Deception

by Esmeralda

A short time later, clothed in his customary garb, Vin sat, sullenly nursing a whiskey.

Chris related what had transpired to the others. It was agreed that Vin should ride out alone in the morning, dressed as 'Miss. Vine'. The rest of them would take up positions along the route, stationary so as to reduce the risk of accidently running into Brown.

Josiah addressed the tracker softly, "Are you okay with this, son?"

Vin lifted his gaze from his glass. "Guess I'll hafta be."

Chris winced at the tone of defeat in his friend's voice. He wished now that they'd found some other way to do this, but they'd gone too far and wasted too much time to put another plan into play. Besides, he had a feeling this would all be over soon. It had been a little over a week since Miss. McKindley's disappearance. Those unnatural urges would have to be wearing awful hard on Henry Brown by now. He didn't think the man would leave it much longer to act on them.

Seeing Vin was in no mood for company, the others melted away once the details were sorted. Only Chris stayed. He nudged the open whiskey bottle toward his friend.

Vin accepted it silently, pouring a shot, and knocking it back in one.

Chris sighed and rubbed his hand across his face.

"Don't say it," Vin hissed.

Chris lowered his hand and frowned. "What?"

"Don't say how sorry ya are. How much it pains ya to be makin' me do this."

Chris felt his hackles rise at the anger in Vin's tone. Did the young man believe he was getting some sort of twisted pleasure out of putting him through this? "Fine," he snarled.

"Fine," Vin snapped back.

They sat, staring into their respective glasses with mute hostility.

+ + + + + + +

Across the room, J.D. glanced up from his cards. "They seem awful tetchy with one another, don't you think?" He looked to the others for reassurance.

Buck smiled. "They're fine, son. Don't let it worry you none."

"I don't know." J.D. twisted round in his seat to look at the silent pair. "It looks like they've had a fallin' out." He turned back to the others worriedly. "What do you fellas think?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Dunne," Ezra drawled. "I do believe our esteemed leader and laconic tracker are finally on the brink of reaching a mutual understanding that may prove to be beneficial to all concerned."

Josiah chuckled. "Amen, brother. Amen."

"Huh?" J.D. made no attempt to hide his confusion.

Buck clipped him on the back of the head.

Ezra simply smirked. "Gentlemen, I believe this hand is mine." He lay down his cards.

Buck growled in disgust.

Josiah sighed resignedly.

J.D. scarcely noticed Ezra pocketing his winnings. He was still working through what the gambler had just said. An understanding? What kind of an understanding? He decided to press Buck for details later.

He'd always held the gunslinger and the tracker in a kind of awe. From that first day, when he'd witnessed them take on a dozen cowboys, he'd longed to be like them. He'd envied the special kinship they seemed to share. Even his friendship with Buck couldn't compare. Their ability to converse without words was downright eerie at times; the mere thought of them falling out left a cold, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"It'll be all right, kid."

Buck's soft words broke his reverie.

"Trust me. Those two'll be right as rain. You'll see."

Still troubled, J.D. nodded and returned his attention to the game, only to discover that Ezra had cleaned him out. "Dammit, Ezra," he moaned. "That was the last of my spendin' money."

"A man should never gamble what he cannot afford to lose," said Ezra sagely. "Isn't that so, Mr. Sanchez?"

It was Buck who answered. "Hmph, seems to me a man should never gamble with a slick, Southern-"

Ezra cut in before he could finish. "-Please, Mr. Willmington. Let us not descend into childish name calling. Why don't you lend young Mr. Dunne a little collateral and let us all play another hand. I am certain this time Mr. Dunne will find himself in Madame Fortune's favour."

"He'd better," Buck muttered.

Josiah smiled and shook his head. Either they bickered like children, he looked across the room, or they sulked like them. Fearless gunslingers indeed. His smile widened. "Deal me in, Ezra. I feel like Fortune might choose to grace me with her beautiful smile, too."

Ezra sighed and shuffled the deck. It really was no fun gambling with friends.

Chapter VIII

Mid morning the next day saw 'Miss. Vine' riding along the ridge above the river bed. Vin sat side-saddle, head down, the colour in his flushed face only partly due to the heat of humiliation. The rest stemmed from the near suffocating heat.

The sun burned high in a cloudless blue sky, and the dark blue dress drew the heat to his skin. Sweat trickled down his back, and the stiff cloth seemed to prickle and chafe even more than the day before.

