Creatures of Habit

PART I

Ezra Standish dealt the crisp cards to all those present around the green felt table. Each of them eyed their new prospects with stoic expressions. This was the hand that would make or break the game. The four men sat in imperturbable silence, each weighing their limited options.

Buck was the first to break, the white brilliance of his smile creeping out from under his bushy mustache. He sat to the left of Ezra who had just won his fourth pot of the evening. "I've got you now, you smug dandy." Buck pushed the rest of his money into the center of the table. "I'm betting it all!"

Ezra smiled, his blue eyes feigning innocence. "Is that so, Mr. Wilmington?" The gambler glanced at his own hand but there was no change in his expression.

"Yes, indeedy. It's all over but the crying." Buck leaned back in his chair coveting his cards in his huge protective hands.

JD Dunne raised only a shocked expression at the amount of money now on the table. He regarded his own hand dubiously. "My pockets are already sobbin'. I fold," he muttered in frustration. There was no way he had enough to stay in the game now. Most of his money was long gone and the rest of it was well out of his reach to stay.

Josiah Sanchez and Nathan Jackson sat at the table next to them, drinking coffee and smiling at their own good fortune at having sat out this particular game.

"I tried to warn you, JD," Josiah commented.

The young kid scowled at the preacher. "I thought it was just going to be a friendly game," he admitted, tossing his cards on the table.

Nathan laughed. "When Ezra's involved, ain't no such thing as friendly."

Ezra shot the two men to his left a scalding glance then refocused his attention on the final member of the game. "How about you, Mr. Tanner?" The tall, silent bounty hunter opposite him kept his dark eyes rooted to the cards in his hands, his face so expressionless that for a moment Ezra had a sudden flash of panic. Not that it would ever be witnessed by the public. His mother had taught him well. Still Tanner's dispassionate manner unnerved the gambler. One could never be too sure what the bounty hunter was thinking. The only one capable of knowing such things was Chris Larabee and the gunfighter was not present at the moment.

Vin Tanner neatly collected his cards and then pushed the remainder of his cash into the center of the table. "I'll call," he spoke softly.

Ezra paused a moment before following suit. His hand was too good to fold under now.

Soon there was more money sitting on the table than most of them had seen in a month. Buck glanced Ezra's way and moistened his lips nervously. Then he grinned, leaning forward eagerly to reveal his winning hand. With a flourish Ezra was almost proud of, Buck presented his cards face up on the table. Nathan gave a low whistle.

Three aces.

"Pretty impressive, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra admitted.

"My luck has finally come home," Buck sang loudly reaching for the prize.

"However," Ezra interrupted, "lady luck seems to still be residing with me." He laid his own cards down.

A straight.

Buck stared for a second, his hands frozen above the bounty he thought was his. Ezra smirked at him and slipped his own hands around the money until his attention was caught by a low cough. He raised his eyes towards Vin who sat stone-faced. Ezra lifted his eyebrow warily.

A matchstick was eased ever so slowly over to the other side of the bounty hunter's mouth and then Vin spread his own cards fan like in front of the gambler. "Hands off my winnings, Ezra." His voice was so low and menacing that Ezra looked like a startled rabbit.

Vin displayed a royal flush.

JD burst out in laughter which was soon joined by the only other two people with nothing to lose, Nathan and Josiah. Ezra winced and eased back as Vin finally cracked a smile.

"That's it!" Buck exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "I'm not playing with either of you two again." He slugged back the rest of his beer and wished suddenly it was whiskey. "When the hell does Chris get back? I need to borrow some money."

JD wiped the corners of his eyes on his sleeve, finally getting his laughter under control. "Uhh.... he said tomorrow morning." The young kid snickered again. "Though I doubt even he can help you now, Buck."

Buck glared at JD and stood up to get more drinks but not before he had slapped JD's bowler hat askew on the kid's head.

+ + + + + + +

The night was peaceful and that made it acceptable to Chris Larabee. He settled his weighty saddle next to the crackling fire which was roaring gently, capped with his meager dinner and a pot of hot coffee. Still standing, his gaze tracked to the distant south where the soft glow of Four Corners beckoned. He was only a few hours from town but Chris decided to stay out for the night.

He wasn't in the mood for companionship, conversation, or horseplay. Tonight, he just wanted to be alone, truly alone. He usually enjoyed lively towns, drawn to them for a variety of reasons, some good but mostly bad. It certainly wasn't for the companionship. He never liked being around people. Chris Larabee was one of the few people who could be alone in a town full of inhabitants.

The truth being, he was never one to much enjoy sleeping in the open. There was a vulnerability out here that made it difficult to relax, that made the spot between his shoulders itch. In town he could put his back to something, keep an eye on what was in front of him, safe in the knowledge that little could creep up on him unexpectedly from behind.

But tonight it was different. It was more important to be alone, to keep his thoughts to himself, to avoid any possible discussions, and to think only about things to come. There were critical decisions to be made tonight. For that, he'd forgo a warm bed and solid walls.

He spread his bed roll on the ground and laid his serape down to be used as a blanket later. Using the excess material from his long, black duster, he grasped the hot pot and poured himself a cup of coffee, then fixed himself a plate of food. Settling himself down on the cool earth he leaned back into saddle and ate beneath the open sky, listening to the trees creak in the gentle wind, watching the drifting shadows fall across the full face of the moon.

He found himself relishing the moment. He needed this time to himself. The sounds of the insects and frogs screamed into the night but Chris found it strangely comforting. The swollen blue moon blazed above him making it almost as bright as day. He closed his eyes against it futilely. He wasn't going to fall asleep easily tonight and he knew it. Not that he had expected to anyway.

There was a sudden rustle of leaves to his left and with a blur of motion Chris dropped his plate and drew his sidearm. The rustling noise ceased immediately but Chris' nerves remained taunt as a string, the barrel of his pistol never wavering. He stared intensely into the low brush trying to see beyond it's dark interior. Suddenly, he caught sight of two large, luminous eyes staring back at him, low to the ground and narrowly spaced apart.

Chris relaxed slightly and eased the hammer back. Whatever it was, it wasn't human nor large enough to worry him. He eased his pistol back into it's leather holster with a frown. He picked up his plate again though occasionally eyed the bush which was still silent. Minutes went by and finally the slight rustle started again. This time, Chris didn't react but only drifted his gaze over to the area once more. He glimpsed a small, white form slowly emerge from within the branches.

The gunfighter almost laughed. It was a cat and a pathetic creature at that. The feline slunked towards the fire, it's glowing eyes never leaving Chris who placidly continued eating. It's body hung low to the ground as it crept fearfully forward aiming for the delicious smell that surrounded the camp.

Chris suspected it was slowly starving as he could count the ribs along its side. Its fur was matted and ragged as if it didn't know how to survive out here in the wilderness. It was probably some kid's lost pet. Chris sighed. Just what he needed, another lost cause. He certainly had seen enough of those these past few weeks. He glanced again at the cat which had settled itself by the warm fire but was unable to get closer to the leftover pot. Chris pursed his lips knowing exactly what the cat wanted.

He shouldn't do this. It's bad enough he had placated JD in the Indian village. Now he was stuck with him. The cat stared at him and Chris felt a faint emotional tug for the animal.

He rolled his eyes in frustration. Good lord, what was with him lately! He continually fell for the weak and the pathetic causes. There had been a time when he would have chased them all off with a hail of bullets. Now he seemed doomed to take up their colors and lead the way into battle. He was the king of lost causes, lost hope, lost faith ?? lost love. He closed his eyes, feeling the grit and burn of the constant strain at holding the past at bay. Unsuccessfully. He had never been very good at extricating himself from his own thoughts and it was bound to get him killed sooner or later.

As the sense of melancholy crept in, Chris let his fork drop down onto the plate, his appetite gone. Maybe that's what he was after all along, he mused. Maybe a part of him wanted it to be all over. Maybe it was time to be with Sarah and Adam. His jaw clenched as a wave of fresh pain washed over him. It was always strong, no matter how many years passed, no matter how many times he thought of them, the pain never got easier to bear.

Letting loose a strained lengthy breath, Chris found himself watching the cat again. With a small groan, he tossed the plate over towards the cat, the remainder of his meal still piled high. Since Chris had lost his hunger, the pathetic wretch was welcome to it. There was more than enough left to fill its belly. However, the cat hissed and sped back under the cover of the brush.

Draining the last of his coffee, Chris prepared for bed. He spread the serape over his long legs and leaned back into the notch of the saddle, watching the sky above him, silent and infinite. The stars hung like bright lanterns over the mountains. The night was stark and clear, the black ridges of the distant peaks sharply cut against the faintly lighter sky. It was a long time before Chris drifted off to sleep, listening instead to the cry of the wilderness, to the angry voice in his head, and to the steady scraping of a cat's rough tongue on a tin plate.

+ + + + + + +

Chris opened a bleary eye as the sun cracked her own. Squinting into her glare as she peeked over the distant ridge, he debated rising. For the first time in a long while his head didn't pound with the tell?tale sign of a hangover. He sighed deeply, pulling the thin serape up further over his shoulders. It was chillier than he had anticipated this morning and his eyes glanced towards the now defunct fire. It was then he noticed his visitor.

The white cat was curled up tight beside the stones encircling the embers, trying to draw the last possible warmth from them. The tin plate that Chris had tossed its way last night was scraped clean.

Chris scowled at the creature's presence but then after a moment smiled ever so slightly as the cat opened an eye to stare warily at him. It watched him carefully, ready to flee at a moment's notice. Chris could see the ripple of muscle easily beneath its thin flesh.

Chris just watched it for a while until the call of nature became pressing. He hesitated since he didn't really want to disturb the cat. His scowl suddenly returned. Godamn, it's just a cat!

He rose abruptly and the terrified cat fled into the brush. A pang of guilt tried to find its way into Chris but he beat it away with a curse. Shaking his head, he realized he was getting much too soft.

A half hour later, breakfast done and the small camp dismantled, Chris saddled his mount to return to Four Corners. The cat had not returned and Chris tried not to admit to himself that he was concerned.

Because he wasn't!

He pulled the cinch tight making his horse grunt. Then he swung up into the saddle and turned towards town, his horse's hooves brushed past the pile of leftover meal of grits and biscuits set on a flat rock near the circle of stones.

+ + + + + + +

The sun had risen hours earlier when Vin noticed the lone black horse led by its one time rider at the far end of town. It finally settled the nagging apprehension that had been rising in him since Chris had left. The tracker frowned at his steadily increasing concern over his new friend. It had been a long time since he had experienced such feelings. He used to make sure that such boundaries which he had taken such care and precision to erect could never be breached. Yet here he had let someone in. He had grown to care about Chris Larabee as a friend which was dangerous in its own right since Chris had a self destructive streak that threatened to envelope anyone in the vicinity.

Vin headed for Chris, indicating the black with a nod of his head. "What happened?"

"Threw a shoe," Chris answered with a trace of annoyance. He had been walking for miles and he was beat. He wasn't much for walking and now he was dusty and parched.

Vin took the reins from the gunslinger. "Go get yourself a drink. I'll take him to the blacksmith."

Chris balked. He didn't want to put Vin out but then he realized the bounty hunter did little he didn't want to do. It was just that it had been a long time since Chris had allowed himself to rely on someone else. After a moment, he nodded gratefully. "Thanks. I could use a drink." Vin merely grinned. Chris scanned the seemingly peaceful town. "Anything happen while I was away?"

"Nope. It's been quiet exceptin' that Buck now owes me five dollars and he's hopin' to borrow it from someone."

Chris raised a speculating eyebrow, knowing exactly to whom Vin was referring. "He'll have a long wait," Chris said. "I still have to pay my bar tab."

Chuckling, Vin led Chris' horse to the stable. "I reckon he'll be waiting a good bit then."

Fighting a smile, Chris stomped up on the boardwalk, dust rising from the film that covered his boots. It felt as if he was covered in the stuff. A glance in the mercantile window verified that fact. He looked downright pathetic, kind of scraggly much like that poor feline out on the trail.

It had been one month since Jericho but he still hadn't regained all the weight he had lost during his incarceration??much to the dismay of Mrs. Mary Travis and the rest of the seven.

If Mrs. Travis brought over one more plate of steak and potatoes he was gonna...

Chris sighed. He was going request politely that she desist before futilely taking the plate from her as he always did. He just wished they'd all forget about what happened and get back to normal. That's all Chris wanted, why couldn't they understand that.

It was the guilt, he knew. Buck worst of all. His old friend had hung around like a damn mother hen in the beginning, apologizing every few moments until Chris wanted to haul off and slug him.

Mary on the other hand had nothing to feel guilty about though she acted as if she did. According to Vin, she had led the crusade to find him, not believing Buck's story of just wanting to cut loose. She had conducted her own investigation into his disappearance and uncovered the discrepancies that the Warden and the Sheriff of Jericho had failed to cover up. If it hadn't been for her, spurring the others on, he would have died in that prison. He may have killed the Warden and the Sheriff on his own but there was no possible way he could have gotten past all the guards. They would have hanged him for sure for what he done that night.

Mary Travis had certainly saved his life as much as if she had ridden in with the gang herself. And for that reason alone, Chris found it hard to refuse her home cooked meals and pies when she brought them. Though truth be told, Buck ate most of them. Chris would eat some of it but his hunger had never been enough to finish the entire meal. His appetite had never been that good in the first place and the slow starvation over the three weeks in the prison had all but made that disappear.

Scowling, he brushed himself off as best he could with his hat and escaping the cloud of dust that ensued, he darted into the saloon eager to wet his whistle with a belt of whiskey.

+ + + + + + +

The mouth of the alley was dark and the three men who stood just inside its shadow liked it that way. The narrow set of eyes on the heavy set man swept the open street before him with a suspicious glare. He spoke over his shoulder to the two men behind him without looking at them.

"Doody, go get the rest of the boys. We'll meet at the saloon."

"Okay, Zeke." Doody left quickly going to the horses at the other end of the alley.

The remaining man removed his hat and flicked off some speck of dirt. "You think we'll have much trouble in this town, Zeke?"

A disturbing smile spread slowly over the big man's face. "I certainly hope so."

+ + + + + + +

Chris was sitting at his usual spot along the sidewalk between the feed store and the hotel. It was a quiet nook that gave him a clear view of the broad expanse of street. There was also an alcove immediately to his left in which to take refuge from either the glaring sun or from an unexpected hail of bullets. Both of which had a habit of breaking out over the town.

Right now Chris was irritated at the relative tranquility that had enveloped Four Corners. It had been too damn peaceful for too damn long. For a while he had been grateful for the solace. It had given him the time he needed to get his feet back under him, let the nightmares fade into the background with the others, and let the aches and pains from his time in Jericho subside.

Now however, he wanted to test himself on something, head into a fray and prove to himself that his mettle was still strong. He was tired at shooting bottles and cans, tired of forcing sore muscles past their point of endurance with tedious exercise. It was long past time to see if his body had truly healed.

He checked his pocket watch noting that he still had a half hour before Mary Travis would go on her usual rounds. First to Mrs. Potter's mercantile store to deliver the new edition of the paper; she'd stay and chat for about thirty minutes and then she'd head over to the hotel with her last load. Then she'd head home to make supper. Sixty minutes after that she'd be at his room with a soft knock and a covered plate.

It was a habit she had started while he was laid up and still she declined to let go of it now that he had recovered.

He decided to be elsewhere tonight. A little change of habit would be a good thing--for all of them. It would perhaps dissuade Mrs. Travis from acting so foolishly. The town's folk were already talking about her behind her back-- about him-- about them. It wasn't right for a widow to be carrying on so over a man with his reputation.

Besides, as a gunfighter, it always paid to alter one's routine a bit. Just in case. A constant pattern could easily spell death in a world such as his.

He caught sight of JD striding down the other side of the street. Chris frowned. There was someone else who could use a change of habit. The kid never failed to take the same route on his rounds as sheriff. Chris made a note to discuss it with Buck.

The kid was so damn honored to be Sheriff. So intent on walking tall that he didn't realize the all too real dangers the job held. One day someone was going to come into this town, thinking it was held only by a snot-nosed kid, and there was going to be no one around to help him. Eventually he would have to stand on his own. Could he learn enough in the few months with them to survive in the west without them? Chris almost shuddered. He didn't even want to consider it because he knew the odds were against it.

The gunsmith, Alister Wiggens, chose that moment to ride by on his bay. He nodded to Chris and then grinned in sudden amusement, turning away quickly but not before Chris caught it.

The shootist frowned and then dismissed it. That is until two young ladies, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, ran giggling past him.

Alright, what was so damn funny?

He looked himself over but didn't notice anything grossly out of place. Scowling, he glared at the girls who were now halfway up the street. It was then he felt something thump against his boot. Surprised, he looked down to see a long, white tail lash back and forth from beneath his chair.

Bending over he was in time to see the scrawny white cat from the trail come flying out from under his chair in an explosion of fur and spit. Startled, he reared back while trying to come to his feet in a desperate effort to avoid the feline's panicked flight. Instead the toe of his boot caught on the chair leg and all he succeeded in doing was losing his balance. He sprawled sideways onto the wooden walk. In numb shock, he glimpsed the streak of white dart across the street and slip under the buildings. Chris took mild satisfaction in the fact that the hellcat alarmed a team of dozing horses hitched at the rail.

