I've Got a Name

Part 1

Vin knew if he lived to be 100, he would never forget his face. The pale blue eyes, wide open in shock. Straight nose and square jaw, with just a hint of facial hair. His skin was smudged with grime, but smooth with youth – no time yet for scars or creases. And his mouth – thin lips clenched tight with angry determination, blood just beginning to trickle down his chin. It was the face of a boy – the boy he had killed.

"Oh God, there just ain’t enough whiskey to make this better," Vin thought. He’d returned from Eagle Bend earlier in the day and he hadn’t managed to move from the saloon yet. He really wasn’t drinking much – couldn’t seem to get his mind and body to coordinate properly. In fact, he felt like he was caught in a nightmare, where life whirled on around him but he was stuck - stuck in a dark alley as he turned over the body of the person he had shot and found the face of a boy. He had replayed the horrible events over and over, trying to find some way around what had happened. Some way that he could have reacted differently, some kind of absolution.

+ + + + + + +

Vin had gone to Eagle Bend a few days earlier to help track a cougar that was causing problems for the area ranchers. Truth be told, he was happy to get away for awhile. It proved to be just the diversion he needed; the thrill of the hunt in the wild country he loved. The hunt had been successful with no one hurt in the process. A man just couldn’t ask for more. He’d headed back into town feeling light-hearted and hungry. While dining on steak and potatoes at the local restaurant, he noticed an elderly couple at the table next to him, celebrating some kind of milestone. He couldn’t help but overhear the waitress congratulate them on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Vin smiled – he could hardly reckon living that long, let alone being attached to someone for a half century. Still, it was nice, and when he heard the old woman giggle like a teenager, he felt warm inside.

Afterwards, he stepped out and caught a glimpse of the sun setting on the western side of town. Watching the sun go down was second only to watching it come up, and Vin felt blessed. A perfect ending to a nearly perfect day. He decided to ride a few miles out of town and set up camp, then head for home in the morning. Home. Just the word made him grin.

As he headed for the livery, he heard a scuffle and what sounded like a muffled scream coming from behind the livery. He slipped quietly into the shadows and peered into the darkened alleyway. The elderly couple he’d seen in the restaurant were having far from a perfect ending to their day. Vin could see the old man lying on the ground, grunting as a figure pummeled him repeatedly. The attacker was small in stature, but obviously quite strong. He reached up to the sobbing woman, slapped her face, and roughly pushed her against the wall, screaming at her to "shut the hell up!"

Enraged by what he witnessed, Vin stepped into the road, pulled his mare’s leg, and in his usual efficient manner, simply growled, "Stop. Now." The figure stood, and hesitating only a moment, pulled his own weapon and fired. The tracker felt the breeze from the bullet as it passed by his right ear. His opponent’s aim was high and wide - his was not. Ordinarily, he may have shot to wound, but dusk had come and gone quickly, and the woman stood too close. Three lives were at stake, so he took the safest, surest shot.

The sounds of gunfire still echoed in his ears as he rushed to check on the older couple. To his relief, their injuries appeared to be minor. The old man, worrying for his wife, kept repeating, "Are you alright, Dear? Did he hurt you?", while she wept quietly and leaned unsteadily against him. Townspeople had begun to arrive and in the eerie light of their lanterns, Vin leaned down to turn over the body of his victim and saw - his face. He figured the kid couldn’t have been more than thirteen, fourteen at best, and he was sure he would lose his dinner right there. Voices swirled around him.

"Serves him right. No good trouble-maker."

"Just a matter of time . . . damn kid never could stay out of trouble."

"Where’s the other one? That brother of his can’t be far behind".

Strong arms grabbed a hold of Vin, and he thought he heard the old lady say, "He saved our lives, Sheriff." He vaguely remembered being rushed to the Sheriff’s office and gently but firmly pushed into a chair.

The officer had looked at the young man sympathetically and asked him to relay what had happened. Vin thought he had spoken. Looking back on it, he really couldn’t recall a single word he’d said. He only knew the Sheriff had released him with no charges, saying something about the boy and his twin brother being "drifters" who were causing more frequent and more serious problems for the town. Vin did clearly remember asking one question, however. "What’s his name?"

"His name? I don’t know as I’ve heard anyone call him a name. Maybe John or Jake or something like that. Don’t know the other’s one name, either, now that I think on it. Guess it don’t matter much."

Of course, it did matter. Only a man who had lived as a nameless kid himself would know just exactly how much it mattered. He’d gotten up to leave then, one thought plaguing him, "A kid. I killed a kid. Oh God." He’d killed more men than he cared to think of, but never a kid.

+ + + + + + +

He didn’t remember the ride back to town. He’d gotten on his horse and just kept going until he ended up where he was now – in the Standish Tavern. Without warning, the image of himself as an adolescent came to mind. He’d gotten tired of being passed from place to place after his ma died. No one treated him right, or really wanted him, so he’d struck off on his own. Even as a youth, he was strong willed and determined, but he clearly recalled a time when he was so lost, lonely, and desperate that only pride in his name kept him from choosing the wrong path. Was he so different than the boy he had killed?

He knew he could and should talk to one of the boys. Ezra, Buck and JD were there. They’d looked up when he came in, and by the look on their faces, the look on his face must have said more than he realized. He knew they were concerned for him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to talk about it right then.

"You okay, Vin?"

"Something happen in Eagle Bend, Vin?"

"Mr. Tanner, you look decidedly unwell."

Vin hoped he mumbled something reasonably coherent in response. They were good men – good friends – and they would listen if he asked them to. He could even hear their reactions in his head. Kind-hearted Buck would offer a warm hand on his shoulder and a sympathetic comment. Ezra would remind him of the practicality of self-preservation. JD would understand best of all, considering what he’d been through when he’d shot Annie. If Nathan and Josiah were around, Josiah would undoubtedly talk about God and fate and what it all means, while Nathan, ever the healer, would try to ease the burden of guilt Vin carried.

But there was really only one man he wanted to sort this out with – Chris Larabee. The gunman understood him better than anyone he had ever known, but it was more than that. Larabee had lost his own son. If Chris could still look him in the eye after hearing what had happened, then maybe he could learn to live with it. He needed to talk to Chris. If he could just manage to get up off the chair, he’d head out to his friend’s cabin.

Vin took off his hat, ran his hands through his long, wavy hair, and willed himself to stand up. That done, he turned to make his way out and found himself standing face to face with - that face. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut, the air leaving him so quickly and forcefully that he couldn’t believe he was still standing. The kid stood maybe 10 feet in front of him - his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. Seeing that face, living and breathing, stunned the tracker so that he couldn’t quite think what to do. With sudden shock, Vin remembered about the twin brother. How could he have forgotten? He’d been so wrapped up with his own feelings, he’d forgotten that two boys had been affected by his actions.

It was apparent to the other men now that something most definitely had happened in Eagle Bend. A fresh-faced kid who, JD noted, looked an awful lot like a younger version of Vin, held a gun on their friend and appeared to be planning to use it. Buck and JD stood at once – guns out and ready. Ezra stayed back, watching and wondering how this would all play out. The kid was barely a teen, if that, and shaking like a leaf. If he’d had to place a wager, he’d bet the kid couldn’t do it. And he knew a bluff when he saw one. He’d wait this one out. The boy noted the other men’s actions, but kept his aim true.

Having recovered somewhat, Vin took a step towards him, and in a thick voice stammered, "Kid . . . I’m . . ." He was what? Sorry? What difference could that make to someone who had lost the only person they had? Maybe the only person they’d ever had. He knew what it was like to be alone, to be hungry, to be desperate. Just what the hell could he say to this kid that would make any difference?

Looking into his eyes, Vin knew the boy would shoot. He knew this kid had fallen to a place far beyond reason, where he no longer cared what happened to him – where being dead was better. As the bullet slammed into him, his last conscious thought was how fitting that the final vision he would have on this earth was of… that face.

+ + + + + + +

Time really did stand still, or so it seemed to JD. He simply could not believe what he was seeing. Vin was thrown back so forcefully that he knocked the chair over behind him, and it skittered across the floor. Blood poured instantly from a hole in the tracker’s stomach. "Oh God! Where’s Nathan?" He felt like he screamed it, but in reality, his voice was little more than a harsh whisper that echoed in the stunned silence of the room. When no answer was forthcoming, he took off through the bat-wing doors, intent on getting help for his friend, and trusting the others to deal with the shooter.

