Choices

by Sue Salter and Heather Hillsden

I talk but I am not listened to.
I exist but I am not seen.
I am drowning in tears,
I dwell in a sea of sadness
Darkness falls; there is no escape for me.
- C.A.S. Sarling

Part One

Chris Larabee glanced across towards the jailhouse as he rode down the main street of Four Corners on his way to the Livery. It was approaching noon, which probably meant that his fellow peacekeepers would already be gathering at the saloon, and having ridden hard from the previous nights camp he felt more than ready for a cold beer. He had just returned from Fort Ripley after escorting three Army deserters back for court martial, and had been pleased that the eight day round trip had gone without incident.

As the gunslinger got closer to the stable he saw Nathan Jackson coming down the steps of the clinic, and the tall healer paused as Chris nodded in greeting. Drawing level with the bottom stair the gunslinger pulled his horse to a stop so he could talk to the other man.

“Chris? Where’s Vin? Lord, I hope ya’ll ain’t gonna tell me that y’had some trouble?" Nathan knew that both men had been handling the escort duty between them, and the sudden concern in his question made the older man immediately shake his head.

“Nope. Don’t get all fired up, Nathan! Everything went fine. In fact, Vin and me had a real pleasant trip back once we offloaded those yahoos but he decided to head out to Nettie’s place ‘cos she needed some repairs doing.” Nathan grinned, but the relief was plainly apparent on his face and in his next statement.

“Glad t’hear that, Chris! How long is he likely t’be gone?”

“Coupla days mebbe. But you know how Nettie likes to feed him up – reckon she has a special baking session just for Vin!” The older man smiled ruefully.

“Sounds ‘bout right!” Nathan chuckled, as he thought of the young Texan’s liking for the plainswoman’s home cooking. Chris casually glanced around the nearly deserted street as the healer reached the bottom of the staircase.

“You heading for the saloon, Nathan?”

“Reckon I might get summat in m’stomach soon, but I need to pick up a parcel from Mr Watson first. I’ll see ya there later, huh?” The healer gave his friend a distracted wave as he sauntered off in the direction of the General Store.

It did not take Chris long to get his black gelding rubbed down and fed, and throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder he made his way to the saloon.

On entering the building Chris’ hazel eyes swept around the room. It was fairly crowded considering the time of day, but he noticed Buck Wilmington lounging against the bar and the gunslinger made his way across to join him.

“Hey, Chris. Just got back?” Buck signalled the barkeep for two more beers, and then turned expectantly to face his oldest friend. Chris picked up his glass, and took a long swig of the cold drink.

“Yeah. Vin had some business at Nettie’s, so he’ll see us in a few days.”

The two peacekeepers stood in silence for a while, slouching with their backs to the counter as they assessed the occupants of the room, their caution through years of experience spent caught up in dangerous situations never quite leaving them.

“Any trouble in town since we’ve been gone?” the gunslinger asked.

“Had us a few drunken trailhands fighting last night. They were just lettin’ off steam really, so we tossed ‘em in the cells to sleep it off. Those boys were still snoring fit t’bust when I left the jail earlier, but they’ll soon sober up when JD gets ‘em to swilling out!” Buck grinned widely at his friend and Chris snorted in dismissal.

“Yeah. Vin and I saw the herd ‘bout five miles out of town, but the trail boss said they’ll be moving on soon.” Looking around once more, the gunslinger’s attention was drawn to a corner table where a game of poker was being played, and it came as no surprise to the peacekeeper when he noticed that Ezra Standish was the man dealing the cards. Josiah sat to the gambler’s right, but Chris frowned curiously at the stranger seated next to the ex-preacher.

The middle-aged man was of a similar build to the gunslinger, with short dark blond hair slightly greying at the sides, and although his clothing was fairly nondescript Chris’ gaze came to rest on the ornately carved, brown leather gun belt around the man's waist. It was obvious from the stranger’s low-tied rig that he was a deadly exponent of the art of triggernometry, and although the man appeared to be relaxed as he played his hand, Chris recognised the telltale signs of vigilance exhibited by the newcomer.

“Who’s that playing poker with Ezra and Josiah?”

Buck looked around, his own eyes following his friend’s inquisitive stare. “Will Grainger. He’s one of the fellas working for that new family that's bought the old Macready place. He’s been in town for a few days getting the feel of the place. I think mebbe he’s looking to hire some help.”

Chris nodded slowly, and took a thoughtful sip of his beer. He recalled Mary Travis telling him about the newcomers several weeks ago, and there was little disguising her enthusiastic interest at the prospect of the well-to-do immigrants arriving in Four Corners.

"They're here?"

"Yep. They arrived the day after you and Vin left. They seem like a real nice family." Buck suddenly laughed. "Even Nathan was impressed. 'Course that could have been because one of them was a for-real doctor!"

Ben Richardson and his family hailed from the St Helens region of Liverpool, England, and had made their money through three generations of the tea trade. Bored with the constraints of life as a merchant, Richardson had brought his young family to the Americas, looking for a new challenge. He had purchased the Macready property at auction, sight unseen, with the aim of breeding Arab horses with the native American stock after obtaining Government and Territorial rights for the venture. Little else was known about the Richardson's despite Mary's enquiries, and Chris had been hoping to meet them when they arrived.

A loud burst of laughter from the corner table drew his attention back to the poker players, and as a smiling Grainger got to his feet and headed towards them Chris turned back to the bar, hunching over his drink. He seemed disinterested in the stranger's approach, but Buck knew that with Chris appearances were deceiving.

“Hey Will. Looks like you’re having a bit of luck over there. It ain’t often that someone gets one over on Ezra, so I reckon you’d best make the most of it.” Buck turned to face the older man as he came to stand beside him, dropping his elbow casually on the bar and Will Grainger gave a short laugh.

“Hmm. It seems like lady luck’s favouring the fair today, so I reckon the next round's on me! You and yer friend ready for another beer?”

Chris frowned as he gave Grainger a sidelong look. It was clear from the other’s accent that he hailed from the State of Texas, and the peacekeeper wondered why the new arrivals needed to employ an evidently experienced gunman.

“Waal, that’s right decent of you, Will,” Buck answered, giving his oldest friend a discreet nudge with his elbow. “Hey, Chris, meet Will Grainger. Will, this is Chris Larabee.”

The Texan held out his hand in greeting, a ready smile on his lips as he regarded the black dressed man with interest. Grainger had heard much about the reputation of this formidable gunman, and the additional information he had gathered since arriving in Four Corners had only increased his professional curiosity. Chris reached across in front of Buck and shook the offered hand.

“Howdy. Hear you’re working for the Richardsons.” The gunslinger let his gaze linger on the man's tied-down holster for a moment before looking back at him. "You don't strike me as the ranching kind."

Buck shot him a quick look, wondering what was going through his friend's mind. Chris might not be the easiest person to get along with but he was not normally this suspicious when meeting someone for the first time without a very good reason. Fortunately, Grainger did not seem offended by the comment and he signalled for some more beers before turning his attention back to the two peacekeepers.

“Yer right. I ain't. Richardson was having some fuss with a coupla hombres on the trail. I jus' happened along and helped him out."

"What kind of trouble?" Chris looked at Buck sharply. The ladies man had not mentioned this to him before.

"Richardson didn't say, but it happened way before they even got to Eagle Bend." Buck could see the accusation in his friend's eyes, but he had been truthful. There had been no further trouble since the family had arrived at the ranch.

"Richardson didn't wanna take any chances, so he asked me to stay on," Grainger explained. "I said I'd hire him a coupla extra fellas who know how t'use their guns."

The gunslinger nodded thoughtfully. As Grainger continued speaking affably to Buck, Chris silently observed the man; there was a sense of familiarity about the Texan that caused the gunslinger’s finely tuned instincts to inexplicably ignite, but it was difficult to pinpoint the reason behind that feeling. The name was not that unusual but he felt certain that he had never met the man before, which made his reaction even more perplexing. Grainger glanced over to the table where Josiah was looking expectantly towards the bar.

“I’d best get back to the game, and give the fellas a chance to win some money off o'me,” he said. "D'ya fancy a quick game, Chris?” The gunslinger shook his head wordlessly, but Grainger shrugged lightly at the younger man's diffidence. “Waal, mebbe later." As he started to move away he paused in front of the black dressed man. "Hey cowboy - d'ya wanna earn some extra dollars?"

Cowboy. Buck visibly winced and tensed as he waited for his normally volatile friend to explode. To his amazement it did not happen. The sidelong glare that Chris flashed disdainfully at Grainger would have had wiser or less brave people hunting for the storm-shelters, but the Texan did not flinch. With a contemptuous sniff Chris turned back to his beer, studying the half-empty glass intently.

"Not interested," he growled. Beside him Buck breathed a sigh of relief.

"Waal, how 'bout yer friend Tanner then?" Grainger blithely offered his jaw for a second free punch. "I hear he's a Texan so he must be pretty handy wit' his gun."

Buck was beginning to think that Will Grainger had a death wish as he saw his friend suddenly stiffen, although the gunslinger refrained from saying anything immediately. Chris felt a fleeting sense of unease as he straightened and turned, his hazel eyes meeting the other’s disarming blue gaze, and for a split second he had a strange feeling of disquiet at the other’s innocuous comment.

“Vin ain't no gun for hire - no more'n I am!" Chris’ scathing reply made Buck look at his friend warily. For a long ten seconds Grainger stared at the gunslinger. He now had the measure of this man, and he knew that he would make a very good friend or an equally dangerous enemy.

"No offence. It was jus' a thought." With a nod of acknowledgement Grainger ambled back to the table to rejoin Josiah and Ezra.

The gunslinger turned and leaned back against the counter, his keen eyes missing nothing as he watched the older Texan in the bar mirror. Picking up his beer Chris took a gulp as Buck leaned closer and hissed angrily in his ear.

"What the hell was that all about? The man was only asking!"

"It was the way he was asking."

"What?" Buck could not believe his ears. He had never seen the gunslinger get so rattled so quickly. "Jeez, Chris - what is it with you? You've only just met the man!"

In all honesty Chris could not answer the question. He could not say why he had taken such an instant dislike to Grainger but there was one thing he was sure about.

"Don't you think he looks kinda familiar?"

"Not especially." The tall peacekeeper threw a swift glance around at the preoccupied Texan, but for the life of him he could not see what Chris was getting at.

"What do we really know about him, Buck?”

Buck Wilmington had spent too many years riding with the gunslinger not to realise that the man was troubled by the presence of Will Grainger.

“Not a lot, but he seems a nice enough fella. He ain’t really been doing much, apart from getting to know folks and hanging around the saloon.” Buck frowned, unsure where this line of questioning was going. “Why?”

“Dunno, Buck. There’s just summat about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

The tall peacekeeper knew that Chris would continue to brood on the subject, particularly as his friend was unable to identify the true cause of his misgivings. However, Buck was not prepared to pursue the matter at this point in time, knowing that the gunslinger needed to find his own answers.

Finishing his beer Chris gave his companion a farewell nod, before re-adjusting his saddlebags and leaving the saloon. Perhaps in the peaceful solitude of the bathhouse some type of explanation might present itself.

+ + + + + + +

"So tell me again about this fella Grainger."

The comment came from Vin as he and Chris approached what had once been the Macready ranch. Two days had passed since Chris' inauspicious meeting with Will Grainger, and he was beginning to think he might have over-reacted. Everyone from Buck and Mary had made it quite clear that the man was pleasant and polite and easy to get along with. Maybe he was being just a little too hasty in his initial assessment and he was allowing paranoia to over-ride his common sense.

"There ain't much to tell. The man's a Texan and he's working for Richardson." That was really all Chris did know and before Vin could question him further he spurred his horse forward, pushing the black to a steady lope.

Even before Mary had made the request, Chris had decided to pay a visit on the Richardson family and check out Grainger's claims about the trouble they were supposed to be having. He was also curious to meet these people for himself. It was Vin's suggestion that he accompany him to 'ride off some of Nettie's fine cooking'!

As they neared the sprawling homestead, Chris noted with approval that Ben Richardson was not a man to take things for granted. As they rode up the dusty trail and under the archway into the main yard the two peacekeepers could see at least half a dozen hands busy at work.

"Impressive."

There was a faint hint of envy in Chris Larabee's voice as he regarded the ranch buildings. The main house was built in the style of a Mexican hacienda, although it was a touch more modest than the grandiose sizes of those across the border. The flat-roofed, two-storey structure had a porch running along the entire front, surrounded by a low stone wall, while several smaller balconies lead off of some of the upper rooms. To the left of the house was a large barn, with a smaller building just to the side of it. The main corral ran at least forty feet from the front end of the barn, and the four horses within the enclosure would have caught the eye anywhere. Beyond the barn was a long low building, and Chris guessed that this would be the bunkhouse.

"Chris."

The gunslinger did not need Vin to point out the man on the roof of the house, a rifle cradled in the crook of his arm.

"Looks like Grainger was telling the truth." He had also noticed that every man working around the property had his gunbelt strapped on, an unusual practise this close to the house.

"Howdy Chris, Vin." The greeting came from a young man fixing the top rail to the large corral adjacent to the barn.

"Hey, Jack. How long you bin working here?" Vin grinned at the man he recognised from town. Obviously some of the local people were finding gainful employment.

"About a week now."

"Had any trouble since you've been here?" Chris wanted to know, but the man shook his head.

"Nope. It's been real peaceful," Jack Chambers replied.

Chris glanced around again; an older man was just climbing down from the water tower with a hammer in his hand, and beyond him he could see a young woman removing clothes from the line beside the main house.

"Where can I find this fella Richardson?" Chris asked, and was surprised when the man holding the hammer replied.

"I'm Ben Richardson. What can I do for you?"

Chris raised one eyebrow as he glanced at Vin before swinging down from his black. Gripping the reins in his left hand he held out the right to the man in front of him.

"The name's Chris Larabee. This is Vin Tanner." He indicated the tracker as he too slipped from the saddle to stand beside his friend. "We help keep the peace in Four Corners."

"I'm very pleased to meet you. I've heard a lot about you, Mr Larabee." Ben Richardson spoke with an unusual accent, but his smile was warm enough and his handshake was firm. He looked to be about the same age as Chris but slightly shorter and stockier, and his hair was dark - almost black - and curling above his ears. Laughter lines crinkled about his brown eyes as he turned to Vin. "You too, Mr Tanner. It's just a pity Will isn't around at the moment because I know he's been looking forward to meeting you."

"Me?" There was a wariness in the tracker's voice. Vin could not help but wonder whether Grainger was seeking him out for a particular reason.

"Unfortunately he's gone into Eagle Bend to collect some supplies, but I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for you two to meet." Richardson dropped the hammer into the toolbox and rubbed the dirt from his hands. "So what brings you two gentleman out here?"

"Grainger mentioned you were having some trouble." Chris looked pointedly at the armed men. "I see you're already prepared."

The Englishman shrugged. "It's merely a precaution. I've heard a lot about the West, and I need to protect my family until we get used to things."

"Seems to me like you're going about it the right way, Mr Richardson," Vin stated.

"Please - call me Ben. But first, can I offer you some refreshment. Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee'll be fine." Chris found himself warming to this forthright Englishman. When Mary Travis had first told him about the Richardson's imminent arrival he had been a bit sceptical. He had met a number of wealthy people in the past and had found them to be rather shallow and superficial. Ben Richardson was a pleasant surprise. He had realised that when he had seen him working alongside his men.

"Jack? Can you take care of the horses?"

"Sure thing, Mr Richardson."

As Chambers stepped forward to relieve them of their mounts Chris found his gaze wandering once again to the horses in the corral. Richardson smiled. He could see that the gunslinger had an appreciation for fine animals.

"What do you think of them? Four of the finest Godolphin mares you'll see this side of Newmarket!"

Chris had no idea what Richardson meant by 'Godolphin mares' nor where Newmarket was, but he could hear the excitement and pride in the man's voice and he had to agree that he never seen anything finer.

"They're beautiful alright," Chris enthused, walking across to the corral for a closer look. A pale grey mare stepped forward, poking her nose through the rails and snuffling softly into the gunslinger's outstretched hand. "They'll make a good base for breeding some fine stock," he said, rubbing his fingers gently down the wide forehead and across the finely shaped muzzle.

"I think so." Richardson smiled; Chris Larabee was a man after his own heart and he had one more thing to show him but that would have to wait for a while. "Come on. I'd like you to meet my wife."

They followed Richardson onto the porch of the house, but instead of going in he lead them around to the side of the building where the young woman had just finished unpegging the last of the laundry. For the first time both peacekeepers noticed the small child gripping hold of her apron strings and hiding behind her skirt.

"Amy, I want you to meet Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. They're the lawmen in Four Corners. Gentlemen - my wife, Amelia."

Amelia Richardson looked to be at least ten years younger than her husband. Of medium height she was slight without being thin, and long whisps of red-gold hair escaped from the green ribbon that held it back from her pretty, freckled face.

"Mrs Richardson." Chris touched his hat politely, and the woman shot her husband an embarrassed look as she wiped her hands on her apron and tried to tuck the strands of hair back into place.

"Pleased to meet you both. Won't you come inside?" As she bent down to pick up the washing basket Vin stepped forward.

"Let me get that fer ya, ma'am." Before the woman could protest the tracker had scooped the basket up, but as he straightened he saw a pair of wide blue eyes staring at him from beneath a mop of blonde curls. Vin smiled; the little girl had her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth whilst she clutched a rag doll in her other hand, her expression coy as she regarded the tracker. "Hey there!" he said softly, but the girl ducked back behind her mother. Amelia Richardson reached down and laughed, gently drawing her daughter out from behind her.

"Emily, say hello to Mr Larabee and Mr Tanner." Blue eyes gazed up at each man in turn before the defiant answer came.

"No!" Dropping her rag doll she fled into the house. The four adults laughed as Richardson retrieved the doll.

"I'm sorry about that," he said. "She's not normally that shy."

"Reckon Chris musta scared the poor li'l thing." There was a mischievous glint in Vin's eyes and he prepared to duck as he made the statement, but the gunslinger was content to simply give him a half-hearted glare as they followed the Richardson's inside. Just as Ben closed the front door a young man came down the hallway towards them, the little girl in his arms.

"James! We have visitors!" Amelia exclaimed. "This is Mr Larabee and Mr Tanner."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm James Owen."

"Amelia's brother in case you hadn't realised," Ben said with a smile. He had seen the startled look on the peacekeepers faces but he was used to that kind of reaction when people met the twin brother and sister for the first time. James was a little taller but he had the same red-gold hair and blue eyes as Amelia, and their features were remarkably similar. "He's also an excellent doctor." The young Englishman looked a little embarrassed by his brother-in-law's words as he set his niece down on the floor.

"So I heard." Chris had learned from Nathan that James Owen had only recently qualified before coming to America, and the healer had expressed his interest in talking with him further.

"We were just about to have some lunch," Amelia stated. "Would you care to join us?"

Vin glanced at Chris, seeing the dubious look on his face, and he made the decision for them. "That's mighty nice of ya, ma'am, but we wouldn't t'put ya t'any trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble," she assured him brightly. "I'll just ask Mrs Roberts to fetch two extra plates."

By the time Vin and Chris had eaten lunch with their hosts the four men were on first name terms. They had also met the Richardson's older child Edward when he had taken a break from his schooling, although his governess had declined to eat with the peacekeepers, much to Ben's amusement.

Richardson had gone on to explain to them how he had acquired the property, but it was the trouble they had encountered on the way out and the discovery of a warning note nailed to the front door when they arrived that disturbed Chris the most because it meant that the threat had followed them West.

"I must tell you that Will Grainger has been an absolute godsend! When those ruffians tried to ambush us I dread to think what might have happened if he hadn't come along. Amy and the children were terrified, and poor James was so nervous he could barely hold the rifle!"

Richardson made the observation as the two peacekeepers got ready to leave. As they headed towards the main barn where their horses had been put up for the last hour or so, Richardson suddenly indicated the smaller building.

"There's something I'd like you to see before you go," he said, sliding open the door. As they stepped inside Chris whistled appreciatively. The horse in the loose box turned to face them, ears pricked as he regarded the newcomers with interested curiosity.

"That's one helluva stud!" the gunslinger breathed, keeping a respectable distance between himself and the Arab stallion. The bright bay coat gleamed like burnished copper, and the black mane and tail were fine and silky. Dark liquid eyes studied them intelligently, and Vin could not help smiling at the rapt expression on Chris' face.

"He's called 'Mersey Prince'. I thought you'd like to see him."

"He's a real beauty." Chris took a cautious step forward and offered his hand slowly and the stallion arched his neck, nostrils flaring as he tested the new scent.

"This is what the greedy devil's after." Richardson held his hand out, and the Arab delicately lipped the sliver of carrot from his palm. "We may have made our money from tea but horse breeding is my real love. Near where we lived they hold an annual horse race called the Grand National. I remember my grandfather taking me when I was a small boy, and from that moment all I wanted was to have one of those Thoroughbreds. Now I've got the chance to breed my own." There was genuine passion in Ben Richardson's voice as he spoke and Chris was in total agreement.

"Good luck to you, Ben." The gunslinger offered his hand and Richardson shook it firmly. "You've got a real good foundation sire there and the land hereabouts is just fine for raising horses."

"So I've been told." Richardson looked wistful as they exited the stallion's box. "I've got the deeds showing me the boundaries but the truth is I'd really like to get out and have a proper look. Grainger and I were thinking of riding out in a week or so once we've got the house organised, but ideally I need someone who knows the area."

"I'd be happy to show ya around," Vin volunteered, and Chris did not know why his guts suddenly knotted in trepidation at the tracker's words.

"Thank you. I may just take you up on that offer."

As the peacekeepers collected their black geldings from the main stable Vin suddenly turned to Chris.

"What did ya do with that letter Mary gave ya?"

"Letter?" The gunslinger looked blank for a moment then he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope which he handed to Richardson. "Oh yeah. Mary wants to know if you and your family will have Thanksgiving Dinner with her and Billy."

Ben tore open the envelope and read the invitation before looking back at Chris. "Will you and Vin be there?"

"Well, we've been asked but - " Chris never had the chance to finish his sentence before Vin jumped in with both feet.

"I ain't one fer all them fancy dinners but Chris'll be going." The gunslinger turned right round and stared at Vin in disbelief and Richardson tried hard to hide his smile at the guileless expression on the young Texan's face.

"Tell Mrs Travis we'll be delighted to come. I guess you and I'll have a lot more to talk about, Chris." Richardson offered both men his hand as they swung into their saddles. "Thanks for stopping by. It's been a real pleasure."

"Don't forget, if you have any more trouble... " Chris let his words trail off as Ben nodded.

"Don't worry. You'll be the first to know!" he stated emphatically. The gunslinger nodded and turned his mount back towards town, Vin at his side.

Ben Richardson watched as they rode under the archway and he was a little puzzled. Will Grainger had told him that Chris Larabee seemed a most unfriendly man, but he had not found that at all. On the contrary, he had found both peacekeepers's to be amiable and genuinely interested in his future plans. The gunslinger in particular seemed to share his own passion for fine horses, and he could see that forming the basis of a solid friendship.

The ride back to town was conducted in silence for the most part. Vin was content to let Chris bury himself in his own thoughts; he had seen the wistful expression on the gunslinger's face when he and Ben Richardson had been talking about breeding the Arabs, and he knew that his friend had been thinking about what might have been in his own life. However, it was not until he chanced to look closely at his taciturn friend that he saw the troubled frown on his brow.

"What's up?"

"Huh?" Chris had been so pre-occupied that it took him a moment to realise that the tracker had spoken. His mind was turning over the proposed trip by Vin, Richardson, and Grainger. The gunslinger had tried hard to convince himself that his snap judgement of Grainger may have been misplaced, but as soon as he heard the Englishman speak his name all his distrust had come flooding back.

On the other hand he had found Ben Richardson extremely easy to get along with. Granted, they had a passion for horses in common, but it was more than that. The frank Englishman was simply likeable, and Chris could not understand how he could react so differently towards two strangers within the space of a few days.

"What's eating ya? I thought ya liked Richardson."

Chris hesitated for a moment, trying to work out how to phrase his reply without sounding too paranoid.

"It ain't Richardson," he finally admitted. "It's Grainger. I just don't trust the man."

"Why not? Ya don't even know him!"

"I dunno. It's just - " Chris paused; how could he explain to Vin what he did not understand himself? "There's something about him that jus' don't sit right. If you go on this trip with Richardson just watch your back!"

"I always do, cowboy." Vin had learned to trust Chris' instincts as much as he did his own, and he would certainly keep his warning in mind.

+ + + + + + +

A stiff breeze blew down the main street, rattling half-open windows and setting signs swinging on their hinges. The brightly coloured bunting that was strung between the various buildings snapped wildly in the wind, and there was a hint of rain in the grey clouds that scudded across the sky. However, the residents of Four Corners were not going to allow a minor thing like inclement weather to dampen the Thanksgiving Day celebrations.

James Owen stood staring through the window of the General Store, one hand firmly holding down his low crowned hat. He had left his sister and brother-in-law to check into the hotel with their two children, whilst he went off on an errand of his own. Ever since Mary Travis had issued her invitation, the young Englishman had made a point of finding out all about this particular festive season. He had been surprised to discover that the Americans considered this holiday to be more important than Christmas, and the task of finding a suitable present for their hostess had fallen to him. James sighed. If only he had known about this on his last trip to Eagle Bend. There were a greater variety of shops and goods, and he would have found it easier to find the perfect Thanksgiving gift.

"Doctor Owen?"

James spun round, startled to hear his name called and wondering who could possibly know him in this town. Then a smile lit up his face as he spotted Nathan Jackson hurrying along the boardwalk towards him, and as the tall healer drew nearer he forced a frown of mock severity to his brow.

"What's all this Doctor Owen nonsense? I told you to call me James."

For a moment Nathan was taken aback, but then he suddenly caught the gleam of amusement in the Englishman's eyes, and he grinned in return. Once again he was struck by the uncanny likeness between James and his sister.

"Alright. James it is. I reckon ya'll in town for Mary's Thanksgiving dinner, eh?"

"Well, yes... " James sounded hesitant, and Nathan realised he looked troubled.

"So what's wrong?" he asked.

"I have to buy her a present, and I've no idea what she would like. Maybe you can give me some advice?" he finished hopefully.

"Me?" The healer's voice rose sharply. He was not used to people asking for his opinion on the fairer sex. "I don't have much call to buy things for ladies. Buck's more yer man." Seeing the disappointment on James' face, Nathan relented a little. "Maybe we could jus' go in and have a look."

Virgil Watson looked up as the door opened. He had noticed the young man outside obviously deliberating, and had seen him talking to Nathan. The storeowner gave them a few minutes to wander around while he finished serving a customer before stepping out from behind the counter and approaching them.

"Can I help you, gentleman? You appear to be a trifle lost."

"Yes." Nathan was more than willing to hand the problem over to somebody else. "Maybe you can help the good doctor. James is looking for something for Mary - a Thanksgiving gift."

"Hmmm." Virgil Watson paused for a moment, and then he nodded thoughtfully. "I think I have the very thing. I know Mrs Travis has been admiring this for a while"

The two men followed him back to the counter, and Nathan frowned as the storeowner removed the item from the display cabinet.

"Are you sure Mary likes that?"

"Absolutely. I've seen her looking at it each time she's been in."

"Then she shall have it." There was relief in James' voice as he realised his search was over. "Can you wrap it in something?"

"Of course, if you're sure this is what you want. It is a little pricey."

"No, no - that's fine."

As Nathan watched Virgil Watson carefully wrapping the present in brown paper, he could not help thinking that there was no snobbery about James Owen. He had not bought the object to show off his wealth; he had bought it because he knew that Mary Travis would appreciate it.

Once again Chris could not help thinking that this was a very bad idea. As he hesitated outside Mary's front door, listening to the sound of childrens laughter from inside, all he wanted to do was turn and run. His last family Thanksgiving dinner had been spent with Sarah and Adam, less than a year before they were murdered, and he had not celebrated the occasion since.

"Damn you, Vin!"

The tracker had been pushing him ever since Chris had handed the invitation to Ben Richardson, but at the end of the day it was the gunslinger's own choice that lead him to the newspaperwoman's front door. Again he almost turned and walked away, but suddenly the door was opened, warmth and light spilling out as Mary appeared.

"Oh!" The woman was startled but she recovered quickly. "Chris. I'm so glad you came." There was a faint hint of relief in her voice that said she had had her doubts, but her smile was genuine enough.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he apologised, tilting his head to one side as he gave her a disarming half-smile. "I had a... few things to do."

"You're not late," she lied, pulling a wry face as she showed him in. Chris barely had time to hang his hat on the spare peg beside the door before Billy launched himself from the drawing room.

"Chris!" The gunslinger scooped the boy up so they were face to face. "Now you can carve the turkey."

Chris raised his eyebrows in surprise and threw Mary a sidelong look, a question in his eyes. The blonde woman caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked down, slightly embarrassed.

"Well... you're not that late," she pointed out, as the gunslinger lowered Billy to the floor and ruffled his hair. "But dinner is ready."

If anybody had asked him afterwards, Chris would have had to admit that he had enjoyed the evening more than he had expected. The meal itself was an hilarious affair, with Emily doing her best to boss her older brother and Billy Travis around, even though she was only three. Ben had brought with him a bottle of fine wine for the women, whilst Chris had made free with Ezra's stock of French brandy, and the atmosphere had mellowed accordingly.

It was Amelia Richardson who finally called a halt to the evening. Edward had been flagging for some time, and Emily was asleep on the sofa, and she made it quite clear that she would like to get her children to bed as soon as possible. Mary agreed; it was only Chris' presence that was keeping Billy stubbornly awake.

"Well, I really enjoyed that," Ben Richardson stated as he shifted his son into a more comfortable position in his arms as they strolled along towards the hotel. "I'm glad Mary liked her present."

Chris laughed softly. When James had produced the brown-paper wrapped parcel Mary had been extremely embarrassed. However, on opening it she had been surprised and touched at the generosity of the gift. She had long admired the beautifully crafted wicker sewing box, with its dainty embroidered lid, but she had considered it too frivolous and too expensive a purchase for herself. James Owen had grinned as Mary and Amelia had enthused over the brightly coloured silk threads inside, keeping to himself the fact that he had had quite a bit of help in choosing it!

"Yes, I'm surprised James made such a good choice!" Amelia commented, looking teasingly at her twin.

"Hey, you know I've got good taste, Lia!" the young doctor replied in mock indignation, using his childhood pet name for his sister.

As they reached the entrance to the hotel the tinny jangling of a piano drifted along from the saloon, accompanied by the sound of raucous laughter.

"Sounds like your Thanksgiving celebrations are going well."

Chris smiled at Richardson's comment, but he was still sober enough to hope that things did not get too out of hand. Nathan and Vin had volunteered for the peacekeeping duties this evening, allowing the others to have a little time off for the festivities, even though that meant stretching their resources to the limit if the merrymaking became too boisterous.

"Yeah, people do love a holiday!" The gunslinger glanced towards the saloon. Once he had said his goodnights to the Richardson's and James Owen he fully intended to join his friends for a drink. He had no doubts that Ezra, Buck, and probably JD would be in the very thick of the wild partying. "I think I'll head on down and see what's going on."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Ben's question took both Chris and Amelia by surprise, but when the gunslinger glanced at the Englishman he could see that there was more than just friendly socialising behind the suggestion. Mindful of the problems the family had encountered on their journey to the ranch, he readily agreed.

"Here - let me take Edward." James took the sleeping child from his brother-in-law, and stepped back as Ben leaned forward to kiss Amelia lightly.

"I won't be too late," he promised, ruffling his daughter's hair as she dozed in her mother's arms, warmly wrapped in a shawl borrowed from Mary.

"Alright, but be quiet when you come back. Don't forget the children will be asleep. Goodnight, Chris."

"G'night, ma'am, James." The two men walked in silence for a while, but as they got closer to the saloon Chris spoke again. "So what's on your mind, Ben?"

Richardson stopped, his face thoughtful and a little sheepish. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, but then he became serious. "I might just be over-reacting. It might be nothing - "

"But?" Chris could hear the word even though Richardson had not said it and he turned to regard the other man, waiting for him to continue.

"The first thing was the feed. The day after you and Vin had been out one of my men discovered that a barrel of linseed oil had been tipped over and had ruined several sacks of grain. Then, just yesterday, young Jack Chambers fell from the loft ladder and broke his arm." Richardson paused and shook his head. "They could simply be accidents... "

"But you don't think so." Chris could see the man was worried even though he tried to pass it off lightly, and the gunslinger himself was not a strong believer in coincidences.

"I suppose the ladder was fairly old. The rung could have snapped at any time." The Englishman was almost musing out loud. "But I was the last one to use the linseed oil, and I know I closed the lid tightly."

"Hmm." Chris had no reason to doubt Richardson's statement, which left the obvious question. "Do you trust all your hands?"

"Trust?" Ben sighed and shrugged. "In all honesty I don't know them that well, but they seem decent enough. They work hard and I've had no complaints from any of them."

"What about Grainger?" Chris had to ask, and he found it impossible to keep his dislike and mistrust of the man out of his voice.

"Grainger? He's the only one I do know. In fact I've just made Will my foreman."

Chris stared long and hard at the Englishman. He should not really have been that surprised; he was beginning to discover that he was the only one so far who seemed to harbour any doubts about the Texan. It was the not knowing why he had these doubts that was beginning to rattle his nerves, and even make him wonder whether his finely honed instincts were misleading him in this instance.

"I'd like to help you, Ben, but without proof... "

"I know." Richardson gave a wry grin. "I'd rather you didn't say anything to Amelia, though. Obviously she knows about Jack breaking his arm, but not about anything else - and I'd sooner keep it that way. There seems little point worrying her unnecessarily."

"She won't hear about it from me," the gunslinger assured him. "Now come on. Lemme buy you a drink." Chris was determined not to let anything, not even the mention of Will Grainger, sour the end of a thoroughly pleasant evening as he led Richardson in search of the other peacekeepers.

As they strode through the batwing doors the gunslinger noticed a broken windowpane, but he was not unduly worried. The atmosphere inside was lively and amiable, and there did not appear to have been any trouble. The place was heaving and it was standing room only, with every seat and vantage point long taken. It took Chris a moment to spot Vin leaning on the end corner of the bar. There was a half-empty beer glass in front of the Texan as he kept a careful watch on the room, but he looked up as Chris and Richardson approached, a quick smile on his face as he nodded in greeting.

"Ezra's looking fer ya," he said to the gunslinger, grinning at the way Chris started guiltily.

"Why? What've I done?" Chris knew exactly why the gambler might be looking for him, but he was not going to admit to anything.

"Dunno, but he was yellin' summat about brandy going missing." The tracker shuddered and grimaced. "Cain't see why he gets so all-fired excited. Cain't stand the stuff meself."

Chris glanced at his friend in amusement, hearing the heartfelt sentiment in his words. As he recalled there had been one time when a certain young Texan had indulged just a little too much in the potent beverage. Richardson stared at the gunslinger curiously.

"That wouldn't have been the bottle... Ah!" This last came as Chris gave him a wolfish grin.

"It was Ezra's Thanksgiving present." All three men laughed, and then Vin signalled to the barkeep.

"Buy ya a drink, cowboy? Ben?"

"Nope. This one's on me." Chris pulled some loose change from his pocket and tossed it on the bar. "What'll it be?"

"I'm fine fer now." Vin knew Chris would not be offended by his refusal; he needed to keep a clear head just in case. He had already seen Buck and JD looking a little the worse for wear, and it was apparent that the gunslinger had also enjoyed his evening, despite his earlier reticence. The tracker was happy enough to show a little abstinence if it meant that his friends had a good time.

"Alright. What about you, Ben?"

"Whatever you're having is fine by me."

Chris looked along the bar; Vin may have signalled to the man serving drinks but another customer had waylaid him. The gunslinger slapped his hand on the counter several times until the harassed barkeep came down to him.

"Two whiskeys!" he demanded, pushing the money forward. "And none of that gut-rot you normally serve. We'll take it from the bottle Ezra keeps tucked underneath!"

"Yessir, Mr Larabee."

Ben Richardson saw Vin shake his head in bemusement, and he could not help smiling to himself as the barkeep hurried to comply with the gunslinger's order. Chris Larabee was someone who knew what he wanted and how best to go about it, and a useful man to have on your side when push came to shove.

"Where's Nathan?" Chris asked the question as the two drinks were placed in front of them, but he had to raise his voice to be heard above the sudden increase in noise.

"At the clinic. Some fool put his hand through the window." Chris winced in sympathy, having seen the jagged shards of glass on his way in, but the tracker carried on. "Reckon the guy was so drunk he didn't even feel it!"

Ben Richardson picked up his glass and raised it in salutation. "It's certainly lively," he commented, taking a sip of the whiskey and finding it surprisingly good. "But I think we need to show you American's a real English Christmas!"

"I think Mary and Billy'd like that." Vin saw Chris' expression change slightly as he replied to Richardson's comment. Thanksgiving was one thing, but Christmas was pushing the gunslinger beyond what he considered his social duties.

"It's an open invitation. You're all invited."

"That's mighty decent of yer. We'll think on it some." Vin's statement placated Richardson as Chris remained silent. The Texan could see that he was deep in thought, possibly contemplating the past Christmas's he had spent with his family. Somehow he got the feeling that the gunslinger would find a way of getting out of the invitation. "Have ya given any more thought about lookin' round yer land?" The sudden change of subject took Richardson by surprise.

"Yes, Will and I were talking about that just the other day. There's still a fair amount of work to be done on the house, but we were thinking maybe in a couple of weeks...?"

Vin nodded. "Yeah, that's about right. Ya need to have a good look before the winter sets in. M'offer still stands." The tracker took a contemplative sip of his beer. "I was kinda hopin' I'd see Grainger in town tonight. Reckon me'n him'd have a few things in common."

Chris drained the last of his whiskey in one swift gulp, and slammed the glass down on the counter, gesturing impatiently to the barkeep to refill it. Ben looked at the gunslinger in consternation, wondering what had caused his change of mood, but he made no mention of it as he replied to Vin.

"I asked Will to remain at the ranch. I didn't want to take any chances while we were away."

The tracker glanced at his fellow peacekeeper, one eyebrow raised in question, and Chris gestured towards Richardson. "Ben's had some more trouble, but I'm sure Grainger's got it well in hand." There was no disguising the sarcasm in his voice, and Ben gave him a puzzled look.

"I get the feeling you don't like Will Grainger much."

"Hell, I don't know him much," Chris responded. Ben waited for the gunslinger to continue, but his brooding silence made it apparent that he had nothing further to say on the matter. Richardson felt a little uncomfortable; he did not want to pursue a subject that would ruin a perfectly good evening so he deftly turned the conversation around to Vin.

"How about coming out to the ranch two weeks from today? We should have finished the repairs to the house by then."

"I'll be there." Vin nodded, draining the remainder of his beer at last. Beside him Chris shifted and cleared his throat.

"Maybe I'll join you," he said, ignoring the surprised look that Vin threw in his direction.

"Fine. You're more than welcome." Richardson tossed back the last drop of his whiskey and held out his hand to Chris. "I suppose I ought to be going. I promised Amy I wouldn't be late," he stated, shaking the gunslinger's hand warmly. "I've really enjoyed tonight. We weren't sure what kind of reception we'd get over here, but thanks to all of you we're starting to feel more at home." He extended his hand to the tracker. "Goodnight, Vin. I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Chris watched as Richardson left, and then took another sip from his refilled glass. He glanced briefly at Vin, aware that the tracker was studying him, and he put his glass down carefully before turning to his friend.

"What?" he demanded.

"I was jus' wondering what's sticking in yer craw about Grainger," Vin replied evenly. Chris dropped his head, staring intently into his glass as he swirled the amber liquid around. The tracker could not understand why his friend was so reticent, unless... "Ya think he's after the bounty! Is that it? Is that why ya wanna come along on this trip?"

Chris looked up, meeting the Texan’s earnest blue gaze. "I dunno, but I won't take that risk."

"Dammit, Chris, I can look out fer meself. Did it fer years afore ya came along." There was no malice in the young tracker's words; it was just that he still found it difficult to believe that someone else could care what happened to him.

"I know that. It's just that I'd feel a whole lot happier if I was there." Chris did not know what else to say. Caring was the price you paid for letting someone else into your life. Vin could understand the sentiment behind the gunslinger's statement, and he appreciated the concern. Pushing his empty glass forward, the Texan gave his friend a half-smile.

"Mebbe I'll take that drink now, cowboy."

+ + + + + + +

"Say, ain't that the Richardsons?"

The observation came from JD as he sat outside the saloon with Buck. Vin stood opposite them, leaning against the upright at the edge of the boardwalk, but he glanced round as the buggy drew level with the three peacekeepers. James Owen sat holding the reins, his sister sitting on the seat beside him. In the back were the two children, seated either side of another woman whom they had never seen before. She appeared to be a few years older than Amelia Richardson, auburn hair pulled back in a severe bun. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, and the stiff set of her shoulders gave the impression that she was not entirely happy to be there.

Fastened to the back of the buggy was James' sorrel gelding, and three of Ben's ranch-hands who had accompanied them into town for a few days leave were ranged behind that.

"Good day, gentleman." James acknowledged the three Americans, tipping his hat in greeting. "Such a fine afternoon, don't you think?"

"Howdy James, ma'am. Reckon the snow'll hold off fer a bit longer yet." Vin still could not understand the strange fixation that the English seemed to have with the weather but he had to admit that even he was surprised by the continuing mildness.

"Glad to hear it. I know Ben's eager to get started tomorrow."

"So what brings you all into town?" Buck stepped forward as he asked the question, touching his hat politely to the ladies, and winking at the children. He let his gaze linger curiously on the auburn haired woman, giving her one of his most disarming smiles, but to his surprise she merely turned away contemptuously.

"Ben thought the ladies might like to spend a few days in town while he's away from the ranch." Owen looked at the peacekeepers, and they could guess the real reason behind Richardson's suggestion. Knowing the trouble he had had in the past, he obviously considered it prudent to have his family safely in town during his absence. "It'll give them a chance to get to know more of the local people."

"Good idea. The town might be small but I think you'll find the folks real friendly," JD enthused.

"It'd be my pleasure to show you ladies around." Buck's offer was made to both women, but he was still looking at the older one in the back, intrigued by her aloof manner.

"Thank you, Mr Wilmington. That's most generous of you." Amelia gave him a bright smile, and he grinned back at her.

"The name's Buck, ma'am."

"Pardon me, Madam." The interruption came from the woman sitting with Edward and Emily, her accent soft and cultured. "Would you like me to walk the children along to the hotel? They need to have their afternoon nap before dinner."

"Thank you, Constance. I'll be along presently." As the woman stood up Buck held out his arms.

"Come along kids!" Grabbing hold of Edward, he scooped the boy up and deposited him on the boardwalk. Emily needed no second bidding; she virtually threw herself into the peacekeeper's arms, and Buck swung her up high as she giggled delightedly.

"Emily! Behave!" Constance scolded disapprovingly, but Buck waved aside her protestations.

"She's fine, ma'am. I've got her." He passed the laughing child to JD and then reached up to help the woman down. With a disdainful sniff she allowed the ladies man to grasp her around the waist and lower her to the boardwalk, but Buck held on a little longer than necessary, gazing intently at her face.

"Do y'know you have the loveliest eyes I have ever seen? It seems a shame to hide them behind those spectacles." Buck's softly spoken comment brought a slight flush to her cheeks, but she quickly regained her composure, brushing his hands aside and adjusting the dainty hat on her head.

"If you'll excuse me, Madam, Doctor Owen." Constance took Emily from JD's arms and glanced down at the boy. "Come along Edward."

"So who was that vision of loveliness?" Buck asked as the woman walked away. He had been truthful when he had spoken about her eyes; the startling silver-grey was a colour he had never seen before, and was one of her most attractive features.

"That was Miss Constance Bartlett," James replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Governess to Edward and Emily." He paused, seeing the surprise on the peacekeeper's faces, and he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Personally I call her the 'Ice Maiden'!"

"James!" Amelia sounded shocked, but there was a smile on her face as she slapped her brother on the arm. "Don't be so unkind. She's very good with the children."

"Oh, I agree. I just wish she'd learn to relax."

"The 'Ice Maiden', hmm?" Buck watched as she disappeared into the hotel, and there was a calculating gleam in his eye. "Maybe I can thaw her out a little."

Vin glanced at JD in amusement, and the youngest peacekeeper rolled his eyes skyward. If there was one thing you could rely on in this world, it was Buck's reaction to an attractive woman.

"So are ya stayin' in town?" Vin asked as James prepared to move the buggy down towards the hotel.

"Yes, but only until the morning. I intend to ride back out to the ranch with you." James was quite looking forward to having some space to himself while his brother-in-law was away. It would give him the opportunity to finally unpack all of his equipment and arrange it in the study that Ben had given him to use for a surgery. "Let me get Amelia and the children settled and maybe I'll see you later in the saloon."

As the buggy pulled away Buck continued to look towards the hotel, his face thoughtful, and Vin elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ya still thinking about that schoolteacher?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Think you got your work cut out there," JD pointed out, but Buck gave them a broad grin.

"You know me, boys. I do so love a challenge!"

Vin smiled and shook his head as he started to walk away. Somehow he had the feeling that it was going to take more than Buck's famous 'animal magnetism' to impress Constance Bartlett.

+ + + + + + +

It was still fairly early, but Vin was already at the Livery, rubbing down his black gelding with a stiff brush. Peso snuffled softly into the tracker's hair as Vin finished off at the withers, and then he reached up and placed the blanket in place over the horse's back. As the Texan stepped out of the stall to get his saddle James Owen appeared in the doorway.

"Morning, Vin."

"I thought it'd best to make an early start," the tracker said, but then he paused in the process of lifting his saddle from the wooden burro.

"You alright?" Owen asked solicitously, seeing the slight grimace on Vin's face.

"Yeah. I musta eat one too many of those enchilados that Inez made last night." James grinned as he watched the Texan finish saddling his horse.

"Yes, they were rather spicy," the Englishman agreed, having sampled them for himself. With the black gelding ready, both men turned their attention to the sorrel in the next stall, but Owen kept darting glances towards the main door.

"Ya expecting somebody?" Vin asked eventually as he slipped the bridle over the horse's head.

"Well, I thought Ben said Chris was coming with us."

"Yeah, he was gonna but he had to go Eagle Bend. Some business fer Judge Travis." The tracker pulled a face, remembering Chris' blistering comments when he had received the telegraph. It was something he could not get out of and his language had surprised even Vin. "He weren't best pleased."

As they led their horses out into the late Fall sunshine only Nathan observed them leaving as he came out onto the balcony above.

"I still can't get over how comfortable your saddles are."

James and Vin had been riding for almost an hour, keeping the horses to a steady trot. The tracker had been quite happy to answer the Englishman's questions about the various flora and fauna they had encountered on the trail, and Vin had made his own enquiries about Liverpool and England.

"They gotta be. Most cowboys are in 'em all day."

"I can understand that." James glanced to his left, seeing the coppery leaves that still clung to the branches of the trees. "I could ride for hours. It's not quite the same as the Welsh borders, but it's still a beautiful country. I think we could be very happy here."

"Yeah, it can be mighty purty 'specially in the Spring," Vin agreed. He was finding the Englishman surprisingly good company; they were of an equal age, and both were genuinely interested in the other's home country. The tracker smiled - Chris would have been amazed at how talkative he was, but he found it easy to converse with the young doctor.

The rest of the journey passed quite quickly, and Vin was surprised when they reached the track leading up to the ranch. He could see the man on the roof, acting as lookout, and another working at a bench just beyond the main corral, but as they dismounted outside the house, Ben came from the barn, wiping his hands on a dirty cloth.

"You made good time," he greeted, holding his hand out to Vin. "Will's not back yet. He's still out at the north pasture. Did everybody get settled in alright?" he asked, turning to James.

"Yes. Lia sends her love. She and the children are spending the day with Mary Travis."

"And Miss Bartlett?" Ben was acutely aware how the governess would feel about being left in a provincial backwater, and James grinned.

"I think Buck has a few ideas about entertaining her."

"What? The 'Ice Maiden'?" Richardson seemed surprised, but he had to smile at the amusement on Vin's face.

"Buck's never been one to take no fer an answer."

"Then I wish him the best of luck!" Ben said earnestly, hanging the cloth over the hitching rail. "Come on in. Mrs Roberts has prepared some lunch for us. We may as well eat before we go."

James took Vin through to the dining room while Ben went to get cleaned up. Charles Roberts, husband to the cook and housekeeper, brought in several trays piled with sliced ham and beef as well as cheese and freshly baked bread. Before he left he set a pot of steaming coffee on the side so the men could help themselves, and when Ben came back he had some sheets of rolled up paper which he spread out on the table.

"I thought we might as well take a look at these while we're eating," he said, using some of the cutlery to hold the corners down. Vin picked up his plate of food and regarded the document, seeing the thick boundary lines of the property marked on it.

"That's a sizeable chunk of land you got there," Vin said, trying to work out the distance.

"How long would it take us to ride around it?" Richardson wanted to know, and Vin shook his head.

"Ya don't need to ride all the way round. If we head fer here, here, and here - " The tracker indicated several points on the sheet. " - ya should get a good feel for yer property. There's plenty of water and good grazing." Vin rubbed absently at his stomach as he studied the map, and he pushed his plate away before taking a sip of his coffee.

"Those enchilados still giving you trouble?" James asked, noticing that he looked slightly off colour.

"Yeah. Reckon I'll steer clear o'them fer a while!"

Before they could continue the discussion they heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and a voice called out.

"Mr Richardson?"

"At last!" Ben breathed, and then he raised his voice. "We're in the drawing room, Will."

Vin straightened up at the sound of the man's name, the discomfort of his indigestion forgotten as Will Grainger stepped into the room. The tracker's eyes narrowed as he studied this man whom Chris had warned him about and appeared not to like or trust. Grainger was as tall as the gunslinger and of a similar build although he was somewhat older, and at the moment there was an easy smile on his face.

"We were beginning to wonder where you'd got to," Richardson said to him.

"It took me a little longer than I figgered," Grainger replied, looking past the Englishman towards Vin.

"Any problems?"

"Nope. Jus' a few mavericks running around up there. Reckon we could add 'em to the stock afore winter sets in."

"Well, we'll worry about that later. First I’d like you to meet Vin Tanner." Richardson put his hand on the older Texan's shoulder and drew him forward. "I know you've been wanting to meet him for a while now."

"Ya could say that." Grainger smiled as he held out his hand to his fellow Texan. "Vin. I've heard a lot about ya."

The tracker nodded in acknowledgement as he returned the handshake, his eyes cautious. Whilst he did not feel any animosity towards the man he would remain on his guard. He had listened to Chris' warnings, but he was prepared to keep an open mind for the moment.

"Vin was just going over the map, trying to work out the best way to go." Richardson could see that the younger Texan was a bit wary and he recalled Chris Larabee's belligerence towards Grainger, and he was in no doubt that the gunslinger would have voiced his suspicions to Vin, unfounded or not. Grainger glanced down at the map and then looked up at Vin.

"I'll leave it to yer judgement," he said. "Ya know the area better'n me, but I reckon here - " he tapped the map " - might be a good place t'stop tonight."

"Yeah, that's an easy four hours ride," Vin agreed. "We should be able to make it before nightfall."

"Help yourself to some lunch, Will. There's plenty here." Ben laughed as he studied the piled trays. "I think Mrs Roberts got a little carried away. Vin, have some more. You've barely touched yours."

"No, I'm fine." The tracker shook his head, unaware of James' scrutiny as he helped himself to more coffee.

"Say, I thought yer friend Larabee was coming along?" Grainger suddenly asked. The comment was casual enough but Vin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end for no apparent reason.

"Chris had some business to take care of fer Judge Travis," the tracker explained.

"Well that's a real shame." Grainger sounded genuinely regretful. "Reckon we got off on the wrong foot. I'd o' liked the chance t'get to know him better."

Vin gave a wry smile. Chris was not a person who was easy to get to know, except in a few extreme circumstances, but at least this man was willing to try. Maybe, just maybe, the gunslinger was over-reacting slightly; Vin certainly felt no danger from the other Texan, but he deemed it wise to remain cautious.

"Well, gentlemen, I really must sort out the supplies for this trip." Ben Richardson glanced at the two Americans with an apologetic smile, and then turned to his brother-in-law. "James, have you got a moment? There's a few things I need you to do while I'm away."

As Ben and James left, Grainger refilled his plate and chewed thoughtfully on the beef while Vin carried on sipping his coffee. The older Texan tried not to look, but he knew that the tracker was watching him. The silence stretched on uncomfortably for a little longer, until Grainger had finished eating and poured himself some coffee.

"So, how long ya been in Four Corners, Vin?"

"A while," the tracker replied cagily, and Grainger eyed him over the rim of his cup.

"Seems like a right peaceable town," he continued.

"Ya could say that, though it ain't always been that way." Vin smiled to himself as he suddenly remembered the first time he had seen Chris Larabee. The memory of that moment of instant trust and affinity always surprised him.

"Reckon them folks've gotta lot to thank you and them other peacekeepers fer. Way I heard it, the town use'ta be pretty wild."

"Yeah, well, we do our best." There was a touch of pride in Vin's words, but he still felt a little awkward making polite conversation with someone he did not know, and he lapsed into silence once more.

Grainger nodded thoughtfully to himself. The young Texan seemed extremely shy and reticent, but he was not put off by this attitude. He was sure he would have ample opportunity over the next few days to get to know his fellow countryman a little better.

Ben Richardson was totally amazed by the young tracker's unerring sense of direction. They had been riding for over three hours, and although the Englishman had referred to his map on several occasions, he had finally given up. Vin seemed to know exactly where he was going without the aid of a sheet of paper, and was able to point out the various boundaries and landmarks without any problem.

"Reckon we oughta think about stoppin' soon," Grainger suddenly said as they crossed a narrow stream, and Ben heartily agreed. Much as he enjoyed riding, he would be the first to admit that three hours in the saddle was beginning to wear him out, and the rest could not come soon enough. "What d'ya think, Vin?"

The tracker jerked his head up and glanced across at the other man. He had not really been listening to the conversation going on around him for the last few minutes, having been slightly distracted by a feeling of nausea. The ache in his stomach had been troubling him on and off all afternoon, but he was not going to let the aftermath of too much spicy food stand in the way of a promised favour. He pulled the black to a halt and glanced around. There was large clear area beside the stream, and a stand of trees a short distance from that, sufficient to give some protection from the elements.

"Guess this's as good a place as any," he agreed, and the three men dismounted and let their horses drink before leading them across to the trees. Richardson dropped his reins and took a short rope from the saddle, stringing it between two trunks to form a picket line. Vin noticed that the Englishman was walking rather gingerly, the stiffness apparent in his posture even though the other man made no complaint.

"D'ya want me to see to ya horse fer ya?" the tracker asked, but Richardson shook his head with a rueful smile.

"No thanks. I can manage. Besides, if I sit down now I don't think I'll be able to get up again!"

Vin had to grin at the Englishman's pained expression, and his admiration for the man went up a few more notches. It was obvious that Ben was not used to quite so much riding but he had made no request to stop, simply enduring the tiring journey without protest and ready to put the welfare of his horse above his own immediate comforts. It was the sign of a good horseman, and Vin was quick to acknowledge it.

"We'll make a Texan of ya yet!"

"I'll take that as a compliment then," Richardson said as he unfastened the girth and pulled the saddle off the buckskin. Grainger glanced at the tracker, smiling at Vin's comment. In his opinion there was no higher praise that the Englishman could be given. In the few months that he had known him, Will had found Richardson to be fair and more than willing to work hard alongside his men, and he was not at all what he had expected. Grainger continued to eye the younger Texan as he removed the tack from his own horse, and he could not fail to notice the awkwardness in the tracker's movements, and his keen ears caught the sharp intake of breath as Vin swung the saddle down.

"Y'all right, son?" he asked solicitously as the tracker remained hunched over, his hand rubbing at his stomach.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a stitch is all."

"Alright. It'll be dark soon, so I'd best get a fire going." Grainger glanced up at the sky. "Reckon it's gonna be a clear, cold night."

"What can I do?" Richardson asked. He was aware that he was slightly out of his depth, but he was not going to let the Texans do all the work.

"Scout around and collect as much tinder as ya can." Grainger swept his arm around the clearing. "It's gonna get pretty cold."

Vin unpacked the coffee pot and walked over to fill it at the stream, tensing at he knelt down, but the ache in his guts seemed to have diminished. He shrugged, thinking no more of it as he went to start the coffee going.

Grainger leaned forward and threw some more wood on the fire. It was fully dark now, a full moon hanging low in the sky as the three men finished their supper of ham and beans, accompanied by Annie Roberts freshly baked biscuits. Ben Richardson was yawning; the ride had given him a voracious appetite and he had cleared his plate with surprising speed, but now he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Why'n't ya turn in?" Grainger advised, noticing the Englishman fighting to stay awake. "We'll probably be makin' an early start in the morning."

"I think I will." Ben had already laid out his bedroll close to the fire, and he eased off his boots before slipping under the blankets. He turned over and gave a contented sigh, drifting off to sleep almost immediately. As he started to snore loudly, Grainger gave a wry smile.

"That'll keep the wolves at bay," he said. He poured himself another cup of coffee and then offered the pot to Vin, but the younger man shook his head as he pushed away his plate. The tracker had barely touched his food, merely picking at it disinterestedly. A coyote yipped in the distance, and Grainger glanced across at the picket line as the horses snorted and moved restlessly.

"Reckon they know it's gonna be a mighty cold winter," Vin pointed out as another wild dog howled at the sky. "There'll be slim pickings fer 'em."

The older man nodded as he gazed up at the moon. The chilly air seemed to emphasise the faint aura that surrounded it, and the stars shone with a jewel-like brilliance.

"Its nights like this that remind me of home." He glanced quickly at Vin as he made the wistful statement.

"Where's home fer you?" Vin looked at him as he asked the question.

"Waal, it used to be a little place not far from San Antone. It's called Devine. Y'ever heard of it?"

"Devine?" Vin frowned, wondering why it sounded so familiar. "Devine," he repeated quietly, and was startled when his thoughts turned inexplicably to his mother. He gazed into the fire, the dancing flames almost hypnotic as the image of a slim, pretty woman with sad eyes surfaced in his mind. He could not see her face clearly but he knew it was his mother, even before he recognised the dainty brooch pinned to her Sunday best frock. Now he realised why the name sounded so familiar. "Divine!" he exclaimed, as he suddenly made the childhood connection between the two words.

"Guess that struck a chord," Will Grainger said. "Y'been there recently?" He had been watching the young tracker intently, seeing the look of concentration on his face as he struggled with his recollections.

"No, not recently," Vin replied slowly. "But I think that's where I lived when I was a boy."

"What about yer folks? Do they still live there?" Those two questions, so casually spoken by an apparent stranger, made Vin's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"What makes ya ask that?" His tone was cagey, unsure now where this conversation was leading.

"Jus' curious." Grainger waved his cup in a dismissive gesture. "Guess I'm just too nosey for my own good," he stated by way of apology. "No offence."

The older Texan lapsed into silence, but Vin's mind drifted back to what he could remember of his childhood. He had not thought about home for a long time, the memories growing vaguer by the day, but Grainger's comments had drawn the last fleeting recollections into sharp focus. Unconsciously he reached into his pocket and pulled out his battered harmonica. Placing it to his lips, he blew a few discordant notes. Somehow he always found it soothing, the sound reminding him of long forgotten songs, back where he belonged. Home was a place he could never return to, but he had few regrets now.

Grainger looked up sharply, watching as the younger man continued to blow on the instrument. Eventually Vin realised he was being observed and he stopped, his cheeks colouring self-consciously.

"D'ya mind?" Grainger held his hand out, and Vin handed over the little instrument without thinking.

"Chris don't care much fer my playin' neither," the tracker said as Grainger smiled. Putting it to his lips he blew a few experimental notes, and then began to play a haunting melody. Vin shivered and the hairs stood up on the nape of his neck as he recognised the unique tune. Grainger grimaced as he hit a wrong note and he stopped, passing the harmonica back to the tracker.

"I'm a mite rusty," he apologised. "But I think that's how I remember it."

Vin closed his eyes against the tide of emotions that rushed in. He had not heard that particular tune played since his grandfather's death; it was something that Henry Tanner had made up himself, and now here was a man - a complete stranger - playing it to him once again. It was almost more than he could take in.

"Where... where did ya learn that?" Vin opened his eyes and stared at Grainger as he asked the hesitant question.

"My father taught it to me."

"Your father? But... " The tracker tried to work out what Grainger was saying, but none of it made sense. The tune belonged to his grandfather and no outsider should have been able to play it. "Who the hell are ya? I don't understand," he whispered in confusion.

"I think ya do, Vin." Grainger regarded him intently. "I'm yer pa." The words were out before he could stop them. The Texan had not intended to reveal his true identity so soon, hoping instead to take a few days to get to know Vin. However, the circumstances and the topic of conversation had conspired to bring about this premature disclosure.

The shattering revelation caused the colour to drain from Vin's face, and he stared at the older man totally stunned as the half-empty cup of coffee slipped from his trembling hand. On the other side of the campfire Richardson continued to sleep, totally unaware of the unfolding drama taking place.

"No... no... I don't believe ya." There was disbelief in Vin's hoarse words, but his heart was pounding with shock and he shook his head as he tried to clear his thoughts.

"How else d'ya think I know that tune?" Grainger pointed out, and then he smiled. "Yer grandpa made it up when ya weren't much more'n a babe. It always seemed to settle ya down."

"But... my pa's dead."

"Who told ya that?" Grainger was being cautious, trying to gauge the younger man's reaction. He was aware how difficult it must be for Vin to cope with this unexpected development.

"My ma, when... " The tracker's voice trailed off as he realised that he really was not sure, and Will Grainger shook his head.

"She wouldn't've told ya I'd died. Not my Beth. She'd've told you I'd gone away mebbe. Truth was, I had. I did a few bad things, and spent some time in prison." He paused and stared at the tracker, and for the first time Vin noticed that the man's eyes were the same blue as his own. "I heard yer ma'd died but I couldn't get to ya. Mebbe I shoulda tried harder, but ya'd been taken in by some folks and was getting on real well. I had nothin' to offer ya 'cept a bad reputation and a whole heap of grief."

Vin had started at the mention of his mother's name and he glared at the other man, seeing the slight smile curving Grainger's lips. The young Texan was totally confused and still more than a little suspicious, and he found it unsettling that this stranger could talk so confidently about a childhood he barely remembered himself. More than that it was the man's casual mention of Elizabeth Tanner that angered Vin; the precious memories that he guarded so jealously of his mother now appeared to be part of somebody else's past as well, and he resented the intrusion.

"Are ya alright, son?" Grainger reached out, concerned by Vin's silence, but the tracker knocked his hand away as he surged to his feet.

"Yer a stinking liar! I ain't yer son! Yer know nothing about me!" he snapped angrily.

"Yer right. I don't," Grainger agreed softly. "But I'd like to." He stood up and faced Vin, dropping a hand on his stiff shoulder. "I'm tellin' ya the truth, boy."

"Get the hell off me!" Vin yelled, his body rigid with tension. "Jus' leave me alone!"

As the young tracker turned and started to walk away, Richardson's voice called out from the other side of the fire. The Englishman had been startled from his deep slumber by the sound of angry words, and he sat up and stared across at the two Texans.

"Will? What’s going - " Ben never finished his sentence as Vin stumbled to a halt and doubled over with a sharp cry of pain, his arms clutched tightly about his middle.

The older Texan had started to follow Vin, and he was right behind him, and it was with the worried gaze of a father that Will Grainger - or rather Will Tanner - witnessed his son's unexpected collapse.

"Vin? What's wrong?" He reached out and grabbed him as the younger man's knees started to buckle, but he could not hold him. Sinking down beside him, he kept a firm hold of the tracker's trembling shoulders.

"Dunno. Feels like I got a knife stuck in m’belly," the young Texan gasped painfully. A faint sheen of sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes were screwed tightly shut as he gritted his teeth against the agony that stabbed through his innards.

"What's the matter, Will?" Ben was suddenly there, crouching down on the other side of the stricken Texan, gazing over his bowed head into the worried face of Grainger. "Is he ill?"

"I dunno. Can ya help me get 'im up?" Between them the two men managed to get Vin to his feet, holding onto him as he swayed unsteadily. "Come and sit down by the fire, boy."

They eased Vin to the ground, and Tanner noticed the way that he sat hunched forward, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he drew his knees up. "Can ya fetch me a blanket?" He made the request of the Englishman as he kept his hand on the back of his son's neck, squeezing gently. Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a small flask, unscrewing the lid and holding it out to the afflicted tracker.

"Ya look like yer could do with a shot of this. It'll make ya feel warmer," he stated simply.

"Ain't cold," Vin muttered through gritted teeth. "Just hurts like hell!" He hesitated for a moment, and then accepted the offered whiskey and took a long pull, feeling the liquor sooth his aching stomach. As he handed the flask back Richardson returned with one of his own blankets, still slightly warm with body heat, and draped it around the tracker's shoulders.

"Ya just rest easy. I'll be right back." Will Tanner moved his hand onto the ailing man's shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. Drawing Richardson to one side, he lowered his voice as he spoke to the concerned Englishman.

"I don't like the look of this. If it’s all the same to ya, I'd like to head back at first light."

"Yes, I agree. I wouldn't want to jeopardise Vin's health for the sake of looking over a piece of land. Maybe James could take a look at him. He mentioned to me this morning that he looked under the weather." Richardson glanced over at Vin as he sat huddled by the fire, a picture of abject misery, and he voiced the question that had been uppermost in his mind for a while now. He had heard the end of the altercation between the two Americans and he was naturally curious. "I don't mean to pry, Will, but what's going on between you two?"

"Don't worry about it, Mr Richardson," Tanner replied, following the man's gaze. "It's just a personal matter. It don't affect no-one else."

Ben gave a quick nod, respecting the American's privacy, but he could not help wondering what had caused the earlier friction between them, nor why Grainger seemed so worried now.

"Is there anything else we can do at the moment?"

"No, I'll keep an eye on him. Why'n't ya get some rest? Ain't no sense in both of us staying awake."

"Alright, if you're sure. I'll say goodnight then. I'll be ready to go at first light."

Tanner was grateful that Richardson had been so agreeable to his suggestion that they return to the ranch, knowing how important this trip was, but his main concern at the moment was Vin. Spreading the young Texan's bedroll out close to the fire, he crouched down beside the young man and touched him lightly on the arm.

"How d'ya feel now? Still hurt?" he asked when Vin looked at him.

"It's a mite easier. Jus' reckon it's summat I ate." If he was perfectly honest with himself, Vin believed that no more than the other man did if his expression was anything to go by. The tracker had been suffering from the nausea on and off for almost a day and that, coupled with the sluggishness of his guts, convinced him that it was more than just the result of eating something too spicy. "I'll be alright in the morning."

Tanner smiled at his son's stoicism. "We'll see. Why don't ya get some sleep?"

Vin took a steadying breath as he tried to gather together his muddled thoughts. He still felt a little nauseous, and the adrenalin rush of these myriad emotions was making him feel light-headed. The apparent concern displayed by this man made the tracker swallow convulsively as he nodded to his companion.

As he eased himself down onto his bedroll, curling on his side to relieve the pain that knifed through his stomach, he doubted whether sleep would be an easy companion this night. Pushing aside his physical sickness, everything he had believed in for most of his life had just been ripped apart, and his feelings were pulling him in every direction. A thousand questions buzzed through his brain but they would have to wait for now. Until he was able to think clearly he doubted whether he would be able to pick out the truth in the answers.

Part Two

It had taken longer to reach the Richardson's ranch than Will Tanner had anticipated, and as the three riders approached the mile long track leading to the main house the older man gauged the time to be approaching eleven o’clock.

Tanner and Ben Richardson had seen the tracker’s condition deteriorate rapidly during the night and it was clear to the two men that Vin was in desperate need of immediate medical attention. After a short discussion it had been decided that they should take the tracker back to the house rather than into Four Corners as soon as possible; the ranch was less than a mornings ride away, and more importantly had a qualified doctor in residence. There was no hesitation in abandoning the survey and the three men had left immediately after sunrise.

With a fervent sigh of relief at the sight of the worn track, the older Texan tapped his heels firmly into his horse’s sides as he urged the animal on faster, knowing that the even and well-travelled road would allow for better progress. In his right hand he gripped the split-end reins from Vin’s mount, glancing worriedly at the other man as he clicked his tongue in encouragement to the lathered black gelding carrying the stricken tracker.

Vin sat miserably hunched over in his saddle, unaware of the surrounding countryside or the knowledge that they were now only minutes from their destination. The long numbing ride from the camp had been a torturous journey of intense pain and nausea for the sick man, although for the first couple of hours the tracker had been reasonably alert and had managed to keep apace with the older Texan. However, during the last leg of the arduous trip Vin had fallen into a state of semi-consciousness, slumping forward and staying on his horse only with a combination of excellent riding skill and sheer tenacity. He was not even aware when Tanner had taken his mount's reins.

Will Tanner guided the two horses close to the front porch steps, sliding hastily from his mount as he quickly scanned the deserted yard and corrals. He had completely forgotten that the remainder of the Richardson family along with Constance Bartlett had gone in to Four Corners the previous day, and he let out an exasperated sigh as Ben dismounted from his horse and ran up the front steps, throwing wide the front door of the house and calling for assistance.

“James! Roberts! We need help out here!”

Without waiting for any acknowledgement from within, Tanner hastened round to the side of Vin’s horse, securing the gelding before attempting to get the unresponsive tracker down.

“Ben? What’s wrong?”

James Owen was the first to appear with Roberts right behind him, and he shot an alarmed look at the older Texan and his obviously ailing countryman as he came down the steps. Giving the doctor a grateful glance Tanner unhooked Vin’s feet from the stirrups, noting the younger man’s ashen, tight features and his rapid breathing. Now that his horse had come to a halt the tracker had sunk further forward in his saddle, almost leaning against his gelding's neck, and even though his eyes were half open he did not seem able to focus on anything. Stretching up to get a firm grip on Vin, the older Texan paused when he saw James come forward to run a professional gaze over the motionless tracker.

“He started to get sick yesterday real sudden like," Tanner started to explain. "He got much worse in the night so Ben ‘n’me reckoned it’d be best t’bring him back s’quick as possible. He’s in a lotta pain, Doc, and bin like this fer an hour or more.”

Tanner beckoned to Roberts to help him get the younger man down from his horse as he gave the doctor a brief account of what had occurred. Peering up at the tracker's strained features Owen raised his hand and briefly touched his sweaty forehead. He had noticed when they were riding back from town the previous day that Vin seemed pale and in a little discomfort, but when he had asked the tracker had brushed it aside as nothing. Now he realised he should have been more insistent.

“Get him inside now!” The urgency in his voice chilled Tanner, and he was glad of Roberts help as they carefully eased Vin from the back of his mount.

Vin was not aware that the horse had stopped moving until he felt strong hands reaching for him and dragging him off. The ride had been a nightmare for him as he concentrated on trying to push the pain down to a more bearable level, and nothing else had intruded into his own little world of hurt. Now, as his feet touched the ground, he could not prevent the moan that was wrung from his lips and sweat beaded his forehead as the colour drained from his face. Reaching out blindly, his questing fingers found and clutched tightly at the hitching rail as he doubled over and started to retch. Tanner gripped the younger man’s shoulders as he threw up violently, keeping a firm hold until the spasms ceased. Roberts went round to the other side, catching hold of the exhausted tracker's right arm as his knees started to buckle, and then he and a worried-looking Tanner half-carried Vin into the house, following the doctor as he went down a long corridor that led through to the rear of the building.

Pushing open a door to the right James stepped inside the room that he used as both study and surgery. It was high ceilinged and airy and large enough to accommodate a desk and several chairs as well as a couch which was pushed against the left-hand wall. A sturdy cabinet and a bookcase full of leather bound medical tomes stood behind the desk to the left while two large windows opened onto a walled garden, the heavy wooden shutters pinned back to let in the late morning sunlight. A long bench ran beneath one of the windows, a microscope and a rack of test tubes on one end and a pitcher and large basin in the middle.

He poured some water into the basin and thoroughly scrubbed his hands with the carbolic soap as Tanner and Roberts entered supporting the stricken tracker between them. Ben Richardson was close behind them.

“Lay him over there.” The doctor nodded towards the couch as he dried his hands and then hung his stethoscope around his neck. He watched as the two men eased Vin down, frowning at the way the Texan immediately curled up on his right side, instinctively drawing his knees up so he lay in an almost foetal position. Tanner carefully removed his son's gunbelt and hat, placing them safely on a chair in the corner. “See if you can get his jacket and shirt open,” Owen continued, an uneasy feeling creeping into his mind.

To be fair Tanner tried his best but Vin made it impossible for him. His arms were locked too tightly about his middle and when the tall Texan tried to force him all he succeeded in doing was causing the younger man more distress. Vin just wanted to be left alone, not touched and pulled about.

“No – lemme be,” he moaned, his breath hissing through tightly clenched teeth as he tried to pull away from the tormenting hands. Panic was beginning to set in now; cloistered amongst virtual strangers his natural caution and wariness tried to assert themselves but he couldn’t force his will upon them with sufficient strength to make a difference. Vin was beyond speech or of giving any kind of resistance to what was occurring around him as the relentless agony tore into him. He felt sick and dizzy, but that was nothing compared to the excruciating pain that seemed to pulsate and grind through his stomach causing him to hug his forearms hard into the centre of his abdomen.

"He’s hurting real bad, Doc.” There was worry in Tanner’s voice as he pulled up a chair and sat down beside the couch staring at the man as he huddled on his side. The tracker’s lips trembled with pain and sweat trickled down his ashen face as James touched the older man on the shoulder.

“How long has he been sick, Will? Tell me how it started.”

Tanner thought carefully as he told the Englishman everything he knew about Vin’s worsening condition over the last day.

"Waal, he started to feel real bad last night, but he told me his belly had been rough all day. I noticed he didn't eat much, but then the pain got worse so's he could hardly stand."

"Where was this pain?" Owen asked, Grainger's words reinforcing his earlier unease.

"Last night he told me it was sharp, like a knife twistin' in his guts, 'bout here." Leaning back Tanner placed a hand on the middle of his own flat stomach. "But this morning he said it'd moved down to here." Now the man moved his hand lower and to the right as he indicated the new position. "I know summat's seriously wrong wit' him. What d'ya think it is, Doc?"

The older man gazed at the doctor, and James was surprised by the worry and concern in Grainger’s voice. He was sure that the older Texan had never met Vin Tanner until the tracker had arrived at his brother-in-law's ranch yesterday, but it now appeared as though Will had developed a strong protectiveness towards the sick man on the couch.

“I have an idea,” he admitted at length. “But I'd rather not speculate until I’ve examined him further.” Putting the stethoscope to his ears he placed the other end on the tracker's chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. At the first touch of the cold metal Vin's eyelids fluttered several times and he gave a low moan as he tried to curl into a tighter ball in an attempt to protect his aching stomach. The severe and constant pain the tracker was suffering had driven away all coherent thought, and his whole world consisted only of agony where all he wanted to do was escape into a warm, comforting cocoon. Vin was barely aware of his surroundings and did not even know if he was in a potentially dangerous or vulnerable situation; he was unable to process any rational thoughts, and he was simply too sick to care at present.

"James?" Richardson prompted, seeing the worried frown on Owen's face.

"Well, his heartbeat is very rapid, but that's only to be expected considering the pain he's in," the young Englishman replied.

“Can’t you give him something?" Ben asked.

"What about some laudanum or summat?" Tanner suggested.

“I can give him some morphine,” James went on, slightly unnerved by the angry look from the Texan. He had already considered this before the man made the request, realising it was going to be the only way he could make a proper examination of the tracker. “It will make him feel more comfortable.”

Crossing over to the cabinet behind his desk Owen unlocked the door. Inside Tanner could see several drawers and shelves laden with bottles and jars, potions and drugs that the doctor wisely kept under lock and key. Removing a small bottle, a long leather case, and a thin glass phial he placed them on the bench under the window.

“Roberts, I need some boiling water. Do you mind?”

Charles Roberts had been standing in the doorway, silently observing the proceedings and wondering - like Owen and Richardson - just why Tanner seemed so concerned over a virtual stranger, and he gave a sudden start as he realised that the doctor was talking to him.

"Of course not, sir. Is there anything else you need?" the man asked, and James shook his head.

"Not for the moment."

Roberts nodded in acknowledgement and left. The kitchen was just a short walk further along the corridor so the man would not be that long. While he was gone Owen opened the leather case and took the hypodermic syringe from inside, laying it on a piece of clean linen. As he continued with his preparations Tanner watched him with interested curiosity, his attention divided between what the young doctor was doing and the ailing tracker as he remained by his side.

The door was pushed open as Roberts returned carrying a flat dish and a steaming kettle which he placed on the bench. Owen poured the boiling water into the dish and lowered the syringe carefully into it using a pair of small forceps. He rolled it around gently for a few moments, glancing up briefly as the tracker shifted and groaned. Once he was satisfied that the instrument had been thoroughly sterilised he lifted it out – still using the forceps – and laid it on the piece of linen to dry.

“If you've no further need of me, sir, I’m going to make some coffee.” The man knew that James Owen was more than capable of dealing with things here so he decided to make himself useful elsewhere.

“No – that’s fine. I’ll call if I need you.” Richardson remained unobtrusively in the background as Roberts left, pulling the door to behind him, and the doctor turned once again to Grainger. “Can you roll his sleeve up, Will? I’m just about ready.” Sitting down on the edge of the couch Owen grasped Vin’s right wrist, his grip firm as the Texan tried to draw back and he loosely pinned it down, tapping the inside of the tracker's forearm several times as he searched for a suitable vein. “This will take the edge off the pain without knocking him out, but it will relax him enough to make him more comfortable. Can you hold his arm still? That’s it. Now on no account let him move it!” the doctor ordered Grainger as he wiped an area of skin with alcohol.

Tanner could not help but be fascinated as the doctor expertly slid the needle into Vin’s arm, and he subconsciously held his breath as the man slowly turned the syringe's screw to discharge the drug. The tracker remained completely still during this procedure, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and after deftly withdrawing the needle the Englishman pressed a small dressing to the puncture hole and stood up.

Vin was lost, not quite knowing where he was. His mind throbbed with each wave of pain that rolled over him and he had to keep his jaw clenched tightly shut to stop himself crying out. His muscles were bunched so tight that he could barely raise his hand and every nerve felt as though it was being scraped raw. Even the simple action of drawing breath was an effort. Suddenly he felt something close about his arm, the grip on his wrist firm and unyielding, and he tried to pull away.

‘No – don’t!’

The words formed in his head, but his vocal chords seemed paralysed and he was unable to force them out, only hearing the faint croaking of his voice as if from a great distance. He continued his feeble struggle against the restraining grasp but to no avail. Then Vin felt a sudden pain in his arm, brief and sharp, and the sensation of something sliding under his skin, but before he could even blink the agony was receding, dropping back until he could breathe without hurting.

"Just let him rest for a few minutes, Will. The morphine won't take long to work."

Tanner loosed his grip on Vin's arm and brushed his fingers lightly across the younger man's brow before following the doctor across the room.

"So what're ya gonna do next?" he asked, perching on the corner of the desk as Owen cleaned the syringe, dried it off and replaced it in the case.

"Once the drug has taken effect I'll examine him properly," the Englishman told him. "I may be able to make a more accurate diagnosis then, but - " The rattle of cups interupted what he was about to say as Charles Roberts brought in the coffee tray which he placed on the desk.

"How's he doing?" he asked, casting an eye towards the couch before pouring the coffee and handing a cup to each man.

"Not so good," Tanner admitted, accepting the scalding beverage gratefully.

“Do you think someone should ride into town to let them know that the young man’s been taken ill?” he asked of no one in particular.

Ben took a sip of his coffee and then set the cup down before replying to the butler’s question. His attention was focussed on the man on the couch who had stirred slightly and seemed to be rousing from his stupor.

"Maybe, but I'll leave that decision to James. What do you think?" he asked, turning to his brother-in-law. Stepping closer the doctor could see that the lines of pain that had creased Vin’s face were fading as the drug took effect and his breathing had levelled out to a more normal pattern.

“Hmm? Erm... I think I’d like to check him over first. It’s a long ride and I believe Chris and the others would rather have the facts before coming all this way,” he said absently, sitting down and picking up a slack wrist as he began counting his patient's pulse rate again.

Vin could hear the murmur of several voices, and taking a long slow breath he opened his eyes, blinking and frowning in confusion as he tried to work out where he was. The terrible pain that had gripped him inside had diminished a little, and while he could still feel the awful throbbing on the right side of his stomach it was now more bearable. The rigid tension that had knotted up his shoulders and back had also receded and he found he could straighten his legs a little, shifting over on the couch as he visibly relaxed.

"Well at least his heartbeat's a little steadier," James said with relief, glancing up as Tanner came to stand beside him, staring down at the tracker with concern. Vin blinked and turned his head towards the Englishman's voice, the blue eyes cloudy and bewildered.

“Chris?” Panic flared in the tracker’s glazed eyes, and he twisted his head around frantically seeking the familiar presence of his closest friend.

“Easy, son. I’ll go and get yer friends later, but for now jes’ lay nice an’ quiet while the doc has a looksee.” Tanner’s voice held a soothing tone, and the firm hand that rested on Vin’s shoulder was reminiscent of the times that Chris Larabee had given comfort and support to him on occasions of injury or illness. Somewhat mollified by the older man’s proximity the tracker subsided against the pillow, although the plain truth was that he just did not have the energy to try and get up off the couch.

"Ben, can you pass me that phial, please?" James requested. He laid a hand across the Texan’s forehead feeling the slight clamminess there, and then took the glass phial that his brother-in-law handed to him. Removing the stopper, he took out the pocket thermometer and shook it once quickly. “Vin, I’m going to check your temperature. I have something called a thermometer but I need to slip it under your tongue. Can you open up for me?” The tracker nodded, opening his mouth a fraction so Owen could slip the tube in. “Good. Now don’t talk and don’t bite down on it!”

Slipping out of the chair the doctor went across to his desk, opening a drawer and taking out a notebook and pencil. As James stepped away Tanner took his place, moving the chair a little closer as he gave his son a reassuring smile. and Vin started to respond but then stopped, fearful of breaking the fragile glass tube in his mouth. He could not help thinking how strange this all was and he knew that Nathan would find this all extremely interesting. However, thinking about Nathan only served to heighten his nervousness; he was still surrounded by comparative strangers and it was obvious from the way he felt that he was very sick.

"Alright, let's see what we've got." Owen took the thermometer out and studied the numbers down the side, before shaking it again and dropping it back into its protective phial. As he had expected the reading was a few degrees above the norm. With a nod of satisfaction he jotted a few more notes into the book and then placed it on the table.

"Doc?" There was a question in Tanner's voice, but the doctor was not ready to commit himself to a specific diagnosis yet.

"Can you give me a hand to take his coat off?” With the Texan's help James slipped off Vin's jacket, but as he started to unbutton the shirt and longjohns the tracker became agitated, panic reasserting itself as he felt hands tugging at his clothing.

“Vin – it’s alright, boy.” Tanner caught his wrists in a firm but gentle grip and squeezed reassuringly. “The doc’s gotta find out what’s wrong.”

Whilst the older man kept a tight hold, Owen quickly unfastened the tracker's pants and eased them down past his hips. Vin swallowed noisily, trying to steady his breathing as he considered Grainger's words. Old habits died hard, and lying so helpless in a house full of people he barely knew did not sit comfortably with him. His first instinct was to protect his back, or let Chris or one of the others protect it, but he did not have that luxury at the moment. The tracker had no choice but to trust James Owen.

“It's alright, Vin. I just need to feel your stomach and side," the doctor explained, trying to calm his distressed patient and the Texan nodded slowly. “Fine. But first can you tell me if you hurt anywhere else? Have you had any falls or accidents lately?"

"No. Just ain't bin feelin' so good fer a coupla days." The tracker's voice was weary but he realised that these questions were important as the doctor went on.

"What I'm going to do will hurt, but you have to tell me exactly where the pain is. Okay?" Vin nodded once again and closed his eyes. "Now, does that hurt?” The man slipped his hand under the longjohns on the tracker’s left side and pressed down lightly.

“No,” came back the reply, and the doctor moved his hand lower and nearer to the middle of the Texan’s stomach.

“What about now?” he asked unnecessarily as the pressure brought a sudden gasp from Vin. “Is it a little tender?”

“Yeah!” Vin hissed, but he was not prepared for what Owen did next.

“And this?” As the Englishman pressed down gently on his right side Vin’s world exploded, his strangled cry echoing around the room. He had thought it impossible for the agony to increase but it felt as if an iron spike had been driven through his belly and his knees jerked upwards reflexively as he curled inwards again, hands clenched so tightly that his nails cut bloody half moons into the palms.

“Jeez, Doc! Did ya hav’ta do that?” Tanner shifted his grip, moving to sit on the edge of the couch as he pulled Vin close. Rubbing soothingly at the tracker’s back he tried to comfort him but the young Texan was ensnared, his body taut and rigid. The dark lashes were damp with tears of pain, and all sense of reason and self-awareness fled from his mind. His only companion now was wave after wave of intense, stabbing pain.

“Steady, Vin. Y’jes’ rest easy fer a moment while the doc and me go an’ have a talk. We’ll not be far away, son.” Tanner released his hold on Vin, easing him back against the pillow and pulling a blanket up over him before turning to Owen. “What’s wrong?” the Texan demanded as the other man remained silent.

The doctor stepped over to his desk and sat down, his face troubled as he studied the notebook. Tanner brushed back the sweat damp hair from the tracker's forehead and then strode across the room, determined to get to the truth.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, placing his palms on the desktop and leaning forward, his whole stance menacing.

The young doctor chewed his lip for a second or two before replying because he was not certain how the Texan would react to what he was about to say. James had known Grainger for a few months now, but he was still wary and a little intimidated by the man. Whilst the Englishman admitted that the man was not unfriendly, it seemed that Will Grainger did not make acquaintances easily, or form any type of close relationship. The few ranch hands that had been hired by the family kept the Texan at a discreet distance, which obviously suited the taciturn man. Grainger had struck up a rapport with Ben Richardson, and he was only too eager to hear about the family's plans and projects for the future. But there was something different now in the older man’s manner that piqued the doctor’s curiosity. It evidently concerned the seriously ill tracker, and he was puzzled that Grainger displayed a hitherto unseen anxiety about the health of a virtual stranger. Finally James spoke.

“Well, I can't be a hundred percent certain, but he is showing all the symptoms of acute appendicitis,” he said slowly.

“Appendicitis?” Tanner drew a sharp breath and glanced across at the couch. Vin was quiet enough for the moment, but his laboured breathing could be heard across the room. “Are ya sure? So yer gonna take out his appendix now, huh?” It was not really a question; Tanner expected nothing less from Owen, and his tone clearly conveyed that.

“No, Will. It’s customary to wait and observe the patient for a period of time. This operation is a difficult and dangerous procedure and I won’t take that type of risk if there’s a chance his condition could improve. It isn’t unusual for an appendix to flare up periodically, although I must admit his symptoms are very severe.” James flinched a little at the angry glare Grainger shot his way and for a second he thought the other man would strike him.

“Wait? The boy can’t wait, doc! This can turn deadly real fast, and yer sayin’ yer jes’ gonna sit and wait ‘til its too late? I’ve seen a kid die ‘cos there warn’t no medical help to be had!"

“So have I.” The quiet comment came from Roberts and the other three looked round at him in surprise. They had been so caught up in the tense situation that they had almost forgotten the presence of the butler until he spoke. The man stood at the end of the couch, his expression tormented as he regarded the sorely afflicted tracker.

"Roberts, are you alright?" Richardson was concerned by the anguish on the man's face. The butler turned to them and his eyes were haunted.

"I saw my son die from this," he whispered. "My only child - and he was barely fifteen years old."

Both Richardson and James were stunned by this hushed statement; they had not been aware that Roberts and his wife had had a child before now, but Tanner pounced on the news.

"See? Y'ain't got a choice. Ya gotta operate!" The Texan was angry but adamant and he leaned forward to grasp the front of Owen's shirt. The doctor paled and licked his lips nervously, but suddenly Ben was there laying a restraining hand on the American's shoulder.

“Hold on now, Will. James isn’t saying he won’t help Vin, just that he wants to be absolutely sure. Even I can see that he's really sick, but you’re saying that you’ll operate if necessary aren’t you, James?” Richardson had fended off the incensed Texan and he made his final question to his brother-in-law almost sound like an order.

“No I’m not, Ben. I'm sorry you've suffered such a devastating loss, Roberts, but my conscience won't allow me to make snap judgements like that,” Owen said apologetically.

"Yer nothin' but a cheap sideshow drummer!" Tanner growled savagely, shaking off Richardson's hand but making no further assault on the young Englishman. "You call yerself a doctor? That's real funny. Ya just ain't got the balls to admit ya can't do it!"

“Will, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to... it’s just… “ James hesitated. How could he tell this tough, dangerous man that he was afraid? Although he knew in theory how an appendectomy was done – and had seen it performed once in his short career – he had never done it himself. The procedure was almost as dangerous as the condition itself and he simply was not confident enough to carry out the operation.

“I thought you doctor's’re supposed to save lives?” Anger and contempt throbbed through Tanner’s words, but he kept his voice low even though he wanted to scream at Owen and shake him until his teeth rattled. “Never thought I’d see one who’d let a boy die ‘cos he’s too scared to try!” The Texan knew he had found the reason when he saw the guilty flush on the Englishman’s face, and he turned away in disgust.

“I can’t understand what’s got into you, Will." Ben was bewildered by the man's aggressive attitude. "You barely know Vin, yet you’re acting like he’s your long lost son.”

“That’s ‘cos he is my son, dammit!” the older man grated out, not caring any longer who knew this fact.

“Your son? Good Lord!” Three faces mirrored their shock but it was Richardson who spoke first. "So why in God's name haven't you said anything before?"

“It’s personal. I don’t want t’say too much ‘cos it ain’t jes’ me that’s involved, but I promise ya m’boy does know who I am. All I will say is that I’ve bin seeking him fer a long time, and I don’t want to lose him now. So Doctor, why don’t ya tell me again why ya refuse t’help my son?” This final icy comment to Owen well and truly flung the gauntlet down, and the others could almost taste the venom in Tanner’s words.

"I'm sorry, Will, but knowing he's your son makes my decision even harder." There was genuine regret in James' voice. "You have to understand that in Great Britain it’s not really common practice to remove an appendix although I am aware that here in America your surgeons are using the procedure on a fairly regular basis. It is a very risky undertaking and requires a great deal of surgical skill. I have never done this operation before, and the only time I saw it performed the patient died. You can see now why I am so reluctant to proceed. I don't think I have much choice when I say I'd rather wait for a while.”

"Dammit!" Tanner slammed his fist down on the desk. "There are always choices! I ain’t gonna stand around and see Vin suffer and die."

“What are you going to do?” Roberts asked as he looked at the three men in turn. Whilst he could understand James' hesitance to a certain degree he also knew how Will Tanner felt. There was no greater heartbreak for a parent than to see one's child die, and he could empathise with the Texan, one father to another.

“I’m gonna fetch Nathan Jackson. He may not be a qualified doctor but I know he’ll do his damndest to save Vin!”

Pushing past the three astonished men, the Texan went back over to the couch and crouched down. Vin had not stirred during the fifteen minutes that the four men had had their heated discussion and as the older man gazed down at his semi-conscious son he wondered whether he would have enough time to fetch Nathan Jackson. It was clear that the tracker was dangerously ill, and he would need a skilled healer and a large measure of good fortune if he were to pull through.

"Y’hang on fer yer pa, son. I hav’ta go fer help, but ya gotta stay with me, y’hear? I promise ya, I’ll be back real soon.” Even asleep the tracker’s mouth twitched and his fingers clutched spasmodically at the sheet beneath his body, the morphine not completely masking the pain. Tanner straightened up, his decision made. There could be no more time wasting with Vin's life at stake. “I need to borrow a fresh horse, Mr Richardson. I’m gonna need summat fast and strong if I have any chance of savin’ m’boy. Doc, I’m gonna bring Nathan Jackson here. All I ask is that y’do what y’can fer him ‘til I return.”

Roberts gave the doctor a rueful look but did not say anything as he went back to the kitchen and Richardson followed the Texan out. Left alone with the suffering tracker, James cursed his own trepidation and his inexperience. Even back in England he would have still hesitated, but at least there he would have had colleagues to back up his decision for good or ill, but here… the surroundings were still more crude than he was comfortable with.

With a sigh he turned back to the sleeping man and started to remove his boots and the remainder of his clothing before covering him with a sheet and a light blanket. The least he could do was carry on with his observations and keep the Texan as comfortable as possible. He did not dare think about the possible consequences when Will Tanner returned from Four Corners.

Richardson and Tanner quickly reached the main stables, and pausing briefly to refill his canteen at the well the Texan was puzzled when he saw the Englishman disappear into the smaller stable block which housed his prized Arab stallion. The Texan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at first, but on seeing his boss lead out the thoroughbred his face lit up with relieved delight.

“I know you need the best and the fastest for this errand. Your son’s life is very important Will, and if Prince can give you the extra time you need then you must take him with my blessing.” Richardson handed over the reins before going back inside for the Arab's English style saddle.

The Texan did not know what to say to this generous offer. The animal was the finest piece of horseflesh he had ever seen, and Mersey Prince was destined to be the sire for the Richardson's new bloodline. The horse was strong and ran like the wind, which gave Tanner renewed hope as he knew that he would be able to cut his journey time to the town by at least thirty minutes. It did not sound like much but to Vin it could be the difference between life and death, and he would have to make that saving count for something.

Ben had thrown the lightweight saddle on the horse and Tanner eyed it critically before stepping forward to lengthen the stirrup leathers as he readied Prince for what was probably the most important race of his life. Strapping his canteen over his shoulder, Will Tanner turned gratefully to his boss and held out his right hand.

“I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, Mr Richardson. If Vin don’t make it it won’t be because he lacked effort from you. Look out fer m’son, won’tcha? He’s all that’s left o’ m’family.” The two grasped hands firmly and then Tanner climbed atop the prancing stallion. With a farewell nod he kicked the horse into motion.

Will Tanner was thankful for the speed of the bay stallion between his knees. At another time and under different circumstances he would have appreciated the effortless grace as the Arab raced along like the wind itself, but right now it was simply a means to an end. Less than an hour and a quarter after he had left the ranch he was tearing along the main street of Four Corners, scattering other riders as he headed for the clinic.

“Jackson! Nathan Jackson!” he yelled as he brought his sweating mount to a rump-scraping halt before the Livery, out of the saddle almost before the bay had stopped. Knotting the reins quickly around the top rail of the corral, Tanner was halfway up the stairs before Nathan appeared on the top landing.

”Ya looking for me?” he asked with a frown, recognising the man after a few seconds. Then he looked down, expecting to see a familiar black gelding below. “What's happened? Where’s Vin?”

Chris Larabee was just leaving the jailhouse when the fast moving horse raced down the town's main thoroughfare. As he looked along the dusty street he saw the back of the horse and rider cantering towards the livery. The gunslinger knew who it was and where he was going even before he recognised Ben Richardson's Arab stallion and he started to hurry along the boardwalk. Chris went cold and a shiver ran down his spine as a fearful apprehension gripped his mind. With an eerie flash of prescience he knew that Grainger was coming to tell them that Vin was in serious trouble. This feeling of foreboding gave the man additional impetus and he picked up speed, running flat out for the last few yards or so. Flinging the clinic door open Chris breathlessly confronted Nathan and the man he knew as Will Grainger.

“Grainger! What’s happened? Where’s Vin?” Chris unwittingly echoed the questions that the healer had just asked, and the two peacekeepers stared in mutual alarm at the man before them.

“Back at the ranch,” the Texan told them as he wiped the perspiration from his face with his bandana. The Arab stallion had given his all, cutting nearly half an hour off the journey time, but the stress on the rider was almost as great as that on the horse. Hastily crossing to his dresser Nathan filled a cup with water, passing it to the exhausted man. Tanner’s hand shook as he lifted it to his lips and as he gulped down the cold liquid his eyes met Chris’ worried hazel gaze. Seeing the raw fear in the gunslinger’s eyes Tanner hurriedly put down the empty cup, taking a deep breath as he started to explain the reason for his desperate ride.

“Vin's real sick an' I need ya to come out to Richardson's place. We had to abandon the trip ‘cos he started to get pains. Doc Owen say’s he’s got appendicitis.” Tanner ignored the healer’s hissing intake of breath as the man began to make his own medical assessment of the condition. Chris paled a little; he knew how dangerous appendicitis could be but there had to be more to it if Grainger had ridden into town – and ridden hard if the lathered Arab was anything to go by – to find Nathan. He remembered the healer telling him in awed tones how James Owen had qualified from one of the best teaching hospitals in Manchester, England, and only desperation would have caused him to seek out another medical man, albeit one without any real formal training.

“Thing is, the doc won’t operate – say’s he’d rather wait an’ see, but I’ve seen this afore an’ I know the boy ain’t got much time. Nathan, he’s in a real bad way. Y’gotta go out there an’ help him else he’ll die!” There was almost a note of pleading in the man’s voice but neither Chris nor Nathan fully assimilated that curious fact; worry for their sick friend overrode all other concerns.

Nathan nodded wordlessly although he did not know if he would be able to help his friend at all. The healer had never had a patient with appendicitis before, and even during the War Between the States when he was a stretcher-bearer and sometime medic he had never witnessed any of the Army surgeons carrying out the procedure. The only knowledge he had of the serious complaint was what he had read in one of his textbooks, but that was nothing like having first hand experience or even the consolation of seeing the operation performed by another doctor. Accepting the existence of all the difficulties he knew he would be up against Nathan was still determined that he would provide his friend with whatever medical help he could, and pushing his trepidation aside he began to think about what he would need to take with him.

“Chris, I need yer help to pack my medical kit. We’ll split it up between the two of us ‘cos we’re gonna have to travel fast if… ” the healer was interrupted by Will Tanner.

“Three, Nathan. I’m coming back with ya.”

Chris could feel the anger rising in him. What did this man think he was doing? He was a stranger to Vin’s; the two had only met the day before but now Grainger was acting as if he was the tracker’s life-long friend and even exhibiting signs that he cared about the younger man.

“We know the way, Grainger,” Chris growled. Glancing to where Nathan was already sorting through his dresser the gunslinger turned dismissively away from the older man. Tanner’s eyes glittered dangerously and he grabbed Chris’ arm, spinning the black dressed man back to face him.

“I’m going back ‘cos I promised the boy I would. Y’can ride with me, or y’can eat my trail dust! The choice is yers, Larabee.”

Suddenly Chris was moving shoving the Texan back against the wall, his forearm pressed to the man’s throat.

“I don't give a damn about your promises,” he snarled. “Vin needs us - not some low-life scum like you!“

“Chris!” Nathan’s fingers clamped around the gunslinger’s forearm trying to drag it back whilst his other hand tightened painfully about the man’s right shoulder.

“Get yer hands off me!” Tanner hissed. Blue eyes glared back at Chris without flinching, and It was Nathan who broke the deadlock as he physically hauled the two men apart, trying to defuse the tense situation before it spiralled out of control.

"Stop it the both of ya! We need to get going an’ neither of ya are doing Vin any good like this. Chris, pack these in here.” Nathan indicated a satchel and an assortment of bottles, dried herbs and two heavy books. “Will, go to the livery an’ tell Tiny or Chas to ready our hosses. Explain that ya need a fresh mount an’ yer riding wit’ Chris an’ me.” At this last part the healer glared at the gunslinger, almost daring the man to contradict his order.

Chris forced himself to relax as he began stowing the supplies in the bag. He could not put his finger on the reason but the Texan made his hackles rise as soon as he came anywhere near him. It went beyond a lack of trust but Chris was at a loss as to why he kept reacting to Grainger the way he did. The gunslinger was aware that all his friends had felt his increasing animosity to the man but they all seemed to be able to get on with him and in fact Buck had admitted to Chris that he actually liked Will Grainger. Watching as the Texan left the clinic Chris tugged the satchel straps closed and then carefully slung it over his shoulder as he went over to where Nathan was checking his medical kit.

“You ready, Nathan? The sooner we get going the happier I’ll be.” Chris was focussed on only one thing now. He would not be able to relax until he knew that Vin was safe in the healer's care especially when the tracker was as sick as Grainger had intimated. Nathan picked up his kit and nodded to his friend.

“Yeah. We need to find Josiah or Buck, an’ let ‘em know what’s happening. Chris, we can’t jump to any conclusions jes’ yet. James Owen seems to be a reasonable man, so mebbe I can talk t’him an’ persuade him to change his mind.”

Nathan was worried himself, so he could only imagine what was going through Chris’ mind about the condition of the young Texan. The bond that encompassed the seven peacekeepers seemed to revolve around Vin, and if the tracker died then the circle of friendship would be severed. More than that, it would be impossible to repair the break because another link in that hitherto strong ring would also be lost. The death of Vin Tanner would rip half of the newly found soul from Chris Larabee, and the healer did not believe the gunslinger would ever overcome that.

Time was of the essence now so Nathan pushed his fears to one side and with a final look around his small clinic he strode through the door after the departing gunslinger, praying that Will Grainger was waiting with the horses.

Charles Roberts had lost count of how many times he had stepped out onto the porch and stared into the distance looking for some sign of Will Tanner. More than four hours had passed since the Texan's departure and the condition of the young tracker had grown steadily worse during that time.

A measure of the respect that Roberts had had for young James Owen had been lost due to the man's inaction and also in part to his own anger. Under other circumstances he would not have questioned the doctor's judgement but this was different.

There was also a more personal level to the desperate situation. Roberts was a deeply religious man but all the prayers in the world had not saved his own son from a painful and unnecessary death and now he could see history repeating itself. It was a situation he would not have wished on his worst enemy and to see it happening to Will Tanner - a man he considered a friend - brought back every agonising memory with sharp clarity. He could still see the look on Annie's face when he had told her of the young tracker's plight and he knew she was remembering Alan too. Their son would have been about Vin’s age now if he had lived. He had expected her to be upset but he had not been prepared for her anger - a mother's anger - which she levelled at the doctor. When she had taken the lunch trays in to Owen and Richardson and slammed one down on the desk in front of James without a word both men were under no illusions as to her feelings.

"Still no sign of them?"

Ben Richardson's words jolted him back to the present and he looked up as the man came from the house to sit beside him on the bench next to the front door.

"Not yet, sir."

"It'll be dark in a few hours," Richardson stated casting an eye at the sky. "They should be back by then."

"I hope so." The fervour in Roberts voice caused Richardson to glance at him in concern.

"I'm sorry about your son, Charles. I had no idea." He had known the butler for almost ten years and he could only speculate now how he and his wife must be feeling. He could also sympathise with Will Tanner. When the man first disclosed his relationship to Vin Ben had finally understood why he had been so concerned about the tracker the previous night. However, the American now faced the very real prospect of losing him before he had even had the chance to get to know him.

"Why won't he do something?" Roberts continued almost to himself. "Can't he see it's the boy's only chance?"

Ben was not sure whether the butler was talking about his own son or Vin Tanner but before he had the chance to ask he heard the sound of pounding hoofbeats. Both men were on their feet immediately and Richardson raised his eyebrows in surprise as three riders galloped towards the house.

"Will! Thank Heavens you're back!" There was no disguising the relief in the Englishman's voice as Tanner slid from the back of his sweat-stained horse.

"How's Vin?" the Texan asked hurrying forward.

"Not so good but maybe Nathan can make James change his mind. Lord knows I've tried!"

"He still won't operate?" Nathan glanced quickly at Chris as he asked the question but the gunslinger was just glaring icily at Tanner as he dismounted from his black, quickly throwing the reins over the rail before unfastening a large satchel from the saddle.

"I'm afraid not." Richardson had done his utmost to persuade his young brother-in-law that he was Vin's only chance, but James was still refusing to act. He knew that if Amy had been here she would have forced her twin to carry out the lifesaving operation no matter what.

"Where's Vin?" The gunslinger spoke for the first time and Ben could hear the concern in the man's voice.

"Come on," he said, leading them through to Owen's rooms at the back of the house. The doctor was sitting beside the sleeping tracker when Richardson ushered them in and he looked around, his expression one of relief when he saw Nathan. However, that feeling was fleeting when he looked beyond the tall healer and saw the grim faces of Tanner and Chris Larabee. Owen swallowed in trepidation; he had already experienced the Texan's volatile temper but he had no idea how Chris would react with his friend so dangerously ill.

"Nathan." The Englishman climbed to his feet and held out his hand. "I'm pleased to see you again. I only wish the circumstances could have been different."

"We ain't got time for all this bullshit!" Tanner stepped forward before Nathan could reply and his face was angry. "I told ya I was gonna get some real help so why don't ya just get outta his way?"

Owen took an involuntary step back in the face of the Texan's wrath but Nathan moved between the two men, his face serious as he tried to placate them.

At the point when James Owen had left Vin's side Chris had brushed past him and slipped into the vacant seat ignoring the others as he concentrated his attention on the tracker. Vin lay slightly hunched on his right side, the cover pulled up to just above his waist while his left arm was draped lightly across his stomach. Reaching out a hand Chris gently smoothed a stray lock of hair from his friend’s face, noticing the almost grey colour of his skin and the furrowed lines of pain and stress around his eyes and mouth. The gunslinger did not have to be a qualified doctor or even a skilled healer to see just how sick the young Texan was or to know that each passing minute pushed the situation to an ever more critical level.

"Hang in there, pard," he whispered as he leaned forward and rested his hand lightly on Vin's right arm but then he looked up as he heard the older Texan's voice raised in anger. For a brief moment he considered intervening but then he felt the tracker's arm jerk beneath his palm and he looked back as Vin groaned and moved his head slightly.

"Vin?" Chris watched as the dark lashes fluttered several times and the blue eyes slowly opened. The gunslinger's fingers tightened around his friend's forearm, the grip and the tone of his voice conveying just how worried he was. Vin blinked a couple of times as he frowned in confusion and then the merest hint of a smile touched his lips as he stared blearily at the man sitting beside him.

"H... hey... cowboy." The tracker sounded tired and pain tinged his slurred words, but he was relieved to discover that Chris was finally here. The gunslinger forced a reassuring grin to his lips even though he was in no mood for smiling.

"Nathan's here. He'll have you fixed up in no time." Chris put as much conviction into his words as he could even though he was not certain himself what Nathan was going to do. Vin relaxed with a soft sigh and closed his eyes once again, not even flinching when Nathan stepped forward and placed two gentle fingers to the pulse point in his neck His heartbeat was quite rapid and his skin felt clammy to the touch and the healer glanced at Owen as he came to stand beside him.

"James, we need to talk. Shall we go out fer a short breather?” Nathan gave the younger man no chance to object, grasping his arm tightly and leading him out of the door.

With the departure of Nathan and Owen Will Tanner now found himself reduced to being merely a spectator and he was not happy. He was beginning to see the strength of the bond between the peacekeepers in Four Corners, and in particular he could see Chris Larabee being a major obstacle to the relationship he hoped to cultivate with his son. The nagging feeling of unease was starting to make itself known; now that he had the chance to make up for all those lost years and missed opportunities he did not want anyone else to come between them. He needed his time with Vin but he would have to curb his impatience for now until he could gain the younger man's trust and respect.

As the two men stood in the narrow hallway Owen could not avoid Nathan's intense scrutiny. He could feel the healer's anger simmering just beneath the surface and he honestly could not blame him.

"Are ya certain it's appendicitis?" Nathan was tight-lipped as he asked the question and Owen nodded.

"Yes. I've checked him for everything else, but I'm positive my initial diagnosis is correct."

“Then you have to operate, James. Now!”

"I'm sorry, Nathan. I... I can't!" he whispered. "What if Vin dies?"

"If ya do nothin' he's gonna die anyway!" Nathan pointed out. "I don't see that ya gotta choice." There was no mistaking the urgency in the dark skinned healer’s statement but the other man made no reply, knowing the American was right. For as long as he could remember all he had ever wanted to be was a doctor; the desire to help people had inspired him through the years of rigorous training but now, at the moment of truth, his courage was failing him.

"I know what you must think of me."

"No - ya don't. Ya have the knowledge and training t'do this. D'ya have any idea what I'd give to be in yer shoes?" The passion and fire in Nathan's voice made James feel wretched and he lowered his gaze.

"You don't know what you're asking of me. The truth is I'm scared," he confessed reluctantly. Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly. "I never thought I'd hear myself say that. You must understand I've never done this operation before."

"There's a first time for everything." Nathan gripped the younger man's shoulder and stared at him intently. "That's what being a doctor is all about! Can't you feel that?" The healer grabbed James' hands and turned them over. "You have the expertise right here. Use it!" he declared passionately.

"I appreciate what you're saying, but I count Vin as a friend. How can I risk his life?"

"Believe me it's not easy." Nathan thought back to the countless times that he had had to tend to the various wounds and injuries that his friends sustained. Their job was dangerous, and in some cases he had fought for their very lives. No amount of training could prepare you for that but it was something you had to learn to push aside, otherwise you would not be able to function. "But knowing they're yer friends makes ya try even harder."

The younger man gazed at Nathan hearing the ardent emotion in the healer's voice. It was the same fire that had burned in him when he had first qualified, the desire to help the sick and needy and to push forward the frontiers of medical knowledge. Now, listening to this man who had no formal training, the Englishman realised that Nathan's words had re-affirmed his own belief in his abilities. He might have lost a little of his confidence but he now knew that he had to at least try. Having made his decision there was one more thing that he needed to ask.

"If I do this... I'm not sure I can carry this through on my own," he stated truthfully. "Will you help me?"

Nathan stared at him in stunned disbelief and a huge smile spread across his face. This was something he had only dared to dream about, the chance to work alongside a real doctor, and there was no hesitation in his reply.

"Of course I will. I'd be honoured, James," he answered emphatically, holding out his hand.

"Thank you." Owen gripped the healer's hand warmly, his sentiment heartfelt.

"I'll go tell Chris. He's gonna be mighty relieved." Now that the difficult situation had been resolved they needed to look into the practicalities of where the operation would be carried out but Nathan's first instinct was to inform the gunslinger of James' decision.

"Don't you think we should tell Will first?" the doctor suggested.

"Will? Why?" There was a puzzled expression on Nathan's face as he tried to comprehend Owen's words.

"You don't know." It was not a question; the Englishman could see by Nathan's perplexed reaction that the healer had no idea what he was talking about. The American's next slightly exasperated comment confirmed that.

"Know what?"

"That Will is Vin's father. Oh God, Nathan - I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

Vin's father? Nathan knew he was staring stupidly at James but he could not help himself. If the Englishman had just told him that Abraham Lincoln was still alive he could not have been more surprised. As far as he and the others were aware Vin's father was long dead, and although the tracker had mentioned his mother it appeared that he had never even known his father.

"Vin's father." Nathan breathed the comment out loud almost as though he were trying to get used to the idea. He was stunned by the revelation but then a sudden thought occured to him. "Does Vin know?"

"According to Will he does. He's been looking for him for some years." The doctor shook his head. "I only wish the timing could have been better."

For a moment Nathan thought back to the day that his own father had suddenly come back into his life and he gave a faint smile at the joy he had felt at that time despite the traumatic circumstances. He could only hope that Vin would have the same chance he has had to spend time with his father.

"I think we ought to go and tell them. We need to get things started." Owen's confidence had been reinstated and he was now ready to proceed with the tricky operation. As he stepped back towards his study Nathan started to follow but then stopped, an uneasy look on his face as he realised that he was going to have to tell Chris Larabee about Will's connection to his best friend. It was not something he was looking forward to.

"Nathan?" Owen had paused as the healer hesitated, but Nathan waved him on. There was no way the Englishman would understand his apprehension.

Will Tanner pounced as soon as the two men came back into the room.

"Well?" he demanded. Chris rose from beside the couch and stood next to Tanner, waiting expectantly for the answer.

"Nathan and I have agreed to operate as soon as possible, but I must advise you of the risks involved." Owen glanced at each man in turn. Richardson gave Nathan a grateful nod and smiled at his brother-in-law in relief but it was Chris who brushed aside his warning; any chance was preferable to no chance.

"I don't care. You gotta do it now!"

"I don't think - " Owen was interupted as Nathan dropped a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.

"Chris - it's not your decision." The healer's voice was quiet and measured and he steeled himself as the hazel eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Wha'd'you mean?"

There was no mistaking the menace in the softly spoken words as the gunslinger took a step forward and Nathan glanced quickly beyond him to the tall Texan, seeing the look of satisfaction on his face. The healer threw another glance at Chris and licked his lips nervously. He had never been afraid of the taciturn gunslinger - until now. Before he could say anything else Tanner was there, a grim smile on his face.

"It's my decision! Vin's my son!"

There was a stunned silence and Nathan regarded the gunslinger warily waiting for the explosion. To his surprise Chris started to laugh, and Tanner's face darkened with fury as he realised he was being ridiculed.

"This has to be some kind of sick joke, right?" Chris was still grinning as he looked at Nathan but the smile quickly faded when he saw the healer's sombre expression. "Nathan?"

"I dunno, Chris. He could be telling the truth." There was nothing else Nathan could say. As he studied the older Texan closely he could now see the similarity in the shape of the jaw and in the colour of their eyes and he grudgingly had to admit to himself that he bore some family resemblance to Vin.

"I dunno what ya find so God-damned funny, Larabee. It's the truth." Tanner did not like being laughed at but he held his temper in check.

"Why? 'Cos you say so?" Chris was almost calling the man a liar and Nathan tensed, ready to intervene if necessary. "You ain't fit to lick his boots!"

Ben Richardson saw the flush that crept into the Texan's cheeks, saw the way his hands clenched into fists, and he knew someone had to put a stop to the verbal sparring before it went beyond that.

"Gentlemen - please! This is neither the time nor the place." His words were totally ignored as the Americans continued to face each other angrily and he stepped forward pushing himself in front of Tanner. "Will, your first concern should be for you son."

The Texan blinked as he considered the other man's words, and then he took a step back glancing across at the sleeping tracker.

"Yer right," he agreed. "This is stupid. All we're doin' is wasting time, and time is summat m'boy ain't got!"

Chris felt himself bristle at the older man's proprietary comment but he saw Nathan's warning glare and he had to admit that Richardson was right. No matter how he felt about Grainger Vin's welfare was their first priority. As he turned away in disgust the brooding, hard-eyed look he gave the Texan said more than words ever could.

This ain't finished.

James Owen could see that it would be best to keep Chris and Tanner apart until they had calmed down and he could see a way of doing it. Placing a hand on the Texan's shoulder he put his plan into motion.

"Will, you look exhausted. You've made two long rides today and not stopped to eat. Why don't you go through to the kitchen and get Mrs Roberts to make you something?" In all honesty the Texan did look worn out, the strain beginning to show on his face.

"But I gotta stay with Vin," he protested.

Owen's courage was on the ascendant and he faced the Texan without flinching. "Chris and Nathan can stay with him for a while. I understand your concern but you'll be no good to your son if you make yourself ill."

"Come on, Will, I'll join you. I could do with a cup of coffee." Richardson was glad to see his brother-in-law finally taking control of the situation and he appreciated his efforts in keeping the two angry men at a distance. Tanner was not happy but he could see the sense behind the doctor's suggestion. As he reluctantly followed Ben from the room, the Texan threw a resentful glare in Chris Larabee's direction but the gunslinger ignored it. He was a past master of the deadly look, and it did not faze him one little bit.

As Tanner and Richardson left Chris slipped back into the chair beside the couch, James Owen's words tumbling around in his mind, but he was only half concentrating on them. He was still seething with fury over Will Grainger’s preposterous claim and although he had followed his first instinct and laughed in the man’s face, the situation was far from funny. If Vin had not been so ill Chris would probably have beaten Grainger senseless. The gunslinger shook himself and took a deep breath, wondering yet again whether his overwhelming concern for Vin was clouding his judgement. He looked down at the tracker’s pallid face and his sense of helplessness was like a physical ache. Even though the doctor had agreed to carry out the operation he knew there was no guarantee of success,

"Stay with me, Vin," he breathed softly placing his hand over the young Texan's fingers. "I ain't ready to go on alone again."

Across the room James and Nathan were quietly discussing the practicalities of the next stage of the operation.

"I think the ideal place to do this is the kitchen," the Englishman suggested. "There's ample room and a plentiful supply of hot water." The healer nodded in agreement as Owen continued. "I'll go and get things organised. Perhaps you can explain to Vin what we're about to do. I think it would be better coming from you." As the doctor turned to leave Nathan grabbed hold of his arm.

"What're ya gonna use to put 'im under, James?"

"Well I had intended to use chloroform. Will that be a problem?."

“Nope, that's fine. I've used it on Vin before an' I know he ain't gonna have a bad reaction to it."

“I generally find it works well, Nathan, and I have an inhaler to administer it with.” The healer had heard of such pieces of equipment and had even seen a drawing of one in a book and he would be interested in discovering how it worked.

As Owen headed for the kitchen Nathan turned and looked at Chris. The gunslinger was still sitting silently beside his friend his shoulders slumped in dejection, and he jumped as the healer touched him lightly.

"Hey, Chris - y'alright?"

"This operation... " he began looking up. "It will work, won't it?"

This was the first time Chris had voiced his fears and Nathan could see the anxiety in the hazel eyes. The gunslinger knew it was a complicated procedure, one which - as far as he was aware - Nathan had never attempted before, and he was seeking reassurance for his own peace of mind. The healer hesitated before he replied.

"I ain't about to lie t'ya, Chris. It ain't gonna be easy but I promise ya we'll do iur best."

Before he could question Nathan further Vin stirred again, blue eyes opening slowly as the tracker caught the sound of another familiar voice. The morphine was beginning to wear off now and although the pain was increasing accordingly, it also meant that he was a little more aware to what was happening around him.

"Chris?" Vin sounded confused, not sure whether he had imagined the gunslinger's presence earlier.

"I'm still here, pard," Chris assured him. "Nathan, too."

The healer gave him a quick grin as he perched on the edge of the couch, sensitive fingers curling about the Texan's wrist as he checked his pulse once again.

"I know ya hurtin' real bad, Vin, but James and I are gonna do somethin' about it." He saw the slight frown on the tracker's face as he continued. "Y'ain't gotta worry none. Ya'll sleep right through it." Nathan was not sure if Vin had understood what he had just said but he thought it best not to go into any more details for fear of alarming him. "Ya jus' try an' get some rest. It'll all be over soon."

Nathan climbed to his feet and wandered over to James Owen's desk seeing the open notebook on it, and he picked it up and started to read.

Looking at Vin's drawn face Chris could almost taste the tracker's anxiety; he knew it was a mirror image of his own feelings and as much as he tried to reassure Vin his overwhelming fear was that the operation would not go according to plan. However, he forced his concern into hiding behind a faint smile.

"I know you're scared, Vin, but you gotta trust Nathan. I do." There was a moments silence but the sincerity in the gunslinger's comment was like a soothing balm to Vin, and he gave a tight nod as he forced himself to relax.

The gunslinger watched as Vin's eyes closed and his breathing deepened. In the background he could hear the faint rustle of paper as Nathan leafed through Owen's notes, but his own thoughts were centred on the difficult operation ahead. Chris was convinced that Vin had fallen asleep so it came as a surprise when the tracker spoke.

"Chris?" The older man leaned forward as his friend regarded him awkwardly. "I need - "

"What d'you need?" Chris' face was serious as he placed a hand on Vin's bare shoulder. "Just tell me."

"I need to... pee." A slight flush crept into the tracker's cheeks as he made the request and Chris stared at him in amazement. Of all the things he had been expecting this was just about the furthest from his mind and he laughed with sudden relief. Nathan looked up and frowned at the sound of the gunslinger's mirth but before he could ask what had caused it Chris got up and came across to him, and whispered in his ear.

"He does?" The healer glanced over at the embarrassed tracker but in fact he was quite pleased. He had read in one of his books that it was preferable to perform abdominal surgery after the patient's bladder had been emptied. Vin was about to solve this problem for them naturally. "I'll see what I can find."

Nathan looked around the room until he spotted a row of assorted specimen jars on a shelf beneath the bench. Picking up one he deemed suitable the healer crossed back to the bed, a vague hint of amusement on his face.

"What's that fer?" Vin eyed the object suspiciously.

"Waal, ya don't think yer getting outta bed, d'ya?"

"I ain't gonna piss in no bottle!" The Texan was mortified, embarrassment lending strength to his statement, and his cheeks turned crimson.

"Sorry, Vin, ya ain't got a choice." Nathan turned to the gunslinger. "Chris, can ya help him sit up a bit? It'll make it easier fer him." As Chris slid an arm under Vin's shoulder and carefully eased him up, he could not resist making some comment.

"I bet none of the others have ever done it like this," he said as Vin slipped the bottle beneath the blanket.

"Fuck you, Larabee!" the tracker hissed and then gave a grunt of pain as an incautious move aggravated the throbbing in his side.

"Vin?" There was concern in Nathan's voice as the colour drained from the Texan's face.

"I'm done," he said with a faint groan and the healer discreetly retrieved the jar allowing Chris to settle Vin back against the pillow. The smile was gone from the gunslinger's face now when he saw how exhausted his friend was and the lines of pain were etched even deeper about his mouth. He waited until Vin had dropped into an uneasy doze and then he joined Nathan by the window just as James Owen returned, Will Tanner right on his heels.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed as Chris glared at the tall Texan contemptuously, and tension almost crackled in the air. The Englishman felt as though he was standing between a rock and a hard place; one wrong step would see him crushed like so much tinder. However, neither man showed any sign of resuming their ealier hostilities and the doctor threw a cursory glance at the dozing tracker before speaking to Nathan.

"I'm nearly ready. I just need a few more things."

Opening the cupboard behind his desk Owen took out a leather carrying case and a large brown bottle, placing both on the bench. Nathan recognised the bottle of chloroform immediately but he stepped forward curiously as James opened the case.

"A Junker's inhaler!" he exclaimed enthusiastically as Owen removed a slim glass bottle with rubber tubing attached to either side of an unusual looking stopper. One tube was connected to a large, flexible face-mask, while the other ended in a pair of bulbuous rubber bellows. "I never thought I'd see one of these being used."

While the two men prepared the equipment Tanner had stalked across to the couch and sat down on the edge. Chris' lips drew together in a tight thin line as the older Texan reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair back from Vin's forehead.

"Vin? Can ya hear me, son?"

"Why don't you just let him be?" The gunslinger's words were as cold as ice but Tanner ignored him. Nathan glanced round, aware that the situation was likely to get volatile again if it was not stopped quickly.

"Chris, can ya give me a hand taking these to the kitchen?" The healer handed him Owen's medical bag and a large bound book before he had a chance to protest. Carefully picking up the inhaler, Nathan preceded the gunslinger out.

While they were gone Owen made a final check on Vin watched by the anxious Tanner. Then the doctor began to tuck the blanket firmly around the tracker's body, his voice calm as he explained to the drowsy Texan what was about to happen.

Vin had reached the point where he did not care any more. He had been in pain all day, his strength just about gone, and despite his fear all he wanted was for the whole thing to be over. Owen's words simply washed over his head and he did not even know that Chris and Nathan had left and come back, accompanied by Ben Richardson.

"I think it'd be best if we move him on this," Owen suggested, indicating the heavy throw that covered the couch and Nathan nodded, knowing it would be easier and less painful for Vin. "Chris, can you go and make sure the kitchen door stays wide open?" As the gunslinger left the Englishman turned to Tanner. "Can you hold this door, Will?" Picking up the last of his instruments James went through to the kitchen.

Nathan moved to the top end of the couch and took a firm grip on the corners of the throw while Ben Richardson did the same at the bottom. The healer leaned forward and looked down at Vin.

"This might hurt a bit," he warned apologetically. "But we'll be as quick as we can. Ya 'bout ready, Ben?"

The other man nodded and they lifted Vin smoothly, easily taking the weight of the tracker between them. Vin grimaced despite their careful handling and drew a sharp breath, but otherwise he remained silent. Nathan backed along the corridor, mindful of every step and as he entered the brightly lit kitchen he glanced briefly at Chris standing by the door, hazel eyes fixed on the pain-racked form of the tracker. Looking beyond Ben's shoulder the healer could see Tanner just a step or two behind him, and then he cursed silently as he saw Chris bar the Texan's way. However, he had no time to worry about them; Vin needed his full attention.

Before she had left to fetch the clean sheets for James Owen's bed, Annie Roberts had been busy helping the doctor transform the kitchen into a makeshift operating theatre. The large wooden table had been thoroughly scrubbed and completely draped in clean white sheets that hung almost to the floor all around, and a flat pillow lay beneath the sheet at one end. The Junker's inhaler and Owen's medical kit were laid out on a smaller cloth covered table which would be moved into place when they were ready to begin.

Nathan and Ben lowered Vin onto the table as gently as they could, but the tracker gave a soft groan as he felt the unyielding surface beneath him. James reached forward and turned Vin onto his left side, holding him there as Nathan rolled up the throw that was beneath him. The two men repeated the process from the other side until the heavy covering had been removed.

"Easy, Vin," Nathan soothed as he eased the tracker onto his back once more and took the blanket from around him. "I'm just gonna clean ya up a bit before we start an' then it'll be over an' yer'll feel a whole heap better."

As he removed the cloth from the basin of warm water that Richardson held, the healer threw a quick glance at the kitchen door but it had swung shut, blocking any view of what might be occuring outside. Nathan could only hope that Chris would not do anything foolish.

Much as he wanted to stay with Vin, Chris was not going to allow the other Texan anywhere near him. As the older man reached the doorway Chris moved across, stretching out his arm and preventing him from going any further.

"Get outta my way!" Tanner growled, grabbing at the black-sleeved arm but the gunslinger gave him a push that sent him staggering back a few paces, stepping forward himself so the door closed behind him. He was not even going to give the man the briefest glimpse into the kitchen. Where Vin was concerned Chris could be very uncompromising.

"Y'ain't goin' nowhere 'til I get the truth outta you!" Chris retorted, his tone blistering enough to sear the hide from a grizzly bear as he stood his ground. "Why the hell did you come out with that bullshit in front of everyone! What's your game, Grainger? What lies've you been feeding Vin?"

Tanner visibly shook himself and gave a half-smile of resignation, willing himself to remain calm in the face of the gunslinger's seemingly unreasonable and unwarranted provocation.

"The name's Tanner and it's the truth," he stated at length. "Didn't ya ask th'boy?"

"You leave Vin outta this!" Chris snapped, failing to see the incongruity of that comment. This whole altercation had come about solely because of Vin. "He's in no state to know what's right or wrong."

"At least we agree on summat."

"I ain't agreein' with anything you say!" Chris was adamant in his belief that the man was no good, and he took a step forward.

"I ain't about to fight wit' ya, Larabee. Not while my boy's lying sick in that room." Tanner pointed towards the kitchen to emphasise his point, and Chris hesitated momentarily as the Texan pressed home his advantage. "What is it ya don't like about me? I thought ya were his friend? Y'all just confusin' things."

Chris could feel the anger building inside him at the Texan's gall. How dare he accuse him of clouding the situation? He was the one misleading Vin. The gunslinger did not trust the man's motives any more than he understood his own adverse reaction to him.

"Confusing? Don't you think - " Chris never had the chance to finish what he was about to say. Nathan's frantic yell stopped him in mid-sentence and both men froze. Then the gunslinger was moving, spinning on his heel as Nathan's voice called out again.

They were finally ready to proceed and James Owen was amazed how calm he was, all trace of his earlier nervousness having vanished as he concentrated on the complex undertaking ahead. His years of training and finely honed instincts took over as he nodded for Ben Richardson to move the instrument table forward, close enough for him to reach everything but out of Vin Tanner's direct line of sight.

