All That Glitters

by Deirdre

Part One

Buck Wilmington eased his muscular frame off the chair outside the sheriff's office and stretched. It was a beautiful day, the air was crisp and the sky was brilliant blue. The town had been quiet for over a week now. No brawls, shootouts, robberies or trouble to investigate. He scratched his belly and frowned. That should be good, but he, like his friends, was growing restless. He waved to Josiah, who was ontop of the roof of the church. The gray-haired eldest was sitting cross-legged, palms outstretched, face to the sun.

"What the hell are you doing, Preacher?" Buck boomed, ambling over to the stone building.

" ... taking a sun bath."

"Huh?" the ladies man squinted into the bright orb above.

"Drinking in the Lord's rain, pondering his words and my path ... "

" ... better you than me ... " Wilmington called back, spotting J.D. emerge from the sheriff's office. "Hey Kid, wanna go fishing?"

"Can't Buck, I'm on duty."

"Duty?" He winced, "..doing what? Jail's empty ... no strangers in town ... "

"The Judge is coming today. I got a wire this morning. He wants us all to meet him at four o'clock at the hotel."

"That don't sound good."

"It gets worse, the army's involved."

"The army?"

"Yeah ... I think it's tied to those missing shipments."

"After all this time?" Ezra Standish inquired, having joined the duo. "It's been over three months since the last disappearance."

"That was three, right?" Buck asked, mentally trying to recall the mysterious disappearances of army shipments. The first had been almost a year ago, then one about six months ago, before the last one, just over three months ago.

"Yeah," J.D. answered, pulling out a small notebook and flipping through it, "Last July the payroll due to be delivered to Fort Williams disappeared without a trace. The couriers and wagon were never found. Same thing near Halloween when the new Winchesters bound for the coast disappeared in between Yuma and San Diego. Then in January, it was another payroll - same territory."

"So that's about ten men missing? Why isn't Washington involved?" Buck wondered of the Nation's capital.

"Whoever the perpetrators are, they are exceedingly clever and careful. Nary a clue has been uncovered." Standish noted, eyeing the preacher on the roof.

"Sunbath," Buck answered the pensive jade eyes, "Don't ask ... anyhow, sounds like an inside job to me."

"Which is precisely the reason the good Judge is convening here," the conman acknowledged, "This is his terrain and perhaps Washington wants him to do a private investigation. Lord knows it would fare better than the official ones have."

"Ezra's got a point," J.D. nodded, "The army hasn't uncovered one thing in all this time. If whoever is pulling these robberies are on track, the next one is due now. We need to get a hold of Vin and Chris. Nate is at the freight office, picking up his new supplies, I'll get him."

"I'll ride out for Chris," Buck said, "Vin hears the word 'army' and he's likely to bolt." He noted of their tracker's intense dislike of blue uniforms.

"Where's Vin?" J.D. asked, eyeing the rooftops.

"He's fixing Mrs. Travis's stove ... I'll speak with him." Ezra tipped his cap.

"You best pick some real fancy words, Ace," Buck slapped the bright green jacket of the gambler as they walked away.

"I'll shall do my best to avoid any references to the armed forces."

El Camino Del Diablo, Arizona

Hidden within the network of trails that connected waterholes, campsites, hunting grounds and shrines used by the Pinacatenos and Arenenos tribes was a desolate area, known as "the devil's road' or 'the road to death'. Stretching from just south of Yuma down into Mexico, this barren collection of rocks and misery in the desert was claim to many graves. It was also the perfect route for the elusive bandits to access.

It was a decision that came after years of work and planning. The first step was getting established well within the army ranks. With over twenty-five years of service and many citations and medals for bravery, the gold braids he wore had their rewards. He spent much of his time in California and Arizona, where the railroad was expanding at record rate. As the army's official representative, overseeing the routes, maps, plans and other expansion duties, he had a dream job. He was his own master, travelling throughout the area with the right papers intact, giving him access. He also had a hand picked crew of six men, men who had ridden with him since before the war and would die for him. Men who were now very wealthy, thanks to careful planning, patience and timing.

The second step was picking the right area in Mexico to use as a base camp. From here, the money and arms stolen were distributed. He'd used some of funds to purchase a silver mine, which was already turning a nice profit. It wasn't traceable to him, of course, he'd used an alias and a well paid Mexican actor to do the deed. The labor in Mexico came cheap and the poor bastards didn't ask questions. The few dollars they were paid weekly was more than most saw in a year, so they were happy. They were also well fed, housed and clothed, all key ingredients in keeping a happy camp. This new shipment, silver from New Mexico to be transported via the train route through Yuma into San Diego, was a huge one. It was also the last heist they'd pull. He had more than enough money and would be retiring soon. He had plans to build a large home in San Diego and settle down there.

His men? He smiled as he rode closer to Paso Del Norte, for the meeting. The wire from General Douglas Kent in Washington didn't mince words. The army was under heavy fire up there, because no trace or clue to the bandits of the three robberies were ever found. This shipment of silver was critical to the army and the President dressed down the General but good. That meant the General passed that stern edict along the lines. He got the news and immediately set out, after updating his right hand, Brad Garrett. Garrett was the only one, besides himself, who was still active in the army. The other five were officially 'dead' having been killed in action. But as 'ghosts' they were able to move freely, still in uniform without identification.

The first job had been easy, the army had grown fat over the years and thought themselves to be above reproach. Garrett led the raid, taking the wagon easily, just east of Yuma in the middle of nowhere. The four soldiers on duty, didn't balk when Garrett and the others rode in, dissheveled and battered, claiming an Indian raid up ahead. They had official papers, he signed and sealed, with an alternate route. This new route ran right through the devil's highway. The four sentries were sold into slavery in Mexico, as were the six who followed on the next two hits. Two of Garrett's men covered the trail. It was a beautiful operation.

"You're awful quiet tonight."

"Life is beautiful, Brad my boy," he grinned at the blond young man. Garrett has one of those faces that would melt the most cynical heart. The golden wavy hair and large blue eyes, spit and polish manners and lean body in uniform, were the ulimate Trojan horse. Unbeknowst to those who met him and easily fell prey to his smile, was the heart of a serpent. He was a ruthless killer, whose greed was only sated in silver and gold. The lust for the kill was born during the Civil War, which unleashed the beast within.

"You're not worried?" Garrett asked, eyeing the brilliant mastermind.

"No, they're running scared. This Judge we're meeting is the territorial law. Since Yuma, and the robberies, are within his range, he is the logical choice. I've heard about his 'peacekeepers' and they are getting a reputation all their own."

"The Magnifico's?" Garrett nodded, having read his leader's outline and plan.

"By next week, they'll be the dead Magnifico's ... " he laughed and urged his horse forward. "I have a plan, Brad my boy ... oh do I have a plan ... "

Buck sighed in frustration, slapping his hat against his thigh. He was hot, tired and getting more annoyed by the minute. Chris was fixing the posts and shoring up the fences of his new corral. He and Vin had worked hard all winter, building a large barn. Chris wanted to buy horses, breed them and sell them. The rogue sighed again, following the silent body to the water pump.

"Hell, Chris, I've had better conversations with a corpse."

Larabee said nothing, dousing his sweat-ridden blond hair with cold water. He stripped to the waist and cleaned the grime off his lean torso, using a large cotton cloth to dry off. He strode inside, pausing long enough to get a clean shirt, button up and tuck, and grab his gunbelt and hat. He combed his hair, tossed a handful of cheroots in his pocket and pulled on his poncho.

Buck had his horse ready when he got outside and the lean black leg slid easily into the stirrup. He swung his leg over, letting his taut body slide right into the saddle. He saw a tan cloth coated arm reach over and hand him the reins.

"Look, I know you're worried about Vin. Hell, Chris, I don't like seein' him get upset either. But he's gotta learn to trust the Judge's instincts. Everybody in blue isn't wearin' horns ... " Buck stopped, the green eyes bore into him hard.

"Vin's got his reasons."

"What reasons?"

"Not on your business, Buck!" Larabee snapped ferally, baring his teeth in a sneer, "none of mine either."

"That ain't good enough!" the scoundrel deflected, his horse going into a trot to keep up, "If his head isn't in this job, my hide, your hide, hell, all of our hides could be full of holes ... " His logic was cut off when with lightning speed, a black glove shot over and grabbed his shirt.

"Drop it!" Chris snarled, furious that anyone would impugn Vin's integrity. "I got his word, it's good enough for me!"

" ... and he also gave his word to the Judge ... " Buck persisted, "You know he's gonna be full of piss and vinegar when Orrin tells him that we gotta work with the Army. Chris ... Chris ... shit!"

Buck huffed, shook his head and watched the leader of the seven ride toward town. Chris Larabee was the toughest man breathing, east of everywhere. But when it came to a raspy-voiced, long-haired Texan, he had a big Achilles heel.

"Mrs. Travis, you look lovely today," Ezra oozed of the pretty widow.

"Thank you Ezra, you're looking pretty spiffy yourself!" she returned, eyeing the handsome, young gambler. "What brings you to the Clarion?"

"I seek a word or two with your laborer."

"Vin?" She shook her head, "He finished ... headed over to the Saloon, I think."

"Thank you," he purred, tipped his hat and left.

Like an invasion of annoying ants at a picnic, the blue bodies swarmed into the drinkery. Having ridden since sunup, they were tired, hungry and very thirsty. Some of them got tables, others headed to the bar. Three eyed each other and nodded to a figure standing at the bar, his back to them. They recognized the buckskin clothing and long hair ... and didn't hide their distaste.

Vin didn't see them arrive, he'd been helping Inez unload some grain and flour. He hadn't eaten since breakfast and he was starving. He downed a beer and waited patiently at the bar, while she got a plate of chicken fajitas and tortillas for him. His head was pounding and all he wanted to do was eat and crawl into his bed at the boarding house. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the light that was causing the pounding temples to near explode.

"Senor Vin?" Inez guessed that Vin's quiet movements in the kitchen and squinting of those pretty blue eyes, was due to him not feeling well. He'd never complain, that wasn't his way. "Are you ill?"

" ... m'okay, Miss Inez, thanks," Vin rasped. He walked closer, fixing on taking the plate. He heard noises behind him, guffaws and the distinct odor of sweating males filled the room. He only turned his body halfway, when a large brute shoved past him.

"Well, now, lookee here," Hank Badger and his mates swarmed behind and around Vin, eyeing the pretty server. "Honey, how 'bout you and me goin' upstairs and gettin' better acquainted. I bet you're a wild one ... your kind always is. Look at them pretty tits, Wallie ... " he grabbed Inez improperly, only to find a sawed off shotgun in his gut.

"Git yer filthy paws offa her and keep that hole o'yers shut." Vin snarled, moving to place himself in front of Inez. "Ya say yer sorry and take the rest of yer rabid animal pack and git out!"

"Wallie, you know what's worse than an uppity, foul-mouthed youngun?" The old calvary rider eyed the medicine pouch proudly hanging on the angry young man's neck. He spit a large wad of tobacco at the tracker, hitting his cheek.

"Sure do, Cap," the soldier replied, slamming his rifle into Vin's side and staggering him. The gun fell from the young man's grasp as he breath was stolen. He then grabbed the long hair and slammed the gasping face hard into bar. " ... a heathen breed minglin' with decent folks ... " He raised his foot, intending on kicking the semi-conscious man's face, with his partner's laugh echoing in his ear.

"Badger! Wallace! What's the meaning of this!" a booming voice interrupted.

"We just wanted some grub, Major, this injun-lover got out of hand ... we was just teachin' him some manners ... "

"If I may interject," Ezra slipped by the irate commander and pushed the offensive soldiers from around Vin's prostrate form. "This young man did nothing wrong. He was merely defending the lady's honor. Your men were out of line and manhandled her, as well as using offensive language."

"I'd like an answer," the senior army man moved towards the troublemakers.

"We was only havin' some fun with her ... the breed got out of line."

"Get your men and get to the hotel. You're both on report. Now!" he barked, watching the man in the green coat help a young man in buckskin's to his feet. Despite his injuries, he shrugged off the assistance, his arm shot out, preventing the two soldiers from leaving.

"Yer fergettin' somethin'," Vin spat in disgust, leaving a trail of blood and saliva on his chin. "Apologize t'her ... "

"Sorry Miss," Wallace nodded, Badger followed suit, not forgetting the breed's face. He'd get his revenge later.

"I'm sorry, Miss, young man," the man in blue held his hand out, "I'm Major Thomas Kelly and I'm here for a meeting with Judge Travis."

"Ezra Standish," the gambler moved in and took the hand, knowing damn right well the angry tracker would never take it, "Miss Inez Recillos, the owner of this establishment." He nodded to Inez, "I gather it will be understood that while your men are in town, they will conduct themselves as gentlemen?" Ezra managed to hide his digust ... barely.

"You have my word," Kelly replied, frowning at the snort of contempt from the long-haired man. The pretty proprietress was holding a cloth to his bleeding lip. One eye was already swelling and by his curved posture, the Major realized his ribs were injured. "I'm very sorry for the misunderstanding. They've been riding all day and ... "

"Ya alright?" Vin cut off the irritating voice and turned his back to the army. He rested a concerned eye on Inez.

She blushed and smiled, when his rough hand rested over her soft one pressed to his cut lip. "Si, Senor Vin, thanks to you. Should I get Senor Jackson?"

"Nah ... m'okay ... I don't think m'jaws likely t'be upta chewin' ... " he eyed the plate of hot food on the bar. "Reckon I'll come back later. I need t'get some fresh air, it stinks in here." He turned his cobalt eyes to the Major, letting them linger and sending a very harsh message. He saw the older man flush and back up. He was halfway to the door, when Ezra caught up to him.

"I'm sorry, Vin."

"Weren't yer fault, Ez," Tanner mumbled, holding his aching ribs.

"Broken?" Standish saw the flinch and heard the hiss.

"Nah, sore as hell though." Vin went through the batwing doors and paused, "Thanks Ez, fer the hand. Sometimes yer five dollar words go down right easy."

"My pleasure, Mister Tanner," The other smiled and nodded, "However, I must apologize again, in advance. We are requested to meet with Judge Travis at the hotel."

"Fuck!" Vin paused by the pump, taking off his kerchief and wetting it, then holding it to his rapidly swelling eye. "That's why the town is crawlin' with them lowlifes," he said with disgust of the army. He rinsed the cloth again and pressed it to his lip, feeling his stomach churn.

"Shall we?" Ezra waited and walked slowly, noticing Vin was having difficulty. "Are your sure we shouldn't see out the good healer? Your lip is still bleeding ... "

"After the meetin'," Vin rasped, "s'good thing I didn't eat, they's enough t'make me lose m'lunch.' Wouldda decorated them stinkin' uniforms but good ... "

Four p.m., Virginia Hotel, upstairs in the largest suite of rooms.

"Good afternoon, Gentlemen, please be seated and I'll make the introductions." Orrin Travis noted the five officers on his right and the five peacekeepers on his left. Neither looked happy about the arrangement. "Where are Standish and Tanner?"

"We were delayed," a haughty Southern voiced from the door, "J.D ... " Ezra jerked his head, spotting the young lawman in the closest chair. The youth rose instantly, seeing his friend's battered state.

"Vin!' The youth's voice died off as he backed up and let the Texan past.

"What the hell happened?" Chris moved from his chair and made the mistake of grabbing Vin's arm as he sat down. The tense muscles didn't melt into his hand and the help offered was thrown off. Vin's stormy blue eyes locked onto the table before him. He was hunched forward slightly, guarding his injured ribs and trying not to find a spot that was comfortable.

"Vin?" Nathan moved past Chris and squatted down, eyeing the furious younger man. "I'm talkin' ta yuh, look over here," he took the square chin and tilted it, inspecting the marred lip. "Yuh gonna need stitches ... " his hand moved along the lean ribcage and felt the sharp intake of air, before the hiss of pain. "They're not broken, but I'm gonna wrap 'em up ... Anything else I need ta ... "

"No!" Vin hissed in fury, trying to turtle up. " ... leave it ... " he warned both Larabee and Jackson, who both backpedalled.

"Ezra?" Chris whispered, as the gambler moved in front of him. The other nodded, sending a clear but silent message that the information would be given later. Chris let his hand rest on Vin's shoulder a moment, gave a solid tug of support, then he slid into the next chair.

"Are you alright, Son?" Orrin rested his eyes on the struggling figure in buckskin. He waited several moments, until the head lifted. Those blue eyes which could speak volumes, were now icy. He followed the line of fire to Major Kelly, a longtime friend. "Vin?" Then his own eyes narrowed when the tracker's blue ones locked on to the figure at the end. The cold eyes turned to simmering blue flames and he would have swore he heard a growl.

"..m'fine ... " Vin spat hostily, staring in disgust at the parade of gold braids across from him. His eyes lingered on the man sitting on the end. Man? That was a laugh. His breathing became rapid and he felt a surge of anger he thought he left behind in a cold, damp Yankee Prison.

"J.D., open the door," Chris requested quietly, seeing the Texan's chest heaving and a sweat breaking out on his fine features. "It's warm in here."

"I'm afraid I'm responsible for this young man's injury." The Major paused as five sets of eyes from the peacekeepers across from him shot up in fury. One set, blazing green from a man dressed in black, were enough to make him squirm.

"You better explain that, Major." Chris Larabee directed in a quiet, lava-tinted tone, squaring his shoulders. He started to stand, but felt a slight, firm Tanner tug on his sleeve. He relented and rested back in his chair.

"We've been riding hard all day, to get here on time. My men were tired, hot and a little rammy. A couple of them got out of line in the saloon. Again, young man, I'm very sorry. It won't happen again."

"Yer damn right it won't!" Vin growled, shoving Josiah's hand off his shoulder, "'er I'll finish what I started. Ya got m'word."

"Let's get one thing clear," Chris stood now, representing his men. He gave Vin's shoulder a brief, but solid tug of support, his eyes drilling the army. He leaned over, resting his white knuckles on the polished table. He studied the Judge for a moment, before eyeing the Calvary men. "We represent the citizens of this territory, not the army. That is the reason, the only one, that we're here, to protect them. Don't make the mistake of using 'lack of sleep' or 'riding hard all day' shit again as an excuse again. They're your men, you keep them sober and civil, understood."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement, the penetrating green stare was the exclamation point. Major Kelly knew instantly that the brooding leader was speaking for the group, but the warning was due to the young man next to him. Someone he held close and by the look of muted fury in the green eyes, someone he would kill to protect. He nodded, biting his lip slightly.

"Understood, Mister ... Larabee, isn't it?" The blond head dipped once, "You're more than correct and it was a sorry excuse, it won't happen again."

"No, it won't!" Chris said through gritted teeth. "or you'll be sorry you ever set foot in this territory."

"I'm going to proceed now," Orrin cut through the tension. "As you well know, for the nine months, the army has suffered three large losses of property. These thefts also involved ten men, missing who are presumed dead. General Kent and President Grant both want this problem resolved. A large shipment of silver is being transported from New Mexico, through the territory to the train in Yuma."

"That's a whole lotta desert to cover," Josiah noted, eyeing the large map behind Orrin Travis.

"Let me introduce you gentlemen. You've already met Major Kelly. To his right are Major John Thomson, Colonel Richard Dixon, Colonel James Creech and on the end, General Nicholas Reinhardt." He watched Chris Larabee's gaze study each face carefully. "These are the peacekeepers I told you about. Their reputation speaks for itself."

"Yes, we've heard about your endeavors, very impressive," The General nodded, his trained eye immediately picking out the cool man in black as the leader. "You look familiar, young man, do I know you?"

"It's been awhile, Sir, I trained under you at West Point, and served with you later briefly during the war." Chris replied coolly, keeping his eyes on the military, but hearing Vin's increased breathing and the sound of the wiry body squirming in the chair next to him.

"Larabee ... of course!" He nodded, "Outstanding officer, one of our best. You should have stayed in uniform, Son, you were an excellent leader."

Chris didn't comment and returned his gaze to Orrin Travis. "Do you have a plan?"

"If I may interject," Colonel Dixon nodded to the man next to him. "Jim and I have been tossing some options around. I think we may have a plan."

The blond man stood in the shadows across the street, eyeing the group leaving the hotel. It was past dusk and the dancing shadows of twilight hid him well. His blue eyes narrowed as they spotted a buckskinned, long-haired man. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, trying to find something in the past. Curious, he waited until they entered the saloon, before crossing the street. He peeked in the window and stared at the young man, now just a few feet away. The profile was familiar ... the eyes ... he smiled then and let his even white teeth show.

"Well, well, Tanner, small world ... " He turned back and spotted his leader shaking hands with a man who he recognized as Judge Travis. Their eyes met briefly and he nodded, knowing they'd meet at the hotel later. He shoved his body away from the wall and disappeared down the alley. He smiled again, thinking on the upcoming reunion between himself and the former Commache. He remembered all to well the last meeting, close to seven years ago. He was counting on that hot temper to be the bounty hunter's undoing. It saved his neck last time. He moved up the backsteps of the hotel and slipped inside, seeking a hot female body and a soft bed.

Ezra took the plate from Inez and headed back into the Saloon. Josiah and J.D. ate heartily, each making the steak and fried potatoes disappear quickly. Nathan was stitching Vin up and wrapping his ribs in his clinic. They'd join them shortly. He sat at the table with Buck and Chris, neither of whom looked much interested in the bowl of stew on the table.

"Spill it," Chris said, sipping his whiskey and lifting his eyes to look at the gambler.

"Two of Kelly's men, Wallace and Badger, approached Inez. The cretin named Badger grabbed her improperly and spoke disgustingly. Vin interceded and demanded they apologize and leave. The one named Wallace slammed his ribs with a rifle and then smashed his face into the bar. They also taunted him. I arrived at the same time the Major did and dispersed them. We're not getting off on a good foot."

"I don't like this plan, Chris. Splittin' up into three groups ... " Buck sighed, "I got a bad feeling."

"I agree," Ezra nodded, sipping some bourbon. "but it would appear our hands are tied. I suggest we choose up teams very carefully."

"Yeah," the blond nodded, mulling over the Judge's words. Three plans had been discussed and despite their objections, the Judge decided in favor of the army's plan. Three of the seven would pose at civilians, riding on the train in question. Two others would ride on a stage bearing a large payroll. The remaining two would follow the trail in between, along with an army troop, hoping to spot the bandits. There was only one road they could use and it was hell all over again.

"Camino Del Diablo ... " Josiah shook his gray head.

"Aptly named," Standish imparted, eyeing the brooding leader. The pale green eyes peeked under the flat brimmed hat to the door. They lingered, seeking the tracker. He knew Chris was worried about Vin's state of mind.

"How we gonna play it, Chris?" Buck inquired, eyeing his oldest friend. Over the stiffened black-clothed shoulders, he spotted Nathan and Vin entering the drinkery. Nate gave his dark head a slight shake, indicating Vin's mood was no better. The rogue had eyes, he could see that. The tracker looked liked a walking keg of explosives.

The blond scrubbed a hand across his weary face and eyed his men. "Vin's on the train. He'd never last cooped up in a small stagecoach and no way I'm letting him near a whole troop of calvary. Ezra, you and Buck will go with Vin. Josiah and Nate will take the stage. Me and the Kid will ride with the General and his men. Okay?"

"Ya takin' t'makin' m'decisions fer me, Larabee!"

Chris sighed, closed in eyes in frustration and balled his hands into fists. He pushed his body away from the table and took a steadying breath. He didn't have to look up, he knew those cobalt Tanner eyes were burning a hole in his shirt.

"You hungry Vin?" J.D. croaked, seeing the wall of tension rising between the men.

"He is!" Nathan pulled chair back and pointed. "Sit yer hot head down and put some meat in that belly. Yuh ain't had nuthin' all day and yer cranky as a wounded bear."

Reluctantly, the tracker sat, his left arm guarding his wrapped bruised ribcage. The lip was swollen and sore and his eye throbbed in time with the raging headache. Nate gave him something for the pain, but on an empty stomach, it didn't sit well. The invasion of blue uniforms filled his insides with churning fire.

"Senor Vin?"

He turned at the soft call and saw Inez appear. The pretty features were painted with worry. His turmoil at Larabee melted and his whole demeanor changed. "Ya alright, Miss Inez?"

"Si," she nodded and squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry, for what they did."

"No need t'fret, not yer doin'," the curly brown head bobbed. "Ya didn't have t'make somethin' special ... fer me."

"You are special," her voice lowered, and she cupped his chin and smiled warmly."I wanted to, your mouth is sore ... eggs, I thought, would be easy. I put extra cheese in and minced ham."

"Thanks," Vin smiled, lifting the biscuit and dipping into the honey. "Don't ya worry none, I aim to teach that bastard a lesson."

"You stay away from him Vin," Chris ordered, "We do this quick and easy, no trouble."

"Trouble?" Vin's voice was sarcastic, "with the army, can't imagine!" He gobbled down a mouthful of biscuit, draining the mug of herbal tea Nate sat down.

"None of us like it, Vin, but we owe it to the Judge. We all agreed to protect this area and the folks that live here." Buck's voice died when the fiery blue eyes tore into him.

"That's fine, Bucklin, them words'll look rite pretty on yer headstone."

"Vin, you can't lump all of them into one catagory. I wore that uniform once, I was one of them. Does that make me a barbarian?" Larabee quizzed.

"Ya ain't wearin' one now!" Vin replied, uneasily, Chris's stare was unnerving him. He had a mental image of Chris in uniform during the war.

"I wore blue too, Vin ... " Buck said quietly, watching the tracker struggle with his emotions. "Whatever happened to you, Vin, we're all sorry ... but not every blue uniform is a devil in disguise."

He shook his head and shoveled the eggs in, not even tasting them. The more the meal went down, the angrier he got. He still had nightmares, saw the carnage, smelled their rancid breath. The rank odor of burning flesh and blood was one you never forgot. He shoved his lean body from the table, sending the plate to the floor.

"Stop it!" Chris stood and grabbed the irate arm. "You're acting like a spoiled child. You get that temper under control. I know you're upset ... but I need your head clear!"

"Ya don't know a Goddamn thing, Larabee!" Vin glared, his intense eyes inches from his best friend's. He'd die for this man, without question, he felt that deeply for him. But he couldn't make Chris see through his eyes.

"Not if you don't tell me, I can't ... " Chris's voice trailed off, seeing Vin's eyes briefly glaze over "Vin, some of the finest men I've ridden with wore that uniform. I ran into bad seeds too, that happens in all walks of life. but ... "

"I've seen them bluebellies in action," Vin cut in, in a slow lethal tone, staring hard at Chris. "I spent half my life with the Kiowa's and Commache. Good people, honest people, only kin I ever had ... raised me up ... taught me ... cared fer me ... " Vin's voice wavered, his took a steadying breath and turned away, letting his eyes roam on the faces of the men he now called brothers. Then they glazed over, lost in another time and place." ... they come inta' camp, their eyes all crazy ... hootin' and hollerin' ... shootin' down the old ones and the little ones, er usin' clubs on 'em ... herdin' the women up and rapin' 'em and slittin' 'em open ... takin' scalps and worse ... " he seethed, both hands balled into fists, eyes full and hot. " ... burnin' em alive ... they're fuckin' animals is what they are!" He slammed his fists on the table hard, sending three shot glasses rolling to the floor. He felt their eyes on him in pity and that made him even madder. "Don't be lookin' at me like that! I don't want yer fuckin' pity!"

He laughed then, shaking his weary, aching head, "Oh and lets not ferget them fine, Christian soldiers what donated blankets and grain and such. Blankets that was taken from the next town, loaded with cholera. Grain and flour that was spoiled ... " He held the tears back, still hearing their words. "I heard 'em ... I's tied up on m'belly. Three of 'em held me down, the other cut m'hair off ... " he snorted in contempt, " ... gonna make fuckin' Christian outta me, hah ... " he flinched, recalling the incident. " ... they was jokin' about it, said ... 'it's cheaper t'kill 'em then keep 'em. So y'ell hafta excuse me if them fuckin' shiny buttons and boots don't get m'heart t'flutterin'." He paused, his voice cracked then, despite his best efforts to hide the pain. "They was laughin' and kickin' the corpses ... it was m'family ... " He voice cracked and he shook his head. He wrapped his trembling arms around his chest, the ache building. He turned away, brushing his hot eyes and breathing hard. There was a long, pregnant moment, before Chris's hand came to rest on this shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Vin."

"Yeah, I'm sorry too ... " his mangled lip curled up, " ... sorry I didn't blow him the fuck up when I had the chance." He saw Chris's eyes widen a bit, "Oh, ya didn't know ... ya see me and General fuckin' Bluebelly go way back ... " he laughed and shook his curly head, "'course, ya can't blame him fer not recognizin' me ... seein's I was forty to fifty pounds thinner, bald as a hard-boilt egg and sicker than any livin' thing should be. I's curled up in a rat hole of a fuckin' Yankee prison ... waitin' t'die. I made the mistake o'askin fer water and some bandages fer a friend ... I damn near got beat t'death fer it ... yer friend with the dancing gold fringe gave the order!"

"He's not my ... " Chris blew out a hot air of frustration, this was worse than he thought. Vin was out of control.

"I'm sorry Vin!" J.D. blurted, his stomach recoiling in horror. "Why would they do that? That's not right ... "

"Sometimes J.D.," Nate said quietly, resting his weary brown eyes on their youngest, still green at times. " ... just sometimes, yuh awful young ... "

"Thanks Kid ... " Vin managed, feeling the youth's empathy.

"It was war, Son, things were different. Vin ... he was the ... on the other side." Josiah's deep voice added.

"But he ... they ... were sick ... hurt ... I don't ... "

"Leave it alone, J.D.," Buck interceded, watching Vin struggle hard with his emotions. He gave the youthful sheriff a look of understanding. He'd explain it later, he didn't want to upset Vin any further.

"You don't have to do this. I'll tell Orrin you're out." Chris's voice was soft and a little fuller than he intended. He moved next to the irate, flexing muscles of the tracker and stood by him. Vin understood immediately and took several deep breaths. Then the troubled blue eyes lifted and the green ones drilled them. He wanted to take that pain away, right all the wrongs and he needed his best friend to know that.

Vin sighed, letting a hot air of contempt leave his lungs after too many years. He saw so much in the intense green gaze, it nearly took what air he had left. It hurt, to remember, but somehow, now that he'd left it out, it felt better. Almost like when Nathan took the abcess out of a wound, taking the yellow, putrid mess away. He wondered if this man in black knew just how special he was; how much it meant have him by his side. He wiped his eyes and turned back, locking forearms with this man who was his brother. Their eyes locked again, sending a silent message of trust and gratitude. Vin nodded slowly, before gazing at the others. "Yer goin'?" He waited, watching every head nod, his heart sank and he was disappointed, it was etched in his face. But he'd stand by them, no questions asked. "I'll see ya in Yuma at the train," He directed to Ezra and Buck. He dropped his head and felt both of Larabee's hands on his shoulders. That small squeeze sent a ripple through his soul, taking some of the fire from the agony there. He sighed, licked his swollen lips and took his head up. If the plan worked, he'd wouldn't see his best friend again for several days, not until they met in San Diego. That was where all three transports were headed. If the plan didn't work ...

"Watch yer back, Cowboy!" he rasped, locking hands, hopefully, not for the last time.

"Always do," Chris said quietly, with a nod of confidence. He watched the younger man leave, his gaze fixed on the door, long after the batwings stopped moving.

"Sometimes, the depths of that man's soul leaves me speechless," Ezra broked the silence. "How much is one man meant to bear?"

"God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there shall be no more death; neither sorrow, nor crying. Neither shall there be any more pain, for the former things are passed away." Sanchez lifted his coffee as the words from Revelation 21:4 settled among them.

"Let's hope so," Buck sighed, aching for Vin and wondering how the slim young man's shoulders bore such weight with such grace. "We best eat up, we're gonna be leavin' early in the morning."

On the Road to Yuma, Near the Colorado River.

Normally, a black sky graced with a scattering of bright stars was his best blanket. A warm fire, a semi-decent bedroll, memories from the past to keep him company, that was more than enough. He'd chosen to ride alone to Yuma, he needed time to think. He camped outside town, ate a small dinner and sank into a stretch of weary cotton. Despite his exhaustion, sleep eluded him. He'd tossed and turned, trying to swim past the confusion. The dreams came vividly, first of his happy childhood and youth, next the massacre and the dark days, then his brief stint wearing Confederate gray, the torturous time in prison ... faded into a scene of a brilliant meadow near a snapping river. Laughter cascaded down the banks, his friends were there, Chris and Buck lounging by a tree, J.D. and Josiah near the water, Ezra and Nathan playing cards . He ached to join them, it felt right ... then he saw the spirits of his family. They were unhappy, hovering on the other side of the river. His grandmother pointed to circle of friends. He heard her words ... they couldn't rest because his soul was marred. He needed to cleanse ... his soul ... he watched the river rushing by and inhaled. The cool, refreshing water ran right through him ... he awoke near dawn and made his decision.

Back in Town:

They were gathered and waiting, by the edge of town. Orrin and the General were still inside the hotel. The other five waited, each quietly contemplating the days ahead. Buck frowned when the dark-haired youth next to him, kept twisting in the saddle, scanning the streets.

"You expectin' company, J.D.?"

"Nah ... just ... well ... doesn't seem the same without Vin ... you know?"

"Yeah," the older man nodded, "But he needs some time to clear his head. If this plan is gonna work, we need him thinking straight."

"Where's Chris?" the sheriff frowned.

"We need him thinking straight too," Buck sighed, knowing the man in black was deeply concerned and hurting for his best friend. "Speak of the devil ... "

The black horse came down the street slowly, no feature was visible beneath the flat brimmed black hat. The poncho hid the slight slump of the shoulders. A thin trace of smoke curled up from the cheroot beneath the shadow. He gave a slight nod to his men, before settling in the lead. The army was at the opposite end of the street, waiting for their orders.

"Well, Judge, it appears as if we're all here." Major Thomas Kelly exited the hotel, with the General and the Judge on his heels.

"Someone is missing," The General huffed, " ... it's that ruffian ... "

"He's got a name!" J.D. blurted in defensive anger, still hearing Vin's words the night before. "It's Tanner, you see you remember that!" Buck's arm on his sleeve halted any more words. But J.D. saw the smile of pride and the wink in the rogue's eye.

"I can't say as I'm surprised he bolted, it was obvious he showed no respect for the uniform." The General paused, eyeing a young man with a bright red coat who appeared to be choking.

"Respect? You got a lotta ... " J.D. started, but Buck's arm and Ezra's loud coughing stopped him.

"Something caught in my throat," Ezra managed, hiding his contempt, "My pardon."

"He didn't run!" J.D. said loudly, not hiding his temper. "You don't him, you shouldn't be talking about him like that. He'll be on your damn train."

"You listen to me boy ... ."

The General's words were cut off, when he found a wall of tension wearing black next to him. The eyes were clear and hot, an icy shade of grit. The lips barely moved, but the words came out like pinpointed bullets.

"He's no boy, his name is John Daniel Dunne, he's one of my men. He's also the sheriff of this town." Chris stated cooly, leveling a lethal stare, "as for Vin Tanner, you'd best choose your words carefully. He gave his word ... he'll be there."

"His word?" The other man scoffed, " ... what would his kind know of honor ... "

"Uh-Oh," Nathan shook his head, watching the deadly snake inside Chris Larabee's gut uncoil with a slow, steady course.

"Jesus, we ain't even out of town yet," Buck muttered, watching his oldest friend use every ounce of strength to remain in the saddle.

"His kind?" Chris's lips curled up in disgust. "All your golden braids and medals couldn't come close to touching 'his kind'. You see, he's got a moral fiber in him that sets him apart. Funny thing about Vin, he bleeds loyalty and honor. It comes from here ... " he shoved a black glove in the blue gut across from him. "it's called integrity and I've never seen it exhibited better. 'His kind' rides taller than any man I've know. The sheriff," he jerked his head towards the beaming J.D., "was right, you don't know a Goddamn thing about him. You don't have that right."

For several minutes, tension rode the air, nearly shooting blue sparks of fury. But then Orrin moved forward and eyed both men. "I can vouch for Mister Tanner, General Reinhardt, he's a fine young man. If he gave his word, he'll be there. We have a long, hot journey, Gentlemen, I'd suggest we get started."

"Kid," Chris jerked his head, waiting for the youth to follow. They'd ride with the army into Yuma Territory. He turned, looking hard at each of his men and gave a slight nod. "Yuma," he imparted of their meeting place the next day.

Nathan, Josiah, Buck, Ezra , the Judge and the two Colonels were taking a different route. Well hidden in the shadows, Brad Garrett caught his commander's wink and nodded. They'd meet later. He eyed the leader of the magnifico's and smiled. It would be a pleasure to put him away. Anybody who claimed kinship to that dog Tanner, needed a beating too.

Burnt Mills wasn't much of a town, basically it was a train stopover. It had a saloon, hotel, a few restaurants, just enough to keep the travellers happy for overnight stops. The growth of the military camps throughout Arizona had spurned a boom of business. A half dozen Forts were in close proximity in southern Arizona alone. The amount of supplies required by the army and the other businessman, railroaders and drovers coming through, created the need for expanding commerce. Mining was becoming more organized as an industry, pushing the solo toiling, scrappy bearded miners into the realms of history. This is how the tiny mecca of Burnt Mills had grown.

The army was camped outside town, mapping out the best route between the stage and rail lines. By patrolling the perimeter, they had access to the 'devil's highway' and hoped to stem any invasion of bandits. Chris met with General Reinhardt and Orrin Travis to review the maps and go over the timetables. The stage would leave Burnt Mills at six a.m., the train would pull out at noon. The routes ran parallel, with water stops at even intervals. The patrol route the army would be using would intersect both transport roads. They'd be leaving at dawn as well.

"We're gonna head to town, we'll be back tonight." Chris addressed Orrin Travis, who gave his consent.

By the time they got to town, it was after four p.m. and they were weary of the long day riding in the sun. Thirsty and hungry, they sought the saloon and more important, a brief reunion with their friends. Chris hoped somehow, he'd have caught up to Vin. He'd scanned the horizon all day and moreover, on the way into town. No trace of the tracker had been found.

"There they are," J.D.'s voice bespoke the bone-weariness his body was aching with. Hot and tired, he entered the saloon and flopped down next to Josiah. He yawned and rested his head on the table, over his crossed arms.

"Hard day at the coal mines, Son?" The preacher teased, signaling the waitress for two more beers. He grinned at the moan from under the damp mop of dark hair and ruffled them. He noticed the grim set of Chris's jaw. He watched the green eyes scanning the very crowded, loud and smokey tavern. One black-clothed boot rested on a brass spitoon, the lean body rested against a post.

"He'll show," Buck tried to take the worry from the green eyes. He saw a waitress appear with a large plate and place it in front of the gambler.

"Where the hell did you get oysters?" Josiah leaned forward, watching the conman tuck a napkin into his shirt and take a shucker from the table.

"The arrive daily from the coast, via the iron horse," he noted of the train. "They are quite the aphrodisiac."

"Well now, Buck that ought to make you smile. You two being travel companions and all." J.D. grinned, pulling his body back into a sitting position.

"Cute Kid," Buck placated, tossing a roll at the youth. "All the oysters in the world wouldn't put that gold-toothed Wilmington wannabee in my class."

"Harrummph!" Ezra snorted, cracking open a shell.

Chris's eyes continued to scan the crowd, uaware he was being watched. One of the benefits of wearing varying shades of tan, was that you 'blended in'. From the far corner of the room, tucked away in a tight spot near the side door, Vin Tanner watched his circle of friends. He left his blue eyes study the pensive leader's face and felt a tug of satisfication. When was the last time someone cared so much? He drained his shot of whiskey and shoved off the wall, slipping silently through the crowd.

"Show ya a goodtime cowboy?" Vin dropped his voice and the slow drawl in the blond's ear caused his body to jerk and sent the spitoon sailing. It caused a round of genuine smiles in the group, save the leader, who scowled and formed his mouth in a straight line.

"Vin!" J.D. smiled, "How'd you do that? Where'd you come from?"

"The man could give lessons to a shadow." Nathan shook his head, then studied the tracker's shadowed face and frowned. There were circles under the tired blue eyes and he looked exhausted. "Yuh okay?"

"Jes' tired, Nate, was wrestlin' with m'self all night ... "

"Here, sit down, Brother," Josiah offered to stand, giving the weary man his chair. "We were just about to eat."

"No thanks, Preacher, I got me a nice spot outside town, near the river. Real peaceful like ... be a real nice spot fer supper. S'plenty o'room ... " He turned to Chris then, opening his eyes and showing his wounded soul his brother.

Chris read the need as soon as he saw the haunted, hollowed eyes. He needed to talk to Vin too, especially since they were riding into a potential firestorm. He caught the gaze, nodded and curled his lips upwards.

"Sounds good to me," J.D. decided, standing up, "Anyhow, it way too crowded in here ... " He watched as the slim Texan moved slightly, wrinkling his face in disgust, just behind Ezra's back.

" ... sides," Vin announced " ... beats the hell outta watchin' Ezra suckin' up a pile o'snots ... "

"Thank you!" Standish coughed, gagged, choked and dropped his tool. The laughter echoed around him and his face turned red.

"You okay there, Ace?" Buck pounded his back, then backed up, when the red-coated shoulders hunched up. "Aw, hell, he's gonna upchuck ... " he feared of the potential vomit to come. But instead, an ivory pearl appeared off his tongue and into his palm.

"How'd ya do that!" Vin demanded, amazed. "Ya learn that trick from yer Ma? Hit 'im again, Buck, make some more pop out!"

"It's not a trick!" Ezra wiped the pearl clean, "It came from it's bed ... "

"It's bed?" the sharpshooter scowled, "What bed?" Then his blue eyes widened in shock and he smacked the gambler's back. "Ya stole that from a girl? Ya got a hotbed already? Hell, ya ain't been in town that long."

"I beg your pardon!" Standish's indignant voice rose above the laughter at the table. He noted Chris Larabee now wore a soft smile. "I most certainly did not steal this from a pros ... working ... a ... lady of the night."

"Well whose bed did ya pluck it from? Ain't yer cheatin' cards enough?" Vin egged, eyeing the luster on the bead.

"I don't cheat!" He puffed, "It's created from sand and other parasites that irritate the meat inside. Through the release of certain substances within the shell. It turns the irritation into a rainbow like sheen to form, over the course of a year of so, the pearl continues to grow."

"Yer full o'shit Ezra!" Vin declared, " ... they come from a jewelry store ... from necklaces and such ... " He stopped when he saw Josiah and Chris smirking. "Don't they?" He saw Chris shake his head and his blues eyes narrowed. " ... that shit he's spoutin' is right?" The blond head dipped once and the Texan cocked his own. "Damn!"

"Why must you confirm your suspicions through him?" Ezra's voice rose, "Isn't my word as a gentlemen good enough?" That statement only caused more laughter.

"Son," Josiah gave the scarlet shoulder a tug, "You best quit while you're ahead."

"I can't breathe," Vin announced, "I'll ride out ahead, a mile east of town on the river ... can't miss it." He picked up Buck's beer and lifted it to his parched lips.

"Help yourself Vin. Hell it wasn't like I was planning on drinking that," the womanizer's voice was playfully sarcastic.

" ... ya bring some grub ... " he belched after draining the beer and wiping his mouth on Ezra's napkin. " ... ya bring that fancy shit from Kentucky ya got hid in yer bag ... "

"How did you ... " Ezra shook his head, " ... nevermind."

"We're bringing the food and drink," Chris pursed his lips, eyeing the relief pouring from the blue eyes. Whatever kept his friend up all night required them to meet, in private, near a river over a campfire. Seeing that release was worth the trip. "So what are you bringing to the party, Tanner?"

Vin paused by the door and held up his harmonica, which grew a round of groans.

"And after we get locked up for disturbing the peace?" Chris barbed of the tracker's lack of talent on the mouth harp. He saw the younger man's face soften and the eyes crinkle as a smile was born.

"M'boyish charm!"

That smile coupled with a single brow arched over those tired blue eyes gave Chris Larabee's muscles their first release since the night before. He kept that look after the tracker rode off.

"That," Buck noted to J.D. who now stood next to him, as they watched the leader, unaware he was being viewed. A half smile on his lips matched the light from his green eyes. " ... is the gift of Vin."

Part Two

Every sunset was a gift, as was the rebirth the next morn. He stood in muted awe, watching the brilliant colors slash the skyline as the sun bade a lazy farewell. The wind lifted his hair, sending it back from his shoulders. He let his lids drop and inhaled, letting the whispering water tickle his ears. He heard them in the distance, in a place inside that he visited often. He recalled the summers of his boyhood and youth, following his adopted fathers and uncles in the woods. Evenings by his grandmother's side as she told him of the spirits and their gifts. A loud whoop caused his shoulders to jerk and he saw Buck sliding off his big gray. The rogue winked at him and untied a large burlap sack. The others followed, quickly making themselves to home in the camp. He remained by the water, gazing at the horizon and wondering about the days to come. He knew Chris was behind him, he could always sense the other's movements.

"You look better," the blond observed carefully, "your eyes aren't as haunted."

"Wasn't the right way t'purge," he noted his outburst the night before, " ... but I reckon it was time."

"You're a survivor, Vin, it's sometime a man either has or he doesn't. It can't be learned from any book. I don't know many men who have guts like that ... I know I didn't."

"Hell," Vin spat into the creek and shook his curly head, then cast a half smile at his best friend, "Them black rags ya tote on yer back fool some folks ... not this tracker. Ya care Chris Larabee, from the glint in ye eye right through t'yer soul, ya care alot." He turned away then, watching an eagle in the distance. "Ya ever look at an eagle, Chris, I mean really study 'em?" His voice grew wistful then, full of awe and wonder. "With grace and strength ya ride the wind, proud feathered majesty with noble eyes protectin' yer earth ... "

Chris's breath caught as Vin's soft words took flight. They soared high, circling the eagle and danced on the wind. The golden rays of the setting sun basked the Texan in a pure light. His face was relaxed, allowing a rare glimpse of the youth he was. He didn't spoil the moment with words, he always felt privileged when Vin shared his poetry. Honored was the better word, since he knew Vin's airborne soul thoughts were known but to the two of them. While the blue eyes never left the eagle, the gifted lips opened again.

"We was raised t'honor all livin' things, 'specially the eagle. They spread them wings out and circle, makin' ya feel protected. That's what chased me t'town ... ya know, before that gang tried t'lynch Nate." He paused, shifting his weight and turned to face Chris Larabee. "I ain't never spoke o'this ... I had a vision ... in the desert. I seen an eagle ... a special eagle ... never left me. I was sick, fevered, tired o'ridin' alone. Hell, jes' plain wore out from life. But that damn eagle, stuck with me ... led me t'town. When I looked up over that broom on the sidewalk that day, I understood. Ya see, we was taught that when the eagle comes, ya know someone cares about ya ... s'watchin' over ya. That was the first time I felt that." he paused and left out a long shuddering breath. " ... since I lost m'family ... ya give me that Chris Larabee ... yer m'eagle." There, it was finally out and he ducked his head, unsure of what the other man's reaction would be. Then he felt a hand grip the back of his neck hard and a sharp intake of Larabee air. He peeked up in time to see a brief glint of awed moisture in the green eyes. He left out his pent up air and a nervous chuckle.

"Just my fuckin' luck, I hitched my wagon to a shooting star." Chris said softly, "It's not bad enough that you can track ant piss in a snow storm and shoot the wings off a fly at a thousand feet." He took a deep breath and gripped the tracker's neck harder, "No, I gotta cross paths with a sorry-assed, cussin' Texan whose gentle spirit healed this broken soul."

The moment of shining kinship was shattered by a booming Wilmington voice.

"Hey! You two gonna yack all night? We got a feast to get too!"

They both laughed and clasped forearms briefly, each absorbing the inner light of the other. Then they climbed the hill and rejoined the circle. The food was good, the ale was strong and the laughter a healing touch. Vin sat slightly apart from his brothers, watching the firelight dance off their features. So absorbed was he in embracing their spirit, he neglected his plate.

"Something wrong with my cooking, Brother?"

"No, 'siah," Vin stood, handing his half-empty plate to the preacher. "I got somethin' eatin' away inside ... clawin' t'get out." He rubbed the back of his neck and took the bottle that was being passed around. After a long swig of courage, he waited and then noticed the six grew silent. Each pair of eyes locked onto him. He shifted and struggled, trying to find the right words. He felt Chris's eyes on him, the slight nod from the blond was all he needed.

"I wanted ... I jes' figgered ... I needed ... "

"I told you we should have brought some Redeye," Buck teased, winking at the struggling Texan, "that fancy shit of Ezra's got Vin's tongue all tied in knots."

That broke the tension and he laughed, letting out his anxiety. "I'm sorry," he said with a tone so sincere it caused Nathan to wince. " ... last night ... I was all worked up ... spoutin' and shoutin' at ya ... I been holdin' that inside s'long ... until I rode with y'all ... I didn't have no one t'open up ta ... someone that needed t'hear ... only kin I had was long buried."

"Vin, you don't owe us an apology," Josiah's hand rested on the dusty red shirt.

"Man don't share his burdens, he'll end up a cripple," Nathan Jackson offered through kind brown eyes. "

"You gotta know how to take a hand as well as give one." Buck nodded and gave the smaller man a winning smile.

"That's what friends are for Vin, to help each other when your hurt." J.D. offered.

"Your wounds ran too deep and were long in need of purging. Suffice to say, we were glad to oblige. Or is there more that festers?" Ezra guessed and saw the dark head bobbing.

"Best ya get settled in ... this might take a while ... I ain't used t' ... could come out wrong ... "

"Aw, hell," Buck mocked, "I had my eye on a pretty red-headed filly in town. Had my eye on a blonde too. Time you get all them words of yours in a row and out ... be time for breakfast."

"Shut the hell up, Bucklin!" Vin chastised, chasing it with a genuine laugh.

So they settled back and patiently listened, eyes riveted and hearts breaking for their young friend, as he spoke of the painful episodes. From a thirteen year old boy who was forced to witness his family's massacre and left his heart in the smoldering cinders, to the rebel who a year later, ran away, put on a gray coat and picked up a rifle.

"There was a pain inside, rippin' m'gut ... I kept seein' their faces, the blood, the bodies ripped open ... ya never lose that smell ... o'bodies bein' burnt ... " Vin dry eyes threatened to spill. He took the bottle from Ezra and with another gulp of courage, he continued, "All I knew ... was bluebellies slaughtered m'kin ... and when I seen the graycoats shootin at 'em ... it wasn't hard t'choose sides. Didn't take long 'fore some one o'the head Rebs figured out about m'shootin'. Next thing I knowed, I'm in some special group o'snipers."

"The Dark Angels," Chris recalled of the handpicked elite Confederate snipers, "You were good ... nobody ever saw you come or go."

" ... winter o'sixty four..cold as hell ... fightin' a storm in Virginia somewheres. Full of dynsentary, fevered, trudgin' through snow ... " he sighed, " ... I woke up in a prison ... with a bucket full of hot Yankee piss in m'face fer a 'welcome t'Hell Reb'. Then I was on m'belly again ... bein' held down and gettin' m'head shaved."

"How long were you a prisoner Vin?" J.D. whispered, not able to comprehend how a teenage boy could withstand so much trauma.

"I dunno ... " Vin scratched his belly, wiggled his fingers for the bottle and looked into the fire. " ... was winter when I went in ... summertime when we busted out ... five 'er six months ... " the slim shoulders shrugged.

"How'd you get loose?" Nate asked, all too familiar with the savage treatment that the Rebs suffered as prisoners of war.

"Prison was only meant t'hold eighty men ... we was about two hundred 'er more by the end o'summer. They put the real sick ones in a bombed out church near the prison. Shoved us all in the celler ... dark, filthy, rats runnin' on yer face, chompin' on ya ... " He shuddered and blinked the memory away. "General fancy braids was the C.O, he come every week fer inspection. So when the guard's back was turned, I crawled outta m'hole and tugged on his pants. I wanted water, medicine and bandages fer the fellas. I told 'im we deserved t'be treated better than animals. He kicked me in the gut and ordered me whipped. I was shoved in a crate in the supply shack. No water ... nuthin' but m'own piss t'drink. Sun beatin' in ... Five days later, I woke up. I guess in m'thrashin' I poked a hole in the crate. I seen boxes of explosives ... so I decided I'd die ... leastwise, make them think so. My grandmother was the medicine woman, I learnt a lot from 'er. So I took that dynamite and hid it in m'drawers. I'd seen 'em load the corpses 'afore, they didn't want t'touch us. The damn doctor come once a week from town and was drunk half the time. He said I was dead and they wrapped me in a blanket, left me on the wagon with the other dead. That night, I was reborn ... I blowed up the guardhouse and took their guns. I busted in the prison and let 'em out. I took off fer the river and never looked back."

Exhausted from his long driven penance, the weary blue-eyed sharpshooter rose on unsteady legs and walked away. He stoked the fire, tossing in sticks and watching the cinders rise. He rubbed his taut belly, realizing that the hole inside was nearly gone. The pain, the dull ache that never left, gnawing relentlessly as his tender soul, was subsiding. That was what these fine men had done for him. They'd freed his bound soul. He felt them again, heard their words of comfort. A hand on his shoulder, a clap on the back, a few handshakes, a Sanchez embrace and Buck's large hand ruffling his hair, before gripping his jaw. One by one, they departed, stealing away into the night. Only one man remained, still sitting in the shadows, a cheroot ember the only sign of life. He picked up the bottle, nearly empty and made his way over. The lean man in black rose up, took the bottle and uncorked it. Vin saw Chris struggling with his own inner demon, which after a lusty sip, seemed ready to be born.

"I only served under him in sixty-two, Vin, I haven't seen him since."

"Aw, hell," Vin's voice was rocked with emotion, "Jesus, Chris, is that what ya thought? That I had ya hooked up with that bastard then? Yer Chris Larabee ... ya shouldda knowed better. I did. I never once thought ... it didn't matter none that ya wore blue ... I'm sorry, Cowboy, I didn't mean fer ya t'think I was accusin' ya ... blamin' ... Yer real Chris ... in here ... " he tapped the dark shirt. " ... where it counts ... no matter what color ya wore. I'm sorry ... I didn't t'hurt ya."

"You say the word 'sorry' again, Tanner and I'll make you sorry." He released with a half grin, locking forearms as they walked to the horses. "I'd rather stay," he offered, "but me and the Kid are due back in camp."

"S'okay ... " Vin nodded, watching him mount the black horse with a natural ease, "Ya watch yer back, Larabee ... "

" ... thought that was your job, Tanner!" Chris left with a grin, easing the horse into a full gallop.

He slept well that night, with a peace inside he'd thought lost long ago. Armed with the strength of his six brothers and with the spirits of his family guarding him, he eased into a deep sleep. The fine features relaxed in slumber, the chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, unaware in twenty-four hours he'd be bathed in his own blood.

J.D. was slightly ahead of Chris Larabee, as they rode back to the military base. Like Chris, he'd enjoyed the impromptu dinner with their friends. He felt secure there, a vital part of something much larger than himself. He knew that the train was more likely to be hit than the stagecoach, for that reason, he was worried. Although Vin seemed to have nine lives, Ezra had conned himself out of more closecalls than could be counted and Buck was a seasoned veteran of many battles, he had a bad feeling. He cast his hazel eyes at the moon, and wondered what the new day would bring for each of them.

Chris's meeting with the General, Orrin and the staff didn't last long. They went over their plan, the terrain they'd cover and the most likely places in Mexico that the gang could retreat to, if they slipped through. Camino Del Diablo was friend to no man, and to survive the trek, the gang would have to be well prepared. He slipped outside the tent, lit a cheroot and studied the dark sky. J.D.'s lack of chatter prompted him to make their camp on the edge of the perimeter. He wanted to speak to the youth in private. He saw the top of the youth's bowler hat bobbing on the far southeast corner. A fire crackled a short distance from the small tent they'd share. He saw the young man disappear in the tent, and started over.

"Mister Larabee?"

"General," Chris nodded, hand resting easily on a single pearl handed revolver that hugged his slim hip.

"I wanted to apologize for my comments in town this morning. I had no idea you and this Tanner were closely tied."

Chris remained silent, wondering about Vin's comments. From what he knew of the General, he was a good soldier, a better than average strategist, someone who General Grant relied on heavily during the war. What happened to that man? Was he the same villian who Vin painted a dark picture of?

"You remained enlisted for the duration?" Reinhardt prompted, recalling the student he trained who showed promise of brilliance in West Point. Their early days in the war only strengthened that glint of natural leadership. One like Larabee was worth a dozen others.

"I did, by early sixty-four I had my own unit."

"Why did you leave, after the war ended?"

"It was time, I had a new bride and baby to get home to." Chris turned to face the man and study his eyes. The eyes never lied. "What about you, Sir? Where were you at the war's end?"

"Nelson's Bluff," he sighed, hearing the sharp intake of breath next to him. "You've heard of it?"

"Who hasn't? " Chris shuddered of the hellhole, seeing a mental picture of a starving, blue-eyed warrior in the jaws of that beast. How the hell did Vin survive? "It was the one of the worst ... Why you?"

"The lack of discipline. Too many of the prisoners were getting out of hand. The guards were spread too thin, with little incentive and force to deal with those animals."

"They were men, not animals. Just because they wore gray doesn't change that."

"A sympathizer?" Reinhardt was more than a little surprised in the venomous tone.

"A supporter of human rights, I guess you'd say that makes me weak, being decent and all ... " the blond sneered in contempt.

Ignoring the comment, the General continued, "It was a harsh place, cold and isolated on a pennisula where the river met the bay. Each prisoner was given a blanket and a tin mug, that's all. The converted barracks became overcrowded, those 'men' as you called them, were worse than rabid rats. They fought over them, you know, it became quite the sport. They'd scramble about, catching and skinning them, eating them. You cannot reason with the likes of that. You keep them caged."

"Caged?" Chris had to clench both fists at his sides, "Some of them were boys ... starving, hurt, sick. How the hell did you expect them to react? You treated them like animals! Why weren't they fed properly? Given medical attention?"

"From where? The little resources we did get had to be spread among our own first."

"Our own?" Chris turned sharply, "We're all Americans. You didn't have that right! They were sick, asking for help. There were rules you should have followed ... "

"They're the enemy!"

"You mean 'were' don't you?" Chris said critically of the present tense usage. "So when they asked for help ... bandages ... medicine ... decent food ... "

"They were given hardtack and a half mug of coffee for breakfast, beans for lunch and a small portion of salt pork with hardtack and coffee for dinner. It's all there was ... I had orders."

"You also had resources in that area. Farms, water, fishing ... You could have done more."

"It was a prison, not a hotel! They got what they deserved."

"Whipped and beaten like dogs?" Chris's lip turned up in disgust and he felt his dinner churning. A mental image of a brave, fourteen-year old Rebel with hungry blue eyes, chained and whipped cut through him like a knife.

"Sometimes, yes, if they asked for it. You set an example with one, the rest stay in line. I did what was necessary!"

Too disgusted to remain in the presence of the other, Chris strode away. Vin, whose gentle spirit would takes years to understand, whose selfless, generous heart was something to be in awe of, in the hands of that beast ... it was too hard to stomach. It only reinforced his respect for his best friend.

"Chris?" J.D. saw set of firm chin and hate rays beaming from the green eyes. "Something wrong?"

"No," He sighed, taking several breaths to regain control. It was years ago, Vin did survive and he needed a cool head to see that he continued to survive. Two thick bedrolls were on the ground. The tent kept the wind whipping outside from gaining too much entry. Chris sat down sideways, drawing his knees up and reaching in his saddle bag. He uncorked the whiskey bottle with his teeth and took a long draw. He saw the question in the youth's eyes, which were mirrors at times. "Got something on your mind, Kid?"

He smiled then, slightly, when the word settled on his mind. When others used the word, he bristled, got angry and defiant. When Chris used it, he felt proud of the warm feeling it brought in his gut. He wanted so much to learn from this man, to be like him. He took a deep breath, denied the bottle offered and spoke.

"How do you know, Chris? If you ... you ... got a feeling about something and ... you got orders to do different?"

"Come again?"

"Well, what if ... like ... in that massacre Vin told us about ... where his family ... " He bit off the rest and turned to the leader. " ... well, what if you were new ... and ... you didn't know that the c.o. was going to do that ... that ... those awful things. If ... he gave an order ... but ... you didn't ... couldn't follow it ... how do you what the right thing is?"

Chris took a long moment to reflect, seeing J.D. struggle hard. Some days, the boy was much younger than others, his inexperience all too evident. Other times, his instincts were razor sharp and that valiant spirit shone through like the noonday sun. He was so young and had so much promise.

"I think, most men, most good men, would stand up for what's right," He said slowly. "I remember one time in a town not far from here a large group of men were riding out. They had an innocent men tied up ... were thinking on lynching him. One man, one young man, took a rifle and made a stand in the street. It didn't matter to him that he was vastly outnumbered, it didn't matter that they outgunned him. What mattered was in his gut, he knew the right thing to do. To stand up for what's true. To champion for the innocent and helpless. That young man didn't see how many guns were staring back at him. He only saw an injustice and tried to change it ... make it right. That's what courage does for you."

J.D. looked up then, his mind whirling backwards in time. "Vin ... you mean when Vin took Virgil's rifle and stood up for Nate against the lynch mob?"

Chris smiled slowly, taking a short draw on the bottle and shook his head. "Vin did just that, but I was taking about another special young man, with courage. This time, it was Vin tied up, being taken to Texas. A certain sheriff with a funny hat took a rifle and made a stand in the middle of the street. If I recall correctly, he said, with fire in his eye, "That's Vin Tanner!" He gave the youth a proud grin then, "I was proud of you that day, J.D. you'll never know how much. Therein," he tapped the chest of dusty tan shirt the youth wore, "lies the difference, John Daniel Dunne, from your heart. You have it, Son, it's not something you read in a book, you're born with it."

"But that's different," J.D. blushed, still reeling from Chris's lauds, "It was Vin."

"What if it wasn't?" Chris challenged, "What if you knew that man was innocent? Would you still have stood up for him?"

"I guess," J.D. nodded, thought a moment then nodded again."I'd have to. I couldn't ... wouldn't ... let an innocent man die."

"No, you wouldn't," Larabee winked, "Someday, them Rangers in Texas are gonna get damn lucky to have a man named Dunne wearing that star. They'll ride proud beside him, I know I do."

"Thanks Chris!" J.D. gushed, heat rising quickly to his face. He laughed then, "What will Buck do without me to pick on?"

"If he gets out of bed long enough to notice you're gone," the blond teased, setting the bottle on the floor between his booted feet.

"Hah!" the youth tossed his shiny dark hair, "Half the time he's trying to make a point, teach me something, it ends up with, 'One day Kid, you'll understand'. Then I get that sympathetic pat on the back." Dunne ducked his head, "I'm not ... green ... well ... not as green ... there ... with ... women ... I'm not ... as green as you guys ... think I am." he stammered awkwardly.

Chris's brows drew together in perplexion. He paused, frowned, then a slow smiled formed. It was one born of remembrances of a night nearly twenty years gone by. In a dark corner of a barn, when he wore a younger man's clothes. It was a rite of passage all men went through only once. He chuckled, took his hat off and then laughed. It was a long, deep bout of gutfilling laughter, that shot right out of his eyes.

"What's so funny!" J.D. demanded, hearing the unusual sound of a deep belly laugh from the other. "I might not be as smooth as Buck, sweet talk as good as Ezra and blush and 'Ma'am' like Vin but ... "

"You are!" Chris shook his head, wiped the tears from his eyes and laughed again. "Katie Dunne's baby boy stumbling his way through manhood." He slapped J.D.'s knee and handed the bottle over. "It's a rite of passage, Kid, it only happens once and nobody is that smooth the first few times. As far as Buck, if he ever gives you a hard way to go about that, you just mention the 'Louisville Incident', he'll shut right up."

"Why? What's the Louisville Incident? Kentucky ... during the war? Come on, Chris, toss me a bone, will you? I gotta know!"

"Sorry Kid, that's something you're almost virgin ears aren't ready for yet." He hunched forward, draping his arms over his knees. "For me, it was Alice Mae Winterspoon ... four blurry moments that will live in infamy."

"What did she look like?" J.D. asked, handing the bottle back.

"Average ... " he shrugged, "She was a little on the plump side, reddish blond hair. She was staying with her daughter ... "

"Her daughter!" J.D's eyes nearly popped out. "She was a married woman! Damn you get all the luck!"

Chris laughed again and shook his head, "She was a widow, J.D., from out of town, visiting a neighbor. I was sixteen, helping the Ames folks fix the barn. It was late, I was alone, or so I thought and it was hot. I was sweaty and barechested, stipped down to my drawers. One minute I was bent over the workbench, then next thing I knew I was flat on my back in the hay. Like I said, four blurriest moments in my life. She came, she saw and she conquered ... and when she left, I still didn't know what the hell happened. Only that it was goooood and I wanted more ... " he laughed again, "I never appreciated the fact my folks lived by a river more that I did that night ... a cold river!" Chris laughed again and the youth joined in, giving them both a relaxation that they needed. Chris stretched out on the blanket, covered his face with his hat and tried to sleep. It was quiet for awhile, then a voice broke the stilled night air.

"Next time, I think I should be in charge. I think I should know what to do ... what moves to make ... where my hands should be ... the teeth and the tongue stuff ... how much is enough ... "

"Goodnight Casanova!" Chris chuckled, shaking his head in denial. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

6 a.m. Burnt Mills

Nathan was just swallowing a mouth full of hot cereal, when a hand rested on his shoulder.

"Ready to go, Brother?"

"Yeah," he gobbled the rest and took the three oatcakes that were on the plate. He wrapped them in a napkin for later. He followed the preacher across the street, to where the stagecoach was waiting. The driver was standing just to the left, inspecting the bags. The healer followed the smokey eyes of his friend up to the top of the carriage and back down to the packages.

"Hmmm ... "

"Every time yuh get t'hummin' like that and yuh eyes lite up, we get in trouble," Nathan Jackson warned.

"Mornin'," the graying peacekeeper ambled over to the busy driver. "You look like your job is cut out for you."

"Not really," Jake Greene replied, "Depends on the run. Somedays I got a lot of mail, I use the boot," he nodded to the large storage compartment on the end of the coach. "Most times, I fit it all upstairs. It depends on how much I got to stow."

"Oh, Give you a hand?" Josiah offered, winking at he perplexed healer. The driver got on top and Josiah loaded the bags up to him. He eyed his watch and watched a blond army sargeant approach with a large bag. He backed up, tipped his hat and returned to Nate's side.

"What was all that about?" the brown-eyed man inquired. In lieu of an answer, the preacher tapped his dusty coat and moved into the depot.

"You remember Orrin saying this was an inside job? Well that driver has to get his crew from the hotel. That gives us five minutes to make a change."

"Change?" Nate frowned, "What change?"

"The boot," He jerked his head. "has only two sacks of mail inside, plenty of room for that army bag, and there is one mail sack empty." He saw the confusion still. "If we switch and the carriage is hit ... "

"Oh, they go right to the spot where that blond guy tucked the bag, then we'll know he told somebody."

" ... one rat in the trap is better than none." He kept an eye on the carriage, which was tucked out of sight. Sure enough, the driver left and the blond army man did too. A pair of army men stood guard, but their backs were to the depot. They would be travelling on the stage with Josiah and Nate and knew them from the Major's update. "Follow my lead ... " He picked up a small sack of newspapers and put them inside his bag.

"Good Morning, Mister Sanchez," a young private nodded. "Mister Jackson ... "

"Mornin' Son," The preacher nodded, "Okay if I put my bag up there?"

"Sure, Sir," Nathan shook his head and followed. He stood behind the coach, Josiah handed the brown leather army bag down. He opened it, took out a white cotton sack with the payroll inside and tucked in into the empty mail sack in the boot. Then, he handed the empty army pouch back up top, where Josiah slid the newpapers inside. He nodded, indicating the weight was the same. He then place the pouch exactly where the blond army man had. His mission completed, he slid down and exited the depot.

Ten minutes later, they departed. One army man, acting as the shotgun guard, rode on top, next to the driver. Another rode inside with the two peacekeepers. As the carriage made it's way west, rumbling and jumping over every rock, the ex-Union medic rolled his brown eyes.

"Yuh gonna wear that shit-eatin' grin all the way t'Pepper Mills?" He asked of their midday stop. The smile widened, the eyes were tucked under the large hat. "Shut up, Josiah!" he chuckled, swatting the tall man's knee. "Lord, give me strength!" he grimaced at he felt the first jolt of several that would follow as the stage hit a rut in the road.

Thirty Minutes to Noon, Burnt Hills

She sat waiting, primed are ready to go. A locomotive with 15 freight and passenger cars sitting on the rails. In the center was the dining car, which separated the first class section from the coach section. Beyond that were several cars loaded with freight. A thin stream of smoke curled from the large stack on the locomotive.

He sat on the roof of the depot, his lean body relaxed and content. Hidden under the shadows of the large sign, the shade was cool and pleasant. The fine features on his handsome face were passive in the strong light of day. He watched the rail workers below, loading sacks of coffee, sugar, flour, grain and tobacco into the first freight car. Behind it, was a car already full of smoked ham, bacon and crates of peaches, apples and potatoes. The car behind that was full of machinery. Stoves, furniture, mining equipment and hardware were secured. Then the car the army selected at random, to haul the silver and a large cache of rifles. The morning sun kissed the stubble on his face softly, as she passed by. His slim hands were folded on his lean abdomen, which was full of rabbit and biscuits. Tucked away in his coat pocket, was a bag of chocolate drops and some peppermint candy. He heard a familiar voice below and rolled sideways, grinning as a profile appeared. The handsome man with he mustache was yawning and trying not to listen to the younger man beside him, who prattled away. He crept closer, grinning again as the rogue recounted his 'hot night'.

"Furthermore," Ezra continued, peering at Buck's half-mast eyes. "if you'd gotten to bed at a decent hour, your eyes would be able to open on their own and the horrid smell would not be clinging to your person."

"Jealous?" Buck croaked, wrinkling his nose, "Damn I'm thirsty today."

"An after effect of your over-extended amourous efforts last night?"

"You should have been there Ezra, it was a thing of beauty. There was Miss Colleen with a head full of red curls, a hot temper and a body to match and Miss Annette, who was dark and sultry and had a set of teeth you wouldn't believe!" he paused, tugging on his shirt collar. "Wanna see my battle scars?"

"No!" Ezra repulsed, trying not to grin.

"Lord what a night!" Buck continued with a contented sigh, "I woke up smothered in the two best set of breasts west of the Mississippi" A snort from above and a muffled laugh, drew both heads up, staring into the midday sun. "There now," he slapped the red coat of his partner, "Didn't I tell you that boy would be here. Tanner, get your scrawny ass down here!"

"Depends ... " Vin managed, peeking mischievously over the roof's edge. He saw Buck's broad grin and mirrored it easily.

"On what?" Buck hollered up, knowing all too well there was something hiding behind that Texan smile.

"On whether yer oats is all done bein' sowed ... " he cocked a single eyebrow over a twinkling blue eye, "I gotta protect m'boys, ya know."

"Good Lord, as if anyone would get that desperate!" Ezra huffed, eyeing a trio of comely young maidens who appeared. They were young and dressed in elegant, expensive attire. "While you two discuss Mister Tanner's shortcomings, I have an urgent matter to attend to."

"Huh?" Buck wheeled around, raking his eyes on the group. "Hot Damn! A blond, a brunette and a redhead! There's one leftover for you Ezra. You let me do all the talking. Being the good-hearted Christian that I am, I'll only take two of them, you can have that blond one with the gap in her teeth and the big nose."

"Aren't I the lucky one ... " Ezra grimaced, "Do you realize that offensive stench you carry is likely to attract swine, rather than women?"

"He's gotta point, Bucklin, ya stink rite good," Vin leaned over the roof, wrinkling his face, "M'delicate nose ain't used t'such a smell."

"Shit!" Buck sniffed, "I guess I am a little ripe." Turning upwards, he snarled at the twinkling sky eyes peering down at him, "You're wearin' a dead buffalo, Slick, that ain't exactly a rose garden."

"The bath house is open and we do not depart for thirty minutes, I suggest you move quickly. I shall keep the young lovlies entertaining in your wake." Standish offered.

"You listen to me, Ace, don't you tell them some shit about me having a rash or using ointment or anything."

"Moi?"

"None other!"

"Great," Vin groaned, "Ridin' with the two busiest skirt-chasers in the territory. Gonna be a long fuckin' train ride." He reluctantly left his perch, ambling two rooves down to inspect the army. He studied them on the platform, carefully inspecting every face. The tall man with thinning brown hair he remembered as Colonel Dixon. He listened, as the leader gave the orders.

"Four of you will patrol the first class and coach sections, keep your eyes sharp. Anyone who looks or acts suspiciously, is to be detained. Four of you will be guarding the silver, two at the exit to the car, one outside the next car and one inside, on guard. I'm taking Cooper, Reilly, Jackson and Morgen with me. We'll ride ahead and keep the perimeter clear. We'll meet again at the water stop in four hours. Sargeant Miller is in charge, Gentlemen," he saluted, waited for the return and nodded to his assistant. "You get the horses ready, I'm meeting the three peacekeepers at the depot for an update in twenty minutes. I'll see you at the livery at noon."

Vin carefully climbed down, eyeing his two choices. Ezra was chatting with the three women, two of which were giggling. The high-pitched noise was enough to make his mind up. He turned towards the bathhouse, ambling inside and hiding a chuckle behind his hand. A slim young Oriental woman was scrubbing Buck's back. Water and suds glistened as they slide south, disappearing into the steaming water.

"Ahhh ... that's fine Darlin' ... old Buck might have to bring you back home ... a little lower ... " he sighed, leaning forward. " ... yeah ... that's the spot ... "

Vin grinned and moving silently across the room. She turned quietly and he smiled, nodded and pointed to the brush. He placed his index finger over his lips, asking for silence. She nodded and they made the exchange. As she departed, Vin continued the ministrations, barely suppresing his laughter. Then he moved swiftly, sending the bristled brush hard in Buck's crotch, well below the depth of the waterline.

"Ouch!" the body protesting, kneeling up and sputtering. The dark hair was already wet and suds ran down the now red face. "What the hell are you doing! Jesus that smarts ... " He rubbed his stinging groin.

"Jes' makin' sure yer boys are good and clean. What with all them teeth ya talked about ... "

"Goddammit Vin!" Buck grabbed the brush and sat back down. He tried hard not to chuckle, but there was something about Vin's laughter that was contagious. The tracker took his hide coat off and poured two mugs of cider. He handed one to Buck and sat on a small stool, several feet away.

"That Kernal feller is meetin' us at the depot in ten minutes ... ya best get movin'. He's takin' four with 'im and leavin' eight on the train. Four patrollin' the cars, two outside the silver car, one on the next and one inside, guardin' the safe. Some bald bluebelly named Miller is in charge."

"You okay?" Buck asked, toweling off and stepping towards his clean clothes. He saw the brief flicker of something he didn't like in the wide blue eyes. There then were the nimble hands. Normally, Vin tucked his hands in his belt. But when he was upset, they fluttered restlessly, fidgeting with his shirt buttons.

"I got a bad feelin' ... "

"Aw, shit!" the womanizer huffed, tugging his pants on and grabbing a dark blue shirt. "You leave them damn 'feelings' of yours here, will you? Everytime you get 'them feelings' somebody ends up at Nate's." He knew Vin's instincts were usually dead on. "We got eight soldiers, plus us ... we'll keep are eyes open ... watch the road. You ridin' shotgun?" He knew Tanner wouldn't like the confinement of the closed car. He envisioned the lean young man to be perched at the seat outside the last car, near the railing. He took his brush out of his toiletry bag and combed his damp hair back, as the smaller man shifted.

"Yeah," Vin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It ain't the road outside I'm worried about."

"You keep them baby blues on the tracks," Buck tugged his boots on, put his vest on and strapped his holster on. He moved next to the troubled sharpshooter and ruffled the long brown locks. "I'll keep that scrawny ass of yours safe, okay?"

"Cut that out!" Vin ducked, "Ya gotta an unnatural attraction t'm'hair! Jes' had it combed right."

"Comb!" Buck laughed, pulling his coat on and heading for the door. "That mangy head of yours hasn't seen a comb since last Christmas!"

"Yer jes' jealous!" Vin chirped, following Buck to the door, "'cause ya ain't had that new gal at the saloon shampoo yer hair and talk pretty t'ya!"

"Ruby?" Buck wheeled around, his voice high. He hadn't been able to even get a smile out of her. "You're full of shit, Tanner! She hasn't looked at me and won't give Erza the time of day." He narrowed his eyes suspicously, as the other man simply blushed and grinned. "It can't be money, hell your poorer than a pauper. Ezra's got the clothes and the silver ... my reputation speaks for itself ... I don't get it?"

"Ain't neither one o'ya got m'boyish charm!" Vin crowed, raked a single eyebrow up and elbowed Buck. The deep laughter sank into his ears and he didn't duck this time when the large man's hand clapped his back.

"No, Son, I sure don't. I also don't have the blush thing and the 'Aw, hell, Ma'am ... iffen it ain't t'much trouble'." he mimicked the other man's most effective weapons. The smile died when he felt Vin's body stiffen and stop. "What?" He eyed the soldiers and moved in front of the angry Texan. "You leave that temper of yours here, Vin Tanner. You understand? Me and Ezra will make sure none of them bother you."

"Ya study there faces, Bucklin, ya make sure ya know 'em all ... " Vin fretted, something he couldn't identify tugged at his gut. He couldn't prove it, but he felt sure they were being watched.

"Don't you worry, Son, Buck Wilmington is on the job, okay?" He gripped the buckskinned shoulder and saw the dark head bob once. "'sides, if one of them damn curls of yours is out of place, Chris'll have m'hide. Come on, let's pry Ezra away and meet Dixon."

"Ya go ahead, I already heard his speech. He's meetin' them at 4 at the water stop. I'll be sittin' on the end o' the caboose." Vin backed up, seeing the army appoach. "Buck?" he locked his hand onto the other's strong forearm and let his gratitude shine through his eyes. "Thanks."

"Aw, hell, Vin," Buck winked, feeling the warm blue lights on him. "turn down them eyes' will ya?"

Hidden behind the side of the bathhouse, the blond devil in disguise pulled on a tan coat. His army shirt was hidden under a white one. The large hat completed the disguise. Garrett already got his orders and by six p.m. Vin Tanner and his friends would be history ... and he'd be on his way to Mexico with a fortune in silver.

"Soon, Tanner," he flexed his fists, "Oh, I am going to enjoy our little reunion." He moved his hand across his stomach, where the large scar still remained. The fight was bloody and unexpected. He was in a dustbowl of a town in Texas, waiting on his orders. Tanner came into the saloon, took one look at him and growled. He was surprised to see the youth grown up and living among the decent folks. The blue eyes were feral as they regarded him, each knowing they both recalled the last time they saw each other. Garrett was finished with the pretty young Indian girl, her squalling baby next to her. She was battered and bleeding and he saw the tied up wild boy, with long light brown hair, screaming at him. He smiled, used the knife on her slowly, then lifted his club over the baby's head. He never forgot the look in the wild boy's eyes. Neither did Tanner, and they fought hard that night in the saloon. He broke ribs, cut and slashed the other man, but the Texan wouldn't be stopped. That was, until the barkeeper cold-cocked him hard. Before Garrett could finish him off, the sheriff stepped in and arrested him. His unit moved out the next day, he rode in the wagon, face swollen and marred and more than twenty stitches closing the ragged scar on his chest. He'd have his revenge ... he'd carve his name on Tanner's hide. Smiling, he watched the lean young man disappear into the train. He waited until the final whistle, and crept on board.

While the army and the peacekeepers were busy with their plan above, twenty miles south in San Paulo, Mexico, another plan was completed. The trio of Mexicans rode hard, their mission to intercept the stagecoach. Three of their group, plus four gringos were already ahead, with a large wagon, waiting to pick up the silver. The rode hard to the cutoff above the curve in the road. They covered the road with tree limbs and backtracked a few miles. It was nearly three p.m. Juan Silvestri gave the signal and they began their mission.

"We got company!" Nate called, from his perch ontop the wagon. Two shots whistled past his ear and he returned fire. He flattened his long body down, hiding his head behind a large trunk. He saw the edge of a rifle peeking out and heard the deep voice of his best friend.

"That's just downright rude, interrupting a man's nap."

"Nice shot!" Nate hollered as one of Josiah's bullets sent a bandit to his maker. Then the tide turned, when the driver and guard were hit. "Shit!" Nate snaked his body around, ducking bullets and crawled into the seat, shoving the dead man off and taking the reins. "Dammit!" He eyed the roadblock and tried to stop. The horses veered sharply, sending the wagon on it's side. He was thrown off hard. He rolled over, coughing hard, ridding his lungs of the dirt and dust he sucked in. The click of a gun in his ear and a boot on his hand halted his motion.

"I wouldn't, Senor."

Nate rolled over and nodded, slowly climbing to his feet. He dropped his gunbelt and moved slowly. He was bruised and sore, but nothing was broken. He heard the other bandit screaming and shoving his gun inside the window. He remained in place, his face set in stone, but he was desperate to hear Josiah's voice.

"Mister, I don't like any man waving a gun in my face."

Nathan sighed in relief as the gray-haired man climbed out and pulled the young solider with him. The large man was shoved hard, landing next to Nathan. One bandit's gun remained at Nate's temple, the other moved to the quivering soldier. He was detained, backhanded hard enough to draw blood and send him to his knees.

"Get that money bag!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm Private Calvin Endicott of Fort Laramie. My commanding officer is ... "

"Silence!" Joaquin screamed, still seeing his dead brother Juan's body in the road. "One of you gringo's killed my brother. For that, you will all die." He shot the boy once in the neck, causing a large gush of blood to spout.

"Jesus!" Nate moved to assist him and was thrown to the ground. "I'm a healer, I'm just gonna see if I can help him."

"You move again and you'll join him in Hell ... " the bandit replied, watching his partner go right to the box where the money was. Josiah and Nathan stole a quiet glance. The preacher was right, somebody tipped them. The normal spot for the money was under the driver's feet in a box. But the bandit went right to the place where the soldier tucked it away.

Joaquin took the money bag and tossed it down, quickly following. But he stumbled and both men sprung. Nate drew a knife from his back in one swift motion, killing his captor. The large knife hit the center of his chest with a loud thud. Josiah tackled the other man, both rolled sideways down a hill. Nate picked up the other man's gun and followed, just as a shot rang out.

"Josiah!" He screamed, firing as the bandit's gun rose a second time. The shot took the back of the dark head off. He saw the large man shove the dead one's body off and wave.

"It's not bad, see to that kid ... "

Nate nodded and knelt next to the boy, whose life was quickly coming to and end. He applied a pressure, stemming the flow and used his kerchief to tie a solid bandage around the boy's neck. He eased him upright, leaning him against the underside of the carriage in the shade. Then he ran down the hill, dropping next to his pale friend.

"Yuh said it wasn't bad!" He hissed, watching the scarlet ribbons on the white shirt flow down from the large hand on the bloody shoulder. The teeth bared again in a feeble attempt at an apology.

"I love ... it ... when ... a ... pl ... an ... comes ... together ... " he groaned as the skilled dark hand pressed against the wound. " ... ad ... mit ... it ... Brother, I was..r..r..ight ... "

"Shut up, Preacher, I ain't done cussin' at yuh yet ... Don't got the sense God gave an imbecile. What was yuh thinkin' jumpin' that felluh? Yuh ain't so young anymore ... look at yuh ... hole in yuh Goddamn shoulder ... dammit!"

Josiah sighed and studied the other man's creased features. "You know, Nathan, you shouldn't frown, it's giving you age lines."

"Didn't have no creases 'til I squatted in that town ... spend half my day patchin' up a bunch of ungrateful cowboys. Get up," he ordered, helping the other stand. "There's a large area under the wagon, full of shade. I gotta get that bullet out of yuh ... "

"He dead?" Josiah blinked, eyeing the pale young soldier.

"No, half hour, give or take," Nate predicted. "He's losin' too much blood. I'm gonna send up the firecracker and then I get that bullet out."

"No," Josiah hissed, held his shoulder and sat down gingerly. Nate disappeared and returned with his cloth bag, loaded with the tools of his trade and carbolic.

"No? Whaddya mean no! It's gotta come out."

"Not the bullet," Sanchez grunted, "the firecracker," he noted of the preplanned signal. If they were hit, they were to send up the flare, which would let the army know. "They see that, they'll come ridin'. Look around Nate," he released his grip and let the skilled knife cut the stained fabric from this shoulder. "What's wrong with the picture?" He hissed and grit his teeth when the healer rinsed the wound with soap and water, then doused it with whiskey. "I think you enjoyed that!" He shot out angrily, "three men ... it ... don't make ... sense."

"Yeah," Nate eased the large man down onto the ground and inspected the wound. "It's not deep, shouldn't take long." Glancing back to the road, his keen dark eyes narrowed. "So what then? Yuh think whoever planned this, used them as cannon fodder? So the real crime is covered up?"

"Somebody in the army unit at Burnt Mills knew the plan. If we send up ... a ... signal ... tipping them off."

"So, while the army rides this way, them other jaspers rob the train?"

"You get the bullet out ... patch me up ... I'll stay with the boy ... pray over him. You ride ... warn Chris. Somebody with him it waiting for that signal ... as long as they don't see it, we got time. Time Buck, Ezra and Vin need." He put a piece of wood in his teeth, shut his eyes and prayed. Nate was quick and sure, tugging out the bullet and quickly completing his work. The arm was secured in a sling. He was groggy now, finding it hard to remain alert. He watched Nate set up a camp of sorts, placing the food, water and guns right next to him. He took a large gulp from the canteen and relaxed, easing his back against the carriage. "Godspeed, Brother," he clasped the hand offered and felt the other man's large smile warm him.

"I'll send J.D. back for yuh ... with some men. Shouldn't be too long. Keep drinkin' water and try to eat somethin' ... "

Josiah watched until Nate was a speck on the horizon, then he rested his good hand in the limp one of the dying boy's and began to pray. He saw the boy's pale lips moving, reading the prayers along with him. He was also praying for his friends and that this night would not end with anyone else shedding blood. He would be wrong.

Buck and Ezra spent a quite enjoyable afternoon, chatting with the ladies they'd met. They each patrolled the length of the cars twice, taking turns eyeing the passengers, soldiers and terrain. The iron horse slowed down and Buck eyed the watch in his pocket.

"We're pulling into Rawley Branch," Buck noted of the water stop. "I think I'll stretch my legs and check on Vin. Ladies," he nodded, kissing each hand offered. "Indigestion, Ezra?" he winked at he groan of disgust the other threw his way.

"Not at all, while you chat with our buckskinned friend, I shall escort the ladies to a table in the dining car. Should you care to join us ... "

"It's not a party without old Buck, now isn't it?"

"Bye bye Buck," the brunette cooed, licking her lips slowly and arching a single eyebrow.

"Darlin' you hold that thought and don't be wearin' out that pink tongue of yours ... Old Buck's got his eye on it."

"Good Lord, I am getting indigestion!" Ezra groaned, rising and shoving Buck the other way.

"Hey Vin!" Buck ducked outside the end car, watching the breeze lift he Texan's hair. The mare's leg shot up, cocked and ready to fire. The Texan wasn't dozing in the sun, that was for sure! "Hello usually works for most folks," he teased, eyeing the depot approaching. "I'm gonna get off and use the privvy. You need anything?"

"No, don't be battin' them eyes at any skirts in there, ya end up stuck out here."

"Never happen," Buck hopped down as the train slowed and stopped. "Buck's always on the job."

"Hah!" Vin snorted, returning to his relaxed stance.

After he left the privvy, Buck's eyes narrowed in suspicion. A blond soldier, fair of face, left the train and walked into the depot. He saw the look of concern on the face, which several times peered into the eastern sky. What was he looking for up there? Buck memorized each soldier and had been through the train twice. This man was not with their group. Vin's words tickled his ear and he followed the man, hiding behind a large gathering of boxes, he listened as the tapping of the telegraph began. After the blond paid a coin and left, Buck read the message the operator wrote down, then cursed silently. It was to a 'red dog' in San Paulo, Mexico, stating that gray wolf and the pack would be on time. He frowned and mentally drew a picture of San Paulo, which was just at the end of Camino Del Diablo in Mexico. He picked up his step, eager to find the blond and question him.

While Buck was in the depot, Vin entered the last car, looking for Ezra. He moved forward, through several cars, until he came to the dining car. It was crowded and too many bodies were pressed close together. He couldn't go forward or backward and began to sweat, as he felt his air closing off. Then a voice from behind him, caused his blood to chill. He felt the hot breath down his neck, as the words spilled out softly, for his ears only.

