Legends Never Die...
They Just Mature Like a Fine Wine.
(Posted September 2003)
Chris Larabee surveyed the town around him. His town. He’d fought for it. Almost died for it on more than one occasion. For some reason, he’d decided to stay here. He’d never really been able to explain why. He’d been ready to move on for as long as he could remember, but it simply never happened.
His partners had come and gone over the years. J.D. and Buck had spent several months with the Texas Rangers before settling permanently in Four Corners. Josiah had gone on a number of treks in search of spiritual cleansing and Ezra had travelled to the big city numerous times, but both always returned. Like Chris, they couldn’t really explain why. Nathan and Raine had made Four Corners home and raised a large family and Vin, despite having his meagre possessions always packed, had built himself a shack a few miles out of town.
A month’s job for a dollar a day plus room and board had become a lifetime for all seven men... or maybe, a lifeline.
Chris placed his whittling knife on the rail in front of him and sipped his beer, his eyes drawn to the construction site nearby. The dilapidated buildings that had lined the street when he’d first ridden in had been replaced with modern establishments so many years ago that even they were starting to show wear from the harsh conditions that prevailed in these parts.
Progress. Time stopped for no one, Chris realized. Most of the changes had occurred when the railway had finally made its appearance.
Chris shifted in the chair where he spent his mornings these days. From the porch of the saloon he had a good view of everyone entering and leaving town. True, he was no longer responsible for the safety of Four Corner’s citizens, but old habits die hard... just like old gunfighters, Chris reflected.
As people passed, they nodded a greeting of respect. Chris Larabee was a legend around here. He’d never set out to be. Half the stories told weren’t true... the other half didn‘t do justice to what had actually happened.
The noise of conversation and activity filled the street. There were people everywhere - not like the old days. There were so many people living in and around Four Corners now that Chris had difficulty keeping up. Again, he reflected that it was no longer his concern. Hadn’t been for almost thirty years. Chris had seen a lot of people come and go. He’d buried quite a few, too. Both enemies and friends... some good friends.
“Grandpa Chris!” The words brought a smile to elderly man’s lined face. Three children raced up the stairs holding up a fish they’d caught. “You were right, Grandpa Chris. They were just where you said they’d be.” With pride, one of the trio handed him the two-inch creature.
“Quite a mouthful there, boys.”
Smiles radiated from the youngsters’ faces. They had dark, bright eyes that held the curiosity of youth, not unlike their grandfather’s had when Chris had first met him. John Dunne’s grandsons grabbed the fish and raced off yelling that they were off to catch more.
J.D. had eight children and four grandchildren and every one of them had inherited Dunne’s limitless energy. The memories took Chris back to the day he’d met his youngest partner - a man who could ride and shoot... not to mention fly and swim. Those were the days. Chris had felt alive then. Or perhaps, the term was useful. Now... now was now.
Larabee sat up straighter as a group of strangers rode into town. Young men carrying guns. Men covered in dust from a hard ride. Men who had trouble written all over them. Chris flicked his eyes to the sheriff’s office and waited. The sheriff appeared on cue and watched the group carefully for several seconds before returning inside. Larabee shook his head. He was the most useless excuse for a law enforcement officer Chris had ever come across. He wouldn’t know trouble if it came up and shit on his feet. The newcomers should be questioned to check their business.
The five dusty strangers tethered their horses, talked to a couple of locals and then headed for the saloon. Chris studied them with narrowed eyes as they approached. Four passed him without a second look.
The last stopped and glared at the elderly man. “I’m looking for someone. Woman I spoke to said you were the person to ask.”
“Ask,” Chris prompted. Years hadn’t eroded the deep tone of his voice. It was still authoritive and commanding.
“Fella called Tanner. Vin Tanner.”
Chris stared at the harsh-faced stranger and noticed the wanted poster in his hand. “Vin,” Chris reflected, quietly. Vin had spent his life looking over his shoulder because of bastards like this.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, I know him. So, you’re after the bounty? Five hundred dollars. It’s not worth what it was then.”
“True, but it’s still five hundred dollars,” the bounty hunter growled. “Where can I find him?”
“You weren’t even born when that warrant was put out for him,” Chris reflected, his thoughts rushing back to the day, seated on the side of a mountain near an Indian village, when Vin had first told him of the bounty.
“Do you know where I can find him?” the bounty hunter repeated, growing impatient.
Chris nodded and rose to his feet, his back cracking as he did so. It was a constant reminder of being old. Chris hated feeling old. “Come on,” he urged, leading the way down the stairs.
“Hang on, I want to get my associates.”
“You won’t need them,” Chris called back, taking off. His strides were long, relaxed and easy - remarkable for a man of his age who had lived a hard life. The bounty hunter jogged to catch up and fell into step beside the local dressed completely in black. People stopped, turned and nodded as Chris passed, watching him with a mixture of awe and pride. Those who weren’t old enough to remember the days when Chris Larabee’s six shooter had protected town had heard the stories.
