More Than a Friend

by P.C.Rasmussen

Author Note: References to Wagon Train and Obsession.

"I'll give anything to hear you say,
that I'm more than a friend."
- Michael Learns To Rock

New Mexico Territory

North of Four Corners the otherwise arid landscape was broken by patches of forest spread out over a rather large and fertile area which was dotted with streams and grassland. Out there, a few independent homesteads broke the rolling landscape in-between the bigger farms.

One such patch of forest had belonged to the late Joshua Stanford, a rich prospector, who had moved out to New Mexico to find gold and raise cattle. After his untimely and somewhat dubious death, the land now belonged to his four sons, better known as the Stanford Brothers. Unlike their father, their reputation was among the worst in the territory, and many who knew the brothers whispered that they were the reason old man Stanford had died so prematurely. The womenfolk said he had died of a broken heart since his sons were both ugly, vicious and borderline stupid. They represented the worst of the Wild West.

The brothers were known to set traps which were akin to torture instruments, trapping any animal unfortunate enough to come across them in the worst way possible. And they were not known to check on those traps very often, which in essence meant that anything caught in the traps would die a painful and prolonged death. They were known to kick stray dogs, and even shoot them if they figured they could get away with it, and they didn't treat people any better. Any woman with sense enough would steer clear of them, and a man who wasn't out looking for trouble would not go anywhere near their land. They held a grudge longer than anyone did, and given the chance, they would hunt down and brutalize those who had done them wrong rather than leave such dealings to the law. As it were, they had never actually killed anyone as far as anyone knew, and they had refrained from doing more than verbally molest women. In that sense, they had nothing to worry about when it came to the law.

North of Four Corners

Vin Tanner had been subjected to the dubious pleasure of crossing paths with the Stanford brothers a few times. Usually he was in the company of others, which had most likely saved him from having to deal with them first hand. He had prevented them from killing or mutilating animals on numerous occasions and knew that they weren't happy about it. As he usually didn't travel alone whenever he got anywhere near their land, he didn't spend too much time worrying about them, since the only thing they seemed to do was send him angry glances. In that respect, it never crossed his mind that he could run into trouble while out hunting on his own.

With Four Corners experiencing a rather quiet time, he figured that he could use that time to hone his tracking skills, and at the same time he was keen on some fresh caught meat as well. So he had set out in the early morning hours to do some hunting without letting anyone know where he was heading. He figured they didn't need to know, and he'd surprise them with whatever he had caught when he got back.

It was still early enough for dew to glisten on leaves and branches as he tracked a deer through a smaller patch of forest, staying low while slowly advancing toward the spot where the deer had stopped to graze. The animal's ears twitched, and its head came up at regular intervals to check the surrounding area, but so far it hadn't caught his scent.

Against his better judgement he kept his eyes on the deer and not on the ground; and when he took another step forward, a step which would put him in the perfect position to get a clean shot at the animal, a metallic click instantly made him lose interest in the deer. Especially since the click was followed by the snap of two steel jaws which slammed together around his ankle. The pain was instant, and he let out a yelp. Losing his balance, he dropped the rifle, which went off and scared the deer away, and he sat down hard on the ground with pain flaring through his leg like wildfire through a dry bush.

Groaning, he grabbed the jaws of the trap and desperately tried to pry them apart, but couldn't muster the strength. The thought that his choice of boots had saved him from having his foot lopped off crossed his mind at that moment. The tough, thick hide the boot was made of had prevented that, but that didn't make it any less painful. Two of the teeth of the steel jaws had cut clean through the tough hide on either side and were slowly digging into his leg, the pressure intensifying gradually while the springs on the trap continuously pressed the jaws together.

"Shit," he moaned, sweat building on his brow as he struggled with the jaws, aware that he should try to get back to his feet to be able to step on the releaser rather than continue his pointless struggle to open the trap with brute force. But he couldn't find the strength to rise while that thing slowly cut its way through his leg.

"Well, look a' what we caught," a voice drawled from somewhere behind him. "He's mighty small for a deer."

Vin leaned his head back and caught sight of one of the Stanford brothers, who grinned a nearly toothless grin at him. He became instantly aware that this ugly and vile contraption was part of their arsenal and that he was, without a doubt, on their land. Two of the other brothers drifted into his line of sight, one looking uglier than the other, all of them grinning.

The first one reached down to grab Vin's shoulders. "Now, you just hold still, boy. We'll get 'cha outta there in a jiffy," he said. The two other brothers busied themselves with opening the trap, not doing much to be careful, but at least they were helping him.

Using a tree for support, Vin got up on his uninjured foot, fighting for balance and trying to ignore the throbbing pain from the wound, while he desperately tried to come up with an explanation of what he was doing on their land. He needed to be able to explain himself in case they asked. "Thanks," he said a little hoarsely, steadying himself against the tree.

The brother who had spoken stared at him, a sudden frown on his brow, halfway hidden by bangs of greasy, stringy hair. "Hey, wait a minute. Don't I know you?" he drawled.

One of the other brothers laughed like a buffoon, nudging his brother's ribs. "This here's the little fella who's aspoilin' our traps, Jed," he snickered.

Vin knew when he was in trouble, and this was one of those times, if Jed's expression was anything to go by. Holding up a hand, he tried to come up with a way for getting back to where Peso was grazing at the edge of the forest. But since his injury was already draining him of necessary strength, and he couldn't very well outrun the brothers when he couldn't even walk, that would just be pretty damned impossible. So he figured he had to find a way to appease them. "Now, hold on, fellas," he said, smiling in the hope that it would keep the brothers calm for long enough. "I ain't spoiled nobody's traps," he tried to defend himself.

"Yup, yup, that's 'im alright," the third brother drawled, grinning with a mouth full of rotting teeth.

It was at that moment Vin remembered that they always traveled in pairs, which meant the fourth brother had to be somewhere in the area as well. But that was as far as he got in his contemplation before the fourth brother hammered the butt of his rifle into the back of his head, knocking him out.

"Well, I reckon we just gotta teach 'im some manners then," the fourth and oldest said, lowering his rifle with a sinister expression on his face.

Four Corners

Two Days Later

Chris Larabee sat outside the saloon, taking in the last of the warmth of one of the first real spring days of the year, the chair tipped back against the wall, his hat pulled down over his eyes. He was sadly aware of the slowness of Four Corners on this particular day, and although he didn't like the stress of the bigger cities much, and wasn't the type to get bored, he was feeling a little antsy this late afternoon.

After awhile of just sitting there, he raised his head a little, peeking out at the street under the rim of his hat. Few people were outside as it was nearing supper time, and the street was more or less deserted. Tipping his hat back a little, he eyed the dusty street for a moment, aware that something was nagging at his subconscious, but not fully comprehending what it was yet. There was something amiss, something not right in Four Corners.

Frowning, he tipped the chair forward, landing it on all of its four legs, and got up. Something was definitely up. Not with the town itself, though. He scanned the street, looking left and right, still trying to get a grasp of why he had this feeling. Counting heads seemed like a good idea if his feeling had something to do with impending trouble in town.

Sudden muffled shouts from inside the saloon made him glance toward the batwing doors, well aware that Ezra was inside, probably relieving some poor fool of his hard-earned money. Buck had gone fishing with J.D., a past-time Chris himself indulged in sometimes when the town got too slow. Josiah was standing on the porch in front of the Clarion, discussing something with Nathan. The frown furrowing his brow deepened. That meant Vin was unaccounted for.

The feeling that something was wrong, something centered around the young tracker, made him look around again. The sun was setting, and he slowly realized that he hadn't seen Vin around for two days. Turning, he pushed the batwing doors to the saloon open and strode inside, heading straight for Ezra, who was indeed in the middle of a poker game and winning as usual.

"Ezra, have you seen Vin around lately?" Chris asked, not even bothering to apologize for interrupting the game.

Ezra glanced up at him and shook his head. "No, Sir, I cannot say that I have. Isn't it likely that he's once again out communin' with Mother Nature?" the gambler replied, returning his gaze to his cards.

"Might be," Chris agreed, but still couldn't shake the feeling that something was up with the tracker. "And then again..." he added and left the saloon to ask Josiah and Nathan the same question.

Ezra turned his head a little and glanced at the door while he considered his options at keeping the game going. Figuring he would be too preoccupied now to keep his concentration on winning, he dealt a final hand and closed the game, collecting the money he had won. "Thank you kindly, Sirs," he said, tipping his hat at the opposition before heading out the door in pursuit of Chris.

+ + + + + + +

Chris stopped next to Josiah and briefly looked out along the street again. "Have either of you seen Vin lately?" he asked nobody in particular.

Nathan and Josiah exchanged glances. "Nope, can't say that I have," Josiah said. "You, Nate?" he asked and the healer shook his head. "Somethin' up?" he wanted to know, turning his attention fully to Chris.

"Don't know," Chris mumbled, still staring along the street. "Got a gut feelin' that somethin's wrong," he added and made a face.

Ezra caught up with them, looking a little flustered. "Did he not go with Buck and J.D. this mornin'?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"Nope," Josiah said, shaking his head with a frown. "I saw Buck and J.D. take off together. Haven't seen Vin anywhere near 'em. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him around for the better part o' two days."

"Are you sure somethin's wrong? He might just 'a gone huntin'," Nathan inquired, giving Chris a thoughtful stare.

"I ain't sure," Chris admitted somewhat reluctantly. "I just realized I haven't seen 'im for a bit, and he usually let's someone know if he leaves town for longer than a day," he added.

"You sure you're not jumpin' at shadows?" Ezra asked with a grin, well aware that that would be one of the last things Chris Larabee would be doing in this life. It earned him a scowl from Chris, too, and he raised his hands in a deprecating gesture. "No pun intended, I assure you. But doesn't young Mr. Tanner have the tendency to isolate himself at times?"

"I reckon he does," Chris agreed, still not satisfied with the explanation. "If he isn't back when it's dark, we have to go look for 'im."

"Pardon my ignorance, but is it not Mr. Tanner who is the tracker in this ensemble? I mean, he does not strike me as a man who loses his way," Ezra said, a little more serious.

"Oh, I'm not worried about that," Chris said darkly. "But there is a bounty on his head, and I'd be mighty upset if someone's decided to cash it in."

Josiah sighed. "Begging your pardon, Chris, but don't you think Vin can take care of himself? He's a big boy, you know," he said seriously, letting Chris know that he agreed with Ezra.

Chris stared at him for a moment, his jaw set. He could see the sense in their words, and knew what Vin would think if he came racing after him like this. Shaking his head, he turned his back on the others and stared back out at the street, cursing his inability to stop the sense of urgency he felt. "Damn," he mumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.

Josiah grabbed his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I know you like the kid, Chris, and I know he isn't easy to understand at times, but Vin's got his own way and his own path. Let him walk it. He'll be back. He always comes back," the preacher said in a quiet, reassuring tone of voice.

With a sigh that spoke volumes, Ezra turned around and headed back to the saloon, hoping against hope that he could engage someone in a friendly game of poker again. Sometimes he just had enough of these worrywarts: Chris when it came to Vin, and Buck when it came to J.D. "Like they cannot look out for themselves," he mumbled under his breath as he pushed the batwing doors apart and stepped back into the cooler interior of the saloon, straightening his lapels and looking around for fair game.

Chris acknowledged Josiah's words with a curt nod, but kept staring out at the street. The seed of worry was planted and it was growing fast, making him feel almost physically sick to his stomach. It was something that had developed after Sarah and Adam had died, a sort of sixth sense aimed at the people closest to him, and that sense was usually right.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan had to check in on a young woman who needed some tending to, and Josiah left Chris standing on the porch to join Ezra in the saloon. He was parched and needed a drink. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that Chris might have a point. He hadn't known Larabee that long, but it had been long enough to know that he had an uncanny ability to know when trouble was coming their way.

Chris remained where he was, thinking hard about what he needed to do. Even though he saw the point to both Josiah's and Ezra's words, it didn't still the alarm bells which had gone off the moment he had realized it had been awhile since he'd seen Vin.

"Chris?"

The sound of Mary's voice right behind him startled him. He hadn't heard her coming outside, and that gave him another nudge to go and look for the tracker. If he was too preoccupied by Vin's absence to pay attention to his surroundings, it didn't bode well. Turning, he faced her.

"Is something the matter?" Mary asked. As she stood there, her hands folded, her eyes worried, she tried to understand this man and her feelings for him which she so desperately tried to bury. It was never easy to guess what Chris Larabee was thinking as most of his emotions never showed on his face, but looking into his eyes gave her an indication that he was worried.

"Maybe," he said, his voice gruff. "I don't know. I aim to find out, though," he said, turned and strode back to the chair he had abandoned to retrieve his jacket. Foolish or not, he was going to set out to find Vin Tanner, and the sooner he got going, the better. He trusted his instincts more than anything these days and would be damned if he would let a friend get hurt because others thought he was being silly.

Mary Travis remained on the porch in front of her newspaper office until Chris mounted his horse and guided it out of town. Then she returned to her work, her mind preoccupied by this development. Somehow she was always afraid that if he rode out alone, he wouldn't come back. It probably went back to the time he had been gone for much longer than usual, and it turned out he'd ended up in a prison somewhere at the hands of some crooked lawmen.

+ + + + + + +

It didn't take Chris long to figure out that his gut feeling had once again been right. No more than half an hour out of town he came across Vin's horse grazing quietly near a brook. The gelding wasn't tied to anything, and the dusty saddle and muddied reins hanging loosely from the bridle gave away that he had been on his own for a while. Chris halted Pony next to Peso, and stared at the black animal for a moment before scanning the area for any sign of the tracker. There were no sounds to be heard apart from those natural to this spot, but he knew Vin was able to move as quietly as anyone he'd ever known.

Rising a little in the saddle, he looked around, trying to spot any movement in the high grasses around him. "VIN?" he called. "TANNER? YOU OUT HERE?"

There was no reply and that didn't sit well with Chris. Glancing back down at Peso, he figured the animal could look after hims for the time being and would eventually return to his stable. At least he didn't have to worry about that.

Determined to find his friend, he urged Pony on, searching the ground for signs until it got too dark for him to see anything properly. He was also painfully aware of his deficient skills as a tracker. Vin could find traces of someone passing by on foot on hard rock. Chris sometimes thought that he couldn't even find a damned hoofprint in soft soil. But he kept going, kept pushing Pony forward while the chill of the night air crept into his clothes. He was mindful that his single-minded determination could get him in trouble, but he just didn't care right then. All that mattered was finding Vin, no matter what the cost.

Whether it was blind luck or divine intervention wasn't something Chris considered at that point, but after riding for a while he entered a small patch of forest and got off Pony because of the dense foliage. Leading Pony by the reins, he set out to find a place to camp for the night, walking slowly through heavy underbrush in the dark forest.

When he stumbled over something on the ground he first thought was a root, he struck a match to take a better look at the footing before continuing, and found that it hadn't been a root at all. It was Vin's sawed-off rifle. Dropping down in a crouch, he picked it up and stared at it for a moment before rising again to shove it into the saddlebag on Pony's right side.

Just then, a sound made him stare into the darkness. Pony was suddenly very nervous, maybe catching the scent of a predator, and he considered going back the way he'd come when a howl of pain sounded ahead of him. An animal, perhaps a dog or a coyote, started screaming, an eerie sound for someone who hadn't heard it before. It sounded much like the death woes of a child in terrible pain, and it went right to his soul. The animal had obviously stepped in a trap, and Chris wouldn't leave it to suffer.

Carefully, he nearly tip-toed through the undergrowth, leaving Pony behind to not risk getting him hurt. Where there was one trap, there were usually others. He quickly found the suffering animal, a coyote as he had suspected. It had gotten both hind legs stuck in the trap, and one foot had been clipped clean off. If it didn't die of shock, it would die of blood loss, he figured, but that was still a ways off, and he couldn't stand to see the animal suffering. Training his gun at its head, he administered a clean shot, which killed the coyote instantly. "Poor thing," he mumbled and made a face at the trap.

Turning around to head back the way he'd come, he suddenly realized he wasn't alone any more. Although it was hard to make out anything in the darkness, he saw a darker shadow moving among the trees right in front of him, but before he could say or do anything, the butt of a rifle connected squarely with his brow, dropping him to the ground instantly. Dazed, he struggled to clear his vision as he fumbled for his gun, but was almost instantly hit again. This time the blow knocked him out, and he was unaware of what happened after that.

Four Corners

Buck and J.D. returned from their fishing trip right before it got dark, both in a good mood from having caught quite a few fish each. Buck kept teasing J.D. about the size of his fish, even though he hadn't been much luckier size-wise himself.

"Little man, small fish," Buck said, grinning at the pinkish color of J.D.'s cheeks. "Ain't nothin' wrong with that, boy. They're edible," he added, unable to leave the subject alone. "Might not get full of 'em, but..." he went on, but was stopped when J.D. tossed one of the smaller fish at him and hit him straight in the face with it.

J.D. stared at him for a second, then started laughing so hard he nearly fell off his horse.

Buck wiped a hand over his mouth, making a face at the feel the soggy fish had left behind. "You think that's funny, boy?" he boomed, but was unable to keep a smile at bay. It wasn't so much the situation itself as it was J.D.'s almost hysterical laughing fit.

Just when the big cowboy was about to retaliate in kind, Josiah stepped out of the Clarion's office, a serious look on his face, and waved the two of them over. "Buck, J.D.," he called.

"I'll git you for that," Buck muttered to J.D., who only kept smiling and steered his horse over to the newspaper office and dismounted on the opposite side of where Buck jumped to the ground.

"What's up, preacher? You look a might worried," Buck said, placing a foot on the edge of the boardwalk.

"And I am, too, Buck," Josiah agreed. "We seem to have gotten ourselves a situation here we don't know how to handle," he added.

Buck frowned. That didn't sound good. "Chris in there?" he asked, nodding toward the office.

"Nope," Josiah replied. "That's the problem."

That increased Buck's frown. He took a step closer to the door and glanced inside, finding Ezra talking to Mary with Nathan standing by watching them. None of them looked too happy. Turning back to face Josiah, he stared at him for a moment. "Where's he at?" he asked, glancing around him.

"He rode out to find Vin," Josiah said. "On his own. We're a tad uncertain about how to proceed, as it were."

"Why's he goin' after Vin?" Buck asked, not yet concerned about the absence of both of them, but more about the fact that the remaining three seemed slightly upset about it.

"Chris seems to believe somethin's amiss. He said it was a gut feelin', and he needed to set out at once. The thing is, now I got a gut feelin' that was a bad move," Josiah told him, keeping his tone low.

Buck pulled his hat off and raked his fingers through his hair, staring at nothing for a second. "Damnit," he mumbled, then focused on Josiah again. "I ain't never liked his gut feelin's one bit," he said. "They usually turn out to be right."

Josiah nodded. "I feared that would be the case," he said calmly. "I suggest we give Chris until dawn. If he isn't back by then, we go lookin' for them both."

Buck nodded, well aware already that he wouldn't get any sleep at all. He was a worrywart, always had been when it came to Chris. And Chris worried too much about Vin. "We set out at dawn," he said, turned around and headed for the saloon.

J.D. stared after him, then looked up at Josiah with a question in his eyes. "He don't believe Chris will be back by dawn?" he asked.

"That's right, son. Where Chris has a feelin' for trouble, so does Buck. It's like a sixth sense," Josiah agreed and put a hand on J.D.'s shoulder. "I gather he'll be back here in less than an hour, demandin' we set out at once. We might as well get ready," he added and returned to the Clarion's office.

The Stanford Homestead

Chris had just about the worst headache he'd ever experienced when he came to again. His face hurt, his right cheekbone and forehead the source of the pain, and it took him a good long while to get around to raising his head. The strain of that simple movement alone made his stomach cramp up, and he knew without a doubt that he had a concussion. The first thing that dawned on him was that he was standing, or rather hanging by his wrists, his feet barely touching the ground.

With an effort, he opened his eyes and blinked until they adjusted to the darkness surrounding him. The faint smell of hay and rotting wood gave away that he was probably in a barn or a stable of some kind. His hands felt numb, and when he tried to move them, the rattle of a chain gave away that he was shackled, and the shackles were suspended from something above his head. Tilting his head back a little, and causing himself unnecessary pain in doing so, he looked upward. From what he could make out in the darkness, the chain of the shackles was held by a hefty-looking hook which was hammered into a supporting pillar of what he figured was a barn. What the purpose of his confinement was, he could only guess at right then, but that wasn't foremost on his mind. He needed to get down from this precarious position. It left him wide open to attack and unable to defend himself, and that just wasn't acceptable to him.

A sudden sound made him squint into the darkness, and he had the distinct impression that he wasn't the only one trapped in this place. He couldn't make out much because it was too dark, but the sound he'd heard was a moan. Twisting around a little, he tried to see more of the place but couldn't make anything out which was worth while.

In vain, he tried to shift himself around so he could reach the ground properly with his feet since as long as he couldn't stand fully, he couldn't get free. But no matter how he turned and twisted, he missed the floor by about half an inch with his whole foot and could only reach it with his toes. While he struggled against his bonds, it gradually brightened in the barn, telling him he'd been here most of the night and that the sun was coming up. Slowly, things came into focus, details became clearer, and he stopped his pointless struggle to get an overview of the barn, and also of whoever else was in here with him.

Gritting his teeth, he shifted his position a little to get a better look. His wrists were pretty sore already, and his shoulders were strained from holding his weight for this long. But the instant he laid eyes on his fellow prisoner, he forgot all about his own discomfort. His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment he had no idea what to do. Not that he could do anything in his present condition. "Vin," he whispered.

The younger man was suspended much like he was, except his wrists were bound with rope, and the rope was looped over a cross beam supporting the roof above. Like Chris himself, Vin's feet barely touched the ground, but in his case it made no big difference. He was either unconscious or just too worn out to keep his head up. The only thing he was wearing were his pants, and they were blotched with dried blood. His torso was bruised, and he had cuts and abrasions everywhere. His left foot was swollen and nearly black, and there was dried blood on the floor beneath him along with discarded sticks and a knife.

Swallowing hard, Chris had to take a couple of deep breaths before he was able to make another sound. "Vin," he called a little louder.

The young tracker moved his head a little, but failed to raise it.

"Vin, can you hear me?" Chris called, wanting more than just that movement of his friend's head to confirm he was still all there.

With an effort almost beyond him and a low moan, Vin finally raised his head, showing Chris that whoever had done this to him, had done more damage than Chris had thought at first. Vin's right eye was swollen shut, his lips were split and caked with dried blood, his face looking as badly as his torso. "Chris?" he rasped, his expression twisting when he realized his friend had been captured, too.

Before Chris could ask any more questions or try to soothe his friend's distress, the barn doors opened and the four Stanford brothers came in, looking meaner than hell and ugly as sin. Chris could smell them even at this distance, and he made a face at them. He knew who they were, and it came as a bit of a surprise to him that they were the ones who had not only managed to catch Vin off guard but had also messed up the tracker badly.

"Well, look at that. Ain't that just nice," the oldest brother drawled, squinting at Chris, who gave him an angry glare back.

"You better set us both free right now," Chris growled.

"Or what? You gonna shoot us? Ain't got no gun that I can see," Jake Stanford said.

Chris would have loved to have gone for his throat right there, but that was just plain impossible. "I ain't the only one comin', boy," he said, his voice angry. He knew it was a lie, but the kid standing there with his baby brothers behind him didn't know that.

"If you ain't the only one, where's the rest?" Jake asked, then snorted. He was the only one who had just a little bit of sense, but he was madder than a rabid dog, and didn't much care what other people thought of him. If they interfered in his business, it changed things, though.

Chris resisted the need to yell at the runt. That would only seem desperate, and he didn't want to give them the impression that he was scared. He was, though. Not for himself but for Vin, who was already in bad shape. "What's this about anyway?" he demanded angrily. "Why'd you do that to 'im?" he went on, nodding toward Vin, who had let his head drop again.

Jake turned his attention to Vin and made a face. "He's been amessin' with our traps. Ain't nobody gonna do that to a Stanford's trap," he growled and reached down for one of the sticks. He started gently slapping his left palm with the stick while he kept eying Vin.

The tracker had found the strength to raise his head again, and Chris could tell he was scared of the impending beating. He'd been hurt badly already, and anything more would make him feel a hell of a lot worse than he already did. "You leave him be," Chris snapped, fighting his restraints once again. "If you wanna take that out on someone, take it out on me."

Jake turned his head and looked Chris directly in the eyes, showing the gunslinger that he was as mad as Chris had feared. "Oh, your turn will come," he promised and smiled almost languidly before returning his attention to Vin.

The next hours were hell on Earth. Seeing a friend being beaten to a pulp by four madmen, and being unable to do anything about it, put an unfamiliar strain on Chris, and he sputtered curses and swear words at them while pulling and yanking at the shackles holding his hands. Eventually, he hit a nerve in Jake Stanford by calling him a 'degenerate bastard', and the younger man turned his mad rage on Chris instead.

With malignant, cold eyes, the younger man attacked the gunslinger with everything he had, using his fists to pound the older man. Chris had learned a lot about taking punches in his life, hard-learned lessons for the most part, and so managed to cushion the majority of the blows to avoid any fatal injuries. But the kid gave him a good beating, repeatedly hammering his fists into his chest and sides. And when Jake was spent, his brothers took over. They didn't hit nearly as hard, but Chris was already exhausted and in pain. The only thing that kept him going, kept him silent except for the occasional grunt, was the thought that this gave Vin some breathing space. Chris just wasn't too sure it would be enough. He needed to get Vin out of this place, and fast. He just didn't know how yet.

North of Four Corners

Four Corners

The remaining five peacekeepers rode out well before dawn, and they spent the majority of the day searching and found nothing. Buck was getting more and more frustrated, and his usually jovial spirit was down in the pits with the rest of them. He threatened people, cursed more than ever before, and completely managed to ignore a rather attractive young lady who seemed genuinely interested in him. All he could think of was that two of his friends were missing, and he knew they were because they had found first Vin's horse and then Chris' as well. Both horses had been on their way back to Four Corners, and therefore offered no solution to the whereabouts of their riders.

When the sun started to set, Josiah took command of the group, deciding they should return to Four Corners, get some rest and some supplies, and then set out again. Buck wouldn't hear of it at first. He wanted to keep going, but Josiah talked some sense into him.

"There is nothin' we can do when it's dark out," he said. "There's hardly no trail ahead of us, and it isn't gonna do neither Chris nor Vin any good if we get ourselves lost out here," he added quietly.

Buck stared at him in the half-light of dusk, then closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I reckon you're right. Don't mean I have to like it, though," he replied.

"Nobody said you should," Josiah told him and patted his shoulder. "Let's head on home. For all we know, Chris found Vin and they're havin' a drink in the saloon right around now, wonderin' where we've all gone to."

"I wish," Buck mumbled and shook his head sadly. "I'd believe it too, if it hadn't been for them damned horses," he added, nodding at the two horses they'd decided to take along with them.

All of them felt the twinge of defeat gnawing at them, and all of them wanted to keep going; but they had no idea where Vin had gone in the first place, and subsequently had no idea where Chris had gone either. They'd have to go door to door of every property they found until they met someone who had seen or heard something. Josiah just felt that they needed to be rested to do any more good. They would be of little help to their two friends if they were too tired to respond properly.

Ezra was the last to turn his horse around and ride back toward Four Corners. He lingered a moment, staring out over the plains, a frown furrowing his brow. However much he disliked riding all day, he was reluctant to give up the search, even if it was only for the night. Despite the fact that Chris Larabee was a hard man and should have no tolerance for someone like himself, Chris had readily accepted him into their group, and for Ezra that meant more than all the money in the world. Not that he would ever admit that openly, of course. These six men were his friends, and they accepted him without question, something he had never been used to before. Not even when it came to his own mother. Sometimes he wondered if she cared about him at all. With a sigh, he finally gave the reins a light tug, and his horse turned and readily followed the rest back home.

The Stanford Homestead

Chris was, not surprisingly, hurting all over, but his physical pain was completely overshadowed by his desperate need to get free. After the sun had set, and the barn had once again become pitch black, he had started struggling to get his hands out of the shackles. He gave it a rest for a moment, gritting his teeth in pain, aware that he had broken the skin of his wrists in several places and that his hands were bleeding, but he just didn't have time for such trivialities. His hands would heal, given the chance, but Vin would die if those half-wits beat him any more. Chris didn't need to be a doctor to know that.

Knowing full well that the longer he waited the more painful it would be for him to get out of the shackles holding his hands, he fingered the iron band around his left wrist for a moment. His left hand was slightly slimmer than his right, and that gave him an edge. Holding onto the iron band to keep it as straight as possible, he closed his eyes for a moment, twisted his thumb in as far as it would go to make his hand even slimmer, and started pulling. He put all his remaining resources into it, and realized that the fact that his hand was bleeding was an added bonus at that point. The blood acted as a lubricant, and after nearly pulling his shoulder out of the socket with the strength he put into the act, his hand suddenly slipped smoothly out of the iron band. His feet hit the floor fully, and he would have fallen if it hadn't been for the fact that the shackle caught on the hook holding the chain.

Grunting with the effort, he stretched up on his toes to try and get the chain off the hook, but he couldn't reach it. He took a second to compose himself, then repeated the procedure from before with his right hand. This time it hurt like hell, and the skin on his right hand was scraped off in places, leaving his hand raw and bleeding, but he again managed to ignore the pain in favor of Vin.

On feet that felt heavy as lead, he stumbled toward the spot where he knew Vin was and remembered that the knife they had used to cut Vin with was still on the floor somewhere. He crouched down and felt for it, his hands searching blindly over straw covered boards until his fingers bumped into the wooden handle of the knife. Fortunately, Vin was somewhat shorter than him, making it easier to cut the rope holding his friend. He wrapped an arm around him before reaching up for the rope he couldn't see, and sawed through it. It took time because the knife wasn't very sharp, and that again made him wince inside at the thought that those madmen had used it to cut his friend in several places.

When the rope finally broke, Vin collapsed in his arms, nearly dragging Chris down with him. With an effort nearly beyond him, Chris held him, dragged Vin's right arm over his shoulders, and tried desperately to keep the young man upright. If he'd been unhurt himself, this wouldn't have been a problem, but the added weight made him more aware of his own injuries.

Grunting with the stress of keeping them both upright, he dragged Vin toward the rear of the barn, where he had seen one of the Stanford brothers leave through a small door. It would be better to get out at the back than having to cross any barnyard and thereby risking detection before he had a chance to get Vin out of there. "Vin," he whispered. "Can you hear me, pard?" The younger man stirred a little and moaned. "You're gonna have to help me out, Vin. I can't carry you," Chris went on, hoping to God that Vin would manage to at least rest on his feet.

Vin raised his head a little, finding it difficult to focus past the pain he was in. He couldn't remember ever having hurt so bad, and all he wanted to do was lie down and sleep so he didn't have to feel the pain anymore. But he did have some common sense left in him, and he knew Chris had been beaten too. So he made a conscious effort to find his feet and walk on his own, completely managing to forget his injured foot.

Chris was the one who remembered, and just in time, too. Vin shifted his left foot forward, putting weight on it, and would have screamed his head off if Chris hadn't instantly clapped a hand over his mouth, preventing him from doing just that. "Looks like I'm gonna have to carry you after all, huh?" he whispered.

Vin felt like he couldn't breathe. His foot hurt so badly, it stole his ability to fill his lungs with air, and he felt tears of pain welling up in his eyes. Chris somehow managed to load him over his shoulder and that hurt him too, but the throbbing of his already badly infected foot was the worst. He gagged weakly, too parched to do anything other than that. He hadn't eaten in the three days he'd been in the company of the Stanford brothers, and he hadn't had anything to drink either. It was a blessing in disguise since that prevented him from throwing up all over his friend.

Chris found the door and pushed it open, edging outside while hoping that he didn't hurt Vin any more than necessary. The door opened up right into the forest, and one glance in either direction told him that the main house was probably on the opposite side of the barn, since the barn seemed to be the only building located in this end of the clearing. Good fortune seemed to smile on him at that moment, and he started moving, walking as briskly as he could in his depleted condition, and with the extra weight of his now limp friend draped over one shoulder.

It didn't take him long to realize that he couldn't go on much further, carrying Vin like he did. His strength was ebbing away and even though he was determined to get as far away from the Stanford homestead as he could, he was afraid that he wouldn't make it like this. But he stumbled on and started dragging his feet after a while, his breath coming in labored gasps.

"Chris," Vin rasped when Chris finally came to a stop to lean against the trunk of a tree for a moment. "Le'me down."

"You ain't in no condition to walk, pard," Chris pressed out, but couldn't help wishing Vin would insist.

"You ain't in no condition to carry me, neither." Vin's voice was weak and his movements were sluggish, but he seemed adamant about this anyway.

Still breathing hard, Chris thought it over for a second, but figured he didn't want to get into an argument right now as that would slow them down even further. "Alright," he consented and let Vin slide off his shoulder as carefully as he could, draped Vin's arm over his shoulders again and wrapped his own around Vin's back. "Now, you try to keep that foot off the ground, you hear?" Chris admonished him, still breathing hard.

Vin nodded weakly and Chris started moving again, once again nearly dragging the younger man along. He knew Vin didn't have the strength to help him out, but he would be damned if he would get slowed down by this. He had to get off the Stanford land and find help somewhere.

They moved on through the forest at a less than satisfying pace, stopping every so often to just rest for a moment. Vin was out of it most of the time, moving on reflex when he was moving at all. Chris carried him as best he could, breathing hard, and was slowly but surely running out of energy, when he heard a noise behind them in the forest. It was far back, but it was obvious what it was. The Stanford brothers had realized that their prisoners were gone, and they were searching for them.

How he managed, Chris would never know, but he tapped into hidden reserves and quickened their pace. Hiding would do them no good. If he stopped, he knew for certain that he'd never get going again, and Vin couldn't afford to wait until he'd rested. Vin needed medical attention, and he needed it as fast as possible. And the risk of being found, along with the chance that his young friend would die on him from exposure and his injuries, was just too damned high. So he pushed on, giving it his all, praying to anyone willing to listen that he would run into help somewhere ahead.

Four Corners

Buck paced the floor of the saloon, nearly wearing grooves into the already worn planks, while he muttered angrily to himself. The first thing he would do once they found them, was give Vin a piece of his mind. None of them were supposed to leave town for longer than a day without informing someone about it. He realized the tracker was a loner, and didn't always think about things like that, but this whole situation could have been avoided if he hadn't taken off without letting anyone know where he was going.

And Buck knew Chris. His friend didn't get attached to others easily, but he had found something in Vin, which he had obviously missed, and he had grown rather fond of the younger man. Buck figured it was more a father-son relationship than it was a buddy relationship. Chris somehow felt responsible for Vin and wanted to protect him however he could. That bounty on his head didn't make things easier, either.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Buck stared ahead of himself for a moment. He ought to sleep, ought to get a bit of rest before going out to find them both, but he just couldn't. He had tried. Restless and sick with worry, he had returned to the saloon to at least have some company. But what good did he do, wearing grooves in the floorboards of the saloon, while Chris and Vin might be in trouble up to their necks right around now?

With a sigh, he glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was half past four in the morning, but he just couldn't wait any longer. The decision made, he went and woke everybody up, and an hour later they were ready to go. Buck's idea was that they should split up to cover more ground, and the others had agreed to that. It seemed like a good idea. J.D. would stay behind in town in case either of the two should return on their own. He'd been unhappy about it, but Buck had convinced him that he would be doing more good there.

Ezra, Nathan, Josiah and Buck took off in different directions to find their missing friends and, if need be, shoot their way out of any given situation. Buck was worked up enough to take on the whole army, if that was what it took to get both of his friends back. He didn't really blame Vin for this whole mess, but he needed to pin the blame on someone.

North of Four Corners

When the sun cleared the horizon, promising a warm day, Buck caught sight of a small homestead in the distance. He figured he might as well ask around, and rode up to the porch steps before dismounting. He glanced around briefly, noting the neatness of the yard, the way nothing seemed in need of repair, and then walked up to the front door and knocked.

It took a moment before the door opened, and he found himself facing the double barrel of a rather new Winchester rifle held by the delicate-looking hands of a strikingly beautiful woman. Dark eyes stared at him with suspicion and downright contempt.

"What do you want?" the woman snapped, ready to blow his head off if he made a wrong move. She was tall for a woman, slender, with a shock of dark curls framing a hard-cut face. Her skin had a coppery tone to it, slightly darker than most women, which disclosed to him that she probably had Indian blood in her veins.

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am," he said, pulling his hat off and giving her his most winning smile. It did nothing to make her waver in her aim, though. "I'm looking for two missin' friends, and I was wonderin' if you might 'ave seen 'em around here? One tall man, clad in black; the other smaller, shoulder-long hair."

She stared at him for a moment longer, then lowered the rifle, obviously convinced that he wasn't going to hurt her. "I ain't seen nobody around here for a bit," she told him, her tone still a bit stand-offish. Her expression mellowed a little, increasing her beauty by leaps and bounds.

Buck felt weak in the knees in the face of such beauty, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he had more important things on his mind, he would have wooed her right there and then. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. I'll just be ridin' on then," he said, put his hat back on, gave her a nod and returned to his horse. He promised himself that he would look her up again when this was all over. A beauty like that shouldn't be living out here all by herself. And even if she did have a husband, he still didn't think it was right to leave her by herself. "Good day, ma'am," he said to her, still smiling, and rode off again, back up to the road leading to her house, and on from there.

The Stanford Land

Chris allowed himself a second of rest, but the sounds behind them were growing stronger, and he needed to move on, to get Vin out of this predicament, before it killed them both. Hoisting Vin up a little to get a better grip on him, he pressed on, dragging his half-conscious friend along with the last of his reserves. He knew he needed to find help soon or they would both end up dead. Or worse. He had seen the looks one of the brothers had given Vin, and he didn't like it one bit. And his friend was certainly in no condition to defend himself against such atrocities.

So he struggled on, fighting for every step he took, sweat rolling off his body at the almost inhuman effort he was putting into supporting both of them, when all he really wanted to do was lie down somewhere and sleep. He was nothing if not stubborn, though, so he continued to drag his feet forward, to struggle against his fatigue and his aching body. He would get them both out of this, or he would die trying. The way he felt right then, though, suggested that this would be the only outcome.

"Chris," Vin rasped, barely able to make himself heard.

Trudging on, Chris didn't even dare shift his hold on the tracker out of fear that his hand would be too numb to reestablish the hold he had on him now. "What?" he pressed out through clenched teeth.

"Can't... go on."

Chris kept moving, not allowing himself to even consider the possibility of stopping. Any thought even touching on that subject drained his strength. "Sure you can. Just a little further, Vin," he pressed out, pushing himself to move faster. He knew he would pay the price for straining himself this much, but he couldn't stop, couldn't even slow down.

"Feel... sick," the younger man rasped out. "Hurt... all over."

"Yeah, me too," Chris admitted. "But we ain't stoppin' until we're outta the woods. Just hang in there, pard. Just a little longer." He was trying to convince himself as well as Vin that they wouldn't have that far to go, but somewhere deep down he didn't believe it. He wasn't ready to give up yet, though. So he pushed on, forcing each step, having to consciously command his legs to move.

So suddenly, it took him by surprise, they reached the edge of the forest and stumbled out onto a road. Chris came to a precarious stop and glanced either way, seeing nobody around except for a rider vanishing in the distance. It was still pretty early, although the sun had risen above the horizon. Scanning the area quickly, his eyes fixed on a homestead not too far away; and he forced his feet forward, aware that his friend wasn't going to make it much further than the house. He needed to get there, and he would threaten or beg for help. Either way, whoever lived there would have no choice but to help them out.