"She sure was a sweet piece Tanner, fought like a wildcat ... ripe and full of milk from that squalling papoose. I can still feel her ripping under that blade, I done her slow, you know, twisting and turning ... that little dog's head smashed like a melon when ... "

That was all Vin heard. The crowd disappeared, the noise in the car died away, his blue eyes grew wide and full of rabid venom. Her face rose in front on him, smiling shyly as she nursed her child. The smell came back, of roasting flesh and the cries of the dead. He saw Garrett raping her and the blood on the knife.

"Good Lord!" Ezra choked on his wine and jumped up as Vin's earshattering scream split the crowded car. He saw a flash of blue uniform, a sneering blond face, almost feverish with lust and then Vin slamming the man hard into the wall. The Texan's voice was full of rage and he spoke in an Indian dialect. Words hard and forced through gritted teeth, combined with the firelust in the blue eyes. The passengers shoved away, screaming and fearful. "No!" he called out, watching three army men rush toward the pair. All they saw were the blue legs down with Vin's fist clutching a knife high. "Vin! Stop!"

Buck's head jerked as he heard the name of his friend. He moved through the crowd, just in time to see a burly guard aim his pistol at Vin's head.

"What the hell are you doing!" Wilmington screamed, shoving the army man's hand out of harm's way. "There's women in there, are you crazy! You could kill somebody."

"I was trying to do just that! That heathen attacked one of my men ... that's reason enough."

"We don't know that!" Buck deflected, as two more bluecoats moved in fast. One slammed a rifle into Vin's ribcage. He screamed, turned and attacked. The passengers made it difficult for Buck or Ezra to get close. Amidst the confusion, Brad Garrett crawled through an army of legs, unseen and out to the landing. He climbed the small metal ladder to the roof and easily made his way down to the end car. Dropping down to the landing, he tugged the large white shirt on, the tan jacket and slouchy brown hat. Then he slid inside and back into his hiding place.

While the culprit got away, Vin was on all fours. The burning sensation exploded in his chest, causing all his air to be stolen. He heard screaming and blinked as the fog lifted. The village disappeared and he saw skirts, blue legs and dusty boots. He was confused and in pain. He looked up for help, just as a large rifle slammed into his head.

"No!" Buck and Ezra screamed in unison.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Buck screamed, shoving the assailant so hard he felt backwards onto a table. "You could have killed him! It ain't bad enough you caved his ribs in? He was hurt, looking for help."

"He attacked a soldier, I have orders."

"You can't shove them orders where the sun don't shine!" the rogue gritted, dropping to Vin Tanner's side. Ezra met him over the body, lifting Vin up and holding him backwards against his chest. He whipped out a pristine white hanky and held it to the large gash on the Texan's head. "Christ, he's bleeding bad, Ezra. Vin, Vin," he pleaded, one shaking hand tapping the bloody mask where the face should be, just as the bloody lips parted.

"Bazi ... Bazi ... " Vin whispered, seeing the beautiful face appear before him. Then his head exploded in a blinding burst of fire. He sighed once and let go, falling far below into a dark abyss.

They both heard the aching whisper and Buck sent a shaking pair of fingers to the Texan's neck. The other hand cupping Vin's red, sticky covered face. " ... Jesus, I can't find a pulse ... " He choked, staring at the shocked, stunned jade eyes of the gambler.

Part Three

J.D.Dunne was hot, tired and hungry. He was not looking forward to another night sleeping on the ground and eating army grub. From the angle of the sun, he'd guess it was nearly four p.m. He sighed, took off his hat, wiped the sweat from his brow, before replacing his bowler. After taking a good drink from his canteen, he had the water container halfway to the pommel, when his eyes narrowed. He sat up straight and squinted into the horizon. The cloud of dust revealed a moving object, racing toward them at a record pace.

"Rider coming in!" He called out, instantly halting the troop. He heard a scattering of hooves and watched Chris move past. The leader was trailing the group, his face obscured by his flat-brimmed hat. The youth watched the poncho-clad figure knee up in the saddle, green eyes locked on the approaching figure. Several minutes passed by, then he sat back down and twisted one hip, facing the youngest.

"It's Nathan."

"Something must have happened to Josiah," Orrin stated, noting the harsh entry.

"Maybe not," Dunne interjected, "Maybe the stage broke down or they busted an axle or ... " he stopped then, as the features on the healer's face became visible. They were tense and drawn.

"What happened?" Chris called out, tossing his canteen to the exhausted, hot and sweaty rider. The dark-skinned man drank greedily, before handing it back and taking several breaths.

"Three Mexicans tried to rob the stage, killed the driver."

"Tried?" the General asked, moving closer. "You captured them?"

"Killed 'em ... didn't leave us no choice. The ambused us and shot the driver. I tried to outrun 'em but the road was blocked. They shot that boy, I'm sorry," he turned back to Chris. "Josiah took one in the shoulder, I dug it out. He's resting with the soldier under the side of the wagon."

"So the payroll is intact? You left it there in the watch of a wounded man?" The General scoffed, only to be cut short.

"My first priority, the only priority was gettin' help Josiah Sanchez." He bit off the rest, when a tense black Larabee glove gripped his forearm.

"You had orders to signal ... what if the rest of that gang was behind them," the commander irately demanded.

"They were alone and I had my reasons." Nate bristled, like J.D., he saw this arrogant man through Vin's eyes now. Try as he might, he could only see a young boy being beaten.

He turned away, but not before Chris saw something lingering in the dark eyes. He nodded slightly, letting Nathan know he understood. Whatever was bothering the ex-slave, he didn't want the army to know. "We'll need a wagon ... "

"Fort Carlisle is close and they have an army surgeon there." Reinhardt insisted, turning towards the back. "Transfer the supplies into the larger wagon. Oates, you and Dillon take the empty wagon back to the stage. Take the wounded and dead and the payroll back to the Fort."

"Chris ... " Nathan hissed, jerking his head. He slid off his horse, and walked over to the supply wagon. He selected some bandages and carbolic, handing them to J.D. "Yuh ride back with 'em, see to Josiah."

"Okay," J.D. nodded, "What's wrong, Nate?" Like Larabee, he knew this men well enough to see the smoke lingering in the dark eyes.

The healer looked around cautiously, before proceeding in a whisper. Chris turned sideways, unrolling a yellowed, parched map. Pretending to read it, he didn't meet Nate's eye. J.D. was rolling linen strips, while Nathan loaded a small sak and talked in a whisper.

"We were set up. Somebody wearin' blue in Burnt Mills got word to those bandits."

"You got proof?" Chris asked, continuing to study the map.

"Yeah ... a blond soldier put that payroll behind the driver, not in the box under his feet where it was supposed to go." He scanned the troops, not seeing the man. "He ain't here. Josiah switched it ... moved it to the mail bag. That bandit, he went right to the spot that blond fella put it in."

" ... and ... " Larabee prodded, hearing the lingering doubts.

"They were cannon fodder," the medic replied, catching a slip of green as the leader's eyes shifted. "The train ... that's the main target. We didn't use the rockets, 'cause that would have tipped them off."

"Oh," the youth kept his voice low, his nimble fingers wrapped cotton. " A diversion?"

"Yeah," Chris grunted, "With us riding in the other direction, leavin' the train ripe for picking. I'll update Orrin and the General. I'll be diplomatic," he paused, hearing Nate's snort. "What? I can be diplomatic!" He noted of keeping their suspicions. "It should buy us a little time."

"You think somebody here was going to relay word to the train ... maybe somebody on the train is involved?" the sheriff inquired, worried about Buck and the others.

"Could be," Nate sighed, "I don't like it ... there's a stretch of track that's just past Queen's Cut ... a blind curve around a steep turn. Something happens up there ... it'll be hard to get to 'em."

"If they did plan this ... to hit the train after ... then they would need wagons to take the silver away. "J.D. added.

"Hiding ... and not far from the border." Chris sighed, rubbing his neck.

"Yeah, but they still to use the 'devil's highway'." Nate handed J.D. the bag. "Yuh watch yuhself,"

"As soon as I'm sure Josiah is okay, I'll catch up ... " he vowed, tipping his hat and hopping back on his horse.

"It would appear you have developed a case of indigestion," Orrin noted dryly, reading Chris Larabee's features. The General was speaking with Nathan and his aide was writing a report to be taken to the Fort.

"It was a diversion," Chris used his time wisely. "The real target is the train and it was timed. Josiah switched the payroll bags in Burnt Mills. Nate said the bandit went right to the spot that a blond soldier transferred it to. He'd have known about the signal."

"So while we rode in the wrong direction, they rob the train?" Travis squinted, eyeing the soldiers. "Is he here?"

"No, Nate didn't see him, he must be on the train." Chris clipped his speech, when the General approached.

"Your man has a very viable theory. We better move out, we have a lot of ground to cover if we want to reach the train by dark."

"We need to secure that road, it's the only route back to Mexico." Orrin paused, "Will Major Douglas be able to send out reinforcements?"

"I've already addressed that in my letter. I'll leave four men at the junction, to meet them and update."

"Let's ride," Chris turned away, urging his steed towards the doomed train that bore his three friends. With every mile that the strong black horse covered, Chris's heart sank a little. Despite their best efforts, he had a cold feeling that his friend's lives were in grave danger.

"You stupid bastard, you killed him!" Buck snarled, severing the man's guts with his taloned eyes. He shot up and gripped the startled soldier by the collar, only to have Ezra's cool voice stoke the fire within him further.

"I thought I smelled a diseased carcass," the southerner's lips curled in disgust. "Mister Wilmington, that 'soldier'," he nearly choked on the word, "was one of the pair who accosted Mister Tanner in the saloon."

"You filthy dog!" Buck gritted, slamming the man into the hard wooden pole by the entry.

"Enough!" Colonel Dixon roared from the doorway. "What is the meaning of this!"

"That animal attacked on of my men ... I had to put him down," Badgar leered, shoving Buck's arm away.

"Put him down?" the rogue's voice was dripping venom, "You say one more word and I'll slice twenty pounds of that lard you're cartin' around your waist off, you bastard!" Buck seethed, shaking off the two men restraining him.

"He's breathing," Ezra said quietly, feeling the raspy warm breath against his palm, which was cupped over Vin's nose. "We need to inquire about a physician. He needs medical attention. The head wound appears serious." He took a linen napkin from the table behind him and pressed it hard against the raggedy cut on Vin's hairline. A small moan escaped, a brief tremble, then the body relaxed against his chest.

"Clear this car immediately. Reilly, get statements from the witnesses. Which soldier was attacked?" The commanding officer demanded.

"Yeah, where is that mystery man? I don't see him!" Buck eyed the flushed faces of Badger and Wallace.

"He was there, minding his own business when that heathen started screamin' in Injun-talk and pulled out a knife. He'd like to slit his throat."

Buck's anger flushed in full when the crowd began to murmur in agreement. "You got no room to talk. From what I've heard, you ain't too shy when it comes to usin' a knife. He was provoked."

"You weren't even here!" one woman huffed. "I was afraid for my person." she backed up clutching her neck. "I insist you put him out."

"After you, Madame," Ezra growled, "that should clear the air considerably. Pity that the ground will break your fall."

"Well," she huffed, tossing her head up, "I never ... "

"Lady, I think that's half your problem," Buck tossed back, while Ezra smirked. "Well? Where is he?"

"I can give you a complete description," Standish lowered Vin onto the floor, folding a table cloth under his caked, crimson head. He took a pitcher of water and more napkins from a sympathetic young private and began to wash Vin's marred features. "Blond, about my height but stockier, to the untrained eye, a handsome man with blue eyes. He was in uniform, but not a member of our group."

"Are you sure?" Dixon asked.

"Positive! Studying faces and being aware of the ... well, let's just say I'm quite observant." Ezra replied.

Buck dropped to Vin's side, taking the sodden cloth from the wound and using a clean one. His eyes met Ezra's and flickered left to right.

"How is he?" the commader asked, eyeing the ministrations the men were providing

"Why don't we ask him?" Buck snarled, flashing stormy blues at the pristine gold buttons on the coat before him. "Vin, how you doin' with your ribs and half your head caved in by a homicial maniac?"

"Buck ... " Standish hissed in warning.

"Colonel?" A sentry at the door interrupted.

"Excuse me," He left the pair, walking to the next car to speak to the witnesses.

"You keep a civil tongue! You're not helping matters!" the gambler warned, then lowered his face as the body beneath him stirred. "Vin, can you hear me?"

"I saw that guy!" Buck whispered, lifting the injured man's head slightly. "You with us, Slick?" he paused, watching the lips part and several unintelligible, soft sounds emerge. Two confused eyes opened, drowning in a sea of murky pain and blue confusion. "Vin?" Buck's brief hope flickered and died. He took the tracker's hand, which was fumbling and flopping like a fish out of water and gripped it firmly. Twice it batted his leg, before he took hold. "You hold on, we got a doctor coming. Okay? Damn," he slumped, as the eyes rolled and shut. "It's bad ... "

"Yes, I'm afraid it is," Ezra gently lowered Vin, keeping a hand on his chest. "What about the man?"

"Oh, I saw him in the depot at the water stop, he sent a wire." Buck relayed the message and saw Ezra's wheels turning. "I gotta find him, he's our inside man."

"Or perhaps just one of them," Ezra saw a middle aged man with reddish hair and a black bag. "I certainly hope he has a miracle in there."

"Sir," the private shuffled, "this man is a doctor, he offered to look at the prisoner."

"Prisoner!" Buck boomed, "You damn well know ... he's no prisoner." He eyed Dixon, who studied Vin's prone body and then sighed.

"I'm sorry, Mister Wilmington, but every witness gave the same account. Until we pull into San Diego, he'll be kept under lock and key. Once the doctor looks at his injuries, we'll move him to the guarded car."

"I wouldn't advise that," the doctor knelt in the spot vacated by Buck. One look at the pale, sweaty face, shallow breathing and large amount of blood was a good indication. He felt the cold hands of the young man and tilted the blood-encrusted head to have a better look. One trained hand took the pulse, then moved to examine his eyes. "This man is gravely injured. Movement should be limited. He should be kept warm and comfortable, he's lost blood and is in shock. After I stitch his wound and wrap those broken ribs, we can carefully proceed." he turned to the man across from him with a bright red coat. "Can you lift him please. Let's get that coat off, that's it. Careful of his head, support it ... " he slid his stethescope under the injured man's bloody shirt and listened to his breathing. "His lungs are intact ... but a sudden wrong move and he could pierce one. He needs to be kept quiet and still. We might even stop at Fullerton," he noted of the small mining town, "and take him off. He'd be better without all this rough motion."

The Colonel waited several minutes, watching the surgeon carefully remove the shirt from Tanner. Standish held him under the arms, while the doctor wrapped his ribs. After close to two dozen stitches were applied to the gash on hairline near his forehead, he cleaned the pale young man's face. The skilled hand gently removing the blood encrusted in his right ear, neck and shoulder.

"Thanks, Doc," Buck stooped down, absentmindedly moving Vin's hair from his face, so a thick white bandage could be wrapped around his head.

"I'd like to remain with him," he said to the two men who were visibly upset by their friend's condition. The older one's hands were trembling as they lifted the long, crimson-tinged brown hair. "I'm Doctor Miles Smith from the University of Pennsylvania."

"A pleasure, Sir," Ezra shook his hand and offered payment, which was denied.

"No, the pleasure is mine," he helped Buck get the young man back in his shirt. "I spent the better part of an hour speaking with him. He was outside the end car, I was having a smoke. He's quite a remarkable young man, I was very impressed."

"I'm sorry Doctor," the Colonel denied, "but he's a prisoner. I'm grateful for your services, but he'll be transferred and kept under guard. If he gets worse, I'll send a man for you. Thomas," he barked, and a soldier jumped up. "Take him away."

"Hold on!" Buck stood up, using every inch of his tall frame. "You heard what that doctor said. He shouldn't be bounced around. He's not gonna hurt anybody, hell he might not ever wake up, thanks to trained bear you have."

"Would you like to join him!" Dixon snapped, eyes shooting fire.

"Is that a threat, Sir," the word curled up in disgust and died as it dropped from the irate peacekeeper's mouth.

"Buck!" Ezra hissed, pushing his slight body in front. "I'd like to remain with him. His injuries are too grievous to be left unattended. Would that be acceptable?"

"You want to play nursemaid, Standish, be my guest," he waved his arm. "You can help carry him." he turned away and strode from the car.

"I'll stay with Vin in the silver car," Ezra whispered, shoving the broad chest of Buck Wilmington backwards. "You keep that temper in check, if we are to prevail, I need you thinking clearly, understood?"

"Yeah," Buck sighed, lifting Vin upright.

"See that you do!" Ezra chastised, as Buck helped him lift the unconscious man. "You find our missing man ... and get some answers! There's a dangerous stretch of road approaching and darkness will be upon us in a couple hours. If they intend on robbing the train, it will be then."

"Alright," Buck sighed, backing up. He took the scarlett arm, feeling for the tiny trick gun. "You keep that peashooter primed and ready, okay Ace?"

"Fear not, I shall live to conquest another day," he nodded, hearing the concern in the other's voice. Ezra had Vin's upper body and the soldier gripped him under the knees. He paused, taking Vin's strong, square, stubbled chin in his hand. He heard the animated drawl in the bathhouse and saw the eyes in his mind, light blue and full of boyish charm. How true the tracker's words had been! He took a steadying breath and left one calloused thumb caress the stubbled cheek. "You fight like hell, Vin Tanner ... " He turned away sharply, not looking back, taking his long legs to the next car to begin his search. Little did he know, Fate had cast her cold black eyes on the trio, dusting them all with blood and pain.

The afternoon heat blazed down unmercifully, not granting favor to the holy man. He'd drained the water and now was cloaked in a blanket of lethargy. He jerked his head away, something was buzzing in his ear. Damn flies ... can't give a man any peace.

J.D. was off his horse in a flash, several yards ahead of the wagon. He dropped to the unconscious preacher's side, dousing a cloth with water and wiping the sweaty, pasty face. He saw the soldier then and moved one hand over, wavering in an unsettled dance near the stilled neck.

"He's dead."

"Josiah?" he jumped, voice scratchy.

"You were expecting someone else?" The preacher sighed, squinting at the darked outline, the features obscured by th sun. "Didn't lose that hat yet? Damn shame."

"You're just jealous!" he sighed, "Come on, let's get you into the wagon. We're headed to Fort Carlisle so you can see a doctor."

Josish was leaning against the back of the wagon, as J.D. completed his bandage changing. The arm slid into a crude sling, causing the gray-haired man to wince.

"Sorry!"

"That's okay, Son, you're a lot quieter than Brother Jackson," he smiled, "At my age, I appreciate the small things." He moved slightly as the wrapped body of the soldier was placed next to him. His smokey eyes met the soldier's, who locked the back of the wagon in place. "He saved our lives, you make sure his folks know that."

"Yes, Sir," the soldier nodded.

"J.D., payroll's in the boot ... best get it and we can get moving. Two bags of mail in there too." Sanchez sighed, his heavy eyes sliding shut. "Any word on the train?"

"Not yet," Dunne called back, snaking his arm into the upended rear of the stage.

Vin never stirred during the short sojurn to the car which would be his holding cell. Ezra waited while the two army men guarding the car stepped forward and glanced at Vin.

"He that loon that Badger talked about?" the older man asked the soldier bearing Vin's legs.

"He's many things, most of which are well beyond your feeble grasp. Please step aside." Ezra huffed, as the door opened. "Good Lord, they're recruiting children ... " he mumbled, eyeing the extremely youthful face that greeted them. His wide-eyed stance, stammering and shuffling body, gun dropping and hat falling off, made J.D. seem like a old pro. "Easy Son, I do not fancy meeting my maker today."

"Huh ... uh ... halt ... uh ... "

"Hughes, he's a prisoner, you keep your eye out!" The guard barked, nodding to a long crate. One side of the car was filled with long, coffin-like crates. The gambler quickly deduced that they were rifles, new and expensive. Several smaller crates sat in the far corner and beyond that, the crates containing the silver. He felt the sweat already clinging to him, as a result of the thick, stagnant air.

"If you would be so kind," Ezra grunted, thankful that he was carrying the slim Texan and not the sly rogue. "Would you mind laying a blanket on that crate?" he jerked his head to the lone box that had room around it and a little air. The boy eyed the other guard, who was eager to drop Vin. He then laid out a dark green, coarse blanket. Vin was settled onto the wooden box. Ezra used his jacket, carefully folded, as a pillow. He spotted two large empty cotton sacks in the corner and cut them in strips. He used a third one, cut lengthwise, to cover Vin's upper body. He frowned, when Vin's features grimaced in silent pain. A clinking sound caused him to turn. "What are you doing?" He asked the flustered youth. The other soldier was gone, leaving the roomy car just with Ezra, Vin and the very young soldier.

"He's ... a ... needs ... to be locked up ... uh ... under control ... manacled ... it says so in the book."

"Yes, well I can see where you would be concerned, as he's done nothing but jump about and attempt to flee since he arrived!"

"I gotta orders to follow, I don't make 'em ... " the boy bruskly replied, returning to his post near the silver.

"I have an aversion for 'orders'," the southerner replied, eyeing the iron gripping Vin's bootless ankle. He picked up the worn leather boot and placed it on the crate next to the body. The other end of the manacle was attached to a pipe that ran the length of the car. Ezra pulled a smaller crate over and backed it up the end wall, several feet from Vin. He sat down and stretched his legs out, using the only space available. He pulled out a small flask and took a sip. His shirt was soaked, the dense air clung to him. His face was already damp and he felt stifled. "Perhaps I should have listened to Mother and gone to medical school ... " he mused, pondering his fate. His curious jade gaze went to the young boy guarding the silver. Dirty blond hair and wide brown eyes were trained on him, along with the quivering rifle. "I am not the enemy, Son. How old are you anyway?"

"Eighteen," he wavered ... "almost"

"How almost ... " Ezra stared hard and answered his own question. "Sixteen?" The flush rising gave him his answer. "No greater dependence is to be placed on the eagerness of young soldiers for action, for the prospect of fighting is agreeable to those who are strangers to it." He drawled, recalling the quote well.

"You a writer?"

"Hah!" Ezra scoffed, "My gift for words is limited compared to Mister Tanner," his gaze went to the injured man, "He is the master."

"He said that?" The soldier stammered. "You're kidding!"

"No, that quote was from a writer, a Roman for the 4th century named Vegetius. It's meaning is timeless. Virginia?" He guessed at the accent and saw the head bobbing.

"My Pa died at Gettysburg, I joined up as soon as I was old ... uh ... well, the Sargeant said I would be a fine addition."

"Hah," Ezra choked, "Spoken in the truest sense of blue." He shuffled a deck of cards and watched the young man pacing. "You should have elected to continue your education. This world is far more in need of the skill of pen, rather then sword."

"Me and school didn't get along ... I'm Ted Hughes, Fairfax County."

"Ezra Standish," he nodded in return, rising as Vin began to move. He watched the eyes part briefly, not seeing anything above them. He picked up a canteen and gently raised the sweat-soaked Texan's head. "I have some water, don't gulp it ... " he instructed, tipping the container skillfully, then pulling it back. The eyes closed and he laid the head back down. He resumed his seat, shuffled his cards and wondered how his partner was faring.

Buck combed every car in the first class section, scouring the closets and sleeping berths as well.. He then moved to the coach section, passing by two cars. He entered the third and stood in the doorway, his dark blue eyes sweeping left than right, studying each face. He walked slowly, eyeing the twilight outside and worrying. He had a bad feeling and was about to exit the third car, when a body moved past him, heading for the door. From his sideview, he caught a speck of blond hair peeking from beneath a large hat. He tilted his head, then saw a hint of dark cloth under the large white shirt the man wore. He pulled his gun, moving to close the gap. It was the same man! "Hey!" he cried out, at the same time the body shoved him aside. The chase was on ... both men running through the two remaining coach cars, hitting the benches and passengers as the motion of the train hampered their ability.

"Stop him!" Buck hollered, but nobody paid attention. He tackled the younger man as they neared the end of the car. A heavy boot shot back and clipped his jaw, sending tooth through lip and expelling blood and curses. The blond disappeared up the small ladder, leading to the top of the car. Buck followed, ducking as a shot rang out, he gripped the thin bar with one hand and returned fire. Then, he resumed the chase. The wind whipped his hat off, as he climbed on the roof. The speed of the train made it difficult for either of them to move with any agility. Buck's eyes didn't miss the fact that the man was nervous. He kept looking at the left side of the road, in the distance. Then he'd get a frantic look ... as if he was a rat caught in a trap. Something was very wrong!

Another bullet whizzed by, sending him to his knees. He ducked out of harms way, returning fire and hitting his target. Buck approached cautiously on his hands and knees, trying not to fall off the top of the car. He snaked his left hand out, trying to grab the man's gunarm. Blood ran down the arm of the soldier. The train hit a curve, causing him to lose his balance. The gun came up, firing and striking his arm.

"Shit!" He dove forward, covering the man's body with his own. He lifted the blond head and smacked it hard against the car. "What's got you rattled? You got a pack of lowlifes waiting on you ahead? Is that what the wire was that you sent?" He saw the flicker of surprise and grunted, "You got about ten seconds ... " he clicked the gun against the struggling man's head. "What happened in the Dining Car? Spill it! What are you up to?"

Brad Garrett weighed his options. He was on his belly, the larger man straddling him. If they were on time, he had only minutes. That meant no time to spare. He had to get rid of Tanner's mouthy friend and get off the train. His keen blue eyes darted, recalling the comaraderie he heard the two exchange in Burnt Mills. He needed to distract the man, cause him to flinch ... just a second of hesitation.

" ... I just reminded him of the first time we met," he spat out in contempt, snaking his right hand slowly down his hip to his thigh. "He was a dirty savage, tied up and blue-eyed wild. I was hard for his sister, she's wasn't much older than him."

"You fuckin' animal," Buck hissed in shock, his stomach churning. "You raped and murdered women and children!" He slammed the head again, a red haze clouded his senses. His sister ... Vin was forced to watch this animal rape and murder his sister.

"They weren't real women," he goaded, his fingers finding what they sought. "After I had my fill of her ... I used this!" He slammed the knife into the man's meaty thigh, jerked his body around as the other cried out in pain. He brought the gun up, aimed it at the shocked man's face and prepared to fire.

The pain was so sharp, unexpected and intense, Buck had no time to prepare. He screamed as the blade drove through flesh and muscle, ripping his tender thigh. He saw the muzzle of a pistol and grabbed at the villian's wrist. They rolled over, dangerously near the edge. The gun was presed to his cheek and Buck bit the man's hand hard, nearly severing his little finger.

It was then that fate decided to smile on the brave rogue. The new night sky was filled with a horrific sound. The well planted sticks of dynamite did their job. The explosion sent the first several cars down off the steep curve into the valley below. Most of the others curled up in protest, lying on their sides. Neither combatant saw this, for the initial blast sent them airborne.

The sudden gravity defying motion, accented by a ear-piercing detonation, slammed the conman into the heavy door, sending his shoulder out of joint. His head cracked the frame hard, causing a warm spill of blood down his face. He was tumbled over and over, upside down and finally, through a horrible screeching sound of metal, rock and fiery friction clashing, the car shuddered and stopped. He was pitched onto a broken crate, his back slashed with a pain so intense it caused a white burst of color before his dazed jade eyes. He couldn't move at all, his shoulder throbbed mercilessly, the pain in his head and the blood loss had him dizzy and nausious. In the dim light, he saw a jagged piece of metal embedding in the neck of the soldier. The boy's head was no longer with his body. Sickened, he turned his eyes away, not able to stop the vomit from spilling. Gasping and choking, he then realized his two worst fears. One was the searing pain in his back and his inability to move his lower body. The other was the fact that Vin Tanner was gone. The crates were smashed, falling on each other like kindling. Was Vin's body torn to pieces, like the unfortunate soldier's? The pain was unbearable now, but still he remained lucid and awake. Then he saw it ... and his heart nearly stopped. There, at the far end of his blurring vision, from beneath the rubble, was one slim, pale Tanner hand. Was it a beacon in the darkness? It was limp and dangling just inches above the floor.

"Vin ... " he whispered painfully, wondering if he or anyone else, was still alive. A shock he hadn't felt since the war gripped him. The kind that comes after the carnage of battle. It filled the quiet night and blanketed him roughly. That numbing tranquility didn't last long ... after a few seconds of deafening silence, the screaming started. The depths of agony filled the gut-shredding shrieks was previously unknown to him. "Oh God ... " he choked, fearing a long, agonizing death and wondering why God wasn't more merciful. The poor boy who died, undoubtedly, felt nothing. He felt air and realized that a part of the car was ripped open. What followed, caused him to vomit again. He was grateful that Fate placed him on his side. The stench of burning flesh, from some poor souls, slowly roasting to death, was too much to bear. He welcomed the blackness and surrendered to the void.

Clay Morgan, like any other ten-year old, loved watching trains. A quarter mile from his house, there was a hill that overlooked the steep turn known as 'Queen's Cut'. Every twilight, just after apple pie, he and his nine-year old brother Matt sat and waited. But tonight, something horrible happened. Something that scared the two boys out of their wits and left them in stunned silence. An explosion under the second car, sent the locomotive and three cars behind it down into the canyon. Several others tipped over, before the rest clamored to a stop.

The older boy flinched as the screams of those trapped and injured filled the descending night air. He hauled his brother up and shoved him back towards the path to their home.

"We gotta get Pa, get some help for them folks."

"Clay!" Matt protested, pointing a dirty fist, "What are they doing?"

The keen-eyed older boy saw a group of men hiding behind a cluster of rocks east of the wreck. They had a wagon and left one man guarding it, while the others swarmed down the hill. They didn't turn towards the cars in the back, where the screaming was. They went to the fourth car, which was upside down.

"Clay!"

"Shhhh!" the older boy shoved his brother's head out of sight and continued to watch. Two of them emerged, clearly not happy. They had a large box and dumped a pile of rocks out. One large man kicked the box in anger. "I think ... they're robbing the train ... they ain't helping any of the hurt folks. You go home and get Pa, I'm gonna watch 'em. Go!" After his brother was safely down the road, the inquisitive older boy inched forward, so he could hear.

The voices roused him. The buzzing sounds turned coherent and he peeled an eye open. He was shocked to find it worked. No other limb would, every movement brought a ripple of agony down his back and through his neck and shoulders. His equilibrium was disturbed and it took several minutes to realize he as lying on the ceiling. Vin. The image of the pale hand returned and he moved his head slightly, the hand was still there. The voices returned and he glanced around. Several crates obscured his view, but a gaping hole in the side of the car provided air. There was an opening between the crates, a tiny window giving him a view of a single gold braid running up a blue hip. He was about to cry out for help, when he heard them.

"Where is it?"

"I don't know, Sir, it should have been here. Those five boxes were the silver shipment, they're loaded with worthless chunks of ore. I don't get it? Where's the silver?"

"I'm afraid I underestimated the President and my compatriots in Washington. I'd wager that the silver has long since been delivered .This was a ruse to lure us into a trap."

Ezra clamped his mouth shut, now fearing for his life. The voice attached to a body obscured from his full view belonged to Colonel Richard Dixon. No wonder he'd been so anxious to have Vin under lock and key! Nor did he protest when he'd volunteered to remain with his fallen friend. They were cannon fodder. Buck was his only hope now. Buck? Where was Buck? Was he among the carnage whose burning flesh filled the night air? Ezra shoved that thought aside and kept his attention on the conversation.

"So what now?"

"Get all those rifles, we can salvage something out of this. I'll find Garrett and send him back to San Paulo. I'll take care of the official report here. Get these rifles off the train, before the people in town arrive. Corey has a boat waiting on the river, ten miles east. Load the rifles and take the river to Hooper, then south into Mexico. We have to go the long route, Camino Del Diablo is out of the question."

Ezra's attention then shifted 180 degrees. The rifles, some scattered , some in broken or disrupted crates, were covering Vin Tanner. What would his fate be? He hoped that his friend was alive and remained unconscious. His wait for a reply wasn't long.

"Senor?"

"Yes," Dixon replied from outside.

"What about him?"

"What about him?" the Colonel repeated, eyeing the stilled form of the peacekeeper. "Is he alive?"

"Si, but he sleeps."

"Then leave sleeping dogs lie, Manual and get those rifles out of here!"

The gambler knew not of time elapsing. His one function was too keep silent and alert. Vin was alive and they both needed help. The grunts of effort faded away and at last there was silence. The air grew cooler, refreshing at first, then he began to shiver. He waited several more minutes before taking stock of his position. The iron pipe that ran around the bottom of the car, now was above his head. Gritting his teeth against the pain that he knew would ensue, he raised his right arm and latched on. He didn't bite back the scream of agony, as a pain ripped through his neck and back. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with blood and soaking his face. He took a deep breath and began his journey. Inch by inch, he moved slowly towards the fallen body of his comrade.

"Vin!" he coughed, as the night wind brought drifting smoke into the car. "Vin Tan ... ner ... Vin ... Wake up. " He paused, swallowing back another wave of pain and continued, until he arrived at the Texan's side. He was on his back, nearly unmarred. The bandage on his head was intact, and his torn shirt revealed taped ribs. The shackled leg was now extended above, attached to the pipe. Ezra tried to pull himself up, but the agony in his back prevented it. He sat back hard, gasping and sweating profusely. He withdrew a pristine linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. He then moved his hand to Tanner's face, tapping it lightly. "Mister Tanner, wake up. I will not suffer alone." Not even a flicker. He snaked his hand down the tracker's neck, and was relieved at the strong pulse. He kept one hand on Vin's neck and closed his heavy eyes, allowing himself a few minutes of rest.

"Slow down, Son, I can't understand you," Kyle Morgan squatted down to try to make sense out of the fast-talking tyke.

"The train crashed ... we seen it ... people are burning ... screaming for help. But the soldiers didn't help 'em ... Clay said they was robbers ... The got a wagon and was unloading crates of rocks. They didn't never go near the hurt folks."

"Where is your brother now?" The anxious father asked, eyeing the darkening sky.

"He's waiting on the hill. He sent me for help."

"You did good son," he rose, "David!"

"Yeah, Pa?" the sixteen year old ambled outside.

"The train crashed over by Queen's Cut. You ride to town, get the sheriff. Tell him to wire the army. Folks are hurt, tell 'em to wire every town in the county. We'll need doctors, wagons, blankets. Go on ... "

"Yes, Sir!" the teenager ran to the barn.

"Come on, Matt, you show me where Clay is ... "

Unbeknownst to the greedy gang, a boy was listening to their every word. He was a smart boy and studied every face and motion. Once he was sure they were gone, he slid on his butt down the hill and peeked inside the car. He saw broken boxes, piles of rocks and busted bags of flour. The snowy powder littered the floor. Then he saw a soldier's body and followed the line up from the belly to the shoulders and ...

The scream forced Ezra's eyes open.

"Is someone there?" he coughed, the pain in his back was nearly unbearable.

"Yes ... "

A child's voice. A terrified, shaken voice. The sight of a headless body would do that to anyone.

"My friend and I are in need of aid, can you summon help. Are you a passenger of the train?"

"No, Sir," I'm Clay Morgan, my Pa's farm is a few miles from here. Me and Matt saw the wreck. I sent Matt home to fetch Pa."

"Good Lad ... " he cried out again. Something nudged his hand and he opened his eyes. A boy of about ten or so, tall for his age, with a shock of reddish hair knelt next to him. A canteen was in his hand.

"It ain't full but it's got enough. I found it over there ... by ... by ... "

"Young Mister Hughes is the dearly departed. Thank you, Son." He took a small sip and saw the boy's green eyes flickering on Vin and his manacled leg.

"There is a set of keys on the floor by where Mister Huges is lying. It will free my friend's leg."

"Are you prisoners or somethin'?" the boy asked, not moving to get the keys.

"Ezra P. Standish is most certainly not a prisoner," he paused, "We are ... 'or something' ... most definately," the gambler coughed again. "We are peacekeepers, Mister Tanner encountered a rather unsavory member of the army and they got into an altercation."

"He had a fight with one of them crooked soldiers?" Clay translated.

"Yes ... they beat him and secured his leg. He must be in a lot of pain ... " Ezra paused, "How did you know they were crooked?"

"I seen 'em." He shrugged, walking to the dead body and taking the keys. "Can I cover him up, it ain't right, him havin' no head."

"I'm sure he would appreciate that," Ezra noted, watching him move a blanket over the man's upper body. He tried all the keys but none of them worked.

"That's all right, it's not broken, I'm sure help will arrive soon." He felt around his vest, securing his flask. He took a small sip and eyed the boy again, who was tapping Vin's face.

"Hey Mister ... you alive?"

"What did you see?" The southerner asked.

"We seen the train blow. The first two cars exploded, the next bunch went down the hill. We seen a wagon hidden in the rocks. One man stayed on it and the others ran down the hill. They didn't go to the hurt folks, they went right here. Then one man got mad, he had a bunch of gold braids on his arms and legs. They dumped a crate open and rocks fell out. They was awful mad ... they took the road to the river."

"You're a smart boy, Clay. I want you to listen very carefully. You must go back and find your father. Tell him what you saw..understand? It might not be safe for you to remain here, they may return." It wasn't just Dixon he feared but Brad Garrett or whoever else was lurking. "I'll make sure the proper authorities are made aware of your heroic efforts."

"Okay," he disappeared for a moment, returning with a lantern and some blankets. A jug of cider was provided as well. "He won't be usin' it , you might need it." He lit the lantern, setting it on upended crate to the fancy talking man's right.

"A most thoughtful action, Young Man," he coughed, feeling the thin blanket on his chest. He held his hand out, shaking the little boy's. "A pleasure, Mister Morgan. Perhaps I'll see you again. Go on, now." He urged, watching the boy cover Vin with a blanket. The pain wouldn't be denied now and pulled him under. Side by side, the two fallen friends remained silent in waiting.

It took forever, but finally he pulled his bruised and battered body from the cold current. Queen's Cut held a dangerous curve near the bend of the Colarado River. The explosives that were detonated at the crest, timed to take out the second car, sent both he and Tanner's friend into the river. The bullet passed right through his arm and the cold water stung the wound. He was on his back, gasping for air, dizzy and exhilerated. Finally, Brad Garrett pulled himself up and eyed his surroundings. The river ran by him in an angry mood, ripping over the rocks. He scanned the banks, seeing no signs of the other man. He wiped his face, got his bearings and set out for the boat.

Little did the departing soldier know, but his advesary was lying just a few feet away, in a cluster of rocks. It took all of the muscle and grit in every fiber of his bleeding, battered body to battle the raging water. Now, he couldn't move. His leg throbbed mercilessly, pounding every nerve ending in a steady rhythm. It hurt to breathe and he felt the familiar burning sensation the broken ribs bring. He coughed up half the river, each motion ripping his tender ribcage to pieces. His lungs protested, firing hot balls of flames through him. He crawled a few feet, managed to get to the road and collapsed again. As the night sky flew around his fading eyes in a dizzying pace, his confusion grew. What happened? Where was he? Was he alone? His eyes fluttered shut, giving the battered body some respite.

"Chris?" Nate shouted, riding back to find his friend. He didn't have to travel far. The man in black was already urging his horse forward. Both heard the giant roar from ahead and raced the wind, fearing the worst.

Soft, raspy grunts settled near his head. He peeled an eye open, realizing it was his own voice he heard. The first thing that struck him was that his leg was in the air. It was attached to the wall about four feet up. He cocked his head, studying the blurry image of his leg and sat up, attempting to dislodge it. That was a mistake. He felt sure the agonizing pain ripping his head apart was due to an axe being embedded in the center of his skull. The waves of pain sent his rolling stomach into overdrive. He turned sideways, emptying his stomach hard and painful onto something soft. His face kept hitting cloth encased flesh. At last he was done, gasping for breath that he couldn't seem to find. His mouth and nose were obscured by vomit and he began to panic.

"Are you finished?"

His face was buried in something soft that was moving a little. He couldn't move or even speak ... he had no air! He started to panic again, weakly jerking his limbs and gagging.

"Stop that, this instant." Ezra scolded, his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit car. He recognized the voice and welcomed it, then heard the panic. Instantly, he hand moved, freeing the obstacles from the Texan's mouth. Several more weak coughs ensued, then a small round of dry heaves. He felt for Vin's face again, as the tears that the painful hacking caused ran from his eyes.

The lamp oil was running out and he eyed the opening on the side of the car. Despite the fact that Vin Tanner vomited into his groin and his face now rested there, he would welcome Buck Wilmington's booming voice now. It mattered not that the rogue would make a sordid tale out of the compromising position. "Can you remove your face from my lap?"

"What?" Vin muffled, coughing a wad of something onto the soft spot. "Aw ... hell ... " he croaked. "Dammit Ez ... "

"By all means, this is my doing," the gambler slid his hand under Vin's face and shifted him. He used the cloth in his hand to wipe the dazed man's nose and mouth. "There is nothing quite more pleasant than wearing tracker vomit in my crotch."

He was too tired, sore and dizzy to be embarrassed. He moved his body away, gasping and sucking in air. A cloth was pressed to his hand. It was rough, like burlap. He used it to wipe his face and then fell back, before the blackspots overtook him again. He rested his eyes, sucked in air painfully and racked his brain trying to figure out what happened.

"Here," Ezra tapped the trembling Texan's hand with his canteen. "You should drink some water."

"Where are we?" Vin whispered painfully, feeling more nausea coming. "Oh God ... " he twisted, tyring to curl up. The pain in his head and ribs were dueling for top honors. He couldn't see, or think, he only wanted the axe out of his head. "take ... it ... out ... please ... "

"What?" Ezra looked sideways, unable to move much. He saw a halfmasted pair of confused sky eyes, wearing agonizing riddles. Vin was on his side, breathing heavily and one fist was curled in a ball. He was able to move his hand over and grip the sticky neck of the other man.

" ... axe ... take ... head ... out ... "

"That is the unfortunate result of your encounter with a rather unsavory blond soldier on the train. I would lay odds that his hands were involved in the explosion and robbery. We are trapped in wreckage awaiting assistance."

"Garrett!" Vin growled as the sneering face returned. "Fuckin' bastard ... yellow-bellied son-of-a-bitch ... "

"Charming traits."

"He kilt Bazi ... " Vin's voice was choked now, "She's only fourteen Ez ... jes' had her firstborn. He's a fine boy ... Garrett smashed his head ... they made me watch ... "

Ezra was horrified and didn't know quite how to respond. "I'm sorry, Vin, was she your ... uh ... that is ... "

" ... my sister ... she's Commache ... we was close ... she kept lookin' at me ... fer help ... he did things ... I couldn't ... "

"Don't Vin," He gripped the shoulder, "here, take some water. Try to rise up again ... Vin?" He peeked down and the eyes were shut again. Ezra sighed, pulled his blanket off and covered the shivering man next to him. His eyes went to the gaping hole, wondering when help would arrive. He drifted for awhile and felt something touching his hand. He jerked back, his first instinct thinking it was a rat.

" ... sorry ... "

The deep whisper brought the jade eyes open. The car was nearly engulfed in near darkness now. He turned again, seeking the source of the sad voice. The injured Texan was on his back now, eyes dull and listless.

" ... didn't mean t' ... " Vin was fighting hard for every word, so dizzy and sick he wished he would black out. " ... thought ya was dead ... " his dry mouth caused his voice to creak and groan. He felt the canteen pressed into his hand and his head lifted.

"I'm sorry Mister Tanner, one shoulder was damaged in the collision and is of no use." He paused, watching the bloody fingers of the younger man trying to fumble with the cork. Finally it was free and the canteen rose. He saw the lips part and one tiny swallow. "That would not be enough for a starving sparrow."

"Yer boys ... need ... another ... bath ... " Vin choked, trying to keep the small amount of moisture down.

"Understood," he eased Vin's head back down, watching him trying to hold the water down.

"What the hell happened?"

"Our inside man, or perhaps only one of them, is Colonel Dixon. He invaded this car after the wreck seeking the silver. He was quite distressed when the boxes contained rocks ... "

"Rocks!" Vin hollered, " ... shit ... " he hissed as the bouncing red ball of flames exploded in his head and chest. From far away he heard Ezra's voice and felt a hand on his chest, tapping weakly.

"I wouldn't advise you raising your voice again,"

"Thanks fer the tip," he shot back insulted. " ... shouldda followed m'gut ... I knew them bluebellies was up t'no good. They ... never ... are ... " More words than he should have said, left him weak and breathless.

"He advised his men to take the rifles to a boat on the river. From there, they will deport at Hooper and take the road to San Paulo. Mister Wilmington followed Garrett into the depot and saw him wire ahead there."

" ... he's ... dead ... meat ... " Vin vowed, feeling a heavy weight behind his eyes. He had to shut them, the burning pain was too great. The axe in this skull was being slammed hard. "Ez ... "

"Yes," he turned watching the pale lips moving. "Rest now ... don't talk."

" ... pocket ... "

"Very well." He patted the ratty coat and felt a slight bulk in one pocket. He withdrew it and peeked inside. There were several smashed pieces of chocolate and a few broken peppermints.

" ... ain't much ... " he managed, "I's savin' 'em ... ya take 'em ... ye'll need ... yer strength ... "

Ezra started to say something, eyeing the meager meal in his hands. He'd dined at the finest tables in New Orleans, New York and London and Paris as well. Somehow, the exquisite cuisine he recalled now paled in comparison to this small offering. He now sat in the wreckage of an iron horse, sitting in vomit with a decapitated solider for company. He set the bag down, took out a small bit of chocolate and nudged the sharpshooter's lips. The head turned away, shaking in denial.

" ... wouldn't stay ... put ... " Vin whispered. " ... I want ya ... t'have ... 'em ... " He paused, took several small breaths and sighed. " ... ain't feelin' s'good Ez ... I think ... I'm ... "

"Vin?" Ezra turned sharply, ignoring the pain shooting through his back and neck. The other man was silent again, but there was something troubling about his stillness. He fumbled against Vin's neck and found the pulse. Then he picked the chocolate up and took a bite, thinking it was, perhaps, the finest morsel he'd ever digested. He leaned back, kept his free hand on Vin's warm neck and stood vigil beside his friend.

Part Four

As they crested the hill, they paused, letting the exhausted horses rest a minute. Wordlessly, they moved over, two sets of eyes stunned into silence. At first glance, it appeared maybe not so bad, the end cars were intact. They jogged across the top of the hill aways, until the road turned. Then they saw the carnage.

"Sweet Jesus!" Nathan choked, eyes narrowing in anguish.

Several coaches were driven into each other, spilling their human cargo haphazardly onto the ground. Two fires burned nearby, from the coal car, giving the accident scene an eerie glow. Jagged bursts of metal, flying glass and split beams of wood lie amidst the bodies, looking like a macbre broken child's toy. One poor soul was cut in half, only his lower body was visible. The choking scent of burning flesh was carried on the night air, along with the smoke from the charred wreck. Screams of the injured and dying were heard, along with moans, weeping and shouts for help. Nathan bowed his head in prayer, thinking of his missing friends. "Lord, keep 'em in the hollow of yuh hand ... " he paused a few more seconds, then returned to his horse. He mounted and turned back, but the man in black had yet to move or utter a sound. He grabbed the reins of Chris's black steed and rode forward. The profile was a caustic mixture of bitter anger, deep-seeded pain and genuine shock. The green ice were wide and hard, edged in danger. "Chris?"

He heard his partner, but didn't turn at first. He still couldn't believe it. The smell was real enough, bringing back memories he thought long dead on a battlefield far away. The cries for help were real too. Broken bodies, too many of them, lie scattered in pieces below. He knew what they would find. Headless torsos, mangled limbs and stunned, grieving relatives for which no words of comfort would be enough. But more than anything else, he feared for the three faces of his friends. He did a quick calcuation and hoped maybe, that they would have been in the dining car and spared. Vin would have been outside, if possible, not liking trains to begin with. Most likely, he'd be heading up the rescue effort. He saw bodies moving below and heard a deep voice giving orders. His head turned and he saw movement from the west, horses maybe? A town? He heard Nathan again and felt a hand on his back. "Yeah," he said simply, not ready for words, for there were none. He mounted in silence and rode into Hell.

By the time he reached the boat on the river, the battered soldier was spent. He collapsed on deck, feeling someone lift him. He made no sound, grabbing the canteen and chugging it greedily. He felt someone tugging the sticky cloth from his arm and finally opened his eyes. He saw Dixon approaching and he wasn't happy.

"What the the hell happened to you?"

"The big guy with the mustache ... tailed me ... jumped me." Brad coughed, wincing and hissing as whiskey was poured on the wound.

"Wilmington," Dixon recalled, "Where is he?"

"Dead." Garrett replied, "I shoved my knife in him, just as the train blew. He's downstream somewhere. "Where is it?" He eyed the spot on the boat where the silver should be stacked.

"Already in California," the senior officer stated simply. "I'd guess ... "

"What?" Garrett's head flew up. "What do you mean?"

"We were set up. I'm guessing the President and Kent dreamed this up. They didn't tell anyone, hoping they'd catch us. They still might, we have to move quickly. The bullet?"

"Went right through," Garrett replied, flexing his arm as a bandage was applied. "What now?"

"Now we go home," the other answered, "Remaining here is suicide. By now, Larabee, Travis and Reinhardt will be arriving at the train."

"Weren't they supposed to ride the other way? What about the signal?"

"There wasn't any ... no matter, we have plenty. These rifles are the very best, an unexpected surprise. I don't want to be here when that brooding gunslinger finds what's left of his friends in that wreck. Let's go, Manual, Diego ... " He signaled the men, who got the boat moving.

"He's dead then?" Garrett's eyes gleamed in the moonlight, thinking of the agony he'd seen on Vin Tanner's face.

"Who?" Dixon asked, lighting a cigar. He handed one to his partner and then led him below. A meal was set out, complete with brandy.

"Tanner," Garrett replied, spearing a piece of ham.

"He looked it, I didn't check that well. He was kept prisoner in the silver car, it was damaged in the blast. Don't let this get personal, Brad, we can't afford one mistake."

Garrett said nothing, but vowed to get his revenge. If Tanner was hurt badly, he'd be in Fullerton awhile. It wasn't that far from the border. He buttered a biscuit and took a long drink of brandy. He'd bide his time and take care of unfinished business later. Hooper came quickly, where the horses were waiting. The rifles were loaded into false-bottomed wagons, covered with books, supplies and mining tools. Then, they began the road to San Paulo.

"Who's in charge?" Larabee asked, riding into a cluster of soldiers and farmers. A bald soldier stepped forward, "I'd guess that's me, I'm Sargeant Dixon."

"What happened?" Nate slid off his horse, immediately assessing the large number of injured.

"Somebody blew up the track, just as the first two cars went over. They all died ... some not so easy. Poor bastards were burning alive ... " he took a steadying breath and continued, "The sheriff's been alerted, he's wiring the neighboring towns for help. We got word to Fort Carlisle, they're sending tents, blankets and cots. We're using the wagons, these farmers donated, to take the bodies that are able to be moved to the church. The undertaker is lining up boxes in the yard up there. Uh ... there's a large spread of ground near the river. We got some cots and blankets over there, with injured folks. These people have been wonderful," he nodded to the gathering of poor farmers, who'd already brought all they had. Wagons full of food, bandages, cider, coffee and many other supplies were waiting. Women were at tables, setting up for a long night and many hungry workers. We only got three doctors, two on the train and one from town. It's not enough ... "

"Yuh got more help now," Nate stepped forward, seeing men carrying bodies to the designated treating area. He started forward, then remembered their missing friends. "Our friends, Tanner, Standish and Wilmington?"

"I ain't seen that big fella, he was in a state of mind, madder than the devil with no fiddle." Miller related.

"Why?" Chris finally spoke, his eyes going to Badger and Wallace, who were practically smirking. He moved in a flash, one steely arm gripping Badger's throat and slamming his hard against the side of the wagon. "That funny to you? People hurt and dead? Is it?"

"No!" Badger gasped, the irate eyes scalding him.

"Then you best open that hole of yours and talk to me!" Chris gritted through clenched teeth. "Why was Buck upset?"

" ... 'cause that hot-headed injun-lover tried to kill one of our men, we had to put him down."

"What?" Chris's face screwed up in contempt. The words 'put him down' skewered a hole inside. "You best make peace with your creator," he whispered in the cowering man's ear. "'cause if one hair on Vin Tanner's head is out of place and you were involved, that fat ass of yours will be taking a spot in the stone garden in town."

"He almost killed that boy."

Nathan stepped forward as a man with reddish hair and a cut on his face stepped forward. "I'm Doctor Miles Smith, I treated your friend."

"How bad?" Chris asked, without relinquishing his hold.

"Larabee, let him go," Miller suggested, an exercise in futility. "There were several witnesses. Tanner attacked a soldier unprovoked."

"That's not true," The doctor shook his head. "We have yet to get his side. I met that young man outside before he was brutally beaten. I was quite impressed with him. You have yet to produce this victim he attacked. He was unarmed, on his knees and already hurt when that animal used the rifle on his head. It was beyond unnecessary, it was brutality and bigotry at it's worst."

"Is that right?" the gunslinger's eyes turned to flint and Badger's bladder erupted. "You beat my friend in the head, when he was already on the ground?"

"He pulled a knife on that guy, he was going to kill him," Wallace interrupted. "We had to put him down."

"He's a man, not a dog and if you say that one more time, I'll put you the fuck down!" Chris snapped.

"Let him go, Chris, we gotta find Vin." Nate said quietly, his stomach turning, "Come on ... "

"Know this, you yellow-bellied son-of-a-bitch," Chris said quietly, leaning in close, "I keep my promises." With that he released the urine-tinted man and strode to where the doctor was standing.

"How bad was Vin hurt?" He asked, his eyes going to the bodies being carried out.

"He shouldn't have been moved. I told that officer ... uh ... Dixon ... to clear the dining car and leave him in there. I wanted to stay with him and tend to him. He turned me down and took that boy away, said he was a prisoner."

"Prisoner!" Nate turned to Miller, "Where is he? Where's Ezra?"

"With Tanner," he flinched, watching Larabee's icy eyes narrow. "he offered to stay, he didn't have to. The Colonel made it clear Tanner was the prisoner and needed to be locked up."

"He was severely injured, unconscious and bleeding badly. He was in no position to offer a threat." The doctor raged.

"Easy, Doc," Chris put his black gloved hand out on the other man's chest. He turned to the quivering commander. "Where's Vin and where's Dixon. I want to talk to him."

"I'll bet ... " Nate muttered, knowing the seething rage that boiled beneath the collection of black thread.

"The Colonel, he uh ... uh ... ordered Tanner to the silver car. I don't know where he went. The fancy talker went with him to look after him. It's got a number ten on the side."

"What about Buck?" Nate saw the color leave Larabee's face when he realized the car in question was not visible anymore. It was down the side of the overpass, where the smoke and carnage were at it's worst.

"I don't know," Miller shrugged.

"He was looking for the blond soldier, I heard him asking passengers about him," a young private offered.

"What blond soldier?" Chris turned to the nervous young man. "Relax, Kid, I'm not going to shoot you."

"Sorry, Sir, but you're awfully riled up." He swallowed and turned to his silent friend, "Dennis, ain't that the guy who took off ... "

"Yeah," the other one nodded. "We saw that blond guy come on the train after the water stop. He saw your friend from behind and smiled, like he knew him, you know?"

" ... and ... " Nate asked.

"That's all I saw. Later, Kenny seen him asking folks about that blond guy. He was really mad."

"Livid," The doctor replied, "and with good reason. He was shaken to the core, seeing that boy beaten. For a moment, we feared him dead."

"Come on Chris, we'll ask around, I want to find Vin." Nate urged, taking a lantern from the nearest wagon and lighting it.

"What are the figures?" General Reinhardt rode up, seeing the cluster of blue uniforms.

"Twelve dead," the Sargeant spoke, "that is, of the bodies we've located so far. There are close to fifty injured, about twenty of them badly. We need doctors, surgeons, medicine, bandages ... "

"Miller, come with me, I want a full report."

Chris and Nate moved quickly to the side of the road. A dozen men were using ropes attached to pulleys above to move the twisted metal and wood. They slipped by them, heading for the pile of smashed cars.

"There!" Nate called out, holding up a lantern. He skidded by his friend, seeing the gold number on the side. "VIN ... EZRA ... VIN!" He flew to the gaping hole in the side and stepped through holding up the light. He saw Ezra first, two dull green eyes stared at him, without blinking. "Ezra! How bad are you hurt? How's Vin?" He dropped to space between them, smiling in relief, when his shaking brown hand found a pulse on the silent tracker's neck. "He's alive Chris!" He let out a long breath, dropped his head and said a quick prayer.

Chris heard Nate, just as he stepped inside the car. Standish looked awful. He was a pale and not aware they were with him. He couldn't see Vin, a blanket covered most of him. Then he saw a slash of pink tinted black by soot. It was at his chest level. Frowning, he touched it and found skin. "What the fuck?" he hissed in horror, when he realized the pink thing in his hand was Vin's naked foot.

"Christ!" Nate jumped when the gun went off. "Why didn't yuh warn me!" He turned and saw the look of absolute horror and cold hatred in the green eyes, the black glove held the remnants of the manacle. Vin's leg hit the ground with a dull thump.

"Nathan?" Chris dropped to Vin's side, pulling off the blanket. Dark maroon stains covered the filthy bandage on his head. His skin was pale and he was cold to the touch. Chris pulled his glove off, needing to feel Vin to be sure. His hand jerked back, when it came in contact with the clammy skin. "He's cold."

"He's in shock, Ezra too. They need cleanin', tendin' and get warmed up." He turned to the southerner, whose hand was locked onto Vin's shirt. "Ez, give 'im up, I got him. Ez, let go ... shit ... " he sighed, snapping his fingers in front of the muddled, jade eyes.

"Move," Chris slid past the healer and and reached into the gambler's pocket, where his money belt was hidden. The arm moved and the derringer came up, at the same time the eyes blinked.

"Mis..tah ... Lara..bee?"

"You okay, Ezra?" Chris asked, seeing only one arm working. "Put away your peashooter!"

"I'm afraid our valiant tracker has been injured." The voice was faraway and the eyes still distant. "They beat him ... Mister ... Chris?"

"Yeah, Ezra, I'm still here." He reassured, the confused stare, "Can you stand?"

"I think not," Ezra spoke slowly, shaking his head. He reached out and felt the muscle under the black arm on the wall next to his head. "You are real ... ly ... here? I thought ... I ... didn't know ... "

"It's alright, Ezra," Nathan smiled, handing Chris a silver flask. "His coat was under Vin's head, that was inside."

"Here," Chris ordered, handing the flask to the injured man. He saw Ezra wince several times and noted how stiffly he was sitting. "How about we get you outside? Nate can check you out?"

"Vin is injured," Standish maintained.

"Yeah, we know. Yuh took real good care of 'im." The ex-union medic attested.

"What happened Ezra?" Chris asked, holding Vin upright and supporting him from behind, as Jackson checked his legs, arms and chest. The silent sharpshooter remained sleeping, resting against the strong chest.

"I'm sorry for not being coherent when you arrived," the recovered man blushed. "I was to remain alert ... "

"Christ, Ezra, it's us," Chris grimaced, "Who the hell are you sorry to?"

"Thank you," the southerner warmed, still overwhelmed to find them here. "There was a blond soldier with piercing blue eyes, a pretty boy, you would say. He was behind Vin, said something to him, for his ears only." He stopped, his eyes filled as he recalled Vin's painful testimony.

"He told yuh?" Nate guessed, seeing the other man swallow hard. "His ribs are broken, Chris, nuthin' else."

"Other than his head!" The blond snapped, only slightly comforted by the tracker's warm breath hitting his arm. "Vin had history with the blond guy?"

"He did, the vile creature's name is Garrett." Ezra paused again, killed the remainder of the bourbon and eyed his unconscious friend. "He was the animal ... in the village when Vin was a youth ... "

"Shit!" Chris hissed, still seeing Vin's painful recollection and how scarred he remained.

"I'm afraid it gets worse, the young lady in question, was Vin's adopted sister."

"Oh my God," Nathan's shoulders slumped as he held the limp Texan's hand. "I'm sorry, Vin," he added quietly, taking the pulse. "He's not good, Chris, I gotta get him warmed up."

"Buck?" Ezra said, head snapping up, "Is he with you, perchance?"

"No, do you know where he is?" Chris asked, easing Vin forward toward the tall healer, who supported him. He gently folded Vin over Nate's shoulder, then turned to Ezra.

"He took off after that beast. He was quite upset. He overheard Garrett in the depot at the water stop. He wired a 'red dog' in San Paulo, stating that a 'gray wolf and the pack' would be on time."

"Sounds like we found our rat," Chris shook his head in disgust, "Let's go Ezra, you're next."

"I am unable to move."

"You can't stay here!" Chris was impatient now, needing to find Buck. He bent down and tugged at Standish, not hearing Nate's cross voice, which was drowned out by Ezra's scream.

"Leave him!" Nate screamed, "His back's hurt, didn't yuh hear him? I'll get Vin settled. Yuh stay with him in here."

"Jesus, Ezra, I'm sorry," Chris dropped down, not sure how to help. The fine features of the handsome gambler were locked in pain. Sweat poured down his face. Chris pulled out his kerchief and offered it over.

"Here, you're sweating like a bull,"

"A gentlemen ... never ... sweats ... " Standish clenched over the roaring fire in his back.

"Like I said, " Chris grinned, sat down and pulled up a bottle of whiskey that was on the floor. "You're sweating," he took a swig and handed it over.

"After the explosion, Dixon arrived, looking for the silver."

"Dixon!" Chris sneered, "Wonder how many rats we're gonna catch?"

"There was no silver and he was quite upset. They took the rifles and left to meet a boat. From there they were journeying to Hooper to take the long road to Mexico."

"No silver?" Chris took and walked across the car, stepping over broken glass and rubble. He dropped down, picking up a handful of rocks. He crushed one in his glove, his green eyes glowing like coals. "Cannon fodder ... those fuckers used us like a cheap whore."

"Nicely stated," Ezra agreed, taking a piece of mint and examining it carefully, before eating it. He saw Chris studying him with a strange look. "Mister Tanner bequeathed these to me. His prized chocolates." He sighed again, carefully folding the tattered bag and staring at it. "It was all he had ... he gave them to me. He spent his last few bits of silver on these before we left. He said he was saving them ... "

"I'll bet he didn't fork over one stinkin' piece of silver," Larabee heard voices and two soldiers appeared in the opening, bearing a stretcher. He knelt next to the dazed, pained conman. "Two blushes, a shrug, that shit-eatin' grin and a couple Ma'ams, I'd say." He tried to take the paper sack, only to be repelled by an irate, indignant southern voice "He gave them to me!"

"Well then put them away before the roll all over the damn floor!" Chris growled, rose and shook his head. "Goddamn, sorry-assed, blue-eyed devil." He picked up Vin's coat and held onto it, before climbing outside. He heard Ezra cry out in pain and almost charged back inside. Then he saw them talking to the injured man, before easing him onto the canvas stetcher. As Ezra was carried past him, the wind kicked up, sending the sickening sweet smell passed him. His mind formed a picture of Buck, laughing and grinning a beer in one hand and a woman in the other. A pain formed in his chest as another image came. Of Buck's body severed in the wreckage, impaled to a piece of iron, burned alive in the first car or blown to pieces. He dropped his head, took his hat off and wiped the sweat clinging to his hair and face.

"Where are you, Buck?" he whispered, crushed his hat to his chest and took a deep breath, before following the stretcher.

At Fort Carlisle, Az

The nearly deserted infirmary got smaller with every step the dusty boots took. The motion was the same. Front, side, back side ... covering the room in a precise pattern. At the end of the square, he'd pause, twirl his bowler hat on his hand, blow out an air of frustration and begin to pace again. As he covered the room, the short words in the wire danced in his head. Train blown up and robbed near Fullerton. Send help to the river. It had been hours without an update. Was Buck alive? What about Ezra and Vin? If one of them were guarding the silver ... they could have been hurt or worse. He reverie was cut short by an irate, unsteady and weary voice.

"You ponder any 'quieter' and I'm gonna have to shoot you, Boy."

"Josiah!" he blurted, a guilty wash on his face. He'd been waiting for hours for the preacher to rouse. He moved across the room and poured a mug of water for the injured man. "You should be resting."

" ... was trying to do just that. Some fool let the whole calvary march around the room ... over and over again."

"Sorry," J.D. flushed, sat down and eyed the strain on the older man's face. "You hungry?"

"It the Pope a Catholic?" He eased his large frame upright, resting against the back of the small bed. He rested his eyes, winced against the pain raging in his shoulder and jerked again as the door slammed.

"Sorry!" J.D. repeated, setting a tray down in front of the eldest. "It's chicken stew and apple pie and some kind of herbal tea." He paused, as the smokey gray eyes rose to study his face. The free hand came up, fingers wiggling. "I feel the need for a libation."

"You sound like Ezra," J.D. shook his head, "Sorry, I don't have any." He watched the hand make several trips from the bowl to the mouth. "Speaking of Ezra ... this wire came a few hours ago." He propped it up against the tea mug and waited.

"Nothing since?" Josiah asked, having witnessed a wreck and all too familiar with the gory results.

"No ... " He jumped up, pacing the room again, while raking a hand through his dark hair.

" ... that why you're wearing a rut in that floor?" he asked, resuming his meal.

"How can you be so calm!" Dunne accused, "That's Vin, Buck and Ezra..they could be dead!"

" ... and getting hysterical won't bring them back. It's too dark to leave now. All them miles you put on your boots must have you worn down by now. You get to sleep, we'll leave at first light."

"We!" J.D. shook his head. "You can't go ... Nathan will kill me. I promised him I'd take care of you. You're older and wiser. What kind of advice is that?"

"Divine Intervention," Sanchez grinned wearily, sliding the pie over "Go get some milk and finish this. I only got one arm working and if you keel off a horse in the middle of the desert, I'm gonna have to leave you behind."

"This is just great!" Dunne muttered, walking over to the mess area, where the food was kept. "Either way I lose." He poured a large mug of milk and returned to the infirmary. He settled down, put a fork into the pie and shook his head. "Sometimes, Josiah, it stinks being the youngest."

"I wouldn't know, Son," the graying man laughed, ruffled the boy's dark locks and eased his aching body back down. "I don't have any working parts that are young. Turn that lamp down when you're done. It'll help me get to sleep faster, before you start snoring."

"I don't snore!" the embarrased youth blurted, eyes flaming when the other man raised on eyebrow and grinned rakishly. "Well, I don't ... just ask ... ask ... " he thrust his chest out bravely, his voice was as smug as the chin jutting out. "You just ask Camille, she'll tell you."

"Camille?" Josiah's somber deep voice matched his stoic face.

"She's a friend," J.D. returned.

"Must be a good one, if she can't hear you snoring." He saw the boy's face flood with color and nodded wisely. "Oh ... .she's that kind of friend." He waited, eased his body down and let his eyes shut. "You must be the 'Boston Bullet' she mentioned."

"Bullet?" J.D. frowned, realizing what the straight-faced teaser meant. "Very funny, Preacher. Ha ha ... " He sat on the cot next to Josiah, took his boots and coat off and turned the lamp down. Then he laid back, arms folded behind his head. "Just for the record, I did okay. She even said so ... "

"Not to worry, Son," Sanchez goaded, "Your secret is safe with me." He closed his eyes and tried to fall back to sleep. The tea was strong and he felt himself falling off. Just as the sandman dusted his face, the troubled voice interrupted.

"What if they're dead?"

"What if they are?" The wise man replied.

"I can't think of what it would be like without them. I don't know if I could stay in town ... I'd keep seeing the spots where they should be. Vin sipping coffee at sunrise in the rocker by the Clarion, Ezra tipping his hat every morning and seeing that stupid gold tooth ... Buck ... " he choked off the rest. Life without Buck?

"That's the chance we take every day out here J.D." He added, yawning as the drugged tea took hold. "These western territories are wild. Every time you step into the saloon, or ride out with a posse ... might be your last."

"Yeah, but ... somehow this feels different. It wouldn't be the same without Buck, Ezra or Vin. Vin owes me ten dollars ... " He heard Josiah chuckle and cursed quietly, " I didn't mean that ... it slipped out."

"I know, J.D." He closed his eyes. "It wouldn't be the same without you either. This band of brothers we've come to embrace strengthens us each individually and together creates a rather formidible force. I've learned a lot from each one of you. That growth, those daily lessons, the laughter and the tears, is what sets us apart. You can't live your life wrapped in cotton tucked in a box, safe and sound."

"I couldn't go back East, now," Dunne admitted, "It's in my blood, the taste of it ... smell of it ... " he exuded of his new life in the wild frontier town. "I couldn't live without it ... "

"You talkin' about us or Miss Camille?"

"Shup up, Josiah!" he laughed, rolling onto his side. "Goodnight, Preacher ... and thanks."

"Goodnight Young Master Bullet," he chided, "and your welcome."

A few minutes of silence settled into the room, before J.D.'s voice rose in the dark.

"Josiah, you were just kidding, right?" He asked, "She didn't really say that ... did she. God what if she tells Buck ... " he worried, eyeing the bulky figure in the dark. "Josah? Josiah?" Although he couldn't swear to it and it was possible the injured man was asleep, somewhere in the darkness he envisioned the large man grinning evilly.

Raking his cool green eyes across the rubble, the leader felt his chest clench. Unconsciously, he scutinzined every severed limb littered on the ground. He wondered about the corpses already headed to the churchyard. He shook his head, trying to get Buck's warm, contagious laugh out of his ears.

"Damn you, Wilmington!" He whispered on the wind, eyeing the starfield above. He walked ahead, saw Nathan speaking to a weary man with a Bible and strode over.

"I'm Reverend Jacob Foster," he shook the offered hand.

"What's the setup?" Nate asked, "I'm Nathan Jackson, I can help."

"Are you a doctor?" The other man said in surprise.

"No, Sir," he shook his head, "I was assigned to one during the war, I learned a lot then and afterwards. I can set bones, dig out bullets and stuff, tend to fevers, draw out infections, do stitchin' ... "

"Can you treat burns?"

"Yes, Sir, I sure can,"

"Praise God!" The older man sighed, "I'm afraid it will be hours before more help arrives. That group over there, poor souls, are dying. They are injured too grievously to be helped. We gave them what little morphine Doctor Wesley from town had on hand. He's the tall man, with the gray hair," he pointed to a man doing surgery on a wooden table. "The young man with the dark hair was on the train, he's a doctor from St. Louis, Charles London. There is a surgeon ... red hair ... "

"Miles Smith," Chris recalled, "we met him ... "

"He's a skilled man, and has the unfortunate task of cutting several men free. Their limbs are crushed and in order to remove them from the wreckage, amputation is necessary."

"Sweet Jesus!" Nate shuddered, "What can I do?"

"As I said, those poor souls are in God's hands, I'm tending to them with my wife. The two doctors have tables set up from the dining car. Unfortunately, there are too many waiting for surgery. That area," he held out his hand, "are those not requiring operations. They need stitches, bones set, some are unconscious, most have burns and are in alot of pain." He paused to take a breath, "Once they are treated and stable, we have wagons to take them to town. As luck would have it, we had a hotel shut down a few weeks back. It's being readied for their arrival."

"Chris," Nate was torn, he wanted to find Buck but felt he was needed here as well.

"Go on, Nate, they need you. I'll find Buck."

"Where do you want him, Doc?" a young man bearing the end of Standish's stretcher asked Nate. He pointed to the empty cot next to Vin. A large, crude tent, made of sheets and linens tied together was strung over a cluster of trees. Several cots were lined up beneath. One pale Texan was sleeping on the end. "I'll be right over, Mister Foster," Nate nodded, "I need to check on my friends first."

"It's Jacob and Thank You, Nathan!"

Chris followed Nate to the cot, immediately hovering over Vin. "How is he?"

"Unconscious." The other replied, cleaning Ezra's face. A small cut on the top of his forehead was cleaned. It wouldn't require any stitches. The shoulder was dislocated and he shoved it back in place. "Gimme a hand here ... Chris!" he called out, snapping the green eyes from their daze. "Hold Ezra up, I want to get his shirt off." He waited until the body was on the other side of the cot, supporting the now unconscious man. His gifted fingers ran alone the other man's spine, from the neck to the tail. "Don't feel like it's broke ... let's give a ... "

"Nate?" Chris shifted Ezra, elicting a small moan, when the other man fell silent. "What is it?"

"Take a look!" Nate said quietly, easing Ezra onto his belly.

"Damn!" the blond's lip curled up, spotting a mass of purple, black and red bruising that covered the entire mass of the other's back. He watched Nate's fingers moving carefully along every inch of the marred flesh. "Can I help?"

"See if yuh can find some hot water ... and towels ... that'll take the pain away. I got some laudenum t'give 'im when he rouses. He's all twisted up under here, feels likes he pulled his muscles but good. He's gonna be sore as hell. Won't be walkin' much. I think he might have a concussion too." He tossed the shirt, vest and jacket to the side, the paper sack fell out.

"Christ, whatever you do, don't lose his damn chocolate." He stuffed the bag in the scarlett jacket. The lantern that Nate had was on a tree stump next to Vin's cot. He returned carefully carrying a bucket of hot water, with a long piece of linen cloth inside. Ezra was on his belly, covered to the neck with a blanket. Chris saw Nate over further, treating a child covered in burns. For a moment, the tiny cries in the night brought back memories of his own child suffering. He flinched, released a shuddering breath and sat the bucket down. Gingerly, he peeled the blanket back and set the hot, wet cloth on the injured man's back. The green eyes shot open and a moan of pleasure escaped.

"There is a God in heaven ... " Ezra oozed, soaking up the warmth. The hot liquid embraced his tender flesh like a lusty lover. The great roar in his left arm was much duller now, no doubt the healer's quick wrist fixed that. He tested his legs, grateful that they moved, despite the pain in his back. He glanced past the black clothed leg by his face, to see a hint of Texan's profile. Beneath the bulky, clean head bandage, the fine features were very pale and much to still. "Vin?" he whispered, trying to see a sign of something written in the leader's tense face.

"Nothing yet," Chris said, holding up a cup of water. "Here," he held up the damp, chesnut head and supported it, so the injured southerner could drink.

"It's water," Ezra's face crinkled a moment, after he drank.

Chris laughed and took the towel, quickly dunking it in the hot water again, wringing it out and placing it on bruised back. "Nate don't think you broke anything, just twisted up muscles. Careful of the arm, he shoved it back in place. You banged your head, so you stay put."

"What is that smell?" Ezra's nose turned up.

"Death," Chris whispered in the acrid breeze, eyeing the horror beyond the hill.

"That's funny, I would have wagered it was vomit."

"Huh?" The leader blinked and heard gagging. "Shit, Vin!" He moved quickly, turning the choking man over his arm and over the cot in one fluid motion. "Easy Vin ... you're okay."

Somewhere above the axe in his skull and the pain in his stomach was a voice. Between the spasms and praying for God to take him, he tried to hear the voice. Throwing up was bad enough, but the fire from the broken ribs and the slamming of the axe in his brain, made it unbearable. Following the agony of dry heaves, he panted for what seemed like forever. He was hot, hurting like hell and nearly upside down. He struggled weakly, as a hand with a cloth covered his face, givings orders. He complied and continued to wiggle weakly. The nightmare came back, full of blue soldiers.

" ... get m'gun ... warnin' ya ... devils ... let ... me ... up ... "

Chris's small laugh was born out of need. The need to hear that crusty voice. The need to know Vin was going to live. The need to feel the old wound inside remain healed. He eased the angry Texan upright, catching a wavering fist as it went airborne.

"Cut that out!" he warned, gripping Vin across the chest from behind and offering a canteen with his free hand. "Rinse and then drink."

"I ain't no child t'be ordered 'round." Vin hissed in a daze. "Get offa me ... where the hell am I? Where's m'gun ... "

"Don't make me shoot you, Tanner, I've had a bitch of a day!"

Vin opened his mouth to protest and was about to shut it, when the canteen was shoved between his lips. He took a drink, half swallowed it and realized who was speaking to him. The canteen shot out his mouth too fast, causing the axe in his skull to jump up and down. He pushed backward, trying to escape the pain and hit a wall of muscle. He felt the hand on his chest ease up and the other clamp on his shoulder. The voice came back, but this time he welcomed it. He snaked a hand up covering the arm on his chest. It wasn't his best grip, but he gave it all he had. He gasped for several minutes, until the worst wave subsided. The swirling ground stopped flying past him and his stomach quit twisting around.

"Better?" Chris asked, feeling the stiffening body begin to relax. The mangled head dipped once, but the hand remained locked on his arm. "You scared the shit outta me, Vin. I figure that's good for at least one bottle."

Vin managed half a smile at the tightness in the voice and found his own. "Ya figgered wrong ... ya cheap bastard ... " Through the blurry copse of trees, he saw cots, bodies and heard cries of pain. He frowned, trying to place where he was. "What's goin' on?"

"We're by the river, several miles outside Fullerton," Chris said, easing his arm from Vin's grasp and moving to replace the cold towel on Ezra's back. "Dixon and Garrett and maybe some others, we don't know yet, blew up the train. There was no silver, the safe was empty."

Vin didn't hear anything after the word Garrett. The blond's leering face retuned, grinning at him in animalistic delight as he tortured his sister. His whole body trembled in fury, his fists curled up and he tried to stand, only to land on his hands and knees. A string of furious curses was followed by a set of arms hauling him back on the cot.

" ... let me ... go ... git outta m'way ... I'm gonna find that bastard ... send him t'hell ... ya ain't stoppin' me and ... and ... neither is them fuckin' bluebellies ... I'm goin' ... "

"No, you're not!" Chris said in a voice so slow, low and precise, it halted every word on the tracker's irate tongue. He turned his face up, meeting the clear, intense green stare of the man kneeling in front of him. "You're gonna keep your ungrateful ass on this cot until Nathan or one of the other doctor's releases you. You're gonna take every order, every drop of medicine and eat whatever they give you. You give Nathan as much as one wrong look, I'll make you pay."

"Chris, ya can't tell me what t'do ... " Vin started to whisper, only to be cut off.

"Shut up and listen!" Larabee hissed, grinding all the fingers of both hands into Vin's bare shoulders. "Let me tell you about my night. I heard an explosion and raced the wind to get here, thinking I'd find bits and pieces of you three hanging from every tree. Then, we stopped on the top of hill and I hope to God you never have to see a sight like that. Heads with no bodies, legs lying loose, an arm with a hand still on the door handle ... " he paused, swallowed and took a breath. "Oh, lucky us, the wind shifted and the smell came ... of burning bodies. See those poor bastards," he jerked his head and made Vin look, "Look at them, Vin, they got no hope. They're in God's hands now. That preacher is giving them some peace before they die. Those men," he turned his head again, "have two pairs of hands and need twenty, to fix all the mangled bodies on those blankets. Then there's Doctor Smith, remember him, he spoke with you outside" he saw the head nod once, the eyes drowning in guilt "Right now, that man is inside that wreck, hacking the legs off some poor bastard whose trapped. That's what he'll be doing tonight. Then, there's Nathan Jackson, he's that tall man, over there ... "

"I know that!" Vin snapped, easily seeing the dark head over a cot.

"Shut up, I'm not done yet!" Chris raged, tired and angry and worried; all his nerves long fried. "He hasn't had any rest all day. The stage they were on got robbed, Josiah got shot ... he's fine," he answered the blue riddle in the eyes before it was airborne, "He rode through the desert to warn us then we rode here. There won't be any sleep for him tonight, he's got dozens of bodies to patch up. Stitches to sew, bones to set and burns to tend. You ever see someone burned badly Vin? Really bad, when their skin in falling off ... and they're screaming in agony? I have, it's no picnic! So, you're gonna keep your ass on this cot and not say a fuckin' word. You're gonna respect him that much. You're gonna rest and take whatever ditchwater he makes you drink. Because it's gonna be long in the day tomorrow before he gets to rest." He paused, the admiration in his voice rising as he watched the gentle healer comforting a small child. " ... and a helluva lot longer than that before he can sleep without remembering ... reliving ... " He sighed again, rubbed his damp hair and turned back to the quiet tracker. "What he doesn't need is to be sewing you back together, because you got some fool idea of riding hurt in the desert. You understand now?" Vin said nothing, just swallowed hard and nodded. Chris released him then, flinching as he saw the red marks his fingers left in the tracker's flesh. He took a swig from the canteen and offered to Vin, who took a small sip. " ... and because I can't worry about you riding off and breaking your fool neck ... when I gotta find ... find ... B ... Buck ... "

Vin's head shot up as the word quivered, wavered and nearly died on the tense Larabee lips. "Buck!" he blurted, "Aw, hell ... I'm sorry ... I didn't think ... aw, shit, not Bucklin ... "

"He's not dead!" Chris jerked back, annoyed at the inference. " ... he's ... missing. I'm going to find him. I ... Vin?" He moved, just as the slim body tilted, nearly falling off the cot. He tried to ease him back, but the tangled head shook.

"Wait ... " Vin panted, watching the gunslinger's black legs fly past several times. "I don't know ... where t'go ... head feels better down but hurts m'ribs ... wait ... gimme a minute ... "

"Okay," Chris eyed a roll of blankets nearby and left Vin long enough to get them. He placed the high roll behind the injured man, turned him gently and laid him back. This angle left him three-quarters upright and a comfortable place to rest his head. The small groan and deep breath told him he succeeded. He gave Vin's shoulder a pat and turned to go, but a hand snagged his forearm. "Ya tell Buck ... ya tell that rowdy skirt chaser ... ya tell 'im ... " Vin's voice wavered, not willing to see what Chris may find. Buck's body charred in the wreckage ... or worse ... a piece of Buck on the road.

"Yeah," Chris said roughly, seeing the agony in the Texan's features. He knew how much Vin cared for Buck Wilmington. "I'll tell him, you look after Ezra, okay? Don't let him cheat the bible off of that preacher."

"Watch yer back!" Vin said, fighting hard to stay awake. "Chris ... I'm ... sor ... "

"I already know you're a sorry-assed Texan," the other teased, as the eyes shut and the mouth fell open, letting the raspy breath out. He pulled two blankets high on Vin, covering him to the neck. He covered Ezra and let him a full canteen. Then he caught Nate's eye and jerked his head, making his intentions known. For two hours, he went through the wreck, pulling out bodies, helping move the wounded and dead, before he realized Buck wasn't there. He thought of the bodies crushed in the first two cars, already incinerated. He felt a pain in his chest, not believing that his kind-hearted friend was slowly roasted to death. He took a break and headed for the food table. He spotted a jug of cider on the nearest table and headed for it. Sitting down might have been a mistake, as fatigue gripped him hard. He leaned back against a tree, drew both knees up and rested his head against the bark. He was breathing heavy from overexertion, his muscles sore and hands raw from scrapping against torn wood, iron and glass. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as the breeze kicked up. He sensed a female presense near, the scent of cinnamon and lavender wafted by. Then a cold cloth wiped his face and it felt great. He opened his eyes, spotting a middle-aged woman with kind brown eyes.

"Thanks ... "

"You're welcome. Can I get you anything?"

"Uh ... any cider left?"

"Sure, hold on." She returned and handed him a cold mug, along with a sandwich.

"Thanks, you didn't have to go to any trouble."

"You've been working for hours, and you need your strength. It's not fancy, just some jam on poppy seed bread."

"It tastes like steak to me!" Chris grinned, "Thanks, Miss ... "

"Mrs. James Coates ... .Hannah."

"Are you from Fullerton?" He guessed, recalling the preacher speaking of the locals who arrived to help.

"No, my husband and I were on the train. Our youngest son just started college in San Francisco. We visited him, then our married son in San Diego ... they had a baby last year. " She paused, her eyes filling. "We were headed back home to Missouri ... "

"Is he helping with rescue," Chris swallowed the last half of the sandwich and took a large gulp of cider.

"No, he's dead, he was crushed." She blurted, then realized her mistake. The young man before her choked on his food. He coughed for several minutes, before jumping to his feet. "I'm sorry ... I'm sorry ... I don't know why it came out that way. I've been trying to keep busy ... pushing it away. I think ... I'm afraid to go to sleep. We married when I was seventeen. I've never awakened alone ... Oh dear ... " She finally broke, having fought the tears all night. "I'm sorry ... " She shook all over, finally surrendering into the young man's embrace. "I don't know what to do ... how to go on ... he was my life."

Chirs took a deep breath, steadied himself and finally pulled her back. He handed her the clean cloth the sandwich was wrapped in, to dry her tears. "You take it one day at a time. You keep the best of him in here," he tapped his own chest. " ... and you hug that new grandchild for all it's worth ... .and those boys of yours. He'll live on in them."

"Thank you, Mister ... " She composed herself, eyeing the handsome blond man. Something in those green eyes told her he had been down this road before.

"It's Chris, and I'm so sorry about your loss."

"I know, Son," She used the cloth to wipe away a lingering smudge of soot on his cheek. "It's written in every line of sweat on your face. We're you on the train? Did you lose someone too?"

"Three of my friends were on board," he said huskily, thinking on Buck's broad smile. "Two were hurt ... I'm still looking for the other. "

"You'll find him," she squeezed his hand and urged him to sit down. "I'll pray for his safe return. Rest now ... "

He sipped the remainder of the cider slowly, resting his eyes and wondering were to look next. But a conversation nearby caused him to wak up fast. He turned, hearing a small boy mention a familiar name.

"What did you say, Son?" he asked the tall boy, about ten.

"I wanted to know about Mister Standish, I found him." He paused, "I been askin' all the workers if they seen him. He talks funny and has a bright red coat. He was in one of the cars that went over the side."

"I'm his friend, Chris Larabee," he shook the boy's hand, "Found him when?"

"Right after the accident. Me and Matt saw it happen. We saw them bad soldiers stealing the boxes. They sure were mad when rocks fell out. They loaded stuff onto a wagon and headed out to the river. That's when I ran down the hill and peeked inside. I saw him then, Mister Standish. I saw that guy with no head. That got my stomach to jumpin'"

"I'm sure it did," the blond sympathsized. "Did you tell anybody you saw this?" Chris asked, leading the boy away from the nearby bluecoats. He was worried for the lad's safety.

"Just my Pa and the sheriff. They said not to tell nobody, until we figure it out."

"You do just that. Do you talk to Ezra?"

"Not for long, he said it wasn't safe, for me to go get my Pa and get help. I gave him the lantern, some food and water. He was awful worried about his friend. Them bad soldiers hurt him."

"I know," Chris nodded, "Ezra is going to be fine, he's over by the river, where the doctor's are. So is Vin."

"I'm glad," the boy nodded. "My and my brother watch the train come by every day. After today, I ain't so sure I want to see it come by again. It was awful hard on my eyes."

"Yeah," Chris ruffled the boy's hair, "It'll get better."

"I hope so, we thought seein' the fight was excitin' ... then to have the train blow up ... "

"Fight?" Chris paused, furrowing his sandy brows, "What fight?"

"On top of the train!" the boy gushed, eyes lit up, "You should have seen it, Mister. It sure was somethin'. First a soldier with yellow hair ran on the top of the car. Then a big guy with black hair and a long tan coat followed. They shot at each other and then wrestled and then the train blew up and they shot clear into the sky!"

"Where!" Chris said loudly, gripping the boy's shoulders.

"Near Queen's Cut ... over the river."

The river! Chris gripped the boy's shoulders and gave a solid tug. "Thanks, Son. Can you do me a favor? If you find Mister Standish, you tell him I think I know where Buck is. Okay?"

"Sure," the boy replied, washing the anxious man run to a large, black horse.

Vaulting onto the steed in one fluid motion, he took off, his defeated hopes rising again. It was a flicker, but fighting to burst into light. Maybe, just maybe, Buck Wilmington wasn't dead! He rode to the edge of the dark river and got off the horse. He peered into the night, his keen eyes adjusting to the smothering darkness. Then he saw a bulk on the otherwise flat surface. Faith shot a flame through him, urging his leaden legs to run. A part of him didn't want to recognize the coat, body and then the mustache. The body was too still ... his eyes couldn't detect the chest rising. He dropped down, laying his raw, cut and sore hand on the other man's neck.

"God ... " he jerked back, is stiff numb fingers not working. He knew every line in the stilled face. Hell, he was there when half of them were earned! But this body was cold ... too cold ... He gripped the limp hand, which was like ice.

"B ... b ... u ... c ... k ... " he whispered, almost reverently, gripping the side of the icy flesh on the rogue's neck. He drew him up, holding the body against him, clenching his eyes shut and feeling a shudder of pain rip into him. Then he got mad. "Goddammit to hell, Buck ... You and your fuckin' stories about dying nobly ... being a good looking corpse." His voice broke and his painful fingers raked through the dark head nestled on his shoulder.