He was slowly gaining his feet as Buck strolled by. Perplexed, but with a trace of amusement as if he had seen the whole thing, Buck inquired innocently, "Catnapping?"

Chris smoldered and cast an evil eye his way. "Oh shut up." Chris bent to pick up his hat from the boards and then rubbed his elbow absently where it had impacted when he fell.

Buck glanced across the street to where the small tornado of white had vanished. "Now that's something you just don't see everyday," he drawled.

Chris fumed but said nothing, refusing to be drawn into this conversation. Not that that ever stopped Buck.

"Now what do you supposed that was?" Buck asked.

"You never saw a stray cat before," Chris snapped before realizing he had resolved himself to keep his mouth shut.

Buck looked his way making no effort to hide his huge grin. "Not one that wanted to spend time in your company."

Chris stalked his way towards the saloon and Buck annoyingly fell into step beside him. Chris slammed his hat back on his head, offering as explanation, "It latched onto me out in the bush."

Buck halted abruptly making Chris pause with him. Buck's expression was one of mock horror. "You didn't feed it, did you?"

Grimacing, Chris shrugged almost noncommittally. Buck wasn't fooled and a snicker slipped through his lips. He shook his head. "Chris, you outta know better than to cotton to some stray. They bring nuthin' but trouble."

The happy whistling of the new town Sheriff reached their ears just then and Chris' eyebrow rose in mild accusation.

Buck waved his arms wildly in dismissal. "THAT don't count! He was following you, not me," the taller man pointed out quickly.

"Yeah, but if you hadn't kept draggin' him into camp every few minutes..."

"Me? The damn fool kid would have gotten hisself killed if I hadn't kept interferrin'!"

Chris just smirked. "Uh-huh."

"It's true!" Buck insisted to no one who was going to believe him. "He wouldn't have lasted a second out there without me!"

"Um...what were you just sayin' about feedin' strays?" Chris feigned bewilderment.

Buck scowled crossly. "Oh shut up."

They watched as JD sauntered into view and Chris' humor fell away. Turning to continue on his original purpose, he mumbled to Buck, "Tell the kid to change his damn route once in a while, will you?"

Buck regarded Chris curiously from the corner of his eye and grunted. "What about the cat?"

Chris glanced at him sharply. "What about it? Just leave it be. It'll eventually get bored and hungry and move on." Walking away, he added, "I don't care what happens to that damn cat."

Buck watched the slightly hunched shoulders of his friend and knew something was bothering the gunslinger. He wondered what. Standing on the boardwalk, he folded his arms in irritation. But most of all he wanted to know, how the hell did Chris wind up winning this argument? I had him dead to rights with that cat! Sighing, Buck walked back the other way only to bump into JD.

"Hey Buck!"

Buck towered over the young man and poked a stiff finger at the Sheriff's chest. "Change your route, kid," he scolded. "Never let an outlaw see you walk the same path every day. You wanna give him an edge? You wanna get killed?"

JD shook his head, puzzled by the sudden lecture and the odd look in Buck's eye.

"Good," Buck grumbled and walked away.

+ + + + + + +

The saloon was a quiet haven for a change as Chris entered and took his usual table near the back. The bartender noticed him and brought the gunslinger a bottle of red eye and a glass. He left without saying a word. This was the usual routine now.

Chris poured his drink but didn't touch it. Instead, he took in the bar's patrons. There were two new faces that he didn't recognize. The first stranger was a heavy set man and he caught one's attention immediately. He was about the same height as Chris but at least three or four times the weight. But the thing that attracted Chris' eye was the pistol rig that sat around the man's hips. A huge bowie knife balanced out the other side. The damn thing looked as if it was well over three feet long and Chris had no doubt the man knew how to wield the deadly weapon.

The other man sitting beside him was a thin, wiry fellow with ever shifting eyes. He immediately spied Chris' scrutiny and nudged the other man. The big one turned Chris' way with a contemptuous glare.

Chris didn't look away but instead met the man with a dead eye stare of his own. There was something he didn't like about these two.

Unnerved, the big man snarled, "What are you looking at?"

Chris' stance didn't alter. "I'm wondering what business you have in town."

"It ain't no business of yours," Zeke Blackburn retorted.

"Yes. It is. I'm one of the peacekeepers in this town."

"Thug is more like it," the thin man mumbled.

Chris' eyes narrowed. "It takes one to know one," he stated matter?of?factly.

The big man laughed. "Maybe so." He placed a quieting hand on his companion and regarded Chris. "But we don't want no trouble. Ain't that right, Jimmy?"

Jimmy glanced over at Blackburn with a look of astonishment but then slowly nodded, playing along.

Blackburn continued. "We're just waiting on a friend who's arriving in town shortly."

Chris contemplated the story, his eyes still boring into the others with steely coldness. Finally he leaned back, apparently satisfied. "Just so long as there ain't no trouble," he warned.

Blackburn laughed and his little buddy joined in nervously. "Oh there won't be none of that from us."

Chris pursed his lips and eventually lifted the whiskey to his lips. He didn't believe them for a moment. The two men were sharing a private joke at Chris' expense. And he hated to be excluded. He let the whiskey roll around the inside of his mouth for a second before swallowing. He glanced their way again. He wouldn't be excluded for long.

+ + + + + + +

Around supper time, Chris was in the stable brushing down his horse. Chris was of the mind that the black had picked up a bad stone bruise and felt that the horse could use some rest for a while. The blacksmith said the hoof looked fine to him but didn't push the issue muttering if the gunslinger said it was a stone bruise then there would be no argument from him.

Chris pulled the brush down its forehead with long, smooth strokes. The black's eyes were half closed, dozing comfortably with the attention, one hind leg cocked lazily.

Chris absently wondered what time it was. Mary Travis should have tried to find him over an hour ago. He felt a bit bad at his underhanded tactics but it had to be done. It was either that or tell her to mind her own business to her face, but he loathed to do that. First off, it would be embarrassing and awkward for both of them. The last thing he wanted was to get into an argument with the foolish woman. Did she really have no idea what she did to him every time she showed up? Hell, it was probably plain enough for most to see--in more ways than one.

Secondly, he wanted her to figure it out on her own. Why couldn't she see how bad it looked? No matter what their bodies may desire, there was no possible way for there to be anything between them except professional courtesy. She was an intelligent woman and she had to have noticed the rumors and gossip that had sprung up over the last few months since the seven had come to town.

His horse gently butted his chest and Chris realized that his musing had caused him to cease his ministrations. Chris clucked softly and then resumed his motion. The big horse sighed and leaned into Chris. He patted the old horse on the jaw.

Chris heard someone enter the stable with another horse. Attentively, he listened to the horse being stabled and then that someone shuffled his way through the hay strewn on the floor till he was outside the stall. A moment later, Buck's tousled head appeared over its door. A moment after that the aromatic smell of grilled steak and potatoes wafted into the air around them.

"Mrs. Travis has been lookin' for you," Buck informed him.

Chris growled low in his throat with frustration. "So?"

Buck lifted a plate so Chris could see it. It was covered nicely with a red and white checkered napkin. "Well, she brought you your dinner."

Chris could almost hear the silent addition of the word again . Damn, when was this going to end? He refocused his attention on his grooming. "Tell her I'm not eating supper anymore."

"Tell her yourself, you big coward," Buck countered.

Chris shot him a nettled glare. "Damn it, Buck! This has gone on long enough!"

Buck patted his slowly swelling girth. "Well, I've certainly been enjoying it."

"You're welcome to it." Chris pushed against the black's flank and it moved over obediently, enabling Chris to slip out of the corner. "Even though all it does is fuel the gossip-mongers in town," he continued. "She shouldn't be doin' this!" Chris' exasperation over the situation was growing. "Hand me that blanket," he ordered crossly not so much at Buck but at his own inability to regain control over the matter. He indicated a warm wool blanket folded over a bale of straw in the corridor.

Buck set the plate of food down on a barrel and retrieved Chris' blanket. "She's a grown woman, Chris, with a mind of her own. I doubt a little gossip is gonna rattle her."

Chris snatched the blanket angrily and moved back to his horse. "She says that now but later, when we've all moved on, she'll have to stay and live with these people. She'll be forever remembered as the widow woman who doted on a notorious gunslinger and his gang. To make it more colorful, hell, over the next few years they'll probably be calling us murdering outlaws who took over the whole damn place and Mary the shameless hussy who...."

Buck sighed. "Chris you worry too damn much about everyone." Then he smiled. "It's a change." He hadn't missed the fact that Chris had already assumed they were all leaving. Buck had a feeling that some would or should stick around Four Corners despite Chris' predictions.

Chris cursed colorfully as he finished buckling the blanket on his steed and moved back out into the corridor. He scowled at Buck. "Are you here for any other reason than being a delivery boy?"

Buck let that barb bounce off the armor he usually erected whenever around Chris Larabee these days and then grinned. "I'm actually a messenger boy tonight too. The Judge is back in town."

+ + + + + + +

Chris stepped into the hotel lobby and scanned the room for Judge Travis. He saw the old man sitting with his daughter-in-law at a table in the restaurant.

The Judge's sharp eyes caught Chris' entrance and motioned him over. Internally, Chris groaned. He had wished Mary wasn't with him but he had no choice but to go over now. He politely borrowed a chair from a neighboring table and sat down with the Travis'. "Welcome back, Judge," he offered.

Judge Travis grinned between his graying beard and mustache. "It feels good to be back." His voice possessed an innate roughness. "Four Corners is one of the more pleasant stops to make these days. Thanks mainly to you and your men, Chris. Mary tells me things have been relatively quiet since the last time I came out this way."

Chris shifted uncomfortably under the Judge's scrutiny. "Yeah, it's been peaceful." He quickly took the opportunity to bring up the something else that had been on his mind of late. "Looks like you might not be needing us much longer." He noticed Mary's startled reaction to that sudden news.

"I still think Four Corners is a long way from being a respectful, law-abiding town, Mr. Larabee," she interjected quickly. "We still need your services."

Chris reined in his frustration. Couldn't she see how desperate her statement sounded? And in front of the Judge to boot! Chris felt his face flush. Sensing the Judge's eyes upon him, Chris swallowed hard and met them. But the Judge's face held only mild interest. He merely waited for Chris' reply.

"There will always be some trouble but the bad element ," Chris emphasized those words specifically for Mary's benefit, "has been eliminated for the most part."

The Judge nodded and took a sip of his beer. "Still, there seems to be enough agitators occasionally to warrant your presence for a while longer."

"It's nothing a good Sheriff couldn't handle with some competent deputies to back him up."

Judge Travis raised an amused eyebrow. "I thought that's what I had," he pointed out.

"What you have Judge are some hired..." Chris agonized over his next word. "...thugs. Which is fine when you're going after big game but completely unnecessary for just mild infractions of the law. You don't need us to break up a drunken brawl or arrest a inept pickpocket."

The Judge sat back quietly mulling over what Chris said but he also noticed the gunfighter's antsy behavior. He briefly wondered what was causing it.

Mary meanwhile harumphed from the other side of the table. She leaned determinedly towards Chris who immediately reared back as if resolved to keep a specific distance between them at all times. Mary frowned. "The minute you leave Four Corners, the bad element, " her tone mocked the words, "will no doubt return."

"There will come a time when you're just gonna have to risk it," Chris shot back.

The Judge's eyes twinkled as he folded his arms and watched the interplay between his fiery daughter-in-law and the proud shootist. He knew there existed an attraction between the two. No one could argue as much as they did without it sparking something more.

The surprising thing was that the Judge wasn't bothered by it in the least. In fact, he welcomed it. He admired Chris Larabee, despite the gunfighter's notion that he had a less than stellar reputation. That was beside the fact. The Judge could see qualities in the man that elevated him far above most of the upstanding citizens presently residing in Four Corners. The lack of support from said citizens during the James trial came swiftly to mind.

Then there was the fact that Chris Larabee had done more for his family in the last couple of months than most people do in a lifetime. He was indebted to Chris for saving the life of Mary and his grandson, for bringing the killers of Stephen to justice, and for saving the life of the Judge himself.

Yes, Chris Larabee had permanently and irrevocably touched the Travis' lives in more ways than one. It was something the Judge never took lightly.

He watched his daughter-in-law arguing with Chris. There was such passion in her delivery. Rarely had he seen her speak that way with Stephen. She had always been so doting on his son, so willing to take up his crusades like a good wife should. But this was a new Mary and Orrin Travis found he liked this new person, strong-willed and tenacious at times. She held back few punches and laid her cards clearly upon the table. The trouble was that intimidated most men, Chris included.

Mary had fallen hard for the gunfighter. The Judge chuckled. It was so obvious. Then his mirth faded. It was unfortunate that Chris Larabee also came with ghosts and demons. The Judge had caught a glimpse of those things that Chris held close to his soul when Jock Steele had come to town. Even the Judge had to admit that the man Chris had transformed into during that time was a frightening creature. Such a beast as Chris carried with him would not be tamed till the murderer of his family was brought to justice one way or another. The Judge understood that. Mary, unfortunately, did not.

"...the time that cowboy pulled a gun on Mr. Stanford?" Mary was arguing. "If Buck hadn't been there, Mr. Stanford would have been dead."

"That gun was falling apart," Chris retorted angrily. "The trigger was broken. He was only a desperate, starving cowboy looking for some measly cash. I don't consider that trouble."

"Well, I think..."

Sighing, the Judge interrupted. "Chris, I don't suppose you would care to join us for dinner?"

Chris cast Mary an irritated glance and stood, grateful for the excuse to escape. "No thank you, Judge. I've got some things to do tonight." He tipped his hat obligingly at Mary. "Mrs. Travis." Then he turned sharply on his heel and left the hotel.

"Oh that man!" Mary declared pushing an annoying curl behind her ear.

"He's right," the Judge noted.

Mary's stunned face turned towards him. "What?"

"The town of Four Corners has greatly improved over the last few months. Soon there won't be a need for the seven."

That statement struck Mary hard. She was unprepared for it. She shook her head. "But soon doesn't mean right now. There's still so much that needs to be done. Lucas James could still retaliate; Guy Royal could come back..."

"Mary," the Judge called softly.

"Just the other day, the stage was robbed not ten miles from here. The outlaws were never apprehended..."

"Mary," the Judge called again in a gentle voice. "We can't keep them here forever."

Mary stopped and raised pained eyes to her father-in-law. "We still need them," she insisted quietly.

"Them--or him?"

Mary felt the rush of blood flood into her cheeks. "What do you mean?"

"I may be a tired old man, Mary, but I'm not as dense and codgity as some would think. Chris Larabee is a good man and Stephen's been gone for over a year now. It's only right that..."

Mary stood abruptly bumping into the table in her haste. The Judge looked quietly up at her after he settled his gently rocking glass. Flustered, she began, "Orrin..."

"Mary, sit down," he said sternly. She numbly sat back, her hands folded in her lap. Orrin sighed and then placed his elbows on the table, leaning in nearer. "This is a hard life you've chosen for yourself out here. I don't intend for you to remain alone out of deference to my son's memory. The risk to you and Billy is far too great. I want you to find love again and I wouldn't care if you found it six months ago or on this very night. And neither would Stephen."

Mary stopped biting her quivering lower lip, reaching mindlessly for the glass of water but did not drink it. "But what if...," she fumbled for the right words and came up empty. Orrin thankfully continued.

"But what if you fell in love with the wrong person?"

Mary sat there rigid, her only thought was the horror that he had known all along about her feelings for Chris Larabee. Everyone in town must know it too. She flushed an even deeper crimson.

Orrin cupped her small hand. "Chris Larabee may have been many things in this life, both good and bad, but I'm willing to look at what I see here and now. And from where I sit, he's a fine man who's had a very hard life."

"But the townspeople....all the gossip..."

"Hell with the town. They're a bunch of idiots anyway. Besides, if you were worried about them you wouldn't have associated yourself with Chris in the first place." He took a deep breath and locked her gaze with his own. "Just remember Mary that Chris is a man who's wounded. A man like him won't be willing to just let go of the past. He'll have to go and find some way of laying it to rest. And you're going to have to let him."

Mary turned away from Orrin for a moment. He was right. She knew that but it didn't make it any easier to face. "But he might not come back," she whispered fighting a losing battle with her emotions.

Orrin squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Then he's a fool."

He leaned back as the waiter arrived with their steaks. He had said his peace. There was nothing further to add. It was up to the two young people now and he trusted them to work it out.

Mary picked up her napkin and tried to repair any damage to her face and eyes. Confound you, Mr. Larabee, she cursed silently. Why did things have to be so complicated?

PART II

With the mercury falling, Chris Larabee rested on his small bed, his all too thin blanket pulled up around him. It was too damn cold to go to sleep and his mind was too damn worked up to let him anyhow. All he could think of was Mary Travis. If it were up to her the town of Four Corners would never be perfect regardless of how "civilized" the town became. There would always be something else that was wrong. If she thought for a moment that he was going to stay in town indefinitely and chase off drunks and thieves all his life, she had another thing coming.

And to make an issue out of it in front of the Judge! God, how exasperating. And yet Chris had jumped right into the argument without batting an eye. What the Judge must think of the two of them.

He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Stupid woman. Stupid woman with her golden spun hair and her ivory cheeks reddened with the heat of battle. Her temper was at once frightening in its intensity and then magical in the way it transformed her timid countenance into a blazing attractive woman. Chris had always admired strong women. He had married the strongest one he had ever met.

