The sun continued to rise above the horizon, illuminating the parched land in its blazing glow. Most of creation was just beginning to stir. On the trail leading from Four Corners were two riders enjoying the solitude of the waking day.
“Keep it up if you think you can outrun a bullet, “Chris yawned, rubbing his eyes.
Vin smirked at the response to his ‘suggestions‘. Larabee was traditionally an early riser, but trouble in town the night before had kept him from his bed until the primitive hours of the morning and thus the drowsiness of sleep was still clinging to him. The reason he had left his uncomfortable cot before he was willing was because of a request Judge Travis had received from the sheriff of a neighbouring town. Sheriff Nelson required a couple of experienced escorts to pick up a single prisoner and transport him to Eagle Bend where a prison wagon would collect him at noon. River Strike was only a few hours’ ride from Four Corners and so the Judge had promised two of the regulators. Nelson had requested Larabee by name. Apparently the prisoner was something of a handful and the sheriff felt that a gunfighter like Larabee would keep the convict quiet.
Chris had accepted the job without comment, which had left the question of a partner for the journey. J.D. had pointed out that he would be on jail duty, Buck insisted he had important plans that couldn‘t be changed, Nathan and Josiah were out at the reservation and Ezra had discreetly made himself scarce at the time of the discussion - leaving only the Seven’s tracker.
Vin, who never seemed to need sleep, had roused his irritable colleague just after dawn. The pair had ridden in silence for most of the morning, chatting only occasionally. Neither required conversation for entertainment, each happy to enjoy the peace of the ride. Vin’s comment on Larabee’s cheerful disposition and following suggestions on how to improve it had come from nowhere.
“What, you don’t like any of the ideas, Cowboy?”
Chris flicked his friend a narrow-eyed glare. Vin grinned. Their friendship was so easy. They didn’t need to work at it. There were never any uncomfortable silences, and differences of opinion, while plenty, didn’t seem to matter.
“I had less than three hours’ sleep, Tanner. Don’t push me.”
“I’m amazed anyone had any sleep with the noise Buck and that girl were making,” Vin chuckled.
“Yeah, Buck’s important plans that couldn’t be changed,” Larabee agreed with a grin.
“Buck certainly gets his share.”
“Buck’s getting everyone’s share!”
**********
The pair arrived in River Strike at about 10.00 am. It was a mining town, or what was left after most of the miners had moved on a dozen years past. Many of the buildings had been boarded up and those that weren’t were dilapidated. The atmosphere reminded Vin of Four Corners when he'd first arrived. The faces of the people watching him ride in were furtive, wary or terrified.
“Nice place,” the tracker commented.
“Yeah,” Chris agreed.
“You fit right in.”
“You’re just going to keep pushing, aren’t you, Tanner?”
The further down the street they rode, the more disturbing the mood. All other movement stopped. People stared at the two men with palpable apprehension. Without warning, the citizens of River Strike began leaving the street and racing indoors.
“You’ve got to stop smilin’ at people, Cowboy,” Vin commented, though there was very little mirth left in his voice. While he had seen this sort of reaction before, it unnerved him being the sole focus of attention.
“I thought smiling more was one of your suggestions,” Chris replied, pulling his horse up outside the sheriff’s office.
“Maybe the sheriff told them we were coming,” Vin suggested seriously. Nelson had requested Larabee because he was a gunfighter. Most people feared such men with good reason.
Larabee and Tanner dismounted. Across the street, the saloon doors flew open and a horde of miners began to flood out. Many stumbled and shouted obscenities. All had been drinking and it was obvious someone had taken the time to fire them up.
“Ahhh, the welcoming committee,” Tanner muttered as he and Chris turned to face the group. Snarls and glares greeted the pair. A sea of hostile faces spread out in both directions. Vin eyed the crowd and cursed softly. He and Chris could handle a dozen, but there were more than double that. The regulators would need to talk their way out of this. Unfortunately, talking was not a strength for either.
As the mob angrily jostled for a better view of the two strangers, Larabee and Tanner dropped their hands and allowed them to rest on their holstered guns.
“What seems to be the problem?” Larabee growled softly, scanning the men to find their leader.
“You’re the problem, Larabee,” one of the group shouted. The others backed him up with cries of support.
“Fans of yours?” Vin murmured.
“You‘re gonna pay, gunfighter,” the speaker added. “You can’t take on all of us.”