" ... bet ... ter ... look..in' ... than ... y ... y..ou ... S..s ... t ... ud ... "

"Buck!" he pulled the body back and saw two slits were eyes should be. "Jesus ... " he gasped, embracing him again and sighing hard. "Christ between you and Vin, I am going be the good looking corpse."

"Vin ... " Buck fretted, recalling the bloody body he left. " ... dead ... bastards ... hurt ... im ... I ... I ... "

"No, he's alive, Ezra too." Chris laid him down and Took his duster off, covering the damp body. Buck was shivering uncontrollably now, the effects of the river, the injury and something else. Then he brushed against a bulky object in the rogue's thigh and the other man screamed in pain. "What!" he spun his eyes downward. "Oh fuck," he spotted the hilt of the knife. "I can't take that out, you'll bleed like a pig."

" ... Nate ... here ... "

"Yeah, back at the camp. They got some doctor's too and a surgeon." He eyed the horse down the road. "I have to leave you for a moment and get the horse. Okay?"

"C ... r ... is ... " Buck whispered painfully, not able to open his eyes. He wasn't dead but damn close. He knew the cold in his bones was not just from the river. "Vin ... I ... pro ... mis..ed ... him ... watch ... back ... protect ... I fucked..up. I'm sor ... ry ... " he groaned, reeling and dizzy. " ... you ... tell ... him ... "

"Like hell I will!" Chris snapped, jerking the damp collar hard. "Don't you get any ideas about checking out," he clearly heard the intent and felt the fear. He also knew death was still a very real possibility. "You tell Vin yourself." He left the wounded man only long enough to get his horse. With great difficulty and a little help from Buck, they managed to get on the horse. He held Buck's limp body against his own, feeling the life seeping away. Then he turned, kneed the sides of the great animal and rode for help.

Part Five

Time lost all meaning during the endless stream of bodies that needed tending. Finally, Nathan got relief. Two doctors arrived from the nearby towns of Redding and Gold Creek. He'd just finished setting a broken arm and stitching up a young man, when he accepted a sandwich and mug of coffee. He didn't taste the food, he was too weary. He finished up, sighed and rose wearily, heading over to check on Vin and Ezra.

He saw a cat-like reflection of gold illuminated in the gambler's eyes in the lamplight. He found a tired smile, at the naked concern shining clearly on Vin Tanner. To his surprise, the injured conman was sitting up, wrapped in a blanket, sipping on a steaming mug of liquid.

"How yuh feelin'?" He sat on the tree stump by the conman and studied his eyes. Flickers of pain and tension lined the handsome man's face, but not at bad as before.

"I'm alive," Ezra replied quietly, thinking on those who had not fared as well. "Shouldn't he rouse?"

"Head injuries are tricky ... " Nathan stood and moved over to Vin, taking his pulse and respiration. "He's breathin' good, no fever ... no blood from his ears or nose ... " The Texan stirred beneath his touch, shivering in the cool night air. "Yuh cold, Vin?" he asked, waiting until a single blue eye opened, winking up at him.

"Nate?" Vin croaked, head pounding and stomach swirling. "Ya look awful ... "

"I'm jus' tired," he smiled at the raspy concerned voice, "How yuh doin', Vin?" He sat on the edge of the cot, holding a mug of water to the other man's lips. At first it was denied, the pale face turned away. "Yuh gotta drink ... maybe eat a little ... "

"Wouldn't stay put ... " Vin declined, then gave in, seeing the stern brown eyes directed on him. He sipped the cool water slowly and prayed it would stay down. His tender ribs couldn't stand another attack.

"I have some soup," Ezra offered of the nearly full mug offered by a volunteer. He started to stand, but his back protested.

"Yuh stay put!" Nathan barked, "Yuh finish that, I'll get Vin some soup. When yuh done, I want yuh on that belly, I'll put another hot towel ... "

"Chris!" Vin hollered, sitting up too quickly and jumping to his feet. Had Nate not been next to him and grabbed him, he would have fallen. "Buck ... .ya found Bucklin ... is he alive?"

"Sit down and stay down!" the tired healer ordered, shoving the tangled tracker's limbs back onto a cot. He covered him up with another blanket and shot a warning glance at the gambler, who was also attempting to rise. "Ezra! I'll use a rope if I hafta!"

"Nate!" Chris hollered, his tired eyes relieved to see both Vin and Ezra doing a little better. He waited until the tall ex-slave was at his side. He didn't miss the horrified expression in the soulful brown eyes, as they locked onto the knife in the rogue's thigh.

"That's a calvary knife," Nate observed, noting the bloody arm as well. He eyed the free table near the area where he'd been treating burns and broken bones. "There ... " he jerked his head, holding Buck, until Chris got down. Between the two of them, they got the injured man to the converted table. It had been holding food and supplies, now gone. Twin pairs of hands worked in tandem, stripping the layers of soggy clothes off the fevered man. Thick wool blankets covered him, as Nathan did a quick exam. "The bullet needs to come out ... It don't feel to deep. He's got a good fever buildin' ... he's breathin' ain't good."

"What about that?" Chris wiped Buck's damp face and eyed the knife.

"That needs a surgeon, that's way beyond what I can do. One wrong move and he could bleed t'death." He doused Buck's arm with soap and water, then moved to the black kettle nearby, which held medical tools in hot water. "I'm gonna get that lead ball out, it's givin' him that fever. See if yuh can find that Doctor Smith we met ... "

"Okay," He eased Buck down and took off toward the train, pausing briefly to give Vin and Ezra a nod. "He's alive ... " He hollered over to the two worried men.

"He'd better be," Ezra groaned, "he is in arrears of ten dollars from a wager ... " He stood and bit back a wave of pain shooting up his back and gingerly took baby steps toward Vin's cot. The three feet he traveled felt like thirty miles. He sat down a little rough, causing both of them to yelp in pain.

" ... the hell ya doin'!" Vin snapped, his arms protecting his screaming ribs.

"Feeding that ungrateful mouth of yours," He held the mug up and tipped it carefully, so the other man could sip from it.

" ... s'not bad ... " Vin managed, feeling the warm fluid invade him. "Here, I got it ... " He took the mug and another sip, before glaring at the hands adjusting his blanket, " ... get yer ass back t'yer own bed. Nate finds ya over here and I'll get an earful ... " He took another hearty swallow and handed the half full mug back, "Thanks ... 'preciate it ... " He paused, his blue eyes narrowing when he saw the other's jade ones lingering doubtfully in the swirls of soup. "What?"

"I was merely ascertaining if you left any lingering residue."

"Fuck yer sorry ass to Dixie and back!" Vin ired, fighting a smile, "I didn't spit in it ... ya got balls, ya know that? I didn't hafta share m'soup with ya ... "

"Your soup!" Ezra huffed, using Vin's shoulder to push himself upwards, which again caused both men to yelp. He eased his body onto his own cot, finished the soup and laid on his stomach. He was nearly asleep, when he felt a hot towel placed on his back by an unsteady hand. He moaned in pleasure and sucked in air, as the hot moisture soothed his bruised flesh. He heard the soft flow of curses in several languages and peeked one eye open, just in time to see Vin Tanner stagger a crooked path back to his bed. The body flopped down, yanked a blanket up and took several minutes to regain a normal rate of breathing. One look at the deathgrip Vin's hand had on the cotside, told him the younger man was dizzy. The slim Texan was swaying and sweating profusely. "Your sacrifice is duly noted," he managed, seeing the damp, mangled head across from him nodding. "Can you see Mister Wilmington? Are they operating on him?"

" ... arm ... Nate's pluckin' ... bullet ... reckon ... " Vin whispered, his head and stomach both rebelling strongly. It took all he had not to vomit, and he fought hard, clenching the sides of the bed. He saw Chris from the corner of his eye, walking briskly toward where Nate worked. " ... Chris got ... a doctor ... "

"Hopefully a surgeon with a skilled, steady hand," Ezra managed, letting his eyes shut finally.

Vin glanced over and saw Ezra was asleep again. He kept his eyes trained on the trio of men hovering over Buck's body. He kept the picture in his head of that mustached man's broad grin, warm open hand on his back and that booming voice. "Ya keep him, safe," he whispered, eyeing the stars above, calling to a higher source. "Ain't often we get the likes o'his kind ... we need him ... " Despite his best efforts, the dizziness didn't abate, he felt sick to the stomach and wavered, nearly tipping off the cot. "Aw, hell ... "

"You drunk, Tanner?"

He felt relief then, as a set of strong hands righted him on the cot. He kept his eyes closed, for it shut out the waves of dizziness. He let his best friend adjust his aching body in the cot and pull a blanket up. He kept shivering, despite the double layer of cloth. He was about to protest the hand that swept across his brow, but thought wiser of it. "Hey Cowboy ... " he whispered, peeling his eyes half open.

"That fickle belly of yours up to some soup? Nate said to give you some." Chris sat on the tree stump near Vin's cot and held out a mug with steam coming from it. He followed the worried, half-mast blue eyes up the short hill, to where Nate and Doctor Smith were working to save Buck Wilmington's leg and life. "We're lucky," he said quietly, helping the younger man hold the mug and get a sip. "That doctor's a surgeon from back East. He's good, Vin ... very good. You should see what he had to do, to cut some folks outta the wreckage. He saved a lot of them. He thinks he can save Buck's leg. It's a bad wound." He paused, sensing a change in the patient. The blue eyes were hard and cold, the square jaw set as if in stone. He could hear the wheels turning in the tracker's damaged head. "Don't go there, Vin," he sighed wearily, tipping the mug again and watching the lips accept the soup. "It's not your fault. That blond bastard who stuck Buck was out to rob the train, we just got in the way. It had nothing to do with ... "

"The hell it didn't ... Bucklin went after him ... on accounta me ... " He turned his face away, suddenly the soup was souring in his gut. "I'm givin' ya warnin', come daylight, I'm headin' out after him. I know this territory better'n most. He's gonna pay ... Tanner style."

"Wasn't planning on stopping you." Chris didn't argue, he didn't have that right. Besides, if would be as good as spitting into a strong wind. The one weapon he could use against Vin was as lethal as the mare's leg he wore. Loyalty. was something the tracker prized highly and felt deeply. He kept hold on the mug and offered it again, seeing guilt harbored in the tired, blue eyes.

"Good, just' so's ya know," Vin said with conviction, as much to convince himself. He'd expected an argument, the green eyes to rebel at him, even a curse word or two. He glanced at Larabee then, as the tired man sat back and lit up a cheroot.

"When I found him, I thought he was dead," the smart man said, selecting his trump card. "I couldn't find a breath, he was colder than ice ... "

Vin looked over then hearing the tremor in the other's voice. The stoic face didn't crack, but the worried eyes were trained on the stilled form of Buck Wilmington.

"He could barely whisper, hell I thought he was gonna die in my arms." Chris continued ,sliding the trump card onto his lips, "He was only worried about one thing ... a dying promise to a friend. Wanted me to pass it along ... to you."

"Me!" Vin choked, eyes shooting wide open, quite painfully.

"He barely got your name out, his eyes were all bright with pain and fever. He's was usin' what little breath he had, worrying on you. He was frantic Vin, that you died thinking he broke his word to you."

"He didn't do no such thing!" Vin protested, a lump forming in his chest.

" ... said he gave his word," Chris spit the card out, " ... to watch your back on the train. Buck's funny that way. Loyalty and honor and all ... " He flicked a glance over the struggling patient, wrestling with his conscience. "I reckon it's your face he'll be looking for ... damn shame ... him being so weak ... could make the difference."

" ... that ain't playin' fair, Chris!" Vin whispered, gripping the edge of the cot hard, his voice barely able to enunciate.

"I know you want Garrett, Vin. You got every right. But, Buck needs you too. I can't force you to stay, but I can promise if you wait, until Buck's past the worst of it ... " he paused, offering the mug and a whole lot more, "I'd like to ride with you."

Vin turned slowly, studying Chris Larabee's face long and hard, before turning his gaze to where Buck was fighting for his life. He stared at that mug, followed the wisps of steam rising from the rim and thought about Chris Larabee's offer. He didn't want to choose between them, the old and the new. It wouldn't be fair to force his hand, not after all he'd done. No, Chris Larabee meant far too much to him to hurt him like that. He took his throbbing eyes to Wilmington's pale, sweat-covered profile. He swallowed the lump in this throat, hearing that booming voice again and jumped slightly, almost feeling the large hand on his back. He took the mug and savored the hot fluid.

As if sensing his thoughts, Chris pursed his lips, pulled a flask from his duster and took a swig. He offered it over, taking the mug back until Vin could get a good swallow. They switched again, Vin sipped his soup, his eyes never leaving Buck's face. He watched the muscles and veins sticking out of the doctor's neck, imagining how those deft fingers were working. He finished the soup, dropped the mug onto the ground and parted his lips.

"So what are we up against?"

"Ezra was awake when they busted in, Dixon is the mastermind, probably has a hand picked gang split between here and the camp in Mexico. Garrett his right hand, I'd say, and from what I've heard, a bad apple. A mean son-of-a-bitch ... he must have snuck on the train, he wasn't with the assigned group."

"I'm gonna kill 'im, Chris ... "

"He's not going anywhere, Vin. He thinks you're dead. He's in San Paulo, lickin' his wounds." He offered the bottle over again and waited. "You're not the only one whose got his number." He saw the head turn sharply and study him.

"I got more'n 'nuf reasons ... " he snapped, shoving the arm away. "I can still see him ... hear her screamin' ... "

"Yeah, I know, Vin and I'm sorry. That's a helluva thing to live with. You were only a kid yourself ... " He gripped the injured man's forearm and forced him to turn. "Those folks on that train lost people that they cared about too. Husbands, fathers, sons ... is their grief any less? When we find him, Vin, we're bringin' him back to stand trail. Those folks ... they need to feel that. They got that right." He flinched as Vin pulled away, hunched down in the bed and tugged the blanket up. He didn't know if his words even took hold. Sighing, he gave the blanketed shoulder a pat of support and stood up. He saw the steaming pot of linen near Ezra and got another towel. Then he walked away from the carnage. He found a quiet spot where he could still see his friends, but keep his solitude. He lit a cheroot and leaned against the aged tree. He needed to think ... he needed a plan. He wasn't about to let Vin Tanner murder a man in cold blood, even if he did deserve it.

Nathan's eyes were rivited to the masterful work before him. Not only did the skilled hands of the weary surgeon work magic, he took the time to explain each step. Nathan took mental notes of the operation, grateful for the lesson. Finally it was done. Jackson was speechless, he'd never seen such fine work. The humble physician sat down on a bench nearby, taking a large drink of water. His face was lined with blood and soot, this clothes marred with gore, but Nathan Jackson never saw a finer cut of man.

"Yuh gonna leave it open?" Nate inquired of the wound, which was packed with lint soaked in carbolic. " ... so any infection can drain out?"

"Yes," Miles Smith answered, watching the young man leave the patient's side. "Just change the packing, watch for discoloration, oozing and smell it ... flush out any impurities."

"I jus' want t'thank yuh," Nathan extended his hand and shook the other's firmly, "It was a real honor ... workin' with yuh. He'll heal okay?"

"Fine," the tired doctor yawned, "I could sleep for a week!" He handed the other man a mug of cider. "He'll need to stay off it for several weeks, until he's healed. Those muscles and tendons are in a precarious state. He's got a fever, that will be our biggest concern, but he's strong, a fighter ... I've seen that!" He recalled the incident on the train. "I need to turn the knife over to the commanding officer. It's evidence ... "

"I'll get Chris, he'll want to look at it, talk with yuh. Him and Buck go way back ... " The ex-medic stood and stretched his aching back, rubbed his heavy eyes and watched the wagons approaching. "I'll get Vin and Ezra on one of 'em ... "

"There are schools, you know, where men of color can learn medicine. Those hands of yours, are very talented. If you ever decide to get your degree, let me know. I'll write a letter of recommendation and do all I can."

Nathan knew by the tone of this voice, he was sincere. He nodded, swallowed hard and again, extended his numb hand. "Comin' from yuh like that ... it sure means somethin' ... Thank you, Sir."

"Sir?" the tired doctor laughed, "It's Miles and Nathan, the pleasure was all mine."

Chris was dozing when a hand gently tapped his shoulder. He was on a cot vacated by one of the burn victims. For several hours, wagons had been taking the wounded to town. Three times they came and left, bearing the least injured. Now they waited, while those whose weren't able to walk, were loaded on canvas army stretchers.

"Chris ... .Chris ... it's done."

"Buck!" the blond coughed, angry that he'd fallen asleep. "Shit ... "

"He's fightin'," the tired man stood next to Vin Tanner, who was breathing heavy. "Doctor Smith is with 'im, if yuh wanna speak t'him. Yuh should have seen him, Chris ... his hands were ... " he stared at his own, feeling inadequate. "He saved Buck's leg ... life ... and that's a fact! He's totin' a fever ... we got a rough few days ahead, but he thinks with some rest, he'll be fine."

"Thank God," he dropped his damp blond head and felt a strong hand grip the neck. He stood, embraced Nathan, who he knew had seen sights tonight, that no one should endure. Especially the burned children. " ... and thank you, Mister Jackson. What you did, for those people tonight, took somethin' a lot more than guts."

"Yuh'r punch drunk from gettin' no sleep!" the brown eyes smiled in warmth, releasing the other man. "Go on ... I wanna check these two, see if I can get 'em on the next wagon. Lord, I am tired!"

"I can't imagine why," Chris said, nodding and walking up the hill.

Pink. That was his first impression. Soft, fuzzy and warm, a rosy hue embraced his face and kissed it tenderly. He sighed, stretched and let Mother Sun nuzzle him some more. He lifted his aching head and hissed in pain, as the first ray of sun slammed through window. Window? He frowned, recalling the macbre scene at the wreck. He squinted, putting one hand over his eyes and sat up. A room, not very large, but clean and not cluttered. A row of cots were on one wall and a bar on the other. Familiar faces slept peacefully nearby. Ezra was next to him, sleeping on his stomach, Nathan's tall frame stood out, his legs extending beyond the bottom of the bed. A man who looked vaguely familiar came next, Vin recalled talking to him on the train. A doctor? Maybe ... he fuzzily recalled the body working on Buck. Buck! His eyes frantically roamed the room, not seeing his friend. He sat up too fast and fell off the bed, landing on his hands and knees. He groped in the shadows of the early day, finding the side of a cot. He pulled his throbbing ribcage up, trying to breathe through the fire exploding in his taped chest. The forced breathing brought a spell of coughing. That action left him weak and dizzy, grasping the wooden bedside for all it's worth.

" ... keep ... your ... Texas ... crud ... offa ... my ... handsome ... f..f ... fa..ce ... Sl ... s

I ... ick!"

His head shot up then, despite the pain. His troubled sky eyes drank in the sight just inches from his own. It was a pale imitation of the face he'd come to know. The dark hair seem stark against the wet face with scarlett slashes of fever. The blue slits of eyes regarded him curiously. He reached out an unsteady hand to where he thought Buck's face should be.

"Ya ... look like shit ... " Vin rasped, " ... no ... account skirt chaser ... "

"Who ... the ... hell ... are ... you ... talkin' ... to ... Son?" Buck whispered painfully, watching the blinking sky eyes and hand moving next to his pillow. "I'm over ... here ... hell's wrong with your..eyes ... "

"Bucklin!" Vin blinked again, as the twin's melded into one Wilmington face. "..hey ... there ya are ... Two o'ya is t'damn scary ... " he gave the shoulder a pat and fell down hard.

"Vin?"

"Yeah?" he replied, sitting on the floor and resting against the wall, Buck was to his left.

" ... you're ... half ... naked ... where you goin'?"

" ... I didn't see ... couldn't find ... " he paused, winced and rubbed his sore chest. " ... thought ya was dead ... "

"Shit!" Buck managed weakly, " ... woke up a little while ago ... been keepin' company with Miss Rosebud."

"Who?" Vin coughed again and followed Buck's single finger that pointed to the wall at the foot of the bed.

"Aw, hell!" he gasped, eyes wide. "Damn ... they're huge ... " The weak laughter next to him, caused him to scowl. " ... somethin' funny?"

"You are ... you think you never saw a naked lady before!"

"I seen plenty!" the annoyed Texan countered, eyeing 'Rosebud's best assets again. " ... Jes' never seen ... uh ... a pair like that ... must be two feet high ... reckon that's how she got her name."

"You be respectful," Buck coughed, eyeing the large fresco on the wall before them. A Rubenesque beauty with black hair, reclining on a setee wearing a drape over her waist was splayed before them. "That's a real Lady! She sure is fine!" He coughed again, harsher this time.

"Hold on ... I'll get ya some water ... " Vin managed, lifting his head to peek over Buck's bulk to where a small barrell of cold water sat, with a ladle. He got on all fours, attempting to stand, only to have the weak hand bat his face.

"No way ... " Buck whispered, "You'll fall ... on ... me and bust ... somethin' ... crawl!"

" ... yer messin' m'hair ... " Vin hissed, pulling away.

" ... rat's nest ... you got ... balls ... "

Vin crawled slowly, then the room began to get dark and black spots danced in front of him. He wouldn't fail Buck, the man was in a fevered state and needed water. He groped around the bed, peeked once and spotted the end of the ladle and continued his journey. He inched along the next wooden framed bed, closer and closer and then snaked his hand out, seeking the ladle. He thought he was doing fine until he hit something soft.

"What the hell are you doing!" Chris snapped, eyes jerking open, as Vin's hand groped his leg.

"Gettin' a drink ... "

"That knock on the head affected your eyes," the cranky man asserted, shoving the naked tracker's arm from his thigh. Vin's jaw worked, but no words came out. He flopped like a fish out of water, arms floudering and mouth sucking for air. "Jesus ... " he sat up, hauled the younger man to his knees and shoved him onto his own bed. "Stay put, will you!"

"No," Vin wiggled, sitting up and pressing against the black cotton wall, "Buck's countin' ... on ... me ... he's fevered ... I ... prom ... "

"Vin?" Chris caught him as he passed out. He easily slung him back on the bed, adjusted the pillows so his upper body was raised and covered him up.

"You need ... J.D.'s ... cuffs ... "

"I just might," Chris replied, filling the dipper with water and dropping by Buck's side. He eased his friend upwards and fed him the water. He saw the painting and laughed, dropping his gaze to the smiling, weak man below. The rogue's bed was in the perfect position to 'appreciate' the ladies best features. "Buck, if I didn't know better, I'd swear you planned this ... "

"I ... got ... a ... reputation ... to ... live..up ... to ... " Buck coughed and relaxed, shutting his eyes as the other one wiped his face, neck and chest with cold water. "What happened, Chris?"

"We're in Fullerton, it's just about sunrise. Garrett and Dixon blew up the train. A couple dozen killed, a whole injured. There was no silver ... we were set up."

"Dixon?" Buck spat, recalling Vin's bloody encounter, "Not ... surprised ... didn't ... want ... doctor ... check..Vin." he coughed again. " ... prisoner ... he ... locked ... up ... " He thought on the leader's words, " ... set up? shit ... "

"Ezra filled me in," Chris gave Buck another drink and recapped the night's events, right down to their arrival in town. "This place used to be the saloon in the hotel. It closed a little while back, a newer one opened up. Ezra and Vin are here, Nate's asleep and that's Doctor Smith ... he saved your life. "

"Saved Vin's too ... " Buck yawned, "He's a good man ... .how bad?" he eyed the raised injured limb, wincing at the ragged edges of the incision. It ached and throbbed in steady rhythm with the pain in his bandaged arm.

"If you want to use that leg again, he says you stay put for a few weeks. No weight on it at all. It took all the skill he had to fix it ... don't fuck it up!"

"Don't worry," Buck shivered, recalling his battle in the cold river. "I thought ... when we got blown off ... I was dead. Garrett?"

"In San Paulo by now ... with Dixon countin' their money."

Buck's head turned to where Vin was sleeping, still too pale but looking much better than he'd last seen him. "I thought he was dead ... in my arms ... so much blood. That bastard baited him, Chris. It wasn't Vin's fault. He's gonna take off, you know ... he's got a fire in his belly. Can't ... say ... as ... I blame..him ... bastard ... deserves to ... to ... die!" he coughed hard, so much so that Chris had to haul him up and clap his back. "Sorry ... "

" ... s'okay," Chris smiled, "I'll put it on my bill. Go back to sleep, Buck, you need to rest. I won't let Vin ride out ... go on." he urged, turning the water-logged pillow over and easing the other's head down. Buck was already sleeping again.

He stood, stretched and went in search of coffee. A few of the volunteers were in the kitchen, preparing trays for the injured. Chris took a cup of coffee outside, along with a makeshift sandwich. The scrambled eggs and ham on a hunk of bread went down easy. As he watched the sun shyly coming over the buildings across from him, he wondered on Buck's words. Vin Tanner did have a fire in his belly, one that would only be sated with justice. Justice ... what kind? Would he be able to stop his friend from killing Garrett? He sighed, eyed the horizon and wondered about their trip down the 'devil's highway'.

Sometimes being an older and wiser lived up to it's moniker. Josiah steered them clear of the wreck, knowing the army would be doing cleanup. Something J.D. didn't need to see was body parts strewn around the countryside. So the preacher took them on a slightly longer route and they arrived in Fullerton just past noon. The only thing keeping him upright was the stubborn streak that ran up his back. He grunted as they rode into town, when the youth's dark head turned around again.

"You aimin' to get whiplash, Son?" he asked of the frequent glances backwards.

"That's the thanks I get for keeping you alive!" Dunne eyed the hotel where the wire said the injured were taken. He was anxious to see Buck. The report listed him as critical. He dropped form his horse, tied the reins to the post and shot for the door.

"Thanks, J.D., I can manage," the eldest imparted wryly, watching the door shut behind the Bostonian, " ... not to worry ... "

"You look awful, Preacher!"

The weakened, travel-weary man smiled at the familiar sound of the healer's voice. He took the arm offered and eased off the horse, eyeing the tired face of the other.

"I don't see as you are in any position to be critical. How's Buck?"

"Bad ... fever's got him good. Erza's back is giving him fits and Vin can't seem to stay awake."

"Another day in paradise," Sanchez winced, rubbing the old bandage. "You open for business?"

"Yeah, I'll get you settled and have a look," he lead him inside, to a small area set aside for bandages changes and cleansing. "Somebody did a good job ... " he boasted, raising an eyebrow at his handiwork.

"Yeah ... humble is his middle name ... " the other replied, "Dammit Nathan!"

"Shut up!" the medic snapped, dousing the open wound with carbolic and rewrapping it. "It's healing good. Yuh rest today, yuh lost blood. Hungry?"

"Yeah, it's a long time since breakfast." He rose and let Nathan put a new sling on his arm. "Where's Chris?"

"Left about an hour ago." Nate paused, eyeing the horizon, " ... for San Diego. He found out that the General has a hush-up meeting there."

" ... scrambling around trying to cover their asses ... " the wounded man grit his teeth.

"For the 'official' report ... " Nate shook his head, rewrapping the unused guaze. "I seen things Josiah ... " he turned away, dropped his head and found a strong hand on his shoulder. " ... got me t' wonderin' what he was thinkin'" he raised his soulful eyes skyward.

"Faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen," the wise man quoted Hebrews 11:1 from the good book.

"Humph," Jackson shook his head, "Chris don't see it that way ... never seen him so fired up."

"I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that table," he noted of the anger he knew was boiling inside Larabee.

" ... or what's left of it when he leaves." Nate opened the door to the deserted saloon. Vin was sleeping still and that caused the dark-skinned healer to frown. J.D. was sponging down Buck and Ezra was ... well ... being Ezra.

"Where are my clothes? I will not lounge about half naked in the middle of the day. Nathan ... I insist you ... "

"If yuh don't quit bellyachin' I'm gonna fetch Miss Lucy!" he warned of the oversized, overanxious nurse wannabe who 'bathed' both Vin and Ezra earlier. While the tracker never roused, the gambler wasn't so fortunate.

"That's hitting below the belt!" the southerner scoffed, recalling the vile smell that rolled off the rough-handed woman.

"Really?" Josiah smiled, as he sat on the empty chair next to the irritated southerner. "She had that much of an effect on you?"

"It would do you well to remove your mind from the gutter," Ezra winced, trying to turn. "My limbs are numb, I would like to move a bit ... "

"Yuh sure it ain't your gums that's numb?" the healer muttered, bending over the tracker. "He wake up at all?" Nate nodded to the slim man, sleeping soundly, breathing heavily through his mouth.

"I've seen more activity in corpses. Doctor Smith was quite concerned."

The whole time Ezra was talking, his gaze were trained to Vin's stilled form. He wasn't quick enough to hide his eyes from the wise one's of the eldest.

"Seems to me the doctor isn't the only one worried," he winked at the scowling younger man. "You know Nate, a hot bath with some salt might do his back good."

"I can't leave Buck," the healer answered, moving from Vin to the fevered rogue. "Buck, Buck, wake up now ... I need yuh t'drink some tea ... J.D. get his head up!" He sat on the bench next to the bunk and tapped the wet face. "Damn' he's burnin' up ... "

"Buck! I didn't ride all the way her for you to sleep through lunch," J.D. announced loudly, his gaze on the wet head under his arm.

Josiah's eyes were trained on Miss Rosebud and he grinned in appreciation. "Fine figure of a woman." His words brought J.D.'s head up finally.

"She's naked!" He blurted, juggling his patient. His wide eyes locked on the painting on the wall. "Her ... she's got ... breasts."

That comment brought a weak chuckle from the dangerousl ill man. Josiah leaned forward and gripped Buck's forearm, as the weak man spoke.

" ... there's ... h..h..o ... pe ... for ... you ... yet ... K..K ... id ... "

"Buck!" He choked, shifting his body to support the other one better. "You better not die ... "

" ... wasn't ... plannin' on ... it ... " he coughed, turned his head slightly when he felt the pressure on his arm. He saw a blurry gray head and a homemade cross on a leather strip. " ... You here ... on ... official ... bus ... ness ... Preach ... er ... "

"I got no funeral suit with me, Brother," he winked, nodding to the painting. "I'm just here for the view."

"Buck, I got some medicine ... " Nate tipped the mug of warm tea and slowly coaxed it into the ill man. "That'll help some. Here," he followed it up with some water. " ... good..that's it ... all of it ... How's the leg?"

" ... not up ... to ... dancin' ... " Buck coughed, his eyes were so heavy and it was a struggle to stay awake. He blinked at the dark face above him, trying to speak again.

"Don't be lookin' this way," Jackson teased, wiping the wet face again with rubbing alchohol, " ... Yuh ain't my type."

" ... and besides, you don't dance that good." J.D. added, trying not to worry. "Buck?" he angled his head trying to see. "Nate?"

"He's out again." He sighed, "let him go J.D."

"Nate, why don't you and J.D. get Ezra over to the bath house? I'll stay with Buck and Vin."

"Okay," he stood, walking to the cranky gambler.

"I am perfectly capable of bathing on my own. Furthermore ... "

"Shut up, Ezra!" J.D. and Nathan said together.

"You're outnumbered, Ezra, best you just surrender."

"A Standish does not surrender," he hissed, slapping weakly at Nathan's hand. "An o ... cas..s.ion..al ... retreat ... perhaps ... " He was up at last, gripping J.D.'s arm hard. "I'm fine ... "

"Yeah, I guess that's why I got no feeling in my hand," the youth shook his head, flanking one side of the slow moving conman. "So does this Miss Lucy run the bath house?"

"Bite your tongue!" Ezra gasped, "Your attempt at humor is still lacking in content."

The room was quiet at last and the large man moved over to where Vin Tanner was sleeping semi-upright, propped on a rolled up blanket. He saw the eyes darting under the pale lids and heard the soft moans being born. The right hand wavered, grasping for an unseen object. The brows furrowed, the lips trembled and soft flurry of breaths escaped.

The train was on fire. Bodies were burning near him and Ezra was screaming as a jagged piece of metal came through his chest. Blood spilled from the gambler's mouth in great waves, coating his shirt and chest. He was trapped, he couldn't reach Ezra or Buck. Buck? He saw the unseeing eyes of the rogue, his face stilled in death. He struggled but the fiery beam over his head fell down, crushing him.

"Easy, Son," he sat down and rested his good hand on the tanned bare shoulder. The eyes blinked and opened half way, looking at him annoyed. A deep sigh followed, the tongue ran over the dry lips and the brows got denser. "Vin? You back? You want some water?" The face softened and the eyes widened, staring at something beyond the room. He ran a hand inches from the tracker's eyes, and they blinked. "Vin?"

" ... they're ... dead ... " he whispered, breathing heavily. "Ez ... I'm sorry ... Bucklin ... all dead ... why I'm not ... dead ... "

"Hell, Vin, you're too onry to die!" He joked, "You were dreaming, Buck's asleep, see," he motioned to the other man, moving so the troubled Texan could see. "Ezra's getting a bath. Here," he lifted a full mug of cool water and helped the unsteady hand reach the parched lips. "Slow now ... I don't have any clean shirts with me."

" ... ain't gonna throw up ... " Vin defended, "Nate 'round?"

"He's with Ezra ... You hungry? I smell soup."

"Yeah, thanks. See if ya can scare up some of that cat piss," he hissed, trying to make the blurry vision go away. "M'head's killing me." While Josiah left to find food, Vin stood on shakey legs and made his way to Buck's bedside. The scoundrel looked rough. He was doing fine, until the floor started to move. "Shit! Aw, hell ... floor's movin' faster than a whore in church." He sat down on the chair hard, relieved that he one he picked was the real one. He was gasping for breath, but heard the weak laughter. "Bucklin?"

"You ... sure ... do ... got..a..a ... way ... with ... with ... words ... Sl ... Slick ... "

"Ya look like shit," Vin said softly, picking up the rag from the basin on the side of the bed and trying to wipe the fevered man down."

"F ... u ... ck ... you ... Tan ... ner ... " Wilmington grinned, watching Vin's usual nimble hands, roam off track. He was swabbing down the bed, not once did the cloth touch him. Then the hand lifted, putting the cloth on the floor, next to the basin. "Thanks ... Vin ... 'preciate ... that ... "

"Figgered ya needed some help gettin' rid o'that fever. Ya up and die and Chris won't be fit t'live with. Be stompin' the hell all ... ov ... er ... " he swallowed hard, still seeing Garrett's leering face.

Buck turned then, despite he pain it caused and saw such a look of grief driven guilt, it forced an anger to well inside him. The anger drove him upwards on one elbow, peering at the sorry face.

"You lose that face ... or ... find another spot to squat ... " he warned.

"I'm sorry ... Bucklin ... that bastard's gonna pay fer what he done t'ya ... "

"Sorry," he laughed weakly, coughed and saw Vin's hand snake out again, completely missing his hand. "If anyone's gonna ... be ... a ... pol ... ogiz..ing ... it's ... me ... broke my promise ... didn't watch your back ... I'm the one who's sorry ... V ... V..in ... " he forced it out, snagging the wavering hand.

"Ya didn't do no such thing!" Vin rasped in a shocked voice. "Ya ain't got no cause t'feel that way."

"Don't ... you ... tell ... me ... how ... to ... feel!" Buck shot out in a hostile voice. The image of Vin's bloody body in his arms in the train came back. "You damn near died in my arms ... damn sorry-assed Texan."

Vin didn't need his eyes to work to see Buck's emotions. He heard the strong flow of feelings in every word. Nobody hurt for his friends like Buck Wilmington. The angry edict took all his energy away and he was coughing again. He saw two canteens on Buck's bedpost and reached for one. "Hold on ... I'll get ya a drink."

"Never figured ... I'd ... die of thirst ... " Buck joked, grinned weakly and saw Vin miss the canteen twice. " ... s'okay, Vin, I'm not that thirsty ... "

"Shut the hell up, I'm gettin' ya a drink ... " Vin snarled, bobbing his head to get a better angle. "Can't figger it..two of 'em hangin' there ... can't get a lick on one ... "

"Some tracker ... " Buck managed to move his arm enough to nudge the solo canteen into Vin's flagging hand.

"Got it!"

"Good job, Son," Buck took the wavering hand, covering it with his own and took a long drink. "Thanks, Vin." Two sets of less than steady blue eyes met over the water container and found a common ground. Buck saw something there that scared him. A bounty hunter emerged ,his sky eyes hard and his jaw tense. "Vin ... leave it be ... for now ... You ain't up ... to ... ridin' in ... that devil's road ... We'll get ... Garrett ... all of them ... " He eased back, the room fading away.

"I'll find him," Vin said quietly, eyes on the doorway. "He's mine."

Buck tried to protest, to warn Josiah, who was near. He heard that heavy step and the booming voice. He tried to speak, to get the other man to notice, but the room got smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left to see.

"Vin, you okay?" Josiah set the tray down on a table nearby and eyed the strange, faraway look in the sky eyes. He moved closed and snapped his fingers, causing the Texan to blink. "Vin?"

"Huh? Oh," he rose and grabbed the closest thing, which happened to be the preacher's sling. "Aw, hell, 'siah, I'm sorry ... damn floor won't stay put. I hurt ya?"

"No ... " the preacher clenched his jaw and felt tears of pain in his eyes. He moved enough to grab Vin before he fell on top of Buck's raised leg. "Sit down before you fall down," he ordered, shoving the smaller man into a chair. He took the other one and they ate quietly.

"Where'd Chris get to?" Vin finally spoke, wondering why the blond was absent.

"He had business in San Diego, he'll be back tonight."

"Army business?" Vin spat tersly.

"Larabee business," the wise man replied and heard a snort of contempt. "Judge less not ... "

"Stop!" Vin shoved his chair back, eyes hot, "Don't be spittin' them pearly words at me ... not now. Ya weren't there ... ya didn't hear 'em screamin' ... smell 'em roastin' alive ... " He drank the herbal tea and nearly crushed the cup. "I need some air ... " He shoved away from the table and felt his way along the wall, until he found the door. He didn't realize the older man was right behind him.

"Sit! Don't move an inch further, I got to see to Buck." He shoved the irate man onto a bench outside the door. He found a white shirt hanging on a peg inside and helped Vin into it. He had longjohns on and his feet were bare. Safe enough, he couldn't get away with no shoes, half dressed. "I'll be right back."

Vin eased his throbbing skull against the side of the building, nearly screaming for the pain. His ribs ached and he felt the drugged tea taking effect. Then he heard voices nearby and turned, eyeing a trio of soldiers walking from the telegraph. He stood and followed them, holding on to the window sills.

"Where's the Sarge? Teller wired from San Paulo, they got most of the gang. Garrett and Dixon got away."

"He ain't gonna like that." The other one replied.

" ... they think they're hiding out until nightfall, then they're gonna head back this way, try to cross the river and hit the high country. Dixon has friends that'll hide him ... "

The voices faded away as they crossed the street, but Vin heard enough. With a new fuel filling his gut, he turned back, a plan forming in his pounding head. He'd rest all day, then leave after dark. The only place Brad Garrett was going, was straight to Hell. He nearly got back to the door, when he found himself on the boardwalk. A blurry cluster of legs appeared in front of him. He looked up, and wished he hadn't. Instead of one set of angry brown eyes, there were two!

"Nate?" he whispered meekly, trying to avoid the wrath of Jackson. "I ain't seein' t'good ... I musta wandered in m'sleep."

"Do I look like a fool t'yuh!" He shouted, hauling the tangled Tanner limbs upright.

"Well, one of ya might ... hard to tell ... " he squinted, as the taller man and his twin shoved his body through the door.

"Get yuh'r ass in that bed. Yuh'r worse than a child, can't leave yuh alone ... "

" ... best not t'holler and such," Vin panted, totally out of breath now as he was dumped onto a bed," m'head bein' in such a delicate condition ... "

"That might explain what happened t'the brains in there!" he stormed, "I told yuh not t'push yuhself. A head injury ain't nuthin' t'fool with!"

He sat for a moment, before easing back on the raised blankets. He saw Nathan and Josiah tending to Buck and felt a wave of guilt. Buck needed Nathan to concentrate on him, and acting out would only make things worse. He tried to find a way to get comfortable, but the pain in his head only got worse. He felt the soup rising back up and began to panic. He broke out into a cold sweat, sat up and doubled over. The room took on a red tinge as the fire behind his eyes exploded. His heart began to hammer and he tried to control the spasms in his gut. Just as his panic was being to reach a crest, he felt a strong set of hands on his back, easing him over a basin. They held his hair back and rubbed his back while he lost his lunch. The smooth voice and steady hands, guided him through the ordeal, cleaned him up and righted him.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, unable to open his eyes for the pain.

"Why didn't yuh say somethin'?" Nate guided a cold cup of water to the parched lips.

"Thanks ... " Vin drank gratefully, finally getting one eye half open. " ... Buck needs ya ... don't wanna be a bother."

"Vin, yuh listen ... Vin?" Jackson sighed, as the slim man's body fell. He gently guided him back onto the bed and pulled the blanket up. If that raspy apology wasn't effective enough, the hollowed blue eyes were. Shaking his head, he went to join J.D., helping Ezra back into the room. Vin heard the retreating footsteps and welcomed the approaching slumber. He would need all his strength, for his journey after sunset.

Part Six

The soft adobe houses trimmed in terra cotta with flowers all around them were a blur as he rode by. He heard the song of the ocean in the distance, the salt spray in the air invigorated him. He passed the merchants in the open air market, selling their wares and the crowd of townspeople carrying their purchases. Then he saw it, looming ahead encompassing a whole block. Two stories high and brand spanking new, the Cosmopolitan Hotel. He tied his mount up and strode through the arched doorway, into the cool, well appointed lobby. A large reception desk sat to one side, with clerks busy taking care of customers. There was a map on the wall of the outline of the hotel. He scanned it briefly, finding the conference room on the far end of the first floor. His boots hit the tiled floor in a determined pattern that matched the set of his jaw.

"You can't go in there, sir, it's Army business," A sentry on duty outside the large double wooden doors warned. His partner stood, both hands resting on his rifle.

Chris eyed the speaker first, then drew a long, cool green gaze to the rifle, up the arm and locked onto the private's face. He stared for several seconds, until the gun lowered. Then he turned back to the young man who addressed him.

"You're wrong, Son, it's Larabee business. You tell the General I'm out here, or you're gonna be picking up pieces of that pretty polished wood."

The young man paused, unsure what to do, until the soldier with him nodded.

"Go on, Cal, I got this."

Several minutes later the soldier returned, making the mistake of opening the door. Chris had one boot inside, before the other soldier grabbed his shoulder.

"You can't go in there!" He gritted, before the well muscled man shook him off.

"Well?" Larabee growled at the trembling private.

"The ... the ... general..he..he said for you ... to wait until ... they..get ... done ... "

"Fuck that!" Chris shoved past him, pushing the young man into his friend, spilling them both onto the floor. Then he shut the door behind him and pushed a table across the double doors, preventing entry.

Orrin Travis was tired and the headache born at dawn had built to a jagged-toothed monster. Aside from General Reinhardt, there was an official representing the territory, a press secretary and two representing the Secretary of Defense, who would report back to President Grant. He'd visited Buck and Vin earlier that day, before he left town. Neither man was conscious and Wilmington looked awful. He'd seen Jackson briefly, and the pain in the other man's eyes still reflected the gut-wretching horrors he'd been forced to endure all night. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the meeting, shoving his cold coffee to the side. He and the General had presented the witness accounts, interviews with folks on the train and the facts concerning the dead and injured. The army was now scrambling to save face. Already there were newspaper men arriving, wanting to find out 'what really happened'. Rumors were circulating and they needed to make a statement.

"Well?" Adam Glenn asked, he worked for the Secretary of Defense in their west coast office in San Francisco. He'd arrived that morning and would be leaving later to meet the President in San Francisco, where he was involved in negotiations with the Mexican consulate. "What should Martin tell the press?" He asked of the aide representing the Press Secretary.

"Choose your words carefully, Chester, this could have disasterous consequences," General Reinhardt studied the man at the head of the table.

"We'll report that a gang attempted to rob the train, through the use of explosives. Martin you have the exact location and details?" He waited for the young man to nod and continued, "From this twenty-one are dead and over sixty injured. Those recovering are being tended to in Fullerton. The army immediately dispersed a unit to seek out the bandits and caught them in Mexico. The large cache of rifles stolen from the train, was recovered. More information will be provided, when available." The head official deemed, spilling the twisted words far too easily.

"Orrin, you'll have to speak with you men," Reinhardt advised, "Stress the importance of National Security. We can't have a public outcry when Garrett and Dixon are still on the loose."

" ... and just what would you have me say to them, Nick?" his voice was full of flint and gravel, "Sorry for the inconvenience?"

"I was told these men could be trusted!" Kent intervened, opening an expensive cigar case.

"'these men'," Orrin sat up, shoving the headache aside, "I'd trust with my life, which is more than I can say for your 'men'."

"I'm going to forget that remark, Travis, I know you're exhausted and under duress." Kent charged, "You hired them, you handle them!"

"They're men, not cattle," Orrin said tersly, "I don't 'handle' them. Right now, half of them are injured, two severely so. Once I figure out how to look them in the eye, I'll talk with them and ask for their forgiveness."

"Forgiveness?" the other nearly choked, "For what? If you refer to the lives lost, the army will compensate the families of those killed with monetary renumeration," Chester Kent said, lighting an imported cigar. "The president, of course, is shocked and deeply saddened by the unfortunate turn of events."

"He should be." An ice cold angry voice filled the room. The gunslinger moved his taut, grimey body from the shadows of the room where he'd listened to the entire exchange. "Once he realizes that he's got an asshole like you running the show."

"How the hell did you get in here?" Kent's face screwed up. "I'm General Chester Kent and ... "

"I know who the fuck you are!" Larabee growled, his long strides making short work of the room. He towered over the five star General, letting the stench of the road clinging to him fall onto the other. He slammed a large rock on the new polished dark wood, scattering dust and dirt. "I don't think your silver's gonna bring a good price. I'm sure the families of those people you killed will be real impressed with all your fuckin' gold braids! You ought to be strung up by your balls ... " he paused, sucking in air through his clenched teeth, the uncontrollable rage had built to a deafening crescendo. He snickered in contempt them, " ... course in your case that might be hard."

"Chris ... " Orrin stood, walking to where the irate man seethed, every inch of his dirty face clenched in tumultuous rage. "I'll try to explain ... "

"He's Larabee?" Kent interrupted, "he's one of 'your men'?" He didn't hide his disgust.

"Did you know?" Chris took his eyes from the arrogant General long enough to impose his full glare on the judge. "Did you know!" he shouted, when Orrin Travis's face filled with guilt.

"No," he sighed, "not until last night, afterwards. I'm sorry, Chris."

"Yeah," the blond scoffed, "I'm sorry too, I'm sure Buck will be glad to hear that, if he lives." He turned away, as if addressing the injured man. "Gee, Buck, I'm awful sorry the army fucked you up the ass ... "

Kent rose, grabbing the mud caked dark green shirt, "You're out of line, Larabee, you don't have the right to just barge in here and ... "

"YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO PLAY GOD!" Chris roared, nearly blowing out every window in the room. Sweat cascading down his grime-streaked red face, running into the hot, intense green eyes. "Who the fuck do you think you are!" Chris grabbed him hard by the forearms, enjoying the flicker of pain it brought.

"I'm a General in the army of these United States of America. I earned these gold braids while you were learning to walk, that's who the fuck I am." Kent shrugged free, waving off the three soldiers who'd brust in the room. "It's alright, you're dismissed."

Chris waited until the door shut and turned back to the arrogant armyman, "While you were sleeping on your fat ass last night, I was picking up arms and legs without owners ... heads ... fingers ... " he paused his fists gripped to tightly he was cutting the palms of his hands. "I watched a doctor cutting men free from wreckage, severing legs and arms to save them ... .I saw a friend tending to burned children, blocking out their screams ... "

"Stop insulting me!" Kent argued, "You speak as if this was planned, I didn't set that bomb."

"The hell you didn't!" Chris bellowed, jabbing his index finger into the other's shoulder. "You not only planted that fuckin' bomb, you used the fuse to light that stinking cigar, you arrogant son-of-a-bitch!"

"Enough!" Reinhardt intervened, turning to Chris Larabee, "It was a mistake, Chris, nobody could have forseen those tragic consequences. We're all sorry for what you endured, but ... "

"Not good enough!" Chris snarled, eyes oozing lava, jerking his head to Orrin, "You could have told him the truth. You wanted to load that train with army men and play God, fine. But those decapitated bodies were men and women, citizens of this territory. I was supposed to watch their backs. That's the reason, the only reason, I agreed to have my men involved. To protect them from the likes of you. That was a mistake I have to live with."

"It would have made little difference," Kent scrambled to find an answer.

"It would have made all the difference," Chris spat back, "We would have been ready!" He saw the young man to the General's right furiously taking notes. "You want a quote, Kid?" He saw the youing man's head rise up. "Assiduus usus uni rei deditus et ingenium et artem saepe vincit."

"What's that mean?" The pressman frowned.

"It means the army is fuckin' experts at covering their fat asses!" Chris spat in disgust, shoving off Orrin's arm. "Don't fuckin' touch me!" He raged, still seeing the discarded arms and body parts, Buck's fevered face and Vin's troubled eyes.

"It means," a new voice said, leaving the doorway of the room "Constant practice devoted to one subject often outdoes both intelligence and skill. Augustus Casear, I believe."

"Cicero," Chris corrected, startled as he turned to the slight built man wearing a beard and very compassionate blue eyes.

"Sir!" General Kent turned. The others jumped to attention as the President of the United States walked to the table. "I didn't know that you arrived."

"I'm Ulysses Grant, Son and you have my deepest sympathy." He nodded to Kent and stared hard at the angry young peacekeeper, "You are correct, we did 'fuck up'."

Chris eyed the extended hand for a lingering moment and chose to ignore it, "I know who you are, Sir, I wore blue during the war. You were a helluva soldier."

"So were you, " Grant appraised, instantly reading the courage in the young man's frame. He withdrew his unshaken hand. "I give you my word, when we catch Dixon and Garrett, the press ... the country will know the truth."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Chris shot back, every inch of him aching from lack of sleep and the battering of bones jumping in pent up rage, "as for Garrett and Dixon, those bastards are mine."

"No, Mister Larabee, they commited a federal offense, the army will apprehend them." Grant spoke quietly.

"Right now, I doubt if the 'army' could find their own asses," Chris returned, "with both hands and a map. Excuse me," he turned away, seeking to get far away from Kent, before he couldn't contain his pent up fists any longer. "I need some fresh air, it reeks in here."

"No," Grant ordered, seeing the two military escorts that entered the room with him, start to follow the retreating form, "let him go."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Kent pulled a chair aside for the President to sit down. "He got past the guards."

"You should be apologizing to him, every word he said was true," Grant replied, picking up the souveneer from the army shipment. "I had the great fortune of meeting men like him during the war," he paused, watching through the window as the blond head bent over a water pump by the boarding house across the street. "Earning the respect of one like him," he saw Larabee's minature features through the glass. "was far greater than legions of the lesser." He sighed and settled in, "Shall we continue, Gentlemen, I want to be in Fullerton by dark. Tomorrow I'm meeting with the survivors."

The dream was confusing. Its murky depths pulled him under waves of deep purple doubt. He struggled to keep his head up, battling endless waves of decision. He gulped the air of reason along with tide of retaliation. They fought a battle within him, while gales shrieked in protest above is heavy head. As he battled the waves, he heard the train crash, felt his body being crushed and two faces far above. Both with blond hair, one with green eyes that bonded his soul; the other with blue ones that tore at it. Garrett laughed, the blues danced with insane delight. Where was Chris? He felt himself going down ... he couldn't breathe.

"You need a break, Nathan," J.D. moved from Buck's bedside to where the bone-weary healer struggled to remain alert. He looked awful, his face was ashen and deep, dark circles rimmed the bleary brown eyes. Even breathing seemed to be an effort. J.D. had wandered around town during the early part of the afternoon. Some of the lesser injured, were visible and he heard several give credit to Nathan. He was stopped by one mother, holding a child about three on her lap. The boy was holding a small toy in his hand. She had seen him with Nathan earlier and wanted to know if he was a friend. When he nodded, she grabbed his hand and thanked him profusely, for tending to her little boy, as if it was his own. More stories like that met him several times. He studied Nate again, the man seemed to be barely aware. He glanced at the hands and wondered about the healing power held within them. He rested his hand on the tired shoulder and gave it a rug. "You okay?"

"Huh?" Nathan blinked, spotting the tweed pants and started to jump. "Buck? He okay? I can get ... "

"He's fine!" the youth shoved him back down. "His fever's down and he's sleeping good. I got two mugs of broth in him and a biscuit. You're the one I'm worried about. You need a hot meal, a hot bath and a ... "

" ... I don't need no hot bed," the older man teased, rising slowly. "But that bath and supper sound good." He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry ... "

"Nathan, you need to sleep. Me and Josiah will watch over Vin and Buck. Go on," He encouraged and saw the other man wandering toward a bunk next to Buck. "No, not here, you'll be jumping up every time Buck turns in that bed. Go to the hotel up the street. Ezra got you a room."

"Ezra?" the dark head turned, "Who said he could leave? He shouldn't be moving around. That back of his needs rest."

"He knows that, he's moving like a man of ninety. I helped him take another hot bath with some salt and it helped. He got some things from the general store and rented a couple rooms."

"Okay, but if Vin's eyes are worse, if Buck's breathin' gets funny ... "

"You'll be the first to know," Josiah entered the room from the smaller adjoining room. He'd been helping volunteers drop off clothes, shoes and other necessities for the survivors. They were stacked in neat piles on long tables, along with some books, toys and other donations. He steered the protesting body to the door. "Don't come back until you look human."

Nathan paused in the doorway, with Josiah's strong hand on one shoulder and J.D.'s concerned eyes on his face. When did those small gestures come to mean so much? How welcome that feeling in his chest was. He nodded, found a tired smile and turned toward the bath house.

"Thanks, Preacher!" J.D. sighed, "He's a stubborn guy."

"That it is," Josiah nodded, rubbing his shoulder.

"Speaking of which, did you have supper yet?"

"No, I ... " a moan and the sound of a body thrashing in the noisy wooden bunk caused them both to turn.

"Vin!" J.D. moved across the room, watching his friend fight an invisible foe. The pale face was dripping in sweat, the eyes racing under light blue lids and the small moans of effort snuck from the clenched jaw. "Must be having a bad dream."

"I imagine he'll be having them for awhile." He thought on the train wreck and moved with the younger man. He waited, watched J.D. sit on the bunk and use both hands, along with his voice to calm the troubled sleeper.

"Chris ... " a weak call slipped by the pale lips.

"Vin, you gotta settle down, you're having a bad dream," J.D. encouraged, gripping both of Tanner's shoulders. The fine features were locked in anxious knots and the brows were furrowed. "Don't be swearing, Josiah's right here. You're safe Vin, I got your back." He said those words louder, hoping they would turn the tide in the battle. He felt the knotted muscles slacken up and the face relax again. On the table between Buck and Vin, was a basin with cold water. He took the linen cloth from it, and wiped the Texan's face.

Voices were nearby, familiar and reassuring. A gentle hand on his brow, a comforting pat on his shoulder and a deep voice hovered above his head.

"You rest easy, Son, you leave them demons where they belong," Josiah gave Vin a solid pat and pulled the blanket up. The waited for a few moments, but the body was now relaxed and sleeping peacefully again. "It looks like you have this covered, John Daniel," he boomed, slapped the youth's back. "I'm gonna check on Nathan and have some supper with him. Once he's settled in bed, I'll be back to relieve you."

"Okay," J.D. took his seat between the two beds, adjusting Buck's blanket and picking up his discarded newspaper.

The cold water roused his weary body. To his left on a the shelf, new clothes waited. A dark olive green shirt and black pants sat ready. He'd eaten a large lunch and taken a long nap in a room at the boarding house. Now, boasting a clean shaven face and a well scrubbed body, he was ready to ride back. He'd wired J.D. an hour ago and the youth replied that both Buck and Vin were better. But he also knew that the army had wired two forts near the border to send out patrols looking for Garrett and Dixon. So far, the pair eluded the law. He intended to change that. Now that Buck was on road to recovery, his troubled thoughts turned to Vin Tanner.

He sighed, rested his damp blond hair against the back of the tub and drew his knees up. He was worried about the younger man. Would his thirst for vengeance overpower the need for justice? What if the army found them first? Would he be forever haunted? He drew his lean body from the water and stepped away. Taking a large towel, he dried his body off, slipped into the socks, pants, boots and gunbelt. He took the shirt, duster and his saddlebags and walked out the back door.

The soft kiss of the salt air greeted him and he embraced it like a welcomed lover. He let the breeze lift his hair as he walked to the edge of the sanddunes. He paused, his eyes mirrored the troubled sea in color and churning. He saw a cluster of rocks nearby and sat down, as the gentle breeze stroked the glistening skin on his bronzed chest. The power of the water before him was aweing. The tide roared in defiance, sending a harsh coven of waves to the shore. Once humbled, they retreated, nestling back into Neptune's broad chest, only to be cast out again.

Restful. Calming. Peaceful. Healing. So many words and feelings invaded his tight chest. He kept inhaling, taking in great lungfuls of the magical air. He could sit here forever, letting the alluring tide tempt him. He'd heard about the healing powers of the ocean and now felt it first hand. He shut his eyes, let the descending sun caress his chest and kiss his face.

"Senor, would you like to take the ocean with you?"

"What?" Chris blinked and shook his head, unaware that he'd dozed off. A small boy of perhaps seven or eight, stood next to him. His well defined features, dark eyes and a mop of black hair bespoke his Mexican ancestry. Chris found a smile at the beguiling face and eyed the poor clothing the lad wore. In his hand, was a pretty conch shell. It's pure white body, streaked with shades of pink and peach.

"For fifty cents, which is not a lot of money," he reasoned, cocking his small head. "You can take the ocean home with you. It will bring her back to you, whenever you listen ... see ... " he cupped it to his ear, then gave it to the handsome American.

Chris took the pretty shell and mimicked the boy's actions. "Damn ... " he grinned, hearing the sound mirrored in his ear. "What's your name?" He asked the confident young salesman.

"Pedro." The boy smiled, offering his hand to the large one. "I live with my grandfather and two brothers. He's is old and cannot work. Diego and I take care of him."

"Diego one of your brothers?"

"Si, he is bigger than me, almost ten!" The boy boasted. "He's working on the fishing boats. I am too small and Enrico is too little and he's sick alot."

"You little brother?" Chris guessed, studying the boy's face and seeing too much bone on the thin body. The boy wasn't eating enough.

"Si, he is only four. My mother died when he was born." He eyed the ocean and lifted his small hand. "She was beautiful, like the sea. When I miss her, I come here and talk to her. Sometimes, Senor, I think she answers from heaven."

"Well, Pedro," Chris stood, placed the pretty shell on the spot next to his shirt and drew coins from his pocket. "You're a good boy. You take this to your grandfather and thank you for the gift."

"But I have no change," The boy protested, his eyes like saucers. "I cannot take this ... it's too much silver."

"You keep it, Son," Chris pushed the tiny hand back, making a fist out of it. "Go on home," he ruffled the brown hair and smiled at the excited cry of delight.

"Thank you, Senor ... .Thank you ... Madre Dios ... three dollars ... ." He ran off, his laughter giving the traveller a good smile. He put his new shirt on, gathered his things and found his horse. Wrapping the shell carefully in his dirty shirt and tucking it safely in his saddlebags, he headed for Fullerton.

With a deep exhalation, he opened his eyes and peered around the dark room. The light of the day was leaving town, while the short shift of twlight blue took hold. He lingered in the blankets for several moments, eyeing the room and gathering his scattered thoughts. He sat up carefully, not wanting to rouse J.D., who slept soundly on the chair next to him. Padding barefoot, he walked through the room slowly, wary of the dizziness that lingered. He saw a low light in the room next store and piles of clothes.

Ten minutes later, wearing denim pants, a light blue shirt and new boots, he headed for the small table bearing food. He selected two pieces of ham, a hunk of cheese and a hardboiled egg. He washed his meager meal down with cider and put on his gunbelt and coat. He wondered where the others were. He rationed that Larabee was not back yet, having not been greeted by the chisled profile at this side when he awoke. All he needed now, was a horse. He was still lost in thought, when a voice and hand startled him.

"You leaving?" J.D. asked, tapping Vin's shoulder. "Sorry," He grabbed the swaying man, when his arrival caused the healing body to jump.

"Hey Kid! How's Buck?" He walked slowly to the rogue's bed, placing his hand on the now cool brow. "Fever broke?"

"About an hour ago," Dunne answered, "You didn't answer my question."

"Yeah, I'm headin' out and I need yer word, J.D. Ya can't tell Nathan or Josiah. I ain't got enough strength t'argue with 'em." He frowned, not liking the way the womanizer was breathing. Despite his own pounding head and blurry vision, he lifted Buck, nearly falling on top of him as the whole room tilted. "Get a bunch o'pillows, tuck 'em behind 'im." That completed, he lowered the other man, satisified at his goal. "''s'better ... " he mumbled. "Chris back?"

"No, but Orrin wired. The army hasn't found Dixon or Garrett yet."

"Good!" The Texan replied to both.

"How come you're not afraid of me?" The youth pestered, watching the Texan eyeing the street through the window.

"Yer a runt," Vin teased, his warm smile filled with affection as he ruffled the youth's hair. "But yer our runt and if anybody else says that, I'll give 'im what fer. I want yer word ... " he paused, sat at the empty table and scratched out an note and a crude map. He wrapped the note around his harmonica and tied it with a strip of bandage. "Ya give this t'Larabee. He'll be showin' up soon. I gotta catch what road I can 'fore it gets t'dark." He handed the angry youth the message.

"Vin, you're gonna fall off your horse. You can't even walk! That's a lot of desert out there." The Bostonian's argument was interrupted by a weak voice.

" ... get ... ragged ... ass ... here ... "

Vin smiled then, before hiding the tug he felt at Wilmington's weak plea of concern. He moved back to the bed and paused at the injured man's side.

"Hey Bucklin! Ya look better. Reckon Miss Rosebud's takin' good care o'ya."

" ... don't ... change ... subject ... get ... back ... bed ... now ... " Buck moved his bandaged arm, pointing to the empty bunk. He managed with all his strength to make two angry, dark blue slits appear.

"Ya know I gotta do this," Vin said quietly. "I can't let 'im get away again ... He damn near killed ya. He's gonna pay fer that!"

" ... won't ... lose ... you ... not ... worth ... him ... Vin ... "

"I'm sorry," Vin gasped, gently lifting the limp hand. Buck was sleeping again, but his face was locked in distress. "Goodbye ... Buck ... .Bucklin ... " he managed, turning back to J.D.

"Vin, don't ... " J.D. protested again, watching the slim man walking slowly and staggering a bit.

"Ya tell Nate I gotta take his horse." Vin called back, slipping out the door.

"Vin!" J.D. started to follow him, but a loud bang turned him back. Buck was half out of the bed, his bandaged leg, which was elevated, was falling. By the time he got the larger man settled again, the Texan was gone, along with Nathan's horse. "Dammit!" he kicked the dirt, eyeing the darkening street. He ran back to Buck's side, sat down and read Vin's note. He eyed the map and nodded. Retying it, he slipped it into Buck's hand.

"Kid?" Buck croaked, " ... water ... "

"Hold on," J.D. hurried, filling a mug and allowing the thirsty man to drink. "I'm going after Vin, somebody's got to watch his back ... damn fool."

" ... Chris ... go ... " Buck protested, even in his sluggish state, he knew the road taken was potentially deadly.

"He's not here yet," the youth replied, "Listen up Buck, Vin left this for Chris," he tapped the harmonica, "He'll be here soon, you give it to him!"

" ... Kid ... " He gasped, reaching a hand out. Either it was his fever or delirium, but the determination on the youth's face made him seem more confident and much older. "Be careful ... "

"Hell, Buck, you know that's my middle name!"

" ... .thought it ... was ... Daniel ... " Buck teased, gripping the hand before the lights went out again.

If he told Nate or Josiah, they'd talk him out of leaving. He'd be left on babysitting duty with Buck. Ezra couldn't ride, but he could babysit. He'd be returning soon, having promised to come as soon as he finished supper. He kept his eye on the street and saw the gambler walking slowly towards the makeshift infirmary. Nodding, he eased his nimble body out the side door and to his horse.

Vin's progress was slow, the road and fell before him, like a dark line of unfettered ribbon. He rode for sometime, his keen instincts working overtime. It took all of the strength he had, to remain upright. Then a spasm in hit gut, sent him sideways right off the horse. He crawled to the tumbling shock of brush and vomited his supper. He saw the horse waiting and wanted to get the canteen, but couldn't get up.

"Aw, hell ... " he whispered as the dark sky and soft dirt sandwiched him into blackness.

"Hold it, Brad!" Dixon ordered, squinting in the darkness .The full moon send a silvery bath of light ahead of them. A lone horse, riderless and proud, stood several yards ahead.

"I'll check it out," the other said, wincing as he slipped the bandaged arm from it's sling. He eased off his horse, ran to the side road and made his way to the horse. When he saw the hide coat covering the curled up man, his smile was a bright as the noonday sun. "Well, well," he squatted down, taking the mare's leg from the holster and tossing it aside. He lifted his knife out and tipped the slack jaw underneath, where it was soft and waiting. He dug the point in long enough to cause a moan. "Small world, isn't it Tanner." He gave a whistle and found Dixon next to him, leaning over his horse.

"What the hell is he doing out here? I thought you said he was dead!"

"He will be," Garrett smiled, taking the hide coat off and tossing it aside. He turned the unprotesting body on his stomach and snapped his fingers. "Gimme some cord ... " After securing the wrists in a tightly, he stood and grinned.

"He might not be alone," Dixon eyed the road, 'As a matter of fact, I'd bet if his friends aren't with him, there not far behind."

"Okay," Garrett reasoned, feeling a rush of excitement as hours of torturing his enemy loomed in his mind. "You scout it out and take care of it, lead them away. I got unfinished business with Tanner. I'll meet you at Cougar's Pass tomorrow night."

"What about him?" Dixon nodded to the stilled body.

"By then, what's left of him will be the buzzarrds and coyote's dinner. Go on ... "

He secured the horse to a snatch of cactus arm and grabbed the prey's collar. He dragged the body for several yards, ignoring the cries of pain. He lit a fire to chase away the cold air that filled the desert night. He took his tools out, laid them on a rock nearby and bent over the blinking body. He untied the hands, took the shirt off and rolled him on his belly. He used his knife to slit the bandages off the ribs.

" ... can't have them ... that'll spoil the show ... " he assured the slobering face beneath him with a laugh.

The driving pain roused him but the cold air woke him up. He was freezing and his bare skin was pressed to the cold, unforgiving ground. Bareskin? He felt a fire by his face and tried to look, but his eyes wouldn't open.

" ... s'goin' on ... " he grunted outloud, as a hand clamped on his hair, dragging him forward. He screamed in pain as his hot ribcage rebelled clashing with the axe in his head. One arm was pulled high over his head and tied tightly, the other followed suit, pulled the other way. He sagged forward on his knees, his chin hitting his chest.

"I'm tired of waiting for you to wake up Tanner," Garrett snarled, picking up the leather whip. "It's time for payback!"

The lone figure rode into town, his keen gaze taking in both sides of the street. The cool green eyes were hooded under the flat black hat, well obscured. His search netted no gain; none of his men were present. He found the clinic and slid off his horse, taking the gift from the saddle bag. He stopped just inside the door, his eyes squinting in the dim light. He saw an oil lamp nearby, drew the light up and carried it across the room. He sat it down on the table next to the empty bunk where Ezra should be. Then he looked around the room.

"What the hell?" He grunted, eyeing the vacant Tanner bed. Frowning, he walked to the bed next to Vin's. He set the shell down on the table and eyed the body lying next to it. He studied Buck's face long and hard, seeing signs of improvement. His fingers moved to the forehead, confirming what his eyes saw. The fever was gone. Where were Tanner and Standish? He peeked in the pantry and small kitchen, finding them both empty. Then he saw the large, empty room next door, with tables full of donations. He walked to the window, his mouth a grim line. Nathan would never have let either one of them loose. Come to think of it, where was Jackson? Then the youth's face rose up. Funny he wasn't at Wilmington's side. Sanchez either. A horrid burst of coughing broke his thoughts and his long strides took him back to the bed. He sat on the side and drew Buck up, clapping his back. "Quit spittin' on me, Buck!"

The fog lifted, he blinked and adjusted his painful body. Heaving gulps of air subsided and he rubbed his eyes, wincing as his stitches pulled. "Chris?"

"Where's Vin and Ezra ... .Nathan?"

Buck eyed the pitcher. "Water?" He croaked painfully, his throat a barren dessert.

"Aw, hell, Buck, I'm sorry," He rose, filled the pitcher in the kitchen and returned. Two mugs later, the gasping man was ready to speak.

"I tried to stop 'im, Chris, I'm sorry. He took off just as it got dark. Nathan's beat ... barely on his feet. Ezra got a couple rooms at the hotel, Nathan's over there, I think. I don't know where Josiah is ... " he tapped the pitcher with his empty mug and had it refilled. Draining it again, he met the angry eyes. "He said to give you this ... " he handed the harmonica over. "That boy is stubborn ... " He watched the leader's face as he read the note, but it remained blank.

"J.D. took off after him ... "

"Oh that's reassuring," Chris spat out sarcastically, then regarded the note. "He heard soldier's talking outside. They got all Dixon's men in San Paulo ... but Garrett and Dixon escaped. They think their headed north, probably towards the Rockies," the blond sighed, tucked the map in his pocket and gazed at the harmonica. He ran a calloused thumb along the smooth metal edge, thinking of the raspy-voiced Texan.

Buck saw it then, it fell rapidly and caused him to flinch. He started to say something, but didn't. It would be an exercise in futility, he knew the man that well. Until the blue-eyed tracker was back in safe harbor, Chris Larabee would wear the veil of worry. He saw the shell then, and cocked his head.

"My own piece of the ocean," Chris replied with a sigh, tucking away the harmonica and note in his pocket. "Here, close your eyes ... " He waited and held the shell next to Buck's ear. He saw the smile appear instantly.

"Damn," Buck whispered, "That sure brings back memories."

"You've been to California?"

"Wrong end." Wilmington opened his eyes, as the other's hand withdrew, taking the conch with it, "When I was real little, we lived with my Uncle Dan in Maryland for awhile. He lived near the beach." He knew then, by the gentle touch Chris's fingers gave the item, who the gift was for. He smiled, feeling a warmth inside and watched as Larabee carefully set the conch shell on the table, next to the empty bed. "I'll watch over it, until that sorry-assed Texan gets back."

"Thanks, Buck," Chris found a half-smile, sighed wearily and gave the other man's leg a pat. "I gotta go, I got me a Tanner to catch."

" ... tie his sorry ass ... down ... next..ti ... time ... " Buck yawned.

"I just might do that!"

"Helluva time ... to be laid up." Buck hissed in frustration and saw a hand lance out. He snagged it, as the voice followed.

"No man I'd rather ride with," Chris offered solemnly and saw Buck's eyes light up. "You want me to send Nate back?" He paused by the long table near the wall, where bandages and other supplies waited. He unfolded a long linen napkin and placed several roles of gauze inside. He grabbed a bottle of carbolic and an extra canteen.

"Hell no," Buck eased his aching body back down, wincing at the steady throbbing in his injured leg. "Nathan looks worse than me. I'll tell you something, Chris, God didn't waste his time on that man. He's really special."

"Yeah," The other agreed, "I saw it first hand. Get some sleep." He paused long enough to fill a burlap sack with fruit, crackers and some jerky.

"Sleep ... " Buck grumbled. "All I do is sleep ... alone." he added, giving his oldest friend a grin. "Chris!" he called out as the body reached the door. "Keep your head up, okay? I didn't bring any mournin' clothes."

"Will do, Bucko!" he replied with a wink and stole into the night.

Twenty minutes later, he was inside Ezra's room. The gambler was sleeping on his side; across the room another body was fast asleep. Chris paused over Nathan's bed, seeing how aptly the man below fit Buck's description. His face was full of shadows and rimmed with fatigue. Too much time had passed already and Vin was getting further away. He scrawled out a note and left it in Ezra's vest pocket. It was the first thing he checked in the morning, securing his money clip. He was about to mount his horse, when a familiar voice split the dark night.

"Chris?"

He peered into the darkness, a hand eased onto his pearl-handled colt. He saw Josiah appear, wincing with every step, rubbing his injured shoulder. Next to him was Major Thomas Kelly.

"You coming or going?" the preacher nodded to the horse.

"Going." Chris stated, putting his boot in the stirrup. "I got business out of town. I talked to Buck, saw Ezra and Nate. He okay?" he paused and saw the gray head bob sideways.

"He's worn out, sleep's the best thing for him." Sanchez moved closer, "I hear you got a mean Latin accent."

"Word travels fast," Chris quipped of his stormy meeting earlier that day.

"President got here an hour ago, met with me and the Major. You sure made an impression on him."

Chris climbed on his horse, turning to the eldest of the seven. "Buck's coughing a lot, keep an eye on him."

"Will do," Josiah nodded.

"Going to find Mister Tanner?" Kelly spoke, watching the dark figure looming high above. "I stopped in to see Mister Wilmington, he was asleep. I saw the empty bed and found out, via the livery clerk, that your friend rode out a couple hours ago. I'd like to come along."

"No," Chris said curtly, turning the horse.

"I want you to know, I understand Mister Tanner's quest. A young boy beaten and forced to watch his family mutilated by barbarians ... " he paused, seeing green coals burning from under the flatbrimmed hat. They were directed past him to the preacher. "No, he didn't tell me, no one did. I was on the investigative detail who arrived after that massacre. I overheard him in the saloon the night before we left your town."

"When then I guess you heard enough," Chris spat back, grabbing his reins.

"Enough to admire a man who can bear so much weight on his shoulders and keep his head held so high. To endure the horrors of a prison during the war at his age ... again tortured by men in blue. Yet he climbed on the train. I don't know him very well, but I admire that strength. It's so rare and something your born to."

"You can tell Vin when I bring him back," Chris turned the horse, but a gloved hand on the pommel halted the motion.

"I have another reason ... " Kelly began his testimony.

When he finished speaking, Chris sighed, rubbed his neck and stared into the dark abyss of a horizon. He didn't know what he was riding into in the desert. He replayed the words over again. slowly and turned back, nodding once. "Josiah, tell the others, but use you judgement."

"Understood," Sanchez nodded, knowing Chris didn't want a troop of green, shoothappy soldiers gunning Vin down. "God keep you, Brother," he shook Larabee's hand and watched them ride out.

The murky netherworld he was trapped in suddenly broke wide open. Thunderous pain exploded in his head and chest at the same time. Rippling shards of lightning scorched his tender back, causing him to cry out. By the fifth or sixth time the lightning bolt danced on his back, his eyes were wide open. His senses were fully charged now, heightened by the intense pain coursing through his body. He heard the crack of a whip and felt the leather bit his skin again. His body danced with every lash, straining against the cords. Gasping in pain, he licked the spittle drooling from his mouth and turned his wide eyes sideways. The ropes weren't tied tightly. With every lash, he pulled harder, loosening them more. Then suddenly, the lashes stopped, he sucked in a ragged draw of breath and heard Garrett cursing.

The arm was numb now, the fingers wouldn't hold the grip of the whip any longer. Blood ran down his arm, the force of his muscles ripped his stitches and sent pain ripping through him. He glanced at Tanner, who was slumped on his knees, blood welling from the dozen streaks of justice on his back. He staggered to his horse, got his canteen and uncorked it, taking a long drink. He spent several minutes, washing the bloody arm and tying a kerchief around it. The red pain throbbed hard, causing him to hiss and curse. He left his guard down and turned too late, just as the nimble body hit him.

"Yer gonna die ... ya fuckin' animal ... I'm gonna gut ya like a fish ... " Vin panted, using his fists on the other man's body. He looped the long drape of cord from his wrist around Garrett's throat and pulled is mercilessly. His blue eyes were wide in rage as he watched the other man fighting for breath.

Garrett was on his knees, Tanner behind him, choking the life from him. He saw dark spots dancing and felt his last air giving out. Frantic, he took his hands from his throat, recalled the black and blue damaged chest and elbowed his opponent hard.

Vin dropped to his knees as the sharp pain ripped into him, taking his breath away. Both men took several minutes to regroup. Vin spotted the knife several feet away and sprang.

Garrett heard the light steps and rolled over several times, picking up his disgarded gun and firing.

Vin heard the shot just before the bullet sank into his leg, high in thigh, near his hip. The pain shot up his right side, causing him to stumbled and fall. Garrett's boot hit the new injured area hard, causing a shower of red, blue and yellow stars to crash over his head. Through the multicolored mass of fire, his bloodied hand found a rock and he lashed out. He heard a grunt and felt the weight leave his back. He rolled over, saw Garrett lying motionless and felt his own eyes flutter and shut.

He didn't have time to be afraid, his mission drove him onward. Vin was out here somewhere, hurt and alone. He learned enough in the short time he knew the expert tracker, to pick up a few tricks. He read the sky and recalled Vin's map. He placed the landmarks and recalled the route the two murderers would take north. J.D.'s head shot up, when he heard hooves approaching. He eased his own horse into a cluster of rocks and waited. The moon shed enough light for him to see who it was. The fact he was alone was disturbing. He pulled his gun out and aimed, firing several feet ahead of the horse.

"That's far enough, Colonel," he shouted down. "Next one goes goes into your yellow hide. Get off that horse, you're under arrest."

"Who the hell are you?" Dixon called into the night, sliding his hand down for his pistol. A second shot whispered past his hand, causing the horse to skitter.

"Something wrong with your hearing?" Dunne yelled, "Take the pistol out with your left hand, two fingers only toss it behind you. Same with the rifle."

"Do I look like a fool to you son?" Dixon peered in the inky night, trying to figure out where the man was. He stalled, ignoring the directive.

"You look like a yellow-bellowed, spineless moron with no morals." J.D. replied, "Ugly too ... quit stalling and toss those guns. Just as easy for me to pluck them off your dead body. You're wanted know you, army's hunting you ... .do it ... "

Reluctantly, the soldier complied. Whoever the man was he'd have to show himself eventually. Once he got close, he could use the knife he had up his sleeve.

"You're doing real good for a idiot," J.D. shouted, "Get off the horse and walk to the saguarro, hands in the air." He slid off his horse, tied him to the bushes and kept his weapon trained on the army man's back. He waited until the older man was near the tall desert tree and moved closer. "Hands behind your back!" he ordered, reaching for his handcuffs. He was closing in, when another voice split the dark night.

"Hold it, Son, nobody move."

"Great!" Dixon muttered, "nothing like a crowd." He eyed the five men who rode in, looking lean, mean and hard. The only riders out this late on this stretch of road were usually bandits. The kind that leave no witnesses. "I warn you, I am an officer in the United States Army ... "

"Oh that's rich!" J.D. snorted, "You wouldn't know honor if it bit your ass."

"Shut up, both of you!" The deep voice boomed, "Calvin, get a lantern lit ... "

J.D. backed up slowly, until he had plenty of room between him, the strangers and the colonel. The light showed five men, dusty, dirty and weary. He sighed in relief, when he saw the leader wore a silver star.

"I'm Dave Birch, the marshall from Reading, up north. We're part of a posse tracking bank robbers who hit three towns up there and killed five people."

"Thank God, I'm Sheriff John Dunne, this man is wanted for murder ... "

"Sheriff?" Birch's voice rose in incredulation as he eyed the youth, "Aren't you a little short?"

"Not where it counts," Dunne growled in a Larbeesque voice, narrowing his eyes, squaring his shoulders and standing firm.

"No, I can see that," the marshall grinned at the spunky kid. "So what's this about him wanted for murder?"

"It's a lie," Dixon countered, "He's was trying to rob me when you approached. As you pointed out, he's much too young to be a law man."

"Was I talking to you?" Birch barked, eyeing the arrogant calveryman. "Keep your mouth shut." He ordered, before turning back to the dark-haired boy. "Go on kid ... "

"He's the one ... one of two men ... well, he's the leader of a band of uh ... a gang whose been robbing stages and wagons for almost a year. He was responsible for that train wreck near Queen's Cut."

"What train wreck?"

"What train wreck?" J.D. repeated to the man behind the sheriff who asked, "A couple days ago, it was in every paper. "

"We've been riding sand for five days, Kid, we ain't got time for papers." Birch replied.

"Lots of people were killed and hurt, including friends of mine." J.D. continued, "We're working for the territorial judge, trying to help the army catch the gang. He set off dynamite and blew up part of the track."

"You read too many dime novels, Son," Dixon laughed, "Do I look like a highwayman?"

"You look like somebody who doesn't understand English." Birch spat, "I ain't gonna tell you again. Next time you open that mouth, I'm putting a gag in it, Comprehende?" He saw the head nod, "Good. Go on, Son"

"The army sent word out that a lot of silver was heading to San Diego. But there wasn't any, the put rocks in the shipment. But nobody knew. We have witnesses who saw him," he nodded at Dixon, "in the car after it blew. They didn't get any silver, they stole the new army rifles instead. They have a base down in San Paulo, over the border where they take their loot. We caught the rest of them, only him and Garrett got away."

"Garrett?"

"Young, blond and dressed like a soldier," Dunne said, "He's out here somewhere too."

"Where'd you come from?" Birch asked the boy.

"Fullerton, the army's there, nearest town to the accident."

"Okay," he nodded turning to the army man, "What's your story?"

"I told you, I was on my way back to the Fort, when he accosted me."

"You sayin' he made all that up, about the train and you robbing it? Seems to have all the information." Birch stated.

"I'm not saying he made it up," Dixon replied, "It's very possible all those details are so vivid because he was involved in the robbery. I can verify my whereabouts, my men are camped to the south. A courier sent word from the Fort that I was needed. My escort was detained by an encouter with an old enemy."

"You're full of shit, Dixon!" Dunne cried out, realizing the cryptic clues alluded to Garrett and Vin. "Where is he?"

"Hey, calm down!" Birch warned, "You claim this story of yours can be verified in Fullerton?"

"Yeah, but ... "

"Okay, then we'll go there. No fancy moves, either of you. I'm tired and I get awful nervous with my gun when I'm cranky. Let's go."

"No!" J.D. heard Chris's words come back to him then, about standing up for what's right when you are outnumbered.

"I told you he was not the cherubic innocent he contends to be ... " Dixon drolled, then put up two hands defensively, when Birch pointed his gun.

J.D. took advantage of that and skittered backwards, taking position in the dark in a cluster of rocks.

"Where'd he go?" Calvin asked, peering into the dark dessert. "That army guy is probably right. Why would that kid bolt if he wasn't guilty?"

"Because I got a friend missing ... hurt ... lost out here and he needs me." J.D. shouted. "He was hurt on the train and Dixon's partner, Garrett, is out to kill Vin. If I go back to Fullerton, I'll lose too much time and Vin could die out here."

"Dammit!" Birch took his hat off and slapped his thigh. "Shit! Look, Son ... "

"I ain't your son, I gotta name, J.D. Dunne, you best start using it."

"Just what we need after five days out," Birch muttered, "an uppity youngun. Okay, Dunne, you squattin' in them rocks isn't helping your friend either. If he is out here, hurt, he'll die by morning.Gets cold out here at night, no water, snakes and scorpions ... "

"Yeah, alright," J.D. chewed his lip. "You send one of your men to Fullerton. They'll back me up and send the army back. Meanwhile, the rest of us wait here. Any of you makes any funny moves this way, and I'm shooting first."

"Jesus, I should have retired last year, " Birch sighed, "Set up camp, Lobbs, looks like we're staying for awhile. Sherman, ride to Fullerton and get to the bottom of this. Dixon, sit down and keep your mouth shut. Calvin, get his guns and check the saddlebags. Okay Kid ... we'll do it your way."

J.D. shifted in the rocks, staring in the darkness. Was Vin out there? Was Dixon telling the truth or just baiting him? Would Chris get back in time? He kept his gun trained on Dixon's body, taking turns shooting off limbs and other parts in his head.

"What is it?" Major Thomas Kelly asked, watching the other man jump from his horse.'

"It's Vin's," Chris said, picking up the discarded hide coat and mare's leg. He secured them on his horse, before lighting a long match. "Two sets of tracks ... they split up. One of them has Vin."

"Okay, I'll go north, see where they lead," Kelly suggested, "We'll meet up later?"

"Yeah," Chris said, a chill running up his spine as he eyed the dark dessert. "If this dead end's I'll follow your trail. Major Kelly?" He waited until the other man turned back, "thanks ... "

"We haven't caught anyone yet, but you're welcome, Mister Larabee." He nodded and rode off.

Blood. Fire. Pain. The three images clashed his his battered body and exploded in his fevered brain. He peeled an eye open and saw a bloody hand. The fingers wiggled and he realized it was his hand. A long strip of leather was tied to his sore wrists. His back raged, his chest was on fire and his head erupting in pain. He was on his belly and rolled his eyes, spotting a fire burning. Then he saw the blond man lying nearby and a rage filled him. He rolled over, trying to find strength enough to stand. He saw her then, her beautiful young face marred by cuts and smashed in. Her large, doelike brown eyes were wide and unseeing.

["Bazi ... " he cried out, reaching a trembling hand to brush the hair from her eyes. He gut exploded then, he crawled away from her, leaving his bile on the road. There were bodies littering the camp, the stench of the burning remains of his family choked him. A rage overtook him and he took a deep breath, praying to the Spirits for strength. Then a calmness filled him and he stood, hissing in pain as his right leg nearly gave way under his weight. He limped heavily, using the other one and made his way to Garrett. He took off the enemy's shirt and tossed it away. He tucked the knife into his waistband. He used the blood pouring from his leg to place marks on his face. He sat then, closed his eyes, raised his palms and began to pray.

Chris followed the tracks for sometime, then he spotted the glow of a fire. He eased off his horse, and picked up his pace, hearing a familiar voice. He froze, when he saw the scene. Vin was rocking back and forth, his face covered in blood. Chris slid down, grabbed his canteen and saddlebags and made his way towards the fire. Garrett was face down, stripped to the waist and not moving.

"Vin! You got him! How bad are you ... "

["Daiboo!" Vin screamed, seeing the strange white man approach. He shot up, ignoring the explosion of fire in his hip and chest and hit the other man hard, driving them both to the ground. He slammed the blond head hard and felt the body slump with a sharp cry. He stradled the other man trapping one hand beneath the lean body. His hot eyes were full of rage, peering down at another murderer of his family. With the smell of the dead still filling him, he set about the business of giving their uneasy spirits rest. He raised the knife high, bared his teeth and howled.

"No!" Chris screamed, barely recognizing the wild-eyed hellion who attacked him. His head was still reeling from the blow Vin delivered. He was dizzy and the whole scene was spinning wildly. He got his free hand up just in time, the knife missed his throat and cut into the softness by his shoulder. "Vin for Christ's sake it's me ... it's Chris. Vin ... Vin ... " He frowned, feeling an almost superhuman strength that only comes with festering rage like the kind possessing his friend. Vin used his wily body well, digging his knee hard into the groin, which sent an almost parylzing pain to his lower body. He felt himself weakening as the knife moved closer. Sweat poured from both of them, Vin's dripping through the dried blood-paint on his face. It dripped off the lost Texan and hit his own cheeks and chest. Chris's hand wavered and weakened, he grunted in frustration, the knife came down again , the tip now on his jugular. He had to do something ... he wormed his trapped hand free and grabbed his gun. Maybe he could hit Vin just hard enough to knock him free.

Vin felt the move and dropped the knife, his hand caught the gun at the same time. He grunted and groaned, his whole body screaming in agony. But he wouldn't let them down, her dark eyes rose over the moon, giving him strength. They rolled and grunted, each fighting pain to possess the gun. It was pressed between their bodies, when it went off. A sharp cry of pain rose in the night, mixing with the smoke of the fire. Two bodies lie prone, one atop the other, neither moving.

Part Seven

NOTE: The language Vin uses in this section is Shoshoni. The Comanches were an offshoot of the Shoshoni. They were a tribe of the plains, courageous, warlike, expert horseman and buffalo hunters. The site I got the words from is: http://www.isu.edu/~loetchri/shoshonidictionary.htm

A loud shot close by forced his eyes open. With a sharp series of coughs, he rolled over and blinked, studying the blurry fire just a few feet away. He winced and ran a hand on the sticky wet lump on his head. Tanner would pay for that ... he made another vow. He was tired and hurt and needed to end this. He spend a few minutes mentally butchering the slippery bastard, using his serraded knife, slow and easy. He'd take his balls first, then go north, cutting him open and pull his entrails out. He wanted to see him hurt. He took a deep breath and rolled his pounding head sideways, then smiled. Two for the price of one. That arrogant blond cowboy who had a soft spot for Tanner needed to be taken down a peg. They were lying in a heap several feet away. He saw one of the bodies move and smiled again.

