Blood on Blood

by Deirdre

Follows A Shining Place Called Hope

Part One

Blood on blood One on one
We'd still be standing
When all is said and done
Blood on blood One on one
And I'll be here for you
Till Kingdom come
Blood on blood
- Blood on Blood by Bon Jovi

Wednesday, Twilight
Paso Del Norte, New Mexico

The sun was just beginning to set when Chris Larabee rode into town. He had been delayed coming from the ranch. It was hard to believe it had been a year already since he, Buck and Vin had bought the spacious but run down spread. With a lot of sweat and a little luck, they'd refurbished it and built a barn and broadened the corral. Ezra invested in their enterprise and Josiah and J.D. helped out when they could. Vin named it Hope Ranch, for it was the essence of what they gave the abused horses they rescued — hope for a new life.

He, Buck and Vin were spending increasingly more time out there working with abandoned and abused horses. Vin had a real gift that way, the animals trusted him and whether it was the soft Indian dialect he used or his touch, it worked. Buck and Vin had taken three of the horses they just finished healing to Grovers Pass. There was a horse auction there over the weekend and they would get top dollar for the trio. Chris remained at the ranch waiting on Tom Davis, a nearby rancher who was interesting in buying the remaining two horses that were ready for market.

Chris paused outside the saloon and observed the busy drinkery. Tessie, their local nightingale, was perched on top of the loud piano singing a raunchy song. Peanut shells were strewn on the floor and the scent of beer, smoke and male sweat permeated the place. Most of the tables were full and he noticed that Ezra Standish was already busy fleecing some poor trio of unsuspecting strangers out of their money. He caught the gambler's eye and got a nod and hint of a gold tooth in the sly grin that came back. Josiah was huddled under a curtain of cigar smoke winking and gesturing boldly at Tessie. He didn't see J.D. and suspected maybe the young sheriff was on rounds or possibly visiting Casey. He heard Buck before he saw him, a ghost of a smile appeared when he followed his ears to where the town's resident ladies man was already waist deep in females.

"Aw, come on, darlin, didn't you miss Old Buck?" Wilmington oozed, pausing to kiss the pretty redhead perched his left leg. On the other leg was a very busty blonde who already had one hand snaking inside Buck's newly unbuttoned shirt. "I know you missed me, didn't you Sadie?" He asked the 'shy' blonde who replied with a rather messy kiss. He kissed back hard, using his talented tongue like a weapon. Breathless, they finally parted and with a sly wink to his oldest friend, and one arm around each comely maiden, he walked towards the batwing doors, seeking the girl's rooms across the street.

"God love Buck," Chris mumbled, stepping inside.

"She sure as hell does!" Buck called back with a laugh.

Chris wrinkled his nose when the stench of an extremely large man facing the bar wafted over. He was dirty and appeared as if living in the wild for awhile. Needing to get away from the smell, he turned left.

His eyes went around the crowded, smokey room until they found Vin Tanner. The lanky Texan was at a small table in the back nursing a beer. The infamous slouch hat was pulled down over his face. It didn't obscure the sky eyes, which were trained on Inez Recillos. The manager of the prosperous tavern was on a stepstool, reaching for an overhead shelf. The motion of her body caused her firm breasts to strain against the low white cotton peasant blouse. Larabee didn't miss the heat in Tanner's gaze. It was just another of the many clues the former bounty hunter had left in the last few weeks since Don Paulo's arrival and subsequent death.

The cruel and spoiled son of a wealthy Mexican family had sought out the pretty bartender for immoral purposes. Buck had dueled with a sword to defend her honor, but Vin had taken it upon himself to become her bodyguard. As grateful as Inez was for Buck shedding blood on her behalf, she kindly made it known to him that she had no feelings for him. But Chris didn't miss the stolen glances that Inez gave Vin when he wasn't looking. It was clear to him that each of the attractive pair had feelings for each other that needed to be explored. Apparently, someone had to point one of them in the right direction first.

Vin heard the batwing doors hit each other and glanced over when the familiar footsteps of his best friend sounded. He allowed himself a few extra moments to paint a picture of Inez before averting his eyes. It was becoming difficult to be around her without his body heat rising and his pants shrinking. When she talked to him or one of the others close by, he couldn't always hear what she was saying because he wanted to taste those inviting lips and plunder her mouth. He sighed hard, shook his head and reached for his beer.

Chris took the empty seat next to Vin who nodded at him. Chris caught Inez's eye and held one finger up than pointed to Vin's beer. He inquired on the trip to Grovers Pass. "How'd it go?"

"Good," Vin replied, sitting up and shoving his hat back. "They're expectin' a crowd. After the feller in charge takes his cut, he reckons we can git over five hunert fer 'em."

"That's good, we can use it. We need to put a new roof on and maybe expand a bit." Chris pulled a paper from his pocket. "With the wire we got yesterday and the two tips that JD brought in, we have seven horses to check out. They're in three different areas. We can't be everywhere."

"Well," Vin thought aloud, "I guess we could put up a bunkhouse o'sorts. Maybe hire on a few men to work with the horses. But one o'us should be there."

Chris turned a bit when Vin because silent when Inez approached with his beer. He saw the lean body shift twice in his chair and crease his brow in discomfort. That brought a grin and soft chuckle.

"Thanks Inez," he slipped a piece of silver into her hand.

"You are welcome," she answered, her eyes riveted to Vin Tanner's handsome face. "Senor Vin? Is there anything I can do for you?"

Vin had the misfortune of having a mouthful of beer at the time and nearly choked. This caused a great deal of sputtering and his face turned red. If he wasn't trying so hard to regain his breath and composure, he'd have shot Larabee who laughed outright. He glared at Chris and shook his head.

"I will be close by, if you need anything," she offered huskily, casting a sly smile.

Chris sat forward, took a sip of beer and shook his blond head in confusion. "Why don't you just tell her?"

"Tell 'er what?" Vin rasped, finally getting his breath back. He swiped the foam from his lip and tried to study the grain in the wood on the table. He was still thinking of her tanned curves when he stroked the glass mug.

"I'm not that blind, Vin," Chris offered, "She's a fine woman; she's smart, pretty and she can handle herself." He saw Vin shift again and tug his hat down. "That damn hat of yours isn't gonna fix that fire."

"'m'fine."

"Yeah," Chris scoffed, taking a long sip and watching Vin's eyes fighting hard not to follow Inez's swaying hips as they moved towards the kitchen. "That's why are you've been jumpier than a frog in a fryin' pan. She likes you Vin, she's givin' you the same hot stares when you're not looking. Monday when you were fixing the sign over the Post and Telegraph, she had her eyes all over your ass."

That got the tracker's attention. He sat up and stared at Chris as if he'd sprung a second head. For a moment, he looked like a sixteen year old kid with his first crush. The eyes went wide with hope and wonder, then just as quickly, it was gone. Vin shook his head and studied the table again.

"What are you so afraid of? Ask her to have dinner, or just go for a walk. Hell, she's a great cook, she'd probably make a basket full of shit just to fatten you up some." Larabee drank in the silent contemplation he got for a reply and fed on it. "You can take it slow, Vin, it's not a race. But it might lead to something."

"Yeah, like that could happen," Vin mumbled.

"Why not?" Chris pressed, studying the handsome profile next to him. Vin's fair good looks complimented Inez's olive complexion and dark eyes perfectly. Her fiery outgoing personality was a good match for Vin's more introspective one.

"Someone as fine as her," Vin answered, his heart skipping a beat when she re-entered the room and tossed her dark head back, sending that silky hair over her shoulder, "with the likes o'me, ain't likely."

"Don't sell yourself short,Vin. Why not you?" Chris was adament now, using a strong tone. He hated it when Vin underestimated himself like this. There was no finer man wearing boots, not in Chris Larabee's book.

"Well, aside from the price on m'head," Vin began only to be interrupted by a loud voice that shook the rafters.

"YA AIN'T GONNA HIDE FROM ME NOW YA YELLA-BELLIED, SON-OF-A-BITCH. I'M GONNA CLEAN YER PLOW!"

The huge man at the bar finally looked up from his meal and saw who was in the room. Fate sent him into this town and he wouldn't waste her gift.

"Friend o'yers?" Vin drawled, put his beer down and eased his body forward. It took Chris a few moments until he recognized the huge, hulking man. Close to seven inches above six feet and about three hundred pounds, with shoulder length dark hair and black eyes, he wasn't someone you easily forgot.

"Shit," Chris swore when the manbeast plowed through the room, scattering the men Ezra was playing cards with and tossing the scrambling Southerner over the bar as if he was an annoying fly.

"Who the hell is he?" Vin asked, ducking when a chair was thrown their way.

"Gideon Hawkes," Chris answered, picking up a broken chair leg and and readying his stance . "I tangled with him a couple years ago. Him and his brother raped a prostitute and carved her up, she bled to death in my arms. I hunted them down."

"Ya took care o'the brother?" Vin guessed and the blond head bobbed once as the hulking body loomed over them.

"YA KILLED MY BROTHER AND I AIM CUT CUT YER HIDE OPEN AND EAT YER KIDNEYS."

"White wine or red?" Josiah asked, hitting the huge man with a chair.

"That's not good," Chris said when with a single fist, Josiah was felled like a log. Hawkes had his back turned, so Chris tried to tackle the brute from behind with Vin providing a frontal assualt, but their teamwork was short lived.

Hawkes turned and grabbed Larabee with his left arm and swung around using him like a club to hit the long-haired young man in buckskins. Both went crashing to the floor.

"He's fixin' on fightin' a rattler and givin' the first bite," Vin touted of the enraged bear. He and Chris untangled their limbs and split up.

Chris hit Hawkes with the chair leg, splitting the wood over his head and sending a shower of splinters raining down. His reply was a animalistic snarl and a fist to the face. He saw stars as he flew backwards and hit the wall hard. The brutal force shook his whole body; he felt as if he'd been hit by a train. Larabee shook his head and tried to stand up but his legs weren't working right. His vision seemed distorted and he saw Vin pick up a spitoon and nail Hawke's head. With a growl, the mountain man turned and backhanded Vin to the face visciously. The tracker seemed stunned for a moment but hit back, getting two punches to the barrelesque gut. Chris found his legs and staggered badly, not quite sure of how to get across the room.

Vin was still reeling from the harsh blow when Hawkes punched him in the stomach. It took all his air away and he panicked momentarily, unable to breathe. Open-mouthed, he sucked hard but no air entered his lungs. He was doubled over and never saw the mighty upward blow that sent him flying backwards. He landed in a small corner between a short wall and the potbellied stove.

Chris's hand went to his hip but his gun wasn't there. He eyed the floor in slow motion, annoyed that his brain was so foggy. The colt must have come loose when hit the wall. He saw Josiah struggling to stay on his hands and knees, shaking his graying head and trying to rise. Most of the other patrons had scattered, leaving the saloon as fast as they could. Hoping to catch him off guard and knock him down, he used his head and rammed into Hawke's side. Hitting in the area between the ribs and hip did stagger the lout. Just the effort of that sent Chris to his knees.

Hawkes grunted and swung around, finding his dazed and bleeding target kneeling before him like a trophy. He used his fists like twin clubs, driving into the blond man's face and gut. Larabee fell forward like a ragdoll and the beast grabbed him by the back of his collar and belt and lifted him overhead. He growled and roared, spinning around and throwing the prey over the bar and into the mirror. It shattered on him as he fell.

The assassin grabbed an almost empty bottle of whiskey and drained it, then broke the neck off. With the jagged edges glistening, he walked around the bar and saw the unconcscious Larabee. He used his free hand to rip the gunslinger's shirt open exposing his chest. He tipped the slack jaw and wondered whether to slash his throat first or gut him from the navel up. He put the jagged bottle down and got his trapper's knife from the hilt on his massive waist. He slipped it under the lean prisoner's waist, popping three of the buttons over Larabee's manhood. That brought an evil leer. Maybe he should cut his balls off and dangle them in front of him. He ran the flat edge of the knife from Larabee's groin up his chest and towards his left nipple. He could pop it off like a cherry. But, he wanted the bastard who killed his brother to look at him when he took his life. He spotted a pot which he thought was water and grabbed it, pouring if on the victim's chest.

The hot coffee hitting his skin roused Chris from his stuperous state. His whole body was radiating pain, his skull was screaming, his ribs were throbbing and his chest burned like the devil. He knew the wetness covering his face was blood from that stinging place on his scalp. He was in too much pain to move, just breathing nearly had him passing out. He saw a large knife appear before his eyes and the tip was used to turn his face. On the other end of the massive arm that held the knife was the ugliest face he'd ever seen.

"Ya ain't the hero now, are ya?" Hawkes tossed back along with a large wad of spit. He laughed when the greenish much ran down Larabee's cheek. "Ya ain't even squirmin'. That whore fought back, even after I cut the little nibs of her titties off..." He decided he would cut Larabee's balls first and moved, ripping the rest of the fabric that separated him from what he sought. Chris Larabee knew by the life he led, he might die early. He could accept being on the wrong side of a bullet or knife, but he'd be damned if he was going to be carved up on a barroom floor. His vision was blurred badly but he felt Hawkes move off him and one hand snake down between his legs. Chris moved his hand on the floor, his fingers felt like sausages and he had a hard time feeling anything. The first thing he groped was something metallic. He didn't know what it was, but curled his fingers around it.

Hawkes had what he needed in one hand and the large knife in the other. Larabee wasn't looking at him, that had to be fixed. So he leaned over to address his bloodied offering, pushing the tip of the knife into the hollow area under the right collarbone to get the blond's attention.

"HEY!"

Chris gasped in pain when blade pierced his skin, then he used what strength he had left to jam the metal thing in his hand into the blurry face above him.

With a fierce growl, Hawkes sat up and pulled a corkscrew out of his eye. His body didn't react right away and he stared in amazement at his eyeball, speared on the end. Blood ran freely down his ugly face and with a scream of rage, he yanked Larabee's head back by the hair and exposed the buldging veins in his neck. He arced the knife back, intending on hacking off the semi-conscious man's head.

"YER GOIN' T"HELL NOW!"

"I do not think so!"

Those were the last words Gideon Hawkes heard. Standing behind Larabee holding a shotgun was a very pretty Mexican woman. He heard the shot but never felt the bullet that took most of his face off.

"I need some help!" Inez screamed, eyeing the empty room. "Josiah! Ezra!" She called to the first two bodies she saw nearby. She'd been downstairs getting some whiskey from the cellar when she heard the commotion. She saw the huge man beating Chris and ran to the kitchen to get her shotgun. She was glad it was loaded, the extra time it would have taken to put bullets in it would have been too late to save her friend.

"Good Lord!" Ezra gasped, swiping blood absentmindedly from a cut on his eyebrow.

With great difficulty and help from Inez, he shoved the corpse away and knelt on the other side of their leader. His hand slipped on the bloody chest exposed but he found a good pulse.

"Is he alive?" Inez fretted, "Please, I was not too late?"

"He's alive," Ezra answered, eyeing the carnage. Chris was bleeding from two cuts on his head and one under his collarbone. He was burned on the left side and the ragged breathing told him ribs were injured. What other damage had the beast done? "We need to get him to Nathan's."

"Hold on, brother," Josiah croaked, taking a moment to douse his face with ice water from a pitcher on the bar before going behind it. "You get his legs. Easy now, his back might be hurt."

"Perhaps then we shouldn't move him. Maybe Nathan should examine him here," the conman suggested.

"How about a board?" Inez asked. "In Mexico, the army use boards with handles to carry the wounded."

"A capital idea, my dear," Standish noted and stood, eyeing the new delivery outside the Merchantile. "I'll get what we require, you might want to compress those wounds."

"Si... si..." she answered, not sure where to start. "So much blood..."

"That's a nasty one." The preacher nodded to the area on Chris's hairline on the right. He handed her a cloth. "Press hard. I'll clean his face up and see what else there is."

"What happened, Josiah?" She asked, worried when the blood seeped through the cloth. She grabbed another one and used it to press against the cut on his collarbone.

"Not sure. Somethin' set that animal off." The large man gently wiped Chris's face with a wet cloth. "He sure is gonna look pretty." The left eye was swelling and his face was bruising. "Brother Chris does have his share of enemies. "

They both turned when Ezra's voice was heard.

"Over here," Ezra commanded of two clerks from the merchantile. They'd taken a a long shutter that was to be installed in the hotel an carried it over. "Be careful, his back may be damaged. How is he?"

"Bleedin' like a stuck pig," Josiah commented, moving so the small Standish could get by. Carefully they lifted the bloodied body onto the makeshift stretcher. "Aaron, you run ahead and get Nathan updated. Teddy, you find JD and get the body to the undertaker."

They had Chris loaded and were carrying him through the room when Standish halted, nearly toppling their victim.

"Ezra!" Josiah growled, watching the Southerner's eyes roaming around the room. "What?"

"Where is Mister Tanner?"

"Oh no!" Inez moaned, her hand going to her throat. Her frantic eyes went all over the room. "Vin! Vin!" Then she saw some uncurled fingers showing from behind the wall across the room. "No... no..."

"Take it easy, Inez," Josiah called out and he and Ezra put the stretcher down on top of one of the few tables that remained upright. They both followed her to the small corner. It was a very tight area and they stared amazed that Vin could fit in it along with the stove.

"How on earth did he fall like that?" Ezra asked, bending down and gently moving Vin's legs until they were turned and flat on the floor. He then pulled Vin up by the collar and tugged. With three careful efforts, the pinned body was eased out of the tiny area. The long-haired man's head lolled against his chest.

"You two make a real pretty couple," Josiah teased of the intimate way in which Ezra now held Vin.

"You left your humor on the floor," Standish drolled, easing Vin down "It's a miracle he wasn't burned. Aside from a swelling jaw and a few cuts, he is unmarred."

"Looks like Nathan will have a full house," Josiah asked as a semi-naked body ran into the room. "Evenin' Buck." He cast a wary eye at the hastily pulled on long johns. The semi-open front panel of which revealed that their resident womanizer had heeded the call to arms while in action.

"As usual, Buck, your timing is impeccable." Ezra just shook his head at the handsome man whose neck and check were already bearing the marks of his trade.

"What the hell happened?" Buck asked, buttoning his longjohns and halting his wayward journey next to Chris. He tapped the bloody face and his heart sank. "Chris? Come on buddy, open your eyes."

"Not likely," Ezra commented, rising and walking over. "He suffered a beating, stabbing, was burned and nearly castrated. He will require much of Nathan's evening."

"You two take Chris, I'll bring Vin," Josiah offered.

"You can't!" Buck answered, eyeing the Texan's limp body. "How bad?"

"No holes, just a few cuts and a sore jaw. He got in the way of that monster's fist." Josiah answered.

"I heard a gunshot..." Buck asked, "Who..."

"Behind the bar," Sanchez replied. "Somebody looking for Chris. He was ready to cut Chris's head off and Inez shot him."

"Why can't we take Vin to Nathan?" Inez asked Buck who was peering over the bar.

"Nice shot!"" Buck praised, turning back to the others. "Because Jake Hamilton is up there. He might be dyin', Nathan's not sure what's wrong. Could be his heart. Poor old guy collapsed this morning in the street. He's been with him all day."

"Well, I suppose we could put Mister Tanner in his room. " Ezra thought on the boarding house down the street. "It would be nice for it to get some use."

"No, he is hurt and we cannot lose any more time. Chris needs help," Inez answered, her heart beating a bit more when she looked at him lying helpless on the floor. "Josiah, put Vin in my room in the back. I will tend to him."

"Sounds like a plan," the preacher agreed. "You two get Chris to Nathan. After I take care of Vin, I'll get some help and get the body down the street."

Inez moved ahead of Josiah towards her room. She pulled the quilt back and stood back when Josiah placed Vin on the bed.

Josiah sat Vin up and supported him, frowning at the sweaty body. "He's burning up. He was too close to that fire. Get his coat off, Inez. We have to cool him down a little."

"Alright," she agreed, getting his left arm out first and then the right. She folded the coat and put in on the bench at the foot of the bed. "He's soaked..."

"Shirt too," Josiah said and noticed her fingers trembling as they fumbled with the buttons.

He hid a smile then. He knew that Inez was sweet on Vin and that the tracker was also smitten. Finally, she got the last button undone and peeled his shirt off. He gently laid Vin back and got his boots off. He pulled the quilt up to his waist and then examined the small cut on the top of Vin's cheek. It wasn't serious. But his eye was swelling and his entire jaw was bruised and swelling. He ran his expert hands over the ribs and Vin cried out, his face distressed.

"Bruised... not broken. He'll be sore." He rose then, leaving his young charge in the care of a tender nurse. She had filled a basin with water, placed it on the bedstand and was sitting on the bed next to him. Her hand was shaking a bit when it used the soft, wet cloth to wipe his face. "You okay?"

"Si... go and check on Senor Chris, I am fine, " she lied, her insides turning to jelly.

It wasn't until Josiah left that she exhaled sharply and dropped the rag. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt sure it was going to pop through her chest. She brushed the stray locks of wavy brown hair from his face and rested her palm against his bruised cheek. Her heart fluttered and she gasped as if she touched a flame. Seeking comfort in his unconscious state, he moaned and turned his face, pressing it into her palm. Her eyes drank in every feature on his face greedily, she nearly drowned in the rapture of it.

He was beautiful.

She moved her finger over his jaw and across his lips. That caused her to shudder and gasp. She ran her hand down the hot bronzed flesh on his chest and felt her own body heat up. She shook her head to clear it and thought on the job she had to do. She wrung out the cloth and wiped his face, then moved the cotton down his neck and chest. Her fingers massaged the cold cloth into the firm skin, causing him to moan . Whether it was in pleasure or pain, she couldn't tell. Finally, satisfied that his body was cooling down, she pulled the quilt up. His face was still flushed. Was it a fever? Was he sick?

"There is one way best to check for fever," she rasped huskily and bent down, brusing her lips to his forehead. The warmth that met her lips caused a spark inside to flare up. She trace her finger on those sensual lips again and they parted. There it was, right before her, an open invite. Not able to help herself, she bent down and kissed him softly. She pulled back when he moaned and then grinned in guilt when he smiled in his sleep. She needed more and kissed him again, getting another sigh of contenment from her patient. She sat up then, pulling the quilt up and brushing her hands through his hair. She leaned close to his ear, laying her face against his.

"Sleep... my sweet Vin... I am here..."

Nathan was on the landing when they appeared at the foot of the stairs. The sound of the gunshot splitting the early twilight air brought him from the back of the clinic. By the time he got his boots on and checked on Jake, he saw a flash of Standish's telltale red jacket crossing below from his window.

"I heard the shot," he stated eyeing Buck's odd state of dress. He was concerned for the unmoving form of Chris Larabee on a wooden door but relieved to see no visible bullet wounds. "Who got hit?"

"...nobody... important..." Buck groaned. "Jesus, he's heavier than he looks."

"I didn't see much of cretin responsible," Ezra grunted, grateful when they reached the landing. "But whatever sired him had to have been a bear."

"...a rabid one..." Buck added, leaning against the post at the top while Nathan opened the door.

"Nathan... next... town... hall... we... bring... up... that... old... store... next... to... billiard... hall."

"I'll drink to that," Standish agreed of the vacant property at street level.

"Easy now," Jackson warned, skirting past the stretcher bearers.

He slipped towards the broad opening in the room and pulled the blanket down from the vacant bed by the window. He was glad Jake was on the smaller cot, Chris wouldn't have fit on it. "Why ya totin' him on that thing?"

"We weren't sure if his back was hurt," Buck answered. "Okay, Nate, we'll tilt a bit and you slide him off.

"What happened?" Nathan asked, easing Larabee's limp body from the wood board. Once the bruised and battered body was on the bed, Buck tipped it sideways and took it outside. "Why ain't Buck dressed?" The gambler snorted, then smirked and a single chestnut brow arch at him in reply. "Oh... damn that hurts..."

"Whoever he was, he rode in about an hour ago, bearing a large varietiy of body vermin. He was standing by the bar amidst a horde of flies." Ezra moved to the foot of the bed to get Chris's boots off. Nathan had already unbuttoned the shirt and eased it out of the opened pants. The buttons on his pants were gone, so slipping them off was easy. "Then Chris arrived and he recognized him. He roared and charged across the room. We all attempted to assist Mister Larabee. " He paused when Buck reappeared and boldly raked him over, lingering on the soggy groin. "Well, almost all of us..."

"It ain't my fault I was otherwise occupied," Buck defended, eyeing his bloodied friend on the bed. "If he wasn't a good friend, I've have to shoot him. There I was halfway to heaven, all oiled up and drownin' in the finest four breasts you've ever tasted."

'Buck, don't make me lose m'supper," Nathan warned, satisfied that their leader's bones hadn't been broken. "Get his shirt off," he directed, easing Chris up and supporting him while Buck got the shirt off. "Buck..."

"Yeah." The other man moved in to take the ex-slave's place while he examined Chris's back. "Well?"

"No swellin' or breaks'," Nathan gently ran his skilled fingers over the tanned back. "Course until he wakes up and says how it feels, I won't know fuhr sure."

"That's a miracle," Ezra replied. "That monstrosity pummeled Mister Larabee and then threw him over the bar. Having been sent there previously by his hand, I had a front row seat. He seemed agitated that his victim was not aware of the grisley fate that awaited him." He watched as Nathan nodded to Buck and they eased him back down. He saw the skilled fingers lift each of Chris's eyelids, then rest against his crimson throat. "He threw the pot of coffee on him to rouse him. Then decided to castrate him. Ever the marksman, our fearless blond hero grabbed a corkscrew and jammed it in his eye. Then the beast decided to behead him, but Fate intervened."

"How's that?" Nathan asked, nodding gratefully to Buck who'd gotten a large pitcher of water and also a bowl full. He began to wipe the crimson tide from Larabee's now bloodied scalp and directed Buck on where to find the Carbolic and brown jar ointment for the burns.

"Inez blew his head off," Buck answered proudly, setting the items on a table in back of Chris's head. "He's gonna need stitches."

"Yuh think so?" Nathan said sarcastically. After wiping the blood from the gunslinger's face, neck, collarbone and scalp, he rang the cloth out twice and then set the icy wet cloth on the reddened area between Larabee's right shoulder, neck and breast. It was a nasty burn and was beginning to blister. He washed the cuts and then applied carbolic. Chris flinched, moaned and hissed, but didn't rouse. Nathan grabbed the silk and needle and began to sew up the cut under the left collarbone. "Buck, make yerself useful. Wash yer hands good and then open that brown jar. Dry that burn off real easy and rub some salve on it."

"Ezra rubs better, he's got hands softer than a woman," Buck commented and saw Standish's head fly up.

"Really?" Nathan eyed the pair and noted Buck's state of undress. "Ezra, where were ya when Buck was runnin' around nekkid?"

"Not in the gutter with your mind," the Southerner snapped. "It so happens that our notorius rogue had a malady of sorts in a rather delicate area and I was called upon to assist."

"Is that what they call it now?" Nate chuckled, tying off the last stitch and threading the needle again. He gently tipped Chris's head to the side and back. "Buck, hold it steady for me. Where I come from, all ya had to do was jump in a cold creek."

"Ha ha!" Buck mocked. "It wasn't like that. I had this... uh... well... situation and you weren't around. "

"Situation?" Jackson frowned, carefully sewing the cut over Chris's right eye. His entire face was bruised and the eye under the cut was swollen shut. The ribs were starting to color and his back would be bruised as well. He would be in a lot of pain for the next few days.

"Brother Buck had a big, old, festering boil on his ass and Ezra lanced it," Josiah said, entering the crowded room. "Then he used some kind of fancy lotion on it."

"Alright, that's enough," Buck intercepted, eyeing the preacher with a warning glance. "Leave my ass alone."

"...for days..." Sanchez grinned, winking at Ezra behind Buck's back. "Even when the boil was healed. Every afternoon they'd disappear up to Ezra's room and all you heard was Buck moaning. Now I couldn't hear it all but I did hear the words "God... dyin'... goin' t'heaven..."

"Very funny," Buck sassed, turning around to face Ezra. He was about to ask why the gambler wasn't challenging Sanchez when he saw the jade eyes leering at him and then a slip of pink tongue roll across the gambler's lips. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Just the memory of those lust-filled afternoons dancing in the sheets had rendered my groin into an exagerated state." He stepped closer and ran his hand up Buck's exposed chest. "I never realized the full potential of the word virile until that fateful day."

"Get away from me!" Buck shoved the roaming hand aside. "Fine friend you are, exposin' my ass like that."

"And what an ass it is," Ezra sent back, pulling the back door of the rosy longjohns open. "I see my mark is still there."

"I'm warnin' you Ezra," Buck threatened, then his face went ashen went he stumbled into the other cot. He slumped a bit when he saw the awful pallor and heard the raspy breathing. "He's not gonna see another sunrise."

"No," Nate said, "I'm surprised he lasted this long."

"Nathan, when you catch your breath, Vin's over at Inez's. Nothin' bleedin' or broken, but he's banged up a bit and he's not stirred yet." The preacher updated.

"I was wonderin' where he was," Nathan answered. "This ain't a train station, all o'ya clear out. Josiah'll stay with Chris and Jake."

"Come along my moist love muffin," Ezra oozed, tapping Buck's backside.

"You ain't a damn bit funny, Ezra," Buck growled, skirting past the bed and heading for the door.

Part Two

Vin was lost in a wonderful dream. He was high above a beautiful canyon and the blue of the sky melting blissfully into red rocks and cliffs. It was as if he was flying and dipping low, swooping down into the canyons and through the junipers. Finally, he stopped the dizzying pace and slipped under a tree. He lie there under it's mighty arms and sighed heavily when a cool rain danced over his hot skin. It felt so good, he moaned and licked his lips, seeking to parch his throat.

"Oh," Inez said, hearing the clicking sound and seeing the lips parting. She tapped his face and called to him. Two blue slits appeared but were unfocused. "Vin? Vin? Can you hear me. I have some water."

She shifted her body, sitting on the side of the bed and lifting him. She eased a bit behind him and he flopped back on her chest. His head was nestled between her breasts with his right cheek leaning a bit on her arm. She got the mug from the bedstand and nudged his lips.

"Water... drink..." She tipped the mug and was glad that he began to drink.

It couldn't be water, water didn't taste this good. He heard a soft voice near his ear and realized that he was not alone. The soft pillow that his head was resting on had a name. Fuzzily he peered up and saw a cascade of dark hair and two sparkling brown eyes. His mouth worked but no words formed, frustrated, he made scowled and began to twist. She shifted so he moved a bit, his head fell onto the crook of her left arm. She cradled it and used her right hand to brush the hair from his forehead. She knew by the blinking eyes and unmoving gaze he wasn't quite sure where he was.

"It's Inez, Vin, you are safe. Just rest... sleep... I am here." Could he hear her? Not sure, she moved lower to speak closer to his ear and he kissed her.

Nothing tasted as sweet and those lips. He couldn't believe he was lying in Inez's arms. He wanted more, the fire in his groin was ordering him to arms. But he was unable to coordinate his limbs at all. He remained limp in her arms, helpless and wanting. Then she kissed back and he groaned.

"Nice... oh you taste so nice..." she panted, reluctant to pull away.

"Inez?" Nathan called out, hearing her talking.

Inez tried to move off the bed, but Vin's shifted and his arm moved, grabbing her shoulder and tugging the fabric of her blouse down.

"No... no... Vin," Inez soothed, gently easing him from her chest and back onto the pillows that supported him.

"Who were ya talkin' tuh?" Nathan asked entering the well kept room.

"Um... Um..." Inez backed up and absentmindedly brushed a hand over her tingling lips. "He opened his eyes but I don't think he saw me... I was trying to... uh... comfort him."

"Could be," Jackson sat on the bed and cupped VIn's jaw, turning his head back and forth. "He's tryin' tuh wake up but his head ain't ready yet. If he has a concussion, he might be mixed up like that all night. Best if he don't move."

"That's fine," she blurted, "I will take care of him. How is Senor Chris?"

"Lucky," Jackson answered, lifting Vin's eyes and noting the dilation. "Nothin' broken, but that burn on his chest is nasty. He's loaded with bruises and I think that back will bother him a bit. He's gonna be sore as hell for a few days. I'll feel better when he wakes up and I talk tuh him."

He checked his pulse and respiration and was satisfied. His hands then moved over the bruising ribcage. A soft hiss and a face creasing in pain caused him to stop momentarily. He ran a hand along the swelling jaw and then carefully applied pressure. Vin reacted and moved his mouth as if to complain.

"Good, ain't broken."

"He did take some water a little while ago."

"Good. He could use more and soft food. That jaw ain't gonna be able t'eat anything chewy. Broth, puddin', oatmeal, like that."

"Si... si... I will make him caramel pudding, he loves that."

She watched as the gentle healer did a full examination. She assisted him by holding Vin against her when he moved him onto his side to look at his back. The limp tracker's hot breath danced across her arm and the sensation caused her to flush. Then Nathan nodded and they put him back on the bed. She moved away so he could finish.

"Inez? Yuh might keep a cold cloth pressed t'his jaw, it'll help. " He moved his hands over the lean chest and Vin grunted and tried to move. "He's gonna be sore too. Vin ain't happy when he's down." . Vin was annoyed. No, he was mad. The blue sky had darkened and his beautiful angel was gone. In her place was something decidedly male and not possessing the silken touch. Someone busted up his dream. His temper flared and he shoved weakly against the hand that was running down his chest. He moved his head and tried to sit up. The effort got his eyes half open and he tried to make a fist to fight off the invader.

"Cut that out, Vin," Nathan chided, watching the infamous Texan's temper flaring. For a moment he saw the blue slits but now the lids shut. "Open them eyes, Vin, I know ya can hear me."

"Fuck off..." Vin panted, now recognizing the voice. "...havin'... nice... dream... interferin'... cold handed... bastard..."

"Yuh hush that Tanner mouth, there's a lady here," Nathan warned with a grin. The body quit squirming and the eyes tried to open.

"Lady?" Vin rasped, wondering who dropped an anvil on his head.

Nathan took the opportunity and lifted VIn forward, slipping a folded up quilt behind him With the pillows also, it gave him more support. "Half-sittin' 'im up, with them ribs, makes his breathin' better," he coached Inez. Just then the blue eyes shot wide open and the mouth moved, trying to speak. A cry of pain came out and Vin's hand fumbled tyring to reach his jaw.

"It ain't busted," Nathan advised the dazed tracker, grabbing the wayward hand. 'But ya won't be eatin' steak fuhr awhile. Vin?" He shook his head when the eyes shut and the body went limp. "He's gonna be like that on and off, until the concussion wears off some."

He rose then and satisifed the young man was in good hands, he took his bag and turned to the door.

'If he starts throwin up, coughin' blood or his condition changes, ya know where t'find me. I'll check on 'im later."

"That is not necessary, Nathan. You have two patients already. I will be fine here."

She walked Nathan to the door and then satisfied that her private patient was resting, she went to the kitchen. She would make him caramel pudding and soup. She hummed to herself, keeping the rosy cheeks that his kiss brought.

Nathan's clinic
Daybreak

The first sensation that overpowered him as he made the painful journey from the cover of darkness into the rude light was pain. So much pain that he didn't move. Trying to open his eyes caused severe pain in one of them and the crack of light that hit him felt like a poker went through his eye clear to his skull. Groaning, Chris moved his fingers and found them traveling on soft cotton. Then his fumbling hand hit wood and moved to a flat hard surface and then air. It took him a few moments but his fingers sent a message to his brain that this was a window. He didn't have a window next to his bed.

Where the hell was he?

He retracted his hand and then moved his legs. More pain erupted shooting up both legs and wrapping it's demonic fingers around his back. It extended it's brutal talons then and gripped his skull. It was as if his brain was being forced out of the top of his head. An explosion of white head sent his eye open and stoked the fire in his belly. He tried to sit up when the viscious bile rose and couldn't seem to navigate his legs. His blurred vision took in wooden walls, some windows, a cabinet with glass doors and bottles behind it. Someone with dark hair and a mustache was sitting on a chair near his feet. The vomit was in his throat and mouth, choking him. It burned like hell and coupled with the agony he was engulfed in, tears burned. One hand flailed out seeking a port in the nightmare he was lost in. Just then a strong arm grabbed him and a deep voice gave commands.

"Okay, Chris," Josiah soothed, easing the smaller man up and sideways. The toussled blond head was over a basin and thankfully, he'd had the sense to grab a deep one. Chris threw up a lot and Sanchez held on, until the agonizing dry heaves passed. He didn't want Chris to choke on any residue but had no free hand. He eyed the slumbering rogue and called out. "Buck! Buck! Wake up... Buck!"

"Huh?" Buck jumped up too fast and staggered, wiping the sleep from his face. "Shit... I'm sorry Josiah. Whaddya need?"

"Here." He handed over the full basin. "Dump that outside. I'm gonna get him to rinse his mouth out and try to get some water in him."

"Okay," Buck agreed, eyeing the empty area in the back where the room bellied out. Nathan's office was back there, stock piled with medicine, herbs and other stuff. In the very back was a cot, table, chair, stove and sink. But it was empty. "Where's Nate?"

"In his room at the boarding house. He didn't sleep all night between Jake and Chris. I got here about an hour ago and sent him off. He needs to sleep." He took the pitcher of cold water and mug that Buck then handed him. He saw Wilmington's head dip down and shake when they encountered the sheet covered body in the next bed.

"When?" Buck asked, smoothing out the sheet so that Jake was fully covered.

"A few hours ago, Nathan said he was in a lot of pain and then just gasped and died."

"He was a nice old guy," Buck lamented. "Seems cold to have no kin to bury ya."

"The Lord'll will keep him warm, his Father will welcome him home." He got Chris into a sitting position and Buck plied more pillows behind him so that the battered blond was in a sitting position. Josiah tapped the marred cheek and watched the scowl forming. "Chris? Come on now, open your eye. "

"...hurts..." Chris slurred, but forced his eye to open. Two blurry figures were peering at him. The gray haired one was next to him and the dark-haired one by his knee. His mouth was beyond vile. Burning and full of a bitter taste that he knew all too well. "...fuck..." he complained, clucking his tongue and spitting.

"Hold on," Josiah got a mug and tried to give him a drink but his hand was intercepted.

"...gimme... mug..."

"Now look," Sanchez ordered, pulling the mug back. "We can do this easy or hard. You need to rinse and then drink. Your hand is shakin' worse than a virgin on her wedding night. You start spillin' on this sheet and we have to move you to change it." He watched as the lone green eye glared at him while the words were processed. Changing the bed meant moving and that was too painful to contemplate. Still glaring, the mouth opened. "That's a good boy."

"...make me shoot... you... preacher..." Chris drank the water, rinsed twice and drained three mugs more. He rubbed his aching jaw and wondered why his chest smelled and was greasy, not to mention on fire. His head felt as if there was a hatchet buried in it and his back and ribs as if a horse fell on him. "...fuck... hit... me..."

"We ain't sure if it was man or beast or a half-breed, " Buck supplied, moving to take Josiah's spot.

"Chris, Nathan was here all night, I sent him home to rest. But he wanted you to have fluids. Your jaw ain't up to food just yet but how about soup? Maybe some coffee?"

"Whiskey?" Chris decided, lying back on the bank of pillows and closing his throbbing eye.

"Yeah, in the coffee." Sanchez waited for the head to bob. "Buck, you mind the fort, I'm going to the boarding house. I'll make sure Mae knows what we need today. "

Buck nodded and sat down, watching Chris' features meld into confusion. He was trying to remember what happened and was coming up blank most likely. He got his friend a cold mug of apple cider and guided the wobbly hand.

"Bar fight," Buck supplied, taking the mug and setting it down. He waited and the battered face screwed up again and a hand covered it.

Flashes appeared in Chris's throbbing head. He felt stitches and swelling and mulled over Buck's words. A crowded bar, a loud bellow, chairs and tables flying past him. A large hulking man seemingly made of iron. Pain. Pain. Pain. It exploded everywhere and a red curtain covered the odd images. He heard glass break and saw the beast's face above him. He thought of his throbbing body and his lips parted.

"Broke..."

"No, by some miracle you ain't busted up to hell. That animal wanted to separate your head from your body. Damned near succeeded. You got a concussion, a bruised jaw, burned chest, bruised ribs, a small stab wound by your collarbone and stitches in your head. And your face, well, Stud, you ain't lookin' so pretty."

"Who?"

"Ezra said his name was Hawkes."

"Hawkes," Chris spat out and peeled his eye open. The memory of the carnage the beast left behind in that small town returned. "Fuckin' animal..."

"I won't argue that," Buck decided.

Only gifted a moment of reprieve, his mind flashed on the bar again and he was drinking with Vin. He frowned and tilted his head as the weird images continued. He saw Vin on his knees and Hawkes with bloodlust in his eye. Buck was here, why wasn't Vin? He peeled his eye open and saw for the first time, part of a body covered in a sheet. A man that wasn't too large. The pain that uncoiled then was not from his physical injuries, it was a much greated one.

"...fuck... fuck... no... Vin? Shit..."

"Huh?" Buck blinked and saw the agony painted on Chris's face as he stared at the corpse. "Aw, shit, Chris, I'm sorry. That's not Vin, that' Jake."

"Who?"

"Jake Hamilton. He collapsed yesterday and Nathan was with him all day a night. He was a lotta pain until the end. He died a little while ago."

Buck had heard about relief coursing through a body but he'd never seen it. Not until now. It was as if Chris's bone melted into the bed. For a moment, Buck felt as if he was invading Chris's privacy. The other man was too overcome by what he thought he'd lost to speak. So Buck just gave his shoulder a tug.

"Vin's okay, Chris. You know that damn Texan's too ornery to die. He's at Inez's. He got knocked out in the fight. You're damn lucky to be alive."

"Yeah," Chris managed to find a bit of sarcasm, "I feel lucky." Then an image so cold and brutal flashed it caused him to jump. He felt Hawkes hand on his balls and the threat appear along with a knife. He shot his hand under the blanket with fear gripping him.

"What the hell's wrong?" Buck sat up and thought all the liquid Chris had consumed. He knew Nathan had gotten some water into him overnight. Maybe it was his bladder ready to release. "You gotta pee? I'll get Pete." He stood up and got the odd contraption that Nathan made for them when they were confined in bed. It had a handle and looked like a long bottle with a slope on one end. Vin nicknamed it after being wounded. He was trying to slur to them he had to pee and 'Pete' came out.

"Shit..." Chris sighed, relief settling in. "that bastard was gonna cut my balls off. He grabbed them and had a fuckin' knife."

"Yeah, well he won't be cuttin' anyone again, he's dead." Buck handed Pete to Chris and didn't make the mistake of asking if he needed help.

"How?"

"Well, Hawkes was gonna cut your balls off but you had other ideas. You speared his eye with a corkscrew." Buck chuckled when Chris frowned momentarily and then remembered. "He wasn't too happy after that and decided to cut your head off instead. That's when Inez blew his face off. It wasn't much a face to begin ."

"How long?" Chris moved Pete sideways and from under the blanket and handed it too Buck.

"All night," Wilmington answered, leaving to empty Pete and wash it out. He saw that Josiah had made coffee and poured two mugs, dousing one with whiskey. He put the wooden tray on legs that Nathan used over Chris's lap and put the mug down. "It's about six I guess, the sun's comin' up. " He turned just as Larabee winced and rubbed his jaw.

"Just sip, don't talk."

By the time Josiah came back, Chris was out again. Buck poured the spiked coffee into his now empty mug and Josiah brought him a plate of ham, eggs and biscuits. Buck ate and settled back in the chair, eyeing the battered, bloody body in the bed. How many times in the last dozen years or so had he been in the same position.

"Just like the old days," he toasted with a soft smile. He decided to take advantage of the fact that Chris was sleeping and catch a nap. It was going to be a long day.

Vin blinked and opened his eyes and waited for the mud in his brain to ease enough that he'd know where he was. The thick muck remained in place and between the throbbing head and jaw, he was not able to fight the confusion. He eyed the unfamiliar room and the flowered quilt that covered him. He saw soft, new daylight shining behind some curtains on the window. Then some others images caught his eye and left him confused.

Curtains? Flowered quilt? More flowers in a vase? A chair with a pair of woman's undergarments draped on it?

"...hell's goin' on..." he whispered, then hissed when his jaw flared. He rubbed it and felt the swelling. He closed his eyes and recalled a dream, a wonderful dream with Inez holding him and kissing him. His eyes shot open then and zoned on the woman's undergarments nearby. Was it a dream? "shit..."

He sat up, tossed his legs over the bed and tried to stand. That was his first mistake. The dizzyness was overwhelming and he swayed, hitting the tin basin on the bedstand and sending it to the floor. A flash of hair and a colorful skirt whizzed by. Two small but very determined hands forced him back onto the bed.

"What do you think you are doing?" Inez said in a harsh tone.

Vin blinked in a stupor, eyeing the twins hands burning right through the skin on his chest. He recalled those hands on his face and chest and felt those lips again. The undergarments seemed to jump up and down at him in accusation. What the hell had he done? He lifted his shamed face up then and felt his face flush. She was so beautiful and so close, with such tenderness in her eyes.

"m'sorry... Inez... I can't believe I done... musta been drunk," he murmured of his aching head.

"What?"

She was confused now and saw down next to him on the bed. Then she saw his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that were so expressive eyeing her undergarments. Two and two added up and she almost chuckled at his remorse. That was just one more thing that made him special. No man she'd been with had every given that to her. She tipped his sorrowful face up and smiled at him, letting her thumb caress his cheek.

"You did nothing to be sorry for, Vin. There was a fight last night, you were knocked out and Josiah brought you here to rest. Nathan was by and checked on you. He said you had to stay put, you hurt your jaw."

"So... we... didn't...." He peeked up shyly and was rewarded by the warmest smile he'd ever encountered. It filled him up and caused him to tingle all over.

"No, sweet Vin," she answered, stroking his face. "But thank you for that. Nobody ever treated..."

He took the hand and kissed it, rubbing his fingers over hers. "...they's fools then. Don't recall meetin' any lady finer..."

"I have some pudding," she managed, feeling hot all over. She sat on the bed and slowly fed him the sweet caramel pudding

Vin was like a puppet, unable to move. His jaw hurt but the warm pudding melted on his tongue and slipped easily down his throat. It was wonderful, rich and sweet. In between spoonfuls, she updated him on Chris and what happened. He drank in the details along with some cider. He was mezmerized by her face and enchanted by her voice. It was as warm and soothing as the pudding. Her bronzed skin stood out against the white peasant blouse and he felt guilty about the want in him that wanted to taste every inch of it. Finally, the simple meal was done. She stood up to return to the kitchen and found him trying to rise. "No, you have to rest. Nathan said..."

"Can't stay here," Vin insisted, "Ya don't need no tongues waggin'. It ain't right, me bein' in yer bed."

She wanted to tell him then, to pour her heart out. She wanted nothing more than to share his bed and his heart. But she folded herself into him then and hugged him, letting her head rest on his chest. If felt so good, so right, she could have been content forever. She thought on his wonderful heart than and kept those words he spoke. They wrapped around inside her and she shivered again.

"Inez?" Vin croaked, pulling her close. The eyes that looked back at him were full of emotion, burning with desire.

Could she really be embracing him and looking at him that way? He ran his hand up her spine than and she shuddered, her warm breath danced on his chest. She lifted her face up then and parted her lips. He bent down and captured them, drinking in the sweetness and relishing the splendour . He groaned and moved his hands down over her hips, pulling her closer.

Inez was tingling all over and allowed his kiss to fuel her desire. The seed was planted and she slid her hands up his back, rubbing the taut area over his waistline. She kissed him back and heard him groaning . She felt the pressure building where their bodies met and then he swayed.

"Vin?" She pulled back and saw the color draining from his face. His eyes went wide and then started to roll back. In the back of her head she heard Nathan's warning about a concussion and blackouts. She pushed him back down and caught him as he fell sideways.

Vin managed to pull his legs up and was vaguely aware of her pulling the quilt up. She kissed him again and the last thing he saw was his angel's smile

"Sleep... my sweet Vin..."

"...sweet..."

"Si, my Vin... my heart..." she vowed, full of the wonderment that budding love brings.

Chris gasped and pushed back into a large wall of pillows, using the one eye that would open to navigate a room. The sun was pouring in and he knew by the strength of it, it was midday. For a few moments, he was very confused. He knew by the cot, wall and window, this was Nathan's clinic. But he couldn't figure out why he was here. He heard a deep male voice humming from somewhere behind him.

"Nate?"

He rested his throbbing eye until he heard a scraping of boots on wood. A gentle hand to his neck brought his eye open again. Nathan Jackson pulled out a stethescope and began to listen to his chest. CHris sat quietly while the healer examined him. Satisifed, Nathan left for a moment and returned with a tray full of bowls.

"Soup, water, tea and puddin'," Nathan directed. "How's yerr back?"

"Sore, stiff," Chris answered, moving his back around. He sat forward and backward, hissing a bit but realizing no serious injury existed. He knew the legs would be the next question and pulled both up and moved them around as well.

"Good." Nathan set the tray down and took a seat on the small stool by the bed. "Yuh ain't busted nuthin, but yer bruised bad. "

Chris took two spoonfuls of the vegetable soup and frowned. Bits and pieces of a bar fight came back to him. He vaguely recalled Buck and Josiah talking to him earlier. Then he saw the face of Gideon Hawkes and dropped the spoon.

"Chris?" Nathan leaned in and waved a hand in front of the transfixed green eyes. He snapped his fingers and they blinked. "Yuh get dizzy?"

"No," Larabee took a sip of the tea and sighed. "It was Hawkes. I should have killed that fuckin' bastard two years ago."

"He's dead enuf now," Jackson stated. "Matter of fact, JD says there's papers on 'im. There might be reward."

"How's Vin?" Chris asked, resuming his meal. His jaw ached and he didn't want to waste it talking when he could be eating.

"Better. His face ain't nearly as pretty as yers," the healer teased. "He got knocked out, his jaws sore and his ribs are a mite bruised. I'm gonna check on him and send him ta get a hot bath, it'll help."

"Speakin' of which," Chris asked, pushing the empty soup bowl away and draining the water. "When's my bail money coming?"

"Not today," Nathan advised, "The head o'yers got bounced t'much. I want ya ta stay put in that bed. He saw the blond man counting on his fingers.

"Still Thursday?"

"All day," Nathan answered. He recalled Buck telling Josiah that he and VIn would be going to Grover's Pass for the auction. "Yuh ain't ridin' to Grover's Pass on Friday neither. Yuh'll be lucky if ya can walk ta the saloon, let alone set a horse."

"I'll be fine by Saturday morning." Larabee didn't leave any room for argument. His eyes skirted to the empty bunk and he recalled a body there earlier. "Jake?"

"Down at the undertakers. He suffered quite a bit, damn shame," Nathan said sadly. "He's got no kin."

"You see to a coffin and burial, I'll take care of it," Chris said, taking Pete when Nathan offered it.

"Okay," Nathan agreed, taking the empty tray and moving it back to the kitchen.

He poured Chris a large mug of coffee and laced it with a painkiller. He knew by the tension in his jaw and the wincing eye Larabee was in a great deal of pain. He took a pan of herbs from the oven and dumped them into a small pillow case. Once they were packed inside, he tied the end. WHen he returned, Larabee was finished.

"This outta help yer back," Jackson predicted, easing Larabee forward and laying the hot herbal pack along the length of his back. He took the groan of bliss to be a good sign. Then he got the mug of coffee and put in on the small table by Larabee's hand.

"Thanks," Chris sighed, the heat spreading through and across his back was wonderful. "for everything, Nate."

"I'm gonna git some lunch and then check on Vin. I'll be back later. Move yer legs around a bit, don't let that back get stiff."

Chris sipped on the strong coffee and watched Nathan's dark head go past the window. He thought again on how lucky they were to have him in their group. He was a solid friend, the kind most men never find. He had to be exhausted, having worked on Jack all day and night and then having him and Vin to tend to as well. Three sips later, the spiked coffee was starting to relax him and the heat in the pack was adding to the lull. He rested his eye and laid his head back. His respite was short lived. A pat to the knee and a loud voice drew his eye open.

"Damn you're pretty," Buck boomed, tapping the bronzed chest lightly. "If I wasn't a full-breast man, I'd have to make a move on you."

"You couldn't afford me," Chris quipped.

"How you doin', old dog?" Wilmington asked, eyeing the bruised and battered body with a skeptical eye.

"Feelin' like an old dog," Chris agreed, toasting the thought with his mug before taking a sip. "A whipped, old dog." He eyed the rogues unmarred face and tilted his head. "How'd you come out clean?"

"I was in a battle of my own," Buck updated, wagging his eyebrows. "Damn near drowned in a multiple mountain of flesh."

"Both of 'em?" Chris inquired of the pair of women he'd seen Buck walking off with the night before.

"One and half," Buck replied, his eyes glazing when he recalled the event.

"A half?" the blond made the mistake of asking.

"Well you see, Sadie was ridin' me and Millie was tryin' to smother me with those lovely pillows she has."

"Jesus, Buck, I just ate," Chris groaned and wrinkled his nose. "You sleep in shit, you know that?"

"Born under a lucky star," the dark-haired man laughed. "By the time that shotgun went off and I got my drawers on, the action was over."

"Everything okay now?"

"Yeah, Ezra and the kid are cleanin' up the saloon, it's a mess. Josiah is helpin' Matt dig a grave for Jake. Damn shame, he was a nice old guy."

"Helluva thing to die alone," Chris commented, putting the nearly empty mug of coffee down. He yawned and laid his head back, enjoying the heat of the back pack.

Buck was a bit startled by the quiet comment Chris made. Maybe nearly getting killed made him think about his own mortality.

"Hell, stud," Buck said, clapping Chris's blanketed knee, "You ain't gonna die alone. I'll come and I'll bring some friends. If Ezra ain't in jail, I'll find him and drag him along. Josiah will find a kind word to say over ya. Vin'll play somethin' on that damn mouth organ he totes around. You'll have such a crowd , the kid'll have to hire someone to keep the peace."

Chris grinned then, not just for the shit-eatin' grin Buck wore but for all the warmth behind hit. He had no doubt Buck was here last night and would remain here until he was up and about again. He was damned glad to have him for a friend.

"So any of these friends that you're bringing to my funeral, women?"

"Hell, ya even gotta ask?" Buck feigned hurt. "I figure I have a few dozen within ridin' distance that will be required to comfort me in my time of need."

"What about my time of need?" Larabee asked.

"Well, damn son," Wilmington grinned. "You'll be dead, you won't need comfortin'"

"You can never tell, Bucko," Larabee shot back, using the nickname he'd given Buck shortly after they met. He saw the light of the power of it reflected back in Buck's smile. "You might be rubbing off on me. Wilmington's always loaded and ready to fire."

"Damn straight!" Buck bragged, tapping his groin.

"How far to Grovers Pass?" Larabee yawned and laid his head back.

"Chris, you ain't gonna be ready by Saturday. Me and Vin can handle it."

"After two days of having Nathan ply me with runny eggs and oatmeal, I'll drag myself out on crutches if I have to. "

"It's a three hour ride, give or take," Buck answered. "Auctions at noon. We leave out after breakfast and ride slow, we'll make it." He saw the blond head nod and then fall back. "Chris?" He whispered, then stood and pulled the quilt up. "Damn, between him and Vin ridin' hurt it's gonna be a long weekend."

Vin was sitting up, eating pudding when Nathan arrived. Inez had a full house in the saloon for the midday meal and he hadn't seen her in hours.

"Yuh look better than the last time I seen ya," Nathan said, pressing his hands on Vin's side. The slim man flinched and hissed, pulling away. "How ya feel?"

"Feel better if yer hands weren't cold," Vin snapped, slapping at the hand that now was touching his jaw. "Leave me be, 'm fine."

"Crankier than a bear with a thorn in his paw." Nate grinned, seeing the normal signs of Tanner recovering. He hated being handled and especially being in bed. "Yuhr gettin' better. Blurry eyes, throwin' up..."

"No!" Vin growled, flashing his irate blues on the chuckling healer. "Where's my clothes?"

"I want ya t'get a bath, Vin. A hot soak in a tub will loosin' up them sore muscles. And I know yer still totin' a headache. Yuh had a concussion and ya might be dizzy, so stay off yer horse and away from steps."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Vin answered, sitting up and putting his feet over the bed. "How's Chris?"

"Lucky," Nathan answered, handing Vin his drawers, pants and a clean shirt. "Nothin's busted but he's gonna be sore as hell for awhile. His back is botherin' him and his face is a mess." He saw Vin pause after putting his shirt on and stand up. Nathan held his elbow steady while the younger man got his pants on.

"No sense puttin' on anythin' else," Vin stated, "T'much t'pull off in the bath house."

"How's yer jaw?" Nate asked, shoving Vin's slouch hat on his head. The arm went out and the healer hung his gunbelt and mare's leg over his shoulder.

"Sore... but I ain't eatin' any more puddin'. I reckon by supper I can manage somethin' besides puddin'."

He shuffled a few steps and then straighted up, walking to the back door. He was glad Nathan was by his side for the first part of the journey. He was a little dizzy and the sun seemed very bright. When they got to the bathhouse, he nodded once, tipping his hat.

"Sorry about firin' yer ear, Nate."

"No, ya ain't!" Nate laughed. "Yuh have a good soak and rest, Yuh'll feel better."

It took longer than usual for Vin to get his stiff body into the hot water. But once he sat down and rested his head against the high back, he felt like he was in heaven. The steam rose around him and he closed his eyes. Inez's face appeared in his mind's eye and he groaned, recalling her hands on him and those kisses. He let his imagination grow and envisioned her in the tub with him. She was straddling him, using the soap to glide over him and bending low, kissing him, her breasts wet and ripe.

"Shit..." Vin hissed, feeling himself growing hard under the water. "Good thing I'm in a tub."

The clinic was quiet when Vin arrived. By the time he'd climbed to the top, he was a bit tired and dizzy. He peered inside first, hoping to avoid the wrath of Nathan. Josiah was in the back, reading a newspaper.

Josiah heard the door and looked up, recognizing the hat first. His face split into a grin and he rose up.

"Afternoon Brother Vin," he called out and got a single dip of the head. "Coffee?"

"Thanks," Vin answered, shuffling to the back. Chris was sleeping and Vin winced, his eyes raking in the multitude of injuries. In addition to the battered face and stab wound, there was a nasty burn swathed in salve and blistering on one side of his upper chest.

"Damn, his face looks like a dime's worth o'dog meat."

"That about covers it," Josiah agreed, putting the sweeted brew down along with a piece of pie. "Take little bites, it's peach, Mae made it this morning."

"Thanks, Josiah," Vin said, taking his hat off and sitting on the bunk across from Chris.

"I'll be in the back, if you need me."

"Yeah," he replied, pulling the small stool next to Chris over to use as a table of sorts. He took a tiny nibble of the pie and groaned. Not only were the peaches sweet but it was loaded with cinnamon and the crust was buttery. He continued to vocalize his pleasure as he ate.

Chris frowned, wondering what was interrupting his nap. He peeled an eye open and saw the long hair first. Vin was on the bunk next to him, enjoying something sweet.

"Damn, Tanner, you got a woman over there?" He inquired of the moans of pleasure.

"Wouldn't taste this good," Vin answered, finishing the last of the pie and taking some coffee.

"You don't know the right women," Chris disagreed, reaching an arm out. In a flash, he was being at up, the pillows fluffed and eased back. "Thanks. How you doin'?"

"I'm okay, a little dizzy."

"You were born a little dizzy," Chris teased, glad to see only a slight bruise on Vin's jaw, although it was swollen. "Sorry you got in the middle of that bastard's wrath."

"Ya sure can pick 'em," Vin replied, yawning. He leaned back on the bunk, resting against the wall. "How's yer back?"

"Nathan's been using some kind of sac full of hot herbs. I'll tell you what, he knows his stuff. It feels a lot better than when I first woke up."

"Best ya stay put then, until it's better. Me and Bucklin can handle the horse sale."

"I'll be fine by Saturday," Chris stated. "I'll be ready to bust out by then."

"I hear that," Vin agreed, wincing at the afternoon sun shot through the curtain and his his face. The short journey to the tub, the bath and the walk up the stairs wore him out. He'd rest his eyes a moment.

Josiah arrived a few moments later, with another hot pac for Chris. He eyed the snoring tracker and shook his head.

"He wore himself out moanin' over the damn pie," Chris updated, moving so Josiah could lay the sac behind him. "Nathan outta sell this shit, it's great."

"You need anything?" Josiah asked. "I have to wire the Judge and update him."

"No, we'll be fine," Chris answered. He settled back and let the heat massage his tender back. It wasn't long before both friends were dozing in the afternoon sun.

Part Three

Thursday
Paso Del Norte

The saloon was not crowded and as the afternoon bled into a hazy purple twilight. The dinner the friends shared had gone down well with some beer and conversation. Now as the night prepared to fall, the sound of coins dancing in the hand of the town's gambler were overpowered by a complaint.

"Jesus Ezra, I'm a friend!" Buck argued when his silver disappeared across the table.

"Business is business," Standish noted, taking JD's money as well. He looked up when Vin entered the saloon. It was dusk and they'd not seen their friend all day. "Well, well, look what the wind blew in. How are you Mister Tanner?"

"Hungry!" Vin decided, moving his hand over his abdomen. "Any grub out?" He noticed the end of the bar where Inez usually had dishes with food at the evening meal was empty.

"We had ham steaks and potatoes," Buck said.

"There's a pot in the kitchen, it has chicken stew in it," JD said. "I'll get some for you."

"S'okay, kid, I'll git it," Vin answered, shuffling past the trio towards the kitchen. His slight headache preferred the quiet, smoke free kitchen. He took his coat and hat off and laid them on the chair near the window. He moved towards the stove, his eyes wide with anticipation.

His nose twitched when he saw the steam rising from the tasty stew. He sniffed over the pot, stirring the mixture of gravy, chicken bits, potatoes and carrots. He saw fresh biscuits nearby and his stomach growled. His eyes went around the room seeking a bowl. Frowning, he put the spoon down, turned the heat off the stove and wandered further, to the back room where the supplies were. Before he could locate a bowl, he saw a shaply leg stretching. His eyes went up the leg over a full skirted backside to a shapely waist encased in white cotton. Inez was on a stepstool, reaching way over her head for something on a top shelf. Just then, she shifted and the stool moved.

"Inez!" Vin called out, darting over and catching her.

They tumbled backwards, landing on a bed of large sacks of grain, flour and rice. Vin was on his back with Inex on top of him. For a moment, neither moved, each breathless and eyeing the other. Both faces flushed a bit at the close proximity of their bodies. Wordlessly, each moved at the same time, but that only tangled their limbs more. Vin slipped and ended up with his hand trapped between the burlap sack and her full breast. He didn't realize he was caressing it until her breath caught and her head shot back. She mumbled something in Spanish and melted back onto the sacs, pressing closer into his hand.