A sharp whistle left Larabee’s lips several times. He may need support. Old habits die hard.
“Where are we going?” the bounty hunter demanded, unperturbed by the unexpected sound from his companion.
Larabee didn’t reply, but turned left at the church and led around the back to the graveyard. Chris inclined his head to a small headstone. The engraving was simple. “Vin Tanner - An innocent man. Rest in Peace, Cowboy.”
Chris stared down at the plain stone. “Not much to show for a life,” he commented quietly, his voice wavering ever so slightly.
“Yeah. You should have taken his body to Tascosa. They would have...” the bounty hunter’s words faded under the infamous Larabee glare which, if anything, was more potent these days than it had ever been.
“I’ll forget you said that. Vin Tanner was a good man. Twice the man you or I’ll ever be. Go and get your pack of vultures and get out of my town.”
“I’ll humour you,” the younger man chuckled, turning and walking away. The sarcasm and patronizing tone caused Chris’ blood to boil. No one would have spoken to him like that thirty years ago, but those days were gone. He was an old man, now. It was senseless acting like a young buck without back up. Chris had learned that the hard way. He didn’t take shit from anyone, but there were times when he had to control his temper and let things go.
Larabee dropped his gaze to the headstone and a multitude of emotions flooded his system. He remembered the day Josiah had laid the stone in place. He remembered the dozens of bounty hunters who had come looking for Vin over the years. He remembered the day the bullets had struck his best friend... bullets that hadn’t been meant for him. Chris was already down. Vin had thrown himself between Larabee and the shooter and he’d saved Chris’ life. Like Chris, Vin had been out of bullets. They’d been pinned down for hours and finally the group of horse rustlers had rushed them.
Tanner had made the split second decision, or perhaps it was simply reflex. He’d acted to protect Chris from the shot and he’d used the only thing he could... himself. After he took the first bullet he’d dived over Chris and taken three more in the back. The rest of the boys had arrived before the rustlers had been able to drag Tanner’s bullet riddled body off Larabee and kill him.
In the paper, Mary had described it as an amazing act of courage, loyalty and friendship. Chris knew it had been a great deal more. “No greater love has a man than to lay down his life for a friend... brother,” Josiah had preached as Vin lay in Chris’ arms, his life draining away with the blood flowing so freely from the gaping wounds. Tanner had said only one thing before his eyes closed. “I wouldn’t have changed a thing, Cowboy.”
As Larabee stood alone in the graveyard under the shade of the trees whose shadows swayed in the gentle breeze, he sensed the approach of another. He didn’t turn. The newcomer stopped next to him. For almost a minute they stood in silence.
“Bounty hunters?”
“Yeah,” Chris replied.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen any.”
“Can’t think why they still want your scrawny ass,” Chris stated, a smile creasing his lips.
Vin grinned. The headstone had been Ezra‘s idea. After Vin had been shot, they‘d erected it and instead of taking on bounty hunters, they simply showed them the stone and the vultures usually went on their way. Word had spread and the number searching for Vin had diminished over the years.
“Come on, old man. You can buy me a drink,” Vin suggested. Chris glanced at his best friend. ‘Old man’ had long replaced the affectionate term ‘cowboy’. Larabee wasn’t sure which one annoyed him more. He could see amusement reflected in Vin’s bright blue eyes.
Age hadn’t changed Vin at all. His hair hadn’t greyed like Chris’ and his face was still tanned despite not spending as much time in the sun. The buckskin coat was now faded and thin, but Vin saw no need to replace it, something that was a constant point of consternation with Ezra who had offered a hundred times to pay for something new. “Ain’t nothing wrong with this one. When it wears out, I’ll get something else.” Chris knew they’d bury his stubborn friend in that coat. Nothing was surer.
Together, Vin and Chris turned and started back toward the centre of town. Unlike Chris, whose gait had not altered since the days of his youth, Vin limped badly. One of the bullets he’d taken for his best friend had shattered his knee. Nathan had almost been forced to amputate the limb. It had been touch and go for almost two weeks as Vin hovered more dead than alive.
Once he pulled through, he’d gone through hell because of that knee. He was supposed to use a cane, but never did. For a while there was concern the joint would seize up and he would have a stiff leg, but Nathan had worked hard over successive months and Vin regained movement, though the limp was there to stay. Some days it was worse than others. Vin never complained. Chris had overhead him say once, “ can only complain if I’m not happy with what I did. Wouldn’t change it so I ain’t got a right to be complainin’.” A man couldn’t buy loyalty like that.