"You're a crazy bastard, Tanner," he hissed, rising to his knees and looking for his gun. "I thought that blond cowboy meant something to you."

The voice caused Vin to swivel and the furies in him rose up, dancing with devilish delight. The hot prines of their pitchforks stabbed at his heart. He was still here ... leering over Bazi's corpse. The lust in his eyes was still bright. He glanced at the stilled face of the strange white man beneath him. The warmth of the man's blood clung to his naked chest, giving him strength. He grunted and shoved his body aside. The murderer of his sister still drew breath. Vin took a deep breath, feeling his father and grandfather's spirits close by. They whispered words in his ear, that which bespoke his being.

"Ne Nabidendegaigwahni'i!" He screamed, for he indeed was a warrior. Driven by a force far greater than physical, he felt no pain now. He threw himself at the beast, with the force of the ghosts of his family fueling him.

Garrett hadn't expected Tanner to react so swiftly and with such force. The lean body drove into him hard, propelling them both of them to the ground. They rolled and tumbled, exchanging blows to the face and body. Vin felt himself growing dizzy and gasping for air. He wrapped the cord still latched to his wrist around Garrett's throat and gripped it tight. The other man twitched beneath him, his blue eyes bulging, then he sagged and Vin released him. He wasn't done with the murderer yet. He staggered a few feet and found a canteen. He took a good gulp of water, still gasping for breath. His chest was on fire and the stench of the dead was too strong. He jogged over to the other invader, regarding the silent man. He had to finish with Bazi's killer first, then he would dispose of this one. He took the long black coat off the man and cast it aside. His fingers felt along the side of the green shirt, now stained crimson. He took the man's belt off and rolled him over, ignoring the cry of pain that sprung from his lips. He tied the rousing man's wrists behind his back, just as the eyes parted and the blond head rose.

The fire in his side answered the question of where the bullet went. The pain wasn't so bad, searing a path along his ribcage. His head still ached and he tried to move his hand to check the wound, only to find he was tied up.

"V ... V ... Vin ... " he choked, inhaling a mouthful of dust and dirt. He felt Vin's hand on his back and turned his head, just as the images of the violent attack came back. Vin was lost in time, locked in a nightmare where his family was slaughtered. " ... I ... can ... help ... you ... untie ... "

"Nooooooo!"

Chris winced as Vin's voice jumped into an unknown dialect. He didn't understand any of the rambling words, but the tone of his voice and the force with every syllable matched the velocity at which his face was ground in the dirt. The weight left his back and it took him several minutes to find the landscape without it tilting. Every movement brought pain to his wounded side and he knew the dizziness was blood loss as well as the head injury. He couldn't pass out ... Vin needed him. Gingerly, he rolled over, then watched as Vin knelt by Garrett.

Vin tied his left hand to Garrett's left hand, connected by the long thatch of leather still on his wrist. He backhanded him hard, several times, until the blue eyes open. Then he stood, knife in hand and motioned for the other to approach.

"You are one stupid bastard, Tanner. You should have killed me when you had the chance. I don't know what game you're playing ... " He hissed as the nimble man leaped, swinging the knife in a graceful arc that sliced through his side. "Game's over, bastard and you lose." He kicked his right leg, hitting the side of the other's knee.

"You better hope he doesn't you fuckin' animal," Chris shot back, "'cause I will finish what he started."

"From where I'm standing, Mister,' Garrett send back, hissing as the knife cut his shoulder. "You're next on his list. Hell, he already put a bullet in you ... "

Vin dodged and bobbed, time and time again, slicing parts of Garrett's bare arms, chest and back. Blood ran in rivulets down the other's chest. Vin felt the tension leaving on the other side, his opponent was weakening.

"I can't ... figure ... how ... you're ... still ... standing ... " Garrett coughed, spitting up blood. The other man was toting several injuries, including a serious head wound. The blood drenched right hip and thigh dictated his bullet found a home. How could he still be on his feet? He swung a hard fist towards the other's face, changing course at the last minute. He hit the right leg hard, drinking in the sharp cry of pain.

"Vin! Look out!" Chris screamed, watching Garrett using his superior strength to roll them towards the fire.

Something inside Vin's lost, troubled mind reacted to the sharp voice from behind him. He turned just in time, missing his head being shoved in the fire by inches. He felt the heat of the flames baking his neck and twisted, trying to get the other man off his back.

Garrett twisted Vin's left arm, holding it over the fire, using the flames to burn the cord off that bound them. The fact that he was burning his young victim made it sweeter and he enjoyed the screams of pain. He used his right fist to smash a blow into the other's ribcage, which gained another cry. As Fate would have it, he found his gun, grabbing it and aiming it at the back of the unruly mass of brown curls.

The flames seared his tender flesh on the side of his left arm, from the wrist and up the forearm. He jerked his body, trying to move, but a violent fist to his injured ribs caused another explosion. He felt the air leaving his chest and used his left hand to pick up a piece of the burning wood.

Vin's screams of agony and the smell of burning flesh brought Chris to his feet. He staggered a few feet and sucked in a deep breath, then slammed his body into Garrett's. At the same time, his best friend turned, shoving a burning piece of wood into Garrett's neck. That action sent the injured gunslinger backwards, hitting the ground hard. He saw the whole scene darken for a moment, as all three men lie prone, gasping for breath. Chris wanted to move, but couldn't , he was paralyzed by pain. Vin rolled over, away from the fire and wasn't moving. Garrett got to his knees, looking for the gun.

His chest glistened with blood as he crawled away. He felt dizzy and knew the numerous wounds Tanner inflicted, were beginning to take effect. He got the gun and stood awkwardly, while the ground seemed to move under his feet. He heard a cry and turned, as Tanner rose, heading for him, knife held high. His numbed fingers couldn't grip the gun correctly and he needed a few more minutes. He eyed the inky black desert, which was just a few feet away. He ran pell mell, his jagged path lead into virtual darkness.

"No ... Vin ... come ... back ... " Chris whispered, fighting off pain and a black curtain of unconsciousness. But the lost soul had one goal ... to find and kill his family's killer. "No ... " He screamed as Vin disappeared into the virtual black that began a few feet from the fire.

Like two animals, they stalked each other. Each bleeding and hurt, the wounds only seemed to make each choice more difficult. Garrett knew Tanner could move quietly, so he remained still. He closed his eyes and listened for breathing or footsteps, but heard nothing. He was behind a cluster of rocks, the only noise he heard was the night wind. For several moments, he remained lock still, then peeked his head around.

Vin was ontop of the rock, each step one of burning agony. To his left was a steep canyon, so every step was crucial. His left arm was on fire and the pain in his right leg throbbed with no mercy. He was losing ground and this had to be his final move. He watched Garrett below him, quivering like a young maiden. He smiled then, closed his eyes and leapt.

"Arrgggghhh ... ." Garrett wailed as the nimble body hit him square in the back.

The flight to his enemy took all his air away. His numb hand lost the knife and he couldn't breathe. It was then he realized that Garrett dropped the gun. He saw it a few feet away, nearly waving to him. He sucked in his breath and dove. Grabbing it, he heard footsteps, wheeled and fired, striking the man in the shoulder. He fired again, hitting his leg. Garrett fell back, disappearing into darkness. For several moments Vin couldn't move. He remained on his back, shivering in the freezing night air. He had nothing left. He was lost and alone and utterly defeated by his own body. He was dying. He cast his heavy eyes on the beguiling moon and sent his heart felt emotions skyward into a prayer for foregivenss.

The paralyzing pain that engulfed Chris Larabee dissolved when the two shots rang out. He slammed his eyes shut, seeing a horrid vision on Vin's dead body which invaded without invite. Those large blue eyes that captivated so many, were open and without sight. Gasping for breath, he felt his eyes grow full, as the finality of the situation took hold with venomous talons. That which he had come to embrace, a blue-eyed spirit of the wind, was lost to him forever. That pain hurt worse than his wounds; his body could heal, his soul couldn't. Then it came, softly at first, carried on the night air. Words ... choking words..forced from a place deep inside. Broken by bitters sobs of agony, they rose skyward, drifting over the fire and into the injured man's heart. He smiled, heaved a hugh sigh of relief and let the moisture escape. The words were Indian dialect, but the accent, the tone, the voice - were 100% Tanner. He lived!

"Viiiinnnnnn!" He screamed with all his heart. He didn't want Vin to feel deserted or defeated. The echo of the words haunted him, like a broken soul cut by jagged pieces of a life too harsh. "Vin! Vin! I need you!"

The injured Comanche manchild froze and his breath caught. That voice ... he knew that voice. His heart sang, he wasn't alone. His older brother had come back for him. The tears on his face that fell in sorrow, now traced a path of joy. He crawled towards the voice, which beckoned from the other side of the fire. Where the spirits playing tricks? He saw the glow of orange and moved onward, slowly on his hands and knees, one hand in front of the other. The orange ball got bigger and a face appeared. He choked on his tears as the unmistakable features of his beloved older brother appeared.

"Te ... he ... no ... " he whispered, afraid that it would disappear. The bravest of all warriors, his tall, strong brother, older by ten moons. Fierce, proud and courageous, he'd learned all he knew from his brother. There were the bronzed skin and features he knew so well. Dark hair swirled in the breeze and the black eyes were trained on him. Was he real? "Teheno!" He screamed, raising one bloodied hand from the dirt.

"Yeah, it's me, Vin!" Chris's whole body slumped with relief. He didn't know who 'Teheno' was, but the razor-sharp raw emotions in Tanner's voice matched the shimmering affection in the moist blue eyes. Whoever this person was, Vin had cared for him deeply. Father? Grandfather? It mattered not, it brought Vin back to him. "A little closer ... .come on ... you can do it." Larabee coached, watching his weak friend struggle for each small move.

It was just a few more feet, to where his brother was waiting. Then he saw Bazi's body and froze, his blue eyes wide with horror and shame. Teheno had trusted him to watch over his wife and new son. How had he been repaid? He'd failed his brother ... he failed ... he failed.

"Gai' Gai' ... " he denied, hoping the sightless corpse would go away.

"What?" Chris frowned, seeing the drastic change. He followed the line of Vin's eyes, to a spot a few feet away. What were those tortured blue eyes seeing that caused such agony? He had to break through and did it the only way he knew how. "Look at me!" He thundered in anger, "Quit cryin' and get your ass over here, I need you. I can't help you unless you untie me."

"Maiku," Vin agreed, hearing the stormy voice he knew so well. After all, Teheno had come back for him. He was angry but he was still a brother. He came back for you. He crawled closer and finally reached the buckskin panted leg of his older brother. He collapsed then, as pain raged through his battered body. It was as he fought every ragged breath, gasping and gulping air, he felt a stong hand on the side of his face.

"You're okay," Chris said in a calm voice, tapping the bloody cheek. "Get my knife from the saddlebags, Vin. Untie me ... Vin. understand?"

"Haa'," Vin nodded, seeing his brother's hands bound. His eyes roamed the campsite, until they spotted the buffalo skin sacs his brother took hunting. Sucking in his breath, he crawled over, found the knife and clamped it into his teeth. The road back was difficult, he wavered and fell, only Teheno's voice kept him going. Sweat poured down his marked face, his head was soaked and he'd gone far beyond where human endurance ended. He kept his fevered eyes glued to Teheno's face and used the strong tone to guide him home. Again, he found the buckskinned leg and collapsed, spitting the knife out. He heard a cry of pain as Teheno moved sideways. He sucked in his breath, held his body up with his left hand and slit the leather with the right.

"Alright," Chris eased his body up to a sitting position, eyeing the slim, half-naked body curled next to him. "Christ, you're a mess ... " He hauled Vin upright, supporting him, while staring at the warpaint on his cheeks. The blue eyes were dull with pain and fatigue. Then they moved past him, to the same spot that tore his heart before.

"Bazi ... " Vin choked, turning his shamed face away from his brother.

"What's wrong?" Chris demanded, seeing shame and humilation on the marred, fine features. "Look at me!"

"Gai'" Vin denied, dropping his head in shame. He failed. He was thirteen moons now and old enough to be a man, yet he'd failed. "Gai'" he tried to move away, but her eyes were everywhere. "Bazi ... Bazi ... "

"Bazi?" Chris muttered, still holding Vin by the shoulders. The firm flesh beneath his fingers trembled in fear and the shame shadowed the troubled face. He added the clues then, the trauma was because Garrett raped and murdered Vin's sister and killed her child. If 'Bazi' was the sister, then this shame and humilation in his hands must be tied to Teheno. Was Teheno Bazi's husband? He tipped the face up, the eyes so full of pain it left him speechless for several seconds. He gripped the square jaw, remembering that the body in front of him was a man, but the mind was back in time, a young boy. "It's okay, Vin, I'm not angry. I understand about Bazi. It wasn't your fault. I'm proud of you." There was slight movement, the words found home! He saw some of the shame flee and the head moved a little. "Get your head up! You're no coward, dammit!" That sharp tone cut through the rest, and the head came up. The blues were still clouded with pain, but they held no more shame. The lingering pools of emotion there were grief for a loved one. He opened his arms and nodded, welcoming the desolate soul.

"Bazi?" Vin squeaked, collasping against his brother's strong chest.

"Easy, Vin ... " Chris held on and waited, but no tears came. It was one agonizing, gut-ripping sob that lanced through him. One hand was on the damp, brown curls, the other on Vin's bruised back. He felt the body go limp then and eased him down. His fingers found a pulse, not weak or strong, in a scary world in between. He eyed the meager campsite and made a mental list of what needed to be done. His horse was long gone, having bolted at the gunshot earlier. He didn't know where Garrett's horse was, it wasn't near here.

First, his own wound needed to be checked. He got to his feet, took two small steps and then two more, finally arriving at the saddlebags. He took whiskey out, placed it on the flat rocks near the fire and pulled his shirt up. He cried out as skin stuck to the wound, ripping free made a white hot pain. He took a small, shaving mirror, about four inches in diameter and held it to his side. It confirmed what his eyes saw, a very deep graze several inches long. He doused it with whiskey, cursing a blue streak and drawing tears of pain as the fire erupted in his side. He used a small roll of gauze, wrapping it around his wound, just below the ribcage. He buttoned the shirt and began the task of tending to his young friend.

Kneeling by Vin's side, he noted the horrid trail of discoloration on his swollen face and chest. Painful, but not life threatening. He cut the leather cords remaining on each wrist and gently examined the burn on Vin's left arm. It was on the underside, from the side of his hand past his wrist and halfway to the elbow. He gently turned the unconscious man on his side, his temper flaring when he saw the cruel kisses of the lash. Sighing, he eyed the filthy bandage covering Vin's head wound. So much to do and his own strength ebbing. Lastly, he eyed the severe saturation on Vin's upper thigh. He slid the knife through the hole and cut the fabric away. He continued the path, halfway around the leg.

"Shit!" His fingers confirmed his worse fear, the bullet was still inside. He eyed the fire nearby and moved behind Vin. Lifting him under the arms, he quickly moved him closer to the warmth to shield him from the cold night air. He spent several minutes lining up what tools he had. Full bottle of whiskey, half bottle of carbolic, three canteens, two knives, bandages and some food. He used the linen cloth the bandages were wrapped and a tiny amount of water. He washed the blood from Vin's face and felt the heat rising. The head wound under the dirty bandage was red and angry. He dabbed it with carbolic, but didn't recover it, knowing he'd need the bandages for Vin's arm and leg. The stilled man never stirred, when the tender ministrations continued. He wanted to clean the wounds on the sharpshooter's back, but didn't have a bedroll to put him on. They weren't deep and he eyed the burlap bag that held the food. He slit the sides and it opened up fairly wide.

He used a small amount of water to dab the area around the nasty hole in Vin's upper thigh. Then he used some carbolic on it, this drew a sharp hiss of pain and the blue eyes shot open.

"Sorry," he apologized, resting a hand on the shivering man's shoulder. The eyes blinked several times, then closed again. He didn't have anything to boil the knife in, however, he did clean it with whiskey. Then he turned it under the flames several times. The dizziness returned and he sat back, using his free hand to rub his eyes. Not now ... can't pass out. A raspy voice, sounding so very young and unsure, broke his rest.

" ... hagani ... naakwa ... " Vin asked, confused. What had happened? Where was he? What was Teheno doing with that knife? "Teheno ... hagani?"

"Uh ... " Chris winced, following Vin's line of sight. He never saw the tracker's eyes look any larger. The Adam's apple bobbed several times and the pale lips trembled. He'd seen Vin survive worse, but that was as an adult, not a shocked boy. "You got a bullet in your leg, Vin, I gotta take it out. It's been in there too long. It's already bringin' a fever. I can't risk leaving it in there, I don't know when help will come." He prattled, his nerves jangled. He saw the confusion deepen and heard the injured man's shallow breathing increase. "Damn ... I should have woken Nathan up."

"Nat ... than ... " Vin had trouble getting the name out. "Na ... th ... an ... "

"Yeah, he'll fix whatever I mess up, don't worry!" Chris exuded with confidence. He picked up the Whiskey and lifted Vin's head. "Here, this will help with the pain ... go on ... "

Vin paused, eyeing the knife, the bottle and Teheno's face. The pain in his leg was wicked and he eyed the knife again. It was then he made the connection. Teheno was going to fix the pain. "eN?" he asked, pointing to his brother and then his leg.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to cut it out, it's gonna hurt like Hell. But you're tough ... you'll be okay. Here ... "

Vin sniffed the bottle and wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. "Gai'" he denied, he didn't like the water that burned.

"Look, it's not so bad, see?" Chris took a small sip and watched the pale brown eyebrows furrow. Finally the head nodded and he pulled it up again, tipping the bottle slightly at the parted lips. He didn't have a mouthful in yet, when the coughing started. The curses followed, loud and wet. The eyes blazed and the hand formed into a fist and tried to clip his chin. "Cut that out!" he grabbed the wayward fist and forced more whiskey in the sputtering mouth. "You think I was trying to poison you."

"Haa'" Vin agreed, that is what the awful burning felt like. He didn't hide his anger, but took more. He screwed his face up again, spitting his tongue out and trying to turn away. He heard a chuckle and turned to see Teheno grinning at him. "Hah ... " he scowled, it wasn't funny!

"One more," Chris coached, giving Vin a good gulp. He ducked his head then, chuckling. The blue eyes were blinking and the half smile that formed was followed by a series of hiccups. The hand shot up, tapping the bottle.

"Hibi," Vin slurred, enjoying the warmth that the firey liquid brought.

"No, that's enough!" he smirked, tucking it to the side. He swabbed the leg again and picked the knife from the fire. He blew on it, ignoring the sharp inhalations of fear that the glowing red edge brought to the patient.

"It's okay to be scared ... " Chris started, only to be interrupted. He held that frightened gaze for a few moments, "Trust me?"

He wasn't scared, well maybe a little. But his brother wouldn't hurt him, that he knew. "Haa'" Vin nodded, inhaling the green flow of confidence. He lifted his hand up and gripped Teheno's forearm. "..babi ... "

Chris didn't know what that word meant, but he felt every bit of emotion pouring from Vin's eyes. The hoarse choke that brought the word free took a good grip on hiim. It married the feeling that the hand of brotherhood clamped to his arm represented. It was Vin's way to telling him how he felt. He didn't need to understand the word, he felt it straight to the bone. He smiled, nodded and gripped the Texan's forearm in return. "Yeah ... you bet ... " That seemed to work, a huge exhalation of relief poured from Vin and he relaxed instantely. He picked up a good sized stick and held it to the other man's mouth. "Open up ... you bite down when it hurts ... understand?"

"Haa'" Vin nodded, he'd seen that before. He gripped the stick and his eyes remained on the knife. Then they moved to Teheno's face.

"Aw, hell, Vin, don't look at me," Chris muttered, "Uh, look at the stars, see ... " He pointed with his free hand. "Count them for me, okay?"

"Maiku," Vin agreed, taking a good breath and staring hard at the sky. He tried hard not to cry, he wasn't a boy anymore. The hot metal went through his flesh and muscle and he bit through the stick, his muffled cries causing tears to run from the sides of his eyes. The pain intensified and then exploded. He screamed and spit the stick out, along with a flow of spit and blood.

Chris heard the cry, but blocked it out. He paused briefly, when Vin went slack. He'd cut through the fat and muscle of Vin's upper leg and spotted the lead ball. That moment, when he dug the tip in deeper to pry the bullet free, was when Vin's scream went airborne. Now he was asleep and the rest was easier. He tossed the bullet aside and doused the wound good with whiskey and carbolic. He soaked some gauze strips in carbolic and tucked them inside the wound. He lifted Vin's leg and carefully wrapped a loose bandage. There, it was done. He sat back, totally drained and rested his back against the broad rock. He reached for the whiskey and his hands trembled. Twice he fisted them to stop the tremor. He took a sip and eyed his silent friend. The scarlett slashes he wore on his cheeks now, were from fever, not warpaint. The beads of sweat on his forehead pooled as quickly as were wiped away. He moved his duster over Vin, covering him to the shoulders. Shivering himself, he got closer to the fire, eating some jerky and an apple. The angry arm burn needed tending. He had nothing to swab it with. He'd washed it with whiskey, but he knew it had to hurt like hell. He eyed the cactus nearby and thought on the pulp. It would be cool, anyway, maybe take the sting away. Once he rested a minute, he'd get Vin some. He let his eyes close, drifting awhile and letting his injured body rest.

The blackness parted and he stirred. His leg throbbed, but not as bad as before. His head hurt, he felt sick to his stomach and his arm was on fire. His back felt like fire ants were feasting on him. One word formed, someone to take the pain away. He could't quite get his eyes open and his mouth was dry.

"Te ... he ... no ... " he rasped painfully, lifting his head. His brother was sitting by his side, the warrior's head was down. He reached out and tugged the buckskinned pants leg.

"Vin?" Chris's eyes flew open at the featherlight touch. He blinked several times, wondering how long he'd slept. The fire was low and he moved to stoke it, giving the air a warm, orange glow. He lifted Vin upright, supporting him and looked into the flushed face. "How you feeling?"

" ... baa' ... " he croaked painfully, rubbing his throat and pointing to the canteen. " ... baa' ... "

"Yeah, hold on," Chris got the canteen and uncorked it, "Easy now, I don't want you to throw up. That's it ... good." Finally the thirsty man was sated. He waited until the gasping stopped and eased the body back down.

" ... aisheN ... " Vin sighed in relief, he was very thankful for the gift of water.

"Your welcome," Chris smiled, seeing the relief easily.

Vin looked around the desert, so dark and endless. How were they here? What had happened? Why was he hurt so badly? He turned his eyes to he brother "Hagani ... naakwa ... " he waited and saw the face remain blank. He tugged at the sleeve, "Teheno?"

"Uh ... you got hurt," he answered the confused eyes that continued to roam over the desert. "You just rest now, help is on the way. How are you feeling?"

" ... gizhaa ... " Vin replied, he truly didn't feel well. He shut his eyes and moved to hold his bad arm. He shoved the rough coat off, it was too hot. " ... ede'iN ... " he protested, shaking his wet head.

"I know you're hot," Chris pulled the makeshift blanket back up, "..that's the fever. How 'bout I fix that arm, okay?" He gently lifted the injured left hand and waited.

"Maiku," Vin nodded, it was hurting bad, throbbing and hot. He watched through blurry eyes as Teheno left, taking the knife with him. He tried to stay awake but his heavy eyes dropped. He shook it off, then opened them again. A shrill wind blew by, causing the fire to dim. He was cold and hurt and alone. Alone? Where was his brother? He panicked, eyeing the dark desert. "Teheno?" he whispered, heart pounding, "Teheno!"

"Shit!" Chris jumped at Vin's loud cry and his careful plans to extract two large paddles from the cactus went awry. He had one free and yanked the other, cursing again as the sharp pins lanced his hand. He recovered his steps, watching Vin sit up and try to move. "No!" He hollered ,fearful of the leg. "I was over there, getting some cactus. You okay?" He gripped the back of the wet head and used the opportunity to douse the wounds on Vin's back. He felt the tracker's heart beating wildly and felt the hand latch onto his arm. "I won't leave you again, I'm sorry ... " He said softly, feeling the damp head hit his shoulder. He knew the carbolic had to sting, yet Vin didn't utter a sound. Only the deathgrip on his arm, showed how much pain he was in. He moved the large linen cloth under where Vin's back would rest, and lowered him.

" ... aisheN ... " Vin sighed, finding Teheno's dark eyes hovering.

"You're welcome," Chris understood that, seeing the breathing slow and the fear leave. Then he saw the blue eyes troubled again. "What?" Vin's two hands reached over and opened his palm. The brows over the blues drew together. "I rushed a little, I'll pull them out ... " he noted of the prickly needles.

"Gai'" Vin denied, he'd do it. He held Teheno's wrist with one hand and with his other hand shaking badly, he extracted each one. He pointed to whiskey, recalling how it took the sting away.

Chris complied, handing the bottle over and winced as a tiny amount splashed in his hand. Vin gently rubbed the sore area, before lifting his face. The blue eyes were bright with triumph and he saw a shy smile form. He returned it, swallowed hard and offered his own thanks. "aisheN' ... " he stammered, then saw Vin beam. Before he could blink, the bottle was at Vin's lip and a hearty swallow was gone. "Hey, gimme that! You tricked me!"

"Haa'" Vin chuckled, tapping his head with his finger.

"Don't get cocky, Tanner, you're not that smart." He cut the large cacti open and dug out pulp. Vin sensed what was happening and lifted his arm. He laid the thick juicy fruit pulp over it and wrapped it in strips of the burlap bag. He heard Vin moan in relief and the eyes shut. The short gasps of pleasure were short lived.

The heat in his arm subsided and it relaxed him. He sighed and laid back, but it was harder to breath lying down. He began to panic, twisting to gain some more air. An action that his brother mistook.

"Aw shit," Chris moved to the other side, easing Vin up and over, "Are you gonna throw up?"

" ... hagai ... enne ... ?" Vin hissed in confusion. He didn't understand what Teheno meant.

"Uh ... throw up ... " Chris caught Vin's furrowed face and motioned for the other to watch. He used his fingers in his mouth, then gagged and pretended to throw up. This only made the younger man's face wrinkle more.

" ... hagai ... " Vin frown, then he understood. "Gai'" He shook his head and heaved several times, then pointed to the flat ground. He shook his head and pointed to his nose and inhaled. "Maiku?"

"Oh, you can't breathe lying down," Chris nodded. "You hungry?" He pointed to the fruit nearby and saw the head bob. He walked over to get it and paused, hearing Vin's voice change. He turned back, catching the other man unaware. He smiled broadly and chuckled, watching Vin mimick his actions from a minute ago. Something a kid would do behind an adult's back. The face did an exaggerated scowl, the voice deepened and issued strange words in a deep, rough tone. Then his slim fingers went in his mouth and he gagged. This was followed by the fevered blue eyes crinkling in warmth as laughter escaped. He paused then, listening carefully to the tone. For a brief moment, time was suspended and he got a glimpse of how happy Vin had been as a child. Raised with love in an extended family that held him to their bosom, he'd learned more about life in those short years, then most do in a lifetime. The lightness in the laughter that surrounded the camp attested to that. It gave him a good feeling inside and he kept it, as he strode back. "You think you're funny, huh?" he teased, squatting by the injured man's side. He saw the matted head bob and the smile appear again.

"Teheno ... " Vin's voice was high and full of mirth. He did the imitation again, complete with an angry scowl, deep voice and the finger gag motion. Then he laughed again and pointed at his brother. "Teheno ... "

"Enough, already," Chris chaffed, "Nobody likes a wiseass, here ... " He handed Vin a quarter of the apple and watched him eat it. He repeated the motion several times, until the meager meal was done. He then offered the canteen, hoping that help arrived soon. They only had one full canteen left. This one was nearly empty. Halfway through the drink, he saw Vin's eyes darken and the arm fell.

Vin saw the dark stain on Teheno's shirt and frowned. His hand reached over and tugged at it, only to be pushed away.

"I'm okay, you get some rest now and ... " he stopped again as the irate face appeared and the hand squirmed past his arm, tapping the wound. "I took care of it, see?" He lifted the shirt and let Vin examine the bandage. The eyes remained angry and the hand pointed to the spot near the fire.

"..hapi ... " Vin insisted, Teheno was hurt and needed to rest. " ... hapi ... "

"I'm okay, you need to rest, you got a fever. Get some shuteye. I got your back."

Vin paused, eyeing the fire nearby, which brought warmth. But that which filled him now, was due his older brother. He'd forgiven him for his failure and showered him with tender care. He felt the damp cloth on his face and closed his eyes, letting the cool cloth sate the fire. With heavy eyes, he studied his brother's features. The dark eyes were full of warmth and the steady hands held him safely. He eyed the bandages on Teheno's side again, worried that the enemy would come. As if sensing his fear, the strong voice spoke again.

"He won't hurt you again," Chris vowed, eyeing the darkness. "You got my word." He saw the slim man shivering as his fever rose. "You cold?"

"..ha..ha ... haa' ... " Vin chattered, suddenly unable to get warm.

"I can fix that. I'm getting chilly myself." It was true, and the night air was not the only reason. He had a fever coming on and eased his lean body behind Vin resting his back to the rock. He pulled him up, so Vin's back was against his chest. He pulled the black duster over both of them, letting body heat and the warm fire keep the cold away. He was dozing, one hand wrapped around Vin's chest, when the raspy voice came back.

Vin never felt safer than at this moment. It was more than the strong arm that held him. It was from the warrior's heart he felt beating through his back. His broken faith was restored by his brave brother, who forgave him his sin and restored his heart. He wanted to tell him just how much that meant. He tilted his head sideways and reached his good arm up, clutching the side of Teheno's neck.

" ... babi ... " he choked, letting his eyes shut, confident no one or nothing would harm him.

"Yeah," Chris let out a breath, he didn't know what the word meant, but he would find out. It sure had a powerful effect on Vin. He waited until the fevered man's trembles grew more distant as the chills left him. Then, with Vin resting easy and breathing deeply, he finally succombed to his own throbbing fatigue.

With each passing hour, J.D. became more irritated. What was taking the sheriff's man so long? He eyed the dark horizon and pulled his coat tighter. The desert could be a fickle mistress. Hot and alluring one minute and cold as hell the next. He huddled against the rocks, keeping his gun trained on the arrogant army man. Twice his head bobbed from exhaustion, hitting his chest. He stood and walked a few paces, shaking himself awake. Then a voice broke the cold night air.

"Riders coming in!"

"Hold it, right there, I'm Sheriff Dave Birch identify yourselves!" He ordered into the darkness.

"It's me, Dave!" a voice called back.

"Sherman?" Birch squinted over the glow of the fire they'd built. Two horses came into view. One bearing Harry Sherman, of their posse, the other a military man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

"This here is Major Thomas Kelly. He's from Fullerton, he's looking for Dixon and his partner, a soldier named Garrett. He verified that kid's story."

"Major?" Dave Birch walked over to the tall man, who slid from his horse and approached the bound captive. "Did my man update you?" He stood next to the seething army man.

"Yes, he told me Dunne found Dixon. He's wanted for murder, robbery and a long list of federal violations." Kelly seethed, turning to the smug detainee. "You heartless bastard, how could you?" He raged at the arrogant officer who merely shrugged. "There were innocent people on that train ... children for God's sake!"

"A necessary casualty ... all wars have them." Dixon replied without remorse.

"War? What happened to you? You used to be a fine officer ... " Kelly repelled, the words dripping off his tongue.

"You wouldn't understand, Kelly, that honor of yours won't pay the bills when the army boots you out. I had bigger dreams." Dixon drawled.

"Where's Garrett?" Kelly grabbed the other man and hauled him up, shoving him hard against the rocks.

"Gone. You'll never catch him." Dixon gloated, "He's a lot smarter than you ever were."

"What about Tanner?" the Major queried, gripping Dixon's throat hard.

"What about him?" Dixon choked, his eyes untelling. "Could be he's visiting an old friend ... " He laughed, thinking of what Garrett had done by now.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" Kelly charged, causing three men to pull him off of the now battered prisoner. "Get him out of my sight!"

"Calvin, get him on a horse." He turned to the irate Major, "We'll take him to Fullerton. Who should I see?"

"Reinhardt, General Reinhardt," Major Kelly replied, "or Orrin Travis." He wrote a note to the General, explaining the details of the capture. "Give him this ... Where's the boy?" He handed the note over and eyed the camp.

"Damn hot-headed youngster is squirreled away in them rocks," he muttered, "Come on down, Kid!" Birch bellowed, peering by the cluster of rocks where the valiant, young hero finally emerged. He had to smile then, despite the exhaustion painting the youth's face, there was a tint of smug pride. "You can ride with me anytime, Son!" He extended his hand, "nothing personal."

"S'okay, Sheriff, the important thing is that Dixon won't see the light of day again." Dunne turned to Kelly. "Were you alone? Did you find Vin? How about Garrett?"

"No to all three questions," Kelly spat in the dirt, his stomach churning. "I rode out with Chris Larabee ... "

"Chris is here!" J.D. eyed the road the two men came from. "Where is he?"

"We found Mister Tanner's jacket and gun back a few miles. There were two sets of tracks, I took one that led me this way, where I met the posse member. Chris followed the other trail."

"Why would they split up?" J.D. frowned, walking to where Dixon was sitting on a horse, hands tied securely. He stared hard at the bleeding prisoner and saw something in the eyes he didn't like. "He found you, didn't he?" he noted of the stellar tracker.

"You're too late ... " he whispered, only for the angry boy's ears. He didn't count on the hellion dragging him off the horse and beating him.

"Easy kid! Christ he moves fast!" Birch hauled the small youth off the now semiconscious army man.

"Let me go!" J.D. squirmed, "he knows where Vin is ... Garrett has him ... I'm gonna make him talk."

"He's out!" Calvin hauled the slumped figure upright. "He was goading you kid ... if they knew the law was after them, they probably split up when the came across the border. By going in different directions, they split the defense, gives them better odds."

"You better be right," Dunne hissed, shaking off the marshall's hand. His hot eyes lingered on the prone prisoner, now slung over a horse. "'cause if I don't find Vin alive ... " he left the threat linger, before walking back to his horse. "Major, show me where you and Chris split up." He vaulted onto his horse, jerking the rains with fire in his hazel eyes. "Let's ride!" he gritted, much like his idol.

With grizzled determination that only came when you felt the fetid air left when the angel of death beat her wings above, he moved onward. One bloodied hand over the other, sometimes moving a mere few feet and needing an hour to rest. He didn't know how much blood he'd lost, it mattered not. He'd been hurt, stabbed, shot and much worse in his life, this felt different. Much different. He was dying. The one thing, the only thing, that kept him alive, hauling his battered body up the steep incline was that he wasn't going to hell alone. Vin Tanner was coming with him. With a final grunt of pain and shot forth with a mouthful of blood, he hauled his body over the edge and found solid ground. He collapsed, gulping air and grimacing in pain. His eyes caught the dim glow of a fire in the distance. His hot eyes raked the darkened landscape, then he saw it, lying a few yards away. The gun became his new goal. Once he rested, he'd find Vin Tanner and shove that gun down his throat. With that thought lingering in his mind, Brad Garrett rested, preparing for the final showdown.

Twice enroute to the area when Chris and the army man split up, J.D. had to pause to wait. The Major's horse was limping and he was slowing them down.

"I'm going ahead, to follow's Chris's trail!" He bellowed and saw the other man wave. With that he sped off into the night.

If it was possible to be sicker than he felt at this moment, he didn't know how. He would have shivered for he was that cold, but his body was too weak to elicit such a motion. He was sure there was an ax embedded in his skull and one in his hip as well. Twin fires burned in his arm and chest and he continued to swallow back bile, the nausea was that bad. He couldn't rest, despite his heavy eyes. He didn't want to hurt anymore, he was tired of fighting the pain. How many hours had it been? Maybe it had been days? He knew not. He was tired ... he heard his grandmother and Bazi calling to him. It would be so easy ... to slip away. He ached to feel his grandmother's touch, her kind eyes that awakened him each morn. How she loved him! How her sweet voice sang to him at night. Her wise words that taught him so much and the pride in her eyes at how quickly he learned. Those kind, loving hands bathing his fevers away and brushing the long curls that hung down his back.

" ... hutsi ... " he rasped, seeing her by the fire now, opening her arms to welcome him. Tears filled his eyes. Then, as he fought weakly to join her, to feel safe in that wonderful embrace again, he felt another's arms around him. A strong arm clasped to his waist. A valiant heart beating into his back, the hot breath on his neck. Teheno. His brother cared for him ... needed him..shielded him ... saved him.

" ... gaisheseN ... " he denied, telling her it was 'not yet' time to join her. He closed his eyes then, smiling a bit that his slight movement caused Tehneno's arm to tighten around his waist. Somehow then, the pain that ravished his body seemed to dimish a little. He embraced that feeling and breathed in the strong air his brother exhaled. With every breath drawn, he felt his fight to live return. He would fight hard ... for Teheno. They would help each other; he felt the brave heart beating strongly in time with his own. They would live ... survive and fight together ... in love and honor. For that is what brothers do.

Her lips moved seductively, following a path from his navel, up past his chest, pausing to nibble on a sensitive area, before finding his neck. Her teeth nipped and tickled his tender skin, before they captured his lips, suckling gently. Her ripe body pressed against his, their breaths mingled, hot hands roamed over supple flesh. He grabbed her slim hips and moved to cover her waiting body.

"Nathan, you awake?"

The sultry seductress faded away, her bright eyes teasing him as he found himself alone, almost. He remained rigid in the bed, his aching loins still damp from the dream. Sweat clung to his dark skin, but he made no move to rise. Finally, he managed to turn his eyes east, seeing the unmistakable profile lurking over him.

"Buck worse?" he croaked through clenched teeth.

"No, sleeping like a baby. Fever broke last night, he ate good, drank a lot ... pissed a lot too." Josiah rambled.

"Vin worse?"

"Well, uh ... I don't think so," the preacher stalled.

"Hotel on fire?"

"Nope." He smiled then, recognized what the distinct body language represented.

"Then yuh better haul ass, before I wake up and get my gun." Nate growled, hearing the low chuckle next to him. "Yuh think that's funny!"

"I do, I've been there, Brother and I know that pain," he waited, watching the signs of life returning. Finally, a leg moved, then another, then after a few practiced moves and a groan, the body rose, sitting hunched over the side of the bed.

"Well?" Nate barked, eyeing the large preacher.

"Your horse is at the livery."

"Dammit to Hell, Josiah," he stammered, raking a hand over his weary face, still feeling Raine pressed against him. "Do yuh know what yuh done? Yuh woke me up for that? My horse was at the stable when I got in the bed and I reckon he'd be there after I was done ... uh ... woke up ... " He paused, eyeing the shadows on the face. Then he saw worry in the smokey eyes. "What ain't yuh telling me?"

"Well, Vin rode out on that horse just after dark last night ... "

"What!" He roared, jumping to his feet and ducking as Ezra's arm came up, bearing his derringer.

"Ezra, put that peashooter away, before you hurt somebody," Josiah ordered to the half-asleep gambler. But his direction was ignored and the southerner sat up, moaning as every inch of his injured back protested.

"You ... better ... have ... a ... valid ... reason ... for ... dis ... dis ... turbing ... my slum ... ber ... " Ezra clenched over the pain.

"I'll give yuh some laudanum in a minute, Ezra," Nate barked, standing toe to toe with the preacher. "Tell me I was half asleep and heard yuh wrong." He waited and then curled his face up in anger. "What the hell where yuh thinkin', lettin' him ride off into the desert. He ain't fit to sit a horse. He'll die out there ... condition he's in ... "

"Hold it!" Josiah boomed, "I didn't know he left. I found out later, when Chris left to follow him."

"Our esteemed leader returned?" Ezra gasped, gripping the bedpost as bold devils stabbed his spine with flame-coated pitchforks.

"Briefly," Josiah moved aside, allowing Nathan to get the laudanum and pour a large spoonful. "Here ... "

"Upon reconsideration," Ezra struggled to stand, "My services may be required."

"Yuh ass ain't goin' anywhere," the healer shoved the spoon in the protesting man's mouth. "Next thing Buck'll be tryin' to get out. What happened?" He directed to the preacher, while easing Ezra back onto the bed.

"Seems Vin caught word that Garrett was heading north, to the Rockies. He must have thought it couldn't wait anymore. His thirst for justice overcame his reasoning. J.D. took out after him."

"Wonderful, that does alot to bolster my sagging spirits ... " the gambler yawned, as the sleep aid began to take effect.

"Chris rode in, talked to Buck, got a map Vin left and took Major Kelly with him."

"Why didn't yuh tell anybody!" Nate angered, "Yuh knew how sick Vin was ... he'd never last alone in that condition in the desert, I don't care how good a tracker he is ... "

"I gave Chris my word, he's afraid some of them trigger happy recruits would spot Vin and shoot first." The solemn reply came.

"Well," Nate pulled the blanket over Ezra, who was sleeping again. He eyed the sky and saw the inky blackness turning navy blue. "It'll be light in a couple hours, I want to check on Buck and change his bandages, get some food in him. Maybe by the time we get the wagon ready, we'll get word."

"Wagon?" Josiah said, handing Nathan his gun belt and hat.

"Wagon, fully loaded," the healer stopped in the dimly lit hallway, his dark eyes grave. "I only hope we get there in time to save Vin."

Something caused the fevered blue eyes to open. The sky was not black anymore as Dawn slowly began to dress. Her blue cloak was still on, with the hint of the rosy, golden gown underneath. He froze, relaxing slightly when he felt Tehano's breath on his neck. Then he turned painfully as a figure approached. His breath came in pants, sweat poured down his face, he felt the terror rise in his chest, banging against every broken bone in his ribcage, before it jumped his heart. His jaw quivered, he tried to move his hand, his leg, anything, to rouse his brother, but he was too weak and couldn't move an inch. The figure came closer, the blurriness disappeared and he saw a gun in the stranger's hand. A white man ... a gun ... his fevered mind screamed one word and he repeated it, thrusting it through his parched lips.

"Daiboo!" He screamed, of the white man. "Teheno ... Daiboo ... " He screams died in his throat when the stranger quickened his steps, dropping over him. Vin eyes went wide with rage and fire as they lingered on the gun.

Part Eight

Through fevered eyes which filled his world with stilted, garish imagery, he watched the scene unfolding as if in slow motion. Dawn blushed at the rude intrusion and shifted her gown, letting more light peek out. The fire was dying, but the red coals gave the stranger a devilish glow. Vin swallowed hard, his voice stilled from weakness and thirst. Why hadn't Teheno replied? Was his brother ill? He eyed the trembling gun in the white man's hand and moved his own arm under the garment which covered him. He felt the rippling muscles of his brother's forearm gripping his waist. Panting for every nimble breath that fled on hot feet, he made a vow. He'd protect his older brother.

Something heavy was covering him. Thick folds of hot, oozing sludge covered his lean frame. He groaned and fought through the wall of mud encasing his aching body. It was deep and black, choking him, it's weight bearing too hard on his chest. He couldn't breathe ... couldn't think ... couldn't see. He moaned and fought on, past the pain that roared in his side. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't open either eye and gave into the pain. Then he heard a voice from far away. It rained down from a place above him, the voice was broken and full of pain. Someone was hurt. The jagged cry came again, louder and roused him. He heard the fear laced through the words and fought back. Then the call came again, louder still and hit his chest. He knew the bearer of that cry of desperation. The words that tumbled forth were a part of him.

"Vin!" Chris choked, jerking his eyes open. He saw, or rather tasted, a mouthful of tangled brown hair. He felt the jangled limbs he held in place, jerkly wildly. "What's ... wr ... ong ... " he managed, clicking his thick tongue around his all too small mouth.

"Daiboo!" Vin screamed, eyeing the startled stranger. Why didn't Teheno attack? What was wrong? Was he too injured? There was no time to waste, he would protect his older brother. He stared at the man and made his plea known.

"Vin!"

That startled choking voice caused the damp blond head to rise. He blinked several times, trying to focus on the face that rose above his own. Then he saw the gun and his arm shot out, fumbling against Vin's thrashing body and the coat that covered them. Dark hair, stubble covering the youthful face and large, almost luminous hazel eyes floated above through the fog.

"J.D.?" He croaked painfully as Vin's elbow connected with his ribcage. "Cut that out, Vin, he won't hurt you. It's okay, it's ... " He winced painfully as his words were cut off by a long and volatile stream of jangled words in a strange dialect. Sighing, he moved sideways, hoping to contain the fevered, irate body that fought with alarming reserve.

"What's wrong with him?" J.D. stammered, shocked by the violent reaction and lethal eyes trained on him. Vin's lips curled up, baring feral teeth as more angry strange words shot forth. Then his hand shot up.

"Get rid of the gun!" Chris screamed, barely containing Vin. He moved his body again, crying out as his side exploded and a pain shot through his shoulder. Despite his best efforts, Vin got a hand on the barrel of the gun. "Now J.D. He doesn't know you ... he's lost in the past. Get out of here until ... I ... calm ... ." He had no more air left and used what little strength was left to hold Vin against him. From his peripheral vision, he saw J.D. holster his gun and make an attempt to help them. That was a mistake. Vin reacted even more violently, when the youth attempted to move him. The nimble tracker's hand shot out and grabbed the sheriff's gun. Chris snagged the arm in time, displacing it. "Goddammit J.D. do as i tell you!" He jerked his head towards the cluster of red rocks behind them. "Now!"

Vin felt the earth kiss his face and grunted. "Teheno ... hagani' yunde?" Why was he doing this? The enemy was getting away! "Gai ... Gai.." he fought weakly, choking on the dust and sand he was inhaling. As Teheno's voice fell into his ear, he felt the strong arms return, holding him. The initial rush of andrenalin wore off and he was utterly spent. He wanted to question his brother more, but he had nothing left. With a small cry of protest, his eyes fluttered shut.

"Easy, Vin, you're okay." Chris used a calm voice, feeling Vin's heart hammering in record time against his chest. He felt the body go limp and then gently rolled him over. "It's okay ... " he called out, sitting back hard and closing his eyes.

J.D. peered from the rock, only when he saw Vin was unconscious again, did he move. He walked slowly to where the pair lie in a heap, limbs splayed haphazardly. He eyed Chris first, taking in the large, dark stain on his side. "Did you get shot?"

"Yeah," Chris rasped, "Gimme a hand." He moved his aching body over, fumbling for the canteen. On hand brushed over the flame colored face of his best friend. "He's burning up ... are you alone?"

"No ... yeah ... not really." the youth replied, lifting Vin upright, so Chris could get his leg free. It was then he saw the sharpshooter's back. "Did Garrett do that?" His voice rose in rage. "Hey, where is he?"

"Rotting in Hell, I hope," Larabee replied, nearly overcome by dizziness. "Define not really?" He inquired of the youth's reply.

"Well ... I caught Dixon, but the posse got in my way and I had to hold them off 'cause they were gonna let him go but then the Major came and boy was he mad he gave Birch the okay to take him to town and then ... ."

"Stop!" Chris put up both hands to end the painful, loud burst of rambling Dunne that was hitting his tender skull like bullets. He didn't care about most of the jumble of words, except one thing. "Where's Kelly?"

"He's trailing behind me, horse is acting up. He'll be here soon. Where's Garrett? Did he shoot you? How bad is Vin hurt? Where's your horse?"

"Slow ... er ... " Chris dictated, wincing at the frantic pace of the easterner's words.

"Sorry," J.D. knelt behind Vin, lifting him up so Chris could get some water into him.

"Horses ran off. Don't know where that bastard is ... he got Vin good. He's lucky if he's already dead." Chris managed, watching two blue slits appear. "I got something for you to drink, okay?"

"Haa ... " Vin agreed, relieved to see Teheno alive and well. " ... hagani naakwa?" He asked, not understanding what had happened.

"You got hurt, remember?" the blond answered, frowning as he saw the inflamed area by the scalp wound.

"Haa ... " Vin nodded, he saw the pain etched in his brother's face and the fresh blood stains appearing on his shoulder and side. " ... hapi ... "

"I'm okay," he smiled, feeling the Texan's fingers tugging on his shirt. "You want a drink?"

" ... hibi ... " Vin replied, eyes shifting weakly to the bottle.

"No, water," Chris brought the canteen upwards nudging Vin's slack lips, as the eyes slid shut. "Vin? Open up, I got water."

"baa?" the whisper returned, eyebrows furrowing over closed lids.

"Yeah, come on," He gently nudged again, but the frown returned.

"Gai ... Gai ... " the delirious body protested. He didn't want water, he wanted the fire in the bottle to take the pain away. ' ... hibi ... "

"Don't give me any shit, Vin, drink the fuckin' water!" he growled and the mouth worked, suckling the edge of the canteen. Finally, the lips fell away and the leader sat back satisfied.

"I didn't know you spoke ... well ... whatever that was," J.D. amazed, easing Vin down onto Chris's coat.

"I don't," Chris answered wearily, sitting next Tanner, resting against a rock. His face was soaking wet and he made no attempt to stop the flow of moisture.

"But ... how did you know what he said ... you answered him ... he heard you ... " the youth perplexed, amazed at what he saw.

"I listened," Chris shrugged, peeling an eye open and fixing his stare on the injured man's troubled face. "I guess between his head wound and Garrett beating him ... " he sighed, "when I found last night, he was like this ... right after his sister was killed. I'm guessing he's about thirteen or so ... "

"All night?" J.D. amazed, "I don't know how you did it ... Did he get shot too? His pants are wet ... "

"Shit!" Chris sat foward painfully, grabbing J.D.'s arm which shot out when he spun. The earth was tilting and whirling. "He's bleeding again ... "

"I'll do it," the youth shoved Chris back.

"He took it high in thigh, near the hip. I took the bullet out. You'll have to repack it ... tear up some bandages and soak them in Carbolic. Pack the wound and rewrap it until Nate can fix it. Garrett burned him ... arm ... hack off some cactus pulp, it seemed to help."

"Okay," J.D. spent fifteen minutes tending to Vin's hip and arm, before dabbing medicine on the head wound. "Geez this is hot ... " he noted of the inflamed skin around the angry head wound.

" ... infected ... " Chris grunted, hissing as it felt like an invisible jaw locked onto his shoulder. "I need your bedroll, water and any supplies you have. Then you haul ass back to town and get a wagon and Nathan. He'll never survive out here when the heat of the day comes."

"Okay," J.D. returned in few minutes, unrolled his bedroll near the fire. He dropped a canteen and his saddlebags next to Vin. Chris was sitting beside the fallen buffalo hunter, his eyes were closed. One hand was covering the wound on his side and his own fever was evident. He got some coffee started, rummaged in the bag and took out carbolic, bandages and willow bark tea. Finally, he took out a sandwich wrapped in cloth. "Chris, what happened to your shoulder?"

"Stabbed," he groaned, shirking the shirt off as J.D. unbuttoned it. When the fabric resisted angrily at the top of his shoulder, he cried out. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Sorry, it's stuck," J.D. frowned, "hold on ... " He used a little whiskey in a cup and warmed it, then loosened the fabric and got the shirt off. The wound wasn't deep, but oozing yellowly liquid. He dabbed it with carbolic and wrapped it, before cleaning and retaping Chris's side. Then he put the tattered shirt back. "Here," He shoved the sandwich into Chris's one hand and filled the mug with coffee. "You eat, I'm gonna scout around. Where did you last see Garrett?"

"Back by the drop ... be careful!" Chris called out, blinking at the blurry sandwich in his hand. It took all of his strength to lift the bread to his lips. He fumbled and stumbled, but got the sandwich down, and the coffee as well.

Voices alerted the semi-conscioius man to a body approaching. A young, healthy body with a gun. He heard snatches of the conversation and knew whoever it was, they'd be leaving soon. He pressed himself lower into the rocks, holding his breath as the boots crunched on the gravel nearby. Finally, they retreated and he was alone again. He knew the blood loss would be taking over soon and he'd be unable to move. He sat up, took slow, careful breaths and waited, hoping his numb fingers could pick the gun up again.

"Soon, you bastard," Garrett whispered, blood and sweat running a race down his face.

"You gonna be okay?" J.D. asked, handing Chris a mug of willow bark tea. "You look as bad as Vin?"

"I think you hit your head," Larabee tossed back, "Something's wrong with your eyes. In a coma, I could look better than ... that ... Texan r ... r ... at ... " he coughed, shivered and pulled the duster up. "Well?" he squinted up at the dark-haired youth, his body blocked by the cresting sun.

"I didn't find him ... just dried blood by a steep drop off. He must have gone over."

"Pity."

J.D. smiled not at the word, but the emphasis behind it. He knew how deeply Chris cared for the tracker and the edge on the word uttered supported that. He drew a mental image of Chris tearing Garrett from limb to limb and then settling into his chair at the saloon, sipping a whiskey. Vin would drop in the chair by his side, neither would speak. But their body language spoke volumes.

"Ride," Chris uttered, hand resting on the knife the youth recovered. " ... fast!"

" ... like the wind ... " the youth tallied, "But how 'bout we get some willow tea in Vin first? I'll hold him up?"

" ... breathes better up ... busted ribs ... " Chris groaned, his moves slow and sluggish.

"Before I go, I'll prop him against those low rocks, cover him up ... " J.D. noted, sliding behind Vin and lifting him. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Chris took a deep breath, blinked at the blurry Tanner body and tapped the wet cheek. 'Vin, wake up, I got some special tea ... it'll help you feel better." Without protest, the head moved, the mouth opened and the leader got a good full dose into him. Then the face screwed up and the nose wrinkled.

" ... natesu'uN ... " Vin spat his tongue out.

"Yeah, it's medicine," Chris agreed, "Come on, drink up ... " Five minutes later, the cup was empty and J.D. left Vin propped against a bank of rocks. The black duster covered him and Chris sat next to him.

"I won't be long," he promised, "I'm sure the Major will be here soon," he noted, taking a leg up and turning the horse. He saw Chris nod and nudged the steed, knowing it would be the most important ride he ever took. Little did he know, he was being watched. The wounded hunter waited until the boy was long gone, before taking the gun and beginning his trip.

Vin sighed and blinked, feeling like a loaf of bread baking in his grandmother's kiva. He was so thirsty and he hurt all over, especially his head. Where was Teheno? He saw a pair of dark pants and followed the leg upwards. Then the vision got stranger. He shook his head and closed his eyes, hoping when he reopened them, he'd see his brother.

" ... gai ... gai ... " he denied, blinking as his brother's fine profile disappeared into a cap of short blond hair. "Te ... he..no ... " he whispered, reaching a wavering hand out and touching the strange yellow hair.

"Vin?" Chris jumped at the slight touch of fingers to his head. He saw the confusion on Vin's face and his heart sank. Coupled with the fingers laced in his hair, he had a sinking feeling of what he muddled eyes were saying. "It's okay, Vin, I ... "

" ... ohapite ... " Vin rasped of the yellow color. Then Teheno's face turned towards him, the pride remained locked into the other's eyes, but they were no longer dark.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked, watching Vin's eyes widen and the hand retract in fear.

" ... buhibite ... " his voice wavered of the green eyes that now bore down on him. He touched his own eyes and pointed to the strange light ones. " ... buhibite ... " His confused fear evolved into full fleged panic, when Teheno's face disappeared entirely. In his place, was a white man, but he was not afraid of him. Something in that strong, deep gaze calmed him. But where did Tehano go? He lifted his wet head and peeked into the desert beyond the stranger. "Teheno?" he called out hopefully, desparately needing to see him.

"Shit!" Chris muttered, reaching over when Vin tilted sideways and nearly fell. The younger man struggled weakly, crying out for his brother. Every whispered syllable broke a bit of the leader's heart. Finally, the body went limp and he eased him back. Then the pressure in his bladder forced him to his feet. He walked away, eyeing a group of rocks nearby and set about to relieve himself.

Through fitful dreams he shifted, the sun trying to pry inside his tender skull. Then the strong, hot light was blocked. He blinked, opened his eyes and raised them hopefully. Was his brother back? "Teheno?" His voice rose in anticipation and his heart picked up. He raised a hand, seeking to touch his brother, only to the carefully ministered bandages on his burn ripped off. A vise like claw ripped into his torched skin. The pain was so terrific, it rendered him speechless. His mouth gaped open, locked in agony, as tears ran from his eyes and his body stiffened. He saw the features then, clearly. Brad Garrett was kneeling over him. The pain and shock fought a battle with fear and need, merging into a powerful urge. One word formed on his tortured brain. He had only a brief second to make the call, before a gun barrel was shoved in his gaping mouth.

"Chrs!"

"Vin!" the injured gunslinger froze, buttoning his fly. It wasn't a scared young boy calling out, it was his friend. Vin wouldn't panic like that, not even this ill, unless he was in mortal danger. He stumbled and staggered, cresting the rocks and his eyes shot up in terror. Vin was slumped against the rocks, Garrett was straddling him, trying to hold a gun in his mouth. It happened at the same time, he sucked his gut in, took a deep breath and used all his waning strength to aim his body at the intruder. Just as he arrived, the gun slipped. They struggled, each weaked by bullet wounds, blood loss and lack of food and water. Grunting and groveling, they each battled for control of the gun. Garrett finally got it, slamming him on the side of the face. He tasted blood, where his teeth came through his lip. Through the shimmering crimson haze of pain his world had become, Chris Larabee watched, paralyzed as the gun once again moved toward's Vin's slack lips. With his last ounce of strength, Chris put his body between them, ready to take the bullet. But he missed and ended up against Vin's chest, under his chin. His whole body jumped as the shot rang out and he felt moisture, red and sticky, falling fast on his cheek from above. He clenched his eyes closed, mortally wounded by his own failure to save his best friend's life. The young boy who so trusted 'Teheno' to guard him was gone forever.

Dawn barely revealed her new dress, when the judge entered the room. He carried the full tray over to the long table against the wall and set it down. He turned his attention to the two figures by the bed, a physician and his patient. He frowned at the harsh sound of the infirmed man's breathing. He caught the doctor's eye, as he helped his sit up.

"How is he?"

"Weak ... tired ... and full of congestion." Doctor Smith replied, turning to the groggy womanizer. "Buck, you need a croup tent. I'll get the water boiling and the herbs I need, you eat your breakfast."

"Okay, thanks Doc," Buck wheezed, coughing a wad of sputnum into a cloth and dropping it into a can next to the bed. "You headin' to the kitchen?"

"I am," The doctor replied, eyeing the can.

"Can you toss them in the fireplace? Nate don't like it when they hang around, he' burns 'em up right off."

"I will," he picked up the can and eyed the tray. "Can you manage?"

"I'll help him," Orrin Travis said, before turning his attention to the injured man. "How are you, Buck?"

"I'm breathin'," he coughed, thinking of the dead on the train. "Any word?"

"Not yet, Nathan and Josiah left a short time ago." He moved closer, bringing the footed tray with him. He set in over Buck's lap and lifted the lid. A bowl of rich chicken noodle soup, a pot of tea, a basket of bread and a jug of cider awaited. "While it's hot ... "he encourged, watching Buck lift the spoon. The soup was half done, and two rolls gone, when the dark head came up for air.

"Sorry," the mustached man apologized, "I guess I didn't realize how hungry I was. Sit down."

"I'm not staying long, I have a breakfast meeting with the President and his group. They'll be over to talk with you about the incident on the train. Are you up to that?"

"Yeah," Buck took a long swig of cider and wiped his mouth. He leaned back on the pillows, exhausted from the consuming of the meal. He flinched and rubbed the area above his immobilized leg. It throbbed like the devil and his head hurt. "Damn I hate this ... " his lingering eyes went to the horizon. He would give anything to be out there, looking for Vin and Chris.

"I know," he patted the rogue's good leg. "You wear you heart on your sleeve, Buck. We caught Colonel Dixon."

"When?" Buck wheezed, dipping a biscuit into his soup. "What about Garrett?"

"A short time ago, a posse brought him in. They were trailing a gang of bank robbers, when they encountered Dixon and J.D."

"J.D.!" Buck choked on his roll and ended up in a coughing fit. He lost the roll and more congestion, taking the cold cider Orrin offered. "Thanks ... " he gasped, wiping his mouth.

"He's fine." He answered the worried eyes. "As a matter of fact, Sheriff Birch, who headed the posse, was quite impressed. It seems out youthful lawman kept them at bay for quite some time. The Colonel was trying to sweet talk his way free, but J.D. held them all off. Birch sent a man this way, to confirm J.D.'s story and met Major Kelly. The posse brought Dixon in and Kelly went with J.D. to find Chris and Vin."

"Garrett?" Buck wheezed, frowning at the look on Orrin's face.

"From the letter Kelly sent in with Birch, it would appear he met up with Vin last night sometime."

"Goddammit!" Buck shoved the tray away, nearly tipping it over. "I should have done ... something ... made him ... stay ... "

"An exercise in futility, Buck," The Judge advised of the unwarrented guilt washing over the rogue's pale face. "You're not to blame. Put that anger to use and fight that infection. Drink that tea and get some rest. I'll be back later."

It was raining. The drops of moisture splashed on his hot face. A few trickled onto his parched lips and he licked them, seeking relief. His throat was on fire, his chest burned and his head was split in half. He frowned then, licking the metallic taste that wasn't rain. He peeled an eye open and saw a dazed face peering down at him, inches from his own. Blood ran freely, covering one side, running past the fine cheekbone, down the curve of jaw and onto his own face. Too weak to move, he managed to pry his dry lips open and protest.

"Get ... the hell ... away ... Lar ... a ... bee ... " he rasped, struggling for each breath. He batted the other's chest weakly, trying to move him. "Yer bleedin' the hell all over me."

"Vin?"

"Who was ya expectin'?" Vin blinked, trying to focus on the very blurry image. His head hurt so bad, it was hard to keep his eyes open. He couldn't remember much ... just pain ... lots of pain. He saw Chris shudder and eyed the blood with a worried glance. "Sit down 'afore ya keel over on me. Hell, I ain't got but a few parts workin'. Jes' my luck, ye'll bust somethin'. What happened? Where the hell are we? My brain's is fryin' faster the gizzards on a griddle."

Chris didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He studied the angry Texan's features and gripped the back of his neck, giving it a tug. He felt the heat of Vin's fever rising, but also the blood coursing through his veins. Then his shoulder's sagged bit and he looked away. While he welcomed the return of his best friend and drank in every crusty syllable uttered, a part of him missed the young boy he'd been given the priviledge to see. For a few hours, the mists of time parted and he was able to become a vital part of the young teenager Tanner's life.

" ... s'wrong ... " Vin whispered, not liking the strange, quiet melancholic face above him. With a brief bit of wavering strength, he lifted his mangled, burned arm, despite the pain. He tapped the bloodied cheek. "Chris, ya okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed, watching the animated boy Tanner who mimicked him just a few hours, full of mischief and mirth, disappear under the departing Eve's coat. He gripped the bloody paw, just at Vin's eyes shot wide open and a sharp gasp fell through his cracked lips.

"Oh God ... he's ... " Vin blinked as the memory came slamming back hard, bouncing off every tender fiber in his body. The gun in his mouth ... the glazed eyes over his face, the lips curling in a sneer. He was too weak to fight and thought he was ticketed for a pine box, until a blond tornado twisted the hand of Fate. "Ya saved m'life ... " he choked out, then scowled, "What the hell did ya do that fer? Christ, he couldda blowed yer fuckin' head off. Goddamn, interfer ... fer..in ... " He ran out of air then and panicked, not able to draw a breath. His vision wavered and he felt his body moved upright. Words pressed into his ear, urgent and calm, ordering him to relax and breathe. He slumped forward, grateful when sweet air finally found home.

When Vin sagged against him, Chris wiped the blood from the gash on his head. His own fever made his thought process slower and weighed down his lightning fast reactions. He hadn't shot Garrett and Garrett hadn't shot either of them. Keeping a protective arm on Vin, whose head was pressed to his sore shoulder, he winced and turned. Then he saw a sight that did make him flinch. It went past the physical pain and much deeper. "I'm sorry," he offered, meeting the eyes of the man who saved both of them. Sad eyes ... haunted eyes ... filled with a grief so deep it wasn't fathomable. Given the situation, he didn't think he could have pulled the trigger. He eyed the man with a mixture of admiration and sorrow. He felt Vin stirring against him and saw a brief glimmer of anger in the sky eyes. It was the uniform of course. He cupped the tracker's jaw and forced him to look. "Look!"

"I seen him already. Don't need t'see more ... he's dead." Vin tried to pull away, but Chris wouldn't budge.

"Not at Garrett ... " he clenched, " ... look closer ... look at his face, Vin. What do you see?"

"He's takin' it awful hard ... " Vin pondered, watching Major Thomas Kelly cradling Garrett's body. The army man's hand wavered a moment, before closing the dead man's eyes. Vin saw the gaping hole in Garrett's throat. A perfect shot that saved both of their lives. "Helluva shot ... "

"I couldn't have taken it ... I don't know many men who could." Chris paused, forcing Vin to look again. "It's his son ... "

"What!" Vin gasped, the shock waves slamming into him hard. Then he saw the army major lift the lifeless body forward, kissing the forehead as tears ran down his face.

"I only found out before we left town to hunt you. Bradford Garrett Kelly. The Major has been chasing him for years. It's not easy being an officer assigned out here. Your family has to move around alot. Mrs. Kelly and the boy were on a stage on their way to South Dakota to the new Fort he was assigned to. Garrett was about fourteen. The stage got lost in a storm and crossed into Apache territory. It was brutal ... they were slaughtered. He was the only survivor. He never forgave the Major. He ran off the day after his mother's funeral. The Major's been tracking him since then, he nearly caught him after the incident at your village. But Garrett hooked up with Dixon's outfit and moved to Mexico, raiding border towns." He paused, wiped the blood running down his face and warded off the dizziness fastly falling. He gripped Vin's chin hard, sealing in the gaze. "So you take a good look Vin, sometimes, them boots and buttons are polished for a reason! You understand?

Vin did look, long and hard, through his own pain. He saw the man, not the uniform and realized how wrong he'd been. He felt the gravity hit him, that this man had sacrificed his only son to save them. What kind of courage did that take? Could he have made that choice with such accuracy and timing? It was then that Major Thomas Bradford Kelly gently lowered his first and only child to the ground. He rose on unsteady legs and walked towards them. Vin held his gaze then, blue on blue. He thought for a moment, then lifted his bloody hand, saluting the officer. He blinked for a few seconds as the other men knelt down. His jaw worked, trying to speak ... to say thank you ... but nothing came. He saw the salute returned and felt a hand on his bare shoulder.

"I'm so very sorry, Mister Tanner. I hope one day you can forgive me for what my son did to your family. "

He started to speak, but the black spots appeared. They marred his picture and soon he couldn't see the Major anymore. He didn't realize his eyes were closed again. From far away, he heard Chris's voice and felt the leader's heart beating through the fabric pressed to his cheek. He relaxed then, he was safe.

"How is he?" Major Kelly asked, as the wounded blond man gently lowered his friend to the ground. Chris Larabee doused a cloth and began wiping his friend's fevered face and neck.

"He's alive ... we both are, thanks to you." Chris paused long enough to extend his bloody hand. "I'm grateful, so is Vin. He's got a lot of healing to do, inside and out. This whole episode brought back a lot of bad memories for him."

"To say the least, " The Major agreed, looking at his own son, then the unconscious peacekeeper. "I wonder, Chris, where I went wrong? This boy lost so much in his life, through death and war, yet he was able to harness the bitterness and become a man anyone would be proud to call son, I know I would." He touched Vin's cheek then, "Why couldn't Brad have ... been ... " he took a shuddering breath, suddenly unable to focus. "I'm so ashamed ... "

"You got no call to hang your head, Major." Chris dictated.

"He wasn't always that way, he was a beautiful child, so like his mother. Full of laughter ... until my job required us to leave Washington when he was ten. I had to leave them frequentely out here and he learned to despise me and the uniform. He began to misbehave, rebel and get into fights. He learned to hate this uniform and me for wearing it. Margaret's tragic death was the last straw. I should have seen something ... a sign ... earlier ... maybe ... sent him back East to school. I don't know ... "

"It's twenty years past, Sir, don't revisit it." Chris sat down, swaying severely as the whole area spun past.

"My God," Kelly choked, clenching his painful eyes shut, "What have I done?"

Chris left the wet cloth on Vin's neck and turned then, gripping the downcast blue shoulder hard. "You didn't kill him, Major, he died a long time ago. This wasn't anybody's fault."

"He ... didn't ... wasn't dead when I got to him. I had a few moments. He touched my face." Kelly faltered, grasping at emotions, "Maybe it was just a father's hope, but in those last few moments, the monster was gone and I held my son again. The same baby I cradled and the loving boy whose eyes shined at me."

"Yeah," Chris managed, "He's at peace now ... with his mother."

"I hope so," Kelly gently forced the younger man to sit down. He took his bandanna off and tied it around the bleeding cut on the blond's head. "You rest, I'll see to your friend."

"J.D. went for a wagon ... " Chris added, resting his eyes. It seemed like just a few moments passed, when he felt a hand on his throat. His own hand snapped to his waist, automatically searching for a gun. But a strong hand stopped him and the deep voice that followed, caused his eyes to pop open. He saw a blue sling first and followed it upwards.

"Josiah," he croaked, his throat drier than burned leaves. "Water ... "

"Hold on," the preacher picked up a canteen and helped the weak man drink. Above the canvas clad water vessel, he saw the green eyes roaming the landscape. "He's over there, Nate's seein' to him."

"Nate?" Chris coughed, finally coming up for air. His filthy shirt was gone and he was clean and freshly bandaged. "Thank God ... bastard damn near killed him." His fumbling fingers found new bandages on his side and head. He tried to raise his left arm, but found it was difficult.

"Nuh-uh," Sanchez eased the arm back down. "New stitches on your side, shoulder and that hard head. Nate don't like his work busted up."

Chris paused a moment, his eyes lingering on the large hand that supported him. He moved north, seeing the caring, smokey blue eyes of their eldest. "Ugliest fuckin' babysitter I ever saw." He grunted, feeling the deep laughter settle in around him.

"I was gonna give you some grub," Josiah shot back, arching an eyebrow, "but I think my feelings are hurt."

"You delicate flowers are all alike," the blond coughed, winced and flinched, resting his arm across his waist. " ... feel like shit ... "

"I can't imagine why, Boss," Josiah turned as someone approached. "Get a plate of food and a mug of that herbal tea for Chris, J.D."

"I just got done unpacking the wagon and fixing beds in the back for them. I unpacked the food, cooked it, ran back and forth getting Nate supplies and stuff ... I've been riding all night. I'm tired. Get it yourself, I'm taking a break." He defied, ready to flop down, until an arm shot out, grabbing his bicep.

"Excuse me?" the graying man directed, "I know you're not talking to me in that tone of voice."

"Aw, hell Josiah, I ... " His hazel eyes widened when he heard a snort and saw his mentor smiling at him. "Hey, Chris, you're awake! How you feeling? Nate sure was mad at Vin ... I never heard him cuss so much. Good thing Vin wasn't awake or maybe not ... I bet it would have been quite a battle. Nobody cusses like Vin does. Major Kelly told us what happened. As soon as Nate gets done with Vin, we're heading back to town." He stopped for air, when the other two began to laugh and Josiah's hand ruffled his dark hair. "Cut that out! What's so funny?" He demanded, watching Chris Larabee's wide grin.

"You are, Kid." Larabee offered warmly with his hand. "You done good, John Daniel and I'm proud of you. You made the right choice," he referred to the earlier conversation that they had in the camp the week prior.

"Yeah, I guess I did. You were right, Chris, I did feel it inside, it wasn't as hard as I thought." He sighed, "I guess I'm back to 'fetch and tote' duty." He wiped the sweat from his face and turned to leave. "Sometimes it sucks being the youngest." He grinned as they laughed again and Josiah swatted his backside.

"You're very good," Major Kelly noted, watching the tall, dark-skinned man working. Like the others on the investigtive team, he'd heard dozens of accounts about this man's work. Survivor's all noted the skill to which those hands worked in the wake of the tragic crash. Now they were tending to someone he cared for. He saw the emotion cresting in the dark brown eyes.

"I'm no doctor, but thanks," Nate offered, finally getting the last of the soiled clothing from Vin. He pulled a thin blanket over the unconscious man and eyed the kettle nearby. J.D. got a fire going and water was simmering inside. He ladeled some of it out, into a deep bowl, filled with slivers of soap. Soon suds formed and he gently washed the grime, filth and dried blood from Vin Tanner's very abused body. The slim man never stirred. That done, he set about fixing the broken form. The marks on the back angered him, rousing memories he thought long dead. He pushed the thoughts aside and washed them again with carbolic. The ribs would be next. Trained fingers slowly worked the bones up and down, feeling new breaks. "Shit ... " he sighed, "Can yuh hold him up for me? I need to retape 'em."

"Certainly," Kelly complied, supporting the injured man.

"Thanks," Nate nodded, upon completion. "Yuh can lower him back down."

"Yuh sure is one helluva mess, Vin Tanner," he said quietly catching the tracker's chin and eyeing the swollen, discoloration that marred the fine features he usually saw. He felt the slumbering man's cheek, neck and forehead. "He's burnin' up ... " He turned his attention next to the inflammed area around the hellish head wound. It was raised, flaming red, hot to the touch and crusted yellow. "It's infected ... I'm gonna open it ... " He snipped the old stitches and pressed a hot, soapy cloth along the wound. Then he pressed again, with clean hot water, a move that caused a cry of pain and two blue slits to appear. The blinked up at him, totally unfocused. The pale lips parted, a tongue snaked out and the body shivered and coughed. "Major, get him up. I want to get some of this willow bark and ginger tea in him, while he's roused." He lifted the cup and nudged Vin's open lips. "Drink up, go on now ... " The eyes blinked again, the head tilted, trying to place the voice and the brows furrowed. "It's Nathan, Vin, Yuh drink up now!" He said harshly, a trick that usually worked.

From the deep abyss he was lost in, fighting waves of pain and fire, a voice broke through. A voice he knew, he relaxed at the hands probing him then, he knew who cared so much.

" ... mad ... fer ... " he squeaked in a weak, angry protest.

"'cause yuh should be back in town, not runnin' around out in the desert gettin' yuh scrawny ass shot to pieces." The eyes opened again and a hand flopped against his leg, batting it weakly. Nate put the mug down and grabbed the hand.

" ... sorry ... " Vin offered, trying to find Nathan's face. " ... ya there ... can't see ... ya ... Nate?"

"Where else would I be?" Nate soothed, using his free hand to move to Vin's cheek. "Yuh still my best customer. I ain't gonna leave yuh, Vin."

" ... ain't feelin' s'good ... "

"That's cause yuh'r sick ... fevered up good. Here, I got somethin' for yuh ... "

" ... piss ... cat ... " Vin rasped, eyeing a blurry mug near his mouth.

"Yup, open up!" Sure enough, the body relaxed and the jaw worked, draining the cup as well as a full mug of water. "Okay, Major, he's out again."

"Aren't you going to restitch that wound?" the officer watched the dark man move from Tanner's head to his burned arm.

"No, it's still oozin' crud. I'm gonna leave it open for awhile. His arm's infected too ... " He gently dabbed at the harsh red skin, covered with nasty blisters. He rummaged around the box of supplies at his hip, and drew out a new bottle of salve. The army sent new supplies the day before from San Diego. Not knowing what to expect, he packed as many as he could. He took the cap off and poured some lavender and linseed oil onto the raw, hot skin. He then slathered on tinture of St. John's wort and covered the hand, wrist and arm with a gauze bandage. Finally, he tipped Vin sideways, nodding for the major to hold him in place. He took from the wound in Vin's outer upper leg, the carbolic soaked lint. He repacked it, before bandaging it; he wanted Dr. Smith to do the work inside. "It'll keep until the surgeon can fix it ... " He eased Vin back down on the mat and pulled the blanket up, before again, lifting a cloth doused with rubbing alchohol and water. He soaked Vin's face, neck and chest with the fever reducer, pausing to eye Chris Larabee across the camp. Josiah was sitting next to the injured gunslinger, who now held an empty plate. He saw Chris watching him with a hawklike stare and twice saw the preacher's good hand clamp down on the shoulder, preventing Chris from getting up. He smiled then at the worry and fear housed there. "He's okay," He shouted over, but the furrowed green gaze didn't diminish. "J.D. yuh got the wagon ready? Make sure them mattresses are secure. I don't want Vin bouncin' are around too much."

"Hell, why don't I run up to St. Louis while I'm up," the youth snapped, the healer's words stopped him from sitting down finally.

"Don't sass me, Boy!" the healer countered, "Get that stretcher out, let's get the show on the road."

Chris watched with heavy eyes, as the wagon was packed and his best friend's prone unmoving body was lifted. The sun was much too harsh, even in the early morning light. It caused him to become languid and lazy. His eyes drifted shut, fighting hard to open when he felt himself being hauled upright. He saw Nathan at his side and grunted as pain shot through him.

"Take it easy now," the exmedic soothed, helping the injured man into the wagon. "Hunker down next to Vin. We're gonna put a canvas over top, so the sun won't get at yuh."

"Vin ... " Chris coughed, laying down on the thick mattress and sighing as the harsh sun was taken away. He clamped his good hand on the tracker's bare shoulder, nudging the blanket down so he could touch skin. His fumbling fingers felt the pulse racing through the scorched flesh and he relaxed. He kept his hand there, the fingers remained so wherever Vin was, he would know he wasn't alone. They stayed fixed in place, as the wagon rolled across the landscape and long after the green eyes slid shut.

Part Nine

A voice hovered far above, just out of his reach. Someone was calling him. He wrinkled his brow and muttered under his breath, turning the other way. He didn't want to wake up. Then the voice changed and became urgent. A hand gripped his arm, his wounded arm, and that did cause his eyes to jolt.

"Buck, you awake?"

"Ow! J.D.?" He coughed, mildly at first, then more violent. The congestion was clinging to him, like a cheap whore at two a.m. He felt movement as the youth drew him up and held a towel under his mouth. The congestion came up, along with some of his last meal.

"Sorry ... "

"Hold on," Dunne took the soiled towel and went to get a mug of water.

Buck was sitting up and eased his back against the short bedframe. He wheezed for several seconds, blinking as a body came into view. It was a bruised face, battered and discolored, above a mauled slim body glistening with a fine sheen of fever. There was no movement and for a scary scattering of seconds, he thought the tracker was dead. The word left his lips almost reverently, as one trembling hand reached out.

"Vin?"

"He's alive," a croaking, painful voice took the pale fear from his face, chasing it from his tense features. He wanted to turn back at the voice, but he couldn't take his eyes from Tanner. He was raised slightly, allowing his damaged lungs to breathe better. One arm was wrapped in bandages, rested across those that covered his chest. An angry, jagged cut on the top side of his head was oozing yellowish, clear fluid. But it was that miserable cloak of wetness that covered the Texan that worried the rogue. It gave his cheeks and forehead a strange, ruddy tone, while causing his hair to form a wet cap.

"Vin," Buck pleaded, hand falling back. He'd have given anything to see those blue eyes blink back at him, or hear that raspy drawl. He fell back against the bed then, finally ripping his gaze away. He closed his eyes, coughed painfully again, and felt a cold tin mug pressed to his palm. The bed depressed as a body sat on the bed next to him.

"Thanks, Kid," he peeled an eye open and to his surprise, saw a bandage over a bronzed, lean chest. As he drank, he took his eyes upward, until they saw the tense, pale face of Chris Larabee. He saw the new stitches above the eye and a sling. "You okay, Chris?"

"Yeah," Larabee sighed, using his good hand to take the empty cup. "We got in a couple hours ago."

"What the hell happened?" Buck pressed, patting the side of the worn black pants in a sign of friendship. He left the hand grip the knee for a few seconds, sighing in relief.

"Hell is the right word," the gunslinger relaxed, watching J.D. exit the kitchen. "Is there coffee back there, J.D.?"

"Yeah, I'll get you some. Hey, you're not supposed to be up. Nathan said ... "

"Bring Buck a cup too," he cut off the protest and like Buck, found it hard to take his eyes from the stilled and too silent form of his best friend. "Vin got jumped out there, Garrett whipped him."

"Shit!" Buck hissed, raking a hand through his damp, dark hair. "Is that fuckin' bastard dead?"

"Yeah, this morning ... "

"You take care of it?"

"No, Major Kelly did," Chris paused, "When I found them, Vin was all painted up, used his own blood for warpaint. He took a bullet in the upper thigh. He wasn't ... he was back in time, at the village where his sister got killed. Just a kid ... "

"Aw, hell ... " the tender-hearted rogue's shoulder's slumped. "I bet that shit's been rippin' him apart for years. It ain't right ... "

"He jumped me, took a knife to me," Chris continued, nodding to Josiah, who was helping Ezra into the room. Nathan followed them, making them complete once more. J.D. approached, handing Chris and Buck coffee. He took his eyes to each face, studying them carefully with hooded eyes. Then the turned back to Vin Tanner. With a slow flow of emotionless words, slipping past his tense lips, Chris Larabee told them of his ordeal in the desert . Of the valiant young boy who fought for his dead family, despite the severity of his own wounds. His voice caught only once, causing them each to turn their gaze towards the slim man lying so still in the bed.

"He thought I was his br..brother ... " Chris's voice cracked and he had to stop to catch his breath. He felt Buck's hand again, tapping his knee gently and nodded. "Teheno ... from what I could figure out, was married to his sister or fathered the dead baby. Vin was heartbroken, I think, somehow, in his eyes, he felt he failed him. That while they were away, he was supposed to protect her. He was shattered, wouldn't look at me ... " Chris lost his voice then and felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Nathan there.

"Yuh don't have to do this," the healer offered, seeing how upset the leader was becoming.

"Yeah, I do," The injured gunslinger took a deep steadying breath and nodded his gratefulness. His pale eyes shifted to Tanner then, as Nathan moved past with a basin of rubbing alchohol to work on the fevered body. "I don't know which Vin is gonna wake up ... you need to know, all of you, in case you're here. He doesn't trust white men, he got violent ... "

"But he was okay this morning ... " J.D. managed."He wouldn't hurt us ... "

"He'd do it and wouldn't think twice," Chris countered, "He came damn close to killing me ... you saw him earlier J.D., he didn't know you, you were the enemy. He'd have shot you with that gun you waved in his face. You need to know ... to be careful."

"Chris is right," Nathan peeled the blanket away and began to sponge Vin's tortured body. "His head wound is infected. It was a bad wound to begin with, between that, his fever and thinkin' on his sister, well, it's possible."

"Somehow, we got through the night." Chris paused then, recalling the mischief in the blue eyes. "This Teheno was important to him, Vin really felt something for him."

"I bet he was a handful," J.D. mused, "Pulling pranks and stuff ... "

"Yeah," Chris smiled then, "Before Garrett took his childhood away that night, he was happy. He had a family who loved him. A lot of what they gave him, made him what he is today. Then in one drunken, violent act, that bastard Garrett broke his heart and shattered his soul." He gripped bedpost in a deathgrip, white knuckles screaming. "He died too quick."

"By your hand?" Ezra paused, watching the white, hot unbridled rage on Larabee's face.

"No, " he paused, scowling, "dammit ... J.D. found us just before daybreak, I sent him back for a wagon. A little while later, Garrett reappeared. He shoved a gun in Vin's mouth."

"Good Lord!" the southerner repelled.

"You're not so far off, Ezra," Chris sighed, rubbing his throbbing face. The headache had only gotten worse since they arrived in town. He felt like shit. "I think the Lord's hand did move this morning. I threw myself at them, but missed, I hit Vin's chest. I heard a shot, felt blood hitting my face ... " He sighed deeply, expelling a long air of remembrance. "For a moment, I thought I was wearing Vin's brains. Somehow, God's hand? I don't know, it didn't happen."

"Major Kelly?" Josiah shook his head, "Helluva thing to bear."

"That son-of-a-bitch was gonna blow Vin's head off ... " Buck riled, upset that Josiah defended the army man's action.

"Buck," Chris caught his hot eyes, "Garrett was his son."

"What?" Buck winced, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Chris slumped, rubbed his aching eyes again and sipped his coffee.

"He told us last night, that's why he went with Chris." Josiah noted, "The boy and his mother were attacked by Appaches many years ago. He was the only survivor, he watched her die. It wasn't pretty. He never forgave the Major, blaming his job for his mother's death. Then the war came and he found a vehicle for his pent up rage. God forgive him, he's at peace now."

"God might, but I won't." Buck spat out, still hearing that cold voice describe what vile acts he performed on Vin's helpless sister.

"If you forgive men their trespasses," Sanchez began, only to be cut off by two pair of moltent hot eyes. One shooting green lava, the other dark blue fire.

"Don't you preach at me, Josiah, you weren't there," Buck coughed, fisting the bedclothes in anger. "You didn't hear his voice when he talked about her ... what he did to her ... " his face curled up in revulsion. "Christ, it was like he got hard again just thinking about it. You didn't see what it did to Vin. You ... "

"Easy now," Nate moved to Buck's side, when the short burst of anger caused him to cough up his coffee and more sputnum. "Yuh gettin' all worked up, yuh'll bring back that fever. Settle down, he's dead. It's over."

"Is it?" Chris managed, raising an eyebrow over Buck's huddled body at Nathan. He gripped Buck's shoulder hard in a show of support.

"It sounds like you had quite a trevail in the desert." Ezra walked stiffly to Vin's bedside, breaking the silence. He winced at the nearly concave chest that barely rose. "Will he recover?"

"I don't know," Nate sighed, nodding to Ezra who sat down gingerly. He watched as the southerner's hands gently wiped Vin's fine features. He tossed Buck's spit cloth in the can and motioned to the youngest "J.D. get over here and hold him down. I have to douse that head wound."

"Hey," Dunne noted standing behind Vin and putting all his weight against the injured man's shoulders. He eyed the battered bodies of the group and stuck his chest out. "With all of you laid up, I'm in charge." He beamed, jutting his chin out defiantely. He frowned at the chorus of groans, snorts of derisiveness and catcalls. "What?" he defended, "It's true ... "

"Hah!" Ezra shifted, moving away to let Nathan sit by Vin. "It would appear your travels have left your brain sun-addled."

"Don't get cocky, Kid," Chris smiled slightly.

"You don't even look good in black, J.D." Buck teased, grinning at the bold youth. "'course that damn hat of yours might cause a gang to choke on hysterical laughter."

"Ha ha ... you're all too funny!" the youth countered, pressing Vin's shoulders to the bed. "Nathan he's really hot."

"Is that right?" the healer said sarcastically. "Chris, can I ask yuh a favor?" He saw the blond tip his head. "Can yuh sit next to him, in case he wakes up. This is gonna hurt like hell and if he wakes up, I want yuh'r face to be the one he sees ."

"Okay," he walked gingerly around Buck's bed to Vin's, every step sending waves of pain though his side and head. He settled in, using his good hand to cup Vin's jaw, tilting the head towards him.

"J.D.?" Nate raised his eyes, "Yuh ready? He's gonna buck ... "

"I got him," the youth grunting, bearing down. His eyes shifted when he saw the gambler move in towards Vin's legs. It was only a split second, but enough for the quick eyes of the healer.

"Ezra get yuh'r ass outta there. Yuh ain't strong enough, that back is movin' on a wing and a prayer."

"Sorry," J.D. added, at the stern look Standish gave him.

"I got it," Josiah offered, using his good arm to press down on Vin's knees. "Go on, Nate, get it over with."

Nathan took the cloth soaking in carbolic out of the basin, wrung it out and pressed it to the open wound in one swift move. The scream split the air in time with the corpse-like body jerking back to life. The blue eyes shot wide open, the scream intensified, but Nate held firm. His right hand splayed across the Texan's chest, while the left hand held the cloth in place.

"Vin, calm down!" Chris hollered, watching both of the lost man's arms flailing away. Nathan's tools and bandages went flying from the bedside.

"He can't hear you Chris, he's not even here." Josiah shouted over the agonizing scream of pain. The large eyes were lost and unfocused, nearly black.

"Vin!" Chris tried again, as tears of pain rain from the tracker's muddled eyes. His grip on the square jaw was weakened by the flow of saliva that ran over his fingers. The razor-like screams of terror and pain ripped right through him. "Nathan get that fuckin' thing off his head now!"

"Chris, look out!"' Buck warned, too late. "Damn!" He lamented, watching Vin's fist pop up and catch Larabee square on the jaw. Josiah moved from his post to grab Chris as he toppled, sending both of them to the floor.