"Aw... God..." Vin gasped, moving over her. He peered down at those beautiful dark eyes and wanted to drown in their depths. He stroked her silken cheek and caressed her cheekbone with his thumb. His other hand slipped under the disshelveled blouse, up her hot skin until it covered her breast. The thumb moved up and down her cheekbone, until she captured it between her teeth and sucked on it. "No... don't..." He protested, pulling it back. But she felt so good under him and the heat rising between their bodies was overpowering. He wanted more and she did as well. She parted her lips and pulled his head down, kissing him hard. He groaned and laid his full weight on her, moving both hands to push her blouse up. Her hands moved down his back and did a tempting dance over his backside. When she pulled him down, gripping his backside hard, he panicked. He wanted nothing more to satisfy his needs, but not like this. He pulled away, rolled sideways and regrouped, to his feet.

"Vin? What's wrong?"

"Nothin', darlin," Vin said huskily, his eyes burning at the portrait by his feet. Her breasts were rising and falling, the pink tips screaming at him to be fed. He averted his gaze and grit his teeth. He was deciding on how quickly he could make it to the alley to release his urge when she appeared in front of him. "I want it t'be special, not like this."

"Alright," she answered, realizing he was struggling. She stood up and fixed her clothes. Then she took his face in both hands and kissed him softly, sucking on his lip a little longer than she intended and left the room.

Buck happened to be looking out the window when Vin went by, walking quickly and seemingly on a mission.

"He ate fast," JD commented, following the rogue's eyes.

"He sure looks like he's in a hurry," Buck answered.

"He's headed out back," Standish noted of the direction where the outhouses were located.

"Damn, I bet he ate too fast," Wilmington said. "Maybe his stomach was too empty."

"Should we check on him"" JD wondered.

"No!" Inez said too quickly and saw three heads aim at her with odd looks on their faces. "I mean... if he's... something went through him... he won't want anyone there. "

"Yeah," Buck decided, "Somethings a man had to do on his own."

"Si!" Inez sighed, thinking of her poor Vin's painful state that she caused. "Si..."

She returned to the kitchen and ladled the stew into a large tin. She made a basket with biscuits, a pot of honey and some caramel pudding. She knew he'd be with Chris and they needed to eat. She could get the food there before he arrived and would be embarrassed in front of Chris with her there. As she walked over, she thought on that kind face and good heart. He was so easy to love, he had everything she'd always wanted in a man. Could he love her? She ached to hold him in her arms and love him for all it was worth. He was special and worth the wait.

Chris was dozing when a soft voice floated into his subconscious. By the time he got his eyes open and blinked a few times, he caught the scent of something wonderful.

Inez had just set the basket down on the table by the foot of Chris's bed when she heard him cry out. He looked awful; his handsome face was marred by bruises, stitches and swelling. His chest had bandages, stitches and burn ointment on it. Just breathing appeared to be difficult. But just seeing him breathing and healing was wonderful.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to disturb you."

"Don't be," Chris reassured, trying to mask the pain radiating through him. He saw her dark eyes going towards the back of clinic, where the room turned and extended. He knew who she was looking for.

"The long, haired river rat isn't here," he answered the silent question.

"I have brought some caramel pudding, I hope you like it," she offered , relieved that she would not embarass Vin Tanner.

"There isn't anything you make that isn't good," Chris decided, "and that smells great."

"I will help you, wait." She saw him struggling and helped him sit up better. "There..." She put the footed tray that was nearby over his waist and set the pudding down. She broke the biscuits up into tiny bits and drizzled the honey over them. "I will get you some coffee."

"Inez?" Chris caught her wrist, held those beautiful brown eyes with his own for a moment and lifted the trembling hand. He kissed her hand and then held onto it a moment longer. "Thank you. You're one helluva woman, lady."

"I... I..." She swallowed hard, tears cresting in her eyes. She sat down on the small chair next to the bed and relished the warmth of his touch. "I did not think. I saw that beast... and you were not moving and... it was so fast."

"I'm sorry, Inez," Chris whispered when the tears rolled. "I didn't mean to upset you." He moved his hand then from hers and picked up the linen napkin. Then he gently wiped those tears away.

"Upset..." she lifted her face and found a smile. "When I saw you lying there and all that blood..." Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. "It hurt inside... you, Buck, Vin... all of you are my family now."

"Family's worth fightin' for," Chris agreed and thought on Vin and the soft way she issued his name. "A lot of things are worth fighting for. Especially if you care deeply about someone."

He knows.

That was her first thought and she didn't know how to avert the piercing light green eyes. She licked her dry lips and rose, fanning her now flaming face.

"The pudding is best warm, you should eat it. I will get your coffee."

Chris had half of the pudding done when she put the mug down. He knew he touched a raw nerve but felt better that he'd brought it up.

"I better get back," she said. "I will bring you breakfast in the morning."

"He cares about you too, Inez." He held those pretty eyes again. "Not many who can ride that rainbow." He paused, "Somethings are worth fighting for."

"Si... Si..." she whispered, nodding once and turning away. As she walked and let the cool breeze kiss her face, she thought on Chris Larabee's words. Vin Tanner was worth fighting for and maybe it was time to let him know that.

Hope Ranch
Friday night

Buck paused at the pump outside the back door and eyed the beautiful sunset about to be born. The sky was an array of beautiful colors, from the soft violets through shy rose and bold scarlet, they bowed before him. He doused his face and head, then used a clean towel to dry himself. He'd put in a long day, repairing over fifty percent of the corral. A much needed extension was now added. He'd done most of the hard work, not wanting Vin's tender ribs to get any worse. Besides, the barn needed painting and that was a job he detested. He eyed the figure working quietly at the far end of the barn. Vin had been exceptionally quiet all day. Buck sensed that something was bothering him. He'd hinted a couple times but Vin had rebuffed him. The best thing to do was give him some space.

Vin completed his task and took the brushes and buckets to the creek to wash them off. He wasn't sure why he was so moody today. Things were going well, a little too well. The ranch was prospering, all of his friends were safe and he had a home for the first time in many years. He sighed and shivered, the cool night air was nipping at his skin. The thin cotton shirt didn't protect much.

He walked back to the ranch and put the paint brushes and buckets on the low shelf in the barn. He sat on a hale of bay, playing with a long strand. He frowned and sighed, shifting a bit. He felt jumpy, as if his own skin were no longer comfortable. In the pit of his gut he knew the problem. It had two arms, two legs, two pretty dark eyes, two alluring lips and two fine breasts.

"Desire, yer name's Inez," he murmured. Raking a hand throught his long hair, he'd failed. He had been trying all day to keep the pretty barkeep out of his thoughts. But the harder he tried, the more difficult it became. "Hell..."

"Vin!"

Buck's loud call reminded him that's dinner was most likely ready. He'd ignored the tall man all day and he felt badly about that. Normally, he enjoyed Buck's stories and teasing, but today he didn't feel in the talkative mood. Now he had to sit across a table from him. Sighing, hard, he climbed to his feet and headed for the door.

Buck was about to call again, when a slim body appeared in the twilight. The slump of the shoulders and the unusual slow walk bothered Wilmington. He wished Vin would tell him was what wrong. He returned to the stove and ladled the simmering beef stew onto some buttered biscuits in twin bowls.

"Smells good," Vin said, shutting the door.

He paused and allowed his eyes to roam over the large room. No matter when he came inside, he never got tired of this room; it was like getting a warm hug from an old friend. The alluring colors of the desert scored this fine room. Soft tans, browns and sages, dusted by turquiose and coral. From the large stone hearth, across the floor to the oversized leather sofas and the comfortable chairs by the large window, it beckoned every visitor. He saw Buck exiting the large kitchen and heading for the long table in the dining area.

"I hope you're hungry, there's plenty," Buck answered, returning to the kitchen. As he was filling a basket with biscuits, he felt Vin move behind him. He watched Vin gingerly washing his face. "How's the jaw?"

"S'okay." Vin shrugged, taking the butter, honey and some napkins.

"Well, I hope it's up to chewin' by Sunday night, because we're gonna celebrate our sale with a pile of thick steaks."

Vin didn't reply, he took his seat and began to eat. Buck left briefly to get a jug of cider an two mugs. Vin was three spoons in when he noticed how small the beef was cut. Moving his spoon through the tasty stew, he noticed the carrots and potatoes were cut smaller than usual too. He brought his head up slowly and felt a flush of guilt. He'd gone out of his way to ignore Buck all day to the point of being rude. And the man had taken extra time, despite having to be exhausted, to cut up the food so his jaw wouldn't be bothered.

"Somethin' wrong with the stew?" Buck asked, seeing Vin eyeing him over a spoonful of gravy and meat.

"No..." Vin answered, swallowing the savory mix.

He took a long swig of cider and licked the residue off his lip. Buck looked tired and no wonder. He'd taken care of Chris most of Wednesday night and a good part of Thursday. Late last night they'd loaded the wagon with supplies and rode here. He'd been up and working on the corral early.

"Listen, I'm sorry about... well, I ain't been the best company all day."

"No, son, you sure as hell haven't been," Buck chuckled, dipping his buttered biscuit into the gravy. "but that's okay Vin, you're entitled."

"Tired as ya are, ya cut the stuff up so's m'jaw wouldn't hurt," Vin paused, finding a tired smile. "Thanks, Bucklin."

"Ah," Buck denied, warmed by the nickname Vin reserved for him. "It made the meat and all that go further."

Vin completed his meal and took the dishes to the creek to clean up. When he got back, he came inside the back door, put the dishes on the sink to dry and headed for the coffee. He didn't see Buck, so he took his mug outside. The porch ran the length of the building and had a good sturdy rail. The chairs and small tables that were lined up came from Josiah's own hand. He settled into a chair, eyeing the stars overhead. He was beginning to think Chris was right. Maybe Inez was the right woman. But until he cleared his name, he could not share his bed or name with any woman. His thoughts were on his problem when the lantern on the wall next to the door was lit.

"I know you'd rather have Chris standin' here," Buck offered quietly, "but somethin's eatin' at you, Vin and if you need to talk about it..."

"Thanks, Buck," Vin answered, biting on his lower lip a bit. Buck had a heart the size of Texas and the depth it held never ceased to amaze Vin. "Tell ya the truth, I ain't sure m'self what's wrong. M'own skin's botherin' me."

"Well, maybe the town's gettin' too close," Buck thought. "It's been a rough few days, maybe gettin' away will do you good."

"Mebbe," Vin agreed, tapping his empty mug against the post and rising. "Long day t'morra, I'm gonna turn in. Night Buck."

"Night Vin," Buck answered, then got an evil twinkle in his eyes, "You know Vin, it's a full moon tonight. Makes them Tanner eyes of yours shine brighter. Might get awfully chilly in that bed alone."

"Temptin," Vin grinned, hitching his thumbs in his waistband. "But we gotta be on the road early and I'd wear ya out til noon."

"Humble, aren't you?" Buck laughed and saw the brown eyebrows wag. Vin tapped his crotch with his hand and his grin grew.

"Texas growed," he bragged, taking Buck's infectious laughter with him.

Saturday morning
Devil's Fork, New Mexico

Chris chuffed out a very annoyed breath and shifted in the saddle. That slight motion caused him to hiss and bite his lip in pain. He'd done a fairly good job getting away from town. Nathan wasn't happy but he'd helped him get into the saddle. He knew it couldn't be more than twenty minutes or so, but he was already regretting it. His back was screaming and his side was throbbing. He didn't even want to think about heat the blistering burn was causing or the crushing headache. Buck stopped at Nathan's Thursday night and updated him, they'd agreed to this meeting place. It would save about an hour's time. Finally, he saw two riders approaching.

"It's about Goddamn time," he snapped. "What the hell were you two doing?"

"Good Morning to you, too, sunshine," Buck called out, wincing at the marred face. One eye was scarlett and purple but the swelling had gone down The left cheek was completely bruised and discolored. The stitches over the sandy eyebrow seemed to scream at him. He knew by the odd way Larabee was sitting he was in pain.

"Reckon we didn't have piss and vinegar fer breakfast," Vin greeted, pausing beside his best friend. "Ya look like shit, cowboy."

"Fuck you, Tanner," Chris snarled, annoyed at the grin Tanner flashed and Buck's soft laughter.

Wilmingon eyed both men, each suffering in a different way. Could be whatever was bothering Vin would come out easier with Chris riding next to him. For the blond, it was just too hard to look at him in that much pain. He tipped his hat and rode a bit ahead.

Vin and Chris rode in compatible silence for awhile. Vin kept eyeing Chris from under the brim of his hat. If Grovers Pass wasn't so close to town, he'd have never agreed to this. Larabee looked rough and the gait of the horse wasn't helping those ribs or back. He knew by the tension line working up Chris's jaw that he was suffering. He slowed his pace a bit and paused to get a drink from his canteen. He capped it and replaced it, wiping the excess from his lip. He moved his finger over his lips, recalling all too well the sweet sensation of Inez's mouth upon them.

Chris looked back when Vin didn't reappear next to him. He frowned and watched Vin shifting in his saddle. They rode for awhile longer and he kept noticing that Vin seemed to be having a problem. Either Vin had a saddlesore or something else bothering his ass.

"You got fire ants in them drawers?"

"Huh?" Vin blinked, drawn back from the hot daydream he'd been lost in. He saw Larabee gazing at him oddly.

"I thought Inez took good care of you. You hiding something?" Chris quizzed, thinking that maybe Nathan missed an injury.

"No," Vin rasped, gripping the saddlehorn tighter. "She took care o'me alright."

Chris added up the clues before him, including the slight flush of color now gracing Vin's cheeks. So that was it. Vin had been helpless in Inez's bed with the pretty woman tending to him. No wonder his pants felt too tight. Or maybe something unexpected happened and Vin didn't know how to handle it.

"Something happen between you two?"

"No... yeah... hell..." Vin hissed, shaking his head. "Not at first, jest a couple kisses. But later, I come inta the kitchen fer some grub and she was on a stool, reachin' up high. The stool tipped over and I tried t'catch her. We got all tangled up on the floor."

"Well, it's about time," Chris commented.

"It wasn't like that," Vin disclaimed, "Jest some kissin' and gropin' and such."

"And such?" Chris drew up and shoved his hat back.

"I tried t'git up and her chest got stuck under m'hand."

"You do have style, Tanner," Larabee laughed.

"It ain't funny. Before I knew it, I had m'hands all over her and she's gropin' m'ass and I damn near swallowed her tongue."

"Hell, there's nothing wrong with that, Vin."

"Sure there is!" He pulled up and sighed hard, shaking his head. "She ain't some cheap whore, she's special. I want it t'be special, not on the floor in the store room."

"Okay, well when we get back, take her to supper. Or ask her to go riding and take a picnic. "

"Hell, Chris, I ain't never felt like this about a woman. I can't eat'r sleep, I itch all the time, damn near ready t'jump outta m'skin. I can't stop thinkin' about her."

"She's worth it, Vin," Chris suggested, recognizing the signs of new love. "Are you in love with her?"

Vin frown, sighed, made a face and sighed again. He shrugged and gripped the reins harder.

"The boys weren't real happy, they're still sassin' me."

"I'll bet," Chris laughed, eyeing Vin shifting in the saddle. "It's gonna be a long weekend for them damn boys of yours."

"Thanks," Vin sent back with a surly tone. "Yer all heart."

Grovers Pass came into view when they crested the last hill. The once small mining town was growing by leaps and bounds. One large main artery now had several side streets sprouting off of it and holding new businesses and homes. There was a church on the edge of town and a small school. A town hall had been built and dotting the surrounding hills were homes from new homesteaders.

Buck was waiting at the entry to the Brambles, a hotel at the end of Main Street. He took the reins of Larabee's horse and secured it, before reaching an arm up.

"Unless you want to be a lefty for about four weeks, I wouldn't," Larabee advised with a glare.

Buck ignored the threat to bodily harm and grabbed Chris's elbow. He heard the groan and felt the strength the man possessed. A lesser man would not have staggered with a slight knee buckle, he'd have passed out by now. But the blond grit his teeth, took a few breaths and shoved past Buck, gripping the hitching post.

"I'll see ya down there," Vin decided, taking his and Larabee's horses. He would board them at the livery with Buck's. He was in no shape to argue with Chris, Buck knew him longer and had more patience.

"You hungry?" Buck asked and the head shook in a negative motion. "Okay, well we got a half hour, I'll buy you a drink."

Chris followed Buck very slowly up the street. It wasn't far to the saloon but it seemed like five miles. His back had long crossed over the pain threshold and his side was throbbing. He wasn't sure how much longer the blistering burns could stand the scratchy cloth covering them. By the time he managed to get his body through the batwing doors, the larger man was seated and a pretty dark-haired barmaid wearing almost nothing was siding up next to him, whispering in his ear.

"Well now, darlin', old Buck could find a whole lotta ways to pleasure you, but I'm a little busy now. How about you and me gettin' better acquainted later on?"

"I'll make myself available," she purred, cupping his chin and then slipping a hand under his shirt to massage his chest.

"Bring me a bottle to kill the pain," Buck ordered, kissing the woman's hand when it reluctantly left his chest. "Damn... that hurts."

"Hell, we ain't even had time to shake the trail dust off," Chris marveled.

"Well, stud, we all have our gifts, I just happen to have a natural ability to attract women," Wilmington noted, smiling up at her when she put a bottle and two glasses down. She bent down and whispered something in his ear that caused him to blush.

"No kiddin'? Hell, there's a first time for everything."

"Your money's no good here," Chris denied, shoving Buck's coin back and tipping the girl with two pieces of silver.

Buck nodded, that was Larabee's way of thanking him. They down a shot each and then he studied the pain radiating every inch of the lean man next to him.

"You sure you're up to this, it could be a couple hours yet."

"Got this far," Larabee replied, tossing down another shot.

"Between you and Vin it's gonna be a long night," Buck commiserated.

"You won't be lonely," Chris predicted, watching the first barmaid whispering to another one and nodding at Buck. "You never are."

"I'll drink to that," Buck exclaimed, toasting his luck.

Vin was standing on a raised platform just shy of the stage near the corral. He saw his friends approach and moved over. His eyes were trained on the beautiful animals moving restlessly in the corral, their heads tossing nobly. They came in a variety of sizes and colors, from white and gray, through chestnut and brown to the pitch black. There were close to twenty horses that would be auctioned throughout the afternoon. The trio that they'd entered were among the finest in the lot. Vin was proud of that, not just for rescueing the abused animals and giving them a new life, but for having something to hold onto. The ranch and the hope it brought was destined for more than just the rescued horses. It had given him something tangible that he'd not had in years.

"Sure is pretty," Chris observed, always an admirer of horses.

"Yup," Vin agreed as the barker, a tall man with short black hair sporting a bright red coat banged the gavel.

"Welcome gentlemen, dust off your silver!" He proclaimed, nodding to his assistant who brought forth a golden palimino.

And so it began. By the time three o'clock came, they'd sold their three horses and not a moment too soon. Chris was ready to drop over. While Buck collected the money, Vin kept pace with his staggering friend. Halfway to the hotel, Larabee swayed and Vin grabbed his arm.

"You got a deathwish?" Larabee asked, trying to pull his arm free. He didn't miss the people on the street eyeing him staggering.

"No," Vin answered, gripping the elbow tighter and propellling the wheezing body towards the front door of the hotel. "Yer ma birth a fool?"

"I'm fine," Chris maintained, but by the time they were through the lobby and headed for the room, he leaned heavily on his smaller friend.

"I can tell," Vin sassed, unlocking the door and shoving Chris inside. "Git yer clothes off and git in that bed."

"Real romantic fool, aren't you, Tanner. Inez don't know what she's missing." He got the duster off and the holster, but sat down hard, grabbing the bedpost. "Christ..." he hissed and the room began to fade away.

"Hmmph," Vin grumbled, "Hard-headed, goddamn yella-haired jackass..."

He shoved Chris backwards, tugged the boots off and then hauled him back up by the collar. He leaned the dozing body against the bedboard and unbuttoned the shirt. By the time he got Chris's shirt off, he was tired. He got the salve from the saddlebag and put it along with clean bandages by the bed. He cut the dirty bandages off and frowned, eyeing the gooey mess over the burns.

"Vin?" Buck called out, kicking at the door. " Open up..."

"Hold on," Vin answered, shuffling slowly and getting the door open. He stepped aside to let Buck come in. The taller man was carrying a large pot of hot water.

"What's that?" Vin asked.

"It's to mix with that herbal shit of Nathan's. It goes in a bag and under his back. " Buck panted, putting the steaming pot down. "I'll mix it up, you get his shoulder cleaned up."

By the time Vin was done cleaning up the gooey mess and using soap and water, Buck was done. Vin carefully dabbed at the burns and used the funny, flat wooden stick Nathan packed to apply new salve. He sighed hard and rubbed his head, he wasn't sure why he had a headache.

"Next bed, slick," Buck advised, tapping the blue shirted back. "You got a concussion, remember? It's gonna be a few more days. Get some sleep. "

Vin was too tired and his eyes hurt too much to argue. He got his boots off and stretched out on the bed. He watched for a moment as Buck wrapped Chris's shoulder. The blond must have roused a bit and threatened Buck, who cursed at him and shoved the blond head down again. The last thing Vin saw was Buck waving at him.

"Sweet dreams," Buck called out as Tanner's eyes finally shut. "Don't know who's got a harder head. "

Once the hot pac was applied under Larabee's back, he woke up again. He studied Buck cleaning up and pausing over Vin. His mustached friend was wearing a frown. One hand went to Vin's forehead, before tugging a thin blanket up to his chest.

"He okay?"

"Wore out," Buck answered, "Nate said this would happen. He'll be fine. I'll be back in a few hours. We'll get dinner, okay?"

"Yeah," Chris answered, "How'd we do?"

"Four hundred and eighty five," Wilmington bragged and hooted, thumping his hand on his thigh. "I got a receipt, they're gonna wire it to town. " He paused by the door, eyeing the sleeping Tanner and the moaning Larabee.

"We did good, Bucko," Chris assessed.

"We sure as hell did," Buck exclaimed. "You know Chris, this ranch thing, it feels pretty damn good. You and Vin... well... sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky."

Chris just smiled then, nobody had a larger heart than Buck or was a better friend. "Speaking of lucky, aren't you late for an afternoon romp?"

"Shit!" Buck straightened up, "The day is young and this dog needs to howl!"

Chris just laughed and settled back, letting the heat caress his skin. He would find some way to thank Nathan for all he'd done. This herbal concoction alone was saving him a lot of grief. He thought of that vacant building at the end of the main street at home. It was much larger than the clinic and at street level, no more stairs. It had three rooms off the main one and a small apartment in the back. He'd talk to the judge about it, Nathan deserved as much.

By seven, Vin and Chris were rested, revived and dressed. Buck arrived just as they exited the hotel.

"Well, you look almost human again," he teased the blond. "The cafe at the corner has the best grub in town."

"Good," Chris answered. "Anything but oatmeal or soup."

After sharing a good dinner, more than a few laughs and outlining some plans for the future expansion of the Hope Ranch, the trio headed for the saloon to celebrate their success. They found a table and by the time they were seated, Buck's new friends appeared with a bottle and three glasses.

"There's my angels!" Buck cooed, accepting a kiss from the 'shy' blonde who was on his right, the brunette was on his left . "Shame you boys were sleepin' this afternoon. We found a much better way to break in a bed."

Vin groaned and rolled his eyes, while Chris felt a hand massage his shoulder. A redhead slightly older than the other two made her invite known.

"I'll pass," Chris answered of the silent request she was giving. "I'm too busted up to do anything but drink."

"Here's to the start of something big," Buck exlaimed, tapping each of the other glasses.

"Looks like ya lost yer harem," Vin stated, tossing down a shot and taking the refill offered. The smoke in the saloon was thick, giving him a headache. He felt his face screwing up.

"Not for long," Buck stated. "The girls get done at ten and then we got a long night planned." He saw the Texan wince and shift in his seat and misread it. "Well, hell son, you were alone and naked in Inez's bed, you had an open invite right there."

"I don't go stickin' m'pole in everythin' wearin' a skirt," Vin hissed, slamming the glass down and fisting both hands. "I ain't totin' yer name."

"Take it easy, Vin," Chris soothed, realizing Buck had no idea what fire he'd ignited. He doubted Vin did either. He made the mistake of reaching out to grab at the fisted hand.

"I ain't yer child," Vin snarled, shoving off the hand and stalking off.

"What the hell just happened?" Buck asked, turning back to face Chris after Vin disappeared into the night.

"You touched a nerve, Buck." Chris sipped at his whiskey and wondered how to difuse the walking powerkeg.

"A nerve..." Buck's voice trailed off and he drew his brows together, recalling his words. One name lingered and he added up other clues. "Inez?" He guessed and saw the blond head dip. "Shit, I didn't know he was seein' her."

"He's not... he should be... he's all fired up about it..."

"I'm sorry, Chris, I'll go after him," Buck offered and stood but had his arm gripped.

"Leave it go for now," the blond suggested but held Buck's gaze. "Now you know. I rode him a little hard about it this afternoon. He needs to do some thinking and I don't think he needs us prodding him."

Part Four

Sunday Morning
Grovers Pass

The cafe was not crowded, most of the diners had gotten breakfast earlier. It was now after ten and it had taken an exceptionally long time for Chris to get moving. Although he'd taken a good dose of laudenum the night before and gotten over ten hours of sleep, the hot bath he just left felt like a miracle. He wasn't as stiff or sore and felt better for the first time in days.

He eyed Vin slouched on a bench outside the cafe. He'd left as Tanner woke up, agreeing to meet for breakfast. Vin had been gone for awhile the night before, arriving back in the room very late, after Chris had gone to bed. The moody Texan didn't offer where he'd gone and Chris didn't ask.

A waitress appeared with coffee and a basket of cinnamon rolls. Larabee's eyebrow went up in surprise when the notorius sweet-toothed Texan's hand didn't grab for one. He directed his eyes to the blackboard where the breakfast specials were written.

"Hotcakes, Eggs with peppers, onions and cheese with potatoes, Hot cereal, and eggs over easy with bacon." He paused and eyed the vacant chair. "I guess we shouldn't wait on Buck."

"Most likely he's still pirootin' with them painted cats," Vin rasped, dumping an abnormal amount of sugar in his coffee. He didn't have to look up to know the face next to him was distasteful. "Shut up, Larabee."

"I didn't say a word," Chris defended and pulled his mug closer for protection.

"...heard ya clear as dirt," Vin decided, as the waitress appeared. "Mornin' Ma'am, I'll have the hotcakes. Can I have some taters with that?"

"I can check," she said, writing down the order. Then she looked down and saw the large blue eyes.

"Oh, no, Ma'am, don't go t'any trouble."

"It's no trouble, sugar." She winked and smiled at the handsome young man. "How about some onions and peppers fried with them taters?"

"Reckon that'd go down real easy." Vin flashed her a winning smile.

"I'll have the peppers and eggs," Chris ordered and waited until she left and put on his best Tannerfied accent "Aw, hell, Ma'am, iffen ain't t'much trouble, kin I have some pie, cookies or yer daughter iffen she's available?"

"Shut up!" Vin laughed, "I ain't hardly that bad."

"I don't know how you do that," Larabee thought aloud, sipping his hot beverage. "WIthout even tryin', they end up wantin' to marry you or adopt you."

"Can't help it if women like t'fuss over me."

Vin reached for a cinnamon roll and was applying butter on it. He began to discuss the ride home. He didn't notice that Chris had riveted his eyes to the window. If he'd looked up, he'd seen a smile of pure bliss painted with nostalgia on the blond's lips. The kind of smile that goes right down to your soul and stirs up memories that you'll never forget.

"Damn..." Chris whispered, watching through the glass until the object of his attention was out of sight.

Buck ate in the saloon, it wasn't very good but it would do until he got back to the ranch. He saw Chris and Vin go into the cafe and he felt bad about parting on a sour note with Vin. He would apologize but decided it was too awkward in a public restaurant with three of them at a table. He had the horses ready and waited on the boardwalk until he saw them exit the eatery.

"Was wonderin' if you'd show up," Chris greeted, eyeing Buck's shirt buttoned too high with a kerchief tied over the collar. "Looks like them cats got you good."

"You'll never know," Buck teased, then lost his smile when Vin's head rose up. "Listen, Vin, I'm sorry about last night. I was out of line."

"I was a bit t'quick on the draw, Bucklin," Vin offered with his hand. "O'course a chocolate cake would help ease the pain."

"We ain't got any chocolate at the ranch." Buck was relieved at the firm shake. He clapped the younger man's back and swung into the saddle.

"Sure we do, " Vin replied, getting on his horse. "I keep it stocked with m'bullets."

"That's my sharpshooter," Chris bragged and grinned at the odd look on Buck's face.

"Ya need a hand?" Buck asked, wondering why Larabee wasn't moving towards his horse.

"No, I'm fine. I'm not leaving."

"Ya hurtin'?" Vin fretted. He thought Larabee was doing better.

"I'm fine, Vin, I spotted an old friend." Chris's gaze lingered on the hotel across the street.

"And it wouldn't be polite not to say hello, would it?" Buck guessed, reading the intense gaze too well.

"No, it wouldn't." Chris grinned, "You know how important manners are to me." He frowned when Vin began to cough. "Something stuck in your throat, Tanner?"

"Naw," Vin managed, swiveling in the saddle to eye the hotel. "She a looker?"

"You even gotta ask?"" Buck answered, "Maybe we ought to hang around and meet her. She might like to meet your friends."

"Maybe not," Chris decided, nodding to the road. "Bye."

"Could be ya might need some help," Vin decided and his mouth quirked. "I could step in when yer old ass passes out."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll manage." Larabee found a sly grin.and winked at them ."I do some pretty good work on my back. Buck isn't the only stud in the barn."

"I'll chalk that up to your concussion," Buck laughed, "You may be good, but you're no Wilmington." He moved up and clapped Vin's back. "Let's go, slick, the old man needs a lot of room to manuever his boys into action."

"That's one bet you'd lose," Chris argued with a coy grin.

"How long ya gonna be?" Vin asked.

"Hard to tell, but I'm not gonna rush. Don't look for me for a few days, I'll send word." He reached up and grasped the tracker's forearm. Then with a nod, they rode off.

Chris made his way slowly across the street, stopping at the desk first to inquire on the room. Then he went to his room to freshen up. He put on a clean shirt and combed his hair. He winced at the marred face and cursed his timing. He found the room easy enough. He tapped on the door and the voice that answered took him back in time, across a lot of miles and almost twenty years.

"Yes?"

"The fella in town at the paper said you're looking to hire on a hand for the summer."

She caught her breath and her hand went to her throat. It couldn't be, not after all these years. She moved to the mirror to eye the face, hoping that time would be kind. Would he still see the farmer's wife who'd hired on a lean blond twenty-year old one warm May afternoon? Had it been that long since that hot summer that turned into a bittersweet autumn? Taking a long breath, she ran a hand over her pinned up curls and then moved it to calm the butterflies dancing in her stomach. With great trepidation, she moved to the door. Her heart was pounding and her throat was dry. She took a breath and opened the door.

"Chris..."

Her voice died in her throat. The boy who left her farm that fateful day had grown into a tall, virle and handsome man. She never forgot him or that summer. She often wondered what happened to him. She couldn't believe he was standing here in front of her.

"Hello, Grace."

He smiled then and took his hat off. The years had been kind to her. He did the quick math and realized she was about fifty now, but she looked forty or younger. Still slim with a great shape, her auburn curls were still lush and dying to be tangled in his fingers. Those brown eyes were still warm enough to light a fire inside. He'd never forgotten the beautiful young widow who'd hired on a inexperienced boy and turned him into a man. The mint green robe accented her coloring. She had been changing for some reason. He saw two large bags to the side, traveling bags.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh... sure... where are my manners..." She moved aside. "I was changing..."

The door shut behind her and she leaned back against it, grateful it was there to hold her up. Chris had moved inside, past her and was eyeing the room. He was lean and the black jeans didn't hide much. She'd never had a lover like him, not in all the years that followed. She closed her eyes and recalled how sweet the hay in the barn smelled when they shared that first encounter. She still remembered the sensation of his sweat clinging to her and his kisses.

Chris tossed his hat onto the chair and turned around. It was a large room, a suite as a matter of fact. The room they were in was a sitting room with a sofa, table and chairs. In the next room he could see a large bed. The wallcovering was expensive, silk with pale peach roses. A room like this cost a lot of money. His eyes went from the crystal lamp to her face.

"God, you're beautiful," he said huskily, walking closer. The clerk had said she checked in alone. He cupped her chin and tipped her face up, then bent down and kissed her.

She moaned and moved instictively, melting in his arms. Her lips parted and her knees when weak when his tongue ravished her mouth. She felt his hands move up her back and tug at the hairpins. She shook her head and sent the curls down her back.

"Still like a waterfall, I could drown here," Chris murmured, pressing his face into the side of her head. He moved his lips past her ear and began to nibble at the silken skin on her neck.

"Oh God..." Grace managed, pulling back. She winced at the bruised face. She reached up to touch his cheek.

"I'm normally much prettier," Chris quipped, tugging the sash on her gown and moving his hands up her waist. He kissed her again, cupping her breast and thumbing the rosy nub until her knees buckled.

"We shouldn't do this," she suggested, tugging at the buttons on his jeans, while he continued to caress her. The robe fell off and she stepped free of it. "The stage leaves in a half hour."

"Damn shame." His teeth met her neck, while his hand ran down her thigh and inside her legs.

"The next one... " she gasped at the hot touch. "...for... Denver... isn't until... Thursday..."

She tugged his shirt out of his pants and leaned in, accepting a kiss and running her hands over his warm flesh.

"I can think of something to keep you busy," Chris growled and continued to torment her flesh. Then her hands hit a tender area on his back and it felt like a knife. He hissed and pulled back.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, some animal did, he's dead now." Chris took her hand and led her towards the bedroom. He paused in the doorway and drank in her beauty. "I can do most anything Mrs. Callison, if I can't you can show me."

"I think you'll do just fine, Chris Larabee," she recalled the first conversation they'd shared. She pushed the shirt off and frowned at the bandages. "Are you sure you can..."

Chris ended that thought with a searing kiss. He pulled her so close that she felt the heat from his loins. His hands moved down her back, then cupped her backside. He held fast and ground into her. He tossed her back on the bed and looked down at her. Her hair was fanned out and her lips bruised from the ambush. Her perfect skin was rosy with passion and her loins glistened in anticipation.

"That answer your question?"

She rolled over when he sat down. She saw him wince and grab his ribs. She scooted off the bed and knelt before him. She took each boot off and he stood up, stepping out of the tight pants.

"Looks like you're in a bit of discomfort there, son. Maybe I can help?"

Chris laughed at the coy smile peering up at him from under his passion. He laid back on the bed and she moved on top of him. She kissed him then, long and wet and let her talented teeth and lips wreak havoc on his chest and limbs. The heat was about to explode when she moved on him, riding him hard.

"You haven't lost your touch, Mis...sus... Call...i...s...on..." he panted and exploded inside her.

Later, resting against him with a quilt pulled over them, she sighed at the tender hand caressing her back. His fingers were drawing lazy circles and she was purring with content. She heard the stage pull out and chuckled.

"I'm sorry about that Mrs. Callison," Chris whispered, kissing the auburn crown. Her head popped up then with a devilish grin. "Looks like you missed your stage."

"You're a naughty boy, Chris Larabee." She slapped the side of his backside and crept up. Then she knelt over him, running a finger over his lips. He caught one and sucked on it hard, causing her to grin. "You'll have to be punished."

She used the silk stockings that had been peeled off and were hanging on the bedpost to tie his wrists to the side of the bed. She was wary of the shoulder and was careful. She straddled him and wiggled just right, causing him to grunt and toss his head.

Chris groaned and pressed his head back into the pillow when she kissed, nibbled and bit her way down his chest and toward his groin. It didn't take long for his passion to rouse again.

Being a prisoner was hell.

Sunday, Three p.m.
Hope Ranch

It was a quiet ride back home. Buck was slightly ahead of Vin and paused at the crest of the hill overlooking the ranch. He never got tired of looking at the sign with the words 'Hope Ranch' forged in bold letters. Seeing the beautiful ranch house and corral sprawled before him still made him sit up a bit straighter in the saddle.

"Sure is pretty," Vin commented.

"Never gets old, does it?"

"Nope." Vin lifted his head a bit and rode closer to the hillside. He recognized the horses in the corral. "Hey, looks like we got company."

"It's Sunday, Vin," Buck whooped, "That means Josiah's been cookin' up a storm."

Vin sniffed the air, closed his eyes and held his right hand out. "Chicken, taters, biscuits and some kinda pie, mebbe peach." He paused and nodded thoughtfully, "Yup with a lil' cinnamon."

Buck's eyes narrowed as the tracker rode ahead, slowing his gait as they went down the hill. "You're full of shit Vin!"

"Bust the moths outta yer pocket," Vin called back. "Five says I'm right."

Ezra was enjoying a peach brandy by the window and saw the riders approaching. JD and Nathan were playing checkers and Josiah was putting a pie in the oven. He'd never admit it, but he truly enjoyed their Sundays together here. They usually enjoyed a lazy afternoon, sometimes with a bit of encouragement, JD and Vin would race their horses around the ranch. Josiah usually made a fine supper and after, they broke out the liquor , cards and cigars. He was puzzled by the count of two rather than three.

"It would appear out numbers have diminished," he stated, recognizing the horses first. "Our illustrious leader is missing."

"I told him not t'go!" Nathan commented, moving his red piece over two of JD's black ones. "He wasn't ready for a trip like that."

"And I made Spanish Green beans, his favorite," Sanchez noted.

"More for me," Dunne exclaimed.

A few moments later, they all turned towards the door when Buck and Vin entered. Vin felt Nathan's eyes before he could get his hat off.

"M'fine, Ma!" He proclaimed, hanging his coat on the peg by the door and putting his hat on the shelf over it. The gunbelt came off next, on a hook beside the coat rack.

"Where's Chris?" Josiah asked.

"I'll bet he's flat on his back," Nathan guessed and then was confused when both Buck and Vin grinned.

"Well, you'd be right," Buck chuckled, "and I'm guessin' he's gonna be flat on his back for a few more days."

"Or bareback ridin'," Vin touted, heading for the kitchen.

"Is he okay?" Nate asked, eyeing the twin grins suspiciously.

"Well." Buck cast his eye on the clock on the mantle. "By now, I'd say that stud is having a nice siesta."

"Bareback riding?" Dunne quizzed, "Chris was barely able to handle the horse with a saddle."

"A siesta?" Josiah's head came up and a grin began to form. Without his eyes leaving Buck and the others, he snapped his right hand out to slap Vin's hand.

"Ow!" Vin yelped, jerking his hand back

"That's what you get for being sneaky," Josiah answered. "You don't get dessert until you eat."

"Aw, hell," Vin complained, eyeing the small tarts cooling on the windowsill. Josiah didn't waste any pie crust. He made the little bits leftover from the larger crusts into small ones and filled them with chopped nuts, molasses and sugar. "They was callin' me..."

"I suggest you tell them you'll see them later," Sanchez replied, "So Chris is havin' a siesta, good for him. Nothin' more pleasurable than a Sunday afternoon siesta."

"Quite!" Ezra agreed, raising his glass. "Bareback riding indeed!"

"I don't get it?" JD's head swiveled from one to the other. "What's the big deal about wastin' an afternoon alone with a horse and taking a nap ?"

"He isn't alone son, he's in the company of a woman." Standish raised his glass ." And if I know Mister Larabee, most likely a very comely one."

"He's with a woman?" Dunne's voice went up a notch.

"Jesus, I hope so," Buck laughed, "JD sometimes you're greener than the grass in the pasture."

"Shut up, Buck!" Dunne felt his face flaming.

"So, I'm guessin' ya ain't had many siestas," Nathan teased, double-jumping JD again.

"Sure I have... sort of..."

"Sorta?" Vin laughed, snatching a mini-tart, "Ya either had or ya ain't, kid, there ain't no halfway."

"Guess you ain't the expert rider you said you were, " Buck ribbed.

"JD, ya best quit while b'fore ya hit purple," Jackson laughed at the deepening color.

"So who is the lady in question?" Josiah asked, putting plates around the large table.

"We didn't see her," Buck said, "But Chris sure got worked up. Said he won't be back for a few days or more."

"That's a helluva siesta," Sanchez grinned, turning to lift a large lid on the stove. He dished out the Spanish green beans into a large bowl. Then he opened the oven and took out a large dish full of chicken. Underneath the succulent meat was a bed of seasoned carrots and potatoes. Biscuits were already done and on the table.

"Give it over," Vin demanded, flashing a palm at Wilmington.

"Carrots and beans!" Buck defended , eyeing the bounty. "You didn't say anything about carrots and beans."

"It was 'plied!" Vin shot back and saw Buck's face screw up. "Plied?" He turned to Ezra, "Translation?"

"Implied," Standish offered, being the expert on Vinspeak.

The six gathered at the table and shared the delicious meal along with some lively banter. JD, of course, was the prime target but the youth withheld the barbs well. Twilight came and Vin went outside, taking his coffee to wait for the sunset. A few moments later he heard boots on the porch and knew the tread. Buck still felt bad about teasing Vin on their way out of town. He took the seat next to the Texan and sprawled his legs out. It was a cool evening and the colors in the sky were beautiful. As if sensing his thoughts, the younger man turned to him.

"No call fer that," Vin spoke quietly.

"I am sorry, Vin," Buck's voice was contrite. He sipped his coffee and kept an eye on the quiet tracker.

"It ain't yer fault," Vin admitted, sighing and shaking his head. "I ain't fittin' in m'skin these days. Can't sleep, can't think right when I'm awake." He paused and chuffed a bit. "T'many colored dreams."

"Ouch!" Buck chuckled, toasting that with his mug. "You got it, son."

"Got what?"

For a moment, Vin looked at young as JD and that gave the older and wiser Wilmington a grin. He slapped Vin's thigh lightly and his brows wagged. "A wound from Cupid's arrow."

"Don't start," Tanner denied, "Yer as bad as Lar'bee."

"Ain't no shame in falling in love with a beautiful woman, Vin. Hell, you'd have to be blind not to see she's got an eye for you."

"I can't... I gotta git rid o'this feelin'."

"It ain't done like, Vin," Buck advised, "It's not like a thorn you can pull out and patch the cut. Matters of the heart are a whole lot more complicated."

"I got a price on m'head, Bucklin," Vin rasped, sagging down as the full weight of his bounty hit his frame. "If someone came gunnin' and she got hurt..."

"Well, Vin, maybe it's time you got that fixed. Why don't you talk to the Judge? He's a fair man, Vin, he knows folks in Texas."

"I don't know," he hedged, then felt a hand on his back. He sighed then, relishing the warmth it brought.

"You ain't alone, Vin, you got us. Just think about it. I'll go with you if you want. I know Chris will. Hell, I bet there's a few women in Texas who I haven't been acquainted with yet. Could be time to start a line of the family down south."

Vin laughed then, shook his head and sat back, feeling the load lessen up. It was good to have brothers like Buck, who would carry that weight with you. Maybe talking to the Judge wasn't a bad idea. If it meant he and Inez could have a future together, it was worth a try.

Grovers Pass
Three p.m

The scent of something wonderful tickled his nose and drew his heavy eyes open. Like a sated cat, he stretched and yawned, allowing the warm sun to bask his skin. He eyed the pretty roses on the wallpaper and the pretty chair by the window. A single silk stocking was thrown on the seat. His wolfish grin appeared as he recalled the wild lovemaking. She was still a very generous lover who'd schooled him well in the ways of pleasuring a woman. Tools he honed over the years and still used.

The soft clatter of something hitting china drew his eye from the pretty bedroom. He sat up and groaned, putting a hand on his shoulder. Although the wound was healing, the stitches pulled. His back wasn't too sore but sore enough. His full bladder drew him to his feet.

"Don't," she called through the room. "I'm going to feed you in bed."

"Somethings can't wait," Chris deferred, frowing a bit as he looked for the chamberpot

Grace put down the tray of cheese and grinned, watching his confusion. She moved to the doorway and began to chuckle.

"It won't be so funny when I fill that expensive vase and you have to pay for it," Larabee answered.

"It's that door over there with the rose on it."

Chris cast a skeptial eye on the dark wooden door in the corner with a single rose painted on it. Curious, he moved over and turned the handle. Inside was a wooden bench and a porcelin seat. The fragrance of roses hit him immediately. On the side wall was a rack with a newspaper. On the other side was a roll of thin white paper.

"Shit!" He marveled.

"That's the idea," she laughed. "Use the roll, not the newspaper."

Outside the watercloset was a sink with a pitcher of water and a basin. There was a bowl with pleasant scented soaps and he washed his healing face and upper chest gingerly. He turned to see where his clothes were thrown as she was entering the room carrying a tray.

"I'm not dressed yet," he argued, eyeing the chicken pot pie, small fruit and cream tarts, cheese, grapes and wine."

"Now that would be a waste," she purred, nodding to the bed. "Climb back in, you'll need a full meal."

"Oh, really?" He growled lightly, padding back to bed. He sat back on the bed, resting against the pillows. The tray was deposited over his lap and he reached for the spoon, only to have his hand slapped.

"You worked hard all morning," she pressed, sitting next to him. "Besides, I don't want you wearing yourself out. You should save your energy for better things."

"I'll drink to that!" He touted, taking a glass of wine. "How are you Mrs. Callison?"

"Actually." She paused to deposit a spoon of chicken, peas, carrots and succulent gravy into his mouth. "It's Mrs. George Brown."

"How long?"

"Oh, about fifteen years now. It was too hard to hold onto the farm, I sold it and moved to Denver to be closer to my sister. She took ill one winter and died. She had three young children and George was a nice enough man. I was a bit lonely."

"All the men in Denver are blind?" Chris countered and got a soft hand through his hair and a caress.

"Thanks for that," she replied, handed the spoon over to him and poured herself some wine. She nibbled on some cheese and thought on the marriage. "My first husband, Ben, was my love match. When he died, a part of me died too. I just never found anyone..."

"I know about that," he agreed quietly. "I lost my wife and son a few years ago. Sara was..." He paused and looked to the window again unable to finish. A small hand on his cheek drew hiim back.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I can't imagine losing a child."

"I'm glad for that," he agreed. "So you married George because the kids needed a mother?" He swallowed a long draw of wine.

"Partially." She took a grape and slipped it between his lips. "I was getting older and the winters in Denver are very cold. About a year after she died, he asked me to marry him. I was a bit surprised but it hasn't been bad. He's done quite well, he's an investment banker. The children are all married and living close by. I have four grandchildren."

"That's great..."

"Yes, they are a great comfort. We don't... I mean... he has a mistress."

"He's a fuckin' idiot," Chris groused.

"He's a powerful man and like most men with money, he's a bit arrogant that way. She's very young, she works at the bank. He has a house for her on the other side of town. I travel and enjoy buying my antiques. That's what brought me down here, a couple we know in Denver were coming to Mexico to buy some antiques. They left two days ago for home, I'm glad I stayed on."

"Antiques won't keep you warm at night," Chris decided, finishing the pie and reaching for a cream tart.

"I'm not cold at night," she purred contentedly.

"Really?" He grinned, toasting her with his wine. "Good for you."

"He's a very handsome restaurantuer who wants no part of marriage. He's devoted to me, he travels with me sometimes. He went to Italy last summer to bury his mother and I left a week later for London, or so George thought." She moved off the bed and took the tray away. I spent the summer with him in Tuscany. It was lovely."

"You're lovely," He added, rolling her over when she sat down.

He made love to her slowly this time, using everything she'd taught him. He drank in the cries of ecstacy and worshipped her body until they were both sated, sleeping contentedly in each other's arms.

Tuesday Morning
Hope Ranch

JD finished the breakfast dishes, dried his hands and took two mugs of coffee to the other room. Buck, Josiah and Vin were sitting around the wide, low pine table in front of the hearth. He handed one mug to Josiah and kept the other one.

"They're all over the place and that canyon." Buck tapped the map west of town with his finger. "is a long ride."

"How we gonna handle this?" Vin asked, eyeing the map that Buck and Josiah were studying. "Two'r east, three r'west and two'r north."

"Me and Josiah can take the two at Red Deer and swing south and get the pair at Lynford." Wilmington turned to Tanner. "You and the kid head west and pick up the rest."

"Well," Josiah sighed, scratching his chin. "That's gonna leave us short in town. Ezra can't handle this alone."

"He won't have to," JD answered, "Craig McTavish said he'd pitch in. He'll stay in town until Friday, then he's got to get back to his ranch. And Sam Dickerson said he'd be around."

"I don't know 'im much, but he seems alright," Vin noted of the new man hired to work at the Grainery.

"I talked with him for quite awhile one night," Buck replied, "He's a good man. Okay, we'll I guess we got some packin' t'do."

"We'll meet back here Friday," Josiah said, "Me and Buck might get back first, you two have further to go."

"But we're younger," JD bragged, "We won't wear out as quick."

"You wanna live to brag about that another year, youngster, you''ll show some respect," Sanchez scolded, thwacking JD on the back of the head.

"Come on, kid, let's get the gear ready," Vin tossed to Dunne.

Part Five

Thursday afternoon
Grovers Pass

The week had gone by much too quickly. Chris couldn't believe she was packed and waiting for the porters to bring her luggage down. They were out front of the hotel, watching the other passengers get inside the stage.

They'd spent four days wrapped in a blanket of passion and nostalgia. Both knew this day would come and most likely, they'd never spend another night together. They'd gone riding, sharing the landscape and a very erotic picnic. They'd even camped out by the river one night and made love under the full moon. Maybe fate brought them together at this time and place. He'd been hurting inside and out and this sweet week had been a healing salve. He felt renewed, invigorated and grateful. The stage driver sprang to help the porter.

"Well," she whispered, swallowing hard. She turned to him and moved closer, taking time to caress his cheek. "Thank you my sweet Chris, for turning back the hands of time. That summer was the sweetest I've ever known."

"I'm the one who should thank you, Mrs. Callison. You were a helluva teacher," he recalled, pausing to kiss her hand. "I never forgot you or how much you gave of yourself."

"It's not Mrs. Callison," she began only to be cut off by a probing kiss. She moaned as his fingers seemed to burn right through the cloth above her hips where his hands were.

"It'll always be Mrs. Callison," he complimented huskily and brushed a finger through a rich auburn curl. He stared long and hard into her eyes then. "And it'll always be summer."

"Excuse me Ma'am," the driver interupted, "But we have to go."

"Yes, of course," she choked, not wanting to leave. She turned and didn't dare look back until she heard the door shut. Then as they pulled away, she glanced back and those mezmerizing green eyes held hers for a moment, then he turned away.

Chris got a few drinks at the saloon and enjoyed the savoring feeling that reminising brought. She was the first lover he'd had and one he'd never forget. Chance brought them together for these last five days and he would hold onto that wonderful feeling a bit longer. Originally, he thought he'd stay on and leave in the morning. But a part of him didn't want to be alone tonight. He decided to have a early supper and head home.

The cafe was empty when he got there, it was just past five o'clock and the supper crowd had not arrrived. He was glad of that, if he didn't have her to share his meal, he didn't want a crowd. They'd eaten here nearly every night and usually late over candlelight. He took a small table in the corner and the waitress arrived.

"Well, you're early," she noted cheerfully.

"Yeah," Chris replied curtly. "You have any steak?"

"Sure do," she answered, eyeing the empty place across from him. "You're alone?"

"She left on the stage."

"Oh." That did surprise her. She felt sure by the inimate posturing and conversation, the light in their eyes that they were together. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried."

"It's okay," Chris admitted, taking a drink of water. "I'm sorry too, she was special."

"I bet she feels the same way," she answered,

"Thanks," Chris accepted.

A hour later, he rode out and for nearly an hour more he had been making good time. Then he came to a halt. The path ahead was block by a large amount of debris. A large fallen tree and several rocks provided and impassible barrier. It was the only direct path he could take home.

"Shit!" he swore and turned the horse around. About five miles back there was a narrow fork in the road. He wasn't sure where it went but it ran parallel to this one, so it should take him to a point where he could cut over and pick it up again.

The road was dark and narrow, surrounded by high walls of a canyon. He rode for sometime, not seeing a single turnoff. It was getting dark and he was about to turn back, heading back to Grovers Pass when he spotted lights. Tiny white dots appeared before him in a valley. Riding closer, he got off his horse to havea look. There was a tent city below him He eyed the well established town of sorts. The tents were strong and expensive. The men he saw walking around were very well dressed. The place was neat, not a piece of trash littered the ground. There were no drunks or unsavory characters to be seen. He heard music and laughter coming from the largest tent. He was tired and sore, his still healing body needed rest. Riding back to Grovers Pass would take several hours. So he urged his horse onward, unaware he'd begun the descent into Hell.

Harry Simmons saw the rider approaching and nodded to Clive, who was across the street. Clive left to update their employer and he walked to the edge of the street. He saw the lean blond approaching with a mixture of wariness and weariness on his face.

"Evenin' sir," Harry greeted, his English accent catching the rider by surprise. "Harry Simmons at your service, welcome to Suratrat."

"Sore a trat?" Chris repeated, eyeing the tuxuedo on the man and how out of place this whole city seemed in the middle of nowhere. Expensive iron poles held lanterns with colored glass which illuminated the street. Some of the building at the far end were made of brick and stone. The boards on the sidewalks were polished and shone.

"Yessir..." Harry stepped closer. "You name your pleasure, we can provide it. First rate gambling den, a few taverns and several places that the most desirable young nymphs will pleasure you beyond your wildest dreams." He paused, his eyes gleaming. "But they don't come cheap. "

"Not interested in that," Chris decided, "Just some food and whiskey, a place to spend the night."

"The lad will take your horse," Harry stated, ringing the brass bell on the side of the pole "And the young lady will show take care of everything else."

Chis eyed the boy about fourteen, who was dressed in a short brown coat and dress pants. He climbed down and handed the reins over, along with some silver. He barely had time to turn back and instead of the Englishman he'd spoken to, a young woman with very exotic features was before him. Her complexion and eyes reminded him of the pictures he'd seen of women from the far east. The top she wore had transparent rose sleeves and a full fitting span of cotton across her breasts. Gold braiding surrounded it, her navel was bare, save a diamondish stone in her belly button. The harem pants she wore were rose too and transparent, not hiding her lush sex.

"I'm not interesting in that," Chris stated up front.

"I am only here to serve you," she said, taking his arm. "Come this way, you will eat and rest."

Chris was startled when she led him inside of a large tent. It was ornately decorated with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling with flickering candles. The rugs were extravagent, the kind he'd only read about. Lush and thick full of color, they were joined by glass tables with brass legs and the china on them was expensive. Crystal glasses and decanters with liquor were on each table. The place was nearly full. Men of every age and size were eating and each one had a different but equally beautiful woman at his table. All the men were well dressed, he felt a bit out of place.

"Sit," she instructed, "What is your pleasure? Beef, Lamb, Turkey, Quail?"

"Whatever you have," he answered, then added, "not lamb. " He reached for the decanter and poured a shot. His eyes opened at the quality, this would make the stuff Ezra bought seem like swill. She came back a few moments later with a plate of finger food. He recognized the small pieces of honey drenched grilled chicken. There was a yellowish rice with peppers under them and some fruit. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he'd consumed it all. She arrived just in time with a bowl of tangy soup with bits of seafood in it. Finally, there was a platter of tender beef, rolled up and stuffed with sausage in a rich wine sauce with tiny potatoes and peppers. She offered dessert but he was full.

"Perhaps your bed?" She offered, pouring the remaining liquor into a silver flask. "If you have changed your mind, your wife, she would not know."

"There is no wife and I haven't changed my mind." He realized he was a bit rough and softened his tone. "Listen, thanks for everything. I never enjoyed a meal more." He reached for his pocket but she caught his wrist.

"No, sir, you don't pay now. When you leave, you will pay. Come, I will show you your bed."

They walked down the street and turned off, seeking a row of smaller tents. She stopped at the first one, tapping on the door. She ducked inside and a few seconds later, emerged.

"I am sorry, that one was not supposed to be occupied."

"That's okay," Chris blinked hard, wondering how late it was. All he wanted was a bed.

She tapped on the next door and peered inside. Then she held the door open. He ducked through and eyed the darkened room. He heard her behind him and saw her turning a lantern up. He saw a solid looking bed across the room with a rich blue silk cover. The pillows were full and lush, beckoning for his head. To his left was a small marble table and two expensive chairs. He crossed the room, tossed his hat on the bed and unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt. He saw the flask she offered and took it, taking a long swig. His face screwed up, the bitter taste in his mouth left him puzzled. Before his brain could put the clues together, his legs buckled. The room began to grow distorted and he staggered, falling to his knees. Oddly, the last thing he saw before he toppled over was that diamond in her belly button approaching.

"You've done an exceptional job, my dear."

She'd caught him by the shoulders and laid him down. She rose, updated her employer on the fact he was single, nodded once and took the sac heavy with gold coins before slipping outside.

Clive Baxter and Harry Simmons stood behind their tall, lean and very rich boss. Louis Edward LeSuerre was originally from New Orleans. By underhanded means which ended up with more than a few corpses tossed into the Bayou, he'd attained his wealth. But the law finally caught up to him and he was forced to flee, taking his two most trusted allies with him. He'd left that name behind along with all the crimes attached to it. He'd adopted the name Thomas Gilbert, which was name of the resident in the first place he'd found for refuge several days after his escape. His way of thanks was burying the corpse before he took the man's money and valuables. He'd taken the deed to the house to the county seat and sold the property.

He found this place by accident and without an invite or prior knowledge, few others did. They began humbly, with a few tents. He had the golden touch and the money poured in. He expanded and the price for entry rose dramatically. The allure of the exotic women and their talents was a heady one. The gambling casino was top notch and the anonimity associated with the stay was well paid for. That was more than enough to keep him living in the way he was accustomed to for the rest of his years, but his true wealth came from another source. One that was very illegal and often deadly.

"Harry, any problems?" He asked, nodding to the other man to examine their guest.

"No, sir, Copper," Simmons replied, shivering a bit. The inate evil in this man went hand in hand with his nickname derived from 'Copperhead'. The deadly snakes were common in the swamps where he'd grown up and someone gave him the nickname years ago.

"Clive here followed him from Grovers Pass. He was alone, we were careful. We met up at the bend and put the tree in place," Simmons stated, kneeling down beside the unconscious man.

He paused to smile, that was his idea and his boss had awarded him well for it. The tree and rocks were attached to a large wagon. The tree was hollowed out and the rocks were artistic, made to look real. But the folliage was thick and covered the wheels of the low slung wooden wagon. They only used it at night, when the rider wouldn't see so well. Once the unsuspecting prey turned back and left, they took it away and hid it again.

Harry felt along the ribs and chest, nodding at the lean muscles under his hand. He unbuckled the gunbelt and the buttons on the pants. Then he felt along the legs before returning to the shirt, unbuttoning it.

"He's been injured recently," Gilbert noted.

"Nothin' t'worry on, sir," Harry proclaimed, touching the stitched shoulder. He slapped the lean ribcage and marveled at the sinew. "Prime beef, sir, a good catch 'e is. Clive, give a hand."

Clive was as strong as an ox, easily lifting the man up from behind. Harry got the shirt off and then Clive shifted, stood up and took the slumped figure with him. Simmons tugged the pants off and nodded and the larger man then laid him back down.

Copper eyed the man closely, tipping the unconscious man's chin to have a closer look. Their was something familar about him. As he bent to inspect the man's face, he inadvertantly leaned the palm of his hand on the healing shoulder. A moan sounded and the eyes opened for a second, then closed again. But that was enough.

"You fool!"

"What?" Harry was confused. This man was exactly the kind they always caught.

"Do you know who that is?" Copper turned, his face enraged. He slapped Simmons hard, sending him to his knees. "That's Chris Larabee!"

"So?" Simmons face stung and he rose slowly, rubbing his red cheek.

"So!" The wealthy man raged, "He a gunslinger, quick as lightning and just as deadly. He's known in this area. He's now a peacekeeper from north of here, he works for Judge Travis. He has six friends, just as lethal. He'll be missed, they'll come looking for him."

"Sorry, Copper, I didn't know."

"Dammit!" Gilbert paced the room, raking a hand through his graying black hair. His piercing blue eyes were icy and hard. Depending on when Larabee was expected back, those men would come looking for him. If they didn't find him, they'd hunt deeper and might discover his Paradise. He could lose it all. "If they find this place, we could lose everything we've worked for."

"Alright, sir," Clive spoke up. "We'll kill him, take him back towards town and make it look like a robbery."

"That'll work, Copper," Harry hoped.

"Will it?" the patron asked, wondering. "They'll hunt for the killers, that might lead here. It's too risky."

Gilbert was about to agree when he noticed a man walking into the casino. He eyed the man's fair coloring, height and weight and got an idea. Larabee was worth close to five hundred dollars to him and if the plan worked, he wouldn't lose his money or his town.

"Then again," he purred, turning back to the pair. A slow cold smile appeared on his face and he stood over the prone blond man. "Maybe we can keep him and his friends will find the corpse."

"I don't understand sir," Harry's voice matched his perplexed features.

"Clive, get him ready, you know what to do. Harry, come with me."

They entered the casino and went up a short flight of stairs to a landing. Hidden from view, they peered down at the busy gambling den. Copper eyed the room and found the man at a roulette table.

"Who is he?"

"Dunno, sir, but I'll find out."

"Do that!"

As he waited for Simmons to return, he watched the man. The more he watched, the better the idea became. He was glad now that they hadn't ripped or cut Larabee's clothes. He had the same build and his hair was the right color. They'd have to cut it but that was easy. His face would not be recognizable, so that wasn't a problem.

"Sir?" Harry returned, with a paper. "Delia says his name is Mitchell. He's a loner from Texas. He comes here twice a year. A recluse she said."

"Excellent!" Gilbert exuded. "Tell India we need her services again."

A half hour later, they stood over the corpse of the former Jake Mitchell. The poison worked fast and he'd been dead before she climaxed. They'd dressed him in Larabee's clothes, securing the gunbelt last

"Alright, Harry, you know the plan. Take your time and use the gun wisely. His face has to be blown off, but not the clothes. They have to believe it's him." He eyed them loading the body on the back of Larabee's horse. "The river will do the rest. In a few days, he'll be black, bloated and miles away. Just enough of him left for this friends to bury without casting an eye here."

Chris wanted to wake up but couldn't . His head hurt and his eyes were heavy. There was a burning pain in his gut and whatever was causing it, didn't want to be inside anymore. He cried out when the burning bile erupted. The explosion was violent, as if someone was cutting him from the inside out with a ragged razor. The pain caused his eyes to open. Sluggish and weak, he was barely able to keep his head up. His tongue felt thick, much too large for his mouth. He slobbered as he tried to move it around. He blinked stupidly at the floor, wondering why he wasn't toppling over. With great effort, he drew his heavy head up and saw his arms were chained to a pipe stretching across the ceiling. He suspended, his feet barely touching the ground. His mouth tasted vile and his chest was covered in vomit. The single question kept appearing in the mud in his brain.

What the hell happened?"

His fuzzy eyes saw canvas walls and nothing else. He tried hard but the last thing he remembered was Grovers Pass. This wasn't that place. Where was he? How did he get here? He grit his teeth as the vile creature in his stomach sunk it's fang in his gut again. He closed his eyes, trying to cope with the pain. He felt a strong hand probing his tender abdomen and then his groin.