Ezra heard the sound of the bullet as it barreled through Tanner and into the bar behind him, splintering the wood and imbedding itself there. He immediately went to the injured man where he lay flat out, unmoving, on the wooden floor. He cradled Vin’s head on his lap – seemed like the right thing to do – and tried to think of something comforting to say although, for once, words escaped him. Right now, he’d give the entire wad of bills residing in his boot to turn back the clock just a few minutes – to have done something, anything different. Such a terrible bet to lose!

Buck, in the meantime, resisted the urge to pull his own trigger when he saw the boy drop his gun to the floor and fall to his knees. Tears streamed down his face, but Buck felt no pity. This boy had more than likely killed Vin, and he would, by God, find out why. He grabbed him up by his dirty, ragged shirt, shaking him and shouting, "Why? Why? Why would you do that?!"

With a quiet sob, the boy answered, "He killed my brother." All eyes went to the boy then, and slowly back to Vin. What the hell was going on? Buck latched onto the boy’s arm and started dragging him off to jail, with a quick look at his bloody friend and a slow, sad shake of his head.

JD just couldn’t make his legs move fast enough. The clinic and Nathan never seemed so far away, and what if he wasn’t there? Fortunately, Nathan was there. Having been up all night delivering a baby, he had just settled down to rest. He heard JD’s panic-stricken voice calling for him, followed by frantic pounding on his door. " Now what?" he thought wearily. He’d heard the gunshot, but no return fire, so he figured – hoped he wasn’t needed. Opening the door, he took one look at the young man’s face, grabbed his bag and took off – without taking time to ask who was hurt this time or how badly.

Nathan entered the saloon with Josiah close on his heels, the whole town having heard by now what had happened. Both men gasped as they saw a very still and very bloody Vin with his head in Ezra’s lap. The healer leaned over the injured man, and without even touching him, turned pained eyes to Josiah and choked, "Get Chris."

Almost subconsciously, the preacher prayed, "Lord, don’t take him from us," and he set off with a heavy heart for Larabee’s cabin, just outside of town.

"Where do I start?" thought Nathan. He knew Vin was probably mortally wounded, bleeding inside in places he couldn’t fix. But he had to try. He could never face Chris Larabee, or any of his friends, if he didn’t at least make an effort. So Nathan Jackson once more set about saving a life he was ill prepared to save. Although he knew more about doctoring than the others, his experience extended only so far, a fact that plagued the sensitive man time and again.

With a heavy heart, he worked to stop the flow of blood, deciding then and there to do any stitching and mending right there on the floor of the saloon. "Stitching and mending – like I’m sewing up a damn coat or quilt," he thought bitterly. Looking up, he met Ezra’s eyes and an unspoken message passed between them, "this is bad."

But the gambler was not willing to give up so easily either, and so he offered, "How can I assist you, Nathan?"

"Boil some water . . . need some clean bandages," the dark-skinned man ordered wearily. He added, almost as an afterthought, "let’s move him onto a clean blanket."

Ezra realized then that Nathan intended to perform whatever procedures were necessary to prolong Vin’s life right there in the midst of his place of business. Not that he minded – anything to help their wounded friend would of course be acceptable. But Inez had gone to visit some obscure relative in some obscure village and oh, what a mess there would be. "My God, Ezra!" he chastised himself, "what is wrong with you? Vin is dying and you’re worried about the mess." In truth, the cleanliness of the tavern had nothing at all to do with his anguish, but it was much easier to face then the fact that he may very well lose a friend here today.

Nathan caught a glimpse of JD out of the corner of his eye and noted he looked decidedly green. "Go on to my clinic, JD. Make sure everything is ready for Vin." Jackson had his doubts that the sharpshooter would ever make it that far, but the youngest of the seven needed something to do. The kid looked as relieved as he felt to get away from the god-awful mess that was Vin, but he said nothing. Only swallowed and nodded – questions and pleas in his eyes that he couldn’t express, and a good thing, too, because Nathan didn’t think he could stand to answer him.

As JD burst out the door, Mary hurried in. Immediately her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped. Any thoughts about getting the story of the latest shooting vanished as she saw the pale tracker laid out on the floor. Nathan had carbolic in one hand, and a needle and thread in the other. There was so much blood, that she wondered how he could he even see what he was stitching.

Ezra, in his first true moment of clarity, saw an opportunity to get some questions answered. "Mrs. Travis, apparently Vin met up with some unfortunate circumstances while in Eagle Bend. We have not, as yet, been able to ascertain exactly what those circumstances were. Perhaps you could wire the Sheriff there and inquire as to what may have occurred?"

Mary nodded, and wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she composed herself enough to ask, "Where is Chris?" The tough lawman was always her first thought in times of trouble. He always knew what to do. But she could see that even Chris could not fix this, and she knew he would be devastated if they lost Vin.

"Josiah’s gone for ‘im," Nathan replied. And he’d better hurry, because the ex-slave didn’t think he could stand to tell Larabee that he was too late. Chris should be here when his best friend drew his last breath. Almost as soon as that thought was formed, Nathan reprimanded himself. "Ain’t givin’ up on you, Vin," he thought – or maybe he said it, judging by the way Ezra looked at him and nodded with steely determination.

Mary left quickly for the telegraph office, grateful to have a task to occupy her mind. She didn’t want to think of Vin and his gentle soul . . . ‘I’m not the way they see me.’ Tenacity and stubbornness being her strong suits, she would find the answers, for Vin and especially for Chris.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah rode like the hounds of hell were after him, but he still knew he couldn’t reach Chris before night fell. The trip back would be difficult with just the sliver of a moon, but make that trip they would, and quickly, too, with Vin’s life hanging by a thread as it was. Vin’s life. Two little words that meant so much. It felt to Josiah like all their lives held by that single precarious thread. Over the past year, the seven had become like one. Linked in some miraculous way that only God or some other spirit could provide. And Vin was essential. He just had that way about him of calming and connecting the others. He didn’t even know it – probably figured he’d be least likely to be missed among them.

Josiah would never forget how Tanner came to his defense when he was accused of killing Miss Irene. He could still see and hear him standing in front of those bars, his temper rising as he shouted, "I’ve got every right, cause I’m tryin’ to save your damn hide!". Could see and hear him like it was yesterday – could still feel him, too, so he must not be dead yet. And so Josiah found himself again in that place where he prayed to God with one breath and cursed Him with the other. He so wanted to have faith that He would come through for him – pull off another miracle here for Vin. Of course, if God were truly just, Tanner wouldn’t be in this situation. Not that he was a saint, God knew the man had done his share of wrongs in this life – but there never was a truer heart, Josiah was sure of that. So maybe if God wasn’t exactly a just God, well, just maybe He’d be a merciful one and spare one of the seven, one more time.

He’d almost made his peace with the whole thing, or at least as close as he figured he was ever going to get, when he reached the cabin. It was well and truly dark now, but Josiah saw a glimmer of light through the window, and knew Chris was still up. He approached the area cautiously, calling out as he came within shouting distance so Larabee would know it was a friend. Lord, he’d give anything not to have to impart this news.

Chris stepped out onto the dilapidated porch, gun in hand, just in case. He knew something serious must be going on, for one of them to come for him this time of night. He knew, too, that it involved Vin, otherwise he would be here right now, instead of Josiah. He tried to swallow down his fear. Could be it was nothing too bad. Tanner had gone after that cougar, maybe he’d gotten scratched up a bit.

Josiah climbed down from his mount, acting like his legs were lead weights. Chris was torn between wanting him to get on with whatever he came here to say, and hoping he’d never say it, because it must be bad. Josiah turned to him and, in the most level voice he could manage, said, "Vin’s been shot. We need to ride."

Still not wanting to acknowledge how bad it could be, Chris took a deep breath, and reminded himself how many times one of the seven had been shot - almost a regular occurrence. But Josiah was here, and it was late.

He went straight to his barn to saddle up his horse, a thousand questions burning in his head, and he too afraid to ask any of them. As if reading his mind, Josiah answered a few for him. "It wasn’t a bounty hunter, Chris. It was some kid. No one knows yet exactly why, but apparently something happened in Eagle Bend."

God, his gut was twisting all kinds of ways. As he swung himself into the saddle, he finally looked at Josiah and asked, "And Vin . . . ?"

"Don’t know, Chris. Nathan was just getting to him when I left."

"But?"

"But he looked real bad. I think we should hurry."