Sarah.

The all too familiar stab of pain reached his heart and he tossed to the other side of the bed and stared out the window. The glass had been broken on the lower left side where a stray bullet had shot out the pane. He had tried to put a board up to keep the cold outside air from entering but he could still feel the draft on his exposed face. He reached up and unhooked his duster from the nearby peg and spread it over him collar down towards his feet. Tomorrow he would see about finding a spare blanket against the growing colder weather.

He could hear the steady thumping of feet on the boardwalk below him as a few patrons from the saloon left for the night. It was still early and the saloon activity was nearing it usual crescendo. Usually, Chris would be among them, watching for trouble and nursing a bottle, but tonight he had decided against it. He had been worn out and tired from this morning's forced exercise and he thought his aching body could use the extra sleep. He was wrong.

It was Mary's fault. She had gotten him so riled up that now sleep was elusive and instead he was forced to lay here with nothing but his painful thoughts as company. Tonight whenever he had looked at Mary he had seen Sarah. Mary's blue eyes had turned into Sarah's green flashing ones; Mary's glowing blonde hair had turned into rivers of soft auburn curls. Chris' mouth went dry and he swallowed laboriously.

He suppressed a shiver and then angrily tossed back to the other side, the bed creaking noisily with the shifting weight. He reached down and pulled a bottle from under the bed. It was a brand new one which he had purchased days ago and surprisingly it had remained untouched.

Until tonight.

He pulled the cork out with his teeth and after spitting it out, took a long swig, grimacing against the burn as it ran down his throat. He drank angrily against the memories, against Mary's stubbornness, against his own inane frailty. It wasn't until the sun was only hours away from making her appearance over the mountains that Chris Larabee finally fell into a deep sleep.

+ + + + + + +

The night air chilled in the darkness. The town of Four Corners settled into silent slumber as webs of icy frost spread their fingers upon the various structures. Like a creeping thief, its frigid touch enveloped everything in its path. Beast and man alike scrambled for refuge.

The soft padding of feet heralded the approach of something small on the window sill. A pair of luminous eyes lit by the fading street fires stared through the glass. The man inside lay curled on his side, snoring peacefully. Minutes stretched on and still the eyes just watched, never wavering. Then finally, a paw lifted to scratch at the block of wood in its way. The obstruction didn't budge. The creature could sense the prospect of shelter and something more within its grasp. It tried again this time with more conviction. Inch by inch the wood moved and finally offered just enough space to allow entrance.

With a spry leap it landed on the wooden boards and froze, watching anxiously to see if the man moved. But he didn't. Again it waited a bit as if gathering courage to perform its next act. Then galvanized by a distant memory, it padded closer. With a graceful leap it alighted on the end of the bed, eyes flicking towards the figure but still the man remained oblivious.

Feeling carefully around for a safe warm spot it curled up against the leg of the man and quickly drifted into a similar oblivion.

+ + + + + + +

Chris thumped down the stairs late the next morning and grabbed a table off to the side away from the glaring sunlight. His skull thudded dully from his hangover. The woman who ran the boarding house, Mrs. Springhill, saw him and immediately recognized the state he was in. With nothing more than a frown of disapproval, she laid a pot of coffee and a china cup before Chris and moved away.

Pouring himself a cup of the thick black liquid, he immediately wrapped his hands around it, relishing its warmth. Despite the dropping temperature last night, he was surprised to find he wasn't frozen solid this morning. Usually it took hours to ward off the chill from his extremities. Instead, he had been warm despite the fact that the wind had blown aside his feeble attempt at blocking the night air. He had found the block of wood from the pane pushed aside.

He debated complaining to Mrs. Springhill but then opted against it. There was little that could be done until the replacement pane of glass was shipped from St. Louis. She had assured Chris that it would arrive before the winter.

Vin entered the room and quickly found whom he was searching for. He sat down at Chris' table, taking his hat off and setting it beside him. Smoothing his hair down he nodded a greeting to Chris. Mrs. Springhill brought another clean cup and offered it to Vin with a sweet smile. Vin returned it with one of his own. Mrs. Springhill flushed and darted away with the barest of giggles.

Vin shrugged his shoulders at Chris' raised eyebrow. Mrs. Springhill was obviously smitten with the long haired bounty hunter as was a great many of the other female persuasion in town. It had garnered him many small gratuities. Vin reached over and poured himself some coffee and then sat back. "I followed those men you pointed out last night." Chris looked up with interest. "They got some rooms at the hotel and then this morning they multiplied."

"By how many?" Chris felt that nasty tug at his intuition again.

"Five more of them rode into town this morning."

Chris swallowed the last of his coffee and then stood. "Maybe it's time to find out what celebrity is gracing us with this presence."

"The big one ain't gonna like it much," Vin pointed out matter-of-factly. Disappointed, he set down the steaming cup of fresh brewed coffee and rose to follow his friend.

"He's gonna like it even less if he doesn't give me a straight answer." Chris grabbed his hat and walked past Vin who fell into step beside him.

Vin's eyes narrowed and then his long fingers plucked something off Chris' shoulder. "You going gray prematurely, Chris?" He was studying the short thin hair that dotted the back of Chris' black duster.

Chris paused, turning. "What?"

Vin held up the hair. "You're covered with it."

Chris craned his neck to take in what Vin was talking about. "Oh for the love of ...." Chris sighed in exasperation. How the hell had that happened?

Fuming, Chris brushed at it futilely and only succeeded in raising a cloud of the stuff about him. Giving up, he stomped out of the boarding house. Vin followed perplexed and yet slightly amused. He recognized the hair as animal but how it had gotten on Chris was positively baffling. Maybe it was from Buck's horse. Chris had been in the stable yesterday. Vin studied the hair more closely. It wasn't as course as Buck's grey. Frowning, he realized it wasn't horse hair but something else--but what?

Minutes later, they strode down the sidewalk and gathered Buck who noticed the determined walk of their leader.

Buck sidled up to Vin. "What's up?"

"Strangers."

"The big fella and his little toadie?" Buck asked. He had observed their arrival yesterday as well.

Vin nodded. "Except that they bred overnight. There's seven of them now."

Buck gave a low whistle and then nodded at Chris. "Is that what's got him riled?"

Vin shrugged. "Not exactly sure."

Chris barreled through the saloon doors with Buck and Vin just behind him in the form of a flying wedge. Once inside, they took up positions on either side of the room to back up Chris who halted in front of the table where five of the seven strangers massed.

As the dark shadow fell across Zeke Blackburn the big man glanced up with a smile on his face as if he had been expecting Chris all along.

Chris' cold eyes stared down at him. "I thought you were expecting only one friend," he stated tensely. Blackburn laughed, a sound that grated against Chris' nerves.

"We still are. There's just a bunch of us waiting now."

Chris leaned down lower. The man named Jimmy eased back away from the gunfighter and Vin watched the thin man's hands carefully. "This person must be one hell of a celebrity to have so many well-wishers," Chris hissed. "Or is there another reason you're all waiting on him?"

Blackburn's eyes narrowed. He stood up slowly. "Like I said before, it ain't none of your business. He's just a friend of ours."

Chris smiled then. Only it wasn't a genuine one of mirth. Instead it was one that immediately sent Buck to cringing. It was the half crazed smile that Buck had learned long ago meant trouble. There was going to be a fight.

"It is my business," Chris insisted. "You have five seconds to tell me who it is you're waiting on."

"Or what?" sneered the big man.

The saloon doors swung open and in walked JD and the Judge. JD had his shotgun with him. The tension that had suddenly been building ebbed away. Chairs shifted and hands became more visible.

"What's going on here?" the Judge asked. "Chris?"

It took a few seconds before Chris eased back out of the other man's face. He didn't turn to look at the Judge but merely stated, "Just getting some details, Judge." His piercing eyes impaled Blackburn who glared back with equal venom.

JD was a little surprised at the situation. The Judge had walked up and told him to bring his scattergun and meet him at the saloon. JD hadn't even realized there was going to be trouble. He had seen the strangers ride into town but they hadn't done anything to warrant arrest or even suspicion. But something had set Chris off. "Details about what?" JD asked.

"Why seven men show up in town waiting on no one of any importance," Vin offered.

The Judge walked up to stand by Chris. He regarded the big man seated at the table. "I'm Judge Travis, the circuit judge around these parts. And you are?"

The big man swallowed and dragged his eyes away from Chris. "Zeke Blackburn." He gestured to the frail-looking man to his right. "This is my brother Jimmy. We're waiting on the arrival of a friend of ours. He's due to hit this town any day now."

The Judge gestured to the rest of Blackburn's compatriots. "This friend of yours has drawn quite a crowd. Mind explaining why?"

Blackburn cast a quick glance at Chris and took in the determination of the gunfighter. He pushed down his own anger and returned his attention to the Judge. He pursed his lips as if concentrating for a moment. "The eight of us, my seven friends here and the one that's coming, all live a fair piece distant from each other. Four Corners was the most convenient spot to meet for old times' sake."

Buck snorted and Jimmy glared in his direction.

The Judge nodded. "Well, you're welcome in our quiet little town, so long as you keep things peaceful."

Blackburn smiled but to Chris it was a smile that was better suited to the face of a snake. He would have loved to wipe it off Blackburn's face. "Why don't you just tell us your friend's name?" Chris demanded. Chris enjoyed seeing a flash of annoyance cross the big man's face.

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" Blackburn retorted angrily.

"Nope."

The Judge looked between the two men and realizing that the situation was escalating again, added a rationalization to Chris' question. "This way we'll be sure to direct your friend to where you're staying once he arrives."

Blackburn's teeth were clenched but he hissed out the name anyway. "Mike Mathias."

Judge Travis nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Blackburn. We'll be sure to keep an eye out for your friend. Chris, may I see you a moment outside?" Without waiting for an answer, the Judge walked out the swinging doors.

Chris stood stock still for another moment or two then his head cocked to the side in a mock farewell to Blackburn before following the Judge.

The Judge was waiting for Chris outside, arms folded and mouth set. Chris came up to stand in front of him. The Judge did not look happy. The gunslinger waited patiently for the questions that were coming, questions to which he had few answers.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" Judge Travis asked.

"They're trouble," Chris said simply.

"Based on what?"

Chris almost said 'experience,' but refrained. The Judge had plenty of that himself and the old man certainly didn't feel the same way about the new arrivals. Maybe I'm just over?reacting, Chris thought. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another then stopped abruptly when he caught himself doing it. "I'm not sure yet, but I'm going to find out."

The Judge eyed the saloon behind Chris where Vin and Buck were now emerging and coming towards them. The Judge regarded Chris again looking uneasy. "Chris," he began, "I've granted a great deal of liberty to you and your men in my absence. But...." he faltered. Vin and Buck flanked them and were now listening to the conversation.

Stiffening, Chris stated, "Just spit it out Judge."

Drawing a deep breath, he said, "If you break the law while I'm here in town, Chris, I may be forced to take action if someone brings charges against you."

Chris' face twisted painfully at the warning. "I won't throw down on Blackburn if that's what's worrying you."

The Judge shook his head in exasperation. "No, that's not what I meant, but you're bordering on harassment and if Blackburn is smart enough to make an issue of it, my hands will be tied."

Chris sighed wearily. "It won't come to that, Judge." He looked Judge Travis in the eye. "But I tried to warn you what we were and if you don't like the way we work then perhaps its high time to let us go and get someone reputable to take care of your town." He stomped off. Vin followed after him while Buck stayed by the Judge.

Buck exchanged a glance with the older man.

"Something's bothering him," the Judge said matter-of-factly, almost paternally.

"Damn if I know what it is."

The Judge bit his lower lip and noticed Mary walking across the street in the distance on her way to the printing press. Chris immediately veered away from her. "It's almost as if he wants to be forced out of Four Corners," he muttered.

Buck laughed. "No one forces Chris to do anything, he don't want to do."

The Judge rubbed a slow hand down his chin. "You do when you don't have the strength to do it yourself."

Buck's eyes trailed to where the Judge was staring. The tall, trim shape of Mary Travis as she entered her office made things suddenly clearer. "Sometimes Chris is a bigger fool than I am," Buck said softly.

+ + + + + + +

Chris turned to Vin who was walking steadily beside him. "Think you can backtrack some of these fellows? Find out something that will advocate what it is that bugs the hell out of me about them."

Vin smiled ever so slightly. "I can try."

"Take Josiah with you. I'll check the wanted posters with JD."

"You thinking about that stage coach robbery a few days back?"

Chris shrugged. "If I wind up slugging it out with one of them, I'll need a damn good reason for the Judge."

This time Vin grinned widely. "I'll find you a reason if that's all you want." His tone implied more than just looking.

Chris stopped and glanced sharply at his friend, then shook his head. "No. I just have a bad feeling, is all. One that won't go away."

"Sure you're just not worked up over something else?"

Removing his hat a moment, Chris scowled and raked a hand roughly through his hair. "God, I hope not." The dull remains of his hangover still thudded within his head making his mood even more foul.

Vin moved off in the direction of the stables. "I'll go gather up those reasons for you." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Try not to start anything while we're gone, okay?"

Chris grinned wickedly. "Sometimes you ask too much of me."

+ + + + + + +

Chris had settled in the saloon. Thankfully none of the strangers were present. For the last five hours, JD and he had poured over every scrap of paper in the Sheriff's office only to come up empty. None of the wanted posters, old or new, even faintly resembled the men. Chris was now truly doubting himself. Maybe he was just getting bored. Maybe he just wanted something to happen in the quiet town so much so that he was subconsciously creating a situation.

His head hung low over his whiskey glass, his lean arms encircling it protectively though it still remained as full as it was a half hour ago. His taste for the stuff had waned while he was in Jericho. Simmons had seen to that even if it was purely by accident. The old doctor had horded his prize bottle of rotgut, drying Chris out without even realizing it. Also Nathan insisted he cut back for a time. Said it was too much of a strain on his weakened system. Unfortunately it only made Chris more and more irritable.

Chris tried desperately to make sense of all that was colliding within him. He couldn't latch onto anything with any conviction save that there was something driving him. Something that lingered out of his reach and yet had hold of him whenever his back was turned and his defenses were down. He hated the uncertainty of it all.

Buck and Ezra wandered into the saloon and plopped down at Chris' table. Chris glanced up expectantly but Buck shook his head. The two men had just come from JD's office.

"We went through the last of them. Nothing." Buck plucked Chris' whiskey glass from its spot and downed it in a gulp. Chris frowned but said nothing.

"Whomever those gentlemen are," Ezra noted, "they have certainly steered well clear of the law over recent years."

Chris toyed with the label on the bottle. "Or else they're just starting their careers."

Ezra laughed. "Ever the hopeful, Mr. Larabee! Perhaps we could just make up a poster of our own on them. That would solve all our problems."

"I'm not in the mood, Ezra," Chris warned.

"A pity, Mr. Larabee." The gambler settled back in the chair, brushing at the dust coating his hunter green jacket. "Mr. Dunne needs to clean out that alcove he calls an office more often. I have rarely seen as much dust gathered in one location."

Ignoring the usual gripes of the dandy who was fastidious to a fault, Buck leaned close to Chris. "You want us to do anything else, Chris?"

"Just don't take your eyes off them. Take them in shifts and let me know the minute this Mathias fellow shows. I want a look at this guy."

Buck nodded, already half expecting the answer. "JD wired Barton's Ridge for a description of the guys who robbed the stage. Maybe that'll shed some light on these guys."

Chris rubbed a tired hand over his face. "Good. Whatever information we can find will help."

Just then, three of the strangers entered the saloon and with lingering eyes on Larabee and the others, they took some chairs near the bar. Murmuring to themselves but casting glances at the rival table they fell into snickers. After their drinks arrived, it didn't take long for their voices to rise.

"I've never seen a more pathetic looking bunch of deputies in my life," one bellowed, a man with bushy eyebrows named Whiffle.

"God almighty! Did you see the baby totin' the sheriff's badge?" This one was Doody, a smaller man with beady, narrow eyes, his coat worn and muddy. "I wonder how often they have to change his diaper."

The last man, Rich, waved a hand in front of his wrinkled nose under which a huge, red mustache sprouted. "Not often enough, that's for sure. Hell, you can smell 'em from here."

Buck squirmed in his seat and then stood but Chris caught his arm. Lowering himself back down, Buck looked questioningly at his friend. "I thought you were the one all fired up to tangle with these fellas," Buck prompted.

"The Judge said no."

Buck fought against the smile that threatened. These changes in Chris' habits were getting mighty interesting. He just wasn't sure if it was for the better or not. Now wasn't the time to ease back on intimidation.

Ezra added his own two bits eager to avoid a skirmish. "I think we're mature enough to take a few insults." He had just gotten his wardrobe mended from their last excursion and he was in no mood to mar his handiwork over such childish affronts.

Chris poured Buck another shot of whiskey and slid it over to him. Buck drank it quickly without even looking.

The men at the other table lowered their voices again and then sat back apparently settled. Ezra, Buck and Chris leaned back in their own chairs. It was then that Buck noticed that their attention was turning to Chris. Doody whispered in the ear of Rich whose eyes had not left the man in black. An evil smirk began to spread beneath the red mustache and Buck got a very bad feeling.

Buck turned to Chris. "Let's get out of here."

