Two Fish Run Into a Wall

PART I

Prologue

The Saloon….

JD sat down opposite Buck, Vin, Josiah and Ezra, his eyes bright and his smile unnaturally bright. They all knew that look. Ezra coughed suddenly, jumping up from his seat, the full house in his hands slipping from his fingers, forgotten.

"Anyone need a drink?"

Unfortunately, he only made it a step before Josiah grabbed the tails of his green jacket and yanked, dumping Ezra unceremoniously back into his seat. The gambler shot a betrayed look at the preacher, who just raised his eyebrows mockingly in return. The smile dampened a little on JD's face as he took in the pantomime, but came back full wattage when they all four men turned their attention back to him. The fact that all looked slightly frightened did nothing to deter him.

"Two fish, swimming in a stream," he began, his eyes sparkling, "run into a wall." JD bit his lip, pausing for ‘dramatic effect.' Vin shut his eyes in anticipation, Josiah looked skywards for salvation, Ezra's face looked like it could have been etched from stone, while Buck began to look a little ill. JD pressed on, "And you know what the first fish says to the second?…"Dam!"" He started laughing, "Get it? Dam? D-A-M? Instead of Damn?"

"Someday, kid," Buck moaned, his skin slightly green, "someone's going to shoot you over one of your jokes."

Chapter One

On a hillside about a day's ride from Four Corners….

Small detonations in the hills rocked the countryside, startling the animals and sending birds into the air in an explosive rush of feathers. A coyote ran around in circles for a little while, not knowing where to go to feel safe.

When the rumbling finally ceased, the coyote stopped running, and his paws touched the earth gingerly. Was it done?

A few hundred yards away, men's laughter echoed through the shallow sun-baked valley, bouncing off of rocks and blending into the wind. The coyote looked in that direction, its eyes curious. A few soft pawed steps, and he was closer to the laughter.

"Nice one Jeb," a coarse voice called. "Reckon you blew it to hell that time."

"Thanks Andy," another voice replied.

Zeroing in on the sound, the coyote peeked its head from around a low bush to see two men standing and staring at a huge hole in the side of a hill. Dirt and dust continued to smoke out of the dark space in puffs as the earth tried to settle itself back into place.

"You really reckon that gold in the river came from here, Andy? These mines all look dead to me," Jeb drawled. He was short man with mangy reddish hair and a low brow. Huge bushy eyebrows shadowed beady hazel eyes, and years of sunburnt skin had built up a sort of crust on his face that he routinely scratched through an unkempt red beard.

"It's here," Andy replied. He was a little taller, but, in all other aspects, looked a lot like the man next to him. Brothers. Only difference, really, was that Andy looked a little more human than Cro-Magnon. "Water for the river comes from the springs out of this hill. Those nuggets have to come from here."

"Yeah, I guess," Jeb stuck his head into the newly expanded mine, then walked back to a small cart on which some hammers and other mining implements were sitting. Pulling out a hat with a candle attached to the front, he shoved it on his head, lit the candle and headed towards the opening.

Not long inside, he gave a low whistle.

"What?" Andy tried to see into the interior.

"This is it, Andy; There's gold dust in the air!" Jeb's voice echoed against the freshly dynamited walls. More bits of rock fell.

Andy grinned and leaned back, then he did a quick dance of joy. "We're gonna be rich, rich men, Jeb. RICH men!"

"Yup…so long as we can get them nuns gone and make this land ours," Jeb called back.

Andy's smile vanished, vaguely looking in the direction where the nuns lived. A blackness took him over then, his true nature seeping out like puss from an infected wound.

"I don't understand women who don't know a good offer when they see it, Jeb," he said darkly. "I understand them even less when they don't respond to a good threat when they hear it, either."

"How long you reckon we got before them nuns go searching for help?" Jeb asked, walking back outside. He pulled the hat off and blew out the candle.

"They're not."

"Huh?"

"Well, they don't have the money to hire anyone other than locals, and no one around here will help them. I also understand that the mother superior doesn't condone violence. She'll eventually figure out that we're not just whistling Dixie here and pack up and leave. Find someplace else to go."

Jeb frowned, "I dunno, Andy. I don't like the idea of hurtin nuns. You's a Christian, Andy. You don't jes go hurtin' nuns."

"First off, they're papists, Jeb. That's not real religion. Like Jews. Just old ways that don't mean squat. A good Christian doesn't liken some ancient potentate in Rome to God, no sir. And second…well, I'd only hurt them as a last resort."

"Yuh promise?"

Andy looked at his brother, a small smile on his lips. Jeb looked puzzled by the expression, but when Andy walked over and patted him hard on the back and laughed, the younger brother laughed as well.

The older brother stopped abruptly when movement out of the corner of his eye had him looking towards a clump of bushes.

"Hey, whazzat!" he yelled suddenly, pulling his gun. Jeb jumped a mile, unprepared.

The coyote had stepped on a twig trying to get closer, and jumped when Andy's eyes fell on him. The lithe creature immediately took off running as Andy pulled his gun and started firing.

"Coyote! Mangy cur! Filthy scum!" The red headed man kept firing even after the coyote was well away, vanished into the underbrush. "Disgustin' creature," Andy spat, lowering the smoking weapon and turning back to his brother. "C'mon, we got plans to make."

The two men started walking, both grabbing their horses as they went and leaving the mining supplies behind.

Sitting in the bushes next to where Andy had been shooting at the coyote, a young, dark-haired boy sat shaking, holding his breath. As soon as he was sure the two men were out of sight, he crawled out and started running to where he'd hidden his pony. He had to go warn the sisters.

Chapter Two

A little later, overlooking a narrow plain, at the far end of which a pretty convent sits….

"What I'm thinking, Jebediah, is that little valley they sit in seems awfully dry."

"Valley? S'not a valley, Andy. That there's a plain, or maybe a mesa. A valley'd be surrounded on all sides by mountains. That place they're in's only got these mountains here, on this side, while the other side drops away. And they're not really mountains, so much as low-lyin' hills…"

Andy shut his eyes, counted to ten, then looked at his brother.

"Do you purposefully do that to annoy me?"

"Do what?" Jeb asked, completely unaware.

Ten counts grew to twenty.

"Right," Andy looked back down at the convent below, "Then I guess I'm thinking that plain they're on is awfully dry….dirty almost…like it could use some irrigating." He looked at his brother, offering him a wicked smile. Jeb blinked back.

"Irrigatin'?" Jeb furrowed his brow, "But it is irrigated, Andy. That's why they's got that dam up here. It stops the river from flooding the plain and they kin control the water to their gardens, like. See," he pointed down below, "all them lines between the fields? Them's irrigatin' canals, Andy."

Andy counted to thirty this time.

"Yes, Jeb, I know what those are."

"Then why did you say that about the plain bein' dry?"

"Jeb…what is our purpose here?"

"Our purpose? Well, you said it yerself, Andy -- to drive them nuns off their land, so we can mine them hills here…."

"Correct. And has offering them money worked?"

"Um…no," Jeb frowned.

"Has intimidation worked?"

"Um," Jeb scratched at his beard, thinking.

Andy started counting again.

"No?" Jeb offered at last.

"Correct," Andy spoke through gritted teeth. "So, since we already established we can't just shoot them…that leaves?"

Jeb stared at him, then smiled, "giving up?"

"No!" Andy shouted, slamming a hand across the top of his brother's head. "Damn it, Jeb, why are you so smart and so dumb at the same time?"

Jeb sniffed, rubbing his head, and made small pathetic noises, almost like a dog.

Andy sighed, then tapped his brother on the shoulder. "I'm sorry, Jeb," he said softly.

His brother immediately brightened, and smiled up at his older brother.

"Oh," Jeb said, "you mean we should force them out, right? Do something so that they can't stay?"

Andy smiled and rubbed his brother's shoulder, "Yes, Jebediah, that's exactly what I mean."

Jeb smiled even more brightly…then it slowly disintegrated, until he was looking supremely puzzled.

"Then why was all that talk about their plain bein' dry? I mean, a‘course its' dry. The river's been dammed."

Andy resolved to count to fifty this time.

+ + + + + + +

The explosion rocked the hillside town, much bigger than the smaller ones they'd been ignoring for the past few weeks. It shattered thin glass windows and shook the weak foundations. Townsfolk ran outside and looked towards the southern plain, just in time to see another explosion destroy the hillside. Mrs. Crabapple, the owner of the only saloon in town (and the local brothel) covered her mouth with her hand as they all witnessed the breaking of the dam in the hills above the convent. Water rushed down in torrents, flooding the small controlled stream and much of the rest of the plain, drowning all of the sisters' crops.

"It's going to hit fast," Mr. Flax said darkly, his mouth etching itself into a frown. "God help them."

Even as the grocer finished speaking, the water hit the side of the stone structure, and a few shouts and screams echoed over the rush. The ominous sound of creaking reached their ears as the water pushed against the walls, annoyed that something should be in its way. It soon overpowered the low surrounding fences, and sped through the small courtyards in front and back…and through the open doors of the convent.

"That'll be their stores gone then," Mr. Duval muttered. "The basement's going to collect that water like a dry well."

"How will they survive now?" Mrs. Crabapple asked, clicking her tongue. "The poor dears."

"If they can't rebuild that dam," Mr. Flax said, "and quickly…they won't."

Slowly, each of the townspeople looked at each other, as if gauging the other's reaction to that news. Sheriff Cotton broke the mood by giving a small smile and shrugging.

"Oh well, guess that's the way it goes." He turned and walked back to the dilapidated jail, his smile growing. Mrs. Crabapple soon followed, followed by the rest of the "concerned citizenry," until only Mr. Flax remained.

The owner of the grocery rubbed at his arms. Sometimes he wished he were a better man. Bowing his head, he turned and walked back to his small store.

Chapter Three

In the Town of Alexandria…

Sister Frances frowned as she stared up at the saloon in the town of Alexandria. By her side, Sister Antonia was sniffing at the air, as if testing it for breath ability.

"Well," Frances said, "this is it." She continued to stare at the structure without moving, "The Black Cauldron Saloon."

"I'm aware of that, Sister Frances," Antonia replied, stopping her sniffing. Instead, she licked her lips, as if she could taste the air she could smell. She looked around at the rest of the nearly silent town of Alexandria, frowning at the quietness of it. The famous Egyptian port that was it's namesake would have been embarrassed to know this place existed.

The reason for their hesitation was obvious. The saloon was bleak. More than bleak. Someone had once obviously thought it would be a clever idea to paint the wood black…not the brightest idea considering they were in the middle of the desert…and what was even worse, no one had kept up the color. Where it wasn't flaking, it was chipped, showing the original paint underneath which…unfortunately…was red. Holes peppered the sides, probably from bullets, and rather nasty permanently wet stains covered parts of the boardwalk and the baseboard of the building. The upstairs windows were hidden by broken shutters (also painted black), most of them near to falling off, and a faded mustard yellow curtain fluttered loosely out of the one open window on the top floor. The main window of the saloon itself, upon which the words "Beer Wimen Gambling" were scrawled in bright red paint, was shattered by two tiny holes spaced at uneven intervals, spiderweb cracks emanating from around each one.

And…and this was perhaps the worst part…no noise at all came from the inside.

"Well?" Antonia asked, nudging the other with her shoulder. "Are you going in?"

Frances was transfixed by the façade, and she had to swallow hard before responding. "I…don't honestly know if I can," she admitted.

Antonia sighed, took Frances's hand, and stepped up onto the boardwalk, dragging her unwilling partner with her.

+ + + + + + +

Four people were inside, each spaced with as much distance between them as possible in the dreary interior. They all looked up as the two nuns entered.

The leading nun, a fifty year old woman with black hair heavily lined with silver, held her head high, her almost invisible pale lips pressed into a thin line. The other, who was following with a clearly unhappy step, was about the same age and had pale hair that might once have been blond but was now closer to white. Her bright pink lips, full and chapped from too much sun, stood out starkly from gossamer thin skin. She kept her pale hair away from her face with a series of combs, but frizzy wisps defied her attempt and stuck out at odd angles. The black haired one, by contrast, wore hers in a tight bun, and not a hair was out of place. Both wore their habits, missing the headpieces, and were covered in dust from head to toe. The white haired one even had smudges of dirt on her nose, as if she wiped her hands across it constantly.

In other words, they both looked like they'd been through hell to get here…only to find they were still in hell.

"We don't serve nuns here," the man behind the bar said, speaking in a deep Yorkshire accent. "You sisters best be on yer way."

"Ah, no, we can't," Antonia said, striding forward. She reached up and patted down her flawless black hair, then walked forward. "We've come about lodging."

A snort from one of the men sitting in the room caused Frances to jump and look in his direction. A rather frightening looking man with three teeth, a tan hat, and more hair coming out of his nose and his ears than the top of his head, smiled back at her. She shivered as his clear blue eyes checked her out.

"Lodgin'?" The barkeep gave a small smile, "Yer not serious. Go stay at the hotel, sisters. Ain't no rooms here, less you want to pay fer ‘em on your back."

Antonia's eyes widened, and Frances whimpered.

"How dare you," Anotnia said, drawing herself up. "We will do no such thing."

"Then there're no rooms," the barkeep replied. He turned his back on them then, to grab at a filthy rag with which he started to wipe the handful of mugs and tin cups behind the bar. Antonia's nostrils flared.

"We have good money," she insisted.

"Well ma'am, that's always better than bad money, but I still don't care. You'll ruin me business. Now git on wid ya." The barkeep didn't turn around.

"Sister Antonia," Frances whispered, her eyes still watching the man with three teeth. He was grinning broadly now and was starting to stand up. "Sister Antonia…I don't think this can be right," she tugged at her sister's sleeve. The other nun ignored her.

"Business?" the black haired woman demanded, slamming a hand on the bar table (and instantly regretting it, as her hand came back sticky). "What business? As far as I can tell, sir, this place is slower than the proverbial snail sitting on the back of the turtle. I'm offering you cash in hand for a room…the one with the yellow curtain to be exact…and I will not take no for an answer!"

"Antonia!" Frances squeaked urgently, tugging harder at the other nun's sleeve. Three Teeth was walking towards them now, and there was no hiding the lothario look in his eyes. Antonia turned, took one look at Three Teeth, and growled deep in her throat. Three Teeth paused, as if reconsidering. Frances dashed around to Antonia's other side and leaned over the bar.

"Please sir, we must have that room. It's only for a few hours. It's imperative that you allow us access, please. Please!" She held out her hand to him in supplication. The barkeep glanced at her over his shoulder, sighed…and walked away.

"Wait!" Frances leaned even further over the bar, as if she could reach him by sheer stubbornness as he disappeared through a door to the back, shutting it firmly behind him. "Don't leave!"

Antonia, meanwhile, was standing her full height – approximately 5 feet 6 inches tall – and was doing everything she could to stare down her nose at Three Teeth…who stood a good four inches taller than her.

His grin returned, and Antonia had to repress a shudder as his breath caught her nose unawares.

With a sharp turn, Antonia grabbed Frances' arm and marched her away and to the back room where the barkeep had disappeared. For a moment, she considered knocking on the door, then, thinking the better of it, she simply pushed it open.

The barkeep nearly fell off his stool where he was sitting with his feet up, reading the paper. The cigarillo fell from his lips to the floor.

"Hey!"

"We must have that room! I have three dollars here, more than triple its possible worth and probably more than you will make all day. Now, please, let us have that room!" Antonia slammed the three coins on the table as she spoke, causing the barkeep to gape at her.

"It's okay, Lloyd," said a calm voice from behind the two nuns, "they're here to see me."

Turning around, Frances squeaked as she found Three Teeth practically at her heels. She pushed herself into Antonia, who equally tried to push the smaller woman protectively behind her.

"We most certainly are not here to see you, sir!" Antonia announced to Three Teeth, wagging a finger at him. "We were told to rent the room with the yellow curtains, where we are going to meet someone, and that person is most certainly not you! Now back away! We are not what you think we are!"

"You mean, you're not nuns?" Three Teeth asked, grinning again and pulling out a half smoked cigar from his pocket.

Antonia stared at him, then whirled around on the barkeep. He had stood up and was trying to figure out where his cigarillo had fallen. Antonia grabbed his jacket, looking up into his face. The fact that Lloyd was well over six feet tall and at least 250 pounds did nothing to deter her.

"Give us that room!" she demanded.

The barkeep jumped back a step, pulling his jacket free and shook his head.

"Nuns? They's not nuns, Hannibal! They's crazy! Just pushing in here like that without a by your leave! What've I'd been doing something…not innocent…in here?" The barkeep glared at Antonia and stuck a finger in her face, "You should respect a closed door, sister. And learn what it means when someone says ‘no' to you! Nuns my arse."

Hannibal laughed, "Sisters, I'm afraid Lloyd startles easily. My apologies."

"What?" Completely nonplussed, Antonia stared back and forth between the barkeep and Three Teeth. Then Frances's squeaking turned into a prolonged squeal as Three Teeth reached up into his mouth and pulled out the rubber and wood mouthpiece. Spitting onto the floor, he turned a grin including a full complement of shiny white teeth on the women.

"Sister Antonia and Sister Frances," he greeted, pulling off his hat to reveal a head of healthy white hair. Tucking the hat under his arm and using his free hand to smooth down his hair, he then stuck the hand out to them to shake, "I'm Hannibal Smith, leader of the A-Team. I understand you need our help."

Chapter Four

"Please tell me you're joking," Face moaned, leaning his head against his hand. He'd just returned from checking on a small ranch the team had invested in, to find that the colonel had just taken on a new client without his knowledge.

Hannibal grinned. This was his favorite part.

""Fraid not, lieutenant."

"They want us to build a dam?"

"Yes. The bad guys in this scenario, Andy and Jebediah Fishman, blew it, flooding the narrow plain on which the convent sits, destroying not only all their crops and grazing land, but flooding the first floor and basement of the convent. If the sisters don't rebuild the dam, and quickly, they'll have to leave…and they don't have any place they can go."

Face emitted another groan, "And a convent, of all places." He turned betrayed eyes on his colonel, "are you punishing me for something? A whole building filled with women, and nothing I can do about it. The sheer torture of this, how could you!" He buried his head in both hands this time. "And I suppose I don't need to ask what we're getting in payment…."

"Now lieutenant, you don't think I would broker a deal without you without ensuring that we were well paid, do you?" Hannibal shook his head in mock dismay. Face peered through his fingers, blue eyes hidden beneath a scowl of skepticism. Hannibal just continued to grin at him. Face sighed, leaned back and stared his colonel straight in the eyes.

"Fine. What are we getting?" the younger man asked.

"Only the most valuable, desired, sought after reward there is."

Face shut his eyes. "I see, and that would be…?"

"Eternal salvation."

Face stared at him, his jaw tense. "Great," he said, "wonderful. After we starve to death because we don't have enough money for food, at least we'll be saved in the afterlife."

"Exactly!" Hannibal said, reaching over and patting Face proudly on the arm. "I knew you would understand!"

Face gave up, lowering his head to the table and covering it with his arms, which almost (but not quite) managed to cover up his mutterings about crazy old colonels and how they really should watch their backs….

The shit-eating grin on Hannibal's face was almost too bright to be real. On the other side of the table, Murdock cleared his throat, not wanting to ruin the colonel's mood, but wanting a question answered.

"Hannibal…isn't this convent close to that town which shall remain nameless?"

The colonel looked askance at the captain, and arched an eyebrow.

"And which town would that be, captain?"

"Oh…you know…the one with that gunslinger….the one with the penchant for black clothes? And, ah, a desire to throw you in his slammer and lose the key?"

Hannibal pursed his lips, then shrugged. "We'll be almost a days' ride away, Murdock. I don't see any reason why any of the men of Four Corners should ever learn that we're near their territory."

Murdock shrugged, and looked at BA, who was looking at Face.

"After all," Hannibal rested a hand on Face's back, "there's not much more to Vista City than the convent, a few ranchos and a few stores." His smile grew wickedly, "I doubt there is even a decent saloon…."

The strangled cry from the lieutenant started Hannibal laughing.

PART II

Chapter Five

Somewhere outside Vista City….

Face rode ahead, habitually scouting for danger at point as they headed towards Vista City. Sharp blue eyes scoured and examined the landscape, taking in everything with almost scientific precision. His white horse moved quickly and easily around the landscape, turning and changing pace with only the slightest indications from her rider, almost as if she knew where he wanted to go before he did. She was a very clever horse, fast and agile…and more temperamental than the highest strung Arabian. Only Face could get near her…and she would do absolutely anything for him. Anyone else just got kicked, bit or shoved.

Hannibal rode second, his chestnut quarter horse solidly built and powerful…if getting on in years. The gelding was nearing old age, but Hannibal didn't care. He was strong, competent, and loyal.

The colonel allowed himself to daydream a little as they moved, confident in Face to spot any trouble and for the gelding to get him away in time. In fact, he was trying to figure out a way to not only build the dam, but to stop it from being destroyed again. He still hadn't figured out the second part yet. According to the sisters, the local law appeared to be well in the pocket of the two Fishman brothers.

BA and Murdock rode behind, the captain humming something tunelessly, often repeating similar parts over and over again, while BA did his best to ignore the tedious noise. Murdock rode a rented horse, a bay mare from the stables of Clearwater. For some reason, the captain didn't like the idea of keeping a single horse for too long. Instead, he changed horses almost as often as he changed personalities…which, perhaps, was fitting.

And BA…rode Van. The huge black horse dominated most others, both in size and in personality. While Face's mare might have been temperamental, Vandal…or Van for short…was just downright mean. It mimicked its rider to a tee, liking those BA liked and attacking those he didn't. Murdock had lost several chunks of his clothing to the black beast (the captain refused to call Van a horse -- the word was just too limiting). The bright red, feathered saddle that adorned Van's back only seemed to add to the intimidating look of the thing.

And at that moment, Van was trying to take a bite out of the muzzle of the bay mare. She shook her head and tried to shift away, but Murdock forced her back in line. He had a reason for sticking close to the big man, and, from the look on BA's face, it was about to pay off.

"Stop it, Murdock," BA hissed finally.

Grinning inside, Murdock stopping humming, looking over at his best friend innocently, "What's that big guy?"

"You know what," the other growled. "Stop that horrible humming."

"Humming? Was I humming?"

BA gave him full glare. In most men, that would have turned them to jelly. In Murdock, it made him smile even more brightly.

"Oh, that humming!" the captain nodded, "but that wasn't humming, BA, that was invention!"

BA groaned and placed a gloved hand to his face -- he knew he shouldn't have said anything.

"See, I realized something the other day, when we passed those rail workers laying those tracks…."

"I don't want to hear it," BA interrupted, recognizing the manic look in the captain's eyes.

"They were singing while they worked," Murdock continued undeterred, "You know what song I mean…" he cleared his throat, then began in a painful warble: "I've been working on the railroad, all the live long day…."

BA grimaced, growled, and tried to urge Van faster. Murdock simply urged his own chestnut forward to match them, stopping his singing.