+ + + + + + +

Nathan had done all he could at the moment. He’d sewn up the holes he found both inside and out. He found the only silver lining in the fact that the bullet had missed his patient’s spine. Unfortunately, it hadn’t missed his stomach and had cracked a rib in its path. He couldn’t be sure that it hadn’t hit any other vital organs, and he knew that if Vin miraculously survived, it would be a long and difficult road for him. The injured man hadn’t moved or made a sound throughout the ordeal, another small blessing. But with all the internal bleeding that occurred, vomiting was a certainty, and he would need to keep a constant watch to be sure Vin wouldn’t choke when it came.

Buck and JD had come back in just as he’d finished wrapping up the wounds. In an effort to move the tracker to the clinic as efficiently as possible, each man took a corner of the blanket he laid on, carrying him down the street and up the stairs in that manner. Nathan knew how much Vin would have hated being carried through town like. He wished he could have at least given a small measure of dignity to his friend. But no, he’d patched him up on a saloon floor and carried him out in front of everyone he knew. "God, Vin, I’m so sorry," he whispered softly.

They laid him gently on the bed - each holding their own breath until they saw for certain that their friend still breathed. Nathan sat beside the bed, his eyes never leaving his patient, and settled in for what he prayed would be a long night.

The first few hours passed uneventfully, and Ezra caught himself nodding off more than once. The boys had decided they’d take turns sitting with Nathan, at least until Chris arrived, and the gambler had spent his shift doing - nothing. And so when Buck finally entered softly and solemnly to spell him, he met his questioning stare with a shrug. He’d felt totally useless and certainly had no answers or insights to offer. Ezra left the clinic and headed for the jail, maybe he could be of some service there.

He entered the jailhouse, and peered through the shadows created by the only lit lantern. JD appeared to be fast asleep with his head on the desk. Poor kid would have a stiff neck in the morning. He glanced to the cell and saw the outline of the boy, stuffed up tight in the corner on the floor, apparently asleep also. Obviously not needed here, either, and so he headed back for the saloon. He really wanted to be anyplace else, but since he doubted he could sleep, he may as well start cleaning up from the awful events of that day. As he came closer, he noted light and activity coming from the tavern. Opening the doors, he was stunned to see Mrs. Potter, on her hands and knees, stubbornly scrubbing the stains off the floor.

"Uh…Mrs. Potter…" he stammered, "what are you doing? I mean, are you aware of the hour? Please stop. I assure you this is unnecessary . . . I am certainly capable of taking care of this." He must be tired - he was even turning down help with manual labor.

"Mr. Standish," the woman commented, without looking up from her efforts, "you men have done more for us in this town than anyone could ask or hope for. Surely I can ease your burden a bit by cleaning up the reminders of your friend’s injuries."

Ezra felt ludicrously like crying at that. No, not crying - bawling like a babe; flat-out, gut-wrenching sobbing. Instead, he allowed a single tear to fall as he made his way up to his room.

+ + + + + + +

It was during Buck’s tour of duty that Vin finally came around. The dual assaults of pain and nausea pulled him from the comforting darkness against his will. He really thought he was dead, but he hurt so much and felt so sick, that it must not be true. There was a terrible metallic taste in his mouth, and he couldn’t breathe around it. He felt a vague sort of panic then, but even that was fleeting, the nausea fast consuming his total being.

Nathan heard the soft groan from Vin, and noted the slight spastic movements of his hands. "Hand me the bucket, Buck."

Wilmington looked puzzled, but did as he was told. Jackson had gently turned the sick man onto his side, but even he was unprepared for the force of the retching when it came. Copious amounts of blood filled the bucket, splattering the healer and everything else in its path. Chris chose just that moment to make his entrance, horror etched on his face at the scene before him. Nathan realized that Vin had lost consciousness again after the first, undoubtedly painful spasms, although his body continued to expel the bloody contents of his stomach. He thanked God again for that small favor.

The smell was truly sickening, and all three men thought simultaneously that it was a good thing JD wasn’t there. As it was, they felt nauseous themselves, and Buck moved to open the window. He was surprised to see that it was dawn. "Vin made it through the night," he thought. But after what he had just seen . . .

He turned back to see Larabee making his way over to take the vacant seat by the bed. While Nathan began the process of cleaning up himself and the surroundings, Chris took a clean towel and wiped Vin’s face. Buck had expected his oldest friend to enter with all guns blazing. He’d prepared himself for a barrage of curses, questions, and threats. But the blond had yet to utter a single word. The rogue watched as Chris held Vin’s head while Nathan changed the pillowcase; stroking the younger man’s hair momentarily as he tenderly laid him back down. Buck felt almost like an intruder, and so he quietly left to check on JD. There were things that needed to be said, but now was not the time.

+ + + + + + +

It was not the time. Chris would want to know exactly what had happened, but for now, all he could do was sit at his friend’s side. He kept one hand on the tracker’s arm, but still didn’t speak. He and Vin had never needed words, anyway. He avoided Nathan’s eyes, as he had Buck’s. He wasn’t ready to face the despair he knew he would see there. He knew Nathan would do all he could, and he didn’t need to be hounded with questions he couldn’t answer.

Chris never knew why he and Tanner shared such a close bond, and in truth, he didn’t think on it much. He knew Vin didn’t either. It just was. They enjoyed each other’s company and understood each other in a way that few others ever would. It was enough that the two strong men acknowledged it, the how and why of it just didn’t matter.

He looked down at the pale form of his best friend, fighting the anguish that threatened to overwhelm him. He should have gone with Vin to Eagle Bend. He should have stayed in town yesterday. He should have been watching this man’s back – it was an unspoken promise between them. He should never make promises. He should never get this close to anyone.

+ + + + + + +

Buck, like most of the seven, had been up all night and he was bone tired. He reached the jail in time to see JD stretching and rubbing his neck. "I can find a real nice senorita to take care of that for you, JD," he quipped.

The young man looked at him like he’d grown another head and snapped, "What’s wrong with you, Buck? Vin’s dyin’ and you’re making jokes."

Wilmington quickly glanced at the cell and noted that their prisoner was awake, but motionless. He sat on the edge of the desk and peered at his young friend intently before speaking in a soft voice. "JD, I didn’t mean no disrespect to Vin, you know that. But life does go on, and Vin wouldn’t want us mopin’ around and wearing black when he ain’t even dead. Hell, than we’d all look like Chris, and as much as I love the man, I sure don’t want to be him. Don’t want you bein’ him, either."

JD smiled in spite of himself. What would he do without Buck?

"Come on, Kid, lets get us somethin’ t’ eat."

"What about him?" JD questioned, nodding at the boy behind the bars.

"He’ll keep," Buck answered. But it was all he could do not to grab the stupid kid by the ears and beat the shit out of him.

+ + + + + + +

The next time Vin got sick, there was no warning. His eyes flew open in pained surprise as the wretched vomiting began. Chris could do nothing but rub his back, while Nathan held his head, both men wincing at the awful sound and smell and horrendous pain they knew he felt.

Vin knew only that someone was raking a razor though his gut, and please, God, make it stop! He thought he heard voices, but they were so far away and couldn’t help him. No one could help him. What had he done to deserve to die like this?

When finally the spasms stopped, Vin was still wide-eyed, but Chris knew he didn’t see him. His entire body trembled and he seemed unable to catch his breath. Groaning softly, he made a last, aching whimper before slowly closing his eyes. Larabee called to Jackson in a panic, "Nathan!" as if he were across the room rather than across the bed. Nathan put a finger to Vin’s neck, felt the slight flutter of pulse, and nodded to Chris with more reassurance than he actually felt.

After the gunslinger’s heart resumed beating, he found himself thinking, "I can’t do this - I can’t be here and watch this." But he couldn’t leave Vin, either. He was trapped. Trapped because he’d allowed himself to care too much about this town and these people – as he’d once heard Vin say. And because he cared so much about this man, in particular.

Part 2

Josiah came in later with breakfast, but neither Nathan nor Chris could swallow it. The big man did his best, giving the "you can’t take care of Vin if you don’t care of yourselves" speech. Jackson had pretty much gone two nights now without sleep, and Sanchez managed to convince him to rest a bit on the nearby cot. Chris promised to wake him if need be, and there was no doubt he would with Vin’s condition too precarious to take any chances.

Josiah, needing to stay awhile with his sick friend, and needing even more to say a few words to their leader, took Nathan’s vacant chair. He regarded the man in black somberly, then spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Chris, we found out a few things about how all this came about."