Finally, Vin slumped, falling sideways into Nathan's arms. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hoarsely, holding onto the fevered body for a moment longer. The hot breath from the uneven, labored breathing danced across his neck. Vin's head rested on his collarbone, under the strong hand. He brushed the wet, tangle of hair from the young man's face and sighed, feeling like he'd been gutshot by a elephant gun. Nobody was close enough to see. J.D. had moved away, kneeling over Chris's prone from. Josiah was unable to move, his bad arm was under Buck's bunk. So nobody saw the waves of unwarranted guilt wash over the healer. Vin was silent now, but the screams lingered in his head, mingling with the other one's. He stared in to space, seeing the bloody faces and dismembered bodies. The smell of roasting flesh roase over the train wreck.

"Well, that certainly went well," Ezra droned, eyeing the bodies all over floor.

"Ezra, you say one more word and you'll get Ipacac syrup on your pancakes!" Josiah warned. "J.D. what exactly are you doing up there. Get him off of me ... " he hissed, his shoulder throbbing.

"I'm trying!" the youth grunted, moving again, hooking his arms under Chris's and pulling. This worked for a few seconds, but then the youth lost his footing and landed on Chris.

"What the hell are you doing!" Josiah hollered, shaking the rafters. He froze then hearing another sound from above. "Keep it up Buck, I'm sure those three nurses that arrived today who you have lined up to bath you later, would love to hear about your wife and six kids ."

"Aw, hell, Josiah, you go no sense of humor. You okay, Kid?" Buck coughed.

"Is he okay!" Sanchez thundered.

"Nathan, I think ... " Buck paused, when he saw the strange look on Ezra's face. Both men watched Nathan for a moment, too stunned to speak. The large dark eyes were full of sorrow. The strong hands gently held the patient. The gambler seemed at a loss, looking at Buck for direction. The rogue shrugged and nudged J.D.

"Nathan what's wrong?" the sheriff blurted, tugging Chris upright. "Can you help with Chris? Is Vin okay?"

"Nathan?" Ezra moved in, gently prying Vin from the now startled ex-slave.

"Huh? Sorry ... I guess ... I musta ... "

"Completely understood, those screams of agony riddled all of us." He nodded to the floor, where the bodies still lingered. "I believe our youthful sheriff needs a hand. I'll see to Vin."

"Yeah," Nate's legs were shaky and he felt sick. He remained silent, still shaken over the horrid images he saw. Between the two of them, the got Chris to the empty bunk on the other side of Buck and covered him up. Instictively, he felt Chris's forehead. "He's a little warm. Maybe I should ... "

"After you get Josiah off the floor, maybe you should get some air, Nathan," Buck suggested. "You okay?"

"I don't know, Buck," the healer admitted honsetly, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I just don't know." He moved then, getting Josiah up and let the larger man lead him outside.

For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Ezra finished sponging Vin off and pulled a sheet up to his neck. J.D. got Buck two mugs of water and sat on the edge of Chris's bunk.

"What the hell was that?" Buck finally spoke, looking at Ezra.

"Nothing to be taken lightly. I think we need to watch him carefully. The trauma of what he was forced to witness may be too much to bear." The southerner noted, "I think I'll have a word with Doctor Smith."

"Ezra, hold off on that," Buck worried, "Let's keep in the family for awhile. It might not happen again and I don't like going behind his back. I know you mean well ... "

"Understood," the other agreed. "Speaking of the newly arrived First Aid Corp., I am overdo for my midday medicinal bath. Miss Abigail Bauer of the San Fransisco Branch of the American Red Cross is waiting for me."

"Which one is she?" Buck eyes darted back and forth. Then he saw the cheshire smile on the smug southerner as he moved slowly and stiffly towards the door. "Aw, hell, the brunette with the big chest?" He winced as the glint from the sun hitting the gold tooth nearly blinded him. "Ezra get back here ... Ezra ... aw, hell ... " he settled back in his pillows, his heavy eyes falling shut. J.D. waited until Buck was sleeping, before pulling the sheet up. He eyed the three slumbering patients and picked up the empty mugs and pitchers, placing them on a tray. Nathan left strict orders for lunch and he had to heat up the large kettle of soup that the woman from the boarding house dropped off. There was also fresh bread in the oven and he had to get more tea brewing. He moved silently into the kitchen, leaving the patients sleeping.

Finally he was alone. He was on fire, the flames licked at this back and arm, a horrid pain ripped through his hip but it was the agonizing explosion in his tender head that drove him to near madness. Through slitted eyes, he stole around the room, investigating every window and door. His hand slid down the mattress, tucking the small, funny knife underneath. After the one with dark skin put the fire on his head, the knife fell away. He saw the bluecoats outside, walking past the window. He saw them again in his mind's eye, laughing as they murdered his family. They would pay, all of them, for what they did.

"..tso'ape ... " he whispered, seeing the 'ghosts' of his family. They were troubling ... their spirits couldn't rest. His anger rose, hot and feral, stabbing at his broken heart. He eyed the sleeping enemy nearby, their pale faces burning in his brain. "Daiboo ... " he blinked of the white men, stabbing the mattress with knife. He blinked as sweat rolling into his eyes, stinging him and causing the blurry images to fade. He tucked his prize away, waiting for darkness, then he would have his revenge.

The streets of Fullerton were crowded, as the normal population swelled. Those injured in the train crash as well as their families and the army caused the stores, saloon and hotel to be dense with bodies. The ambled up and down the streets, enjoying the sunshine and their voices carried in the wind, blending into a dull buzzing sound. At least, that is what it sounded like to Nathan Jackson. His head was pounding; a throbbing red pulsation behind his eyes. He felt sick to the stomach and the bodies bumping into him, on the boardwalk, only made it worse. Sweat poured down his face, obscuring his vision. He blinked at the limbs strewn on the sidewalk. He walked faster, trying to find air, suddenly he couldn't breathe. The stench of the newly dead filled his hot lungs. He heard Josiah from far away, as his long strides left the other man behind. He couldn't find peace, they were everywhere. The eyes, be they pale or dark, burning into him. Words came from all directions, in hushed whispered tones. Words of accusation and failure, shooting out of the dense buzzing in his ears.

"Stop it," he hissed painfully. He shook his head, staggered to the left and if not for a steadying hand grabbing, he would have fallen.

"Are you alright?" Orrin Travis asked, seeing the ashen complexion on the healer. When he didn't get a response, he guided the shaken younger man into the shop they were in front of. It was a dry goods store. He moved the staggering body to a cool spot in the back and sat him down. "Nathan?"

"Judge?" the shaking man gasped, eyeing the strange room. The bodies were gone and the smell was too. His hands were trembling and his breath came in pants. "I'm sorry ... I think I'm okay now. Just got a little dizzy ... I guess."

"You've been under a terrific strain, it's no wonder you're not well. Would you like some water? Or perhaps something stronger?"

"Water'll be fine, thanks," he sighed, breathing hard. He leaned back against the wall, resting his head and shutting his eyes.

"Josiah, what's wrong with Nathan?" Orrin Travis inquired, nodding his appreciation to the store clerk. He held a mug of cold water and a cold, damp cloth.

"I'm not sure, Orrin," The other admitted, rubbing his injured shoulder. "I think, maybe, it's catching up to him. I know some doctor's in the war went through it ... hearing screams when no one was there, reliving the horrors." He paused, "Maybe he just needs some rest ... I don't know."

They walked back to where Nate was sitting and Josiah rested a hand on the tan cloth covering the slumped shoulder.

"Thought for sure Rain was at the end of the street, the way you took off." the preacher's deep voice chased the dazed man's eyes open.

Nathan opened his eyes and sat forward, taking the water and sipping it slowly. He took the cloth then, wiping his face and neck. "Thanks, Judge, I don't know what happened."

"Why don't you get some rest? I'll meeting with the others, except Vin and Buck, with the General and the President for dinner. You might feel better. Have you eaten?"

"I doubt if anything would stay put," Nate rose, "but I am tired. On the other hand, what if Vin needs me ... he's awful sick."

"You don't take care of what's ailing you, Brother and you'll be in the bunk next to him." Josiah's concerned voice added, " ... that won't do him any good. Me and J.D. can cover it, I'll get you if he gets worse, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, thanks." He gave Josiah's arm a pat and left for the room he was sharing with Ezra.

The other two watched him go, wondering if rest were the answer, or if what troubled the shaken man ran far deeper.

The sun shone warm on his face, the smell of dinner filled the air. He saw his grandfather and his uncles across the village. His brothers and sisters played nearby, laughing and chasing Nokeke's new puppy. He felt his grandmother hug him from behind, kissing his cheek and scolding him gently for daydreaming. He picked up his knife and continued skinning the rabbit. He never felt so happy. He took a deep breath, as the soft wind tickled his chin.

Something hurt, his chest filled with pain and he gasped, twisting his body to find air. The fire in his head roared to life, as did the one in his arm. So much pain, he thought, as his eyes flew open and his heart fell. No more sun in his heart, no more happy voices, the village was gone, they were all dead.

"Gai ... " he whispered, painfully, his throat tight and his eyes burning. He'd never feel his grandmother's kiss again, or his grandfather's strong hand. He'd never see the radiance of life beaming from his sister's face as she nursed her new son. Instead he saw he dead eyes, questioning him and smelled his family's flesh roasting. "Gai ... " He sat up, biting back a cry of pain as his upper leg pulsed in agony. It was so hard to see, the room was dark and strange. There was no blue sky or soft grass under his feet. Where was he? What had happened? He blinked at the blurry face a few feet away. A man with dark hair was sleeping. He blinked at the small peep of window across the room, and saw soldiers across the street. Then he remembered the viscious beating he'd received, trying to stop them. They laughed at him, tied him up and forced him to watch. He didn't remember how he got here. His fingers felt the knife nearby and he picked it up. Free. He would be free again, he would be no man's prisoner. He stood and gasped as a hot spear stabbed his thigh and back. His features were a mask of agony, as he stumbled forward. He gripped the edge of the table and eyed the dark room ahead. It was next to the room he was in and the only way out. He mouth was on fire, his thirst was that great. He was so hot ... like he was in the sweat lodge with his grandfather. He needed water and air ... water ... water. That was his goal, he staggered to the dark room, seeking relief.

A small bird peered in window, watching curiously as the human inside thrashed on the bed. The dark skin glistened and the tall body shook. The wet head tossed on the pillow, the tortured mouth moaned in pain. Another bird called to him and he flew off, leaving the tormented soul behind in the hotel room.

The smoke was thick and seared his lungs. He stepped over the broken bodies, feeling naked in the eyes of the dead he passed. He couldn't save them. The tangled, shredded ruins of the train lie in pieces, strewn like a discarded child's toy. He felt an arm tugging on his pants and looked down. A small child reached up to him, his cries of pain were breaking his heart. He bent to lift the boy, and the child's skin fell off in his hands. Bright pink patches peeked through the teeming blood. There was nothing but melted flesh and jagged bones where a face should have been.

"I'm sorry ... " Nathan staggered away, clapping his hands over his ears. It didn't help, the still called.

*"Help me ... please ... help me ... "*

"Vin! Ezra?" the tormented man paused, hearing them calling. He pushed his way into the burning car, trying to track the weak voices. He pulled the wreckage apart, digging on ... hoping he was in time.

"My dear, I intend to write to the head of your branch office. Your talented hands have taken a great burden from my aching body." Ezra moaned, lying flat on his belly on a hard, slim table. The medicinal oils and herbs in the piping hot water had given him relief. Now, fresh from the tub, he was wrapped from the hips to the ankles in a cotton blanket.

"Don't move now, let me do all the work." The pretty nurse oozed, eyeing the handsome patient. She made up her mind when she lowered him into the tub, that she wanted more.

"Words to live by," the gambler purred, inhaling the soothing scent of sandlewood, nutmeg, clove, wild berries, ginger and other exotic spices. "Ahhh ... ." he groaned in near unholy pleasure as her silken fingers rubbed the hot herbal mixture gently onto the bruised flesh on his lower back.

"Am I hurting you?" she baited, feeling the firm flesh move.

"Darlin', don't burden your sweet lips with such a thought," he clenched, feeling pressure where she couldn't see it. The combination of her own scent, mingled with the herbs, in a tempting aroma. Her touch was like fire. By the time the slow massage worked it's way up his back and her thumbs teased his neck and shoulders, he could barely talk. He groaned again and she paused, bending over to see his face. She wiped her hands and brushed the stray hair from his brow.

"Is it too hot?" She asked in a low sultry voice, letting her fingers cup his face.

"Hah!" he choked of the double-edged truth to the words. The heat he felt had nothing to do with the medical treatment. "I am a bit moist," he choked, "A drink perhaps?" Her pretty face seemed to swim for a moment and his face flushed. He felt her strong hands turn him gently and raise him up. He sagged a bit and found his cheek resting against her rather well appointed chest. The irony of it nearly choken him. His injured back prevented any thought of amourous activity. She felt so soft and he nestled in the curves; she smelled wonderful. His half-lidded gaze was interrupted, when a cold mug nudged his lips. He slurped in a most ungentlemenly fashion, as the pressure caused her to press into him close ... too close.

"Thank you, Miss Bauer, I'm fine now," he pulled away, sat up and gingerly eased off the table. The pain had diminished considerably and the lack of tension in the muscles on his back was a miracle. He sighed, relaxed and let his pent up breath out.

"I told you I could work magic with my fingers," she purred, moving in front of him, slipping her hands on his waist. Her fingers curled underneath resting on his damp hips. "and it's Abby. Let's get you dressed ... " she went to tug at the towel, but found her wrist grabbed.

"No!" Erza yelped, grateful for the thick folds of blanket covering his lower half. "I mean, that is to say, I can manage. Whatever monetary reward you are being paid by the Red Cross is not enough. I should like to thank you properly."

"Oh, I can think of several ways ... " she whispered, pressing against him and brushing his lips with her finger. "Maybe we can discuss them later?" She traced a lazy line up his jaw and around his ear, drawing a sharp hiss.

"It would be my pleasure," Ezra returned huskily, capturing the hand and kissing it. "There is a cafe down the street, not as crowded as the hotel. Seven perhaps?"

"I'll bring my blue velvet bag," she promised with a sigh and turned away.

" ... uh ... blue ... velvet ... bag ... " he gasped as she gave his backside a light pat.

"My own special herbal oils for all parts of the body. They work wonders ... " she paused, "You really should have another treatment before bed. It's much easier when you're already undressed and waiting." She offered, as she placed his neatly folded shirt, pants and other garments on the bench nearby. "Until seven, then," she smiled, picked up her things and left.

"My Dear," Ezra whispered, watching her image pass through the door. "I can think of no one that better suits the title 'angel of mercy'." He eased into his clothes slowly, not wishing to do anything to jeopardize his moonlight magic trip.

"Oh God," J.D. gasped in shock, when he peeked into the quiet room. He'd been preparing supper for Buck and Vin and decided to check on the injured men. Chris and Buck were sleeping still, but Vin's cot was empty. Where could he have gone? "Vin?" he called out, but heard nothing. He moved to Buck's bunk, shaking the congested man. "Buck, wake up ... Buck!"

"What?" the sick man growled, having been roused from a deep sleep. "J.D.? Where's the fire?"

"Vin's gone."

"Gone?" Buck groaned, "God, I didn't think he was that bad off. I mean I know there was a chance but ... "

"No! he's not dead, he's missing!" the youth corrected, pointing to the empty bed. "Did you hear anything?"

"Missing?" Buck sat up, coughed violently, spitting the residue and gazing at the spot where the Texan should be resting. "How the hell did that happen?"

"It's not my fault!" Dunne shot back, "I can't be everywhere. I was in the kitchen, making you guys dinner."

"Quit barkin' at me, I wasn't blamin' you," Buck rubbed his eyes. "He can't be far, hell he can't be walkin' ... between his leg and that fever ... " He paused when a series of moans and soft cries echoed through from the other room. "There he is ... " he nodded, as the younger man turned to go to the door. "What the hell is he doing in there?" He frowned in annoyance, as the near naked tracker staggered into view. He was soaking wet, his fevered face was accented by glazed eyes, much too bright.

"Godammit Vin, get back in bed," Buck ordered, "What do you think you ... " his words were cut off by strange look locked onto the sharpshooter's features.

Vin froze, when he heard the man's voice. The rage in his heart overpowered the heat in his body. He squinted and widened his eyes, trying to see through the blurry room. Everything looked like it did when he opened his eyes under the riverwater. He saw a body appear in front of him, white face, dark hair. The face of the enemy.

"Vin, you just about scared me to death!" J.D. chastised, reaching out to steady the dazed man. "Nathan's gonna kill you ... .you busted your stitches," he frowned, eyeing the scarlett staining the area on the falling long john's sliding down past Vin's slim hips. "Come on, I'll ... "

"Daiboo!" He screamed, raising the knife and slashing at the intruder.

"No!" Buck and J.D. cried out in unison. Buck watched in horror as the knife swung, narrowly missing J.D.'s neck. In order to avoid the blade, the youth moved sideways too quickly and without looking. He slammed his forehead into the doorframe, and slid to the ground.

"Vin, put that knife down ... Vin ... " Buck warned, unable to twist his body to see where Chris was. "Chris, get up ... Chr ... " his warning dissolved in a harsh, wet cough, nearly choking him. He fought to dislodge the offensive matter, which prevented his breath. No sooner than it passed his lips, when he was shoved back onto the bed. A nimble body, splayed over him, lips curled in molten rage. The eyes were blue fire and the flushed face hot with more than fever. Murder. Buck knew that look, he'd seen it before. Murder. Plain and simple. Vin Tanner wanted to kill him. One hand was clamped to his throat, choking him, the other was poised high, holding a scalpel. The glint on the metal matched the malicious intent in those angry eyes. "Chr ... is ... " he gasped weakly as the blade began to fall.

Ezra frowned as he unlocked the door to his room. He heard noises inside, loud noises, as if the room were being ransacked. A robbery? He pushed the door open a few inches, peeking inside. His eyes furrowed in confusion, when he saw Nathan Jackson pulling the drawers from the chest and throwing them to the floor.

"Nathan!" He shouted, moving inside and over to former slave. "What on earth on you doing?"

He was close, he could feel it. Somewhere in this smoldering pile of metal, were his two friends. They were hurt and they needed him. He saw Vin's face then, covered in blood. One hand reached out.

"Vin, I'm comin' hold on ... "

"What?" Ezra paused, then realized too late, the other man was not awake. He was lost in a dream, a violent one.

"Get away!" Nathan shoved the horridly disfigure body who tried to stop him from reaching Vin. He was about to turn back, when a scream of agony changed his mind. He turned and saw Ezra on the floor, writhing in pain. "Ezra?" he said in a small voice, confused and unsure. The southerner was here, yet far away. A heavy fog rolled into the car, covering all of them. He couldn't see Vin or Ezra.

"Ezra, where are yuh? I can't see yuh?"

From the spot between the bed and window, where he was thrown, the green-eyed conman was paralyzed in pain. It shot up his back and across his neck. He couldn't speak, not even to scream, for the agony locked his vocal chords. But when he saw Nathan's face and heard that voice, that frightened him more. How could Nathan not see him? He was a few feet away. Then he watched the wet brown face grow ashen. The tortured brown eyes roamed over the trashed room.

"What the hell?" Nathan choked hoarsly, seeing the damage. "Ezra!" He froze, as the sudden realization slapped in the face, hard and cold. His nightmares spilled over into reality and his friend has paid the price. "Oh God, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean ... Let me help yuh ... " he managed, pulling his shaky limbs together and bending down.

"No!" Ezra blurted out, fearful of anyone touching him. The pain left as long as he didn't move. He realized his mistake too late. Nathan misunderstood his hysterical scream. "Don't ... go ... " he gritted, trying not to move his head. "I need ... your ... help ... I'm sorry ... didn't ... mean ... Nathan ... . Nathan ... " he called, but the room was empty now. His fearful cry had driven the tortured man from the room. Where did he go? What if the nightmare returned? Someone needed to help him. But nobody knew, because he was trapped on the floor and couldn't tell them. He tried to lift his head and the pain exploded again, nearly sending him into blackness. "Wonderful ... " he sighed in frustration, as a large black bug crawled up his hand and onto his arm, making a path towards his face.

"Chr ... is ... " Buck called again, stronger. He got one arm free and managed to grip the slick wrist, just inches from his exposed throat. He clenched his teeth and fought back, but his damaged lungs were crying for relief. He began to wheeze, Vin's full weight was pressing on his chest. His arm began to shake and weaken, as his air diminished. Vin's black eyes were lost in another world, he turned, instead, to his oldest friend. How could Larabee be still sleeping? Was his head injury worse than they thought? Buck's hand slipped and he hissed as the blade nicked his ear. Vin was weakening too, but Buck knew he was dangerously close to passing out. All he could manage was short breaths and they were dwindling. The sweat pouring off Vin's face and hair dripped onto him. The tracker's grunts of rage mixed with sharp cries of pain. Buck flinched as his wrist slipped and the blade moved closer, the tip pressed to his budging vein. With his last ounce of strength, he took a deep breath.

"CHRIS ... WAKE UP ... CHRISSSSS ... ."

Part Ten

Thick mud. Dark, dank, hot and suffocating. It surrounded him, filling his heavy head and pressing his body down. He struggled to free himself, fighting against the smothering wall. It reminded him of the winters he spent during the war, trudging through swollen rivers during storms. Then a voice split through the muck, splitting it in half and freeing his bound body. Someone was calling him. Someone needed him. Someone was desperate. He knew that voice.

"Buck?" he croaked, forcing his eyes open. For a split second, he thought he was still dreaming. He blinked rapidly, hoping to dispell the garish sight. Vin was sprawled crookedly on Buck. The Texan was soaking wet, his head was dripping streams down the flushed face. "Vin?" He groaned, trying to sit up. Then he saw the knife and moved so quickly, the spinning room was left in the dust. He tore the sling off without flinching. "No!" He cried, grabbing the injured man's wrist. "Gimme that knife ... what the hell are you doing?"

That voice cut through the anger, taking the red wall down and releasing a stream of heated emotions. Vin turned stunned and gazed at the irate face of his brother. He was here! Teheno was alive! His jaw trembled, he remained frozen in shock, unable to tell if it were real.

Chris didn't see the stunned face and fevered eyes grow wide in blue amazement. He didn't see the pale lips trying to form a word. He couldn't see the tears forming in the delirious man's eyes. What he saw was a slack white face on the pillow. He didn't hear Buck's horrid, loud congestive breath. Was Buck dead? Was he too late? Fearing the worst, he shoved the weak attacker hard, sending him sprawling. "Buck, Buck ... " he tapped the stilled face, cringing at the imprints of Vin's hands on Buck's neck. He saw blood on the pillow and frowned, his fumbling fingers finally found a pulse. "Shit!" he sighed, dropping his head as a groan sounded. "Buck, you okay? Can you hear me?" He lifted him forward as the blue eyes shot wide open, the mouth a frantic oval. "Take it easy, cough it up. Come on, dammit," He ordered, pounding Wilmington's back hard. Finally a huge burst of air came forth, coughing and spitting up water and phlegm. The hands waved frantically, alarmed and fearful. "Calm down! I got you."

"V ... i ... n ... " Buck whispered, rubbing his throat. " ... got ... knife ... where ... he ... Chr ... "

"I know," the blond eyed the fallen Texan, who was huddled against the wall, not moving. "I'm gonna go check him now." Then he stopped and looked around as another groan was echoed across the room. "J.D.?"

"I'm ... okay ... Chris ... " the youth stood, rubbing his head and shaking the stars from his vision. "Vin's crazy ... he's talking Indian again."

"Vin?" Chris stood and started to move to the wall.

"Chris, be careful, he's got a knife." Buck warned, still coughing and feeling the blade on his neck. "He damn near slit my throat."

"He's terrified, Buck. From his eyes, he's thirteen, all alone in the world and just saw his family slaughtered. He won't hurt me," the other predicted, squatting down. "Vin, are you okay? Can I have that knife?"

He rose his head slowly, afraid to look. All the andrenalin was gone now, leaving him a pile of aching bones and throbbing flesh. His head was the worst, so painful it brought tears. He leg was on fire, his back and arm burning as well. His jaw trembled as his blurry vision took in a strange room , filled with his enemy. Then he heard his brother's voice and cocked his wet head. His breath came in hot pants and his tongue felt too big. Breathing heavily, he raised his eyes in trepidation. "Teheno?" He whispered, hope shining through his eyes.

"Yeah, it's me, Vin." Chris sighed, shaking his head. He held his palm out. "Give me the knife."

"Gai!" Vin hissed, too frightened to trust his instincts. What happened? Why were they here in the enemy's camp? "Hagani naakwa?"

"You got hurt," Chris answered the panic blue pools shimmering just a few feet away. "See," he nodded to the bleeding leg and pointed to the ragged head wound. "These people are helping you, they care about you. They won't hurt you ... "

"Gai! Gai!" Vin denied, baring his teeth. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. The sweat poured down, stinging his eyes and making hard to see. " ... Daiboo.." he pleaded to Teheno. Why did his brother turn against him? "Daiboo. ..Bazi ... "

"No!" Chris answered the fear and trembling body, "They didn't hurt her. The man that did that is dead. Do you understand, Vin. He's dead. I saw it, it's true. Okay?" Chris pleaded, inching closer. Still Vin made no move to turn the knife over. Chris wouldn't force it, Vin needed to understand there was no threat here. "These people are my friends, they won't hurt you."

" ... hainji?" he questioned of the word 'friend' and motioned to the two strange men. How could that be? "eN?" He nodded to his brother.

"Yeah, they're my friends." Chris soothed, watching the grip on the knife ease up. He also saw the blood pooling on Vin's leg. That concerned him, knowing the surgeon took such care to repair the damage. "Nobody will hurt you, I promise."

His hand trembled, his fevered eyes fought hard to stay open. They drifted to the two men and back to Teheno. He stared hard at his brother's eyes and sighed. Teheno would never hurt him. He handed the knife over and dropped his head. How would he ever become a great warrior, if he kept messing up?

" ... su'ahaibei ... " he shamed, his voice trembling.

Chris handed the knife to J.D. and moved closer, next to the fallen man. He didn't know what that word was, but he knew what it meant. Vin was ashamed, afraid to look at him. He tipped the chin up and gripped the shoulder with the other hand.

"I understand, Vin, it's not your fault." He pressed, "You woke up in a strange place, hurt and alone. Scared you huh?"

"Haa," Vin nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Teheno was real; he was here and the hand on his shoulder wasn't going away. He took several steadying breaths and lifted his head.

"Better?" Chris asked.

"Haa," Vin agreed, coughing and wincing. His throat was on fire. "Baa ... baa ... Teheno?"

"Yeah, okay," Keeping a hand on Vin, he turned, "J.D. get me some water?"

"Sure," the youth paused as Buck's bed, watching the amazement on Wilmington's face.

"If I didn't see it ... " Buck answered J.D.'s look.

"Yeah, I know." The youth concluded, making a quick trip and getting a pitcher of water. He poured two mugs, handing one to Chris. He helped Buck drain the first one, not hiding the relief in his face.

"Hell, J.D., I ain't a ghost," the rogue found a small smile and felt a flush of warmth at the concern the younger man housed.

"Easy Vin, don't drink it too fast, you'll throw up." Chris predicted, steadying the weak hands that held the cup.

Vin frowned, came up for air and then nodded. He stuck his tongue out, pushed two fingers into it and gagged, recalling the previous explanation. He smiled then, pointing the cup to his brother. "Teheno ... ha ha ... "

"You thought that was funny, huh?" Chris eased, glad to have gained the trust back.

"Haa!" Vin chuckled, then coughed, turning his face into Teheno's strong palm. Did his brother know how glad he was to see him again? "babi ... " Vin choked, his eyes filling.

"Yeah, I know," Chris smiled, cuffing the cheek lightly. "Come on, let's get you back to bed ... "

"Gai! Gai!" Vin backed up, hitting the wall, his heart pounding.

"Yes!" Chris thundered, his eyes flashing like lightning. "Quit foolin' around and get back in bed."

"Daiboo!" Vin denied, eyeing the strange room.

"Fine, have it your way!" Larabee angered, standing, "I'm leaving. Goodbye." With that he turned, not able to see the horror painted on the fevered Texan's face.

"Chris ... " Buck warned, only to be cut off.

"I know what I'm doing, Buck, stay out of it."

With that he was gone, having disappeared into the side room, which was dark. For several minutes, nobody moved. Buck turned sideways, and then regretted it. Vin Tanner was one of the most dangerous men he'd ever met. But that man was gone. In his wake, a young boy, terrified and all alone in the world. His lower lip trembled and his wide, wet eyes were glued to the darkened doorway. His face was an anguished mask of sorrow. One hand rose up, reaching out to where Larabee disappeared.

"Te ... he..no ... "

It wasn't a voice, it was a whispered prayer. A broken plea that left both of the onlookers speechless and helpless.

"Te ... he..no ... " he called out, voice quivering. The pain in his head was unbearable; his leg throbbed and he was dizzy. But without his brother, he couldn't survive. He was sorry. He wouldn't disobey again. He would be good. "Te..he..no ... " he sobbed, tears rolling. He reached his hand out again, grasping air. " ... go'aiH ... " he begged, if only his brother would 'come back'. "Te..he..no.. Go'aih ... " he sobbed harder, his voice raw and ragged. It was too late, he'd lost his brother for good. He dropped his head, sobbing harder. "Gai ... Gai ... " he choked in disbelief, he'd failed, now he was truly lost and alone.

Buck started to get out of bed, needing to wrap this young Vin his arms and chase that fear away. But J.D. stopped him, knowing how delicate the surgery was on the rogue's injured leg. "Buck, you can't ... "

"Jesus, Chris, you're breaking his heart!" Wilmington implored, his own heart on shaky grounds.

"Are you going to behave and do as I tell you?" The stern voice requested from the dark.

"Haa ... Haa!" Vin choked, pulling his head up. His heart began to pound hard and his fevered eyes were glued to the door. They were searching, hoping and praying. Then he smiled, choking in relief through his tears, as Teheno reappeared.

Ignoring Buck's black look, bordering on rage, he dropped to Vin's side. He flinched at the desperate hold the fevered man had on him. The need to feel it was real was more than evident. The claw like grip was born of a dark fear. He gathered him close, rocking him slightly as the coughing and choking plagued the trembling body. "Cut that out, before you throw up all over me!" He chastised gently, leaning close to Vin's ear. "I'll never leave you. I have faith in you. I'll take care of you." That did it, the terrible tremors slowed, the coughing died down and dissolved into hiccups. He felt a cloth pressed to his hand. "Thanks, J.D.," He pulled Vin back and wrinkled his nose. "You're a mess, Tanner." He wiped the face and held the cloth over the very runny nose. "Blow ... good ... better?"

"Haa, " Vin sighed, not able to keep his eyes open.

"Let's get you back in bed and fix that leg, okay?"

"Maiku," Vin agreed quietly, touching Teheno's cheek, "babi.." he sighed in content, before passing out in his brother's arms.

"He's out again, Chris," J.D. felt Vin's head. "His fever's worse. I'm gonna find Nathan. Come on, I'll give you a hand." He went to grab Vin under the arms, but Chris hadn't moved yet. Vin was pressed sideways to his chest, the wet head tucked under his chin. Chris's face was a strange mixture of relief, deep affection and fear.

"You okay, Chris?" Buck asked, seeing the same thing the young sheriff did.

"I don't know," Chris whispered, reluctant to give up his hold on the fragile soul and broken heart. Finally he moved, taking Vin's knees under one hand.

"Here, Chris, let me help you," Dunne offered, only to be cut off.

"I got him," Chris vowed, rising slowly, ignoring the pain that ravished his own body.

"You're hurt Chris, you shouldn't be ... "

"I got him!" the blond bellowed, standing and moving to the bunk. They didn't understand, how could they? He felt his guts shred and land on the floor as soon as Vin latched onto him. Something was born inside. A part of him felt a need to help this younger Vin heal completely. Maybe, somehow, that way, when Vin returned to them, the unwarranted guilt he felt over his family's death would be purged for good. That was his job. He gave his word and he wouldn't fail.

"Go on, Kid, get Nathan," Buck nodded, waiting for J.D. to disappear. "Chris, you need to put some pressure on his leg. Chris?"

"Yeah," he said thickly, wiping the sweat-laden face of the unconscious man. He studied the fine features, saw right through the swollen bruises to the relaxed face. That he held that power, to take away a wound festering for far too many years, left him speechless and awed. He took a deep breath and then turned his emotions off temporarily. He cut the long johns off, made two trips to get hot soapy water and washed the jagged wound. Some of the stitches were gone, but it wasn't as bad as he first thought. He managed to stop the bleeding, douse it with carbolic and rewrap it. He continued to bath the fevered body, speaking softly when the unfocused eyes would open. Upon hearing his voice, a soft smile would form and satisifed, they would close again.

"Where the hell is J.D.?" Chris stood finally, covering Vin lightly. "It's been a half hour."

Had it been hours or minutes? Ezra peeled an eye open and swallowed hard. Daylight streamed in the room. The degree of brightness and the angle told him it was late afternoon. He sighed, realizing he'd passed out only for a few moments. Deathly still and barely drawing a breath, there was no pain. Maybe ... perhaps ... he gritted his teeth and tried to rise, only to have a paralyzing pain rip through is back.

"God ... " He groaned, panting heavily as sweat ran off his face. From his side vision, he saw his multilegged black friend, crawling past his elbow. "How reassuring, you haven't deserted me." He paused as the insect moved again. "Nothing personal, I assure you," he took a deep breath and flicked his upper arm. The bug went flying and the pain slammed into him.

"Ahhhhhh!" He cried out, clenching his eyes shut. "God spare me this agony and take me now."

"Ezra?"

His eyes shot open and shifted. For several seconds, nothing changed, then a body appeared. A graying hair and smokey eyes.

"You look disappointed," Josiah knelt down.

"You ... weren't ... who ... I was ... expecting ... " the southerner clenched his teeth.

"What happened?" the eldest looked around the trashed room. "Looks like you interrupted a robbery. Can you move at all?"

"In order of appearance," the other spat in frustration, "I have no idea, there was no intruder and is it not apparent to you that I am not exactly up to a tango?"

"Myself, I prefer blonds," Sanchez dryly added, "But you are kinda cute."

"Spare me your droll sense of humor and dispense a physician."

"Where's Nathan?"

"I have no idea." Ezra's voice changed then, as he recalled the anguished face. "I arrived to find him tossing the drawers around."

"He did this?"

"Is there something wrong with my speech? Or is it your hearing that suffers!" Standish spat back. He was in agony and now to add to his embarrassed state, his bladder was about to erupt.

"He left you here? Maybe he went to get help?"

"No, he misunderstood my rather hysterical reply. I approached him while he was ... uh ... sleepwalking I suppose. I didn't realize until it was too late, that he was revisiting the scene of the accident. He lashed out, I landed here and feared movement of any kind. He bent to aid me and I screamed 'No'. I didn't mean it the way it sounded, I think he blamed himself ... "

"I'll get some help, I saw Doctor Smith downstairs."

"I have an urgent matter that requires immediate attention."

"What urgent matter?" the preacher frowned, then saw the flush rise. "Oh, that kind ... how much is it worth? I could retire a wealthy man."

"I could use a little less of your weak attempt at humor." Ezra snapped, the pressure building to a boiling point. "Name your price."

"Hmmm ... " Josiah rubbed his chin, rose and took a vase of flowers from the window. He took the flowers out and knelt back down. "I'm sure in light of your newfound generosity, you'll be far more giving to the church fund."

"Agreed," Ezra clenched, "Proceed!" he hissed.

"Nathan, are you in here?" J.D. asked, poking his head in the door. "What happened to the ... " The ransacked room seemed unimportant. His hazel eyes widened at the sight before him. "Oh My God!"

"Good Lord!" Ezra groaned, his face flaming, he glared openly at Sanchez. "That supreme being you are so fond of has a wicked sense of humor." He heard the rolling laugher above as he finished urinating and Josiah tucked him away.

"Could be worse, Ezra, it could have been Buck." The preacher rose and put the flowers back in the full vase. "Now that would have put a real dent in your income." He turned back to the youth, who was still staring. "J.D. shut your mouth, you're attracting flies."

"Where's Nathan? Vin got loose, he's talking like an Indian again, like when he was young. He ripped his leg open. It's bleedin' bad and he almost killed Buck."

"Slow down ... " the eldest put his hands up. "Where's Vin now?"

"He's in bed. Chris finally got through to him. He thinks Chris is Teheno again. Chris figures Vin is about thirteen and it's right after his family was murdered. He don't trust anybody ... well except Chris."

"Okay," Josiah sighed, "Nate's not here. He had a bad nightmare and Ezra got caught in the middle. He can't move, he hurt his back. I'm gonna find Doctor Smith. Once we get Ezra squared away ... "

"Nonsense," Standish absorbed the words. "As long as I remain still, I am in no pain. Send the doctor to examine our fallen comrade."

"You must be delirious, Ezra, you're gettin' downright chivilrous," the preacher smiled, "J.D. you stay here with him. I'll send somebody up with a wide board. You keep Ezra on it and put him on the bed, understand?"

"Yeah," the other nodded, "But where's Nathan?"

"I don't know, Son, but as soon as I get Vin taken care of, I'll find out." He paused at the door, watching Ezra's flushed face. "You be sure to keep your hands warm, in case Ezra has to heed the call again."

"Huh?" J.D. screwed his face up, then flushed bright red. "I'm not doing that! You best be in shouting distance, Preacher."

"Why didn't I go East that day?" Ezra groaned, recalling the trip to the dusty town where'd he first met the others.

He found himself at the river, stripping down, he quickly dove into the rushing water. The sharp cold teeth invigorated him. He swam back and forth, releasing all his tension. Finally, exhausted he collapsed on the bank. The hot desert sun baked his skin. He pulled his pants on, leaving his dark chest bare. He staggered to the horse, grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the saddlebag and sat down. He took a swig and eyed the smoldering ruins on the other side of the water. With every swig of courage, the pain went away. He welcomed the numbness when it arrived, lying back under a tree, he closed his eyes. The screams came, the burned bodies appeared, skin dropping off in bloody piles at his feet. He rocked on the ground trying to wade through the tangled mountain of arms, legs and body parts.

"No ... leave me alone ... " He screamed. "God in Heaven I'm sorry," He sobbed, rocking back and forth. His troubled mind took him back in time, to another day by a river. He saw her there, arms reaching out. She was beautiful, warm and loving. She welcomed him, with a smile and a heavenly light around her.

"Mama ... " he whispered, collapsing into her embrace and letting her soft lullaby ease him into a deep sleep.

The harried preacher made his way through the crowded lobby, searching for the skilled surgeon. He was about to turn back and search outside, when he heard his name called. He turned to the judge, as the older man touched his sleeve.

"Josiah? What's wrong?" The former solicitor clearly saw the frantic look in the younger man's eyes.

"Orrin, you seen Doctor Smith?"

"He went to send a wire, why? Is Vin worse?"

"Yeah," he sighed, wincing as he rubbed his sore shoulder. "Ezra's back went out on him, he's on the floor in his room, he can't move and Nathan's missing."

"Missing? When? How?"

"From what J.D. said, Vin's reliving his family's murder, he's back in time. The only one he trusts is Chris. Nathan tore the room apart living out a nightmare, lashed out at Ezra, who ended up on the floor. Then he took off. I need to get Ezra off the floor without hurting his back anymore, he can't move. Slide him on a board and put the whole thing on the bed. Seems being on that hard surface, helps him somehow."

"Alright, I'll get a couple soldiers and take care of that. You find Smith and take him to Vin. Then we'll search the town for Mister Jackson."

"Okay," Josiah ducked outside, heading for the telegraph.

Chris was sitting in a chair next to Vin's bed. The pain in his head went far beyond where normal headaches end. His side was throbbing and he knew the burning eyes needed sleep. But there would be no rest tonight. He was positioned between Vin and Buck, his legs on the edge of Vin's bed. Buck's breathing wasn't any better and he was worried. A series of small, unintelligible moans took his gaze from Wilmington to Tanner. He pulled his legs down and stood up, bending over the tortured body. He had no more cloths and the water was warm. He hated to leave Vin, but the water was in the kitchen. He saw a bowler hat bobbing by the window and then the youth appeared.

"Where the Hell have you been!" Chris growled, then noticed the youth was alone. "Where's Nathan?"

"Gone."

"What do you mean gone?" Chris's eyes narrowed, only making his throbbing temples pulsate quicker.

"I'll explain in a minute," he held his hand out for the basin. He returned several minutes later, talking quickly. "I found Ezra on the floor in his room, it was all torn apart. He walked in on Nathan having a living nightmare of somekind. He shoved Erza, well ... I don't think he knew him ... anyway, Erza can't move. When Nathan 'woke up' and realized what he did, he bolted. Orrin got some men to move Ezra back on his bed. They got an army doctor to look at him. It's not serious, but he can't be moved. He gave Ezra something to make him sleep. When I left, some Red Cross nurse came in to keep an eye on him."

"Thanks," The tired leader took the cool water, laced with rubbing alcohol and set it on the table. "Sorry, Kid, didn't mean to take your head off ... "

"You call that hollering?" Dunne teased with a grin, knowing Chris's 'bear' came out when one of his family was hurting. "Josiah found Doctor Smith, he went to get his medical bag. He should be right over. Josiah and Orrin are searching all over town for Nathan. What are we gonna do when we find him? I mean, how do you fix that?"

"I'm not sure, J.D." Chris admitted, "But we'll do whatever it takes. He's been there for every one of us at one time or another, we owe him." He frowned, pulling Vin's top sheet off. "It's soaked ... "

"Hold on," Dunne disappeared and returned with new bedding. "Turn him towards you and hold him, I'll push the wet one over that way and lay down the dry one." This worked and in a few minutes time, Vin was resting on clean dry sheets and another clean one was pulled to his waist. They worked in tandem, each taking a one side of Tanner. As they finished as laid him back against the dry side of the pillows, two blue slits appeared.

"Vin?" Chris snapped his fingers and pointed to the water. In a flash, the cold mug was in his hand. "Here, I got some water." He knew by the unfocused glaze, Vin had no idea where he was. The brows furrowed, as sweat beaded on the wrinkled forehead. More moans escaped his parched lips and his head twisted. A sharp cry of pain sounded. "Easy, Vin, come on, open up, I got water for you." He spoke louder this time, close to Vin's ear and the head turned. The half-lidded eyes regarded him for a moment and the mouth opened. He eased the water down, getting the whole cup into the fevered man. Vin slumped then, temporarily sated. No sooner had he sat down, when Buck began to choke.

"Christ, where the hell is that doctor!" Chris growled, jumping up and hauling Buck over his arm. "Cough it out, Buck."

"..m'okay ... " Buck wheezed, gasping for breath. He didn't realize the deathgrip he had on Chris, until he heard the other man hiss. "Sorry ... " he pulled his hand back. "How's Vin?"

"Same." Larabee pulled Buck upright, adjusted the brace on his leg and inspected the flushed face. "You should eat, it might help that fever."

"I got chicken noodle soup in the back, fresh bread and some herbal tea." J.D. announced.

"Steak, rare and bloody, big potato, lots of butter," Buck coughed, 'Whiskey ... many ... many ... bottles."

"One bowl of soup, coming up!" J.D. grinned, "Chris, you look awful. You ought to take a hot bath and get changed. You got throw up, Buck crud and blood all over you." He announced. " ... and you stink pretty good."

"Buck crud?" The rogue turned smacking J.D., who grinned and left. Then he saw Chris and winced. The shirt was filthy, encrusted with vomit, blood and 'Buck crud'. His unshaven face was covered in sweat and grim. His hair was damp and sticking up. One eye had a shiner and his bandages were dirty. "He's right, Pard, you look like shit!" He paused, wrinkling his nose. " ... and you do smell pretty ripe."

"Kid's gettin' too Goddamn cocky!" the blond sighed, "You're in no position to be critical, Buck," Chris yawned, scratching his thigh. "I feel kinda itchy."

"Small wonder ... " Buck saw the door moving and the physician arrive. "The calvary's here ... "

Chris turned, relief pouring down his face. He moved aside to let Miles Smith between the two beds.

"Fill me in, Chris," the doctor pulled Vin's sheet down, taking the bandages off the leg. He listened thoughtfully, as Larabee filled him in. "Alright, let's get this leg cleaned and re-stitched. I'll redress his arm as well. Has he been drinking water?"

"Yeah, every time he wakes up. His head seems to be bothering him." Chris added.

"I don't doubt it, it's a very serious injury. Complications are quite common. For several weeks, he'll be prone to blackouts, memory loss, nausea, his vision might be effected ... any number of possibilities." He frowned, placing a hand under the victim's arm. "He's fever is dangerously high, that is our top priority. After I tend to his leg, I'll need some ice. We can pack burlap bags of it under him and around him. The hotel has an ample supply beneath the ground in the ice cellar."

"I'm on it," J.D. set a tray in front of Buck. He went to leave only to find his arm snagged.

"Thanks, John Daniel," Chris said quietly, for all the young man had been doing over the past week. "Seems to me you grew a few inches this week."

"This mean I'm not the 'kid' anymore?" the proud youth replied, beaming.

"Hell no, get your ass in gear," the blond grinned, ruffling the dark hair, "Kid."

"When you finish that, Buck, I want you under a steam tent." Smith ordered, hearing the awful wheezing. "I have an herbal pack in the kitchen, I left earlier. That should help. When you're done, you can have some tea and I'll rub you chest with some menthol balm."

"How 'bout we get ... one ... of ... of ... " Buck coughed and winced, " ... them pretty nurses to ... play ... with my ... chest."

"You can't keep a good scoundrel down," Larabee teased, smiling at the dopey grin the sick man wore.

"Actually, that's a very good idea, they're very skilled and I could use the help." He turned to Chris, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay,"

"No you're not and I'll repeat the question, I want an honest answer," the surgeon poured carbolic on the open wound, causing both of Vin's eyes to shoot open. Before Smith could utter a sound, a body moved in on the other side, one hand gripping the shoulder, pinning him to the bed, the other on the confused man's chin. He never said a word, but his presence alone seemed to calm Tanner, whose lips moved to speak. "Water ... while he's awake."

"Yeah," Chris fumbled, taking the cup from the doctor. "Drink up, Vin,"

"Gai ... Gai ... " Vin croaked, he didn't want anything, his stomach was churning. He didn't want to get sick, Teheno would get angry.

"Yes!" Chris countered, then sighed, "You got a high fever, you need the water. Try for me, okay?"

"Haa" his voice dropped, he felt the stinging in his leg, unaware that the surgeon was stitching him up. He parted his lips and kept his eyes glued to the black ones above. It didn't take long, and his stomach spasmed. He cried out, jerking his body as the bile rose. Tears burned as the pain of the rejected water came back over his broken ribs. Pain ... so much pain. Someone was holding him and he relaxed, knowing before the words that is was Teheno. He recognized the touch. Gasping in pain, he curled into the broad chest, mumbing his apology.

"Hey, take it easy, it's okay," Chris said gently, wiping Vin's face and neck.

"Here, Chris, try this," the doctor handed him a mug of warm tea. "It will help his stomach."

"Medicine, Vin, for your belly," he nudged the mouth, which was tucked against his abdomen.

"Gai ... Teheno ... " he issued weakly, not wanting that pain to return.

"For me?" Chris felt awful about that, he knew why Vin didn't want to drink. He'd suffered through broken ribs and coughing was no picnic. Throwing up was unbearable. It took several minutes, but the liquid diappeared. He eased the fevered body back then, catching the blinking eyes with his own. He cupped the chin, "You did good ... get some sleep. I'll be ... "

"Daiboo!" Vin hissed, seeing the stranger next to him. He forced his frail body the other way, hitting a muscled wall.

"No, he's a good man, Vin, a doctor, a healer. He's helping you."

"I'm Doctor Smith, Vin, and I'm glad to meet you." The physician knew about the delirium and had seen episodes like it before. He spoke in a gentle tone, and offered his open hand and a smile. The brows furrowed as the wary eyes regarded him. Then a hand came up and he took it. "Your arm is burned and I'd like to check it. Would that be okay?"

"Haa," Vin agreed, as long as he could feel Teheno behind him. As the medicine took effect, his eyes grew heavy. He watched through half-mast lids, as the gentle hands put a cold cream on his burning skin. It felt good and it sighed; it took the pain away! " ... aisheN ... " he sputtered, sighing again and tapping the stranger's arm. " ... aisheN ... Doc ... tor ... "

"Uh ... " Smith looked at Chris who mouthed the word 'Thank you' and nodded. "You're quite welcome, Vin. Would you like some soup?"

"Haa ... " Vin decided, as he was straightened in the bed. He sniffed, wrinking his nose and turning to Teheno, waving his hand in front of his face. Teheno smelled like Buffalo chips. This motion got a laugh from Buck, so much so, he began to cough.

"Everybody's a critic." Chris grimaced, as the doctor returned.

"Chris, I had a good reason to ask you how you felt. When we pack him on ice, he's gonna fight. I'm gonna need you." He gave the determined leader the cup. Chris held it to Vin's lips and watched carefully, as the liquid disappeared. They both relaxed a little, when the young man sipped it carefully, moaning as the flavored broth went in easy.

" ... tsaangesunga ... " Vin groaned, sipping the broth again.

"Good booze?" Chris grinned and saw the head bob.

"Haa!" Vin enthused, blinking hard. "Te ... he..no ... " he slurred.

"Sleep," Chris said quietly, taking the empty mug. He tipped Vin's head back against the pillow. The mouth parted slightly, as the fevered man slept. "What can I do?"

"Get a hot bath, a hot meal and let me check you wounds. Then you get a short nap. It'll take a while for his body temperature to adjust. You rest until then, agreed?. I need you strong. Moreover, I need him to see you, you are the one he hears."

"Agreed," Chris rose, "I'll put that water on to boil for Buck's croup tent, then I'll go."

The winter wind blew through the camp, sending shivers down his spine. His feet were numb, the cardboard soles worn through. He trudged through ice and slush, trying to ignore the hands that tugged at his legs. He kept his numb fingers wrapped around the stretcher handles, he didn't see the eyes on him or hear the feeble plea of the dying. At least he thought he didn't. They couldn't be helped, save the ones that could be ... that was what they were told.

"Please ... help ... please ... God it hurts ... medic ... medic ... please ... "

"No! I can't do nuthin' ... " he screamed, "leave me alone ... "

He sat up in a hurry, panting and unnerved. His body trembled from fear and cold. The sun was going down and the air near the river was cold. He was bare chested, covered in sweat and very sick. He crawled to the river, dousing his face and drinking. He saw his shirt nearby and pulled it on, before gathering wood for a fire. As the flames rose, he thought on the bizaare episodes in town. Blackouts for no reason, hearing voices that didn't exist, see dead folks where there were none. He saw the eyes then, they haunted him. Josiah's compassionate blue eyes, Vin's fevered sky eyes, Buck's struggling navy eyes and worst of all, Ezra's terrified green ones. What if he'd been digging a bullet out when a spell came? He could have killed one of them.

He sighed, feeling as if an elephant was sitting on his chest. He gazed at the setting sun, burning a hole in the horizon. He felt as if those firey rays were encompassing him. He had too many questions and no answers. He picked up the half empty bottle and took a long draw, flinching as the burning liquid scorched his stomach. His dark eyes regarded the liquid swirling in the bottle. The wind picked up and he shivered, taking another drink. The voices carried on the wind, calling to him, mocking him. He tried to hide, covering his ears and curling up, but they found him. Begging, pleading for mercy, bloody hands rising up, crimson spilling through their dying lips.

"No ... no ... " he cried out, rolling to his knees. He crossed his arms over his chest and took his soulful, brown eyes to the pink and orange sky. "Lord, hear my prayer ... "

Chris eased his lean, battered body into the steaming hot water. He groaned in pleasure as the heat caressed every inch of his flesh. He rested his head for a moment, before using the scrub brush and a new bar of Pears soap. He scrubbed every bit of grime and filth, from his head to his toes, using his good arm. He eased back then, resting his eyes. Movement outside brought his hand to his gun and his keen eyes to the window. He picked up the soap and heaved it at the door, satisfied when the body passed by, stopped.

"You find him?" He asked, when Josiah appeared next to the tub.

"Nope," the preacher replied, slumping a bit. "We looked everywhere. How's Vin? I sent Orrin over there."

"His fever riding high," Chris eased back, feeling the heat stroking him, "The doctor's gonna pack him in ice. He thinks it could get dicey later. Buck's not good either, his lungs are a mess." He paused, wondering if Josiah heard him. He knew how close he was to the missing man and how worried he was. "He'll be back."

"Will he?"

"He will, despite what's happening to him, he's got a healer's heart. He won't desert Vin or Buck."

"I need to find him, Chris." Sanchez sighed, "Before he disappears into those nightmares forever."

"Too dark to head out now ... " Larabee rose and took the large towel offered. "He's not far, hes' hurt and confused, but he's not crazy. We'll go at first light. We'll bring him home, make the circle complete again."

"How do you feel?"

"Wet!" Buck coughed, as the doctor removed the small tent over his bed. He was dripping wet, the invasion of steam helped. He felt movement in his chest, where there was none before. He'd coughed up a ton of crud. He felt lightheaded and a little dizzy, but better.

"I think a bath and rubdown will remedy that." He dried the excess moisture off and made the infirmed man sit up. He took a stethescope to his back, listening to the lungs. "That sounds much better. I'd like you take some more soup and tea."

"Okay," Buck rested his aching head, he saw Vin was raised up, courtesy of the bags of ice under him and packed on his chest and leg. He saw a blanketed pair of legs beyond that as well. "You got Vin all iced up."

"Yes, Chris is sleeping. It will be a few hours before Vin reacts. That's when I'll need him. Josiah is staying with Ezra and young Mister Dunne is dining with the judge. He'll be back shortly." He strode to the kitchen door.

"Hey, Doc," Buck called out, thinking back to the endless days and nights this man had endured. " ... thanks, you've been great through all of this." The warm smile he received in return was felt deep. He took his eyes around the room, heard the faint piano music in the background as darkness settled onto the bustling town. Then he noticed a pair of woeful blue eyes staring at him.

"Hey, Vin!" He reacted normally, forgetting for a moment that this was not the man he knew. The eyes blinked, the body shivered and a long, painful sigh escaped the forlorn lips. He looked so sad. Buck frowned, watching the fevered eyes darting around. He smiled then, lowering his voice to a rich, caring tone. "He's sleeping right next to you, he's okay, just wore out, see?" He pointed, "Go on ... look."

Vin heard the white man's words and turned slightly, crying out as the fire in his head erupted. Teheno was indeed, resting. Satisifed his brother was safe and closeby, he turned back to the man with the tickling voice. That is what it felt like, when this man spoke, it tickled his insides. He liked the smile and how it felt when the words came out. He stared hard at the face, as it was a little blurry. He saw the bruises on the man's body and the strange box around his bandaged leg.

"Gizhaa?"

"Huh?" Buck strained, barely able to hear the weak voice. He followed Vin's finger, which was pointing to his leg. "Oh," he relaxed, "Hell, Son, that ain't nothin' for you to fret about, old Bucklin's been through a lot worse. Don't you worry, you're gonna be okay, the ... "

"Buck ... lin?" Vin repeated, cocking his head. "Buck ... lin ... "

"Yeah," Buck grinned, hoping that small light he saw in Vin's eyes was a spark of recognition.

Why did that word tickle his heart? He did not know this man. Yet the warm voice, the kind eyes and the wide smile made him feel good, like when he drank hot cocoa by the fire. He thought on Teheno's words. Friend. That is what his brother said of this man. Teheno would not lie; this meant he was his friend too.

" ... hainji ... " Vin decided, giving his new friend a shy smile. " ... Buck ... lin ... hainji ... " he grinned, tapping his heart with a closed fist.

"Aw, hell." Buck whispered, feeling like a firecracker exploded inside. He didn't need an interpreter for that. He mimicked the motion, putting his closed fist over his own heart. " ... hainji ... Vin ... "

"Haa!" Vin nodded, nearly beaming. "Haa ... Buck ... lin ... "

"That's my name, Son, don't wear it out!" He teased, watching the heavy eyes fighting hard to stay open. The flushed face was damp and the long hair looked like rat tails. But to Buck, he looked like a million dollars. "Get some sleep, now. When you wake up, Chr ... uh ... Teheno will be waiting for you."

"Maiku," Vin nodded, shutting his eyes, then peeling one open. "Bucklin ... AishenN ... "

"You're welcome," he said gently, with a broad smile, watching carefully until the tension left the Texan's face and he slept.

Part Eleven

It seemed he'd just eased his weary body onto the bunk, when a hand shook him. He blinked in the near darkness, until his eyes adjusted to the light. He licked his dry lips, sat up and yawned, shaking the heavy traces of sleep from his body.

"Here, Chris."

The voice was followed by a cold cloth pressed to his hand. He wiped his face and neck, before taking the second item. After draining the cold water, he took the mug across the room, spotting a coffee pot. He poured a shot of whiskey in the mug, before filling it with the steaming, bitter liquid. Sipping carefully, he made his way between the two occupied beds. His pale eyes flicked in relief to Buck Wilmington, who was breathing almost normally.

"Seems better," he commented, turning his eyes to the weary profile of Miles Smith.

"He is, his congestion finally is breaking up."

"What time is it?" Larabee asked, sipping his coffee and moving closer to where Vin Tanner's slim body trembled.

"Almost one a.m."

"You should have woken me sooner," he rested the cup on the narrow wooden table.

"You needed the rest," the doctor paused, looking closely at the blond man, "You look much better." He paused, as once again, the patient's blue eyes hot open. The confused gaze didn't linger on anything. The pale lips parted and he mumbled, moving his body weakly and crying out.

"When'd this start?" Chris asked, leaning over and frowning as Vin continued to mutter and twist.

"The last ten minutes, he began coming around," the doctor replied. "The heat of his body is fighting with the packed ice. With any luck, we'll be able to chase his fever by daybreak."

"But..." the keen green eyes didn't miss the pause in the doctor's actions.

"But, that is only one small victory in what may be a long battle. Fighting a fever this high, in a weakened condition..."

"He'll pull through," Chris interrupted, lifting Vin's wet head. His voice cut through the delirium. The body ceased trembling and the rigid muscles relaxed under his touch. The eyes cracked open and the pale lips moved.

"...heno..." Vin croaked, trying to see the blurry face. Why were they under water? It was too cold to swim today and he felt so very sick. "...gizhaa...Gai...Gai..." he pleaded, fighting weakly against the strong hands.

"I know you're sick," Chris replied, hauling Vin up higher and nudging the slack lips. "Open up, I got some water for you." The muddled eyes narrowed and the lips opened, accepting the liquid.

"...aisheN..." Sated, the injured man rested.

"There's some soup on the stove, you better eat," the physican noted, "It's going to be a long night."

And long it was, with both men fighting side by side, until the fire died. Battling the thrashing limbs, harsh cries of delusional anger and heated confrontations with hallucinatory figures took it's toll, especially on the worried blond. It was his voice alone that cut through the lost world Vin was trapped in. By the time Dawn made her presence known, a ravishing figure in rose and gold, the two men were exhausted.

"Thanks," Miles nodded to the two hands from the livery, who'd toted the last of the burlap sacks away. Vin was now resting in a dry bed, with clean sheets above and below his bruised body. He still had a mild fever, but the worst of it was over. "He's exhausted, he'll sleep for most of the day."

"I almost envy him," Chris quipped with a weary smile. "Listen, Doc, you went the extra mile for Vin, I'm beholdin'."

"You're quite welcome." He smiled back, stretching and rubbing his back. "It's quite a powerful feeling, when you see someone so very ill, turn the corner. I can tell you, honestly, I never tire of it."

"You got balls, Doc," Chris complimented, shaking his head. He was still sitting next to Vin, surprised that an indentation from the wooden bed frame wasn't permantly marking his backside. "I saw what you did on that train. Not many men have courage like that..." he noted of the amputation of limbs, in order to free trapped passengers. "..or skill. You're a helluva surgeon."

"Thank you, Chris," Miles spoke, then turned as the door opened.

"Good Morning, Doctor Smith," J.D. burst into the room. "Hey, Chris! You're up. I stopped by a few times earlier last night, but you were out cold. How's Vin? The Judge wants to see you if you're up, Chris, but if you're not, I can tell him..."

"Kid?" Chris winced, holding both hands up defensively against the bullet like precision of the spillage of words.

"Sorry," the youth headed for the spot between Buck and Vin. "Hey, Buck's not making any noise, that's good right?"

"He's much better," the doctor noted, "But caution will be taken...his lungs are still weak." He saw the young man's hazel eyes turn to his other friend.

"He don't look so good..."

"Neither would you if you kicked the shit out of the devil all night." Chris defended of his pale friend, who rested almost too still.

"I didn't mean..."

"His fever broke a little while ago. We bathed him and changed him, he should sleep all day. He's very weak and not nearly out of the woods, but I feel he's turned the corner," Smith predicted. "Speaking of which, I think I'll get some breakfast. I'm in room fourteen at the hotel, if you need me."

"Get some sleep, Doc, you earned it. We got it covered," Chris stood, shook the man's hand and clapped his back. "Thank you."

"You did," he returned with a strong grip, "and it's my pleasure. J.D., he won't rouse for hours. When he does, get liquids in him, hot and cold."

"Okay, Buck too?"

"I'm still waitin' for a three inch thick steak with all the trimmings..." a voice croaked, "...you don't start pleasin' your customers, you're gonna lose that job."

"Hey Buck!" Dunne greeted warmly, helping his friend to sit up. "You look almost human. You're wheezin' so bad. The doctor says you gotta stay put, that means you gotta listen to me."

"You're dreamin', Kid," Wilmington winced, rubbing his leg. He watched the youth slip out of the door, to get the morning meal. "Hey Doc, thanks..." he extended his hand, shaking the others. "If I keep this leg still, in this brace, can I..."

"No, you stay in that bed," the physician iterrupted. "I'm sending a nurse over to bath you, help you change. Coupled with a full breakfast, you should begin to feel stronger. But your lungs are still weak and if you push to much, you'll end up back to square one. Understood?

"A nurse?" the injured man grinned, with a wink to Larabee, who rolled his eyes.

"Selective hearing," Chris muttered, handing Buck a cup of coffee.

"You know, I do feel real weak," he feigned in a timid voice.

"You're impossible, Buck," the blond chaffed, cuffing Wilmington's good leg. It was good to see that old spirit rising again.

"I see the Wilmington charm is finally returning to standard," a new voice saluted.

"Hey Judge," Buck nodded as Orrin Travis entered the room.

"Chris, the President is having a breakfast meeting, he'd like to speak with you." Travis noted.

The doctor departed, slipping by the pensive territorial lawkeeper. J.D. hauled a huge tray of food from the boarding house. Eggs, hotcakes, sausages, ham and biscuits were on the table. Josiah followed him inside, pausing by Buck's bed.

"You're lookin' better," he noted, frowning as he saw Vin's corpse-like pose. "How's Brother Vin?"

"Fever broke," Chris said, adjusting Vin's blanket. "but he's got a long way to go. "

"Chris?" Travis repeated, waiting.

"That man survived the worst war in United States history and got himself elected to the highest office in the land," Larabee paused, sitting between Buck and Vin, making his stand clear. "Seems to me he ought to be able to figure out how to cross a street."

The Judge absorbed the words slowly, digesting them carefully as he kept his eyes trained on the stormy green ones.

"I think you should reconsider, the General is preparing the final report. They'd like your input," Travis made his position clear.

"Talk sense, Orrin," Chris shot back, "They don't give a rat's ass what I think. I gave my 'imput' at that meeting back in town before we left. I was being honest," he paused, barely controlling the livid rage in his eyes, "They lied and it damn near cost me three of my men." He huffed in anger, "no, make that four, I got a man missing, a damn good man, driven out of town by nightmares no human being should suffer with. That's what the fuckin' army did for me." He turned his back then, every muscle rippling through the shirt in vexed anger.

"Very well," he sighed, nodding to the others and departing.

For a few moments, no one spoke, until Buck's warm voice broke the silence.

"You know, this could get interesting," Wilmington cocked his head, peeking mischievously at his oldest friend. "We never pissed off the White House before."

The soft chuckling was followed by the leader addressing the eldest, "Eat up, Josiah. I want to get moving. I want to be here when Vin wakes up."

"No sign of Nate?" Buck didn't hide his concern, nodding to J.D., when the youth sat a wooden tray with small legs over his lap. It held a hearty plate of food and a small jug of juice. "Thanks, Kid."

"No," Josiah slumped, toying with his hotcakes.

"You'll find him, Josiah, I know you will." J.D. predicted, then frowned, "What are we gonna say to him? How do we fix that kind of pain?"

"You got two hands, don't you," Buck said to the youth, in an annoyed tone. He saw the hazel eyes scowl and continued. "Seems to me that man has given his heart and soul to each of us, 'bout time he got paid back. We'll handle it, no matter what it takes."

Chris turned his head then, noting how easily the words, and more importantly, the conviction behind them, slid from Buck's heart, courtesy of his lips. Their eyes met, the dark blue ones softened a bit, when the blond lifted his cup in a sign of salute. They exchanged a pair of weary smiles and continued to eat.

"Where will you look?" J.D. asked meekly.

"I got a good idea where he is," Chris said, reluctantly leaving Vin's side. "Come Josiah, let's ride."

Voices drifted around him, interrupting his deep sleep. Reluntantly, he fought through the blanket of slumber, as he felt his body probed. He recognized the deeper voice, it was Doctor Smith, the fine surgeon who tended to Buck.

"After the bath, a full massage of heated herbal therapy. Then we'll see if we can't get him up and moving later."

"...b...b...ath..." Ezra sighed, feeling the sheet pulled down. The hot soapy water was laid to his flesh with firm, gentle strokes. The talented fingers worked their way up his legs, across his middle and over his chest and neck. Delicate movement on his face, before a warm cloth took the soap away. Then he was carefully dried off and two sets of strong hands, rolled him over onto his belly.

"...di...dn't... feel... a... th..thing..." he muttered, his heavy eyes still not opening.

"That's because you are full of laudenum." Smith smiled down at his groggy patient. He gave the bare shoulder a light tug, "I'll leave you in the good hands of your nurse. I'll be back later, Mister Standish."

"I am... fore...ver... in... your... debt... sir..." Ezra managed, groaning in pleausre as the ministrations continued. After the bathing action was repeated, with precise movements up the back of his torso to his neck, a hot balm was worked into his back.

"Heavenly..." He murmured, then a vision appeared in his mind's eye. A beautiful nurse who so adeptly tended to him the day before. A woman he intended to share a meal and some expensive wine with. "I am sorry for... breaking... our engagment... last evening..."

"I think you have me confused with someone else." The strange voice replied.

"Excuse me?" Ezra's muddled mind began to clear a little and he opened his eyes. He was flat on a blanketed board over the bed. His eyes widened when the hand he saw, full of ointment, was wrinkled with age. "Abby?" He questioned of the missing angel, suddenly feeling his nakedness a little too clearly.

"No, I'm Cornelia Hoffendacken," the nurse replied, "You may address me as Miss Hoffendacken," she assessed, always a professional. "If you are referring to Miss Bauer, she is tending to a friend of yours, a Mister Wilmington. It seems he's very weak and fevered, he needs a thorough bath and changing."

"Hoff...en... who..." Ezra panicked, as the words settled in. "Buck..." he hissed, "was born just to torment me, I'd wager on it..." His heart sank as the wizened up face appeared before his pained eyes, complete with jowls boasting hairy warts. "Good Lord, you've escaped the Brothers Grimm !" he blurted without thinking, of the authors who crafted witches in fairy tales.

"...and your manners could use a thorough scrubbing as well," she huffed, gathering up some of the woodsy scented lotion from the bottom of the hot pot. It's heat simmering in her right hand. She eyed his exposed backside and clapped her free hand on the rosy left cheek, causing him to yelp and jump.

"That's not... part... of the... treatment... my back..." Ezra sputtered, his face flaming as the hot ointment was unmercifully applied to his buttocks. "That's much too... hot!" He yelped.

"You're behaving like a spoiled child," She pushed his thighs apart and gathered up more hot balm. "The doctor said to apply this liberally," She worked both hands up to the interior of his thighs. "Doctor knows best."

"You're doing this on purpose... I intend to make sure the prop..." He hissed as her fingers roamed north. "..er... authorities are made aware of..." He snarled then, "Unhand me... that's not part of..."

"As soon as the ointment works and your muscles relax," she cut his protest off, wiping her hands, and pulling the sheet up to his waist. "We'll take care of your other business," she moved the elongated metal container used to aid immobilized patients when they needed to urinate. She made sure he could see it clearly and enjoyed the look of horror on his face. "You were given liquids, hot and cold, all night. What goes in, must come out," she paused, picked up her newspaper and smilled evilly, causing Ezra's hair to stand up more defiantely that the one's sprouting from her moles. "...one way or the other..." she snuck a glance to his covered backside.

"I'd sooner burst," he hissed, his anger rising as his humiliation did, "Buck you'll die for this...I'll see to it..." he groaned as the pressure in his bladder started to build.

The herbal tea that accompanied his breakfast left his snoozing peacefully. He shivered and furrowed his brows, when the sheet was pulled back and cold air roamed over his naked chest.

"What are you doing, Kid? I..." he peeled an eye open and nearly melted. "...think I died and went to heaven. Darlin' if I knew that angels looked that fine, I'd have given myself over long ago. Buck Wilmington, at your service," he offered with a killer smile.

"I'm Abigail Bauer," she smiled, "Abby. Doctor Smith said you needed a good bath and some clean clothes. I've got the water just right," she eyed the handsome man and smiled, pulling the sheet down. "hot and sudsy..." she purred picking a cloth up and wringing it out. "I've been told I have very good hands." She sat on the edge of the bed and slid her hand behind his neck raising him up.

"I can see..." Buck sighed as the cloth wiped his face and neck. "...feel that. You know I have always admired nurses. Angels of mercy, that's what your are, unselfishly giving of yourself, using your special talents to comfort the weak."

"Are you weak, Mister Wilmington?" She laid him back down, working the suds into the senstive areas of his chest.

"...as a newborn babe..." Buck groaned as the wonderful bath continued. "You can call me Buck." He paused, his breath coming in pants. "..hell...you can call me anything you want."

"Your breathing is labored," she wrung out a clean cloth, her slim hand on his calf. "Once I get you rinsed off and dried properly, maybe I'll give you an herbal lung treament." She turned him carefully then, cleansing his back.

"I love... lung... treatments." Buck groaned, then grinned rakishly, "I have some treatments of my own I could share."

"Really?" Abby paused, lifting him up and helping him to bend forward.

"Lip therapy," the rogue offered, "My expertise is well known."

"Not to me," she pouted, lathering up his hair and running her fingers through it.

"Well now, we'll have to remedy that," Buck offered, lifting her free hand and kissing the fingers, before nuzzling his lips into the palm.

"You always this shy?" She teased, feeling her face flush as his mustache tickled her skin. She used a cup to rinse his hair, then dried his head and back. "Now, let's get you dressed."

"Seems that would be a waste of time," Buck grinned devilishly, gaining a laugh.

"Oh, I like you, Buck Wilmington!" She exuded, standing and drying her hands. It was then she noticed his face change. The bold scoundrel look was gone, in it's place a face full of concern and warmth, almost deep affection. She pursed her brows and turned, as he spoke.

"Hey, Vin!" Buck sat up, leaning over his bed. "You sure gave us a scare. The doctor chased your fever away." He saw the blue eyes widened and stare at the nurse. "Oh, this here is Abby, the doctor sent her over."

"Hello, Vin," she smiled, moving to get a cup of water of him. She approached the bed, only to have him shrink back, trying to push through the bottom of the mattress.

"Gai... gai..." Vin gasped, wide eyes roaming the room. "Teheno... Teheno..." he called out, the empty echo chilling him. "Buck...lin..." he whispered. "hagani naakwa?" What happened to his brother?

"Aw, hell," Buck grimaced, pained by Vin's frightened face. "Vin, look at me, she won't hurt you. She's a friend, understand. She's just gonna give you a drink of water. Teheno is... uh... getting something to eat." Buck offered and saw the clever tracker's mind working. The solemn face went from his own to Abby's. He could tell the nurse didn't know what to make of Vin, but she wasn't frightened.

"I'm Abby, Vin," she moved closer, recalling in her notes a head injury and high fever. "I'd like to be your friend, okay?"

Vin scowled and eyed the woman. He lifted his nose and sniffed, she smelled good. He stared at her eyes and decided he liked her. He turned to Buck who was nodding to him.

"It's okay, Vin," the older man reassured, and sighed, when Vin relaxed and lost the deathgrip he had on the sheet.

"Can I give you some water?" Abby asked, not wanting to push.

"Maiku," Vin nodded, trembling a bit as the soft hands held his neck. She smelled like flowers in the springtime. "AisheN..." he panted, his heart hammering. He smiled up at her then, feeling safe.

"How about some chicken broth?" Abby inquired, watching the blue eyes widen. She felt him trembling and saw him flush, when she wiped the fever from his face.

"Vin sure does blush pretty, don't he?" Buck grinned, knowing that this thirteen year old boy lost in a man's body was responding to a female touch.

"Yes, he does," she complimented, easing the hair from his face. "He's very sweet."

"Sweet?" Buck laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, he'd love that..." he laughed again. He watched for several minutes as she talked softly to Vin, spooning the broth in his mouth and then stroking his face until he fell asleep. She pulled the sheet up, before turning back to her other patient.

"Now where were we?" She frowned, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Right here," Buck leaned in, tipping her face and kissing her. "You are special, Lady. He's lost right now, hurt bad, confused. He's got a whole lot of pain inside, and you helped take some of that away. Thank you."

"I don't think I heard you," she leaned in to accept another kiss, which sent a ripple of pleasure up her spine. She sighed then, pulling back and cupping his face. "I think," she decided, pushing him back and pulling the sheet up. "we'll have to investigate all your hidden talents."

"I like the way you think," Buck yawned, "Any of that soup left?" He sat up and leaned back into the pillows, smiling at the beautiful face over the steaming liquid. As she spooned the tasty soup into his mouth, he wondered if Ezra was enjoying the Red Cross as much as he was.

While Dawn shed her cape and the full effect of her golden gown became known, the two riders found what they sought. The sun was high in the sky. The campfire was smoldering, the figure sleeping beside it was more ashen than the cinders scattered about. They secured the horses, Chris got additional wood and stoked the fire. Josiah went towards Nathan, seeking to take the pained expression away. Even in sleep, the healer's features were troubled. A hand caught his good arm, halting him.

"Looks like Vin wasn't the only one wrestling with the devil last night," Chris commented, painfully taking in the ashen, creased face of Nathan Jackson. "Let him sleep a little more. We'll get some lunch started, he needs to eat."

"It might not stay put," the preacher replied, picking up the empty liquor bottle.

"Eggs and biscuits ought to stay down," the leader unpacked the burlap bag tied to his pommel. "J.D. took care of everything. I'll start some coffee, you sit down and rest that shoulder."

There were no more nightmares or perhaps even in his subconscious state, he'd become immune to the pitchforks. He had no desire to leave the gray, murky world he lingered in. There was no pain here, no bloody lips screaming at him, no severed limbs tripping his feet. There was nothing here...nothing at all. A loud rumble interrupted his painless void. It was accompained by the smell of meat. He inhaled, turned in his sleep and tried to find the gray place. The smells increased, eggs and coffee joined the mix and the pungent aroma of onions. The rumble was inside, his stomach was churning. It rose up and he jerked, curling his body up and getting to his knees.

"Ahhhh!" He cried out, trying to manuever through the cobwebs on the pounding anvils in his head. His jangled limbs couldn't function on the spinning, twirling terrain. Two arms lifted him and shoved him ahead towards the river. They stayed with him as he tossed up the bile and liquor on the bank. One hand was clamped on his shoulder the whole time. Then as he ducked his hot face under the cold water, another hand joined in, holding onto him. As he rinsed and then swallowed a good part of the water, his eyes cleared, the world righted again and he saw black pants and boots, his eyes locked onto the silver spurs. Gasping he sat back on the bank, drawing his knees up. He rested his face on his crossed arms, panting and coughing heavily. Finally, he lifted his head, trying to see through the wall of fire behind his eyes. Water dripped from his face and chin and he took the cloth offered. As he wiped his face, he wished he could go deeper wiping the shame from his soul. He opened his mouth, looked up at the man, his own eyes full of solace. This was the stranger who saved his life on a dusty street and turned into more than a friend. Yet, he couldn't utter one word. He extended his arms, watching the uncontrollable trembling and fisted his hands in despair.

"I'm sorry," he offered, despair falling from his eyes and lips.

"Hell, Nathan, you haven't even tasted it yet."

He sighed, shook his head and saw the hand appear in front of his dark, eyes, rimmed with red. It bore no glove, the trademark black leather was not evident. It was a pink palm, full of calouses and hope. Hope. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Then he took a deeper one, breathing in the sweet air that drifted off the churning water. Was this the answer he'd asked for? Was God's reply contained in the lines on the peach-tinted fingers inches from his torment? He studied the hand hard for several minutes, it never wavered. The gauntlet was dangled in front of him; he felt the full weight on his shoulders. If he accepted, he couldn't turn back. He'd have to purge his soul and bare it before them. He took a huge gulp of air, hoping to calm his jangled nerves and he latched onto that hand. He held on for all it was worth, tears burned in his dark eyes as he felt the power of pink on brown. It shot through him, like a lightning bolt and before he could protest, he was hauled to his feet.

"Chris... I... I..." He was gulping air again, dizzy from the after effects of the alcohol and breathless from the power of the man who stood before him. His legs buckled and he felt faint. He didn't protest the brief embrace, he let out a single sob and let himself be led back to the fire.

Chris's own feelings were shaken to the core. He was a very physical man. His whole persona screamed of corporeal power; a well-honed, menacing, muscled sirocco. Solving problems to him meant using all of his senses; the smell of gunpowder, the feel of the leather holster riding his slim hips, the taste of blood leaving his lip, the grit in his eyes when he faced down an advesary and the sound of thundering hooves in his ears. Harder, something he couldn't touch or hold onto with his hands, was the fragile soul of the man before him. How do heal a shattered heart and find a lost soul? He knew only one way. He sat the broken man next to the preacher, gave one final tug to the downcast shoulders and moved away.

While he poured two cups of coffee and one peppermint tea, he heard Josiah speaking. He lingered, letting the older man have a few minutes alone. Nathan and Josiah were good friends and seeing the ex-slave this broken, was hard on him.

"It's good to see you, Brother," Josiah broke the uncomfortable silence. Like Chris, he saw such pain and torment in the man before him, it hurt him deeply.

"Is it?" Nate replied, pulling his knees up and encircling them with his arms. "...ain't a very pretty picture."

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Sanchez chided lightly, "and from where I'm sitting, I'm looking at clear eyes that don't see the color of a man's skin. There's a proud heart without corruption and gentle soul whose cleansing spirit inspires me every day, despite the awful cross the body has been forced to bear at times." He gripped the back of Nathan's neck and his voice tightened, "...and that, brother, is a b-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l thing," he complimented, watching the other man fight for composure. "Go on and let it out, you're with family."

"Hell," Nathan choked, unable to breathe over the lump that Josiah's words caused, "I ain't been this worked up since my Grandmother passed."

"Was she as pretty as us?" The preacher said with a straight face, that earned a smile and a glimmer of hope.

"She was beautiful," Nathan shot back.

"Guess you don't look much like her, huh?" Chris offered with a smile and a cup of tea. "It should help your stomach. When you're up to it, there's ham, eggs, and biscuits."

"Thanks," the humbled man muttered, sipping the medicinal tea. Then he frowned and eyed Chris Larabee sharply. "Where's yuh sling?"

"In the trash where it belongs," the man in black remarked, sitting on a log. "I'm fine... well... better anyhow."

"Vin?" the healer choked, washing his face with his free hand. "God... I should have asked right off..."

"He's holding his own," Josiah said, "Fever broke last night. Buck's lungs are improving and Ezra's on the mend too." He saw the other man's face darken in shame as he tried to turn away. "Get your head up, Nathan Jackson!" he boomed, his voice like raging thunder.

"Yuh weren't there... yuh don't know what I done t'him..."

"You were having a nightmare and he tried to help. It was an accident," Chris commented, sipping his coffee. "That's how Ezra told it, he's worried about you. We all are."

"I don't know how... where... t'start..." he whispered, rocking slightly and staring at the fire.

"From the beginning," Chris laid out, "You take all the time you need. We not going anywhere."

"At first they was just dreams...bad ones...started a few days after the accident." Nate recalled, sipping his tea and glad for Josiah's hand on his neck. "Then they came t'life...like I was awake on the street and I saw... them..."

"Saw what?" Chris pushed, "Spill it Nathan, all of it, every gory detail."

"Legs, arms, blood, I can't walk there's so many of 'em," he pained, wrapping his arms around his chest and rocking again. His eyes went over the river to where the twisted metal winked at him boldly. They're grabbin' at my legs, pleadin' for help. Some of...of..." he faltered, his eyes filling with burning absolution, "...they got no eyes...just sockets...hands reachin' up...mockin' me..." He shoved off then, needing to move. He paced the camp, running his hand over his hair and down his neck. His hot body trembled and icy fingers pricked at his tender skin, right through to this soul. "...I can't... help... any... I tried... they... don't... listen... they're dead... not dead... dyin'... I can't do... a... a... damn... thing... Sweet Jesus, I can smell them burnin'..." He choked, eyes full.

Josiah started to stand, to go to this broken brother, but Chris stopped him with one strong hand and a shake of his blond head.

"Not yet," he whispered.

"I... I'm... seein'... 'em... when I'm ... awake..." he faltered, "they... won't leave... me... alone... grabbin' at m'legs... blood pourin' from they're mouth... right in the street..." He punched the air with both fists, raging now, angry and hot. "I seen how them folks in town looked at me... like I'm crazy... hell, maybe I am."

"If you're crazy, Nathan, then there's not much hope for the rest of us," Josiah sighed.

"All of it, Nathan, it's been festering since the war," Chris offered, playing a trump card dangerously.

"The war?" the stunned ex-medic turned sharply to the gunslinger, who eased to his feet. "This ain't about the war!" He hissed angrily, baring his teeth. "That's a long time passed, none of yuh'r goddamn business."

"Is it?" Chris shook his head, moving closer. "I was with you when we hit that wreckage, Nathan. There wasn't anybody tugging on your pants or calling for help. Not in this battlefield anyway." He moved closer yet, just a half a foot behind the tense, angry muscles rippling through brown cloth. "You had to leave them behind, didn't you? You were taught to pick up the ones who you could save. There wasn't time to stop for the poor bastards whose guts were sliding through their fingers..."

"Shut up!" Nathan roared, spinning and sending a right hook that leveled the man who touched the flame inside. He lunged at Josiah then, needing to strike out... to vent the uncontrollable anger that roared to life.

"I only got one arm," the preacher protested, staring at the heaving chest and eyes shooting fire. "...but I can hurt you, Nathan." He eyed the blond man, who was rolling over. "You okay, Chris?"

"Will... be..." the leader coughed out a wad of blood, "...as soon as these fuckin' stars stop twirlin' in front of my eyes. Dammit..." he shook his head, trying to clear it. He stood on shaky legs, swiped the blood running from his lip and staggered over to where Nathan stood. "If that's what it takes," he offered of the purging, "let's go..." he shoved the angry man's shoulder, prepared to fight.

"Stay the hell outta my head!" Nathan swung, narrowly missing Chris's wounded side. "It ain't none of yuh business."

"The hell it isn't!" Chris snarled, in one deft move, snagging both the combatant's arms from behind and pinning him to a tree. He held on, despite the power the taller man held and the shots of pain it caused his healing shoulder and side. "It became my business the day those fuckers tried to lynch you. "

"It became our business...when we rode out to that Indian Village and it's been our business every day since." Josiah finished, walking behind Chris and resting a hand on the rippling muscles in Jackon's back.

"Let go..." Nathan struggled.

"No!" Chris shot back. "You can't shake me, Nathan. Sunshine or stormy skies, we're in this together. One hurts, we all hurt. Now spit it out..." he hissed, baring his teeth. "You left them dying in those bloody fields, men and boys, blood and broken..."

"Dyin' souls reaching out for help...someone to take the agony away..." Josiah continued, feeling the tension letting up.

"You took the wounded you could save on a stretcher through the pile of arms and legs, some of them grabbing on to your legs." Chris pushed, watching the anger in the dark-skinned face melt into desperate agony.

"Yes! I left 'em t' die alone! Is that what yuh want t'hear?" the tormented soul roared, shoving both of his purgers away. He only made it a few feet and stopped, his limbs tingling and numb. "I left... 'em... they were dyin'... no man wants... t'die alone... some of 'em were boys... twelve... fourteen... cryin' for their mama... God... them eyes were on me... blood comin' from 'em... pleadin' me t'help. Sometimes, they was all blown apart..." He sobbed, "I had to kick some of 'em... to get... past... God what have I done..." He sank to his knees and wept, tears full of bittersweet rage poured forth, stronger for the wait. They encircled him then, holding on to him, wrapping him in warmth and showering him with brotherhood. Finally, he stopped, there was nothing left. His shoulders were heaving, his lungs worn out, his eyes flooded and yet their was a lightness inside. It was something powerful that he couldn't identify; it went hand in hand with the strong emotions he felt at this moment for these two men, these two brothers, that saved him from himself. He raised his head and relaxed, letting them hold his weight. It felt good...damn good.

"You're flesh and blood, Nathan Jackon." Larabee spoke slowly, "mortal. You're not God. He gave you a gift of healing. You've saved hundreds of lives. There's men who were ridin' them stretchers that went home from that war. The got married, had babies. You helped get them there. There's people on that train who are walking around today, because of you. Children who will grow up." He paused, gripping hard, "Listen for those voices... hear them."

"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow, but woe to him that is alone when he falls, for he has not another to help him up." Josiah soothed quietly of Ecclesiastes words of friendship.

He wiped his face on his sleeves, managed to stand and staggered to the river.

Chris and Josiah remained behind, recognizing the need of Nathan to gather himself up again. The worst of it was out. The yellow-green infectious muck that had been plagueing him for years, now was puddled at their feet. Would it be enough? They watched the tall man hunched form by the river, held onto hope and waited.

"Eureka!"

"Ezra?" J.D. backed up, the volume and unusual high-pitch in the Southerner's voice surprised him. Then he saw the woman who glared at him menacingly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ma'am...I can come back."

"If you leave now, Mister Dunne, you shall suffer grievous consequences!" the suffering man spat out, leaving a string of saliva. "Get your Yankee ass inside this instant. Madame!" He issued through clenched teeth, "and I do use that term with reservation, You are dismissed. Take your ample body from this room and do not return." He shook with rage, "God help all those misbegotten souls you have yet to torture. Or the small children you no doubt feast on at dinner."

"Well, I never!" She huffed, gathering up her things and heading for the door.

"...yes... I can see that," he said with dripping sarcasm, "...that, Madame, is half your problem."

"Huh?" J.D. frowned, then understood and smiled, "Hey, that's good Ezra, I gotta remember that one." He paused and tipped his hat at the unsightly nurse squeezed by. "Ughh!" He shivered, "I wouldn't want to wake up with her hovering over me... damn..."

"Thank you!" Ezra spat back, "Where the hell have you been? That woman has been torturing me for hours. There is not one inch of my flesh those claws didn't bruise or mar. Places that they didn't belong..."

"Gee, I'm sorry, Ezra, but I was busy with Buck and Vin." he moved into the room, "How you feeling?"

"Violated!" He clenched, lashing an arm out, "Get me up this instant!"

"Okay, hold your pants on," Dunne paused, eyeing the naked body, "Well, let me rephrase that..."

"Your attempt at humor pains me," the gambler grunted, digging his fingers into the younger man's shoulder.

"OW!" J.D. yelped. "Hold on a minute." He rolled Ezra onto his back and then lifted him easily from behind. "better?"

"Yes..." he panted, curious as the pain fled. "Whatever potion that toad-breathed crone used worked. Sore...but managable. Thank you," he issued, standing with caution. He was able to straigthen up, with only a residue of pain in his back.

"Hey I got you a present, hold on..." Dunne bounded from the room, returning with a chair.

"A chair," Ezra drolled, "How touching, I am overwhelmed."

"It's not a chair," the sheriff exuded, flipping the seat up. "See...it's got a chamber pot inside. So you can sit down and... well... you know."

"I think I can figure it out, no map is necessary," He moved stiffly across the room, the pain in his back coupled with the excruciating pressure on his bladder, nearly sent him to his knees. He eyed the fixture and nodded.

"See the arms are really strong, so you won't hurt your back getting up or down. Of course if you want, I can get the flower vase..."