+ + + + + + +

Never had he felt so tired, so utterly exhausted as he did with a goal in sight. Chris stumbled on, still dragging his nearly comatose friend along, not knowing nor caring where he got the strength from. It wasn't something he spent any time thinking about. All that mattered was getting Vin to safety.

He considered it slightly funny that the two steps leading up to the porch should seem insurmountable when he finally got to them, but he did stop nonetheless and stared at them for a second before forcing his right foot up on the first step. It hurt, but he couldn't stop now. Dragging Vin up the steps, he felt dangerously close to running out of strength, and had to remind himself that if he gave up now, they'd be dead for sure. He could hear the Stanford brothers shouting in the forest beyond and chanced a glance backwards. They were still not in view when he hammered a fist against the door.

Before he could consider any alternative to his present endeavor, the door swung open, revealing the copper-skinned beauty Buck had fallen for. Chris didn't know that, of course; but rather found himself facing the double-barrel of the Winchester, his tired mind groping for something he could say to appease the woman holding it. At least she was armed, he thought. "Please, you gotta help us," he begged, his voice raspy.

She stared at them over the barrel of the rifle for a second, but then shifted her eyes to the forest beyond, when she heard shouting from there. Almost immediately, she lowered the rifle and stepped aside. "Bring 'im in," she told Chris and put the rifle down right next to the door. "Hurry," she added when he hesitated.

Chris didn't have to be told twice, so he dragged Vin inside and stopped once again, close to giving up the fight to stay upright with every step he still had to take.

The woman closed the door and led the way down a small corridor leading away from the common room they'd stepped into. "This way," she said and opened the door to a room at the very end. There were two beds in the room, both covered with patchwork blankets.

Chris eased his friend onto the first bed, and he nearly fell over when the added weight was finally off his shoulders. The woman grabbed his arm, steadying him. "You need to lie down, too," she told him firmly, but before she could guide him to the other bed, there was a heavy knock on the front door. She huffed with annoyance, a response he wouldn't have expected from her, her eyes on the door. "Stay here," she advised him and hurried back out into the common room.

Even though there was nothing he would have liked better than to drop down on the bed and just go to sleep, he followed her out into the small corridor, and went as far as the end, where he pressed up against the wall to listen in on the impending conversation. He was certain that the Stanford brothers had arrived, and he feared what would happen next, considering that he had no means to defend himself with.

Their gracious hostess opened the door with the rifle in hand, and shoved it in the face of another unexpected visitor. "What do you want?" she snapped angrily.

"Uh... pardon the intrusion, ma'am," Jake Stanford stammered, taken aback by both her hostility and her weapon. "My brothers an' me are huntin' some horse thieves. You ain't seen 'em around, have you?" he asked, raising his hands to show her he was unarmed.

She glanced past him at his brothers clustered together in her yard, then looked back at him, her nearly black eyes digging holes into his soul. "I ain't seen nobody around," she told him angrily. "Get off my land or I'll pump you full 'o lead, boy," she added, the threat unmistakable.

Jake Stanford backed up a step. "Uh... sorry for disturbin' you, ma'am," he stammered, turned around and returned to his brothers. "They ain't here. Must still be in the forest. Let's go," he said to them, and they took off.

With a snort of contempt, she closed the door again and placed the rifle next to it, then turned around to face Chris, who was leaning heavily against the doorframe. "I swear the next time I see their ugly faces, I'm gonna blow 'em off," she said and shook her head in disgust. "You need to lie down," she then added in a no-nonsense tone of voice, pointing a finger at him.

Chris couldn't argue that point with her. It was with no small amount of admiration that he allowed her to help him back to the room and the bed waiting for him. He had met a lot of pigheaded women in his time, a few of them more than a little crazy, but this one took the cake. There hadn't been a flicker of doubt or fear when she had faced off against Stanford, and he wondered if she realized how dangerous crazy men like him were. But he could tell that she didn't give a hoot one way or another.

It actually hurt Chris to stretch out at first when he eased down on the bed. His body did quickly adjust to the fact that his back was once again straight and the weight was off his legs, and he eventually sighed with relief. Although he still hurt all over, it felt so damned good to lie down that he almost fell asleep at once. But he couldn't allow himself the rest yet. He needed to know how badly Vin was hurt.

Turning his head, he watched the woman as she sat down on the edge of Vin's bed and carefully pushed tangled strands of blood-caked hair away from his face. "I figure you ran into the Stanford brothers, eh?" she asked, glancing over at Chris.

"Yeah, we did. They're a pretty nasty bunch," he replied and pushed himself up on one elbow. "I'm Chris Larabee. That's Vin Tanner," he introduced them both, since Vin was in no shape to even blink right then.

Turning her head to face him again, she gave him a surprised look. "Larabee?" she asked. "I heard o' you. The Magnificent Seven," she said and smiled a quiet little smile. "I'm Jessie Landon," she added and rose. "I'd best get some water and towels so you both can get cleaned up a bit. I need to see how badly he's hurt, and that ain't easy with all the blood stickin' to him." With that, she left the room again, leaving the door ajar.

Chris stared over at Vin for a moment, then allowed himself to lie back down. "Vin?" he tried, hoping his friend was still conscious.

"Yeah?" Vin nearly whispered in reply.

"Just checkin'," Chris said. "Looks like we got ourselves a guardian angel here."

Vin blinked sluggishly up at the ceiling with his one good eye. "She don't look much like an angel," he rasped, and tried a smile, which cracked his lips.

"More like a fury from hell, eh?" Jessie asked when she re-entered the room with a bowl of warm water and some towels. Her tone was good-natured, and she smiled vaguely when she said it. "And right you are," she added. "Now, let's take a look at you, shall we?" she asked on and placed the bowl beside Vin's bed on the floor.

"I'd rather not," Vin muttered.

"Oh, hush up," she told him and sat down. "You look like you've been through a wringer."

Chris kept an eye on things when she started to clean off the blood and muck covering Vin's face, and the younger man flinched more than once. But she was as careful as she could be.

The way she sat on the edge of the bed, her back halfway turned to Chris, her dark-brown curls bopping around her head whenever she moved, made a long-buried ache rise in the gunslinger. She looked like Sarah from that angle. Overwhelmed by the sudden grief, he closed his eyes and draped an arm over his aching face, trying to will those memories back into the dark corner of his mind, where he usually kept them under lock and key. Exhaustion and pain had brought down his barriers, and he hated the feelings rising in him.

Jessie glanced over at him for a moment, but figured he was a lot less hurt than his friend. She would get to him eventually. Returning her attention to Vin, she took a second to stare at him with a hard sadness in her eyes. She hated it when others got hurt, and she would forsake almost anything in life to help those who needed it. But she had learned harsh lessons in her life, which had left her in a position where she waited for them to come to her. She had stopped offering her help to others a long time ago.

Wetting the end of a new towel, she went to work on his battered chest, carefully dabbing the warm water onto his skin before drying it off as gently as she could. He had at least three or four cuts that needed stitches, but she couldn't close those wounds up before the infection already spreading in them was gone. There were rips in his pants as well at several places where he had been stabbed or cut, and she figured he'd have a lot of scars to show off after this.

With another glance at Chris, she leaned closer to Vin. "Can you hear me?" she asked him quietly. He nodded weakly. "I need to get your pants off so I can take a look at your legs. You've been pretty badly messed up, and your wounds are already infected," she told him.

"Can't... move," he rasped, his voice nearly gone.

"No problem. I'll deal with it," she told him and went right ahead and did it. If he had been just a little more together, this would have embarrassed the heck out of him; but at that point, he just couldn't care less.

Jessie was about to set her plan into action when she realized something was very wrong with his left foot. Barefoot as he was, she hadn't noticed the fact that his left foot wasn't black from dirt. Carefully, she lifted the coarse fabric of his pant leg up and that caused him to groan in pain. The fabric was stuck in the wound, and she instantly released it with a deep frown on her brow. This was anything but good. Inhaling deeply, she briefly considered what to do. Then she settled down next to him again and touched his brow. He was running a fever, which told her more than enough. "Mr. Tanner?" she asked quietly. He managed to open his one good eye and blinked sluggishly up at her. "Your foot is badly infected. I need to clean out the wound."

He blinked a few times, trying to understand what she was saying, then glanced down toward his leg. The thought of anyone touching his leg made him feel sick to his stomach. It hurt like hell, but it got worse when he moved it. Lying down had taken a bit of the pressure off it, but he didn't want her messing with it and making it worse again. So he shook his head. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "Leave it be."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Listen to me, alright?" she said, placing a soft hand over his lips when he tried to argue immediately. "If I don't clean it out, you will get gangrene or blood poisonin'." She could tell by the look in his eye that he didn't give a damn. "It will kill you. And if it don't kill you, you might end up with an unusable foot. You want that?"

He stared at her for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "No," he rasped.

That made her smile. "Alright. I'll be as careful as I can," she promised.

She soon found that keeping that promise wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be. The second she touched his foot he reared up, finding hidden reserves to bat her hand away from the injury. Sitting up was a terrible effort, and it hurt him more than he had ever thought it could; but he still remained in an upright position, making sure she didn't touch his foot.

"Vin, you gotta let her help," Chris said. He had overheard the discussion and was sitting up, too. "You'll lose your foot if you don't," he said, knowing that harsh words were the only way of dealing with this.

Vin wasn't peevish. He could stand a lot of abuse and most of it without making a sound. But this was too much. The thought alone was too much. He couldn't stomach the pain because he had been in pain for three days straight, and it wasn't getting any better. Despite knowing that both Chris and Mrs. Landon were right, he just didn't have the courage to let her deal with it. "I'll do it myself," he rasped and tried to shift around a little so he could get to his foot without bending his knee, but he could barely move on his own.

"You're in no condition," Chris admonished him and pulled his lead-heavy legs off the bed. "Let Mrs. Landon deal with it," he repeated, his tone of voice oddly commanding despite his own fatigue.

Jessie closed her eyes again, then sighed. "Alright, I'll make you a deal. The easiest way to remove your pant leg from the wound is to soften the whole thing up. Lukewarm water with a bit o' salt added will do that. It will also help clear out the infection, and it won't be nearly as painful as if I just pull the fabric off," she explained. "Will you let me do that?" she wanted to know. Just in time, she lashed out and grabbed Vin's arm, preventing him from falling heavily back on the bed. He just couldn't keep himself upright any more.

Chris was halfway off the bed before realizing she had the situation under control. "You got him?" he asked needlessly, and she merely nodded, easing her troublesome patient back down on the bed.

"You okay with that?" she asked Vin, who closed his eye and nodded weakly.

With a halfhearted sigh, Chris dropped back down on the bed, rubbing his palms over his face for a moment. Then he focused on his friend again when Jessie got up to get whatever remedies she needed. "You okay?" he asked.

"No," Vin groaned. "I hurt all over. Ain't an inch of me that don't feel bruised."

Chris regarded him for a moment, taking in all the wounds he could see. There were quite a few of them. "I'll buy that," he said and gingerly touched his own sore forehead. "There ain't nothin' you can do about it, neither, but let Mrs. Landon do what she can to help."

"It just hurts so bad," Vin mumbled, halfway unconscious again.

Once again, Chris sighed. "I know, pard. It'll pass," he said, hoping it would. There was no telling how many complications could arise from all these injuries that Vin had sustained. His foot was the worst from what Chris could see.

+ + + + + + +

Jessie brought another bowl of warm water with the added salt and somehow managed to get Vin to sit up. Stacking pillows behind him, she noted in passing that after dealing with his foot, and the cuts which needed stitching, she would have to take a closer look at his back, which was criss-crossed with whiplashes.

Using a knife, she carefully cut the leg of his pants open, and then used a pair of scissors to cut the fabric around the wound off. The pain caused by that alone was enough to keep him awake, his fingers weakly digging into the bedspread beneath him while he tried to breathe normally, which he completely failed to do at several instances.

There was no sign of discomfort on her face when she examined the pus-filled cuts on either side of his ankle. "Well, this don't look good," she said after a moment and glanced at Vin, who in turn looked about ready to pass out. She gently prodded the skin above and below the cuts, causing him to hiss with pain and try to jerk his foot away. It was swollen enough to make her fear that the skin would burst. She realized that no matter how careful she was, this would hurt badly. But she needed to clean out the wounds and the only way she could do that was the way she had described. It would be the least painful way of doing it. "Alright. Let's try this. It will hurt, though," she said, wishing there was something she could do to alleviate his pain.

Chris was still sitting up, ready to come to her aid if she needed it. He knew from experience how painful even a normal cut could be when it was infected, and Vin had more than his share to deal with.

With one hand under Vin's knee to help him raise his leg, Jessie lowered his foot into the water, submerging it. Chris' gaze shifted from the procedure to Vin's face, and realized that even though the younger man said nothing, he was in horrible pain. Although he himself felt as worn out as he thought he could get without actually dying of it, he figured that Vin needed his help right now.

Under normal circumstances, he would have groaned when he rose. All his muscles felt like they were frozen, and they wouldn't readily move. But he did rise and walked around the other bed without a sound. With a glance at what Jessie was doing, namely sloshing water carefully over the wounds, he settled on the edge of the bed, and was greeted instantly by Vin's hand closing harshly around his lower arm.

Vin had never been fond of pain. He could stomach a lot without twitching, but this was hell. He just couldn't imagine anything worse than the pain, which seemed to saturate every fibre of his being. It was a feeling he couldn't readily find words for, not that it was foremost on his mind. All he wanted was for Mrs. Landon to just stop what she was doing and leave him alone, but he also knew that what she did was necessary. He was grateful for Chris' help, for his attention; but he also wished Chris would leave because he was very close to tears, and didn't want to break down in front of the other man. This whole thing was embarrassing enough as it was. The last thing he needed was to start crying like a little kid who had scraped his knee; but damn, he felt like it right then. He desperately needed to be held by someone. He wanted to cry his eyes out. And, not for the first time since this nightmare had begun, he wanted his mother. The logical part of his mind told him that he was getting delirious, that the fever raging through him was rising, but he was slowly but surely reaching the point where he didn't care.

Chris grabbed his shoulders when it looked like he might rear up again, and pressed him back against the pillows. "Take it easy, pard," he said quietly. "Let 'er work." Just looking at Vin hurt. He was so battered that it made Chris shudder inside. If Vin's face ever became reasonably normal to look at again it would be a damned miracle, the gunslinger thought.

Jessie finally managed to pry the now softened fabric out of the wounds, but not without feeling the violent jerk that went through Vin's leg. With the removal of the fabric, the pus started oozing out of the wounds more freely.

With a glance back at him, she figured it was time to let him rest a little before his already tortured body gave up on him. She had seen injured men die from less than this.

Carefully, she raised his foot out of the water and gently wrapped cool, fresh bandages around it. For her own reasons, she always kept a supply of specially treated bandages around. They had been boiled clean and dipped in a special solution she had learned to make from her grandfather, who used to be the medicine man of an Indian tribe she couldn't recall the name of any more. Her tribal heritage hadn't interested her very much when she had been a child, because it had caused her many hours of grief when she was being picked on by the other girls. A harsh childhood as a half-breed had made her a hard woman with a mind of her own. She had found, though, that her adult form was rather appealing to most men, and she had used that to her advantage repeatedly.

Pulling a thick pillow underneath Vin's leg, she lowered his foot onto it, and turned around to face him. "I will need to repeat the procedure again," she warned him. "We'll leave it for now, though. Let me take a look at the rest o' you," she added and glanced at Chris. "You. Get back to bed," she added in a rather commanding tone of voice.

Chris stared at her, and she stared back. He could tell by the look in her eyes that he'd have to be pretty damned lucky if he could out-stare her. "Right," he muttered under his breath, and rose only to be overcome by a sudden dizzy spell that would have landed him flat on the floor if she hadn't reached out to grab him and steady him.

"This is why you should stay in bed," she admonished. "Ain't nobody ever had a swellin' like that without a concussion," she added, indicating his battered face with a wave of her free hand. Holding onto his left arm, she steadied him until he was on the other side of Vin's bed again, and could drop down on his own. When she pressed a cool hand against his brow, she found the beginnings of a fever and shook her head. "You stay in bed, you hear? You ain't fit to do nothing more than just lie here. You may not have any open wounds, friend, but you've takin' one heck of a beatin'. Ain't no man strong enough to withstand that without side-effects," she told him in that no-nonsense tone of voice of hers. "Now, you just lie here an' rest."

Chris nodded in response, and allowed himself to relax a little. His head hurt ferociously, and he felt tired beyond reason; but he remained awake, afraid to let his guard down in case Vin's condition should worsen.

Jessie returned to Vin's side and briefly examined the cuts he had on his side and chest before feeling his brow again. "Them cuts need stitches," she told him. "But not while they're still infected." Vin didn't respond, and she realized he had either finally given up the battle and fallen asleep, or had just plain passed out. Whichever it was made no difference to her as long as he got some rest.

Slightly apprehensive about leaving the work unfinished, Jessie sighed. He needed to rest, needed it dearly. She had seen what injuries like these could do to a man, and she knew the worst was still to come. Gently, she removed some of the pillows behind him so he could lie down flat again, and the only response she got to that was a low-key moan.

Instead of worrying more about Vin, she turned her attention to Chris. "Now, let's have a look at you," she said and thoughtfully eyed the black and purple swelling that was his forehead. Her eyes shifted to his cheekbone, which was also swollen and discolored. "You got any cuts?" she wanted to know.

"Don't think so," Chris replied and glanced down his black shirt, which the Stanford brothers, for some reason or other, hadn't managed to destroy completely despite the savage beating they had administered. "I'm just sore is all," he added.

"Let's see," she said and started to unbutton his shirt without giving him a chance to consider the notion.

Chris stared at her, allowing her to undo the buttons without interference, mainly because this woman intrigued him. She was headstrong and tough. Anyone who could scare off the oldest Stanford brother without even blinking was tougher than the rest in his book. He figured he might have been able to do that, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that they'd decked him before he'd even had a chance to realize who they were. And tied up like he had been hadn't made him appear threatening enough. Besides, it was hard to stare hatefully when your head was coming apart from the inside out.

Jessie stared at his battered chest for a moment, then shook her head with concern. "Someone's gotta stop them Stanford brothers. They're deadly. They ain't killed anyone yet, but I reckon it's just a matter o' time before they do," she mussed and carefully prodded his chest for broken ribs.

Chris hardly noticed the pain. The more he looked at her, the more she resembled Sarah. It was uncanny. Although Sarah had been an all-white woman, her eyes had held the same depth, and she had set her jaw the same way Jessie Landon did. There were differences, of course. This woman was a heck of a lot more stubborn than his Sarah had been, but the resemblance raised strange feelings in him.

Jessie met his eyes when she realized he wasn't responding to her comments or her prodding. The way he stared at her made her frown. "What?" she asked.

For a moment longer, he soaked up the way she looked, then he closed his eyes. "Nothin'," he mumbled. She had given him something back that he had thought he had lost -- the memory of his wife. Her resemblance to Sarah rekindled his memories of how she looked at any given time, how she laughed, and smiled, and sometimes cried. How angry she could be with him, and how gleeful. All those things he loved her for, and would always love her for. Things he had feared were slipping away from him. But Jessie Landon had revived the memories, not of Sarah and Adam's death, but of their lives, of his life with them; and somehow, the pain he had felt ever since their untimely demise started to dwindle a little. Maybe that was what was meant by the term that time heals all wounds. That you eventually started to remember the life and not the death of someone you had lost.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra Standish pulled the reins on his horse, stopping it dead in its tracks so he could take a moment to orient himself. Although he had been in Four Corners for quite some time, he still had a little trouble finding his way in the rough lands surrounding the frontier town. Trees and creeks just were not his idea of landmarks, and he found it difficult to tell one from the other. With a handkerchief of pure silk, he wiped the sweat off his brow, and briefly removed his hat to fan himself with it.

"Damned if I will know where to look," he mumbled to himself. "It is not like I was engendered for this kind of permanence." There were trees in every direction, and he had passed two creeks already that looked exactly identical to him. What was the point, he thought. It wasn't like he would find them. He wasn't a tracker, and he abhorred sitting in the saddle all day. Deciding that he wasn't the man for the job, he put his hat back on, and guided Chester in the general direction he thought Four Corners had to be in. "I do so prefer to ride with the others," he told himself with a sigh, fully aware that he would have a problem finding his way back. It was late afternoon and he was thirsty and tired and desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes, but in order to get that, he would have to find his way back home. He knew that the only way he could achieve that would be by asking for guidance. "Rather that than having to canter around out here for much longer," he mumbled and eased Chester into a light trot.

When he reached another creek, not really sure it wasn't one of the previous ones, he decided that enough was enough. He needed to ask for directions from someone. Looking around, he searched for any indication of settlement, and finally spotted a column of smoke rising in the air. That could mean a lot of things, of course, but he preferred to believe that this was a homestead, and that the owner would be willing to help him find his way back to the marginal civilization he considered Four Corners to be. "Saved at last," he muttered under his breath when he saw a homestead come into view.

When he finally reached the yard in front of the house with the attached stable, he raised an eyebrow in surprised appreciation of how neat it was. It was rare indeed that anybody cared enough about their homes to make them look this orderly. "One could almost assume this to be the beginning of a civilized city," he told himself and dismounted. Arching his back, he took a second to compose himself before ascending the two steps up to the porch to knock on the door.

The door swung open and his breath caught in his throat when he faced the ominous double barrels of a rifle, held by the delicate hands of a woman. Raising his hands immediately, he attempted to show her that he meant no harm while desperately trying to hide the tendrils of fear rising in him. "I assure you, Miss, there is no reason for you to be pointin' that weapon at me. I mean you no harm," he said, his voice calm and thereby belying the way he really felt about having a rifle shoved in his face when he knocked on a door. "I was wonderin' if you could assist me in findin' my way back to the quaint little town of Four Corners?"

She stared at him for a moment, then lowered the rifle with a frown. "Four Corners?" she asked back, looking a little surprised by that question.

"Yes, indeed, dear lady," he said, taking his hat off. "I seem to have gotten myself lost, you see, and..." he went on, but she interrupted him rather rudely.

"Lost? What are you doin' out here anyway if you can't find your way back?" she wanted to know.

Ezra was a little stumped for a moment, as usual not happy when people displayed what he considered poor manners. And he found it extra stressful when that lack of manners came from a woman such as herself. "Well, ma'am, I and some friends of mine are out scourin' the countryside for some missin' friends, and I realized too late that ridin' alone is not in my best interest."

Her frown deepened at his words. "What is this, the season for gettin' lost?" she asked. "You ain't the first to come askin' that," she added and eyed him thoughtfully. "Four Corners, eh?"

"Why, yes, dear lady. I believe I have already said that," he replied, wondering if the woman was daft for a moment. She was unbelievably beautiful, though. A sight for sore eyes. He found it rather unfortunate that such beauty didn't have the manners to match.

"You one o' the Magnificent Seven?" she wanted to know.

That caught Ezra totally off guard. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"I read that in one of them dimestore novels," she explained. "So, you one of 'em or not?"

Quick thinking had always been one of Ezra's traits, and he didn't fail to implement it at once to gain a little goodwill from this diamond in the rough. "Why, yes, I most certainly am," he said, still a little surprised by the whole thing. It had never occurred to him that he might actually become famous by riding with Chris and his gang.

"Well, then you're in luck," she told him and stepped aside. "Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner are stayin' here."

It took a moment to sink in what she had just said. "Here?" he asked, pointing a finger to the floor.

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Ain't that what I just said?" she asked back. "Yeah, right here. Come on in," she added and waved him inside. "Standin' around in doorways in this here part o' the country ain't the best thing you can do," she told him and closed the door behind him.

With his hat in his hands, he stepped inside and glanced around, seeing no sign of his friends anywhere in the impeccable common room of the house. Turning back to face her, he gave her an expectant look. "Might I inquire as to where they are?" he wanted to know, making a sweeping gesture with one hand to encompass the empty room.

"Back here. They're hurt," she replied and led the way.

That came as a bit of a shock to him, although he figured he should have expected it, since that would probably be one of the only reasons that neither of them had returned home, but he still hesitated a moment before following her. He had been about to gloat, to pat himself on the back for being the one to find the two missing, but the thought that they had been injured made him think twice. "Hurt?" he asked and hurried after her. "In what manner, if I may inquire?"

Whether it was his way with words or something else was hard to say, but Jessie Landon glanced back at him with a frown and refrained from answering his question. She figured he could see for himself when she opened the door to the rear room.

The sight that met him made Ezra come to a total stop on the doorstep, his eyes seeing something his brain wouldn't register. They were hurt alright, no doubt about that, and from what he could see, Vin was the worst off. Chris didn't look too good, either, though. With a glance at Vin, who was quite obviously unconscious, Ezra stepped into the room and stopped next to Chris' bed. "Chris?" he asked softly, hoping he wasn't disturbing the man.

The banged-up gunslinger cleared his throat and opened his eyes slowly, the pain evident in his expression. At seeing the gambler, he laboriously propped himself up on his elbows, his movements slow and careful. "Ezra," he replied in a hoarse voice. "Where'd you come from?"

With a another somewhat nervous glance at Vin, and feeling uncomfortable in the face of such obvious misery, Ezra then grabbed a chair and sat down. "Well, as it were, I and the others were out searchin' for you two, and I seem to have gotten myself lost. I stopped by this house to ask for directions and only by chance happened to learn that this good woman had taken you in."

Chris eyed him for a moment, and then dropped back down on the bed, utterly exhausted. "What'll it take for you to say things so a man can understand you?" he asked and draped an arm over his face. "Vin ran into a bit o' trouble with the Stanford brothers. I met the same trouble by goin' after 'im," he added.

The gambler didn't take it to heart that Chris commented on his way of speaking, but he did want to get out of this room. He had never been fond of other people's suffering, and he sure didn't feel like sticking around any longer than he had to. "It might be an idea if I rode back to Four Corners and alerted the others to your whereabouts," he said. "It's gettin' dark out and they might think they have to search for me, too, now."

That made Chris smile a little. "Yeah, might be a good idea," he agreed. In general, he just wanted to be left alone. His head was killing him, and he just wanted to go back to sleep so his stomach would stop cramping up every time he took a breath.

Since the idea was a sound one, Ezra didn't hesitate to implement it. "We shall be back as soon as possible," he promised and turned to leave.

"Tell Nathan to bring his remedies," Chris said, briefly pulling his arm away from his face to give Ezra a sinister look. "Vin needs all the help he can get."

Ezra nodded. "Will do," he said and took off, hurrying back out to Chester. He was already in the saddle before he remembered that he had no idea which way Four Corners was. Noting that Jessie had followed him outside, he glanced at her with a sheepish smile. "Oh my, this is a might embarrassin'," he said. "Could you kindly point me in the direction of Four Corners?"

Jessie stared at him for a moment, then pointed in the general direction. "Go straight that way. You can't miss it," she said and went back inside after Ezra had turned Chester around and had started off in that particular direction.

+ + + + + + +

Vin was aware of his poor condition in more ways than one. He could hardly move, and the pain from his battered chest made it hard for him to breathe properly. Feverish and generally afraid, he fought a losing battle against his whirling emotions, wishing he could somehow subdue the constant need to cry his eyes out. This was neither manly nor tough, but he just couldn't find the strength to stop it completely.

A sudden coolness touching his brow caused him to jerk, and he opened his one good eye. "Easy there, darlin'," Jessie whispered softly, pressing her cool hand against his brow. "Is it bad?" she wanted to know, seeing all of the pain and suffering in his expression.

He merely nodded once, afraid to speak. It would betray how close he was to tears. She wrung out a cloth in a fresh bowl of water and placed it over his face, covering his brow and eyes. The coolness was soothing and took some of the sting out of the black eye he'd been given.

"I wish I could give you somethin' for the pain," she said quietly. Glancing down at his battered torso, she shook her head sadly. Why would anybody do this to others? She just didn't understand where all this evil came from. The edges of the cuts she could see were angry red, and swollen, and desperately needed cleaning, but she could see how close he was to breaking down, and she didn't want to put him through more than he could handle. It could wait until morning. "I do have a remedy that will bring your fever down and help clear out the infection. It's a tea. It don't taste too good but it works. And it'll make you sleep." Unable to refrain from doing so, she reached out and caressed his cheek, wanting him to know that she was there for him, that she would help him.

Vin didn't respond, didn't know how, but merely allowed himself to be soothed by her touch and her soft voice. She rose from the edge of the bed, and left the room to prepare the tea, and he wished she hadn't. He wished she would understand that he just needed to be held.

Moments later, Jessie returned with the tea. Setting the cup down on the floor, she helped him sit up so she could fluff the pillow behind him and add a few more. Again his flayed back made her wish she could do more for him.

Instinctively knowing that she was being watched, she glanced over at Chris and found him staring at his friend with dark eyes. He hadn't seen the whiplashes before, and it was just another added insult that he would make right once he could.

Jessie didn't bother to comment on it, but returned her attention to Vin. "Now, you drink this real careful, alright? It's still hot," she told him and gave him the cup. It took her a split second to realize that even though he took a hold of the cup, he wouldn't be able to hold it, so she never let it go. The last thing he needed was a scalding too. With great care, she managed to make him empty the cup, and could already tell that the herbal tea was doing its job. He had trouble keeping his good eye open, and his body relaxed visibly until he simply passed out on her.

Only then did she glance back at Chris and found him sitting up once again, watching her closely. "What'd you give 'im?" he wanted to know, wondering if maybe she would give it to him too. He really needed to sleep and his headache wouldn't let him.

"It's valerian tea. In the right dosage, it has a very calmin' effect. It's good if you can't sleep. Makes you drowsy," she explained and gave him another glance. "You want some too?"

Glancing back over at Vin, Chris considered her offer for a moment. "Is he gonna be alright?" he wanted to know.

Jessie looked back at Vin for a second, then nodded. "I think so. He's strong. Just needs some time to heal," she said.

Chris watched his friend for a moment, then settled back down on the bed. "In that case, yeah, I would like some o' that tea," he said.

+ + + + + + +

Buck, J.D., Ezra, Nathan and Josiah rode back to Jessie Landon's homestead as soon as Ezra had explained to them what he had witnessed. Neither of the others had been very happy that he hadn't even bothered to ask who had done this to their friends, and Buck had nearly ripped his head off for it, still aggravated by the whole wretched state of affairs. Ezra was slightly more subdued than normal afterward, but had earned some goodwill from the others for being the one who had found them.

It was with no small amount of surprise that Buck realized who Jessie Landon was. It thrilled him to no extent that he would have a chance to get to know her better without having to come up with some lame excuse for visiting her.

The five peacekeepers dismounted their horses, finding Jessie standing in the doorway already. Buck took his hat off, and raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair with a big smile on his lips. "So, we meet again, ma'am," he said.

Jessie stared at him for a moment, then looked from one to the other. Finally, her eyes settled on Nathan, and she took a step forward. "You the doctor?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. I ain't no doctor. I know about healin', though," he replied.

She nodded and motioned for him to follow her. "That's good enough for me," she said. "Mr. Tanner needs your help."

Nathan didn't have to hear that twice. He grabbed his bag and followed her into the house, leaving the rest of them standing out front.

Buck frowned a little at her obvious disregard for the rest of them, but figured she was worried about their friends, and should therefore be excused. "Let's head on in and see what's up," he suggested and took the lead.

Nathan was already examining Vin when the rest of them turned up in the doorway. Ezra kept back, not needing another look at the wounded. J.D. was shocked by how poorly Vin seemed to be faring and pulled back too, uncertain about how to respond. Buck and Josiah entered the room, though.

"Damn," Buck muttered under his breath. Seeing that there was nothing he could do for Vin, he decided to turn his attention to Chris instead, who seemed to be either unconscious or asleep. "What happened to 'em?" he wanted to know, turning to Jessie.

"The Stanford brothers happened," she said darkly. "Damn fool thing to do, enterin' their land. Those brothers are mad."

"Madder 'en hell, I'd say," Buck agreed, an angry tone to his voice. He would go after them himself if that was what it took.

"What'd you do to make 'em sleep?" Nathan asked without taking his eyes off Vin.

Jessie leaned closer to see what he was doing. "Valerian tea. In the right dosage it's almost as effective as chloroform, an' a lot easier on the stomach," she explained, then turned her attention back to Buck and Josiah. "Let the man work," she said and ushered them both out the door. "I'll make you somethin' to eat."

+ + + + + + +

Buck, J.D., Ezra, Nathan and Josiah rode back to Jessie Landon's homestead as soon as Ezra had explained to them what he had witnessed. Neither of the others had been very happy that he hadn't even bothered to ask who had done this to their friends, and Buck had nearly ripped his head off for it, still aggravated by the whole wretched state of affairs. Ezra was slightly more subdued than normal afterward, but had earned some goodwill from the others for being the one who had found them.

It was with no small amount of surprise that Buck realized who Jessie Landon was. It thrilled him to no extent that he would have a chance to get to know her better without having to come up with some lame excuse for visiting her.

The five peacekeepers dismounted their horses, finding Jessie standing in the doorway already. Buck took his hat off, and raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair with a big smile on his lips. "So, we meet again, ma'am," he said.

Jessie stared at him for a moment, then looked from one to the other. Finally, her eyes settled on Nathan, and she took a step forward. "You the doctor?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. I ain't no doctor. I know about healin', though," he replied.

She nodded and motioned for him to follow her. "That's good enough for me," she said. "Mr. Tanner needs your help."

Nathan didn't have to hear that twice. He grabbed his bag and followed her into the house, leaving the rest of them standing out front.

Buck frowned a little at her obvious disregard for the rest of them, but figured she was worried about their friends, and should therefore be excused. "Let's head on in and see what's up," he suggested and took the lead.

Nathan was already examining Vin when the rest of them turned up in the doorway. Ezra kept back, not needing another look at the wounded. J.D. was shocked by how poorly Vin seemed to be faring and pulled back too, uncertain about how to respond. Buck and Josiah entered the room, though.

"Damn," Buck muttered under his breath. Seeing that there was nothing he could do for Vin, he decided to turn his attention to Chris instead, who seemed to be either unconscious or asleep. "What happened to 'em?" he wanted to know, turning to Jessie.

"The Stanford brothers happened," she said darkly. "Damn fool thing to do, enterin' their land. Those brothers are mad."

"Madder 'en hell, I'd say," Buck agreed, an angry tone to his voice. He would go after them himself if that was what it took.

"What'd you do to make 'em sleep?" Nathan asked without taking his eyes off Vin.

Jessie leaned closer to see what he was doing. "Valerian tea. In the right dosage it's almost as effective as chloroform, an' a lot easier on the stomach," she explained, then turned her attention back to Buck and Josiah. "Let the man work," she said and ushered them both out the door. "I'll make you somethin' to eat."

---

Four Corners

Buck paced the floor of the saloon, nearly wearing grooves into the already worn planks, while he muttered angrily to himself. The first thing he would do once they found them, was give Vin a piece of his mind. None of them were supposed to leave town for longer than a day without informing someone about it. He realized the tracker was a loner, and didn't always think about things like that, but this whole situation could have been avoided if he hadn't taken off without letting anyone know where he was going.

And Buck knew Chris. His friend didn't get attached to others easily, but he had found something in Vin, which he had obviously missed, and he had grown rather fond of the younger man. Buck figured it was more a father-son relationship than it was a buddy relationship. Chris somehow felt responsible for Vin and wanted to protect him however he could. That bounty on his head didn't make things easier, either.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Buck stared ahead of himself for a moment. He ought to sleep, ought to get a bit of rest before going out to find them both, but he just couldn't. He had tried. Restless and sick with worry, he had returned to the saloon to at least have some company. But what good did he do, wearing grooves in the floorboards of the saloon, while Chris and Vin might be in trouble up to their necks right around now?

With a sigh, he glanced over at the clock on the wall. It was half past four in the morning, but he just couldn't wait any longer. The decision made, he went and woke everybody up, and an hour later they were ready to go. Buck's idea was that they should split up to cover more ground, and the others had agreed to that. It seemed like a good idea. J.D. would stay behind in town in case either of the two should return on their own. He'd been unhappy about it, but Buck had convinced him that he would be doing more good there.

Ezra, Nathan, Josiah and Buck took off in different directions to find their missing friends and, if need be, shoot their way out of any given situation. Buck was worked up enough to take on the whole army, if that was what it took to get both of his friends back. He didn't really blame Vin for this whole mess, but he needed to pin the blame on someone.

---

North of Four Corners

When the sun cleared the horizon, promising a warm day, Buck caught sight of a small homestead in the distance. He figured he might as well ask around, and rode up to the porch steps before dismounting. He glanced around briefly, noting the neatness of the yard, the way nothing seemed in need of repair, and then walked up to the front door and knocked.

It took a moment before the door opened, and he found himself facing the double barrel of a rather new Winchester rifle held by the delicate-looking hands of a strikingly beautiful woman. Dark eyes stared at him with suspicion and downright contempt.

"What do you want?" the woman snapped, ready to blow his head off if he made a wrong move. She was tall for a woman, slender, with a shock of dark curls framing a hard-cut face. Her skin had a coppery tone to it, slightly darker than most women, which disclosed to him that she probably had Indian blood in her veins.

"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am," he said, pulling his hat off and giving her his most winning smile. It did nothing to make her waver in her aim, though. "I'm looking for two missin' friends, and I was wonderin' if you might 'ave seen 'em around here? One tall man, clad in black; the other smaller, shoulder-long hair."

She stared at him for a moment longer, then lowered the rifle, obviously convinced that he wasn't going to hurt her. "I ain't seen nobody around here for a bit," she told him, her tone still a bit stand-offish. Her expression mellowed a little, increasing her beauty by leaps and bounds.

Buck felt weak in the knees in the face of such beauty, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he had more important things on his mind, he would have wooed her right there and then. "Well, I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am. I'll just be ridin' on then," he said, put his hat back on, gave her a nod and returned to his horse. He promised himself that he would look her up again when this was all over. A beauty like that shouldn't be living out here all by herself. And even if she did have a husband, he still didn't think it was right to leave her by herself. "Good day, ma'am," he said to her, still smiling, and rode off again, back up to the road leading to her house, and on from there.

---

The Stanford Land

Chris allowed himself a second of rest, but the sounds behind them were growing stronger, and he needed to move on, to get Vin out of this predicament, before it killed them both. Hoisting Vin up a little to get a better grip on him, he pressed on, dragging his half-conscious friend along with the last of his reserves. He knew he needed to find help soon or they would both end up dead. Or worse. He had seen the looks one of the brothers had given Vin, and he didn't like it one bit. And his friend was certainly in no condition to defend himself against such atrocities.

So he struggled on, fighting for every step he took, sweat rolling off his body at the almost inhuman effort he was putting into supporting both of them, when all he really wanted to do was lie down somewhere and sleep. He was nothing if not stubborn, though, so he continued to drag his feet forward, to struggle against his fatigue and his aching body. He would get them both out of this, or he would die trying. The way he felt right then, though, suggested that this would be the only outcome.

"Chris," Vin rasped, barely able to make himself heard.

Trudging on, Chris didn't even dare shift his hold on the tracker out of fear that his hand would be too numb to reestablish the hold he had on him now. "What?" he pressed out through clenched teeth.

"Can't... go on."

Chris kept moving, not allowing himself to even consider the possibility of stopping. Any thought even touching on that subject drained his strength. "Sure you can. Just a little further, Vin," he pressed out, pushing himself to move faster. He knew he would pay the price for straining himself this much, but he couldn't stop, couldn't even slow down.

"Feel... sick," the younger man rasped out. "Hurt... all over."

