Pa Duty

the sequel to Adult Conversation by Setcheti

Disclaimer: Don’t own them, never have, never will.

Author’s Note: It’s a sequel, so the story won’t make any sense if you haven’t read Reborn and Adult Conversation.

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Chris rode back into town just in time to see it happen.

The gunslinger had run across Billy Travis and a few of the other boys from town out by the creek when he was heading back from patrol, and he had stopped for a little while to offer his advice on catching fish and frogs before heading on his way. The day was bright and hot, and he'd been thinking longingly of the shadowy interior of the saloon or even the stable as he rode. The weather had been dry and his horse kicked up clouds of dust with every step, so the bathhouse was sounding good to him as well. Maybe the bathhouse and then the saloon, after the stable...

The sight of a crowd gathering outside the saloon made him scowl. Great, just great. And none of the other lawmen must be around or else they'd be out there where he could see them, breaking up the forming crowd and making sure the fight didn't get out of hand. Oh wait, there was Buck, and wasn't that Ezra...

And that was when Chris realized what the crowd must have gathered to watch; it wasn’t every day they got to see a fight between two of the town’s lawmen. He spurred his horse forward, cursing himself for not having dealt with Buck's...problem already. The ladies' man's behavior had been degenerating ever since Chris had somehow been changed into a nine-year-old two weeks back, and it had only gotten worse once the gunslinger had been restored to his proper age. Especially since Chris hadn't quite been what the other men thought of as ‘himself’ since then. The experience, not just of being a boy again but of seeing his friends through a boy's eyes, had changed him. Gray Owl had asked that boy what sort of man he'd rather be than the hard-drinking, embittered gunslinger most of the rest of the Seven had seemed to want him to return to, and his answer had stuck with him. That unhappy gunslinger wasn't the man his mother had raised him to be, or the one she was proud of. In fact, that was a good part of the reason Chris had been so upset about the fabricated story Mary Travis had printed in her paper when he'd first arrived in Four Corners; he’d been afraid the false story would somehow get back to his mother.

And if Chris being a kid again had shaken up his friends…having his mother show up in Four Corners to give him what for would probably finish them off entirely. Not to mention providing the town with something to talk about for several weeks on end.

Chris was hoping that whatever Buck had started with Ezra didn’t cause more than a few days of talk. The fight hadn’t degenerated into out-and-out blows yet, probably because Ezra was holding back. Chris spurred the horse again; he knew Buck wouldn’t be holding back, at least not for long. The bigger man was toying with the gambler right now, just taking his frustrations out, but that could change any second.

That second passed before Chris was close enough to stop it. Buck suddenly shoved the gambler off the boardwalk...right into the path of an approaching wagon. How Ezra managed to avoid being run over Chris would never know, but after a moment of breathless, anticipatory silence the gambler staggered to his feet on the other side of the agitated horses pulling the wagon and just stared, his face white and green eyes wide with shock. Chris filed away for later consideration the fact that none of the townspeople present tried to help, or even offered him a hand up; another thing he was going to have to deal with, but later. For now what he needed to do was collar Buck before anything else could happen, or before the man could shoot off his mouth and make a bad situation worse. Chris stalked over to his oldest friend, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shoved him against a post. "You're drunk," he declared, knowing it wasn't true but needing the gathered crowd to think it was. "Ezra, you okay?"

The gambler seemed to be having some difficulty answering him at first, but then he pulled himself together and nodded. "Of...of course, Mr. Larabee. Ah am uninjured, ah was merely startled."

"Uh huh." Scared shitless was probably more like it, but Chris wasn't going to say so. "Do me a favor, go put Blackie up for me? I don’t want him standin’ around hot while I sober Buck up."

Another nod and Ezra was gone, taking the horse with him. Chris spread a scowl around the crowd that effectively broke most of it up, and then he used his hold on Buck to drag the ladies’ man off the boardwalk and down the street toward the jail. Another twisting of his fist in the flannel shirt choked off Buck’s attempt to jerk free of him. “Just give me an excuse to knock you on your ass,” he growled. “Right now I’d enjoy it waaay too much.”