“I’ll watch the others, you take the leader,” Vin suggested, providing Chris with the opportunity to focus on the main troublemaker.
“Get it off your chest, mister.” Chris invited the tall man who appeared in charge.
“You’re a murdering bastard. I’m gonna see that you pay for the murder of my brother.“ He stabbed a finger in Chris’ direction which provoked loud encouragement from the crowd. Vin scanned the group. It wasn’t going to take much for them to be goaded into a riot. At the moment, no one was reaching for a gun, but it was only a matter of time.
Tanner chanced a glance at his partner, trying to discern if there was any truth in the claims. Not that it mattered. Chris’ past was his own and Vin would stand beside him no matter what.
“I’m Jason Gregory,” the mob’s leader yelled, without prompting. “Paul Gregory was my brother.”
Larabee’s face remained blank. “Who?”
Gregory’s eyes grew wide, his skin flushing with rage. “You bastard! You know who I’m talking about. You shot him in cold blood! Less than a year ago! He didn‘t have a chance against the likes of you!”
The rabble began to comment and move restlessly. Vin set his shoulders. A couple of well placed shots should slow them down long enough for he and Chris to find cover.
“I don’t know you and I don’t know your brother,” Chris stated, firmly. “We’ve come to River Strike at the request of your sheriff. Why don’t you all move on and let us go about our business?”
Vin sensed movement behind. He looked back and spotted men moving in. He and Chris were being encircled. No longer did Vin believe that this was entirely the actions of a group of disgruntled drunks fired up by a single man with a bone to pick. Someone had developed a plan and it was being well orchestrated. “Chris,” Tanner warned his friend as he turned to face the newcomers. Shoulder to shoulder, but facing opposite directions, Chris and Vin calculated the odds. Larabee swore. They didn’t have a chance against this number. Whatever the group’s intentions, Chris needed to secure Vin’s release. With one of them free, they could turn the tables.
Before the gunfighter could start negotiating for his partner’s freedom, the sheriff appeared in the doorway of the jailhouse. His thin face was lined with anxiety and twitched nervously.
“Nelson,” Chris greeted. “You want to do something about this before I have to?”
“Calm down, Larabee,” the sheriff begged. “I’ve heard what this fella has to say. He reckons you murdered his brother. Do you deny it?“
The silence that followed was deafening. Through the closed door of the closest building a woman’s terrified prayers could be heard. Dust was lifted from the ground in clouds as the wind picked up, blowing Larabee’s duster out behind him. Tanner slid his hand down further, checking his mare’s leg. Everyone waited.
“Would it matter if I denied it?“ Chris snarled. The response wasn’t what people were expecting and the reaction was mixed. Some of the intoxicated men appeared to sober, beginning to question the source of their information. Others saw the answer as a clear denial. They were certain the black-clad gunfighter sporting the pearl-handled guns was as guilty as sin.
“Then I’m asking you to throw your guns down,“ Nelson stated, stepping into the street. He could feel the eyes of the mob on him. Swallowing, he finished, “You’ve got some explaining to do, Mr. Larabee.”
“What?” Vin thundered. Tanner shot Chris a glance. Around them, the baying pack continued to move restlessly.
“Give it up, Larabee. I’ll contact Judge Travis and he can make any decisions that need to be made,” Nelson offered. His eyes pleaded with Chris.
“Arrest him, Sheriff,” Gregory ordered. “I want him behind bars. The judge will hang him.”
“Please. I’ll wire the judge immediately,” Nelson assured.
Vin flicked his eyes to Chris and shook his head. He didn’t like this. A couple of shots and we run for our horses. We’ll beat them to Four Corners.
Chris scanned the angry glares being broadcast. Too many men. The odds of dodging that many bullets was something not even Ezra would bet on and Chris wasn't prepared to risk Vin's life. Sheriff Nelson was spineless, so assistance from that corner would be non-existent. However, Gregory appeared happy for the gunfighter to put behind bars. His mention of the Judge hanging Larabee suggested he wanted an official trial. The boys could be here in a couple of hours and then they could keep an eye on the mob while everyone waited for the Judge.
Ready? Vin prompted.
Chris shook his head. Not now. Get the boys.
Chris, no!
Larabee gripped Vin’s shoulder. We need the boys. You arrested along side me isn’t going to help.