"Yeah, me too," Chris admitted. "But we ain't stoppin' until we're outta the woods. Just hang in there, pard. Just a little longer." He was trying to convince himself as well as Vin that they wouldn't have that far to go, but somewhere deep down he didn't believe it. He wasn't ready to give up yet, though. So he pushed on, forcing each step, having to consciously command his legs to move.

So suddenly, it took him by surprise, they reached the edge of the forest and stumbled out onto a road. Chris came to a precarious stop and glanced either way, seeing nobody around except for a rider vanishing in the distance. It was still pretty early, although the sun had risen above the horizon. Scanning the area quickly, his eyes fixed on a homestead not too far away; and he forced his feet forward, aware that his friend wasn't going to make it much further than the house. He needed to get there, and he would threaten or beg for help. Either way, whoever lived there would have no choice but to help them out.

---

Never had he felt so tired, so utterly exhausted as he did with a goal in sight. Chris stumbled on, still dragging his nearly comatose friend along, not knowing nor caring where he got the strength from. It wasn't something he spent any time thinking about. All that mattered was getting Vin to safety.

He considered it slightly funny that the two steps leading up to the porch should seem insurmountable when he finally got to them, but he did stop nonetheless and stared at them for a second before forcing his right foot up on the first step. It hurt, but he couldn't stop now. Dragging Vin up the steps, he felt dangerously close to running out of strength, and had to remind himself that if he gave up now, they'd be dead for sure. He could hear the Stanford brothers shouting in the forest beyond and chanced a glance backwards. They were still not in view when he hammered a fist against the door.

Before he could consider any alternative to his present endeavor, the door swung open, revealing the copper-skinned beauty Buck had fallen for. Chris didn't know that, of course; but rather found himself facing the double-barrel of the Winchester, his tired mind groping for something he could say to appease the woman holding it. At least she was armed, he thought. "Please, you gotta help us," he begged, his voice raspy.

She stared at them over the barrel of the rifle for a second, but then shifted her eyes to the forest beyond, when she heard shouting from there. Almost immediately, she lowered the rifle and stepped aside. "Bring 'im in," she told Chris and put the rifle down right next to the door. "Hurry," she added when he hesitated.

Chris didn't have to be told twice, so he dragged Vin inside and stopped once again, close to giving up the fight to stay upright with every step he still had to take.

The woman closed the door and led the way down a small corridor leading away from the common room they'd stepped into. "This way," she said and opened the door to a room at the very end. There were two beds in the room, both covered with patchwork blankets.

Chris eased his friend onto the first bed, and he nearly fell over when the added weight was finally off his shoulders. The woman grabbed his arm, steadying him. "You need to lie down, too," she told him firmly, but before she could guide him to the other bed, there was a heavy knock on the front door. She huffed with annoyance, a response he wouldn't have expected from her, her eyes on the door. "Stay here," she advised him and hurried back out into the common room.

Even though there was nothing he would have liked better than to drop down on the bed and just go to sleep, he followed her out into the small corridor, and went as far as the end, where he pressed up against the wall to listen in on the impending conversation. He was certain that the Stanford brothers had arrived, and he feared what would happen next, considering that he had no means to defend himself with.

Their gracious hostess opened the door with the rifle in hand, and shoved it in the face of another unexpected visitor. "What do you want?" she snapped angrily.

"Uh... pardon the intrusion, ma'am," Jake Stanford stammered, taken aback by both her hostility and her weapon. "My brothers an' me are huntin' some horse thieves. You ain't seen 'em around, have you?" he asked, raising his hands to show her he was unarmed.

She glanced past him at his brothers clustered together in her yard, then looked back at him, her nearly black eyes digging holes into his soul. "I ain't seen nobody around," she told him angrily. "Get off my land or I'll pump you full 'o lead, boy," she added, the threat unmistakable.

Jake Stanford backed up a step. "Uh... sorry for disturbin' you, ma'am," he stammered, turned around and returned to his brothers. "They ain't here. Must still be in the forest. Let's go," he said to them, and they took off.

With a snort of contempt, she closed the door again and placed the rifle next to it, then turned around to face Chris, who was leaning heavily against the doorframe. "I swear the next time I see their ugly faces, I'm gonna blow 'em off," she said and shook her head in disgust. "You need to lie down," she then added in a no-nonsense tone of voice, pointing a finger at him.

Chris couldn't argue that point with her. It was with no small amount of admiration that he allowed her to help him back to the room and the bed waiting for him. He had met a lot of pigheaded women in his time, a few of them more than a little crazy, but this one took the cake. There hadn't been a flicker of doubt or fear when she had faced off against Stanford, and he wondered if she realized how dangerous crazy men like him were. But he could tell that she didn't give a hoot one way or another.

It actually hurt Chris to stretch out at first when he eased down on the bed. His body did quickly adjust to the fact that his back was once again straight and the weight was off his legs, and he eventually sighed with relief. Although he still hurt all over, it felt so damned good to lie down that he almost fell asleep at once. But he couldn't allow himself the rest yet. He needed to know how badly Vin was hurt.

Turning his head, he watched the woman as she sat down on the edge of Vin's bed and carefully pushed tangled strands of blood-caked hair away from his face. "I figure you ran into the Stanford brothers, eh?" she asked, glancing over at Chris.

"Yeah, we did. They're a pretty nasty bunch," he replied and pushed himself up on one elbow. "I'm Chris Larabee. That's Vin Tanner," he introduced them both, since Vin was in no shape to even blink right then.

Turning her head to face him again, she gave him a surprised look. "Larabee?" she asked. "I heard o' you. The Magnificent Seven," she said and smiled a quiet little smile. "I'm Jessie Landon," she added and rose. "I'd best get some water and towels so you both can get cleaned up a bit. I need to see how badly he's hurt, and that ain't easy with all the blood stickin' to him." With that, she left the room again, leaving the door ajar.

Chris stared over at Vin for a moment, then allowed himself to lie back down. "Vin?" he tried, hoping his friend was still conscious.

"Yeah?" Vin nearly whispered in reply.

"Just checkin'," Chris said. "Looks like we got ourselves a guardian angel here."

Vin blinked sluggishly up at the ceiling with his one good eye. "She don't look much like an angel," he rasped, and tried a smile, which cracked his lips.

"More like a fury from hell, eh?" Jessie asked when she re-entered the room with a bowl of warm water and some towels. Her tone was good-natured, and she smiled vaguely when she said it. "And right you are," she added. "Now, let's take a look at you, shall we?" she asked on and placed the bowl beside Vin's bed on the floor.

"I'd rather not," Vin muttered.

"Oh, hush up," she told him and sat down. "You look like you've been through a wringer."

Chris kept an eye on things when she started to clean off the blood and muck covering Vin's face, and the younger man flinched more than once. But she was as careful as she could be.

The way she sat on the edge of the bed, her back halfway turned to Chris, her dark-brown curls bopping around her head whenever she moved, made a long-buried ache rise in the gunslinger. She looked like Sarah from that angle. Overwhelmed by the sudden grief, he closed his eyes and draped an arm over his aching face, trying to will those memories back into the dark corner of his mind, where he usually kept them under lock and key. Exhaustion and pain had brought down his barriers, and he hated the feelings rising in him.

Jessie glanced over at him for a moment, but figured he was a lot less hurt than his friend. She would get to him eventually. Returning her attention to Vin, she took a second to stare at him with a hard sadness in her eyes. She hated it when others got hurt, and she would forsake almost anything in life to help those who needed it. But she had learned harsh lessons in her life, which had left her in a position where she waited for them to come to her. She had stopped offering her help to others a long time ago.

Wetting the end of a new towel, she went to work on his battered chest, carefully dabbing the warm water onto his skin before drying it off as gently as she could. He had at least three or four cuts that needed stitches, but she couldn't close those wounds up before the infection already spreading in them was gone. There were rips in his pants as well at several places where he had been stabbed or cut, and she figured he'd have a lot of scars to show off after this.

With another glance at Chris, she leaned closer to Vin. "Can you hear me?" she asked him quietly. He nodded weakly. "I need to get your pants off so I can take a look at your legs. You've been pretty badly messed up, and your wounds are already infected," she told him.

"Can't... move," he rasped, his voice nearly gone.

"No problem. I'll deal with it," she told him and went right ahead and did it. If he had been just a little more together, this would have embarrassed the heck out of him; but at that point, he just couldn't care less.

Jessie was about to set her plan into action when she realized something was very wrong with his left foot. Barefoot as he was, she hadn't noticed the fact that his left foot wasn't black from dirt. Carefully, she lifted the coarse fabric of his pant leg up and that caused him to groan in pain. The fabric was stuck in the wound, and she instantly released it with a deep frown on her brow. This was anything but good. Inhaling deeply, she briefly considered what to do. Then she settled down next to him again and touched his brow. He was running a fever, which told her more than enough. "Mr. Tanner?" she asked quietly. He managed to open his one good eye and blinked sluggishly up at her. "Your foot is badly infected. I need to clean out the wound."

He blinked a few times, trying to understand what she was saying, then glanced down toward his leg. The thought of anyone touching his leg made him feel sick to his stomach. It hurt like hell, but it got worse when he moved it. Lying down had taken a bit of the pressure off it, but he didn't want her messing with it and making it worse again. So he shook his head. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "Leave it be."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Listen to me, alright?" she said, placing a soft hand over his lips when he tried to argue immediately. "If I don't clean it out, you will get gangrene or blood poisonin'." She could tell by the look in his eye that he didn't give a damn. "It will kill you. And if it don't kill you, you might end up with an unusable foot. You want that?"

He stared at her for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "No," he rasped.

That made her smile. "Alright. I'll be as careful as I can," she promised.

She soon found that keeping that promise wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be. The second she touched his foot he reared up, finding hidden reserves to bat her hand away from the injury. Sitting up was a terrible effort, and it hurt him more than he had ever thought it could; but he still remained in an upright position, making sure she didn't touch his foot.

"Vin, you gotta let her help," Chris said. He had overheard the discussion and was sitting up, too. "You'll lose your foot if you don't," he said, knowing that harsh words were the only way of dealing with this.

Vin wasn't peevish. He could stand a lot of abuse and most of it without making a sound. But this was too much. The thought alone was too much. He couldn't stomach the pain because he had been in pain for three days straight, and it wasn't getting any better. Despite knowing that both Chris and Mrs. Landon were right, he just didn't have the courage to let her deal with it. "I'll do it myself," he rasped and tried to shift around a little so he could get to his foot without bending his knee, but he could barely move on his own.

"You're in no condition," Chris admonished him and pulled his lead-heavy legs off the bed. "Let Mrs. Landon deal with it," he repeated, his tone of voice oddly commanding despite his own fatigue.

Jessie closed her eyes again, then sighed. "Alright, I'll make you a deal. The easiest way to remove your pant leg from the wound is to soften the whole thing up. Lukewarm water with a bit o' salt added will do that. It will also help clear out the infection, and it won't be nearly as painful as if I just pull the fabric off," she explained. "Will you let me do that?" she wanted to know. Just in time, she lashed out and grabbed Vin's arm, preventing him from falling heavily back on the bed. He just couldn't keep himself upright any more.

Chris was halfway off the bed before realizing she had the situation under control. "You got him?" he asked needlessly, and she merely nodded, easing her troublesome patient back down on the bed.

"You okay with that?" she asked Vin, who closed his eye and nodded weakly.

With a halfhearted sigh, Chris dropped back down on the bed, rubbing his palms over his face for a moment. Then he focused on his friend again when Jessie got up to get whatever remedies she needed. "You okay?" he asked.

"No," Vin groaned. "I hurt all over. Ain't an inch of me that don't feel bruised."

Chris regarded him for a moment, taking in all the wounds he could see. There were quite a few of them. "I'll buy that," he said and gingerly touched his own sore forehead. "There ain't nothin' you can do about it, neither, but let Mrs. Landon do what she can to help."

"It just hurts so bad," Vin mumbled, halfway unconscious again.

Once again, Chris sighed. "I know, pard. It'll pass," he said, hoping it would. There was no telling how many complications could arise from all these injuries that Vin had sustained. His foot was the worst from what Chris could see.

+ + + + + + +

Jessie brought another bowl of warm water with the added salt and somehow managed to get Vin to sit up. Stacking pillows behind him, she noted in passing that after dealing with his foot, and the cuts which needed stitching, she would have to take a closer look at his back, which was criss-crossed with whiplashes.

Using a knife, she carefully cut the leg of his pants open, and then used a pair of scissors to cut the fabric around the wound off. The pain caused by that alone was enough to keep him awake, his fingers weakly digging into the bedspread beneath him while he tried to breathe normally, which he completely failed to do at several instances.

There was no sign of discomfort on her face when she examined the pus-filled cuts on either side of his ankle. "Well, this don't look good," she said after a moment and glanced at Vin, who in turn looked about ready to pass out. She gently prodded the skin above and below the cuts, causing him to hiss with pain and try to jerk his foot away. It was swollen enough to make her fear that the skin would burst. She realized that no matter how careful she was, this would hurt badly. But she needed to clean out the wounds and the only way she could do that was the way she had described. It would be the least painful way of doing it. "Alright. Let's try this. It will hurt, though," she said, wishing there was something she could do to alleviate his pain.

Chris was still sitting up, ready to come to her aid if she needed it. He knew from experience how painful even a normal cut could be when it was infected, and Vin had more than his share to deal with.

With one hand under Vin's knee to help him raise his leg, Jessie lowered his foot into the water, submerging it. Chris' gaze shifted from the procedure to Vin's face, and realized that even though the younger man said nothing, he was in horrible pain. Although he himself felt as worn out as he thought he could get without actually dying of it, he figured that Vin needed his help right now.

Under normal circumstances, he would have groaned when he rose. All his muscles felt like they were frozen, and they wouldn't readily move. But he did rise and walked around the other bed without a sound. With a glance at what Jessie was doing, namely sloshing water carefully over the wounds, he settled on the edge of the bed, and was greeted instantly by Vin's hand closing harshly around his lower arm.

Vin had never been fond of pain. He could stomach a lot without twitching, but this was hell. He just couldn't imagine anything worse than the pain, which seemed to saturate every fibre of his being. It was a feeling he couldn't readily find words for, not that it was foremost on his mind. All he wanted was for Mrs. Landon to just stop what she was doing and leave him alone, but he also knew that what she did was necessary. He was grateful for Chris' help, for his attention; but he also wished Chris would leave because he was very close to tears, and didn't want to break down in front of the other man. This whole thing was embarrassing enough as it was. The last thing he needed was to start crying like a little kid who had scraped his knee; but damn, he felt like it right then. He desperately needed to be held by someone. He wanted to cry his eyes out. And, not for the first time since this nightmare had begun, he wanted his mother. The logical part of his mind told him that he was getting delirious, that the fever raging through him was rising, but he was slowly but surely reaching the point where he didn't care.

Chris grabbed his shoulders when it looked like he might rear up again, and pressed him back against the pillows. "Take it easy, pard," he said quietly. "Let 'er work." Just looking at Vin hurt. He was so battered that it made Chris shudder inside. If Vin's face ever became reasonably normal to look at again it would be a damned miracle, the gunslinger thought.

Jessie finally managed to pry the now softened fabric out of the wounds, but not without feeling the violent jerk that went through Vin's leg. With the removal of the fabric, the pus started oozing out of the wounds more freely.

With a glance back at him, she figured it was time to let him rest a little before his already tortured body gave up on him. She had seen injured men die from less than this.

Carefully, she raised his foot out of the water and gently wrapped cool, fresh bandages around it. For her own reasons, she always kept a supply of specially treated bandages around. They had been boiled clean and dipped in a special solution she had learned to make from her grandfather, who used to be the medicine man of an Indian tribe she couldn't recall the name of any more. Her tribal heritage hadn't interested her very much when she had been a child, because it had caused her many hours of grief when she was being picked on by the other girls. A harsh childhood as a half-breed had made her a hard woman with a mind of her own. She had found, though, that her adult form was rather appealing to most men, and she had used that to her advantage repeatedly.

Pulling a thick pillow underneath Vin's leg, she lowered his foot onto it, and turned around to face him. "I will need to repeat the procedure again," she warned him. "We'll leave it for now, though. Let me take a look at the rest o' you," she added and glanced at Chris. "You. Get back to bed," she added in a rather commanding tone of voice.

Chris stared at her, and she stared back. He could tell by the look in her eyes that he'd have to be pretty damned lucky if he could out-stare her. "Right," he muttered under his breath, and rose only to be overcome by a sudden dizzy spell that would have landed him flat on the floor if she hadn't reached out to grab him and steady him.

"This is why you should stay in bed," she admonished. "Ain't nobody ever had a swellin' like that without a concussion," she added, indicating his battered face with a wave of her free hand. Holding onto his left arm, she steadied him until he was on the other side of Vin's bed again, and could drop down on his own. When she pressed a cool hand against his brow, she found the beginnings of a fever and shook her head. "You stay in bed, you hear? You ain't fit to do nothing more than just lie here. You may not have any open wounds, friend, but you've takin' one heck of a beatin'. Ain't no man strong enough to withstand that without side-effects," she told him in that no-nonsense tone of voice of hers. "Now, you just lie here an' rest."

Chris nodded in response, and allowed himself to relax a little. His head hurt ferociously, and he felt tired beyond reason; but he remained awake, afraid to let his guard down in case Vin's condition should worsen.

Jessie returned to Vin's side and briefly examined the cuts he had on his side and chest before feeling his brow again. "Them cuts need stitches," she told him. "But not while they're still infected." Vin didn't respond, and she realized he had either finally given up the battle and fallen asleep, or had just plain passed out. Whichever it was made no difference to her as long as he got some rest.

Slightly apprehensive about leaving the work unfinished, Jessie sighed. He needed to rest, needed it dearly. She had seen what injuries like these could do to a man, and she knew the worst was still to come. Gently, she removed some of the pillows behind him so he could lie down flat again, and the only response she got to that was a low-key moan.

Instead of worrying more about Vin, she turned her attention to Chris. "Now, let's have a look at you," she said and thoughtfully eyed the black and purple swelling that was his forehead. Her eyes shifted to his cheekbone, which was also swollen and discolored. "You got any cuts?" she wanted to know.

"Don't think so," Chris replied and glanced down his black shirt, which the Stanford brothers, for some reason or other, hadn't managed to destroy completely despite the savage beating they had administered. "I'm just sore is all," he added.

"Let's see," she said and started to unbutton his shirt without giving him a chance to consider the notion.

Chris stared at her, allowing her to undo the buttons without interference, mainly because this woman intrigued him. She was headstrong and tough. Anyone who could scare off the oldest Stanford brother without even blinking was tougher than the rest in his book. He figured he might have been able to do that, too, if it hadn't been for the fact that they'd decked him before he'd even had a chance to realize who they were. And tied up like he had been hadn't made him appear threatening enough. Besides, it was hard to stare hatefully when your head was coming apart from the inside out.

Jessie stared at his battered chest for a moment, then shook her head with concern. "Someone's gotta stop them Stanford brothers. They're deadly. They ain't killed anyone yet, but I reckon it's just a matter o' time before they do," she mussed and carefully prodded his chest for broken ribs.

Chris hardly noticed the pain. The more he looked at her, the more she resembled Sarah. It was uncanny. Although Sarah had been an all-white woman, her eyes had held the same depth, and she had set her jaw the same way Jessie Landon did. There were differences, of course. This woman was a heck of a lot more stubborn than his Sarah had been, but the resemblance raised strange feelings in him.

Jessie met his eyes when she realized he wasn't responding to her comments or her prodding. The way he stared at her made her frown. "What?" she asked.

For a moment longer, he soaked up the way she looked, then he closed his eyes. "Nothin'," he mumbled. She had given him something back that he had thought he had lost -- the memory of his wife. Her resemblance to Sarah rekindled his memories of how she looked at any given time, how she laughed, and smiled, and sometimes cried. How angry she could be with him, and how gleeful. All those things he loved her for, and would always love her for. Things he had feared were slipping away from him. But Jessie Landon had revived the memories, not of Sarah and Adam's death, but of their lives, of his life with them; and somehow, the pain he had felt ever since their untimely demise started to dwindle a little. Maybe that was what was meant by the term that time heals all wounds. That you eventually started to remember the life and not the death of someone you had lost.

North of Four Corners

Ezra Standish pulled the reins on his horse, stopping it dead in its tracks so he could take a moment to orient himself. Although he had been in Four Corners for quite some time, he still had a little trouble finding his way in the rough lands surrounding the frontier town. Trees and creeks just were not his idea of landmarks, and he found it difficult to tell one from the other. With a handkerchief of pure silk, he wiped the sweat off his brow, and briefly removed his hat to fan himself with it.

"Damned if I will know where to look," he mumbled to himself. "It is not like I was engendered for this kind of permanence." There were trees in every direction, and he had passed two creeks already that looked exactly identical to him. What was the point, he thought. It wasn't like he would find them. He wasn't a tracker, and he abhorred sitting in the saddle all day. Deciding that he wasn't the man for the job, he put his hat back on, and guided Chester in the general direction he thought Four Corners had to be in. "I do so prefer to ride with the others," he told himself with a sigh, fully aware that he would have a problem finding his way back. It was late afternoon and he was thirsty and tired and desperately needed a bath and a change of clothes, but in order to get that, he would have to find his way back home. He knew that the only way he could achieve that would be by asking for guidance. "Rather that than having to canter around out here for much longer," he mumbled and eased Chester into a light trot.

When he reached another creek, not really sure it wasn't one of the previous ones, he decided that enough was enough. He needed to ask for directions from someone. Looking around, he searched for any indication of settlement, and finally spotted a column of smoke rising in the air. That could mean a lot of things, of course, but he preferred to believe that this was a homestead, and that the owner would be willing to help him find his way back to the marginal civilization he considered Four Corners to be. "Saved at last," he muttered under his breath when he saw a homestead come into view.

When he finally reached the yard in front of the house with the attached stable, he raised an eyebrow in surprised appreciation of how neat it was. It was rare indeed that anybody cared enough about their homes to make them look this orderly. "One could almost assume this to be the beginning of a civilized city," he told himself and dismounted. Arching his back, he took a second to compose himself before ascending the two steps up to the porch to knock on the door.

The door swung open and his breath caught in his throat when he faced the ominous double barrels of a rifle, held by the delicate hands of a woman. Raising his hands immediately, he attempted to show her that he meant no harm while desperately trying to hide the tendrils of fear rising in him. "I assure you, Miss, there is no reason for you to be pointin' that weapon at me. I mean you no harm," he said, his voice calm and thereby belying the way he really felt about having a rifle shoved in his face when he knocked on a door. "I was wonderin' if you could assist me in findin' my way back to the quaint little town of Four Corners?"

She stared at him for a moment, then lowered the rifle with a frown. "Four Corners?" she asked back, looking a little surprised by that question.

"Yes, indeed, dear lady," he said, taking his hat off. "I seem to have gotten myself lost, you see, and..." he went on, but she interrupted him rather rudely.

"Lost? What are you doin' out here anyway if you can't find your way back?" she wanted to know.

Ezra was a little stumped for a moment, as usual not happy when people displayed what he considered poor manners. And he found it extra stressful when that lack of manners came from a woman such as herself. "Well, ma'am, I and some friends of mine are out scourin' the countryside for some missin' friends, and I realized too late that ridin' alone is not in my best interest."

Her frown deepened at his words. "What is this, the season for gettin' lost?" she asked. "You ain't the first to come askin' that," she added and eyed him thoughtfully. "Four Corners, eh?"

"Why, yes, dear lady. I believe I have already said that," he replied, wondering if the woman was daft for a moment. She was unbelievably beautiful, though. A sight for sore eyes. He found it rather unfortunate that such beauty didn't have the manners to match.

"You one o' the Magnificent Seven?" she wanted to know.

That caught Ezra totally off guard. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"I read that in one of them dimestore novels," she explained. "So, you one of 'em or not?"

Quick thinking had always been one of Ezra's traits, and he didn't fail to implement it at once to gain a little goodwill from this diamond in the rough. "Why, yes, I most certainly am," he said, still a little surprised by the whole thing. It had never occurred to him that he might actually become famous by riding with Chris and his gang.

"Well, then you're in luck," she told him and stepped aside. "Mr. Larabee and Mr. Tanner are stayin' here."

It took a moment to sink in what she had just said. "Here?" he asked, pointing a finger to the floor.

She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Ain't that what I just said?" she asked back. "Yeah, right here. Come on in," she added and waved him inside. "Standin' around in doorways in this here part o' the country ain't the best thing you can do," she told him and closed the door behind him.

With his hat in his hands, he stepped inside and glanced around, seeing no sign of his friends anywhere in the impeccable common room of the house. Turning back to face her, he gave her an expectant look. "Might I inquire as to where they are?" he wanted to know, making a sweeping gesture with one hand to encompass the empty room.

"Back here. They're hurt," she replied and led the way.

That came as a bit of a shock to him, although he figured he should have expected it, since that would probably be one of the only reasons that neither of them had returned home, but he still hesitated a moment before following her. He had been about to gloat, to pat himself on the back for being the one to find the two missing, but the thought that they had been injured made him think twice. "Hurt?" he asked and hurried after her. "In what manner, if I may inquire?"

Whether it was his way with words or something else was hard to say, but Jessie Landon glanced back at him with a frown and refrained from answering his question. She figured he could see for himself when she opened the door to the rear room.

The sight that met him made Ezra come to a total stop on the doorstep, his eyes seeing something his brain wouldn't register. They were hurt alright, no doubt about that, and from what he could see, Vin was the worst off. Chris didn't look too good, either, though. With a glance at Vin, who was quite obviously unconscious, Ezra stepped into the room and stopped next to Chris' bed. "Chris?" he asked softly, hoping he wasn't disturbing the man.

The banged-up gunslinger cleared his throat and opened his eyes slowly, the pain evident in his expression. At seeing the gambler, he laboriously propped himself up on his elbows, his movements slow and careful. "Ezra," he replied in a hoarse voice. "Where'd you come from?"

With a another somewhat nervous glance at Vin, and feeling uncomfortable in the face of such obvious misery, Ezra then grabbed a chair and sat down. "Well, as it were, I and the others were out searchin' for you two, and I seem to have gotten myself lost. I stopped by this house to ask for directions and only by chance happened to learn that this good woman had taken you in."

Chris eyed him for a moment, and then dropped back down on the bed, utterly exhausted. "What'll it take for you to say things so a man can understand you?" he asked and draped an arm over his face. "Vin ran into a bit o' trouble with the Stanford brothers. I met the same trouble by goin' after 'im," he added.

The gambler didn't take it to heart that Chris commented on his way of speaking, but he did want to get out of this room. He had never been fond of other people's suffering, and he sure didn't feel like sticking around any longer than he had to. "It might be an idea if I rode back to Four Corners and alerted the others to your whereabouts," he said. "It's gettin' dark out and they might think they have to search for me, too, now."

That made Chris smile a little. "Yeah, might be a good idea," he agreed. In general, he just wanted to be left alone. His head was killing him, and he just wanted to go back to sleep so his stomach would stop cramping up every time he took a breath.

Since the idea was a sound one, Ezra didn't hesitate to implement it. "We shall be back as soon as possible," he promised and turned to leave.

"Tell Nathan to bring his remedies," Chris said, briefly pulling his arm away from his face to give Ezra a sinister look. "Vin needs all the help he can get."

Ezra nodded. "Will do," he said and took off, hurrying back out to Chester. He was already in the saddle before he remembered that he had no idea which way Four Corners was. Noting that Jessie had followed him outside, he glanced at her with a sheepish smile. "Oh my, this is a might embarrassin'," he said. "Could you kindly point me in the direction of Four Corners?"

Jessie stared at him for a moment, then pointed in the general direction. "Go straight that way. You can't miss it," she said and went back inside after Ezra had turned Chester around and had started off in that particular direction.

+ + + + + + +

Vin was aware of his poor condition in more ways than one. He could hardly move, and the pain from his battered chest made it hard for him to breathe properly. Feverish and generally afraid, he fought a losing battle against his whirling emotions, wishing he could somehow subdue the constant need to cry his eyes out. This was neither manly nor tough, but he just couldn't find the strength to stop it completely.

A sudden coolness touching his brow caused him to jerk, and he opened his one good eye. "Easy there, darlin'," Jessie whispered softly, pressing her cool hand against his brow. "Is it bad?" she wanted to know, seeing all of the pain and suffering in his expression.

He merely nodded once, afraid to speak. It would betray how close he was to tears. She wrung out a cloth in a fresh bowl of water and placed it over his face, covering his brow and eyes. The coolness was soothing and took some of the sting out of the black eye he'd been given.

"I wish I could give you somethin' for the pain," she said quietly. Glancing down at his battered torso, she shook her head sadly. Why would anybody do this to others? She just didn't understand where all this evil came from. The edges of the cuts she could see were angry red, and swollen, and desperately needed cleaning, but she could see how close he was to breaking down, and she didn't want to put him through more than he could handle. It could wait until morning. "I do have a remedy that will bring your fever down and help clear out the infection. It's a tea. It don't taste too good but it works. And it'll make you sleep." Unable to refrain from doing so, she reached out and caressed his cheek, wanting him to know that she was there for him, that she would help him.

Vin didn't respond, didn't know how, but merely allowed himself to be soothed by her touch and her soft voice. She rose from the edge of the bed, and left the room to prepare the tea, and he wished she hadn't. He wished she would understand that he just needed to be held.

Moments later, Jessie returned with the tea. Setting the cup down on the floor, she helped him sit up so she could fluff the pillow behind him and add a few more. Again his flayed back made her wish she could do more for him.

Instinctively knowing that she was being watched, she glanced over at Chris and found him staring at his friend with dark eyes. He hadn't seen the whiplashes before, and it was just another added insult that he would make right once he could.

Jessie didn't bother to comment on it, but returned her attention to Vin. "Now, you drink this real careful, alright? It's still hot," she told him and gave him the cup. It took her a split second to realize that even though he took a hold of the cup, he wouldn't be able to hold it, so she never let it go. The last thing he needed was a scalding too. With great care, she managed to make him empty the cup, and could already tell that the herbal tea was doing its job. He had trouble keeping his good eye open, and his body relaxed visibly until he simply passed out on her.

Only then did she glance back at Chris and found him sitting up once again, watching her closely. "What'd you give 'im?" he wanted to know, wondering if maybe she would give it to him too. He really needed to sleep and his headache wouldn't let him.

"It's valerian tea. In the right dosage, it has a very calmin' effect. It's good if you can't sleep. Makes you drowsy," she explained and gave him another glance. "You want some too?"

Glancing back over at Vin, Chris considered her offer for a moment. "Is he gonna be alright?" he wanted to know.

Jessie looked back at Vin for a second, then nodded. "I think so. He's strong. Just needs some time to heal," she said.

Chris watched his friend for a moment, then settled back down on the bed. "In that case, yeah, I would like some o' that tea," he said.

Jessie looked back at Vin for a second, then nodded. "I think so. He's strong. Just needs some time to heal," she said.

Chris watched his friend for a moment, then settled back down on the bed. "In that case, yeah, I would like some o' that tea," he said.

+ + + + + + +

Buck, J.D., Ezra, Nathan and Josiah rode back to Jessie Landon's homestead as soon as Ezra had explained to them what he had witnessed. Neither of the others had been very happy that he hadn't even bothered to ask who had done this to their friends, and Buck had nearly ripped his head off for it, still aggravated by the whole wretched state of affairs. Ezra was slightly more subdued than normal afterward, but had earned some goodwill from the others for being the one who had found them.

It was with no small amount of surprise that Buck realized who Jessie Landon was. It thrilled him to no extent that he would have a chance to get to know her better without having to come up with some lame excuse for visiting her.

The five peacekeepers dismounted their horses, finding Jessie standing in the doorway already. Buck took his hat off, and raked the fingers of his right hand through his hair with a big smile on his lips. "So, we meet again, ma'am," he said.

Jessie stared at him for a moment, then looked from one to the other. Finally, her eyes settled on Nathan, and she took a step forward. "You the doctor?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. I ain't no doctor. I know about healin', though," he replied.

She nodded and motioned for him to follow her. "That's good enough for me," she said. "Mr. Tanner needs your help."

Nathan didn't have to hear that twice. He grabbed his bag and followed her into the house, leaving the rest of them standing out front.

Buck frowned a little at her obvious disregard for the rest of them, but figured she was worried about their friends, and should therefore be excused. "Let's head on in and see what's up," he suggested and took the lead.

Nathan was already examining Vin when the rest of them turned up in the doorway. Ezra kept back, not needing another look at the wounded. J.D. was shocked by how poorly Vin seemed to be faring and pulled back too, uncertain about how to respond. Buck and Josiah entered the room, though.

"Damn," Buck muttered under his breath. Seeing that there was nothing he could do for Vin, he decided to turn his attention to Chris instead, who seemed to be either unconscious or asleep. "What happened to 'em?" he wanted to know, turning to Jessie.

"The Stanford brothers happened," she said darkly. "Damn fool thing to do, enterin' their land. Those brothers are mad."

"Madder 'en hell, I'd say," Buck agreed, an angry tone to his voice. He would go after them himself if that was what it took.

"What'd you do to make 'em sleep?" Nathan asked without taking his eyes off Vin.

Jessie leaned closer to see what he was doing. "Valerian tea. In the right dosage it's almost as effective as chloroform, an' a lot easier on the stomach," she explained, then turned her attention back to Buck and Josiah. "Let the man work," she said and ushered them both out the door. "I'll make you somethin' to eat."

+ + + + + + +

Chris didn't know how long he'd been out, but he did feel marginally better when he woke up again. His head didn't hurt so much any more. He still felt sore, though, and knew it would be a while before he was back to normal.

With a bit of surprise, he realized that Nathan was in the room with him when the healer settled down on the edge of his bed, giving him a scrutinizing look. "You've looked better," Nathan said and smiled weakly. "How's the head?"

"Sore," Chris admitted, and gingerly touched his still swollen forehead. "I reckon my roguish good looks are gone for good, huh?" he added and smiled. "How's Vin doin'?"

The healer glanced over at the tracker who lay motionless in bed, breathing shallowly. "Ain't sure, but I reckon he's in a lotta pain. Care to tell me what happened?" he asked and looked back at Chris.

"The Stanford brothers." With dark, stormy eyes, Chris stared over at his friend. "Vin's messed with their traps one time too many, I reckon. They took it out o' his hide." The look in his eyes darkened further, and he would have frowned deeply if he could have. "I just don't know how they could get him in the first place. Vin's fast. An' he ain't no fool."

Nathan nodded, his eyes on the tracker as well. "That he ain't," he agreed. "The wound on his foot, though, that looks like somethin' done by a trap or the likes."

With a tired shake of his head, Chris closed his eyes. "He's a tracker, Nate. He'd know about such things, wouldn't he?" he asked.

"Could be he got distracted an' stepped in it by accident. Happens to all of us," Nathan replied. "It don't look good, though. He's feverish an' the foot's almost black."

It was hard not to hear the regret in Nathan's voice, but this wasn't what Chris wanted to hear. Not yet, at least. "He'll be fine," he tried to convince both of them.

"I ain't so sure, Chris. It don't look good at all," the healer insisted. "Ain't seen too many trap-wounds like that, but I seen enough bullet wounds in the war to know that it ain't gonna heal on its own. He'll get gangrene."

"Don't give up on him yet," Chris said, a slight warning tone to his voice. "He'll be fine," he added, more to convince himself than Nathan. He could only guess at what would happen if Vin lost his foot. Sure, other men had lost their feet, even their legs, and gone one from there. But Vin was a free spirit, and he needed his body intact to take him wherever the wind blew. Losing a limb was not an option for him.

"I'll go talk to Mrs. Landon about this. She might know more 'an me," Nathan said and got up to leave the room again. He stopped briefly to stare at Vin, then shook his head and left.

+ + + + + + +

With Chris feeling better, Jessie figured he'd be better off in another room, which the house had plenty of. For a reason, which was her own, she had room enough for all of them and then some. None of them asked her about it, although Ezra was the one most intrigued by the size of the house, and its neatness.

Jessie moved Chris to another room so they all didn't have to bother Vin more than necessary. Ezra and J.D. eventually decided to go back to Four Corners despite the fact that it was dark already. J.D. felt he couldn't leave the town unprotected, and Ezra didn't feel like he was doing much good anyway, so he might as well just go back to the saloon, and help J.D. keep an eye on things.

Buck, Nathan and Josiah stayed behind to help out if necessary. Jessie arranged another room for the three of them after having cooked them a meal they wouldn't forget any time soon. She made it all look so easy, and she didn't seem to mind the company one bit.

Chris didn't join them for dinner, but he did eat, and felt better for it. Jessie settled for giving Vin some soup, afraid that if he couldn't stomach solid food and got sick of it, he would only hurt himself if it came back up again. After she had shown them where everything was, they settled down for a late cup of coffee, another thing she was good at making, to discuss what to do next.

Nathan stared darkly ahead of himself, having run out of ideas when it came to Vin's condition. He agreed with Jessie that the open cuts couldn't be sutured until the inflamation was gone, but he also knew that the longer the wounds remained open, the more likely it was that they wouldn't heal at all, or at least would leave very ugly scars behind.

Buck, for once, was solemn, not talking much while he sat at the table, sloshing the coffee around in his cup while he stared at the dark liquid. "It ain't right," he finally said, looking up to face the others.

Josiah had chosen a rocking chair and was looking rather relaxed, but a little sinister too. "What isn't right?" he wanted to know, looking over at the big cowboy.

"That good folks get hurt by them Stanford brothers. We gotta do somethin' about 'em," Buck said.

"I agree," Josiah consented. "But there are more pressing matters at hand right now. Like brother Vin. What'd you reckon, healer? Is he gonna make it?"

Nathan shrugged. "Don't know. It's too early to tell. But I reckon he might lose that foot o' his. It ain't looking good an' it ain't gettin' no better, neither."

Jessie listened to their conversation, saying nothing. She had her own opinions about what was what, but kept them to herself until someone asked for a piece of her mind. After a moment, she rose, smoothing the fabric of her dress as she straightened. "I'll just go check on 'im," she said and walked off down the corridor, not looking back.

Buck watched her go, then sighed. All his intentions to try and woo this beautiful woman had gone up in smoke the minute he had learned that his friends were hurt. And he most certainly wasn't thinking about wooing her now. "We can't just sit around an' do nothin'," he grumbled instead.

"For now, we can and we will. Let's see how Chris feels about it in the mornin'," Josiah said quietly.

The Following Morning

After a restless night spent taking care of Vin, Jessie sat on the chair next to his bed in the early morning hours, resting a little. She had changed the bandages on his foot, and had spent the major part of the night listening to his feverish rambling. Most of it had made no sense what so ever, but like most men when they were sick, he had ended up calling out for his mother. She had soothed him as best she could, doing her best to keep him cool and reasonably comfortable, and he had finally slipped into a restless sleep, which had lasted for a little over an hour at that point.

Nathan had looked in on his ailing friend a few times during the night, but had been no luckier than Jessie in dealing with his rising temperature and festering infections. As tough as Jessie was in her day-to-day routine, that was how lost she felt while she could just sit by and watch a man younger than herself slowly slip into oblivion. If only she had paid more attention to her grandfather's advice, she would probably have been able to help him more. And on top of it all, she worried about the Stanford brothers, and whether or not they would return. It was unlikely at this point, though. Despite their stupidity, they would know that she wasn't alone any more. There were three horses out front, and that should keep them away for the time being.