"Fuck... off..." he snarled hoarsely. He head was tugged back by the hair. A knife ran slowly fron his neck to his belly button.

"I'm sure a man like you has had to kill and gut game on occasion," Copper suggested, pressing the tip of the blade and drawing a single drop of blood. "So have I. It's something I rather enjoy, whether it be a four-footed creature or a two-footed one." He saw the denial eyeing him back boldly and laughed. "Yes, Mister Larabee, I've done that to a man, even a woman once. I rather enjoy it. You see done correctly, the victim lives for quite a while, even as their entrails are removed." The face paled then and that excited him. He tapped the prisoner's cheek and cupped the chin. He leaned in then and reassured him. "Not to worry, that will not be your fate. But you might pray for it in the upcoming weeks, if you live that long."

Chris didn't understand the cryptic clues. He didn't know this well-dressed stranger about fifty or so. He eyed the cufflinks, watch and ring and knew they were worth a fortune. It didn't make any sense. Before his foggy brain could think on it anymore, a woman entered. She might have been pretty once but she wasn't young anymore and thick at the waist. Her blond hair was dull but well kept.

"Deliliah, be a dear and clean him up. Santiago's men will be here soon. You know he doesn't like to he kept waiting." He paused and his eyes lingered on the prisoner's groin. He leaned in just inches from the confused eyes blinking at him. He gave the well-honed package a solid tug and the eyes grew full of fire. "His guards like blonds, they pay extra. When you're too broken to work anymore, you'll be their best bitch."

"...kill... you... first..." Chris warned, still fighting.

Then the pipes above him, which were drilled with tiny holes, shot out water at an incredible force. He sputtered and shivered as the icy shards hit his defenseless body, feeling like tiny needles. The shock of the assault left him numb. He passed out for a moment, vaguely aware of the woman using large soapy mittens to clean him.

"...get... filthy... paws... off... whore."

"Now that's not polite," she sassed, putting the mittens down. She got a small pair of pliers out and turned, using them on his left nipple and twisting it.

Chris cried out in pain and a rag was shoved in his mouth . A piece of cloth was tied around it, securing the gag. Her face appeared again, she slapped him hard to get his full attention.

"I don't like a fresh mouth, Mister Larabee, next time, I'll use this and take some teeth out."

Chris bit the rag in frustration, wondering how he was going to escape. He couldn't remember the name they used but it added up to him being sold to someone. He recalled the words 'guards' and 'blonds' and a 'trip'. They were near the border and with a sick feeling in his raging gut, he realized he was being taken to Mexico. But for what purpose? And to who? The harsh cleansing continued, he flinched when she grinned, using a harsh brush on his groin.

"Sick bitch" he thought, wincing from the assault.

Deliliah went to the corner, drawing out a syringe from her bag. She filled it and turned back, watching his green eyes regarding her with open hosility.

"Oh, sugar, save that venom for next week when you'll need it." She laid the syringe down and felt the rippling muscles on his arm. "Sweet dreams," she cooed, brutally stabbing the tender inside of the middle part of his arm where it bent.

Chris's eyes went wide when she jabbed him. The burning pain spread through him, causing him to toss his head. He felt a rough, coarse material pulled up his legs. It itched like hell and he squirmed as his tender damp skin came in contact with it. Something was pulled tight around his waist. He wanted to look but his eyes wouldn't work. He got them open and the room became long and distorted, as did their faces.

A clang sounded and his hands were freed, HIs legs wouldn't support his weight and he dropped to the floor. Strong arms caught him and held his hands high. Someone else tugged a tunic like shirt over his head. It had no buttons and was as rough and itchy as the pants. He saw other shirts like it in a long box, they had black numbers on the back.

"Do you like your new clothes?" Copper asked of the drugged victim. The lips opened and long line of slobber came out along with a gutteral sound. "No need to thank me, Mister Larabee. They are courtesy of your new employer, Domingo Santiago. We have a very nice agreement. He owns several mines in Mexico and I supply him with labor when he runs short. He pays me very well." He smiled then, 'Of course his guards are well paid and he likes to keep them happy and they love nothing more than arrogant Americans."

Chris was fighting hard to stay awake but losing that battle. Whatever drug they'd used was overpowering him. He felt the slimy man's hands stroke his cheek and wanted to turn away.

"Don't fight so hard, you'll soon be asleep. Enjoy your nap, Mister Larabee, it's the last chance you'll have for rest until your eternal sleep, which given your strength and fight, might not be for several months. " He paused and marveled at the prime specimen who was still fighting. The green eyes were slits now but shooting fire at him. "When you wake up, you'll be in Hell." He saw the eyes fading fast. "Adios!"

Friday Mid-Morning
South of Juarez Mexico, Maria Rosita Mine

Something was buzzing in his ears. He twisted his head away, trying to avoid the annoying sound. It wasn't a bee but the intensity of the buzzing reminded him of a pack of insects. His mouth was on fire. That was the first conscious thought Chris had. He tried to move his tongue but it felt as if it was plastered to the inside of his mouth. His whole body throbbed and he felt sick . Pain stabbed as his insides and tried to curl up but couldn't move. He felt something hard jab him in the gut and he moaned.

"He is not sleeping anymore. Wake him up." Domingo Santiago ordered the guards, tapping the long baton against the ground.

The mine that he managed was one of a string of prosperous investments. This one housed silver, the others zinc, gold and nickel. They material was split between several of the provinces in Mexico and also, north into the United States. Thanks to a chance meeting one night north in El Paso with Copperhead Gilbert, he had an unending supply of slaves that had made him a wealthy man. There was nothing quite as satisfying as belittling, tormenting and degrading arrogant Americans.

Two sturdy ranch style buildings were behind him. The smaller one had tiny cells for the prisoners to sleep in. He'd just exited the one that housed the detaining area, the guards quarters, a kichen and supply room. His private quarters were across the yard. The slaves worked in shifts, eighteen hours on and six off. They slept in small prison cells with dirt floors, a cot and a bucket. They were fed once a day and the guards bet money on which ones would turn on their mates for food. They often fought like animals. The compound only had one main road from the mine to the nearest state road. The mountains and desert that surrounded them proved just as deadly as his camp. The few that tried escaping died by thirst in the desert, by snake or scorpion bite or were hunted down by the guards, tortured and brought back to set an example. Few even tried and those were usually the newcomers.

Santiago walked across the courtyard when the new prisoner was brought from the detaining area. He'd arrived just after dawn and as soon as he was 'interviewed', he'd be given food and then put into the mines to work. He inspected the young man as he was carried out to the wooden post and bar that was constructed for this purpose. Both arms were secured in iron bands above his head. The blond head was moving from side to side and the pale eyes were blinking in confusion. He walked over, nodded to each guard standing at either side and waited for them to shove his legs apart. Then he picked up a solid wood baton and swung it with all his might from his side at a upward angle. It hit the prisoner's groin hard.

Chris screamed, jerked his head back and his eyes shot open. The pain that was eminating from his balls and spreading through his entire groin competed with the snakes biting his gut and the bright sun causing his head to throb. His muddled brain began to clear and he saw a mean looking Mexican man wearing a cream colored shirt and tan uniform pants. The pock-marked face with a pencil thin mustache regarding him with cold eyes.

"Good Morning Prisoner twenty-one. Welcome to your new home, the Maria Rosita Mine. You are no longer in the bosom of your greedy American country. This is Mexico and you will be enslaved here until you die or are no longer fit for work." He paused, walking behind the prisoner and running the baton up his thigh and pressing it against his tight backside. "If that is the case, you will be given to my guards for sport or pleasure. You will wish you had died." He walked in front again and laughed as the arrogant glare he got. He ran his hand through the sweat spiked blond hair and tapped the white man's cheek. "You will be a very pretty puta, I think."

"...how would... you... know...." Chris panted over the fire in his throat. "...only... use... hand..."

That brought a slap to his face and his hair was yanked up hard, stretching his neck until his veins corded out.

"You are a slave now, Gringo dog." Santiago used his free hand to apply pressure to that exposed throat until the air was cut off. "That is your name now, Gringo Dog Twenty One. You will work in the mines and fill your cart with silver or you will be punished. You will eat when you are told, drink when you are told, shit when you are told," he paused, squeezing harder and enjoying the fearful greens eyes bugging out and the mouth seeking air where there was no more. "And eat the shit if you are told. If you defy me, Senor Dog, you will suffer the consequences of my wrath. Do you understand these rules?" He squeezed harder yet and the body began to twitch. "I cannot hear you!"

Chris saw black spots and felt the world fading away. He'd nearly been hung once and this is what it felt like. He had no air and was being choked to death. He didn't hear what the wardon said but he nodded. He couldn't escape this hellhole if he died.

"Good!" Santiago released his grip and the sputtering blond man coughed, wheezed and gasped. He waited until the dazed body regained some of it's strength. "You will be given fifteen minutes to eat your meal. Then you will be taken into the mine, where you will fill your cart. You have missed some of your normal shift, so extra hours will be added. The guards will instruct you and you will obey, comprende?"

"Comprende this!" Chris wheezed, vomiting on the brute's boots.

He swore he saw steam coming out of the warden's ears. He didn't know much Spanish so he didn't understand the orders that were barked out. But when his pants were yanked down, he got a clue. They wouldn't do to much damage, they needed him to work. The bastard was trying to break him and Larabee would be damned if he'd let that happen. But when the snap of a whip hit the air, sending dust by his feet, he jumped. Then the first one his his backside and his hissed. He held his own through the next few lashes, but when the aim changed and the leather bit his balls, he screamed. The colors danced before him and he felt himself passing out. His backside and groin were burning and throbbing. He was vaguely aware of being cut down and dragged through the dirt. He moaned when bits of gravel and sand mixed with the new wounds on his backside.

Then the light was cut off and he was shoved into a small dirt floored cell. He recoiled at the ungodly stench of blood, shit and decay. Even the air reeked of urine. One of the guards was holding him by the back of the collar. The other walked in front of him, he tried to move his head but it was forced lower.

"This is your new home, Gringo Dog!" The guard moved the bucket under the blond man's head and nodded once.

"Take a good drink!" The other laughed, shoving the face into the bucket of waste. He waited a moment and then released it.

"You have fifteen minutes to eat. You will not eat again until tomorrow, so do not be foolish. Then I will be back for you. Do not anger me, Senor Dog or you will not get your sleeptime tonight. I will find six hours worth of ways to keep you awake." He threw the prisoner's pants at him and turned away.

Chris was still coughing and throwing up when they left. He crawled away from the bucket until his arm hit a wall. He couldn't see much, there was a single slit in the wall, maybe three inches by twelve, just letting in a tiny bit of air and light. He wiped his face on his shirt and continued to gag. He tried to get the vile filth from this mouth and nose, but it seemed to linger. He eyed the tiny cell and his spirits sagged. There was a very narrow bunk on one wall. He tried not to think of what he would be lying in. He could see bugs and mice scurrying over it; he eyed the plate on the floor and began to gag again. It resembled vomit and there was a large roach walking through it. He thought for a moment and used the spoon to dig a hole of sorts. He shoved the food into the hole and patted dirt on it. Then he laid back, closed his eyes and began to pray. He recalled the words used by the man who'd sold him into slavery. He was right — this was Hell.

"Well, look at this Luis!" The guard walked in and saw the empty plate. He bent down and patted the blond head. "Good boy... Good Gringo Dog..."

Chris felt the rage building inside and fisted his hands by his sides. It took everybit of his self control not to react. He felt his face twisting in fury and his temper fighting against the chains that kept it at bay. He rolled to get on his knees to stand up and his head was pulled back by the hair. He saw the guard to his left holding a tin mug, which was lowered and then urinated in. He kept his eyes on that guard who held the mug to his lips.

"Drink like a good dog..."

Chris took the mug and his only thought as his fingers curled against it was to hurl it back in the bastard's face. But then the leering guards faces faded away. He didn't inhale the putrid stench or feel the bugs on his body. He heard only one voice, a raspy drawl that gave him pause.

"Don't give 'em the satisfaction."

So as Vin Tanner's voice faded away, he used that strength to purge his temper. He took a long breath, regained his posture, stood up, eyed the head guard and calmly drank the filthy warm urine. Then he shoved the cup into the uniformed chest, glared at him smugly.

"I've had better," Chris said, turning away and exiting the cell.

"No!" The head guard grabbed the furious man next to him. "We are down three men, two more died this morning. Santiago will have our heads if his order is met. We have four days to get that shipment ready for Mexico city. We need him, he's young and strong. Wait... wait Luis and by the end of the week, he will not be so arrogant. You can take him to the cellar and do anything your heart desires."

Part Six

Friday Night
Rio Grande River

Buck eased his skiddish horse through the swollen river, using a gentle tone. But when he wasn't halfway across yet and the water was up to his thighs, he turned back, shaking his head to Josiah on the bank. The man of the cloth was waiting there with the four horses. A storm earlier in the week had caused the river to rise in this area. They lost time finding the first two horses and now couldn't cross the river.

"Sorry, big guy." Wilmington shook his head as he rode back onto dry ground. He shoved his hat back and eyed the riverbank stretching out before them.

"Not your fault, Buck," Sanchez replied, eyeing the dark sky. "The Lord loves a good challenge."

"Yeah, I would to if I wasn't the one stuck in the middle of it," Wilmington commiserated. "It's getting dark, you want to make camp here?"

"Yeah, we'll start again at first light. With any luck, we'll be home by supper."

"Don't say that!" Buck warned, riding further up the hill to a better camping spot. "You said that last night and look where we are!"

"Home is where the heart is?" Josiah flashed his teeth.

"Nothing personal, Josiah, but my heart ain't the body part that's gonna spend another night sleeping on the dirt, instead of a bed."

"At least JD and Vin will get the benefit of those beds Ezra... uh..."

"Pilfered," Buck supplied, tying his horse up and taking the saddlebags off first.

"I was thinking of something a bit softer."

"I was thinking of the truth," Buck laughed. "He not only got those beds from the salesmen, he had them upgrade them. That poor guy never knew what hit him."

"Brother Standish does have a silver tongue," Josiah said, preparing the fire.

"Between the silver tongue and gold tooth, all's he needs is a diamond in his nuts."

"Speakin' from experience, Buck?"

"Just stick to cookin' and leave your humor behind," Buck suggested, putting his saddle down and a blanket on top of it. He thought of Vin and JD again. "Hell, I bet those two'll eat right through the supply room."

"Well," Josiah said, taking one of the rabbits they'd caught and cleaned earlier and skewering it. "Vin don't cook unless he has to and JD can't cook to save his soul." He paused, shaking his head. 'Hope they don't burn the place down."

"Dammit, it's cold tonight," Buck shivered, thinking on the large hearth at the ranch. "Friday night... hmmm. I'll bet them two pups stopped at the Boarding House. It don't take much for them to sweet talk Mae into giving them a basket of chicken."

"They do have a talent for beguiling," Josiah agreed. "Vin don't even have to talk."

"Goddammit JD!"

"I said I was sorry, Vin!" Dunne hollered back. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want ya t'git yer sorry ass up the road and git them horses. Don't come back without 'em!"

"Dammit t'hell," Tanner swore as the youth rode off. He eyed his wet, muddy clothes which were quickly turning in to plaster and swore again. "Hey, Vin, how 'bout we cut through Marshall Pass?" He mimicked Dunne's voice and begin to peel his mud-encased clothes off. It seemed to be everywhere. The only good thing was that his coat was not on when he slipped down the hill. By the time he got to the bottom, the only showing through the thick muck was his eyes. "Ya look like a racoon, Vin!" He echoed the sheriff's comment. "Some Goddamn tracker ya are, Tanner. Ya shouldda knowed better."

He cursed JD the entire time he walked a quarter mile back to the creek to wash his clothes. He was making a mental list of payback as he rung the clothes and pounded them with rocks. Finally, as he shivered in the night air all the way back to camp to hang his pants, shirt and socks from tree branches, he was ready to kill the kid. But there he was, looking guilty and wide-eyed by the fire. JD'd let go of the horses when Vin took his tumble to try to catch up to him. Now they were back and safe. He had to give the kid credit, he was a good rider. Just when his ire was in full force, the kid looked right at him with those doe eyes.

"Aw, hell..."

JD felt the night air go right through him and he had a heavy shirt and coat on. He eyed Vin's lean frame in the worn long johns and winced. He jumped up quickly and ran over, taking the sodden clothes that were held out.

"I take care of it, VIn, just get by the fire. I'll get the food out, Vin, you don't have to do anything. I left some blankets..."

"It's okay, kid," Vin managed, completely undone by the large hazel eyes.

"...cause if you get sick, Nathan'll kill me. Here." JD finished hanging the clothes on several tree branches, close to the fire. "...I hope they don't freeze overnight..."

"JD? Quit yammerin', I ain't sore," Vin tried, sitting as close to the fire as he could without getting burned. He sat crosslegged with his blanket wrapped around him.

"...coffee but we don't got a lot of sugar. You drink up and I'll get the food."

"Look, kid," Vin started, but a mug was shoved in his hand. It was hot and he wrapped his frozen fingers around it and then took a sip, savoring the warmth that ran through him.

"...so if your clothes do freeze, I'll boil some water and hold them over the steam and..."

"JD."

"...should dry but the sun will help going home and we'll be in before dark. So..."

"JD."

"...warm enough? Buck says your half lizard. Here, take this blanket, it's small but if you..."

"JD!" Vin bellowed, stopping the velocity of speech. "Quit flappin' yer jaws. I'm fine, the clothes'll dry fine and if ya don't quit firin' words at me, I'm gonna shoot ya! Quit sayin' yer sorry, I ain't sore, okay? Jest hungry."

"I'm sor..." JD shut his mouth when the soggy tracker stood up and his hand went to his hip. He put his own hand up and nodded, indicating he'd comply. He unpacked the food they bought at the Trading Post they passed midday. There were sandwiches, fruit and cake, along with the coffee. JD saved some ham, cheese and biscuits for a quick breakfast in the morning.

They ate quietly. It was good and Vin ate both sandwiches, most of the coffee, a piece of spice cake and a peach. Finally, he curled up, still shivering but warmer and glad for the protection of his hide coat. He had that on top of his upper body and the blanket wrapped around the lower half. He was dozing off and felt something warm laid on him. He peeled and eye open and saw the brown of JD's coat. He waited until the younger man was settled down on his bedroll. The kid's eyes met his over the fire. Damn, they look bigger when he's upset.

"Thanks, kid," Vin sent over.

"Your welcome, Vin." JD paused, thinking on when Vin fell down the hill. He waited until the tracker's eyes closed. "You did make a cute racoon, though." He was glad when he heard a good laugh from the other side of the fire.

Friday Night
Maria Rosita Mine

Time ceased to have any bearing. The mine was so dark that after a while, you lost the sense of being. Day or night? Three hours or ten? The work was backbreaking and for the injured gunslinger, he wondered if he was in Hell. The sweat that ran freely hit every one of the fresh lashes on his backside. His shoulder was throbbing, he'd not had any of the burn cream applied since he left Grovers Pass. That seemed like a long time ago. He'd long past hunger and would have sold his soul for a canteen of water. He'd even licked the cave wall to gain a bit of the moisture there.

He had no idea how long he'd been working but his cart was nearly full. The first few hours he'd put his back into it, hacking at the walls with a purposeful vigor. That was a good thing because now he was barely able to stand. He put the tools down and laid his throbbing body against the wall. There were eight other men in the tunnel with him each in varying stages of wear.

Some looked like prisoners he'd seen liberated after the war. They'd been here awhile and the loss of soul in their eyes was frightening. Then there were a few like him, still fueled by rage. He looked up and saw a lean young man with dark hair and eyes looking at him. He was American and by the full frame and the way he was working, Chris judged that he'd not been here very long. As soon as he looked at him, the other man turned away. It wasn't the first time Chris caught him looking.

A few moments later, the other man caught his eye again, nodded to the cart and jerked his head sideways. Chris didn't know the reason but reacted, hauling his body up, biting back the urge to cry out in pain and picking up his axe. Sure enough, a few moments later the guards appeared. When they passed by, he nodded to the stranger, giving his thanks. The other man nodded back. He felt a bit of relief, he had one friend on Hell.

He was pushed so far beyond the realm of endurance, he was looking forward to vermin infested, urine stained bed. Six hours of sleep sounded like sixteen at this point. He wasn't sure how long he'd been here, but he knew that the others would come. As desperate as his plight seemed, those blue eyes and that drawl were his rock. Vin wouldn't give up, no matter what it took.

"Ride hard, cowboy," he croaked, holding onto the mental image of Vin as long as he could.

Saturday Night
Hope Ranch

Vin didn't think it was possible to be any more tired that he was at this moment. When he and JD crossed under the sign for the ranch, he wanted to kiss the ground. He'd never admit it, but the concussion was taking it's time leaving. Although the headaches had diminished every day, he was still more tired than usual.

"Hey," JD called back, waiting for Vin to catch up. "The house is dark."

"Well, it's late JD, maybe they're sleepin'"

"I don't see any horses in the corral." JD picked up his pace and quickly headed into the yard. "Vin? They're not here."

"I hope they didn't run inta trouble, " Vin replied, easing off his horse and holding onto the pommel a moment longer. "If they ain't here by mornin', I'll go lookin'."

"You look beat, Vin, I'll take care of the horses."

"Thanks, kid, but I'm okay."

They worked well together, quickly tending to their own horses and the three new ones. Finally, they horses were cleaned and fed and the two men when in the house. Vin hung his gunbelt and hat up, took his boots off and collapsed on the sofa. He wasn't aware he'd been sleeping until the front door opened and a loud voice sounded.

"See!" Buck waved his arm towards the sofa and stepped inside as Josiah entered the room. "Flat on his back. I told you. We damn near drowned and these two are livin' the good life."

"We only got home a couple hours ago, Buck." JD argued and watched Vin yawning and blinking. "And quit shoutin', Vin's got a headache."

"JD, is that my pan?" Josiah asked, eyeing something burning in a large black frying pan.

"Your pan?" JD eyed the pan and then the preacher, who suddenly seemed much taller. "Well, I... I... uh... I guess... I mean I didn't know it was your pan. It was for Vin..."

"Nice try, JD!" Vin chuckled, peeling a single eye open.

"Is that pancake syrup?" Josiah frowned at the charred sticky mess clinging to his prize pan.

"Pancake syrup?" Buck winced, shaking his head. He ruffled Dunne's hair as he passed by. "Boy, you messed up good. You'll never get that mess out of Josiah's good pan."

"Shut up Buck!" JD snapped. "Look, Josiah, I'm sorry. The ham was sort of dry and it needed help.:"

"It's not the only thing that needs help." Sanchez took the pan off the heat and to the sink. As the water came out of the pump and hit the cast iron cooking pan a burst of steam rose.

"I'll do that," Dunne offered along with a silent prayer.

"Damn right you will," Josiah stated.

"Chris ain't here?" Buck asked.

"No," Vin yawned, settling back into the warmth of the cozy sofa. "No reason fer him t'stay here, nobody was home.

"Yeah, he's probably in town," Buck agreed, easing his worn frame into the large leather chair by the fire. "Damn, I'm beat."

"I hear that," VIn agreed.

The quartet compared stories and outlined their duties for the near future. They would examine the horses in the morning and determine the best course of action. Vin felt one of their three wouldn't require much work, she was more in need of food and rest than treatment. Josiah thought the same of two of theirs. So that would ease the workload. By midnight, they'd eaten and retired, dreaming of a relaxing Sunday at home.

Saturday night
Maria Rosita Mine

When the whistle blew, Chris was slumped against the damp wall. He was five miles beyond the point of exhaustion. There wasn't one inch of him that didn't burn, ache, throb or scream pain. He couldn't figure out if he was too tired to be sick or too sick to be tired. He felt a hand tap his back and took the help to stand. It was the dark haired young man who'd warned him silently when the guards were coming. He gave a nod of appreciation and shuffled with the others towards the end of the tunnel. Six armed guards lined either side of the narrow entry, shoving, pummeling and using the hard wooden batons on each of them as they stumbled past. Chris hissed when the wooden stick hit the lower part of his still healing back. He went to his knees and his temper flashed. One hand curled into a fist.

"Don't."

The whisper came as the same man helped him up. He shrugged off the arm and staggered up the incline. It seemed to take forever, but finally they were outside. It was dark out, he groaned and inhaled the cool night air. His eyes combed the sky, drinking in every star he saw. Never again would he take his freedom for granted. No wonder Vin embraced the gifts of Mother Nature.

Vin.

He followed the others towards the end of the main building and his thoughts went to his best friend. He knew VIn and the others would miss him by tomorrow.

If he was expected by Friday and didn't wire home, they might wire the hotel to check on him. Then they'd know he left. But how would they find him? If you weren't looking for it, you wouldn't find that tent city. He felt the enormity of the problem settle on his worn frame.

"Thirty minutes, Gringo Dogs!"

Larabee cried out softly and squinted, covering his eyes as the bright light of the inside of the building hit him. He'd been in the darkness of the cave for hours. Hours? Days? How much time had passed? He didn't know how long he'd been here. Time had no bearing in this hell on earth. Inside the room were three tables with benches on either side. Some of the men paired up, leaving others alone. Some were so exhausted, as soon as they sat down, they put their heads on their arms on the table.

Chris sat at the end of the remaining table. It was a wonder that he was still conscious. He never recalled being so exhausted in all his life. He hurt in too many places to count and the burn on his chest was throbbing. He saw some of the others regarding him with cautious eyes. He knew enough about prisons to know that the inmates were just as dangerous as the guards. He understood their resistance to trust him. In the situation they were forced into, living like caged animals, they reacted that way. Most were thin to the point of being emancipated. How they were alive, able to walk and work amazed him. Beneath the grime on their faces, he thought most looked American or European but two of the younger ones were Mexican. One was a huge, hulking figure who appeared to intimadate the others. He could tell by the fear in their eyes when the brute eyed them all as if to give a silent warning.

Four guards appeared with trays of food. Chris was shocked to see chicken, beans and rice in ample portions along with rolls. Each table was given a clay pitcher of cold water. Chris guzzled his first mug too quickly and regretted it as soon as he swallowed. The shock of the cold water hitting his stomach caused a fireball of pain. He grunted, hunched over and clutched his tender gut. Through the haze of pain, he saw a large arm reach to take his plate. The guards laughed, and it would appear they would not interfere. Tanner's drawl cut through his red curtain of pain and he acted on it.

Show 'im yer balls, Lar'bee."

Chris shoved off the bench and grabbed the beefy wrist.

"Take your hand off my plate or I'll break it."

"Break it? I think not. You will soon learn about Miguel and that what Miguel wants, he gets. Your food, your water and anything else I like on you." The large Mexican man laughed at him, put the plate down and the shoved him.

Chris lost his balance and fell backwards, stumbled over the bench and landing on his backside. The pain from the lashes erupted, the bleeding wounds had scabbed, sticking to the rough fabric and his skin. But he pushed past that and got to his feet. He waited until his plate had been put down on the other table and hit the other man hard. The bear was caught off guard and fell to his knees. He kicked him hard between the legs and then again in the side. When his opponent went down, Larabee knelt on his throat, applying just enough pressure to choke him out.

"Listen up you fat, Mexican cockroach. You fuck with me again and I'll find you tomorrow in that rathole and use the pick to take your balls off, comprehende?" When the man glared at him, choking and struggling, he ground his knee harder. It seemed to take forever and his body was just about to collapse when the man consented. It took all the waning strength he had to shove off and stagger back to his table. He saw his plate appear before him and his friend from the mine sit across from him. He appeared to be about twenty-five, just a shot over six foot and lean.

"Thank God somebody stood up to him."

"Thanks," Chris said, taking his spoon and a mouthful of rice and chicken. "For earlier."

"Name's Greg Wilson. I got here a few days ago. You get drugged in that tent city?"

"Yeah." Chris held his mug out when the man poured for him. "Chris Larabee."

"I'm not sure of how, but that son-of-a-bitch that runs that place is partners with Santiago. From the little I've heard from a few of the others, he's careful who he picks. Usually loners without family nearby. You're so busy being wined and dined, you don't see the snake." He eyed one thin older man across the room. "I heard that poor bastard's been here for a couple years."

"Yeah, well, I'm not plannin' on stayin' that long." Larabee's fury rose when he thought on the slimy cretin in Tent City who'd sold him into slavery. "That bastard fucked with the wrong Gringo. I'm not a loner, I got six friends who'll come hunting for me."

"Then you had to be a mistake," Greg replied, eating his chicken. "You best eat up, they hustle out us of here whether you're done or not. It's a long time to the next meal."

"The mistakes gonna be his, when Vin Tanner cuts his balls off."

"Tanner?" He saw the green eyes change then, from hostility to pride. "He one of those six friends?" He saw the blond head dip. "So I guess you don't think we should plan a break?"

"No, not yet. Give it a few more days," Chris decided, eyeing the others. "You trust any of them?"

"Just you."

"Okay, then we keep it to ourselves."

"I hope you're right." Wilson thought on the sinister man in the tent city. "Gilbert won't talk." He was startled to see the blond man laugh. "That's funny?"

"Oh." Chris finished his meal and took a long drink. "I think he'll sing like a bird when Vin gets done with him." He saw the dark eyes confused. "Vin lived with the Indians, he's got a whole lot of ways to loosen a tongue."

"I'll drink to that," Greg agreed, finishing his own water as the guards blew a whistle. "In the meantime, Chris, I got your back."

"Appreciate it, Greg," Chris nodded, rose and shuffled out of the room.

So deep and bruising was his state of exhaustion, coupled with a slight fever that he was asleep before the bugs had time to skitter away. He didn't feel the mice roaming on his neck and nibbling on his scabs, he didn't see the roaches running a race down his face. He didn't even dream about his ranch, his friends or his freedom. He sank into darkness, craving the rest his battered body so desperately sought.

Sunday Morning
Hope Ranch

The dust from the flying hooves sent a cloud of dust around the rider. He didn't seem to mind and didn't have time to cough. His only goal was getting to the front door. He reined the horse in, jumped off and burst through the doors.

"Vin! Buck!" JD hollered, eyeing the empty main room. "Josiah!"

"Where's the fire, son?" Josiah asked, stumbling into the room and squinting at the flush-faced youth.

"Hell, JD, the sun hasn't been up that long," Wilmington grumbled as he staggered past Josiah and towards the door, seeking to relieve his bladder.

"Chris isn't in town!" Dunne blurted.

"What?" Vin's groggy state immediately disappeared. "He shoudda been back a couple days ago. He send word?"

"Ezra got a wire on Tuesday, Chris said he'd been back on Friday. When he didn't show up by Friday night, Ezra wired Grovers Pass."

"And!" Buck demanded, looming over the slight youth. "Come on JD, out with it!"

"The lines must have been down. They didn't reply until this morning." His large eyes went from Buck's face to Vin's. He felt guilty already and he hadn't even updated them yet. "He checked out of the hotel on Thursday afternoon."

"Aw, fuck," Vin swore, eyeing the new day through the window. He turned cold inside and a creeping fear took hold of his gut. "I'm headin' to Grovers Pass. Only one road inta town from there."

He didn't say it, but the shallow end of his sentence was colored with the thought. That their friend might be laying dead or hurt off the side of the road. A long stretch of road could have spelled trouble. Anyone who saw him leave could have followed and robbed him.

Vin turned to leave and his shoulder was grabbed.

"Now hold on, Vin, I want to find him too," Buck stated, "But we need a plan. He could be anywhere. What if he didn't take the same road? Maybe he travelled part of the way with that woman. Or maybe he decided to hit Mantino on the way back. The judge was due there last week. If those wires were down, he could have sent an update and we don't know about it."

"Alright," Vin agreed, there were other options. He didn't buy into any of them but he'd never win an argument against three of them. He knew Chris was in trouble. "But he wouldn't ditch us fer no woman."

"I've known him a little longer than you, Vin. He's gone off before, sometimes he just needs to be alone," Buck disagreed.

"I got a sense o'him!" Vin defended, getting in Buck's face. "Stronger than most and I'm tellin' ya he's in trouble."

"Enough, both of you!" Josiah moved between them. "Look, we have plenty of bodies, we can cover some of the other angles. " He gave Vin's downcast shoulder a tug. 'We'll find him, Vin."

"You didn't see this woman he was with right?" JD asked. 'What if she was after him? I mean he's killed a few people. Maybe..."

"I don't think so, kid. Hell, we didn't even know until Saturday that he'd ride with us. But we'll check that out."

"JD, you head back to town and check the wires again. Send a message to some of the outlying towns. He might have checked out Thursday but maybe he wasn't coming here. " Sanchez turned to Vin. "Buck and I will ride along the river, in case he headed to Mantino and didn't make it. Vin, you retrace the road to Grovers Pass. If either of us finds him, we wire JD and he'll ride for the others, okay?"

Vin mumbled and nodded, then turned away to get dressed and armed. He didn't want to wait another minute. A flashing image of a corpse left rotting in the sun for several days rose up. He shivered and shoved that away. Twenty minutes later, with food, gear and ammo, the trio left the ranch. They rode for about a half hour and then parted ways. Vin paused at the crest of the hill that led to the path to Grovers Pass. There were a lot of places on the long, narrow trail that a man could be left to die. His whispered fear went airborne, sailing on the morning breeze.

"Where are ya cowboy?"

Part Seven

Monday, Late Afternoon
West of Grovers Pass

Vin was grateful for Ezra's company. Standish had caught up to him late the previous day. The Southerner didn't prattle like JD, offer the Lord's words like Josiah or wax poetic on conquests like Buck. For the most part he kept quiet and surprisingly did not complain about the rough trek. Vin wasn't afraid of finding Chris, he couldn't explain it but somehow that sense of him being in trouble hadn't changed to a mortal fear.

The sun was starting to set and the air was cooling down. Vin eyed the dense wooded area and frowned. There was so much of it that Chris could be lying a few yards away and they could ride right by him. The thing that bothered him the most was the image of his best friend wounded, cold and alone somewhere. A call from behind with a sense of urgency caused him to turn back.

"Mister Tanner!"

Vin caught up to Ezra just as the conman was cresting the hill and heading up the path.

"What?" Vin called, chasing after him. Then he saw what caught the gambler's eye. By the time he arrived, Standish was already by the horse's side.

"It's Chris's, " Ezra updated, running a hand on the handsome animal's neck. "He's not been ridden recently."

"Hell..." Vin muttered, climbing off his horse and approaching Larabee's. He spent several minutes examining the horse for injuries or damage. "He's okay."

"No sign of blood on him," Ezra noted, hoping that would take the dark clouds from his friend's face.

"Don't mean he's not hurt," Vin replied of the missing rider. He then began a thorough search of the area. There were no signs of human habitation through the thick expanse of trees.

Ezra began to search as well, but after twenty minutes, they'd found little. He waited with the horses while Vin went back to the road and examined the path, both right, left and middle. Ezra finally saw Vin appear above him again and beckon.

"Only one set o'tracks. Chris ain't here and the tracks are comin' from the other direction. Don't make any sense."

"Well," Ezra theorized. "If he left town and some unscrupulous element followed him and shot him, it's possible he was thrown down an embankment and the horse took off."

In lieu of a reply, there was a slight flicker in the eyes and a small fall of the shoulders. "I'm sorry, Vin, but we must consider all possibilities."

"I know, Ez," Vin rasped, 'It don't make it any easier. "Ya head back t'town and board the horse. Wire JD and update Buck and Josiah. I'll keep goin' here."

"Alright," Ezra decided. It wasn't that he wanted to leave Vin, but it was clear that Vin prefered it that way.

Dusk
River Road

It was as if he'd fallen off the fallen off the face of the earth. They'd been riding for over a day and a half, covering both sides of the river. The judge left Mantino on Friday and the hotel clerk didn't recall seeing him with anyone. Chris hadn't checked in and the sheriff said there wasn't any bodies matching his description. JD wired that the gambler and the tracker were still combing the dark hills in the area surrounding Grovers Pass.

Buck's hopes died with every mile they covered. As much as he wanted to believe Chris had taken off, it was very unlikely. He'd have sent word to them by now. With every new piece of ground they covered, his gut clenched a bit more. He was out looking for Chris but the icy dread of finding him was overpowering. He just was not ready to face Chris Larabee's corpse. Josiah was about a mile ahead covering the low ground. There was a lot of area near the river and Buck was covering the woods. Then the sound he'd been fearing since they left rang through the air. A single shot sent a cold terror over him. He pulled up his horse and bit his lip. For a moment he was paralyzed, unable to go in the direction of the shot. He felt an ice cold stake drive right through his chest. He exhaled long and hard, then moved his horse down the trail and the rocky incline.

Josiah turned around just as Buck's face drained of color and he slid from the saddle, his legs unsteady. The larger man wasn't sure what words would provide even a shred of comfort for the raw agony that was painted on every feature.

"No... aw, shit... no..." Buck whispered. His legs wouldn't move, it was as if they were mired in mud.

"He was in the water awhile," Josiah said of the bloated and discolored body on the bank. He saw the question in Buck's dark blue eyes. Riddled with pain yet a fleeting glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe it was a mistake. "I checked his pockets."

Buck was numb all over and staggered towards the surreal scene before him. He took the items in Josiah's hand and his heart broke. Wet, soggy papers that bore the print of the hotel name. Chris's billfold with the brand of the Hope Ranch on the front. Ezra had given it to each of them for Christmas. His watch, which had belonged to his grandfather and was very special to him. But the final item, the one that told Buck this had to be Chris was the small flat glass coin. Chris had it custom made for Sara on Adam's first birthday. It was a small photo of Adam that was sealed inside the glass. It resembled a large glass coin. Sara gave it to him the morning of that fateful trip they took . He was never without it, few knew of it but often Buck would see his hand go in his pocket and seek it out.

His burning eyes went past Josiah then to the body. The back of the wet blond head had a large hole in it, turning the locks a crude brownish red. The clothes were unmistakably Larabee's, as was the conch gunbelt. He brushed by Josiah and the large hand caught him.

"Don't," Buck whispered, shoving off the hand. "I want to feel it..."

But as he knelt down and laid a hand on the muck encrusted hard shoulder, he saw that Chris's face was gone. He turned away, throwing up violently in the water. He'd felt pain before but nothing like this, not since they'd discovered Sara and Adam. He punched the earth hard, over and over, with tears burning in his eyes. He was dimly aware of Josiah holding his shoulders. He raised his damp eyes skyward, "WHY?"

"That's not for us to understand, Buck."

"Don't be a preacher tonight, Josiah, okay?" Buck choked, turning slowly back towards the grotesque form.

He was grateful that Sanchez had covered Chris's face with one of his shirts. He gathered up his scattered emotions and crawled over to the body. His own trembling hand reached out to the swollen, blackened one of this oldest friend. He lifted it and dropped it, unable to fathom the finality of the icy hard skin.

Josiah stood behind Buck and prayed silently, for the safe passage of Chris's soul into heaven to be reunited with his family and for the lost soul in front of him. It was during the end of the prayer, he thought of the task yet ahead. As difficult as it was to feel the agony radiating off Buck, Vin would be shattered. Before he could voice his fear, another broken voice brought it aloud.

"Who will tell Mister Tanner?"

Buck and Josiah both turned as Ezra softly approached. It was rare that the Southerner exposed himself. But the mask was off and the pain on his face was very real. He knew Ezra respected Chris Larabee and it might be the first time he'd lost a good friend. That was what he saw looking back at him. The aloof, sense of unbelievablility that often is found in the young, when they bury a brother or loved one for the first time. The jade eyes were bruised and that hurt.

"I will." Buck's voice was hollow and he turned his broken heart back to Chris.

"He's on the trail, I can direct you. He's not far, perhaps an hour's ride. We found his horse and for a moment, hope arose."

"I'm not ready yet," Buck whispered. He felt Ezra's hand on his shoulder and sighed hard, glad for the touch.

Josiah and Ezra walked to the top of the path and waited for Buck to compose himself. Sanchez saw Standish eyeing the cloth covering Chris's face. "His face is gone." He couldn't have hurt Ezra worse if he'd hit him. The smaller man rocked back on his heels and Josiah grabbed him. "I got a feeling when we bury him, we'll bury a part of Vin too."

"I would disagree," Ezra answered, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice.

He couldn't believe the sight before him. When he arrived and saw the body on the bank, it was as if a sabre sliced through him. He'd never known grief like this and chastised himself for allowing himself to be drawn into this circle of friends.

"Vin will be changed by this horrific murder as we all will be, but his kinship with Mister Larabee was not like anything I've known. I think he'll take that gift and cherish it, keeping the fire alive. Anything less would be an insult to his memory."

Josiah was surprised that Erza had that much insight into the bond that their two friends shared. They turned away, leaving Buck a bit of privacy.

"It will be hard to ascertain what happened or where. The river carried him for miles and we don't know how long he's been... or was..." Ezra sighed and shook his head.

"God help the poor bastard when Vin finds him," Josiah predicted, "And I believe he'll search until he does."

Buck put his hand on the cold hand and felt his chest tremble again. "Well, pard, we sure had a good ride. " His voice broke and he swiped his eyes. "You tell Sara and Adam I'm thinkin' on 'em. And don't you worry about Vin, I'll watch out for him. I sure am gonna miss..." The words died then and he didn't try to save them.

Ezra and Josiah turned around when Buck joined them. Ezra never saw agony in a moving form before.

"You uh... take him back to the ranch... for tonight... we'll take him in town in the morning." Buck whispered, barely able to find his voice.

He kept shivering, unable to ward off the awful cold that encased him. He moved to his horse and took out his bedroll. He handed it to Ezra and frowned at how badly his hands were shaking. "Keep him warm, Ezra, okay?"

"I shall, my friend," Ezra answered.

"How the hell am I gonna tell him?" Buck wondered aloud.

"He'll know, Buck," Josiah answered, giving the younger man a solid tug on the back of his tense neck. "As soon as he sees your face. But Chris would want it this way. Go on... God keep you."

Vin retraced the path the horse must have taken and it left him more puzzled than before. It didn't make much sense that Chris would have been this far off course. If frigthened off, the horse would have headed home, following the path. So how did they become separated? The sound of hooves crunching gravel brought his head up. He was studying the uneven tracks near a tree by the side of the road. His hand went to the Mare's leg until he recognized the hat and coat on the distinctive body riding up.

"Ezra caught ya fast," Vin hollered, "I can't figger how the horse ended up here. But mebbe..."

The air seemed to die then, when Vin looked up at him There was no words to describe the absolute shock that resounded from Vin. And that just about broke Buck's heart. He slowed his horse and climbed down Buck's throat went dry and his heart was about to explode, it hurt so bad.

Vin didn't move, nor did he feel any pain. Rather, he felt nothing. Buck didn't have to say a word, the rippling anguish in his eyes was now spiking a hole in his own chest. A part of him died then, a life force slipped from inside and spiraled away into the night. He'd felt grief before, burying his mother and father and adopted grandfather. But this was different. Shouldn't he feel a huge hole inside? Why wasn't that raw, throbbing pain there? He felt the loss of his friend but not in death. Was he too close to Chris? Hadn't it sunk in yet?

Buck had seen grief before, had felt it and carried it within himself. But never had he seen it so brutally naked and stark. Vin hurt to look at. It was is something sucked the life right out of him. He just stood there, not blinking or moving. But when Buck got closer and saw the normally emotive sky eyes so fragile and lost, his heart took over.

Vin wasn't aware of anything around him. The sky dissolved, the air disapated and the ground moved under his feet. A coldness enveloped him and then the pain hit. So hard and brutal, it drove him to his knees. He wrapped his arms around his chest and rocked.

"I'm sorry, Vin," Buck choked, gripping Tanner's shoulders from behind. He felt every sharp intake of breath and every hard fought choke of air. He couldn't take the pain away, he doubted if anyone ever would. But he'd hold on, and keep holding on.

The numbness that enveloped him began to wear off. Reality began poking at him and the questions formed. The first came from within, Vin was as startled as Buck when his voice sounded.

"Ya sure?"

The voice sounded so small, so young and tinted with fading hope that Buck winced. He helped Vin up and grabbed the younger man's elbows when his knees buckled. The eyes were searching his own, for some sign of hope. Buck could offer none, he held out the glass coin and Vin's eyes closed and he pulled away.

"We found him upriver, he'd been in the water awhile. Ezra and Josiah are taking him back to the ranch."

"Did he suffer?"

"No, Vin, it was quick. He uh... uh... somebody... shot him... point blank." He hated to do this and when Vin's head shot up, his lips moved but he couldn't get the words out.

"Chest?" Vin asked and Buck shook his head and moved his hand in an upward fashion. "Face?" He squeaked and the slight nod came. "Aw, fuck..."

Buck watched as Vin shot up and walked to the edge of the road. He saw the hands turn to fists and the head twist sideways facing the night breeze. The wind took his hair off his face and the fury in the eyes matched the clenched square jaw. The change was occuring before his eyes. The initial shock had worn off and Vin was losing control. Buck knew then that the bloodhunt would begin as soon as Chris was buried. Then he saw the hands trembling and the chest heaving. Vin was struggling and losing badly.

"M'fine!" Vin snapped, glaring at Buck.

"No, you ain't, son," Buck corrected, making the mistake of reaching out to Vin.

"I ain't yer son," Vin vented, his pent up rage seeking an outlet. "and leave me the fuck alone."

Buck let him ride off. He knew there wasn't anything he could say or do now that would reach Vin Tanner. But in the coming days, when they grieved, cried and toasted their friend's memory, he would try. And when Chris was laid in the earth and the last prayer went airborne, he'd ride with Vin, or after him. He watch out for the Texan, he owed Chris that much.

"I got his back, Chris," he whispered, stroking the glass coin in his palm.

He rode far enough behind Vin to give him room but close enough to watch out for him. He wasn't surprised when Vin turned off the road that led to the ranch. He knew where the heartbroken body was headed. Vin wasn't ready to face them tonight. He couldn't handle all the people and faces in the closed space. He wanted to feel Chris's essense, so he watched from the hillside until Vin went inside Chris's old cabin. Vin deserved this time alone with Chris's memory. It was a place he'd often sought refuge in when troubled and Chris always stood by him. So it was here where Vin would come to terms with the grievous loss of his soul. Buck had just turned away, seeking the ranch when a single sob sounded on the night breeze. Something so deep and primal it cut right through him.

Monday night
Maria Rosita Mine, Mexico

Miguel worked harder that usual this shift. He filled his cart with more than the usual amount. He knew the guards routine and he had their patterns memorized. So he knew that about an hour before the bell sounded for end of shift, they took a break. That was when he was going to teach a lesson to that arrogant blond American. He took what he wanted, extra food, extra water and anything else he wanted. The first time the American got in his face was the day he came into the mine. The guards had to split them up. He wouldn't make that mistake twice. This time, he'd find that blond dog and beat him senseless.

Greg kept pretty close to Chris, he'd seen Miguel eyeing him and knew the large Mexican was still sore about being put in his place. But then on the last check through, the guard split them up. He was now in a different tunnel . He had a feeling that the guards did that on purpose. They enjoyed the fighting between the men and even caused some of them. He tossed another hunk of ore in the cart and swiped his face. As soon as the last guard passed by, he began to count. Once he got to a hundred, he was heading back to check on Larabee.

Chris was done. He couldn't lift the pick and didn't try. His cart was full and he was spent. His shoulder throbbed and he knew the burns were infected. The stress on his bruised ribs was causing his lungs to ache. He didn't know if the cough he developed was from a fever from the burns or something else he'd caught. Was the throbbing headache from his concussion or something else? Then there was the ripping pain in his gut that doubled him over before he could stagger down an empty tunnel and let the painful, burning watery diarhea escape. Finally the pain subsided and he sat up, coughed and rested his hot face against the cold walls.

Miguel waited in the shadows for the dazed blond man's eyes to close, then he crept forward. He eyed the pick and thought on using it, but that wouldn't be any fun. He wanted to feel the white man's life die out as he choked him. He wanted to look right in the arrogant pale eyes and have his face the last thing the Gringo saw. So he moved forward until he was looming over the smaller injured man.

Chris knew the Mexican was behind him and moved his hand slightly to grab a good sized piece of ore. So when the beefy paw was laid on his shoulder and he was dragged to his feet, he swung around and hit the brute's face with the rock.

Miguel cried out and shoved Larabee hard into the side of the cart. He didn't give him a chance to recover, he grabbed the back of the uniform collar and hauled him up, turned him around and punched him hard in the stomach. Then when the blond fell to his knees, he yanked his head back by the hair and punched him in the jaw.

Chris grunted and struggled, using the only thing he had as a weapon. He ducked his head down and launched himself, sending Miguel hard into the wall. Then he kicked him in the back of the knee and sent two punches to his kidneys. The effort sent him to his knees and he was gasping for breath. He saw Miguel stagger to his feet and the hint of silver in his hand.

Miguel knew better than to use the homemade knife when the guards were around. He'd be punished severely. They didn't mind him using his fists, but a weapon was a violation. But in this dark tunnel, no guards were around. So he sent his right hand on a hard path upwards, seeking to stab the other man.

Chris managed to move enough to avoid a serious wound but the blade caught him under the ribs and he felt the burning pain as metal sliced through flesh. He rolled sideways and ducked just in time as the blade came flying towards his face. He grabbed the wayward wrist with both hands and snapped it hard, sending the knife to the ground.

"You think that will stop me?" Miguel panted, swiping the blood from his chin.

"No, I think this will," Chris growled, reaching for the knife and stabbing the huge man in the thigh.

Miguel screamed and grabbed Larabee by the shirt. In his effort to get away, Chris slipped and Miguel moved in. He slammed the greasy blond head into the wall and then while the other man slumped, he spun him around and began to choke him.

Chris felt as if his neck was caught in the middle of two pieces of steel. He couldn't move and tried futally to fight back. Spots appeared before his eyes and he felt himself slipping away. Just when he thought he was going to die in this dark place, he was released. He collapsed on the ground, coughing and choking. Through the blood running in his eyes, he blinked through his dazed state and saw Miguel on his knees. The Mexican man turned away from him and Chris saw blood running from a large area on the back of his head. Then he saw Greg and the broken wooden support beam in his hand. He tried to stand to help his new friend, but couldn't. He throat wouldn't open and he wondered for a moment if his windpipe was crushed. He rubbed it and continued to cough and wheeze as the two fought.

Greg knew he risked the wrath of the guards by leaving his post but he felt he had to. He snuck away to check on Chris and discovered Miguel was missing. He heard the echo of the odd sounds and arrived in the shaft just in time. Now the wounded bear had him in the middle of his sights. He got in a punch to the jaw and the neck, before Miguel swung back.

Miguel felt sick and dizzy, the blow to the head stunned him. The man before him was blurry and at times, there were two of them. So he swung wildly and when his fist caught something firm and one of the blurry twins went down, he pounced.

"Arghh..." Greg grunted when the full weight of the ox hit him. He was face down and pinned beneath Miguel's weight. He felt like a fish skewered on a stick. The dead weight was crushing him.

Chris finally got his legs and rose, staggering badly ahead. Miguel was lying on Greg and he knew by the gaping mouth, the other man couldn't breathe. He kicked Miguel's side and then his neck. That got his attention.

Miguel got up an went sideways, not able to keep his balance. That was enough for Greg to rise up. He and Chris advanced on the large coward, who was shaking his head and trying not to fall. Glancing over at Chris who nodded, the each drew back a fist and hit him hard.

Miguel fell backwards and something bit into his back. He looked stupidly at the pick went it came through his side. He was dead before he felt any pain.

For a moment, neither man moved. Then Greg saw Chris's legs wobbling and grabbed him, sitting him down. He heard the Spanish echoing in the tunnels and grimaced.

"We're fucked," Chris read the telling look on the other man's face.

"Pretty much," Greg agreed.

"Sorry," Larabee panted. He felt guilty that Greg would be punished for his fight.

"Don't be, I'm not," Greg stated as the guards arrived.

"What happened?"

Before Greg could answer he was hauled to his feet by two guards. The third one used the baton hard, striking him on the lower back. He cried out but didn't fall.

"Who killed this man?" The guard asked, nodding to the fourth guard who kicked the blond prisoner hard in the side.

"It was... an... accident..." Greg panted, rewarded by a hard punch to the gut and then the face.

"You lie... and you will both be punished..." He turned to the other guards. "Take them to the interrogation room. " He yanked up the leering blond man's head by the hair. "You will not be so arrogant by morning. You will beg like a woman."

"At least I know what a woman feels like," Chris shot back and never saw the blow from behind that sent the black curtain down.

Awareness came to him slowly. The first thing he felt was a burning pain in both arms. He tried to move and couldn't. He tried to stand up and realized he was kneeling. Then a hard slap to his face brought his eyes open. He saw the uniform belt buckle at his eye level and just beyond it, to the side he saw Greg Wilson. He was tied to a chair and his head was down. Blood dripped from his face onto his naked chest. His chest was black and blue and it looked like two of his fingers were broken. For a moment, he thought Wilson was dead. Then he saw the blood on his abdomen moving, he was alive.

"Sick... fuckin'... bastard..." Chris vented on the beating his friend had taken. Unlike Wilson, he was not in a chair. His arms were in shackles suspended above his head and he was forced to kneel before the tyrant.

"Your compadre won't be awake for our party, Senor Dog. That is a pity, he was a pretty Gringo. But my men like the pretty ones and he will be well used before he dies."

"What do you want?" Chris asked

"I want you to beg," Santiago sneered. "I want to hear your voice shake and see your balls quiver."

Chris ignored the sick warden's groping and glared at him hard. He knew the sticky mess on his face was blood as was the oozing wound on his side from the knife. The scarlet stain ran down into his waist.

The blows descended from all sides, to his back, face and gut. He would pass out and cold water would be thrown on him to rouse him. The pressure on his arms was unbearble and the burning pain was torture. He grit his teeth, grunted a few times but held his tongue. Vin's voice sounded again and he felt his strength return.

Show 'em yer balls."

But when Santiago ground his palm hard into the slash in his side, Larabee cried out.

"Look," Santiago noted, turning to the laughing guards. "His wound has opened up. Something should be done, yes?" He snapped his fingers and saw the flicker of fear appear briefly in the green eyes.

"Si, Patron," the closest guard answered, bringing over a glowing stick.

Chris steeled himself as best he could, but when that flame was laid to his wound and the skin sizzled, sending the acrid scent of his own burning flesh upwards, he screamed and then fell into a deep blackness.

"What now?" The guard asked, eyeing the two unconscious men.

"Diego, did you not say that El Presidente was sending us ten prisoners from the rebel camp tomorrow?"

"Si, Patron, that is what the courier said this morning."

"Well, then," Santiago crooned, cupping the chin of the bloodied face of Chris Larabee. He raised it up and grinned, tapping the slack cheek with his other hand. Pulling his crimson cloaked hand back, he eyed it and a slow smile formed. "The weather should be just right for a blood hunt, no?"

The excitement rose in the room and the guards began to cheer. Santiago held his hand up to silence them. "Take them to the infirmary, they will have tomorrow to recover, but before the sun rises the day after, they will be turned out.

It did the guards good to have this diversion; it had been some time since they enjoyed that sport. Sometimes they caught up to the prey and used their knives slowly, carving them up. Other times they were too late, the snakes, scorpions or brutal sun would cause them a slow painful death. The one certain element was that they never survived.

Paso del Norte
Late Monday Night

Inez normally locked up before midnight, but tonight was not a normal night. Her eyes were red from the tears she shed upon learning the news about Chris Larabee. The others were already at the ranch, but Buck came in town to tell Nathan and herself. The pain she felt inside was nothing compared to what she saw ebbing from every part of the lone man before her. He hadn't touched the shot he'd poured and appeared numb. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

"I am so sorry, Buck."

He took the shot, drained it and stood up, kissing her cheek and hugging her. She cried softly into his chest. Funny, Buck couldn't produce a tear. Was he too close to Chris? Although the dull ache inside had been plaguing him since the moment he saw the body, he felt oddly detached, as if it was a dream. Would the full gravity of the loss hit him in the coming days and weeks? Then he thought of someone who could use her warmth in his time of need. Someone he'd not turn away.

"Thanks for that, Darlin," Buck whispered, pulling back and sighing hard. "But there's somebody out there who's hurtin' a lot more than me. He needs you, tonight. I don't think he's ever been this cold."

"Where?" Her wet eyes sought out Buck's face.

Buck used his finger to wipe the tear streaks on her cheek. "At Chris's old shack."

She nodded, she would go to her Vin and he would not be alone tonight. She would take some food and blankets. She froze halfway across the floor and turned back to Buck. A mometary panic consumed her.

"What will I say?"

Buck strode across the room and took her hand. He held that gaze for a moment and saw more there than any words could equal. He smiled then and gave her hand good squeeze.

"You just said more to me with those eyes than any words would. You won't need words, Inez and if you do, you'll find the right ones. The ones from here..." He tapped the spot over her heart. "You tell Vin to come home."

"Si... si..."

Under the company of the full moon, Inez arrived at the cabin. She pulled two large sacks tied to either side of the saddle. One had food, the other blankets. She tiptoed onto the porch and peeked through the window. There was a soft light from the fireplace and it was then her heart broke. Vin was sitting on the floor barechested and wearing his longjohns, a bottle of whiskey between his drawn up knees. His face seemed like a statue until you saw the eyes. The anguish that was pouring from them reached right into her soul.

Despite the fire before him, VIn Tanner was cold. His skin was warm, due to the heat coming from the hearth. But the chill came from within, from a place deep inside. His soul was broken and that was causing him to feel a horrid chill that went to his bones. He just couldn't believe Chris was gone. He should be at the ranch, with the others but he wasn't ready for that yet. He'd lived alone for so long, mourned his losses alone, buried his family alone and grieved alone. He didn't know how to share the pain or wasn't sure he was ready to have someone comforting him.

"Vin?" She called out softly, setting the bags down and closing the door. He didn't hear her and she drew a blanket out, laying it behind him on the floor. She went past him into Chris's old room and took the quilt down from the closet. Chris kept things here because he still used... or had used, the cabin from time to time. She spotted Vin's cast off blue shirt on the bed. She stepped out of her skirt and took the blouse off, then pulled his shirt on. Wrapping the quilt around her, she returned to the front room and knelt in from of him. He never even blinked. SHe used one hand to touch his cheek and took a sharp breath.

"Inez?" Vin rasped, quickly eyeing the cabin. "How'd... ye..."

"Shh!" she put her fingers on his lips. "Buck came to town to tell Nathan and I about Chris. Oh, Vin..."

Vin sank into her arms, resting his weary head on her shoulder. He felt her rocking him and closed his eyes, accepting the soft cooeing sounds and the firm hand stroking his head. Finally, she drew back, looking right through his agony.

"You are cold... I will keep you warm." She pushed him back on the blanket and moved over him.

The need inside of him was overwhelming. So he accepted the gift of her heart and pulled her close. He poured all of his emotional want into the heartfelt lovemaking. It was if every star in the heavens fell onto them as they created their own song. Between the hours of darkness and light, under that quilt and surrounded by her love, he worshiped her body and celebrated her soul as they deserved.

It was still when Vin rose, pausing briefly on his elbow beside her. He loved her, he was sure of that now. And he would do whatever it took to clear his name and take her heart forever. He brushed the hair back off her cheek and marveled at the love that radiated off of her. He bent down to kiss her lips and then brushed his own over her temple.

"I love ya, Inez..."

"...love you too..." she whispered, cracking her eyes. She reached over for him but he was already rising.

"...keep warm..." He eased himself away and covered her up, stoking the fire so she would keep warm.

She curled up again, her skin still glowing from the rapture of the night. She thought he was coming back and dozed off again.

He wasn't just leaving to see Chris, he was on a mission. He'd had a very strong dream and needed to go to the mountains to speak to the spirit of his grandfather. His soul was troubled. He was sure what he felt was not the grief of losing Chris, rather the pain of not finding him. He couldn't understand why he couldn't accept his best friend's death. The dream was powerful, full of secrets. Dark, narrow places full of blood and pain. He felt Chris calling out to him. But he knew the dark place wasn't Hell. He needed to find out the answers. He dressed quickly, taking time to grab a sandwich from the bag she'd brought on his way out.

"You are leaving?" she yawned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. "You should eat, Vin."

"I got a sandwich." He held up the wrapped bundle.

"You are going to see Chris?" She rose, wrapping the blanket around her and shivering in the predawn chill. She didn't stop until she was resting against his chest and those arms were around her.

Vin held on for a moment and then pulled her back, tipping that beautiful face up with his hand.

"I got no words t'tell ya how much yer gift last night meant t'me, Inez. I ain't never been that cold. Ya filled that hole inside... ye gave me yer heart and chased that ice away." He paused to seek out those wonderful eyes. "I gotta go now... and not jest t'see Chris. I need t'talk to Gray Eagle, m'grandfather. His spirit is in the mountains. Somethin' ain't right inside. I ain't never had a pain like this, but somehow I can't feel Chris's death. It don't make no sense, but... I need t'seek out Gray Eagle, he'll guide me t'the answers I need. I won't be long."

"I will be here Vin Tanner, tomorrow and forever." She sealed the promise with a kiss and then he turned and was gone. She watched him ride away and her worry increased. What could she or the others do if he would not accept that Chris was truly gone?

Part Eight

Hope Ranch
PreDawn, Tuesday

Nobody was up yet when Vin arrived. He left his horse on the hill and crept down to the back porch. He eyed the windows spanning the back of the house and found Larabee's.

He saw a dim light and knew someone would be in there, sitting with him. He walked to the kitchen door and entered. He saw Nathan sprawled on the sofa, half inside an Indian blanket. The liquor bottles were on the table and Vin imagined they'd buried their sorrows a bit. He tiptoed past and down the hall, peeking inside the last room. He was surprised to find Josiah awake, reading the Bible in chair by the window.

Josiah saw a shadow in the doorframe and looked up. He was glad to see Vin and surprised by how well he looked. Well not well, but considering the depth of the tragedy at hand, he was fairly composed. The preacher folded the book and set it down, then stood up.

"He's been waitin' on ya, Vin."

"Ya been here all night?" Vin asked of Sanchez, but his eyes were riveted to the body on the bed. The corpse was wrapped up in blanket, just his right arm was exposed. The sight of the bloated, discolored hand made his stomach fire up. He didn't have to see above that, he'd seen men with their faces blown away before.

"Buck sat for awhile... we took turns. Nathan'll be up in a few hours, we'll have to take him to town to the undertaker." Sanchez walked over and stood before Vin. He laid a hand on each slumped shoulder and gave a solid tug. "You take your time, Vin. I'm gonna grab a little sleep, it's going to be a long day."

Vin just nodded but turned just as the older man was reaching the door of his own room across the hall.

"'siah?" Vin waited under the strong, smokey blue eyes met his own. "Thanks fer sittin' with 'im." The other man nodded and smiled, then turned inside.

Vin closed the door and shifted a bit nervously. Oddly, the awful cold he'd been consumed with hadn't returned. He couldn't explain it, but he knew somehow that the grotesque, bloated body a few feet away was not his best friend. He moved closer and knelt down, resting a hand on the swollen one on the bed. He felt nothing inside. No pain, no agony, no unbounded depth of loss. Something was very wrong. He moved his other hand to the spot over the blanket where Chris's heart would be. He pressed down hard and closed his eyes.

Nothing.