Buck’s struggles didn’t stop, but they did degenerate from determined to halfhearted; backing down was his usual reaction when Chris was angry with him. “Chris…”

“Shut up.” And Buck did, again as usual. Chris pulled him inside the jail and kicked the door shut behind them, then tossed him in the direction of the nearest open cell. “Get in there.”

The ladies’ man did, and at a gesture from his friend pulled the cell door closed. “What’s goin’ on, Chris? I’m not drunk…”

“I know that. I just didn’t want to find out what that crowd would have done if they’d known that.” Chris locked the cell, tossed the keys through the bars so they landed on the cot. The implication that he was protecting Buck was obvious. “Were you actually trying to kill Ezra or did you just not give a damn if you did or not?”

Buck rolled his eyes. “Aw, I was just messin’ with him…”

“You’ve been doin’ that a lot lately,” the gunslinger interrupted. “Ever since two weeks ago when he tore into you because of the way you were treating me, isn’t that right?”

Instant denial. “I don’t know what that lying little bastard told you about what went on…”

“He didn’t have to tell me anything, I remember it.” Chris almost smiled – and not a nice one – at the reaction those words produced. “Yeah, Buck, I remember.”

“But you said…”

“I lied.” Chris shrugged, sitting on a corner of the desk and folding his arms across his chest. “Seemed the best way to handle things at the time, now I’m not so sure. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should have just not cared about making you boys uncomfortable, if attempted murder is the result of you bein’ left alone about it.”

Buck slowly sat down on the cot, not appearing to notice that he was sitting on the keys. “You remember…what, exactly?”

“I remember that you were one scary bastard – and if you don’t believe me, just ask Mary Travis about how bad you scared Billy. He’s still runnin’ across the street when he sees you.” Chris didn’t react when his oldest friend winced. “I remember that most of the other boys talked about me like I wasn’t even there, and that not a one of them stepped in to put a stop to your shit, Buck. Except for Ezra, of course, and you’ve sure made him pay for that one these past two weeks.” His blue-green eyes narrowed. “I’d asked him about it, and he said he was a grown man and he could take care of himself so I left it alone…but not anymore, not after today. I’m going to ask you again, Buck: Were you trying to kill him, or did you just not care?”

Buck scowled. “I already told you I was just messin’ with him, Chris. And Ezra can take care of himself.”

“I know that,” was the gunslinger’s response. “But that ain’t the same thing as him having to watch his back around the men he works with, and you know it – shit like that will set him packin’ his bags, it would any man.” Turquoise eyes narrowed. “Or maybe was that the idea?” Chris nodded when Buck flinched. “So are you gonna tell me what’s stuck in your craw, or are you gonna make me guess?”

Silence from Buck. Chris let him keep it, knowing it meant he was sorting out his thoughts – and knowing that even Buck might not know exactly what his problem had been, might just have been acting on his feelings without thinking them through. It was something the man had trouble with, living in the moment just a little too much, and it wouldn’t be the first time it had gotten him into trouble. Hell, it wouldn’t even have been the first time it had gotten him into trouble with Chris, for that matter…but it had never been this sort of trouble, it had never almost gotten somebody killed. Things had gotten out of hand.

Chris blamed himself for that. And now he was going to have to figure out how to fix the situation before it got any worse.

Nathan came in while the silence was still pregnant but not quite ready to give birth to anything. The healer looked from the gunslinger perched on the corner of the desk to the cowboy sitting despondently in the cell, and then his eyes went back to the gunslinger. “So what they’re sayin’ is true?”

Chris didn’t move. “Depends on what’s bein’ said, I guess – and on who’s sayin’ it.”

The healer took a harder look at the man in the cell, shook his head. “He don’t look drunk.”

“He’s not.” The gunslinger unfolded his arms, stood up. “But I wanted everyone to think he was, don’t want anyone to know any different, either. What’s goin’ on, Nate?”