Allowing herself to close her eyes for a bit, she let her shoulders slump, and cleared her mind of worrying thoughts. Her grandfather had said that the spirits of his tribe watched over her, that she alone had inherited the right to be called...! Shaking her head, she opened her eyes again. She could not, with any certainty, recall the name of his tribe. But that was what he had told her back then. And with it, he had also told her that she had also inherited the skill to become a medicine woman. She could make bandages that would help heal a wound. But that was all she could remember at this point, and in this instance, that wasn't enough.

With a soft sigh, she leaned forward and placed a hand on her patient's brow. He was still as hot as steam kettle, although he was resting peacefully. Once again, she wrung out the cloth in the water and dabbed his face and chest with it, trying to cool him down. The fever was going to eat him alive if she didn't find a way to break it, and she once again chastised herself for not being able to remember all the remedies her grandfather had taught her about in her childhood. Even one or two of them would do the trick. If she could only remember the ones that would break a fever or kill an infection. But, no matter how hard she tried, she just could not remember. On top of it, she also feared that she was too tired to focus her mind properly. Eventually, she decided that she would do Vin more good rested, so she stretched out on the other bed, draped an arm over her eyes and fell asleep almost instantly.

An hour later, she sat bolt upright on the bed, her eyes wide with surprise. The ancient recipes of her grandfather's had come back to her in a dream, and she rushed out into the common room to start preparing what she needed. The most important one had returned to her with such clarity, that she wondered if her grandfather's spirit had intervened when she needed it most.

With a smile on her lips, she gathered the different remedies stored in various jars above the stove, remedies she had kept there because her mother had done the same, and put the pot on the fire, leaving the brew she was making to simmer. If she got it right, the paste that would come out of the bistort root, echinacea, myrrh and goldenseal would be able to drag the infection out of Vin's wounds. Reaching up again to the shelf above the stove, she retrieved a jar, which contained dried henbane leaves. She figured it would be better to use fresh leaves, but since she didn't have any, these would have to do. Used in the right dosage, they would act as an effective way to reduce his pain. She just had to remember the most important part of using henbane leaves. If she left them on too long, they became toxic.

"'Mornin', ma'am."

Jessie almost dropped the spoon she used to stir the brew and sent Buck a startled look. In her haste to prepare the medication, she had completely forgotten about Vin's three friends. "'Mornin'," she replied, instantly in control of her emotions again. Although she didn't have anything in particular against Buck, he wasn't the type of man she found attractive. Fully aware that this would come as a shock to him, she still didn't really care. She knew his type, and he wouldn't take it too lightly that she didn't find him fascinating and sexy.

"How's Vin doin'?" he asked, stepping closer to see what she was doing. "My, that smells good. What is it?"

"Mr. Tanner's asleep," Jessie replied and kept her attention on the brew. "And this is medicine," she added.

Buck wasn't stupid. Although he did consider himself irresistible to women, he could sense that this one wasn't interested. He figured it was because she was busy taking care of Vin and Chris, and didn't have time to fall for his charm. "What's it gonna do?" he wanted to know and settled down on a chair to watch her work.

"Hopefully, it'll drag that infection right out o' his wounds," she said, not seeing any reason why she shouldn't explain this to him. "I ain't no healer, but my grandpa was an Indian medicine man and... well... he told me a few things that might work. Didn't remember 'em 'til now, though."

"That sounds mighty good. I bet Vin's gonna be real happy you're helpin' 'im," Buck said with a smile that would have melted any woman's heart. Or so he liked to believe.

Jessie merely glanced at him and shrugged. "I sure hope so."

"'Mornin'."

Jessie glanced over at Josiah and gave him a quick smile. "'Mornin', Mr. Sanchez," she said and returned her attention to her doings.

Buck glanced up at the ex-preacher, slightly annoyed that he'd chosen this moment to enter the scene, but he couldn't very well tell the man to get lost without raising suspicion. Instead he merely nodded to Josiah, who settled down next to him and folded his arms on the table top.

Nathan turned up five minutes later, looking as tired as Jessie had begun to feel. "'Mornin', ma'am," he said, nodding to her. "How's the patient?"

"Asleep when I left 'im," Jessie replied, thoughtfully eying the paste-like soup the brew was turning into. "He's got a high fever, though. You got any remedies to bring it down?" she asked, glancing over at him.

Nathan stepped up beside her and looked into the pot. "Nothin' that would work here," he said. "What's that?"

"Ancient Indian recipe. I just remembered how to do it," she explained. "Bistort root with echinacea, myrrh and goldenseal. It has cleasnin' abilities. Should drag the infection right out o' his foot and other wounds."

Nathan watched with interest as she went on preparing the medicine. "I could sure use them recipes," he said with a smile, hoping he wasn't intruding on some family secret or something. "If you don't mind sharin', that is."

Jessie merely smiled. "Certainly. You might find use for 'em when you're healin' folks," she replied.

"You wouldn't happen to have somethin' for a headache, would you?"

Jessie looked over at Chris, who had just turned up in the doorway to the corridor beyond. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, squinting at her. "Sure I do," she said and grabbed another jar off the shelf, wondering where the instincts to do this suddenly came from. The day before she wouldn't have known which herbs to use for what. "Sit down. I'll make you a cup o' tea. It'll take that headache right away."

Chris was in no mood to discuss whether he believed a cup of tea would kill the thundering in his head. At this point, he was willing to try anything, and if she thought tea would do the trick, he would give it a try. "Thanks," he said and sank down on a chair across from Buck and Josiah.

"How're you feelin', pard?" Buck asked, giving him a thoughtful look.

Gingerly rubbing his sore brow, which had returned to its normal size, but was still discolored, he briefly closed his eyes. "Like I've been trampled by about a dozen horses," he said and blinked a few times to readjust his eyes to the light.

Jessie placed a cup of tea in front of him and returned to her doings without a word. She knew it would work. The knowledge of such things was alien to her, but she trusted them because she could remember her grandfather telling her about all this. With a dishcloth wrapped around the handle of the pot, she pulled it off the fire, content in the knowledge that she would be helping now, rather than feeling frustrated over not being able to do anything. The only thing that had her worried was Vin's response to the treatment she was going to give him. She figured she needed some help, and turned to the four men now sitting around the table. "I'll be needin' some help..." she said, attracting their attention.

"I'll help you," Buck volunteered instantly, already rising.

"...to hold Mr. Tanner down while I put this on his foot," she continued, holding the pot of still smoking hot paste up. "It's gonna hurt 'im somethin' fierce, but it's necessary. I can't do it if he won't let me, though."

Suddenly a little pale, Buck dropped down on the chair again, not so eager to help anymore. He had never been fond of hearing other men screaming their heads off in pain.

Chris stared at her for a moment, then emptied the cup of tea, which he had to admit was already doing wonders for his headache. "Ain't that a little too hot yet?" he asked.

"Oh, I'll let it cool a little," she assured him and set the pot down again. "But it has to be warm when it's put on, and he ain't too happy about just having bandages put on, so I need a pair o' strong hands to hold 'im down while I do that."

"And one to hold his legs, I reckon," Chris supplemented and she nodded. "I'd help, but I just don't think I got the strength for it yet."

"Oh, you ain't helpin'," she told him a little sternly. "You ought 'o be in bed still."

Josiah rose, smoothing his hands over his pants, and gave Buck a look. "Come on, brother Buck. A friend needs us," he said, clamping a hand onto Buck's shoulder. "I gather it'd be best if we three were hold'n 'im down."

+ + + + + + +

Jessie had explained the situation to Vin, but he didn't really seem to register what she wanted to do. He was awake, bathed in sweat, burning hot, and all he did while she explained the procedure to him was stare at her. Eventually, she sighed and glanced at the four men standing around the bed. Chris had refused bluntly to return to his bed and was watching the whole thing from the doorway. Jessie got the distinct impression that he wanted to make sure she wasn't going to hurt his friend unnecessarily.

"He don't understand," she said somewhat sadly. "The fever's too high. I gotta break it first."

Nathan put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "He don't need to understand, Mrs. Landon. The sooner we do this, the better for 'im. Let's get it done."

With a nod, Jessie sat down on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath and started to unwrap Vin's foot. The infection was still bad and the fact that she touched his foot once again made him jerk violently. Josiah took a hold of his left leg, pressing it down on the pillows meant to keep his foot elevated. Buck did the same with his right leg, and Nathan sat down facing Vin and put his hands on the younger man's shoulders. Glancing back at Jessie, he gave her a nod. They were ready.

In order for the warm paste to work, it was best if the wounds were fairly fresh, and the only way she could achieve that was by removing the bandages, which were once again stuck in the wounds, forcefully. When she got to the point where there was nothing left to do than just give the pus-saturated bandages a pull to get them off his foot, she glanced around at the three men holding her patient down, then looked over to meet Chris' eyes. The man just stood there, watching the proceedings with a calm expression, but she could read in his eyes how much he disliked what she was about to do.

"Hold 'im down," she said and ripped the last piece of bandage out of the wounds, which started bleeding with renewed force. Somehow, the pain this caused Vin broke through the veil of fever, and Nathan had his hands full in keeping him down, while Josiah and Buck had all the trouble they could handle holding his legs still. Where he got the strength from was anybody's guess, but he put up one hell of a fight to get away from further pain.

Jessie quickly spread some of the paste on a new bandage and, after cleaning the wounds thoroughly, she carefully placed the bandage over the bleeding gashes on his ankle. That caused another bout of eerily silent resistance. What really got to Chris, who was watching all this, was that the young tracker didn't make a sound. He fought them with everything he had, trying to get them to release him, but he never even hissed.

Within moments, Jessie finished wrapping his foot in new bandages, and eventually signaled for the three men to release Vin, who had calmed down considerably. He was probably too spent already to put up much more of a fight.

They released him and stepped back, and Jessie turned back to face him, taking in every sign of his misery she could see. His breath was shallow and fast, his chest and face glistening with perspiration. His hands lay limply by his sides, and his eyes were closed.

For a long moment, nobody moved and nobody spoke. Then Jessie slowly got up, smoothing her dress down and tucking a loose strand of hair behind one ear. Glancing around at the four others, she noted that their attentions were solely on Vin, all of them solemn. "Thanks for your help," she said. "I'll finish the rest."

Nathan stayed to help her deal with the remaining wounds, while Buck, Josiah and Chris returned to the common room. Buck went outside for a moment, and returned with a bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag, which he handed over to Chris without a word. Chris took the bottle and stared at it for a second, then pulled the cork out with his teeth, and took a generous swig.

Josiah grabbed three tin cups from a shelf, took the bottle from Chris before he could finish it on his own, and poured for all of them. Then he settled back and took a sip of his cup.

"Sweet lord, ain't that just the scariest thing you ever saw?" Buck muttered and emptied his cup in one go. "He never made no sound."

"It would seem I wasn't mistaken about Vin after all," Josiah said in his usual calm, balanced manner, while he stared thoughtfully into the cup.

"Why's that?" Chris wanted to know, his elbows resting on the table top, the cup sitting untouched in front of him. "What did you think he was?"

Josiah raised an eyebrow, a puzzled look on his face. "The quiet type," he finally said and looked up to meet Chris' eyes. "In all aspects of life, he's the quiet type."

"Ain't that the truth," Chris agreed with a sigh, and leaned back on his chair.

Buck focused on him, a frown furrowing his brow. "You feelin' better?"

With a frown of his own, which made him grimace since his forehead was still sore, he realized that he was feeling better. "As a matter of fact, yeah," he said, sounding a little confused by it. "Ain't nothing left but a sore feelin'."

Josiah smiled knowingly. "It's mighty good to know that the dear lady is on our side," he said, confusing the two old friends. "She's very good at cookin' up healing herbs," he added, attempting to explain. "Imagine what she can do if she don't like you."

Both Buck and Chris stared at him for a moment, then Chris settled himself a little more comfortably, grabbed the cup and drained the whiskey in one go. "Between her and Nathan, Vin should be in good shape soon," he said, a dark look in his eyes. "I say we head out and have ourselves a little talk with the Stanford brothers tomorrow mornin'."

+ + + + + + +

Jessie gathered the discarded bandages in the nearly empty bowl of water and raked her fingers through her hair, pushing several loose strands back. "He's tough," she commented, glancing at Nathan.

"Yeah, that he is," Nathan agreed with a concerned glance toward Vin's foot. "Ain't no toughness gonna be enough if that don't heal soon, though," he added.

Cradling the bowl in her arms, Jessie stared at her patient and smiled weakly. "It'll heal," she said, the confidence in her voice striking Nathan as somewhat odd. "That paste'll pull the infection right out. He'll be right as rain in a few weeks."

"I wish I had your confidence," Nathan sighed. "Let's give 'im some peace."

They stepped out into the corridor, and Jessie closed the door behind her and followed Nathan back to the common room, where Buck, Chris and Josiah were talking quietly about what they should do about the Stanford brothers. Jessie eyed the bottle in the center of the table, then flicked her eyes to Chris, who wasn't paying attention to anything other than what Josiah was saying about not turning the other cheek in this case. It took the gunslinger a second to realize he was being stared at, and he looked up to meet a pair of serious dark eyes.

"You ain't doin' your head no good by drinkin' whiskey," Jessie said matter-of-fact-like, and set the bowl down on the kitchen table.

"I appreciate your help, Mrs. Landon, but this ain't none o' your concern," he replied in a slightly terse tone of voice, and reached for the bottle.

Jessie was faster, though, and snatched it away from him. "I ain't sayin' it to meddle," she told him darkly. "I'm sayin' it 'cause it's true. Ain't gonna do you no good. You'll be hurtin' enough as it is."

Chris stared at her, using the same withering glare that would make any gunfighter facing him think twice about drawing his gun, but this woman didn't even blink. She stared right back, her eyes slightly narrowed. "I ain't hurtin' no more," he told her.

"No, not now you ain't," she agreed. "But when the tea wears off, then you'll be hurtin' somethin' fierce if you ain't taken care of yourself."

"Wears off?" Chris asked, a little surprised. She nodded solemnly in response. "Ain't it supposed to make me feel better?" he wanted to know.

"And it does," she said, no doubt in her voice. "But it ain't workin' no different than laudanum or chloroform. Just ain't got the same side effects. But, it'll wear off eventually."

Chris wasn't one to show his feelings, but he did swallow at the prospect of the pain returning, and all three of his friends noticed it too. Neither said anything, though. They were fully aware that pushing the man when he had a good day wasn't a good idea. Pushing him when he was feeling bad, that would be just about the worst idea anybody could come up with. He was likely to shoot someone over that. "Alright," he finally said, not happy about admitting defeat. Reluctantly, he pushed the cup of whiskey away, and gave her an annoyed look.

Jessie picked up the cup and shook her head like a concerned mother. "I'll make you all some coffee an' breakfast," she offered.

Buck was instantly delighted. There was nothing better than a home cooked meal, and he did so relish the air of familiarity of this scene. As soon as Jessie turned her back to them to start preparing some breakfast for them, though, the eeriness of the resemblance struck home with full force, and the otherwise delighted smile on his lips faded, while memories from happier times surfaced. He only had to take one look at Chris to know that he also saw the likeness. There was an almost sad gleam in Chris' eyes as he stared at Jessie's back, and Buck suddenly felt the distinct need to break up this scene, which seemed to have taken them all on a leap back through time. Jessie looked so much like Sarah from the back that it made him swallow hard. "So, Mrs. Landon, how's Vin doin', then?" he asked, directing his attention fully toward Jessie.

"He's sleepin'," she replied without turning around.

"Rather peacefully," Nathan agreed.

Chris made a face and looked down at the table top. To watch Jessie like this was just too damned painful. It reminded him of that last morning before he and Buck had gone off to Mexico. That last morning when he'd held his wife and kissed his son goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time he'd ever hold either of them.

The walls of the room suddenly seemed to close in on him, and he pushed his chair back and strode out of the house, out into the yard, where he stopped again, hands clenched into fists, his head down. Damn, how he hated his memories sometimes. And how he just longed to once again drink his mind out.

Nathan and Josiah exchanged glances as Buck rose and followed Chris outside. He didn't really know what he could say to make this whole thing go away again, but he did know that leaving Chris alone when he was in this mood was dangerous. Stopping on the lower porch step, he groped for words, hoping he didn't say anything that would piss Chris off even more. "Eerie scene, that, huh?" he asked.

Chris was fighting his ragged emotions. It had been four years since they had died, and the pain was still fresh and raw inside him. When he had first noticed the resemblance between Jessie and Sarah, he had felt different about it than he did now. But there were just too many things that looked alike, and he just couldn't bear it, couldn't stomach it.

A hand grabbed Buck's shoulder and he glanced up to see Jessie standing behind him, her eyes on Chris. "Le' me talk to him," she said quietly and walked down the steps and over to Chris.

Buck wasn't so sure this was a good idea, but he couldn't very well prevent her from going where she wanted on her own land. Uncertain, he figured that all he could do was go back inside and let these two work it out together, so he reluctantly turned around and went back to join Josiah and Nathan to explain what had just happened.

"Is somethin' wrong?" Jessie asked. She knew it was a stupid question because quite obviously something was wrong, but she wanted to hear it from him.

Chris fought for control, didn't want to let her know how much he was hurting inside, but eventually, he just sighed and shook his head. "Nope," he said quietly. "Not a thing."

"I remind you of someone, don't I?" she asked. Being perceptive had always been both a curse and a blessing for her. She could sense other people's moods quite easily.

For a moment, the gunslinger considered denying it, but then figured that if he didn't tell her, Buck would eventually. The man just couldn't keep his trap shut. Although he didn't think it was something to discuss with everything and everybody, he figured he owed her an explanation. She had, after all, saved both his and Vin's life. "Yeah," he replied somewhat hoarsely. "My wife."

Jessie stared at him hard for a moment, sensing all the conflicting feelings in him. "She dead?" she asked and he nodded, not saying a word, his eyes on the ground. "How long ago?" she asked on.

That made him smile a cynical little smile. She would probably think he wallowed in self-pity if he told her, but he also figured that he had started this and couldn't just leave it hanging. "Four years," he said.

Without hesitation, Jessie put a hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. "That's no time at all. I figure you ain't put her to rest yet, huh?" she asked.

Her understanding confused him. About two years back, he had told this to someone he thought cared, and that female had scoffed at the very idea that he hadn't moved on. Turning his head a little, he glanced at her. "Nope. Not until I find that bitch who had her killed... an' my son." The words became harder and harder to say, and he quickly looked away to hide his emotions from her.

"I reckon you will in time," she said, certainty heavy in her voice. Slipping her hand down his arm, she grabbed his fist and smiled weakly. "Come have some breakfast. You need all the strength you can get," she told him and tugged gently at his arm.

For a moment longer, he just stood there, eyes closed, then he drew in a deep breath and turned to face her fully. "Sorry about this. I ain't usually this emotional," he said with the shadow of a smile on his lips.

"A man's allowed to grieve. An' I believe it ain't no fairytale that the dead can't rest 'til they're avenged. So, it ain't no wonder you're haunted." Her tone of voice was low, her eyes dark, when she said those words.

To Chris, her words came as a kind of revelation. He had never seen it that way before, and he wondered if there was any truth to that. The brutality of Sarah and Adam's murder alone gave her words a certain truth, and he bowed his head in recognition of why he had felt so lousy ever since they'd died. It was a feeling that just didn't want to go away, a constant churning in the pit of his stomach, making him long for oblivion, to get away from the pain. But he couldn't leave this world without avenging his loved ones, and he figured if Jessie was right, the pain would go away once he found Ella Gaines and brought her to justice. Maybe then it would feel more like he'd felt that first day in this place.

Instead of pushing Jessie away like he might push others away, he opened his hand and took hers in his, giving it a squeeze. "Thanks," he whispered. Somehow, he felt like he could face the world again, and it didn't matter how much Jessie looked like Sarah. He would damned well deal with it until he could put his wife and son to rest. Then he'd focus on the rest of his life. Right now, he had a hurt friend to worry about, and he most certainly wasn't going to sit around and wait until Vin was well enough to deal with the situation at hand. He was going to go out and find the Stanford brothers and give them a dose of their own medicine. And when he was done, he would kill them, and once and for all rid the world of the pestilence they were.

+ + + + + + +

It wasn't until late afternoon that Vin finally returned to the land of the living. And once he became aware of his surroundings, he wished to God he hadn't woken up. If pain could be measured on a scale from one to ten, he would be around fifteen. Everything hurt. Just lying there, not moving, barely even breathing, hurt. His back was on fire. His chest felt like it was dented inward and pressing on everything from his heart to his stomach. His right eye felt like it was ready to pop. His mid section hurt ferociously with every breath he took, no matter how shallow. But all those pains and aches were severely overshadowed by the throbbing of his left foot.

Groaning, he tried to move, but even the thought of movement made him queasy. His stomach cramped up, making him fight desperately to keep whatever he might have in his stomach down. He knew how dangerous it was for him to be lying on his back, unable to move, if he threw up. Quite literally, he could drown in his own vomit, but that thought only increased his need to heave.

With the utmost exertion, he rolled onto his side, every fiber of his body screaming in outrage, but he just couldn't allow himself to throw up while lying on his back. As it were, he didn't have anything to throw up from, and so only managed to dry-heave and hurt himself even more. If he'd had the strength, he would have cried out in pain, but he didn't, so he settled for a pained groan instead.

"Hush," a voice whispered near his ear, and something soothing cool pressed against his burning brow. He blinked a few times, trying to force his eye to adjust, and saw the woman from earlier. He had trouble connecting the dots right then and couldn't really remember who she was.

Jessie settled on the edge of the bed and continued to dab the cool, moist cloth against his brow. She didn't need to ask him if he was hurting badly. She just had to look at him to know that for a fact. It took too much strength on his part to stay on his side, and Jessie grabbed his shoulder gently, easing him down onto his back.

Vin just couldn't take much more of this. The pain was tearing him apart, making him wish for a swift death rather than this slow decline. He couldn't stand lying down any more, but just didn't have the strength to sit up. He didn't want to hurt any more, but he just couldn't make it stop. And through it all, he couldn't even voice his fears, his pain.

Being sensitive to others needs, Jessie realized that he might need a change of position. His back needed some air as well, she figured, but he didn't have the strength it took to lie on his side for more than a few minutes, and that just wasn't enough. As gently as she could, she eased him into a sitting position, scooted behind him on the bed, and let him sink onto her lap so he could lie on his side. At the same time she reached down and pulled his legs up a little, giving him the support he needed to stay on his side. The whole process took less than five minutes to arrange and she settled herself comfortably, one hand resting on his shoulder.

For the longest moment he had tensed up, not knowing what to expect from her when she started re-arranging things, but now that he was settled, and found that this position was far more comfortable for his aching muscles and various cuts and bruises, he slowly allowed himself to relax. The fact that nothing touched his back any more was a relief beyond what he had expected. Also, lying on his side removed the weight from his chest, and he could breathe more easily. Jessie had also rearranged the pillows under his injured foot so none of it touched the gashes and, somehow, that made a world of difference. When she at the same time started to caress his hair and hummed what he could only identify as a lullaby, he gave in completely. Unaccustomed to such kindness from strangers, he allowed himself to drift off again, lulled to sleep by her humming and the comfort of someone who cared how he felt. He hadn't had that since childhood.

Jessie continued to hum the lullaby until his breathing became deeper and more rhythmic, telling her that he had fallen asleep. His body radiated heat like a bonfire, and every inch of him she could see was black and blue. Inwardly she cringed at the sight, but that was not something that would reach her eyes or her voice. All she cared about was that this man was in pain and needed something to soothe him. Being all professional and tending to his wounds was one thing, but he also needed someone to tend to his spirit. As she had learned many years ago, there was a little boy in every man and this little boy needed some attention now. She knew how close he had come to shed tears from the pain he was suffering, and she wouldn't have held it against him if he had, but she could also sense how proud he was, and hence she wouldn't encourage him to show a weakness he might find embarrassing. Instead, she took matters into her own hands, and just accommodated him as much as she could without waiting for him to ask.

When Nathan checked in on Vin later, at the same time wondering where Jessie had gotten to, he stopped short at the sight that met him. Jessie gave him a smile, her hand resting gently on Vin's shoulder. Nathan entered the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

"How's he doin'?" he wanted to know, inspecting the seemingly peacefully sleeping tracker.

"He needed to get off that back," she replied. "Seems this is a good position for 'im. He's breathin' much easier."

Nathan nodded. "Or maybe it's just your paste and your brew that worked," he suggested with a vague smile and briefly checked Vin's brow for fever. "Seems his fever's breakin', too," he added.

Jessie merely continued to smile. "I reckon he just can't go on bein' sick. He gotta start healin' sometime," she said.

Nathan was a little concerned for her. She couldn't keep sitting there. "Can I get you somethin'?" he wanted to know.

"Nah," she said quietly. "We'll prop 'im up with pillows. I need to make 'im somethin' to eat anyway." But, despite her words, she didn't move, only leaned her head back against the wall.

It was with no small amount of surprise that Nathan realized that she was probably enjoying this a little. Well, he wouldn't begrudge her getting a little something out of having the house full of strangers. "I'll look in on you in a bit," he said and left the room as quietly as he had entered.

Once the door was closed, he shook his head. This woman had a grasp on these pigheaded men that he could only dream of. She had even managed to convince Chris to take the load off and sleep for a bit. The fact that the gunslinger had been out for several hours already was a sign that he wasn't really up to facing the woes of hunting down the Stanford brothers the following morning. Having learned from sometimes bitter experience, though, Nathan knew that their fearless leader would be up and about at the crack of dawn, ready to kick butt with the best of them. And he didn't envy those brothers their last day in this world. Chris was pissed enough for all of them put together, and nobody and nothing got in his way when he was this angry. Except perhaps for Buck, the healer figured.

The Following Morning

Beavis was skittish to the extreme, obviously wanting nothing more than to just get the hell out while he still could, when Buck guided the horse into the messy yard in front of the Stanford homestead. The big cowboy wasn't oblivious to the animal's nervousness, but since he couldn't see anything that might be causing it, he chose to ignore it for the time being.

"Yo, anybody here?" Buck hollered, boisterous as usual. There was no reply, no reaction. Frowning, he looked around the yard, wondering what those brothers were up to.

"What'cha be wantin'?" a voice drawled from behind him.

Buck turned in the saddle to send a look behind him, and grinned almost viciously at the oldest Stanford brother. "You Jake?" he asked and the kid, not a day older than J.D., nodded with suspicion in his eyes. Buck dismounted and turned to face the scrawny thing, having to muster all of his abilities to keep on smiling. Most of all he wanted to pull his gun and blow this kid away. "I'm lookin' for some friends o' mine. You seen anyone around?" he asked, jovial as always.

Jake's eyes narrowed. "Nah, ain't seen nobody around," he claimed, not experienced enough to see Buck as a threat.

Buck glanced around, seemingly interested in the yard, then focused on the kid again, and took one step toward him, lashed out and grabbed him by the shirtfront. "That's not what my friends said," he snarled. "You messed 'em up real good, runt, and I ain't in the mood to hear no bitchin' from you about how it was called for."

Jake was slow enough to not respond for a few seconds. Then he tried to squirm out of Buck's grip, finding that utterly impossible. "Le'me go," he squealed like a stung pig.

"And why would I do that, huh?" Buck snapped, his other hand closing around the throat of that little rat. "You ain't goin' nowhere. Ever again."

"Buck, ease up." Chris' voice was hard as steel, but the hardness wasn't directed at his friend. It was directed at the runt squirming in Bucks' grip. "He's mine," he growled and swung off his horse with frightening ease, considering the beating he had taken two days ago.

Buck swirled the kid around, holding onto him so he couldn't fight back. "Face your damnation, boy," he thundered, sounding much like some kind of doomsday preacher predicting the end of the world.

Chris didn't spare Buck a glance, but stopped in front of Jake, and gazed down at him with cold eyes. "Remember me, boy?" he asked, his voice as frigid as his stare.

Jake did have sense enough the shrink before that glare, but he didn't cower enough in Chris' opinion, which earned him a fist in the face. The blow was strong enough to knock loose what little teeth he had left.

"You damned near killed my friend, you little bastard," Chris growled. "Release him, Buck. I'm gonna shoot him when he runs away."

Buck raised one hand, acting all upset about that suggestion. "Now, hold on, pard. You never said nothin' about shootin' no kids," he droned, winking at Chris, who in turn didn't find the situation anywhere near as hilarious as Buck did. When Buck met Chris' stare, he suddenly realized that this was no longer a game. Chris wasn't out to scare this scrawny scarecrow of a boy, he was going to kill him.

Pushing Jake Stanford aside without releasing his hold on him, Buck took a step toward his friend, seeing all the signs of the cold-blooded killer that Chris had become. When Chris made a move to lunge for the boy, Buck stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Now, just a god damn minute, Chris. We got more 'n enough on them here boys to send 'em to jail for the rest of their miserable lives. You ain't gonna kill nobody," he said, his tone of voice tense. "That'd be cold-blooded murder."

Chris was livid, ready to put a bullet in his friend if he didn't get out of his way, but Josiah chose that moment to intervene, grabbing Chris' right wrist when he pulled his weapon, and preventing him from shooting a friend. "This is not the way to do it, brother," he said calmly. "Vin wouldn't do it this way, and nor should you."

Grinding his teeth in utter frustration, Chris backed down. There was nothing he wanted more than to shoot that kid right where he stood, but he figured they ought to hand the brothers over to the authorities and be done with it.

Josiah grabbed the jittery kid by the shoulder and glanced at Buck in one go. "Go round up the others," he suggested.

Happy to be out of the line of fire, Buck retreated and soon found the three other brothers. They weren't bright enough to hide very well, and he figured they'd turned out this bad not only because of inbreeding, but because they didn't have any adults around to teach them how to behave. When he returned to the yard with the three brothers in tow, he noted that Chris hadn't moved an inch. Josiah, on the other hand, had tied the oldest kid's hands behind his back and was still holding onto him.

Buck had tied the three younger brothers together, and Josiah relinquished his hold on the oldest so Buck could add him to the line. While the big cowboy was busying himself with that inane little task, Josiah went over to Chris, keeping a respectful distance to the gunslinger. "There's nothin' wrong with bein' angry, brother, but killin' them doesn't do the trick. You're a smart man. You know that," he said matter-of-fact-like.

Chris exhaled sharply and let his shoulders slump a little, but the tenseness didn't leave his posture. "Just get 'em away from me," he growled, still not turning around. Instead, he grabbed Pony's reins, swung himself into the saddle and gave both Josiah and Buck a dead-on stare. "Get 'em to jail and send the judge a message. I want 'em outta Four Corners before I get back," he said darkly, swung the big black around and raced out of the farm yard like a dark demon.

Glancing back over his shoulder, Josiah gave Buck a puzzled look. "Isn't he a bit too angry about this?" he asked. There wasn't much in this world he didn't understand or couldn't at least claim to see the sense in, but Chris Larabee was a hard man to get to know.

Buck just stared at the spot where Chris had vanished, then shook his head. "It ain't got nothin' to do with anger. It got somethin' to do with friends and family. He got very close to losin' Vin and he don't like that at all. 'Specially when the threat's from runts like these," he explained. "Let's get 'em outta here so we can get 'em outta town as fast as possible. I ain't happy about the rush, but I ain't takin' the blame neither if Chris comes back and finds 'em there."

Josiah got that point pretty clearly. Chris would shoot them on sight. At least that was the immediate threat. What happened once the man had calmed down a little was a completely different issue. With a shrug, he got on his horse and took the rope tying the brothers together when Buck handed it to him and mounted his own horse. Beavis was still skittish and Buck briefly wondered about that, but paid it no more mind. It wasn't like they'd come back to this place.

+ + + + + + +

Chris had intended to keep going until Pony would run no further, but his increasing headache and growing bad conscience got the better of him, and he veered off toward Jessie Landon's farm again, wanting to make sure Vin was going to be alright before he went out and drank himself into a stupor. Damn, how he hated it when he lost it like that. He couldn't see reason, couldn't even understand what others said to him, when the bloodlust was upon him. All he had wanted to do was blow those bastards to Kingdom Come for what they had done to Vin. He didn't give a damn about his own bruises, his own headache. It was the fact that Vin had nearly died under their relentless beatings that made him furious. To lose someone he cared about was just not in the books these days. He would never be able to live with it if he let it happen again, and Vin had become more than a friend. He was like a brother to him now.

When he finally pulled into the yard in front of Jessie's house, he was pale as a ghost, a sheen of sweat covering his face and neck. He felt anything but good, and realized that maybe he shouldn't have gone with Buck and Josiah to catch those boys. But he had been the only one who could show them where they lived.

Getting off his horse proved to be more of a challenge than he had thought, and he realized that the tea Jessie had given him in the morning had worn off rather quickly this time. She had warned him about that possibility, and he felt marginally embarrassed that he had put her good advice to shame. Heaving a deep breath, he steadied himself enough to walk over to the porch, where he tied up Pony and climbed the two steps. He had barely managed that before the door swung open.

Jessie stopped at the sight of him, realizing instantly that he was in worse shape than even she had thought. It had been sheer stubbornness and pigheadedness that had kept him going this far. But that had apparently worn off somewhere along the way. "Mr. Larabee," she said, but before she could say more, he stumbled over his own feet and slammed into the doorframe, nearly falling over. She managed to grab him before it came to that, though. "Mr. Jackson," she called out, struggling to keep Chris upright.

Nathan came running out and made a face when he saw what had happened. "I told 'im it was too early," he grumbled and helped Jessie get Chris inside, where they eased him onto a chair. Jessie got him a glass of water and managed to get him to drink a little of it before he pushed her hand away.

"Chris, I ain't one to fuss, but this ain't the best move you ever made," Nathan said, his expression stern. "We both told you not to go out this early."

With a snort, Chris took the glass from Jessie and downed the rest of it, then closed his eyes and leaned back on the chair to regain his composure. "Ain't nobody's fault but my own," he growled. "Now, gimme some peace, healer."

Jessie glanced at Nathan, who looked about ready to give up, then turned her attention to Chris, putting her hands on her hips, and giving him a glare. "Mr. Larabee," she said, her tone making him open his eyes and squint at her in surprise. "You ain't in no condition to sit around here. You need to be in bed."

Giving her his trademark glare, he leaned forward a little. "Mrs. Landon. As I said before, I appreciate your help, but this is none o' your concern."

"Bullshit," she snapped, startling him into silence by her crude choice of words. "As long as you're under my roof and in my care, you do as I say. Now, march, off to bed," she thundered, pointing toward the corridor. "I ain't gonna say it twice. Move!"

Nathan was slightly worried about the outcome of her outburst. He had seen Chris shoot men for less. But, to his great surprise, the gunslinger rose and, with a definite sneer, staggered down the corridor to the room Jessie had given him with her hot on his heels.

Chris wanted to argue, wanted to be upset and downright angry about the way she talked to him, but he just couldn't muster the strength. And, in general, he had to agree with her. He eased himself down on the bed and just sat there for a moment, eyes closed. Then he sighed deeply, kicked his boots off, undid his belt and stretched out on the bed, wishing his headache would just go away.

Jessie settled down on the edge and pressed a cool hand against his brow. "You need your rest," she told him in no uncertain terms. "Ain't ever done nobody no good to be foolish about somethin' like a bump on the head."

He almost groaned at her continued correctional tone of voice. "Just leave it be, alright?" he told her, briefly opening his eyes to convey the message that she should back off more effectively. "I ain't no kid and I don't need no nursemaid."

That made her smile, the contrary reaction he had aimed for. "If you ain't, how come you behave like one?" she wanted to know, still smiling. "I ain't tellin' you what you can do, Mr. Larabee. I ain't your ma. But you're stubborn, and stubborn can get you killed. And I don't reckon Mr. Tanner would take too kindly to that."

For a long moment, he considered her words, trying to think clearly through the thundering in his head, but eventually had to admit defeat, which he did with a heavy sigh. "How's Vin doin'?" he wanted to know.

"He's still hurtin', but he's gettin' better," she replied and rose again. "Now, you get some sleep. You ain't in no condition to go gallopin' around the countryside, let alone hunt down them Stanford brothers."

That made him smile. She might claim to not be his mother, but she sure acted like it at times. "They won't be botherin' nobody again," he said and draped an arm over his face, fatigue finally taking over.

Jessie shook her head and left him in peace so he could get some rest. She walked down the corridor to the last door and opened it quietly to take a peek inside. Vin was awake, lying on his side, but he didn't move when she opened the door and he figured she would leave again if she thought he was asleep. But she didn't. Jessie entered and stopped at the foot of the bed, arms folded over her chest, regarding him thoughtfully. All his wounds were taken care of and kept clean by both herself and Nathan, and she had even managed to get him to eat a little. Jessie was certain that he would come through this one just fine, and it pleased her to see that her treatments had helped him already. His black eye was no longer swollen and he could open it again.

"How're you feelin'?" she asked after a moment.

Vin blinked a little sluggishly. She kept him mostly pain-free with lots of her tea and various other herbal mixtures she had learned about from her grandfather, and he was deeply grateful for that. But the dosage of the herbs was so high, that it affected his ability to stay awake. Not that it really bothered him. Moving was out of the question, and he didn't really have much else to do than sleep. "Fine," he rasped weakly.

That made her smile. "Fine you ain't," she assured him. "Not yet. But you will be." Settling on the edge of the bed, she brushed her fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. "I ain't said this to many men, Mr. Tanner, but you're very tough. Ain't seen many men survive a beatin' like that."

Too tired to really show any response to her words, he soaked them up nonetheless. It wasn't often that he heard words like those, even though he knew that at least Chris considered him tough. But hearing it from a woman made a world of difference to him. "Been there before," he mumbled, wanting her to understand that this wasn't a big deal.

Jessie arched an eyebrow at that comment, then sighed. He probably had been there before, she mused. And that was what made this whole thing so unbearable.

Four Corners

Buck and Josiah had safely deposited the Stanford brothers in jail, and Buck had wired the judge to come get them, the sooner the better. All they could do then was kick back and relax until that actually happened or until Chris returned, which Buck doubted would be for a while. They had left J.D. to look after the prisoners before retreating to the saloon to get a well-earned drink.

J.D. stood in front of the cells, looking from one brother to the other, disgusted by the way they looked, and even more so by the way they behaved toward each other.

Jake Stanford stared back at J.D., murder in his eyes. "You jist wait, boy," he said in a low tone of voice. "If I git outta here, you's dead."

J.D. raised an eyebrow, recalling a lesson Josiah had taught him not too long ago about not antagonizing others any more than necessary. If he kept his mouth shut in this instant, Jake Stanford would look the fool. It very nearly made him smile as he turned around and walked over to his desk, settled down on his chair and picked up the dimestore novel he had bought a few days back, not even granting Jake a second look. Instead he put his booted feet up on the desk, leaned back on his chair and engrossed himself in the novel. But his attention never really left the prisoners.

Jake glowered at him for a moment, then turned his attention to his three brothers in the other cell when one of them started whining.

"Ah, shucks," Jed groaned. "What's them others gonna do now?"

Jake's eyes narrowed. "Shut up," he snarled, sending his brother an angry glare.

But Jed was really worried and it showed on his face quite clearly. "But, Jake, what's them others gonna do if we ain't around to tend 'em and all? They's gonna starve."

Sending a hasty glance toward J.D., who was still reading his novel, he waved Jed over. As soon as his younger brother was within reach, Jake grabbed his shirtfront and yanked him hard against the bars, nearly knocking him out. "I told you to shut up, you idiot," he snarled.

