Note: The spelling errors in the poem are intended. Vin, we know, was learning, but I didn't want to mess with it too much so that you wouldn't be able to read it without wrinkling your forehead.

if i'd never seen your face
or never felt your touch,
nor seen your smile
or given you so much.
if i'd never seen your tears
or gave you my hart,
nor ever let us dance
or let there be a start.
if i'd never rode double
or left over the hill,
nor let you know me
or promised you brazil.
you'd still be here on mother earth,
givin', lovin', makin' your worth.
my fault again, it's blood on my hands,
never seemin' to do right, it's not part of the plan.
I go to my grave a tortured man,
unfit to live in the grate spirit's land.

He smoothed out the littered crumpled piece of paper one more time before folding it in half. Looking out over the majestic vista he gave a deep sigh, eased himself upright from his squatting positon and pocketed the note.

The written words had come from grieving over the loss of life. The feelings ran deep, possibly bordering on love, he wasn't for sure, just knew the pain and guilt was something that could eat at a man if he let it. He knew all about that, understood it. The words may have been another man's but they still cut to the quick of his own heart.

Mounting his horse Chris Larabee headed eastward toward home. He'd be there for the man if and when he needed it. It was the least he could do for him. It was, after all, what friends are for.


An end to Charlotte. And I had to make it hard on Vin, after all, she did mean something to him. And all you Tanner fans know he'd take it hard. I had to keep him true to form.

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