Cursing under his breath, Vin took Peso slowly along the trail. Brown was right, this was pretty country, and on any other occasion Vin might have appreciated it. Today however, all he wanted was the cool, dark interior of a saloon and a sharp, cold glass of Inez' special cider.

His temper was further riled by Peso. The horse seemed equally uneasy with his master's new apparel and was playing up - shifting his feet and worrying his head back and forth, pulling on the reins. Vin's arms were beginning to ache from having to constantly steady him.

"God damn, stubborn mule. Quit that, 'fore I put a bullet in yer brain."

Peso failed to be impressed by this strange creature with his master's scent and voice. He continued to dance about, twisting his head, until finally Vin had enough.

He gathered his skirts and slid out of the saddle. "Fine, we'll both walk," he snapped.

This proved easier said than done. Confused by Vin's apparel, an undecided Peso seemed set upon a taste comparison. At first he just took to nibbling on Vin's hat, but when that failed to yield a conclusive result, he attempted to take a sizeable chunk out of Vin's shoulder.

Vin yelped, and swatted the horse across its nose. He barely held from shouting out a particularly unladylike curse. "That's it," he hissed. "Soon as we get back, I'm shootin' ya. Gonna get me a real horse, one that don't seem set on eatin' me." Strangely, this and the string of whispered threats that followed, settled Peso. The horse seemed to recognize his master's colourful turn of phrase.

However, it was too late to cool Vin's temper. Steaming, inside and out, he tugged Peso toward the river and began to make his way down.

Chris had expressly told him to stay up on the ridge. On the river bank he was effectively hidden from his six watchful guardians.

Vin didn't much care. He was hot, sticky and fed up. The dress chafed his neck and wrists. The bonnet seemed to steer the sweat into his eyes and the bodice crushed his chest, making every breath an effort. They'd refused to let him have his own saddle-bags, so he had no canteen. He wanted a drink, and to wash some of the damned sweat out of his eyes.

He released Peso's reins and left the capricious creature to find its own drinking spot. He knew he could trust the animal not to wander far. He made his way to the water's edge and crouched down. Scooping up a handful of water he splashed it into his face and sighed with happiness as the icy rivulets trickled down his skin.

Vin wiped his wet hand across his throat and forehead, then gathered up another handful and took a long, deep drink. Few watching would have noticed the tracker's sudden shift in demeanour - from relaxed to wary in a heartbeat. He knew instinctively someone was close by, and just as instinctively, he knew that 'someone' wasn't a friend.

Maintaining his preoccupied stance, Vin calmly scooped up another handful of water. As he did so, his eyes quickly scoured the river- bed for a possible weapon. He had his knife strapped to his calf, but he was reluctant to retrieve it, since doing so would alert his would- be-attacker.

Scooping up a fourth handful, he surreptitiously palmed a broken stone, running his finger along the rough edge to test its worthiness as a weapon. Without looking, he knew someone had started across the pebble strewn bank toward him. Vin wet his lips and willed himself to remain still until the last possible moment.

Damn, but this bastard could move soft. Vin could barely hear the faint crunch of pebbles as his attacker closed in.

//Wait, wait.// He chided himself silently. //Not yet, not yet.// The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened as a shiver snaked down his spine.

Vin waited until he could sense the man was almost upon him, then he turned with a yell - rock and fists at the ready.

Unfortunately, his usual alacrity was arrested by the swathe of cloth around his legs, and he found himself effectively hobbled as his skirts twisted round him. The rock that should have struck his attacker's jaw bounced harmlessly off the man's shoulder, while Vin met the knife hilt that should have struck the back of his head, just above his right temple.

He saw stars and pitched backwards. The sudden shock of the cold water stole the remaining air from his lungs and blackness descended.

He didn't hear his attacker's muffled curse. Nor did he see the man set aside the knife and hurry forward, dragging 'Miss. Vine' from the river before she could drown.

Vin was still more-or-less unconscious when the confused look crossed his attacker's face. He came-to when the man's meaty fingers poked his chest and touched his cheek, and bore witness the look of sudden stark rage that lit his attacker's features.

//Oh, shit.// was Vin's one coherent thought, as he realised the ruse was up. Weakly, he raised his arms and attempted to push Brown away. Robbed of their customary strength and cohesion, his limbs simply flailed uselessly before dropping back to his sides.