A slight frown creased his brow as he studied the tracker. Vin had lain silent and completely passive as Nathan had carefully washed around his abdomen and groin area, barely opening his eyes as Owen placed a clean sheet over him, leaving just the right hand side of his stomach exposed, but he was beginning to get a little worried. He could see the way the Texan's hands clenched and unclenched, and hear the change as his breathing grew harsher. Looking up he found Nathan watching him and he could see his own worry reflected in the healer's dark eyes. Reaching out he touched Vin lightly on the forearm, startling the tracker back to awareness.

"Vin, I'm going to give you something to make you sleep. It won't be very pleasant, but when you wake up the pain will be gone and you'll feel much better. Do you understand?"

Vin tried to swallow past the lump in his throat but his mouth was dry with fear and he could not seem to take a steadying breath. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest and every muscle was rigid with tension as he gave the briefest of nods. Turning his head a fraction he could see Nathan standing to his left and his friend gave him a reassuring smile, aware of how scared he was.

"Now, I'm going to place the mask over your face," Owen went on. "All you have to do is breathe normally, and you'll feel yourself drifting off to sleep." Glancing across at the healer Owen picked up the mask and turned it into the correct position. Nathan's fingers closed about Vin's left wrist ready to monitor his pulse as the Englishman started to lower the face-piece of the inhaler over the tracker's nose and mouth. He saw the Texan's eyes widen in sudden fear and instinctively knew what was going to happen next but he was unable to prevent it.

Vin's breathing quickened dramatically as the unfamiliar object loomed large in his vision and his right arm shot up, knocking the mask from Owen's hand. The Englishman made a wild grab as the inhaler wobbled precariously, leaving Nathan to deal with the panic-stricken patient. The healer caught hold of his friend's right wrist now, forcing his arms down against his heaving chest to stop him lashing out, but he was finding it difficult to hold onto the aggitated young Texan.

"Easy, Vin. Just calm down - yer gonna hurt yerself!" Nathan could feel the tracker's pulse racing as he tried to keep him still and his breathing became increasingly ragged and erratic.

"No. No... Chris!"

The three words were almost a moan as they tumbled from Vin's lips. He did not even hear Nathan's voice through the red mists of panic that flooded his mind; he could only feel the vice-like grip that encircled his wrists and held him down. Owen glanced frantically at the healer as Vin continued to struggle.

"Do something, Nathan! He's likely to have a seizure!"

The healer did not hesitate. He yelled for Chris.

Chris Larabee burst through the kitchen door with fear snapping at his heels. He had heard the strain in Nathan's voice and his stomach gave a queasy roll as he considered all the possible reasons for the healer's frantic cry.

"What the... ? Nathan, what's happened?" All he could see was Nathan hunched over the squirming tracker as he lay on the table and he could hear Vin's panicked gasps as he fought against the healer.

"Ya gotta try an' calm him! It's the inhaler. I should've realised... "

"Realised what?" Owen demanded as the healer paused.

"It's that contraption yer tryin' t'stick over his face! He's scared o' being shut in," Tanner explained. He had been right behind Chris when he entered the kitchen and now both Nathan and the gunslinger stared at the Texan in disbelief. "Always has been. Ever since he was a kid." The man stepped forward, his troubled gaze on Vin. "Let me talk to him. I'll - "

"You stay the hell away from him!"

Chris' eyes were like flint as he glared at the older man but he did not allow his antipathy to distract him from the distressed tracker. Nathan glanced over at Owen and shook his head quickly; the healer knew that Vin would not react to anybody but Chris at this precise moment, and Ben Richardson placed a restraining hand on Tanner's shoulder.

"Let it be, Will. Nathan knows what he's doing." The Texan shrugged off the hand and moved back with ill-concealed reluctance, angry that Richardson should side with the gunslinger.

"Hey, Vin."

Nathan stepped aside as the gunslinger came to stand next to him, placing a hand on Vin's shoulder. Chris' words were softly spoken but the effect was immediate. Vin stopped his desperate struggles and his eyes flickered open as he responded to the man's voice.

"Chris?"

"I'm right here, pard. I ain't goin' nowhere." The relief in Vin's eyes was plain to see, but his next comment gave a clearer indication of how distraught he was.

"Don't make me sleep!" It was a plea from the heart and the Texan reached out for his friend. Chris could see how fearful the tracker was, but he also knew that there was no other choice. He placed his left hand over Vin's, his fingers interlacing with the Texan's as he tried to convey his concern and the unspoken message in the frantic blue gaze was obvious.

Get me outta here, cowboy.

"You gotta let 'em do it, Vin. It's the only way." Chris could almost taste the younger man's fear and it was as though he could read his very thoughts. Vin was scared that if he allowed himself to be put to sleep he would never wake up.

"I can't." Vin stared up at Chris as he made the whispered admission; he knew the gunslinger was right but it did not alleviate his terror. Chris could feel Vin's grip tightening around his fingers and he looked to Nathan for support. The healer glanced at the inhaler and then regarded Chris solemnly.

"I think yer gonna have to do it," he said softly so only the gunslinger could hear and Chris' lips tightened as he acknowledged what the healer was asking him to do.

"Vin - look at me!" He waited until the tracker's attention was focussed on him. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Ya gotta ask?" There was no hesitation in Vin's reply.

"Haven't we always watched out for each other? Trust me now with this."

Vin ran the tip of his tongue around dry lips as he realised what the gunslinger was suggesting and he gave an almost imperceptible nod, knowing that he had no choice. He could not recall how many times he had trusted his life to this man and now he was ready to offer that same unswerving faith as Chris lead him into a terrifying unknown.

Without looking up Chris wordlesssly held his hand out to Owen, unwilling to break eye contact with the trusting Texan. As he grasped the unfamiliar mask, the Englishman's hand covering his own as he guided it into place, he felt the tracker stiffen.

"Just breathe slowly," he urged, wincing as Vin's fingers tightened reflexively about his own. "It's gonna be okay."

Owen shook his head in amazement as he saw the transformation in Vin, wondering how this dangerous gunslinger could have wrought such a calming influence in the space of a few short minutes.

"Chris - are you ready?" His hands were poised around the double bellows, prepared to start the rythmic pumping that would force the gas and air mix down the tube and through the mask. However, he would do nothing until Chris gave the word.

"Yeah. Just go ahead," he replied without looking away from the tracker.

Vin heard Owen ask the question and he instinctively tensed as the first sweet whiff of the chloroform burned in his nostrils. He held his breath for a moment, unwilling to capitulate immediately even though his heightened senses brought the pain in his side into sharp focus. He gasped as the agony flared in his stomach but then he realised the gunslinger's hazel gaze had not wavered, and the grip on his hand gave him the courage to let go.

"That's it, Vin. Just breathe. Breathe."

The gunslinger's voice held a soporific quality and Vin held the eye contact as long as he possibly could, breathing slowly and evenly as Chris coaxed him along. The last vestiges of panic faded as his senses started to wander, his limbs becoming heavy and leaden as the chloroform wrapped him in its narcotic embrace. The last thing he saw as sleep claimed him was the face of Chris Larabee looking down at him and he tried to smile, safe and secure in the knowledge that he would not be alone.

Chris found himself breathing in unison with the tracker as he slowly succumbed to the anaesthetic, eyelids flickering as he tried to fight the drug seeping into him. Then Vin’s blue eyes clouded over and closed, his head lolling slightly to one side as the chloroform took its full effect. The gunslinger was aware of Nathan leaning forward and placing his stethoscope over the tracker's heart, but he did not look up until Vin's eyes were tightly shut and the young Texan's hand had gone limp beneath his own.

"I think that's enough, James," the healer said. "His heartbeat's slowed right down, but he's breathing fine."

Chris started as Owen reached across and gently removed the mask from his fingers, and he stared down at his friend's peaceful face for a long moment, convinced that Vin's lips were curved in a slight smile.

"Chris." James' hand dropped onto his shoulder. "It's time we got started, and I think it would be best if you and Will left."

Chris had been so caught up with Vin that he had almost forgotten the other Texan's presence, and he glared across at him as the doctor's words reminded him. To his surprise, he saw that the older man was already starting to leave along with Ben Richardson, but Chris hesitated. His gaze dropped to Vin's relaxed features once more and then he shot a quick look at the healer.

"Nathan?" The question was unmistakable. I'll leave - but only if you tell me.

"Go. He'll be okay. I'll be here with him the whole time." Nathan hoped that Owen would not take offence at Chris' implied lack of faith, but he need not have worried. The Englishman was beginning to see another side of the gunslinger now, and his respect for the man had increased.

Chris moved away from the table, slowly relinquishing his hold on Vin's hand, but then he stopped as James Owen cursed softly. The man had one of his leather bound books open on the table beside the inhaler, pressing down firmly as he tried to stop the pages turning.

'What's wrong?" Nathan knew why the doctor had the medical journal in the kitchen; there was a very specific description of an appendectomy in the volume, complete with detailed drawings about the exact size and placement of the incision.

"I can't get the damn pages to stay open," he snapped with an irritated sigh. "I need something to hold them down."

Chris turned and regarded the younger man with hooded eyes. Then he drew his Colt, the weapon pinwheeling on his forefinger before he passed it, butt forward, to the disconcerted Englishman.

"Here. Maybe this'll help." As Owen reached forward to take it Chris held his grip on it a little longer than was necessary. "I know Nathan thinks very highly of you, but Vin's my friend. I just hope that his faith's justified." There was no menace in the gunslinger's voice. It was just a calm, simple statement of fact. As he released the gun and turned to leave, Nathan caught a glimpse of Chris' strained features.

"Chris, why don't ya see if ya can find a drink? Ya look like ya need one right now."

Nathan's insistent urging penetrated Chris' whirling thoughts and he nodded mutely, his face an unreadable mask. Resting his hand lightly on the tracker's tousled head he bent down, putting his mouth close to the sleeping man's ear as he murmured a few words to his friend.

"Hey Vin, I know you can't hear me but I'll be waiting just outside this door 'til you wake up, so don't you dare quit on me! I ain't about to lose you. Not now - not ever!" He stood silently for a moment regarding the tracker, painfully aware that if things went badly wrong this might be the last time he saw his friend alive. Straightening up again, Chris gave Nathan a grim look. His private and personal message to the younger man still echoed through his mind, and he drew a small measure of comfort from the words as he left the room, not trusting himself to say any more,

Owen turned Chris' Colt over and laid it across the pages of the book, the weight more than sufficient to prevent them from turning. As he stared down at the two items the subtle imagery was not lost on him. The book contained knowledge to help save lives, while the Colt could dispense death faster than a heartbeat. He wondered which was the more powerful tool.

"Chris seems a touch overprotective," Owen pointed out as he scrubbed his hands thoroughly.

"He is when it comes to Vin," Nathan replied. "But don't let him worry ya."

That was easier said than done, and Owen felt a shiver run down his spine as he took a final look at the gun. Then he ignored it. Moving the instrument table down almost level with the sleeping tracker's waist he picked up an alcohol soaked cloth, and swabbed the area across Vin's stomach and groin, paying particular attention to his right side. Tossing the cloth back into a bowl he selected a thin bladed scalpel from amongst the instruments.

"Are you ready, Nathan?"

The healer gave him a confident nod as he moved his stethoscope into place. Part of Nathan's job would be to keep the wound clear of blood during the surgery, but his main task would be to monitor Vin's vital signs, making certain that the tracker remained completely unconscious and did not become unduly distressed.

Taking a steadying breath Owen held the blade poised over the Texan's tanned skin and then he pressed down firmly, blood welling from the wound as he made the incision. Nathan was relieved to detect no change in Vin's heart-rate as the razor sharp steel cut easily though unresisting flesh and muscle, and he glanced up quickly at the clock on the dresser. Five-fifteen. James Owen expected the procedure to take no more than an hour, providing there were no complications. It would be the longest sixty minutes of the healer's life, and he knew that to Chris Larabee waiting anxiously outside it would seem like an eternity.

Part Three

Chris Larabee stood outside the kitchen for a moment staring anxiously at the closed door almost as though he could see through the wooden panels. Never had he felt so helpless than at this very moment. The gunslinger was a man who did not wear patience well, but in this matter he had no choice. He trusted Nathan implicitely and he knew that the healer would do his utmost to ensure that Vin came through this delicate operation successfully, but he knew next to nothing about Owen's abilities and the lingering doubts remained.

Chris would probably have waited outside the door for the duration if Ben Richardson had not appeared further down the hallway, a bottle in one hand and three glasses in the other. As he approached the gunslinger he held up the bottle.

"Care to join me, Chris? I think we could do with this."

Chris hesitated, his promise to Vin holding him immobile for a moment, but he knew it would be a while before Nathan and James finished the operation. He would be back before then. Accepting the Englishman's invitation with a brief nod the gunslinger followed him back into the doctor's study.

The heavy curtains were still open, but now a welcoming fire glowed brightly in the hearth, its occasional cracks and hisses the only sounds to be heard. The sun was hanging just above the horizon and the silence within the virtually empty house corresponded with the equally peaceful hush from the deserted yard outside.

"Sit down," Ben said, pouring a generous measure of the liquor and handing it to Chris. "You look tired." He had expected Will Tanner to be here as well; when they had left the kitchen the Texan had made it quite plain that he was going to wait in James' room but he had clearly changed his mind.

Swallowing half his drink in one gulp the gunslinger crossed to one of the high backed easy chairs beside the fire and sat down, stretching out his long legs as he waited for Nathan to call him. Resting his head back he rolled the cold glass over his forehead, only now becoming aware of the pounding tension headache behind his eyes, and for a while at least he tried to relax.

"I know you're worried," Ben went on picking up his own drink and dropping into the seat opposite. "But James will do everything he can. He qualified with the highest marks of his year." It did not seem like much comfort to offer the concerned gunslinger but there was little else Richardson could say without sounding trite. The Englishman kept well clear of the subject of Will being Vin's father; he knew Chris did not believe it at all, and until Vin could confirm it all any of them had was the Texan's own word.

The gunslinger remained silent. Whilst he could appreciate Ben's attempts to reassure him, he would rather be left alone with his thoughts. The sound of a burning log spitting and shifting in the grate made Chris jump and he watched in fascination as the swirling cinders of burning wood were sucked up the chimney flue. Closing his eyes his mind turned over the startling events of the day, and he cursed the delay that stopped him from accompanying the tracker on the survey. He knew that his presence alone would not have prevented Vin from becoming ill, but at least he would have been with him.

Richardson took another thoughtful sip of his drink and set the glass down before pushing himself to his feet. It was obvious that Chris was in no mood for company but the Englishman was not offended. Even in the short time he had known them the strong bond of friendship between the gunslinger and Vin was very evident and he could sympathise with the other's pain.

"I won't be a minute, Chris. I just need to speak to Mrs Roberts about the arrangements for tonight. The poor woman's quite concerned about where everyone's going to sleep."

Chris opened his eyes with a jolt; he had almost forgotten that Ben was in the room and he felt a vague twinge of guilt for his inattention.

"Don't worry about us. I doubt we'll get much sleep until we know - " He stopped, unable to voice his true fears, but Richardson knew what he meant.

"Well, I'll speak to her anyway," he said. As he reached the door Chris shifted in his chair and looked at him.

"Ben?" As the Englishman paused Chris gave him a faint smile. "Thanks," he said softly. Richardson nodded and returned the smile before leaving the room.

A further ten minutes or so passed, and Chris took solace from the fact that he had heard no sound of alarm from the kitchen. He had already been told by Nathan that the operation would probably take at least an hour, so the gunslinger was secure in the knowledge that at the moment there was no problem with the tracker.

Climbing to his feet, the black dressed man placed the empty whisky glass on the desk and went to look out of the window. Chris noticed that the bottom sash was open halfway as the chilly breeze rushed past him, and he was about to close it when a familiar sound drifted along on the wind. Someone outside was playing a haunting tune on a harmonica, and although the instrument could have been played by any one of the men at the ranch, the image that sprang into his mind was that of Vin Tanner sitting around a campfire and blowing a series of haphazard notes.

Chris’ gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the tracker’s pile of discarded clothing on a chair, and seeing the rumpled buckskin jacket atop the mound he walked over and picked the coat up. With a frown he patted the pockets, fully expecting to find Vin’s battered but treasured mouth organ in one of them, knowing the younger man always carried it wherever he went. The gunslinger’s eyes narrowed in suspicion when he failed to locate the little instrument, and hastily dropping the coat back onto the chair he sped out of the room and along the corridor to the front door.

Striding purposefully out onto the porch Chris saw Will Grainger - he still refused to think of him as Will Tanner - sitting casually on the low wall, the harmonica at his lips. The gunslinger stopped, fully convinced that he was prepared for this situation, but he was wrong. The sight of the Texan seemingly so unconcerned infuriated him.

Tanner let the last note die away as he lowered the harmonica, staring intently at the gunslinger as he exited the house. He was ready for any further round of verbal sparring that Chris Larabee might throw at him, but he was not prepared for the gunslinger's next move. Chris lunged forward and snatched the harmonica from the unsuspecting Texan's fingers, lashing out with his right hand. The vicious backhanded blow snapped the older man's head back and he tumbled over the wall, sprawling on his back in the dirt. Although he landed quite heavily he was more surprised than hurt and he quickly scrambled to his feet, his face showing his annoyance.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded furiously as Chris stepped off the porch to confront him.

"This is Vin's!" The gunslinger held the harmonica up, almost thrusting it in the other man's face. "What gives you the right to go through his things?"

"My pa gave that to him," Tanner stated with utter conviction, wiping a smear of blood from his top lip. "I reckon that gives me the right!"

"You're a lying bastard!" Chris snarled menacingly, the muscles in his arms straining with pent-up fury.

Although there was a vast disparity in the two protagonists ages, they were comparable in size, strength and temperament; it was nothing short of a miracle that the pair had not either slugged it out in the dirt or faced each other with guns before now. However, the rage that had been building in Chris Larabee throughout the day was about to erupt. His fingers curled into a fist but this time the Texan was ready for him, bringing up his left hand to block the blow. Tanner landed a roundhouse punch to the gunslinger's jaw and Chris measured his length on the ground, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. As he started to roll onto his knees the Texan kicked out and caught him viciously in the back, giving him no time to recover as he snatched at a handful of dark blond hair and hauled him to his feet.

The gunslinger hissed with pain, letting go of the harmonica as his hands reached up and closed about Tanner's wrist to stop his upward momentum. Yanking down hard on the arm he dragged the Texan forward, but as Will Tanner felt his equilibrium going he released his hold on the gunslinger, placing his hand on the back of the younger man's head and grinding his face along the top of the low wall.

"Just keep yer nose out my family's business, Larabee," he grated, scraping the gunslinger's cheek along the stone until the blood left faint scarlet streaks. Chris drew a deep breath and thrust his elbow back, driving the hard bone into the Texan's stomach. As the older man doubled over with a grunt of pain, Chris twisted and his right hand came up and smashed into his face. Tanner dropped as though he had been pole-axed, blood streaming from his mouth and nose and Chris stood over him breathing hard.

"I don't know who the hell you are but you sure ain't no kin of his!" As the gunslinger stepped contemptuously away the Texan stretched out his leg, hooking his right foot around Chris' ankle and kicking at the back of his knee with the left. Knocked off balance and already falling the younger man flung out his hands to save himself, unaware that his opponent had already scrambled to his feet to follow up the manoeuvre. As Chris hit the ground Tanner brought the heel of his boot down hard on the gunslinger’s outstretched left hand and stomped it into the dust. Chris gave a cry of agony as the crack of breaking bones filtered through his consciousness, and with a gasping hiss of pain he jerked his injured hand away. Cradling the damaged fingers to his chest he rolled sideways, but he was unable to evade the next blow. The gunslinger’s unprotected torso presented the older man with the perfect opportunity and he lashed out with his foot once again, catching him squarely in the ribs with a precise kick.

“I’m bound to that boy, Larabee, more than ya could ever hope to be!" Tanner's words sounded nasally, his nose obviously broken by the gunslinger's earlier punch. "We’re family, tied by blood. If ya had a son of yer own ya’d understand that.”

Chris reacted as though he had been dealt a deathblow, and the Texan’s vicious comment almost negated the painful throbbing that coursed through his upper body and injured hand. The image of his lost child suddenly surfaced in his mind, and with an inarticulate cry of rage he staggered to his feet and hurled himself at Tanner, tumbling both men to the ground again.

“What do you fucking know about family? You abandoned yours!” Chris swung his right fist around as he knealt astride the Texan, rocking the man's head back with a series of blows. Before the gungslinger could land a third punch Tanner's left hand came up, powerful fingers clamping about Chris' wrist to halt the punishment whilst his right hand scrabbled around on the ground. As he tried to pull the younger man off he flung a fistful of dirt straight into the hazel eyes.

"Bastard!" Chris hissed, jerking his arm free as he clawed at his streaming eyes, unable to see anything for a moment. Taking advantage of the other's temporary blindness Tanner brought his knee up and thrust Chris off of him, rolling free himself. As he staggered to his feet he grasped the front of the gunslinger's shirt and dragged him up with him. Flinging his arms about the peacekeeper, Tanner caught him in a bone-crushing bearhug. Chris gave a gasp of pain as the Texan laced his fingers together in the small of his back and started to squeeze. As the pressure increased, driving the air from his lungs, the gunslinger found it hard to draw a breath. In desperation he placed his hand on Tanner's face, forcing the heel against the man's broken nose.

The Texan gave a howl of pain and relinquished his fierce hold as he stumbled back, his hands going to his bleeding face. Drawing a deep breath, Chris brought his knee up viciously into the older man's groin. Tanner gave a choking gasp and dropped to his knees, his hands going to the new point of pain as he doubled over and retched into the dirt. However, Chris had no time to savour the moment; exhausted himself he tottered back a few paces and sat down hard, his head drooping as he gulped air into his tortured lungs. The intensity of the savage fight and the traumatic events of the day were beginning to take their toll, and there was not a single part of him that did not hurt. His ribs ached with every heaving gasp, and the fingers of his left hand were beginning to swell so that he could barely move them.

"I'm gonna... kill ya for... that!" Tanner gritted out painfully, and he started to drag his gun from its holster. Chris had the feeling that it would come to this eventually, but as his own hand dipped towards his gunbelt he suddenly froze, remembering with horror exactly where his Colt was. Cold fear clutched at his heart as he prepared to face death from the enraged Texan.

"That's about what I'd expect from a lying bastard like you!" Chris grated as he spread his hands out palms upward. For the first time Tanner realised that the peacekeeper was unarmed, and sanity re-asserted itself. He would almost certainly face the hangman's rope if he killed him, and even if the extenuating circumstances were taken into account it would destroy everything he had hoped to gain with Vin.

"I don't need to kill ya to take what's rightfully mine!" the Texan spat letting the gun drop back and he lunged forward, knocking the surprised Chris Larabee flat.

Neither man had the strength to do much more than flail wildly at the other causing little further damage, but as they rolled around in the dirt Chris suddenly found that he had the advantage, and he seized the opportunity.

Annie Roberts came down the main stairs with an armful of clean sheets and blankets ready to make up a bed for James Owen on the couch in his office. She had already lit the fire and replaced the linen on the bed in his own room that adjoined it, fully aware that he intended to use it for the young tracker once the operation was over.

As she reached the entrance hall she frowned when she noticed that the front door was open, but as she stepped forward to close it she could hear the faint sounds of commotion from the yard. Curiously the woman walked out onto the porch and she dropped the bedding in shock, her hands flying to her mouth as her horrified gaze took in the vicious scene before her.

Ben Richardson heard Annie scream as he came out of his bedroom and he flung himself down the stairs, almost taking the last two in a single stride. Rushing through the open door the skidded to a halt on the edge of the porch beside the frightened housekeeper, and stared in stunned disbelief.

"Oh my God!" he breathed. When he had left Chris Larabee sitting morosely in James' office nursing a large whiskey, he had thought that the man would remain there until James and Nathan had finished the operation. He did not realise how wrong he was. Will Tanner was lying flat on his back in the dirt with the gunslinger straddling him, and Chris' hands were tightly locked around the other man's throat as he tried to throttle him. "Chris! No!"

The gunslinger was oblivious to the two people on the porch; the blood-red mists of fury engulfed him, driving all sense of reason from his mind. All he wanted to do was squeeze the life from the Texan. Chris never even felt Ben Richardson's hands as the Englishman tried frantically to haul him away.

+ + + + + + +

Buck Wilmington was not one to sit idly by while things were going wrong, and despite Chris Larabee's assurances that everything would be alright he had considered it his bounden duty to follow the gunslinger and Nathan when they left town.

The ladies man could see how worried Chris was when he had dropped by the saloon to tell them what was happening. Buck was aware how dangerous appendicitis could be, and he was very conscious of the fact that Chris would react badly if the worst happened.

He had held his grey to an easy lope the entire way, knowing that he was not going to catch the fast moving trio, but content simply to follow. Dusk was fast approaching as he rode up to the house, but he was unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. In the fading light he could see two men sprawled on the ground, while a third was struggling to drag the two combatants apart.

As he dropped from the back of his gelding he realised that one of the men was Chris and he rushed forward, flinging his arms around his black dressed friend and physically lifting him to his feet as he pulled him away.

"What the hell's going on?" Buck exclaimed, hanging on tightly to the struggling gunslinger. "Ben?" He looked at the Englishman as he leaned over Tanner. The older man was massaging his bruised throat as he sucked air into his lungs.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I heard Annie scream... " Richardson stopped; he did not know what had happened to set the two men brawling in his front yard.

Chris had stopped fighting against the encircling arms, knowing from past experience that Buck was not going to release him until he was ready. Breathing hard, sniffing against the blood that plastered his face, he glared murderously at Tanner as RIchardson helped him to his feet.

"Let me go, Buck," the gunslinger hissed angrily, his whole body tense, and Buck knew that despite the tone of his voice Chris was not about to resume hostilities. The ladies man slowly loosened his grip, watching as his friend stepped forward and bent down, grimacing as he straightened up again and stalked stiffly away to sit carefully on the bench against the wall of the house.

"Will, what's going on?" Buck turned to Tanner as Ben kept a firm grip on the Texan's elbow.

"Ya'd best ask yer friend!" Tanner forced out hoarsely, still rubbing his throat. He was livid now, smarting at the apparently unprovoked attack. Blood trickled from his nose and dripped slowly down his chin, matching the marks on Chris Larabee's face, and Richardson handed him a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding.

"Come on, Will. Let's get you cleaned up." The Englishman led him away, noticing in passing that Annie Roberts had already disappeared, and left the other two Americans alone. Buck shook his head and went across to his horse, fastening the reins to the hitching rail and removing the canteen from the saddle before going back to sit beside Chris, his moustache quivering as he silently handed it to his friend.

Chris took the canteen without a word and then realised he could not undo it one-handed. Clasping it awkwardly to his chest with his left arm, he unscrewed the lid and rinsed his mouth, spitting the bloody residue out.before leaning back and pouring some more water over his face. As he blinked the remaining dirt from his eyes he felt Buck take the canteen from his grasp.

"What did y'do to your hand?" the ladies man asked, seeing the way his friend cradled it protectively against his chest.

"I think it's broke." Chris' voice was strained. As the adrenaline seeped from his body he realised he was hurting and tired and he hunched forward, staring at his swollen fingers.

"Aw hell, Chris!" Taking off his bandana Buck soaked it with water and carefully wrapped it around the gunslinger's hand, trying to ignore the hiss of pain from the other man. "So - are y'gonna tell me what that was all about?"

The taciturn gunslinger glanced sideways at him as he swept his damp hair back from his forehead. He was trying his damndest to calm down, to try and get his simmering rage under control before it consumed him. Reaching into his pocket he drew out the harmonica and stared down at it. Despite his claims - and in Chris' eyes there was no proof - the other Texan had no right to rifle through Vin's belongings. The gunslinger saw it almost as an act of theft, and he felt that he had scored a moral victory by retrieving the object for his friend.

"He had no right to take it."

"Who? What?" Buck was confused by Chris' sotto voce comment. "What's going on, Chris?" The ladies man could see no reason why Chris and Will Grainger were brawling with the very real intent of causing each other serious harm.

"Grainger." The gunslinger almost spat the name out. "He says he's Vin's father."

"What the... ? Vin's father?" Buck was stunned, hardly crediting what Chris had just told him. As far as he and the others knew the tracker had no family left alive. "But I thought he was dead. Hell, Vin's never mentioned him before!" The gunslinger surged to his feet, wincing as he pressed his hand to the small of his back, and turned to face Buck.

"Grainger's a lying bastard!"

Buck regarded his friend, seeing the lines of anger and worry on his face, and then he glanced at the harmonica in his hand.

"How's Vin doing?" he asked suddenly, feeling a little guilty that he had not ventured the question before. Chris sighed and glanced at the front door.

"Nathan and Owen are operating now. We'll know soon enough."

Now the ladies man was beginning to understand why Chris was so tense. Not only was Vin undergoing major surgery, the gunslinger also had to contend with the fact that a man he had disliked and mistrusted from the beginning was now purporting to be his best friend's long lost father. It was almost too much to deal with.

"Does Vin know?"

"How the hell should I know?" Chris' anger was quick to return. "I can't ask him when he's so sick."

"He's gonna be okay, Chris. Hell, he's got two doctors looking after him. You can't ask for more'n that."

"Mebbe." Chris pocketed the harmonica and sank down onto the bench once more, groaning as he jarred bruised and throbbing muscles. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers across his brow as the headache started to pound with renewed ferocity.

"So, if he is Vin's pa why has it taken him so long to find him? Where's he been?" Buck tried to steer the conversation away from the desperately ill tracker and satisfy his own curiosity at the same time. The gunslinger opened one eye and gave his friend a scathing look.

"Who the hell cares!" he growled. "He ain't Vin's pa!"

"Well, why's he said he is? What does he want?" Like Chris, Buck was trying to work out the reasons behind the Texan's disclosure. Surely Grainger would not make such a startling revelation without some kind of evidence to back his claim? "Supposing he's telling the truth? If Vin accepts him... " Buck's voice trailed away as he saw the denial etched on the gunslinger's face. This was something Chris did not want to hear, and did not want to think about, and he knew he had found the answer. "That's it. That's what you're afraid of."

"What?" Chris' reply was low and sullen.

"You're afraid he's gonna take Vin away from you." Buck jumped in with both feet. That was something he could understand only too well. It was the same feeling he had had that first day in Four Corners when he had been reunited with his oldest friend only to discover that the young tracker had taken his place at Chris' side, almost like the gunslinger's other half.

"Buck, sometimes you come out with such crap!" Chris gave a harsh laugh, but the ladies man was nearer to the truth than he was willing to admit.

"I've been told that once or twice." Buck smiled as he said it. "Y'know, when you first hooked up with Vin, I was kinda jealous." Chris looked at him in surprise.

"Jealous? What the hell for?"

"I've been asking myself that ever since," the ladies man admitted. He never thought he would be having this conversation with Chris, but now just seemed to be the right time. "I felt like he was taking my place, that all those years of friendship counted for nothing. It was like you'd known him all your life, and yet you'd just met."

The gunslinger just stared at his friend open-mouthed. He had never dreamed that Buck had felt like that, but it went a long way to explain some of the tension that existed between Vin and the ladies man.

"You never told me that." Chris' tone was almost accusing, and Buck shrugged.

"What was the point? Besides, that boy did something I never could. He gave you a purpose in life - and he made you care about people again."

"Maybe that's the whole problem." Chris' voice was bitter as he stared off into the distance, almost talking to himself. He had stopped caring when he had lost his family, and launched himself into a downward spiral of self-destruction. Vin had been the one to drag him back from the brink, then and many times since, and he could not bear the thought of losing another part of his life. "What if he don't make it, Buck?"

"Then would you regret having known him? I know I wouldn't."

There was nothing Chris could say to that and the two men fell silent, lost in their own thoughts as they listened to the faint buzz of insects as the night closed in around them. The gunslinger shivered as his sweat damp clothes dried against his skin, but he was reluctant to move. He knew that Richardson had taken Grainger into the house somewhere, and he had no wish to come face to face with him again. He knew that he would most probably have strangled him if Buck had not come along when he did, and if Vin survived and eventually accepted the man as his father then his feelings towards the older Texan would not change. Rightly or wrongly the sense of distrust and emnity that the gunslinger felt for him would remain, and it would totally destroy his friendship with Vin. Finding himself in a no win situation was not something Chris was comfortable with.

Nathan felt as though he had aged ten years in the last hour and a half, and he was physically and mentally drained. Placing the light dressing over the neatly stitched, four inch long incision, he taped it carefully in place and then pulled a clean sheet up to Vin's chin. Checking his pulse and breathing once more he turned to James Owen. The young doctor was still cleaning and packing away some of his instruments, and he started as Nathan placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ya did a real fine job there," the healer praised, his voice filled with relief.

"I couldn't have done it without your help," James acknowledged, glancing across at the unconscious tracker. "I think it'd be best to leave him here for a while before we move him into my room. I just want to be certain that everything's fine."

"Alright. I'll go find Chris. He'll want to know Vin's okay."

Nathan washed and dried his hands and then left the kitchen, pausing just outside as he wondered where Chris might be. Knowing the gunslinger he was probably pacing on the porch outside, and as he moved down the hallway he could see that the front door was open and assumed that his guess was right. As he stepped out the healer was only faintly surprised to find Buck sitting beside the gunslinger. He knew that the ladies man had wanted to come with them originally, and he was glad that Chris at least had had some company to share his anxious vigil. Buck glanced at the healer and gave him a nod of acknowledgement as Nathan stopped in front of them.

The gunslinger sat with his head back and his eyes closed, and Nathan frowned when he saw the blood and bruises marking his face.

"Chris?" The other man's eyes snapped open, the anxiety instantly there as he regarded the healer, and Nathan gave him a brief smile. "We're done."

Chris pushed himself stiffly to his feet, grimacing as aching muscles pulled and tensed. "Is he alright?"

"Why don't ya come and see fer yerself." Nathan held back the obvious questions; he did not need to be a mind reader to know that Chris had finally had the threatened run-in with Will Tanner. The healer saw his shoulders sag with relief as he led the two men through to the kitchen.

As they reached the door Buck hung back. It was enough for him to know that Vin was okay but he realised that Chris needed to see for himself, and he was happy to give his black-dressed friend that space.

Chris was not even aware that Buck had remained outside. Nothing mattered to him except the still form of the tracker lying on the table in front of him. However, as he stepped forward he was not prepared for how ill Vin looked. The young Texan's face was as pale as the sheet covering him, his skin almost translucent in the lamplight, and Chris could barely see the imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. His mind was beginning to wonder whether he had misinterpreted Nathan's words, and he clutched at the edge of the table as he felt the room start to spin around him.

Nathan saw the gunslinger sway, saw his face blanch, and he knew that Chris was on the verge of collapse. Dragging a chair forward he thrust the gunslinger down into it, feeling him trembling with reaction as he continued to stare at the unconscious tracker.

"Chris? Ya alright?" The healer crouched down beside him, one hand on his knee as he looked up worriedly into his eyes.

"Dammit, Nathan. You could've warned me." Chris sounded shaken and the healer squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. In all honesty Nathan had not given it a thought; they had been so preoccupied with the intricacies of the operation itself that they had not considered how other people would perceive the end result.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't think." The healer had had his own worries during the course of the procedure. At one point Vin's heart rate had suddenly increased, and it looked as though he had been on the point of waking. Despite their concerns about giving him more chloroform they had had no choice; the last thing they had wanted was Vin coming to prematurely. "He lost a lot more blood than we figgered on. That's why he looks so white, but if we'd waited any longer his appendix would've ruptured and there'd have been no saving him." Nathan eyed the gunslinger's battered face, knowing he wasn't going to accept the next comment with good grace. "You've got Will to thank for that. If he hadn't come when he did we'd probably've lost him."

Chris made no reply. He could understand what Nathan was saying but there was no way this side of Hell freezing over that the gunslinger was going to thank Grainger for anything. With a sigh, he reached out and touched Vin's cheek lightly with his fingers; he had seen more colour on a dead body and he wanted to reassure himself that the Texan was still alive.

"How long before he wakes up?" he wanted to know.

"Reckon it'll be a few hours yet. We're gonna move him to James' room in a while, but you gotta realise, Chris - he ain't gonna be able to travel for three or four weeks at least." The gunslinger stared at him appalled but Nathan was adamant. "This was a very serious operation. He's gotta have time to heal, but James'll be with him."

Chris looked up, and there was pleading in his eyes. "Can't you stay with him?" It was not that he did not believe that the doctor was more than capable of caring for the tracker; it was the thought of leaving him under the same roof as Grainger that really bothered him.

"I can stay for a few days, but then I gotta get back. Ya gotta trust James."

"It ain't James I'm worried about." The gunslinger would not be drawn further and he fixed his attention on the motionless tracker, prepared to wait all night if necessary until he woke up. Nathan saw the determined set to his jaw, and then he glanced down at Chris' left hand which was cradled in his lap.

"Ya gonna let me take a look at that hand now?" he said as he straightened up.

"Leave it. It's alright."

"Chris, I ain't blind. I know ya've been fighting with Tanner, and yer hurting summat fierce. Let me help."

With a resigned shrug Chris held out his left hand, and Nathan carefully unwound the bandana from his fingers. The gunslinger sucked in a sharp breath as Nathan gently touched each finger in turn, and he could feel the sweat trickling down his face.

"Reckon ya've busted these two," the healer said, indicating his third and little finger, so swollen that he could not even bend them. "Ya just wait here. I'll be right back." As he went out of the door Nathan threw a quick glance over his shoulder and gave a little smile, knowing full well that the gunslinger was not going to go anywhere for some time yet.

Once the door had closed behind the healer Chris leaned forward, resting his hand on the sheet that covered the tracker's arm.

"Hey, Vin. I'm still here, pard," he whispered. "Told you I'd be here when you woke up." Despite the fact that Nathan had already told him that Vin would not wake for some hours all Chris wanted to see was the Texan's blue eyes open, and the familiar half-smile touch his lips. Then he would know he was going to be alright. Lying there so still and pale made it hard for Chris to believe that he would make a full recovery.

When Nathan returned James Owen was right behind him and, to Chris' dismay, so was Will Tanner. Neither man looked at the other, but the gunslinger pulled his chair a little closer to the table as the Texan stepped forward and leaned over Vin.

"Hey, boy. The doc says yer gonna be just fine." Tanner rested his hand on Vin's brow and now Chris did look up, eyes hard and unforgiving as he regarded the older man. There was a satisfied smirk on the Texan's face as his gaze met the gunslinger's and Chris tensed, resisting the urge to wipe it from his features. Nathan was well aware of the gunslinger's feelings and he dropped a hand on his shoulder in warning.

"Right, let's have that hand." Chris did not even flinch as the healer carefully straightened the broken fingers and bound them together. The gunslinger remained stoicly silent, but Nathan could see the sweat beading his forehead and feel the tension in his muscles as he suppressed the moan of pain that threatened to fall from his lips. However, when the healer cleaned the cuts and abrasions on his face and then treated them with the stinging iodine from James' cupboard, Chris did protest.

"Jeez, Nathan. Just leave it." He batted his friend's hand away, trying to avoid the gloating look in Tanner's eyes.

"Alright, gentleman." Once again James Owen asserted his authority. "I think that's enough for now. We need to let him rest."

"He's right, Chris. Ya gotta give him some time." Nathan made the comment as Chris remained stubbornly in his seat.

"If you want you can sit with him once we've moved him into my room." James made the offer to both men, but it was Tanner who acknowledged it first.

"Thanks, doc." As the Texan started to leave Owen caught him by the arm.

"Will, I'm sorry I was so hesitant ealier. I just needed to be sure."

"That's okay. At least ya finally saw sense."

Once the Texan had gone, James turned his attention to Chris. Reaching behind him he picked up the gunslinger's Colt and handed it back.

"Thanks for the loan," he said. "It did the job."

Chris stood up and took the weapon, dropping it back into its holster. He knew how much he owed this man and a simple thank you did not seem adequate enough, but that was all he could offer. He held out his hand to the young Englishman.

"I wanna thank you. If you hadn't operated Vin would've died."

"Don't thank me yet," Owen warned. "He's still got a long way to go."

"I know, but you've given him a chance. That's all he needs."

James shook the gunslinger's hand warmly. As he watched Chris leave he felt a certain amount of pride. It had taken the very strong persuasion of a small town healer to make him realise his potential, but he had succeeded against all odds. Now all he needed to ensure that everything was complete was for Vin to make a full recovery.

+ + + + + + +

"Why don't ya sit down an' drink ya coffee?"

James Owen looked up at Nathan and gave a sheepish grin as he realised he was about to check Vin for the fourth time in less than ten minutes.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to be sure that he's alright." The young Englishman dropped into the chair beside Nathan and picked up his almost cold coffee. Once Chris and the others had left the healer had taken it upon himself to make them a much needed pot of coffee, but James had barely touched his as he worried nervously about his patient.

"If anyone can make it its Vin," Nathan assured him. "He's tougher than he looks."

"I hope you're right." James did not sound entirely convinced. "I wouldn't want to face Will or Chris if anything went wrong. They seem to be rather volatile when they get upset."

"You got that right!" Nathan stated emphatically and he gave a slight smile.

"What started them fighting tonight?" the doctor wanted to know. When he had gone in search of Will Tanner just after the operation he had found him in the study with Ben, nursing a broken nose and other cuts and abrasions. It was not until he had seen Chris a few minutes later that he had put two and two together.

"Don't rightly know," the healer admitted. "But its been coming fer a while now. Chris never liked him from the start."

"Why?"

"I don't think Chris knows himself, but knowing he could be Vin's father has jus' made things worse."

James Owen nodded thoughtfully, a frown creasing his forehead. "I have to admit I'm a little wary of him myself." The young doctor paused as he recalled the way Will Tanner had virtually assaulted him when he was deliberating over the best treatment for Vin. Whilst he could understand the feelings of a worried parent, the man's violent reaction seemed to be extreme. "I'm sure he thought I was deliberately refusing to help Vin for some reason. It was as if he believed I didn't know my own job." James remembered the slight tinge of resentment when Tanner had declared his intention of bringing Nathan out to the ranch, but that had soon changed to relief once the healer had arrived and he had had the chance to talk to him. "Maybe he thought I was too young to know what I was doing."

"In a way I can understand that," Nathan admitted, without condoning Tanner's actions. "I've had t'live wit' fear and prjudice all my life. There are still some in Four Corners who resent a black man treating white folk."

Owen could feel a faint flush creeping into his cheeks; he remembered his own surprise when he had first encountered the healer in town, but it had not taken him long to see that Nathan was extremely skilled at what he did and that the colour of his skin was irrelevant.

"So how did you deal with it?" he wanted to know.

"I just did." Nathan shrugged modestly. "I got t'figgerin' that helping folks and saving lives was more important than what they thought about me. I ain't no doctor - I jus' do what I can."

"I'm very grateful that you do, my friend." James smiled, knowing that the older man's calm, steadying presence had sustained him through the delicate operation. There was a short silence and Nathan put his cup down before getting up to do exactly what he had just admonished James Owen for. The Englishman smiled again as the healer laid the back of his hand against Vin's forehead feeling for any increase in temperature. "You all seem to get on so well together. Have you known each other long?" The bond between the peacekeepers was obvious and the doctor was naturally curious.

"Waal, Chris an' Buck have known each for more'n twelve years but the rest of us little more than a year."

"Really? I thought Chris and Vin had known each other the longest." Owen was surprised and Nathan grinned at him.

"Looks that way, don't it? Seems like those two've got some kind o'link. They always seem to know when the other one's in trouble." He looked down at the unconscious tracker, recalling numerous occasions when that had proven correct. "Chris knew summat was wrong with Vin as soon as Will rode into town today."

"It's a bit like Lia and myself. We always knew when something was happening." James laughed softly and looked a little embarrassed. "I'm convinced I felt it when she gave birth to Edward and Emily." Nathan tried to hide his smile as he poured himself another cup of coffee, but then the doctor's next comment brought a frown to his face. "How do you think Will's relationship to Vin is going to affect them now?"

Nathan thought long and hard about James' question. In simple terms he knew that it would not be an easy path - but things were never simple and there was really only one answer he could give.

"I jus' don't know." The healer sighed. "Sometimes Chris can be a very unforgiving man. I just hope it don't tear 'em apart."

Buck had been dozing on and off in the easy chair in James Owen's study for a while, but at the moment he was wide awake. It was fast approaching midnight and the room was getting a little chillier and the ladies man leaned forward to place another log on the dwindling fire. As he straightened up he glanced across at Nathan sound asleep in the chair opposite, and he gave a faint smile. It had been a long day for all of them, and they were snatching sleep where and when they could.

Nathan and the doctor had stayed in the kitchen with Vin for a further hour after the operation to make certain that his breathing and pulse remained stable, and that there was no sign of any internal bleeding before he was moved into Owen's bedroom. That had been done some hours ago, and he still showed no indication of returning consciousness. Give them their due, Chris and Will Tanner had finally agreed on one thing when they had voiced their concerns about the tracker not waking up, and despite the reassurance from Nathan and Owen that this was perfectly normal both battered and exhausted men had refused to move from Vin's bedside.

Buck thought back to the few minutes just after Chris and Tanner had been chased out of the kitchen by James Owen. He had seen how shaken the gunslinger was but he had not fully understood why until he had seen Vin for himself about an hour later when he had helped to move him. The young tracker still looked desperately ill, but what really concerned the ladies man was how Chris would react if Vin accepted Will Tanner as his father. The gunslinger had disliked the man from the very first moment he met him, and now this apparent relationship to Vin seemed to have turned Chris' dislike into hatred. Buck had no idea how it would affect the close bond of friendship that the two men shared, but he had no doubt that there would be bitter consequences somewhere along the way.

Suddenly Buck heard the loud whinny of a horse from outside followed by several squeals of fright and he rose to his feet, crossing to look out of the window. All he could see was the dark outline of a walled garden, and he cursed softly. As he turned and made his way out of the door and up the hallway all hell broke loose outside.

The sound of gunshots startled Nathan out of his slumber and he scrambled to his feet, instantly awake. On the other side of the room he could see James wrestling with the blankets as he struggled off the couch, and then the bedroom door was flung wide open as Chris emerged, his Colt already in his hand.

"Nathan? What the hell's going on? Where's Buck?"

"I dunno," the healer replied as he reached for his gunbelt on the desk and drew the Remington from its holster.

"Shit!" The gunslinger swore loudly as he headed for the door, an equally agitated Tanner close behind him.

"Oh my God, Nathan! What's happening?" James turned a scared face to the healer as gunfire continued to crackle outside, and Nathan waved his weapon in the general direction of the windows.

"Get those shutters closed - " he snapped. " - and stay with Vin!" As Nathan ran out towards the front Ben Richardson came hurtling down the stairs, still trying to shrug a jacket on over his undershirt. "If ya got a gun ya'd best get it," the healer told him. "We got trouble!"

Buck fired several more rounds and then ducked down behind the porch wall again. He had heard more shots coming from the bunkhouse as Richardson's hands made their presence known, but he had seen little sign of the attackers apart from vague shadowy figures.

"Buck? How many?" Chris' voice came from behind the ladies man, and he flinched as a bullet ricocheted wildly off the wall.

"Five or six mebbe. I can't be sure." Buck slumped down, quickly reloading his Colt as the gunslinger appeared at his side. Beyond Chris, Tanner was shooting into the darkness, adding his firepower to that of the hands in the bunkhouse. Nathan and Richardson were the last to emerge from the house, the healer dragging the Englishman down behind the comparative safety of the low wall.

In the corral the Arab mares were milling around in a panic as furtive figures darted amongst them, and Ben became increasingly worried that they were going to be stolen or injured.

"I've got to get to the horses!" he told the healer. "I can't lose them now." As he started to get up a bullet whined off the top of the wall, and Richardson yelped in pain as flying splinters of stone peppered his cheek.

"Keep ya head down!" Nathan ordered, grabbing the back of the man's collar. "Ya'll get yerself killed!"

"But my horses... " the Englishman protested. "They're going to steal them!"

"I'll go." Much to Ben's surprise Tanner made the offer. "Pour it on, Nathan! Keep 'em busy."

Richardson propped his Winchester on the top of the wall and helped the healer lay down some covering fire as the Texan crouched down and made his way along the porch, moving behind Chris and Buck until he reached the end closest to the barn and bunkhouse. He paused for a few moments and then scrambled over and hunched down in the darkness, waiting for the opportunity to make a dash for the bunkhouse.

"Where the hell's he going?" Buck's question came as he saw the figure of Will Tanner race across the space between the main building and the bunkhouse.

"He's trying to get to the barn," Richardson supplied.

"All he's gonna do is get his damn head shot off!"

Chris glanced across the yard; he could just make out the dark shape of the Texan as he flattened himself against the wall of the bunkhouse, and he shook his head in amazement. It was obvious that the man was trying to reach the panic-stricken mares, and the gunslinger could not help thinking that it was exactly the kind of reckless thing that Vin would attempt. No - Chris pushed that notion aside, angry with himself for even thinking it. As far as he was concerned there was simply no comparison between the young tracker and the man claiming to be his father.

"Will!" Richardson's yell of alarm came as Tanner made his final move to get to the barn. The man had barely covered a few yards when he went down with a shary cry of pain.

"Dammit!" Buck swore heatedly. "He's been hit!"

"Shit!" Chris did not hesitate. In the split second before he broke cover the gunslinger knew that he had to put his personal feelings aside. The man had just made a brave attempt to save Richardson's precious live-stock, and he could not leave him lying there. "Cover me!" he yelled. Buck turned to look, but Chris was already gone.

"Aw hell! Chris!" The ladies man loosed off a fusilade of shots as his friend zig-zagged across the open space towards the bunkhouse.

James Owen would be the first to admit that he was scared. He could hear the sound of constant gunfire outside, and he had no way of knowing what was happening, or if anyone was hurt. After closing the heavy wooden shutters in the study, he had rushed into his bedroom and done the same at the window there. Trying to push aside his fears he focussed his attention towards his patient.

Although his colour had improved slightly there had been no other change in Vin since he had been moved from the kitchen, but James checked his pulse and breathing as a matter of course. Laying a hand on the tracker's forehead he was relieved to find it still quite cool to the touch, with thankfully no sign of post-operative fever. Finally he started to pull the blanket down, but he stopped as he noticed the small beaded pouch hanging around the Texan's neck. James frowned in curiosity as he studied the intricate, very obviously Native design, and he wondered who had given it to Vin and when. He was inclined to think that it had been Will Tanner; Owen could not imagine Chris being that superstitious, but wherever it had come from he was not going to remove it. He continued to fold the blanket right down and examined the dressing covering the incision, just to make certain that there had been no leakage. As he pulled the blanket back up to his patient's chin, he paused as a faint moan escaped the tracker's lips.

"Vin?" He placed his hand gently on one shoulder as the Texan moved his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. For a moment James wondered whether he was about to wake up but, much as he would have welcomed any sign of returning consciousness the timing was wrong. Knowing that Vin would be confused and disorientated and more than likely nauseous, Owen would have prefered to have Nathan with him when it happened. However, as he watched and waited a little longer Vin settled back into the drugged sleep once more even the frown disappearing from his forehead, and the young Englishman breathed a sigh of relief. James could tell from the change in his breathing that it would not be very long before Vin started to come to, possibly only a few hours in fact. Hopefully the terrifying attack outside would be over by then.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, he suddenly realised that the sound of gunfire had stopped, and he shivered as an eerie silence settled over the ranch.

Dropping his Colt back into its holster, Chris went down on his knees and elbows and started to crawl towards the fallen Texan. Several bullets kicked up dirt in front of his face as he moved forward and he felt another tug at his shirt sleeve, ripping a gaping hole in the material as it passed through without touching flesh. As he tensed, fully expecting to feel the numbing impact of a bullet hitting him, Chris began to question his sanity. What the fuck was he doing risking his life to save a man he despised? Just as Chris reached him Will glanced up, and the look on his face was incredulous.

"Larabee? What ya doin'?" Tanner had heard somebody trying to reach him, but the gunslinger was the last person he expected to see.

"Where you hit?" Chris ignored the question.

"My damn leg!" the Texan hissed as he tried to push himself forward. As Chris reached out to help drag the man back he gasped as he jarred his left hand, having forgotten about his broken fingers.

"Keep moving!" the gunslinger snapped, taking the Texan's weight with his right hand. As they reached the comparitive safety of the bunkhouse, Chris realised that most of the shooting had stopped. Scrambling to his feet, the gunslinger took out his gun once more and looked across at the corral. He saw several dark shapes starting to move away and then he heard the heavy bark of a rifle and one of the figures staggered and fell. The other was running before Chris could even bring his Colt into line.

"Chris? Y'alright?" Buck called out as he cautiously stood up. He could hear the pounding of hooves as the attackers fled the scene, and now he wanted to make sure his friend was okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine." The gunslinger walked back towards the house, contemplating the hole in his left sleeve.

"What about - ?" Buck stopped, unsure what to call the man in front of Chris.

"Reckon he'll need some attention."

Nathan overheard the gunslinger's casual remark and hurried across to the wounded Texan as Ben Richardson stepped up to Chris, his face white and strained.

"You alright, Ben?" There was concern in the gunslinger's voice as he asked the question. The Richardson family were new to America and unused to this kind of violence. That much was evident from the expression on the Englishman's face as he nodded.

"Why are they doing this to me?" Richardson sounded puzzled. "All I want is a chance to raise horses."

"I dunno, but I aim to find out," Chris promised.

"Do you think they'll be back tonight?"

"I doubt it, but we'll need to take a look around, make sure they've gone."

Richardson's two ranch-hands emerged from the bunkhouse. Jack Chambers still had his broken arm in a sling but it had not stopped him joining in the fight, and he was looking grim as he stopped in front of his boss.

"Jack, can you and Tom get the mares into the barn - just in case."

"Sure thing, Mr Richardson. Anything else?"

"You could saddle up our horses for us." It was Chris who replied, and with a nod from Ben the two men hurried away.

"I'll go saddle mine," the ladies man offered, but Chris shook his head. He was looking past Buck's shoulder to where Nathan was leading the limping Texan back to the porch.

"I'd rather you stayed here with Vin." Chris did not need to explain the reason why. He was torn by his sense of duty as a peacekeeper and the promise he had made to the tracker. He needed to be here when Vin woke up but the safety of the entire household was at stake, and he had to deal with that first.

As the healer and the injured Tanner drew level with him Ben Richardson put his hand out and stopped Nathan, but his gaze was on his foreman.

"How bad is it, Will?"

"It coulda bin a whole heap worse." The Texan looked over at Chris and gave him a nod. "Thanks, Larabee." His tone was slightly grudging, and Chris' eyes were hard as he replied.

"I didn't do it for you." It was true. The gunslinger had just realised why he had done it. If there was even the remotest possibility that this man was related to Vin in some way, then Chris did not want to have his death on his conscience.

"Come on, Will, let's get ya seen to." Nathan started to move away again, but then paused. "Chris, if ya thinkin' about going after them fellers be careful. Me 'n James've already got our hands full."

The gunslinger grinned and turned away as the healer took Tanner into the house, only to find Buck watching him intently.

"What's up with you?" he demanded, and the ladies man gave a sigh.

"Y'know, Chris, sometimes I just don't understand you at all."

"What d'you mean?"

"Waal, a few hours ago you'd have happily throttled that man, and now you nearly got your arse shot off saving his life!"

Chris shrugged. "The man was down. Someone had to do it."

Buck shook his head in amazement. Whether he had known him twelve years or twenty years, Chris could still surprise him. Before he could say anything else the other ranch-hand, Tom Steen, approached leading three horses.

"The mares are safely in the barn, Mr Richardson," he said, holding out the reins of Ben's buckskin. "D'you mind if I tag along with you? I'd like a chance to run those yahoos to ground."

"An extra gun's always handy," the gunslinger acknowledged as Richardson looked to him for guidance. Knowing his limitations the Englishman was more than happy to let Chris take charge. Buck accompanied them as the other three led their horses towards the main gate, and it was he who spotted the body first.

"Looks like we got one of 'em," he said, bending down and turning the body over. The chest was a bloody ruin, and Buck whistled appreciativley. "I'd say you're a pretty fair shot with that rifle, Ben"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, no handgun did that, my friend. Not at this distance."

"Oh my God!" Ben turned pale as he realised what Buck was saying. "You mean I killed him?"

"You were defending your home, Ben." Chris dropped a hand on his shoulder, feeling him shaking with reaction. "You did what you had to do. Suppose your wife and children had been here?"

Ben shuddered, feeling physically sick at the concept of taking the life of another human being. With everything that had been happening he had not given that a thought, and he was grateful for the spark of foresight that had made him send Amelia and the others into town the day before yesterday.

"But... I've never killed anybody before."

Buck stood up and cocked his head on one side as he regarded Richardson. "Welcome to the West, Ben," he said softly.

"Alright. Enough talk." Chris swung up onto his black and gathered up the reins. "We won't find anything like this." That was only part of the reason; the gunslinger thought it most likely that the attackers were long gone already, but the sooner they went the sooner they would be back, and that was his main aim. He indicated the body. "Buck - can you take care of that?"

"No problem, Chris. Watch yourselves," he warned as Richardson and Steen mounted their horses and followed Chris Larabee into the darkness.

Satisfied that Vin was not about to stir again, James Owen left the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him, crossing over to his desk and opening the top drawer. His hand was shaking as he reached for the Starr revolver; he was loath to touch the gun even though Ben had insisted he keep it there, but the silence outside was worrying him and he had no choice.

Cautiously pushing open the study door he peered down the hallway. Even the house itself was quiet as he crept along the passage, pausing as a board creaked underfoot. He was almost at the front door when a voice startled him.

"Doctor Owen? Is it all over?"

James turned, his heart thumping, and his shoulders slumped in relief when he saw Charles Roberts standing halfway down the stairs. The butler had a thick, striped dressing gown on over his nightshirt - and a double-barrelled shotgun in his hands.

"I was just going to check. Is everybody alright?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs Roberts is upstairs with the two girls."

"Good. You stay here while I - " Owen never finished the sentence. The front door creaked on its hinges as it swung slowly open and James whirled, gripping the gun in both hands as he held it at arms length.

"Whoa, James, steady on. It's only us." Nathan stood in the doorway supporting the wounded Will Tanner and James let the gun drop, holding it loosely at his side.

"Nathan! Thank God! I thought it might have been somebody else!"

"Well ya look like ya were ready for 'em," the healer said, nodding towards the gun and James gave a nervous laugh as he looked down at the Starr in his hand.

"Ready? It's not even loaded."

Nathan stared at him appalled but now was not the time for recriminations about an empty gun.

"Can ya gimme a hand? Will's been shot."

"Gladly. Let's get him into the study." As he went round to the other side of the Texan he glanced anxiously at Nathan. "What about everybody else? Is Ben okay?"

"Yeah. I think they were gonna check around and see that everything's alright."

"Is there anything else I can do, sir?" Roberts was at the bottom of the stairs now, the shotgun broken open and hanging in the crook of his arm.

"Yes there is. We need some hot water in my study, and I think a pot of coffee would be very welcome."

"Very good, sir. I'll be as quick as I can."

As Nathan and James helped Tanner along the hall and into the study, the Texan spoke for the first time.

"How's m'boy doin', Doc?"

"He's still sleeping, but he's comfortable." James released Tanner's arm as Nathan lowered him onto the couch, swinging his legs up so that Owen could get a better look at the wound. The Englishman carefully cut away the pants leg, staunching the blood with a clean cloth, only briefly glancing up as Roberts entered and put a bowl of hot water on the floor beside him.

"You were lucky, Will. It doesn't look too bad." James carefully washed the blood away, seeing the shallow furrow that scored the outside of the Texan's left thigh. It was messy and painful, but not that serious.

"Well, it hurts summat fierce," Tanner said through gritted teeth.

"I should imagine it does, but I don't think it requires any stitches. What do you say, Nathan?" The young Englishman defered to a man whose experience of gunshot wounds far outweighed his own.

"Reckon yer right," the healer agreed. "Jus' keep it clean and rested for a few days. Ya'll be fine."

As James finished cleaning and bandaging the wound Roberts returned again with a heavy tray which he placed on the desk. Nathan glanced at the coffee pot and the bottle beside it, and he gave the butler a wide grin.

"I took the liberty of fetching the brandy, sir. I thought you could use some."

"Roberts, you're a godsend!" As the butler poured the coffee James opened the bottle and tipped a generous into each cup. "Pour one for yourself. Join us."

"Well, if you're sure... ?"

"It's been an eventful evening." That was an understatement, and James almost laughed aloud as he said it. Handing a cup of the heavily laced coffee to Tanner, Owen took a sip of his own, feeling it warming him as it went down. The strong liquor finally steadied his shaken nerves, but he would not be able to relax completely until Vin was fully awake and his brother-in-law was back safely.

Will Tanner winced as he flexed his injured leg and leaned back in the chair, his expression thoughtful as he regarded the still form of the young tracker. About an hour had elapsed since the end of the attack, and Ben Richardson and Chris Larabee had still not returned from their scouting trip. Not that he was unduly worried; he knew both men were capable of taking care of themselves and he was grateful for the opportunity to have this time alone with Vin. Nathan had been sitting in the corner reading one of James' books for a while, but now the healer had left on some errand or other, leaving Will alone with his thoughts.

He was still having trouble adjusting to the idea that Larabee had actually risked his life to save him, all too aware that he could just as easily have left him there to die. 'I didn't do it for you,' is what the gunslinger had said, and Tanner was trying to work out what he meant. Was Larabee beginning to accept that he was telling the truth? Was he starting to believe that the Texan was who he said he was? Will hoped so for Vin's sake. He did not want to have the gunslinger as an enemy.

He sighed and focussed his attention on Vin once more. He was desperate for him to wake up now, eager for the chance to finally say all the things he wanted to. Reaching out the Texan gently stroked the younger man's hair, a smile on his face. The colour and the waviness reminded him of Elizabeth and Vin's hesitant half-smile and his shyness was hers as well. He knew the tracker's eyes were as blue as his own and he could not help wondering what other family traits they shared. It was hard just to look at him after more than twenty years, and yet be unable to voice his true feelings. Tanner had tried the night Vin became ill and he was dismayed that the young Texan had become so angry; he should have expected that but it meant he had a long way to go before he could gain his trust.

Suddenly Tanner heard a faint moan and he was jolted back to the present as Vin stirred, turning his head against the pillow. His mouth twitched, and he groaned again as his eyelids flickered as he started to surface from his chloroform-induced slumber.

"Vin?" Tanner leaned forward and rested his hand lightly on his chest, under no illusions that the younger man was on the verge of coming to. The tracker murmured something low and unintelligable, his eyes half open now as he moved his head again. "Easy, Vin."

"Chris?" Vin's voice was raspy as he tried to focus on the shape beside him, but his vision was too blurry and he could only make out a vague outline.

"Sorry, son. He's not here." Tanner felt a faint spark of anger at the young man's question. He had been correct in his first assumption that Chris Larabee would be the main stumbling block to his relationship with Vin. "He's already gone back to town." Will knew it was a spiteful comment to make to someone in the tracker's condition, but it was a purely selfish reaction. He was family, and he wanted Vin to turn to him for reassurance during his illness and recuperation and not the gunslinger.

Vin may not have been very awake or aware but Tanner's words registered in his mind, and he could not hide the hurt and disappointment on his face. With a soft sigh he wearily closed his eyes and turned his head away as he drifted back into an exhausted sleep. Tanner watched him for a moment and then sat back in his seat, running his hand through his hair. The days ahead were not going to be easy.

James took another swallow of his coffee as he shifted uncomfortably on the second stair as he waited in the hallway. It seemed to have been a long time since Buck had come back into the house and told him exactly what Chris and Ben were doing, but he did not think it would have taken them this long. Even the ladies man had seemed a bit concerned, wandering out onto the porch several times to look for any sign of their return.

Nathan had told him that there were at least half a dozen men attacking the property, their intention quite malicious. He could not understand why anyone would want to ruin his brother-in-law's ambition, but it appeared that this was the case. Ben was an amiable man with no apparent enemies, but someone was desperate to see him fail.

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the boards outside and he leapt to his feet, almost spilling the remains of his coffee on the floor as the front door opened.

"Ben! Thank God!" Owen stepped forward and placed his cup on the hall table, gripping his brother-in-law's arm anxiously. "I was beginning to get worried!"

"We found another body," Chris said, explaining the delay as Buck emerged from the study.

"Another one? Whereabouts?" The ladies man frowned. As far as he knew only one attacker had died during the attack.

"About half a mile down the trail. Looks like he was killed by one of his own, probably to stop him talking." The gunslinger heard the sharp intake of breath from the young doctor as Chris described the ruthlessness of the attackers.

"Damn!" Buck swore. "I thought I'd hit one."

Both men looked dirty and bone-tired, and for the first time James noticed the streaks of dried blood down Richardson's right cheek.

"Ben, you're hurt!" he exclaimed, frowning in concern as he grasped the older man's chin and turned his face to the light.

"Don't fuss, James. It's just a scratch." Owen pursed his lips at Ben's off-hand attitude as Richardson pushed his hand away.

"At least let me clean it," he stated. "Roberts has left some fresh coffee in the study." As they started to move away Chris put his hand on James' arm, stopping the Englishman.

"How's Vin?" he asked. "Is he awake yet?"

"No, but I don't think it'll be too long."

Chris nodded, feeling a huge sense of relief. His promise to Vin still held - he would be there when the tracker awoke. As they went back into James' room Buck quickly poured two cups of coffee and handed them to Chris and Ben. Owen did his best to clean the blood from his brother-in-law's face whilst Chris wandered over towards the half-open bedroom door. Setting his cup down on the desk, he reached for the handle but then paused as he heard a familiar voice speak his name softly. A smile curved the corners of his mouth as he realised Vin must be awake, but the delight was shortlived.

"Sorry, son. He's not here."

Chris tensed when he heard the Texan speak. He had almost forgotten about Tanner in the heat of the moment, but he should have realised the man would be back with Vin. He was about to push the door open when a final comment made him freeze in his tracks.

"He's already gone back to town."

Chris became aware that his hand was hurting where he was gripping the door handle so tight, and his body trembled with rage. His first instinct was to storm into the room and beat the hell out of the man for lying to Vin, but then sanity prevailed. Chris heard no reply from the tracker and he was not really sure if he was actually awake, but he knew that it might prove dangerous to Vin's health if he confronted the older Texan now. It took a supreme effort of self-control to simply turn around and walk away.

Buck had seen the gunslinger heading towards the bedroom and he wondered whether he should warn him that Will Tanner was already in there, but he thought that Chris might already have guessed that. He watched as the man put his cup down and then paused by the half-open door. The ladies man expected to see him go in; instead he stiffened, his posture that of someone who was listening intently to a conversation. The next thing he knew Chris had turned on his heel his face like thunder as he stalked out, almost knocking Nathan aside as the healer came back into the room..

"Chris? Where you going? Chris?" Buck got no reply, and Nathan followed the ladies man back out into the hallway.

"Buck? What's goin' on?"

Both men jumped as Chris slammed the front door behind him with enough force to rattle the windows.

"I don't know," Buck stated truthfully. "But I sure as hell ain't gonna ask him!"

Chris stood at the edge of the porch, breathing in deep lungfuls of the crisp night air. His hands were clenched tightly at his side as he tried to control the fury that threatened to overwhelm him, and it was only the pain of his broken fingers that cleared his head sufficiently for him to think straight again. If his horse had still been outside saddled and ready, he would have seriously considered mounting up and riding out.

No matter how much he wanted to stay and regardless of the promise he had made to Vin, the gunslinger knew he had to put some distance between himself and the man claiming to be the tracker's father. However, that would have to wait until first light; it really would be foolish to ride out in the middle of the night. One thing was certain - he could not bear the thought of being under the same roof as Will Grainger, not even for Vin's sake. His bedroll was in the barn along with his saddle, and that was where he would spend the remainder of the night.

Nobody else in the study could give Nathan any clue as to why Chris had stormed out of the house. Buck mentioned that he appeared to be going into the bedroom when something had suddenly stopped him, but he had no idea what that was.

Unable to solve the mystery the healer went through to the small bedroom, wondering whether Will could enlighten him. However, before he could ask the Texan turned a smiling face towards him.

"Nathan - he woke up!" Tanner sounded delighted and the healer glanced down at the tracker, but he still appeared to be sleeping.

"He did?"

"Yeah, jus' fer a few minutes, but that's a good sign, ain't it?"

Nathan did not answer as he reached under the blanket and wrapped his fingers around the tracker's slack wrist, feeling his pulse. Satisfied by the steady beat he picked up his stethoscope and pulled the blanket down to check his breathing.

"What the hell's that?" Tanner leaned forward and looked curiously at the beaded pouch around Vin's neck.

"It's a roaroke - y'know, an Indian medicine pouch?" Nathan was not surprised to see it there. He knew how much faith Vin had in the talisman, and he could guess who had passed it on to him. "Reckon Chris had summat t'do wit' that."

"M'boy don't need none of this superstitious crap!" Tanner could not hide his anger as he reached over and drew the rawhide thong from around Vin's neck. As he made to toss it aside Nathan's hand closed about his wrist.

"Ya might think it's nonsense, but it's important to Vin." He regarded the Texan intently, and Tanner made no move to stop him as he took the pouch and tucked it into his pocket.

"He don't need nothin' from Chris Larabee! He's got me now - and we're family!"

Nathan remained silent; he was not prepared to argue the point but he could foresee problems in the future. Tanner might very well be family, but he would soon find out that blood was not necessarily a stronger tie than friendship.

Part Four

Chris Larabee had pushed his black hard, but he had made good time getting back to town. Leaving his mount at the Livery for Tiny to take care of he headed towards the jailhouse, hoping it would be deserted. At the moment he was in no mood for company. However, that hope was quickly dashed as he opened the door.

JD was standing by the stove and he turned to face the gunslinger as he entered, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

"Chris! What the hell happened to you? What you doing back so soon? Is Vin alright?" The questions came tumbling out without any pause for breath as the young peacekeeper stared at Chris' battered face. The bruises and abrasions were really starting to show now, across his cheek and down the side of his jaw and he looked completely worn out. He was trail-dirty and unshaven, and he moved stiffly as he walked towards the stove and poured himself some coffee. JD saw the bandage wrapped around his left hand, but did not remark on it.

The gunslinger took a sip of his drink and then went across to the desk, dropping wearily into the chair with a pained grunt. Tossing his hat to one side he leaned back and regarded the worried young man over the top of his cup. Chris knew he should say something to JD but all he really wanted was to be left alone. He had spent an uncomfortable night in Ben Richardson's barn, unable to sleep because of his anger and worry. There was also a measure of guilt that had kept him restless and awake, the guilt of a promise that he had been unable to keep to Vin Tanner.

'Told you I'd be here when you woke up'.

Chris did not think that anything could have kept him from the tracker's side until he regained consciousness, but he was wrong. He did not even know whether Vin was awake when he had slipped away at first light.

"They operated. Nathan's gonna stay with him for a few days."

JD waited for Chris to elaborate further, but it soon became apparent that the gunslinger had said all he was going to say on the matter. The young peacekeeper realised that Chris had not answered any of his questions properly. All he had learnt from that brief statement was that Vin was still alive, but the gunslinger's battered appearance was still a mystery and JD had no intention of prying into it.

"Well... er... I guess... I reckon I'll go tell Josiah you're back. Ezra too, if he's up and about."

"Good idea, kid." It was almost a dismisal from the older man and JD picked up his hat, but even before he was out of the door Chris was pulling open drawers and rummaging through them.

For some time now Vin Tanner had been drifting, cocooned in the comfortable embrace of nothingness, but now his awakening senses were tugging at him, drawing him back up to the fine line between dreaming and the real world.

Unfortunately with returning consciousness came pain and he tensed, aware that his body still hurt. The sharp pain in his side had dwindled to a throbbing ache now, but he was afraid to move for fear of it returning with the same intensity as before. To be honest he was not even sure that he could move; his limbs did not feel as though they belonged to him and he felt vaguely detached. However, he could hear the blood pounding in his temples, the persistant headache spreading across his brow as he swallowed convulsively against the nausea, and he had the overwhelming urge to be sick.

A faint groan came to his ears but it took him a few moments to realise that it had come from his own lips, and he drew a quick, shallow breath as a shadow seemed to pass across his closed eyelids. Then a hand touched his shoulder and he though he knew who it was.

Chris.

He was not sure whether he had spoken the name out loud or not, but it made him feel safe and protected.

"Vin? Ya awake?"

He recognised the voice as Nathan's and he could not help feeling a slight twinge of disappointment, but he took a deep shuddering breath and slowly forced his eyes open. Blinking several times to clear the blurriness he gazed up at the concerned face, squinting as he concentrated on bringing it into focus.

"Waal, I thought yer were gonna sleep 'til Christmas!" There was immense relief in the healer's voice as he smiled down at Vin. "How're ya feelin'?"

The tracker frowned and thought for a moment but there was really only one answer he could give.

"Sick," he replied, licking at dry lips and swallowing hard. His throat was extremely sore, as though it had been scoured by wind-driven sand, and the word was little more than a croak as he felt a cold sweat break out on his skin.

"Figgered ya might," Nathan said. "Let's get ya sat up."

Vin gasped, his hand instinctively flying to his right side to press firmly against the wound as the healer slipped an arm under his shoulders and eased him up. He barely had time to draw a breath before a basin was thrust in front of him and he vomited, feeling utterly miserable.

Pain knifed through him as he started coughing, bringing up the last of the sticky bile as he hunched over to his right. Every rasping breath seemed to tear at his insides, and the pounding in his head throbbed in time with the agony in his side.

"Easy Vin." Nathan tightened his grip around the Texan, holding him as the dry heaves shook his trembling body, and he could hear the faint whimpers of pain that tumbled from the tracker's mouth. Then James was there, placing a bowl on the bedside table before moving around to Vin's other side and helping Nathan to support him.

"How long has he been awake?" the Englishman asked, rubbing gently at Vin's back as the coughing eased.

"Just a few minutes." Nathan watched as James went to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out several more pillows, arranging them behind the tracker.

Vin felt completely helpless as he screwed his eyes shut in pain, and he found it hard to catch his breath as he tried to drag air into his heaving lungs. Gentle hands laid him carefully back on the pile of pillows and a damp cloth dabbed at his mouth and forehead, cool against his flushed skin, but he still felt like hell. Nathan could feel the tracker shivering as he lifted the edge of the blanket and checked the dressing for any sign of fresh blood. He wanted to be certain that Vin had not torn any of the stitches open when he had thrown up.

"See if you can get him to take some water," James said, wringing out the cloth again and wiping the sweat from the Texan's brow. "It's the chloroform that's making him cough. I've seen it before, but he'll feel better once it's cleared out of his system."

"Come on, Vin. See if ya can drink some o'this." Nathan poured some water into a glass and offered it to the tracker and the Texan opened one eye suspiciously, but his friend persisted. "It's jus' water. Ya need to drink summat." The healer raised Vin's head and put the glass to his lips, holding it there until he had taken a few sips. The tracker lay back exhausted but the lines of pain were still etched about his mouth and eyes, and Nathan rested a hand lightly on his brow. "Feel better?"

"Some." Vin was beginning to realise that if he remained still the pain receded to a level that he could cope with, and the few mouthfuls of water had eased his sore throat somewhat. "D'ya need anything fer the pain?" Nathan asked the question knowing that the tracker was going to be in some discomfort for a few days yet, but Vin shook his head. He would rather deal with this on his own terms and keep a clear head than chance anything clouding his thoughts again. However, James Owen thought differently.

"I think it would be best if I gave you a little more morphine, otherwise you won't get any rest." Vin turned his head and looked at the doctor, realising that he was probably right. Any slight movement brought the pain back sharply.

"Okay," he whispered and closed his eyes once more.

As James left to prepare it, Nathan leaned forward and studied his friend for a moment. Both he and James had been worried by the young Texan's lengthy period of unconsciousness; it had been more than fourteen hours since the start of the operation, and apart from a brief moment of drowsy awareness in the early hours of the morning Vin had remained stubbornly asleep. Most of their concern was due to the extra dose of chloroform they had had to administer during the operation, and they had been prepared for any or all of the possible side effects.

"Vin?" Nathan touched his arm lightly. "D'ya know where y'are? Can ya remember what happened?"

Where was he? Vin frowned; he was still confused and disorientated although he remembered being out on the trail, and the terrible pain that seemed to drive everything else from his mind, but his last clear recollection was a pair of hazel eyes, unswerving and steady, that held his gaze as he slipped into a deep dreamless sleep that took away the agony. That sudden image of the gunslinger made him wonder why his friend was not there, and he turned to look at Nathan.

"Where's Chris?"

Nathan had been expecting this question, but it did not make the answer any easier. He had spoken to Buck a short time ago and discovered that the gunslinger had already left - presumably going back to Four Corners - but no-one knew what had caused his premature departure.

"Sorry, Vin. He had t'go back to town." The healer hated telling him that but there was no point lying to him, and he could see the despondancy in the Texan's eyes as he turned his head away.

'He's already gone back to town'.

Vin thought that it had been a dream, but he could vaguely recall someone telling him that before. He frowned, trying to remember who it was and then he suddenly went cold and shivered, stifling a soft gasp as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

"Vin? Y'okay?" Nathan saw the colour drain from his face and he reached for the basin once more. "Ya feel sick again?"

"Grainger." The realisation of what the older Texan had revealed suddenly came flooding back, and Vin could scarcely believe what he had been told. He glanced back at Nathan, everything else forgotten as he pleaded with him for some kind of answer. "He said he was my pa." It was just a whisper, and the healer could see the torment in the tracker's eyes.

"That's what he said. D'ya believe him?" Nathan knew Chris did not give any credence to Grainger's claim, but it was more important to know what Vin believed.

"I don't know." His reply was barely audible but it was the truth. He needed more time to consider and adjust to the idea before he could commit himself, but at the moment all he could concentrate on was the incessant throbbing in his side.

"Don't ya worry none about that." Nathan reached out and squeezed his wrist. "There'll be plenty o'time t'think on that later." The healer looked up as James returned, a smaal dish in his hand, and he sat down on the edge of the bed and grasped Vin's left arm as he took the syringe from the container.

"This should make you feel more comfortable," the Englishman stated as he administered the measured dose.

The tracker winced as the needle went in and he closed his eyes, totally exhausted even by this brief moment of waking. He could feel the pain already starting to diminish, but he knew rest was not going to come easy to him. Vin had dozens of questions whirling around in his brain, but the one person he could have talked to was not there. As he slipped into an uneay slumber he frowned in bewilderment, wondering why Chris had left without a word.

+ + + + + + +

It was a little after two when Buck arrived back in town driving Ben's wagon, his nervous grey tied to the rear. He had volunteered to take the bodies of the two attackers killed the previous night into Four Corners for burial, but he was also worried about Chris. The gunslinger's fight with Will Grainger - or rather Will Tanner if the man's claim was to be believed - had been quite intense and brutal, and both men would be feeling the effects of it for some time to come. However, the ladies man was more concerned about his state of mind. Tanner's disclosure of his identity had been a shock to all of them, but Chris had taken it the hardest. He was already frantic with worry over Vin, and to be told that a man he disliked intensely was now purporting to be the father of that same person was almost impossible to comprehend.

Buck had no idea why Chris had stormed out of the house the previous evening and he had been alarmed to discover him gone in the morning. It had taken Nathan's calm common sense to point out that the gunslinger had probably returned to town, unable to stay where Will Tanner was.

Once he had left the bodies with the undertaker he had taken the buckboard and his own mount down to the Livery, and was relieved to find Chris' black gelding in its usual stall. At least he knew the gunslinger was back. At this time of day he was most likely to be in the saloon, so Buck headed in that direction.

As he entered the fairly quiet bar he looked around anxiously. There were a few solitary drinkers at the counter, but at a table in the far corner JD, Ezra, and Josiah appeared to be holding a council of war. Buck signalled to the barkeep for a beer and then wandered across to join his fellow peacekeepers.

"Boys," he said as he dropped into a chair, and three faces turned to look at him in relief.

"Mr Wilmington, your arrival is most fortuitous." Ezra spoke for all of them. They had trying to decide which of them would have the dubious honour of returning to the jailhouse to find out exactly what Chris Larabee was doing, but now it looked as though that choice had been made for them.

"It is? Why?" Buck eyed the three men suspiciously.

"You gotta find out what Chris is up to! He's been holed up in the jailhouse ever since he got back and he's making one hell of a mess!" JD babbled rapidly.

"What d'you mean, kid?"

"He appears to be on some kind of mission," Josiah said solemnly. When JD had told him that the gunslinger was back in town they had both ventured over to the jail, but on peering through the window Josiah had decided it would be best to leave him undisturbed. "He's obviously looking for something."

"Waal, I'll go over and talk to him, but first there's something you boys should know." Buck's face was serious as he spoke and JD immediately jumped to conclusions.

"My God! Is Vin alright?" Ezra and Josiah leaned forward, worry on their faces as they waited for Buck's answer.

"He will be, but he's gonna be laid up for a few weeks."

"So pray tell us, Mr Wilmington, what other peice of breathtaking news are you about to impart to us?" Ezra could afford to be flippant now that Buck had at least eased their fears over Vin's condition. The ladies man took a long swallow of his drink as he considered how best to tell them.

"You remember that fella Grainger who works for the Richardson's?" he said at length.

"Yeah. What about him?" JD picked up his own glass and took a large mouthful.

"Waal, seems his name ain't Grainger after all."

Ezra pulled an exasperated face. "The suspense is killing me. Who is he then?"

"His name's Tanner. He's Vin's father."

There was a loud choking cough from JD and the young peacekeeper spat out most of his beer - straight in Ezra's direction! The gambler scrambled back in his seat but he was too late as the alcohol liberally sprayed the front of his jacket. Josiah pounded JD on the back as the young man continued to cough and gasp while Ezra stared down in horror at his ruined apparel.

"Are y'alright, son?" the ex-preacher asked as JD wiped hiped his streaming eyes.

"Jeez, Buck, you could've warned us!" he wheezed, and the gambler nodded as he dabbed at the damp stain down the front of him with a handkerchief.

"I agree," the Southerner stated. "A word to the wise would have been most appreciated. I would certainly have removed myself from the line of fire!"

"So Grainger is Vin's father," Josiah mused softly. "Does Vin know?" he asked.

"According to Nathan he does." Buck had had a long talk with Nathan before he left. He had wanted to be certain that the tracker was starting to recover from the effects of the operation and that there had been no complications. The healer had told him that Vin remembered Grainger's claim but that he was not sure yet whether he believed him. That would take proof and time.

"But I thought Vin's father was long dead?" JD said in confusion.

"Apparently not." There was a bitterness in Ezra's words that made the others look at him in surprise. Perhaps of all of them only the gambler knew how Vin must be feeling. His own childhood had been less than happy; he had never know his real father just a succession of step-fathers, and most of them from a distance. He could imagine how confused and angry he would be if his own father suddenly came back into his life. There was also another factor to consider, one which no-one else had mentioned yet. "How did Mr Larabee take this startling revelation?"

"Badly." That was an understatement but Buck did not want to go into too many details until he had had a chance to talk to the gunslinger again. "You know Chris. He never trusted the man from the start."

"Is that who Chris's been fighting with?" JD had been wanting to know that all day, but there was no way he was going to ask the gunslinger.

"Oh yeah! He'd've probably killed him too if I hadn't got there when I did." Buck was in no doubt about that and he was relieved that Chris had not been wearing his gun.

"Suspicion is a dangerous weapon," Josiah intoned grimly.

"Why doesn't Chris believe him?" JD wanted to know.

"I don't know, son, but I think our friends will need all our support in the days ahead." The ex-preacher could foresee the many problems that would arise between Chris and Vin as they struggled to come to terms with Will Tanner's relationship to the tracker. It was not going to be easy.

"Waal, I'd best go see what he's up to." Buck drained the last of his beer and banged the glass down on the table as he rose reluctantly to his feet. "Wish me luck boys!"

Buck was not relishing the prospect of confronting Chris, but as he walked down the main street towards the jailhouse he knew that there were questions that needed answering. Uppermost in his mind was the mystery of why Chris Larabee had left the Richardsons so abruptly and without a word to anybody. He had not even waited until Vin regained consciousness after the operation, and that amazed Buck most of all. As he drew level with the office the ladies man hesitated. He knew how dangerous his friend could be when he was angry and upset but someone had to try and talk to him.

'Why does it always have to be me?' Buck thought as he squared his shoulders and pushed the door open, stopping just inside.

"What the hell y'doing?" Buck glanced around at the devastation in the room. It looked as though a tornado had ripped through the building and left nothing undisturbed. Every draw of the filing cabinet had been left open and papers were strewn across the desk and the floor. The two cutting books containing the wanted posters were open on the desk and Chris was poring over one of them, a glass in his right hand and a half empty bottle of whiskey on the side.

"Go away, Buck," he growled without looking up. The ladies man pulled a wry face and closed the door. Finally Chris raised his head and stared at his silent friend. "You're still here."

"Yep, and I ain't going nowhere until you tell me what you're looking for," Buck said quietly, trying to hide his concern. The gunslinger looked dreadful; his hair was uncombed and he was in desperate need of a shave, and the bruises on his face stood out in all their multi-hued glory now. The bandage round his broken fingers was black with ink from the various papers and his eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue as he glared at the ladies man.

Stepping over to the desk Buck picked up the first loose sheet he could find and looked at it for a moment before Chris snatched it away from him.

"You're trying t'find something on Tanner!" Buck could not believe the lengths Chris was going to to try and prove his point.

"His name ain't Tanner!" the gunslinger snapped irritably, pouring himself another drink.

By now Buck's anxiety for Chris was giving way to exasperation and he rested his hands on the top of the desk as he leaned forward.

"Dammit Chris. How long y'gonna keep this up?"

"Until I can convince Vin that this man's a no-good sonofabitch!" Chris heard the sharp huff of breath from the ladies man as he straightened up and he glanced up at him, hazel eyes hard.

"Now what the hell's wrong?"

"You haven't even asked how Vin is," Buck pointed out softly. "Hell, you even left before he'd come to!"

"I had my reasons."

"What reasons?" Buck did not have to think about how close the two men were and nothing should have been able to drive the gunslinger away. "Why'd you run out on him, Chris?" Buck saw the other man's fingers tighten around the glass and knew he had pushed his luck just about as far as it would go.

"Just get the hell outta here, Buck." Chris' voice was low, throbbing with anger as his friend's comment reminded him of his broken promise.

"Alright - I'll go." Buck raised his hands in resignation. "But you think on my words. Put yourself in Vin's place - consider his feelings for once."

Chris restrained his temper until Buck had left, and then he hurled his glass against the wall as hard as he could. He had spent more than six hours searching for something - anything - that he could pin on Will Grainger but without success. All he had gained for his troubles was frustration. It was not Buck's meddling that angered him; it was the fact that he was right. He should never have left Vin no matter what the provocation had been, but hindsight did nothing to lessen the guilt.

+ + + + + + +

When Vin awoke later that same day he felt decidedly better. The pain was still there but the morphine was helping to keep it to a bearable level, and to his relief the sickness had finally gone. Sunlight shone through the partly open curtains, the lengthening shadows indicating the lateness of the afternoon and for a long moment he just lay still, relishing the moment without discomfort.

He remembered waking up earlier, feeling thoroughly wretched and having to endure the embarrassment of throwing up, but he was glad of Nathan's comforting presence until he had drifted off to sleep again. However, his throat was still sore and as he shifted his head in search of water he saw Will Grainger sitting on a chair beside the bed.

The older Texan had one leg resting up on a stool as he leaned back, his arms folded as he dozed. Vin swallowed, his sore throat temporarily forgotten as he regarded the man and the memories came rushing back.

'I'm yer pa.'

It had all seemed like a bad dream and as he looked at the man slumped in the chair he realised that those three words had suddenly changed his world. If he accepted the man for who he claimed to be it would irrevocably affect his future but he was not sure in what way.

Gritting his teeth the tracker slowly moved to his right so he could study his fellow Texan without straining his neck too much. He found himself looking for some familial resemblance but it was difficult, and his curiosity was further roused by the bruising around the man's eyes and the signs of a broken nose. The man was of a similar build to Chris Larabee but that meant absolutely nothing, and although he knew that the Texan's eyes were the same colour as his own he could see no other obvious likeness. However, the harmonica was fairly strong evidence in Will Drainger's favour. The tune he had played that night - the one that Vin's grandfather had made up himself - indicated an undeniable family connection.

Vin drew a deep breath and gave a sigh but then he tensed as he felt the cough tickling the back of his throat. He had a very clear memory of how painful such a reaction could be and he immediately pressed one hand to his side as he tried unsuccessfully to suppress the urge.

Will Tanner was startled out of his slumber by the painful coughing of the young man in the bed.He hissed as he slid his wounded leg from the stool and he leaned forward anxiously, slipping an arm behind the tracker's back and sitting him up a little.

"Y'alright boy?" he asked as the spasms slowly died away. "D'ya want some water?" He did not wait for a reply. Nathan had left a jug on the side, water mixed with lemon juice and honey to help soothe the tracker's sore throat, and he poured some into a glass. Holding it to the younger man's lips he allowed him a few sips to quench his thirst before easing him back against the pillows. "How's that? Better?"

Vin nodded and Tanner sat back in the chair, content just to watch him for a while. James Owen had told him how ill Vin had been that morning, most of it due to the effects of the chloroform, although the operation itself appeared to have been successful. The young tracker still looked pale and tired but that was only to be expected so soon after such major surgery, and Tanner had been determined to be here when Vin finally woke up.

"The doc says yer comin' along real well," he said, breaking the awkward silence. Vin just looked back at him through half-closed eyes as he tried to get his breath back. "I wanted t'see ya this mornin' but I heard ya weren't so good. Reckon ya needed the sleep." Tanner stopped, feeling a touch uncomfortable with the one-sided conversation and a little concerned by Vin's silence. "Y'alright, son?"

"Am I?" The words were a mere whisper and Tanner frowned in confusion.

"Are ya what?" he asked.

"Am I really yer son?" Now Vin did look at him, a question in the blue eyes, a question that he was not sure he wanted the answer to. Tanner hesitated, rubbing his hand wearily across his face.

"I weren't sure how much ya remembered. I know ya were pretty sick... " He paused, reaching out and resting his hand on Vin's forearm. "But I'm telling ya the truth, boy."

"The truth?" The tracker shook his head and a frown creased his brow. "I dunno what t'believe any more."

"I know it's kinda hard t'take in but like I said before I been lookin' fer ya for years." Tanner sounded sincere but Vin was still not quite convinced.

"But why here? Why now?"

Will thought carefully before he replied. He could sense Vin's indecision and he desperately wanted the young man to believe him.

"I heard talk of these seven men in Four Corners," he said slowly. "Even heard some o'their names, but I weren't sure it was really you." He shrugged. "Then I happened on the Richardsons and helped them out. Turned out they were heading fer Four Corners. I couldn't pass up that chance."

Vin thought long and hard about what Will had just said. He was aware of just how far their reputation was spreading and whilst he felt pride in the achievements of himself and his friends, the tracker lived with the constant fear that someday someone would seek him out for the bounty on his head. It was still his intention to try and clear his name one day but until then he had to be wary of any stranger showing a particular interest in him.

"So ya were comin' here to find me." It was almost a statement from Vin, and Tanner nodded.

"I told ya I'd bin lookin' fer ya. It was the first chance I had." The Texan regarded Vin steadily, and pressed home his advantage. "Ya still don't believe me, do ya boy?" Giving the tracker no time to answer Tanner reached into his inside jacket pocket and Vin suddenly stiffened, wondering what the man was about to do. "Mebbe this'll convince ya." He held out a small dog-eared photograph snf the tracker took it hesitantly, staring at the faded image curiously. It was a picture of a young woman holding a baby in her arms, a stern faced old man with white hair standing just behind her, and Vin felt a vague frisson of familiarity. "D'ya recognise 'em?" Tanner prompted.

The young tracker's hand was shaking but he could not force any words past the tightness in his throat. The image blurred as tears formed in his eyes and he wiped the back of his hand across his nose as his emotions threatened to sweep him away.

"Where'd ya get this?" Vin whispered, his voice choked as he brushed his fingers lightly, almost reverently, over the face of the woman. The tracker would have known his mother anywhere even after all this time and the man behind her was his grandfather, of that he was certain.

"Yer ma sent it t'me when I was in prison. Reckon ya weren't more'n a coupla months old. I carried it with me the whole time. It was the only thing that kept me going." The Texan placed his hand on Vin's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "I didn't mean t'upset ya son, but I always swore that one day I'd find ya."

"But... Why'd ya wait so long?" The tracker regarded the older man through tear-damp lashes, his voice almost breaking with emotion.

"I told ya I'd done some bad things." Tanner hung his head before he continued. "I ain't proud o'them."

"D'ya think I'd a'cared 'bout that? We're family. We shoulda bin together." The was a hint of bitterness in Vin's voice at the thought of all those wasted years but through that he realised that he had just acknowledged this man as his father. He was at a loss to explain just how he felt. So many different emotions tugged at him; he felt betrayed, saddened, and cheated out of what should have been his by right.

"I know I ain't bin much of a father to ya, but gimme a chance. That's all I ask."

Vin looked at the bowed head of his father for a long time and then he turned his gaze back to the photograph.

"Tell me about my mother."

+ + + + + + +

There was a definite hint of approaching winter in the chilly morning air as Chris Larabee strode along the broadwalk towards the office of The Clarion News.

His attempts the previous day to find any information about Will Grainger had come to nothing, and after returning the jailhouse to some semblance of order he had taken himself off to the solitude of the bath-house to soak some of the stiffness from his muscles and to consider his next course of action. Having drawn a blank with Grainger Chris had turned his attention to the attack on Ben Richardson's place. In all honesty, as a peacekeeper he should have been dealing with that first but he had allowed his personal feelings to take precedence over duty.

It had been quite late in the afternoon when Chris had gone to the Bank and discovered it closed for the day. Undeterred, he had dragged the manager away from his supper and persuaded him to open up the office so he could check the copies of Richardson's mortgage papers for an official investigation. The man had been none too co-operative at first, but he had finally agreed after Chris threatened to lock him up for obstructing the course of justice.

He had retired to the boarding house quite early and despite his worries, he had enjoyed a better nights sleep than the one he had spent in the barn. Now, this morning he had decided to check out the deeds at the Land Office. However, he was not really sure what he was looking for, but he thought Mary Travis would be the best person to help him. He knew that her husband had been murdered whilst investigating fraudulant land deals, and she might still have some contacts that could prove useful.

Mary looked up as the gunslinger entered the office, showing remarkable restraint at the sight of the bruises on his face as she smiled in greeting.

"Chris. Buck said you were back."

"He did?" Chris wondered what else the ladies man might have mentioned, but he waited for the blonde woman to make the next comment.

"Yes. We were all worried about Vin, but Buck said Nathan and James had operated and he was going to be fine. Is that true?" She had been relieved when Buck had told her and Amelia with the good news on his return. Although she had initially very concerned about the tracker, she was reassured by Amelia's conviction that he would be in good hands with James. Both women had been very surprised by the disclosure about Will Tanner, but Buck warned her not to broach the subject with Chris Larabee. The gunslinger nodded in reply to her question, and was relieved that Mary did not enquire any further.

"I need you to do me a favour," he asked, and the woman looked slightly curious.

"If I can," she replied. As Chris explained what he needed concerning the Richardson's and their property, Mary found her gaze drawn to the filthy bandage wrapped around the gunslinger's left hand. She was aware of his violent response to Will Tanner's claim, and like Buck she was of the opinion that Chris was over-reacting somewhat. "Yes, I'll help you, but on one condition."

"Condition?" Chris was not used to Mary making demands.

"Yes. Let me change that bandage before we go anywhere." The woman was determined, and Chris had no choice but to agree if he wanted her help. "I'll be right back."

The gunslinger wandered idly around the office until Mary returned with a small box. Chris perched on the corner of the desk as the woman cut the grimy bandage from his hand and he explained his suspicions about the railroad and Mary nodded in interest.

"I remember that. It was about the same time Stephen was trying to expose Frank Elliot and his friends." A shadow passed across the young woman's face but she forced herself to continue. "They were talking about the branch line... ?"

"That's what I want to find out. I think - ow!" Chris yelped as Mary started to bind his broken fingers. Although the swelling had gone down dark bruises covered them and they were still very painful.

"Sorry," Mary apologised as she tied the end off. "There. Is that more comfortable?" The gunslinger gave a quick nod. "Good. I'll just get my shawl."

They spent the next few hours going over the property deeds and comparing the large scale map to the copy of Richardson's mortgage document that Chris had appropriated from the bank. The proposal route for the original branch line was from El Paso, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona. If it had still been going ahead it would cut directly through the northern ranges of Ben Richardsons land.

Mary then suggested she telegraph an old friend of Stephen's who worked in the main bank in Phoenix, to see if he had any further information that might help. As they parted company at the telegraph office she laid her hand on Chris' forearm.

"When are you going back to see Vin?"

"Er... I don't know." Mary's question caught Chris off guard. He had not really thought about when he would be able to do it. It was not that he did not want to see Vin - that was his paramount concern - it was Grainger's presencce that made the situation difficult. "Not for a coupla days."

"Well when you do can you give him my best regards? Tell him Billy and I are thinking of him."

"I'll do that. Thanks for your help, Mary." Chris gave a tight smile as he headed down towards the saloon clutching the various sheets of paper that they had made notes on.

Mary watched as he walked away and her heart ached for him. Chris Larabee was a very troubled man that much was obvious. She had seen the shutters come down when she had asked about Vin. Buck had told her exactly how the gunslinger felt about Will Tanner but she thought he had been exaggerating until now. The hitherto unbreakable relationship between Chris and the young Texan now seemed poised on a knife edge, and she would not like to speculate on how it would turn out.

Chris sat at his usual table in the corner of the saloon, his back to the wall so he could observe all the comings and goings of the patrons. There was a plate of cold meat, cheese and bread by his right elbow as he leaned forward, carefully studying the neatly written sheets of paper spread before him.

As he picked absently at the food Chris re-read some of the notes he and Mary had made at the Land Office that morning. The manager had been conspicuous by his absence but a nervous clerk had given them the documents they required and then left them to read at their leisure. What they had found had been most enlightening.

The gunslinger leaned back in his chair and took a long swallow of his beer just as Ben Richardson entered the saloon. Chris raised one eyebrow in surprise as the Englishman headed for his table and then stopped, his hands resting on the back of a chair as he regarded the gunslinger.

"Ben. What brings you to town?" Richardson gave a quick smile.

"Is it safe to sit down?" he asked, pulling out the chair before the other man replied. "Buck told me you weren't in the best of moods."

"Buck talks too much." There was no malice in Chris' words as he returned the grin. "D'you wanna a beer?"

Richardson nodded politely, although he was still trying to acquire a taste for the American brew. It was nothing like the rich full-bodied beer he had been used to, and it was one of the things he missed about England. Chris signalled to the barkeep for two more beers and then turned to Ben.

"How's Vin?" There was an eagerness in Chris' voice now as he asked the question, and again Richardson womdered why he had left so abruptly, but Buck had warned him not to dig into that too much.

"He's better than he was. James and Nathan were quite concerned about him yesterday morning, but he seems to be making progress now."

The timely arrival of the beers provided a distraction so Ben did not see the guilt that flashed accross the gunslinger's face at his comment. Chris realised he should have stayed and if he could turn back the clock he would have but that was impossible.

"I thought I'd come in and see Amy and the children," Richardson explained in answer to Chris' original question. "I had to tell her about the trouble we had the other night and I was hoping to persuade her to stay in town for a few more days just to be on the safe side, but she refused. Said she'd rather be at home."

The gunslinger smiled. "That's one strong-willed lady you got there," he said.

"Yes." Stubborn was probably the word Ben would have used, but he should have been prepared for her refusal. He should have known that she would not want to be seperated from her husband and brother despite the possibility of danger. Amelia also knew about Vin; she had been with Mary when Buck had told her of the tracker's illness and Tanner's startling claim. That was another reason for her wanting to return. With a guest under her roof, especially a sick one, she felt it only right that she should be there. Richardson gave a wry grin and then turned his attention to the papers strewn on the table.

"So what's all this then?" he asked curiously.

"Thought I'd do a bit of digging. See if I could find a reason for the attack the other night?" Chris informed him, pushing one of the sheets forward. "Seems old man Macready was made an offer for his property some years back."

"An offer? Who from?" Richardson leaned forward, extremely interested in what Chris had discovered.

"A man named Fergusson. He was working for the Southern States Railroad."

"A railway company wanted to buy the land?" Ben glanced down at the sheet Chris had given him and whistled softly when he saw the amount of money the previous owner had turned down. "Why didn't he sell?"

"According to the bank manager Macready was a stubborn old cuss set in his ways. He didn't hold with the railroad carving up the land. As far as everyone knew the idea of a branch line was abandoned."

"So why was his property auctioned off?"

"Well, he never married so when he died the ranch was sold to pay off his debts." Chris took a sip of his beer, seeing the thoughtful expression on Richardson's face as he mulled over the possibilities.

"Maybe it never was abandoned," the Englishman said quietly and he looked steadily at the gunslinger.

"What d'you mean?" Chris wanted to know if there was a specific reason behind that statement. He had already thought of that himself, and Mary had sent telegraphs to El Paso and Phoenix where the railroad company had offices. They were still waiting for answers to them.

"Well, about a week after I'd bought the ranch I was approached by a very polite gentleman who wanted to know if I'd be willing to sell - for a reasonable profit of course."

"The plans show that the line would've cut right through the northern parts of your property." Chris looked at the Englishman, seeing the realisation dawn in his eyes.

"So you think the railway's behind all of this?" Ben could not believe that a reputable company could be so underhanded.

"Looks that way." The gunslinger was under no such illusions.

"So what can we do?"

"Not much until we get proof." Chris hated being so negative but there was little choice. "Mary's making a few inquiries but all you can do is be on your guard for now."

"Those two men that were killed? Buck and I checked the bodies." Richardson grimaced with distaste as he recalled the unpleasant task. "There was nothing to identify them or who they were working for."

"Yeah, I know. I've checked them against the wanted posters but didn't find anything. They seem to've covered their tracks pretty well."

Richardson grew quiet, his face troubled.. He had not been expecting this. He had come to America to realise a dream, but through no fault of his that dream was rapidly turning into a nightmare. There were unscrupulous men the world over but he thought a fresh start would mean exactly that.

"Don't worry. We'll get the evidence we need."

Ben nodded appreciatively. He had begun to realise just how much he could trust this enigmatic gunslinger, and he knew Chris would do his best to ensure the safekeeping of his family.

"So when you thinking of going back?" Chris asked as Richardson took a thoughtful sip of his beer.

"In the morning. With Vin at the ranch Amy wants to get back." He laughed suddenly. "I think she's looking forward to having someone else to fuss over apart from us."

Chris grinned, knowing how much his friend was going to hate that. At the moment the tracker had no choice, but once he started to get better it would drive him to distraction.

"Maybe I'll ride back with you tomorrow. See how Vin's doing."

"That's a good idea," Ben agreed. "It'll solve a problem for me as well. How would you like to ride Mersey Prince back for me?"

The gunslinger looked at Richardson in amazement, and the smile on his face gave the other man his answer.

+ + + + + + +

"It's amazing how different Chris looks when he's happy."

Amelia Richardson made the observationas they made their way back to the ranch As arranged the previous evening Chris had met them at the Livery. He still had not received any reply to the telegraph Mary had sent, and he had asked Buck to keep an eye out for it arriving. With the family and Constance Bartlett seated in the buggy the gunslinger fastened his black gelding to the rear beside Ben's mount and then led Richardson's prize stallion from its stall.

Buck had accompanied him to the stable to say his own goodbyes, although he had not had very much success in chipping away some of the frost from the governess. The ladies man looked on a little enviously as Chris swung into the saddle of the bay stud, taking a few moments to enforce his will upon the spirited animal and letting it know who was in charge.

For almost twenty minutes Chris had kept the stallion to a brisk trot in deference to the slower moving buggy. Now Amelia watched the gunslinger, his expression rapt as the bay tossed its shapely head, fighting against the strong hands that held it in check. The Arab had been kept in the confines of the Livery for three days, grain-fed and bored, but now it just wanted to run.

"What do you mean - different?" Ben was genuinely puzzled and his wife poked him playfully in the ribs.

"Honestly, you men are all the same!"

Although Amelia was glad to be returning home she had enjoyed her few days in town and in particular the company of Mary Travis. The newspaper woman had told her a great deal about Four Corners and with a little prompting how the town had come to be protected by seven peacekeepers, an unusual situation anywhere. With her feminine curiosity piqued Anelia had turned the subject around to Chris and Vin. She had assumed they were friends of longstanding and had been very surprised to learn that they had only known each other for little more than a year. The two men had a natural affinity with one and other and shared a deep bond of friendship, loyalty and trust and it helped her understand why the tracker's illness and Will Tanner's disclosure had affected Chris so badly.

Richardson laughed softly; he had no idea what his wife was talking about but even he could see how much the American was enjoying the ride. Putting his fingers to his lips he whistled shrilly, attracting the gunslinger's attention.

"Give him his head, Chris!" he yelled. "Let him run!"

Chris felt a thrill rush through him at Ben's words. He had never ridden a horse quite like this one before; he had seen the bay's ears prick up at the sound of Richardson's whistle and felt the bunching of the powerful muscles in its hindquarters as it anticipated something. Shortening the reins slightly the gunslinger gently tapped his heels to the Arab's sides. Without breaking stride the stallion stretched out into a full gallop, its silken mane whipping across Chris' face as it sped smoothly across the ground, tirelessly eating up the distance.

The gunslinger had never felt such effortless speed and it was almost intoxicating. For a while as he was carried along by the racing Arab stud Chris forget all his worries as he gave himself up to the exhilarating pleasure.

Will Tanner finished the last of his luncch and glanced over towards the bed once more, a faint smile on his face as he watched his son. Vin was propped up against the pillows dozing, having just consumed almost a whole bowl of thin vegetable broth. Annie Roberts had gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure the soup would be suitable for the recuperating tracker and had brought it in herself. The concerned woman had also been prepared to stay and feed the invalid but Vin was slightly embarrassed by the fussing and insisted politely that he could manage.

The young Texan had not eaten anything for almost four days and was surprised how hungry he actually was, but even the small bowl had defeated him in the end and he did not even touched the fresh bread at all. Tired by the effort he had fallen asleep as soon as Will had removed the tray from his lap. That had been about half an hour ago, long enough for the older man to eat the cold lunch that had been brought in for him and pour himself another dup of coffee. As he rose to his feet he felt a sudden twinge in his injured leg and he put his hand on the back of the seat to steady himself. The chair moved away from him slightly, the feet scraping loudly on the polished floor, and he ccursed as he saw the tracker start and open his eyes.

"Sorry, son. Didn't mean t'wake ya," he apologised, limping accross to sit beside the bed.

"S'okay, I weren't really asleep," Vin replied and then he frowned in concern as he saw the other man rubbing absently at his thigh. "What's wrong wit' ya leg?"

"Just a bit stiff is all. Must be gettin' old."

"Y'ain't that old." Even as he said it Vin realised that he had no idea just what age Will Tanner really was. Hell, he did not even know his own birthdate! The older Texan laughed.

"Let's jus' say I won't see fifty again, boy>"

The traccker laughed with him, still marvelling at the way he felt at ease with this man who until four days ago had simply been just another stranger. It had not happened with the speed nor the intensity of the instant rapport he had experienced with Chris Larabee. That was unique in itself, and this bond would need to be worked on by both of them but he was starting to feel comfortable with it. Thinking about the gunslinger brought a frown to his face, making him wonder once again why Chris was not there and trying hard to ignore the reason why. He knew things would not be settled until Chris accepted Will Tanner for who he was.

"Y'alright?" Tanner leaned forward anxiously as he saw the young man's troubled expression but Vin shrugged it off.

"Yeah. I'm just a bit tired." It was only half the truth but Will seemed satisfied.

"Why don't ya get some rest? We've got plenty o'time to talk."

As Vin settled back against the pillows Tanner got up to refill his cup from the pot on the corner table just as the door opened and Nathan came in.

"Ben's back wit' the family," he informed them and then looked directly at the tracker. "Chris is with 'em." The healer saw the uncertainty on Vin's face as he glancced over at the older Texan but it was the brief flicker of annoyance from Will Tanner that surprised him the most. However, he put that down to the animosity between Chris and the tall Texan and the fact that Tanner was trying to get to know his son. "D'ya feel up to a visitor?" Despite his moment of doubt there was no denying the enthusiasm in the tracker's eyes. "Alright. Let me get rid of these trays."

Nathan picked up the lunch things and exited the room, stopping to speak briefly to Chris Larabee as the gunslinger walked through the study towards the bedroom.

Chris paused as he stepped across the threshold and a grin came to his face. His eyes fastened eagerly on the lean form of the tracker and he had not realised how much he needed to see that he was alright until this moment. Vin was sitting up in the bed pillows tucked behind his back and there was a hesitant smile on his face as he regarded his friend.

"Well you look a whole lot better than when I saw you last." Chris tried to keep the greeting light but there was an edge of forced affability in his tone as his guilt came creeping back. He walked forward a few more paces and then stopped, suddenly aware that someone else was in the room. His expression changed, disdain replacing the grin as Grainger limped forward and halted by the end of the bed, resting his hand casually on the foot of the bedstead.

"Larabee." The Texan smiled, raising his coffee cup in acknowledgement. Chris glanced down at Grainger's hand, tensing at his almost proprietory gesture, but he did not trust himself to reply. It was Vin who broke the deadlock. He could feel the strained atmosphere between the two men as he glanced from one bruised face to the other. Nobody had mentioned a fight to him; nobody had needed to, but all the signs were right there for him to see.

"Hey, cowboy. Good t'see ya." There was genuine delight in the tracker's weary voice and the other Texan glanced at him sharply, seeing the warmth in his smile. He was also surprised to hear Vin call the gunslinger 'cowboy'; he had witnessed Larabee's contemptuous reaction to that word on their first meeting but the tracker obviously knew that he was on safe and well-trodden ground.

"Y'mind what the doc told ya. Yer not t'tire yerself out." Realising the gunslinger was intending to stay awhile Tanner tried his best to dissuade him. Vin still had difficulty remaining awake for any length of time and the Englishman had advised him to get as much rest as possible.

"I know, but d'ya mind... ?" Vin gave an apologetice smile and Tanner nodded in resignation.

"Alright. I'll leave you boys to talk." As he headed for the door he threw Vin a quick smile. "I'll see ya later, son."

Chris remained standing stiffly where he was until the door had closed and then he took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. Crossing over to the bed he pulled a chair forward and sat down, removing his hat and gripping it in his hands.

"So how're you doing?" It was the obvious question to ask but Chris could see some of the answer for himself. Vin did not look quite so drawn as he had and some of the colour was starting to creep back into his cheeks, a far cry from when the gunslinger had seen him immediately after the operation.

"Better. It still hurts like hell if I move."

Chris nodded and looked away, his gaze sweeoing round the small but well furnished bedroom. The tracker's clean and neatly folded clothes were laid on a chair to one side, his hat and gunbelt hanging over the back. The young Texan waited for his friend to say something but he could see that he was ill at ease as he ran his fingers nervously round the rim of his hat.

"So how're things in town?" Vin asked eventually. Chris looked back at him a frown on his face as he tried desperately to think of something to say.

"Well, one of Tiny's mares is in foal." The gunslinger winced as he said it wondering how he could have come out with such an inane comment. He had never felt so awkward in the tracker's presence before and he could tell that Vin was having the same problem. For a brief moment he regretted his decision to come back to the ranch but he could not have stayed away if he tried.

"Really?" The Texan sounded totally disinterested. With a heavy sigh he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. In the past, many of the conversations between himself and Chris had been interspersed with long silences but they were companionable, with no need for words. He was not used to the uneasiness of this stilted coversation and he could sense that their relationship had already changed.

"Vin? You alright? Do you want me to go?" For almost the first time since he had entered the room Chris sounded sincere and he was conscious that he might have tired him but the young Texan opened his eyes and turned to his friend.

"No. I'm fine." For an instant they held eye contact but it was Chris who looked away first this time, tight-lipped and grim as he carefully studied his hat. Vin watched the gunslinger for a few seconds, noticing for the first time the bandage wrapped around his left hand. "What d'ya do t'yer hand?"

"My hand?" The gunslinger started guiltily and then shrugged. "It was an accident."

"Don't lie t'me, Chris." Up until now the gunslinger had never been less than honest with him and there was hurt and betrayal in Vin's eyes. "I know yer bin fightin' wit' Will."

The gunslinger looked up and there was a glimmer of hope in the hazel eyes at Vin's use of the Texan's first name. "Will? Not pa?" There was a long silence after Chris' sarcastic query and the pain in the tracker's blue eyes was not just caused by his wound.

"Just ain't got used t'calling 'im that yet," he said slowly waiting for the inevitable response.

"So - you believe him then." Chris held his breath as their eyes locked, willing the tracker to voice the denial he wanted to hear. However, the longer the silence dragged on the more his sense of foreboding grew.

"Yeah - I do." The young Texan whispered those three fateful words and Chris reeled as though he had been struck. He could see the belief in Vin's eyes but more than that he could see the beginning of the end of their friendship. "I know what ya think of him, Chris, but if ya just give him a chance... " The tracker paused, seeing the determined set of Chris' jaw. "He's m'pa but it ain't gonna change what's between us." Vin was almost pleading, trying to convince himself that things would remain the same, but deep down he knew they would not. There was a rift between them now, and that rift was Will Tanner.

"I ain't about to change my mind 'cos you think he's your pa." The words came out with more anger than Chris had intended. He did not want to upset the recovering tracker but he was still convinced that the other Texan was deceiving Vin while he was at his most vulnerable. "What proof have you got? Just his word? That ain't good enough."

"He showed me a picture. It was my ma and my grandpa an' me as a baby." There was a wistful sadness in Vin's eyes as he spoke. "I ain't never seen a picture of my ma before."

"How the hell d'you know it was her then?" Chris hated being so brutal but he had to make the tracker see that Grainger was playing him for a fool. "How old were you when she died? Four? Five? How can you remember her?"

"I remember," Vin growled softly but the gunslinger was not finished.

"So where the hell's he been? Why'd it take him so long to come looking for you?" Chris was warming to his argument now, oblivious to Vin's irritation and his strained features as he started to tire.

"I ain't sayin' he's perfect. Fact is he spent some time in prison."

"Prison?" Chris pounced on that one word with all the speed of a winter-starved mountain lion. "What'd he do?"

"Hell does it matter?" Vin gave a heavy sigh but he was getting angry with his friend now. "Why ya so all-fired set against him?"

"'Cos he's lying to you. I just wish I could make you see that."

Vin stared at him for a moment and there was reproach in his voice when he replied. "At least he was here for me. Where were you?"

Chris drew a deep breath. Vin's accusing words were like a knife cutting into his soul, twisting through the guilt that already nestled there. "What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped even though he knew the answer.

"I needed ya t'be here but ya couldn't be bothered t'stick around."

"Is that what you think?" Chris' eyes narrowed as he got to his feet. "When your precious pa told you I'd left I was standing right outside that door! He lied to you then and he's lying to you now, but you’re too blind to see it." Angrily jamming on his hat Chris turned and started to walk away. "Open your eyes, Vin," he flung over his shoulder. "Take a long hard look."

"Damn you, Larabee! Who the hell d'ya think ya are?" Vin completely forgot himself as he finally lost his temper. Flinging back the bedclothes the tracker made a futile attempt to get out of bed. The pain that tore through him ripped one inarticulate cry from his throat before it took his breath away and he collapsed back, curling on his right side to try and ease the agony.

"Oh shit!" Chris went pale as he turned and saw the young Texan writhing on the bed and he rushed back. Perching on the edge of the mattress the gunslinger caught hold of Vin, pulling him up so his head and shoulders were resting in his lap as he held him close. The tracker had his hands pressed firmly against his wound, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. "It's alright, Vin. I've got you."

"Chris - what the hell happened?" Nathan was suddenly at the other side of the stricken Texan. The healer had heard the sound of raised voices and was already on his way in when Vin cried out in pain. He could see that the bedclothes had been pushed aside and he guessed that the tracker had been trying to get out of bed. "It's okay, Vin. Take a deep breath. That's it, and again. Now lemme see."

Chris did not know what to say as Nathan tried to calm Vin down. The gunslinger was already carrying enough guilt as it was and now as he looked at the tracker's pain-pinched features how could he admit that this was also his fault? He had never seen his friend in such agony before and it scared the hell out of him.

"Aw dammit!" Nathan hissed as he lifted up Vin's nightshirt and saw the blood staining the bandage. "Looks like he's torn his stitches."

"What?" Chris looked at the dressing in dismay as the healer gently moved Vin's hands away from the area.

"Stay with him while I get my things. Don't let him move!"

If he had not been so worried Chris would have laughed. Stay with him? A herd of wild horses would not be sufficient to drag him away at this moment! He could feel Vin quivering with pain as his hands returned to clutch at his side and see the tears that dampened his lashes, and he felt totally responsible for this setback.

"I'm sorry, Vin," he whispered hesitantly, brushing the clinging hair from the tracker's sweaty brow. Chris Larabee never apologised for anything but the words came easy to him now. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Maybe I wasn't here for you before but I'm here now for as long as you need me."

It was doubtful whether the gunslinger's words had registered in Vin's mind as he fought against the pain but they made Chris realise just how selfish he had been. Friendship was a process of give and take, and for some time now he had been doing all the taking. Now it was time for him to redress the balance no matter how difficult that might prove under the circumstances. He owed it to Vin to at least try.

It was as he sat there holding the Texan to him and willing Nathan to hurry that Chris noticed for the first time that the talisman was gone from around his friend’s neck.

Ben Richardson was relieved that Amy had decided to take the two children upstairs for an afternoon nap. The atmosphere when he had returned to the main house with Will Tanner had become decidedly fraught.

James and Nathan had spent some time with Vin, cleaning and re-stitching the wound, and now he was sleeping quietly after being well dosed with laudanum. The whole procedure had been watched by a worried Chris Larabee who had remained sitting on the bed and holding the suffering tracker despite being told to leave.

The young Englishman was just putting in the last of the stitches when Tanner stepped into the bedroom and stopped dead, his expression one of alarm at the scene which met his eyes.

"What the hell's happened?" he demanded, limping forward to see what they were doing.

"It's nothin' to worry about. Vin just tore a coupla stitches." Nathan looked up at the older man, seeing the anger as he glared accusingly at Chris Larabee.

"How'd that happen? What d'ya do?" The gunslinger did not even bother to look up and Tanner took another step forward. "I'm talking t'ya, Larabee."

Nathan stood up, placing himself between the two men as he rested a placating hand on the Texan's shoulder.

"Leave it, Will," he warned. "Let's get Vin settled first." The older man stared at the healer for a moment seeing the determination on his face, but he looked beyond him once more at the gunslinger before he relented.

"Fine, but I'll be just outside."

Nathan and James were grateful then for Ben Richardson's timely arrival, his presence helping to defuse the tense situation as he led the Texan out to the drawing room at the front of the house. Both the healer and the doctor knew that another confrontation between Chris and Tanner was inevitable but they did not want Vin to suffer a further setback because of it. The tracker would most likely sleep for several hours but they were not prepared to take the risk of having him disturbed by an argument between the two people he cared about. As James taped a clean dressing in place Nathan turned and dropped a hand on Chris' shoulder.

"Come on. Ya can leave him now. He 'll be alright." The healer watched as Chris reluctantly eased the tracker back onto the bed and then he slowly stood up. Nathan was surprised when he simply walked out of the room. He was aware that the gunslinger had not said a word since Vin's collapse and he could see the pain and the guilt etched on his face. It was not just Vin Tanner who was hurting but he suspected that it would take a lot longer for Chris to heal.

"That's it." James Owen pulled the covers back up to the traccker's chin and straightened up. "I don't think there's any real harm done. It'll probably be best if we just leave him to sleep."

As the docctor gathered up his equipment Nathan picked up the bowl of water and both men went out into the study. To their amazement Chris was still there, staring out of the window at the wild overgrown area that had once been a neat kitchen garden. James glanced at the healer but Nathan shook his head slowly. There was no point in anybody laying the blame at Chris' feet. It was obvious that he was already deeply troubled and unhappy.

"I'll clear up here," Owen offered. "Why don't you two go through to the drawing room? That's where Ben keeps his best brandy."

"Reckon that's a good idea," Nathan stated. "Come on, Chris. I dunno about you but I could do with a drink."

Unfortunately the brandy was not the only thing waiting for them in the drawing room. As soon as they reached the doorway Will Tanner launched into his angry tirade before Ben could stop him.

"So, is someone gonna tell me how all this happened? He was fine when I left 'im."

"Ain't nothing to tell." Nathan remained calm as he saw the gunslinger suddenly tense. "I already told ya - "

"I know what ya said!" Tanner interupted him and pointed a finger at Chris. "It's all yer damn fault, Larabee! Ya just stay the hell away from my son, ya hear?"

"I left once before," the gunslinger hissed dangerously. "I ain't about to do it again."

"When ya gonna understand? He don't need ya no more," Tanner spat, his voice dark with anger. "No more'n he needed that Indian nonsense ya hung round his neck!"

With a guilty start Nathan suddenly remembered he had the roaroke in his pocket but before he could say anything Chris had stepped forward and poked a finger at Tanner's chest.

"What did you do with it?" he snapped. He had already guessed that Tanner - how he hated thinking of him as that - had been the one to remove it from his friend. "Did you even bother to find out what it was? At least I know what Vin believes in. If you were any kind of father you'd've taken the time to find out!" Despite his anger Chris could not keep the smugness from his voice.

Ben Richardson had had enough. He had hoped that the two men would be able to put their hostility aside for the sake of the tracker but he had been sadly disillusioned. Now he could see this latest confrontation escerlating into yet another fight and he was not prepared to stand for that, not with his family back home.

"This has gone far enough!" Both men looked round as the Englishman stepped forward, his face grim as he shouldered his way between them. "I won't stand for any more of this nonsense under my roof!" The anger in his voice was something neither Chris nor Tanner had heard before and they actually stopped and listened to him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Richardson," the Texan apologised. "But I'm only tryin' t'do what's best for m'boy."

"I can understand that, Will, but you're both going about it the wrong way. You're his father and you - " Ben turned to face Chris. " - you're supposed to be his friend. Have either of you considered what this fighting is going to do to Vin?"

Nathan almost applauded the Englishman's words when he saw Chris and Tanner exchange a brief glance. He could only hope that the voice of reason from an objective outsider would bring them to their senses.

"For as long as Vin is a guest in this house I shall expect you both to put aside your differences and behave with some decorum." Ben tried hard not to look at Nathan; he could see the amusement in the healer's eyes as he continued to lay down the law to these two dangerous men. "If not... I will be forced to dispense with your services Will, and Chris - you will no longer be welcome here." The ultimatum was harsh and unexpected but it had the desired effect if the astonishment on the faces of the two Americans was to be believed. Neither man wanted to be kept away from Vin but Richardson was well within his rights to do so. "Now, let's put an end to this and shake on it like gentlemen."

They stared at the Englishman in utter disbelief but it was Will Tanner who held out his hand first.

"He's right, Larabee. Vin wouldn't want it either."

Nathan held his breath as he warily watched the gunslinger, fully expecting Chris just to turn around and walk away but he was wrong. The handshake was so brief that it could scarcely be called that but Ben seemed satisfied with the token gesture.

"Good. Now that's settled I think we could all do with a brandy." Crossing to the cabinet he poured drinks for them all and handed them round. "Gentleman, a toast to Vin's speedy recovery."

Nobody in the room was going to argue with that sentiment. It was what they all wanted and Richardson smiled, feeling quite pleased that he had achieved an easing of the tension and animosity between Chris and Tanner. He just prayed that it lasted.

The house was quiet and dark as a tall shape crept through the shadows across the top landing and paused at the head of the stairs, listening carefully for any other sound of movement. Hearing none the figure slowly descended the stairs, booted feet making very little noise on the boards.

A lamp was still alight on the table by the front door, the wick turned low, but there was still sufficient light for Chris Larabee to see where he was going. The household had been asleep for some time but the gunslinger was restless. He had lain on top of the bedcovers in the guest room fully clothed and dozed for about an hour but as the time had crawled past one o'clock in the morning he had got up, his footsteps taking him down to James Owen's room and Vin.

The study was in darkness but he could hear the faint snores coming from the sprawled figure on the couch to his left. However, light showed at the crack of the door leading through to the bedroom and he stepped softly forward, ,just standing and looking for a moment.

Nathan was sitting beside the bed, his back to the door and totally unaware of the gunslinger's presence and Chris watched as he leaned forward and laid his hand against Vin's brow. The tracker stirred slightly, turning his head away but Nathan soothed him with with a few murmured words.

"Nathan?" The quiet voice startled the healer and he swivelled in his chair as Chris stepped further into the room. "How's he doing?"

"Waal he's a mite feverish tonight," he replied, wringing a cloth out of the bowl on water on the bedside table and laying it across the young Texan's forehead once more. Chris swore under his breath as he looked down at Vin's flushed, pinched features. Dragging the other chair forward he sat down on the opposite side of the bed with a sigh, cursing his hasty words and rash comments of the previous afternoon.

"I knew it was a mistake coming back," he groaned softly. "I've done him more harm than good."

"Ya weren't t'know, Chris. This coulda happened any time after the operation." Nathan could see how dejected the gunslinger was so there was no point in telling him that his friend's slight relapse was probably due to the tearing of his stitches.

"Yeah - but it didn't. Dammit, I got angry with him, Nathan. Said some things I probably shouldn't. That's why he tried to get up." There was so much bitterness and self-reproach in Chris' voice as he reached out and touched Vin's cheek lightly, feeling the unnatural warmth beneath his fingers. "Maybe I should stay away."

"D'ya think he'd want that?" The healer shook his head. "Ya gotta let this go before it tears ya apart. The man's his pa. Vin's accepted it and ya gotta, too."

For a long moment Chris did not answer. "How can I?" he whispered eventually. "I just don't trust him. It's a gut feeling that won't go away."

"Don't ya think Vin woulda felt that too?" Nathan countered. "He's spent too long lookin' over his shoulder t'let his guard down for no reason. Don't ya trust his instincts anymore?"

"Normally I would but this ain't normal." The gunslinger dug his heels in, refusing to compromise. "He's just taking advantage of Vin while he's sick."

"How?" Nathan could not understand Chris' reasoning at all. "The man's jus' done everything a concerned father would." The healer hesitated, wondering whether he dare voice the suspicion in his mind. "Ya think he's after the reward, don't ya?" he continued, throing caution to the wind and he knew he was right when the gunslinger simply looked down at Vin. "Chris, he coulda took 'im any time! All he had t'do was lose Ben. The wanted poster says 'Dead or Alive' and it wouldn't've mattered either way to a bounty hunter!"

Chris knew that everything Nathan had just said was true but it did not take away the feeling of mistrust. However, that was only one part of the problem. Maybe Buck's comment warranted some consideration after all. 'You're afraid he's gonna take Vin away from you'. The gunslinger had laughed at that statement but perhaps he had been too hasty. Vin had been such an important part of his life for more than a year now - almost like his other half - and he was not ready to give that up willingly.

"I ain't askin' ya t'be Tanner's friend," Nathan said, cutting through the gunslinger's thoughts. "Jus' try an' tolerate him fer Vin's sake. All this fighting ain't gonna help his recovery none."

Chris nodded although it was not going to be easy to set aside everything his instincts told him. Sitting back in his chair he watched as Nathan moistened the cloth once more and replaced across Vin's forehead, seeing the way his sensitive fingers slipped down to check his pulse, and the gunslinger suddenly realised just how much they all owed this man. It was obvious how tired the healer was but as always he was prepared to put aside his own well-being for the sake of someone else.

"Y'know, I've never really thanked you, Nathan."