Nathan shrugged. “Heard some talk, some folks sayin’ Buck here was drunk and fightin’ with Ezra and you dragged him in here to sober up. Heard you put Ezra in his place by sendin’ him to go take care of your horse. I saw him in the stable, so I guess that part’s true…”

“No, it ain’t.” Chris scowled and jerked a thumb at the cell with its thoughtful occupant. “This jackass here decided maybe he could solve whatever problem it is he’s been having by getting rid of Ezra for good.”

That stung Buck back into speech – and back to his feet. “Now you wait just a damned minute…”

“I was waitin’, until Nate came in. Now I’m done.” Chris turned a flinty look on him. “You figure yourself out yet, or do I need to keep guessin’?”

Buck wrapped his hands around the bars. “I wasn’t tryin’ to kill the little weasel and you know it.”

“I wish I did know it, but it sure as hell looked like that’s what you were up to,” Chris shot back. “I’d get Ezra in here and ask him, but he’s probably still too shook up to talk straight. Almost gettin’ killed by a man you ride with will do that to a person.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill him – wasn’t nothin’ like that in my mind!” Buck pushed back from the bars, his frustration showing. “I was just messin’ with him, I tell you.”

Nathan’s brown eyes had widened when Buck had gotten up off the cot and in doing so revealed the jail keys. He broke back into the conversation. “What do you mean Ezra couldn’t talk straight, Chris? He get hurt?”

“No – not that I saw, anyway.” The healer almost took a step back when those hard eyes fixed on him. “Buck pushed him off the boardwalk in front of a loaded wagon, it damn near ran him over. In fact, I still don’t know how it didn’t. I sent him to the livery with Blackie to give him a chance to get himself together, get him away from that damned crowd.” He grimaced. “Not a single one of them even tried to help him up off the ground. They were just there for the show.”

“Can’t say that surprises me.” The healer knew all about that, in fact, as he’d once been the show himself. The good people of Four Corners were not so good when it came to keeping the peace on their own, hence the need for seven gunslingers in a town that was barely large enough to require a single sheriff. “I’ll go check on Ez…”

Chris started to tell him no…and then he thought better of it. It wouldn’t hurt Ezra to know that another one of the men he rode with cared about what happened to him. “Tell him I’ll talk to him later,” he ordered the healer. “Like tonight in the saloon, over a game.”

Nathan’s eyes widened just slightly. Chris rarely played poker with Ezra, or with anyone else; he normally just sat in the saloon and watched people come and go, or talked with whichever of the Seven happened to be in there with him. The healer ventured a question – not the one he wanted to ask, but the one he thought was most likely to get answered. “You think he’ll be up to playin’ cards if he’s that shook up?”

“I certainly hope not, since I want to play chess,” was the surprising reply. “Get goin’ and check on him, Nate. I don’t want those rumors to hit the stables before you do.”

The healer saw the wisdom in that and left in a hurry – the good people of Four Corners were also not so good when it came to leaving well enough alone, and he could think of a few of them who might decide to entertain themselves by chewing over their version of events in the stables while Ezra was still there. Chris waited until Nathan was gone before returning his attention to Buck, but he let the silence stretch until the man started to fidget and then to get mad again. “Dammit, Chris! How long are we gonna sit and play this game of yours?”

“It’s your game, Buck,” Chris told him with a shrug. “I’d been watching, trying to figure out what I should do, but when you tried to kill Ezra you sort of made it my move.” He grabbed his oldest friend’s dark blue eyes with his own lighter ones and held them. His voice was low, but hard. “You tried to kill a man for protectin’ a kid, Buck. For protectin’ a kid from you, from whatever it was that got twisted around inside that head of yours because I was gone and you didn’t have anyone to do pa duty for you. You heard me, pa duty,” he emphasized when Buck started to object. “How many jealous husbands, Buck? How many of them didn’t come after your wife-stealing ass with a shotgun because they were afraid I’d be standin’ behind you? And how many of them were afraid of that because you told their women all about me before you had your fun?” His voice dripped disgust. “You made sure they knew you were runnin’ home to your big bad gunslinger Daddy, didn’t you?”