The blond looked up with some interest…but still not acting quite right to Josiah’s mind. He wondered, with sudden insight, if the gunman was afraid to hear what he had to say? But he continued, "Vin ran into some trouble in Eagle Bend. He came upon an elderly couple being robbed and he had to shoot to save his life and theirs."

Chris looked at him as if to say, "And…?" But still he said nothing, sensing that the worst was yet to come.

Josiah went on, "No charges were filed. It was clearly self-defense. But . . . the person he shot was just a kid. Vin killed a 13 year-old boy. It was his twin brother who came after him yesterday. Apparently they were drifters – didn’t have any family . . ." he trailed off then, no more to be said.

So there it was. Vin had killed a boy. Chris knew how badly that would sit with him. Hell, it would be hard on any of them, but especially on his best friend. Wouldn’t matter that he’d saved three lives. He’d be turning it over and over in his mind, finding some way to blame himself. And a drifter? He knew enough about Tanner’s past to realize he’d been pretty much on his own at 13. He bet the tracker could identify with these kids in a way few others could. But one kid was dead, and the other would likely hang if Vin died. If Vin died . . . damn! Three lives ruined because one hungry kid did something stupid. He glanced then at Josiah and Nathan, and thought, "No – more than three lives, so many more, so much more." The enormity and senselessness of the tragedy hit Chris head on at that moment, and he let loose a long string of softly spoken curses.

"Well, that’s more like it," thought Josiah.

+ + + + + + +

Buck opened the clinic door a crack and took a peak inside. He saw Nathan lightly sleeping while Chris and Josiah talked in low, quiet tones. He could hardly bear to look at Vin, so still and white. As he entered the room and moved to the bedside, he noted that Chris couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the wounded man. Buck spoke up, "Uh, Chris? Just wanted to let you know that Mary and I wired the judge about . . . about what happened. He’ll be here as soon as he can to figure out what to do with the kid."

"What’s his name?" Chris asked, his gaze still resting on Vin.

"What? Whose name? The kid?" Why the hell did his friend want to know the boy’s name? What possible difference could it make? Vin was dying and what would happen to Chris when he did? To all of them? Disaster was unfolding before their eyes – who gave a shit what the kid’s name was!

Larabee looked up at him then, and Buck could see that he wanted – expected, an answer. "Don’t know, Chris – I didn’t ask. I threw his mangy hide in jail and I don’t care if he rots there."

Vin would want to know. Chris couldn’t explain how he knew that. He just knew Vin would want to know. And if there was any good to be found in the boy, he would want to know that, too.

With a heavy sigh, the blond leaned forward and whispered softly in Vin’s ear, "I’ll be back, Pard. Don’t go nowhere." He rose stiffly and went out the door without looking back, trusting the man he loved like a brother to hold on until he returned.

Buck and Josiah exchanged questioning glances, neither one sure of what was going on in the gunfighter’s mind. Not that that was new, but still….

+ + + + + + +

Chris seemed to have to concentrate awfully hard to just put one foot in front of the other. He knew the boys were surprised by his reaction to the whole situation. He surprised himself. There was no all consuming rage, only overwhelming sorrow. A grief that was magnified when he finally reached the jail and got a look at the youngster that had tried to kill his friend. "My God!" he thought. "Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

The boy sat cross-legged on the floor, his arms hanging loosely in his lap as he stared forlornly at the floor. Even with his head down, Chris could see the uncanny resemblance to Vin. It was unnerving and made him want to put his head in his hands and weep.

Larabee glanced briefly at JD and stated, "Take a break, Kid. I’ll take over for awhile."

"Oh, sure. OK. I’ll just . . . I’ll just check on Vin," JD stammered, still shocked at how calmly and casually Chris had walked in. He hoped it was okay to leave him alone with the prisoner – surely the gunslinger wouldn’t do anything? Nah – probably had more to worry about with Buck, the way he’d been acting.

Chris squatted down on his heels directly in front of the boy and waited for him to raise his head and meet his eyes. To his credit, the kid did just that, and did not turn away from the steely glare.

"What’s your name, boy?"

"My name?" Of all the things he expected to come out of the man in black’s mouth, this was not one. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked him his name. He thought about saying something smart, but he was tired and hungry and scared and he wished they’d just hang him and get it over with. But he had a feeling it would be a good idea to answer him, so he did.

"Luke."

"Just Luke?"

"Yeah, just Luke." Never did have another name that he knew of. He knew most people had more than one name, but he and Josh had been on their own a long time.

"Luke, were you there in Eagle Bend when your brother was killed?"

The youth pushed his long, sandy blond hair out of his eyes as he wondered just who this guy was and why he was talking to him. He couldn’t help thinking how stupid it was that someone was paying a mind to him now that he was getting ready to die.

He answered Chris, "No. I weren’t there. But I know he did it. They was all talkin’ ‘bout how the tracker from Four Corners shot ‘im."

Chris winced at that, thinking for the thousandth time how he wished he had gone with Vin to Eagle Bend. He could feel the sharpshooter’s unease in the midst of the commotion, knowing how uncomfortable the man was at having attention called to him.

Chris asked him, "Do you know why he had to hurt your brother?"

Luke bristled at that. "He didn’t hurt my brother, Mister. He killed ‘im. And yeah, I know what they said. That he was beatin’ up some old people. But Josh wouldna killed ‘em. He wouldna done what they said."

"He had a gun," Chris stated quietly. God - there was something about this kid! He just couldn’t turn away from him. They held each other’s gaze a moment longer – each seeing something in the other that they could neither understand nor put a name to. The vision of Vin vomiting all that blood appeared to Chris suddenly then, and he rose with swift, angry movements to pace in front of the cell. He was all torn up inside and confused. He just couldn’t figure how he could have any feelings at all for this boy who had blown away his best friend.

The kid swallowed, for the first time thinking this man could be dangerous. Of course, it didn’t matter. He’d be dead soon. He didn’t mind dying, although if he had a choice, he’d have picked a better way than hanging. But he didn’t have a choice, not from the moment he saw the body of his dead brother.

He knew Josh had the gun. He’d stolen one for him, too, even though he didn’t want it. He’d rather have a rifle for hunting, but Josh said they needed pistols. "Ain’t nobody lookin’ out for us but us," he’d said. Josh was always looking out for him. Luke felt his eyes fill with tears, but his embarrassment turned to astonishment when he realized that the gunfighter had tears in his eyes, too.

+ + + + + + +

Mrs. Potter was fond of Vin. She cared about all of the seven, and heavens! A woman would have to be dead not to notice how handsome and brave and good-hearted they were. But she was partial to Vin. He did extra things for her, sometimes before she even noticed they needed doing. So she felt a pang of guilt when she brought his assailant a big plate of fried eggs and biscuits. She just couldn’t let the boy starve, no matter what he’d done. When she saw him sitting there on the floor, her first thought was that he wasn’t much older than her son. She’d passed Chris on his way out, and saw that JD had just stepped back in. She asked him to open the cell door for her, and he looked doubtful at first, but went ahead and did it – standing close by, just in case. Mrs. Potter smiled at his protective stance, then leaned down to hand the food to the boy. He looked up at her, puzzled – but oh, so hungry!

"Thank you, Ma’am," he said.

Mrs. Potter caught her breath, thinking, "this boy is no killer." She’d seen the eyes of a killer, but no, not this boy’s. Suddenly, she realized she had another reason for wanting so much that Vin would live – because she didn’t want this boy to die.

+ + + + + + +

The unmistakable sound of vomiting woke Nathan from his light sleep. He was at his patient's side in seconds, quickly registering the fact Buck and Josiah had replaced Chris. Vin brought up less of the vile smelling fluid this time, and Nathan was momentarily relieved, until the poor man's stomach continued to rebel with dry heaves. Nothing - there was nothing he could do except watch every, single agonizing spasm. Nothing he could even offer the tracker, knowing he wouldn't keep it down.

Larabee shot through the door just then, as if he'd been summoned. Josiah and Buck quickly moved aside, just as Vin's body finally quieted. Chris could see that his friend was more aware, his glassy eyes trying hard to focus, and he called to him, "Hey, Cowboy - you with me?"

Vin rolled his eyes to Chris's face, and the total misery there pierced the gunman's heart. Larabee swallowed the bile that risen in his own throat and, turning his gaze to the other men in the room, saw his own despair reflected in their eyes. They'd all seen men with similar wounds, and had watched as those men died slow, painful deaths - sometimes days or even weeks later. He couldn't bear the thought of that happening to Vin.