"What fer?" The healer glanced up in surprise. "Weren't jus' me. James did the operation."

"But you persuaded him. Vin woulda died without that. And it ain't just this time," Chris went on. "I guess we all take you for granted and we shouldn't. Hell, I wouldn't be having this conversation now if it weren't for you!"

Nathan had the grace to look embarrassed. Chris' reference to the serious illness he had contracted a few months ago brought back all the frustration and helplessness that the healer had felt at the time. He had been convinced that the gunslinger was going to die but with the help of Vin and Rain he had pulled Chris through the crisis.

"I don't need no thanks. I'm just glad I can help."

Nathan did not really need to think about that answer. It was exactly what he had attempted to tell James when he was trying to persuade him to operate. Doctor or healer - it did not matter which. The only thing that counted was having the power to help people and the courage and conviction to carry it through.

Vin's fever continued through the night long after Chris had reluctantly gone back to bed, finally breaking around noon of the following day. Nathan and James had taken it in turns to remain with him and although Tanner insisted he should be there as well both of them had been determined that the tracker would be better left undisturbed by any visitors, no matter who.

Chris remained, keeping away from Vin when he was awake through choice, unwilling to risk a further setback. However, that did not stop him sitting with the young tracker at other times, watching over him carefully when he slept. Will Tanner he chose to ignore completely and the Texan appeared to be doing the same with him, much to everybody else's relief. Amelia and Annie Roberts did their best to ensure that Vin remained comfortable, providing fresh bedding and clean nightshirts and a variety of light meals to tempt his returning appetite. Almost a week had passed since the operation and Vin was becoming anxious to get out of bed, and he voiced that opinion to James as the doctor was changing the dressing on his wound.

"Don't try to rush things," Owen admonished as he taped the new dressing in place. "It's healing quite nicely and I think we'll be able to take the stitches out in a few more days. Then we'll see about you getting out of bed."

Vin had no option but to agree. He had finally been told by James exactly what had been wrong with him and had even been shown a picture of an appendix in one of the Englishman's medical books. The tracker had been amazed that something so small could have caused so much pain and had near-fatal consequences. As the doctor packed away his things and straightened the blankets around him the Texan glanced across at the window as the late afternoon sun cast dappled shadows over the floor.

"Is Chris still here?" he asked suddenly and James looked up hesitantly.

"Yes. I don't think he's going anywhere until he knows you're okay."

Vin frowned, wondering why the gunslinger had not been to see him but he could make a very good guess as to the reason. Their last conversation had been far from pleasant and abruptly curtailed by his collapse as he lost his temper. He knew Chris would have blamed himself for that and he thought it might have driven him away again.

"He had a fight wit' my pa, didn't he?"

"Yes, Vin, he did." James Owen gave a heavy sigh as he sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded the man he was starting to think of as a friend rather than just a patient. "I think it's going to take him a long time to accept for who he says he is." Vin nodded nodded, wondering if Chris ever would. Somehow he doubted it. "It's funny though... " Owen's voice trailed off as his brow creased in cunfusion.

"What?"

"Well, we didn't want to tell you before... A few hours after we operated on you the ranch was attacked." James saw the tracker turn a little pale and he felt a chill run through him as his own fears from that night re-surfaced. However, he shook himself as Vin leaned forward expectantly, interested in what he had to say and he forced himelf on. "Chris thought they were just trying to scare us and hadn't been expecting so many people to be here."

"So what happened?"

"When they attempted to run the horses off your father went to stop them. He was lucky he was only hit in the leg. If Chris hadn't gone out and dragged him back he might have been killed."

"Chris? He what... ?" Vin sounded astonished. It was not the fact that Will Tanner had been wounded - it explained the limp that he had passed off simply as age - it was that Chris had effectively saved his life. It did not make any sense at all to the tracker and James could see his bewilderment.

"Didn't either of them tell you?"

Vin shook his head wordlessly, wondering just what was going on his friend's mind. "I want to see him."

"Who? You're father?"

"No. Chris."

"Maybe later. I think you need to get some rest now." James could see the weariness on the Texan's face but there was a determined set to his jaw and a steely resolve in the blue eyes.

"I'm fine. I need to see him now."

Owen knew that Vin was not going to settle until he had seen the gunslinger but he still put his own limitation on the visit.

"I'll go and find him. But it'll only be for a short while. Then you sleep - alright?"

"Ya know, ya sound jus' like Nathan!" Vin gave the Englishman a faint grin and James smiled in return. He could think of no higher compliment.

Chris Larabee knocked hesitantly on the bedroom door and then pushed it slowly open when he heard no sound from within.

James Owen had informed him of Vin's desire to see him when he had found him exercising one of Ben's mares in the main corral. At first he had been surprised and somewhat reluctant to respond to the tracker's wishes but in the end he had cleaned himself up and made his way through the house to the room.

Vin was slumped back against the pillows, his eyes tightly closed and apparently fast asleep and Chris felt a moment of disappointment tinged with the relief that he would not have to face his friend especially in liight of what had had happened last time. With a sigh he turned to leave.

"Sneaking out again, cowboy?"

Chris froze at the sound of a familiar voice and he swung back to see Vin smiling at him.

"Thought you were asleep," the gunslinger explained, stepping forward and resting his hands on the back of the chair beside the bed.

"Not anymore." In all honesty Vin had been convinced that Chris was not going to come and see him at all. It had to be at least an hour since he had asked James to find his friend and in the end he had just dropped into a tired doze. He regarded the gunslinger steadily and then indicated the chair. "Ya gonna stand there all day, Larabee?"

Chris could see the humour in the tracker's eyes, more like the Vin of old and he grinned as he slipped into the chair, encouraged by his friend's attitude.

"James told me I couldn't stay long," he warned but Vin waved his hand dismissively.

"He fusses 'nigh on as much as Nathan!" the young Texan replied although he was acutely aware of his own weakness. There was a long silence but this time it did not feel uncomfortable. Rather it was the familiatr silence of friends who had no need of words. It was Chris who spoke first, wanting to express his regret over their disagreement three days ago.

"Vin, about what I said - " He got no further as the tracker held up his hand and cut him off.

"Forget it. I ain't blaming ya fer what happened. I guess it's gonna take a while t'get used to... things."

Chris could feel himself relaxing at Vin's comments. The whole sorry situation had been playing on his conscience for the past few of days but now the guilt had been alleviated to a certain degree.

"Nathan says their gonna take your stitches out in a coupla days." The gunslinger keptthe conversation light. "Does that mean you'll be able to come back to town soon?" The sentiment behind the question was two-fold. Not only was Vin being missed in Four Corners but Chris wanted to put some distance between him and Will Tanner.

"Soon as I can get outta bed and sit a horse!" Vin stated fervently. He hated being cooped up inside for too long but he had the feeling that his freedom would be a little longer in coming. "Reckon Peso's gettin' as restless as me!"

Chris laughed. It was typical of Vin to think about his horse's well-being before his own but he knew the black gelding had been exercised recently by one of Ben Richardson's hands. The gunslinger's amusement was infectious and Vin laughed in return but stopped as it turned into a cough, and he immediately reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.

"Here – I’ll get that." Chris had seen the pained grimace on his friend's face as he stretched across and he picked it up and placed it in Vin's hand. The tracker nodded gratefully as he slaked his thirst and handed the glass back.

"So when were ya gonna tell me about the attack on the ranch?"

Chris almost dropped the glass, surprised by Vin's question. "Who told you about that?" he demanded.

"James. Why didn't you tell me?" There was no accusation in the Texan's voice, just natural curiosity knowing that Ben had had trouble in the past.

"There didn't seem any point in worrying you."

"Like there didn't seem any point tellin' me ya saved m'pa's life?"

Chris swore softly under his breath. It was the obvious question for Vin to ask but the gunslinger could not explain his actions of that night even to himself.

"Figgered he might've told you that himself." Chris deliberately evaded the question and Vin knew it.

"So did ya find out who it was?" the tracker went on, making a mental note to ask his father about the incident later.

"Not yet, but we've got a few ideas. Before I left town I was waiting for replies to some telegraph's Mary sent. Buck should have the answers by now."

Vin cursed the circumstances that prevented him from helping with the investigation but there was very little he could do about it. "Why don't ya head back t'town in the morning? See what else ya can find out?"

Chris cocked his head to one side and gave his friend a little half-smile. "You trying to get rid o'me, Tanner?"

"Nope." The tracker returned the grin but then he became serious. "I like these people, Chris. I wanna find out whos doin' this to 'em. Just wish there was summat I could do but I cain't."

"All you can do is get well. We'll do the rest."

Chris felt a little relieved by Vin's words. Much as he wanted to stay he was just as anxious as the tracker to find out who was behind all the trouble that the Richardson's had encountered so far. However, he was also very pleased that he and Vin seemed to have resolved some of their differences and repaired a few of the sagging fences. He could return to town in a much more positive frame of mind.

+ + + + + + +

Chris and Nathan were ready to leave after breakfast the following morning. The healer felt that he had been away from town long enough and he had no reservations about leaving Vin in James care. Neither did Chris now; he had said his farewell to the tracker earlier that morning and promising to return soon, hopefully with some information regarding the attack on the ranch and who was behind it. It was a reluctant leavetaking but they both knew that there were things that needed to be done. Ben, Amelia and James were on the front porch to see them off and Nathan held his hand out to the young doctor.

"I hope we can get together real soon," the healer said, admiration for the Englishman evident in his voice.

"I'd like that. Hopefully the circumstances will be a lot different." James would be the first to admit that he had benefitted from the healer's knowledge of herbal lore as much as Nathan had from his practical expertise. "Thank you again for making me believe in myself. I know I couldn't have done it without your help."

Nathan looked a little embarrassed, but he was also very flattered. It was praise that he never thought he would have heard from a medical man.

"Now don't forget our invitation. It's less than two weeks to Christmas now." Amelia looked up earnestly at the gunslinger. She was determined that this year, their first in the New World, would be a Christmas to remember.

"I ain't making no promises, ma'am, what with everything that's been going on. It just might not be possible." Chris tried his best to find a plausible excuse.

"We'd really like you all to come. Mary and Billy are looking forward to it, and I'm sure Vin will still be here, if James has anything to do with it. We'd like to spend this first Christmas with all our new friends."

The gunslinger glanced at Ben for help, but Richardson just shrugged. He had learned long ago never to argue with Amelia when she had her heart set on something.

"We'll see." Chris gave her one of his most disarming smiles, and Amelia could feel herself blushing. "Thanks for your hospitality, ma'am," he said, and then turned to Ben, holding out his hand. "I'll let you know as soon as we find anything, but in the meantime just be on your guard."

"We always are."

As Chris and Nathan climbed onto their horses the gunslinger took a last lingering look back at the house. Whilst he knew that Vin would be well looked after he still felt a sense of misgiving knowing that Tanner would be a constant presence at the ranch. Amelia saw the anxious frown on his face and she stepped forward to the edge of the porch.

"Don't worry about Vin. He'll be just fine."

"Yes, ma'am." Chris touched his hat politely before looking back at Richardson. "We'll see you soon." Pulling the black gelding around the gunslinger nudged it into a trot, Nathan right beside him. As they passed under the archway Will Tanner appeared, nodding to both men as they rode through.

It took a supreme effort for Chis to resist the urge to look back at the Texan's smiling face and he felt a sudden surge of anger. Despite what everyone else thought of him, despite Vin apparently accepting him as his father, he would never be able to trust this man.

He could only hope that for Vin's sake his instincts would prove to be wrong just this once.

Part Five

Amelia Richardson was the first out of the front door to greet the guests, Charles Roberts close behind her, as Mary stopped the buggy at the edge of the porch with Chris and the other five peacekeepers ranged alongside it.

"I'm so glad you all came!" she exclaimed excitedly as Billy Travis scrambled down from his mother's buggy, and she leaned down so that she was on the boy's level. "Edward and Emily are waiting inside and I think they might have a little surprise for you. If you follow Charles he'll show you where they are."

Billy looked at his mother as Ezra helped her down from the buggy and she nodded approvingly.

"Come along, young man. Let's see what we can find." Roberts smiled as he held his hand out to Billy and led him into the house. The rest of the peacekeepers dismounted as Ben came from the main barn to join them.

"Hello, Chris," he said clasping the gunslinger's hand warmly. "Glad you could make it."

"Well, it was pretty quiet in town and the boys figgered they deserved a break, so... " Chris shrugged. It had taken a lot of persuasion from the rest of the peacekeepers to convince him that he would enjoy himself. Only Buck suspected the real reason for his reluctance; the gunslinger had not celebrated Christmas as such since the deaths of Sarah and Adam and his normal way of dealing with the holiday was to get so drunk that he did not remember anything. In the end it was Billy Travis' enthusiasm that had finally made him relent even though it was a painful reminder of his own son's excitement at the festive season.

"Besides, we can't let Vin have all the fun, can we?" Buck made the comment as he came up beside Chris and held his hand out to Richardson. "Howdy, Ben."

"So how is Vin?" Nathan wanted to know.

"Improving every day," Amelia replied. "Although he will try to do more than he should. I suppose you know all about that, Nathan."

"Only too well, ma'am!" the healer agreed with a smile.

"At least James managed to convince him to get some rest this afternoon. I think he's probably still asleep at the moment."

Mary had been standing quietly looking around the place as the others talked. She could remember the ranch as it was when old Macready had owned it and how he had let it fall into disrepair, and she was amazed by the transformation that had been wrought in a few short months.

"You've certainly done wonders with the place," she enthused, and Amelia smiled with a touch of pride.

"Wait til you see inside," she said, slipping her arm through Mary's. "Come along. Let me show you where you and Billy will be sleeping." As the two women entered the house chatting animatedly, Ben rolled his eyes skyward.

"Oh Lord!" he groaned. "They'll be talking chintz and lace all evening now!" The peacekeepers laughed at his mournful expression but they could understand exactly what he meant. "I can't offer you anything as fancy as the guest room," he continued. "But I think you'll find the bunkhouse clean and comfortable enough. Come on, let's get these horses seen to and then I think a warming drink before supper would be a very good idea."

There were murmurs of appreciation from the six men as Ben grasped the bridle of the buggy horse, and he grinned as he led it into the barn. It looked as though the holiday was getting off to a good start.

After a quick tour of the house and having admired the festive greenery that adorned the walls and staircase, Mary was talking with Amelia in the entrance hall as Ben ushered the six Americans in. He barely had time to close the front door before Billy erupted from the drawing room, his face flushed with excitement.

"Chris! Chris! You gotta come see this!" The boy grabbed hold of the gunslinger's hand and dragged him through the double doors before he could protest, Buck and the others on his heels. "Look!" Chris followed the excited youngster's pointing finger, although it was totally unnecessary.

"Wow!" The gunslinger glanced round at JD's awed face, but he had to agree that 'wow' was probably the best comment. It was certainly an impressive sight. The pine tree standing in the far corner dominated the entire room, its tip almost touching the ceiling. Every branch was decorated with brightly coloured ribbons and small china baubles and strings of nuts and chrystallised fruit were hung all around it.

"Look at all the presents!" Billy could hardly contain himself. "There's even some for me!"

"Which you will not be opening until tomorrow morning, young man!" Mary stated firmly.

"Aw ma!"

Chris laughed and ruffled the blond hair. "I'm sure you can wait a few more hours," he told the disappointed boy. "They ain't gonna go anywhere."

Buck had been watching Chris anxiously. His had been the main voice of persuasion regarding the Christmas invitation and he was hoping that he had not made a mistake, but he was pleased to see that the gunslinger appeared quite relaxed. Then his gaze was drawn to the sofa in front of the fire and his smile broadened when he saw the trim figure of Constance Bartlett sitting there. Running his fingers through his hair and brushing some of the dust from his jacket Buck stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Why Miss Bartlett, you're looking particularly lovely this evening."

Constance looked up over the rim of her spectacles and raised one eyebrow as though she were confused. "Thank you... Mr Wilmington, isn't it?"

"I'd be happier if you called me Buck," the ladies man told her, his voice soft and low.

"I hardly think that would be proper, Mr Wilmington. I barely know you."

"Then maybe we ought to take steps to remedy that." Without waiting for an invitation Buck settled himself beside her on the small sofa, smiling as the woman shifted a little further away.

"Look! I'm making declarations!"

Buck felt a sudden sharp tug on his pants leg and he glanced down to see the Richardson's two children industriously constructing paper chains.

"You mean 'decorations', Emily." Edward waved a brushful of flour and water paste at his sister as he did his best big brother act. "And you're doing it all wrong!"

"Am not!" Emily told him defiantly, liberally spreading paste across her piece of paper and the hearth rug.

"Perhaps Mr Wilmington can help you, my dear." Constance flung the gauntlet in Buck's direction, and his smile wavered a bit as an eager young face looked up at him. This was not exactly the kind of evening he had had in mind.

Across the room JD watched as Buck made his move on Constance, and he shook his head in amusement.

"He just never gives up, does he?"

"Mr Wilmington does so love a challenge," Ezra said as he accepted a glass of brandy from the tray that Roberts offered around.

"That might be, but I think he may have met his match." Josiah took a sip of his large whiskey but his eyes twinkled with amusement as he gestured towards the sofa, and JD could not hold back the laugh. Buck had a long strip of paper chain stuck to either side of his moustache, and Emily Richardson was carefully pasting another piece to his forehead.

"My, my. He certainly does have a way with the ladies!" Ezra raised his glass in silent salute to his long-suffering friend.

Over by the window Nathan and James were engrossed in an animated conversation about antiseptics, so it was Chris who spotted Vin first. The gunslinger was standing in the middle of the room talking with Mary, Ben, and Amelia, but they had their backs to the double doors and did not see the tracker as he hesitated at the bottom of the stairs in the hall outside. Chris could see the uncertainty on his friend's face; the volume of noise within the drawing room had steadily increased and he knew instinctively that Vin was about to turn and retreat back upstairs.

"Excuse me." The gunslinger interupted Ben mid-sentence. "I'll be back in a moment."

It was fully dark when Vin awoke and even through the closed door he could hear the faint murmur of voices downstairs. He had been looking forward to seeing all his friends again and he was glad that James had insisted that he get some rest before they arrived. The tracker was still surprised how quickly he tired but at the moment he felt quite refreshed.

Swinging his legs off the bed he reached down carefully to pull his boots on, pausing momentarily as the healing scar gave a faint twinge. He still had to be a little cautious about how he moved but on the whole he was having no trouble. Climbing to his feet he left the room making his way to the top of the stairs, but a sudden burst of laughter from below made him hesitate. Vin was naturally shy, and even though he knew all the people who were assembled in the drawing room he was still apprehensive about being amongst such a large crowd.

Taking a deep breath the young Texan forced his legs to move, coming down slowly until he reached the last but one step. The doors to the drawing room were open and he could see Chris Larabee standing inside talking to Ben, Amelia, and Mary Travis. For a brief moment he considered going back upstairs to the quiet haven of his room but then the gunslinger suddenly looked in his direction and he waited, knowing what Chris' next move would be. He was not disappointed.

He saw Chris move away from the others, a smile on his face as he stepped out into the hallway, stopping at the foot of the stairs and resting his hand casually on the balustrade.

"Hey, pard. Glad to see you finally up and about."

"Figgered it was about time. Reckon I'd bin lyin' around long enough." The tracker returned the smile and then looked past Chris at the crowded drawing room. "Surprised to see ya here, cowboy. Didn't reckon this was yer kinda thing."

"Ain't yours either," the gunslinger returned. "Looked you were gonna turn and bolt a minute ago."

"Thought about it," Vin admitted with a wry smile. "Ain't used t'these fancy occasions."

"Then I guess we'll both have to grin and bear it. We ain't gotta lot of choice." Chris could understand his friend's reluctance; apart from himself and Nathan, it had been almost three weeks since the others had seen him and he was going to be the centre of attention, no matter how hard he tried to blend into the background. It was a situation that Vin would not be at all comfortable with.

Before the tracker could say anything else Charles Roberts came along the corridor from the kitchen carrying two large pitchers. Behind him, Annie held a tray of small earthenware goblets, and they paused beside the two Americans.

"I trust you are well rested, Vin? Are you gentlemen going to join the rest of the party for a Christmas toast?"

Vin grinned at the butler and his wife. Over the past few weeks he had got to know them very well, in particular Annie Roberts who seemed to have taken him completely under her wing. The tracker eyed the jugs curiously, his sensitive nose detecting the smell of wine combined with some aromatic spices.

"What'cha got there?" he asked, forgetting his shyness for a moment.

"It's mulled wine." Seeing the puzzled expression on both of their faces the Englishman went on to explain. "It's a traditional Christmas drink in Great Britain. Red wine flavoured with cloves and cinnamon and other spices, and heated through with a red hot poker." To their surprise Roberts gave a knowing wink. "Very warming."

"Sounds kinda interesting." Chris gave a broad grin and looked expectantly at Vin. "Care to join me?"

"Guess so."

The two men waited until Roberts and his wife had entered the drawing room, distracting nearly everybody as Ben Richardson announced the arrival of the mulled wine. However, Mary had been observing Chris as he spoke with Vin, a smile on her lips as the two friends followed the butler and the housekeeper into the room.

"Vin, how are you?" There was no disguising her delight as she regarded the tracker. Although she had been told that he was on the mend she was amazed at how well he actually looked. His hair was clean and neatly combed and the crisp white shirt - one of James' best - disguised his still pale complexion. However, the sparkle in his blue eyes was undiminished as he glanced nervously around the room.

"Better, thank you, Mary."

"We've all missed having you around town." The woman looked pointedly at Chris but the gunslinger made no comment.

"Hey, Vin! Good to see ya!" JD's exuberant greeting caused every head to turn in the tracker's direction. Vin felt a touch overwhelmed at the sudden attention but he was relieved that only JD and Ezra had come across to talk to him. The gambler handed a goblet of the mulled wine to Mary and then held another out to Vin.

"I'm not sure that you should be having this in your convalesent state," he remarked with a smile. "But it is the festive season after all." Vin accepted the goblet and took a sip of the warm, heady wine.

"So where's mine?" Chris demanded indignantly.

"I would like to point out, Mr Larabee, that I only have one pair of hands."

"Sure don't look that way when you're dealing the cards, Ezra," Chris stated lightheartedly, and everybody laughed.

Vin could feel himself starting to relax a bit. This was not turning into the ordeal that he had been imagining all day, but he was glad that he had had the chance to speak to Chris first. As he took another sip of the warm, aromatic wine he found himself laughing as he caught the tail-end of one of JD's jokes and he realised just how much he had missed this easy companionship between the seven of them. Maybe he would enjoy the next few days after all.

By the time Roberts announced that the supper buffet was ready Vin had had the opportunity to speak to each of his friends. Only JD had brought up the subject of Will Tanner, admitedly out of Chris' earshot, and he had expressed surprise at the man's absence. Vin could not hide his disappointment as he explained that although Ben had invited the other Texan he had declined. However, Will had promised to join them for dinner on Christmas day.

As everybody followed their hosts through to the dining room, Amelia's careful planning was once more in evidence. The large table was already set for tomorrow's breakfast but tonight's buffet was laid out on the sideboard against the end wall. A whole ham took pride of place in the centre, honey-glazed and studded with cracked peppercorns with a large joint of beef beside it.

As Roberts carved off more of the ham and beef the guests helped themselves to the various savoury tartlets and pastries and the fillets of smoked trout. The conversation died away as people sat around the room, enjoying the festive fare. Buck had found an empty chair beside Constance, and was still persisting in his attempts to flatter and talk to her.

"It's a real fine spread the Richardson's have put on," Josiah said as he sat down next to Vin, carefully balancing his filled plate.

"A veritable feast," Ezra agreed, standing in front of his two friends. "Although you appear to be eating quite frugally, my friend." He made the observation as he looked down at the tracker's half empty plate.

"I ain't that hungry. Reckon I've been gettin' too much of this fine food lately." The Texan grinned, recalling Mrs Roberts efforts to tempt him with all manner of delicacies as he recovered from the operation. "If I stay here much longer I'll get as fat as an ox!" Ezra and Josiah laughed, hardly able to imagine an extra ounce of fat on the lean tracker.

"So when d'you think you'll be back?" the ex-preacher asked, and Vin shrugged.

"I was kinda hoping to come back wit' you guys after the holiday. 'Course, that's if James'll let me. He fusses worse'n Nathan!"

"Surely that is impossible!" Ezra exclaimed, knowing the healer's tendancy to act like a mother hen at times.

"Nope. Ya shoulda heard him when he caught me exercising Peso!" That was a few days ago and it was the first time Vin had seen James Owen angry even though he had only been riding the black gelding around the corral. The tracker had just wanted to find out if he could do it but he had not let the Englishman see how much it had taken out of him.

"Maybe he thought you were trying to rush things." Josiah raised an eyebrow as he glanced sideways at the young tracker. He knew how much Vin hated being cooped up too long in one place and he guessed that he was starting to feel restless.

Vin did not answer; whilst he was grateful to the Richardson's and James for his care, all he really wanted to do was get back to town.

With supper over Amelia decided that it was time for the children to go to bed, much to their dismay. Billy was hoping that he would be allowed to stay up longer but Mary made it quite clear that he was not going to be treated any differently.

Once the three woman had taken the children out the men adjourned once more to the drawing room and Ben offered round the port, brandy, and cigars. Both JD and Vin declined the latter, and James warned the tracker away from both strong liquors, allowing him instead another small goblet of mulled wine.

Vin was not particularly bothered. He was feeling extremely tired and as he sank down onto the sofa before the roaring fire he wondered how much longer he would be able to keep his eyes open. Leaning back with a contented sigh he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the voices of his friends drift over his head.

"Vin? Are you alright?"

The tracker startled awake as a hand touched his arm lightly and he glanced round in surprise at Mary as she sat beside him. He had not even been aware that he had fallen asleep. Sitting up a little straighter he gave her a faint smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look really tired." Once she had tucked Billy into bed Mary had come back down whilst Amelia and Constance bathed Emily and Edward. She had been looking for a chance to speak to Vin on his own all evening and when she had spotted him sitting by himself in front of the fire she had thought that would be the ideal opportunity. However, she had not expected him to be asleep nor to look so exhausted and she had been a little concerned.

"Must be this wine," Vin lied stoicly, eyeing the barely touched goblet on the table beside him. "So - is Billy abed?"

"Yes. He's had a pretty busy day." Mary smiled softly, staring into the flickering flames. "I remember how excited I used to get when I was his age. It always felt as though Christmas morning would never come."

"Don't remember much about Christmas when I was a little fella," Vin said wistfully. "Didn't have much call for it when I was older, neither."

Mary turned and looked at him hearing the sadness in his voice, and she just wanted to reach out and hug him, to comfort him like she would Billy.

"It must feel very strange to suddenly discover you have a father," she went on.

"Yes, ma'am. It is," he said quietly and a shy smile lit up his face. He still could hardly believe it himself but over the past few weeks he had spent many hours talking to his father and getting to know him. At times he had felt like a starving man, hungrily devouring every morsel of information that Will Tanner offered him. "But it feels pretty good, too."

"I'm really pleased for you, Vin." Mary could see the happiness on his face as he spoke, and she placed her hand over his and squeezed gently. A sudden shadow flickered across the tracker's face and he found himself looking towards the christmas tree where Chris was talking with Ben and James.

"I jus' wish everybody felt the same way," he said softly and Mary followed his gaze but she did not need to ask who he was referring to.

"You've got to give him time. It's probably just as hard for him as it is for you."

"I don't think time's gonna make a whole heap of difference. I cain't understand why he's so dead set against him."

"He's afraid, Vin. Afraid that it's going to change things between you."

"That ain't gonna happen," the Texan stated vehemently, but Mary knew that it already had.

"So what does your father intend to do?" Mary decided it would be best to change the subject slightly. "Is he staying on here, or will he be living in town?"

"I dunno." Vin blinked in surprise. He had not given the future much thought; he was simply content with the present. "We ain't really talked about that. I guess he'll stay on with Ben for a while."

"I hope so. At least you'll be able to see him quite often." Mary fell silent for a moment, wondering exactly what the future did hold for Vin and his father. The Richardson's seemed quite settled now and she hoped that Will Tanner would stay with them. She could not begin to imagine how Chris would react if the man left and Vin went with him. "Maybe you can - " She stopped as Vin gave a huge yawn and he flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry, Mary," he apologised with a sheepish grin. "Guess I must be more tired than I thought."

"Then maybe it's time ya got some rest. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow."

Vin glanced around guiltily as Nathan spoke. The healer had been observing him for a while, watching as he dozed on the sofa and he had been on the verge of waking him up before Mary came in and spoke to him.

"Reckon yer right," Vin agreed as he pushed himself to his feet and he was grateful for Nathan's steadying hand under his elbow as the room suddenly lurched.

"Y'alright? D'ya need a hand?" the healer asked as Vin scrubbed wearily at his eyes.

"No, I'll be alright. G'night, Mary." As the tracker started to leave, he could feel someone watching him and he glanced round to meet Chris' concerned hazel gaze. The gunslinger's eyebrows were raised in question.

You alright?

Yeah, cowboy. See ya in the morning.

Vin gave a lopsided grin as he left. He was so tired that climbing the stairs was an effort but he had enjoyed the evening. When he reached his room he had to smile. Annie Roberts had obviously been busy. A lamp burned on the bedside table and the fire had been banked up in the grate, taking the chill off the room. The sheets had been turned down and there was a jug of home-made lemonade on the side with a glass next to it.

Dropping onto the edge of the bed Vin drew his boots off and poured himself a glass of the refreshing drink. He took a couple of sips and then flopped back against the pillows, closing his eyes with a weary sigh. Suddenly a soft tapping on the door disturbed him as he started to drift off and he cursed under his breath. Forcing his tired body up he padded across the floor and pulled the door open.

"Not disturbing ya, am I?"

"No. Come on in." Vin smiled as Will Tanner stepped into the room.

"I ain't gonna stay long, but I just wanted to see ya before ya turned in."

"I was kinda hopin' ya'd a-been by earlier." The tracker's tone was slightly admonishing but Tanner just shook his head.

"Figgered ya'd want to spend some time wit' yer friends. I know ya ain't seen 'em fer a while. Besides, we'll have plenty o'time to talk tomorrow." Will smiled and clasped the younger man's shoulder. "It's the first time in many a long year that I've looked forward to Christmas day."

Vin did not know how to answer that but his smile said it all even though he was a little concerned.about his father and Chris sitting down at the same table.

"I know you and Chris don't see eye to eye but... "

"Don't ya worry, son," Will said placatingly. "I can understand how yer friend feels. Hell, I'd probably feel the same. But I ain't about to cause a fuss."

Vin smiled gratefully and gave a relieved sigh but the sigh turned into another yawn and Tanner laughed out loud.

"Looks like I'm keeping ya up, boy. Why don't ya get some sleep? I'll see ya tomorrow. Merry Christmas, son."

Will left without waiting for a reply and Vin turned out the lamp as he slipped out of his shirt and pants and climbed into bed. For a while he lay in the darkness, listening to the muted voices downstairs and content just to let the peace of the season steal over him.

"Merry Christmas, pa," he whispered and he closed his eyes, a faint smile curving his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

+ + + + + + +

Christmas Day dawned cold and bright as Josiah Sanchez came from the bunkhouse and paused for a moment to breathe in the crisp morning air. Apart from Nathan and JD his fellow peacekeepers were still sleeping soundly. It was a well known fact that Ezra did not rise early but it had been a late night for all of them and the alcohol had flowed freely thanks to the generosity of the Richardsons. Buck was snoring fit to wake the dead whilst Ezra seemed to be cocooned in a tangle of blankets and Chris had simply collapsed fully clothed and face down on his bunk without a care in the world. Will Tanner had also spent the night in the bunkhouse but he had risen and was gone even before Josiah was up. The ex-preacher smiled to himself. There was going to be more than one sore head when the others finally awoke.

As he wandered across to the main house he was deep in thought. The previous night Ben Richardson had asked him to conduct a simple service in the parlour to celebrate Christmas and he was trying to find the right words to suit everybody. Stepping onto the porch he was surprised when the front door was suddenly opened and Mary Travis stepped out, a shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders against the chill.

"Good morning, Josiah," she greeted. "Merry Christmas to you."

"Morning, Mary. I didn't expect to see you up so early."

The woman laughed. "I didn't have much choice. You know how children are. Billy's been awake for an hour or more and he refused to go back to bed."

"So where is he now?"

"He's probably sitting by the tree with Emily and Edward, but I told him he couldn't have any presents until he was washed and dressed and had his breakfast!"

"That sounds like a fine idea - especially breakfast." Josiah was a man who enjoyed his food, and he grinned. "I don't think the Lord would want me to celebrate this day of all days on an empty stomach. Will you be attending the service?"

"Of course. Both Billy and I will be there." She glanced across at the bunkhouse. "Will any of the others be joining us?"

"Well, Nathan and JD are up so I reckon they'll be there. As for the others... I think it's safe to say they've had more than their fair share of Christmas spirit already!" They both laughed, knowing just how much alcohol had been consumed the previous evening.

"I know what you mean," Mary said. "When I saw Doctor Owen a little while ago he definitely looked a little the worse for wear!" Josiah smiled and offered Mary his arm.

"Shall we go in out of the cold? I'm sure breakfast must be nearly ready."

After the family and those guests who were up and about had breakfasted, they moved through to the small parlour next to the dining room for the simple service. Roberts had arranged the chairs into three neat rows, and as Amelia sat down at the front with the two children between her and Ben she could not help comparing it to the last Christmas they had spent in England. If they had still been in Liverpool they would have been attending the local church about now, but this felt more personal.

Glancing round she smiled as Mary, Billy, and Constance Bartlett sat down behind them, and beyond them she could see JD and Nathan and a rather sorry-looking James. Everybody else was conspicuous by their absence.

"I'd like to start with a reading from Matthew, Chapter 2, Verse 11." All eyes turned to Josiah as he stood before them, his bible in his hand. "'And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.'" Closing his bible Josiah looked at the small congregation. "On this special day we celebrate the birth of our Lord, and remember the gifts given to Him by the wise men by giving and receiving ourselves."

At the same time that Josiah was starting his sermon downstairs Vin had just got out of bed. Crossing over to the washstand he poured some lukewarm water into the basin and scrubbed his face thoroughly. Pulling on his pants, boots, and a clean blue shirt he made his way downstairs in search of breakfast.

The smell of cooking seemed to fill the house and his stomach grumbled in anticipation. So much had happened the previous night that he been unable to appreciate the supper provided by the Richardsons, and this morning he was hungry. When he entered the dining room he was surprised to find it deserted except for one of the young serving girls who was busy making sure the table was perfect for dinner.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted cheerfully, folding napkins and placing them into wine glasses. "I'm afraid you've missed breakfast."

"What time is it, Jane? Where is everybody?"

"It's a little after ten, sir, and Mr Sanchez is conducting a service in the parlour."

"Oh." Vin was disappointed. He could not believe that he had slept so late. He was usually an early riser but the excitement of last night must have tired him more than he realised.

"I'll tell Mrs Roberts you're up," Jane told him. "I'm sure she'll be able to fix something for you."

"Thanks."

Once the girl had left Vin went over to the door leading through to the parlour and pushed it carefully open, slipping inside and standing at the back. Only Josiah saw him; everybody else had their heads bowed as they recited the Lord's Prayer.

"Amen."

"Christmas is a time for sharing with those we love," Josiah intoned. "It is also a time for peace and understanding, no matter how difficult that might be at times." The ex-preacher looked directly at Vin as he said that. "There is no greater gift in this world than that of family or friend."

The words hit home and Vin knew they were directed at him when he saw the half-smile on Josiah's face. He gave a tight nod in return but deep down inside he wished that Chris had been in the room to hear them as well. It was a thoughtful tracker who crept out of the room in search of breakfast.

"Have some more bacon, Vin."

Annie Roberts pushed the dish across the table and Vin helped himself to several more slices of the crispy, fried ham that the housekeeper called bacon. Over the past few weeks he had aquired a real liking for this unusual way of cooking ham and it went very well with the lightly scrambled eggs.

"Ya know summat, Annie? I'm really gonna miss ya cookin' when I go back to town."

"Well you're not going to stay away, are you? You know you'll always be welcome here."

"Know that," the young Texan agreed. "Besides, my pa'll still be working for Ben, so I'll always be back t'see 'im."

Annie smiled as she turned back to the pile of vegetables that needed to be prepared. She had grown quite fond of this quiet, shy young American and she was going to miss having him about the place. Vin popped another piece of the crispy bacon into his mouth and then looked up as the kitchen door opened and he had to grin at the sight of a bleary eyed Chris Larabee as he dropped into a chair with a groan. The gunslinger's clothes were creased and rumpled and it was obvious he had slept in them.

"Merry Christmas, cowboy. Good night was it?"

Chris winced, lowering his head into his hands. Vin was too loud, too cheerful, and too damn bright for him to cope with this morning.

"What I can remember of it," he mumbled.

"Good morning, Mr Larabee." Annie Roberts recognised all the signs of a king-sized hangover and she smiled. "Would you like some coffee? Breakfast?"

"Just coffee, ma'am." Chris did not think that his queasy stomach would be able to deal with anything else at the moment.

"Ya wanna try some o'this, Chris." Vin waved a forkful of bacon under the gunslinger's nose, a wicked smile on his face. "It's really good ya know."

"You really wanna get shot, Tanner?" Chris looked up and glared at his friend as Vin crammed the bacon into his mouth with a smug grin. "You carry on like that an' Peso's gonna wonder where all the extra weight's come from!"

"Ya sayin' I'm getting fat, cowboy?" Vin looked down at his middle in mock indignation.

Annie Roberts smiled as she placed the cup of coffee down in front of Chris Larabee. It was the first time she had witnessed their affectionate banter and the friendship between these two men was plain for all to see.

"He needs feeding up after all he's been through," the woman stated, and Chris rolled his eyes in disbelief. It looked as though Vin had made yet another conquest. The tracker just smiled and then they all heard the sudden delighted shrieks of children from the front of the house. "Sounds like the little ones have been given their presents," Annie observed and Chris stared down into his coffee cup, remembering past Christmas mornings with Sarah and Adam.

Vin saw the shadow that passed across his friend's face and he knew what he was thinking about, and the words of Josiah's sermon suddenly came back to him. 'Christmas is a time for sharing with those we love'. It was strange how their two lives had turned. In a sense it was the first Christmas that the gunslinger had celebrated in a family atmosohere since he had lost his own, and for Vin it was the first time he could really remember experiencing it with family. For a brief moment the young Texan felt a little guilty; he was starting to enjoy himself whereas for Chris the season would always be tinged with sadness.

"Ah, an island of tranquility away from the cacophony of over-exuberant children!"

Ezra Standish elbowed his way into the kitchen, his hands covering his ears in an exagerated display of discomfort.

"Too noisy for ya, Ezra?" Vin asked with a guileless smile. He guessed that the gambler too had made free with the brandy the night before.

"I believe that is what I just infered, Mr Tanner," the Southerner replied, taking the empty seat beside Chris.

"What's the matter, Ezra? I thought you liked kids?" the gunslinger commented with a grin.

"Not when three sound like a hundred and three!" he stated emphatically, gratefully accepting the coffee that Annie Roberts handed to him and he gave her a charming smile. "Dear lady, you are a lifesaver!"

The housekeeper turned back to her work, happy to let the three friends sit and talk for a while. However, much as she enjoyed having the attractive young Americans in her kitchen she knew they would prove to be too much of a distraction for herself and the two girls and they did have a lot to do before dinner would be ready. In the end she had no alternative but to shoo them out.

As she turned back to the range and basted the turkey once more, Annie Roberts could not help thinking that this was going to be a very different Christmas for all of them, but different in a pleasant way.

Christmas dinner was served promptly at two o'clock.

Once again Amelia's thoughtfulness showed in the careful way she had arranged the placement of people around the large oak table. She had ensured that Vin was seated next to his father, with Chris directly opposite the tracker out of Tanner's direct line of sight. Buck was next to the gunslinger and in a moment of romantic inspiration she had contrived to place Constance Bartlett beside the ladies man! She was aware that Buck found the governess attractive and intriguing and she was not averse to helping the situation along.

As everybody filed into the dining room and were shown to their places by Roberts it was Josiah who stopped and looked Chris up and down.

"My, my, Chris. You do look dashing!"

Everybody was dressed in their best for the occasion, but the gunslinger had swapped his usual dark sartorial hue in favour of a crisp white shirt that was tucked into his black pants.

"'Elegant' is the word I would use, Mr Larabee."

Mary turned as Ezra spoke and she had to agree that Chris had never looked more handsome. His dark blond hair was freshly washed and neatly combed and a faint smile curved his lips as he regarded his fellow peacekeepers.

"Thank you, gentleman," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he sat down opposite the tracker noticing that even he appeared to have made more of an effort than usual. The blue shirt complimented his eyes perfectly, and he was extremely clean-shaven which made him look even younger than he was.

As the first course of freshly made vegetable soup was served, the conversation around the table remained light, mainly focussing on the three children and the presents they had received that morning.

Ezra was only half-listening to the various conversations going on around him, answering politely when he was spoken too, but for the most part he found himself in the unusual role of observer as he watched Chris and Will Tanner. He was intrigued how two men sitting across the table from each other and mainly talking to the same person could so blatantly ignore the others presence. The Southerner came to the conclusion that it was the only way they could deal with the difficult situation. Not even the wine that flowed copiously could unbend them.

The food was excellent; huge dishes of crisp, roasted potatoes, glazed carrots, peas, and winter greens were brought from the kitchen once the soup was finished, and there were various sauces and chestnut stuffing all cooked to perfection by Annie Roberts and her assistants. However, by the time Ben had carved the turkey and the beef for the main course, Vin was beginning to feel as though he were caught between a rock and a hard place. He was feeling a little uncomfortable trying to talk to both Chris and his father, whilst they studiously ignored each other.

The young tracker was heartily relieved when Roberts finally brought in the dessert, an enormous plum pudding which he placed on the table in front of Ben. Lighting a taper from one of the candles the butler touched it to the brandy-soaked pudding, and the whole thing burned brightly, but briefly, with a clear blue flame. There were squeals of awe and delight from the children and even Vin was impressed, the blazing dessert a welcome distraction from his careful balancing act.

The plum pudding was served with delicious brandy butter, and by the time it had been consumed everybody was thoroughly replete. When Amelia announced that Roberts was serving the coffee and brandy in the drawing room, there was a collective sigh of relief from the satisfied guests.

It was almost four o'clock now and the sky was beginning to darken outside but the drawing room was cosy and warm. Lamps and candles illuminated every corner, and a fire blazed cheerfully in the hearth as people took either a cup of coffee or a glass of brandy and found themselves somewhere to sit and relax after the enormous dinner. While the adults passed the time in idle conversation the three children were sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, playing with some of the toys they had opened that morning but after a while they began to get restless. The peace of the afternoon was finally broken when Emily decided she wanted the brightly painted wooden locomotive that Billy had received from his mother. Naturally the boy would not give it up, and Emily grabbed hold of it pulling hard. Eventually Billy let go and the little girl tumbled over backwards, and her wails of distress made everybody turn and look.

"It wasn't my fault, Ma," Billy said quickly, thinking he was about to get the blame as Amelia picked her daughter up.

"You didn't push her, did you?" Mary asked, but it was Constance Bartlett who replied.

"No, he didn't, Mrs Travis. I'm afraid Emily got a little over-zealous and wanted something she couldn't have."

Ben stepped over to where his wife sat on the sofa, Emily on her lap, and he ruffled the child's hair affectionately.

"That sounds like my little girl," he stated with a laugh. "Strong-willed just like her mother." Amelia looked up at that and gave her husband a fond smile. "How about some more presents?" the man continued, and Emily's tears were suddenly forgotten as she looked up at her father in excitement. "I won't be a moment."

Mary followed Ben from the room. She had a special present for Billy, one which she had held back once Amelia had told her that they always saved the children one gift for after dinner. Meanwhile, Emily had wriggled from her mother's lap and with all the guile of a female she had sat back beside Billy as though nothing had happened.

Mary was the first one back into the room, a brown paper wrapped parcel in her arms and she held the door open as Ben and Roberts struggled through, each carrying a large box. Ben placed his on the floor in front of Emily and then relieved the butler of his, setting it down before Edward.

"Merry Christmas, my darlings," Amelia said as Emily shrieked and began pulling at the flaps on the carton.

"Billy." Mary called her son over and he sat down beside her on the sofa. "This is from your Grandma and Grandpa. They're sorry they couldn't be with you for Christmas." She watched as Billy tore the paper off. The present had arrived just over a week ago on one of the regular stage runs along with one for herself, and she had kept it hidden until now.

"Look!" Billy let the paper slide to the floor as he held up the three beautifully bound books.

"What've you got there, son?" Josiah bent down as the boy leafed through the first book.

"They're from Grandma and Grandpa Travis. This one's got pictures of animals in it, but I don't know what they all are."

"Well, that's an elephant," Josiah said, pointing to one of the illustrations. "And that's a lion. He's called the King of the Beasts."

"What are the other books, Billy?" Mary was curious to know what else her in-laws had sent him. One turned out to be a volume of short stories complete with pictures, and the other was, quite appropriately, a Bible.

"Looks like you've got the start of a real fine library there," Josiah said approvingly. Billy smiled shyly up at him, but then his attention was drawn by Edward's excited shout as he finally pulled his present from the box. Carefully placing the books on the seat Billy hurried over to see what his new friend had.

"Ah, the fickleness of youth." Josiah gave Mary a wide grin as she scooped up the discarded books. "Not even the good Lord can compete with a fort and a whole regiment of toy soldiers!"

Edward may have extricated his fort from its box but Emily's small hands were having trouble with her gift and she was getting more frustrated by the second.

"Allow me, my dear." The child looked up at the softly spoken comment and found herself staring into a pair of intense green eyes. Ezra reached into the box and lifted the object out, setting it down carefully in front of Emily. "My, my. What have we here?"

"It's a house!" Emily squealed in delight, wondering how he could ask such a silly question.

"Of course it is. But what a house!" The gambler kneeled down beside the child and they studied the various rooms of the three storey house between them. It was Ezra who discovered the cleverly concealed catch which lifted up to allow the entire front of the house to open. "Well, now we can see what's inside."

As the Southerner named each room and the pieces of tiny furniture within it, Emily stared at him, more in awe of this man who seemed so knowledgeable than she was of the house itself. Ezra was so caught up in his descriptions that he was unaware that he was the subject of such serious scrutiny from the child's blue eyes until she slowly crept onto his lap. He blinked in sudden surprise but made no attempt to move her, and another unlikely friendship was formed.

Billy and Edward were far too engrossed in the fort to take notice of what anyone else was doing with the exception of JD, who was on his hands and knees helping the boys to arrange the soldiers into neat rows.

"This is great!" Billy enthused as he stuck the little flag pole, complete with flag, on the front rampart of the building. "Chris, come and see this!" The boy looked up, searching the room for the man in question, but the gunslinger was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Chris gone?" he asked, turning a puzzled face to JD. The young peacekeeper glanced around the room; Vin, Nathan, and Will Tanner were talking over by the window whilst Buck shared a joke with James and Ben, but Chris was definitely not there.

"I have no idea." He realised that with the present giving he had not noticed that Chris had slipped out, and apparently neither had anybody else. JD looked over at Vin once again, seeing the tracker smile in response to something his father had just said, and the young man wondered whether that was the reason for the gunslinger's unexplained absence. "I'm sure he'll be back in a little while," JD assured Billy. "Now show me again where this soldier goes," he added, trying to distract the boy from his disappointment. It worked for a while until Chris suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Billy."

It was softly spoken but the boy's head shot up as he heard his name, scrambling to his feet as the gunslinger beckoned him over.

Chris watched as the boy came across the room towards him and he saw Mary look round curiously to see where her son was going. As the youngster stopped in front of him the gunslinger reached down and picked up a large hessian wrapped package and held it out.

"Happy Christmas, Billy."

Billy instinctively took the parcel, a stunned expression on his face as he looked up at Chris.

"For me? What is it?"

The gunslinger smiled, his face alight with pleasure at the boy's surprise. "Open it an' see," he prompted. Billy duly sat down right in the doorway and proceeded to unwrap the gift.

"It's a boat!" he exclaimed as the sacking fell away. Jumping to his feet the young boy picked up his present and ran over to his mother. "Look, Ma! Look what Chris's got me! It's a boat." Billy squeezed in between his mother and Josiah, resting the carefully crafted vessel on his knees.

"That's not just any boat, son," Josiah said. "That's Noah's Ark."

"Noah?" Billy sounded puzzled as he looked around at his mother.

"Yes, you remember, Billy. It's in the Bible. Noah built an ark to save all the animals from the flood."

"Let's take a look inside." Josiah reached out and lifted the roof off of the ark to reveal a number of intricately carved animals. The ex-preacher had been the only one of the peacekeepers who had known Chris' secret. The gunslinger had started carving the animals whilst he had been making a slow recovery from his near-fatal illness less than four months ago. It had started as a means to while away the hours during his long convalescence, but it had turned into a major project and with Josiah's help he had managed to finish it just in time for Christmas.

Mary watched as Billy took some of the animals out and studied them closely and then she became aware that Chris was standing beside the sofa looking a touch uncomfortable.

"I wasn't sure if Billy was too old for something like that," the gunslinger said uncertainly, looking down as the boy turned the animals over in his hand.

"Oh, Chris, it's beautiful." Mary could feel herself getting a little choked up. She knew how much Billy idolised the gunslinger but she had not been aware just how fond Chris was of her son. The Ark was a labour of love and she knew Billy would treasure it because it came from Chris. Climbing to her feet she touched Chris lightly on the arm. "Thank you," she said and then surprised both herself and the gunslinger by kissing him quickly on the cheek. Chris smiled, his hazel eyes unreadable and Mary turned away flustered as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Billy, have you thanked Chris for the wonderful present?" she said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Josiah took the ark as Billy clambered down, and Chris squatted down as the boy rushed forward and flung his arms around his neck.

"Thanks Chris."

The gunslinger blinked furiously as he hesitantly returned the hug. It had been a long time since he had felt like this at Christmas, and the touch of a child's arms around his neck brought back bitter-sweet memories. His emotions were very close to the surface.as he briefly closed his eyes and he could only manage a mumbled reply.

"You're very welcome, Billy."

Like JD, Buck had not realised that Chris had disappeared but he was certainly aware when he returned. He had seen Billy Travis run across the room clutching something in his arms and heard the child's excited voice as he told his mother of the gift. That caught and held Buck's attention and he took a step forward to get a clearer look.

"Sonofabitch!" he breathed as he recognised the object in Billy's hands. "So that's what he was doing," he murmured almost to himself, and he swallowed hard. The only other time Buck had seen an ark made by Chris was at the last Christmas the gunslinger had had with his family. He had made one just like that for his own son and the ladies man could still recall Adam's delight at the tiny wooden animals. Buck watched as Mary got up and kissed Chris briefly on the cheek and then he saw the poignant look on his friend's face as Billy threw himself into his arms, and he sighed. Could this be the start of the healing process for the gunslinger? Was he finally coming to terms with the death of his family? Buck could only hope.

"Buck? Are you alright?" Ben Richardson's question snapped him back to the present, and he looked at the two Englishman.

"Yeah, I'm fine. At least now I know what he was making all the time he was recovering." The other two men looked confused but it was James who asked the question.

"Recovering? Recovering from what?"

Buck went on to explain how the gunslinger had contracted a pneumonia-like illness that had almost claimed his life and how the combined efforts of Vin and Nathan had saved him. James listened with great interest, and he made a mental note to seek out Nathan and ask the healer for more details.

"Ben?" Amelia suddenly appeared at her husband's elbow. "I think it's about time." Ben looked at her and smiled in agreement.

"If you'll excuse us for a moment," he said to Buck and James as he followed his wife back across the room and opened the door of the large sideboard. He pulled out a number of packages and several envelopes which he placed on the top of the unit and then he cleared his throat.

"Ladies, gentleman," he called, pausing until the room fell silent and he had everyones attention. "I'd like to say, on behalf of all the family, how much we've enjoyed our first Christmas in this new land. We were unsure of the kind of reception we would receive, but you've all made us feel very welcome. Now I know you probably weren't expecting this, but Amelia and I have some gifts to give out as a token of our gratitude for all you've done."

There were murmurs of surprise from the assembled guests as Amelia picked up the first package and walked over to Mary.

"This is for you," she said, placing it in the newspaperwoman's hands. "My first friend since I arrived."

Mary blushed and stammered out her thanks as Ben called JD over and gave him a small flat package. Josiah was next, and he received one of the sealed envelopes.

"Josiah, this isn't strictly for you but we thought you might find it useful for the church." The ex-preacher opened the envelope in curiosity, and he shook his head in amazement when he saw five crisp ten dollar bills inside.

"This is indeed a generous gift, my friend. I'll use it wisely."

"Buck, Ezra, I've noticed you take great care in your appearance. We thought these might be appropriate." Amelia handed Ezra a small box which he carefully opened, his jaw dropping when he saw the mother-of-pearl inlaid cufflinks nestling on the dark blue silk.

"I am overwhelmed by your kindness, dear lady," the Southerner stated with a charming smile as he grasped Amelia's hand and kissed the back of it with a flourish.

"I couldn't have put it better myself!" Buck agreed, holding up the brightly coloured silk bandana and, not to be outdone, kissing the back of Amelia's other hand.

"Nathan, I believe James has something for you." Ben looked across at his brother-in-law, and the young man smiled as he stepped forward and picked up a large parcel about twelve inches square all round.

"I saw you admiring mine," James said as he handed it to Nathan. "So I thought you should have one of your own." The healer stood the object on the nearest table and peeled back the brown paper, lifting the lid of the wooden medical chest. A beaming smile lit up his face as his eyes took in the assortment of bottles and phials and other equipment contained within it. Turning to James, Nathan shook his head slowly.

"I couldn't possibly accept this," he breathed, but James laid his hand on the American's shoulder.

"Yes you can," he stated. "I can think of no worthier person than yourself."

As James and Nathan continued to examine the contents of the box, Ben looked first at Chris and then at Vin, noticing how reticent they appeared at the prospect of their gifts.

"You didn't think we'd forget you two, did you?" Ben was enjoying himself as Amelia brought the first present forward. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find something for you?" Richardson smiled at the gunslinger, and Chris gave a sheepish grin in return. "So we just settled on something we know you'd enjoy." Amelia handed the parcel over and then stood on tiptoe to kiss the gunslinger lightly on the cheek.

"As for you, my friend - " Ben looked at Vin, seeing the tracker shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I know the circumstances that forced you under our roof were far from pleasant for you, but we've enjoyed your company and we'll be sorry to see you leave."

"Merry Christmas, Vin," Amelia said as she gave him a flat parcel before kissing him on the cheek as well. The tracker blushed furiously, trying to ignore the snort of amusement from Chris.

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, turning the package over in his hands.

"Go on, open it," she urged. Vin looked up once at the gunslinger's bemused face before tearing off the brown paper. There was a soft white linen shirt neatly folded, but laying on top of that was a small, plain dark-wood picture frame. The tracker picked it up and looked at in confusion.

"This is real nice, but I don't have anythin' t'put in it."

"Yes ya do, son." Will Tanner stepped forward and reached into his inside pocket. "This should fit jus' fine," he continued, holding out the battered photograph of the tracker's mother and grandfather.

"But... I can't. It means too much t'ya."

"That's why I'm giving it t'ya." Tanner placed his hands on Vin's shoulders and gave him an affectionate squeeze. "Merry Christmas, son."

The young Texan glanced down at the picture and then he looked steadily at his father, blue eyes meeting those of exactly the same colour.

"I ain't got nothin' t'give ya," he said apologetically, and he was surprised when the older man simply smiled.

"I'm lookin' at my gift. That's all I need, boy."

Vin did not reply as he felt the warmth of family wrap itself around him but then he glanced up sharply and looked across when he heard the loud snort of derision from Chris Larabee. For a brief moment their eyes locked and then the gunslinger turned away in disgust, leaving Vin saddened by the knowledge that the man whose friendship he treasured above all others would never accept Will Tanner as anything but an interloper.

Mary Travis had already unwrapped her gift, a beautiful cream silk shawl trimmed with gold thread, and had been watching as the peacekeepers received their presents. However, her enjoyment of the day had been marred by Chris' adverse reaction to Will Tanner's remarks to Vin. She had been aware of the animosity between the gunslinger and Tanner even though they had managed to get through the day by fastidiously ignoring each other, but now she had witnessed it firsthand.

She watched the gunslinger stalk away, tight-lipped and stiff as he grabbed another drink and sat down on a chair in the corner by the window, and she saw the dismayed expression on Vin's face as he glanced over at Chris. For a moment she thought that the tracker might go over and talk to him, but then Tanner draped an arm around his shoulders and led him in the opposite direction and Vin did not resist. With a heavy sigh Mary got up and walked across the room, stopping in front of the brooding gunslinger.

"Chris? Do you mind if I sit down?"

Chris looked up at her and then lowered his head again. "I ain't fittin' company at the moment, ma'am."

The use of the term 'ma'am' was a clear indication of Chris' mood, but if he thought she was going to be put off he was very much mistaken. She had seen a different side of Chris when he had been playing with Billy and the other children earlier on, but now it grieved her to see him so upset. Pointedly ignoring his comment she sat down in the empty chair next to him and considered her words carefully.

"Why can't you be happy for him, Chris?" she said eventually, realising that there was no point evading the issue. "Can't you see how much it means to him? Finding his father after all these years?"

Chris' fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles went white and he tossed back the whiskey in one swift gulp before he replied.

"With all due respect, Mary, it ain't none of your business."

"Well I think it is!" The woman flushed angrily as she went on. "Whatever happens between you two is going to affect the town!"

"We're not that important. Buck and the others can handle things just as well without us." Chris did not see the look that passed across Mary's face at his words but he felt her hand on his forearm and he glanced up at her.

"Well you're both important to me. You're my friends and I'd hate to see this come between you."

The gunslinger gave a tight smile and his gaze wandered across to where Tanner was talking to Vin. "It already has," he said simply.

"It's not too late." The woman was almost pleading. "Vin's as upset about it as you are, but Will's his father."

"I'm sorry, Mary. I just can't accept that." Chris stood up and placed his glass on the window sill. "I need some air," he said and walked from the room.

Vin yawned as he spread the cards out in his hand and he glanced across at the long-case clock. It was nearly a quarter past nine and the busy day was finally catching up on him and he was wondering whether it would be considered too rude if he excused himself and went to bed.

"We keepin' ya awake, boy?" Will Tanner made the light-hearted comment as Ezra dealt another hand of poker and the young tracker gave a sheepish grin.

"Reckon I might turn in soon," he admitted as Josiah opened the betting.

The evening had passed quite quickly. A light supper had been laid out in the dining room and there was little formality, with people picking at the food as and when they wanted it. The three children had been put to bed about an hour ago, thoroughly exhausted by the excitement of the day, and the adults had finally relaxed. Amelia had taken it upon herself to teach Mary and Buck the finer points of Bridge with some help from Constance Bartlett, whilst Ezra had initiated the inevitable game of poker. Josiah and JD had expressed an interest in playing and then Vin and his father had joined in.

Chris and Ben had withdrawn to the Englishman's study taking with them the cigars and the French brandy that the gunslinger had received as a gift, and likewise Nathan and James had retreated to Owen's study to discuss medical matters and to exchange ideas.

In the drawing room the betting around the poker table was getting serious as Vin placed his cards face down in front of him.

"I fold," he said, barely stifling another yawn. He could hardly keep his eyes open now and he pushed his chair back with an apologetic smile. "If yer don't mind I'm going up now."

"Sleep well, my friend," Josiah said as he placed a few more dollars in the pot, and the other two peacekeepers nodded.

"G'night, son."

Vin dropped a hand on Tanner's shoulder in acknowledgement as he walked out. As the tracker reached the bottom of the stairs he paused and frowned, the faint smell of smoke coming to his nostrils. For a moment he thought it was simply the various fires around the house that he could smell but as he sniffed again he instinctively knew that it was something very different. Turning round he went to the front door and flung it open, stepping out onto the porch. The smell of burning was stronger now and as he looked across to his right his heart gave a sudden lurch as he saw the smoke billowing up into the night sky. He did not hesitate.

"Fire!" he yelled as he rushed back into the house. "Fire in the barn!"

Chris and Ben ran from the study at his urgent cry and as they hurried outside and saw the smoke rising from the out-building, Richardson gave a moan of despair.

"Oh my God! Not again."

By now everybody was outside but as they rushed across the yard they could see that the main barn was untouched. Instead the flames were licking up the back and over the roof of the smaller building housing the Arab stallion and they could hear the terrified screams of the horse as they snatched up the buckets from beside the trough. In a matter of moments the men had formed two chains to combat the blaze, Ben and Chris at the head of each, passing full buckets along the line with the women taking the empty pails back to the first man by the trough.

"I've got to get Prince out of there!" Ben yelled above the crackle of the flames and the loud thuds as the trapped stallion kicked out at the stall confining him. Flinging down his bucket Richardson ducked through the fence and ran up to the main doors, throwing them open.

"Ben - no!" Amelia screamed as she saw her husband disappear inside the burning building. The snapping of timbers sounded loud as the men continued to try and douse the flames but Chris was carefully watching the main doors. Suddenly, the bay stallion burst out into the corral its eyes wild and rolling as it raced blindly around the enclosure and the gunslinger breathed a sigh of relief. As he hefted the next bucket of water, Chris felt hands clutching at his arm as Amelia grabbed at him.

"Where's Ben? He hasn't come out!" The woman was frantic with worry and Chris realised that Richardson was still inside the building.

"Oh, shit!" he hissed. Thrusting the empty bucket at the Englishwoman he climbed into the corral, dodging the panic-stricken Arab as he ran forward through the open doors heedless of his own safety.

Vin was struggling now. Although he was in the centre of a chain and simply passing buckets along the strain was beginning to tell and he could feel the ache spreading through his right side. He had seen Chris rush into the barn after Ben and he was starting to get worried but he doggedly concentrated on what he was doing. Suddenly a terrifying groan and crash of timbers came from the barn and flames roared through the falling roof, leaping high into the night sky.

"Chris!"

His anguished cry was drowned out by Amelia's piercing screams and he dropped his bucket as he launched himself forward.

"Vin - no!" Nathan's yell alerted Will Tanner and he was only just quick enough to grab his son from behind, wrapping his arms around the tracker's chest as he held him back.

"Chris! Chris!" Vin struggled wildly as more of the building collapsed but he could not break free from the older man's grip. "Lemme go!"

"There's nothing you can do, boy." Tanner watched as the side wall caved in and he was vaguely aware of Amelia sobbing in James' arms whilst Josiah comforted a distraught Mary. The other peacekeepers could only look on in horror as the remaining timbers came crashing down, the buckets of water standing forgotten at their feet as they watched the building burn.

"Nooo!" Vin's despairing cry echoed around the yard and he sagged in Tanner's grasp, trembling with shock. The older Texan kept a tight hold on him and dragged him away from the conflagration as the other peacekeepers moved forward, desperately searching for any sign of movement. Mary wiped at her tear-filled eyes and looked once more at the burning ruins of the collapsed barn and then her heart started to pound rapidly as she thought she saw something move.

"What's that?" she cried, pointing towards the shadows beyond the flickering flames. Buck turned at her words and looked to where she was indicating and he could just make out a large huddled shape on the ground.

"Oh Jesus!" he breathed as he took a step forward. "Chris? Nathan, it's them!" The ladies man broke into a run, Nathan right behind him as they went past the remains of the barn to where the two men had collapsed on the ground.

"Easy, Chris," Nathan urged as he crouched down in front of the gunslinger. Chris was on his knees, his arms clutched around his middle as he coughed violently, the painful spasms tearing at his tortured lungs and he was unable to draw a deep breath. "Just breathe slowly."

Amelia was on her knees in front of her husband, weeping hysterically as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"I'm alright, Amy. I'm alright." Ben winced as his wife's fingers inadvertantly brushed against the gash on the back of his head. It had been his own fault; he should have known how the stallion would react once it had been set loose. As it had run past the animal's shoulder had caught him a glancing blow, flinging him back against the corner of the stall. Half stunned he had gone down, only vaguely aware when Chris' fingers had tightened around his forearm and hauled him up, thrusting him towards the side door and safety. The gunslinger had only just been in time. As they tumbled out of the door they heard the roof come crashing down behind them.

"Chris? Y'alright?" Vin had managed to extricate himself from his father's grip and he crouched down beside his friend, his hand resting on the gunslinger's right shoulder. Chris looked up, unable to answer as he still struggled to catch his breath. He could see the concerned faces around him and he lifted his hand wearily to indicate that he was okay. Nathan looked over at James, who was on the other side of Ben trying to examine the wound on his head.

"Let's get them into the house," he said, pulling the gunslinger to his feet as Vin steadied him on the other side. James helped Ben up, putting an arm around his shoulders as his brother-in-law staggered slightly.

"Ben?"

"It's alright. I'm just a bit dizzy." Richardson glanced across at what was left of the barn, marvelling at their lucky escape and then he looked round at Tanner.

"Will, can you - " He stopped as the Texan held up his hand.

"Don't ya worry, Mr Richardson, we'll see to the barn. Ya just get yerself fixed up."

"Can you rug up the stallion for me and turn him into the main corral?"

"Sure. No problem."

With Nathan and Vin on either side of Chris and James and Amelia supporting Ben, they made their way slowly into the doctor's study. Constance had already gone up to check on the children as Mary asked Annie Roberts to bring some hot water and towels into the room so the men could get cleaned up.

James sat Ben down on the couch, Amelia beside him clutching his hand tightly. The Englishman looked a little dazed, gasping as the doctor's probing fingers checked the back of his head.

"It's not too bad, Ben, but I think you need a couple of stitches."

Richardson felt Amelia's fingers tighten around his at her brother's words and he dropped his other hand over hers in reassurance.

"Why don't you go and see if the children are still asleep, Amy?" Ben wanted her out of the way whilst James tended to his wound but he also wanted to be sure that Emily and Edward had not been disturbed and frightened by the fire. "Can you bring me a clean shirt when you come back down?" He glanced across at the gunslinger who was still coughing as he sat beside the desk. "I think you'd better bring one for Chris as well."

Chris sat hunched forward in the chair, the cough easing off as he cleared the last of the smoke from his lungs. He was just as grimy as Ben, his once pristine shirt blackened and scorched, but Nathan was more concerned about the cough. The healer looked up as James came over to get what he needed from his medical chest and the Englishman paused beside them.

"Is he alright, Nathan? That cough sounds really bad."

"Yeah." Nathan continued rubbing the gunslinger's back to try and ease the discomfort. "His lungs are still weak from the pneumonia he had and that smoke ain't helped any."

"Quit fussing!" Chris wheezed without looking up. "I'm fine."

"Ya jus' quit gripin', cowboy, and do as Nathan tells ya!" The comment came from Vin who was perched on the edge of James' desk, watching the gunslinger anxiously. He could still see the roof falling in on the barn and he was just relieved that Chris was still alive .

"I've got something that'll ease that," James said as he rummaged through his medical chest. "Just let me see to Ben first."

Chris sat back in the chair, the cough having finally stopped but he drew a hissing breath as he realised his shoulder was stinging. Nathan heard him gasp and he suddenly noticed the scorch mark across his left shoulder.

"Ya burn yerself?" he asked, and Chris frowned. He remembered the moment of panic as he entered the smoke-filled barn, unable to even see a hand in front of his face. If he had not fallen over the Englishman he would probably never have found him. It was as he hauled Ben up and pushed him out of the side door that part of the frame came away and caught him. He had not realised at the time that he had been burned; he was more concerned with dragging air into his heaving lungs.

"Feels like it," he admitted, his right hand instinctively reaching up to touch the area.

"Let's take a look," Nathan said, easing the shirt from the gunslinger's shoulder. Chris gritted his teeth as the material pulled at the already blistering burn and the healer turned to Mary who had been watching with some concern. "Can you fetch me a bowl of cold water and some cloths, ma'am?"

Vin winced in sympathy as he regarded the raw wound that marked Chris' skin but he was acutely aware that it could have been so much worse. As Nathan placed a cold compress over it the gunslinger flinched.

"Dammit, Nathan - that hurts!"

"Imagine it does," the healer agreed. "Ya jus' hold it there while I see if James has some salve to put on it."

As Nathan went to check with James, Vin leaned forward and regarded his friend earnestly.

"Ya had us worried for a while there, cowboy. Thought the whole damn building'd fell on ya."

"It came close." The thought of being back in that smoke-filled barn brought a tickle to his throat and Chris started coughing again.

"Are you alright, Chris?" Mary asked as the gunslinger continued to splutter. "Do you want some water?"

"I'll get it." Vin stood up quickly and then grabbed at the edge of the desk as a wave of dizziness suddenly hit him.

"Whoa! Sit down." Nathan gripped the tracker's elbow and forced him back down, keeping a tight hold as Vin took a deep breath. "I don't need ya fallin' flat on yer face as well."

"I'm okay now," Vin replied stubbornly. He had been very tired even before he had discovered the fire and for the last thirty minutes he had been running on adrenaline. Now his whole body was starting to ache with the enforced exertion.

"No yer not. Yer exhausted!" The healer could see how pale Vin was, but he also knew that the tracker would be very reluctant to leave until he was certain that Chris was okay. The gunslinger guessed as much as he made his suggestion.

"Why don't you get some sleep? I'm alright and there ain't much else we can do tonight."

"I'll walk upstairs with you, Vin. I really ought to check on Billy anyway." Mary could see what Chris was trying to do and she threw the gunslinger a quick glance, receiving a grateful nod from him in return.

"Maybe I will turn in." Vin made it sound as if it was his own idea. "Reckon it'd be best if we had a scout around in the mornin' if yer up to it."

"Sounds like a good idea." Chris tried to keep his tone level but he was secretly delighted at the prospect of having Vin riding at his side once more. Despite the efforts of the other peacekeepers, he had missed the tracker more than he would admit.

"I'll say g'night then. Mary?" He held his arm out and Mary slipped hers through it.

"Goodnight Chris, Nathan."

The healer watched them leave and then he turned back to Chris, carefully removing the cold compress from his shoulder.

"Let's see how that burn's doin'," he said as he examined the injury. The redness seemed to have faded a little and there was no further blistering but applying the strong smelling salve would still be quite painful. "This might sting a bit." Dipping his fingers into the small pot that James had given him Nathan smeared the thick cream over the burn. Chris gasped and swore under his breath; as usual the healer was the master of understatement.

"So d'you think Vin'll be up to a ride in the morning?" Chris gritted his teeth as he spoke, blinking back tears of pain.

"I reckon so, as long he takes it easy and ya don't stay out too long. 'Sides, ya'll need to rest that shoulder. It'll be pretty stiff in the morning." As Nathan taped a dry dressing over the wound Amelia returned along with Roberts who was carrying a large jug of hot water and several towels which he placed on the bench by the window.

"Thank you, Charles," the woman said, hanging a clean shirt over the back of Chris' chair. "Would you mind bringing in the coffee now?"

"Of course, Madam."

Leaving the gunslinger to remove his ruined shirt and make use of the hot water to wash off the grime, Nathan stepped across the room as Amelia sat back on the couch beside her husband. James had finished stitching the gash and was just wrapping a bandage around Ben's head to hold the dressing in place.

"How ya doing?" Nathan asked, and Richardson looked up cautiously, afraid to move too much because of the shooting pains in his head.

"I'll live thanks to Chris. How is he?" Despite his own suffering the Englishman had heard the gunslinger's hacking cough and he had been concerned.

"He'll be alright after a good nights sleep. So will you."

"It's just what the doctor ordered," James agreed as he mixed a spoonful of white powder in a glass of water and handed it to his brother-in-law. "Drink this," he ordered. "It will ease the headache."

Richardson swallowed the potion with a grimace and then glanced down at the front of his shirt.

"I think I need to clean up a little before I turn in." Ben climbed slowly to his feet, James' hand under his elbow as he swayed slightly and then he walked gingerly across to where Chris had just finished drying himself off. The gunslinger glanced at the bandage around Richardson's head before carefully pulling the clean shirt over the dressing on his own shoulder and he gave a wry smile.

"Don't we make a fine pair!"

Ben returned the grin but then he became serious. "At least we're both alive. I owe you my life, Chris," he stated, holding out his hand. "I'll never forget that."

For the second time within the space of a few weeks Chris found himself being thanked by a man whose life he had just saved. However, this time his feelings were different. Ben Richardson was a good man, a man worthy of his friendship, and despite Will Tanner's apparent relationship to Vin he just could not feel the same about the Texan.

Part Six

Vin turned over and blearily opened his eyes, convinced that once again he could smell smoke and as he sat up he realised that he had been lying on top of his bed still fully clothed. The tracker could not remember falling asleep but he knew that he had been extremely tired, so tired that he had not even had the energy to undress before falling into a deep slumber.

Sniffing again, the smell of burning was stronger and Vin was certain he could now hear the ominous crackle of flames somewhere close by. Hurrying over to the window he drew back the curtains and looked down over the yard and he was horrified to see flames leaping across the roof of the main barn. Whoever had set the first fire must have returned to wreak more havoc, so wasting no more time he rushed out of his room and raced along the top landing and down the stairs.

"Fire! Fire in the barn!" he yelled as he flung open the front door. Looking across he could see two shadowy figures outlined against the glow, running back and forth with buckets of water in a brave effort to quench the blaze but to little effect. As he picked up a spare pail and filled it from the trough he recognised the figures as his own father and Chris Larabee, their smoke-blackened faces indicating that they had been there for some time.

"I gotta get the horses out!" the gunslinger yelled as Vin appeared at his side.

"No - don't!" Vin could feel his panic rising as he remembered what had happened earlier with the stallion's barn and he grabbed at his friend's sleeve. "It's too dangerous!"

"I can't let them die like this!" Chris shook off the young Texan's hand and pushed him away, plunging into the blazing building before Vin could stop him.

"Chris!"

"Vin - no!" Tanner held onto his son as he tried to follow the gunslinger and Vin struggled wildly in his father's grasp.

"Chris! Chris! Lemme go!"

Tanner barely dragged him away in time as the side wall and part of the roof collapsed and he wrapped his arms even tighter around him.

"There's nothing you can do, boy."

"Nooo!" Vin's anguished cry almost deafened the older Texan but he did not relinquish his grip.

"He's dead, son. But you don't need him. You never needed him. You've got me. That's all that matters."

Vin stared at his father, appalled at the triumph in the older man's eyes. He knew the animosity between Chris and Will Tanner ran deep but he had not expected his father to be so matter-of-fact about the gunslinger's apparent death. However, as he looked back desperately at the barn he saw a shape appear in the open doorway, outlined by dancing orange flames. The shape stumbled forward, feebly beating out the burning embers that charred his clothing and scorched the dark blond hair.

"The man's no good, Vin." The words were an echo of what Vin himself had once told Chris when he had tried to warn him about Ella Gaines, and piercing hazel eyes glared accusingly at the tracker as other words tumbled from the blistered lips. "You coulda stopped this. Why didn't you listen to me?" The gunslinger gave a choking gasp as he collapsed to his knees. "You killed our friendship for a lie." Chris gave a convulsive shudder and keeled over sideways, eyes glazing over as death swept him away before the tracker's disbelieving gaze.

"Nooo!" The young Texan's voice broke as a strangled sob was torn from his throat...

... and Vin's eyes snapped open as he drew a gasping breath, the cry of horror that had woken him up fading from his lips. He could feel the tears of grief on his lashes and the cold sweat drying on his skin, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought against the constriction around him. The tracker realised that he was in his bed this time and that the sheet and blankets were tightly tangled about his body.

Dropping his head back against the pillow Vin took several deep breaths, trying to calm his shattered nerves. It was all just a terrifying nightmare but the stark images were deeply etched in his mind. He could remember now coming upstairs, worn out by the events of the day as he stripped off his smoke begrimed clothes. However, despite his exhaustion, he had found himself unable to sleep for some time. The arson attack on the barn was still fresh in his mind, as was the vision of Chris Larabee emerging from the blazing ruins, his clothing scorched and his shoulder burned. It was little wonder that his dreams had taken on such a horrifying aspect.

Extricating himself from the clinging bedclothes, Vin padded across the room and pulled back the curtain, just to satisfy his own peace of mind. To his relief everything outside was calm. He could see the dark outline of the main barn, whole and undamaged with no sign of the flames that had haunted his dreams. Taking another shuddering breath he crossed over to the wash-stand and poured some cold water into the basin, splashing it over his face and neck.

Stumbling back to his bed he straightened the rumpled sheet and blankets before getting back in and he lay back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. As much as he tried to relax he found sleep impossible, afraid to close his eyes for fear of the nightmare returning.

Vin heard the long case clock in the drawing room below him strike four, and each half hour after that until he could see the cold grey fingers of dawn creeping through the half-open curtains of his room. It was somewhere between half past six and seven o'clock that he dropped into an exhausted sleep, with no repeat of his earlier nightmare to disturb him.

Chris Larabee winced as he eased his left arm into the sleeve of his spare, customary black, shirt. As Nathan had predicted his shoulder had stiffened up during the night and the skin around the burn itself felt tight and hot. Pulling on his boots the gunslinger glanced around the bunkhouse. The other five peacekeepers and Will Tanner were still fast asleep. It had taken them another hour to bring the blaze under control and damp it down and they had finally crawled into their beds well after midnight, totally exhausted.

Slipping quietly out of the door, Chris started to walk towards the house but then changed his mind and turned round, heading back towards the burnt out barn. As he drew nearer he was surprised to see Vin standing there. The tracker had his back towards him, and he appeared to be looking down at the still smouldering timbers, seemingly oblivious to the gunslinger's approach.

Chris dropped a hand on the Texan's shoulder and was astonished by the younger man's reaction. Vin leapt like a startled deer at the touch and he turned to face the gunslinger, his features pale and drawn.

"Dammit, Vin. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Vin just continued to stare at his friend. He had slept for barely an hour after waking from his nightmare and he had crept out of the house, avoiding the Roberts who were already preparing breakfast, and made his way over to the collapsed building. Little whisps of smoke drifted up into the morning air and the smell of charred wood hung over everything. The tracker could not repress the shudder that ran through him as he surveyed the destruction and he wondered again how Chris had managed to escape relatively unscathed. The vivid images of his nightmare leapt unbidden into his mind and he squeezed his eyes shut as he saw again the gunslinger crumpling and dying at his feet. Caught up in those memories he had not been prepared for the light touch on his shoulder and it had scared the hell out of him.

"Vin? Y'alright?" Chris was concerned by his friend's silence and he could see that he had not slept well. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and he appeared just as worn out as he had the previous night. "Don't look like y'got much sleep."

"Coupla hours mebbe." Vin shrugged. He was not about to tell Chris what had kept awake for most of the night.

"Same here." The gunslinger had tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable because of the painful injury, his mind mulling over why such an attack had happened now. Apparently the few weeks of calm had been a clever ruse to lull the Richardsons into a false sense of security. It was obvious that the danger was still out there and Chris was determined to put an end to it. "You still up for a look around this morning?" he asked, and the tracker gave him a wan smile.

"Yep. Me'n Peso could do with the exercise."

Chris grinned. "Let's go and find some breakfast then."

"I still don't think this is a good idea."

Nathan made the comment as he watched the four men saddling up their horses in the corral. The healer had already tried to talk them out of it over breakfast. He knew that Chris would be hurting but it was the strain and the weariness on Vin's face that had forced him to voice his doubts. However, he should have known from past experience that his two stubborn friends would not listen to reason and he had only been mildly appeased when Buck and Ezra had volunteered to go with them.

"Quit fussin'," Chris said without looking up from adjusting his girth. "We'll be fine."

"Don't you worry, Nathan. We'll keep an eye on them." Buck grinned as he led his grey gelding towards the gate.

"Not more mammy hens!" Vin breathed with an exaggerated groan as he threw the gunslinger a surreptitious wink, and Chris grinned in return.

"Gentleman, we only have your best interests at heart!" Ezra stated, having heard the soft comment. "Besides, I fear Mr Jackson's wrath would be terrible to behold should something untoward happen."

"Ya got that right," Nathan agreed. "At least Ben listened to sense." The healer had already spoken to James earlier that morning and discovered that Ben Richardson had spent a restless night. As Owen had suspected, his brother-in-law had a mild concussion, and he had been ordered to stay in bed and rest for at least the remainder of the day.

"Somehow sense and our two esteemed colleagues never did go hand in hand." The gambler's comment drew a glare from Chris Larabee but it was half-hearted and his lips twitched with amusement. He suspected - wrongly - that Nathan was behind the suggestion that Buck and Ezra accompany them and he could understand his concern but he was content just to have Vin riding with him again.

"Ya mind what I say," Nathan reiterated as the four men led their horses from the corral. "Don't stay out too long."

"We hear you." Chris glanced at Vin as he swung into the saddle of his black but the tracker was too occupied trying to keep his own skittish mount under control. Peso was restless, eager to stretch his legs and Vin could appreciate the horse's enthusiasm. Both man and beast had been cooped up at the Richardson's for over three weeks and the need to be out on the open range was almost a physical ache.

"We'll probably be about an hour." Buck glanced at the gunslinger, almost daring him to defy that statement, but Chris merely shrugged. For once he did not contradict the ladies man; he was aware that Vin was still going to be short on stamina even though the tracker would never admit it, and he knew that they were not likely to find much anyway. However, it was important that Vin got some time in the saddle before they headed back to Four Corners.

"I'll hold ya to that," Nathan warned as the four men rode out.

"So, Mr Tanner, how are you getting along with your father?"

Ezra asked the question after they had been riding for about fifteen minutes. So far they had only found a few scuffed tracks on the trail leading away from Ben Richardson's property, but nothing of any great significance. The gambler had been riding alongside Vin whilst the Texan had led the small party and he voiced one of the questions that had been uppermost in his mind ever since he had learned of Will Tanner's relationship to his friend.

"We're gettin' on jus' fine," Vin replied, forcing a smile as he pushed aside the nightmare visions that had kept him awake after the fire.

Ezra nodded. He had been watching them closely over the Christmas dinner the previous day and during the evening and he could see that Vin seemed quite comfortable around the older Texan. However, he was acutely aware of how Chris Larabee felt, and he had also seen the almost gloating expression on Will Tanner's face when the presents had been given out, and he had reserved judgement under the circumstances. A keen observer of human nature, Ezra was never one to take things on face value, especially when it concerned a good friend.

"Did you not feel angry when you found out who he really was?"

Vin hesitated for a moment, casting his mind back to that fateful night. It was something he had not thought about until now and he realised that he had initially been angry at Tanner's claim, but circumstances had conspired to rob him of that feeling.

"Was at first," he admitted at length. "But then I got so sick nothin' else mattered."

"Hmm." The Southerner could not help wondering whether Vin's reaction would have been different if he had not become ill. The appendicitis had left him in a vulnerable position and Ezra just hoped that Will Tanner had not taken advantage of that fact. "He must have had pretty convincing evidence for you to believe him that quick."

"Yeah, he did. 'Sides, he was there when I needed him. He's done everything a father oughta." Vin did not take offence at Ezra's remarks. He knew the gambler was only asking out of concern, the concern of a friend. "I know what Chris thinks of him, but he's wrong."

"Maybe he is. Mr Larabee is not one to parade his feelings in public. Perhaps the only way he can show he cares is to get angry."

"Reckon yer right, but it don't change what I believe."

"Your loyalty does you credit, my friend. I'm not so sure that I could be so magnanimous if my father suddenly came back into my life."

"Not if the same thing happened to you?" Vin glanced sideways at the gambler, seeing the frown on his face.

"I don't think so." Even as he said it Ezra wondered if that would really be true. When he had thought about it in the past and imagined the scenario, anger was the first emotion that had come to him. Now he was not so sure. They fell silent for a long moment, and then the tracker turned to his friend.

"D'ya ever think about yer pa? D'ya remember him?"

"I remember that he was never there when I needed him." The bitterness in Ezra's voice made Vin look at him sharply. The gambler was staring at some point between his gelding's ears but then he glanced up as he realised he was being observed and gave a disarming smile. "I've never really thought about him. My mother taught me to be self-reliant at an early age." Ezra tried to dismiss the question.as unimportant but he knew that he had come closer to revealing how he felt than ever before in his life.

Vin was not fooled by the gambler's seeming indifference but he was not going to push him any further. Just then Buck and Chris urged their horses forward, coming up on either side of the two younger men.

"D'ya find any more tracks, Vin?" Buck knew that the tracker had not really been concentrating on the trail but there had not been much to find anyway.

"Nope," the young Texan replied. "Reckon they're long gone."

"Maybe we oughta to start heading back," the ladies man continued, not even feeling annoyed when Vin looked directly at Chris on his left for confirmation.

"Buck's right," the gunslinger agreed. "We're not gonna find much more. We're just wasting our time."

In actual fact it had not been so much of a waste as Chris had indicated. At least Vin had had the chance to take a reasonably long ride and it would not be such a physical strain on him when they had to ride back to Four Corners. However, he knew that Nathan would be anxiously awaiting their return, and would no doubt need to check that both he and Vin were okay. Some things never changed.

With lunch over, Vin had reluctantly taken Nathan's advice and gone up to his room for a few hours sleep whilst the healer had dragged Chris into James' study to change the dressing on his shoulder. The wound was messy and weeping as Nathan carefully cleaned it and applied some fresh salve and a clean bandage.

"D'you think Vin'll be okay to ride back with us?" Chris asked, gritting his teeth against the sting of his injury. He had been concerned at how tired the tracker was when they arrived back at the ranch but Nathan quickly put his fears to rest.

"Yeah, so long as we take it slow and easy. 'Sides, he'll have a few more days to rest up." Chris had made it quite clear that in light of the attack on Christmas night the peacekeepers were going to stay a little longer to provide adequate protection until Richardson's hands arrived back from their vacations and Ben had shaken off his own injury. "He's gonna be tired for a while, but that's to be expected and - " The healer stopped as he heard voices outside the study door and then a slow grin spread across his face as he realised who the voices belonged to.

Chris looked round as Ben Richardson entered the room, closely followed by his agitated brother-in-law. The older Englishman still had a bandage wrapped around his head and he was a little pale but there was a determined set to his shoulders that Chris recognised.

"I'm fine, James!" Richardson said, continuing the argument with the young doctor. "I've just got a bit of a headache now, but I'm not going to stay in bed any longer!" Ben slumped down into one of the easy chairs, glaring at James defiantly and Owen turned away as he heard Nathan chuckle.

"I never knew my brother-in-law could be so pig-headed!" he stated, and the healer shook his head.

"Know just how ya feel!" Nathan replied, gazing pointedly at Chris but the gunslinger gave him a look of mock innocence.

"At least you don't have a big sister breathing down your neck as well," James told him with a sigh.

"Thought you two were twins?" Chris sounded puzzled.

"We are, but Lia's older by half an hour," the Englishman explained with a smile. "It's times like this that she never lets me forget it!"

The gunslinger shrugged his shirt back on and went over to join Ben by the fireplace, dropping into the other chair and facing the Englishman.

"So, did you find anything?" Ben asked.

"A few tracks leading away from the ranch, but not much else."

Richardson sighed heavily and leaned back in his seat. "I really thought they'd given up by now. What's going to be next? The house?" Ben shook his head. "For the sake of the children I'm beginning to think it might be wiser to move back East."

Chris frowned, hearing the disheartened tone in Richardson's voice but he could understand his feelings. The Englishman had a lot to lose.

"We're doing no such thing!" Both men looked up as Amelia spoke. They had not been aware that she had entered the room along with Annie Roberts who placed a tray of tea things on James' desk. "This is our home, Ben, and we won't be driven off by a gang of thugs!"

James stepped up behind his sister and placed his arms around her shoulders in an affectionate hug before waving Mrs Roberts out and starting to pour the tea himself.

"I'm only thinking of you and the children, Amy." Ben held his hand out and Amelia took it, perching on the arm of his chair.

"I know." Amelia placed her other hand over his. "But this is your dream. It's what we've always wanted, and I'm not giving up that easily."

Chris remained silent as he watched the couple and he felt a sudden twinge of sadness. Amelia Richardson reminded him of Sarah; there was the same strength of will and determination that his late wife had had, and he admired her for it.

"Tell him, Chris. Tell him we've got to stay."

"She's right you know. You can't let them drive you off like this. You gotta make a stand." Chris leaned forward and stared earnestly at the Englishman. "Remember - you're not on your own. If you like, me an' the boys'll stay a few more days."

Richardson thought long and hard about the offer but he was conscious of the fact that he would be taking them away from their duties in Four Corners if he accepted. However, he was also aware of his own limitations and the vulnerability of the ranch whilst he was shorthanded.

"Grateful as I am, I can't ask you to do that. Your job is to police the town. I don't want to take you away from that."

"You won't be," the gunslinger assured him. "I know Mary needs to get back tomorrow 'cos of the paper, and I can send JD, Ezra, and Josiah back with her. They'll be able to cope with things for a while."

"If you're sure, I won't argue with you. I'll be happy to have you stay. I just hope we can put a stop to this soon so we can get on with our lives." Ben smiled gratefully up at his wife and his momentary doubts faded away in the face of her resolve and Chris' offer of help.

"Well, that's settled then. I think we could all do with some tea - and we'll have no more talk of this nonsense about moving back East." Amelia stood up and then she turned and wagged her finger at her husband. "And then you are going to get some more rest!"

Ben pulled a face and Chris grinned. Amelia was one determined lady, and James and Nathan would do well to take a leaf out of her book when it came to getting her own way.

+ + + + + + +

After all the excitement of the past few days the house seemed positively quiet as Vin sat out on the front porch cleaning his sawn-off Winchester.

Mary and Billy Travis were already on their way back to town with Ezra, Josiah, and JD as escort. Their departure had been noisy and the three children had been somewhat tearful, with Edward and Emily reluctant to lose their new playmate but Mary had promised Amelia that they would be back to visit again soon.

Vin's father had been out and about since early morning, seeing to all those jobs that kept the ranch running smoothly, whilst Buck... Actually the young Texan had no idea where Buck was. He only knew that the ladies man was not in the house.

The tracker had considered going out to the corral where he knew he would find Chris, Ben, and Nathan tending to the Arab stallion. Despite the Englishman's prompt actions when the barn was burning the horse had managed to bruise its shoulder quite badly, but Nathan had mixed up a linament from various plants and herbs that still struggled to keep a foothold in the overgrown walled garden. It needed the other two men to keep the animal under control whilst the healer rubbed the soothing lotion into the affected area.

In the end Vin had decided against it, knowing that he would most probably in the way. Instead he borrowed the items he needed to clean his gun, and had spent the last half hour sitting in the late afternoon sun as he meticulously went about his task. He had almost finished when the front door opened and he looked up in some surprise as Constance Bartlett stepped out.

"Ma'am," he greeted politely, touching his hat.

"Oh!" The governess seemed quite startled to find someone sitting out in the chilly air with a gun in their hand. "Good afternoon, Mr Tanner." She paused for a moment, looking around hesitantly but before Vin could say anything else she seemed to come to a decision and hurried off across the yard. The tracker shrugged and just carried on with what he was doing.

A further five minutes ticked by and as Vin sat there with his Winchester across his lap he shivered. He was starting to feel the cold a bit now despite his jacket, and he thought it was about time he went back in. However, before the tracker could make a move the door opened once more and James Owen came out to the porch.

"Vin," he exclaimed. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

"Waal, the others are busy so I figgered to use the time t'clean my gun." He glanced up as the Englishman seated himself on the bench next to him. "'Sides, I kinda got used to m'own company over the years."

"Oh." James started to get up. "If you'd rather be by yourself... " he began, but Vin gave him a quick smile.

"No, yer fine. I'll be glad of the company."

They sat there in silence for a few moments, watching as the sun started to slip down towards the horizon bathing everything in a crimson glow, and James sighed.

"It is pretty here. I can see why Ben and Lia want to stay."

"But y'ain't so sure." It was not a question as Vin glanced towards this man who he now regarded as a friend. He could hear the doubt in his voice, the uncertainty about whether it was the right choice.

"I didn't think we'd have all this trouble," the doctor admitted. "It just seemed like the perfect opportunity for all of us to start afresh."

"Know how ya feel." It was much the same situation that he had found himself in when he first met Chris in Four Corners. The chance to start again had been something that he and the gunslinger had grabbed with both hands. "Reckon ya just had a run o'bad luck. Things'll change, ya'll see."

"I hope you're right, my friend. I'm just glad that Chris offered to stay for a while longer."

"Ya didn't think we'd leave while Ben was hurt and yer shorthanded, did ya?" Vin seemd shocked by the Englishman's assumption. "But we can't be here all the time. Ya gotta start lookin' out fer yerself. That's the way it is out here."

"I know that, but I can't handle a gun," James said. He had noticed that even while the tracker was talking to him he was using an oily cloth to constantly rub at the mechanism of his Winchester. It was such an unconscious action that he did not think Vin was even aware he was doing it.

"I'd more'n happy to teach ya," Vin volunteered.

"That's not what I mean," James replied softly. "Ben gave me a gun, but I can't even bring myself to load it. The thought of using it against another human being frankly terrifies me." He looked down at his hands, the slender fingers that had brought the tracker back from the brink of death. "I was taught to save lives, not take them."

"Not even to protect Amelia and the children?"

Owen glanced round as the Texan voiced the question and there was horror in his eyes. That was something he not thought about, even after all the problems they had had, and he hoped he would never be placed in that situation.

"I don't know," he whispered honestly. "I pray to God I never have to find out."

For a moment Vin did not reply. Over the years he had been responsible for the death of a number of men, but usually they were trying to kill him. Even when he had become a bounty hunter, with the reward payable 'Dead or Alive', dead had never been an option for him.

"Maybe there'll come a time when we won't need to protect ourselves, but it ain't now. At least keep yer gun loaded and carry it wit' ya."

"I'll think about it," James agreed. "But I won't make any promises." He looked up; there was less than an hour of daylight left and he shivered as a sudden breeze whipped across the porch. "I don't think you should sit out here much longer," he told the Texan. "I don't want you catching a chill on top of everything else."

"Yer right." Vin climbed to his feet and sniffed at the air. "Reckon we'll get some snow afore too long."

"Come on." James stood up and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "It's warmer in the kitchen, and I happen to know that Mrs Roberts is baking biscuits. Let's see if we can help her out before the others come back."

Buck was alone in the bunkhouse packing away a few of his belongings in his saddlebag, and he paused as he picked up the silk bandana he had received as a gift. A smile curved his lips as he fingered the soft, sensual material and he shook it out and placed it down on the bed. Reaching up, he untied and discarded the one he was wearing before folding the new one in half and fastening it around his throat, carefully settling it into the correct position. Suddenly he heard a floorboard creak and he turned to find Constance Bartlett standing just inside the doorway.

"Oh, Mr Wilmington!" The woman sounded surprised as Buck stepped forward, a wide grin on his face.

"Why Miss Constance, what an unexpected pleasure. I do hope you were looking for me."

"I most certainly was not!" The governess sounded most indignant at the suggestion.

"I asked you to call me Buck." The ladies man's voice was soft and low as he cocked his head to one side and regarded her intently.

"So I recall," Constance replied tersely, all the while glancing around the bunkhouse as though she were looking for someone or something. "I... er, I was actually searching for Edward. The boy seems to have disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Buck's smile faded and he became serious. With all that had been happening with the Richardsons, the idea that one of the children was missing gave him great cause for concern. Seeing the alarm on his face Constance blushed with embarrassment.

"Oh no... I mean... How foolish of me!" The Englishwoman's cool composure slipped as she tried to extricate herself from the awkward situation, and Buck could see how flustered she was. "I've just remembered that the children are with Mrs Roberts. I'm so sorry to have worried you. I don't know how I could have been so forgetful!"

Buck visibly relaxed at her words, relieved that nothing had happened to Edward or Emily and then he smiled, his eyes twinkling mischieviously.

"Perhaps your mind was on something else," he suggested. "Me, for instance."

The woman stared at him for a long moment, her lips twitching as she fought to prevent a smile escaping.

"You really are most persistant," she stated, and there was a vague hint of amusement in her tone.

"I've been told that's one of my better qualities, but I have others." Buck paused and gave her a knowing look. "So far I haven't had any complaints."

Constance knew exactly what he meant but she ignored his pointed comment. Instead she glanced past him, frowning a little as she saw the saddlebags on the bunk behind him.

"So you're leaving then?"

"Not until the day after tomorrow, ma'am." Buck sighed as the woman deliberately ignored his advances as she had done from the first moment he had met her, and he was beginning to think that his famous 'animal magnetism' was wearing a little thin.

"Oh." Buck was intrigued by the fleeting look of disappointment on the Englishwoman's face, and he moved a fraction closer.

"Gonna miss me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. I think it's safe to say that we will all miss the reassuring presence of yourself and your friends."

"Waal, we'd like to stay a bit longer but we're needed back in town." Buck was beginning to realise that he was fighting a losing battlr with this woman. "The ranch crew'll be back in the morning, so you'll be well protected."

"Yes, you're probably right."

As she started to turn away Buck shrugged his shoulders regretfully and lowered his gaze. He did not regard her as simply just another conquest. The ladies man had genuinely found her to be intelligent and sophisticated, and he would like to have taken their acquaintance that one step further but it seemed that was not to be.

"Oh, to hell with it!"

The softly muttered curse caused Buck to look up and he was taken completely aback as Constance took two steps forward and reached out to pull his face towards hers. He barely had time to draw a breath as her lips fastened hungrily on his mouth and he staggered back, his arms instinctively going around her waist. For almost a minute they remained locked together and then Constance broke the contact, smiling as she glanced up into Buck's amazed face.

"Why ma'am, you are just full of surprises!" The ladies man sounded slightly breathless, stunned by the intensity of the woman's kiss and she smiled coyly as she pulled out of his grasp. Taking hold of the broom that stood beside the door, she wedged it under the latch so it could not be opened from the outside. Turning back she slipped her arms around his neck once again.

"Mr Wilmington, I've only just begun."

+ + + + + + +

Nathan frowned as he glanced across once more at Vin Tanner. The young tracker had been quiet for some time and he was beginning to wonder whether the ride was taking too much out of him after all.

The party had left the Richardson's soon after breakfast on the fourth day after Christmas with much handshaking and hugging all round at the leavetaking. Even a relaxed-looking Constance Bartlett appeared sorry to see them go, but only Nathan saw the brief smile that passed between her and Buck. Vin had said his goodbyes to his father in private, although Will Tanner was there with the family to see them off, and the tracker had seemed eager at the prospect of finally returning to town, but now he appeared rather subdued.

"Vin? Y'alright?" The healer asked the question as he kneed his horse closer. "Yer side hurting?"

"Huh?" Vin jerked upright in his saddle. He had been so deep in thought that he had shut out everyone around him. "No, no. It's fine." They had been keeping to a steady pace since they had left, and in actual fact Vin had not given the wound a second thought. It was almost healed now and the dressing had been left off several days ago,

"I guess it's seems strange going back to town. After all, it's bin a while... " The healer's voice trailed off as Vin gave a heavy sigh.

"It ain't the goin' back to town," the tracker admitted. "I just realise how much I'm gonna miss m'pa."

Nathan looked ahead, his eyes fixed firmly on a point between Chris Larabee's shoulder-blades. He had seen the smug delight on the gunslinger's face when Vin had led his saddled gelding out of the barn and joined them as they were getting ready to leave. He knew how pleased Chris was that the tracker was returning with them, back to where he belonged. but it was more than that. Nathan sensed that Chris thought if he could put some distance between Vin and Will Tanner then their relationship would revert back to the comfortable, easy understanding of before.

"Y'ain't gonna be that far away. Ya'll know exactly where he is."

"I just wanna spend more time with him. Is that so wrong?"

"No. I know how ya feel. I wish I coulda spent more time wit' my daddy." The healer looked away quickly as tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. Obidiah Jackson had finally found his son just before he was tried for a crime of passion that stretched back before the Civil War. Nathan's friends had helped to set the record straight, but that had not been enough to save his father. Consumption had claimed the life of the former slave a few short months after he had been entrusted into Chris Larabee's aegis.

"I'm sorry, Nathan." Vin felt a little guilty at being so self-absorbed. "I didn't mean t'stir up painful memories."

"Ya didn't. I'm glad I got t'know my father again before... y'know?" Nathan looked at his friend and he forced a grin to his lips. "Make the most of it. Don't let the chance slip away."

"I ain't gonna, no matter what anyone else thinks!" Vin replied emphatically. "He's family - and that means too much to me."

The healer pursed his lips thoughtfully. He could certainly understand Vin's feelings towards his father but it would not be right to simply push his friends away because someone new had come into his life.

"I know that, but yer friends're important, too." Nathan paused and glanced once more at Chris. "We might not always see things t'way yer do, but it don't mean we don't care."

"Ain't denying that." Vin knew that his friends would spit in the face of the Devil himself for him, and he would do the same, but that was not the issue. It was Chris Larabee's stubborn refusal to accept Will Tanner for who he was that was the thorn in the tracker's side. "But it ain't gonna change what I feel for m'pa."

"I ain't sayin' it should, but friends are the family we choose fer ourself an' don't yer forget that!"

Vin nodded thoughtfully, and Nathan's words stayed in his mind all the way to Four Corners.

+ + + + + + +

The New Year had come and gone with little ceremony and things had remained quiet at the Richardson's place. However, that did not mean that they were letting their guard down; they had been caught out once before and Ben was taking no chances. On Chris Larabee's advice he had hired some extra hands and maintained a vigilant presence around the property. His actions seemed to have paid off with no further trouble in the two weeks following Christmas.

Vin Tanner pulled his coat tighter around him as he walked down the main street of Four Corners. They had been lucky so far with only a few flurries of snow to herald in the coming winter but the tracker could sense that it would not be long before the real cold weather set in with a vengeance.

This was only the second time that Vin had been out on patrol on his own. Despite his recovery from the appendicitis, Nathan had fussed and fretted for more than a week after their return from the ranch making certain that he did not over-tax himself. As he made his way to the jailhouse blowing on his cold fingers, he heard his name called, and he looked around to see his father driving a buckboard along the street towards him.

"Vin! How're ya doing boy?" Will Tanner drew the wagon to a halt and jumped down from the seat as he greeted his son.

"M'fine." Vin smiled as the older Texan dropped a hand on his shoulder. It was the first time he had seen him since he and the others had left the Richardson's ranch and he had missed him.

"Thought ya might o'been out t'see me afore now," Tanner admonished gently, but Vin shook his head. In spite of Nathan's concerns about his health his peacekeeping duties had kept him busy, with no time for out of town socialising.

"Was gonna, but... " The tracker felt slightly guilty, but Tanner shrugged it aside.

"Don't worry. I know ya got things t'do here, son. 'Sides, we've been pretty busy ourselves, what with the extra patrols n'all."

"Has Ben had any more trouble?" Vin asked anxiously.

"Nope. Quiet as a church social. Those extra hands seem to've done the trick. Reckon Larabee was right."

Vin raised one eyebrow in surprise, pleased that his father had given Chris some credit for the suggestion but he knew there was still a long way to go.

"So what brings ya t'town?"

"Got a list of supplies to pick up for the boss," Tanner replied, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Gotta check the mail, too. See if there's any letters for 'em."

"Waal, I gotta get back to the jail, but maybe I'll see ya in the saloon later?"

"Count on it, son. Ya can buy yer ol' daddy a drink."

Vin was grinning as he walked away, anticipating a pleasant evening in the saloon. As he approached the Sheriff's office he decided that it would be wiser not to tell Chris that Will Tanner was in town. If the gunslinger found out later... then so be it.

Casey Wells was bored. She had just come from the jailhouse in search of JD, but neither Chris nor Vin seen him for some time. It was Chris who had suggested she look in at the saloon as the young peacekeeper was more than likely to be with Buck at this time of the afternoon.

As the girl started to cross the alley by the hotel a faint noise drew her attention and she glanced down to where Vin's wagon stood. Even as she looked she could see a vague shape moving about inside and she crept forward, listening carefully. Casey knew with absolute certainty that it was not Vin unless he could be in two places at once, and she doubted whether it would be any of the other peacekeepers. It was the tracker's own sanctuary from the world and the others respected his privacy. This led Casey to one simple conclusion; whoever was inside had no right to be there. However, she knew her limitations and she was not prepared to challenge the intruder. Turning on her heel, she hurried back towards the jail.

"Vin! There's someone in your wagon!"

Casey's sudden unexpected reappearance startled both men as they sat drinking coffeee and Vin jumped up from where he had been perched on the edge of the desk.

"Yer sure?" It was not that the tracker disbelieved her; he just could not think that he had anything worth stealing.

"Sure as I'm standing here lookin' at you two!" Casey did not mince her words, and Chris set down his cup as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Let's go."

The two peacekeepers had their guns drawn ready as they approached the rear of Vin's wagon. Chris held up his hand, indicating that they should stop, and then he put a finger to his lips and listened carefully. For a moment they believed that the intruder - whoever it was - had already left but then they saw the wagon move slightly on its springs. Tightening his grip on his Colt Chris called out a challenge.

"Whoever you are you'd best get the hell out o'there now!" There was a moments silence and the two peacekeepers stepped forward, their weapons trained on the unlaced flap, but neither was prepared for the person who cautiously emerged from inside.

"Pa?" Vin could not keep the surprise from his voice as the Texan climbed out and stood facing them, but Chris was furious.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing, Tanner?" he growled menacingly. "Why did you break into Vin's wagon?"

"Didn't mean no harm, son. I was jus' lookin'." Tanner ignored Chris completely and glanced at Vin, seeing the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"What were ya lookin' fer? If ya needed summat ya only had t'ask."

"Kinda a habit with you, ain't it? Going through other peoples things." Chris could not help making the reference to Tanner having taken Vin's harmonica when the tracker was so desperately ill. Before the man could reply to the accusation Vin rounded on his friend, his expression confused.

"What t'hell's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, but Chris just shrugged.

"You'd best ask him."

"Just hold on a minute, boys." The older Texan tried to defuse the tense situation. "Lets not get all riled up about this. Why don't w'all head on down to the saloon and have a drink?"

"I ain't thirsty!" Chris dropped his gun back into its holster as he flung the olive branch back in Tanner's face. "'Sides, I've got better things to do. Vin, you deal with this." With that the gunslinger stalked away.

"Don't reckon I'm ever gonna see eye to eye wit' yer friend," Tanner sighed regretfully.

"Chris is a hard man to get to know," Vin replied, absently lacing up the back of his wagon. "Hell, Buck's known him for more'n twelve years, and most times he don't understand him!"

"Ain't seen you having a problem. Ya seem to get on real well wit' him."

Vin frowned as he stared at his father. That was something he had never been able to figure out but it was true. There had never been any hesitation in his friendship with Chris; it had been spontaneous - instant trust, instant understanding - and he had never had any regrets. He smiled.

"I dunno. We just... get along. It's like I've always known 'im."

"I never meant t'come between ya, boy." Tanner placed his hand on Vin's shoulder. "I jus' wanna be part of yer life now."

"I know that. Chris's jus' gonna have'ta accept it." Vin glanced up at the darkening sky. "Come on," he invited. "I'll buy ya that drink now."

As the two men headed in the direction of the saloon the young tracker gave no further thought to the fact that they had discovered Will Tanner snooping around his wagon. Whether deliberately or by accident, the conversation had been subtly turned away from the incident.

It was fairly late in the evening and Vin and Will Tanner found themselves sitting alone in a corner of the saloon, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of them. They had passed the time quite pleasantly. They had had supper with Buck and JD and then played poker with Ezra until their money got low. It was Vin who called it a day first but his father was not long in following him and they retired to the corner table to talk and drink.

Vin had seen Chris enter the saloon about half an hour ago but although the gunslinger had glanced over in their direction he made no attempt to join them. Instead he stood alone at the end of the bar, hands wrapped around a large whiskey staring moodily into the glass.

"I never got round to apologising fer this afternoon," Tanner began, and Vin looked around at him in surprise. The tracker had been watching the morose figure of Chris Larabee and he had been feeling a little guilty. There had been several occasions when he had considered going over to talk to his friend but something held him back each time. "Yer wagon?" the older man continued, seeing the mystified expression on his son's face.

"What? Oh... yeah."

"I know I shoulda asked, but when I saw it I couldn't help myself." Picking up the bottle he poured them both a generous measure of the whiskey. "I kept thinking 'bout what ya said - 'bout living with the Comanch' an' the Kiowa? - an' I reckon I was jus' curious."

"Ferget it. It ain't important." Vin dismissed it, taking a quick swallow of his drink. Despite his concerns over Chris he was feeling quite relaxed, content just to sit there and be sociable with his father. The minutes ticked by as the conversation lulled and Vin could not help thinking that this was the kind of silence he had so often shared with the gunslinger, and he found the similarity disquieting.

"Vin, I dunno how t'say this, but I've bin givin' some thought to moving on." All of a sudden Tanner spoke, and he immediately had the tracker's undivided attention.

"What? What d'ya mean?" Vin was appalled. His father had just come back into his life after more than twenty years and now he was talking about leaving again. It was almost too much to comprehend.

"I never intended to stay with the Richardson's fer very long. I got a bit o'money saved up, and I bin thinking' 'bout buying my own little place." He paused, and regarded Vin intently. "I want ya to come wit' me, son."

Vin gasped aloud and sat back in his chair, totally stunned by this unexpected turn of events. Leave? Leave Four Corners? Once again his gaze was drawn to Chris Larabee standing isolated by the bar, and he could feel his stomach knotting with trepidation. The tracker had never been one for settling in the same place for any length of time. Wanderlust had always forced him on, first through choice and then by neccessity, until Four Corners and Chris Larabee had quite literally stopped him in his tracks. Here he had finally found a home and with the other peacekeepers, a 'family' who he cared about, and who cared for him. Now he was being asked to give it all up for an uncertain future with a man he barely knew. However, that man was his father and he had always longed for the chance to have a real family.

"I know it ain't an easy choice, boy, but I want ya t'give it some serious thought." Tanner could see the indecision on the younger man's face and he was not about to press his son for a quick answer. This was something that affected their whole future and needed careful consideration.

Vin picked up his glass and swallowed the rest of his drink, not even tasting it as it went down. He was thoroughly bewildered by his father's proposal, unable to think clearly about the choice he was being asked to make. However, there was one thing he knew for certain. Until he had made his decision one way or another he dare not mention a word of it to Chris Larabee.

+ + + + + + +

As Josiah Sanchez came out of the church and pulled the door shut behind him he looked along the main trail out of town as the sound of hoofbeats caught his attention, and he offered up a silent prayer as he saw Vin Tanner riding in, holding his horse to a steady walk.

"Vin! Wait up!" The ex-preacher strode down the steps as the Texan brought his black gelding to a stop. "D'you have a moment, my friend?"

"Sure. What's up?" Vin slipped from the saddle and walked forward as Josiah sat down on the steps.

"Saw you heading out with your father this morning. Thought you seemed a mite troubled. Is everything alright between you two?"

The big man had a very good reason for asking the last question. He had seen Vin and Will Tanner talking intently in the saloon the previous evening and he had noticed the apprehension on the tracker's face, and he wondered at the cause. Then this morning the young Texan had been quieter than usual if that was possible, and he seemed to be avoiding Chris altogether for some reason. Josiah knew that something was worrying him and he was willing to listen if Vin wanted to talk about it.

"Yeah, it's fine. It's just that... " Vin paused and gave a heavy sigh, lowering his gaze as he toyed absently with the reins in his hand. "Have ya ever had t'make a choice when ya didn't wanna?"

"Many times, my friend." Josiah did not hesitate; the choices he had made between himself and his God were amongst the hardest of his life. "Sometimes it's difficult to make the right ones, but you'll know when you have."

"How?"

The ex-preacher looked up and gave the younger peacekeeper a half-smile. "I'm a great believer in the proverb 'a problem shared is a problem halved' - especially if it's shared with a friend."

Vin returned the smile, grateful for Josiah's concern. His father's proposal had kept him awake for most of the night, and although he had thought he could work it through for himself he now realised that he needed someone to talk to. He had ridden out part of the way with Will as he returned to the ranch with the supplies, hoping that he would be able to reach a desicion but it had been impossible. In all fairness to the man, Tanner had not put any undue pressure on Vin, leaving him to make his own choice but it did not make it any easier. Pushing back his hat Vin sat down on the step beside the ex-preacher and told him about his father's plans for the future and how he wanted Vin to be a part of that.

"I dunno what t'do, Josiah," he said at length his voice low. Josiah looked at him, reading the inner turmoil on his face, but in all honesty he was not surprised. Vin might not have thought about his father moving on but it had certainly crossed his mind and he wondered whether any of the other peacekeepers had considered it. Chris probably had; it would explain his hostile attitude towards Will Tanner. Of all of them the gunslinger would be the most affected if Vin decided to leave with his father.

"What does your heart tell you to do?"

Vin wished he knew. For as long as he could remember all he had ever wanted was the love and security of a real family - or so he had thought. Now that he had to make that choice he was not so sure.

"Feels like I'm bein' torn apart. Whatever I do, someone's gonna get hurt." There was no disguising the misery in the tracker's voice. Vin had naively believed he could keep the best of both worlds, with his father staying at the Richardson's where he could visit whenever he wanted, whilst he continued with his life in Four Corners. However, reality was proving to be much harsher than the dream.

"Only you can decide what's best for you." Josiah leaned forward and dropped a hand on the Texan's forearm, squeezing sympathetically.

"I know," Vin whispered.

"Do any of the others know about this?"

"No - and I'd sooner they didn't yet." Vin knew that Josiah would respect his confidence even before the ex-preacher replied.

"They'll not hear it from me, my friend."

The two men sat there for a moment longer, each wrapped in their own thoughts and oblivious to the chill in the air. Finally Vin climbed to his feet and settled his hat back on his head.

"Reckon I'd best be getting along." The Texan gathered up the reins of his patient mount and gave Josiah a warm smile. "Thanks fer list'ning."

"Any time."

Josiah remained sitting on the steps, watching the tracker lead his horse towards the Livery. What he had said was true; only Vin could decide what he wanted to do but he would hate to see him leave. The bond of trust and affection between the seven grew stronger with each passing day but it was Vin, not Chris, who seemed to hold them together. He was the hub around which the wheel turned and without that fulcrum Josiah was afraid that the wheel would collapse, damaged beyond repair.

+ + + + + + +

"I wish you wouldn't go, James. Will seems to think we're going to get some snow."

Amelia Richardson made the plea as her brother tightened the girth on his sorrel gelding. James had made it quite clear that he felt the need to take a ride and nothing was going to deter him. He was beginning to feel a little bored around the ranch; there was very little he could do with the day to day running of it and he wanted some time to himself.

"Stop fussing, Lia! Everyone's been talking about snow for weeks, and nothing's happened. Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Amelia was not convinced and she looked at her husband as he stood on the porch beside her.

"Tell him, Ben. Tell him he can't go."

"Why? He's a grown man, Amy. He can look after himself."

James threw his brother-in-law a grateful look. Much as he loved his family sometimes he just needed to get away from them for a few hours. It was something that Ben understood, but Amelia could not.

"I'm only going for a short ride. I won't be long."

The Englishwoman knew that she was fighting a losing battle and in the end she gave in gracefully. Stepping forward she kissed her brother on the cheek.

"You just be careful," she said. "Keep an eye on the weather."

"If you're not back for lunch, I'll ask Mrs Roberts to save something for you." Ben handed the reins to the young doctor and James gave a wry grin.

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

As James mounted his horse Richardson went back into the house but Amelia remained on the porch, biting her bottom lip in consternation as she watched her twin disappear into the distance.

James was thoughtful as he kept his mount to a steady trot. Ever since he had operated on Vin Tanner he had realised that being a doctor was the most important thing in his life, and he wanted to continue helping people. However, he knew that he would not be able to achieve his full potential by staying where he was. It had taken a small-town healer to make him understand just what he was capable of, and he would be eternally grateful to Nathan Jackson for making him see this.

Although he knew it would upset the family James was seriously considering looking further afield to set up his own practice. Four Corners was not an option; although he was not a trained doctor Nathan had the natural skill of a healer and the full support of the townsfolk, and Owen would not dream of usurping his position. The town of Eagle Bend, or even beyond that, might be something for him to consider and he needed this time alone to weigh up the possibilities.

Thinking about Four Corners brought his mind back to the seven peacekeepers who he had come to regard as friends. From the outset he had been in awe and a little scared of Chris Larabee until he had come to know the man beyond the reputation. His opinion had changed when he had seen how different the gunslinger was wth Vin; the care and attention he had shown towards the tracker had surprised him.

However, it was Vin that he felt the most comfortable with. It was true that he had got to know him best of all because of the tracker's enforced stay at the ranch but it was more than that. Although their backgrounds were very different they found they had a lot in common and James was eager to nurture the friendship with someone of his own age. That was part of the reason for this ride; if the Texan had still been at the ranch James would have taken the opportunity to discuss his problem with him. He knew that his family, in particular his sister, would never understand why he was considering moving on but it was something he needed to do. During his convalescance Vin had spoken at length about his father and what little he actually remembered about his childhood, and James sensed that the tracker was not usually so open. James felt that the Texan would have understood his restlessness and listened to his dilemma, but in his absence he had no choice but to try and work it out for himself.

Suddenly the young doctor realised that tiny white flakes glistened on his horse's mane and he looked up to find that the long threatened snow was finally starting to fall. It was barely a dusting at the moment but he recalled Vin's warning that the winters here could be harsh and a snowfall could become deep and dangerous in a very short space of time. Reining in his mount, James looked around and discovered that he had been so deep in thought that he had ridden further than he had intended. He gave a little smile; it was time to be heading back, otherwise Lia would be sending out the search parties.

Within about ten minutes the snow was coming down heavier and he urged his sorrel into a fast trot, conscious of the fact that the trail he was following dropped away slightly to his left. As he concentrated on keeping his skittish mount on the level path and away from the slippery slope, James almost rode past the three horses fastened in the shelter of a small stand of trees at the bottom of the incline. If his own gelding had not a whickered a greeting, and received one in reply, he would have passed by without a second glance.

Curiosity made Owen stop and as he looked down through the swirling snow he thought he could see three figures moving just beyond the horses. Mindful of the previous attacks on the ranch, caution kept him silent as he tried to see who they were. A sudden gust of wind blew aside the curtain of snow, and James was alarmed to see the men looking up at him. Even as he watched he saw one of them make a dash for his horse and fearing pursuit or capture James kicked his own into motion, heedless of the treacherous surface underfoot.

He had barely gone a few yards when he heard the flat bark of a rifle and felt the numbing pain as something heavy slammed into his body, pitching him forward in the saddle. Snatching at the gelding's mane as he lost his balance James tried to remain on the animal's back but his fingers would not grip and he found himself tumbling onto the hard ground as his horse galloped on riderless.

For what seemed like an eternity he lay there, gasping as the searing agony ripped through him and he knew he had to move or be caught. Gathering together the last remnants of his ebbing strength James Owen dragged himself off of the trail and into the shelter of a clump of bushes. Tucked into the undergrowth and believing he was safely hidden from his attacker he slumped down and curled himself into a ball in an attempt to remain warm but an icy chill was already creeping through his body as his tenuous grasp on consciousness slipped away.

His last thought as he plummeted into the welcoming blackness that kept the pain at bay was how angry Amelia would be with him for missing lunch.

Nathan was just leaving the stage-line office as Chris and Vin came along the boardwalk.

"What you got there?" the gunslinger asked, eyeing the small package in the healer's hand.

"It's summat for James. I said I'd collect it for him. Thought mebbe I'd ride out and give it to him seeing as it's pretty quiet at the moment." Nathan had seen Will Tanner when he had come into Four Corners for supplies just over ten days ago, and the healer had promised to pick up the package when it arrived.

"Reckon I might come wit' ya," Vin suggested. Nathan saw the scowl that darkened Chris' face at the tracker's words but there was nothing the gunslinger could say.

"I'll be glad o'the company." The healer had noticed that Vin had been a little reticent around the gunslinger lately and seemed to have something on his mind, but he knew better than to press him on the matter. Therefore he had not been that surprised by the tracker's offer to accompany him.

"Please yourself. You usually do." Chris made the sharp comment and then turned and walked away. Nathan watched him go and heard Vin give a heavy sigh.

"What's eatin' him?" he asked.

"Probably me," Vin replied lowering his gaze. For a while things between him and Chris had almost been back to normal but ever since his father had outlined his plans for the future the tracker had found himself treading warily around the gunslinger, afraid that he would discover Vin's inner turmoil.

Apart from Josiah, the other peacekeepers were unaware of the important decision he had to make, and as he and Nathan walked down to the Livery the young Texan felt that this was the ideal opportunity ti discuss it further with his father. Maybe then he would be able to finally make up his mind whether to go or stay.

Ben Richardson was helping a couple of his hands with the construction of a new barn for the stallion when he saw the peacekeepers arrive and he hurried across the yard to meet them.

"Vin. Nathan. What brings you out here?"

"I got a parcel for James." The healer swung down from his horse and brushed the snow from his coat. It had started falling a few minutes ago, not much but enough to settle lightly on the cold ground. "Summat wrong?" he asked, seeing the concerned frown on the Englishman's face.

"Well, it's probably nothing... James went out for a ride some time ago, and he's not back yet. What with the snow and everything else that's happened... " Ben let his words trail off, trying to hide just how worried he was.

"Reckon he's got enough sense t'know when t'come back," Vin told him as he dismounted from his gelding, remembering some of the conversations he had had with James whilst he had been staying at the ranch.

"I'm sure you're right." Ben forced a smile to his face. "Why don't you get your horses settled and join us for lunch? Mrs Roberts has made enough hot-pot to feed an army!"

As Vin and Nathan led their horses to the small corral by the bunkhouse the tracker glanced around but he could see no sign of his father. He was a little disappointed but not altogether surprised; with the worst of the winter weather coming on there was a lot to be done around the ranch to safeguard the livestock. However, he would make a point of seeking him out before they left.

Ben was waiting on the porch for them when they returned and he ushered them into the house.

"Go straight through to the dining room," he said as they placed their hats on the hall table. "Amy's already there. I'll go and tell Mrs Roberts she can serve lunch now."

Nathan followed Vin through the drawing room, oddly silent and empty now after the festivities of the Christmas period, and Amelia Richardson greeted them warmly even though the healer could see that she seemed slightly distracted.

"Vin, how are you?"

"I'm fine, ma'am. Yer sure we ain't imposing?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow in silent amusement as the tracker carefully pronounced the last word and he wondered whether he had been spending too much time with Ezra lately.

"No, no. It's no trouble. You know how Mrs Roberts loves to cook. Come and sit down."

"Seems real quiet in here, ma'am," Nathan commented as they sat down at the table to wait. "Where're the children?"

"Upstairs. They're having their lunch in the nursery with Constance." Amelia paused, and a faint smile curved her lips. "It's funny, but she seems to have changed since Christmas."

"Changed? How d'ya mean?" The healer frowned, hoping that the woman was not ill.

"She's more... relaxed, happier." She shook her head. "I can't explain it."

Nathan glanced across at Vin as the tracker gave him a knowing wink and he looked down so Amelia could not see the grin on his face. It appeared as if Buck had had some success after all. He had certainly been in a buoyant mood when they had returned to Four Corners after Christmas.

Just then Ben came in followed by Mrs Roberts who was pushing a small trolley laden with a large tureen and a number of soup dishes. As she wheeled it around next to Amelia's chair she gave the young tracker an indulgent smile.

"I knew you couldn't stay away too long," she said fondly and the Texan grinned.

"Reckon I missed yer cookin' too much after all," he replied, watching appreciatively as she ladled two dumplings into his dish. "Thank ya, ma'am."

As Mrs Roberts passed Nathan his dish the healer could not fail to notice that he had only received one and that his portion was considerably smaller. He shook his head wryly; it was obvious who was the favoured one around here.

The talk around the table was mainly focussed on the re-building of the barn and the fact that very little had been discovered about the perpetrators of the attack. Ben noticed that his wife had barely touched her stew and reached out to gently squeeze her hand.

"He'll be back soon, Amy." Richardson spoke softly but Amelia jumped as she realised she had been caught clock-watching and she forced a smile.

"I'm sorry," she apologised as she rose to her feet. "Would you like some more? Nathan?"

"That's mighty kind of ya, ma'am. This is real good."

Nathan held his dish out as Amelia lifted the lid from the tureen but then she suddenly gasped and the heavy china cover slipped from her fingers to shatter on the floor.

"Amy? Are you alright?" Ben spoke as all three men scrambled to their feet but it was Nathan who asked the obvious question as he saw she was clutching her hands tightly to her chest.

"Did ya burn yerself, ma'am?"

The Englishwoman looked at him for a moment in confusion, her features pale and strained.

"No... I... " Amelia got no further. She simply turned and fled from the room, leaving the men staring at each other in perplexed silence.

"Er... umm... Excuse me a moment." Ben finally found his voice, slightly embarrassed by his wife's uncharacteristic actions and followed her from the room. The two peacekeepers looked at each other and sat back down, perturbed by the strange turn of events.

"What was all that about?" Vin asked, but Nathan shook his head.

"I don't rightly know, but she seemed pretty upset." The healer frowned as he spoke, feeling slightly uneasy. The anxious look on Amelia's face made him recall a conversation he had had with James about Chris and Vin and the bond they shared. The young doctor had likened it to the link he had with his twin sister and the fact that they always seemed to know when anything was wrong with the other. Nathan sincerely hoped that there was nothing more ominous in James' late return than simply forgetting the time. Ben returned a few minutes later, his face showing his worry.

"Is she alright?" Nathan asked, and Richardson gave a wan smile as he tried to put a brave face on it.

"Yes. She's just concerned about James. She has been all morning." He sighed. "I think she was hoping he'd be back by now."

"Maybe we could take a ride out n'see where he is," Vin suggested, but Ben declined the offer.

"No, it's okay. He'll be back soon. Amy apologises, but she's a little tired. I think the strain is finally catching up with her."

"Ya could be right."

Ben nodded absently at the healer's words and then he visibly shook himself. "I'm sorry, Nathan. Would you like some more lunch? No sense in letting it go to waste."

Nathan politely refilled his dish but he merely picked at the food as Ben sat in thoughtful silence, not even acknowledging one of the kitchen girls as she came to clear away the broken shards of china. The sombre atmosphere stretched on a little longer until Roberts had brought in and served the coffee.

"Will that be all, sir?" he asked as he placed a cup on the table in front of Ben, and Richardson nodded.

"Yes, thank you. This is fine." He waited until Roberts had gone and then he looked at the two peacekeepers. "I'm sorry. I'm not being a very good host. It's just that James really should have been back by now."

"If yer that worried mebbe we should take a look around." Vin made the offer again, but before Ben could reply Roberts suddenly came back into the room, a serious expression on his face as he crossed over and spoke softly to Richardson.

"Mr Tanner's outside on the porch. He'd like an urgent word with you."

"Well, send him in," Ben ordered a little exasperated, but Roberts seemed hesitant.

"He insists on speaking to you outside." The butler paused and glanced at Vin and Nathan before he continued. "It's Doctor Owen's horse."

"James is back?" Ben climbed to his feet eagerly, his voice filled with relief.

"No, sir. Just the horse."

Richardson went white but Vin and Nathan were up and out of the door before he could move. The implications of a riderless horse hit them a shade quicker that it did Ben, but the Englishman was right behind them.

Will Tanner was holding the reins of the blowing sorrel gelding as he ran his left hand down the animal's forelegs checking for any sign of injury, but he straightened up as Ben approached.

"He came in just a minute ago," Tanner explained. "Looks like he's been runnin' hard."

Vin gave his father a brief nod of acknowledgement as he stepped round to the offside of the horse and then he suddenly stopped, reaching up to run his hand across the saddle.

"Nathan." The tracker rubbed his fingers together and then held them up to reveal the red stain that smeared them.

"Oh my God!" Ben breathed as he stared in horror at the blood on the young Texan's hand. "Amy was right!"