The pair stopped near the church, checking the street for sign of the bounty hunters. The five men were mounting their horses. Chris smiled with satisfaction as the disgruntled group rode out. The danger had passed. These days, danger worried Chris more than it ever had. He still trusted in his own ability but he couldn’t deny that things felt a hell of a lot harder then when he’d... been young.
At that moment, Buck appeared out of one of the boarding houses, his revolver in his right hand, a handful of his trousers in the left as he desperately tried to run and do them up at the same time. Buck was now portly. Wine, women and too much apple pie had caused his trim figure to expand. Certainly not fat, but middle age had settled in.
“Bucklin,” Vin drawled. “On time as usual.”
Buck paused, cursed and then smiled. “Heard there were bounty hunters in town asking about you.”
“Larabee handled it.”
“Interrupt somethin’, Buck?” Chris chuckled.
Buck winked. “Always. Reckon I could use a drink.” Wilmington’s ash moustache twitched with delight as his grey streaked hair caught the sunlight. Buck claimed it made him look distinguished. J.D. said old, which usually led to a slanging match. Not that J.D. could talk. Of all of the boys, only Josiah was greyer than the youngest member of the group.
The trio climbed the stairs and Chris led the way into the saloon, one of the only original buildings still standing. Larabee crossed the room to his table. It had been his table for over thirty years and even when the saloon was full, the locals didn’t sit there. Another sign of respect. They owed Larabee and his men more than they could ever repay.
Buck moved to the bar to order the drinks while Vin and Chris took seats. Tanner grimaced. He noted Chris staring and shrugged. “It’s gonna rain. Damn leg plays up when it’s gonna rain.”
“There isn’t a cloud in the sky,” Chris pointed out with a grin.
“Don’t start, Larabee. You know...”
Tanner’s eyes snapped to the entrance. Chris followed his gaze. The five bounty hunters had returned. Larabee’s heart caught in his throat. The group of rough men shouldered into the room and paused in the entrance, scanning the occupants. Spotting Larabee, their eyes moved to Vin and then down to the wanted posted one of them held.
“It’s him,” the leader announced.
“It sure is, Callaghan.”
Chris rose to his feet, his weathered hand slipping down to his holster. Adrenalin zapped around his frame. Vin remained seated and silently withdrew his battered mare’s leg. It had been a long time since they’d fought side by side. Elsewhere in the saloon, patrons became quiet.
“What do you want?” Chris asked, his eyes locked on the leader. The years slipped from Larabee’s face and the young man who dwelled inside him was forced to the surface by his need to protect a man he loved like a brother. No one was collecting the bounty on Vin. Not while Chris had breath in his body.
“I admire your courage, but Tanner‘s ours. Step out of the way,” Callaghan ordered.
Larabee’s eyes narrowed. “Just like old times,” he murmured to Vin.
“Yep, Cowboy.“ Vin pushed his chair back and rose to his feet to stand at Chris’ shoulder. They had stood together like this more times than either cared to count. True it had been a number of years since the last time, but this was something that came naturally to them. This was who they were.
“There are five of us and only two of you,” one of the other bounty hunters pointed out.
“Hardly sounds fair,” Vin commented, calmly.
A dark skinned man on the bounty hunters’ left rose to his feet. “Nope.“ His face was serious, the wrinkles on his face fading, his dark eyes announcing his intent. Nathan Jackson, too, was ready.
Buck walked down through the centre of the men. “Well, howdy, boys.” He stopped behind them, turned around and took a seat, his hand resting on his holster. Everything felt comfortable. Like they’d done this only yesterday.
The leader of the gang returned to his attention to Chris. “You stay out of this, old man. This ain't your fight.”
“Did he just call me an old man, J.D.?” Chris demanded, his voice echoing a twang it hadn’t had for the longest time. What could be described as a smile was on Larabee’s face, but only a brave man or a fool would call it such.
“I think he did, Mr. Larabee,” Dunne replied, appearing through a side door and moving into place.
“At least once,” Ezra stated from his table where he was still playing cards. His nimble hands stilled and he turned toward the threat facing his partners. Like Chris, the years disappeared and Ezra Standish was once again the young man who had first ridden into Four Corners.
Josiah pushed his chair back with a loud scraping sound and took a few steps to the right ensuring the Seven had their enemy surrounded. Josiah‘s hair had matured from silver to white, but he was still as big as an ox and equally as strong. “He hates that.”
“Did you just call me an old man?” Chris repeated, stepping forward.
The bounty hunters began glancing around, realizing they were surrounded. It was surreal. These old men had the drop on them!
“You decrepit mongrels won’t have a chance against us,” Callaghan claimed. “We’re...”
“Before you say anything else,” a well dressed man from across the room interrupted. “I feel someone should probably warn you who you’re facing. Oh, I’m Billy Travis, reporter for the local paper. That there is Chris Larabee. THE Chris Larabee.”