J.D. pretended not to listen, but he would have heard them even if he had been occupied with something other than just sitting around reading. After a moment, he yawned heartily, stretched his arms over his head, and then put the novel away before rising from his chair again. "You boys behave yourselves. I just gotta go take care o' some business," he said, rattling the keys he was taking with him before leaving the jail. As soon as the door had closed behind him, he sprinted over to the saloon to find Buck, Josiah and Ezra. Whatever that Stanford brother had meant, he figured there might be others caught on their farm.

+ + + + + + +

Buck wasn't a happy man. With all that had been going on lately, he was starting to feel real annoyed with the whole thing, once again wondering if it was really worth all the trouble they got into all of the time. Nursing a glass of whiskey, he stared at the amber liquid with a solemnness rare for him, while Josiah sat across from him, his expression more thoughtful than usual.

Ezra was once again playing poker with a man who should have been no match for him, but his preoccupation interfered with his ability to outwit his opponents, and when he lost the third game in a row, he quit and went over to join his companions for a quiet, contemplative drink. He had barely raised the first glass to his lips before J.D. came barging in, nearly taking the doors off their hinges in the process.

"Buck," the boy spurted out, a little out of breath. "I overheard 'em talkin'."

Buck looked up at him and frowned a little. "So? I can't remember tellin' 'em not to," he replied, interrupting J.D. before he could continue.

"It ain't that, Buck," J.D. said, having regained his breath. "One of 'em was talkin' about others that were gonna starve. Sounded to me like they got more people on their farm."

Buck turned his attention to Josiah, who looked rather interested. "You reckon they could've?" he asked.

"Only one way to find out," Josiah said with a shrug and rose.

"You stay in town, J.D. Someone's gotta look after our interests here," Buck said, rising too.

"Aw, damn," J.D. said, all disappointed. "I ain't no little kid, Buck. I can look after myself."

Buck made a face. "I ain't getting into that discussion with you again, kid. You're stayin' and that's final," he growled.

"You are the sheriff, after all," Ezra intoned. "Someone has to bield the town." J.D. gave him a strange look and Ezra sighed dramatically. "Protect. Someone has to protect the town. Is that not what you were hired for, sheriff?"

That did the trick. J.D. nodded, all business. "Of course," he said.

Ezra glanced at Buck and Josiah, who both gave him grateful glances. J.D. could be a handful when he didn't want to be left behind. But, Ezra was right. He was the sheriff and should stay in town. "Shall we, gentlemen?" Ezra asked.

"Might as well," Buck agreed and the three of them walked out, leaving J.D. behind.

The Stanford Farm

At a cursory glance, the farm had little to offer. There was the barn, a rickety construction, which looked about ready to tumble over at the slightest gust of wind, and the main house, which was big enough to have housed a big family with grandparents attached. The windows on the first floor were boarded shut, though, and it gave the whole building the look of having been unused for years.

The yard was cluttered, the grass growing high, only leaving narrow paths from the house to the barn and to the path leading out of the forest toward the road to the South.

Beavis had been skittish before, but now the horse was downright scared. Buck reined him in as tightly as he dared without hurting the big grey and murmured quietly to him, trying to calm him down. "Easy, boy. Easy."

Chester was steadier, a calmer horse altogether, but even he scraped the ground continuously with one hoof, nodding his head nervously, while Ezra watched the sorrel with a frown. "He has never shown such obvious distaste for any area before," he said and glanced around. "Not that I blame him, mind you. This is, by far, the most repugnant farm house I have ever had the displeasure of settin' my eyes on."

Josiah dismounted first, giving Quincy a surprised look when the sorrel horse neighed and gave a brief tuck at the reins. Running a big hand over his nose, Josiah stared into the horse's eyes. "There's something out here that spooks 'em," he said, stating the obvious.

With a growl and a silent curse, Buck dismounted as well, and led Beavis over to the far end of the yard to tie him up to the branch of a tree. "No reason to spook 'em more than necessary," he said, patting the grey's neck. "You just stay here, you hear?" he told the horse, who whinnied in reply. "Let's take a look around," he added to his companions and strode over toward the farm house.

"You have to be jokin'," Ezra said with distaste in his voice. "I assure you, I am not goin' anywhere near that foul concentration of putrefyin' wood."

Buck stopped with one foot on the first step leading up to the porch and glanced back at him. "Get over here, Ezra. I ain't sayin' it twice," he threatened.

The Southerner gave him a disgusted look, but did dismount Chester and, after straightening his jacket, walked across the yard to where Buck was waiting. "This was not what I had in mind when I woke up this mornin'," he confessed.

"Ain't what I had in mind, neither," Buck countered. "Don't mean we can weasel our way outta this now," he added, a hint of a threat in his voice.

Ezra rolled his eyes at that, settling for straightening his cuffs instead of replying to such an obvious insult.

Apprehensive about what they would find, the three men climbed the two steps to the porch and opened the door to the farm house. The first thing that met them was a foul stench of stuffy air, dirt and an underlying odor none of them could readily identify. Ezra pulled a handkerchief from one pocket to cover his mouth and nose before following Buck and Josiah inside.

"The good Lord has not endowed these brothers with much wisdom," Josiah said quietly as they glanced around what seemed like the main room of the house. It was big, dark and disgustingly dirty. There were old plates sitting on chairs, tables and the likes, with mold growing on whatever edible remains had been left on them. An old couch, probably quite valuable in its glory days, was crawling with maggots, a fact that almost caused Ezra to lose his composure and rush back outside. Rather than embarrass himself, he quickly turned his back on the vile sight.

"Ain't that the truth," Buck agreed, looking nearly as disgusted as Ezra. "Let's take a look around and then get outta here," he added, making a sweeping gesture toward the room.

Most of all, Ezra just wanted to return to the relatively fresh air outside, but he figured Buck would do something nasty to him if he didn't stick around. Nothing short of throwing up all over the place would mellow the man, and Ezra wasn't about to do that just to get out of the house faster. But the smell certainly was overpowering, even through the lightly perfumed handkerchief he had acquired from a lady of rather questionable reputation. Not that he was too concerned about such matters when it came down to it. He was a man, after all.

Disgust aside, he couldn't help finding this house of horrors slightly interesting. There were remnants of valuable paintings still hanging on the walls, combined with golden vases and the likes on the floor and on whatever piece of furniture the brothers hadn't used for firewood yet, all too tarnished to catch the eye of anyone short of an expert. And he certainly did consider himself to be that. Yet he still proceeded with apprehension, uncertain of what he was really supposed to be looking for. At least until he opened a door and was virtually knocked back a step by the stench of rotting flesh, which wafted up from the basement below. "Oh, dear lord," he gasped. Despite the semidarkness of the room at the foot of the rickety-looking stairs, he didn't need more light to see the source of the stench.

Buck and Josiah could not have missed his outburst of pure disgust if they had tried and hurried over to see what he had found. Josiah settled for making a face while Buck clapped both hands in front of his mouth and nose to block out the smell.

With a serious expression, the ex-preacher stared down at the rotting remains of what looked like at least six bodies at the foot of the stairs, all of them lying in a heap. "The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," he said quietly, folding his hands. "He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies; thou anointest my head with oil,

my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the ord for ever." Making the sign of the cross, he bowed his head. "Amen."

"Amen, brother," Buck intoned.

Ezra remained silent, staring down at the bodies for a moment longer, then he reached out and quietly closed the door. "I do believe that there is nothin' further we can do for these poor souls, gentlemen," he said darkly.

The two other men nodded solemnly and they headed back outside, where Ezra finally lowered the handkerchief from his face and sighed. "Dear lord, I do not believe my olfactory sense has ever been beleaguered by a more abject effluvium," he said and shook his head sadly. "Nor have I ever perceived higher pathos than this."

Buck gave him a strange look. "I do swear, half the time I ain't got a clue what he's sayin'," he said and readjusted his hat.

Josiah merely raised an eyebrow with slight bemusement and patted Buck's shoulder. "I do believe that this should be enough proof to hang the whole bunch of 'em. I suggest we do nothin' until the judge arrives. He will want to see this," he said.

The Landon Homestead

Chris figured he had suffered a slight setback in his recovery, but learned the hard way that the setback was more than slight. He was dizzy to the extreme and found it very hard to keep his eyes open most of the time. Light bothered him beyond reason and the thought of food made him queasy. All in all, he actually felt worse than before. Jessie Landon showed no mercy, though. She was indifferent to his suffering, or so he thought, and bossed him around like only his mother would have dared to. There wasn't a man left alive in the world who had ever spoken to him the way she did. Whether he was simply feeling too lousy to do anything about it or there was another reason, he couldn't tell. It didn't really matter, though.

"Would you please let me get some sleep?" he snapped at her when she came in for the umpteenth time, waking him up to get him to drink something. "I ain't thirsty and I ain't hungry."

Jessie regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then sat down on the edge of the bed and pressed her palm against his brow for a second. "You got a fever," she told him. "On top o' everythin' else. You couldn't just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" With a sigh, she shook her head. "Men! You're all alike. I ain't never met one who didn't behave like a baby most o' the time."

It was with an outstanding amount of patience that he refrained from removing her bodily from the room. The last thing he needed was a lecture. Especially from a sprout like her. She couldn't be a day over twenty-five, he figured, and that made her a kid in his opinion. Gifted healer or not, she was a pest. Groaning, he pressed both hands against his face and murmured a curse, which would have made Buck pale.

Jessie wasn't impressed, though. "You got a concussion. If it's bad enough, it can kill you. This ain't no jokin' matter, Mr. Larabee. This is dead serious."

Letting his hands drop away from his face, he gave her a grave stare. "Am I laughin'?" he asked tersely. "All I wanna do is sleep, alright?"

Realizing that maybe she was handling him wrong, Jessie glanced down at her hands lying limply in her lap. "I'm sorry for disturbin' you, but I gotta make sure you ain't dyin' on me," she said and looked up again.

Her tone of voice alone made him feel lousy about snapping at her. She had, after all, opened up her home to all of them. She had helped them when they needed help and here he was, making her life miserable by behaving like an idiot. With another groan, he draped an arm over his face. He wasn't much for apologizing, but he figured he owed her that much. Before he could pull himself together, though, she had risen and left the room again. "Great," he muttered. On top of everything else, his conscience was bugging him now.

With an effort, he hauled himself off the bed and had to use the furniture to steady himself against, so he didn't fall flat on his face. Embarrassment aside, he didn't relish the feeling of not being able to do things for himself. He had been hurt worse than this, had been wounded and beaten to within an inch of his life. And yet he couldn't seem to find his feet again after this disaster of a rescue mission he had gone on.

When he reached the door, he stopped for a moment, eyes closed, head down, to regain his composure. He felt nauseous enough to make him reconsider his actions and it only took him a moment to make up his mind about the futility of this trip. He needed to lie down and he needed to do it right now. Turning, he blinked rapidly to clear his wavering vision, but found that his eyes did not want to focus. Fortunately, he had a pretty good sense of direction, and managed to get back to the bed without falling. Stretching out on the mattress once more, he closed his eyes again to rest his aching head. His rolling stomach slowly settled down and he eventually sighed with relief when the nausea also passed. He figured Jessie would look in on him again a bit later and that would be soon enough for an apology.

+ + + + + + +

Jessie returned to the common room and settled down on her favorite chair to do some thinking. This was quite a change from being all alone most of the time to being overrun by seven men all of a sudden. The morning that Chris and Vin had turned up on her doorstep had signaled a sudden change in her otherwise rather static existence in more ways than one. Usually she didn't find men terribly attractive, mainly because most of them were big babies and seemingly couldn't exist without having to prove themselves to everything and everybody all the time. She had seen that in her father, a typical, white buffalo hunter, who had succumbed to his own ideals much too early in his life, leaving her mother to fend for herself and her three children. Her mother had not wanted to return to her tribe, which had let her down, she claimed. She had married a white man and she would remain his wife for the rest of her life. At the tender age of thirty-five, Jessie's mother had died of consumption and had left Jessie's older brother, then sixteen, in charge of the household.

When William had figured that Jessie would be old enough to take care of their baby sister, Lea, he had taken off to be whatever he could be with the limited education he had received. He had surprised not only Jessie and Lea, but also himself with his abilities, and was now working as a lawyer in Kansas somewhere.

Lea had left once she was old enough to fend for herself, and Jessie had never worried about her progress. She heard from her regularly and knew that her baby sister was having a great time in Culver City. She was a man-eater, as William put it. No man was safe when Lea was around.

With a smile on her lips, Jessie reminisced about her siblings, about her past, and while she did that, she remembered more about her grandfather, too. A proud man, he had taught her what he knew before he had died. His offer to reintroduce her to her tribe had gone unnoticed, though, and since Jessie couldn't remember the tribe's name nor actually wanted to be an Indian squaw, she had let it slide, and once the old man had died, it had been too late.

"Mrs. Landon."

Nathan's voice interrupted her and she looked up at him, still smiling. "Yes, Mr. Jackson?" She liked Nathan. He had a calmness about him that she so sorely missed in other people. It was as if he had faced his destiny and was content with what he had seen. She marveled at the fact that he was able to feel this way about the world despite all he had seen and all that had happened to him. She knew without question that he had once been a slave, and there was nothing in the world that pained her more than thinking of the suffering he must have gone through. And, despite that, and the obvious prejudice he would be subjected to, he was still a benevolent man with a heart of gold.

"I just checked in on Chris. He's asleep," he said and sat down across from her. "Vin's fever has broken. I changed the bandages on his foot. It looks better. What'd you do?"

"Just a little shaman secret," she said and shook her head with a smile. "Just kiddin'. Nah, it ain't nothin' special. Just more o' that paste. It works. Why not use it?"

Nathan couldn't help smiling. She was very considerate and seemed to have a lot of skills he lacked. "I reckon you got enough to do with this farm, huh?" he wanted to know. "Otherwise I'd be tempted to ask for your help."

Arching an eyebrow, Jessie leaned forward a little. "My help?" she asked.

"Four Corners ain't too far away from here, and if you wouldn't mind, there's a lot of folks who could need some tendin' to, who'd rather have a woman do it than a man," Nathan explained. "Especially the ladies."

"Actually, I've been wantin' to do something other than just sit around here all day," she confessed. "There ain't no crops on this land no more. I ain't much of a farmer, so there ain't much for me to do here anyway."

For a moment, he allowed himself to hope that she would indeed go for the offer. But he feared she wouldn't bother once he told her there was no money involved. "Well, I ain't got much in ways o' money, ma'am. I wouldn't be able to pay you nothin'," he said, already dismissing the idea as silly.

That made Jessie chuckle lightly. "I ain't interested in the money, Mr. Jackson. I got plenty to last me a lifetime," she said. "No, I'd be wantin' to do it to help."

Smiling at her selflessness, he couldn't help thinking about the other women in town, and how little they'd be willing to do for others. There were a few, like Mrs. Travis, who were helpful enough, but the majority of those women would never lend him a helping hand. Although they accepted his presence, and were willing to let him help when they were sick, they wouldn't do him any favors. Prejudice there was plenty of, and it warmed his heart to find an open mind like hers out here in the middle of nowhere. "I'd be much obliged for any help you could give me," he finally said.

"Certainly, Mr. Jackson. There ain't nothin' I'd rather do," she replied and settled back on her chair again.

"It's rare," he confessed, "findin' someone like you out here."

Jessie pursed her lips in thoughtful contemplation at his words. "Don't forget, Mr. Jackson. I ain't as white as them women in town, neither. I may have had a white daddy, but my mamma was pure Indian and looked it every bit, too. I figure I'd be the last to say somethin' about anyone."

"Still," Nathan insisted. "It ain't every day I come across a woman who'd be willin' to help others for nothin'."

"What a sorry state people are in, eh?" she asked with a smile. "I reckon it's about time I got some supper ready. I got a feelin' that Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Wilmington will be turnin' up before long."

"Don't forget J.D. and Ezra. Mr. Standish, I believe, has never turned down a free meal," Nathan said and rose with her. "Can I help?"

"Why, certainly. Thank you kindly."

Four Corners

Buck growled in dissatisfaction. He was hungry, but not for the type of food served in town. Not in the places he could afford, that was. He figured there was only one place he could go where the food tasted like it should. Although he hadn't known Jessie Landon long enough to have sampled all of her cooking, he was certain that this copper-skinned beauty could do no wrong when it came to the culinary skills. And after having been lucky enough to have tasted her cooking twice already, he found himself longing for more.

"What's the matter, my friend?" Josiah asked, glancing at him over the edge of the book he was reading.

Before Buck could answer that question, Ezra came into the saloon and steered right towards them. "Gentlemen, I do believe it would be advisable to check up on our friends away from home," he said.

Buck glanced up at him, then sent Josiah a look. "Might be a good idea, eh?" he asked. "I mean, it ain't like there's much happenin' in town."

Josiah regarded him solemnly for a moment. "Are you suggesting we leave J.D. behind to watch over the Stanford brothers?" he wanted to know.

Buck deflated almost instantly and slumped back in his chair. "I reckon not," he grumbled and sighed heavily.

For a moment, the ex-preacher watched him squirm, then he smiled a benevolent smile. "Why don't I relieve brother Dunne? You three can ride out and check up on our wounded friends," he suggested, well aware what drew Buck out there. And he figured it wasn't so much Chris and Vin as it was the lady of the house and her culinary abilities.

Immediately, Buck brightened. "You serious?" he asked, halfway out of the chair already. "I mean... you ain't hungry or nothin'?"

"Nope," Josiah said and rose, too. "I need to catch up on some readin' anyway."

The Landon Homestead

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Vin woke up without feeling that he had been crushed beneath a ton of boulders. Lying on his side as he was, his breathing was a lot easier than it had been in a while and, although he was still pretty sore, he had felt worse.

Opening his eyes was an effort, but he did notice that he could open both of them without too much trouble, and that he could see with both. Recent events were a little unclear to him at this point. He could remember a woman, but couldn't place her. He only remembered that Chris had called her their guardian angel.

The memories of how he had come to this point washed over him, and he gritted his teeth in anguish. He'd had run-ins with people like the Stanfords before, but never to the point where they had beaten him to a pulp just for the heck of it. Most of them settled for taking a shot at him. Bullet wounds he could deal with. They were painful, yes, but the impact it had on him was usually over very quickly, and although he had to spend time healing, he didn't suffer from side effects for too long. This, however, was different. He had been in pain before, but never like this. The relentless beatings had worn him down very quickly, draining what little strength he had left after getting his foot foolishly stuck in that trap.

Raising his head a little, he glanced down at his foot, still propped up on a big pillow to keep it elevated. While in the less than gentle care of the Stanford brothers, he had wanted so badly to put it up, to lessen the pressure on the wound, but the brothers hadn't allowed him enough time to regain his composure so he could free himself. And then, when he had realized that they had gotten Chris as well, he had almost lost it. It was one thing that he suffered for whatever injustice the brothers believed he had done them. He could deal with that. But that one of his friends had to suffer too, that really tore into him.

Well, Chris had gotten him out, hadn't he? At great expense to himself too. Vin didn't remember anything too clearly of the past many days, but he did remember how battered Chris had looked. Closing his eyes again, he tried to rid himself of the guilt welling up in him like stagnant water from an old well, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't lose the feeling. "Damn," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

"What's the matter? You hurtin'?"

That voice came out of nowhere and startled him. Turning his head, he glanced over his shoulder to find Nathan sitting on a chair on the other side of the bed. The healer had obviously been watching over him. "Nothin' I can't handle," he replied and let his head drop back down on the pillow again. He felt weak like a baby, a feeling he didn't like one bit.

Nathan came around to the other side of the bed to get a better look at the younger man. What he saw made him smile. "You gotta be feelin' better," he said. "Ain't seen that look for a bit."

Vin made a face and shifted a little, careful not to move too much out of fear that it would renew the debilitating pain he had suffered the past few days. "Ain't felt much like givin' it, neither," he replied and smiled back at Nathan.

"I know someone who's gonna be real happy to see you back among the livin'," Nathan said. "You hungry?"

Vin tried to assess whether he was or not, and finally nodded. "Starvin'. Ain't you been feedin' me?" he wanted to know, shifting again. The movement was a little too fast, a little too much, and he gritted his teeth, groaning.

Nathan grabbed his shoulder, all concerned again. "You alright?" he asked.

Vin nodded. "Yeah, just moved too fast," he replied, his tone of voice a little strained.

A little concerned about that comment, Nathan straightened. In his opinion, the young tracker had hardly moved at all. "Well, I'll see if I can't get our gracious hostess to fix you somethin' to eat. She's real good at cookin'," he finally said, pushing his concerns aside for now. It might just be that Vin wasn't up to speed at all and needed time to regain his composure.

"Sounds good to me," Vin replied, giving Nathan a shadow of his trademark grin. The healer left him alone and Vin was grateful for it. That meant he could give vent to the pain. Turning his head, he pressed his face into the pillow and managed little more than a grunt. His shifting had brought his injured foot in contact with the pillow and that had hurt a little too much. He felt much like clawing his fingers into the wound to make it stop hurting so badly, but knew that it wouldn't do him a bit of good.

Before he could consider any other silly notions like that, a cool hand settled on his calf, making him raise his head promptly to stare at their benefactor. Without a word, she pulled the pillow up a bit, removing the pressure from the wound and thereby granting him immediate relief. "You probably shouldn't move too much," she said and gave him a smile.

Vin stared at her, caught somewhere between wanting to remain mum because he had no idea what to say to her, and thanking her profusely. She was just about the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes on and, as usual when he was in the presence of such stunning beauty, his throat closed up and he simply couldn't say a word even if his life depended on it. He hated the helpless heat rising in his cheeks and hoped desperately that she would mistake it for a feverish blush rather than what it truly was.

Jessie eyed him for a second, then pressed the back of one hand against his brow. He wasn't feverish any more. Nathan had told her that, and she placed great faith in his abilities, but she also knew embarrassment when she saw it. And finding young men in want of words in her presence wasn't anything new to her. She had learned to deal with it in any given situation. "You're a little hot, still," she said. That wasn't a lie. His skin was hot, but not feverish. "Mr. Jackson suggested you might be hungry. What would you like?"

With every word she said, he got more and more embarrassed by the fact that he couldn't find his voice. It was a curse that it had to be such a struggle every time. A woman like Mary Travis he could talk to. Charlotte Richmond had also been easy to talk to. So, why was this one any different? Well, he knew the answer to that question, didn't he? She was beautiful and kind and, if he wasn't entirely mistaken, also single.

Jessie smiled, fully aware of his predicament. "Well, I'll just fix you somethin' light. No need to overdo it on the first day, eh?" she asked and straightened again. Assuring herself that he was as comfortable as his present situation could make him, she turned around and left the room again.

For a second, Vin remained motionless. Then he pressed his face back into the pillow and groaned deeply. What was it about single women he couldn't get past? Was it the fact that they were single and hence would prove to be a responsibility he would have to take on if things got serious? He didn't believe that was the case since he'd been more than willing to take on Charlotte Richmond. But, then again, he had also known somehow that she wouldn't leave her husband when it came down to it.

+ + + + + + +

Chris sat at the table in the common room, arms crossed on the table top, his forehead resting on his arms. Jessie gave him a glance in passing, wondering what he was doing out of bed when he had nearly collapsed on her no more than a few hours earlier. "What are you doin' out o' bed?" she asked while starting to gather various things to prepare a light lunch for Vin.

Chris raised his head, blinked heavily a few times, then focused on her. "I ain't sick," he insisted. "I ain't stayin' in bed if I ain't sick."

That made her roll her eyes. Damn, this man was stubborn. Turning around to face him, she propped her hands up on her hips and gave him a narrow stare. "You ain't getting well if you ain't stayin' in bed. What the heck is it with you men? What'cha gotta prove? Ain't it enough that you nearly got your head knocked off? You gotta go be a damned hero on top of it, too?" she asked tersely. "Not that I'll ever understand what's hero-like about draggin' yourself out o' bed when you ain't fit for walking around," she added and shook her head in disgust. "And you ain't, you know. I nearly had to pick you up off the floor no more 'n a few hours ago."

Covering his face with both hands, he was once again reminded of Sarah's commanding tone of voice when he'd been sick and tried not to appear weak. She'd sounded much like Jessie did now, and it made him feel both good and horribly bad at the same time. Groaning into his hands, he wondered when she would leave him be. Knowing that it was a strange thing to think, he also wondered when she would stop looking and sounding like Sarah. He knew she couldn't help it. In her own way she was the same type of woman Sarah had been, strong, dedicated, always willing to help.

The sound of a chair being pulled out from the table made him drop his hands and look at her as she sat down next to him and put a hand on his back. "I know you ain't feelin' good, Mr. Larabee. Heaven knows I understand. But you ain't doin' yourself no favors, tryin' to be well when you ain't."

He didn't feel like saying anything. Instead, he let out another heartfelt groan and dropped his head onto his arms again. Maybe she was right after all. How ever little he might want to admit it, he did feel lousy, and getting some rest sounded very appealing right then.

After a moment of doing a little soul-searching, he decided to heed her advice. It was well meant, he knew, and not entirely untrue. He rose somewhat unsteadily to his feet and headed back to the room, several times having to brace himself against the walls. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea to go back to bed.

Tumbling back onto the bed, he stayed as he was on his stomach, his face half buried in the pillow, half asleep already. Yeah, Jessie was right. This was the best thing for him to do right now, he thought before he drifted off.

+ + + + + + +

Jessie sighed a little dramatically to herself and briefly wondered where Nathan had gone to. Frowning, she glanced around the common room without finding him there. "Mr. Jackson?" she called.

"Yeah?" The front door opened and he stuck his head in. "Anythin' wrong?"

All she could do was smile. He was so concerned about others most of the time. "No, nothin' at all. Just wonderin' where you were. I'm fixin' Mr. Tanner somethin' to eat before the hoard gathers. You hungry?"

"Always," he said with a smile and stepped inside. "I just figured I'd enjoy the quiet for a bit. It's a lovely day."

Jessie nodded and returned to preparing the food. "That it is," she agreed. "Why don't you just relax for a bit. You been helpin' me plenty today."

Nathan was not used to kindness from strangers, although he wouldn't call Jessie a stranger any more. They were, after all, going to work together in the near future. "If it's alright with you, I reckon I'll go back outside then," he suggested.

"Sounds like a good idea, Mr. Jackson," she replied, sending him a brief smile before he disappeared back outside.

+ + + + + + +

As Jessie had correctly assumed, Buck, Ezra and J.D. turned up in time for supper, and they were all happy to hear that Vin was back among them, and feeling better, too. After all of them had been in to say hi and check on his progress, wearing him out with their mere presence, they settled down for another of Jessie's home cooked meals. Chris was still asleep and they were under strict orders to leave him be until he woke up on his own.

Jessie leaned back on her chair and watched them eat for a while. Each one in his own right was a man of consequence. She had always prided herself with being able to read people, and looking at these four, she figured she had them correctly placed.

Buck was the ladies' man, more like a kid in a candy store than anything. She realized fully that he respected women and treated them kindly, not discerning between them in any manner or fashion, and she liked him for that. Although he wasn't her type and she would never fall for his charm, she did see what the appeal was. Tall, dark and handsome were his trademarks, along with a mischievous mind. She figured he was the type to get into all sorts of trouble just because of his nature.

Ezra was the gambler. The way he dressed, the way he spoke, the way he behaved in general, gave that away without a doubt. Jessie had the distinct impression that he wasn't as brave as the others and did his damndest to conceal that fact, although the others seemed to be fully aware of it. Beneath all the mannerisms and lofty standards, she figured he had a good heart; although he was highly suspicious of anything and anyone. Someone had taught him not to trust others and it was so ingrown that she figured it went all the way back to his childhood.

Nathan was an ex-slave. She knew that just by looking at him. He was fiercely loyal to his friends, but also cautious. His mental as well as physical strength gave away that he was used to fighting for his survival, a fact Jessie found somewhat disturbing. It wasn't right that man as good-natured as Nathan had suffered so much. But he had survived whatever it had been and it had made him a stronger man. One you could rely on.

J.D. was the kid. Vibrant, full of life and pride. Jessie watched him for a moment, while he was chatting away, getting teased by Buck, who had a gleam in his eye. They had a brother-relationship going there. Buck saw J.D. as his little brother and J.D. probably saw Buck as his big brother. The boy had potential, she figured. Potential to get himself into trouble, but also to become someone great. He was so young and yet already the sheriff of Four Corners. That was quite an achievement in her opinion.

The remaining three not at the table were the more serious core of this group, she figured.

Chris Larabee was a leader, alas a reluctant one. If asked, he would probably deny it all together. He wasn't a man who took charge because he wanted to be in charge. He did it because it was required. Dark and brooding as he was, she wondered what had happened to his wife and son. They had been killed. That much he had told her. But not how or why. If any of the seven had demons to fight, it would be him. And these demons were bad.

Josiah was a man on a mission, she figured. He was strong of character, and still had an inkling of faith left from his preaching days, but he did not strike her as being the kind of man who would put all his faith in a God he couldn't see. He was a lot more earthbound than any preacher man she had ever met. Normally, she disliked men of the church for various reasons, but Josiah was likable in his calm, quiet way.

The enigma of the group was Vin Tanner. She didn't know too much about him yet, only that his friends were fond of him, each in their own way, and that they would go to extremes to help him out of a predicament. At least Chris Larabee would, which gave her the impression that the relationship between the two of them in a way mirrored Buck and J.D.'s. They were like brothers. From what little she had picked up about Vin, she figured he was the lone wolf of the group, the one who had trouble adjusting to the fact that he had friends backing him up.

Watching them talk and tease each other like that, she formed her own opinions about them in turn. And then, with a light shake of her head, she glanced down at her plate of half-eaten food. Only a week ago, she had lived out here all alone, hardly ever seeing anybody except for those few times when she went to the nearest town, which happened to be Four Corners, for supplies. That didn't happen very often, though. Or hadn't happened very often, she corrected herself. She had told Nathan that she would help him and help him she would, which again meant that she would be spending a lot of time in town. Despite her solitary nature, she didn't think it was such a bad thing to have found friends among these men.

Glancing around at them again, she smiled to herself. And perhaps she would find, in one of them, more than a friend.

Three Days Later

A silence so profound that it smothered life itself wouldn't be as heartbreaking and difficult to stand as not being able to move on your own when all you wanted to do was move. Vin was not fond of being indoors. As a matter of fact, he wasn't fond of staying in one place for too long. Being bedridden for nearly a week was not his idea of fun, and now that he was feeling better and didn't feel the need to sleep all the time, he wanted to get up and out. But his foot, still in need of a lot of treatment, wouldn't allow him to get out of bed. Nor would the rest of his slowly healing injuries.

He shifted uneasily on the bed, turning from his right to his left side, punched the pillow a few times, shifted his left leg a little, then rolled back onto his right side and repeated the procedure there. After doing that a few times, he sighed heavily and sat up, still having to use both hands to push himself up. "Damn," he grumbled and cleared his throat.

Pulling himself back, he leaned against the headboard of the bed for a moment before leaning forward again to readjust the pillow under his foot and shifting his right foot under his left thigh. "Shit," he hissed angrily.

Jessie Landon was going through the woes of hell to accommodate him, but nothing she suggested would allow him to rest easy. Nothing she did could quell his frustration over not being able to go outside. Or anywhere else, for that matter.

Before he could once again shift his position, the door opened and Jessie came in with a tray. It took her one second to realize what was going on. Setting the tray down on a chair next to his bed, she gave him a thoughtful look, which instantly made him cringe inwardly. "Cabin fever, huh?" she asked him.

Vin had expected a tirade about that he shouldn't sit up yet, and the absence of it surprised him. "I reckon," he agreed tiredly. "I ain't used to bein' indoors this long."

She nodded. "Must be hard," she sympathized and gave him the once over, taking in his rising mobility. Every day he got stronger, and with every passing day, he became more antsy. Jessie realized without giving it any thought that he would become more and more difficult to be around. Chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip, she frowned deeply for a moment. "Well, I figure, with Nathan's help, you could get up."

He just stared at her for a moment. "Now?" he wanted to know.

Jessie wasn't happy about it, but she figured she needed to give him something to hold onto before he went completely stir-crazy on her. "Le' me see what the doc has to say about that," she suggested with a smile, and left the room without giving him a chance to reply.

The thought of being able to get out of this room right now made him even more edgy than before. He couldn't sit still, couldn't relax. When Jessie returned with Nathan in tow, he felt his hope dwindle. Nathan looked anything but happy. "Come on, Nate. I gotta get outta here," he insisted before the healer had a chance to even open his mouth. Suddenly embarrassed by that outburst, he flicked Jessie a guilty look. "No offense intended, ma'am," he added.

She merely nodded, not looking the least bit upset about it. Nathan, on the other hand, still didn't look happy. "I ain't so sure that's a good idea, Vin. You ain't well enough yet," he said.

"I need to be outside, Nate." He knew he was whining and he hated doing it, but he couldn't help it. He knew for certain that he didn't have the strength to get out of bed himself yet and depending on others wasn't his favorite past-time, but he needed to get out of this room. "I ain't seen the sun for a week."

"There ain't no sun today. It's been cloudy all day," Nathan tried to dissuade him. He knew it wouldn't work, knew the young tracker didn't care if it was coming down in buckets out there. He wanted to be outside and that was all there was to it.

"Aw, hell, Nate," Vin groaned. "I gotta get outside."

"What can it harm?" Jessie asked, glancing at Nathan. "I mean, if he's well enough to put up that much of a fight, I figure he's well enough to be outside for a bit."

Nathan made a face. He was not happy about it. But he figured Jessie was right. "Alright. But not for long, you hear?" he warned.

+ + + + + + +

With a combined effort and much frustration on Vin's part, Jessie and Nathan actually managed to get him all the way out to the porch, where he gratefully sank down on a big, wooden chair. After pulling up another chair with a pillow for his foot, and placing a pillow behind his back as well, Jessie stepped back and eyed her handiwork. There was no doubt in her mind that he had needed this. There was a light breeze blowing over the yard, rustling the low bushes and the occasional tree, and up above, heavy white clouds were rolling over a steel grey sky, promising rain. The air was a bit nippy at this point, but that didn't seem to bother him the least bit. One of the others had brought him some clothes at one point, but the only thing he was wearing at that moment were his pants.

"If you gonna stay out here, you gonna need a shirt or somethin'," Jessie said. "You might not think it's cold, but you ain't in any condition to get a cold right now."

"Alright," he replied and leaned back into the pillow. He was not going to put up a fight over that. No way. He was outside, he could feel the wind on his face, and it improved his mood and his condition considerably.

Jessie tugged at Nathan's sleeve, urging him to come with her. Once she had closed the door, she gave him a quick smile. "I know it ain't the best idea, Mr. Jackson," she said, "but did you see that expression on his face? If he don't get better from this, he don't get better from nothin'."

Nathan sighed. "I guess," he agreed reluctantly. "Better get 'im that shirt, though. He don't need a cold right now."

Jessie ran into Chris on the way back to Vin's room. He had spent the better part of the past three days sleeping. When he wasn't sleeping, they talked. He seemed to value her thoughts as much as she valued his, and they had spent a lot of time getting acquainted. "What's up?" he asked her, still looking pretty tired.

"Mr. Tanner's outside on the porch. I figure he's feelin' better," she said with a smile. "I just gotta pick 'im up a shirt," she added and quickly went into Vin's room to retrieve said shirt. Chris was waiting for her when she came back out again.

"If he's well enough to be outside, he's well enough to get a piece o' my mind," he said, his expression tense.

"Chris, I ain't meddlin' here, but don't you think he learned his lesson? He ain't no little kid," she said, trying to cushion whatever blow he intended to give his friend.

"No, he ain't. I figure it's about time he stopped behavin' like one," Chris said and walked briskly along the corridor to the common room and disappeared from view.

Jessie made a face and sighed. She figured she should stay close to him to prevent him from going overboard with whatever he intended to say to Vin.

+ + + + + + +

Vin enjoyed the air although it was a little chilly, and when the door opened again, he thought it was Jessie, bringing him his shirt. Seeing Chris, he instinctively ducked his head a little. He had been expecting Chris to tell him off ever since he'd been aware enough to understand it, but the expected reprimand had remained absent. He didn't for one minute believe he could avoid it, though.

Chris had grabbed a chair on the way out and settled down on it next to Vin, his expression much the same as it always was. "Good to see you up and about, Tanner," he said.

Vin knew what was coming when Chris called him by his last name, and he remained silent. No amount of apologizing would put this whole thing right with Chris until he'd had his say in the matter.

Leaning forward, Chris rested his elbows on his knees and folded his hands, his gaze roaming over the yard without really seeing it. What he saw before his mind's eye was what had transpired over a week ago. "I figure you know what I'm gonna say, don'cha?" he asked after a moment and sent Vin a quick glance. "Well, I'm gonna say it anyway. I know you ain't much for bein' on a leash, Vin, but as long as we're all workin' together, you gotta let us know where you're at." He paused a moment, considering his words carefully. He wanted Vin to understand that he was pissed, but he also wanted the younger man to know how scared he had been without having to put it in words. "You got a lot o' enemies out there, Vin. I ain't exactly sure how you got 'em and it ain't my concern anyway. But, on account of it, you gotta be more careful. Them Stanford brothers could 'ave killed you. I figure you know that, but still."

Vin stared ahead of himself, listening silently to Chris' words. It wasn't the worst dressing-down he'd ever had in the sense that Chris was speaking quietly without even stressing the words, but the meaning behind it all was clear as glass to him and it made him feel a whole lot worse about it. "I didn't figure I'd be gone long," he said after a moment. "I's just not payin' attention, I guess."

Jessie chose that moment to come outside to give Vin his shirt, well aware that he couldn't put it on himself. He wasn't that mobile yet. She helped him into it without a word, made sure he was comfortable, and went back inside, still without a word.

Chris appreciated that she hadn't interfered, although he was certain he would be hearing about this once he went back inside. "Well, you gotta pay more attention, Vin," he said, continuing where he'd left off. Turning his head, he looked back at Vin, who somewhat reluctantly met his gaze. "I might not 'ave made in time. It was pure luck that I found you in the first place," he said, then made a face at his own choice of words. "Well, I reckon those brothers found me," he added.

"I reckon they did," Vin agreed. "I ain't proud of it, Chris. All I can say is, I wasn't thinkin'."

Once again, Chris turned his attention to the yard and stared ahead of himself for a moment. What else could he say? "Well, I figure that'll do for now," he said and leaned back on the chair. "Just don't expect Buck to go easy on you. He's mighty ticked off about this," he added.

Making a face, Vin shifted his position a little, then frowned and glanced down himself. He sniffed the air, then grabbed his shirtfront and pulled the fabric up to his nose. "What the heck is that?" he asked and looked over at Chris, who didn't seem to understand what he was talking about. "It kinda smells weird," he added.

Chris leaned in a little to get a whiff of what Vin was talking about and couldn't help grinning. "I reckon Mrs. Landon took the time out to wash your clothes," he said and couldn't stop the grin spreading over his lips.

"Well, that's mighty nice o' her, but..." Vin replied and smoothed a hand over his shirt, "... what is that smell?"

Chris had just about all the trouble he could handle to prevent himself from laughing out loud. The look on Vin's face was to die for. He displayed a mixture of confusion and disgust. "Lavender, I guess," Chris replied and started chuckling under his breath at the mortified look on his friend's face.

"Aw hell," Vin mumbled, glancing down himself again.

"It won't last, Vin," Chris promised, fighting his urge to laugh at this unexpected predicament. If Vin could fuss about something like that, he was definitely going to be okay.

Four Corners

Two days later

The judge had come and gone, taking the Stanford brothers with him to be tried and convicted. He had promised that there was no way in hell that the four brothers would get away with what they had done, and that promise had come easy after Buck and Josiah had presented him with the evidence of the six bodies in the Stanford homestead. Since it was impossible to identify them, they had been removed from the basement and had been buried in the local cemetery under nameless crosses. The Stanford house had been condemned and would be left to rot until it collapsed.