"Let's get the horses." There was no hesitation from Vin nor from Richardson.

"I'm coming with you."

"You go ahead, Vin. I'll wait here wit' Ben." Nathan could see that the man was shaken but there was something they needed to know and he placed a steadying hand on the Englishman's shoulder. "D'ya have any idea where James was goin'?"

"No. He never said. Just that he wouldn't be long."

"Don't worry Ben. We'll find him."

Richardson took a deep breath, his face betraying his fears as he turned to Roberts who was standing silently behind them.

"Would you tell Mrs Richardson where we've gone, and make sure she's alright?"

"Of course, sir."

"And, Roberts... ? Don't mention Doctor Owen's horse." The butler nodded gravely and went back into the house, and Ben rubbed his hand wearily across his face. "Amy knew something was wrong. What in God's name's happened to him, Nathan?"

As the two Texans hurried across to the corral it was Will who spoke first.

"Glad to see ya, son. I knew ya were here when I saw yer horse."

"Came out t'talk t'ya about what ya said, but it can wait. We gotta find James." Vin had been mulling over his dilemma for more than a week now, but his problem seemed trivial in the light of what might have happened to James Owen.

"Looks bad don't it, boy?" Will said, unconsciously echoing his son's thoughts.

"Yeah it does."

Just over ten minutes later they were leading back the four horses plus a spare which Ben eyed curiously.

"I thought it best to fetch an extra one," Will explained. "If the doc's afoot he'll need it."

"Reckon it'll be best if we split up," Nathan suggested. "We ain't sure where he went."

"No wait! I think I know," Will suddenly put in. "When I was coming back I saw him on the trail leading up to the north pasture. Don't reckon he saw me though."

"Then that's where we'll start," Ben stated grimly.

The wind was whipping the fallen snow into small drifts as the four men made their way slowly along the narrow trail that wound northwards with Ben calling his brother-in-law's name as they went, but the gusts snatched the words from his lips and tore them apart in the frigid air.

"James! James!"

They were riding in single file with Will Tanner at the front when the man suddenly brought his horse to a stop.

"Will? What is it?" Ben called out fearfully. He was behind the two Texan's and could not see what had caused them to halt.

Vin dropped from his black and hurried forward, his heart pounding as he saw the shape sprawled in the snow. Falling to his knees the young tracker felt as though the breath were being squeezed from his chest as his eyes refused to believe what he was seeing. James Owen lay face down, a faint dusting of snow already covering his still form, but it could not hide the bullet wound in the middle of his back. Even before he turned him over Vin knew he was dead and he felt the grief starting to give way to anger. With all the problems Ben Richardson had been having no-one could have foreseen this.

"Dear Lord!" The anguished words came from Nathan as he stood behind Vin, watching as the tracker gently eased the body over. He could see that there was nothing he could do - there was nothing any of them could do now - but the sense of waste for a life that promised so much was overwhelming.

"Nooo!!" The healer was brushed aside as Ben stumbled past him, falling to his knees and gathering the limp body into his arms. "James. James. Come on, wake up!"

"I'm sorry, Ben. He's gone." Nathan dropped a hand onto the distraught man's shoulder and Richardson looked up at him in despair.

"You've got to do something, Nathan!"

"I wish I could." The words seemed totally inadequate, unable to convey the healer's true feelings. The young doctor had not deserved to die like this, alone and so far from home, and there was nothing he could do to ease Ben's pain.

"Y'alright, son?" Will Tanner asked the question as Vin stood silently observing the grieving Englishman, not even reacting when the older man gripped his arm in sympathy. Instead he simply brushed it off and walked forward, studying the ground carefully as he tried to read exactly how the tragedy had unfolded. Crouching down at the edge of the trail, he fingered the lower branches of the bushes that grew along the side.

"Looks like he tried to hide under here." Vin ignored his father's solicitous comment as he indicated the marks in the snow and the bent foliage. Then he looked beyond that to where Ben Richardson still cradled the body to his chest. The tracks were deeper there and more scuffed, and he was tight-lipped with anger as he realised what had happened. "The bastards must have dragged him out and left him here to die!" he said bitterly, looking up at his father.

"Reckon yer right, boy," Will agreed grimly and looked around. The fallen snow had obliterated any tracks that there might have been, making pursuit or any hope of identification impossible.

"Vin." The tracker straightened up as Nathan came forward. "Someone's gotta tell Chris. I figgered it'd be best if we took the body into town, but Ben wants to take James home."

"Ya go ahead, Nathan. I'll go get Chris."

"It's a long ride. Ya want some company, son?" Tanner made the offer but Vin shook his head.

"No, I'll be fine." The tracker waited as Nathan and Will wrapped the body of James Owen in a blanket and carefully secured it across the saddle of the spare horse. Then without another word Vin swung into the saddle of his black gelding and rode away.

Tanner watched as his son left, his shoulders heavy with grief, and then he turned back to Ben who was still standing staring at the body in shocked disbelief.

"i'm real sorry, Mr Richardson. I wish I'd o'stopped him when I saw him earlier."

Ben scarcely heard a word the Texan said. The only thing that was going through his mind now was how he was going to tell Amy that her beloved twin was dead.

Vin did not remember much of the ride back to Four Corners, nor when the snow started to fall lightly once more. His mind was caught and held by the senseless killing of James Owen, a man who had wanted nothing more than to help people. The tracker owed his life to the Englishman's skill and care, but more than that the doctor was a good friend, and Vin felt the death of a friend keenly.

He slipped from the back of his mount outside the jailhouse but there was nobody there, so he hurried along to the next obvious point of call. Pushing aside the batwing doors to the saloon he could see Chris, Buck, and Ezra sitting around a table indulging in a game of poker whilst Josiah and JD watched over their shoulders. There was the sudden sound of raucous laghter from Buck as Chris scooped up the pot, but it was the eagle-eyed gambler who saw the Texan first.

"Why, Mr Tanner, you look like you've lost a sizeable amount of money much the same as I have just done to our esteemed leader!" the Southerner exclaimed. Chris turned round and smiled at the tracker, but his amusement faded when he saw the solemn look on Vin's face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly serious..

"James Owen is dead."

Those four words dropped amongst the peacekeepers like a bombshell, and Chris surged to his feet, his face shocked.

"Dead? What happened?"

"He was killed by some low-down, back-shootin' bastard!" Vin almost spat the words out, his voice sharp and brittle.

"Jesus!" The hiss of anger came from Buck, but it was Josiah who stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the tracker's shoulder.

"Where'd this happen, son?" The ex-preacher could see that Vin was very upset but they needed to know the details. Taking a deep breath, the young Texan told them how James had failed to return from his morning ride and how they had gone looking for him when his horse had come back to the ranch on its own. Ezra pressed a large whiskey into his friend's hand as he faltered, and Vin downed it in one gulp.

"What're we standing around for? Let's get after them!" JD's enthusiasm was curbed by Buck's voice of reason.

"There's no point, kid. The snow will've covered any tracks by now." The ladies man glanced at Vin and received a quick nod in reply.

"We'd best get out to the ranch." Chris had been dangerously quiet for the last few minutes, his jaw clenched tight with anger. "Buck? You coming?"

"Ya just try and stop me."

"Need t'get meself a fresh horse," Vin said as the two peacekeepers moved towards the door.

"You don't have'ta come back with us." Chris could see how tired and distraught his friend was, but the young tracker shook his head.

"Yeah I do. I owe him that much."

The three peacekeepers made good time getting back to the Richardson's ranch despite the fading light and the snow which was now falling harder. A sombre-faced Nathan emerged onto the porch to meet them as they dismounted in front of the house, and a couple of Ben's hands hurried across to take the horses for them.

"Glad ya made it back afore nightfall. Ya musta ridden hard." The healer was grateful for his friends presence; he had not been looking forward to dealing with the grieving household by himself.

"How're they taking it?" Chris asked the question as they stepped inside out of the cold.

"Pretty badly." Nathan sounded fairly shaken himself. "Ben's upstairs with Amelia now. I've given her summat t'calm her down."

Nathan could still recall the woman's reaction when she had finally summoned up the courage to see her brother's body. Ben had ridden on ahead to prepare his wife for the worst, giving him and Tanner the chance to take James through to his bedroom. After a cursory examination both men had stripped and cleaned the body, and Nathan had stitched up the bullet wound.

The healer had just pulled a light sheet over the corpse when Ben and Amelia entered the room. The Englishwoman had been white-faced and tight-lipped but calm as she stepped forward, reaching out a shaking hand to pull the sheet down. There was no sign of tears as she gently smoothed back the hair from his brow and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the cold forehead. Nathan held his breath as she murmured a few inaudible words of farewell to her brother, and then she turned and buried her face against Ben's shoulder as he led her out.

"What about the kids? Do they know?" Buck's thoughts turned to Emily and Edward, realising that they would be confused and upset without knowing why.

"They know their mama's upset, but Miz Bartlett is taking care of them."

"Good, good." The ladies man turned to Chris. "Think we oughta pay our respects, don't you?"

The gunslinger nodded and Nathan led them down the hallway and through to James' bedroom. All three men removed their hats as they solemnly regarded the shrouded form on the bed.

"Dammit! It's such a waste." Buck shook his head sadly. "He weren't much older than JD."

"We'll get whoever did this." Chris could not hide the suppressed anger in his voice and Buck nodded in agreement. Up until now it was obvious that whoever was behind the previous attacks had simply been trying to scare the family off of the property. However, with the murder of James Owen events had taken on a more ominous and deadly. A moments silence fell on the room as each of them recalled their own personal memories of the Englishman whose life had so cruelly been taken.

Just then there was a discreet knock on the half-open door and Nathan turned as Charles Roberts appeared and spoke quietly to him, and the healer nodded as the butler withdrew.

"There's coffee an' brandy in the drawing room if yer interested," Nathan told them. "Ben'll be down in a while."

Buck and Chris started to follow Nathan out but the gunslinger paused when he realised that Vin was not moving.

"Hey, pard. You okay?" The tracker did not reply and Chris stepped forward and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Vin?"

"It's all my fault." The young Texan's comment was full of self-reproach and Chris blinked in surprise.

"What'd'ya mean?"

"I tried to make 'im carry a gun but he wouldn't. Said he wanted t'save lives, not take 'em." Vin sounded totally wretched as he continued to stare at the covered form. "Look where it's got 'im."

"Carrying a gun wouldn't've made a difference, Vin. He was shot in the back. There's no defence against that."

"Maybe I shoulda done more." The tracker sighed, and Chris gave his shoulder an understanding squeeze.

"Come on. Let's go find a drink."

Nathan and Buck were already sipping at their coffees when the other two peacekeepers entered the drawing room. Chris looked around but there was no sign of Richardson, but he was not unduly worried. He knew that the Englishman would not leave his distressed wife until he was ready. The gunslinger poured coffee for himself and Vin and then wandered across to the window, peering out into the main yard. Even in the dark he could see the snow settling on the ground and he was glad they had made it out to the ranch before the weather worsened.

Chris could hear Nathan talking to Vin and he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the grim-faced tracker and he could not help thinking that his friend would not be alive now if it was not for James Owen. The gunslinger could not put a price on what he and the others owed the Englishman but all they could do now was find his killer.

Suddennly Chris heard the sound of raised voices in the hallway and as he put down his coffee cup to investigate the front door was slammed with some force. Charles Roberts was standing in the hall looking somewhat flustered as he stared at the door.

"What's going on?" the gunslinger asked.

"It's Mr Richardson, sir. He's gone out to the stables. I think he intends to ride out somewhere."

"Aw shit!" Chris swore vehemently but in a way he could understand what Ben was going through. Rational thought did not apply at a time like this. "Don't worry. I'll stop him."

The gunslinger stepped out onto the porch pulling his black duster tightly around him against the cold as he made his way through several inches of snow to the main barn. A lantern hung on a hook just inside the door and he could see Ben Richardson in the nearest stall fitting the bridle on his horse.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

Richardson ignored him and simply carried on with what he was doing and the gunslinger stepped into the stall and grabbed the man's arm, pulling him round to face him.

"Get off me!" the Englishman snapped, thrusting Chris back against the partition.

"Ben, it's - " The gunslinger never finished the sentence as Richatdson cut him off, his face white with anger.

"You call yourselves peacekeepers? Where were you when James was killed? Sitting comfortably in the saloon with your feet up no doubt." Richardson stepped forward, his face scant inches from Chris. "You said you wanted to help. Well, I don't need your kind of help. I'll find the murdering bastard by myself if I have to!"

Chris could feel his own short temper rising, but he forced himself to hold it in check. It was shock and grief that was making the man act this way and the gunslinger could remember being in that same position only a few.years ago.

"What are you hoping to find? It's dark and it's snowing hard. All you're gonna do is risk your own life."

"Well, it's better than doing nothing!"

Chris could hear the helplessness in Ben's voice and see the anger and frustration on his face but he had to make him see reason.

"I know what you're goin' through," he admitted slowly, and Ben glanced at him sharply.

"You do? How?"

The gunslinger hesitated for a moment; the past was not something that he enjoyed discussing but under the circumstances he felt that it was probably necessary.

"My wife and son were murdered a few years back. They were inour house when it was burned to the ground," he said softly, taking a deep breath before continuing. "For a long time all I wanted was revenge any way I could get it, but it don't do no good. Even when you find the person responsible, the pain doesn't go away."

Richardson stared at Chris, seeing the memories that still haunted his life, and he could feel some of the anger draining out of him. He had not realised that the gunslinger bore such a heavy burden and he felt a little ashamed of his earlier outburst.

"I know it's hard, but you gotta think about Amelia and the children. They need you now, more than ever."

There was a long silence and Ben backed away, his shoulders slumping as he lowered his gaze.

"She blames me, you know, and perhaps she's right," he stated softly. "Maybe I should have stopped him when she asked me to." Ben would never forget the look on his wife's face when he had ridden in ahead of the others. She had been standing on the porch waiting, but he never had the chance to tell her.

'He's dead, isn't he?' was all she had said to him, and he could only nod mutely as he gathered her to him. However, her calmness had only lasted until after she had seen her brother's body. By the time he had got her up to their room she was almost hysterical with grief, and Nathan had given her a mild sedative to calm her down.

Richardson had stayed with her after she had cried herself to sleep, not even thinking to check on the children, but he was not prepared for her bitter accusations when she awoke some hours later from her uneasy doze.

'This is all your fault. If you had sold this place when you had the chance my brother would still be alive.' Ben had tried to reason with her but she had pushed him away, screaming at him to get out of her sight.

"Everybody needs someone else to blame," Chris told him. "Sometimes that's the only way we can deal with it." He placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get in out o'the cold."

Richardson gave a sigh of resignation as he removed the bridle from his horse and the two men - alike yet unalike - walked back to the house through the swirling snow.

Part Seven

The funeral of Doctor James Owen took place on the last Sunday in January, four days after his body had been discovered on the trail to the north pasture.

Despite her grief and distress Amelia Richardson had made it perfectly clear that she wanted her brother buried at the ranch, the last place he had called home. Both Nathan and Ben had expressed their doubts about the choice of James' final resting place but Amelia was adamant and in the end they had acquiesced to her wishes. It was decided that the walled garden would be the most suitable place. In addition to it being directly overlooked by the rooms James had occupied in life, it had the extra security of being secluded and protected from unwanted trespassers and animals.

Once the arrangements had been finalised Buck had ridden back to Four Corners to inform the other peacekeepers and Mary Travis, and any of the towns people who might want to come and pay their last respects to the young doctor. On hearing the tragic news Josiah had ridden out to the ranch immediately to offer spiritual comfort to the grieving family and to consecrate the ground in readiness for the burial. Ben's hands had rallied round and cleared the garden area in preparation for the internment, and Tom Steen had fashioned a suitable coffin for a man they had all grown to like and respect.

The Sunday dawned crisp and clear, the sky a bright cloudless blue and even the frost had disappeared by the time the mourners arrived from town. By half-past eleven everyone was congregated in the walled garden. Amelia Richardson, heavily veiled to hide her deep sorrow, was supported by her husband as they waited for the service to begin. To Ben's right Constance Bartlett comforted their two children, an arm around each of them as they clutched at her skirt, bewildered and upset.

Mary Travis stood to Amelia's left and a few paces back with JD and Ezra. The newspaperwoman had been devastated to learn of the young doctor's murder, and she had written a heartwrenching account of James' untimely and violent death in the latest edition of The Clarion. At Ben's request - the Englishman had given a letter to Buck when he had returned to town - Mary had placed a notice in the paper offering a substantial reward for the capture and conviction of James Owen's killer but so far nothing had come to light.

Alongside Mary and the peacekeepers were Mr and Mrs Roberts with the two kitchen girls, and some of the more prominent business people from Four Corners. Opposite them on the other side of the open grave, Will Tanner and all of the ranchhands stood in respectful silence, with heads bowed and their hats in their hands.

At a pre-arranged signal from Josiah James Owen made his final journey from the house, his coffin carried by the four peacekeepers who knew him best. All of them were bare-headed and sombre as they slowly walked forward but with Chris and Vin there was also an underlying air of anger. Placing the coffin carefully on the planks covering the open grave they stepped back as the ex-preacher opened his prayer book and began to read.

"I am the resurrection and the life, sayeth the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whoever liveth and beliveth in me shall never die," he intoned solemnly. As he continued with the service Josiah became aware of the sound of low sobbing as Amelia Richardson wept for her twin. A little further along both Mary and Mrs Roberts pressed handkerchiefs to their faces as they tried unsuccessfully to hold back their own tears. Closing his prayer book the ex-preacher glanced around at the people gathered in the walled garden.

"Just over four months ago James Owen came to this country with his family in search of a new beginning. They came with hope and expectations but they found the path to their own particular promised land blocked by violence and intimidation." Like his fellow peacekeepers Josiah felt a strong sense of anger at the senseless waste of a young life that had promised so much, and he could not keep the emotion from his words. "Amelia and Ben have lost a cherished member of their family and that loss can never be replaced, and his friends share their grief as they also mourn his tragic passing. Some of you only knew James as a quiet, caring, sensitive person, but there are others in this gathering who owe him more than can ever be repaid."

Chris saw Josiah's gaze pause on Vin, and he glanced sideways at the young tracker. He watched as his friend bowed his head, biting his lip as he tried to keep his sorrow and anger in check. The gunslinger knew that his own feelings echoed those of the Texan and he was painfully aware that without James' skill as a doctor Vin would not be standing beside him now. That was a debt that Chris would never be able to repay in this life or the next.

"James never had the chance to realise his full potential, but the loss of this vibrant, caring soul is the Lord's gain." Josiah lowered his head as he began to recite the 23rd Psalm before asking the mourners to join him saying the Lord's Prayer. As the murmured 'Amen' died away the four peacekeepers gathered up the ropes and took the strain of the coffin, two of Ben's hands coming forward to remove the planks of wood from beneath it.

"Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery," Josiah began as his friends started to lower the coffin into the grave. "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the sould of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground." Josiah reached down and picked up a handful of soil, trickling it slowly over the coffin as he spoke the last part of the service. "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain knowledge of the Resurrection."

Ben Richardson followed his lead, scooping up more of the freshly dug earth and dropping it onto the coffin of his brother-in-law. White petals fluttered slowly down as several small blooms from a wild dog-rose were also dropped into the grave by Amelia, and she leaned heavily against her husband for support as the grief and emotion became too much for her to bear.

Josiah bowed his head in silent prayer as Ben led the inconsolable Englishwoman back into the house followed slowly by the other mourners, some of them pausing to drop their own handfuls of earth into the grave. Ezra brushed the dirt from his fingers as he showed his respect and he offered his arm to the weeping Mary, but Chris and Vin remained where they were standing as some of the hands began to fill the grave in.

"Vin?" Chris placed a hand on the young Texan's shoulder as his friend continued to stare down at James Owen's grave.

"We gotta find the bastards that did this, Chris." The tracker's voice was low, filled with barely suppressed anger as his hands clenched into fists.

"We will," the gunslinger vowed, and then he looked up as he became aware of someone watching them. Josiah was just going back into the house but Will Tanner lingered, his eyes fixed on his son as he waited for Vin to join him. Then his gaze shifted to Chris Larabee, and the fury in the gunslinger's cold stare made him reconsider. With so many emotions simmering dangerously close to the surface he had no wish to repeat his earlier quarrels with the black-dressed peacekeeper. Without a word he turned on his heel and followed Josiah.

The atmosphere in the drawing room was vastly different from the last time that JD had been here. As the young peacekeeper stood alone beside the hearth sipping on a glass of wine, he found himself remembering another funeral that had touched and changed his life forever.

His mother might only have been a servant in the big house back East but they had marked her passing with affection and respect. The sombre mood was exactly the same but whilst his mother had succumbed to a life-threatening illness, the murder of James Owen was simply baffling. JD could think of no reason why anyone would want to harm him; even though he had not known the doctor as well as some of his friends he could see no motive for the senseless murder. During the previous attacks on the property none of the family had been seriously hurt. Could it be that James had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Looking around the room he could see the way people had congregated into little groups, talking quietly as they drank and picked at the food that had been laid out by the tearful servants. His gaze settled on Vin as he stood by the window talking with his father. The conversation seemed quite intense, the tracker nodding earnestly to something that the older man had said but then JD noticed Ben Richardson coming back into the room, walking across to join Buck and Chris.

"How's Amelia?" Buck asked as the Englishman reached for a glass of whiskey, and Ben downed the strong liquor in one go before replying.

"Not too good. I've left her upstairs with Nathan and Mary." He gave a heavy sigh. "I don't think she's ever going to get over losing him like this."

"You never do." Chris' voice was low as he remembered his own murdered family. The years might pass slowly by but the pain never really went away. There was a moments silence and then Ben looked grimly at the two peacekeepers.

"I think you ought to know that we've decided to sell up and move back east."

Buck looked surprised but it was Chris who answered. "So you're just giving up?" He sounded disappointed and a little angry.

"Giving up doesn't come into it," Richardson replied calmly. "Amy doesn't want to stay here now, and I'm terrified for my children. Surely you can understand that, Chris?"

The gunslinger looked away. Ben's remark had hit too close to home, and he had no answer to that.

"So when you planning on leaving?" Buck voiced the question when he saw the pain on his friend's face.

"As soon as I can get into town and put the place on the market. Of course Constance, Charles, and Annie will come with us but the rest of the staff and the hands will be paid off." There was regret in the Englishman's voice at the ending of his dream but his family were much more important than any vision he might have held for the future.

Chris looked up as Ben spoke about laying off the ranch-hands and he could not help glancing across to Vin and Will Tanner. Did the older Texan know? Was he intending to stay in Four Corners, and if he did how would this affect Vin? Even as he thought this the young tracker looked up and met his gaze but he looked away again quickly, the guilt evident in his blue eyes. Chris drew a sharp breath, wondering what his friend was trying to hide, and he was on the point of confronting him when Nathan came into the room to join them.

"Nathan?"

"She's resting for now," the healer replied to Ben's question. "Mary's gonna stay with her fer a while, and I've left a sleeping draught in case she needs it."

Nathan guessed that Amelia would not take the potion he had left. She had been strong up until today but now she was inconsolable in her loss and it was more than likely that she would cry herself to sleep. The healer was helpless; he himself felt the death of James Owen keenly, and there was nothing he could say or do to ease Amelia's pain.

"Vin? Did ya hear what I said?"

The tracker blinked at his father's question, tearing his gaze away from Chris. He had barely heard the older man's comments about being paid off; his attention had been focussed on the gunslinger and what he was thinking, and he knew Chris would not be happy with the choice he had just made to himself. That had been the main reason for him riding out with Nathan, but the death of James Owen had pushed everything else into the background.

Until now.

"I know this don't seem the time or place t'be asking, but I need t'know," Tanner went on. "I'll be movin' on real soon and I wanna know if yer gonna come wit' me."

Vin looked at his father, seeing the pleading in his eyes, and he knew what his decision would be but there was something Will Tanner needed to know first.

"I'll come wit' ya gladly, but... "

"Yer worried 'bout the bounty on yer head," Tanner finished for him, and Vin's jaw dropped open in astonishment. He had never told his father about the five hundred dollar reward on his head and he was amazed that the man knew.

"But.. how... ?"

"Told ya before, boy. I bin lookin' for ya fer a long time. I made it m'business t'find out all about ya. " Tanner smiled. "I knew all about the reward afore I found ya an' it don't make a heap o' difference t'me. I know ya ain't no killer."

For a long moment Vin did not reply. Everything Chris had worried about - the gunslinger's fear that Tanner was only after the bounty - seemed totally unfounded now and it made the tracker's decision that much easier. Despite this he knew that Chris would still try to put obstacles in his way but at least now he was certain.

"Me'n Chris always intended to go back to Tascosa t'clear m'name, but... "

"We can do it together if ya want. Just you and me. Then nothing'll stand in our way."

Vin looked at his father long and hard. He had never imagined himself settling down because the price on his head meant he would be constantly looking over his shoulder, neccessity and his own restless spirit driving him from place to place. He had stayed in Four Corners longer than he had intended, mainly because of the companionship he had found with Chris Larabee and the others but now he had the chance of a new life with real family. It was not an opportunity he was going to give up easily.

+ + + + + + +

Two days later Ben Richardson made good his promise and came into town to put his ranch up for sale. As he stepped out of the Land Office he saw Chris and Vin walking along the boardwalk and he waited for them to come closer.

"Well, it's done," he said as the two peacekeepers stopped in front of him. "The place is up for sale and Mr Reynold's doesn't think it'll be too long before he finds a buyer."

"Sorry it had to come to this, Ben." Chris knew there was no point in trying to dissuade the Englishman. Under the circumstances he would probably have done the same thing himself.

"So am I." Richardson sounded downcast, and he appeared to have aged considerably over the last few days. There were worry lines about his eyes and mouth that had not been there before. He sighed. "Emily keeps asking for her Uncle James. I just don't know what to say to her."

"What about Amelia?" Vin asked, trying not to think about the confused little girl.

"She seems to be getting worse each day." Ben rubbed wearily at his brow, unable to look at either man. James' death seemed to have taken all the fight out of Amelia, and the strong willed woman he had married had faded to a shadow of her former self. Ever since the funeral she had kept to her room, barely eating and hardly talking to anyone, not even the children. "I thank God for Constance," he went on fervently. "She has been an absolute blessing with Edward and Emily!"

Chris regarded the man for a moment and then took a deep breath. "I wish there was more we could have done," he said at length.

"I'm not blaming you," Ben replied. "I know I might have said some things I shouldn't... " He paused, thinking back to the time in the stable when he had flung accusations at the black-dressed gunslinger. "Your friendship has meant a lot to me. It's meant a lot to all of us, and it's something I'll never forget." He held out his hand to Chris and then to Vin. "I'd better be getting back now, but I'll see you all before we leave."

The two peacekeepers watched as Ben unfastened the sorrel gelding from the hitching rail and swung into the saddle.

"Don't seem right fer a family t'have so much trouble heaped on 'em," Vin said softly as Ben Richardson rode away.

"It ain't over!" Chris stated emphatically. "We'll get the people who did this." The gunslinger sounded more confident than he felt; there had been no response to the reward posted in The Clarion and he was beginning to think that there never would be. The person or persons responsible seemed to have vanished from the Territory. It was bitterly frustrating to think that whoever had decided to run the Richardson's off of their property had succeeded with such devastating consequences and despite their protection. "I think I need a drink."

"Reckon that's a good idea."

As they started to make their way towards the saloon Chris kept thinking about what Ben had said and what was going to happen to the ranch once the Richardsons had gone.

"So what'll your pa do now?" The gunslinger had to ask the question, the word 'pa' almost sticking in his throat, and he missed the look of dismay on Vin's face. The tracker stopped, not daring to look at Chris. He had been dreading this moment ever since he had made his decision and he had been wondering exactly how he was going to tell the gunslinger.

"He's bin thinkin' 'bout moving on fer a while now, even before all this happened. He's got some money saved up to buy a little place of his own." Now the tracker did look at his friend. "I'm going with him, Chris."

Chris Larabee felt numb as he stared back at the Texan. All along he had thought this moment would come, but he had been hoping that Vin's decision would be different. He thought back to the guilty look at James Owen's funeral and he should have realised then that the tracker had made his choice, but he was still denying it.

"Was gonna tell ya but I ain't had the chance." Vin's words came out in a rush. "He's family, Chris, and it's what I wanna do. I know ya don't think much of him, but it's my decision."

Chris continued to stare at him, and then a slow mocking smile crept over his face. "So you're gonna be a farmer's boy? Ploughing fields and tending sheep?" The gunslinger raised an eyebrow in query. "That ain't for you, Vin. You're not the settling kind."

"It was good enough fer you once." There was a bite to Vin's reply, and he felt angry at the way his friend was belittling him. "Why shouldn't I have that chance?"

"'Cos it ain't right." The gunslinger was clutching at straws now. "How long before you have to run? What are y'gonna tell him?"

"He knows about the bounty, Chris. Has done fer a-while. We're aiming to go to Tascosa. Clear m'name once an' fer all." Vin saw the hurt on his friend's face at that statement. That was something they had always planned to do together, but now someone else had usurped the gunslinger's place and there was nothing the tracker could do about it.

"Seems like you got it all worked out." Chris calmly forced the words out when all he wanted to do was beat some sense into his friend.

"I'm sorry, Chris, but I gotta take this chance." Vin tensed, waiting for the inevitable explosion that never came. The gunslinger looked him up and down, his gaze almost contemptuous.

"To hell with you then," he breathed, brushing past the tracker as though he wasn't there.

"Chris - wait!"

The gunslinger ignored him and Vin watched as he headed towards the Livery, feeling utterly miserable. He knew that Chris would take the news badly and he was prepared for an argument, but this was not how he imagined things would turn out.

+ + + + + + +

Chris Larabee swung the axe once again, feeling some of the tension drain from his body as the log split in half.

It had been four days since he had ridden from Four Corners after his altercation with Vin, four days in which the gunslinger had fumed and brooded on his friend's decision to leave. It was not the leaving that bothered him - he had always known that Vin was a free spirit, not fettered to a person or a place - but it was the person he was leaving with that made him so angry and fearful.

Chris knew that escaping to the haven of his small cabin in the hills was a rash, almost immature, reaction to Vin's news but he could not help himself. Retreat was his favourite solution to something that might cause him pain. Whether it was the solace of a bottle or the solitude of his own company, running away from a problem was a habit he could not easily break.

The gunslinger instinctively knew that Vin was making the biggest mistake of his life by trusting Will Tanner. Hell, for all he knew the decision could well cost the tracker his life. After all these months he still could not explain why he felt the way he did even though everybody else had accepted Tanner for who he was. What hurt the most was Vin's intention of going back to Tascosa with his father to try and clear his name. It had always been something that he had planned to do with the tracker; only days into their friendship Vin had confided in him about the bounty, and the trust shown to him by the young Texan had sealed the hitherto unbreakable bond between them.

Chris placed another log on the block and hefted the axe once more. However, this time the blade did not cut cleanly. A sliver of wood still joined the two halves and the gunslinger picked it up and studied it for a moment. Separating two lives would not be so easy either; Chris could not understand why he had let somebody back into his life, and he was angry with himself for letting his guard down but it was too late now. Vin Tanner had become an inextricable part of his very existence and he was not going to let him go without a fight.

Suddenly Buck's words came back to haunt him. 'You're afraid he's gonna take Vin away from you.' The ladies man had said that to him on the night that James Owen had operated on the seriously ill tracker and Chris had accused him of talking crap. But no matter how much he tried to deny it he was now ready to admit that Buck was right and his worst fears were coming true. However much he valued the easy companionship of Buck and the others, it was Vin's continued presence that had curbed his own wanderlust and given him purpose, and up until now he had not seen an end to it.

His mind made up Chris spiked the axe into the chopping block and walked back towards the cabin to wash and gather his belongings together. There was no point brooding about what might have been. This time he was going to confront his problems head on without running away. He owed Vin that much and he was determined to do his damndest to persuade his friend to stay.

+ + + + + + +

Most of the towns people watched silently as the procession of wagons moved slowly down the main street and came to a halt in front of the newspaper office. The Richardsons had sailed from England and come west with hopes and aspirations of a dream to fulfill, but that dream had turned into a tragic nightmare and the residents of Four Corners had turned out to bid them farewell as a mark of respect.

Mary Travis was waiting on the boardwalk with Chris, her expression sad and sombre as the wagons approached. Vin lounged against an upright a little further along, keeping his distance from the gunslinger. Ever since Chris had returned to town there had been a definite air of tension between the two friends, although neither mentioned Will Tanner's imminent departure. Ben Richardson stopped the lead wagon and tied the reins around the brake handle before climbing down.

"Didn't think you'd be going this soon," Chris said as he eyed the tight-lipped Englishman. "Thought you might at least waited until the weather improved."

"I was going to but Amy... " He paused, looking up at his wife as she sat hunched on the seat of the wagon. The woman looked frail and ill, a far cry from the happy, convivial hostess that had made Christmas such a pleasure. The death of her twin brother seemed to have drained all the vitality from her. "She can't bear to stay there any longer and to be honest I'm worried about her health."

"Which way you heading?" Chris asked.

"We'll be stopping at Eagle Bend for a few days, and then we'll head towards Boston. We're going to take it slow, stopping where we can along the way." Ben gestured towards the rear of the convoy. "Some of the hands are willing to come with us to handle the stock, so we'll have ample protection."

Chris looked back along the line, recognising Tom Steen and some of the younger men, but he was disapointed to find that Will Tanner was not amongst them. Almost in answer to the gunslinger's thoughts Ben Richardson turned to Vin.

"Your father's waiting for you at the ranch," he told the tracker. "But he said he's only going to wait for one day. Then he's leaving." Vin gave a tight nod, pointedly ignoring the glare that Chris threw in his direction as he leaned forward to shake the Englishman's hand. Then Ben stepped back to the wagon and drew a small bundle from under the seat. He gave his wife a brief smile as he walked up to Nathan, who was standing beside Josiah, and placed the package in his hands. "Amy wanted you to have these."

Nathan was speechless as he unwrapped the bundle and stared down in disbelief at the medical tomes he had admired in James' study.

"They were James' most treasured possessions," Ben told him. "And we know he would have wanted you to have them."

"Thank you," the healer forced out past the lump in his throat, and the Englishman nodded.

"God be with you, my friend." Josiah stepped forward and grasped Ben's hand. "I pray you find peace on your journey."

"Thank you." Richardson turned away and his gaze came to rest on Mary Travis. "Mary, I'd like to thank you for all you've done. You've been a good friend to Amy and I'm grateful for that."

"I'm so sorry it had to end this way." Mary was close to tears as she reached out and clasped Ben's hands in her own.

"So am I." The Englishman drew her forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he stepped back and regarded Chris solemnly. "I know you won't give up until you find James' killers, and I'd be grateful if you'd keep us informed once we're back in Boston."

"You got my word on that," the gunslinger stated.

"There's just one more thing before we go." Chris glanced up curiously as Ben gestured to one of the hands holding the horses in check. The man rode forward leading the pale grey Arab mare that the gunslinger had admired on his first visit to Richardson's ranch. "I'd like you to have her. Her name's Pasha." Ben could not help smiling at the stunned expression on the gunslinger's face. "I know she'll be in good hands and maybe some day she'll rekindle your dreams."

"I can't accept her, Ben." Chris was embarrassed by the Englishman's generosity. He had a very good idea of the value of such an animal.

"I won't take no for an answer." Richardson was equally determined. "You saved my life, Chris. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you." Chris shook the man's hand warmly as the mare was tied to the hitching rail. Ben looked over to JD, Ezra, and Buck and nodded in farewell before going back to the wagon and climbing up onto the seat. Mary came forward and stood beside Chris as Richardson gathered up the reins.

"You will write I hope?" she asked, and Ben nodded.

"As soon as we're settled," he promised. The Englishman flicked the reins over the horses backs and the wagon rolled forward. Chris watched grim-faced, angry that he had been unable to prevent the final tragedy that had forced the Richardsons off their land. Then he heard Mary swallow noisily and he realised the woman was crying. As she put a handkerchief up to her eyes the gunslinger slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in a rare display of affection. Like the peacekeepers Mary Travis had counted the family as good friends, especially Amelia, and they were all sorry to see them leave under such traumatic circumstances.

Whilst Ben was talking with Chris and Mary, Buck had been silently watching Constancce Bartlett as she sat on the second wagon with the two children. The governess did not acknowledge him until the driver urged his team forward to follow the lead wagon. Then she turned her startling silver-grey eyes to the ladies man and a regretful smile came to her lips as Buck politely tipped his hat in farewell. They had enjoyed their brief dalliance over Christmas but they both knew that it would have gone no further and they were content to leave it like that.

Mary and the peacekeepers continued to watch until the wagons diappeared from view and then she pulled out of the gunslinger's grasp as she felt him suddenly tense beside her.

"Chris? What's wrong?" She saw the way he was glancing around, obviously searching for something or someone.

"Excuse me, Mary."

It was only as the gunslinger turned and walked quickly away that she realised Vin Tanner was nowhere to be seen.

Chris was not entirely surprised that Vin had disappeared, but as he strode down the main street he instinctively knew where he would find the tracker. Sure enough, as he turned into the alleyway he found the Texan standing at the rear of his wagon sifting through some of his belongings. He could feel his anger building as he recalled what Richardson had told Vin, that Will Tanner would wait for him but only for a day. The gunslinger was furious that the older Texan was putting undue pressure on Vin, forcing him to rush headlong into a situation that he might not be able to deal with. However, Chris knew that he had to try and keep his feelings under control; if he lost his temper with Vin now he would be just as responsible for driving him away.

"Guess this means you're leaving then?"

Vin jumped, spinning round at the sound of the gunslinger's voice. He had been so pre-occupied that he had failed to detect Chris' approach but then he relaxed slightly and turned back to what he was doing.

"Already told ya I gotta take this chance," the tracker replied without looking at his friend.

"And if it's the wrong choice?"

"Then it's my mistake. I ain't ever gonna know if it's right or wrong lessen I do it."

Chris could hear the determination in Vin's words as he carefully packed a few more items into his saddlebags. Amongst them was a small carved box which the tracker handled almost reverently, and Chris guessed it had something to do with his past. It may even have belonged to Vin's mother, and for the first time the gunslinger realised just what he was up against. It was evident that family ties were important to Vin and Chris wondered just how he was going to fight that.

"So there's nothing I can say to make you change your mind?"

Vin turned and looked at the gunslinger and for once he was unable to read the unspoken message in his friend's hazel eyes.

"You'd know if there was, cowboy," he replied softly and continued with his packing. Chris stood there for a little while longer, silently watching and unable to find the right words.

When Vin looked up a few seconds later the gunslinger was gone. Slamming his fist against the side of his wagon the tracker cursed Chris Larabee. When the chips were down and Chris was fighting against almost hopeless odds the gunslinger was braver than any man he had ever met, but when it came to expressing his true feelings his courage had failed him. If Chris had only said 'I need you to stay' then he probably would have.

Leaving was not a decision he had made lightly, and he hoped that the others would understand his reasons. Their friendship was something he could not put a price on and he would miss the comfortable companionship immensely, but a new life with his father beckoned him and he was not prepared to let that chance pass him by.

+ + + + + + +

The snow was just starting to fall as Vin made his way down to the Livery, thick white flakes that settled on the icy ground and muted the usual morning noises.

He had spent the early part of the previous evening in the saloon, talking and drinking with his friends. Although on the whole they were pleased for him the overall mood was sombre as they realised that Vin's leaving heralded the break-up of the close-knit unit and a major change for all of them. However, at the point that Chris arrived at the saloon, morose and silent, Vin had slipped away. He had wanted to say goodbye to Mary and Billy in private before the morning.

As he walked through the side door of the Livery and removed his horse's bridle from where it hung, he was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not see Chris standing in the shadows until he had reached his black gelding's stall.

"What ya doin' out so early?" he asked as he stopped before his friend.

"Didn't think I was gonna make it easy for you, did you?" Chris made his words sound casual, but he was far from happy. He had tried to get himself drunk in the saloon, but for once it had not worked. It seemed as though the more whiskey he drank, the more sobre he remained as he brooded on his friend's departure. There was no relief at the boarding house either; he had spent most of the night lying awake or pacing the room, and now he was tired out and thoroughly miserable.

"Nope. Was kinda hopin' ya'd understand though." The tracker sounded weary, as though he too had spent a sleepless night.

"What's to understand? D'you really know what you're doing?" The gunslinger saw the flash of anger that passed across Vin's face, but the tracker's voice was still even as he replied.

"I thought about it a lot. I know it might not work out, but I gotta give it a try." He sighed. "I can't not go." He stepped into the stall and slipped the bridle over his mounts head. The young Texan could feel Chris' eyes on him, accusing and angry, but he remained silent as he put the saddle in place.

The gunslinger was almost at the end of his patience now, and the only way he could see of stopping Vin was by force, but that was not a path he was prepared to tread. Yet. As Vin picked up the reins and started to lead his horse out Chris stepped forward barring his way.

"How do you know you can trust him?" The gunslinger made a final attempt to dissuade him. "How d'you know he won't turn you in at the first opportunity?"

"Ya just don't get it, do ya?" Vin snapped in exasperation as he pushed past Chris. "He's m'pa!"

"That ain't no answer, Vin, and you know it!"

"It's the only one I got, cowboy." The tracker led his horse out into the falling snow, and then he looked up in surprise as Buck hurried towards him. "Y'ain't gonna try'n stop me as well, are ya?"

"Hell no, pard. I know better'n that." The ladies man stopped and gripped his shoulder briefly. "You just take care, y'hear?"

"I will." Vin glanced over his shoulder to where Chris Larabee stood just inside the doorway. "Tell him I said goodbye." Swinging into the saddle the tracker turned his horse's head and cantered out of town.

Buck watched until he was no longer in sight, his heart heavy as he considered the repercussions of Vin's actions. He knew that this was what Chris had feared the most, and it looked as though the ladies man was going to have to pick up the pieces once again. Taking a deep breath he turned but the gunslinger was no longer standing there.

"Aw shit!" Buck cursed softly under his breath. He knew exactly what Chris intended to do. As he expected the gunslinger was saddling up the gelding, his face set and determined.

"Don't get in my way, Buck." Chris did not look up from fastening the girth. "I'm going after him."

"D'you really think that's such a good idea?" Buck leaned against the entrance to the stall, waiting for his friend to look round, but the gunslinger kept his back turned.

"How the hell should I know? But I can't just do nothing."

"Chris, you gotta let him go. He's gotta find his own way." Buck gritted his teeth, waiting for his friend's inevitable angry outburst, or at least one of his infamous glares, but neither materialised.

"Ain't prepared to do that. I can't afford to lose him, too." Chris sounded quite calm, but Buck could detect the emotion behind his words and he knew exactly what he meant. It was ironic that the gunslinger had finally admitted his true feelings now that Vin had left and the ladies man cursed his friend's stubborn nature.

"Vin can take care of himself, Chris. He won't thank you for interfering in his business."

"I can't help that. Will Tanner's gonna get him killed and I aim to stop that happening." This had been Chris' biggest concern all along; whether by accident or design Tanner was ultimately going to be responsible for the tracker's death.

"What're y'gonna do? Hogtie the boy and drag him back to town?"

"If I have to."

"And Tanner?"

Chris looked up and regarded Buck steadily, grim resolve in his eyes. "I'll do whatever’s neccessary."

The tone of his voice sent a chill down Buck's spine and he stood up straighter, blocking the gunslinger's way. "Chris... " he warned slowly.

"Don't worry, Buck. I ain't about to do anything stupid."

The ladies man frowned as he stared long and hard at his black-dressed friend. If Chris had said that a few years back Buck would not have believed him, given his reckless and oft-times irresponsible nature. However, he had changed now, taking his role as peacekeeper very seriously, but that did not mean that he would not act rashly if Vin's life were in danger.

"Alright, but at least let me come with ya. Maybe the two of us can talk some sense into him."

"No, Buck. This is something I have to do myself."

Buck pursed his lips and looked down, shaking his head in resignation. He could see that there was no point arguing with Chris any further - all he could do now was trust in the gunslinger's judgement.

"Just be careful. Don't push him too far."

The yard was deserted as Chris rode towards the main corral of the Richardson place, but Vin's black gelding was fastened to the top rail and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had hoped to catch up with the young Texan before he had gone too far but Buck had delayed him longer than he had realised, allowing the tracker time to reach his destination. The journey out had done nothing to improve his mood; if anything it had given him more time to dwell on his friend's impulsive decision to leave. As he slipped from the back of his horse he looped the reins over the top rail and glanced around anxiously.

"Vin!" he yelled. "I know you're here. Show yourself!"

The door of the bunkhouse slowly opened and the gunslinger spun around drawing his Colt from its holster but he relaxed slightly as Vin stepped out. The tracker came towards him, his face set and determined as he stopped a few feet in front on Chris.

"I ain't about t'change my mind, Chris. I'm still going wit' him." The young Texan was under no illusions why Chris had followed him. To be honest, he should have expected it but it didn't make the leaving any easier. He felt as though he was being torn in two; he knew that if he left now with his father he would surely lose that special friendship he shared with Chris, and there would be no going back. On the other hand if he stayed he would never know what it was like to be part of a real family, and his heart yearned for that opportunity. He shook his head sadly. "I jus' wish ya could see my side of it."

"All I can see is a damn fool!" As usual Chris allowed his anger to block the path of reason and it did not occur to him that all he was doing was pushing Vin further away. The tracker shrugged; he knew the gunslinger was trying to goad him into some kind of reaction, but he had known Chris too long to fall for that.

"If wantin' t'be wit' family makes ya a fool then I must be one o' the biggest," Vin told him evenly.

"Family?" The gunslinger snorted derisively as he stepped forward, his face inches from Vin's. "All you've done is jumped at the first stranger who's come along and claimed he's your pa!" Chris waved his hand dismissively. "I thought you had more brains than that. Mebbe I've just been wasting my time with our friendship."

"Reckon we both have." Despite his best efforts Vin could feel the spark of anger smouldering just beneath the surface, although he still held a strong feeling of regret that things should have reached this point.

"Can't you see what he's doing?"

"Tell me, Chris - what is he doin'?" The tracker's temper was starting to simmer now and there was a bite to his words that should have warned the other man. "He's just trying to make up for all the lost years. What's wrong with that?"

"If only I could believe that, I - " Chris never had the chance to finish. Vin's face darkened and he stabbed an accusing finger at the gunslinger.

"Ya've had it in for him from the the very first day ya set eyes on him!" Vin did not stop to think about what he was saying now. All he wanted to do was hit back. "Just 'cos ya ain't got a family anymore don't give ya the right t'deny me mine!" Vin saw Chris go white, his expression stunned as though he had been struck by a hammer, and the tracker could barely believe he had uttered those words himself. It was such a low blow that it made him feel physically sick but it was impossible to take them back now. Without another word he turned and started to walk away.

Chris was still reeling from the hurtful and unexpected comment, the words cutting deep into his soul, but he was not prepared to let Vin walk out of his life like this. This was not the way for it to end. Stepping forward he grabbed the tracker's arm, swinging him around to face him.

"Get off me!" Vin snapped out as he shoved Chris back a few paces. "Ya don't own me!"

The sudden gunshot that echoed around the yard startled both men but it was Chris who staggered back with a hiss of pain, his Colt dropping from his grasp as he clutched at his right forearm. Blood dripped from between his fingers as Vin turned, his hand reaching for his sawn-off Winchester as Will Tanner emerged from the bunkhouse, his smoking revolver still aimed at Chris Larabee.

"What the hell... ?" Vin began, moving his hand away from his own weapon.

"This has gone far enough," Tanner said, his steely blue gaze never leaving the gunslinger.

"Ya didn't have t'shoot 'im!" There was shocked accusation in Vin's voice.

"I thought he was gonna kill ya, boy." Tanner felt justified by his explanation. The argument appeared to have reached a dangerous level and he did not want to see anything happen to Vin.

"Then you're a bigger fool than he is!" the gunslinger gritted out, looking directly at Vin. The tracker knew he had been in no danger from Chris but the older Tanner's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Get his gun, Vin," Will ordered. Vin hesitated for a moment but then he stepped forward and retrieved the gunslinger's Colt, tucking it into the waistband of his own pants. He could feel Chris' eyes boring into him as he moved to obey his father and his jaw clenched tightly at the next derogatory statement to come out of the gunslinger's mouth.

"He's certainly got you dancing to his tune now."

"Don't!" Vin's blue eyes flashed fire but Tanner laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Leave it, son." Reaching up he pulled the bandana from around his neck and held it out. "Here. Ya'd best wrap his arm up." The tracker took the square of material and folded it longways. Chris reluctantly took his hand away from the wound, allowing Vin to bind the makeshift bandage around his forearm, wincing as the young Texan tied the knot just a shade too tightly. The gunslinger didn't say a word as he glared at Vin, but the hurt and disappointment was plain to see. "Ya'd best go saddle ma hoss, boy. We'll be leaving as soon as I've set things right wit' ya friend here."

For a long moment Vin stood there, looking from one to the other. He had already been unnerved by his father's actions towards Chris, even though it might have appeared to be warranted, but a nagging doubt was creeping into his mind. Even as he wavered Chris placed himself in the firing line once again.

"You just run along and do what your pappy tells you," he said condascendingly, and Vin's hesitation turned to anger once more. He spun on his heel and strode into the barn without a backward glance.

"Ya just had t'interfere." Tanner gave a heavy sigh as he regarded the gunslinger. "Why couldn't ya jus' let it be?"

"I ain't no quitter!" Chris was in no doubt about Tanner's intentions. "You might have fooled Vin, but I still say you're a stinking liar! I just hope he finds out before it's too late."

"Too late for what, Larabee?" The Texan almost spat the words out.

“It’s the bounty you’re after. That’s all he ever was to you.” To the gunslinger’s amazement Tanner laughed.

“Is that what ya think?” Will shook his head. “If I’d a-wanted the five hundred bucks I coulda taken Vin a long time ago when he got sick, but m’boy’s worth more’n that to me and there’s an end to it.”

Although he hated to admit it Chris could hear the ring of truth in Tanner’s words and it confused him. However, there was one thing he was certain of.

"I know you're behind all the trouble the Richardson's had." It was not merely a lucky guess on Chris' part. It was something he had suspected for a long time although he had no proof, and he was not surprised by Tanner's response.

"What makes ya think that?"

"I just know."

"Ya know nothin'! Ya'd do anythin' t'turn m'boy against me!"

"Who's paying you? Royal? The railroad?" Chris ignored Tanner's reference to Vin as he pressed home his point but the Texan laughed mockingly.

"Ya have no idea who it is. Did ya think I was gonna be happy with just foreman's pay? There was easy money t'be made by trying to scare 'em off!"

"You fucking double-crossing bastard!" Chris could feel his bile rising as he realised Tanner must have been behind the killing of James Owen. "You murdered the doctor!"

"That wasn't me." A look of genuine regret briefly flitted across the older man's face. "Believe me, none of the family was supposed t'get hurt."

"Does Vin know about any of this?" It was a rhetorical question; Chris knew that if his friend was aware of his father's involvement in the death of the young Englishman he would have no hesitation in turning him in.

"I told ya before to stay outta my family's business, Larabee." He gave a crooked grin. "I might not a'killed young Owen, but I'll have no problem wit' you if ya try an' stop us. I always get what I want. My father found that out to his cost."

"What the hell does that mean?" Chris was stalling now, looking for an opening to try and jump Tanner, but the older man's words sent a shiver down his spine. "Are you saying you killed your own father?"

"If he'd given me what I wanted there and then he might still be alive. How was I to know he had a bad heart?"

The gunslinger was shocked, and his anxiety for Vin suddenly increased ten-fold. If Tanner could commit patricide, then he would have no compunction about murdering a son he hadn't seen for more than twenty years. Chris was trying to get his head around all that was happening. Everything he had suspected about this man, everything he had tried to warn Vin about, seemed to be coming true and he knew he had to stop the tracker leaving with him one way or another. Before the gunslinger could consider his next move Vin emerged from the barn leading Tanner's horse, which he fastened next to Peso.

"Ya 'bout ready to go, boy?"

"I reckon so," the tracker replied, unable to meet Chris' gaze, but the gunslinger made one last attempt to stop him.

"Don't do this. The man's no good, Vin."

Now Vin did look at his friend; the words were an echo of what he himself had once told Chris when he had tried to warn him about Ella Gaines. 'I'm gonna forget you said that'. The consequences of Chris' denial had almost cost the gunslinger his life, and that was something Vin would never forget.

"Don't listen to him, son. He's jus' messin' wit' ya head." Tanner could see that the tracker was wavering. Too much had happened between Vin and the gunslinger for him to let the friendship go lightly. It was something the older Texan had feared from the start and he could see now just how close he was to losing everything.

"Did he tell you he killed your grandpa?" Chris could see the shock on the tracker's face as he played his trump card, and the horror in his eyes as he turned to Tanner.

"What?" he gasped disbelievingly. A flicker of annoyance crossed Will's features, but he tried to give some rational explanation.

"It's not what ya think, boy. I was gonna tell ya... "

"No!" Vin felt as though his whole world was falling down around his ears. His grandfather had been the last family member he had been really close to, and now this man - his own father - had just admitted that he been the cause of his death. Vin did not want to believe Chris but every fibre of his being screamed that the gunslinger was telling him the truth.

"Have I ever lied to you, Vin?" Chris' soft statement only added to the Texan's bewilderment, and he pressed the heels of his hands to his temples with a groan.

"Vin, we're going - now!" Tanner could see the situation slipping away from him and he knew he had to take back control quickly. He thrust the younger man in the direction of his horse and as the tracker instinctively put his foot in the stirrup Chris made his move towards Tanner.

Vin watched in horrified fascination as his father brought his revolver up and pulled the trigger. There was no remorse on the older Texan's face as Chris was slammed back in the dirt and Vin launched himself from the saddle, wrestling the gun from his father's hand. He flung the weapon through the rails so it landed in the middle of the empty corral and shook the older man violently.

"Why?" he demanded savagely.

"I can't have him followin' us. He'll ruin everything!"

Vin thrust his father away in disgust, his image of a happy family life turning to bitter dust all around him and he hurried to the side of the fallen gunslinger.

"Dammit to hell, Chris! Why did ya hav'ta follow me?" There was despair in the tracker's voice as Chris clutched at his right thigh, his face drawn with pain. Blood darkened the black of his pants as he gritted his teeth.

"I couldn't let you go with him," he groaned. "It's not right."

"Damn you, Larabee," Vin hissed, tying his own bandana tightly around the badly bleeding wound. Chris slumped back against the ground as Vin stood up and faced Will Tanner. "We gotta to get 'im back to Nathan!"

"What about us? Are ya still coming with me?" Tanner tried to salvage the last remnants of his crumbling relationship with his son but he could see that it was an uphill struggle. His own reckless actions had jeopardised everything he had achieved so far and he was not sure how to rectify it.

"Mebbe, but we need to get help for Chris first." Vin would have promised anything at that point, and Tanner knew it. "Help me get him on his horse." Raising his hands in compliance the older Texan stepped forward.

"Okay, okay," he said, his manner placating. As he leaned down to haul the gunslinger up his right hand reached towards his boot top. Vin wasn't aware of the knife in Tanner's hand until he saw the glint of the blade as Will thrust Chris against the corral fence. The gunslinger gave a gasp of pain and steel gleamed in the sunlight as the weapon was held against his throat. Tanner gave a mocking smile as Vin took an involuntary step forward. Events were moving so swiftly that he was having trouble keeping up and he was acutely aware that he had just placed Chris in further danger

"What the hell're ya doing?" Vin's mouth was parched with fear as he saw the point of the knife nick the gunslinger's neck and the grimace of pain on Chris' face as a thin line of blood trickled down to his shirt collar.

"Can't ya see he's always gonna come between us? I ain't about to let that happen."

Vin licked suddenly dry lips and pulled Chris' Colt from his waistband. "Let 'im go," he demanded as he thumbed back the hammer but Tanner just stared at him and laughed.

"What are ya gonna do, boy? Shoot me? Ya ain't man enough to do it!"

"Let him go. Now!" Vin sounded confident enough but inside his stomach was knotted with trepidation and his thoughts were in turmoil. Never had he faced such an agonising choice - did he shoot his own father or watch his best friend die? Tanner saw the indecision in the young man's eyes and he pressed home his advantage.

"What? You'd choose him over ya own flesh and blood?" Vin saw the sudden doubt on Chris' face and the gun wavered and dipped as Tanner gave a smile of triumph.

There was nothing Chris could do as Tanner hauled him up and forced him back against the fence. His right leg sent waves of agony through his body and it would barely hold his weight but he froze as he felt the touch of cold steel against his throat.

"What the hell're ya doing?"

The gunslinger heard the fear in Vin's words and he hissed as the blade cut into his flesh. Warm blood trickled down his neck as Tanner tightened his hold.

"Can't ya see he's always gonna come between us? I ain't about to let that happen." Tanner's words made Chris go cold and at that point he knew that his life was forfeit.

"Let him go." Chris glanced at the tracker, seeing his own gun in Vin's hand, but Tanner's laugh sounded harsh in his ear.

"What are ya gonna do, boy? Shoot me? Ya ain't man enough to do it!" The gunslinger could hear the mockery in the Texan's voice and he couldn't even begin to imagine what Vin was going through.

"Let him go. Now!" The gunslinger heard the confidence in his friend's tone and his heart ached for the choice the young tracker was about to make.

"What? Ya'd choose him over ya own flesh and blood?"

The triumph in Tanner's words did something that very few things ever could. It scared the hell out of Chris Larabee. He saw the gun in Vin's hand suddenly dip and he felt the tensing of Tanner's muscles as the man prepared to draw the knife across his throat and Chris closed his eyes, steeling himself for the final pain. It was not death itself that scared him - it was the thought that Vin Tanner had stood by and let him die. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming.

As Tanner leaned against him the extra pressure on his wounded leg caused his senses to swim and he could feel himself slipping down as unconsciousness clawed at him. The sudden sharp pain in his neck was accompanied by the loud report of a revolver and he felt the man beside him jerk and cry out as they both tumbled to the ground.

Vin saw the murderous intent in his father's eyes as he shifted his grip on the knife and he knew that he was the only one who could prevent this tragedy. He saw the gunslinger close his eyes, almost in resignation at his own death, and Vin's senses started to scream at him. He only had one choice left; he had to stop his father killing Chris. The tracker saw the knife move, saw Chris suddenly start to slump, and his finger tightened reflexively around the trigger, the shot reverberating through his confused mind.

Vin stared in horror as both men went down, and he knew instinctively that he had fired a fatal shot. The Colt dropped from his nerveless fingers and he stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees at the side of the stricken Texan. The tracker gathered him up in his arms, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping wound in the side of his chest. He had aimed to incapacitate but as Chris had slumped he had inadvertently pulled Tanner down with him and Vin had no time to change his point of aim. The bullet intended for the man's upper leg had ploughed into his chest, tearing through both lungs with devastating effect. Even if Nathan had been standing right next to him there would not have been anything the healer could have done, and Vin knew his father only had a matter of minutes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The tracker repeated the phrase over and over again, hot tears dropping unheeded onto the older man's chest and he felt as though his heart would break. He could see his one true chance of happiness slipping away as surely as his father's life before it had even had a chance to develop.

"Vin." Will Tanner forced the word out through bloody lips and the young Texan sniffed, trying to put on a brave face but failing miserably. "Ya know... we coulda had... it all." He slowly raised his hand, blood smeared fingers leaving their mark on the tracker's pale cheek. A cough shook his trembling body, scarlet streaks flecking his chin and lips as his strength finally started to give out. "I guess... it wasn't meant to... be... " Tanner's hand dropped away from Vin's face as his last breath bubbled on his lips and the tracker hugged him closer as he heard the death rattle sound in his father's throat.

Chris looked across as Vin dropped down beside his father. His mind still refused to believe that the tracker had shot the man but the evidence was there right in front of his eyes. The gunslinger felt numb; he was relieved to be alive but the cost to Vin was incalculable. The young Texan was sobbing openly as he cradled his father's body to his chest and Chris knew there was nothing he could say to make any difference.

He shifted closer, gasping as the pain from his wounds flared up with renewed vigour and he reached out to his friend but Vin ignored him, oblivious to everything as grief consumed him.

"Vin." Chris' voice cracked with emotion, but the younger man gave no indication that he had heard him. The gunslinger leaned forward, the fingers of his left hand closing about his friend's arm and he felt Vin stiffen and shudder as he turned a tear-streaked face in Chris' direction. The accusing look in the haunted blue gaze made Chris' breath catch in his throat and his next comment died unspoken on his lips as the tracker gently laid his father's body down, closed the sightless eyes and stumbled to his feet.

"Vin!" the gunslinger repeated, his tone more urgent now. There was an unnatural calmness about the young Texan that worried him, the total lack of response more frightening than any outpouring of rage or sorrow. He watched helplessly as Vin untied his black gelding and climbed slowly into the saddle. There was no expression on the tracker's face as he turned the horse around and urged it forward. It was reflexes alone that made him kick it into a canter as he reached the main gate.

Chris stared after him despairingly; he had no idea where Vin was going and he doubted whether the tracker did either. One thing he was certain of though; grief and shock appeared to have driven all coherent thought from his friend's mind and he was concerned for his safety. Chris knew he had to go after him - or at least try.

Grabbing hold of the fence the gunslinger pulled himself up but he gave a whimper of pain as his injured leg buckled under him. Cursing softly through gritted teeth, he rolled over onto his left side and crawled slowly towards his horse. Sweat trickled down his face as he moved forward inch by painful inch, using his good leg for leverage. He could feel a tickling sensation as blood soaked through the bandana tied around his wound, soaking through his pants and leaving a smeared trail in the snow, and every cautious movement burned through muscle and sinew.

Although it was not very far he had to stop after just a few feet. Shock and loss of blood was starting to take its toll on him and he felt sick and light-headed, only his fear for Vin spurring him on. Barely suppressing the cry of agony that sprang to his lips he struggled forward, peering up through vision that blurred alarmingly at the stirrup iron hanging enticingly just above his head. Stretching out his right hand, Chris groaned aloud as his grasp was just a few inches short. With a final supreme effort the gunslinger used his left leg to push himself up those remaining few inches but to no avail. Alarmed by the sudden movement at its feet, the gelding skittered away from his outstretched fingers and Chris could do nothing to prevent himself crashing to the ground. The breath was driven from his body as he sprawled headlong and the jarring impact sent pain flaring through his thigh.

His last thought as he plunged into the dark abyss of unconsciousness was that he had failed Vin, utterly and irrevocably.

+ + + + + + +

"I just don't know how to make him see sense!"

The heartfelt comment came from Buck as he sat sipping coffee in the clinic with Nathan. About four hours had passed since Chris had gone looking for Vin, despite Buck trying to persuade him otherwise.

"Ya know Chris," the healer pointed out. "He always thinks he knows what's right."

"Yeah, but this time he's wrong." Buck sighed heavily. "He's gotta give that boy his freedom. It's something Vin needs to do, and if he finds it's not what he wants... waal, he knows he's got a place here."

"Ya think Chris is pushing him too hard?"

"Hell, I know he is! Thing is, the man'll never see it 'til it's too late. The more he tries to make Vin stay, the more the boy's gonna dig his heels in!"

"They're both as stubborn as each other." Nathan shook his head, knowing from past experience just how recalcitrant they both could be, and Buck laughed.

'I've known Chris an awfully long time, and if there's one thing I've learned its never to try and out-stubborn him."

Nathan picked up his cup and then paused with it midway to his mouth, and he tilted his head to one side as though he were listening to something.

"What?"

"I dunno. I thought - " The healer never finished the sentence as his name was yelled from outside. He was on his feet immediately, Buck right behind him and the urgency in the shout was evident to both men. Nathan flung open the door and leaned over the balcony, his eyes widening in surprise. Down below Tiny, the town's blacksmith, was holding onto the bridle of Vin Tanner's gelding, the tracker himself slumped in the saddle, and the healer's first horrified thought was that the Texan was injured in some way. He clattered down the stairs, the ladies man at his heels, and now he could see the dark rust-brown stain that liberally covered the front of Vin's shirt beneath the open jacket.

"My God, Vin! What happened?" Nathan rested a hand on the tracker's knee as he asked the question and fear clutched at him as he realised that Vin was just staring, unaware of the people around him. Bloody streaks smeared one pale cheek and stained his hands and his eyes were almost vacant as he gripped the reins tightly but he did not respond to Nathan's voice.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" There was concern in Buck's tone as Nathan drew a sharp breath. The healer had seen enough cases of shock in the War Between The States to recognise it for what it was but he could not imagine what had caused the young tracker to be in this condition.

"I dunno. Vin, where's Chris?" Nathan felt the younger man quiver under his hand and the Texan slowly turned his head, not quite looking at the healer.

"... killed him."

It was barely a whisper, the toneless comment falling from the tracker's lips, but it hit the two stunned peacekeepers with all the force of an avalanche.

"What?" There was shock and disbelief in that soft drawn-out word from Buck and his heart was pounding with fear as he stared up at Vin, unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

"What d'ya mean?" Nathan sounded shaken as his finger's tightened around the Texan's knee.

"I killed him," Vin repeated, a little more strength in the dull tone and he closed his eyes as his head drooped.

"You bastard!" Buck's voice was a snarl of rage and Nathan was just too late to stop him as he reached up and grabbed the front of the tracker's coat, physically hauling him from the saddle. The black gelding snorted and skittered nervously at the sudden assault and Tiny dragged the animal away before it kicked out in fear. As Vin's feet touched the ground he collapsed bonelessly, taking Buck down with him, and the ladies man stared in horror as the Texan flung up his hands to protect his face, cowering away at the expected blow. To his credit Buck released his hold at once and scrambled to his feet, realising that there was something seriously wrong. He was horrified that Vin had reacted that way to him and his anger died as quickly as it had ignited. Nathan brushed by him, crouching down beside the terrified tracker and catching his wrists in a firm grip.

"It's alright, Vin, no-one's gonna hurt ya." Nathan sensed Buck flinch at those words but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the Texan. He could feel the younger man trembling violently and he knew that it was more than just a state of shock. Vin was on the point of nervous collapse.

"Nathan, I didn't mean to... " Buck's voice trailed off brokenly but the healer could understand why he had acted the way he did.

"I know," he said. "Just go find Josiah."

"But... what about... Chris?" The ladies man could not hide the pain and despair he felt despite his worry over Vin.

"We'll go out to the ranch," Nathan assured him. "We'll find... him. But I can't leave Vin on his own like this."

"Alright." Buck gave the huddled tracker another quick look before hurrying off in search of Josiah.

"I'll get yer horses ready for ya." The suggestion came from Tiny who had watched the unfolding drama in uncomfortable silence. Nathan looked up and nodded gratefully.

"I'd be obliged." As the man lead the the black gelding away the healer turned his attention once more to Vin. "Come on," he coaxed gently. "Let's get ya cleaned up." Keeping one hand around Vin's left wrist Nathan slipped his other behind the tracker's shoulder and pulled him carefully to his feet. Vin swayed but remained upright, his legs a little unsteady as the healer steered him towards the stairs.

They took the climb slowly, one step at a time, with Nathan supporting him all the way. By the time they reached the top landing Vin was shaking with exhaustion and the healer barely managed to get him inside and sitting on the edge of a bed before he collapsed. Snatching up a blanket Nathan draped it around his shoulders, tucking the ends in tightly to keep him warm. He was certain now that Vin had suffered no physical injury himself but he did not like to think whose blood was soaked into the Texan's clothes.

Crossing over to a cupboard Nathan took out a bottle of whiskey, pouring a measure into a glass and diluting it with water. Pulling up a chair, he sat in front of the tracker and forced the glass into his hand, closing his own fingers around it as he guided it towards his friend's lips.

"Come on, Vin. Ya gotta drink this." The Texan turned his head away, the first responsive move he had made since Buck had pulled him from his horse, but Nathan reached out and grasped his chin, turning his face back towards him. "Drink!" It was almost an order and Vin swallowed instinctively, spluttering a little as the liquor burned the back of his throat.

Nathan was still sitting in front of the Texan, both hands rubbing gently at his shoulders trying to ease the stiffness from his muscles when Buck returned with Josiah. There was sympathy and pity on the ex-preacher's face as he regarded the traumatised young man hunched on the bed. When Buck had found him in the church and told him about the tracker's dramatic return he had been shocked and appalled. He could hardly believe what the ladies man was telling him; it was seemed inconceivable that Vin could have killed his best friend. But Buck was badly shaken and now seeing the Texan for himself Josiah realised that against all probability it must be true. The faint flicker of hope that the ladies man was mistaken guttered and died and he felt a profound sense of sadness.

"So it's true then?" Josiah said softly and Nathan nodded grimly.

"Looks that way. I can't see why else he'd be like this."

"You and Buck need to go and find Chris. There might still be a chance he's alive." Despite his foreboding the ex-preacher forced himself to be practical. "What can I do here?"

Nathan hesitated. He was reluctant to leave Vin even under Josiah's care but they had to be certain about the gunslinger one way or another.

"See if ya can clean him up a bit, and then jus' keep him warm and quiet. But whatever ya do - don't let him outta ya sight!"

"I'll do my best, my friend." Josiah made the promise as the healer climbed to his feet.

"Y'about ready, Buck?" he asked, and the ladies man nodded solemnly. As they exited the clinic Josiah looked at Vin and shook his head sadly.

'How could God have allowed this to happen?' he thought to himself but he heard no answer. With a sigh he poured some warm water into a basin and picked up a cloth. All he could do for now was to clean the visible signs of tragedy from the Texan's skin. His tormented soul would require much more than soap and water.

+ + + + + + +

As Nathan and Buck urged their weary horses along the rough track leading up to the Richardson's deserted ranch, the healer was painfully reminded of another such urgent ride he had made just a few months ago. Then he had been going to the aid of a seriously ill Vin Tanner and the taciturn gunslinger had been at his side. Now the situation was almost reversed; the young tracker was back at the clinic locked in a state of virtual catatonic shock whilst he and Buck went to find Chris Larabee, who was more than likely dead.

Buck had been silent for nearly the entire journey but as the two peacekeepers rode under the archway and into the main yard they spotted the crumpled figure of the black-dressed gunslinger almost at the same time and an anguished moan spilled from his lips.

"Oh God - no!"

Pulling back on the reins the ladies man was out of the saddle before the grey had stopped, running towards the prone form by the feet of the patiently standing black gelding. Nathan brought his own mount to a stop and closed his eyes briefly against the sudden feeling of loss. The snow that covered the ground and clung to the clothing of Chris Larabee was a painful reminder of how they had found James Owen's body. All the way he had been trying to convince himself that Vin was wrong, even though he knew that the tracker would not have left his friend or returned alone if the gunslinger had merely been injured. Now if the evidence before them was to be believed Vin Tanner had indeed killed his best friend. Swinging down from the saddle the healer followed Buck, his heart heavy as he watched the ladies man kneel down beside Chris' still form.

"Aw dammit, Chris," Buck breathed softly as he gently turned the gunslinger over and cradled him in his arms, his head bowed in silent grief. Nathan stood looking down for a moment, his practiced eye seeing the dried blood caking the gunslinger's throat and neck and the crude bandage wrapped around his thigh, and he frowned in consternation.

"What the hell happened here?" he muttered almost to himself as he crouched down and reached out to touch the gunslinger's pallid cheek. As he had expected the skin was icy cold beneath his hand but he still had to make the final check just to satisfy himself. Placing his sensitive fingers against Chris' throat he was not surprised to find no flicker of life. Then he glanced up quickly at Buck as he moved his hand a fraction.

"He's alive!" he breathed in disbelief as he detected the slow, faint beat beneath his trembling fingers.

"What?" Buck stared at the gunslinger's face incredulously. Chris was so white and cold that he could hardly believe what Nathan had just said.

"He's still alive, Buck!" The healer squeezed his friend's shoulder reassuringly, a relieved smile on his face as Buck looked at him in amazement. He watched as Nathan reached down and ran his fingers along the back of Chris' thigh, seeing his frown of concern. "Look's like the bullet's still in his leg and he's lost a lot of blood." He indicated the scuffed and stained snow by Chris' feet. "Reckon he musta bin crawling to his horse before he passed out." Pushing himself up he started to go back to his horse to get a blanket and his medical bag: although the cold had pushed Chris to the point of hypothermia it had also slowed down the flow of blood, otherwise he might have bled to death before they reached him.

"Did Vin do this to him?" Buck asked suddenly. Nathan could hear the anger in his voice but he shook his head, no hesitation in his reply.

"I can't believe that, Buck." He could not imagine anything that would make the tracker deliberately harm Chris, yet something had convinced him that he had killed the gunslinger. As he collected the items he needed and turned to go back a splash of colour at the far end of the corral caught his eye.

"Buck." The ladies man glanced up at the sound of his name, following Nathan's pointing finger. "Over yonder. Ya'd best check it out."

Buck carefully laid Chris down, content to leave him in Nathan's care and strode across to the second body lying beside the fence.

"It's Tanner." The ladies man did not need to take more than a cursory look to see that the man had been dead for hours.

"Tanner?" Nathan exclaimed in surprise. Somehow in their concern over Vin and Chris no-one had given the older Texan a thought. "Dead?"

"Very."

Buck shook his head in confusion. He could not even start to speculate on what had transpired at the ranch. Only two people knew the answer to that question but Chris was unconscious and Vin was not talking. Just beyond Tanner's outstretched hand lay Chris' hat and as Buck stooped to retrieve it he spotted a knife lying under the bottom rail. Picking it up he turned it over, seeing the tell-tale signs of dried blood on the blade but he did not recognise it as belonging to either Chris or Vin. His curiosity roused now, Buck prowled around a little more until he found the gunslinger's Colt where it had been dropped but it only added to the mystery. It was like trying to put a child's jigsaw puzzle together and discovering that all the edge pieces were missing.

With a sigh the ladies man dropped both weapons inside Chris' hat for safekeeping and gave up his search. It was just too dammed perplexing and his mind was not on it anyhow. As he came back and crouched down beside the gunslinger Nathan was just removing another bandana from around Chris' right forearm.

"How'd that happen?"

"Wish I knew." Nathan sounded mystified. "And then there's this." He turned Chris' head to one side, showing Buck where he had cleaned the blood from his neck, and the ladies man could see the long thin cut that ran under the gunslinger's chin and down his throat and he glanced at the knife that lay in Chris' hat next to his gun.

"I reckon Chris killed Tanner, so what the hell was Vin going on about?" Looking at Chris' injuries, Buck wondered how he could possibly have thought that the tracker had done it. It was simply impossible.

"This don't look too bad," Nathan said as he as he bound a clean dressing around Chris' arm. "It won't even need no stitches."

"What about his leg?"

"There's not much I can do at the moment. I need to get the bullet out first."

"What about taking him inside?" Buck glanced across at the boarded up house, and then lightly touched Chris' cheek. "At least it'll be warmer." Despite the blanket that Nathan had wrapped around him the gunslinger was still deathly cold.

"It's a good idea, but I'd sooner get him back. 'Sides, I'm still worried about Vin." As he unrolled another bandage Nathan considered removing the soiled bandana from around the gunslinger's thigh but then changed his mind. He could not risk starting the bleeding again and he decided it would be best just to wrap another bandage tightly over the top until he got back to the clinic. As the healer straightened the injured leg and started to bind the wound, Buck heard a soft groan.

"Chris?" He saw the gunslinger's eyelids twitch and his friend drew a deep shuddering breath as pain dragged him back to the brink of consciousness. "Nathan, I think he's coming round."

"S'okay. I'm almost done." The healer tied off the end of the bandage as Chris gave another groan and feebly moved his head. He dropped a hand on the gunslinger's blanket-covered shoulder as the hazel eyes slowly flickered open. "Easy Chris."

"Uh? Wha... ? Nathan?" Chris' words were slurred and he sounded dazed as he focused his confused gaze on Nathan, and the healer grinned.

"Yeah, I'm here. So's Buck."

"Hey, pard." As Chris turned to look at him the smile of relief on the face of the ladies man conveyed more than words ever could. "Y'had us worried there for a moment. When Vin - " He stopped, seeing the sudden fear in Chris' eyes at the mention of the tracker's name.

"Vin... gotta find him!" The gunslinger started to struggle up in panic but Nathan gripped his shoulder and forced him back down.

"It's okay, Chris. He's back in town."

Chris closed his eyes momentarily and swallowed hard, his teeth chattering with the cold as he forced the next question out.

"... he alright?" The other two peacekeepers exchanged puzzled looks, wondering what had prompted his surprising question.

"Don't you worry none about Vin," Buck told him. "You just let Nathan fix you up."

"D'ya think ya can sit a horse?" Nathan asked the question knowing that there was no other way of getting the gunslinger back to Four Corners, and Chris nodded.

"Jus' get me home."

As Nathan packed the remnants of his supplies back into his saddlebag Buck shot a quick glance in the direction of Will Tanner's body and asked the question that was uppermost in his mind.

"Who did this to you, Chris? Was it Tanner?"

Chris didn't answer immediately but as he shifted slightly pain seared through his leg and he drew a sharp breath, fighting down the agony as he forced himself to answer.

"Yeah," he hissed. "... couldn't let Vin... go with him."

Nathan gave Buck a warning glance as Chris' shallow breathing grew more rapid, but the ladies man was persistent..

"Did you kill Tanner?"

If it was at all possible Chris' face turned a shade paler as he recalled the moment when Tanner's knife was at his throat and he remembered the shot and the accusing look in Vin's eyes.

"Chris?" Buck was worried by his friend's silence and the haunted expression in his eyes.

"No. It was Vin." The whispered words sent a jolt of shock through Buck and Nathan, and now the healer could understand why Vin was so distraught. 'I killed him'. The words made perfect sense now but he wondered what had driven the tracker to commit such a terrible act.

"Vin? Why?" There was total disbelief in Buck's voice as he made the demand of the gunslinger but Nathan held up a hand in warning.

"Leave it, Buck." He could see that Chris was struggling, the pain and the shock driving him to the point of unconsciousness once more. "Why don't ya get Tanner's body on his horse? I'll stay with Chris." It might have sounded like a suggestion but it wasn't; the ladies man could see the determination on Nathan's face and he knew when to admit defeat.

As Buck set about his grim task Nathan remained beside Chris, talking to him softly and chafing his cold hands in an effort to keep him conscious. Even though they were beginning to piece together some of the puzzle there were still a lot of questions unanswered but they would have to wait for the moment. Getting Chris back to town was their first priority now.

Part Eight

"... and I wonder if Mary knows."

Mary Travis just caught the last part of Gloria Potter's comment as she entered the woman's store.

"Know what, ladies?" Mary smiled brightly, wondering what the latest gossip was. Mrs Potter and the other woman looked up at the sound of her voice, and then they exchanged dismayed glances as the subject of their conversation walked up to the counter. "What's wrong?" Mary had seen their expressions change, and she had a sudden unnerving feeling of dread.

"You haven't heard." It was almost a statement from Gloria Potter and Mary frowned and shook her head in exasperation.

"Heard what?"

The store owner hesitated for a brief moment and then drew a deep breath. "They say Vin Tanner turned up at the clinic a little while ago covered in blood. Word has it he's killed Chris Larabee."

Mary stared in horror at the two women, her shopping list fluttering from her fingers as she tried to deny what she had just heard. Then she turned and fled, running along the boardwalk towards the clinic. Her heart was pounding as she tore up the steps, hoping desperately that it was all some terrible mistake.

Vin Tanner had remained silent ever since Nathan had left, not even responding when Josiah stripped off his jacket and bloodstained shirt. The big man had also managed to wash the blood from his face and hands and remove his boots but apart from getting him to take a little water the tracker had remained locked in his own private hell. For the past half hour he had sat on the bed, arms clasped about his raised knees and his head bowed, gently rocking back and forth. Josiah had just draped a second blanket around the shivering man when the door was violently flung open.

"Nathan! I... oh!" Mary gasped in astonishment as Josiah turned to face her.

"Mary? What are you doing here?" Even as he said it the ex-preacher realised that the word had obviously spread around town with the speed of a prairie fire, and he cursed the Four Corners rumour mill.

"I heard - " Mary paused as she looked beyond Josiah to the figure hunched on the bed. "Oh God! Vin." She stumbled forward a few steps staring at the distraught tracker, but then her gaze was drawn to his discarded clothes flung over a chair and her eyes widened with fear. "No!" she whispered. "Tell me it isn't true, Josiah."

The ex-preacher came up behind her and put his hands gently on her shoulders. "We don't know anything for certain yet," he told her. "Nathan and Buck have gone to find Chris."

"They said Vin - " Mary stopped, unable to put her fear into words. She looked round at the tracker once more and shook her head. "I can't believe he'd harm him."

"Neither can I. We'll just have to wait 'til the others get back."

Mary pulled herself out of the big man's grasp and crouched down beside the bed. Despite her anxiety over Chris she was also concerned for Vin. Only the previous evening he had had supper with her and Billy and spoken of his plans for the future. Once again he had admitted to her that he was angry about Chris' reaction to his leaving. Could it be that they had had some terrible argument that had brought about this current turn of events?

"Vin?" she called softly. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she reached out and placed her hand over his. They were not only tears for Chris but for the young Texan who seemed to have withdrawn into himself, clear evidence of some monumental shock.

"You won't get anything out of him, Mary," Josiah told her sadly. "Lord knows I've tried."

"Vin? Please - look at me." Mary tried once more but it was hopeless. The tracker remained silent and unresponsive as he continued to rock back and forth and Mary wept for the apparent senseless loss of two people she cared a great deal about.

+ + + + + + +

.

Josiah closed the book of Psalms with a heavy sigh. It had been open on his lap for some time now but he realised that he had not turned a page for at least the last hour. Dusk was settling outside as he rose and lit several lamps, but he kept the wicks turned low, allowing sufficient light to see but not so much that it disturbed his silent companion.

"Well my friend, I don't think I'm going to find any answers in these pages." The ex-preacher's tone was conversational but as he had expected Vin Tanner did not acknowledge anything he said. "I wish I knew how to help you, son," Josiah continued softly. He had admitted as much to Ezra and JD when they had arrived shortly after Mary. Both men had been deeply shocked by the apparent death of the gunslinger, too upset to even lay any blame at Vin's feet, and it was Ezra who had had to drag a tearful Mary and JD away from the clinic.

The sound of hoofbeats down below suddenly caught his attention and he looked towards the door, hesitating for a moment before pulling it open and stepping out onto the balcony. Even in the fading light he recognised the man on the grey gelding as he rode slowly down the main street, but it was the blanket-wrapped body lying across the saddle of the dark horse following behind that made his heart contract painfully.

"May God grant you peace," he murmured sadly as he crossed himself, wondering how the death of the gunslinger would affect the remaining peacekeepers. He was particularly worried about Vin even though he still found it difficult to believe that the Texan was responsible in any way.

"Josiah? That you?" Nathan's voice floated up from directly beneath the top landing. "Can ya gimme a hand wit' Chris?"

Chris? Josiah almost did a double take, peering down the street to where Buck had stopped outside the undertaker's parlour. Then he visibly shook himself and hurried down the stairs. Nathan was standing beside Chris' mount, carefully supporting the gunslinger as he slumped forward in the saddle.

"Can ya help me get 'im upstairs?"

"But I thought... ?" Josiah stared in amazement at the semi-conscious gunslinger.

"Yeah - so did we."

The ride back to Four Corners had been a nightmare two-hour journey for Chis Larabee with pain as his constant companion. It was only gritty determination that had kept him on his mount and he was barely aware when Nathan had called a halt so that he could scramble up behind him. As he had started to warm up the gunslinger's wound had begun to bleed more freely but the healer's firm grip had held him in the saddle for the remainder of the ride and Chris was relieved that they had now finally reached their destination. He felt two pairs of strong hands pull him gently from the saddle and carry him the short distance to the steps up to the clinic.

His eyes were still tightly closed and his jaw clenched shut in agony as Nathan and Josiah began their slow climb upstairs. By the time they reached the top he was very close to screaming, but he managed to suppress the cry which was burning in his throat and he gave a long sigh as he felt himself being lowered onto a bed.

The two peacekeepers straightened up after they had laid the gunslinger down and Nathan immediately looked across at Vin. He had been hoping for some improvement by the time they returned, at least some indication that the tracker was aware, but he could see that it had not materialised.

"How's he doing?"

Josiah shook his head sadly. "He's not said a word since you left. I've managed to clean him up a bit and he's taken some water, but that's all. I wish I could do more." Nathan squeezed his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I know ya've done yer best, my friend." He glanced back once more at the injured gunslinger, seeing the way Chris was clutching at the bedsheets and knew he could not afford to waste any more time. "Josiah, can you get his boots and coat off him? I need to get a few things ready."

The ex-preacher knew better than to ask questions at a time like this. Explanations about what had happened out at the ranch would have to wait for a while. Crossing to the bed, he carefully raised Chris up and eased the black duster from his lean form and the gunslinger hissed with pain as Josiah moved further down to remove his boots.

"Sorry my friend, but this has to be done." Hazel eyes flickered open as the older man sat down on the edge of the bed and lightly touched his arm.

"Jos...iah?"

"It's alright, Chris. You're in the clinic now." he answered, a brief smile on his face.

The gunslinger shifted uncomfortably on the bed as a sudden thought flashed into his mind and a low groan spilled from his lips as pain shot up his leg.

"Vin... where's Vin?" he gasped. Josiah's smile faded as he glanced towards the other bed.

"He's right here."

Chris turned his head as he followed the direction of the ex-preacher's gaze, and his eyes widened in shock when he looked across the room. Vin Tanner had not moved from his hunched position at the top of the bed; his forehead now resting on his raised knees, but he still rocked gently back and forth, lost and terrified.

"Vin!"

The gunslinger did not recognise his own voice, so hoarse and strained was it as he stared at his friend in horror. Chris was not sure whether it was his name being called or the sound of his voice that dragged a slight reaction from the young Texan, but Vin's restless movements stopped and his head came up.

"Vin!" Chris called again and now the tracker turned his head towards the gunslinger, but there was no expression on his face. The vacant soulless look in the blue eyes chilled Chris to the bone and he struggled to sit up, yelping in pain as he jarred his leg.

"Lay still, Chris." Josiah placed his large hands on the younger man's shoulders and held him down effortlessly.

"No... gotta help Vin." The gunslinger's face was twisted with pain as Nathan turned, a syringe in one hand and a small piece of cloth in the other.

"We will," the healer assured him. "Just as soon as I've seen to yer leg. Josiah, can ya roll his left sleeve up?"

Chris had no option but to lie quietly as the ex-preacher obeyed and Nathan sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the inside of the exposed forearm with the alcohol soaked cloth.

"I'm gonna give you some morphine, Chris. It'll help with the pain when I dig that bullet out." He did not bother saying to Chris that it was not going to hurt because the gunslinger knew from past experience that it would.

"Just do it," he hissed, closing his eyes with a shuddering grimace as the needle went in. He could hear Nathan moving around as he readied everything he needed and then he flinched as he felt the touch of cold metal on his leg as the healer started to cut through the black pants with a pair of scissors. "Not my pants," he groaned aloud, glancing down as Nathan continued cutting up the outside seam.

"Sorry Chris. I'll buy ya a new pair," Nathan told him with a slight grin as he snipped through the bloodstained bandage and bandana. Laying aside the scissors Nathan started to soak the stiffened material away from the wound, relieved when Chris did not try to pull his leg away at this painful procedure. It was obvious that the morphine was starting to have the desired effect, but probing for the bullet would be a lot different. He would need Josiah's help then to keep the injured limb still.

Chris was beginning to become a little detached from what was happening; he could feel Nathan's hands on his leg but at the moment there was hardly any pain which was a welcome relief after so many hours. As he started to relax he turned his face once more towards Vin and he was surprised to see that the tracker was still looking in his direction even though his eyes seemed to look directly through the gunslinger. Chris would rather have had the accusing glare than the nothingness he now saw in his friend's eyes and his sense of guilt resurfaced. If he had not followed Vin in the first place neither of them would be in this position now.

"Chris?" Nathan's voice jolted him out of his troubled thoughts and he blinked up at the healer as he dried his hands on a towel. "Ya ready? Ya know I gotta do this."

Chris nodded, turning his head away again as Josiah's hands closed about his ankle and knee. He fixed his gaze on Vin; nothing Nathan did to him could compare to the hell that his friend was going through at this very moment and he did not know if he would ever be able to make it right.

It had taken Nathan a little longer than he had anticipated to locate the bullet and by the time he had probed deep enough to find it Chris had already passed out. In a way it was a blessing; it made it easier for him to check for any bone splinters and to thoroughly clean the wound with carbolic before neatly stitching it. As the healer bound a clean bandage around the gunslinger's thigh, Josiah glanced up and a faint smile crossed his lips.

"Nathan," he said, gesturing with a nod. The healer glanced over his left shoulder and he gave a sigh of relief.

"Finally," he breathed as he regarded the young Texan. Vin's cheek was still pressed against his raised knees but now his eyes were tightly closed and it was obvious that he was sleeping soundly. "Can ya lay him down and cover him up? Reckon sleep's gonna be the best thing for 'im."

Josiah moved across to the other bed and gently straightened the tracker's knees, carefully easing him down flat. Vin gave a weak moan of protest but he quickly settled back into sleep as Josiah tucked the blanket around him.

Nathan gave a tired sigh as he pulled a blanket over Chris and began to clear away the soiled dressings and his instruments. As he washed his hands Josiah put a pot of fresh coffee on to boil, watching as the healer first checked Chris' pulse to make certain he was sleeping normally and then did the same with Vin. As he released the tracker's wrist he placed his hand briefly on his forehead, just to make sure that there was nothing else wrong.

"I think he'll be alright in the morning," Nathan said, dropping wearily into his rocking chair. "He's jus' plumb wore out!" The healer rubbed at his eyes, stretching his legs out before him.

"So d'you know what happened out there?" Josiah asked, handing his dark friend a steaming cup. "Why did Vin think he'd killed Chris?"

"Not Chris. He killed his father."

Josiah gasped in astonishment; he had not been expecting that and he glanced across at the sleeping tracker, finally understanding why he was so traumatised. "There must've been a good reason for him to do that," he stated realising now whose body Buck had taken to the undertakers..

"I hope so, Josiah, otherwise that boy'll be facing a murder charge, whether we like it or not. Looking at Chris, I reckon he did it to save his life."

"If that's the case then it was one hell of a choice he had to make."

Nathan had not really thought about it until Josiah had put it into words and it only increased his concern for the tracker. He knew how deeply Vin had bonded with his father over the last few months. The young Texan did not believe in half measures; with him it was all or nothing and having accepted Will Tanner into his life Vin had embraced the family concept whole-heartedly.

"It's not a choice I'd've liked to've made," Nathan said with a shudder. "I just hope he's got the strength to cope with it, otherwise it's gonna destroy him and Chris."

Glancing at the two sleeping men, Josiah could only nod in agreement.

The clinic was silent as the winter sun started to push its way above the horizon. Nathan was fast asleep in his chair, not even snoring as fatigue finally caught up with him. He had sat with Chris and Vin throughout the night but neither of them had stirred. The gunslinger had slipped from drug-induced to natural slumber in the early hours, and Vin had simply slept the sleep of the exhausted.

Grey dawn stretched out long fingers but only one person was vaguely aware of the arrival of a new day. Blue eyes suddenly snapped open and Vin sat up, pushing aside the blanket. Swinging his legs off the bed he stood up, the stiffness of his posture indicative of a sleepwalker. However, the tracker knew exactly where he was going. Wraith-like the Texan padded forward on bare feet, pausing at the side of Chris' bed and staring impassively down at the peacefully sleeping gunslinger. He remained there for ten long seconds before creeping softly past the healer and out through the door onto the upper landing. Inside the gunslinger stirred slightly, almost feeling the shadow that passed over him, but it was gone so quick that he barely had time to draw breath.

There was nobody about as the tracker made his way down the stairs and turned towards his final destination. Clad only in his pants and undershirt he was oblivious to the cold as his breath frosted in front of him. Stopping outside the door, his fingers closed about the handle, and he frowned slightly as he realised it was locked. Glancing down, he picked up a large stone and used it to break the glass. Reaching forward with his left hand to unfasten the bolt from the inside Vin was unaware of the jagged shards of glass that grazed his forearm as he made his way inside, carefully closing the door behind him. Another door yielded before him as he found what he was searching for, and he drew up a chair and settled down to wait.

It was just after eight o'clock in the morning when Samuel Wilkinson came down the stairs from his living quarters to his place of business. He shrugged on his jacket and pulled out his pocket watch, tutting to himself as he realised that he was later than usual and he had intended to make an early start. Still, no matter - his clients would have to wait a little while longer and he was positive he would hear no complaints. Whistling cheerfully he entered the main office, throwing a cursory glance around his premises and then made his way to the back parlour, frowning when he realised that the door was slightly ajar. He was sure he had closed it the previous night, but he could have been mistaken.

Pushing the door open, he paused as his eyes adjusted to the gloom and then the whistle died on his lips and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he realised he was not alone.

Ezra yawned hugely as he stepped off the boardwalk and crossed the street, heading back towards the saloon and the comfort of his feather bed. He had accepted the invitation to the poker game at the hotel in the hope that it would take his mind off the plight of his two friend's, but all he had succeeded in doing was losing a lot of money and acquiring a dreadful hangover. He was totally unprepared for the noisy appearance of Samuel Wilkinson.

"Mr Standish!" he yelled. "You've got to do something about your friend."

Ezra winced as the man's voice sent shivers of pain through his throbbing temples, and he held up his hands in submission.

"My dear sir, you are shouting loud enough to wake the dead." Ezra could not help smiling at his own joke. "What are you talking about? What friend?"

"It's Mr Tanner. He's just sitting there. Make him leave." Wilkinson sounded desperate as he grabbed hold of the gambler's sleeve and dragged him towards the nearby building. The Southerner was too surprised to argue; as far as he knew Vin was still tucked up safely at Nathan's clinic and he allowed the undertaker to steer him towards the funeral parlour. "Look! He broke my window to get in! Lord knows how long he's been sitting there."

Ezra was starting to get worried now; he had spoken to Buck the previous night and had learned as much about what had transpired as was possible under the circumstances. He had been very relieved to hear that Chris was still alive and had been assured by the ladies man that although he was wounded his life was in no danger. However, he had been shocked by the disclosure that Vin had killed his own father, for whatever reason. The tracker had spoken to him on numerous occassions expressing his delight that his father had come back into his life and the gambler could not imagine what had driven him to commit patricide.

Glass crunched under their feet as they stepped inside, and Wilkinson pointed at the open door directly in front of them.

"He's in there. He scared the life out of me when I came down."

"I think it would be best if you went and got Mr Jackson." Ezra placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "I'll deal with Mr Tanner."

Wilkinson agreed without hesitation; he had no wish to re-enter the back room. Although he had seen his fair share of grieving relatives the young man's stolid and disquieting silence was unnatural.

Ezra stepped through the doorway and stopped just inside and he felt an overwhelming surge of sympathy as he regarded his friend. An open coffin was laid out on trestles directly in front of him and Vin sat at the head and to the left, his eyes fixed on the body inside.

"Vin?" There was no response to the gambler's word. The Southerner swallowed hard as he approached Vin, catching a glimpse of Will Tanner's body from the corner of his eye. The young tracker sat as still as death in the chair but when Ezra touched him lightly on the shoulder he jumped. He could feel Vin trembling with the cold and he slipped off his jacket and draped it around the Texan's shoulders. "You can't stay here, my friend." The gambler's voice broke as he said it, conscious of the depth of grief the other was feeling. "Let's step out into the other room."

"No!"

The tracker's voice was croaky as the anguished word came out and Ezra blinked in surprise, aware that Vin had not spoken since he had arrived at the clinic. He crouched down, one hand on the Texan's wrist, and it was then that he noticed the blood streaking his other forearm. Remembering the broken window Ezra glanced down, wincing in sympathy as he realised that the tracker's bare feet were torn and bleeding.

"Come on, Vin," he coaxed, gently tugging at his arm.

"I killed him, Ezra." The tracker resisted the insistent pull. "All these years o'lookin' for me and I killed him." He turned and looked at the gambler. "What kind o'person am I t'do such a thing?" The Southerner saw the torment in the Texan's eyes and he did not know how to answer at first. He gave a heavy sigh, green eyes holding blue in a steady gaze.

"As I understand it you had little choice, my friend."

"There's always a choice." Vin sounded close to tears as he glanced back at his father's coffin. "Mebbe I made the wrong one."

Ezra shook his head and stood up. "You've got to let go, Vin. It's doing you no good sitting here." There was a long silence and the gambler began to doubt whether his words had actually registered. Then the tracker took a shuddering breath and nodded. As he stood up he swayed slightly and Ezra put his hands on his shoulders to steady him, leading the limping Texan out into the office, conscious of the bloodstains on the floor. He gave a sigh of relief as he eased Vin down into another chair, content to wait for Nathan's arrival.

Nathan stirred in his chair, shivering as the cold attacked his bones and he realised he needed to stoke up the stove to warm the room up. Clasping his hands together above his head he stretched languidly, glancing across at the sleeping gunslinger. Chris appeared comfortable enough, and he turned his attention to Vin - but Vin was gone. His heart gave a painful lurch as he looked at the rumpled bedding and the tracker's clothes and boots still on the chair.

"Goddammit, Vin!" He did not know whether he was cursing the Texan or himself; he should have known that the minute he let his guard down the younger man would have disappeared. Throwing off his own blanket he scrambled to his feet, trying to think where Vin might have gone. He hoped to God that he had not left town and his first instinct was to check the Livery. However, as he crossed the room Chris stirred and groaned and Nathan found himself caught between the two men. Stepping up to the bed, he frowned as he noticed the faint flush on the gunslinger's features and when he dropped his hand to his brow he could feel the heat of fever coursing through his body.

"Aw hell," he muttered. He did not really want to leave Chris like this but he knew that he had to find Vin. Picking up a cloth, he rinsed it in a basin of cold water and laid it across Chris' forehead before hurrying out of the door.

As he entered the Livery, he could see that both Chris and Vin's black geldings were in their stalls and he felt a brief swell of relief as he realised that the tracker had not left town. As he came back out into the daylight he paused, one hand on his head as he contemplated where to look next.

"I have brought you some breakfast, Senor Jackson." Nathan whirled at the sound of a woman's voice, and he saw Inez standing there with a covered tray in her hand. The Mexican frowned as she saw the troubled expression on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"Vin - have ya seen him?" he asked.

"Vin?" she repeated. "But I thought he was with you?"

"I wish he was." The healer gave an exasperated sigh. "I gotta find him. Can ya stay with Chris for me?"

"Of course." Inez could see how worried Nathan was and she gave her answer without hesitaion.

"Thank you, but if he wakes up don't let him out of bed!"

The girl smiled. That was an easy promise to keep. "I will tie him down if neccessary, senor." Despite his concern over Vin the healer could not help flashing her a quick smile. He knew that she was more than capable of carrying out that threat if the need arose.

As Nathan made his way along the main street towards Vin's wagon - the next obvious place to look - he was hailed from the opposite boardwalk by Samuel Wilkinson.

"Mr Jackson, you have to come quickly! Mr Standish sent me to find you."

"I'm sorry, Mr Wilkinson. It'll have to wait for a while."

"No. I insist you come now!" The urgency in the undertaker's tone sent a flutter of alarm through Nathan and he turned to follow the agitated man.

When Nathan first entered the office he saw Ezra sitting on the corner of Wilkinson's desk but then his gaze was drawn past him to the tracker who was sitting quietly in the chair set back a little way from the desk.

"Thank the Lord!" the healer breathed and then turned to Ezra. "Where'd ya find him?"

"He was sitting beside his father's coffin. Mr Wilkinson wasn't sure how long he had been there." There was a slight undercurrent of accusation in the gambler's words, but Nathan ignored it. "He seems to have cut his feet rather badly on the glass. You had better take a look."

The healer could see the spots of blood on the floor and he knealt down, lifting the tracker's feet into his lap. As he examined the bloody soles he could see that the left foot was worse than the right. Running his fingers gently along the lacerated skin he could feel the sharp splinters, and Vin gave a hiss of pain. Looking over his shoulder at the undertaker hovering anxiously in the background Nathan made his request.

"I'd be obliged if ya could get me some hot water and summat to bind his feet." As the man hurried to obey the healer looked up into Vin's face. "What the hell were ya thinkin' of?" he demanded softly, and he was surprised when Vin answered him.

"I jus'had t'be here. Reckon I owed him that."

Nathan shook his head sadly, accepting the tracker's explanation. Taking the bowl of water that Wilkinson brought him, he carefully lowered the tracker's feet into it, holding onto his ankles as Vin gasped and tried to pull away. His sensitive fingers found and removed the larger pieces of glass, but there were a few tiny splinters that eluded him and they would have to be dealt with back at the clinic. Using some of the long strips of material that Samuel Wilkinson had provided he wound them loosely about Vin's feet.

"Let me give you a hand getting him back," Ezra offered, but Vin pulled a face.

"I can walk," he stated emphatically and the gambler grinned.

"I have no doubt about that, my friend, but a little help would not come amiss."

Nathan was grateful for the gambler's intervention, knowing that despite his faults the Southerner had a genuine interest in Vin's well-being. As the two peacekeepers helped him to his feet, Vin turned and looked directly at the undertaker.

"You take good care of m'pa. Treat him respectful."

Wilkinson gulped and nodded at the unmistakeable menace in his voice. This was one funeral he would take the utmost care with.

Inez Recillos wandered around the clinic, looking at the neatly labeled jars of herbs and drugs that Nathan kept on his shelves. Whilst she was reasonably educated, she still stumbled over some of the names on the labels and she wondered what they were used for. Then she looked at the books on his table, her curiosity picqued, and she came to the conclusion that the healer was a very knowledgeable man.

Suddenly she heard a soft groan and she turned back to the bed, remembering her promise to Nathan. Chris Larabee was stirring restlessly and she removed the almost dry cloth from his forehead, moistening in the bowl of water before replacing it gently across his brow. As the damp cloth touched his forehead Chris started to open his eyes.

"N... athan... ?" he began, but a soft feminine voice answered him.

"No, senor. He is not here."

"Inez?" The gunslinger blinked in surprise. "What... are you doing... here? Where's... Nathan?"

Inez hesitated; she had seen how worried Nathan was when he had asked her to stay, and she did not want to upset the injured man any further. Reading the unspoken concern in her silence Chris turned and looked towards Vin's bed but the tracker was no longer there.

"Dammit! Where is he?" There was an edge of panic to the man's demand and the girl had no option but to tell him the truth.

"He is gone. Senor Jackson is looking for him."

"Shit!" Chris started to push back the covers but the young Mexican perched on the edge of the bed and forced him back down.

"I would not advise it, Senor." Inez gave a knowing smile. "You have no clothes on and there is a lady present."

Chris felt himself flushing with embarrassment as he realised that she spoke the truth and he sank back against the pillows, drawing the covers up to his chin.

"Would you like some water?" Inez could see how agitated and feverish he was and Chris nodded, realising that his leg would not allow him to move anyway. As she poured the liquid into a glass the gunslinger found himself thinking about Vin, wondering where the hell he had gone to. He had seen how disturbed the tracker had been the previous day and he knew that Nathan would not have let him go willingly, which meant that Vin had sneaked out surrepticiously. Chris could only hope that his young friend had not already left town in his confused state of mind.

As the girl brought the tumbler of water over to the bed they both heard the hesitant footsteps outside. They watched expectantly as the door opened and Chris forced himself up as Nathan and Ezra helped Vin inside.

"You found him!" Inez exclaimed, her tone indicating just how worried she had been.

"Yeah, he weren't far," Nathan explained as he sat the Texan on the edge of the spare bed and lifted his legs up. "Can ya boil me some water?"

"Si." Thrusting the glass at Ezra she filled the kettle and put it on the stove. The gambler stared at the glass for a moment in confusion and then went across to sit beside Chris.

"I believe you are in need of some refreshment, Mr Larabee," he stated, setting the glass on the side table as he helped the struggling gunslinger to sit up.

"Where'd you find him?" Chris demanded as the Southerner piled the pillows behind his back.

"He was... " Ezra hesitated, trying to find the right words. "He was at the undertakers. It appears he was keeping vigil over his father's body."

"Madre de Dios!" Inez exclaimed, crossing herself.

"So what's he done to his feet?" Chris could see the healer bending over Vin, bathing his feet and picking at something with his tweezers.

"Apparently he failed to see the broken glass on the floor." Ezra was not about to tell the gunslinger that their friend had broken into the funeral parlour like a common criminal.

Satisfied that he had removed all the splinters of glass Nathan smeared a thick salve across the soles of the tracker's feet and bound them loosely with clean bandages. Then he turned his attention to the lacerations on the young Texan's arm, cleaning them and taping a light dressing in place.

"Reckon ya oughta rest up here fer a few days," Nathan said as he smoothed down the last bandage. "Give 'em time t'heal."

"Sooner stay at m'wagon," Vin replied swinging his legs off the bed, but he saw the healer's look of disapproval and he hastened to reassure him. "S'okay. I ain't about to go anywhere 'til I buried m'pa."

"Alright." Nathan had no option but to agree. "Ya just take it easy an' keep off those feet as much as possible."

Vin nodded and reached for his boots, carefully pulling them on over the bandages. Standing up gingerly he felt himself sway slightly as he tried to keep his balance but then Ezra was beside him offering a hand in support.

"Allow me to help." the gambler said. "I was about to leave anyway." He turned and looked at his Mexican bartender. "Inez?"

"Is there anything else you require, Senor Jackson?" she asked.

"No - thanks. I'm fine now." Nathan knew that the Southerner would see Vin safely to his wagon and he was content.

Vin paused to pick up his hat and jacket and his eyes were drawn to the shirt that still bore the traces of his father's blood, shuddering as he re-lived the moment that he had held the dying man in his arms. As he moved towards the door, Ezra and Inez on either side of him, Chris called out to his friend.

"Vin - wait! We need to talk."

The tracker stopped and for a moment Chris thought he would turn and speak to him but then Vin reached for the door handle and limped from the clinic. The gunslinger slumped back with a groan, painfully aware that Vin had deliberately ignored him, and his feelings of guilt over Will Tanner's death grew stronger.

Nathan saw the gunslinger's dismayed expression and heard his soft groan and he knew that it was not just his wounds that caused Chris' pain. It was the bitter pill of a friend's rebuff that was hard to swallow.

"It's almost eleven o'clock, Buck." JD made the observation as he sat in the clinic with the ladies man and Nathan.

"Yeah I know, kid," Buck replied as he drained the last of the coffee from his cup.

"Reckon ya'd best be going then," Nathan put in and the ladies man looked at him in surprise.

"I thought you were coming too?"

"Was gonna. I promised Vin I'd be there when his pa was buried, but... " The healer paused, glancing across the room to the sleeping form of Chris Larabee. It had only been three days since he and Buck had brought the wounded gunslinger back to town and Chris was far from recovered. After Vin's precipitous departure from the clinic Chris' fever had grown worse, remaining dangerously high for almost twenty four hours. Nathan and Josiah had finally managed to get it down and now the gunslinger had fallen into an exhausted sleep, waking only occassionally to take some water or thin soup. "I ain't too happy 'bout leaving him," Nathan finished.

"I'll stay with him if you want," JD offered, surprising both men. The young peacekeeper had not been looking forward to attending Will Tanner's funeral. He had had little enough dealings with him in life and besides he was already upset at the prospect of Vin leaving.

"Thanks. He shouldn't give ya any trouble." Nathan slipped on his jacket and picked up his hat as he followed Buck out. JD went with them as far as the balcony and then he turned and went back in, coming to a startled stop just inside the doorway.

"Chris! What are you doing?"

The sound of Buck's voice had dragged Chris Larabee from his slumber some time ago but he had drifted in and out of sleep while the ladies man spoke with Nathan. He was content to lay there for the moment, knowing that any movement would spark off the pain in his leg.

"I promised Vin I'd be there when his pa was buried."

The comment from Nathan made Chris tense. He had not seen the tracker since he had limped out of the clinic with Inez and Ezra and he had no idea how much time had elapsed. He was terrified that the tracker might have left while he lay feverish and unconscious but the healer's words gave him a faint glimmer of hope. However, he knew that Nathan would not allow him up just yet and he doubted whether he could make it on his own anyway, but he desperately needed to speak to Vin. Then fate played right into his hands.

"I'll stay with him if you want," JD said, and Chris could see a way out of his dilemma. It took all his will power to remain quiet and still until he heard the others leave. Forcing himself into a sitting position the gunslinger pushed the sheet down and slowly swung his legs off the bed, gingerly putting his feet to the floor. He could feel the sweat trickling down his skin as his right leg started to throb and he clutched the sheet around his naked body.

"Chris! What are you doing?"

JD stared in horror at the trembling gunslinger as he sat on the edge of the bed. He had expected to find Chris still asleep, not halfway out of the clinic.

"What does it look like?" the older man gritted out. "Find me some clothes!"

"I don't think this a very good idea, Chris." JD took a hesitant step forward, seeing how much of an effort this was for the man. "Nathan'll kill me if I - "

"I'll kill you if you don't!" the gunslinger growled, and JD swallowed hard. "Just find me something to put on!"

The young peacekeeper had no choice; he could see how determined Chris was to leave and he knew that the gunslinger was going to attempt it, with or without his help. JD shook his head in despair as he went into Nathan's room, emerging a few moments later with a pair of pants and a dark grey shirt.

"Thanks, kid." Chris managed to slip the shirt on unaided but he needed JD's help with the pants and his boots. By the time he had finished he was beginning to feel a little dizzy with the pain, and JD was worried that he was about to pass out.

"Chris, this is stupid!" The young man tried once more to stop him but Chris was not about to be detered.

"Fetch me that broom," he demanded breathlessly. "And help me up."

It seemed to take forever to get down the clinic steps. Chris had his left arm draped across JD's shoulders whilst he used the broom as a makeshift crutch to support his injured leg.

"Where we going?" the young peacekeeper asked as they paused at the bottom of the stairs. The gunslinger did not answer immediately as he sagged against JD; he was too busy blinking sweat from his eyes and trying to catch his breath. "Chris? Where we going?"

"Cemetery." Chris forced his head up and peered along the street. "Gotta talk to Vin."

JD gave a resigned groan as they made their slow way down the street. At least Nathan and the others would be there when they arrived, and he would be able to hand the responsibility of the gunslinger over to them.

Vin Tanner did not feel the cold as he stood beside his father's grave. In fact he did not feel anything at all except numb. Even Josiah's words had washed over him without registering; he heard them but did not listen to them. The tracker was vaguely aware of Nathan and Ezra standing on either side of him, but he did not raise his head to acknowledge them, nor Buck who was standing a little further away. Nothing had distracted him from the sight of his father's coffin as it was lowered into the ground and he had gazed transfixed at it until Josiah had murmured a final 'Amen', but then he started as a hand touched his shoulder.

"Vin? Y'alright?" The healer was concerned by his friend's lack of reaction but in a way it was understandable.

Vin did not trust himself to answer. How could things ever be alright again? His life which had seemed so settled and content had been violently ripped apart by his own hands. The father he never knew existed had suddenly entered his life with plans and hopes for a future together, but those dreams had been snuffed out by a strange combination of doubt, mistrust, and loyalty.

"Ya need some time alone," Nathan stated. "We'll be in the saloon when yer ready."

The young Texan gave a tight nod as his friends moved away leaving him alone in the silence of his own thoughts. For several long minutes he remained staring at the open grave before turning to leave. He had only taken a few steps when he saw Chris Larabee standing by the entrance to the cemetery, JD at his side. The gunslinger was leaning heavily on a makeshift crutch while the younger peacekeeper spoke animatedly to him, but Chris did not appear to be listening as his hazel eys stayed fixed on the tracker.

Vin could feel himself quivering as he stared back, a myriad emotions suddenly rising to the surface as though the gunslinger's presence had provided the catalyst for their release. He saw JD back away as Chris spoke to him, seemingly reluctant to leave, but then that was forgotten as the gunslinger hobbled forward a few paces and blocked his path.

"Get outta m'way, Chris." The Texan's voice was low and angry but the other man did not move.

"Not until we've talked."

"Ain't nothin' t'talk about." The tracker took another step forward but Chris stood his ground. Vin could see how much of an effort it was for the gunslinger just to remain on his feet, but he refused to allow himself to feel a shred of compassion.

"D'you think I wanted this to happen?"

"Well it did, and I gotta live with that for the rest of m'life."

"I'm sorry." Chris did not know what else to say. "If I could change anything - "

"Sorry?" The young tracker's voice rose as he interupted. His overwhelming emotion now was anger and he was ready to lash out at the person closest to him. "Y'ain't sorry! Ya tried t'turn me against him all along!" Vin was no longer thinking clearly about what he said. "It's all yer fault he's dead. I mighta pulled the trigger but yer the one who killed my pa!"

The gunslinger drew a sharp breath; Vin's words were like a knife twisting in his guts but he could not help thinking that his friend was right. Maybe he had been a fool for going out to the ranch. Maybe he should simply have let Vin go, but he knew that he would not have rested easy with that decision. Will Tanner had as good as admitted his involvement in Ben Richardson's troubles and the untimely death of James Owen, and also that he had been responsible for his own father's fatal heart seizure. Although Chris felt as guilty as hell his instincts about the man had been proven correct but Vin would never see it that way.

"What? Nothin' to say, Larabee?" Vin snapped, and Chris looked down so that the other man could not see the hurt and despair in his eyes. "Seems t'me ya weren't short on words before."

"Don't you see? The man was a double-crossing liar and maybe even a murderer." Chris looked up slowly, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he forced the words out knowing how provocative they would be, and the gunslinger saw the look of cold fury that passed across Vin's face.

"Ya take that back right now!" he hissed but Chris persisted.

"Why? 'Cos you know it's true?"

"Bastard!" The gunslinger did not even have time to blink as Vin's fist connected with his jaw and he sprawled heavily on the ground. A cry of pain burst from his lips as he landed on his injured right leg but the Texan did not even seem to notice as he stood over the fallen man.

"Yer a liar!" he spat, grabbing the front of Chris' shirt and trying to haul him to his feet. "Get up!" he yelled.

"I ain't gonna fight you." Even if he had wanted to Chris would not physically have been able to manage it. Pain throbbed through his thigh and he could feel the blood from the re-opened wound trickling down his leg as he sat there.

"Yer a lousy coward! Ya got no right t'say that!" Vin was infuriated now and he could feel the hot tears rolling unashamedly down his cheeks but it was not just the grief that had caught up with him now. It was the bitter frustration and anger as he considered that Chris might very well be right. "To think I called ya my friend," he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "Guess I was a damn fool after all!"

As Vin continued to rant at him Chris remained sitting on the ground, his head bowed despondantly as the young Texan's recriminations fell around him like the earlier snow. The irony of where they were was not lost on him; their friendship had been forged in this very place as they saved Nathan from a lynch mob and now the wheel seemed to have turned full circle. That same friendship lay dying around him, snatched up and tossed away by the winter winds, and there was nothing he could do to save it.

"Of all the stupid, pig-headed... Why don't he ever listen?"

"Who? Chris?"

"No - JD." Buck sounded exasperated as he and Nathan hurried back to the cemetery. "All he had to do was sit and watch him."

"Ya can't blame him, Buck. Chris probably scared the hell outta him! I just hope he ain't done summat stupid."

Nathan sounded worried as he recalled JD's frantic arrival at the saloon. 'Chris has gone to talk to Vin,' he had said and Buck had immediately demanded to know how, and the young peacekeeper had had to admit he had been coerced into helping by the gunslinger. Buck had made vociferous remarks about JD's foolishness but the healer had been more concerned for Chris' well-being. The gunslinger was not in a fit state to be out of bed, let alone confronting someone whose emotional state was unpredictable.

"What the... ?" Buck uttered the exclamation as they reached the cemetery and saw Vin standing over Chris, his hands clenched into fists. "Get the hell away from him!" the ladies man ordered as he rushed forward and flung his arms around the tracker, physically hauling him back. The tracker thrust his arms up and broke Buck's grip on him, straightening his jacket as he glared down at the gunslinger.

"That's jus' what I aim to do!" Vin snapped, his eyes flashing fire. Without a backward glance the young Texan stormed off in the direction of the Livery.

"Where the hell's he going?" Buck demanded and he looked down at the sound of Chris' voice.

"Leaving."

Nathan was kneeling beside the gunslinger, a hand on his shoulder as he surveyed the dark stain soaking through the material of Chris' pants.

"What happened?" the healer wanted to know, but as Chris looked up he could clearly see for himself. Blood marked the corner of the gunslinger's mouth and a bruise was already beginning to darken on his jaw, but it was the pain in his eyes that told the whole story.

"He's leaving for good, Nathan, and there ain't a damn thing I can do about it."

Nathan had never heard such raw emotion and defeat in Chris' voice and he could not find the right words to ease the gunslinger's suffering. However, there was something that required more immediate attention.

"Let's get that leg seen to. Buck - can ya gimme a hand?"

Vin was having trouble saddling his black gelding. His anger had dissipated by the time he entered the Livery but his sorrow and regret refused to go away. Desperately he tried to blink back the tears that blurred his vision but there was no going back now. He had flung too many harsh and hurtful words at his friend, and he doubted that Chris would ever forgive him any more than he forgave himself for killing his own father.

The tracker had no idea where he was going to go; he had already packed what he needed some days before when he rode out to join his father, and now all he had to do was saddle his horse. Tightening the last buckle he led Peso out into the daylight and then stopped as he caught sight of Chris being helped back to the clinic by Buck and Nathan, but Vin had no desire to face any one of them again. Everything was simply too painful so he swung quickly into the saddle.

As he rode away a chill breeze froze the tears to his cheeks, cold glistening drops that matched the ache in his heart.

Chris was grateful to Buck and Nathan for their support as he limped heavily down the main street. He did not know what he had hoped to achieve by confronting Vin at the cemetery, but he realised that he had to make this one last effort. The gunslinger was already feeling the full weight of blame for Will Tanner's death even before Vin had tossed the accusations at his feet, but he was not angry. His friend had had to make a dreadful choice out at the ranch and he was still wondering why Vin had chosen to save him instead of his father.

Suddenly Chris stopped and looked up as Vin came from the stable leading his horse, but the tracker gave no sign that he had even seen him. The gunslinger watched as he climbed into the saddle, heading out of town without a backward glance.

"Dammit Vin!" he groaned, slumping between his two friends.

"D'you want me to go after him?" Buck asked, hearing Chris' utter despair.

"There's no point. I've lost him." The gunslinger's voice cracked with pent up emotion, his misery totally complete. Buck could see the tears forming in his eyes and the ladies man cursed softly; he cursed Vin and he cursed Chris and the vagueries of fate that had brought them both to this impass.

"Chris?"

The gunslinger ignored Nathan as he watched Vin disappear from sight; he had not felt such loss and hopelessness since Sarah and Adam had died. There had been nothing he could do about that either.

"Just take me back to the clinic." Chris' voice was flat and toneless, and Nathan glanced at him in concern. This was a side of the gunslinger that he had never seen before and he looked anxiously at Buck.

The ladies man shook his head sadly; he had been down this path before with his friend and he had hoped that it was something he would never see again, but it appeared that history was repeating itself.

+ + + + + + +

Almost three weeks had passed since Will Tanner's burial and Vin's subsequent departure and the town was slowly returning to normal. However, for some people things would never be the same again.

Chris Larabee had spent most of that time in the clinic; Vin's leaving had had a detremental effect on the gunslinger's health and his re-opened wound had become badly infected. At one point Nathan had even feared that Chris would succumb to gangrene and it had taken all of his skill and knowledge to keep the life-threatening condition at bay. Even once the infection was starting to clear the gunslinger remained apathetic and listless, silently taking any medicine and nourishment that was forced on him.

Nathan grew increasingly concerned by Chris' calm acceptance of his ministrations; so many times in the past the healer had wished for his patients to be a little more co-operative but now that it had happened he found it unnerving. This was not the Chris Larabee he was used to. It was as though the gunslinger did not want to recover. However, his physical condition had improved due to Nathan's perseverence and eventually the healer had to let him leave with strict instructions to take things easy, but although the external wounds had healed there were others, deeper and hidden far away, that were still raw and bleeding.

The other peacekeepers kept a watchful eye on him and Buck was confounded when Chris did not immediately turn to the bottle. Instead he was like a man simply going through the motions of life, eating and sleeping when he had to but barely talking to anybody. The others were still upset about Vin going but now their anxiety was focussed on the gunslinger and his unnatural reaction to the traumatic events.

On the evening of the third day after he had been released from the clinic Chris walked into the saloon and ordered himself a beer before joining his friends at their usual table in the corner.

"Chris." Buck raised his glass in acknowledgement.

"I think you ought to know I'll be leaving in the morning." The gunslinger took a sip of his beer as he let his words sink in, and it was JD who voiced all of their thoughts.

"Y'gonna look for Vin!" he stated excitedly. "We'll come with you."

"Nope. I'm just leaving." The others were too stunned to speak as Chris drained his beer and slowly stood up. "Goodbye boys." He glanced around at their shocked faces before turning on his heel and limping out. JD scrambled to his feet as if to go after him but Buck caught his arm and sat him back down.

"Let him go, kid." Buck was not as surprised as the others; he had been expecting this for a while now and he knew better than to try and stop Chris. He had seen the gunslinger plunge into the same headlong depression that had taken him after the deaths of Sarah and Adam, seen the same bitter anger and frustration at his own helplessness, and even though he had not stepped onto the dangerous path to self-destruction it could only be a matter of time.

+ + + + + + +

Mary Travis turned and walked back along the boardwalk, carefully watching the door for any sign of movement. It was still fairly early but some of the towns people were up and about and they cast curious glances at her as she paced back and forth. Suddenly the door creaked and swung open.

"Mary." As Chris came out of the boarding house he was a little surprised to find the newspaperwoman waiting for him. A thick woollen shawl was pulled about her shoulders and her blonde hair was somewhat dishevelled, almost as though she had been in a hurry.

"They told me you were leaving. How can you go like this? It's not right."

"I can't stay. Not now."

"I know how much you miss him." Mary saw the gunslinger flinch even though she had not said the tracker's name, but she pressed on desperately. "But he'll be back. You'll see."

Chris stared at her, seeing the anguish in her eyes and he shook his head. "It's been nearly a month now. He won't be back."

"Then you've got to go and find him!"

"I can't," the gunslinger replied softly. "It's time to move on." He started to walk away, but Mary clutched at his arm.

"So you're just going to abandon your duties? Your responsibilties to these people?" There was a touch of anger in her voice now.

"They don't need me. Buck and the others can look after Four Corners."

"Then to hell with the town!" Mary looked up at him, her voice breaking as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Can't you see that I need you?"

Chris looked at her for a long moment. He had been aware of Mary's feelings towards him for some time now and it would have been all too easy to allow himself to fall in love with her, but the memory of Sarah and Adam always held him back.

"I know, Mary. I'm sorry, but I can't stay." The gunslinger reached out and gently cupped her chin, tilting her tear-streaked face up. "Goodbye," he whispered, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

Chris could hear her sobbing as he walked away but he dared not look back for fear of losing his resolve. His mind was made up and he could not allow anyone to stop him now.

The gunslinger flexed his arm experimentally, easing the last traces of stiffness from his fingers before settling the blanket over the back of his black gelding. Smoothing it into place he picked up the saddle, his actions instinctive as his mind churned over the events of the last few weeks. He had made his decision to go when he had watched Vin riding away after his father's funeral but his injuries had prevented that. As he recovered his determination had grown stronger even though he was aware that everybody else wanted him to remain in Four Corners. Once again Chris saw the image of Mary Travis crying and he knew that it would be harder to stay than to leave.

"So where y'gonna go?"

The gunslinger jumped as Buck spoke, his lack of concrentration indicative of his feelings and Pony flinched away nervously. Chris turned round and the ladies man felt his own heart constricting as he saw the tormented expression on his friend's face.

"Dunno. I ain't thought about it much."

Buck stepped forward and rested his arms on the top rail of the stall. "You can still change your mind, y'know. We can still go and look for Vin."

Chris turned away and carried on saddling Pony. "He don't wanna be found, Buck. 'Sides, you told me to let him go, so I did."

"Don't you set the blame on me for this. Not this time." The ladies man sounded angry as he walked into the black's stall to face his friend.

"I ain't about to," Chris told him with a sigh. "If anyone's to blame it's me.

As Buck watched the gunslinger secure his saddlebags he knew with absolute certainty that he would not be back and he wondered whether he would ever see his friend again. There was something in Chris' eyes that scared the hell out of him; it was as though half of his soul had been wrenched from him, and Buck had seen this before. Then the gunslinger had drifted from one dangerous situation to another, with no thought or care for his own life until he had reached Four Corners. This time there would be no Vin Tanner to save Chris from himself. No-one should have to face such a devastating loss twice, but Chris had turned away from him four years ago and he was doing it again now.

"What about her?" Buck asked, indicating the Arab mare standing placidly in the stall next to Pony. Chris glanced over the gelding's back, seeing part of another dream that had died before it had really had the chance to begin, but the gunslinger was intent on severing all ties to this part of his life.

"See if y'can get a good price for her and give the money to Josiah. The church can always use it."

Buck nodded as he tried desperately to put off the painful moment of farewell, but as Chris stepped forward and held out his hand he found he had nothing left to say.

"Goodbye, Buck."

The ladies man hesitated for a moment before grasping his friend's hand firmly and pulling him forward.

"Y'take care of yerself, y'hear?" he whispered in a choked voice as he caught Chris in a bone-crushing hug.

"You too, Buck." The gunslinger's words were muffled against the other man's shoulder but then he pulled away and gathered up Pony's reins as he led the horse from the stall. Buck walked silently beside him until they reached the street and then he hung back as Chris climbed slowly into the saddle. The gunslinger turned and looked over his shoulder along the main street of Four Corners as if for the last time, and then he urged the black forward as he rode off towards an unknown future.

Nathan stood quietly on the balcony of the clinic as the tall figure of Chris Larabee rode away, unable to believe that he was really going. He saw Buck, forlorn and bereft, wipe the tears from his eyes unaware that he was being observed, and the healer felt the weight of anguish in his own heart. His worry and anxiety for Chris and Vin would haunt him for a long time to come, but his immediate concern was how it would effect everybody else. The seven men had forged a seemingly unbreakable bond of friendship and loyalty, but now that lay in shreds.

Only time would tell what else would be ruined by the irreparable rift between Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner.

FINIS

When did you stop lookin' homeward - Deep in trouble endlessly.

Just like a ghost 'cross the water - You disappeared quietly.

Now every day seems too long - And everythin' just goes wrong.

So when d'ya start to live again - Oh what a way for this to end.

Chorus

You better let somebody in - No open door to anything.

You better let somebody in - The time's growin' shorter.

Let somebody in - You're gonna lose it all again.

You better let somebody in - Before your blood turns to water.

Let Somebody In by Magnum

Lyrics by Tony Clarkin

<>

Disclaimer: The Magnificent Seven characters are the property of MGM, Trilogy, and the Mirisch Company. We just borrowed them, abused them a little (or a lot!), and sadly gave them back.

A HUGE thank you to Winnie for taking the time to beta this fic for us when she is so busy with her own, and thanks also to Candace for allowing us to use her poem at the beginning. A final mention must go to Tony Clarkin and Bob Catley of Magnum for their musical inspiration.

February 2004

Choices

I talk but I am not listened to.

I exist but I am not seen.

I am drowning in tears,

I dwell in a sea of sadness

Darkness falls; there is no escape for me.

C.A.S. Sarling

Part One

Chris Larabee glanced across towards the jailhouse as he rode down the main street of Four Corners on his way to the Livery. It was approaching noon, which probably meant that his fellow peacekeepers would already be gathering at the saloon, and having ridden hard from the previous nights camp he felt more than ready for a cold beer. He had just returned from Fort Ripley after escorting three Army deserters back for court martial, and had been pleased that the eight day round trip had gone without incident.