He turned his face upwards and began to pray. He said the prayer of the dead that he'd learned from his grandfather. The softly drawled words of the language he'd come to embrace surrounded him. Then he felt the old man's spirit enfold him. But it was not comfort he felt, rather it was a sense of preparation. The same feeling he'd gotten whenever Gray Eagle took him on a journey or began a new lesson.

"I don't understand..." Vin whispered and frowned when the reply came.

Come, I will show you.

Then it was gone and he was alone again. He took his hands back and felt his purpose growing. He couldn't tell his friends his mission, they would probably think he was crazy or griefstricken or not accepting the fact Larabee was dead. They wouldn't understand how his spiritual beliefs coupled with the strong bond he had with Chris told him the truth.

Chris Larabee was not the corpse before him and he felt that the odd dream he'd had was a key . Chris was out there somewhere, lost in the dark and reaching out for him. He would seek out Gray Eagle to show him the way. He slipped through the window and into the darkness, leaving as quickly as he'd came. He paused as he rode under the sign bearing the name of the ranch and sent his vow airborne.

"Hold on, cowboy, I'll find ya."

Tuesday Morning
Maria Rosita Mine, Infirmary

Despite the pain he was in, Greg Wilson wasn't sleeping. He'd gotten a few hours rest during the night but the constant thrashing and coughing from the injured blond in the next bed was unsettling. The body was bathed in fever, the skin slick with sweat and the damp cheeks colored rosy. When the body thrashed too much, he would call out and sometimes Larabee quieted.

He was surprised to see that Chris's wounds had been tended to and they'd each been given good treatment. He saw the doctor ordering a full tray for breakfast and even the cleanliness of the bed and room shocked him. He wasn't sure what to make of this, but he didn't trust Santiago. He felt like a sated lamb being led to slaughter. Was that the goal? Were they to be executed and this was their last 'meal'? His thoughts were interupted by a cry of anguish next to him.

"VIN!"

"Chris?" Greg sat up, put his legs over the bed and grimaced, clutching his bruised ribs. Two of his fingers were in small wooden splints and wrapped up. The cuts to his face had been stitched as well. He limped painfully to the bed and shook the wet shoulder.

"Hey... wake up..."

Chris's eyes shot open and he began to gasp for breath. He put his hand to his throat and tried to rip away some invisible binding. He began to cough then, violently. Someone put a towel in front of him and he threw up into it. A foul mixture of water and yellow muck came out. His chest hurt, his head hurt and his side was throbbing . He eyed the pale walls and the light coming in a window.

"...hell... am... I..."

"Hell would be a good guess," Greg replied, sitting on the chair by the bed. They were each dressed in light fitting cotton pants with no shirts.

"Greg?" Chris saw the battered face and body and it all came back. "Thought we were dead.."

"You might not be wrong," Wilson offered. "Clean sheets, good bed, medical care, they got food on the way." He paused, sighing hard and shaking his dark head. " I smell a rat."

"He's up to something," Chris agreed of Santiago, hoisting his weak body up on one elbow to reach for his cup. Greg got it and held it and Larabee drained it twice, marvelling at the cold water's quality.

Chris saw Greg yawning and thought on the horrid dreams he had all night. "Sorry... about... that... weird dreams..."

"About Vin?"

Chris looked up sharply and then away. He couldn't make Greg understand the fear gnawing inside of him. He couldn't hear Vin's voice much anymore. The dream was strong, he was in the mine screaming for Vin, as Miguel began to slice him up. Even Gideon Hawkes made an appearance, hacking away at his limbs with a hatchet. But now his fear was growing. His fevered state and the long hours in the dark had him confused. He had no idea how long they'd been here. What if Vin thought he was dead? Then he chased that away, Vin would keep hunting until he found him, dead or alive.

Greg didn't press the seriously ill man with any more questions. When the wet blond head went back on to the pillow, he retreated to his own bed. He hoped that 'Vin' was coming and soon. He wasn't sure how long his friend could hold out.

Chris turned on his side, to give the other throbbing side a break. He watched the light tap in the window and saw the hills just beyond. They couldn't be that far over the border, maybe, just maybe Vin and the others were coming.

"Hurry, Vin..." he whispered, his hope fleeting.

Hope Ranch
Early Morning, Tuesday

JD sat quietly by Chris. He'd woken up early and all the others were sleeping. So he'd decided to spend some time with Chris. He wasn't sure how to fix the pain inside. It was different from the pain of losing his mother. Not as deep of course, but on a different level, more mature and profound. Chris Larabee was more than a friend, he was a mentor. From the moment JD stepped off that stagecoach and watched him go up against a mob and stand them down, he was more than impressed. At first, he'd done everything he could to try to impress the brooding leader. But as time wore on and he became used to his new boots, something changed. He'd grown, matured and had life experiences that caused a more natural development. In the process, in ways and times he didn't expect it, he'd gained respect from Chris. But over the last year and half, the depth of the friendship had grown.

In the beginning, he'd wanted so badly to have Chris respect him. All he could do was overwork and overcompensate to make Chris 'see' how he wasn't just a kid. But the harder he tried, the more he screwed up. Then as those early weeks bled into months, he did grow. He learned something from each of the six and the adventures they shared. And it happened when he wasn't even trying. It was after a bank robbery when he and Nathan had been outgunned. But they'd worked together and he'd used his head. When the dust cleared, Chris was the first person to come over to him. There it was, before the 'Good, job, JD', came out. The green eyes were shining with respect.

It felt damned good.

"It's not fair," he choked, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Buck was on the porch, lost in the sweet memories of the past when a hand tapped his shoulder. He blinked, sat forward and saw the dark-skinned hand bearing a mug. He accepted the hot beverage and sipped it without tasting much.

"Thanks, Nate." His voice was tinged with sorrow and his heart was heavier than it had been in years. This was one dawn he didn't want to come. He just couldn't imagine not hearing Chris's voice or having that rock solid presence next to him.

"Breakfast is almost done."

"I'm not hungry," Buck decided, using the mug to warm his hands. He just couldn't seem to warm up.

"Don't expect anyone will be," Jackson offered, sitting down next to Buck. He knew where Buck's heart was, his own was still coping. "Never met anyone like 'im. Stood taller than most."

"For a fact," Buck agreed. He thought on the week before when Chris was laid up at Nathan's. He winced then, feeling the sting of his own words. Little did he know that they would come back to haunt him. "...opened my mouth again..."

"What?" Nathan turned, seeing something more than sorry. "Buck? This wasn't yer fault."

"No... not that," Buck replied. "Last week in the clinic, he was talkin' about Jake and dyin' alone. Of course I had to make a joke out of it, tellin' him he wouldn't..."

"Buck, ya knew him fuhr how long?"

"Over a dozen years..."

"He kept ya close fuhr a reason. He admired ya Buck, yer a helluva friend. He chose ya and yer humor and that heart ya got is a big part o'it."

Buck took those warm words and held them close. He nodded, let out a painful breath and sat back. He was still cold, but not like he'd been before. He thought on the name that their ranch held. This place was important to Chris and he would hold on that feeling and the name that bore that out.

Hope

It was a place they'd created to heal broken spirits and bodies. Maybe God led them here for a reason. Maybe he and Vin would lean on each other and this magical place and the love they put into working it would heal them now. He wondered how Vin was doing and was surprised he wasn't here yet. He shook his head then, wondering about his choice.

"I shouldn't have left him alone," Buck thought aloud.

"Who?" Josiah asked, having just woken up and heard the voices outside.

"Vin." Buck rose up and put his hands on his hips. "I'm gonna ride to the cabin. I shouldn't have left him there."

"He's not there," Josiah said, "He got in a few hours ago, I left him with Chris."

Buck, Nathan and Josiah walked through the house and tapped on the door where the body was lying. Buck tapped on the door again and put his hand on the knob. "Vin? Is it okay if we come in?"

"He's not here."

"JD?" Buck asked, turning the knob and entering the room. The youth stood up and eyed the trio in the doorway.

"Where did he go?" Josiah asked, looking around in the hallway. "Anybody see him outside?"

"Josiah, I couldn't sleep, I came in here just as the sun came up. Chris was alone." Dunne eyed the hallway. "I don't think he's here."

"He was here, it was still dark outside." Sanchez wheeled back and sped through the house, then looked outside. "I was reading the Bible and looked up and he was in the doorway. I gave him some time alone with Chris and went to bed."

"Could be it was t'much fuhr 'im. Vin ain't used t'bein' crowded. Maybe he don't know how t'handle it with all o'us here," Nathan added.

"He wouldn't leave Chris," JD protested. "Especially if he just got here. Why would he leave? I don't get it."

"Maybe Nathan's right," Buck surmised, "Maybe seein' Chris hit him hard and he's takin' a ride. If he don't show up in town, I'll head back to the cabin."

Vin wasn't sure how much time passed when he roused. He heard the sounds of the wildlife chittering around him and a soft breeze complimenting the scent of pine and fresh water. The sun had moved, it was in the afternoon. He was lightheaded and didn't rise right away. He knew from past experience that the dizzy sensation wouldn't leave for awhile. The journey was hard work and took a lot of physical strain on the body. Usually, he slept afterwards as it was exhausting, but he didn't have time to rest. He took a long draw from his canteen and laid back, resting safe in the bosom of Mother Earth.

His quest had been partially successful. He'd prayed long and hard; harder than he'd ever attempted before. When he succumbed to the sleepworld, he'd encountered Gray Eagle's spirit almost at once. The solitary figure beckoned to him and he'd followed and watched for signs of the answers he sought. But he kept going in a circle, coming right back to the place where he'd started. Then the dream was done.

Sighing, hard, he took several deep breaths and slowly sat up. He frowned and thought for a moment, continuing the steady, even breaths to get his strength back. The odd vision wouldn't leave him alone. His brow furrowed and drank more water, slowly, closing his eyes and waiting for the dizziness to pass. Again he thought of odd pattern of the dream. Then it came to him, as if Gray Eagle was whispering to him.

"Start at the beginnin'." he rasped, his uneven heart beating hard and causing his breath to come in short pants. That's what it meant!!! He gathered his things, got his horse packed and then knelt by the river, tossing cold water on his face. Lifting his wet skin to the warm hand of the sun, he absorbed the heat and used it, then climbed onto his horse. His first stop in his quest for the truth was in Grovers Pass. That was where Chris was last seen, that was the 'beginning' of the answer.

Paso Del Norte
Late Afternoon

"Where the hell is he?" Buck Wilmington asked of the missing Texan, standing on the boardwalk outside the saloon.

He eyed the roof and JD Dunne peered down at him, shaking his dark head. Vin had not been up there. The lofty retreat was a favorite spot for Vin, especially when he was troubled. He could be alone, yet close to them in case needed. He turned to the east and Josiah came out of the boarding house also shaking his head. Nathan was walking from across the street, his head shake indicating he'd also come up empty. Nobody in town had seen Vin. The healer than headed into the undertaker's office.

"Dammit, Vin... this ain't the time to turtle up," the rogue mumbled.

"He is with his grandfather," Inez said, exiting the saloon.

"Was he here?" Buck asked.

"No, he left me at the cabin before the sun came up. He said he was going to see Chris and then his grandfather, Gray... Gray..."

"Gray Eagle," Josiah added, having just joined them. "He told me about him once, he was very close to that old man."

"I think he wanted to go to the mountains to be close to him, he was troubled by something. He would not tell me what, but he will return, he promised me." Inez's eyes moved to the horizon. Wherever he was her heart was with him.

Buck and Josiah exchanged a look over the softened tone of her voice and the way her eyes went to the horizon. Buck knew somehow that whatever happened in the cabin last night had touched them both.

"You don't think he's gonna go hunt down the animal that killed Chris?" Buck worried.

"Not before he's buried, Vin wouldn't do that," Josiah answered as Ezra waved at them from a few yards away.

"Gentlemen, a word?" Standish supplied, then turned back to the undertaker's. Buck's and Josiah's long strides took them up the path quickly and he held the door for them. "There appears to be a problem."

"What kind of problem? Buck asked, walking into the parlor and turning right when he saw Nathan and the undertaker standing over the body.

"Yuh sure this is Chris?" Nate asked Josiah and Buck who'd found the corpse. Although he'd posed the question to both men, it was Buck's irate eyes that he held.

"Of course I am!" Buck shouted, "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Look, Buck," Nathan placated, drawing the sheet back from the body's chest. "I know it's hard t'tell, on accounta the body bein' so bloated up and discolored. "But I sewed his shoulder last week, I can't find the scar or the stitches." He nodded to the undertaker who lifted the corpse onto's it's side.

"Jesus, Nathan, I don't want to see this," Buck choked, gagging at the horrific sight and stench.

"Well yer gonna see it," Jackson persisted, using a slender metal rod to tap a spot on the lower back. "This is from an operation, looks like a kidney got took out. Chris don't have that scar." He looked back and saw the blood drain from Buck's face and Josiah back up, shaking his head. "I'm just sayin', after seein' this, I can't swear it's him. I know it's hard t'tell, cause it's disfigured, but still, a body can't grow a scar like that or lose one."

"Aw, shit," Buck hissed, swaying hard when the full impact of the reality hit him hard. "What the hell did I do?"

"Easy, Buck," Ezra soothed, leading him to a chair. He sat the shocked man down and rested a single hand on one tan-coated shoulder. "You did nothing to berate yourself for. The clothing, the gun, even the personal items in the exact place you were intended to find them."

"Intended?" JD asked, having entered the room in time to hear and see the clues. "Like you mean somebody killed that guy and wanted us to think it's Chris?"

"Precisely," Standish suggested. "Whatever had befallen our missing comrade, I agree with Nathan, that isn't him. "

"Somebody went to a lot of trouble to make it look that way," Josiah added.

"Gentlemen, this body has to be buried, it's state of decomposition dictates that." The undertaker rested the body on it's back and covered it again.

"Alright, go ahead and bury him, just don't put a stone up," Buck said, eyeing the others. He nodded to Ezra, grateful for the support and stood up. "We'll split up and cover some of the towns near the river. We know he left Grovers Pass, so we don't need to go back there. JD, you and Ezra take the east side of the river, there's a few rough towns along that crest. He could have ridden into something."

"Folks know about us," Nathan said of the reputation they now had. "Could be somebody didn't want us to come huntin' 'em."

"Nathan and I'll cover the west side," Josiah said. "If we come up dry, we'll meet back at Grovers Pass in a couple days."

"I'll wait for Vin." Buck paused, exposing his need in his voice and posture. They all understood and nodded back. "If he don't show up by morning, I'll go find him. I know the spots he likes up in the hills."

"Good enough, we leave in an hour." Josiah turned to JD. "Send another wire to the Travis's so Mary knows."

Within the hour, they left town, riding partially on the same road then splitting up. Each rode a bit lighter and sat taller. For the time being, they all felt that Chris Larabee wasn't dead. It might be a slight, shimmering shard of hope but they held on tight, encouraging that ember to grow and flourish. Was he being held prisoner? Had he been injured and the responsible party robbed him of his clothes? Had that person been killed by someone who thought they killed Chris? Time would tell.

Nightfall
Maria Rosita Mine
Tuesday

Chris woke up and regretted it immediately. Gone was the painless black void he'd been lost in. With the return of his conscious state came pain. Not just any pain, unending waves of brutal agony. He knew there was a fever inside of him and it was getting worse. Fighting it took what little strength he had. The various wounds had been cleaned but their severity dictated that it might be too late. He moaned and rolled, trying to find a comfortable place in the bed.

"Easy, Chris," Greg called out, walking gingerly to the other bed. "Let's get you up, maybe it'll be easier to breathe."

"...yeah..." Larabee grunted, letting the other man ease him up. His head flopped against Greg's chest and he wrapped his arm around the other's, until he heard rustling noises an was laid back against a bank of fresh pillows.

"Better?"

"Yeah," Chris nodded, taking the mug of water. He couldn't get enough of it and drained two more.

Greg moved his chair closer and used the table next to Chris's bed to place the tray of food. Like breakfast and lunch, it was a full platter of solid food. There was roasted chicken, vegetables, cornbread, a tangy soup and a full jug of apple cider. He put the spare tray over Larabee's lap and put a plate of food on it. As he was pouring a mug of cider, he noticed how fast the blond was eating.

"Not so fast, you'll get sick," he warned.

Chris put the fork down, took a sip of cider and contemplated their odd day. He knew that Santiago had some sick plan ahead. He wasn't spoiling them because he got a change of heart. He slowed his pace, finished his meal and drank some of the tomato-based soup. He wasn't sure how long he'd been here, but felt sure by now the others were looking for him.

"Is it me, or do you feel like this is the 'last' meal?" Greg asked, spearing a potato.

"I can't figure it out," Chris answered, wincing and rubbing the burned over stab wound in his side. It was throbbing and hot to the touch. "That sick bastard is up to something."

Chris laid his throbbing head back on the pillows. The multiple bruises covering his body were all screaming for attention. He hoped that the nagging cough and thick feeling in his chest wouldn't get worse. He must dozed off because when he woke up, it was dark outside. A chill ran up his spine and he slowly turned his head to the left. There in the shadows was the evil warden.

"You are awake, good."

Chris shifted in the bed and saw that Greg was eyeing Santiago with a cold eye as well. Santiago stepped closer to the bed, tapping a small leather baton against his other hand. He didn't say anything at first, rather he paused at Greg's bed and poked at the discolored, injured ribs. He was glad when Greg grabbed the baton and shoved it back.

"Good... good... the rest has improved your body and you have not lost your fire. You would be well advised to hold onto that for tomorrow. You will need it."

"Why?" Chris asked, not moving when the brute moved to his bed. The baton was tossed to the side and he grabbed the wrist when the hand began to descend.

"Do you wish for me to call the guards? They can hold you down if you would prefer that method."

"Sick, fuckin' animal," Chris mumbled, removing his hand.

He bit his lip but did not flinch when the cold hand probed his tender side. Then the hard fingers slid down his ribcage, pushing into the swollen, bruised flesh. CHris pressed back hard into the sheet but did not cry out. Santiago's hands moved slowly over his chest and lower abdomen, grinding hard into the injured areas. Twice, Larabee fisted his hands in pain but remained silent.

"You have a fever, Senor. I am sure the doctor will give you something to make you sleep."

"Save it," Chris rasped, shoving the hand away. "I can sleep fine without it."

"I was not asking." Santiago snapped his fingers and the doctor appeared with a mug. He took the mug and held it out. The blond glared openly at at him and he put one hand up to signal the guards. "If you do not take this medicine on your own, Senor Dog, I will adminster it to you, either by mouth or through a needle. I am afraid we do not have very good needles, they are dull and old."

Chris wanted to leap out of the bed and wipe that sick, twisted smile off of Santiago's face. But Vin's drawl echoed and he regained his composure.

Keep yer head, Lar'bee.

He took the mug, sniffed it and eyed the contents.

"It will only make you sleep," the doctor advised.

"And I'm supposed to trust you?" Larabee scoffed, draining the mug and shoving it against Santiago's chest.

"Sleep well, Gringo dogs," Santiago stated, finally turning away. He walked to the doorway and turned back, his face split by an sick leer. "Raul will be here early to help you prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Greg asked

"You will find out in the morning," Santiago laughed, shutting the door.

Despite the nagging questions on his fevered brain, the sedative worked quickly and Chris was soon sleeping. His dreams were disturbing, full of dark places, demons with steely knives that slashed out at him and in the background, the scarred face of the Mexican tyrant who held his fate in his dirty hands.

Grovers Pass
Tuesday Night

Vin Tanner stood at the end of the main street near the livery. He'd spent a few hours ducking in and out of the stores, asking about Chris. Most didn't remember him, the small town was a busy stage stop and too many faces passed through. The waitress in the cafe said she spoke to him and that he ate that last meal alone, rather than with the pretty woman he'd been spending time with all week. The hotel clerk remembered seeing him most of the week with an attractive women. He identified her as 'Mrs. Brown' and confirmed that she was due to leave on Sunday, but stayed on for additional days. But he said she left on the stage on Thursday afternoon and Chris left after dinner, alone. The livery man confirmed that and remembered Chris because he left a good tip before he departed on Thursday. The direction indicated that he had been heading home.

He decided to try the saloon. Now that night fell, there would be a different mix of customers. Somebody mght remember him. As frustrated as he was by the lack of clues, the feeling inside of him that Chris was alive was getting stronger. He was more determined that ever to find his missing friend. So lost in thought was he, that he didn't see the woman step out of the shadows to entice him. He ended up walking right into her.

"I'm sorry," Vin offered, helping her up. "I wasn't lookin'. Did I hurt ya?"

"No, sugar," she replied, eyeing the handsome stranger. "You alone? It's awfully chilly tonight. I can keep you warm." She ran a hand under his coat, but found it snagged and gently pushed back.

"Sorry, Miss, I'm spoke fer."

There was a lingering sadness in his voice and the worry etched on his face was reflected in those pretty eyes. "You okay, sugar? You don't look so good."

"Nuthin' ya can fix, but thanks Miss." He tipped his hat and saw the dress for the first time. Although it was barely covering her assets, it was a pretty color. "That's a nice color, that green suits yer eyes, it's real fetchin'."

"Thank you, sugar," she answered, stroking his cheek. "Whoever she is, she sure is lucky."

"No, Ma'am, I'm the lucky one, but thanks."

Vin spent another hour in the saloon, but netted nothing. He was cold and hungry. The saloon fare was not to his liking. The cafe was closed so he'd have to make do with hardtack until breakfast. He shivered, tugging his coat collar up and bending forward slightly to ward off the chilly wind.

Sally was headed back to her room, deciding to call it a night. She saw the young man who she'd spoken to earlier, shivering on the street. She walked towards the steps to her room and paused. She turned back and saw his face under the lamplight. He looked tired and cold and so alone.

"Girl, you're losin' your touch," she mumbed, turning back. She caught his eye and motioned.

Vin walked over and nodded to her, waiting until he was a few feet away.

"Sugar, you're breakin' my heart with that sad face. Why don't you come inside for awhile?"

"Ma'am," Vin began, "Yer real pretty but I can't..."

"Hush that sweet mouth," she sassed ,taking his hand. "Lord, you're freezing. All I'm offering is a warm room and some hot coffee. What goes on in my room isn't anyone's business."

Vin was freezing and even for a little while, the coffee and being out of the wind would help. So he followed her upstairs and ducked inside the tidy room. He took his hat off and sat down, rubbing his hands together.

"Here you go, sugar," she offered coffee and saw his eyes dwell on the plate of food she'd ordered. "My mama said to stay away from stray orphans or kittens. She never warned me about eyes like yours. Here..."

"I couldn't, Ma'am, that's yer supper."

"How about if we share?"

She made him a plate of ham, some potato salad and cheese, then stepped behind the painted folding screen and stepping out of the restrictive clothing. She slipped a pretty rose gown on with flowers on it and tied the sash. She took a small bit of ham and cheese, some coffee and sat down on the other side of the table. He was eating slowly, savoring each piece.

"What brings you to town?"

"Lookin' fer a friend," Vin answered, sipping the coffee. "This is real good. I ain't had nuthin' all day."

"I'd never guess," she laughed by the large amount he'd consumed. "So you're the one. I heard someone was asking about a tall, blond man."

"Chris!" Vin's head shot up. "Ya seen 'im? He left here on Thursday and never got home. We own a spread a couple hours from here, so he shoudda got home Thursday night." He put his fork down and ran a hand through his hair.

"You better hope he didn't get sidetracked," she voiced her concern.

"Whaddya mean?" Vin asked, watching her face carefully. He saw something there that worried him. She had fright in her dark eyes.

"You didn't hear this from me, okay?" She began and his head nodded. "There's a tent city outside town, buried in a spot that you'd never see, it't not on any map. The road that leads to it is very narrow. It's a well hidden and well guarded gambling den with a well cared for brothel."

"How far?" Vin stood up and she motioned for him to sit.

"Listen to me, sugar, don't go alone. Strangers that ride into that place alone, don't ride out."

Vin felt a chill run down his spine as she spoke and every hair stood on end. Had Chris gotten lost on the way home? Had the tent city claimed him? Was he trapped there? Or had someone recognized him ?

"Don't ride out?" Vin puzzled, "How so?"

"The fella that runs the place, his name is Gilbert. He's called Copperhead, and from what I've heard, he really is a snake. He pours a lot of money into the place, the very best food, liquor, gambling and women. You better pray your friend didn't end up there, he'd be better off dead."

"Don't say that," Vin warned, then narrowed his eyes suspicously. "Why?"

"There is a rumor that he makes a good deal of money by supplying slave labor to a mine in Mexico."

"Shit!" Vin shot back in the chair, his heart pounding wildly. "I bet that's what happened t'im. That bastard took him prisoner. How'd ya come t'know this?"

"A girl that used to work here, Melissa, left with him one night. She was young, beautiful and very talented that way. He offered her a lot of money. About six months later, she stopped here one night late. She needed money. She was beat up, hurt, it was awful. She told me he'd made her use a young man, slip drugs into his whiskey. Then she saw them strip him down, put him in prisoner's clothes and load him into a wagon. She talked to some of the other girls and they told her about the mine and the slave business. That Copper singled out the loners figuring nobody would miss them. She felt awful and tried to leave. Gilbert raped her and beat her. She managed to get away while he was sleeping. I gave her all the money I had and she headed East."

Vin was reeling by the information. It all fit now, all the missing pieces. Chris must have been lured in and possibly after they drugged him, somebody recognized him. Maybe they knew he was working for the Judge and would be missed. So they found a 'body' to replace him and took the man's face. He stood up, grabbing his coat and hat. He took some silver out and put the coins on the table.

"When's the telegraph close?"

"Ten minutes, sugar, you better hurry." She followed him to the door and caught him by the elbow. "Sugar, please don't go there alone. He's a viper. You go asking questions and you'll wake up in prison over the border."

"I ain't goin' alone, Ma'am. I'm gonna wire m'friends and the Judge. How do I find this place?'

"It's not Ma'am, it's Sally." She moved to the table and got a piece of paper and a pencil She made a few marks, shaking her head. "I'm not much for drawin'. This is the road south of town, where your friend went. About an hour or so down there is a very small fork, so small at first your eyes trick you into thinking you can't go further. Somewhere down that fork is the tent city."

"Okay," Vin said, pausing by the door. "Name's Vin. I can't thank ya enough, Miss Sally. Ya may have jest saved his life... and mine."

"You can thank me when this is over by letting me know you're safe."

"I'll do more'n that. If Chris gets outta this alive. Ya'll never have t'work again."

She watched him scurry quickly to the Telegraph and sighed in relief when he made it inside. She watched until she saw him leave, shoving a yellow paper in his pocket. He must have gotten a reply from his friends, she was glad for that. She crossed herself and said a prayer for him and his missing friend.

Part Nine

Paso Del Norte

Inez was near the saloon door when she heard Buck shouting from across the street. She stepped outside as his boots hit the boardwalk. He caught her and gave her shoulders a good squeeze.

"He's not dead. I'm not sure of the details, but Vin wired from Grovers Pass." He handed her the wire.

She moved back inside to get some light and quickly scanned the yellow paper. With each word, her heart began to race and her pulse quickened.

"Chris alive. Come now. Marker Depot."

"Marker Depot is a stage stop about a half hour or so from Grovers Pass. I'm not sure of what he found, but it's the first bit of hope we've had. " Buck sat down hard on the nearest chair and covered his face with both hands. "Damn... damn..."

Inez moved behind him and swallowed hard at the choked voice and the slight tremble of his hands. She gripped the back of his shoulders and massaged gently. When she felt he'd recovered, she posed a question, "How do we contact the others?"

"Well." Buck pulled out a paper with names on it . "Josiah and Ezra both wired. Here's where they'll be tomorrow. They check in at each town to see if anyone found anything. I need you to wire Holcomb and Tenderfoot first thing in the morning." Buck scribbled a note. "I'll be up with Vin and we'll wait for them at Marker Depot."

"Si... si..." She nodded, taking the note. She followed him outside and waited until he was on his horse. "Buck... be careful."

"Careful?" He leaned over the pommel and gifted her with a winning Wilmington smile. He knew she was also worried about Vin. "Darlin, that's my middle name. Don't you worry, I'll bring him back to you, Inez. "

"Gracias!"

Marker Depot was open and Vin was inside, pacing restlessly waiting for Buck to arrive. It was after midnight and as exhausted as he was, his nerves were jumping. He had been thinking of a way to get an inside man into the tent city. Ezra was the best at that, making a profitable living out of it. Maybe he could think of a way they could find out more about the place in Mexico where Larabee had been taken. He looked up at the sound of hooves bearing down on the lonely night. He was halfway to the door when the large man burst through.

"Where the hell did you get to?" Buck directed at the younger man. He didn't miss the exhaustion painted on every feature. "I tried all day to find you. Why didn't you tell me you were riding out?"

"Never mind that," Vin pressed, "He's alive." He nodded to the door and they went outside.

"Nathan figured that out when the undertaker got a hold of the body. Scars that didn't add up and others missing. Somebody sent to a lot of trouble to make us think he was dead."

"Where's the others?"

"Lookin' for your sorry ass!" Buck growled. "You never came home, you weren't in town. We were worried. We thought you went huntin. Vin, when Nathan got that body to the undertaker and they stripped him, it wasn't Chris. So they paired up to hunt the rivers town for you or Chris. I stayed behind to see if you were still in the mountains."

"I went to see Gray Eagle and the vision told me to come back t'the beginnin'. I spent most of the afternoon and night askin' around. He left alone after eatin' on Thursday. I didn't have any luck until a few hours ago. There's a workin' gal, Sally, who took pity on me."

"I wonder why?" Buck teased.

"She told me she hoped my friend hadn't gone off and ended up in a tent city near here. The feller that owns it, Copperhead Gilbert, makes it real easy for strangers. Puts up expensive tents for winin', dinin', gamblin' and women. But she said he makes a lot o'money sellin' loners inta slavery in Mexico."

"They ride in and never ride out," Buck surmised. "How far is this place?"

"Ya know where that small fork is on the way home?" Vin nodded to the dark road. "Looks like ya wouldn't fit? Well there's a road there, I checked b'fore I came back here. I didn't go far cause I seen a couple men who wasn't hidin' t'well. They got it guarded at night."

"Lookin' for riders," Buck guessed. "Okay, we'll Inez is gonna wire Josiah and Ezra first thing. They outta be here by noon or so. In the meantime, you look like five miles of bad road, son."

"I ain't tired," Vin lied, eyeing that dark road.

"No way, not in the dark with the road guarded, you're smarter than that," Buck warned

"Yeah, I know." Vin huffed in annoyance. "I hate wastin' time. No tellin' where he is or how bad he's hurtin'."

"Well, if this guy Copperhead is supplyin' somebody in Mexico with slave labor, it's most likely for a mine. The hills south of the border are littered with them. So once we find out where, we wire the Judge. We can't ride into Mexico without him knowin'." He gently pushed the sagging shoulders towards the door. "In the meantime, you're gonna get that mangy head down and get some sleep. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow."

Buck wasn't suprised that despite his vague curses in Indian, Spanish and Vinspeak, the weary Texan did fall to sleep almost immediately. He was stretched out on the floor, curled up with his coat covering him. He saw Vin shivering in his sleep and swore, taking his own coat off and putting it over him.

"I swear you're half lizard," Buck complained, moving closer to the fire in the black stove in the corner. He found a decent sized chair and settled in, dozing lightly and keeping an eye on Tanner. He wondered where Chris was this cold night. He hoped his missing friend knew somehow that they were coming for him. "Hold on, pard, hold on."

Maria Rosita Mine
Wednesday, Dawn

The sun bathed the two unknowing pawns in a golden light. Their battered and bruised bodies were painful to gaze upon. Santiago lingered by the blond man's bed, a cruel smile was easily born when he viewed the feverish body. Pity that the injuries and illness would hamper what may have been a good blood hunt. He tapped a thin baton in his palm, nodding to the guard to draw the blanket down. He then stood over the helpless male and lashed the rod across his chest.

Chris's eyes shot open when his groggy brain registered pain. He blinked against the harsh sunlight coming in the windows. The darkened figured by the bed who was poking his tender body remained a mystery for a moment. When the tip of the object in his hand pressed into wounded side, he cried out, grabbing it and shoving it away.

"So, you are finally awake," Santiago oozed, "Your breakfast is here. Raul will return in twenty minutes. You will be dressed and ready to leave."

He watched as Larabee struggled to rise, shaking his stuporous head. The drug given the night before was still in his system. Once in a sitting position, the sluggish face turned towards him. The body might not be willing, but the eyes were on fire. They nearly glowed green at him. That brought a thin smile. Maybe it would be a good hunt after all.

"Once you finish eating, you will wash across the hall, your clothes are there. You will not waste my time, or Raul will 'assist' you, comprehende?"

Chris didn't give the warden the satisfaction, he held the black eyes a moment, then turned to his tray of food. He didn't look up when the boots clicked on the tile floor and departed. The platter had several warm tortillas, a plate of eggs, ham, peppers and onions. There was also fruit, muffins and coffee. He glanced at Greg who was as apprehensive as he was but eating quickly. Chris followed suit, he wasn't sure what they were up to, but he would need his strength.

Raul waited until the two men were done eating and walked towards the bed. "You have ten minutes."

Wordlessly, Greg slid from his bed, wincing as every sore muscle screamed at him. His ribs throbbed and it hurt to breathe. He moved over when Chris sat up and moved his legs off the bed.

"I'm okay, Greg," Chris managed and clenched his teeth against the pain.

The stab wound that had been burned shut hurt like hell. His ribs ached, his head hurt and although the fever was no worse, it wasn't better. His back protested and he felt his legs buckle. He was glad for the hand that latched onto his elbow.

The room across the hall was not large, but it did have two sinks, towels, soap and a privvy in the corner. The men didn't waste time, taking care of what was expected. Two pair of loose fitting clean cotton pants and a large tunic were folded neatly. Just as they grunted, shoving their aching bodies into the garb, Raul appeared.

"Let's go, Gringo dogs, it is time."

"Time for what?" Greg asked.

"Time for you to die."

Chris and Greg exchanged a wary look and then shuffled past the guard. He shoved them each hard and Greg stumbled going to his knees. Before he could react, Raul hit his ribs with the stick he carried. The dark head came up and the eyes went wide, full of pain.

"You fuckin' animal," Chris hissed, using both heels of his hands to hit the cruel guard between the shoulder blades.

Raul was caught off guard and stumbled, hitting the side of the hallway wall. He reacted immediately, spinning around and striking the arrogant blond hard on the side of his knee with the wooden stick. The loud crack brought a cry and the prisoner went down. He shoved the stick in it's leather holster on his hip and grabbed the damp blond head. Jerking it back, he pressed his body against the struggling victim's and forced him to his feet. He shoved his prisoner over the thin metal railing by the stairs. He continued to press hard, cutting off the man's air and putting untold pressure on this injured body.

Chris's knee was still stinging when he was forced over metal railing. The pressure from Raul's body ground into the steel, took his breath away. Also, since his was head down, the blood rushed to that area and made him dizzy. Just as he was about to pass out, he heard a harsh call from the floor below

"Raul! What is the delay? I am waiting!"

"Si, Patron!" Raul answered, hauling Larabee back and letting go. The blond dropped down on his knees, sucking in air noisely. He didn't give him a minute to recover, instead he used the baton again, hitting him hard between the legs from behind.

"You heard him, Gringo dog, move!"

Greg got Chris to his feet and helped him on the stairs. When they reached the bottom floor, each was gasping and dizzy. Then they were taken outside and the bright sunlight hit their eyes hard. Blinking against the brightness, the were shoved forward into a small courtyard. There were six guards with sticks like Raul's on one hip, a knife in a sheaf and a gun on the other hip. On a small bench was a single canteen.

"It is time, Gringo Dogs, for the fun to begin." Santiago paused, then picked up the canteen tossing it to Larabee. "That is the only water you will have, use it wisely." He pointed to the large desert area beyond the courtyard. "You will have one hour and then my men will follow."

Chris put the canteen over his chest and eyed the desert terrain. His mouth formed a grim line. He didn't know much about Mexico, but he knew the desert could be a cruel mistress. There would be little or no water, no relief from the sun and no protection from snakes, scorpions or other prey. The sun was already strong and it was early morning. But midday, it would be an inferno.

"This game, this blood hunt, is for my men to have relief from their duties. You will not escape, that is not possible. Either the sun will kill you, with your tongues swollen causing you to choke, or a snake will poison you, causing you to die in horrific fashion or perhaps Raul or his men will find you and toy with you. Then, you will pray to die."

Neither man moved and Santiago stepped foward, nodding to the tree beyond them. "If you do not wish to participate, you will be hung immediately."

"A blood hunt?" Greg murmured, shuffling beside Chris towards the courtyard arch.

"Si," Santiago replied, the cold smile forming. With a nod, Raul took his place on the steps near the wall of the courtyard. He waited until the hobbling pair were several yards away and fired. "A blood hunt."

"Greg!" Chris cried out when his friend topped over. He dropped down and examined the left leg, blood pouring through Wilson's fingers.

"...sick... animals..." Greg hissed, sitting up and lifting his tunic. He used his teeth to rip off the bottom.

"It went through, he knew what he was doing, " Chris stated, knowing the wound was to track them. He took the strip of cloth and ripped it again, giving him two. He bound the wound as best he could and helped the wounded man stand.

"Where do we go?" Greg asked, eyeing the vastness of the desert, spotting a few cacti and other plants. In the far distance were mountains.

"To hell," Chris answered, wondering how long before the cool sand beneath his bare feet would turn to fire.

They'd only gone a few more feet when a second shot rang out. Larabee dropped down, clutching his right calf. "I'm gonna kill that fuckin' bastard," he vowed, rolling over and wincing as the wounded muscle burned under his touch. Blood spread quickly spilling over his fingers. Like his friend, he ripped his tunic and made a bandage. Not bad enough to keep them down but just enough to create pain and leave a blood trail. He rose gingerly, tested the leg and limped up to his friend.

Greg followed Chris and for about twenty minutes, they made their way from the base. Twice he saw the blond head swivel and cock, the green eyes moving as if in thought. Then he'd limp onward.

Chris knew that they had to find someplace to try to hide. Barefoot and wounded, they would never outrun the guards who would be on horseback. So he felt their best chance was to ambush them. He figured the six would split into pairs of two and cover more ground. If they could catch two of them, they couild use the horses and weapons.

Around them the landscape had a unique diversity. The low elevation mountains were surrounded by mesas, hills and canyons. The amount of greenery dotting the vast area told the desperate pair that there was water available if they could find it. Cacti, yucca and agave were also scattered about.

Chris spotted a thick patch of green to the east with tan and gray dots. The rock formation might be in or near an oasis. That would provide shelter and water and it was in the opposite direction, so they might had an advantage on the guards.

He cast his eyes to the sky, swiping the sweat from his face. His leg was a burning, throbbing mess, his back ached and the nagging cough in his chest was getting worse. If they didn't intercept a pair of guards, they would never survive the night here.

"Greg?" He turned back to see the wounded man limping up to him. He held up the canteen but the dark head shook in a negative fashion. He spotted a pebble by his foot and Vin's drawl came up again from a trek the two shared after running out of water. He picked it up and handed it to Greg, using Vin's words as they had come to him, and saved him before.

"You suck on this, it will keep your mouth moist." He limped a bit further and found another one, putting it in his own mouth.

Greg pondered on their turn, wondering why they seemed to be heading backwards. As if sensing his confusion, Larabee turned back to him

"See that?" He pointed to the green area with the gray and tan spots. "I'm hopin' that's an Oasis and those rocks will give us some shelter. Those guards will split up in pairs. All we need is two horses and those guns."

"Lead on," Greg agreed.

The injured pair limped on, pushing their bruised, battered and bleeding bodies beyond what they normally would or could endure. They kept their focus on that cropping and as it grew closer, their spent bodies began to slow.

Greg tried to keep up with Chris but the pain in his right side felt like a hot piece of metal ripping through his lungs. He stumbled and fell, going to his knees. He didn't get up, he just gasped and choked. Then a shadow fell over him and he looked up at a face etched in pain much more severe than his own. If Chris could push on with a fever and all the injuries, he could as well. So he nodded, struggled greatly and rose, taking the hand offered.

Markers Depot
Noon

JD and Ezra saw the depot ahead and spurred their horses onward. The wire from Inez was brief but glittering with newfound hope. Chris was alive and Vin had a lead. They assumed that Nathan and Josiah were also notified. Along with Buck and Vin, they would seek out their missing leader. They found Buck waiting for them, every feature on his handsome face anxious and ready.

"Where's Vin?" JD asked, approaching Buck.

"He was jumpier than a frog in a fryin' pan," Buck replied, "his nerves are shot. He left a couple hours ago to scout ahead."

"Scout ahead for what?" Ezra asked, following the pair inside the depot.

Buck eyed the sandwiches, soup and meager fare offered. "I'll explain while we eat."

Over beef barley soup and ham sandwiches, Buck told the story as Vin had told it to him. Ezra sat back, stroking his chin and the wheels in his head began to move. If what the woman told Vin was true, than the man who owned it might be greedy enough to increase his venture. GIven the right scenario, it just might work.

"So where is Vin?" JD asked, using a biscuit to sop up the soup.

"Okay," Buck sighed, nodding to the road. "Vin and me talked this morning about the setup this guy has. He's not using this road to transport the slaves. So there must be a back road out of that tent city that they use to take them over the border."

"It's close to here," Ezra agreed. "And no doubt our talented tracker will be successful, which will be to our benefit."

"What's that crooked head of yours up to?" Buck pressed, seeing the jade eyes glinting.

"If the reptilian owner of said tent city is that greedy, he might be open to increasing his wealth, if the right opportunity arose."

"And that would be you?" Dunne's dark brows knit. "How?"

"A wealthy entrepreneur arrives, having heard from a friend about the environs. He has holdings in Mexico and seeks cheap labor to haul his ore northward over the border."

"That might work," Buck agreed. "But I don't like you going in there alone."

"You do love me," Ezra teased and got the eye roll from Buck that he intended. "I'm sure he won't do me bodily harm and I not a virigin when it comes to ventures such as this. Rest assured, I will remain unscathed."

"All we need is for him to cough up where Chris went. If he doesn't someone there will," Buck thought aloud, eyeing Ezra's well stocked boots. "For the right price."

"Precisely," Ezra agreed. "I shall require some costume changes. I'll meet you at the fork at seven."

The sound of thundering hooves brought the trio's attention to the doorway. A few moments later, Nathan and Josiah spilled into the room. Ezra stood and greeted them, nodding as he left.

"Where ya goin'?" Nathan asked.

"Mister Wilmington will explain, I'll return later."

Buck updated Josiah and Nathan while JD got them some food. They discussed the plan at length and Nathan finished his meal quickly.

"I'm ridin' back to town t'git my bags. I don't know what we're headin' inta and I'm gonna take as many supplies as I can."

"Be back by six," Buck said, "We'll head out at dark. Ezra rides ahead and we'll follow, taking out the guards. Vin found their hideout, so we won't be followed. We can split up, half with Vin and half covering Ezra."

"Sounds like a plan," Josiah agreed, watching Nathan head to the door. His thoughts, like the others, were on Chris Larabee. He lifted his smokey eyes skyward and moved his fingers over the homemade cross hanging on a cord on his chest. "Keep him safe, Lord."

Mexico
Desert
Late Afternoon

The oasis had proven to be quite a respite. A scattering of large palms were grouped together near the water. So the men drank and rested in the rocks, taking turns peeking out ot the cracks for riders. As welcomed as their rest was, both were exhausted, overheated and needing medical care.

Chris laid back against the rock, hoping that his plan would work. The longer they sat here, the harder it was to move. He eyed the mutted colors around him the arid terrain and wondered about his fate. Would he survive this ordeal? Even if they managed to get the horses and weapons, where could they go? He didn't know this area and without water, they'd did anyway.

He closed his eyes and sighed hard, fighting hard not to succumb to the pain, fever and exhaustion. The wounded leg was throbbing again, his hand ran over and when he moved to take some pressure off of it, the stab wound in his side pulled. Frustration turned sour as hope began to slip away. For the first time since his capture, he didn't hear Vin's voice. That worried him. Was his best friend on the hunt?

Outside Tent City
Dusk

Vin was pacing again.

Buck and Josiah exchanged a weary nod as they watched their younger friend fretting himself away. He didn't eat, didn't talk or remain in one spot. Either he paced or rode ahead. Without the cool and solitary presense of his missing friend, he wasn't able to settle down.

"He's worryin' himself inta a state," Nathan observed.

"Well, we're close, " JD thought aloud, "By this time tomorrow, we might have Chris back."

"There he goes again," Buck chuckled when the long-haired man disappeared into the wooded area where Ezra was preparing.

"Spanish or Indian?" Josiah turned to Buck whose grin grew.

"Both," Wilmington replied of the string of curses that would become airborne any minute.

Vin halted his progress just long enough to curse at Ezra. He heard the laughter from behind him and turned his head back.

"Shut the Hell up, all o'ya!"

"Mister Tanner," Ezra calmly dusted off his best dark green jacket along with the vile curse words and stood up. "Somethings cannot be rushed."

"If ya don't git yer fuckin' bones movin' I'm gonna carve a map of the territory in yer hide."

"However,' he acknowledged, rising and walking closer, "in your case, I will make an exception."

Vin just scowled and turned away, but a hand to his shoulder halted him.

"Vin?" Ezra began and wished he hadn't. For the Texan's guard dropped and in the fading light, he saw the depth of the concern for Chris riddled in both blue eyes. He never met anyone who could convey emotions so easily without uttering a word. "I feel very strongly that in short order, your heart will be returned to it's normal state. Success is just around the corner."

Vin sighed hard and shifted, resting his hands on both slim hips. He toed some gravel with his boot and took a minute to compose himself. Ezra didn't crowd him, rather he moved closer to the path.

"Shall we?"

"Yeah," Tanner answered, following closely. "Ez?"

"Yes?" He waited and saw the degree of worry had changed colors, including several shades directed at him. There was a tinge of genuine friendship there and Standish was glad of it. In Vin's case, he rolled the dice and won big. "You're welcome, my friend." He answered the silent call.

Mexico

Chris sighed hard, watching the departing sun. On one hand, they were rested as well as possible in this harsh environment and had not been bothered by guards. He wasn't sure why the guards hadn't found them. Maybe this was part of Santiago's sick game. Or maybe the other victims of the sick practice had gone in the other direction when hunted. To the untrained eye, the oasis would appear to be further away. On the other they couldn't stay here long. The blood loss, infection and wounds were telling and both men would not survive another day here.

"I'm such an idiot."

"Huh?" Chris turned to see the battered face turning sad.

"I had it all, Chris, I threw it away."

Greg shoved off and limped to the pond, taking a good drink. He sighed hard and shook his dark head. He dipped the cloth in his hand into the water and squeezed the excess out.

"My father has a plantation in Virginia. Not a big one, but nice enough. Great house, good neighbors and a large track of land. His health began to fail a couple years ago. He turned the house and the running of the estate over to James, my older brother. I was a bit spoiled, very hot-headed and..." a sad smile played on his face. "an idiot."

"You left."

"I did," Greg answered, limping back to his friend. He gently undid the rough bandage on Larabee's leg and pressed the cold cloth on it. He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew by the redness and heat around the bullet wound it was infected. He cleaned it, then rewrapped it.

"Instead of learning from James, and God knows he has the patience of a saint, I threw it back at my father. I called him names, said things..." He sat down hard and dropped his head shaking it sadly. "Now... I realize just how valuable life is... family is..."

"How'd you end up here?"

"Well," Greg replied honestly. "I found out when I was sixteen and snuck into my first tavern in town that I was good at gambling. By the time I turned twenty-one, I was raking it in, but I was living the wrong life. I know that now. Drinking, whoring around, staying up all night and sleeping all day. When my father got sick, James needed me and I walked out in a huff."

"You haven't heard from them?"

"No." Greg thought for a moment and his dark eyes went to the horizon and found a new light. "But if by some miracle, Chris, we get out of this alive, I'm going home. I'm going to apologize and hope that they'll forgive me. Hell, I don't even know if my father is still alive."

"You'll get there," Chris vowed, giving the downcast shoulder a tug. "You got my word on that."

He was dozing when a soft hiss brought his lethargic head up. He grunted in pain as the slightest movement caused every one of his wounds to scream in protest. The sky was dark blue and the moon beginning to rouse. He saw Greg pointing to the area below. He bit his lip against the pain and rose, climbing to the lookout. There were two riders nearly below them. Chris took his area to the area beyond and it was empty.

"You go down lower, when I jump the one in the back, you rush the one in the front. Throw sand in his face, grab the knife, it's easier to handle."

With a nod, the younger man slipped down along the rocks until he hit bottom. CHris waited and then sprung.

The next few moments were full of noise. The horses whinneying, the soldiers screaming and the prisoners grunting in excertion. Frantic movements and the thuds of fists hitting flesh were silenced when shots rang out.

Then all was still again.

Part Ten

Suratrat
Nightfall

Harry looked up when a wealthy stranger rode into town. The clothes were tailored made and expensive, right down to the gold watch that the man used when he drew closer. There was a scattering of white through a chestnut head and the mustache was well groomed. He saw dollar signs and approached.

"Evein' sir, welcome to Suratrat. Whatever your pleasure is, we can provide a service. The finest women, casinos and wine. Food that rivals anything west of New Orleans."

Ezra had to do a quick change mentally. He didn't want to take the chance that the man before him or those connected to him was from New Orleans, where his alter ego was from. So he switched gears to Savannah, a place he knew well.

"Harry Simmons at your service."

Ezra nodded at the English accent and eyed the street slowly. A great deal of money had been spent to keep this place looking so fine. He didn't miss that the other customers were well dressed. He climbed down from his rented horse and handed the reins to a young boy about fourteen.

"The lad'll care for your horse. What's your pleasure?"

"Well," Ezra poured on the southern accent and dusted off his coat. "I am happy to see that my late friend was not lyin'."

"Your late friend, sir?"

"Never did get his name, there was a slight dispute over a matter of the queen of hearts. Another gentlemen, and I use that term lightly, proposed rather vocally that I had cheated. I was offended and relayed that to him, he fired his weapon and the poor man next to me suffered the consequences."

"Yessir," Harry was confused. "And how did that lead you here, sir?"

"Shortly before his untimely demise, he mentioned a haven for gambling, wine and women in the middle of this infernal terrain. I scoffed at him but he was true to his word."

"Right this way sir, I'm sure you could use a drink."

Ezra was amazed at the casino when he entered. He was impressed with the labor that Gilbert went to in putting this place together. The bar was the finest mahogny with brass trim, the mirrors were quality as were the chandeliers overhead. The gambling tables were handdone and the rugs under his boots were Persian. He wondered at the amount of money being drawn in by the house. There were over a dozen tables and all were crowded.

"Trente et Quarente," he murmured, his fingers tingling. The French card game was played at a special table with two croupiers and six decks of cards. It required much skill and a lot of gold to gain entry. He'd never seen it done other than in New Orleans. "It has been awhile."

Harry Simmons watched the newcomer and was impressed by this charm, manner and money . He was very good, quickly drawing in a sizable amount of gold. Twice Simmons went over to refill his bourbon. Finally the man nodded, rose and took his winnings.

"I am famished," Ezra announced, "Perhaps you could show me to your dining establishment?"

"Right this way sir, the very best, you'll see."

Again it was Ezra's turn to be amazed. His face didn't show it, but he was taken aback by the quality of the dining tent. Two lovely Asian girls with exotic garb, which left most of their 'appeal' showing entertained him while he ate. The Englishman appeared again as he was finishing up his creme brulee.

"Excellent," Ezra noted, nodding to the young girl who took the dish away. He sipped on dark Italian coffee as Simmons joined him

"I take it, sir, you are enjoying your stay?"

"Quite," Ezra agreed. "An establishment like this requires a great deal of expertise and I compliment you."

"Oh, it's not mine, sir, I just work for Copper... Mister Gilbert." Harry paused, eyeing the diamond ring on the left hand and the ruby on the right. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is your business?"

"Silver, gold and ore," Ezra toasted. "I have mines in California and Mexico. Unfortunately, business in my Mexican mines has slowed due to lack of labor. I hate to travel there, large parts of the country are uncivilized."

"Yes, sir, so I've heard," Harry answered.

"I am currently on a mission of sorts to try enhance those numbers, but it's difficult." He lifted the glass and stared at the other man. "If you know what I mean..."

Harry's mouth went dry and he knew instantly that this man had some knowledge of what occured after dark. Rolling him would be fruitless, he had much more money to be had. He'd speak to Copper, maybe this man would invest.

"Sir? If you'd excuse me a moment."

"Certainly," Ezra replied, hoping the bait held firm.

He didn't miss the middleaged blond woman who'd been listening. He saw her reflection in the mirror. By her age and the way she spoke with the other girls and some of the male help, she had a position of rank. Perhaps if Gilbert didn't go for the bait, he'd net another fish.

Copper listened as Harry spoke and watched the newcomer through the special glass mirror. It cost him a lot of money but it's gilded design hid a viewing area. He could see them but they couldn't see him. He spent close to an hour thinking and mulling over the thought. A partner was risky but then again, if this man had the kind of money that was evident, it would double his holdings. He needed more time to investigate the man.

Ezra looked up when a tuxedo went by. He knew when he looked at the man's face he was Gilbert. He got a clear sense of someone without any conscience at all. He nodded and the other man joined him. A serving girl brought them a bottle of French Cognac.

"To you health, sir," Ezra toasted, taking a sip. "Delightful. It's rare, along with everything else here. You sir, are to be complimented."

"Thank you, Mister?"

"Etienne Auberge of Savannah." Standish lied deftly. He'd created the identity so many years ago and used is so often it was easy.

"Long way from home," Gilbert noted, not missing the quality of the clothing and jewelry.

"My father invested well and made his fortune before he turned forty. I was brought up on a silver spoon. However, the war between the states took a toll and I decided it was time to broaden the horizons a bit. I read about the mining industry and ventured into it about five years ago." He paused to toast his success. "I've never looked back."

"Harry tells me you have mines in Mexico?"

"Two but in the last oh... eighteen months or so they've slipped a bit. Labor is hard to come by, either the climate or other factors takes a toll." He studied the other face carefully. "I'm sure you understand."

"More than you know," Copper agreed. "It was a pleasure speaking with you Mister Auberge. Good luck with your problem. I hope we'll speak again the next time you pass through."

Ezra's heart sank but his face didn't show it. He continued to sip on the brandy well after Gilbert left. He was thinking on a way to force Gilbert to leave with him, when the blond sauntered past. She looked even older close up and time had not been kind. She was too thick in the middle for the tight dress and her sagging bustline was offensive. She did, however, slip a folded paper under his hand when she bent to refill his drink.

"Thank you," Ezra said, covering the paper.

He wasn't sure what to make of the note, or if it was a trap. But it was a chance he'd have to take. If he didn't return by midnight, Vin and the others would know to come into town. The back road was covered, so they wouldn't be able to take him away. He rose and made his way toward the door. Just before reaching it, his eyes caught the name of the town written in gold script in the mirror. But it was the reflection and the letters were backwards. He read the name and paled, his heart sinking.

Chihuahua Desert

If there was a worse way to feel and still be alive Chris Larabee didn't know about it. He had no sense of time or place, only grueling pain. From his head down , there wasn't an inch of him not screaming. The foul taste in his mouth told him he'd already thrown up but he couldn't remember. It was dark and he was cold, he was freezing. He tried to sit up but a firm hand lifted him, nudging his lips.

"Drink and spit."

A man's voice, a young man's voice. He knew that voice. He trusted that voice and did as told. Twice more the voice repeated and he finally rid his mouth of the bitter taste. He was rewarded with a drink of water and nothing ever tasted so sweet. Finally, he blinked, forcing his eyes open and looking around . Still wheezing heavily and that was difficult, he moved his head to see where he was.

His fingers roamed sand and rock, telling him he was outside. The dark sky held no stars only a huge silver moon. It was unnaturally large and bathing him and the other man in silver light . His head was pounded so hard he felt sure part of it was missing. He moved his fingers and found a crude bandage wrapped around his head.

"No... leave it be..."

He blinked and saw a face in the darkness. A steady hand on his chest, someone with a low voice tending to him. One name came to mind and he whispered it as if in prayer. He wasn't lost anymore.

"Vin... thank... God..."

"No, Chris, sorry," Greg apologized, watching the wounded man's puzzled face.

Chris was confused again. He eyed the terrain and although it was dark the moonlight was bright and he recognized desert landscape. What was he doing in the desert ? He felt the harsh clothing and it resembled a uniform. Who was the man tending him? He looked closer and saw a young face, twenty five perhaps with dark hair and eyes.

"It's Greg," he answered the perplexed face. "Just take it easy, you got winged in the head. You're lucky."

"Winged?" Chris croaked, at least that answered his nagging pain and sick stomach questions. "Greg... I don't... who..."

"From the mine... we're in Mexico... we were kidnapped from a tent city over the border..."

Chris sighed, rested his head back against some kind of folded up cloth and let the words run around his head. Other images sprang up a sinister woman's face and a hot needle, pain rupturing his veins, a evil warden, a whip and more pain. A mine, grueling work and beatings. All the images collided in his throbbing skull.

"Sick, fuckin' bastard... Santiago..."

"They used us for a blood hunt, let us go early this morning. We found an oasis and waited for the guards to come, to get the horses. "

"The guards came?" Chris coughed, clutching his side. He couldn't remember that part. He looked around and didn't see them. "Where... what... did..."

"They're dead, I buried them under some sand and rocks. I passed out for awhile... then I found one horse. The other got away. You jumped from a high spot and he fired, wounded you. I got lucky, I hit the other guy and his gun went off, he killed his own man. I threw sand in his face like you said and grabbed the knife, slit his throat. I took their clothes and boots, weapons, food, anything the horse would hold. They won't come looking in the dark but we need to move out when the light first hits."

"Yeah... head back... try... to get... north... of prison... to... border..." Chris cried out as his body was forced to rise. "...let's get... the... hell... outta... here."

Suratrat

Ezra had his peashooter ready in case of trouble, but he sensed somehow he was not being followed. He made his way to the end of town, finding the livery easily. He paused outside, lighting a cigar and sitting on a bench. His eyes roamed the streets, taking in the customers but not a sign of Simmons or Gilbert. He got up casually and slipped behind the building. Then he saw the small path that led around the back of the livery. He didn't stop until he was well outside of the tent city perimeter. He noted that this was the side Vin identified as the hidden path which led the prisoners away. He heard a famliar bird call and sighed, realizing Vin was close by.

"That's far enough."

"As you wish, Madame." He paused and she stepped out of the shadows.

"I can help you," Delilah said. She knew how rich he was and if he needed some men provided, she had the know how. They could set up somewhere else in a border town. She had connections in Mexico as well, Gilbert taught her too well.

"Out of the kindness of your heart," Ezra drolled.

"And your wallet. Look, Mister, we can help each other here. I know you need strong young men and I can get them for you."

"By your wiles alone?" He hinted with a tinge of sarcasm.

"Of course not!" She snapped. " I've been working with Gilbert since he put up his first tent. I know the system, the route, the guards from the Mexican mine and Santiago, the sick bastard who runs it. I know how to find the pawns, weed them out and set them up. It's only a couple hours to the border. I can get you guards who will escort them to wherever you need. Is your mine far?"

"No, less than an hour from the border." He narrowed his eyes, "And they remain compliant for the duration?"

"The first drug is in the booze, we strip them, roll them, tie them up and Copper inspects them. Sometimes they fight back, he doesn't like that. There's a pressure washer we use on them to clean them, then change them into the prison clothes and then I inject them. It's good stuff, burns like hell and keeps them out for several hours. They're too sick and dopey to fight when they arrive."

"And why should I trust you?"

"Because I can see you know people, how to read them. All good gamblers have that gift. You wouldn't be standing here if you didn't."

"Touch&eacut;," Standish acknowledged. "What exactly is in this for you?"

"Money, enough for me to retire soon. I'm tired of hiding out in this place. I haven't been to a real city in... well too long. I have friends in California and with the right amount of money, I can partner in on a place there on the Barbary Coast."

"Fitting," he agreed. "Very well. Let's assume you are successful. Why would your employer allow you to leave?"

"I was sick a couple months ago, he brought a doctor in. I was already thinking on leaving and I paid that quack a lot of cash to tell Copper I have a bad heart. So I can relapse at any time. He'll let me go, he's already grooming a girl to take my place, I've seen him."

"So you are proposing we form a simliar establishment near the border? You can handle these 'volunteers' on your own?"

"I have," she pressed, "Just a few days ago we caught prime beef. A lean blond with a lot of fight. But I took care of him, I made sure he knew who was in charge and I watched him screaming until he went limp."

"Evenin'," Vin drawled, moving out of the darkness and just behind her. "Thought I smelt somethin' putrid."

"What's going on here?" She spun around but found her arms pinned behind her. "Who the hell are you?"

"Yer worst nightmare ya twisted bitch," Vin growled, tying her arms behind her back and shoving her on the ground against a log. He knelt over her, unsheathing his large knife. "Ya see, I ain't heartless like ya'll. I'm givin' a chance t'spill yer guts. "

"You set me up!" She hissed at the southerner, who was peeling off his mustache.

"With pleasure," Standish replied, "I'm afraid my friend is a bit on the wooly side and doesn't house the patience that I do. So you would be well advised to answer him truthfully and in short order."

"And if I don't?" Her words and voice dripped with foolish arrogance.

Vin slipped the knife under the spanning fabric between her breasts and snapped it, splitting the fabric and exposing the flabby area around her corseted bosom. He poised the knife under the corset, pressing the metal against her skin.

"OW!" She yelped, her heart beating wildly. "You wouldn't cut a woman!"

"Ya got that part right," Vin snapped, glaring hard at her. "But I don't see one. Ya fucked with the wrong person when ya tortured Chris Larabee." Her face blanched of the little color that was left. She didn't have to say it, her frantic eyes screamed it. "I wanna know where ya took him."

"I can't, Santiango and Copper will kill me."

"Ya better loosen that tongue o'yers or by the time I'm done with ya, ya'll wish they did."

"Go to hell!" She dared by the intense blue eyes never wavered and the corset was split along with some skin. "I'll scream... they'll hear me..." she panted and his hand gripped her throat cutting off the air. The intense pressure caused her eyes to buldge, she got dizzy and went limp. When her mouth opened, he shoved a rag it and dragged her to her feet. He hauled her over his shoulder and moved into the dark thicket of trees.

Ezra started to follow and was cut off. Vin turned around and nodded in the other direction. "Go git Buck and the others."

There wasn't many times in his life that Ezra P. Standish was at a loss for words or this shaken. He'd never seen Vin as volatile as this and was worried about what he might do if left alone with woman.

"Ya deaf?" Vin growled, "Git goin'! I don't need an audience and yer weak stomach pukin' all over when I peel 'er."

"Peel?" Ezra squeaked. "Just exactly what on earth..." But that quickly Vin was gone, his long strides taking him into the trees. Ezra thought to follow and decided to find Buck. If anyone might get through to Vin, it would be him.