"And, well, I realized that they've got lots of songs to sing while they are working. And not just them. On the docks, you hear the longshoreman and the sailors sings too. Songs like," he cleared his throat again, lowering it, "What can you do with a drunken sailor, oh what can you do with a drunken sailor…."

"I know what to do with a singing Murdock," BA hissed quietly, "Hooray and up he rises…." He flashed a fist, mimicking an uppercut jab, then reined Van back, to slow him down and ride rear. Paying absolutely no attention to the threat, Murdock just followed suit. BA rolled his eyes. Murdock smiled.

"And cowboys, they sing those cowboy songs. And miners. And soldiers. And factory folk. You know that saying, whistle while you work?" He started whistling. He was actually very good at it, but BA was too annoyed to notice.

"Is there a point to this, fool?"

"Yes, yes, there's a point!" Murdock said, about to explain, when suddenly Face shouted something from where he was in the forefront. The others instantly nudged their horses faster to catch up with him.

Face had reached the edge of a ridge, and was looking down a hillside. Nestled about halfway down was a small town, with only one road going through it. Clustered around this main drag were about twenty buildings, including the usual adobe jail and shop fronts. Other buildings, ranchos and the like, were scattered in other depressions in the surrounding hills, all with etched dirt trails leading towards the town. A little further down and off to the side, a narrow plain rested against the side of one set of hills, and therein rested the small convent. Water ran loosely past and around the simple building, flooding their grounds, rushing down from some place they couldn't see from this vantage point. Beyond the convent's plain, the hills sloped away even further, to collect in a low endless set of plains that ran well off into the hazy horizon.

"Vista City," Face said, looking at the town, a slight touch of whimsy in his voice. "At least the name makes sense," he smiled. "It is a very pretty view."

Hannibal frowned, "Yes…If you're up here," he agreed. "But not if you're down there." He was focused on the convent, his frown deep.

Chapter Six

The Convent….

The colonel had them ride around the small town, to avoid being spotted as they neared the convent. A quick command sent Murdock and BA away to scout the surrounding hills, to seek out the area where the sisters had said the Fishmans wanted to open their mines.

Thus Face and Hannibal were alone as they neared the back door of the convent, the horses picking over the muddy soil, trying to avoid the rivulets that were scattered about from the reforming river. Eventually, they both had to dismount to lead the horses, to prevent them from sinking too deeply into the mire.

"This is no good, colonel," Face said, picking his way through muck up to his ankles. "We should keep the horses back against the hillside. They couldn't move through this stuff quickly in any event."

Hannibal nodded, and the two turned around. Not long after, both horses were tied up in a shadowed thicket near the base of the nearest hill, while the two men returned to sloshing through the muck on their own. Amazingly, Face kept his tongue despite the wanton destruction to his navy tailored trousers, even when the sank up to their knees at times in the swampy water.

The back of the convent was marked by a wrought iron gate, shaped in a gentle arch, between two thick pink walls. A large flagstone courtyard was on the other side, which until recently had probably been kept clean and free of debris. It was probably about thirty to forty feet from the gate to the door, and that space was now filled with half broken pots of ruined plants and completely ruined flowerbeds. Water at least four to six inches deep swirled and eddied through the gate and over the courtyard. The entrance on the far side was up two steps, which was the only reason the water probably wasn't inside. Of course, when the water first crashed through the blown dam, it had probably easily flooded the inside until the water leveled out. The fact that the back door appeared to be half off its hinges and was open was more than enough evidence to support the notion.

Hannibal reached the gate and, after looking around a moment for some kind of bell, decided instead just to push it open. It responded with the squealing groan of twisted metal, and both men cringed.

When they looked up again, three nuns stood in the doorway watching them, all wearing full habits. In the center, a tall woman with sharp blue eyes stared at him, holding a broomstick in her hands almost defensively. To her left and right, Antonia and Frances stood quietly.

"You are Colonel Hannibal Smith?" the tall woman asked.

"Yes mother," the colonel said, bowing his head, recognizing her authority as the mother superior without being told. "And this young man to my left is my lieutenant, Templeton Peck."

"Mother," Face bowed his head as well, though he allowed a little of his usually dazzling smile to peek through. A hint of a smile appeared on the mother superior's face as she saw it, then she instantly hid it again.

"I am Sister Ethel," she replied, still not relinquishing the broomstick, "and, as you have both guessed, I am currently in charge. Let me tell you now that, had we not been forced to ask for your help as a last resort, you would not be here."

Face glanced askance at Hannibal, but the colonel didn't respond to that.

"We need the dam rebuilt, and quickly," Ethel continued. "You know that we can pay you nothing, but Antonia told me that you are willing to accept that. For that, we thank you."

A tiny shudder ran through Face's frame at the reaffirmation that they weren't being paid.

"Now, there are some other conditions…." Ethel continued, but Hannibal cleared his throat, stopping her.

"Mother, perhaps we could continue this inside? My lieutenant and I are ankle deep in cold running water here, and, after our long trip to get here, I'm sure that we would greatly appreciate a chance to clean up a little and perhaps get something to drink?"

Her face hardened, but there was a softening to her eyes as she saw another shudder wrack the thin younger man's frame. This time, he was reacting to the water swirling around his boots, reminded of that fact by Hannibal, but she couldn't know that the earlier one hadn't been for the same reason.

"We don't allow men inside," Ethel began, her voice hesitant. "Besides our own vows, there are other considerations and…"

"Mother, we don't need to go deep inside. Perhaps the kitchens?" Hannibal asked. "I assume they are in the back here? All we ask is the opportunity to sit down so we can discuss a plan."

Ethel sighed, closing her eyes. When she opened them a moment, later, she nodded.

"Frances, get Lieutenant Peck and Colonel Smith a couple of blankets and meet us in the kitchens. Antonia, please make sure that all the rooms nearby are blocked and that no one interrupts us and…try to keep Hannah from…seeing them." In response to her commands, both women hurried into the shadows, and Ethel looked back at the two men. She frowned again.

"You are not to go anywhere inside this place except with me, understand?"

Face sighed, and Hannibal gave a tiny bow. Ethel's frown deepened, then, looking again behind her for something, turned and nodded at them.

"Please, if you would follow me…." She waved them inside.

+ + + + + + +

"How much did Antonia tell you?" Ethel asked, setting water on the small wood burning stove to boil. Before Hannibal could answer, Frances bustled back in with blankets. She gave one to Hannibal, then placed the one around Face's shoulders herself. He smiled at her, and she blushed. Ethel gave her a dark look, so she quickly scampered away and moved to stand on the other side of the small stove.

Hannibal cleared his throat, "She told me that two men, brothers, have been demanding that you sell them your land. They have apparently found a vein of gold in your hills, and wish to mine it. When you wouldn't sell to them, they tried intimidation, threatening to hurt you if you didn't sign title over to them."

Ethel nodded. "That's all true. We did try to reason with them at first, offered to let them mine the hills if they promised never to come near the convent and they gave us part of the profits, but, besides the fact that they laughed at the idea of sharing any profits, they told us that the only way to get the equipment to the mine area would have to be over this plain, which is infeasible. We can't have that kind of disruption, plus it would destroy our crops." She frowned, realizing that they were all pretty much destroyed now anyway. "Also, we…have a woman here, Hannah her name is, whom we take care of, and who reacts very violently to the sight of men. We couldn't do that to her." She sighed, "They also told us that they needed to change our water supply, basically cutting off our streams and wells, because they wanted to use the river's power to make water cannons to blast the hills." She shook her head, "obviously, though we have too much of the river now," she gave a small smile, "we also need it desperately to survive." Her eyes rose to meet Hannibal's, and the man nodded.

"And so, when money and intimidation didn't work," the colonel continued, "they went ahead and blew the dam."

Ethel nodded, "it flooded most of the first floor, and completely flooded our basements stores. One of our sisters, who was down in one of the rooms taking an inventory, was nearly drowned." She shivered, her eyes now looking towards Frances. "She still hasn't recovered from it."

"And Hannah was nearly apoplectic," Frances added, watching the mother superior. "We've two of us with her now, just trying to keep her calm."

Ethel looked back at Hannibal, "We would just leave, colonel, but, besides the fact that we don't have anywhere to go -- we're not exactly central to the church's bailiwick out here -- we can't just move Hannah. We made a promise to someone when we took her in, and we can't just leave her…or leave without him." She lowered her eyes.

"And what you would like us to do…" Hannibal prompted, "is…?"

"To rebuild the dam," Ethel said. "None of the townsfolk will help us. They've all been promised greater prosperity for themselves and the town should the mines happen. The Fishmans have essentially bought them, including the poor excuse for a sheriff here. I'm almost surprised he hasn't evicted us, though…truth be told…all of this land, including the town, belongs to the convent. He has no right to evict us…we've more right to evict him…except that, for all our great estate, we have no real money or power…at least not in the physical sense." She shrugged, and that small smile was back.

"And what happens after the dam is rebuilt?" Face asked.

She looked at the younger man, and shook her head. "Then your job is done."

"But," Face frowned, "what is to stop them from blowing it again?"

"Well, we've written letters to the territorial governor and to the bishop. We hope one or the other might be able to provide us with some help. Protection once you leave."

"The governor?" Hannibal looked at Face.

"Governor Hopewell is governor of this territory, I think," the younger man replied, shaking his head. Ethel frowned at the slight communication.

"You don't think he will help us?"

"Maybe if he's replaced, he might," Face replied darkly. "But the bishop, on the other hand, he might be able…."

"I admit, I do not place great faith in his ability," Ethel interrupted. "He has no real clout here. The church is not what it once was, and we're so far out of the way. I once wrote to him, asking for aid to take care of some local poor, and we received a form letter addressed "Dear sir." I wonder if he even knows we're here."

"He might, if he knew what the Fishman wanted this land for," Hannibal suggested. Ethel shrugged.

"Well, regardless," Face said, looking at the colonel, "any dam that can hold back as much water as we've seen outside is going to have to be pretty strong, colonel. When you told me we were building a dam, I was thinking something a lot smaller. I'm not sure the four of us can build it on our own."

"Four?" Ethel looked at them.

"Two more of my men are scouting around, mother," Hannibal said.

"No, I meant…there are only four of you? From your reputations, I thought you must be a small army."

Hannibal grinned, and Face rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, waiting for the colonel's response.

"We are what we are," Hannibal said, "and most of the time, in most situations, that is more than enough. However, something this labor intensive…I think my lieutenant is right. We will need help. And, if we get help from the men I'm thinking of, then perhaps we can solve the protection problem as well." He looked over at Face, who was nodding.

"Who are you talking about," Ethel asked.

"There is a town north of here," Face said, "protected by seven men who…."

"Four Corners," Ethel interrupted, looking at them both, "You're talking about Four Corners."

A small frown etched itself into both men's brows.

"Yes, mother," Hannibal said, "that's exactly…."

"No. I'm sorry. I can't allow that. Under no circumstances can I allow you any contact with the men there."

Neither Hannibal nor Face knew what to say to that. The surprise was evident on their faces, but the mother superior didn't budge.

"Why?" Face eventually stammered out. "They are good men, honest…."

"I made a promise to someone and, beyond that, you will simply have to trust me." She stood up, brooking no further argument. "If you wish, either Sister Antonia or Sister Frances can take you up to see the dam area now."

Hannibal frowned deeply, glancing at Face, who merely looked annoyed. Still he stood.

"That won't be necessary, mother," the colonel said, "we can find it on our own."

"There are two other items I need to discuss with you," Ethel said, "before you go."

Hannibal inclined his head, while Face leaned back in his chair.

"First," she said, "I would appreciate it if only you or Lieutenant Peck ever come here, and that only rarely. I will recognize you now and it's simply easier that way. And if you could avoid…coming unannounced, I would appreciate it. There is a little boy in the village who often comes out here. If you need a gofer, you can use him. His name is Miguel. You'll probably come across him on your way to the dam. He's often about. His English is poor, but we have been teaching him and he has been practicing…."

Hannibal nodded, already deciding to try and avoid using the child at all. He didn't want any children mixed up in this.

"And two?" Face asked.

"Two," Ethel licked her lips, "I would ask that you never use your guns. I do not want anyone dead or hurt because of this. We would leave and beg for hospitality somewhere else before we ever do that. Although, with Hannah, we may not be likely to get it. Still, even as vagabonds we would be better off than if we knew anything we had done had caused harm to another."

Hannibal frowned, "Mother, with all due respect, it will be extremely difficult…."

"The only purpose of a handgun is to kill, colonel. I will not have that on my or any of my sisters' heads."

"And if someone attacks us, or you? What do you expect us to do?"

"Run away. Leave. Besides, I do not believe they would ever harm us directly. We are not a danger to them. And, if you do not threaten them, perhaps by leaving your guns elsewhere, then I do not believe they will try to harm you either."

"But," Face was frowning, "what about the sister who was in the basement when the dam broke? What if she hadn't gotten out? What if more of you were down there? And this Hannah, surely she's already been badly harmed by all this. Mother, they have already caused harm to you, and the fact that you haven't left will only make them more angry and desperate."

"And if your bishop sends an army to protect you, you know that, just as the Knights Templar carried swords, so they too will be carrying rifles and pistols," Hannibal shook his head. "What makes them different from us?"

"An army would prevent them from acting merely by its presence, colonel," Ethel insisted. "not because of their guns, but because of their size. You, however, are not an army; there are, as you say, only four of you. You would have to use those guns if engaged. The Fishmans would not be foolish enough to engage an army."

"Do not fool yourself, mother," Hannibal said, "an army would be far less likely to intimidate if it didn't have its weapons."

Ethel shook her head, "Violence only begets violence, colonel."

"Yes, I am aware of that, but the violence here has already begun," Hannibal said.

"It has not reached a level which would warrant escalation," she insisted. "Please, I must insist on this point."

Hannibal looked at her, then narrowed his eyes. "Mother Superior, I can not ask my men to disarm. Be aware that we are not mere gunslingers or everyday citizens, we are soldiers. We are well trained, and very conscious of what guns can do. We are aware that the use of our weapons is only and always a last resort in any conflict. Nevertheless, you are asking us to enter a dangerous situation, and we must be able to protect ourselves and you. If there were no trouble here, if we were only just building a dam, then I would have no trouble complying…but when self-defense is a likely need, we must be able to both carry and use our weapons."

Ethel looked down at the table, then back up at them. Her eyes were troubled now.

"Soldiers," she repeated.

Hannibal gave short nod.

She frowned, then sighed. "Will you at least promise not to use you guns except…except when there is absolutely no other option, including running away?"

Hannibal gave a small smile, trying to imagine trying to tell BA they'll have to run away if attacked.

"Colonel?" Face was waiting. Could they really do that? Run away?

Hannibal blew the air out of his cheeks, then nodded at Sister Ethel. "Yes, mother, I promise."

Face swallowed, his jaw tense. When Hannibal glanced at him, the lieutenant shook his head slowly.

"That goes for all of is, lieutenant," the colonel said darkly. "Consider it an order."

Ethel and Frances both looked at Face as he tried to stare Hannibal down. Then, abruptly, Face shut his eyes and lowered his head. Hannibal gave a curt nod and looked back at Ethel.

"All right?"

She gave a tiny grimace, but nodded. "Yes."

Chapter Seven

"This just keeps getting better and better," Face groused as they rode along the ridge over the plain, in the direction of the ruined dam. "We're not only doing manual labor for no pay, but if someone shoots at us, the most we're going to be able to do is run away with our tails between our legs. Ever had a bullet in the back, Colonel? I understand they're nasty."

It was the third such comment since they left the convent, and Hannibal was finally beginning to lose his patience. He was already thoroughly annoyed by the mother superior's "conditions" and his lieutenant was not helping. The thought of having to run away was eating away at him, and that last comment from Face about being shot in the back…he suddenly had an image of one of his men being shot as they ran away, and it made his blood run cold.

Face sniffed, "I still can't believe that…."

"Face," Hannibal said slowly, "Stop."

The lieutenant frowned; he knew that tone.

Perhaps it was the trousers. They were ruined beyond repair.

"I'm just saying…" he began.

"Now. Stop now."

Or maybe it was the fact that the whole escapade had been planned in his absence.

"This is a right mess you've gotten us into this time, Hannibal. A real humdinger."

"Christ, Face! Give it a rest! You're whining would try the patience of a saint!"

Face took a breath, considered his options, then shook his head. He realized suddenly that this wasn't whining. Thing was, something about this whole job had been gnawing at him the wrong way since they talked with Sister Ethel…

"Hell, even if we build the damn thing, they'll just blow it again. And what will we do to stop them, huh? Do you expect me to talk them out of it?"

That did it. Hannibal reined his horse in sharply, turned and glared at Face. The lieutenant rode up alongside and arched an eyebrow.

As soon as he saw Hannibal's face, Face knew what it was that was driving him. It was because they were in over their heads. Hannibal was underestimating the enemy. If he wasn't, he would never have agreed for them not to use their guns.

"Come on, Hannibal. What do you expect us to do, huh?" the conman pressed. "Maybe you will have Murdock confuse them into giving up? Or BA threaten them with his growling? That'll work great when they start firing at us. Who knows, maybe your arrogance alone will repel the bullets."

Hannibal's eyes narrowed. Face frowned. Despite the logical side of him telling him to shut up…his ego just took over, and instead of talking reasonably about what was bothering him…he was falling back on sarcasm. Come on, Face, he told himself, say something straight out….

"Colonel, I'm only trying to point out that I think…."

"I gave you an order, lieutenant," Hannibal hissed. "I'm not going to say this again. Shut up."

"We're wasting our time, here, colonel! Without guns, you're putting all of us at…."

"Shut up, damn it! The decision has been made, and you will follow orders!" The colonel's stare would have frozen a basilisk.

"Fine! Lead us to a slaughter! That way you can use our bodies for the dam's wood!"

Hannibal caught his breath; Face had gone too far with that image. "That's ENOUGH! Not one more word, or I swear I'll…"

"Or you'll what? Risk my life? You do that already."

Hannibal grabbed the lapel of the younger man's dark blue jacket and lifted him out of the saddle slightly, as if he were about to hit him. Face looked down at the hand, glared at his colonel, and ripped the jacket out of Hannibal's hand. He back stepped his mare until he was a few feet behind the other man.

"So, you want me to stop questioning you, is that it?" he asked coldly.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes in answer.

Face sprouted an impudent smile, "Then obviously my company also grows wearisome for you."

Hannibal also knew that tone in his lieutenant, but, just as Face had already gone too far, he also was unable to stop himself.

"Yes," he heard himself saying, "I think it has."

Face nodded, "Fine. Then, after this is over, I will release you of the burden of my presence. Is that better?"

"Undeniably."

"Fine."

"Fine," Hannibal kicked his horse forward, until he was a good ten feet in front of Face.

The lieutenant licked his lips. Damn it, where the hell had that come from?

And how the hell was he going to get out of it?

PART III

Chapter Eight

They reached the dam about half an hour later, or at least what was left of it. On the way, they'd passed by was appeared to be a couple of fresh blasts around a couple of old looking mines. Without being ordered to, Face had stopped at each of them and taken a quick look inside. Mostly he found old timbers and a handful of miner's supplies. There were also some old iron cart tracks, now slightly bent from the heat of the explosions, stacked up against the wall of one of them. Walking out of the last one, he shrugged at the colonel. He hadn't seen much of value inside.

"Well, perhaps BA and Murdock found something," Hannibal said, mostly to himself as Face acted as if he weren't listening. "There must be something in these mines they want."

BA was sitting on one of the boulders near the river edge, already sketching something, as they approached, while Murdock called out measurements.

"It had been fifteen feet across, I think," Murdock yelled, "at the widest point." He was very carefully making his way back to this side of the waterfall that had been created with the destruction of the wooden dam. The two men had tossed a rope across, and the captain was using it to pull himself back. The ground all around them was mud, demonstrating that it had until recently been the bottom of a small lake.

"Careful Murdock," Face yelled as they got closer, halting the horse's outside the edge of the mud. The captain looked up and grinned. BA turned as well, and stood up. Face and Hannibal dismounted, tossing the reins over a low branch of a juniper.

"What've we got?" the colonel asked, crossing over to BA.

"Dam was about fifteen feet wide near the top, and about the same in height in the center, based on the position of the supporting stones, most of which are still here. Probably had flash planks on top, to prevent emergency floods, which sent any excess water down that channel over there," BA pointed to a nearly bone dry deep channel etched off to the side of the hill. "Water would have gone down there to drop harmlessly off the nearest edge of the plain below. Useless now, of course."

"Of course," Hannibal echoed, watching as Face went to help Murdock out of the water. The captain was talking animatedly to the lieutenant, but Hannibal had difficulty hearing over the rush of the water.

"With the dam gone, the river took the easiest route, which is straight down onto the plain and straight to the convent. They didn't have a chance."

"What's it going to take to build it again?"

"Men, money, and time," BA replied. "Look, colonel, I was thinking…Chris Larabee and his men are good men. If Murdock goes, or if we can get a message to one of the others, explain what is happening here, I bet they'd…."

"No."

"But…."

"We already thought of that, BA," Hannibal turned to his sergeant, "but the mother superior cut us off. For some reason, she insists we can't ask them for help. She didn't explain why."

BA frowned, then looked down at his drawings. Blowing air out of his cheeks, he nodded. "Okay…well, the four of us can probably do this, but it'll be hard."

"Not to mention one of us will need to be on guard at all time," Hannibal added. BA grimaced.

"Three of us, then," the sergeant said, then he grimaced. "You know we'll be sitting ducks when we're building the dam," he muttered darkly, "should they take advantage of it, even with one of us on guard." He shook his head, "We're verging on the impossible now, colonel."

"Isn't that our specialty?" Hannibal replied, grinning. Reaching up, he patted at his shirt pocket, then frowned when he didn't find a cigar. He drew in a breath, about to call for Face, when he stopped short. The lieutenant was laughing at something Murdock was saying, and ignoring them.

BA had looked down again at his sketches, trying to imagine it being built with only three men. Without more muscle, it'd be impossible. Perhaps a really good set of pulleys and levers….Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen the habitual motion of his colonel, and was equally expecting to hear the call for the lieutenant. When it didn't come, he looked up from his drawings. Hannibal was frowning at Face.

"Something the matter?" the sergeant asked quietly. He looked over at the lieutenant, wondering what he was missing.

"No," Hannibal shook his head and leaned over to look at BA's drawings. As always, they were drawn with mathematical precision. Still, when he saw the list of goods the sergeant was going to need, his mouth opened slightly.

"You need all that?" he asked.

"Yeah. Otherwise it won't work." BA shrugged, "Face can get it."

"You're awfully sure, sergeant," Hannibal said.

"He'll get it; he always does," BA stated firmly.

Hannibal laughed, "We'll see. I admit, I'm not sure I share your confidence this time. Still, this should be interesting." He looked toward his lieutenant and the captain. "Face!" he called, "Murdock!"