He turned back to his sick friend, took a hold of his hand, and did the one thing he swore he never would - he lied to one of his men. "It'll get better, Vin," he spoke soothingly. "I promise it'll get better. You'll be all right. You just hang on." The lie apparently served its purpose, for Vin's eyes soon fluttered closed. Chris lowered his head as he felt someone's hand on his shoulder. It could have been anyone of the three men offering him their support. It didn't matter - they all understood the deception. But he should never have lied - should never have promised. He should never have cared so much.

+ + + + + + +

As that long day passed, the men again took turns sitting with their sick friend. Nathan and Chris hovered close by, each resting on the nearby cot when exhaustion overcame them. Vin had become increasingly restless, the soft sounds of his agony hitting the men hard. Not one of them feared death, and would gladly face their own head on - but they couldn't do this for Vin. Helpless, powerless, impotent - words that were unfamiliar to men such as themselves. But the fact remained - there was not a damn thing they could do. The cards had been dealt and each of them looked at the hand in their own unique way.

Josiah came dangerously close to folding as he'd helped Nathan with the bandages. Vin had cried out with each excruciating movement, and he decided no, he hadn't made his peace with this at all. God was nowhere to be found in this room.

Buck, on the other hand, continued to aim all of his animosity at the 'dealer'. He had been there when Nathan had gotten a half a cup of water down Vin, only to have him throw it all back up. He felt bad about leaving JD with the burden of watching the prisoner, but God help him - he just couldn't trust himself to be anywhere near that kid.

Ezra was getting tired of bluffing, and wondered when he had become such a cry-baby. He seemed to be holding back tears all day long. Vin had looked up at him once with lost, desperate eyes, and Ezra thought again, "Why didn't I do something?" He prided himself on his ability to read people, it was essential to his livelihood. Yet, he had totally misread that young man - believed he wouldn't shoot. How could he be so wrong?

+ + + + + + +

JD had gladly accepted his role as prison guard. He felt uncomfortable in the sick room for a whole slew of reasons, and he was glad that his friends understood that. But he didn't quite know what to do with himself. He'd rather be out riding or shooting or just about anything other than just sitting.

The boy in the cell had said nothing - not a single word to his prison guard since he'd laid eyes on him - a peculiar thing to JD who couldn't imagine going an hour without talking, let alone a whole day. Mary had come in and tried to get him to talk, to "tell his story", but he wouldn't talk to her either. JD wondered about that, too. Hell, the kid may be young, but what male in his right mind could say no to a woman as pretty as Mary Travis? Except maybe Chris.

Mrs. Potter came in a few times, and the kid did seem to warm up to her a bit. Of course, Mrs. Potter was a mighty fine cook and to a hungry boy - well, JD figured she'd look even better than Mary Travis.

He thought about telling the boy what a fine man Vin Tanner was, but he didn't think the tracker would appreciate that - him being such a private man and all. So he tried to keep busy reading his book, looking at wanted posters, cleaning up, anything to keep his mind off Vin maybe dying. But he wished the judge would get there quick, because, Lord, he was bored.

+ + + + + + +

The long day turned into a long night. Vin's fever and Nathan's sense of helplessness seemed to rise proportionately with each passing hour. At one point, Nathan asked Chris if maybe they should send for a real doctor from a neighboring town. They'd have to come up with some cash, but the way Ezra had been looking all day, that wouldn't be a problem.

Chris almost smiled, in spite of the dire circumstances. It was an old argument. One that came up anytime one of the seven was seriously injured. Each of the men trusted the ex-slave with their life, and not a one would prefer a professional to take his place. But Nathan still had trouble accepting such faith, especially in the dark times.

The gunman noted the dark shadows in the healer's eyes at this especially dark time. He spoke gently, hoping he could somehow alleviate the man's concerns. "I don't know, Nathan," Chris said. "Do you really think a doctor could do anything more or different than you're doing?"

"Don't know, Chris," Nathan answered, frustration clear in his voice. But no, he didn't think so. He just wanted so badly for there to be another option.

"I don't think Vin would care to have a stranger fussin' over him. Let's just leave it as it is."

A softly spoken vote of confidence given, and Nathan accepted it with a small smile. Chris was right, if Vin died, it would be with his brothers - and only them, by his side. And not for lack of Nathan trying.

He had begun to give the sick man small sips of water, a mere teaspoonful, every fifteen minutes or so, as the signs of dehydration became more and more evident. He felt measured relief with each little bit that stayed down. When the sun finally rose, and their friend still lived, all the men experienced a subtle shift in thinking - from when Vin died, to if Vin died. The poet in the sensitive tracker would have appreciated the dawning of hope that accompanied the dawning of the day.

+ + + + + + +

But something was eating at Chris. And so he once again made his way over to the jail. He found JD sleeping. Poor kid had spent his second night there, and he must be going nuts by now, being cooped up all day. He made a mental note to talk to the other boys about setting up some kind of schedule. Not that he believed the kid - Luke - would try anything, but then, who would believe by looking at him that he could shoot a man in cold blood?

The boy in question lay on the cell floor, his knees bent and one arm over his eyes. When he heard the gunslinger approach, he quickly wiped away the tears - wasn't about to let anyone see him cry, and sat up.

"Why don't you lie on the bed, Luke. It's a hell of a lot softer," Chris spoke.

"Yeah - too soft. Ain't used to it... like t' sleep on the ground, under the stars," Luke answered.

"You even sound like Vin," Chris muttered.

"Who?" Luke asked, confused by this man who was hard as nails one minute and gone soft the next.

"Vin. My friend - and the man you damn near killed."

Damn near? So he wasn't dead? Well then, what did that mean? He wouldn't hang after all? If they let him go, what would he do? Without Josh . . .

Chris read the play of emotions on the boy's face and continued. "He's in real bad shape - may die yet. Either way, Judge Travis will be here soon to decide what to do with you."

The man in black waited then for this news to sit with the boy. It seemed to be long minutes before Luke finally looked up at him and spoke.

"Don't matter none," he said with a hopelessness that made Chris flinch.

The gunman continued, voicing the gut feeling he'd had all along. "I don't think you wanted to kill Vin, Luke. I don't think you're a killer at all. I think you just figured you were supposed to avenge your brother's death, out of loyalty to him."

"Hell, course I was supposed to!" Luke spat out. Josh had made that clear to him early on. They looked out for each other, took care of each other, and if someone hurt the other, they took care of that, too. Didn't matter if Josh might have been wrong in what he was doing. Didn't matter that he couldn't sleep at night for seeing that tracker's face and the bloody mess from what he'd done. Didn't matter that Josh was getting in more and more trouble when Luke wasn't there to stop him. Why, oh why hadn't he been there that night?

Luke didn't know it, but the lean gunman was asking himself the exact same question.

As Chris turned to leave, Luke called out to him, "Hey, Mister! What's your name?"

Somewhat surprised, Larabee glanced back and said, "Chris."

"Just Chris?"

His mouth turned up a bit at that as he answered, "Yeah, just Chris."

+ + + + + + +

Something was eating at Buck, too. Good ol' Buck, who lived every moment in life to the fullest, and was well known for his generous heart, was feeling just plain mean. Everyone knew he had a temper. He'd blow up fast and furious at any perceived injustice, but then it was over. It was well and truly over and he went back to being good ol' Buck. Except for now. His anger smoldered like burning embers and he couldn't get away from it. And it ate at him. He just couldn't figure it. And he sure didn't like it. So he headed over to the jail to "lay some demons to rest", as Josiah would say.

The tall man walked with purposeful strides - ready now, more than ready. "Hey, JD, go for a ride," he demanded.

"Oh, Buck. Well . . . uh . . ." JD stammered. What had happened to bring Buck here, looking like this? With sudden panic, JD asked, "Did Vin . . . ? Is he . . . ? Why couldn't he say the words? He was supposed to be a man, not some stupid, blubbering kid.

"Vin's holding on, JD. Now go on, Kid," Buck said sternly. But he softened on a second glance at the young man's obvious apprehension, and added, "I promise I won't hurt 'im. Just wanta talk a spell."

"Sure, Buck. I could use a break," JD said as he grabbed his hat and exited for a few hours of fresh air and freedom.

As Buck approached the cell, he found Luke in his customary place on the floor. "Stand up, kid. I ain't talkin' down to you."

Luke had never had so much attention in his short life. Another tall, lean gunman confronted him - but this one had murder in his eyes. Guess he'd better stand up.