"Good Lord," Ezra shuddered, "a dark moment that I don't wish to revisit. The concierge has my clothes, they were being cleaned. If could see to it, I'll break in this fine chair..."

"The who?" J.D. wrinkled his nose.

"The conci..." he rolled his eyes. "the man at the front desk, his name is George. I gave him a hefty tip in advance, don't pay him another cent."

"Hey, wait until you see Buck's nurse!" J.D. boomed, heading for the door, 'Her name's Abby and she's prettier than...well you ought to see her."

"Abby Bauer!" He raged, dropping onto the chair.

"Yeah, she gave him a slow bath and massage..."

"His days are numbered," Standish swore as the door slammed.

He stood for some time, watching the swirling water race past. He looked at the wreckage across the river and took a deep breath. He thought about the victims he'd helped. He had another vision than, a sweet one. New voices tickled his ear, the calls of 'thank you' that rained down the dawn after. Why hadn't he heard them before? The child who hugged him, tears in her eyes when he took the pain from her burns. The grateful mother who couldn't say a word, holding his hand and crying. So many more voices rose up, swelling to a joyful crescendo. Lives saved, pain removed, bodies healed. Children who would grow and marry, having families of their own. He sighed, scratched his chin and wondered on the good outweighing the bad. Why didn't he dream of those? Because Chris was right; the wounds from the war that possessed his soul were dripping with puss. Because Josiah was right; when there is no hand to pull you up when you're down, you are truly alone. Because deep down inside, these six men he rode with, were his family. He bowed his head then, rested his fist over his heart and prayed. He thanked God for bringing them into his life. He thanked him for bringing him to this river. But mostly, he thanked God for carrying him all these years, when he thought he was alone. Then he took his face to the sun. The sky seemed so much bluer; the air was sweet again and he felt that wonderful warmth bake his face. He took a deep breath and turned, keeping the smile of salvation on his face.

"Now that's a pretty face," Josiah teased, Chris chuckled and gave Nathan a clap on the back.

"Welcome back," the gunslinger said softly, squeezing the healer's neck.

"Amen!" Josiah beamed, gripping Nathan's shoulder.

"I want yuh both t'know..." he struggled, emotions riding high. "How grateful...what yuh done...Damn, sometimes 'Thank You' seems like two puny words."

"Not today," Chris eased, smiling at the healing light pouring from Nathan's eyes. "Not today, Nathan. Let's get some food in you and go home."

Part Twelve

"You look good with a cane, Ezra!" J.D. commented on the black oak cane trimmed with a silver handle. It was midafternoon and they were in the merchantile. Ezra paid for the handsome cane, which gave him support, and strode slowly towards the door. His eye caught a sign above the shelf in the corner. "Mister Dunne, a favor?"

"Depends..." J.D.'s eyes narrowed.

"I was wondering if you could get my flask filled," he handed his silver prized possession to the other. "Sipping Whiskey, the best, this should cover it. Procure an extra bottle as well. I have another purchase to make." He handed over some silver and waited until he was alone. He hobbled back to the counter and tapped it with his cane. "Madame, do you have that in stock?" He pointed to the sign.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we got a new shipment this morning. We can't keep them on the shelves." She leaned across the counter. "All the way from San Francisco..."

"Excellent!" his eyes lit up. "I'll take a box."

J.D. waited for Nathan to approach and handed him his bottle and flask. Then they preceeded into the makeshift clinic. J.D. went in first, his eyes shot to Vin, who was still sleeping. Then the other man looked up, flipping the newspaper away.

"Hey Buck, look who I found!"

"Hey, Ace, you look fit as a fiddle!" Buck commented, eyeing the nattily attired gentleman. The rogue was dressed and out of bed. The doctor agreed that if he was careful and put no weight on the injured leg, he could sit at the table. The leg was resting on the pillows on the edge of the bed. "Soon as I can get over there, I'm gonna wire a donation to the Red Cross in San Francisco. Angels of mercy..." he paused, hearing an almost rapid growl. "You okay? Sounds like you ate somethin' funny." His eyebrows wagged then, "Hey, pull up a chair and I'll tell you about Abby's magical fingers." He exuded, wiggling his fingers, "You got the good shit, gimme some of that."

"Spare me the sordid details of your amourous adventure. While you were seducing the lovely Miss Bauer," he hissed, taking a liberal sip of his flask and hobbling further into the room. "I was being manhandled by a gruesome creature whose plundering fingers and bestial bedside manner may have scarred me for life." He sat the bottle in front of the smirking, mustached man.

Buck was in mid-laugh, when he saw Vin was awake finally and his whole face screwed up. He'd been sleeping all day, except when J.D. coaxed water into him. It was obvious that the lost tracker didn't know what to make of Ezra Standish. The blues eyes narrowed under furrowed brows, the shaggy head was cocked to one side. The gaze went up and down the flashy dressed southerner and the nose wrinkled. This made Wilmington laugh even harder.

"This here is Erza Standish, Vin, don't pay him any mind, we don't," Buck chortled, slapping the gambler's leg lightly.

"Thank you!" Ezra shot back, turning his attention the bedridden Texan.

"Kinda hard on the eyes, isn't he?" Buck needled.

"Haa!" Vin agreed, screwing his face up again at the stranger.

"You being the resident fashion assassin," the gambler shot back, "...are in no position to comment on my apparel." He turned back, "Hello, Vin." He looked awful. His face was swollen and discolored. The burned arm was resting on his bandaged chest. The horrid , ragged cut on the head stood out too clearly. J.D. warned him that Vin was still lost in the past. He approached with caution. "How are you feeling?

"Gizhaa," he grimaced, his head was pounding and he was dizzy. "Ede iN" he waved a hand in front of his hot face.

"Although I don't understand the meaning of those words, as usual your animated efforts speak clearly. You look decidedly unwell and feverish."

"Hagai?" Vin screwed his face up, shaking his head. Then he looked at Buck and J.D., both were laughing.

"Hell, Ezra, we can barely follow what you're sayin' at times," Wilmington joked, "Try to remember who you're talking to."

"Understood, I'm sorry." Ezra nodded, "May I?" he pointed to the chair and saw he head dip once. "I've brought you a gift, would you like to open it now?"

"Haa!" Vin shot upright, eyes wide. A present! He moved too quickly and the room began to spin around. "Gai... Gai..." he denied, not wanting to pass out. He felt someone righting him and backed up, seeing the red coat coming near. It reminded him of a rooster strutting around.

"Better?" Ezra waited, watching sweat running down Vin's face. "Would you like some water?"

"Haa!" Vin took the cup and drank it, pausing to issue a loud, wet burp. "AisheN..."

"It's reassuring to know that some part of you remains," Ezra smiled, then paused when Vin drew an loud exclaimation of breath and craned his head.

"Hinga?" Vin demanded, pointing to the stranger.

"What?" Ezra puzzled, moving closer, "Is there a problem?" Before he could react, Vin's finger pried his lip open. "What on earth are you doing?" He moved, wiping his mouth. Vin was adament, moving again and tugging at his tooth.

"Ohapite!" Vin demanded of the yellow tooth. It shone like the sun! "Ohapite!" he held his hand out, wiggling his fingers.

"Keep your filthy paws out of my mouth!" Ezra stood up, but Vin followed, sliding his slim body into a sitting position and grabbing the red coat.

"Ohapite!" Vin demanded, tugging on the coat and reaching for the gold tooth.

"Of all the gall," Ezra huffed, peeling Vin's arms from his jaw. The fact the J.D. and Buck were nearly breaking blood vessels laughing didn't help. "A hand, gentlemen?"

"Not all the tea in China!" Buck coughed, "You're on your own, Ace."

"Have a heart, Ezra, give him the tooth." J.D. added.

"You cannot have that, it's my tooth, it's attached to my gums..." Ezra gritted, finally shoving the octopus like arms away. "Furthermore, you're behaving like a wild animal."

"Haa!" Vin growled, trying again, but then the room began to swim. He'd taken too many breaths and now his lungs wouldn't work. Instead, a fire exploded in his chest. Suddenly he was clawing at air. He couldn't breathe, the fire in his chest was great. "Te...he..no..." he managed, panicking.

"Shit!" Buck's smile died, "Ezra grab him... J.D. get him back in the bed. "Vin, you okay? Vin?" He fretted, "check his leg, J.D..."

"Okay Vin?" the youth remained next to his friend, wincing at the deathgrip Vin had on his hand. He used the free one to take a wet cloth from Ezra and wipe the ill man's face.

"Maiku," Vin nodded, grateful for the help. The stranger's face was as red as his coat. Vin felt foolish then. He saw the wrapped package next to the Ezra man and frowned. Perhaps he was too angry to give the gift. He had to change his mind. He felt his face flush and curled up.

"Vin you want some water?" J.D. asked.

"Gai," Vin whispered into the pillow.

"Now look what you did!" Buck hissed as Ezra made his way to the table. "You hurt his feelings. I know it's hard, Erza, cause he looks the same. But he's not. He's a kid, remember. Nobody should have to watch their family get butchered, least of all a kid."

"Alright, one blue-eyed albatross is enough!" He sighed, moved back to the bed and sat down. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to offend you. If there is any way I can make amends..."

Vin turned his face up, widened his pain filled eyes and sighed, shrugging. He saw the man's eyes change. They softened and slid to the package. It was working! He sighed again, letting out a soft whimper, rubbing his head. "Te...he..no..."

"Uh... uh..." Ezra struggled, looking to Buck who seemed equally at a loss.

"He'll be back, Vin," J.D. tried but the sorrowful face remained.

"Oh Dear," Standish sighed, taking the flask out and taking a good dose.

Vin's eyes slid to the pretty silver object. Then his nose twitched. He knew what was inside! "...hibi..." he whispered, mouth watering.

"Would you like to open your gift now?"

Vin sighed and took his saddest eyes to the stranger. He shrugged again, resting his head on the pillow and wincing in pain. Through blue slits, he saw the green eyes soften again. He muffled a cry and fisted the sheet.

"Here now," Ezra managed, "none of that. Perhaps this will help."

"Now that's what I call a miracle" Buck laughed, watching the tranformation. In the span of a few seconds, the suffering soul who was barely able to move, sprang to life. The slim body sat up and took the box, nimble fingers ripping the paper off. "Damn son, slow down!" he laughed, J.D. joining him.

Vin's nose told him before he opened the box. He couldn't believe it and his heart began to hammer. He took the lid off and let out a short war call. An action which temporarily took his breath away. Despite the pain he felt, the aroma of the contents was overpowering.

"It's candy!" Ezra acknowledged, smiling at the joyful and youthful outburst.

"...Haa!" Vin nodded, shoving several of the tiny chocolate pieces into his mouth. "AisheN..."

"Vin, slow down, you'll get sick and Chris'll kill me." Buck shouted, "Ezra get the box back."

"Vin, perhaps if..."

"Gai!" Vin twisted away, shoving more into his mouth.

"Stop that this instant, you're acting like a spoiled chi... uh... give me that."

"Gai..." Vin denied, trying to hold onto the box. But the red coat took back. "...Gai Gai!" he reached and clawed, only to be denied.

"First, if you insist on behaving in this manner, you'll get no more. Second, you know how to speak English and from now on will do so. Do I make myself clear?"

Vin thought for a moment, his belly warring with his mouth for more of the tasty candy. His thoughts went to the silver flask as well. "Haa..."

"Excuse me?" Ezra tilted his head, studying the face, trying not to smile at the chocolate all over his lips and running down his chin.

"Yes..."

"Much better. After you've eaten some supper, later, you may have some more." Ezra huffed, handing Vin his hankerchief. "Wipe your mouth."

"Mine!" Vin demanded, then huffed in anger when both the red coat and his box moved away. He wiped his mouth and tossed the soiled article away. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. He wanted more. "Hah..." he scowled, turning his body into the pillow.

"You riled him up, but good," Buck nodded, "Looks like he always had that hot head. Hey, nice move on the English. I was afraid to scare him off."

"Has the doctor said when he'll recover... that is... gain his memory back?" Ezra asked, pouring them each a drink from the bottle. He pulled out a deck of cards.

"No, he damn near died on us last night. The doc says he has a long way to go... that shot to the head was a whopper. You up for a game?"

"Is the Pope a catholic?" the gambler replied, dealing the cards.

"I'm gonna finish my letter to Casey and maybe buy her a little gift. The judge is leaving tomorrow and I'll send it back with him."

"Okay, Kid, but get her something nice, okay, a girl present." Buck called after the departing youth. "Josiah and Chris should be back soon. I sure hope Nathan comes with them."

While the two men played, the room became warm. Ezra shed his jacket, tossing over the chair next to Vin. He paused a moment, watching Vin's pained face. Even in slumber, he couldn't escape it. He returned to the table and picked up his hand. Unbeknownst to the men, the sly fox was awake.

Vin slid his blue slits to the men, who were involved in their game. He eyed the coat, the bulge in the pocket and moved his hand slowly. He got to the box of candy first, slipping his hand inside and taking out a lot. He shoved them all in, sucking on the wonderful sweet treat until they melted and he could swallow. He was thirsty. He eyed the other bump in the coat. Through slits, he gazed at the table again and slipped his hand inside. He slid the bottle under the pillow. Deft fingers undid the top. One more glance to ensure he wouldn't be caught. He took a great gulp, nearly belching at the fire. He replaced the lid and the bottle in the jacket. Hearing movement, he feigned sleep again. It was hard to remain still, this was different fire water. It burned a lot! He felt his eyes tearing as he held it in.

"He okay?" Buck asked, watching Ezra move to the bed.

"His face is flushed and his eyes are tearing." The gambler misread the pained look. "Can't they give him something for pain?"

"The doc's comin' by with his dinner, he doses him up after." Buck paused, hiding a smile as Ezra's hand went to the cloth in the bowl next to Vin. He wiped the hot face and eyes, before turning to move away. He frowned, seeing a stain on his jacket. "That's funny..." he reached inside, noticing the loose cap. He refilled the flask and returned it to the pocket.

After the two men resumed the game, the sly fox's repeated his movements. It was hot. Very hot. He felt sweat pouring from him. His stomach didn't feel so good. His head was pounding, his chest on fire. He needed help. He tried to open his eyes, but they wouldn't work. He felt hands on his face and squinted.

"Te..he...no..."

"Why is he so hot?" Ezra asked, wiping his face again. "Moreover, where is Chris?" He saw Buck starting to rise, his handsome face creased in worry. "No! Sit down. I'll get Doctor Smith." He took his cane and began the slow journey.

"Take it easy Vin... you hang in there, okay?" Buck called over, watching the body squirm.

"Dy...ing..." Vin gasped, he was sure that is what this sickness was.

"Of course you ain't dying." Buck snapped, angry that he was stuck across the room. The moans slipped out, soft at first, then stronger. The slim body moved again, face glistened in sweat. Vin curled up into a ball and screamed in pain. Then his eyes shot open and his body began to hunch and flex.

"Shit..." Buck eyed the distance between them. "J.D.! Ezra!" he turned back to the body fighting back vomit. "Toss it up Vin, you're gonna choke." Then the eyes rolled back in his head and he fell backwards, not moving. "Aw, hell... he'll choke..." Buck feared of the vomit rising. "Vin! Vin!" There was no movement. The echoes of the warnings of the doctor lingered in his ear, which spoke of how close he came to bleeding to death. Despite the delicate surgery that nearly cost him his leg and the ramifications of his actions, he had no choice. He eased his injured leg off the bed, barely supressing a scream as circulation streamed back.

"God..." he clenched, eyes tearing of the pain. Sweat poured down his face an he licked his dry lips, clenched the edge of the table and stood on his good leg.

"Buck! What the hell are you doing?"

"Chris!" The other man sighed in relief. "Thank God!" He heaved, collapsing into Larabee's arms. "Something's wrong with Vin... choking I think... Erza went for the... the... doc...tor... shit!" He cried out, pain exploding in his leg.

"Lean on me," the blond directed, getting the injured man back to his bed. He gently raised the leg over the pillows and watched the dark blue eyes rolling in pain. The mouth opened in a silent scream; locked in too much agony to verbalize. Finally, the eyes focused on him, full of pain, in a wet face.

"I'm... okay... see... to... Vin..." Buck clenched, gripping the side of the bed.

"Nathan and Josiah are right behind me..." he updated, moving to Vin's side. "Vin?" He eased Vin over his arm and pried his mouth open. A hard wet cough ensued, spilling a mouthful of residue on the floor. He eased the body back, tapping the cheeks and unfocused blue eyes blinked at him.

"...he.no!" Vin cried out, lifting his arms and babbling half in English.

"Slow down!" Chris felt his face, flinching at the heat. "When did this start?"

"...not... long..." Buck managed.

Vin frowned, despite his own misery, when he heard Buck's voice. Craning his neck, he saw the agony the other man wore. "Buck...lin... hurt..." he whispered, sitting up and trying to get out.

"No, stay put!"'

Vin paled then, realizing his new friend had maybe reinjured the leg because of him. It was at this time, he belly began to boil. "Te..heno... move..."

"Move?" Chris asked, not fast enough. Vin's threw up violently, all over him and the bed. The backwards motion of the acidic residue over broken ribs caused enough pain to make the younger man pass out. Fearing he'd choke, Chris pried his mouth open, but it was empty.

"What happened?" Nathan demanded, running up the aisle. "Buck?"

"...s'okay... Nate..." he managed, biting his lip, then smiling when the familiar sight of the worried brown eyes appeared. "Hey... missed that face... you stayin'?" His arm shot up, trying to find the other man. He felt it take hold and gave a good grip.

"Somebody has t'kick yuh fool ass... told yuh t'stay off that leg!" He cut the bandages off, relieved when no blood shown through. "Looks okay...but yuh're no more chances. I'll wash it up and rewrap it in a minute. I want to check on Vin." He went to move away and felt his wrist snagged.

"Are you okay?" Buck worried, more about this man's inner wounds.

"I will be, Buck. I had a lot of pain inside, rottin' away for years. It's out now." He paused, feeling the strong hand locked onto his wrist. He covered it with his own. "I know it's gonna take some time t'heal... but I'm on the right road now."

"You need to talk... I'm .... here... help..."

"Yuh already did, thanks Buck!"

"What the hell?" Chris demanded, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the mess that covered him. "Chocolate and whiskey?" He frowned, then glared hostily at Buck. "Where the Hell did he get chocolate and whiskey?"

The Beelbezub-like bellow from hell brought the unconscious man's eyes open. He fought the hand on his face at first, then welcomed the wet cloth. He tried to suck on it, and found a mug tipped to his lips. Through blurry eyes he saw Teheno. There was no mistaking that murderous look. His brother was angry! As sick as he was, he knew he was in trouble somehow and tried to work his magic again. "...hurts..."

"I'll bet it does," Chris growled, tapping the slack face. "Wake up, Vin. Quit playing 'possum. Where'd you get that whiskey?"

"Whiskey?" Vin's eyes widen in feigned confusion.

"Yeah," Chris snarled, gripping the shoulders, "this stuff you threw up all over me. Answer me!"

The loud voice was like a knife in his head. He cried out and curled up, yanking his arm free and covering his head. "...the rooster... the rooster..."

"Chris, you're hurtin' him" Buck warned, watching Vin carefully, until the body went limp in the stench-ridden gunslinger's arms. "He's out again."

"Chris, yuh gonna have to move, I have t'clean him and that bed up." Nate persuaded. It didn't take them long to strip Vin and move him. While Nate got water boiling in the kitchen, the other two men tried to piece the puzzle together.

"Was he alone at all?"

"No..." Buck replied, "well, I dozed off for awhile, but I don't think anybody came in..."

"But he could have gotten up..." Chris theorized half-heartedly.

"No, I don't think so... he damn near fell out of the bed when he sat up." Buck replied, "I'm sorry Chris, I guess I messed up. Maybe... somebody dropped supplies off in the other room and left a bottle on the end there,' he nodded to the table. "I didn't see..."

"It's not your fault, Buck." Chris disarmed, "The rooster?" he puzzled, taking his soiled shirt off. "Thanks, Nate," he nodded as a small bowl of soapy water appeared. As he washed, he thought on the clues. He tried not to flinch, but his side was throbbing and his shoulder roared to life.

"Keep yuh shirt off 'til I look at that wound," the healer ordered, washing the unconscious Texan carefully. He peeled back the bandages on the leg, just as the doctor reappeared.

"Nathan," Miles Smith paused, resting his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "I'm so sorry, I should have spoken with you sooner. I had no idea."

"Miles, it's not yuh fault," Jackson heard every bit of conviction.

"You should know something else," the doctor eyed Vin's wound over the ex medic's shoulder. "I've traveled throughout these United States and I've practiced in many hospitals. I've stood shoulder to shoulder with the finest surgeons in this fair land of ours. I was never prouder than working next to you at the crash scene."

"I don't know what t'say..." Nate shook his head, chest filling. He felt his eyes burning and took a steadying breath.

"I heard that just fine," Miles Smith smiled, "Why don't you see to Chris's side and I found his sling and had it cleaned. It's all ready."

Buck chuckled at the face Chris made, as Nathan began to fuss over him. While he denied he needed it, over the healer's scolding head, he winked at Buck and grinned.

"Good work, Pard!" Buck mouthed, "Hey Nate, you got any horse piss? My leg's killing me. How about giving a real patient some attention?"

."Wait a minute..." Chris hissed, as his arm was placed back in the sling. He wouldn't admit it, but it did feel better there. "Did you say Ezra was here?"

"Yeah, he gave Vin some chocolate, but only a few pieces." Buck paused, flinching as the healer probed his leg. "He didn't give him any whiskey..."

"He had his red coat on?" Chris saw the dark head nod. "I think I found the rooster."

"No, Chris, he did good. He got Vin talking English, scolded him good, took the candy away when he started shoveling it into his mouth too fast. He never gave ..."

"What?" Chris asked, moving closer.

"That little sneak," Buck shook his head, wincing as Nathan reapplied his bandage. "Not so tight..." He let Nathan slide two pillows behind him and sighed. "Thanks Nathan."

"Finish." Chris's eyes drew together.

"Ezra couldn't figure out why his flask kept leaking. Every time he got up to check Vin, his pocket was wet and the damn thing was empty."

"So was this," a voice said, hobbling into the room. He put the empty box of chocolate on the table. "I'm sorry," he turned to Chris. "I am afraid I was the unwilling victim in an unsavory scheme."

"Vin conned you?" Chris blew out a hot air and shook his head.

"With every moan, rolling blue eyes and pain filled gyraton he could muster," Ezra sat down next to Buck. "I've seen clouds with more color. Perhaps you need a nurse. I know of an available one, highly trained in massaging hard to reach places."

"Here Buck," Nathan handed him a mug of liquid. "Yuh drink that down, it'll take the pain away." He turned awkwardly, not sure of what to say to Ezra Standish. "Ezra... what I did... there's no excuse. I could have hurt yuh bad. I'm glad yuh're okay... I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too, Nathan," Ezra extended his hand, shaking the other's "That you had to endure such a festering wound. I only wish I could have helped, rather than send you fleeing from town. I wasn't screaming at you, I was afraid of being moved."

"I didn't even know yuh were there," the healer shifted, "I couldn't see anything but bodies and metal. I was trying to find yuh in that train. I didn't...realize how much guilt I was holdin' onto from... the... w...w..ar." He whispered, it still hurt, as raw wounds do. "I... we... were taught t'pick up them that we could fix. The others... grabbed... needed help... God..." He swallowed hard.

"Perhaps we should go outside and get some air?" Standish offered, a little uncomfortable with the show of emotion. "Although I have no idea of what horror you were forced to live through, I can say your actions were beyond heroic and certainly there is no cause drop your head."

"Thanks, Ezra," he sighed, "I don't know what I need. I feel sort of uncomfortable in my own skin. How is he?" He asked Doctor Smith, changing the subject.

"His fever is up a bit, but I am confident it's due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, he'll have to be careful of his diet, until his head injury heals more. Too much rich food will cause him to become ill. Soft, mild foods, soups, eggs and the like, should stay down."

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly. Buck and Vin slept, under Josiah's watchful eye. Nathan's hangover kicked in and he retired to his room. J.D. and Chris went to meet with Orrin, Major Kelly and the Secretary of Transportation. Chris wasn't happy about the report, but it was better than he hoped.

Dinner came and went, Vin slept on. While the others ate quietly nearby, he battled nightmares. He was tied up again, flames roared around him. A devil with blond hair was using a spear, stabbing him. He struggled against his bindings, fighting hard. Then the picture began to change. Instead of his grandmother, Bazi and the others, it was his new friends who were hurt and bleeding. The bearer of the spear lit the end, causing a flame to glow bright. He snapped his wrist back, aiming it at his unprotected head. But Teheno leapt at the evil man, taking the spear instead.

"Chris, what's wr..." Josiah didn't get a chance to finish his thought, the blond tossed his chair back and crossed the room in three long strides. He got to the beside, just as the scream erupted.

"No!"

"Vin!" Buck sat up, blinking and coughing.

"Wake up, you're having a bad dream," Chris issued sharply, pressing the flailing body down against the bank of pillows. He was covered in sweat and shaking all over. His eyes were wild and frantic; most likely not seeing anything in the room. His chest heaved in short, painful pants. "Vin," he tapped the cheek lightly and the eyes blinked. Vin took a shuddering breath and immediately launched into a confused, mixed up dialect. "Slow down... calm down..."

Vin snaked his arms through Teheno's and tugged at his shirt. Why weren't they helping? Didn't they see the spear wound?

"What are you doing?" Chris pulled back, after three buttons were undone.

"...fire... on spear... in yer chest... he... I... will... kill him... I will... he... tied... stabbed... he will die..." Vin coughed loudly, his exertion getting the best of him. He couldn't stop shaking, it was so real.

"I'm fine, nobody used a spear on me, take a look," he peeled his shirt away. The fingers probed his chest and the face furrowed, but then satisfied, the hand retracted.

"Here, Chris," J.D. moved in with a mug of water. "You okay, Vin?" He winced when his friend turned away, face flaming. "Eveybody has nightmares Vin, it's nothing to be ashamed of..."

"Thanks, J.D.," Chris took the mug and shook off the rest. "Here," he managed to get the water into the suffering soul, before the body turned away. "You need to eat, how 'bout some soup?"

"...no food..." Vin whispered, the pain screaming in his head. His stomach was churning again, his chest and leg throbbed. "...it hurts..."

"I know," Chris said softly, knowing Vin wasn't fooling around this time. "Nathan has some tea with medicine in it."

"Easy now, yuh got yuhself all worked up..." Nathan stopped when the body moved backwards, trying to escape. "Vin's what's wrong?"

"Na...than..." Vin lifted his eyes, looking at a man with brown skin. He stared up at the face as saw caring brown eyes.

"Nathan Jackson," Nate said, taking the seat Chris vacated next to Tanner. He saw the eyes flash a moment, over his shoulder to where he knew Chris stood.

"It's okay, Vin," the gunslinger soothed, "Nate's a healer, like the doctor. He's a good man, he's my friend."

Vin considered that a moment, then took his eyes back to the kind brown ones. He nodded then, "...my friend too..."

"Good," Chris said, "You get that tea in you, I'll be right there," he pointed to the table. He wanted Vin to trust Nathan and that meant letting him go.

"Here yuh go, easy now," Nathan coaxed, guiding the cup of tea. "I know about bad dreams, I been havin' some myself. They're real scary...sometimes yuh don't know when yuh're sleepin' or awake."

"I saw... they killed... my family..." Vin's jaw trembled. "I see it again... she's lookin' at me... I tried... I tried... I did..."

"I know yuh did, Vin, yuh got lots of courage, yuh did all yuh could. Them bas... uh... bad men beat yuh..."

"Do they come while ya sleep?"

"Yeah," Nate nodded, watching the tea disappear. "I was in a war a few years back. There was lots of men that got hurt. Some of them were dying. I was helping the doctors t'fix up the wounded. My job was t'carry them t'the... where the doctor was. But I couldn't help them all, there was t'many. That's what I see sometimes when I sleep. Them dyin' men, hollerin' at me... callin'... reachin'... I couldn't save 'em..." he stopped suddenly, not aware that he'd said so much. His jaw trembled as the pain came back. "I tried too... Vin..." He closed his eyes and felt a hand on his cheek. He opened them and spotted a light of empathy shining blue and strong.

"...we will fight... together... Na...than..."

He smiled then, seeing Vin Tanner the man so clearly in the boy revisited. Wherever Teheno was, he'd done a helluva job. "Okay, Vin..." he agreed, urging the remainder of the tea inside.

"I don't want them anymore," Vin sighed, glad for the strong dark hand that supported his slender pale one. He turned his pained eyes to the other man, "Do ya... have... medicine... that will... make them go away.?" He paused, watching the kind eyes deepen in sorrow and pain. "Please... I'll be good..."

"I know yuh..." Nate choked, taking a deep breath. If Vin's normal eyes were bad on the soul, the one's from a lost thirteen year old were brutal. "...will, Vin. How 'bout we help each other, okay? Close them eyes and get some sleep. I'll stay here in case them bad dreams come back."

"...make more medicine?" Vin blinked, his grip on the brown hand slipping.

"Yup," he coached, easing Vin's limp hand under the blanket. One eye peeled half open. regarding him a moment.

"...Na...than take medicine... fir...first... I okay..."

"Damn," Nate choked, watching the body rest finally. "Yuh got yuh'r own medicine inside, don't yuh Vin Tanner."

While Nathan spoke with Vin, Ezra was pouring shots in everyone's coffee. Chris declined, taking a straight shot. He sighed, sipped it carefully and shook his head. "I'll take a good gunfight over this anyday," he paused, "this business of saving souls is too wearing on a body."

They laughed then, content for the moment to make a circle around the two that still needed healing.

"If our two comrades are to heal, I don't think this is the proper environment." Ezra noted, "...especially for Vin. We can't hide him in here forever. What reaction will he have when he encounters that army outside? They won't see him as we do..."

"Ezra's right, it's gonna get hairy," Buck added from his bed. "We need to get them out of this crowded town. They won't find peace here..."

"What did you say, Buck?" Chris sat up, green eyes keen.

"Peace?" Buck repeated, "That's what they need to get well."

"I know a place," Chris said, nodding thoughtfully. Tomorrow, he would make the arrangments. Tonight, they would stay close to their two emotionally wrought friends. They'd draw the circle tighter, holding on to the weak links until they could stand again.

The smell was smothering him. It invaded his deep sleep, stabbing at his wounded psyche. The vile odor of burning flesh invaded his black void, ripping it wide open. They streamed through, the undead, black sockets where eyes should be, limbless bodies raining down on him from above. The thuds of the bloody torsos hitting the ground was deafening. He try to flee but he was trapped; the bony arms of the corpses held him down. The bodies landed on him, the stifling stench of rotting flesh was smothering him. Higher and higher... they covered him... the smell... the sound... he couldn't breathe... he was going to die. He tried to scream, but the decaying flesh filled his mouth.

It wasn't much of a sound, but to the keen-eared tracker, it was like a scream. He blinked into the darkness above his bed. He cocked his head and heard it again. He sat up, clutching his throbbing head and waiting for the room to stop spinning. The muffled cries were stronger; someone was in pain.

"Teheno?" His first thought was that his brother was hurt. He stood and hissed as pain lanced through his leg and up his back. He tiptoed over to the next bunk, then sighed. His brother was sleeping soundly. The sound returned, frantic and desperate. He staggered a few feet, holding onto the edges of the bed, hoping that the floor would stop moving. He paused, peered into the near darkness and saw the problem.

"Na...than..." He whispered, eyeing the distance to where his new friend was suffering. He was doing fine, until he came to a span of ground with nothing to hold onto. Sweat poured down his face, neck and back, soaking his nightshirt. Still, he perservered, taking a deep breath, he moved forward, stumbling and falling, unable to breathe. Gasping on his hands and knees, he crawled, fumbling with his hand until he felt wood. Groping, he pulled himself up far enough to sit on the edge of the bed.

In the dim light, he could see the dark skin covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. The body twitched, the hands moved harshly against the air, as if digging. The head thrashed on the wet pillow, the mouth was gasping for air, but there was no sound.

"Na..than..." Tentative at first, he waited, but the man seemed to be worse. He reached hand out, shaking the damp flesh on the man's shoulder. "Na...than..."

"No!" the agonizing soul trapped in the nightmare said, lashing out and hitting flesh. A cry brought his eyes open. At first, he couldn't breathe, sweat ran off him like river water and his whole body shook. He eyed the inky air and wondered where they were. He gripped the side of the bunk, just as a hand touched his arm.

"No!" He cried out, shoving the arm off. "Leave me alone... why can't yuh leave me alone? Go away!"

"...m'sorry... Na...than..." Vin mumbled, stunned by the viscious words. He tried to leave, but his legs wouldn't work. His face was hot and he felt sick. He felt the man's leg move, coming off the bed and landing next to his own. He tried to move away, sliding backwards until a hand grabbed him. "Gai Gai!" he panicked, feeling the room flying around.

"Vin?" Nathan blinked down at the trembling body on the floor. His fuzzy head tried to make sense of this scene.

"...I tried t'help... fight... dreams..." Vin panted. "...thought... ya... needed... help..."

"Aw, damn," Jackson slumped, wiping a hand over his worn features. "I'm sorry, Vin. I was so lost in that dream I didn't realize. Yuh come all the way over here... for me?" He saw the coughing head bob once and winced. "Here, let me help yuh up... I hope yuh didn't bust any stitches..."

"No... leaks..." Vin coughed. "'m'okay..." He felt himself lifted and eased onto the bed. He coughed again, gripping the arm next to him hard. The fire crested in his chest and he panicked, gagging and shaking.

"Calm down, yuh gettin' yuhself all worked up!" Nate ordered, kneeling in front of Vin and grabbing his jaw. "Look at me!" He ordered sharply, watching the head rise. "Slow and easy, in through yuh nose and out through yuh mouth. Come on now..." he coached, feeling the tension leave the slim man's body as the exercise worked. "better?"

"Haa!' Vin nodded, still shaken.

"Hold on, I'll get yuh somethin' to drink."

"Hibi..." Vin released automatically, then frowned when a deep laugh escaped his new friend's lips. He felt the strong hand on his shoulder and cocked his head.

"No, yuh'r flagged. No more hibi!" Nathan chuckled, "Yuh turnin' into a little lush. How 'bout some water?" He saw the tracker's nose wrinkle, but got two full mugs into him. He rested a hand on the Texan's forehead and frowned. "How's that belly?"

"...full o'jumpin frogs..." Vin choked, trying hard. "...no throw up... Teheno will be angry..."

He smiled then, as the injured man's eyes unconsciously went across the room to where Larabee slept. "Come on, I'll help yuh back to bed. How 'bout some tea? It'll help yuh'r belly."

"Thanks... Na..than..." Vin sighed, stood and they latched onto the body next to him. "...make it stop... moving..."

"Yuh won't fall... I gotcha..." he eased the weak man back to his bed, supporting most of his weight. He turned the pillows to the fresh side and made sure they were fluffed. Vin's breathing was much better when he was raised. He turned the lamp up a little bit, before easing the body down. "I'll be right back," he gave Vin's knee a pat and moved to the kitchen. He returned with a tray bearing a mug of broth, a mug of tea and some crackers, as well as coffee for himself.

"They're bad spirits..." Vin said, watching the other man's face. "they're hidin' in yer eyes... I don't like that!" He pouted, sniffing the steam rising.

"I don't either, Vin and they sure are bad," He took his coffee and nodded, "...go on and sip some of that broth." He was rewarded after the first sip, with a moan. "Good, huh, better than hibi?"

"No!" Vin smiled evilly. "I like the rooster's shining bottle... and his candy!" He took more sips, breaking crackers into the broth and easing them down. Then his blue eyes grew wide. "Did ya know he has a golden tooth!"

Jackson laughed again, enjoying this young Vin's perspective.

"He does! I seen it... it shines like the sun..."

"Probably conned it off of some poor bas... nevermind," the healer chuckled, nudging the cup closer.

"My brother will be chief one day... there is nobody braver than Teheno..." Vin proclaimed proudly, then wrinkled his nose. "sometimes he gets angry... says I'm like fire ants in his breeches..." Vin paused then, hearing the deep laughter. "...it's not funny!"

"I'm sorry, Vin," the healer wiped his eyes, "...yuh sure are crazy about the brother of yuhr's."

"One day... we will hunt together... fight side by side..." Vin jutted his chin out.

"I bet yuh will at that." Nate pushed the cup again. "Go on, now drink up... it'll help yuhr fever."

"Na..than?" Vin burped and took a sip of tea. "Do ya have brothers too?"

"Sure do," the brown face broke into a soft smile. "Six of 'em."

"Six!" Vin was impressed, blinking as the herbal tea began to take effect. "Yer lucky..."

"I sure am, Vin," he noted, sending a silent prayer of thanks for his six new brothers. He looked at the fevered man then and smiled. "Yuhr brother's lucky too..."

"Hah!" Vin grinned boldly, his eyes heavy. "I'm sly like the fox and brave like the wolf..." he yawned, turning his blinking eyes to his sleeping brother. "...one... day... I will... make... him... proud..."

"Yuh already do, Vin, he busts his buttons every time he looks at yuh."

"...he does..." Vin blinked, trying to find the healer's face.

"He sure does." Nate proclaimed, moving the tray away. He returned then, taking the seat next to the sleeping patient. He filled a basin with alcohol and water, using a cloth to wipe the face, neck and chest. One blue slit regarded him silently, the lips moving as a hand came up. Nathan took the hand and bent lower.

"Didn't I tell yuh to close them eyes?" He scolded gently, watching Vin struggle hard to stay awake.

"...no... sleep... fight... bad... spirit... prom...ised..."

"What the hell are yuh doin' to me, yuh damn raggedy assed Texan," he choked, gripping the hand tighter. Finally the eyes closed and he pulled the sheet up to Vin's neck. He sat down in a chair next to the bed. Vin Tanner would sleep in peace tonight, his brother was on duty. Pity the nightmare that tried to steal his dreams.

"Hey, Hey,"

"Huh?" Nathan blinked, spotting a brown pair of pants. "J.D.?"

"Is Vin okay? Why are you sleeping in the chair?"

"...fever went up... wiped him down..." Nate groaned, stretching, standing and resting his hand on Vin's flushed face. "...ain't worse... What time is it?"

"Almost seven, the Judge sent me for you and Chris. They're having a breakfast meeting at the hotel in ten minutes."

"Vin can't be left alone."

"He won't be, Buck'll be here and Abby is coming over."

"Well, I won't stay long." He moved to the kitchen. He stripped to the waist and got washed. He was drying his face, when a hand appeared with a clean shirt. "Thanks."

"How's Vin?" Chris asked, sitting on a chair by the dry sink. He was also cleaned up, with J.D.'s help, and his arm was in a red sling.

"Ouch!" Nate laughed, eyeing the unLarabee like shade.

"Vin's idea... he goaded J.D. into swapping. Little wiseass..." He sipped some coffee and frowned, "When he wakes up I'm gonna have a talk with him about that stunt he pulled yesterday. He's gonna apologize to Buck and Ezra..."

"Chris," Nathan interruped, with a soft voice, soulful eyes and gentle touch. "Don't be too hard on him. Last night..." he paused, struggling for a moment. "I had a bad dream... he drug himself clear across the room... wanted to chase the bad spirits away... go downright angry at 'em..." He stopped again, taking a deep breath. "I gotta him settled in the bed and got some tea and broth in 'im. He never took his eyes offa yuh. Yuh shouldda heard the pride in his voice..." he pulled the shirt on, watching color flood the other man's face, nearly matching the sling. "'then again, he told me Teheno told 'im sometimes he was like fireants in his breeches" The both laughed then, Nate enjoyed the soft light shining in the green eyes. "I watched him sleepin'... kept thinkin' 'bout him bein all alone after his family was killed. Then tossed in a prison... I tell yuh what... whoever Teheno was, he did one helluva job."

"Yeah," Chris agreed, scratching his chin. "Come on, the Judge is waiting."

Nathan was barely in the private dining room, when Orrin Travis as pressing his hand. The other was on his shoulder, pressing firmly. He saw the concern in the aging eyes and heard sincerity in the rich voice. "

"Nathan, how are you?"

"Better, Sir, thanks. I ain't out of the woods yet, but I can see the river..."

"If there's anything I can do, you let me know. How's Vin?"

"His fever's up a little, but that's not so uncommon." he saw the question in the eyes. "He's still lost back in time."

"That does concern me..." the judge move away and watched as they filled their plates. "I want to thank you for your patience during this investigation. It will be several weeks before all the knots are untangled, but the President assures me that the public will be made aware of all the details." He paused at the dark faces and a scoff by the brooding blond. "Spit it out, Chris, before you choke."

"I wouldn't waste my breath!" Larabee seethed.

"What's done is done," Travis tried to placate, "Unleashing that temper of your won't change history. You... we... have to put it behind us and move on."

"Don't patronize me!" He pounded the table and stood, "They used us for fuckin' cannon fodder! Buck, Ezra and Vin damn near got killed guarding a bunch of rocks! I read that report, Orrin, every boring paragraph of double talk. They could have saved a whole lot of ink. Three words...that sums up what those arrogant bastards did.' He paused, chest heaving. "We fucked up! That's what the damn thing should say. They used words like 'unfortunate occurance', 'ill advised information'," he raged, then laughed sarcastically, "oh and I memorized this line , "...preliminary findings indicate that no incendiary devices were used in the attack."

"We haven't been able to determine what caused that explosion."

"You make me sick," Chris spat out in disgust to General Reinhardt, who spoke as he appeared in the doorway. "You and Kent both damn well know dynamite was used."

"General Kent has assigned a team of the most well trained..." the flushed General began.

"General Kent couldn't find his ass with two hands and a map." He turned away disgusted, "We've all seen how his fine plans evolve. I got dead people all over the fuckin' countryside, I got three friends lucky to be alive and that bastard comes out of this smelling like a rose. Jesus!" he kicked the door so hard the windows next to it rattled.

"Chris," Josiah stood, moving next to the nearly out of control leader. "Take it easy...Orrin and the General aren't the enemy, they didn't know either."

"The fact remains that the report that they both approved lacks vital facts and is shaded strongly to suit their purposes." Ezra added hotly, shoving his plate away.

"They covered their asses," Nate translated, thinking on the burned children he'd tended to. "...on the backs of those poor folks who died and worse. It stinks."

"That is does, Brother."

"Go ahead and file your 'official' report, General. Go back to Washington and wine and dine those overpaid senators to get more money for your fuckin' army."Larabee turned now, moving to put his face inches from the army man's. "I was there... I saw what happened and the truth will be published. I'll make damn sure of that. It's written in their blood... they deserve that much!" He noted of the dead."

"I'm sorry, Chris..." the General said bruskly, "I heard your friend has a serious head injury. I hope Mister Tanner.."

"Don't you fuckin' say his name," He raged, only Nathan's hands kept him mobile. "I'm sorry, too, sorry for a lot of things. Sorry for all those kids whose parents are scattered in pieces all over the county. Sorry for the poor bastards that Miles had to cut free..." He growled, swiping the spit that ran from his lip, he gripped Nathan's shoulder then, "and sorry for the living hell they put this man through."

"Chris..." Nathan flinched uneasily.

"It's okay, Nathan, I'm done." He turned away, "I'm outta here..."

"No, wait, Chris, we'll leave. Doctor Smith wants to speak with you all." Orrin rose, pausing briefly on his way out to extend his hand. It took a full moment and he felt the green eyes burning right through him, but the other returned it.

Miles heard most of the argument and waited five minutes before speaking. He sipped some coffee and fiddled with a biscuit.

"I just examined Vin and I'm sure Nathan told you his fever is rising. That might be a common occurance until he's fully healed. So will the upset stomach and raging headaches."

"What about his memory?" Josiah asked

"I don't know, Josiah," Miles admitted, "head injuries are difficult to diagnose. The wound he suffered was severe and in a delicate area. Coupled with the trauma of the train crash and his inner turmoil concerning the army, it would be enough to kill most men. THen in his delirium, he encountered the very beast who was responsible for slaughtering his family. I don't think I have to spell out the ramifications of that."

"Why can't he see Chris?" J.D. finally spoke, "I mean, he can see all of us, but he can't see Chris."

"He doesn't wanna see Chris," Nathan answered, "I think... out there in that desert when he found Garrett... something happened. He... was lost... hurt... fevered and he heard someone calling to him. ...he heard Teheno's voice 'cause he was lookin' for him."

"Well said, Nathan," Miles agreed. "I'd say for years, too many years, he's been carrying an unfathomable amount of guilt inside. He blamed himself for his failure to protect his family..."

"But he was just a kid and they beat him... tied him... how could he have done more?" J.D. blurted out.

"He couldn't J.D.," Ezra agreed, "...but that doesn't lessen the burden. I think the fact the Teheno perhaps gave him the responsiblity of 'watching and guarding' his wife and new son is the key. He never saw him again and feels perhaps, he failed his brother in the worst possible way. It left a gaping wound inside."

"So, that's why he sees Chris as Teheno," J.D. nodded, "but what if he never comes back. I mean, how's he gonna get better?"

For a few moments, no one spoke, until Ezra lightened the mood, "I certainly hope a solution is found, I don't think there is enough 'hibi' in this town."

"I have an idea," Miles eyed the silent blond, "but I don't think you'll like it, Chris."

"Let's hear it," Larabee turned to the doctor.

"You have to leave."

"No way," Chris denied, "that's out of the question."

"Hear me out, Chris," Miles continued. "As long as he clings to you as Teheno, he'll never heal. I'm not saying to desert him. Spend some time with him for the next couple days. Talk to him, take that pain away that's been eating at him all these years. Do you realize the opportunity you have here? As Teheno, you are the only person that can mend his soul."

Chris didn't reply, but he did mull over the physician's words. What he wanted and vowed to do when he found Vin in the desert, was just that. To take that pain away, let him breathe again.

"Chris, last night you said you knew a place...a special place," Josiah asked, "a place full of peace. Maybe... and it's just a thought, if in a few days, we take Vin there..."

"You remain behind and arrive several days later, hopefully, as Chris Larabee." Ezra finished.

"Oh, that's great!" Chris shoved his body from the table. "He's gonna look right at me and want Teheno. I went through that once... you weren't there... you didn't hear his voice..."

"You're getting too attached to him... who he was... it's time to let go," Ezra said. "His well being is at stake. Rest assured, Mister Larabee, we'll keep watch over him, until you return."

Nathan stood and walked to the window, wincing at the pain radiating off Chris Larabee's tense frame. He took a deep breath and laid his hand over the clenched fist.

"I know it's tearin' yuh'r guts up... man have to be blind not to see how much yuh care for that boy. But as much as the boy Vin needs Teheno, the man Vin needs his best friend. Bring him back, home, Chris."

Chris thought for a few minutes, thinking on every word each of them said. He thought of the young man he'd been priviledged to see over the last few days. A part of him envied Teheno, for being someone so pivotal in Vin's life. He closed his eyes, saw the youthful face in the desert that mimicked him that first night and smiled. They were right... it was time for Vin Tanner to come home.

Part Thirteen

In spite of the sluggish cloak covering his body due his injuries, the loud sound roused him. His head was throbbing and he opened his eyes, only to cry out as the daylight stabbed them. He felt like shedding his own skin, it was that uncomfortable. He was stripped to the waist and covered with a fine sheen of fever, which left his bandaged chest soggy. He sighed, then furrowed his face up, covering his ears. The thunder in the room was too loud and send pain through his head. It sounded like a wounded bear was next to his ear. With a final grunt of dissatisfaction, he peeled his eyes open.

"Hah!" he grumbled, pulling the sheet back and sitting up. He eyed the empty room and zoned in on the source of his discomfort. He stood on shaky legs, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Thankfully, the object of his pain was only a few feet away. He staggered unevenly, wincing as the pain in his leg flared up. He felt the floor rising and falling and stumbled, gripping the wooden pole at the end of the bunk. He held on tightly, before lowering his body down to sit on the edge of the bed. He winced and flinched his shoulders as the awful explosion of noise came out. He studied the situation for a moment, then pinched off the instrusive sound. Silence rained down, he smiled, then frowned. He couldn't sit here like this, pinching the nose. He waited a few more moments, deciding that was enough, he released his fingers. He peered down at the face closely, brows furrowed as air went in and out freely... silently! Happy with himself, he smiled and sat up, only to have the sound return even louder.

"Stop!" he hissed, clamping his fingers down again.

"'s'goin'... on?" Buck coughed, wondering what was wrong. Then he realized his nose was obstructed. He peered up at the irate face above him and shoved the hand away. "Vin! What the hell are you doing?"

"Stopping the thunder!" Vin complained, "...it's like a bear was growlin' in m'ear. All the winda's shook..."

"They did not!" Buck sat up, glaring at the intrusion on his sleep. "I don't snore!"

"I heard it!" Vin defended, poking the other man's chest. "Ya were sleepin'... how did ya not wake yerself up? I never heard such a sound..."

"You're full of..." Buck stopped, watching the blue eyes roaming. He didn't like what he saw. "Vin..." his eyes narrowed as the slim body stood up. "Get back in that bed... Vin... where you goin'? ...damn this leg!" He flustered, watching the half-naked Texan staggering into the kitchen. "Aw, hell... is there whiskey back there? Shit! Vin, get back here! Vin!"

Ignoring his friend's words, the curious patient crept into the well appointed kitchen. His wide eyes took in the shiny pots and pans, stacks of dishes and great black kettle. He moved around, exploring the cabinets and pulling out food. Bags of flour, sugar and grain were taken out. He opened a metal box and found bread and small cakes inside.

"Hah!" He crowed happily, eyeing a jar of jam nearby. He tore the bread up, spreading the sweet jam on it with his fingers. He shoved the cakes in next and then smacked his lips. The voice in the other room kept nagging him. He cursed his poor decision.

"...I should have left the bear in his den..." He decided "Quit hollerin' at me... I am fine."

"I'll bet!" Buck muttered, wincing as more cabinets banged open and shut.

He found a cup and was on his way for the water pitcher, when he spied a familiar object on a high shelf.

"Hibi!" He cried out, eyes watering. "Gai... No..." his head was mixed up and throbbing. He saw black spots and his forced breathing hurt his chest. He saw still for a moment, thinking on Nathan's words. He took small breaths in his nose and out his mouth. His eyes never left the bottle. He saw a bench that was near the tall cabinet. Maybe if he used it to climb onto the bottom shelf and if he stretched.

Both of Buck's shoulder's came up when the loud clanging, clashing, smashing of glass and metal shot forth from behind closed doors. Silence for a moment only.

"What the hell was that?" Josiah asked, following J.D. into the room.

Nathan and Chris were next, with Ezra slowly moving with his cane. They were halfway into the room, when a small, drawl slid under the kitchen door.

"Uh..oh..."

"Vin!" Chris clenched between his teeth, storming through the kitchen doors, Nathan on his heels. Both men stopped inside, eyeing the mess. Flour and sugar were spewn on the floor. An empty bottle of jam rolled into the pile of grain. Chunks of bread were being carted off by a rather busy duo of bugs. Pots and pans were scattered over the floor like bones. Two broken plates and a cluster of utencils completed the havoc.

"Vin!" J.D. squealed, peering over Ezra's shoulder.

"Jesus!" Chris bolted to the cabinet, where Vin was precariously dangling. His fingers were almost at the top, his feet were slipping, having sent the bench flying. They slid over the slippery counter, sending everything on it, onto the floor. His free hand grabbed Vin's waist and eased him down, with Nathan's help. They sat him on the now upturned bench.

"It's not m'fault!" Vin defended of the murderous look, before Teheno could speak.

"You're the only one in here!" Larabee raged, gripping his shoulder, "Whose fault is it?"

"Bucklin's!" Vin shot back, shoving the arms away. "Yer thunder is louder than his!"

"Thunder?" Chris quizzed.

"It woke me up!" The irate patient fought back, "I thought a bear was in the room... the winda's shook!"

"They did not!" Buck hollered through the open door, giving Erza, J.D. and Josiah a good laugh. "I don't snore!"

"Ya do too!" Vin shouted back, "...there were bells in m'ears..."

"Don't be twistin' this around, you little weasel!" Wilmington defended his honor.

"He's right, Buck," J.D. smiled, "You do sound like a lumber mill."

"Shut up, Kid, whose side are you on?"

"Enough!" Chris snapped, turning back to Vin. "Didn't Nathan tell you to stay in bed?"

"Yes, but..." Vin tried, only to be cut off.

"Then that's where you should be, not climbing shelves in the..." he paused, hearing Ezra's snicker. He followed the gambler's amused gaze upwards.

"It would appear he is quite a 'hibi' hound!" the southerner smirked, eyeing the whiskey.

"Vin!" Chris balled his hand into a fist.

"I did nothin' wrong..." he protested, wincing as Nathan checked his bandages. "If that bear hadn't growled so loud, I'd still be sleepin'. I got thirsty..."

"There's water in the other room!" Chris growled, pointing a finger, "You stayin' in that bed if I have to nail your hide to the frame!" He snarled, "Don't you have something to say to Ezra?"

"Did ya bring another present?" Vin's eyes widened, only to frown again when Teheno loomed in his path.

"Vin!" the gunslinger's hiss cut off the other's laughing.

"What?" Vin quizzed, squinting. His head hurt, his chest hurt and it was hot. It was hard to listen to Teheno's loud voice. "Yer voice's like a spear in m'head..."

"Then you better listen carefully, I'll talk very low," Chris said in a hard voice, "Ezra came over here yesterday and brought a gift for you. You thanked him by stealing his flask."

"I did not!" Vin defended, trying to squirm free.

"You drank all the whiskey out of it!"

"Aha..." Vin trumped, "see... I'm right. I didn't take it... I left it inside the rooster coat."

"Rooster coat?" Erza frowned.

"Furthermore," Chris directed, "you drank too much and ate too much chocolate. That made you sick and Buck thought you were choking. Do you know how serious his leg wound is? He could have..."

"Chris, don't..." Buck interjected. "It's water under the bridge. I'm okay."

"You're damn lucky!" Larabee turned, "If I hadn't come in and you had put weight on that leg, you'd have torn up all the work Miles did... you could have bled..."

"I'm sorry," Vin offered with a hushed rasp, dropping his face. Teheno was very angry and he was shamed.

"It's alright, Vin, apology accepted. I daresay you learned your lesson the hard way." Ezra offered.

"Nathan?" Chris asked, watching the tall man shielding Vin.

"He's okay... but he's too warm. I'm gonna have to cool him down again."

"Okay, let's go, Vin. You're getting back in bed and staying there!" Chris turned then, not seeing Vin stick his tongue out and make a face. He paused next to Ezra, who appeared to be choking. "You okay?"

"Never better!" Standish proclaimed, grinning like the others at the prankster.

"Come on, Vin, let's get yuh back to... Vin?"

"Uh-oh..." Vin's eyes bugged out and he gagged.

"Nathan, you best grab a pot, your raisin bread's about to come back at you." Josiah shook his head, watching Vin toss back his snack.

"All o'yuh clear outta here!" Jackson warned, "J.D. get me a wet cloth." He waited, then helped Vin get cleaned up. He got a mug of water in him and bathed him, watching the eyes now dull and listless. "Vin?" He waited until the face turned up and the eye blinked. "Yuh got a bad wound in yuhr head. If yuh don't stay in bed and rest, that pain won't go away and yuh'll keep throwin' up. Yuh don't like being sick, do yuh?"

"No," Vin whispered, "I'm sorry... I'll clean up..."

"No, yuh're gettin' back in bed. I'll bring yuh some tea..." He nodded to the sheriff, who had cleaned up most of the mess. "Can J.D. give yuh a hand?" He saw the head nod, "Good, yuh gonna stay put?"

"Yeah," Vin managed, limping back into the room. He stopped at Buck's bunk, his eyes glued to the bandage. "I"m sorry... Buck...lin. I didn't mean t'hurt ya..."

"I know that Vin," Wilmington smiled at the forlorn face, "Don't you mind Chr... Teheno growling at you, it's only cause he cares."

"...maybe..." Vin shook his head, climbing back into his bed, "...but I think it's because I make bees inside his head."

"Nah..." Buck winked, "you might fry his nerves now and again, but you mean the world to him, Vin. Don't you forget that, okay?" He saw Vin painfully turn sideways and nod. Then he turned back, then sideways again. "Can't get comfortable?"

"No..." Vin yawned, watching Nathan approach. "Did ya make more medicine?"

"Sure enough," The ex-medic announced, helping Vin to sip the herbal tea. "It's got some peppemint in it, should help that belly..."

"'s'good..." he agreed, sipping thoughtfully and watching Buck. "It's strong?"

"Yeah, why?" the healer wondered.

"It's more powerful that Bucklin's thunder?"

"Hey!" Buck teased, getting a small smile. It was strong and the blue eyes finally shut. He noticed Chris wasn't in the room. He saw the tense profile outside, a slight breeze lifted the blond hair. He saw so much conflict in that profile and had to turn away. "It's gonna tear him up..."

"Yup," Nathan agreed, feeling the heat rising on Vin's face. "Damn his fool self... J.D.!"

"Yeah?" a muffled voice replied, as a head popped through the door.

"Can you go to the store and..." Nathan paused, squinting. "What are yuh eatin'?"

"...cakes with jelly..." the youth replied. "Well they would have gone to waste..."

"Yuh just ate breakfast!" Nathan shook his head at the Bostonian's logic. "I need more rubbing alcohol."

"You want me to get more chickens?" Dunne asked, thinking on the need for broth.

"Yeah, thanks..." Nathan sighed, wringing out a cloth and laying it on Vin's forehead.

Two hours past, before Chris Larabee returned. Buck was up and dressed, sitting outside with his leg on a barrel. With every passing female admirer, the story of how he was wounded grew taller. Ezra was next to Buck, reading a book. He didn't know where the others were, save Nathan, who was at Vin's side.

"Yuh okay?" He asked, watching the pensive blond's face.

"No," Chris admitted, "but you're right. It needs to be done. I... did some thinking while I walked. I'll sit with him this afternoon. I'm gonna tell him I have to go away for a few days. I can't just leave without an explanation. He's strong enough to travel by wagon?"

"Depends on how far. Why?"

"Tomorrow morning, I'll have a wagon ready. You load Buck and Vin in the back. It's not far and if you start out early, you'll beat the heat of the day." He handed a slip of paper to the other man. "I took care of it. Josiah's familiar with the area, he studied in a mission there. It's nice there... peaceful and tranquil."

"Sounds like good medicine," Nate agreed.

"I hope so, Nathan, you both need it." He nodded in appreciation. "I'll be closeby, but he won't see me. I hope..."

"It's the right decision," Jackson answered the question lingering in the green eyes. "Well, if we're traveling in the morning, I got supplies to get and packin' to do. There's cold water in that jug. Tea simmerin' on the stove and a big pot of soup. Get some liquids in him, if he rouses. I'll be back in a couple hours."

"Okay," he settled in, his mind dwelling on Teheno. As he watched Vin sleeping, he wondered about the man who'd been such a vital part of Vin's life. What happened to him after the massacre? Did he look for Vin? Was he as torn up inside at the loss of a brother? Vin stirred and his eyes opened. Pain radiated there, the kind that nearly blinds you. He moved then, to the side of the bed. Vin was propped on on many pillows, giving his injured ribs relief. He saw the tongue snake out, investigating the dry lips. "Hold on, Vin." He held the cup and tipped it, giving the sated man a drink. "Better?" The damp head nodded.

"Nathan's medicine isn't strong enough..." Vin whispered, blinking as the red poker was pushed in and out of his head. He bit his lip and clenched his fist, but didn't give in. Tears of pain welled in his eyes, but they didn't fall. He had to show Teheno, he'd learned his lesson. "I... am... sorry... I disappoint..." He whispered, even talking hurt. "...I will show ya... we will ride... together... make ya proud..."

"Vin," Chris paused, every word like a bullet, only making his decision harder. He waited until the twin blue orbs of woe faced him. He rested a hand on Vin's chin, cuffing him lightly. "I'm proud of you everyday. You made some mistakes...I make a lot of them. But that doesn't mean I'm ashamed of you."

"I make bees come in your head."

"Well, I can't argue that," Chris chuckled at the serious face, "You got a fire inside, Tanner. You right things that are wrong. You stand up for what you believe in. You're loyal to your friends. You're very brave. There's a lot of things I've learned from you."

"Me?" Vin shook his head.

"Yeah, you," he gave the shoulder a pat and left for a moment, to get some tea. Despite the strong medicine, the eyes remained open. Chris could almost see the pain pulsing behind them. "Hurts pretty bad, huh?"

"...no hibi..." Vin sighed, not understanding the laugh.

"Vin, I want you to know how proud of I am of what you did for..." he paused, trying to pick the right words. "...my wife and s..s...on." He saw the eyes flicker then, and the lip tremble. "You stood up to a whole army, tried to protect them, even after you were hurt. You defended them with your life. I'd do it again..."

"No... I failed..." Vin sighed, "...I see her eyes..."

"I know," Chris gasped, looking away. He did know, he still saw Sara and Adam. He didn't want Vin to carry that weight anymore. He'd hidden it away far too long. "Look at me, Vin. In her eyes is how much she loved you. That's what you need to see, okay?" Vin nodded and his eyes were starting to shut. But he seemed restless and Chris saw something that might fix that. He rose, wrung out a cloth and laid in on Vin's head and took the object. "Vin, I have to go away for a few days. I'm leaving in the morning."

"No!" Vin panicked, "We will ride together. I can ride. I'll behave... I'll go with ya..."

"Damn," Chris cursed softly, flinching as Vin's hand tried to grab at him. "You can't go, Vin. You're too sick. Nathan and the others will be leaving with you in the morning."

"Leaving?" Vin frowned, "I don't understand..."

"There's a place I visted near here. It's called San Diego. It has beautiful flowers and trees. It has a golden beach and blue water...an ocean, Vin. Water as far as you eye can see. The air is sweet there and the sound of the ocean hitting the sand is very peaceful." He saw denial in the eyes.

"Why can't I go with ya?"

"I uh... have to uh... see... take care of my family... their final rest... journey..."

"I will go with ya!" Vin demanded, fighting back. "I will... follow... ya cannot stop... me..."

"No, you won't and I'll be back. I need a favor, Vin. An important one, it's about Nathan."

"Na..than?" Vin thought on the kind man and his gentle hands. Then he thought on the awful dreams.

"Yeah, you see Nathan thinks he's taking you there to get well. I need you to help Nathan get well. He needs that peace... the water... the salty air... the rest. Can you do that for me? It'll be our secret. By listening to Nathan, he won't worry about you so much. Then he can rest and get well, lose those bad dreams. You can do that for him, Vin. You can heal him."

"Na..than... needs me?"

"Yes, he does. He's taken good care of you. He saved your life."

"I will take care of him," He vowed, sticking his chin out."I will!" he decided, "...then we can ride together?"

"Yeah," Chris whispered, "I got something for you."

"A present?"

"Yeah, you keep it for me until we meet again, okay?" Chris paused and saw the damp head nod. "Remember that place I told you about, where the ocean meets the sand? It's very peaceful there, Vin, there's birds called seagulls who fly over the water, calling out to each other. A soft breeze comes off the water, the spray of the waves falls through the air..." He eased the conch shell next to Vin's ear. "Listen Vin, can you hear the ocean?"

"I can!" Vin sighed, listening to the gentle sound in his ear. "I can... s'magic..."

"If you get to missin' me, you close your eyes and listen to that sound, okay. You listen for my voice in there."

"...o...k...a...y..." Vin murmured, letting the soft call of the ocean lull him to sleep. By the time his hand fell limply onto the bed, the guardian's head was down. Vin was asleep, he didn't see the pain etched deeply on the brother's face.

J.D. and Chris ate breakfast early. The sun wouldn't be up for an hour yet, but the wagon was outside and ready for two passengers. J.D. ate uncomfortably, finally glad when the meal was over. He took the plate to the sink, rinsed it and lifted the coffee pot.

"Coffee, Chris?" He paused, still wondering why Chris was eating in here. They'd packed the wagon. Nathan was in Ezra's room. He'd changed Josiah's dressing and was giving the gambler one more hot herbal back treatment. The youth paused again, holding the pot over the brooding gunslinger's cup. He had yet to utter a word. When J.D. pulled the wagon up, he'd emerged from the shadows and pitched in silently. "Chris?" The eyes blinked and the head nodded once. He filled both cups and sat down. He knew the older man was worried about Vin Tanner. His wrinkled cloths and shadowed face belayed the fact he hadn't slept much the night before. "He'll be okay, Chris, I know he will. The cup paused halfway to the tense lips. The sleep-deprived eyes shifted over the stubbled face. Then the cup continued.

Chris put the cup down and pushed the nearly full plate away. The kid was trying... maybe too hard. He'd chattered away while they packed the wagon. He'd disappeared for five minutes and returned, with a full report on Ezra and Josiah. He'd made breakfast and was still talking. Chris sipped the dark brew again and sorted out the many thoughts going through his head. First, and most important, was for Vin to make a full recovery. Despite what the doctor thought, a fear still nagged at him. The 'what if' demons were poking his gut with hot spears. What if Vin didn't recover? What if he stayed lost in the past? What if when he saw him again in San Diego in a few days, Vin still saw Teheno? He sighed and shook his head, lighting a cheroot. Then there was Nathan Jackson. He'd been keeping himself much too busy and avoiding sleep. When he did sleep, the dark face was distressed. More 'what if' demons surfaced. What if when he did get a chance to breathe, when he wasn't so busy, he began to suffer again? How do you reach a pain like that. Then there was Teheno. The last nagging fear was something he'd thought on all night. A large 'what if' demon hovered. What if Teheno was still alive? What if he was tormented over losing Vin? What if he's suffered the same guilt Vin did?

"What if I kept riding that day?" he murmured of the day Fate cast the unlikely group together.

"Huh?" J.D. turned, "Did you..." he frowned, eyeing the empty chair. "Chris?" He peeked through the door, expecting to find the leader sitting by Vin, but the chair was empty. He cleaned up the remaining dishes and poured more coffee, dosing it with laudenum. He sat the mug by Buck's bunk, wincing at the loud sounds. He eyed Vin closely, wondering why the fiesty Texan hadn't complained all night. Peering closer, he saw small rubber plugs coming from his ears. He laughed and shook his head, returning to Buck. "Hey... Buck... Buck..." he shook the bare shoulder.

"Not now, Darlin' I'm wore out..."

"Some magnatism..." the youth chortled, "Wake up!"

"Huh? Denise..."

"Who?" J.D. did a quick mental calculation. That name didn't sound familiar.

"Nevermind," Buck yawned, scratched and sat up. "Dammit J.D. it ain't even sun up..." he growled, trying to roll over.

"Oh no you don't!" Dunne whipped around the bed. "You gotta get up and eat... Nathan's orders. Then I'm gonna help you get washed and dressed. The wagon's out front and..."

"You?" Buck frowned, "nothing personal, Kid, but you don't have the right parts to bath me. Where is everybody?"

"Nathan's getting Josiah and Ezra ready. Vin's still sleeping," he paused watching Buck frown, "Earplugs."

"...that sneaky little..." Buck paused, his eyes going from Vin's face to the empty room. "Where's Chris?"

"I don't know," the other admitted, heading to the kitchen. "He's acting funny... he looks awful. I don't think he slept all night. Hasn't said a word..."

"Damn," Buck said softly, running his hand through his hair. He glanced at the sleeping Texan who face was relaxed and the picture of innocence. "...earplugs..." he chuckled and shook his head.

The sun was up and they were assembled outside. Josiah and Ezra sat precariously on horses. Nathan argued with the gambler for over an hour to no avail. Standish maintained he 'would ride on a horse or not at all'. Nathan gave in, throwing his hands up in disgust. J.D. would be in the lead, Nathan driving the wagon toting Buck and Vin, with Sanchez and Standish in the rear.

Buck yawned again, feeling the effects of Nathan's fine hand. Although he'd turned down the first cup of coffee, he'd taken the second. He knew the road would be rocky and his tender leg would feel every jut and bump. He eyed Vin, who was sleeping again. The Texan roused briefly, ate some soup and drank a strongly doused cup of tea. Nathan changed all his bandages and using an army stretcher, they took the younger man outside. He was under the canopy in the back of the wagon, shielded from the sun. What worried him more, was the total lack of Larabee. He'd been missing since J.D. saw him before dawn.

"You ready?"

"Always, Stud, you know that!" He turned, relaxed and relieved as the voice emerged from the shadows in the side room. "I thought you'd say goodbye..." he eyed the empty spot where Vin had been sleeping. He saw the hollowed eyes flicker for a moment, eyeing the spot.

"...said goodbye last night..." Chris sighed, sitting on the bunk and pulling out a bottle. He took a small sip and offered it. "One for the road?"

"A little one, I'm already doped up..." Buck said, taking a sip. "What's eatin' at you, Chris?"

"I'm gettin' too old for this shit, Buck," he yawned, scrubbed a hand over his rough face and shook his head. "Worryin's better suited for a younger man's clothes."

"Then you wouldn't have them fine lines around your eyes that give you character."

"Fuck that," Chris smiled, eyeing the softened features on his close friend. "Stay close to him, Buck?" His voice was quiet and almost prayful. "The next few days might be rough..."

Buck lifted his face and smiled, nodded and extended his hand. "You got my word..."

"Wilmington's word as good as done," Chris teased of Buck's famous line. He stood, gave Buck's shoulder a single tug and moved to pass to the shadows again.

"You give him them earplugs?" Buck demanded, watching a small smile appear.

"Nope."

"Had to be Erza..." Buck decided, "I'm gonna get him for that... helluva'n insult... Chris?" He turned by found he was alone again. He sighed and cast his eyes heavenward. "How 'bout we make a deal? I'll keep and eye on the little blue-eyed bas... weasel," he corrected. "You keep the green-eyed one safe, okay?"

"Who you talking to, Buck?" Nathan asked, entering the room.

"An old friend," Buck replied, eyeing the wooden items the healer held. "Hey, crutches... You can't keep a Wilmington down for long."

"Yuh listen up!" Jackson warned. "I'm just fittin' ya with these, makin' sure they're high enough. Yuh ain't usin' them for some time. I catch yuh on these before I say so, and yuh'll be sorry!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Buck waved the warning off, letting the taller man help him stand. He eased his armpits over the crutches and tested them. "Hey, with a little practice, I can thwack Ezra and make it look like an accident."

"Just get movin'... once yuh're in the wagon, I get them back. Go on now..."

Finally the caravan was ready. The top half, where they were resting, was covered with a tarp. Buck was resting upright on a bank of pillows. Vin was in a simliar position, due to his injured ribs. He shifted as the wagon started to move, sliding sideways. His head landed on the larger man's shoulders.

"Well now isn't that a fine sight!," Josiah goaded, easily spotting the pair from where he rode behind the wagon.

"Pretty as a picture," Ezra agreed, needling the flustered Wilmington."You two make a lovely couple."

"Shut up Ezra, you're already on my shit list!" Buck hissed.

"Moi?" The finely attired gentlemen tapped his chest.

"Yeah you! I..." He paused and moved Vin back to his own half of the bedding. That lasted a bried scan of moments. The wagon shifted again and so did the sleepy Texan. His head nestled back on Buck's shoulder.

"Ain't he cute when he curls up like that, Ezra?" Josiah grinned again.

"Adorable." The reply came.

"Ezra, I swear to God!" Buck vented and frowned as something wet ran down his chest. "Hey, cut that out, don't be droolin' on me!" Buck protested, shoving Tanner again. He chuffed in frustration when the two men riding behind broke into laughter. "Nathan, are we there yet?"

"Buck, we ain't even out of town yet!" Jackson laughed, guiding the team to the edge of the city. He saw a brief nod as they passed the hotel. He was in the shadows, hidden from view. He looked awful. The healer's face froze for a moment as their eyes met. He returned the nod and then watched Chris Larabee disappear again.

Two hours went by, with Erza and Josiah teasing Buck unmercifully. Buck finally fell asleep, too tired to push Vin over, the sharpshooter's head was again resting on Buck's shoulder. Josiah and Erza were discussing theology, when a pair of panicked blue eyes peered out at them.

"So much for a peaceful ride," he noted, "Nathan, hold up a minute."

"Whoa... whoa there ...." Jackson reined the team in, "What's wrong?"

"Vin's awake and he can't seem to catch his breath. I don't think he knows where he is..." Sanchez hollered, then slid from his horse awkwardly. "Vin, you're okay, Son. You're in a wagon."

"Teheno!" Vin hollered, trying to crawl away. It was too close...there were boxes on one side and a body on the other. It was hot and he was thirsty and his head was on fire. "Teheno!"

"Jesus!" Buck sat up, his ear ringing. "What's wrong?"

"Vin, now calm down!" Nate knelt in the back, putting both hands up. "It's Nathan, yuh remember me, don't yuh?"

Vin didn't reply, he was blinking rapidly and sweating. His eyes flashed briefly to the canteen resting against the other man's leg.

"Buck..." Ezra said quietly and nodded.

"You thirsty, Vin?" Buck uncorked it and handed it over. "Not too fast... we got plenty."

Vin took a few small sips and eyed the faces again. He zoned in the dark-skinned man, whose brown eyes were so full of compassion. It came back then, in jagged pieces. He cried out and dropped the canteen, clutching his head.

"Easy, there," Buck took a cloth from Nathan and wet it, then pressed it to Vin's hand. "Wipe your face, you'll feel better.

He turned at the voice and obeyed, then more pieces fell into place. He remembered the man next to him. But the images he saw confused him. The smiling mustached man in a saloon playing cards. On a horse, riding next to him, firing a gun and sitting next to him on a street, talking softly with a smile. "Bucklin..." the word came out without any rhyme or reason. Trust. That word came too, without any reason.

"In the flesh," the concerned man replied. He saw the confusion and didn't know what to make of it. He shifted his eyes to Nathan who looked equally confused. "Vin, you know where you are?"

"No," Vin replied, eyeing the wagon. "a... wa..gon..."

"Yeah, that's right. Do you remember why?" Buck asked.

"Uh... uh... Te...he..." he stopped and shivered as he heard his brother's voice. His fingers crept around the object in his hand. His arms worked independently of his brain, and he pressed it against his ear. He sighed in relief, closing his eyes and listening to the peaceful sound. He heard his brother's voice then.

"I'll always be right here. I'll never leave you. Safe... peaceful... Nathan needs your help. Can you do that for me, Vin. Can you do that?"

"Yes," he sighed, as the memories returned. He slid the shell back against his chest and eyed the worried faces looked at him. He thought hard again, his eyes roaming to each face.

"They're my friends Vin... trust me... your friends too... trust... trust..." Teheno's voice repeated in his ear.

He felt uncomfortable then, not used to the new feeling. The edge of the canopy lifted, sending the sun directly into his eye. The pain was so sharp and intense, he nearly tossed up the water he'd consumed. He cried out, one hand kept his prized shell, the other pressed against the wound. "...Na..than... make it stop..."

"Dammit! You didn't give him enough!" Buck said sharply, as the healer eased his tall body next to the smaller Texan. "He could of had mine."

"I gave him all I could, he don't weigh as much as yuh do. Any more and he'd be sick..." He turned to J.D. who was leaning inside. "J.D. pour some tea from that jar..." he took the mug and nudged Vin's lips. The tracker was curled against his chest, his jaw clenched in pain. "Open up, Vin, I got medicine." He frowned when Vin stopped after one sip. "Somethin' wrong?" He saw the keen blue eyes darting to the jar J.D. was sealing. "There's plenty more..."

"For Bucklin?" Vin asked, leaning back against his pillows.

"I'm okay, Vin, I don't need anymore." Wilmington soothed.

"Good. I'll sleep without hearin' the thunder again."

"You little snake!" Buck hollered, over the laughter of his friends. "I'm sittin' here feeling sorry for you. Huh!" He turned away, mocking anger. Finally, Vin was done. The light peeking in made his eyes hurt too.

"Shut yuh eyes, the sun's too strong!" Nathan said, pressing a cold cloth over the sharpshooter's eyes. "Better?"

"Yeah," Vin sighed, pulling the cloth away from one eye and peeking out of the wagon. "Ezra?"

"Yes," Standish moved forward on his horse, craning to see the other's face.

"I'm sorry fer callin' ya a rooster." He winced, flexing his hand over his bad leg. He blinked his eyes again, moving the cloth. "Are ya there? It hurts t'see."

"I'm right here," the gambler frowned.

"I smell a rat," Josiah grinned.

"He tipped his hand," Standish agreed, but wanted to see Vin play it out. "Is there someway I can accomodate you?"

"Huh?" Vin squinted, hearing Nathan laugh.

"He wants to know if he can help yuh," the healer translated.

"Oh," Vin nodded, licking his lips. "...road's kinda rough..." he eyed Standish's jacket, looking for bulges. "...medicine left a bitter taste in m'mouth," he cast doe eyes at the other. "...ya got another present tucked away in there?"

"No!" Nathan said, shaking his head, as the others laughed. "Yuh got no shame, Vin Tanner. Yuh're belly ain't ready for more chocolate yet."

"Aw, hell!" Vin wrinkled his nose, pouted and furrowed his brows. He didn't see the others exchange a hopeful glance. It was the first time since before the accident that the tracker's favorite cuss came out.

"Not to worry," Ezra soothed. "I'll procure more as soon as we arrive."

"Huh?" Vin cocked his head and heard Buck laugh hard.

"He'll buy more candy when we get to San Diego," the rogue gently pressed the tracker back onto his pillows. "We're good Nate." He issued, "get them blue eyes closed... go on now..." He ordered, relaxing as the wagon gently rocked again. He was almost asleep himself, when the head hit his shoulder again. "No, get on your own side and quit spittin' on me."

"I didn't spit!" Vin mumbled, swiping his mouth in his sleep and settling back. He didn't hear a reply and finally drew his eyes open. He saw the hand first. It was covering the bulky bandage on the pants leg that was cut off. He followed the arm upwards, until he saw the face. He almost wished he hadn't. The eyes were jammed shut, sweat poured down and the jaw was clenched in pain. He frowned, fought hard to stay awake and moved his arm.

The hot pain came unexpectedly, as the wagon his a rut in the road. It seem to grow in the next few minutes, sending white hot flames up his leg. He felt tears burning his eyes as the fire intensified. Then he felt something press against his ear. He opened an eye and saw Vin's arm. The blue eyes were fighting hard to stay awake. Clutched in the hand, which pressed against his ear, was the prized conch shell. Their eyes met then. He opened his mouth to speak, but Vin beat him to it.

"Close yer eyes," the younger man recalled his brother's words the night before. "If ya listen, ya can hear the... the..." he panicked, what was it called? "Aw, hell... uh... hear... the..."

"...ocean?" Buck rasped, moved by Vin's gesture.

"Yeah!" Vin's voice rose in boyish relief. "...it'll take yer pain away... Teheno told me so... he wouldn't lie. Ya keep it s'long as ya need it... daga..."

"Daga?" Buck murmured, resting his eyes.

"Uh...uh...close friend...better friend?...that ain't right..."

"It's just right, Vin Tanner," Buck eased with that special tone only he possessed. "and thank you. It is helpin' my leg. How 'bout if we share, okay?" He asked, watching the eyes slide shut. "Vin?" He smiled then as the head bobbed and he moved the shell, just as the head hit his shoulder. He didn't shove it away this time. He nestled the conch against Vin's ear.

"Te..he..no..."

Buck sighed deeply when the soft whisper came out. He closed his own eyes, letting the wagon lull him to sleep. He hoped this special place Chris Larabee found for them, would bring the miracle they needed.

"Thank you, that'll be all," the man nodded, finally able to stand and stretch. He winced and rubbed the kinks from his back. He'd been up late the night before and now was paying the price. "It used to be I could go for days with little rest. Oh that youth is wasted on the young."

"I'll drink to that."

He turned at the voice. The young man stood in the doorway, twirling his hat on his finger.

"The guard said it was okay to come in, but if you're busy..."

"No, please stay," He poured the Irish Whiskey into two glasses and moved forward, handing one to his unexpected visitor.

"Thanks," he took the offered glass and sipped it carefully. He took a deep breath and brought his head up. "I have a favor, Sir, if you're not too busy."

"Not at all, Chris, join me for a private lunch?"

"Thanks," Larabee nodded, following President Ulysses S. Grant into the ante room of his hotel suite.

Part Fourteen

The lazy afternoon sun yawned, sending a cascade of brilliant rays onto the weary team. Her brother the sea shouted in triumph at their arrival, gifting them with a lungful of salt air. Tall palm trees lined the busy street near the town square. Children chased dogs, laughing and rolling hoops. Mothers prattled away, pushing prams with snoozing infants. Brash businessmen lingered behind pristine glass, sealing deals and preparing future negotiations and Nathan Jackson felt his soul breathe for the first time in weeks.

He pulled the team on a side street across from the City Park. A trio of fountains sent water babbling over ivory statues. Flowering trees and shrubs boldly welcomed him, their bosoms displayed proudly in red, yellow, white and lavender hues. He was so swept up in the harmony that rocked into his body, he didn't see his friend approach.

"Nathan? Nathan?" Josiah grinned at the large brown eyes sweeping over the pretty vista. "She sure is a tempting lady..." he noted of the beautiful seaside community.

"I'll say," Jackson finally spoke. "How far?"

"Just a few miles up the road. You want to stretch a few minutes? You've been up there for hours " The preacher rubbed his eyes. "Father Colon isn't expecting us for an hour yet," he said of the gregarious priest, an old friend of his father's. The padre resided at Mission Santa Maria, a beautiful adobe church near La Jolla Cove. With Josiah's help, Chris arranged for the group to stay at a small guesthouse, used by visiting clergy. It was at the edge of the cove, overlooking the sapphire water and golden sand.

"I better check on Buck and Vin," He sighed and climbed down, rubbing the small of his back.

"They're sleeping, Nate, go on and take a few minutes, I got it covered," J.D. tied his horse to the back of the wagon and approached a vendor. The old man had a cart loaded with meat and cheese baked in pastry. The youth bought several, giving one to Ezra, who was seated on a bench and Josiah as well.

"Delicious," Ezra noted, biting into a colorful blend of peppers, chicken and chedder.

"Josiah?" J.D. handed the preacher one and one to the driver. He then poked his head in the back of the wagon. Buck was awake, sweating profusely in the hot wagon. J.D. eyed Vin, who wet head was plastered to his face and nestled on the rogue's shoulder. The youth made a motion to move the sharpshooter, but the other man shook his head.

"Leave him be," Buck whispered, not wishing to rouse Vin, "Get me a drink? Anything cool." He sighed and wiped his face, wincing at the pain throbbing in his leg. Where was Ezra's flask when you needed it? He was in mid-flinch, when a voice sauntered into the wagon.

"I've seen fitter corpses." The gambler leaned in gingerly and handed his silver flask to the suffering soul.

"Thanks, Ace," Buck coughed, taking a good swig. "Why we stopping?"

"Nathan needed a break, we're in the town square. It's not far to our destination, a cottage on the grounds of a large mission. It's run by a friend of Josiah's."

"Not soon enough for me, my butt's numb."

"Your brain, you mean," Ezra imparted with a grin, getting a soft laugh. He moved aside when J.D. appeared, bearing a bottle of cold water. Buck was nearly done, when Nathan's face appeared.

"I'm okay," the sore rogue managed, gently easing Vin to the other side. "Shoulder's numb... he's a heavy little bugger."

"It's all that hair!" J.D. teased.

"Josiah says it's only twenty more minutes or so, Buck. Soon as we get there, we'll get yuh cooled off and in a soft bed," the healer noted, eyeing Buck's leg.

"Alone?" Buck wrinkled his nose, then turned to the sly southerner. "Ezra... how 'bout we explore the finer drinking establishments in town tonight. I'm sure a place like this gets lots of beautiful women."

Before the gambler could reply, the healer did, "No, don't even try to argue..." he felt the heat on the skin through Buck's bandage on Buck's thigh. "After I clean this and redress it, yuh won't be in any shape to move around."

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of a large, Spanish style building. It was typical of the architecture of the day and it's thick walls shielded the interior from the harsh heat. There was a large wishing well out front and a tower housing an anciet bell. A small, wiry man with a kind face, brown robes and a warm smile was waiting out front. His thick brown hair streaked with white and close cut and his eyes were nearly black. He nodded to Nathan and opened his arms to Josiah. The preacher was riding on the seat next to Nate and climbed down, dwarfing his host.

"Hello Paulo, how are you?"

"I am well, old friend, and you? How long has it been?"

"Too long, fifteen years at least." Josiah pulled back. "I'd like you to meet some of my friends. This is Father Paulo Colon, he studied with my father overseas. He's travelled all over the world and for the last five years, he's called this place home." Josiah made the introductions, filling the host in on the injuries. "How far to the cottage?"

"Just down the cliff path, your wagon is too wide. I have a burro and cart that will suffice. Miguel has him ready. The cottage is fully stocked and you are welcome for as long as you wish. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask me or Father Javiar, he's in town visiting the sick today. Miguel and his wife work here, cooking and tending to the grounds. You'll meet Maria later, she's preparing a welcome feast for all of you. We'll bring it to the cottage and eat on the beach. Ah, here's Miguel now."

"Now that's what I call a cottage," Buck exclaimed as the pulled up. The sprawling bungalow was of pure heart redwood with cedar shingles. Large windows spanned the front, peeking over a wrap around veranda the covered the entire house. A cluster of steps, painted white and bearing flower pots gave the stairway to the sea a rainbow effect. At the end of the short stairway was a gorgeous expanse of golden sand kissing a cerulean sea. Gulls called overhead, swooping down at the fish in the surf. Seal lions barked from rocks clustered at the far end of the beach. The salt air was full and lusty, each breathful giving an invigorating feeling.

"A jewel, Mister Wilmington," Ezra marveled at the glorious seaside home and it's breathtaking surroundings. "an absolute treasure."

"Just inside the front entry is a large living area, a walk in pantry and huge kitchen," the priest explained. Facing the beach are three bedrooms, all with entry to the veranda. "It's quite alluring at night, the call of the sea. When the stars are out it will take your breath away."

"I don't doubt that, Padre," Buck hissed, standing for the first time all day. His arm was around Nathan's shoulders and Miguel's.

"Below ground is a wine cellar and a roman bath..."

"You're kidding!" Ezra blurted.

"No, this home was privately owned before we bought the grounds and built the mission. The owner had a home in Italy and insisted on it. It's rose marble eight feet on each side and hot water is pumped in through a generator. There's a superior drainage system that allows for easy circulation. It's quite spectacular."

"I may never leave..." Buck joked, letting the two men lead him inside. "Right there's good, thanks..." he sighed, sitting down on the edge of a large double bed. The bed next to it was a single bed. It was the largest of the three rooms, sporting a table and four chairs in one corner and a large window next to the single bed. The air that swept through the room was intoxicating. "Put him in here, Nathan!" Buck hollered, seeing Vin's body approaching. He never stirred as Nathan undressed him, cutting the soaking clothes off his body. Buck shucked his clothes, careful of the injured leg and used the large basin of cold water to clean up. By the time Nathan bathed and changed Vin, pulling a sheet up to this shoulders, he was ready.

"Hmmph!" the healer's mouth twisted, upon cutting the bandages free. The area around the thigh wound red and hot to the touch. "I'm gonna have to clean it... it's gonna hurt..." By the time he was done, Buck was ready for a painkiller. Josiah entered the room then, bearing a tray.

"Buck, you look like hell," he teased, upon seeing the pain, sweating face.

"You couldda lied," Wilmington sent back, trying to ignore the waves of burning pain in his leg, radiating to the bone. He managed to get half of the platter down, a full selection of meat, cheese, fruit and bread. He drank all of the cider, which Nathan doused. By the time Josiah and Nathan were done lunch, both patients were sound asleep.

"Go on, Nathan, you look beat, you had a long morning and a rough night. I'll keep an eye out."

"Okay," the weary and aching man agreed, 'Yuh know where to find me..."

Josiah took his bible outside onto the porch, settling into the large chair outside Vin's window. He read for awhile, casting his eyes now and again onto the sleeping Texan. He wondered what road was ahead for Vin Tanner and if he'd be strong enough to weather the storm. He watched the waves cresting the beach, listened to the gulls and felt the kiss of the sun. At the outside of his glance, the beach curled up into sandstone cliffs. If there was a place for his friends to heal, it was here.