Face looked over, his smile fading instantly. When Murdock saw his expression, his own smile fell as well. The captain was no blinder than the sergeant. Both Hannibal and BA saw the captain's lips ask Face the same question that BA had asked Hannibal: "is something the matter?" Face shook his head and started walking, Murdock on his heels.

"Murdock has told me his latest theory," Face said, smiling again as he got closer to the colonel and BA. "I have to admit, I like it."

"You would," BA snarled.

"Oh, come now, BA," Face said, grinning, "what could you have against music?"

"We don't need a ‘theme song'!" the sergeant shouted. "Not now, not ever!"

"A what?" Hannibal asked, looking at Murdock. The captain practically bounced.

"A theme song!" he said. "See, I had this idea. Every class of working folk has their own music, see. Sailors sing about the sea; Railroad workers about the railroad…."

"Cowboys about the range," Face added, getting into it, "Gamblers about the game…."

BA snorted, "they do not!"

"I'm a gambler, I'm a rambler," Face instantly started singing, "I'm a long way from home…."

"If the people they don't like me," Murdock continued, "let ‘em leave me alone!"

BA growled at Murdock, causing him to jump back a step.

"Anyway," Murdock continued, still talking to the colonel though he had an eye on BA, "I was thinking we need our own music. Something upbeat that we can sing while we're building something, like this dam, or the clever traps BA's already designed to keep the bad guys away."

"Traps?" Hannibal smiled at BA, but, before the sergeant could speak, Murdock was off again.

"Here's what I was thinking, and Face has already given me a staring point. We take a tune everyone knows, like ‘I've been working on the railroad,' change it a little, then put words on it about us. After all, almost all the songs everyone knows are just old songs that have different words and a slightly different beat. And Face here plays the piano, so he says he'll write down the tune for me. Maybe we can get it published! Then, whenever we enter a town, people will see us coming and start singing our song."

Hannibal smiled weakly, "Captain…I think perhaps you might have gone a little too far in that dream of yours. We're fugitives, remember? Being recognized and having a song sung for us when we enter a town would make us stick out a little too much, don't you think?"

"Oh," Murdock couldn't hide his disappointment.

"Now, hold on," Face said, "that doesn't mean we should nix the idea. So people won't sing it for us when we enter a town, it'd still be great to know that people are singing it. Good publicity, now, wouldn't it? Maybe change some minds about us? After all, Robin Hood only became a hero after the people wrote songs about him making him that way."

Hannibal's jaw tensed. "You want to make the government even more anxious to capture us? Is that it?"

"The government will do what the people want, in the end," Face replied archly. "Think about King Richard."

"The government also has its pride, Lieutenant. We make them jokes, the bounties on our heads will increase so fast it'll make your head spin."

"You're mixing up the army and the government, colonel. All we need is to have the President pardon us and…."

"And you're mixing fantasy with reality, lieutenant! Be serious!"

"All legends have their basis in reality, colonel! Who says that we can't use the same tricks?"

"Tricks? You think our life is about tricking people? Of course, maybe yours is." There was a distinct contempt in that voice. "Lord knows where you would be without us. In jail somewhere, I'd wager."

"Oh, nice, very nice," Face nodded. "Mock the hand that feeds you. Nice."

"You? Feed us? Do not forget your place lieutenant, and who makes the decisions around here."

"How can I forget? You remind me constantly how much better you are." Face's eyes were narrowed in anger, his hands in fists. Hannibal arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting for it. Both BA and Murdock saw it, and looked at each other worriedly.

"Hey, there's plenty of time to talk about this later," Murdock said quickly. "After all, it was just an idea…and my idea, don't forget. Mine. Howlin' Mad Murdock? Remember?"

"Yeah," BA agreed, "and before Murdock goes crazy on us again, maybe we should tell you what we saw on our way here?" The sergeant nudged Hannibal, hard, which seemed to break the mood. Face looked away, not looking at any of them, and the colonel looked at BA.

"Of course, sergeant," the colonel said coldly. "What did you find?"

"Well, you saw some of those abandoned mines on the way here, right?" BA asked. When both men nodded, Murdock picked up the conversation.

"There's more than a dozen like it all over these hills up here. Most looked old and useless, like that one, but we found one that was different."

"For one thing, there were two men standing outside of it with guns," BA said.

"The Fishman brothers?" Hannibal asked.

"Not unless they both died their hair from red to black," Murdock shook his head. "No, I'm thinking these were thugs hired by the Fishmans -- outsiders. We did see the brothers not too far away, though, making plans in a small encampment they've made for themselves. Outside those two thugs, though, we didn't see tracks that there was anyone else around."

"Could you check out the mine?" Face asked.

"Yup," Murdock smiled. "I got inside while their backs were turned and got a pretty good look at what was so special. Being that we're in the southern part of the territory here, I figured it would be a copper mine…or maybe silver."

"Makes sense," Hannibal agreed.

"No," Murdock said, "It was something even better." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a tiny nugget and handed it to Face. The lieutenant glanced at it for only a second before turning large eyes on the captain.

"Gold," Murdock said. "A whole thick vein of it. Who knows how deep it runs."

"Well," Hannibal said, taking the nugget from Face, "no wonder they want these hills."

"I'd want these hills," Face agreed, his eyes unable to take themselves from the nugget.

"It belongs to the nuns, Face," Hannibal said suddenly, and Face glanced up at his eyes. Where there should have been humor was only a sort of warning.

"Yes sir, colonel; I'm aware of that," he turned away again, looking away down the hill towards the pink building in the distance.

"All righty then," Murdock said slowly, reaching out to take the nugget back. Hannibal dropped it into his hand, then crossed his arms. BA cleared his throat and lifted up his drawing to catch Hannibal's eyes. Blinking, the colonel looked at him then down at the pad.

"So what about this dam?" he asked.

"Well, I'd say we can get something up in about a week, less if we really push, and if we can get everything we need," BA said, "quickly."

Face turned around, aware that the last comment was directed at him. BA walked over and handed him the pad.

"That's what we need," he said, tapping the page. Face frowned, reading the list. The frown turned into disbelief as he started reading down the list.

"30 five to fifteen foot wide beams, five inches in depth, several dozen stakes, nails, saws, hammers, a winch, four diamond cut cornerstones, fifteen steel rods…." He turned shocked blue eyes on BA, "You have to be kidding? Where am I supposed to get all this without any money and in the middle of nowhere? Hell, the tallest tree around here is a big juniper bush! Why do you think almost all the houses around here are built of mud?"

"Hey, you always said you could get anything anywhere," Murdock insisted. "Isn't that right, big guy?"

"That's right," BA agreed.

"Oh come on," Face said, "diamond cut stones? A winch? steel rods?"

"You once found a gold gilt stage coach with velvet seats in the middle of the Badlands of South Dakota," Murdock said, crossing his arms. "Surely this can't be that hard?"

Face smiled, remembering, "Yeah, well…."

"How did you find a gold gilt stage coach with velvet seats in the middle of the Badlands, Face?" Murdock asked, honestly curious. Face just grinned at him.

"Of course," Hannibal said, "he was a lot younger then."

Face, cut short by the comment, stared at Hannibal. Then his eyes narrowed, and he ripped the paper off BA's pad with the list on it. He strode over to his white mare and, in moments, was galloping away back towards the ridge.

Hannibal smiled at the others.

Ten minutes later, they'd just started preparing what they needed for the traps, when galloping hooves caused them to look up.

Face rode back towards them, the steel cart tracks from the mine under his arm. He threw them at BA's feet.

"Fifteen steel rods, and three more for good measure," he called. Pulling out the piece of paper from his jacket pocket, he pulled out a pencil from the other and visibly crossed that off the list. "And you'll find good nails in the broken timbers in the mine. Some of those disused shoring timbers may even be strong enough to get you started with the supports. I'll be back with the rest tomorrow," he tucked the paper away and gave them a nod. Turning his horse around, he was out of sight before any of the others could say anything. BA knelt down, happily going through the steel tracks, testing their strength and smiling.

"He's amazing, you know that? The way his mind works, it's amazing," Murdock said, looking over at Hannibal. The colonel looked back at him, and read some of the underlying meaning to the statement. "What would we do without him?" the captain added, his dark brown eyes looking deep into Hannibal's blue ones.

"We have work to do, captain," the colonel said quickly, turning away.

BA glanced at Murdock, neither hiding their worry.

Chapter Nine

Face rode back the way they had come, looking for the structure he'd seen on the way to Vista City from Alexandria.

After perhaps three hours, he saw it.

A grin blossomed on his face, and he turned his mare in that direction. In moments, he was slowing her down in order to tread more carefully around broken timbers that were strewn along the ground. Blue eyes measured their depth to be about five inches.

Jumping off the horse, he let her loose to graze in the long grass as he took a more careful look at the half ruined barn.

It was blackened along one side, from fire and smoke damage obviously, and much of the roof was caved in, but it had once been an impressive barn. At least two stories high, half of its high rafters still towered over his head as he ducked inside.

The grin grew as he spotted a large, rusted winch still hanging from one of the intact beams.

Nodding, he turned and walked back outside.

The sound of someone ratcheting back a rifle spun him to his left, and his hands rose instantly into the air.

A young woman with dark hair was pointing a rifle directly at his heart. Face gave her his best smile.

Instantly, her eyes widened and the rifle end fell back by her side.

"My gosh, I'm sorry Father," she said, stuttering slightly in her embarrassment, "I thought you might be a squatter or some such. I'm so sorry!" Her cheeks were blazing now, making her very pretty.

Face's smile grew, and he reached up to adjust the collar at his throat. It's amazing how much mileage he got out of this particular disguise. He was glad he'd changed into it before coming on this particular venture.

"That's all right, miss," he said, a slight Irish lilt in his voice. "I was trespassing, wasn't I? I just happened to see this wonderful barn from the road and came by for a better look." He turned to look up at the structure, wondering how long ago it had been burnt. It looked to have been a while. As he moved, he pulled a pair of wire rim spectacles from his jacket pocket and put them on, as if to see it better.

"Oh, that," she frowned, "Not much too look at now, obviously. It was a great barn once though. Fire took it nearly three years ago now."

"Yes, I imagine it was very grand. Still is. Why haven't you fixed it, may I ask?"

"No point really," she said, shrugging. "It wasn't really practical all the way out here. My family built a much better one over closer to the river on the other side of those hills," she pointed behind her. The sun was getting fairly close to the horizon now, and the hills looked as if they'd been brushed with gold. "The grazing land's better over there too."

"So…you just left this here?" he asked.

"Not worth it to break it down. Not enough wood to build a new barn left, and there isn't anything else we'd need it for."

Face pursed his lips, digesting this information.

"Um," she walked closer to him, "May I ask…why are you out here, so far from nowhere?"

He turned to look at her again, a dimpled smile on his face. "Oh well...." he sighed, "actually that's a fairly long story." Walking over to a low beam, he sat down and looked up at her. "You see, miss, at the moment, I am a shepherd without a flock…" She looked puzzled, so he quickly explained, "a priest without a congregation." He shook his head, "And I'm afraid a priest on the verge of losing his faith." He took his glasses off and put his hand to his face.

She sat down next to him, her eyes concerned. "Losing your faith? Oh no! How can that be?"

He shook his head, "Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked honestly.

She nodded, "Yes. Absolutely."

He smiled again.

Chapter Ten

BA cringed as Murdock's off key singing reached his ears again from wherever the captain was setting his traps along the hillside. It reminded him of the noise he'd heard from a dentist's once…the sound of someone in horrible, excrutiating pain.

A noise to his left had him on his feet and reaching for his gun, staring out into the deepening gloom.

"Show yourself!" he called.

The rustling got louder, and, from behind some small juniper bushes, a young, dark haired boy emerged, probably not more than ten years old. He had his hands up, and his deep brown eyes were open very, very wide as he felt BA's stare on him.

The sergeant's face instantly broke into a smile and he took his hands away from his sides.

"Hi," he said softly.

"Ola," the boy responded warily. He lowered his hands, but kept the look of someone ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

"You must be Miguel," the sergeant said. "We were told to expect you."

Miguel nodded, "Si, senor."

"Sister Ethel also told my colonel that she's teaching you English."

Miguel nodded again, then smiled.

"You're one of the soldiers?" he asked shyly.

BA chuckled and nodded. Miguel nodded back, his expression very serious.

"Habla espanol?" the boy asked. BA nodded. Miguel smiled more brightly, then continued in Spanish: "I heard the sisters talking about you through the walls. They say you're going to rebuild the dam."

"That's right," BA answered in English as he knelt down. Miguel was now looking down at him.

"I was…I was wondering if I could help," the boy said, still talking in Spanish. "I could take messages to the sisters for you, or get you food. Anything you need…."

"That's all right, son," BA replied, "I think we've got what we need."

"Sure, but maybe you need a guide? I know these hills better than anyone. And if you need someone to spy on those Fishmans, I can do that too. They'd never know I was there."

BA's smile fell, and he shook his head, finally speaking Spanish. "Miguel, that's a very brave offer, but I think we'll be okay on our own. Plus, I think it would make both the sisters and my colonel very worried if he knew you did that. Promise me that, unless we ask you, you won't put yourself in harm's way. Will you do that?"

Miguel shrugged, then looked next to BA at what the sergeant had been burying in the mud. "What're you doing?" He asked this in English.

"Building traps," the big man replied. "To stop anyone from catching us unawares, and hopefully to scare them off."

"What are they?" Still speaking English, Miguel stepped closer, but didn't get too close. He was clearly not a stupid child.

"A lot of noise, a lot of mud, and not much else," BA replied. "You know, I've buried a good number of these around here. It might be smart if you didn't wander around up here too much."

Miguel frowned, then shrugged, "But, if you let me help you, I would know where they are and not step on them." He looked back at BA, eyebrows raised.

BA laughed again, "you're very curious, aren't you?"

Miguel nodded and fell back into Spanish, "Sister Ethel says that its my best and worst quality. She says I'll either end up very rich or very sorry because of it, probably both." He shook his head, "Not sure I really understand that."

BA sighed, "Well, I know what she means. And she's right. But I wouldn't let that stop you." He stood up, "C'mon, I'll show you around and introduce you to the others."

Miguel smiled briefly and nodded, "Sure! Let me just go get my pony." He turned and jogged back the way he had come. In moments, he returned, pulling a young paint behind him. BA grinned at the sweet looking beast.

"And maybe," the sergeant said as the boy reached his side, "since you know these hills so well, you could recommend other places for us to set some of these traps?"

Miguel grinned, and nodded vigorously. "Oh, I can show you some great places!"

Chapter Eleven

"Sounds like you've had a hell of a time, Father O'Herlihy."

Face smiled at Hugo Block, the silver-haired owner of the Block Ranch, then let the smile fall as he sighed. "I admit…it is not the easiest thing to lose so many in such a short time, and to lose my home as well. But I am determined to find the funds somehow. If I gave up, then I wouldn't be worthy to wear these clothes." He touched the priest's collar at his throat, then reached up to push his wire rim glasses further up his nose.

Hugo Block pursed his lips, while Face tried to keep his attention completely focused on him, not wishing to lose the mark he'd just spent the better part of an hour buttering up. Stella Block, Hugo's youngest daughter and the young woman who'd accosted him at the ruined barn, sat close by "Father O'Herlihy's" side and backed him up.

"And that's why you were looking at our half-burnt barn? To see if you might get ideas for a church?" Hugo asked slowly. His fingers smoothed down the long white handlebar moustache he wore as he spoke, making it difficult for the conman to read his face as easily.

"Oh yes," Face gushed. "I realized the moment I saw it that the architecture of the structure, thinking about what it stands for, it would be exactly the sort of building that would remind the people of my town why they came out here in the first place. The people are so lost now, as am I after what happened there, and I feel if I could just build something that would remind them of what it means to be a community…to be a family again…that I could rekindle their hopes as well."

His sons all grunted in amazement, while Stella gripped Face's hand in hers. Hugo leaned back in his chair, his tall body completely filling the high backed seat, and brought his hands together in front of his face as if he were thinking.

They were sitting in the main ranch house of the Block Farm, in the dining room, surrounded by the large Block family – from the owner's old mother to the fourth generation great grandchildren running around in the background. Ranch hands, including the foreman, stood inside the door, eating their dinner and shaking their heads in dismay at the story they'd just heard. The ranch was palatial, much like the lands Block owned; Face hadn't realized how rich they were until Stella had brought him here to tell his story to "the family."

"Couldn't we help him dad?" Stella asked, looking up at her father. "I mean, we're not using the barn, and the idea of that wood going to a good cause, like building a new church…."

"What?" Face looked at Stella, his eyes wide. "Oh, Miss Block, no. I could never…."

"She's right, dad," another of the Block children, a son, said. "It's just rotting out there."

Face gave a nervous laugh, and stood up, "James, thank you, but I'm not…."

"If you can use it, why not?" Another son said, then looked at his father. "I know we always planned to use it ourselves, dad, but Stella has the right of it. It should go to a good cause like this."

Face frowned, his eyes very soft. "You are all being very kind, but…."

"You say you're riding to beg for money in order to buy wood and supplies," Hugo said suddenly. "You wouldn't have to do that if I gave you the wood from our barn."

Face looked back at the ranch owner, then, nodded. "Yes. I admit, that is true. But, sir, I have no money to pay you for it. I can't just…."

"You need wood. A winch. Cornerstones. We have those. Take them."

Face swallowed, "Sir…that sort of generosity….I can't even express…." He sat back down, his expression flabbergasted.

"I told you," Stella said, nudging Face. He smiled across at her, then looked back at Hugo, his eyes serious.

"I will pay you for it," he promised. "Once I get the church going, I will ask for donations to pay you back. The people do not have much but…."

Hugo's eyes darkened, and he frowned. Part of Face wondered if he'd pushed the con too far.

"Pay me back," the rancher said. "Out of donations? How long would that take, I wonder?"

"Well," Face's eyes darted to the other faces, "I...I don't know. With the mine closings and the fires…it might take a while for the town to get back on its feet. But once I've told them of what you've done, I'm sure we could get the money by…."

"No!" Hugo held up his hand. "I will not take money from the hands of the poor! Take the wood, Father. Take it and use it in God's name. I will have no more of this. That barn and everything in it is now yours." He stood up, "My sons will strip it down and load everything onto a wagon for you tonight. I only ask that, once done, you return the wagon and the draft horses I will give you to pull it."

Face stood up as well, "Mr. Block…how can I thank you?"

"Just keep doing what you do, Father," Hugo replied, "helping those in need. That is all the thanks I require."

One of the ranch hands gave a loud whoop, and soon everyone in the room was cheering and laughing. Face grinned as Block's sons shook his hand, and Stella gave him a peck on the cheek.

Chapter Twelve

The creak of a wagon and a joyful shout caused BA, Murdock and Hannibal to look up. Face waved cheerily back at them from the driver's seat of a long wagon, on the back of which was stacked long, thick cut timber.

"Five feet to fifteen feet long timber," Face called as the wagon got closer, "a heavy loading winch, saws, stakes, bolts and not just four steel cut stones, not four heat cut stones, but four diamond cut stones, as ordered!" He grinned.

Murdock whooped and jumped forward, running to meet the wagon. BA laughed, and even Hannibal couldn't resist a shake of his head and a smile.

"Didn't believe you could do it, lieutenant!" he called.

"Oh ye of little faith!" Face replied, watching as Murdock climbed up onto the still moving wagon to check out the wood.

"How did you do it?" Murdock gushed. "Where did you find this stuff? And a wagon to boot! Are those plow horses? Four of them no less!"

"Well, how else was I going to get it here?" Face asked cheekily. "On my back? This stuff's heavy!"

"I knew he'd get it," BA said soundly. He walked over to check the wagon just as Face pulled the team hauling it to a halt at the edge of the mire. "And these horses are really going to help. You solved one of my biggest problems by bringing these."

"Well, they're only on loan, I have to return them and the wagon as soon as we're done," Face admitted.

"No matter," BA grinned. "This is great Face. I actually think we can do this now."

"Still can't believe you did it!" Murdock laughed.

"Of course I did it," Face agreed. "All it took was my usual skill, determination, hard work…."

"What was her name?" Hannibal asked.

Face opened his mouth to say there wasn't one…and found himself saying, "Stella."

Hannibal grinned and Face gave him a dark look.

"Well, we've got the supports up," BA said as he pointed to the where he planned to rebuild the dam. They'd obviously used the wood from the old mines as Face had suggested to set up a platform and overhead set of beams to hold the winch. Face paled as the idea of real labor loomed before him.

"Um…perhaps I should go and do a quick scout while you begin," he suggested. "After all, I didn't really get much sleep last night."

Hannibal's smile fell slightly, and he shook his head. "We didn't get any, lieutenant. Riding on that wagon all day, you're probably more rested than us…and in need of some exercise."

Face gave him a sneering smile.

"So," he asked, looking at Murdock and BA, "we get visited yet?"

"Yes," Murdock shrugged, "this morning. Two fish and three goons. Spouted the usual drivel about backing the wrong horse…going to work for them instead at double whatever the sisters are paying…not going through with building the dam if we know what's good for us…."

Face nodded. Yup – that was the usual. "Anything to worry about, you think?"

"Only after it's built," Hannibal answered. "I get the feeling they want the dam rebuilt as well. It'd be easier for them to siphon off the water for their water cannons."

Face frowned, "so what is the plan?"

Hannibal shrugged. "Build the dam. Stop the bad guys."

Face laughed, "Yes…but what is the plan?"

"Build the dam. Stop the bad guys," Murdock repeated from atop the wagon.

Face sighed up at him, "Yes, thank you for that clarification Murdock."

Hannibal grinned, and indicated to BA to take over.

"Okay, let's build this thing…" The sergeant said, rubbing his hands together.

Chapter Thirteen

Both Murdock and Face were up to their waists in the rushing water, the only thing stopping them from going over the falls being the thick rope harnesses holding them and their own determination. Using the horses, BA was carefully lowering the next beam into place, while the two men guided it in. Hannibal out somewhere, scouting and keeping watch.

"Sing it again," Face shouted to the captain.

"Doo dut doo…dut dut doo…." Murdock sang, his voice higher pitched them normal as he tried to make himself heard over the water. "What is that?"

"Um…in four time, uh…a quarter, eighth, dotted quarter…um…eighth, dotted quarter, half note…I think," Face yelled back. "How come you went down instead of up?"

"Huh?"

"The railroad song…it goes up after the fifth note. You're going down on the third and down again on the fifth. You're changing the notes as well as the tune!"

"I thought this sounded better!"

"Well...okay! It's your song!" Face grabbed the edge of the beam and pulled it towards him. Murdock got it from the other end. "So what happens next?"

"It gets faster! Listen, here's the beginning again….Doo dut doo…dut dut dooo…then…doo dut dut doo…doo didido doooo…."

Face laughed, "Murdock! That's great! Then what?"

"The first three notes again, then four longish ones…doo doo dut dooo…do dididi dooo…and it all repeats, but, the last time, after the four long notes do doo dut doo dooo doo dididi dooooo."