Vin didn't stop until he felt they were a good distance from the tent city but still on the main path to Mexico. He dumped her hard on the ground against a boulder. He had already prepared the wood for a fire and lit it. She moaned a little, moving a bit and starting to rouse . He yanked the gag out and slapped her hard.

"You're an animal..." she gasped, more than a bit scared by the bloodlust shining from his eyes.

"Yer a fine one t'talk," Vin replied, yanking her hair back until he could see her frantic eyes. "Don't piss me off, I'm good at this and I can make it last fer hours. "

"...what..."

"Yer gonna tell me everythin' that happened t'Chris from the time he rode in t'when ya dumped in on that wagon."

"...and if I don't..."

"I'll peel ya." Vin yanked her stocking down and exposed her fleshy calf.

"What do you... what..." she couldn't believe she'd heard him right. She jumped and cried out when his knife moved, taking skin off like a carrot peel . "My God... oh God... you are a savage..."

"Wrong answer," Vin grunted. He saw her eyes move back toward the tent city area. Taking no chances, he shoved the gag back in before taking another piece. Her muffled scream only increased his desire to find the truth. "I ain't got time to fuck around." He released her leg and picked up a stick, using the edge of the flames to light it. He then held it over the bloody wound on her leg. "I can seal this up and start all over. Mebbe up a little, huh?" He used the knife to lift the heavy right breast. "Course the skin is thicker and I'll have t'dig deeper." He leaned in until his face was inches from hers. "Ya want hell? Ya'll wish ya were there." Tears were running down her face and he saw by the defeat in her eyes and by the way her head nodded frantically that she'd changed her mind. He moved his hand long enough to yank the gag out. "From the beginnin'..." Vin warned, keeping the flaming stick over the open bloody wound.

Buck heard Vin's birdcall and rounded up the others. So when Ezra arrived out of breath and a bit flustered, he wasn't sure what to make of the situation. He had Ezra's real horse and handed the reins over. "Where's Vin'" Josiah asked.

"Physically or mentally?" Ezra replied, climbing on his horse.

"What's that supposed to mean?" JD asked.

"Physically, he's about a quarter of a mile from here, just off the road that is used to transport the unwilling victims."

"And mentally?" Jackson inquired, leaning over his pommel.

"Well... I've seen our buckskinned clad compatriot in a variety of situations, and have seen his temper in action. But I 've never encountered him so cold blooded and lethal."

"He scared you?"" Buck guessed and saw the pale face nod. "What the hell did he do?"

"He's taken Gilbert's leading lady, the vipress that was responsible for Chris's trip to hell and he's questioning her with a rather unsavory method."

"Unsavory how?" JD was restless. "Just spit it out, will you Ezra?"

"He used the term 'peel' and I was directed to leave him to this task and find you."

"Jesus," Josiah uttered, "I heard him talk about that once."

"He did live with the Kiowas and Commanche," Nate said. "And I'm guessin' he was a quick student."

"Let's go," Buck directed, leading them away.

Vin was sitting on a rock, calmly drinking from his canteen when his friends arrived. They flicked odd glances at him and then to the woman, curled up in the dirt by his feet. Nobody moved and Vin didn't care that they were horrified or what they thought of him. He knew where Chris was and the fastest way to get there.

"She's been chirpin' like a bird since ya left," Vin drawled, bending down and tapping her tear-streaked cheek. 'Ain't that right?"

"Please," she sobbed, twisting her head to find anyone. "...somebody..."

"Git away from her Vin," Nathan snarled, getting off his horse and physically shoving Vin aside. There were three small patches of skin missing from her lower leg. "I can't believe ya done this t' a woman."

"Woman?" Vin snorted, "That's up fer debate. And don't ya dare judge me, none o'ya," he warned, eyeing the shocked faces of the others sharply. "She tortured Chris, sold him inta slavery in some mine in Mexico. I don't gotta tell ya what they'll do t'im after they whip 'im and beat 'im. Them sick fuckin' guards..." he left the dangling thought and sent a repulsive glance her way. "She ain't a saint. I know this area and a shortcut, we can be there in a few hours."

"What about her?" Josiah asked.

"She's comin'," Vin decided, walking to where he left his horse tethered. "If she's lyin', I'm gonna finish what I started. And if Chris's dead, she's gonna wish she was."

"I hope you're not the superstitious type," Ezra said.

"Why?" Buck answered, although he was a disburbed by what Vin did, after hearing what she did to Chris and what most likely had been done to him in the days since, he felt no pity.

"The name of the tent city is Suratrat. I happened to see it backwards in a mirror as I left. When reflected in reverse, it spells out Tartarus, the root of which the cretin's purpose stems."

"Sweet Jesus," Josiah answered, knowing what that meant.

"Well that clears it up fer me!" VIn snapped, "Git t'the point Ezra, m'knife is still warm."

"Tartarus is a place named for the heart of Hades." Standish paused and Sanchez continued.

"A place so full of pure evil that even Lucifer won't enter," Sanchez finished the thought.

"That's where Chris is," Vin said, turning towards the road. "And ridin' t'hell t'git 'im back is what we're gonna do."

"What about the judge, Vin?" JD asked. "I mean, anything could happen and somebody should know where we are?"

"Alright," Vin agreed, eyeing their youngest member. "Yer the best rider we got. Git back to the depot and send a wire. I'll fill ya in on what ya need."

"Hold on a minute, Vin," Buck interjected, waiting for the turbulent sky eyes to rise to meet his own. The rage he saw made him flinch. "I know how bad you need to do this, hell, I'd cut my arm off for Chris, you know that. But riding into Mexico in the dark is suicide."

"Fine! I'll go m'self..."

"Vin!" Buck snapped, getting off his horse and catching the walking powderkeg's shoulder. He felt every bit of tension rippling under that worn hide coat. "How is getting your fool head shot off gonna help Chris? It's after midnight. He's asleep. If this prison is only a couple hours away, we can leave by five a.m or so and get there in time. "

"He's right, Vin," Ezra stated, "No doubt that road is well guarded and you would be picked off by a sniper or worse. You're a tracker, you know how difficult it is to follow a trail. How much more difficult is it when you are riding in near darkness on those unfamiliar roads? What of the bandits that roam the border? "

"Yeah... yeah..." Vin shook off Buck's hand and walked away. He stood in the middle of that road and kept his eyes on the horizon. The ache inside would not diminish until he found Chris. But getting killed wouldn't help his missing friend.

"We can ride back to Grovers Pass and drop her off at the sheriff's office. They'll hold her for the judge." Josiah turned to the woman. "You better think long and hard about what you're going to tell the Judge. The men you tortured and sold were Americans, and if they died, he could send you to prison or worse."

"Of course," Ezra drolled, "If you were to trade what you know and testify against Gilbert he may go a bit easier."

"You made your point," Delilah conceded.

Nathan bandaged the woman's leg and helped her stand. He and Ezra got her on the horse with Josiah. Buck nodded to the others and waited for Vin. He stood in that cold night air for almost ten minutes, then walked over and stood beside the forlorn figure. The disappointment was spelled out in the slouched shoulders.

"We'll find him, Vin," he vowed softly, quelling the urge to reach out and take that pain away from the weary eyes. "You got my word on that."

Vin waited a few moments, drawing strongly on the what he felt from the man beside him. He managed a grim smile then, "Wilmington's word's good as done."

"Damn straight!" Buck chuckled, giving the downcast neck a tug.

Part Eleven

Chihuahua Desert

Chris was deadweight and Greg was exhausted. His own injured body was barely able to remain upright. He had no idea how he was still holding up the unconscious blond man. The sky was still dark but not quite as dark as it had been. He knew dawn was coming and hoped they were close to the border. He was not very familiar with deserts to begin with and especially those south of the border. Then a sound interrupted his quiet trek. He sat up a bit straighter, tightening his hold on Larabee. The wounded man flopped back against his chest. The odd sound got closer and he knew what it was.

"Shit... horses..."

Suddenly the unnaturally large silver moon that had aided him in making his way became the enemy. His frantic eyes roamed the landscape but there was nowhere to hide.

Luis Garcia was Santiago's right hand man. He was the leader of the six who'd gone out after the prisoners on the blood hunt. He was the one who found the horse when it came back alone. They never lost the game before and he vowed they'd not lose now. So when his scouts found the shallow graves, Santiago himself made a decree. If they found them alive, he would find a new way to kill them slowly.

"There, Patron!" Luis called out, pointing ahead to a lone horse.

"Si..." Santiago said, his eyes flashing. "They will pay... I will write it with their blood."

The shots didn't surprise him but still when they came he flinched and ducked down. Although he was not hit, the horse spooked, rising up on her hind legs and whinneying fiercly. Greg lost his grip and he and Chris both tumbled to the ground. He rolled away from the lethal hooves until the horse ran off. Then he scrambled to find Chris and shield him from the bullets. Then the thundering hooves got closer and he took out the gun he gotten from the dead guards. He lifted his head and fired once, taking down the lead attacker. The second shot clicked, the gun was empty. He tossed it away and reached in front of Larabee's pants. He pulled out the gun that was tucked in there.

"You cannot win, Senor Dog," Santiago hollered out, pulling his horse up. He nodded to the man on the far left to dismount. He motioned for him to circle around the prisoner from behind. "I have six men and many guns."

"...as long as I have one bullet... left..." Greg rasped, his throat hurt from the lack of water. He ducked down again as they fired.

"You still have some fire," Santiago sneered, "Pity that your feeble attempt at freedom ends here. You are very close, just a few miles to the border."

Greg's heart sank but he didn't let the other man see his disappointment. He curled his finger around the trigger and waited. If he was going to die here, Santiago was going to die as well. He'd see to that, he owed that to Chris and the other Americans tortured by the brute. He never saw the rifle that slammed into his skull.

When Santiago got to the pair, Luis had dragged the first man from on top of Chris Larabee. He squatted down and put his hand on the dirty, bearded man's face. He saw the graves of the two men he'd lost and there was now a third lying dead behind them. Larabee was the leader who'd orchestrated the plan, he'd pay for it dearly.

"Luis, you will return to the prison and take command today." He stood up, pausing to spit on Larabee's face. "Miguel, tie him over your horse, ride back with Juan and get Jose's horse." He watched as they kicked the blond man repeatedly before throwing him hard over the saddle and securing him. "You know where I will be."

"Si, Patron," Luis replied. "I only wish I could be there to watch." He knew the small adobe that Santiago used to inflict torture on selected prisoners. He knew that Larabee would die slowly, screaming in pain.

"What of this one?" Juan asked, his foot on the throat of the unconscious dark-haired man. He drew his knife and waited, his fingers itching to disembowel the man.

"Leave him for the vultures," Santiago ordered. "He will die of thirst as they pick his eyes from his head."

The boot on his throat brought his eyes open to slits. Greg had heard what they said and he watched as they took his friend away. He'd failed Chris Larabee and he felt badly about that. At least his own death would be swift, unlike Larabee's.

"I'm sorry," his hoarse voice called out. He watched them ride for awhile and split up, Santiago taking one man with him along with Chris, they went in a different direction. He fought hard to try to see at least one more sunrise but it was not to be. His father's face appeared and the lump in his throat nearly choked him. The last word was uttered weakly but with much heart as he went limp

"Father..."

Grovers Pass
Pre-Dawn

JD Dunne stepped outside and yawned, stretching widely. It seemed to him he'd barely laid his head on the pillow when Josiah banged on the door alerting him and Buck to get up. He watched the new colors of the day beginning to color the sky and wondered about their missing leader. Was Chris still alive? Or had the cruel guards taken pleasure in beating him? What if he was dead? He shook his head and sighed hard, toeing the boardwalk with his boot. He wasn't sure if he had the stomach to bury Chris Larabee twice.

"Mister Dunne," Ezra greeted, stepping outside of the hotel. He squinted and brushed the front of his green jacket. "Even our fine feathered friends have the good sense not to be about yet."

"We have to get there early," JD replied. "Where is everyone?"

"Nathan's securing his supplies and Buck's working his magic on Mrs. Owens." Josiah Sanchez walked over to the duo.

"Working his magic in what way?" Ezra narrowed his eyes.

"Not the usual way," Josiah replied. "She runs the cafe. It's not open yet but she's inside getting ready for the morning customers. It took a little work, but she agreed to make some sandwiches we can eat on the road."

"Wrong man for the job," Ezra decided. "Mister Tanner could garnered us a feast without uttering more than a slight "Mornin' Ma'am'."

"Speaking of Vin," JD prodded, eyeing the deserted street. "Where is he?"

"Where do you think?" Josiah nodded towards the livery. He shared a room with the restless tracker the night prior. "He got up a couple hours ago, I don't think he slept at all."

"I hope after all of this, Chris is still alive," JD thought. He was still not comfortable with what Vin did and a part of him was glad he had not run into Vin this morning.

"Let's ride," Buck declared, striding across the street with two large burlap sacs. "Daylight's burnin'"

"There's no light yet," Dunne argued, taking a sac from the taller man.

"There will be all too soon and we need to be over the border by then," Josiah answered.

There weren't many times when Vin Tanner was not comfortable in his own skin. He stood eye to eye with most men, not allowing his beliefs or background to make them feel superior. But the uncertainty of his best friend's wherabouts and life had taken a toll. He couldn't sleep or eat, concentrating on anything else was a waste of time. Even the dawn seemed too slow today.

He shoved off the haybale and adjusted the cinch again, running his hand on the horse's mane. His eyes went to the landscape ahead and he traveled back in time just a few weeks ago. He'd been working with two of the horses in the corral at the ranch unaware that Chris was watching him.

Shame all that sweet talk is wasted on horses."

Vin turned and saw the light at the end of the cheroot first. It was early and the sun wasn't fully up yet. He was a little surprised, Chris was not usually up this early. The hint of the smile of Larabee's face and the light in his eyes was something Vin never tired of. He ambled over and took the mug of coffee offered.

"Meanin' what?"

"Meaning it would go a lot further on a woman."

"Well," Vin drawled, shoving his hat back and tossing a cocky grin back, "could be I don't waste m'time with words." He leaned against the post, arching a single brow in triumph. "The boys talk fer me."

"Shit!" Chris chuckled, taking a draw on his cheroot. "To hear you talk, them damn boys of yours are busier the Buck."

"Texas growed," Vin crowed proudly and drank in the laugh that followed. Even when the black-clothed arm reached out and tugged his hat over his eyes, he kept that grin. He hitched himself on the corral gate, enjoying his coffee and the golden glow appearing in the sky. For a few moments, they shared that pretty picture, then Chris's soft voice colored it even more.

"I never thought I would find this again, Vin." Chris caught the questioning profile and relayed a more in his expression. "When Sara and Adam died, I thought my life was over. You've given me something. This place... it's special, Vin." He paused and thought of the sign at the end of the property. " Hope..."

Vin didn't wait for Chris to finish, he'd already said far too much. It wasn't the words as much as the break in his voice. He had no idea what kind of pain Chris had suffered but he did know how much courage it took to walk on.

"Yer boy," Vin lauded softly, "he was one lucky little fella." He paused then thinking of just how strong a father's touch goes. "He'd be bustin' his buttons lookin' on ya."

Chris inhaled sharply, dropping his gaze and swallowing hard. He knew how close VIn was to his own father and how hard it had been to lose him. He also knew a part of Vin would never get over that. As much of a living hell he'd undertaken burying his son, he couldn't imagine Adam at ten or eleven having to bury him, as Vin had done to his beloved father. The words hit him hard, soaking through the walls he'd so carefully built up over the last few years. They gave him a warmth, and added more color to his world. THat was something Vin was very gifted at, just by his presence.

Sensing he'd done something to make Chris uncomfortable, Vin thought for a moment. He drained his coffee, set the mug down and slid off the fence. "Some o'us actually work here. But if ya play yer cards right, mebbe later I'll give a few tips. It ain't yer fault yer boys are undersized."

"Fuck you, Tanner!" Chris laughed, shoving the prankster.

Buck wasn't sure where Vin was but the void face, unblinking sorrowful eyes and slow breaths coming from the slightly parted lips were painful to watch. He looked awful, the dark circles under his eyes only made his face paler. He hated to disturb him, but they needed to get moving.

"Vin?" He gave the slumped shoulder a small pat and the lean body jumped a bit. "Sorry."

"S'okay," Vin rasped, fisting his hand to ward off the waves of pain that came when Chris's face disappeared. Without a word, he climbed on his horse and headed out, riding uncomfortably with a anxious heart and nervous stomach.

Santiago's Adobe
In the desert

He never thought much about what being dead would feel like-until now. Chris was awake but didn't open his eyes. He knew Santiago was waiting for that and would hold out at long as he could. For awhile, when he was wading through the red hazy netherworld of pain and agony, he thought he had died. He shivered as the morning air caressed his skin. He felt the harsh sand and gravel cutting into him hard. He was naked and spreadeagled, staked to the ground. He heard them talking, at least two guards and Santiago. He could tell by the impatience in the evil man's voice that he was getting restless. Then Santiago's voice rose and grow louder as he came closer. But when the sharp heel of his boot ground hard into his groin, Larabee's eyes shot open.

"So, you are awake, Gringo Dog," Santiago sneered, withdrawing his boot.

He drew out his knife and stood over the prisoner. That he was still alive was a miracle. One side of his blond head was dried crimson where the bloody head wound was. Half of his face was also covered in the dried redness, resembling a warrior's paint. The leg wound was infected and raw, oozing greenish muck. The lean body was covered with bruises, cuts, abrasions but there was still room for more. He moved past Larabee to the fire and heated the blade there.

"This is a very special day, as you will soon find out." He turned back, watching the feverish green eyes darting. He squatted down and leered a bit as he pressed the hot metal onto the meaty thigh, drinking in the scream of agony. "This is the day you will die. But not before the sun does, you will suffer, like all Gringo dogs must do."

Chris's head pressed hard into the cold sand and the stench of his own burning flesh sickened him. His head was screaming in pain and his leg was in agony. He grit his teeth and strained every muscle against the waves of pain. Then the blade ran slowly along his thigh, over his groin. The tip went under his staff and for a moment, Chris thought he was going to lose it. But then he realized Santiago was toying with him. That would bleed too much and he wanted him alive for at least another twelve hours.

Twelve hours.

He closed his eyes, unable to fathom that length of time in the river of anguish he was mired in. A boot kicked him hard in the side, causing his eyes to open again.

"You will remain awake," Santiago warned, putting the tip of the blade in the soft area just above Larabee's hip. He drove the blade in and felt a surge of blood coursing through his veins at the cry of pain. The blood ran down the lean hip onto the sand.

"Despite what you may think," he addressed the pain filled green eyes that were trained on him with loathing. "I have a heart. I have dogs inside and they were not fed yesterday. But tonight, they will dine well." He paused and eyed the wound in Larabee's side. "And what they do not eat," he slid the blade under the stiches and began to pull them apart. "The vultures will feast on."

Chris bit his lip and felt his muscles tense again. His mouth was so dry he couldn't even produce spit. The sun wasn't even up yet and his throat was burning. He gasped and coughed, watching in horror as the blade went into the fire again. The flames hissed as his blood hit them. He steeled himself as best he could, training his fevered eyes on the horizon. Where they coming? Or did they think he was dead? The hot blade was pressed against the sole of his left foot and he screamed again.

But the pain wasn't as bad as the one inside. He couldn't hear Vin's voice anymore. He felt himself passing out and with bit of strength, he dug deep inside to find Vin's image. Those steadfast blue eyes had to be his anchor.

Maria Rosita Mine
Early morning.

Luis Garcia tapped the small baton he held with his right hand against his left palm. He walked through the camp, inspecting the Gringo dogs as they shuffled past. It was hard to tell who was in worse condition, the men who were coming out of the mines or those going in for the early shift. He barked out his orders, pausing long enough to lash out at several of the men just because he chose to. Two of them groveled and he kicked them, then ordered one to be whipped. He enjoyed the role of commander and didn't get to flex his muscles too often. He waited for the man to be stripped of his shirt and tied to the post. He took out the whip with several metal studs in it and lashed at the inviting skin brutally. It would prove to be his undoing.

"Shhh!" Vin halted, putting his right arm up. He cocked his head and tilted it to the right. They had crossed the border about twenty minutes prior and were on the outskirts of a desert.

"What?" Buck asked and was shushed again. Then it came through again, a cry of pain and the distinctive sound of leather hitting skin. "Shit... that's close."

"We must be on the back side of the mine," Josiah advised, riding up to where Vin and Buck were waiting. "We haven't passed any guards."

"We can't take any chances," Buck offered, turning to the tracker. "Why don't we ride ahead and check. I'll come back and update the others."

"Alright," Vin agreed, easing off his horse. "But we go on foot. It ain't far and the road's gettin' narrow."

Vin's years of living with the Indians had given him skill in slipping through small areas without a sound. Buck was smart enough to let him do that and go ahead. He drew his gun and tried to follow quietly. So he was surprised when he lost sight of Vin for a moment and the Texan came up from behind him, squatting down and wiping blood of the blade of his knife in the dirt.

"Jesus!" Buck whispered, 'You damn near scared a year off me. Trouble?"

"Not anymore. Two guards, I took care o'em. There's two more guardin' the entrance t'the mine. I peeked inside the winda of the large buildin' just ahead. It had bunks, tables and there was two guards sleepin' inside. That means the rest are most likely in the mine."

"We need a diversion," Buck stated. "Somethin' that will bring those guards this way."

"And the rest of us slip in the side," Vin agreed, jerking his head. "I'll show ya."

Buck followed Vin down a trail, past the two dead guards and up a hill. They went belly down and studied the courtyard from above. There was no fence, only three buildings and a small gate. Some poor bastard was tied to a wooden post and by the looks of him, possibly dead.

"Git Jo'siah, the kid and Ezra. They can toss a stick o'dynamite jest past that well," Vin suggested, pointing to an area past the guards quarters. "Me, you and Nate will come in from behind, corner 'em like the rats they are."

"SHould work," Buck replied, eyeing the path. 'I'll be right back."

Ten minutes later, they were all in place, waiting on Vin's birdcall cue. The explosion caused utter chaos. Four guards spilled from the sleeping area, half dressed. Only two thought to bring their weapons. They were quickly cut down but bullets fired by Ezra, Josiah and JD.

Luis froze when the mine rumbled. He wasn't so deep that he didn't recognize an explosion from above. He ordered two of his men to go and investigate. He moved in and shouted down the workers, who were uneasy. His threats were not idle and they went back to their work.

Vin kept the high position on a short retaining wall to the side of the mine, giving cover to Nate and Buck, who crept in behind the two guards in the front of the entry. One spun around and Nate's blade hit him in the neck. The other dropped his weapon when he was wounded.

"How many men inside!" Buck demanded, aiming his rifle at the cowering Mexican. "English!" He commanded of the Spanish babble that followed .

Ezra, Josiah and JD took their cue and spilled in from the back. Ezra and Josiah went inside the guardhouse while JD covered the area in the front. He spotted Vin who was coming through the old arched entry.

"Kid, yer with me," Vin directed, pointing to the mine shaft. He eyed Buck and Nathan who had cut the dead man from the post and tied the guard there. "Ya got this?"

"Oh, he'll be chirpin' like a canary," Buck predicted, while Nathan tipped the guard's chin up with his blade.

"Yuh best listen up, cause he's in a foul mood," Jackson directed. "How many guards are inside?"

"...cuatro... cuatro..."

"Yuh better not be lyin!" Nathan warned.

"Cause if you are," Buck growled, drawing out his knife. "I'm gonna cut a finger off for each extra guard."

"...no... no..." He shook his head.

"VIN!" Nathan hollered, ducking as shots rang out from the inside of the mine.

Tanner heard the warning and went into motion. Wheeling around, he began to fire as he dropped down and rolled over. JD came up behind the two new guards who'd exited the mine and took care of the one that Vin's bullets didn't hit. The fired up Texan scrambled to his feet and ran over, grabbing a bleeding guard by the throat. His eyes went wide and he pressed the blade to the wounded guard's throat.

"How many prisoners?" Vin demanded, ignoring the pain in his lower back. "Are they all inside?"

"No... uh... uh... some sleep..." The guard nodded his head towards the small buidling beyond. "...inside... uh... diez..." He coughed up a mouthful of blood and had a body spasm, before his last breath.

"Ten," Nate translated, as Ezra and Josiah exited the guard house. "Any more?"

"No," Josiah answered.

"There's ten prisoners inside," Buck updated as Vin ran past him, not waiting on a reply. By the time the words left his lips, Vin was already through the door.

"Jesus..." Buck stammered, appalled by what he saw. Inside the building were small cells that reeked of every bodily fluid imaginable and worse.

"Good Lord," Ezra managed, repelled by the offensive odor and deplorable conditions. "That anyone could survive this..."

"CHRIS!" Vin shouted, peering inside the first 'tomb'. "Hey... wake up..." He eyed the ring of keys on a hook over the door. "Ezra, git them keys." He didn't wait and continued going to each small doorframe. "LAR'BEE!... CHRIS!"

"It's alright," Ezra reassured the skelatal creature who backed away when the door opened. "We are from the States. You are no longer being held here."

"CHRIS!" Buck shouted, trying hard not to gag on the putrid stench that was overwhelming.

"He... is... not... here..."

"Where is he?" Vin whipped around and strode over to an old man that staggered out of the third door opened by Standish.

"...He ain't... on... our... crew... they... have... others..."

"In the mine," Ezra guessed. "Go... Josiah and I will secure these creatures in the guards quarters."

"Keep an eye out," Vin warned, running for the door with Buck on his heels.

"I'll check the place, looks like an office." Buck stated, "I'll make sure you and the kid are covered out here."

JD waited for Vin to run past and followed him into the mine. The air immediately got cooler as they went deeper. Vin's keen ears picked up every sound and JD was careful to keep close and pay attention. Vin halted and held his arm up, then motioned for the younger man to go across to the other side.

"Hide..." Vin whispered, ducking down. He flinched and bit his lip when a wave of fire rolled across his back. He must have pulled something during the skirmish earlier.

JD darted over and knelt down, copying what Vin did. He trained his gun on the shaft that separated them. He saw Vin shaking his head, holstering his gun and drawing out a knife. He nodded back, the bullet would be too noisy and could pose a problem. He heard bootsteps and Spanish voices. The flickering torches above them cast the entry in an eerie glow. The shadows fell first, giving their enemies an unnaturally large appearance. Dunne braced himself just as Vin sprang.

Buck found the office to be empty, but over the small fireplace was a large oil painting of a sinister looking Mexican with a pock-marked face. The gold plate on the frame identified him.

"Santiago," he read, glaring at the likeness. "So you're the bastard I'm going to have the pleasure of sending to Hell." He thought for a moment and took the painting down, then shoving it hard over the post on the tall chair by the table. He read through several documents until he found what he was looking for. Chris was listed on the current list, and there was entries as recent as the night before of a prisoner who'd died. He exited the building with a new sense of purpose. Chris was still alive, or had been as of yesterday. "Thank God... hang in there pard."

Vin's blade caught the first guard by surprise and by the time the angry Texan curled up his face in disgust as he drove it upwards, the man was dead. JD hit the other one hard on the back of the head, and Vin used the butt of his mare's leg to clip his chin, sending him down.

"I'll be back," Vin ordered, letting JD guard the downed man. "Shackle 'im t'the wall."

Vin crept slowly through the mine, careful to make sure there were no other guards. He didn't see any and then saw a huddled group of men, armed with pics. He didn't relax his stance, not sure of what mental condition they were in.

"I'm American," he called out. "My friends and me come t'rescue a friend, Chris Larabee. Is he here?"

"No," a voice called out. "He should have been, but he and Wilson are missing."

"How many are ya?"

"Ten..." a voice answered. "Five here and five on the other side."

"Git 'em," Vin directed, "The rest o'ya leave. Are there any more guards?"

"Four... and Luis... he was just here."

"Okay..." Vin eyed the drafty tunnels, keeping his gun up as the others staggered past. He took a moment to lean against the wall and try to adjust for the pain in his lower back. "Git t'the guards shack, m'friends have the others in there, it's safe. Ye'll get food and care."

One man paused and wept, taking Vin's hand. "Thank God... ya come..."

Buck saw them stumbling out and ran to give a hand. By the time he got them into the guard house, Nathan was already at work. The men were at tables, eating solid food. Nathan was assessing the ill and injured, glad to find most were able to walk on their own. What they needed most was good food, plenty of rest, a bath and some clothes. They were mostly weak from hunger and being overworked.

"We don't have much time," Josiah predicted, putting a bowl of fruit on the nearest table. "The army patrols these roads and if they wander in here, we better be gone."

"There are wagons in the back," Ezra stated, "We can load these men on them and head for the border."

"Where the hell is Chris?" Vin demanded loudly of the group. When he didn't get a reply, he picked up a glass pitcher and smashed it against the wall. That got their attention fast enough. The battered group froze and directed their eyes on him. "Lar'bee, tall, yella hair, shoots fire with his eyes. Where is he!"

"They took him and Wilson out a couple days ago," one man answered. "I heard the guards talking about a blood hunt in the desert."

Vin shot out of the room, Buck and Josiah ran to catch up. He strode over to where Nathan left the wounded guard tied up. He eyed the corpse on the post and cut it down, then turned to Buck.

"Git that Mexican cockroach up here," he directed, taking his knife out.

"Looks like Vin wants to parley with you," Buck hissed, ripping the white shirt and sending buttons flying. He and Josiah shackled the man's arms above his head on the twin posts. His heaving chest was covered in blood and sweat.

"Where's Santiago?" Buck asked, "Is he on the blood hunt? Is Larabee the one he's huntin'?"

"I do not know..."

"Wrong fuckin' answer!" Vin growled, cutting a large patch of skin from his back. He shoved the blade down the man's pants and leaned in close "Start talkin' or I'll cut yer balls off."

"I... do... not... know... Luis... he was with... them... the blood hunt... they let... let... the gringo... uh... men... loose in... the... desert... and hunt... them... " He nodded to the old stone arch. "...through... there..."

"Who's Luis?"

"He is in charge... when Santiago is not here... he was... in the mine when... you arrived."

"He didn't come out," Josiah noted, eyeing the mine. "He ran out the back." He paused and thought of the cowardly act. "That's a big surprise."

"We'll split up," Buck said, hitting the babbling guard in the head with his rifle and ending the whining prattle. "Me, Vin and Ez will head out through the gate, that's the only exit to the desert. You and the kid go thru the mine and out that exit, pick up Luis's trail, he's headed for Santiago. Could be that's where Chris is."

"JD!" Josiah called out to the youth who was in the door of the mine. "Stay there, I'll fill you in."

"Watch yer back," Vin warned, turning for the horses next to the guard's quarters. "Let's git movin'. EZRA!" He hollered, waiting for the green-coated southerner to appear. "Chris is bein' hunted in the desert by Santiago and some bastard named Luis. We're goin' on our own hunt.'

"Ever the sportsman!" Standish chimed, not missing the lust in the tracker's eyes.

Part Twelve

Vin's heart was pumping so hard he felt it coming right through his shirt. He didn't care about his pain or exhaustion. He put himself in a place beyond that. He felt a surge of heat in his blood and eyed the desert. He felt Chris stronger now than he had before and was sure his best friend was still alive. His fingers itched to carve the heart out of the sick animal that was hunting Larabee. A short time later, Buck's alerted call brought his horse up. He turned back and saw the mustached man pointing to the east.

"There's somebody out there," Buck called out, riding ahead.

"CHRIS!" VIn's hope went airborne as they approached the body lying in the sand. Buck was already off his horse and checking the man for signs of life.

"He's alive," Buck said, from where he was kneeling beside a young man with dark hair. "This has to be the other guy they said Santiago was huntin' with Chris." He used his knee to support the man's upper body and waited for Ezra to wet a handkerchief. A few moments of water on the burned skin brought a moan.

"Easy, my friend," Ezra soothed when two slits appeared where eyes should be. "We are friends of Chris Larabee. "

"I got some water, but don't gulp it," Buck warned, tipping the canteen to the parched and cracked lips that were caked with dried blood. "Hey, Vin, this guy needs Nathan, he's in a bad way."

Greg almost choked at the name that hit his ears. Had he heard the man holding him correctly? His worn eyes went to a young man with long hair and compelling eyes. He reached a trembling hand out and pulled his starving lips from the water.

"Tan..ner..." he gasped, his voice weak.

Curious, Vin dropped down and took the weak hand fumbled and hit his shirt. "It's okay, now..."

"...no... no..." Greg shook his head. "He said you'd... come... he... said... Chris... said... Vin... would come... Tanner... find... him..."

"Do ya know where he is?" VIn pressed, his eyes bright with hope.

"Luis... knows... Santiago... took him... away... this... morning..." His anger flared again and he made a weak fist. "...he and Luis... mean... bastards... tortured us... hurt Chris... laughed..." He shook his head sadly. "I tried... almost... got him ... to... border... so... close..."

"Ya had his back," Vin guessed, gently putting the weak hand down. "I'm grateful. We'll find him."

"I'll take him back," Ezra offered. "And catch up to you."

JD wasn't claustrophobic but the further they went into the mine, the narrower the tunnel got. He would be glad when they exited this place. He wasn't sure how Josiah was tolerating the close walls. His broad shoulders were scraping the edges. Then he tipped his face and felt air, fresh air.

"Hey... there's an opening..." Dunne announced.

"The Lord provides," Josiah answered, climbing through a pile of broken boards. He saw the fresh boot tracks and waited for JD to catch up. "Somebody came through here."

Quietly, they crept through the sparse wooded area until it bellied out into the desert. There was a man ahead on foot, a Mexican wearing garb like the other quards. Josiah jerked his head and grabbed JD, tugging him down behind some rocks. He indicated for the younger man to remain silent, then he called out in Spanish, making sure to use Luis's name.

"Hey..." JD whispered, "he's coming back."

"Course he is, he's dumb," Josiah replied, eyeing the scraggly rocks. "You keep your head down, he's armed. I'm gonna wait until he passes and jump."

JD crept backwards until he couldn't move, his face pressed to the dirt. He heard the heavy breathing and waited. The shadow appeared first, covering the ground in front of him. He heard the other man's cry of surprise and then the sound of bodies hitting the ground.

"JD?" JOsiah called out, struggling with Luis. There was no movement and he frowned. "JD GET OUT HERE!"

"Okay... sorry... you said to stay down..."

"Go back through the mine and get the horses, I'll wait here." Sanchez directed. He slammed the guard's head hard against the ground to stop his squirming. He then took his gun and two knives from the Mexican's waistband.

"I won't be long," JD vowed, heading back to the broken boarded entry.

"You best listen up," Sanchez warned, tying Luis's hands behind his back and hauling him to his feet. "The Lord didn't see fit to gift me with a slow temper. So I'm only gonna ask you once. Where is Chris Larabee?" He took his gun out to impress the point.

"He is dead," Luis answered.

"Now if there is one thing I hate worse that a cheater, is a liar." Josiah shot the guard's right foot, causing him to stumble and fall. He towered over him, taking aim at the other foot. "Let's try this again, shall we? Where did Santiago take him?"

Luis narrowed his eyes in contempt. "By now, he will be praying to die."

"Then I hope you're a religious man," Josiah snapped, hauling him back up by the collar. "Because if he's not alive when we find him, you're gonna be praying you were dead."

Dunne came around the bend riding one horse and holding the reins of two more. Josiah dumped Luis face down over one saddle, securing him. Then he climbed on the other horse.

"They're not far," JD stated. They hadn't rode very far when they passed Ezra riding slowly with a man tied to his chest. "Who's that?"

"I believe his name is Wilson, he was taken with Chris on the bloodhunt. He relayed to us that he is being held by Santiago and Luis knows where that would be." Standish cocked his head and eyed the guard unside down over a horse. "Can I presume?"

"You can," Josiah replied. "Get a good look, because when Vin gets through carving him up, he won't look this pretty."

"They're not far," Standish added, "I'll return as soon as I leave him with Nathan."

Buck and Vin had barely gotten underway when they heard hooves behind them. Buck turned and halted when he saw Josiah approaching. By the time the preacher joined them, Vin was already off his horse.

"I know you boys would hate to miss the party," Josiah noted, getting off his horse. He dumped the tied man onto the sand and kicked him in the side hard. "WAKE UP!" He squatted down, slapping his face hard enough to draw blood and getting his eyes to open. "It's rude not to be introduced and I do hate ill manners. Tell my friends your name." He tossed the gun and knives by Vin's boots. "He had these on him."

Vin's hair stood on end and he stood on the other side of Josiah, whipping his blade out. He knew before the quivering man's lips opened who this was. But he wanted to hear it, so he drew out his knife and cut the man's shirt from the waist up, making sure the blade caught a good deal of skin. The cry of protest only made him more furious. He rolled him over and cut his hands free. Before Luis or any of the others could react, Vin grabbed his wrists, spun the body flat on his back, then shoved the hands over Luis's head, putting one over the other and shoving one of the knives hard through them both, pinning the screaming man into the ground.

JD gasped and backed up, his stomach doing flips. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what actions would follow but didn't have any choice. He shifted his body so that VIn's back blocked the guard's body.

"I didn't hear ya!" Tanner barked, poising the blade at the panting man's collarbone.

"Go... to... hell... Gringo... Dog..." Luis managed,

"Now that's not very friendly," Buck growled, aiming his gun at the man's kneecap. "Answer the man."

"...Presidente Grant..." he spit at the long haired man, hitting his face. He continued to struggle, using his legs to kick out at his attackers

"Cut that out!" Buck warned, shooting the guard's right leg. "You're distracting Vin."

Vin calmly wiped the spit from his face and pushed the man's shirt away, revealing his chest. He put the knife down and studied the muscles and skin, probing the area with his fingers. Twice he went back to the soft side of his belly just below his belly button.

"What... are... you... doing..."

"Reckon he ate breakfast," Vin complained, eyeing Josiah and shaking his head "Sure does make a bigger mess, the foods still goin' through his innerds." He knelt over the man's lower legs and positioned himself, then picked up the knife.

"...no... no..." Luis realized what was going to happen. The blade went in swift, and with a flick of the wrist, he felt it penetrate. But he knew it wasn't deep and wondered why.

"I can make it last fer hours," Vin predicted, twisting the knife. He glared down at the man. "Say it."

"...Luis..."

Vin eased the pressure on the blade and felt the man sag. "Where's Chris Larabee?"

"...I... do... not... know...." He lied and the blade moved upwards, filling him with an agonizing pain so much so that he cried out and twisted his body.

JD was horrified and backpedalled, dropping to his knees and throwing up. He couldn't believe this was the same man he called his friend. He knew Vin lived a wild life and a dangerous one, but never suspected he had a side this dark. It chilled him to the bone.

"Larabee," Vin repeated calmly.

"...I cannot... the Patron will... kill... me..." Luis was more than a bit unnerved by the ice in the blue eyes.

"Mister, you can't be that dumb," Buck scoffed, pushing his boot hard on the bloody leg wound. "Where is he?"

"...adobe... not far... a few miles... or so... ahead..."

"Now that weren't so bad." Vin thought of the living hell this animal put Chris through and very slowly moved the blade up and to the left, exposing the pink intestines. His face not flinching at the agonizing screams or the foamy blood that spilled from the agonized lips. He remained in place until Luis went limp. He wiped his blade clean on the guard's pants, got up, eyeing the vultures circling. "Enjoy yer lunch."

Chris was delirious again. His mind wandered far from the sand and sun burning his skin to a beautiful blue lake. It was a glorious summer morning, full of the scent of wildflowers on the breeze. He watched as his new bride bathed in the water, the chemise clinging to every beautiful curve. Her teasing smile hinted for an invite. Then she slowly took the wet straps off of each shoulder. He shed his clothes and joined her there, molding himself to her and marveling and the power of love.

"Sara..."

A shadow fell over him and the dream ended, a blurry face above laughed down at him. He wanted to die, for the agony he was enduring was unbearable. There were bleeding cuts on both sides of his body and burns on his feet and chest. The head wound was causing unrelenting pain that felt as if his skull was being crushed.

"I think Senor Dog, you will not last for supper, so perhaps, it will be a midday feast, no?" Santiago eyed the oozing leg wound. "Beg!" He demanded.

"...go... to... hell..." Chris croaked through split and bleeding lips.

The bullet graze had been deep and the dirty bandage covered a red, swollen inflamation. Santiago mercilessly ripped the bandages off, taking skin with it and drinking in the aborted cry of pain. He eyed the green and yellow muck and calmly drew his knife out.

"Pedro, you will ready the dogs," he ordered, running the blade over the infection and flicking off the puss and bloody mess. Then he pulled out a bottle of whiskey and paused, readying himself for the scream that would follow.

The bone-chilling scream halted every rider but one. Vin raced ahead using Larabee's agonizing voice as his call to arms. He paused at the top of a hill which overlooked the adobe. Far below in the yard outside, he saw Santiago poised over the staked out missing man. Vin slid off his horse, took rifle out and laid on his belly. He took out his spyglass and observed. If he hadn't seen Chris's blood soaked chest rising and falling, he would have thought him dead. The rage he felt inside was like nothing he'd ever encountered before. He heard the other horses stop and his friends silently joined him. He handed the spyglass back and picked up his rifle.

"Holy Mother of God," Josiah whispered, looking through the spyglass before handing it to Buck.

"He's gonna let those dogs loose," Buck stated, watching the guard unlocking a chain that held three viscious dogs in place. "They'll tear Chris apart."

"Ya take out the dogs and the guard." Vin adjusted his site and eased his finger onto the trigger. "That Mexican maggot-faced bastard is mine."

"Vin, we're too far away. He's too close to Chris, you'll never hit him!" Josiah's jaw dropped as his words fell on deaf ears. He and Buck took aim and waited for the sharpshooter's signal. Once the shaggy head dipped, they took action.

Vin calmly pulled the trigger.

The shot jolted the semi-conscious man and his eyes shot open. For a moment, he wondered why he didn't feel the bullet. Was he in too much pain already? Why wasn't he dead? His feverish mind was trying hard to wade through what felt like hot mud inside his head for an answer. He saw the shock on Santiago's face when most of his right hand was blown off. The startled Mexican rose up just in time to have a second shot shatter his left knee . Chris knew as the scream of agony came from the Mexican beast, by the precision and placement who was the sharpshooter. When Santiago went down on his good knee, a third shot drove through his left elbow. The wiggling worm began to crawl, leaving a trail of blood.

Chris's heart began to beat quickly and he felt his pulse quicken. There was only one man who could shoot like that. He closed his eyes and his shallow breath came in heaving pants. The pain was all encompassing now, but he held on fast to the ebbing 9strength in his tortured body. One word formed in his mind. Not just any word, a name. A name that meant salvation.

"Vin..." His prayer went airborne over his cracked and bloody lips.

He drifted for a moment until he heard the thundering hooves. Boots appeared in his side vision and the tension from the ropes tying his arms and legs disappered. He heard the string of curses as the ropes were angrily taken from his bloodied ankles and wrists. He sighed hard when a trembling, calloused hand gently laid across his neck.

Vin left Chris long enough to kick Santiago hard in the face. He kept kicking until Chris's chief tormentor stopped moving. His pent up rage was coming out in short, shifled pants and he curled his fists to quell the intense fire shooting through him. Once he looked hard at Chris, he felt as if the discarded knife was stuck in his gut. That the man was still alive was nothing short of a miracle and a testament to his heart. He didn't hesitate, he dropped down and took the salvation that was calling him hard.

Chris allowed a gasp from deep within when strong arms lifted him and his head flopped just inside a hide coat against a familiar blue shirt. The long hair fell on his face and tickled his nose. He moved his head painfully, lifting one bloody paw up to touch the grubby, bearded face. The haunted blue eyes were far too hollow and lost. He'd been on the hunt for awhile. Vin had been hunting for him and it was clear even to his fevered eyes that Vin's soul was hurting. Their eyes locked then and and felt every bit of frustration, rage, anger and fear that was reflected there.

"...took you... so... long..."

"Ya look like shit, cowboy," Vin rasped, swallowing hard.

"Fuck you... Tan...ner..."

Vin sighed hard, dropping his own head when Chris flopped against him, finally surrendering to the agony. He held on fast, his trembling body trying to come to terms with the gravity of the situation. This was real. Chris was alive. Chris was alive. The tortured, bloody body in his arms was flesh and blood. The cold that had enveloped him so fiercly since Chris went missing was ebbing. That empty hole inside of him wasn't empty anymore. He tried to shift a bit, to relieve the pain in his back. Then he felt a stab of guilt, eyeing the incredible amount of barbaric torture his best friend had endured. He was numb all over; a part of him seemed detached. He couldn't believe this was actually happening.

Chris let the warm breath cascade over him, he inhaled deeply, letting it invade his tortured soul and become his healing balm. It amazed him that death's shadow that only moments before had been hovering nearby was now gone. He knew he would survive, no matter how long the road back was.

"We need to get him out of the sun." JD went to move towards Chris and Buck's arm hit his chest halting his progress. "What?"

"Show some respect," Josiah warned.

"Respect?" JD queried, trying to move Buck's arm. "He could die, you're all just standing here."

"He's not gonna die, JD," Buck predicted in a tight voice. He'd been moved by the tender scene before him. "Vin needs this as much as Chris does."

"Check the house, JD," Sanchez suggested. "Chris needs shelter. We can tend to him here. Go on now."

Buck and Josiah gave Vin a few more moments, then walked over. Buck winced when he saw the shocked look on Vin's face. He saw the tracker's arms trembling as they held Chris. He put both his own hands on Vin's shoulders and gave a solid tug, then squatted down, shoved his hat back and playfully tapped Chris's face.

"You're just aimin' to put me in an early grave, aren't you?" He teased. He felt his Larabee's free hand flopping against his leg and grabbed it.

Chris's eyes were only slits, bright with fever and shimmering in pain, but they fought hard to find Buck's. When the blurry pinkness cleared up, he saw the worry etched clearly on his oldest friend's face.

"...knew you'd come..." Larabee rasped, watching Buck swallow hard. "..thanks... Bucko..."

The use of his nickname, one used by Larabee alone was something that always touched him deeply. This time it hit hard, burying deep within. He didn't have any words to reply, they died in his tight throat. Just holding the weak hand and seeing those pale eyes was reward enough.

"Buck," Josiah said, handing a canteen down.

"No," Vin decided, shaking his head. "It'll be t'much fer 'im. Feel like a knife goin' through his gut. Git a rag..." He directed and waited until Buck pulled off his kerchief. "Soak it and give it over."

"Okay." Buck did as ordered, realizing Vin knew a lot more about this than he did. He watched as Vin wrapped the wet cloth around his fingers and moved them over Chris's parched lips. The mouth opened and the wet clothed fingers went inside.

"Easy now..." Vin gently encouraged, waiting a few moments and withdrawing. Twice more the effort was repeated, before Vin allowed the canteen. "Chris, jest take a little bit, ya hear? It's gonna hurt some."

Chris nodded and took a tiny sip, then another and another. Each time totally allowing his best friend to decide when the canteen was pulled back. He collapsed against Vin then, just as JD returned

"It's a lot cooler in there, must be the thick walls. It's real clean, has a good bed and lots of food and stuff." Dunne nodded to Chris who managed to nod back at him.

"...'ey sheriff..." Larabee slurred, even in his fevered haze he noticed JD looked abnormally young and more than a bit shaken.

Chris felt himself being lifted and wiggled weakly until he saw Vin's face. He directed his intent and the solid blue eyes that were his beacon. "...take... me... home..."

"I don't think so, Chris," Josiah answered.

"...far..." Chris managed, feeling himself fading. He kept his eyes on Vin's.

"A couple hours t'Grovers Pass." Vin shifted in the sand. He was totally undone by the pale eyes and knew just how much Chris needed to feel safe again.

"...make it..." the injured blond vowed.

Vin thought for a moment, gaining some inner strength from the determination he saw in Larabee's eyes. They could clean him up and patch him up here, update Nathan and have him ride with the others to Grovers Pass. Plus the longer they remained here, the bigger chance of the army or a rebel faction catching them. "Ya better," Vin shot back. "Ya up and die on me now, I'll track yer sorry hide to hell and haul ya back."

"...clean... up... soap... sew... cover... get... home... home..."

"Them's eight words," Tanner chuckled at the aborted orders. "Yer over yer three a day limit."

"Okay, Chris," Buck noted, "But's it's gonna be a rough ride, you're gonna feel it."

"...compared... to... hell..." Chris coughed, crying out at it felt like a knife stabbed his chest.

"Sooner we git 'im cleaned up, the better," Vin said. "That army could come anytime and we'll be vulture food."

"Come on," Josiah agreed, lifting Chris with Buck's assistance.

Vin watched them move for the adobe and finally let his breath out. He picked up one of the bloody ropes that had bound Larabee's wrists. He rubbed his thumb over the encrusted blood and felt that cold fear nipping at him. What if they hadn't been in time? As he stood up, he hissed and buckled his back. He remained bent over, holding onto his knees. His mind flashed to the rolling and dodging he'd done at the mine entrance when the guards began to shoot. He must have pulled something. . He remained bent over, breathing hard for several moments. Then he spotted Santiago and slowly eased his body up. The intense fiery pain in his back was forgotten; replaced by an icy resolve. He had unfinished business.

As Dunne suggested, the adobe was cool inside and the relief felt was immediate. Josiah and Buck laid Chris down in the bedroom on a large bed. JD was pumping water from a well outside the back door and filling buckets,basins and the large sink inside the adobe. Josiah found a shelf in the back room with white cotten sheets. He began cutting through them, getting large pieces to cover the many wounds and long strips to bind. He also found some soap and a pile of clean towels. The trio worked in unison, cleaning the grime and blood away. Larabee remained limp and unaware, only the occasional moan slipped out of his cracked lips.

"I'll ride back and get Nathan," Josiah said, "I can take that wagon back to Grovers Pass. I'll meet you there."

"Okay, kid you're with him," Buck suggested, gently cleaning the now unconscious man's wrists.

"He's not gonna die, is he?"

Josiah never heard JD sound so young and the doe-eyes the youth held on Larabee matched that. He moved over and gave the shoulder a pat. "The Lord's holdin' court on that, JD, but I do believe Brother Chris will beat this. He's stronger than most."

"It looks worse than it is," Buck stated, holding Chris up so Josiah could wrap a loose bandage around his side. Once that was done, he eased him down again. "He's weak and he's got a helluva fight with the fever, but he'll pull through."

"Will Vin?" Josiah asked, not sure of where the tracker had gone. It was clear he was shaken to the core by finding Chris and maybe needed a moment to regroup. "He's not outside."

"This hit him hard," Buck said, wringing out a soapy cloth and dabbing at a nasty wound on Chris's leg. "Best t'leave him be for now, he's shook up and not used to havin' a lot of eyes lookin' at him."

"Come on, son, sooner we get moving, the sooner we'll be over the border." Sanchez said, pausing long enough to pull a sheet up to Chris's waist. "I'll wire Orrin and update him."

"Good enough, preacher," Buck answered.

When the pair rode away, Buck finally took time to breathe. He turned back towards the bed, eyeing the battered body. Shaking his head, he moved closer, pulling up a chair. He lifted the wet head to give the fevered man a drink and that suggestion was met by Larabee resolve. Chris's brow furrowed and his wet head began to twist, his lips curling into a snarl .

"...kill you... sick... son... of... a... bitch..."

"That's it, pard," Buck issued softy, grabbing a wayward fist. "Use that fire you got and fight!"

Ezra was keeping guard atop the guard's quarters. The roof provided an excellent view of both roads that led to the mine. So far, the morning air was quiet, but he didn't relax his grip on the rifle he held. He hoped that Chris Larabee was alive.

Nathan eyed the large room with approval. Most of the men were cleaning themselves and changing into new clothes. They'd eaten and some were resting. His main focus was tending to Greg Wilson. From what he'd been told by the other prisoners, Greg had befriended Chris and tried to protect him. The young man hadn't regained consciousness yet, so it was a bit easier for Nathan to bathe and tend to his multiple wounds. Although none were serious, the leg wound was infected and was causing a fever. He'd drained it and loosely bandaged it.

A thump on the roof brought his attention from Greg to the ceiling. He turned from the bed and walked to the corner of the room, where a stairway led upwards. Ezra appeared in the doorway from above.

"Josiah and JD are riding in," Standish offered.

"Alone?" Nathan fretted. "That ain't good..."

"Would you prefer Vin and Buck to be riding abreast of them, carrying Chris's body?"

"Yuh got a point," Nate agreed, walking towards the window. Had they found Chris and he was too badly injured to be moved?

By the time Sanchez and Dunne rode up, Nathan was in the front yard. He met the preacher's gaze and didn't hide his fear.

"Chris?"

"Alive," Josiah stated, climbing down and turning to JD. "Get the wagon around here and get those men in it." He walked over to Nathan, "Buck and Vin are with Chris at this adobe a few miles from here We can't wait around for the army patrol or roaming banditos to find us."

"No, we can't." Nathan waited. "How bad's Chris?"

"Bad enough," the preacher noted, handing over a crude map he'd drawn. "Fever's high, he's got a nasty head wound and a leg wound, some stab wounds, burns, cuts, bruises..." He shook his gray head. "That bastard put him through hell. Buck's waitin' on you and Ezra. Me and JD'll take them over to Grovers Pass and wire Orrin."

"Alright. Help me get Wilson in the wagon first, the others will have to sit around him. "

Twenty minutes later, the wagon left with JD riding shotgun behind it. Ezra rifled through the office and got the records he needed to show to Orrin. He packed them in his bag and climbed on his horse. Nathan had packed an extra horse with supplies and medical requirements.

"Go ahead, I'll bring the horse, " Standish offered, knowing that the healer would ride quicker without that burden. The sooner Nathan got to Chris and ministered to him, the sooner they could head back over the border.

Part Thirteen

Buck didn't have time to sit very long. Chris was restless, tossing and turning, shoving against Buck and fighting him. Although it wasn't very long, it seemed to forever to Buck. He wrung out a large towel and placed it over Chris from the neck to the groin, letting the cool water work. He shoved the fighting figure down into the bed.

"Easy there, Chris, it's just Buck." He ducked when a fist flew up but not fast enough, it hit him right in the eye and it hurt. "Even half dead you still got it," he chuckled.

"Buck?" Chris coughed, his heavy eyes opening. For a moment, confusion rained down and his fevered gaze swept past the mustached man to the thick creamy walls.

"You're safe now. Nate's on his way."

"...Greg..." Chris choked in anger, curling up a fist when the memories of how hard his new friend fought to save them. "...saved... my ... life..." he turned to Buck and tugged on the shirt front. "...you have... to find... him..."

"We did, he told us where you were, Ezra took him to Nate. He's alive, Chris." The relief that passed over Larabee's features was genuine. Buck eased him up and supported him with his left arm while his right hand held a mug of water. He nudged the panting lips and got a full mug into the parched soul.

"...Vin..." Chris rasped, wondering where the Texan was.

"He's outside, he's fine," Buck answered. Truth be told, Vin wasn't fine and hadn't come near the house. Maybe seeing Chris so close to death shook him up. His head shot around when he heard a horse approach.

"...window..." Chris urged.

"Yeah," Buck agreed, easing Larabee down and grabbing his rifle. He crept to the window, cautiously peering outside. His shoulders sagged in relief and he let out a long breath. "Nathan!"

Buck went outside as Nathan arrived and his side vision caught something off kilter. He moved over to the area where Santiago had been lying in a heap. The barbaric pile of refuse was gone. Frowning, Buck moved a few feet away towards a small storage shed and found a pile of bloody clothes that had been cut away. His own blood ran cold and he eyed the hills above.

"What the hell are you doing, Vin?"

Vin traveled just far enough to be out of sight. Santiago was gagged and thrown over the saddle in front of him. The tracker's keen eyes skirted the landscape until they caught something very distinctive. Nodding, he paused, got off the horse very carefully. Using quiet movements, he hauled the brutal guard over his shoulder and laid him on the ground. He quickly staked the sadisdic beast's hands over his head and shoved his legs apart. After staking him down, he returned to his saddlebags and slipped his hand inside. He rummaged around until he hit metal. Drawing the tin of peaches out, he pried it open and tipped the lid, ensuring the peaches would remain inside for now. He poured the juice over the eyelids, causing them to twitch. Santiago blinked and woke up, the dark eyes were full of fear, darting back and forth.

Santiago's heart slammed against his chest, he was going to die. For a few seconds, he wondered why the long-haired gringo wasn't using his knife. His muddled brain couldn't decide if the pain he felt was from his wounds, the beating he'd sustained or the unknown. He didn't know what the gringo was doing, pouring the juice of the peach can on his neck and then laying some of the cut up fruit on his groin. His confusion was short-lived when he turned his head to the left and his eyes saw something that caused his chest to nearly explode in icy anxiety. He shook his head, muffling the word 'no' over and over.

Vin tred softly back to his horse, mounted it and turned away, moving to a short bluff overlooking his prey. He took his time, using the tip of the knife to eat the few peaches that remained. He lifted the empty can and took aim, then decided not to. They'd come out soon enough, in small bands. It was better that way, it would take longer and Santiago would suffer more. His eyes caught movement and he watched a few of the fierce creatures approaching the bait.

Santiago screamed but nobody heard him. He struggled in vain against the stakes, his bloody body buckling in pain. The first round of pain was on his neck, a few moments later, a deeper level of pain erupted all over his groin. He continued to scream, he had no more saliva, the urine soaked gag in his mouth took care of that. Then he felt them on his face, making a path towards the sticky peach juices on his eyelids. That was when his trip to hell truly began.

Vin watched as the first scouts scurried and tasted Santiago's neck. Soon more joined them, covering the coward's groin and gnawing on the peaches and the fruit beneath. Then a large group climbed over his cheeks and began to eat his eyes. Vin watched Santiago's body buckle and his head twitch, fighting in vain against the inevitable. The neck and groin begin to turn red, as the venom caused the bitten area to swell into dozens of white pussy postules. He drew a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag, took a slow draw and watched as an army of deadly red fire ants slowly began to devour him. Dozens more poured out of the mound of dirt nearby and headed for his feet, chest and spilled into his ears. The body continued to twitch and jerk, the unseeing eyes were gone, leaving two black holes filled with fiery ants. He watched until the last foot twitched and then took a final swig, capping the bottle and tucking it away.

Vin used the short trip back towards the adobe to fill his pockets full of aloe. The sound of hooves brought him to the edge of the overlook. He saw Nathan fly past and heard Buck's call. He was relieved that his best friend was finally going to be prepared to leave. He wanted to be on the other side of the border and was worried about hitting trouble on the way back. He went back to combing the edge of the mountain for the little plant that was invaluable for burns. He stuffed his large pockets until they were full and he eyed a thick patch ahead. Just enough to carry back to Nathan. As he pulled the plant up, something bit the fleshy part of his hand between the left thumb and first finger.

"Shit..." He pulled back, stomping on the little beast. "Dammit..."

He wasn't sure what kind of spider it was and he'd never been bitten by one. But he wasn't going to take any chances. He went back to the largest rock and sat down, taking his knife out. He winced as he cut the skin over the bite. He brought it to his mouth and began to suck the blood out.

Nathan rushed inside the adobe, brushing past Buck and moving quickly to the bed. His brows furrowed in concern when he saw the amount of damage down to his friend. His first concern was the shallow, raspy breathing. He put his bag on the table next to Chris and pulled out the stethescope.

"Buck, I need ya t'hold him up, I want t'listen t'his chest." He frowned and turned around, not seeing the tall cowboy "BUCK!"

"Yeah," Buck called back, torn a bit. He wanted to ride into those hills, he was worried about Vin's state of mind. He sighed hard, shook his head and reluctantly went to Nathan.

"Hold him up!"

"Sure, Nate," Buck replied, moving on the other side and lifting Chris. Both of Larabee's eyes shot open.

"Nate..." Chris coughed and panicked a bit when he couldn't stop. The pressure caused a burning pain to his ribs and back. His head felt like it was about to fall off. "...I'll take the catpiss now..."

"Chris, I know yer hurtin' somethin' fierce," Nate assessed, studying the pupils in the patient's green eyes. "But I need ya to breathe in fuhr me, okay. A couple times if ya can."

Chris nodded and did as he was told. Nathen didn't talk, rather he moved the listening tool around his chest and then his back. Finally, he was given some water and lowered onto the bed. He felt Nathan prodding and poking at his various wounds and twice was rolled onto his side. He closed his eyes, he was much too dizzy with them open.

"Yuh done a good job," Nate commented. Chris's wounds had been cleaned and most of his body was washed and rid of grim, grit and blood. "I'm gonna need yer help."

"Okay," Buck answered. "The leg's bad isn't it?"

"It could be worse," Nathan used a tool to move the inflamed skin around the right calf wound away. He smelled whiskey and nodded thoughtfully. "Yuh doused it?"

"No, Santiago did that," Buck answered, "We didn't want to wrap it, it was oozing crud."

"Yuh done right," Jackson agreed, "I'm gonna dig out some bits of cloth and stuff, that's causin' the infection. Then I'll pack it with lint soaked in carbolic and keep it wrapped loose. " He nodded for Buck to move behind the bed "Hold him down, this is gonna hurt."

Buck waited and watched as Nathan pulled thread, cotton, gravel and other bits of debris from the leg. Then his dark eyes came up and he nodded . Buck pressed his palms down onto Chris's shoulders. He watched as Nathan poured carbolic into a bowl filled with cotton pieces. When the darkskinned hands moved over the nasty wound, Buck braced himself.

Ezra had just arrived when a cry of agony from the adobe swirled in the air. He jumped off his horse and went to the pack horse, grabbing all the sacs. He used his boot to kick on the door, both arms full of the bags that Nathan packed. Buck opened up, taking the largest bag.

"How is he?" Ezra asked, walking through the well appointed room to a table that was next to the bed. He set the bags down and went closer.

"Alive," Nathan replied, pulling items from the bag. "I don't like this fever, it's bad. He's breathin' ain't good. That leg wound is a mess, I just hope it heals okay."

"We gotta get him patched up and ready. We can't stay, Nathan." Buck put the large bag down and rummaged inside, pulling out a long pair of thin scissors.

"He can't ride nowhere!" Nathan issued crossly, pointing down to Larabee. 'Hear that funny breathin'? His lungs are congested. He ain't up t'sittin' on a horse, he's loaded with fever."

"We can't stay," Ezra agreed. "That mine is inspected on a regular basis by the Mexican Army. By the records kept in Santiago's office, a patrol is due in short order. Should they arrive, we wouldn't stand a chance."

"Grovers Pass is a couple hours away, he'll make it," Buck vowed, lifting the metal tools out one by one with pliers from a pot of boiling water. He put them on a large platter they'd found and sterilized, then covered with clean cloth. He carried the plate to where Nathan was waiting.

"Where is Mister Tanner?" Ezra inquired.

"In the hills," Buck answered. "I'll go find him."

"No, your place is here, I'll go." Ezra turned away and was at his horse when Buck caught up to him. He saw something in the rogue's eyes that was troubling. "Is there a problem?"

"I hope not," Buck answered, nodding to the bloody patches of ground where Chris was tortured. "That's where Santiago was torturing Chris. Vin..." He turned back and pointed to the area on the hill where they'd spotted Larabee. "was way up there. The first shot took most of his hand off, then one to his knee and a third to his wrist."

