Vin tipped the shot glass back and downed the contents.  The amber liquid burned as it slid down his throat and the dulling warmth spread, but failed to ease the ache he felt.  He handed the glass back to the barkeep, who tilted his head to the side – subtly enquiring if Vin wanted a refill.

Vin stared at the glass but shook his head.  He’d had three, two more than he usually did.  However, it was Christmas Eve.  Vin caught sight of his image in the mirror behind the bar. He was on his own, just as he always was at this time of the year. 

Vin grimaced unconsciously and then turned to stare at the other occupants of the room.  Drunks lay slumped on tables.  Card players glared at each other.  Cowboys sat staring wistfully into their drinks.  A group of strangers stood arguing further down the bar. 

Yep, it was definitely Christmas. 

The chill of winter and burn of loneliness penetrated Vin’s buckskin coat.  Strangely, this was the only time of the year he yearned for company.  Normally he was satisfied with the companionship of his horse but for some reason, Christmas was different... and this year the sense of isolation was intense. 

On the breeze, children’s excited voices and the sound of the choir Josiah had organized wafted into the saloon.  Both brought wisps of memories, but Vin couldn’t grasp any. His memories of his last real Christmas had faded. After all, those memories were almost twenty years old.

Vin felt a sense of great loss, but wasn’t sure why.  It was the same every Christmas.  Normally he tried to be on the trail so the day would pass almost unnoticed, but this year, he’d signed on to protect this town and so had agreed to stay on hand in case there was trouble.

Vin’s eyes drifted to Chris. His friend of four months was hunched over a bottle of whiskey at his regular table in the corner... also alone this Christmas due to a tragedy Vin wouldn’t wish upon his worst enemy.

Vin felt a pang of sympathy for the man he had come to know so completely.  Earlier that day, Chris had visited the burnt shell of his ranch... a physical reminder of the blackened embers of his soul.  Vin understood that the loss of Chris’ wife and child was particularly painful at this time of year when other families were celebrating.  Since returning from visiting his family’s graves, Larabee had found solace in a bottle and Vin had given him the space to do so.

In the centre of the room Ezra was playing solitaire... another man alone this Christmas.  Ezra’s mother had visited, but left the morning before to reach some poker game scheduled for Christmas Day... a game she never missed. 

Ezra’s expression, which was usually so blank when he had cards in his hand, was shadowed with regrets.  Clearly he didn’t want company either.

Vin’s thoughts drifted to his other friends.  Buck was enjoying the companionship of two young ladies in one of rooms upstairs while J.D., Nathan and Josiah were at a Christmas party hosted for the town’s children.  Vin had been invited but he’d declined - too many people.

Rising from the bar, Vin crossed the room.  He paused before reaching for a chair.  “Want some company?”

Chris’ glare at the bottle in the middle of the table deepened.  “No.”

Vin blinked sadly and pulled his hat onto his head.  “You and Ezra have saloon the covered.  I’ll check the street.”  He stared down at Chris, the first person he had trusted in years.  It was only fifteen minutes until midnight.

In a hushed but sincere voice, Vin said, “Merry Christmas, Cowboy.” 

Vin strode between the tables, tipped his hat to Ezra, stepped over a drunk who’d fallen from his chair earlier and then shouldered out of the saloon.

**********

Chris cursed softly.  He’d seen the look of deep melancholy in Vin’s eyes.  Chris snatched the bottle from the table but hesitated.  Vin’s expression replayed in his mind.  Chris shut his eyes, lowered the bottle and shook his head.  The bottomless pit inside him ached.  He glanced toward the batwing doors and regretted shutting Vin out tonight - tonight of all nights when he needed Vin’s quiet understanding.  What stung though was his failure to realize Vin had needed his company until he’d seen the look in Vin’s eyes.  Cursing his selfishness and all consuming pity he had for himself, Chris followed the same path Vin had toward the door, nodding to Ezra, stepping over the drunk and entering the street.

The temperature was icy.  No snow, but it was probably falling in the mountains tonight.  Chris scanned the street in both directions.  It was empty apart from a group of five on horseback.  They had come for supplies earlier in the day, argued in the saloon a few minutes ago and now their pack animals were loaded with sacks.  Chris watched them until they left the glow of the street fires placed at strategic intervals. 

From the Clarion, there were voices and singing.  Vin wouldn’t have gone there.  Chris strolled down the boardwalk and turned into the ally that housed Vin’s wagon.  He whistled to let his ever-cautious friend know he was approaching and then pulled the flap back.  The wagon was empty.

With a sigh, Chris headed for the livery only to discover Peso in his stall.  Chris stood in the doorway of the stable looking out on the town. 

Wagon... riding...saloon.  They were the only three places Vin went.  A spark of concern caught hold.

Chris strode with increasing pace down the middle of the street looking from side to side.  Finally, he succumbed to the urge to call out.  “Vin?... Vin, where the hell are you?”

Fear and panic ignited.  The men on horseback.  Large sacks.  “Damn!”

Chris jogged to the spot below Buck’s room, picked up a handful of rocks and hurled them up at the window.

Moment’s later, the curtain moved and Buck’s face peered out.  The curtain was then swept aside, the window opened and Buck leaned out. “Stud, I’m a bit busy, if you get my...”

“Vin’s missing.”  It was a growl.

Buck stared.  “Wagon?”