"Will you two shut up!" BA yelled. "We got work to do!"

"But BA, this is composing! I can't just shut down my muse!" Murdock shouted back.

"Well your muse is as atonal as you are!"

"Actually, BA, I think his song is…" Face began.

"Shut up Face!"

"Right!" the lieutenant agreed quickly. As he spoke, he pushed the beam into place, using his weight to hold it in place. Murdock started lashing it with ropes.

"My muse," Murdock grunted, gripping the rope in his hands and pulling, "is not atonal! She is a goddess! Goddess's aren't," he grunted and pulled again to stop the beam from slipping, "atonal!"

"That's because she's not a muse!" BA answered, using his own weight on the ropes to help them. "She's a tone-deaf demon!"

"Hey!" Murdock let up on the rope in order to glare at BA, and Face squealed as the beam rocked away from him. The captain quickly grabbed it again and the three men muscled it back into place.

"Nail it before the ropes give, Face!" BA shouted as Face tied off his lashings to set it.

The lieutenant lifted himself up onto the beam, straddling it, and grabbed the mallet hanging over head from the overhead support, quickly loosing the ropes holding it up. Then, with all his might, he brought the mallet down on the rusted steel stake sticking half out of the beam in front of him.

And missed completely; he also almost fell off.

"Damn it Face!" BA shouted, as Face shakily regained his balance and tried to figure out why he'd missed. He looked at the inch wide stake's head, and frowned. How did he miss?

Maybe it had moved?

With a stubborn look, he wound up to hit the stake again.

And missed again. This time, his momentum sent him into the river. He came up spluttering.

"Face! You're supposed to hit the stake! Not the water!"

"I know that BA!" Face shouted back, pushing his wet hair back from his face.

"Then hurry it up! Or switch places with Murdock! He may be nuts, but at least he can hammer a nail!"

Face shot him a dark look.

"Pretend it's a piano key!" Murdock shouted. "I'll sing the tune!"

Face raised his eyebrows at Murdock, but didn't disagree as he got back up on the beam and leaned back, grabbing the mallet again where it swung back and forth like a pendulum from the rope connecting it to the support. As Murdock started singing the song he'd made up, Face proceeded to bring the mallet down on the first down beat. He grinned as he hit it straight on.

"Hey, it's working!" he shouted.

"Will wonders never cease," BA muttered, but he did give a small smile.

Swinging back, Face continued to listen to Murdock's terrible singing and brought the mallet down again on the next downbeat. When Murdock finished the song, all three stakes that were sticking out of the beam were in, holding the beam in place atop the beam below it and allowing BA and Murdock to release the ropes.

"See?" Murdock crowed. "Told ya we needed a theme song!"

"You're both nuts!" BA shouted at them, walking away to get the next beam. Neither saw the grin blossom on his face as Murdock's tune whispered in his ear.

"Doo dut doo…" Face and Murdock sang together as they sloshed out of the river to help the sergeant, grinning like idiots, "dut dut dooooo…"

+ + + + + + +

Hannibal watched the Fishman's camp, his eyes watching as more men than before roamed around. The two brothers were wasting no time building up their goon force – there had to be almost ten gunslingers down there now, and he knew there were more watching the building of the dam. The small nuggets the Fishman's had found inside the cave were giving them the capital to hire these outsiders. They were all hired guns, not workers, and it was obvious that, once the Fishman's believed they had title and could start mining this place seriously, they could use their hired men to keep the town in line while they bled it dry.

The townsfolk were fools.

He'd seen several of them come by and visit with the Fishmans. He'd come to recognize them from the reconnoitering he and the others had done in town. Mr. Duval, the owner of the hardware store; Mrs. Crabapple, the brothel…sorry, saloon…owner; Mr. Cortland, the livery stable owner; others…and, of course, the sheriff – Sheriff Cotton.

The last had been the one who worried Hannibal the most. The sheriff was completely in the pocket of the two brothers. The townsfolk had all tried to hold their own, but there was no questioning the fact that the sheriff was their creature.

Whatever happened, that sheriff would have to go. The nuns wouldn't be safe unless some real law was put in place and the Fishmans were put away behind bars.

Hannibal had already toyed with the idea of letting Colonel Decker know that the team was in this area, to bring the colonel here. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee that Decker would bring order. He might just make things worse. Sometimes the colonel's single-minded purpose to bring down the team got in the way of his doing what was right.

He also considered trying to get in touch with some of the local representatives of the territory he knew, some of whom might consider getting involved. They were good men, and might be able to exert pressure on the government to send new law here.

The colonel pursed his lips.

He hated not knowing what to do.

He wished he understood why Sister Ethel had forbidden contact with Four Corners. This was not so far outside the Seven's area; Hannibal would bet money that Chris Larabee would know who could get some real law into this town.

Truth was, he'd accepted this work in part because he had secretly hoped to meet those seven men again.

Well…that and he'd enjoyed needling Face.

A smile touched his lips, and then instantly fell. The tension between the two of them was still thick. He didn't know where it had come from; why he'd gotten so angry with the younger man. Neither Sister Ethel's straight-jacketing conditions nor his inability to come up with a plan for what to do after the dam was built was Face's fault. And yet, the kid made such an easy target when Hannibal was frustrated. After all, he gave Hannibal every excuse to blow up at him….

"Damn," he muttered. At some point he knew they would both have to swallow their pride and apologize.

But damned if he was going to apologize first. The kid should have shut up when he told him to.

Why hadn't Face just followed orders?

His eyes narrowed and he broke from his reverie to return to his watch on the camp below.

+ + + + + + +

Sheriff Cotton frowned, thinking over what the Fishman brothers had told him about the four men building the dam…that they'd looked familiar. Three of them had come into town last night -- the sandy haired gambler type had gone to the saloon, the big one to the hardware store and then the blacksmith's, and the older one to the restaurant…where'd he sweet talked Mabel Cartman, the restaurant's owner…and the sheriff's girl.

Cotton grimaced. He'd wanted to tear the gray haired one apart last night for talking to Mabel, but the Fishmans wanted them four to finish the dam first. But if that man made one more pass at his girl….

He frowned. Truth was, he too thought he recognized the name the gray haired one had used when it town last time: Hannibal. It was an unusual name to begin with, probably a nickname, but, coupled with the way the gray haired man talked to his troops…

Troops? Did he just think they were troops? Why did he think that?

The sheriff was a soldier once, part of the union army before retiring. He nodded. That was it. Those men weren't just working together -- they were a unit. Like soldiers with their commanding officer….

He stood up like a shot, a smile growing on his face. Turning, he ran to the filing cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. The wanted posters were stacked up high in there, and he went through them very quickly.

Suddenly, his rifling stopped, and, slowly, he withdrew a single poster.

"Well, well, Colonel Hannibal Smith…," Cotton grinned, "I knew I knew you."

PART IV

Chapter Fourteen

"Ha!" Face stepped back, rubbing his hands together proudly, "one dam, built to perfection!" He stepped back to the edge of the newly formed pond, still sort of amazed at what they had done.

"Well, as perfect as you can build a dam in five days with just three men working at a time," BA grumbled, surveying their creation. It was sufficient, but there were also very obvious flaws, such as the lack of truly tough steel rods. The cart tracks worked where they helped to shore up the interlocking beams, but they wouldn't last long. They also had no tar to keep the wood from leaking or warping, as it would eventually do. "This thing's about as sturdy as Murdock."

"Hey, I resent that remark," the man in question called, wagging his finger at the sergeant. "I'll have you know that, barring a particularly moving operatic aria, I can withstand any mental pressure you can exert!"

"Oh yeah?" BA stared at the captain, his eyes narrowing, "You're singing would scar the eardrums of children."

Murdock's face crumpled instantly, "Take that back!"

"Only a cat screeching on a fence could appreciate it!"

"Hey!"

"Face it, Fool, you're more tone deaf than Helen Keller!"

Murdock covered up his face, making tiny whimpering noises. Face threw his arm around him, telling him that it wasn't true, but he was having no effect. BA frowned, especially when Face turned a glare on him.

"Sergeant," Hannibal sighed, his voice quiet.

BA gritted his teeth, about to argue with the colonel, when Murdock gave a particularly pathetic whimper. Sucking in a great deal of air, BA let it out slowly, then approached Murdock.

"Okay, so...maybe you're not as bad as all that," he muttered weakly.

Murdock instantly stopped crying, turning bright, huge eyes on his friend and smiling brightly.

"I knew it! I knew you were lying! I could just tell by that cute little dimple you get in your forehead...right...here!" he poked BA's head hard with his forefinger, and the sergeant exploded. Murdock dodged behind and around Face, who stood like a pillar as BA chased the captain round and round in circles.

Face just started laughing.

"Okay, okay!" Hannibal yelled, "Enough! We don't have time for this!"

BA had just grabbed the collar Murdock's leather coat when Hannibal yelled. Growling, he let it go, and the captain gasped as he got his air back. Face patted his shoulder.

"I think it's a great song, Murdock," he said, still laughing.

"Face! I said enough!"

The lieutenant looked up, surprised. Then his jaw tensed. Next to him, Murdock rolled his eyes. He was getting a little tired of this. Four days of snide remarks, avoided looks, angry glares….it made his and BA's relationship look easy.

"Now, we know that the Fishmans obviously had no problem with us building this dam, but now it's done…I expect we'll be getting a visit very soon,"

"Someone should tell the nuns we're done," Face said perfunctorily. Hannibal nodded at him.

"Go. Then get back here as quickly as you can. I don't imagine we have much time."

Face nodded, jogged over to his mare and was quickly riding down the hillside.

"Now, gentlemen, we have work to do." Hannibal walked back to the wagon Face had appropriated and picked out three rifles stacked in back. "As I see it, the Fishmans will try to kill us quickly, which explains why they've been building up their contingent of bullies. If I were them, I'd figure that, once we're dead, they can happily go and tell the nuns what they've done. It would be more than enough to convince the sisters to leave. Obviously, we're not going to let that happen. As I see it, now that we've finished the dam, we no longer work for the sisters…thus, their contract with us…with its conditions, is at an end." He tossed rifles to BA and Murdock. "We have a plan to make." BA and Murdock nodded, and huddled closer to hear the colonel's ideas.

Perhaps five minutes later, they heard hooves galloping towards them from the direction of the town. They quickly spanned themselves into defensive positions.

"BA! BA! BA!" Miguel rode in hard, jumping over a log and pulling his paint to a sharp halt. Jumping off the pony's back, he was running and in front of the sergeant before BA had a chance to hang his rifle back over his shoulder. "They're going to burn down the convent! You have to stop them!"

"What?" Hannibal joined them, while Murdock jogged over to look over the ridge to the plain below.

"The townsfolk! Even Mr. Flax! They've gone with torches and sticks…they say they're going to demand that the sisters leave! BA, you have to stop them!"

"He's right, colonel. I can see a mob forming down there." Murdock called.

Hannibal strode over to join Murdock, his eyes dark as he saw the people walking down the road to the convent. His frown deepened as he saw a single rider on a white horse streaking towards them along the dry edge of the mire heading for the front door. Face had seen them too.

"They had this planned all along," Hannibal hissed. "Damn it! No wonder so many of the townspeople visited the Fishmans' camp. I thought the brothers were just buying them…I didn't know they were inciting them as well." He slung his rifle over his shoulder and rested a hand on Murdock's shoulder. "Captain, stay here with Miguel and guard the dam. I'm not sure it needs it, but just in case. Sergeant!" Hannibal strode quickly back to BA and the young boy, "Let's get down there."

"Yes sir!" BA patted Miguel on the head, then followed Hannibal to the horses.

Murdock frowned, watching as the two men headed quickly down the hillside towards the convent. Miguel sighed and sat down on the ground. The captain joined him, and smiled.

"It'll be all right," he promised. Miguel shook his head.

"I don't get why they hate the sisters so much. They've done nothin' but help the people in Vista City, like they did me an' my sister."

Murdock knelt down next to him, "I know. People just get lost sometimes." He frowned, looking around their small camp, then smiled. "Hey," he said brightly, "want to help me out?"

Miguel looked up, his eyes wet. Murdock stood up.

"We stored some things in that old mine nearby, in a box with a red brand on the side. Think you can get it for me?"

Miguel frowned, "you just trying to get rid of me?"

"Rid of you? Why would I want to do that? You're my only company now. A singer needs an audience, don't you know."

A wry look crossed the boy's face, but he sighed and nodded. "Okay, but I won't be gone long." Standing, he walked over to his paint and mounted. Clicking his tongue, he soon had the pony moving away towards the old mine.

Murdock continued to smile until the boy was out of sight. Then it fell and he looked around at the area around them.

"I'm impressed," he called out. "You missed all the traps."

"All we had to do was follow the boy," a voice called back. Murdock's jaw clenched as he watched six men appear out from behind nowhere. "He led us past all of them."

"You'll leave him out of this, won't you," Murdock said, trying to judge from their appearances which of them had spoken. He guessed it was the tallest. He was right.

"Of course…it's not the boy we want," the tall man replied. He was one of the Fishman brother's newly hired guns. "But we might change our mind should you decide not to try and make trouble for us."

Murdock pursed his lips, but nodded, raising his hands as they got closer.

Chapter Fifteen

"What's going on here!" Face jumped off his mare's back, letting her loose as he ran to stand in front of Sister Ethel and Sister Frances on the front steps of the convent. Antonia hovered behind them in the darkened interior, her hands pressed together as if in prayer.

"Are you all crazy?!" Face yelled, looking out at the mob of townsfolk. They stared back, torches still waving. Ethel held the shaking Frances in her arms, worried eyes looking at Face's back as he held up his arms in an attempt to calm the mob. The three nuns had been arguing with the people, but it had done nothing to turn them…now she just hoped the young lieutenant didn't make it worse…if it could get worse.

"Who're you!" someone yelled back at the lieutenant.

"Who am I? Who are you that you would burn down a convent! A place of God!"

"He's a gambler," a woman yelled. "Just a drifter. You have no place here, boy!"

"Neither do you!" Face chastised. "Why are you here…and like this! A mob? Threatening nuns?"

"We want them gone!" yelled a voice from the back, and Face tried to pinpoint who it was.

"Gone? Why?"

"They's holding up progress! Keeping us poor!"

"Poor?" Face's voice rose in amazement. "They are keeping you poor? How can you say that!"

"They're nothing but trouble!" another voice yelled.

"You can't be serious!" Face yelled back, "This is a house of God! Of peace! Of Truth! You would burn down a structure whose only purpose is to celebrate and worship everything that is good and holy? And you say it is because they cause you trouble? Because they keep you poor? How dare you! How DARE you!" The lieutenant stepped back on the step, to stand a little taller over the crowd so that they could all see his face as he spoke. "I have been here only a few days, but from what I have learned from these women and this town, they have done nothing but try and help you!"

"That's a lie!"

"Is it?" Face shook his head. "They founded this convent long before you got here, and, though they own title to all this land, I have never heard anyone mention that they pay the sisters rent."

"Well…yeah but…."

"But nothing! And they have taken up collections for your poor, to help those in need. I have it from a good source, for example, that the only reason you have a jail is because the sisters had it built. And when your saloon burned down, who found the money to help you rebuild it? And when…."

"You don't know nothing mister!" The hardware store owner, Mr. Duval, stood in front, his arms crossed. "A few buildings? A few people here and there? They won't let the mines reopen! The town's dying, and they won't give us the means to bring it back to life!"

"The mines? You think the Fishmans are the answer to your problems? Those men don't care about you!" Face insisted. "If that mine becomes profitable, what makes you think any of you will ever see any of that money?"

A murmuring had grown in the crowd, and it was getting louder.

"The Fishmans blew the dam over the plain!" Face continued. "You think men who would risk the lives of the sisters can be trusted? Sister Christina nearly drowned in the stores beneath the convent for their greed! How can men willing to kill a nun be good for you?!"

"Drowned?" someone said – Mr. Flax, the grocer. "One of the sisters nearly drowned?"

"She is still bedridden," Ethel said, finding her voice at last. "We do not know if she will recover."

"And now you would burn them from their homes?" Face chastised. "With one of them so ill? Where do you expect them to go?"

"We don't want ‘em harmed…we just want them gone from here," said one of the first voices to yell. Face identified it as Mrs. Crabapple, owner of the saloon. She seemed less certain now, her voice shaking slightly.

"Again, why!" Face replied. "If you want those mines reopened, work with the sisters. All they want is to help you, and they're more than willing to see those mines working again. Don't let the Fishmans…."

"Don't listen to this man!" a voice yelled from afar. "Don't let him say another word!"

Face looked up the road towards town, and his eyes narrowed as he saw Sheriff Cotton riding down towards the back of the road.

"He's a con artist! A cheat! And he's wanted by our own United States army!" The sheriff flashed a piece of paper in his hand…a wanted poster. The crowd's murmuring was very loud now. Some had started shouting again, but some stood confused.

"No, listen! Who I am doesn't matter!" Face shouted back, focusing on those he saw wavering. "Even if I am who he says I am, I have no part in this. This is not my house you're about to burn! It's theirs!" He indicated the women behind him. "Please, think about what you're about to do! Who you are…."

"I said don't listen to him!" the sheriff shouted. "Templeton Peck, you're under arrest!"

"These women are your friends; they have done nothing to you but try and help you! And you repay them by worshiping the golden calf!"

"Stop talking Peck!" The sheriff pulled back the hammer on his rifle and raised it to point at Face. The lieutenant's eyes steeled, focused on the sheriff now in a challenging gaze.

"No! These people deserve to know the truth about that mine." He looked at the crowd, "I only ask that you hear the sister's story before…."

The gunshot did not come from the sheriff's rifle, and even the lawman looked shocked as Face staggered back and tripped on the steps at the sister's feet, a hand to his abdomen. The blood spatter on his silver waistcoat stood out starkly, and silence captured the crowd.

The sheriff finally saw Andrew Fishman riding slowly towards them, his pistol still smoking. The red-headed man blew across the barrel mouth then put the gun away and smiled at the Sheriff.

"What are you doing!" Sheriff Cotton shouted at him. Andy looked surprised.

"You said this man was a fugitive, Sheriff. A criminal. I was aiding in his capture."

"You shot him!" the sheriff said.

"Yes, of course," Andy shrugged. "Isn't that what you do with dangerous men? And I won't even fight with you for the reward. You can have it yourself, Sheriff. Give it to the town."

People started yelling all of a sudden, confused and scared. Sister Ethel was shouting back into the convent for bandages and help, while Sister Frances recovered enough to try and help Face, who was now lying back on the steps, still trying to come to grips with having been shot.

"I…I didn't see him…I should have seen him…." The lieutenant gasped up at her. She smiled at him with what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she ripped some of the shift she wore beneath her habit to press against the wound.

Sheriff Cotton stared angrily at Fishman, then yelled at the crowd to go home. When some tried to talk back, he just waved his rifle around and shouted louder. Andy Fishman smiled, watching this from the side, leaning over his saddlehorn.

The townsfolk were soon grumbling but climbing up the hill away from the convent, back towards their homes, until it was just the sheriff and Andy Fishman left. Still looking furious, the sheriff rode up to the front of the convent and glared at Ethel.

"You brought this on yourself, Ethel. Perhaps this man's death will bring you to your senses. Get out of here before anything worse happens." Wrenching back hard on the reins, the sheriff turned around, stared at Andy Fishman for another moment, then turned his horse back towards town and rode away.

Sister Ethel watched him leave, then turned to Andy Fishman. "Get out of here!" she shouted at him.

He smiled, tipped his hat at her and turned to ride away. He stopped after a few feet and crossed his arms, obviously watching someone approaching from somewhere other than town. Sister Ethel grimaced and looked in the same direction as him.

Hannibal and BA rode right past Fishman and into the courtyard.

"Face!" Hannibal was off his horse and running towards his lieutenant. Face just blinked up at him; he was beginning to shiver.

"I…didn't see him…so…so stupid," the lieutenant whispered. "S…sorry, colonel…."

"You've nothing to be sorry for," Hannibal pressed a hand to Face's head, "don't worry. You'll be all right."

"They…they were going to burn it down…I was trying…."

"I know, son, I know," Hannibal smiled at him, then looked at Sister Ethel. "A bed, blankets, and some boiled water. I'll also need a clean knife, boiled in water, bandages and, if you have it, some alcohol."

"Yes, yes," she said, "of course." She stood up and hustled inside the convent to get things ready. Frances watched her go, her eyes looking as if they yearned to follow the mother superior, but she kept her hands pressed against Face's wound, while the conman closed his eyes and grunted at the pain she was necessarily causing him.

Suddenly, Face chuckled, and Hannibal looked back down at him, the worry growing as he noted Face was now looking at him with a strange smile on his face.

"They…wanted me…to stop….talking….too… It's f…funny isn't it….Just…like…you….I guess…I should…have learned…to shut up…." Face's eyes drifted as he spoke, until they were looking up at the soft clouds drifting across the azure sky. A beautiful sky.

"No, son, no, not like me," Hannibal said, almost pleading. "I was wrong…Face…c'mon son, keep talking, keep talking…."

But Face was done talking.

Hannibal's teeth gritted as he realized the conman's eyes were now staring straight up, fixed on they sky, no longer seeing anything. He pressed a hand to the side of the lieutenant's neck, just to make sure he hadn't lost him. Frances kept her head down, but her lips were trembling now uncontrollably.

BA, meanwhile, was holding a gun on Andy Fishman, as if daring him to move, purposefully not looking at Face. He didn't want to know. The red haired man smiled back at the sergeant, his arms still crossed where he sat astride his horse. Hannibal looked up at them both, his eyes like granite.

"BA…get him off that horse and tie him up," he ordered. BA smiled, but Andy Fishman clicked his tongue and looked at Hannibal.

"Oh, I don't think so," he said. "See, you left your man…Murdock, right?...alone up on that hill, guarding the dam alone. I'm afraid, unless he's very quick, he should be in the hands of my men by now."

Hannibal's frown deepened, while BA sent a worried glance at his colonel.

"Here's the deal, Colonel Smith. The nuns here have four days…until Sunday…to pack up everything and get the hell out of here. That should be enough time for your man there, should he survive, to recover enough to travel. And, as soon as they sign this land over to me, I will release your other man. Then you all leave and never come this way again. And, just to make myself clear on that point, as soon as the sisters vacate this building, I will burn it down. If they do try and return, they will find nothing to come home to."

Hannibal stood up and faced him, "How do I know you're not bluffing about Murdock?"

At that very same moment, a handful of rifle shots echoed across the plain from far away. Andy Fishman smiled back at Hannibal.

"That was the signal," he grinned. "Don't worry; they have orders not to hurt him."

Hannibal's jaw steeled, and he turned to BA. The sergeant's eyes were soft, worried about Face and scared for Murdock at the same time.

"Let him go, sergeant." Hannibal looked back at Andy, "Four days, Fishman. But if there is a single mark on Murdock when we get him back…."