"Ever the marksman," Standish noted and saw the worry glinting in Buck's blue eyes. "And..."

"And JD, Josiah and me brought Chris into the adobe. Vin disappeared." He paused and gazed at the shed. "When Nate rode up, I went over there and all I found was tattered pieces of Santiago's clothes."

Ezra didn't reply at first, his jade eyes went to the hills above. He didn't understand the deep bond that Larabee and Tanner shared, but he envied anyone a kinship like that. No doubt Vin was still hurting and that raw festering would inside would not heal until he he sought out his own form of retribution.

"I'll find him," Standish replied softly, accepting Buck's grip on his shoulder as payment. He knew Wilmington wanted to go.

"How long Nate?" Buck asked, returning inside and shutting the door.

"I don't know!" Nathan barked, cutting the dirty bandage on Chris's head. He lifted it and took it off, throwing it on the floor. He felt Buck's eyes bearing on him and lifted his own. He dug into the inflamed flesh with a tool that had a concave spoonlike end, using it to dig out puss. Flicking it onto the floor he sighed hard.

"Nathan," Buck pressed, drilling the irate healer. "How long?"

"A half hour, but I'm doin' this under protest."

He was angry and didn't hide it. Fortunately, Chris was now unconscious, so he didn't feel the carbolic that cleaned the graze on his head. Nathan wrapped it, tied it and lowered the head back down. He eyed the other minor wounds and handed Buck the bottle.

"Yuh clean up the cuts, I'll stitch the cut over his hip and take the burns." Nate went to work, quickening his pace.

The sound of a horse brought Vin's head up. He got his mare's leg out and tilted his head towards the clearing. He saw the jacket first, it's bright color bleeding through the dusty landscape. He relaxed, sighed hard and put the gun away. The rush was ebbing away and the pain was back. He tried to rise but his back protested and he bit his lip when the pain ripped across the bottom of his back. Cradling his injured hand, he spit a wad of blood out.

Ezra's brows were furrowed in concern when he saw Vin holding his left hand and noted the fair features were twisted in pain. He got down and approached cautiously.

"What happened?"

"Somethin' bit me," Vin answered.

"A snake?" Ezra's voice rose in alarm, that could be fatal.

"Naw." Vin shook his dirty head, using his good hand to sweep his sweaty hair back. "Some fuckin' brown spider... bigger than most and had fur on it."

"Where is it?" Ezra asked and Vin lifted his boot.

"Oh." He eyed the bloody hand and Vin saw his question coming.

"Never got spider bit b'fore," he updated. "Wasn't sure what t'do, so I cut it and drew the blood out."

"May I?" Ezra asked, nodding to the boot. He didn't like the fear riddled blue eyes that were beseeching him silently. He squatted down and eyed the smashed up remains carefully.

"I was hoping you didn't see wrong. The desert often houses Black Widows. That would have been fatal."

"Shit." VIn's head came up. "It ain't that big..."

"Spiders release venom when they bit their victims, just like a snake." He rose and rested a hand on Vin's hide coated shoulder. He wondered how he was tolerating it in this heat.

"It's bite is not fatal, however, there will be some rather ghastly side effects of the venom."

"Ghastly," Vin spit the word out and wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Like how?"

"That depends on how your body reacts to the venom. You might only suffer pain in the hand and a bit of nausea. There might be some profuse sweating or labored breathing. Or your speech may slur and there is vomiting."

"Great," Vin huffed in annoyance. "Jest what Nathan needs." He lifted his eyes to Ezra then, "This stays' 'tween us, Ez, understood?"

"I'm sorry, Vin, I can't agree to that. You might have minor symptoms that the others would atest to fatigue. You could retire to a room and sleep it off."

"What's the problem then!" Vin snapped, he felt a headache coming.

"That venom could also cause you to become very ill. Vomiting, feverish, muscle pain and also, that wound may not heal without treatment. Sometimes the skin and muscle around it become very painful and crusty." He saw the plants sticking out of Tanner's bulging pocket and got a bag.

"Alright," Vin sighed, eyeing the throbbing hand. "We'll wait an'see. If it ain't s'bad, I'll puke and sleep it off. " Vin drew out all the plants he'd collected and dumped them into a burlap bag that Standish held out.

"But if you fall ill and it's something I cannot tend to, I will summon Nathan," Ezra drilled and the shaggy head dipped once. "Good. I'll secure this and get my canteen. I have some soap in my saddle bag. We can clean it and wrap it."

Vin's face screwed up when Ezra cleaned the wound. The gambler had a soft touch, the fingers defty probing the wound and ensuring it was clean. Twice he saw the knowing eyes skirting around the immediate area.

"Lookin' fer somebody?" Vin asked, when the conman began cutting one of his long white handkerchiefs into strips.

Ezra didn't reply at first, he carefully covered the wound, leaving it loose. Then he tied a long strip around and covered it again. He stood back and watched as Vin stood, he was a bit surprised when Vin's bandaged paw latched onto his arm. The pain he saw was not all from the wounded hand.

"Should I be?" Ezra answered and Vin straighted up, removed his hand and slowly met his gaze. The passion in the blue eyes was something to behold. Whatever happened out there to Santiago was part of a salve needed to heal the wounded hole inside of Vin Tanner.

"No," Vin answered, turning towards his horse.

Ezra nodded, it was clear Vin was not ready to share whatever method was chosen for Santiago to meet a grisly fate. And Standish respected that. Having seen what the animal had done to Chris Larabee he deserved whatever choice had been taken. So when he was on his own horse, he met those heated eyes again and nodded once, sending a silent vote of support.

By the time Ezra arrived, Nathan and Buck were readying Larabee. He handed over the large amount of aloe and saw surprise on the healer's face.

"This is good, Ezra, real good," Nate acknowledged. "I'll show ya what t'do, we need to rub some on his shoulder, thigh and the bottom of his foot. "

"His lips too," Buck thought, grabbing a plant. He saw Vin hovering in the doorway, his normally tanned face seemed to have lost all it's color. Even his usually expressive eyes were void. He wondered if it was more than just exhaustion and worry that was causing it. "Vin, he's bad, but he won't die."

Vin bit his lip and nodded, keeping his left hand in his pocket. The bite was throbbing now and he hoped the headache wouldn't get worse. He had to keep appearances up for at least the next few hours. He saw Ezra studying him, his face was a mask to most but not to him. He knew the Southerner was worried and nodded once, expressing his gratitude. The stench of blood and puss became too much and he ducked outside, sucking in air. A moment later, a mug of water was in front of him

"Here," Ezra said, watching until the water was consumed. "I'll ride with you in the back."

"Thanks, Ez," Vin whispered, taking a long breath. Suddenly, the hills on the horizon that were near their ranch seemed a thousand miles away.

Buck and Nathan carried Chris out. They'd dressed him in loose fitting cream colored cotton pants and a long tunic. Vin and Ezra moved to take him, as Nathan climbed onto his horse. Buck went inside and got the sacs and medical bags, tying them to Nathan's horse and the spare horse.

"Let's go home!" Buck roared, securing the last tie and heading to help the others lift Chris up onto Nathan's horse. Then he would tie the injured man crosswise from the hips to the shoulders to Nathan, so he would be secure.

"Music to my ears," Ezra agreed.

Something inside Chris Larabee, far deep inside, caused him to rouse. It was a place beyond where pain was felt. He knew Vin held him, the smell of the soft hide coat was unique. He lifted his face from where it was lying against Vin's shoulder. He studied Tanner's face a moment, seeing pain radiating in the sky eyes. He saw fear there too and wondered on that. He didn't know the hell Vin had endured inside during the time he was missing. But he had to let him know just how much he meant. He pulled his bandaged wrist painfully and moved it, until it snuck under the hide coat and over Vin's heart.

Vin was startled by the feeble touch and wanted to latch onto the shaking hand but had to hold onto Chris. He saw the burned lips moving and dipped his head to hear the scratchy voice. The hand that was now palm down and pressing onto his heart caused an odd heat to go right through and envelop him.

"...blood..." Chris whispered, his voice strained and weak.

"...on blood..." Vin vowed, understanding the heartfelt words and how much they meant. Blood on blood was the deepest bond, closer than brothers. One in which you shared the same heart, soul and spirit. A cherished bond that would be treasured and endure until the both left this sweet earth.

Nathan was already moving out and Ezra was mounted and about to follow. Vin was about to put his boot in the stirrup when a shadow fell across him. He wasn't surprised when he turned to an angry face. Buck held up Santiago's bloody shirt.

"You gonna tell me?" Buck finally spoke. His eyes went to the knife in a leather scabbard on Vin's hip.

"Didn't use a blade, didn't hafta. I done m'job," Tanner addressed the angry eye movement. He knew Buck was pissed and he understood that need to purge. "Same as y'all."

Buck was pissed and he knew that Vin wasn't going to apologize. He also knew that Vin was right. The most important issue was getting Chris to shelter and addressing his needs. But a part of him wanted to feel that satisfication that Vin had gotten by making Santiago pay.

"Up yonder." He nodded his head in the direction of the path he'd taken. Buck was hurting too and full of the same kind of fire that had consumed him. The larger man didn't answer, he turned away, throwing the shirt down and grabbing the reins of his horse.

"I'll catch up," Buck called back tersly, galloping down the road.

"Shit," Vin hissed, leaning heavily against the side of his horse. He closed his eyes a moment and tried to quell the bile rising. Despite a wave of dizziness, he saw a blur of a red moving to dismount. "Git up with Nathan, he'll be wonderin'," Vin gasped, heading for the bushes nearby.

Ezra rode slow enough to hear Vin retching and keep and eye on Nathan, who'd stopped and was trying to turn slightly without disrupting Chris.

"We're coming," Erza hollered, watching Vin stagger from the bushes and spitting out residue on the way to his horse. Once the shaken tracker had rinsed his mouth and climbed onto his horse, swaying slightly, then righting himself, Standish continued.

"Where's Buck and Vin?" Nathan asked,able to Ezra finally.

"Just down the road, trouble with one of the horses," Ezra said.

It didn't take Buck long to get there. He saw the vultures circling and then the stench hit him. On his way to the spot, he was wondering how Vin had done it. Had he taken a scalp? Or maybe used the blade as he'd done with Luis. But he wasn't prepared for the grotesque corpse that met his eyes.

"Jesus God," he choked, gagging at the horrific sight. Thousands of ants covered what was left of him. He didn't get closer, he turned away, partially ashamed of his actions. But a part of him was now satisified.

Grovers Pass
Noontime

Buck made up for his lost time, riding ahead of the others, needing to seek out the doctor's office before Nathan arrived. He urged the horse up the street, his eyes scanning each side for a sign bearing a doctor's name. Then he saw JD waving at him from the edge of town. There was a small white clapboard house with a white picket fence around it. It had a large sideyard and he saw some of the men Josiah and JD brought in sitting on a bench under the shade of a large tree.

"Where's the others?" JD asked, when Buck rode up.

"About a half-hour behind, I rode ahead. How's that guy... uh..."

"Greg Wilson," Dunne noted, "He's out cold but the doctor said he'd be okay. His leg's infected and he's beat up good, has a fever. How's Chris?"

"Alive," Buck answered, getting down and securing his horse. He eyed the pump in the sideyard and headed for it.

"What about Santiago?" Dunne inquired.

"Dead." Buck spat out, "Where's Josiah?"

"Wiring home and the Judge," the youth replied. "I got us some rooms at the hotel, they only had four left."

"That'll do," Buck agreed, pumping water hard and sticking his head under it. Between abnormal amounts of sweat clinging to him, he was covered with dirt and grime from the desert and ride back. "Damn, I itch in more places than I can count."

"Yeah, the smell sort of gave you away," JD teased. "How'd he die?"

"Doesn't matter now," Buck answered, cupping his hands and getting a drink.

"Well, I mean after what Vin did the that other guard..."

"You don't have the right to judge him, JD," Buck defended, jabbing a finger in the flushed-face youth's jacket. "You're not comfortable with what Vin did, you get over it, it's done." He shook the water from his face. He knew nothing he would say could change how JD felt about what he'd seen. JD was brought up back east in a large city, thousands of miles from the wild areas of the west where it was a whole different world. "And don't push him about this, understood? He's wore to the bone and don't need you houndin' him about that."

"I just wondered, Buck. I mean he cut that guy up like a deer. What did he do to Santiago?"

"He didn't use his knife," Buck supplied, "And I saw the corpse lyin' in the dirt. He's dead and it's done."

"Alright, Buck, back off," JD's ire rose. "I got the right to disagree with what I saw. And I'm not that insensitive. I know Vin's not himself and I wouldn't badger him."

"How are they holdin' up?" Buck nodded to the men in the yard and changed the subject.

"Most of them seem okay, just tired and hungry. The doctor's gonna check 'em over later. I told the others to go to the boarding house."

"That's good, the Judge will want to talk to them." Buck eyed the merchantile and the road from town. "I'm gonna get a quick bath and some fresh clothes while things are quiet."

"Okay, I'll watch out for Nathan."

True to his word, Ezra Standish remained just a few feet in front of Vin's horse all the way back across the border. The heat of the day seemed to double with every mile and Ezra was soaked in sweat. He'd even taken his coat off, something he seldom resorted to. He paused to drain his canteen, frowning as he shook the empty water vessel. He turned back and frowned at the odd posture of his friend. To the untrained eye, Vin appeared to be road weary and worn. But Ezra's eyes never failed to see what most missed and he saw pain rolling off the Texan. The normally keen blues eyes were dull and seemed to be distant and the square jaw was clenched too tight. But he'd ridden with Vin before and never saw him sitting a horse in such fashion. Anyone suffering from this heat and clinging with sweat would be slumped in the least. But Vin was sitting too straight and Ezra wondered if the tracker's back was acting up.

Vin saw the jade eyes flick to his hip and his mouth formed a straight line. He knew Ezra was worried and appreciated the fact that he'd taken the time to do so. But right now the only thing he wanted was too see Chris out of harm's way. His own aching body would wait. His first worry was getting off the horse without falling down or throwing up. He hoped it was just the heat causing his rocky stomach but he knew better.

"M'fine," he rasped.

"I didn't doubt it for a moment," Ezra drolled, "it's clear by your unnatural posture and that jaw that you are the picture of health."

Vin craned his neck to see the road ahead. "Who moved the town?"

Ezra enjoyed Vin's dry humor and took out his pocketwatch, glanced at it and then the road. He watched as Vin carefully took a small sip of water and then blanched. He was about to move to assist when the lean body buckled and jerked. The venom was working faster than expected. He'd hoped they'd make it to a room first, where he could help Vin in private. But then Vin relaxed a bit and his eyes closed. He took two shaky breaths and let them out slowly, before opening his eyes.

"I ain't gonna fall," Vin snapped, "Git up the road, yer crowdin' me."

"Charming as usual," Ezra smiled, "I have found it better to ride more cautiously in this type of heat."

"Yer tongue's all twisted up," Tanner accused.

"And you're welcome," Ezra charmed, knowing how terribly uncomfortable Vin was now. "If you can manage to remain upright for about twenty minutes, you will be rewarded with a soft bed in a cool room."

"After..." Vin replied, gagging a bit and swallowing back the bile that rose.

"He'll be in more than capable hands," Ezra replied, knowing what the cryptic reply meant. "And Nathan is not that blind, my friend."

"Point taken," Vin conceded, sighing again. He used what strength he had to concentrate on remaining in the saddle.

Grovers Pass

Nathan didn't know the last time he was so relieved. Although the trip back had gone well, considering the heat and rough roads, he wanted to get Chris to a doctor. The lean gunslinger was tied to him and soaked with fever. He saw Josiah cross the street at the other end of town and then JD shout to the preacher. Dunne waved to him and pointed to a clapboard house.

"Thank God," Nathan hissed, eager to be out of the saddle. Chris was dead weight now and if not for the secure lines that bound them, he'd never have been able to hold onto him. He urged the horse to pick up it's pace until they were at the side of the yard. "I think I could kiss ya," he greeted Sanchez, who was cutting the ropes.

"I look desperate to you?" Josiah replied, taking Chris Larabee's limp form. from the weary healer. He saw the dark eyes of his close friend flicker with doubt for a moment at the sign on the door bearing the doctor's name. He knew that Nathan had been insulted on more than one occasion because of his color, especially by those in higher end professions. "He's a Quaker," he reassured and felt the relief when Nathan relaxed. Quakers were responsible for a lot of slaves gaining their freedom and he knew Nathan would be welcomed here. Both strong hands moved under Chris's arms from behind. "JD!"

"Yeah..." Dunne scrambled over, taking Larabee's legs. "Door! Door!"

"Okay," Buck hollered from the inside of the house, then opening the door. The quick bath and new clothes rejuvinated him. "Got 'im, kid?"

"Yeah..."

"In here." Buck lead the way through the parlor down the hallway and into a spacious room in the back of the house.

Nathan eased off the horse and stretched, then secured the animal. He quickly moved up the path and into the home. He saw JD disappear into a room at the end of the house. Wide planked wooden floors gleamed under solid wood furniture. Crisp, white curtains adorned the windows which looked out onto a grove of trees. It was immaculate, from the pewter lamps to the home made quilts and polished table and chairs in the corner with a vase of fresh flowers. The room was also very cool, which would be a blessing . One of the two beds was occupied by Greg Wilson. A man about fifty or so, tall and thin with gray hair shooting through dark gold was about to wrap a bandage on the young man's leg.

"This is Doctor Franklin," Josiah introduced, lifting Chris so Buck could peel the wet shirt from him. "He's been tending to Greg."

"Nathan Jackson." He walked over and shook the man's hand. "How's he doin'?" He nodded to the dark haired man in the bed. The flushed face and damp skin warned of a fever.

"Given a week with rest, medical care and good food, he'll recover nicely."

"I can take care of Wilson," Nathan offered of the bandaging. "Just give me a minute t'clean up."

"Certainly," the doctor replied, "Your friends have spoken highly of your talent. I would welcome the help."

"I'd be grateful t'learn from ya, thanks," Nathan answered. He got a good feeling from his man .

"My wife Mary is at the store, getting everything we'll need. She's a very good nurse. There are some men in the yard, from the prison with minor injuries. If you could help with them, we can send them to Mrs. White's with the others."

"The boarding house, " Dunne translated to Nathan. "Can I help?"

"How about we get Nathan's bags and then see to the horses," Josiah offered. He knew Buck wouldn't leave Larabee's side and although the room was spacious, with two injured men and two healers, they didn't need anymore bodies in here.

"If you gentlemen would come back by perhaps three o'clock, Mary will have a fine lunch ready outside on the porch and I can update you on your friend."

"Thanks, Doc," JD agreed.

Ezra led the way into the livery and quickly dismounted, turning just as Vin swayed badly. He grabbed Vin's elbow and held on, then pulled the dazed man's foot from the stirrup. He knew how bad the situation was when the normally fiesty tracker offered no argument. By the time both feet hit the floor, his knees buckled.

"Aw, shit, not now," Vin rasped, as his knees buckled and the whole stable seemed to twirl.

"You are after all, a Tanner," Ezra reminded him and the body straightened up. He held on to the wavering soul for a moment than the shaggy head dipped once. Ezra didn't miss the fact that Tanner's head and face were soaked.

"Vin!"

When JD's voice sailed through the barn, Tanner's feverish face paled. He lifted his head and caught Ezra's steady, cool gaze. He held on to it a moment and regained his balance. He gave a short nod and took a few steady breaths.

"'ey, kid," Vin croaked, turning around slowly.

"You look awful," Dunne said, wondering if Vin was more than just worn out He couldn't tell what was wrong but felt something wasn't quite right. "I'll get your horse, Vin. Doctor Franklin's is at the end of the street, he's workin' on Chris. He said for us to come back at three for lunch. That other guy, Wilson, he's gonna be okay and..."

Vin wasn't sure what JD was saying. He saw the youth's mouth moving and he knew a lot of words were coming out but all he heard was buzzing sounds. He managed to nod and grab his saddlebag and gun, then walk slowly towards the door.

"Hey... I wasn't finished... Vin?" JD called after him.

"Reckon he's just a bit worn, son," Josiah noted, clapping JD's back, 'It wasn't personal."

Ezra waited until JD passed by and took the reins to Vin's horse. The livery clerk returned then and Standish tossed a few coins at him to tend to his horse. He took his bags and headed out, wondering if he'd find Vin in a heap. His motions didn't go unnoticed and he found Sanchez beside him. To his credit, Vin was walking on his own, albeit slowly, up the street.

"That poor boy's white-eyed," Josiah spoke of Tanner's exhausted state.

"He's gone far beyond that," Ezra said, "And I'm sure until our fair-haired leader is through the worst of his travail, he'll be out of sorts."

"JD's got some rooms at the hotel, on the second floor at the far end. There's two doubles and two singles." He draped an arm over Standish's shoulder. "I made sure Buck got the other bed in your room, seein' as how you're so familiar with his ass."

"Ever the Good Samaritan," Ezra replied, his eyes catching the sign for the bathhouse. "I think I am bearing half of the soil and dust from that hellish terrain. Also, a change of clothes is in order."

"Not me," Josiah said, "Moses went forty days, I figure I've got a good thirty five left."

"Aren't we lucky," Ezra chased, crossing the street. He saw Josiah disappear into the Post Office. He kept his eyes on Vin until he saw Vin stagger and grab a hitching post. Then he moved quickly.

Vin wasn't sure what happened. He was proud that he'd actually gotten three-quarters up the street and saw the white house. Then the street began to move and he felt as if he was walking on a log. Just as he began to panic, a familiar drawl caught his ear.

"Dancing in public is not tolerated," Ezra scolded, leading Vin to a bench outside the dry goods store. "Lay your head back against the wall, close your eyes and breathe in deeply through your nose and out of your mouth."

Vin was too tired and sick to argue and did as he was told. He felt a cold cloth pressed into his hand and wiped his face and neck. He saw a flash of silver and a mug of water then but shook his head.

"No sense decoratin' yer boots," he warned of the sick stomach. He couldn't move the left hand, it was throbbing badly. Finally, he felt the world right itself.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell the doctor..."

"I'm wore out, Ez, I jest wanna sleep."

"The hotel is just across the street. I'm afraid the rooms are upstairs. Perhaps it would be better if I took your rifle and saddlebags?"

"Okay," Vin rasped, standing up and testing his legs. "Hell, shakin' worse than a virgin on her weddin' night."

"I wouldn't know," Ezra answered, then frowned when Vin kept going straight. "You realize Nathan will take one look at you and the jig will be up."

Vin kept walking. He wasn't that dumb, he didn't intend to stay. But he had to see Chris. He knew he was about to collapse and right now was walking on sheer will alone. His head hurt, his back was in agony and his hand ached. The pain in his stomach he hoped wouldn't turn out loose in his bowels. He got up the path and to the door, he tapped lightly and nobody answered so he opened it. Steeling himself against the waves of dizziness, he push all the pain aside. He willed himself to move, Chris was here and that was all the ammunition he needed

Part Fourteen

Doctor Franklin carefully went over his newest patient. The rope burns to his wrists and ankles were minor. They were washed, covered in aloe and wrapped. The ribs were bruised and the upper chest was littered with cuts and multiple bruises. There were serious burns on his thigh, upper chest and the soles of his feet. He was glad for the aloe plants, they were already being put to use. He carefully washed and dressed the head wound, glad that it wasn't very deep. Still, it was serious and the unconscious blond man could suffer bad headaches and dizzy spells for awhile. The other gunshot wound to the thigh was serious. It was inflamed, infected and causing a great deal of discomfort. At the slightest touch, it cause a cry of pain to escape his patient's dry and burned lips. He didn't bandage it, it had to drain. So he doused it and covered it loosely with cotton. The lint that was packed it in had done a wonderful job and this man was lucky he had a friend that was a good healer.

He took a moment to clean his hands again before addressing the stab wounds. He heard boots and turned as the tall man with the mustache returned with two pitchers of water.

"See if you can get that young man to drink," Doctor Franklin advised of Greg Wilson

"Sure thing, Doc," Buck agreed, placing one pitcher by Chris's bedstand and taking the other across the room. He poured a mug and sat on the bed, lifting Greg's head up. Two dark blue eyes opened and blinked fuzzily. He knew by the unblinking stare he was not aware of where he was or even that he was awake.

"Water," Buck said and the lips parted. Gently, he used the mug, slowly letting the water get into the parched soul before the eyes fluttered shut. "Good..."

Buck put the mug down and crossed the room, just as Doctor Franklin was spreading something on Chris's shoulder. The stab wound was healing well, despite the fact that Santiago had pulled the stiches out. The stab wound in his side was infected as was the one above his hip. Both were dressed and would need tending.

"Okay, son, I'll need your help," the kindly physician said, pulling the quilt and sheet down to Chris Larabee's ankles. "I'm going to roll him towards me. You stand beside me and grab him. I need to clean his back, those whip marks were deep."

"Jesus," Buck exclaimed when Chris's naked body was exposed. There wasn't much left off him that was flesh colored. The mottled flesh was scored in shades of blue, purple and scarlett. Cuts and open wound oozed puss and watery fluid.

"He's a strong man, despite the infections and the lung congestion, I feel he'll pull through fine."

"They don't come any stronger," Buck agreed, taking hold of Chris. He saw the features screw up and could swear he was glaring under those closed lids. He bend his head down a bit and addressed his oldest friend. "Hey, pard, you're doin' fine. We're in Grovers Pass and the doctor is here."

"The animal that did this should be brought to justice," the doctor wondered aloud, cleaning the infection from the deep whip marks slashing across Larabee's backside and lower back. He felt the heat of the scorching glare that Wilmington held.

"He paid," Buck said, his anger rising as he reflected on the painful fate that the butcher suffered.

"He's lucky to have a friend... friends... like you. All the money in the world can't make up for that."

"I'm the lucky one," Buck said somberly and then smiled soflty. "But a little more silver wouldn't hurt."

"No, I guess not," the doctor chuckled, completing his task. "Alright, easy now. I don't like that breathing, so he'll be propped up."

"Damn... Nathan needs one of those," Buck said of the odd squarish heavy pillow the doctor placed behind Chris. It allowed the fevered man to recline three quarters raised up.

"He's going to be restless as he fights this awful fever. He'll need constant care, bathing and despite his condition, he's strong and due to the delirium, he may become hostile. It's going to be a long day and I'll need your help."

"I'm not leaving his side," Buck vowed. Between Greg and Chris both fighting unseen demons, they would need extra hands. He pulled the quilt up to Chris's waist as the doctor's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm sorry young man, I have two serious ill patients I'm treating now, but if you would like to wait on the porch, I'll come out in a bit and have a look at you."

Vin's brows creased in confusion and he turned around to see who the doctor was talking to. He heard Buck's warm laughter then and felt his gut clench. There was something very comforting about that sound and he held onto the warmth it provided.

"He's talkin' to you, Vin," Buck laughed. "You look like shit, slick."

"Shut the fuck up, Buck," Vin soured and ducked when Buck's hand came at his hair. "Leave me be, don't be touchin' me. I ain't havin' m'best day."

"I can see that." Buck laid a hand on Vin's shoulder and swallowed hard at the wistful gaze. He saw so much in the tired blue eyes. Hope, pride and concern were all there, but mostly he saw fear. "He's got a fight ahead of him, but he's gonna full through fine, the doc said so. And you ain't gonna do him any good if you keel over and break that fool head of yours."

"I jest need t'..."

"I know, Vin," Buck answered softly, nuding him a bit. "But he'll be here after you get some rest and eat. You're halfway to a scrubboard now."

"Scuse me," Vin addressed the doctor. "Sorry fer that. I'm Vin."

"Tanner?" The doctor guessed and the worn face nodded. His trained eye told him this man was more than exhausted. He knew the pinched features were masking pain and the sour breath was tinged with the odor of vomit. "He was calling for you in his delirium. You must mean a lot to him."

"Yeah..." Vin choked, almost afraid to touch Chris. There wasn't many areas not burned, bruised, bloodied, stiched or marred. He managed to make it to the side of the bed holding the bedpost with his good hand. If he hadn't, he would have fallen right on Chris. He bent a little hoping the sunburned face would turn and those eyes would open. "'ey, cowboy..."

Two words but two that cut right through the thick, hot mud Chris Larabee was wading through. He wasn't aware of where he was, only that he felt safe. He felt kind hands soothing his scored flesh and heard soothing voices. Despite the waves of agony he was fighting, those two words became his lifeline. So he grabbed onto them, holding them close and clinging to them. He let them carry him through the storm, for they were that powerful.

Buck walked away to let Vin have his moment in private. He saw him sway a bit and knew how much this whole episode rocked his world.

"I have to get some more supplies for this afternoon, it's going to be a busy day. " Doctor Franklin paused, 'But I think you may be my next patient."

"Thanks, doc," Vin rasped, having already heard the doctor's fears about Chris's battle ahead. "I ain't ate or slept much since he disappeared. I'm wore out is all."

"I wouldn't be surprised if that caused the fever you're not hiding very well." He saw the eyes flash and a grim line form on the young man's mouth. He crossed the room and picked up a small brown bottle. "This will help with that upset stomach. I want you to drink plenty of water and find a good bed. "

"We'll keep an eye on him, doc," Buck promised and saw Vin's face screw up in annoyance.

Vin nodded at the doctor, who set the bottle down on the bedstand by Chris.The doctor excused himself, having to get some more supplies from his medical cabinet in the front room.

Vin wanted to leave but couldn't let go of the bed. He was afraid he'd fall over and didn't want that. The smell of the variety of ointments, balms and other medicine slathered on Chris was making his stomach turn. Suddenly the room seemed to get smaller and hotter and he began to panic. His knees buckled and he gasped when the room began to spin.

"Now that's it!" Buck ordered, striding over and grabbing the buckskinned arm. "You're dead on your feet and you ain't gonna keel over on him. I'm gonna go get that doctor to have a look at you."

"Ya ain't m'pa!" Vin shoved the bottle in his pocket and moved away. "I'm headin' out, jest need a bit o'sleep is all. Ya quit touchin' me or I'll tell Sadie and them ya got a crotch rash."

"You would too!" Buck laughed, ignoring Vin's threats and holding on to that arm until they got to the hotel doorway. Ezra was coming down the stairs with a new change of clothes draped on his arm.

Ezra froze at the foot of the stairs when he saw Vin. He'd made a terrible mistake. He should have alerted Nathan when they got to town. Vin looked like a walking corpse and Standish worried about the effects of the venom. What if he was wrong? What if the poison had gone too far?

"Ezra?" Buck hissed, "Didn't you hear me?"

"Reckon everybody else did!" Vin sassed of the loud call Buck gave a moment earlier. He shoved away and grabbed the railing. He knew the color that drained from Standish's face what he was thinking. It wasn't Ezra's fault and he dismissed any notions of Nathan. "Look, I'm grateful, but all I need is sleep." He directed it to Buck but stared hard at Ezra. "That doctor gave my some stuff t'settle m'belly."

"I left something in my room," Ezra said discreetly, turning and going back up the stairs.

Buck waited until Vin moved to the upper floor and disappeared, before heading back to the doctor's. He'd give Vin all day to sleep, but he'd be back over here to check on him tonight.

By the time Vin turned the corner, he saw a Ezra standing in front of an open door. He shook his head a moment, wondering how the Southerner was under water. The hall seemed far too long and even his steps felt like he was trudging through mud.

Ezra didn't say a word but he went into Vin's room and pulled the blanket down. He'd already put a towel on the floor with a basin on it. There was a large pitcher of water on the bedstand as well.

Vin gripped the doorway and steadied himself and a sense of calm came over him. He wasn't dizzy and the world righted. He took a good breath and made it to the room without collapsing. The bit of energy got him in the doorway and towards the bed. He never thought a bed could feel so good. He used his left foot to get his right boot off and then reversed. He took the bottle out and set it down. Ezra read the label and poured some in a cup and filled the cup with water. Vin downed it and grimaced. He spat his tongue like a frog dispelling a fly and gagged. He downed two more mugs of water and the bitter aftertaste lessened. He leaned sideways against the headboard and held his hand out. To his credit, Ezra was gentle and Vin relaxed just knowing he was there. But when the soapy water his his wound, he cried out and tried to pull his hand back.

"I'm sorry, Vin," Ezra apologized, eyeing the raw wound. It was deep and already crusting over. But it had remained clean and the bandage helped. "This wound will be painful for awhile, I'm afraid."

"It ain't that big..." Vin rasped, eyeing the red mark. "Hurts like a bitch..."

"Then I will apologize in advance for this," Ezra said, pulling out his flask.

"Aw, shit, Ez," Vin begged, not able to brace himself.

"Close your eyes, you'll relax more and it will be quicker," Ezra advised and ignored the free hand that pounded the wall and the wide-eyed pained blue eyes. He dabbed the whiskey fed wound until the crusty bits came off, then he applied some of the aloe he'd kept and wrapped it. He stood back a moment, watching as Vin rocked back and forth, cradling the hand to his chest.

"Vin..." he began, feeling almost guilty for the agony. "Perhaps the doctor..." But the damp, shaggy head shook back and forth.

"Jest go..."

"Very well," he managed, handing Vin some more water. Vin was after all an adult and he couldn't force him. At least he'd gotten something to help the nausea and aid with the fever.

Tanner took the mug and downed it, wanting the whiskey but afraid it would do more damage to his rocky insides. If he had an ax, he'd cut the hand off it hurt that bad. He felt awful about the wounded look in Ezra's eyes. The man had gone above and beyond to care for him and watch his back. Just as Standish was at the door, he called out.

"Ez?"

Standish was startled a bit by how very young Vin sounded and how vunerable he looked. Tanner didn't often let anyone other than Chris see this side of him. A part of him felt almost honored, that Vin would expose his soul like this.

"If I don't wake up..."

"I am not a priest, do not bare your soul, nor will I carry the burden of your untimely demise to our illustrious leader," he snapped harshly. The very idea of returning to find Vin's corpse had him rattled.

Vin saw right through Ezra's disguise. He knew the gambler had a soft spot for him and he was glad of that. He managed a half grin and cocked his head, his eyes lit up with mirth.

"I got a new set o'drawers in m'wagon at home, yer the right size," he noted, then eyed Ezra's crotchand arched a brow. "Well... almost."

"Hah!" Ezra grinned, accepting Vin's way of thanking him. "You sir, are barking up the wrong tree. Texas does not have the corner on growth."

"Yer jealous," Vin yawned, settling back. "...clear as dirt..."

"As clear as dirt," Erza repeated one of his favorite Vinisms. Buck swore he was writing them down somewhere.

Vin didn't hear the soft chuckle or see the depth of the feeling in the jade eyes that looked on hiim. He'd already surrendered to the blackness that shadowed him for too long.

Grovers Pass
Doctor's House

Chris had been in pain before but nothing came close to the agony that embodied him now. He wasn't even sure if there was a word that would come close to describing how he felt. Every inch of him from his hair to his toes throbbed without mercy. A mental image of a piece of pink ham frying in a pan over a fire came to mind. He wiggled his fingers and felt clean cloth under them. He inhaled and the scent of crisp cotton and wood polish was welcome. He let his eyes roam around and saw an immaculate room with dark wooden furniture. He saw a photo of Abraham Lincoln framed on the wall across from him. Then his eyes saw another body, a younger man with wavy dark hair who was sleeping. He narrowed his eyes and stared harder. He knew that man.

"Ah..." he grunted and clenched his eyes shut when images seared into his throbbing skull. So many and with such fury he couldn't realize all of them. A desert setting with a mean face and terrible torture. Pain. Agonizing pain and fire. He cried out again and twisted his face sideways into a pillow. Why wouldn't the pictures go away?

"Easy... easy now..."

"Nate?" he croaked, then made a face. Was that his voice? He frowned and peeled his eyes open. "...voice..."

"Don't try t'talk if it hurts. Yuhr weak as a kitten. Here, I got some water."

Water. Never did a word sound so good and he groaned in relief when the cold liquid filled his mouth and throat. He took two more and then some apple cider. It was sweet and he sipped it slowly. He was inclined on a bed in a room somewhere.

"...where... how... long..."

"We're in Grovers Pass at Doctor Franklin's house. We brung ya in this mornin'. It's about six now. I'm surprised t'see ya awake. Yuh been fightin' us and that fever." He saw Chris trying to see past him. to the other bed. "Yuhr friend's gonna be fine. As a matter of fact, he was up about a hour ago and I got some soup inta him."

"Greg..." Chris croaked, eyeing the other bed. "... saved my life."

"How's yer stomach?" Jackson inquired. "Yuh up t'some soup?"

"Yeah," Chris agreed, eyeing the empty room. "...can't recall... much... you... came..."

"It's a long story," Nathan said, rising from the chair he was sitting in. "We thought ya died, even had a corpse t'bury. But Vin... he had other ideas. He hunted and hunted until we found ya."

"...dead..." Chris coughed, grabbing onto Nathan's hand when the pain threatened to explode. "...shit..."

"It'll get better, yer in bad shape. That fever's gonna have ya wore out. Yuh'll be sleepin' alot. That's why I want t'get some food in ya whenever I can."

"...everybody... else... okay..."

"Tired... and worn... glad t'be home."

"Home." Chris laid back, draping an arm across his chest and thought on that word. He eyed the burns, cuts and bruises scoring his body and the torture he'd endured. He'd never take that word or his freedom for granted again. "...sweet... home..."

The men had eaten a large lunch on the doctor's porch, so they weren't very hungry at dinner. They had soup and sandwiches at the cafe and mostly were looking forward to sleeping in a soft bed. They were all worn out and the emotional toll played a factor in that.

"Well, if any of you gentlemen are interested in a game of chance, you know where to find me."

Ezra rose and nodded, tossing some silver coins on the table. He knew from the dinner conversation that they were all heading to bed early. Buck was going to sit with Chris for awhile so Nathan could get some rest. Doctor Franklin would give both his patients a strong painkiller which would allow them to sleep overnight. So the gambler was heading to check on Vin Tanner again. He'd been sleeping all afternoon with the exception and had consumed the water left bedside. He was surprised to find Vin rousing when approached the bed. He downed some water and also a mug of warm soup. VIn was not happy at being disturbed and threatened bodily harm if woken again.

When Chris woke again it was dark outside. The lamp was on he saw a tan shirted arm holding a mug of coffee. He eyed the brown panted leg that was extended on his bed and saw boots that he recognized. He wasn't surprised.

"...foot... down..."

"Sorry, pard," Buck apologized, drawing his foot down and easing forward. "You look almost human again."

"My hair hurts," Chris confessed and got a soft laugh for his trouble.

"I reckon it does," Buck agreed, pouring a mug of water for Larabee. "You're damn lucky. I still can't believe we found you. Talk about timing."

"Too close..." Chris agreed, taking the water mug Buck offered. "...that shot... I knew..."

"That boy's one helluva shot. We weren't that close. He never even blinked." He eyed the marred face in the bed and saw the wheels turning. "How much to you remember?"

"I was headed... home..." Chris paused sip on his water. "...road block... hit some tent city" . His eyes narrowed as he fine tuned the details. "...bastard drugged me." His lips curled up in distaste. "... bitch there was worse. Sick, fuckin' shewolf..."

"You won't get me to argument there." Buck nodded, thinking on Vin's persuasion. "We sent Ezra to try to ply information out of Gilbert. He wouldn't bite but she heard enough and figured Ezra was loaded, so she followed him out of town. Once he got her alone, she mentioned how talented she was at luring in the big ones and she could be his right-handed woman in their own set up. Then she made the mistake of mentioning how she tortured you. Once Vin heard that, he came out of hiding and she clamed up at first. It took a little persuadin' on Vin's part."

Chris heard the edge in Buck's voice change at the word and his facial expression asked the next question silently.

"Well, she wasn't cooperatin', so Vin well... he 'peeled' her leg a little with his knife. Then she spilled her guts."

"Good," Chris spat.

"So we rode to Mexico and found the mine, overpowered the guards and released the prisoners." Buck paused and nodded to the window. 'By the way, they're all okay. Worn out, underweight and all but they're fine. The Judge's is on his way here and they'll be giving him statements. That bastard Gilbert's days are numbered."

"Santiago?"

Chris wasn't sure what to make of the odd look that crossed Buck's face. The rogue leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and stared a spot far beyond the room. He had a hunch and played it.

"Vin?"

Buck nodded and sat back, his face not hiding the mixed emotions. He was glad Santiago died a grueling death, but a part of him wanted satisfaction still.

"You wanted a piece?"

"I did," Buck didn't hide is ire. "But Vin pointed out that we each had a job to do. Mine was to take care of you."

"He was right," Chris said, touched by the anger Buck held. "Thanks for that."

"I wasn't sure, you know? We had you bandaged up and were heading out and all I had was a pile of clothes Vin left when he stripped him and toted him off."

"Naked?" Chris frowned, his mind drawing up grisley images.

"I rode back to where he left him... there wasn't much left." Buck sat back and took a sip of coffee. "Fire ants... thousands of him, never saw so many."

"Half of them will probably die of indigestion," Chris commented dryly.

"I couldn't help wonderin' if he was alive when..."

"I hope so," Chris seethed, fisting one hand. "He was one sick bastard, Buck. I only wish I could have gotten him first."

A moan from the other bed took Buck from his chair. He stood over Greg a moment and soothed him, talking to him in low tones. He wiped the fevered man's face, forehead and chest, then managed to coax some water into him. Finally, the wet, dark head drifted back to sleep.

"I can't believe you found him," Chris noted of Wilson's rescue.

"We split up and covered the mine, the buildings and then the area outside. He told us that Santiago took you away. He felt bad about that." The tall man filled Larabee's mug with water.

"Shit, he saved my life, Buck. He had my back the whole time I was in there."

Chris thought hard for a moment and realized although most of his friends had stopped in over the afternoon and early evening, his best friend had not. Nathan said they all were fine, so where was Vin?"

"Vin?"

"Sleepin' over at the hotel. That boy's wore to the bone. He ain't slept or ate much since you went missin'. "

"How is he Buck?" The battered blond took in some water and watched the emotions on his friend's face.

Buck sighed, rubbed the back of his neck and took a long sip of coffee. "Best word," he hedged. "Possessed. This scared him, Chris, I've never seen him so out of control. Greg told us some guard named Luis knew where Santiago took you. Well, when caught up to him, Vin ripped his shirt off, straddled him and gutted him like a deer, but slow. I'm tellin' you, Chris, he's tough. I knew he was dangerous but you had to see him work, totally without mercy."

"Good!" Chris seethed. "Sick, fuckin' bastard got off torturin' us, Buck. I hope he rots in hell."

"We wired the Judge right off, told him about the mine and Gilbert. He's sendin' some men to shut that place down." Buck saw the blond blinking and took the mug from his hands. "You're still workin' on a fever, go on and get some sleep, I ain't goin' anywhere."

Buck was surprised when Josiah showed up early, before ten p.m. The preacher relieved him of his duty and the womanizer headed over to the hotel to get some rest. His thoughts went to Vin and he decided to check on him. Nobody except Ezra had seen the tracker since this morning and Buck tapped on Vin's door.

"Vin?"

He eyed his own room and slipped inside and then out onto the second floor porch. He looked inside Vin's window but could't see much. The window wasn't open and he couildn't move it, so he returned to his own room and got a lamp. Then he stood again by the window and peered inside. What he saw caused his stomach to drop to his boots.

"Aw, shit," he swore, eyeing the body half hanging over the bed and covered in sweat. There was a basin on the floor next to the bed. The basin and the towel under it were covered in vomit.

Buck moved back into his own room, put the lamp down and out and headed for the door. He had to get into the room and knew the person for the job. He didn't have to go far, he ran into Ezra in the lobby of the hotel.

"I was just comin' to find you, I need you to pick a lock," Buck urged.

"And just what makes you think..."

"My mama didn't raise no fool," Buck interjected, waiting impatiently on the top step. "Somethin's wrong with Vin."

"How so?" Ezra's voice didn't waver but his stomach was flipping. "I checked on him earlier."

"He's soakin' wet and hangin' half off the bed. And there's puke all over the floor. His face looked flushed, I think he caught a fever."

"It's from a spider bite," Ezra answered, slipping the key in the lock.

"How'd you know that?" Buck asked, following Ezra in to the room.

"He was bitten by a spider as we left Mexico."

"You knew he was sick?" Buck accused, "Why didn't you say something?"

"For one, he is not in short pants!" Ezra snapped, "Furthermore, he was in the doctor's presence this morning himself." He saw Buck's eyes darting as he tried to reply and he cut off the possibility and moved towards the bed. He eased Vin back on it, turned the lamp up and moved the towel and basin into the hall. Buck opened the window to let fresh air in the stagnant room which reeked.

"Vin?" Buck tapped the tracker's cheek and got no response. "You've been bathing it?" He lifted a bandaged hand and just that slight pressure caused the semi-conscious man to moan.

"Yes and keeping it clean. Beyond that, there isn't much else to do once the venom is dispersed," Ezra stated. "I checked on him this afternoon and also at dinner, he ate some soup and I changed that. He wasn't like this then , I can assure you."

Buck pulled the listless man upright and Vin's leg's flopped over and hit the floor. The head bobbed and popped up and a pair of glazed, glassy eyes stared straight ahead. He wasn't sure if Vin even knew they were there. "Hell, it's a wonder he ain't lost ten pounds sleepin' in this damn coat. Gimma a hand, Ez."

"Mister Tanner?" Ezra waved his hand in front of the bleary face and then moved in, holding on to Vin while Buck peeled the offensive coat off. But it was the color draining from Buck's face and the stunned look that appeared that caught the gambler off guard. "What's wrong?"

"Take a look," Buck said, supporting Vin from behind.

"Good Lord!" Ezra swore, eyeing the back of the blue shirt. The lower half was covered in blood from one hip to the other. He knelt in front of Vin whose eyes were closed again. He got the buttons undone and pulled the shirt from Vin's pants in the front.

"It's stuck," Buck announced. "It's dried, no way of tellin' how long it was dryin'. " He peered closer and saw a small hole on the shirt just over the left hip. "Tell me this ain't what I think it is."

"That would be a wager I wouldn't accept," Ezra confessed. "Let me try."

Buck held onto Vin front the front and Ezra worked the shirt in the back from the right side. He was able to get some of the crusted shirt free but when it hit the middle of the back, Vin's body jerked and his eyes shot open.

"..hell ya doin'..." he slurred, trying to push somebody from in front of him. His arms were not working right and seemed to heavy. He blinked up and saw a blurry pink face and a mustache. "...Buck..."

"You hard headed mule!" Buck swore, glaring at the woozy Texan. "Why didn't you tell us you got shot?"

"Shot!" Vin wheezed, his glassy eyes went wide and began darting around the room. "Aw, hell... where?" He was weaving badly trying to see his legs and arms.

"You didn't know?" Ezra asked.

"O'course I didn't know!" Vin objected. "That's a helluva question. Ya sure?"

"The back of your shirt is covered in dried blood and there is a telltale hole on one side." Ezra glanced at Buck. "There's a room at the end of the hall with a tub. The water should do the trick and help with this fever."

"...ain't gettin' a bath..." Vin objected, trying to stand. "Jest pull it off... dammit... the floor's movin'..."

"You hold him up and I'll get his pants off," Standish suggested. Once that was completed, they moved for the doorway.

"Look, Vin, you don't get a vote on this." Buck overruled, tossing Vin's arm over one shoulder while Ezra got the other.

"...hurts..." Vin slurred. "...stupid... thought I twisted it... when them Mexicans was... shootin' as us... at the mine..."

"Got him?" Ezra asked before letting go of VIn and opening the door to the bath. He quickly moved inside. "I'll get some hot water. We can mix it with the cold to create a tepid bath."

Buck eased Vin down onto a bench and leaned him back. He began pumping water into buckets and pouring them into the large tin tub. By the time Ezra got back, carrying two buckets of hot water he had the tub three quarters full.

"There's two more buckets downstairs." Ezra said. "Leave them in the hall and get either Nathan or Doctor Franklin."

Part Fifteen

Chris heard voices and forced his heavy eyes to open. He vaguely recalled Buck being with him but now the chair was empty. He saw a blurry man with graying hair waving at him. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, sighing hard at the nagging headache that the fever left him with. He saw someone waving at him and then his vision cleared.

"Sweet dreams, Chris," Josiah stated, leaving by the back door. It was closer to the outhouse.

"Josiah?"

"He was keeping you two company until I could return." The doctor unwrapped Wilson's bandaged leg as he answered Laraabee's raspy question.

"About time you woke up," Greg greeted. "I think the doctor's tired of hearin' my moans."

"Good to see you, Greg." Chris managed a weak but very sincere half-grin.

"Not half as good as it was for me to wake up this morning and see you there. I hoped your friends got to you in time but until I saw you..." He sighed hard and winced as the doctor poured something onto the leg wound. "Ow!"

"Hey," Chris caught the dark-haired man's eye. "Thanks... I'd have been dead at least twice if not for you."

"Funny thing," Greg smiled, "I was about to apologize for..."

"Apologize!" Chris's voice went up and he winced, the echo seemed to slam into his head. "For what?"

"They caught us... I could have... maybe should have... he hurt you more..."

"To quote Vin, 'coulda, woulda, shoulda, it's all bullshit'" Chris eyed the doctor who was now standing up and pulling the blanket up to Greg's waist. "He okay, doc?"

"Weak, and battling a fiesty fever like you are. But he'll be fine. As a matter of fact tomorrow morning you both graduate to real food. Good, solid food will help you get your strength back."

"Sounds good to me Doctor... uh..." Chris frowned and tried to remember the name Nathan told him. "Washington..." The grayhaired man smiled and shook his head.

"...uh... Adams..."

"No..." The doctor patted Greg's knee and handed him a cup. "Drink it all, you'll sleep right through."

"Thanks, Doctor Franklin," Greg answered.

"Franklin!" Chris exhaled, shaking his damp blond head. "I knew it was one of the big three."

"No relation," he spoke of Benjamin Franklin. "You're looking better." He walked to the bed and bent over, listening to the infirmed man's chest.

Buck crept quietly into the house, Nathan was sleeping on a cot in the front examination room which was empty. He heard voices and moved towards the large room where Greg and Chris were.

"...breaking up a bit. I'm going to rub some linament on your chest, it doesn't smell very good but it will break up the rest of that. The menthol soothes the lungs as well."

"Fine by me, I'm guessing you're putting the good shit in that mug and I won't smell it anyhow."

"You'd guess right," Doctor Franklin answered. "You're a lucky, man Mister Larabee. Those friends of yours are exceptional men."

"It's Chris, doc, Mister Larabee is my father. " He toasted with the mug and drained it. "And you're right, I'm one lucky bastard." He squinted and eyed the narrow slip of doorway he could see from where he sat. He could have sworn he saw somebody.

"Your fever is going down and as long as you continue to follow orders, drink all the fluids and sleep, you should have it beat by tomorrow. But you have a long recovery ahead. The wounds are deep and I don't want them to reinfect. When you leave here to go home, you have to rest and let yourself heal. Especially the burns, they are quite serious.":

"Believe me doc, I'm not plannin' on breakin' horses anytime soon," Chris yawned.

The doctor turned around to put his stethescope back in his bag and saw someone signal to him. He snapped his bag shut and turned back to Chris Larabee. Whoever it was didn't want him to hear.

"I want to get some balm for those burns. I need to redress them tonight. I'll be right back, it's in my examination room."

"I'll still be here," Chris teased, taking the mug of tea the doctor gave him.

WHen Doctor Franklin got into the hallway, he was greeted by a very concerned Buck Wilmington.

"Sorry to bother you, Doctor Franklin. We got a problem. Vin's sick, real sick. He's fevered and throwing up. It could be from a spider bite or a bullet."

"A bullet?" The doctor scowled. "I don't recall hearing any shooting in town."

"No... no... from Mexico. He didn't know he was shot." Buck moved his hand to his back. "It's down here somewhere, he thought he twisted his back dodging the bullets. He's got a spider bite on his hand and it's hurtin' him some."

"And you're right, it could be from either. Where is he now?"

"In the room across from ours, second floor of the hotel. There was a bathtub in there. Me and Ezra filled it with cool water and got him inside. The blood is all crusted up and the shirt won't come off him. We can't tell if it's still in there or not."

"A tepid bath will help the fever too." He eyed the light coming from the other room. "Give me a few moments to finish up with Chris. I take it you didn't wish him to know?"

"Not until we know how bad it is, no." Buck shook his head. "Chris had enough to worry on with his own injuries. If he knew Vin was down, well, he'd be more than a little cranky."

"If you can, move him to the closest bed, put him belly down. I'll come right over."

"Thanks, doc!"

"Problem?" Chris asked, his tongue was thick. The drug was working fast.

"Small I hope, a minor inconvience at the hotel. I'll attend to it when I'm finished here."

Chris was trying to figure out the voice he'd heard. Somehow he thought he should know who it was but his muddy brain wouldn't cooperate. The harder he tried, the more tired he got. By the time the doctor finished with all of his burns, he was already under.

Erza looked up when the Buck called out to the doctor. He and Wilmington had gotten Vin across the hall into their own room. As the doctor suggested, the tracker was belly down with the sheet resting just over his backside. The shirt had come off in the tub and much to his relief, there was a long graze that went almost the width of his lower back. But it was better than finding a hole and no bullet.

"It's a crease, I see," the doctor stated, eyeing the nasty line. "There is a lot of debris inside. I'll get as much as I can out, then clean it good and pack it with medicated lint. The dressing should be loose as this will ooze, it's infected.

"It sure stinks..." Buck agreed. "Jesus, that had to hurt. How'd he ride home?"

"He is after all, a Tanner," Ezra stated proudly. "I think the bath helped his fever. He is not as hot."

"It's one of the best things you could have done for him. Now he's clean, the body temperature is a little lower and he'll rest easier. "

"He suffered a spider bit as well," Ezra updated, lifting VIn's hand. "It was a brown desert spider and we've been cleaning it and keeping it covered. I'm not sure if his illness is due to this, the wound or both."

"It surprises folks when they get sick from a spider bite because they're so small. But their venom can be dangerous."

"Is there anything we can do?" Buck asked.

"You can make sure there is a good amount of water handy. He's likely to have a rough night. He'll be throwing up and possibly confused. He shouldn't be alone. Once the fever passes, he'll need to remain quiet and especially be careful of that hand. Those sores usually take their time healing and are very painful."

A half hour later, the doctor had removed a lot of pieces of cloth from Vin's back. He'd cleaned the wound out and then packed it. A loose bandage was resting over his back. Vin never stirred and the doctor left a bottle of rubbing alcohol. It was to be mixed with water and used to bathe the fever. Buck and Ezra decided to split shifts. Buck took Nathan's room since he wasn't using it. Ezra would wake him at dawn to relieve him.

"If his breathing becomes labored or the fever spikes, come and get me at once. Otherwise, I'll be back in the morning. Try to get water into him. Oh, in the morning I'll bring some peppermint bark tea, very good for bad stomachs. In the meantime, I'll leave these. If he's up to it, they'll soothe." He put a bag of small peppermint drops on the bedside. "He's not to leave this bed, make that understood. "

"Now there's an easy job," Buck teased, clapping the doctor's back. "I don't know what we'd have done if you weren't in town ."

"Oh, Mister Jackson would have managed, he's very skilled."

"I think we all can attest to that, we've required his services on more than one occasion." Ezra nodded to Buck. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You sure you can handle him alone? He can get ornery."

"So can I," Ezra retorted, eyeing his flushed-face charge, "I'll be fine."

Grovers Pass
Midmorning
Doctor Franklin's

Chris was surprised when he woke up to find bright morning sunlight streaming into the room. He sighed, yawned, coughed several times and winced, clutching his injured chest. He turned and spotting Greg resting, and saw an empty tray on the bedstand. Apparently, he'd slept through breakfast. His headache nagged at him but not at bad as it had been, his eyes no longer felt as if they were on fire. He heard humming and saw a woman peek into the room.

"Ah, you're up. I'm Mrs. Franklin. My husband is at the hotel treating a friend of yours . One of the men that brought you here."

"Friend?" Chris frowned, he'd asked about that. Hadn't Buck said they were all fine? "What happened?"

"Something to do with an infected bullet wound I believe. " She set a tray down before him which held biscuits, soft boiled eggs and hot oatmeal sprinkled with brown sugar. A pot of tea and some apple cider completed the breakfast. "He should be back soon. In the meantime, he left orders for you to eat."

"Thanks," Chris acknowledged. "For taking care or me and Greg. " She nodded and poured his tea, then turned away. He had a nagging feeling in his gut even before he asked. "Ma'am? Did your husband mention who was hurt?"

"Well, no. Buck was the young man who came to get him and he was very upset. I was in the kitchen and couldn't hear clearly, but it sounded like Tim or Jim."

"Hmm..." Chris frowned. "Vin?"

"Perhaps," she agreed, "If you want more, just ring that bell on the tray, so I can hear you upstairs."

"Thanks."

As Chris ate, his eye wandered to the hallway and he recalled the night before seeing someone there. The doctor left to take care of somebody at the hotel. How had Vin gotten wounded? He was determined to remain awake and question the doctor. After eating, he laid his head back on the pillow to rest his throbbing head.

While Chris was consuming his meal, his best friend was losing his painfully. Vin moaned and didn't have the strength to open his eyes. He was totally limp and only dimly aware of voices nearby. Whatever he'd been given to drink came back up violently. Now he was rolled to one side of a bed so the soggy sheets could be stripped. Somebody was supporting him and his head was hanging off the edge of the bed. The room seemed to be spinning around and his mouth felt like it was on fire. His tongue seemed too big and even talking wasn't working. His words came out slurred and distorted.

"Poor boy's sick as a dog," Josiah stated, holding onto the limp tracker. The heat that radiated off of Vin Tanner's skin worried him. "He's hotter than hell too."

"Well," Buck said, pouring more water into the tub. "The doc said to give him another bath. It can't hurt." He stood up and eyed the three-quarters full tub. "That outta do it."

"Vin?" Josiah tipped the fevered body back and tried to find the blue slits that were glassy. "Buck and me are gonna put you in a tub. You take it easy, we'll do the work."

Vin had been sick before and the most frustrating part for him was the inability to care for himself. He was not comfortable with strangers tending to his private needs. But at this point, he was too weak to even swipe the spit that ran off his chin. He felt like his skin was on fire and when the cool water hit his hot skin, it startled him. He bucked back weakly, fighting to get out.

"Easy there, slick," Buck soothed, eyeing the annoyed face. The blinking blue eyes couldn't focus and even the curses were garbled. "Holster that Tanner temper. You already puked on every shirt I got with me. "

"...t'fuckinbad..." Vin slurred, pushing a wet fist against the place he heard a chuckle.

"Calm down, Vin," Josiah ordered, shoving his hands against Vin's shoulders. He held the wiry tracker in place until the fight left him. "Just let the water work. Buck and me won't let you drown."

"...bet..."

"With what?" Buck teased. "You ain't got two nickels to rub together." He eyed the blue eyes slowly sinking fast. "Vin?"

"He's out again." Josiah assesed, using a mug to pour water on Vin's head.

"I hope this does it," Buck voiced his concern. "If he could just keep that medicine down and get some sleep."

Twenty minutes later, Vin was dry and lying under a light sheet on a clean bed. The air from the window was a welcome relief in the room. The bath had decreased his body heat and they both hoped this time it would return to normal. Josiah poured the medicine into a mug of cider just as the doctor suggested. He nodded to Buck who tapped the restless Texan's cheek.

"Vin? I got some cider for you," Buck addressed and the mouth opened on cue. "Attaboy..." He held Vin's head up for several minutes until he was sure the liquid was down.

"I got this," Josiah stated. "You check on Chris. JD was supposed to update Nathan at breakfast."

Chris felt a light touch and recognized the cool metal that touched his skin. He peeled an eye open and saw Doctor Franklin hovering over him. He waited until the physician completed his examination and then accepted a mug of cold water.

"You're improving considerably. Your fever is down and in a few more days with the proper food and rest, you may be able to be taken by wagon to your ranch. Your friend Buck said it's not very far."

"How's Vin?" Chris asked bluntly. "How'd he get shot?"

Doctor Franklin wasn't sure how the patient found out but that was beside the point now. He placed his tools back in his bag and sat on the chair next to the bed. He rubbed his eyes and let out a long sigh. The patient's very telling eyes said more than the tone of his voice. He'd been worried, very worried.

"He's battling a high fever and throwing up alot. He's rather out of sorts, he doesn't know where he is most of the time. It's not clear how he was wounded. He wasn't aware of it until your two friends discovered it last night. They seem to think it occured near the mine in Mexico when they were searching for you."

"How bad?"

"He's lucky, the bullet grazed him here," he updated, moving his arm across the bottom of his back. "A deep graze and it had gone a long time without being tended to. The infection that is making his so sick is either due to that or to a nasty spider bite on his hand. Spider venom can do a lot of damage."

"He's gonna be okay, isn't he?"

"He's a strong young man, and given a few days rest, he'll be fine," he tried to dissolve some of the concern that was lingering in the light eyes. "I'm going to get you a small bowl of chicken and dumplings. Eating small meals every few hours is an excellent way to build your strength back."

Chris was about to reply when he saw Buck's face appear over the doctor's shoulder in the hallway. His brows furrowed and he worked up a half-glare. "Buck, I want to talk to you!"

"Well, I'll leave you to rest. Your lunch will be a midsized tray of food. There will be an afternoon snack and a full tray at supper. Good solid food will help bring your stength back." The doctor skirted away and left the two friends to their privacy.

"Mornin', Stud," Buck greeted brightly, nodding to the retreating doctor as he approached the bed. Larabee was not happy. "I was just going to get cleaned up and eat."

"Don't you mean you were going to update me first?" Chris drilled.

"Well, now that was my first thought, but I'm not exactly dressed for a visit." Buck tapped his soiled shirt."And I wouldn't want the smell to upset you."

"You're full of shit, Buck!" Chris tossed back and eyed the smelly shirt. "Tanner puke?"

"Nobody hurls like that ratty-assed Texan," Buck moaned. "He's decorated every shirt I got."

"I know I was out of it last night, Buck, but why didn't somebody let me know this morning?"

"Look, Chris, there wasn't much to tell you before now. Hell, even Vin didn't know he was shot until we took that damned coat off of him and saw the blood. We just thought he was tired."

"The doc said he's not so good."

"He's pukin' up all over me, Josiah and the room. He's burnin' up but we keep puttin' him in the bath and that seems to help. He's finally sleepin' now. If he could just hold that medicine down and rest...." He paused to yawn and scrub a weary hand over his face.

"Sounds like good advice, you ought to take it."

"I'm okay," Buck hedged, "I'm gonna grab some food, a bath and a nap. Josiah's with him now. The doctor doesn't want him alone until he's through this, he wakes up confused."

"In case I didn't say so, thanks Bucko..."

"Oh, you'll get my bill," Buck teased, slapping the leg under the sheet playfully. "I'll tell you what, I can't wait to get home. I got a nice spot on the porch picked up just to soak up a sunset."

"I'll drink to that," Chris agreed, savoring the wistfulness in Buck's voice. Home was a place he'd never thought he'd find again. "The doc says in a few days we outta be okay to head home. " He paused then, his pale eyes going to the window. A light breeze took the curtains up and he caught a glimpse of the mountains. " I never thought that word would mean so much again, Buck."