The attention of the other table hadn't escaped Chris either but the gunslinger did not move. "No," was all Chris said.

Buck muttered a small prayer, knowing things were going to get worse. If the men wanted to start something with Chris it would be obvious as to what would trigger him. The rumors that spread in this town made it very easy for strangers to pick up the dirt. Buck waited for the obvious one: Mary.

Rich set his beer down with a clatter. "It's bad enough that we have to put up with the stink in the street but there's no reason to tolerate it in here."

Buck's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. What were they up to?

Whiffle shouted for the bartender. When Seth Becket approached, the man gestured towards Chris. "Since when do you allow animals inside this establishment? It's damn unhealthy."

Becket looked at Chris, perplexed and afraid for a moment to have been involved in this situation, but then his eyes caught a glimpse of white beneath Chris' seat. Pointing, Becket said to Chris, "That's got to go, Larabee. Ain't no pets allowed in here."

Chris' eyes never left the table of strangers. He knew damn well what was under his seat. He had watched it slink in a half hour ago and the creature had curled up against his right leg. Realizing just how foolish it would look to try and get rid of it, he figured to just ignore it. That notion just went up in smoke.

Buck bent under the table and took a quick look. A scrawny, white cat lay poised under Chris' chair, it's body as close as possible to the gunslinger. Surprised at it's boldness, Buck whistled and came up grinning. "There's a kitty under your chair, Chris."

Ezra's eyebrow just rose slowly over his left eye. He could see a sliver of white against the darkness of Chris' duster. "Indeed."

Chris just breathed deeply with exasperation but didn't move. "It's not a pet," he told Becket. "Just a stray."

"Well, get it the hell out of my saloon. It's disturbing my customers."

Chris waited a moment and then retorted, "The only people it's disturbing are some two-bit drifters that have nothing better to do than try and make trouble. Leave it be. It's not doing anything."

Becket shrugged and was about to go back to his business when the man with the red mustache hauled off and threw his mug in Chris' direction. It shattered two feet in front of Chris, throwing broken glass and beer over Chris' boots. The cat had darted away with ample time and headed for the far wall. The obnoxious group broke out into raucous laughter.

"That sure got it runnin'!" one howled.

Chris stood slowly within the span of ten heartbeats. He glanced down at the mess and then he quickly jerked his attention back up to the red mustached man, his eyes suddenly growing cold.

Buck winced and stood up too. "Here we go," he mumbled.

Ezra shook his head and bid silent farewell to the pristine state of his coat.

The group of men were bellowing with laughter at their antics. It stopped abruptly when Chris' fist closed about the throat of the man who had thrown the glass. "Some things just annoy the hell out of me," he hissed. "Want to guess what one of them is?" His lips curled back in a mockery of a grin.

Whiffle stood up abruptly to help his friend only to find Buck in his face. Doody narrowed his beady eyes and reached for his holster. A flick of Ezra's arm and suddenly his hidden derringer snapped into view, making Doody ease off of his rash action.

"Commendable, sir," Ezra said.

Chris shook the man in his grasp making the man's eyes bulge. He released his grip slightly. "Next time you want to throw something at me, you better think it through real careful. You got that?" Rich nodded his head urgently and Chris let him go, backing off.

Buck leaned over and added. "You throw like a girl anyhow."

The lips beneath the red mustache twisted into an angry grimace at the insult.

Becket came back over and pointed to the cat that was hunkered down at the far end of the wall watching the situation with wary eyes, its ears flat. "What about the cat?"

Chris cursed under his breath. "What about the damn cat?" he snapped. People were way too preoccupied with the feline.

Doody side?stepped away from Ezra and quickly pulled out his gun. "I'll take care of the mangy stray." He leveled the barrel in the direction of the helpless feline.

Chris moved like lightening and grabbed the man's arm forcing it down. It discharged harmlessly into the floor. With a single jerk, Chris pulled the man closer and struck him mercilessly across the jaw. The man went down hard.

JD burst through the saloon door and immediately his shotgun swung to cover the three men currently being disarmed by Buck.

Buck picked up the man on the floor and shoved him to his friends to hold him upright. "You can arrest this man for discharging a weapon within town limits, Sheriff."

"There's no such law," the mustached man retorted, glaring at JD hoping to stare him down. He was just a kid after all.

JD held his ground. "As a matter of fact, there is." It didn't matter that he hadn't heard of that particular law before now but it certainly sounded logical and he trusted Buck's judgment implicitly.

The beady eyed one pointed at Chris. "What about him? He attacked me!"

JD raised an eyebrow at Chris but only said, "Seems to me he stopped you from possibly hitting an innocent bystander with your drunken shooting. That's not against any law in my book."

"Why you little...!"

Buck stepped quickly closer and slammed his knee into the back of the man's knee, the spot where the crease crossed the hollow. The man crumpled to the floor. Unhurt but embarrassed, he jumped to his feet then spun wildly on the scoundrel. "Damn you!" You're gonna pay for that!" He regarded the rest of them. "You all are!"

"Is that right?" Buck asked. "Well hell, don't keep us waiting. It's gettin' too boring around here as it is."

"Soon," the man with the overgrown brows muttered and then was nudged into silence by his friends. The men clammed up then and JD dragged the beady-eyed fellow down to his office. The other two disappeared, most likely to inform Blackburn of what happened.

Becket gestured to the only problem left. "It's still here."

Taking a deep steadying breath, Chris glanced over towards the crouching cat. Slowly, without any sudden movements Chris approached the terrified creature. Buck could just make out a muted whispering and realized with a start that it was Chris talking softly to the cat. It was the same voice he used when the gunslinger busted broncos on his ranch so many years ago. The voice that had stilled the wild eyes of many an untamed horse. It had been a long time since Buck had heard it.

Chris crouched down just inches away from the cat. Surprisingly it didn't bolt but it was still nervous, the green, slanted eyes quick to catch any movement behind Chris. The gunslinger continued to creep closer and before the startled cat could dart away, Chris' arm snaked out and snagged the cat by the scruff of the neck.

Ezra leaned in towards Buck. "I've been observing that feline all day. It never permitted a soul to get within close proximity of her. Mr. Larabee certainly has a surprising way with animals."

"I don't think that cat is giving Chris much of a choice in the matter," Buck returned. "But damn if Chris isn't slowly warming up to it."

Chris approached them holding onto the cat which was squirming and hissing, but Chris' large hands held the cat in a tight close embrace. Bit by bit the cat relaxed till it was still and quiet in his arms. Chris wrapped his duster around it for an added feeling of security. He glanced over at Becket. "Satisfied?" he growled.

Becket mumbled something and turned away. Chris left the saloon flanked by Buck and Ezra.

"Well, that was interesting," Buck said not making it clear whether he was referring to the fracas with Blackburn's men or Chris' antics with the cat. Chris merely grunted.

Ezra piped in from the other side. "I do believe Blackburn is direly trying to pick a confrontation with you, Mr. Larabee."

"Just wish I knew why," Chris muttered. "The name Mathias means nothing to me; it's not a shootist of any note."

"And he doesn't appear to be an outlaw with a reputation," Buck added. "So who the hell is he?"

"Most likely we won't ascertain that verity until the proper moment," Ezra said. "In the meantime, we should just keep vigilant." He cocked his head for a moment and listened. "What is that sound?" he declared.

Puzzled, Buck listened as well. Chris was the only one who kept moving steadily. Buck put an ear closer to his stoic friend. "Well, I'll be damned! It's purring!" He laughed heartily until Chris turned a cold, austere look on him.

Ezra fought the grin that brought his gold tooth into play. "Mr. Larabee, I do believe the creature has become smitten with you."

Chris dared them to continue laughing with a stern gaze and the two men muffled their mirth with great effort. They straightened, biting their inner cheeks to hold it in. Buck nudged the gambler's arm. "Come on, Ezra. Let's go check on the kid." He jerked his head in the direction of the Sheriff's office.

Ezra nodded emphatically. "Yes, we'll make sure those ruffians do not insist on the emancipation of their compatriot." Thankfully the two men began walking away from the humorless gunslinger.

Chris retreated around a corner and into an alley. Within seconds of his disappearance the loud guffaws and hysterics of the two men he left behind could be heard. Chris glared down at the cat curled comfortably in his arms. It gazed back and drew its lids into relaxed slits, the purring growing more intense.

"You're not staying," he muttered to it. "So don't get comfortable." He abruptly let go of the cat and it leaped to the ground. Chris expected it run but instead it started weaving itself about Chris' legs, brushing appreciatively against his shins. The gunslinger tried to move away but nearly tripped as the cat darted forward with him. A stream of verbal curses followed and Chris finally threw up his arms, chasing the creature away with a snarl. The cat finally fled away down the alley.

Chris smirked in satisfaction. He waited a few seconds to make sure the cat wouldn't come back. Then he turned back to the street only to find himself face to face with Mary Travis. Her bewildered expression showed that she had not seen the cat but had unfortunately witnessed him waving his arms about wildly. Then her blue eyes strayed down to his chest for a second and her brows narrowed curiously at the site. Embarrassed, she glanced back up quickly, her hands going up to the white, snug collar at her ivory throat as she caught herself. God, she was being positively brazen!

Peering down, Chris saw his black shirt was covered in white cat hair. With a disgusted sigh, he pulled his duster closed and snapped his head back up angrily. "What can I do for you Mrs. Travis?"

"I--um--wanted...." She paused, flustered. His flashing green eyes made her forget momentarily what she wanted to say. Her cheeks flushed red at his gruff expression. Recalling what it was she needed, she straightened with resolve. "I'm going to Barton's Ridge for a few days tomorrow and I'd like to..."

"You should take an escort," he interrupted curtly.

Mary scowled. "Of course, I need an escort. That's what I came to..."

"Especially since the stage was robbed near here," he interrupted.

Chris realized suddenly that they were still in the confines of the alley. It wouldn't look right for the two of them to be seen hiding in the shadows. Remedying the situation, Chris walked abruptly past her out onto the street. "I'll ask Nathan to go with you."

She whirled around with annoyance at his actions. Just where did he think he was going? They were discussing something! Frustrated, she turned to follow him. "Fine," she sighed, muttering afterward, "At least I enjoy his company!" The man was positively exasperating!

A flash of movement down the alley they had just vacated caught her attention and her heart jumped but then she saw that it was just some animal, a raccoon or a possum perhaps.

"What is it?" Chris asked noting her startled stance.

Embarrassed at her foolish reaction she dismissed the matter. "Nothing. It was nothing." She watched him as his eyes scrutinized the alley for some danger and immediately she felt safe again. Only to be reminded that he was leaving soon and again she felt that all too familiar pain at the very notion of it.

Orrin had told her that there were some men in town who might be some trouble and a new kind of fear afflicted her. Orrin had mentioned it more to warn her to steer clear of the situation but now all she felt was worry. This town never seemed able to rid itself of trouble which of course only proved her point but that was another matter. Instead her only true thought at the moment was that the man before her had only one month ago been beaten, starved and stabbed like some helpless animal. And now he was having to face down danger once again. She was afraid that he needed more time to heal before dealing with a situation like this.

Chris shifted his gaze from the alley to Mary and she was caught suddenly again in the grip of his intense stare, eyes narrowing at her apparent distress.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded quickly and tried to deflect his attention. "Orrin tells me there are some trouble makers in town." When he said nothing she continued. "I'm certainly glad you're all still here. Who knows what could have happened if Orrin was alone to face them."

Chris scowled. "They're here because of me, Mrs. Travis."

"What?" Orrin hadn't mentioned that.

"They're looking to start something with me. If I had left when I should have they probably wouldn't be here causing trouble in your little town."

Mary's heart was suddenly thudding against her ribs. "What do they want with you?"

"A fight most likely."

"Like a gunfight?" Her alarm was steadily increasing.

"Or a fistfight. One of the two." Chris shrugged as if the difference between them was negligible.

"You can't be seriously thinking of fighting! You're barely well! It's only been a month..."

"It's been long enough, Mrs. Travis. Whatever comes I'm ready."

"But there's no reason to. Not with everyone here in town to back you up."

"I'm not anxious to fight them but if they start something, I'm going to finish it." His eyes smoldered slightly with anticipation. He would like a straight out fight rather than all this dancing around. He felt a small pressure on his arm and glanced down to see a frightened Mrs. Travis gently touching him.

"Promise me you won't fight them," she pleaded.

"Mary, I can't ..."

"I'm not leaving town then." Her indignation flashed stubbornly.

Exasperated, Chris cursed silently. He could almost hear the willful stamp of her foot. "Mrs. Travis, you need to leave town for your own protection if nothing else."

"Not until you promise not to fight them."

Chris shoved his own stubborn nature to the side. He doubted he was going to win this argument anyway. "I've already promised the Judge I won't fight. Does that satisfy you?" he asked irately.

She lifted her chin and reined in her sudden wayward emotions. "Yes," she stammered slightly. "Yes, it does."

"Good," he retorted. "Nathan will pick you up at seven tomorrow morning. Good day, Mrs. Travis."

She bit her lip and realizing that there discussion was at an abrupt end, she nodded to him and walked down the street towards her office.

Letting out a tired breath and rubbing his face roughly, Chris leaned back against the wall of the nearest building after she was gone. Their time together lately seemed suddenly full of nothing but friction. Life in Four Corners had suddenly gone from dull to explosive in just a few days. Was it him? Why was leaving such a dilemma?

Just leave , he shouted at himself. There's nothing keeping you.

But there was.

Mary Travis was still visible as the small tornado of emotions and womanly ire tore down the street. He watched the bobbing of Mary's bustle. She was so blasted headstrong. So confident in the Seven's ability to bring order to their little corner of the West, but she was being foolish. Things were just never that easy. Not for men like them. Not for him.

He shook his head. What was wrong with him? He had made the decision to leave Four Corners that night in the camp. The night the damn cat had showed. It had been such an easy decision to make out there where the night was quiet and peaceful, but the implementation of such a decision seemed suddenly impossible. He couldn't understand his problem. Just get on his horse and ride out. He had done it a hundred times in a hundred different towns.

He straightened from the wall and walked down the sidewalk watching as the small town went about its business. Some people tipped their hats his way, some of them were even the folks that were so vocally against the Seven remaining all those months ago. Things changed and people did too it seemed.

Chris knew why the reason his decision to leave Four Corners was a difficult one. He had obligations suddenly to the town, to the Judge, to the Seven, and to Mary. He couldn't just ride out regardless of how much he wanted to escape.

And maybe that was what was bothering him. Where at one time he was beholding to no one and he carried no baggage, emotional or otherwise, other than what he rode in with. Now suddenly, at a time when he normally would have just moved on, he felt trapped. It was all of his own doing of course. He could have just ignored the problems of Four Corners that first day and kept his own council. He had done it before. But not this time and it was all because of a certain blonde widow who had stubbornly stood up to a bunch of murdering cowboys. It had struck something deep within Chris, something that he thought he had long since buried. Mary's spunk had reminded Chris of another spitfire and with that thought in mind, he found he couldn't turn away.

Except now he was trapped in a cage of his own making. He only had to decide whether it was a cage worth escaping from or just accept the fact that some cages weren't all that bad. The trouble was every time he thought he had made his decision and was ready to leave something kept drawing him back.

Climbing the stairs to Nathan's apartment, he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming his tumultuous thoughts. He had other things he should be concentrating on at present. All this thinking about his own inner qualms would only dull his instincts on other important matters. Namely Mathias and Blackburn's gang. They might or might not be the ones who held up the stage but either way trouble was brewing again in Four Corners.

Chris knocked on the door, grateful in a way that Mary was going out of town. At least this way, if something broke, she'd be out of the line of fire. Barton's Ridge was a quiet enough town. Then Chris had a sudden thought. He had camped between Barton's Ridge and Four Corners the other night on the trail. He wondered....

Nathan opened the door, a little surprised to see Chris there. "Hello Chris. Everything all right?" The black man gestured the gunslinger inside.

Chris nodded. "I've got a few favors to ask you Nathan," he said mysteriously and then followed the doctor into his office.

+ + + + + + +

Vin sat crouched over the remains of a fire about six miles outside of town. He had been there for twenty minutes or so when Josiah could take the suspense no longer.

"So what's the verdict, Vin?"

Vin rose slowly brushing the dirt from his breeches. "Blackburn said they were all meeting in town. Comin' from miles around to converge on Four Corners."

Josiah recognized the absorbed state of his friend as the bounty hunter slowly pieced together the clues he was no doubt finding. "That's what the man said. But I have a feeling that's not what you've found."

Vin poked a stick into the ashes of the old fire pit. "There were about six or seven men camped here for quite awhile, three maybe four days. There's six or so layers of ash here."

Josiah loved to watch a master at work and Vin's skills as a scout were downright amazing at times. It was remarkable for someone to read all that in the remains of a long ago fire.

The lean bounty hunter walked over to some trees nearby. "They picketed their horses over here." He sank down nearer the earth once again. "Blackburn and his brother both supposedly rode into town on their own but this here hoofprint," he pointed it out to Josiah, "is from Blackburn's horse. He had met up with his friends earlier before coming into Four Corners. The rest waited and came in later." He rose again and approached Josiah who handed him the reins of his horse. Vin had checked out Blackburn's mount before coming out and had found that the horse had a notch in the rear hind hoof.

"So we know he was lying," Josiah commented.

"Yup. But what exactly does that mean?" The steady building of apprehension began inside Vin.

