaction. "And your wife? She expected you to..." Larabee’s face came up abruptly. Josiah backed off immediately. "Chris, I can’t tell you how you should feel at the moment, or what you should do. I’m the last person in the world who should be giving advice, but I want you to listen to just one thing and then I’ll go away. If your wife and son had somehow survived that fire, would you have turned your back on them and shut them out of your heart?"

Chris eyed Josiah carefully. "They were my family."

Josiah smiled. "Exactly," the big man agreed. His eyes were focused on something through the window. Chris followed the preacher’s gaze and found himself staring at Vin sitting on the chair outside the saloon.

Josiah flicked his attention back to Chris. "Family ain’t something you can turn your back on. Investing in family can be painful, but the rewards can’t be measured by human understanding. Some men are blessed with family and experience great pain at some time in their life as a result. Other men turn their back on family to prevent the risk of being hurt and so live with the security of knowing they will never experience heart-felt loss. Strangely, it is the first man who lives and the second who simply exists."

Chris glared at Josiah. "He’s not my family."

"No? Maybe you’re right, but only if you see family as beings that share blood. Some of God’s creatures are cut from the same cloth, swim the same path and share a soul and if that ain’t family then I don’t know what is." Josiah rose to his feet. "Think about it my friend, because ‘he’," Josiah stated inclining his head towards Vin, "deserves to live, not simply exist. You both do."

Chris watched Josiah leave and then returned his attention to Vin. As he watched, the weak tracker attempted to struggle to his feet. Ezra stepped forward to help him but Vin shoved the offer of help away. Frustration at his own lack of independence, but more specifically, the loss of something else he had valued more than his own life, fuelled his anger. Instantly, the young man stopped and apologized for his outburst and then slowly made his way along the street and into the alley where his wagon was parked.

Vin stopped and sighed and then leaned heavily on the edge of the wagon as he attempted to climb up into the run down buckboard"

"You need a hand," Chris stated, approaching his friend from behind.

"I can do it," Vin growled.

"It wasn’t a question. I said that you need a hand."

Vin turned, his eyes blazing with the undiluted rage that he felt. Up until now, he had been civil to Chris. He had successfully ignored the burning in his soul but now, alone in the alley away from prying eyes, Vin allowed his fervor to the surface. "&*%@ off, Larabee!"

"Can’t," Chris stated evenly.

"Why the hell not?! You’ve been avoiding me like the plague for over a week. I didn’t ask to get shot, you stupid sonofabitch! And if you think I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with one of you chaperoning me then you’re &*%@in’ crazy. If one of the boys had been with me when those bastards ambushed me they woulda been killed, so..."

"Shut-up." It was said softly, but with passion.

"&*%@ you, Larabee and leave me the hell alone!"

"Can’t, because..." And Chris smiled. "Because of something to do with cutting cloth, two fish and a horse that takes off."

Vin’s right eyebrow arched curiously. "Josiah?"

"Yeah. Damned if I understand a word of it, but..." Chris swallowed. "He did say something about family and that part I did understand. And about the difference between existing and living. Look, I..."

"Don’t." Chris’ eyebrows drew down. Vin’s blue eyes held Larabee’s for a split second. "Will you help me up into my wagon, Cowboy?" The two men stared at each other, both feeling the tension of the past week drain out of them.

"Sure." Chris eased his hands under Vin’s arms and lifted the smaller man up into the wagon. Vin groaned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just sore is all," Vin’s disembodied voice called. Moments later he reappeared and leaning heavily on Chris’ shoulder stepped out of the wagon. In his hand he held his harmonica.

Chris grimaced. "If I’d known you were going to get that thing I never..."

Vin started blowing the instrument drowning out Chris’ complaint.

As the two men appeared out of the alley, walking shoulder to shoulder, the citizens of Four Corners paused. That was not something they had seen for far too long.

"For Christ’s sake, Vin, that’s God damn awful," Chris complained as Vin continued to puff relentlessly into the harmonica.

Josiah Sanchez grinned at Ezra. "Now what is that they say, Ezra? A man can choose his friends but not his family."

Ezra glanced at the preacher and smiled. "Well, done my friend. You saved two souls today."

"Amen to that."

Vin and Chris slipped into the two chairs outside the saloon where they usually sat that this time of the day... or at least always had until Vin had been shot a fortnight earlier.

Vin lowered the harmonica, his brow creasing with thought. "Horses, cloth and fish?"

Chris cast an eye at the young man, his face relaxed for the first time in two weeks. When he had seen Peso appear out of the trees with Vin over the saddle, Chris Larabee’s soul had shrivelled and died.

"Well, you see, Vin, there was this man and.... listen, when I get to the one about the fish, you’re the small, quick, ugly one."

"Huh?" Vin asked.

Larabee burst out laughing. He reached out his hand and placed it on Vin’s shoulder. When the laughter died away, he and his best friend continued to stare at each other. Chris sat counting his blessings that Vin was not a man who held a grudge, nor seemed to need any explanation for the unreasonable way Chris had treated him. Vin Tanner just seemed to know intuitively that his older friend had been hurting and he forgave him without thought or malice, but then that’s family.

You can’t help what you are, Chris.* Vin grinned. Larabee shoved the younger man. "So, there was this man?" Vin prompted.

"Oh, yeah. There was the man who had a horse."

"What type of horse?"

"How the &*%@ do I know what type of horse?!"

"Well, it could be important to the story."

"Do you want to hear this or not?!" Chris snarled.

"Alright, alright. Don’t go having a cow on me. A man and a horse. What’s that got to do with a small ugly fish?"

"Dammit, Vin will you let me finish! There was this man..."

The other five regulators watched from afar. All of the men had relieved grins on their faces.

"I don’t know what you said, Josiah, but thanks," Buck whispered.

Josiah winked at his friends. "Brothers, have I ever told you the story about..." Ezra, Buck, Nathan and J.D. bolted in four different directions. Josiah Sanchez smiled. "The one about horses, cloth and fish."

Return to "Horses, Cloth and Fish" index

---

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© June 2003 Aussie Lass. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to the owners of “The Magnificent Seven” and I thank them sincerely for turning a blind eye so I can borrow them. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.