Vin flicked his eyes back to the crowd. He would fight to the death, but death wasn't the outcome he or Chris wanted. Larabee surrendering while he called for support was their best chance. Vin, too, had heard the main protagonist's comment regarding the Judge hanging Chris. In that he found some comfort, but with a little more alcohol everything could change. Tanner's eyes moved back to Chris. I don't like this.
The boys are only a few hours away.
Chris undid his gun belt and let it slip to the ground. Cheers and leers followed. The sheriff stepped forward and expressed his thanks. He reached for Chris’ shoulder but Larabee shrugged him off and headed into the jail. Nelson crouched to pick up Chris’ guns but a snarl stopped him in his tracks.
“Leave them.” Vin scooped up the gun belt and held the sheriff’s gaze as the other man stood. “I’ll wire the judge. You better make sure nothing happens to him." Vin's voice dropped, his eyes becoming intense. "Or I’ll become your worst nightmare, Nelson.” The aggression was measurable and genuine.
Sheriff Nelson licked his lips, stepped back and raced after Larabee, but his eyes remained riveted to Tanner - Vin‘s stare refusing to release the spineless lawman until he retreated indoors.
Gradually, the mob began to disperse, cheering happily. Vin monitored the departure of all involved. He was ready to step in should anyone attempt to enter the jailhouse.
The group who had moved in behind the regulators walked past Tanner, one deliberately shouldering him. Vin struggled against the urge to tear the man apart, but he knew he needed to remain in control. Chris’ life could depend on it. The six men joined Gregory and faced Vin with threatening stances.
“Be best if you just rode out of here,” the leader of the group called to Tanner. “We’ve got no argument with you. Larabee has to pay for his crime.”
“Reckon I’ll stick around for a while. It was a long ride,” Vin replied. He tipped his hat, turned and headed along the deserted street in search of the telegraph office.
Gregory and his friends watched him with suspicion for a couple moments, exchanged a few muttered words and deciding that Vin was no more than a dusty pile of rags who presented little threat without the gunfighter at his side, they disappeared into the saloon to join the celebrations.
Over the next few minutes, doors and windows were reopened, though very few wary locals ventured back onto the street. Vin ignored the stares. He had stopped outside the telegraph office to study the reaction of the town. The locals didn’t support what had just happened, but their fear prevented them from becoming involved. Vin had seen it before.
Tanner’s attention kept being drawn to the jail where Chris was held. It would take only seconds for someone to walk in there and shoot his friend which meant Vin couldn‘t afford to leave Chris unattended. Unfortunately, sending for help would mean taking his eyes from the jail for a few minutes. In two minds, but satisfied that Gregory and his men were settled in the saloon, Vin entered the telegraph office.
The old man behind the desk eyed Tanner critically, but without fear. “You’ll be wanting to send a message to all towns around here to find the Circuit Judge? That’ll cost money. I should tell you that it’ll be a waste of time. They aren’t gonna wait around for any Judge.” His silver moustache twitched as he talked.
“We’ll, see,” Vin replied.
The telegraph operator’s weathered face creased with thought as he looked Vin up and down. “Larabee’s a gunfighter. You’re not.”
Vin ignored the statement and fished around in his pocket for some money, all the while staring out the window watching for trouble.
“Is Larabee guilty?”
“Don’t really care,” Vin muttered, walking back to the door so he could see the jailhouse and anyone attempting to enter it. “How much to send a couple of words to Four Corners?”
“You’re genuinely worried about him, aren’t you?” the elderly man commented with surprise. “Who would have thought. He’s a good man then?“
“I haven’t met better.“ Vin’s hand slipped down to his revolver when he spotted two men leave the saloon and head in the direction of the jail. When they walked passed, Tanner released a breath of relief.
“You known him for long?” the inquisitive local asked.
“Long enough. How much for the telegram?” Vin repeated, becoming impatient, though he was still facing the street. There was a long silence and Vin glanced back in search of an answer.
“They’ll lynch him.” The words were hushed.
“Yeah, reckon after a few more drinks they’ll try,” Vin acknowledged, returning to his vigil.
The telegraph operator frowned, stepped out from behind his counter and shuffled across to the window, checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation. Vin watched him curiously. The elderly man’s back was bent from years of fruitless prospecting and his skin was the colour and texture of leather, but there was life and defiance in his eyes.
Finally, the local directed his attention to Vin and once again scrutinized him. “Name’s Martin Ridgewater. I came here with the first wagonload of people. We built this town from nothing. It wasn‘t always like this.” Vin wasn’t sure why Ridgewater felt the need to impart this knowledge. Perhaps he was trying to apologise on behalf of the town.