"It don't mean he's a criminal...yet."

"Just a liar." Vin glanced at his partner. "And that's just as bad." He rubbed a hand gruffly over his jaw and then mounted smoothly. "You up for some more riding?"

"What you got in mind?" The big preacher mounted his own horse, the leather creaking as he settled his weight.

"The stage got robbed between Bentree and Barton's Ridge. Let's go see if there are any clues that the Sheriff over at Bentree might have missed."

Josiah grinned. "Lead on, brother."

+ + + + + + +

Night fell quickly over Four Corners in anticipation of winter. The bitter cold air drove everyone indoors making the saloon a noisy and bustling place much to Chris' pleasure. The hectic atmosphere distracted his mind, refusing to allow his thoughts to wander again to the personal demons plaguing him of late.

Ezra was sitting at a table playing poker with some of Blackburn's men. The game was kept to a friendly crescendo. Chris couldn't figure out if the gambler was just playing it safe to avoid a fight or whether he was attempting to leak some more information from them in addition to some of their cash.

With Ezra one never quite knew what was top priority. That irritated Chris. Standish was one of the most exasperating individuals Chris ever had to deal with. Normally, the gunfighter would just have ignored him and left the man to hang because eventually he would. You piss off the wrong kind of people often enough, eventually one of them was going to pay you back in full.

Chris had never expected the gambler to stick around this long. He had helped the Seminoles originally for the gold, stayed in Four Corners just to earn his parole, but Chris doubted the Judge would care one whit if the gambler took off now and yet Ezra stayed. The gambler had done his turn in protecting the town in spades. No one would question his disappearance nor blame him for seeking out greener pastures. And yet, the gambler continued to risk his life when someone of his character would normally have put self preservation at the top of his list and been long gone.

For that Chris was grateful though that didn't mean he trusted the gambler yet. It would take a whole lot longer than just a few months to build that kind of loyalty, especially after that stunt he pulled with the Seminoles. But Standish was trying or at least that was what he wanted Chris to believe perhaps.

Chris shook his head. Trying to understand a gambler's loyalties was like trying to understand what card would fall next from the deck.

Buck walked in through the main door and immediately spied Chris keeping an eye on their quarry. Becket had removed the bat doors and replaced it with a solid oak door to keep out the chill of the evening--among other things. Shaking off the cold, Buck settled himself noisily into a chair opposite Chris. "Damn, it's cold out there once the sun goes down." He motioned to Becket to bring him a beer and then sat back.

"I gave Nathan the early watch since he's leaving tomorrow. Him and JD will patrol till eleven, then the two of us can take over."

Chris nodded distractedly, still watching Ezra. Buck bent quickly under their table, drawing Chris' attention. "What the hell are you doing?" the gunslinger growled.

Buck popped up with a smirk. "Just checking for hairballs."

Scowling, the gunfighter grew annoyed. "Just keep your mind on the business at hand and forget about the damn cat."

Buck leaned back, tucking a hand into his belt. "Chris, you're failing to see the humor in this situation. Come on, even you have to admit, this whole thing is pretty hilarious."

"No I don't and it isn't. I don't have time to worry about some mangy stray. It nearly started a brawl."

Buck waved a dismissive hand in the air and guffawed loudly. "And who cares?" He leaned closer. "There was a time when you liked fights, you know."

Chris' face grew taunt in exasperation. "There's a time and place to fight, Buck, and it shouldn't be over a stupid cat."

Buck snorted. "There wasn't no fight. We handled it brilliantly and you got to save your kitty."

"Damn it, Buck!" Chris was rapidly approaching his breaking point on the subject, not that Buck could ever tell or maybe he just didn't care.

"Oh just admit you like the stupid thing and get it over with, Chris! Maybe then I'll leave you alone."

"Like hell."

Buck grinned and raised an conceding eyebrow. "Your call," he conceded.

"Damn straight." Chris sighed and threw back a whiskey, hissing through its burn.

"What you gonna name it?" Buck added quickly with an impish leer.

Chris almost cursed again but instead he let his anger develop into something more devious. He leaned forward sneering. "I'll name it Buck, so every time I kick it out of my room, I'll get a warm happy feeling inside."

The big man frowned, pulling back. "No need to get personal about it." But the smile quickly returned on the scoundrel's face. "I'm just glad to see you happy even if it's at my expense."

Chris sat back and shook his head. "Just keep your mind on Blackburn and his gang."

Buck sobered, his fun done. "Don't worry, Chris. They're never far from my mind." He glanced Ezra's way. "You really think they're gonna cause trouble?"

"They're in town for something more than a friendly soiree. I can feel it."

"You sure it ain't because you're confused on another matter?" Buck inquired cautiously.

Chris' face hardened abruptly. "What do you mean by that?"

The big man shrugged and shifted in his chair, suddenly regretting the fact that he had brought the subject up. Sometimes he spoke before he thought about the danger of it. "I just mean you seem to be sort of distracted."

"Distracted how?" Chris knew exactly where Buck was going with this and he was furious at himself that it had been that obvious.

"You know...the last few weeks since Jericho...you've been... well antsy."

Chris breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe he hadn't been obvious after all.

"You know about Mrs. Travis," Buck added.

Chris groaned almost audibly and silently fumed at his friend. "This ain't got nothin' to do with Mrs. Travis."

Buck eyed the gunslinger, not believing him for a second. He had been watching the two of them for some time now and continuously puzzled over the fact that Chris and Mrs. Travis danced around each other so often and with such caution that they might as well put their arms around each other. In Buck's opinion, if the attraction was there, and it obviously was, then two people should act upon it, take advantage of the fire to keep each other warm on cold nights. Where was the harm in that?

Buck had come to the conclusion that what both Mary and Chris needed was a good passionate roll in the hay to break down those barriers they had erected so long ago based on honor and morals and memories. The two of them had been hurt badly by life and after all this time suffering, they had finally found the salve that would soothe both their wounds--each other. Only they were too stubborn to realize it.

It didn't matter if the relationship lasted a few years, a few months or even just a single night. It would do them both a world of good to just let loose their inhibitions and let the healing process start. Buck knew from personal experience just how rejuvenating the act of two people coming together in an act of tenderness could be.

Hell, with all the healing knowledge that he had collected over the years on the subject, Buck considered himself a member of the medical community. Of course, he just strictly limited his practice to a certain clientele. There wasn't a woman who had fallen under his tender mercies that didn't walk away feeling refreshed and whole.

Buck was just about to relate this theory of his to Chris when Blackburn burst into the saloon. The man with the beady eyes was with him and fixed Chris immediately with such a hateful gaze that Buck actually became a bit worried.

Blackburn spied Chris and came over, his huge boots marking his path well with a heavy clumping sound. "Next time you lay a hand on one of my men, Larabee, you better try me first."

Chris stared back impassively. " Your men? So you're admitting that you're their leader?"

Caught in a blunder, Zeke Blackburn reared back for a moment and tried to cover up. "My friends merely look up to me."

Chris kept his voice low and emotionless. "Well, if any of you are stupid enough to discharge a firearm within town limits, then it looks like I'll be slapping the lot of you."

"Just try it, Larabee." The man practically towered over the still seated Chris who calmly fingered his drink with his left hand.

Chris glanced at the man's holstered gun then back up. "I'm waiting," he said simply.

The beady eyed man pulled Blackburn's arm. "You'd better not, Zeke. Mike won't like it."

Blackburn turned on the smaller man. "I don't give a damn, Doody. He's the one taking his bloody time getting here." But the big man stepped back regardless. He scrutinized Chris once more. "You'll get yours soon enough, Larabee."

Chris displayed a bored look of indifference as Blackburn and Doody took seats at Ezra's table. Only Buck noticed the slight movement under the table that indicated that Chris had removed his hand from his Peacemaker. Buck followed suit.

Buck frowned and swallowed some beer to wet his suddenly dry throat. "You should have popped him one Chris. In my opinion."

Chris brought his right hand back on the table to reach for his whiskey. "The Judge said...."

"I know! I know! The Judge said not to," Buck finished, flinging himself back forcefully in his chair. "Why did Judge Travis have to come back to town this week of all weeks. We could have wiped up this bunch of bastards yesterday and been done with it. Now it's just growing into something a whole lot bigger and a whole lot meaner."

Chris remained silent, his thoughts his own.

JD came in and sat down with Buck and Chris. He gestured helplessly. "Blackburn paid the fine on Doody. There wasn't anything I could do. I had to let him go."

Buck consoled the kid. "You done right, JD. Besides, we did what we set out to do and that was annoy the hell out of them while teaching them a lesson."

"We know now they have money," Chris pointed out.

"And a lot too," JD said. "The Judge made the fine a hundred dollars. Blackburn paid it without flinching."

Buck grunted and swirled his near empty glass upon the wooden table. "They ain't no drifting cowboys that's for sure. Not throwin' that kind of cash around."

JD lowered his voice, leaning in closer to the other men. "You think it's the money from the stagecoach robbery? The strongbox held near to ten thousand dollars." His voice sounded almost excited.

Buck quickly fueled it. "Might be, JD. Might be."

Chris frowned at Buck. The kid didn't need any more encouragement on the topic of wild west adventure. He wished Vin and Josiah would get back. Chris was hoping that whatever information Vin could find out there would alleviate some of the nagging holes in Chris' theories. If Vin came back empty handed then Blackburn and the others would have the upper hand and that only meant disaster for everyone at Four Corners.

+ + + + + + +

Vin and Josiah reined in at the Sheriff's office in Bentree. Wearily dismounting they tied their horses to the hitching rail and entered through the lit door. Sheriff Bruster greeted them. He knew of the men who guarded Four Corners at the behest of Judge Travis and if they had the Judge's blessing then they were fine with him.

He reached out his hand, recognizing Josiah from a while back. He hadn't seen the preacher in a long time. "Sanchez, isn't it?"

Josiah warmly grasped the Sheriff's hand. "That's right and this is my friend Vin. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Bruster indicated for them to take a seat. "What do you think I can help you with?"

"First off, you ever hear of a Zeke Blackburn or a Mike Mathias?"

Bruster shook his head but then suddenly paused. "Wait, there was somebody calling himself Mad Dog Mathias here a few days ago. Huge man, kinda kept to himself."

"When did he leave?" Vin asked.

Bruster pondered for a moment. "Just the other day. He was heading for Four Corners."

"Anybody with him?"

"Nope. He was alone. Why? What's he to you?"

"A bunch of men are already in Four Corners waiting on him," Josiah answered. "Curious as to what sort of man draws that kind of attention."

Bruster laughed. "Well, he's one to do it. He's a mighty big fellow. Bigger even than you." He inclined his head towards the preacher. "He stands out in a crowd."

"He tell you why he was heading for our next of the woods?" Vin asked. That bad feeling was returning with a vengeance.

"Don't know. Never asked. But Mathias did hang out with Lola at the saloon. You might want to ask her."

They asked about the stagecoach robbery also but there was little the man could offer that they didn't already know. Vin and Josiah rose. "Thank you Sheriff. We appreciate your time," Josiah said.

Bruster stood with them. "Anytime. Let me know if you need any further help. Anything for Judge Travis. He's a good man."

Josiah smiled. "Yes, he is."

Taking their leave of Bruster, the two men walked towards the Silver Dollar Saloon. It was a quiet, somber place, typical of a small town establishment. Mostly old men and the few local single residents of Bentree lurked within its walls. Two saloon girls sat at a poker table more one of the guys than offering female companionship. Obviously, the woman were well acquainted with the usual clientele and knew who could pay for their services and who couldn't. Their eyes however lightened with exhilaration the minute they noted the entrance of Vin and Josiah.

Vin asked two beers of the barkeep who slid the foamy brews down the length of the bar towards them. Catching it in the cup of his hand, Vin felt the cool liquid slosh over his fingers. He brought them up to lick off the excess just as the two working girls slid up on opposite sides of him and Josiah.

Vin tipped his head politely. "Evenin'."

With eyes that held all the hunger of a predator, the raven haired girl on his right moistened her lips. "Well, evenin' to you too. Care to buy me a drink, stranger?"

The red haired vixen by Josiah slipped her arm on the inside curve of his and nearly purred with delight at the hard muscle she felt there. "It's been such a dry evening. I could use a drink too."

Vin smiled winsomely at both of them. "Well, we certainly might wet your whistles if'n one of you ladies was named Lola."

The woman with the black hair suddenly grew wary. "What do you want with her?" she asked hesitatingly.

"Nothin' but information," Josiah responded, deepening the resonance in his voice to a soothing almost hypnotic tone. He found that it was a very handy attribute when dealing with women and animals.

The red beauty smiled gently in return. "Is there some monetary reward for this information?"

Vin and Josiah exchanged sideways glances. Then Vin shrugged. "Depends on whether the answers we get are worth our while."

The two women leaned back a bit to regard the other, using subtle facial expressions to reach a decision.

"Okay," the woman on Vin's arm said, "I'm Lola. What do you want?"

Vin smiled one of his easy smiles. "Like to know about a man called Mathias. Heard he spent some time here in town."

Lola whistled low at the memory. "He was a bear of a man." Her gaze swept up and down Vin. "He'd break you like twig." There was a slight half smirk on her face. "Ain't that right, Rebecca?"

Rebecca grinned devilishly and dug her fingers into the muscles layering Josiah's arm. "Yeah, but I bet this one would give him a run for his money."

"Liked to fight, did he?" Josiah asked, politely tolerating this female cougar's touch.

Lola laughed loudly. "Fight? Hell, he might have wanted to but there wasn't a man here that could've taken him."

"He boasted he killed twelve men with his fists alone," Rebecca added. "They were all fair fights he said."

"Did he say where he was heading?" Vin asked.

Lola was silent for a moment and then answered, "Four Corners."

"Any notion why?"

The two women sobered. Lola looked around almost as if expecting a huge form to come lunging out from the shadows. "Revenge," she whispered. She looked up at Vin with sad eyes. "And I feel sorry for the man he's after."

"Did Mathias say who it was he had a grudge against?"

"Didn't say, 'cept that this man killed a cousin of his."

"Had him hung," Rebecca clarified.

Vin scowled. He had thought that Mathias was after Chris based solely on his gunslingin' days. That didn't seem to be the case suddenly. There had only been a few men that now qualified as suspect and most of them had been hung on the order of Judge Travis not Chris.

"Did he say who his cousin was?" Vin pried.

"He used to be big around these parts. Always mouthing off, saying he was somebody," Lola said. "Weren't nobody at all really."

"Ugly cuss too." Rebecca remembered and suppressed a shiver. "God, I hated him. His breath could stop an army in its tracks." She attracted Lola's attention with a waggle of her hand. "What was his name?"

Lola's face screwed with concentration. "It was a stupid name."

"To go with a stupid man."

Things fell suddenly into place and Vin's gut wrenched when he realized who it was the women were discussing. "Top Hat Bob Spikes," he said quietly.

Rebecca snapped her fingers. "That's him. What an ugly bastard! Glad he's dead."

Josiah tapped Vin on the shoulder. "Things make a whole lot more sense now, don't they?"

Vin nodded. "We have to get back to Four Corners. Warn Chris." The trouble with small towns like Bentree was the fact that there were no telegraph lines strung out this way yet. Only the bigger towns had them. Vin and Josiah had a hard ride ahead of them.

Josiah set his beer on the table along with a substantial donation for the ladies, his mind already elsewhere. "He's gonna challenge Chris."

"Chris isn't up to a fight, Josiah. Not with the likes of this fellow--not after Jericho."

Lola touched his arm with a slight look of horror. "You know the man Mathias is going after?"

"Yeah, he's a friend."

Her expression fell into one of extreme sorrow. "I sure do pity him then." She pushed back some of the cash. "Here. You might be needing it for his funeral."

PART III

The relative tranquility that permeated the slumbering town only served to make Chris Larabee extremely nervous. Like the calm that heralded a violent storm, he could literally feel the forces in the air. Trouble was coming.

A part of him was relieved, grateful for the distraction from the sudden rash of decisions that he would soon have to face, but then there was the other part of him who was suddenly fearful. Not for himself but for those around him. Where at one time he had been a loner, a man with no cares and no one to care about, now he was surrounded by folks that could be used against him. It was the main reason he knew he should leave Four Corners, to keep his friends and above all, Mary and Billy, safe. Eventually one of his enemies would realize the best way to get at him would be to strike at those he had come to care about.

If he had been smart, he would have left months ago. The Judge had officially only hired them for a month or two till he could get someone to replace the cowardly Marshall and his deputy that had taken off soon after Chris arrived in Four Corners. Instead it had dragged on for a whole lot longer. He wasn't exactly sure why they had all stayed. He supposed when the Judge never replaced JD as sheriff, Chris suddenly was obligated to stay. As long as that kid insisted on remaining Sheriff, the more likely this town would attract the wrong elements. Outlaws would determine Four Corners as easy pickins. The only reason they stayed away was because the "deputies" changed the odds.

Unfortunately, that meant more exposure to a life Chris had struggled to put behind him. Every day now was a battle to forget the life he had once possessed. Mary and her son epitomized everything that he had once held dear and lost. He was helpless in the throes of those memories. The small bits of action would occasionally distract him but then the battle would be over and life would return to the normal pace it was used to and Chris would come face?to?face with his living nightmares. There was only so much a man could take, especially a man like Chris. He should do what he always did. Leave. Find someplace new with unfamiliar faces and filled with souls as lost as his own.