Vin continued to struggle as Brown's meaty hands closed around his throat and dragged him back to the water's edge. Stars again danced around his vision as the hands tightened, plunging him back into the river's icy embrace. He gasped and spluttered, trying to twist away.

Damp and heavy, the dress bound him as effectively as rope, while the blow to his head had robbed him of much of his strength; it wasn't long before he began to lose the struggle. The raw edge of panic welled up and his eyes widened as he drew the first gulp of water into his lungs.

At first it galvanised him into fighting harder. He didn't want to die like this, garbed as a woman, drowned in some pissant river. He pictured the others standing over his body, sending for the wagon to bring him back to town, people staring as they brought him in. Chris grieving.

//Chris// That one image cut through all the rest and cleared some of the shadows. Once again holding his breath, he made another desperate attempt to pry Brown's hands from around his throat.

He'd be damned if he was gonna leave his friends without putting up one hell of a fight. He'd waited too long for a place amongst his fellow men to surrender it so easily.

However, he was weakening, he could feel it. Lack of air and the icy water combined to sap his strength. The blow to his head had left him sick and dizzy; Vin was fighting to stay conscious as well as fighting to free himself. He tried yanking up his skirts to reach his knife, but Brown was kneeling on them.

Suddenly, Brown seemed to lose patience. Vin was clearly taking too long to drown. Keeping one hand around Vin's throat, Brown reached for his own knife.

The last thing Vin saw as the darkness closed around him was the glint of sunlight along a wicked looking blade.

Chapter IX

Chris sat motionless behind a gnarled tree; his eyes scanning the horizon for a familiar figure on horseback. His gut clenched when it remained empty. Damn that sorry son-of-a-bitch, just how long could it take a man to ride that stretch of ridge?

A scrabbling to his left brought him spinning round, gun cocked and ready.

"Dammit, Buck. I nearly blew your fool head off," he hissed.

Buck's expression was apologetic. "Sorry, pard, but I thought you'd like to know our young friend has taken a minor detour."

"What?"

"Yep, saw him steer ol' Peso down toward the river. Lost sight of him just 'fore he passed me."

Chris opened his mouth to unleash a string of curses concerning Goddam uppity trackers and their inability to follow simple instructions, when a muffled yell carried down the trail.

His gaze met Buck's and both men scrambled to their feet and hastened forward. On the crest of the ridge they encountered a worried looking J.D.

"Was that Vin?" he asked.

Chris didn't answer, but kept moving in the direction of the cry.

"Buck?"

"Yeah, kid, it was. Now keep your head down and your mouth closed. There's a murderer out there somewheres, in case you're forgettin'."

J.D. did as he was told and followed his friends.

+ + + + + + +

Chris's mouth ran dry as he moved along the ridge, trying to stay low. The cry had echoed off the slopes, making it nearly impossible to pin-point its origin. All he had to work from was Buck's last sighting of the tracker and his own gut instinct.

Vin was close, he knew it. He felt it. //Hold on, Cowboy. Hold on. We're coming.//

He strained to hear the sounds of a struggle, another cry, anything.

Chris felt the first threads of real fear tighten round his chest. Why had there only been the one cry? Why had it been cut short?

If Vin had gotten Brown, he'd have called to them. Which meant.....?

Chris refused to consider the alternatives. He finally reached the point where Buck had been stationed and turned downwards toward the river. As the brush thinned out and the water came into view he saw a figure crouched on the river bank. Too bulky to be Vin, Chris knew at once it had to be Brown. Then he saw the figure pinned beneath the larger man.

//Vin!// his heart cried. Why was the young man not moving?

Then his eye caught a glint of metal.

Chris fired before his mind had even registered the knife.

Two shots rang out almost simultaneously. Brown jerked and slumped forward.

Chris had fired once - fatally. He turned to see who'd fired the second shot. Buck was still clambering down the steep embankment, as was J.D. Chris's gaze narrowed as he looked up, squinting against the sun. On the crest of the ridge he spied a familiar silhouette, and had never been more grateful for the man's stubborn refusal to follow instructions.

Ezra raised two fingers in a brief salute and holstered his weapon. He had acted against Nathan's advice to stay in town and rest his leg. Now, assisted by Josiah, he began a less than graceful descent, determined to reach his friends.

Chris was already moving. Precious moments ticked by as he scrambled down the rest of the bank and ran to the river's edge. Without preamble he dragged aside Brown's body to reveal his friend's. His legs threatened to give way at the sight that greeted him.