“Mister, I just need to send a telegram.”
Ridgewater scanned the street. While he didn’t appear to fear Tanner or what had just happened in town, there was something worrying him. “I’ve got family here,“ he stated out of the blue. “No one wants to get involved.“
“Yeah, I saw that.“
The telegraph operator drew in a deep breath. “Look, you seem like a decent sort of fella and I don‘t want to see you get caught in the middle.”
Vin frowned and his eyes become intense. “In the middle of what?”
Ridgewater paused, reconsidering his decision to trust the stranger.
“In the middle of what?!” Vin repeated, louder.
“Most of them miners arrived yesterday. Someone had told them that there was gold around here, which is a load of crap. Then that Gregory fella arrived with his men. I overheard them talking this morning. They knew Larabee was coming.”
Vin rubbed his stubbled chin. “Yeah, I‘d worked that out. Go on.”
“I heard Gregory say that the sheriff would arrest Larabee and that for a small sum of money, Sheriff Nelson will leave the jail unattended. Then they’re just going to walk in there and…”
Vin swore, slamming his fist into the closest wall. He knew Chris surrendering was wrong. Everything had been well planned, right down to ensuring there were enough mindless drunks in town who would make the odds impossible. Someone was going to pay.
His chest heaving with rage, Tanner walked outside and stopped. He was ready to tear Nelson apart. Vin glared at the saloon and then directed his attention to the jailhouse. It was a solid building and breaking Chris out, if he was actually locked behind bars, would be difficult. Perhaps he should just walk in there, direct his revolver at the sheriff, order Chris’ release and then the two of them could ride out. Vin knew he would never get that far. Gregory and his men would be watching the jail and the moment Vin walked in there, they would come running.
Ridgewater observed with concern and the first signs of alarm. It was obvious the man dressed in buckskin was more dangerous than first thought and contemplating a jailbreak. “There isn’t anything you can do on your own. Best thing is for you to get away. I’ll send the message for the Judge. No charge, but you shouldn’t hang around. They’ll just come after you, too,” he called out, trying to calm Tanner.
Vin turned to the telegraph officer who was still inside. “Did they say when the sheriff was going to leave?”
“No.”
Vin‘s brow furrowed with deep thought. “I need you to send a telegram to Four Corners.”
“Okay,” Ridgewater acknowledged, relieved. “How many words?”
Vin thought about it. “Two.”
“Only two words?”
**********
Ezra Standish smiled. J.D. rolled his eyes. Buck cursed and Josiah threw his cards down. The saloon in Four Corners was the scene of yet another poker crucifixion.
"Gentlemen, it would appear Lady Luck is smiling on me today." Ezra laid his hand out which prompted more muttered curses of disgust from his opponents.
"That's it. I'm out," Josiah sighed, pushing his chair back and watching as Ezra raked in his wages for the week.
"That makes two of us," J.D. agreed.
"Three," Buck snorted, standing. "That's the last time I sit down at a card table with you, Ezra."
Ezra beamed. "Same time tomorrow?"
Buck smirked. "If I can beg, borrow or steal some money, yeah." The big man picked up a coin from the mound in front of Ezra, shoved it in his pocket and winked.
Ezra tipped his hat to his friends as they left and scanned the room for other prospective contestants in a game of chance. Unfortunately, the room was relatively empty. Standish sighed, tucked the cards into a pocket on the inside of his bright red jacket and headed outdoors. All was quiet. No longer was Four Corners the scene of lawlessness. Now, people could walk the town secure in the knowledge that their seven hired guns would deal harshly with people disturbing the peace.
Ezra paused to watch the daily activity on the dusty street. Mrs. Potter was sweeping the boardwalk. Buck was chatting up a young woman, J.D. was standing in the doorway of the jailhouse showing off by twirling his guns, Josiah was sitting on the steps of the church reading his Bible and a group of cowhands were unloading a wagon. Ezra grimaced. This was why he got out of bed this morning? At what point had he become comfortable with this lifestyle?
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the town's telegraph officer trying to attract his attention. Ezra stepped off the boardwalk to await the other man's arrival.
"Mr. Johnson?"
"I've got a telegraph here for one of you fellas. Only two words."
Ezra smiled. Vin and Chris had said they'd wire the moment they had the prisoner secured. Of course both were men of few words and so Ezra could only imagine what the message said. "And what literary masterpiece have they authored?"