Wilmington began, "I just want you t' understand about the man you seem so determined to bury. He's a good friend and a good man, and he don't go shootin' kids unless he has a damn good reason."

Luke scoffed at that. There had to have been another way - had to have been.

Buck continued, "It tore 'im up good inside. I saw 'im when he got back from Eagle Bend. Didn't know at the time what was wrong, but he was hurtin' somethin' fierce."

Luke believed him, didn't want to, but he did. He saw it in the tracker's eyes, just before he pulled the trigger. "Maybe so, Mister," Luke spoke up. "But my brother's still dead, and it wouldna been right of me to let that lie."

"Killin' don't solve nothin', boy. Can't bring your brother back. Ruining a whole mess of lives don't change nothin'. And I'm bettin' shootin' Vin ain't helped you feel any better."

No, he didn't feel better. He was starting to feel real bad about hurting all these nice folks around here. But he wasn't ready to admit yet that he was wrong. He owed Josh something, and for a reason he didn't understand, it was important to the youth to make this man see that.

"You seem awful fond of that kid sheriff, Mister."

"What?" Buck asked, puzzled where the boy was going with this.

"I was just thinkin' - if somebody killed 'im, what would you do?"

Buck was taken aback at that. No dummy, this kid. He was still angry for Vin, but all of the sudden - he was a whole lot closer to being good ol' Buck again.

+ + + + + + +

What ate at Josiah was so deep and dark that he couldn't step foot in his church. Could hardly even stand to look at it from down the road. He'd often been at odds with God. In fact, he and God had pretty much been in a state of diffused conflict his entire life. But he truly did try to walk the path of light, clumsy though he may be. Now, though, the darkness overwhelmed him so that he feared taking a single step. Josiah, a master at soul searching and self-introspection, didn't have a clue where to begin. This wasn't the first time one of the seven faced death, and only a fool would think it would be the last, so he couldn't understand why he had not only fallen off the path, but he couldn't even think how to find his way back.

He entered the jail to relieve Buck, still deeply entrenched in his thoughts. His eyes were immediately drawn to the boy in the cell. He didn't appear to be a demon in disguise, but as he was the catalyst for the preacher's current crisis of faith, Josiah came forward to get a better look. Good Lord! He could be Vin's baby brother! Sanchez unwittingly whispered, "Lord, what does this mean?"

Luke was thinking this tracker sure had an awful lot of friends. He heard Josiah's soft question, and asked one of his own. "You a preacher or somethin'?"

"Used to be - of sorts," Josiah answered darkly, still dismayed by the boy's resemblance to his friend.

"Preacher man took me and Josh in once. Said he was called to preach, said the Lord himself came down and lit a fire in 'im. That how it was with y'?" Luke could see that the big man was listening to him, and he was starting to warm up to people taking some store in what he had to say.

"Not quite," Josiah answered.

"What happened? Fire go out?"

"Maybe so." Josiah couldn't tear his eyes away from the kid's clear blue ones.

"Well, that preacher, he spoke real nice words about this man, Jesus, but he sure was mean t' us. Never did think Jesus woulda liked what he done. We weren't there long, took off quick as we could."

"How'd you feel about the Lord after that?" Josiah wanted to know, needed to know.

"The Lord? Hell, he didn't have nothin' t' do with it. It's people that's mean t' each other. Don't have nothin' t' do with the Lord or that Jesus fella. Ain't you figured that out yet?" Luke wondered if he'd said something wrong, the way the preacher was looking at him.

Josiah was thinking that path might be coming back into view - thanks to a most unlikely source.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra knew exactly what was causing his indigestion. So when it was his turn to sit with the would-be assassin, he relished the opportunity to perhaps achieve some peace of mind. He'd been wrestling with feelings of guilt and grief for days now. Feelings he was entirely unaccustomed to and quite anxious to rid himself of, if that were at all possible.

As the gambler approached the cell, he stopped short upon noting the remarkable resemblance between this boy and Vin, something he had apparently previously missed. Could they, in some bizarre twist of fate, be of some relationship to each other?

Luke's first thought, on the other hand, was that this fancy gambler sure didn't seem to go with that tracker. He could easily see the other men being friends of his, but this one didn't seem to be the type. He remembered the fancy man from the day of the shooting. He'd been standing just behind the tracker, and Luke had worried that the bullet might go straight through the tracker and hit the gambler, too. It was hard enough killing one man - he sure didn't want to kill two.

Ezra eyed the boy studiously, curious that the youngster seemed to be eyeing him with equal intent. Standish spoke first, "You, young man, have caused me tremendous physical and emotional discomfort over the past forty-eight hours. I should like to know what on earth possessed you to pull such a foolhardy, disastrous stunt."

Luke had never heard talk like that, but he was pretty sure the man was asking him why he did what he did, so he answered, "Y' already know why I done it. Yer just mad cause y' didn't stop me."

Hit point-blank, Ezra gasped before regaining his composure and continuing, "I cannot deny that you are correct in that assumption, but I also cannot fathom why you took the shot knowing two other men had their weapons trained on you."

"Didn't reckon it mattered what happened t' me. All's I could think 'bout was Josh bein' dead and that tracker bein' the one that did it. So how come you was the only one that didn't pull yer gun? I reckon y' have one, same's the others."

"I've asked myself that a thousand times, I assure you. But I wasn't the only one that didn't draw."

Ah, there it was. If he hadn't been such an astute observer of human nature, he might have missed it. Ezra saw the look of remorse that filled Luke's eyes. Yes, he knew Vin hadn't drawn - knew he'd shot him in cold blood. And he regretted it. The boy had acted out of pure, distraught emotion, and Ezra had been right in his assessment. The youth was not a killer. Still, Vin lay near death, and he could not shed his responsibility for his part in that.

As if reading his mind, Luke spoke up. "Y' know, I woulda done it anyway. Weren't nothin' y' coulda done t' stop me."

Ezra realized then that he knew that all along. Like any man, he had difficulty relinquishing control over things and events he simply could not change. In such cases, one can only go on and pick up the remaining pieces. Ezra still hadn't quite regained his peace of mind, but the pieces were falling back into place.

Part 3

While the others weathered their personal storms from within, Vin's battles were apparent for all to see. The fire in his body gave rise to tortured dreams, where the face of a boy cried out first in pain, then anger, then sorrow. Who was he and why did he torment him so? Even worse, were the moments of brief lucidity and painful awareness. Vin had joked with Chris that they were going to hell, but he'd planned on being dead when he got there. His throat burned, matching the burning in his gut, and his back ached with a vengeance. He was having trouble breathing, too, so the boys had moved his bed closer to the window, knowing how much he liked - needed to have the fresh air on his face. Nathan kept trying to give him something for the pain, but he'd only throw it up and feel even worse. His only comfort came from the nearness of his friends, whose presence he felt even when he was lost. He wanted to tell them they didn't have to stay, to get on with their lives - but he was so grateful they were there, didn't think he could bear to do this alone.

Nathan and Chris worked tirelessly to keep the fever under control, bathing him with cool water and slipping the precious liquid down his throat whenever the opportunity arose. But with Vin still vomiting dark, awful stuff, Nathan had to be careful how much he gave him. At one point, the young man pleaded for more, and denying him was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. "Soon, Vin - but your body can only handle a little at a time."

Vin had looked at him with such resignation then, that it alarmed Nathan. He glanced at Chris, and noted that he had seen it, too.

"You ain't thinking of quitting on us, are you, Cowboy?" Chris asked, looking into Vin's eyes and sending a clear message of non-acceptance at that.

Did Larabee really expect him to answer? His throat was on fire and it was all he could do to breathe. Hell, he knew he didn't have to speak anyway - Chris could read him like one of Mary's fancy books. And he didn't want him to know just how damn tired he was. Tired of living and tired of dying and he just wanted to get it over with. Vin turned his head from Chris, as much as his weakened body would allow, refusing to let his friend in, knowing he would give him a fight.

Chris gently took a hold of Vin's chin and turned his face back to him, looking for all the world like he would knock the younger man upside the head if he had a chance. "Now you look here, Pard, maybe me and the boys ain't enough to make you want t' stick around - but think on this, you let go and that boy that shot you hangs. You want that to go with you to your grave?"

Larabee knew he was playing dirty, but he also knew how Tanner thought.

Sudden awareness lit Vin's eyes as he remembered...remembered the boy in the saloon, remembered the boy in the alley. The boy who haunted his nightmares.