He heard someone come up behind him and he spun, crouching low, drawing his pistol in one fluid motion. Ezra Standish stared hard at the metal gunbarrel pointed at him. He swallowed carefully, lifting his eyes to Chris.

Chris straightened and holstered his Peacemaker. "Next time, call out or you're liable to get shot."

Ezra swiftly raised a contrary eyebrow. "I did call out, Mr. Larabee. Unfortunately you were engrossed and did not care to acknowledge me."

Chris scowled, angry at himself. Things like this were happening with all too much frequency. Sooner or later, these new habits were going to be the death of him. "What is it, Ezra?" he growled.

Ezra smiled unfazed by Mr. Larabee's foul mood. He had grown overtly comfortable with the cranky gunslinger during their association. "I have some particulars to relate concerning our mysterious visitors. Interested?"

Fuming at Ezra's snide way of asking, he snarled, "Just spill it, Ezra."

The gambler sighed with undue suffering. "As you wish. During my stint with the gentlemen , I discovered that most of them, if not all of them, are related in some fashion." Ezra's face twisted slightly ill at the thought. "I thought it a fascinating if not disturbing fact."

Chris was silent, mulling this new information over. Family. Blackburn wasn't a name he recognized nor was Mathias or any of the other names they already knew. They weren't any family he had come in contact with to his recollection. "They're all related to Blackburn?" he asked Ezra.

"Most are. One of them is even related to Mathias. That doesn't account for all of them but it seems that this family reunion story of theirs carries a bit more credence. Wouldn't you say?"

Chris caught the gambler's eye. Suddenly Chris' doubts loomed larger than ever. Maybe he was overreacting to the whole thing. Was the sedentary life so repulsive suddenly that he was willing to stir up trouble just to avoid it? It certainly seemed that way. He nodded to Ezra, grateful for the information and the fact that the gambler had been spending his time wisely. "Let me know if you find anything else." He turned and walked down the sidewalk, his thoughts suddenly irresolute and uncertain.

Ezra watched him a moment, understanding the gunslinger more than he knew. Life in Four Corners was fast becoming too civilized. Where at one time Ezra would have rejoiced in such splendency, it was rare that the gambler would partake of such bounty for long. It was dangerous and not very profitable. People became wary. Even now, it was only the steady salary of the Judge and the fleecing of the occasional, unknowing passerby that filled Ezra's pocket. For now that was enough but still the quietness created an itch underneath his collar that couldn't be scratched. Eventually, when the Judge's tolerance of them ran out, Ezra would have to leave this f air town. Yes, he understood Chris Larabee very well. They were practically kindred spirits.

Ezra was taken aback at that thought. Shaking himself, he dismissed it quickly. That would never be! They were completely different in every way, their clothes, their manners...

He caught a small, ghostly shape emerge from an alley and trot after the gunslinger, tail held high. Chris remained completely oblivious. A smile spread over Ezra's face. "Not too mention our associates," he snorted. He returned to the sanctuary of the saloon still chuckling.

+ + + + + + +

The sun was just barely up when a hulking figure entered the sleepy town of Four Corners on horseback. The few working people on the street took quick notice of the newcomer, his sheer size drawing their attention.

Nathan was on his way to have breakfast prior to riding out with Mary when he saw the huge shadow ride down the center of the street. The stranger's horse wearily turned into the hitching rail and halted abruptly. With a creaking of leather and bone, the rider dismounted and tied the animal to the rail, not that it could walk another step regardless. There had been enough hubbub about town that Nathan knew exactly who this man was.

JD was just coming out of his office, his hands settling his bowler hat meticulously on his head. He too saw the big man. His eyes widened with the realization that this could be the man for whom they were waiting. He looked around wildly for a moment and then found Nathan only a few doors down.

The healer was close enough to be heard. "Get the Judge and the others. I'll wake Chris." The young sheriff bolted for Mary's residence where the Judge was known to be staying.

Nathan walked swiftly to the boarding house. He knocked on the door to Chris' room. He thought he heard a brief thump like something hitting the floor. He hoped it wasn't Chris. However, a few moments later Chris' sleep crusted voice drifted to him. "What is it?"

"He's here."

Less than a minute later, Chris opened the door. He was in the process of tucking in his rumpled shirt. Finishing, he raked a hand through his disheveled hair. "Where is he?" he asked simply stepping back to allow Nathan entrance.

"He just entered the saloon. Chris, the man's a bear. He's bigger than Josiah." Slipping inside, Nathan glanced briefly around but didn't see anything that would account for the odd sound he had heard earlier.

Chris quietly strapped on his holster, tightening the leather before fixing it into place under the buckle. He grabbed his hat and then nodded to Nathan. "Let's go have a look."

Despite the early morning the saloon was filling up. A loud, bellowing voice could be heard above the din.

"...a dog-face coward if he won't face me!"

Nathan glanced over at Chris. "I reckon that's our boy," he said.

The minute Chris entered the saloon the men inside quieted and all eyes turned towards him except for those belonging to the massive man standing at the bar. His back still towards the door as if he wasn't worried in the least, the big man finished his beer and then set it deliberately down.

Chris noticed that Blackburn and his cohorts were surrounding the newcomer, half of them grinning ear to ear, the other half possessing eager eyes for a fight that was only moments away.

Finally the big man belched loudly and while wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he slowly turned around. It took only seconds for him to pinpoint the slight man in black whom no one stood near save Nathan. In fact, most of the patrons in the bar had taken intentional action to separate themselves from Chris Larabee.

Chris said nothing but continued to size up the man, searching some sort of weakness. There didn't appear to be any.

As Mathias scrutinized the man in black, Blackburn leaned closer and whispered something in the behemoth's ear. A burst of laughter erupted from Mathias. He looked down on Blackburn but gestured to Chris. "This is the man you're all so worried about? Hell, Zeke, he ain't even as big around as my pinky finger!"

Blackburn bristled but said nothing not wishing to annoy the man who could easily squash him like a bug.

Chris caught a glimpse of movement on the stairs to his left and saw Ezra slinking slowly down to a better position. The gambler looked as if he had just woken up himself. He wore only his pants and his unbuttoned, ruffled shirt from the night before, but Chris knew with absolute certainty that Ezra was also well armed. Chris flicked his eyes back to Mathias. "You lookin' for me?"

Mathias laughed and then straightened off the bar, rising to his full height. "I'm lookin' for a low down, murderin' coward. You him?"

"Someone stupid enough to call me that won't stand long enough to repeat it," Chris said icily. He was in no mood for verbal games. If they were going to fight then he wanted it over with now.

Mathias look a large stride forward to stand directly in front of Chris but the gunfighter stood his ground despite the fact that he had to crane his neck back in order to continue looking the man in the eye.

Mathias glared down at him. "Did you just threaten to shoot me?"

Chris cocked his head to the side. "I don't know. Did you just call me a low-down, murderin' coward?"

The huge man coldly regarded Chris, carefully thinking over his next response. Then he howled loudly in amusement making some men cringe with the sound of it. "It's a coward who battles insults with a gun," Mathias bellowed for all to hear.

"And it's a conceited bastard who feels he has to fight to prove something." Chris' voice was almost a whisper in comparison to Mathias' booming voice. "You got something to prove?"

"Yes I do." Mathias' breath washed over Chris and it took everything in him not to flinch from its foulness. "Revenge."

"I'm ready whenever you are," Chris retorted.

Suddenly the Judge's voice came from behind him. "It's a bit early for these kinds of shenanigans, gentlemen. Is there a problem here?"

Chris' posture deflated slightly with exasperation. Trust the Judge to interfere at the wrong moment.

"No problem, Judge," Buck answered coolly from the right side of Chris. "Just finding out where things stand is all."

Chris hadn't even heard Buck come into the saloon but he should have realized that his friend wouldn't be far from his side.

"You'll both be standing before a court of law if you start fighting," Judge Travis warned the two men. As much as he may want to this matter to finally come to a head and get done with, he'd be damned if he would allow Chris Larabee to fight this man. The Judge didn't need a doctor's opinion to know that Chris just wasn't ready for this kind of physical one-on-one battle. It'd be suicide for Chris and damn near murder for the Judge if he allowed it. He'd stop the fight one way or the other and he wasn't above using guilt to get Chris to back off.

Mathias poked a beefy finger harshly into Chris' chest. "I have a bone to pick with this piece of scum and I am to break it clean in half."

Chris' hand darted out and grabbed the intruding finger and bent it near to the point of snapping. "Like this?" he asked innocently.

Mathias grunted but didn't cry out. Instead his face portrayed murderous intention. "Exactly," he hissed.

The Judge immediately stepped forward and locked Chris with a pleading but stern gaze. "Chris!"

At the Judge's command, Chris slowly released his grip and stepped obediently back but his attention never left the large man before him.

"You are a coward, Larabee. I was right all along." Mathias rubbed his aching finger.

Chris bristled at the words. If the Judge hadn't been standing there the big blowhard would have been already down on his knees sucking wind. As it was, Chris stayed his hand for the Judge alone, but to Mathias he had one final thing to offer. "If you're hot to start somethin' mister, I'll be more than happy to finish it." He turned on his heel and left the saloon, confident that the others would watch his back.

Buck walked out with him. "Well, that just blew the 'in town for a family reunion' theory out of the water. He's definitely after you, Chris. You sure you don't know him?"

Chris, his anger still boiling beneath the surface, turned on Buck. "No, I don't know the damn son?of?a?bitch! And I'm damn well tired of never finding out because the Judge continues to interfere. If he doesn't like the way we handle things, then he should damn well fire us!"

Buck instinctively reared back from Chris' outburst but then realized Chris was just venting his frustration. Unfortunately, Buck was growing tired of constantly being in the firing range, but then that seemed to be his lot in life these days. He decided to throw some logic back at Chris knowing that the consequences could be painful. "Then why the hell don't you just leave, Chris. You seem to be all fired up to go, but here you stay, griping the whole time. What's holding you here?"

Chris' face hardened, the lines in his face deepening. "Buck...," he warned.

"It is the Judge? Or Mary?" Buck saw the swing coming and tried to duck but Chris Larabee's arm was like lightening. It connected solidly with Buck's jaw and he went down.

"Mind your own business!"

A startled gasp made Chris look up and saw Mary watching him from the sidewalk, her hands to her face.

Chris cursed furiously to himself and stared at her, furious at having her witness his foul temper. He also noticed that the Judge, Nathan and JD were exiting the saloon now with perplexed faces at the sight of Buck sprawled in the dirt. Buck slowly gained his feet again but Chris spun around and stormed down the street.

The Judge came over to Buck and asked more out of curiosity, "Did Chris just hit you?"

Buck glanced nervously at the older man and then shook his head. "Naw, we was just discussing options."

Nathan's dubious eyebrow rose at that response. "Which option did you settle on?"

Buck smiled even though it hurt. "That you get Mrs. Travis out of town right now. Don't let any of Blackburn's men see you either."

"Chris figures they're gonna use her against him?" Nathan asked.

Buck nodded. "I wouldn't put it past them." He regarded the Judge. "You tied Chris' hands, Judge and he'll abide by you out of respect, but now you gotta recognize the consequences. Those men in there are gonna try every dirty trick to goad Chris into fighting. It's going to get real ugly from here on out--for everyone. Somebody innocent might get hurt."

The Judge understood but that didn't change the facts. "We have to abide by the law, Mr. Wilmington. It's what will eventually bring order to the west." He frowned. He almost told Buck the other reason for stopping the fight but refrained.

"Yeah, well let's just hope no one gets hurt while we're waiting," Buck responded. "Watch yourself, Judge," he warned walking away with Nathan to collect Mary.

"Chris ain't happy, is he?" Nathan asked the other man who immediately answered in the negative. "What we gonna do?"

"We're gonna play by the rules for a change," Buck said, "and heaven help us all."

+ + + + + + +

Chris headed for his room at the boarding house. He needed some time to clear his head of the anger. He shouldn't have hit Buck and he felt bad for doing it but the last thing he needed right now was to face up to problems he just didn't have time to deal with. The only concern right now was Mathias and the others. Everything else had to wait. If Buck wanted to believe they were related then that was his problem.

He laid back down on his bed, boots and all. Resting his head against the backboard he tried to relax, slow his breathing and collect his thoughts. But it was difficult. He kept seeing Mary's horrified face. The shock and dismay there struck deep into Chris.

But maybe it was better this way. It was time she faced up to the fact of who he really was. It was time to stop hiding his temper and his past from her. Maybe the truth would deter her from trying to constantly approach him. They were from two different worlds and nothing would ever change that fact.

He rubbed the knot of tension at his temples, cursing the constraints in his life. This was the trouble with the civilized nature of a town. There were suddenly more regulations than just those morals he alone held. Now he had to obey a variety of others that placed himself and the lives of others in mortal jeopardy and there was little he could do to protect them short of breaking those rules.

He felt something jump onto the end of the bed and he started. There staring at him was the white cat, indecision tearing at it as it's ears flicked forward and then flat again. But it was cold and hungry. It meowed piteously.

"Sweet Jesus," Chris moaned. He was about to kick the blasted thing off the bed and out the door when the creature rubbed up against his boot purring to beat the band. He had never seen a creature with such tenacity before. No matter how many times Chris pushed it aside with his brusqueness and anger, it kept returning to try again to garner some companionship, a kind word, a meal.

Chris sighed as the cat walked up closer to Chris. Padding gently, ever cautious, it eased itself onto Chris' abdomen. Its weight was barely noticeable, still looking remarkably thin. Recognizing that it had moved close enough, it lay down along Chris' chest, its purring resonating within the gunslinger through the thin shirt he wore.

Shaking his head slightly, he stared at the cat. It's eyes narrowed to half slits and the cat relaxed with the warmth of the gunslinger's body heat. Unconscious of the motion until his hand reached the silky fur, Chris stroked the cat. The purring intensified, if that were possible.

Chris found the repeated motion relaxing and he continued it as if he were grooming his horse with slow easy caresses. He concentrated solely on what he was doing and soon he felt more in control of his emotions. The slightest of grins tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He turned his head to look out the window. Mathias was not going to leave without fighting. That was perfectly clear. Mathias and his family had a grudge against him for some reason, which at this point almost didn't matter. Chris had become accustomed to strangers emerging from his past. Most of them relatives of men he had killed in gunfights--like the Lawless brothers. Then there were those like Cletus Fowler who remained a mystery--though Chris swore not for much longer.

A past such as his would forever play a part in his life, which was another reason he had to push Mary away. She didn't deserve that kind of terror coming out of the night to disrupt her life. One day she or Billy could pay the price with their lives. Sarah and Adam had. Chris truly believed that now. Fowler was hired by someone from Chris' gunslinging days. There had just been so many bodies over the years he couldn't remember them all anymore.

He was tired of watching his back. This was the reason Chris continually moved from one town to the next. It was harder for these vengeful adversaries to find him. But now Chris had been sedentary for far too long. Incidents like this one with Mathias were only going to become more frequent. It was time to leave. Even Buck had seen the signs building in Chris.

Chris grimaced wryly. Poor Buck, always stepping in to try and talk sense to him. He usually did but it always ended with the two of them in an argument or a brawl. Hell, it had always been that way between them. Though it never seemed to discourage the lanky scoundrel and for that, Chris almost had to admire his pigheadedness. Did their friendship mean so much to Buck that he was willing to constantly sport black eyes and bruises for it?

Chris would consider leaving but only after Mathias was taken care of and not before. He'd abide by the Judge's rules and he wouldn't fight unless Mathias started it first. As long as Mary was gone and the rest of them watched their backs maybe the intrusive group would just get bored and leave. Chris snorted at the unlikeliness of that, startling the cat. Chris rubbed its cheek with deep massaging fingers and the feline fell back to sleep.

He thoughts returned to Mathias. Even if the big brawler didn't leave, Mathias didn't have the patience to wait a man out. Chris had seen the eagerness to fight rooted well inside the man's eyes. It wouldn't take the man long before he let loose and started the fight himself which suited Chris just fine. Though how the hell he was gonna take the man down was still a mystery. Mathias was going to be a dangerous man to fight bare?handed.

Chris' stomach growled and he realized it had been too long since he had eaten anything. A moment later, the cat's stomach grumbled too and Chris chuckled. He eased himself up and the cat quickly leapt to the floor and moved to the window. Grabbing his hat, Chris reached for the door. "Come on, you can use the door for a change. Let's go get something to eat from Mrs. Springhill."

+ + + + + + +

The saloon had emptied out after the possibility of a ruckus dissipated. The main patrons now were the eight strangers crowded around a table at the head of which was the hulking form of Mathias. They had been there since noon. Seth reticently delivered another round of drinks they had ordered and retreated behind the bar.

Doody was frustrated. He wanted to see Larabee taken down by Mathias. His jaw still ached abominably. "What the hell are we gonna do now?"

"Not much we can do," Jimmy gripped. "Larabee ain't gonna fight."

Mathias chuckled and drained his beer in one gulp. "Cuz, give up too easily. Now the fun begins. We're going to make him fight."

"How's that?" Doody asked.

It was Blackburn who answered. "By striking at the people he cares about."

"That's right," Mathias said. "You've been here long enough. Who is it that Larabee has feelings for?"