Buck had turned white. “You really think that of me?”

“I didn’t, until two weeks ago – and until half an hour ago I still wasn’t completely sold on the idea,” Chris replied. “Just drove you nuts, didn’t it? To see someone you thought of as nothin’ but a no-good conman looking out for the person who was supposed to be taking care of you? Ezra didn’t back down for your shit. He just jumped right in there and told you your daddy was gone and he wasn’t gonna let you look for him in nine-year-old me – and he made you see it, didn’t he? He made you see yourself, he made you see me, and you had to make sure he didn’t get the upper hand like that again.”

“I…” Buck couldn’t seem to find his voice. He sank back down on the cot, staring at Chris. “I didn’t…I’m not a killer, Chris.”

“No, but you almost crossed that line, didn’t you?” The gunslinger didn’t soften at the obvious retreat. “I’m not bailin’ you out again, Buck; this was the last time I save your sorry ass. Either grow up, or get out of town and don’t come back. Your choice.”

He’d only thought Buck was white before. “You want me to…”

“I want you to either start actin’ like a man or go act like a kid somewhere as far away from me as you can get,” Chris interrupted harshly, standing up. “I suggest you stay in there until morning, so you’ll have plenty of time to make up your mind which way you want to go.”

Buck got a strange look on his face, a dawning realization of something unpleasant. “Until morning…you just don’t want everyone to know I’m not drunk.”

“Damn straight I don’t – because I don’t know what they’d do if they did.” The gunslinger was unapologetic. “You didn’t hear what Nathan said? You tried to kill Ezra right in front of those people, and within five minutes the gossip had me pissed at him for it. What do you think those fine, upstanding citizens might do if they found out you weren’t drunk, Buck? I’ll tell you, I don’t want to find out – because it ain’t about him being a gambler, or a conman, or anything else; it’s about him not bein’ one of them. And none of the rest of us are either, and that thought right there should keep you awake nights, shouldn’t it?” He stalked up to the bars, his voice dropping to a hiss. “They would have watched you kill him, Buck, I saw it. And after him, who’d be next? This town has already almost let Nathan swing once, and him the only healer for twenty miles – they didn’t even back Mary when she tried to stop it. What if next time it’s Vin, or Josiah…or JD?” He didn’t stop when the other man flinched. “We have to watch each other’s backs if we’re gonna stay here, and that means the seven of us have got to be able to trust each other – because we for damned sure can’t trust anybody else. So if you decide to be the kind of man we can all trust, JD will let you out in the morning. If not, then when the sun comes up this cell will be empty and you’ll be on your way. To wherever.”

“What if I don’t go along with this shit at all?” Buck demanded, although a bit shakily. “What if I let myself out and just mosey on over to the saloon for a drink, what then? What are you gonna do about it, ‘Daddy’?”

Chris smiled. He’d seen that one coming, and he’d been prepared for it. “Did you forget that I knew your mama, Buck? Who she was…what she was?”

Buck shot to his feet. “My mama was a good woman, you son of a bitch!”

“Never said she wasn’t.” Chris was still smiling. “But she also wasn’t some poor little soiled dove like you’d like folks to believe either, now was she? I seem to recall she was the madam of the whorehouse you grew up in and damn proud of it, wasn’t she, Buck? And don’t I know that because that’s where I first met you, while I was paying a social call on one of your mama Miss Annabelle’s ‘girls’?”

The other man sank back down, shaking. “You wouldn’t tell nobody that.”

Chris shrugged and backed off, heading for the door. “Of course I would – but only if you decide to go for choice number three when I only gave you two. You’ve got the night to think it over, I’m gonna go have a talk with the rest of the boys before I meet Ezra and Nate at the saloon. Goodbye, Buck.”

Buck sat on the cot, staring after him, long after the door had closed and the sound of Chris Larabee’s firm, measured footsteps had faded into silence.