"Ain't gonna hang . . . Chris. Law don't hang . . . a person for killin' . . . a wanted man," Vin choked in a hoarse whisper. "Be a hero . . . 500 dollars richer."

My God! Chris hadn't even thought of that. How could he forget that Tanner was a wanted man? Of course, most of the town didn't know that. He was sure Luke didn't either. Still, the law would be on Luke's side - probably wouldn't even lock him up. His confusion over this dilemma escalated up another notch, along with his growing headache. All right, he'd think of that later, right now the priority was Vin.

"Vin, he seems to be a decent kid, and I think he's feelin' bad about all this. I think he needs you to pull out of this. You could help him in ways the rest of us couldn't." He believed that, really he did. But even though his words said one thing, Chris's eyes said another - I need you, Vin.

Vin heard both messages loud and clear, and with a heavy sigh, he asked, "His name?"

Chris smiled. He'd called that one right. "The boy that died was Josh. The boy that shot you is Luke."

Well, that was better. He had names to go with these faces that seemed destined to dominate his very soul. It was a crucial piece, a man's name being a sacred thing to Vin Tanner. There were times in his life when his name was all he had. That was why, even though he was wanted, he never hid from his name - spoke it outright and proud. Dangerous as it was, he could not and would not give it up.

He rested easier after that, but Nathan knew the battle was far from over.

+ + + + + + +

The next few days passed in an uneasy rhythm of sorts. Each of the men fell into a pattern of staying at the clinic, watching Luke, or riding patrol. JD always took their leader's turn for patrol, Chris not being able to be away from Vin that long, and JD not able to be with him. He felt guilty for that, but Vin rested better with Chris anyway.

Nathan, of course, never left his patient's side. He worried that the fever just never quite left him, worried that he couldn't keep anything of any substance down, worried that his lungs were filling up. So he propped and prodded, coaxed and coddled, and mostly fretted because there was only so much he could do.

Vin tried to follow what Nathan needed him to do. He tried, too, to keep his eyes open and clear, and not let on to the others just how god-awful he felt. Chris knew, but he never said a word as he sat quietly at Vin's side, giving him the strength to take that next breath when all he really wanted to do was let go.

+ + + + + + +

The others spent more time visiting with the young criminal than they cared to admit. Ironically, they each found themselves guiltily befriending the source of their friend's misery.

JD began telling Luke about the seven's adventures. The youth listened with wide-eyed interest, eagerly devouring every detail, and never once doubting if perhaps the young sheriff embellished a bit - especially his role in their exploits. JD realized that, for the first time, someone looked up to him - and he liked it.

Luke listened with equally avid interest to Josiah's readings from the Bible. Stories like David and Goliath, or Daniel in the lions' den, amazed him. He learned quickly, and Josiah enjoyed his inquisitive mind.

Ezra passed the time teaching Luke to play poker. It was no surprise that he picked up the game quickly. Also of no surprise to Ezra was the fact that, like Vin, he was a master at maintaining a cool, calm appearance, thereby bluffing quite effectively. Yes, the boy had great potential.

Even Buck found a focus of interest for the kid. Luke had asked him, out of the blue, if he had a mother. Wilmington answered, of course he did, everyone did. Luke had looked away for a moment and then asked a strange question - was his mother like Mrs. Potter? The rogue had laughed, and before he knew it, began regaling the boy with stories of his childhood, the good and bad of it. Luke absorbed it all like a sponge - so eager was he to hear how normal people lived. And like the others, Buck warmed up to him, in spite of himself.

Luke looked forward to Chris's visits, sparse though they were, the most. Well, next to Mrs. Potter's. He never stayed but a few minutes, and Luke figured the tracker, Vin, wasn't doing too good. The boy wasn't sure why he enjoyed the gunman's company so much. He wasn't funny like Buck and JD. He didn't tell great stories like Josiah, or teach him fun games like Ezra. He just liked to be with the man, no matter how short the time.

On Chris's mind, what to do with the boy? He knew Judge Travis, delayed a few days but still intent on coming, would look to him for direction in this matter. So he'd given Mary the mission of finding any information she could about where the boys came from and any possible relatives they might have. From Luke, he'd learned that the twins had run off from an orphanage of sorts at around age 7 or 8. Luke had become quite resourceful at living off the land, while Josh had become proficient at stealing. He also, apparently, had a talent for convincing adults that their "parents" lived just outside of whatever town they happened to be in at the time. Whenever anyone became suspicious, they moved on. Chris thought of all the dangers out in this wild country, and felt amazed at their survival. Josiah would have sworn they had guardian angels - at least until several days ago when Vin entered that alley.

Chris noticed that Mrs. Potter had taken a liking to the boy, and he rolled that around in his mind a bit. But this was real life, not some sappy dime novel like JD read, where the good guys always win and everyone lives happily ever after. Hell, Vin wasn't even out of the woods, yet. Besides, he didn't believe in perfect endings.

+ + + + + + +

That elusive perfect ending looked to be even more unlikely when Chris awoke one morning to the sound of rain pelting the window. It was just shy of a week since Vin had been wounded, and the first night the blond had spent in a real bed in a room away from the clinic. Nathan had convinced him that, while Vin hadn't improved much, he hadn't come any closer to dying either, so Chris may as well get a good night's sleep for a change. He had doubted that was possible, but to his surprise, he did sleep, and well, too. But now, as he peered out into the dark, ominous cloud that blanketed the town, he felt a sudden sense of dread come over him.

He entered the clinic just as Vin stirred, and raised his brows at Nathan in a silent question.

"Did okay the first part of the night - been kinda restless the last few hours, though."

Just then, Vin managed to groan, "Nathan . . . I'm sick."

Both men rushed to his side, but Chris reached him first, and blanched when he saw that Vin once again vomited bright, red blood. He raised his eyes in alarm to Nathan, but the dark-skinned man looked away.

Nathan had said just the previous night that something had to give - that Vin couldn't go on much longer the way he was. He had hoped he'd turn the corner for the better, but inside, he suspected that the opposite would prove true, and now his suspicions were confirmed. Something was wrong inside the man - and he didn't know how to fix it.

A pitiful whimper came from Vin as he struggled to catch his breath, and it pained Chris so that he could hardly breathe himself. He knew his friend was fighting hard, desperately clinging to life simply because he had asked him to. And now, for the first time since the ordeal had begun, Chris wondered if he was wrong to hold on to this man so tightly. The despair from those first few days returned in full force as he realized his fear that Vin would fight for days, only to die in the end, appeared to be coming true.

However, for the first time since the ordeal had begun, Vin had a different thought. He didn't want to die - not now. Not as a wanted man whose last act on this earth had been to kill a child. But he knew he was losing this struggle, and as he felt the darkness claiming him, he looked up at Chris with eyes full of remorse and regret. He had so much to say, but the only words he could manage at the moment his eyes closed were these, "Don't let go, Chris."

And that was all Chris needed. "Never," he whispered.

Both men had spoken so low, that Nathan had to strain to hear them. At first he thought Vin was confused, don't let go? But Chris knew exactly what Vin meant, as always, and the intensity of that moment was something Nathan would remember for years to come. Once again, he felt blessed to know these men, to be a part of them - and he vowed to hang on to Vin just as tightly as Chris promised.

+ + + + + + +

All through that day, the rain fell while Vin slipped in and out of consciousness. Josiah determined that Tanner was synonymous with stubborn, thank God. It was questionable how much Vin saw or heard at this point - although it became distressingly apparent that he could still feel far more than they wished. Josiah knew many men who deserved to die prolonged deaths, but not Vin. He couldn't help but ask himself, what was the point?

This time, though, instead of turning away from God, he turned to Him. He found himself compelled to read the Bible to his dying friend, but in truth, he did it as much to draw comfort for himself and the others as for Vin. He knew Tanner was a deeply spiritual man, although he no doubt saw God differently than Josiah. The preacher was convinced that Vin was one of the lucky few who instinctively knew and felt the powers that lay beyond what the human eye could see. Unlike himself, who worked so hard for just a glimmer of understanding.

Chris also wondered, what the hell was the point? All of this suffering served no purpose, except to remind him, once again, that nothing good in this life lasted. In the midst of his troubled mind, Josiah's words entwined and tangled themselves; words meant to comfort that served only to disturb and confuse Chris more. Only one thought was clear to him - he had to help Vin, even if that meant finding the closure he needed so he could move on and rest in peace. Suddenly he knew there was only one person who could do that for Vin - and it wasn't him. It was Luke.