Johnson handed the piece of paper over. The smile fell from Ezra's face and a shout of urgency left his lips, echoing off the buildings. "Boys!"
Josiah glanced up from his reading, Buck separated from the young woman he was entangled with, J.D. dropped one of his revolvers, distracted by the shout and Nathan appeared on the landing above the livery.
"Vin and Chris are in trouble!" The formality that Ezra used to consciously keep others at a distance was forgotten. His friends needed help. Standish jogged toward the other regulators who were all converging on him.
"What's happened?" Josiah asked, spotting the telegram.
"I don't know," Ezra commented, handing the note to the preacher.
"Trouble. Come." Josiah read. The group exchanged a look.
"What sort of trouble?" J.D. asked.
"Doesn't matter. They want us to come. Let's go," Buck ordered, leading the others into the livery.
Moments later, the group of five reappeared on horseback and galloped out of town in the direction of River Strike. The urgency the men felt was belted out by the thundering hoofs of their mounts, giving their all to reach the pace their rider's spurs were insisting of them.
The people of Four Corners paused to watch.
"Someone's pissed them off," one man commented.
"Yep, someone's in deep shit."
**********
From inside his small rectangular cell, Larabee watched the sheriff with narrowed eyes. Nelson had not only repeatedly apologised for what had happened, but kept asking the imprisoned man for his colleague’s name. Whatever Tanner had said to the sheriff had been effective. Nelson was shitting himself.
The sheriff continued to pace, flicking his eyes to Larabee's expressionless face. "This ain't my fault, Larabee. There isn't anything I can do."
Chris said nothing. Nelson approached the bars. "I need you to tell that crazy mongrel you're with that this ain't my fault!"
"When the judge gets here and clears this up, 'that mongrel' will leave."
Nelson licked his lips and stepped back. "I... they aren't going to wait for the judge. I..." Guilt flooded the gutless man’s face.
"Sounds like you knew that before you brought me in here," Larabee commented, pulling his hat over his eyes and leaning back against the wall.
Chris drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. They were going to lynch him and by the sound of it, Nelson was in on the plan. The only thing standing between Chris and his maker was Vin. Tanner was outnumbered and outgunned, but Larabee knew with complete certainty his friend would be there when he needed him. The gunfighter had only known Tanner for a handful of months and yet, they shared an understanding, faith and loyalty more complete than a hundred years of friendship could have established. This unique understanding had provided Chris with an insight which had saved Vin’s life a fortnight earlier when Tanner and Standish had come across some bounty hunters on the trail. The group had swapped clothes with the two regulators in a deception that would confuse Ezra and Vin’s friends into believing that the bounty hunters were in fact the two peacekeepers. Chris and the rest of the boys had arrived in time to see Tanner and Standish’s escape, but when the tables apparently turned, Chris was left to make the shot of his life. A man in a checkered green shirt in combat with the buckskin clad regulator... or so it had seemed.
Larabee’s eyes, fooled by the deception, had insisted on a single target... his heart had demanded he pause... his soul had redirected the shot and averted a tragedy. How he had known that Vin’s attacker was wearing the tracker’s distinctive buckskin coat, Chris couldn’t answer. How he had sensed Vin had been in trouble long before being told was beyond his comprehension. How Vin had known Chris was coming, as opposed to suspecting that he would come, neither Larabee nor Tanner understood, but they now acknowledged these things as facts. Following the incident, the pair had sat down alone to discuss the strange series of events. Neither could find the words needed to express their confusion nor conceptualise the strong bond they seemed to share, but they quickly discovered that words weren’t needed. The very ‘connection’ they were trying to articulate enabled them to come to an understanding without copious conversation. One sentence said it all.
Everything else they wanted to say was communicated in that single handshake. Theirs was a brotherhood founded not on family ties or years of friendship, but on two souls that had recognised in the other a kindred spirit.
**********
“Can I get you anything?” Ridgewater called from a safe distance. Vin had set up a chair inside the telegraph office near the window. This spot provided him with ample cover and a clear view of both the saloon and the jailhouse which were directly opposite each other.
“Do you have a gun?” Vin glanced back at the elderly man and noting the look of horror, Tanner smiled briefly. “I ain’t asking for your help, but I’m gonna need as much firepower as I can muster.”
“Oh. Yes, I have an old rife.”
“Ammunition?” Tanner asked, returning his attention to the street.