As the gunslinger got closer to the stable he saw Nathan Jackson coming down the steps of the clinic, and the tall healer paused as Chris nodded in greeting. Drawing level with the bottom stair the gunslinger pulled his horse to a stop so he could talk to the other man.

“Chris? Where’s Vin? Lord, I hope ya’ll ain’t gonna tell me that y’had some trouble?" Nathan knew that both men had been handling the escort duty between them, and the sudden concern in his question made the older man immediately shake his head.

“Nope. Don’t get all fired up, Nathan! Everything went fine. In fact, Vin and me had a real pleasant trip back once we offloaded those yahoos but he decided to head out to Nettie’s place ‘cos she needed some repairs doing.” Nathan grinned, but the relief was plainly apparent on his face and in his next statement.

“Glad t’hear that, Chris! How long is he likely t’be gone?”

“Coupla days mebbe. But you know how Nettie likes to feed him up – reckon she has a special baking session just for Vin!” The older man smiled ruefully.

“Sounds ‘bout right!” Nathan chuckled, as he thought of the young Texan’s liking for the plainswoman’s home cooking. Chris casually glanced around the nearly deserted street as the healer reached the bottom of the staircase.

“You heading for the saloon, Nathan?”

“Reckon I might get summat in m’stomach soon, but I need to pick up a parcel from Mr Watson first. I’ll see ya there later, huh?” The healer gave his friend a distracted wave as he sauntered off in the direction of the General Store.

It did not take Chris long to get his black gelding rubbed down and fed, and throwing his saddlebags over his shoulder he made his way to the saloon.

On entering the building Chris’ hazel eyes swept around the room. It was fairly crowded considering the time of day, but he noticed Buck Wilmington lounging against the bar and the gunslinger made his way across to join him.

“Hey, Chris. Just got back?” Buck signalled the barkeep for two more beers, and then turned expectantly to face his oldest friend. Chris picked up his glass, and took a long swig of the cold drink.

“Yeah. Vin had some business at Nettie’s, so he’ll see us in a few days.”

The two peacekeepers stood in silence for a while, slouching with their backs to the counter as they assessed the occupants of the room, their caution through years of experience spent caught up in dangerous situations never quite leaving them.

“Any trouble in town since we’ve been gone?” the gunslinger asked.

“Had us a few drunken trailhands fighting last night. They were just lettin’ off steam really, so we tossed ‘em in the cells to sleep it off. Those boys were still snoring fit t’bust when I left the jail earlier, but they’ll soon sober up when JD gets ‘em to swilling out!” Buck grinned widely at his friend and Chris snorted in dismissal.

“Yeah. Vin and I saw the herd ‘bout five miles out of town, but the trail boss said they’ll be moving on soon.” Looking around once more, the gunslinger’s attention was drawn to a corner table where a game of poker was being played, and it came as no surprise to the peacekeeper when he noticed that Ezra Standish was the man dealing the cards. Josiah sat to the gambler’s right, but Chris frowned curiously at the stranger seated next to the ex-preacher.

The middle-aged man was of a similar build to the gunslinger, with short dark blond hair slightly greying at the sides, and although his clothing was fairly nondescript Chris’ gaze came to rest on the ornately carved, brown leather gun belt around the man's waist. It was obvious from the stranger’s low-tied rig that he was a deadly exponent of the art of triggernometry, and although the man appeared to be relaxed as he played his hand, Chris recognised the telltale signs of vigilance exhibited by the newcomer.

“Who’s that playing poker with Ezra and Josiah?”

Buck looked around, his own eyes following his friend’s inquisitive stare. “Will Grainger. He’s one of the fellas working for that new family that's bought the old Macready place. He’s been in town for a few days getting the feel of the place. I think mebbe he’s looking to hire some help.”

Chris nodded slowly, and took a thoughtful sip of his beer. He recalled Mary Travis telling him about the newcomers several weeks ago, and there was little disguising her enthusiastic interest at the prospect of the well-to-do immigrants arriving in Four Corners.

"They're here?"

"Yep. They arrived the day after you and Vin left. They seem like a real nice family." Buck suddenly laughed. "Even Nathan was impressed. 'Course that could have been because one of them was a for-real doctor!"

Ben Richardson and his family hailed from the St Helens region of Liverpool, England, and had made their money through three generations of the tea trade. Bored with the constraints of life as a merchant, Richardson had brought his young family to the Americas, looking for a new challenge. He had purchased the Macready property at auction, sight unseen, with the aim of breeding Arab horses with the native American stock after obtaining Government and Territorial rights for the venture. Little else was known about the Richardson's despite Mary's enquiries, and Chris had been hoping to meet them when they arrived.

A loud burst of laughter from the corner table drew his attention back to the poker players, and as a smiling Grainger got to his feet and headed towards them Chris turned back to the bar, hunching over his drink. He seemed disinterested in the stranger's approach, but Buck knew that with Chris appearances were deceiving.

“Hey Will. Looks like you’re having a bit of luck over there. It ain’t often that someone gets one over on Ezra, so I reckon you’d best make the most of it.” Buck turned to face the older man as he came to stand beside him, dropping his elbow casually on the bar and Will Grainger gave a short laugh.

“Hmm. It seems like lady luck’s favouring the fair today, so I reckon the next round's on me! You and yer friend ready for another beer?”

Chris frowned as he gave Grainger a sidelong look. It was clear from the other’s accent that he hailed from the State of Texas, and the peacekeeper wondered why the new arrivals needed to employ an evidently experienced gunman.

“Waal, that’s right decent of you, Will,” Buck answered, giving his oldest friend a discreet nudge with his elbow. “Hey, Chris, meet Will Grainger. Will, this is Chris Larabee.”

The Texan held out his hand in greeting, a ready smile on his lips as he regarded the black dressed man with interest. Grainger had heard much about the reputation of this formidable gunman, and the additional information he had gathered since arriving in Four Corners had only increased his professional curiosity. Chris reached across in front of Buck and shook the offered hand.

“Howdy. Hear you’re working for the Richardsons.” The gunslinger let his gaze linger on the man's tied-down holster for a moment before looking back at him. "You don't strike me as the ranching kind."

Buck shot him a quick look, wondering what was going through his friend's mind. Chris might not be the easiest person to get along with but he was not normally this suspicious when meeting someone for the first time without a very good reason. Fortunately, Grainger did not seem offended by the comment and he signalled for some more beers before turning his attention back to the two peacekeepers.

“Yer right. I ain't. Richardson was having some fuss with a coupla hombres on the trail. I jus' happened along and helped him out."

"What kind of trouble?" Chris looked at Buck sharply. The ladies man had not mentioned this to him before.

"Richardson didn't say, but it happened way before they even got to Eagle Bend." Buck could see the accusation in his friend's eyes, but he had been truthful. There had been no further trouble since the family had arrived at the ranch.

"Richardson didn't wanna take any chances, so he asked me to stay on," Grainger explained. "I said I'd hire him a coupla extra fellas who know how t'use their guns."

The gunslinger nodded thoughtfully. As Grainger continued speaking affably to Buck, Chris silently observed the man; there was a sense of familiarity about the Texan that caused the gunslinger’s finely tuned instincts to inexplicably ignite, but it was difficult to pinpoint the reason behind that feeling. The name was not that unusual but he felt certain that he had never met the man before, which made his reaction even more perplexing. Grainger glanced over to the table where Josiah was looking expectantly towards the bar.

“I’d best get back to the game, and give the fellas a chance to win some money off o'me,” he said. "D'ya fancy a quick game, Chris?” The gunslinger shook his head wordlessly, but Grainger shrugged lightly at the younger man's diffidence. “Waal, mebbe later." As he started to move away he paused in front of the black dressed man. "Hey cowboy - d'ya wanna earn some extra dollars?"

Cowboy. Buck visibly winced and tensed as he waited for his normally volatile friend to explode. To his amazement it did not happen. The sidelong glare that Chris flashed disdainfully at Grainger would have had wiser or less brave people hunting for the storm-shelters, but the Texan did not flinch. With a contemptuous sniff Chris turned back to his beer, studying the half-empty glass intently.

"Not interested," he growled. Beside him Buck breathed a sigh of relief.

"Waal, how 'bout yer friend Tanner then?" Grainger blithely offered his jaw for a second free punch. "I hear he's a Texan so he must be pretty handy wit' his gun."

Buck was beginning to think that Will Grainger had a death wish as he saw his friend suddenly stiffen, although the gunslinger refrained from saying anything immediately. Chris felt a fleeting sense of unease as he straightened and turned, his hazel eyes meeting the other’s disarming blue gaze, and for a split second he had a strange feeling of disquiet at the other’s innocuous comment.

“Vin ain't no gun for hire - no more'n I am!" Chris’ scathing reply made Buck look at his friend warily. For a long ten seconds Grainger stared at the gunslinger. He now had the measure of this man, and he knew that he would make a very good friend or an equally dangerous enemy.

"No offence. It was jus' a thought." With a nod of acknowledgement Grainger ambled back to the table to rejoin Josiah and Ezra.

The gunslinger turned and leaned back against the counter, his keen eyes missing nothing as he watched the older Texan in the bar mirror. Picking up his beer Chris took a gulp as Buck leaned closer and hissed angrily in his ear.

"What the hell was that all about? The man was only asking!"

"It was the way he was asking."

"What?" Buck could not believe his ears. He had never seen the gunslinger get so rattled so quickly. "Jeez, Chris - what is it with you? You've only just met the man!"

In all honesty Chris could not answer the question. He could not say why he had taken such an instant dislike to Grainger but there was one thing he was sure about.

"Don't you think he looks kinda familiar?"

"Not especially." The tall peacekeeper threw a swift glance around at the preoccupied Texan, but for the life of him he could not see what Chris was getting at.

"What do we really know about him, Buck?”

Buck Wilmington had spent too many years riding with the gunslinger not to realise that the man was troubled by the presence of Will Grainger.

“Not a lot, but he seems a nice enough fella. He ain’t really been doing much, apart from getting to know folks and hanging around the saloon.” Buck frowned, unsure where this line of questioning was going. “Why?”

“Dunno, Buck. There’s just summat about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

The tall peacekeeper knew that Chris would continue to brood on the subject, particularly as his friend was unable to identify the true cause of his misgivings. However, Buck was not prepared to pursue the matter at this point in time, knowing that the gunslinger needed to find his own answers.

Finishing his beer Chris gave his companion a farewell nod, before re-adjusting his saddlebags and leaving the saloon. Perhaps in the peaceful solitude of the bathhouse some type of explanation might present itself.

+ + + + + + +

"So tell me again about this fella Grainger."

The comment came from Vin as he and Chris approached what had once been the Macready ranch. Two days had passed since Chris' inauspicious meeting with Will Grainger, and he was beginning to think he might have over-reacted. Everyone from Buck and Mary had made it quite clear that the man was pleasant and polite and easy to get along with. Maybe he was being just a little too hasty in his initial assessment and he was allowing paranoia to over-ride his common sense.

"There ain't much to tell. The man's a Texan and he's working for Richardson." That was really all Chris did know and before Vin could question him further he spurred his horse forward, pushing the black to a steady lope.

Even before Mary had made the request, Chris had decided to pay a visit on the Richardson family and check out Grainger's claims about the trouble they were supposed to be having. He was also curious to meet these people for himself. It was Vin's suggestion that he accompany him to 'ride off some of Nettie's fine cooking'!

As they neared the sprawling homestead, Chris noted with approval that Ben Richardson was not a man to take things for granted. As they rode up the dusty trail and under the archway into the main yard the two peacekeepers could see at least half a dozen hands busy at work.

"Impressive."

There was a faint hint of envy in Chris Larabee's voice as he regarded the ranch buildings. The main house was built in the style of a Mexican hacienda, although it was a touch more modest than the grandiose sizes of those across the border. The flat-roofed, two-storey structure had a porch running along the entire front, surrounded by a low stone wall, while several smaller balconies lead off of some of the upper rooms. To the left of the house was a large barn, with a smaller building just to the side of it. The main corral ran at least forty feet from the front end of the barn, and the four horses within the enclosure would have caught the eye anywhere. Beyond the barn was a long low building, and Chris guessed that this would be the bunkhouse.

"Chris."

The gunslinger did not need Vin to point out the man on the roof of the house, a rifle cradled in the crook of his arm.

"Looks like Grainger was telling the truth." He had also noticed that every man working around the property had his gunbelt strapped on, an unusual practise this close to the house.

"Howdy Chris, Vin." The greeting came from a young man fixing the top rail to the large corral adjacent to the barn.

"Hey, Jack. How long you bin working here?" Vin grinned at the man he recognised from town. Obviously some of the local people were finding gainful employment.

"About a week now."

"Had any trouble since you've been here?" Chris wanted to know, but the man shook his head.

"Nope. It's been real peaceful," Jack Chambers replied.

Chris glanced around again; an older man was just climbing down from the water tower with a hammer in his hand, and beyond him he could see a young woman removing clothes from the line beside the main house.

"Where can I find this fella Richardson?" Chris asked, and was surprised when the man holding the hammer replied.

"I'm Ben Richardson. What can I do for you?"

Chris raised one eyebrow as he glanced at Vin before swinging down from his black. Gripping the reins in his left hand he held out the right to the man in front of him.

"The name's Chris Larabee. This is Vin Tanner." He indicated the tracker as he too slipped from the saddle to stand beside his friend. "We help keep the peace in Four Corners."

"I'm very pleased to meet you. I've heard a lot about you, Mr Larabee." Ben Richardson spoke with an unusual accent, but his smile was warm enough and his handshake was firm. He looked to be about the same age as Chris but slightly shorter and stockier, and his hair was dark - almost black - and curling above his ears. Laughter lines crinkled about his brown eyes as he turned to Vin. "You too, Mr Tanner. It's just a pity Will isn't around at the moment because I know he's been looking forward to meeting you."

"Me?" There was a wariness in the tracker's voice. Vin could not help but wonder whether Grainger was seeking him out for a particular reason.

"Unfortunately he's gone into Eagle Bend to collect some supplies, but I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for you two to meet." Richardson dropped the hammer into the toolbox and rubbed the dirt from his hands. "So what brings you two gentleman out here?"

"Grainger mentioned you were having some trouble." Chris looked pointedly at the armed men. "I see you're already prepared."

The Englishman shrugged. "It's merely a precaution. I've heard a lot about the West, and I need to protect my family until we get used to things."

"Seems to me like you're going about it the right way, Mr Richardson," Vin stated.

"Please - call me Ben. But first, can I offer you some refreshment. Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee'll be fine." Chris found himself warming to this forthright Englishman. When Mary Travis had first told him about the Richardson's imminent arrival he had been a bit sceptical. He had met a number of wealthy people in the past and had found them to be rather shallow and superficial. Ben Richardson was a pleasant surprise. He had realised that when he had seen him working alongside his men.

"Jack? Can you take care of the horses?"

"Sure thing, Mr Richardson."

As Chambers stepped forward to relieve them of their mounts Chris found his gaze wandering once again to the horses in the corral. Richardson smiled. He could see that the gunslinger had an appreciation for fine animals.

"What do you think of them? Four of the finest Godolphin mares you'll see this side of Newmarket!"

Chris had no idea what Richardson meant by 'Godolphin mares' nor where Newmarket was, but he could hear the excitement and pride in the man's voice and he had to agree that he never seen anything finer.

"They're beautiful alright," Chris enthused, walking across to the corral for a closer look. A pale grey mare stepped forward, poking her nose through the rails and snuffling softly into the gunslinger's outstretched hand. "They'll make a good base for breeding some fine stock," he said, rubbing his fingers gently down the wide forehead and across the finely shaped muzzle.

"I think so." Richardson smiled; Chris Larabee was a man after his own heart and he had one more thing to show him but that would have to wait for a while. "Come on. I'd like you to meet my wife."

They followed Richardson onto the porch of the house, but instead of going in he lead them around to the side of the building where the young woman had just finished unpegging the last of the laundry. For the first time both peacekeepers noticed the small child gripping hold of her apron strings and hiding behind her skirt.

"Amy, I want you to meet Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner. They're the lawmen in Four Corners. Gentlemen - my wife, Amelia."

Amelia Richardson looked to be at least ten years younger than her husband. Of medium height she was slight without being thin, and long whisps of red-gold hair escaped from the green ribbon that held it back from her pretty, freckled face.

"Mrs Richardson." Chris touched his hat politely, and the woman shot her husband an embarrassed look as she wiped her hands on her apron and tried to tuck the strands of hair back into place.

"Pleased to meet you both. Won't you come inside?" As she bent down to pick up the washing basket Vin stepped forward.

"Let me get that fer ya, ma'am." Before the woman could protest the tracker had scooped the basket up, but as he straightened he saw a pair of wide blue eyes staring at him from beneath a mop of blonde curls. Vin smiled; the little girl had her thumb stuck firmly in her mouth whilst she clutched a rag doll in her other hand, her expression coy as she regarded the tracker. "Hey there!" he said softly, but the girl ducked back behind her mother. Amelia Richardson reached down and laughed, gently drawing her daughter out from behind her.

"Emily, say hello to Mr Larabee and Mr Tanner." Blue eyes gazed up at each man in turn before the defiant answer came.

"No!" Dropping her rag doll she fled into the house. The four adults laughed as Richardson retrieved the doll.

"I'm sorry about that," he said. "She's not normally that shy."

"Reckon Chris musta scared the poor li'l thing." There was a mischievous glint in Vin's eyes and he prepared to duck as he made the statement, but the gunslinger was content to simply give him a half-hearted glare as they followed the Richardson's inside. Just as Ben closed the front door a young man came down the hallway towards them, the little girl in his arms.

"James! We have visitors!" Amelia exclaimed. "This is Mr Larabee and Mr Tanner."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm James Owen."

"Amelia's brother in case you hadn't realised," Ben said with a smile. He had seen the startled look on the peacekeepers faces but he was used to that kind of reaction when people met the twin brother and sister for the first time. James was a little taller but he had the same red-gold hair and blue eyes as Amelia, and their features were remarkably similar. "He's also an excellent doctor." The young Englishman looked a little embarrassed by his brother-in-law's words as he set his niece down on the floor.

"So I heard." Chris had learned from Nathan that James Owen had only recently qualified before coming to America, and the healer had expressed his interest in talking with him further.

"We were just about to have some lunch," Amelia stated. "Would you care to join us?"

Vin glanced at Chris, seeing the dubious look on his face, and he made the decision for them. "That's mighty nice of ya, ma'am, but we wouldn't t'put ya t'any trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble," she assured him brightly. "I'll just ask Mrs Roberts to fetch two extra plates."

By the time Vin and Chris had eaten lunch with their hosts the four men were on first name terms. They had also met the Richardson's older child Edward when he had taken a break from his schooling, although his governess had declined to eat with the peacekeepers, much to Ben's amusement.

Richardson had gone on to explain to them how he had acquired the property, but it was the trouble they had encountered on the way out and the discovery of a warning note nailed to the front door when they arrived that disturbed Chris the most because it meant that the threat had followed them West.

"I must tell you that Will Grainger has been an absolute godsend! When those ruffians tried to ambush us I dread to think what might have happened if he hadn't come along. Amy and the children were terrified, and poor James was so nervous he could barely hold the rifle!"

Richardson made the observation as the two peacekeepers got ready to leave. As they headed towards the main barn where their horses had been put up for the last hour or so, Richardson suddenly indicated the smaller building.

"There's something I'd like you to see before you go," he said, sliding open the door. As they stepped inside Chris whistled appreciatively. The horse in the loose box turned to face them, ears pricked as he regarded the newcomers with interested curiosity.

"That's one helluva stud!" the gunslinger breathed, keeping a respectable distance between himself and the Arab stallion. The bright bay coat gleamed like burnished copper, and the black mane and tail were fine and silky. Dark liquid eyes studied them intelligently, and Vin could not help smiling at the rapt expression on Chris' face.

"He's called 'Mersey Prince'. I thought you'd like to see him."

"He's a real beauty." Chris took a cautious step forward and offered his hand slowly and the stallion arched his neck, nostrils flaring as he tested the new scent.

"This is what the greedy devil's after." Richardson held his hand out, and the Arab delicately lipped the sliver of carrot from his palm. "We may have made our money from tea but horse breeding is my real love. Near where we lived they hold an annual horse race called the Grand National. I remember my grandfather taking me when I was a small boy, and from that moment all I wanted was to have one of those Thoroughbreds. Now I've got the chance to breed my own." There was genuine passion in Ben Richardson's voice as he spoke and Chris was in total agreement.

"Good luck to you, Ben." The gunslinger offered his hand and Richardson shook it firmly. "You've got a real good foundation sire there and the land hereabouts is just fine for raising horses."

"So I've been told." Richardson looked wistful as they exited the stallion's box. "I've got the deeds showing me the boundaries but the truth is I'd really like to get out and have a proper look. Grainger and I were thinking of riding out in a week or so once we've got the house organised, but ideally I need someone who knows the area."

"I'd be happy to show ya around," Vin volunteered, and Chris did not know why his guts suddenly knotted in trepidation at the tracker's words.

"Thank you. I may just take you up on that offer."

As the peacekeepers collected their black geldings from the main stable Vin suddenly turned to Chris.

"What did ya do with that letter Mary gave ya?"

"Letter?" The gunslinger looked blank for a moment then he suddenly reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope which he handed to Richardson. "Oh yeah. Mary wants to know if you and your family will have Thanksgiving Dinner with her and Billy."

Ben tore open the envelope and read the invitation before looking back at Chris. "Will you and Vin be there?"

"Well, we've been asked but - " Chris never had the chance to finish his sentence before Vin jumped in with both feet.

"I ain't one fer all them fancy dinners but Chris'll be going." The gunslinger turned right round and stared at Vin in disbelief and Richardson tried hard to hide his smile at the guileless expression on the young Texan's face.

"Tell Mrs Travis we'll be delighted to come. I guess you and I'll have a lot more to talk about, Chris." Richardson offered both men his hand as they swung into their saddles. "Thanks for stopping by. It's been a real pleasure."

"Don't forget, if you have any more trouble... " Chris let his words trail off as Ben nodded.

"Don't worry. You'll be the first to know!" he stated emphatically. The gunslinger nodded and turned his mount back towards town, Vin at his side.

Ben Richardson watched as they rode under the archway and he was a little puzzled. Will Grainger had told him that Chris Larabee seemed a most unfriendly man, but he had not found that at all. On the contrary, he had found both peacekeepers's to be amiable and genuinely interested in his future plans. The gunslinger in particular seemed to share his own passion for fine horses, and he could see that forming the basis of a solid friendship.

The ride back to town was conducted in silence for the most part. Vin was content to let Chris bury himself in his own thoughts; he had seen the wistful expression on the gunslinger's face when he and Ben Richardson had been talking about breeding the Arabs, and he knew that his friend had been thinking about what might have been in his own life. However, it was not until he chanced to look closely at his taciturn friend that he saw the troubled frown on his brow.

"What's up?"

"Huh?" Chris had been so pre-occupied that it took him a moment to realise that the tracker had spoken. His mind was turning over the proposed trip by Vin, Richardson, and Grainger. The gunslinger had tried hard to convince himself that his snap judgement of Grainger may have been misplaced, but as soon as he heard the Englishman speak his name all his distrust had come flooding back.

On the other hand he had found Ben Richardson extremely easy to get along with. Granted, they had a passion for horses in common, but it was more than that. The frank Englishman was simply likeable, and Chris could not understand how he could react so differently towards two strangers within the space of a few days.

"What's eating ya? I thought ya liked Richardson."

Chris hesitated for a moment, trying to work out how to phrase his reply without sounding too paranoid.

"It ain't Richardson," he finally admitted. "It's Grainger. I just don't trust the man."

"Why not? Ya don't even know him!"

"I dunno. It's just - " Chris paused; how could he explain to Vin what he did not understand himself? "There's something about him that jus' don't sit right. If you go on this trip with Richardson just watch your back!"

"I always do, cowboy." Vin had learned to trust Chris' instincts as much as he did his own, and he would certainly keep his warning in mind.

+ + + + + + +

A stiff breeze blew down the main street, rattling half-open windows and setting signs swinging on their hinges. The brightly coloured bunting that was strung between the various buildings snapped wildly in the wind, and there was a hint of rain in the grey clouds that scudded across the sky. However, the residents of Four Corners were not going to allow a minor thing like inclement weather to dampen the Thanksgiving Day celebrations.

James Owen stood staring through the window of the General Store, one hand firmly holding down his low crowned hat. He had left his sister and brother-in-law to check into the hotel with their two children, whilst he went off on an errand of his own. Ever since Mary Travis had issued her invitation, the young Englishman had made a point of finding out all about this particular festive season. He had been surprised to discover that the Americans considered this holiday to be more important than Christmas, and the task of finding a suitable present for their hostess had fallen to him. James sighed. If only he had known about this on his last trip to Eagle Bend. There were a greater variety of shops and goods, and he would have found it easier to find the perfect Thanksgiving gift.

"Doctor Owen?"

James spun round, startled to hear his name called and wondering who could possibly know him in this town. Then a smile lit up his face as he spotted Nathan Jackson hurrying along the boardwalk towards him, and as the tall healer drew nearer he forced a frown of mock severity to his brow.

"What's all this Doctor Owen nonsense? I told you to call me James."

For a moment Nathan was taken aback, but then he suddenly caught the gleam of amusement in the Englishman's eyes, and he grinned in return. Once again he was struck by the uncanny likeness between James and his sister.

"Alright. James it is. I reckon ya'll in town for Mary's Thanksgiving dinner, eh?"

"Well, yes... " James sounded hesitant, and Nathan realised he looked troubled.

"So what's wrong?" he asked.

"I have to buy her a present, and I've no idea what she would like. Maybe you can give me some advice?" he finished hopefully.

"Me?" The healer's voice rose sharply. He was not used to people asking for his opinion on the fairer sex. "I don't have much call to buy things for ladies. Buck's more yer man." Seeing the disappointment on James' face, Nathan relented a little. "Maybe we could jus' go in and have a look."

Virgil Watson looked up as the door opened. He had noticed the young man outside obviously deliberating, and had seen him talking to Nathan. The storeowner gave them a few minutes to wander around while he finished serving a customer before stepping out from behind the counter and approaching them.

"Can I help you, gentleman? You appear to be a trifle lost."

"Yes." Nathan was more than willing to hand the problem over to somebody else. "Maybe you can help the good doctor. James is looking for something for Mary - a Thanksgiving gift."

"Hmmm." Virgil Watson paused for a moment, and then he nodded thoughtfully. "I think I have the very thing. I know Mrs Travis has been admiring this for a while"

The two men followed him back to the counter, and Nathan frowned as the storeowner removed the item from the display cabinet.

"Are you sure Mary likes that?"

"Absolutely. I've seen her looking at it each time she's been in."

"Then she shall have it." There was relief in James' voice as he realised his search was over. "Can you wrap it in something?"

"Of course, if you're sure this is what you want. It is a little pricey."

"No, no - that's fine."

As Nathan watched Virgil Watson carefully wrapping the present in brown paper, he could not help thinking that there was no snobbery about James Owen. He had not bought the object to show off his wealth; he had bought it because he knew that Mary Travis would appreciate it.

Once again Chris could not help thinking that this was a very bad idea. As he hesitated outside Mary's front door, listening to the sound of childrens laughter from inside, all he wanted to do was turn and run. His last family Thanksgiving dinner had been spent with Sarah and Adam, less than a year before they were murdered, and he had not celebrated the occasion since.

"Damn you, Vin!"

The tracker had been pushing him ever since Chris had handed the invitation to Ben Richardson, but at the end of the day it was the gunslinger's own choice that lead him to the newspaperwoman's front door. Again he almost turned and walked away, but suddenly the door was opened, warmth and light spilling out as Mary appeared.

"Oh!" The woman was startled but she recovered quickly. "Chris. I'm so glad you came." There was a faint hint of relief in her voice that said she had had her doubts, but her smile was genuine enough.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he apologised, tilting his head to one side as he gave her a disarming half-smile. "I had a... few things to do."

"You're not late," she lied, pulling a wry face as she showed him in. Chris barely had time to hang his hat on the spare peg beside the door before Billy launched himself from the drawing room.

"Chris!" The gunslinger scooped the boy up so they were face to face. "Now you can carve the turkey."

Chris raised his eyebrows in surprise and threw Mary a sidelong look, a question in his eyes. The blonde woman caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked down, slightly embarrassed.

"Well... you're not that late," she pointed out, as the gunslinger lowered Billy to the floor and ruffled his hair. "But dinner is ready."

If anybody had asked him afterwards, Chris would have had to admit that he had enjoyed the evening more than he had expected. The meal itself was an hilarious affair, with Emily doing her best to boss her older brother and Billy Travis around, even though she was only three. Ben had brought with him a bottle of fine wine for the women, whilst Chris had made free with Ezra's stock of French brandy, and the atmosphere had mellowed accordingly.

It was Amelia Richardson who finally called a halt to the evening. Edward had been flagging for some time, and Emily was asleep on the sofa, and she made it quite clear that she would like to get her children to bed as soon as possible. Mary agreed; it was only Chris' presence that was keeping Billy stubbornly awake.

"Well, I really enjoyed that," Ben Richardson stated as he shifted his son into a more comfortable position in his arms as they strolled along towards the hotel. "I'm glad Mary liked her present."

Chris laughed softly. When James had produced the brown-paper wrapped parcel Mary had been extremely embarrassed. However, on opening it she had been surprised and touched at the generosity of the gift. She had long admired the beautifully crafted wicker sewing box, with its dainty embroidered lid, but she had considered it too frivolous and too expensive a purchase for herself. James Owen had grinned as Mary and Amelia had enthused over the brightly coloured silk threads inside, keeping to himself the fact that he had had quite a bit of help in choosing it!

"Yes, I'm surprised James made such a good choice!" Amelia commented, looking teasingly at her twin.

"Hey, you know I've got good taste, Lia!" the young doctor replied in mock indignation, using his childhood pet name for his sister.

As they reached the entrance to the hotel the tinny jangling of a piano drifted along from the saloon, accompanied by the sound of raucous laughter.

"Sounds like your Thanksgiving celebrations are going well."

Chris smiled at Richardson's comment, but he was still sober enough to hope that things did not get too out of hand. Nathan and Vin had volunteered for the peacekeeping duties this evening, allowing the others to have a little time off for the festivities, even though that meant stretching their resources to the limit if the merrymaking became too boisterous.

"Yeah, people do love a holiday!" The gunslinger glanced towards the saloon. Once he had said his goodnights to the Richardson's and James Owen he fully intended to join his friends for a drink. He had no doubts that Ezra, Buck, and probably JD would be in the very thick of the wild partying. "I think I'll head on down and see what's going on."

"Do you mind if I join you?" Ben's question took both Chris and Amelia by surprise, but when the gunslinger glanced at the Englishman he could see that there was more than just friendly socialising behind the suggestion. Mindful of the problems the family had encountered on their journey to the ranch, he readily agreed.

"Here - let me take Edward." James took the sleeping child from his brother-in-law, and stepped back as Ben leaned forward to kiss Amelia lightly.

"I won't be too late," he promised, ruffling his daughter's hair as she dozed in her mother's arms, warmly wrapped in a shawl borrowed from Mary.

"Alright, but be quiet when you come back. Don't forget the children will be asleep. Goodnight, Chris."

"G'night, ma'am, James." The two men walked in silence for a while, but as they got closer to the saloon Chris spoke again. "So what's on your mind, Ben?"

Richardson stopped, his face thoughtful and a little sheepish. "Is it that obvious?" he asked, but then he became serious. "I might just be over-reacting. It might be nothing - "

"But?" Chris could hear the word even though Richardson had not said it and he turned to regard the other man, waiting for him to continue.

"The first thing was the feed. The day after you and Vin had been out one of my men discovered that a barrel of linseed oil had been tipped over and had ruined several sacks of grain. Then, just yesterday, young Jack Chambers fell from the loft ladder and broke his arm." Richardson paused and shook his head. "They could simply be accidents... "

"But you don't think so." Chris could see the man was worried even though he tried to pass it off lightly, and the gunslinger himself was not a strong believer in coincidences.

"I suppose the ladder was fairly old. The rung could have snapped at any time." The Englishman was almost musing out loud. "But I was the last one to use the linseed oil, and I know I closed the lid tightly."

"Hmm." Chris had no reason to doubt Richardson's statement, which left the obvious question. "Do you trust all your hands?"

"Trust?" Ben sighed and shrugged. "In all honesty I don't know them that well, but they seem decent enough. They work hard and I've had no complaints from any of them."

"What about Grainger?" Chris had to ask, and he found it impossible to keep his dislike and mistrust of the man out of his voice.

"Grainger? He's the only one I do know. In fact I've just made Will my foreman."

Chris stared long and hard at the Englishman. He should not really have been that surprised; he was beginning to discover that he was the only one so far who seemed to harbour any doubts about the Texan. It was the not knowing why he had these doubts that was beginning to rattle his nerves, and even make him wonder whether his finely honed instincts were misleading him in this instance.

"I'd like to help you, Ben, but without proof... "

"I know." Richardson gave a wry grin. "I'd rather you didn't say anything to Amelia, though. Obviously she knows about Jack breaking his arm, but not about anything else - and I'd sooner keep it that way. There seems little point worrying her unnecessarily."

"She won't hear about it from me," the gunslinger assured him. "Now come on. Lemme buy you a drink." Chris was determined not to let anything, not even the mention of Will Grainger, sour the end of a thoroughly pleasant evening as he led Richardson in search of the other peacekeepers.

As they strode through the batwing doors the gunslinger noticed a broken windowpane, but he was not unduly worried. The atmosphere inside was lively and amiable, and there did not appear to have been any trouble. The place was heaving and it was standing room only, with every seat and vantage point long taken. It took Chris a moment to spot Vin leaning on the end corner of the bar. There was a half-empty beer glass in front of the Texan as he kept a careful watch on the room, but he looked up as Chris and Richardson approached, a quick smile on his face as he nodded in greeting.

"Ezra's looking fer ya," he said to the gunslinger, grinning at the way Chris started guiltily.

"Why? What've I done?" Chris knew exactly why the gambler might be looking for him, but he was not going to admit to anything.

"Dunno, but he was yellin' summat about brandy going missing." The tracker shuddered and grimaced. "Cain't see why he gets so all-fired excited. Cain't stand the stuff meself."

Chris glanced at his friend in amusement, hearing the heartfelt sentiment in his words. As he recalled there had been one time when a certain young Texan had indulged just a little too much in the potent beverage. Richardson stared at the gunslinger curiously.

"That wouldn't have been the bottle... Ah!" This last came as Chris gave him a wolfish grin.

"It was Ezra's Thanksgiving present." All three men laughed, and then Vin signalled to the barkeep.

"Buy ya a drink, cowboy? Ben?"

"Nope. This one's on me." Chris pulled some loose change from his pocket and tossed it on the bar. "What'll it be?"

"I'm fine fer now." Vin knew Chris would not be offended by his refusal; he needed to keep a clear head just in case. He had already seen Buck and JD looking a little the worse for wear, and it was apparent that the gunslinger had also enjoyed his evening, despite his earlier reticence. The tracker was happy enough to show a little abstinence if it meant that his friends had a good time.

"Alright. What about you, Ben?"

"Whatever you're having is fine by me."

Chris looked along the bar; Vin may have signalled to the man serving drinks but another customer had waylaid him. The gunslinger slapped his hand on the counter several times until the harassed barkeep came down to him.

"Two whiskeys!" he demanded, pushing the money forward. "And none of that gut-rot you normally serve. We'll take it from the bottle Ezra keeps tucked underneath!"

"Yessir, Mr Larabee."

Ben Richardson saw Vin shake his head in bemusement, and he could not help smiling to himself as the barkeep hurried to comply with the gunslinger's order. Chris Larabee was someone who knew what he wanted and how best to go about it, and a useful man to have on your side when push came to shove.

"Where's Nathan?" Chris asked the question as the two drinks were placed in front of them, but he had to raise his voice to be heard above the sudden increase in noise.

"At the clinic. Some fool put his hand through the window." Chris winced in sympathy, having seen the jagged shards of glass on his way in, but the tracker carried on. "Reckon the guy was so drunk he didn't even feel it!"

Ben Richardson picked up his glass and raised it in salutation. "It's certainly lively," he commented, taking a sip of the whiskey and finding it surprisingly good. "But I think we need to show you American's a real English Christmas!"

"I think Mary and Billy'd like that." Vin saw Chris' expression change slightly as he replied to Richardson's comment. Thanksgiving was one thing, but Christmas was pushing the gunslinger beyond what he considered his social duties.

"It's an open invitation. You're all invited."

"That's mighty decent of yer. We'll think on it some." Vin's statement placated Richardson as Chris remained silent. The Texan could see that he was deep in thought, possibly contemplating the past Christmas's he had spent with his family. Somehow he got the feeling that the gunslinger would find a way of getting out of the invitation. "Have ya given any more thought about lookin' round yer land?" The sudden change of subject took Richardson by surprise.

"Yes, Will and I were talking about that just the other day. There's still a fair amount of work to be done on the house, but we were thinking maybe in a couple of weeks...?"

Vin nodded. "Yeah, that's about right. Ya need to have a good look before the winter sets in. M'offer still stands." The tracker took a contemplative sip of his beer. "I was kinda hopin' I'd see Grainger in town tonight. Reckon me'n him'd have a few things in common."

Chris drained the last of his whiskey in one swift gulp, and slammed the glass down on the counter, gesturing impatiently to the barkeep to refill it. Ben looked at the gunslinger in consternation, wondering what had caused his change of mood, but he made no mention of it as he replied to Vin.

"I asked Will to remain at the ranch. I didn't want to take any chances while we were away."

The tracker glanced at his fellow peacekeeper, one eyebrow raised in question, and Chris gestured towards Richardson. "Ben's had some more trouble, but I'm sure Grainger's got it well in hand." There was no disguising the sarcasm in his voice, and Ben gave him a puzzled look.

"I get the feeling you don't like Will Grainger much."

"Hell, I don't know him much," Chris responded. Ben waited for the gunslinger to continue, but his brooding silence made it apparent that he had nothing further to say on the matter. Richardson felt a little uncomfortable; he did not want to pursue a subject that would ruin a perfectly good evening so he deftly turned the conversation around to Vin.

"How about coming out to the ranch two weeks from today? We should have finished the repairs to the house by then."

"I'll be there." Vin nodded, draining the remainder of his beer at last. Beside him Chris shifted and cleared his throat.

"Maybe I'll join you," he said, ignoring the surprised look that Vin threw in his direction.

"Fine. You're more than welcome." Richardson tossed back the last drop of his whiskey and held out his hand to Chris. "I suppose I ought to be going. I promised Amy I wouldn't be late," he stated, shaking the gunslinger's hand warmly. "I've really enjoyed tonight. We weren't sure what kind of reception we'd get over here, but thanks to all of you we're starting to feel more at home." He extended his hand to the tracker. "Goodnight, Vin. I'll see you in a couple of weeks."

Chris watched as Richardson left, and then took another sip from his refilled glass. He glanced briefly at Vin, aware that the tracker was studying him, and he put his glass down carefully before turning to his friend.

"What?" he demanded.

"I was jus' wondering what's sticking in yer craw about Grainger," Vin replied evenly. Chris dropped his head, staring intently into his glass as he swirled the amber liquid around. The tracker could not understand why his friend was so reticent, unless... "Ya think he's after the bounty! Is that it? Is that why ya wanna come along on this trip?"

Chris looked up, meeting the Texan’s earnest blue gaze. "I dunno, but I won't take that risk."

"Dammit, Chris, I can look out fer meself. Did it fer years afore ya came along." There was no malice in the young tracker's words; it was just that he still found it difficult to believe that someone else could care what happened to him.

"I know that. It's just that I'd feel a whole lot happier if I was there." Chris did not know what else to say. Caring was the price you paid for letting someone else into your life. Vin could understand the sentiment behind the gunslinger's statement, and he appreciated the concern. Pushing his empty glass forward, the Texan gave his friend a half-smile.

"Mebbe I'll take that drink now, cowboy."

+ + + + + + +

"Say, ain't that the Richardsons?"

The observation came from JD as he sat outside the saloon with Buck. Vin stood opposite them, leaning against the upright at the edge of the boardwalk, but he glanced round as the buggy drew level with the three peacekeepers. James Owen sat holding the reins, his sister sitting on the seat beside him. In the back were the two children, seated either side of another woman whom they had never seen before. She appeared to be a few years older than Amelia Richardson, auburn hair pulled back in a severe bun. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose, and the stiff set of her shoulders gave the impression that she was not entirely happy to be there.

Fastened to the back of the buggy was James' sorrel gelding, and three of Ben's ranch-hands who had accompanied them into town for a few days leave were ranged behind that.

"Good day, gentleman." James acknowledged the three Americans, tipping his hat in greeting. "Such a fine afternoon, don't you think?"

"Howdy James, ma'am. Reckon the snow'll hold off fer a bit longer yet." Vin still could not understand the strange fixation that the English seemed to have with the weather but he had to admit that even he was surprised by the continuing mildness.

"Glad to hear it. I know Ben's eager to get started tomorrow."

"So what brings you all into town?" Buck stepped forward as he asked the question, touching his hat politely to the ladies, and winking at the children. He let his gaze linger curiously on the auburn haired woman, giving her one of his most disarming smiles, but to his surprise she merely turned away contemptuously.

"Ben thought the ladies might like to spend a few days in town while he's away from the ranch." Owen looked at the peacekeepers, and they could guess the real reason behind Richardson's suggestion. Knowing the trouble he had had in the past, he obviously considered it prudent to have his family safely in town during his absence. "It'll give them a chance to get to know more of the local people."

"Good idea. The town might be small but I think you'll find the folks real friendly," JD enthused.

"It'd be my pleasure to show you ladies around." Buck's offer was made to both women, but he was still looking at the older one in the back, intrigued by her aloof manner.

"Thank you, Mr Wilmington. That's most generous of you." Amelia gave him a bright smile, and he grinned back at her.

"The name's Buck, ma'am."

"Pardon me, Madam." The interruption came from the woman sitting with Edward and Emily, her accent soft and cultured. "Would you like me to walk the children along to the hotel? They need to have their afternoon nap before dinner."

"Thank you, Constance. I'll be along presently." As the woman stood up Buck held out his arms.

"Come along kids!" Grabbing hold of Edward, he scooped the boy up and deposited him on the boardwalk. Emily needed no second bidding; she virtually threw herself into the peacekeeper's arms, and Buck swung her up high as she giggled delightedly.

"Emily! Behave!" Constance scolded disapprovingly, but Buck waved aside her protestations.

"She's fine, ma'am. I've got her." He passed the laughing child to JD and then reached up to help the woman down. With a disdainful sniff she allowed the ladies man to grasp her around the waist and lower her to the boardwalk, but Buck held on a little longer than necessary, gazing intently at her face.

"Do y'know you have the loveliest eyes I have ever seen? It seems a shame to hide them behind those spectacles." Buck's softly spoken comment brought a slight flush to her cheeks, but she quickly regained her composure, brushing his hands aside and adjusting the dainty hat on her head.

"If you'll excuse me, Madam, Doctor Owen." Constance took Emily from JD's arms and glanced down at the boy. "Come along Edward."

"So who was that vision of loveliness?" Buck asked as the woman walked away. He had been truthful when he had spoken about her eyes; the startling silver-grey was a colour he had never seen before, and was one of her most attractive features.

"That was Miss Constance Bartlett," James replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Governess to Edward and Emily." He paused, seeing the surprise on the peacekeeper's faces, and he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Personally I call her the 'Ice Maiden'!"

"James!" Amelia sounded shocked, but there was a smile on her face as she slapped her brother on the arm. "Don't be so unkind. She's very good with the children."

"Oh, I agree. I just wish she'd learn to relax."

"The 'Ice Maiden', hmm?" Buck watched as she disappeared into the hotel, and there was a calculating gleam in his eye. "Maybe I can thaw her out a little."

Vin glanced at JD in amusement, and the youngest peacekeeper rolled his eyes skyward. If there was one thing you could rely on in this world, it was Buck's reaction to an attractive woman.

"So are ya stayin' in town?" Vin asked as James prepared to move the buggy down towards the hotel.

"Yes, but only until the morning. I intend to ride back out to the ranch with you." James was quite looking forward to having some space to himself while his brother-in-law was away. It would give him the opportunity to finally unpack all of his equipment and arrange it in the study that Ben had given him to use for a surgery. "Let me get Amelia and the children settled and maybe I'll see you later in the saloon."

As the buggy pulled away Buck continued to look towards the hotel, his face thoughtful, and Vin elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ya still thinking about that schoolteacher?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Think you got your work cut out there," JD pointed out, but Buck gave them a broad grin.

"You know me, boys. I do so love a challenge!"

Vin smiled and shook his head as he started to walk away. Somehow he had the feeling that it was going to take more than Buck's famous 'animal magnetism' to impress Constance Bartlett.

+ + + + + + +

It was still fairly early, but Vin was already at the Livery, rubbing down his black gelding with a stiff brush. Peso snuffled softly into the tracker's hair as Vin finished off at the withers, and then he reached up and placed the blanket in place over the horse's back. As the Texan stepped out of the stall to get his saddle James Owen appeared in the doorway.

"Morning, Vin."

"I thought it'd best to make an early start," the tracker said, but then he paused in the process of lifting his saddle from the wooden burro.

"You alright?" Owen asked solicitously, seeing the slight grimace on Vin's face.

"Yeah. I musta eat one too many of those enchilados that Inez made last night." James grinned as he watched the Texan finish saddling his horse.

"Yes, they were rather spicy," the Englishman agreed, having sampled them for himself. With the black gelding ready, both men turned their attention to the sorrel in the next stall, but Owen kept darting glances towards the main door.

"Ya expecting somebody?" Vin asked eventually as he slipped the bridle over the horse's head.

"Well, I thought Ben said Chris was coming with us."

"Yeah, he was gonna but he had to go Eagle Bend. Some business fer Judge Travis." The tracker pulled a face, remembering Chris' blistering comments when he had received the telegraph. It was something he could not get out of and his language had surprised even Vin. "He weren't best pleased."

As they led their horses out into the late Fall sunshine only Nathan observed them leaving as he came out onto the balcony above.

"I still can't get over how comfortable your saddles are."

James and Vin had been riding for almost an hour, keeping the horses to a steady trot. The tracker had been quite happy to answer the Englishman's questions about the various flora and fauna they had encountered on the trail, and Vin had made his own enquiries about Liverpool and England.

"They gotta be. Most cowboys are in 'em all day."

"I can understand that." James glanced to his left, seeing the coppery leaves that still clung to the branches of the trees. "I could ride for hours. It's not quite the same as the Welsh borders, but it's still a beautiful country. I think we could be very happy here."

"Yeah, it can be mighty purty 'specially in the Spring," Vin agreed. He was finding the Englishman surprisingly good company; they were of an equal age, and both were genuinely interested in the other's home country. The tracker smiled - Chris would have been amazed at how talkative he was, but he found it easy to converse with the young doctor.

The rest of the journey passed quite quickly, and Vin was surprised when they reached the track leading up to the ranch. He could see the man on the roof, acting as lookout, and another working at a bench just beyond the main corral, but as they dismounted outside the house, Ben came from the barn, wiping his hands on a dirty cloth.

"You made good time," he greeted, holding his hand out to Vin. "Will's not back yet. He's still out at the north pasture. Did everybody get settled in alright?" he asked, turning to James.

"Yes. Lia sends her love. She and the children are spending the day with Mary Travis."

"And Miss Bartlett?" Ben was acutely aware how the governess would feel about being left in a provincial backwater, and James grinned.

"I think Buck has a few ideas about entertaining her."

"What? The 'Ice Maiden'?" Richardson seemed surprised, but he had to smile at the amusement on Vin's face.

"Buck's never been one to take no fer an answer."

"Then I wish him the best of luck!" Ben said earnestly, hanging the cloth over the hitching rail. "Come on in. Mrs Roberts has prepared some lunch for us. We may as well eat before we go."

James took Vin through to the dining room while Ben went to get cleaned up. Charles Roberts, husband to the cook and housekeeper, brought in several trays piled with sliced ham and beef as well as cheese and freshly baked bread. Before he left he set a pot of steaming coffee on the side so the men could help themselves, and when Ben came back he had some sheets of rolled up paper which he spread out on the table.

"I thought we might as well take a look at these while we're eating," he said, using some of the cutlery to hold the corners down. Vin picked up his plate of food and regarded the document, seeing the thick boundary lines of the property marked on it.

"That's a sizeable chunk of land you got there," Vin said, trying to work out the distance.

"How long would it take us to ride around it?" Richardson wanted to know, and Vin shook his head.

"Ya don't need to ride all the way round. If we head fer here, here, and here - " The tracker indicated several points on the sheet. " - ya should get a good feel for yer property. There's plenty of water and good grazing." Vin rubbed absently at his stomach as he studied the map, and he pushed his plate away before taking a sip of his coffee.

"Those enchilados still giving you trouble?" James asked, noticing that he looked slightly off colour.

"Yeah. Reckon I'll steer clear o'them fer a while!"

Before they could continue the discussion they heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and a voice called out.

"Mr Richardson?"

"At last!" Ben breathed, and then he raised his voice. "We're in the drawing room, Will."

Vin straightened up at the sound of the man's name, the discomfort of his indigestion forgotten as Will Grainger stepped into the room. The tracker's eyes narrowed as he studied this man whom Chris had warned him about and appeared not to like or trust. Grainger was as tall as the gunslinger and of a similar build although he was somewhat older, and at the moment there was an easy smile on his face.

"We were beginning to wonder where you'd got to," Richardson said to him.

"It took me a little longer than I figgered," Grainger replied, looking past the Englishman towards Vin.

"Any problems?"

"Nope. Jus' a few mavericks running around up there. Reckon we could add 'em to the stock afore winter sets in."

"Well, we'll worry about that later. First I’d like you to meet Vin Tanner." Richardson put his hand on the older Texan's shoulder and drew him forward. "I know you've been wanting to meet him for a while now."

"Ya could say that." Grainger smiled as he held out his hand to his fellow Texan. "Vin. I've heard a lot about ya."

The tracker nodded in acknowledgement as he returned the handshake, his eyes cautious. Whilst he did not feel any animosity towards the man he would remain on his guard. He had listened to Chris' warnings, but he was prepared to keep an open mind for the moment.

"Vin was just going over the map, trying to work out the best way to go." Richardson could see that the younger Texan was a bit wary and he recalled Chris Larabee's belligerence towards Grainger, and he was in no doubt that the gunslinger would have voiced his suspicions to Vin, unfounded or not. Grainger glanced down at the map and then looked up at Vin.

"I'll leave it to yer judgement," he said. "Ya know the area better'n me, but I reckon here - " he tapped the map " - might be a good place t'stop tonight."

"Yeah, that's an easy four hours ride," Vin agreed. "We should be able to make it before nightfall."

"Help yourself to some lunch, Will. There's plenty here." Ben laughed as he studied the piled trays. "I think Mrs Roberts got a little carried away. Vin, have some more. You've barely touched yours."

"No, I'm fine." The tracker shook his head, unaware of James' scrutiny as he helped himself to more coffee.

"Say, I thought yer friend Larabee was coming along?" Grainger suddenly asked. The comment was casual enough but Vin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end for no apparent reason.

"Chris had some business to take care of fer Judge Travis," the tracker explained.

"Well that's a real shame." Grainger sounded genuinely regretful. "Reckon we got off on the wrong foot. I'd o' liked the chance t'get to know him better."

Vin gave a wry smile. Chris was not a person who was easy to get to know, except in a few extreme circumstances, but at least this man was willing to try. Maybe, just maybe, the gunslinger was over-reacting slightly; Vin certainly felt no danger from the other Texan, but he deemed it wise to remain cautious.

"Well, gentlemen, I really must sort out the supplies for this trip." Ben Richardson glanced at the two Americans with an apologetic smile, and then turned to his brother-in-law. "James, have you got a moment? There's a few things I need you to do while I'm away."

As Ben and James left, Grainger refilled his plate and chewed thoughtfully on the beef while Vin carried on sipping his coffee. The older Texan tried not to look, but he knew that the tracker was watching him. The silence stretched on uncomfortably for a little longer, until Grainger had finished eating and poured himself some coffee.

"So, how long ya been in Four Corners, Vin?"

"A while," the tracker replied cagily, and Grainger eyed him over the rim of his cup.

"Seems like a right peaceable town," he continued.

"Ya could say that, though it ain't always been that way." Vin smiled to himself as he suddenly remembered the first time he had seen Chris Larabee. The memory of that moment of instant trust and affinity always surprised him.

"Reckon them folks've gotta lot to thank you and them other peacekeepers fer. Way I heard it, the town use'ta be pretty wild."

"Yeah, well, we do our best." There was a touch of pride in Vin's words, but he still felt a little awkward making polite conversation with someone he did not know, and he lapsed into silence once more.

Grainger nodded thoughtfully to himself. The young Texan seemed extremely shy and reticent, but he was not put off by this attitude. He was sure he would have ample opportunity over the next few days to get to know his fellow countryman a little better.

Ben Richardson was totally amazed by the young tracker's unerring sense of direction. They had been riding for over three hours, and although the Englishman had referred to his map on several occasions, he had finally given up. Vin seemed to know exactly where he was going without the aid of a sheet of paper, and was able to point out the various boundaries and landmarks without any problem.

"Reckon we oughta think about stoppin' soon," Grainger suddenly said as they crossed a narrow stream, and Ben heartily agreed. Much as he enjoyed riding, he would be the first to admit that three hours in the saddle was beginning to wear him out, and the rest could not come soon enough. "What d'ya think, Vin?"

The tracker jerked his head up and glanced across at the other man. He had not really been listening to the conversation going on around him for the last few minutes, having been slightly distracted by a feeling of nausea. The ache in his stomach had been troubling him on and off all afternoon, but he was not going to let the aftermath of too much spicy food stand in the way of a promised favour. He pulled the black to a halt and glanced around. There was large clear area beside the stream, and a stand of trees a short distance from that, sufficient to give some protection from the elements.

"Guess this's as good a place as any," he agreed, and the three men dismounted and let their horses drink before leading them across to the trees. Richardson dropped his reins and took a short rope from the saddle, stringing it between two trunks to form a picket line. Vin noticed that the Englishman was walking rather gingerly, the stiffness apparent in his posture even though the other man made no complaint.

"D'ya want me to see to ya horse fer ya?" the tracker asked, but Richardson shook his head with a rueful smile.

"No thanks. I can manage. Besides, if I sit down now I don't think I'll be able to get up again!"

Vin had to grin at the Englishman's pained expression, and his admiration for the man went up a few more notches. It was obvious that Ben was not used to quite so much riding but he had made no request to stop, simply enduring the tiring journey without protest and ready to put the welfare of his horse above his own immediate comforts. It was the sign of a good horseman, and Vin was quick to acknowledge it.

"We'll make a Texan of ya yet!"

"I'll take that as a compliment then," Richardson said as he unfastened the girth and pulled the saddle off the buckskin. Grainger glanced at the tracker, smiling at Vin's comment. In his opinion there was no higher praise that the Englishman could be given. In the few months that he had known him, Will had found Richardson to be fair and more than willing to work hard alongside his men, and he was not at all what he had expected. Grainger continued to eye the younger Texan as he removed the tack from his own horse, and he could not fail to notice the awkwardness in the tracker's movements, and his keen ears caught the sharp intake of breath as Vin swung the saddle down.

"Y'all right, son?" he asked solicitously as the tracker remained hunched over, his hand rubbing at his stomach.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a stitch is all."

"Alright. It'll be dark soon, so I'd best get a fire going." Grainger glanced up at the sky. "Reckon it's gonna be a clear, cold night."

"What can I do?" Richardson asked. He was aware that he was slightly out of his depth, but he was not going to let the Texans do all the work.

"Scout around and collect as much tinder as ya can." Grainger swept his arm around the clearing. "It's gonna get pretty cold."

Vin unpacked the coffee pot and walked over to fill it at the stream, tensing at he knelt down, but the ache in his guts seemed to have diminished. He shrugged, thinking no more of it as he went to start the coffee going.

Grainger leaned forward and threw some more wood on the fire. It was fully dark now, a full moon hanging low in the sky as the three men finished their supper of ham and beans, accompanied by Annie Roberts freshly baked biscuits. Ben Richardson was yawning; the ride had given him a voracious appetite and he had cleared his plate with surprising speed, but now he could barely keep his eyes open.

"Why'n't ya turn in?" Grainger advised, noticing the Englishman fighting to stay awake. "We'll probably be makin' an early start in the morning."

"I think I will." Ben had already laid out his bedroll close to the fire, and he eased off his boots before slipping under the blankets. He turned over and gave a contented sigh, drifting off to sleep almost immediately. As he started to snore loudly, Grainger gave a wry smile.

"That'll keep the wolves at bay," he said. He poured himself another cup of coffee and then offered the pot to Vin, but the younger man shook his head as he pushed away his plate. The tracker had barely touched his food, merely picking at it disinterestedly. A coyote yipped in the distance, and Grainger glanced across at the picket line as the horses snorted and moved restlessly.

"Reckon they know it's gonna be a mighty cold winter," Vin pointed out as another wild dog howled at the sky. "There'll be slim pickings fer 'em."

The older man nodded as he gazed up at the moon. The chilly air seemed to emphasise the faint aura that surrounded it, and the stars shone with a jewel-like brilliance.

"Its nights like this that remind me of home." He glanced quickly at Vin as he made the wistful statement.

"Where's home fer you?" Vin looked at him as he asked the question.

"Waal, it used to be a little place not far from San Antone. It's called Devine. Y'ever heard of it?"

"Devine?" Vin frowned, wondering why it sounded so familiar. "Devine," he repeated quietly, and was startled when his thoughts turned inexplicably to his mother. He gazed into the fire, the dancing flames almost hypnotic as the image of a slim, pretty woman with sad eyes surfaced in his mind. He could not see her face clearly but he knew it was his mother, even before he recognised the dainty brooch pinned to her Sunday best frock. Now he realised why the name sounded so familiar. "Divine!" he exclaimed, as he suddenly made the childhood connection between the two words.

"Guess that struck a chord," Will Grainger said. "Y'been there recently?" He had been watching the young tracker intently, seeing the look of concentration on his face as he struggled with his recollections.

"No, not recently," Vin replied slowly. "But I think that's where I lived when I was a boy."

"What about yer folks? Do they still live there?" Those two questions, so casually spoken by an apparent stranger, made Vin's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"What makes ya ask that?" His tone was cagey, unsure now where this conversation was leading.

"Jus' curious." Grainger waved his cup in a dismissive gesture. "Guess I'm just too nosey for my own good," he stated by way of apology. "No offence."

The older Texan lapsed into silence, but Vin's mind drifted back to what he could remember of his childhood. He had not thought about home for a long time, the memories growing vaguer by the day, but Grainger's comments had drawn the last fleeting recollections into sharp focus. Unconsciously he reached into his pocket and pulled out his battered harmonica. Placing it to his lips, he blew a few discordant notes. Somehow he always found it soothing, the sound reminding him of long forgotten songs, back where he belonged. Home was a place he could never return to, but he had few regrets now.

Grainger looked up sharply, watching as the younger man continued to blow on the instrument. Eventually Vin realised he was being observed and he stopped, his cheeks colouring self-consciously.

"D'ya mind?" Grainger held his hand out, and Vin handed over the little instrument without thinking.

"Chris don't care much fer my playin' neither," the tracker said as Grainger smiled. Putting it to his lips he blew a few experimental notes, and then began to play a haunting melody. Vin shivered and the hairs stood up on the nape of his neck as he recognised the unique tune. Grainger grimaced as he hit a wrong note and he stopped, passing the harmonica back to the tracker.

"I'm a mite rusty," he apologised. "But I think that's how I remember it."

Vin closed his eyes against the tide of emotions that rushed in. He had not heard that particular tune played since his grandfather's death; it was something that Henry Tanner had made up himself, and now here was a man - a complete stranger - playing it to him once again. It was almost more than he could take in.

"Where... where did ya learn that?" Vin opened his eyes and stared at Grainger as he asked the hesitant question.

"My father taught it to me."

"Your father? But... " The tracker tried to work out what Grainger was saying, but none of it made sense. The tune belonged to his grandfather and no outsider should have been able to play it. "Who the hell are ya? I don't understand," he whispered in confusion.

"I think ya do, Vin." Grainger regarded him intently. "I'm yer pa." The words were out before he could stop them. The Texan had not intended to reveal his true identity so soon, hoping instead to take a few days to get to know Vin. However, the circumstances and the topic of conversation had conspired to bring about this premature disclosure.

The shattering revelation caused the colour to drain from Vin's face, and he stared at the older man totally stunned as the half-empty cup of coffee slipped from his trembling hand. On the other side of the campfire Richardson continued to sleep, totally unaware of the unfolding drama taking place.

"No... no... I don't believe ya." There was disbelief in Vin's hoarse words, but his heart was pounding with shock and he shook his head as he tried to clear his thoughts.

"How else d'ya think I know that tune?" Grainger pointed out, and then he smiled. "Yer grandpa made it up when ya weren't much more'n a babe. It always seemed to settle ya down."

"But... my pa's dead."

"Who told ya that?" Grainger was being cautious, trying to gauge the younger man's reaction. He was aware how difficult it must be for Vin to cope with this unexpected development.

"My ma, when... " The tracker's voice trailed off as he realised that he really was not sure, and Will Grainger shook his head.

"She wouldn't've told ya I'd died. Not my Beth. She'd've told you I'd gone away mebbe. Truth was, I had. I did a few bad things, and spent some time in prison." He paused and stared at the tracker, and for the first time Vin noticed that the man's eyes were the same blue as his own. "I heard yer ma'd died but I couldn't get to ya. Mebbe I shoulda tried harder, but ya'd been taken in by some folks and was getting on real well. I had nothin' to offer ya 'cept a bad reputation and a whole heap of grief."

Vin had started at the mention of his mother's name and he glared at the other man, seeing the slight smile curving Grainger's lips. The young Texan was totally confused and still more than a little suspicious, and he found it unsettling that this stranger could talk so confidently about a childhood he barely remembered himself. More than that it was the man's casual mention of Elizabeth Tanner that angered Vin; the precious memories that he guarded so jealously of his mother now appeared to be part of somebody else's past as well, and he resented the intrusion.

"Are ya alright, son?" Grainger reached out, concerned by Vin's silence, but the tracker knocked his hand away as he surged to his feet.

"Yer a stinking liar! I ain't yer son! Yer know nothing about me!" he snapped angrily.

"Yer right. I don't," Grainger agreed softly. "But I'd like to." He stood up and faced Vin, dropping a hand on his stiff shoulder. "I'm tellin' ya the truth, boy."

"Get the hell off me!" Vin yelled, his body rigid with tension. "Jus' leave me alone!"

As the young tracker turned and started to walk away, Richardson's voice called out from the other side of the fire. The Englishman had been startled from his deep slumber by the sound of angry words, and he sat up and stared across at the two Texans.

"Will? What’s going - " Ben never finished his sentence as Vin stumbled to a halt and doubled over with a sharp cry of pain, his arms clutched tightly about his middle.

The older Texan had started to follow Vin, and he was right behind him, and it was with the worried gaze of a father that Will Grainger - or rather Will Tanner - witnessed his son's unexpected collapse.

"Vin? What's wrong?" He reached out and grabbed him as the younger man's knees started to buckle, but he could not hold him. Sinking down beside him, he kept a firm hold of the tracker's trembling shoulders.

"Dunno. Feels like I got a knife stuck in m’belly," the young Texan gasped painfully. A faint sheen of sweat beaded his forehead, and his eyes were screwed tightly shut as he gritted his teeth against the agony that stabbed through his innards.

"What's the matter, Will?" Ben was suddenly there, crouching down on the other side of the stricken Texan, gazing over his bowed head into the worried face of Grainger. "Is he ill?"

"I dunno. Can ya help me get 'im up?" Between them the two men managed to get Vin to his feet, holding onto him as he swayed unsteadily. "Come and sit down by the fire, boy."

They eased Vin to the ground, and Tanner noticed the way that he sat hunched forward, his arms wrapped tightly around his middle as he drew his knees up. "Can ya fetch me a blanket?" He made the request of the Englishman as he kept his hand on the back of his son's neck, squeezing gently. Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a small flask, unscrewing the lid and holding it out to the afflicted tracker.

"Ya look like yer could do with a shot of this. It'll make ya feel warmer," he stated simply.

"Ain't cold," Vin muttered through gritted teeth. "Just hurts like hell!" He hesitated for a moment, and then accepted the offered whiskey and took a long pull, feeling the liquor sooth his aching stomach. As he handed the flask back Richardson returned with one of his own blankets, still slightly warm with body heat, and draped it around the tracker's shoulders.

"Ya just rest easy. I'll be right back." Will Tanner moved his hand onto the ailing man's shoulder and gave it a reassuring pat. Drawing Richardson to one side, he lowered his voice as he spoke to the concerned Englishman.

"I don't like the look of this. If it’s all the same to ya, I'd like to head back at first light."

"Yes, I agree. I wouldn't want to jeopardise Vin's health for the sake of looking over a piece of land. Maybe James could take a look at him. He mentioned to me this morning that he looked under the weather." Richardson glanced over at Vin as he sat huddled by the fire, a picture of abject misery, and he voiced the question that had been uppermost in his mind for a while now. He had heard the end of the altercation between the two Americans and he was naturally curious. "I don't mean to pry, Will, but what's going on between you two?"

"Don't worry about it, Mr Richardson," Tanner replied, following the man's gaze. "It's just a personal matter. It don't affect no-one else."

Ben gave a quick nod, respecting the American's privacy, but he could not help wondering what had caused the earlier friction between them, nor why Grainger seemed so worried now.

"Is there anything else we can do at the moment?"

"No, I'll keep an eye on him. Why'n't ya get some rest? Ain't no sense in both of us staying awake."

"Alright, if you're sure. I'll say goodnight then. I'll be ready to go at first light."

Tanner was grateful that Richardson had been so agreeable to his suggestion that they return to the ranch, knowing how important this trip was, but his main concern at the moment was Vin. Spreading the young Texan's bedroll out close to the fire, he crouched down beside the young man and touched him lightly on the arm.

"How d'ya feel now? Still hurt?" he asked when Vin looked at him.

"It's a mite easier. Jus' reckon it's summat I ate." If he was perfectly honest with himself, Vin believed that no more than the other man did if his expression was anything to go by. The tracker had been suffering from the nausea on and off for almost a day and that, coupled with the sluggishness of his guts, convinced him that it was more than just the result of eating something too spicy. "I'll be alright in the morning."

Tanner smiled at his son's stoicism. "We'll see. Why don't ya get some sleep?"

Vin took a steadying breath as he tried to gather together his muddled thoughts. He still felt a little nauseous, and the adrenalin rush of these myriad emotions was making him feel light-headed. The apparent concern displayed by this man made the tracker swallow convulsively as he nodded to his companion.

As he eased himself down onto his bedroll, curling on his side to relieve the pain that knifed through his stomach, he doubted whether sleep would be an easy companion this night. Pushing aside his physical sickness, everything he had believed in for most of his life had just been ripped apart, and his feelings were pulling him in every direction. A thousand questions buzzed through his brain but they would have to wait for now. Until he was able to think clearly he doubted whether he would be able to pick out the truth in the answers.

Part Two

It had taken longer to reach the Richardson's ranch than Will Tanner had anticipated, and as the three riders approached the mile long track leading to the main house the older man gauged the time to be approaching eleven o’clock.

Tanner and Ben Richardson had seen the tracker’s condition deteriorate rapidly during the night and it was clear to the two men that Vin was in desperate need of immediate medical attention. After a short discussion it had been decided that they should take the tracker back to the house rather than into Four Corners as soon as possible; the ranch was less than a mornings ride away, and more importantly had a qualified doctor in residence. There was no hesitation in abandoning the survey and the three men had left immediately after sunrise.

With a fervent sigh of relief at the sight of the worn track, the older Texan tapped his heels firmly into his horse’s sides as he urged the animal on faster, knowing that the even and well-travelled road would allow for better progress. In his right hand he gripped the split-end reins from Vin’s mount, glancing worriedly at the other man as he clicked his tongue in encouragement to the lathered black gelding carrying the stricken tracker.

Vin sat miserably hunched over in his saddle, unaware of the surrounding countryside or the knowledge that they were now only minutes from their destination. The long numbing ride from the camp had been a torturous journey of intense pain and nausea for the sick man, although for the first couple of hours the tracker had been reasonably alert and had managed to keep apace with the older Texan. However, during the last leg of the arduous trip Vin had fallen into a state of semi-consciousness, slumping forward and staying on his horse only with a combination of excellent riding skill and sheer tenacity. He was not even aware when Tanner had taken his mount's reins.

Will Tanner guided the two horses close to the front porch steps, sliding hastily from his mount as he quickly scanned the deserted yard and corrals. He had completely forgotten that the remainder of the Richardson family along with Constance Bartlett had gone in to Four Corners the previous day, and he let out an exasperated sigh as Ben dismounted from his horse and ran up the front steps, throwing wide the front door of the house and calling for assistance.

“James! Roberts! We need help out here!”

Without waiting for any acknowledgement from within, Tanner hastened round to the side of Vin’s horse, securing the gelding before attempting to get the unresponsive tracker down.

“Ben? What’s wrong?”

James Owen was the first to appear with Roberts right behind him, and he shot an alarmed look at the older Texan and his obviously ailing countryman as he came down the steps. Giving the doctor a grateful glance Tanner unhooked Vin’s feet from the stirrups, noting the younger man’s ashen, tight features and his rapid breathing. Now that his horse had come to a halt the tracker had sunk further forward in his saddle, almost leaning against his gelding's neck, and even though his eyes were half open he did not seem able to focus on anything. Stretching up to get a firm grip on Vin, the older Texan paused when he saw James come forward to run a professional gaze over the motionless tracker.

“He started to get sick yesterday real sudden like," Tanner started to explain. "He got much worse in the night so Ben ‘n’me reckoned it’d be best t’bring him back s’quick as possible. He’s in a lotta pain, Doc, and bin like this fer an hour or more.”

Tanner beckoned to Roberts to help him get the younger man down from his horse as he gave the doctor a brief account of what had occurred. Peering up at the tracker's strained features Owen raised his hand and briefly touched his sweaty forehead. He had noticed when they were riding back from town the previous day that Vin seemed pale and in a little discomfort, but when he had asked the tracker had brushed it aside as nothing. Now he realised he should have been more insistent.

“Get him inside now!” The urgency in his voice chilled Tanner, and he was glad of Roberts help as they carefully eased Vin from the back of his mount.

Vin was not aware that the horse had stopped moving until he felt strong hands reaching for him and dragging him off. The ride had been a nightmare for him as he concentrated on trying to push the pain down to a more bearable level, and nothing else had intruded into his own little world of hurt. Now, as his feet touched the ground, he could not prevent the moan that was wrung from his lips and sweat beaded his forehead as the colour drained from his face. Reaching out blindly, his questing fingers found and clutched tightly at the hitching rail as he doubled over and started to retch. Tanner gripped the younger man’s shoulders as he threw up violently, keeping a firm hold until the spasms ceased. Roberts went round to the other side, catching hold of the exhausted tracker's right arm as his knees started to buckle, and then he and a worried-looking Tanner half-carried Vin into the house, following the doctor as he went down a long corridor that led through to the rear of the building.

Pushing open a door to the right James stepped inside the room that he used as both study and surgery. It was high ceilinged and airy and large enough to accommodate a desk and several chairs as well as a couch which was pushed against the left-hand wall. A sturdy cabinet and a bookcase full of leather bound medical tomes stood behind the desk to the left while two large windows opened onto a walled garden, the heavy wooden shutters pinned back to let in the late morning sunlight. A long bench ran beneath one of the windows, a microscope and a rack of test tubes on one end and a pitcher and large basin in the middle.

He poured some water into the basin and thoroughly scrubbed his hands with the carbolic soap as Tanner and Roberts entered supporting the stricken tracker between them. Ben Richardson was close behind them.

“Lay him over there.” The doctor nodded towards the couch as he dried his hands and then hung his stethoscope around his neck. He watched as the two men eased Vin down, frowning at the way the Texan immediately curled up on his right side, instinctively drawing his knees up so he lay in an almost foetal position. Tanner carefully removed his son's gunbelt and hat, placing them safely on a chair in the corner. “See if you can get his jacket and shirt open,” Owen continued, an uneasy feeling creeping into his mind.

To be fair Tanner tried his best but Vin made it impossible for him. His arms were locked too tightly about his middle and when the tall Texan tried to force him all he succeeded in doing was causing the younger man more distress. Vin just wanted to be left alone, not touched and pulled about.

“No – lemme be,” he moaned, his breath hissing through tightly clenched teeth as he tried to pull away from the tormenting hands. Panic was beginning to set in now; cloistered amongst virtual strangers his natural caution and wariness tried to assert themselves but he couldn’t force his will upon them with sufficient strength to make a difference. Vin was beyond speech or of giving any kind of resistance to what was occurring around him as the relentless agony tore into him. He felt sick and dizzy, but that was nothing compared to the excruciating pain that seemed to pulsate and grind through his stomach causing him to hug his forearms hard into the centre of his abdomen.

"He’s hurting real bad, Doc.” There was worry in Tanner’s voice as he pulled up a chair and sat down beside the couch staring at the man as he huddled on his side. The tracker’s lips trembled with pain and sweat trickled down his ashen face as James touched the older man on the shoulder.

“How long has he been sick, Will? Tell me how it started.”

Tanner thought carefully as he told the Englishman everything he knew about Vin’s worsening condition over the last day.

"Waal, he started to feel real bad last night, but he told me his belly had been rough all day. I noticed he didn't eat much, but then the pain got worse so's he could hardly stand."

"Where was this pain?" Owen asked, Grainger's words reinforcing his earlier unease.

"Last night he told me it was sharp, like a knife twistin' in his guts, 'bout here." Leaning back Tanner placed a hand on the middle of his own flat stomach. "But this morning he said it'd moved down to here." Now the man moved his hand lower and to the right as he indicated the new position. "I know summat's seriously wrong wit' him. What d'ya think it is, Doc?"

The older man gazed at the doctor, and James was surprised by the worry and concern in Grainger’s voice. He was sure that the older Texan had never met Vin Tanner until the tracker had arrived at his brother-in-law's ranch yesterday, but it now appeared as though Will had developed a strong protectiveness towards the sick man on the couch.

“I have an idea,” he admitted at length. “But I'd rather not speculate until I’ve examined him further.” Putting the stethoscope to his ears he placed the other end on the tracker's chest, listening carefully to his heartbeat. At the first touch of the cold metal Vin's eyelids fluttered several times and he gave a low moan as he tried to curl into a tighter ball in an attempt to protect his aching stomach. The severe and constant pain the tracker was suffering had driven away all coherent thought, and his whole world consisted only of agony where all he wanted to do was escape into a warm, comforting cocoon. Vin was barely aware of his surroundings and did not even know if he was in a potentially dangerous or vulnerable situation; he was unable to process any rational thoughts, and he was simply too sick to care at present.

"James?" Richardson prompted, seeing the worried frown on Owen's face.

"Well, his heartbeat is very rapid, but that's only to be expected considering the pain he's in," the young Englishman replied.

“Can’t you give him something?" Ben asked.

"What about some laudanum or summat?" Tanner suggested.

“I can give him some morphine,” James went on, slightly unnerved by the angry look from the Texan. He had already considered this before the man made the request, realising it was going to be the only way he could make a proper examination of the tracker. “It will make him feel more comfortable.”

Crossing over to the cabinet behind his desk Owen unlocked the door. Inside Tanner could see several drawers and shelves laden with bottles and jars, potions and drugs that the doctor wisely kept under lock and key. Removing a small bottle, a long leather case, and a thin glass phial he placed them on the bench under the window.

“Roberts, I need some boiling water. Do you mind?”

Charles Roberts had been standing in the doorway, silently observing the proceedings and wondering - like Owen and Richardson - just why Tanner seemed so concerned over a virtual stranger, and he gave a sudden start as he realised that the doctor was talking to him.

"Of course not, sir. Is there anything else you need?" the man asked, and James shook his head.

"Not for the moment."

Roberts nodded in acknowledgement and left. The kitchen was just a short walk further along the corridor so the man would not be that long. While he was gone Owen opened the leather case and took the hypodermic syringe from inside, laying it on a piece of clean linen. As he continued with his preparations Tanner watched him with interested curiosity, his attention divided between what the young doctor was doing and the ailing tracker as he remained by his side.

The door was pushed open as Roberts returned carrying a flat dish and a steaming kettle which he placed on the bench. Owen poured the boiling water into the dish and lowered the syringe carefully into it using a pair of small forceps. He rolled it around gently for a few moments, glancing up briefly as the tracker shifted and groaned. Once he was satisfied that the instrument had been thoroughly sterilised he lifted it out – still using the forceps – and laid it on the piece of linen to dry.

“If you've no further need of me, sir, I’m going to make some coffee.” The man knew that James Owen was more than capable of dealing with things here so he decided to make himself useful elsewhere.

“No – that’s fine. I’ll call if I need you.” Richardson remained unobtrusively in the background as Roberts left, pulling the door to behind him, and the doctor turned once again to Grainger. “Can you roll his sleeve up, Will? I’m just about ready.” Sitting down on the edge of the couch Owen grasped Vin’s right wrist, his grip firm as the Texan tried to draw back and he loosely pinned it down, tapping the inside of the tracker's forearm several times as he searched for a suitable vein. “This will take the edge off the pain without knocking him out, but it will relax him enough to make him more comfortable. Can you hold his arm still? That’s it. Now on no account let him move it!” the doctor ordered Grainger as he wiped an area of skin with alcohol.

Tanner could not help but be fascinated as the doctor expertly slid the needle into Vin’s arm, and he subconsciously held his breath as the man slowly turned the syringe's screw to discharge the drug. The tracker remained completely still during this procedure, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, and after deftly withdrawing the needle the Englishman pressed a small dressing to the puncture hole and stood up.

Vin was lost, not quite knowing where he was. His mind throbbed with each wave of pain that rolled over him and he had to keep his jaw clenched tightly shut to stop himself crying out. His muscles were bunched so tight that he could barely raise his hand and every nerve felt as though it was being scraped raw. Even the simple action of drawing breath was an effort. Suddenly he felt something close about his arm, the grip on his wrist firm and unyielding, and he tried to pull away.

‘No – don’t!’

The words formed in his head, but his vocal chords seemed paralysed and he was unable to force them out, only hearing the faint croaking of his voice as if from a great distance. He continued his feeble struggle against the restraining grasp but to no avail. Then Vin felt a sudden pain in his arm, brief and sharp, and the sensation of something sliding under his skin, but before he could even blink the agony was receding, dropping back until he could breathe without hurting.

"Just let him rest for a few minutes, Will. The morphine won't take long to work."

Tanner loosed his grip on Vin's arm and brushed his fingers lightly across the younger man's brow before following the doctor across the room.

"So what're ya gonna do next?" he asked, perching on the corner of the desk as Owen cleaned the syringe, dried it off and replaced it in the case.

"Once the drug has taken effect I'll examine him properly," the Englishman told him. "I may be able to make a more accurate diagnosis then, but - " The rattle of cups interupted what he was about to say as Charles Roberts brought in the coffee tray which he placed on the desk.

"How's he doing?" he asked, casting an eye towards the couch before pouring the coffee and handing a cup to each man.

"Not so good," Tanner admitted, accepting the scalding beverage gratefully.

“Do you think someone should ride into town to let them know that the young man’s been taken ill?” he asked of no one in particular.

Ben took a sip of his coffee and then set the cup down before replying to the butler’s question. His attention was focussed on the man on the couch who had stirred slightly and seemed to be rousing from his stupor.

"Maybe, but I'll leave that decision to James. What do you think?" he asked, turning to his brother-in-law. Stepping closer the doctor could see that the lines of pain that had creased Vin’s face were fading as the drug took effect and his breathing had levelled out to a more normal pattern.

“Hmm? Erm... I think I’d like to check him over first. It’s a long ride and I believe Chris and the others would rather have the facts before coming all this way,” he said absently, sitting down and picking up a slack wrist as he began counting his patient's pulse rate again.

Vin could hear the murmur of several voices, and taking a long slow breath he opened his eyes, blinking and frowning in confusion as he tried to work out where he was. The terrible pain that had gripped him inside had diminished a little, and while he could still feel the awful throbbing on the right side of his stomach it was now more bearable. The rigid tension that had knotted up his shoulders and back had also receded and he found he could straighten his legs a little, shifting over on the couch as he visibly relaxed.

"Well at least his heartbeat's a little steadier," James said with relief, glancing up as Tanner came to stand beside him, staring down at the tracker with concern. Vin blinked and turned his head towards the Englishman's voice, the blue eyes cloudy and bewildered.

“Chris?” Panic flared in the tracker’s glazed eyes, and he twisted his head around frantically seeking the familiar presence of his closest friend.

“Easy, son. I’ll go and get yer friends later, but for now jes’ lay nice an’ quiet while the doc has a looksee.” Tanner’s voice held a soothing tone, and the firm hand that rested on Vin’s shoulder was reminiscent of the times that Chris Larabee had given comfort and support to him on occasions of injury or illness. Somewhat mollified by the older man’s proximity the tracker subsided against the pillow, although the plain truth was that he just did not have the energy to try and get up off the couch.

"Ben, can you pass me that phial, please?" James requested. He laid a hand across the Texan’s forehead feeling the slight clamminess there, and then took the glass phial that his brother-in-law handed to him. Removing the stopper, he took out the pocket thermometer and shook it once quickly. “Vin, I’m going to check your temperature. I have something called a thermometer but I need to slip it under your tongue. Can you open up for me?” The tracker nodded, opening his mouth a fraction so Owen could slip the tube in. “Good. Now don’t talk and don’t bite down on it!”

Slipping out of the chair the doctor went across to his desk, opening a drawer and taking out a notebook and pencil. As James stepped away Tanner took his place, moving the chair a little closer as he gave his son a reassuring smile. and Vin started to respond but then stopped, fearful of breaking the fragile glass tube in his mouth. He could not help thinking how strange this all was and he knew that Nathan would find this all extremely interesting. However, thinking about Nathan only served to heighten his nervousness; he was still surrounded by comparative strangers and it was obvious from the way he felt that he was very sick.

"Alright, let's see what we've got." Owen took the thermometer out and studied the numbers down the side, before shaking it again and dropping it back into its protective phial. As he had expected the reading was a few degrees above the norm. With a nod of satisfaction he jotted a few more notes into the book and then placed it on the table.

"Doc?" There was a question in Tanner's voice, but the doctor was not ready to commit himself to a specific diagnosis yet.

"Can you give me a hand to take his coat off?” With the Texan's help James slipped off Vin's jacket, but as he started to unbutton the shirt and longjohns the tracker became agitated, panic reasserting itself as he felt hands tugging at his clothing.

“Vin – it’s alright, boy.” Tanner caught his wrists in a firm but gentle grip and squeezed reassuringly. “The doc’s gotta find out what’s wrong.”

Whilst the older man kept a tight hold, Owen quickly unfastened the tracker's pants and eased them down past his hips. Vin swallowed noisily, trying to steady his breathing as he considered Grainger's words. Old habits died hard, and lying so helpless in a house full of people he barely knew did not sit comfortably with him. His first instinct was to protect his back, or let Chris or one of the others protect it, but he did not have that luxury at the moment. The tracker had no choice but to trust James Owen.

“It's alright, Vin. I just need to feel your stomach and side," the doctor explained, trying to calm his distressed patient and the Texan nodded slowly. “Fine. But first can you tell me if you hurt anywhere else? Have you had any falls or accidents lately?"

"No. Just ain't bin feelin' so good fer a coupla days." The tracker's voice was weary but he realised that these questions were important as the doctor went on.

"What I'm going to do will hurt, but you have to tell me exactly where the pain is. Okay?" Vin nodded once again and closed his eyes. "Now, does that hurt?” The man slipped his hand under the longjohns on the tracker’s left side and pressed down lightly.

“No,” came back the reply, and the doctor moved his hand lower and nearer to the middle of the Texan’s stomach.

“What about now?” he asked unnecessarily as the pressure brought a sudden gasp from Vin. “Is it a little tender?”

“Yeah!” Vin hissed, but he was not prepared for what Owen did next.

“And this?” As the Englishman pressed down gently on his right side Vin’s world exploded, his strangled cry echoing around the room. He had thought it impossible for the agony to increase but it felt as if an iron spike had been driven through his belly and his knees jerked upwards reflexively as he curled inwards again, hands clenched so tightly that his nails cut bloody half moons into the palms.

“Jeez, Doc! Did ya hav’ta do that?” Tanner shifted his grip, moving to sit on the edge of the couch as he pulled Vin close. Rubbing soothingly at the tracker’s back he tried to comfort him but the young Texan was ensnared, his body taut and rigid. The dark lashes were damp with tears of pain, and all sense of reason and self-awareness fled from his mind. His only companion now was wave after wave of intense, stabbing pain.

“Steady, Vin. Y’jes’ rest easy fer a moment while the doc and me go an’ have a talk. We’ll not be far away, son.” Tanner released his hold on Vin, easing him back against the pillow and pulling a blanket up over him before turning to Owen. “What’s wrong?” the Texan demanded as the other man remained silent.

The doctor stepped over to his desk and sat down, his face troubled as he studied the notebook. Tanner brushed back the sweat damp hair from the tracker's forehead and then strode across the room, determined to get to the truth.

“What’s wrong?” he repeated, placing his palms on the desktop and leaning forward, his whole stance menacing.

The young doctor chewed his lip for a second or two before replying because he was not certain how the Texan would react to what he was about to say. James had known Grainger for a few months now, but he was still wary and a little intimidated by the man. Whilst the Englishman admitted that the man was not unfriendly, it seemed that Will Grainger did not make acquaintances easily, or form any type of close relationship. The few ranch hands that had been hired by the family kept the Texan at a discreet distance, which obviously suited the taciturn man. Grainger had struck up a rapport with Ben Richardson, and he was only too eager to hear about the family's plans and projects for the future. But there was something different now in the older man’s manner that piqued the doctor’s curiosity. It evidently concerned the seriously ill tracker, and he was puzzled that Grainger displayed a hitherto unseen anxiety about the health of a virtual stranger. Finally James spoke.

“Well, I can't be a hundred percent certain, but he is showing all the symptoms of acute appendicitis,” he said slowly.

“Appendicitis?” Tanner drew a sharp breath and glanced across at the couch. Vin was quiet enough for the moment, but his laboured breathing could be heard across the room. “Are ya sure? So yer gonna take out his appendix now, huh?” It was not really a question; Tanner expected nothing less from Owen, and his tone clearly conveyed that.

“No, Will. It’s customary to wait and observe the patient for a period of time. This operation is a difficult and dangerous procedure and I won’t take that type of risk if there’s a chance his condition could improve. It isn’t unusual for an appendix to flare up periodically, although I must admit his symptoms are very severe.” James flinched a little at the angry glare Grainger shot his way and for a second he thought the other man would strike him.

“Wait? The boy can’t wait, doc! This can turn deadly real fast, and yer sayin’ yer jes’ gonna sit and wait ‘til its too late? I’ve seen a kid die ‘cos there warn’t no medical help to be had!"

“So have I.” The quiet comment came from Roberts and the other three looked round at him in surprise. They had been so caught up in the tense situation that they had almost forgotten the presence of the butler until he spoke. The man stood at the end of the couch, his expression tormented as he regarded the sorely afflicted tracker.

"Roberts, are you alright?" Richardson was concerned by the anguish on the man's face. The butler turned to them and his eyes were haunted.

"I saw my son die from this," he whispered. "My only child - and he was barely fifteen years old."

Both Richardson and James were stunned by this hushed statement; they had not been aware that Roberts and his wife had had a child before now, but Tanner pounced on the news.

"See? Y'ain't got a choice. Ya gotta operate!" The Texan was angry but adamant and he leaned forward to grasp the front of Owen's shirt. The doctor paled and licked his lips nervously, but suddenly Ben was there laying a restraining hand on the American's shoulder.

“Hold on now, Will. James isn’t saying he won’t help Vin, just that he wants to be absolutely sure. Even I can see that he's really sick, but you’re saying that you’ll operate if necessary aren’t you, James?” Richardson had fended off the incensed Texan and he made his final question to his brother-in-law almost sound like an order.

“No I’m not, Ben. I'm sorry you've suffered such a devastating loss, Roberts, but my conscience won't allow me to make snap judgements like that,” Owen said apologetically.

"Yer nothin' but a cheap sideshow drummer!" Tanner growled savagely, shaking off Richardson's hand but making no further assault on the young Englishman. "You call yerself a doctor? That's real funny. Ya just ain't got the balls to admit ya can't do it!"

“Will, I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t want to... it’s just… “ James hesitated. How could he tell this tough, dangerous man that he was afraid? Although he knew in theory how an appendectomy was done – and had seen it performed once in his short career – he had never done it himself. The procedure was almost as dangerous as the condition itself and he simply was not confident enough to carry out the operation.

“I thought you doctor's’re supposed to save lives?” Anger and contempt throbbed through Tanner’s words, but he kept his voice low even though he wanted to scream at Owen and shake him until his teeth rattled. “Never thought I’d see one who’d let a boy die ‘cos he’s too scared to try!” The Texan knew he had found the reason when he saw the guilty flush on the Englishman’s face, and he turned away in disgust.

“I can’t understand what’s got into you, Will." Ben was bewildered by the man's aggressive attitude. "You barely know Vin, yet you’re acting like he’s your long lost son.”

“That’s ‘cos he is my son, dammit!” the older man grated out, not caring any longer who knew this fact.

“Your son? Good Lord!” Three faces mirrored their shock but it was Richardson who spoke first. "So why in God's name haven't you said anything before?"

“It’s personal. I don’t want t’say too much ‘cos it ain’t jes’ me that’s involved, but I promise ya m’boy does know who I am. All I will say is that I’ve bin seeking him fer a long time, and I don’t want to lose him now. So Doctor, why don’t ya tell me again why ya refuse t’help my son?” This final icy comment to Owen well and truly flung the gauntlet down, and the others could almost taste the venom in Tanner’s words.

"I'm sorry, Will, but knowing he's your son makes my decision even harder." There was genuine regret in James' voice. "You have to understand that in Great Britain it’s not really common practice to remove an appendix although I am aware that here in America your surgeons are using the procedure on a fairly regular basis. It is a very risky undertaking and requires a great deal of surgical skill. I have never done this operation before, and the only time I saw it performed the patient died. You can see now why I am so reluctant to proceed. I don't think I have much choice when I say I'd rather wait for a while.”

"Dammit!" Tanner slammed his fist down on the desk. "There are always choices! I ain’t gonna stand around and see Vin suffer and die."

“What are you going to do?” Roberts asked as he looked at the three men in turn. Whilst he could understand James' hesitance to a certain degree he also knew how Will Tanner felt. There was no greater heartbreak for a parent than to see one's child die, and he could empathise with the Texan, one father to another.

“I’m gonna fetch Nathan Jackson. He may not be a qualified doctor but I know he’ll do his damndest to save Vin!”

Pushing past the three astonished men, the Texan went back over to the couch and crouched down. Vin had not stirred during the fifteen minutes that the four men had had their heated discussion and as the older man gazed down at his semi-conscious son he wondered whether he would have enough time to fetch Nathan Jackson. It was clear that the tracker was dangerously ill, and he would need a skilled healer and a large measure of good fortune if he were to pull through.

"Y’hang on fer yer pa, son. I hav’ta go fer help, but ya gotta stay with me, y’hear? I promise ya, I’ll be back real soon.” Even asleep the tracker’s mouth twitched and his fingers clutched spasmodically at the sheet beneath his body, the morphine not completely masking the pain. Tanner straightened up, his decision made. There could be no more time wasting with Vin's life at stake. “I need to borrow a fresh horse, Mr Richardson. I’m gonna need summat fast and strong if I have any chance of savin’ m’boy. Doc, I’m gonna bring Nathan Jackson here. All I ask is that y’do what y’can fer him ‘til I return.”

Roberts gave the doctor a rueful look but did not say anything as he went back to the kitchen and Richardson followed the Texan out. Left alone with the suffering tracker, James cursed his own trepidation and his inexperience. Even back in England he would have still hesitated, but at least there he would have had colleagues to back up his decision for good or ill, but here… the surroundings were still more crude than he was comfortable with.

With a sigh he turned back to the sleeping man and started to remove his boots and the remainder of his clothing before covering him with a sheet and a light blanket. The least he could do was carry on with his observations and keep the Texan as comfortable as possible. He did not dare think about the possible consequences when Will Tanner returned from Four Corners.

Richardson and Tanner quickly reached the main stables, and pausing briefly to refill his canteen at the well the Texan was puzzled when he saw the Englishman disappear into the smaller stable block which housed his prized Arab stallion. The Texan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at first, but on seeing his boss lead out the thoroughbred his face lit up with relieved delight.

“I know you need the best and the fastest for this errand. Your son’s life is very important Will, and if Prince can give you the extra time you need then you must take him with my blessing.” Richardson handed over the reins before going back inside for the Arab's English style saddle.

The Texan did not know what to say to this generous offer. The animal was the finest piece of horseflesh he had ever seen, and Mersey Prince was destined to be the sire for the Richardson's new bloodline. The horse was strong and ran like the wind, which gave Tanner renewed hope as he knew that he would be able to cut his journey time to the town by at least thirty minutes. It did not sound like much but to Vin it could be the difference between life and death, and he would have to make that saving count for something.

Ben had thrown the lightweight saddle on the horse and Tanner eyed it critically before stepping forward to lengthen the stirrup leathers as he readied Prince for what was probably the most important race of his life. Strapping his canteen over his shoulder, Will Tanner turned gratefully to his boss and held out his right hand.

“I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, Mr Richardson. If Vin don’t make it it won’t be because he lacked effort from you. Look out fer m’son, won’tcha? He’s all that’s left o’ m’family.” The two grasped hands firmly and then Tanner climbed atop the prancing stallion. With a farewell nod he kicked the horse into motion.

Will Tanner was thankful for the speed of the bay stallion between his knees. At another time and under different circumstances he would have appreciated the effortless grace as the Arab raced along like the wind itself, but right now it was simply a means to an end. Less than an hour and a quarter after he had left the ranch he was tearing along the main street of Four Corners, scattering other riders as he headed for the clinic.

“Jackson! Nathan Jackson!” he yelled as he brought his sweating mount to a rump-scraping halt before the Livery, out of the saddle almost before the bay had stopped. Knotting the reins quickly around the top rail of the corral, Tanner was halfway up the stairs before Nathan appeared on the top landing.

”Ya looking for me?” he asked with a frown, recognising the man after a few seconds. Then he looked down, expecting to see a familiar black gelding below. “What's happened? Where’s Vin?”

Chris Larabee was just leaving the jailhouse when the fast moving horse raced down the town's main thoroughfare. As he looked along the dusty street he saw the back of the horse and rider cantering towards the livery. The gunslinger knew who it was and where he was going even before he recognised Ben Richardson's Arab stallion and he started to hurry along the boardwalk. Chris went cold and a shiver ran down his spine as a fearful apprehension gripped his mind. With an eerie flash of prescience he knew that Grainger was coming to tell them that Vin was in serious trouble. This feeling of foreboding gave the man additional impetus and he picked up speed, running flat out for the last few yards or so. Flinging the clinic door open Chris breathlessly confronted Nathan and the man he knew as Will Grainger.

“Grainger! What’s happened? Where’s Vin?” Chris unwittingly echoed the questions that the healer had just asked, and the two peacekeepers stared in mutual alarm at the man before them.

“Back at the ranch,” the Texan told them as he wiped the perspiration from his face with his bandana. The Arab stallion had given his all, cutting nearly half an hour off the journey time, but the stress on the rider was almost as great as that on the horse. Hastily crossing to his dresser Nathan filled a cup with water, passing it to the exhausted man. Tanner’s hand shook as he lifted it to his lips and as he gulped down the cold liquid his eyes met Chris’ worried hazel gaze. Seeing the raw fear in the gunslinger’s eyes Tanner hurriedly put down the empty cup, taking a deep breath as he started to explain the reason for his desperate ride.

“Vin's real sick an' I need ya to come out to Richardson's place. We had to abandon the trip ‘cos he started to get pains. Doc Owen say’s he’s got appendicitis.” Tanner ignored the healer’s hissing intake of breath as the man began to make his own medical assessment of the condition. Chris paled a little; he knew how dangerous appendicitis could be but there had to be more to it if Grainger had ridden into town – and ridden hard if the lathered Arab was anything to go by – to find Nathan. He remembered the healer telling him in awed tones how James Owen had qualified from one of the best teaching hospitals in Manchester, England, and only desperation would have caused him to seek out another medical man, albeit one without any real formal training.

“Thing is, the doc won’t operate – say’s he’d rather wait an’ see, but I’ve seen this afore an’ I know the boy ain’t got much time. Nathan, he’s in a real bad way. Y’gotta go out there an’ help him else he’ll die!” There was almost a note of pleading in the man’s voice but neither Chris nor Nathan fully assimilated that curious fact; worry for their sick friend overrode all other concerns.

Nathan nodded wordlessly although he did not know if he would be able to help his friend at all. The healer had never had a patient with appendicitis before, and even during the War Between the States when he was a stretcher-bearer and sometime medic he had never witnessed any of the Army surgeons carrying out the procedure. The only knowledge he had of the serious complaint was what he had read in one of his textbooks, but that was nothing like having first hand experience or even the consolation of seeing the operation performed by another doctor. Accepting the existence of all the difficulties he knew he would be up against Nathan was still determined that he would provide his friend with whatever medical help he could, and pushing his trepidation aside he began to think about what he would need to take with him.

“Chris, I need yer help to pack my medical kit. We’ll split it up between the two of us ‘cos we’re gonna have to travel fast if… ” the healer was interrupted by Will Tanner.

“Three, Nathan. I’m coming back with ya.”

Chris could feel the anger rising in him. What did this man think he was doing? He was a stranger to Vin’s; the two had only met the day before but now Grainger was acting as if he was the tracker’s life-long friend and even exhibiting signs that he cared about the younger man.

“We know the way, Grainger,” Chris growled. Glancing to where Nathan was already sorting through his dresser the gunslinger turned dismissively away from the older man. Tanner’s eyes glittered dangerously and he grabbed Chris’ arm, spinning the black dressed man back to face him.

“I’m going back ‘cos I promised the boy I would. Y’can ride with me, or y’can eat my trail dust! The choice is yers, Larabee.”

Suddenly Chris was moving shoving the Texan back against the wall, his forearm pressed to the man’s throat.

“I don't give a damn about your promises,” he snarled. “Vin needs us - not some low-life scum like you!“

“Chris!” Nathan’s fingers clamped around the gunslinger’s forearm trying to drag it back whilst his other hand tightened painfully about the man’s right shoulder.

“Get yer hands off me!” Tanner hissed. Blue eyes glared back at Chris without flinching, and It was Nathan who broke the deadlock as he physically hauled the two men apart, trying to defuse the tense situation before it spiralled out of control.

"Stop it the both of ya! We need to get going an’ neither of ya are doing Vin any good like this. Chris, pack these in here.” Nathan indicated a satchel and an assortment of bottles, dried herbs and two heavy books. “Will, go to the livery an’ tell Tiny or Chas to ready our hosses. Explain that ya need a fresh mount an’ yer riding wit’ Chris an’ me.” At this last part the healer glared at the gunslinger, almost daring the man to contradict his order.

Chris forced himself to relax as he began stowing the supplies in the bag. He could not put his finger on the reason but the Texan made his hackles rise as soon as he came anywhere near him. It went beyond a lack of trust but Chris was at a loss as to why he kept reacting to Grainger the way he did. The gunslinger was aware that all his friends had felt his increasing animosity to the man but they all seemed to be able to get on with him and in fact Buck had admitted to Chris that he actually liked Will Grainger. Watching as the Texan left the clinic Chris tugged the satchel straps closed and then carefully slung it over his shoulder as he went over to where Nathan was checking his medical kit.

“You ready, Nathan? The sooner we get going the happier I’ll be.” Chris was focussed on only one thing now. He would not be able to relax until he knew that Vin was safe in the healer's care especially when the tracker was as sick as Grainger had intimated. Nathan picked up his kit and nodded to his friend.

“Yeah. We need to find Josiah or Buck, an’ let ‘em know what’s happening. Chris, we can’t jump to any conclusions jes’ yet. James Owen seems to be a reasonable man, so mebbe I can talk t’him an’ persuade him to change his mind.”

Nathan was worried himself, so he could only imagine what was going through Chris’ mind about the condition of the young Texan. The bond that encompassed the seven peacekeepers seemed to revolve around Vin, and if the tracker died then the circle of friendship would be severed. More than that, it would be impossible to repair the break because another link in that hitherto strong ring would also be lost. The death of Vin Tanner would rip half of the newly found soul from Chris Larabee, and the healer did not believe the gunslinger would ever overcome that.

Time was of the essence now so Nathan pushed his fears to one side and with a final look around his small clinic he strode through the door after the departing gunslinger, praying that Will Grainger was waiting with the horses.

Charles Roberts had lost count of how many times he had stepped out onto the porch and stared into the distance looking for some sign of Will Tanner. More than four hours had passed since the Texan's departure and the condition of the young tracker had grown steadily worse during that time.

A measure of the respect that Roberts had had for young James Owen had been lost due to the man's inaction and also in part to his own anger. Under other circumstances he would not have questioned the doctor's judgement but this was different.

There was also a more personal level to the desperate situation. Roberts was a deeply religious man but all the prayers in the world had not saved his own son from a painful and unnecessary death and now he could see history repeating itself. It was a situation he would not have wished on his worst enemy and to see it happening to Will Tanner - a man he considered a friend - brought back every agonising memory with sharp clarity. He could still see the look on Annie's face when he had told her of the young tracker's plight and he knew she was remembering Alan too. Their son would have been about Vin’s age now if he had lived. He had expected her to be upset but he had not been prepared for her anger - a mother's anger - which she levelled at the doctor. When she had taken the lunch trays in to Owen and Richardson and slammed one down on the desk in front of James without a word both men were under no illusions as to her feelings.

"Still no sign of them?"

Ben Richardson's words jolted him back to the present and he looked up as the man came from the house to sit beside him on the bench next to the front door.

"Not yet, sir."

"It'll be dark in a few hours," Richardson stated casting an eye at the sky. "They should be back by then."

"I hope so." The fervour in Roberts voice caused Richardson to glance at him in concern.

"I'm sorry about your son, Charles. I had no idea." He had known the butler for almost ten years and he could only speculate now how he and his wife must be feeling. He could also sympathise with Will Tanner. When the man first disclosed his relationship to Vin Ben had finally understood why he had been so concerned about the tracker the previous night. However, the American now faced the very real prospect of losing him before he had even had the chance to get to know him.

"Why won't he do something?" Roberts continued almost to himself. "Can't he see it's the boy's only chance?"

Ben was not sure whether the butler was talking about his own son or Vin Tanner but before he had the chance to ask he heard the sound of pounding hoofbeats. Both men were on their feet immediately and Richardson raised his eyebrows in surprise as three riders galloped towards the house.

"Will! Thank Heavens you're back!" There was no disguising the relief in the Englishman's voice as Tanner slid from the back of his sweat-stained horse.

"How's Vin?" the Texan asked hurrying forward.

"Not so good but maybe Nathan can make James change his mind. Lord knows I've tried!"

"He still won't operate?" Nathan glanced quickly at Chris as he asked the question but the gunslinger was just glaring icily at Tanner as he dismounted from his black, quickly throwing the reins over the rail before unfastening a large satchel from the saddle.

"I'm afraid not." Richardson had done his utmost to persuade his young brother-in-law that he was Vin's only chance, but James was still refusing to act. He knew that if Amy had been here she would have forced her twin to carry out the lifesaving operation no matter what.

"Where's Vin?" The gunslinger spoke for the first time and Ben could hear the concern in the man's voice.

"Come on," he said, leading them through to Owen's rooms at the back of the house. The doctor was sitting beside the sleeping tracker when Richardson ushered them in and he looked around, his expression one of relief when he saw Nathan. However, that feeling was fleeting when he looked beyond the tall healer and saw the grim faces of Tanner and Chris Larabee. Owen swallowed in trepidation; he had already experienced the Texan's volatile temper but he had no idea how Chris would react with his friend so dangerously ill.

"Nathan." The Englishman climbed to his feet and held out his hand. "I'm pleased to see you again. I only wish the circumstances could have been different."

"We ain't got time for all this bullshit!" Tanner stepped forward before Nathan could reply and his face was angry. "I told ya I was gonna get some real help so why don't ya just get outta his way?"

Owen took an involuntary step back in the face of the Texan's wrath but Nathan moved between the two men, his face serious as he tried to placate them.

At the point when James Owen had left Vin's side Chris had brushed past him and slipped into the vacant seat ignoring the others as he concentrated his attention on the tracker. Vin lay slightly hunched on his right side, the cover pulled up to just above his waist while his left arm was draped lightly across his stomach. Reaching out a hand Chris gently smoothed a stray lock of hair from his friend’s face, noticing the almost grey colour of his skin and the furrowed lines of pain and stress around his eyes and mouth. The gunslinger did not have to be a qualified doctor or even a skilled healer to see just how sick the young Texan was or to know that each passing minute pushed the situation to an ever more critical level.

"Hang in there, pard," he whispered as he leaned forward and rested his hand lightly on Vin's right arm but then he looked up as he heard the older Texan's voice raised in anger. For a brief moment he considered intervening but then he felt the tracker's arm jerk beneath his palm and he looked back as Vin groaned and moved his head slightly.

"Vin?" Chris watched as the dark lashes fluttered several times and the blue eyes slowly opened. The gunslinger's fingers tightened around his friend's forearm, the grip and the tone of his voice conveying just how worried he was. Vin blinked a couple of times as he frowned in confusion and then the merest hint of a smile touched his lips as he stared blearily at the man sitting beside him.

"H... hey... cowboy." The tracker sounded tired and pain tinged his slurred words, but he was relieved to discover that Chris was finally here. The gunslinger forced a reassuring grin to his lips even though he was in no mood for smiling.

"Nathan's here. He'll have you fixed up in no time." Chris put as much conviction into his words as he could even though he was not certain himself what Nathan was going to do. Vin relaxed with a soft sigh and closed his eyes once again, not even flinching when Nathan stepped forward and placed two gentle fingers to the pulse point in his neck His heartbeat was quite rapid and his skin felt clammy to the touch and the healer glanced at Owen as he came to stand beside him.

"James, we need to talk. Shall we go out fer a short breather?” Nathan gave the younger man no chance to object, grasping his arm tightly and leading him out of the door.

With the departure of Nathan and Owen Will Tanner now found himself reduced to being merely a spectator and he was not happy. He was beginning to see the strength of the bond between the peacekeepers in Four Corners, and in particular he could see Chris Larabee being a major obstacle to the relationship he hoped to cultivate with his son. The nagging feeling of unease was starting to make itself known; now that he had the chance to make up for all those lost years and missed opportunities he did not want anyone else to come between them. He needed his time with Vin but he would have to curb his impatience for now until he could gain the younger man's trust and respect.

As the two men stood in the narrow hallway Owen could not avoid Nathan's intense scrutiny. He could feel the healer's anger simmering just beneath the surface and he honestly could not blame him.

"Are ya certain it's appendicitis?" Nathan was tight-lipped as he asked the question and Owen nodded.

"Yes. I've checked him for everything else, but I'm positive my initial diagnosis is correct."

“Then you have to operate, James. Now!”

"I'm sorry, Nathan. I... I can't!" he whispered. "What if Vin dies?"

"If ya do nothin' he's gonna die anyway!" Nathan pointed out. "I don't see that ya gotta choice." There was no mistaking the urgency in the dark skinned healer’s statement but the other man made no reply, knowing the American was right. For as long as he could remember all he had ever wanted to be was a doctor; the desire to help people had inspired him through the years of rigorous training but now, at the moment of truth, his courage was failing him.

"I know what you must think of me."

"No - ya don't. Ya have the knowledge and training t'do this. D'ya have any idea what I'd give to be in yer shoes?" The passion and fire in Nathan's voice made James feel wretched and he lowered his gaze.

"You don't know what you're asking of me. The truth is I'm scared," he confessed reluctantly. Taking a deep breath he let it out slowly. "I never thought I'd hear myself say that. You must understand I've never done this operation before."

"There's a first time for everything." Nathan gripped the younger man's shoulder and stared at him intently. "That's what being a doctor is all about! Can't you feel that?" The healer grabbed James' hands and turned them over. "You have the expertise right here. Use it!" he declared passionately.

"I appreciate what you're saying, but I count Vin as a friend. How can I risk his life?"

"Believe me it's not easy." Nathan thought back to the countless times that he had had to tend to the various wounds and injuries that his friends sustained. Their job was dangerous, and in some cases he had fought for their very lives. No amount of training could prepare you for that but it was something you had to learn to push aside, otherwise you would not be able to function. "But knowing they're yer friends makes ya try even harder."

The younger man gazed at Nathan hearing the ardent emotion in the healer's voice. It was the same fire that had burned in him when he had first qualified, the desire to help the sick and needy and to push forward the frontiers of medical knowledge. Now, listening to this man who had no formal training, the Englishman realised that Nathan's words had re-affirmed his own belief in his abilities. He might have lost a little of his confidence but he now knew that he had to at least try. Having made his decision there was one more thing that he needed to ask.

"If I do this... I'm not sure I can carry this through on my own," he stated truthfully. "Will you help me?"

Nathan stared at him in stunned disbelief and a huge smile spread across his face. This was something he had only dared to dream about, the chance to work alongside a real doctor, and there was no hesitation in his reply.

"Of course I will. I'd be honoured, James," he answered emphatically, holding out his hand.

"Thank you." Owen gripped the healer's hand warmly, his sentiment heartfelt.

"I'll go tell Chris. He's gonna be mighty relieved." Now that the difficult situation had been resolved they needed to look into the practicalities of where the operation would be carried out but Nathan's first instinct was to inform the gunslinger of James' decision.

"Don't you think we should tell Will first?" the doctor suggested.

"Will? Why?" There was a puzzled expression on Nathan's face as he tried to comprehend Owen's words.

"You don't know." It was not a question; the Englishman could see by Nathan's perplexed reaction that the healer had no idea what he was talking about. The American's next slightly exasperated comment confirmed that.

"Know what?"

"That Will is Vin's father. Oh God, Nathan - I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

Vin's father? Nathan knew he was staring stupidly at James but he could not help himself. If the Englishman had just told him that Abraham Lincoln was still alive he could not have been more surprised. As far as he and the others were aware Vin's father was long dead, and although the tracker had mentioned his mother it appeared that he had never even known his father.

"Vin's father." Nathan breathed the comment out loud almost as though he were trying to get used to the idea. He was stunned by the revelation but then a sudden thought occured to him. "Does Vin know?"

"According to Will he does. He's been looking for him for some years." The doctor shook his head. "I only wish the timing could have been better."

For a moment Nathan thought back to the day that his own father had suddenly come back into his life and he gave a faint smile at the joy he had felt at that time despite the traumatic circumstances. He could only hope that Vin would have the same chance he has had to spend time with his father.

"I think we ought to go and tell them. We need to get things started." Owen's confidence had been reinstated and he was now ready to proceed with the tricky operation. As he stepped back towards his study Nathan started to follow but then stopped, an uneasy look on his face as he realised that he was going to have to tell Chris Larabee about Will's connection to his best friend. It was not something he was looking forward to.

"Nathan?" Owen had paused as the healer hesitated, but Nathan waved him on. There was no way the Englishman would understand his apprehension.

Will Tanner pounced as soon as the two men came back into the room.

"Well?" he demanded. Chris rose from beside the couch and stood next to Tanner, waiting expectantly for the answer.

"Nathan and I have agreed to operate as soon as possible, but I must advise you of the risks involved." Owen glanced at each man in turn. Richardson gave Nathan a grateful nod and smiled at his brother-in-law in relief but it was Chris who brushed aside his warning; any chance was preferable to no chance.

"I don't care. You gotta do it now!"

"I don't think - " Owen was interupted as Nathan dropped a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward.

"Chris - it's not your decision." The healer's voice was quiet and measured and he steeled himself as the hazel eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Wha'd'you mean?"

There was no mistaking the menace in the softly spoken words as the gunslinger took a step forward and Nathan glanced quickly beyond him to the tall Texan, seeing the look of satisfaction on his face. The healer threw another glance at Chris and licked his lips nervously. He had never been afraid of the taciturn gunslinger - until now. Before he could say anything else Tanner was there, a grim smile on his face.

"It's my decision! Vin's my son!"

There was a stunned silence and Nathan regarded the gunslinger warily waiting for the explosion. To his surprise Chris started to laugh, and Tanner's face darkened with fury as he realised he was being ridiculed.

"This has to be some kind of sick joke, right?" Chris was still grinning as he looked at Nathan but the smile quickly faded when he saw the healer's sombre expression. "Nathan?"

"I dunno, Chris. He could be telling the truth." There was nothing else Nathan could say. As he studied the older Texan closely he could now see the similarity in the shape of the jaw and in the colour of their eyes and he grudgingly had to admit to himself that he bore some family resemblance to Vin.

"I dunno what ya find so God-damned funny, Larabee. It's the truth." Tanner did not like being laughed at but he held his temper in check.

"Why? 'Cos you say so?" Chris was almost calling the man a liar and Nathan tensed, ready to intervene if necessary. "You ain't fit to lick his boots!"

Ben Richardson saw the flush that crept into the Texan's cheeks, saw the way his hands clenched into fists, and he knew someone had to put a stop to the verbal sparring before it went beyond that.

"Gentlemen - please! This is neither the time nor the place." His words were totally ignored as the Americans continued to face each other angrily and he stepped forward pushing himself in front of Tanner. "Will, your first concern should be for you son."

The Texan blinked as he considered the other man's words, and then he took a step back glancing across at the sleeping tracker.

"Yer right," he agreed. "This is stupid. All we're doin' is wasting time, and time is summat m'boy ain't got!"

Chris felt himself bristle at the older man's proprietary comment but he saw Nathan's warning glare and he had to admit that Richardson was right. No matter how he felt about Grainger Vin's welfare was their first priority. As he turned away in disgust the brooding, hard-eyed look he gave the Texan said more than words ever could.

This ain't finished.

James Owen could see that it would be best to keep Chris and Tanner apart until they had calmed down and he could see a way of doing it. Placing a hand on the Texan's shoulder he put his plan into motion.

"Will, you look exhausted. You've made two long rides today and not stopped to eat. Why don't you go through to the kitchen and get Mrs Roberts to make you something?" In all honesty the Texan did look worn out, the strain beginning to show on his face.

"But I gotta stay with Vin," he protested.

Owen's courage was on the ascendant and he faced the Texan without flinching. "Chris and Nathan can stay with him for a while. I understand your concern but you'll be no good to your son if you make yourself ill."

"Come on, Will, I'll join you. I could do with a cup of coffee." Richardson was glad to see his brother-in-law finally taking control of the situation and he appreciated his efforts in keeping the two angry men at a distance. Tanner was not happy but he could see the sense behind the doctor's suggestion. As he reluctantly followed Ben from the room, the Texan threw a resentful glare in Chris Larabee's direction but the gunslinger ignored it. He was a past master of the deadly look, and it did not faze him one little bit.

As Tanner and Richardson left Chris slipped back into the chair beside the couch, James Owen's words tumbling around in his mind, but he was only half concentrating on them. He was still seething with fury over Will Grainger’s preposterous claim and although he had followed his first instinct and laughed in the man’s face, the situation was far from funny. If Vin had not been so ill Chris would probably have beaten Grainger senseless. The gunslinger shook himself and took a deep breath, wondering yet again whether his overwhelming concern for Vin was clouding his judgement. He looked down at the tracker’s pallid face and his sense of helplessness was like a physical ache. Even though the doctor had agreed to carry out the operation he knew there was no guarantee of success,

"Stay with me, Vin," he breathed softly placing his hand over the young Texan's fingers. "I ain't ready to go on alone again."

Across the room James and Nathan were quietly discussing the practicalities of the next stage of the operation.

"I think the ideal place to do this is the kitchen," the Englishman suggested. "There's ample room and a plentiful supply of hot water." The healer nodded in agreement as Owen continued. "I'll go and get things organised. Perhaps you can explain to Vin what we're about to do. I think it would be better coming from you." As the doctor turned to leave Nathan grabbed hold of his arm.

"What're ya gonna use to put 'im under, James?"

"Well I had intended to use chloroform. Will that be a problem?."

“Nope, that's fine. I've used it on Vin before an' I know he ain't gonna have a bad reaction to it."

“I generally find it works well, Nathan, and I have an inhaler to administer it with.” The healer had heard of such pieces of equipment and had even seen a drawing of one in a book and he would be interested in discovering how it worked.

As Owen headed for the kitchen Nathan turned and looked at Chris. The gunslinger was still sitting silently beside his friend his shoulders slumped in dejection, and he jumped as the healer touched him lightly.

"Hey, Chris - y'alright?"

"This operation... " he began looking up. "It will work, won't it?"

This was the first time Chris had voiced his fears and Nathan could see the anxiety in the hazel eyes. The gunslinger knew it was a complicated procedure, one which - as far as he was aware - Nathan had never attempted before, and he was seeking reassurance for his own peace of mind. The healer hesitated before he replied.

"I ain't about to lie t'ya, Chris. It ain't gonna be easy but I promise ya we'll do iur best."

Before he could question Nathan further Vin stirred again, blue eyes opening slowly as the tracker caught the sound of another familiar voice. The morphine was beginning to wear off now and although the pain was increasing accordingly, it also meant that he was a little more aware to what was happening around him.

"Chris?" Vin sounded confused, not sure whether he had imagined the gunslinger's presence earlier.

"I'm still here, pard," Chris assured him. "Nathan, too."

The healer gave him a quick grin as he perched on the edge of the couch, sensitive fingers curling about the Texan's wrist as he checked his pulse once again.

"I know ya hurtin' real bad, Vin, but James and I are gonna do somethin' about it." He saw the slight frown on the tracker's face as he continued. "Y'ain't gotta worry none. Ya'll sleep right through it." Nathan was not sure if Vin had understood what he had just said but he thought it best not to go into any more details for fear of alarming him. "Ya jus' try an' get some rest. It'll all be over soon."

Nathan climbed to his feet and wandered over to James Owen's desk seeing the open notebook on it, and he picked it up and started to read.

Looking at Vin's drawn face Chris could almost taste the tracker's anxiety; he knew it was a mirror image of his own feelings and as much as he tried to reassure Vin his overwhelming fear was that the operation would not go according to plan. However, he forced his concern into hiding behind a faint smile.

"I know you're scared, Vin, but you gotta trust Nathan. I do." There was a moments silence but the sincerity in the gunslinger's comment was like a soothing balm to Vin, and he gave a tight nod as he forced himself to relax.

The gunslinger watched as Vin's eyes closed and his breathing deepened. In the background he could hear the faint rustle of paper as Nathan leafed through Owen's notes, but his own thoughts were centred on the difficult operation ahead. Chris was convinced that Vin had fallen asleep so it came as a surprise when the tracker spoke.

"Chris?" The older man leaned forward as his friend regarded him awkwardly. "I need - "

"What d'you need?" Chris' face was serious as he placed a hand on Vin's bare shoulder. "Just tell me."

"I need to... pee." A slight flush crept into the tracker's cheeks as he made the request and Chris stared at him in amazement. Of all the things he had been expecting this was just about the furthest from his mind and he laughed with sudden relief. Nathan looked up and frowned at the sound of the gunslinger's mirth but before he could ask what had caused it Chris got up and came across to him, and whispered in his ear.

"He does?" The healer glanced over at the embarrassed tracker but in fact he was quite pleased. He had read in one of his books that it was preferable to perform abdominal surgery after the patient's bladder had been emptied. Vin was about to solve this problem for them naturally. "I'll see what I can find."

Nathan looked around the room until he spotted a row of assorted specimen jars on a shelf beneath the bench. Picking up one he deemed suitable the healer crossed back to the bed, a vague hint of amusement on his face.

"What's that fer?" Vin eyed the object suspiciously.

"Waal, ya don't think yer getting outta bed, d'ya?"

"I ain't gonna piss in no bottle!" The Texan was mortified, embarrassment lending strength to his statement, and his cheeks turned crimson.

"Sorry, Vin, ya ain't got a choice." Nathan turned to the gunslinger. "Chris, can ya help him sit up a bit? It'll make it easier fer him." As Chris slid an arm under Vin's shoulder and carefully eased him up, he could not resist making some comment.

"I bet none of the others have ever done it like this," he said as Vin slipped the bottle beneath the blanket.

"Fuck you, Larabee!" the tracker hissed and then gave a grunt of pain as an incautious move aggravated the throbbing in his side.

"Vin?" There was concern in Nathan's voice as the colour drained from the Texan's face.

"I'm done," he said with a faint groan and the healer discreetly retrieved the jar allowing Chris to settle Vin back against the pillow. The smile was gone from the gunslinger's face now when he saw how exhausted his friend was and the lines of pain were etched even deeper about his mouth. He waited until Vin had dropped into an uneasy doze and then he joined Nathan by the window just as James Owen returned, Will Tanner right on his heels.

The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed as Chris glared at the tall Texan contemptuously, and tension almost crackled in the air. The Englishman felt as though he was standing between a rock and a hard place; one wrong step would see him crushed like so much tinder. However, neither man showed any sign of resuming their ealier hostilities and the doctor threw a cursory glance at the dozing tracker before speaking to Nathan.

"I'm nearly ready. I just need a few more things."

Opening the cupboard behind his desk Owen took out a leather carrying case and a large brown bottle, placing both on the bench. Nathan recognised the bottle of chloroform immediately but he stepped forward curiously as James opened the case.

"A Junker's inhaler!" he exclaimed enthusiastically as Owen removed a slim glass bottle with rubber tubing attached to either side of an unusual looking stopper. One tube was connected to a large, flexible face-mask, while the other ended in a pair of bulbuous rubber bellows. "I never thought I'd see one of these being used."

While the two men prepared the equipment Tanner had stalked across to the couch and sat down on the edge. Chris' lips drew together in a tight thin line as the older Texan reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair back from Vin's forehead.

"Vin? Can ya hear me, son?"

"Why don't you just let him be?" The gunslinger's words were as cold as ice but Tanner ignored him. Nathan glanced round, aware that the situation was likely to get volatile again if it was not stopped quickly.

"Chris, can ya give me a hand taking these to the kitchen?" The healer handed him Owen's medical bag and a large bound book before he had a chance to protest. Carefully picking up the inhaler, Nathan preceded the gunslinger out.

While they were gone Owen made a final check on Vin watched by the anxious Tanner. Then the doctor began to tuck the blanket firmly around the tracker's body, his voice calm as he explained to the drowsy Texan what was about to happen.

Vin had reached the point where he did not care any more. He had been in pain all day, his strength just about gone, and despite his fear all he wanted was for the whole thing to be over. Owen's words simply washed over his head and he did not even know that Chris and Nathan had left and come back, accompanied by Ben Richardson.

"I think it'd be best if we move him on this," Owen suggested, indicating the heavy throw that covered the couch and Nathan nodded, knowing it would be easier and less painful for Vin. "Chris, can you go and make sure the kitchen door stays wide open?" As the gunslinger left the Englishman turned to Tanner. "Can you hold this door, Will?" Picking up the last of his instruments James went through to the kitchen.

Nathan moved to the top end of the couch and took a firm grip on the corners of the throw while Ben Richardson did the same at the bottom. The healer leaned forward and looked down at Vin.

"This might hurt a bit," he warned apologetically. "But we'll be as quick as we can. Ya 'bout ready, Ben?"

The other man nodded and they lifted Vin smoothly, easily taking the weight of the tracker between them. Vin grimaced despite their careful handling and drew a sharp breath, but otherwise he remained silent. Nathan backed along the corridor, mindful of every step and as he entered the brightly lit kitchen he glanced briefly at Chris standing by the door, hazel eyes fixed on the pain-racked form of the tracker. Looking beyond Ben's shoulder the healer could see Tanner just a step or two behind him, and then he cursed silently as he saw Chris bar the Texan's way. However, he had no time to worry about them; Vin needed his full attention.

Before she had left to fetch the clean sheets for James Owen's bed, Annie Roberts had been busy helping the doctor transform the kitchen into a makeshift operating theatre. The large wooden table had been thoroughly scrubbed and completely draped in clean white sheets that hung almost to the floor all around, and a flat pillow lay beneath the sheet at one end. The Junker's inhaler and Owen's medical kit were laid out on a smaller cloth covered table which would be moved into place when they were ready to begin.

Nathan and Ben lowered Vin onto the table as gently as they could, but the tracker gave a soft groan as he felt the unyielding surface beneath him. James reached forward and turned Vin onto his left side, holding him there as Nathan rolled up the throw that was beneath him. The two men repeated the process from the other side until the heavy covering had been removed.

"Easy, Vin," Nathan soothed as he eased the tracker onto his back once more and took the blanket from around him. "I'm just gonna clean ya up a bit before we start an' then it'll be over an' yer'll feel a whole heap better."

As he removed the cloth from the basin of warm water that Richardson held, the healer threw a quick glance at the kitchen door but it had swung shut, blocking any view of what might be occuring outside. Nathan could only hope that Chris would not do anything foolish.

Much as he wanted to stay with Vin, Chris was not going to allow the other Texan anywhere near him. As the older man reached the doorway Chris moved across, stretching out his arm and preventing him from going any further.

"Get outta my way!" Tanner growled, grabbing at the black-sleeved arm but the gunslinger gave him a push that sent him staggering back a few paces, stepping forward himself so the door closed behind him. He was not even going to give the man the briefest glimpse into the kitchen. Where Vin was concerned Chris could be very uncompromising.

"Y'ain't goin' nowhere 'til I get the truth outta you!" Chris retorted, his tone blistering enough to sear the hide from a grizzly bear as he stood his ground. "Why the hell did you come out with that bullshit in front of everyone! What's your game, Grainger? What lies've you been feeding Vin?"

Tanner visibly shook himself and gave a half-smile of resignation, willing himself to remain calm in the face of the gunslinger's seemingly unreasonable and unwarranted provocation.

"The name's Tanner and it's the truth," he stated at length. "Didn't ya ask th'boy?"

"You leave Vin outta this!" Chris snapped, failing to see the incongruity of that comment. This whole altercation had come about solely because of Vin. "He's in no state to know what's right or wrong."

"At least we agree on summat."

"I ain't agreein' with anything you say!" Chris was adamant in his belief that the man was no good, and he took a step forward.

"I ain't about to fight wit' ya, Larabee. Not while my boy's lying sick in that room." Tanner pointed towards the kitchen to emphasise his point, and Chris hesitated momentarily as the Texan pressed home his advantage. "What is it ya don't like about me? I thought ya were his friend? Y'all just confusin' things."

Chris could feel the anger building inside him at the Texan's gall. How dare he accuse him of clouding the situation? He was the one misleading Vin. The gunslinger did not trust the man's motives any more than he understood his own adverse reaction to him.

"Confusing? Don't you think - " Chris never had the chance to finish what he was about to say. Nathan's frantic yell stopped him in mid-sentence and both men froze. Then the gunslinger was moving, spinning on his heel as Nathan's voice called out again.

They were finally ready to proceed and James Owen was amazed how calm he was, all trace of his earlier nervousness having vanished as he concentrated on the complex undertaking ahead. His years of training and finely honed instincts took over as he nodded for Ben Richardson to move the instrument table forward, close enough for him to reach everything but out of Vin Tanner's direct line of sight.