+ + + + + + +

While Vin wrestled with death, Luke wrestled with demons of his own. The cramped cell pressed in on him so that he could hardly breathe. He longed to feel the rain touch his skin. Most of all, he longed to talk to his brother. Josh was part of him, and he was sure the empty hole in him would never go away. On top of that, he felt guilty. Guilty because he liked this town and these people. Josh was dead, and he was making friends.

Most of all, though, he really wished he wouldn't have shot that tracker. The more he heard, the more he knew that he was a good man. Chris hadn't come around at all for almost two days now. Luke still didn't care all that much what happened to him - although, if he could have a hope, it would be to stay in this town - but he didn't want Chris to be sad. And if his friend, Vin, died, he would be real sad. God, it was a terrible mess, and he wished he could just hide somewhere and cry. Darkness was falling again, and tomorrow he'd have to wake up and do it all again - live another day feeling sad and sorry and alone.

Just then, Chris came in, startling the boy.

"Luke," he said seriously, "we've got something to do. You need to come with me."

For one panicked moment, Luke thought they were hanging him after all. But no, the preacher would be here if that were so. "Where we goin' this time of night?" he asked.

"To see Vin."

It was clear that was all the gunman was going to offer. It was also clear that he was going - no questions asked or answered.

Luke finally felt the rain and resisted the urge to whoop for joy at the taste and smell of it. He was overjoyed to feel the fresh air, and he really didn't think about where they were headed, or what he was to do, until they reached the door of the clinic. Then it hit him - he was supposed to go in there and see the man he'd tried to kill. What did Chris want him to do? What would he say?

"Please don't make me go in there, Chris," he pleaded, pure panic in his eyes now. "I can't . . . "

"Luke," Chris interrupted, "you ain't got a choice. There's things that need to be said between you and Vin before he can go on." At the startled look on Luke's face, he softened. "I reckon he's looking for forgiveness, same as you."

Luke entered the room and gasped. They were too late! The tracker was dead! Had to be - the way his face was all white and his eyes sunk back deep in his head. Oh God! He had done this.

Chris led him to the bed, and sitting gently on the side, put his hand on Vin's cheek, saying, "Come on, Pard. Need to wake up a minute."

Vin obediently opened his eyes, and Chris was relieved to see a sign of awareness there. He continued, "Vin, I've brought Luke to see you. He's got something to say, okay?"

Vin nodded slightly and rolled his eyes to the boy standing next to Chris.

Choking back tears, Luke said, "I'm . . . sorry . . . I wish I wouldna done it . . . I just couldn't . . ."

Vin saw the agony in the boy's eyes, and he couldn't take it. "No . . . don't," Vin groaned. "My . . . fault."

"It wasn't. It was my brother's. He shouldna fired at you. I don't blame you no more. Yer friends set me straight."

Vin felt the weight lift from his soul as he struggled once more to say, "I'm sorry ... too . . . wish I'd done it . . . different."

And as Vin's eyes slid closed, Luke began to sob. The grief, the shame, the uncertainty, the fear all broke free at last, and he could contain himself no longer. Chris gathered the boy in his arms and allowed him to weep.

+ + + + + + +

Nathan entered the dark clinic, surprised that Chris had not yet lit the lamps. Groping around in the black, he nearly tripped before finding the source of light and getting it lit. As the soft illumination filled the room, he was stunned at the sight before him. Chris and Luke lay sound asleep on the cot, the blond's arms wrapped tightly around the boy. He looked worriedly at Vin, and found him also in a deep, peaceful sleep - the first healing sleep he'd had all week. Nathan didn't know what had happened while he'd been out, but Lord, it must've been good.

+ + + + + + +

Vin slept for several days after that. The vomiting lessened and the fever gradually subsided, and in small, slow increments, he came back to them. Josiah said it was a miracle, and no one argued with him. It still surprised him though, when he spotted Chris one evening in his church, with his head bowed. "Ah, that was the point," the preacher had whispered as he lifted his eyes heavenward.

Luke stayed with Chris in his room during that time - no one wanting to lock him up again, knowing there was no need. His days were full with helping Mrs. Potter at her store, and following JD around. Sometimes he'd sneak in a game with Ezra, when Mrs. Potter and Mrs. Travis weren't looking. Mostly, though, he liked being with Chris, who taught him to whittle and, when it became clear Vin would survive, took him fishing.

Chris also encouraged him to spend time at the clinic. Both Luke and Vin accepted the forgiveness the other offered, but still they struggled with guilt - neither one able to totally forget the reasons they were drawn together. The gunman had been right that his friend would be able to relate to the youth in a different way than the others. In the moments when they were alone together, Luke began to open up to Vin, sharing his fears, frustrations, and longings. He'd found a kindred spirit in the quiet tracker - another human being who understood the meaning of being truly alone in this world. Except, Vin wasn't alone anymore, and he gave Luke hope that maybe things could be different for him, too. In fact, the boy had heard the others talking about how much he and the tracker looked alike, and he thought maybe he and Vin really were kin. He started wishing Mary Travis could make that dream come true.

Diligent though she was, Mary had not been able to turn up any information at all about the boys. So when Judge Travis finally made it to town, the six men met with him at the jail, while Luke stayed with Vin. The judge, knowing that none of the men were in a position to take on a boy, offered to take Luke back with him and find him a decent home. The men looked at each other, each thinking the same thing - to turn their backs on Luke would almost be like turning their backs on Vin.

Chris spoke up, "You know, Judge, I think we can take care of this. We appreciate your help, but I reckon the best place for him is right here." He had no idea at the moment exactly how they would take care of it, but they were resourceful men, they'd figure it out.

Judge Travis was not the least bit surprised by this, considering what Mary had told him, so he nodded and smiled. "You know where I am if you need me."

+ + + + + + +

Several weeks passed before Vin gained enough strength to leave the clinic. He continued to have trouble eating, causing the already lean man to become alarmingly thin and prompting the women in town to shower him with baked goods. Nathan hovered over him incessantly, and even Larabee shadowed his every move. He was about to tell them all not to worry about him starving - he'd just go plumb crazy instead, when Chris offered to take him out of town for the night.

"Nathan okay with that?" Vin asked the gunman suspiciously. He didn't usually check his schedule with Jackson, but the man had worked awfully hard to keep him alive and, in spite of his grumbling, he really did appreciate his efforts.

"He suggested it. Said you need to get away. We'll take Luke along. He needs to get out of town almost as much as you do."

Chris thought he might never see a finer sight than the smile his friend turned on him at that moment. He gave the tracker an affectionate pat on the back, and moved on to ready the horses.

The others gathered around to say good-bye, even though the small group would only be gone a day or two. The events of the past month reminded them how quickly life can change, and nothing should be taken for granted.

As the trio rode off, Buck commented, "You know, Vin and Luke kinda favor each other."

JD looked at Buck incredulously. "Geez, Buck! You just now noticing that?"

Nathan, Josiah, and Ezra chuckled.

"Hell, JD! You think I spend my time lookin' at young boys? Don't pay much attention to how the six of you look, either. Got better things to occupy my time and my eyesight!"

+ + + + + + +

Out on the trail, Luke kept pace with Vin, while Chris rode a few steps behind. Both the boy and the sharpshooter relished being out in the open again, and for a long while, no one spoke. Finally, Luke asked the question that had been on his mind for the past few weeks.

"Y' reckon me and you is kin, Vin?"

"Don't know, Luke. Don't reckon we'll ever know. But it don't matter none." At the youth's hurt expression, he continued, "Ain't blood that makes you kin, anyway. Me and Chris ain't blood kin, but we're brothers. Hell, all of the boys are more to me than kin are to some folks. Same with you and me. What's in our hearts ain't got nothin' t' do with blood."

Luke smiled at that and felt real warm inside. He felt even warmer when he shared his good news with Vin. "Y' know I got me two names now, Vin? Just like you and everybody else. Luke Potter. Sounds kinda nice, don't y' think?"

"Sure does, Luke. Mrs. Potter's a fine woman, takin' you in like she has and makin' you part of her family. Potter is a good name, and Potters are good people. And don't you ever forget that. You live up to that name, Luke - make her proud she gave it to you."

"Don't you worry none, Vin. I got me a good name and I ain't gonna do nothin' t' bring it shame."

Vin nodded solemnly at his promise, before giving him a crooked grin.

Chris couldn't help but smile at their conversation. The sun began its slow decent in the western sky in breathtaking shades of pink and orange, and he had to admit - it was a perfect ending.

The End