That didn't mean that Chris was satisfied with the result. He didn't want to see them hang. He wanted to shoot them himself. Pensively, he rubbed his brow. "Six people," he mumbled and dropped his hand, glancing around the jail without really seeing it. "Six damned people. How the hell could that happen?"

"They wasn't from around here. Nobody missed 'em," Buck replied from where he was sitting on the edge of the desk.

J.D. watched Chris closely from his chair. "Guess it was sort o' lucky that Vin got on their land, huh? We'd never 'ave found 'em otherwise."

Chris gave him a dark look. "Lucky?" he asked. "You call what happened to Vin lucky?"

"Now, hold on a sec, pard. All the kid's tryin' to say is that we wouldn't 'ave found 'em if it hadn't been for Vin bein' a god damned lone wolf again and takin' off without us knowin'," Buck intervened, aware that J.D. didn't always express himself right. "Ain't nobody said it's good what happened to 'im," he added, raising both hands in a deprecating gesture.

J.D. had ducked his head the second Chris had given him that glare and he was quick to agree with Buck. "Yeah, that's what I meant," he assured Chris, nodding his head vigorously.

Making a face, the gunslinger hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Well, I guess it does have it's benefits that he has to be so goddamn stubborn at times," he growled.

"Them brothers' gonna hang, Chris. That's all that matters. They ain't gettin' away with it," Buck said, hoping to appease his friend.

"Not like certain others," Chris grumbled, turned and left the jail without another word.

"I ain't never seen him that angry before," J.D. said, still cowering from being glared at like that.

"I have," Buck replied and shook his head sadly. Then he turned his attention to J.D. "You gotta learn to watch your mouth, kid. You can't go around sayin' things right off the top o' your head like that. It'll get you killed some day," he reprimanded J.D.

"Well, it's the truth, ain't it?" the kid tried to defend himself.

"Damned straight it is," Buck agreed. "But, some things you just don't say. You keep 'em inside. You know?"

J.D. didn't really understand that, but he didn't want to make a fuss or seem ignorant in Buck's eyes, so he kept his mouth shut, for the first time implementing what Buck had just told him to do.

+ + + + + + +

Smoke from about a dozen lit cigarettes and cheroots drifted lazily in the air, being stirred only occasionally when Inez brought the guests whatever they may have ordered, or retrieved empty glasses and plates from abandoned tables. She picked up an empty pitcher and glanced toward the gaming table, where Ezra was once again deeply engrossed in playing cards with three other men, while their comrades and other curious bystanders stood by, watching. She had never understood that game or the need to play it, but she didn't care one way or another what happened as long as nobody got killed.

Returning the pitcher to the bar, she caught Buck looking at her from the rear table, where he and Chris were spending some quiet time together. The second he saw her glancing his way, Buck grinned broadly at her and it was all she could do to not roll her eyes. When would he give up? She wasn't interested in him, not that way, and she had attempted to convey that to him in more ways than one. But every time she tried, she seemingly slammed her head against that brick wall of denial he had put up between himself and any woman who dared say the obviously rather offensive word 'no' to him.

"Madre del dios," she muttered under her breath with a shake of her head, and slipped behind the bar again when the batwing doors parted, admitting two dusty cowboys looking for a drink.

Buck settled back on his chair, his eyes still on Inez, while Chris remained motionless with a glass of whiskey sitting untouched in front of him. He stared at the glass while his mind wandered. He had to admit, without hesitation, that he liked Jessie Landon. He liked her especially when she did things that reminded him of Sarah. Somehow, she had managed to drag his mind away from the horrible realization it had been that he had lost the two most important people in his life. When he had found out who had ordered their deaths, he had nearly lost it. He had nearly killed himself with booze after that one. All the bad memories had welled back up in him like stagnant water from an old well, threatening to drown him with the images of the charred bodies of his wife and son. All the evil thoughts he had ever harbored overwhelmed him, making him vile to even his closest friends. The only one ready to take action against him at that time had been Buck. When it came down to it, it was always Buck who managed to drag him back out of that dark pit he fell into. But now there was someone else doing that, someone who managed to make him remember all the good things about Sarah, about the love they had shared.

When Chris sighed heavily, Buck glanced over at him and saw the gleam of tears in his friend's eyes. But he also saw the shadow of a smile on the gunslinger's lips, and that made him wonder what Chris was thinking about. He knew better than to ask, though. Any wrong move could trigger Chris and send him back into the bottle, and Buck ahead of anybody wanted to avoid that. He was getting thoroughly fed up with having to bail his friend out of whatever self-destructive course he had gotten on whenever the drinks became too many and sleep became scarce. He couldn't help wondering, though. Something was obviously making Chris remember his past, but whatever it was, it also brought a smile to his face and that was very rare.

"Sarah would 'ave liked her," Chris said out of the blue, continuously staring at his still untouched drink. "She would 'ave liked her a lot."

Buck frowned. "Who?" he asked, not really tuned into what Chris might be talking about.

That made the gunslinger smile and give him a wry glance. "Mrs. Landon, of course. She's some piece o' work," he explained. The smile faded and he returned his gaze to the whiskey. "And she looks so much like Sarah," he added thoughtfully. "It's funny, really. I figured it would hurt. But it don't. Just makes me remember all the good things." He grabbed the glass and started turning it slowly on the table top. "I thought I was losin' 'em there for a while. Couldn't remember much no more. About Sarah. About how she was. And Adam. But, somehow, she brought 'em back." He smiled cynically at his own words. "How's that for crazy?" he asked and glanced at Buck again.

Buck leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, and gave Chris a grin. "Well, we're all crazy, workin' for one dollar a day, gettin' shot at, beaten up, and God knows what else for virtually nothin'. Ain't that what's it's all about, pard?" he wanted to know. "Us bein' crazy enough to do this kinda work?"

Chris grinned weakly back at him. "I imagine so," he agreed. "It ain't the money keepin' us here anyway, is it?"

"Nope," Buck said and leaned back again. "If it were, it'd have to be a hell of a lot more 'n this." Taking a chance, Buck grinned knowingly. "So, you like her too, huh?"

Chris made a face and tipped the glass until the whiskey almost spilled. "I suppose," he said. "She's a tough lady."

"Tough as nails," Buck agreed. "And beautiful as a dream," he added and sighed dramatically. "And smart too." It made him smile somewhat gleefully when Chris nodded to all of that without a word. "And she's got land," he went on. "How's that mix? I mean, she's got to have somethin' tugged away for a rainy day somehow. She ain't workin' the land. There ain't no horses or cattle out there. What's she livin' off, you think?"

Chris shrugged, obviously indifferent to how she might make a living. "Don't know. And it ain't our concern anyway," he said and pushed the glass away from him before leaning back on his chair.

That action made Buck stare at him for a moment. "You ain't gonna drink that?" he asked, trying not to sound too surprised. He couldn't remember the last time Chris had passed on a glass of whiskey while off duty.

"I'm not in the mood," the gunslinger said. "Gotta think a lot o' things through. Need a clear head for that," he added almost to himself, then rose. "I figure I'll go up to the cabin for a bit. I'll be back tonight." With that, he took off, walking slowly out of the saloon and across to the livery to get Pony out of his stall.

Buck just sat there, slightly confused about what this meant. Something had obviously changed and he figured Jessie was in part responsible for that merely by being who she was. "A blessin' in disguise," he mumbled, grabbed the glass and downed the contents in one go. "It's like Josiah always says. The lord works in mysterious ways."

The Landon Homestead

For someone not used to others fussing over him, Vin was getting his share of attention from Jessie Landon in the sense that she was focused solely on his wounds and trying to make sure that he healed with a minimum of discomfort, although that did involve a lot of handling on her part.

Using another of her ancient recipes, she had made a sort of balm, which she insisted was necessary to make his foot heal faster and to minimize the scar tissue. At the same time she also insisted on rubbing it on his back to do the same thing to the whiplashes there. The feel of her hands on his skin made him feel all tingly inside and it took quite a bit of effort on his part to keep from enjoying it too much. The thought that all this would go away once he was well again made him apprehensive about it. He didn't want to get used to something he would sorely miss later. And he could get used to this kind of treatment. The first few times it had still been pretty painful, but he had to admit that it was helping. The wounds were healing faster and it didn't look as ugly as he had feared it would. Not that a few new scars would make him uncomfortable.

While she massaged the balm into the still tender skin on his foot, he watched her, wondering about her. He had never been one to talk much or ask other people questions if he felt it was none of his business, but this woman intrigued him. That didn't mean that he found it any easier to strike up a conversation with her. He still had no idea what to say to her and she didn't seem to be one to start talking, either.

Instead he settled for watching her fingers working over his ankle, massaging the faintly scented balm into his skin. Her long, slender fingers, drawing streaks of soothing warmth over his skin. Suddenly very aware of how much she was influencing him, he turned his head, looking away from what she was doing, and wished desperately she would stop touching him. The only way he could accomplish that without letting on how he felt right then was by feigning pain. So he suddenly hissed, jerking his foot back. "Ow."

"Sorry," she apologized, giving him a smile and a quick glance. "I reckon it's enough anyway," she said and wrapped a fresh bandage around his foot. "You hungry?" she asked once she was done.

Vin shook his head lightly, never once taking his eyes off her. He felt so stupid for being utterly incapable of forming a worth-while sentence when he was alone with her, and sank back into the pillow to gaze thoughtfully out over the yard. Mostly, he wanted to get on Peso and just ride out there and leave all this behind so he could clear his mind and find his inner peace again. On the other hand he wanted to stick around her and get to know her. But that would be a little difficult if he didn't find his voice soon. Besides, she probably thought he was being silly anyway, so why bother. With a heavy sigh, he settled for just sitting there for another day, staring into space and mentally kicking himself for not being able to talk to a woman.

"Gee, you look about ready to burst."

That voice came virtually out of nowhere and made Vin close his eyes in exasperation for a moment before turning his head to look up at Buck. "Hi, Buck," he said and gave him a tentative smile. "You come to rake me over the coals too?" he wanted to know, attempting to defuse the situation before Wilmington went overboard with whatever he had to say. Chris had warned him about Buck being upset about all this.

Buck pulled up a chair and sat down, glancing around for their gracious hostess. "Nah, I figure Chris did that already and there ain't nobody better at stickin' it to you than him," he said with a grin. "So, how're you feelin'?"

Vin sighed again. "I've felt better," he admitted reluctantly. "I ain't used to bein' stuck in one place this long." He settled himself somewhat better, shifting his foot in the process, too. "I reckon that serves me right, eh?" Buck merely made a face and shrugged. "Chris said them brothers are gonna hang," he added.

"Yup," Buck agreed. "They've gone and done somethin' pretty stupid. They killed six people. And they left 'em to rot in the basement. How's that for stupid," he said. "They'll all swing, thanks to you."

That made Vin frown. "Why me?" he wanted to know.

"If you hadn't gone and done somethin' stupid like takin' off without lettin' us know where you're headed, we wouldn't 'ave found 'em. So, in a sense, pard, you did 'em a favor by gettin' your head busted like you did," Buck explained, looking downright content with himself.

"I wasn't the one got his head busted," Vin said tiredly.

"Oh yeah, that's right. That was Chris, wasn't it?" Buck replied, grabbing the opportunity to make his opinion known.

"Yeah, it was," Vin agreed. "I ain't proud of it, Buck, but I didn't ask 'im to come lookin' for me, now did I?"

Buck pulled his hat off and raked his fingers through his hair, a gesture of frustration on his part. "Well, maybe not," he agreed. "But you oughta know the man well enough by now to know he'd do it, anyway. He ain't the type to leave his friends behind."

"Mr. Wilmington." Jessie was a godsend. She turned up at exactly the right moment to prevent Buck from getting all worked up about something that couldn't be changed. "I didn't hear you ride up," she added, glancing out at the yard and noting the fact that there was no horse in sight.

"Well, I kinda snuck up on you all," Buck admitted with a big smile, getting up to greet her properly. "Kinda like a surprise visit."

"Well, it worked," she said with a smile of her own. "I'm surprised. So, you wanna join us for supper?" she wanted to know, winking at Vin, who blushed all the way to his hair roots and quickly looked away. "Mr. Jackson and Mr. Tanner here are gettin' mighty hungry this time o' day."

Vin opened his mouth to object to that, seeing as he hadn't really joined them for any meals so far, but quickly realized that she was teasing Buck for some odd reason. Buck, of course, was completely oblivious to that, taken by her as he was.

"Why, certainly. I'd love to stay," Buck burst out, grinning from ear to ear.

"You reckon the rest'll turn up, too?" she wanted to know, glancing out toward the road.

Buck glanced at Vin, who wouldn't have the first clue about that, then shrugged. "I don't rightly know, ma'am. I reckon they might, seein' as you're just about the damned best cook for miles around."

"Why, thank you kindly, Mr. Wilmington," she said. "I'd best get started then," she added, but then caught the somewhat frantic look in Vin's eyes. "It might be an idea if you came inside, Mr. Tanner. It ain't exactly warm out here no more," she said.

Vin nodded his consent. Anything right now would be better than having to be alone with Buck and risking further injuries because he lost his temper or something.

"Would you mind helpin' him, Mr. Wilmington? He ain't too sure on his feet yet. And mind that foot o' his," she said, turning her attention back to Buck.

"Certainly, ma'am," Buck replied and helped Vin up, supporting him so he didn't have to use his left foot yet. He had tried earlier in the day when Nathan and Jessie had helped him outside and the result had been a near catastrophe, where he had spent nearly an hour in agonizing pain.

Jessie walked ahead, but kept an eye on their progress, not really trusting Buck to treat Vin the way she thought he should treat him.

Vin was grateful for her intervention and for the fact that Buck would do virtually anything to impress her and therefore wouldn't do anything intentionally to hurt him. He wasn't always too sure when it came to Buck. Although he would trust the man with his life in a fight, he had put Chris in jeopardy by being reckless, and if there was one thing Buck Wilmington couldn't stand, it was that. And he tended to get nasty when he was angry.

+ + + + + + +

Once again everybody turned up for supper, except for Chris. Buck told Jessie not to worry about him, he had gone to his cabin to be alone for awhile. That said, they all sat down to eat, all of them having a good time.

That included Vin, who found that none of the others seemed to be holding any of the past events against him. And he was happy to be back among them even though he was still having a great deal of trouble with his injuries. And while they talked and ate, he kept glancing at Jessie, who was having a rather philosophical discussing with Josiah. The ex-preacher seemed genuinely surprised by her knowledge and kept complementing her on it, a fact which didn't derail her conversational skills at all. She graciously accepted the praise and continued their discussion. The more he learned about her, the less Vin thought he stood a chance of getting to know a woman like her. Once again, he cursed his lack of skills when it came to reading and writing. He figured he would learn it eventually, but by that time, Jessie would have probably found a companion for life. And he just knew who that would be. Making a face, he barely refrained from sighing.

"You okay?" Nathan asked, having noted the somewhat gloomy expression on the tracker's face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Vin replied and tried to smile. It didn't really come out right and Nathan instantly mistook it for fatigue.

"You tired?" he asked.

"Nah," Vin said, finding that he actually was a bit worn out. The healing of his body took a lot of energy out of him and he didn't have his usual stamina. "Not really," he added.

"Then why, if I may be so bold as to inquire, are you lookin' like you haven't slept in a good long while?" Ezra asked him, giving him a somewhat benevolent smile.

"I said I'm fine," Vin replied, giving him a stern look, which only earned him a grin from the gambler.

All this attention had only one result and that was the one Vin had tried to avoid. Jessie looked over at him with slight concern, maybe expecting him to fall off his chair in a second or something. Seeing that whatever Nathan thought he had seen was exaggerated, she gave him a smile instead. "Well, he looks perfectly fine to me," she said. "It's about time he got up and about, don't you think?" she asked, still looking at Vin.

It was with something of an effort that he managed not to blush again. This whole thing was getting ridiculous, and he now more than ever wanted to take off and be alone for a while. But that was still impossible.

"I agree," Josiah said, a small smile on his lips. He figured he knew what was ailing his young friend and he didn't blame him one bit. Now that Vin was virtually back to normal, he had obviously discovered the charms of their gracious hostess. Josiah figured a man would have to be dead and blind to not notice. "You look fine to me," he went on, directing his words to Vin, who nodded gratefully. The last thing he wanted right then was to be sent to bed like a little kid.

Just then, the door opened and Chris stepped in, hat in hands. "Am I too late?" he asked, glancing around at them all, then fixing his eyes on Jessie.

"Of course not. Come on in. Have a seat," she replied, smiling brightly at him.

Vin saw that smile and felt the immediate sting of loss. But he subdued that feeling at once, pushing it away. It had no place here. He couldn't begrudge Chris what little happiness the gunslinger might find in knowing Jessie, and he figured he wouldn't stand a chance with her anyway. He had once found another lady irresistible and had even considered spending his life with her, only to be told, 'You're reachin' for the stars, Vin Tanner. No man ever reached 'em.' This time he did sigh, but nobody noticed. Then he looked up to meet Chris' stare and smiled. "How's the shack?" he asked.

Chris made a face and sat down at the opposite end of the table from Jessie. "It ain't no shack. It's a cabin," he growled, but found it hard to keep a smile at bay. It was damned good to see Vin up and about again.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Vin brushed him off with that smile still on his lips.

Four Corners

Two weeks later

Who would have thought that getting back to normal could be so difficult, Vin wondered and wiggled his left foot a bit. His ankle was stiff and started hurting real easy these days. He knew it was still early and that the side effects would gradually wear off, but he didn't like being hampered like this. He always had to think twice before taking a step down from anywhere, weighing the pros and cons of whether his foot was going to twist under him or not. Jessie had given him enough of the balm to see him through to the end of the year if need be, but he didn't like the smell of that stuff and hence didn't bother rubbing it on. He didn't heed Nathan's advice to take it easy, either, and went riding every day. He didn't think riding would hurt his foot at all, but he was beginning to see it in a different light.

The past days, he had been able to go riding all day without too much discomfort. His foot had hurt a bit, but as soon as he took the weight off it, it had stopped after a few moments. But not today. Today it hurt like hell and every move he made with that foot sent a jab of pain through his leg. Apart from that, his foot felt swollen inside the boot. He had attributed that to the boots being new, but since he didn't have the same feeling where his right foot was concerned, he was beginning to see reason. Not willingly, but the pain was beginning to wear him down.

Carefully, he put his weight on his left foot and jerked violently when a cramp-like pain shot up his calf, nearly making him double over. "Shit," he hissed, holding onto Peso for support.

The gelding turned his head and glanced at Vin almost accusingly. "Don't you start on me, too," Vin growled. "It'll pass in a minute."

"What will?"

Turning his head, he caught sight of Chris, who had just stepped into the livery. He had a dark look in his eyes. "Nothin'," Vin hastened to say. "Just overdid it a bit today, I reckon," he added as ways of explaining why he had his left foot off the ground.

"Didn't Nathan tell you to take it easy, Vin?" Chris asked, his voice holding that hint of anger that Vin knew so well.

"Yeah, sure, but I ain't sick no more. I must 'ave twisted it or somethin'. I's out longer yesterday and I didn't have no trouble at all," he tried to defend himself.

Chris stared at him for a moment, then shook his head a little. "You ain't never gonna learn, are you?" he asked. "We're here to help you if you need it. All you gotta do is ask."

"For what? I'm fine," Vin claimed and stubbornly turned his back on the gunslinger.

For a moment Chris considered leaving him to it, knowing full well that the tracker couldn't walk right now and would have to ask for help, but he figured he'd just come up with something silly like riding Peso over to his wagon or something in that direction. "You need any help?" he asked, finding it hard to speak normally.

"Nah, I'm fine," Vin replied, not looking back at him. He didn't want Chris to see how he was really feeling. And fine wasn't it.

It took some consideration on Chris' part to make up his mind about what to do next. Then he nodded to himself. There was only one course of action he could take. It wasn't fair, but he wanted Vin to stay off that foot until it had healed properly. "I'm gettin' Mrs. Landon," he said, turned around and strode out without giving Vin a chance to object.

"No," he snapped and turned around in an attempt to stop Chris, but instead he brought his left foot down when he almost lost his balance and only barely managed to prevent himself from crying out in pain. "Shit, shit, shit," he hissed through clenched teeth, grabbing his shin with his left hand while holding onto Peso's saddle with the right.

Only moments later, Jessie strode into the livery, a look of concern on her face. "What the hell are you up to?" she demanded, stopping right in front of him. It took one look for her to determine that he was anything but fine. He was pale, a light sheen of sweat covering his face and neck, and his lips were pressed tightly together in a good imitation of pain. "For heaven's sake, Vin Tanner," she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "Are you tryin' to ruin that foot for good?" She didn't even give him a chance to reply, but turned her attention to Chris, who had followed her back to the livery. "Would'cha get Mr. Jackson for me, Mr. Larabee?" she asked. "If he won't stay off that foot himself, we gotta make 'im."

+ + + + + + +

"I don't need no help," Vin pressed out, fully aware that he did need it. But he would be damned if he would give in that easily.

Jessie turned back to face him and all the fight went right out of him at that look in her eyes. "You worry me, Mr. Tanner," she said. "I would 'ave figured that Mr. Larabee would be the self-destructive type. Instead it's you."

Nathan turned up, looking both angry and concerned at the same time. "What did I tell you only yesterday, Vin? You gotta stay off that foot. It ain't healed yet," the healer exclaimed.

"But..." Vin began, but was cut off by Jessie.

"No buts. You're goin' over to the clinic and that's final. I wanna take a look at that foot. Right now," she said, pointing toward the doors of the livery with a stern expression on her face.

"But..." Vin tried again, but was this time interrupted by Nathan.

"You heard the lady. Let's go," he said, taking a hold of Vin's arm.

Vin caught sight of the somewhat satisfied look on Chris' face and sneered at him. "What'cha lookin' at?" he snapped. "Ain't 'cha gonna help me?"

"Oh, now you can ask, huh?" Chris countered. "I'll help 'em get you over to the clinic, Vin," he added and couldn't help but smile somewhat sternly at the dismal expression on the younger man's face. "Even if I have to carry you."

"Aw hell," Vin sighed, but figured he wasn't done fighting back yet. "I'll ride over," he added and pulled his arm out of Nathan's grip.

Chris gave him an unmistakably threatening look. "Don't even think about hightailin' it outta here, you hear?" he warned.

At that very second, Peso seemed to make up his mind about joining the fun, sensing his owner was outnumbered, and turned his head and clamped his teeth down on Vin's shoulder, nearly breaking it in the process. "JEEZ, YA STUPID MULE," Vin howled, twisting around to get his shoulder out of the vice-like bite. Peso released him almost instantly and nearly seemed to be laughing to himself. Vin struggled for balance and stumbled backwards into Jessie's arms, but she managed to catch him and steady him before he came down fully on his left foot. That would have aggravated the injury further.

Holding onto Vin, who was even paler than before, Jessie locked eyes with the ornery gelding. "What the heck did you do that for?" she snapped at the animal. For some odd reason, Peso seemed to take it to heart that she was angry with him and backed up a step. He stomped the stable floor nervously a few times. "Get back in your stall," she added and Peso obeyed without the slightest hesitation, backing into the stall without ever taking his eyes off the woman.

Then Jessie finally glanced down at Vin. "You okay?" she wanted to know.

Vin hadn't moved since she'd grabbed him and he didn't really feel much like it in any event. Sure, it had hurt when Peso had bitten him, but that stubborn mule did that a lot. It wasn't anything new. Reluctantly, he allowed her to help him regain his footing. "Yeah, I'm fine," he told her. "Ain't the first time he's done that," he added, giving Peso an annoyed look. The gelding whinnied, throwing his head in pure disrespect.

Peso had defused the situation quite nicely, and that even without wanting to. Vin couldn't really be angry with him for that. He went with the others without further fuss, letting Chris and Nathan help him so he didn't have to put his weight on his now decidedly painful foot, while he wished that it had been Jessie instead of the two others, who was helping him. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the help, but there was something about Jessie that made him just want to be held by her. Hell, if he had to be honest with himself, he wanted to do a lot more than be held by her. But once again he was reminded of how she had looked when Chris had turned up for supper that night a few days ago, and he figured it was probably for the best if she never found out how he felt about her.

Once in Nathan's clinic, where Jessie had been working with Nathan for the past two weeks, Vin reluctantly agreed to letting Jessie remove his boot. He sort of knew what to expect, considering the strain he had put on his foot over the past many days, but he hadn't really expected it to look that bad. The foot was swollen, the fairly new scars nearly purple, and the whole area felt burning hot.

Jessie stared at his foot for a moment, then raised her eyes to meet his. "You wanna spend the rest o' your life with a limp?" she asked him. "You wanna be unable to walk or ride ever again?"

"No, ma'am," he nearly whispered.

Nathan had turned his back on the whole thing and was staring out the window, muttering to himself. "Don't matter how much you do, it ain't enough," he growled.

Whatever opinion Chris might have, he kept to himself. He just stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, and watched the proceedings quietly.

Jessie shook her head angrily and wrapped a moist, cool cloth around his foot. "You're stayin' here until that's healed. And I don't give a damn what'cha think. You ain't impressin' anyone with that sort o' behavior," she told him, her voice as angry as her eyes. "Damned fool stubborn men," she added under her breath as she propped his foot up on a chair in a not entirely gentle manner. "You ain't walkin' on that and that's final."

"But..." Vin tried, but before he could say more, she had clamped a hand over his mouth and was leaning in real close, staring him in the eye.

"I said that's final," she warned him. "If you won't do it on your own, I'm gonna tie you down and sit on you," she added, unaware that he didn't exactly consider that a threat.

Chris couldn't help grinning. He sure was happy he wasn't on the receiving end of her fury this time around, but what really got to him was the helpless way in which Vin continued to give up when facing her. He had seen the way the younger man glanced at Jessie and it was an unending source of amusement to him that Vin actually seemed to believe he stood a chance with someone like Jessie. Jessie was like one of those wild horses, that couldn't be caught. Or that was what he figured. And he was actually dying to meet the man who'd married her.

"Now, go easy on 'im, Mrs. Landon," he said, trying to buy his friend some leeway.

Before he could say another word, Jessie had turned around to face him, her eyes still displaying her fury. "Would you stop callin' me that?" she almost snapped, then got a hold of herself again and straightened her back. "I ain't no Mrs. I ain't married."

Chris stared at her, unable to retain the surprise he felt at that revelation. Every one of them had thought she was married and that the fact that her husband wasn't around had to be explainable somehow. "You're not?" he asked, looking as surprised as he felt.

"No, I ain't. Never was," she replied more calmly. "So, what do you say, we skip this last name business and call each other by our first names?"

Chris stared at her. For some odd reason he couldn't define, finding out that she was single made him lose his power of speech. It was highly peculiar to him that he would respond that way, but he just couldn't seem to get past it.

Vin stared at her, too. When Chris didn't answer, he leaned forward a bit. "Sure," he said. "Jessie."

She glanced at him and smiled, all her previous anger gone again. Then she glanced at Nathan, who smiled back and nodded.

"Sounds like a fine idea to me," he said.

"What about you, Mr. Larabee?" Jessie asked, returning her attention to Chris, who continued to stare at her as if he had never seen her before.

Then he nodded once. "Sounds good, Jessie," he finally said and gave her a vague smile in return.

Four days later

Vin had been laid up for another four days due to his own stupidity, he figured, and it really ticked him off that he couldn't even allow himself to complain about it. It was, after all, his own fault.

For four days straight he had done everything Jessie told him to do, had taken it easy and actually enjoyed her continued attention despite everything. Although it went against his grain to be cooped up indoors, he said nothing about it.

Something had changed since he had learned that she wasn't married. Both between himself and her, and between Chris and her. He couldn't figure out what the latter was, though. Chris acted sort of strangely around her now.

The first chance Vin got, which was when Jessie finally declared that she was okay with him going out if he took it easy, he headed over to the saloon, walking slowly and favoring his foot, to have a word with the only person who might know what was going on, and that was Buck.

Sure enough, the big cowboy was once again hanging around Inez, trying desperately to 'thaw her out', as he put it. It was a bit of a surprise to Vin and the others that he seemingly didn't understand that Inez wasn't interested. But, since it was a continued source of amusement for all of them, nobody really tried to convince him apart from her.

Limping into the saloon, Vin briefly nodded to Ezra, who was doing what he did best, namely playing some sort of card game with some poor, unsuspecting fool about to lose every last dime to the gambler. Ezra nodded back, giving him a brief smile.

"Hey, Buck," Vin said, coming to a stop next to the big cowboy, who didn't look too happy about him turning up in the middle of everything.

"Hey, Vin," he replied, finally giving Inez a break. "How's it goin'?"

"Ain't too bad," Vin replied. "Got somethin' I wanna ask you. Figure you're the only one who might know," he added.

Buck grabbed a bottle and two glasses and nodded toward their regular table. "Wanna sit down?" he asked

Vin glanced toward the table, making sure in the process that none of the others were around, then he limped over there and settled down on his usual chair, while Buck did the same.

"So, what's up?" Buck wanted to know while pouring them both a glass of whiskey and handing one over to Vin.

"I'm a might worried. Since Chris found out Jessie ain't married, he's been kinda strange to her. Why's that?" He wasn't much for talking and hence didn't beat about the bush much. In his opinion, it was better to come right out and say what was on your mind.

Buck raised an eyebrow at that, emptied his glass, and leaned back on his chair. "Might be 'cause he's sweet on her or somethin'. It's easier to get out o' that if she's married. I got a feelin' he ain't quite ready to get serious again." Sending a thoughtful glance toward the windows, Buck made a face. "If he ever will be."

That was not really what Vin had wanted to hear, but he couldn't really say that without giving away how he was feeling about the whole thing. "You figure he won't get involved with 'er?" he asked, hoping for a positive answer.

Buck shrugged and poured himself another drink. "Well, I figured he'd get involved with someone else, if you's askin' me. But... Chris is a hard man to know. He ain't showin' too much on the outside. Makes it a might hard to guess what's happenin' on the inside."

Vin thought that through for a moment, pondering the meaning of Buck's words, then emptied his own glass and motioned for another one. "I reckon they'll work it out in time, huh?" he asked.

"Ain't entirely impossible," Buck agreed. "Another?" he asked, holding up the bottle, to which Vin nodded. "Ain't our business anyway, Vin. I ain't getting involved. Chris don't like it when others mess with his business."

"Yeah, his past ain't a topic for conversation," Vin said with a nod and smiled weakly.

+ + + + + + +

Chris didn't exactly know how to respond to anything at the moment. Things hadn't exactly become easier after learning that Jessie wasn't married. Well, in a sense that wasn't true, he thought. Although he liked her a lot and couldn't really stop comparing her to Sarah, he just couldn't see this heading anywhere. He knew why, too. Because of her similarity to Sarah. He wouldn't be able to stand being near her for longer periods of time. It would feel like being haunted by the ghost of his wife and he couldn't deal with that. Not until he had avenged her death, at least. Then, maybe, the similarity would become a blessing rather than a curse. But, until he had dealt with his demons, he couldn't and wouldn't drag anybody else into his life. It wouldn't be fair to Jessie, and when it came down to it, he wasn't even sure she was interested in him that way. They talked a lot and he found that her presence and her advice soothed him, but he didn't really feel physically attracted to her except for those moments when he saw Sarah in her.

With a shake of his head, he guided Pony out of town, heading toward his cabin to be alone for a while again. The bottles of whiskey he had bought clanged against each other in the right saddlebag. Going away to get drunk wasn't exactly the best of ideas, he figured, but he just needed some leeway right now and the only way he could still his mind was by drowning it in liquor.

"Where are you headin'?"

That question came out of nowhere and made him pull the reins tight, stopping Pony in his tracks. Turning in the saddle, he looked behind him, seeing Jessie on a horse of her own. She had come from elsewhere, but had veered off course when she had spotted him. "Up to my cabin," he replied, not in the mood to answer questions as to why he would want to be alone at this point.

"Mind if I ride with you a bit? There's a few things I wanna ask you," she said, pulling up alongside him.

Chris gave her a dark look, wanting nothing more than for her to go away. The last thing he needed right now was a reminder of his wife. "Don't take this the wrong way, Jess, but I was kinda hopin' for some quiet time right now. I'll be back in a few days," he said.

Jessie gave him a strange look, but didn't make any move to leave his side. "Drinkin' your brains out ain't gonna help none," she said. She was treading on ground none of his friends would willingly step on, but Jessie wasn't afraid of his temper.

"That's my business, Jess, not yours," he claimed and nudged Pony on. The quarter horse picked up his pace again, heading toward the cabin once more.

But Jessie wasn't going to give up that easily. She kneed her horse into motion as well, catching up to Chris with no trouble. "I admit I don't know all there is to know about what's ailin' you, Chris, but I know you're punishin' yourself for somethin' you had no control over. It ain't right and that's all I'm sayin'."

Chris found himself wishing that were true, but he figured she wasn't done yet, no matter what he said. "I do as I see fit," he said tersely. "And it still ain't any of your concern."

"Well, I ain't seein' it that way," she told him. "I ain't the type o' person who likes to see her friends go down the drain just 'cause they've got nobody to talk to about it. And talkin' helps, Chris."

Chris reined Pony in, stopping the horse in its tracks and turned angry eyes on this woman who was only trying to help him. "What do you know about loss, Jess?" he demanded angrily. "You ever lost someone dear to you in a brutal way? You ever bury a child, Jess?" He felt himself slipping back into that deep, dark pit that seemed to swallow him up hole more and more often these days. "I did. I buried my son. I buried my wife. And you know why? 'Cause some demented female couldn't take no for an answer. She killed my family 'cause she wanted me back. So, you tell me, Jess? You got any idea how that feels?"

She stared at him, eyes filled with regret and pity for his dark fate. "No, I got no idea how that feels. I can't even imagine it, Chris. I don't wanna. But that don't mean you can't take solace from those offerin' it. Listen to me, alright? Talk to me. Don't go up to your cabin and drink yourself into oblivion. It don't help. And you know that, too. I can see it in your eyes."

All he could do was stare back at her for a long moment, because her words made a hell of a lot more sense than he wanted them to. "Then what do you suggest I do, huh?" he asked, the majority of his anger deflated.

"Find someone to take your pain away. And I don't mean beddin' down with some woman you don't even know. Go be human again. Talk to someone. Hell, go hold someone you care about. Just don't do this alone no more."

Her eyes burned while she spoke, lit by an inner fire that told him she truly believed what she was telling him. And, in a strange way, it all made sense. For the first time in four years, he didn't feel like going out and getting mind-numbingly drunk. He felt like doing what she suggested. The only thing was, he didn't know how to go about it, had no idea how to approach the person he had in mind.

Jessie stared at him for a moment, then smiled weakly. She had accomplished what she had wanted to. He was thinking in a different way now. Reaching out, she took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "There ain't never been nobody in this world who could cope with heartache like yours all on their own. Now, come on, cowboy. Let's head on back to town and talk this through."

He made a face at her, but couldn't stop a somewhat helpless smile from spreading over his lips. "I ain't no cowboy," he told her and swung Pony around. "So, don't call me that."

Jessie chuckled under her breath. "Alright, then. Just as long as you ain't planning on any solitary drinkin' trips without invitin' me along."

That in turn made him chuckle lightly. "Oh, shut up," he told her good-naturedly as they slowly rode back to town.

+ + + + + + +

Vin saw them riding into town together and sighed. Well, at least she had managed to prevent Chris from drowning his sorrows once again. That was a positive thing. And there were other women out there, he added in thought. But why did they always fall for others? Shaking his head, he pulled his hat down over his eyes and leaned back on the chair he was sitting on outside the saloon. He was happy to be in one piece, to be back to normal, or as normal as his still sore foot would allow him to be. Whatever happened, at least he had his health. And his ornery mule of a horse, he added in thought and grinned to himself.

"Something funny, brother Vin?"

Pushing his hat back a little he glanced up at Josiah as the ex-preacher settled down on a chair next to him. "Nah," Vin replied. "Just thinkin' of my horse. He damned near took my arm off the other day."

Josiah grinned at that. "Got a mind of his own, that horse. Much like his owner," he said. Gazing down the street, he watched as Chris and Jessie dismounted their respective horses and settled down on the steps leading up to the boardwalk to talk. "Looks like our fearless leader has found a soul mate there," he added.

Vin glanced in that direction and nodded. "I reckon he has," he agreed. "About time too, if you ask me."

Leaning back on his chair, Josiah made himself more comfortable and said, "All good things come to those who wait. Patience is a virtue, you know."

The young tracker gave the ex-preacher a scrutinizing glance, wondering if Josiah had seen right through him. But the man didn't look at him, merely sat there with his head leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed, a thoroughly content expression on his face. Vin figured he was talking about Chris and left it at that. No need to start something he couldn't finish by asking what Josiah had meant by what he had said and then having to explain the reason for his question. Instead, he settled for copying Josiah's posture, pretending that all was right in the world. At least for now.

Two months later

With summer at its height, the town of Four Corners was even slower than usual. Everything was dry and the winds coming in from the plains were a pain, driving people and animals crazy with its consistency. It had been two full months since a drop of rain had fallen and a few wells had already dried out.

Mary Travis stood on the boardwalk outside the Clarion, staring hard up at a clear blue sky, wishing she could force the heavens above to give off some water. But there wasn't a cloud in sight. The low whinny of a horse made her glance in the direction of the saloon, where she saw Chris dismounting Pony. He tilted his head back to look up at the sky too, gave his horse a look and lead the sweat-glistening animal over to the livery. It would be murder to leave the horse outside.

As she watched him, not so uncommon thoughts roamed through her head, making her stare harden. He had probably come from the Landon homestead, she figured. He went there a lot. And although she did not begrudge him whatever happiness he could find out there, she did however mind that it was the Landon woman who was giving it to him.

No matter how she chastised herself, she could not subdue those feelings rising in her whenever she thought of them together. When they met in town, they were always cheerful, laughing, talking quietly to each other. Mary figured it was only a matter of time before they would announce their engagement and impending marriage. Odd as it was to her, she couldn't stand the thought. If that were to happen, and she felt she had a pretty good sense of things like that, she figured she might find another place to dwell. It was hilarious, in a way. No amount of threats or attacks on the town could drive her out, but her broken heart could. Shaking her head, she turned around and went back inside to continue the hot work it was to finish the latest issue of the Clarion. She had thought about putting a blurb about those two in the paper, bringing her assumptions out in the open, but had then thought better of it. It was none of her business, after all, and the town certainly didn't need its attention drawn to it, either. As it were, she figured there wasn't anybody in town who hadn't seen them together anyway.

"'Mornin', ma'am."

So engrossed was she in her own little world that she hadn't even heard Vin stepping into her office. But she caught herself before blurting out anything inappropriate. "Good morning, Vin," she said and gave him a somewhat shaky smile.

"Did I scare you?" he asked with a smile.

"I was just thinking. I wasn't paying attention," she replied and returned her attention to the press. "To what do I owe this honor?" she asked.

Vin settled down on the edge of her desk, watching her work for a moment. As usual, he took his time to answer, his words always well considered. "I's just takin' a walk. Figured I'd drop in on you," he finally replied.

"Well, that's nice of you," Mary said and finally closed the press, readying it to print the Clarion News. "Have you got something on your mind?" she asked, glancing at him over one shoulder.

Vin stared ahead of himself for a moment, considering all the things going through his head, then shrugged. "Nothin' much," he then said, knowing it was a full blown lie. He had lots on his mind these days and it had been there for two months now. Usually, he was able to let things go, to forget and push on, but this time around, he couldn't forget. He couldn't get over Jessie.