"I will bear that in mind, colonel. See you in four days," the red head tipped his hat, nodded at BA, who had lowered his gun, and made ready to leave. Then, as if changing his mind, he looked back at the twisted features of the conman, clicking his tongue. "And if your conman doesn't survive…tell him to wish Saint Peter all my best." Smirking again at Hannibal, who's face had darkened in barely contained rage at that remark, he kicked his horse into a quick trot and was soon out of sight.

Ethel returned, keeping her voice soft as she saw the anger rippling off the sergeant and the colonel. "I have everything ready," she said. "Bring him inside."

Chapter Sixteen

Hannibal was efficient. Years of being a soldier taught him well. As fast as he could, he removed the bullet and, after cleaning the wound, covered it with a bandage. Face was unconscious for most of this, having passed out as soon as Hannibal cut him. BA and Ethel were the only ones in there with him, and nary a word was spoken for almost the entire procedure.

Frances was ordered to sit with him while the three exhausted people walked into the kitchen. Antonia and two other nuns were making dinner, their faces tight with worry. They served the two men, then went away to serve the rest of the nuns in the dining room.

After eating, Hannibal went back into Face's room and shut the door. BA stood outside it for a while, his eyes closed. Finally, he sank to the stone floor of the hallway and put his head in his arms.

A soft step next to him caused him to look up, and he was surprised to see a silver haired woman in a long, woven cloak staring down at him. She clearly wasn't a nun, and there was something very strange about her.

She looked at him curiously, then smiled. Kneeling down next to him, she touched his thickly corded arm, then brushed at his face, her fingers touching where a tear had just fallen. He jerked away from her touch, then tried to wipe the dried tears from his face, embarrassed.

"It's okay," she said to him. "It's okay. Josiah will come and help. He will come and help."

"Josiah?" BA asked.

"Josiah," she repeated. "He will come. He will know. He promised to come."

"Hannah?" a voice called. Hannah's head snapped up, and she stood up quickly. Ethel was standing at the other end of the hallway. The mother superior looked surprised. "Hannah…I thought you were in your room?"

"This is a good man," Hannah said. "He needed help." The ill woman leaned over and patted BA's arm again. "I have to go now." And, just like that, she was walking away.

Ethel blinked, amazed, then looked down at BA.

"How…how did you do that?" she asked.

The sergeant looked confused, "do what?"

"She…you're the first man other than her brother Josiah that she has ever allowed near her."

BA frowned, then looked after the woman. He shrugged, "She came to me, sister."

Ethel thought about this for a while, then shook her head, unable to explain what had just happened. Instead, she looked to the door behind which Hannibal and Face were.

"How is the lieutenant?"

BA shook his head. "He…he's not doing so well," he replied. "Between the blood loss, the surgery and the damage…even if he doesn't develop an infection, it doesn't look good."

Ethel sighed, "do you need anything?"

BA shook his head. Ethel smiled at him, and turned to walk away.

"Sister?"

"Yes?" she stopped and turned around.

"Who is Josiah?"

She shrugged, "Josiah Sanchez. He lives in Four Corners. He is her brother. He's the reason why I didn't want you to go there for help. We promised him that we would keep her a secret."

BA stared at her, then stood up quickly. It was such an abrupt motion, that Ethel actually jumped back. He frowned at her, then turned and opened the door into the room.

Hannibal was packing a saddlebag as BA shoved his way in, while Frances sat in the corner watching them both. Face was asleep and entirely hidden beneath a blanket except for his head. His skin looked pale and flushed where he lay.

"Colonel, their Hannah is Josiah Sanchez's sister," BA said abruptly.

"I know," the colonel said. "I heard."

"Then…."

Hannibal cut him off with a wave. "Where did you put the horses?"

BA frowned, "Still tethered out front."

"Bring all three round back, and saddle my bay. Make sure no one sees you."

BA actually gave a small smile, "You're going to them for help."

"Help?" Frances stood up, "Now? But I thought we were going to leave."

"Yes," Ethel had come in behind BA. "That's right. I won't have any more violence."

"No," Hannibal looked at them both, "you can leave, mother, but I'm not letting those men get away with this."

"No!" Ethel walked into the room, "I won't allow it. We will do as they ask."

"Can't do that," Hannibal said.

"Listen, I'm sorry about your lieutenant, but I can't let you commit violence for us…."

"I'm not doing this for you," the colonel said. He finished packing the saddlebag, and pulled the strap shut, turning his sharp blue eyes on her. "We built your dam. Our work for you is done. This is for us now, and for the idiots in your town, though they don't know it yet." He looked at BA. "Track Murdock, make sure he's okay. If he's not, get him out of there and get the hell away." He threw the bag over his shoulder, and arched an eyebrow at her.

"What about Face?" BA asked.

Hannibal frowned, and shook his head, "I hate leaving him here alone, but I don't see as we have a choice. If Murdock is all right, get back here and protect him and the sisters. I will be back with help as soon as I can."

"Wait…where are you going?" Ethel demanded.

"Four Corners."

"No!" she hissed.

"I didn't make your promise, Sister. I'm sorry, but I have two of my men's lives at stake here. I'll take responsibility."

"But…!"

"Too late. As I said, this isn't up to you anymore."

"I…we won't help you," she said firmly. "We will leave here in four days, just as we said we would."

Hannibal gave her a small smile, then looked at BA.

"No one's gonna touch ‘em," the sergeant promised.

"Thank you, BA."

"I'll get the horses." BA looked at Ethel, nodded at her, and walked out. Ethel frowned, still upset.

"Um," Frances stood up hurriedly, "Mother, I think maybe we should get another blanket for the young man." She walked over to Sister Ethel, who frowned at her.

"You need my help to…?"

"Yes mother," Frances said, a steel tone entering her voice. It was such a surprising sound, Ethel actually stopped talking. Without another word, she let Frances take her arm and lead her out of the room.

Hannibal smiled at their disappearance, grateful to the astute Sister Frances. With a sigh, he turned to look at Face. Walking over to the bed, he stared down at his lieutenant.

"What a mess, huh," he muttered. "I hate it when you're right, lieutenant, but you were right. I understand now what you were trying to tell me. I underestimated the enemy this time. I underestimated them…and you're paying for it."

Slowly, he took the bag off his shoulder and sat in the chair Frances had vacated. His hand shaking slightly, he reached out a hand and brushed Face's thick hair back from his face.

"I don't know if you can hear me, kid, but…I'm sorry. About everything. I didn't mean…I never meant…." He frowned, trailing off, and his hand came to rest on Face's hot forehead. He shut his eyes and sent a silent prayer up to whoever might be listening to watch over him. When he opened them again, Face still hadn't moved. He lifted his hand away, and smiled.

"We can't do this without you, Face. You know that. I need you to question my orders, to question me. I realize you're the only who does – Murdock and BA, smart as they are, would never even think to – and I need you to keep doing it. I was wrong to say…to tell you that you'd probably be in jail without us. I'd probably be dead without you to keep me grounded. Stay with me, kid…please."

He let his hand brush the younger man's thick hair one more time, then stood up. Throwing the saddlebag over his shoulder again, he looked for a sign that Face had heard him. When nothing happened, the thought that Face may never move again suddenly hit him, nearly choking him.

Furious with himself for the sudden lack of control, he looked up and blinked furiously to dry the unwanted tears in his eyes, swearing under his breath. Once he felt calm again, he glanced behind him, to make sure no one was watching, then leaned over and quickly pressed his forehead to Face's forehead, as if he could will his strength to the other man. As he stood up again, his eyes were shining. "You will not leave me son, you will not leave me!" he hissed sharply, almost angrily, before he turned away.

"And that's an order, lieutenant," he stated, just before walking out the door.

Chapter Seventeen

Sister Anastasia leaned up against the side of the brothel, trying hard not to imagine what was going on inside. Instead, she inched her way forward, flinching every time someone crossed in front of the alleyway. Twice she had to remind herself to start breathing again.

She was not an unattractive woman, though there was something very pointed about her face. Nothing about it stuck out, but if you had to describe it, the word "pinched" would probably come to mind, as if she was constantly tensing all her muscles.

Eventually, she made it to the edge of the building and, after several harsh words to herself, she managed to peer around the corner.

She grimaced at the sight of all those men hanging out in front of the brothel, and the intensity of conviction that had caused her to take her vows gave her courage. She stepped out onto the boardwalk and looked at them, crossing her arms.

"Gentlemen," she greeted.

Immediately, the men stopped talking and laughing, turning wide eyes upon the nun. Instantly, half blushed and started walking away, embarrassed, while the remainder merely looked puzzled.

"Are any of you Andrew Fishman?" she asked, peering at each of them. She knew he had red hair, but, it being night and with all of them wearing low hats, she couldn't make out any color. Truth be told, they all looked the same to her. If asked later, she probably wouldn't have been able to pick a single one of them out.

One man who had been sitting on a chair stood up. He smiled at her. "Why are you looking for him?"

"I have information for him. Information I am willing to part with upon a promise from him to commit no more violence against my sisters." She lifted her chin.

The same man smiled, and gave her a nod. "Well then, sister, you have found him."

She nodded, figuring as much, and her nerves caused her eye to twitch.

"Do I have your promise?" she asked. His smile grew, and he gave another nod.

"Of course."

+ + + + + + +

Sister Anastasia was halfway down the street, still sticking to shadows as she half jogged, half ran back to the safety of the convent. Andy watched her go, and amused glint in his eye.

"You going to keep your promise not to harm the nuns?" Jeb asked, curious. He still didn't like the idea of hurting them.

Andy sighed, "Yes, Jeb, I will keep that promise, which is the same one I made to you. I never planned to hurt them, as you know, unless I absolutely had to." He glanced askance at his brother, "Of course…you do know we can not let Hannibal Smith or anyone he may find to help him live, right? The nuns may be harmless, but that man and his team are not."

Jeb shrugged, "I reckoned as much." He sighed, then scratched at his beard. "But we keep that Murdock alive until the swap, right?"

"Of course, and without a mark on him, as promised," Andy replied, smiling again, happy to know that his brother understood. "Live bait is always much more effective." He turned around and clapped his hands together, rubbing them together vigorously. "Now, let's see if we can't get the people in this town to finally earn their keep."

PART IV

Chapter Eighteen

Night in Four Corners….

Vin stood up from where he'd been sitting in front of the hotel and walked down the boardwalk towards the jail. He sipped casually from the cup of coffee in his hand and watched as the gray haired man rode into town. He knew him. Even now, at nearly midnight and only a half moon visible to brighten the landscape, he knew exactly who it was.

As if responding to a silent call, Ezra pushed out of the still brightly lit saloon and stepped forward to lean against a post, his eyes also drawn down the street. He crossed his arms and a tiny smile crossed his features.

Vin saw him out of the corner of his eye, gave him a nod, and returned his gaze to the newcomer.

Hannibal's horse was nearly spent, inching along the last few feet to the front of the jail. The colonel himself was completely exhausted, half his mind back with his men, the other just trying to stay awake.

Ezra glanced left and right, then stepped off the boardwalk to walk across and join Vin in front of the jail.

"Hello Colonel," Vin greeted as Ezra joined him. Hannibal had drawn to a stop in front of them, and nodded tiredly at the two men.

"Good to see you," Ezra added.

"Tanner. Standish. Good to see you as well."

Vin nodded back, while Ezra smiled brightly. Hannibal had to resist the urge to smile back, which was easy to do when the thought made him think of Face. Ezra's eyes narrowed slightly, and the colonel suddenly felt very exposed, as if he'd just said his thoughts out loud. The gambler opened his mouth to say something when, just then, the door to the jail behind them opened, and the one Hannibal hoped most to see walked out. He straightened in the saddle, his pride the only think stopping him from falling over, and nodded to the black-clad gunslinger.

"Any reason I shouldn't arrest you right now?" Chris asked, tilting his head.

Hannibal gave a nod, "Face has been shot…and I came here because I need your help."

Ezra and Vin looked at Chris, who sighed. The gunslinger's threat had been empty, they all knew it. The colonel's response was more that good enough.

Hannibal smiled, then became serious again, "And I need to talk to Josiah Sanchez about Hannah."

Ezra's lips parted, while Vin nearly dropped his cup. Chris just frowned.

"Who is Hannah?" the gunslinger asked. Vin glanced back at his best friend guiltily, then at Ezra. Knowledge burned in the green eyes of the gambler, so he knew he had no worries there.

"I'll go get Josiah," the tracker said. "Ez, will you fetch the others?"

Ezra nodded and jogged off to find Buck, JD and Nathan. Vin started walking towards the church. That left Chris with Hannibal.

The gunslinger stood hipshot, a frown on his face, "Now, colonel, what's going on?"

Chapter Nineteen

Hannibal got maybe four hours of sleep before he was up again, saddling a fresh horse so that his own bay could run alongside without a rider.

Josiah was like a man possessed, his anxiety barely contained. He glared at the colonel as if any harm that might come to his sister was Hannibal's fault. It also meant that his secret was now known to all Seven…which actually didn't bother him that much. He should have known none of them would look at him differently. Ezra and Vin both rode very close to the older man.

Chris rode up front with Buck, waiting as the colonel swung himself up onto his horse. JD and Nathan took rear.

Mary jogged over from the telegraph office, a shawl tight around her shoulders in the early morning gloom.

"Anything yet from the judge?" Chris asked her. She shook her head, then smiled.

"But it won't take him long," she promised. "The new governor is a good man."

"It's no longer Governor Hopewell?" Hannibal asked her. She smiled more brightly, and shook her head. Hannibal nodded.

"Ready?" Chris asked Hannibal. The colonel gave a short nod.

"Then let's ride," Chris called, kicking Solon into a gallop. Seven men rode on his heels, and Hannibal smiled as he found himself surrounded by men as connected to each other as his team was to him.

+ + + + + + +

Murdock squirmed in his bonds, aware that they were not so tight that he couldn't get out of them. He was also propped up against the outside wall of the mine, and the rock was more than coarse enough to break through the ropes with a bit of work. But something had to have happened to the others to prevent them from returning to rescue him yesterday, and he didn't want to try and escape and possibly make whatever that was worse.

The gunshot he'd heard echo up from the convent as Fishman's men were leading him away hadn't gone unnoticed. He hoped it was one of them firing into the air to calm the crowd.

He had to believe that, or he'd go crazy. Instead, he focused on what he did know.

He knew that the Fishmans had hired twenty-one gunslingers, the bulk of whom had hung around the camp here next to the mine last night, biding their time. Some of the nastier ones had looked over at him occasionally, as if contemplating having some "fun" with the captain, but their orders obviously prevented them.

That was interesting, actually. He'd seen the younger Fishman brother, Jeb, chastising one of the gunslingers after no one brought him any food this morning, the first morning after he'd been captured. They seemed interested in keeping him not only alive, but unharmed.

This morning, though, most of them had gone somewhere, leaving only ten at the camp – that bothered Murdock. The two brothers were also not here, both having ridden in the direction of town this morning. They wore their best clothes to do so, as if trying to portray businessmen, though the fact that five of the hired gunslingers went with them showed they were not also above using intimidation in their dealings.

They'd put Vista City under their thumbs, and rule like kings if they succeeded. This town would be an example of the worst that the West could be.

He frowned. Then frowned even more when a stone hit the top of his hat, hitting the brim of his plainsman and bringing it down. Shaking his head, he used the stone wall behind to lift the hat back into position.

Another rock hit his hat, this time with more force.

Oh, he thought stupidly. Looking around, he used the rock face to readjust his hat again and also made sure none of the remaining hired guns were watching him. Twisting, he looked upwards, to the top of the rock face about fifteen up.

BA grinned wickedly down at him where he was hidden behind a bush on a ledge, and dropped another stone. Murdock dodged it just in time.

Jerk.

Glancing around again to make sure no one saw, he twisted again and looked up.

"You okay?" BA mouthed.

Murdock gave a short nod.

BA gave a small smile, looked out over the camp, then asked, "How many?"

"Twenty-one," Murdock mouthed back. BA looked confused, so Murdock leaned forward to reveal his hands. He flashed ten fingers twice, then one. BA nodded.

Murdock mouthed, "Rescue?"

BA frowned, figured out the word, and shook his head.

The captain nodded once again, then mouthed "Escape?"

BA frowned more deeply, "By yourself? Without help?"

Murdock nodded.

BA appeared to consider this, then shook his head.

"Stay. For now. Help is coming."

Murdock nodded, then frowned. "Who is hurt?"

BA was amazed at the question. Murdock scared him sometimes. How did he know? ….Probably because he hasn't been rescued yet, BA realized, and the fact that they wouldn't have sought help unless one of them was hurt.

Plus, he had to have heard that shot.

Eventually, the sergeant nodded. "Face," he mouthed.

Murdock's jaw tensed, and he looked down. When he looked back up at the rock face, BA was gone. He leaned back against the rock and swore to cause great harm to whoever had hurt the conman.

At that moment, Andy Fishman rode back into camp. Murdock's eyes caught the red-haired man's brown ones and the brother frowned as a shiver of fear ran down his back. Murdock lowered his head, hiding his face beneath the brim of his hat, but those eyes and what they promised were now deeply set in the Andy's mind.

"Double-check his bonds," Andy yelled abruptly, "now! I want them tight!"

Chapter Twenty

It was not Miguel, but his sister Donata who sat waiting by the side of the road, watching for the men she knew were coming. She was a lovely girl, with long dark hair pulled up into a loose bun and large brown eyes aged well beyond her nineteen years. A dark chestnut gelding, whom she had borrowed, ate the grass behind her while she hummed a song to herself.

The ground shook slightly, and she stopped humming, looking northward.

A dust cloud appeared on the horizon, and she stood up. A moment later, the sound of hooves floated over the wind, and she crossed her arms and stepped further into the road. Her horse looked up, also interested in what was coming. He snorted, looking to the girl to see if she was worried. Her lack of any sort of movement other than an impatient tapping of her foot indicated otherwise, so he went back to eating the grass.

As the men became visible, she released her arms and imperiously raised a hand to stop them.

Chris couldn't resist and amused glance at Vin, but raised his own hand to slow them down to approach her carefully…just in case.

She smiled.

"I am Donata," she said in a clipped Spanish accent, looking at them. Her eyes lingered a little while on JD, then moved on until they fixed on Josiah and Hannibal, the only two with silver hair. "Which of you is Hannibal?"

The colonel flexed an eyebrow, then raised his hand. "That'd be me."

"I'm Miguel's sister. He knows they're following him, so he asked me to deliver a message. Took your time getting here, by the way." She frowned, crossing her arms again.

"My apologies, I think," Hannibal said, not knowing what else to respond to such a remark. She waved it away and spoke again.

"I'm to tell you that your Sergeant Baracus is with the sisters, and that no one has attacked them since you left. They're also apparently nearly packed, and hope to leave early, to show their acquiescence to the brothers' demands, though they are apparently having difficulty with the one called Hannah. Um," she paused, frowning as she tried to recall what else she needed to say. If she noticed Josiah's flinch at the name of his sister, she didn't show it. "Oh, yes. Captain Murdock is at the Fishmans' camp, and he's fine, for now. He told BA that they have eighteen hired guns, most of whom left the camp this morning and disappeared into the hills. BA thinks several are probably watching the convent, while others are up watching the dam…and the convent from above."

The colonel nodded, accepting this. "Any word on my lieutenant?" he asked, tension seeping into his voice. She looked at him, and a kind smile crossed her face.

"Lieutenant Peck hasn't woken yet, but neither has he worsened, at least not since this morning."

Hannibal thanked her with a smile. That in itself was very good news.

She perked up, as if remembering something else, "Oh, I'd also suggest that you should not ride in together. The brothers' have hired watchers, people from the town, and I had to sneak by several to get out here."

"What?" Hannibal looked surprised. Chris hissed in annoyance.

"How close are we to the convent?" Buck asked Josiah.

"A few miles," the preacher replied. "Mostly uphill from here, and the cover comes and goes. Its not until you hit the base of the hills where the convent is that the brush gets thick." He frowned, "We could try to go around, but it'd add a lot of time." He looked at Hannibal, "How did you leave?"

"No one was watching the roads then. Obviously, though, someone must have seen me leave. I thought I had avoided that, but…if they have watchers on the road, then they know I've gone." He frowned. That bothered him. He was almost certain he hadn't been seen.

"Miguel also told me to tell you that he saw one of the sisters sneak out and go into town last night. Sister Anastasia, I think. Sister Anastasia is not supposed to leave the convent, so…." She shrugged. "She's an intense and easily frightened woman. She probably thought she was doing what was best for the town and the nuns."

"Damn," Hannibal frowned. If they continued riding, they'd probably be riding into an ambush long before they reached the convent.

"If we keep going, we'll be probably ride into an ambush long before we get to the convent," Chris said. Hannibal blinked at him. Damn that was eerie. He grinned suddenly.

"Well, I knew we couldn't all just ride up to the convent doors and expect no one to notice, despite the fact that I would enjoy the look on the mother superior's face if we did," he smirked, then shrugged. "But I did think we could have all snuck in. Now sounds like we need to do something more elaborate."

"Actually, we could use this to our advantage," Chris mused, his lips pursing as they usually did when he had a plan in mind. Hannibal's eyes narrowed, then, slowly, he began to smile.

"You mean…fool them into thinking I've only brought a few men back with me?"

"While the rest of us sneak around, yes," Chris nodded. "You take the main road, make sure you're seen…and we'll find the back way in. If Donata here will help us?" He looked at the girl, who shrugged and nodded.

"So how many men should I take with me?" Hannibal asked.

"Since they know you left," Chris replied, "then they probably also know you went to Four Corners. So, they'd expect you to return with Josiah, at the very least."

"And perhaps a doctor," Ezra added, looking over at Nathan.

"They'd never believe I was a doctor, Ez," the healer said sourly, "even if I was one."

"No," the gambler agreed, "but I could be one. If you let me borrow your black bag and Mr. Dunne lends me his clothes," he grinned at JD, who looked surprised, then looked back at Nathan, who was frowning. "And you could always sneak in after us, perhaps checking to make sure that our passage is seen? Plus, I expect the colonel would appreciate it if you checked on his lieutenant," Ezra looked at Hannibal for confirmation. The colonel nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Jackson. I would appreciate that greatly."

Nathan's frown turned into a soft smile and he nodded.

"Wait, hold on," JD said, "What was that about my clothes?"

"I've been there before as well," Vin said, "they might accept me showing up as well."

"I think we'll need you more in the hills," Chris said to Vin. "If there are indeed a large contingent of bad guys floating around there, lying in ambush, we'll need you to help find and track them."

Vin gave him a single nod in understanding.

Ezra looked at Donata. "By the way, is there a way to sneak into the convent?" he asked her.

"Si," she replied. "There are many trees and bushes around on the plain, and there are a number of places…."

"Wait, what do you mean, my clothes? What am I supposed to wear!" JD demanded.

Ezra sighed, "JD, on your honor not to damage them, I would lend…."

"Now, just hold on, all this is well and good," Buck said from where he was getting impatient in the back, "but I think we're getting a little ahead of ourselves, don't you?"