Blood. He didn't think he had ever seen so much blood. It seemed to cover Vin from his soaked hair to his scuffed boots. Great clouds of it blossomed in the water, swirling away in the current. The young man's face was lost behind a mask of red.

Chris froze.

"Chris! Get him out the water. Chris! He's drownin'. Get him out!"

Buck's voice brought him out of his shocked inertia. Quickly he grabbed Vin's arms and began to pull him free of the river. Buck and J.D. joined him and within seconds Vin was laid out on the bank.

"Oh, God. Is he-?" J.D. didn't complete the sentence. His face was tight with panic.

Buck had knelt down and was trying to clear some of the blood from Vin's face. "Can't tell," he muttered. "Come on, Vin. Show ol' Bucklin you're still breathin'."

Chris felt himself sliding toward the shadows as the world spun around him. He was too late. Vin was dead. No one could lose that much blood and still be alive.

A hand reached out to steady him as his knees began to buckle. He was only vaguely aware of Ezra standing at his elbow.

"Good Lord!" the gambler exclaimed softly. "Is he-?"

"Why does everyone keep askin' me that," Buck snapped. "I don't know. I think he's still breathin', but it ain't by much."

//Breathing...He's still breathing.// The words reached Chris and he shook off the darkness that threatened to envelope him. "Nathan!" He yelled at the top of his voice. "Nathan! We need you here, dammit! Nathan!"

Chris dropped to the ground beside his friend and began to assist Buck in wiping away the blood. His jaw tightened as he touched Vin's skin; the cold seemed to seep into his fingers. "Nathan!" he shouted again.

"All right, I'm here. I'm here." Nathan's grumbling tone vanished as he beheld their fallen comrade. "Sweet Jesus," he murmured. "All right, give me room. I need to look."

Buck instantly fell back. Chris remained where he was. No one tried to move him.

"I...I don't think it's all his blood, Nathan." Buck pointed to the deep slash above Vin's temple. "That's the only cut I could find."

J.D. frowned and gazed back at Brown's body thoughtfully, while the others' attention was held by Nathan and Vin, he went over to it.

Brown lay, face down on the bank. J.D poked the corpse with his boot. He didn't harbour any doubts that the man was dead, he was just loathe to touch the body with his hands. "Josiah, would you--I mean, can you help me turn him over?"

Josiah glanced past him at the group huddled on the water's edge. He frowned, then looked back at J.D. and nodded. "Step aside, boy."

As the body rolled over a sputtering stream of blood shot into the air. "Ahh!" J.D. yelled, falling backward in his haste to avoid it.

With the exception of Chris, who's attention was riveted on Vin, the others all looked to J.D. and Josiah..

Josiah was peering at the source of the scarlet fountain.

"Bullet must have hit an artery," Nathan muttered, looking back at his patient. "I think you're right, Buck. Most of this blood ain't Vin's."

"So why's he unconscious?" Chris demanded.

Nathan frowned. "I'm not sure. His pulse is a little weak" Gentle fingers probed the jagged head wound. "He's taken a hell of a knock here, and-" suddenly Nathan's gaze snapped up. "Where was he?"

"What?" Buck asked, bewildered.

"When you got here, where was he?"

"Well, we dragged him outta the riv-" Buck was cut off by a string of expletives. The others stared, unused to such language from the healer.

"He's probably inhaled half the river!" Nathan exclaimed. "Help me turn him over. We have to get the water out of his lungs."

"Shit," Buck hissed, suddenly cottoning on to Nathan's meaning. How could he have forgotten - you had to get the water out of a man, or else he'd drown on dry land. He'd seen it happen before.

Chris was already rolling Vin onto his belly.

"Easy, easy," Nathan directed. "Watch his head." As soon as Vin was resting on his front, the healer crouched over him. With both hands he used a steady pushing motion on Vin's back to expel the water from his lungs.

Buck peered at Vin's face. Water dribbled from the lax mouth. "It's workin', keep at it Nathan."

Suddenly, the still body jerked violently and Vin began to cough and splutter, spewing out water. "Okay, turn him back over. Gentle now." Nathan instructed. They eased Vin onto his back, and the coughing gradually abated. Two bleary, blue eyes opened a crack.

"Vin!" J.D. exclaimed in delight, almost toppling onto Buck as he leaned forward.

