The Naked Truth
By Brate
"I have had it!"
Chris Larabee smirked as he listened to his friend's rant.
"I am sick of y'all taking m'clothes ev'r time I get hurt."
Nathan strove to pacify his patient. "It's the only way I have of keepin' you in line long enough to get better," the healer said.
"I'm fine."
"You ain't fine you stubborn mule, you was shot!"
"In the arm...and it was only a flesh wound."
"You lost a lot of blood," Jackson tried to reason.
"I got plenty of it," the patient countered.
"You're stayin'."
Vin Tanner paused as he pulled his boots on. "No, I ain't." He wrapped himself in a blanket, and walked over to the door of the clinic.
As he started to step out the door, the dark-skinned man called out, "That's my blanket and it stays here."
Without a word, the tracker dropped his covering. Now clad only in his "God-given" outfit and a pair of boots, he ambled down the stairs, and set out across the street. Seconds passed before the healer and gunslinger were released from their shock. They both raced to the landing to watch the spectacle. The unclothed sharpshooter seemed to be taking a leisurely stroll through the town on his way to the wagon that he called home, unconcerned about his state of undress.
Patty Lou fainted dead away at the sight of the naked regulator. Jan Mattlin covered her daughter, Cin's, eyes, while she herself avidly stared. From in front of the hotel, Deirdre and Kemmae looked away in disgust, and then looked back to make sure they didn't miss anything.
Shouts were heard, and two fellow regulators could be seen cheering. Buck and Ezra hooted and clapped as their exposed friend passed by. Young JD stood stunned, either from the audacity or the display. Josiah peeked out of the church and shook his head, chuckling at the arrogance of youth, before returning to his work.
By now the tracker had successfully reached his wagon and climbed inside. Within moments he emerged fully clothed, shooting a triumphant look at his best friend, still watching from above.
"Told ya I was fine!"
Shouts of agreement could be heard from many townswomen as he walked toward the Saloon. Stopping on the porch, Vin turned, tipping his hat toward his audience.
"Shy tracker, my ass," he mumbled, walking into the bar. "Mebbe next time you'll let me keep m'damn clothes."
The End