"Meaning?" Ezra asked, looking at him.

"That we need a plan of what happens when we do all get there," Chris replied. He looked at Hannibal, "Did you have one before all this happened?"

Hannibal nodded, "Yes. I thought to draw the Fishmans and their honchos to the dam site for a showdown. My theory rested on the assumption that they would try to take out my men and I prior to attacking the nuns. After all, we were…are…the only real threat. I did not count on their getting the town getting involved, at least not beyond the corrupt sheriff, and upsetting the balance of power."

"And what would have happened at the dam site?" Vin prompted.

"I had some good surprises planned, not the least was the building of a water cannon much like the one the Fishmans were going to build to blast the mines." He shrugged. Then he smiled wickedly, "though, truth be told, I did also have another last ditch idea in my head…and idea I think would be very effective now."

"And what makes you think this plan will work better than your last one?" Josiah asked curtly. His anger had not abated over the day long ride down here. Hannibal looked askance at the preacher.

"That's easy, Mr. Sanchez. This time I'm the one who is going to upset the balance." He smiled, "I have you."

PART VI

Chapter Twenty-One

Ezra grimaced, shifting again in the saddle because of the uncomfortable clothes. Unfortunately, JD wore the only outfit which could be considered "plain," among them, clothes a doctor might wear. Problem was, JD was smaller than him. Almost two inches shorter and also thinner. The only piece of clothing he still wore that was his, besides his underclothes, was his shirt and black waistcoat, because he could just about close JD's jacket over them.

"You keep shifting like that, doctor, you're going to give yourself away," Josiah muttered. Ezra had told the preacher and Hannibal to call him "doctor" as much as possible as they rode closer to the convent.

"And you keep talking like that, Mr. Sanchez, and you'll do it for me," the gambler replied. He squirmed again. He had placed the black bag in front of him on the saddle, to make it more obvious, but it was also getting irritating to hold.

"Wonder how JD's treating that purple coat of yours," Josiah continued in a whisper, smiling wickedly. "Think he's tripped and fallen yet? Gotten mud on those nice trousers…ripped a seam in the shoulders of the jacket…torn a sleeve…."

"You're hilarious, Mr. Sanchez. Perhaps we should focus on the job at hand?"

"Face is insane about his clothes," Hannibal muttered out of nowhere. "He always tries to look like he's walking down Madison Avenue instead of the backwoods of New Mexico." A small smile crossed his face, "the mud around the convent drove him crazy."

Ezra glanced at Josiah, lifting his eyebrows. The preacher frowned.

"Um…at some point we'll have to get off the road in order to try and appear less obvious," Josiah said. Hannibal's brow furrowed briefly, and he looked over at his companions with the face of someone who'd just been caught daydreaming in class.

"Yes, of course. There is a bend in the road up ahead…we can go into the woods there, and try to get to the convent from the side. Does that sound good to you Mr. Sanchez, Dr. Standish?"

Josiah nodded, and looked at Ezra. The gambler had his head down. When he looked up again, he smiled at Josiah and rode up right next to him.

"We just passed another interested pair of eyes," he whispered, repressing the smile and letting his horse fall back again.

+ + + + + + +

Andrew Fishman nodded, leaning back in his chair in the saloon like a king on his throne. In front of him, Mr. Duval twisted his hat around in his hands by its brim. The sky purpled outside as the sun set behind the horizon, fading to black.

"The brother, as expected, and a doctor. Humph," Andy frowned, "I thought he would have found more people to help him than that."

"That's all that were seen. They should be almost at the convent by now, probably hoping to sneak in under cover of darkness. The people I sent didn't see anyone else behind them."

"How hard did they look?" the red head mocked, eyes flicking up to meet Duval's. The hardware store owner lowered his own eyes in response.

"It's true more may be following, boss," one of Andy's hired guns suggested. "But, fact is, the A-Team has a reputation for being loners. They don't ever get outside help. He may have just gone to get exactly what he came back with – the brother and someone to check on the conman."

Andy grimaced, his eyes tracing the wood on the table. It didn't sound right.

"Besides," the hired gun continued, "you got men all over the hills, watching the convent, watching the roads and watching the camp. They're not going to sneak anyone else in without our seeing."

Andy sighed, then nodded. "Even so…I'd feel better if we had a little more leverage." He looked up, "You know where the boy Miguel is?"

The hired gun nodded. "He's been hanging around the camp. I think he's hoping to free Murdock."

"Grab him."

An ugly smile crossed the other man's face, "yes sir."

+ + + + + + +

Miguel had stationed himself just outside of the camp, watching Murdock and the hired guns, trying to keep an eye on them so that he could report to BA when the time came. Of course, the sergeant had not asked him to do this, but he needed to feel useful somehow.

He'd counted twenty-four hired guns now. Three more had ridden into the camp this night, looking for work. The Fishman's must really believe there was a lot of gold in that camp to hire this many men. And what they needed them for, Miguel had no idea. He wished he could hear the discussions better between Andrew Fishman and his brother.

He saw Murdock sitting against the rockface, resting his head against his knees. He almost looked like he was trying to get some sleep, but the boy felt he knew better. There was tension radiating off the captain, as if he was a tightly wound coil that could spring at any moment. It was by sheer will power alone that the man hadn't done so yet.

Movement had the boy looking back to the big tent where Andy Fishman and his brother slept. Grimacing, the kid shuffled forward, considering ways to get over there. If only he could….

A twig snapped behind him, and the boy froze.

Slowly, he turned his head and gave a choked cry as he saw three of the hired guns kneeling down to peer into the bush he was hiding in, looking at him and smiling.

"Hey kid," one of them called softly, "figured you might be getting hungry up here. Want some soup?"

Miguel lowered his head and sighed. Over in the camp, Murdock's head had lifted and he was staring directly at where the boy had thought he was hidden.

The captain frowned. He'd wondered how long they were going to let Miguel "hide" there.

"Hurry colonel," he muttered.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sister Frances nearly jumped out of her skin when someone tapped hard on the window in the kitchen. The moon was even smaller tonight, and the world was as black as pitch outside of the brightly lit kitchen. Nervously, she leaned forward and looked down, then relaxed as she recognized Hannibal kneeling down on the other side, motioning for her to open it up. Unlatching the shutter like windows, she shoved them open then leaned back.

Hannibal climbed in first, followed by Josiah Sanchez…and a young man she didn't know.

"Josiah," Frances greeted the preacher with a light smile, "It's good to see you." She glanced at Ezra and frowned, not recognizing him – another strange man in the convent.

"Sister," Josiah greeted, standing and brushing himself off. "How is my sister."

Frances smiled more brightly, "Actually…she's fine. More than fine. She's been very calm."

Josiah looked surprised. "Calm?"

"She…uh…," she looked at Hannibal, "she seems to be very much taken with your sergeant."

"BA Baracus?" Josiah asked. "The huge black man?" The thing he remembered most about BA was the sergeant's ability to scare the hell out of everyone merely by looking in their direction.

She nodded. "We don't really understand it ourselves." She looked suspiciously again at Ezra, who winked at her. She jumped a little and frowned.

"I do," Hannibal said. "She obviously has the ability to see him for who he really is." He smiled, "he would never harm her, and she obviously knows that."

She nodded, then smiled again. "Your young man woke up a little earlier. Not for very long, but we got some water into him. He asked for you."

The colonel grinned at the news, "Is he still in the same room?" When Frances nodded, he practically ran out of the kitchen, leaving Josiah and Ezra with Frances.

"Where is my sister?" Josiah asked curtly, and Frances grimaced at the tone.

"Where she usually is. In the back room. Painting."

"And the sergeant?"

"He snuck out earlier, in order to go check on his friend Murdock again. He'll probably be back soon."

"He'll probably run into the others then," Ezra said conversationally. As he spoke, he took off JD's jacket, happy to be rid of it. The shiny black waistcoat hidden underneath made Frances blink in surprise, as did the derringer rig attached to his arm.

Josiah frowned, mulling over what Frances had said about his sister. He glanced at Ezra, then back at Frances. "I'm going to go see Hannah."

"Oh…yes, of course," Frances said, still distracted by Ezra's smile which he had turned back on her at full wattage. "Would you, um, like me to tell Sister Ethel that you're here?" she asked as Josiah brushed past her.

Josiah stopped in the doorway, and turned around. "Why not? I have a few things I'd like to say to her." There was a gruffness to the words, but Frances figured Ethel could handle it. She nodded and Josiah left. Sighing, she turned them to the third man in the group, who was presently leaning against a counter, jacket over his arm and a black doctor's bag in his hands.

He grinned at her. "Hi darling," he said, raising an eyebrow and doing his best Buck impression, "Come here often?"

"Um…are you a doctor of some kind?" Frances asked nervously, looking at the black bag. The gambler chuckled.

"No ma'am, not unless you want to play a nurse."

Frances' jaw dropped, not needing to understand the reference to guess its intent. Ezra grinned wider, enjoying himself.

"By the way," he said, sidling closer to her, "do you mind if we keep this back window open? We're expecting a delivery."

"A delivery?" Frances repeated, backing away to put herself on the other side of the table.

He leaned over the table and cupped his chin in his hand, "Yes ma'am, about six foot four inches of manhood, goes by the name of Nathan. I think you'll like it." He blinked up at her, green eyes bright.

"Um, um," Frances tore her eyes from his gaze and scampered to the door, "another man?...Oh dear…I…I…please excuse me…I need to find the mother superior…." And she disappeared at a run down the hall.

Ezra had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud.

+ + + + + + +

"What do you see?" Chris asked, sliding up next to Vin on the same ledge that BA had occupied earlier that morning.

"Plenty of the guns."

"Yup," Chris shifted back. "See Murdock?"

"Straight down, against the rock face. Looks healthy enough. There's a boy there as well."

Chris frowned, "A boy?"

"I met him once before. He helped me get into the convent to see Hannah when I first came here. He's older, taller too."

Chris snorted, "Yes, boys do that. Two years is a long time in a child's life."

Vin rolled his eyes, knowing that was a jibe for not telling Chris about Hannah earlier.

"Think it's the famous Miguel?" the gunslinger asked.

"Probably. C'mon, let's find the others," Vin inched away from the ledge and turned around. And stopped dead.

Sergeant BA Baracus stepped out from behind a tree, his arms crossed defiantly.

"It's about time," the sergeant growled.

Then he grinned.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah kissed his sister's head, which she barely noticed, then backed away. She returned to her painting, this time drawing what looked an awful lot like a dark-skinned angel…with a mohawk.

Smiling, he shook his head and backed away, turning around only when he reached the door.

Sister Ethel was waiting for him, a chagrined look on her face.

"Mother," Josiah greeted coldly.

"Hello Josiah," she took in a breath, "so…how have you been?" she tried to look innocent. He just stared at her for a moment, not answering, and pointed out the door. She sighed and nodded, walking out of the room with Josiah on her heels. He shut the wooden door and turned a glare on the nun.

"Why didn't you write to me for help?" he demanded.

"To you?" she looked surprised, "But…you made us promise never to contact you at Four Corners unless it was an emergency…."

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I mean," she raised a hand to explain, "an emergency with Hannah."

Josiah crossed his arms. Ethel licked her lips.

"Yes, I realize that this probably qualifies, but I…honestly thought…that we could resolve this. We just needed to have the dam rebuilt. And by the time it was, I was certain either the governor or the church…." She trailed off, and lowered her head.

"Next time, you write to me first. Understand?"

She grimaced, and anger flashed across her eyes at his tone. "Is that an order?" she asked.

Josiah shrugged, pursing his lips. Her eyes narrowed.

"Now you listen to me, Josiah Sanchez, we take care of your sister because we care about her and you…but you do not think you can order us around because of it. I made a mistake, yes. But, honestly, what could you have done? Come in here with all your friends, shooting up the town and causing your sister even more pain? I was trying to do what was best, and which would involve the least violence. Do not fault me for that."

Josiah frowned, "Come in with my friends and shoot up the town? That's what you think I'd do?"

"I hear what happens in Four Corners." She lifted her chin. "About how you solve problems there. With your guns."

Josiah stared at her, then shook his head. "I may not have the right to make your decisions for you, mother, but I have a right to want to know when someone is threatening my sister's home and happiness. And do not assume things about my life and what I do in Four Corners based on ‘what you hear.' You want to know about violence, ask the people of Four Corners what life was like before we got there."

Ethel grimaced, staring up at him, her jaw shifting as she tried to think of a rebuttal. As her mouth opened, the realization of what she was doing occurred to her. She shut it again, and blushed, annoyed at herself for entering into such a useless argument.

"I'm sorry, Josiah," she shook her head. "I don't mean to argue with you. I think I'm just a little…tense."

He grimaced, his body aching for a fight, but he sucked in a breath and released it. "Ethel, I know that you still think of me the way I was…before…but I'm not that man anymore. When you're in trouble, you can come to me, especially if it affects my sister."

"Josiah," she smiled weakly, as if she hadn't heard a word, "I think that's enough, don't you?"

He sighed, shutting his eyes. She was one of the most small-minded women he had ever known. When he opened them again, she was already walking away from him, heading back into the heart of the convent. He repressed the urge to lash out at the wall in frustration and followed her. Why did she always make him want to hit something?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nathan knelt down, lifting the dressing gently from Face's abdomen, checking for infection. He nodded and set it back in place. Standing, he walked over to where Ezra had placed his bag on a dresser and opened it up, pulling out some small stoppered bottles and bags of herbs.

The gambler himself was resting against a wall, having changed into a pair of Face's trousers from the conman's bags, and otherwise wearing just a white shirt and a black waistcoat. He was happy to discover that the sandy-haired conman was exactly the same size he was, and he quickly took off JD's scratchy trousers. Now though, he just watched worriedly as Nathan set out bottles and small bags of herbs.

"What?" Hannibal asked, sitting on a chair next to Face's bed.

"Wound is clean; he's been very well taken care of," Nathan answered, looking at the colonel. "But I won't lie to you. The bullet was well placed to cause a lot of damage. I don't like that he's still mostly unconscious and that I can feel some rigidity in his abdomen. He may need surgery if he's bleeding internally, and he's already lost so much blood as it is since you cut him before…." He frowned, then indicated his things. "I have some items which may help prevent infection and help him heal faster…." He shrugged, "but if that swelling in his abdomen doesn't go down…."

Hannibal frowned, and rubbed his hands over his head, demonstrating his frustration. Nathan glanced at Ezra, who had crossed his arms as if to ward off a sudden chill.

"When do you think you'll know," the colonel asked through his hands.

"Tomorrow, maybe, but I honestly don't know. I'll stay up and watch him tonight." The healer stood up and walked over to stand next to Hannibal, his voice softening. "Colonel…frankly, it's amazing he's still alive. He's holding on, and that's a good sign. But there's simply not much I can do, or that anyone could do. All we can do is hope that he is strong enough to keep holding on."

Hannibal's face hardened, but Ezra saw the pain in his eyes at Nathan's words. The gambler lowered his eyes, unable to handle seeing that much unhappiness in someone as vivacious as the colonel. Nathan lifted a hand to Hannibal's shoulder.

"Colonel, look, you need rest. Those few hours last night couldn't have been enough."

The colonel released his hands, "No," he agreed, a hint of anger in his voice replacing the sadness. "It wasn't. But my head is too full to sleep. I'll sleep once we've got the plan in motion." He looked up at Nathan, then over at Ezra.

"I'll get Josiah," the gambler said, straightening up and heading towards the door. He needn't have bothered, as, at that moment, the preacher opened it and walked inside with Sister Ethel.

The mother superior looked at Nathan and then Ezra, and annoyance crossed her eyes for a moment. Then she took in a deep breath and looked at the colonel.

"So many men in our convent," she deadpanned, "my, how people will talk."

Hannibal offered her a smile, "A sense of humor. I knew there had to be one in there somewhere."

She smiled back, then cleared her throat. "Well, what are you planning to do now?"

"First," Hannibal answered, "we need to get you and all the sisters out of here. Sister Antonia told me that you were pretty much all packed and ready to go. Could you leave tonight?"

Ethel couldn't hide her surprise, "Tonight? But we have two more days."

"He won't wait that long, not since he knows that I went to get help," Hannibal stood up. "He has men watching this place, about half a dozen. We scouted them when we came in. I still don't think he plans to hurt you, but he is planning on killing my men and I."

"Kill you?" Ethel shook her head, "No, he said…."

"He can't afford to let us go, mother. He'll try to bring us down when we swap for Murdock, probably up near the dam."

"I don't understand. How can you know…."

"Because men like Andrew Fishman know the rules of empire building, mother," Ezra said from his corner. "You can't let any threats or potential threats go free. You are not a threat. We are."

She frowned at the stranger, then lowered her head, shaking it, "I should never have defied them. We should have just left when they first threatened us. Such a fool. I've put you all in danger. And the poor lieutenant and captain…."

"You did not set this in motion, mother" Ezra interrupted, his voice strong. "They did."

"But I could have…."

"We all know the value of hindsight," Ezra said, "but in this case, you're wrong. You do not have anything to fault yourself for."

Ethel looked at him like he had two heads, "Are you blind? Just look at this room!"

"You were protecting your home and the people under your care. You could not know the nature of those men, or how easily they would twist the town against you. Not even Colonel Smith, a trained officer, could have predicted this. If he had, Lieutenant Peck would not have been shot."

"Very true," Hannibal admitted, his voice soft with emotion.

"But," she shook her head, "I could have stopped it."

"No, I don't think so," Ezra shook his head. "You can't fight men like the Fishmans, mother. But we can. We will finish this. You just have to trust us."

"Trust you," she looked at him with wide eyes, "I don't even know you."

"What do you need to know?" Ezra asked, uncrossing his arms. His eyes never blinked as he captured her gaze in his.

She looked at him, then swallowed, "Even if I did trust you…what would you do?"

"What we have to," Ezra answered. "To put those men behind bars for what they have done, and to make this town safe again. Will you let us do that?"

She looked at the gambler, searching his face.

It seemed hours, but presently she began to nod slowly.

Whatever she saw…she believed.

"Yes."

Hannibal blinked, impressed. She didn't even know Ezra, and yet here she was, trusting him on his word (though because she didn't know him was probably why, he realized ironically). Still, he knew only one other person who had that power.

He sat down next to Face again, resting a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"How do you want us to leave?" Ethel asked, now focused on Ezra.

"We're going to sneak you out. We don't want the Fishmans to know you've left here. Nathan came in undetected, and he thinks he knows a way to get two or three of you out at a time."

"That's right," Nathan said, "And Miguel's sister will be ready with a wagon and some horses that she's borrowed at a rendezvous place we set up north of here. Now, how many are you again?"

"Twenty. How many can you fit on the wagon?"

"Maybe a dozen," Nathan said, frowning. "We'll have to get another wagon."

"Don't worry about that," Ethel said, waving a hand. "I'm more concerned about where you want us to go after we've left here."

Ezra frowned, looking at Hannibal. The colonel frowned.

"I take it you haven't figured that out on your own yet?" the colonel asked.

She shook her head. "No. We were just going to rent some wagons and ride north. Towards Santa Fe. We have enough money that we might be able to rent a couple of barns to sleep in on the way. With so little time to think, we just…." She shrugged.

Hannibal grimaced, while Josiah shook his head.

"Block," Face's voice whispered softly. Hannibal twisted in his seat, eyes wide. His face blossomed into a grin as he saw the lieutenant's blue eyes blink open and look up at him.

"What?" Hannibal asked.

"Block. Ranchers. Good family. Three hours…west…." Face's eyes closed.

"No, no," Hannibal slipped off the chair in order to be at eye level with the lieutenant, "don't go back to sleep, son, stay with us…."

"Unless you've been ordained while I've been asleep, I don't think that appellation works," Face whispered back, opening his eyes again, contrariness in the tone. Hannibal couldn't resist a smile at that, while in the background Ezra raised his eyebrows. Josiah looked askance at the gambler, flashing him a grin. Hannibal stayed focused on the lieutenant.

"Yeah, kid, I know. Listen, stay with us. Don't fall back asleep."

"Give him this," Nathan ordered suddenly, sticking a tin cup of something foul smelling in front of Hannibal's face. "As much as he can drink before he nods off again." The colonel nodded, grabbing it without question.

"You have to drink this," he said, slipping an arm under Face's head and lifting him. The conman groaned, not happy with this unwanted movement, but the colonel ignored it. "Come on Face, stop whining."

"I didn't whine," Face muttered, half lidded eyes catching the colonel's, "I groaned. Entirely different sound." But he dutifully took a swallow of whatever it was that Hannibal poured down his throat. After two sips, the conman's face twisted into a grimace. "That's…horrific…."

"Tell me about it," Ezra agreed. "And that's probably not even full strength."

Hannibal took it back and gave a sniff, and grimaced. He looked at Nathan, "Do I want to know what is in this?"

The healer smiled wryly, "No…not really."

"Fair enough," Hannibal placed the cup back against Face's lips and poured some more down the younger man's throat. Again, Face didn't complain, though his face spoke volumes as to what he thought of it. Nathan crossed his arms and looked at Ezra and Josiah, as if to say, why can't the rest of you be that easy? Ezra just chuckled in response. The preacher, meanwhile, looked back to Ethel.

"Do you know that ranch he mentioned? Or this family, the Blocks?"

Ethel shook her head, "No. Do you really think they would have the room and the heart to take us all in for…however long you think we need to stay there?"

Face lifted a hand and pushed the cup away from his lips. Hannibal let him push his hand, but it still hovered while the other kept the conman propped up.

"They…they have enough room. And…they're good people…that's where," he coughed, looking at Hannibal, "where I got the wood." His eyes narrowed slightly, and Hannibal nodded, understanding the concern.

"You mean the wood for the dam?" Ethel asked.

"I wouldn't mention that to them," the colonel told her. Ethel frowned.

"I don't like lying," she said.

"I didn't ask you to lie," Hannibal pressed, "I merely asked you not to volunteer the truth."

Her pale lips pressed into a thin line. Face coughed, and Hannibal returned to force feeding him the doctored water. The conman took another sip, swallowed, then pushed the cup away again. He looked at Ethel.

"Follow…follow the trail back…to Alexandria…and…when you see the…ruins of…a barn," Face coughed again more violently and Hannibal frowned. Was the liquid doing that?

"It's the medicine doing that, don't worry," Nathan said. "It's just burning his throat a little." Hannibal sighed, a little annoyed at being so easy to read, and thanked the healer with a nod for the explanation.

"At the barn," Face continued, as if no one had spoken, "veer right and…head up over the hill. You'll…head straight…into them…." He smiled, "they…probably…find you first…." His eyes closed again.

Hannibal said Face's name a few times, but the conman's eyes didn't reopen. His jaw tense, the colonel gave the cup back to Nathan then settled Face back down on the pillows.

"Give the medicine a chance," the healer advised. "I'm glad he woke up, and that he was cognizant. Those are very good signs." He smiled, but Hannibal was too intent on watching his lieutenant to notice. Nathan wasn't even sure the colonel had heard him.