The bounty hunters began to twitch nervously. They had heard of Larabee. He had been the fastest gunfighter in these parts, but he was just an old man now... wasn’t he?
“Mr. Larabee, despite his obvious years, is still the fastest man on the draw I’ve ever seen,” Ezra added. “I would bet my life on it.” The bottom line was, that was exactly what he was doing. Then again, Ezra only bet on sure things.
“I suggest you consider your options before you make the mistake of taking on the fastest man who ever lived’,” J.D. warned. Chris had, and would always be, J.D.’s hero. The bowler hat was gone, replaced by a black cowboy hat that looked remarkably like Larabee’s.
“Of course, it’s up to you how you choose to leave this world, son,” Josiah preached.
“Should make a good story for the paper,” Billy reflected. “’The Magnificent Seven’ Defend Town Again.’ Or maybe, ‘The Legend Rides Again‘.”
“The Magnificent Seven?” one of the bounty hunters muttered. The words that had once incited terror in the hearts of those who lived only to cause trouble, resounded in the saloon. “Shit.”
“Did you just call me an old man?” Larabee growled.
“N-n-no. I was just saying that it ain't your fight,” the bounty hunter corrected, his eyes sweeping his opposition nervously. The seven men showed no fear. It wasn’t right. Old men shouldn’t be acting like that.
“Oh, but it is my fight,” Chris snarled.
“This man isn’t the one you’re looking for,” Nathan growled in a tone that could rip paint from walls.
“Yeah. Yeah, I can see that now. Tanner’s dead. I saw the grave,” Callaghan muttered.
“That’s right,” Buck encouraged, harshly.
“Now, drop the gun belt,” Chris ordered.
“What?”
Ezra and Buck rose to their feet. Nathan, Vin and J.D. withdrew their guns. The bounty hunters backed into a tight circle and shed their weapons.
“I reckon you boys should be leavin’,” Vin urged.
Buck stepped to the side and bowed ever so slightly. Four of the bounty hunters turned and raced off without looking back. The leader was going to do the same, but Buck stepped to block his path and inclined his head for the man to face Chris.
“Don’t come back,” the Seven’s leader growled.
The bounty hunter considered the words and swallowed. Part of him kept insisting they were just a bunch of old men, but another part knew they were far more than that. “It was only five hundred dollars. Not worth the fight,” he offered nervously. “You won’t see us again.” Chris rained the Larabee glare down on the hapless soul for several more seconds before his head bobbed once, a signal the man had his permission to leave. Callaghan tipped his hat, turned and exited the saloon like the hounds of hell were after him. Chris swallowed and released a slow, deep breath. He glanced to his right.
“Just like old times, Cowboy,” Tanner whispered.
Chris smiled. “Yeah.” That was exactly what it had been like. Chris felt alive. Old was a state of mind not a physical state.
The rest of the boys crossed the room, each grinning stupidly. “Now gentlemen, I am prepared to admit that I rather enjoyed that,” Ezra announced. Like Vin, Ezra had aged well. There were a few small creases around his eyes that acknowledged the passing of time, but otherwise, Ezra looked as he had when he had first entered Four Corners.
“Hell of a rush, boys,” Buck laughed, slapping Josiah on the back.
The eldest man in the group smiled like a Cheshire cat. “The lord was smiling on us today.”
“More likely laughing his damn head off,” Nathan murmured, joining his friends. Nathan was thinner these days, but still active in town, helping out those who couldn‘t afford to go to the qualified doctor.
Billy Travis stopped beside the table shaking his head. He had known these men all his life. “That was incredible. You guys are amazing.”
“It’s a gift,” Buck claimed.
“Chris, how about your join Sally and I for dinner tonight?” the young reporter invited. Chris wasn’t his father, but he’d filled that hole for Billy for many years.
Chris smiled his gratitude but shook his head. “Thanks, Billy, but I get the feeling it’s going to be a long night and the decrepit old bastard beside me is buying the drinks.”
Vin shot Chris a look of apparent disgust. “Age has softened your brain, old man. I ain‘t payin‘ for your drinks.”
“I’ll buy,” J.D. announced, racing off to collect them. The other men grabbed chairs and sat down, instantly beginning to relive the incident and the many other colourful ones that littered their past.
Billy watched them with great affection. Before long, the seven men who had started as strangers, become friends and now shared the bonds of brotherhood, were arguing like siblings. The years had weathered their exteriors but they were the same wild bunch who where prepared to defend those in need - the same men who would risk life and limb for each other no matter what the odds.
Billy moved across to the bar and bought a drink, his attention remaining on Chris and his friends. When he was a boy, he remembered Ezra telling him, “Legends like me never die, my dear boy. We just mature like a fine wine.” Never had a truer word been spoken.
“The Magnificent Seven,” Billy Travis whispered, quietly toasting the most amazing men he‘d ever known. “Your legend will never die.”
| 