“No, and he’s not in the saloon. Peso’s in his stall... and a group just rode out of here.”

“I’m coming down,” Buck declared, closing the window.

Chris shouldered into the saloon his panic growing.  “Ezra.”

Ezra rose immediately, appearing to sense the urgency.

“Vin’s missing. A group of cowboys just rode out of here.”

“Was he alive?” Ezra demanded.

Chris’ chest tightened.  “Get the others while I prepare the horses.”

Ezra nodded and sprinted toward the Clarion.

****

Josiah raced toward the church to collect his rifle.  Vin was missing and a group of men had been seen leaving town immediately after he’d disappeared. It didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened.

As Josiah reached the top of the stairs, he froze.  Two candles on the altar cast a soft glow around the small building, welcoming weary travellers this Christmas Eve.  Sitting in a pew about half way down on the left side was an unmistakable outline.

Josiah spun around and waved insistently to his companions, who were mounted in the middle of the street.  With a sweeping gesture the ex-preacher beckoned them over, calling softly, “He’s in here.”

Chris Larabee dismounted, thrust the reins of his horse at Buck and marched up the stairs, urged on by something very powerful.

“Chris, I think....” 

Chris shouldered past Josiah, ignoring him and burst into the church.

Vin spun around, his mare’s leg in his fist.  “Larabee?”

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Chris blasted, closing the gap between them.

Vin lowered his weapon. “Huh?”

“You’re supposed to be keeping your head down with the extra people in town,” Chris shouted, his terror and fear exploding out of him.

Vin blinked.  “What the hell put a bur under your saddle?”

“We were worried,” Josiah offered as the rest of the boys entered the room, their faces awash with concern.

“What? Why?” Vin asked in confusion.

“When we could not locate you, we feared the worst.  Let me say I am exceedingly pleased you are unharmed.”

Vin drew his gaze to Chris who had calmed.  Larabee’s eyes flashed an apology for his outburst.  He’d panicked because he cared and at that moment this fact was obvious both to him and to the man in the buckskin coat who had become so much closer than just a friend.

“Didn’t mean to...  when I was little we went to church Christmas Eve.  Don’t reckon I’ve been inside a church since I was five,” Vin murmured. 

Chris offered his arm and Vin took it, their arms snapping together.  Both drew strength from the grip and allowed the sense of brotherhood they felt to wash over them.

“This is the place to be at Christmas,” Josiah assured, quietly, his gaze sweeping his companions.

Vin glanced at Josiah and sensed the ex-preacher wasn’t referring to the church but to the men around him.

“God has gathered his lost sheep together,” Josiah preached softly.

“Scared the living shit of me, Vin,” Buck stated, slapping the younger man on the back, a beaming smile on his face.

“I thought I was going to be digging some bullets out of you, Vin,” Nathan stated, patting his friend’s arm with great affection.

“When Ezra said you were missing...” J.D. started.  He smiled.  “Reckon we all got a bit of a fright.”

Vin eyed his friends curiously, noting how relieved they looked.  It had been a long time since anyone had given a damn about where he was and if he was okay.  “Thanks, boys.”

Josiah gazed up at the clock on the wall that showed it was three minutes to midnight. He walked to a small cupboard on the far left and took out a bottle and seven odd cups and glasses.  “I remember last Christmas distinctly.  I was alone in a flea-infested room the size of a shoe box... well, alone save for two rats with whom I shared my Christmas Eve meal of a slice of cheese and a piece bread.”

Josiah handed a tin mug to Ezra. 

“I confess that this time last year my situation was the same, Mr. Sanchez... minus the rats.”

Nathan accepted a glass from Josiah.  “Yeah, I was alone last Christmas.”  He glanced at Vin.

Vin nodded, affirming his situation had mirrored his friends.

All eyes turned to Chris as he was handed a cup of alcohol.  Larabee grunted, acknowledging he too had been spent the day without company.

J.D. sighed.  “Mama died October last year.  It was a lonely Christmas.”

One by one, the men looked at the final member of their eccentric group.  Buck looked embarrassed and shrugged.  “I think I was with twins until midnight and then after midnight I was with this buxom bar maid and then...”

J.D. shoved Buck and the others grinned stupidly.

Nathan raised his glass.  “To not being alone this Christmas.”

Vin nodded.  “Yep.”

J.D. raised his tin cup.  “To not being alone this Christmas.”

Buck sighed and whispered sincerely, “To being with friends who care this Christmas.”

All paused to stare at him and smiles of agreement were exchanged.

Chris nodded and raised his glass.

The clock on the wall began to chime midnight.

Josiah lifted his mug.  “To not being alone, but with friends who care this Christmas... and to – God willing – being together with family again next Christmas.”

Expressions became serious as Josiah’s words hit home.

Ezra, the only one to not raise his glass, lifted it announcing sincerely, “I’ll drink to that.”

Cups and glasses were up-ended, and coughing and spluttering abounded.

“What the hell is this?”

“Sherry.”

“Tastes like fairy pee!”

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Wilmington, Sherry is a gentleman’s drink, which would explain why you find it unpalatable.”

Moments later cards were dealt and laugher echoed in the small church as seven men started a tradition that would be repeated every year for the rest of their lives.  Never again would any of them be alone at Christmas.

---

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© November 2008 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 MGM and Trilogy Entertainment and 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.