A slight frown creased his brow as he studied the tracker. Vin had lain silent and completely passive as Nathan had carefully washed around his abdomen and groin area, barely opening his eyes as Owen placed a clean sheet over him, leaving just the right hand side of his stomach exposed, but he was beginning to get a little worried. He could see the way the Texan's hands clenched and unclenched, and hear the change as his breathing grew harsher. Looking up he found Nathan watching him and he could see his own worry reflected in the healer's dark eyes. Reaching out he touched Vin lightly on the forearm, startling the tracker back to awareness.

"Vin, I'm going to give you something to make you sleep. It won't be very pleasant, but when you wake up the pain will be gone and you'll feel much better. Do you understand?"

Vin tried to swallow past the lump in his throat but his mouth was dry with fear and he could not seem to take a steadying breath. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest and every muscle was rigid with tension as he gave the briefest of nods. Turning his head a fraction he could see Nathan standing to his left and his friend gave him a reassuring smile, aware of how scared he was.

"Now, I'm going to place the mask over your face," Owen went on. "All you have to do is breathe normally, and you'll feel yourself drifting off to sleep." Glancing across at the healer Owen picked up the mask and turned it into the correct position. Nathan's fingers closed about Vin's left wrist ready to monitor his pulse as the Englishman started to lower the face-piece of the inhaler over the tracker's nose and mouth. He saw the Texan's eyes widen in sudden fear and instinctively knew what was going to happen next but he was unable to prevent it.

Vin's breathing quickened dramatically as the unfamiliar object loomed large in his vision and his right arm shot up, knocking the mask from Owen's hand. The Englishman made a wild grab as the inhaler wobbled precariously, leaving Nathan to deal with the panic-stricken patient. The healer caught hold of his friend's right wrist now, forcing his arms down against his heaving chest to stop him lashing out, but he was finding it difficult to hold onto the aggitated young Texan.

"Easy, Vin. Just calm down - yer gonna hurt yerself!" Nathan could feel the tracker's pulse racing as he tried to keep him still and his breathing became increasingly ragged and erratic.

"No. No... Chris!"

The three words were almost a moan as they tumbled from Vin's lips. He did not even hear Nathan's voice through the red mists of panic that flooded his mind; he could only feel the vice-like grip that encircled his wrists and held him down. Owen glanced frantically at the healer as Vin continued to struggle.

"Do something, Nathan! He's likely to have a seizure!"

The healer did not hesitate. He yelled for Chris.

Chris Larabee burst through the kitchen door with fear snapping at his heels. He had heard the strain in Nathan's voice and his stomach gave a queasy roll as he considered all the possible reasons for the healer's frantic cry.

"What the... ? Nathan, what's happened?" All he could see was Nathan hunched over the squirming tracker as he lay on the table and he could hear Vin's panicked gasps as he fought against the healer.

"Ya gotta try an' calm him! It's the inhaler. I should've realised... "

"Realised what?" Owen demanded as the healer paused.

"It's that contraption yer tryin' t'stick over his face! He's scared o' being shut in," Tanner explained. He had been right behind Chris when he entered the kitchen and now both Nathan and the gunslinger stared at the Texan in disbelief. "Always has been. Ever since he was a kid." The man stepped forward, his troubled gaze on Vin. "Let me talk to him. I'll - "

"You stay the hell away from him!"

Chris' eyes were like flint as he glared at the older man but he did not allow his antipathy to distract him from the distressed tracker. Nathan glanced over at Owen and shook his head quickly; the healer knew that Vin would not react to anybody but Chris at this precise moment, and Ben Richardson placed a restraining hand on Tanner's shoulder.

"Let it be, Will. Nathan knows what he's doing." The Texan shrugged off the hand and moved back with ill-concealed reluctance, angry that Richardson should side with the gunslinger.

"Hey, Vin."

Nathan stepped aside as the gunslinger came to stand next to him, placing a hand on Vin's shoulder. Chris' words were softly spoken but the effect was immediate. Vin stopped his desperate struggles and his eyes flickered open as he responded to the man's voice.

"Chris?"

"I'm right here, pard. I ain't goin' nowhere." The relief in Vin's eyes was plain to see, but his next comment gave a clearer indication of how distraught he was.

"Don't make me sleep!" It was a plea from the heart and the Texan reached out for his friend. Chris could see how fearful the tracker was, but he also knew that there was no other choice. He placed his left hand over Vin's, his fingers interlacing with the Texan's as he tried to convey his concern and the unspoken message in the frantic blue gaze was obvious.

Get me outta here, cowboy.

"You gotta let 'em do it, Vin. It's the only way." Chris could almost taste the younger man's fear and it was as though he could read his very thoughts. Vin was scared that if he allowed himself to be put to sleep he would never wake up.

"I can't." Vin stared up at Chris as he made the whispered admission; he knew the gunslinger was right but it did not alleviate his terror. Chris could feel Vin's grip tightening around his fingers and he looked to Nathan for support. The healer glanced at the inhaler and then regarded Chris solemnly.

"I think yer gonna have to do it," he said softly so only the gunslinger could hear and Chris' lips tightened as he acknowledged what the healer was asking him to do.

"Vin - look at me!" He waited until the tracker's attention was focussed on him. "You trust me, don't you?"

"Ya gotta ask?" There was no hesitation in Vin's reply.

"Haven't we always watched out for each other? Trust me now with this."

Vin ran the tip of his tongue around dry lips as he realised what the gunslinger was suggesting and he gave an almost imperceptible nod, knowing that he had no choice. He could not recall how many times he had trusted his life to this man and now he was ready to offer that same unswerving faith as Chris lead him into a terrifying unknown.

Without looking up Chris wordlesssly held his hand out to Owen, unwilling to break eye contact with the trusting Texan. As he grasped the unfamiliar mask, the Englishman's hand covering his own as he guided it into place, he felt the tracker stiffen.

"Just breathe slowly," he urged, wincing as Vin's fingers tightened reflexively about his own. "It's gonna be okay."

Owen shook his head in amazement as he saw the transformation in Vin, wondering how this dangerous gunslinger could have wrought such a calming influence in the space of a few short minutes.

"Chris - are you ready?" His hands were poised around the double bellows, prepared to start the rythmic pumping that would force the gas and air mix down the tube and through the mask. However, he would do nothing until Chris gave the word.

"Yeah. Just go ahead," he replied without looking away from the tracker.

Vin heard Owen ask the question and he instinctively tensed as the first sweet whiff of the chloroform burned in his nostrils. He held his breath for a moment, unwilling to capitulate immediately even though his heightened senses brought the pain in his side into sharp focus. He gasped as the agony flared in his stomach but then he realised the gunslinger's hazel gaze had not wavered, and the grip on his hand gave him the courage to let go.

"That's it, Vin. Just breathe. Breathe."

The gunslinger's voice held a soporific quality and Vin held the eye contact as long as he possibly could, breathing slowly and evenly as Chris coaxed him along. The last vestiges of panic faded as his senses started to wander, his limbs becoming heavy and leaden as the chloroform wrapped him in its narcotic embrace. The last thing he saw as sleep claimed him was the face of Chris Larabee looking down at him and he tried to smile, safe and secure in the knowledge that he would not be alone.

Chris found himself breathing in unison with the tracker as he slowly succumbed to the anaesthetic, eyelids flickering as he tried to fight the drug seeping into him. Then Vin’s blue eyes clouded over and closed, his head lolling slightly to one side as the chloroform took its full effect. The gunslinger was aware of Nathan leaning forward and placing his stethoscope over the tracker's heart, but he did not look up until Vin's eyes were tightly shut and the young Texan's hand had gone limp beneath his own.

"I think that's enough, James," the healer said. "His heartbeat's slowed right down, but he's breathing fine."

Chris started as Owen reached across and gently removed the mask from his fingers, and he stared down at his friend's peaceful face for a long moment, convinced that Vin's lips were curved in a slight smile.

"Chris." James' hand dropped onto his shoulder. "It's time we got started, and I think it would be best if you and Will left."

Chris had been so caught up with Vin that he had almost forgotten the other Texan's presence, and he glared across at him as the doctor's words reminded him. To his surprise, he saw that the older man was already starting to leave along with Ben Richardson, but Chris hesitated. His gaze dropped to Vin's relaxed features once more and then he shot a quick look at the healer.

"Nathan?" The question was unmistakable. I'll leave - but only if you tell me.

"Go. He'll be okay. I'll be here with him the whole time." Nathan hoped that Owen would not take offence at Chris' implied lack of faith, but he need not have worried. The Englishman was beginning to see another side of the gunslinger now, and his respect for the man had increased.

Chris moved away from the table, slowly relinquishing his hold on Vin's hand, but then he stopped as James Owen cursed softly. The man had one of his leather bound books open on the table beside the inhaler, pressing down firmly as he tried to stop the pages turning.

'What's wrong?" Nathan knew why the doctor had the medical journal in the kitchen; there was a very specific description of an appendectomy in the volume, complete with detailed drawings about the exact size and placement of the incision.

"I can't get the damn pages to stay open," he snapped with an irritated sigh. "I need something to hold them down."

Chris turned and regarded the younger man with hooded eyes. Then he drew his Colt, the weapon pinwheeling on his forefinger before he passed it, butt forward, to the disconcerted Englishman.

"Here. Maybe this'll help." As Owen reached forward to take it Chris held his grip on it a little longer than was necessary. "I know Nathan thinks very highly of you, but Vin's my friend. I just hope that his faith's justified." There was no menace in the gunslinger's voice. It was just a calm, simple statement of fact. As he released the gun and turned to leave, Nathan caught a glimpse of Chris' strained features.

"Chris, why don't ya see if ya can find a drink? Ya look like ya need one right now."

Nathan's insistent urging penetrated Chris' whirling thoughts and he nodded mutely, his face an unreadable mask. Resting his hand lightly on the tracker's tousled head he bent down, putting his mouth close to the sleeping man's ear as he murmured a few words to his friend.

"Hey Vin, I know you can't hear me but I'll be waiting just outside this door 'til you wake up, so don't you dare quit on me! I ain't about to lose you. Not now - not ever!" He stood silently for a moment regarding the tracker, painfully aware that if things went badly wrong this might be the last time he saw his friend alive. Straightening up again, Chris gave Nathan a grim look. His private and personal message to the younger man still echoed through his mind, and he drew a small measure of comfort from the words as he left the room, not trusting himself to say any more,

Owen turned Chris' Colt over and laid it across the pages of the book, the weight more than sufficient to prevent them from turning. As he stared down at the two items the subtle imagery was not lost on him. The book contained knowledge to help save lives, while the Colt could dispense death faster than a heartbeat. He wondered which was the more powerful tool.

"Chris seems a touch overprotective," Owen pointed out as he scrubbed his hands thoroughly.

"He is when it comes to Vin," Nathan replied. "But don't let him worry ya."

That was easier said than done, and Owen felt a shiver run down his spine as he took a final look at the gun. Then he ignored it. Moving the instrument table down almost level with the sleeping tracker's waist he picked up an alcohol soaked cloth, and swabbed the area across Vin's stomach and groin, paying particular attention to his right side. Tossing the cloth back into a bowl he selected a thin bladed scalpel from amongst the instruments.

"Are you ready, Nathan?"

The healer gave him a confident nod as he moved his stethoscope into place. Part of Nathan's job would be to keep the wound clear of blood during the surgery, but his main task would be to monitor Vin's vital signs, making certain that the tracker remained completely unconscious and did not become unduly distressed.

Taking a steadying breath Owen held the blade poised over the Texan's tanned skin and then he pressed down firmly, blood welling from the wound as he made the incision. Nathan was relieved to detect no change in Vin's heart-rate as the razor sharp steel cut easily though unresisting flesh and muscle, and he glanced up quickly at the clock on the dresser. Five-fifteen. James Owen expected the procedure to take no more than an hour, providing there were no complications. It would be the longest sixty minutes of the healer's life, and he knew that to Chris Larabee waiting anxiously outside it would seem like an eternity.

Part Three

Chris Larabee stood outside the kitchen for a moment staring anxiously at the closed door almost as though he could see through the wooden panels. Never had he felt so helpless than at this very moment. The gunslinger was a man who did not wear patience well, but in this matter he had no choice. He trusted Nathan implicitely and he knew that the healer would do his utmost to ensure that Vin came through this delicate operation successfully, but he knew next to nothing about Owen's abilities and the lingering doubts remained.

Chris would probably have waited outside the door for the duration if Ben Richardson had not appeared further down the hallway, a bottle in one hand and three glasses in the other. As he approached the gunslinger he held up the bottle.

"Care to join me, Chris? I think we could do with this."

Chris hesitated, his promise to Vin holding him immobile for a moment, but he knew it would be a while before Nathan and James finished the operation. He would be back before then. Accepting the Englishman's invitation with a brief nod the gunslinger followed him back into the doctor's study.

The heavy curtains were still open, but now a welcoming fire glowed brightly in the hearth, its occasional cracks and hisses the only sounds to be heard. The sun was hanging just above the horizon and the silence within the virtually empty house corresponded with the equally peaceful hush from the deserted yard outside.

"Sit down," Ben said, pouring a generous measure of the liquor and handing it to Chris. "You look tired." He had expected Will Tanner to be here as well; when they had left the kitchen the Texan had made it quite plain that he was going to wait in James' room but he had clearly changed his mind.

Swallowing half his drink in one gulp the gunslinger crossed to one of the high backed easy chairs beside the fire and sat down, stretching out his long legs as he waited for Nathan to call him. Resting his head back he rolled the cold glass over his forehead, only now becoming aware of the pounding tension headache behind his eyes, and for a while at least he tried to relax.

"I know you're worried," Ben went on picking up his own drink and dropping into the seat opposite. "But James will do everything he can. He qualified with the highest marks of his year." It did not seem like much comfort to offer the concerned gunslinger but there was little else Richardson could say without sounding trite. The Englishman kept well clear of the subject of Will being Vin's father; he knew Chris did not believe it at all, and until Vin could confirm it all any of them had was the Texan's own word.

The gunslinger remained silent. Whilst he could appreciate Ben's attempts to reassure him, he would rather be left alone with his thoughts. The sound of a burning log spitting and shifting in the grate made Chris jump and he watched in fascination as the swirling cinders of burning wood were sucked up the chimney flue. Closing his eyes his mind turned over the startling events of the day, and he cursed the delay that stopped him from accompanying the tracker on the survey. He knew that his presence alone would not have prevented Vin from becoming ill, but at least he would have been with him.

Richardson took another thoughtful sip of his drink and set the glass down before pushing himself to his feet. It was obvious that Chris was in no mood for company but the Englishman was not offended. Even in the short time he had known them the strong bond of friendship between the gunslinger and Vin was very evident and he could sympathise with the other's pain.

"I won't be a minute, Chris. I just need to speak to Mrs Roberts about the arrangements for tonight. The poor woman's quite concerned about where everyone's going to sleep."

Chris opened his eyes with a jolt; he had almost forgotten that Ben was in the room and he felt a vague twinge of guilt for his inattention.

"Don't worry about us. I doubt we'll get much sleep until we know - " He stopped, unable to voice his true fears, but Richardson knew what he meant.

"Well, I'll speak to her anyway," he said. As he reached the door Chris shifted in his chair and looked at him.

"Ben?" As the Englishman paused Chris gave him a faint smile. "Thanks," he said softly. Richardson nodded and returned the smile before leaving the room.

A further ten minutes or so passed, and Chris took solace from the fact that he had heard no sound of alarm from the kitchen. He had already been told by Nathan that the operation would probably take at least an hour, so the gunslinger was secure in the knowledge that at the moment there was no problem with the tracker.

Climbing to his feet, the black dressed man placed the empty whisky glass on the desk and went to look out of the window. Chris noticed that the bottom sash was open halfway as the chilly breeze rushed past him, and he was about to close it when a familiar sound drifted along on the wind. Someone outside was playing a haunting tune on a harmonica, and although the instrument could have been played by any one of the men at the ranch, the image that sprang into his mind was that of Vin Tanner sitting around a campfire and blowing a series of haphazard notes.

Chris’ gaze couldn’t help but be drawn to the tracker’s pile of discarded clothing on a chair, and seeing the rumpled buckskin jacket atop the mound he walked over and picked the coat up. With a frown he patted the pockets, fully expecting to find Vin’s battered but treasured mouth organ in one of them, knowing the younger man always carried it wherever he went. The gunslinger’s eyes narrowed in suspicion when he failed to locate the little instrument, and hastily dropping the coat back onto the chair he sped out of the room and along the corridor to the front door.

Striding purposefully out onto the porch Chris saw Will Grainger - he still refused to think of him as Will Tanner - sitting casually on the low wall, the harmonica at his lips. The gunslinger stopped, fully convinced that he was prepared for this situation, but he was wrong. The sight of the Texan seemingly so unconcerned infuriated him.

Tanner let the last note die away as he lowered the harmonica, staring intently at the gunslinger as he exited the house. He was ready for any further round of verbal sparring that Chris Larabee might throw at him, but he was not prepared for the gunslinger's next move. Chris lunged forward and snatched the harmonica from the unsuspecting Texan's fingers, lashing out with his right hand. The vicious backhanded blow snapped the older man's head back and he tumbled over the wall, sprawling on his back in the dirt. Although he landed quite heavily he was more surprised than hurt and he quickly scrambled to his feet, his face showing his annoyance.

"What the hell was that for?" he demanded furiously as Chris stepped off the porch to confront him.

"This is Vin's!" The gunslinger held the harmonica up, almost thrusting it in the other man's face. "What gives you the right to go through his things?"

"My pa gave that to him," Tanner stated with utter conviction, wiping a smear of blood from his top lip. "I reckon that gives me the right!"

"You're a lying bastard!" Chris snarled menacingly, the muscles in his arms straining with pent-up fury.

Although there was a vast disparity in the two protagonists ages, they were comparable in size, strength and temperament; it was nothing short of a miracle that the pair had not either slugged it out in the dirt or faced each other with guns before now. However, the rage that had been building in Chris Larabee throughout the day was about to erupt. His fingers curled into a fist but this time the Texan was ready for him, bringing up his left hand to block the blow. Tanner landed a roundhouse punch to the gunslinger's jaw and Chris measured his length on the ground, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth. As he started to roll onto his knees the Texan kicked out and caught him viciously in the back, giving him no time to recover as he snatched at a handful of dark blond hair and hauled him to his feet.

The gunslinger hissed with pain, letting go of the harmonica as his hands reached up and closed about Tanner's wrist to stop his upward momentum. Yanking down hard on the arm he dragged the Texan forward, but as Will Tanner felt his equilibrium going he released his hold on the gunslinger, placing his hand on the back of the younger man's head and grinding his face along the top of the low wall.

"Just keep yer nose out my family's business, Larabee," he grated, scraping the gunslinger's cheek along the stone until the blood left faint scarlet streaks. Chris drew a deep breath and thrust his elbow back, driving the hard bone into the Texan's stomach. As the older man doubled over with a grunt of pain, Chris twisted and his right hand came up and smashed into his face. Tanner dropped as though he had been pole-axed, blood streaming from his mouth and nose and Chris stood over him breathing hard.

"I don't know who the hell you are but you sure ain't no kin of his!" As the gunslinger stepped contemptuously away the Texan stretched out his leg, hooking his right foot around Chris' ankle and kicking at the back of his knee with the left. Knocked off balance and already falling the younger man flung out his hands to save himself, unaware that his opponent had already scrambled to his feet to follow up the manoeuvre. As Chris hit the ground Tanner brought the heel of his boot down hard on the gunslinger’s outstretched left hand and stomped it into the dust. Chris gave a cry of agony as the crack of breaking bones filtered through his consciousness, and with a gasping hiss of pain he jerked his injured hand away. Cradling the damaged fingers to his chest he rolled sideways, but he was unable to evade the next blow. The gunslinger’s unprotected torso presented the older man with the perfect opportunity and he lashed out with his foot once again, catching him squarely in the ribs with a precise kick.

“I’m bound to that boy, Larabee, more than ya could ever hope to be!" Tanner's words sounded nasally, his nose obviously broken by the gunslinger's earlier punch. "We’re family, tied by blood. If ya had a son of yer own ya’d understand that.”

Chris reacted as though he had been dealt a deathblow, and the Texan’s vicious comment almost negated the painful throbbing that coursed through his upper body and injured hand. The image of his lost child suddenly surfaced in his mind, and with an inarticulate cry of rage he staggered to his feet and hurled himself at Tanner, tumbling both men to the ground again.

“What do you fucking know about family? You abandoned yours!” Chris swung his right fist around as he knealt astride the Texan, rocking the man's head back with a series of blows. Before the gungslinger could land a third punch Tanner's left hand came up, powerful fingers clamping about Chris' wrist to halt the punishment whilst his right hand scrabbled around on the ground. As he tried to pull the younger man off he flung a fistful of dirt straight into the hazel eyes.

"Bastard!" Chris hissed, jerking his arm free as he clawed at his streaming eyes, unable to see anything for a moment. Taking advantage of the other's temporary blindness Tanner brought his knee up and thrust Chris off of him, rolling free himself. As he staggered to his feet he grasped the front of the gunslinger's shirt and dragged him up with him. Flinging his arms about the peacekeeper, Tanner caught him in a bone-crushing bearhug. Chris gave a gasp of pain as the Texan laced his fingers together in the small of his back and started to squeeze. As the pressure increased, driving the air from his lungs, the gunslinger found it hard to draw a breath. In desperation he placed his hand on Tanner's face, forcing the heel against the man's broken nose.

The Texan gave a howl of pain and relinquished his fierce hold as he stumbled back, his hands going to his bleeding face. Drawing a deep breath, Chris brought his knee up viciously into the older man's groin. Tanner gave a choking gasp and dropped to his knees, his hands going to the new point of pain as he doubled over and retched into the dirt. However, Chris had no time to savour the moment; exhausted himself he tottered back a few paces and sat down hard, his head drooping as he gulped air into his tortured lungs. The intensity of the savage fight and the traumatic events of the day were beginning to take their toll, and there was not a single part of him that did not hurt. His ribs ached with every heaving gasp, and the fingers of his left hand were beginning to swell so that he could barely move them.

"I'm gonna... kill ya for... that!" Tanner gritted out painfully, and he started to drag his gun from its holster. Chris had the feeling that it would come to this eventually, but as his own hand dipped towards his gunbelt he suddenly froze, remembering with horror exactly where his Colt was. Cold fear clutched at his heart as he prepared to face death from the enraged Texan.

"That's about what I'd expect from a lying bastard like you!" Chris grated as he spread his hands out palms upward. For the first time Tanner realised that the peacekeeper was unarmed, and sanity re-asserted itself. He would almost certainly face the hangman's rope if he killed him, and even if the extenuating circumstances were taken into account it would destroy everything he had hoped to gain with Vin.

"I don't need to kill ya to take what's rightfully mine!" the Texan spat letting the gun drop back and he lunged forward, knocking the surprised Chris Larabee flat.

Neither man had the strength to do much more than flail wildly at the other causing little further damage, but as they rolled around in the dirt Chris suddenly found that he had the advantage, and he seized the opportunity.

Annie Roberts came down the main stairs with an armful of clean sheets and blankets ready to make up a bed for James Owen on the couch in his office. She had already lit the fire and replaced the linen on the bed in his own room that adjoined it, fully aware that he intended to use it for the young tracker once the operation was over.

As she reached the entrance hall she frowned when she noticed that the front door was open, but as she stepped forward to close it she could hear the faint sounds of commotion from the yard. Curiously the woman walked out onto the porch and she dropped the bedding in shock, her hands flying to her mouth as her horrified gaze took in the vicious scene before her.

Ben Richardson heard Annie scream as he came out of his bedroom and he flung himself down the stairs, almost taking the last two in a single stride. Rushing through the open door the skidded to a halt on the edge of the porch beside the frightened housekeeper, and stared in stunned disbelief.

"Oh my God!" he breathed. When he had left Chris Larabee sitting morosely in James' office nursing a large whiskey, he had thought that the man would remain there until James and Nathan had finished the operation. He did not realise how wrong he was. Will Tanner was lying flat on his back in the dirt with the gunslinger straddling him, and Chris' hands were tightly locked around the other man's throat as he tried to throttle him. "Chris! No!"

The gunslinger was oblivious to the two people on the porch; the blood-red mists of fury engulfed him, driving all sense of reason from his mind. All he wanted to do was squeeze the life from the Texan. Chris never even felt Ben Richardson's hands as the Englishman tried frantically to haul him away.

+ + + + + + +

Buck Wilmington was not one to sit idly by while things were going wrong, and despite Chris Larabee's assurances that everything would be alright he had considered it his bounden duty to follow the gunslinger and Nathan when they left town.

The ladies man could see how worried Chris was when he had dropped by the saloon to tell them what was happening. Buck was aware how dangerous appendicitis could be, and he was very conscious of the fact that Chris would react badly if the worst happened.

He had held his grey to an easy lope the entire way, knowing that he was not going to catch the fast moving trio, but content simply to follow. Dusk was fast approaching as he rode up to the house, but he was unprepared for the sight that met his eyes. In the fading light he could see two men sprawled on the ground, while a third was struggling to drag the two combatants apart.

As he dropped from the back of his gelding he realised that one of the men was Chris and he rushed forward, flinging his arms around his black dressed friend and physically lifting him to his feet as he pulled him away.

"What the hell's going on?" Buck exclaimed, hanging on tightly to the struggling gunslinger. "Ben?" He looked at the Englishman as he leaned over Tanner. The older man was massaging his bruised throat as he sucked air into his lungs.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I heard Annie scream... " Richardson stopped; he did not know what had happened to set the two men brawling in his front yard.

Chris had stopped fighting against the encircling arms, knowing from past experience that Buck was not going to release him until he was ready. Breathing hard, sniffing against the blood that plastered his face, he glared murderously at Tanner as RIchardson helped him to his feet.

"Let me go, Buck," the gunslinger hissed angrily, his whole body tense, and Buck knew that despite the tone of his voice Chris was not about to resume hostilities. The ladies man slowly loosened his grip, watching as his friend stepped forward and bent down, grimacing as he straightened up again and stalked stiffly away to sit carefully on the bench against the wall of the house.

"Will, what's going on?" Buck turned to Tanner as Ben kept a firm grip on the Texan's elbow.

"Ya'd best ask yer friend!" Tanner forced out hoarsely, still rubbing his throat. He was livid now, smarting at the apparently unprovoked attack. Blood trickled from his nose and dripped slowly down his chin, matching the marks on Chris Larabee's face, and Richardson handed him a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding.

"Come on, Will. Let's get you cleaned up." The Englishman led him away, noticing in passing that Annie Roberts had already disappeared, and left the other two Americans alone. Buck shook his head and went across to his horse, fastening the reins to the hitching rail and removing the canteen from the saddle before going back to sit beside Chris, his moustache quivering as he silently handed it to his friend.

Chris took the canteen without a word and then realised he could not undo it one-handed. Clasping it awkwardly to his chest with his left arm, he unscrewed the lid and rinsed his mouth, spitting the bloody residue out.before leaning back and pouring some more water over his face. As he blinked the remaining dirt from his eyes he felt Buck take the canteen from his grasp.

"What did y'do to your hand?" the ladies man asked, seeing the way his friend cradled it protectively against his chest.

"I think it's broke." Chris' voice was strained. As the adrenaline seeped from his body he realised he was hurting and tired and he hunched forward, staring at his swollen fingers.

"Aw hell, Chris!" Taking off his bandana Buck soaked it with water and carefully wrapped it around the gunslinger's hand, trying to ignore the hiss of pain from the other man. "So - are y'gonna tell me what that was all about?"

The taciturn gunslinger glanced sideways at him as he swept his damp hair back from his forehead. He was trying his damndest to calm down, to try and get his simmering rage under control before it consumed him. Reaching into his pocket he drew out the harmonica and stared down at it. Despite his claims - and in Chris' eyes there was no proof - the other Texan had no right to rifle through Vin's belongings. The gunslinger saw it almost as an act of theft, and he felt that he had scored a moral victory by retrieving the object for his friend.

"He had no right to take it."

"Who? What?" Buck was confused by Chris' sotto voce comment. "What's going on, Chris?" The ladies man could see no reason why Chris and Will Grainger were brawling with the very real intent of causing each other serious harm.

"Grainger." The gunslinger almost spat the name out. "He says he's Vin's father."

"What the... ? Vin's father?" Buck was stunned, hardly crediting what Chris had just told him. As far as he and the others knew the tracker had no family left alive. "But I thought he was dead. Hell, Vin's never mentioned him before!" The gunslinger surged to his feet, wincing as he pressed his hand to the small of his back, and turned to face Buck.

"Grainger's a lying bastard!"

Buck regarded his friend, seeing the lines of anger and worry on his face, and then he glanced at the harmonica in his hand.

"How's Vin doing?" he asked suddenly, feeling a little guilty that he had not ventured the question before. Chris sighed and glanced at the front door.

"Nathan and Owen are operating now. We'll know soon enough."

Now the ladies man was beginning to understand why Chris was so tense. Not only was Vin undergoing major surgery, the gunslinger also had to contend with the fact that a man he had disliked and mistrusted from the beginning was now purporting to be his best friend's long lost father. It was almost too much to deal with.

"Does Vin know?"

"How the hell should I know?" Chris' anger was quick to return. "I can't ask him when he's so sick."

"He's gonna be okay, Chris. Hell, he's got two doctors looking after him. You can't ask for more'n that."

"Mebbe." Chris pocketed the harmonica and sank down onto the bench once more, groaning as he jarred bruised and throbbing muscles. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, rubbing his fingers across his brow as the headache started to pound with renewed ferocity.

"So, if he is Vin's pa why has it taken him so long to find him? Where's he been?" Buck tried to steer the conversation away from the desperately ill tracker and satisfy his own curiosity at the same time. The gunslinger opened one eye and gave his friend a scathing look.

"Who the hell cares!" he growled. "He ain't Vin's pa!"

"Well, why's he said he is? What does he want?" Like Chris, Buck was trying to work out the reasons behind the Texan's disclosure. Surely Grainger would not make such a startling revelation without some kind of evidence to back his claim? "Supposing he's telling the truth? If Vin accepts him... " Buck's voice trailed away as he saw the denial etched on the gunslinger's face. This was something Chris did not want to hear, and did not want to think about, and he knew he had found the answer. "That's it. That's what you're afraid of."

"What?" Chris' reply was low and sullen.

"You're afraid he's gonna take Vin away from you." Buck jumped in with both feet. That was something he could understand only too well. It was the same feeling he had had that first day in Four Corners when he had been reunited with his oldest friend only to discover that the young tracker had taken his place at Chris' side, almost like the gunslinger's other half.

"Buck, sometimes you come out with such crap!" Chris gave a harsh laugh, but the ladies man was nearer to the truth than he was willing to admit.

"I've been told that once or twice." Buck smiled as he said it. "Y'know, when you first hooked up with Vin, I was kinda jealous." Chris looked at him in surprise.

"Jealous? What the hell for?"

"I've been asking myself that ever since," the ladies man admitted. He never thought he would be having this conversation with Chris, but now just seemed to be the right time. "I felt like he was taking my place, that all those years of friendship counted for nothing. It was like you'd known him all your life, and yet you'd just met."

The gunslinger just stared at his friend open-mouthed. He had never dreamed that Buck had felt like that, but it went a long way to explain some of the tension that existed between Vin and the ladies man.

"You never told me that." Chris' tone was almost accusing, and Buck shrugged.

"What was the point? Besides, that boy did something I never could. He gave you a purpose in life - and he made you care about people again."

"Maybe that's the whole problem." Chris' voice was bitter as he stared off into the distance, almost talking to himself. He had stopped caring when he had lost his family, and launched himself into a downward spiral of self-destruction. Vin had been the one to drag him back from the brink, then and many times since, and he could not bear the thought of losing another part of his life. "What if he don't make it, Buck?"

"Then would you regret having known him? I know I wouldn't."

There was nothing Chris could say to that and the two men fell silent, lost in their own thoughts as they listened to the faint buzz of insects as the night closed in around them. The gunslinger shivered as his sweat damp clothes dried against his skin, but he was reluctant to move. He knew that Richardson had taken Grainger into the house somewhere, and he had no wish to come face to face with him again. He knew that he would most probably have strangled him if Buck had not come along when he did, and if Vin survived and eventually accepted the man as his father then his feelings towards the older Texan would not change. Rightly or wrongly the sense of distrust and emnity that the gunslinger felt for him would remain, and it would totally destroy his friendship with Vin. Finding himself in a no win situation was not something Chris was comfortable with.

Nathan felt as though he had aged ten years in the last hour and a half, and he was physically and mentally drained. Placing the light dressing over the neatly stitched, four inch long incision, he taped it carefully in place and then pulled a clean sheet up to Vin's chin. Checking his pulse and breathing once more he turned to James Owen. The young doctor was still cleaning and packing away some of his instruments, and he started as Nathan placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Ya did a real fine job there," the healer praised, his voice filled with relief.

"I couldn't have done it without your help," James acknowledged, glancing across at the unconscious tracker. "I think it'd be best to leave him here for a while before we move him into my room. I just want to be certain that everything's fine."

"Alright. I'll go find Chris. He'll want to know Vin's okay."

Nathan washed and dried his hands and then left the kitchen, pausing just outside as he wondered where Chris might be. Knowing the gunslinger he was probably pacing on the porch outside, and as he moved down the hallway he could see that the front door was open and assumed that his guess was right. As he stepped out the healer was only faintly surprised to find Buck sitting beside the gunslinger. He knew that the ladies man had wanted to come with them originally, and he was glad that Chris at least had had some company to share his anxious vigil. Buck glanced at the healer and gave him a nod of acknowledgement as Nathan stopped in front of them.

The gunslinger sat with his head back and his eyes closed, and Nathan frowned when he saw the blood and bruises marking his face.

"Chris?" The other man's eyes snapped open, the anxiety instantly there as he regarded the healer, and Nathan gave him a brief smile. "We're done."

Chris pushed himself stiffly to his feet, grimacing as aching muscles pulled and tensed. "Is he alright?"

"Why don't ya come and see fer yerself." Nathan held back the obvious questions; he did not need to be a mind reader to know that Chris had finally had the threatened run-in with Will Tanner. The healer saw his shoulders sag with relief as he led the two men through to the kitchen.

As they reached the door Buck hung back. It was enough for him to know that Vin was okay but he realised that Chris needed to see for himself, and he was happy to give his black-dressed friend that space.

Chris was not even aware that Buck had remained outside. Nothing mattered to him except the still form of the tracker lying on the table in front of him. However, as he stepped forward he was not prepared for how ill Vin looked. The young Texan's face was as pale as the sheet covering him, his skin almost translucent in the lamplight, and Chris could barely see the imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. His mind was beginning to wonder whether he had misinterpreted Nathan's words, and he clutched at the edge of the table as he felt the room start to spin around him.

Nathan saw the gunslinger sway, saw his face blanch, and he knew that Chris was on the verge of collapse. Dragging a chair forward he thrust the gunslinger down into it, feeling him trembling with reaction as he continued to stare at the unconscious tracker.

"Chris? Ya alright?" The healer crouched down beside him, one hand on his knee as he looked up worriedly into his eyes.

"Dammit, Nathan. You could've warned me." Chris sounded shaken and the healer squeezed his shoulder in sympathy. In all honesty Nathan had not given it a thought; they had been so preoccupied with the intricacies of the operation itself that they had not considered how other people would perceive the end result.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I didn't think." The healer had had his own worries during the course of the procedure. At one point Vin's heart rate had suddenly increased, and it looked as though he had been on the point of waking. Despite their concerns about giving him more chloroform they had had no choice; the last thing they had wanted was Vin coming to prematurely. "He lost a lot more blood than we figgered on. That's why he looks so white, but if we'd waited any longer his appendix would've ruptured and there'd have been no saving him." Nathan eyed the gunslinger's battered face, knowing he wasn't going to accept the next comment with good grace. "You've got Will to thank for that. If he hadn't come when he did we'd probably've lost him."

Chris made no reply. He could understand what Nathan was saying but there was no way this side of Hell freezing over that the gunslinger was going to thank Grainger for anything. With a sigh, he reached out and touched Vin's cheek lightly with his fingers; he had seen more colour on a dead body and he wanted to reassure himself that the Texan was still alive.

"How long before he wakes up?" he wanted to know.

"Reckon it'll be a few hours yet. We're gonna move him to James' room in a while, but you gotta realise, Chris - he ain't gonna be able to travel for three or four weeks at least." The gunslinger stared at him appalled but Nathan was adamant. "This was a very serious operation. He's gotta have time to heal, but James'll be with him."

Chris looked up, and there was pleading in his eyes. "Can't you stay with him?" It was not that he did not believe that the doctor was more than capable of caring for the tracker; it was the thought of leaving him under the same roof as Grainger that really bothered him.

"I can stay for a few days, but then I gotta get back. Ya gotta trust James."

"It ain't James I'm worried about." The gunslinger would not be drawn further and he fixed his attention on the motionless tracker, prepared to wait all night if necessary until he woke up. Nathan saw the determined set to his jaw, and then he glanced down at Chris' left hand which was cradled in his lap.

"Ya gonna let me take a look at that hand now?" he said as he straightened up.

"Leave it. It's alright."

"Chris, I ain't blind. I know ya've been fighting with Tanner, and yer hurting summat fierce. Let me help."

With a resigned shrug Chris held out his left hand, and Nathan carefully unwound the bandana from his fingers. The gunslinger sucked in a sharp breath as Nathan gently touched each finger in turn, and he could feel the sweat trickling down his face.

"Reckon ya've busted these two," the healer said, indicating his third and little finger, so swollen that he could not even bend them. "Ya just wait here. I'll be right back." As he went out of the door Nathan threw a quick glance over his shoulder and gave a little smile, knowing full well that the gunslinger was not going to go anywhere for some time yet.

Once the door had closed behind the healer Chris leaned forward, resting his hand on the sheet that covered the tracker's arm.

"Hey, Vin. I'm still here, pard," he whispered. "Told you I'd be here when you woke up." Despite the fact that Nathan had already told him that Vin would not wake for some hours all Chris wanted to see was the Texan's blue eyes open, and the familiar half-smile touch his lips. Then he would know he was going to be alright. Lying there so still and pale made it hard for Chris to believe that he would make a full recovery.

When Nathan returned James Owen was right behind him and, to Chris' dismay, so was Will Tanner. Neither man looked at the other, but the gunslinger pulled his chair a little closer to the table as the Texan stepped forward and leaned over Vin.

"Hey, boy. The doc says yer gonna be just fine." Tanner rested his hand on Vin's brow and now Chris did look up, eyes hard and unforgiving as he regarded the older man. There was a satisfied smirk on the Texan's face as his gaze met the gunslinger's and Chris tensed, resisting the urge to wipe it from his features. Nathan was well aware of the gunslinger's feelings and he dropped a hand on his shoulder in warning.

"Right, let's have that hand." Chris did not even flinch as the healer carefully straightened the broken fingers and bound them together. The gunslinger remained stoicly silent, but Nathan could see the sweat beading his forehead and feel the tension in his muscles as he suppressed the moan of pain that threatened to fall from his lips. However, when the healer cleaned the cuts and abrasions on his face and then treated them with the stinging iodine from James' cupboard, Chris did protest.

"Jeez, Nathan. Just leave it." He batted his friend's hand away, trying to avoid the gloating look in Tanner's eyes.

"Alright, gentleman." Once again James Owen asserted his authority. "I think that's enough for now. We need to let him rest."

"He's right, Chris. Ya gotta give him some time." Nathan made the comment as Chris remained stubbornly in his seat.

"If you want you can sit with him once we've moved him into my room." James made the offer to both men, but it was Tanner who acknowledged it first.

"Thanks, doc." As the Texan started to leave Owen caught him by the arm.

"Will, I'm sorry I was so hesitant ealier. I just needed to be sure."

"That's okay. At least ya finally saw sense."

Once the Texan had gone, James turned his attention to Chris. Reaching behind him he picked up the gunslinger's Colt and handed it back.

"Thanks for the loan," he said. "It did the job."

Chris stood up and took the weapon, dropping it back into its holster. He knew how much he owed this man and a simple thank you did not seem adequate enough, but that was all he could offer. He held out his hand to the young Englishman.

"I wanna thank you. If you hadn't operated Vin would've died."

"Don't thank me yet," Owen warned. "He's still got a long way to go."

"I know, but you've given him a chance. That's all he needs."

James shook the gunslinger's hand warmly. As he watched Chris leave he felt a certain amount of pride. It had taken the very strong persuasion of a small town healer to make him realise his potential, but he had succeeded against all odds. Now all he needed to ensure that everything was complete was for Vin to make a full recovery.

+ + + + + + +

"Why don't ya sit down an' drink ya coffee?"

James Owen looked up at Nathan and gave a sheepish grin as he realised he was about to check Vin for the fourth time in less than ten minutes.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to be sure that he's alright." The young Englishman dropped into the chair beside Nathan and picked up his almost cold coffee. Once Chris and the others had left the healer had taken it upon himself to make them a much needed pot of coffee, but James had barely touched his as he worried nervously about his patient.

"If anyone can make it its Vin," Nathan assured him. "He's tougher than he looks."

"I hope you're right." James did not sound entirely convinced. "I wouldn't want to face Will or Chris if anything went wrong. They seem to be rather volatile when they get upset."

"You got that right!" Nathan stated emphatically and he gave a slight smile.

"What started them fighting tonight?" the doctor wanted to know. When he had gone in search of Will Tanner just after the operation he had found him in the study with Ben, nursing a broken nose and other cuts and abrasions. It was not until he had seen Chris a few minutes later that he had put two and two together.

"Don't rightly know," the healer admitted. "But its been coming fer a while now. Chris never liked him from the start."

"Why?"

"I don't think Chris knows himself, but knowing he could be Vin's father has jus' made things worse."

James Owen nodded thoughtfully, a frown creasing his forehead. "I have to admit I'm a little wary of him myself." The young doctor paused as he recalled the way Will Tanner had virtually assaulted him when he was deliberating over the best treatment for Vin. Whilst he could understand the feelings of a worried parent, the man's violent reaction seemed to be extreme. "I'm sure he thought I was deliberately refusing to help Vin for some reason. It was as if he believed I didn't know my own job." James remembered the slight tinge of resentment when Tanner had declared his intention of bringing Nathan out to the ranch, but that had soon changed to relief once the healer had arrived and he had had the chance to talk to him. "Maybe he thought I was too young to know what I was doing."

"In a way I can understand that," Nathan admitted, without condoning Tanner's actions. "I've had t'live wit' fear and prjudice all my life. There are still some in Four Corners who resent a black man treating white folk."

Owen could feel a faint flush creeping into his cheeks; he remembered his own surprise when he had first encountered the healer in town, but it had not taken him long to see that Nathan was extremely skilled at what he did and that the colour of his skin was irrelevant.

"So how did you deal with it?" he wanted to know.

"I just did." Nathan shrugged modestly. "I got t'figgerin' that helping folks and saving lives was more important than what they thought about me. I ain't no doctor - I jus' do what I can."

"I'm very grateful that you do, my friend." James smiled, knowing that the older man's calm, steadying presence had sustained him through the delicate operation. There was a short silence and Nathan put his cup down before getting up to do exactly what he had just admonished James Owen for. The Englishman smiled again as the healer laid the back of his hand against Vin's forehead feeling for any increase in temperature. "You all seem to get on so well together. Have you known each other long?" The bond between the peacekeepers was obvious and the doctor was naturally curious.

"Waal, Chris an' Buck have known each for more'n twelve years but the rest of us little more than a year."

"Really? I thought Chris and Vin had known each other the longest." Owen was surprised and Nathan grinned at him.

"Looks that way, don't it? Seems like those two've got some kind o'link. They always seem to know when the other one's in trouble." He looked down at the unconscious tracker, recalling numerous occasions when that had proven correct. "Chris knew summat was wrong with Vin as soon as Will rode into town today."

"It's a bit like Lia and myself. We always knew when something was happening." James laughed softly and looked a little embarrassed. "I'm convinced I felt it when she gave birth to Edward and Emily." Nathan tried to hide his smile as he poured himself another cup of coffee, but then the doctor's next comment brought a frown to his face. "How do you think Will's relationship to Vin is going to affect them now?"

Nathan thought long and hard about James' question. In simple terms he knew that it would not be an easy path - but things were never simple and there was really only one answer he could give.

"I jus' don't know." The healer sighed. "Sometimes Chris can be a very unforgiving man. I just hope it don't tear 'em apart."

Buck had been dozing on and off in the easy chair in James Owen's study for a while, but at the moment he was wide awake. It was fast approaching midnight and the room was getting a little chillier and the ladies man leaned forward to place another log on the dwindling fire. As he straightened up he glanced across at Nathan sound asleep in the chair opposite, and he gave a faint smile. It had been a long day for all of them, and they were snatching sleep where and when they could.

Nathan and the doctor had stayed in the kitchen with Vin for a further hour after the operation to make certain that his breathing and pulse remained stable, and that there was no sign of any internal bleeding before he was moved into Owen's bedroom. That had been done some hours ago, and he still showed no indication of returning consciousness. Give them their due, Chris and Will Tanner had finally agreed on one thing when they had voiced their concerns about the tracker not waking up, and despite the reassurance from Nathan and Owen that this was perfectly normal both battered and exhausted men had refused to move from Vin's bedside.

Buck thought back to the few minutes just after Chris and Tanner had been chased out of the kitchen by James Owen. He had seen how shaken the gunslinger was but he had not fully understood why until he had seen Vin for himself about an hour later when he had helped to move him. The young tracker still looked desperately ill, but what really concerned the ladies man was how Chris would react if Vin accepted Will Tanner as his father. The gunslinger had disliked the man from the very first moment he met him, and now this apparent relationship to Vin seemed to have turned Chris' dislike into hatred. Buck had no idea how it would affect the close bond of friendship that the two men shared, but he had no doubt that there would be bitter consequences somewhere along the way.

Suddenly Buck heard the loud whinny of a horse from outside followed by several squeals of fright and he rose to his feet, crossing to look out of the window. All he could see was the dark outline of a walled garden, and he cursed softly. As he turned and made his way out of the door and up the hallway all hell broke loose outside.

The sound of gunshots startled Nathan out of his slumber and he scrambled to his feet, instantly awake. On the other side of the room he could see James wrestling with the blankets as he struggled off the couch, and then the bedroom door was flung wide open as Chris emerged, his Colt already in his hand.

"Nathan? What the hell's going on? Where's Buck?"

"I dunno," the healer replied as he reached for his gunbelt on the desk and drew the Remington from its holster.

"Shit!" The gunslinger swore loudly as he headed for the door, an equally agitated Tanner close behind him.

"Oh my God, Nathan! What's happening?" James turned a scared face to the healer as gunfire continued to crackle outside, and Nathan waved his weapon in the general direction of the windows.

"Get those shutters closed - " he snapped. " - and stay with Vin!" As Nathan ran out towards the front Ben Richardson came hurtling down the stairs, still trying to shrug a jacket on over his undershirt. "If ya got a gun ya'd best get it," the healer told him. "We got trouble!"

Buck fired several more rounds and then ducked down behind the porch wall again. He had heard more shots coming from the bunkhouse as Richardson's hands made their presence known, but he had seen little sign of the attackers apart from vague shadowy figures.

"Buck? How many?" Chris' voice came from behind the ladies man, and he flinched as a bullet ricocheted wildly off the wall.

"Five or six mebbe. I can't be sure." Buck slumped down, quickly reloading his Colt as the gunslinger appeared at his side. Beyond Chris, Tanner was shooting into the darkness, adding his firepower to that of the hands in the bunkhouse. Nathan and Richardson were the last to emerge from the house, the healer dragging the Englishman down behind the comparative safety of the low wall.

In the corral the Arab mares were milling around in a panic as furtive figures darted amongst them, and Ben became increasingly worried that they were going to be stolen or injured.

"I've got to get to the horses!" he told the healer. "I can't lose them now." As he started to get up a bullet whined off the top of the wall, and Richardson yelped in pain as flying splinters of stone peppered his cheek.

"Keep ya head down!" Nathan ordered, grabbing the back of the man's collar. "Ya'll get yerself killed!"

"But my horses... " the Englishman protested. "They're going to steal them!"

"I'll go." Much to Ben's surprise Tanner made the offer. "Pour it on, Nathan! Keep 'em busy."

Richardson propped his Winchester on the top of the wall and helped the healer lay down some covering fire as the Texan crouched down and made his way along the porch, moving behind Chris and Buck until he reached the end closest to the barn and bunkhouse. He paused for a few moments and then scrambled over and hunched down in the darkness, waiting for the opportunity to make a dash for the bunkhouse.

"Where the hell's he going?" Buck's question came as he saw the figure of Will Tanner race across the space between the main building and the bunkhouse.

"He's trying to get to the barn," Richardson supplied.

"All he's gonna do is get his damn head shot off!"

Chris glanced across the yard; he could just make out the dark shape of the Texan as he flattened himself against the wall of the bunkhouse, and he shook his head in amazement. It was obvious that the man was trying to reach the panic-stricken mares, and the gunslinger could not help thinking that it was exactly the kind of reckless thing that Vin would attempt. No - Chris pushed that notion aside, angry with himself for even thinking it. As far as he was concerned there was simply no comparison between the young tracker and the man claiming to be his father.

"Will!" Richardson's yell of alarm came as Tanner made his final move to get to the barn. The man had barely covered a few yards when he went down with a shary cry of pain.

"Dammit!" Buck swore heatedly. "He's been hit!"

"Shit!" Chris did not hesitate. In the split second before he broke cover the gunslinger knew that he had to put his personal feelings aside. The man had just made a brave attempt to save Richardson's precious live-stock, and he could not leave him lying there. "Cover me!" he yelled. Buck turned to look, but Chris was already gone.

"Aw hell! Chris!" The ladies man loosed off a fusilade of shots as his friend zig-zagged across the open space towards the bunkhouse.

James Owen would be the first to admit that he was scared. He could hear the sound of constant gunfire outside, and he had no way of knowing what was happening, or if anyone was hurt. After closing the heavy wooden shutters in the study, he had rushed into his bedroom and done the same at the window there. Trying to push aside his fears he focussed his attention towards his patient.

Although his colour had improved slightly there had been no other change in Vin since he had been moved from the kitchen, but James checked his pulse and breathing as a matter of course. Laying a hand on the tracker's forehead he was relieved to find it still quite cool to the touch, with thankfully no sign of post-operative fever. Finally he started to pull the blanket down, but he stopped as he noticed the small beaded pouch hanging around the Texan's neck. James frowned in curiosity as he studied the intricate, very obviously Native design, and he wondered who had given it to Vin and when. He was inclined to think that it had been Will Tanner; Owen could not imagine Chris being that superstitious, but wherever it had come from he was not going to remove it. He continued to fold the blanket right down and examined the dressing covering the incision, just to make certain that there had been no leakage. As he pulled the blanket back up to his patient's chin, he paused as a faint moan escaped the tracker's lips.

"Vin?" He placed his hand gently on one shoulder as the Texan moved his head, a slight frown creasing his brow. For a moment James wondered whether he was about to wake up but, much as he would have welcomed any sign of returning consciousness the timing was wrong. Knowing that Vin would be confused and disorientated and more than likely nauseous, Owen would have prefered to have Nathan with him when it happened. However, as he watched and waited a little longer Vin settled back into the drugged sleep once more even the frown disappearing from his forehead, and the young Englishman breathed a sigh of relief. James could tell from the change in his breathing that it would not be very long before Vin started to come to, possibly only a few hours in fact. Hopefully the terrifying attack outside would be over by then.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, he suddenly realised that the sound of gunfire had stopped, and he shivered as an eerie silence settled over the ranch.

Dropping his Colt back into its holster, Chris went down on his knees and elbows and started to crawl towards the fallen Texan. Several bullets kicked up dirt in front of his face as he moved forward and he felt another tug at his shirt sleeve, ripping a gaping hole in the material as it passed through without touching flesh. As he tensed, fully expecting to feel the numbing impact of a bullet hitting him, Chris began to question his sanity. What the fuck was he doing risking his life to save a man he despised? Just as Chris reached him Will glanced up, and the look on his face was incredulous.

"Larabee? What ya doin'?" Tanner had heard somebody trying to reach him, but the gunslinger was the last person he expected to see.

"Where you hit?" Chris ignored the question.

"My damn leg!" the Texan hissed as he tried to push himself forward. As Chris reached out to help drag the man back he gasped as he jarred his left hand, having forgotten about his broken fingers.

"Keep moving!" the gunslinger snapped, taking the Texan's weight with his right hand. As they reached the comparitive safety of the bunkhouse, Chris realised that most of the shooting had stopped. Scrambling to his feet, the gunslinger took out his gun once more and looked across at the corral. He saw several dark shapes starting to move away and then he heard the heavy bark of a rifle and one of the figures staggered and fell. The other was running before Chris could even bring his Colt into line.

"Chris? Y'alright?" Buck called out as he cautiously stood up. He could hear the pounding of hooves as the attackers fled the scene, and now he wanted to make sure his friend was okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine." The gunslinger walked back towards the house, contemplating the hole in his left sleeve.

"What about - ?" Buck stopped, unsure what to call the man in front of Chris.

"Reckon he'll need some attention."

Nathan overheard the gunslinger's casual remark and hurried across to the wounded Texan as Ben Richardson stepped up to Chris, his face white and strained.

"You alright, Ben?" There was concern in the gunslinger's voice as he asked the question. The Richardson family were new to America and unused to this kind of violence. That much was evident from the expression on the Englishman's face as he nodded.

"Why are they doing this to me?" Richardson sounded puzzled. "All I want is a chance to raise horses."

"I dunno, but I aim to find out," Chris promised.

"Do you think they'll be back tonight?"

"I doubt it, but we'll need to take a look around, make sure they've gone."

Richardson's two ranch-hands emerged from the bunkhouse. Jack Chambers still had his broken arm in a sling but it had not stopped him joining in the fight, and he was looking grim as he stopped in front of his boss.

"Jack, can you and Tom get the mares into the barn - just in case."

"Sure thing, Mr Richardson. Anything else?"

"You could saddle up our horses for us." It was Chris who replied, and with a nod from Ben the two men hurried away.

"I'll go saddle mine," the ladies man offered, but Chris shook his head. He was looking past Buck's shoulder to where Nathan was leading the limping Texan back to the porch.

"I'd rather you stayed here with Vin." Chris did not need to explain the reason why. He was torn by his sense of duty as a peacekeeper and the promise he had made to the tracker. He needed to be here when Vin woke up but the safety of the entire household was at stake, and he had to deal with that first.

As the healer and the injured Tanner drew level with him Ben Richardson put his hand out and stopped Nathan, but his gaze was on his foreman.

"How bad is it, Will?"

"It coulda bin a whole heap worse." The Texan looked over at Chris and gave him a nod. "Thanks, Larabee." His tone was slightly grudging, and Chris' eyes were hard as he replied.

"I didn't do it for you." It was true. The gunslinger had just realised why he had done it. If there was even the remotest possibility that this man was related to Vin in some way, then Chris did not want to have his death on his conscience.

"Come on, Will, let's get ya seen to." Nathan started to move away again, but then paused. "Chris, if ya thinkin' about going after them fellers be careful. Me 'n James've already got our hands full."

The gunslinger grinned and turned away as the healer took Tanner into the house, only to find Buck watching him intently.

"What's up with you?" he demanded, and the ladies man gave a sigh.

"Y'know, Chris, sometimes I just don't understand you at all."

"What d'you mean?"

"Waal, a few hours ago you'd have happily throttled that man, and now you nearly got your arse shot off saving his life!"

Chris shrugged. "The man was down. Someone had to do it."

Buck shook his head in amazement. Whether he had known him twelve years or twenty years, Chris could still surprise him. Before he could say anything else the other ranch-hand, Tom Steen, approached leading three horses.

"The mares are safely in the barn, Mr Richardson," he said, holding out the reins of Ben's buckskin. "D'you mind if I tag along with you? I'd like a chance to run those yahoos to ground."

"An extra gun's always handy," the gunslinger acknowledged as Richardson looked to him for guidance. Knowing his limitations the Englishman was more than happy to let Chris take charge. Buck accompanied them as the other three led their horses towards the main gate, and it was he who spotted the body first.

"Looks like we got one of 'em," he said, bending down and turning the body over. The chest was a bloody ruin, and Buck whistled appreciativley. "I'd say you're a pretty fair shot with that rifle, Ben"

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well, no handgun did that, my friend. Not at this distance."

"Oh my God!" Ben turned pale as he realised what Buck was saying. "You mean I killed him?"

"You were defending your home, Ben." Chris dropped a hand on his shoulder, feeling him shaking with reaction. "You did what you had to do. Suppose your wife and children had been here?"

Ben shuddered, feeling physically sick at the concept of taking the life of another human being. With everything that had been happening he had not given that a thought, and he was grateful for the spark of foresight that had made him send Amelia and the others into town the day before yesterday.

"But... I've never killed anybody before."

Buck stood up and cocked his head on one side as he regarded Richardson. "Welcome to the West, Ben," he said softly.

"Alright. Enough talk." Chris swung up onto his black and gathered up the reins. "We won't find anything like this." That was only part of the reason; the gunslinger thought it most likely that the attackers were long gone already, but the sooner they went the sooner they would be back, and that was his main aim. He indicated the body. "Buck - can you take care of that?"

"No problem, Chris. Watch yourselves," he warned as Richardson and Steen mounted their horses and followed Chris Larabee into the darkness.

Satisfied that Vin was not about to stir again, James Owen left the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him, crossing over to his desk and opening the top drawer. His hand was shaking as he reached for the Starr revolver; he was loath to touch the gun even though Ben had insisted he keep it there, but the silence outside was worrying him and he had no choice.

Cautiously pushing open the study door he peered down the hallway. Even the house itself was quiet as he crept along the passage, pausing as a board creaked underfoot. He was almost at the front door when a voice startled him.

"Doctor Owen? Is it all over?"

James turned, his heart thumping, and his shoulders slumped in relief when he saw Charles Roberts standing halfway down the stairs. The butler had a thick, striped dressing gown on over his nightshirt - and a double-barrelled shotgun in his hands.

"I was just going to check. Is everybody alright?"

"Yes, sir. Mrs Roberts is upstairs with the two girls."

"Good. You stay here while I - " Owen never finished the sentence. The front door creaked on its hinges as it swung slowly open and James whirled, gripping the gun in both hands as he held it at arms length.

"Whoa, James, steady on. It's only us." Nathan stood in the doorway supporting the wounded Will Tanner and James let the gun drop, holding it loosely at his side.

"Nathan! Thank God! I thought it might have been somebody else!"

"Well ya look like ya were ready for 'em," the healer said, nodding towards the gun and James gave a nervous laugh as he looked down at the Starr in his hand.

"Ready? It's not even loaded."

Nathan stared at him appalled but now was not the time for recriminations about an empty gun.

"Can ya gimme a hand? Will's been shot."

"Gladly. Let's get him into the study." As he went round to the other side of the Texan he glanced anxiously at Nathan. "What about everybody else? Is Ben okay?"

"Yeah. I think they were gonna check around and see that everything's alright."

"Is there anything else I can do, sir?" Roberts was at the bottom of the stairs now, the shotgun broken open and hanging in the crook of his arm.

"Yes there is. We need some hot water in my study, and I think a pot of coffee would be very welcome."

"Very good, sir. I'll be as quick as I can."

As Nathan and James helped Tanner along the hall and into the study, the Texan spoke for the first time.

"How's m'boy doin', Doc?"

"He's still sleeping, but he's comfortable." James released Tanner's arm as Nathan lowered him onto the couch, swinging his legs up so that Owen could get a better look at the wound. The Englishman carefully cut away the pants leg, staunching the blood with a clean cloth, only briefly glancing up as Roberts entered and put a bowl of hot water on the floor beside him.

"You were lucky, Will. It doesn't look too bad." James carefully washed the blood away, seeing the shallow furrow that scored the outside of the Texan's left thigh. It was messy and painful, but not that serious.

"Well, it hurts summat fierce," Tanner said through gritted teeth.

"I should imagine it does, but I don't think it requires any stitches. What do you say, Nathan?" The young Englishman defered to a man whose experience of gunshot wounds far outweighed his own.

"Reckon yer right," the healer agreed. "Jus' keep it clean and rested for a few days. Ya'll be fine."

As James finished cleaning and bandaging the wound Roberts returned again with a heavy tray which he placed on the desk. Nathan glanced at the coffee pot and the bottle beside it, and he gave the butler a wide grin.

"I took the liberty of fetching the brandy, sir. I thought you could use some."

"Roberts, you're a godsend!" As the butler poured the coffee James opened the bottle and tipped a generous into each cup. "Pour one for yourself. Join us."

"Well, if you're sure... ?"

"It's been an eventful evening." That was an understatement, and James almost laughed aloud as he said it. Handing a cup of the heavily laced coffee to Tanner, Owen took a sip of his own, feeling it warming him as it went down. The strong liquor finally steadied his shaken nerves, but he would not be able to relax completely until Vin was fully awake and his brother-in-law was back safely.

Will Tanner winced as he flexed his injured leg and leaned back in the chair, his expression thoughtful as he regarded the still form of the young tracker. About an hour had elapsed since the end of the attack, and Ben Richardson and Chris Larabee had still not returned from their scouting trip. Not that he was unduly worried; he knew both men were capable of taking care of themselves and he was grateful for the opportunity to have this time alone with Vin. Nathan had been sitting in the corner reading one of James' books for a while, but now the healer had left on some errand or other, leaving Will alone with his thoughts.

He was still having trouble adjusting to the idea that Larabee had actually risked his life to save him, all too aware that he could just as easily have left him there to die. 'I didn't do it for you,' is what the gunslinger had said, and Tanner was trying to work out what he meant. Was Larabee beginning to accept that he was telling the truth? Was he starting to believe that the Texan was who he said he was? Will hoped so for Vin's sake. He did not want to have the gunslinger as an enemy.

He sighed and focussed his attention on Vin once more. He was desperate for him to wake up now, eager for the chance to finally say all the things he wanted to. Reaching out the Texan gently stroked the younger man's hair, a smile on his face. The colour and the waviness reminded him of Elizabeth and Vin's hesitant half-smile and his shyness was hers as well. He knew the tracker's eyes were as blue as his own and he could not help wondering what other family traits they shared. It was hard just to look at him after more than twenty years, and yet be unable to voice his true feelings. Tanner had tried the night Vin became ill and he was dismayed that the young Texan had become so angry; he should have expected that but it meant he had a long way to go before he could gain his trust.

Suddenly Tanner heard a faint moan and he was jolted back to the present as Vin stirred, turning his head against the pillow. His mouth twitched, and he groaned again as his eyelids flickered as he started to surface from his chloroform-induced slumber.

"Vin?" Tanner leaned forward and rested his hand lightly on his chest, under no illusions that the younger man was on the verge of coming to. The tracker murmured something low and unintelligable, his eyes half open now as he moved his head again. "Easy, Vin."

"Chris?" Vin's voice was raspy as he tried to focus on the shape beside him, but his vision was too blurry and he could only make out a vague outline.

"Sorry, son. He's not here." Tanner felt a faint spark of anger at the young man's question. He had been correct in his first assumption that Chris Larabee would be the main stumbling block to his relationship with Vin. "He's already gone back to town." Will knew it was a spiteful comment to make to someone in the tracker's condition, but it was a purely selfish reaction. He was family, and he wanted Vin to turn to him for reassurance during his illness and recuperation and not the gunslinger.

Vin may not have been very awake or aware but Tanner's words registered in his mind, and he could not hide the hurt and disappointment on his face. With a soft sigh he wearily closed his eyes and turned his head away as he drifted back into an exhausted sleep. Tanner watched him for a moment and then sat back in his seat, running his hand through his hair. The days ahead were not going to be easy.

James took another swallow of his coffee as he shifted uncomfortably on the second stair as he waited in the hallway. It seemed to have been a long time since Buck had come back into the house and told him exactly what Chris and Ben were doing, but he did not think it would have taken them this long. Even the ladies man had seemed a bit concerned, wandering out onto the porch several times to look for any sign of their return.

Nathan had told him that there were at least half a dozen men attacking the property, their intention quite malicious. He could not understand why anyone would want to ruin his brother-in-law's ambition, but it appeared that this was the case. Ben was an amiable man with no apparent enemies, but someone was desperate to see him fail.

Suddenly he heard footsteps on the boards outside and he leapt to his feet, almost spilling the remains of his coffee on the floor as the front door opened.

"Ben! Thank God!" Owen stepped forward and placed his cup on the hall table, gripping his brother-in-law's arm anxiously. "I was beginning to get worried!"

"We found another body," Chris said, explaining the delay as Buck emerged from the study.

"Another one? Whereabouts?" The ladies man frowned. As far as he knew only one attacker had died during the attack.

"About half a mile down the trail. Looks like he was killed by one of his own, probably to stop him talking." The gunslinger heard the sharp intake of breath from the young doctor as Chris described the ruthlessness of the attackers.

"Damn!" Buck swore. "I thought I'd hit one."

Both men looked dirty and bone-tired, and for the first time James noticed the streaks of dried blood down Richardson's right cheek.

"Ben, you're hurt!" he exclaimed, frowning in concern as he grasped the older man's chin and turned his face to the light.

"Don't fuss, James. It's just a scratch." Owen pursed his lips at Ben's off-hand attitude as Richardson pushed his hand away.

"At least let me clean it," he stated. "Roberts has left some fresh coffee in the study." As they started to move away Chris put his hand on James' arm, stopping the Englishman.

"How's Vin?" he asked. "Is he awake yet?"

"No, but I don't think it'll be too long."

Chris nodded, feeling a huge sense of relief. His promise to Vin still held - he would be there when the tracker awoke. As they went back into James' room Buck quickly poured two cups of coffee and handed them to Chris and Ben. Owen did his best to clean the blood from his brother-in-law's face whilst Chris wandered over towards the half-open bedroom door. Setting his cup down on the desk, he reached for the handle but then paused as he heard a familiar voice speak his name softly. A smile curved the corners of his mouth as he realised Vin must be awake, but the delight was shortlived.

"Sorry, son. He's not here."

Chris tensed when he heard the Texan speak. He had almost forgotten about Tanner in the heat of the moment, but he should have realised the man would be back with Vin. He was about to push the door open when a final comment made him freeze in his tracks.

"He's already gone back to town."

Chris became aware that his hand was hurting where he was gripping the door handle so tight, and his body trembled with rage. His first instinct was to storm into the room and beat the hell out of the man for lying to Vin, but then sanity prevailed. Chris heard no reply from the tracker and he was not really sure if he was actually awake, but he knew that it might prove dangerous to Vin's health if he confronted the older Texan now. It took a supreme effort of self-control to simply turn around and walk away.

Buck had seen the gunslinger heading towards the bedroom and he wondered whether he should warn him that Will Tanner was already in there, but he thought that Chris might already have guessed that. He watched as the man put his cup down and then paused by the half-open door. The ladies man expected to see him go in; instead he stiffened, his posture that of someone who was listening intently to a conversation. The next thing he knew Chris had turned on his heel his face like thunder as he stalked out, almost knocking Nathan aside as the healer came back into the room..

"Chris? Where you going? Chris?" Buck got no reply, and Nathan followed the ladies man back out into the hallway.

"Buck? What's goin' on?"

Both men jumped as Chris slammed the front door behind him with enough force to rattle the windows.

"I don't know," Buck stated truthfully. "But I sure as hell ain't gonna ask him!"

Chris stood at the edge of the porch, breathing in deep lungfuls of the crisp night air. His hands were clenched tightly at his side as he tried to control the fury that threatened to overwhelm him, and it was only the pain of his broken fingers that cleared his head sufficiently for him to think straight again. If his horse had still been outside saddled and ready, he would have seriously considered mounting up and riding out.

No matter how much he wanted to stay and regardless of the promise he had made to Vin, the gunslinger knew he had to put some distance between himself and the man claiming to be the tracker's father. However, that would have to wait until first light; it really would be foolish to ride out in the middle of the night. One thing was certain - he could not bear the thought of being under the same roof as Will Grainger, not even for Vin's sake. His bedroll was in the barn along with his saddle, and that was where he would spend the remainder of the night.

Nobody else in the study could give Nathan any clue as to why Chris had stormed out of the house. Buck mentioned that he appeared to be going into the bedroom when something had suddenly stopped him, but he had no idea what that was.

Unable to solve the mystery the healer went through to the small bedroom, wondering whether Will could enlighten him. However, before he could ask the Texan turned a smiling face towards him.

"Nathan - he woke up!" Tanner sounded delighted and the healer glanced down at the tracker, but he still appeared to be sleeping.

"He did?"

"Yeah, jus' fer a few minutes, but that's a good sign, ain't it?"

Nathan did not answer as he reached under the blanket and wrapped his fingers around the tracker's slack wrist, feeling his pulse. Satisfied by the steady beat he picked up his stethoscope and pulled the blanket down to check his breathing.

"What the hell's that?" Tanner leaned forward and looked curiously at the beaded pouch around Vin's neck.

"It's a roaroke - y'know, an Indian medicine pouch?" Nathan was not surprised to see it there. He knew how much faith Vin had in the talisman, and he could guess who had passed it on to him. "Reckon Chris had summat t'do wit' that."

"M'boy don't need none of this superstitious crap!" Tanner could not hide his anger as he reached over and drew the rawhide thong from around Vin's neck. As he made to toss it aside Nathan's hand closed about his wrist.

"Ya might think it's nonsense, but it's important to Vin." He regarded the Texan intently, and Tanner made no move to stop him as he took the pouch and tucked it into his pocket.

"He don't need nothin' from Chris Larabee! He's got me now - and we're family!"

Nathan remained silent; he was not prepared to argue the point but he could foresee problems in the future. Tanner might very well be family, but he would soon find out that blood was not necessarily a stronger tie than friendship.

Part Four

Chris Larabee had pushed his black hard, but he had made good time getting back to town. Leaving his mount at the Livery for Tiny to take care of he headed towards the jailhouse, hoping it would be deserted. At the moment he was in no mood for company. However, that hope was quickly dashed as he opened the door.

JD was standing by the stove and he turned to face the gunslinger as he entered, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

"Chris! What the hell happened to you? What you doing back so soon? Is Vin alright?" The questions came tumbling out without any pause for breath as the young peacekeeper stared at Chris' battered face. The bruises and abrasions were really starting to show now, across his cheek and down the side of his jaw and he looked completely worn out. He was trail-dirty and unshaven, and he moved stiffly as he walked towards the stove and poured himself some coffee. JD saw the bandage wrapped around his left hand, but did not remark on it.

The gunslinger took a sip of his drink and then went across to the desk, dropping wearily into the chair with a pained grunt. Tossing his hat to one side he leaned back and regarded the worried young man over the top of his cup. Chris knew he should say something to JD but all he really wanted was to be left alone. He had spent an uncomfortable night in Ben Richardson's barn, unable to sleep because of his anger and worry. There was also a measure of guilt that had kept him restless and awake, the guilt of a promise that he had been unable to keep to Vin Tanner.

'Told you I'd be here when you woke up'.

Chris did not think that anything could have kept him from the tracker's side until he regained consciousness, but he was wrong. He did not even know whether Vin was awake when he had slipped away at first light.

"They operated. Nathan's gonna stay with him for a few days."

JD waited for Chris to elaborate further, but it soon became apparent that the gunslinger had said all he was going to say on the matter. The young peacekeeper realised that Chris had not answered any of his questions properly. All he had learnt from that brief statement was that Vin was still alive, but the gunslinger's battered appearance was still a mystery and JD had no intention of prying into it.

"Well... er... I guess... I reckon I'll go tell Josiah you're back. Ezra too, if he's up and about."

"Good idea, kid." It was almost a dismisal from the older man and JD picked up his hat, but even before he was out of the door Chris was pulling open drawers and rummaging through them.

For some time now Vin Tanner had been drifting, cocooned in the comfortable embrace of nothingness, but now his awakening senses were tugging at him, drawing him back up to the fine line between dreaming and the real world.

Unfortunately with returning consciousness came pain and he tensed, aware that his body still hurt. The sharp pain in his side had dwindled to a throbbing ache now, but he was afraid to move for fear of it returning with the same intensity as before. To be honest he was not even sure that he could move; his limbs did not feel as though they belonged to him and he felt vaguely detached. However, he could hear the blood pounding in his temples, the persistant headache spreading across his brow as he swallowed convulsively against the nausea, and he had the overwhelming urge to be sick.

A faint groan came to his ears but it took him a few moments to realise that it had come from his own lips, and he drew a quick, shallow breath as a shadow seemed to pass across his closed eyelids. Then a hand touched his shoulder and he though he knew who it was.

Chris.

He was not sure whether he had spoken the name out loud or not, but it made him feel safe and protected.

"Vin? Ya awake?"

He recognised the voice as Nathan's and he could not help feeling a slight twinge of disappointment, but he took a deep shuddering breath and slowly forced his eyes open. Blinking several times to clear the blurriness he gazed up at the concerned face, squinting as he concentrated on bringing it into focus.

"Waal, I thought yer were gonna sleep 'til Christmas!" There was immense relief in the healer's voice as he smiled down at Vin. "How're ya feelin'?"

The tracker frowned and thought for a moment but there was really only one answer he could give.

"Sick," he replied, licking at dry lips and swallowing hard. His throat was extremely sore, as though it had been scoured by wind-driven sand, and the word was little more than a croak as he felt a cold sweat break out on his skin.

"Figgered ya might," Nathan said. "Let's get ya sat up."

Vin gasped, his hand instinctively flying to his right side to press firmly against the wound as the healer slipped an arm under his shoulders and eased him up. He barely had time to draw a breath before a basin was thrust in front of him and he vomited, feeling utterly miserable.

Pain knifed through him as he started coughing, bringing up the last of the sticky bile as he hunched over to his right. Every rasping breath seemed to tear at his insides, and the pounding in his head throbbed in time with the agony in his side.

"Easy Vin." Nathan tightened his grip around the Texan, holding him as the dry heaves shook his trembling body, and he could hear the faint whimpers of pain that tumbled from the tracker's mouth. Then James was there, placing a bowl on the bedside table before moving around to Vin's other side and helping Nathan to support him.

"How long has he been awake?" the Englishman asked, rubbing gently at Vin's back as the coughing eased.

"Just a few minutes." Nathan watched as James went to the chest at the foot of the bed and pulled out several more pillows, arranging them behind the tracker.

Vin felt completely helpless as he screwed his eyes shut in pain, and he found it hard to catch his breath as he tried to drag air into his heaving lungs. Gentle hands laid him carefully back on the pile of pillows and a damp cloth dabbed at his mouth and forehead, cool against his flushed skin, but he still felt like hell. Nathan could feel the tracker shivering as he lifted the edge of the blanket and checked the dressing for any sign of fresh blood. He wanted to be certain that Vin had not torn any of the stitches open when he had thrown up.

"See if you can get him to take some water," James said, wringing out the cloth again and wiping the sweat from the Texan's brow. "It's the chloroform that's making him cough. I've seen it before, but he'll feel better once it's cleared out of his system."

"Come on, Vin. See if ya can drink some o'this." Nathan poured some water into a glass and offered it to the tracker and the Texan opened one eye suspiciously, but his friend persisted. "It's jus' water. Ya need to drink summat." The healer raised Vin's head and put the glass to his lips, holding it there until he had taken a few sips. The tracker lay back exhausted but the lines of pain were still etched about his mouth and eyes, and Nathan rested a hand lightly on his brow. "Feel better?"

"Some." Vin was beginning to realise that if he remained still the pain receded to a level that he could cope with, and the few mouthfuls of water had eased his sore throat somewhat. "D'ya need anything fer the pain?" Nathan asked the question knowing that the tracker was going to be in some discomfort for a few days yet, but Vin shook his head. He would rather deal with this on his own terms and keep a clear head than chance anything clouding his thoughts again. However, James Owen thought differently.

"I think it would be best if I gave you a little more morphine, otherwise you won't get any rest." Vin turned his head and looked at the doctor, realising that he was probably right. Any slight movement brought the pain back sharply.

"Okay," he whispered and closed his eyes once more.

As James left to prepare it, Nathan leaned forward and studied his friend for a moment. Both he and James had been worried by the young Texan's lengthy period of unconsciousness; it had been more than fourteen hours since the start of the operation, and apart from a brief moment of drowsy awareness in the early hours of the morning Vin had remained stubbornly asleep. Most of their concern was due to the extra dose of chloroform they had had to administer during the operation, and they had been prepared for any or all of the possible side effects.

"Vin?" Nathan touched his arm lightly. "D'ya know where y'are? Can ya remember what happened?"

Where was he? Vin frowned; he was still confused and disorientated although he remembered being out on the trail, and the terrible pain that seemed to drive everything else from his mind, but his last clear recollection was a pair of hazel eyes, unswerving and steady, that held his gaze as he slipped into a deep dreamless sleep that took away the agony. That sudden image of the gunslinger made him wonder why his friend was not there, and he turned to look at Nathan.

"Where's Chris?"

Nathan had been expecting this question, but it did not make the answer any easier. He had spoken to Buck a short time ago and discovered that the gunslinger had already left - presumably going back to Four Corners - but no-one knew what had caused his premature departure.

"Sorry, Vin. He had t'go back to town." The healer hated telling him that but there was no point lying to him, and he could see the despondancy in the Texan's eyes as he turned his head away.

'He's already gone back to town'.

Vin thought that it had been a dream, but he could vaguely recall someone telling him that before. He frowned, trying to remember who it was and then he suddenly went cold and shivered, stifling a soft gasp as he shifted uncomfortably in the bed.

"Vin? Y'okay?" Nathan saw the colour drain from his face and he reached for the basin once more. "Ya feel sick again?"

"Grainger." The realisation of what the older Texan had revealed suddenly came flooding back, and Vin could scarcely believe what he had been told. He glanced back at Nathan, everything else forgotten as he pleaded with him for some kind of answer. "He said he was my pa." It was just a whisper, and the healer could see the torment in the tracker's eyes.

"That's what he said. D'ya believe him?" Nathan knew Chris did not give any credence to Grainger's claim, but it was more important to know what Vin believed.

"I don't know." His reply was barely audible but it was the truth. He needed more time to consider and adjust to the idea before he could commit himself, but at the moment all he could concentrate on was the incessant throbbing in his side.

"Don't ya worry none about that." Nathan reached out and squeezed his wrist. "There'll be plenty o'time t'think on that later." The healer looked up as James returned, a smaal dish in his hand, and he sat down on the edge of the bed and grasped Vin's left arm as he took the syringe from the container.

"This should make you feel more comfortable," the Englishman stated as he administered the measured dose.

The tracker winced as the needle went in and he closed his eyes, totally exhausted even by this brief moment of waking. He could feel the pain already starting to diminish, but he knew rest was not going to come easy to him. Vin had dozens of questions whirling around in his brain, but the one person he could have talked to was not there. As he slipped into an uneay slumber he frowned in bewilderment, wondering why Chris had left without a word.

+ + + + + + +

It was a little after two when Buck arrived back in town driving Ben's wagon, his nervous grey tied to the rear. He had volunteered to take the bodies of the two attackers killed the previous night into Four Corners for burial, but he was also worried about Chris. The gunslinger's fight with Will Grainger - or rather Will Tanner if the man's claim was to be believed - had been quite intense and brutal, and both men would be feeling the effects of it for some time to come. However, the ladies man was more concerned about his state of mind. Tanner's disclosure of his identity had been a shock to all of them, but Chris had taken it the hardest. He was already frantic with worry over Vin, and to be told that a man he disliked intensely was now purporting to be the father of that same person was almost impossible to comprehend.

Buck had no idea why Chris had stormed out of the house the previous evening and he had been alarmed to discover him gone in the morning. It had taken Nathan's calm common sense to point out that the gunslinger had probably returned to town, unable to stay where Will Tanner was.

Once he had left the bodies with the undertaker he had taken the buckboard and his own mount down to the Livery, and was relieved to find Chris' black gelding in its usual stall. At least he knew the gunslinger was back. At this time of day he was most likely to be in the saloon, so Buck headed in that direction.

As he entered the fairly quiet bar he looked around anxiously. There were a few solitary drinkers at the counter, but at a table in the far corner JD, Ezra, and Josiah appeared to be holding a council of war. Buck signalled to the barkeep for a beer and then wandered across to join his fellow peacekeepers.

"Boys," he said as he dropped into a chair, and three faces turned to look at him in relief.

"Mr Wilmington, your arrival is most fortuitous." Ezra spoke for all of them. They had trying to decide which of them would have the dubious honour of returning to the jailhouse to find out exactly what Chris Larabee was doing, but now it looked as though that choice had been made for them.

"It is? Why?" Buck eyed the three men suspiciously.

"You gotta find out what Chris is up to! He's been holed up in the jailhouse ever since he got back and he's making one hell of a mess!" JD babbled rapidly.

"What d'you mean, kid?"

"He appears to be on some kind of mission," Josiah said solemnly. When JD had told him that the gunslinger was back in town they had both ventured over to the jail, but on peering through the window Josiah had decided it would be best to leave him undisturbed. "He's obviously looking for something."

"Waal, I'll go over and talk to him, but first there's something you boys should know." Buck's face was serious as he spoke and JD immediately jumped to conclusions.

"My God! Is Vin alright?" Ezra and Josiah leaned forward, worry on their faces as they waited for Buck's answer.

"He will be, but he's gonna be laid up for a few weeks."

"So pray tell us, Mr Wilmington, what other peice of breathtaking news are you about to impart to us?" Ezra could afford to be flippant now that Buck had at least eased their fears over Vin's condition. The ladies man took a long swallow of his drink as he considered how best to tell them.

"You remember that fella Grainger who works for the Richardson's?" he said at length.

"Yeah. What about him?" JD picked up his own glass and took a large mouthful.

"Waal, seems his name ain't Grainger after all."

Ezra pulled an exasperated face. "The suspense is killing me. Who is he then?"

"His name's Tanner. He's Vin's father."

There was a loud choking cough from JD and the young peacekeeper spat out most of his beer - straight in Ezra's direction! The gambler scrambled back in his seat but he was too late as the alcohol liberally sprayed the front of his jacket. Josiah pounded JD on the back as the young man continued to cough and gasp while Ezra stared down in horror at his ruined apparel.

"Are y'alright, son?" the ex-preacher asked as JD wiped hiped his streaming eyes.

"Jeez, Buck, you could've warned us!" he wheezed, and the gambler nodded as he dabbed at the damp stain down the front of him with a handkerchief.

"I agree," the Southerner stated. "A word to the wise would have been most appreciated. I would certainly have removed myself from the line of fire!"

"So Grainger is Vin's father," Josiah mused softly. "Does Vin know?" he asked.

"According to Nathan he does." Buck had had a long talk with Nathan before he left. He had wanted to be certain that the tracker was starting to recover from the effects of the operation and that there had been no complications. The healer had told him that Vin remembered Grainger's claim but that he was not sure yet whether he believed him. That would take proof and time.

"But I thought Vin's father was long dead?" JD said in confusion.

"Apparently not." There was a bitterness in Ezra's words that made the others look at him in surprise. Perhaps of all of them only the gambler knew how Vin must be feeling. His own childhood had been less than happy; he had never know his real father just a succession of step-fathers, and most of them from a distance. He could imagine how confused and angry he would be if his own father suddenly came back into his life. There was also another factor to consider, one which no-one else had mentioned yet. "How did Mr Larabee take this startling revelation?"

"Badly." That was an understatement but Buck did not want to go into too many details until he had had a chance to talk to the gunslinger again. "You know Chris. He never trusted the man from the start."

"Is that who Chris's been fighting with?" JD had been wanting to know that all day, but there was no way he was going to ask the gunslinger.

"Oh yeah! He'd've probably killed him too if I hadn't got there when I did." Buck was in no doubt about that and he was relieved that Chris had not been wearing his gun.

"Suspicion is a dangerous weapon," Josiah intoned grimly.

"Why doesn't Chris believe him?" JD wanted to know.

"I don't know, son, but I think our friends will need all our support in the days ahead." The ex-preacher could foresee the many problems that would arise between Chris and Vin as they struggled to come to terms with Will Tanner's relationship to the tracker. It was not going to be easy.

"Waal, I'd best go see what he's up to." Buck drained the last of his beer and banged the glass down on the table as he rose reluctantly to his feet. "Wish me luck boys!"

Buck was not relishing the prospect of confronting Chris, but as he walked down the main street towards the jailhouse he knew that there were questions that needed answering. Uppermost in his mind was the mystery of why Chris Larabee had left the Richardsons so abruptly and without a word to anybody. He had not even waited until Vin regained consciousness after the operation, and that amazed Buck most of all. As he drew level with the office the ladies man hesitated. He knew how dangerous his friend could be when he was angry and upset but someone had to try and talk to him.

'Why does it always have to be me?' Buck thought as he squared his shoulders and pushed the door open, stopping just inside.

"What the hell y'doing?" Buck glanced around at the devastation in the room. It looked as though a tornado had ripped through the building and left nothing undisturbed. Every draw of the filing cabinet had been left open and papers were strewn across the desk and the floor. The two cutting books containing the wanted posters were open on the desk and Chris was poring over one of them, a glass in his right hand and a half empty bottle of whiskey on the side.

"Go away, Buck," he growled without looking up. The ladies man pulled a wry face and closed the door. Finally Chris raised his head and stared at his silent friend. "You're still here."

"Yep, and I ain't going nowhere until you tell me what you're looking for," Buck said quietly, trying to hide his concern. The gunslinger looked dreadful; his hair was uncombed and he was in desperate need of a shave, and the bruises on his face stood out in all their multi-hued glory now. The bandage round his broken fingers was black with ink from the various papers and his eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue as he glared at the ladies man.

Stepping over to the desk Buck picked up the first loose sheet he could find and looked at it for a moment before Chris snatched it away from him.

"You're trying t'find something on Tanner!" Buck could not believe the lengths Chris was going to to try and prove his point.

"His name ain't Tanner!" the gunslinger snapped irritably, pouring himself another drink.

By now Buck's anxiety for Chris was giving way to exasperation and he rested his hands on the top of the desk as he leaned forward.

"Dammit Chris. How long y'gonna keep this up?"

"Until I can convince Vin that this man's a no-good sonofabitch!" Chris heard the sharp huff of breath from the ladies man as he straightened up and he glanced up at him, hazel eyes hard.

"Now what the hell's wrong?"

"You haven't even asked how Vin is," Buck pointed out softly. "Hell, you even left before he'd come to!"

"I had my reasons."

"What reasons?" Buck did not have to think about how close the two men were and nothing should have been able to drive the gunslinger away. "Why'd you run out on him, Chris?" Buck saw the other man's fingers tighten around the glass and knew he had pushed his luck just about as far as it would go.

"Just get the hell outta here, Buck." Chris' voice was low, throbbing with anger as his friend's comment reminded him of his broken promise.

"Alright - I'll go." Buck raised his hands in resignation. "But you think on my words. Put yourself in Vin's place - consider his feelings for once."

Chris restrained his temper until Buck had left, and then he hurled his glass against the wall as hard as he could. He had spent more than six hours searching for something - anything - that he could pin on Will Grainger but without success. All he had gained for his troubles was frustration. It was not Buck's meddling that angered him; it was the fact that he was right. He should never have left Vin no matter what the provocation had been, but hindsight did nothing to lessen the guilt.

+ + + + + + +

When Vin awoke later that same day he felt decidedly better. The pain was still there but the morphine was helping to keep it to a bearable level, and to his relief the sickness had finally gone. Sunlight shone through the partly open curtains, the lengthening shadows indicating the lateness of the afternoon and for a long moment he just lay still, relishing the moment without discomfort.

He remembered waking up earlier, feeling thoroughly wretched and having to endure the embarrassment of throwing up, but he was glad of Nathan's comforting presence until he had drifted off to sleep again. However, his throat was still sore and as he shifted his head in search of water he saw Will Grainger sitting on a chair beside the bed.

The older Texan had one leg resting up on a stool as he leaned back, his arms folded as he dozed. Vin swallowed, his sore throat temporarily forgotten as he regarded the man and the memories came rushing back.

'I'm yer pa.'

It had all seemed like a bad dream and as he looked at the man slumped in the chair he realised that those three words had suddenly changed his world. If he accepted the man for who he claimed to be it would irrevocably affect his future but he was not sure in what way.

Gritting his teeth the tracker slowly moved to his right so he could study his fellow Texan without straining his neck too much. He found himself looking for some familial resemblance but it was difficult, and his curiosity was further roused by the bruising around the man's eyes and the signs of a broken nose. The man was of a similar build to Chris Larabee but that meant absolutely nothing, and although he knew that the Texan's eyes were the same colour as his own he could see no other obvious likeness. However, the harmonica was fairly strong evidence in Will Drainger's favour. The tune he had played that night - the one that Vin's grandfather had made up himself - indicated an undeniable family connection.

Vin drew a deep breath and gave a sigh but then he tensed as he felt the cough tickling the back of his throat. He had a very clear memory of how painful such a reaction could be and he immediately pressed one hand to his side as he tried unsuccessfully to suppress the urge.

Will Tanner was startled out of his slumber by the painful coughing of the young man in the bed.He hissed as he slid his wounded leg from the stool and he leaned forward anxiously, slipping an arm behind the tracker's back and sitting him up a little.

"Y'alright boy?" he asked as the spasms slowly died away. "D'ya want some water?" He did not wait for a reply. Nathan had left a jug on the side, water mixed with lemon juice and honey to help soothe the tracker's sore throat, and he poured some into a glass. Holding it to the younger man's lips he allowed him a few sips to quench his thirst before easing him back against the pillows. "How's that? Better?"

Vin nodded and Tanner sat back in the chair, content just to watch him for a while. James Owen had told him how ill Vin had been that morning, most of it due to the effects of the chloroform, although the operation itself appeared to have been successful. The young tracker still looked pale and tired but that was only to be expected so soon after such major surgery, and Tanner had been determined to be here when Vin finally woke up.

"The doc says yer comin' along real well," he said, breaking the awkward silence. Vin just looked back at him through half-closed eyes as he tried to get his breath back. "I wanted t'see ya this mornin' but I heard ya weren't so good. Reckon ya needed the sleep." Tanner stopped, feeling a touch uncomfortable with the one-sided conversation and a little concerned by Vin's silence. "Y'alright, son?"

"Am I?" The words were a mere whisper and Tanner frowned in confusion.

"Are ya what?" he asked.

"Am I really yer son?" Now Vin did look at him, a question in the blue eyes, a question that he was not sure he wanted the answer to. Tanner hesitated, rubbing his hand wearily across his face.

"I weren't sure how much ya remembered. I know ya were pretty sick... " He paused, reaching out and resting his hand on Vin's forearm. "But I'm telling ya the truth, boy."

"The truth?" The tracker shook his head and a frown creased his brow. "I dunno what t'believe any more."

"I know it's kinda hard t'take in but like I said before I been lookin' fer ya for years." Tanner sounded sincere but Vin was still not quite convinced.

"But why here? Why now?"

Will thought carefully before he replied. He could sense Vin's indecision and he desperately wanted the young man to believe him.

"I heard talk of these seven men in Four Corners," he said slowly. "Even heard some o'their names, but I weren't sure it was really you." He shrugged. "Then I happened on the Richardsons and helped them out. Turned out they were heading fer Four Corners. I couldn't pass up that chance."

Vin thought long and hard about what Will had just said. He was aware of just how far their reputation was spreading and whilst he felt pride in the achievements of himself and his friends, the tracker lived with the constant fear that someday someone would seek him out for the bounty on his head. It was still his intention to try and clear his name one day but until then he had to be wary of any stranger showing a particular interest in him.

"So ya were comin' here to find me." It was almost a statement from Vin, and Tanner nodded.

"I told ya I'd bin lookin' fer ya. It was the first chance I had." The Texan regarded Vin steadily, and pressed home his advantage. "Ya still don't believe me, do ya boy?" Giving the tracker no time to answer Tanner reached into his inside jacket pocket and Vin suddenly stiffened, wondering what the man was about to do. "Mebbe this'll convince ya." He held out a small dog-eared photograph snf the tracker took it hesitantly, staring at the faded image curiously. It was a picture of a young woman holding a baby in her arms, a stern faced old man with white hair standing just behind her, and Vin felt a vague frisson of familiarity. "D'ya recognise 'em?" Tanner prompted.

The young tracker's hand was shaking but he could not force any words past the tightness in his throat. The image blurred as tears formed in his eyes and he wiped the back of his hand across his nose as his emotions threatened to sweep him away.

"Where'd ya get this?" Vin whispered, his voice choked as he brushed his fingers lightly, almost reverently, over the face of the woman. The tracker would have known his mother anywhere even after all this time and the man behind her was his grandfather, of that he was certain.

"Yer ma sent it t'me when I was in prison. Reckon ya weren't more'n a coupla months old. I carried it with me the whole time. It was the only thing that kept me going." The Texan placed his hand on Vin's shoulder, squeezing affectionately. "I didn't mean t'upset ya son, but I always swore that one day I'd find ya."

"But... Why'd ya wait so long?" The tracker regarded the older man through tear-damp lashes, his voice almost breaking with emotion.

"I told ya I'd done some bad things." Tanner hung his head before he continued. "I ain't proud o'them."

"D'ya think I'd a'cared 'bout that? We're family. We shoulda bin together." The was a hint of bitterness in Vin's voice at the thought of all those wasted years but through that he realised that he had just acknowledged this man as his father. He was at a loss to explain just how he felt. So many different emotions tugged at him; he felt betrayed, saddened, and cheated out of what should have been his by right.

"I know I ain't bin much of a father to ya, but gimme a chance. That's all I ask."

Vin looked at the bowed head of his father for a long time and then he turned his gaze back to the photograph.

"Tell me about my mother."

+ + + + + + +

There was a definite hint of approaching winter in the chilly morning air as Chris Larabee strode along the broadwalk towards the office of The Clarion News.

His attempts the previous day to find any information about Will Grainger had come to nothing, and after returning the jailhouse to some semblance of order he had taken himself off to the solitude of the bath-house to soak some of the stiffness from his muscles and to consider his next course of action. Having drawn a blank with Grainger Chris had turned his attention to the attack on Ben Richardson's place. In all honesty, as a peacekeeper he should have been dealing with that first but he had allowed his personal feelings to take precedence over duty.

It had been quite late in the afternoon when Chris had gone to the Bank and discovered it closed for the day. Undeterred, he had dragged the manager away from his supper and persuaded him to open up the office so he could check the copies of Richardson's mortgage papers for an official investigation. The man had been none too co-operative at first, but he had finally agreed after Chris threatened to lock him up for obstructing the course of justice.

He had retired to the boarding house quite early and despite his worries, he had enjoyed a better nights sleep than the one he had spent in the barn. Now, this morning he had decided to check out the deeds at the Land Office. However, he was not really sure what he was looking for, but he thought Mary Travis would be the best person to help him. He knew that her husband had been murdered whilst investigating fraudulant land deals, and she might still have some contacts that could prove useful.

Mary looked up as the gunslinger entered the office, showing remarkable restraint at the sight of the bruises on his face as she smiled in greeting.

"Chris. Buck said you were back."

"He did?" Chris wondered what else the ladies man might have mentioned, but he waited for the blonde woman to make the next comment.

"Yes. We were all worried about Vin, but Buck said Nathan and James had operated and he was going to be fine. Is that true?" She had been relieved when Buck had told her and Amelia with the good news on his return. Although she had initially very concerned about the tracker, she was reassured by Amelia's conviction that he would be in good hands with James. Both women had been very surprised by the disclosure about Will Tanner, but Buck warned her not to broach the subject with Chris Larabee. The gunslinger nodded in reply to her question, and was relieved that Mary did not enquire any further.

"I need you to do me a favour," he asked, and the woman looked slightly curious.

"If I can," she replied. As Chris explained what he needed concerning the Richardson's and their property, Mary found her gaze drawn to the filthy bandage wrapped around the gunslinger's left hand. She was aware of his violent response to Will Tanner's claim, and like Buck she was of the opinion that Chris was over-reacting somewhat. "Yes, I'll help you, but on one condition."

"Condition?" Chris was not used to Mary making demands.

"Yes. Let me change that bandage before we go anywhere." The woman was determined, and Chris had no choice but to agree if he wanted her help. "I'll be right back."

The gunslinger wandered idly around the office until Mary returned with a small box. Chris perched on the corner of the desk as the woman cut the grimy bandage from his hand and he explained his suspicions about the railroad and Mary nodded in interest.

"I remember that. It was about the same time Stephen was trying to expose Frank Elliot and his friends." A shadow passed across the young woman's face but she forced herself to continue. "They were talking about the branch line... ?"

"That's what I want to find out. I think - ow!" Chris yelped as Mary started to bind his broken fingers. Although the swelling had gone down dark bruises covered them and they were still very painful.

"Sorry," Mary apologised as she tied the end off. "There. Is that more comfortable?" The gunslinger gave a quick nod. "Good. I'll just get my shawl."

They spent the next few hours going over the property deeds and comparing the large scale map to the copy of Richardson's mortgage document that Chris had appropriated from the bank. The proposal route for the original branch line was from El Paso, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona. If it had still been going ahead it would cut directly through the northern ranges of Ben Richardsons land.

Mary then suggested she telegraph an old friend of Stephen's who worked in the main bank in Phoenix, to see if he had any further information that might help. As they parted company at the telegraph office she laid her hand on Chris' forearm.

"When are you going back to see Vin?"

"Er... I don't know." Mary's question caught Chris off guard. He had not really thought about when he would be able to do it. It was not that he did not want to see Vin - that was his paramount concern - it was Grainger's presencce that made the situation difficult. "Not for a coupla days."

"Well when you do can you give him my best regards? Tell him Billy and I are thinking of him."

"I'll do that. Thanks for your help, Mary." Chris gave a tight smile as he headed down towards the saloon clutching the various sheets of paper that they had made notes on.

Mary watched as he walked away and her heart ached for him. Chris Larabee was a very troubled man that much was obvious. She had seen the shutters come down when she had asked about Vin. Buck had told her exactly how the gunslinger felt about Will Tanner but she thought he had been exaggerating until now. The hitherto unbreakable relationship between Chris and the young Texan now seemed poised on a knife edge, and she would not like to speculate on how it would turn out.

Chris sat at his usual table in the corner of the saloon, his back to the wall so he could observe all the comings and goings of the patrons. There was a plate of cold meat, cheese and bread by his right elbow as he leaned forward, carefully studying the neatly written sheets of paper spread before him.

As he picked absently at the food Chris re-read some of the notes he and Mary had made at the Land Office that morning. The manager had been conspicuous by his absence but a nervous clerk had given them the documents they required and then left them to read at their leisure. What they had found had been most enlightening.

The gunslinger leaned back in his chair and took a long swallow of his beer just as Ben Richardson entered the saloon. Chris raised one eyebrow in surprise as the Englishman headed for his table and then stopped, his hands resting on the back of a chair as he regarded the gunslinger.

"Ben. What brings you to town?" Richardson gave a quick smile.

"Is it safe to sit down?" he asked, pulling out the chair before the other man replied. "Buck told me you weren't in the best of moods."

"Buck talks too much." There was no malice in Chris' words as he returned the grin. "D'you wanna a beer?"

Richardson nodded politely, although he was still trying to acquire a taste for the American brew. It was nothing like the rich full-bodied beer he had been used to, and it was one of the things he missed about England. Chris signalled to the barkeep for two more beers and then turned to Ben.

"How's Vin?" There was an eagerness in Chris' voice now as he asked the question, and again Richardson womdered why he had left so abruptly, but Buck had warned him not to dig into that too much.

"He's better than he was. James and Nathan were quite concerned about him yesterday morning, but he seems to be making progress now."

The timely arrival of the beers provided a distraction so Ben did not see the guilt that flashed accross the gunslinger's face at his comment. Chris realised he should have stayed and if he could turn back the clock he would have but that was impossible.

"I thought I'd come in and see Amy and the children," Richardson explained in answer to Chris' original question. "I had to tell her about the trouble we had the other night and I was hoping to persuade her to stay in town for a few more days just to be on the safe side, but she refused. Said she'd rather be at home."

The gunslinger smiled. "That's one strong-willed lady you got there," he said.

"Yes." Stubborn was probably the word Ben would have used, but he should have been prepared for her refusal. He should have known that she would not want to be seperated from her husband and brother despite the possibility of danger. Amelia also knew about Vin; she had been with Mary when Buck had told her of the tracker's illness and Tanner's startling claim. That was another reason for her wanting to return. With a guest under her roof, especially a sick one, she felt it only right that she should be there. Richardson gave a wry grin and then turned his attention to the papers strewn on the table.

"So what's all this then?" he asked curiously.

"Thought I'd do a bit of digging. See if I could find a reason for the attack the other night?" Chris informed him, pushing one of the sheets forward. "Seems old man Macready was made an offer for his property some years back."

"An offer? Who from?" Richardson leaned forward, extremely interested in what Chris had discovered.

"A man named Fergusson. He was working for the Southern States Railroad."

"A railway company wanted to buy the land?" Ben glanced down at the sheet Chris had given him and whistled softly when he saw the amount of money the previous owner had turned down. "Why didn't he sell?"

"According to the bank manager Macready was a stubborn old cuss set in his ways. He didn't hold with the railroad carving up the land. As far as everyone knew the idea of a branch line was abandoned."

"So why was his property auctioned off?"

"Well, he never married so when he died the ranch was sold to pay off his debts." Chris took a sip of his beer, seeing the thoughtful expression on Richardson's face as he mulled over the possibilities.

"Maybe it never was abandoned," the Englishman said quietly and he looked steadily at the gunslinger.

"What d'you mean?" Chris wanted to know if there was a specific reason behind that statement. He had already thought of that himself, and Mary had sent telegraphs to El Paso and Phoenix where the railroad company had offices. They were still waiting for answers to them.

"Well, about a week after I'd bought the ranch I was approached by a very polite gentleman who wanted to know if I'd be willing to sell - for a reasonable profit of course."

"The plans show that the line would've cut right through the northern parts of your property." Chris looked at the Englishman, seeing the realisation dawn in his eyes.

"So you think the railway's behind all of this?" Ben could not believe that a reputable company could be so underhanded.

"Looks that way." The gunslinger was under no such illusions.

"So what can we do?"

"Not much until we get proof." Chris hated being so negative but there was little choice. "Mary's making a few inquiries but all you can do is be on your guard for now."

"Those two men that were killed? Buck and I checked the bodies." Richardson grimaced with distaste as he recalled the unpleasant task. "There was nothing to identify them or who they were working for."

"Yeah, I know. I've checked them against the wanted posters but didn't find anything. They seem to've covered their tracks pretty well."

Richardson grew quiet, his face troubled.. He had not been expecting this. He had come to America to realise a dream, but through no fault of his that dream was rapidly turning into a nightmare. There were unscrupulous men the world over but he thought a fresh start would mean exactly that.

"Don't worry. We'll get the evidence we need."

Ben nodded appreciatively. He had begun to realise just how much he could trust this enigmatic gunslinger, and he knew Chris would do his best to ensure the safekeeping of his family.

"So when you thinking of going back?" Chris asked as Richardson took a thoughtful sip of his beer.

"In the morning. With Vin at the ranch Amy wants to get back." He laughed suddenly. "I think she's looking forward to having someone else to fuss over apart from us."

Chris grinned, knowing how much his friend was going to hate that. At the moment the tracker had no choice, but once he started to get better it would drive him to distraction.

"Maybe I'll ride back with you tomorrow. See how Vin's doing."

"That's a good idea," Ben agreed. "It'll solve a problem for me as well. How would you like to ride Mersey Prince back for me?"

The gunslinger looked at Richardson in amazement, and the smile on his face gave the other man his answer.

+ + + + + + +

"It's amazing how different Chris looks when he's happy."

Amelia Richardson made the observationas they made their way back to the ranch As arranged the previous evening Chris had met them at the Livery. He still had not received any reply to the telegraph Mary had sent, and he had asked Buck to keep an eye out for it arriving. With the family and Constance Bartlett seated in the buggy the gunslinger fastened his black gelding to the rear beside Ben's mount and then led Richardson's prize stallion from its stall.

Buck had accompanied him to the stable to say his own goodbyes, although he had not had very much success in chipping away some of the frost from the governess. The ladies man looked on a little enviously as Chris swung into the saddle of the bay stud, taking a few moments to enforce his will upon the spirited animal and letting it know who was in charge.

For almost twenty minutes Chris had kept the stallion to a brisk trot in deference to the slower moving buggy. Now Amelia watched the gunslinger, his expression rapt as the bay tossed its shapely head, fighting against the strong hands that held it in check. The Arab had been kept in the confines of the Livery for three days, grain-fed and bored, but now it just wanted to run.

"What do you mean - different?" Ben was genuinely puzzled and his wife poked him playfully in the ribs.

"Honestly, you men are all the same!"

Although Amelia was glad to be returning home she had enjoyed her few days in town and in particular the company of Mary Travis. The newspaper woman had told her a great deal about Four Corners and with a little prompting how the town had come to be protected by seven peacekeepers, an unusual situation anywhere. With her feminine curiosity piqued Anelia had turned the subject around to Chris and Vin. She had assumed they were friends of longstanding and had been very surprised to learn that they had only known each other for little more than a year. The two men had a natural affinity with one and other and shared a deep bond of friendship, loyalty and trust and it helped her understand why the tracker's illness and Will Tanner's disclosure had affected Chris so badly.

Richardson laughed softly; he had no idea what his wife was talking about but even he could see how much the American was enjoying the ride. Putting his fingers to his lips he whistled shrilly, attracting the gunslinger's attention.

"Give him his head, Chris!" he yelled. "Let him run!"

Chris felt a thrill rush through him at Ben's words. He had never ridden a horse quite like this one before; he had seen the bay's ears prick up at the sound of Richardson's whistle and felt the bunching of the powerful muscles in its hindquarters as it anticipated something. Shortening the reins slightly the gunslinger gently tapped his heels to the Arab's sides. Without breaking stride the stallion stretched out into a full gallop, its silken mane whipping across Chris' face as it sped smoothly across the ground, tirelessly eating up the distance.

The gunslinger had never felt such effortless speed and it was almost intoxicating. For a while as he was carried along by the racing Arab stud Chris forget all his worries as he gave himself up to the exhilarating pleasure.

Will Tanner finished the last of his luncch and glanced over towards the bed once more, a faint smile on his face as he watched his son. Vin was propped up against the pillows dozing, having just consumed almost a whole bowl of thin vegetable broth. Annie Roberts had gone to a great deal of trouble to make sure the soup would be suitable for the recuperating tracker and had brought it in herself. The concerned woman had also been prepared to stay and feed the invalid but Vin was slightly embarrassed by the fussing and insisted politely that he could manage.

The young Texan had not eaten anything for almost four days and was surprised how hungry he actually was, but even the small bowl had defeated him in the end and he did not even touched the fresh bread at all. Tired by the effort he had fallen asleep as soon as Will had removed the tray from his lap. That had been about half an hour ago, long enough for the older man to eat the cold lunch that had been brought in for him and pour himself another dup of coffee. As he rose to his feet he felt a sudden twinge in his injured leg and he put his hand on the back of the seat to steady himself. The chair moved away from him slightly, the feet scraping loudly on the polished floor, and he ccursed as he saw the tracker start and open his eyes.

"Sorry, son. Didn't mean t'wake ya," he apologised, limping accross to sit beside the bed.

"S'okay, I weren't really asleep," Vin replied and then he frowned in concern as he saw the other man rubbing absently at his thigh. "What's wrong wit' ya leg?"

"Just a bit stiff is all. Must be gettin' old."

"Y'ain't that old." Even as he said it Vin realised that he had no idea just what age Will Tanner really was. Hell, he did not even know his own birthdate! The older Texan laughed.

"Let's jus' say I won't see fifty again, boy>"

The traccker laughed with him, still marvelling at the way he felt at ease with this man who until four days ago had simply been just another stranger. It had not happened with the speed nor the intensity of the instant rapport he had experienced with Chris Larabee. That was unique in itself, and this bond would need to be worked on by both of them but he was starting to feel comfortable with it. Thinking about the gunslinger brought a frown to his face, making him wonder once again why Chris was not there and trying hard to ignore the reason why. He knew things would not be settled until Chris accepted Will Tanner for who he was.

"Y'alright?" Tanner leaned forward anxiously as he saw the young man's troubled expression but Vin shrugged it off.

"Yeah. I'm just a bit tired." It was only half the truth but Will seemed satisfied.

"Why don't ya get some rest? We've got plenty o'time to talk."

As Vin settled back against the pillows Tanner got up to refill his cup from the pot on the corner table just as the door opened and Nathan came in.

"Ben's back wit' the family," he informed them and then looked directly at the tracker. "Chris is with 'em." The healer saw the uncertainty on Vin's face as he glancced over at the older Texan but it was the brief flicker of annoyance from Will Tanner that surprised him the most. However, he put that down to the animosity between Chris and the tall Texan and the fact that Tanner was trying to get to know his son. "D'ya feel up to a visitor?" Despite his moment of doubt there was no denying the enthusiasm in the tracker's eyes. "Alright. Let me get rid of these trays."

Nathan picked up the lunch things and exited the room, stopping to speak briefly to Chris Larabee as the gunslinger walked through the study towards the bedroom.

Chris paused as he stepped across the threshold and a grin came to his face. His eyes fastened eagerly on the lean form of the tracker and he had not realised how much he needed to see that he was alright until this moment. Vin was sitting up in the bed pillows tucked behind his back and there was a hesitant smile on his face as he regarded his friend.

"Well you look a whole lot better than when I saw you last." Chris tried to keep the greeting light but there was an edge of forced affability in his tone as his guilt came creeping back. He walked forward a few more paces and then stopped, suddenly aware that someone else was in the room. His expression changed, disdain replacing the grin as Grainger limped forward and halted by the end of the bed, resting his hand casually on the foot of the bedstead.

"Larabee." The Texan smiled, raising his coffee cup in acknowledgement. Chris glanced down at Grainger's hand, tensing at his almost proprietory gesture, but he did not trust himself to reply. It was Vin who broke the deadlock. He could feel the strained atmosphere between the two men as he glanced from one bruised face to the other. Nobody had mentioned a fight to him; nobody had needed to, but all the signs were right there for him to see.

"Hey, cowboy. Good t'see ya." There was genuine delight in the tracker's weary voice and the other Texan glanced at him sharply, seeing the warmth in his smile. He was also surprised to hear Vin call the gunslinger 'cowboy'; he had witnessed Larabee's contemptuous reaction to that word on their first meeting but the tracker obviously knew that he was on safe and well-trodden ground.

"Y'mind what the doc told ya. Yer not t'tire yerself out." Realising the gunslinger was intending to stay awhile Tanner tried his best to dissuade him. Vin still had difficulty remaining awake for any length of time and the Englishman had advised him to get as much rest as possible.

"I know, but d'ya mind... ?" Vin gave an apologetice smile and Tanner nodded in resignation.

"Alright. I'll leave you boys to talk." As he headed for the door he threw Vin a quick smile. "I'll see ya later, son."

Chris remained standing stiffly where he was until the door had closed and then he took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. Crossing over to the bed he pulled a chair forward and sat down, removing his hat and gripping it in his hands.

"So how're you doing?" It was the obvious question to ask but Chris could see some of the answer for himself. Vin did not look quite so drawn as he had and some of the colour was starting to creep back into his cheeks, a far cry from when the gunslinger had seen him immediately after the operation.

"Better. It still hurts like hell if I move."

Chris nodded and looked away, his gaze sweeoing round the small but well furnished bedroom. The tracker's clean and neatly folded clothes were laid on a chair to one side, his hat and gunbelt hanging over the back. The young Texan waited for his friend to say something but he could see that he was ill at ease as he ran his fingers nervously round the rim of his hat.

"So how're things in town?" Vin asked eventually. Chris looked back at him a frown on his face as he tried desperately to think of something to say.

"Well, one of Tiny's mares is in foal." The gunslinger winced as he said it wondering how he could have come out with such an inane comment. He had never felt so awkward in the tracker's presence before and he could tell that Vin was having the same problem. For a brief moment he regretted his decision to come back to the ranch but he could not have stayed away if he tried.

"Really?" The Texan sounded totally disinterested. With a heavy sigh he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. In the past, many of the conversations between himself and Chris had been interspersed with long silences but they were companionable, with no need for words. He was not used to the uneasiness of this stilted coversation and he could sense that their relationship had already changed.

"Vin? You alright? Do you want me to go?" For almost the first time since he had entered the room Chris sounded sincere and he was conscious that he might have tired him but the young Texan opened his eyes and turned to his friend.

"No. I'm fine." For an instant they held eye contact but it was Chris who looked away first this time, tight-lipped and grim as he carefully studied his hat. Vin watched the gunslinger for a few seconds, noticing for the first time the bandage wrapped around his left hand. "What d'ya do t'yer hand?"

"My hand?" The gunslinger started guiltily and then shrugged. "It was an accident."

"Don't lie t'me, Chris." Up until now the gunslinger had never been less than honest with him and there was hurt and betrayal in Vin's eyes. "I know yer bin fightin' wit' Will."

The gunslinger looked up and there was a glimmer of hope in the hazel eyes at Vin's use of the Texan's first name. "Will? Not pa?" There was a long silence after Chris' sarcastic query and the pain in the tracker's blue eyes was not just caused by his wound.

"Just ain't got used t'calling 'im that yet," he said slowly waiting for the inevitable response.

"So - you believe him then." Chris held his breath as their eyes locked, willing the tracker to voice the denial he wanted to hear. However, the longer the silence dragged on the more his sense of foreboding grew.

"Yeah - I do." The young Texan whispered those three fateful words and Chris reeled as though he had been struck. He could see the belief in Vin's eyes but more than that he could see the beginning of the end of their friendship. "I know what ya think of him, Chris, but if ya just give him a chance... " The tracker paused, seeing the determined set of Chris' jaw. "He's m'pa but it ain't gonna change what's between us." Vin was almost pleading, trying to convince himself that things would remain the same, but deep down he knew they would not. There was a rift between them now, and that rift was Will Tanner.

"I ain't about to change my mind 'cos you think he's your pa." The words came out with more anger than Chris had intended. He did not want to upset the recovering tracker but he was still convinced that the other Texan was deceiving Vin while he was at his most vulnerable. "What proof have you got? Just his word? That ain't good enough."

"He showed me a picture. It was my ma and my grandpa an' me as a baby." There was a wistful sadness in Vin's eyes as he spoke. "I ain't never seen a picture of my ma before."

"How the hell d'you know it was her then?" Chris hated being so brutal but he had to make the tracker see that Grainger was playing him for a fool. "How old were you when she died? Four? Five? How can you remember her?"

"I remember," Vin growled softly but the gunslinger was not finished.

"So where the hell's he been? Why'd it take him so long to come looking for you?" Chris was warming to his argument now, oblivious to Vin's irritation and his strained features as he started to tire.

"I ain't sayin' he's perfect. Fact is he spent some time in prison."

"Prison?" Chris pounced on that one word with all the speed of a winter-starved mountain lion. "What'd he do?"

"Hell does it matter?" Vin gave a heavy sigh but he was getting angry with his friend now. "Why ya so all-fired set against him?"

"'Cos he's lying to you. I just wish I could make you see that."

Vin stared at him for a moment and there was reproach in his voice when he replied. "At least he was here for me. Where were you?"

Chris drew a deep breath. Vin's accusing words were like a knife cutting into his soul, twisting through the guilt that already nestled there. "What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped even though he knew the answer.

"I needed ya t'be here but ya couldn't be bothered t'stick around."

"Is that what you think?" Chris' eyes narrowed as he got to his feet. "When your precious pa told you I'd left I was standing right outside that door! He lied to you then and he's lying to you now, but you’re too blind to see it." Angrily jamming on his hat Chris turned and started to walk away. "Open your eyes, Vin," he flung over his shoulder. "Take a long hard look."

"Damn you, Larabee! Who the hell d'ya think ya are?" Vin completely forgot himself as he finally lost his temper. Flinging back the bedclothes the tracker made a futile attempt to get out of bed. The pain that tore through him ripped one inarticulate cry from his throat before it took his breath away and he collapsed back, curling on his right side to try and ease the agony.

"Oh shit!" Chris went pale as he turned and saw the young Texan writhing on the bed and he rushed back. Perching on the edge of the mattress the gunslinger caught hold of Vin, pulling him up so his head and shoulders were resting in his lap as he held him close. The tracker had his hands pressed firmly against his wound, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he panted heavily, trying to catch his breath. "It's alright, Vin. I've got you."

"Chris - what the hell happened?" Nathan was suddenly at the other side of the stricken Texan. The healer had heard the sound of raised voices and was already on his way in when Vin cried out in pain. He could see that the bedclothes had been pushed aside and he guessed that the tracker had been trying to get out of bed. "It's okay, Vin. Take a deep breath. That's it, and again. Now lemme see."

Chris did not know what to say as Nathan tried to calm Vin down. The gunslinger was already carrying enough guilt as it was and now as he looked at the tracker's pain-pinched features how could he admit that this was also his fault? He had never seen his friend in such agony before and it scared the hell out of him.

"Aw dammit!" Nathan hissed as he lifted up Vin's nightshirt and saw the blood staining the bandage. "Looks like he's torn his stitches."

"What?" Chris looked at the dressing in dismay as the healer gently moved Vin's hands away from the area.

"Stay with him while I get my things. Don't let him move!"

If he had not been so worried Chris would have laughed. Stay with him? A herd of wild horses would not be sufficient to drag him away at this moment! He could feel Vin quivering with pain as his hands returned to clutch at his side and see the tears that dampened his lashes, and he felt totally responsible for this setback.

"I'm sorry, Vin," he whispered hesitantly, brushing the clinging hair from the tracker's sweaty brow. Chris Larabee never apologised for anything but the words came easy to him now. "I didn't mean for this to happen. Maybe I wasn't here for you before but I'm here now for as long as you need me."

It was doubtful whether the gunslinger's words had registered in Vin's mind as he fought against the pain but they made Chris realise just how selfish he had been. Friendship was a process of give and take, and for some time now he had been doing all the taking. Now it was time for him to redress the balance no matter how difficult that might prove under the circumstances. He owed it to Vin to at least try.

It was as he sat there holding the Texan to him and willing Nathan to hurry that Chris noticed for the first time that the talisman was gone from around his friend’s neck.

Ben Richardson was relieved that Amy had decided to take the two children upstairs for an afternoon nap. The atmosphere when he had returned to the main house with Will Tanner had become decidedly fraught.

James and Nathan had spent some time with Vin, cleaning and re-stitching the wound, and now he was sleeping quietly after being well dosed with laudanum. The whole procedure had been watched by a worried Chris Larabee who had remained sitting on the bed and holding the suffering tracker despite being told to leave.

The young Englishman was just putting in the last of the stitches when Tanner stepped into the bedroom and stopped dead, his expression one of alarm at the scene which met his eyes.

"What the hell's happened?" he demanded, limping forward to see what they were doing.

"It's nothin' to worry about. Vin just tore a coupla stitches." Nathan looked up at the older man, seeing the anger as he glared accusingly at Chris Larabee.

"How'd that happen? What d'ya do?" The gunslinger did not even bother to look up and Tanner took another step forward. "I'm talking t'ya, Larabee."

Nathan stood up, placing himself between the two men as he rested a placating hand on the Texan's shoulder.

"Leave it, Will," he warned. "Let's get Vin settled first." The older man stared at the healer for a moment seeing the determination on his face, but he looked beyond him once more at the gunslinger before he relented.

"Fine, but I'll be just outside."

Nathan and James were grateful then for Ben Richardson's timely arrival, his presence helping to defuse the tense situation as he led the Texan out to the drawing room at the front of the house. Both the healer and the doctor knew that another confrontation between Chris and Tanner was inevitable but they did not want Vin to suffer a further setback because of it. The tracker would most likely sleep for several hours but they were not prepared to take the risk of having him disturbed by an argument between the two people he cared about. As James taped a clean dressing in place Nathan turned and dropped a hand on Chris' shoulder.

"Come on. Ya can leave him now. He 'll be alright." The healer watched as Chris reluctantly eased the tracker back onto the bed and then he slowly stood up. Nathan was surprised when he simply walked out of the room. He was aware that the gunslinger had not said a word since Vin's collapse and he could see the pain and the guilt etched on his face. It was not just Vin Tanner who was hurting but he suspected that it would take a lot longer for Chris to heal.

"That's it." James Owen pulled the covers back up to the traccker's chin and straightened up. "I don't think there's any real harm done. It'll probably be best if we just leave him to sleep."

As the docctor gathered up his equipment Nathan picked up the bowl of water and both men went out into the study. To their amazement Chris was still there, staring out of the window at the wild overgrown area that had once been a neat kitchen garden. James glanced at the healer but Nathan shook his head slowly. There was no point in anybody laying the blame at Chris' feet. It was obvious that he was already deeply troubled and unhappy.

"I'll clear up here," Owen offered. "Why don't you two go through to the drawing room? That's where Ben keeps his best brandy."

"Reckon that's a good idea," Nathan stated. "Come on, Chris. I dunno about you but I could do with a drink."

Unfortunately the brandy was not the only thing waiting for them in the drawing room. As soon as they reached the doorway Will Tanner launched into his angry tirade before Ben could stop him.

"So, is someone gonna tell me how all this happened? He was fine when I left 'im."

"Ain't nothing to tell." Nathan remained calm as he saw the gunslinger suddenly tense. "I already told ya - "

"I know what ya said!" Tanner interupted him and pointed a finger at Chris. "It's all yer damn fault, Larabee! Ya just stay the hell away from my son, ya hear?"

"I left once before," the gunslinger hissed dangerously. "I ain't about to do it again."

"When ya gonna understand? He don't need ya no more," Tanner spat, his voice dark with anger. "No more'n he needed that Indian nonsense ya hung round his neck!"

With a guilty start Nathan suddenly remembered he had the roaroke in his pocket but before he could say anything Chris had stepped forward and poked a finger at Tanner's chest.

"What did you do with it?" he snapped. He had already guessed that Tanner - how he hated thinking of him as that - had been the one to remove it from his friend. "Did you even bother to find out what it was? At least I know what Vin believes in. If you were any kind of father you'd've taken the time to find out!" Despite his anger Chris could not keep the smugness from his voice.

Ben Richardson had had enough. He had hoped that the two men would be able to put their hostility aside for the sake of the tracker but he had been sadly disillusioned. Now he could see this latest confrontation escerlating into yet another fight and he was not prepared to stand for that, not with his family back home.

"This has gone far enough!" Both men looked round as the Englishman stepped forward, his face grim as he shouldered his way between them. "I won't stand for any more of this nonsense under my roof!" The anger in his voice was something neither Chris nor Tanner had heard before and they actually stopped and listened to him.

"I'm sorry, Mr Richardson," the Texan apologised. "But I'm only tryin' t'do what's best for m'boy."

"I can understand that, Will, but you're both going about it the wrong way. You're his father and you - " Ben turned to face Chris. " - you're supposed to be his friend. Have either of you considered what this fighting is going to do to Vin?"

Nathan almost applauded the Englishman's words when he saw Chris and Tanner exchange a brief glance. He could only hope that the voice of reason from an objective outsider would bring them to their senses.

"For as long as Vin is a guest in this house I shall expect you both to put aside your differences and behave with some decorum." Ben tried hard not to look at Nathan; he could see the amusement in the healer's eyes as he continued to lay down the law to these two dangerous men. "If not... I will be forced to dispense with your services Will, and Chris - you will no longer be welcome here." The ultimatum was harsh and unexpected but it had the desired effect if the astonishment on the faces of the two Americans was to be believed. Neither man wanted to be kept away from Vin but Richardson was well within his rights to do so. "Now, let's put an end to this and shake on it like gentlemen."

They stared at the Englishman in utter disbelief but it was Will Tanner who held out his hand first.

"He's right, Larabee. Vin wouldn't want it either."

Nathan held his breath as he warily watched the gunslinger, fully expecting Chris just to turn around and walk away but he was wrong. The handshake was so brief that it could scarcely be called that but Ben seemed satisfied with the token gesture.

"Good. Now that's settled I think we could all do with a brandy." Crossing to the cabinet he poured drinks for them all and handed them round. "Gentleman, a toast to Vin's speedy recovery."

Nobody in the room was going to argue with that sentiment. It was what they all wanted and Richardson smiled, feeling quite pleased that he had achieved an easing of the tension and animosity between Chris and Tanner. He just prayed that it lasted.

The house was quiet and dark as a tall shape crept through the shadows across the top landing and paused at the head of the stairs, listening carefully for any other sound of movement. Hearing none the figure slowly descended the stairs, booted feet making very little noise on the boards.

A lamp was still alight on the table by the front door, the wick turned low, but there was still sufficient light for Chris Larabee to see where he was going. The household had been asleep for some time but the gunslinger was restless. He had lain on top of the bedcovers in the guest room fully clothed and dozed for about an hour but as the time had crawled past one o'clock in the morning he had got up, his footsteps taking him down to James Owen's room and Vin.

The study was in darkness but he could hear the faint snores coming from the sprawled figure on the couch to his left. However, light showed at the crack of the door leading through to the bedroom and he stepped softly forward, ,just standing and looking for a moment.

Nathan was sitting beside the bed, his back to the door and totally unaware of the gunslinger's presence and Chris watched as he leaned forward and laid his hand against Vin's brow. The tracker stirred slightly, turning his head away but Nathan soothed him with with a few murmured words.

"Nathan?" The quiet voice startled the healer and he swivelled in his chair as Chris stepped further into the room. "How's he doing?"

"Waal he's a mite feverish tonight," he replied, wringing a cloth out of the bowl on water on the bedside table and laying it across the young Texan's forehead once more. Chris swore under his breath as he looked down at Vin's flushed, pinched features. Dragging the other chair forward he sat down on the opposite side of the bed with a sigh, cursing his hasty words and rash comments of the previous afternoon.

"I knew it was a mistake coming back," he groaned softly. "I've done him more harm than good."

"Ya weren't t'know, Chris. This coulda happened any time after the operation." Nathan could see how dejected the gunslinger was so there was no point in telling him that his friend's slight relapse was probably due to the tearing of his stitches.

"Yeah - but it didn't. Dammit, I got angry with him, Nathan. Said some things I probably shouldn't. That's why he tried to get up." There was so much bitterness and self-reproach in Chris' voice as he reached out and touched Vin's cheek lightly, feeling the unnatural warmth beneath his fingers. "Maybe I should stay away."

"D'ya think he'd want that?" The healer shook his head. "Ya gotta let this go before it tears ya apart. The man's his pa. Vin's accepted it and ya gotta, too."

For a long moment Chris did not answer. "How can I?" he whispered eventually. "I just don't trust him. It's a gut feeling that won't go away."

"Don't ya think Vin woulda felt that too?" Nathan countered. "He's spent too long lookin' over his shoulder t'let his guard down for no reason. Don't ya trust his instincts anymore?"

"Normally I would but this ain't normal." The gunslinger dug his heels in, refusing to compromise. "He's just taking advantage of Vin while he's sick."

"How?" Nathan could not understand Chris' reasoning at all. "The man's jus' done everything a concerned father would." The healer hesitated, wondering whether he dare voice the suspicion in his mind. "Ya think he's after the reward, don't ya?" he continued, throing caution to the wind and he knew he was right when the gunslinger simply looked down at Vin. "Chris, he coulda took 'im any time! All he had t'do was lose Ben. The wanted poster says 'Dead or Alive' and it wouldn't've mattered either way to a bounty hunter!"

Chris knew that everything Nathan had just said was true but it did not take away the feeling of mistrust. However, that was only one part of the problem. Maybe Buck's comment warranted some consideration after all. 'You're afraid he's gonna take Vin away from you'. The gunslinger had laughed at that statement but perhaps he had been too hasty. Vin had been such an important part of his life for more than a year now - almost like his other half - and he was not ready to give that up willingly.

"I ain't askin' ya t'be Tanner's friend," Nathan said, cutting through the gunslinger's thoughts. "Jus' try an' tolerate him fer Vin's sake. All this fighting ain't gonna help his recovery none."