Mary sensed that he did want to talk about something, but couldn't really figure out what it might be. So she turned around to face him. "You seem mighty quiet these days," she said. "Quieter than usual."

"Oh, it ain't nothin'. Just me bein' silly really," he said, somewhat embarrassed that his preoccupation shone through like that. "Ain't nothing I wanna burden you with," he added and smiled. He liked Mary a lot, but she was more in the sister-category than anything else.

Mary's eyes narrowed. "Is it more that you've got someone on your mind?" she asked, having pinpointed the reason for him being in her office at this hour to that thought. Vin gave her a quick and uncertain glance before looking away. "That's it, isn't it?" she asked and the young tracker nodded once, saying nothing. "So, who is it? Anyone I know?" she wanted to know, wondering if maybe she could help him break the ice if that was what he needed.

Vin shrugged. He didn't want to say who it was, because it would seem downright silly if he was interested in someone else's woman. It certainly wouldn't be something Mary Travis would appreciate. He thought he knew her well enough for that. "It ain't gonna happen, so..." he began, but trailed off. Oh, how he wished it would happen. But it was unlikely that a woman like Jessie would fall for him in any event. It made it a hell of a lot harder when she was already interested in someone else.

"You don't know that," Mary tried. In light of her profession, she was usually able to satisfy her curiosity about others quite easily. Vin, however, was a hard man to talk to at times. If he didn't want to talk, he didn't talk, no matter how she pried. And she feared this might be one of those times, although she also felt that he actually wanted to talk about it. "Have you tried talking to her?"

Vin made a face. "It ain't that," he said. "She ain't... available."

That cleared a few things up for her and Mary nodded. "Oh," she said, understanding why he might have a hard time with this. This was the second time that he'd fallen for an 'unavailable' woman. "Is she married?" she asked, sympathetic to his plight.

"Not yet, she ain't. But I reckon it won't be too long," he replied and got up again. "Well, I'd best go. Got a few things to take care of," he added and tipped his hat to her before walking out briskly.

Mary stared at the doorway, a few things clicking into place. Could it be that he was interested in the Landon woman? How was that for cruel? She apparently wasn't the only one nursing a broken heart from that union. With a shake of her head, she returned to her work, intent on engrossing herself in something that would take her mind of this insanity.

+ + + + + + +

Buck made a face and threw down his cards. "Damnation," he sighed. "I ain't never gonna get this game." Leaning back, he downed another drink and gave Ezra a glare. "I'm out."

"I figured as much," Ezra replied and flashed him a smile. "What about you, young Mr. Dunne? Are you still set on losing the last of your earnings to me or shall we call it quits?"

"Don't goad the boy on, Ez. You know he can't leave it be," Buck warned him and then sent J.D. a warning glance when the boy was about to make a fuss again.

"I can take care of myself," J.D. pouted. "One more round, Ezra. Then I'm out," he added and pushed a wayward lock of hair away from his forehead.

"Very well," Ezra said and dealt new cards.

They played another round and finally, Ezra showed his cards, triumphant in his certainty that he had once again won. The smile froze on his lips, though, when J.D. laid his cards on the table and gave him an questioning look.

"Doesn't that mean I've won?" he asked innocently.

Buck started laughing out loud, finding great pleasure in seeing the gambler beaten by the youngest in their midst. "Way to go, kid," he said, slapping J.D.'s back and handing him a drink. "Drink up, boy. You earned it."

"Well, I'll be," Ezra said after regaining his composure. "You have potential, J.D.," he added, a glint in his eye.

Buck leaned forward, a suddenly cautious look in his eyes. "Oh no, you don't," he warned. "We got plenty to do to keep you outta trouble, pard. Ain't no sense in settin' him up to become like you," he said, waving a hand at J.D. and nearly hitting the younger man in the process.

"Would you rather he ended up bein' like you?" Ezra asked and smirked at the implied insult, which Buck naturally didn't get. "At least he stands a chance at increasin' his earnin's rather than lose every single dime he makes to the fairer sex."

Buck raised a finger, about ready to give him hell, when the batwing doors parted and Chris stepped in. He glanced around briefly, then headed over to join them. Taking a second to survey the situation, he smiled vaguely. "What's up?" he wanted to know.

Buck dropped his hand and settled back again, a discontent look in his eyes. "He just about cleaned me out and now he's suggestin' J.D.'s got potential to become a gambler," he explained and snorted with contempt. "As if we don't have trouble enough keepin' him outta trouble," he added, nodding toward Ezra, who looked like the whole situation was a hoot.

"All Ezra said was that I was good. I ain't never seen you win over 'im yet," J.D. inserted, angered by the fact that Buck couldn't at least agree that he had been able to hustle the hustler. Not that he had, though. He figured Ezra had let him win to get Buck all riled up. It seemed to be the gambler's purpose in life to do what he could to push Buck off balance, and he usually succeeded too. J.D. glanced at Ezra, who winked at him. Oh yes, this was a game, alright.

Chris merely smiled and sat down. "Perhaps you shouldn't let 'em get to you so much, Buck," he said, grabbed a glass and poured himself a whiskey. Before downing it, he met Buck's eyes and his smile widened.

"You're in an awful good mood today? Anythin' happen we oughta know about?" Buck asked, leaning forward again. He expected as much as to hear Chris tell him he was getting married again.

Chris made a face, then shook his head. "Nah, nothin' interestin'," he said, leaned back on his chair and sighed almost contentedly. "It's pretty hot out today, huh?"

"The wind is sure to drive someone into a frenzy pretty soon if it doesn't let up," Ezra agreed and started shuffling the cards, flipping single cards over and shoving them back into the deck one-handedly.

"Yeah, it's a bitch, ain't it?" Buck agreed. "Where's Vin gotten to? Anybody seen 'im today?" he then asked. He had noticed over the past many weeks that Vin's presence among them had become rather scarce. Not that he had been there much to begin with.

"I saw him come out o' the Clarion a few moments ago," Chris said and knocked back another drink. "He ain't been too sociable lately, has he?"

"Maybe he's just got things on his mind," J.D. suggested, glancing from one to the other.

"Maybe," Chris said and sighed. "Perhaps I should just go talk to him about it," he added and rose again. "I can't help thinkin' it's me he's avoidin'."

"Now why would he do that?" Buck asked, looking a little puzzled by that statement.

Chris shrugged and walked out again, leaving them behind.

Ezra glanced over his shoulder at the still swinging doors, then returned his attention to the deck he was still shuffling. "It might be somethin' about that little bacchanalia our fearless leader seems to have struck up with a certain young lady," he said, as the first actually voicing what the others were only thinking.

"You reckon they're both sweet on the same girl?" Buck asked, looking as if he didn't believe that for one moment. But it sounded reasonable when he thought about it. Vin had been spending a lot of time, gazing at Jessie in that special way. "Hot damn," he mumbled. "Now, ain't that just a fix."

"Just my thoughts, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra agreed. "I just hope it does not mean insoluble differences between our two compatriots." The thought had only now occurred to him and he put the deck down, looking somewhat apprehensive all of a sudden.

Buck didn't look too happy about this, either. He knew Chris well enough to know what a squabble this could cause. He didn't know Vin as well, but he knew enough of the young tracker to be aware of his stubborn nature and that could definitely cause a clash between the two. He just hoped that Vin was wise enough to back down if Chris confronted him about this. Nothing could tear two friends apart like a woman.

J.D. for once kept him mouth shut about the whole thing. He could sense there was more going on than met the eye here and he too was aware of how stubborn Vin and Chris were. Any thoughts he might have on the matter were his own and would remain that way unless someone asked for his opinion.

"Might I suggest that we have ourselves a little colloquy with the good preacher?" Ezra suggested while getting up. "I do believe Josiah might be the only one capable of settlin' any dispute before it arises."

Buck and J.D. rose too, both nodding. "Good idea," Buck agreed.

+ + + + + + +

Chris found Vin where he had thought he might be. In the livery. Stopping just inside the door, he watched while the young tracker continued to pack his horse as if he was heading out for a long time. "Hey, pard. Goin' somewhere?" he finally asked, surprised Vin hadn't heard him come in.

Vin didn't turn and that told Chris he had heard him, but had chosen to ignore his presence, another good indication that he was cross about something. "Just takin' a ride," Vin replied, still keeping his back to Chris.

"Must be a long one," Chris commented. "Were you plannin' on lettin' us know or are you just gonna take off again?"

Vin stopped moving for a second, once again telling himself that he had no right to respond the way he did, then sighed and turned around. "I ain't gonna be gone long, Chris. Didn't figure I needed to let'cha know my every move," he said, his tone a little defensive. "I ain't goin' huntin' or nothin'. Just ridin'. The town's too close for me right now."

"How come?" Chris wanted to know, sensing more than knowing that this thing was coming to a head. Vin was tense and that meant he was either gonna ride out angry or blow up in Chris' face about whatever was bothering him. The more he talked to him, the more he became aware that Vin's trouble was concerning him.

"I just need to be by myself for awhile. That's all," Vin replied, returning his attention to Peso.

Chris figured Vin wouldn't open up on his own, so he decided to nudge him. "You cross about somethin'?" he asked. He wasn't a man to come right out and say things, but he figured it was needed right now.

Vin made a face and briefly closed his eyes. Why was everybody always sticking their noses in his business, he thought. "No, ain't nothin' to be cross about," he said, his tone even more tense than it had been before. "I just need some space. There's too much noise in town for my likin' right now. I'll be back in a few days." With that, he swung into the saddle and urged Peso forward.

Chris stepped aside to let him pass, not at all happy about this. There was something nagging Vin. He just knew it was connected to himself in some manner or fashion, and he didn't like it one bit that Vin was avoiding him rather than talking about it. He watched Vin ride away for a moment, then dropped his head and sighed. "Damn," he mumbled. He'd have to wait with the answer to this question until Vin got back.

Staring down at the ground, the thought that the tracker might not be coming back hit him. Flinching, he raised his head and looked in the general direction Vin had disappeared in. Then he glanced over toward Vin's wagon and smiled curtly. The wagon was still there, full of whatever belongings Vin had. He would come back. Maybe not right away, but he would come back.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah looked from one to the other, somewhat confused about what Ezra, Buck and J.D. expected him to do about this obvious dilemma. "I do not believe it is our place to interfere here," he said after a moment. "They're grown men, both of them. They can work it out without killin' each other."

"Are you so certain about that? They both have quite a temper," Ezra said, sounding a little more upset about this than he should be.

Tilting his head to one side, Josiah regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "Why are you so concerned about this, brother?" he wanted to know.

"Why, it is never nice to see ones brothers in arms have a fallin' out over somethin' as elementary as a lady. Not that I don't understand the obvious attraction a single lady like Ms. Landon would have. I am, after all, a man myself. But I do believe it would be better for our team effort if we stuck together."

"In other words, Ez, you're worried about your position in town if Chris and Vin have a fallin' out, eh?" Buck asked, grinning at his own insight.

Ezra gave him a hurt look. "That would not be exactly the way I would put it, Buck, but essentially, that is what I mean, yes."

"I don't think we need to worry too much about them," Josiah said and shook his head with a smile. "Even if Vin does decide to leave us, which I of course hope he doesn't, that would not break up the rest of us. Let's just give it some time and see what happens. We can always patch up the pieces if the inconceivable should happen."

"Wise words from a wise man," Ezra agreed, tipping his hat to Josiah, who nodded his head in response. "Now, was it not you who said once that Mr. Larabee does not appreciate us discussing his private affairs?" he went on, turning his attention to Buck.

"I don't recall it bein' me who suggested this," Buck countered, waving a finger at Ezra, who merely chuckled under his breath.

J.D. merely shook his head and left to return to the jail and his duties there. There was, after all, nothing any of them could do to remedy this situation. The only ones capable of that were Chris and Vin, and Chris didn't even seem to know what this was about.

+ + + + + + +

As Vin rode out of town, the first clouds in months appeared on the horizon, gathering and spreading at the same time. He gazed up at the sky, sensing the heaviness in the air, which indicated that there might finally be some rain. "About time too," he mumbled to himself and reached down to pat Peso's neck. "Guess it's just you an' me, pard. Like always," he added.

He didn't really know what he hoped to accomplish by leaving town right now, but he just needed some quiet time to think things through and to get back to his center of balance. It seemed that every time he fell for a woman, his balance was tipped and he had a hard time finding his way back. It bothered him because he never seemed to be on the receiving end of this deal. The few women he had been involved with in his life had all ended up leaving him behind for one reason or another. He knew full well that he had been the one doing the leaving when it had come to Charlotte, but he also knew that she had essentially left him long before he had said the words.

After riding awhile with his head down, his eyes on nothing, he glanced up at the sky again and nearly sighed with exasperation. The clouds were a lot heavier than they'd been only half an hour ago and they were steel grey. Filled with rain, in other words. The wind was picking up too, raising dust devils from the dry ground. "Aw hell," he mumbled. If he wasn't entirely mistaken, the heavens were about to open up and let loose. He wouldn't be getting much further and there was absolutely nowhere around to seek shelter.

Peso trotted on, finding his own way because Vin did fairly little to guide him, and the gelding knew where he wanted to go. Instinct told the horse that it was going to get uncomfortably wet soon and he wanted to find shelter.

To Vin's dismay, it didn't start raining a little to then increase along the way as it usually did. The heavens just simply opened the gates and the water came crashing down over him, soaking him to the bone within minutes as sheets of water rained from the sky and the temperatures dropped dramatically. Not even his leather coat could keep out the wetness and he felt more than a little cursed right then. Tilting his head back a little, he stared angrily up at the sky. "Is that what I get for tryin' to do the right thing?" he yelled and wiped the back of one hand over his face in a futile attempt to remove the excess water. "Not only can't I find no happiness, but you gotta rub my face in it as well? Damn it all to hell."

Groaning, he looked around in search of some sort of shelter, finding it hard to make out anything through the torrents of water soaking everything around him. The area look familiar and he suddenly realized where Peso was heading. "Aw hell, you damned mule," he snapped, pulling the reins only to have Peso move on without hesitation. "We ain't goin' there and that's final," he yelled, but continued to be unsuccessful in reining in the gelding. Peso wanted shelter and he wanted it now, and there was no stopping him once his mind was set on something. "Peso, goddamn it," Vin tried. "We ain't goin' there. I ain't imposin' on anyone, least o' all her. Forget it. Now, quit bein' so goddamn stubborn, you ornery excuse for a mule."

No matter what he called the gelding or how he pulled and yanked at the reins, the horse just kept moving, refusing to listen to his equally stubborn rider, and before Vin could come up with another plan, Peso turned into the yard in front of Jessie's homestead and came to a halt in front of the stable doors.

"Damn you, Peso," he growled under his breath, not wanting to raise his voice in case Jessie heard him. He dismounted and quickly opened the stable door to let both Peso and himself inside. Jessie's horse whinnied in recognition of both of them, not making a fuss at their presence.

Vin didn't know what to do. He couldn't very well just waltz over there and ask her for shelter until the rain was over. He hadn't talked to her in nearly a month, neatly avoiding her every time she came to town, and he wouldn't feel right about imposing on her like this. For all he knew, Chris was here, too, and he certainly didn't need to see them together. That would hit the nail right on the head.

Shrugging out of his coat, he hung it to dry on one of the crossbeams, then went about drying Peso off. "I should shoot you for this, you know," he grumbled under his breath.

A sudden gust of wind ripped the stable door open and Vin hurried over to pull it shut again. "Damned wind. Ain't gonna do me no good if she sees it openin' all the time," he grumbled, secured the door as best he could and returned to brushing the water off Peso.

The Landon Homestead

Jessie stood by the window, staring out at the pouring rain, when the stable door suddenly ripped open. With a sigh, she reached for her rain slicker, ready to have to go out there to close the door again, when she saw someone doing it from the inside without being able to see who it was. With a frown, she watched as the door close again. "What the hell?" she mumbled to herself, then grabbed the slicker and shrugged into it. To be on the ready, she grabbed the old Colt her father had left behind and shoved it into the belt of her apron before heading out into the rain to see who was hiding in her stable.

She rushed across the yard and opened the stable door, slipping quickly inside and closing the door behind her. The sight that met her was a bit of a surprise, though. Apart from her own horse in its stall, Peso stood in the middle of the stable, half wet, Chico's brush lying on the floor next to him. The gelding turn his head and whinnied when he saw her.

"Well, well, well," she said, glancing around for the gelding's owner. He was nowhere in sight, though, which made her smile weakly as she crossed the floor to where Peso was standing. "What are you doin' all the way out here by yourself, Peso?" she asked, stroking a hand over his flank. "And wet as a drowned mouse too," she added.

Peso nudged her shoulder and she petted his nose. "Don't you think Vin'll miss you?" she asked the gelding. "You didn't throw him or nothin', did you? I wouldn't wanna have to go lookin' for him in this weather," she added, then sighed. "Then again, I reckon you didn't take your saddle off all by yourself, now did you?"

The rustle of hay made her glance toward the rear of the stable, where she found Vin standing halfway in and halfway out of the rear stall, looking at her in a to her mighty peculiar manner. "There you are," she said with a smile. "Nice weather you've chosen to go ridin' in," she added when he said nothing.

"Didn't see it comin' until it was too late," he said. "Sorry about bargin' in on you like this. That mule's got a mind o' his own and he figured you'd put us up until the rain's over."

"Well, you could 'ave come over to the house," she said, giving him the once over. He was wetter than his horse. "I don't bite, you know."

That made him smile a little hesitantly. "I wouldn't agree with that," he told her.

Jessie shook her head with bemusement. "Well, let's dry this horse o' yours and get you dry as well. You'll catch your death in them wet clothes," she told him.

Four Corners

When the heavens opened up and poured all its water down over the territory, Chris was caught on the boardwalk in front of the Clarion. The way the rain came down made him hesitate to venture out into it, knowing full well that even the short sprint over to the next boardwalk would leave him soaked.

Making a face, he stared out at the rain, wondering how long it was going to come down like that.

"When it rains, it pours, doesn't it?" Mary said from the open doorway, wiping her hands on her ink-blotted apron.

"Sure does," Chris agreed, glancing back at her for a moment. Then his gaze drifted past her to something happing in the rear. "Looks like your roof's got a leak," he added.

Mary swirled around and gasped at the water dripping down through the ceiling onto her desk. She hurried back inside to save what she could on the desk and, to Chris' immediate surprise, cursed heartily under her breath. "Oh, damnit," she snapped, settling for pushing the remaining things to the floor before dropping the rest on a table in the rear of the room.

Chris raised an eyebrow, but couldn't help smiling. "You need some help there?" he wanted to know, watching her from the doorway as she started picking up the things she had thrown on the floor.

Mary gave him a somewhat flustered glance. "Could I persuade you to go upstairs and see if you can find out where that leak is coming from? Maybe stop it? My work is getting soaked," she begged.

"Sure," he said and walked briskly across the room and up the stairs in search of the hole, which he found in her bedroom. The room was just as neat as the rest of whatever she touched and he couldn't help smiling at that, something he had become aware he was doing a lot lately. A folded-up towel lay on the tidy bed and he grabbed that and looked up at the ceiling. That roof would need patching once the rain had stopped, but until then, he would have to plug it up with that towel and find a bucket for whatever would seep through. Looking around, he searched for something to stand on, but the only chair in the room looked a little too rickety and definitely too old for that sort of thing. Instead, he kicked off his boots, not wanting to get her pristine white bedspread dirty, and stepped up on the bed to stuff the towel into the opening between the ceiling boards.

Just then, Mary turned up in the doorway and looked up at what he was doing. "Is it big?" she asked, a worried frown creasing her brow.

"Nah, not big. Just big enough to let a steady stream o' water through," he replied, still stuffing the towel into the hole. "I suggest you put a bucket beneath that until the rain stops. The towel won't hold it out long," he added, glancing down at her.

"Right," she said and hurried off to find a bucket, which she then placed under the hole just in time. Water started dripping into the bucket almost at that very moment. Glancing around, she surveyed the mess the water had made on the floor, and sighed heavily. "What a mess. I thought that roof was supposed to be watertight," she said and tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling again, while Chris jumped off the bed and put his boots back on.

"I'd be happy to take a look at it for you once the rain stops," he suggested, looking up at the ceiling, too. "That way you wouldn't have to pay nobody for it," he added with a smile.

Mary smiled back at him, a little confused. "Well... uh... I may take you up on that, Chris," she said. "Thank you for your help. Can I get you anything? A cup of coffee maybe?"

"I wouldn't say no to that," he replied, still smiling.

Together they went downstairs again after Mary had cleaned up the water from the floor and he had helped her with it. They settled down in the small kitchen after Mary had made some coffee for them.

The rain persisted, coming down like there was no tomorrow, driving people off the streets. Four Corners looked much like a ghost town at that time.

Mary sat still, listening to the rain hitting the house while she watched Chris from the corner of her eyes. He sat quietly across from her, his hands wrapped around the mug, his eyes on the steaming coffee. And he still smiled. She wondered about that smile on his lips, about his change of attitude toward things. He didn't seem so burdened any more, so tired of life. It was a welcome change, granted, but she couldn't help thinking about the woman who had done this to him. Was she serious about him? Or would she break his heart? Would anybody ever be able to pick up all the pieces if that happened?

"There's something very soothing about the sound of rain, isn't there?" she said after a moment.

"Yeah, I guess," Chris replied and looked up to meet her eyes. Then he glanced around with a frown. "I haven't seen Billy around."

"He's staying with a friend. I had some work to do, so he went there. He's probably going to spend the night there too," Mary explained, thinking it very sweet of him to worry about her son's whereabouts.

"Oh," Chris said, nodding in understanding. "So, you've got the house all to yourself eh," he added and gave her a quick smile.

"Yes, I guess I do," she agreed and couldn't stop the helpless blushing of her cheeks. Why was she responding this way to him? He was probably on the verge of getting married to another woman and here she was, responding to his presence in a very ungainly manner.

Chris took a sip of the coffee. "This is good," he said, raising the mug for a second. "So, what were you plannin' on doin' after you done your work?" he wanted to know.

Mary gave him a surprised look, confused about what she thought she heard in his voice. He had a gleam in his eyes she hadn't seen there before and it made her wonder what he was thinking. "Well, I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted. "I am probably just going to fix myself some dinner and go to bed early. It's rare that I get time to do that these days," she said.

And still he had that smile on his lips. "I reckon that might be a good idea," he agreed. "Mary, there's somethin' I've been wantin' to talk to you about. Somethin' that's been on my mind for a bit."

Once again, she felt heat rising in her cheeks and quickly looked away, feeling like a silly schoolgirl. She had no idea what he was going to say, but the tone of his voice made her spine tingle. "And what is that?" she asked, having regained enough of her composure to face him again.

"Well," he began and sighed. "I reckon I owe you an apology for... well... a whole lotta things. I know I ain't been easy to be around and... well... you've been mighty kind to the lot of us." He paused and took another sip of the coffee. "What I'm tryin' to say, I guess, is that you're a mighty fine woman, Mary, and I figure I ain't given you the respect you deserve."

Mary only became aware that she was staring at him when he gave her a funny look. "Uh... well... that's alright, I guess," she said, not sure how to respond to that. "Why are you saying that now?" she wanted to know, figuring if he could open up all of a sudden, so could she.

Chris shrugged. "Just figured it needed to be said is all," he replied and took another sip of the coffee. "You figure Gerrard is ever gonna come back?"

She was a bit stunned by his bluntness, but was slowly picking up the pace, too. If he could ask her questions like that, she could ask him about Jessie. She wanted to know for certain, to be sure she wasn't making things up. "I don't know, really. I've always cared for him, but it was Steven I fell in love with," she confessed. Raising her eyes to meet his dead on, she stared at him for a moment. "So, are we hearing wedding bells any time soon?"

That took him completely by surprise and for a moment she thought he was going to clam up like he always did. But there were no immediate signs of that. "Uh... pardon?" he asked, genuinely confused by her question.

"Well, I figured since you and Ms. Landon have spent so much time together..." she started, but felt herself taken aback by the somewhat mortified look on his face. "I mean... I didn't mean to pry. This isn't something I'll put in the paper or anything. I was just... wondering."

The Landon Homestead

Vin didn't feel right about being at Jessie's place, but on the other hand, there was nothing he wanted more. Wet as he was, he was beginning to shiver since the temperatures had dropped dramatically when the rain had started to fall and he was freezing already. Tired and worn from being tense for two months straight had put its mark on him, as well, and he couldn't claim that he wasn't grateful for the attention Jessie bestowed on him every time they did meet. He just didn't want to come between her and Chris, and knowing Chris the way he did, he figured the gunslinger would lose that famous temper of his if he found out about this. So, to say that he was comfortable with the situation would be a downright lie.

Jessie pulled a couple of towels out of a chest of drawers and handed them to him. "Here you go," she said and gave him a scrutinizing look before reaching up to remove his soaked hat. "Look at you. You're soaked to the bone and shiverin' bad enough to rattle me," she added. "Go get changed. I'll bring you something warm to drink in a second." When he didn't move, she grabbed his shoulder and turned him toward the corridor leading toward the rooms. "Go on. Git," she told him. And still he didn't move. "What do I gotta do, shove you all the way down there?" she asked, grabbed his shoulders and pushed him forward. "I figure you remember the room, don'cha?"

"Yes, ma'am," he finally managed to reply and headed toward the door, sending a confused glance back at her over one shoulder. She sure was pushy sometimes. Shaking his head and thereby spreading water all over the place, he opened the door and stepped inside the room, taking a quick look around before he closed the door behind him again. "This ain't right," he mumbled to himself, took one step toward the bed and landed on the floor with a resounding thump, hitting his right elbow hard enough to make his fingers tingle. "Ow," he groaned, uncertain about what had just happened.

Jessie heard the crash and ran down to the door, pushing it open and nearly hitting him in the head with it. "Jeez," she exclaimed and barely caught herself before she too landed on the floor next to him. "Aw hell, I forgot I waxed the floor in this room yesterday," she growled. "You'd best take one o' the other rooms. This here room's a deathtrap right around now," she added and returned to the safety of the corridor floor.

Getting up was a struggle. Not because he had hurt himself but because the floor was slicker than an iced-over lake in wintertime. He managed to precariously regain his feet only to lose his balance and sit down hard again. Making a face at the stinging pain that caused, he gave her a strange look. "Who in their right mind waxes a floor?" he asked her.

For some odd reason, his present dilemma seemed to give her a reason to laugh, which she did so hard that she nearly started crying. Sniffing, she reached a hand down to him. "I'm sorry, Vin. Did you hurt yourself?" she asked, still smiling broadly as she helped him back to safety.

"I hit my elbow 's all," he replied, rubbing the sore spot there and couldn't help smiling. This was pretty funny, now that he thought about it. "Are you tryin' to kill me or somethin'?"

That caused another bout of laughter from her as she opened the door to another bedroom. "I am sorry, Vin. Truly I am. I swear, I just plain forgot about it."

Vin shook his head with that smile still on his lips. "No harm done, I reckon," he said, then gave her a somewhat uncertain glance. "Uh... I ain't got nothing else to wear and... well... as you said, I'm soaked through."

"Well, the only other option is a blanket, then. You can't run around in them here wet clothes," she told him, having gained full control over herself again. "Just get outta that and I'll hang it up to dry," she told him, nodding toward his clothes. "You can wrap that around yourself," she added, pointing at a blanket lying on the bed.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, nodded once and closed the door on her. Only then did he allow himself to express his agony. He'd hurt his backside pretty badly by sitting down like that. "Damn," he hissed through clenched teeth, rubbing the sore spot tentatively. "I ain't gonna be able to sit down for a week."

Jessie, still standing on the other side of the door, clapped a hand over her mouth to still the impending burst of laughter and hurried back to the common room to pull the kettle off the fire.

Vin was out of his clothes by the time she returned and it came as much as a shock to him as it surprised her that she completely neglected to knock and simply barged in on him. He managed to rip a towel up to cover himself with, giving her a startled look. Jessie was fast to respond by closing the door again and couldn't help raising an eyebrow in surprise. That man was just full of surprises. "Sorry," she called.

"No harm done," he called back, his cheeks burning red. But he couldn't help smiling, either. This was turning out to be one topsy-turvy day.

Four Corners

The saloon was awfully quiet, considering that it was packed with people. It mainly had something to do with a high-stakes poker game in progress, and everybody was watching.

Ezra stared stoned-faced at his cards, then gave the opposition a scrutinizing look. "Are you absolutely certain you want to continue down this path of utter humiliation?" he asked. "There will be no hard feelin's if you decide to lay down your cards and back out of this game."

"I ain't quittin'," Buck replied, staring hard at his own cards, his face displaying everything he was thinking.

Ezra sighed and shook his head. It never bothered him to clean out everybody else, but it did when it were his friends. Especially since there would be sore feelings and perchance retribution afterward. And he certainly did not want a falling out with Buck Wilmington. The man was just to big and hot-tempered for that sort of thing.

Making a face, the gambler sighed again. What was he going to do when the man didn't want to lay off? In his humble opinion, there was really only one thing he could do. Glancing at the big cowboy, he shuffled his cards a few times. He would break the fundamental rule of his own game. He had done it before, but never so obviously as he did now. Buck would lose this round and Ezra could only hope he agreed to another, which he believed the man would since he was still in possession of one dollar.

So, he laid down his cards, showing Buck that he had once again won, and gave him an apologetic smile. "Are you game for another round or should we just call it quits?" he asked, fully aware that he was goading Buck on.

For a moment, Buck stared at him, then sighed deeply. "Alright. One more round. But then I'm out," he replied, his expression a mixture of hope and defeat.

Ezra merely smiled, picked up the cards, shuffled the deck and started dealing again. It hadn't taken much calculation to realize that he could easily go without the pile of money on the table. He had seen good times lately and had the neat sum of nearly one thousand dollars put aside. Losing a measly one hundred would not sting as much when he knew a friend had won it... because of his own design. He felt downright benevolent when he dealt Buck the winning hand.

Buck picked up his cards and couldn't help staring, not for one minute thinking it might give anything away. Then he glanced at Ezra with a scrutinizing look. "You hustlin' me?" he asked.

Ezra raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Am I to understand that you are accusin' me of cheatin', Mr. Wilmington?" he asked back, his tone of voice hurt. "Well, if that is how you see it, maybe we should just stop right now."

"No, no," Buck was quick to say, uncertain about this hand. He had played cards with Ezra nearly from the very first day and had never had such outstanding cards before. He couldn't help thinking that Ezra might have something up his sleeve.

Ezra made a face and picked up his own cards, barely preventing himself from flinching at the bad hand he had dealt himself. But it was all for a good cause, he convinced himself and looked up to face Buck. "Let us settle this," he said.

Buck flipped his final coin into the pile, that look of uncertainty still on his face, while Ezra matched him without so much as a bat of an eyelash. They continued their game for a bit until Buck couldn't possibly conceive how he could lose with this hand, his expression not concealing his triumph. Ezra figured Buck was ready to win and although he knew Buck wouldn't let him live this one down until the end of time, he still went ahead with his intended play, fully aware of how powerful a hand his friend was holding.

Smiling, he laid down his cards. Not an entirely bad hand, he had to admit, but not enough to beat the hand Buck was holding. "Three Knights. Read 'em and weep," he said, keeping up the charade.

Buck eyed his cards for a moment longer, dragging out the suspense, but finally found himself incapable of retaining his smile. Spreading out his three kings, he gave Ezra an innocent look. "Well, I do believe that Kings have a higher status than Knights, if I'm not mistaken," he said, grinning broadly. "Or what do you think, huh, Ez?"

Ezra stared at the cards, pretending to be very surprised and more than a little disconcerted about it, then shook his head in dismay. "I do believe you have beaten me at my own game, Mr. Wilmington," he finally admitted and that raised a cheer from the crowd. One which attracted Nathan's attention. The healer usually didn't bother watching their games, especially when Ezra took on one of their friends. The gambler always won except when it came to J.D., and Nathan knew he let the boy win. But this was an odd development and he drifted closer to listen in on whatever might be said.

Buck rose, the triumphant winner of no small amount of money, and bought drinks for everybody. Then he turned his attention back to Ezra, who still looked a little shaken by the whole thing. "Had to happen sooner or later, eh, Ez?" he said. "You can't keep winnin' like that."

That made Ezra smirk lightly. "Well, I am nothin' if not a good loser, Sir," he said, rising from his chair to shake hands with Buck. "Thank you for an interesting game. I am not likely to repeat this experience, I assure you."

Buck laughed out loud and clapped him on the shoulder. "You are one hell of a gambler, Ez. I'll give you that," he said and turned to his suddenly adoring fans.

Nobody but Nathan noticed the content smile on Ezra's face and he stepped over beside the gambler to watch the commotion for a moment. "I never knew you had it in you," he said quietly.

Ezra gave him a surprised look. "And what might that be?" he inquired.

"You let 'im win, Ezra. I know you did. Buck's concentration is shorter than an August shower. He ain't never won over you before and I bet he never will again. Still, it was good o' you to do it. It makes 'im feel good," Nathan replied and gave Ezra's shoulder a squeeze before heading back over to the bar.

Ezra grinned and sat back down on his chair. "Sometimes, I do not know what comes over me," he said quietly and shook his head.

+ + + + + + +

Chris stared at Mary for a long moment while certain issues clicked into place. There had been a lot of whispering going on in town over the past two months and he had wondered about it from time to time, but hadn't given it much thought in general. Now, however, he realized that the whispering had been about him and Jessie.

"Oh lord," he mumbled and dropped his gaze back to his mug of coffee while he racked the fingers of his right hand through his hair. This wasn't exactly the kind of issue he had wanted to discuss with Mary, but he sure understood now why she had looked so confused when he had started asking her questions. It would look very peculiar that he was sitting here with her if he was about to get hitched to someone else. "Mary," he said, raising his head again to face her. "I ain't exactly sure what started this, but there ain't nothin' goin' on between me an' Jessie. We're just talkin' a lot. She's helped me through a rough spot and I owe her for that, but... that's all there is to it."

Mary blinked in confusion. Had he just said what she thought he had? "Am I to understand that you and Ms. Landon are not involved?" she asked, trying to set things straight.

"Essentially... yeah," he replied with a nod and couldn't help finding the whole thing a little funny. "It must 'ave looked a might odd to you that I'm sittin' here with you, if you're thinkin' I was gonna get together with Jess," he added.

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Mary admitted. She couldn't entirely hide her elation. This was good news indeed. Especially since it had made her think more clearly when she had thought he'd fallen for Ms. Landon, and this had raised the issue on how she felt about him. But, something suddenly popped into her mind to undermine the happiness she was feeling. "Oh dear," she mumbled, suddenly frowning. "I don't know if you're aware of this, Chris, but Vin has a thing for Ms. Landon, and he's been struggling awfully hard with this whole thing," she added.

That in turn caused Chris to make a face. "Damn," he grumbled. "I should 'ave known that was the problem. If he thinks the same thing you did, that'd explain why he's been behavin' so odd lately. He just took off this mornin' and he's been avoidin' me for nearly a month."

Mary was instantly worried about that. "You don't think he's left for good, do you?" she asked.

Chris knew that Mary had a weak spot for the tracker and he couldn't say he blamed her. He had that same spot himself. Shaking his head, he rose. "Nope, I reckon he'll be back when he's good 'n ready, but I figure it might be a good idea if I rode out after him. Ain't no sense in lettin' him stew in this for a few days. It'll only make things harder."

"Chris," Mary exclaimed, rising too. "You can't go out in this weather. Vin has probably taken shelter somewhere. At least wait until the rain is over," she said.

For a moment, the gunslinger hesitated, already halfway out the kitchen door, but then he turned around and sat back down. "You're right. And I can't find 'im if he don't wanna be found," he replied and shook his head. "Of all the goddamned, stubborn things he's done, this is just about the worst," he said, shaking his head with annoyance. "Why won't he talk to me about things like that?" he then asked, looking over at Mary. He was somewhat taken aback by the smile on her lips. "What?" he asked.

Pursing her lips, Mary glanced away. "Oh, you just sound like an overprotective father rather than a friend," she said and met his eyes again.

That gave cause to a grimace, which was quickly broken by a smile. "He ain't the one to get in trouble, but he does tend to be more stubborn than that ornery mule of a horse he's got. Ain't no tellin' what he's doin' right now."

Mary couldn't help chuckling at that. "Well, Vin can take care of himself. He's a big boy, you know," she told him.

Chris nodded. "Right you are. So, let's get back to what I was tryin' to say to you before. 'Cause now I ain't got no reason not to say it."

Mary found herself holding her breath in anticipation and had to force herself to exhale and then draw another breath. She scolded herself for the thoughts going through her head right then and at the same time wondered if he was going to say what she hoped he might. "Alright. So, talk," she suggested.

"Well," he started, reached across the small table and took her hand in his. "I ain't one for fancy words... like Buck or Ezra. An' I don't make commitments easily, either. But when I make 'em, I stick by 'em." A smile crossed his lips while he considered how she might respond to what he was going to say, knowing there was only one way to go and that was straight ahead. "I've grown mighty fond of you, Mary. An', I was wonderin'... since you ain't got nobody and I sure ain't got nobody, that maybe... you know."

It was with no small amount of surprise that she listened to his stumbling words. It had never occurred to her that he would find it hard to get things said. But this wasn't easy for him. Wondering if maybe she wasn't reading all this wrong, she ventured a guess anyway. "Are you... proposing?" she asked somewhat hesitantly, a half-smile on her lips.

That made him smirk a little. "Well... yeah, I reckon I am."

Staring at him, she couldn't really determine what it was about him that attracted her so much. Maybe it was his unwavering loyalty to those close to him. Maybe it was his sense of honor. Maybe it was just the way he looked. She couldn't say for certain, but what she could say was that she wanted this. Not the way she had considered marrying Gerrard. She wanted this man in a totally different way. She knew he would be a good father to Billy and she knew he would be a good husband to her. Above all she knew that she loved him.

"So, what do you say? If you need time... that's fine. Just... give it some thought, alright?" he asked her, a little uncertain about her silence.

"Well," she said and dropped her gaze to their locked hands. "I don't think I need to give it thought." Raising her head again, she looked right into his eyes. "Yes, I will marry you if you'll have me." She didn't really know what she had expected when she said yes to his proposal. She hadn't really expected much of anything. But she hadn't expected to see his eyes fill with tears.

He pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it, not taking his eyes of her. "Sure I'll have you. Ain't nobody else I'd rather have," he replied, then grinned broadly and pulled her over to him and onto his lap, causing her to giggle like a little girl. "I'll make you proud," he whispered to her and gently kissed her.

Mary smiled back at him, running her fingertips over his face. "You already do," she replied quietly. "May I make a suggestion?" she then asked.

"Anythin'," he agreed, not sure what came next.

"Let's seal this deal. Billy isn't coming home tonight and I don't think this rain is going to let up any time soon, so you might as well just stay here," she told him, rose and tugged at his hand. "Come on, cowboy," she added with a smirk.

The Landon Homestead

With a towel around his waist and still shivering from the chill that had gotten into him, Vin tried to dry his hair but had to give it up after a moment. He had obviously hit his right elbow worse than he'd thought, because every time he tried to bend the arm more than just a little, a series of red-hot lightning bolts of pain shot through his arm, numbing his fingers again and making it impossible for him to complete the action of toweling his hair dry. "Shit," he hissed and pensively rubbed his elbow.

Instead, he grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around himself to get a little warmer. Just then, there was a tentative knock on the door.