The burnt amber and glowing orange light in his room drew his eyes open. It was nearly sunset, the departing day stroked his stubbled face as she left. He squinted, sat up and ran a hand over his rough-hewn skin. Sighing, he rose and walked to the window. The streets were crowded, spilling over with a blend of calvary and citizens. A youthful voice rose above the others and he cocked his head, then realized it wasn't J.D.Dunne. He wasn't here, none of them were. His belly burned for whiskey to fill the empty feeling inside. He didn't need a mirror to see the haggard creature that would look back . He eyed the bathhouse and gathered up his things. He needed a bottle of whiskey, a thick steak and a hot body. Tonight he wanted to lose himself, to fall into the numbness that was creeping in his bones. Tomorrow, when the sun rose, he'd follow the path to salvation, he hoped, for himself and Vin Tanner. But tonight, he would seek out other outlets to satisfy the jagged need.

An hour later, he strode from the bathhouse. He was well scrubbed, clean shaven and hungry. He entered the saloon and took a back table. The blackboard above the end of the bar listed specials. He ordered a steak, rare and bloody and a new bottle. As he ate, he heard the laughter and buzz of conversations around him. Twice he looked up, hearing a southern drawl and almost expecting to see the dusty tracker. Despite the assurances of the doctor and the support of his friends, he still worried. What if Vin never got better? What if Teheno was all he'd ever see? He stared at his hands and wondered how to use them more effectively. How do you reach inside a man's soul?

"Nothing more of a waste than a man brooding," A sultery voice slunk into his ear. Two hands followed, creeping down his collarbone from behind and under his shirt. The skilled fingers teased his chest and the the hot breath danced in his ear. A tangy, exotic almost oriental scent clung to the ripe curves pressing against his back. "...especially something as fine looking as you. Why don't bring that bottle upstairs and let Savannah Rose take those frown lines from the handsome face?"

He inhaled the scent, accepted the pliant body when he stood and she kissed him deeply. She ran her hands down the sides of his well honed chest and lightly stroked his backside. Then his urge rose, defiantly, betraying his face. Her smile came at that, revealing perfect white teeth inside a very pretty face. Two large blue eyes and a long drape of chestnut hair. She pressed against him again , her fullness spilling out over a low cut yellow garment. Right now, he needed to forget. The fire inside was stoked to high, the flames building to a powerful fury. He had a need... a hunger... a pain to squelch. He needed a body, with peaks and curves in all the right places. He needed someone to ride the night with, he didn't want to be alone.

"What'll be, Sugar?" she traced the outline of his jaw with one finger. She felt the power oozing from every lean muscle in his body, as he pressed past her. He didn't reply, he took the bottle and walked upstairs, pausing at the top to nod slightly. She followed, like a cat licking cream. She grinned boldly at her friends, who were green with envy. They were forced to smile at every sorry fondle the less that spectacular selection of male animals in the room. She'd couped a thorougbred. It would be a move she'd never regret and a night she'd never forget.

By the time the sky turned deep blue, with rose and magenta streaks, they gathered on the beach. Miguel and his wife set up two large tables, one bearing food and the other to sit and dine. A soft breeze touched down, the waves, dark and angry now, stroked the cool golden sand.

J.D. stood apart from the others, his hazel eyes following the beach up to the lighthouse. It was beautiful here, the sun reflected on the water like liquid gold. The gulls cawed and the sea lions accompanied them loudly on bass, over the pounding surf. It reminded him of Cape Cod and the summers he'd spent with his mother. So long ago...he heard a small boy laughing, tugging at a woman's hand. Like her son, she had dark hair, but here eyes were dark brown. Her accent still bore traces of her Dublin birthplace. He inhaled and watched the image fade, the little boy was long grown and the loving woman cold in the grave, much too soon.

"You okay, Son?"

"Huh?" J.D. blinked, "Oh, yeah, Josiah, just thinking of home. I grew up in Boston, not far from the Cape... it brought back some memories. My mother liked the sea..."

"She's a terrible beauty," Sanchez agreed, "Too many men disrespect her and end up in her belly."

"You sailed across the Pacific?"

"No, the Atlantic. Traveling with my father." He paused, recalling himself at the youth's age. "England, France, Spain, Italy, India, Thailand, parts of Africa and Asia. Years ago... seems like a hundred now."

"Where's you father now?"

Josiah smiled before replying. "Dining at the Lord's table... cholera... thirty years ago."

"Okay, Nate, it's fine," Buck hissed impatiently, eager to be loose. He was washed, dressed and ready to roll. "How them things gonna work on sand?" he nodded to his crutches.

"They're not." Nathan Jackson replied distracted. He paused next to Vin Tanner's bed. The slim sharpshooter hadn't moved since they arrived. "I gotta get some water in him... food too if he can tolerate it. Buck?"

"Yeah, gimme a hand," Wilmington let the taller man help him over to the chair next to Vin. He eased into it and waited.

"Vin... Vin... wake up now..." Jackson sat on the edge of the bed, facing the propped up patient. He gently tapped the slack face, until the eyebrows furrowed. "That's it... get them eyes open... I got some cold fruit juice for you. It's real sweet... Vin?" He stopped when the eyes slowly opened. The scowl lingered and the confused blues slowly went from his face to Buck's.

"Hey, Slick, how you feeling? Here, this ought to wet the whistle." Buck held the mug out and a wobbly hand took it. "Careful now, not too fast..." He paused as the eyes regarded him lazily over the top of the mug. A soft gasp concluded the drink. "Want some more?" The head nodded once and the hand shot out, handing the mug to Nathan. "How you feeling?"

"gizhaa..." He moaned, he was sure there was a spear in his head. He tried to get at it, only to have his wrist grabbed.

"Nuh-uh..." Wilmington called, "Nathan just loaded that with car... uh... medicine. It's gettin' some air. Best not to touch it. How's your stomach? You want some soup?"

What he wanted was for them to leave him alone. He didn't want to hear the kind words. It was hard to look at the mustached man's eyes and not be tempted. There was compassion there and worry. His eyes shifted to the dark-skinned man bearing a tray. He heard his brother's voice. Teheno trusted him to help this man. He wouldn't fail. He looked into those dark eyes and saw pain. "Bad visions... Na...than?" he gasped, his throat still dry.

"Not so bad, Vin, thanks," his voice was genuine. He set the tray down and pushed a small bowl of chicken broth and a gathering of crackers. Also on the tray were herbal iced tea and some more juice. "Eat what yuh can, but yuh need to try."

He lifted the spoon, despite the churning stomach. He felt their eyes on him , as he forced down a spoonful of broth. He scowled again, feeling hemmed in.

"I'm not a baby..."

"I know that, Vin," Buck said, seeing the eyes flash. Not wishing to disturb him, he shifted in the chair. "I'm gonna go get something to eat, then I'll come back. If you need anything, you just holler," he nodded to the window at Vin's elbow. The shaggy head nodded and dropped, the hand lifted the fruit juice.

Nathan got Buck to the table, where he was greeted by the others gathered. He returned inside, hoping to coax some more food into Vin. He pretended to be taking inventory on his supplies, which were on a table by the bed. He saw the tray moving and turned. The juice was down and a few spoons of soup had been taken.

"I'm sorry," Vin sighed, rubbing his eyes, "M'belly is full of jumpin' frogs again... with hot spears."

"Okay, don't force it..." He took the tray away and laid a hand across Vin's forehead. It was a little warm. "I'm gonna leave the ice tea, in case yuh want a drink."

"Na...than...I tried..."

"I know yuh did," Jackson smiled, watching the blinking eyes. "Close 'em if they hurt." He waited, easing a pillow from behind Vin to lower him a bit. "Yuh call me if yuh need me." He waited a few moments, until the injured man's lower jaw dropped a bit, parting his lips slightly. He'd been in this position long enough to know that sign. The tracker was asleep.

"Gentlemen?" Ezra's voice called and then turned, joining their friends. Chicken, fish, shrimp, many types of bread, fried potatoes, rice fried with peppers and onions, fresh vegtables and lots of fruit. So much food and pitchers of Sangria.

"Nathan?" J.D. asked, when the healer finally joined them. "Anything?"

"No," the dejected man sat down. "He's homesick and heartbroken. He didn't eat a thing, took me fifteen minutes to get a little juice in him. He's in a lotta pain, too, can't keep his eyes open, head hurt too much."

"Josiah tells us that you knew him as a younger man," Ezra broke the uncomfortable silence. Their host had gone to a lot of trouble to arrange the dinner, it would be rude to ignore him. "Did you travel together?"

Father Colon told of his travels around the world. As dinner progressed, he explained of the exotic ports he'd called home. He studied in universities around the word, as he spread the Lord's message. Just as the colorful priest was engaged in an animated tale of Josiah and a stubborn bull in Spain, Buck turned to get more Sangria and wish he hadn't.

The laughter woke him up, a musical sound far to light for his heavy heart. Pain. An agonizing, boiling mess of hurt was throbbing in his skull. He smelled food. Normally, his mouth would be watering. But not tonight, he felt sick. He managed to peel his eyes open and saw a brilliant, almost turquiose sky. It only added to his heavy heart, for it was the same color as the medallion that Teheno wore. The laughter came again, carried on the salt air. The air cooled his hot face and he pulled himself up. He watched them for a few moments, then cast a curious eye to the beach. He picked up his shell and held it to his ear. His brothers words were still there, the tone matching the restless surf.

"I'll never leave you. I'll always be right here. I'm proud of you... proud... proud... never leave..."

He sighed heavily and gently placed the shell on the table. He thought on his promise to his brother. To take are of Nathan. Nathan had a terrible beast inside, Vin had seen it with his own eyes. He remembered the kind man's eyes full of pain, as they told of the broken and dead bodies he saw. He thought on the bad dreams and got an idea. He eyed the bandages on his chest and unpelled a long row. That would be enough. A strange sounding bird called in the sky and he turned to follow it. Then they laughed again and he felt a dagger in his chest. They were nice to him, but they were strangers. His family... grandmother, grandfather, uncles, aunts, his sisters and brothers were all dead. He rubbed the throbbing head and missed his grandmother's touch. She always knew how to take his pain away. His jaw trembled as the pain crushed his heart. That's when the one called Bucklin looked over at him. He saw pain in those eyes and hesitated. Then the large man's hand came up and he felt the warmth in the word spoken. .

"Vin," the name died in a whisper on his lips. For a split second, the lost Texan's face appeared in the window next to his bed. The eyes were clouded by pain, large and solemn. The face was cloaked in melancholy and longing. There was a need in those pale blue eyes; the younger man was desperately searching. Buck raised his fist over his heart. "...hainji... Vin..." he mouthed and saw the tracker repeat the physical movement, but his lips never parted.

"Buck, I'll fill that," Father Javiar, moved to get the cup lingering near Buck's hand.

"Thanks," the injured man said, darted his head to see the window. It was empty again and the wine soured in his stomach.

Vin covered his own heart and turned away. He drank a cup of the tea that Nathan left and unraveled the cotton from the bandage, beginning his gift for Nathan. His deft fingers worked well and he quickly completed his task. Feathers. He had no feather. He eyed the knife the man used to cut the bandages and cut off a lock of his hair, adding it to the gift. Happy with his job, he slipped it under his pillow. He couldn't keep his eyes open, it hurt too much. The combination of sounds: anxious waves, laughing men and calling birds should have been restful. But sleep eluded him. Not wishing to worry the kind man, his eyes drifted to the tray. He moved a little, enough to get the bowl. He ate the soup and crackers. It didn't take long to realize his mistake.

The sun was down and tiny lanterns, painted with bright colors, get the table a festive glow. Cakes, cookies and flan, with strong coffee were being digested. They'd been taking turns checking on Vin.

"I'll go," Josiah said, walking up the colorful steps to the door to Vin's room. He frowned, turning up the lamp inside the door. Vin's bed was empty and missing linen. "Vin?" He said and his nose wrinkled. "Oh no.." He moved around the bed and saw Vin sitting on the floor. If the situation wasn't so desperate, he would have laughed at the face that looked up. Like a child caught stealing. The eyes were large and fearful. The soiled linen was next to the sprawled figure.

"I tried... not t'..." Vin rasped, his face hot. "...I... I... throwed up... in... the... the... thing..." he pointed to an odd shaped bowl that had previously held fruit. "..b...b...ut... it came out... the... other way... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"I'm sorry that you got sick," Josiah said gently, taking the soiled linens and putting them in the hallway. "Vin, you didn't do anything wrong. It's not your fault." He eyed the empty tray. "I though Nathan said you weren't up to eating?"

"I... he... was... worried... didn't want... Na...than... t'worry... over... me..." Vin hushed, feeling embarrased. "...can't do nothin' right... no wonder... Te..hen...o... left... me..."

So that where it was coming from. Josiah bit his lip and took a deep breath. He sat on Buck's bed and rested a hand on the slumped shoulder. "He didn't leave you, Vin. Don't lose your faith in him, without that, you have nothing."

"Faith?" Vin lifted his throbbing skull, blinking at the blurry man's leg.

"Yeah, believing with all your heart in something, when you can't see it. That feeling inside, that keeps you going, like a bright light."

"A fire..." Vin thought aloud, of the feeling he got when Teheno was gone.

"Sometimes," Josiah nodded. "as long as you feel that fire, he'll be here. You let that go out, you lose it all." He waited, gave the shoulder a pat and rose. He dunked a towel in water and handed it to Vin, watching as the younger man wiped his face. "How'd you get down there?"

"...I... took... the mess... from... the bed... I... the floor was moving... I tried..."

"It's okay, I'll get Nathan and..."

"No!" Vin panicked, jumping up and crying out when the pain hit his head, chest and leg at the same time. One strong arm got him to the chair. "No... it's my job... I can't fail... please..."

"What?" Josiah frowned, using his body to block Vin. He'd felt the hot skin when he lifted him. A fever? "...a job. What are you talking about?" He moved his head and caught Buck's eye through the window. One nod towards Nathan was all it took.

"Nate, something's wrong..." Buck tried to stand.

"Sit down!" Ezra commanded, shoving Buck's shoulders. "On two legs you're a menace."

"Josiah?" Nate strode through the door and paused. He smelled it before the eyes looked up.

"He got sick... both ways..." the preacher said. "...tried to clean it up himself and fell." He saw the alarm in the dark eyes. "He's okay... he's hot though."

"I was afraid of that," the healer moved, kneeling in front of the dropped head. "Vin?" He felt the back of the neck, it was very hot. "Damn... stomach pains still bad?" The head nodded once. "Okay, I got somethin' that'll help. Let's get yuh cleaned up." He nodded for the other man to leave, sensing Vin's discomfort. He lowered the window covering and set about fixing the situation. Finally, Vin was clean and back in bed, resting on fresh linen. Nathan bathed him in alcohol water and it helped a little. Mixing a few drops of tinture of opium in some water, he held the cup out. "This will help that mess... slow things down..." He watched as the trusting soul drank it all. He pulled the sheet, then the window covering, chuckling at the concerned faces staring in at him. He tapped Vin's watching the eyes fighting to stay open. "Yuh see that worry they're wearin', that's cause yuh're family, Vin."

Vin's half-lidded eyes went from Nathan's to the window. From the fog he was descending into, he heard his name being called. It came in different accents, some tones deeper than others. It came with the salt air and he breathed it in. He felt Nathan moving close, and fought to clear his vision.

"Yer all fuzzy..." He croaked, then heard a laugh, "'sfunny?"

"Nothin', Vin," he replied, watching the blue eyes narrowing. Then he saw the slim hand moving towards the pink shell. "Yuh want that?" He made a move to get it and paused, fingering the item next to it instead.

"It's fer... yer bad visions... t'stop 'em... ya... ya..." he stopped, he was dizzy and so tired. "...hang it... over... sleep mat... no... bad... dreams...it'll catch 'em."

"A dreamcatcher," Nate choked, eyeing the knots and carefully threaded strands of cotton, It was about four inches across and resembled a netted spider web. He'd seen them before at the Seminole Village. Usually they had feathers adorning them as well. His fingers brushed against the strands of light brown hair tied to the side. For a few moments, his chest was constricted and he couldn't speak. This Vin, a lost boy among a group of well meaning strangers, had reached out in his darkness. This Vin, who was mourning for his family and grasping at a ghost of a brother, had opened his wounded heart.

"I made it..." Vin said proudly, "it's fer... ya keep it... help... ya... fight..."

"Thank you, Vin," he said with genuine sincerity, gripping the younger man's shoulder. "Gifts from the heart, like this, are the best gifts of all. I ain't never seen the likes of it. It's beautiful, Vin."

"...ya... like it..." Vin smiled, eyes shining. "...I'm on... job... not... worry..." he sighed, his heavy eyes closing.

"Job?" Nathan cocked his head, frowning. "Must be that fever..." he carried the treasure outside, pausing to show his gift to his friends. "I think I'll take a walk." He wandered down to the rocks, watching the water rage over them. He eyed the silver moon and listened to the wind. His large hand kept the delicate gift safe, over his heart. Maybe, just maybe, Chris Larabee had found the answer to their prayers.

Like silent thieves in the night, they came and stole into his innermost thoughts. He tossed his wet head restlessly, eyes darting under pale lids. His brows drew together and his lips formed a soft moan. He didn't understand this place. It wasn't his village or the new place, the beach. It was a strange town with strange people, white people talking at him, waving and smiling. Then the image shifted to his village and his dead family. They rose up and stared at him, covered in blood and holding their scarlet-tinged hands to him.

" Gai... gai..." he called out, denying their hateful eyes. Then he saw her, his beloved grandmother. Surely she would open her arms. "Hutsi... hutsi..." he called out, stumblig on numb legs. Thunder roared and lightning split the black sky, spilling red rain. "Gaaaaiiiii..."

"Vin!" Buck sat up, hearing the earsplitting wail and shaking off his own stupor. It was the middle of a the night. He fumbled with the low lamp, turning it up and seeing the sweat covered distress on the next bed. "Shit...Nathan!" he banged the wall hard and grabbed his crutches. He made the short trip to Vin's bed, sitting on the edge. He gripped the wet shoulder, shaking it soundly."Vin, calm down, you're gonna get..." He paused as the vomit hit his chest and lap. "...sick..."

The pain in his gut exploded then, and he rid himself of the burning mass inside. It was so hot... it burned his windpipe. Suddenly, there was no more air. His eyes shot open and his worked his gaping mouth. Air. Air. Someone was holding him, speaking to him, harshly.

"You don't calm down, you're gonna choke!" Buck shook him hard, "Breathe Goddammit!" he clapped his back hard, then heard a gasping choke. "Jesus, " He sagged, holding the weakened, trembling body. "You're gonna put me in an early grave, Vin."

"What's wrong?" Nathan flew into the room and saw the answer. "Yuh okay, Buck?"

"Other than being draped in Tanner puke," Buck cringed, "He was having a nightmare, a bad one. Then he got sick and stopped breathin'." He saw blue eyes peeking through the tangled hair. "He's all shook up... and uh... him and the bed are gonna need cleanin' up..." He alluded to the unseen mess.

"Oh," Nathan sighed, "his bowel's all worked up? Hold 'im there for a minute, Buck. I'll get linens and some soap and water." He moved in, giving Buck a large mug of water and an empty bowl.

"Come on, Vin, get that head up." He chided, watching the wet, tangled mess move. "Here, I got water, rinse your mouth first." By the time Vin finished, Nathan returned.

"Okay, Buck, I'm gonna move yuh over by the table. I left warm, soapy water there and a towel. Yuh'r leg okay?"

"Fine, I didn't put any weight on it," He grunted, letting Nathan move him. "Thanks."

The fog lifted and he blinked at the surroundings. Images came back of the group of men who brought him to this place. Laughing and feasting on the yellow sand, while his heart broke. He didn't need them. He didn't need anybody. He'd find Teheno on his own. He'd... he'd... his face drew into a scowl when the stench came up and invaded his nose. He felt the flush of shame over his fever and turned away in anger, when the dark-skinned healer came.

"Gai!" Vin snarled, shoving the arm away. "Gai Gai!" He screamed when they tried to move him. He threw the cup, narrowly missing the mustached one.

"Hey, cut that out!" Buck hollered, "Nathan's trying to help you. You don't behave, I'm gonna dunk that hot head of yours in a tub of cold water!"

"Fine!" Nathan gritted, towering over the messy patient. "Yuh don't want m'help, sit in yuh'r stink. Folks tryin' to help yuh, reachin' a hand out..." he furied, "Go ahead... yuh don't want nobody, fine. I'm goin' back to bed." He turned away, walked to the door and eased just to the other side. Vin couldn't see him, but Buck could. He saw the rogue's head move from Vin to the door and back. He'd cleaned his chest and pants off and tried to stand, his eyes on Vin. "Sit yuh'r ass down, Buck Wilmington," He whispered.

"Aw, hell, Nathan, you can't leave him like that." Buck's heart went out to the huddled form on the bed, whose eyes were sad, despite the anger. He was dirty, fevered and in pain. He was lost and had a hole inside.

"Buck..." Nathan hissed through clenched teeth, until he saw the other man's shoulder's relax.

Vin was unsure of what to do. His whole body ached, especially his head, which had a fired spear in the side. His belly had the firey spear too! Poking and slashing all the way down through his intestines. He doubled up as the pain came back. He clenched his teeth and tried no to cry out. Tears of pain pooled in his eyes and a single, short grunt snuck out.

"Buck, so help me!" Nathan warned, seeing the scoundrel trying to stand.

"You got no heart!" Buck warned, not happy.

"Yuh got more heart than brains sometimes," Nate clarified, "he's gotta reach out... willingly... or it won't work."

"I don't like it," Wilmington grumbled, eyes glued to the balled up Texan, who was trying to rock the pain away.

The pain was too much, the ground was spinning around. The scenery changed again, he was near a cliff, a sheer drop with no bottom. His hot eyes raked the landscape, to fall into the unknown or... he turned his face. "Na...than... Na...than..." he reached a hand out, relaxing when the strong, dark skinned arms righted him.

"I gotcha," the wise healer pulled him back onto the bed. "Look at yuh... yuh'r a mess. How 'bout if we get yuh cleaned up? Then I'll make some tea."

"Ma...gic... t..ea...?" Vin managed, arms protecting his ravaged gut.

"Yeah," Nate eyed the mess, it went through the linens. "Buck, it's gonna need some time to dry..."

"Yeah, I guess it will," the other replied, then understood the intent. "Oh, well, I'm okay with that, just aim his mouth towards the floor." He thought for a moment as the tall man worked quickly, cleaning Vin from top to bottom. Then he saw the soiled linens beneath Vin. "On second thought, aim his ass towards the outside."

Vin never said a word, the entire time Nathan tended to him. He faded away for a little while, waking upon feeling a clean longjohns and then a soft mattress. He felt a cold cloth wiping his face and opened his eyes, as the cup came closer. He drank the sweet tea and the water that followed.

"AisheN," he whispered, over the burning red pain that was slamming from his head through his eyes. He was grateful and gave his thanks again. "AisheN... Na...than..." he whispered, training his heavy blue eyes on the healer. He grabbed the hand and gripped it, taking the warm smile as well.

"Yuh'r welcome, Vin Tanner," Nate soothed, frowning at the fever.

"You go on back to bed, Nate, you look like hell," Buck advised, distancing himself from Vin. "We'll be fine." He was on one side of the large bed, Vin on the other. The shade was raised, sending cool air onto the scrubbed bare mattress. He saw Vin's back stiffen and the body move. Nathan positioned him in a semi-raised form, sideways, facing the space between the beds. A basin was on the floor, in case he got sick. He saw the blue eyes narrow in suspicion... and something else. "What are you givin' me hairy eyeballs for?" Buck sent back, "You got a lot of nerve! You don't like this arrangment, your ungrateful butt can sleep outside, comprehende? Sharing a Wilmington's bed is an honor." He paused as Nathan cleared his throat loudly. "What? It is!" He protested at the brown eyes rolling.

"Na...than..." Vin turned back, holding his cup.

"Yuh want some more?"

"...ma...gic... for... Buck...lin... t'make sleep quieter..." Vin pleaded, "...great thunder hurts... m'head... please..."

"I don't snore!" Buck huffed, then turned to Nathan, who was chuckling. "I changed my mind. Move his sorry behind to Ezra's bed."

"Yuh got the only double," the healer shot back, watching Vin's eyes moving. "Beside, he trusts yuh..."

"Lucky me!" The mustached man commiserated, feeling the sheet and blanket moving. "Oh no... you start hoggin' them blankets and I'll put you outside."

"...not... hoggin'..." Vin snarled, "...ya take t'much..." he decided, snuggling down. "...yer not makin' thunder or stealin' warmth..."

"Oh, really!" Wilmington tugged the blankets back, "Who died and left you boss? Nathan! Nathan, get back here!"

"Goodnight Buck," The healed called out, laughing and settling in his own bed.

"Cut that out, you ungrateful weasel!" Buck shivered as his back and backside were exposed, as the blankets moved again.

"...m'not... a... weasel..." Vin protested, "...ya growl like a bear what's insides's plugged up..."

"Nice, Vin, " Buck's nose wrinkled and he grinned despite himself. "You got class, you know that? Vin ?" He leaned over, watching the jaw drop and the lips part. The eyes were closed and the chest rose and fell. "Great... it's gonna be a long night!' he shook his head, gently trying to pull the blanket from the iron-like grip.

Something woke him up. His throbbing eyes adjusted to the shadows, the small lamp was nearly out. The thunder rose behind him, filling the air. He blinked at the strange camp. There was no fire, yet he was warm. Too warm. He tossed the blanket off and as he searched for water. He sat up and inhaled as a breeze blew past. He saw a cloth floating in water and wiped his face with it. Next to the cloth was a pitcher and mug. He fumbled badly, drinking from the side of the pitcher, ignoring the overspill. Then, over the side of the pitcher, he saw two eyes glowing at him from the window.

"...kasha..." he rasped of the wolf lurking. He was dizzy, the pain in his head made his eyes blur. The camp was flying around and he sucked air in noisly. He heard the thunder behind him and shook his head, watching his friend sleep. He spotted the small knife in a pile of bandages on the table and picked it up. He smacked one arm behind him, against the older man's chest. With a hoarse whoop, he raised the knife, prepared to defend.

"Now what's wrong?" Buck snarled, feeling a hand his his bare chest. "You already got all the blankets, hell I can't even..." his words died when he saw the glint of the knife swinging above. Vin was slashing at air, but off balance. His body was tilting and the second swing tossed him dangerously sideways. "Jesus! Gimme that," he sat up and grabbed the errant wrist, ignoring Vin's babbling protest. "What? I can't understand you... speak English!"

"Wolf!" Vin choked, shoving his body in front, prepared for battle.

Buck applied pressure on the soft side of Vin's wrist and the knife fell to the floor. "No," he gripped Vin around the waist, as he moved to get the blade, "...leave it be. There ain't no wolf there." He chuckled at Vin's angry reply, the wiry body still in place, two fists raised, ready to fight. He chuckled, scrubbed a hand across his face and gripped Vin's shoulder. "Hell, that wolf probably would die laughin'..." he teased, "...your sorry ass can barely sit up... but thanks, Slick!" he gave the shoulder a pat. Vin's face was chisled in grim determination.

He took his eyes momentarily from the beast to look at his friend. What was wrong? How could he not see the beast? It's eyes were blinking right ahead! He protested again, trying to attack and found himself grabbed and sat down. He fought back.

"No... I'll kill 'im... yer hurt... I won't fail again..." Vin panted, his struggles weakening.

"Again?" Buck's voice softened, "aw, hell." He sighed, kept one arm on Vin and grabbed his gun with the other. His belt had been hanging on the bedpost. He waved the gun, watching Vin's head turn sideways. "You go on now, Git... git..." he warned the invisible beast. "See that, he's gone. You scared him good, Pard,"

"No..." Vin shook his wet head, lifting an arm. "His eyes glow in the dark... see..."

"Eyes?" Buck craned his neck, then spotting the blinking light and chuckled. "Hell, before this night is out, I may need lots of 'hibi'"

"Hibi," Vin's whole body turned, keen eyes raking the room. This made the other man laugh hard. He scrunched his face up, "...yer laughin' at me..."

"No, " Buck wiped his eyes, "No hibi... no wolf, either," he pointed to the lamp, "see that lamp? That's the same light as you see out there. It's from a big boat passin' by, signaling the lighthouse." He saw the face screw up even more and the head shake in denial.

"Yer makin' that up... there is no 'house o'light..."

"No... no... a lighthouse... it's a tall building on the beach... it sends out..." He saw the stone wall and gave up, then spotted the signal light die on the boat as it slipped away. "You're right Vin, see the wolves are gone."

"Haa!" Vin gloated, sticking his chest out. "Ya sleep now... I am... am..." he thought of the phrase he'd heard earlier. It was in head and he couldn't identify from where. "...watchin' yer back... Buck...lin..."

"Yeah," Buck chuckled again, watching the blue eyes drooping fast. "...and a right fine job you're doin'!" He eased the drowsy patient back onto his side and waited. Sure enough, the jaw dropped and the lips parted. Soft, steady breathing, a sign Vin was asleep. He pulled the sheet up and took the blanket for himself. He wished he did have 'hibi', he leg was throbbing. He eased his head back, thinking of the wobbly stand of defense Vin took against the 'wolf'. He smiled then, seeing Vin the man so clearly in Vin the boy. He yawned and joined his friend in sleep.

Vin heard the thunder again and his shoulders jumped. He peeled his eyes open, wrinkled his nose in distaste and watched the sounds come out. Then he got an idea and a slow smile formed. He knelt up, moved across the big bed and leaned over Bucklin's unprotected face. He made gagging sounds, loud and disturbing. Then he saw the eyes open and focus. He jerked his shoulders, curled his hands over his abdomen and gagged open mouth.

"Shit!" Buck hissed in cold panic. Vin was about throw up on his face. "What the hell are you doing? Get away... Nathan left you a bowl..." Then he saw the 'act' dissolve and the 'actor' erupt into a good belly laugh. The blue eyes were crinkled in mirth and the tone of the boyish laughter was one he'd never heard. It was contagious, and he let himself get lost in that sound. This was a picture of Vin he'd never seen. A glimpse beyond the pain; a peek past the careful wall built around himself. It was a great sound and he enjoyed the prankster. He thought of Teheno and how, despite the 'fireants in the breeches' at times, he must have cared deeply for the boy Vin. "You think that's funny?"

"Haa!" Vin nodded, his face animated and wearing a devilish grin. "Bucklin... quivers like a young maid." He mimicked the action he'd seen and exaggerated, then laughed again, grinning at himself.

"Proud o'yourself?" Buck laughed, it was impossible not to.

"Haa!" Vin boasted, raising an eyebrow, "It stopped the thunder..."

"I don't snore!"

"Yes... ya do!" Vin replied, settling back on his side against a wall of pillows. The laughter had caused his injured ribs to rebel and he struggled for air. His eyes grew large and he fisted the sheet. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy now, in through your nose and out through your mouth," Buck coached, seeing the pain-riddled features. "That's better..." he repeated, watching the face tightened. One hand lifted to touch the injured head. "Hurts huh?"

"Haa... Haa..." Vin rasped, breathing as instructed, until his eyes grew heavy. "Buck...lin..." he sighed, "...thank..." he managed, before he passed out.

"You're welcome, Vin," he spoke softly, watching the new day being born outside. No sense going back to sleep now. He sat up and reached for his shirt and then his crutches. He carefully made his way outside. He was letting the young sun bake his face, when he smelled coffee. One eye peeled open and he took the offered mug. "Thanks..."

"You sleep good?" J.D. asked his friend, while gazing at the ocean.

"One of us did," Buck yawned, sipped his coffee and peered into the room. Nathan was changing Vin's dressings. The younger man never stirred. "Between being thrown up on, attacked by wolves and then by a Tanner..."

"Wolves?" Nate turned, eyebrows crossed.

"He panicked, woke up and saw the signal lights from the boats passin' by... thought it was wolves." Buck pronounced, "tried to protect us... damn near fell outta the bed. " He turned irritated aiming his displeasure at the healer. "Which reminds me, you gotta move them knives... he found one. I woke up and saw it slicing the air, he almost went with it. Move 'em away from that pile of medicine and bandages." He grumbled, "barely got settled in again and sleepin' when that little weasel pretended he was getting sick again."

"...ya shook like a young maid..." Vin repeated, turning his sleepy eyes to the window and smiling. "Mornin' Bucklin..."

Buck opened his mouth to correct Vin's assessment, but the unarmed face took his guard away. He smiled back, shook his head and surrender. "Hey Vin... sleep good?" He teased.

"...the thunder was great... I think it upset m'belly..."

"It did no such thing!" Buck protested, over his friend's laughter. He watched Nathan help Vin into some clothes. "Hey Nathan, can't he come out here and eat with us?"

"Don't see why not... fresh air's good for 'im." He guided the barefooted patient through the door. "Yuh stay outta the sun, it's nice and shady here on the porch, yuh understand?"

"Yeah," Vin marveled, eyeing the great expanse of water. "Where does it go? How... is it... there?" He stammered, overcome by the power of the ocean.

"It goes to the South Pacific Islands, Asia, uh..." J.D. frowned, trying to remember, "uh... Australia and other countries."

Nathan watched Vin listening intently to J.D. as the younger man explained other things about the ocean. He was glad that Vin didn't seem so heartsick today. Maybe a part of him was 'growing up. Erza and Josiah arrived, along with Miguel and a large tray of food. They sat on the porch and ate heartily of the eggs, corn fritters, fruit, sausages and cheese. Vin had oatmeal and tea and managed to finish half of it. Nathan watched his eyes drift to the sea now and again and a sadness fill them, a terrible longing. He knew that look, the laughter the men shared reminded him of his lost brother. He rose to get more coffee and gave Vin's shoulder a small tug.

He saw alone in the hotel dining room. The coffee was strong and he'd need it today. His well groomed body, complete with a new sage green shirt, betrayed the inner anxiety he felt. His pale green eyes shifted, eyeing the empty streets. Dawn just broke, they'd be filling up soon. Too many bodies, too many voices, too many blue uniforms and bad memories. He nodded as the waitress approached, indicating the special offered on the blackboard would be fine. He was hungry, starving actually. His animal like lust the night before left him ravenous. He'd been overly generous with the pretty girl, she'd earned ever piece of silver. He thought on the road ahead and worry line snuck onto his face. What would this new day bring? He was riding to San Diego in a few hours, hoping to find salvation in the salt air.

"Chris?"

He looked up, blinking away his distracted thoughts and saw the older man standing a few feet away. "Major," he nodded to the empty chair. "coffee?"

"Thanks," the other man moved, "...and it's Tom," Kelly replied. "I stopped by the clinic, but your friends are gone."

"Left yesterday morning for San Diego," He sipped his coffee. "Be good for Vin and Nate... I hope."

"How is your friend? I spoke with the doctor, he sounded hopeful."

"Hope's all we got," Chris supplied, eyeing the guilt on the other man's face. "Tom, it's not your fault."

"Isn't it, Chris? I wonder." He paused, sipping his coffee. "All the things I could have done differently. Instead of a hate filled monster, I could... should have a son I could be proud of... like young Tanner."

"Hindsight's everything, Maj... Tom." he corrected, "We all got regrets. I lost a wife and child in a fire, while I was away. They were murdered," his whiteknuckled the cup, gritting through his clenched teeth. "If I had come home a couple days earlier... they'd still be alive... maybe." He paused, "Neither of us can change what's happened. I can tell you bitterness isn't the answer, I've lived that and I don't intend to go back." He shifted his chair as the sun's rays shot through the room. "Every new day brings hope, Tom. Your boy, he's at peace now, with his mother. Let him rest, grieve for your loss and move forward. Take it from me, reliving it every day will kill you in pieces and that's a pain worse the Hell."

Major Kelly looked at the young man with deep admiration. Despite the horrific actions his son had done, going back several years, there was nothing but forgiveness on the calm features. Was Chris Larabee right? Should he grieve and move on, forgetting the hateful acts his son had done?

"Maybe you're right, Chris," he sighed, "My youngest sister lives in Charleston. Her husband died suddenly earlier this year. She's got four little ones she's trying to raise alone. The baby's only three..." His voice trailed off. "I've got enough years in, I could retire, perhaps get a teaching position at the university."

"I can't think of a better set of hands to guide those kids," Chris said honestly, watching the surprise on the other face. "It sounds like a perfect fit."

"Thank you, Chris, you have no idea how much you've helped me."

"You saved my... mine and Vin's lives at the greatest sacrifice a man can endure, Tom. I'll always be grateful." He waited and the other man stood. He extended his hand and they shook. "Good luck to you, Tom."

"Thanks, Chris," he paused, "I hope your friend gets well. Tell him how sorry I am..."

"He knows, Tom and he's not angry at you. Have a safe trip home."

"Home," Major Thomas Kelly thought on that words and an image of the four laughing youngsters who climbed all over him last Christmas in his sister's house came to mind. Suddenly, home had a name, a five faces.

Orrin joined Chris for breakfast, sliding a wire over. Chris read Josiah's note and nodded.

"I've been to La Jolla, it's beautiful," Orrin attested. "If anyplace can provide a healing atmosphere, it's there. Speaking of which," his wise eyes saw the pain etched in the green ones across from him. "You need to heal too."

"I'm fine."

"You lose at poker too," he smiled, watching the other man's lips rise. "Go to San Diego, Chris and heal. You can't carry the load alone, Son, your shoulders aren't that broad. I heard Josiah call what you men have a 'circle of light'. That's what you all need now..."

"Strength in numbers?"

"Yes, it's been the backbone of most successful battles, this one is no different. Share the burden, Chris. Let Vin help you." He saw the head turn and the sharp feature zone in on him. "Yes, you need him as much as he needs you, maybe more. Go and find your peace, Chris."

For several moments, he didn't speak. He ate his meal, left money and stood. The judge rose too and they walked to the door. Chris was packed and ready to go, his fine black horse waiting. He eased into the saddle, pulled the brim of his flat hat down and grabbed the reins. Finally, he turned to the older man.

"Orrin, them folks that appoint judges," he paused, lifting one lip up, "They know their shit."

"Eloquence is your strong suit," Travis returned with a warm smile, "and I reckon they do at that, Chris." They shared a cocky grin and with one dip of the black hat, he watched Chris Larabee ride away.

Lunch had been enjoyed and they were basking in the sun. Josiah was reading, Buck, J.D and Ezra were playing cards. Nathan was talking with Father Paulo about his travels. Vin was sleeping on the porch in a long chaise. Buck was the first to notice. He smiled, tossed his cards down and grinned.

"Hey, look whose here!"

Vin's head popped up and he jumped up, staggering as the floor began to move. He followed Buck's eyes to the interior of the room. He was dizzy and moved to quickly. His eyes adjusted to the light and he stumbled into a hard body. He saw green cloth and felt strong hands righting him.

"Slow down."

He heard the voice and stared hard. A stranger with a strong face, yellow hair and pale green eyes looked back at him. He brushed by him angrily, nearly running into the room. It was empty. He cried out in frustration, throwing an empty basin at the wall. He ran to the hallway door and looked through. Empty. Empty. Empty. He ranted all the way back through the room, shoving past the stranger to glare with hostility at Buck.

"Ya... lied... ya... ya... said he was here...." He accused, chest tight and eyes filling. "Teheno... ain't here... ya lied..."

"Aw, shit!" Buck closed his eyes briefly, before meeting the angry sky eyes a few feet away.

"Vin, Buck didn't..." Ezra started to defend, only to have the rogue's hand silence him.

"I'm sorry, Vin. I'd never hurt you, you know that." He said softly, over the pain in his heart. "I didn't mean Teheno, I meant Chris Larabee, he's one of us... a friend. He's a good man, a good friend. I'm sorry..."

Chris stood by awkwardly, not sure of what to do. He moved towards Vin, watching Nathan rise and stride over as well. The two men flanked their crestfallen friend, watching a strange metamorphosis. He lifted his head, inhaled the salt air and let the breeze take his hair back from his face. He stared at the ocean, the gulls, the rocks and then every face. In a shadow of a voice, wistful and tinged with profound sorrow, he spoke.

"He's not comin' back fer me..." Vin's voice was distracted but strong. "I've lost... him... Oh God..." His hot eyes went to the ocean's edge and he moved, an urge rising.

In his expanse of years, Chris Larabee had suffered many blows. He'd been beaten, shot, stabbed and near drowned. He fought five years in a bloody war and seen sights no man should witness. He buried good friends without the luxury of a final farewell. He'd buried the two most precious things God saw fit to gift him with, Sarah and Adam. Now, he felt a new pain, it was hard and cold. He fisted both hands, not knowing how to fight this foe. He needed physical, to strike out, to feel the weaker flesh give beneath his mighty grip. One look in those lost blue eyes and the echoes of the sad refrain of the words in his ears, took every bit of strength from his body. He blinked as the voice broke through again and a slim hand rested on his elbow.

"Mister... Mister..." Vin rasped, "'scuse me..."

"Huh?" Chris blinked, not even feeling Nathan gently move him, so Vin could get past.

Vin eyed the fruit in the bowl and grabbed a bunch of deep purple grapes. He staggered in the uneven sand, not feeling the pain shooting up his healing leg. The fire in his head was nothing compared to the one in his heart. He stopped when the water was lapping at his toes. He dropped to his knees, crushing the fruit in his fingers. As the pain in his heart fought forth, he raised his wet eyes skyward, while his fingers marked his face.

"Let me go," Chris said in a low lethal voice, shaking off the healer's arms.

"Leave it alone, Chris," Nate warned, eyeing Vin in the distance. "leave 'im be..."

"Don't fuckin' tell me what to do!" Larabee growled, "Mister? Did you hear that. Not Chris... or Teheno... I'm a fuckin' stranger. Mister!" He kicked the wall, snarling and gripped his hips.

"Yes, you are," Ezra rose and winced, his back flaring up. He moved closer, keeping a safe distance between them. "He didn't see Teheno, Chris, that's the first step."

"Hell, Chris, we've all heard how much that boy loved Teheno. A part of that was what you did for him. Back in the desert and later in town." Buck added, seeing the agony in his oldest friend's face.

"By becoming Teheno," Nathan picked up the emotional baton, "Yuh answered some questions that he's been totin' inside for years. All them 'what if's. What did Teheno think when he rode back and found his family slaughtered? Was he angry at Vin? Disappointed? Worried? Yuh gave him back part of his soul, Chris. That's a damn fine thing."

"It's not enough..." Chris pained, watching Vin's arms rise. He closed his eyes when the grief stricken voice rose above the roar of the tide. Vin's was rocking on his knees, one fist beating against his heart. His jagged broken voice was painfully wounding every man who watched. It was a prayer on some kind, the words were strange but the tone was crystal clear. He was in deep mourning.

"No," Josiah stood, blocking Chris.

"Move." The words slithered through the clenched jaw, the eyes were like green coals, but the preacher stood his ground.

"No," Sanchez repeated. "Chris, he don't know you. You're a stranger. Put yourself in his place. How'd you feel if some stranger accosted you the day you buried Sarah and Adam, before you were done saying goodbye"

"That's different!" Larabee flared, unable to bear Vin's tormented body and exploding heart.

"No, it's not," Nathan stood by Chris. "Give him his time, Chris. Yuh been there... yuh know what he's feelin'. He's gotta let go, grieve, mourn, pray and then... then we'll be there to catch him when he falls."

So he waited and watched as Vin endured unending waves of grief. The water washed over his knees and legs. With every ebb of the tide, his voice grew weaker. The agonizing wails dissolved into shuddering sobs and then unearthly silence.

Vin finished his prayer, keeping his wet eyes trained on the sky. He felt his tears mixing with the sticky purple marks on his face. He beat his fist to his heart and rocked, his voice full of crashing lament. They appeared in the mist, rising above the mighty waves. His grandmother, grandfather, aunts, uncles.... Bazi, with her new son at her breast. His jaw quivered, he reached one hand out, his heart exploding in need and desperation.

"Gai... gai..." he pleaded. He knew it was time for them to go and he must stay behind. He closed his eyes as surrendered into his grandmother's embrace. He felt her move within him, leaving her strength and love as she stroked his heart. Then, they were gone and he was totally and utterly spent. The cold, numbing sensation that filled him was worse than the pain. He chest heaved, fighting for air. He lifted his beloved shell to his hear, pressing it close.

"Teheno... Te..he...no... gai... gai.... GAI!" He screamed, the voice was gone. His brother was lost to him forever. That was the mortal blow, lancing his heart and ripping his soul to pieces. His limbs gave way and he collapsed on the sand. The rough, course grains mixed with his salt-streaked face. His fingers curled in the mud, as he took another shuddering breath.

As soon as Vin went down, Chris moved. Suddenly, the empty helplessness he'd felt just moments before was gone. In it's place, a surging sense of resolve. A map appeared, a course with direction and purpose. His had one mission and it stood so very clear before him... and nobody would stop him. He straighted up, eyed the men who stood before him, then the others, before staring hard at Nathan Jackson. He knew how the other man had been sheltering Vin from the storm and he was grateful, but the time had come to change shifts.

"I'd never hurt him," the blond said quietly, taking off his hat and gunbelt.

There was something in the voice that made Nathad nod and move. A steely purpose, a well-honed glint in the eye and a gnawing need in the strong chest. He nodded, gave the broad shoulder a pat of confidence and let him go. Ezra moved his hand deftly, pressing the flask to Chris's palm. Chris nodded and gave the other man his hat and gun. Then he moved through the sands of time to gather up the broken pieces of the fragile soul.

The playful foam from the waves dissolved as the water retreated. He eyed the ocean, the sandy terraces that dotted the tidepools and saw a movement beneath the clear water. Above the fine strands of kelp was a whole other world of sea life. Starfish, eels, rays and scores of other inhabitants of Neptune's mighty world were thriving. A school of brightly colored fish swam by, eager to arrive at their desination. It was timeless, quiet, fragile and beautiful; much like the eyes of the lost soul before him.

He paused by Vin's side, engulfed by the utter and complete surrender in the sand. The body seemed to have lost all it's bones. The sullen face pressed to the sand was void, blank and lost. The eyes, those eloquent gifts of sky blue, which he could read so very easily, were barren. He waited several moments and saw the twin blues slide slightly, regarding him.

"My name's Chris, Vin, I'd like to help you."

Vin didn't move. He tasted another mouthful of salt water as the tide died by his face. His fingers continued to cling to the mud, holding on to what had been. His eyes moved from the penetrating green gaze to the muddied pink shell in his hand. His lip quivered, his heart ached and he studied every single grain of sand on the shell. His eyes moved again and saw a pink palm. An open hand, an offer of kindness and much more. He followed the hand up the green cloth and to the face. Compassion, hope and faith hit him hard. Most of all one word form. He heard it screaming from the green eyes in prayful hope.

"...trust me..."

A feeling so intense came over him, it took his breath away. He was paralyzed by it; his limbs tingling with amazement. He couldn't tear himself from that strong face and those mezmerizing green eyes. He was torn in half... his heart was shivering. He tore his gaze away and his wet eyes fell to the shell again. He took several deep breaths, each one less shaky then the prior and one by one, his sticky fingers uncurled. With one final, eternal lingering look, he dropped the shell, flinching and crying out as it hit the sand. Then he lifted the shaking, muddy fingers to this man who was no stranger and never would be. His heart told him so.

Chris watched the wet head lift and looked far beyond the running, purple streaks in the face. He'd ridden with Vin Tanner through fire fights, gun battles and against incredible odds. He'd seen every side of Tanner courage, in every shape, size and form. He was never prouder of his best friend, his 'brother' than at this moment. He knew just what that shell represented and how much raw courage it took to let it go. The dull, blank blue eyes were now shining with faith and the muddy paw offered was reaching out in hope. He took the hand and all that went with it, hauling his brother on the road to salvation with him.

Part Fifteen

Chris led Vin to a group of flat rocks near the shore. He sat him down and handed him the flask. He saw the blue eyes widen and the head instinctively bob towards where Nathan was standing in the distance. He found a small smile at that; Vin was unaware just how much he was helping the wounded healer.

"It's okay, Vin, just a small sip, it'll calm your nerves."

For several minutes, he stood with one leg on the rocks, knee extended. He watched the gulls swoop down, trying to catch an early dinner. Vin was sitting, hunched forward, his fingers stroking the silver on the flask. His eyes lingered on the ocean, the gentle motion almost hypnotic.

"It might help to talk about it," he said quietly, watching the Adam's apple bobbing at a record rate. Something was fighting hard to get out.

"I..." Vin lifted his gaze, still shaken by the strong feelings rocking his fragile body. He didn't understand the calm that the cool green gaze brought to the jagged open wounds inside him. He couldn't explain it, but he trusted this man. It did hurt. Alot. He never felt a pain like this. So he took a jagged breath, another small sip and gazed at the sea. "...m'all... alone... m'family... they... they... di...ed.... them animals wearin' blue kilt 'em... I couldn't save... m'sister... he done things... t'her... Mister... Chris," he corrected, chest heaving. "...bad things... he kilt the little one... he's only a baby... I tri...ed..." his voice broke, he gasped for air and took several shuddering. "I... got... nobody... now..."

Chris bit his lip and felt a burning pain inside. He blew out a frustrated breath and gripped his tense hips. He wrestled the nag inside; twisting his inadequate feelings into determined resolve. He gripped the back of Vin's neck and sighed in relief when the other man didn't pull away. He took a seat next to the rocking, huddled figure and rested his elbows on his knees. He followed that handsome profile out to the sea... and waited.

"That's good, right?" J.D. asked Josiah Sanchez. They were all watching the pair by the ocean's gate. "I mean, Vin let Chris help him up... do you think he's Vin again?"

"I don't know, Son, but it might not matter," he mentally replied the image of Vin's bayful eyes and the hand reaching up to Chris Larabee. "Something inside him told him to trust Chris."

"He followed his heart," Buck said quietly, turning away. "I feel like I'm eavesdroppin' or somethin'. It's not right. I'm goin' inside."

"I think maybe Buck's right," Ezra decided, "they need some privacy. I feel the call of that glorious Roman bath."

"Hey, that's a great idea," Buck eased his body up and onto the crutches Nathan handed him. "We can break it in right."

"We?" Standish kept close to the tall man, wary of the injured leg. "There is no 'we'. My delicate condition is not ready for your bawdy humor."

"Is that what you call it down south?" Buck gasped, getting through the bedroom and into the hall. "...could be they got somethin' in town to help that 'limp noodle' problem."

"I beg your pardon!" Standish reached out as Wilmington wobbled and nearly stumbled. "That is one infirmity a Standish has yet to encounter."

"That ain't what Selina Matherson told me," Wilmington stopped, sweat pouring down his face.

"Selina?" Ezra frowned, "Just when did you and the lady in question have time to discuss my... uh..."

"...shortcomings..." Buck panted, "Ez...ra... get... me... a... a... shit..."

"Sit down!" Standish ordered, propelling the shaky man to a tall bishop's chair by the door leading to the underground. "If you fall on me, I'll take legal action."

"You... would..." Buck coughed, gripping Ezra's arm, despite the fact he was seated. "Damn..." he clenched his eyes shut, rubbing his throbbing leg. He didn't realize how tight his jaw was clenched, until a cold cloth was pressed to his hand. Then he relaxed and felt the pain in his neck and jaw from tension. He wiped his face and took the mug of water offered. "Thanks, Ezra... maybe this wasn't such a good idea. You go on..."

"Oh no," the southerner paused, reading the pain in the other's face, "Let you dangle the bait and leave it hanging in the wind? I think not! It's not much further and I need more information on your questionable daliance with the lovely seamtress in question," he said of the pretty newcomer to town. He pointed to the doorway and waited.

"You're full of shit, Ezra," Buck laughed, seeing right through the facade. He took and kept his weight of his leg, hopping to the door. "Aw, hell, there's too many steps, I can't get down there."

"Use your brains," Ezra swatted the rogue's backside. "You spend most of your time reclining on them..."

"Very funny," Wilmington mocked, sitting on the top step and easing himself down on his rump. "I guees..." he panted, picking up speed, "...I'll finally get... to... see... that... heart... shaped... birthmark... on... your..."

"What!" Ezra wheeled around, already downstairs. He had both boots off and was unbuttoning his shirt. Steam rose from the heated water in the square Roman pool. Large ferns stood at each corner and a fresco on the wall of the Italian countryside. Light poured in from windows which banked a whole wall, high near the ceiling. A large basket of fruit, cheese, cookies and bread was near the edge. Another basket held several bottles of wine.

"Don't... worry..." Buck paused, eyeing his best path. There was no way he could get to the pool on his own. "...we can keep a... secret..." he extended his hand as the bare chested gambler approached.

"We?" Standish help to support the other man, leading him to a bath side bench.

"Yeah..." Buck sighed, "Me and the eagles..."

"Eagles," Ezra peeled his pants off, then slid into the hot water. "I've died and gone to heaven." He oozed of the heat penetrating his skin. He rested against the smooth marble, taking a pile of rich, red grapes from the basket.

"Hey, that's what Selina said!" Buck took his pants off very carefully. "We were having a picnic down by the river. There was nice breeze, soft quilt... she got the sweetest lips this side of New Orleans. It was one of my finer moments," he grinned rakishly and eased onto the side of the bath, before sliding in and sitting on the built in bench going around the perimeter. The water was just at high chest and was heavenly. "these hands... these lips... these teeth... workin' overtime..." he sighed, recalling the afternoon. "She damn near passed out."

"Hah!" Ezra scoffed, "sounds like heat stroke."

"Oh yeah," Buck agreed, popping a piece of cheese in his mouth and wagging his fingers at the wine. "I was hot... alright. She said I made her tingle all over..."

"Anything else?" Standish uncorked it and passed it over. "other than the effects of your rash."

"Yeah, she said kissin' you was like suckin' on a dead fish." Buck imparted, taking a swig, "Hey this is good..." he paused, handing the bottle over "...that's when she told me about your birthmark. Hey," He frowned, "you slithered in there too fast, I didn't get to see it."

"There's nothing to see, it's barely noticable." Ezra blushed, then took a drink.

"That's not what Selina said," Buck took a sausage from the basket and more cheese. "She said it was real cute... especially when you got... uh... excited."Buck wagged his eyebrows and laughed outloud when the other man blushed. "Don't worry, Ace, me and eagles will make sure nobody else knows."

"What eagles?" Ezra hissed, moving away from the womanizer.

"Them silver fellas you got plenty of in the bank back home." Wilmington rested his head on the wall and sighed, closing his eyes. "I figure... my tab at the saloon is paid for life."

"You figured wrong!" Ezra returned, allowing a broad grin now that the other couldn't see him. He smiled, chuckled and lifted the bottle, toasting silently.

"Nathan?" Josiah asked, "I'm going in town with Paulo. Do you need anything?"

"Yeah..." the healer replied from the table. He went inside and did a quick inventory on his supplies. "Here," he handed his friend a list. "Make sure yuh find the druggist. I got nuthin' left to help Vin if his bowels keep actin' up."

"Okay," the preacher replied, "Coming Son?"

"Yeah," J.D. bounded through the room. "I want to buy something for Casey and get a good look around town,"

Nathan passed through the room, took a seat on the porch and watched the two figures by the water. He hoped Vin could find his way back to them. For his own sake, of course, but for Chris Larabee's as well. There was an ease in the lean gunslinger's stance when Tanner rode with him. An unseeing force; a binding faith, a blind trust that was slaying the demons that he'd carried. He looked at the book in his hand, left behind by the preacher. He picked it up, opened it and stroked the words written so long ago. How many souls had these powerful words saved?

"You're not alone."

Vin blinked twice, shook his head, clearing the dizzying effect the tide had on him. He turned slowly, looking at the man next to him. The voice was quiet but the words hit him with force. He grabbed them, needing desperately to hold onto them.

"You got friends now," Chris continued, watching Vin absorb his words. "God sure didn't waste his talent on those eyes of yours Tanner," he whispered to the wind of the open windows looking at him.

"Friends..." Vin wondered, "they're real nice... fair... not like most Daiboo... 'specially Na...than." His voice grew soft. "He's been takin' good care o'me... I been lookin' after him too... I promised Tehe... Tehe..." he couldn't finish. "I made a promise... t'help Na...than."

"To Teheno?" Chris asked and saw the head dip.

"He's my brother." Vin looked away from the penetrating eyes, feeling naked under their gaze. "He found me... m'grandpa died... I was real sick. We didn't have nobody else... he helped me bury m'grandpa. He... cared fer me... tended t'me 'til I wasn't sick no more... didn't tell nobody I cried when we covered grandpa with the dirt."

Chris smiled at that, getting a better picture of the man who'd molded the boy Tanner so well. "He sounds like a good man."

"He's a great warrior!" Vin boasted proudly, his voice strong, his eyes shining. "He's gonna be chief one day. Nobody can ride a horse like Teheno! He's s'smart... he knows everythin'... he never gets tired o'm'questions..." Vin paused, wrinkling his nose and taking a small sip of 'hibi'. "...well maybe sometimes... couple times he said he's gonna nail my hide t'a tree..." Vin turned and smiled when his new friend laughed. There was a light in those green eyes, something stronger than the sun. Stronger than Teheno's eyes even. He shuddered and turned away, afraid of the feelings it left inside him. "The night he... they... rode out... there's trouble with the Sioux..." Vin paused and took a deep breath.

"Here it comes..." Chris thought, watching the explosion of something long imprisoned about to brust forth.

"He took Little Wolf..." Vin's eyes went to the horizon, his wistful voice was full of longing. "...he's only a few... weeks old... he put... he took..." Vin bit his lip and took took two shuddering breaths. "It was his firstborn son... he's so proud...t he night he's born... ya shouldda seen his face."

"Yeah," Chris hushed, feeling his own strong emotions rising. What father didn't know that incredible feeling of immortality when you held that fine miracle and touched God's finest gift. He could still feel that and smell that wonderful scent only new babies carried. He saw himself near the fireplace with his new son. That tiny face nuzzling his neck and that soft breath dancing against his ear. "God..." he whispered, shaking it off.

"...he took that baby," Vin's voice was hoarse now and he turned to the newcomer whose power he couldn't understand. He put his hands out, palms up. They were shaking visibly. "He took... Little... he gave... he put... he... put his son... only child..." his voice broke. "...here..." The hands were trembling violently now. "He gripped m'shoulders with both hands, ruffled m'hair and rode away. He trusted.... me with... his..." He sobbed then and ducked his head down, ashamed. He felt two strong hands grip his wrists and he looked up.

"One day, Vin, you'll have a son. You'll know just what Teheno did that day. The first time you hold that baby and feel that power... it's... there isn't a word to describe it. I had a boy, Vin. I know what Teheno felt. He chose you, Vin, to guard the most precious thing in his life. You, Vin, he chose you. He had good reason. That baby would have learned a lot from you. Teheno didn't leave his son with you, Vin, he chose you. There's a big difference."

Vin looked up startled at the words, wiped his eyes and thought on them. "...chose... chosen..."

"Yup," Chris let go then, seeing the trembling had stopped. "chosen... Vin... because you're special. You were right, Teheno was a smart man. It was a wise choice, the right choice."

"...no..." Vin denied. "I didn't save..."

"You defended that boy and his mother, with your life!" Chris growled, "Would it have been better if you died!"

"I... dunno..." Vin winced at the harsh words. "...maybe... wouldn't be any pain..."

"Bullshit!!" Chris roared, rising and pacing in the hard sand. He glanced over and saw all the color leave Vin's face and his eyes, wide and full of blue pain, burned a hole through him. "Shit..." he kicked a rock, he'd forgotten he was talking to a scared thirteen year old boy who just watched his whole family slain. "Sorry... I didn't mean to holler at you, Vin."

"...yer thunder's louder than Buck...lin's snorin'..." Vin hedged, trying to make the light in the green eyes come back. Now there was dark fire and he didn't like that. "I didn't mean t'make ya mad..."

"You didn't Vin... I overreacted," He sighed, watching the surf roll in.

"I can't hear 'im no more..." Vin whispered, "All the other times he left... huntin' or on a raid. I... always... felt 'im... heard his voice. I can't find 'im... I miss... 'im.." his voice was rough and raw. His head was pounding and his chest ached. He was dizzy and suddenly so very tired.

"You didn't lose him, Vin," Chris moved in, placing one tentative hand on the slumped shoulder. He tapped Vin's chest with two fingers and saw the head rise. "He's right here... he never left. You'll always hear him, if you listen..." he paused, "Close your eyes, Vin, listen for his voice."

Chris moved away a few feet, picked up the discarded flask and drained it. He watched Vin's crestfallen face for several minutes, then noticed a change. All his features relaxed, the ragged breathing stopped and he lifted his face to the sun. One hand was in a fist, over his heart. He saw a slow smile form and Vin's lips move silently, answering the name.

Vin did try. He closed his eyes and inhaled the salty air. It was a good feeling, like magic wind. It filled his lungs and spread through his anguished body. Then he heard a sound in his ear. He cocked his head. It was soft at first and he listened intently.

" In her eyes is how much she loved you. That's what you need to see, okay?"

"Teheno?" He prayed, beating his fist to his heart. He saw Bazi's eyes then, not blank and lifeless, but bright and rich, full of love for him. He smiled and felt some of the pain go away.

"Listen for me... hear my words, Blue Eagle... I'm in your heart... your blood... feel my spirit... walk tall... walk proud, Little Brother."

"I will... make ya proud..." he smiled, feeling a peace inside that he thought was lost. "I will walk tall... I'll carry yer spirit..." he relaxed, smiling as the feeling overpowered him. He lifted his face to the sun and inhaled again. "...babi..."

"Thank you," Chris whispered, eyeing the sky. Vin's words were healing him as well. He moved closer, smiling at the face beaming at him in youthful exhuberance. "Better?"

"Ya were right..." Vin exuded, "I heard him... he ain't mad... he's... he's... here..." He saw the other man smile and the eyes were light again. They warmed him like the sun. He thought on the other man's words. "Yer boy... he's lucky... I wish I had a Pa like ya're..."

Chris winced then, "Yeah... I was the lucky one, Vin. He was a special little boy, so was his mother."

"Was?" Vin said quietly, his excitement waning. "Ain't he here with ya?"

"No, Vin, he's in heaven." Chris sat down, picked up a piece of small driftwood and tossed in in the ocean. "He and his mother died in a fire. Somebody killed them." He dropped his head, his elbows were resting on his knees.

"No," Vin's raspy voice shook, as he was sincerely shocked and in pain for the other man. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean t'upset ya, Chris."

He felt the slightest pressure on his arm and realized Vin had reached out to him. It was a step, a small one, but a step none the less. He sighed, took a deep breath and sat up, eyeing the sand covered hand on his arm. He covered it with his own and curled his lips up. "Thank you, Vin. You didn't upset, me. You reminded me of how good it felt to hold Adam, smell him, hear his laugh. That's a gift too and I cherish those memories."

For a moment, they sat quietly, watching the ocean. Chris was lost in time, revisiting Adam's first steps, the wonderful tug on his heart when his son called him by name the first time, teaching him to ride, taking him fishing, tickling him, reading to him, showing him the stars. Most of all , the simple pleasure of watching him sleep. So lost in those happy memories, he didn't hear Vin at first. Then he heard a thud and shook the fog away. "Vin?" he turned and saw the other man on his hands and knees. "Vin!" he dropped down. "What's wrong?"

"...hurts... sick..." He managed, before throwing up. He was dizzy and disoriented, his head exploded in white hot pain. He grasped at air, trying to find something to hold onto. He hit flesh... cloth and bandages. Bandages? Gasping for air and locked sideways in Chris's arms, he tugged at the shirt, exposing bandages. A wall of memories hit him hard, taking his breath away. A desert, pain... a lot of pain, a voice calming his fears, hands tending him, feeding him, giving him water and shelter. Blood hair and green eyes, not brown hair and brown eyes. Teheno... Chris... Teheno was there, wasn't he? No, Chris was there. Then he saw another image and gasped pushing away, shaking his head.

"Go away... don't touch me... yer... not... who are ya? I don't..."

"Vin?" Chris didn't move, not wanting to scare him anymore. The large eyes were darting frantically, seeing moving images known only to him. Then the eyes widened and the mouth dropped open.

"Ya were there... the bluebelly had a gun in m'mouth..." Vin's voice was hoarse as the realization hit him hard. He cocked his head, his brows furrowed and his words came out slowly, dazed. "he... didn't... fire... he... no..." his head turned and he stared hard at the man with the penetrating eyes. "Ya saved m'life... ya threw yerself over me... he coullda shot ya... kilt ya... why'd ya do that? Who are ya? Teheno ... was... I thought he's there... his face... yer face... I don't...w hat's goin' on..." He stood, trying to escape the stormy assualt and the whole beach flew sideways. The pain in his head reached a shrieking cresendo. He stumbled and felt two arms grab him. "No... don't... yer a devil'r somethin'... yer makin' me see things... go 'way..."

"Open your eyes and look at me, Vin Tanner," Chris commanded, easing Vin upright into a sitting position. He knelt in front of the shaking man, waiting for the eyes to open and focus. He grabbed Vin's hand and forced it to touch his chest. "I'm real... flesh and bone... I'm no devil... I'm your friend and you can fight, kick and scratch all you want, I'm not leaving. I found you in the desert and I'll find you again." He felt the wrist caught in his fist go slack. The breathing slowed and the eyes narrowed as the words were mulled over. Then the angry, cross face completely relaxed.

He didn't understand the mixed up vision, but he felt the power in this man's grip. He touched the arm with his free hand and felt muscle. Flesh, bone, blood... he was real. He didn't understand the vison, but he accepted the meaning. He looked hard into the eyes and saw compassion, concern and faith. Then he knew and he relaxed, moving his hand up to touch the cheek.

"Chris..."

"Vin?" Chris moved as the blue eyes rolled back and the lids fluttered shut. He cradled Vin and wondered what that last look his face meant. What 'Chris' did Vin see?

"Let me have him, Chris," Nathan was out of breath, having run hard across the sand. "Chris?" He moved his hand in front of the dazed eyes.

"Huh?" Chris blinked, "Oh, he passed out."

"How was he?" Nate paused, feeling the rapid pulse and frowning. "I mean... when yuh pulled him up from the water. He reached up... was it our Vin?"

"Not then... but... just now... maybe ... I don't know, Nathan."

"Let's get him inside." He replied to the shaky voice, gripping the shoulder once.

The house was quiet, Vin was bathed, changed and sleeping in his own bed on fresh linen. Chris paced like a caged tiger, needing the eyes to open. He wanted to hear the cranky, crusty voice filling the room.

"He ain't gonna be up for hours, Chris, yuh best settle down." Nathan offered from the porch.

Chris rubbed the back of his neck and went outside, taking the chair opposite the weary healer. His arm rested on the window ledge, just on the other side of Vin. "You catching up on your reading?"

"Yeah, lots of comforting words in this old book," Nathan patted the bible. "Somethin' tells me yuh had some pretty good words of yuh'r own down there."

"I hope so, Nathan," Chris sighed, glanced at Vin's serene face and rose, irritated that he had to wait. "I can't sit. My brain's frying here, I need air." He gave Nathan a pat on the back and eyed the lighthouse a few miles away. He walked at the water's edge, letting his long strides carry him swiftly. His mind replayed the look of something akin to wonder on Vin's face just before he passed out. He absentmindedly stroked the spot on his cheek that the hand touched. Who did Vin see then? Who would he see when he woke up?

He stood for quite some time, letting the disturbing waves echo in his ears. The Old Lighthouse commanded a majestic view of the Pacific. The salt-laced spray danced in the air, kissing his face and neck. He leaned over the rail, hands clasped loosely and inhaled that wonderous scent. He enjoyed the scream of the sea as it pounded the rocks. He eyed two ships in the distance, whalers, most likely.

A soft smile enhanced his handsome face, when his son's voice interplayed with the call of the sea. He'd have loved this place, especially the boats. He turned his head back, eyeing the modest two story Cape Cod style house for the keeper. The old gent was up in the lantern tower and gave a wave. The cool green eyes brushed across the tall grass past the sand dunes and down the beach . His mind's eye saw Sara sitting on the sand, sketching. Adam was playing in the surf, laughing and pointing to the gulls. His forced smile was bittersweet, as these memories always were. The sweet rememberence of the glory that was and the painful wonder of all that could have been.

Vin. Sara and Adam disappeared into the mists of time and his best friend appeared. He sighed heavily, shivered as the air grew cooler. He eyed the long walk back to the beautiful beach front mansion and eased back down the stairs to the ground.

"Where's Chris?" J.D. asked, bounding into the small room.

"Shhhh!" Nate eased his long body from the chair next to Vin Tanner's bed. Although the tracker was sleeping, it wasn't an easy rest. His fine features were creased in pain, his hands balled in fists and small moans escaped his clenched lip. "He's in a lot of pain. Josiah back?"

"Yeah, he's in the kitchen." Dunne whispered. "Where's Chris?"

"Lighthouse... he's got a lot on his mind. Stay here, I need that tincture of Opium for when that pain wakes him up."

"Okay..." J.D. walked to the door, opened it and gazed down the long expanse of sand. The sun was easing down for her nightly bath and rippling gold and orange light covered his face. He squinted and saw the slumped shouldered figure. "Wow..." he appraised the distance, then turned back as the bed began to move. "Take it easy, Vin..." He moved closer, sitting on the bed and pressing his hands against the bare shoulders. The slim tracker's body was moving and he was losing small cries, but his eyes remained closed. Then he shoved hard, curling himself sideways and crying out, covering his temples. "Nathan!" He struggled with ailing figure, who was fighting to get free. "NATH..." His words were cut off as a fist hit his mouth. His foot was planted right and he fell backwards, allowing Vin to tumble from the bed. "Aw, hell..."

"J.D. What's wr..." Nathan flew by the youth, putting a dark bottle on the table next to the bed. "Vin, yuh gonna hurt yuhr'self... let me help, yuh..." he pulled at the wiry body, ducking as the fist flew out again. The eyes were open now, dark blue and wild. He was panting, losing what little breath could get past the fire in his chest. Grunts mixed with the unintellible noises, saliva ran from his mouth and his jangled limbs wouldn't cooperate in the escape attempt. "Stop it!"

He didn't know where he was, only that explosions of colors grew more intense as the pain in his head rose. It was a pulsating beast with long, sharp yellowed teeth, which was feeding on his brain and skull. He had to get away... go... somewhere... anywhere... to end it. Fight... fight... fight... his brain screamed at him for mercy. Confusion was king in this nightmare world. Until a voice rose over the raging storm.

"Vin!"

"Chr..." J.D. felt himself shoved aside, when lean black legs flew through the door.

"Vin, where you going? Cut that out!" Chris ordered, kneeling down and taking command of the scattered limbs. The tracker was on his hands and knees, trying to crawl. Nathan's left arm was snaked around his waist, he stood over him. At the sound of his voice, Vin stopped and turned, his chest was heaving, not getting enough air. His face was wet from sweat and tears and his eyes were dark and lost. "Vin?" He put both hands out defensively, not wanting to upset the struggling figure future. He turned his questioning eyes to the healer. "Nathan, is he... Vin?"

"He's in pain... don't matter who the hell he is... I got medicine for 'im, but I can't get 'im to listen." Nate winced as Vin screamed again, throwing himself sideways. The gagging started then, senting water and phlegm onto the floor. "Dammit..."

"Vin, get off the floor," Chris dropped down and grabbed one shoulder. The shaggy head swerved and twin orbs of blue agony beseechd him. They blinked and twitched, seeping salty tracks of anguish.

"Please... stop... it...." Vin couldn't see through the storm, but he knew the voice meant 'safe'. He lifted his arms and heard voices as the raging inferno continued. Then the explosions returned and he lashed out against the red and orange colors in front of his eyes. "No... no..."

"Christ Almighty!" the leader gritted, hauling Vin to the bed. He sat down hard, his back to the wall, holding the flailing body in front of him. He managed to get his arms around the squirming tracker, pinning the thrasing body. "Stop it!" He thundered, eyeing Nathan drawing up a syringe.

"Morphine," Nathan answered the question, "turn 'im Chris, I'll get his thigh. J.D. clamp down on that leg."

"Ahhhhh!!!!" Vin screamed, feeling another animal bite his skin. "No... no... get... 'way... kill y'all... I... I..."

"He's out," Nathan sighed, shook his head and moved away to clean the syringe. He turned back and the noticed Larabee hadn't moved. Tanner was slumped in his arms, his head lolling on the shoulder of the other. "Chris, he's sleepin'... yuh can let him go..." He paused, eyeing the white knuckled embrace on the tender ribs. "Let 'im go... yuhr hurtin' 'im."

"Huh?" Chris blinked, swallowed hard and let out a long breath. He hadn't realized his death grip was causing his friend discomfort. "Oh..." he gingerly eased Vin up and moved his lean body. Nathan moved in, holding the groggy man upright.

"Chris, hold 'im a minute. I want to clean up them back cuts and rewrap him."

Vin never moved while his wounds were tended to. Finally, freshly swathed, he was lowered agasint his pillows and a blanket drawn up. Chris watched with concern, when Nathan's hand rested against the Texan's forehead.

"Fever?"

"Nah," the healer answered, "But he's wore out... I don't think he'll be up before the sun."

"I ate in town," J.D. moved towards the pair standing by the bed. He pulled out two new dime store novels from his pocket and eyed the chair. "You two look beat. Why don't you get cleaned up and get some grub. Josiah's frying up some chicken and fixin's."

"Okay," Nathan agreed, "I'll be back to spell yuh later. Chris?" He got a nod and let the other man pass him.

Dinner was quiet, Josiah regaled the group with stories of his travels in India. Buck, Ezra and Chris played cards for awhile, before the mustached man's leg pain became unbearable. Nathan helped Buck into bed and was glad to see Vin was still sleeping.

"You're crowdin' us..." Buck assessed, seeing both Chris and Nathan lingering. "I'll bang on the wall."

"I'm sleepin' on the floor." Chris announced, turning to Nathan, who knew better than to argue.

"I'll get yuh a blanket and pillow."

Darkness filled the room and King Neptune's lullaby lulled the men to sleep.

Dawn stroked his cheek, letting her cool breath lift his hair as her sweet scent woke him. He blinked in confusion, his head was thick and full of muddied, muddled thoughts. He eyed the strange room and breathed heavily thought his parted, dry lips. It wasn't fully light yet, rather a deep blue. He turned his head painfully and saw a lump in the bed next to him. His heart hammered in his chest. Where was he? His numb brain wasn't awake, despite the pain. He tried hard to remember something, anything and it only caused the hammers of Hell to pound into his head harder. His hands unconsciously reached a spot to his right, fumbling on the wooden table. Where was it? He panicked, fingers roaming over the wood. Then a flash behind burning eyes. The pink treasure in his hand... by the water. He had to get it back... Teheno's last gift. He needed to hear that voice. He couldn't lost that! His stomach began to churn, hot acidic flames leaped upwards. He scrambled on unsteady legs, eyeing a body on the floor between the beds. He crawled to the foot, eased himself over and out the door. He staggered down a rocky path of flat stones and towards the shoreline. He dropped to his knees, tossing up air. Dry heaves wracked his body, causing the ribs to rebel and tears to sting his eyes. He saw glimmers of color near the rocks. Pink, white and pristine, they winked at him. He crawled further, hand out... reaching... reaching.... there it was!

Buck yawned and rolled over, his throbbing leg rousing him. He winced and grit his teeth, biting his lip as the pain rose. He turned his body, sitting up awkwardly, looking for water. Then he noticed the empty bed. "What the..." he croaked in confusion, then his eyes saw the shoreline "Fuck... Chris, CHRIS!" He screamed, thwacking the body next to his leg. "Vin's gone... he's in the water... Get him... Nathan!" He bellowed, beating his fist on the wall. "Chris you..." he was alone, the lean body, clad only in black pants, was already racing down the beach.

"VIN! VIN!" Chris screamed, watching the tracker's body disappear beneath the waves.

He was doing fine, the water was shallow, his fingers were almost on the treasure, when the floor dropped. The water was over his head and rushed into his unprepared nose and mouth. He sputtered, gagged and tried to fight the current, barely gaining a breath, when he was slammed again. He panicked then, realizing he was drowing. Through the blue blurry fog of the early morn, he saw hope flying at him fast.

"Chris!" He managed, waving one arm as the tide yanked him.

"Vin! Shit!" The leader dove, his strong arms pushing the waves away. Then this hands slapped skin and he latched on. Turning without stopping, he held onto to Vin with his left hand and propelled them with his right. The waves were brutal, filling his nose and mouth, gagging him, stealing his air, but he wouldn't let go. Then, just when he was about to pass out, he felt a strong pair of arms take his burden. He felt ground beneath his feet and sagged in relief. "I'm fine..." he choked, spitting up half the sea. "Vin... get... alive... Nath...an...." he collapsed on the sand gasping, still holding Vin. He was on his back and sat up, holding Vin in front of him.

"Yuh okay?" Nathan asked , slapping the slack face. "Wake up, get them eyes open!" He slapped again, harder, and a gush of salt water and air replied.

"I'm gonna be bald by the time we get home," Chris gasped, his shaky arms matching the tremor in his voice. "...damn him..."

"You guys okay?" J.D. dropped down, eyeing both his friends.

"Nathan?" Josiah arrived with blankets.

"I don't what he was thinkin'..." the other replied, watching the eyes blinking.

"...dead..."

"No," Chris answered the weak croak, "but you keep pullin' stupid stunts like this and I might be tempted..." He waited, but no reply came back. For now, he relished the feel of the heart beating through the skin pressed to his own. So close... he eyed the raging sea, angry at losing it's bounty. "too fuckin' bad..." he glared the tide down.

"Get out of my way!" Buck thwacked his crutches against Ezra as they both attempted to get out the door.

"Where are you going? You can't manuever those on sand."

"Don't intend to, that's where you come in," Wilmington hopped down the stone steps, gripping the rail.

"Menial labor at any hour is abhorrent." He flinched as the heavy arm was deposited over his shoulder. "at this hour, I find it most..."

"Shut up, Ezra..." Buck grit, wrinkling his nose. "What dead skunk did roll with?"

"I beg your pardon!" Standish moved steadily, getting them closer to the group. "That's imported from France. It's Eau de..."

"...polecat..." Buck supplied, "You paid for that? With real money? They saw you coming..." He paused, stopped and sighed in relief, seeing Vin and Chris both awake and breathing. "Tonight I'm nailin' his hide to that bed."

"I'll supply the nails." Ezra paused, "I may even pick up the hammer."

"You gettin' sunstroke?" Buck eased his body down on a rock next to Chris. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Chris managed, eyeing Nathan who shook his head. Vin wasn't fully aware yet. So he said nothing, continued to hold the younger man and waited.

Fog. Blurry bodies. Strange squawking sounds. Birds? Salty air. Strong current close by. Loud water... very loud. More birds. He inhaled the scented air and blinked, watching the foggy mix of colors leave. He licked his tongue around his mouth and frowned, spitting his tongue out.

"Pthht... pthht..." he spat, wrinkling his face. "...hell, I got sand and throw up in m'mouth." He frowned, scowled harder as more feeling returned to his recovering body. "...dammit t'hell... got sand up m'ass. Where the hell... are..." he paused at the strange collection of sounds around him. Strange birds diving and screaming, waves rolling in and his friends laughing, sighing and grinning. "...this ain't... home... this... this... ain't... no...where... s'goin' on..." he saw the glistening skin on the arm latched against his and protested. "Larabee! Let go o'me..." he wiggled, only to have a hand ruffle his wet hair. He heard the deep laugh and scowled even harder. "Shut the fuck up Buck... ain't funny..."

"Welcome back, Mister Tanner," Ezra smiled, patting his arm.

"Jesus, get down wind, Ez, ya stink right good!" He pulled back.

"I told you!" Buck crowed.

"Let me up," Vin fought the golden arms that held him and swatted the brown ones that reached in. "Get away... go find somebody what needs fixin'..." He managed to wiggle sideways and crab out of the gunslinger's grasp. He saw the strange look on his best friend's face. His features were a mask of relief and his eyes were in the middle of an answered prayer. He wrinkled his face at Josiah, eyeing the sling.

"Mornin' Brother," Sanchez grinned, eyeing the sand covered face.

"Vin, thank God it's you!" J.D. blurted.

"'course it's me," Tanner snapped, trying to stand, only to have a hand shove him back down. "Who was ya expectin'? What's wrong with y'all?" He snarled, "ya look like a pack o'jackasses chompin' on cactus," he noted of the odd grins. "Can't one o'ya tell me where the hell we are? What's s'damn funny?"

"...scrawny, naked, cussin', wet rat with sand up his ass..." Chris said, standing up.

"...Texas long haired variety!" Buck chuckled.

"I ain't hardly scrawny!" Vin ducked, when Nathan's leg appreared. "Get away from me..." he paused, eyeing his body. "Where's m'cloths? What's goin' on..." he turned, glaring at the normal trickster, "Buck, I'm gonna fry yer balls in fatback..."

"Now I did miss my traditional morning greeting," The rogue laughed. "that's the thanks I get. Marchin' through the damn sand, draggin' my bad leg behind me..."

"Your welcome!" Ezra huffed, "I assume you know the way back?"

"Hold it, all o'ya!" Vin hollered, then froze as the world spun around. He was on his knees and grabbed air, thwacking a body hard.

"Goddammit Vin!" Larabee hissed, dropping and hissing as the fist connected to his groin.

"Quit laughin'!" The confused patient misinterpreted, letting Nathan right him. He nodded in thanks when the blanket was wrapped around him. "Somebody tell me what's goin' on!" The water was cold and he was shivering.

"Let's get yuh warmed up and get some food in yuh," the healer advised. "We're in San Diego. We brung yuh here to help yuh get well. Yuh got a big dent in that hard head o' yuhrs... been playin' tricks with yuhr mind.

"San Diego!" Vin eyed the beach again, frowning. "...last thing I recall... is... is..." he cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. The images came back. A brutal beating in the desert. Pain... lots of it... a whip on his back... a bullet in his leg... pain in his head. One man's face answering every feverish call. One set of hands tending to him, saving him. Garrett's face over him... a gun in his mouth. The blond whirlwind that nearly paid the ultimate price. "...Major... Kelly... kilt... the bastard... t's his son... we... was... hurt... in the desert..."

"That did happen, Vin," Buck gentled, "a while ago. You've been very sick. Hell, you been tossin' Tanner puke all over me." He joked.

Vin puzzled at the blond, writhing on the ground. "'s'wrong Chris? Yer boys get twisted up?"

"Get... away... from... me..." The blond snarled through the stars in front of him.

"Fine," Vin pouted, leaning on Nathan, "...squat yer sorry ass there. Humph..." he eyed the scene, fleeting images of the blond pulling him from the jaws of death came into view. He hid a smile, "...next time I'll let ya drown... drag m'nekkid ass out here t'save ya..."

"What!" Chris squeaked watching Jackson's body quake in laughter, as he led the still muttering tracker back to the house.

The look of incredulation on Chris Larabee's face, sent his oldest friend into hysterical laughter.

"Shut up, Buck!" the blond muttered, waiting for the pins and needles to subside.

"It's like he never left," Buck noted, letting J.D. help him up and support him.

"You're wrong..." Chris whispered, still hearing the youthful Vin laughing at Teheno.

"You coming?" J.D. called back to the lone figure on the beach.

"In a minute." Chris drew his knees up, crossed his arms over them and watched the young adopted Indian boy leave. "Goodbye Blue Eagle..." he sighed and stood. Suddenly he was hungry and the sun never looked finer.

Josiah sat back and grinned, thinking that all of San Diego heard the laughter and boisterous voices. The morning had flown quickly. After a bath, new bandages, breakfast and a nap, Vin was now dressed and waiting for Buck. The others were gathered around the table, it would be a special meal. A thanksgiving of sorts.

The sun was high in the sky, a soft breeze settled on the seven. Vin seemed content with the explanation of his battered head and fever. He had no recollection of his trip to the past. For now, Nathan didn't want them to mention it.

"Today Tanner!" Chris roared, eyeing the mouth watering steaks, red, yellow and orange fried pepper strips, succulent, sweet onions and Spanish rice. A plate of roasted chicken seduced them as well.

"Yeah, Vin," J.D. shouted, "I'm starving!" he passed a plate of food around. Josiah was dishing out the tempting fajitas. Hot, fresh tortillas overflowed on a plates near the ends of the table. The youth noticed two large bugs on the plate in hand. Ducking, he saw none of the others were paying attention. He went to swat the bugs... "uh oh..." he passed the dish quickly, wondering where one of them disappeared.

"Did you see that?" Buck's voice rose from behind Vin in the doorway. The tracker was in tan pants, a mediterrean blue shirt and limping on semi-steady legs. "What?" he asked, seeing the devil dancing in the blue eyes. The sly grin was his reply, he chuckled and followed.

"Now there's a picture," Standish moved to let the two injured man get the end seats. "The blind leading the blind."

"Hurry up, will you?" Dunne clamored. "This smell is killing me..."

"Ezra, didn't you wash that stuff off?" Buck teased with a wink as the conman's jade eyes rolled. "Go on Vin, I need the end..." He grimaced, got down and handed Nathan his crutches. The former slave placed an empty chair next to the rogue and eased his leg up. "Thanks, Nathan."

Plates were passed around, sangria followed and the air buzzed with conversation. Chris moved off to the keg, to fill his beer mug. He returned just as the preacher moved. Josiah silenced them by standing. They placed the forks down and bowed their heads. "Lord, we offer our thanks to you on this fine day. For the food before us and the real bounty, gathered in seven, we praise you." His smokey eyes dropped down the table to the profile of the solemn sharpshooter. "Thank you," his voice was tight, "For we had a lost lamb, whose found his way home." There was silence, then a few amens.

"Can we eat now?" Dunne pressed.

"J.D. you ate enough for two lumberjacks at breakfast," Buck teased, "How can you be hungry?"

"I'm still growing," J.D. touted, "Old folks like don't require as much."

"You watch your mouth, Kid," the rogue warned, "or I'll beat you goodlooking."

Is there something wrong with your meal?" Ezra inquired, watching Tanner's brows furrow and his lips smack together with his tongue working the rim. His eyes raked over the rice on his plate. Nathan had warned him against anything but rice and some chicken.

"Hold on..." Vin took another spoonful and ran it around his mouth, "...can't be t'sure..."

"What are you analyzing?" the Southerner was now very interested, almost hearing the wheels turning in the shrewd tracker's head.

"Somthin' in here..." Vin's tongue worked his teeth again.

"I detected pepper, rosemary and a touch of lime..." the southern noted of his food

"Damn, Ezra," Nathan chuckled, "all I taste is Chicken!"

"Well?" the gambler leaned over, more than curious as to the ex-bounty hunter's investigation.

Vin held his finger up, took another forkful and sniffed it, then slid it in his mouth. Chris's eyes narrowed and his mug of ale halted on his journey to his mouth. Tanner was up to no good, he was sure of it. His eyes shifted to Buck, who was barely containing himself. His face was red from withholding air and compressed laughter. Then the greens slid to J.D. who looked like he wanted to disappear. Finally, they roamed back to the machiavellian ex-bounty hunter, who looked like he ingested a canary, rather than chicken. He pursed his brows as Tanner's blues met his eyes, and a slight hint of a smile played on the younger man's lips. He felt his own smile rising, as the play continued.

"Yup," Vin nodded, wiping his mouth. "I'm pretty sure, course I could be wrong. I got a real keen sense o'taste. He took one last taste and nodded, drawing his gaze to the curious card player. "...there was fly feets in here..."

"Fly feces!" Ezra repelled, jerking as Buck Wilmington exploded in pent up laughter.

"No!" Vin said crossly over the laughter, "fly feets, not feces. Feces is..."

"I know what feces is!" Ezra sputtered, "...are..." he corrected, shaking his head, face flaming at the riotous laughter. "Good Lord!" he ired that the tracker could undo his some easily.

"Well what'd ya ask fer then?" the blue-eyed trickster returned, staring in mock ire.

"I didn't inquire about insect droppings!"

"Ya did too!" Vin countered, "I heard clear as dirt. Ya said 'fly feces'... ain't that right 'siah?"

"Clear as dirt!" the preacher said somberly, eyes lit in warmth.

"See, 'siah wouldn't lie, not with the Lord hoverin' about." Vin decided, going back to his meal.

Chris sat back, crossed his arms over his chest and enjoyed the show. He left the smile on his face, it sat natural and easy. Born of the twinkle in the healing tracker's eyes and flourishing through the laughter within the circle. That wonderful sound carried on the salt air, over the ocean and out to sea. At this time, in this place, with these men, he felt closer to God than he thought would ever be possible. He kept his eyes on Tanner, who wasn't finished. The look on Ezra's face was priceless. The southerner was annoyed at himself for being drawn into the blue-eyed spider's web and now was trapped. Chris turned his gaze to Buck, who definitely knew what was going on. He narrowed his eyes and got a broad wink in return. Then the dark head nodded slightly to the youth next to him. The easterner looked like the kid caught with the rock by the owner of a store with a smashed window. Drawing on his beer, he felt his mouth turn up again, as he watched Tanner easily manuever the slick gambler.

"Somethin' wrong, Ez?" Vin asked innocently, taking a sip of iced tea.