Jimmy leered. "Heard that Larabee has some sort of relationship with the widow woman who runs the newspaper."

"Perfect. She'll make a wonderful message," Mathias murmured.

Blackburn shook his head. "She's gone."

Doody looked shocked. "What?"

"Larabee must gotten her out of town already. Can't find anyone who even knows where she went. Seems like the doctor of this town went with her. Could've gone anywhere."

"Larabee's no fool that's for sure," Mathias growled. "Alright who else?"

"How about that young kid?" Jimmy suggested. "He's pretty naive. Hell, he's been striding up and down the street like he owns the place. He's also one of Larabee's men."

"Just as good," Mathias stated. He was starting to feel better already. "Start with him. Hire some drifters so there's nothing to tie back to us. If we're wrong and Larabee doesn't care about the kid we'll still have had a bit of fun. And if we're right," Mathias' smile widened, "all the better. Larabee will come for my blood??only to find his own."

+ + + + + + +

JD walked down the sidewalk, the barrel of the shotgun resting on his shoulder. He carefully scrutinized each dark alley as he approached but saw nothing suspicious. It was almost midnight and still Four Corners was quiet.

After today's dust up at the saloon, JD had figured the town would bust wide open anytime. He was almost disappointed that nothing had happened. It wasn't that he wanted trouble but he also knew that it was coming. And in big way too.

He had never seen a man as big as Mathias. Josiah was the biggest man JD had known. It had been a shock to find someone even larger than the preacher in this world.

And Chris was supposed to fight this guy? It didn't seem possible. Mathias looked like he could snap Chris in two.

A sound caught his attention and he saw a shadow move across the street near the end of town. JD slipped in between the buildings and watched carefully. Someone was in the alley up ahead. The smoke from the dying street fires continually obscured his vision so he couldn't tell if he was mistaken or not.

The hand that closed suddenly on his shoulder from behind nearly made him jump out of his skin. Another hand quickly clamped over his mouth preventing any sound from issuing forth.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice demanded.

JD sagged against the wall. He pulled the hand away roughly. "Buck! You scared me to death!"

The scoundrel just grinned at him. "What are you doin' on this side of the street? Usually you're patrolling the other side this time of night?"

JD rolled his eyes. "Didn't you tell me not to keep to the same route time after time? Well, I listened!"

"Why are you hiding in this alley."

"Because I thought I saw someone in the shadows over there," JD retorted.

Buck peered around the corner but couldn't make out anything. "You sure?"

JD sighed with exasperation. "Of course, I'm sure."

"I believe you, kid. Let's go find out who it is." He clapped the Sheriff on the back. Secretly he was proud of the kid. He was slowly shaping up to be fine man. He still had a lot to learn of course, but under Buck's steady tutelage the boy had at least a chance. He would never admit it to JD in his lifetime but Buck saw great potential under that boyish exterior.

Circling around the outer end of the town, they came from behind. Within moments they crouched down on the opposite end watching the three men waiting impatiently near the street.

Buck didn't recognize them as part as Blackburn's gang but the implications were clear enough. "They were waiting for you." Buck's voice was low but held the cold anger surging up from his gut at Blackburn's underhanded tactics. It was obvious they were waiting to rough up JD. Only JD was late since he had changed his route. If the kid hadn't, these men would now have the kid in their hands to be held as a tool against Chris.

JD realized the same exact thing. "If I hadn't listened to you..." His voice trailed off.

Buck shrugged. "We got the upper hand, JD. What say we take these yahoos down?"

JD gripped his shotgun tighter. "Let's do it."

+ + + + + + +

The dirty drifter took another swig from his flask and glanced up and down the street once more before pulling back into the shadows. "Where the hell is he?" They had been sitting here for nearly an hour and the kid they were gonna hit was a no show.

A man with too much weight around his belly yanked the flask away from the first guy. He was damn cold sitting out here in the elements. "That man said the kid always comes this way at midnight."

"He probably had to take a leak," the third man offered.

The heavy set fellow glared at him. "He's not the only one. I'm ready to go look for him." He rose to his feet.

"You won't have to go very far," JD offered stepping into view. Buck emerged from behind him.

The group of men swung behind them to find two guns pointed at them, both weapons capable of scattering enough lead in the small area to take them all down. The men slowly raised their hands.

Buck motioned with his short barreled gun. "Drop 'em boys. Right now."

The three men dropped their assorted weaponry that included a club and a knife. It only infuriated Buck more. The minute they were disarmed, he stepped up and shoved them into the street. "Move it!"

Soon they were locked up in the jail cells. JD tossed the keys on the nail. He looked almost smug as he sat down at his desk.

"What's the matter with you?" Buck asked. "Don't you realize that you could have very well been beaten to a pulp tonight?"

JD grinned wider. "Yeah, but it was gonna take three of them to do it. I take that as a compliment."

Throwing his arms up in the air in disgust, Buck stormed out of the office. "Leave it to you to find the silver lining in all this. I'm going to find Chris."

+ + + + + + +

"They failed," Jimmy said as he slipped inside Blackburn's room at the hotel. Mathias was there too. Blackburn shook his head. "God damn it!"

"They've been arrested too," he added.

Blackburn's language only got worse. "Why the hell can't anything go right?!"

Mathias quieted them both. "It won't be traced back to us." He glanced up a Hobson. "Will it?"

Jimmy swallowed nervously and answered no.

"Well then we still have work to do. I'm not leaving without Larabee's blood on my hands."

"But what can we do? Travis and Larabee are on their guard and I'm not willing to mess with Larabee's other friends," Blackburn whined.

Mathias ran two huge fingers down over his chin, thinking. "Right now, we haven't done anything to be arrested for, that they know about anyway. And we don't want to bring the law's attention down on us anymore than we have. We need something that the law just isn't gonna care about. Is there anything in town that Larabee cares about that we wouldn't get more than a slap on the wrist for messing with?"

Blackburn snapped his fingers. "I have an idea." The others looked towards him. The man grinned widely with sheer pleasure at his thought. "I know exactly what we could use."

+ + + + + + +

The next morning Chris was up early. Sleep had been elusive and lying in bed seemed like a waste of time. He was on edge knowing what was building in the interim. The Judge believed that it would blow over but Chris knew better. These men in town were here for a reason and they wouldn't leave before it was done. Eventually Chris would have to fight. It just would have been better to pick his moment; the odds would be more in his favor but Judge Travis was making that difficult.

Chris didn't blame him for that. He was a lawman??a good one, and he had to abide by the laws he swore to otherwise he would be no better than those he fought against. It was why Chris had never been a lawman himself like Buck. Chris knew that there would come a time when the law just couldn't win and it was those times that other methods had to be used. The Judge knew that which was why he had probably hired the seven in the first place. It was unfortunate that the Judge just didn't see this as one of those times.

Chris eyes caught movement ahead of him, a large, dark shadow emerging out in the street. It was a simple guess as to the owner. Chris stopped abruptly suddenly wary. Mathias stepped into the morning's light quickly flanked by Blackburn and his brother.

It was time.

With eyes that held no fear, only acceptance and ire, Chris took in the men before him. "You want something?" he asked icily already knowing the answer. The men wanted blood.

Mathias took a step forward, his boots thunking down hard on the boards. "You know exactly what it is I want."

Chris exhaled a breath that belayed weariness though his every muscle was tight with anticipation of a fight. He gestured wide with his hands. "I'm right here."

Mathias glanced around. "Where's the man holding your leash today?"

The muscles in Chris' jaw twitched. "Getting coffee. If you want to start something, you don't have much time."

Mathias' lips curled back. "I won't be the one to start anything, Larabee."

There was a shot behind Chris and then came a sound like the wail of a child and then silence. He spun around, gun drawn only to see the small, white cat lying in the street. Its fur was awash with blood. Chris' stomach dropped out beneath him and this throat constricted with raw fury. It was an innocent animal they shot. It had nothing to do with this.

He turned on the guy who was holstering his smoking pistol. It was Doody.

"Damn stray was a public nuisance," he pointed out coldly to Chris.

Chris' index finger tightened on the trigger of his gun but it didn't fully constrict. Only the logical voice screaming in his head held it back and kept Doody alive. Chris' breathing was sharp and strained as he struggled for control.

This was what they wanted, he told himself. They had chosen to pick on something with no rights in the eyes of the law. If Chris shot Doody for killing the cat, it would be Chris who'd they hang. Doody would only get a fine--if that. Nobody cared about a mangy stray cat.

Chris relaxed his hand and let his gun swing down around his finger. Grabbing the barrel in a steely grip, he slammed the butt of the weapon across Doody's skull. He went down bonelessly.

There was a muted squeal behind him and Chris turned to see Mathias pick up the cat by the neck. It struggled weakly in the big hands.

It was still alive!

The fire that had been smoldering in Chris flared to a new level of hatred. "Put it down," he ordered harshly, the barrel of his gun spinning back up to point at the big man.

"Or what? You gonna shoot me?" Mathias laughed and shook the cat. With a strangled gasp it went limp. "Well, do it Larabee! You'll hang just like you hanged my cousin!"

Chris' eyes narrowed. "I never hung anyone." He had shot a number of people but never hanged one. Though he was beginning to change his mind on the matter.

"Oh, you hanged him alright. Just like I did to this cat," Mathias' huge hand slipped tighter around the cat's slim neck and that's when Chris moved.

Throwing caution to the wind, he plunged forward and rammed his shoulder into the big man's chest. So fast did Chris move that Mathias could do little more than cry out in surprise. They went down in a tumble of dust. The distant thud of a small body against the dirt told Chris the cat was free.

Unfortunately, that meant Mathias could use both his hands. Chris tried to roll quickly off him away from the strength he knew resided in the man's arms, but he wasn't quick enough. A meaty fist drove into the nape of Chris' neck and his vision receded for a moment, a burst of pain firing along his nerves as his face slammed into the ground, a film of dust covering his lips.

It was all Mathias needed. He lumbered to his feet to the victorious cries of his men, dragging Chris up with him. "Finally," the big man mumbled. "Now you're mine."

Chris struggled to shake off the darkness and get his feet beneath him, but not before Mathias whirled around with an explosion of muscle, Chris still in his grasp. The gunfighter impacted on the wall of the nearest building. His right shoulder and arm erupted in agony. Ignoring the pain, he stumbled to his feet and shambled wildly to avoid Mathias' next bone crushing blow.

Chris felt the wind of it as it passed over him. He also heard the splintering of the wooden planks on the wall. Spinning on his heel, Chris locked both his hands together and brought them down onto Mathias' unprotected back. The behemoth shuddered and fell to his hands and knees.

The pain in Chris' neck and shoulder made just breathing a weighty chore. The sheer impact of the last blow had rattled his bones to the core. Shrugging off the pain, he stepped back, balanced as best he could and brought a booted foot into Mathias' midsection. The man fell over with a grunt of pain. Chris stumbled back and fell to his own knees, his breathing sharp and labored.

Vin and Josiah, arriving after a long night's ride, drove their exhausted mounts into the center of town. The huge gathering of people outside laid testament to the fact that they were too late. The fight had already begun. Leaping off his horse as it slid to a halt, Vin spotted JD and Buck in the crowd and pushed his way towards them. Buck spotted him but didn't move from concentrating on Zeke Blackburn only two steps away.

Vin ran up and got his first look at Chris and Mathias. Both men looked battered but blood was streaming from a cut above Chris' eye giving him a wild look. It looked to Vin that Mathias had the upper hand.

Blackburn noticed Vin's approach and sneered at the bounty hunter. "You arrived just in time. Larabee's getting what any murdering dog deserves."

Vin's fist grabbed the heavy man by his shirt and with a single yank brought him closer. His voice was low and guttural. "Bob Spikes was a murderer. He's the one who challenged Chris. He's the one who hung an innocent man. Your cousin deserved what he got."

"Cousin?" Buck exclaimed staring at Blackburn with sudden comprehension. "You mean you were related to that ugly SOB with no hair and the sissy hat?"

Blackburn's fury rose swiftly to the forefront. He pulled his deadly knife with a quick jerk but Buck was waiting for it. The cold steel of his pistol connected solidly against the man's head and he slumped in Vin's arms. The bounty hunter didn't let the man linger long there and dropped him soundly into the dirt at his feet. Quickly disarming him, he rose to stare once more at the bloody battle going on in the center.

Both Chris and Mathias were trying to gain their feet. Surprisingly, out of sheer desperation, Chris made it first. He stood shakily and readied himself. He had to be quick and keep Mathias off balance. Chris almost laughed at the thought. The gunslinger was barely standing on his own as it was. He needed to disable the man and do it fast. But how?

The minute Mathias' chin lifted, Chris swung a fast left jab into the man's jaw. Mathias' head snapped around. Despite the pain, Chris planted a right blow on the man's temple. Mathias dropped but the white hot pain that lanced up Chris' arm made him cry out as well, forcing him to cradle the aching limb to his chest.

Josiah too watched helplessly on the sidelines unsure of what he should do. Chris was hurt but not down. Where the man got the strength from Josiah could only guess. He noticed Judge Travis watching also, his face full of anguish and yet there was still room for exhilaration. The old man had a shotgun loaded and ready to discharge but he didn't. Instead he too stood rooted to the ground caught in the vicious drama being played out before them.

A wagon was rolling into town and Josiah spotted Nathan at the reins. As soon as the wagon came to a halt, Mary Travis and another woman disembarked. Mary ran immediately forward with Nathan, coming quickly to the realization what was transpiring in the street. Nathan paused at Josiah's side while Mary ran on, her eyes wide with fear. Reaching her father-in-law she stopped as if poleaxed at the sight of Chris, wounded and fighting for his life.

Mathias, shaking himself like a grizzly, rose off the ground. He plunged at the man in black, fists smashing and the gunslinger let him come, slipping under the flailing arms to land a power blow of his own on Mathias. It crushed his lips. Chris' fist darted out again but this time it merely glanced off, his strength faltering. He stumbled a step beyond the big man.

Mathias took advantage of the off balance gunfighter and landed a horrifying blow onto Chris' ribs. The distinct snapping of bones indicated the damage done.

Chris fell into the dirt, a cloud of dust rising beneath him, his breath going with it. He struggled to stand and only got a boot in his face for the effort. The world went black for a moment again and when his vision returned he found himself in the grip of the huge man. The huge arms were wrapped around his chest and breathing was no longer a possibility. Chris groaned with the agony that spread across his broken ribs.

He didn't have much time. There was such a roar in his ears that he couldn't be sure but he thought he heard his name being shouted as well as a distant shotgun blast. His numbing mind tried desperately to find a way out of the bear hold. Then he knew. He had to immobilize Mathias so he would have the advantage. Agility could only stand against brute strength if one was very, very clever.

Lifting his knee, he kicked back, driving his spur deep in the knee of Mathias. The scream that came with it almost brought a smile to Chris' lips except that he was too busy trying to breath and stay conscious.

Mathias bellowed in agony and dropped Chris to clutch his lacerated leg. Slumping to the ground, Chris rolled to the side, sucking in great lungfuls of sweet air. A hand pulled him upright and through an eye that was already swelling shut, he saw a shape. Thinking it was one of Blackburn's men, he pulled back a bloody fist until he heard the voice that went with it.

"Chris! Chris, it's me Vin!"

Relieved, Chris sagged momentarily against him. "Vin," he gasped out, specks of blood falling from his lips to dot the bounty hunter's coat.

"Chris, listen to me. This is Bob Spikes' cousin."

"What?" Chris stammered in shocked recognition of the name.

"They're here to kill you, Chris."

A rush of new fury filled Chris and he straightened off the bounty hunter. Now things made perfect sense. The reunion ; the hanging reference; the bad breath. It was all just a matter of revenge.

Chris limped over to the huge man on the ground. Mathias' hand was pressed into the leg wound, stemming the flow of blood but he looked up at the approaching gunslinger. Chris vaguely realized that the rest of the Seven were in the crowd making sure that Mathias' remaining family didn't interfere.

Mathias looked up with angry eyes. He held out a blood soaked hand. "This was supposed to be your blood," he murmured.

Chris stared down at him. The gunfighter was straight and deadly and utterly still yet every line of him was alive and eager. "Bob Spikes was hung for killing a man," he told Mathias. "He deserved the sentence he got."

But Mathias wasn't listening. "...your blood," he mumbled again. He looked up in a murderous rage. "You're the man responsible," he spat lurching to his feet but his leg could barely hold him. He swung a meaty fist at the gunslinger.

Lame as he was Mathias still had size and brawn but Chris still had a steely gunfighter's swiftness. He slipped under the blow and brought his hand up, open and with the heel of it caught Mathias full in the face, snapping his head back. Then another strike forced the man's head to the side. They were short and quick, flicking in so fast they were just a blur of movement.

Mathias' big frame shuddered and he hesitated in his rush for a moment before the momentum carried him past Chris to fall to the ground, thudding to his knees and crying out in agony. "Noooo!" he screamed as he struggled to get to his feet.

Chris, blood dripping into his eye, brushed at it in distraction and prayed the man would stay down. Chris' strength was rapidly running out. There wasn't much left but he had to stay upright until Mathias was down for the count.

Mathias strained one more time to rise but there was fear suddenly in his eyes. Chris took one step towards him and using his left fist like a club now and lining his whole body behind it, struck Mathias on the neck below and behind the ear. It made a sickening dull sound and Mathias' eyes rolled white and then slumped into the dirt with a groan and did not move.