"Yeah,' Buck agreed. "Sure does have a sweet sound."

Grovers Pass
The next morning

When Vin forced his heavy eyes open, he was greeted by a strange room. The early morning light that peeked at him shyly. He was lying on his belly in a bed. His brows knit in confusion. He didn't know this room or why he felt so sick. His mouth was hot and his body was slick with sweat. He tried to move and a pain lashed across his lower back.

"...Goddammit'hellfuckin'shitisgoin'on..."

"Good Morning, Mister Tanner," Standish greeted, moving from his chair to get the confused soul some water. It was a scene that had been replayed for the last day and a half. Vin would rouse and in a very cranky state, demand to know where he was and what happened.

Vin wiped his wet face and winced at the headached throbbing inside his skull. He had a damp pair of long johns on and nothing else. His burning eyes went around the strange room. The fact that Ezra was wearing a slick Standish grin didn't help.

"Where the hell is this? Where's m'clothes? Who stomped on m'head?" Vin demanded as Ezra leaned over him. "Quit grinnin' at me like some Goddamn Southern Fried Jackass!"

"Charming as usual," Ezra drolled of the cranky body, "We're in Grovers Pass, you were wounded and are suffering from a fever. But..." He put the mug down and assisted Vin in turning and sitting up on the side of the bed. "by the amount of sweat on the sheets and clinging to you, I would wager you've defeated the nasty beast."

"Huh?" Vin croaked, squinting at Ezra. He wiggled his fingers for the mug and drained it, then two more before burping loudly and dribbling. "I'm jest about starved... shakin' the hell all over."

"You've been very ill, your stomach will not hold itself. You've decorated most of us as well as two rooms."

"It ain't everybody that gets that pleasure," Vin replied, rubbing his hand. "Hurts like a bitch..."

"A spider bite, and unfortunately that will be a problem for some time yet. However, if you are up to it, a bath and some clothes await. I will advise the doctor and perhaps some bread and broth are in order."

"Ain't I the lucky bastard," Vin mumbled, slapping at Ezra's hand. "Quit pawin' me. Jest cause I'm half-nekkid don't give ya the right t'be gropin' and such."

"And such?" Ezra chuckled, "I can assure you that day will never dawn."

"I ain't goin' anywhere, Ez," he updated the concerned eyes. "But m'heads about t'fall the hell off. So if yer gonna tote water, ya best git movin'."

"Very well, I will see to the bath and send JD to update the doctor. In the meantime, do not leave this bed, understood?" He got a shaggy-headed nod and refilled the mug again before leaving.

Vin sipped the water but his body was not sated and he needed more. Also, the breeze coming into the hot room was near the window. He stood on wobbly legs and held onto the bedpost, then the bedstand and slowly made his way to the chair near the window. He more or less fell onto it, his legs gave out but he got there. He laid his head on the window sill and closed his eyes, biting his lip against the headache and back pain. But the cool air that sauntered over him felt wonderful. He heard a trio of familiar voices outside on the street just below his window. His ears perked up when Buck updated JD and Ezra regarding Gilbert.

"The Judge wired, he'll be here tomorrow." Buck pulled out the yellow paper and scanned it again. "He said the feds shut down that tent city but Gilbert got away."

"Damn!" JD vented, kicking the hitching post. "He outta pay for what he did to Chris and all those other men."

"He will JD," Buck predicted. "He won't get far, the feds will keep huntin' him."

"Unless he manages to get into Mexico. Undoubtedly he has money and investments there. He could hide out indefinately and when things cool down emerge again to rebuild somewhere else," Ezra imparted.

Like hell he will." Vin thought on Ezra's assumption.

They walked away then and he didn't hear the rest. He knew what he had to do now and once his mind was set to something, it was hard to break. He would spend today resting, eating and getting a little strength back . He raised his head and peered out of the window. He squinted against the pain the sunlight caused his headache and zoned in on the sheriff's office. A plan formed and he shuffled back to his bed, sitting down easy and resting sideways against the wall over the pillows. He was dozing when Buck shook him.

"Tub's waitin', Vin," Buck suggested and an arm came out. He ruffled the damp curling locks on Tanner's head and frowned when he was not cursed at or threatened with bodily harm. Vin seemed a bit quiet, even for him. But maybe he was just worn out. Buck got him in the tub and Josiah arrived with fresh clothes.

Vin held his thoughts to himself as Josiah helped to clean him and steady him as he got some loose fitting pants on. Due to the location of the wound, the doctor didn't want a shirt on him yet, to allow the gooey line to heal. He held onto that strong arm when the floor seemed to move as he shuffled to a room across the hall. He ate the soup and some fresh bread and downed all the tea. He didn't object once to taking more medicine and sleeping. He ate a light lunch, took more medicine and resumed his rest. This was also repeated at dinner, chicken and noodles with some tea. Buck kept up a one way conversation until Vin shuffled back to his bed. The doctor appeared and cleaned his back, then wrapped a bandage around it. Vin's eyes were shutting before the procedure was done. He was out cold when Buck and the doctor eased him onto his side in the bed.

When he woke up again, it was dark and JD was sleeping in the chair next to his bed. Vin eyed the tray which held leftovers from the kid's snack, cookies and cider. He ate them slowly, careful not to wake Dunne. Then he eased his body into a shirt and tossed his gunbelt over his shoulder, before grabbing his boots. He tiptoed into the hall, sat on the top step and got his boots on. It was a terrific effort and he had to bite his lip against the pain. It took him several minutes to recover and regain the ability to stand. He felt better, a bit weak but steadier on his feet. He made his way outside and across the street to the sheriff's office.

Delilah looked up when the sheriff appeared in the small space on the other side of the cell.

"You got a visitor."

"Cotton?" she hoped, he would come for her. She'd wired him the first day she'd been left in this dump.

"Ya drunk?" Vin drawled, peering at her through the bars. He saw a combination of fear and revulsion in her eyes. "He ain't comin' back fer ya, he's long gone." He pressed his face closer to the bars and used his hostility well. "And yer gonna tell me where he slithered ofta."

"Why should I?"

"Them fellas ya sent down to that rathole mine are jest waitin' t'talk t'the Judge t'morra. 'Tween that and the records we got from the mine office, it's enough t'stretch yer neck but good. " He saw her pale then and begin to tremble. "Ya don't owe that snake spit, he left ya holdin' the bag while he ran out. Ya tell the Judge what ya know and he might go easy on ya. Could be he'll give ya prison time instead."

She turned away from the intense blue eyes and studied the cracks on the plaster wall. He was right, she hated to admit it, but Gilbert hadn't come back for her.

"The feds took down that tent city and he wasn't there...." Vin prodded. "Where is he? Hell, ya don't owe him nuthin', not after what he done t'ya."

She thought on that and weighed his words. She didn't turn around to face him, she kept her eyes on the dark sky outside the barred windows.

"He has a friend with a large spread across the river, just outside El Paso. The double P is a big place run by Mitch Parker. Parker's got a lot of cash and spends it freely. He's tried talking Cotton into opening a place down there. Parker owes him a favor."

She sighed hard, shook her head and wondered how it all went so wrong. Maybe he could help her. She knew the men he rode with worked for the judge that was due to arrive. Mabye if he put in a word for her...

"Look, If you could just put a word in for me," she asked and turned around. "Damn..." she sighed hard, the room was already empty.

It was just after eleven p.m. Buck reluctantly left the saloon. He'd napped during the afternoon, had dinner with Vin and exited the drinkery when Sanchez arrived. He was on his way to the hotel to take a shift watching Vin when a famliar pair of boots and pants caught his eye under the silvery moonlight. He squinted and following the stretched out legs up to a long-haired profile wearing a slouch hat. He sighed hard, eyeing the window down the street at the hotel where JD was supposed to be watching Vin. Shaking his head, he made his way over to the bench where Tanner was slumbering. His hand was halfway to the blue-clothed shoulder to rouse the Texan when his boot hit a loose board. The inert body sprung to life and the mare's leg was whipped out.

"Whoa, son, it's only me," Buck stated, ducking behing the edge of the General Store. He could see from the dim light coming from the street lamp that Vin's face was riddled in confusion. The gun hand was trained on the spot where he'd been standing but the normally keen eyes were unsure and darting to the unfamiliar street.

"Grovers Pass, you got shot, remember?" Buck tried and waited until the gun was lowered. "You're sick, you're not supposed to be wanderin' around out here."

"I was waitin'," Vin retorted, still not sure how he got there. He wasn't close to the hotel. He remembered eating dinner in his room and then nothing. He craned his neck and saw the doctor's house across the street. Was that why he was here?

"Waitin'?" Buck repeated, hoping the muddled features would ease up. "Waitin' for what?" Vin didn't reply at first, his brow furrowed and his eyes slid to one side as if thinking hard.

"Dammit!" VIn swore, kicking the dirt under his boot. "Can't remember shit when I wake up."

"The doctor said you'd be confused," Buck tried to placate. "Look, whatever it is, it'll come back to you." He saw Vin's eyes zone in on the house where Chris was and got an idea. "Were you waitin' to go see Chris?"

"Could be waitin' fer the president to come wanderin' the hell up the street..." Vin's voice trailed off in annoyance.

"Chris is probably asleep ." Buck read the intentions. "Tell you what. You get back to bed and tomorrow I'll get you over there and you can have breakfast with him."

"Reckon," Vin agreed, holding onto the arms of the chair and rising. The pain that slashed his back caused him to cry out. The street tipped a bit and the next thing he knew he was on his knees looking at Buck's boots. "Shut up, Buck."

"I didn't say anything!" Buck chuckled, hoisting Vin upright and pulling an arm over his shoulder.

"Ya was thinkin', it..." Vin accused. "The doc's place is closer. M'legs won't stretch t' that hotel. He's got a bed up front right?"

"Yeah," Buck agreed. He lead the staggering body across the street, up the walkway and into the house. Quietly, he then proceeded to the spare room. Nathan was up and the bed was empty. While Vin grabbed the bureau at the edge of the bed, Buck got his gunbelt off. He helped Vin with the shirt and once the tracker sat on the bed, he got the boots off.

"Bucklin?" Vin rasped, peeking up at the rogue. "Free rub?"

Buck laughed and accepted Vin's thank you, and did ruffle the wet hair. Giving Vin's shoulder a pat and not missing the pain radiating from the silent man's eyes, he exited. He saw the tall healer dressing Chris's wounds and caught his eye. He nodded once and went back to Vin's side.

Vin was dozing when he felt someone pulling at him. Annoyed, he pulled away and shoved against something muscular which did not move. Two strong hands forced him back down onto the bed.

"Buck, ya pull at me again and I'm gonna twist yer balls inta a knot!"

"Yuh best hush that Tanner mouth right now! I ain't got Buck's patience and I'm not in my best mood."

It was then that Vin noticed the hands pulling at him were dark-skinned. "Aw, hell..."

"Evenin' Vin," Nate issued sarcastically, resting a hand on the Texan's cheek. "Yuhr warm. Yuh know better than t'leave a bed when ya got a fever. Let alone wanderin' through half of Mexico with venom in ya. Yuh ain't got the sense God gave most hitchin' posts."

"M'heads spinnin' already, don't need a lecture." He would have argued more but just concentrating on getting his limbs to work too all his energy. He knew Nathan was upset so he didn't argue when the tall healer began to examine his back.

Vin knew Nathan was mad, he didn't say anything at first. So the Texan bit his lip and endured the bandages wrapped around his lower back were being changed. The doctor had put them on just before supper but the weeping wound left a gooey mess on the cotton. Vin flinched when he saw Nathan put something on the bandage. He knew whatever it was, once it hit his back it would hurt.

Buck saw it too and moved next to Vin, clamping down on his shoulders. He winced right along with the smaller when when Jackson' wrapped the medicine doused bandages around his waist. Vin balled his good hand into a fist and his eyes closed. A single hiss escaped his lips but Buck saw Vin blinking rapidly to hold back the moisture the pain caused to form in his eyes. He kept his hands in place until Vin's hitching breath evened out and the shaggy head dipped once.

Vin was vaguely aware of a mug being thrust at him and he took it, draining the cold apple cider.

"Yuh keep yer ass in that bed," Nate warned, shoving the swaying Tanner. He was about to scold his newest charge again but the body slumped against his chest.

"Out cold," Buck predicted, lifting Vin's legs onto the bed. "Sorry about that, Nate."

"That's okay," Nate answered, easing Vin onto his belly on the bed and pulled the quilt up. He rested his hand on Vin's check and frowned. He hoped the fever wouldn't return. "I'm savin' them words fuhr when his eyes can focus, then he'll get it both barrels." Frowning, he moved two large basins next to where Vin was curled up and made a mental note to get extra towels. Something told him it would be a long night.

"How's Chris?" Buck asked, when they ducked out of the room.

"Better. He's holdin' down his food, the fever's gone and he'll sleep better. He's got a long way t'go until he's healed but he's got a good start."

"Doc said in a few days, we outta be able to haul him to the ranch in a wagon. I think he'll do better there."

"Yup," Nate agreed. "I just finished changin' Greg's bandages. I'll finish up in there and I'll keep an eye on Vin." He paused, letting Buck slip past him into the hallway. "How he'd get loose?"

"How do you think?" Buck charged.

"JD was on duty?" Nate shook his head. "Josiah was headed over t'the saloon, why don't ya keep him company?"

"Okay, I'll be back later," Buck agreed, slipping outside into the night.

Chris looked up when Nathan returned. He added Buck's voice to the ire scored nicely on Nathan's face. One image came to mind.

"Vin trouble?"

"He got loose. Buck found him sleepin' on a chair by the store across the street. I guess he was headin' this way." Nate put honey on the butter he'd already spread on two large pieces of cornbread. He poured some spiked tea and put the tray over Larabee's lap. "He's sleepin' on the cot up front. He knows better than t'run around this close t'bustin' a fever. I hope it don't spike overnight."

"Nathan?" Greg waited for a pause in the conversation. He was fighting hard to stay awake. He waited for the tall man to turn towards him. "You didn't happen to pass the Post Office, did you?"

"Not tonight, it's been closed for hours. But I'll make sure Josiah checks in the morning. He's gotta wire home."

"Thanks."

"I'm gonna take some more towels t'Vin's room just in case," Nate stated, nodding to Chris's tray. "Eat all o'that. The more ya eat, the stronger ya'll get."

Chris had a mouthful of cake but nodded, tipping his tea mug in accordance. When he swallowed the tea, he followed Greg's eyes towards the window. The wistful look in those eyes had him wondering.

"You wired your family?"

"James... my brother. I asked the doctor to send word yesterday. I was afraid to address it to my father." His shoulders slumped in defeat and he raked a shaky hand through his longish hair. "God, Chris, I hope it's not too late."

"It's never too late, Greg," Chris answered hopefully trying to dispell the sorrow in the voice. He knew the anguish on the younger man's face was genuine. "You heal up and ride home to that spread in Virginia. You got family, it's worth it." He waited for the lost eyes to find his. "They'll be waiting with open arms, Greg, trust me."

"I hope so, Chris, I was such a fool."

"Water under the bridge," Chris dispelled, "I've been to Virginia, it's pretty country."

"It's good horse country," Greg agreed and his mind lingered on an old dream shared by him and his brother when they were much younger. "Maybe me and James could raise and sell them. We used to talk about that..."

"Sounds like a plan," Chris toasted. "Get some sleep."

"Yeah..." Greg answered, yawning and resting his aching head. He felt the sandman hovering nearby and forced his heavy eyes open. "Hey, Chris? Thanks..."

'That's what friends are for, right?" Chris grinned and got a sleepy half-grin in return.

He watched Greg drift to sleep and hoped the answer would come. When you come that close to death, it can change you. He had a strong feeling Greg was ready to change and do right by himself and his family. He lingered on those thoughts as he drifted to sleep, with visions of the Hope Ranch to keep him warm.

Part Sixteen

The scent of maple syrup lured the injured blond gunslinger from his sleep. Painfully, Chris shifted in the bed, pulled his eyes open and stretched, cursing at the stiff joints and pain that erupted from every inch of him. There was a footed tray of food on his lap and his empty stomach growled at the pancakes dripping with butter and syrup, some bacon and biscuits and a pile of scrambled eggs. He was about to reach for a mug of juice when he noticed a dent in the pancakes. Just then a hand reached over with a fork still dripping syrup. He slapped at the hand and the fork clattered to a untimely end on his plate.

"Stealing can get you shot."

"Weren't stealin'," Vin returned, using his fingers to snatch up a buscuit and two pieces of bacon. He broke the biscuit and bacon, tucking it inside to make a small sandwich. "It was gettin' cold. God don't like wastefulness."

"Wastefulness" Chris screwed his face up, sipping his juice. "You're hanging around Ezra too long." He saw the hand snaking over and intercepted it verbally. "That thievin' hand of yours hits my plate again Tanner and I'll break it."

"Yer a cranky bastard, ya know that?" Vin shot back, eyeing the mug of juice. "Sure am thirsty... most likely from m'fever..."

"Get your own, kitchen's in the back," Chris moved his arms protectively around his plate. He speared some pancakes and relished the flavor.

"I ain't sure m'legs can make it that far," Vin replied, using a 'weak' voice. "Me bein' jest off m'deathbed and all."

"They made it this far, I'm sure they can go the distance," Chris retorted, turning to face the Texan and arching a single golden brow. "Deathbed?" Before the lanky tracker could reply another body entered the room. It gave the blond cause to have his eyes light up with mirth. "Your ass is cooked now, cowboy."

"Mornin' Nate," Vin greeted, eyeing the tray the healer held. "That fer me? I'm jest about starved."

"Didn't I tell ya t'stay put?" Nate objected, setting the tray down. "I doused ya durnin' the night and ya didn't know where ya were."

"I'm fine," Vin decided, trying to get to the plate which was covered with a towel.

"A minute ago you were on your deathbed," Chris challenged.

"That was different." Vin pouted, eyeing the food. "Besides, that nice lady left it settin' right out there. If ya weren't snorin' so bad, ye'd have heard her. I was jest doin' the right thing, savin' her hard work."

"Saint Vin," Chris sent back, 'It does have a nice ring to it."

Vin's face recoiled in horror when a plate of oatmeal was revealed. "What the fuck is that shit? I want real food."

"Look, I had me a night, chasin' Tanner puke, so yer gonna eat this and be happy with it." Nathan glared shoving the plate and mug towards him. "Now yer gonna eat all it and chase it down with that willowbark tea, understood?"

Vin opened his mouth to protest but changed his mind. Nathan was not in a good mood and the best thing to do was to avoid a fight. Besides, he was right to a degree. Vin didn't remember much about the night but flashes of throwing up and Nathan cursing came back. He nodded mutely and Jackson left the room.

"I've seen pregnant women with more fire," Chris accused, eyeing Tanner's crotch. "Seems your boys shriveled up and died on you."

"Shut up and gimme some!" Vin laughed, taking an uneaten half of a pancake and rolling it up before devouring it.

"You heave, you leave," Chris warned, then gave Vin a good hard look. His color wasn't good and his usual deep tan was waning. He knew by the pinched features and the way he was cradling his hand, it was really bothering him. The fact that Vin was not sitting upright, rather he was hunched forward bespoke the back injury. But half a Tanner was the best medicine he could have sought. "How you fairin', Vin?"

"A little banged up," Vin admitted, holding up his hand. "Fuckin' spider bite hurts like hell. Go figure."

"Never had that pleasure," Chris answered and furrowed his brows. "Of course if you had told Nathan or the doctor about it..."

"Enough, Pa!" Vin retorted, holding up his hand as a shield.

Chris knew something else was being harbored in the sky eyes. It was more than exhaustion or physical pain. An ordeal like the one his friend has undergone can tear a man up inside. "Listen Vin, I don't know all of what happened but I know you went through hell. I'm sorry about that." He paused then, thinking on the long days in the mine and that voice he'd sought for his sole source of strength. "I heard your voice, Vin. When I couldn't go on, when I was whipped, you got me through the worst of it."

Vin didn't speak for several minutes. He cradled his injured hand in his good one and hunched forward even further, leaning his elbows on his thighs. He digested the words slowly, savoring the warmth as it spread inside. The fact he'd come so close to losing Chris was still painful to think about. But that he had become Larabee's beacon in the darkness was a powerful feeling, one that still awed him a bit. His eyes darted back and forth and he shifted on the stiff chair. He sighed hard, lowered his face and rubbed his throbbing eyes.

"I'm a pretty good listener." Chris saw the struggle and knew Vin needed to get something out, something that was festering. When the raspy voice came, it was etched deeply in a pain from far inside. It caused Chris's own gut to tense up.

"When ya went missin', we went huntin'. We split up... hittin' the river and towns nearby. Me and Ez found yer horse, he went t' git the others. Then Bucklin come..." Vin's voice cracked solidly and faltered then; he had to regroup. He exhaled hard, shook his head and bit his lip. "He didn't say a word... I ain't never gonna ferget that look on his face. Fuck..." He dropped his head down low and tried to compose himself.

Now it was Chris's turn to swallow hard. All the pain he suffered through seemed to pale compared to what he saw reflected in Vin's eyes. He knew how hard it had to be for Buck to bear that news . But he couldn't imagine how Vin must have felt. He didn't say anything, he reached over and gave the back of Vin's neck a solid tug. He looked up to see Buck standing in the doorway, his dark blue eyes riddled with guilt. Chris nodded to enter and the mustached man did so, moving to Vin's side and gently rubbing Vin's back.

"Josiah and me... well... we found you... a body... in the water." Buck choked, still unable to rinse his mouth of that awful bitter taste. "Same height, weight, coloring... no face... blown off. Christ... I hope I never have to do that again."

"I'm sorry, Buck," Chris managed, wishing he had a drink. He pulled his hand back and Vin's head came back up. The tracker was shaken to his roots.

"I thought it was you." Buck rasped painfully, pulling out the glass coin. "I found this on him. I knew you'd never have parted with it. I told them it was you, if Vin hadn't doubted me... we might never have found you... shit... shit..."

"Cut that out!" Vin snarled, rising up and grabbing onto Buck when his back sassed him. "It wasn't nuthin' ya done that sent me huntin'. I saw that body at the ranch, I held that bloated black hand. I got nuthin' inside, in here." He tapped his gut. " I knew it wasn't him. I went t'the mountains t'talk t'Gray Eagle. His message confused me at first but he wanted me t'start at the beginnin'. So I come back here and that's how the hunt came up." He held Buck's gaze a moment and saw something there that needed to be recognized. He moved his arm then, clasping Buck's in a brotherhood grip, "Yer a helluva friend, don't know none better."

"Thanks, Vin," Buck found a small smile. He knew that grip was reserved for Larabee alone and treasured it. He eased Vin back down and ruffled his hair. "You best sit down, Nathan'll skin you alive if you fall and bust somethin.'"

"Ya leave m'hair alone, ya got an unnatural attraction t'it." Vin accused and gifted the large man with a playful grin.

For the next ten minutes Chris ate his meal and also devoured the story as Buck and Vin told it. It hurt like hell to hear the pain in their voices. He was humbled by the efforts they all had gone through. It seemed to him that when they got home and were healed, a party was in order. Sometimes, you take friendship for granted and it's too late when someone dies.

"Seems to me you all went above and beyond," Chris finally spoke in a close voice.

"Hell, it we was only protectin' ourselves," Vin answered, draining the last of his willow bark tea. The oatmeal was already gone. "Ain't nobody else fool enough t'wear all them scary rags in yer closet."

Buck and Chris chuckled and Wilmington helped Vin to his feet. Between the back and the medicated tea, he was already sluggish and unsteady.

Vin paused at Chris's bedside and both arms went out at the same time. He held onto that forearm for a long and lingering moment, conveying everything his heart was painting inside. Larabee's lips turned up and the light in the green eyes gave him his reply. The blond head dipped once and that was all he needed.

Buck got Vin back to his room before the drugged tea took effect. When he returned, he poured each of them a mug of coffee and doused it with a shot of whiskey.

Chris sipped the coffee and relished the flavor. He examined the glass coin and drank in the tiny features of Adam under the glass. It was his most treasured possession and there was only one place he'd trust it to. He reached over and Buck's hand came out. He laid it in Buck's palm.

"Seems I'm out of pockets at the moment." He noted of his naked state. "You hold onto it for me, okay?"

Buck didn't trust his voice and nodded, tucking the coin in his breast pocket. They sat in compatible silence for awhile, drawing off each other's strength. A vivid memory came back of a glorious spring day when Adam was about four. He'd watched the vivacious child for Chris and Sara when they attended the wedding of a neighbor. That boy's laughter could bring a smile quicker than anybody. He recalled wrestling with the dark-haired boy and tickling him in the sweet grass next to the house and the giggles raining down on him like a colorful shower. He was an easy child to love because he was surrounded by it. Buck swiped his damp eyes and lifted his head then, turning to his blond friend.

"You know, that boy looked just like me," he complimented of Adam Larabee. " Could be with the right trainin', he could have been just like Uncle Buck."

"I don't think the world is ready yet," Chris grinned, studying the emotions playing on Buck's face. He knew how much Buck loved his boy and that loved was equaled in return.

"The ladies would have loved it!" Buck toasted, tapping Chris's mug with his own. The smile that came back at him was so full of warmth and brotherhood, it smothered him. Sometimes life was good.

Vin woke up gasping, his heart was racing. He wasn't sure what had him so alarmed. He took several deep breaths and tried to make sense of the fleeting images of his disturbing dream. Flashes of the Texas border and snakes crawling into holes were all he could recall. He sat up and eyed the room and it took him a few moments to realize where he was. He eyed the pitcher nearby and managed to stand, walk over and douse his face with water. As he dried off, the doctor's wife came into the room.

"Well, you had a fine nap, how do you feel?"

"M'fine, thanks Ma'am," Vin offered, drying his face with a clean cotton towel. "I hope I didn't bother ya."

"No bother at all. Nathan is making a croup tent for your friend Chris. He feels that it will clear up that lingering congestion. But it's nice outside, why don't you settle on the porch and I'll bring you something to eat?"

"Please don't go t'no trouble fer me," Vin stated and the kind woman's hand came up and touched his cheek.

"Trouble? You're already too thin. Now, I won't hear another word. I have some chicken and dumplings I can heat up and some fresh cornbread."

"Thanks," Vin answered, shuffling to the porch. "Sure is quiet."

"Well, you were sleeping so sound, you didn't hear the others. It's almost four. They left a couple hours ago Something about trouble in a few of the surrounding towns ."

"Yeah, that's what we're paid t'do," Vin agreed. "Nathan musta doused me good, I woulda rode with 'em."

"You needed the rest, you're still recovering." She saw a hint of anger appearing and the frustration setting in. "That's alright, son. " She pointed to a large white wicker chair on the porch. "Now you just sit here and enjoy the air."

Vin nodded and waited until she left. He knew there had to be an outhouse around back. He shuffled back and took care of business. He was troubled by his dreams Even moreso, by the fact he couldn't remember what was so important the night before that got him to the street. A nagging tug in his gut told him he had to remember why he left the hotel. He settled into the wicker chair and creased his brow in frustration. The harder he tried, the more his headache flared. The food was good and he ate slowly, digesting it carefully. As he lingered over the remaining coffee, he saw the sheriff pass by. His eyes caught the glare of the sun on the star on the lawman's chest and he cocked his head. For a moment, it sounded like a bunch of bees were buzzing inside his skull. Then, it all came back to him in a rush that left him breathless.

"Shit!" He cursed of his memory loss.

He was waiting the night before to tell whichever of his friends that came by first about the Parker Ranch. His legs carried him to that bench and would go no further. Now, aside from Nathan, they were probably home. He made his way back inside but from the hall, he could see a tent around Chris's bed and Nathan busy at work. Frowning, he decided to get his horse ready, then he'd check back. He stopped long enough to get his coat and his gun. Vin knew this area and remembered that the stage depot was on the way to El Paso. He could wire home from there and save several hours. They could take a shortcut through the canyon and meet him before he crossed the river after sundown. That made sense to him. He didn't want to waste anymore time. He went back to the hotel but Nathan was supporting Chris and from the cries of pain, it was a difficult manuever. He didn't know how long it would take and spotted the doctor's wife in the garden.

"Ma'am?" He waited for her to turn. "I can't bother Nathan, tell him I got a lead on Gilbert and I'm gonna let the others know, okay?"

"On a horse?" She fretted, "I'm sure I heard the doctor say you shouldn't be on one yet."

"I'll be careful," Vin promised, turning back towards the livery.

Grovers Pass

JD met the Judge and his assistant in the hotel and updated them. He had the other men waiting in the dining area for the statements to be given. He handed over the prison documents and went to update Buck. He was crossing the street when he saw Vin ride out of town.

"VIN! HEY VIN!" He called out but the tracker kept going.

He knew Vin wasn't headed home but didn't know where he was going. He wondered what could be wrong, since he knew Vin wasn't supposed to be on a horse just yet. So he raced to the saloon. He was so intent on getting to Buck, he wasn't watching where he was going.

"Dammit, kid," Buck lamented, easing a pretty barmaid off his lap and helping another one off the floor. "You ran right into her."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," JD flustered as his face turned a lovely shade of red.

"Ma'am!" she retorted, picking up the broken glass. "Honey, you'll be very sorry if you call me 'Ma'am' again."

"Sorry Ma... uh... Miss..." he corrected.

"What's got your drawers on fire?" Buck inquired, helping JD to his feet. "Things go okay with the Judge?"

"Huh? Yeah, fine. Vin's gone. I was coming over here and saw him ride out. Buck, he's heading all wrong and he..."

"Hold up!" Buck held his hand up and went outside. He eyed the street and pointed south. "He went that way?"

JD scowled. "Nathan said he could get confused. That's not going home. Where was he going? What if he forget we already have Chris?"

"No... that ain't it," Buck mused, thinking on Vin's odd outing the night before. "Waitin'" he murmured, thinking on Vin's odd reply. He turned his head slowly, eyeing all the buildings on the side of the street from where he'd found Vin. "Bingo."

"Huh?" JD's shorter legs worked overtime keeping up with Buck.

"He went fishin'," Buck declared, entering the sheriff's office. "Afternoon, sheriff. Did that she-devil get any visitors last night?"

"Yeah, a young feller you rode in with, the one with long hair. He didn't stay long."

"Stay here," Buck directed to Dunne, striding to the back of the room where the cells where. She looked up when he came close and he didn't waste anytime. "What did Vin want last night?"

"What's in it for me?"

"How about I let you live?" Buck's tongue dripped with disgust. "The Judge is here and he's a friend of mine . So you best choose your words real carefully, or I'll tell him a few things that could make the decision to stretch that neck or yours."

"El Paso. He wanted to know where Cotton would have gone. Cotton's got a friend Parker who runs a big spread outside El Paso. " She cursed when the tall man spun and left. "That's it, from now on I keep my mouth shut."

"Buck?" JD ran to catch up with Buck who was already headed for his horse. He heard Buck cursing and caught his arm. "What's wrong? Where did Vin go?"

"Damn fool's gonna get himself killed. He's out huntin' Gilbert on his own. You ride like hell and catch Josiah and Ezra. If you take Cricket Pass, you'll catch him before the hit the canyon. Tell them Vin's headed to El Paso. That bitch tipped him off that Gilbert's holed up there on his friend's ranch. A guy named Parker. Go on now... I'm gonna catch Vin."

"What about Chris?"

Buck blew out a long air and eyed the doctor's house. " After Nathan's done with him, The Judge will be with him until supper. The doctor will be dousing him after... we let it go for now. But if I can't get Nate, I will let Robert know." Robert Bates was the Judge's assistant and was in the lobby of the hotel interviewing the other men who had come back with them.

Vin had to stop an hour later, which was not what he intended. The intense heat and the ride were much harder than he'd planned. He was dizzy and his back throbbed without mercy. Sitting up was hard and the sun seemed to be burning into his skull. He had to ride slower and it was difficult holding the reins with the injured hand; he was hampered. He slid off the horse and sat on a group of rocks near the water. He slowly drained his canteen and then headed for the water. He knelt down by the creek and doused his kerchief, soaking his face and neck. Twice more he saturated his skin and then saw an angry reflection rippling in the water.

"BUCK!"

"You know I have seen stupid in my day and you take that prize," Buck growled, waiting for Vin to turn and face him. "What the hell's wrong with you? You can't hardly sit up let alone ride into Texas."

"Mrs... Mrs... that doctor's wife... she said all o'ya left. Nate was busy and I figgered I could wire from the stage depot."

"Me and the kid were waitin' on the Judge to update him. Josiah was gonna wire us from town if we were needed. I guess she didn't know that." He gave Vin the benefit of the doubt, since he knew the shock in the younger man's voice was true. Buck noticed that Vin was holding his injured hand to his chest and biting his lip. He also noticed how pale he was. "JD saw you leave and came and got me. Vin, why didn't you tell anybody you had information on Parker?"

"I tried!" VIn snapped, rising too fast and staggering. He shoved off Buck's arm and nearly toppled. "I was waitin' on ya last night. I barely got down the street from that jail and collapsed on the bench."

"That's what you meant by 'waitin'. You forgot when you woke up." Vin seemed to sense what would come next.

"How long til they git here?"

The words came out quiet and the raspy voice was full of pain. He didn't miss the longing of the blue eyes as they lingered on the tree nearby.

"JD's takin' a shortcut, he'll get them back here in a few hours. Go on, we'll make camp here and ride out when the sun goes down."

Vin attempted to walk towards that shady tree and stumbled. Buck's arm latched out and he held on for a moment and then made his way to the tree. He took his coat off and folded it, making a pillow. He took two long swigs of the cold water and very gingerly eased his injured back down. He was dozing off when he heard Buck approach. A cold cloth was gently applied to his scorched face.

"Ya know there ain't many."

"Ain't many what?" Buck's brows knit in confusion. He withdrew the damp kerchief and wrapped it around his own hot skin.

"Ain't many who can claim they rode with a genuine Texas mule."

"The rare, long-haired, blue-eyed drawler," Buck chortled, shoving Vin's hat over his eyes. "I swear between you and JD I'll be bald before Christmas, " he lamented, eyeing the dozing Texan.

Grovers Pass
Nine p.m.

Chris was happy for Greg. He could see by the younger man's body language and disposition that the good news from his brother had been the best kind of medicine. He gifted his friend with a soft smile when the yellow wire resting in his hands was read again.

"Father fine. Please come home. Love James."

"Seems like the sun just went up for you," Chris complimented.

"And how," Greg answered. "Nathan thinks in a couple more days, I can leave. Three days to Denver, then I can get a train to Washington and it's a day's ride south. " He paused to reflect, "Sunday supper with the family... God I never thought that would mean so much."

"Coming so close to death changes a man," Chris agreed. "I'm happy for you Greg. Not many men get a second chance."

"I know that, now, Chris and I won't waste this gift from God." His handsome face broke into a soft smile then. "I want it all, Chris. A fine woman to share my name, a family and a real future."

"Doesn't get much brighter than that!" CHris agreed, "I'm really happy for you, Greg. I got a feeling you're gonna catch that rainbow, too."

"I sure hope so." He yawned, drained the last of his medicine and carefully folded the wire, setting it on his nightstand. "Goodniight."

"Goodnight, Greg."

Chris wanted to sleep but he was worried. Nathan brought Greg's wire a couple hours ago and updated him on what Robert told him about the flight from town. He hoped Buck caught Vin in time. Even with JD and the others catching up to them, it was a longshot. What if Parker's ranch was heavily guarded? What if his friends didn't come back? As badly as he wanted Gilbert to pay for his crimes, not at the expense of their lives. How could he go on if even one of them died? He sighed hard, shifting his aching body and stared at the black sky outside the window.

"Yuhr still up?"

"It's gonna be a long night, Nate," Chris warned, taking the hot coffee offered.

"Yuh sound better, how's that chest feel?" He settled in on the chair next to Larabee and stretched his long legs out. His own mug of coffee warming his hands.

"Good. Sorry if I bitched at you."

"That's okay," Nate laughed. "Yuh ain't half as bad as Vin. That boy curses in three languages at the same time." He saw the pale eyes flick with fear and felt that same fear tug at his own gut. "I wish I was with 'em."

"Thanks for that," Chris answered, sipping on the good brew. He grunted and shook his blond head. "I must be getting old. I never used to worry about shit."

"Sure sign," Nate chuckled, taking a drink of his coffee and yawning. "Sorry..."

"For what?" Chris reflected, eyeing the exhaustion on Jackson's face. "When we get back to the ranch, you outta take a few days and visit Rain."

"It's on m'list!" Nate nodded. He walked over to dim the light so Greg could sleep better and found himself wondering about the others. Like Chris, he was worried about the odds and of dodging bullets in the dark.

Parker Ranch
Ten p.m.

Mitch Parker liked to live large. No expense was spared on the ranch he'd built or furnishings within. Only the very best would do. He hired the best hands and bought the best breeding stock. At forty, he was surpassing the goals he'd set for himself. His next goal was to find the right woman who could bear him several sons. He had his eye on two local young women. Both had come from large families and that was a good sign for him. He turned to his current houseguest.

"More brandy, Cotton?"

"No," Gilbert declined under a hood of blue cigar smoke. "I'm afraid that dinner was too good. I'm falling asleep."

"Well, it should be a quiet night. Most of the hands are in town celebrating the sale of the herd. Those cattle will bring top dollar at the auction in New York. I guess we can discuss your future enterprises tomorrow."

The two friends enjoyed their cigars and brandy, unaware they were being watched. The five peacekeepers rode in El Paso and Josiah and Buck entered the saloon. They shared a beer and drank in the conversations around them. Buck engaged the local barmaid and found out the reason the bar was so crowded was the the Parker boys were in town celebrating. That was all they needed to hear. Buck managed to coerce her into telling him where the spread was located.

Now they knew the ranch had a skeleton crew on and the house was most likely lightly guarded. Vin used his eyeglass and the lanterns strung around the sprawling ranch house gave them the headcount they needed. Two men were guarding the back of the house and four more in front, two of them were on the roof. The bunkhouse was not located near the main building so that was not a problem.

Josiah, JD and Ezra were on the east side of the house, Vin and Buck on the other. Ezra was the only one who could identify Gilbert so he was approaching the French doors through which the figures of two men could be seen. He waited almost ten minutes and then returned.

"It's him, he's just retired for the evening. If we wait a moment, we'll see what room he's in."

"How can we be sure it's his room?" JD asked.

"Parker just poured himself a full snifter of brandy and is seated at a desk with a ledger in front of him. He has business to attend to,' Standish replied.

"Good, we go in, we get Gilbert and we leave." Josiah eyed the path to the other side. 'JD, you go update Vin. See how he wants to play this."

JD crept around the house and paused when he spotted Buck. Vin was seated on the ground, rocking and cradling his left hand. He eyed Buck who motioned for him to come forward.

"What's up?" Buck said.

"Gilbert's heading to bed, Ezra says we outta watch for what light goes on. The other guy is still in the study doing his ledgers."

"Alright," Vin sighed hard. He felt like shit and longed for his bed at the ranch. Once this mess was over, he intended to hibernate in it for a week. "Me and Buck'll grab Gilbert and head out the back road. The rest of ya keep an eye out, them two patrol every fifteen minutes. I wanna be gone before they get a whiff of us. We'll meet back at that burnt out tree across the Rio." The shallow part of the river was where he'd lead them to cross over.

"Shhh!" Buck put his fingers on his lips as the two guards on the roof of the ranch house walked past with their rifles drawn. Buck shoved JD to get back to the others and then he and Vin skirted the back porch. A light went on in the corner room and the window opened to allow the night breeze to enter ther room The fluttering curtains on the open window provided easy entry.

Gilbert had taken his jacket, vest and shirt off. He'd just sat down on the bed to remove his boots when a knife appeared in front of his eyes. His head shot up and hit something hard. The reflection in the mirror revealed a wild-eyed long haired man.

"Who..."

"Ya say one more word and I'll slit yer throat!" Vin warned. Gilbert's head hit his eye hard and he felt the telltale pain the preceeded swelling. "Git up and git yer ass out that winda."

"You can't just..."

Vin's hand moved quickly, slicing a neat line across Gilbert's chest. He moved the bloody knife upwards and his eyes shone with intent. The other man nodded, rose and walked to the window.

"Don't make me lose my temper," Buck warned when the body slipped through. He tied a gag on the criminal's mouth and quickly tied Gilbert's hands . He then shoved him forward.

Buck got Gilbert on the front of his horse and climbed up behind him. He waited for Vin and then they rode for the desert area that led to the main road. In an hour they would be across the river and out of Texas.

Vin kept looking behind him, he gut warned him that it was going too well. Sure enough one of the guards on the roof stopped to urinate and spotted them riding off.

"HEY! WE GOT COMPANY, BOYS!" he yelled, hauling his suspenders up and picking up his rifle.

"Shit!" Vin cursed when bullets sailed past him. He heard the gunfire from behind and the tension lessened up. He knew his friends had his back. He didn't intend to stop riding until they crossed the river.

Part Seventeen

Gilbert wasn't about to go down without a fight. He knew from the grunt he'd heard and the body weight shifting behind him the man was was holding him had been shot. He spent a good half hour judging the shift in the saddle and the body kept tipping to the right. Several times small grunts of pain were heard. Twice when the right hand came up to reinforce the hold on the reins he could see they were sticky with something. He'd been working on freeing his hands and his left hand finally slipped through. The timing couldn't have been better. They were almost across the river and by the water level lapping at the horse's lower legs, it wasn't deep. Without warning, he slammed his elbow hard into the lower chest of the man behind him. The body toppled off into the water. He pulled his hands up and grabbed the reins, turning the horse slightly.

Buck had no time to cry out, he was face down in cold water. He swallowed quite a bit and couldn't get his breath. He spun over in the churning water and shoved his head and arm up. He wanted to call out to Vin but all he could do was cough and choke up water.

"Buck!" Vin called out, watching Gilbert manuever the horse.

He knew by the angle the other man was trying to ride parallel until a smoother crossing point. He knew this area and knew where that was. So he galloped hard, getting on the bank. He dropped off his horse and ran for Buck.

Buck heard Vin and used what waning strength he had left to swim to the shore. He heard Vin call twice more and headed for that voice. Finally he could crawl and saw legs approaching. He passed out before the tracker grabbed him.

"Shit... yer dead weight!" Vin hissed, his left hand was useless, he couldn't maintain a grip. He turned Buck on his back and grabbed his collar, lugging him inch by inch with his injured back screaming. "Wake the hell up!" he urged, eyeing the tan shirt in the moonlight. Although it was wet, the moonlight did show an area that was stained. He hated to do this but Buck was heavier and now mired in mud. He pushed his hand hard on the stain and a cry rang out. "Sorry... Bucklin... I can't hold ya. The currents t'strong. Ya need t'fight."

"S'okay... slick..." Buck chattered, he was freezing.

He sucked in a breath of air and growled from a place deep inside. He shoved off hard, getting his gangly limbs in order and staggered with Vin's help through the water until they hit land. He kept going, until they found a crop of rocks near the bank. He sagged back against the rocks and felt Vin's right hand moving along his chest.

"Bullet went through, looks like it took a good hunk o'meat along yer ribs." Vin assessed. "I'm jest goin' t'm'saddlebags. I got some tore up shirts in there Ez made fer m'hand. It'll do until the others git here. They outta be along soon."

"...go... on... I'm... okay... he's... gettin'... away..."

"He ain't gonna git far," Vin predicted, leaving the wounded man long enough to get the bandages. The wound was on Buck's right side just at the edge of his ribcage. He packed both front and back and tied several strips together to make a long enough end to go around Bucks waist and hold the clusters of cloth secure. Satisfied, he rose up. Buck immediately began to move, fighting to get his hand to his chest pocket. "Quit it... I ain't got any more cloth. Yer already bleedin'."

"...no... no... shit..." Buck was frantic, trying to rise. A strong hand shoved him back and although he couldn't see the sky eyes, he could feel their fire.

"Cut it out!" Vin warned, then he realized what was wrong. He caught Buck's eye and lowered his voice. He grabbed Buck's chin and made sure the older man could hear hiim. "Ya changed shirts... it's ain't lost."

"Huh"" Buck coughed, shivered and blinked hard at the younger man.

"Chris's coin... it ain't in that shirt. The one ya was wearin' was light colored like cream."

"Fuck... shit..." Buck sighed, sagging back and taking several jagged breaths. "You're... right... it's in the hotel... room... hanging... in... closet..."

"Tell the others not t'chase after, they won't know where t'go and this river is deadly. I'll bring the varmit t'town." Vin rose, his hawklike eyes skirting the river. "One way r'the other."

Buck watched until he couldn't see Vin anymore. He didn't hear any splashing so he assumed Vin had crossed back over. He was worried about Vin, he knew that Gilbert was no match for this skilled friend. The wound was throbbing now and he was fighting to stay awake.

"What's that up there?" JD called out.

"A body." Josiah craned his head to see in the distance.

"Too large for Vin." Ezra galloped ahead. He was off his horse and kneeling by Buck when the other two arrived. "It's Buck, he's been wounded. Vin must have patched him up."

"Where'd he go?" JD asked, dropping to Buck's side. "Buck? Hey, Buck? You okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," Buck hissed, slapping at JD's hand. "Quit pokin' at me. " He turned to Ezra and held out his hand. After taking a liberal dose from the slim flask, he caught his breath. "I got hit... leavin'... the ranch... .I guess he waited for the... right... moment... he elbowed me right in the wound, send me off the horse. Vin... pulled me out... of... the river... after I swallowed half. He... went... he... went..."

"Easy, brother." Josiah hoisted Buck up and took an arm around his shoulder. "We're not far from Grovers Pass. We'll get you to Doctor Franklin."

"Me and Ezra will go after Vin," JD announced.

"No... you... won't..." Buck argued shaking his wet head and coughing hard. He bent forward and clutched his bloody side. "Christ, that hurts."

"You're losin' blood, we gotta get you out of here." Josiah turmed tp Ezra and with his help, got Buck on Josiah's horse and the preacher climbed up after him.

"We can't leave Vin out here," JD blurted.

"How many times you crossed the Rio in the dark?" Buck panted, trying to find JD's young face.

"Well, I haven't but it's a river, I've crossed..."

"Not this one, not in the dark," Josiah agreed. "Vin knows this area, hell, if Gilbert wasn't careful, Vin'll be pullin' his body from the river. You can't see as much as you hand in front of you JD. One wrong step and you and the horse will go under. It's too deep, drops off without notice and the currents too strong. "

"We'll take Mister Wilmington back to town. We still have the matter of the outlaws hitting the surrounding towns to attend to. Our own town is nearly unprotected. Don't forget Mister Tanner is more skilled an adept and tracking vermin on his own that we are as a group."

"He's right," Buck stated. "Vin can move faster in the dark. Gilbert's dead meat. Hell, I bet we run into him going back to town."

"I don't like it," JD huffed. "It's like we're deserting him."

Buck sagged back heavily against Josiah and was glad for the strength of his friend. By the time they hit the main road, he was passed out. His last thought was of Vin and he hoped his hot tempered friend controlled himself when he caught the foul-mouthed Cotton.

Although Cotton had ridden in this area before, he'd not done so in the dark. He struggled to navigate the horse through the murky water with little or no light. Several times he wanted to head on shore but the rocks wouldn't allow it and the hills were steep. Now the river was widening a bit and the water was nipping at this knees. He squinted ahead and thought he saw a flat area. He turned around and craned his neck but didn't see anyone following.

Vin was a skilled rider and his tracking talent led him easily through the brush. He got ahead of Gilbert and kept abreast of him from above. He watched and waited as his prey fought the water and his balance. Finally he saw Gilbert heading for shore. So he guided his horse quietly and then slipped off, securing him to a branch . Pulling his gun, he crept silently until he was only a few yards away. Gilbert was on land and hunched over a bit. From what Vin could see, it looked like he was trying to work the remaining ropes on his hands.

It wasn't the distinctive sound of the click of the gun that caused the chill to creep up his spine. Rather it was the low, lethal tone in the rasp that broke the night air. The cold voice was so close he felt the hot breath on his neck.

"Git down."

He tried to turn the horse but found the reins taken and a gun shoved hard to his crotch. It was clear that this man meant what he said. If he wanted him dead, he would have shot him. What were his intensions? Before he could put a plan of action together, a arm reached up and yanked him, toppling him from the horse. He landed hard the force of the impact released his left hand.

"You can't kill me, I'm not armed." His eyes darted the ground for a rock or anything that could be used as a weapon. He got to his knees but a swift backhand with the gun sent him back and reeling.

"Kill ya?" Vin laughed, putting his gun in the holster and taking it off. The jacket came off next, he carefully laid it over the gun on a rock. " Coudda done that fer the last mile r'so while I tracked ya."

Gilbert saw the long-haired man draw that same knife out that he'd used before. His head was still ringing from the blow by the gun. He licked his lips and his eyes crawled backward until his backside hit a rock. The moon left the clouds and the bright silver light that bathed the other man nearly caused him to urinate. There was a glint in his eye that was far beyond the point of where dangerous ended. Then there was the way he was gripping the knife. But it was the grim smile with a sinister flash of teeth had his guts filling with ice water.

"I give up..." he tried, putting his hands up. "Mercy!"

"Mercy?" Vin spat in disgust at the coward by his boots. "Save that fer yer God. I'm here fer justice."

Gilbert shoved off and tried to knock the other man off balance. He did get to his feet but a hand grabbed the back of his undershirt. He fisted his hand and twisted around, managing to get a solid right and clip the attacker's jaw.

Vin stumbled backwards and sheathed his knife. He grinned and put his own fists up. All the gory images of the various phases of hell the Chris had been put through flashed through his mind. Maybe using his fists would be just as satisfying.

"Either way, it's yer funeral," he snarled when Cotton's eyes went to the secured knife.

Vin pounced, sending both of them to the ground. Then he grabbed the front of Gilbert's bloody shirt with his injured left hand and punched him with his right.

Cotton's head snapped back but he grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at the other's man's eyes. That caught him off guard and he used his fists well, getting two solid shots in to the jaw and gut. For awhile they wrestled and exchanged blows to body and face. Finally, Vin's left hand was causing him so much pain he decided to end the contest. Gilbert was on his hands and knees, a bit stunned and breathless. Vin staggered to his feet and kicked him as hard as he could in the jaw. He staggered to Buck's horse and took the canteen off. He doused his head and then poured the liquid on his throbbing hand. He took a few minutes to catch his breath and then eyed the prone victim. Try as he might, he could't get Chris's tortured body from his mind. So he took the rope off Buck's horse and walked back over until he stood over Gilbert. He spit a wad of blood and muck onto the twisted man's face.

It was time for payback.

Grovers Pass
Three a.m.

The sudden impact of bright light into a dark room would have been enough to startle him. But as Chris blinked and tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden pain the light caused, he saw Greg on his feet and Josiah steadying him. He saw Nathan and the doctor entering the room.

"Greg?" Chris croaked, gingerly sitting upright in the bed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm fine," Greg answered.

"We're movin' him t'the front room." Nathan moved past Chris to pull the blankets from the now vacant bed.

"Why?" Chris asked. Then he saw Josiah return carrying the front part of Buck with Ezra bringing up the boots. "Buck?" He saw the soggy shirt then, most of one side tinged pink with wet blood. "How bad?"

"I don't know yet," the doctor replied, nodding to a long table at the far end of the room. "But your friends tell me it went through. I will have to open it up to see if any damage was done." He saw the alarm rising in the pale eyes and reassured him. "He's got a good pulse and strong breathing. He's going to be fine."

"One of Parker's guards clipped him as Vin and him we're taking Gilbert away." Josiah turned towards Chris.

"If it's alright with you gentlemen, we should get some rest. We still have the urgent matter at home in the morning." Standish dusted his coat off.

"Okay," Josiah agreed. "JD's takin' care of the horses. We best get some sleep, the sun will be up soon."

"Where's Vin?" Chris asked.

"He's bringin' in Gilbert," Josiah updated. "One way or the other."

Ezra saw Larabee's features creased in puzzlement. "Shortly before reaching this side of the river, Gilbert sent Buck off his horse and took off. Vin rescued Buck and then set off after him."

"We had to get Buck back here, he was losin' blood," Josiah stated. "And only a fool would tangle with that river in the dark." He still worry lines on their blond leader. "He'll be okay, Chris."

"If he's not back by the time we leave, we will go and find him," Ezra vowed.

"It's not Vin I'm worried about," Chris voiced his concern. "Vin don't need another bounty on his head."

Josiah and Ezra exchanged a glance as the doctor turned back. He and Nathan had taken Buck's clothes and a loose sheet was draped over him from the hips down. Nathan left long enough to head for the kitchen and return with a tray of tools with steam rising.

"I'm going to have to ask all of you to leave. Nathan and I need to work here." The doctor eyed Standish and Sanchez. "You can't do anything more for him now. You look exhausted. Get some sleep and by the time breakfast rolls around, he'll be sleeping in the cot next to Chris."

A small campfire was the first thing that Cotton saw when he woke up. The pain in his face from the beating was quickly forgotten when he began to realize where he was. He was on his back and stripped to the waist with his arms tied to something behind him. He tried to move his legs, but they were spreadeagled and also staked down. He saw the long-haired man calmly sharping a knife and chanting in some Indian dialect. There was an acrid odor coming from the fire, he wondered what the man was burning and why. His first thought was that he was going to be scalped. That was enough to begin his heart to pounding and cause his mouth to run dry. Bands of cold sweat began to form in every part of him. Then the man put the knife down and picked up a piece of rope. When the rope was pressed to his throat and down his belly, he began to squirm.

"Quit movin'," Vin warned. "I can't git ya measured."

"M...m...m...meas...ured..." he stammered, his heart slamming hard into his chest.

"Yeah... tryin' to see how many t'bacca pouches I can git from yer topside. Ya bein' so soft... makes real smooth t'bacca pouches. " He eyed the sweat pouring from Gilbert and felt a certain degree of satisfaction. "Course yer back, that's better fer wallets. " He flicked his left wrist which was throbbing again. His right hand was swollen and sore, most likely due to the amount of times he hit Gilbert's hard head. "Course m'hands bein' busted up, that ain't s'good. The peels is likely t'be smaller and tougher..." He paused to eye the trembling man. "Real messy..."

"Puh... puh... peel..." Gilbert squeaked, the pain in his chest was increasing by the minute and it was hard to breathe. He saw the unholy light in the younger man's eyes and an odd smile when the knife was picked up.

"The Kiowa what taught me, he's real good." Vin paused and ran the blade slowly down Gilbert's soaked skin. "He could peel a man from his neck t'his ankles in one peel. How d'ya think we found that mine? That she-devil ya run with didn't wanna talk at first" He cocked his head and held the knife up and gave it a lusty stare. "But once I started peelin' her she squealed like the pig she is."

"You can't... possibly... mean... that's vulgar... something only a heathen would... attempt."

"Heathen!" Vin recoiled in contempt. "Ya tortured and drugged innocent men and sold 'em inta slavery. What the fuck does that make yer black soul?"

"I have money..."

"Good," Vin calmy answered, running the point of the knife around Gilbert's left nipple. "I reckon that'll outfit ya in nice coffin and suit."

"You'll never get away with butchery like this..." He was cut off when a rag was shoved in his mouth.

"Quit yer yammerin!" Vin snapped. "By the time I'm done with ya, what parts is left'll feed the vultures." He paused and put an unnatural glow in his eyes when he stared down at the prey. "Course mebbe I keep the scalp as a trophy. After I git it off, I'll let ya decide. The rest'll be buried long a'fore anyone passes by here." He drank in the extreme fright illustrated and rose. "I got some piano wire in m'saddlebag."

Piano wire.

Cotton's chest hurt so much now it defined words. He'd heard about being scalped and even seen a photo. He didn't doubt for one moment this long-haired man was serious. He was sweating profusely, whimpering beneath his gag and shaking all over. By the time the cold blue eyed man came back with the wire, his bladder was about to empty. When the wire was calmly laid on his abdomen, while the clumsy, swollen fingers tried to undo the buttons on his trousers, the bladder emptied in a hurry. Then the wire was strategically wrapped around all the parts of his now quivering manhood. One end was tied to a sturdy stick.

"Guess maybe I outta rest a minute, m'hands ain't workin' s'good. If I don't flick this right, instead o'them chicken parts o'yers comin' straight off, they only cut part through. It might take two'r three snaps till them fly off. A real bloody mess." Vin glared down at the melting pile of refuse. He waited awhile longer, enjoying the terror rising and engulfing Gilbert. Then he lifted the stick. "This is fer Chris Lar'bee."

There was a series of hooks in the ceiling at the other end of the room. Nathan came over and took the lamp that had been on the table next to Greg. They needed extra light. He gave Chris a confident smile and then left, placing the lamp on a table next to the one where Buck was lying. Then he pulled a curtain over separating them.

Chris couldn't rest nor did he try. He rested his eyes when the headache got bad but he kept listening. He heard the clang of tools and the quiet words the two healers exchanged. Finally, the curtain was pulled open and he sat half way up, leaning on his elbow. Nathan brought the lamp back over and then went to help Doctor Franklin. He waited until they had Buck settled in the bed and covered in blankets before he spoke.

"How'd it go?"

"You should be asleep!" Doctor Franklin observed. Larabee's face was trained on Buck's unmoving form. He saw the concern overlapping with pain in the worn out green eyes. "There were some minor tears in muscle and a nicked rib. He'll be sore and laid up awhile and weak from blood loss, but he'll be able to travel home with you in a wagon in a few days. Get some rest..."

"I will now," Chris answered with a very grateful nod. "Thanks, Doc."

Grovers Pass
Seven a.m.

There was something about smelling fresh coffee that just naturally caused you to force your eyes open, even with only a few hours sleep. So Josiah Sanchez was not surprised when Chris Larabee moaned, coughed, cursed and sat up. The light eyes that squinted at him were not happy.

"Mornin' Brother, " Sanchez greeted brightly, lifting his mug . "Ezra, work some magic here."

"I would mention yet again than I have yet to be repaid for the vast amount of liquor that you gentlemen consume."

"Shut up and pour," Josiah suggested, sipped and smiled. "Kentucky's finest. The Lord does appreciate a generous soul."

"Hey..." Chris croaked, sitting up and reaching for a mug of water. "How about some for the invalid?" He downed his water and waited while Ezra got him a mug of spiked coffee.

"We were hoping Vin would be back by now." Josiah misread Chris's eyes that were studying the window.

"He will," Chris stated confidently. He flicked his eyes to Buck's pale face and raspy breathing. "Buck looks shitty."

"...damned near impossible..." the wounded rogue whispered, peeling an eye open and glaring weakly at his oldest friend. "You gonna stay awake?"

"Why?" Chris was curious and his tone echoed that. He brows knit together in suspicion.

"...beddin' next to you... is... like... tryin'... to... sleep... in ... a... sawmill..."

"Fuck you Buck!" The blond retorted, which caused Buck to chuckle painfully.

"Don't... that hurts..." Wilmington clutched his bandaged side.

"As soon as we eat, we're gonna head out," Josiah updated Chris. "There's trouble in the territory and we need to get home before it gets there first They're already short with all of us gone."

"Yeah," Chris agreed, then looked up when Nathan came into the room. "Mornin' Nate." He eyed the material folded neatly in the healer's hands. It looked like dark flannel pants and a dark green shirt. He winked at Josiah then. "Looks like my bail arrived."

"Don't go gettin' cocky," Nate warned. "Gettin' Greg up last night put me in mind o'this. Yuhr legs need some work. I just got him settled outside and yer next. We're gonna go slow and easy. These are loose and should be soft next t'yer skin. It's nice outside and Mrs. Franklin's gonna serve breakfast on the porch. It'll do ya good t'sit in the air a spell."

"Lead on," Chris agreed.

It was almost eight and the men were enjoying eggs, pancakes, ham, biscuits and coffee on the porch. Buck was confided to his bed and already back asleep, thanks to Nate's medicinal tea. JD finished his second plate of food and headed for the table again.

"You keep eatin' that way, son and you're gonna need a new pants,' Josiah warned.

"Listen, preacher," JD retorted, stabbing an unfortunate pancake hard. His thought died when from where he stood, he saw a rider slowly coming towards the house. Not just any rider. One with long hair, a floppy hat and a hide coat. "VIN!"

Except for Chris and Greg, the others scrambled to their feet and joined Dunne at the far end of the porch. Ezra pushed past them and ran down the steps and onto the street. Josiah had sense enough to go back and ease the rocker Chris was sitting in covered in a blanket closer to the porch rail. He followed Standish and Dunne was right behind him.

"Gentlemen, a little help?" Ezra called out when Vin's horse stopped in the center of the street. "Good Lord..."

"Vin?" JD's voice died when he saw his friend's battered face.

Vin didn't reply, at this point, just breathing consumed what little strength he had left. But he lifted his bleary eyes to find the blond warrior on the porch. Seeing Chris dressed and outside was a great reward. But when the pale green eyes met his and Larabee's fist moved to tap his heart, Vin had his true reward. Painfully, he repeated the gesture.

Chris wasn't sure what Vin had done in the hours between dark and dawn out in the wilderness. He didn't know if Gilbert was still alive and he didn't care. Just that Vin had taken his battered body onto a horse and painfully endured the miles to seek justice on his behalf, that was enough. He knew that every new bruise Vin wore was worth it and that Vin knew it too.

Ezra went to Buck's horse, which was tied to Vin's. Draped over it and tied down was the missing man, Cotton Gilbert. Ezra's hand found the neck and a pulse. By the time he got the ropes untied, Josiah was next to him and easily lifted the culprit down. The first thing the prisoner did was reach between his legs to feel around. A choking sigh of relief caused more confusion among the peacekeepers standing next to him.

"Jesus, he looks like his face hit every rock in the river," Chris commented at the raw, mangled features.

"Weren't no rock," Vin whispered when Josiah's large form appeared in front of him. He managed to lift his face and cast his best, cocky grin. "...got me some justice... Old Testament like..."

"Music to my ears," Sanchez agreed with a smile. "You look like ten miles of bad road, son."

"Git up!" Vin snarled, eyeing the stuperous prisoner on the ground. Although Ezra and Josiah had taken him off the horse, his knees buckled and he was sagging. Vin leaned over and glared hard. "Don't make me ask ya again. "

Ezra and Josiah were as confused as their friends on the porch. Although no words were spoken, it was clear that something much heavier and deadly hung between every one of Vin's words. The stare they shared was long enough for Gilbert to begin to shake and sweat profusely.

"A...w... right... aw...right... just... don't... just..." Gilbert turned to the men holding his arms. "You the law? I'm confessin'. I did it all, robbed... the men... lots of... them... beat... them... drugged... sold... to... to... a mine... in Mexico...."

"As touched as I am," Ezra warned, hauling him up. "you're wastin' you're putrid breath. But we will be certain to make the Judge aware of your unsavory presence." He turned to the others. "Gentlemen, you all witnessed his confession?"

"Sure did," JD chimed, his eyes hot.

"Heard 'im clear as dirt," Nathan said, winking to the swaying Vin.

"I don't think I heard him clear," Chris stated in a low tone just shy of deadly.

"Me neither," Greg agreed.