“A little. I’ll go and get it.“ He continued to stare at Vin, genuine worry on his face. “You won’t have a chance. That Gregory fella has at least six men with him and all the miners are drunk and will shoot anything that moves.”
“I only need about sixty seconds.”
Ridgewater’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he disappeared to collect his rifle without further comment.
Sixty seconds. Vin was sure he could get over to the jail, free Chris and be on their horses in that time. The animals were well placed for a jailbreak, being tied directly outside the building. The single opportunity would present between when the sheriff left the building and the lynch mob arrived. It would be the only time Chris wasn’t guarded. They would need a distraction in the saloon and for that Vin would have to call on Ridgewater for another favour. A rumour that gold had been found close by should see the miners leave in a hurry. In the confusion, Vin would be able to break Chris out.
Ridgewater reappeared and handed Vin the rifle.
“Thanks. I ain’t asking you to fight with me, but I do need you to do something.”
“What?” the old man asked, his face clouding with an equal amount of fear and suspicion.
“I’ve just heard that they’ve struck gold east of here. Red Fork. You know it?”
Ridgewater continued to stare at Vin and then smiled. “A rumour like that would empty this town in seconds.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m hopin‘. If you think it will place you or your family in danger...”
“Hell, no. I’ll tell old Sam Schneider. Biggest gossip in the territory. He’ll spread it like wildfire.”
Vin nodded his thanks and focused on the jail. People still hadn’t ventured out onto the street. Some were standing in doorways, others looking out windows but none were prepared to brave the outdoors.
“Do you want me to go and spread the rumour now?”
Vin shook his head. “The moment the sheriff leaves the jail.” Tanner threaded Chris’ gun belt over his shoulder and then checked his mare’s leg and rifle. Finally, he loaded the borrowed weapon and added the extra ammunition to the small bag that he had tied to his belt. If for some reason he and Chris got caught in the jail, he wanted to make sure they had enough firepower to hold the mob off until the boys arrived. He was counting on using the weapons and ammunition the sheriff had stored in the building.
Martin Ridgewater watched the young man and shook his head for the hundredth time. "Can't believe you're gonna take on all of them men on your own."
"Won't be," Vin muttered. Since he'd met Chris there hadn't been a single moment when he'd felt like he was on his own. It wasn't as if they spent every waking hour together. As a matter of fact, it was probably less than three hours a day, yet no matter where he was, Vin had a sense of Chris. Whatever the outcome of the next hour, Vin wouldn't be facing it alone. Besides, if fortune was smiling on them, the sheriff wouldn't leave for another couple of hours and by that time, the rest of the boys would have arrived and then Gregory and his mob wouldn't know what hit them.
"So, you owe this Larabee fella, then?"
Tanner glanced back at the other man. "What makes you say that?"
Ridgewater shrugged. "Don't know. What you're doing don't make sense otherwise."
"Stopping a man from being lynched don't make sense to you?"
The telegraph officer looked embarrassed. "Not against the sort of odds you're going up against. You aren't brothers are you?"
At this, Vin grinned. "Not that my ma ever mentioned." He returned to watching the street. There was still no sign of movement in the jail, but the noise from the saloon was building.
"That message you sent. How many men will come?"
"Enough."
"Enough to take on all of those men?"
Vin didn't reply. Slowly he rose from his chair. Ridgewater peered over his shoulder and swallowed. Sheriff Nelson had stepped into the open doorway of the sheriff's office.
"Get ready," Vin growled.
Ridgewater raced to the back of the room and waited. As soon as the stranger signalled him, he had to go out and spread the word about the gold strike. After that, he intended making himself scarce.
Tanner watched the sheriff, hoping the lawman would turn around and disappear inside. The boys would be another good hour. Vin really didn't want to have to resort to his flimsy plan of breaking Chris out. He would use that only as a last option.
The regulator's eyes narrowed. Why was Nelson standing there like that? The saloon doors burst open and Gregory stepped out flanked by his men.
Other people began to pour out of the drinking house. Vin shot a look at Nelson who stepped outside. Gregory approached the sheriff and they shook hands. As Tanner watched, Nelson handed the mob's leader a set of keys. The sheriff wasn't going to walk out and leave the jailhouse unattended so the others could walk in, he was literally handing Chris over! There wasn't going to be any opening to free Chris!
Vin spun around, raced across the room, shouldered past Ridgewater and disappeared out the back door.