Buck steadied him. "Easy, kid. Vin don't need your carcass droppin' on him."

"Vin? Vin, can you tell me? Do you have any other hurts 'sides your head?" Nathan asked.

Vin didn't answer. He had eyes and ears for only one man. "Hey, Cowboy," he murmured weakly. "'suppose you're gonna yell at me now?"

Chris's expression was a curious combination of anger and joy. "Maybe later. For now let's get you home. There'll be time enough to talk about hard of hearin' trackers who can't follow simple instructions."

"Followed 'em," Vin muttered. "Why else would I be in this stupid get up?" He lifted his head a little, coughed a couple of times, then looked down. He gave a loud groan.

The others all began talking at once:

"What? Where does it hurt?"

"Vin?"

"Mr Tanner, perhaps you should remain still."

"Easy, Cowboy. Just let Nathan see to you."

Vin weakly slapped the healer's hands away. "Don't need no seein' to, it ain't me that's done fer."

Chris frowned. "Then what-?"

"My dress," Vin groaned, fingering the ripped, wet and blood soaked garment. "Shit. Look at it."

The others stared at him; then Buck began to guffaw.

"Y-your..dress," he got out between bursts of laughter.

Even Chris smiled. "Sorry, Cowboy. I think you're right. The dress is done for."

The serious tone with which the gunslinger imparted this grave news set J.D. into hysterics, and soon all six were laughing, more from relief than anything.

Only Vin remained unamused. He glowered at his colleagues. "Oh that's right, laugh it up boys. It ain't you that's gotta look Mary in the eye when I give her back her mamma's dress." He continued grumbling until another bout of harsh coughing overtook him.

The others immediately snapped out of their merriment. "We've got to get him out of these wet things," Nathan instructed.

"Oh, no," Vin sputtered amidst coughs. "You ain't strippin' me out here."

"Brown's place is just down the track," J.D. suggested.

"No," said Vin with more emphasis. "I ain't going back there. I'm fine. Just get me up on my feet. I can ride back to town."

"Like that?" Ezra wondered aloud, taking in his friend's bloody and bedraggled appearance.

"I'm fine," Vin reiterated stubbornly, already trying to get to his feet.

Chris held him as another bout of coughs wracked the tracker's slender frame. "Ssh. Easy there, pard. I got ya."

When Vin finished coughing, Chris regarded him questioningly. //You sure you want to try that again, Cowboy?//

//Just get me on my damn feet.//

//Okay, but you let me do all the work.// Following the silent exchange, Chris gently eased the tracker to his feet, supporting Vin with an arm around his waist.

Once upright what little colour Vin had drained from his face. His legs shook, he swayed, and would have fallen if not for Chris.

Frowning, Nathan started forward. Chris shook his head lightly. He knew Vin, and he knew the young man would only accept their help once it had sunk in that he couldn't manage alone.

Vin took a step forward and closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness threatened to send him plunging back into the darkness. "Reckon I might need a hand gettin' to my horse," he murmured.

"Reckon you might," Chris agreed.

Vin opened his eyes and peered groggily at his friend.

//You gonna quit being such a stubborn bastard and let us help now ?//

//I guess I ain't got much choice.//

//Good. Then shut up and let us get you home.//

The silent exchange continued as Vin nodded and Chris began to steer the unsteady tracker toward his horse.

//You know you won't be able to stay in the saddle.//

//Just get me on my damn horse.//

//Nope. You can ride with me.//

//Fuck you.//

//You ride with me, or we send to town for the wagon.//

The others watched as the pair finally reached Peso's side and paused while Vin apparently weighed up a decision. After a moment, he gave a terse nod.

"Josiah, a hand here," Chris called.

Josiah wandered over.

"Hold him while I get up, then pass him to me," said Chris.

"Right you are, brother." Josiah wrapped a long arm around Vin's shoulders.

The younger man's glower was somewhat spoiled by another bout of coughing.

"Man's probably swallowed half the river," Nathan muttered.

"He'll be all right though, won't he, Nathan?"

Buck and Ezra waited on J.D.'s question.

Nathan looked at the three worried faces. "A man can get sick drinking river water if it's bad, you all know that. So God only knows what tryin' to breathe the damn stuff will do to him."

"River looks okay," Buck mused aloud.

"I'll get him back to the clinic, clean up that cut, and give him some medicine. He'll have to rest up some 'til I'm certain he ain't ailin' with anything else."