Chris nodded although it was not going to be easy to set aside everything his instincts told him. Sitting back in his chair he watched as Nathan moistened the cloth once more and replaced across Vin's forehead, seeing the way his sensitive fingers slipped down to check his pulse, and the gunslinger suddenly realised just how much they all owed this man. It was obvious how tired the healer was but as always he was prepared to put aside his own well-being for the sake of someone else.

"Y'know, I've never really thanked you, Nathan."

"What fer?" The healer glanced up in surprise. "Weren't jus' me. James did the operation."

"But you persuaded him. Vin woulda died without that. And it ain't just this time," Chris went on. "I guess we all take you for granted and we shouldn't. Hell, I wouldn't be having this conversation now if it weren't for you!"

Nathan had the grace to look embarrassed. Chris' reference to the serious illness he had contracted a few months ago brought back all the frustration and helplessness that the healer had felt at the time. He had been convinced that the gunslinger was going to die but with the help of Vin and Rain he had pulled Chris through the crisis.

"I don't need no thanks. I'm just glad I can help."

Nathan did not really need to think about that answer. It was exactly what he had attempted to tell James when he was trying to persuade him to operate. Doctor or healer - it did not matter which. The only thing that counted was having the power to help people and the courage and conviction to carry it through.

Vin's fever continued through the night long after Chris had reluctantly gone back to bed, finally breaking around noon of the following day. Nathan and James had taken it in turns to remain with him and although Tanner insisted he should be there as well both of them had been determined that the tracker would be better left undisturbed by any visitors, no matter who.

Chris remained, keeping away from Vin when he was awake through choice, unwilling to risk a further setback. However, that did not stop him sitting with the young tracker at other times, watching over him carefully when he slept. Will Tanner he chose to ignore completely and the Texan appeared to be doing the same with him, much to everybody else's relief. Amelia and Annie Roberts did their best to ensure that Vin remained comfortable, providing fresh bedding and clean nightshirts and a variety of light meals to tempt his returning appetite. Almost a week had passed since the operation and Vin was becoming anxious to get out of bed, and he voiced that opinion to James as the doctor was changing the dressing on his wound.

"Don't try to rush things," Owen admonished as he taped the new dressing in place. "It's healing quite nicely and I think we'll be able to take the stitches out in a few more days. Then we'll see about you getting out of bed."

Vin had no option but to agree. He had finally been told by James exactly what had been wrong with him and had even been shown a picture of an appendix in one of the Englishman's medical books. The tracker had been amazed that something so small could have caused so much pain and had near-fatal consequences. As the doctor packed away his things and straightened the blankets around him the Texan glanced across at the window as the late afternoon sun cast dappled shadows over the floor.

"Is Chris still here?" he asked suddenly and James looked up hesitantly.

"Yes. I don't think he's going anywhere until he knows you're okay."

Vin frowned, wondering why the gunslinger had not been to see him but he could make a very good guess as to the reason. Their last conversation had been far from pleasant and abruptly curtailed by his collapse as he lost his temper. He knew Chris would have blamed himself for that and he thought it might have driven him away again.

"He had a fight wit' my pa, didn't he?"

"Yes, Vin, he did." James Owen gave a heavy sigh as he sat down on the edge of the bed and regarded the man he was starting to think of as a friend rather than just a patient. "I think it's going to take him a long time to accept for who he says he is." Vin nodded nodded, wondering if Chris ever would. Somehow he doubted it. "It's funny though... " Owen's voice trailed off as his brow creased in cunfusion.

"What?"

"Well, we didn't want to tell you before... A few hours after we operated on you the ranch was attacked." James saw the tracker turn a little pale and he felt a chill run through him as his own fears from that night re-surfaced. However, he shook himself as Vin leaned forward expectantly, interested in what he had to say and he forced himelf on. "Chris thought they were just trying to scare us and hadn't been expecting so many people to be here."

"So what happened?"

"When they attempted to run the horses off your father went to stop them. He was lucky he was only hit in the leg. If Chris hadn't gone out and dragged him back he might have been killed."

"Chris? He what... ?" Vin sounded astonished. It was not the fact that Will Tanner had been wounded - it explained the limp that he had passed off simply as age - it was that Chris had effectively saved his life. It did not make any sense at all to the tracker and James could see his bewilderment.

"Didn't either of them tell you?"

Vin shook his head wordlessly, wondering just what was going on his friend's mind. "I want to see him."

"Who? You're father?"

"No. Chris."

"Maybe later. I think you need to get some rest now." James could see the weariness on the Texan's face but there was a determined set to his jaw and a steely resolve in the blue eyes.

"I'm fine. I need to see him now."

Owen knew that Vin was not going to settle until he had seen the gunslinger but he still put his own limitation on the visit.

"I'll go and find him. But it'll only be for a short while. Then you sleep - alright?"

"Ya know, ya sound jus' like Nathan!" Vin gave the Englishman a faint grin and James smiled in return. He could think of no higher compliment.

Chris Larabee knocked hesitantly on the bedroom door and then pushed it slowly open when he heard no sound from within.

James Owen had informed him of Vin's desire to see him when he had found him exercising one of Ben's mares in the main corral. At first he had been surprised and somewhat reluctant to respond to the tracker's wishes but in the end he had cleaned himself up and made his way through the house to the room.

Vin was slumped back against the pillows, his eyes tightly closed and apparently fast asleep and Chris felt a moment of disappointment tinged with the relief that he would not have to face his friend especially in liight of what had had happened last time. With a sigh he turned to leave.

"Sneaking out again, cowboy?"

Chris froze at the sound of a familiar voice and he swung back to see Vin smiling at him.

"Thought you were asleep," the gunslinger explained, stepping forward and resting his hands on the back of the chair beside the bed.

"Not anymore." In all honesty Vin had been convinced that Chris was not going to come and see him at all. It had to be at least an hour since he had asked James to find his friend and in the end he had just dropped into a tired doze. He regarded the gunslinger steadily and then indicated the chair. "Ya gonna stand there all day, Larabee?"

Chris could see the humour in the tracker's eyes, more like the Vin of old and he grinned as he slipped into the chair, encouraged by his friend's attitude.

"James told me I couldn't stay long," he warned but Vin waved his hand dismissively.

"He fusses 'nigh on as much as Nathan!" the young Texan replied although he was acutely aware of his own weakness. There was a long silence but this time it did not feel uncomfortable. Rather it was the familiatr silence of friends who had no need of words. It was Chris who spoke first, wanting to express his regret over their disagreement three days ago.

"Vin, about what I said - " He got no further as the tracker held up his hand and cut him off.

"Forget it. I ain't blaming ya fer what happened. I guess it's gonna take a while t'get used to... things."

Chris could feel himself relaxing at Vin's comments. The whole sorry situation had been playing on his conscience for the past few of days but now the guilt had been alleviated to a certain degree.

"Nathan says their gonna take your stitches out in a coupla days." The gunslinger keptthe conversation light. "Does that mean you'll be able to come back to town soon?" The sentiment behind the question was two-fold. Not only was Vin being missed in Four Corners but Chris wanted to put some distance between him and Will Tanner.

"Soon as I can get outta bed and sit a horse!" Vin stated fervently. He hated being cooped up inside for too long but he had the feeling that his freedom would be a little longer in coming. "Reckon Peso's gettin' as restless as me!"

Chris laughed. It was typical of Vin to think about his horse's well-being before his own but he knew the black gelding had been exercised recently by one of Ben Richardson's hands. The gunslinger's amusement was infectious and Vin laughed in return but stopped as it turned into a cough, and he immediately reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.

"Here – I’ll get that." Chris had seen the pained grimace on his friend's face as he stretched across and he picked it up and placed it in Vin's hand. The tracker nodded gratefully as he slaked his thirst and handed the glass back.

"So when were ya gonna tell me about the attack on the ranch?"

Chris almost dropped the glass, surprised by Vin's question. "Who told you about that?" he demanded.

"James. Why didn't you tell me?" There was no accusation in the Texan's voice, just natural curiosity knowing that Ben had had trouble in the past.

"There didn't seem any point in worrying you."

"Like there didn't seem any point tellin' me ya saved m'pa's life?"

Chris swore softly under his breath. It was the obvious question for Vin to ask but the gunslinger could not explain his actions of that night even to himself.

"Figgered he might've told you that himself." Chris deliberately evaded the question and Vin knew it.

"So did ya find out who it was?" the tracker went on, making a mental note to ask his father about the incident later.

"Not yet, but we've got a few ideas. Before I left town I was waiting for replies to some telegraph's Mary sent. Buck should have the answers by now."

Vin cursed the circumstances that prevented him from helping with the investigation but there was very little he could do about it. "Why don't ya head back t'town in the morning? See what else ya can find out?"

Chris cocked his head to one side and gave his friend a little half-smile. "You trying to get rid o'me, Tanner?"

"Nope." The tracker returned the grin but then he became serious. "I like these people, Chris. I wanna find out whos doin' this to 'em. Just wish there was summat I could do but I cain't."

"All you can do is get well. We'll do the rest."

Chris felt a little relieved by Vin's words. Much as he wanted to stay he was just as anxious as the tracker to find out who was behind all the trouble that the Richardson's had encountered so far. However, he was also very pleased that he and Vin seemed to have resolved some of their differences and repaired a few of the sagging fences. He could return to town in a much more positive frame of mind.

+ + + + + + +

Chris and Nathan were ready to leave after breakfast the following morning. The healer felt that he had been away from town long enough and he had no reservations about leaving Vin in James care. Neither did Chris now; he had said his farewell to the tracker earlier that morning and promising to return soon, hopefully with some information regarding the attack on the ranch and who was behind it. It was a reluctant leavetaking but they both knew that there were things that needed to be done. Ben, Amelia and James were on the front porch to see them off and Nathan held his hand out to the young doctor.

"I hope we can get together real soon," the healer said, admiration for the Englishman evident in his voice.

"I'd like that. Hopefully the circumstances will be a lot different." James would be the first to admit that he had benefitted from the healer's knowledge of herbal lore as much as Nathan had from his practical expertise. "Thank you again for making me believe in myself. I know I couldn't have done it without your help."

Nathan looked a little embarrassed, but he was also very flattered. It was praise that he never thought he would have heard from a medical man.

"Now don't forget our invitation. It's less than two weeks to Christmas now." Amelia looked up earnestly at the gunslinger. She was determined that this year, their first in the New World, would be a Christmas to remember.

"I ain't making no promises, ma'am, what with everything that's been going on. It just might not be possible." Chris tried his best to find a plausible excuse.

"We'd really like you all to come. Mary and Billy are looking forward to it, and I'm sure Vin will still be here, if James has anything to do with it. We'd like to spend this first Christmas with all our new friends."

The gunslinger glanced at Ben for help, but Richardson just shrugged. He had learned long ago never to argue with Amelia when she had her heart set on something.

"We'll see." Chris gave her one of his most disarming smiles, and Amelia could feel herself blushing. "Thanks for your hospitality, ma'am," he said, and then turned to Ben, holding out his hand. "I'll let you know as soon as we find anything, but in the meantime just be on your guard."

"We always are."

As Chris and Nathan climbed onto their horses the gunslinger took a last lingering look back at the house. Whilst he knew that Vin would be well looked after he still felt a sense of misgiving knowing that Tanner would be a constant presence at the ranch. Amelia saw the anxious frown on his face and she stepped forward to the edge of the porch.

"Don't worry about Vin. He'll be just fine."

"Yes, ma'am." Chris touched his hat politely before looking back at Richardson. "We'll see you soon." Pulling the black gelding around the gunslinger nudged it into a trot, Nathan right beside him. As they passed under the archway Will Tanner appeared, nodding to both men as they rode through.

It took a supreme effort for Chis to resist the urge to look back at the Texan's smiling face and he felt a sudden surge of anger. Despite what everyone else thought of him, despite Vin apparently accepting him as his father, he would never be able to trust this man.

He could only hope that for Vin's sake his instincts would prove to be wrong just this once.

Part Five

Amelia Richardson was the first out of the front door to greet the guests, Charles Roberts close behind her, as Mary stopped the buggy at the edge of the porch with Chris and the other five peacekeepers ranged alongside it.

"I'm so glad you all came!" she exclaimed excitedly as Billy Travis scrambled down from his mother's buggy, and she leaned down so that she was on the boy's level. "Edward and Emily are waiting inside and I think they might have a little surprise for you. If you follow Charles he'll show you where they are."

Billy looked at his mother as Ezra helped her down from the buggy and she nodded approvingly.

"Come along, young man. Let's see what we can find." Roberts smiled as he held his hand out to Billy and led him into the house. The rest of the peacekeepers dismounted as Ben came from the main barn to join them.

"Hello, Chris," he said clasping the gunslinger's hand warmly. "Glad you could make it."

"Well, it was pretty quiet in town and the boys figgered they deserved a break, so... " Chris shrugged. It had taken a lot of persuasion from the rest of the peacekeepers to convince him that he would enjoy himself. Only Buck suspected the real reason for his reluctance; the gunslinger had not celebrated Christmas as such since the deaths of Sarah and Adam and his normal way of dealing with the holiday was to get so drunk that he did not remember anything. In the end it was Billy Travis' enthusiasm that had finally made him relent even though it was a painful reminder of his own son's excitement at the festive season.

"Besides, we can't let Vin have all the fun, can we?" Buck made the comment as he came up beside Chris and held his hand out to Richardson. "Howdy, Ben."

"So how is Vin?" Nathan wanted to know.

"Improving every day," Amelia replied. "Although he will try to do more than he should. I suppose you know all about that, Nathan."

"Only too well, ma'am!" the healer agreed with a smile.

"At least James managed to convince him to get some rest this afternoon. I think he's probably still asleep at the moment."

Mary had been standing quietly looking around the place as the others talked. She could remember the ranch as it was when old Macready had owned it and how he had let it fall into disrepair, and she was amazed by the transformation that had been wrought in a few short months.

"You've certainly done wonders with the place," she enthused, and Amelia smiled with a touch of pride.

"Wait til you see inside," she said, slipping her arm through Mary's. "Come along. Let me show you where you and Billy will be sleeping." As the two women entered the house chatting animatedly, Ben rolled his eyes skyward.

"Oh Lord!" he groaned. "They'll be talking chintz and lace all evening now!" The peacekeepers laughed at his mournful expression but they could understand exactly what he meant. "I can't offer you anything as fancy as the guest room," he continued. "But I think you'll find the bunkhouse clean and comfortable enough. Come on, let's get these horses seen to and then I think a warming drink before supper would be a very good idea."

There were murmurs of appreciation from the six men as Ben grasped the bridle of the buggy horse, and he grinned as he led it into the barn. It looked as though the holiday was getting off to a good start.

After a quick tour of the house and having admired the festive greenery that adorned the walls and staircase, Mary was talking with Amelia in the entrance hall as Ben ushered the six Americans in. He barely had time to close the front door before Billy erupted from the drawing room, his face flushed with excitement.

"Chris! Chris! You gotta come see this!" The boy grabbed hold of the gunslinger's hand and dragged him through the double doors before he could protest, Buck and the others on his heels. "Look!" Chris followed the excited youngster's pointing finger, although it was totally unnecessary.

"Wow!" The gunslinger glanced round at JD's awed face, but he had to agree that 'wow' was probably the best comment. It was certainly an impressive sight. The pine tree standing in the far corner dominated the entire room, its tip almost touching the ceiling. Every branch was decorated with brightly coloured ribbons and small china baubles and strings of nuts and chrystallised fruit were hung all around it.

"Look at all the presents!" Billy could hardly contain himself. "There's even some for me!"

"Which you will not be opening until tomorrow morning, young man!" Mary stated firmly.

"Aw ma!"

Chris laughed and ruffled the blond hair. "I'm sure you can wait a few more hours," he told the disappointed boy. "They ain't gonna go anywhere."

Buck had been watching Chris anxiously. His had been the main voice of persuasion regarding the Christmas invitation and he was hoping that he had not made a mistake, but he was pleased to see that the gunslinger appeared quite relaxed. Then his gaze was drawn to the sofa in front of the fire and his smile broadened when he saw the trim figure of Constance Bartlett sitting there. Running his fingers through his hair and brushing some of the dust from his jacket Buck stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Why Miss Bartlett, you're looking particularly lovely this evening."

Constance looked up over the rim of her spectacles and raised one eyebrow as though she were confused. "Thank you... Mr Wilmington, isn't it?"

"I'd be happier if you called me Buck," the ladies man told her, his voice soft and low.

"I hardly think that would be proper, Mr Wilmington. I barely know you."

"Then maybe we ought to take steps to remedy that." Without waiting for an invitation Buck settled himself beside her on the small sofa, smiling as the woman shifted a little further away.

"Look! I'm making declarations!"

Buck felt a sudden sharp tug on his pants leg and he glanced down to see the Richardson's two children industriously constructing paper chains.

"You mean 'decorations', Emily." Edward waved a brushful of flour and water paste at his sister as he did his best big brother act. "And you're doing it all wrong!"

"Am not!" Emily told him defiantly, liberally spreading paste across her piece of paper and the hearth rug.

"Perhaps Mr Wilmington can help you, my dear." Constance flung the gauntlet in Buck's direction, and his smile wavered a bit as an eager young face looked up at him. This was not exactly the kind of evening he had had in mind.

Across the room JD watched as Buck made his move on Constance, and he shook his head in amusement.

"He just never gives up, does he?"

"Mr Wilmington does so love a challenge," Ezra said as he accepted a glass of brandy from the tray that Roberts offered around.

"That might be, but I think he may have met his match." Josiah took a sip of his large whiskey but his eyes twinkled with amusement as he gestured towards the sofa, and JD could not hold back the laugh. Buck had a long strip of paper chain stuck to either side of his moustache, and Emily Richardson was carefully pasting another piece to his forehead.

"My, my. He certainly does have a way with the ladies!" Ezra raised his glass in silent salute to his long-suffering friend.

Over by the window Nathan and James were engrossed in an animated conversation about antiseptics, so it was Chris who spotted Vin first. The gunslinger was standing in the middle of the room talking with Mary, Ben, and Amelia, but they had their backs to the double doors and did not see the tracker as he hesitated at the bottom of the stairs in the hall outside. Chris could see the uncertainty on his friend's face; the volume of noise within the drawing room had steadily increased and he knew instinctively that Vin was about to turn and retreat back upstairs.

"Excuse me." The gunslinger interupted Ben mid-sentence. "I'll be back in a moment."

It was fully dark when Vin awoke and even through the closed door he could hear the faint murmur of voices downstairs. He had been looking forward to seeing all his friends again and he was glad that James had insisted that he get some rest before they arrived. The tracker was still surprised how quickly he tired but at the moment he felt quite refreshed.

Swinging his legs off the bed he reached down carefully to pull his boots on, pausing momentarily as the healing scar gave a faint twinge. He still had to be a little cautious about how he moved but on the whole he was having no trouble. Climbing to his feet he left the room making his way to the top of the stairs, but a sudden burst of laughter from below made him hesitate. Vin was naturally shy, and even though he knew all the people who were assembled in the drawing room he was still apprehensive about being amongst such a large crowd.

Taking a deep breath the young Texan forced his legs to move, coming down slowly until he reached the last but one step. The doors to the drawing room were open and he could see Chris Larabee standing inside talking to Ben, Amelia, and Mary Travis. For a brief moment he considered going back upstairs to the quiet haven of his room but then the gunslinger suddenly looked in his direction and he waited, knowing what Chris' next move would be. He was not disappointed.

He saw Chris move away from the others, a smile on his face as he stepped out into the hallway, stopping at the foot of the stairs and resting his hand casually on the balustrade.

"Hey, pard. Glad to see you finally up and about."

"Figgered it was about time. Reckon I'd bin lyin' around long enough." The tracker returned the smile and then looked past Chris at the crowded drawing room. "Surprised to see ya here, cowboy. Didn't reckon this was yer kinda thing."

"Ain't yours either," the gunslinger returned. "Looked you were gonna turn and bolt a minute ago."

"Thought about it," Vin admitted with a wry smile. "Ain't used t'these fancy occasions."

"Then I guess we'll both have to grin and bear it. We ain't gotta lot of choice." Chris could understand his friend's reluctance; apart from himself and Nathan, it had been almost three weeks since the others had seen him and he was going to be the centre of attention, no matter how hard he tried to blend into the background. It was a situation that Vin would not be at all comfortable with.

Before the tracker could say anything else Charles Roberts came along the corridor from the kitchen carrying two large pitchers. Behind him, Annie held a tray of small earthenware goblets, and they paused beside the two Americans.

"I trust you are well rested, Vin? Are you gentlemen going to join the rest of the party for a Christmas toast?"

Vin grinned at the butler and his wife. Over the past few weeks he had got to know them very well, in particular Annie Roberts who seemed to have taken him completely under her wing. The tracker eyed the jugs curiously, his sensitive nose detecting the smell of wine combined with some aromatic spices.

"What'cha got there?" he asked, forgetting his shyness for a moment.

"It's mulled wine." Seeing the puzzled expression on both of their faces the Englishman went on to explain. "It's a traditional Christmas drink in Great Britain. Red wine flavoured with cloves and cinnamon and other spices, and heated through with a red hot poker." To their surprise Roberts gave a knowing wink. "Very warming."

"Sounds kinda interesting." Chris gave a broad grin and looked expectantly at Vin. "Care to join me?"

"Guess so."

The two men waited until Roberts and his wife had entered the drawing room, distracting nearly everybody as Ben Richardson announced the arrival of the mulled wine. However, Mary had been observing Chris as he spoke with Vin, a smile on her lips as the two friends followed the butler and the housekeeper into the room.

"Vin, how are you?" There was no disguising her delight as she regarded the tracker. Although she had been told that he was on the mend she was amazed at how well he actually looked. His hair was clean and neatly combed and the crisp white shirt - one of James' best - disguised his still pale complexion. However, the sparkle in his blue eyes was undiminished as he glanced nervously around the room.

"Better, thank you, Mary."

"We've all missed having you around town." The woman looked pointedly at Chris but the gunslinger made no comment.

"Hey, Vin! Good to see ya!" JD's exuberant greeting caused every head to turn in the tracker's direction. Vin felt a touch overwhelmed at the sudden attention but he was relieved that only JD and Ezra had come across to talk to him. The gambler handed a goblet of the mulled wine to Mary and then held another out to Vin.

"I'm not sure that you should be having this in your convalesent state," he remarked with a smile. "But it is the festive season after all." Vin accepted the goblet and took a sip of the warm, heady wine.

"So where's mine?" Chris demanded indignantly.

"I would like to point out, Mr Larabee, that I only have one pair of hands."

"Sure don't look that way when you're dealing the cards, Ezra," Chris stated lightheartedly, and everybody laughed.

Vin could feel himself starting to relax a bit. This was not turning into the ordeal that he had been imagining all day, but he was glad that he had had the chance to speak to Chris first. As he took another sip of the warm, aromatic wine he found himself laughing as he caught the tail-end of one of JD's jokes and he realised just how much he had missed this easy companionship between the seven of them. Maybe he would enjoy the next few days after all.

By the time Roberts announced that the supper buffet was ready Vin had had the opportunity to speak to each of his friends. Only JD had brought up the subject of Will Tanner, admitedly out of Chris' earshot, and he had expressed surprise at the man's absence. Vin could not hide his disappointment as he explained that although Ben had invited the other Texan he had declined. However, Will had promised to join them for dinner on Christmas day.

As everybody followed their hosts through to the dining room, Amelia's careful planning was once more in evidence. The large table was already set for tomorrow's breakfast but tonight's buffet was laid out on the sideboard against the end wall. A whole ham took pride of place in the centre, honey-glazed and studded with cracked peppercorns with a large joint of beef beside it.

As Roberts carved off more of the ham and beef the guests helped themselves to the various savoury tartlets and pastries and the fillets of smoked trout. The conversation died away as people sat around the room, enjoying the festive fare. Buck had found an empty chair beside Constance, and was still persisting in his attempts to flatter and talk to her.

"It's a real fine spread the Richardson's have put on," Josiah said as he sat down next to Vin, carefully balancing his filled plate.

"A veritable feast," Ezra agreed, standing in front of his two friends. "Although you appear to be eating quite frugally, my friend." He made the observation as he looked down at the tracker's half empty plate.

"I ain't that hungry. Reckon I've been gettin' too much of this fine food lately." The Texan grinned, recalling Mrs Roberts efforts to tempt him with all manner of delicacies as he recovered from the operation. "If I stay here much longer I'll get as fat as an ox!" Ezra and Josiah laughed, hardly able to imagine an extra ounce of fat on the lean tracker.

"So when d'you think you'll be back?" the ex-preacher asked, and Vin shrugged.

"I was kinda hoping to come back wit' you guys after the holiday. 'Course, that's if James'll let me. He fusses worse'n Nathan!"

"Surely that is impossible!" Ezra exclaimed, knowing the healer's tendancy to act like a mother hen at times.

"Nope. Ya shoulda heard him when he caught me exercising Peso!" That was a few days ago and it was the first time Vin had seen James Owen angry even though he had only been riding the black gelding around the corral. The tracker had just wanted to find out if he could do it but he had not let the Englishman see how much it had taken out of him.

"Maybe he thought you were trying to rush things." Josiah raised an eyebrow as he glanced sideways at the young tracker. He knew how much Vin hated being cooped up too long in one place and he guessed that he was starting to feel restless.

Vin did not answer; whilst he was grateful to the Richardson's and James for his care, all he really wanted to do was get back to town.

With supper over Amelia decided that it was time for the children to go to bed, much to their dismay. Billy was hoping that he would be allowed to stay up longer but Mary made it quite clear that he was not going to be treated any differently.

Once the three woman had taken the children out the men adjourned once more to the drawing room and Ben offered round the port, brandy, and cigars. Both JD and Vin declined the latter, and James warned the tracker away from both strong liquors, allowing him instead another small goblet of mulled wine.

Vin was not particularly bothered. He was feeling extremely tired and as he sank down onto the sofa before the roaring fire he wondered how much longer he would be able to keep his eyes open. Leaning back with a contented sigh he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the voices of his friends drift over his head.

"Vin? Are you alright?"

The tracker startled awake as a hand touched his arm lightly and he glanced round in surprise at Mary as she sat beside him. He had not even been aware that he had fallen asleep. Sitting up a little straighter he gave her a faint smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You look really tired." Once she had tucked Billy into bed Mary had come back down whilst Amelia and Constance bathed Emily and Edward. She had been looking for a chance to speak to Vin on his own all evening and when she had spotted him sitting by himself in front of the fire she had thought that would be the ideal opportunity. However, she had not expected him to be asleep nor to look so exhausted and she had been a little concerned.

"Must be this wine," Vin lied stoicly, eyeing the barely touched goblet on the table beside him. "So - is Billy abed?"

"Yes. He's had a pretty busy day." Mary smiled softly, staring into the flickering flames. "I remember how excited I used to get when I was his age. It always felt as though Christmas morning would never come."

"Don't remember much about Christmas when I was a little fella," Vin said wistfully. "Didn't have much call for it when I was older, neither."

Mary turned and looked at him hearing the sadness in his voice, and she just wanted to reach out and hug him, to comfort him like she would Billy.

"It must feel very strange to suddenly discover you have a father," she went on.

"Yes, ma'am. It is," he said quietly and a shy smile lit up his face. He still could hardly believe it himself but over the past few weeks he had spent many hours talking to his father and getting to know him. At times he had felt like a starving man, hungrily devouring every morsel of information that Will Tanner offered him. "But it feels pretty good, too."

"I'm really pleased for you, Vin." Mary could see the happiness on his face as he spoke, and she placed her hand over his and squeezed gently. A sudden shadow flickered across the tracker's face and he found himself looking towards the christmas tree where Chris was talking with Ben and James.

"I jus' wish everybody felt the same way," he said softly and Mary followed his gaze but she did not need to ask who he was referring to.

"You've got to give him time. It's probably just as hard for him as it is for you."

"I don't think time's gonna make a whole heap of difference. I cain't understand why he's so dead set against him."

"He's afraid, Vin. Afraid that it's going to change things between you."

"That ain't gonna happen," the Texan stated vehemently, but Mary knew that it already had.

"So what does your father intend to do?" Mary decided it would be best to change the subject slightly. "Is he staying on here, or will he be living in town?"

"I dunno." Vin blinked in surprise. He had not given the future much thought; he was simply content with the present. "We ain't really talked about that. I guess he'll stay on with Ben for a while."

"I hope so. At least you'll be able to see him quite often." Mary fell silent for a moment, wondering exactly what the future did hold for Vin and his father. The Richardson's seemed quite settled now and she hoped that Will Tanner would stay with them. She could not begin to imagine how Chris would react if the man left and Vin went with him. "Maybe you can - " She stopped as Vin gave a huge yawn and he flushed with embarrassment.

"Sorry, Mary," he apologised with a sheepish grin. "Guess I must be more tired than I thought."

"Then maybe it's time ya got some rest. It's gonna be a long day tomorrow."

Vin glanced around guiltily as Nathan spoke. The healer had been observing him for a while, watching as he dozed on the sofa and he had been on the verge of waking him up before Mary came in and spoke to him.

"Reckon yer right," Vin agreed as he pushed himself to his feet and he was grateful for Nathan's steadying hand under his elbow as the room suddenly lurched.

"Y'alright? D'ya need a hand?" the healer asked as Vin scrubbed wearily at his eyes.

"No, I'll be alright. G'night, Mary." As the tracker started to leave, he could feel someone watching him and he glanced round to meet Chris' concerned hazel gaze. The gunslinger's eyebrows were raised in question.

You alright?

Yeah, cowboy. See ya in the morning.

Vin gave a lopsided grin as he left. He was so tired that climbing the stairs was an effort but he had enjoyed the evening. When he reached his room he had to smile. Annie Roberts had obviously been busy. A lamp burned on the bedside table and the fire had been banked up in the grate, taking the chill off the room. The sheets had been turned down and there was a jug of home-made lemonade on the side with a glass next to it.

Dropping onto the edge of the bed Vin drew his boots off and poured himself a glass of the refreshing drink. He took a couple of sips and then flopped back against the pillows, closing his eyes with a weary sigh. Suddenly a soft tapping on the door disturbed him as he started to drift off and he cursed under his breath. Forcing his tired body up he padded across the floor and pulled the door open.

"Not disturbing ya, am I?"

"No. Come on in." Vin smiled as Will Tanner stepped into the room.

"I ain't gonna stay long, but I just wanted to see ya before ya turned in."

"I was kinda hopin' ya'd a-been by earlier." The tracker's tone was slightly admonishing but Tanner just shook his head.

"Figgered ya'd want to spend some time wit' yer friends. I know ya ain't seen 'em fer a while. Besides, we'll have plenty o'time to talk tomorrow." Will smiled and clasped the younger man's shoulder. "It's the first time in many a long year that I've looked forward to Christmas day."

Vin did not know how to answer that but his smile said it all even though he was a little concerned.about his father and Chris sitting down at the same table.

"I know you and Chris don't see eye to eye but... "

"Don't ya worry, son," Will said placatingly. "I can understand how yer friend feels. Hell, I'd probably feel the same. But I ain't about to cause a fuss."

Vin smiled gratefully and gave a relieved sigh but the sigh turned into another yawn and Tanner laughed out loud.

"Looks like I'm keeping ya up, boy. Why don't ya get some sleep? I'll see ya tomorrow. Merry Christmas, son."

Will left without waiting for a reply and Vin turned out the lamp as he slipped out of his shirt and pants and climbed into bed. For a while he lay in the darkness, listening to the muted voices downstairs and content just to let the peace of the season steal over him.

"Merry Christmas, pa," he whispered and he closed his eyes, a faint smile curving his lips as he drifted off to sleep.

+ + + + + + +

Christmas Day dawned cold and bright as Josiah Sanchez came from the bunkhouse and paused for a moment to breathe in the crisp morning air. Apart from Nathan and JD his fellow peacekeepers were still sleeping soundly. It was a well known fact that Ezra did not rise early but it had been a late night for all of them and the alcohol had flowed freely thanks to the generosity of the Richardsons. Buck was snoring fit to wake the dead whilst Ezra seemed to be cocooned in a tangle of blankets and Chris had simply collapsed fully clothed and face down on his bunk without a care in the world. Will Tanner had also spent the night in the bunkhouse but he had risen and was gone even before Josiah was up. The ex-preacher smiled to himself. There was going to be more than one sore head when the others finally awoke.

As he wandered across to the main house he was deep in thought. The previous night Ben Richardson had asked him to conduct a simple service in the parlour to celebrate Christmas and he was trying to find the right words to suit everybody. Stepping onto the porch he was surprised when the front door was suddenly opened and Mary Travis stepped out, a shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders against the chill.

"Good morning, Josiah," she greeted. "Merry Christmas to you."

"Morning, Mary. I didn't expect to see you up so early."

The woman laughed. "I didn't have much choice. You know how children are. Billy's been awake for an hour or more and he refused to go back to bed."

"So where is he now?"

"He's probably sitting by the tree with Emily and Edward, but I told him he couldn't have any presents until he was washed and dressed and had his breakfast!"

"That sounds like a fine idea - especially breakfast." Josiah was a man who enjoyed his food, and he grinned. "I don't think the Lord would want me to celebrate this day of all days on an empty stomach. Will you be attending the service?"

"Of course. Both Billy and I will be there." She glanced across at the bunkhouse. "Will any of the others be joining us?"

"Well, Nathan and JD are up so I reckon they'll be there. As for the others... I think it's safe to say they've had more than their fair share of Christmas spirit already!" They both laughed, knowing just how much alcohol had been consumed the previous evening.

"I know what you mean," Mary said. "When I saw Doctor Owen a little while ago he definitely looked a little the worse for wear!" Josiah smiled and offered Mary his arm.

"Shall we go in out of the cold? I'm sure breakfast must be nearly ready."

After the family and those guests who were up and about had breakfasted, they moved through to the small parlour next to the dining room for the simple service. Roberts had arranged the chairs into three neat rows, and as Amelia sat down at the front with the two children between her and Ben she could not help comparing it to the last Christmas they had spent in England. If they had still been in Liverpool they would have been attending the local church about now, but this felt more personal.

Glancing round she smiled as Mary, Billy, and Constance Bartlett sat down behind them, and beyond them she could see JD and Nathan and a rather sorry-looking James. Everybody else was conspicuous by their absence.

"I'd like to start with a reading from Matthew, Chapter 2, Verse 11." All eyes turned to Josiah as he stood before them, his bible in his hand. "'And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.'" Closing his bible Josiah looked at the small congregation. "On this special day we celebrate the birth of our Lord, and remember the gifts given to Him by the wise men by giving and receiving ourselves."

At the same time that Josiah was starting his sermon downstairs Vin had just got out of bed. Crossing over to the washstand he poured some lukewarm water into the basin and scrubbed his face thoroughly. Pulling on his pants, boots, and a clean blue shirt he made his way downstairs in search of breakfast.

The smell of cooking seemed to fill the house and his stomach grumbled in anticipation. So much had happened the previous night that he been unable to appreciate the supper provided by the Richardsons, and this morning he was hungry. When he entered the dining room he was surprised to find it deserted except for one of the young serving girls who was busy making sure the table was perfect for dinner.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted cheerfully, folding napkins and placing them into wine glasses. "I'm afraid you've missed breakfast."

"What time is it, Jane? Where is everybody?"

"It's a little after ten, sir, and Mr Sanchez is conducting a service in the parlour."

"Oh." Vin was disappointed. He could not believe that he had slept so late. He was usually an early riser but the excitement of last night must have tired him more than he realised.

"I'll tell Mrs Roberts you're up," Jane told him. "I'm sure she'll be able to fix something for you."

"Thanks."

Once the girl had left Vin went over to the door leading through to the parlour and pushed it carefully open, slipping inside and standing at the back. Only Josiah saw him; everybody else had their heads bowed as they recited the Lord's Prayer.

"Amen."

"Christmas is a time for sharing with those we love," Josiah intoned. "It is also a time for peace and understanding, no matter how difficult that might be at times." The ex-preacher looked directly at Vin as he said that. "There is no greater gift in this world than that of family or friend."

The words hit home and Vin knew they were directed at him when he saw the half-smile on Josiah's face. He gave a tight nod in return but deep down inside he wished that Chris had been in the room to hear them as well. It was a thoughtful tracker who crept out of the room in search of breakfast.

"Have some more bacon, Vin."

Annie Roberts pushed the dish across the table and Vin helped himself to several more slices of the crispy, fried ham that the housekeeper called bacon. Over the past few weeks he had aquired a real liking for this unusual way of cooking ham and it went very well with the lightly scrambled eggs.

"Ya know summat, Annie? I'm really gonna miss ya cookin' when I go back to town."

"Well you're not going to stay away, are you? You know you'll always be welcome here."

"Know that," the young Texan agreed. "Besides, my pa'll still be working for Ben, so I'll always be back t'see 'im."

Annie smiled as she turned back to the pile of vegetables that needed to be prepared. She had grown quite fond of this quiet, shy young American and she was going to miss having him about the place. Vin popped another piece of the crispy bacon into his mouth and then looked up as the kitchen door opened and he had to grin at the sight of a bleary eyed Chris Larabee as he dropped into a chair with a groan. The gunslinger's clothes were creased and rumpled and it was obvious he had slept in them.

"Merry Christmas, cowboy. Good night was it?"

Chris winced, lowering his head into his hands. Vin was too loud, too cheerful, and too damn bright for him to cope with this morning.

"What I can remember of it," he mumbled.

"Good morning, Mr Larabee." Annie Roberts recognised all the signs of a king-sized hangover and she smiled. "Would you like some coffee? Breakfast?"

"Just coffee, ma'am." Chris did not think that his queasy stomach would be able to deal with anything else at the moment.

"Ya wanna try some o'this, Chris." Vin waved a forkful of bacon under the gunslinger's nose, a wicked smile on his face. "It's really good ya know."

"You really wanna get shot, Tanner?" Chris looked up and glared at his friend as Vin crammed the bacon into his mouth with a smug grin. "You carry on like that an' Peso's gonna wonder where all the extra weight's come from!"

"Ya sayin' I'm getting fat, cowboy?" Vin looked down at his middle in mock indignation.

Annie Roberts smiled as she placed the cup of coffee down in front of Chris Larabee. It was the first time she had witnessed their affectionate banter and the friendship between these two men was plain for all to see.

"He needs feeding up after all he's been through," the woman stated, and Chris rolled his eyes in disbelief. It looked as though Vin had made yet another conquest. The tracker just smiled and then they all heard the sudden delighted shrieks of children from the front of the house. "Sounds like the little ones have been given their presents," Annie observed and Chris stared down into his coffee cup, remembering past Christmas mornings with Sarah and Adam.

Vin saw the shadow that passed across his friend's face and he knew what he was thinking about, and the words of Josiah's sermon suddenly came back to him. 'Christmas is a time for sharing with those we love'. It was strange how their two lives had turned. In a sense it was the first Christmas that the gunslinger had celebrated in a family atmosohere since he had lost his own, and for Vin it was the first time he could really remember experiencing it with family. For a brief moment the young Texan felt a little guilty; he was starting to enjoy himself whereas for Chris the season would always be tinged with sadness.

"Ah, an island of tranquility away from the cacophony of over-exuberant children!"

Ezra Standish elbowed his way into the kitchen, his hands covering his ears in an exagerated display of discomfort.

"Too noisy for ya, Ezra?" Vin asked with a guileless smile. He guessed that the gambler too had made free with the brandy the night before.

"I believe that is what I just infered, Mr Tanner," the Southerner replied, taking the empty seat beside Chris.

"What's the matter, Ezra? I thought you liked kids?" the gunslinger commented with a grin.

"Not when three sound like a hundred and three!" he stated emphatically, gratefully accepting the coffee that Annie Roberts handed to him and he gave her a charming smile. "Dear lady, you are a lifesaver!"

The housekeeper turned back to her work, happy to let the three friends sit and talk for a while. However, much as she enjoyed having the attractive young Americans in her kitchen she knew they would prove to be too much of a distraction for herself and the two girls and they did have a lot to do before dinner would be ready. In the end she had no alternative but to shoo them out.

As she turned back to the range and basted the turkey once more, Annie Roberts could not help thinking that this was going to be a very different Christmas for all of them, but different in a pleasant way.

Christmas dinner was served promptly at two o'clock.

Once again Amelia's thoughtfulness showed in the careful way she had arranged the placement of people around the large oak table. She had ensured that Vin was seated next to his father, with Chris directly opposite the tracker out of Tanner's direct line of sight. Buck was next to the gunslinger and in a moment of romantic inspiration she had contrived to place Constance Bartlett beside the ladies man! She was aware that Buck found the governess attractive and intriguing and she was not averse to helping the situation along.

As everybody filed into the dining room and were shown to their places by Roberts it was Josiah who stopped and looked Chris up and down.

"My, my, Chris. You do look dashing!"

Everybody was dressed in their best for the occasion, but the gunslinger had swapped his usual dark sartorial hue in favour of a crisp white shirt that was tucked into his black pants.

"'Elegant' is the word I would use, Mr Larabee."

Mary turned as Ezra spoke and she had to agree that Chris had never looked more handsome. His dark blond hair was freshly washed and neatly combed and a faint smile curved his lips as he regarded his fellow peacekeepers.

"Thank you, gentleman," he said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice as he sat down opposite the tracker noticing that even he appeared to have made more of an effort than usual. The blue shirt complimented his eyes perfectly, and he was extremely clean-shaven which made him look even younger than he was.

As the first course of freshly made vegetable soup was served, the conversation around the table remained light, mainly focussing on the three children and the presents they had received that morning.

Ezra was only half-listening to the various conversations going on around him, answering politely when he was spoken too, but for the most part he found himself in the unusual role of observer as he watched Chris and Will Tanner. He was intrigued how two men sitting across the table from each other and mainly talking to the same person could so blatantly ignore the others presence. The Southerner came to the conclusion that it was the only way they could deal with the difficult situation. Not even the wine that flowed copiously could unbend them.

The food was excellent; huge dishes of crisp, roasted potatoes, glazed carrots, peas, and winter greens were brought from the kitchen once the soup was finished, and there were various sauces and chestnut stuffing all cooked to perfection by Annie Roberts and her assistants. However, by the time Ben had carved the turkey and the beef for the main course, Vin was beginning to feel as though he were caught between a rock and a hard place. He was feeling a little uncomfortable trying to talk to both Chris and his father, whilst they studiously ignored each other.

The young tracker was heartily relieved when Roberts finally brought in the dessert, an enormous plum pudding which he placed on the table in front of Ben. Lighting a taper from one of the candles the butler touched it to the brandy-soaked pudding, and the whole thing burned brightly, but briefly, with a clear blue flame. There were squeals of awe and delight from the children and even Vin was impressed, the blazing dessert a welcome distraction from his careful balancing act.

The plum pudding was served with delicious brandy butter, and by the time it had been consumed everybody was thoroughly replete. When Amelia announced that Roberts was serving the coffee and brandy in the drawing room, there was a collective sigh of relief from the satisfied guests.

It was almost four o'clock now and the sky was beginning to darken outside but the drawing room was cosy and warm. Lamps and candles illuminated every corner, and a fire blazed cheerfully in the hearth as people took either a cup of coffee or a glass of brandy and found themselves somewhere to sit and relax after the enormous dinner. While the adults passed the time in idle conversation the three children were sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, playing with some of the toys they had opened that morning but after a while they began to get restless. The peace of the afternoon was finally broken when Emily decided she wanted the brightly painted wooden locomotive that Billy had received from his mother. Naturally the boy would not give it up, and Emily grabbed hold of it pulling hard. Eventually Billy let go and the little girl tumbled over backwards, and her wails of distress made everybody turn and look.

"It wasn't my fault, Ma," Billy said quickly, thinking he was about to get the blame as Amelia picked her daughter up.

"You didn't push her, did you?" Mary asked, but it was Constance Bartlett who replied.

"No, he didn't, Mrs Travis. I'm afraid Emily got a little over-zealous and wanted something she couldn't have."

Ben stepped over to where his wife sat on the sofa, Emily on her lap, and he ruffled the child's hair affectionately.

"That sounds like my little girl," he stated with a laugh. "Strong-willed just like her mother." Amelia looked up at that and gave her husband a fond smile. "How about some more presents?" the man continued, and Emily's tears were suddenly forgotten as she looked up at her father in excitement. "I won't be a moment."

Mary followed Ben from the room. She had a special present for Billy, one which she had held back once Amelia had told her that they always saved the children one gift for after dinner. Meanwhile, Emily had wriggled from her mother's lap and with all the guile of a female she had sat back beside Billy as though nothing had happened.

Mary was the first one back into the room, a brown paper wrapped parcel in her arms and she held the door open as Ben and Roberts struggled through, each carrying a large box. Ben placed his on the floor in front of Emily and then relieved the butler of his, setting it down before Edward.

"Merry Christmas, my darlings," Amelia said as Emily shrieked and began pulling at the flaps on the carton.

"Billy." Mary called her son over and he sat down beside her on the sofa. "This is from your Grandma and Grandpa. They're sorry they couldn't be with you for Christmas." She watched as Billy tore the paper off. The present had arrived just over a week ago on one of the regular stage runs along with one for herself, and she had kept it hidden until now.

"Look!" Billy let the paper slide to the floor as he held up the three beautifully bound books.

"What've you got there, son?" Josiah bent down as the boy leafed through the first book.

"They're from Grandma and Grandpa Travis. This one's got pictures of animals in it, but I don't know what they all are."

"Well, that's an elephant," Josiah said, pointing to one of the illustrations. "And that's a lion. He's called the King of the Beasts."

"What are the other books, Billy?" Mary was curious to know what else her in-laws had sent him. One turned out to be a volume of short stories complete with pictures, and the other was, quite appropriately, a Bible.

"Looks like you've got the start of a real fine library there," Josiah said approvingly. Billy smiled shyly up at him, but then his attention was drawn by Edward's excited shout as he finally pulled his present from the box. Carefully placing the books on the seat Billy hurried over to see what his new friend had.

"Ah, the fickleness of youth." Josiah gave Mary a wide grin as she scooped up the discarded books. "Not even the good Lord can compete with a fort and a whole regiment of toy soldiers!"

Edward may have extricated his fort from its box but Emily's small hands were having trouble with her gift and she was getting more frustrated by the second.

"Allow me, my dear." The child looked up at the softly spoken comment and found herself staring into a pair of intense green eyes. Ezra reached into the box and lifted the object out, setting it down carefully in front of Emily. "My, my. What have we here?"

"It's a house!" Emily squealed in delight, wondering how he could ask such a silly question.

"Of course it is. But what a house!" The gambler kneeled down beside the child and they studied the various rooms of the three storey house between them. It was Ezra who discovered the cleverly concealed catch which lifted up to allow the entire front of the house to open. "Well, now we can see what's inside."

As the Southerner named each room and the pieces of tiny furniture within it, Emily stared at him, more in awe of this man who seemed so knowledgeable than she was of the house itself. Ezra was so caught up in his descriptions that he was unaware that he was the subject of such serious scrutiny from the child's blue eyes until she slowly crept onto his lap. He blinked in sudden surprise but made no attempt to move her, and another unlikely friendship was formed.

Billy and Edward were far too engrossed in the fort to take notice of what anyone else was doing with the exception of JD, who was on his hands and knees helping the boys to arrange the soldiers into neat rows.

"This is great!" Billy enthused as he stuck the little flag pole, complete with flag, on the front rampart of the building. "Chris, come and see this!" The boy looked up, searching the room for the man in question, but the gunslinger was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Chris gone?" he asked, turning a puzzled face to JD. The young peacekeeper glanced around the room; Vin, Nathan, and Will Tanner were talking over by the window whilst Buck shared a joke with James and Ben, but Chris was definitely not there.

"I have no idea." He realised that with the present giving he had not noticed that Chris had slipped out, and apparently neither had anybody else. JD looked over at Vin once again, seeing the tracker smile in response to something his father had just said, and the young man wondered whether that was the reason for the gunslinger's unexplained absence. "I'm sure he'll be back in a little while," JD assured Billy. "Now show me again where this soldier goes," he added, trying to distract the boy from his disappointment. It worked for a while until Chris suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Billy."

It was softly spoken but the boy's head shot up as he heard his name, scrambling to his feet as the gunslinger beckoned him over.

Chris watched as the boy came across the room towards him and he saw Mary look round curiously to see where her son was going. As the youngster stopped in front of him the gunslinger reached down and picked up a large hessian wrapped package and held it out.

"Happy Christmas, Billy."

Billy instinctively took the parcel, a stunned expression on his face as he looked up at Chris.

"For me? What is it?"

The gunslinger smiled, his face alight with pleasure at the boy's surprise. "Open it an' see," he prompted. Billy duly sat down right in the doorway and proceeded to unwrap the gift.

"It's a boat!" he exclaimed as the sacking fell away. Jumping to his feet the young boy picked up his present and ran over to his mother. "Look, Ma! Look what Chris's got me! It's a boat." Billy squeezed in between his mother and Josiah, resting the carefully crafted vessel on his knees.

"That's not just any boat, son," Josiah said. "That's Noah's Ark."

"Noah?" Billy sounded puzzled as he looked around at his mother.

"Yes, you remember, Billy. It's in the Bible. Noah built an ark to save all the animals from the flood."

"Let's take a look inside." Josiah reached out and lifted the roof off of the ark to reveal a number of intricately carved animals. The ex-preacher had been the only one of the peacekeepers who had known Chris' secret. The gunslinger had started carving the animals whilst he had been making a slow recovery from his near-fatal illness less than four months ago. It had started as a means to while away the hours during his long convalescence, but it had turned into a major project and with Josiah's help he had managed to finish it just in time for Christmas.

Mary watched as Billy took some of the animals out and studied them closely and then she became aware that Chris was standing beside the sofa looking a touch uncomfortable.

"I wasn't sure if Billy was too old for something like that," the gunslinger said uncertainly, looking down as the boy turned the animals over in his hand.

"Oh, Chris, it's beautiful." Mary could feel herself getting a little choked up. She knew how much Billy idolised the gunslinger but she had not been aware just how fond Chris was of her son. The Ark was a labour of love and she knew Billy would treasure it because it came from Chris. Climbing to her feet she touched Chris lightly on the arm. "Thank you," she said and then surprised both herself and the gunslinger by kissing him quickly on the cheek. Chris smiled, his hazel eyes unreadable and Mary turned away flustered as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Billy, have you thanked Chris for the wonderful present?" she said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

Josiah took the ark as Billy clambered down, and Chris squatted down as the boy rushed forward and flung his arms around his neck.

"Thanks Chris."

The gunslinger blinked furiously as he hesitantly returned the hug. It had been a long time since he had felt like this at Christmas, and the touch of a child's arms around his neck brought back bitter-sweet memories. His emotions were very close to the surface.as he briefly closed his eyes and he could only manage a mumbled reply.

"You're very welcome, Billy."

Like JD, Buck had not realised that Chris had disappeared but he was certainly aware when he returned. He had seen Billy Travis run across the room clutching something in his arms and heard the child's excited voice as he told his mother of the gift. That caught and held Buck's attention and he took a step forward to get a clearer look.

"Sonofabitch!" he breathed as he recognised the object in Billy's hands. "So that's what he was doing," he murmured almost to himself, and he swallowed hard. The only other time Buck had seen an ark made by Chris was at the last Christmas the gunslinger had had with his family. He had made one just like that for his own son and the ladies man could still recall Adam's delight at the tiny wooden animals. Buck watched as Mary got up and kissed Chris briefly on the cheek and then he saw the poignant look on his friend's face as Billy threw himself into his arms, and he sighed. Could this be the start of the healing process for the gunslinger? Was he finally coming to terms with the death of his family? Buck could only hope.

"Buck? Are you alright?" Ben Richardson's question snapped him back to the present, and he looked at the two Englishman.

"Yeah, I'm fine. At least now I know what he was making all the time he was recovering." The other two men looked confused but it was James who asked the question.

"Recovering? Recovering from what?"

Buck went on to explain how the gunslinger had contracted a pneumonia-like illness that had almost claimed his life and how the combined efforts of Vin and Nathan had saved him. James listened with great interest, and he made a mental note to seek out Nathan and ask the healer for more details.

"Ben?" Amelia suddenly appeared at her husband's elbow. "I think it's about time." Ben looked at her and smiled in agreement.

"If you'll excuse us for a moment," he said to Buck and James as he followed his wife back across the room and opened the door of the large sideboard. He pulled out a number of packages and several envelopes which he placed on the top of the unit and then he cleared his throat.

"Ladies, gentleman," he called, pausing until the room fell silent and he had everyones attention. "I'd like to say, on behalf of all the family, how much we've enjoyed our first Christmas in this new land. We were unsure of the kind of reception we would receive, but you've all made us feel very welcome. Now I know you probably weren't expecting this, but Amelia and I have some gifts to give out as a token of our gratitude for all you've done."

There were murmurs of surprise from the assembled guests as Amelia picked up the first package and walked over to Mary.

"This is for you," she said, placing it in the newspaperwoman's hands. "My first friend since I arrived."

Mary blushed and stammered out her thanks as Ben called JD over and gave him a small flat package. Josiah was next, and he received one of the sealed envelopes.

"Josiah, this isn't strictly for you but we thought you might find it useful for the church." The ex-preacher opened the envelope in curiosity, and he shook his head in amazement when he saw five crisp ten dollar bills inside.

"This is indeed a generous gift, my friend. I'll use it wisely."

"Buck, Ezra, I've noticed you take great care in your appearance. We thought these might be appropriate." Amelia handed Ezra a small box which he carefully opened, his jaw dropping when he saw the mother-of-pearl inlaid cufflinks nestling on the dark blue silk.

"I am overwhelmed by your kindness, dear lady," the Southerner stated with a charming smile as he grasped Amelia's hand and kissed the back of it with a flourish.

"I couldn't have put it better myself!" Buck agreed, holding up the brightly coloured silk bandana and, not to be outdone, kissing the back of Amelia's other hand.

"Nathan, I believe James has something for you." Ben looked across at his brother-in-law, and the young man smiled as he stepped forward and picked up a large parcel about twelve inches square all round.

"I saw you admiring mine," James said as he handed it to Nathan. "So I thought you should have one of your own." The healer stood the object on the nearest table and peeled back the brown paper, lifting the lid of the wooden medical chest. A beaming smile lit up his face as his eyes took in the assortment of bottles and phials and other equipment contained within it. Turning to James, Nathan shook his head slowly.

"I couldn't possibly accept this," he breathed, but James laid his hand on the American's shoulder.

"Yes you can," he stated. "I can think of no worthier person than yourself."

As James and Nathan continued to examine the contents of the box, Ben looked first at Chris and then at Vin, noticing how reticent they appeared at the prospect of their gifts.

"You didn't think we'd forget you two, did you?" Ben was enjoying himself as Amelia brought the first present forward. "Do you have any idea how difficult it was to find something for you?" Richardson smiled at the gunslinger, and Chris gave a sheepish grin in return. "So we just settled on something we know you'd enjoy." Amelia handed the parcel over and then stood on tiptoe to kiss the gunslinger lightly on the cheek.

"As for you, my friend - " Ben looked at Vin, seeing the tracker shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I know the circumstances that forced you under our roof were far from pleasant for you, but we've enjoyed your company and we'll be sorry to see you leave."

"Merry Christmas, Vin," Amelia said as she gave him a flat parcel before kissing him on the cheek as well. The tracker blushed furiously, trying to ignore the snort of amusement from Chris.

"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, turning the package over in his hands.

"Go on, open it," she urged. Vin looked up once at the gunslinger's bemused face before tearing off the brown paper. There was a soft white linen shirt neatly folded, but laying on top of that was a small, plain dark-wood picture frame. The tracker picked it up and looked at in confusion.

"This is real nice, but I don't have anythin' t'put in it."

"Yes ya do, son." Will Tanner stepped forward and reached into his inside pocket. "This should fit jus' fine," he continued, holding out the battered photograph of the tracker's mother and grandfather.

"But... I can't. It means too much t'ya."

"That's why I'm giving it t'ya." Tanner placed his hands on Vin's shoulders and gave him an affectionate squeeze. "Merry Christmas, son."

The young Texan glanced down at the picture and then he looked steadily at his father, blue eyes meeting those of exactly the same colour.

"I ain't got nothin' t'give ya," he said apologetically, and he was surprised when the older man simply smiled.

"I'm lookin' at my gift. That's all I need, boy."

Vin did not reply as he felt the warmth of family wrap itself around him but then he glanced up sharply and looked across when he heard the loud snort of derision from Chris Larabee. For a brief moment their eyes locked and then the gunslinger turned away in disgust, leaving Vin saddened by the knowledge that the man whose friendship he treasured above all others would never accept Will Tanner as anything but an interloper.

Mary Travis had already unwrapped her gift, a beautiful cream silk shawl trimmed with gold thread, and had been watching as the peacekeepers received their presents. However, her enjoyment of the day had been marred by Chris' adverse reaction to Will Tanner's remarks to Vin. She had been aware of the animosity between the gunslinger and Tanner even though they had managed to get through the day by fastidiously ignoring each other, but now she had witnessed it firsthand.

She watched the gunslinger stalk away, tight-lipped and stiff as he grabbed another drink and sat down on a chair in the corner by the window, and she saw the dismayed expression on Vin's face as he glanced over at Chris. For a moment she thought that the tracker might go over and talk to him, but then Tanner draped an arm around his shoulders and led him in the opposite direction and Vin did not resist. With a heavy sigh Mary got up and walked across the room, stopping in front of the brooding gunslinger.

"Chris? Do you mind if I sit down?"

Chris looked up at her and then lowered his head again. "I ain't fittin' company at the moment, ma'am."

The use of the term 'ma'am' was a clear indication of Chris' mood, but if he thought she was going to be put off he was very much mistaken. She had seen a different side of Chris when he had been playing with Billy and the other children earlier on, but now it grieved her to see him so upset. Pointedly ignoring his comment she sat down in the empty chair next to him and considered her words carefully.

"Why can't you be happy for him, Chris?" she said eventually, realising that there was no point evading the issue. "Can't you see how much it means to him? Finding his father after all these years?"

Chris' fingers tightened around the glass until his knuckles went white and he tossed back the whiskey in one swift gulp before he replied.

"With all due respect, Mary, it ain't none of your business."

"Well I think it is!" The woman flushed angrily as she went on. "Whatever happens between you two is going to affect the town!"

"We're not that important. Buck and the others can handle things just as well without us." Chris did not see the look that passed across Mary's face at his words but he felt her hand on his forearm and he glanced up at her.

"Well you're both important to me. You're my friends and I'd hate to see this come between you."

The gunslinger gave a tight smile and his gaze wandered across to where Tanner was talking to Vin. "It already has," he said simply.

"It's not too late." The woman was almost pleading. "Vin's as upset about it as you are, but Will's his father."

"I'm sorry, Mary. I just can't accept that." Chris stood up and placed his glass on the window sill. "I need some air," he said and walked from the room.

Vin yawned as he spread the cards out in his hand and he glanced across at the long-case clock. It was nearly a quarter past nine and the busy day was finally catching up on him and he was wondering whether it would be considered too rude if he excused himself and went to bed.

"We keepin' ya awake, boy?" Will Tanner made the light-hearted comment as Ezra dealt another hand of poker and the young tracker gave a sheepish grin.

"Reckon I might turn in soon," he admitted as Josiah opened the betting.

The evening had passed quite quickly. A light supper had been laid out in the dining room and there was little formality, with people picking at the food as and when they wanted it. The three children had been put to bed about an hour ago, thoroughly exhausted by the excitement of the day, and the adults had finally relaxed. Amelia had taken it upon herself to teach Mary and Buck the finer points of Bridge with some help from Constance Bartlett, whilst Ezra had initiated the inevitable game of poker. Josiah and JD had expressed an interest in playing and then Vin and his father had joined in.

Chris and Ben had withdrawn to the Englishman's study taking with them the cigars and the French brandy that the gunslinger had received as a gift, and likewise Nathan and James had retreated to Owen's study to discuss medical matters and to exchange ideas.

In the drawing room the betting around the poker table was getting serious as Vin placed his cards face down in front of him.

"I fold," he said, barely stifling another yawn. He could hardly keep his eyes open now and he pushed his chair back with an apologetic smile. "If yer don't mind I'm going up now."

"Sleep well, my friend," Josiah said as he placed a few more dollars in the pot, and the other two peacekeepers nodded.

"G'night, son."

Vin dropped a hand on Tanner's shoulder in acknowledgement as he walked out. As the tracker reached the bottom of the stairs he paused and frowned, the faint smell of smoke coming to his nostrils. For a moment he thought it was simply the various fires around the house that he could smell but as he sniffed again he instinctively knew that it was something very different. Turning round he went to the front door and flung it open, stepping out onto the porch. The smell of burning was stronger now and as he looked across to his right his heart gave a sudden lurch as he saw the smoke billowing up into the night sky. He did not hesitate.

"Fire!" he yelled as he rushed back into the house. "Fire in the barn!"

Chris and Ben ran from the study at his urgent cry and as they hurried outside and saw the smoke rising from the out-building, Richardson gave a moan of despair.

"Oh my God! Not again."

By now everybody was outside but as they rushed across the yard they could see that the main barn was untouched. Instead the flames were licking up the back and over the roof of the smaller building housing the Arab stallion and they could hear the terrified screams of the horse as they snatched up the buckets from beside the trough. In a matter of moments the men had formed two chains to combat the blaze, Ben and Chris at the head of each, passing full buckets along the line with the women taking the empty pails back to the first man by the trough.

"I've got to get Prince out of there!" Ben yelled above the crackle of the flames and the loud thuds as the trapped stallion kicked out at the stall confining him. Flinging down his bucket Richardson ducked through the fence and ran up to the main doors, throwing them open.

"Ben - no!" Amelia screamed as she saw her husband disappear inside the burning building. The snapping of timbers sounded loud as the men continued to try and douse the flames but Chris was carefully watching the main doors. Suddenly, the bay stallion burst out into the corral its eyes wild and rolling as it raced blindly around the enclosure and the gunslinger breathed a sigh of relief. As he hefted the next bucket of water, Chris felt hands clutching at his arm as Amelia grabbed at him.

"Where's Ben? He hasn't come out!" The woman was frantic with worry and Chris realised that Richardson was still inside the building.

"Oh, shit!" he hissed. Thrusting the empty bucket at the Englishwoman he climbed into the corral, dodging the panic-stricken Arab as he ran forward through the open doors heedless of his own safety.

Vin was struggling now. Although he was in the centre of a chain and simply passing buckets along the strain was beginning to tell and he could feel the ache spreading through his right side. He had seen Chris rush into the barn after Ben and he was starting to get worried but he doggedly concentrated on what he was doing. Suddenly a terrifying groan and crash of timbers came from the barn and flames roared through the falling roof, leaping high into the night sky.

"Chris!"

His anguished cry was drowned out by Amelia's piercing screams and he dropped his bucket as he launched himself forward.

"Vin - no!" Nathan's yell alerted Will Tanner and he was only just quick enough to grab his son from behind, wrapping his arms around the tracker's chest as he held him back.

"Chris! Chris!" Vin struggled wildly as more of the building collapsed but he could not break free from the older man's grip. "Lemme go!"

"There's nothing you can do, boy." Tanner watched as the side wall caved in and he was vaguely aware of Amelia sobbing in James' arms whilst Josiah comforted a distraught Mary. The other peacekeepers could only look on in horror as the remaining timbers came crashing down, the buckets of water standing forgotten at their feet as they watched the building burn.

"Nooo!" Vin's despairing cry echoed around the yard and he sagged in Tanner's grasp, trembling with shock. The older Texan kept a tight hold on him and dragged him away from the conflagration as the other peacekeepers moved forward, desperately searching for any sign of movement. Mary wiped at her tear-filled eyes and looked once more at the burning ruins of the collapsed barn and then her heart started to pound rapidly as she thought she saw something move.

"What's that?" she cried, pointing towards the shadows beyond the flickering flames. Buck turned at her words and looked to where she was indicating and he could just make out a large huddled shape on the ground.

"Oh Jesus!" he breathed as he took a step forward. "Chris? Nathan, it's them!" The ladies man broke into a run, Nathan right behind him as they went past the remains of the barn to where the two men had collapsed on the ground.

"Easy, Chris," Nathan urged as he crouched down in front of the gunslinger. Chris was on his knees, his arms clutched around his middle as he coughed violently, the painful spasms tearing at his tortured lungs and he was unable to draw a deep breath. "Just breathe slowly."

Amelia was on her knees in front of her husband, weeping hysterically as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

"I'm alright, Amy. I'm alright." Ben winced as his wife's fingers inadvertantly brushed against the gash on the back of his head. It had been his own fault; he should have known how the stallion would react once it had been set loose. As it had run past the animal's shoulder had caught him a glancing blow, flinging him back against the corner of the stall. Half stunned he had gone down, only vaguely aware when Chris' fingers had tightened around his forearm and hauled him up, thrusting him towards the side door and safety. The gunslinger had only just been in time. As they tumbled out of the door they heard the roof come crashing down behind them.

"Chris? Y'alright?" Vin had managed to extricate himself from his father's grip and he crouched down beside his friend, his hand resting on the gunslinger's right shoulder. Chris looked up, unable to answer as he still struggled to catch his breath. He could see the concerned faces around him and he lifted his hand wearily to indicate that he was okay. Nathan looked over at James, who was on the other side of Ben trying to examine the wound on his head.

"Let's get them into the house," he said, pulling the gunslinger to his feet as Vin steadied him on the other side. James helped Ben up, putting an arm around his shoulders as his brother-in-law staggered slightly.

"Ben?"

"It's alright. I'm just a bit dizzy." Richardson glanced across at what was left of the barn, marvelling at their lucky escape and then he looked round at Tanner.

"Will, can you - " He stopped as the Texan held up his hand.

"Don't ya worry, Mr Richardson, we'll see to the barn. Ya just get yerself fixed up."

"Can you rug up the stallion for me and turn him into the main corral?"

"Sure. No problem."

With Nathan and Vin on either side of Chris and James and Amelia supporting Ben, they made their way slowly into the doctor's study. Constance had already gone up to check on the children as Mary asked Annie Roberts to bring some hot water and towels into the room so the men could get cleaned up.

James sat Ben down on the couch, Amelia beside him clutching his hand tightly. The Englishman looked a little dazed, gasping as the doctor's probing fingers checked the back of his head.

"It's not too bad, Ben, but I think you need a couple of stitches."

Richardson felt Amelia's fingers tighten around his at her brother's words and he dropped his other hand over hers in reassurance.

"Why don't you go and see if the children are still asleep, Amy?" Ben wanted her out of the way whilst James tended to his wound but he also wanted to be sure that Emily and Edward had not been disturbed and frightened by the fire. "Can you bring me a clean shirt when you come back down?" He glanced across at the gunslinger who was still coughing as he sat beside the desk. "I think you'd better bring one for Chris as well."

Chris sat hunched forward in the chair, the cough easing off as he cleared the last of the smoke from his lungs. He was just as grimy as Ben, his once pristine shirt blackened and scorched, but Nathan was more concerned about the cough. The healer looked up as James came over to get what he needed from his medical chest and the Englishman paused beside them.

"Is he alright, Nathan? That cough sounds really bad."

"Yeah." Nathan continued rubbing the gunslinger's back to try and ease the discomfort. "His lungs are still weak from the pneumonia he had and that smoke ain't helped any."

"Quit fussing!" Chris wheezed without looking up. "I'm fine."

"Ya jus' quit gripin', cowboy, and do as Nathan tells ya!" The comment came from Vin who was perched on the edge of James' desk, watching the gunslinger anxiously. He could still see the roof falling in on the barn and he was just relieved that Chris was still alive .

"I've got something that'll ease that," James said as he rummaged through his medical chest. "Just let me see to Ben first."

Chris sat back in the chair, the cough having finally stopped but he drew a hissing breath as he realised his shoulder was stinging. Nathan heard him gasp and he suddenly noticed the scorch mark across his left shoulder.

"Ya burn yerself?" he asked, and Chris frowned. He remembered the moment of panic as he entered the smoke-filled barn, unable to even see a hand in front of his face. If he had not fallen over the Englishman he would probably never have found him. It was as he hauled Ben up and pushed him out of the side door that part of the frame came away and caught him. He had not realised at the time that he had been burned; he was more concerned with dragging air into his heaving lungs.

"Feels like it," he admitted, his right hand instinctively reaching up to touch the area.

"Let's take a look," Nathan said, easing the shirt from the gunslinger's shoulder. Chris gritted his teeth as the material pulled at the already blistering burn and the healer turned to Mary who had been watching with some concern. "Can you fetch me a bowl of cold water and some cloths, ma'am?"

Vin winced in sympathy as he regarded the raw wound that marked Chris' skin but he was acutely aware that it could have been so much worse. As Nathan placed a cold compress over it the gunslinger flinched.

"Dammit, Nathan - that hurts!"

"Imagine it does," the healer agreed. "Ya jus' hold it there while I see if James has some salve to put on it."

As Nathan went to check with James, Vin leaned forward and regarded his friend earnestly.

"Ya had us worried for a while there, cowboy. Thought the whole damn building'd fell on ya."

"It came close." The thought of being back in that smoke-filled barn brought a tickle to his throat and Chris started coughing again.

"Are you alright, Chris?" Mary asked as the gunslinger continued to splutter. "Do you want some water?"

"I'll get it." Vin stood up quickly and then grabbed at the edge of the desk as a wave of dizziness suddenly hit him.

"Whoa! Sit down." Nathan gripped the tracker's elbow and forced him back down, keeping a tight hold as Vin took a deep breath. "I don't need ya fallin' flat on yer face as well."

"I'm okay now," Vin replied stubbornly. He had been very tired even before he had discovered the fire and for the last thirty minutes he had been running on adrenaline. Now his whole body was starting to ache with the enforced exertion.

"No yer not. Yer exhausted!" The healer could see how pale Vin was, but he also knew that the tracker would be very reluctant to leave until he was certain that Chris was okay. The gunslinger guessed as much as he made his suggestion.

"Why don't you get some sleep? I'm alright and there ain't much else we can do tonight."

"I'll walk upstairs with you, Vin. I really ought to check on Billy anyway." Mary could see what Chris was trying to do and she threw the gunslinger a quick glance, receiving a grateful nod from him in return.

"Maybe I will turn in." Vin made it sound as if it was his own idea. "Reckon it'd be best if we had a scout around in the mornin' if yer up to it."

"Sounds like a good idea." Chris tried to keep his tone level but he was secretly delighted at the prospect of having Vin riding at his side once more. Despite the efforts of the other peacekeepers, he had missed the tracker more than he would admit.

"I'll say g'night then. Mary?" He held his arm out and Mary slipped hers through it.

"Goodnight Chris, Nathan."

The healer watched them leave and then he turned back to Chris, carefully removing the cold compress from his shoulder.

"Let's see how that burn's doin'," he said as he examined the injury. The redness seemed to have faded a little and there was no further blistering but applying the strong smelling salve would still be quite painful. "This might sting a bit." Dipping his fingers into the small pot that James had given him Nathan smeared the thick cream over the burn. Chris gasped and swore under his breath; as usual the healer was the master of understatement.

"So d'you think Vin'll be up to a ride in the morning?" Chris gritted his teeth as he spoke, blinking back tears of pain.

"I reckon so, as long he takes it easy and ya don't stay out too long. 'Sides, ya'll need to rest that shoulder. It'll be pretty stiff in the morning." As Nathan taped a dry dressing over the wound Amelia returned along with Roberts who was carrying a large jug of hot water and several towels which he placed on the bench by the window.

"Thank you, Charles," the woman said, hanging a clean shirt over the back of Chris' chair. "Would you mind bringing in the coffee now?"

"Of course, Madam."

Leaving the gunslinger to remove his ruined shirt and make use of the hot water to wash off the grime, Nathan stepped across the room as Amelia sat back on the couch beside her husband. James had finished stitching the gash and was just wrapping a bandage around Ben's head to hold the dressing in place.

"How ya doing?" Nathan asked, and Richardson looked up cautiously, afraid to move too much because of the shooting pains in his head.

"I'll live thanks to Chris. How is he?" Despite his own suffering the Englishman had heard the gunslinger's hacking cough and he had been concerned.

"He'll be alright after a good nights sleep. So will you."

"It's just what the doctor ordered," James agreed as he mixed a spoonful of white powder in a glass of water and handed it to his brother-in-law. "Drink this," he ordered. "It will ease the headache."

Richardson swallowed the potion with a grimace and then glanced down at the front of his shirt.

"I think I need to clean up a little before I turn in." Ben climbed slowly to his feet, James' hand under his elbow as he swayed slightly and then he walked gingerly across to where Chris had just finished drying himself off. The gunslinger glanced at the bandage around Richardson's head before carefully pulling the clean shirt over the dressing on his own shoulder and he gave a wry smile.

"Don't we make a fine pair!"

Ben returned the grin but then he became serious. "At least we're both alive. I owe you my life, Chris," he stated, holding out his hand. "I'll never forget that."

For the second time within the space of a few weeks Chris found himself being thanked by a man whose life he had just saved. However, this time his feelings were different. Ben Richardson was a good man, a man worthy of his friendship, and despite Will Tanner's apparent relationship to Vin he just could not feel the same about the Texan.

Part Six

Vin turned over and blearily opened his eyes, convinced that once again he could smell smoke and as he sat up he realised that he had been lying on top of his bed still fully clothed. The tracker could not remember falling asleep but he knew that he had been extremely tired, so tired that he had not even had the energy to undress before falling into a deep slumber.

Sniffing again, the smell of burning was stronger and Vin was certain he could now hear the ominous crackle of flames somewhere close by. Hurrying over to the window he drew back the curtains and looked down over the yard and he was horrified to see flames leaping across the roof of the main barn. Whoever had set the first fire must have returned to wreak more havoc, so wasting no more time he rushed out of his room and raced along the top landing and down the stairs.

"Fire! Fire in the barn!" he yelled as he flung open the front door. Looking across he could see two shadowy figures outlined against the glow, running back and forth with buckets of water in a brave effort to quench the blaze but to little effect. As he picked up a spare pail and filled it from the trough he recognised the figures as his own father and Chris Larabee, their smoke-blackened faces indicating that they had been there for some time.

"I gotta get the horses out!" the gunslinger yelled as Vin appeared at his side.

"No - don't!" Vin could feel his panic rising as he remembered what had happened earlier with the stallion's barn and he grabbed at his friend's sleeve. "It's too dangerous!"

"I can't let them die like this!" Chris shook off the young Texan's hand and pushed him away, plunging into the blazing building before Vin could stop him.

"Chris!"

"Vin - no!" Tanner held onto his son as he tried to follow the gunslinger and Vin struggled wildly in his father's grasp.

"Chris! Chris! Lemme go!"

Tanner barely dragged him away in time as the side wall and part of the roof collapsed and he wrapped his arms even tighter around him.

"There's nothing you can do, boy."

"Nooo!" Vin's anguished cry almost deafened the older Texan but he did not relinquish his grip.

"He's dead, son. But you don't need him. You never needed him. You've got me. That's all that matters."

Vin stared at his father, appalled at the triumph in the older man's eyes. He knew the animosity between Chris and Will Tanner ran deep but he had not expected his father to be so matter-of-fact about the gunslinger's apparent death. However, as he looked back desperately at the barn he saw a shape appear in the open doorway, outlined by dancing orange flames. The shape stumbled forward, feebly beating out the burning embers that charred his clothing and scorched the dark blond hair.

"The man's no good, Vin." The words were an echo of what Vin himself had once told Chris when he had tried to warn him about Ella Gaines, and piercing hazel eyes glared accusingly at the tracker as other words tumbled from the blistered lips. "You coulda stopped this. Why didn't you listen to me?" The gunslinger gave a choking gasp as he collapsed to his knees. "You killed our friendship for a lie." Chris gave a convulsive shudder and keeled over sideways, eyes glazing over as death swept him away before the tracker's disbelieving gaze.

"Nooo!" The young Texan's voice broke as a strangled sob was torn from his throat...

... and Vin's eyes snapped open as he drew a gasping breath, the cry of horror that had woken him up fading from his lips. He could feel the tears of grief on his lashes and the cold sweat drying on his skin, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought against the constriction around him. The tracker realised that he was in his bed this time and that the sheet and blankets were tightly tangled about his body.

Dropping his head back against the pillow Vin took several deep breaths, trying to calm his shattered nerves. It was all just a terrifying nightmare but the stark images were deeply etched in his mind. He could remember now coming upstairs, worn out by the events of the day as he stripped off his smoke begrimed clothes. However, despite his exhaustion, he had found himself unable to sleep for some time. The arson attack on the barn was still fresh in his mind, as was the vision of Chris Larabee emerging from the blazing ruins, his clothing scorched and his shoulder burned. It was little wonder that his dreams had taken on such a horrifying aspect.

Extricating himself from the clinging bedclothes, Vin padded across the room and pulled back the curtain, just to satisfy his own peace of mind. To his relief everything outside was calm. He could see the dark outline of the main barn, whole and undamaged with no sign of the flames that had haunted his dreams. Taking another shuddering breath he crossed over to the wash-stand and poured some cold water into the basin, splashing it over his face and neck.

Stumbling back to his bed he straightened the rumpled sheet and blankets before getting back in and he lay back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. As much as he tried to relax he found sleep impossible, afraid to close his eyes for fear of the nightmare returning.

Vin heard the long case clock in the drawing room below him strike four, and each half hour after that until he could see the cold grey fingers of dawn creeping through the half-open curtains of his room. It was somewhere between half past six and seven o'clock that he dropped into an exhausted sleep, with no repeat of his earlier nightmare to disturb him.

Chris Larabee winced as he eased his left arm into the sleeve of his spare, customary black, shirt. As Nathan had predicted his shoulder had stiffened up during the night and the skin around the burn itself felt tight and hot. Pulling on his boots the gunslinger glanced around the bunkhouse. The other five peacekeepers and Will Tanner were still fast asleep. It had taken them another hour to bring the blaze under control and damp it down and they had finally crawled into their beds well after midnight, totally exhausted.

Slipping quietly out of the door, Chris started to walk towards the house but then changed his mind and turned round, heading back towards the burnt out barn. As he drew nearer he was surprised to see Vin standing there. The tracker had his back towards him, and he appeared to be looking down at the still smouldering timbers, seemingly oblivious to the gunslinger's approach.

Chris dropped a hand on the Texan's shoulder and was astonished by the younger man's reaction. Vin leapt like a startled deer at the touch and he turned to face the gunslinger, his features pale and drawn.

"Dammit, Vin. You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Vin just continued to stare at his friend. He had slept for barely an hour after waking from his nightmare and he had crept out of the house, avoiding the Roberts who were already preparing breakfast, and made his way over to the collapsed building. Little whisps of smoke drifted up into the morning air and the smell of charred wood hung over everything. The tracker could not repress the shudder that ran through him as he surveyed the destruction and he wondered again how Chris had managed to escape relatively unscathed. The vivid images of his nightmare leapt unbidden into his mind and he squeezed his eyes shut as he saw again the gunslinger crumpling and dying at his feet. Caught up in those memories he had not been prepared for the light touch on his shoulder and it had scared the hell out of him.

"Vin? Y'alright?" Chris was concerned by his friend's silence and he could see that he had not slept well. Dark circles shadowed his eyes and he appeared just as worn out as he had the previous night. "Don't look like y'got much sleep."

"Coupla hours mebbe." Vin shrugged. He was not about to tell Chris what had kept awake for most of the night.

"Same here." The gunslinger had tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable because of the painful injury, his mind mulling over why such an attack had happened now. Apparently the few weeks of calm had been a clever ruse to lull the Richardsons into a false sense of security. It was obvious that the danger was still out there and Chris was determined to put an end to it. "You still up for a look around this morning?" he asked, and the tracker gave him a wan smile.

"Yep. Me'n Peso could do with the exercise."

Chris grinned. "Let's go and find some breakfast then."

"I still don't think this is a good idea."

Nathan made the comment as he watched the four men saddling up their horses in the corral. The healer had already tried to talk them out of it over breakfast. He knew that Chris would be hurting but it was the strain and the weariness on Vin's face that had forced him to voice his doubts. However, he should have known from past experience that his two stubborn friends would not listen to reason and he had only been mildly appeased when Buck and Ezra had volunteered to go with them.

"Quit fussin'," Chris said without looking up from adjusting his girth. "We'll be fine."

"Don't you worry, Nathan. We'll keep an eye on them." Buck grinned as he led his grey gelding towards the gate.

"Not more mammy hens!" Vin breathed with an exaggerated groan as he threw the gunslinger a surreptitious wink, and Chris grinned in return.

"Gentleman, we only have your best interests at heart!" Ezra stated, having heard the soft comment. "Besides, I fear Mr Jackson's wrath would be terrible to behold should something untoward happen."

"Ya got that right," Nathan agreed. "At least Ben listened to sense." The healer had already spoken to James earlier that morning and discovered that Ben Richardson had spent a restless night. As Owen had suspected, his brother-in-law had a mild concussion, and he had been ordered to stay in bed and rest for at least the remainder of the day.

"Somehow sense and our two esteemed colleagues never did go hand in hand." The gambler's comment drew a glare from Chris Larabee but it was half-hearted and his lips twitched with amusement. He suspected - wrongly - that Nathan was behind the suggestion that Buck and Ezra accompany them and he could understand his concern but he was content just to have Vin riding with him again.

"Ya mind what I say," Nathan reiterated as the four men led their horses from the corral. "Don't stay out too long."

"We hear you." Chris glanced at Vin as he swung into the saddle of his black but the tracker was too occupied trying to keep his own skittish mount under control. Peso was restless, eager to stretch his legs and Vin could appreciate the horse's enthusiasm. Both man and beast had been cooped up at the Richardson's for over three weeks and the need to be out on the open range was almost a physical ache.

"We'll probably be about an hour." Buck glanced at the gunslinger, almost daring him to defy that statement, but Chris merely shrugged. For once he did not contradict the ladies man; he was aware that Vin was still going to be short on stamina even though the tracker would never admit it, and he knew that they were not likely to find much anyway. However, it was important that Vin got some time in the saddle before they headed back to Four Corners.

"I'll hold ya to that," Nathan warned as the four men rode out.

"So, Mr Tanner, how are you getting along with your father?"

Ezra asked the question after they had been riding for about fifteen minutes. So far they had only found a few scuffed tracks on the trail leading away from Ben Richardson's property, but nothing of any great significance. The gambler had been riding alongside Vin whilst the Texan had led the small party and he voiced one of the questions that had been uppermost in his mind ever since he had learned of Will Tanner's relationship to his friend.

"We're gettin' on jus' fine," Vin replied, forcing a smile as he pushed aside the nightmare visions that had kept him awake after the fire.

Ezra nodded. He had been watching them closely over the Christmas dinner the previous day and during the evening and he could see that Vin seemed quite comfortable around the older Texan. However, he was acutely aware of how Chris Larabee felt, and he had also seen the almost gloating expression on Will Tanner's face when the presents had been given out, and he had reserved judgement under the circumstances. A keen observer of human nature, Ezra was never one to take things on face value, especially when it concerned a good friend.

"Did you not feel angry when you found out who he really was?"

Vin hesitated for a moment, casting his mind back to that fateful night. It was something he had not thought about until now and he realised that he had initially been angry at Tanner's claim, but circumstances had conspired to rob him of that feeling.

"Was at first," he admitted at length. "But then I got so sick nothin' else mattered."

"Hmm." The Southerner could not help wondering whether Vin's reaction would have been different if he had not become ill. The appendicitis had left him in a vulnerable position and Ezra just hoped that Will Tanner had not taken advantage of that fact. "He must have had pretty convincing evidence for you to believe him that quick."

"Yeah, he did. 'Sides, he was there when I needed him. He's done everything a father oughta." Vin did not take offence at Ezra's remarks. He knew the gambler was only asking out of concern, the concern of a friend. "I know what Chris thinks of him, but he's wrong."

"Maybe he is. Mr Larabee is not one to parade his feelings in public. Perhaps the only way he can show he cares is to get angry."

"Reckon yer right, but it don't change what I believe."

"Your loyalty does you credit, my friend. I'm not so sure that I could be so magnanimous if my father suddenly came back into my life."

"Not if the same thing happened to you?" Vin glanced sideways at the gambler, seeing the frown on his face.

"I don't think so." Even as he said it Ezra wondered if that would really be true. When he had thought about it in the past and imagined the scenario, anger was the first emotion that had come to him. Now he was not so sure. They fell silent for a long moment, and then the tracker turned to his friend.

"D'ya ever think about yer pa? D'ya remember him?"

"I remember that he was never there when I needed him." The bitterness in Ezra's voice made Vin look at him sharply. The gambler was staring at some point between his gelding's ears but then he glanced up as he realised he was being observed and gave a disarming smile. "I've never really thought about him. My mother taught me to be self-reliant at an early age." Ezra tried to dismiss the question.as unimportant but he knew that he had come closer to revealing how he felt than ever before in his life.

Vin was not fooled by the gambler's seeming indifference but he was not going to push him any further. Just then Buck and Chris urged their horses forward, coming up on either side of the two younger men.

"D'ya find any more tracks, Vin?" Buck knew that the tracker had not really been concentrating on the trail but there had not been much to find anyway.

"Nope," the young Texan replied. "Reckon they're long gone."

"Maybe we oughta to start heading back," the ladies man continued, not even feeling annoyed when Vin looked directly at Chris on his left for confirmation.

"Buck's right," the gunslinger agreed. "We're not gonna find much more. We're just wasting our time."

In actual fact it had not been so much of a waste as Chris had indicated. At least Vin had had the chance to take a reasonably long ride and it would not be such a physical strain on him when they had to ride back to Four Corners. However, he knew that Nathan would be anxiously awaiting their return, and would no doubt need to check that both he and Vin were okay. Some things never changed.

With lunch over, Vin had reluctantly taken Nathan's advice and gone up to his room for a few hours sleep whilst the healer had dragged Chris into James' study to change the dressing on his shoulder. The wound was messy and weeping as Nathan carefully cleaned it and applied some fresh salve and a clean bandage.

"D'you think Vin'll be okay to ride back with us?" Chris asked, gritting his teeth against the sting of his injury. He had been concerned at how tired the tracker was when they arrived back at the ranch but Nathan quickly put his fears to rest.

"Yeah, so long as we take it slow and easy. 'Sides, he'll have a few more days to rest up." Chris had made it quite clear that in light of the attack on Christmas night the peacekeepers were going to stay a little longer to provide adequate protection until Richardson's hands arrived back from their vacations and Ben had shaken off his own injury. "He's gonna be tired for a while, but that's to be expected and - " The healer stopped as he heard voices outside the study door and then a slow grin spread across his face as he realised who the voices belonged to.

Chris looked round as Ben Richardson entered the room, closely followed by his agitated brother-in-law. The older Englishman still had a bandage wrapped around his head and he was a little pale but there was a determined set to his shoulders that Chris recognised.

"I'm fine, James!" Richardson said, continuing the argument with the young doctor. "I've just got a bit of a headache now, but I'm not going to stay in bed any longer!" Ben slumped down into one of the easy chairs, glaring at James defiantly and Owen turned away as he heard Nathan chuckle.

"I never knew my brother-in-law could be so pig-headed!" he stated, and the healer shook his head.

"Know just how ya feel!" Nathan replied, gazing pointedly at Chris but the gunslinger gave him a look of mock innocence.

"At least you don't have a big sister breathing down your neck as well," James told him with a sigh.

"Thought you two were twins?" Chris sounded puzzled.

"We are, but Lia's older by half an hour," the Englishman explained with a smile. "It's times like this that she never lets me forget it!"

The gunslinger shrugged his shirt back on and went over to join Ben by the fireplace, dropping into the other chair and facing the Englishman.

"So, did you find anything?" Ben asked.

"A few tracks leading away from the ranch, but not much else."

Richardson sighed heavily and leaned back in his seat. "I really thought they'd given up by now. What's going to be next? The house?" Ben shook his head. "For the sake of the children I'm beginning to think it might be wiser to move back East."

Chris frowned, hearing the disheartened tone in Richardson's voice but he could understand his feelings. The Englishman had a lot to lose.

"We're doing no such thing!" Both men looked up as Amelia spoke. They had not been aware that she had entered the room along with Annie Roberts who placed a tray of tea things on James' desk. "This is our home, Ben, and we won't be driven off by a gang of thugs!"

James stepped up behind his sister and placed his arms around her shoulders in an affectionate hug before waving Mrs Roberts out and starting to pour the tea himself.

"I'm only thinking of you and the children, Amy." Ben held his hand out and Amelia took it, perching on the arm of his chair.

"I know." Amelia placed her other hand over his. "But this is your dream. It's what we've always wanted, and I'm not giving up that easily."

Chris remained silent as he watched the couple and he felt a sudden twinge of sadness. Amelia Richardson reminded him of Sarah; there was the same strength of will and determination that his late wife had had, and he admired her for it.

"Tell him, Chris. Tell him we've got to stay."

"She's right you know. You can't let them drive you off like this. You gotta make a stand." Chris leaned forward and stared earnestly at the Englishman. "Remember - you're not on your own. If you like, me an' the boys'll stay a few more days."

Richardson thought long and hard about the offer but he was conscious of the fact that he would be taking them away from their duties in Four Corners if he accepted. However, he was also aware of his own limitations and the vulnerability of the ranch whilst he was shorthanded.

"Grateful as I am, I can't ask you to do that. Your job is to police the town. I don't want to take you away from that."

"You won't be," the gunslinger assured him. "I know Mary needs to get back tomorrow 'cos of the paper, and I can send JD, Ezra, and Josiah back with her. They'll be able to cope with things for a while."

"If you're sure, I won't argue with you. I'll be happy to have you stay. I just hope we can put a stop to this soon so we can get on with our lives." Ben smiled gratefully up at his wife and his momentary doubts faded away in the face of her resolve and Chris' offer of help.

"Well, that's settled then. I think we could all do with some tea - and we'll have no more talk of this nonsense about moving back East." Amelia stood up and then she turned and wagged her finger at her husband. "And then you are going to get some more rest!"

Ben pulled a face and Chris grinned. Amelia was one determined lady, and James and Nathan would do well to take a leaf out of her book when it came to getting her own way.

+ + + + + + +

After all the excitement of the past few days the house seemed positively quiet as Vin sat out on the front porch cleaning his sawn-off Winchester.

Mary and Billy Travis were already on their way back to town with Ezra, Josiah, and JD as escort. Their departure had been noisy and the three children had been somewhat tearful, with Edward and Emily reluctant to lose their new playmate but Mary had promised Amelia that they would be back to visit again soon.

Vin's father had been out and about since early morning, seeing to all those jobs that kept the ranch running smoothly, whilst Buck... Actually the young Texan had no idea where Buck was. He only knew that the ladies man was not in the house.

The tracker had considered going out to the corral where he knew he would find Chris, Ben, and Nathan tending to the Arab stallion. Despite the Englishman's prompt actions when the barn was burning the horse had managed to bruise its shoulder quite badly, but Nathan had mixed up a linament from various plants and herbs that still struggled to keep a foothold in the overgrown walled garden. It needed the other two men to keep the animal under control whilst the healer rubbed the soothing lotion into the affected area.

In the end Vin had decided against it, knowing that he would most probably in the way. Instead he borrowed the items he needed to clean his gun, and had spent the last half hour sitting in the late afternoon sun as he meticulously went about his task. He had almost finished when the front door opened and he looked up in some surprise as Constance Bartlett stepped out.

"Ma'am," he greeted politely, touching his hat.

"Oh!" The governess seemed quite startled to find someone sitting out in the chilly air with a gun in their hand. "Good afternoon, Mr Tanner." She paused for a moment, looking around hesitantly but before Vin could say anything else she seemed to come to a decision and hurried off across the yard. The tracker shrugged and just carried on with what he was doing.

A further five minutes ticked by and as Vin sat there with his Winchester across his lap he shivered. He was starting to feel the cold a bit now despite his jacket, and he thought it was about time he went back in. However, before the tracker could make a move the door opened once more and James Owen came out to the porch.

"Vin," he exclaimed. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

"Waal, the others are busy so I figgered to use the time t'clean my gun." He glanced up as the Englishman seated himself on the bench next to him. "'Sides, I kinda got used to m'own company over the years."

"Oh." James started to get up. "If you'd rather be by yourself... " he began, but Vin gave him a quick smile.

"No, yer fine. I'll be glad of the company."

They sat there in silence for a few moments, watching as the sun started to slip down towards the horizon bathing everything in a crimson glow, and James sighed.

"It is pretty here. I can see why Ben and Lia want to stay."

"But y'ain't so sure." It was not a question as Vin glanced towards this man who he now regarded as a friend. He could hear the doubt in his voice, the uncertainty about whether it was the right choice.

"I didn't think we'd have all this trouble," the doctor admitted. "It just seemed like the perfect opportunity for all of us to start afresh."

"Know how ya feel." It was much the same situation that he had found himself in when he first met Chris in Four Corners. The chance to start again had been something that he and the gunslinger had grabbed with both hands. "Reckon ya just had a run o'bad luck. Things'll change, ya'll see."

"I hope you're right, my friend. I'm just glad that Chris offered to stay for a while longer."

"Ya didn't think we'd leave while Ben was hurt and yer shorthanded, did ya?" Vin seemd shocked by the Englishman's assumption. "But we can't be here all the time. Ya gotta start lookin' out fer yerself. That's the way it is out here."

"I know that, but I can't handle a gun," James said. He had noticed that even while the tracker was talking to him he was using an oily cloth to constantly rub at the mechanism of his Winchester. It was such an unconscious action that he did not think Vin was even aware he was doing it.

"I'd more'n happy to teach ya," Vin volunteered.

"That's not what I mean," James replied softly. "Ben gave me a gun, but I can't even bring myself to load it. The thought of using it against another human being frankly terrifies me." He looked down at his hands, the slender fingers that had brought the tracker back from the brink of death. "I was taught to save lives, not take them."

"Not even to protect Amelia and the children?"

Owen glanced round as the Texan voiced the question and there was horror in his eyes. That was something he not thought about, even after all the problems they had had, and he hoped he would never be placed in that situation.

"I don't know," he whispered honestly. "I pray to God I never have to find out."

For a moment Vin did not reply. Over the years he had been responsible for the death of a number of men, but usually they were trying to kill him. Even when he had become a bounty hunter, with the reward payable 'Dead or Alive', dead had never been an option for him.

"Maybe there'll come a time when we won't need to protect ourselves, but it ain't now. At least keep yer gun loaded and carry it wit' ya."

"I'll think about it," James agreed. "But I won't make any promises." He looked up; there was less than an hour of daylight left and he shivered as a sudden breeze whipped across the porch. "I don't think you should sit out here much longer," he told the Texan. "I don't want you catching a chill on top of everything else."

"Yer right." Vin climbed to his feet and sniffed at the air. "Reckon we'll get some snow afore too long."

"Come on." James stood up and slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "It's warmer in the kitchen, and I happen to know that Mrs Roberts is baking biscuits. Let's see if we can help her out before the others come back."

Buck was alone in the bunkhouse packing away a few of his belongings in his saddlebag, and he paused as he picked up the silk bandana he had received as a gift. A smile curved his lips as he fingered the soft, sensual material and he shook it out and placed it down on the bed. Reaching up, he untied and discarded the one he was wearing before folding the new one in half and fastening it around his throat, carefully settling it into the correct position. Suddenly he heard a floorboard creak and he turned to find Constance Bartlett standing just inside the doorway.

"Oh, Mr Wilmington!" The woman sounded surprised as Buck stepped forward, a wide grin on his face.

"Why Miss Constance, what an unexpected pleasure. I do hope you were looking for me."

"I most certainly was not!" The governess sounded most indignant at the suggestion.

"I asked you to call me Buck." The ladies man's voice was soft and low as he cocked his head to one side and regarded her intently.

"So I recall," Constance replied tersely, all the while glancing around the bunkhouse as though she were looking for someone or something. "I... er, I was actually searching for Edward. The boy seems to have disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Buck's smile faded and he became serious. With all that had been happening with the Richardsons, the idea that one of the children was missing gave him great cause for concern. Seeing the alarm on his face Constance blushed with embarrassment.

"Oh no... I mean... How foolish of me!" The Englishwoman's cool composure slipped as she tried to extricate herself from the awkward situation, and Buck could see how flustered she was. "I've just remembered that the children are with Mrs Roberts. I'm so sorry to have worried you. I don't know how I could have been so forgetful!"

Buck visibly relaxed at her words, relieved that nothing had happened to Edward or Emily and then he smiled, his eyes twinkling mischieviously.

"Perhaps your mind was on something else," he suggested. "Me, for instance."

The woman stared at him for a long moment, her lips twitching as she fought to prevent a smile escaping.

"You really are most persistant," she stated, and there was a vague hint of amusement in her tone.

"I've been told that's one of my better qualities, but I have others." Buck paused and gave her a knowing look. "So far I haven't had any complaints."

Constance knew exactly what he meant but she ignored his pointed comment. Instead she glanced past him, frowning a little as she saw the saddlebags on the bunk behind him.

"So you're leaving then?"

"Not until the day after tomorrow, ma'am." Buck sighed as the woman deliberately ignored his advances as she had done from the first moment he had met her, and he was beginning to think that his famous 'animal magnetism' was wearing a little thin.

"Oh." Buck was intrigued by the fleeting look of disappointment on the Englishwoman's face, and he moved a fraction closer.

"Gonna miss me?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. I think it's safe to say that we will all miss the reassuring presence of yourself and your friends."

"Waal, we'd like to stay a bit longer but we're needed back in town." Buck was beginning to realise that he was fighting a losing battlr with this woman. "The ranch crew'll be back in the morning, so you'll be well protected."

"Yes, you're probably right."

As she started to turn away Buck shrugged his shoulders regretfully and lowered his gaze. He did not regard her as simply just another conquest. The ladies man had genuinely found her to be intelligent and sophisticated, and he would like to have taken their acquaintance that one step further but it seemed that was not to be.

"Oh, to hell with it!"

The softly muttered curse caused Buck to look up and he was taken completely aback as Constance took two steps forward and reached out to pull his face towards hers. He barely had time to draw a breath as her lips fastened hungrily on his mouth and he staggered back, his arms instinctively going around her waist. For almost a minute they remained locked together and then Constance broke the contact, smiling as she glanced up into Buck's amazed face.

"Why ma'am, you are just full of surprises!" The ladies man sounded slightly breathless, stunned by the intensity of the woman's kiss and she smiled coyly as she pulled out of his grasp. Taking hold of the broom that stood beside the door, she wedged it under the latch so it could not be opened from the outside. Turning back she slipped her arms around his neck once again.

"Mr Wilmington, I've only just begun."

+ + + + + + +

Nathan frowned as he glanced across once more at Vin Tanner. The young tracker had been quiet for some time and he was beginning to wonder whether the ride was taking too much out of him after all.

The party had left the Richardson's soon after breakfast on the fourth day after Christmas with much handshaking and hugging all round at the leavetaking. Even a relaxed-looking Constance Bartlett appeared sorry to see them go, but only Nathan saw the brief smile that passed between her and Buck. Vin had said his goodbyes to his father in private, although Will Tanner was there with the family to see them off, and the tracker had seemed eager at the prospect of finally returning to town, but now he appeared rather subdued.

"Vin? Y'alright?" The healer asked the question as he kneed his horse closer. "Yer side hurting?"

"Huh?" Vin jerked upright in his saddle. He had been so deep in thought that he had shut out everyone around him. "No, no. It's fine." They had been keeping to a steady pace since they had left, and in actual fact Vin had not given the wound a second thought. It was almost healed now and the dressing had been left off several days ago,

"I guess it's seems strange going back to town. After all, it's bin a while... " The healer's voice trailed off as Vin gave a heavy sigh.

"It ain't the goin' back to town," the tracker admitted. "I just realise how much I'm gonna miss m'pa."

Nathan looked ahead, his eyes fixed firmly on a point between Chris Larabee's shoulder-blades. He had seen the smug delight on the gunslinger's face when Vin had led his saddled gelding out of the barn and joined them as they were getting ready to leave. He knew how pleased Chris was that the tracker was returning with them, back to where he belonged. but it was more than that. Nathan sensed that Chris thought if he could put some distance between Vin and Will Tanner then their relationship would revert back to the comfortable, easy understanding of before.

"Y'ain't gonna be that far away. Ya'll know exactly where he is."

"I just wanna spend more time with him. Is that so wrong?"

"No. I know how ya feel. I wish I coulda spent more time wit' my daddy." The healer looked away quickly as tears sprang unbidden to his eyes. Obidiah Jackson had finally found his son just before he was tried for a crime of passion that stretched back before the Civil War. Nathan's friends had helped to set the record straight, but that had not been enough to save his father. Consumption had claimed the life of the former slave a few short months after he had been entrusted into Chris Larabee's aegis.

"I'm sorry, Nathan." Vin felt a little guilty at being so self-absorbed. "I didn't mean t'stir up painful memories."

"Ya didn't. I'm glad I got t'know my father again before... y'know?" Nathan looked at his friend and he forced a grin to his lips. "Make the most of it. Don't let the chance slip away."

"I ain't gonna, no matter what anyone else thinks!" Vin replied emphatically. "He's family - and that means too much to me."

The healer pursed his lips thoughtfully. He could certainly understand Vin's feelings towards his father but it would not be right to simply push his friends away because someone new had come into his life.

"I know that, but yer friends're important, too." Nathan paused and glanced once more at Chris. "We might not always see things t'way yer do, but it don't mean we don't care."

"Ain't denying that." Vin knew that his friends would spit in the face of the Devil himself for him, and he would do the same, but that was not the issue. It was Chris Larabee's stubborn refusal to accept Will Tanner for who he was that was the thorn in the tracker's side. "But it ain't gonna change what I feel for m'pa."

"I ain't sayin' it should, but friends are the family we choose fer ourself an' don't yer forget that!"

Vin nodded thoughtfully, and Nathan's words stayed in his mind all the way to Four Corners.

+ + + + + + +

The New Year had come and gone with little ceremony and things had remained quiet at the Richardson's place. However, that did not mean that they were letting their guard down; they had been caught out once before and Ben was taking no chances. On Chris Larabee's advice he had hired some extra hands and maintained a vigilant presence around the property. His actions seemed to have paid off with no further trouble in the two weeks following Christmas.

Vin Tanner pulled his coat tighter around him as he walked down the main street of Four Corners. They had been lucky so far with only a few flurries of snow to herald in the coming winter but the tracker could sense that it would not be long before the real cold weather set in with a vengeance.

This was only the second time that Vin had been out on patrol on his own. Despite his recovery from the appendicitis, Nathan had fussed and fretted for more than a week after their return from the ranch making certain that he did not over-tax himself. As he made his way to the jailhouse blowing on his cold fingers, he heard his name called, and he looked around to see his father driving a buckboard along the street towards him.

"Vin! How're ya doing boy?" Will Tanner drew the wagon to a halt and jumped down from the seat as he greeted his son.

"M'fine." Vin smiled as the older Texan dropped a hand on his shoulder. It was the first time he had seen him since he and the others had left the Richardson's ranch and he had missed him.

"Thought ya might o'been out t'see me afore now," Tanner admonished gently, but Vin shook his head. In spite of Nathan's concerns about his health his peacekeeping duties had kept him busy, with no time for out of town socialising.

"Was gonna, but... " The tracker felt slightly guilty, but Tanner shrugged it aside.

"Don't worry. I know ya got things t'do here, son. 'Sides, we've been pretty busy ourselves, what with the extra patrols n'all."

"Has Ben had any more trouble?" Vin asked anxiously.

"Nope. Quiet as a church social. Those extra hands seem to've done the trick. Reckon Larabee was right."

Vin raised one eyebrow in surprise, pleased that his father had given Chris some credit for the suggestion but he knew there was still a long way to go.

"So what brings ya t'town?"

"Got a list of supplies to pick up for the boss," Tanner replied, pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket. "Gotta check the mail, too. See if there's any letters for 'em."

"Waal, I gotta get back to the jail, but maybe I'll see ya in the saloon later?"

"Count on it, son. Ya can buy yer ol' daddy a drink."

Vin was grinning as he walked away, anticipating a pleasant evening in the saloon. As he approached the Sheriff's office he decided that it would be wiser not to tell Chris that Will Tanner was in town. If the gunslinger found out later... then so be it.

Casey Wells was bored. She had just come from the jailhouse in search of JD, but neither Chris nor Vin seen him for some time. It was Chris who had suggested she look in at the saloon as the young peacekeeper was more than likely to be with Buck at this time of the afternoon.

As the girl started to cross the alley by the hotel a faint noise drew her attention and she glanced down to where Vin's wagon stood. Even as she looked she could see a vague shape moving about inside and she crept forward, listening carefully. Casey knew with absolute certainty that it was not Vin unless he could be in two places at once, and she doubted whether it would be any of the other peacekeepers. It was the tracker's own sanctuary from the world and the others respected his privacy. This led Casey to one simple conclusion; whoever was inside had no right to be there. However, she knew her limitations and she was not prepared to challenge the intruder. Turning on her heel, she hurried back towards the jail.

"Vin! There's someone in your wagon!"

Casey's sudden unexpected reappearance startled both men as they sat drinking coffeee and Vin jumped up from where he had been perched on the edge of the desk.

"Yer sure?" It was not that the tracker disbelieved her; he just could not think that he had anything worth stealing.

"Sure as I'm standing here lookin' at you two!" Casey did not mince her words, and Chris set down his cup as he pushed himself to his feet.

"Let's go."

The two peacekeepers had their guns drawn ready as they approached the rear of Vin's wagon. Chris held up his hand, indicating that they should stop, and then he put a finger to his lips and listened carefully. For a moment they believed that the intruder - whoever it was - had already left but then they saw the wagon move slightly on its springs. Tightening his grip on his Colt Chris called out a challenge.

"Whoever you are you'd best get the hell out o'there now!" There was a moments silence and the two peacekeepers stepped forward, their weapons trained on the unlaced flap, but neither was prepared for the person who cautiously emerged from inside.

"Pa?" Vin could not keep the surprise from his voice as the Texan climbed out and stood facing them, but Chris was furious.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing, Tanner?" he growled menacingly. "Why did you break into Vin's wagon?"

"Didn't mean no harm, son. I was jus' lookin'." Tanner ignored Chris completely and glanced at Vin, seeing the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

"What were ya lookin' fer? If ya needed summat ya only had t'ask."

"Kinda a habit with you, ain't it? Going through other peoples things." Chris could not help making the reference to Tanner having taken Vin's harmonica when the tracker was so desperately ill. Before the man could reply to the accusation Vin rounded on his friend, his expression confused.

"What t'hell's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, but Chris just shrugged.

"You'd best ask him."

"Just hold on a minute, boys." The older Texan tried to defuse the tense situation. "Lets not get all riled up about this. Why don't w'all head on down to the saloon and have a drink?"

"I ain't thirsty!" Chris dropped his gun back into its holster as he flung the olive branch back in Tanner's face. "'Sides, I've got better things to do. Vin, you deal with this." With that the gunslinger stalked away.

"Don't reckon I'm ever gonna see eye to eye wit' yer friend," Tanner sighed regretfully.

"Chris is a hard man to get to know," Vin replied, absently lacing up the back of his wagon. "Hell, Buck's known him for more'n twelve years, and most times he don't understand him!"

"Ain't seen you having a problem. Ya seem to get on real well wit' him."

Vin frowned as he stared at his father. That was something he had never been able to figure out but it was true. There had never been any hesitation in his friendship with Chris; it had been spontaneous - instant trust, instant understanding - and he had never had any regrets. He smiled.

"I dunno. We just... get along. It's like I've always known 'im."

"I never meant t'come between ya, boy." Tanner placed his hand on Vin's shoulder. "I jus' wanna be part of yer life now."

"I know that. Chris's jus' gonna have'ta accept it." Vin glanced up at the darkening sky. "Come on," he invited. "I'll buy ya that drink now."

As the two men headed in the direction of the saloon the young tracker gave no further thought to the fact that they had discovered Will Tanner snooping around his wagon. Whether deliberately or by accident, the conversation had been subtly turned away from the incident.

It was fairly late in the evening and Vin and Will Tanner found themselves sitting alone in a corner of the saloon, a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table in front of them. They had passed the time quite pleasantly. They had had supper with Buck and JD and then played poker with Ezra until their money got low. It was Vin who called it a day first but his father was not long in following him and they retired to the corner table to talk and drink.

Vin had seen Chris enter the saloon about half an hour ago but although the gunslinger had glanced over in their direction he made no attempt to join them. Instead he stood alone at the end of the bar, hands wrapped around a large whiskey staring moodily into the glass.

"I never got round to apologising fer this afternoon," Tanner began, and Vin looked around at him in surprise. The tracker had been watching the morose figure of Chris Larabee and he had been feeling a little guilty. There had been several occasions when he had considered going over to talk to his friend but something held him back each time. "Yer wagon?" the older man continued, seeing the mystified expression on his son's face.

"What? Oh... yeah."

"I know I shoulda asked, but when I saw it I couldn't help myself." Picking up the bottle he poured them both a generous measure of the whiskey. "I kept thinking 'bout what ya said - 'bout living with the Comanch' an' the Kiowa? - an' I reckon I was jus' curious."

"Ferget it. It ain't important." Vin dismissed it, taking a quick swallow of his drink. Despite his concerns over Chris he was feeling quite relaxed, content just to sit there and be sociable with his father. The minutes ticked by as the conversation lulled and Vin could not help thinking that this was the kind of silence he had so often shared with the gunslinger, and he found the similarity disquieting.

"Vin, I dunno how t'say this, but I've bin givin' some thought to moving on." All of a sudden Tanner spoke, and he immediately had the tracker's undivided attention.

"What? What d'ya mean?" Vin was appalled. His father had just come back into his life after more than twenty years and now he was talking about leaving again. It was almost too much to comprehend.

"I never intended to stay with the Richardson's fer very long. I got a bit o'money saved up, and I bin thinking' 'bout buying my own little place." He paused, and regarded Vin intently. "I want ya to come wit' me, son."

Vin gasped aloud and sat back in his chair, totally stunned by this unexpected turn of events. Leave? Leave Four Corners? Once again his gaze was drawn to Chris Larabee standing isolated by the bar, and he could feel his stomach knotting with trepidation. The tracker had never been one for settling in the same place for any length of time. Wanderlust had always forced him on, first through choice and then by neccessity, until Four Corners and Chris Larabee had quite literally stopped him in his tracks. Here he had finally found a home and with the other peacekeepers, a 'family' who he cared about, and who cared for him. Now he was being asked to give it all up for an uncertain future with a man he barely knew. However, that man was his father and he had always longed for the chance to have a real family.

"I know it ain't an easy choice, boy, but I want ya t'give it some serious thought." Tanner could see the indecision on the younger man's face and he was not about to press his son for a quick answer. This was something that affected their whole future and needed careful consideration.

Vin picked up his glass and swallowed the rest of his drink, not even tasting it as it went down. He was thoroughly bewildered by his father's proposal, unable to think clearly about the choice he was being asked to make. However, there was one thing he knew for certain. Until he had made his decision one way or another he dare not mention a word of it to Chris Larabee.

+ + + + + + +

As Josiah Sanchez came out of the church and pulled the door shut behind him he looked along the main trail out of town as the sound of hoofbeats caught his attention, and he offered up a silent prayer as he saw Vin Tanner riding in, holding his horse to a steady walk.

"Vin! Wait up!" The ex-preacher strode down the steps as the Texan brought his black gelding to a stop. "D'you have a moment, my friend?"

"Sure. What's up?" Vin slipped from the saddle and walked forward as Josiah sat down on the steps.

"Saw you heading out with your father this morning. Thought you seemed a mite troubled. Is everything alright between you two?"

The big man had a very good reason for asking the last question. He had seen Vin and Will Tanner talking intently in the saloon the previous evening and he had noticed the apprehension on the tracker's face, and he wondered at the cause. Then this morning the young Texan had been quieter than usual if that was possible, and he seemed to be avoiding Chris altogether for some reason. Josiah knew that something was worrying him and he was willing to listen if Vin wanted to talk about it.

"Yeah, it's fine. It's just that... " Vin paused and gave a heavy sigh, lowering his gaze as he toyed absently with the reins in his hand. "Have ya ever had t'make a choice when ya didn't wanna?"

"Many times, my friend." Josiah did not hesitate; the choices he had made between himself and his God were amongst the hardest of his life. "Sometimes it's difficult to make the right ones, but you'll know when you have."

"How?"

The ex-preacher looked up and gave the younger peacekeeper a half-smile. "I'm a great believer in the proverb 'a problem shared is a problem halved' - especially if it's shared with a friend."

Vin returned the smile, grateful for Josiah's concern. His father's proposal had kept him awake for most of the night, and although he had thought he could work it through for himself he now realised that he needed someone to talk to. He had ridden out part of the way with Will as he returned to the ranch with the supplies, hoping that he would be able to reach a desicion but it had been impossible. In all fairness to the man, Tanner had not put any undue pressure on Vin, leaving him to make his own choice but it did not make it any easier. Pushing back his hat Vin sat down on the step beside the ex-preacher and told him about his father's plans for the future and how he wanted Vin to be a part of that.

"I dunno what t'do, Josiah," he said at length his voice low. Josiah looked at him, reading the inner turmoil on his face, but in all honesty he was not surprised. Vin might not have thought about his father moving on but it had certainly crossed his mind and he wondered whether any of the other peacekeepers had considered it. Chris probably had; it would explain his hostile attitude towards Will Tanner. Of all of them the gunslinger would be the most affected if Vin decided to leave with his father.

"What does your heart tell you to do?"

Vin wished he knew. For as long as he could remember all he had ever wanted was the love and security of a real family - or so he had thought. Now that he had to make that choice he was not so sure.

"Feels like I'm bein' torn apart. Whatever I do, someone's gonna get hurt." There was no disguising the misery in the tracker's voice. Vin had naively believed he could keep the best of both worlds, with his father staying at the Richardson's where he could visit whenever he wanted, whilst he continued with his life in Four Corners. However, reality was proving to be much harsher than the dream.

"Only you can decide what's best for you." Josiah leaned forward and dropped a hand on the Texan's forearm, squeezing sympathetically.

"I know," Vin whispered.

"Do any of the others know about this?"

"No - and I'd sooner they didn't yet." Vin knew that Josiah would respect his confidence even before the ex-preacher replied.

"They'll not hear it from me, my friend."

The two men sat there for a moment longer, each wrapped in their own thoughts and oblivious to the chill in the air. Finally Vin climbed to his feet and settled his hat back on his head.

"Reckon I'd best be getting along." The Texan gathered up the reins of his patient mount and gave Josiah a warm smile. "Thanks fer list'ning."

"Any time."

Josiah remained sitting on the steps, watching the tracker lead his horse towards the Livery. What he had said was true; only Vin could decide what he wanted to do but he would hate to see him leave. The bond of trust and affection between the seven grew stronger with each passing day but it was Vin, not Chris, who seemed to hold them together. He was the hub around which the wheel turned and without that fulcrum Josiah was afraid that the wheel would collapse, damaged beyond repair.

+ + + + + + +

"I wish you wouldn't go, James. Will seems to think we're going to get some snow."

Amelia Richardson made the plea as her brother tightened the girth on his sorrel gelding. James had made it quite clear that he felt the need to take a ride and nothing was going to deter him. He was beginning to feel a little bored around the ranch; there was very little he could do with the day to day running of it and he wanted some time to himself.

"Stop fussing, Lia! Everyone's been talking about snow for weeks, and nothing's happened. Don't worry. I'll be fine."

Amelia was not convinced and she looked at her husband as he stood on the porch beside her.

"Tell him, Ben. Tell him he can't go."

"Why? He's a grown man, Amy. He can look after himself."

James threw his brother-in-law a grateful look. Much as he loved his family sometimes he just needed to get away from them for a few hours. It was something that Ben understood, but Amelia could not.

"I'm only going for a short ride. I won't be long."

The Englishwoman knew that she was fighting a losing battle and in the end she gave in gracefully. Stepping forward she kissed her brother on the cheek.

"You just be careful," she said. "Keep an eye on the weather."

"If you're not back for lunch, I'll ask Mrs Roberts to save something for you." Ben handed the reins to the young doctor and James gave a wry grin.

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

As James mounted his horse Richardson went back into the house but Amelia remained on the porch, biting her bottom lip in consternation as she watched her twin disappear into the distance.

James was thoughtful as he kept his mount to a steady trot. Ever since he had operated on Vin Tanner he had realised that being a doctor was the most important thing in his life, and he wanted to continue helping people. However, he knew that he would not be able to achieve his full potential by staying where he was. It had taken a small-town healer to make him understand just what he was capable of, and he would be eternally grateful to Nathan Jackson for making him see this.

Although he knew it would upset the family James was seriously considering looking further afield to set up his own practice. Four Corners was not an option; although he was not a trained doctor Nathan had the natural skill of a healer and the full support of the townsfolk, and Owen would not dream of usurping his position. The town of Eagle Bend, or even beyond that, might be something for him to consider and he needed this time alone to weigh up the possibilities.

Thinking about Four Corners brought his mind back to the seven peacekeepers who he had come to regard as friends. From the outset he had been in awe and a little scared of Chris Larabee until he had come to know the man beyond the reputation. His opinion had changed when he had seen how different the gunslinger was wth Vin; the care and attention he had shown towards the tracker had surprised him.

However, it was Vin that he felt the most comfortable with. It was true that he had got to know him best of all because of the tracker's enforced stay at the ranch but it was more than that. Although their backgrounds were very different they found they had a lot in common and James was eager to nurture the friendship with someone of his own age. That was part of the reason for this ride; if the Texan had still been at the ranch James would have taken the opportunity to discuss his problem with him. He knew that his family, in particular his sister, would never understand why he was considering moving on but it was something he needed to do. During his convalescance Vin had spoken at length about his father and what little he actually remembered about his childhood, and James sensed that the tracker was not usually so open. James felt that the Texan would have understood his restlessness and listened to his dilemma, but in his absence he had no choice but to try and work it out for himself.

Suddenly the young doctor realised that tiny white flakes glistened on his horse's mane and he looked up to find that the long threatened snow was finally starting to fall. It was barely a dusting at the moment but he recalled Vin's warning that the winters here could be harsh and a snowfall could become deep and dangerous in a very short space of time. Reining in his mount, James looked around and discovered that he had been so deep in thought that he had ridden further than he had intended. He gave a little smile; it was time to be heading back, otherwise Lia would be sending out the search parties.

Within about ten minutes the snow was coming down heavier and he urged his sorrel into a fast trot, conscious of the fact that the trail he was following dropped away slightly to his left. As he concentrated on keeping his skittish mount on the level path and away from the slippery slope, James almost rode past the three horses fastened in the shelter of a small stand of trees at the bottom of the incline. If his own gelding had not a whickered a greeting, and received one in reply, he would have passed by without a second glance.

Curiosity made Owen stop and as he looked down through the swirling snow he thought he could see three figures moving just beyond the horses. Mindful of the previous attacks on the ranch, caution kept him silent as he tried to see who they were. A sudden gust of wind blew aside the curtain of snow, and James was alarmed to see the men looking up at him. Even as he watched he saw one of them make a dash for his horse and fearing pursuit or capture James kicked his own into motion, heedless of the treacherous surface underfoot.

He had barely gone a few yards when he heard the flat bark of a rifle and felt the numbing pain as something heavy slammed into his body, pitching him forward in the saddle. Snatching at the gelding's mane as he lost his balance James tried to remain on the animal's back but his fingers would not grip and he found himself tumbling onto the hard ground as his horse galloped on riderless.

For what seemed like an eternity he lay there, gasping as the searing agony ripped through him and he knew he had to move or be caught. Gathering together the last remnants of his ebbing strength James Owen dragged himself off of the trail and into the shelter of a clump of bushes. Tucked into the undergrowth and believing he was safely hidden from his attacker he slumped down and curled himself into a ball in an attempt to remain warm but an icy chill was already creeping through his body as his tenuous grasp on consciousness slipped away.

His last thought as he plummeted into the welcoming blackness that kept the pain at bay was how angry Amelia would be with him for missing lunch.

Nathan was just leaving the stage-line office as Chris and Vin came along the boardwalk.

"What you got there?" the gunslinger asked, eyeing the small package in the healer's hand.

"It's summat for James. I said I'd collect it for him. Thought mebbe I'd ride out and give it to him seeing as it's pretty quiet at the moment." Nathan had seen Will Tanner when he had come into Four Corners for supplies just over ten days ago, and the healer had promised to pick up the package when it arrived.

"Reckon I might come wit' ya," Vin suggested. Nathan saw the scowl that darkened Chris' face at the tracker's words but there was nothing the gunslinger could say.

"I'll be glad o'the company." The healer had noticed that Vin had been a little reticent around the gunslinger lately and seemed to have something on his mind, but he knew better than to press him on the matter. Therefore he had not been that surprised by the tracker's offer to accompany him.

"Please yourself. You usually do." Chris made the sharp comment and then turned and walked away. Nathan watched him go and heard Vin give a heavy sigh.

"What's eatin' him?" he asked.

"Probably me," Vin replied lowering his gaze. For a while things between him and Chris had almost been back to normal but ever since his father had outlined his plans for the future the tracker had found himself treading warily around the gunslinger, afraid that he would discover Vin's inner turmoil.

Apart from Josiah, the other peacekeepers were unaware of the important decision he had to make, and as he and Nathan walked down to the Livery the young Texan felt that this was the ideal opportunity ti discuss it further with his father. Maybe then he would be able to finally make up his mind whether to go or stay.

Ben Richardson was helping a couple of his hands with the construction of a new barn for the stallion when he saw the peacekeepers arrive and he hurried across the yard to meet them.

"Vin. Nathan. What brings you out here?"

"I got a parcel for James." The healer swung down from his horse and brushed the snow from his coat. It had started falling a few minutes ago, not much but enough to settle lightly on the cold ground. "Summat wrong?" he asked, seeing the concerned frown on the Englishman's face.

"Well, it's probably nothing... James went out for a ride some time ago, and he's not back yet. What with the snow and everything else that's happened... " Ben let his words trail off, trying to hide just how worried he was.

"Reckon he's got enough sense t'know when t'come back," Vin told him as he dismounted from his gelding, remembering some of the conversations he had had with James whilst he had been staying at the ranch.

"I'm sure you're right." Ben forced a smile to his face. "Why don't you get your horses settled and join us for lunch? Mrs Roberts has made enough hot-pot to feed an army!"

As Vin and Nathan led their horses to the small corral by the bunkhouse the tracker glanced around but he could see no sign of his father. He was a little disappointed but not altogether surprised; with the worst of the winter weather coming on there was a lot to be done around the ranch to safeguard the livestock. However, he would make a point of seeking him out before they left.

Ben was waiting on the porch for them when they returned and he ushered them into the house.

"Go straight through to the dining room," he said as they placed their hats on the hall table. "Amy's already there. I'll go and tell Mrs Roberts she can serve lunch now."

Nathan followed Vin through the drawing room, oddly silent and empty now after the festivities of the Christmas period, and Amelia Richardson greeted them warmly even though the healer could see that she seemed slightly distracted.

"Vin, how are you?"

"I'm fine, ma'am. Yer sure we ain't imposing?"

Nathan raised an eyebrow in silent amusement as the tracker carefully pronounced the last word and he wondered whether he had been spending too much time with Ezra lately.

"No, no. It's no trouble. You know how Mrs Roberts loves to cook. Come and sit down."

"Seems real quiet in here, ma'am," Nathan commented as they sat down at the table to wait. "Where're the children?"

"Upstairs. They're having their lunch in the nursery with Constance." Amelia paused, and a faint smile curved her lips. "It's funny, but she seems to have changed since Christmas."

"Changed? How d'ya mean?" The healer frowned, hoping that the woman was not ill.

"She's more... relaxed, happier." She shook her head. "I can't explain it."

Nathan glanced across at Vin as the tracker gave him a knowing wink and he looked down so Amelia could not see the grin on his face. It appeared as if Buck had had some success after all. He had certainly been in a buoyant mood when they had returned to Four Corners after Christmas.

Just then Ben came in followed by Mrs Roberts who was pushing a small trolley laden with a large tureen and a number of soup dishes. As she wheeled it around next to Amelia's chair she gave the young tracker an indulgent smile.

"I knew you couldn't stay away too long," she said fondly and the Texan grinned.

"Reckon I missed yer cookin' too much after all," he replied, watching appreciatively as she ladled two dumplings into his dish. "Thank ya, ma'am."

As Mrs Roberts passed Nathan his dish the healer could not fail to notice that he had only received one and that his portion was considerably smaller. He shook his head wryly; it was obvious who was the favoured one around here.

The talk around the table was mainly focussed on the re-building of the barn and the fact that very little had been discovered about the perpetrators of the attack. Ben noticed that his wife had barely touched her stew and reached out to gently squeeze her hand.

"He'll be back soon, Amy." Richardson spoke softly but Amelia jumped as she realised she had been caught clock-watching and she forced a smile.

"I'm sorry," she apologised as she rose to her feet. "Would you like some more? Nathan?"

"That's mighty kind of ya, ma'am. This is real good."

Nathan held his dish out as Amelia lifted the lid from the tureen but then she suddenly gasped and the heavy china cover slipped from her fingers to shatter on the floor.

"Amy? Are you alright?" Ben spoke as all three men scrambled to their feet but it was Nathan who asked the obvious question as he saw she was clutching her hands tightly to her chest.

"Did ya burn yerself, ma'am?"

The Englishwoman looked at him for a moment in confusion, her features pale and strained.

"No... I... " Amelia got no further. She simply turned and fled from the room, leaving the men staring at each other in perplexed silence.

"Er... umm... Excuse me a moment." Ben finally found his voice, slightly embarrassed by his wife's uncharacteristic actions and followed her from the room. The two peacekeepers looked at each other and sat back down, perturbed by the strange turn of events.

"What was all that about?" Vin asked, but Nathan shook his head.

"I don't rightly know, but she seemed pretty upset." The healer frowned as he spoke, feeling slightly uneasy. The anxious look on Amelia's face made him recall a conversation he had had with James about Chris and Vin and the bond they shared. The young doctor had likened it to the link he had with his twin sister and the fact that they always seemed to know when anything was wrong with the other. Nathan sincerely hoped that there was nothing more ominous in James' late return than simply forgetting the time. Ben returned a few minutes later, his face showing his worry.

"Is she alright?" Nathan asked, and Richardson gave a wan smile as he tried to put a brave face on it.

"Yes. She's just concerned about James. She has been all morning." He sighed. "I think she was hoping he'd be back by now."

"Maybe we could take a ride out n'see where he is," Vin suggested, but Ben declined the offer.

"No, it's okay. He'll be back soon. Amy apologises, but she's a little tired. I think the strain is finally catching up with her."

"Ya could be right."

Ben nodded absently at the healer's words and then he visibly shook himself. "I'm sorry, Nathan. Would you like some more lunch? No sense in letting it go to waste."

Nathan politely refilled his dish but he merely picked at the food as Ben sat in thoughtful silence, not even acknowledging one of the kitchen girls as she came to clear away the broken shards of china. The sombre atmosphere stretched on a little longer until Roberts had brought in and served the coffee.

"Will that be all, sir?" he asked as he placed a cup on the table in front of Ben, and Richardson nodded.

"Yes, thank you. This is fine." He waited until Roberts had gone and then he looked at the two peacekeepers. "I'm sorry. I'm not being a very good host. It's just that James really should have been back by now."

"If yer that worried mebbe we should take a look around." Vin made the offer again, but before Ben could reply Roberts suddenly came back into the room, a serious expression on his face as he crossed over and spoke softly to Richardson.

"Mr Tanner's outside on the porch. He'd like an urgent word with you."

"Well, send him in," Ben ordered a little exasperated, but Roberts seemed hesitant.

"He insists on speaking to you outside." The butler paused and glanced at Vin and Nathan before he continued. "It's Doctor Owen's horse."

"James is back?" Ben climbed to his feet eagerly, his voice filled with relief.

"No, sir. Just the horse."