"Are you decent?" Jessie called.

He couldn't help smiling at that. "As decent as I can get," he called back. "Come on in."

The door swung open and she gave him a scrutinizing look before stepping inside. "Sorry about before. I wasn't thinkin'," she said with a somewhat sly smile on her lips and started picking up his wet, discarded clothes. "Come on back to the common room. I got a fire goin' and some hot coffee for you," she added, waving him with her. Once again it seemed impossible to get him to talk to her and Jessie merely smiled and headed back the way she'd come.

Vin stood there for a moment, uncertain about how to respond, then sighed and followed her. He might as well, before he got a cold and had to stay in bed. That would make this situation even more intolerable.

She pointed him to a chair by the stove and he settled down on it, still cold. After handing him a cup of coffee, she gave him another scrutinizing look. "You haven't done too good a job with your hair," she told him. "It's drippin'."

"I reckon I hit my arm harder 'n I thought. It won't bend at the moment," he replied and held the towel out to her. "It'll dry on its own," he added.

"Well, maybe it will, but by then you'll have a cold and that ain't good," she said, took the towel away from him and stepped behind his chair. "Sit still," she told him when he tried to see what she was doing.

The feeling of having someone dry his hair brought back childhood memories half forgotten and instead of making a fuss about it, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation along with the memory of his mother, who had done that for him when he was a child.

Jessie had never really thought about it before, but she enjoyed touching him. There was something about him that made her think of a little boy and at the same time, she was quite attracted to the man in him. Those thoughts made her sigh lightly when she raked her fingers through his hair, pulling it back from his face and at the same time straightening it out a little. "There you go. That should make you more comfortable," she told him and hung the towel up to dry next to his clothes. Then she sat down across from him, nothing but the corner of the table between them, and just looked at him.

"Thanks," he said, avoiding her eyes. He still didn't feel right about being out here, although he did figure Chris wouldn't be turning up any time soon with the weather being as bad as it was.

"So," she said, causing him to send her a quick glance before looking away again. "Are you gonna tell me why you've been avoidin' me for the past month?" she wanted to know.

He could actually feel himself pale. This was one of the reasons why he hadn't wanted to bother her. He figured she would ask him questions he wasn't willing to answer, and that made him very uncomfortable. "I ain't been avoidin' you," he tried. "Just never got the chance to talk to you when you were in town."

Jessie kept staring at him, aware it was making him uncomfortable. "That's just a lot of hooey and you know it," she told him in no uncertain terms. "Now, why don'cha come clean and tell me what's botherin' you?" she demanded. At the look in his eyes, she raised a hand. "And don't give me any of that hurt pride stuff, neither. Just tell me the truth. What's goin' on? I thought we were friends."

His attempt to get upset had been shot down before it had even taken off and he was completely lost right then. He had no idea what to say, since saying what was really on his mind would most definitely drive a wedge between himself and Chris, and he didn't want that to happen. Not over something like this. So, instead, he settled for dropping his gaze to the floor, and maintained a nearly morose silence.

"Are you angry with me?" she wanted to know after a moment.

That made him look up at her. "No, I ain't angry. I just..." he tried, then shook his head. "I can't explain it. I shouldn't be here," he added.

"An' why not?" she asked, a little confused about that statement.

"I's caught out in the rain. I should 'a just gone back to town," he replied as if that cleared anything up.

"Well, you were obviously closer to here," she countered. "It seems your horse has more sense than you do," she added with a small smile. "Would you just tell me what's goin' on, Vin? I can't read your mind."

'Heaven forbid,' he thought, and only barely avoided giving her a startled stare. "There ain't nothin' goin' on, Jessie. It ain't you. It's just... I ain't good with other people," he said, knowing it made no sense. But he didn't know what else to say. "I ain't good at explainin' myself."

Jessie had to nod to that. "Ain't that the truth," she said, hoping she could get a rise out of him to get him say something he was trying to hide from her. But he merely continued to stare at a spot on the floor. She considered a whole lot of ways she could get him to say something and wondered if any of them would really work. Whatever was on his mind had to be weighing him down. She could tell just by looking at him.

With a heavy sigh, she leaned back on her chair, not taking her eyes of him. If she could make him squirm, he might tell her what was up. "Vin," she said after a moment. But he didn't even twitch. "Look at me," she tried and only got a brief glance out of that. "Somethin's on your mind. Somethin' heavy. If you need to talk about it, you can talk to me. I ain't tellin' anybody. I cross my heart an' hope to die."

It was getting harder by the minute to just sit there and know how close she was to him without being able to touch her. He figured if he tried, she would probably deck him and throw him out, though. And how could he tell her what was on his mind when it was her he was thinking about, longing for. He set his jaw, clenching his teeth so hard together that his jaws actually creaked, and said nothing.

Briefly glancing over her shoulder at the windows, she noted that the rain was still coming down by the buckets out there, and she briefly closed her eyes to consider the situation. Then she did the only thing she could think of that might startle him into talking. She rose from her chair, settled down on his lap, wrapped her hands around his face and kissed him. What she had intended to be a surprise attack turned out to become a whole lot more, though, when his arms nearly automatically slipped around her, and he returned her kiss much more passionately than she had thought him capable of.

When they finally let go of each other, she leaned back a little and was somewhat disconcerted by the mortified look in his eyes. She herself was a little surprised by this turn of events, but no more so than that she could easily handle it. "I like you, alright? I like you a lot. And it hurts me to see you hurtin' like this. So, why don'cha just talk to me?" she tried again.

He swallowed visibly and looked away, searching desperately for something to look at so he wouldn't have to look at her. "I... shouldn't 'a done this," he finally muttered under his breath.

Jessie frowned at his words. "An' why not?" she asked back.

The fact that she could ask him a question like that put him way beyond being mortified. He was very close to pushing her off his lap as he stared at her in pure confusion. "How can you ask that?" he demanded. "This ain't right. This ain't somethin' we should be doin' behind his back. Hell, this ain't somethin' we should be doing, period."

It took a second to sink in what he had said and it still made no damned sense to her at all. "Uh... behind whose back?" she finally asked, not certain they were on the same track right now.

Vin stared at her, a frown creasing his brow. He briefly wondered if she suffered from memory lapses or something similar. "Chris, of course," he finally managed to say, scrutinizing her expression for a sign of recognition or understanding. She still looked utterly confused, though.

"What does Chris have to do with this?" she asked.

At that very second, he gave up on being careful and sparing her feelings or whatever it was he was supposed to do, and shook his head in disbelief. "With all the time you two have spent together, I figured you'd get married soon," he said. Some part of him wished desperately that she would dispute it.

That came as a surprise to her. "Married?" she exclaimed, staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Why in the name of the Lord would I get married to Chris?" she asked. "We've talked a lot, yes, but that's all. There ain't nothin' goin' on between me an' Chris. Where'd you get a fool idea like that?"

The small glimmer of hope was beginning to burn brighter. "Nothin'?" he asked, full of doubt.

"Nothin' at all. Hell, I like Chris, but I ain't gonna marry him just 'cause o' that," she said with a smile. "He's a friend and that's all."

For a moment he felt like smiling, then his cheeks started burning with the fire of embarrassment and he looked away again. "Aw hell," he mumbled.

Jessie took a hold of his chin and turned his face toward her. "You thought I's gonna marry him and that's why you've been behavin' like that?" she asked him and he nodded with a defeated expression. "Hell, Vin, have you ever heard o' talkin' to others?" she wanted to know, smiling. "You could 'a just asked, couldn't you?"

"This ain't the kinda thing you ask people about," he mumbled, dropping his gaze again.

"Like hell it is," she replied and kissed his brow. "Now, would you just stop bein' such a fool and kiss me?"

That request brought a careful smile to his lips. "This ain't just a fling, is it?" he asked, trying to come to terms with the fact that not only had he been utterly mistaken about the connection between her and Chris, she was also expressing genuine interest in him.

"Well, that sure depends on what you wanna make of it, hon," she replied with a soft smile on her lips. "I am open to suggestions."

That was good enough for him and they kissed again. His expression had become a little devious by the time she leaned back again. "I ain't wearin' nothin' underneath here," he told her as if she didn't know that.

That made her grin. "Well, I wasn't countin' on that, neither," she replied and pushed her fingers into his hair, pushing it away from his face. "Me an' Chris," she then said and chuckled. "Of all the fool ideas..." she went on, but he stopped her by kissing her again.

Four Corners

The Following Morning

Chris woke up slowly, for the first time in a long time feeling like he didn't want to get up because it just felt good to lie down. And it was not because he had a hangover or because he was too depressed to get up. He just felt good, relaxed, lazy.

Half awake, he shifted his position, turning his face into the pillow, and stopped dead. The crisp white bed linen beneath him smelled faintly of roses, a smell he certainly didn't associate with his bed. Raising his head, he looked around the bedroom, realizing that, what he had thought had been a dream, wasn't. He had proposed to Mary the day before, and she had said yes. And they had sealed the deal in her bedroom. Rolling over, he sat up and ruffled his hair with both hands, looking around.

The sun was shining from a clear blue sky, yesterdays rain all but gone. The towel was still stuck in the hole in the roof, but the bucket had disappeared. As he sat there, wearing nothing but the sheet covering him to the waist, he felt a smile slip over his lips.

Before he could make up his mind about what to do next, the door suddenly crashed open and Billy virtually threw himself into his arms, knocking him flat on his back. "CHRIS," the boy hollered, one big smile. "Is it true? Is it really?"

Chris sat up again, lifting Billy onto his lap. "What is, Billy?" he asked, still not awake enough to think clearly.

"Are you gonna be my daddy now?" the boy asked, reverence shining in his eyes.

The thought made Chris smirk. "Yeah, Billy, it's true," he agreed. "I figure you don't mind, do you?" he asked and was rewarded by the boy throwing his arms around his neck and hugging him real tight.

"Can I call you daddy now?" Billy wanted to know.

That made Chris want to laugh out loud. This was what he had missed. Waking up to a boisterous kid showing him the affection he so desperately longed for. "You can call me anythin' you wanna," he said and hugged the boy back.

"Good morning."

He inhaled deeply and glanced over at Mary standing in the doorway in her dressing gown, looking every bit the angel with her blonde hair down and her green eyes sparkling. They stared at each other for a moment, then Billy decided to take off again, full of energy. The boy was deliriously happy to have gotten the father he had dreamed off ever since he'd met Chris the first time.

Chris just eyed his bride-to-be for a moment, smiling vaguely. "'Mornin'," he replied. "Looks like Billy's okay with this, huh?" he then asked.

Mary glanced after her son, then settled down on the edge of the bed. "He's more than okay with it. He's been bugging me about this ever since we met," she told him. "Did you sleep well?" she then wanted to know.

"Never better," he replied, then shook his head lightly. "I can't believe how fast this went," he added and chuckled under his breath. "Until yesterday we hardly spoke two words per day."

"Well, that's how it goes sometimes," she said with a light shrug. "You hungry?" she then asked.

The front door downstairs slammed shut and they could hear Billy hollering at someone outside. Chris moved closer to her, a smile on his lips. Regarding her thoughtfully for a moment, he then reached out to push her hair off her shoulder. "Yeah," he said, grinned mischievously at her and pulled her into his arms. "Am I ever."

+ + + + + + +

Buck nearly got run over by Billy, who came racing along the boardwalk, all excited. "Ho-wow," he exclaimed, grabbing the kid and hoisting him into the air. "Where's the fire?"

Billy wiggled in his grip, a full-blown grin on his flushed face. "I'm gettin' a new daddy," he told Buck excitedly.

Buck stared at him with a bemused little smile on his lips. "Really?" he asked and the boy nodded eagerly. "And who might that be?"

Billy stopped wiggling and stared at Buck as if he was insane. "Chris, of course," he said, sounding a little miffed.

That piece of news came as quite a surprise to Buck and he set the boy back down. Before he could ask another question, Billy took off at a full run, waving his hat about, jumping up and down stairs. "Well, I'll be..." Buck began, but ran out of words instantly. Confused, he scratched his neck.

"What's wrong, Buck?" J.D. turned up beside him. "You look like your horse just died," he added with a quirky smile. "Or maybe you got turned down by a lady?" he added.

"I ain't never been turned down by a lady in my life, kid," Buck blustered, then shook his head and gazed along the street. "I just got a bit o' news I can't make no sense of."

J.D. tried to follow his line of sight, but couldn't see anything interesting at the other end of the street. "And what might that be?" he then asked.

Buck pulled his hat off and sighed. "Billy Travis seems to be under the impression that he's gettin' a new daddy," he said and turned his attention to J.D. "He claims it's Chris."

J.D. gave Buck a strange look. "Well, that can't be, now can it? Ain't Chris and Ms. Landon gonna..." he began, but Buck shook his head.

"I don't know, J.D. Billy sounded awful serious about it," he replied. "I'll be damned if I know what's goin' on here."

J.D. stared ahead of himself for a moment, then shook his head. "Well, if it's that big a problem, Buck, why don't you just ask Chris?" he wanted to know.

"You don't go around askin' people that sort o' thing," Buck replied. "Lemme tell you somethin', boy," he went on, raising a finger to make a point. But that was as far as he got when something caught his attention, making him gape in pure surprise.

J.D. looked in that direction too, and couldn't help grinning. What Buck had seen was Chris leaving the Clarion. Considering that none of them had seen him come back to the hotel the night before, J.D. figured that could mean only one thing. "Looks like Billy was right, huh?" he asked and slapped Buck on the shoulder before going over to the saloon for some breakfast.

+ + + + + + +

Chris saw Buck coming a mile away, fully aware that he had probably heard the news from Billy and that he was going to make a point of whatever was on his mind. He hadn't known Buck this long without learning to read his facial expressions, and Buck's face was very expressive.

"Chris, what the hell is goin' on here?" the big cowboy demanded as he came to a stop in front of the gunslinger.

Chris raised an eyebrow, not in the mood to get angry with Buck for butting into his business. "What are you talkin' about?" he asked back.

"What I mean is you comin' outta the Clarion this early in the day, and Billy skippin' all over town, tellin' people you and Mary are gettin' married," Buck burst out, unable to heed his own advice. "What's up with that?"

Making a face, Chris attempted to keep the charade going a little longer. "What have I told you about buttin' into my business, Buck?" he asked, his voice cold as steel.

"So it ain't true, then?" Buck asked, not wanting to back down before he had a clear picture of what was going on.

"That's none o' your business," Chris replied and looked out at the street. He found it increasingly difficult to keep a smile at bay. Buck got very upset when he didn't know what was going on, and it had always been a source of amusement for Chris. One he couldn't stop himself from taking advantage of at this instance.

"Like hell it is," Buck blustered, straightening his back. "What about Jessie, huh? You just gonna drop her like an old rag?"

That was it for Chris. He just couldn't stop chuckling at the righteous anger his friend was displaying when he really should be the last one to talk.

"Oh... you think that's funny?" Buck boomed.

"Yeah, I think that's funny," Chris agreed, grinning. "'Specially since there ain't never been nothin' between me an' Jessie," he added.

That comment completely deflated Buck's anger. "What?" he asked, looking utterly confused. "But, I thought..." he began, then broke off with a frown.

"That's just the problem, ain't it, Bucklin? When you start thinkin', things go wrong," Chris replied. "It's a simple misunderstandin'. On everybody else's part. There ain't never been anythin' goin' on between me an' Jessie that would 'ave implied anythin' like it. We talk an' that's it."

The fact of what Chris was saying was slowly sinking in and Buck looked both surprised and more than a little chastised. "Oh," he finally managed, then made a thoughtful face. "I mean, well, that's great, ain't it?" he then asked.

"Well, I think so," Chris agreed, still smiling.

Buck's attitude changed radically and he slapped Chris' shoulder in a friendly manner. "Well, that's just great, stud," he exclaimed. "I really didn't think I'd ever see you married again, pard. This is cause for celebration. I'm buyin'."

Chris glanced up at the sky, then toward the livery. "Maybe later, Buck. I gotta find Vin. Seen 'im around?"

"Nope, not since he took of yesterday," Buck replied. "Don't worry about 'im, Chris. He'll be back," he added.

"Maybe so, but that don't mean I gotta let this fester until he does," Chris replied. "I'll just ride out an' see if I can't find 'im."

"No need," Buck said, his eyes on something past Chris. "There he is," he added, pointing.

Chris turned around to see Vin riding into town. He stared at him for a moment, trying to determine what would happen next. The way Vin was sitting on Peso made him slightly cautious, though. The animal was trotting down the street toward the livery all on his own. Vin wasn't even holding onto the reins, which were wrapped around the saddle horn. He had his hands on the saddle horn in front of him and his head down and he was either very relaxed or asleep.

Chris stepped out in the street, watching him approach, but Vin showed no sign of wanting to raise his head. "Hey, Tanner," he called out.

+ + + + + + +

Peso threw his head and whinnied as Vin raised his head and looked at Chris. Truth be told, he still wasn't too certain about this whole thing. No matter how much he wanted to believe Jessie, he wanted to hear Chris say it too, and the somewhat tense look on the gunslinger's face made him instantly cautious. He grabbed the reins, stopping Peso in his tracks. "Chris," he said as ways of greeting the gunslinger.

"You alright?" Chris asked, giving him the once over. It had appeared to him that Vin was just very relaxed at first, but now the younger man had tensed up and it made Chris wonder what he'd been up to.

Vin glanced over at Buck, then back down at Chris. "Fine," he said. "What's up?"

"That's what I would like to know," Chris replied. "Are you gonna talk to me today?" he then wanted to know.

"'Bout what?" Vin asked back, apprehensive all of a sudden. He knew what Chris wanted to talk about and he wasn't so sure he wanted to hear what the gunslinger had to say. On top of everything else, he had a bad conscience now.

Chris almost sighed. He didn't want this kind of argument on a day like this, but he wanted to set things straight with the tracker once and for all. "About yesterday, Vin. What the hell is goin' on here? What's your problem?"

Vin looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I ain't got no problem, Chris. Nothin's goin' on. There ain't nothin' to talk about," he replied, feeling more and more certain that Jessie hadn't been entirely truthful with him. He just couldn't figure out why she would do such a thing.

"That's where you're wrong," Chris replied. "Stop avoidin' me, Vin. Right now. I wanna know what's buggin' you."

Vin glanced around at the curious bystanders and sighed. "I ain't talkin' about it out here," he said and nudged Peso forward toward the livery.

Chris made a face and followed him. Once inside the livery, he closed the doors and turned to face Vin, who was in the process of pulling the saddle off Peso. "So, talk," he demanded, staring hard at the younger man. "What's up?"

"Jessie," Vin replied, not looking at Chris. "That's what's up. I ain't gonna lie to you, Chris. I like her a lot. I reckon that ain't gonna make no difference to you, but that's how it is."

Chris continued to stare at him. So Mary had been right about Vin, about his affections for Jessie. Being in that particular mood that made him tease Buck, he couldn't resist the temptation of getting a rise out of the tracker too. It was just too easy. "Ain't you cuttin' a little close to the core here?" he asked, his expression growing tense again. It was hard work to keep up the charade, but he just wanted to see what Vin would do when he told him the truth. "I mean, you and a woman like Jessie?" he went on. "Besides, I reckon she's not interested in you, seein' as I'm gonna get married an' all."

Vin froze to the spot, feeling his heart drop. He desperately wanted to undo those words, wanted them to be not true, but Chris had said it himself. And what did that make him, then? He started brushing Peso almost aggressively, causing the gelding to turn his head and nip at him. "Married, huh?" he asked, pulling out of Peso's reach, not really wanting to hear it. "Well, congratulations, cowboy."

Chris eyed him, wondering how long it would take Vin to ask the right question. "You don't sound particularly happy for me," he said. "Where were you, by the way? I figure you ain't been ridin' around in the rain all night," he added, the temptation to rub it in just too great. He had no idea where Vin had been, but he just had to make a little fun of the situation.

Again Vin paused in his actions. This whole mess was getting out of hand and he figured he might as well just tell Chris the truth and be done with it. "I was with Jessie," he finally said and continued brushing Peso, not daring to look over at Chris. He was certain that the gunslinger would be about ready to shoot him by now.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "You were what?" he asked while fighting the need to grin broadly. He had obviously been mistaken about Jessie and her affections. "An' what, if I may ask, were you doin' out there... all night?" he asked, steel in his voice.

Vin swallowed visibly and suddenly decided that Peso's neck needed more attention. That naturally gave him a greater distance to Chris, as well. "I might as well tell you right away," he said and chanced a glance at Chris. It puzzled him that the steel he had heard in Chris' voice didn't show in his eyes. Chris actually looked like he thought the whole thing was kind of funny. Turning, he faced him, a frown on his brow. "I spent the night with her, if you gotta know," he added.

Chris stared at him, struggling with his need to grin. He looked rather tense due to it. "You what?" he finally managed to ask, his voice stifled.

"You think this is funny?" Vin asked, stunned by that realization.

That did it for Chris. He just couldn't stop himself from laughing at the expression on Vin's face. "Yeah, I think that's funny," he laughed. "Vin, I am gettin' married. To Mary Travis," he added.

"You're what?" Vin asked back, too stunned to fully understand the implications of what Chris had just said. "But... but, I thought... you an' Jessie..." he tried, but couldn't really find the words he needed to express himself correctly.

"That seems to be a general assumption in town. Where that comes from I don't know, Vin, but I ain't got nothin' goin' on with Jessie. I like her, but she ain't the woman I love."

Vin just stared for a moment, then shook his head. "You think it's funny, makin' me think Jessie'd go behind your back?" he then suddenly asked, sounding a little miffed. "I's actually doubtin' her, Chris. Aw hell." He pulled his hat off somewhat aggressively. "That ain't funny, you know?"

That stilled Chris' need to laugh. He realized he had probably overdone it and knew it demanded an apology. "Right. It ain't. I just couldn't help myself. It was just too easy," he finally said. "I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean nothin' by it."

Vin stared at him for a bit longer, then shook his head. "I told her we couldn't see each other no more. Because o' this," he said, sounding depressed. "Damnit, Chris. What if she's angry with me? I ain't never gonna meet a woman like her again."

"I'll talk to her, Vin. Don't worry. It'll be alright," Chris told him, trying to appease him. "Jessie ain't stupid, you know. She'll see the sense in it. She'll understand." Taking a step closer, Chris tried a tentative smile. "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."

"I oughta go back there and try an' set things right. I don't wanna lose 'er," Vin said, looking utterly depressed.

"You ain't gonna lose 'er, Vin. But ridin' out there right now might not be such a good idea. I'll handle 'er when she comes in. Nathan said yesterday she's comin' today, so..." Draping an arm around his friend's shoulders, Chris urged him to come along. "Let's go have a drink an' I'll set things straight with 'er when she turns up, alright?"

Vin didn't much trust this whole thing right now, but nodded nonetheless. "Alright," he agreed a little reluctantly.

"I promise, no more jokes at your expense, Vin. I had no idea it'd go that wrong," Chris said.

"Well, that oughta teach you a lesson," Vin replied a little surly and walked ahead out of the livery and over toward the saloon.

Chris made a face and followed him. Vin was probably right. Just because he himself was feeling so good that he felt like teasing others didn't mean he should do it.

+ + + + + + +

Jessie arrived in town about an hour later. Instead of pulling up in front of the clinic, though, she guided Chico down to the livery to give him some rest from the once again relentless sunshine. When she came back outside, she spotted Chris on the boardwalk in front of the saloon, and she figured she might as well just approach him about this misunderstanding.

Chris looked up at her when she came to a stop before him and actually flinched visibly at the angry look in her eyes. "Jessie. I was hopin' you'd turn up soon. I gotta talk to you," he said.

"Yeah, an' I gotta talk to you about somethin' of a stupid misunderstandin'," she replied, propping her hands on her hips. "Where's Vin? I reckon he came back to town?"

Chris nodded and rose. He somehow felt more at ease when she wasn't towering over him. As he had said once, there were a few women in the world he was scared of running into and Jessie would be one of them if she was ever angry at him. She had a temper that could easily match his own and he had always respected women like her. "Yeah, he did," he said. "That's what I wanna talk to you about. And I reckon it's all my fault."

"It ain't nobody's fault but all them nosy townspeople, who keep stickin' their noses where they don't belong," Jessie told him angrily. "I ain't one to worry about my reputation, Chris. I ain't got one to worry about. But this is ridiculous. I reckon you know what I'm talkin' about?"

"Yeah, I do," he agreed. "Look, as you said, it's a misunderstandin' and that's all it is. Vin knows that now, so there ain't no reason the two of you can't pick up where you left off, alright?"

Jessie's eyes darkened a bit more. "He don't trust me. What kinda foundation is that for a relationship, Chris?" she asked, swirled around and walked away.

With a hiss, Chris followed her. He had promised Vin he would set this straight and he would do his damndest to keep that promise. "Jessie, hold on a goddamn minute," he said, grabbing her arm and stopping her in her tracks. "There's somethin' you gotta understand about Vin. He ain't been too lucky with women in the past and that tends to make a man a might suspicious. An' you can't blame him, neither. So, why don't you just give the kid a break and forget about this? You ain't one to hold a grudge, Jess. I know you that well."

Jessie stared at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then pulled her arm out of his grip. "Where is he?" she wanted to know.

"Saloon," Chris replied, jabbing a thumb over one shoulder.

She was still angry as she stalked back to the saloon and pushed the batwing doors open. One glance around showed her that nearly all of Vin's friends were there and one thing she knew for sure was that he didn't need to be embarrassed in front of them. So, when she caught sight of him, she walked straight over to the table and gave him an odd look. "Can I talk to you outside?" she asked.

Vin glanced somewhat uncertainly from Buck to J.D. and then back up at her and nodded. "Sure," he said, rose and followed her outside.

Buck would have loved it if their little lover's strife would have happened within hearing distance, but Jessie wasn't one to embarrass others and hence grabbed a hold of Vin's hand and nearly dragged him across the road to the livery. Once inside, she closed the door and turned to face him. "We gotta talk about this," she said sternly.

Vin didn't know what to say or where to look. He had been behaving like a fool. Knowing it didn't make any difference, though. He still felt utterly out of place and completely out of his league. "Jessie, I had no idea. I's just... bein' a fool," he tried to explain, not sure he was saying the right thing. "As usual," he added bitterly. "I ain't good around people. I told you that already."

Jessie stared at him, all her anger seeping out of her at the mere look in his eyes. He sure hadn't lived a happy life up until now. Well, that was going to change, she decided, stepped up to him and kissed him. "Yeah, you've been a fool. 'Specially about thinkin' I'd give you up after last night," she said and smiled. "I ain't gonna let somethin' like this get between us when it's only a stupid misunderstandin'. But I do expect you to trust me in future, alright?"

"You forgive me?" he asked hesitantly.

That made her smile widen, as she reached up to brush his hat off his head. "Always," she promised. "There ain't nothing you can do that'll change my mind about you, tracker."

Four Corners

Two weeks later

The wedding of Chris and Mary was a small, quiet affair, conducted by Josiah who took great pride in joining his two friends together. The party afterwards included the whole town, though, and everybody was having a good time. A few of the good townspeople did think it was rather sudden and that Chris and Mary hadn't waited long enough to get married, but that didn't stop them from having fun too.

Vin and Jessie disappeared pretty early, and Chris couldn't help thinking it was a great outcome. Although Vin kept insisting that he wouldn't get tied down and, most importantly, wouldn't subject Jessie to the threat he had hanging over his head all the time, it hadn't stopped him from virtually moving in with her. The wagon he had used for all his belongings up until two weeks ago, was empty now, just sitting in the alley.

Buck was once again trying to woo Inez, who continuously thwarted his attempts with whatever seemed to work at the time. It was obvious to all involved that she was getting a little tired of keeping him at arm's length all the time. None of the others thought she would give in to him just to get her peace, though.

"That was a beautiful ceremony, Josiah," J.D. exclaimed and dropped down on a chair next to the preacher. Casey had been trying to teach him a certain dance that Josiah didn't recognize, and hence the young man was flushed and a little out of breath.

"Thank you, J.D. I found it rather rewarding myself," Josiah agreed with a smile and glanced over at the happy couple. Despite the fact that she hadn't worn a white dress, but rather a cream-colored one, Josiah couldn't remember ever seeing a more beautiful bride. And he could most certainly say that he had never seen Chris Larabee happier than he was on this day. The man was smiling and laughing, having the time of his life, and Josiah couldn't help feeling a tinge of envy. With a light shake of the head, he sighed and took a sip of his drink.

Ezra was having some kind of argument with a woman Josiah didn't recognize. Whatever that was about, it looked like the gambler was losing the battle. It always amused the ex-preacher to see how Ezra tried to handle women and never really got away with it. He didn't think Ezra was any less attracted to the opposite sex than Buck was, but he was more interested in gambling. Besides, Josiah had the sneaking suspicion that Ezra was scared to death of getting involved with a woman only to find out that she resembled his mother. Despite all the man's bravado and fancy talking, he was rather insecure about his own worth and therefore always seemed to put everything in money terms. He was amazing at gambling, able to cheat the socks of others without even batting an eyelash, but when it came to general interaction, he lost ground quickly. Despite Josiah's own preoccupation with Maude whenever she was in town, he knew she hadn't been a perfect mother. As a matter of fact, he doubted she had been much of a mother at all. The way she treated her son whenever she turned up showed that only too clearly. It seemed to be her goal in life to embarrass him, which of course accounted for a lot of his insecurity.

Nathan was there, too, and so was Rain. Josiah wondered how long it would take for the two of them to find that common path, and he was almost willing to bet money on that it would happen sometime soon.

Josiah's observation of the others was interrupted when Casey, for once in a dress, basically pulled J.D. out of his chair and back into the frenzy of dancing people. He shook his head again and briefly wished that he could be that young and naive again.

After a moment, Buck dropped down on the chair J.D. had abandoned, a look of defeat on his face. "Well, ain't this just a happy occasion?" he asked.

Josiah arched an eyebrow and glanced at him. "Can I conclude from this that you're not having fun, brother?" he asked back.

"Not even close," Buck replied and shook his head.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Josiah was always willing to help out, and he knew why Buck was about to despair. The man was just not used to being turned down. "Might it have something to do with our lovely saloon-owner?"

"Right on the button, Josiah. I just don't get it. I mean, what am I doin' wrong? Why don't she like me?" the big cowboy lamented, slowly losing faith in his abilities to woo the fairer sex.

Josiah looked over at Inez, who was chatting lightly with Chris before being dragged onto the dance floor by someone. "I don't believe it has anything to do with that, my friend," he finally said and glanced at Buck. "I think it's as simple as a question of compatibility. You're probably not her type," he suggested.

Buck snorted. "I'm everybody's type, Josiah. There ain't never been no woman who could say no to me. Why can she?"

Josiah chuckled under his breath. Buck sure didn't take defeat too well. "Because she is a beautiful, headstrong woman who knows what she wants out of life. And you're probably not part of her plans. Be careful not to push her too much, Buck. Try leaving her alone for a while. Maybe she'll turn around," he suggested, not sure it would work.

"You reckon?" Buck asked, then nodded to himself. "Right you are. I been comin' on too strong. Thanks, pard," he added, pushed himself out of the chair again and headed straight back for Inez.

Josiah sighed and shook his head. The man would never learn. As he watched, Buck suddenly veered off course and headed straight for the newlyweds, bowing and asking Mary to dance. She accepted, leaving Chris behind. Instead of staying in one place, the gunslinger came over to sit by Josiah.

"So, preacher," he said, unable to keep the contentment out of his voice. "Who would 'ave thought, huh?" he asked.

"Who would have indeed," Josiah agreed. "You do make a nice couple, though," he added and winked at Chris.

"Thanks," he replied, watching while Buck swirled her around and she laughed out loud when she nearly lost her balance in the process. "She's sight for sore eyes, ain't she?" he added.

"That she is," Josiah said. "Beautiful as they come. And smart, too. You're not going to try and subdue that, are you?"

Chris gave him a somewhat stunned look, then grinned at the twinkle in Josiah's eyes. "No way. That's what I like about her. She's independent an' she can handle a riffle better 'n any woman I ever met."

That made the ex-preacher nod with satisfaction. He'd had his own dreams about Mary Travis and would never stand for it if she was mistreated in any way. He knew, though, that Chris felt the same way about her and would protected her with his life if he had to.

Josiah decided to go talk to some of the others, relinquishing his chair to Judge Travis, who settled down on it with a sigh. He glanced at Chris and raised his glass briefly, giving the gunslinger a nod. "I want to have a word with you, Chris," he said.

Chris sat up a little straighter, uncertain of what came next. The man wasn't Mary's father, but he was damned close. "Sure," he said.

The judge eyed the commotion around them for a moment, considering his words carefully. He hadn't been asked to give his blessing and he knew he had no right to interfere anyway, but he did feel he had a certain amount of responsibility since Mary had been his daughter-in-law and Billy was his grandson. "I just want your word that you will do right by both of them, Chris," he finally said. He didn't want it to come across as a demand and he sure didn't want to sound like a father, either, but he was concerned about Mary and Billy's fate. "The boy is my grandson, after all. The only living proof of my son. And Mary is a fine woman, the best thing that ever happened to my Steven. I just want you to promise me that you're not going to leave them behind."

Chris stared into space for a moment, thinking about the judge's words. He understood the man, understood the concern. "I give you my word. I won't let nothin' happen to them," he then promised. A promise like that should have come easy, but to Chris, those words were spoken with serenity. He would do his damndest to keep them safe, to keep them from harm. And he would kill anybody trying to get in his way.

Judge Travis nodded. Even though the words were nothing much to go by, the tone of the younger man's voice was. He glanced at Chris and gave him a small smile. "Good. That's all I wanted to hear. They mean an awful lot to me. I just want to make sure they mean that to you too."

That made Chris smile weakly. "Billy could be my son," he said and looked over to meet the judge's eyes. "I love 'em both. I'd rather die than let anythin' happen to 'em."

Travis' smile widened. "Well, I wouldn't want you to go that far, seeing as Mary doesn't need to bury another husband," he said. "Just take care of them and treat them right. That's all I ask."

"I will," Chris promised, his own smile wider.

+ + + + + + +

Jessie pulled a piece of straw out of her hair and wrinkled her nose. "Hay's pretty dusty, ain't it?" she asked and pulled the bodice of her dress together, joining the hooks.

"Sure is," Vin agreed and sat up too, pulling his shirt back on. Pausing, he gazed at her adoringly, then smiled and planted a kiss on her shoulder. "You wanna go back to the party?" he asked, nodding toward the doors of the livery and the party still going on further down the street.

She finished with the hooks and turned to face him, gently laying a hand against his cheek. "Do you?" she asked back.

For a moment, Vin just looked into her eyes, still not fully believing that this woman, this wonderful, beautiful, lively being, was his and his alone. Well, in theory, she wasn't. But for all appearances she was, and he relished the thought, the feeling. If it hadn't been for that damned bounty on his head, that charge against him, he would have married her two weeks ago. But, as it were, he didn't want to pull her any further into his uneasy existence. "We might as well, eh?" he asked her, responding to her question. What he wouldn't give to be able to forget his rootless past and find a save haven in her arms. It wasn't really fair to her that he allowed her to think that this could go on forever. But, right now, he was just enjoying this too much, and didn't want it to end. But he knew the time was coming when he would have to move on. If only to not endanger her.

"What's on your mind?" she asked, noting his preoccupation and the slight sadness she had seen in his eyes.

"Nothin'. Let's go back to the others," he replied and climbed down the ladder from the hayloft. Stopping at the foot of the ladder, he waited for her to climb down, helping her to the floor. Not that she needed any help, but he loved wrapping his hands around her slim waist. She turned in his arms and kissed him before he had a chance to make any move.

"Nothin' my foot," she told him, smiling sweetly at him. "Come on, lover. Let's go have fun." With that she took his hand and nearly dragged him along with her, not caring if they looked ruffled and so gave away where they had been. It wasn't like everybody in town hadn't guessed what was going on between them, anyway.

+ + + + + + +

Chris saw Vin and Jessie rejoining the party and couldn't help smiling. This had, indeed, been a good day. Mary had danced with just about every male on the scene and was tired enough to nearly drop when she sank down on his lap. He wrapped his arms protectively around her, pulling her close to him. Life just didn't get better than this. All the things he had longed for over the past four years had been restored to him, alas in a slightly different package this time around.

Mary grabbed a glass handed to her by someone and turned to face her husband, a smile on her lips. "I would like to make a toast," she said quietly to him.

Chris looked into her eyes and saw something serious there, something heartfelt. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect, so he merely nodded. "Alright," he agreed.

"To Sarah and Adam. May they be at peace wherever they are," she said, holding her glass up a little, the gleam of tears in her eyes. "And I swear to both of them that I will do all I can to make you happy."

He blinked a few times and swallowed to clear the lump rising in his throat. Had this come from anyone but her, he might have gotten angry or depressed, but she meant every word and honored his previous family with her words. "You already are," he told her and kissed her tenderly. "You an' Billy."

"We both love you," she said and smiled, and then she glanced up at the sky. "The moon is high in the sky," she added and looked back down to meet his eyes. "And I am tired. It has been a long day and reality returns tomorrow. Maybe we should turn in?"

With an affirming nod, he brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "Reality returns tomorrow, eh?" he asked. "No honeymoon, then?"

That made her smirk. "The paper doesn't print itself, Chris," she told him and smiled at the somewhat surprised expression on his face. "I have asked for a little help, though. We have three days off. So, I suggest that we take ourselves up to your cabin and spend those three days there, all on our own."

That made him frown a little. "What about Billy?" he wanted to know.

"Oh, that's all taken care of. Buck has volunteered to look after him. And so has Josiah. And Nathan. And Ezra, even," she said. "And Vin. And J.D. So, you see, I believe my Billy is going to be in good hands while we're away."

He smiled in reply. "Not to worry you, my dear, but are you certain he'll be just Billy when we get back?"

Mary arched an eyebrow, slightly confused by that comment. "What are you implying?"

"Well, the way I see it, Mary, if we leave him in their capable hands for three days, he's goin' to be part tracker, part preacher, part gambler, part womanizer, part sheriff and part doctor when we get back," he said with a gleam in his eyes.

"And that would be a bad thing?" she asked, then smiled brightly at him, before glancing around in search of her son. She found him where she had actually expected to see him, and that was sitting on a chair next to Ezra, watching with fascination as the gambler showed him a whole array of card tricks. "It's funny, really," she added and slipped an arm around Chris' neck. "When I first met Ezra, I would never have entrusted him with my son. Now, however, I think Billy is in good hands, don't you?"

Chris watched the boy clap his hands in pure delight at something Ezra had just shown him, the boy's eyes full of adoration. Chris slowly shook his head. "I've known Ezra for over a year now and I still don't know what to make of 'im. He ain't what he seems, and at the same time he is. How does that make sense?"

Mary watched, too, a small smile playing on her lips. "Do you trust him?" she wanted to know, giving Chris a quick glance.

"With money, no. With just about anything else, yes. I ain't sure he'd be able to resist the tug o' wealth, but he does seem to have a good heart hidden away somewhere. He ain't usin' it too much, but it's there."

That made his bride nod. "Just what I'm thinking," she agreed. "And he does have a remarkable grip on children. So, I think we have nothing to worry about," she added. "Vin and Jessie are taking him with them to Jessie's place tonight. Vin promised him they'd go hunting together early in the morning."

That again made Chris shake his head with a grin. "I think Vin would make a good father, don't you?" he asked, glancing up at Mary.

"Probably," Mary agreed. "Well, I think it's time for us to leave this party and head on home," she added and rose, pulling him up with her. "Let's say our goodbyes and be off."

The End