"'Rest up' ?" Ezra repeated. "Am I to surmise that you intend to corral Mr. Tanner in your clinic for the foreseeable future?"

"Corral's right," said Buck. "That boy's been gettin' itchy feet all week. He'll be wantin' to ride out as soon as you've patched him up."

"Well I reckon he'll just have to live with the disappointment," said Nathan flatly. "'Cos that man ain't goin' nowhere. Look at him. Man can't even sit on a horse without help." He drew their attention to where Josiah was currently lifting Vin up onto Chris's horse.

"Never stopped him before."

"Buck's right," said J.D. "You remember that time Vin was sick with fever? He tied himself to the saddle. Chris had to ride out and bring him back. Boy, was he ever mad."

"Perhaps our capable leader may also be called upon to contain Mr. Tanner on this occasion. I, for one, do not relish trying to tell our friend that he must remain within the confines of our quaint little town."

"Nope, he's just liable to shoot you, as not," said Buck.

"Well, he'll have to see reason for once," Nathan insisted. "I can't treat a man if he's roamin' 'round the wilderness. Chris'll just have to make him stay put."

"Chris is probably the only man who can," Buck agreed. "But I'm afraid he's carryin' a parcel of guilt for puttin' our compardre through this charade. He might be kinda reluctant to be tellin' our boy what to do."

"And just how guilty do you think he'll feel if he lets Vin take off and the damn fool comes down with a fever while he's out in them mountains?" Nathan asked.

"We can't leave it all to Chris," Buck decided, "but that boy'll stay put if I have to cuff him to the cot."

J.D. nodded his agreement.

Nathan rounded on Ezra, who sighed dramatically. "I will endeavour to do my part to keep our wayward companion from straying too far from the fold."

Satisfied, Nathan nodded, and the remaining seven went to retrieve their mounts.

Chapter X

On the hill outside town, Chris pulled his mount up and waited for the others to reach him. He and Vin had ridden a short distance ahead to afford the disgruntled tracker some privacy.

Buck approached, leading Peso. "Everything okay, pard?" He tried to see Vin, who lay against Chris's chest, looking for all the world like the lady he wasn't.

"Fine," Chris assured him. "I just want to check with Nathan if it's okay for me and Vin to head out to my place. We can get him settled there, and Nathan can bring his medicines out to the cabin."

"Shack," came a muffled voice from the vicinity of Chris's chest.

Chris scowled. "As I was sayin', Nathan can bring the things out to the cabin, along with a change of clothes for the little lady here."

Buck chuckled.

Vin snarled and struck out at Chris. The sudden movement startled Chris's horse, and initiated another round of coughing.

"Dammit!" Chris snarled. "Will you quit squirmin' around before you have us both in the dirt."

"Fuck you!" Vin wheezed. He hunched forward, his fist over his mouth as the coughs shook his body.

Buck's amused look faded. "Are you sure he wouldn't be better at the clinic? He sounds pretty bad."

"I"-cough-"ain't"-cough-"deaf"-cough-"Buck."

"Stop trying to talk," said Chris. "It only makes it worse."

"Fu-"cough-"you."

Chris felt his headache coming back. He was worried, wet, and cold - thanks to the shivering form pressed tight against him. He'd reluctantly agreed to his friend's pleas to go out to his place instead of into town, but he was already beginning to rethink the wisdom of that decision.

Vin was never an easy patient. It simply wasn't in his nature to lie still and be fussed over. This time promised to be no better. Vin wasn't sick enough to submit to Nathan's doctoring, and he'd been in a fine temper for days - ever since this idiotic plan had been put into action. On top of that it was a little over a week since he'd been able to go off on his own.

Chris knew Vin was starting to feel the shackles of civilisation chafing at him, and like all trapped wild things, he'd gnaw through his own leg to escape if need be. Chris had no intention of letting Vin wander off alone right now. The result was a compromise; his place wasn't as crowded as town and he'd be able to keep an eye on the younger man's condition.

Buck called back to Nathan, and the healer came trotting up on his big bay.

"What's the matter? Is he-"

"I'm fine," Vin growled.

Chris ignored him. "He doesn't feel feverish, Nathan. Just cold and wet. Can you see to him out at my place?"

"Your place?" Nathan frowned. "I don't know, he's coughin' awful bad."

"No"-"cough"-"I"-cough-"ain't"-cough.