"The feet in question," Standish waved a finger over the Texan's food, "on your food."

"What 'bout 'em?" Tanner lifted his fork, peered intently at the chicken, nodded and took another bite. "Oh, yeah... they's on this piece fer sure."

"You're full of shit, Vin!" Nate tossed his napkin down and laughed.

"Ya'll best not mock what ya don't understand." Vin replied, hiding a smile from all but Larabee. "...s'all a part o'the trainin' I got in the village," he noted of his youth.

"I seen yuh track in blizzards and rainstorms, on shale and dessert..." Jackson took the bottle of Sangria and poured himself more. "But yuh can't find no damn fly prints..."

"Was two of 'em," Vin stated, "...one's a mite heavier... went down hard, I reckon. The other was only dazed... he staggered fer a bit... tracks was fresher."

"Died?" Ezra chuffed, "this charade's gone on long enough! I think your fever has returned."

"...leastwise mine died a honest death, not like that lazy critter what's buried in yer rice."

"What!" Standish choked, having just taken a full mouthful of Spanish rice.

"He took one look at whose plate he was one and died of embarassment." The sharpshooter nodded somberly, while his friends laughed and pounded the table. "...can't say as I blame 'im."

"Your attempt at humor is sadly lacking," the conman plied, raking a fork through his rice. "There is no corpse..."

"Not now they're ain't," Vin plussed, "...ya ate 'im... ya might wanna wash yer mouth, sometimes parts of 'em can get stuck 'tween yer teeth..."

"I think I would have known if I ingested a fly!"

"Ya didn't ' 'gest all of 'im," Vin was trying hard not to laugh, as his slim hand moved towards Ezra's rice. "see, here's a wing..." he picked up a small, translucent piece from the rice and eyed it briefly, before eating it. "...he weren't dead long, still crunchy."

"Yuck it up, Gentlemen," Ezra drolled, "enjoy yourself at my expense."

"That was an onion, Ezra" J.D. blurted, finally finding his voice. "they weren't even on your plate."

"They?" Josiah turned, watching Buck gasp for breath. His face was flushed and tears streamed down his cheeks. "You okay there, Brother?"

"Never better, Preacher," the rogue gasped, winking at Vin and elbowing the blushing sheriff. "You got something to confess, Kid?"

"It was an accident, I was trying to shoo 'em off Vin's dish and I smashed 'em. But I got 'em all out... well... most of 'em. The big one sort of spattered." He cringed, "Sorry Vin."

"S'okay by me, J.D.," Vin grinned, "I traded plates with Chris, while he left t'get that beer."

"What?" Chris's smile died and he fell forward, looking at his empty plate.

"Gotcha, Cowboy!" Vin pounded the table as his friends once again dissolved in laughter. "Damn, ya shouldda seen yer face!" He chortled, shaking his head.

"Fly feet indeed!" Ezra mumbled, pushing his plate away.

"Had ya goin' fer awhile, admit it, Ez," Vin elbowed him, then wagged his eyebrows.

"My stance was never in doubt." the other huffed, sipping his wine.

"Yer full o'sh... feces, Ez," Vin corrected.

"Fly feces..." Buck wheezed, slapping Dunne's knee. "Lighten' up, Kid, will you?"

"That wasn't funny, Buck," the flushed youth accused, "you set me up!"

"Come again?" Wilmington shoved steak, peppers, onions, chedder cheese and avocado pulp onto a hot tortilla and rolled it up.

"Think ya got that backwards, J.D.," Vin pushed his half full plate away. His stomach was iffy. "Yer the one what kilt them bugs and passed 'em off. That ain't exactly neighborly."

"Fly feets..." Chris shook his head, sat back and winked at his best friend. The smile he got in return restored the fuel he'd lost in the desert. The conversation continued, laughter rose and more alcohol was consumed. Chris noticed Vin hadn't eaten much and he'd grown quiet. Nathan noticed as well and stood, walking around the table.

Vin didn't want to make a scene. He was enjoying himself, despite feeling sick. The sun was lower and shifted, now hitting his face. The pain in his head intensified and made him queasy. Nathan warned him and the mirror confirmed the serious head wound. The healer told him it would be a few weeks until he was healed. He sighed and rose, waving the other man off. He wasn't about to heave all over the table.

"Think I'll head inside, it's past m'nap time." He turned to Nathan, 'I'm okay..."

"Yeah," Nathan returned the smile, eyeing the new healing light on the face before him. "Yuh sure are. I got something for that belly... settle it down some."

"Okay..." Vin agreed, carefully walking back to the door. He followed Nathan down the hall and into his room. He watched Nathan fumbling through his large bag, then mixing something into water. He moved closer, eyeing the dreamcatcher over the ex-medic's bed.

"Hey, ya got a dreamcatcher," he noted, "...them knots, they guide the good dreams... so they find they're way. The bad ones don't know the way... get lost... tangled up..." He eyed the hair tied to the item and fingered it. His eyes grew large and he turned, taking the cup with a trembling hand. "Where'd ya get it?" he rasped, a small hole forming in his gut.

"From an old friend," Nathan smiled warmly, seeing Vin recognize his hair. He tipped the cup and the tracker drank all of it. "who taught me a lot about faith and hope. Yuh could say, we saved each other."

"Yeah," Vin managed, "Nathan... when... I mean... I don't remember..."

"When we first came here... I was having' bad dreams. Yuh made that... used yuhr' own hair." He paused taking a good breath. "Come on," the healer led him back to his own bed and waited until he was settled. "...nightmares about the war. Guess they was hidin' inside and that train wreck... seeing all them body parts, opened the wound. Yuh see Vin, there was too many of 'em. We was taught only to tote the ones who could be saved. At first, I used t'look at 'em. They'd tug on m'pants... beggin' for help... a hand... didn't wanna die alone. The young ones... asked... cried for their Mama... holdin' their guts in with one hand and reachin'..."

"Nate, don't..." Vin whispered, his own hand reaching out, the other on his gut.

"'s'okay, Vin, I learned it helps to talk about it... more I speak on it... less the pain is..." He paused, "After we brung yuh back to town, from the desert, yuh damn near died on us. Fevered bad... out of yuhr head... seein' yuhr family murdered. When Chris found yuh out there... yuh thought yuh were back in time... with them... that night."

"Aw, hell," Vin slumped, blinking hard. "All this time... until... this mornin' in the ocean?"

"Yuh thought Chris was someone named Teheno," he offered reverently, as if in prayer. He saw the eyes flash with emotion, fingers gripped the edge of the blanket and the Adam's apple bobbed at record rate. "It's okay, Vin, yuh needed that... then... at that place."

"I thought... I dreamed... it wasn't... a dream?"

"No, Vin," he offered with a pat to the other's man's knee. "Yuh had that same pain I did, hid down inside real deep. Yuh got hurt bad, all alone... in that desert... yuh heard someone call t'yuh... yuh heard and saw who yuh needed at that time to survive."

"He never came back," Vin choked, tears burning his eyes. "All these years... I wondered what he thought when he found them. He left... gave me his only son... my responsiblity..."

"It wasn't yuhr fault," the kind brown eyes offered over the voice.

"No," Vin said in a strange voice, "it... wasn't... I... fer years... couldn't think about it... felt like a knife was rippin' m'insides up." He ran his hand over his flat abdomen, under the bandages. "...it ain't there no more... How... can that be?" He implored , turning his eyes to the other man. "Nathan, I don't understand."

"This place," he rolled his dark eyes towards the beach. "is a healing place. I think yuh know who plugged up that hole. Yuh get some rest, now. Yuh got plenty of time to talk to him about it."

"I miss him," He noted sadly of his lost brother, eyeing the surf.

"Yeah," Nate nodded, "I know, Vin. I lost some brothers and sisters too. They was sold off... torn right from my grandmother's arms."

"Aw, hell, Nathan, I didn't mean t'stir that up."

"Yuh didn't, Vin, it was a long time ago. Get some rest, I know yuhr hurtin'..."

"Okay, thanks Nathan,' he yawned, wondering about the unanswered questions.

"No, thank you Vin Tanner," he smiled, "Yuh caught all m'bad dreams. Yuh took m'pain away... man can't ask for a better brother than that." He took that boyish smile that greeted him with him outside and rejoined his friends.

Part Sixteen

The new day brought a smiling sun and golden light shimmering on cerulean water. The breeze lifted, thaking the man's breath away. Behind him, his five friends were gathered around the table, talking and laughing. This place, this seaside mecca, brought them together in a way he'd not thought possible. Whether it was the salt in the air, the call of the ocean or the spiritual feeling the combination brought, it worked. They were more relaxed and open than he'd ever seen them, in the time they'd ridden together. He needed that feeling, now more than ever. It was the glue holding his broken soul together. A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump.

"You okay, Nathan?"

He lifted his lips at the concern in the leader's voice. He nodded, took a lungful of the magical air and turned.

"I'm more than alright, Chris," he grinned, "I ain't felt this good in... I don't know how long. There's something special about this place..."

"Yeah," the blond sighed, squinting into the morning sun. "Vin's still sleeping, but the others are up, Miguel and Maria just brought breakfast out." He patted his flat abdomen, "I keep eating like this, I'll need new clothes."

Nathan grinned and turned, walking back through the sand to where the others sat waiting. "I don't think we'll see Vin for awhile yet, he ain't used to bein' up so late."

"Sure was a night to remember," the gunslinger agreed, his lip turning up at the lingering echoes of the bawdy tales, loud laughter and many bottles of sangria consumed. They'd gathered on the beach after dinner. J.D. got a bonfire started and they sat and celebrated. They shared dreams, past and future; recalled old loves lost and new hope of what would come. Despite the fact he was only drinking fruit juice, Vin's injuries sent him to bed before the others. Still, he'd lasted quite some time. Even sharing some of his childhood memories. One brought a smile to his face, as he recalled the light in the tracker's eyes as he spoke of his beloved older brother, Teheno.

"...reckon I was a mite of an itch," a comment that brought rousing returns, causing the speaker to laugh, "...I followed Teheno everywhere, askin' questions 'bout huntin', trackin', animals, shootin', fightin'...man had patience, I can tell ya that." He'd paused then, smirking and then chuckling, "...well, 'cept fer the times when I run off on m'own, tryin' to hunt buff's or follow him into battle. ...his eyes get all crossed, he's start cussin' and be mumblin' about nailin' m'hide t' a tree." Then his face fall for a moment, as shadows passed over it. They'd all seen the sadness in his blue eyes, before he recovered."

Nathan took his seat and Chris's eyes went to the window. Vin was propped up on pillows, nearly sitting, so he could breathe easier. His features were relaxed in slumber, the fading bruises marking him in shades of yellow and green. He thought of those six years when Teheno had been Vin's role model. Most of what he knew today, the brave friend whose moral fiber was second to none, came as a result of the skilled hands of that warrior. He turned away, looked at the horizon and nodded.

"Thank you..." he whispered, still hearing 'Blue Eagle's' laughter in his head.

"You say something, Chris?" J.D. asked, shoving a hunk of hot corn bread in his mouth.

"No," he sighed, took his seat and picked up a napkin

The soft breeze stole into the room like a silent thief, using it's long fingers to tickle the victim's nose. It twitched, the lips followed and a groan sounded. Smells, wonderful smells of hickory smoked bacon, cheese and onion fluffy eggs, potatoes fried with spices, hotcakes and cornbread, assaulted him. Two blue eyes opened, as a hand ran across the bandaged chest. The belly was empty, growling loudly. "Aw, hell, nobody woke me up!" He mumbled, eyeing his friends outside eating. Their plates were piled high with the tempting food, only causing him get agitated. "HEY! How come ya didn't wake me?" He put his legs over the side, eyeing the next bed with confusion. It was stripped. He roamed again, looking for his clothes,while trying to shake the dizziness away. "Where's m'pants... don't let Buck eat all them hotcakes... I'm comin' right out! I'm starved."

"Yuh'll stay put, I'll bring yuhr breakfast in there." Nathan tossed his napkin and rose.

"Good Luck, Brother," Josiah offered, holding up his coffee in a toast. "You'll need it." He, like the others, prepared for the wrath of Tanner.

"How yuh feeling?"

"Hey Nate!" Vin sat up straight, winced, sniffed the wonderous aroma and scratched his arm. He needed to sate he wicked itch under the bandaged burn.

"Leave that be, it's healin' good!"

"It itches..." Vin protested, eyeing the window again. "I'm starved, can I have somethin' t'eat?"

"Sure."

"Where's m'pants? I can't see 'em." He looked around the room again.

"Yuh don't need 'em, I'll bring yuh a tray. I want yuh t'stay put this mornin', okay?"

"Good," He sat back, making a mental list. " I'll have a pile of bacon, crisp but not burnt... a mess o' scrambled eggs from the middle, where the cheese's runnin' through 'em... a big pile of them fried taters... cripsy like with some peppers and onions... some toasted corn bread slather with butter..." He paused, raking his keen eyes on the table.

"Anythin' else?" Nathan asked seriously, arms crossed over his chest.

"Well," he paused, rubbing his concave abdomen, "I guess ya can add a pile of hot cakes, with butter and maple syrup." He stopped and drilled the other's blank face, "Ya ply the cakes with lots of butter 'tween each one."

"...'tween each one," the wise healer repeated with a straight face, despite the smirking one's outside that met his gaze.

"...make sure ya let the butter melt first so's it runs into the syrup good." Vin used his hands, his animated eyes already seeing his full plate. "Ya got that?"

"Every word," the ex-slave replied without breaking his stone stance. The smirks outside exploded into laughter, nearly cracking his stoic stance and giving his patient a frown.

"What the hell are them jackasses laughin' s'hard at?" He cocked his head, "Ya ain't writin' this down, ya gonna remember it all?"

"Like a steel trap," he tapped his head, while his eyes noted Buck, Josiah and Ezra winking at him. He moved off, leaving his victim unaware.

Vin's hungry eyes went to the window again, watching the large, colorful Mexican platters laden with food. Buck waved to him, syrup running down a full fork of hotcakes. Josiah nodded, lifting three pieces of smoked bacon and Ezra lifted his glass of orange juice. He heard footsteps and sat up, his mouth watering. He could taste that food and absentmindedly licked the syrup running from his lips. Nathan entered the room, bearing a tray covered with a cloth.

"That's a sin," Buck lamented, looking at Vin's eager eyes. "He's droolin' right down that chicken chest of his."

"Nathan knows what he's doing, Buck," Chris replied, without looking up from his plate.

"Buck, did you leave your gun in there?" J.D. asked, watching Nathan put a tray over Vin's waist.

"No, why?" The rogue replied, just before the fireworks went off.

"What the Hell is this shit!" Vin piped up angry, his blue eyes flashing. He heard the loud laughter outside as his friends seemed to celebrate his misery. He eyed the bland pile of runny food and lost his appetite. The laughter seemed to get louder, only fueling his ire. "Shut the fuck up all y'all vultures. Out there fillin' yer faces like fuckin' kings." He hollered, tossing his fork in timed line, hitting the back of a blond head. He turned his wrath to the man next to the bed, who seemed ten feet tall. "I ain't eatin' this!" He rebelled, glaring. "Hell, it looks like somebody already ate it and threw it back up!" He wrinkled his nose, running a spoon through warm porridge. "cereal and fuckin' crackers... that's prison food. Hell, I bet they don't even put up with this shit."

"Ah," Ezra managed, amidst the riotous laughter. He raised his glass of orange juice and champagne, "Gentlemen, I offer a toast, to the return of our quaint town's resident poet laureate."

"I'll drink to that!" Josiah said, the others agreeing.

"I want real food. I got my rights!" Vin snarled, shoving the tray away.

"Outside that door," Nathan pointed, using a calm, low voice. "Is America, a democracy. In here, I'm the king and you'll do what I tell yuh." He loomed over the bed, his dark eyes angry and every inch of his tall frame exuding power. He saw the ire fading and the Texan's resolve disappearing quickly. "Yuh messed every bed in this room last night. If it wasn't flyin' out yuhr mouth it was shootin' out the other end. All over me, Buck and the bed. I ain't got no more clean beds and I ain't wastin' anymore time wipin' that ungrateful ass of yuhrs So until that fickle belly settles down, yuh'll eat shit if I put it in front of yuh and yuh'll like it! Yuh got that? Any questions?"

Vin stared at the heaving brown shirt at his eye level and then slumped. His foggy brain cleared up, giving visions of the night prior. A world of pain exploding in his head and through his hot, aching chest. First his own bed, two hands tending him. Then later, in Buck's bed, the other man never said a word. Just held him, while Jackson cleaned him. He'd been so dizzy he couldn't move, the room was spinning so hard. He floated awhile, hearing Nathan shuffle Buck to the next room. In a daze of hot agony, he felt the two strong hands move him to a pile of quilts on the floor. Those same hands tipped the cold mug to his lips, letting him drink water and medicine. Soft and comfortable, he felt into the bed , knowing the healer was guarding over him. He slumped in defeat, knowing every word was true.

"I forgot yuhr tea, it's got belly quieters in it, I'll be right back," Nathan said, turning to leave.

"...can hardly wait..."

"What was that?" He paused, one hand gripping the knob.

"Nuthin'" Vin sighed, as Nathan left. The meal outside had grown quiet. Josiah and Ezra departed for town. Vin's mind wandered again. Sure, he'd gotten sick, but he felt better. How would he ever get stronger, if he didn't get real food? A little eggs couldn't hurt. He eyed the trio and zoned in on his prey. Chris and J.D. continued to eat heartilty. Buck faltered, eyeing poor soul in bed, starinag hard at him. The sad blue eyes and crestfallen features burned a hole in him. Twice his fork full of eggs and potaotes got to his mouth, before dropping back down. He watched Vin sigh heavily and manage a weak smile. His heart ached and he picked up a smaller plate, eying the platter of eggs next to him. He picks up the fork again and a hand clamped on his wrist.

"No."

"Aw, Chris, a little can't hurt." He flinched, feeling the strength in the hand gripping his wrist. "He's starvin', that shit Nate gave him wouldn't fill a bird."

"No!" the blond repeated louder, lifting his hot green eyes to the large hearted Wilmington's. He kept his hand locked on the sympathizer's wrist, until he saw the dark head nod.

The keen tracker waited, then put all of his sorrow into his features, as the weak link's head rose up. "Hey, Bucklin," he offered feebly, casting sad eyes. "How ya feelin'? I'm sorry 'bout last night... feel awful... ya okay?"

"Buck!" Larabee hissed, seeing the other man's face lose all it's color. The hand wavered and moved to the empty plate again. "I'm warning you...."

"Don't mind me, I'll be okay, iffen I don't pass out from hunger. Never felt s'weak, gettin' awful dizzy..." Vin moved a hand over eyes, peeking through his fingers at the guilty face of Buck Wilmington. His heart rose, it was working! He sighed, blinked and remained crestfallen, keeping his saddest face on for the larger man's benefit "That bread sure smells good... even that sad, lil' crust on the end. Reckon it's goin' down real easy."

"Aw, hell, Chris, a little won't hurt him," the heartbroken man dumped eggs on plate and a small piece of hot bread.

"You're a woman, Buck," the leader growled, grabbing the plate away.

"...and you're a coward," the rogue fired back, pointed a fork at the guilty blond leader, "you planted you ass over on that side, so you wouldn't have to see his face." He saw Larabee's features tighten and zoned in, "Yeah, you don't have to look at them damn hounddog eyes... you're yellow, Chris Larabee."

He saw the eyes flicker an the hand flexed on the table. "Hah..." he scoffed , knowing he was right.

"I think you have a short memory Buck," J.D. said, buttering another roll, despite Vin's eyes trained on the dripping butter.

"You forgetting that mess he made last night!" Chris rebelled, "...how bad it smelled, all over you, him and the bed." He leaned over the table. "I know that leg's bothering you. Nathan wants you resting it this afternon. He's gonna douse you with laudenum. The room you two are sharing will suddenly get real small. You want him firin' out of both ends again?" He shoved the plate back to the thinking gunman, "It's your funeral. Go ahead, feed that long-haired weasel."

"Sorry Vin..." Buck's voice was sincere.

"Go to Hell!" Vin sauced, suddenly over his 'weakness'. His eyes fired up, " ...all of yall. I ain't fergettin this... I got a long memory. Yer cruel bastards... met vultures with more manners. Eatin' in front of a dying man."

"Christ almighty, Tanner!" Chris growled loudly, "quit bitchin', you're far from dying..."

Vin was about to return fire, when the door opened. The healer returned with a pot of simmering tea. He put the mug on the tray and narrowed his brown eyes. Vin opens his mouth to protest the bitter concoction, when a brown index finger appeared in front of his face.

"Say one word," Nathan warned, in a stern tone.

"Aw, hell," Vin surrendered, picking up his spoon and lifting a forkful of hot cereal.

"That's two words Vin." Chris teased, flinching as a spoonful of cereal hit the back of his head.

"No!" Nathan warned, seeing the blond turn with a large serving spoon full of mushy pancakes and syrup.

The morning drifted by, and while the others explored the house or baked in the healing sun, Vin Tanner slept. With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes. Yawning, he scratched his chest and sat up, tugging on a pair of pants that was left on the chair near his bed. Barechested and barefoot, he stood, swaying a bit and flinching at his headache. He saw a pitcher across the room, it's pewter sides full of condensation. He poured two full mugs of fruit juice, before heading out onto the porch. The small garden off the porch, where his friends usually gathered around the table, was empty. Frowning, he made his way back inside, taking unsteady steps. He eyed both ends of the long hall, the thick stucco walls bringing a comforting coolness. He heard voices to the left and let his feet lead him.

The library in the house was large and well stocked. It was a man's room, loaded with overstuffed leather chairs, bronze sculptures and a large desk. In the far corner, was a set of gaming tables. Designs were inlaid on the tops, of backgammon, checkers and chess. Nathan's long legs were crossed comfortably in front of him, a blue curl of smoke rising above his cigar. It was almost two p.m. and lunch was long done. A tray of fruit, cheese and nuts sat untouched on the table by the far wall. Shelves, rising twenty feet high spanned the room, leather bindings in a variety of colors shelled the books contained on them. A few feet away, J.D. and Buck were playing checkers, while Josiah and Ezra did battle over the backgammon table. His brown eyes drifted to the far end of the room, where Chris Larabee sat alone. He was sprawled in a dark burgundy leather chair, his tapered fingers draped over the dark green spine of a novel. It was the same color of the shirt he wore. The keen-eyed healer noted that for twenty minutes, there had been no page movement. He watched for ten more, counting the flinches of pain and the back movement. Sighing, he deposited the cigar into an ashtray, took a long sip of his brandy and stood.

"Any good?" he noted of the novel, Dumas's The Man in the Iron Mask. Chris looked up, shrugged and tossed the book on the marble-topped table to his left. Their eyes met, neither spoke, and he nodded to the shoulder. The blond didn't move when he slid his brown fingers under the shirt and gently prodded the injured flesh between the shoulder and neck. Larabee's sharp hiss and his fingers gripping the arms of the chair gave him an answer. "Yuh ain't no child," he addressed the almost guilty green eyes that shied away. "I told yuh when I put that sling on, about damagin' them muscles. It's yuh'r choice, keep that sling on and let it heal or yuh'll carry that pain until they plant yuh."

"I know..." Chris agreed, sorely missing the support the canvas sling brought. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his injured side.

"Can I have a look?" Nathan waited until the head nodded and the slim fingers unbuttoned the green shirt. He helped the gunslinger ease the shirt off and then took the bandages off as well. "Yuhr' sides healin' good... can't same the same for that shoulder," he pressed gently and the other man jumped.

"Christ that hurts, Nathan!"

"Yuhr lucky Vin was so bad off himself when he used that blade," Jackson relayed, easing the shirt back on. "it was deep enough to cut muscle... a little deeper or over a few inches... couldda killed yuh." He shook his head and rewrapped the injuries.

J.D.'s dark head rose, watching the former slave tending to their leader. "What are we gonna tell Vin about that?"

"We're not," Buck replied quickly, double jumping the red disc's on the board.

"But what if he remembers? I mean he's been having bad dreams." He paused, seeing Chris's expression turn sharp. "Well, wouldn't it be better coming from us?"

"Could be he won't remember at all," Wilmington pressed, "There's no reason for him to know about that."

"I think you're both wrong," He eyed the pair, "I think we should tell him. If he finds out on his own or something, he's gonna be hurt."

"What should we say, J.D.?" Larabee boomed, angry that his gut instincts told him this boy was right, "Oh, by the way Vin, you put a bullet in me, shoved a knife in my shoulder and damn near slit Buck's throat... yeah, that'd help."

"What's wrong with you?" The youth countered, leaving the game and moving to the middle of the room. "You're supposed to be his best friend. How would you feel if it was you? Keeping a secret like that is wrong. Sins by omission are the most painful sins of all..."

"The boy's right," Josiah sided with the sheriff. "He's gonna find out and unless it comes from you or Buck, he's gonna be hurt."

The figure in the hall pressed his back to the wall. His hammering heart kept time with his throbbing chest and head. Suddenly, the thick walls didn't keep the heat out, as he felt his skin burning. Sweat poured down his face, as the words from his best friend hit him like flaming bullets. He swayed, staggered and stumbled down the long hall, retracing his path. Every shallow breath seemed laced with fire. Images flashed in his head: a knife raised high, Chris's face below, greens eyes full of fear, the blade descending, sinking into soft flesh.

"...God..." he croaked, falling to his knees as the world spun around at a dizzying pace. Then another face appeared, pale skin with cheeks scored with fever. A weak body unable to defend himself centered by two dark blue eyes. They burned into him, the pale lips forming the words 'No... don't...' His own fingers wrapped around a blade and pressing it into Buck Wilmington's throat, with one intention. The realization hit him hard, slamming him into the black void of the netherworld. He surrendered easily, the staggering fact that he'd nearly killed two of his closest friends in cold blood, crippled what was left of his healing body.

"Well?" J.D. called the gunslinger out, as surely as if it was high noon in the center of town.

"Alright, holster them eyes, Kid," Larabee grunted, "I'll talk to him later." He sat back, then spotted Buck, who looked like he'd been mortally wounded. The healer was already approaching him, eyeing the hand rubbing the raised, injured leg.

"J.D., there's a pile of canvas cut in Josiah's room," Jackson called over, "Can yuh get me one for Chris?" Seeing the dark head nod, he turned back to Wilmington, fingering the hot flesh rising around the wound. "Yuh been takin' too many liberties. Yuh gotta rest, stay off the leg. I know it's hurtin' yuh... I'm gonna dose yuh with Laudenum..."

Buck nodded his head, the pain in his leg wasn't bothering him as much as the one inside. "I don't like it," he said to his oldest friend, who merely gave his shoulder a tug.

"I know, Buck, I don't either, but it has to be done." He felt Wilmington's flesh tense under this fingers and gave another tug. "You get some rest, I'll talk to him."

"No," the resolve in the voice matched that in the stormy blue eyes, as they rose up to meet the bothered green ones. "I want to be there, I got a stake in this too. I don't know what I'm gonna say. Looking in them eyes of his is gonna hurt worse than this leg. But I need him to feel... know it's okay." He saw a hint of a smile then, as Chris Larabee answered the feelings he felt inside.

"Nathan!"

"Shit, what now!" Chris vexed, racing to follow the youth's voice. "What happened?" He pressed, dropping to the fallen man's side.

"I don't know, I found him like this," J.D. wiped his fingers on his pants. "He's soaked..."

"His pulse is racing," Larabee's fingers trailed over the pale, exposed slick flesh of Tanner's throat. "He's shaking like a leaf..." He moved his hands to the shoulders, attempting to lift Vin.

"J.D. move on outta there, let me get at him," Jackson commanded, dropping Buck on the bed.

"What happened? Did he fall? Is he okay?"

"I don't know yet, Buck!" the healer frustated, too harshly. His fingers moved from Vin's throat to his heart and then lifted each eye. He didn't miss the trembling body. "I can't figure it..." he moved again, looking at the leader. "Chris, give me a hand, we'll put him back in bed. J.D...." he grunted, easing Vin's slack body up and against his chest. One strong hand gripped the wet chest firmly. "...take that empty basin and get me some cool water." Once Vin was deposited, he went to work. He wiped the excess moisture off with the cool cloth. One hand lifted the wet head, while the other guided the cloth over the Texan's fine features. Gently, he lowered him back down, turning to the conerned faces. J.D. eased Larabee's arm into the sling. The gunslinger sat next to his best friend, his sandy brows furrowed in concern. "He's in shock..."

"Shock?" Chris repelled, screwing his features up. "How?"

"Bad dream perhaps?" Ezra said quietly, shaken by the change in the crusty figure they'd seen at breakfast.

"Maybe..." Nathan sighed, took Vin's pulse again and shook his head. "Chris, keep an eye on him. Buck, I'm gonna get yuh somethin' for that leg. The rest of yuh scatter, he don't need a crowd. He's gonna be okay. His pulse is slowin' down a bit. Could have been a bad dream. Lord knows that boy's been through Hell and back... Go on..." he shooed them, protecting the sensitive tracker. Twenty minutes later, Buck was snoring softly, the curtains lifted and fell, sending a breeze over the bed. Larabee let for a moment and as he restocked his medical supplies, he saw the lean man return. His eyes narrowed, zoning in on the pink item tucked in the strong hand.

"The day I came, when he didn't see... when Teheno left," Chris answered the gaze, caressing the cleaned up shell. "I knew how hard it was for him to let this go. That took courage, Nathan, real courage. He was lost, alone, grieving, yet he trusted me... me, still a stranger... that much..." he paused, licked his lips and eyed the troubled man in bed. "...with his s..s..oul." He bit his lip and it took several mintues to regroup. Then he chuckled softly and lifted his face, "Truth is Nathan, I wasn't ready to let this damn thing go."

Nathan returned the smile, broad and warm and nodded, watching the blond slip outside. He eyed the restless surf for several moments, letting the wind stroke his face and hair. Then he turned back, moved the chair against the window and settled down. He pushed his good arm through the window and rested his hand next to his brother's. He lifted the slack fingers and curled them over the shell. He left his hand nearby, aiming it where the troubled gaze would fall when the sky eyes opened. Then he turned his face to the sun and shut his eyes, letting the soft call of the surf and the caw of the gulls, ease his troubled mind.

Nathan envied that, the bond the young men shared was a deep and mysterious one. Wisely and with that much care, Larabee offer was the first thing Tanner would see, when he opened his eyes. That was powerful stuff and might be the best medicine that could be provided. He moved away, seeking some time alone. Truth be told, he didn't have the answers they required. He could sew skin, mold broken bone together and soothe tempered fevers. As he reached the front of the house, he eyed the magnificent garden and headed there. Amidst the explosion of color in the flowers that graced the beautiful landscape, he eyed his two open palms. How do you fix a broken soul? The colors of the flowers around him hinted at the shading of blue in the Texan's emotive eyes. He thought of those windows, rose his head to the sky and asked for guidance.

Like snowflakes, every sunset was shaped, designed and created to be different. This magnificent one was no exception. The pale green eyes drank in the sight, his handsome bronzed face turned to the sea. He lifted the glass of sangria and took a sip, it's fruity body mingling freely with his taste buds. He savored the sweet flavor, letting it slowly slide down his windpipe.

The preacher paused a moment, eyeing the two friends. One pale and withdrawn, the other's skin golden, yet housing a troubled soul. Vin's chest rose and fell, his fingers clasping a pink shell. Perhaps in his unconscious, it was giving hiim some peace. He moved on, pausing in the doorway as the blond man looked up.

"Go on and eat, Chris, I'm overdo on my ponderin' anyhow."

"...not very hungry," Larabee decided, stretching out his long legs.

"You been sittin' there all day, Chris," he tried, "even a Larabee butt gets numb."

Chris smiled and a soft chuckle slipped out. He shifted and wrinkled his nose, as his 'numb butt' reminded him how long he'd been sitting. His eyes slid to the still unmoving arm on the bed.

"Some things are worth it," he squinted into the sun, watching Sanchez smile.

"Yeah, I guess there are at that," he paused, "Can I fix you a platter? Bring it out to you?"

"Thanks," he agreed, listening as the heavy footsteps faded away.

He waited until Josiah left and let out a deep breath. He'd heard the words and waited. He knew as he swam back to the waking world, what his fingers held. His thumb and index finger brushed over the cool, rough texture; his smallest finger pressed against something warm and soft. He peeled an eye open and saw the green sleeve and the hand. Without even realizing it, his body relaxed. His eyes moved then, taking in the strong profile. The scarlett and orange from the departing sun reflected wisely on the well honed features. He was luckier than most men; some went all their lives and never had this. It only hurt more, knowing how close he'd come to killing this new brother he'd found.

Chris flexed his back and winced, before standing and stretching. He groaned and rubbed his shoulder, then saw a pair of tired blue eyes. He watched as the tracker's arm moved, taking the precious shell upwards, until it rested against his heart.

"Thanks," Vin managed, swallowing hard.

"You're welcome," Chris returned, easing his lanky frame inside. "Thirsty?" He saw the head dip once and filled a mug with cold water. He waited until it was drained and took the mug back. "What happened Vin?"

Vin sighed and bit his lip, dropping his head. The sharp memories returned, the blade raised, the blond's face twisted in pain; Buck's dark eyes full of fear. Unconsciously, the shell moved to his ear.

"Please... please... I need your words, Teheno".

"Bad dream?" Chris guessed, watching the blue saucers full of pain.

"...nightmare..." Vin managed, pulling the shell back onto his lap.

"Might help to talk about..."

"No!" Vin interrupted with a sharp whisper.

"Okay, Vin," the other recognized the near panic in the eyes and withdrew. "I'm here, if you change your mind."

Vin lifted his head and poured his emotions through his eyes, "Thanks, Chris."

The silence was deafening. Chris leaned against the doorway, looking down the beach. Something was very wrong. Something was hurting Vin Tanner and the stubborn son-of-a-bitch was holding onto it. He wanted to wait him out, .but it sure hurt...hurt like hell. Sighing in frustration, he raked a hand through his fair hair, lightened by the sun. "Talk to me, Cowboy."

"I can't!" Vin's panic escaped, despite his best efforts. Chris turned away, but not before Vin saw the deep hurt in those seagreen eyes. "Aw, hell, Chris, I'm sorry... I didn't mean t'turn yer head." He waited and the black cloaked legs moved towards the bed. He held his arm up and clasped the forearm, sighing in relief. "I need some time... I can't... jes' gimme a little time..."

"...as long as it takes..." Chris agreed, moving away. "I'm gonna let Nathan know you're awake," he paused in the doorway. "He was pretty worried."

Vin found a small smile then, knowing full well who the 'he' was in the statement. "Yeah, I reckon 'he' was... ya tell him not t'worry... he'll get age lines..."

"I'll do that," Larabee grinned, pulling the door closed behind him. He pressed his weight against the other side, wondering what was locked inside the younger man's chest. Sighing heavily, he followed the hall to the dining room, to join his friends.

For a day and a half, there was no change. Vin was quiet, sullen and very withdrawn. Sleeping too much and barely eating. His features were too sharp, black circles rimmed his eyes from the sleep he fought. He took short walks, alone, every afternoon on the beach. Chris gave him his space, but remained close enough, in case he faltered. They tried to engage him in conversation, but failed. J.D. managed to chatter at him long enough that Vin agreed to take a ride in the small wagon into town. But yet he remained locked in pain and none of them held the key.

The house was quiet, the twilight was approaching and Vin was still down the beach. Ezra took the new box of candy with him. He made his way along the uneven sand, flinching as his still healing back protested. His eyes were trained on the small figure sitting on a large piece of driftwood. He opened the box and put it at face level, letting the heady aroma of chocolate filled the air.

Vin glanced at the tiny pieces of chocolate, shaped like seashells. The box was fancy and each piece had it's own cut out spot to sit in. He shook his head, his stomach was as jumpy as the waves before him. He'd tried, tried hard, to make things right. Josiah's words from the bible almost got by; Nathan's silent strength, J.D's chattering and now Ezra's gift were pressing hard. Buck's gentle teasing was almost too hard to bear and Chris, he pushed that thought away, it was like salt on an open wound.

"No thanks, Ezra."

"Your shoulders are not that broad." The gambler remained standing, taking a stab at whatever unseen demon was wounding their Texan.

"...don't know what ya mean..." Vin tried to be convincing.

"Don't you?" Standish eyed the handsome face, so locked in pain, ."Haven't you learned your lesson yet?"

Vin bristled and rose, his anger giving him newfound strength. He moved his body defensively, thrusting his chest out in anger.

"Ya change jobs again?" he snarled, poking a finger into the pristine cream shirt. "takin' up pryin' into folks' heads? Or is this another one of yer fuckin' games? This seat isn't open..." He moved in front of his driftwood, not missing the brief flicker of hurt in the jade eyes. The chestnut head nodded and the conman recovered.

"You're right, I apologize for the invasion of privacy," He tipped his hat, placed the box on the wood and left. He'd hit a raw nerve, maybe, just maybe, enough to cause the box to break open. He found J.D. and Buck playing cards in the library. Nathan and Chris weren't back from town yet. He poured a glass of brandy and downed it quickly. An action not missed by his friends.

"Hey, there's plenty, Erza..." J.D. eyed Buck, whose head was already turned.

"You okay?"

"Never better," his voice was clipped. He poured another glass and headed for the door, seeking the garden.

"What the hell is eating him?" Dunne asked.

"He had sand on his pants." Buck frowned, sipping his coffee. "...and some Tanner teeth marks on his butt."

It was almost dark when the wagon pulled up. Nathan and Miguel took the supplies inside. Ezra waited until the leader gingerly lowered himself, flinching and rubbing the outside of his sling.

"A word?" he asked.

"Something wrong?" Chris inquired, eyeing the unusal brightness in the gambler's gaze.

"I'm not sure," he waited until Larabee was closer and they headed inside. "I had a rather hostile encounter with our suffering sharpshooter."

"Hostile?" Chris froze by the large, flowering tree out front.

"I'll explain," Erza led the way inside.

He left his friends gathered in the library, and went to Vin's room. He paused by the bed, eyeing the troubled features, uneasy in rest. A cool breeze filled the room and he pulled the light blanket up. His hand took the shell from the slack fingers and rested it on the table.

He crept through the room, seeing his enemy lying asleep. He smiled, sometimes the Daiboo were so foolish! He straddled the broad chest, drinking in the shocked eyes looking at him. The blade went down easy, slicing a large red grin from ear to ear. The eyes opened briefly, questioning him then a gurgle as the blood ran out.

"No!"

"Whoa!" Chris shoved the escaping body back down. Vin was blinking hard, shaking all over and fighting something or someone unseen. "Vin! Calm down... you're... Vin?" Just as fast he was slack again, collapsing against his right hip. He eased the body down, wiped the sweat-coated face and tugged the sheet back up. He waited for several moments, until he was sure the breathing was soft and easy. The tension left the troubled face, "Why won't you let me in?" he whispered painfully, before turning away and onto the beach. He walked in the darkness, heading for the golden beacon in the lighthouse.

"I can't..." Vin whispered, cracking one eye and watching the solo figure disappear under the full moon. Seeing Buck's dead eyes gave him the shivers and he curled his body against the world and tried not to sleep.

It was early and the others were stirring nearby. Buck was sitting at the table, a mirror on the wall giving him a good view. Half his face was lathered, the other half clean shaven. The blade was curving under his strong chin. Chris was washed and dressed, already on the small patio outside the room. A large mug of coffee rested in the tense fingers. The profile was troubled and circles under the pale eyes bespoke the lack of sleep. He turned his face back to the glass and saw a pair of wide blue eyes looking into the mirror. Vin hadn't seen him yet, the raw agony on the face was locked onto the razor at his throat. As if it were red hot, he nearly dropped it. It was then his eyes met the troubled ones in the glass. He knows... he knows... he knows... the words drummed loudly in his head. He dropped the blade and toweled off, while turning slowly. His look of unadulterated astonishment, caught the leader's eyes.

Chris frowned when he saw Buck go pale and his features turned to icy shock. He took his coffee and went inside, catching Vin in his side eye. The tracker was huddled, trying to escape; he looked like a deer in the crosshairs.

"That's it... isn't it?" Wilmington finally found his voice, shaky but airborne. "That's what's been eatin' away at you? That's why you got sick?"

Chris's eyes narrowed, going from Buck to Vin. The younger man looked like he wanted the world to open up and swallow him whole. He moved closer, flanking the rogue. Then he saw what Buck had, just as the wide, painful blues hit his sling. "How?"

"...heard ya... the... other day..." the injured tracker's voice was hoarse and raw, "...outside that room... with the games... Nate was barkin' at ya... ya said... I done that... couldda kilt both... of..."

"Goddammit!" the blond snarled, kicking the bedpost. "Me and my big mouth... shit..."

Vin saw the clenched fists and eyes hot and wild. Buck's were full of sorrow and empathy. His gaze lingered on Bucks throat, still seeing it splayed open if full color. He licked his dry lips and eyed both of them.

"Why didn't ya tell me?"

Chris grimaced at the tiny voice, not sure of what to reply.

"Hell, Vin, you were already busted up, inside and out... I couldn't hurt you anymore." Buck said quietly, eyes full or remorse.

"I couldda kilt both of ya..." He pushed the images away.

"But you didn't," Chris moved closer, "It's done, Vin, leave it buried. It's not worth you getting sick over. I know how you feel but..."

"No, ya don't!!" Tanner accused hotly, "Ya ain't wearin' m'eyes, Larabee!"

"The hell I don't!" Larabee lashed back, moving next to Buck, who slumped, shook his head and sighed. He helped the injured man rise and move to Vin's bed, where he sat down easy. Chris reamined by Wilmington's side. "I lived a lot of dark days, Vin, a lifetime of them, after Sara and Adam died. I got a shitload of 'curl up and die' memories... stuff so bad it sickens me. But one thing, one fuckin' lost night, I can't remember, only the horror of the next day."

"Chris, don't," Buck pleaded, wincing as Larabee's fingers dug into his bare shoulder.

"You want to know about nightmares? How 'bout waking up covered in blood and it's not yours? How 'bout two hours of searchin' in the fuckin' wilderness and findin' your best friend's body. How 'bout your fingers shakin' so bad, the can't find a pulse. You hear an unholy scream and realize that it's not some wild animal, it's you."

"Chris, Jesus, don't go back..." The fingers dug deeper, silencing Buck's heart.

"I still live with memory and it keeps me honest. I still hear that scream... and thank God every day this man still calls me friend."

"Chris..." Buck's voice was soft now and his face flushed.

Vin felt every word rip into him. His eyes never left Chris's face and he mentally painted an image. He swallowed hard and shifted his eyes to Buck, whose handsome face was lost and saddened.

"...that ain't the end of it..." He continued, his voice tight and hoarse, "You see Vin, I was the one outside town. Buck..." His voice cracked and his tightened his now nearly crippling grip. "didn't head to town... he... came... to get me... instead of finding... a doctor..." He took a deep breath, recalling the endless days and nights by the larger man's bed. "He damn near died... was five days before he turned the corner."

Several tense moments passed, each man lost in a memory. Buck, too, rememeber the haunted face that met his when he finally did come out of the coma. Too weak too speak, he held his hand out, trying to assure his friend he held no ill will. But the man in black denied him, his eyes full of pitchforks and fire. Once he was assured that he wouldn't die, Chris Larabee paid the doctor and left all the money he had for Buck, and rode away. The next time they met, he was in his longjohns, under a hotel window in a dusty town Fate tinted with destiny.

"I couldn't head to town," Buck said sheepishly, "I didn't have my lucky shirt on...a lady's first impression is important."

"You're full of shit, Buck," Chris cuffed the back of his head lightly, his voice tight.

"Some things never change," Vin added, smiling at the large-hearted man. "I'm sorry, fer puttin' the worry on ya..."

"Better?" Chris asked, eyeing the younger man's face sharply.

"It's gettin' there..." he replied, "Ya fixin' on finishin', Bucklin? I ain't sittin' across from that half-assed shave at breakfast."

"This half-assed face is prettier than yours, shave or not," Wilmington teased, tapping the blanketed leg. "Shake a leg, Son, let's get to that breakfast table."

Slowly, over the next few days, the bodies healed. They'd be heading home soon and leaving this magical, golden play palace. Vin roamed the halls, entering the library. Something had been on his mind and he eyed the many volumes of books.

"Can I help you, Son?"

"Hey, Padre," Vin nodded at the elderly priest. "Maybe...ya know which books is put where?"

"I do, I put every one of them in here," Father Javier replied, "Why? What is it you seek?"

"A piece of someone's soul," he replied, waiting for the other man to join him. "It's like this..."

A week later:

"Is he comin'?" Vin fretted, tugging at his shirt. It was new and deep blue, complementing his new tan.

"Would you relax? Hell, you're jumpin' around like a virgin on her weddin' night," Chris grimaced.

"Charming," Ezra rolled his eyes.

"Sit down, Vin, you're wearin' me out!" Buck laughed, eyeing her nervous friend.

"Where is everybody?"

"In here, Nathan," J.D. called out from the library.

"How was town?" Chris asked, eyeing Vin's Adam's apple bobbing fast and furious. He gave the blue shirt a solid tug and rose, vacating the empty spot on the long settee. "Have a seat."

"Town was crowded," The healer decided, tossing his coat onto the table. "We got a nice pig for dinner tonight, gonna cook 'im in a pit. Got some yams and... Vin, yuh okay?" He eyed the nervous leg jumping and the slim fingers tapping each knee.

"Vin's got something to say," Buck edged, grinning widely. "Go on Slick," he sent his reassurance.

"Uh... Nathan," the stammering Texan began, turning his body a little. "I... we... Buck, Ez and me... thought... decided..."

"Aw, hell, we'll be here at sundown when that pork is history," Buck lamented.

"Shut up, Buck!" Tanner scowled, "I'm havin' a hard enough time..."

"Go on, Vin," Ezra encouraged, pressing the rectangular leather container into his hands. "You're doing fine."

He took a deep breath and pressed the two foot long,soft brown leather sachel into the confused former slave's lap. "It's from Buck, Ez and me... fer takin' such good care of us... usin' them fine hands so well..."

"Not shootin' Ezra for bitchin' so much." J.D. winked at the handsome gambler.

"Or Buck fer them night rackets that wake the dead..." Vin added.

"I don't snore!" the rogue defended weakly.

"Doctor Smith did his share... he's a good man... he saved Buck's leg..."

"He's a skilled surgeon," Standish agreed.

"...and a helluva guy," Buck nodded.

"...but he ain't our Nathan... there's only one..." Vin rasped shyly, offering his hand, "Thank you, Nathan Jackson, yer words... yer heart.... ya got a powerful healin' inside ya... s'the reason I'm breathin'..."

Nathan was stunned, sitting speechless, eyeing each grinning face around him. He felt it then, the healing force, the circle of light, the full impact of the bond these men had. With trembling hands, he opened the leather sack and pulled out a two foot by ten inch wooden board. Large ovals were cut into the short ends. A half dozen circles were carved along either side. It was polished redwood, shining like red fire. For a moment, as his eyes raked across the board, his fingers used grace and reverence to touch it... ensuring it was real.

"It's a Mancala board..." J.D. blurted out, breaking the silence. "It's the oldest game in the world. It's origins are in Africa. It's a game of skill and speed played by kinds and commoners alike. From boards carved in ivory and gold, with rubies, emeralds and diamonds as pieces to holes dug in the dirt with pebbles. You move your pieces around the board, trying to capture as many of your opponents and keep them on your side. " he paused, taking a breath."I've been reading about it..." His voice died off.

"It was a team effort," Buck supplied, wondering about the stone-faced healer. He eyed Standish, who nodded, remaining at Vin's side. "Uh...it was Vin's idea, he did most of the work, carved the wood and sanded it some..."

"Buck sanded it as well, and applied the varnish as well as the enscription." The gambler added.

"Ezra went to every store in town to find the right leather case, had the tanner make it up special, even put your name in gold letters. He got all them pretty, polished, colored stones for pieces." Buck completed, shrugging at the unresponsive ex-union medic. Chris frowned, pushing his body off the wall he was leaning on. He didn't know who looked worse, Nathan or the long-faced Texan slumped next to him.

"Aw, hell, Nathan," Vin croaked, eyeing the ashen face, "I'm sorry, it was all my doin', don't blame the others. I wanted t'give... we wanted t'give ya somethin' special... I figgered if we made it... from our hands... it'd mean more." He paused, licking his dry lips and wincing. Nathan looked dead, as if he wasn't even in the room. "I got the idea from somethin' ya told me a long while back, when I was fevered. Ya mentioned yer grandpa and... the game... and... ya don't gotta keep it 'er nothin'. I'm sorry, Nathan, I thought..."

"Yuh hush yer mouth Vin Tanner!"

The words came out with such force, it stunned the room. They all cast their eyes on the healer, whose body was heaving in an effort to remain calm. He pressed the beautiful gift to his chest wit hand and gripped the back of Vin Tanner's neck with the other. "Don't yuh say another word." He sighed and bit his lip, such a pain in his chest it hurt to talk. He took several breaths, trying to control the tide rising in his eyes. His voice was wavering, but he spoke, letting his soulful eyes, now flushed with warmth, eye his 'brothers'. "My earliest memory... I mean way back... just fast flashes of faces... smells...sounds... is... is... sittin'... on... his..." he paused, took a steadying breath and bit his lip again. "lap... one hand..." he moved the fingers on his left hand, over the fine wood, "held me against his chest. A big chest, massive, strong, proud..." His voice grew to powerful level, his eyes bright with pride, "that hand... on m'chest... the other tossin' them colored stones in circles dug into wood... with m'uncles..." He saw the window again and the faces returned, dark and handsome, proud despite the chains, supporing each other through prayer and sacrifice. He closed his eyes and inhaled, smelling the strong musk of the great warrior, a King in his homeland. His never lost that noblity and passed that will onto each of his son's and them to their sons. He squeezed the gifted speaker's neck even harder, not hiding the cracks in his voice. "I haven't heard his voice... felt him... since I was a... ch...chi..ld..." He turned to meet the emotive blue eyes of Vin Tanner. "I saw his face... yuh got no idea..." He wasn't able to continue, tears rolled down his face and his wet eyes went to Standish, who was next to Vin. He let go of the Texan's neck, long enough to extend his hand. "Erza, this is beautiful... I want yuh... to know..."

"Know?" Standish offered quietly, cocking his head, "My good friend, I can feel your gratitude, and it was an honor... to pay homage to your grandfather." He shook the offered hand and nodded tot he words. "Did you see what Buck wrote? That was his idea..."

Nathan lifted the side of the shining wooden treasure and tried to read it, but his voice was broken and he couldn't produce a word. He saw black pants move next to him and a strong hand grip his shaking limbs, giving him support.

"Nyack..." Chris Larabee read the lettering, painstakingly seared into the wood by Buck Wilmington. "which means... 'strong-hearted, one who will never give up'. It's fine name, Nathan, it suits you too."

"He... was... a... king..." Jackson stuttered, not used to such uncontrollable emotion. "...in his homeland... a leader... a great leader... he never lost that pride... passed it on..." He eyed the script, letting his fingers trace every perfect letter. He moved to Buck then, who was unable to rise, due to his leg. "I've seen a lot of things in my life... in big mansions... gold jewelry, fancy paintin's, silver teapots and painted china..." He let his wet eyes linger on the emotional face of the other man. Brown eyes met blue, his dark hand reached down and gripped the side of the pale face. "This... Buck Wilmington... is the finest thing I've ever laid eyes on... yuh honored him... puttin' his name... soul... into this... yuh honored me... Buck... I..." He broke then, as the drums he uncles used in family festivities echoed in his head. He smelled his grandmother's bread cooking and the tobacco in Nyack's pipe. It was too much and he wept, unaware the circle was forming again, surrounding the hurt. He felt them patting his back and gripping his shoulder. Someone pressed a glass of whiskey in his hand and he spilled half on the way to his lips. This was home... not a place... but the circle. Somewhere where his brother's arms healed his soul. He heard the deep laughter of his grandfather in his ears and smiled, rejoicing.

Later, when the house was dark and quiet and the rest were sleeping, he wandered. He went into the end room, over to the narrow bed. He shook his head and smiled at the limbs stewn far and wide. One leg was off the bed and one arm over his face. The blankets were gone, tangled down by his knees. He felt the cold air blowing in the window and shook his head, placing the leg and arm back in place. "Damn fool's gonna catch cold... that'd be my luck. Nothin' worse than a Tanner totin' a cold." He clucked his tongue, pulling the blanket up. The eyes blinked and squinted.

"Nathan? Ya okay?" Vin croaked, still mostly asleep.

"I'm more than okay, Raekwon," he pressed his hand onto the naked shoulder.

"Ray... who?" Vin coughed, blinked and settled back into his pillows.

"In the place of my grandfather's birth," he said with affection, "it means 'one who is gifted with words."

"How 'bout that?" Vin blushed in the dark, "Wonder what Vin means?" He yawned, letting his heavy eyes close.

"Gentle spirit, brave heart ..." he paused, eyeing the sleeping man, "soaring soul. Rest easy, Blue Eagle." He made his way to his own bed, eyeing the handmade dreamcatcher. He gazed at the heavens then, the brilliant stars blinding him. He felt his grandfather's breath on his face and smiled. "Yuh watch over all o'em for me... but 'specially that cranky Texan, okay?"

Part Seventeen

Chris made his way down to the shoreline, watching the wind lift the long brown curls. He grinned and took a seat next to the lone figure. Two weeks made quite a difference. Vin's blinding headaches were dying down and his ribs were healing. More important, there was an ease in his stance, his eyes were light and his soul seemed reborn.

"You need a haircut," he grunted, "You're gettin' embarrassing to be seen with."

"Yer just jealous..." Vin touted, "'cause them yella sprouts ya got is gettin' thinner. Reckon if I'm Blue Eagle, ye'd be Bald Eagle." He paused, then got his own joke, "Hey, bald eagle... hey that's funny."

The blond thought for a moment, realizing now would be the perfect time to ask. He eyed the classic features and got a mental image of a fireball ten year old with a short temper and a hot blue eyes. He saw the longing and maybe a bit of sadness in the blue eyes, as they cast of the sea and back in time.

"Vin? Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"What does 'babi' mean?" He squinted a bit as the last of the sun's rays hit the tracker's face, bathing him in a rich gold light. "You... uh... called me that a few times... your voice... changed. I was just wondering..." He saw the eyes crinkle first, as the grin slowly formed. A soft chuckle slipped through the parted lips.

Vin smiled from the inside out. That word was special to him. It amazed him that despite the head injury and fever, his mind made that connection. How to explain to Chris Larabee that he had become 'babi' in every sense of the word? A bond he thought lost the night his brother rode out, leaving his most sacred possession. The spark that started the day he met those cool green eyes over a dusty street. The fire inside that grew every day, a power feeling that meant as much to him as breathing.

Chris misinterpreted the silence from the other man and turned slightly. "It's okay, Vin. I didn't mean to pry."

"...onry, broodin', tight-assed cuss who shoots green fire..." He raised a single eyebrow as the other's eyes narrowed.

"Stick out that tongue, so I can see the fork in the middle of it..."

Vin laughed and tossed some pebbles in the sea, before taking a seat on the long piece of driftwood. Chris remained a few feet away, turned partly towards the sea.

"It ain't an easy word t'understand. It's and older brother... but not jes' any brother. It's the feelin's ya get inside fer someone who ya look up to. Someone who learned ya all the right things, by example, with pride and honor. Taught ya right from wrong, picked ya up when ya fell down, made ya try again, understood yer grief and accepted yer tears...kicked yer ass when ya needed it..." He shook shaggy head. "shit... this ain't comin' out right. Iffen I called ya that... I want ya t'know I was talkin' t'Chris, not Teheno. He was 'babi' once, yer 'babi' now... fer as long as yer ridin' with me." He drew circles in the sand and saw a shadow fall over him. A single palm was open to him. He drew his face up slowly and saw a tidepool of deep green swirling in those mezmerizing eyes. He took the hand and was hauled up. Their forearms clasped for a moment, then they turned to the sea. They stood for awhile, each letting the feeling sink in and take hold. Finally, the air grew cooler and the older man turned.

"You gonna get cleaned up? I thought we'd go into town tonight."

"Yeah, okay," Vin nodded, "I been thinkin' some..."

"Oh God," the blond sighed, shaking his head. "There goes the trip to town."

"Shut the hell up, Larabee!"

Chris waited and waited, but nothing else came. He looked over and the blue eye were trained on the sea. "Vin?" He prompted.

"Huh? What?"

"What?"

"Well if ya don't know what ya was thinkin', how'm I supposed t'know?"

"Huh?" Chris shook his head in confusion. "Cut that out. You were thinking, remember?"

"Oh," Vin sighed, "Ya know, Chris, fer years I used to wonder 'bout what Teheno thought, when he rode back. Seein' all that butchery..." he paused, opening both palms. "He put his boy right here."

"Don't Vin..."

"No, it's okay," Tanner turned, wearing an easy smile. "There's a hole inside, way down deep... been totin' it since that night. All that wonderin' made it grow." He turned his face again, simple in it's sincerity. "It's gone... the hole's gone..." He eyed the darkening sky, "I used t'always here his voice, no matter how far away he was. I always had a sense o'him... until that night. Ya got no idea how much it hurt t'lose that."

"Vin..."

"Let me finish," He cut off the clipped, worried voice. "I don't know how and I ain't gonna bust into sweat figgerin' it out..." he stood, gripped both of Larabee's dark shirted shoulders and leveled a shot of unparalled faith through the eyes. "Ya gave him back t'me, Chris Larabee. Ya plugged up them holes... fer me... ya done that fer me..." He nodded once and turned away, feeling his throat tighten.

The leader smiled, his pale eyes shining. He gripped the back of the sharpshooter's neck and gave a single tug. "I never met the man," he noted of Teheno, "but I see him every day, wearing blue eyes." He gave a half grin and nod, when the shaggy head turned sharply, eyes emotive. "He'd be proud as hell of you, Tanner, I know I am."

"Thanks," the blue eyes grew serious as their forearms locked, "...babi..."

"You about done bearin' that raggedy-assed soul and all that shit?" Chris charged, getting the smile he set out for.

"Yer a real sentimental fool, Larabee."

"Go scare up some Tanner rags, we're going to town."

"Huntin' trip?" He asked, seeing the devilish light in the green eyes.

"Uh-huh... Buck's got something lined up. I don't know all the details but it involves Ezra and women."

"Aw, hell, more yer old bones... time's wastin'."

Two hours later, in the lobby of the Cosmopolitan Hotel

"How much longer? This place is about as excitin' as watchin' ye mix up them lead balls ya pass off fer dumplin's."

"You got the attention span of a flea," Larabee sassed back, shoving the tracker back into his seat. "Sit down, they'll see us."

"Well as least I'm bein' spicshus..." Vin hissed.

"What?" Chris's face screwed up "...the hell is spicshus?"

"...blending in..." he patted his neutral cloths. "Ya need t'read more, so's ye'd know about such words."

Chris frowned and then rolled his eyes, "It's inconspicuous, genius."

"...shame we're not at a funeral" he prattled on, oblivious, "Ye'd fit right in..." he eyed the black cloth.

"Get your head down! They'll see you."

"Seems t'me that ain't such a bad idea," Tanner whispered, "seein' as how they got beer and we're eatin' plant dust." He sneezed, shoving the fern leaves from his nose. His headache was building at a record rate and the sneezing only made it worse. He sneezed twice, then rubbed his watery eyes.

"Shhhh!"

"'scuse the hell outta me..." Tanner pouted, then saw a familiar body, a very shapely one. "Hey, hey looks it's that Red Cross lady..." He frowned, "Her name's Abby... I think, it's all kinda fuzzy."

"Would you shut up!" Chris hissed, "Buck's up to something..."

"Hello Darlin'," Buck boomed, embracing the beautiful woman. "My God, you make all the flowers outside look like a pile of weeds." He was still limping and using a cane, but well on the road to recovery.

"I feel nausea rising..." Standish groaned at the form fitting embrace and lingering kiss. He cleared his throat and thwacked the rogue's leg. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Joke?" Buck snapped, "These are the two most talented lips this side of Paris. Ain't that right, Darlin'? Don't go swoonin' now... I only got one good leg."

"Good Lord, the bile riles," The conman groaned. "Was my sole purpose for this trip to watch your clumsy amourous endeavors?"

"Hell, no," Wilmington kissed the pretty nurse again and let his fingers dance up her spine. "Where is she?" he eyed the lobby, pausing a second on a cluster of plants, that seemed to sneeze.

"Cut that out!" Larabee hissed, covering Vin's nose and mouth and shoving him lower. "He heard you!... Ow" he pulled his hand back "Did you bite me?"

"Ya do that again and I'll do worse than bite yer hand." Tanner huffed. "He can't see nothin' but her bumps..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, she was delayed. Her train arrives in a half hour. I'm sure Ezra won't mind waiting" She purred, unbuttoning Buck's top buttons and snaking her hand inside, teasing his tender points. "It's awfully hot in here, Buck? How about a carriage ride? The sound of the restless surf is intoxicating"

"You read my mind," the mustached man groaned, his desire crowding him. "You hang tight, Pard, there's a vision of beauty headin' your way. A friend of Abby's. What's her name again?"

"Hoffendacken... Miss..."

"What!" Ezra sputtered, rising, red-faced and shoving the injured man hard onto a chair. "Have you lost what little gray matter resides in that thick skull of yours? Your days, Mister Wilmington, are numbered!" He gritted, grabbed his hat and stalked off.

"What the hell was that about?" Vin hissed, seeing Chris grinning. "What?"

"Hoffendacken... that's that old crone who manhandled Erza naked... hah... Buck got 'im again."

"Damn..." Vin sneezed again and rubbed his pounding temples. "Can we leave now, I'm tired o'hangin' snots on these fancy plants."

"Yeah, just wait a minute until Buck goes. There's a nice cafe here, we can get a drink." He caught a side glance at the tracker's pinched face and the slim fingers pressing on each temple. Suddenly, Nathan's face loomed in his mind and the words 'frequent blackouts' appeared. "You okay,Vin?"

"...nothin' that a drink won't fix..."

They shared a small pitcher of Sangria and watched the crowded lobby thin out. Chris had the last glass halfway to his lips, when his eyes widened. He felt his pants get tighter and a flush rise.

"What?" Vin saw the change and turned.

"I just died and went to heaven," the leader stood, smiled at the six-foot blonde goddess with a lush body who appeared lost.

"Don't crowd me," Vin warned, shoving the man in black. "Hell, them clothes is barely on 'er... she's sproutin' out the top of that blouse."

"I got eyes, Vin." The husky voice held no secrets.

"Yeah, I can see that, they're poppin' right outta yer head!" he clamored, shoving the older man again.

"Evenin' Miss?" Chris nodded, taking off his hat and unleashing his killer smile. "I'm Chris Larabee, maybe I can be of service to you." He grimaced as Vin cleared his throat loudly and wiggled in front of him. The tracker's face was at breast level and his blue eyes were watering.

"You better run along, Son and get something for that rash," the leader shoved the lean Texan away. "You know how them pants aggravate your uh... delicate areas..."

"What?" Vin squeaked, saw the lusty blonde's large brown eyes zone in on his crotch. He turned beet red and clenched both fists. "I ain't got no rash but yer gonna be singin' high notes in church if ya keep it up." He lost his anger and smiled like choirboy, "I'm Vin Tanner, Ma'am, at yer service."

"Well, I certainly didn't expect such a warm welcome," she oozed, cupping the blue-eyed one's chin' "You're so cute..."

"..and young..." he added, elbowing Larabee. "...lots o'stamina..."

"Shut up, Vin," Chris hissed, "Ma'am, are you meeting anyone?"

"Oh, where are my manners," She bent down to retrieve her satchel and gave them an eyeful.

"Oh God," Vin whispered, flexing his inner thighs, "the boys' is all fired up..."

"I'm Inge Hoffendacken, my Aunt Cornelia works with Abby Bauer. I'm from the home office in San Francisco. We got separated and I missed my train. I was too meet an Ezra Standish for a night of... well... entertainment."

"Well now that is a shame," Chris offered in a voice dripping with sincerity. "You see old Ezra took sick. He had to leave... some folks don't take to spicy food, if you get my meaning,."

"Oh," she nodded sympathetically of the intestinal distress.

"But I'm a very good friend of his, we work together. Show you a good time?" Chris said in a low, sultry voice, his eyes not masking his intent.

"You have captivating eyes, Mister Larabee," she leaned in for a closer inspection, feeling the virile body.

"My father is Mister Larabee, I'm Chris and..." Suddenly the ripe body was not longer in front of him. He was gazing lustfully at air. He looked down and saw her bending over a body. "Vin?"

"He's not breathing..." She rolled him over and felt bulk under his shirt. "His chest is bandaged..."

"He's got busted ribs and a head injury..." Chris squinted at the slack face, now nestled comfortably between Inge's amble breasts. He put his hand over Vin's nose and mouth and felt little if any air. "...but he was fine..." His voice trailed off as he recalled Vin's dizzy spell a few moment prior.

"He fell and could have easily damaged his lungs... especially with broken ribs. It's a delicate area. Plus, you were shoving him rather hard."

Chris's face colored and he rose, scanning the lobby. "I'll get some help."

Timing is everything and after two well-honed minutes, the sly one's blue eyes opened a crack. He felt the smooth mounds of flesh under his neck and smiled, nearly whooping. "Wh...at... hap..pened..." he whispered painfully. "I'm okay... Miss..."

"No, you passed out, it could be quite serious," She scolded as he stood up. "I'm a nurse, I'm well trained in these matters. You should lie down and..."

"Whose movin' the room?" Vin swayed, letting the goddess catch him.

"Your friend will be back soon," she pulled him close, locking her long arm around his waist and supporting him.

"I'm okay, Miss..." he stammered, his face pressed to her chest "..don't... wanna... cause a f..f...fuss. I'll... jes' get... some... air... so ... hot... m'legs... are quakin'..." he shook on cue "If ye'd be s'kind t'point the way t'the street... I... I..."

"Vin?" She caught his belt loop and tugged hard as he sagged again. "I have a room just upstairs. We can take the lift. You should lie down."

"I don't wanna... be... a ..both..er... Miss..."

"Nonsense," She eyed him flinching. "Is your back bothering you?"

"...n...n...no... Miss... not... r.eally... s'nothin' fer ya t'fret... over..." He paused, eyeing the blond far across the lobby. Worse yet, he had Ezra with him!

"I have medicinal herbs in my bag, I'll give you a hot bath and rubdown... there'll be no talk of being a bother. Lean on me," She hugged him closer, as the door to the elevator opened. She snapped her hand and the small clerk hustled in ahead, carrying her bags.

"What the hell?" Chris eyed the spot where he left his friend on death's door.

"There he is... apparenlty being kidnapped by an Amazon!"

"That was your escort, Ezra..." Chris glared, just as the 'victim''s head popped up and grinning behind his rescuer's back.

"What?" the conman stuttered, "But that's impossible, I've seen that Hoffendacken creature..."

"Yeah, well now you've seen her niece," he huffed, "Let me tell you, she's something you'd never forget." He glared openly at the smirking Texan. He was nestled snugly against the statuesque blonde. Both eyebrows went up and one blue eye boldy winked at him, just as the doors shut. "I'm gonna fuckin' skin that weasel alive!" He clapped his hat on his leg. "Dammit!" He vented, having been played the fool.

"Speaking of removing skins from varmits, " Standish gritted, his anger rising. "Where is Buck Wilmington?"

"Halfway to heaven by now," Chris noted, "You know Buck won't waste any time. Come on, Erza, I wanna get drunk 'til I hurt."

"A capital idea," The southerner agreed, "lead on."

Six Weeks Later

"He still wearin' that shit eatin' grin?" Buck asked, standing next to Chris Larabee outside Gloria Potter's store.

"Yup."

"Ain't natural for somebody to be that happy just sittin'," the rogue eyed the sated tracker, who was perched on a barrel outside the silversmith shop down the street. He was leaning against the wall of the building, dozing in the morning sun like a contented cat.

"Yup."

"What the hell is that?" the dark blue eyes narrowed, scanning the ground next to the sharpshooter. "Another present? He's been home for over a month... he's don't get headaches anymore. I know that basket..." he zoned in, recognizing the green cloth lining the inside. "No wonder he's grinnin' like that, his belly's full of oatmeal cookies and spice cake. That's Miss Laurel's work..." he snarled of the cook from the hotel. "I was supposed to take her on a walk last night... she said she was busy..."

"Yup."

'"That dog! How long's he gonna milk this?" The rogue scowled, "You should have heard him last night as supper. Blushin' and 'No Ma'amin' the hell all over the place. I left for five minutes to go to the privvy and when I got back I couldn't see him for all the skirts around the damn table. Fussin' over him like he was some damn king..."

"Yup."

"As stimulating as your conversation is, Pard, I'm headin' for the saloon, you comin'?"

"Nope."

"No?" He squinted, watching the barest hint of a grin on the only visible part of Chris Larabee's face. The rest was hidden under the broad black hat. He followed the turn of the head down the street, to where the stage was pulling out.

"Got business," He stood

"With the post office?" Buck clamored, "You spend more time in there lately than the saloon. You're not gettin' any ideas of gettin' a real job?"

"You worry me, Buck," Chris imparted and slowly walked toward the post office. Since the wire came three weeks ago, he'd been checking every delivery. The note from the Indian Affairs Bureau chief in Washington, D.C. stated that his request had been received and to expect a reply Maybe today would be the day. He hadn't told the others, if it was bad news, he'd tell Vin alone. His long strides took him easily into the post office.

"Mornin' Mr. Larabee."

"Teddy," Chris nodded at the bespeckled, red-headed youth. He waited patiently, watching the nervous boy drop half the letters.

"Sorry," he stammered, flipping through the piles in front of him.

"S'okay, Teddy," He tipped his hat. He was just about to cross the street, when he was interrupted.

"Mr. Larabee!"

He ducked back into the doorway, spotting a rectangular box in the youth's hands. It was a good size and wrapped in brown paper.

"This one has your name on it... all the way from Denver..."

"Thanks," he flipped the clerk a piece of silver and took the package, frowning at the scrolling writing. Excellent handwriting, a woman's hand. He went up to his room and carefully took the paper off, folding it neatly. There were two letters, a picture and a carved wooden box. It was dark mahagony, carved with a fine hand. When he saw the image inlaid in the center, he knew his answer. He sighed, smiled and felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

"Blue Eagle," he spoke with reverence, gently touching the mother of pearl, abalone and turquiose figure of an eagle. The eyes were brilliant blue. He left the box on the bed and examined the paperwork. A very thick letter was addressed to Vin. The second bore his name and he slit the top.

"Hello Chris Larabee, my name is Jolie Carboneau. I received a letter from President Grant, inquiring about my husband, Teheno. He spoke of you with brave words, of courage and valor and love for your friend, my husband's beloved brother. The news that the letter brought, that his 'Tanner' was alive and well, brought old tears to his eyes. His heart wept in gladness and I wept with him, holding him close. He would have come himself to delivery this special gift for his Tanner, but he's recovering from a dangerous fever and too weak to travel. So first, from my husband and our family and myself, thank you Chris Larabee for loving your Tanner so much, that you gave him back to his brother. Second, the other letter is for Tanner, it is my husbands words that I have written down. It tells of our lives together here in the Rocky Mountains, where he hunts with my father. We have a trading post and my husband's fine hand supplies the beautiful furniture and other carved items. We are happy here in this little heaven. The box is Tanner's wings. He will understand. The photograph is new, taken in Denver just for Tanner, just before my husband fell ill. It is of my husband, myself and our four boys. The oldest, who is seven, is at his father's right hand. He is stubborn, has a hot temper and is much too smart for his breeches. He has given my husband silver strands in his hair! I think you will know by the set of his jaw and the color of the sky in his eyes, why we named him "Tanner' and why he is my husband's heart."

"Damn," Chris grinned, eyeing a scowling little handsome face with two angry pale eyes. The arms were crossed over the proud little chest, with thrust out, like the chin, in defiance. "...he's a Tanner alright!"

Then his eyes followed the arm on the boy's shoulder. It's buckskin jacket was form fitting over a tall man's lean chest. His shoulder length hair was dark and they eyes were ageless and intelligent. He'd have known him anywhere, and in a strange way, felt connected. The author of the fine letter, was a beautiful young woman with dark curls and large pale eyes. He carefully rewrapped the box and made his way to the street. The barrel was empty and the basket was gone. He passed the saloon and looked in the window. It was nearly empty; Ezra, Buck and Josiah were playing cards. Nathan was writing a letter and J.D. was pestering Buck. Vin was sitting alone, chair tilted back, floppy hat over his eyes. As he entered the room, he noted the precarious position of the two legs of the chair, which was leaning against the support beam.

"You're gonna break your back, Vin."

"...never happen..."

"Whatcha got, Chris?" J.D. eyed the brown wrapped bundle tucked under the arm of the leader.

"Package for Vin."

"Me?"

Chris flinched as the chair slammed down and the body flew up in one motion. Before he could explain, Vin took the box and read the front with great difficulty.

"I know that ain't my name... damn there's a lotta loops and swirls... it's a girl's writin'... C... L... this yers?"

"Well, it came to me, but it's for you..." He put his hands over the wrapper. "I think you better sit down, Cowboy." He gently shoved the buckskinned shoulder downwards and into the chair.

"What's goin' on?" Vin narrowed his eyes, first to the box, the to his best friend. "Ya look like ya ate a porcupine..."

"Hah," Ezra chuckled, "you do have a way with words. An old friend, perhaps?"

"...ain't go no old friends," the puzzled Texan replied, taking Buck's beer and claiming it with a good swallow. "...leastwise not livin'..."

"Help yourself, Slick, it ain't like I was fixin' on drinkin' that," the womanizer teased.

"Before you open it, Vin , I want to explain..." Chris tried, but the fingers pulled the wrapping off.

The wood burned his fingers as if forged in the bowels of hell. He shot back off the chair, putting both hands up defensively. Then he wrapped them around the collar of the black duster, backing the owner into the beam hard.

"Where'd ya get that? Where the Hell did ya get that!"

Chris didn't hear the bellow, all he saw was fright in the blue eyes. So he didn't say a word. He waited until the chest stopped heaving and clarity returned to the irate blues. He felt the grip lessen and raised a single eyebrow. The hands fell down, clenched into fists and the eyes pained openly for an answer.

"Somebody want to fill us in?" Buck spoke, eyeing the two men staring hard.

"Maybe we should go?" J.D. asked, standing up.

"It's from... him... ain't... it..." Vin stammered and saw the bronzed face before him dip once. "Oh God... Chris..."

"Whoa!" He moved forward, catching the tracker's elbow when his knees buckled. He got him back to the chair and wiggled his fingers for Ezra's flask. "Here, drink," Two sips later, the head rose, the eyes were wide and wondering, but ready for an answer.

"The day you rolled out in the wagon, headed for San Diego, I had to stay behind. We, well, Nathan and Doctor Smith, thought you were becoming too attached to Teheno. So I had to stay behind, forcing your hand." Chris took his foot to the base of the chair, resting his boot. "longest day and night of my life. I got to thinking about him, Teheno, and thought maybe I could find him for you."

"How did you pull that off?" J.D.'s eyes went wide. "I mean... it's a big country out there... How... where did you look?"

"Across the street..." he replied and saw Josiah's head turn.

"You're kidding?" The preacher guessed, and saw the half smile. He lifted his beer and toasted the effort. "You got balls, Chris Larabee."

"What?" J.D.'s head popped back and forth.

"Across the street..." Buck mused, then his eyes opened. "Well, I'll be damned... You've pulled off some pretty good stunts in your day, Pard, but this takes the cake."

"Chris?" Vin's eyes were glued to the box, but he made no motion to touch it.

"I asked President Grant for a favor."

"Our President Grant?" Vin squeaked.

"No, the one from Canada," the blond teased, "He was glad to help, Vin, he assigned a whole team of guys from the Indian Affairs Office to track Teheno down."

"Well, that explains your frequent trips to the local postal authority," Ezra noted, "I thought perhaps you were courting young Mister Reynolds."

"Teddy?" J.D. wrinkled his nose. "With all that crazy red hair?"

"J.D.!" Nathan laughed, shaking his head.

"His wife wrote me a short note, the rest is for you, Vin. He's happy, married with a pack of kids, living in the Rockies. I gotta tell you Vin, I wasn't sure what to expect. If I'd have gotten bad news..." His thought was cut off by a single hand snapping up and gripping his forearm. Vin's eyes silenced any doubts and he nodded, grateful.

"It's m'wings..." Vin finally touched the inlaid eagle.

"It's a fine piece of craftsmanship," Standish noted. "He put many hours into making that. A true artisian."

"Thanks Ez," Vin managed.

"What do you mean, your wings, Vin?" Buck asked, intrigued.

"Right before the massacre, I's about to get initiated... uh... ya get put in the middle of nowhwere, naked with a knife. Ya gotta make shelter, traps fer animals, use 'em fer clothes and food... I couldn't wait... I'd work up a lather jes' thinkin' on it. Then I got sick..." he sighed, raked a hand through his hair and let his long fingers brush over the inlaid feathers. "I took sick a lot when I was a little feller..."

"Some things never change," Nathan grunted.

"...Teheno told me we'd do it after he come back... I was fired up... nobody wasn't gonna tell me what t'do..."

"Uh-oh..." J.D. shook his head.

"I snuck off... found a spot we'd hunted in 'afore and done it..." He laughed, sipped his beer and his eyes softened. "By the time Teheno found me... I was sick as a dog... fevered, coughin' up stuff... but I done it... and told him so..."

"I reckon he wasn't too happy," Chris grunted.

"No, he wasn't..." the Texan smiled again. "He didn't say nuthin'... but I think I grew two inches right then and there when he plucked me up by the neck and planted me on the horse." He blushed a little when they laughed. "I was pretty sick for a couple days, he never left me. I heard him talkin', he thought I was asleep. He... said... he...was... pr...proud..." Vin stammered, chest tightening. "...that'd I earned m'wings and once he got back, we'd ride... together..." He stopped then, feeling the tears burning in his eyes.

"Why the box?" J.D. asked , eyeing the beautiful piece.

"I was always bringin' stuff home... rocks, bones, arrows, bit's o'glass and metal, feathers, beads, anythin' I could tote. I made a little leather pouch t'keep 'em in, but it got full up. So, Teheno told me when I got m'wings, he'd made me a box fer my treasures. Said they's little pieces o'me and it was important t'keep 'em. He never laughed at 'em..."

The others grew silent when he voice faded away. He eyed the thick letter and slid it inside his coat. Then he turned the picture over and a smile split his face. His shaking fingers traced the features of Teheno's face. He swallowed hard and felt tears in his eyes.

"...Ude bemmeen naÕsunazaihkanna debizhi getaa suande sukam mugua." His voice was hoarse and raw. His jaw trembled and he bit his lip. He raised his emotive eyes, locking in on cool green ones, as he translated. He wanted, needed Chris Larabee to know, the words were meant for both of his 'brothers'.

"He was their strongest, protecting spirit..." The green eyes widened a bit and a single lip turned up. The blond head dipped ever so slightly in acknowledgment.

"Vin," Chris smiled, "Can I read you a part of my note?" He paused, the Texan nodded, his eyes glued to the picture. "They took the picture just for you. Teheno was going to bring the box himself, but he's sick.."

"Sick?"

That got the eyes ripped from the photograph.

"She said he's recovering, just too weak to travel. That letter, the thick one you got, is from him. She wrote this about that stubborn little cuss up front... 'The oldest, who is seven, is at his father's right hand. He is stubborn, has a hot temper and is much too smart for his breeches. He has given my husband silver strands in his hair! I think you will know by the set of his jaw and the color of the sky in his eyes, why we named him "Tanner' and why he is my husband's heart.'"

"Aw, hell," Vin smiled, sitting up straight and beaming. "How 'bout that? He named his boy fer me..." He lifted the picture and stared hard, "...good looker too... must be the name..." A comment which drew a round of snorts and derisive grunts. "Shut up, yer all jealous..."

"I don't know if the world is prepared for two Tanners," Ezra teased, "He is a handsome child, despite his name."

"Looks like you got another treasure for your box," Nathan complimented.

"Pass it over, Vin, we can't see it..." Buck wiggled his fingers, sitting next to Josiah.

"Yer hands clean? Ya ain't been scratchin' or fiddlin' with the boys, have ya?" the bounty hunter inquired.

"My hands!" Wilmington sat forward, "Ten minutes ago, you were elbow deep in cookies and cake."

"I cleaned up at the pump..." Vin defended, guarding his prize until he saw clean hands.

"She's pretty!" J.D. gushed.

"Now that is a woman," Buck admired, "You got a nice lookin' family there Vin."

"Uncle Vin," J.D. teased, elbowing the blushing tracker, who'd suddenly fallen silent.

Chris saw Vin's fingers pressign through his coat, over the letter. Whatever was inside was private and no doubt would cause high emotions.

"He sure has a fine family, Vin," Nathan noted, giving the photo back.

'Reckon, I'll put in inside, t'keep it safe." He flipped the lid up and his smile died. His eyes filled again and he shook his head. "Oh... God... Oh God..."

"Vin?" Chris leaned forward, peeking over the buckskinned shoulder. His smiled at the small leather pouch, with sides bound by uneven leather twists. Vin's slim fingers gracefully lifted the full pouch outside. A slip of paper fell out. The lettering was uneven, a child's scrawl.

"Musta got a cinder in m'eye..." Vin rasped, automatically handing the note over his shoulder.

"Yeah," Chris grinned, resting a hand on Vin's shoulder, before reading. "My uncle... thank you for the gift of your name. My father gave me this pouch... from the hands of his brother. I filled it with my gifts of the mountain. When you come to visit us... you can bring me gifts from your moutain. Tanner."

"Aw, hell," the blue eyes were about to spill. "Imagine that? Right from his heart... fer me... don't even know me..."

"You're wrong, Mister Tanner," Erza spoke wisely. "From his father's lips, I'd say he knows you quite well. Thus, giving such a gift was an easy choice."

Chris gave the gambler a hearty nod and cocked his blond head. Vin's fingers moved to the small pouch and he pulled the strings on top.

"It held up good..." J.D. commented.

"Hell, Vin, talent like that shouldn't be hid," Buck winked, "Town can always use another seamstress."

Vin smiled at both of them, before pulling a golden aspen leaf from the pouch. A blue marble came next, several arrowheads, a nugget flecked with gold, a long blue feather, a broken end of a pipe, a rabbit's foot and a long skin of snake.

"You're gonna have to get a new wagon," Larabee commented wryly, "Yours is already full of uh... treasures..." He teased of the 'junk' the sharpshooter collected in his humble abode.

"Ain't nothin' in there that ain't necessary!" Vin defended, despite the howls of laughter. He examined each object carefully, before replacing them. His fingers stroked the soft leather, as his mind went back in time. To a sunny day when a ten year old boy strung his pouch together and hung it from his belt. Suddenly the saloon seemed to get much smaller and the air was dense. He put the picture in the box and shut the lid. "...nice day fer a ride... think I'll ponder some by the river..." He paused by the door, overcome with emotion and drained. He eyed the faces, resting a lingering gaze on each one. "Thanks fer..." his fingers stroked the box again. "...wouldn't meant s'much if I opened it alone."

"That's what's family's for, right?" Buck said with a soft smile and got one in return.

"Reckon so, Bucklin," Tanner replied, nodding and slipping out into the daylight.

Chris arrived at his cabin, just befoer sunset. He eyed the chimney and saw smoke curling up. He took the saddlebags off and took care of his horse. He entered the house to the smell of rabbit stew and biscuits.

"Smells good..."

"Ought to... used a half bottle o'whiskey in it.." Vin dished out two plates and met his friend at the table. He had his second forkful to his lips, when he noticed the other man staring at him. He lowered the fork and paused, "I didn't read it..."

"It's none of my business, Vin, I didn't mean to stare..."

"I ain't got no secrets from you, Chris," he poured them each a shot of liquor. "I got a favor. You know I'm readin' good now. Books, newpapers anything with printin'. But the letter is girls' writin' all curvy and loopy. I can't make head nor tail o'it. Might as well be Chinese. After supper, I was wonderin', if ya ain't too wore out..." he paused again, "'course if ya are, it can wait..."

"Vin..."

"...tomorrow's another day an all..."

"Vin..."

"...waited this long... what's a few more days..."

"Vin!"

"What?" He turned to the stove . "...nothin' burnin'..."

"I'd be honored,"

"Thanks, Cowboy," Vin smiled.

"I'm sure Mary would print this up for you, in lettering, so you read it easier."

"Yeah?"

"Sure, she'd be glad to..." He nodded and began to eat. "Matter of fact, Gloria got new journals in last week. Maybe you could start one, telling Teheno about your life."

Vin thought for a moment, lingering on the words and toying with his meal. He looked up sharply, "Ya know, I been up in them parts...real pretty ridin'...make a nice trip."

"Pretty country alright"

"Maybe, when I finish my scribin'... I'd like ya t'go with me... t'deliver it. I want him t'meet ya..."

The invite didn't startle Chris, he'd heard it coming. But the choice of the phrasing went right into his gut. Vin didn't say he wanted him to meet Teheno, he said he wanted Teheno to meet him. That was a huge leap in faith and really hit him hard. He didn't realize the smile was coming, until the other man returned it. He nodded and saw the breath leave Tanner's lungs in a rush.

"You bringin' that damn mouth organ?"

"Ain't nothin' wrong with m'playin'...ya got a tin ear..."

"Deaf ear... thanks to that noise you shoot out of that thing. Never heard such a racket."

"Shut up, Larabee and eat."

The sat on the porch after dinner, two lamps on raised barrels giving them light. Chris read slowly, through the pain of Teheno's nightmare discovery, through the years he searched for his lost brother, the joy of falling in love and the wonder of holding their first child. It was letter full of hope and promise and in every word, Teheno's strong feelings were evident.

"I can't believe Spotted Owl survived..." Vin rasped of his grandfather's brother, "...thought they kilt 'im."

Chris smiled and flipped back two pages, rereadig a part of the text that stood out to him, "When my uncle told me what you had done, defending my wife and child with your life... fighting like a warrior for them, while they beat you and tortured you... I want you to know, I felt your spirit. It carried me through my dark days and guides me still. My sons and theirs after them will know of my brave little brother, whose heart is fearless and whose spirit soars like the eagle." He paused, watching Vin swipe his eyes. "That's some brother you got..."

"Yeah," Vin nodded, then studied the handsome face across from him, "I sure can pick 'im." He carefully folded the letter, tucking it into his breastpocket. He gripped Chris's hand long and hard, eyeing the man he admired so much. "Thanks, Chris, wasn't sure about how many leaks m'plumbin' would spill. When ya talk, it's like he's here." He shivered, "scary-like... can't explain it. I'll never ferget this..." he broke there, not trusting his voice. He ducked his head and took a steadying breath. He felt a single hand on his shoulder and a solid squeeze.

"Nice night for a walk, air might help you sleep better," Chris offered, knowing the younger man needed some time alone.

"Yeah," Vin nodded, stepping off the porch. "Think I'll count me some stars...might even pluck one down and bring it back fer ya!"

A month later, high in the Rockies

They paused on the crest of the hill, the expanse below them breathtaking. In the distance, snowcapped mountains surrounded them. A crystal clear stream rushed past, gurgling happily. Wildlife in every size, shape and color on foot and in the air, teemed in harmony. The golden aspen trees waved hello, sending a shimmering carpet of brilliant golden light for all the eye could see. It took their breath away.

Chris took his hat off , letting it drop onto his poncho. He saw Vin finger the leather pouch tied to his saddle horn. Inside, carefully wrapped, was the seashell, a gift for young Tanner. A good gift, the right gift, a gift of the heart. They rode a little further, Vin hadn't spoken a word all day. The closer they got to their destination, the more silent he became. He was nervous and edgy, unsure of what to expect. They he heard a sharp gasp and saw Vin slide from his horse, wordlessly handing the reins over. The keen green eyes scanned the horizon and then the face split into a smle. There, across the expanse of golden aspens, walking towards them was the missing piece of Vin's soul. The tracker's steps were hesitant at first, then they stood eyeing each other. Two right forearms clasped together. The older man reached a hand out and touched the side of Vin's face, then Teheno wrapped his missing brother in a bearhug. A single sob echoed over the pair, drifting far behind to where the other brother waited. The smile broadened, hearing Vin's cry and seeing the heartfelt reunion. He eyed the brilliant blue sky, the dazzling sun and the shimmering waves of gold then engulfed the reunited pair.

"You're wrong, Ezra," he whispered to the wind, awed by the powerful light radiating from the brothers. "Sometimes, all that glitters is gold..."

The End