"Ya heard 'em," Vin snapped, nodding to the porch. "Git yer mangy hide over there and say it again." When Gilbert balked, Vin only moved one leg over as if to dismount and that was enough.

"Okay... okay..." Gilbert backed up and turned to Josiah. "Keep him away from me. I'll sign anything, just don't let him near me."

Having seen and read what this man had done over the past several years and the dozens of lives he commited to a painful and premature death, they all wondered just what Vin Tanner could have done in the lost hours of the night prior that would cause such a reaction.

Gilbert managed to get to the porch steps and Vin caught Josiah's eye. He nodded to the grip that Ezra and he had on the prisoner. The gray-haired man caught the Southerner's eye and the dropped their hold. Gilbert went to his hands and knees.

"Outta be easy enough fer ya, given ya got no spine like most worms." Vin kept his heated eyes on Gilbert who crawled to where Chris Larabee sat.

"Stench is famliar," Greg said, walking to where Chris was sitting.

Gilbert found it difficult to raise his eyes to meet those of the two men he'd sent to the hellhole south of the border. He stammered badly, they continued to glare at him and with every word he confessed, he felt as if his skin was on fire. Finally, it was done.

"I won't ask for forgiveness..."

"Good, because you ain't gettin' it," Larabee cut him off. He leaned forward until he was just inches from the battered face. "You take a good look, you maggot-eatin' vulture, and get to know my face. Because you'll be seein' it in the front row for every fuckin' day of your trial. And if the Judge decides to let you swing, I'll be the last thing you see before your sorry ass hits the gates of Hell."

"I'm only sorry we didn't haul you in," Greg added.

"Would't have been anything to haul," Chris decreed, burning a hole into the quivering mass of flesh with his eyes. He cleared his throat and spit hard, hitting Gilbert in the forehead.

"You better move him, before I let go of the bile coming up," Wilson dictated.

"Come on, you got a lot of confessin' to do," Josiah said, grabbing the back of the man's collar.

"It should make for an entertaining afternoon, given your neighbor in the jail." Standish grinned, his gold tooth catching the sun.

"Oh, I imagine she'll have a lot to say," Josiah agreed.

Cotton couldn't bring himself to look at Vin Tanner. He didn't have to see the fury in the young man's eyes. He couldn't get that raspy voice from his head no matter how he tried. He'd been blindfolded most of the night and disoriented enough not to know what was real or not . The burning debris in the fire made his head swim. But that voice in his ear never wavered. The hot breath ran down his cheek, the words turned bloody, when the incidents were recalled of what other two-legged prey he'd captured during his days with the Indians and what he'd done to them. Every small detail was recalled.

For hours the knife and wire prayed on his mental state, coupled with the horror stories and the noise of the woods, it was enough to scare him good. But what really put the fear of God in him, was the vow the long-haired man made as he rolled him over on his belly that dawn. A knee was pressed to his back and his head yanked up by the scalp. For the longest moments of his life, the tip of the knife traced a line around his scalp. Tanner had warned him that if he wasn't lucky enough to die by the Judge's decree, he'd be sorry. And Cotton didn't doubt that. Tanner promised to be the first face he saw should he be set free one day and the last he'd see by that sunset which would be his last.

But as they got him down the porch steps, he did make the mistake of turning and all the buckskinned man did was move his arm and caress his knife. Then he licked his lips and grinned. It conjured up every dark fear that consumed him and it was as if he heard the souls of every man he'd sent across the border. He heard a multitude of screams inside his head and then everything went black.

"Dammit!" Sanchez swore. "He couldn't of held out a little longer? He stinks to high heaven."

"You sure it's him?" Nathan asked, wrinking his nose at Josiah's soiled clothes.

"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that," Josiah answered.

Ezra knelt down to check for a pulse, given the battered body, it was unclear if there was damage they couldn't see. "He reeks or urine and bowel debris," he stated, eyeing Gilbert's unmarred chest and back.

"Guess you scared the shit outta him, Vin," Chris chirped, grinning at the Texan. He wasn't sure if Vin was even aware. He didn't know what force was still keeping him in the saddle.

"I can't find a wound." Standish decided, rising when the smell got to great.

"Maybe you won't," Chris concluded, trying to decide if he was happy that Vin caught the bastard and got back in one piece of angry that it wasn't him that went hunting. He knew Vin was cagey enough to have done damage that wouldn't show. He wondered just what threats were issued and how strong.

Ezra and Josiah carried Gilbert across the street to the sheriff's office. A few moments later, they appeared on the street and crossed back over.

"JD? Can you find the Judge? Let him know he has a customer?" Sanchez said, wondering why Vin hadn't gotten down from his horse yet. "Vin?"

"Okay," JD agreed, "I'll take care of the horses." He gathered the reins of Buck's horse and moved to the front of Tanner's. He no sooner got the leather in his hand when Vin began to sway a bit.

"Josiah!" Chris warned when Tanner's eyelids fluttered .

"I got 'im." Sanchez caught him and carried him onto the porch. He laid him down on the broad expance of whitewashed planks. Nathan quickly moved in and his hand went to Vin's neck first, then he cupped the square jaw and lifted the eyelid that wasn't swollen shut.

"Damn," Larabee noted, watching Josiah lift Vin's swollen right hand. He watched carefully as the healer knelt down to give Vin a quick check. "He's not hit, is he? Seems he's picked up a talent for hiding bullets."

"I think he's just wore out," Nathan advised, having checked VIn's eyes, pulse and breathing. "His back wasn't upta ridin' yet. It's a wonder he got back here without fallin 'off that horse. Once I get him inside, I'll strip him down and check him good, just in case."

"This was the good hand, right?" Josiah asked, gingerly easing Tanner's right hand back down.

"I hope t'hell that ain't broke," Nathan sighed hard. "He ain't gonna be fit t'live with if he can't use either hand. Be like him havin' a triple Tanner cold." They had all suffered through the perils of Vin's cranky state when he got a cold, he was nearly impossible to live with.

Josiah and Ezra looked at each other and began to speak at once.

"Well, as much as we'd like to stay and assist Mister Tanner in those delicate matters," Ezra began.

"Duty calls," Josiah ended, tapping Vin's listless cheek and rising.

"Cowards," Chris called out as the pair left.

Chris realized that Nathan and the doctor would be examining Vin. With Buck already in there, he would be crowded them. So he remained on the porch with Greg. Greg followed them inside and waited a few moments. He saw Nathan nod that there was no new wounds and went back to update Chris. Like his blond friend, he was glad to be in the fresh air. He held out his coffee mug and the younger man went to the nearby table and filled both from a silver pot.

"No new wounds, looks like Vin is worn out is all."

"He earned it," Larabee touted.

"Don't know if I ever met anyone as determined as your friend, Vin." Greg handed the mug over and eased himself down into a chair. The morning breeze lifted his hair and he inhaled deeply, enjoying the refreshing embrace.

"Vin can get downright ornery when he's huntin'" Chris's voice tinged with pride. "Wish to hell I was with him."

"I hear that," Greg agreed, tapping his mug against the other. He saw the blond turn away, swallow very hard and study the horizon. He knew CHris must be full of emotion and allowed him that quiet time to compose himself.

Chris thought on all that Vin had gone to on his behalf. From hunting down Gilbert to begin with, gaining the information on the mine in Mexico and the rescue there. But risking his life to go into Texas to bring Gilbert back went beyond the call and Larabee would not soon forget that effort.

Part Eighteen

Grovers Pass
Mid-Afternoon.

"...time... woke... up..."

"...says... who..."

"...madder... wet... hornet..."

Vin's brows creased in confusion when bits and pieces of broken conversation entered his foggy brain. He sighed hard, kept his grimace and turned his face left and right. His eyes didn't want to open and he wasn't quite sure where he was. It felt like a bed and as he tried to move his hands to futher investigate and found a hand on his arm.

"Don't..."

Nathan kept his hand on Vin's arm even after the face scowled deeper and he could almost hear the curses forming.

"Nate, I'd help but..." Buck offered 'weakly' from his bed. Vin was in the bed Chris had occupied. The blond was in a high backed rocker at the foot of Vin' s bed.

"Yeah, I can see how upset ya are," Jackson replied with more than a dash of sarcasm.

"Leave me be," Vin grumbled, blinking and trying to figure out why he couldn't move his arms. "Move... hell... away..."

"Yuh hush up that Tanner mouth," Nate warned, watching the fuzzy blue eyes focusing on his face. "I had me a long night and I'm tired." He paused long enough to lift Vin's upper body and shove a large pillow behind his back. Now the young man was sitting up in the bed. "I'm gonna get ya some food," he updated, holding a mug of cold cider to Vin's lips. "Drink."

"What the hell?" Vin hissed, dodging the mug and blinking hard. He stared dumbfounded for a moment at his arms. His right hand was tied down into a deep metal pan of sorts full of cold water and cloth. The left left was secured as well, the spider bite was red and oozing. It was also throbbing without abandon and if given the chance, he'd cut the damn thing off. "Dammit, git me outta this rig!"

"That bite was supposed to be kept clean and covered, I warned ya about that. When I unwrapped the dirty cloth this morning, it was all loaded with infection and hot. Now I cleaned it out and it's gotta drain. Yuh want it t'heal right, ya leave it be! The other one's swollen from poundin' Gilbert. Yuhr lucky it ain't broke." He pushed the mug in again but the pouting face turned away. "Fine!" Nathan put the mug down on the tray in front of Vin. "Now ya go thirsty til I get back."

"I got a wicked itch workin' up..." Vin called after Nathan.

"I got a bigger one, named Tanner!" Jackson called back and earned two solid laughs from Larabee and Wilmington.

"Don't look this way," Chris warned.

"Afternoon, slick," Buck chirped when the eyes moved his way in a woeful plea. "I wish I could oblige but I can't get out of bed yet."

"Pair o'no account skunks," Vin grumbled. "Had snakes fer better friends."

"Vin, you spill that and Nathan'll have a fit," Chris suggested at the balancing manuever. To his surprise, VIn got his face low enough to lap and suck the top of the mug and then grab it and tip it up with his teeth. Nary a drop spilled.

"Hey, can you do that again?" Buck asked, amazed. "Ezra cleaned me out in poker." Buck's eyebrows went up at the string of Indian dialect that came back at him. "Was that a curse?"

"Cursin' at you or puttin' a curse on you," Chris chimed in and grinned.

"Shut the hell up, ya no account yella-haired jackass," Vin snarled. "Park yer ass elsewheres."

"I would but you're in my bed," Chris reminded him. "And you best enjoy what little time you have left. I got a mind to reclaim it."

"T'fuckin' bad," Vin pouted, "...trussed up like a bird and m'ass it itchin'. Can't get much worse." Then a fly landed on his cheek and slowly began exploring his face. "Aw, hell..." His friends both began to laugh hard. "Shut up, it ain't funny. Hell, he's probably got a pack o'friends wrestlin' in horse shit up the street and jest waitin' t'come the hell over."

Buck had to clutch his wounded side, the laughter was causing him pain and creating an odd sound. Chris was still wheezing from laughter when he saw Doctor Franklin's confused face in the doorway. Vin's long string of curses left the physician confused but not his two friends. "It's okay, Doc, everything's finally back to normal."

By suppertime, Vin's right hand had become more flexible. Nathan suggested Vin bathe it in cold water on and off for the next day or two. He was able to move his wrist and fingers fine. The left hand would require a bit more healing but the tracker would only take the painkillers at night. They upset his stomach and knocked him out.

It was about eight p.m. and Vin, Buck, Chris and Greg were enjoying coffee and peach pie when the Judge arrived. Chris and Buck were in bed, the younger two men in rockers nearby.

Judge Travis eyed the quartet and his concerned gaze lingered on the variety of bruises, wounds and battered limbs. He knew just how much they'd gone through and appreciated the deep friendship that Vin and Chris shared.

"Evenin' Judge," Buck called out, nodding to the table by the window. "Mrs. Franklin just left a fresh pot of coffee."

"Thanks, I just had supper," Orrin Travis replied. He paused by Greg Wilson's chair. "Young man, I hear you are planning to leave in a few days."

"Yessir," Greg answered. "Unless you have a trial date. Then I'll wire James and let him know."

"He gave a full confession, no reason for a jury. I have both of your testimonies and that of his accomplice. I also have the records provided by Mister Standish. Also, I have to weigh the testimony of the other men and then I'll render a sentence."

"What about all the men who died in that rat hole in Mexico?" Greg asked. "Somebody has to fight for them."

"Since Mister Standish was wise enough to retain the journal with the records of the last two years, I have found a dozen men who died there, directly as a result of Gilbert's actions. So he will be charged with their deaths."

"He gonna hang?" Chris asked and the Judge didn't reply.

"I have one more witness to interview." He turned to Vin who'd remained silent throughout the last few moments. "I was greatly surprised that he confessed freely. I have the feeling that you might have persuaded him somewhat last night."

Chris's surprised face zeroed in on Vin Tanner, who'd remained silent. The blue eyes were trained on the window or perhaps somewhere far beyond. What did Vin know that they didn't ?

Orin Travis read the other faces easily. Whatever transpired had them curious as well. He wasn't sure if Vin's lack of emotion was physical or emotional. He knew how close Vin and Chris were and wondered how much of a mental burden the younger man was bearing . The exhaustion that radiated from him was due to something far more than physical.

"At times he seemed to babble and his eyes glazed over. For a moment I considered maybe deeming him unfit. The doctor treated his wounds and did a thorough examination." The judge redirected his gaze to Buck.

"Did the doctor find anything?" Buck asked.

"No. Only the marks on his face from the fight with Vin." Travis turned back to Tanner. "What happened out there Vin?"

"He was tryin' t'git his hands free. I jumped 'im and we fought. He finally didn't git up. M'hands were fucked up r' Idda brung him back sooner. I coudn't lift 'im up. I kept stickin' m'hands in the river t'git the swellin' down. Finally I got 'im on the horse and come in."

Vin hadn't exactly lied, all of that had occured. What he left out was the game he'd played all night with the piano wire and stick. He also blindfolded Gilbert and burned some sage and other herbs and chanted. It kept his prisoner very confused and by twisting the wires just so much, it created a sort of pain that through exhaustion and terror kept the victim in the dark. Gilbert didn't know until he'd falled off the horse and felt it, if he had his privates or not. Vin took the wire away just before dawn and packed the area with a wet, icy cold cloth to take the marks away. Then he'd loaded the bastard over Buck's horse and headed out.

Something told the Judge that there was a large piece of the puzzle missing. But having read the accounts of the other men and the journals taken from the mine, along with hearing Chris Larabee's and Greg Wilson's first hand testimony, it might be enough. Whatever transpired last night under that cloak of darkness might be best left there.

"Very well," he answered. "If you stop over in the morning, Vin, we'll get your statement on the record. The matter is close and I'll make my decision." He shook Greg's hand. "Good luck, young man. It's not often you get a second chance like this."

"No sir, I know that now. Believe me, I won't waste it."

"Good!" He nodded at both Wilmington and Larabee and turned to leave, when Tanner's raspy voice stopped him.

"Why don't we git it done now?" Vin suggested quietly. "No sense waitin'."

"Are you sure you up to this, Vin?" He knew that Vin had endured a large emotional trauma and hoped that he would be able to heal from that as well.

Vin stood up, cradled his left hand to his chest and slowly made for the door. The Judge nodded to the others and followed him. For a few moments none of them spoke. Each was slowly digesting the information the Judge provided.

Chris was relieved that there wouldn't be a trial. As much as he wanted justice, having to relive the torture he'd endured was not something he was ready for yet. He had a gut feeling the Judge would provide the death sentence and that would satisfy him. A part of him feared the somehow, Gilbert would get off. He had enough money to buy a good lawyer and on any given day a jury could be swayed or bought. He saw Buck's dark blue eyes traveling to the window. Vin's figure could be seen crossing the street.

"I wonder what the hell Vin did to him out there?" Buck asked to nobody in particular.

"I don't." Chris ended all further speculation.

If Vin chose to share what he'd done to Gilbert during the night in the woods or if he chose to remain silent, either was fine by Larabee. He just hoped Vin had the sense to talk to him if the burden of that or all the other emotional turmoil he'd undertaken became too much. Could be once they got back to the ranch, Vin would relax. They both needed to heal inside and out. He settled down and began to think of the ranch and of the rich warmth that Hope brought and wrapped them in.

It was early morning and Orin Travis left the cafe and eyed the streets of Grovers Pass. In a few moments, the sheriff would lead the prisoner to a vacant property at the end of town. There, Chris Larabee and Greg Wilson would hear the charges read and identify the prisoner. The other men had already gone to the jail cell to provide that information. Delilah, the wiley accomplice, was on her way to the Territory Jail for Women. Once Chris and Greg gave their testimony ,he would decree a sentence. The store in question had a vaulted ceiling, over two stories high. The loading dock above would serve as a platform and the noose was waiting. He was about to move in that direction, when a soft drawl caught his ear

"Mornin' Judge," Vin offered.

"Vin," Judge Travis turned to see the young man sitting on top of a barrel in front of the hardware store. "I assume you will be joining us this morning when Mister Gilbert's ultimate fate is decided."

"Ya assumed wrong," Vin replied. Seeing anyone hang brought his own fate a little too close for comfort. "I talked t'Chris already."

"That's your choice," the Judge replied.

Vin studied the Judge's face for a moment and his own future rose up. The last couple days just thinking about the hanging had him pondering on his bounty. The Judge was a fair man and he recalled Buck's words that night on the porch. He really wanted a future in this area, on the ranch and with Inez by his side. He didn't want to risk that chance for happiness with the threat of bounty hunters looming over him. His name was all he had left of his father and it meant the world to him. He wanted it clean again.

"Ya got a minute, Judge?"

"Something I can help you with, Vin?" he asked, spotting the clouds in the normally bright blue eyes.

"I uh... got... uh..." Vin paused, raked his long, slender fingers through his hair and frowned. He exhaled long and slow and faced the magistrate. "I got a problem, I need yer help. Well, I ain't sure if ya can help but I hope ya can."

"Does this have to do with the bounty on your head?" The stunned face that met him told him his reply. He moved closer, gazing at the street again and cleared his throat.

"I know about Kincaid, Vin, I've known for some time. I make it my business to know about the men I employee. I was a bit surprised when I found out about that bounty. But I did some homework and then studied your character. Your actions on my behalf, keeping the town and the county safe, sometimes at the risk of your own life, has shown me all I need to know about your moral compass. From the information I gathered, there were some murky areas that I wasn't comfortable with."

"I was framed, " Vin blurted, still shocked by the simple words spoken. "I was trackin' a murderin' piece o'filth, Eli Joe. I got t'close and he killed Kincaid, switched clothes and such. I thought it was him, but I found out different when I brung the body in. He was well liked in that area and the sheriff was kin. They was fixin' on lynchin' me, I got loose and kept goin'."

"And unfortunately, Eli Joe is no longer available to question in the is matter?"

"No, he come huntin' me and was gonna kill me. Chris didn't have a choice, he shot him."

"But the unsavory elements he hired to ride with him on that ruse, they are in prison. I'm sure if visit Mister Watson and the rest, I can get some valuable information." He saw such relief pouring from Vin that he found his hand on the young man's shoulder, giving a slight pull. "Why didn't you ask me sooner, Vin?"

"I didn't know how," Vin replied. "Wasn't sure where I stood."

"Well, you do now," Orin reassured.

"Ya let me know what it's gonna cost. It might take awhile, but I'll git ya the money." He eyed the road out of town and his voice dropped into a wistful tone. "The ranch... workin' with Buck and Chris... I got a real shot here, Judge. I never figgered I'd ever have nuthin' t'call m'own. I want a family... roots... I can't pass m'name on 'til it's clean again."

"Hmmm..." The Judge rubbed his chin and studied Vin's face. The longing in the sky eyes told him maybe there was more to the story. "Is there a young lady in this picture?" The head bobbed once and he smiled. "Well, then, more's the reason. The area needs more young families. I'll do my best, son."

"It's a helluva lot more than I had this mornin'," Vin answered, rose up and shook the man's hand. "I'm grateful."

"I'd never have guessed," he teased of the emotive, tell-tale eyes. "Now, if I'm going to catch that stage later today and begin this process, I have work to do."

Chris and Greg both turned around when the door to the large barn-like warehouse opened. The sheriff walked in, shoving a handcuffed Gilbert past them to a simple bench in the center of the room. A table and chair were set up for the Judge. Chris and Greg were facing the Judge's table with the bench to their left.

"Gentlmen," Judge Travis spoke low as he passed the duo. They nodded in return. He sat at the table, put his valise down and took out his documents. He took out the worn bible last, handing it to the sheriff.

"If you would," Travis stated. "Place your hand on the bible and provide your consent to the oath. Mister Wilson, you first."

Once the pair was sworn in, the Judge wasted no time. Chris and Greg both identified Gilbert and each provided a detailed account of what happened to them. The Judge took notes, drew out a single draft that was his decree for Gilbert, signed and dated it.

"Mister Gilbert, please rise." He waited and eyed the pale man before him. "It is by the order of the court that you hang by the neck until dead. Sheriff, carry out the sentence."

"Yessir," the sheriff replied, taking Gilbert towards a ladder that led to the catwalk above. A few moments later, he pushed the man ahead of him onto the loading platform and onto a portion of it where hay bales were dropped through a hole. A plank covered that hole. The noose was placed on his neck.

"You got anything to say?" He asked.

"God forgive me," Gilbert replied and closed his eyes.

Chris flinched slightly when the lever pulled the plank back and the body dropped. He heard Greg suck in breath hard and push back in his chair. He gazed sideways and saw the young man gag a bit when the body swayed to and fro slightly.

"It didn't feel like I thought," Greg admitted of his churning stomach.

"Never does," Chris replied, rising stiffly. "But he got what he deserved. Time to put it behind us and move on."

"Yeah... the nightmare is over."

"Let's get out of here." Larabee's cool green eyes met the Judge's. He nodded his thanks and walked towards the door. "When's your stage?"

"In less than an hour. It was nice of the Judge to do this early."

"Anxious?" CHris guessed as the pair limped slowly down the street. They sat inside the depot, waiting for the coach to accept it's fares. The bags were being loaded and the driver was eating breakfast across the street.

"Yeah... I transfer up north and then I'll catch a train in Denver. It's hard to believe I'll be home in a week. Seeing James again, making peace with him and my father... my father..."

"Looks like nothing but sunshine ahead for you." Chris envied Greg that. He was young enough to find the right woman, settle down and raise a family.

"You too," Greg sent back. "That ranch you and Buck run, it's named right." He moved across the room and got each of them a mug of coffee.

"That it is," Chris agreed, pulling out Ezra's flask and pouring a shot of liquor in the hot brew. "All the best, Greg, I mean that."

"I know, thanks, Chris."

They sipped the savory blend and each was lost in their own private thoughts. Then the driver entered and announced that the stage was loading. Chris rose, winced, rubbing his wounded leg and gripped Greg's neck.

"I can't say it was a pleasure," the blond found a grim smile. "But I'm glad we crossed paths. I'd have been dead right off if you hadn't been there."

"Works both ways, Chris," Greg replied, shaking the firm hand. "I know you don't get back East much. But if you get back to Virginia, my door is always open."

"I'd like that," Chris replied, reluctantly letting go. "Let me know how your doing, okay?"

"Sure thing," Greg answered, climbing into the carriage.

Chris sat down on the bench in front of the depot and kept his eyes on that coach until it left. He thought on how easy it had been for Greg to take up his back. He was a good man and Chris was sure he and his brother would make up for lost time. He was glad for his new friend and hoped that the letters that came back would be full of the promise that sparkled in Greg's eyes when he left.

"Hey, cowboy."

Chris turned to the drawl and saw Vin appear from the shadows of the building.

"It's done," Chris stated. He knew Vin couldn't stomach a hanging and understood that. If not for Vin, Gilbert most likely would have gotten away. That meant more to him than Vin being there for the final part of the dark story.

"Ya busy?" Vin asked.

"It ain't like a got a full dance card," Larabee quipped of his battered state. "Why?"

"Got somebody I'd like ya t'meet," Vin suggested quietly.

Chris was curious as to who in the town Vin knew. He stood up and followed the lanky Texan until they were two buildings down. He saw Vin disappear near a stairwell on the side of a two story wooden building. He limped up slowly, pausing and panting, gripping the rail hard and cursing VIn under his breath. A few moments later, a very pretty redhead with an apple green dress that appeared to be painted on a very shapely body came to the landing.

Chris chuckled under his breath, swiped the grin from his lips and turned his very amused eyes to the tracker's.

"Thanks, Vin, but I think I can handle my own action when I'm ready."

Vin scowled and glared at Larabee. "Git outta her drawers," he snapped, "That ain't what this is about. What the fu... hell do I care about them mangy boys o'yers?" He paused, turned to the woman and lowered his voice. "Sorry about that, Ma'am."

"Honey, between that drawl and that blush, I could eat you up," she purred, cupping his chin.

Chris just groaned and shook his head. It never failed to amaze him that the 'blush and Ma'am' choirboy routine worked every time. Women melted like butter in Vin's wake. He wasn't sure if Vin was even aware of that power. Ezra once argued that Vin knew exactly what he was doing and when to apply that charm.

"Chris, this here is Miss Sally. That first night I got here, when I come huntin' ya, she's the one who pointed me in the right direction. Told me all about that tent city. If it weren't fer her... most likely ya'd be dead now."

"Well, then," Chris answered, coming up and standing before her. He took her hand and lifted it. "I guess 'thank you' seems a bit small." He kissed her hand. "But I sure mean it."

"I was glad to do it Mister Larabee." Sally felt her color rising when she looked into the light green eyes. The muscular, sinewy body before her was pouring off heat. The handsome blond man was the type that without trying could light a fire inside of every female that was near him. "That place should have been shut down years ago. I almost lost a good friend to that beast. I can't say I'm sorry he's dead."

"Mister Larabee is my father," Chris dissolved with one glance. "I'm Chris."

"Well, handsome, I'm hungry and I was about to get some breakfast. I can have Harry send up full platter."

"I ate," Vin said, even though they didn't seem to notice he was still there. He shoved Chris forward a bit. "But Chris here loves hotcakes and sausage." He met Sally's eyes then. "I meant what I said about the reward, Miss Sally. It should be more than enough fer ya t'move on."

"I never thought I could... " she swallowed hard. "I got an uncle and aunt up near Portland. They run a hotel there and it 's a busy place. They been askin' for help, they're gettin' on in years."

"I'd like to hear more about that," Chris answered. "And you got my word, you'll have enough for a brand new start."

"Ya best keep in mind that yer not healed yet," Vin said with a straight face. "At yer age, ya might hurt yerself."

"You want both them hands of yours tied down again?" Chris threatened, then tugged Vin's hat down over his eyes. "Say goodbye , Vin." He took Sally's arm and followed her back inside her room.

"Goodbye, Vin," Tanner repeated, grinned, shoved his hat back up and trotted back down the stairs.

Hope Ranch
Five days later

Sunday supper never tasted any sweeter and the words 'Home Sweet Home' never meant more. Chris Larabee was outside alone by the corral. The sun had set and the sky was now growing dark. He yawned and then scowled. His body still had a lot of healing to do and he was exhausted most of the time. Although the trip home today from Grovers Pass normally would not be long, he and Buck were forced to ride in a wagon and that made it longer.

Buck and JD were inside playing checkers. Nathan was reading and Vin left right after supper for Craig McTavish's ranch. The kind hearted neighbor had taken care of the seven new horses his friends brought in while they were away. Craig and his men had worked with them and taken care of them. Vin wanted to check in with him and make arrangments for a sale. He'd probably sleep at the old cabin since it bordered the MacTavish ranch.

Chris put his coffee mug down and rubbed his shoulder. Today Nathan had started him on working the muscles in his wounded shoulder. The exercises hurt and although he was tempted, he was tired of the sluggish aftereffect the medicine the healer used on him. The headaches were getting better everyday and his chest was finally clearing up. But there was a odd, distracted feeling inside he didn't quite understand. As much as he longed to get home, since he' d arrived, he felt disjointed from his friends. He didn't feel connected and didn't understand why.

He tossed the cheroot away and took the last sip of the strong coffee. The evening breeze kicked up and kissed his face. Wasn't this what he'd held onto during those days and nights in hell? He was lucky to be alive and yet he didn't feel that way. Sighing hard, he shook his head and leaned on the wooden rail.

"Thought ya might want some more," Nathan said, holding out the coffee pot.

"Thanks, Nate," Chris replied, moving his mug.

"How ya doin', Chris?" Nathan asked, eyeing the somber profile. He hadn't missed that Larabee was exceptionally quiet and withdrawn all day. He'd barely eaten any dinner and excused himself to come outside.

"I'm not sure, Nate." He took a sip and kept his eyes on the horizon. "During the worst of it, I kept seeing this place. I wanted it so bad, it hurt. Now, I'm here and yet..." He didn't finish the thought.

"Yuh been through a lot, Chris, it's gonna take some time. Skin and bones is easier to heal than spirit." He thought on a time in his own past that had been a nightmare. "I think I know a little of what yer goin' through. I had a few nightmares in my time, whippin's, mock hangin's, a couple o'near forced drownin's, but when I lost my family, when they got sold off one by one, there was no medicine to fix that. I was empty inside, couldn't taste food, didn't care about nuthin."

Chris never heard Nathan talk about his past and although he didn't know much, he knew Nathan had been a slave and suffered many brutalities. When he began to think of the horror this man lived within from the time he was a child, it shamed him to complain. He couldn't imagine watching some bastard sell off his mother or brothers. Or what if Adam was sold? He shuddered and sucked in a painful breath.

"How long Nate? I want my life back."

"Ain't no easy fix, Chris. I'm not the most spiritual person, but I prayed. I prayed fuhr a light t'guide me. God don't always give ya the answer ya want, but he does give ya an answer. Yuh got family here, Chris, folks that care. Yuh need t'lean a little, cuss a little, ya got us."

Chris didn't trust his voice to reply so he nodded his head. He felt a warm tug on his neck before Nathan took the pot inside. He stayed outside and thought on those words for a long time. He thought on the ordeal these men went through, risking their lives to find him. From that he would begin, he'd find a way back. He respected them and himself too much not to.

Chris's Old Cabin
Ten p.m.

The fire was dying down but Vin didn't care. He was stretched out on a blanket on the floor in front of it, the orange and amber glow on his naked skin reflected the warmth. He'd eaten a fine meal at MacTavish's and gotten Craig to agree on taking a half of the profit from the sale they would get. Three of the seven were ready to be sold, the other four would be brought back to Hope Ranch in the next day or two. Although he was tired, he wasn't exhausted. He should be, it had been a long day. He sensed Chris wanted some time alone and he understood that. After the brutality and torture he'd endured he was entitled to some time. He heard a horse and hitched himself up on his elbow. He rolled to his side and got his gun, then saw a silouette through the window in the moonlight of long hair and a white blouse. Relaxing, he put the gun back and settled back down, pulling a light quilt up to his waist.

Inez paused for a moment on the porch. She peeked through the window and saw him lying on a blanket by the fire. He was beautiful and that came from the inside out. Every time she looked at him, her blood heated up and her heart beat faster. She crept to the door and opened it slowly. She wasn't sure if he was sleeping but she didn't want to disturb him. As soon as she heard they had returned, she went to the ranch. JD told her Vin was at MacTavish's. She'd been updated at the Scotman's ranch that VIn was headed here. She slipped out of her shirt and blouse, then picked up his soft blue shirt which was on the chair. She moved the fabric over her face, inhaling deeply and relishing his scent, it made her tingle all over. Then she slipped it on and knelt down by his side.

Vin felt the velvet lips brush against his forehead. "I ain't totin' a fever."

"I know," she replied huskily, moving over him. His eyes opened then and the rapture that poured out left her breathless.

"My God, yer beautiful," Vin whispered, tracing her cheek with his finger.

"I was just thinking the same thing," she answered, "You are beautiful Vin Tanner, especially this heart." She bent down and kissed the area over his heart.

Vin moved his hands under the shirt and over the silken skin on her back. He accepted the kiss she offered and returned it, plundering the insides of her mouth with all the fervor he had. He moved and eased her under him, shoveing the blue fabric aside and kissing her throat before capturing each of rosy tip on her ripe breasts.

The sultry Spanish moans that she whispered colored the air around them. Her small hands on his shoulders applied pressure for him to move south. He moved his hand down the inside of her thigh and her legs opened for him. His talented tongue began to explore the velvet softness inside of her. Once they created the right kind of fever, he moved over her and they became one. The world died away and he felt the stars shower them as he worshiped his goddess.

With the rosy hue of new love guiding them, they explored each other's bodies for hours. Now, he was sitting up with his back against the wall. She was spread across his lap, her head on his shoulder. Another blanket was wrapped around them. He felt as if he inhaled a rainbow. He never wanted this feeling to end. He kissed the top of her head and caressed the warm skin over her hip.

"I wanted it t'be special," he confessed. "I wanted t'court ya proper."

"It is special, Vin!" she protested, moving her head to face him. She cupped that strong chin and nearly drowned in the ardent eyes that were studying her. "It was that first night, it was tonight and it will be everytime. "

"I love ya, darlin," Vin whispered, kissing her softly.

"I love you, too." She moved his hand over her heart. "You have captured this, you will always own it."

He wrapped the blanket closer and rocked a little, until he felt her breathing grow deeper. Then he eased her down and covered her. He rose and pulled his pants on, heading outside. The new day was about to be born and it was different than any other day he'd seen created. He wanted a life with Inez, a family, a home. He yearned for the day he would be gifted with a little girl with her mother's fierty spirit and those pretty eyes. But he couldn't do any of that until he cleared his name. He hoped that in the coming weeks, the Judge would bring him good news.

Part Nineteen

The late afternoon sun was spreading her golden cape across the horizon. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue and the horses that Josiah and Craig MacTavish had dropped off earlier were being groomed in the corral. The preacher had departed for town, leaving Vin, JD and Buck to tend to the horses.

Vin was bathing the wounds on the back of a paint horse when he noticed Buck wincing and swaying a bit. He put his cloth down and ambled over, tapping the older man's back.

"Seems Lar'bee could use come company," Vin suggested and the dark head bobbed.

"My mama didn't raise no fool," Buck agreed, dropping the brush and rubbing the chesnut mane. He eyed Vin and saw fatigue resting in the tracker's eyes. Due to he and Chris being disabled, JD was pitching in to help Vin. "Sorry, Vin..."

"Fer what?" Vin disarmed. "Could be when ya git rested a bit, ya can toss some of Josiah's weeds on them steaks."

"Could be," Buck answered of the bag of herbs that Sanchez rubbed the steaks with prior to cooking. After the meat was done, red wine was poured into the hot pan and poured over the sizzling meat. He clapped Vin's sweat-covered back and headed for the porch.

Vin glanced over towards the edge of the corral. JD was mixing St. John's Wart and Comphrey into a bucket of other herbs and honey. He would use this on the wound on the side of the little mare he was tending. Vin had felt the coolness whenever JD was near him. He knew something was bothering the youth and he could made a good guess as to what. But it had to be aired and now was as good a time as any.

JD tapped the polished wooden flat tool and scooped some of the mix up, slathering it gently on the marred side of the pretty horse. He spoke to her softly, pausing to stroke her mane. He saw a shadow fall over them and turned slightly, hoping it was Buck. But then he saw the boots and frowned. He continued his ministrations until he was satisfied that the wound was properly medicated. He tapped the paddle and walked to the bucket of water nearby to wash it off.

"Ya done a good job," Vin commented, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "She's a fine little horse."

"Yeah," JD agreed. He played with the wooden stick and felt the awkwardness rising. Now that Vin was healed, Chris was home and the danger removed, his feelings had returned. They were not feelings he was comfortable with and especially not around Vin.

"Ya best spit it out before it chokes ya, kid."

Damn him!

How was it that Vin could always sense what the problem was? JD didn't want to confront him about it, he was hoping in time it would go away. He toed the dirt near the fencepost and continued to study the woodgrain he was holding.

"I'm fine."

"I ain't blind, JD. Ya been avoidin' me since we got back. Whatever's eatin' at ya is better off out. Let's head to the creek..."

JD huffed in annoyance, tossed the wooden tool down and climbed over the corral. He picked up a pile of the cloths they used earlier to bath the horses.

Vin got the bucket with the soap and they silently walked the quarter mile to the water. For a few moments, they worked in silence. Vin decided he would have to iniate the talk.

"Ya ain't got the stomach fer what I done back in Mexico t'them animals..."

"They weren't animals!" JD exploded, his face flushing. He tossed the wet cloth down on a rock and spun around. "They were men. You cut that guard open like a deer... like he wasn't human. And a woman... you used your knife on a woman!"

"Would it make ya feel better if we buried Chris out yonder instead?" Vin calmly addressed the rippling waves of disgust lapping around his boots.

"You don't know that," JD accused. "We got there..."

"We only got there because of me takin' a bit o'er skin, JD. And if I hadn't done that, we might never have found Chris. As it was, we barely got there in time . That bastard was fixin' on lettin' dogs rip 'im up. We didn't have time."

"It wasn't right..." JD squared his shoulders and stared coldly at Vin. He wasn't going to back down, not about this.

"In yer eyes," Vin answered coldly with a stare to equal. "Ya ain't wearin' m'boots, kid, don't make the mistake of judgin' me. Not about this, not never."

JD felt his face heat up at the hostile words and felt the blaze in the blue eyes regarding him. Why couldn't Vin just say he was sorry? Didn't he see how wrong he was?

"That guard might have told us where Chris was. You didn't give him a chance. It was like you wanted to butcher him..."

JD saw Vin uncoil like a snake and he moved back instinctively when Tanner fisted his good hand. Even the wounded hand made it into a half fist. What he saw in Vin's eyes was far beyond loathing. He'd crossed the line and realized had it not been for Vin's self-control, he'd be already in a heap on the ground.

"I wanted Chris back alive," Vin said in a slow and very lethal tone. He inched closer, leveling a harsh stare. "I done m'job and got that done. That maggot, totin' piece of shit wasn't gonna say spit. Ya got no sense o'him, not like I do. Ya ain't from these parts , JD. While y'all was livin' with yer ma in a nice mansion back in Boston, I was survivin' on my own out here. This ain't the East, kid and until ya learn t'adjust and adapt, yer gonna risk gettin' kilt. Cause ya can't see that Luis wasn't a man, not the kind that looks ya in the eye. He got off torturin' men, makin' 'em suffer and die slow. And if ya turned yer back on him, he'd have shot ya down. What I done saved Chris's life. And I ain't losin' any sleep over that vulture food I left behind. Chris is worth it."

"Of course he is, I never said that!" JD sputtered. He was losing ground and sinking fast.

"No? Yer arguin' that I shouldda gone soft on that varmit. We didn't have the time, JD. Ya saw how close we come t'losin' Chris. We only got there with a few minutes t'spare. If it was up t'ya t'handle it, we woullda found what was left of him. Them dogs would have ripped him apart."

"I'm just sayin', cuttin' a man open like that isn't right. It's not civilized..."

"Civilized!" Vin barked, his eyes hot. He then scoffed, shaking his head. "Open yer eyes or take a stage back home." He continued to shake his head and walked back to the creek to finish cleaning the rags. "Civilized..." he muttered, "...goddamn shave tail..."

JD stood behind and wondered what to do. He laid the cloths out to dry and thought on the conversation. He didn't agree with Vin's methods but understood better why it bothered him. Vin was right in that they were not from the same background. He had been brought up sheltered in a big city, whereas Vin was born into a much harsher world. None of the others were bothered by what Vin did, so why was he? Maybe a part of him wished he had the guts to do what Vin did. He wondered if he would ever adapt. How many times did Buck tease him about being 'green'?

"I'm headin' back," Vin stated, laying out the remaining cloths. The hot sun would dry them out and they could be picked up later. As he moved abreast of Dunne, the youth's voice stopped him.

"Vin?" JD offered along with his hand. He saw the tracker pause, eye him and the hand carefully, but made no move towards him. "I didn't mean to insult you. And you're right about me not understanding your ways. But it's not my fault I didn't grow up here. You don't think a part of me envies that you lived with Indians? That you know their language and culture and move easily among them? You read the wilderness, you shoot better than anyone I've ever seen or read about. You can pick out the bad strangers when they come into the saloon before they say a word and... well there's a lot of stuff you do without trying because you had to grow up in the wilds out here. But I didn't, Vin, and that's not my fault."

Vin listened and heard something else between the words. JD had heard what he said and accepted the difference. Maybe in time he would come to understand better. He moved closer, eyeing the open palm and took it, giving it a tug and nodding his head.

"We ain't gonna see eye t'eye on this," Vin decided, "and that's okay. We put it on the table, that's what's important."

"This is what's important, Vin," JD lauded of the handshake. "What was bothering me the most was a fear I'd lose you. You're a good friend, Vin and I have learned a lot from you. I learn something new just about everyday. I might never have the courage you do, but I think I've grown up some since I came here and a lot of that is due to you."

"Ya ain't short on sand, kid, that's fer sure," Vin complimented of the youth's grit and grinned. Then he ruffled the dark hair and cast his arm on JD's shoulders. "Come on, let's go show them old timers how it's done!"

Buck had gone in the house to get changed and was in the doorway about to join Chris. He saw Dunne and Tanner returning from the woods. He couldn't be sure, but there seemed to be an ease in their walk and the body language dictated that something had changed. He was glad of that, it bothered him that JD was upset with Vin. He knew Dunne wouldn't open up about it, and was glad Vin acted. Whatever transpired, it was better now.

"I'm glad that's done," he stated. "The kid's been festerin' that wound since Mexico."

"He learned a lesson the hard way," Chris commented, appearing from the side of the house. "That's never easy. He's a good kid, he's gonna have to learn to be more flexible."

"I hope so," Buck said.

Buck watched as JD and Vin worked with the horses, wishing he was out there with them. His wounded side was still healing so he had limited duties. He was able to walk them and help with the harnesses but that was about all. The loss of blood had him weary by the afternoon. Chris stepped onto the porch with two mugs and nodded to the rockers close by.

"That's good timing," Buck said, stepping onto the porch and easing himself down into a chair. "Them young-uns are wearin' me out."

"That's cause you're old," Chris commented, handing him a mug. He reached down by his boots and drew up a jug, filling each mug.

"Damn!" Buck coughed when he took a sip. His throat burned and his eyes teared up. "Where'd you get hard cider?"

"Craig sent it back with the horses. Angus does know how his way around a still."

"That old man is something," Buck agreed of the elder MacTavish, close to eighty. Chris looked worn and Buck wasn't sure why. He was getting better, even Nathan was surprised at how quickly his wounds were healing. "You okay, Chris?"

Chris didn't answer right away, he took a sip of cider and leaned forward, eyeing Vin gentling a beautiful chestnut. "I don't know, Buck," he sighed hard, rubbing his eyes. "I'm home, I'm in one piece, all of you are okay. But..." He sighed hard, his eyes going to the horizon. "I'm empty. "

"Well, hell, you damn near died, that'd take the steam outta most men. It's only been a couple weeks Chris. We didn't expect you'd be up for awhile yet and look at you."

"I'm either too tired or my nerves are on edge. I'm not hungry, I can't sleep..." He sighed hard and shook his head. "Sometimes it comes back when I sleep." The resignation in his voice was all too apparent. "Everything is gray, Buck, I got no color."

"You want to talk about it?" Buck pried gently, knowing Larabee usually kept his demons locked inside.

"No, I want to forget it."

"Well, if you need to get it out, you can bend my ear."

Chris turned then and gave his friend a deep smile. Buck was solid that way and just knowing that meant alot.

"Speaking of tired." Buck nodded at Vin who had just taken a seat on the corral fence and was yawning and bobbing his head.

"He's not himself yet," Chris defended. "His back is bothering him and that hand looks like shit."

"Doesn't slow down his eating, you outta see the pancakes and ham them two put away this morning."

Vin was tired. It was all he could do to stay awake. As if sensing this, JD offered to finish up and Vin gratefully nodded. He slipped off the fence and headed for the water pump. The pump was at the corner of the porch right where Buck and Chris were sitting.

"Sleepin' on the job, Vin?" Buck teased, tapping the jug for Chris to fill his mug.

"At least I'm workin' up a sweat," he shot back at the two older men. He lifted the dipper and took a good long drink.

"Craig said you left by nine," Chris suggested, pouring a refill for himself as well. He eyed Vin's worn out features hard. "You get to the cabin okay?"

"Yup." Vin took off his kerchief to wet it and then unbuttoned the top buttons on his sweaty shirt to apply cold water to his neck and chest.

"Damn!" Buck exclaimed, getting up and leaning over the fence to get a better look. He tugged on Vin's shirt, revealing a marked neck. "No wonder you're catchin' flies. You dog you! You were givin' the boys a ride last night."

"Fuck off, Buck," Vin snarled, ducking away.

"Wolf get you?" Chris asked with a sly grin.

"Mind yer business," Vin snapped, tugging his collar up

"I am minding my business." Chris grinned, stretching his long legs out and hoisting his mug. "Sitting on my porch." He and Buck shared a grin. "Just what were you doing?"

"Bareback riding?" Buck guessed and Vin turned almost as red as the apples in the basket by the door. He turned to Chris, "And you were worried about his back. Looks like he recovered pretty good."

"Could be he was lyin' back like a sated lion and the lioness was doing all the work," the blond teased.

"Least I earned m'yawns," Vin defended. "More than I can say fer y'all."

"I reckon you did at that," Buck chuckled. "You're really sweet on her, aren't you?"

Vin paused by the apple basket, selected an apple and rubbed it on his shirt, before biting into it. He ambled over to where his friends sat and found a seat on the bench that was on the fenceline between the two. He was able to lean back and stretch his legs out and face them.

"You love her, Vin?" Chris asked and the tracker stopped chewing, swallowed hard and then sighed. "You better be careful, then."

"Thanks, Pa, I ain't sixteen!" Vin lashed out and recoiled. "Sorry..." He shook his head and eyed the pretty vista that surrounded them. "I want a future with 'er, I want 'er t'take m'name, walk by m'side..." He turned to Buck then and met the strong dark blue eyes. "I thought on what ya said that night, about talkin' t'the Judge. I had a few minutes with 'im in Grovers Pass. He knew somethin' about the case already and said he'd look into it. "

"That's great , Vin!" Buck lauded, pulling up the jug. "That's a reason to celebrate."

"Not yet it ain't," Vin denied, "But I got hope now."

"You hear anything yet?" Chris asked.

"Naw," Vin replied, taking another bite of the apple. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. "It's only been week. I figger it'll be at least a month, given the ground he's gotta cover."

For a few moments the trio sat in silence, each lost in his thoughts.

"You know," Buck said, seeing the pensive look on Vin's face and needing to change that. He stood up, gingerly easing his tall frame around the chair. He wanted to get the seasonings on the steaks and let them sit for awhile. He had to pare the carrots and potatos in the meantime. "It has a real nice ring to it."

"What does?" Vin was suspcious but took the bait, watching Buck walk to the doorway.

"Bucklin Tanner," Buck answered and was rewarded by an apple core hitting his back as he went inside.

Vin took the rocking chair Buck vacated and used his long legs to push off and create a gentle, soothing rhythm. His thoughts were all over the place, thinking on the money the ranch was bringing in and the cloud still lingering over his possible sunny sky. He cast a glance sideways and saw something in the profile he didn't like. He knew Chris had been very quiet since they arrived home. He also knew coming that close to death changes a man.

"Gut still empty?"

"Yeah..." Chris conceded, pouring another cider and one for Vin. "I hate this, Vin. I got no right to feel this way. I'm alive, I'm healing, I'm home. Home... hell, this place is more than that. It's the future I never thought I'd have."

"Ya ain't wood, Chris," Vin chased back, taking a small sip. "Ya bleed, more than most."

"Thanks for that, Vin." Chris turned and met the tracker's soulful blues. "Most folks don't see it."

"They would if they'd try," Vin stated, 'Hell, most folks don't see me at all. They see the hair and the coat and that's all."

"Fuckin' shortsided fools..."

Vin chuckled at that, continued to rock and sip the hard cider.

"I come close t'dyin a few times, I know that feelin'. Can't taste food, don't care iffen it's day'r night, can't sleep all night. Prowlin' around like a damned cat, nowhere t'settle. Like ya can't find yer own skin."

"That's exactly it." Chris blew out a long air of frustration. "It's not gettin' better, Vin." He stood up, stretched and walked to the railing. He grabbed the whitewashed wood and stared at the corral and the mountains. "I want my life back. I want to taste and see and feel again."

"Bucklin's cookin," Vin teased, "Ya might be sorry, if ya get what ya wish fer." Chris didn't smile or turn around, so Vin eased his aching body up and joined his friend.

"Might not be as quick as ya'd like, but it'll come back." He paused and waited a moment, "I'm right here, Chris."

Chris hadn't really talked to anyone about dark dreams and fears that wouldn't leave him. So with the sky coloring a beautiful palate of color, he decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. He turned to Vin, nodded towards the short path to the left, which was a trail to the main road that was too narrow for horses. They often used it to gather wood or hunt small game. Vin nodded back and they set off.

For an hour, Chris quietly spoke of the demons that invaded his privacy at night. The words came out slow and haltingly, with stretches of silence in the wake. He relived some of the horrors he'd suffered in the prison and the cold fear of dying down there without ever seeing any of them again. Vin listened to every hard word and felt the pain. When Chris would have to pause, when his voice cracked and the emotion got too much, the tracker moved closer, giving silent and ready support.

The air chilled and it amazed Chris when he looked up and the sky was darkening. He stood up from the rock he'd been sitting on and eyed the path back. It hadn't seemed that long when they started down it.

"Damn, when did it get dark?"

"Somewheres 'tween hell and back," Vin said, easing off the stiff rock. He had to bend down slightly. "Ain't we a fine pair, 'tween m'back and yer empty gut." He felt Chris's eyes scruntizing him. 'M'okay, cowboy, holster that glare." But he did take the arm that made it's way into his line of vision and used it to straighen up.

"You gonna make it?" Chris asked.

"Yeah... Nathan left a whole lotta weeds in a can in the kitchen. I gotta mix 'em with mud and heat 'em up. Then one of ya gets the lucky job o'plasterin' m'back."

"Least I can do," Chris accepted, walking slower to accomodate Vin. "Damn, Tanner, Angus walks faster with his cane."

"Shut the hell, up," Vin sassed, resisting the pain and effort it would take to pick up the nearest stone and hurl at the cocky blond. "Why's yer drawers on fire?"

"I'm starving," Chris said, "I hope Buck made plenty."

"Starvin', huh?" Vin said, catching up to Chris who had paused. He saw a look cross Larabee's face then, a mixture of amazment, relief and awe. "It ain't gonna go away in a day, but it's a start."

"A Tannerfied one," Chris lauded. "You ever think about hangin' a shingle out in town? Fixin' people's problems?."

"I look like a fuckin' fuzzlebutt t'yall?"

"Guess that's a 'no'," CHris laughed and clapped Vin lightly on the shoulder. "Let's go home."

Home was a place that suddenly seemed warmer and sweeter than it had in a long time.

A week later

Vin ducked into the back of the saloon and hid behind the sidewall. He peeked out twice and watched Inez gathering up carrots, turnips and greens for stew of some kind. Then she took a bowl of pepper strips towards the frying pan. She put the bowl down to toss some oil and herbs on it, and he made his move.

Inez knew before the arms encircled her waist from behind and a pair of naughty lips and teeth found her neck. She knew his scent and as soon as he was close, her heart began to hammer. She turned and melted in his arms, meeting his demanding kiss and dueling hard with his tongue. An inward groan and the rising pressure in the area where their groins met caused her to pull back.

"God, ya make me drunk," Vin said huskily, slipping his hand over the coarse cotton of her shirt where her very willing breast waited. He kissed her softly this time and frowned when his hand moved down her skirt and did not find the slight opening in the front.

"I did not expect you today," she laughed, slapping at this hand. "You are a very naughty boy, Vin Tanner."

"Reckon I need me some wicked punishment," he murmured, moving his hands over the fabric that spanned her firm backside. He pulled her close again, letting her head rest under his chin.

"Well, I 'reckon' that will have to wait. I have too many customers waiting for me and until next week, we can't be together."

"Next week?" Vin frowned and then thought for a moment. "Ya flowin'?

"Yes..."

"Thank God," Vin aired his thoughts and sighed hard. "I was worried... I was t'selfish..."

"Do not worry," Inez reassured. "My grandmother and hers before her had ways to prevent that."

"I want nuthin' more that t'love ya hard enough t'create a lil' one. I want her t'have yer pretty eyes and laugh and that temper..." He grinned when she twacked his backside.

"I love ya s'much it hurts..."

"I know," Inez agreed, running her finger along his jawline and then slowly through his hair. She heard the sharp inhalation and felt the pressure below his waist. That brought an evil smile. "It is a shame, I will me missing you tonight at Tulley's Point."

"Tulley's Point?" Vin frowned, trying to figure out what that grin meant.

She pulled away from him and returned to her stove, offering him a saucy look, "It's going to be hot tonight and the water isso very cool when it touches my skin."

"Dammit, Inez!" Vin hissed, his pants suddenly tighter. "That ain't fair."

"Goodbye, Vin," she giggled, turning him physically towards the door. "I think maybe you and your boys should visit Tulley's on the way home."

Vin dropped the supply order off and had time to kill. He spotted Josiah on the roof of the church just as a hammer slide off the shingles and a curse sailed down along with it.

"Reckon yer boss won't like that."

"He's a forgivin' Father," Josiah said, waiting for Vin to climb the ladder and hand the tool back to him. "What brings you to town?"

"Supplies and such."

"And such?" Josiah grinned, "I guess that would bring me to town too. How's things going between you two?"

"Good," Vin decided, "Mebbe t'good. Gettin' awfully hot around her all the time."

"Well, son, love does have it's pitfalls," Josiah preached and nodded to the other side of the roof. "I was just about to have lunch. I have chili on, how about we break some bread.'

"Ya twisted m'arm," Vin answered, walking around the back.

By the time Vin got all the way around the bulding and inside, Josiah had two bowls on the table and some fresh cornbread.

"Looks great," Vin decided, sitting down and picking up a spoon. "I got some time t'kill, ya need a hand up there?"

"No, I'm good," Josiah answered, sitting across from his young friend. He studied the handsome face and saw some of it's normal complexion returning. "How are you, Vin?"

"M'okay, hand still sasses me a bit, but it'll pass.." Vin buttered his bread, dipped it in the bowl and took a bite. He used some of the cold water poured into a mug to wash it down.

"How 'bout inside?" Josiah prodded. He knew that often mental fatigue wore on a man and Vin Tanner was not a man who shared his sorrows openly. "Any demons bothering you?"

"Whaddya mean?" Vin took a large spoonful and eyed his gray-haired friend

"You've been through a lot, Vin. Nearly losing Chris, I know you suffered every hour he was missing." He hedged and saw a shadow appear and seized it. "And I think you lost yourself a bit during that time."

"I did what I hadta," Vin dismissed, meeting the smokey gaze head on. "I'd do it again. I ain't totin' no hair shirt o'er this, preacher. If yer lookin' fer a confession, yer gonna have a long wait."

"As long as your okay with it," Josiah answered, resuming his meal.

"Ya think I was so lathered up t'git Chris that I didn't care about the nuts and bolts of it? That bothered some o'ya? That ya didn't think the ends justified the means?"

"Not for me to judge, Vin or any of us. That's between you and the Lord. I know you have a moral compass inside of you that's truer than anyone I've ever known. That's enough for me."

"It's been a long time since I knew what family meant... really felt like," Vin answered. "Ya stood by me this whole time, ya nevered judged me, that meant alot, Jo'siah."

"Family, even as fractured as this one is, means a lot to me too, Vin Tanner." He gifted his young friend with a gracious smile then. "And this door is always open."

Vin finished his meal, took the plates to the sink and rinsed them. He paused in the doorway and found those strong eyes again.

"Chris Lar'bee," he rasped, "that's enough fer me, always will be. "

"I'm glad, Vin, because having that eat away at you inside would make you bitter. "

"Ya wear a helluva collar, preacher!" Vin teased and got the wide-toothed grin he set out for. "Ya headed up t'the ranch fer supper tomorra?"

"Could be."

"If it ain't t'much trouble and ya happen t'be passin' Madison's farm, a few of them fat chickens and some fixins might hit the spot."

"If I happen to go that way," Josiah answered, shaking his head as the Texan took his smile and disappeared.

Three weeks later
Hope Ranch

Vin paused on the crest of a hill overlooking a very pretty stretch of green that fed into a rich blue lake. He lifted his face to the sun and bathed in the warm kiss he was showered with. He had a stake in a handsome ranch with men he cared for like brothers, he'd given his heart to a very caring and special woman and life just couldn't be better.

Chris heard the horse approach and turned a side glance. The tracker was supposed to have met him here a half-hour ago for lunch. "You're late."

"I was tied up." Vin climbed down and took the sac off his horse. He rummaged into the saddle bag and got a bottle of whiskey out.

"Really?" Chris grinned and cast a knowing eye to the younger man. "Never figured that with you quiet types."

"Yer sense o'humor is as flat as that hat," Vin sent back. He put the sac down and got a sandwich out. He was about to take a bit when he saw the odd way the blond was looking at him. "Why ya grinnin' like a jackass?"

"You find some private raincloud?" Chris inquired, fingering Vin's damp shirt.

"Paws off," Vin shot back, moving away. "Bath lasted longer than I expected."

"That ass of yours hasn't ever been cleaned so much." Larabee took a chicken leg out and set out to devour it. He knew Vin spent the night with Inez at the little cabin and also knew how tempting the pond out back was.

"You need to quit rushin', Vin. That woman deserves to appreciated slow and easy."

"I managin' jest fine, despite yer advice and Bucklin's." He flushed a bit when the amusement on his friend's face just deepened. "And I didn't rush nuthin'."

"You did if your clothes aren't dry when you're done."

"Write a book," Vin suggested. "Leave m'boys alone, we're doin' fine."

"It's good then?"

"Better than good," Vin answered, eyeing the sun glistening off the lake. "Bein' with her is like breathin' in a rainbow."

"That's my poet," Chris touted tipping the bottle in a salute. He was about to fish out another piece of chicken when a letter landed between his boots.

"Was waitin' at the Post and Telegraph," Vin answered the odd look.

Chris read the return address and grinned. "It's from Greg!" He carefully opened it and began to read.

"How's he doin'? " Vin asked after a few moments passed.

"Things are going well with his father. His brother lives in the big house, he's married and has two kids. So Greg is living in a smaller cottage on the property with his father."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, from what he's says, they're getting close again. The farm is doing great, lots of cash crops. " He smiled than and shook his head. "'And then there is Miss Savannah Jane Smithfield."

"Damn..."

"Twenty years old, honey blond hair and big green eyes..." He chuckled then. "Greg says she's a real beauty and fine 'attributes'."

"Can't go wrong with fine 'attributes'," Vin ageed. "Sounds likes he's plannin' on settlin' down."

"I hope so, he's a good man. I'm glad he found the road home."

"Speakin' of which," Vin waited until Chris carefully put his letter away. "I got a favor."

"Name it," Chris answered without pause. He waited and the stoic profile didn't budge. He knew Vin was a long thinker. "You should have packed dinner too."

"Shut up!" Vin snapped and sat up, leveling a open-eyed stare at Chris. He slowly pulled a wire from his pocket. "The Judge sent word."

"Shit!" Chris swallowed his whiskey too hard and almost choked. "Why didn't you say something right away? What did he say?"

"He's comin' t'town next week. He's got information fer me. I might have t'go back t'Texas and git this all worked out." He paused his eyes never so blue or true. "I got a good feelin' about this Chris..."

"I'm ready to ride, Vin, you know that."

"Yeah," Vin sighed hard and took the arm that shot out, locking onto the brotherhood grip. "Listen, Chris, if this all works out, I get m'name back and such... I was wonderin' about yer cabin."

"What do you mean?" Chris narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out what was causing Vin to fidget. "Just say it, Vin."

"How much do ya want fer it?"

"Don't insult me, Vin." Chris said harsher than he planned and saw Vin flinch. "How about instead, I help you put an addition on, open up that kitchen, add a couple rooms on as a wedding gift?"

"Puttin' the cart before the horse, cowboy," Vin replied softly, subconsciously rubbing his neck. Just that quick, a strong hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist, pulling it down.

"I ain't gonna let that happen."

They were only six words but six that meant more to Vin Tanner than he could ever express. He knew without a doubt that Chris meant it and that was all the difference. Whatever happened in Texas, he would walk taller on those words alone.

"Alrighty," Vin agreed.

"After all, you're gonna need a lot of space to chase Bucklin Tanner around the place."

Vin laughed then, finding that place over the horizon with his keen gaze. "I'd prefer Maria Rose after her ma and mine, mebbe call her Molly."

The wistful appeal in Vin's voice caused a lump in Chris's throat. He knew that the road to Texas would not be easy and he hoped that the road back would be a bright one. For he wanted nothing more than to see the wonder of new fatherhood crash down on Vin when that first baby came. He took a swig from the bottle and handed it to the pensive Texan.

"Here's hopin' you catch that rainbow, Vin."

"Thanks, cowboy,"

It was early, the new sun was barely awake but Inez had felt a strong desire to be in church. This morning, Vin, Chris and Buck were riding with Judge Travis back to Texas to settle the matter of Vin's murder charge. She was never so scared in her life. What if it didn't go well? What if despite the Judge's reassurances, Vin didn't come back to her? The image of him swinging from a rope, his beautiful face twisted and black and that precious and giving heart stilled forever caused a deep anguish inside. So she prayed, harder that she ever had before and accepted the peace she always found in God's house. She was walking back to the boarding house when Vin rode up.

"Vin?"

He took her breath away. He was wearing a new cream colored shirt and fawn pants. His hair was clean and loose, blowing over his shoulders. He didn't smile, but the intensity of the blue eyes stopped her in her tracks. He didn't say a word, rather he offered his hand and she took it. He pulled her in front of him and they road outside of town to a pretty vista that overlooked the meadow and water.

They sat for some time, she nestled against his strong chest, feeling his heart beating against her. The sensation of his warm breath on her face, those long fingers stroking her back and that wonderful heart caused her to shiver.

Vin felt her shivering and moved a bit, to pull her shawl tighter around her. Then he settled her back against him. He could sit like this forever, with the love of his life enfolded in his arms.

"I jest wanted t'feel ya close... I needed t'feel yer heart."

"We should go back, it will be time to leave soon."

He winced at the catch in her voice and tipped her face up, not surprised by the tears. He used one finger to brush them away and then kissed her deeply.

"I was gonna wait until I got back, but..." Vin paused, seeing the depth of love in those magnificent brown eyes. "Inez? When I git back, when I'm totin' m'name again, I want ya t'share that name and all that goes with it. I want a hunert thousand sunrises t'share and love ya under an endless field of stars. Will ya marry me?"

"Si, si, my sweet Vin," she choked, letting him draw her up and sharing a spectactular kiss that would have to last for a long time. "I will wait for you, until that time."

"Until that time," Vin vowed, thinking on all that he had to be thankful for, both now and what was yet to be. The ranch, the six brothers he'd found and a future with the woman he loved. That all started with the journey to Texas.

The End