Chris willed Nathan to understand.

The healer did, but he was reluctant to let his patient so far out of sight, but better Chris's place than up in the mountains alone. "All right," he agreed. "I'll get my things and join you. On one condition." He moved his mount forward slightly, so he could look Vin in the eye. "You stay put until I say otherwise."

Vin opened his mouth to object, but Chris cut in.

"You have his word." He nudged the figure on his lap. "Don't he?"

"I guess," Vin muttered sullenly.

"Say it," said Chris.

Vin glared at him through wet bangs.

"We're waitin'."

"All right," Vin snapped. "I give ya my damn word."

"To stay put," Chris clarified.

"To stay put," Vin snarled. "I promise to stay put. Now can we git? All this jawin' is givin' me a headache."

Nathan pounced. "You've got a headache?"

Vin rolled his eyes.

"He's fine," Chris stated firmly. "Just wet and miserable is all."

"Yeah," Buck offered with a sly grin, "the boy ain't much for bathin'."

"I bathe."

"Never seen you in the bathhouse."

"I"-cough-"bathe", Vin repeated. "Just cos I don't care to be doin' it in"-cough-"public."-cough

"He claims he goes down to the creek," Chris supplied.

Buck's sly grin widened. "Well, that's mighty interestin'. You know it's a risky venture, this bathin' in the great wide outdoors. A man could put his clothes down and then forget where he put 'em."

"My clothes go missin'"-cough-"I know who I'm lookin' to shoot'"- cough.

"For God's sake, go before he coughs up a lung," said Nathan.

Chris grinned, took his horse back from Buck, and turned toward home.

+ + + + + + +

It was only a short ride to Chris's homestead, but by the time they reached it, Vin was shivering so hard his teeth were rattling. Blood continued to ooze sluggishly from the cut above his temple, and his normally tanned skin seemed grey.

Concerned, Chris left the horses and hurried his friend inside. Vin had stopped complaining - another worrying sign - and he allowed himself to be assisted over to the bed.

"Best get out of them wet things," Chris instructed. "I'll dig out some blankets. You can wrap yourself in them until Nathan makes it back with your clothes."

He left Vin to fetch the blankets. When he returned the tracker was struggling to undress himself. "Here," Chris offered, "let me give you a hand." Vin accepted his assistance wordlessly.

The dress was soaked through with blood and water. Chris had to peel the cloth from Vin's chilled skin. Knowing his friend had to be embarrassed, Chris tried to be matter-of-fact about it. It wasn't easy. Even half-drowned and spattered with blood, Vin was a sore test of his willpower.

It got worse. Vin was shivering so violently he was barely staying upright, and Chris was obliged to remove the sodden underwear beneath the ruined dress.

He'd seen Vin partially clothed before, usually when Nathan was patching the tracker up. Brief, tantalizing glimpses of golden flesh and whipcord muscle. Images that had tormented him, awake and asleep. Now he was confronted with the completed vision; smooth, honey- coloured skin, long, slender limbs, and a lean, defined torso.

Chris bit his lip to withhold a groan as the wild imagining of his dreams became a reality. As it burned itself irretrievably into his memory, he reluctantly held out a blanket.

Vin nearly snatched it from him. The tracker quickly covered himself and stood, swaying slightly, a half-wild thing poised to flee.

Chris tore his eyes away from temptation, and lifted them to meet his friend's. What he saw in that wide blue gaze destroyed all his unborn hopes.

Fear, fear and apprehension.

"Sit," he snapped, "I'll see to the horses." Chris turned, and in doing so, missed the half-hurt, half-confused look that passed across Vin's face.

+ + + + + + +

Chris stormed outside, hands clenched, cursing his own carelessness. Hell, he'd been caught ogling like some lovesick kid. Still, he mused bitterly, it could have been worse. It could have been disgust, or pity, pouring out from that clear gaze. Or he could be laid out on the floor right now, nursing a broken jaw.

He almost wished Vin had hit him. It would be easier to bear than this slow burning humiliation, and the question remained - what to do now? Should he apologise? Pretend nothing had happened? Hope that Vin thought he'd been mistaken?

Chris finished unsaddling the horses and slumped against the stable wall. He sank to his haunches and lowered his head into his hands. He had to do something. He wouldn't let this destroy the one thing that kept him sane: the friendship of a man who held the other half of his soul.

Continue

Comments to: Cerwyd@hotmail.com