"Well, the directions seem simple enough," Ethel agreed. "If they will take us in, then we will go there. For how long?"

"We'll come get you," Ezra promised. She looked at him again, and nodded.

"Then I'll leave you gentlemen to your plans. I need to get my sisters moving." She turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

"Good woman," Hannibal muttered, leaning back on his chair. "A little narrow minded, but good."

Josiah chuckled, happy to hear his own opinion echoed, and moved to sit on the only other chair in the room, near the window, "Yes," he agreed, "she is."

PART VII

Chapter Twenty-Four

"There they go," JD said, watching as two wagons slipped away into the darkness of early morning, along with a handful of horses. The nuns had trickled out to the rendezvous point north of the hills and the town over the course of the night, far away from prying eyes.

Sister Ethel, when she arrived, was the only one of them to speak to the men there, and only in order to explain that two nuns, Sister Antonia and Sister Frances, were staying behind because Hannah wouldn't leave. Josiah's sister had started screaming the moment she got her near the door, and nothing short of knocking the woman out would have quieted her. So, she stayed, and Antonia and Frances stayed with her.

Thus, only eighteen nuns rode away in the darkness, planning on turning west as soon as they found a level plain to follow in that direction. Miguel's sister led them, knowing the area best, though she'd been a reluctant guide.

"I wish we could send someone with them," Buck muttered, not liking the idea of what might happen were they to run into trouble. "Donata is not going to be much of a match with that old carbine I lent her."

"True, but that was better than letting her come with us, once she learnt those bastards had her brother," Chris muttered. "I guarantee, as soon as she sees the sisters safe at that ranch, she'll be riding back here."

Buck smiled, "Gotta admire a spirit like that."

JD rolled his eyes, "don't think its just her spirit you admire, Buck," he mumbled.

"True, true," the ladies' man grinned.

"Besides," JD gripping in his hands on the lapels of Ezra's purple jacket, "t'weren't you she was looking at." She'd admired the jacket once he had it on, using the soft fabric as an excuse to touch his arm. JD arched a knowing eyebrow at his best friend.

Buck's grin faltered, and he sighed. "Well, I admit, some girls do start off preferring the frosting to the cake, but they soon grow out of that."

"Frosting?" JD punched Buck in the arm. "I'll show you who's frosting!" Buck chuckled, grabbing the arm and jogging away a couple of steps.

"Boys," Chris's commanding voice floated over to them, "we've work to do."

"Sure, sure," Buck said, waving a hand dismissively at the gunslinger. "I was just thinking how much Ezra's jacket suits JD. Looks like he's dressing up for his first dance! He looks so cute!"

"Ach!" JD charged at the older man, who sidestepped at the last moment and tripped the kid. JD rolled head over heels in the dirt, and ended up sitting on his rear, shaking dust from his hair.

"Oh…JD…," Vin clucked his tongue. JD squinted up at him from a dust covered face. The tracker patted his right arm. The kid blinked, and looked down at his own right arm.

The elbow had split, so that an ugly hole showed the dirty shirt JD wore underneath.

Buck started guffawing as JD desperately tried to force the torn sleeve back together with his fingers, as if it would magically sew itself.

"Yup," Vin said, "I think its safe to say, if we survive this…you're a dead man, kid."

Chris shook his head, walked over to the kid and offered him a hand up. Once JD was back on his feet, Chris patted off some of the dirt, then smiled.

"As I said, we've got work to do." He started walking back to Solon without looking back.

JD cuffed Buck upside the head where the ladies' man was still bent over with laughter and followed Chris back to the horses.

+ + + + + + +

BA looked back as he heard the others sneaking up the hillock over the camp to crouch next to him. He met Chris's eyes.

"There's twenty-seven now, I think. Just hired three more this morning," the sergeant whispered.

"Twenty-seven," Vin nodded, "Interesting. Guess that evens the odds for them a little," he smiled wickedly.

Chris leaned forward to peer through the brush to the camp below, "How many down there?"

"Twenty-one, including the two brothers," BA answered.

"And the others?"

"There's three down at the dam. Watching the plain and the hills. Didn't see you obviously."

Chris smiled, as if to say, ‘naturally.'

"So, that puts five hovering around the convent," Vin said. "We should take them out first. And someone needs to go make sure the sheriff stays out of the way when this comes down."

Chris nodded. Twisting, he looked at Buck and JD who were crouching further down the hillock, waiting.

"The ones at the convent and the sheriff are yours," he said. "You know what to do. And keep it quiet. If a shot goes off down there, they will hear the echo up hear, so no guns. Meet back here soon as you're done."

"Right ho," Buck saluted quickly, grabbed JD by the sleeve and the two disappeared into the brush.

Chris tapped BA on the shoulder, "You and Vin take the ones at the dam. Rule about guns still applies. I'll keep watch here."

The sergeant nodded, saluting just as Buck did. He paused a second and blinked, realizing what he had just done and frowned slightly. Then, shaking himself out of it, followed Vin who was already creeping away into the shadows.

A tiny smile creased Chris's face at the sergeant's mistake. Pulling out his peacemaker, he settled in to make sure no one at the camp went anywhere for a while.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ezra was watching out of a window on the second floor of the convent, up where they'd moved both Face and Hannah. The two long rectangular rooms they'd taken over -- one for the lieutenant and one for Josiah's sister – were dorm rooms with cots lining the sides. They both ran the full length of the building, split in half by the single hallway down the middle. Windows lined the walls at regular intervals in the back and along the sides, and the one Ezra was using gave an unobstructed view of the plain all the way to the dam in the distance. No windows looked over the front of the convent, which was a bit of a problem. You could only watch the front from the belfry tower above the small chapel or from the front door.

Bright morning sunshine streamed into the room through the unshuttered windows, bringing in the heady smell of wet dirt where, until recently, the river had tried to reform itself. He frowned as he realized that, if you were looking for them, it was pretty easy to see the darting tracks of the nuns as they had snuck out of the convent through the back last night. The mud was thick and held the two inch deep impressions of footprints easily.

Looking up, his eyes tracked what he thought was movement along the edge of what he'd come to think of as "the marsh" – the area where the river had soaked the former crop ground into a swampy mess. Trees and junipers crowded along the edges. It was pretty easy to hide in them.

He was pretty sure there were at least four, maybe five, bodies out there, watching the convent. He squinted, looking for the hint that Chris and Hannibal's plan was in motion out there.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and he straightened.

But, as quickly as it had come, it was gone again. Whatever had been moving was gone from sight, if it had ever been there. He frowned.

A glint of glass flashed up near the dam, drawing his eyes up. Someone was watching the convent through a spyglass now that the sun had come up.

For a moment, he thought it might be Vin. The tracker was supposed to signal them by flashing his spyglass when he secured the dam area. Ezra was tempted to wave, and his lips curled into a goofy smile at the absurd thought. Easy way to get shot. That spyglass was stationary up there. They were still being watched.

+ + + + + + +

Vin and BA hid behind some trees, watching the dam from behind. The three men on watch were actually looking a bit too much on the ball. The sergeant looked over at the tracker, agreeing with the dark expression on the younger man's face. There was no way they could sneak up on any of the three without the other two seeing. And no way to take down all three without their guns.

And they couldn't use their guns.

"We need a distraction," Vin muttered softly.

"Right," BA nodded. He still looked at Vin, his eyes quite clearly stating that he was not going to help in this regard. BA didn't come up with the plans -- that was Hannibal's and, when the colonel was missing, Face's job. And it was usually Murdock who provided the actual distraction. The tracker glanced back at him, and gave a small smile as the sergeant asked: "What kind of distraction?"

Vin sighed, and shrugged. "I've no idea. I don't usually come up with distractions," the tracker admitted. "Well…except for this one time with this guy Wickes, but it was Ezra who actually pulled it off…."

"Ezra's not here," BA stated matter-of-factly.

Vin looked at the sergeant, a slightly annoyed look on his face. BA shrugged. Stating the obvious was what BA did. The tracker sighed, and looked back at the three men on guard.

BA looked down, then perked up, "Well…if he was here…what would you have him do to distract them?"

Vin pursed his lips. "Something fun," he muttered, smiling slightly.

+ + + + + + +

"Anything happening?" a voice asked softly from the cot on the second floor of the convent. Ezra turned, and smiled to see Face blinking owlishly over at him.

"You're awake?" the gambler smiled.

"Really? Good, I'd hate to think I was dreaming this," a wry smile touched his dry lips, and he raised a hand to wave at the windows. "Anything happening?" he repeated.

"Not yet," Ezra answered.

"Where…" Face's voice trailed off.

"Hannibal's with Nathan, going through the sisters' kitchen for…how did he put it…some extra surprises?"

Face gave a weak smile, "Oh…if they have combustibles…he'll find them…."

"Combustibles," Ezra grinned. "Nice word."

Face's smile grew, then he coughed. Leaning his rifle against the wall, Ezra jogged over to the dresser to get the pitcher and cup. He poured the clear water into the cup and knelt down to hand it to the lieutenant.

Face, lying on his side, took it with his free hand and took a gingerly sip. He closed his eyes again, then seemed to force them open in order to look more clearly at Ezra.

"Where…are the others?"

"Josiah's with his sister in the room next to this one, and Sister Antonia is there as well. Sister Frances is downstairs, watching the front of the convent from the door, though, barring the townsfolk coming back, your colonel doesn't think that we have anything to fear from that direction for a while. Something about cowards always using the back door?" he paused, and Face chuckled.

"Hannibal…has a thing…for always using the ‘front door' in…his plans," the conman sighed, took another sip, then handed the cup back to Ezra. The gambler took it and frowned as Face's eyes closed again. Face swallowed, "And Murdock….BA?" he whispered.

"Oh, well, the rest of the brood are out and about in the hills. They're taking care of things."

Face nodded, "Watch out for Murdock and BA…together…they can…get a bit…loud…." And his head drooped.

Ezra rested a hand on the man's head, checking for a temperature, then stood up. Face didn't seem to know or remember that Murdock was being held hostage, which was probably a good thing. With a sigh, he returned to his post. Green eyes scanned the landscape. Nothing appeared to have changed….

+ + + + + + +

"Three down!" JD said gleefully, standing up a wiping the dirt from his hands. He moved forward to check out the convent through the trees, and saw a part of Ezra's white sleeve as the gambler returned to his post at the window, knowing that the gambler probably couldn't see them. Turning, he grinned down at the third bruiser as Buck hogtied the unconscious man and stuffed a rag in his mouth.

"Don't get cocky on me yet, kid," Buck responded, tying the last knot and tossing the bruiser to the side. "We still got two more, not to mention that, if we've miscounted…."

"You worry too much," JD smiled. "This is like taking candy…."

"Hey! Who the heck are you…?" The strange voice trailed off, clearly having figured it out. Mr. Duval had come out here with food for the men watching the convent, and was now regretting that favor.

Both Buck and JD looked to their right, where a short, balding man stared at them with wide eyes. He didn't look like a gunslinger. He looked more like a shopkeeper, especially considering the brown bag of food in his arms. The man backed up, nearly tripping over his own feet, before tossing the bag at them, turning around and running like hell.

"Damn it!" Buck was after him, scrambling over some fallen branches, including the one they'd used to clobber the bad guy on the ground. JD bit his lip, waiting a moment, before turning to his right and running up the hillside between the trees and into the open.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra straightened, seeing a familiar looking jacket appear as someone who looked an awful lot like JD scrambled up the hill to the left, before the figure disappeared back into the trees.

"JD you idiot!" he hissed. He saw the spyglass on the hill flash. Whoever was watching had seen the kid. Damn it!

He turned and ran out the door. Josiah popped his head out of the door of the other room at the same time, having seen the same thing. Ezra held up a staying hand as he ran past, headed for the stairs. The preacher frowned, but stayed where he was.

+ + + + + + +

"There's movement on the hill!" One of the hired gunslingers up on the dam stood up from where he had been watching the convent and plain spread out below, his spyglass trained on the hillside. The two others were pacing up and down the water's edge, their eyes on the woods in case anyone tried to come up from behind, but they both stopped at the news. The one at the edge turned his spyglass again, "And…someone's just come out the back of the convent!"

The other two jogged over to the edge to join him, and looked down, trying to see what the first man saw.

Sure enough, a white shirted man was standing just outside the rear gate of the convent, looking as if he were jumping up and down.

"The one at the convent…he's…" the first man paused, his spyglass trained on Ezra. "I think…he's dancing an Irish jig."

"Gimme that!" one of the others snarled, snatching the spyglass away. He stared down at the white shirted man, his frown growing.

"Well?" the third man asked.

"He is dancing. How weird. Though, gotta say it looks more like Morris dancing than Irish," The second man's bemused tone made the first one smile smugly.

"Told ya, " said the first man. "Though, I'm pretty sure it's Irish, not Scottish. Morris dancing is more up and down."

"Yeah, maybe, but he could also just be tap dancing, see the way he's got one arm over his head, kinda like a…?"

"Are you two nuts!" the third suddenly yelled, "don't you get it? He's distracting us from whatever is happening on the hill!" He grabbed the spyglass and turned it to the hillside.

"That's not the only thing he's distracting you from, boys!" Vin called from behind them. The sound of two rifle hammers being pulled back echoed across the water. "Now, I'd put my hands up and turn around if I were you!"

The three men froze and looked at each other sideways, considering their options. The first man's hands twitched, his fingers drifting closer to the gun at his waist.

"Man said hands up! Now turn around!" a different, much darker voice growled.

That voice did it. The one with the spyglass dropped it, and all three frowned, raising their hands as ordered. Turning, they were suddenly glad that they hadn't chosen to fight when they saw the two men facing them.

BA's lips curled upwards for a brief moment, then fell into their customary snarl. His muscles rippled in the sunlight.

"Hands on your head," Vin ordered. "And you make one sound…well, let's just say I wouldn't want to make the sergeant here mad…would you?"

+ + + + + + +

JD half ran, half scrambled, vaguely following a thin goat track cut against the hillside, watching as two men appeared out of nowhere and started running for Buck's position somewhere below. The shopkeeper was yelling loudly for help, and while the shouts wouldn't reach much past the immediate area, it was more than enough to get the last two hired guns responding. They had bolted out of their hiding places like crocodiles leaping from the water to snatch at their prey.

Buck finally caught up with the shopkeeper, tackling him to the ground.

Seeing the ladies' man finally come to a stop, JD jumped off his little track and started running down the hill above Buck's position, barely keeping upright as his feet constantly tried to slip out from beneath him on the dead leaves and loose dirt.

The ladies' man barely avoided a kick to the jaw and got in a solid uppercut to the shopkeeper's chin, knocking the stranger flat. Staggering back to his feet, his breathing ragged from the run, Buck turned around to look for the gunslingers he knew were bearing down on him…plus, he had no idea where JD had gone. He was about to yell the kid's name when a gunman crashed through the brush to his left, gun raised and about to fire. Buck twisted and fell back on his rear with a surprised cry, not ready yet. Where had he come from?

And like a bolt of lightening, 180 pounds of JD Dunne appeared out of nowhere, diving into the man from somewhere above both their heads. The kid cannoned into the gunman, sending them both flying and crashing further down the hillside, disappearing once more into the underbrush.

Buck whooshed, shaking his head at the narrow escape. Man he loved that kid! He got back to his feet and began to chuckle….

….at least until he turned to find another gunman staring at him from the other side of the unconscious shopkeeper. Like the first, this one had his gun raised, but there was nothing "last minute" about this one's movements. It was if he'd been standing there for hours, just waiting for Buck to show up and be a convenient target. An evil smile played on the gunman's lips as the suddenly sober Buck scrambled for his own weapon, both men knowing full well the ladies' man would be too slow.

It was a shock to the over-confident gunman, then, to feel the sharp sting of a knife embed itself in his back.

His mouth formed a small "o" and Buck, who couldn't see why the gunman's expression had gone from smug to surprise, arched a curious eyebrow.

Then the gunman's eyes rolled upwards, the only sound a peep from his throat as he fell helplessly into a heap at the hapless Buck's feet.

The ladies' man was staring at the body in a sort of disbelieving stupor as Nathan jogged out of nowhere. Buck looked up.

"Nathan? But, how….?"

"Ezra sent me," the healer said, as if he'd just been out for a stroll. "Thought maybe you might need some help." Nathan grinned impishly. Buck blinked, then started to grin.

"Help?" JD asked, stumbling up out of the brush from where he'd knocked out his man. "Pshaw! We didn't need any help!" he grinned, reaching up to pull some muck and dead leaves from his hair and walking over to Buck. "As I said, like taking candy…."

"From a freight train," Buck finished. JD laughed.

Nathan looked up from where he had been removing his knife, and couldn't resist a whistle as he looked at the state of Ezra's jacket on the kid. The left sleeve was torn from cuff to elbow, the hole in the right sleeve was twice the size it was before, and muck, caked-on dirt and wet dead leaves stuck to the rest of it. It was barely recognizable. The healer put a hand to his mouth.

"Damn, JD, you got a death wish?"

JD's smile faltered, and he looked down at himself.

"Oh…," the kid said. When he looked up, he was biting his lip, "Think he'll notice?"

+ + + + + + +

Vin tied up the third man, then stood up and smiled at the sergeant.

"That's Ezra, isn't it," BA asked, looking down the hill to the convent, seeing the odd jumping up and down of the white shirted man.

Vin grinned, and whistled for Peso. The horse appeared from out the woods, and Vin pulled his spyglass from the saddle. "Yup." He waved the spyglass as he spoke. Ezra stopped and waved back.

BA shook his head. "He's surprisingly prescient."

"You should hear him sing," Vin grinned.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra walked back into the convent, happy to have seen a spyglass waving at him from the dam. He couldn't resist the urge to grin, even when he saw Hannibal resting against the broken back door frame, an amused glint in the older man's eyes.

"Tap dancing?" the colonel asked, "Morris dancing?"

"Irish jig," Ezra replied, blushing massively and ducking past him to hide in the dark interior. Hannibal laughed, following him in.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Nathan walked back into the convent, entering through the back door this time instead of through the window he'd slipped out of, no longer needing to hide his approach. Like Ezra, he'd seen Vin's signal from the dam.

He nodded to Hannibal as he passed by the kitchens, where the colonel was busy stuffing cloth into the top of several bottles now filled with the so called "combustibles." There were only a handful, but hopefully they wouldn't need more than that. The healer also waved to Sister Frances, who was leaning against the front door, watching the road towards town. She waved back, then titled her head as she caught sight of two men exiting the woods up the road and heading into town. She frowned, not recognizing them, but didn't say anything since they were headed away from the convent.

Climbing up the stairs, Nathan peeked into Josiah's room, where the preacher was watching out the windows while Antonia tried to stop Hannah from breaking down again. Josiah's sister was quietly whimpering, still not having gotten over the scare of nearly being forced to leave, or being in this strange room or all the excitement. Josiah, hearing Nathan's footfall, turned and caught his eye, nodding a curt hello. The preacher's expression was taut, and the healer lowered his eyes, hating seeing such tension in the usually easy-going older man.

Backing out of the stressful room, Nathan crossed the hall and walked into the room with Ezra and Face.

As expected, Face was sleeping, lying on his uninjured side, peaceful as can be, while Ezra paced up and down past the windows like a caged tiger. The gambler turned to look at him as he entered, eyes bright with the anticipation of the forthcoming fight.

"Are they all right?" he asked, looking at the healer. Nathan smiled and nodded, knowing the gambler meant JD and Buck.

"Both fine. There are presently five gunman and a shopkeeper securely tied up on the hill, not going anywhere. Now they've gone to make a visit to the local sheriff."

Ezra smiled wickedly, "Wish I could be there. Always fun to see Buck in action."

Nathan gave an agreeing nod, "And I assume you also saw Vin's signal?"

Ezra smiled, nodding. "Looks like my little distraction for JD had an extra bonus."

"Yeah," Nathan tilted his head, "out of curiosity, what exactly did you do? I missed it."

Ezra blushed mightily, and was saved from answering by Hannibal pushing into the room with an armful of bottles. Ezra was quickly by his side, grabbing a bottle than nearly crashed to the ground. The colonel smiled at him and unloaded the rest by gingerly resting them all on the wooden floor. Nathan rested his hands on his hips and watched them move the bottles closer to the windows two by two, then went over to check on the conman.

Gently, he rolled Face onto his back and lifted the dressing from the wound. A smile graced his kind features, and he turned to look at Hannibal. The colonel was already watching him, his blue eyes not so much looking at Nathan as appearing to see through him. The healer repressed an urge to shudder at the dissecting stare and nodded.

"Swelling has gone down, and there's still no real sign of infection." Nathan assured him. "His body is healing well – I think he's going to be all right."

Hannibal gave a grateful sigh and fell back against the wall between the windows, the last bit of tension leaving him. Truth was, he knew that he could face down a horde of a hundred men, could ride bareback on the back of a rabid bull, could walk through a hail of bullets and never lose his way …but when one of his men wounded, he somehow lost focus, his ability to think things through. With Nathan's words, his promise that Face would be all right, Colonel Hannibal Smith felt like he could breathe again.

When he looked at Ezra and Nathan again, his eyes glittered, his lips creased into a knowing grin, and he reached into his breast pocket for a cigar.

The grin faded slightly as he found there wasn't a cigar in his pocket.

"Here," Ezra said, holding out a cigar to the colonel, "I found this one among Face's things."

The colonel took the cigar with a grin, bit off the end, and stuck it in his mouth. He wasn't going to ask how Ezra knew what he was looking for, some things are just better left to the dime novels.

PART VIII

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Buck and JD dismounted, joining Vin, BA and Chris where they were quietly talking over the next part of the plan -- about how they were going to approach Fishman's camp. Vin looked over at the newcomers, nodding a welcome while BA listened to whatever it was Chris was telling him. The sergeant was nodding.

Vin's lips curled into an involuntary smile as he saw the state of the purple jacket. JD held up a warning finger.

"Don't say it," he hissed. "One word about my looking like something the cat dragged in and I swear…."

"Actually, it was the smell I was going to remark on," Vin drawled softly.

JD's eyes widened, then narrowed angrily. "It smells fine!"

Vin's smile grew, and Chris stopped talking enough to look at JD. The gunslinger grinned, unable to resist, and the kid glared at him.

"I was saving Buck's life when it happened!" he whispered intently. Chris nodded.

"Oh, of course. Absolutely." He said it in such a way as to leave no doubt that he didn't believe a word.

"Yeah, kid," Vin said, "And if you use that story with Ezra, he might not even break both your legs."

"Yeah, probably just an arm," Chris agreed solemnly.

"S'not a story!" JD stated. He nudged Buck, "You tell ‘im!"

Buck had been standing idly by, his hands behind his back, and, at JD's words, he shrugged. "Actually, kid, I've seen Ezra dive off horses, get shot, and survive brawls like the one after Obediah's trial all without breaking a stitch in that thing….I'm not sure I'm going to be able to explain how you did what you did to that jacket in less than twenty four hours."