Richardson went white but Vin and Nathan were up and out of the door before he could move. The implications of a riderless horse hit them a shade quicker that it did Ben, but the Englishman was right behind them.

Will Tanner was holding the reins of the blowing sorrel gelding as he ran his left hand down the animal's forelegs checking for any sign of injury, but he straightened up as Ben approached.

"He came in just a minute ago," Tanner explained. "Looks like he's been runnin' hard."

Vin gave his father a brief nod of acknowledgement as he stepped round to the offside of the horse and then he suddenly stopped, reaching up to run his hand across the saddle.

"Nathan." The tracker rubbed his fingers together and then held them up to reveal the red stain that smeared them.

"Oh my God!" Ben breathed as he stared in horror at the blood on the young Texan's hand. "Amy was right!"

"Let's get the horses." There was no hesitation from Vin nor from Richardson.

"I'm coming with you."

"You go ahead, Vin. I'll wait here wit' Ben." Nathan could see that the man was shaken but there was something they needed to know and he placed a steadying hand on the Englishman's shoulder. "D'ya have any idea where James was goin'?"

"No. He never said. Just that he wouldn't be long."

"Don't worry Ben. We'll find him."

Richardson took a deep breath, his face betraying his fears as he turned to Roberts who was standing silently behind them.

"Would you tell Mrs Richardson where we've gone, and make sure she's alright?"

"Of course, sir."

"And, Roberts... ? Don't mention Doctor Owen's horse." The butler nodded gravely and went back into the house, and Ben rubbed his hand wearily across his face. "Amy knew something was wrong. What in God's name's happened to him, Nathan?"

As the two Texans hurried across to the corral it was Will who spoke first.

"Glad to see ya, son. I knew ya were here when I saw yer horse."

"Came out t'talk t'ya about what ya said, but it can wait. We gotta find James." Vin had been mulling over his dilemma for more than a week now, but his problem seemed trivial in the light of what might have happened to James Owen.

"Looks bad don't it, boy?" Will said, unconsciously echoing his son's thoughts.

"Yeah it does."

Just over ten minutes later they were leading back the four horses plus a spare which Ben eyed curiously.

"I thought it best to fetch an extra one," Will explained. "If the doc's afoot he'll need it."

"Reckon it'll be best if we split up," Nathan suggested. "We ain't sure where he went."

"No wait! I think I know," Will suddenly put in. "When I was coming back I saw him on the trail leading up to the north pasture. Don't reckon he saw me though."

"Then that's where we'll start," Ben stated grimly.

The wind was whipping the fallen snow into small drifts as the four men made their way slowly along the narrow trail that wound northwards with Ben calling his brother-in-law's name as they went, but the gusts snatched the words from his lips and tore them apart in the frigid air.

"James! James!"

They were riding in single file with Will Tanner at the front when the man suddenly brought his horse to a stop.

"Will? What is it?" Ben called out fearfully. He was behind the two Texan's and could not see what had caused them to halt.

Vin dropped from his black and hurried forward, his heart pounding as he saw the shape sprawled in the snow. Falling to his knees the young tracker felt as though the breath were being squeezed from his chest as his eyes refused to believe what he was seeing. James Owen lay face down, a faint dusting of snow already covering his still form, but it could not hide the bullet wound in the middle of his back. Even before he turned him over Vin knew he was dead and he felt the grief starting to give way to anger. With all the problems Ben Richardson had been having no-one could have foreseen this.

"Dear Lord!" The anguished words came from Nathan as he stood behind Vin, watching as the tracker gently eased the body over. He could see that there was nothing he could do - there was nothing any of them could do now - but the sense of waste for a life that promised so much was overwhelming.

"Nooo!!" The healer was brushed aside as Ben stumbled past him, falling to his knees and gathering the limp body into his arms. "James. James. Come on, wake up!"

"I'm sorry, Ben. He's gone." Nathan dropped a hand onto the distraught man's shoulder and Richardson looked up at him in despair.

"You've got to do something, Nathan!"

"I wish I could." The words seemed totally inadequate, unable to convey the healer's true feelings. The young doctor had not deserved to die like this, alone and so far from home, and there was nothing he could do to ease Ben's pain.

"Y'alright, son?" Will Tanner asked the question as Vin stood silently observing the grieving Englishman, not even reacting when the older man gripped his arm in sympathy. Instead he simply brushed it off and walked forward, studying the ground carefully as he tried to read exactly how the tragedy had unfolded. Crouching down at the edge of the trail, he fingered the lower branches of the bushes that grew along the side.

"Looks like he tried to hide under here." Vin ignored his father's solicitous comment as he indicated the marks in the snow and the bent foliage. Then he looked beyond that to where Ben Richardson still cradled the body to his chest. The tracks were deeper there and more scuffed, and he was tight-lipped with anger as he realised what had happened. "The bastards must have dragged him out and left him here to die!" he said bitterly, looking up at his father.

"Reckon yer right, boy," Will agreed grimly and looked around. The fallen snow had obliterated any tracks that there might have been, making pursuit or any hope of identification impossible.

"Vin." The tracker straightened up as Nathan came forward. "Someone's gotta tell Chris. I figgered it'd be best if we took the body into town, but Ben wants to take James home."

"Ya go ahead, Nathan. I'll go get Chris."

"It's a long ride. Ya want some company, son?" Tanner made the offer but Vin shook his head.

"No, I'll be fine." The tracker waited as Nathan and Will wrapped the body of James Owen in a blanket and carefully secured it across the saddle of the spare horse. Then without another word Vin swung into the saddle of his black gelding and rode away.

Tanner watched as his son left, his shoulders heavy with grief, and then he turned back to Ben who was still standing staring at the body in shocked disbelief.

"i'm real sorry, Mr Richardson. I wish I'd o'stopped him when I saw him earlier."

Ben scarcely heard a word the Texan said. The only thing that was going through his mind now was how he was going to tell Amy that her beloved twin was dead.

Vin did not remember much of the ride back to Four Corners, nor when the snow started to fall lightly once more. His mind was caught and held by the senseless killing of James Owen, a man who had wanted nothing more than to help people. The tracker owed his life to the Englishman's skill and care, but more than that the doctor was a good friend, and Vin felt the death of a friend keenly.

He slipped from the back of his mount outside the jailhouse but there was nobody there, so he hurried along to the next obvious point of call. Pushing aside the batwing doors to the saloon he could see Chris, Buck, and Ezra sitting around a table indulging in a game of poker whilst Josiah and JD watched over their shoulders. There was the sudden sound of raucous laghter from Buck as Chris scooped up the pot, but it was the eagle-eyed gambler who saw the Texan first.

"Why, Mr Tanner, you look like you've lost a sizeable amount of money much the same as I have just done to our esteemed leader!" the Southerner exclaimed. Chris turned round and smiled at the tracker, but his amusement faded when he saw the solemn look on Vin's face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, suddenly serious..

"James Owen is dead."

Those four words dropped amongst the peacekeepers like a bombshell, and Chris surged to his feet, his face shocked.

"Dead? What happened?"

"He was killed by some low-down, back-shootin' bastard!" Vin almost spat the words out, his voice sharp and brittle.

"Jesus!" The hiss of anger came from Buck, but it was Josiah who stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on the tracker's shoulder.

"Where'd this happen, son?" The ex-preacher could see that Vin was very upset but they needed to know the details. Taking a deep breath, the young Texan told them how James had failed to return from his morning ride and how they had gone looking for him when his horse had come back to the ranch on its own. Ezra pressed a large whiskey into his friend's hand as he faltered, and Vin downed it in one gulp.

"What're we standing around for? Let's get after them!" JD's enthusiasm was curbed by Buck's voice of reason.

"There's no point, kid. The snow will've covered any tracks by now." The ladies man glanced at Vin and received a quick nod in reply.

"We'd best get out to the ranch." Chris had been dangerously quiet for the last few minutes, his jaw clenched tight with anger. "Buck? You coming?"

"Ya just try and stop me."

"Need t'get meself a fresh horse," Vin said as the two peacekeepers moved towards the door.

"You don't have'ta come back with us." Chris could see how tired and distraught his friend was, but the young tracker shook his head.

"Yeah I do. I owe him that much."

The three peacekeepers made good time getting back to the Richardson's ranch despite the fading light and the snow which was now falling harder. A sombre-faced Nathan emerged onto the porch to meet them as they dismounted in front of the house, and a couple of Ben's hands hurried across to take the horses for them.

"Glad ya made it back afore nightfall. Ya musta ridden hard." The healer was grateful for his friends presence; he had not been looking forward to dealing with the grieving household by himself.

"How're they taking it?" Chris asked the question as they stepped inside out of the cold.

"Pretty badly." Nathan sounded fairly shaken himself. "Ben's upstairs with Amelia now. I've given her summat t'calm her down."

Nathan could still recall the woman's reaction when she had finally summoned up the courage to see her brother's body. Ben had ridden on ahead to prepare his wife for the worst, giving him and Tanner the chance to take James through to his bedroom. After a cursory examination both men had stripped and cleaned the body, and Nathan had stitched up the bullet wound.

The healer had just pulled a light sheet over the corpse when Ben and Amelia entered the room. The Englishwoman had been white-faced and tight-lipped but calm as she stepped forward, reaching out a shaking hand to pull the sheet down. There was no sign of tears as she gently smoothed back the hair from his brow and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the cold forehead. Nathan held his breath as she murmured a few inaudible words of farewell to her brother, and then she turned and buried her face against Ben's shoulder as he led her out.

"What about the kids? Do they know?" Buck's thoughts turned to Emily and Edward, realising that they would be confused and upset without knowing why.

"They know their mama's upset, but Miz Bartlett is taking care of them."

"Good, good." The ladies man turned to Chris. "Think we oughta pay our respects, don't you?"

The gunslinger nodded and Nathan led them down the hallway and through to James' bedroom. All three men removed their hats as they solemnly regarded the shrouded form on the bed.

"Dammit! It's such a waste." Buck shook his head sadly. "He weren't much older than JD."

"We'll get whoever did this." Chris could not hide the suppressed anger in his voice and Buck nodded in agreement. Up until now it was obvious that whoever was behind the previous attacks had simply been trying to scare the family off of the property. However, with the murder of James Owen events had taken on a more ominous and deadly. A moments silence fell on the room as each of them recalled their own personal memories of the Englishman whose life had so cruelly been taken.

Just then there was a discreet knock on the half-open door and Nathan turned as Charles Roberts appeared and spoke quietly to him, and the healer nodded as the butler withdrew.

"There's coffee an' brandy in the drawing room if yer interested," Nathan told them. "Ben'll be down in a while."

Buck and Chris started to follow Nathan out but the gunslinger paused when he realised that Vin was not moving.

"Hey, pard. You okay?" The tracker did not reply and Chris stepped forward and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Vin?"

"It's all my fault." The young Texan's comment was full of self-reproach and Chris blinked in surprise.

"What'd'ya mean?"

"I tried to make 'im carry a gun but he wouldn't. Said he wanted t'save lives, not take 'em." Vin sounded totally wretched as he continued to stare at the covered form. "Look where it's got 'im."

"Carrying a gun wouldn't've made a difference, Vin. He was shot in the back. There's no defence against that."

"Maybe I shoulda done more." The tracker sighed, and Chris gave his shoulder an understanding squeeze.

"Come on. Let's go find a drink."

Nathan and Buck were already sipping at their coffees when the other two peacekeepers entered the drawing room. Chris looked around but there was no sign of Richardson, but he was not unduly worried. He knew that the Englishman would not leave his distressed wife until he was ready. The gunslinger poured coffee for himself and Vin and then wandered across to the window, peering out into the main yard. Even in the dark he could see the snow settling on the ground and he was glad they had made it out to the ranch before the weather worsened.

Chris could hear Nathan talking to Vin and he threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the grim-faced tracker and he could not help thinking that his friend would not be alive now if it was not for James Owen. The gunslinger could not put a price on what he and the others owed the Englishman but all they could do now was find his killer.

Suddennly Chris heard the sound of raised voices in the hallway and as he put down his coffee cup to investigate the front door was slammed with some force. Charles Roberts was standing in the hall looking somewhat flustered as he stared at the door.

"What's going on?" the gunslinger asked.

"It's Mr Richardson, sir. He's gone out to the stables. I think he intends to ride out somewhere."

"Aw shit!" Chris swore vehemently but in a way he could understand what Ben was going through. Rational thought did not apply at a time like this. "Don't worry. I'll stop him."

The gunslinger stepped out onto the porch pulling his black duster tightly around him against the cold as he made his way through several inches of snow to the main barn. A lantern hung on a hook just inside the door and he could see Ben Richardson in the nearest stall fitting the bridle on his horse.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

Richardson ignored him and simply carried on with what he was doing and the gunslinger stepped into the stall and grabbed the man's arm, pulling him round to face him.

"Get off me!" the Englishman snapped, thrusting Chris back against the partition.

"Ben, it's - " The gunslinger never finished the sentence as Richatdson cut him off, his face white with anger.

"You call yourselves peacekeepers? Where were you when James was killed? Sitting comfortably in the saloon with your feet up no doubt." Richardson stepped forward, his face scant inches from Chris. "You said you wanted to help. Well, I don't need your kind of help. I'll find the murdering bastard by myself if I have to!"

Chris could feel his own short temper rising, but he forced himself to hold it in check. It was shock and grief that was making the man act this way and the gunslinger could remember being in that same position only a few.years ago.

"What are you hoping to find? It's dark and it's snowing hard. All you're gonna do is risk your own life."

"Well, it's better than doing nothing!"

Chris could hear the helplessness in Ben's voice and see the anger and frustration on his face but he had to make him see reason.

"I know what you're goin' through," he admitted slowly, and Ben glanced at him sharply.

"You do? How?"

The gunslinger hesitated for a moment; the past was not something that he enjoyed discussing but under the circumstances he felt that it was probably necessary.

"My wife and son were murdered a few years back. They were inour house when it was burned to the ground," he said softly, taking a deep breath before continuing. "For a long time all I wanted was revenge any way I could get it, but it don't do no good. Even when you find the person responsible, the pain doesn't go away."

Richardson stared at Chris, seeing the memories that still haunted his life, and he could feel some of the anger draining out of him. He had not realised that the gunslinger bore such a heavy burden and he felt a little ashamed of his earlier outburst.

"I know it's hard, but you gotta think about Amelia and the children. They need you now, more than ever."

There was a long silence and Ben backed away, his shoulders slumping as he lowered his gaze.

"She blames me, you know, and perhaps she's right," he stated softly. "Maybe I should have stopped him when she asked me to." Ben would never forget the look on his wife's face when he had ridden in ahead of the others. She had been standing on the porch waiting, but he never had the chance to tell her.

'He's dead, isn't he?' was all she had said to him, and he could only nod mutely as he gathered her to him. However, her calmness had only lasted until after she had seen her brother's body. By the time he had got her up to their room she was almost hysterical with grief, and Nathan had given her a mild sedative to calm her down.

Richardson had stayed with her after she had cried herself to sleep, not even thinking to check on the children, but he was not prepared for her bitter accusations when she awoke some hours later from her uneasy doze.

'This is all your fault. If you had sold this place when you had the chance my brother would still be alive.' Ben had tried to reason with her but she had pushed him away, screaming at him to get out of her sight.

"Everybody needs someone else to blame," Chris told him. "Sometimes that's the only way we can deal with it." He placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get in out o'the cold."

Richardson gave a sigh of resignation as he removed the bridle from his horse and the two men - alike yet unalike - walked back to the house through the swirling snow.

Part Seven

The funeral of Doctor James Owen took place on the last Sunday in January, four days after his body had been discovered on the trail to the north pasture.

Despite her grief and distress Amelia Richardson had made it perfectly clear that she wanted her brother buried at the ranch, the last place he had called home. Both Nathan and Ben had expressed their doubts about the choice of James' final resting place but Amelia was adamant and in the end they had acquiesced to her wishes. It was decided that the walled garden would be the most suitable place. In addition to it being directly overlooked by the rooms James had occupied in life, it had the extra security of being secluded and protected from unwanted trespassers and animals.

Once the arrangements had been finalised Buck had ridden back to Four Corners to inform the other peacekeepers and Mary Travis, and any of the towns people who might want to come and pay their last respects to the young doctor. On hearing the tragic news Josiah had ridden out to the ranch immediately to offer spiritual comfort to the grieving family and to consecrate the ground in readiness for the burial. Ben's hands had rallied round and cleared the garden area in preparation for the internment, and Tom Steen had fashioned a suitable coffin for a man they had all grown to like and respect.

The Sunday dawned crisp and clear, the sky a bright cloudless blue and even the frost had disappeared by the time the mourners arrived from town. By half-past eleven everyone was congregated in the walled garden. Amelia Richardson, heavily veiled to hide her deep sorrow, was supported by her husband as they waited for the service to begin. To Ben's right Constance Bartlett comforted their two children, an arm around each of them as they clutched at her skirt, bewildered and upset.

Mary Travis stood to Amelia's left and a few paces back with JD and Ezra. The newspaperwoman had been devastated to learn of the young doctor's murder, and she had written a heartwrenching account of James' untimely and violent death in the latest edition of The Clarion. At Ben's request - the Englishman had given a letter to Buck when he had returned to town - Mary had placed a notice in the paper offering a substantial reward for the capture and conviction of James Owen's killer but so far nothing had come to light.

Alongside Mary and the peacekeepers were Mr and Mrs Roberts with the two kitchen girls, and some of the more prominent business people from Four Corners. Opposite them on the other side of the open grave, Will Tanner and all of the ranchhands stood in respectful silence, with heads bowed and their hats in their hands.

At a pre-arranged signal from Josiah James Owen made his final journey from the house, his coffin carried by the four peacekeepers who knew him best. All of them were bare-headed and sombre as they slowly walked forward but with Chris and Vin there was also an underlying air of anger. Placing the coffin carefully on the planks covering the open grave they stepped back as the ex-preacher opened his prayer book and began to read.

"I am the resurrection and the life, sayeth the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whoever liveth and beliveth in me shall never die," he intoned solemnly. As he continued with the service Josiah became aware of the sound of low sobbing as Amelia Richardson wept for her twin. A little further along both Mary and Mrs Roberts pressed handkerchiefs to their faces as they tried unsuccessfully to hold back their own tears. Closing his prayer book the ex-preacher glanced around at the people gathered in the walled garden.

"Just over four months ago James Owen came to this country with his family in search of a new beginning. They came with hope and expectations but they found the path to their own particular promised land blocked by violence and intimidation." Like his fellow peacekeepers Josiah felt a strong sense of anger at the senseless waste of a young life that had promised so much, and he could not keep the emotion from his words. "Amelia and Ben have lost a cherished member of their family and that loss can never be replaced, and his friends share their grief as they also mourn his tragic passing. Some of you only knew James as a quiet, caring, sensitive person, but there are others in this gathering who owe him more than can ever be repaid."

Chris saw Josiah's gaze pause on Vin, and he glanced sideways at the young tracker. He watched as his friend bowed his head, biting his lip as he tried to keep his sorrow and anger in check. The gunslinger knew that his own feelings echoed those of the Texan and he was painfully aware that without James' skill as a doctor Vin would not be standing beside him now. That was a debt that Chris would never be able to repay in this life or the next.

"James never had the chance to realise his full potential, but the loss of this vibrant, caring soul is the Lord's gain." Josiah lowered his head as he began to recite the 23rd Psalm before asking the mourners to join him saying the Lord's Prayer. As the murmured 'Amen' died away the four peacekeepers gathered up the ropes and took the strain of the coffin, two of Ben's hands coming forward to remove the planks of wood from beneath it.

"Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery," Josiah began as his friends started to lower the coffin into the grave. "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the sould of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground." Josiah reached down and picked up a handful of soil, trickling it slowly over the coffin as he spoke the last part of the service. "Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in the sure and certain knowledge of the Resurrection."

Ben Richardson followed his lead, scooping up more of the freshly dug earth and dropping it onto the coffin of his brother-in-law. White petals fluttered slowly down as several small blooms from a wild dog-rose were also dropped into the grave by Amelia, and she leaned heavily against her husband for support as the grief and emotion became too much for her to bear.

Josiah bowed his head in silent prayer as Ben led the inconsolable Englishwoman back into the house followed slowly by the other mourners, some of them pausing to drop their own handfuls of earth into the grave. Ezra brushed the dirt from his fingers as he showed his respect and he offered his arm to the weeping Mary, but Chris and Vin remained where they were standing as some of the hands began to fill the grave in.

"Vin?" Chris placed a hand on the young Texan's shoulder as his friend continued to stare down at James Owen's grave.

"We gotta find the bastards that did this, Chris." The tracker's voice was low, filled with barely suppressed anger as his hands clenched into fists.

"We will," the gunslinger vowed, and then he looked up as he became aware of someone watching them. Josiah was just going back into the house but Will Tanner lingered, his eyes fixed on his son as he waited for Vin to join him. Then his gaze shifted to Chris Larabee, and the fury in the gunslinger's cold stare made him reconsider. With so many emotions simmering dangerously close to the surface he had no wish to repeat his earlier quarrels with the black-dressed peacekeeper. Without a word he turned on his heel and followed Josiah.

The atmosphere in the drawing room was vastly different from the last time that JD had been here. As the young peacekeeper stood alone beside the hearth sipping on a glass of wine, he found himself remembering another funeral that had touched and changed his life forever.

His mother might only have been a servant in the big house back East but they had marked her passing with affection and respect. The sombre mood was exactly the same but whilst his mother had succumbed to a life-threatening illness, the murder of James Owen was simply baffling. JD could think of no reason why anyone would want to harm him; even though he had not known the doctor as well as some of his friends he could see no motive for the senseless murder. During the previous attacks on the property none of the family had been seriously hurt. Could it be that James had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Looking around the room he could see the way people had congregated into little groups, talking quietly as they drank and picked at the food that had been laid out by the tearful servants. His gaze settled on Vin as he stood by the window talking with his father. The conversation seemed quite intense, the tracker nodding earnestly to something that the older man had said but then JD noticed Ben Richardson coming back into the room, walking across to join Buck and Chris.

"How's Amelia?" Buck asked as the Englishman reached for a glass of whiskey, and Ben downed the strong liquor in one go before replying.

"Not too good. I've left her upstairs with Nathan and Mary." He gave a heavy sigh. "I don't think she's ever going to get over losing him like this."

"You never do." Chris' voice was low as he remembered his own murdered family. The years might pass slowly by but the pain never really went away. There was a moments silence and then Ben looked grimly at the two peacekeepers.

"I think you ought to know that we've decided to sell up and move back east."

Buck looked surprised but it was Chris who answered. "So you're just giving up?" He sounded disappointed and a little angry.

"Giving up doesn't come into it," Richardson replied calmly. "Amy doesn't want to stay here now, and I'm terrified for my children. Surely you can understand that, Chris?"

The gunslinger looked away. Ben's remark had hit too close to home, and he had no answer to that.

"So when you planning on leaving?" Buck voiced the question when he saw the pain on his friend's face.

"As soon as I can get into town and put the place on the market. Of course Constance, Charles, and Annie will come with us but the rest of the staff and the hands will be paid off." There was regret in the Englishman's voice at the ending of his dream but his family were much more important than any vision he might have held for the future.

Chris looked up as Ben spoke about laying off the ranch-hands and he could not help glancing across to Vin and Will Tanner. Did the older Texan know? Was he intending to stay in Four Corners, and if he did how would this affect Vin? Even as he thought this the young tracker looked up and met his gaze but he looked away again quickly, the guilt evident in his blue eyes. Chris drew a sharp breath, wondering what his friend was trying to hide, and he was on the point of confronting him when Nathan came into the room to join them.

"Nathan?"

"She's resting for now," the healer replied to Ben's question. "Mary's gonna stay with her fer a while, and I've left a sleeping draught in case she needs it."

Nathan guessed that Amelia would not take the potion he had left. She had been strong up until today but now she was inconsolable in her loss and it was more than likely that she would cry herself to sleep. The healer was helpless; he himself felt the death of James Owen keenly, and there was nothing he could say or do to ease Amelia's pain.

"Vin? Did ya hear what I said?"

The tracker blinked at his father's question, tearing his gaze away from Chris. He had barely heard the older man's comments about being paid off; his attention had been focussed on the gunslinger and what he was thinking, and he knew Chris would not be happy with the choice he had just made to himself. That had been the main reason for him riding out with Nathan, but the death of James Owen had pushed everything else into the background.

Until now.

"I know this don't seem the time or place t'be asking, but I need t'know," Tanner went on. "I'll be movin' on real soon and I wanna know if yer gonna come wit' me."

Vin looked at his father, seeing the pleading in his eyes, and he knew what his decision would be but there was something Will Tanner needed to know first.

"I'll come wit' ya gladly, but... "

"Yer worried 'bout the bounty on yer head," Tanner finished for him, and Vin's jaw dropped open in astonishment. He had never told his father about the five hundred dollar reward on his head and he was amazed that the man knew.

"But.. how... ?"

"Told ya before, boy. I bin lookin' for ya fer a long time. I made it m'business t'find out all about ya. " Tanner smiled. "I knew all about the reward afore I found ya an' it don't make a heap o' difference t'me. I know ya ain't no killer."

For a long moment Vin did not reply. Everything Chris had worried about - the gunslinger's fear that Tanner was only after the bounty - seemed totally unfounded now and it made the tracker's decision that much easier. Despite this he knew that Chris would still try to put obstacles in his way but at least now he was certain.

"Me'n Chris always intended to go back to Tascosa t'clear m'name, but... "

"We can do it together if ya want. Just you and me. Then nothing'll stand in our way."

Vin looked at his father long and hard. He had never imagined himself settling down because the price on his head meant he would be constantly looking over his shoulder, neccessity and his own restless spirit driving him from place to place. He had stayed in Four Corners longer than he had intended, mainly because of the companionship he had found with Chris Larabee and the others but now he had the chance of a new life with real family. It was not an opportunity he was going to give up easily.

+ + + + + + +

Two days later Ben Richardson made good his promise and came into town to put his ranch up for sale. As he stepped out of the Land Office he saw Chris and Vin walking along the boardwalk and he waited for them to come closer.

"Well, it's done," he said as the two peacekeepers stopped in front of him. "The place is up for sale and Mr Reynold's doesn't think it'll be too long before he finds a buyer."

"Sorry it had to come to this, Ben." Chris knew there was no point in trying to dissuade the Englishman. Under the circumstances he would probably have done the same thing himself.

"So am I." Richardson sounded downcast, and he appeared to have aged considerably over the last few days. There were worry lines about his eyes and mouth that had not been there before. He sighed. "Emily keeps asking for her Uncle James. I just don't know what to say to her."

"What about Amelia?" Vin asked, trying not to think about the confused little girl.

"She seems to be getting worse each day." Ben rubbed wearily at his brow, unable to look at either man. James' death seemed to have taken all the fight out of Amelia, and the strong willed woman he had married had faded to a shadow of her former self. Ever since the funeral she had kept to her room, barely eating and hardly talking to anyone, not even the children. "I thank God for Constance," he went on fervently. "She has been an absolute blessing with Edward and Emily!"

Chris regarded the man for a moment and then took a deep breath. "I wish there was more we could have done," he said at length.

"I'm not blaming you," Ben replied. "I know I might have said some things I shouldn't... " He paused, thinking back to the time in the stable when he had flung accusations at the black-dressed gunslinger. "Your friendship has meant a lot to me. It's meant a lot to all of us, and it's something I'll never forget." He held out his hand to Chris and then to Vin. "I'd better be getting back now, but I'll see you all before we leave."

The two peacekeepers watched as Ben unfastened the sorrel gelding from the hitching rail and swung into the saddle.

"Don't seem right fer a family t'have so much trouble heaped on 'em," Vin said softly as Ben Richardson rode away.

"It ain't over!" Chris stated emphatically. "We'll get the people who did this." The gunslinger sounded more confident than he felt; there had been no response to the reward posted in The Clarion and he was beginning to think that there never would be. The person or persons responsible seemed to have vanished from the Territory. It was bitterly frustrating to think that whoever had decided to run the Richardson's off of their property had succeeded with such devastating consequences and despite their protection. "I think I need a drink."

"Reckon that's a good idea."

As they started to make their way towards the saloon Chris kept thinking about what Ben had said and what was going to happen to the ranch once the Richardsons had gone.

"So what'll your pa do now?" The gunslinger had to ask the question, the word 'pa' almost sticking in his throat, and he missed the look of dismay on Vin's face. The tracker stopped, not daring to look at Chris. He had been dreading this moment ever since he had made his decision and he had been wondering exactly how he was going to tell the gunslinger.

"He's bin thinkin' 'bout moving on fer a while now, even before all this happened. He's got some money saved up to buy a little place of his own." Now the tracker did look at his friend. "I'm going with him, Chris."

Chris Larabee felt numb as he stared back at the Texan. All along he had thought this moment would come, but he had been hoping that Vin's decision would be different. He thought back to the guilty look at James Owen's funeral and he should have realised then that the tracker had made his choice, but he was still denying it.

"Was gonna tell ya but I ain't had the chance." Vin's words came out in a rush. "He's family, Chris, and it's what I wanna do. I know ya don't think much of him, but it's my decision."

Chris continued to stare at him, and then a slow mocking smile crept over his face. "So you're gonna be a farmer's boy? Ploughing fields and tending sheep?" The gunslinger raised an eyebrow in query. "That ain't for you, Vin. You're not the settling kind."

"It was good enough fer you once." There was a bite to Vin's reply, and he felt angry at the way his friend was belittling him. "Why shouldn't I have that chance?"

"'Cos it ain't right." The gunslinger was clutching at straws now. "How long before you have to run? What are y'gonna tell him?"

"He knows about the bounty, Chris. Has done fer a-while. We're aiming to go to Tascosa. Clear m'name once an' fer all." Vin saw the hurt on his friend's face at that statement. That was something they had always planned to do together, but now someone else had usurped the gunslinger's place and there was nothing the tracker could do about it.

"Seems like you got it all worked out." Chris calmly forced the words out when all he wanted to do was beat some sense into his friend.

"I'm sorry, Chris, but I gotta take this chance." Vin tensed, waiting for the inevitable explosion that never came. The gunslinger looked him up and down, his gaze almost contemptuous.

"To hell with you then," he breathed, brushing past the tracker as though he wasn't there.

"Chris - wait!"

The gunslinger ignored him and Vin watched as he headed towards the Livery, feeling utterly miserable. He knew that Chris would take the news badly and he was prepared for an argument, but this was not how he imagined things would turn out.

+ + + + + + +

Chris Larabee swung the axe once again, feeling some of the tension drain from his body as the log split in half.

It had been four days since he had ridden from Four Corners after his altercation with Vin, four days in which the gunslinger had fumed and brooded on his friend's decision to leave. It was not the leaving that bothered him - he had always known that Vin was a free spirit, not fettered to a person or a place - but it was the person he was leaving with that made him so angry and fearful.

Chris knew that escaping to the haven of his small cabin in the hills was a rash, almost immature, reaction to Vin's news but he could not help himself. Retreat was his favourite solution to something that might cause him pain. Whether it was the solace of a bottle or the solitude of his own company, running away from a problem was a habit he could not easily break.

The gunslinger instinctively knew that Vin was making the biggest mistake of his life by trusting Will Tanner. Hell, for all he knew the decision could well cost the tracker his life. After all these months he still could not explain why he felt the way he did even though everybody else had accepted Tanner for who he was. What hurt the most was Vin's intention of going back to Tascosa with his father to try and clear his name. It had always been something that he had planned to do with the tracker; only days into their friendship Vin had confided in him about the bounty, and the trust shown to him by the young Texan had sealed the hitherto unbreakable bond between them.

Chris placed another log on the block and hefted the axe once more. However, this time the blade did not cut cleanly. A sliver of wood still joined the two halves and the gunslinger picked it up and studied it for a moment. Separating two lives would not be so easy either; Chris could not understand why he had let somebody back into his life, and he was angry with himself for letting his guard down but it was too late now. Vin Tanner had become an inextricable part of his very existence and he was not going to let him go without a fight.

Suddenly Buck's words came back to haunt him. 'You're afraid he's gonna take Vin away from you.' The ladies man had said that to him on the night that James Owen had operated on the seriously ill tracker and Chris had accused him of talking crap. But no matter how much he tried to deny it he was now ready to admit that Buck was right and his worst fears were coming true. However much he valued the easy companionship of Buck and the others, it was Vin's continued presence that had curbed his own wanderlust and given him purpose, and up until now he had not seen an end to it.

His mind made up Chris spiked the axe into the chopping block and walked back towards the cabin to wash and gather his belongings together. There was no point brooding about what might have been. This time he was going to confront his problems head on without running away. He owed Vin that much and he was determined to do his damndest to persuade his friend to stay.

+ + + + + + +

Most of the towns people watched silently as the procession of wagons moved slowly down the main street and came to a halt in front of the newspaper office. The Richardsons had sailed from England and come west with hopes and aspirations of a dream to fulfill, but that dream had turned into a tragic nightmare and the residents of Four Corners had turned out to bid them farewell as a mark of respect.

Mary Travis was waiting on the boardwalk with Chris, her expression sad and sombre as the wagons approached. Vin lounged against an upright a little further along, keeping his distance from the gunslinger. Ever since Chris had returned to town there had been a definite air of tension between the two friends, although neither mentioned Will Tanner's imminent departure. Ben Richardson stopped the lead wagon and tied the reins around the brake handle before climbing down.

"Didn't think you'd be going this soon," Chris said as he eyed the tight-lipped Englishman. "Thought you might at least waited until the weather improved."

"I was going to but Amy... " He paused, looking up at his wife as she sat hunched on the seat of the wagon. The woman looked frail and ill, a far cry from the happy, convivial hostess that had made Christmas such a pleasure. The death of her twin brother seemed to have drained all the vitality from her. "She can't bear to stay there any longer and to be honest I'm worried about her health."

"Which way you heading?" Chris asked.

"We'll be stopping at Eagle Bend for a few days, and then we'll head towards Boston. We're going to take it slow, stopping where we can along the way." Ben gestured towards the rear of the convoy. "Some of the hands are willing to come with us to handle the stock, so we'll have ample protection."

Chris looked back along the line, recognising Tom Steen and some of the younger men, but he was disapointed to find that Will Tanner was not amongst them. Almost in answer to the gunslinger's thoughts Ben Richardson turned to Vin.

"Your father's waiting for you at the ranch," he told the tracker. "But he said he's only going to wait for one day. Then he's leaving." Vin gave a tight nod, pointedly ignoring the glare that Chris threw in his direction as he leaned forward to shake the Englishman's hand. Then Ben stepped back to the wagon and drew a small bundle from under the seat. He gave his wife a brief smile as he walked up to Nathan, who was standing beside Josiah, and placed the package in his hands. "Amy wanted you to have these."

Nathan was speechless as he unwrapped the bundle and stared down in disbelief at the medical tomes he had admired in James' study.

"They were James' most treasured possessions," Ben told him. "And we know he would have wanted you to have them."

"Thank you," the healer forced out past the lump in his throat, and the Englishman nodded.

"God be with you, my friend." Josiah stepped forward and grasped Ben's hand. "I pray you find peace on your journey."

"Thank you." Richardson turned away and his gaze came to rest on Mary Travis. "Mary, I'd like to thank you for all you've done. You've been a good friend to Amy and I'm grateful for that."

"I'm so sorry it had to end this way." Mary was close to tears as she reached out and clasped Ben's hands in her own.

"So am I." The Englishman drew her forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he stepped back and regarded Chris solemnly. "I know you won't give up until you find James' killers, and I'd be grateful if you'd keep us informed once we're back in Boston."

"You got my word on that," the gunslinger stated.

"There's just one more thing before we go." Chris glanced up curiously as Ben gestured to one of the hands holding the horses in check. The man rode forward leading the pale grey Arab mare that the gunslinger had admired on his first visit to Richardson's ranch. "I'd like you to have her. Her name's Pasha." Ben could not help smiling at the stunned expression on the gunslinger's face. "I know she'll be in good hands and maybe some day she'll rekindle your dreams."

"I can't accept her, Ben." Chris was embarrassed by the Englishman's generosity. He had a very good idea of the value of such an animal.

"I won't take no for an answer." Richardson was equally determined. "You saved my life, Chris. It's the least I can do."

"Thank you." Chris shook the man's hand warmly as the mare was tied to the hitching rail. Ben looked over to JD, Ezra, and Buck and nodded in farewell before going back to the wagon and climbing up onto the seat. Mary came forward and stood beside Chris as Richardson gathered up the reins.

"You will write I hope?" she asked, and Ben nodded.

"As soon as we're settled," he promised. The Englishman flicked the reins over the horses backs and the wagon rolled forward. Chris watched grim-faced, angry that he had been unable to prevent the final tragedy that had forced the Richardsons off their land. Then he heard Mary swallow noisily and he realised the woman was crying. As she put a handkerchief up to her eyes the gunslinger slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close in a rare display of affection. Like the peacekeepers Mary Travis had counted the family as good friends, especially Amelia, and they were all sorry to see them leave under such traumatic circumstances.

Whilst Ben was talking with Chris and Mary, Buck had been silently watching Constancce Bartlett as she sat on the second wagon with the two children. The governess did not acknowledge him until the driver urged his team forward to follow the lead wagon. Then she turned her startling silver-grey eyes to the ladies man and a regretful smile came to her lips as Buck politely tipped his hat in farewell. They had enjoyed their brief dalliance over Christmas but they both knew that it would have gone no further and they were content to leave it like that.

Mary and the peacekeepers continued to watch until the wagons diappeared from view and then she pulled out of the gunslinger's grasp as she felt him suddenly tense beside her.

"Chris? What's wrong?" She saw the way he was glancing around, obviously searching for something or someone.

"Excuse me, Mary."

It was only as the gunslinger turned and walked quickly away that she realised Vin Tanner was nowhere to be seen.

Chris was not entirely surprised that Vin had disappeared, but as he strode down the main street he instinctively knew where he would find the tracker. Sure enough, as he turned into the alleyway he found the Texan standing at the rear of his wagon sifting through some of his belongings. He could feel his anger building as he recalled what Richardson had told Vin, that Will Tanner would wait for him but only for a day. The gunslinger was furious that the older Texan was putting undue pressure on Vin, forcing him to rush headlong into a situation that he might not be able to deal with. However, Chris knew that he had to try and keep his feelings under control; if he lost his temper with Vin now he would be just as responsible for driving him away.

"Guess this means you're leaving then?"

Vin jumped, spinning round at the sound of the gunslinger's voice. He had been so pre-occupied that he had failed to detect Chris' approach but then he relaxed slightly and turned back to what he was doing.

"Already told ya I gotta take this chance," the tracker replied without looking at his friend.

"And if it's the wrong choice?"

"Then it's my mistake. I ain't ever gonna know if it's right or wrong lessen I do it."

Chris could hear the determination in Vin's words as he carefully packed a few more items into his saddlebags. Amongst them was a small carved box which the tracker handled almost reverently, and Chris guessed it had something to do with his past. It may even have belonged to Vin's mother, and for the first time the gunslinger realised just what he was up against. It was evident that family ties were important to Vin and Chris wondered just how he was going to fight that.

"So there's nothing I can say to make you change your mind?"

Vin turned and looked at the gunslinger and for once he was unable to read the unspoken message in his friend's hazel eyes.

"You'd know if there was, cowboy," he replied softly and continued with his packing. Chris stood there for a little while longer, silently watching and unable to find the right words.

When Vin looked up a few seconds later the gunslinger was gone. Slamming his fist against the side of his wagon the tracker cursed Chris Larabee. When the chips were down and Chris was fighting against almost hopeless odds the gunslinger was braver than any man he had ever met, but when it came to expressing his true feelings his courage had failed him. If Chris had only said 'I need you to stay' then he probably would have.

Leaving was not a decision he had made lightly, and he hoped that the others would understand his reasons. Their friendship was something he could not put a price on and he would miss the comfortable companionship immensely, but a new life with his father beckoned him and he was not prepared to let that chance pass him by.

+ + + + + + +

The snow was just starting to fall as Vin made his way down to the Livery, thick white flakes that settled on the icy ground and muted the usual morning noises.

He had spent the early part of the previous evening in the saloon, talking and drinking with his friends. Although on the whole they were pleased for him the overall mood was sombre as they realised that Vin's leaving heralded the break-up of the close-knit unit and a major change for all of them. However, at the point that Chris arrived at the saloon, morose and silent, Vin had slipped away. He had wanted to say goodbye to Mary and Billy in private before the morning.

As he walked through the side door of the Livery and removed his horse's bridle from where it hung, he was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not see Chris standing in the shadows until he had reached his black gelding's stall.

"What ya doin' out so early?" he asked as he stopped before his friend.

"Didn't think I was gonna make it easy for you, did you?" Chris made his words sound casual, but he was far from happy. He had tried to get himself drunk in the saloon, but for once it had not worked. It seemed as though the more whiskey he drank, the more sobre he remained as he brooded on his friend's departure. There was no relief at the boarding house either; he had spent most of the night lying awake or pacing the room, and now he was tired out and thoroughly miserable.

"Nope. Was kinda hopin' ya'd understand though." The tracker sounded weary, as though he too had spent a sleepless night.

"What's to understand? D'you really know what you're doing?" The gunslinger saw the flash of anger that passed across Vin's face, but the tracker's voice was still even as he replied.

"I thought about it a lot. I know it might not work out, but I gotta give it a try." He sighed. "I can't not go." He stepped into the stall and slipped the bridle over his mounts head. The young Texan could feel Chris' eyes on him, accusing and angry, but he remained silent as he put the saddle in place.

The gunslinger was almost at the end of his patience now, and the only way he could see of stopping Vin was by force, but that was not a path he was prepared to tread. Yet. As Vin picked up the reins and started to lead his horse out Chris stepped forward barring his way.

"How do you know you can trust him?" The gunslinger made a final attempt to dissuade him. "How d'you know he won't turn you in at the first opportunity?"

"Ya just don't get it, do ya?" Vin snapped in exasperation as he pushed past Chris. "He's m'pa!"

"That ain't no answer, Vin, and you know it!"

"It's the only one I got, cowboy." The tracker led his horse out into the falling snow, and then he looked up in surprise as Buck hurried towards him. "Y'ain't gonna try'n stop me as well, are ya?"

"Hell no, pard. I know better'n that." The ladies man stopped and gripped his shoulder briefly. "You just take care, y'hear?"

"I will." Vin glanced over his shoulder to where Chris Larabee stood just inside the doorway. "Tell him I said goodbye." Swinging into the saddle the tracker turned his horse's head and cantered out of town.

Buck watched until he was no longer in sight, his heart heavy as he considered the repercussions of Vin's actions. He knew that this was what Chris had feared the most, and it looked as though the ladies man was going to have to pick up the pieces once again. Taking a deep breath he turned but the gunslinger was no longer standing there.

"Aw shit!" Buck cursed softly under his breath. He knew exactly what Chris intended to do. As he expected the gunslinger was saddling up the gelding, his face set and determined.

"Don't get in my way, Buck." Chris did not look up from fastening the girth. "I'm going after him."

"D'you really think that's such a good idea?" Buck leaned against the entrance to the stall, waiting for his friend to look round, but the gunslinger kept his back turned.

"How the hell should I know? But I can't just do nothing."

"Chris, you gotta let him go. He's gotta find his own way." Buck gritted his teeth, waiting for his friend's inevitable angry outburst, or at least one of his infamous glares, but neither materialised.

"Ain't prepared to do that. I can't afford to lose him, too." Chris sounded quite calm, but Buck could detect the emotion behind his words and he knew exactly what he meant. It was ironic that the gunslinger had finally admitted his true feelings now that Vin had left and the ladies man cursed his friend's stubborn nature.

"Vin can take care of himself, Chris. He won't thank you for interfering in his business."

"I can't help that. Will Tanner's gonna get him killed and I aim to stop that happening." This had been Chris' biggest concern all along; whether by accident or design Tanner was ultimately going to be responsible for the tracker's death.

"What're y'gonna do? Hogtie the boy and drag him back to town?"

"If I have to."

"And Tanner?"

Chris looked up and regarded Buck steadily, grim resolve in his eyes. "I'll do whatever’s neccessary."

The tone of his voice sent a chill down Buck's spine and he stood up straighter, blocking the gunslinger's way. "Chris... " he warned slowly.

"Don't worry, Buck. I ain't about to do anything stupid."

The ladies man frowned as he stared long and hard at his black-dressed friend. If Chris had said that a few years back Buck would not have believed him, given his reckless and oft-times irresponsible nature. However, he had changed now, taking his role as peacekeeper very seriously, but that did not mean that he would not act rashly if Vin's life were in danger.

"Alright, but at least let me come with ya. Maybe the two of us can talk some sense into him."

"No, Buck. This is something I have to do myself."

Buck pursed his lips and looked down, shaking his head in resignation. He could see that there was no point arguing with Chris any further - all he could do now was trust in the gunslinger's judgement.

"Just be careful. Don't push him too far."

The yard was deserted as Chris rode towards the main corral of the Richardson place, but Vin's black gelding was fastened to the top rail and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had hoped to catch up with the young Texan before he had gone too far but Buck had delayed him longer than he had realised, allowing the tracker time to reach his destination. The journey out had done nothing to improve his mood; if anything it had given him more time to dwell on his friend's impulsive decision to leave. As he slipped from the back of his horse he looped the reins over the top rail and glanced around anxiously.

"Vin!" he yelled. "I know you're here. Show yourself!"

The door of the bunkhouse slowly opened and the gunslinger spun around drawing his Colt from its holster but he relaxed slightly as Vin stepped out. The tracker came towards him, his face set and determined as he stopped a few feet in front on Chris.

"I ain't about t'change my mind, Chris. I'm still going wit' him." The young Texan was under no illusions why Chris had followed him. To be honest, he should have expected it but it didn't make the leaving any easier. He felt as though he was being torn in two; he knew that if he left now with his father he would surely lose that special friendship he shared with Chris, and there would be no going back. On the other hand if he stayed he would never know what it was like to be part of a real family, and his heart yearned for that opportunity. He shook his head sadly. "I jus' wish ya could see my side of it."

"All I can see is a damn fool!" As usual Chris allowed his anger to block the path of reason and it did not occur to him that all he was doing was pushing Vin further away. The tracker shrugged; he knew the gunslinger was trying to goad him into some kind of reaction, but he had known Chris too long to fall for that.

"If wantin' t'be wit' family makes ya a fool then I must be one o' the biggest," Vin told him evenly.

"Family?" The gunslinger snorted derisively as he stepped forward, his face inches from Vin's. "All you've done is jumped at the first stranger who's come along and claimed he's your pa!" Chris waved his hand dismissively. "I thought you had more brains than that. Mebbe I've just been wasting my time with our friendship."

"Reckon we both have." Despite his best efforts Vin could feel the spark of anger smouldering just beneath the surface, although he still held a strong feeling of regret that things should have reached this point.

"Can't you see what he's doing?"

"Tell me, Chris - what is he doin'?" The tracker's temper was starting to simmer now and there was a bite to his words that should have warned the other man. "He's just trying to make up for all the lost years. What's wrong with that?"

"If only I could believe that, I - " Chris never had the chance to finish. Vin's face darkened and he stabbed an accusing finger at the gunslinger.

"Ya've had it in for him from the the very first day ya set eyes on him!" Vin did not stop to think about what he was saying now. All he wanted to do was hit back. "Just 'cos ya ain't got a family anymore don't give ya the right t'deny me mine!" Vin saw Chris go white, his expression stunned as though he had been struck by a hammer, and the tracker could barely believe he had uttered those words himself. It was such a low blow that it made him feel physically sick but it was impossible to take them back now. Without another word he turned and started to walk away.

Chris was still reeling from the hurtful and unexpected comment, the words cutting deep into his soul, but he was not prepared to let Vin walk out of his life like this. This was not the way for it to end. Stepping forward he grabbed the tracker's arm, swinging him around to face him.

"Get off me!" Vin snapped out as he shoved Chris back a few paces. "Ya don't own me!"

The sudden gunshot that echoed around the yard startled both men but it was Chris who staggered back with a hiss of pain, his Colt dropping from his grasp as he clutched at his right forearm. Blood dripped from between his fingers as Vin turned, his hand reaching for his sawn-off Winchester as Will Tanner emerged from the bunkhouse, his smoking revolver still aimed at Chris Larabee.

"What the hell... ?" Vin began, moving his hand away from his own weapon.

"This has gone far enough," Tanner said, his steely blue gaze never leaving the gunslinger.

"Ya didn't have t'shoot 'im!" There was shocked accusation in Vin's voice.

"I thought he was gonna kill ya, boy." Tanner felt justified by his explanation. The argument appeared to have reached a dangerous level and he did not want to see anything happen to Vin.

"Then you're a bigger fool than he is!" the gunslinger gritted out, looking directly at Vin. The tracker knew he had been in no danger from Chris but the older Tanner's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Get his gun, Vin," Will ordered. Vin hesitated for a moment but then he stepped forward and retrieved the gunslinger's Colt, tucking it into the waistband of his own pants. He could feel Chris' eyes boring into him as he moved to obey his father and his jaw clenched tightly at the next derogatory statement to come out of the gunslinger's mouth.

"He's certainly got you dancing to his tune now."

"Don't!" Vin's blue eyes flashed fire but Tanner laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"Leave it, son." Reaching up he pulled the bandana from around his neck and held it out. "Here. Ya'd best wrap his arm up." The tracker took the square of material and folded it longways. Chris reluctantly took his hand away from the wound, allowing Vin to bind the makeshift bandage around his forearm, wincing as the young Texan tied the knot just a shade too tightly. The gunslinger didn't say a word as he glared at Vin, but the hurt and disappointment was plain to see. "Ya'd best go saddle ma hoss, boy. We'll be leaving as soon as I've set things right wit' ya friend here."

For a long moment Vin stood there, looking from one to the other. He had already been unnerved by his father's actions towards Chris, even though it might have appeared to be warranted, but a nagging doubt was creeping into his mind. Even as he wavered Chris placed himself in the firing line once again.

"You just run along and do what your pappy tells you," he said condascendingly, and Vin's hesitation turned to anger once more. He spun on his heel and strode into the barn without a backward glance.

"Ya just had t'interfere." Tanner gave a heavy sigh as he regarded the gunslinger. "Why couldn't ya jus' let it be?"

"I ain't no quitter!" Chris was in no doubt about Tanner's intentions. "You might have fooled Vin, but I still say you're a stinking liar! I just hope he finds out before it's too late."

"Too late for what, Larabee?" The Texan almost spat the words out.

“It’s the bounty you’re after. That’s all he ever was to you.” To the gunslinger’s amazement Tanner laughed.

“Is that what ya think?” Will shook his head. “If I’d a-wanted the five hundred bucks I coulda taken Vin a long time ago when he got sick, but m’boy’s worth more’n that to me and there’s an end to it.”

Although he hated to admit it Chris could hear the ring of truth in Tanner’s words and it confused him. However, there was one thing he was certain of.

"I know you're behind all the trouble the Richardson's had." It was not merely a lucky guess on Chris' part. It was something he had suspected for a long time although he had no proof, and he was not surprised by Tanner's response.

"What makes ya think that?"

"I just know."

"Ya know nothin'! Ya'd do anythin' t'turn m'boy against me!"

"Who's paying you? Royal? The railroad?" Chris ignored Tanner's reference to Vin as he pressed home his point but the Texan laughed mockingly.

"Ya have no idea who it is. Did ya think I was gonna be happy with just foreman's pay? There was easy money t'be made by trying to scare 'em off!"

"You fucking double-crossing bastard!" Chris could feel his bile rising as he realised Tanner must have been behind the killing of James Owen. "You murdered the doctor!"

"That wasn't me." A look of genuine regret briefly flitted across the older man's face. "Believe me, none of the family was supposed t'get hurt."

"Does Vin know about any of this?" It was a rhetorical question; Chris knew that if his friend was aware of his father's involvement in the death of the young Englishman he would have no hesitation in turning him in.

"I told ya before to stay outta my family's business, Larabee." He gave a crooked grin. "I might not a'killed young Owen, but I'll have no problem wit' you if ya try an' stop us. I always get what I want. My father found that out to his cost."

"What the hell does that mean?" Chris was stalling now, looking for an opening to try and jump Tanner, but the older man's words sent a shiver down his spine. "Are you saying you killed your own father?"

"If he'd given me what I wanted there and then he might still be alive. How was I to know he had a bad heart?"

The gunslinger was shocked, and his anxiety for Vin suddenly increased ten-fold. If Tanner could commit patricide, then he would have no compunction about murdering a son he hadn't seen for more than twenty years. Chris was trying to get his head around all that was happening. Everything he had suspected about this man, everything he had tried to warn Vin about, seemed to be coming true and he knew he had to stop the tracker leaving with him one way or another. Before the gunslinger could consider his next move Vin emerged from the barn leading Tanner's horse, which he fastened next to Peso.

"Ya 'bout ready to go, boy?"

"I reckon so," the tracker replied, unable to meet Chris' gaze, but the gunslinger made one last attempt to stop him.

"Don't do this. The man's no good, Vin."

Now Vin did look at his friend; the words were an echo of what he himself had once told Chris when he had tried to warn him about Ella Gaines. 'I'm gonna forget you said that'. The consequences of Chris' denial had almost cost the gunslinger his life, and that was something Vin would never forget.

"Don't listen to him, son. He's jus' messin' wit' ya head." Tanner could see that the tracker was wavering. Too much had happened between Vin and the gunslinger for him to let the friendship go lightly. It was something the older Texan had feared from the start and he could see now just how close he was to losing everything.

"Did he tell you he killed your grandpa?" Chris could see the shock on the tracker's face as he played his trump card, and the horror in his eyes as he turned to Tanner.

"What?" he gasped disbelievingly. A flicker of annoyance crossed Will's features, but he tried to give some rational explanation.

"It's not what ya think, boy. I was gonna tell ya... "

"No!" Vin felt as though his whole world was falling down around his ears. His grandfather had been the last family member he had been really close to, and now this man - his own father - had just admitted that he been the cause of his death. Vin did not want to believe Chris but every fibre of his being screamed that the gunslinger was telling him the truth.

"Have I ever lied to you, Vin?" Chris' soft statement only added to the Texan's bewilderment, and he pressed the heels of his hands to his temples with a groan.

"Vin, we're going - now!" Tanner could see the situation slipping away from him and he knew he had to take back control quickly. He thrust the younger man in the direction of his horse and as the tracker instinctively put his foot in the stirrup Chris made his move towards Tanner.

Vin watched in horrified fascination as his father brought his revolver up and pulled the trigger. There was no remorse on the older Texan's face as Chris was slammed back in the dirt and Vin launched himself from the saddle, wrestling the gun from his father's hand. He flung the weapon through the rails so it landed in the middle of the empty corral and shook the older man violently.

"Why?" he demanded savagely.

"I can't have him followin' us. He'll ruin everything!"

Vin thrust his father away in disgust, his image of a happy family life turning to bitter dust all around him and he hurried to the side of the fallen gunslinger.

"Dammit to hell, Chris! Why did ya hav'ta follow me?" There was despair in the tracker's voice as Chris clutched at his right thigh, his face drawn with pain. Blood darkened the black of his pants as he gritted his teeth.

"I couldn't let you go with him," he groaned. "It's not right."

"Damn you, Larabee," Vin hissed, tying his own bandana tightly around the badly bleeding wound. Chris slumped back against the ground as Vin stood up and faced Will Tanner. "We gotta to get 'im back to Nathan!"

"What about us? Are ya still coming with me?" Tanner tried to salvage the last remnants of his crumbling relationship with his son but he could see that it was an uphill struggle. His own reckless actions had jeopardised everything he had achieved so far and he was not sure how to rectify it.

"Mebbe, but we need to get help for Chris first." Vin would have promised anything at that point, and Tanner knew it. "Help me get him on his horse." Raising his hands in compliance the older Texan stepped forward.

"Okay, okay," he said, his manner placating. As he leaned down to haul the gunslinger up his right hand reached towards his boot top. Vin wasn't aware of the knife in Tanner's hand until he saw the glint of the blade as Will thrust Chris against the corral fence. The gunslinger gave a gasp of pain and steel gleamed in the sunlight as the weapon was held against his throat. Tanner gave a mocking smile as Vin took an involuntary step forward. Events were moving so swiftly that he was having trouble keeping up and he was acutely aware that he had just placed Chris in further danger

"What the hell're ya doing?" Vin's mouth was parched with fear as he saw the point of the knife nick the gunslinger's neck and the grimace of pain on Chris' face as a thin line of blood trickled down to his shirt collar.

"Can't ya see he's always gonna come between us? I ain't about to let that happen."

Vin licked suddenly dry lips and pulled Chris' Colt from his waistband. "Let 'im go," he demanded as he thumbed back the hammer but Tanner just stared at him and laughed.

"What are ya gonna do, boy? Shoot me? Ya ain't man enough to do it!"

"Let him go. Now!" Vin sounded confident enough but inside his stomach was knotted with trepidation and his thoughts were in turmoil. Never had he faced such an agonising choice - did he shoot his own father or watch his best friend die? Tanner saw the indecision in the young man's eyes and he pressed home his advantage.

"What? You'd choose him over ya own flesh and blood?" Vin saw the sudden doubt on Chris' face and the gun wavered and dipped as Tanner gave a smile of triumph.

There was nothing Chris could do as Tanner hauled him up and forced him back against the fence. His right leg sent waves of agony through his body and it would barely hold his weight but he froze as he felt the touch of cold steel against his throat.

"What the hell're ya doing?"

The gunslinger heard the fear in Vin's words and he hissed as the blade cut into his flesh. Warm blood trickled down his neck as Tanner tightened his hold.

"Can't ya see he's always gonna come between us? I ain't about to let that happen." Tanner's words made Chris go cold and at that point he knew that his life was forfeit.

"Let him go." Chris glanced at the tracker, seeing his own gun in Vin's hand, but Tanner's laugh sounded harsh in his ear.

"What are ya gonna do, boy? Shoot me? Ya ain't man enough to do it!" The gunslinger could hear the mockery in the Texan's voice and he couldn't even begin to imagine what Vin was going through.

"Let him go. Now!" The gunslinger heard the confidence in his friend's tone and his heart ached for the choice the young tracker was about to make.

"What? Ya'd choose him over ya own flesh and blood?"

The triumph in Tanner's words did something that very few things ever could. It scared the hell out of Chris Larabee. He saw the gun in Vin's hand suddenly dip and he felt the tensing of Tanner's muscles as the man prepared to draw the knife across his throat and Chris closed his eyes, steeling himself for the final pain. It was not death itself that scared him - it was the thought that Vin Tanner had stood by and let him die. The sense of betrayal was overwhelming.

As Tanner leaned against him the extra pressure on his wounded leg caused his senses to swim and he could feel himself slipping down as unconsciousness clawed at him. The sudden sharp pain in his neck was accompanied by the loud report of a revolver and he felt the man beside him jerk and cry out as they both tumbled to the ground.

Vin saw the murderous intent in his father's eyes as he shifted his grip on the knife and he knew that he was the only one who could prevent this tragedy. He saw the gunslinger close his eyes, almost in resignation at his own death, and Vin's senses started to scream at him. He only had one choice left; he had to stop his father killing Chris. The tracker saw the knife move, saw Chris suddenly start to slump, and his finger tightened reflexively around the trigger, the shot reverberating through his confused mind.

Vin stared in horror as both men went down, and he knew instinctively that he had fired a fatal shot. The Colt dropped from his nerveless fingers and he stumbled forward, collapsing to his knees at the side of the stricken Texan. The tracker gathered him up in his arms, trying desperately to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping wound in the side of his chest. He had aimed to incapacitate but as Chris had slumped he had inadvertently pulled Tanner down with him and Vin had no time to change his point of aim. The bullet intended for the man's upper leg had ploughed into his chest, tearing through both lungs with devastating effect. Even if Nathan had been standing right next to him there would not have been anything the healer could have done, and Vin knew his father only had a matter of minutes.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The tracker repeated the phrase over and over again, hot tears dropping unheeded onto the older man's chest and he felt as though his heart would break. He could see his one true chance of happiness slipping away as surely as his father's life before it had even had a chance to develop.

"Vin." Will Tanner forced the word out through bloody lips and the young Texan sniffed, trying to put on a brave face but failing miserably. "Ya know... we coulda had... it all." He slowly raised his hand, blood smeared fingers leaving their mark on the tracker's pale cheek. A cough shook his trembling body, scarlet streaks flecking his chin and lips as his strength finally started to give out. "I guess... it wasn't meant to... be... " Tanner's hand dropped away from Vin's face as his last breath bubbled on his lips and the tracker hugged him closer as he heard the death rattle sound in his father's throat.

Chris looked across as Vin dropped down beside his father. His mind still refused to believe that the tracker had shot the man but the evidence was there right in front of his eyes. The gunslinger felt numb; he was relieved to be alive but the cost to Vin was incalculable. The young Texan was sobbing openly as he cradled his father's body to his chest and Chris knew there was nothing he could say to make any difference.

He shifted closer, gasping as the pain from his wounds flared up with renewed vigour and he reached out to his friend but Vin ignored him, oblivious to everything as grief consumed him.

"Vin." Chris' voice cracked with emotion, but the younger man gave no indication that he had heard him. The gunslinger leaned forward, the fingers of his left hand closing about his friend's arm and he felt Vin stiffen and shudder as he turned a tear-streaked face in Chris' direction. The accusing look in the haunted blue gaze made Chris' breath catch in his throat and his next comment died unspoken on his lips as the tracker gently laid his father's body down, closed the sightless eyes and stumbled to his feet.

"Vin!" the gunslinger repeated, his tone more urgent now. There was an unnatural calmness about the young Texan that worried him, the total lack of response more frightening than any outpouring of rage or sorrow. He watched helplessly as Vin untied his black gelding and climbed slowly into the saddle. There was no expression on the tracker's face as he turned the horse around and urged it forward. It was reflexes alone that made him kick it into a canter as he reached the main gate.

Chris stared after him despairingly; he had no idea where Vin was going and he doubted whether the tracker did either. One thing he was certain of though; grief and shock appeared to have driven all coherent thought from his friend's mind and he was concerned for his safety. Chris knew he had to go after him - or at least try.

Grabbing hold of the fence the gunslinger pulled himself up but he gave a whimper of pain as his injured leg buckled under him. Cursing softly through gritted teeth, he rolled over onto his left side and crawled slowly towards his horse. Sweat trickled down his face as he moved forward inch by painful inch, using his good leg for leverage. He could feel a tickling sensation as blood soaked through the bandana tied around his wound, soaking through his pants and leaving a smeared trail in the snow, and every cautious movement burned through muscle and sinew.

Although it was not very far he had to stop after just a few feet. Shock and loss of blood was starting to take its toll on him and he felt sick and light-headed, only his fear for Vin spurring him on. Barely suppressing the cry of agony that sprang to his lips he struggled forward, peering up through vision that blurred alarmingly at the stirrup iron hanging enticingly just above his head. Stretching out his right hand, Chris groaned aloud as his grasp was just a few inches short. With a final supreme effort the gunslinger used his left leg to push himself up those remaining few inches but to no avail. Alarmed by the sudden movement at its feet, the gelding skittered away from his outstretched fingers and Chris could do nothing to prevent himself crashing to the ground. The breath was driven from his body as he sprawled headlong and the jarring impact sent pain flaring through his thigh.

His last thought as he plunged into the dark abyss of unconsciousness was that he had failed Vin, utterly and irrevocably.

+ + + + + + +

"I just don't know how to make him see sense!"

The heartfelt comment came from Buck as he sat sipping coffee in the clinic with Nathan. About four hours had passed since Chris had gone looking for Vin, despite Buck trying to persuade him otherwise.

"Ya know Chris," the healer pointed out. "He always thinks he knows what's right."

"Yeah, but this time he's wrong." Buck sighed heavily. "He's gotta give that boy his freedom. It's something Vin needs to do, and if he finds it's not what he wants... waal, he knows he's got a place here."

"Ya think Chris is pushing him too hard?"

"Hell, I know he is! Thing is, the man'll never see it 'til it's too late. The more he tries to make Vin stay, the more the boy's gonna dig his heels in!"

"They're both as stubborn as each other." Nathan shook his head, knowing from past experience just how recalcitrant they both could be, and Buck laughed.

'I've known Chris an awfully long time, and if there's one thing I've learned its never to try and out-stubborn him."

Nathan picked up his cup and then paused with it midway to his mouth, and he tilted his head to one side as though he were listening to something.

"What?"

"I dunno. I thought - " The healer never finished the sentence as his name was yelled from outside. He was on his feet immediately, Buck right behind him and the urgency in the shout was evident to both men. Nathan flung open the door and leaned over the balcony, his eyes widening in surprise. Down below Tiny, the town's blacksmith, was holding onto the bridle of Vin Tanner's gelding, the tracker himself slumped in the saddle, and the healer's first horrified thought was that the Texan was injured in some way. He clattered down the stairs, the ladies man at his heels, and now he could see the dark rust-brown stain that liberally covered the front of Vin's shirt beneath the open jacket.

"My God, Vin! What happened?" Nathan rested a hand on the tracker's knee as he asked the question and fear clutched at him as he realised that Vin was just staring, unaware of the people around him. Bloody streaks smeared one pale cheek and stained his hands and his eyes were almost vacant as he gripped the reins tightly but he did not respond to Nathan's voice.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" There was concern in Buck's tone as Nathan drew a sharp breath. The healer had seen enough cases of shock in the War Between The States to recognise it for what it was but he could not imagine what had caused the young tracker to be in this condition.

"I dunno. Vin, where's Chris?" Nathan felt the younger man quiver under his hand and the Texan slowly turned his head, not quite looking at the healer.

"... killed him."

It was barely a whisper, the toneless comment falling from the tracker's lips, but it hit the two stunned peacekeepers with all the force of an avalanche.

"What?" There was shock and disbelief in that soft drawn-out word from Buck and his heart was pounding with fear as he stared up at Vin, unable to comprehend what he had just heard.

"What d'ya mean?" Nathan sounded shaken as his finger's tightened around the Texan's knee.

"I killed him," Vin repeated, a little more strength in the dull tone and he closed his eyes as his head drooped.

"You bastard!" Buck's voice was a snarl of rage and Nathan was just too late to stop him as he reached up and grabbed the front of the tracker's coat, physically hauling him from the saddle. The black gelding snorted and skittered nervously at the sudden assault and Tiny dragged the animal away before it kicked out in fear. As Vin's feet touched the ground he collapsed bonelessly, taking Buck down with him, and the ladies man stared in horror as the Texan flung up his hands to protect his face, cowering away at the expected blow. To his credit Buck released his hold at once and scrambled to his feet, realising that there was something seriously wrong. He was horrified that Vin had reacted that way to him and his anger died as quickly as it had ignited. Nathan brushed by him, crouching down beside the terrified tracker and catching his wrists in a firm grip.

"It's alright, Vin, no-one's gonna hurt ya." Nathan sensed Buck flinch at those words but he kept his gaze firmly fixed on the Texan. He could feel the younger man trembling violently and he knew that it was more than just a state of shock. Vin was on the point of nervous collapse.

"Nathan, I didn't mean to... " Buck's voice trailed off brokenly but the healer could understand why he had acted the way he did.

"I know," he said. "Just go find Josiah."

"But... what about... Chris?" The ladies man could not hide the pain and despair he felt despite his worry over Vin.

"We'll go out to the ranch," Nathan assured him. "We'll find... him. But I can't leave Vin on his own like this."

"Alright." Buck gave the huddled tracker another quick look before hurrying off in search of Josiah.

"I'll get yer horses ready for ya." The suggestion came from Tiny who had watched the unfolding drama in uncomfortable silence. Nathan looked up and nodded gratefully.

"I'd be obliged." As the man lead the the black gelding away the healer turned his attention once more to Vin. "Come on," he coaxed gently. "Let's get ya cleaned up." Keeping one hand around Vin's left wrist Nathan slipped his other behind the tracker's shoulder and pulled him carefully to his feet. Vin swayed but remained upright, his legs a little unsteady as the healer steered him towards the stairs.

They took the climb slowly, one step at a time, with Nathan supporting him all the way. By the time they reached the top landing Vin was shaking with exhaustion and the healer barely managed to get him inside and sitting on the edge of a bed before he collapsed. Snatching up a blanket Nathan draped it around his shoulders, tucking the ends in tightly to keep him warm. He was certain now that Vin had suffered no physical injury himself but he did not like to think whose blood was soaked into the Texan's clothes.

Crossing over to a cupboard Nathan took out a bottle of whiskey, pouring a measure into a glass and diluting it with water. Pulling up a chair, he sat in front of the tracker and forced the glass into his hand, closing his own fingers around it as he guided it towards his friend's lips.

"Come on, Vin. Ya gotta drink this." The Texan turned his head away, the first responsive move he had made since Buck had pulled him from his horse, but Nathan reached out and grasped his chin, turning his face back towards him. "Drink!" It was almost an order and Vin swallowed instinctively, spluttering a little as the liquor burned the back of his throat.

Nathan was still sitting in front of the Texan, both hands rubbing gently at his shoulders trying to ease the stiffness from his muscles when Buck returned with Josiah. There was sympathy and pity on the ex-preacher's face as he regarded the traumatised young man hunched on the bed. When Buck had found him in the church and told him about the tracker's dramatic return he had been shocked and appalled. He could hardly believe what the ladies man was telling him; it was seemed inconceivable that Vin could have killed his best friend. But Buck was badly shaken and now seeing the Texan for himself Josiah realised that against all probability it must be true. The faint flicker of hope that the ladies man was mistaken guttered and died and he felt a profound sense of sadness.

"So it's true then?" Josiah said softly and Nathan nodded grimly.

"Looks that way. I can't see why else he'd be like this."

"You and Buck need to go and find Chris. There might still be a chance he's alive." Despite his foreboding the ex-preacher forced himself to be practical. "What can I do here?"

Nathan hesitated. He was reluctant to leave Vin even under Josiah's care but they had to be certain about the gunslinger one way or another.

"See if ya can clean him up a bit, and then jus' keep him warm and quiet. But whatever ya do - don't let him outta ya sight!"

"I'll do my best, my friend." Josiah made the promise as the healer climbed to his feet.

"Y'about ready, Buck?" he asked, and the ladies man nodded solemnly. As they exited the clinic Josiah looked at Vin and shook his head sadly.

'How could God have allowed this to happen?' he thought to himself but he heard no answer. With a sigh he poured some warm water into a basin and picked up a cloth. All he could do for now was to clean the visible signs of tragedy from the Texan's skin. His tormented soul would require much more than soap and water.

+ + + + + + +

As Nathan and Buck urged their weary horses along the rough track leading up to the Richardson's deserted ranch, the healer was painfully reminded of another such urgent ride he had made just a few months ago. Then he had been going to the aid of a seriously ill Vin Tanner and the taciturn gunslinger had been at his side. Now the situation was almost reversed; the young tracker was back at the clinic locked in a state of virtual catatonic shock whilst he and Buck went to find Chris Larabee, who was more than likely dead.

Buck had been silent for nearly the entire journey but as the two peacekeepers rode under the archway and into the main yard they spotted the crumpled figure of the black-dressed gunslinger almost at the same time and an anguished moan spilled from his lips.

"Oh God - no!"

Pulling back on the reins the ladies man was out of the saddle before the grey had stopped, running towards the prone form by the feet of the patiently standing black gelding. Nathan brought his own mount to a stop and closed his eyes briefly against the sudden feeling of loss. The snow that covered the ground and clung to the clothing of Chris Larabee was a painful reminder of how they had found James Owen's body. All the way he had been trying to convince himself that Vin was wrong, even though he knew that the tracker would not have left his friend or returned alone if the gunslinger had merely been injured. Now if the evidence before them was to be believed Vin Tanner had indeed killed his best friend. Swinging down from the saddle the healer followed Buck, his heart heavy as he watched the ladies man kneel down beside Chris' still form.

"Aw dammit, Chris," Buck breathed softly as he gently turned the gunslinger over and cradled him in his arms, his head bowed in silent grief. Nathan stood looking down for a moment, his practiced eye seeing the dried blood caking the gunslinger's throat and neck and the crude bandage wrapped around his thigh, and he frowned in consternation.

"What the hell happened here?" he muttered almost to himself as he crouched down and reached out to touch the gunslinger's pallid cheek. As he had expected the skin was icy cold beneath his hand but he still had to make the final check just to satisfy himself. Placing his sensitive fingers against Chris' throat he was not surprised to find no flicker of life. Then he glanced up quickly at Buck as he moved his hand a fraction.

"He's alive!" he breathed in disbelief as he detected the slow, faint beat beneath his trembling fingers.

"What?" Buck stared at the gunslinger's face incredulously. Chris was so white and cold that he could hardly believe what Nathan had just said.

"He's still alive, Buck!" The healer squeezed his friend's shoulder reassuringly, a relieved smile on his face as Buck looked at him in amazement. He watched as Nathan reached down and ran his fingers along the back of Chris' thigh, seeing his frown of concern. "Look's like the bullet's still in his leg and he's lost a lot of blood." He indicated the scuffed and stained snow by Chris' feet. "Reckon he musta bin crawling to his horse before he passed out." Pushing himself up he started to go back to his horse to get a blanket and his medical bag: although the cold had pushed Chris to the point of hypothermia it had also slowed down the flow of blood, otherwise he might have bled to death before they reached him.

"Did Vin do this to him?" Buck asked suddenly. Nathan could hear the anger in his voice but he shook his head, no hesitation in his reply.

"I can't believe that, Buck." He could not imagine anything that would make the tracker deliberately harm Chris, yet something had convinced him that he had killed the gunslinger. As he collected the items he needed and turned to go back a splash of colour at the far end of the corral caught his eye.

"Buck." The ladies man glanced up at the sound of his name, following Nathan's pointing finger. "Over yonder. Ya'd best check it out."

Buck carefully laid Chris down, content to leave him in Nathan's care and strode across to the second body lying beside the fence.

"It's Tanner." The ladies man did not need to take more than a cursory look to see that the man had been dead for hours.

"Tanner?" Nathan exclaimed in surprise. Somehow in their concern over Vin and Chris no-one had given the older Texan a thought. "Dead?"

"Very."

Buck shook his head in confusion. He could not even start to speculate on what had transpired at the ranch. Only two people knew the answer to that question but Chris was unconscious and Vin was not talking. Just beyond Tanner's outstretched hand lay Chris' hat and as Buck stooped to retrieve it he spotted a knife lying under the bottom rail. Picking it up he turned it over, seeing the tell-tale signs of dried blood on the blade but he did not recognise it as belonging to either Chris or Vin. His curiosity roused now, Buck prowled around a little more until he found the gunslinger's Colt where it had been dropped but it only added to the mystery. It was like trying to put a child's jigsaw puzzle together and discovering that all the edge pieces were missing.

With a sigh the ladies man dropped both weapons inside Chris' hat for safekeeping and gave up his search. It was just too dammed perplexing and his mind was not on it anyhow. As he came back and crouched down beside the gunslinger Nathan was just removing another bandana from around Chris' right forearm.

"How'd that happen?"

"Wish I knew." Nathan sounded mystified. "And then there's this." He turned Chris' head to one side, showing Buck where he had cleaned the blood from his neck, and the ladies man could see the long thin cut that ran under the gunslinger's chin and down his throat and he glanced at the knife that lay in Chris' hat next to his gun.

"I reckon Chris killed Tanner, so what the hell was Vin going on about?" Looking at Chris' injuries, Buck wondered how he could possibly have thought that the tracker had done it. It was simply impossible.

"This don't look too bad," Nathan said as he as he bound a clean dressing around Chris' arm. "It won't even need no stitches."

"What about his leg?"

"There's not much I can do at the moment. I need to get the bullet out first."

"What about taking him inside?" Buck glanced across at the boarded up house, and then lightly touched Chris' cheek. "At least it'll be warmer." Despite the blanket that Nathan had wrapped around him the gunslinger was still deathly cold.

"It's a good idea, but I'd sooner get him back. 'Sides, I'm still worried about Vin." As he unrolled another bandage Nathan considered removing the soiled bandana from around the gunslinger's thigh but then changed his mind. He could not risk starting the bleeding again and he decided it would be best just to wrap another bandage tightly over the top until he got back to the clinic. As the healer straightened the injured leg and started to bind the wound, Buck heard a soft groan.

"Chris?" He saw the gunslinger's eyelids twitch and his friend drew a deep shuddering breath as pain dragged him back to the brink of consciousness. "Nathan, I think he's coming round."

"S'okay. I'm almost done." The healer tied off the end of the bandage as Chris gave another groan and feebly moved his head. He dropped a hand on the gunslinger's blanket-covered shoulder as the hazel eyes slowly flickered open. "Easy Chris."

"Uh? Wha... ? Nathan?" Chris' words were slurred and he sounded dazed as he focused his confused gaze on Nathan, and the healer grinned.

"Yeah, I'm here. So's Buck."

"Hey, pard." As Chris turned to look at him the smile of relief on the face of the ladies man conveyed more than words ever could. "Y'had us worried there for a moment. When Vin - " He stopped, seeing the sudden fear in Chris' eyes at the mention of the tracker's name.

"Vin... gotta find him!" The gunslinger started to struggle up in panic but Nathan gripped his shoulder and forced him back down.

"It's okay, Chris. He's back in town."

Chris closed his eyes momentarily and swallowed hard, his teeth chattering with the cold as he forced the next question out.

"... he alright?" The other two peacekeepers exchanged puzzled looks, wondering what had prompted his surprising question.

"Don't you worry none about Vin," Buck told him. "You just let Nathan fix you up."

"D'ya think ya can sit a horse?" Nathan asked the question knowing that there was no other way of getting the gunslinger back to Four Corners, and Chris nodded.

"Jus' get me home."

As Nathan packed the remnants of his supplies back into his saddlebag Buck shot a quick glance in the direction of Will Tanner's body and asked the question that was uppermost in his mind.

"Who did this to you, Chris? Was it Tanner?"

Chris didn't answer immediately but as he shifted slightly pain seared through his leg and he drew a sharp breath, fighting down the agony as he forced himself to answer.

"Yeah," he hissed. "... couldn't let Vin... go with him."

Nathan gave Buck a warning glance as Chris' shallow breathing grew more rapid, but the ladies man was persistent..

"Did you kill Tanner?"

If it was at all possible Chris' face turned a shade paler as he recalled the moment when Tanner's knife was at his throat and he remembered the shot and the accusing look in Vin's eyes.

"Chris?" Buck was worried by his friend's silence and the haunted expression in his eyes.

"No. It was Vin." The whispered words sent a jolt of shock through Buck and Nathan, and now the healer could understand why Vin was so distraught. 'I killed him'. The words made perfect sense now but he wondered what had driven the tracker to commit such a terrible act.

"Vin? Why?" There was total disbelief in Buck's voice as he made the demand of the gunslinger but Nathan held up a hand in warning.

"Leave it, Buck." He could see that Chris was struggling, the pain and the shock driving him to the point of unconsciousness once more. "Why don't ya get Tanner's body on his horse? I'll stay with Chris." It might have sounded like a suggestion but it wasn't; the ladies man could see the determination on Nathan's face and he knew when to admit defeat.

As Buck set about his grim task Nathan remained beside Chris, talking to him softly and chafing his cold hands in an effort to keep him conscious. Even though they were beginning to piece together some of the puzzle there were still a lot of questions unanswered but they would have to wait for the moment. Getting Chris back to town was their first priority now.

Part Eight

"... and I wonder if Mary knows."

Mary Travis just caught the last part of Gloria Potter's comment as she entered the woman's store.

"Know what, ladies?" Mary smiled brightly, wondering what the latest gossip was. Mrs Potter and the other woman looked up at the sound of her voice, and then they exchanged dismayed glances as the subject of their conversation walked up to the counter. "What's wrong?" Mary had seen their expressions change, and she had a sudden unnerving feeling of dread.

"You haven't heard." It was almost a statement from Gloria Potter and Mary frowned and shook her head in exasperation.

"Heard what?"

The store owner hesitated for a brief moment and then drew a deep breath. "They say Vin Tanner turned up at the clinic a little while ago covered in blood. Word has it he's killed Chris Larabee."

Mary stared in horror at the two women, her shopping list fluttering from her fingers as she tried to deny what she had just heard. Then she turned and fled, running along the boardwalk towards the clinic. Her heart was pounding as she tore up the steps, hoping desperately that it was all some terrible mistake.

Vin Tanner had remained silent ever since Nathan had left, not even responding when Josiah stripped off his jacket and bloodstained shirt. The big man had also managed to wash the blood from his face and hands and remove his boots but apart from getting him to take a little water the tracker had remained locked in his own private hell. For the past half hour he had sat on the bed, arms clasped about his raised knees and his head bowed, gently rocking back and forth. Josiah had just draped a second blanket around the shivering man when the door was violently flung open.

"Nathan! I... oh!" Mary gasped in astonishment as Josiah turned to face her.

"Mary? What are you doing here?" Even as he said it the ex-preacher realised that the word had obviously spread around town with the speed of a prairie fire, and he cursed the Four Corners rumour mill.

"I heard - " Mary paused as she looked beyond Josiah to the figure hunched on the bed. "Oh God! Vin." She stumbled forward a few steps staring at the distraught tracker, but then her gaze was drawn to his discarded clothes flung over a chair and her eyes widened with fear. "No!" she whispered. "Tell me it isn't true, Josiah."

The ex-preacher came up behind her and put his hands gently on her shoulders. "We don't know anything for certain yet," he told her. "Nathan and Buck have gone to find Chris."

"They said Vin - " Mary stopped, unable to put her fear into words. She looked round at the tracker once more and shook her head. "I can't believe he'd harm him."

"Neither can I. We'll just have to wait 'til the others get back."

Mary pulled herself out of the big man's grasp and crouched down beside the bed. Despite her anxiety over Chris she was also concerned for Vin. Only the previous evening he had had supper with her and Billy and spoken of his plans for the future. Once again he had admitted to her that he was angry about Chris' reaction to his leaving. Could it be that they had had some terrible argument that had brought about this current turn of events?

"Vin?" she called softly. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she reached out and placed her hand over his. They were not only tears for Chris but for the young Texan who seemed to have withdrawn into himself, clear evidence of some monumental shock.

"You won't get anything out of him, Mary," Josiah told her sadly. "Lord knows I've tried."

"Vin? Please - look at me." Mary tried once more but it was hopeless. The tracker remained silent and unresponsive as he continued to rock back and forth and Mary wept for the apparent senseless loss of two people she cared a great deal about.

+ + + + + + +

.

Josiah closed the book of Psalms with a heavy sigh. It had been open on his lap for some time now but he realised that he had not turned a page for at least the last hour. Dusk was settling outside as he rose and lit several lamps, but he kept the wicks turned low, allowing sufficient light to see but not so much that it disturbed his silent companion.

"Well my friend, I don't think I'm going to find any answers in these pages." The ex-preacher's tone was conversational but as he had expected Vin Tanner did not acknowledge anything he said. "I wish I knew how to help you, son," Josiah continued softly. He had admitted as much to Ezra and JD when they had arrived shortly after Mary. Both men had been deeply shocked by the apparent death of the gunslinger, too upset to even lay any blame at Vin's feet, and it was Ezra who had had to drag a tearful Mary and JD away from the clinic.

The sound of hoofbeats down below suddenly caught his attention and he looked towards the door, hesitating for a moment before pulling it open and stepping out onto the balcony. Even in the fading light he recognised the man on the grey gelding as he rode slowly down the main street, but it was the blanket-wrapped body lying across the saddle of the dark horse following behind that made his heart contract painfully.

"May God grant you peace," he murmured sadly as he crossed himself, wondering how the death of the gunslinger would affect the remaining peacekeepers. He was particularly worried about Vin even though he still found it difficult to believe that the Texan was responsible in any way.

"Josiah? That you?" Nathan's voice floated up from directly beneath the top landing. "Can ya gimme a hand wit' Chris?"

Chris? Josiah almost did a double take, peering down the street to where Buck had stopped outside the undertaker's parlour. Then he visibly shook himself and hurried down the stairs. Nathan was standing beside Chris' mount, carefully supporting the gunslinger as he slumped forward in the saddle.

"Can ya help me get 'im upstairs?"

"But I thought... ?" Josiah stared in amazement at the semi-conscious gunslinger.

"Yeah - so did we."

The ride back to Four Corners had been a nightmare two-hour journey for Chis Larabee with pain as his constant companion. It was only gritty determination that had kept him on his mount and he was barely aware when Nathan had called a halt so that he could scramble up behind him. As he had started to warm up the gunslinger's wound had begun to bleed more freely but the healer's firm grip had held him in the saddle for the remainder of the ride and Chris was relieved that they had now finally reached their destination. He felt two pairs of strong hands pull him gently from the saddle and carry him the short distance to the steps up to the clinic.

His eyes were still tightly closed and his jaw clenched shut in agony as Nathan and Josiah began their slow climb upstairs. By the time they reached the top he was very close to screaming, but he managed to suppress the cry which was burning in his throat and he gave a long sigh as he felt himself being lowered onto a bed.

The two peacekeepers straightened up after they had laid the gunslinger down and Nathan immediately looked across at Vin. He had been hoping for some improvement by the time they returned, at least some indication that the tracker was aware, but he could see that it had not materialised.

"How's he doing?"

Josiah shook his head sadly. "He's not said a word since you left. I've managed to clean him up a bit and he's taken some water, but that's all. I wish I could do more." Nathan squeezed his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I know ya've done yer best, my friend." He glanced back once more at the injured gunslinger, seeing the way Chris was clutching at the bedsheets and knew he could not afford to waste any more time. "Josiah, can you get his boots and coat off him? I need to get a few things ready."

The ex-preacher knew better than to ask questions at a time like this. Explanations about what had happened out at the ranch would have to wait for a while. Crossing to the bed, he carefully raised Chris up and eased the black duster from his lean form and the gunslinger hissed with pain as Josiah moved further down to remove his boots.

"Sorry my friend, but this has to be done." Hazel eyes flickered open as the older man sat down on the edge of the bed and lightly touched his arm.

"Jos...iah?"

"It's alright, Chris. You're in the clinic now." he answered, a brief smile on his face.

The gunslinger shifted uncomfortably on the bed as a sudden thought flashed into his mind and a low groan spilled from his lips as pain shot up his leg.

"Vin... where's Vin?" he gasped. Josiah's smile faded as he glanced towards the other bed.

"He's right here."

Chris turned his head as he followed the direction of the ex-preacher's gaze, and his eyes widened in shock when he looked across the room. Vin Tanner had not moved from his hunched position at the top of the bed; his forehead now resting on his raised knees, but he still rocked gently back and forth, lost and terrified.

"Vin!"

The gunslinger did not recognise his own voice, so hoarse and strained was it as he stared at his friend in horror. Chris was not sure whether it was his name being called or the sound of his voice that dragged a slight reaction from the young Texan, but Vin's restless movements stopped and his head came up.

"Vin!" Chris called again and now the tracker turned his head towards the gunslinger, but there was no expression on his face. The vacant soulless look in the blue eyes chilled Chris to the bone and he struggled to sit up, yelping in pain as he jarred his leg.

"Lay still, Chris." Josiah placed his large hands on the younger man's shoulders and held him down effortlessly.

"No... gotta help Vin." The gunslinger's face was twisted with pain as Nathan turned, a syringe in one hand and a small piece of cloth in the other.

"We will," the healer assured him. "Just as soon as I've seen to yer leg. Josiah, can ya roll his left sleeve up?"

Chris had no option but to lie quietly as the ex-preacher obeyed and Nathan sat on the edge of the bed and wiped the inside of the exposed forearm with the alcohol soaked cloth.

"I'm gonna give you some morphine, Chris. It'll help with the pain when I dig that bullet out." He did not bother saying to Chris that it was not going to hurt because the gunslinger knew from past experience that it would.

"Just do it," he hissed, closing his eyes with a shuddering grimace as the needle went in. He could hear Nathan moving around as he readied everything he needed and then he flinched as he felt the touch of cold metal on his leg as the healer started to cut through the black pants with a pair of scissors. "Not my pants," he groaned aloud, glancing down as Nathan continued cutting up the outside seam.

"Sorry Chris. I'll buy ya a new pair," Nathan told him with a slight grin as he snipped through the bloodstained bandage and bandana. Laying aside the scissors Nathan started to soak the stiffened material away from the wound, relieved when Chris did not try to pull his leg away at this painful procedure. It was obvious that the morphine was starting to have the desired effect, but probing for the bullet would be a lot different. He would need Josiah's help then to keep the injured limb still.

Chris was beginning to become a little detached from what was happening; he could feel Nathan's hands on his leg but at the moment there was hardly any pain which was a welcome relief after so many hours. As he started to relax he turned his face once more towards Vin and he was surprised to see that the tracker was still looking in his direction even though his eyes seemed to look directly through the gunslinger. Chris would rather have had the accusing glare than the nothingness he now saw in his friend's eyes and his sense of guilt resurfaced. If he had not followed Vin in the first place neither of them would be in this position now.

"Chris?" Nathan's voice jolted him out of his troubled thoughts and he blinked up at the healer as he dried his hands on a towel. "Ya ready? Ya know I gotta do this."

Chris nodded, turning his head away again as Josiah's hands closed about his ankle and knee. He fixed his gaze on Vin; nothing Nathan did to him could compare to the hell that his friend was going through at this very moment and he did not know if he would ever be able to make it right.

It had taken Nathan a little longer than he had anticipated to locate the bullet and by the time he had probed deep enough to find it Chris had already passed out. In a way it was a blessing; it made it easier for him to check for any bone splinters and to thoroughly clean the wound with carbolic before neatly stitching it. As the healer bound a clean bandage around the gunslinger's thigh, Josiah glanced up and a faint smile crossed his lips.

"Nathan," he said, gesturing with a nod. The healer glanced over his left shoulder and he gave a sigh of relief.

"Finally," he breathed as he regarded the young Texan. Vin's cheek was still pressed against his raised knees but now his eyes were tightly closed and it was obvious that he was sleeping soundly. "Can ya lay him down and cover him up? Reckon sleep's gonna be the best thing for 'im."

Josiah moved across to the other bed and gently straightened the tracker's knees, carefully easing him down flat. Vin gave a weak moan of protest but he quickly settled back into sleep as Josiah tucked the blanket around him.

Nathan gave a tired sigh as he pulled a blanket over Chris and began to clear away the soiled dressings and his instruments. As he washed his hands Josiah put a pot of fresh coffee on to boil, watching as the healer first checked Chris' pulse to make certain he was sleeping normally and then did the same with Vin. As he released the tracker's wrist he placed his hand briefly on his forehead, just to make sure that there was nothing else wrong.

"I think he'll be alright in the morning," Nathan said, dropping wearily into his rocking chair. "He's jus' plumb wore out!" The healer rubbed at his eyes, stretching his legs out before him.

"So d'you know what happened out there?" Josiah asked, handing his dark friend a steaming cup. "Why did Vin think he'd killed Chris?"

"Not Chris. He killed his father."

Josiah gasped in astonishment; he had not been expecting that and he glanced across at the sleeping tracker, finally understanding why he was so traumatised. "There must've been a good reason for him to do that," he stated realising now whose body Buck had taken to the undertakers..

"I hope so, Josiah, otherwise that boy'll be facing a murder charge, whether we like it or not. Looking at Chris, I reckon he did it to save his life."

"If that's the case then it was one hell of a choice he had to make."

Nathan had not really thought about it until Josiah had put it into words and it only increased his concern for the tracker. He knew how deeply Vin had bonded with his father over the last few months. The young Texan did not believe in half measures; with him it was all or nothing and having accepted Will Tanner into his life Vin had embraced the family concept whole-heartedly.

"It's not a choice I'd've liked to've made," Nathan said with a shudder. "I just hope he's got the strength to cope with it, otherwise it's gonna destroy him and Chris."

Glancing at the two sleeping men, Josiah could only nod in agreement.

The clinic was silent as the winter sun started to push its way above the horizon. Nathan was fast asleep in his chair, not even snoring as fatigue finally caught up with him. He had sat with Chris and Vin throughout the night but neither of them had stirred. The gunslinger had slipped from drug-induced to natural slumber in the early hours, and Vin had simply slept the sleep of the exhausted.

Grey dawn stretched out long fingers but only one person was vaguely aware of the arrival of a new day. Blue eyes suddenly snapped open and Vin sat up, pushing aside the blanket. Swinging his legs off the bed he stood up, the stiffness of his posture indicative of a sleepwalker. However, the tracker knew exactly where he was going. Wraith-like the Texan padded forward on bare feet, pausing at the side of Chris' bed and staring impassively down at the peacefully sleeping gunslinger. He remained there for ten long seconds before creeping softly past the healer and out through the door onto the upper landing. Inside the gunslinger stirred slightly, almost feeling the shadow that passed over him, but it was gone so quick that he barely had time to draw breath.

There was nobody about as the tracker made his way down the stairs and turned towards his final destination. Clad only in his pants and undershirt he was oblivious to the cold as his breath frosted in front of him. Stopping outside the door, his fingers closed about the handle, and he frowned slightly as he realised it was locked. Glancing down, he picked up a large stone and used it to break the glass. Reaching forward with his left hand to unfasten the bolt from the inside Vin was unaware of the jagged shards of glass that grazed his forearm as he made his way inside, carefully closing the door behind him. Another door yielded before him as he found what he was searching for, and he drew up a chair and settled down to wait.

It was just after eight o'clock in the morning when Samuel Wilkinson came down the stairs from his living quarters to his place of business. He shrugged on his jacket and pulled out his pocket watch, tutting to himself as he realised that he was later than usual and he had intended to make an early start. Still, no matter - his clients would have to wait a little while longer and he was positive he would hear no complaints. Whistling cheerfully he entered the main office, throwing a cursory glance around his premises and then made his way to the back parlour, frowning when he realised that the door was slightly ajar. He was sure he had closed it the previous night, but he could have been mistaken.

Pushing the door open, he paused as his eyes adjusted to the gloom and then the whistle died on his lips and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck as he realised he was not alone.

Ezra yawned hugely as he stepped off the boardwalk and crossed the street, heading back towards the saloon and the comfort of his feather bed. He had accepted the invitation to the poker game at the hotel in the hope that it would take his mind off the plight of his two friend's, but all he had succeeded in doing was losing a lot of money and acquiring a dreadful hangover. He was totally unprepared for the noisy appearance of Samuel Wilkinson.

"Mr Standish!" he yelled. "You've got to do something about your friend."

Ezra winced as the man's voice sent shivers of pain through his throbbing temples, and he held up his hands in submission.

"My dear sir, you are shouting loud enough to wake the dead." Ezra could not help smiling at his own joke. "What are you talking about? What friend?"

"It's Mr Tanner. He's just sitting there. Make him leave." Wilkinson sounded desperate as he grabbed hold of the gambler's sleeve and dragged him towards the nearby building. The Southerner was too surprised to argue; as far as he knew Vin was still tucked up safely at Nathan's clinic and he allowed the undertaker to steer him towards the funeral parlour. "Look! He broke my window to get in! Lord knows how long he's been sitting there."

Ezra was starting to get worried now; he had spoken to Buck the previous night and had learned as much about what had transpired as was possible under the circumstances. He had been very relieved to hear that Chris was still alive and had been assured by the ladies man that although he was wounded his life was in no danger. However, he had been shocked by the disclosure that Vin had killed his own father, for whatever reason. The tracker had spoken to him on numerous occassions expressing his delight that his father had come back into his life and the gambler could not imagine what had driven him to commit patricide.

Glass crunched under their feet as they stepped inside, and Wilkinson pointed at the open door directly in front of them.

"He's in there. He scared the life out of me when I came down."

"I think it would be best if you went and got Mr Jackson." Ezra placed a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "I'll deal with Mr Tanner."

Wilkinson agreed without hesitation; he had no wish to re-enter the back room. Although he had seen his fair share of grieving relatives the young man's stolid and disquieting silence was unnatural.

Ezra stepped through the doorway and stopped just inside and he felt an overwhelming surge of sympathy as he regarded his friend. An open coffin was laid out on trestles directly in front of him and Vin sat at the head and to the left, his eyes fixed on the body inside.

"Vin?" There was no response to the gambler's word. The Southerner swallowed hard as he approached Vin, catching a glimpse of Will Tanner's body from the corner of his eye. The young tracker sat as still as death in the chair but when Ezra touched him lightly on the shoulder he jumped. He could feel Vin trembling with the cold and he slipped off his jacket and draped it around the Texan's shoulders. "You can't stay here, my friend." The gambler's voice broke as he said it, conscious of the depth of grief the other was feeling. "Let's step out into the other room."

"No!"

The tracker's voice was croaky as the anguished word came out and Ezra blinked in surprise, aware that Vin had not spoken since he had arrived at the clinic. He crouched down, one hand on the Texan's wrist, and it was then that he noticed the blood streaking his other forearm. Remembering the broken window Ezra glanced down, wincing in sympathy as he realised that the tracker's bare feet were torn and bleeding.

"Come on, Vin," he coaxed, gently tugging at his arm.

"I killed him, Ezra." The tracker resisted the insistent pull. "All these years o'lookin' for me and I killed him." He turned and looked at the gambler. "What kind o'person am I t'do such a thing?" The Southerner saw the torment in the Texan's eyes and he did not know how to answer at first. He gave a heavy sigh, green eyes holding blue in a steady gaze.

"As I understand it you had little choice, my friend."

"There's always a choice." Vin sounded close to tears as he glanced back at his father's coffin. "Mebbe I made the wrong one."

Ezra shook his head and stood up. "You've got to let go, Vin. It's doing you no good sitting here." There was a long silence and the gambler began to doubt whether his words had actually registered. Then the tracker took a shuddering breath and nodded. As he stood up he swayed slightly and Ezra put his hands on his shoulders to steady him, leading the limping Texan out into the office, conscious of the bloodstains on the floor. He gave a sigh of relief as he eased Vin down into another chair, content to wait for Nathan's arrival.

Nathan stirred in his chair, shivering as the cold attacked his bones and he realised he needed to stoke up the stove to warm the room up. Clasping his hands together above his head he stretched languidly, glancing across at the sleeping gunslinger. Chris appeared comfortable enough, and he turned his attention to Vin - but Vin was gone. His heart gave a painful lurch as he looked at the rumpled bedding and the tracker's clothes and boots still on the chair.

"Goddammit, Vin!" He did not know whether he was cursing the Texan or himself; he should have known that the minute he let his guard down the younger man would have disappeared. Throwing off his own blanket he scrambled to his feet, trying to think where Vin might have gone. He hoped to God that he had not left town and his first instinct was to check the Livery. However, as he crossed the room Chris stirred and groaned and Nathan found himself caught between the two men. Stepping up to the bed, he frowned as he noticed the faint flush on the gunslinger's features and when he dropped his hand to his brow he could feel the heat of fever coursing through his body.

"Aw hell," he muttered. He did not really want to leave Chris like this but he knew that he had to find Vin. Picking up a cloth, he rinsed it in a basin of cold water and laid it across Chris' forehead before hurrying out of the door.

As he entered the Livery, he could see that both Chris and Vin's black geldings were in their stalls and he felt a brief swell of relief as he realised that the tracker had not left town. As he came back out into the daylight he paused, one hand on his head as he contemplated where to look next.

"I have brought you some breakfast, Senor Jackson." Nathan whirled at the sound of a woman's voice, and he saw Inez standing there with a covered tray in her hand. The Mexican frowned as she saw the troubled expression on his face. "Is something wrong?"

"Vin - have ya seen him?" he asked.

"Vin?" she repeated. "But I thought he was with you?"

"I wish he was." The healer gave an exasperated sigh. "I gotta find him. Can ya stay with Chris for me?"

"Of course." Inez could see how worried Nathan was and she gave her answer without hesitaion.

"Thank you, but if he wakes up don't let him out of bed!"

The girl smiled. That was an easy promise to keep. "I will tie him down if neccessary, senor." Despite his concern over Vin the healer could not help flashing her a quick smile. He knew that she was more than capable of carrying out that threat if the need arose.

As Nathan made his way along the main street towards Vin's wagon - the next obvious place to look - he was hailed from the opposite boardwalk by Samuel Wilkinson.

"Mr Jackson, you have to come quickly! Mr Standish sent me to find you."

"I'm sorry, Mr Wilkinson. It'll have to wait for a while."

"No. I insist you come now!" The urgency in the undertaker's tone sent a flutter of alarm through Nathan and he turned to follow the agitated man.

When Nathan first entered the office he saw Ezra sitting on the corner of Wilkinson's desk but then his gaze was drawn past him to the tracker who was sitting quietly in the chair set back a little way from the desk.

"Thank the Lord!" the healer breathed and then turned to Ezra. "Where'd ya find him?"

"He was sitting beside his father's coffin. Mr Wilkinson wasn't sure how long he had been there." There was a slight undercurrent of accusation in the gambler's words, but Nathan ignored it. "He seems to have cut his feet rather badly on the glass. You had better take a look."

The healer could see the spots of blood on the floor and he knealt down, lifting the tracker's feet into his lap. As he examined the bloody soles he could see that the left foot was worse than the right. Running his fingers gently along the lacerated skin he could feel the sharp splinters, and Vin gave a hiss of pain. Looking over his shoulder at the undertaker hovering anxiously in the background Nathan made his request.

"I'd be obliged if ya could get me some hot water and summat to bind his feet." As the man hurried to obey the healer looked up into Vin's face. "What the hell were ya thinkin' of?" he demanded softly, and he was surprised when Vin answered him.

"I jus'had t'be here. Reckon I owed him that."

Nathan shook his head sadly, accepting the tracker's explanation. Taking the bowl of water that Wilkinson brought him, he carefully lowered the tracker's feet into it, holding onto his ankles as Vin gasped and tried to pull away. His sensitive fingers found and removed the larger pieces of glass, but there were a few tiny splinters that eluded him and they would have to be dealt with back at the clinic. Using some of the long strips of material that Samuel Wilkinson had provided he wound them loosely about Vin's feet.

"Let me give you a hand getting him back," Ezra offered, but Vin pulled a face.

"I can walk," he stated emphatically and the gambler grinned.

"I have no doubt about that, my friend, but a little help would not come amiss."

Nathan was grateful for the gambler's intervention, knowing that despite his faults the Southerner had a genuine interest in Vin's well-being. As the two peacekeepers helped him to his feet, Vin turned and looked directly at the undertaker.

"You take good care of m'pa. Treat him respectful."

Wilkinson gulped and nodded at the unmistakeable menace in his voice. This was one funeral he would take the utmost care with.

Inez Recillos wandered around the clinic, looking at the neatly labeled jars of herbs and drugs that Nathan kept on his shelves. Whilst she was reasonably educated, she still stumbled over some of the names on the labels and she wondered what they were used for. Then she looked at the books on his table, her curiosity picqued, and she came to the conclusion that the healer was a very knowledgeable man.

Suddenly she heard a soft groan and she turned back to the bed, remembering her promise to Nathan. Chris Larabee was stirring restlessly and she removed the almost dry cloth from his forehead, moistening in the bowl of water before replacing it gently across his brow. As the damp cloth touched his forehead Chris started to open his eyes.

"N... athan... ?" he began, but a soft feminine voice answered him.

"No, senor. He is not here."

"Inez?" The gunslinger blinked in surprise. "What... are you doing... here? Where's... Nathan?"

Inez hesitated; she had seen how worried Nathan was when he had asked her to stay, and she did not want to upset the injured man any further. Reading the unspoken concern in her silence Chris turned and looked towards Vin's bed but the tracker was no longer there.

"Dammit! Where is he?" There was an edge of panic to the man's demand and the girl had no option but to tell him the truth.

"He is gone. Senor Jackson is looking for him."

"Shit!" Chris started to push back the covers but the young Mexican perched on the edge of the bed and forced him back down.

"I would not advise it, Senor." Inez gave a knowing smile. "You have no clothes on and there is a lady present."

Chris felt himself flushing with embarrassment as he realised that she spoke the truth and he sank back against the pillows, drawing the covers up to his chin.

"Would you like some water?" Inez could see how agitated and feverish he was and Chris nodded, realising that his leg would not allow him to move anyway. As she poured the liquid into a glass the gunslinger found himself thinking about Vin, wondering where the hell he had gone to. He had seen how disturbed the tracker had been the previous day and he knew that Nathan would not have let him go willingly, which meant that Vin had sneaked out surrepticiously. Chris could only hope that his young friend had not already left town in his confused state of mind.

As the girl brought the tumbler of water over to the bed they both heard the hesitant footsteps outside. They watched expectantly as the door opened and Chris forced himself up as Nathan and Ezra helped Vin inside.

"You found him!" Inez exclaimed, her tone indicating just how worried she had been.

"Yeah, he weren't far," Nathan explained as he sat the Texan on the edge of the spare bed and lifted his legs up. "Can ya boil me some water?"

"Si." Thrusting the glass at Ezra she filled the kettle and put it on the stove. The gambler stared at the glass for a moment in confusion and then went across to sit beside Chris.

"I believe you are in need of some refreshment, Mr Larabee," he stated, setting the glass on the side table as he helped the struggling gunslinger to sit up.

"Where'd you find him?" Chris demanded as the Southerner piled the pillows behind his back.

"He was... " Ezra hesitated, trying to find the right words. "He was at the undertakers. It appears he was keeping vigil over his father's body."

"Madre de Dios!" Inez exclaimed, crossing herself.

"So what's he done to his feet?" Chris could see the healer bending over Vin, bathing his feet and picking at something with his tweezers.

"Apparently he failed to see the broken glass on the floor." Ezra was not about to tell the gunslinger that their friend had broken into the funeral parlour like a common criminal.

Satisfied that he had removed all the splinters of glass Nathan smeared a thick salve across the soles of the tracker's feet and bound them loosely with clean bandages. Then he turned his attention to the lacerations on the young Texan's arm, cleaning them and taping a light dressing in place.

"Reckon ya oughta rest up here fer a few days," Nathan said as he smoothed down the last bandage. "Give 'em time t'heal."

"Sooner stay at m'wagon," Vin replied swinging his legs off the bed, but he saw the healer's look of disapproval and he hastened to reassure him. "S'okay. I ain't about to go anywhere 'til I buried m'pa."

"Alright." Nathan had no option but to agree. "Ya just take it easy an' keep off those feet as much as possible."

Vin nodded and reached for his boots, carefully pulling them on over the bandages. Standing up gingerly he felt himself sway slightly as he tried to keep his balance but then Ezra was beside him offering a hand in support.

"Allow me to help." the gambler said. "I was about to leave anyway." He turned and looked at his Mexican bartender. "Inez?"

"Is there anything else you require, Senor Jackson?" she asked.

"No - thanks. I'm fine now." Nathan knew that the Southerner would see Vin safely to his wagon and he was content.

Vin paused to pick up his hat and jacket and his eyes were drawn to the shirt that still bore the traces of his father's blood, shuddering as he re-lived the moment that he had held the dying man in his arms. As he moved towards the door, Ezra and Inez on either side of him, Chris called out to his friend.

"Vin - wait! We need to talk."

The tracker stopped and for a moment Chris thought he would turn and speak to him but then Vin reached for the door handle and limped from the clinic. The gunslinger slumped back with a groan, painfully aware that Vin had deliberately ignored him, and his feelings of guilt over Will Tanner's death grew stronger.

Nathan saw the gunslinger's dismayed expression and heard his soft groan and he knew that it was not just his wounds that caused Chris' pain. It was the bitter pill of a friend's rebuff that was hard to swallow.

"It's almost eleven o'clock, Buck." JD made the observation as he sat in the clinic with the ladies man and Nathan.

"Yeah I know, kid," Buck replied as he drained the last of the coffee from his cup.

"Reckon ya'd best be going then," Nathan put in and the ladies man looked at him in surprise.

"I thought you were coming too?"

"Was gonna. I promised Vin I'd be there when his pa was buried, but... " The healer paused, glancing across the room to the sleeping form of Chris Larabee. It had only been three days since he and Buck had brought the wounded gunslinger back to town and Chris was far from recovered. After Vin's precipitous departure from the clinic Chris' fever had grown worse, remaining dangerously high for almost twenty four hours. Nathan and Josiah had finally managed to get it down and now the gunslinger had fallen into an exhausted sleep, waking only occassionally to take some water or thin soup. "I ain't too happy 'bout leaving him," Nathan finished.

"I'll stay with him if you want," JD offered, surprising both men. The young peacekeeper had not been looking forward to attending Will Tanner's funeral. He had had little enough dealings with him in life and besides he was already upset at the prospect of Vin leaving.

"Thanks. He shouldn't give ya any trouble." Nathan slipped on his jacket and picked up his hat as he followed Buck out. JD went with them as far as the balcony and then he turned and went back in, coming to a startled stop just inside the doorway.

"Chris! What are you doing?"

The sound of Buck's voice had dragged Chris Larabee from his slumber some time ago but he had drifted in and out of sleep while the ladies man spoke with Nathan. He was content to lay there for the moment, knowing that any movement would spark off the pain in his leg.

"I promised Vin I'd be there when his pa was buried."

The comment from Nathan made Chris tense. He had not seen the tracker since he had limped out of the clinic with Inez and Ezra and he had no idea how much time had elapsed. He was terrified that the tracker might have left while he lay feverish and unconscious but the healer's words gave him a faint glimmer of hope. However, he knew that Nathan would not allow him up just yet and he doubted whether he could make it on his own anyway, but he desperately needed to speak to Vin. Then fate played right into his hands.

"I'll stay with him if you want," JD said, and Chris could see a way out of his dilemma. It took all his will power to remain quiet and still until he heard the others leave. Forcing himself into a sitting position the gunslinger pushed the sheet down and slowly swung his legs off the bed, gingerly putting his feet to the floor. He could feel the sweat trickling down his skin as his right leg started to throb and he clutched the sheet around his naked body.

"Chris! What are you doing?"

JD stared in horror at the trembling gunslinger as he sat on the edge of the bed. He had expected to find Chris still asleep, not halfway out of the clinic.

"What does it look like?" the older man gritted out. "Find me some clothes!"

"I don't think this a very good idea, Chris." JD took a hesitant step forward, seeing how much of an effort this was for the man. "Nathan'll kill me if I - "

"I'll kill you if you don't!" the gunslinger growled, and JD swallowed hard. "Just find me something to put on!"

The young peacekeeper had no choice; he could see how determined Chris was to leave and he knew that the gunslinger was going to attempt it, with or without his help. JD shook his head in despair as he went into Nathan's room, emerging a few moments later with a pair of pants and a dark grey shirt.

"Thanks, kid." Chris managed to slip the shirt on unaided but he needed JD's help with the pants and his boots. By the time he had finished he was beginning to feel a little dizzy with the pain, and JD was worried that he was about to pass out.

"Chris, this is stupid!" The young man tried once more to stop him but Chris was not about to be detered.

"Fetch me that broom," he demanded breathlessly. "And help me up."

It seemed to take forever to get down the clinic steps. Chris had his left arm draped across JD's shoulders whilst he used the broom as a makeshift crutch to support his injured leg.

"Where we going?" the young peacekeeper asked as they paused at the bottom of the stairs. The gunslinger did not answer immediately as he sagged against JD; he was too busy blinking sweat from his eyes and trying to catch his breath. "Chris? Where we going?"

"Cemetery." Chris forced his head up and peered along the street. "Gotta talk to Vin."

JD gave a resigned groan as they made their slow way down the street. At least Nathan and the others would be there when they arrived, and he would be able to hand the responsibility of the gunslinger over to them.

Vin Tanner did not feel the cold as he stood beside his father's grave. In fact he did not feel anything at all except numb. Even Josiah's words had washed over him without registering; he heard them but did not listen to them. The tracker was vaguely aware of Nathan and Ezra standing on either side of him, but he did not raise his head to acknowledge them, nor Buck who was standing a little further away. Nothing had distracted him from the sight of his father's coffin as it was lowered into the ground and he had gazed transfixed at it until Josiah had murmured a final 'Amen', but then he started as a hand touched his shoulder.

"Vin? Y'alright?" The healer was concerned by his friend's lack of reaction but in a way it was understandable.

Vin did not trust himself to answer. How could things ever be alright again? His life which had seemed so settled and content had been violently ripped apart by his own hands. The father he never knew existed had suddenly entered his life with plans and hopes for a future together, but those dreams had been snuffed out by a strange combination of doubt, mistrust, and loyalty.

"Ya need some time alone," Nathan stated. "We'll be in the saloon when yer ready."

The young Texan gave a tight nod as his friends moved away leaving him alone in the silence of his own thoughts. For several long minutes he remained staring at the open grave before turning to leave. He had only taken a few steps when he saw Chris Larabee standing by the entrance to the cemetery, JD at his side. The gunslinger was leaning heavily on a makeshift crutch while the younger peacekeeper spoke animatedly to him, but Chris did not appear to be listening as his hazel eys stayed fixed on the tracker.

Vin could feel himself quivering as he stared back, a myriad emotions suddenly rising to the surface as though the gunslinger's presence had provided the catalyst for their release. He saw JD back away as Chris spoke to him, seemingly reluctant to leave, but then that was forgotten as the gunslinger hobbled forward a few paces and blocked his path.

"Get outta m'way, Chris." The Texan's voice was low and angry but the other man did not move.

"Not until we've talked."

"Ain't nothin' t'talk about." The tracker took another step forward but Chris stood his ground. Vin could see how much of an effort it was for the gunslinger just to remain on his feet, but he refused to allow himself to feel a shred of compassion.

"D'you think I wanted this to happen?"

"Well it did, and I gotta live with that for the rest of m'life."

"I'm sorry." Chris did not know what else to say. "If I could change anything - "

"Sorry?" The young tracker's voice rose as he interupted. His overwhelming emotion now was anger and he was ready to lash out at the person closest to him. "Y'ain't sorry! Ya tried t'turn me against him all along!" Vin was no longer thinking clearly about what he said. "It's all yer fault he's dead. I mighta pulled the trigger but yer the one who killed my pa!"

The gunslinger drew a sharp breath; Vin's words were like a knife twisting in his guts but he could not help thinking that his friend was right. Maybe he had been a fool for going out to the ranch. Maybe he should simply have let Vin go, but he knew that he would not have rested easy with that decision. Will Tanner had as good as admitted his involvement in Ben Richardson's troubles and the untimely death of James Owen, and also that he had been responsible for his own father's fatal heart seizure. Although Chris felt as guilty as hell his instincts about the man had been proven correct but Vin would never see it that way.

"What? Nothin' to say, Larabee?" Vin snapped, and Chris looked down so that the other man could not see the hurt and despair in his eyes. "Seems t'me ya weren't short on words before."

"Don't you see? The man was a double-crossing liar and maybe even a murderer." Chris looked up slowly, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he forced the words out knowing how provocative they would be, and the gunslinger saw the look of cold fury that passed across Vin's face.

"Ya take that back right now!" he hissed but Chris persisted.

"Why? 'Cos you know it's true?"

"Bastard!" The gunslinger did not even have time to blink as Vin's fist connected with his jaw and he sprawled heavily on the ground. A cry of pain burst from his lips as he landed on his injured right leg but the Texan did not even seem to notice as he stood over the fallen man.

"Yer a liar!" he spat, grabbing the front of Chris' shirt and trying to haul him to his feet. "Get up!" he yelled.

"I ain't gonna fight you." Even if he had wanted to Chris would not physically have been able to manage it. Pain throbbed through his thigh and he could feel the blood from the re-opened wound trickling down his leg as he sat there.

"Yer a lousy coward! Ya got no right t'say that!" Vin was infuriated now and he could feel the hot tears rolling unashamedly down his cheeks but it was not just the grief that had caught up with him now. It was the bitter frustration and anger as he considered that Chris might very well be right. "To think I called ya my friend," he said, his voice breaking with emotion. "Guess I was a damn fool after all!"

As Vin continued to rant at him Chris remained sitting on the ground, his head bowed despondantly as the young Texan's recriminations fell around him like the earlier snow. The irony of where they were was not lost on him; their friendship had been forged in this very place as they saved Nathan from a lynch mob and now the wheel seemed to have turned full circle. That same friendship lay dying around him, snatched up and tossed away by the winter winds, and there was nothing he could do to save it.

"Of all the stupid, pig-headed... Why don't he ever listen?"

"Who? Chris?"

"No - JD." Buck sounded exasperated as he and Nathan hurried back to the cemetery. "All he had to do was sit and watch him."

"Ya can't blame him, Buck. Chris probably scared the hell outta him! I just hope he ain't done summat stupid."

Nathan sounded worried as he recalled JD's frantic arrival at the saloon. 'Chris has gone to talk to Vin,' he had said and Buck had immediately demanded to know how, and the young peacekeeper had had to admit he had been coerced into helping by the gunslinger. Buck had made vociferous remarks about JD's foolishness but the healer had been more concerned for Chris' well-being. The gunslinger was not in a fit state to be out of bed, let alone confronting someone whose emotional state was unpredictable.

"What the... ?" Buck uttered the exclamation as they reached the cemetery and saw Vin standing over Chris, his hands clenched into fists. "Get the hell away from him!" the ladies man ordered as he rushed forward and flung his arms around the tracker, physically hauling him back. The tracker thrust his arms up and broke Buck's grip on him, straightening his jacket as he glared down at the gunslinger.

"That's jus' what I aim to do!" Vin snapped, his eyes flashing fire. Without a backward glance the young Texan stormed off in the direction of the Livery.

"Where the hell's he going?" Buck demanded and he looked down at the sound of Chris' voice.

"Leaving."

Nathan was kneeling beside the gunslinger, a hand on his shoulder as he surveyed the dark stain soaking through the material of Chris' pants.

"What happened?" the healer wanted to know, but as Chris looked up he could clearly see for himself. Blood marked the corner of the gunslinger's mouth and a bruise was already beginning to darken on his jaw, but it was the pain in his eyes that told the whole story.

"He's leaving for good, Nathan, and there ain't a damn thing I can do about it."

Nathan had never heard such raw emotion and defeat in Chris' voice and he could not find the right words to ease the gunslinger's suffering. However, there was something that required more immediate attention.

"Let's get that leg seen to. Buck - can ya gimme a hand?"

Vin was having trouble saddling his black gelding. His anger had dissipated by the time he entered the Livery but his sorrow and regret refused to go away. Desperately he tried to blink back the tears that blurred his vision but there was no going back now. He had flung too many harsh and hurtful words at his friend, and he doubted that Chris would ever forgive him any more than he forgave himself for killing his own father.

The tracker had no idea where he was going to go; he had already packed what he needed some days before when he rode out to join his father, and now all he had to do was saddle his horse. Tightening the last buckle he led Peso out into the daylight and then stopped as he caught sight of Chris being helped back to the clinic by Buck and Nathan, but Vin had no desire to face any one of them again. Everything was simply too painful so he swung quickly into the saddle.

As he rode away a chill breeze froze the tears to his cheeks, cold glistening drops that matched the ache in his heart.

Chris was grateful to Buck and Nathan for their support as he limped heavily down the main street. He did not know what he had hoped to achieve by confronting Vin at the cemetery, but he realised that he had to make this one last effort. The gunslinger was already feeling the full weight of blame for Will Tanner's death even before Vin had tossed the accusations at his feet, but he was not angry. His friend had had to make a dreadful choice out at the ranch and he was still wondering why Vin had chosen to save him instead of his father.

Suddenly Chris stopped and looked up as Vin came from the stable leading his horse, but the tracker gave no sign that he had even seen him. The gunslinger watched as he climbed into the saddle, heading out of town without a backward glance.

"Dammit Vin!" he groaned, slumping between his two friends.

"D'you want me to go after him?" Buck asked, hearing Chris' utter despair.

"There's no point. I've lost him." The gunslinger's voice cracked with pent up emotion, his misery totally complete. Buck could see the tears forming in his eyes and the ladies man cursed softly; he cursed Vin and he cursed Chris and the vagueries of fate that had brought them both to this impass.

"Chris?"

The gunslinger ignored Nathan as he watched Vin disappear from sight; he had not felt such loss and hopelessness since Sarah and Adam had died. There had been nothing he could do about that either.

"Just take me back to the clinic." Chris' voice was flat and toneless, and Nathan glanced at him in concern. This was a side of the gunslinger that he had never seen before and he looked anxiously at Buck.

The ladies man shook his head sadly; he had been down this path before with his friend and he had hoped that it was something he would never see again, but it appeared that history was repeating itself.

+ + + + + + +

Almost three weeks had passed since Will Tanner's burial and Vin's subsequent departure and the town was slowly returning to normal. However, for some people things would never be the same again.

Chris Larabee had spent most of that time in the clinic; Vin's leaving had had a detremental effect on the gunslinger's health and his re-opened wound had become badly infected. At one point Nathan had even feared that Chris would succumb to gangrene and it had taken all of his skill and knowledge to keep the life-threatening condition at bay. Even once the infection was starting to clear the gunslinger remained apathetic and listless, silently taking any medicine and nourishment that was forced on him.

Nathan grew increasingly concerned by Chris' calm acceptance of his ministrations; so many times in the past the healer had wished for his patients to be a little more co-operative but now that it had happened he found it unnerving. This was not the Chris Larabee he was used to. It was as though the gunslinger did not want to recover. However, his physical condition had improved due to Nathan's perseverence and eventually the healer had to let him leave with strict instructions to take things easy, but although the external wounds had healed there were others, deeper and hidden far away, that were still raw and bleeding.

The other peacekeepers kept a watchful eye on him and Buck was confounded when Chris did not immediately turn to the bottle. Instead he was like a man simply going through the motions of life, eating and sleeping when he had to but barely talking to anybody. The others were still upset about Vin going but now their anxiety was focussed on the gunslinger and his unnatural reaction to the traumatic events.

On the evening of the third day after he had been released from the clinic Chris walked into the saloon and ordered himself a beer before joining his friends at their usual table in the corner.

"Chris." Buck raised his glass in acknowledgement.

"I think you ought to know I'll be leaving in the morning." The gunslinger took a sip of his beer as he let his words sink in, and it was JD who voiced all of their thoughts.

"Y'gonna look for Vin!" he stated excitedly. "We'll come with you."

"Nope. I'm just leaving." The others were too stunned to speak as Chris drained his beer and slowly stood up. "Goodbye boys." He glanced around at their shocked faces before turning on his heel and limping out. JD scrambled to his feet as if to go after him but Buck caught his arm and sat him back down.

"Let him go, kid." Buck was not as surprised as the others; he had been expecting this for a while now and he knew better than to try and stop Chris. He had seen the gunslinger plunge into the same headlong depression that had taken him after the deaths of Sarah and Adam, seen the same bitter anger and frustration at his own helplessness, and even though he had not stepped onto the dangerous path to self-destruction it could only be a matter of time.

+ + + + + + +

Mary Travis turned and walked back along the boardwalk, carefully watching the door for any sign of movement. It was still fairly early but some of the towns people were up and about and they cast curious glances at her as she paced back and forth. Suddenly the door creaked and swung open.

"Mary." As Chris came out of the boarding house he was a little surprised to find the newspaperwoman waiting for him. A thick woollen shawl was pulled about her shoulders and her blonde hair was somewhat dishevelled, almost as though she had been in a hurry.

"They told me you were leaving. How can you go like this? It's not right."

"I can't stay. Not now."

"I know how much you miss him." Mary saw the gunslinger flinch even though she had not said the tracker's name, but she pressed on desperately. "But he'll be back. You'll see."

Chris stared at her, seeing the anguish in her eyes and he shook his head. "It's been nearly a month now. He won't be back."

"Then you've got to go and find him!"

"I can't," the gunslinger replied softly. "It's time to move on." He started to walk away, but Mary clutched at his arm.

"So you're just going to abandon your duties? Your responsibilties to these people?" There was a touch of anger in her voice now.

"They don't need me. Buck and the others can look after Four Corners."

"Then to hell with the town!" Mary looked up at him, her voice breaking as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Can't you see that I need you?"

Chris looked at her for a long moment. He had been aware of Mary's feelings towards him for some time now and it would have been all too easy to allow himself to fall in love with her, but the memory of Sarah and Adam always held him back.

"I know, Mary. I'm sorry, but I can't stay." The gunslinger reached out and gently cupped her chin, tilting her tear-streaked face up. "Goodbye," he whispered, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

Chris could hear her sobbing as he walked away but he dared not look back for fear of losing his resolve. His mind was made up and he could not allow anyone to stop him now.

The gunslinger flexed his arm experimentally, easing the last traces of stiffness from his fingers before settling the blanket over the back of his black gelding. Smoothing it into place he picked up the saddle, his actions instinctive as his mind churned over the events of the last few weeks. He had made his decision to go when he had watched Vin riding away after his father's funeral but his injuries had prevented that. As he recovered his determination had grown stronger even though he was aware that everybody else wanted him to remain in Four Corners. Once again Chris saw the image of Mary Travis crying and he knew that it would be harder to stay than to leave.

"So where y'gonna go?"

The gunslinger jumped as Buck spoke, his lack of concrentration indicative of his feelings and Pony flinched away nervously. Chris turned round and the ladies man felt his own heart constricting as he saw the tormented expression on his friend's face.

"Dunno. I ain't thought about it much."

Buck stepped forward and rested his arms on the top rail of the stall. "You can still change your mind, y'know. We can still go and look for Vin."

Chris turned away and carried on saddling Pony. "He don't wanna be found, Buck. 'Sides, you told me to let him go, so I did."

"Don't you set the blame on me for this. Not this time." The ladies man sounded angry as he walked into the black's stall to face his friend.

"I ain't about to," Chris told him with a sigh. "If anyone's to blame it's me.

As Buck watched the gunslinger secure his saddlebags he knew with absolute certainty that he would not be back and he wondered whether he would ever see his friend again. There was something in Chris' eyes that scared the hell out of him; it was as though half of his soul had been wrenched from him, and Buck had seen this before. Then the gunslinger had drifted from one dangerous situation to another, with no thought or care for his own life until he had reached Four Corners. This time there would be no Vin Tanner to save Chris from himself. No-one should have to face such a devastating loss twice, but Chris had turned away from him four years ago and he was doing it again now.

"What about her?" Buck asked, indicating the Arab mare standing placidly in the stall next to Pony. Chris glanced over the gelding's back, seeing part of another dream that had died before it had really had the chance to begin, but the gunslinger was intent on severing all ties to this part of his life.

"See if y'can get a good price for her and give the money to Josiah. The church can always use it."

Buck nodded as he tried desperately to put off the painful moment of farewell, but as Chris stepped forward and held out his hand he found he had nothing left to say.

"Goodbye, Buck."

The ladies man hesitated for a moment before grasping his friend's hand firmly and pulling him forward.

"Y'take care of yerself, y'hear?" he whispered in a choked voice as he caught Chris in a bone-crushing hug.

"You too, Buck." The gunslinger's words were muffled against the other man's shoulder but then he pulled away and gathered up Pony's reins as he led the horse from the stall. Buck walked silently beside him until they reached the street and then he hung back as Chris climbed slowly into the saddle. The gunslinger turned and looked over his shoulder along the main street of Four Corners as if for the last time, and then he urged the black forward as he rode off towards an unknown future.

Nathan stood quietly on the balcony of the clinic as the tall figure of Chris Larabee rode away, unable to believe that he was really going. He saw Buck, forlorn and bereft, wipe the tears from his eyes unaware that he was being observed, and the healer felt the weight of anguish in his own heart. His worry and anxiety for Chris and Vin would haunt him for a long time to come, but his immediate concern was how it would effect everybody else. The seven men had forged a seemingly unbreakable bond of friendship and loyalty, but now that lay in shreds.

Only time would tell what else would be ruined by the irreparable rift between Chris Larabee and Vin Tanner.

FINIS

When did you stop lookin' homeward - Deep in trouble endlessly.
Just like a ghost 'cross the water - You disappeared quietly.
Now every day seems too long - And everythin' just goes wrong.
So when d'ya start to live again - Oh what a way for this to end.

Chorus
You better let somebody in - No open door to anything.
You better let somebody in - The time's growin' shorter.
Let somebody in - You're gonna lose it all again.
You better let somebody in - Before your blood turns to water.
- Let Somebody In by Magnum
- Lyrics by Tony Clarkin