The sudden relief of victory swept through Chris and he staggered only to find a hand at his left elbow supporting him. With muscles in his neck that felt like rubber, he forced himself to look over. It was Buck.

"You crazy bastard," his friend said with wide grin. "The Judge is gonna have your head."

Chris frowned and it was then that he looked past Buck's shoulder to see Judge Travis standing with a terrified Mary. Her eyes were wide and glistening as she clutched her father-in-law's arm, an expression of absolute horror on her face.

It was over and the sudden hush that followed Mathias' fall seemed to last for an eternity. Mary's breathing seemed so loud that she swore everyone could hear her. Chris' eyes had found her and she could tell that it hurt him to see her standing there, a witness to the terrible brutality of the fight. Chris was standing, bloodied and battered. But he had won! She could see the fire was still burning in him but it was slowly subsiding. Something in Mary was at once thrilled and frightened. Thrilled to know he was alive and victorious yet frightened at how close he had come to death once again.

The wave of pain that washed over Chris suddenly was not a physical one. Mary should never have seen this. What the hell was she doing back so early? His attention shifted to the Judge and Chris saw the disappointment in the older man's countenance. It was more than the gunslinger could bear. Before the Judge could say a word, Chris forcefully shoved himself off Buck, eyes blazing refusal, and limped in the direction of the jail.

"Where ya going?" Buck called after him. "You can hardly walk." He chased after the lurching gunslinger but knew Chris wouldn't accept his help. Instead he just doggedly followed him.

Chris entered the jail and staggered straight into the nearest cell and slumped down onto the cot as every bone and muscle in his battered body protested.

"What are you doing?" Buck exclaimed standing in the cell's door.

"Leave me alone, Buck." Chris spat out some blood on the floor from his busted lip.

"Aw, Chris. The Judge ain't gonna fault you for this one. Not after Vin tells him who Mathias is. Come on, let's get you to Nathan's." He reached for the gunslinger but one look from the man's cold, angry eyes and he stayed his hand mere inches away from touching him.

When Buck had finally eased back, Chris made a final request. "Bury the cat."

Buck stood there stunned watching as the impassive gunslinger shut his eyes--not that he had much choice about the left one anyway--it was swelling up to be a right nice sized lump. Buck knew Chris had felt something for that cat, he just didn't realize how much it had grown on the gunslinger till now. Chris had taken such care in making sure everyone he cared about was protected except for that damn cat and now Chris was going to blame himself for it's death. He was gonna blame himself for letting the Judge down too. It was just so typical of Chris. Take responsibility for everyone and forget about the fact that most people can take care of themselves. Buck was about to tell him how foolish he was being when he heard someone come in the jail.

It was JD. Buck sighed and gestured to Chris. "Watch him. I have something to do."

+ + + + + + +

Chris must have fallen asleep or passed out, not that it mattered which. He opened a bleary eye to the sound of voices in the outer office. It was night and the only light that blazed dully in the distance was the lamp on JD's desk. He was surprised to see that the door to his cell was still opened. He drew himself carefully up on his left elbow, blowing harshly through the waves of pain that erupted at the movement, but when it quieted he took a look around with his good eye. A stained compress fell off his face and onto the cot. He realized with a start that his head was bandaged and his ribs were strapped tight. He could feel the pull from the stitches above his left eye.

How long had he been out?

He glanced over at the other cells to see Mathias and the rest of the gang sacked out. Mathias' various wounds were bandaged as well.

Judge Travis emerged from the shadows to stand in Chris' cell. There was a slight trace of a smile on the man's lips, which quickly faded. "You're awake finally. Your fine has been paid. You can go." He turned away and walked back out heading for the main door. "Good night, JD," he offered before closing the door.

"Night Judge," came the return.

JD came into Chris' field of vision smiling that infuriating smile that belayed his extreme innocence and reckless enthusiasm. "You look like hell, Chris," he stated bluntly.

Chris just scowled. "Who paid the fine?" he demanded. JD shrugged. He reached for Chris and eased a steadying arm around Chris' shoulder. Chris came shakily to his feet and gestured to the other cells. "What are they all in here for?"

JD grinned even wider. "For robbin' the stage. Nathan came back with a witness. Ain't that funny how the wheel turns."

"Nathan wasn't supposed to come back for three days," Chris grumbled his thoughts immediately returning to the expression that had filled Mary's face after the fight. Though he supposed it was better this way. She would now scorn him for fighting in the street like the thug he knew himself to be. She knew the truth. Maybe now she would leave him alone.

"Well, it's a good thing he did, Chris. You certainly needed some doctorin'. And so did...."

Chris cut him off. "Nathan should have let Mathias bleed to death."

JD chuckled. "You're feelin' better. Come on, let's get you to your room. It'll be a hell of lot more comfortable than these cots."

+ + + + + + +

The bright light of morning stabbed into Chris' exposed face and he moaned turning away from its glare only to be stopped at the unexpected aches in every joint. He blew out a slow exhale and cautiously began to test things.

Nothing seemed beyond repair. His hands were bruised and stiff and he had a headache that engulfed his whole skull. Sitting up gingerly, he massaged his right shoulder. It was tender but it didn't seem to be broken. Thankful for small things he meticulously reached for the glass of water someone had set by his bedside.

His dry throat saturated, he eased back against the headboard, pulling his head out of the reach of the stabbing rays of the sun. He couldn't believe it was morning already. It seemed like he had just woken up the other day. It was disturbing that he had lost so much time.

He gazed down the end of the bed where the cat usually slept and had to quickly clamp down on the wrench that twisted his stomach. Drawing his cold feet deeper under the blankets, he shook off his melancholy. He was probably just hungry. He debated whether it was worth the effort to get out of the bed but the last thing he wanted was to talk to anyone, least of all the Judge or Mary.

The wrench came again with the thought of the young widow, a woman so full of tenacity and yet so fragile. He had tried to keep his promise to her, but there were some things that had to be faced with violence. It didn't mean he liked it nor wanted it but there were times it just couldn't be avoided. Besides Chris had never backed away from a fight in his life. Obviously Mary found that to be a fault not a strength. For the first time in a long while that bothered him.

There was a knock on the door and inwardly Chris groaned. The door opened a crack and Nathan peered in. Upon seeing Chris alert he came in all the way. "Good, you're awake." He pulled the lone chair in the room closer to the bed and sat down scrutinizing Chris carefully. "The swelling's gone down at least." Using gentle fingers he probed the side of Chris' head.

Chris winced anyway. "No permanent damage?"

"Nah, you've got a hard head Chris. Though you tore up some muscle in your shoulder and broke three ribs."

Chris' expression was grim and determined. "I'm not staying in this bed." It wasn't that long since he was trapped in his room after Jericho. He damn well didn't want to repeat that event.

Nathan snorted with sympathy. "I guess I can't blame you but just take it easy for a bit will you. You've had a rough couple of months."

There was a muffled sound outside the door and the two men turned towards it.

"Oh I forgot to tell you," Nathan said, a grin spreading over his face. "Buck pulled through."

"Buck?" Chris was confused. "Was he hurt?"

Then a movement at the threshold drew the gunslinger's attention. The small white cat limped into view. Its hind left leg was in a splint and it was swathed in bandages but it was alive. It came over to Nathan and brushed against his leg and meowed piteously.

"But I thought it was...." Chris faltered, his face for just a moment showing a trace of emotion before he quickly masked it again.

Nathan reached down and very carefully lifted the feline onto the bed. It took a step or two and then promptly laid down against Chris and began to purr.

"It's certainly got a will to live. Not to mention it's as stubborn as hell. Didn't want stay in my room so I brought it here." The man's brilliant white teeth flashed with amusement. "Obviously this is where it wanted to be."

Chris fought his own smile and then let it show for just a moment. He reached out his hand and stroked the side of the cat's head. "Buck always was a little obstinate."

"Like some others I know," Nathan added.

"So who's the witness you found?"

"A woman. She was riding on the stage when it got robbed. They stole her brooch. While you were busy distracting Mathias and the others, JD and Josiah checked their rooms and found the brooch along with a good portion of the other valuables and a hell of a lot of cash. Her name is Mrs. Millsaps and she was on her way home to her son who..."

Buck burst in through the door. "Well, howdy pard. How ya feelin'?"

Chris scowled and nodded a greeting at his old friend wishing Buck would lower his voice. The noise practically reverberated within his skull.

"Well, you sure do look a hell of a lot better. Don't he, Nathan?"

Nathan agreed and rose to his feet. "I'm gonna get going now. Check on some of my other patients. Mathias is damn lucky he still has leg to stand on."

Chris caught Nathan's attention before he left. "Who was it that paid my fine?"

The healer exchanged a glance with Buck and then shrugged. "Don't rightly know." He noticed Chris' growing ire and quickly retreated out the door. "I'll check on you a bit later," he called back over his shoulder.

Chris glanced up at Buck who held up his hands in defense. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm still in the hole to Vin after that poker game." He straddled the chair the doctor had vacated.

Chris sighed and settled back. It must have been Vin, he decided. He'd pay him back as soon as he could reach his pants.

Buck slouched over the bed and started petting the cat now that it couldn't get away from him. "So how's little Buck doin'? Hey there, kitty." The cat tolerated his ministrations and then curled up to sleep. Buck's smile faded a bit and he turned his head to regard Chris. "You know you should have waited for us to back you up the other day."

Here it comes , Chris thought. Buck always seemed to think that Chris didn't realize he had done something foolish. As if Chris wasn't perfectly aware of his actions at any given moment. As if Chris didn't know what drove him to perform such stupid acts of recklessness. He sighed. He wasn't in the mood to hear it right now but neither was he in the mood to fight with Buck. The trouble with being laid up was that he couldn't up and walk away from one of Buck's lectures.

"Mathias didn't give me much of a choice," Chris pointed out.

Buck returned to skritching the cat's head. "No, I reckon he didn't." He sighed and let the lecture go. From the look on Chris' face, he figured this wasn't the right time to deal with it. He changed the subject. "Did Nathan tell you he found the cat's owner?"

Chris' head snapped back as if slapped. "What?"

Buck quickly realized his blunder. He had assumed Nathan had told Chris about the boy when he had brought the cat up to the room. Apparently he was wrong. Chris looked away abruptly.

"Sorry, Chris. I thought you knew."

The gunslinger's voice was rock steady but curt. "Nathan found him in Barton's Ridge?" Chris asked.

Buck shifted nervously. "Yeah. Those signs you made up worked real good. The kid showed up within the first hour. His mamma is gonna bring him here in a day or so to fetch the kitty."

Chris nodded curtly, his throat suddenly tight. "Good. It's been a nuisance anyway."

Buck sighed at the swift change he had wrought in his friend. "Yeah, it's certainly been that," he intoned solely for Chris' benefit not that it was the truth. He stood and put the chair back into place. The two men said nothing more as Buck took his leave.

+ + + + + + +

Two days later, Chris was outside in his usual spot, soaking in the feeble heat of the winter sun. Bundled in his wool coat and with the cat sprawled across his lap dozing peacefully, he watched the goings on in the town. There was plenty of bustle but nothing suspicious. However, the activity kept Chris occupied observing folks performing their daily rituals in relative placidity.

The cat stretched and yawned, reaching out lazily for Chris' hand, which had paused in it's stroking. Unconsciously, Chris automatically began his petting again at the cat's gentle request. He felt the boards shiver subtlety beneath his feet and turned to notice Vin approaching.

"Join ya?" the bounty hunter inquired. Chris indicated a barrel standing to his left with a nod of his head. Settling himself, Vin watched the cat and the grim gunfighter for a moment and smiled at the odd sight. He glanced away. "How's the ribs?"

"Okay," Chris answered. The gunslinger looked uncomfortable for a moment. He regarded Vin. "I wanted to thank you for paying the fine."

Vin looked puzzled. "What fine?"

Chris quickly echoed the look. "The one to get me out of the jail." Chris reached into the pocket of his coat. "I have the money here to pay you back."

Vin shook his head. "Weren't me. I reckon it was one of the others."

"It wasn't. I checked. You were the last."

Pursing his lips and fighting the trace of amusement there, the bounty hunter sat back, balancing himself against the wall. "Looks like you got another mystery on your hands then."

Chris scowled and shoved the money back where it came from. That only left two other people who could have done it, both of which made Chris' stomach ache with the thought.

Vin continued. "In regards to your last one, Mathias and his gang should be halfway to Yuma prison by now." He toed the boardwalk with the end of his boot. "You think that's all of them? Or does Bob Spikes have anymore kin we should keep an eye out for?"

"Can't say but I've found folks like that breed like rabbits," Chris commented dryly.

Chris spied Buck, Mary and Nathan across the street toting a young boy about Billy's age. Within moments they came his way. Chris stiffened, knowing immediately what it meant. He pulled his hand away from the cat.

Stepping up on the sidewalk, Nathan, his hand on the young boy's shoulder, gestured to Chris with his other. "This here is the man who's been takin' care of your cat, Jason. Chris this is Jason."

Chris nodded at the boy. Jason's eyes were filled with joyous tears at the sight of the little cat which only made Chris wince.

"You found her," the boy said. "I thought she was gone."

"Well, she's a little worse for wear," Nathan soothed, "but she's gonna be just fine."

Chris picked up the cat carefully, his broad hands supporting the injured limb and letting his fingers slip through the cat's silky fur one last time. Almost reluctantly, he handed the cat to the boy.

"What's the cat's name, Jason?" Buck asked bending down to the boy's level.

"Snowflake," the boy said happily as he hugged the cat to his chest. The cat seemed perfectly relaxed in Jason's embrace, contesting to the fact that he was the cat's owner.

Everyone except Chris chuckled at the rather darling name for the cat. Buck clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his threatening outburst. Finally he couldn't control himself. "Chris and Snowflake," he howled, "now there's a sweet couple."

Chris cast an irate glare upon the scoundrel and then sighed in resignation. He wasn't going to live this one down for along time.

The boy sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and busily went about reacquainting himself with his pet. Chris watched them. As much as a part of him was willing to admit he was going to miss the little furball, he was content in the fact that the young boy was genuinely happy to have Little Buck... Snowflake back. He almost allowed a grin.

He raised his eyes to find Mary watching him closely. It was the first time the two of them had said more than a few words to each other since the fight. His face fell quickly back into its stern countenance but surprisingly Mary didn't seem fazed by it. In fact, the look of horror that she had worn that day, the one that seemed forever burned in Chris' mind, was gone, replaced by one of curious infatuation. Suddenly, Chris wasn't sure which one worried him more.

She coughed gently to clear her throat. "I thought what you had Nathan do in Barton's Ridge was terribly nice. I only wish you had asked me to print the posters up for you. You had only to ask of course."

Chris shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, I didn't see the need for it. It was just as easy to write them up myself."

Mary's mouth twisted with a twinge of annoyance. "I see," she said with an air of disappointment. Biting her lip, she retreated, heading back to her office. Two steps away she paused and then cast her head back over her shoulder to add, "But then maybe it wouldn't have had as many misspelled words." She pointed her chin forward and continued on her way with a slight spring in her step. Chris almost swore he saw her smirk.

Buck gave a small laugh as taken aback as the others at Mary. She seemed to be loosening up much to everyone's astonishment. Finally, he regarded Chris and asked the sole question that continued to plague him. "So have you gotten it out of your system now?"

"What do you mean?" Chris asked.

Buck shrugged innocently. Buck had been friends with Chris long enough to know that whenever Chris couldn't seem to gain a hold on his life, he resorted to alienating everyone around him in order to make it easier to leave. Fist fights and arguments were just natural side effects of the problem.

"He wants to know if the fight's gone out of you," Vin pointed out.

Chris just stared at them for a minute. They had known all along what had been bothering him. Embarrassed, he shrugged. "I guess it has."

"Does that mean you're sticking around?" Nathan asked.

"I don't know. Maybe." He was silent for a second. Then finally, "For now."

The men around him nodded apparently satisfied with that answer. Buck pulled out his pocketwatch, the one that he continued to claim as a family heirloom. He grinned at Chris. "Almost suppertime," he commented.

Chris scowled. Just then as if it had been planned, Mary returned carrying a plate of food draped with a red-checkered cloth. Chris exhaled in frustration. He should have known that this most recent injury of his would only serve to reinforce the widow's maternal instincts.

She stopped in front of him, proud and defiant, practically challenging Chris to refuse.

He obliged her. "Mary, this has gone...."

She whipped the cloth off the plate. It was full of leftovers. With a flourish she laid the plate in front of Snowflake. With a sheer Machiavellian expression she regarded the stunned gunslinger who was rendered speechless.

She patted Jason's head who was watching his cat wolf down the food with relish. "Snowflake needs to fatten up some before her trip. She's been through a lot." She slipped her hand down to stroke Snowflake's spine, which gratefully arched against her hand. Straightening, she glanced impishly at Chris and returned to her errands.

Buck and Chris exchanged a look of amazement. Chris's gaze quickly returned to watch Mary as she strode away down the boardwalk.

"Well, what do you know," Buck commented, crossing his arms, "There are some habits that can be broken." His eyes found the Judge standing quietly in the distance observing them. Buck inclined his head graciously.

With a lifting of the corner of his mouth and a slight twinkle in his blue eye, the older man nodded back content with the fact that all was as it should be and it would remain so for a while longer.

The End