JD's jaw dropped, and then clamped shut. He hated it when Buck had a point.

"All right, ladies," Chris said, "as much as I'd love to discuss haberdashery all day, we need to get the rest of the plan in motion. Buck, JD, when you took care of the sheriff, how did the town seem?"

"We locked him up in his own jail. And the town is quiet. Unless someone goes to check on him, we should be fine."

"What do you need us to do now?" Buck asked.

"Well, first thing I want to do is get that kid Miguel out of there, then we can implement the rest of the plan without the distraction of keeping him safe. I figure Buck and I can offer a diversion long enough to slip the kid out, then we'll work on the captain." He looked at JD, and the kid straightened. "Kid," and he glanced at Buck, "an no offense old dog," he looked back at JD, "you're the fastest among us. I…."

"Hell yeah I'm offended," Buck said. "You think the kid is really faster than me?"

"Kid's faster than everyone," Vin admitted. "That new horse of his…what do you call her?"

"Bonnie," JD answered.

"She's built for speed, Buck, and you know it."

"Yeah, but Gray…."

"Is a great horse, but he's not as fast as Bonnie."

Buck frowned, but he didn't argue again. JD was trying not to look smug…it wasn't difficult when he felt the breeze lift the tattered sleeve of the purple jacket.

"We'll get the kid out of there, quiet as we can, and you get him down to the convent," Chris still spoke to JD, who nodded gravely. "Then the rest is up to us," he looked at Buck and BA, then shifted his gaze to the tracker, "and you."

Vin nodded and Chris smiled.

"What about getting a horse for Murdock?" Buck asked. "When we get him away, we'll be slowed down if one of us has to ride double."

"Not if I take him on Van," BA stated. "We'll be fine."

"Van?" Buck looked at the sergeant. "Look, I'll agree that your horse is unusually large, but…."

"He's carried more than that and not lost a step," BA replied coldly. "He'll take both me and Murdock and I'll guarantee we'll make it back to the convent before you do."

Buck raised his eyebrows in amusement, and looked at Chris. The gunslinger shrugged back. BA crossed his arms, his confidence unwavering.

"All right then," Chris said, "If you think Van can do it, we'll trust you. Now, here's how this is going to work…."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Murdock was leaning back against the rockface, his eyes partly closed. He was tired. He didn't know what was happening outside this camp, had no clue how Face was, and with Miguel now sitting next to him, had taken it upon himself to stick himself in anyone's way that approached both him and the kid. Nearly two days without sleep had taken its toll, and he was beginning to feel himself getting fuzzy around the edges.

"Hey," Miguel whispered suddenly, nudging the captain with his elbow. "There's two new guns. That make's twenty-nine, right?"

Murdock's eyes opened more, and he blinked, wishing he could wipe them with his hands. He didn't even want to think what his wrists must look like after two days in bonds. They ached, which was enough to make him worry about how fast he'd be able to move them if and when he had to.

"Two more? Where?"

"Over by the Fishman's tent. See? Tall guy in black and tall guy with a moustache."

Murdock's eyes opened fully, the descriptions familiar, and hope blossomed in his chest.

He had to bit his lip to prevent himself from cheering as he saw Buck Wilmington and Chris Larabee staring back at him and the kid. Larabee turned away almost immediately, to talk to Andy Fishman who had walked out to meet them, while Buck walked deeper into the camp…or, rather, swaggered into the camp.

A pebbled dropped onto Murdock's hat, and the captain looked up to see BA looking down at him. The sergeant put a finger to his lip, then pointed to Miguel and gave a jerking upwards motion with his hand. Murdock nodded. The captain lowered his head again, looking around the camp, and was happy to see that all eyes were on the newcomers.

"Miguel," the captain leaned close to the kid, "expect…things to happen."

The boy's eyes widened, and he stiffened, but he gave a quick nod.

When the throwing knife landed in the dirt between them, the kid didn't even flinch.

+ + + + + + +

"That's right," Chris nodded at Andy, "there's word you're hiring guns. My friend and I are two of the best."

"Word, really? From where," Andy crossed his arms suspiciously.

"Just around."

"Huh," Andy arched an eyebrow. "Well…I don't need any more men."

"You sure?" Chris looked around the camp, his eyes scanning, flicking over Murdock and the boy, and then to where Buck had wandered to the middle and was "preening" – he'd taken out a large hunting knife on which to clean his fingernails – as he wormed his way around. "Gotta say I wouldn't call the ones you got much to talk about." He licked his teeth inside his mouth, sneering as he did so. "Look like a bunch of farmer boys to me."

The ones in hearing distance stood up automatically. Andy waved them down and frowned.

"Look, Mr…what was your name again?"

"Larabee. Chris Larabee."

Andy's eyebrows shot up. "Larabee? Yeah…I heard of you. But I thought you were working for a judge somewhere?"

Chris smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Well, I did work a judge over recently, if that's your meaning. Tried to hang my friend over there." He indicated Buck, who was now walking over and looking down on the different groups of gunmen. Whatever he was doing, it clearly rubbed a lot of them the wrong way. The level of hostility in the gathering had definitely started to rise.

"I see," Andy smiled, still looking at Chris. "And now you want to work for me?"

"Looks that way."

"How much for your services?"

"Ten bucks a day."

Andy snorted, "You're kidding."

"You want the best? You pay the best."

Andy licked his lips, the idea of having the infamous Chris Larabee working for him incredibly tempting. Visions of having the gunslinger walking down the main street of Vista City by his side, and the looks on the faces of the townsfolk…he'd own this whole area and never have to spend the money for bullets. No one would challenge someone like Chris Larabee.

The red headed man nodded, "All right. Come inside," he lifted the tent flap, "let's talk."

Chris nodded and glanced at Buck. He heard the tail end of whatever insult the ladies' man had just dropped on one of the groups…something about "wandering into a meeting of the women's temperance union." Three men instantly stood up to face Buck, who chuckled and simply turned his back and walked to another group. Shaking his head, Chris ducked into the tent after the older Fishman.

Jeb, who'd been napping inside, looked up blearily as his brother walked in with a man who, for a strange dreamlike moment, he thought was the shade of Death himself.

Buck, meanwhile, had definitely done his work. Everyone was watching him now, including Murdock and Miguel, the former with some nervousness. The captain had heard some of the things Buck had said to the hired gunmen and it reminded him of Hannibal's usual repartee which, when you're alone with nineteen large men with guns, was not a good thing. He almost didn't notice when the tail end of a rope, knotted into a harness, was lowered down next to them.

"You girls want something?" Buck asked his audience, drawing himself back towards the big tent. He had the nastiest smirk on his face, like someone who knows the punchline to a joke and wasn't about to share it. He had eight men circling him, while the others watched from the sidelines, theirs hands on their rifles.

BA, Vin and JD hauled Miguel up the rockface, managing to pull the small boy up in just a few jerks. As soon as he was up, JD had the two of them on Bonnie's back, heading as fast they could down to the convent.

Buck meanwhile, was finally starting to get nervous. His smirk faltered slightly, which he hid by smoothing his moustache. He was at the front of the tent now, aware that he was within just a feet of the remuda where they'd left Gray and Solon. He took another step back…and hit a wall.

Of course, technically, 6 foot 7 inches worth of muscle was not a wall…it was more like a mountain. Buck twisted, saw the expression of the enormous man looking down at him, and gave a weak smile. Buck was 6'3" -- he rarely if ever had to look up at anyone, and, as his eyes lifted upwards, he decided that was a good thing.

"Hiya," he greeted, "My…you're a big one, aren't you? Tell me, how do you find clothes that fit? I mean, you'd need a tent instead of a co..oooooh!" The mountain had twisted him the rest of the way around and had two enormous meaty fists on his lapels, lifting Buck up off the ground. The other gunmen were grinning evilly, enjoying the show.

"You're a worm-tongue," the mountain accused, "and I don't like you."

"Well," Buck sucked in a breath, something he was finding pretty hard to do, "I…do like me…so….could you…put…me down…please?"

The mountain smiled, lifted Buck higher, then tossed him away like a sack of feed. The ladies' man landed in the hands of three men, One of which grabbed him in a headlock while the other two took his arms. The mountain pulled back a meaty fist, still smiling.

"Now…hold him tight boys," the mountain ordered. Chuckles emanated from the others.

"Gah," Buck struggled for air, straining to muster enough to gasp: "Wah…wait…wait!"

"Why?" the mountain asked.

"Be…cause …prisoner….es…cape…." Buck's eyes were watering, and the edge of his vision was getting dark. Mountain looked to his right, as did the rest of the crowd.

BA was helping Murdock to his feet, both men looking as if they were trying to be as quiet as possible. As soon as they realized they'd been spotted, BA lifted a gun to point at the crowd. At almost the same time, the hired gunslingers pulled their own weapons and Buck was dropped, forgotten. The ladies' man started crawled out of the throng, headed towards his horse, stopping only a moment to suck in a deep breath through his bruised throat and straighten his red bandanna. No one noticed.

"Don't move!" one of the gunslingers shouted at BA. The sergeant gave a small smile, clearly not intending to…including not dropping his gun.

"Men, drop your weapons!" Andy Fishman's voice shouted from behind the gunslingers. "Let them go!"

This confused the entire group, until they turned to see Chris Larabee holding Jeb Fishman tight to his chest, the younger brother's hands tied in front of him and Chris Larabee's peacemaker pressed against the side of his head. Andrew Fishman had a black-eye and his hands were also tied where he stood next to them. He looked feverishly at his hired men, "I said DROP them!"

The gunslingers looked at each other, then dropped their guns.

"Hands in the air," Chris ordered quietly. He started backing away, Jeb still in his grip. The younger brother whimpered as he was pulled along. The hired guns raised their hands slowly.

In the background, BA and Murdock disappeared into the forest, heading towards where BA had tethered Van.

Buck had reached Gray, jumping up onto the horse's back and, grabbing Solon's reins, pulled the big black over to where Chris and Jeb were standing.

The ladies' man pulled out his gun and held it on the now unarmed group as Chris turned and pushed Jeb up onto the saddle and then mounted up behind him. Soon, they were riding away around the boulders and trees, heading for the trail down.

As soon as they couldn't see them anymore, one of the hired guns ran up with a knife to untie Andy Fishman, who's face was now about the same color as his hair.

"What the hell are you waiting for!" he shouted, nearly apoplectic as his hands came loose. "Get after them! I want them dead! All of them!"

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chris pulled to a stop at the head of the trail down to the convent and dumped Jeb Fishman on the ground. The younger brother moaned but didn't complain as he watched the black-clad gunslinger spur his horse into a gallop after the moustached man on the gray horse.

He managed to push himself into a sitting position, confused at the fact that they'd left him behind. He'd thought he would be a hostage….

He frowned.

He was still frowning when he heard the gallop of hooves behind him. Turning, he struggled to his feet and smiled as his brother and the rest of the hired guns emerged out of the trees to converge on his position.

Andy jumped off his horse, grabbing a knife from his saddle.

"You all right?" he asked, cutting Jeb's bonds. The younger brother nodded. "Then come on," Andy said, grabbing his arm. "We're going after ‘em, and, this time, I ain't gonna let any of ‘em go, especially not the lying bastard calling himself Chris Larabee….."

+ + + + + + +

"Here's Mr. Dunne," Ezra muttered to himself, straightening as he saw JD doing his best to run through the mire in the back of the convent with Miguel on his back. He'd tethered Bonnie at the place they'd chosen in advance, a place well outside the range of what was about to happen, all of them knowing better than to try to make the horses cross the mud. The kid's face was getting red from carrying the boy, stopping once to shift Miguel higher, but he was determined. Carrying the boy was faster than trying to make him run through the mud himself.

Ezra's eyes narrowed as JD got closer and he could see the state of his purple jacket…was it his imagination, or did it look a little off-color?

Suddenly, JD tripped and fell face down into the muck, unable to catch himself. Ezra winced, watching as Miguel slipped off JD's back and JD pushed himself up on his arms, shaking his head to loosen the mud out of his face and hair. His entire front looked like an oil slick.

"It's just mud," Ezra muttered to himself, trying not to think about his jacket and focus on their safety as JD stood up, picked up Miguel again, and started jogging more cautiously to the back door of the convent. "Just a little mud, it'll be okay…."

Standing guard at another window, Nathan heard the mantra and had to bite his lip not to say anything.

+ + + + + + +

Murdock was grinning, his arms gripped around BA's middle, music ringing in his ears. The sergeant was too busy guiding Van to notice, but the captain was humming the theme song he'd made up. The horse, oddly, seemed to be running in time with the music and it almost seemed to spur Van to even greater speed….

+ + + + + + +

Buck had to say he was impressed. He could see BA and Murdock well ahead of him, that huge horse carrying them both as fast…if not faster…than he was moving on Gray. The sergeant's horse was clearly not a normal horse. Thoughts of Bellerophon and Pegasus came to mind.

Still, it pissed him off. Mythological creature or not, that Van wasn't faster than his Gray.

"Hyah!" he shouted, standing up in the stirrups and hanging over Gray's neck. "Come on, boy….you're not going to let that huge black embarrass you now, are you?"

Chris, not far behind, imitated Buck's movements, and spurred Solon to greater speed as Buck started to get away from him.

+ + + + + + +

"And here come the rest of them," Ezra said, standing up straighter as he recognized Murdock and BA run on foot out of the woods. A second later, Buck appeared behind them, turning a few times to look for someone…and then there was Chris. All four men ran as fast as possible across the muck, Chris and Buck both with their guns out. The mud slowed them all considerably, forcing them to an awkward jog.

A noise from behind him had Ezra looking around as a very muddy JD half fell into the room, the boy Miguel right behind him.

"Get him under cover!" Ezra shouted. JD nodded at the order, and pushed Miguel to one of the cots, telling him to get under it. Hannibal had just finished lying Face on the floor, though the conman had tried half-heartedly to say he was well enough to help. The colonel just grinned, told Face to stuff a sock in it, and grabbed two rifles from off the floor where they'd stocked them. Nodding at Ezra and Nathan, he turned and jogged out the door to meet BA and Murdock downstairs.

Nathan wondered if he should go with them, to check on the captain, though Murdock had looked all right when he was running. He had his answer when he saw the movement of a large group of men riding through the trees in the distance, moving swiftly down the hillside. Pulling back the catch on his rifle, he set the weapon against his shoulder and sighted down the length.

JD ran up to Ezra's window, then looked at the gambler. "Where do you want me?"

Ezra glanced at him and shut his eyes a moment as he finally had his first real look at the purple jacket. Swallowing bravely, he mastered his emotions enough to gruffly state: "With Josiah…in the other room."

JD nodded, gave a quick salute, and left.

A shuddering sigh ran the length of the gambler's frame.

His purple jacket….

He was going to kill him. Slowly.

+ + + + + + +

Hannibal grabbed Murdock's arm, looking him in the eyes as he asked, "You all right captain?"

"Sure thing colonel," Murdock replied, grabbing one of the rifles, the captain's eyes sparkling with pumped up adrenaline. "Wrists are torn up some, and I'm running on no sleep, but I'm doing well enough for now."

Hannibal nodded, glad, and tossed the other rifle to BA. Chris, overhearing, grimaced, wishing his men were that straightforward when they were hurt. Hannibal had clapped Murdock's shoulder again, and grinned as he asked:

"Feel up to roof duty? Bat in the belfry?"

Murdock gave a wicked smile and saluted. Hannibal nodded and looked at Chris, "And your men, are they…?"

"All fine," Chris stated. "And your lieutenant?"

"Better, thanks to your Nathan."

Chris opened his mouth to reply when Ezra's voice shouted "They're coming!" from somewhere upstairs. At almost the same time, Hannah released a scream that could have shattered glass, and all five men jumped.

+ + + + + + +

"Calm her down!" Josiah demanded, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I'm trying!" Antonia retorted, gripping Hannah in a tight hug. Josiah's sister was trying to pull away, but Antonia held her close, making soothing noises. Frances sat on the other side, kneeling on the floor where they'd just tried to convince Hannah to lie down. Ezra's shout had terrified Hannah, the fear and strength in his voice hitting an old nerve.

She let out another scream so piercing Antonia thought she'd go deaf, and Frances covered her ears, tears running down her face.

Josiah's eyes were manic as he knew he couldn't leave his post. Any minute now, they'd start firing, and what would Hannah do then? He looked over at JD, who was manning another window, and noticed the kid was doing his best to pretend nothing out of the ordinary was happening. He stayed focused on the men who were now hanging just out of site at the edge of the woods on the hill.

The door to the room banged open, and BA and Buck pushed into the room, the ladies' man joining Josiah at his window, a rifle in his hand. BA glanced at the women as he moved to case another window, and Josiah risked looking away from the trees again at his sister, hoping he wouldn't have to do something drastic like tie her up.

His mouth dropped as he saw Hannah smiling. She was looking at BA, who was checking his rifle to make sure it was properly loaded.

BA looked up, saw Hannah smiling at him, and gave a half-hearted smile in return. Then he looked at Antonia and Frances.

"Why aren't the three of you under cover?" he asked.

Antonia was about to answer, when Hannah spoke.

"Do you see?" she asked, looking straight at the sergeant. "Josiah came. I told you he'd come. That's him there," she glanced at Josiah, frowned a little, then smiled as she looked at BA again.

BA frowned, but nodded, not looking in the least surprised that she had addressed him directly. Josiah covered up his open mouth with his hand. He hadn't heard her speak directly to anyone since…since...he couldn't remember.

"Yes, ma'am," BA said. "You were right."

Her smile blossomed into a grin. Then she tilted her head, "Is he helping you?" she asked.

"Yes, but, ma'am, look, some men are about to attack this place," the sergeant stated. "There will be lots of very loud gunfire and you need to be under cover," he indicated the beds. Hannah nodded.

"Oh," she said, looking around, vaguely puzzled, "okay…."

"Hannah," BA said, "now, please, lie down now."

"Lie down now," Hannah repeated. She looked at Antonia and Frances and smiled. They in turn looked at her like she'd sprung two heads, but, when Josiah's sister proceeded to lie down on the floor, her arms wrapping around a pillow they'd laid down there, they decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Antonia placed herself next to Hannah, resting a hand on the other woman's arm while Frances lay down opposite them so she could watch Hannah's face. Josiah's sister shut her eyes, readying herself for the "loud gunfire."

BA nodded, then turned to look at where JD and Buck were both watching out the windows, rifles resting in the crook of their shoulders. He grimaced when he saw Josiah just staring at him.

"Something the matter, preacher?"

"Yes…no," Josiah said, swallowing, "I…."

"Can we talk about this later?" Buck interrupted. "We're about to get company!"

As if on cue, the first rifle fire from the trees bombarded the convent.

PART IX

Chapter Thirty

Ezra, Nathan and Chris fell back, holding their rifles close as bullets splintered the wooden window frames and ricocheted off the edges of the adobe walls, spraying dust and bits of wall into the room like so much glittering confetti. They heard the women's involuntary screams in the next room, and Miguel curled himself into a tight ball under his small bed.

Hannibal merely leaned against the wall he'd chosen to rest on between two of the windows, lighting his cigar, as calm as can be.

Chris glanced at him, then sighed and looked at Ezra and Nathan. The gambler gave a quick nod and Nathan grimaced. At the same time, all three men swung around and fired a volley of rifle shots at the woods, well aware that they were about as likely to hit something as the men in the woods were going to hit them. It was all about luck at this stage.

Accompanying rifle echoed fire from the adjoining room, where Josiah, JD and Buck and BA were also sending their own bullets into the mix.

Hannibal took several puffs on his cigar and looked upwards.

+ + + + + + +

Murdock sat in the small belfry, testing the stretch of the large "sling shot" Hannibal had jimmied together. Heaven knew where he'd gotten the rubber, which was about as flexible as a woman's corset. The colonel had fixed it to the wall, and Murdock was grimacing. The colonel had really needed him there to make the contraption perfect…this sort of thing was the captain's specialty…but, he supposed, with a little effort, it would do.

Carefully, trying to remain unseen as the rifle fire impacted the convent wall below his feet, he picked up one of Hannibal's bottle bombs, lit the rag sticking out of the top with a cigar the colonel had leant him, and rested it in the sling shot's cradle. Pulling back, he gritted his teeth…and let go.

The bottle flew about two feet before falling straight down into the courtyard below and shattering, the wick going out as it did so.

He made a pitiful little squeak of dismay as he looked over the edge, hoping Hannibal hadn't seen that.

Not the most auspicious of starts.

"Okay, maybe I need to work up to it," he said to himself. He closed his eyes and started to hum the tune he'd created. As he got going, his face transformed, smiling broadly as he started tapping it time. He wished he'd thought of words to go with it but, even as it was, it was damn catchy….

Dum dee dum…dun dun dun….Dum deet dee dum…da dumdumdum dee! Dum DUM DUM…DUM DEE DUM…." He didn't even notice that he'd gotten progressively louder as he put another bottle in the slingshot, and, not caring whether they could see him from the woods anymore, he pulled back as far as he could, bracing his legs against the wall….

And let go on the first major downbeat.

The bottle flew far, over the swamp and into the woods. Murdock laughed as a mini-explosion rocked the trees, and began singing again. He heard men yelp and horses squeal in the background, but they were merely counterpoints to his musical genius. Without even realizing, Murdock had another set up, launching it into the trees again, laughing in between refrains of what he decided was a really, really great song.

+ + + + + + +

Both Ezra and Chris looked upwards as Murdock's awful singing and his laughter echoed down to them, while the explosions in the woods seemed to match the beat he'd created. Ezra looked at Chris, not hiding the alarm on his face.

"Is he nuts?!" he demanded. "What is he singing?"

Hannibal had his eyes closed, the smile on his face deepening. Face, meanwhile, had raised his hands in the air from where he was lying down, as if he were conducting. His own voice had softly joined the captain's, adding a nice harmony.

Chris's eyes met Ezra's, an odd look on his face. He nodded at Ezra and mouthed, "Yes. They are all nuts."

"No, Mr. Larabee, we're not crazy," Hannibal said, opening his eyes, which made Chris flinch slightly. How had the colonel known….? "I think we're just releasing a little pent up energy. Are you saying that you and your men don't?"

"Uh, well…."

"You should get yourselves a theme song," Face said from his position on the floor, his voice seeming to come from a great distance. "Something to get your heart racing…."

"We don't need a song to do that," Nathan muttered, glad that Murdock's distraction had stopped the slew of bullets from the woods, "believe me…."

"What is a theme song?" Ezra asked, curious despite himself as Murdock repeated his refrain and another explosion was heard.

"A song to define who you are…that people think of and sing when they see you…that can inspire and keep you going…." Face started humming again as he finished. The explosions were coming more rapidly now…Hannibal had been counting them, getting slightly concerned that the captain would run out before they could flush out the men from the trees into the open.

"Nathan, can you see what they're doing?" Chris asked, once more echoing the colonel's thoughts. The healer's window looked more towards the hillside than his.

"No…not really," the healer replied, risking leaning a little further out his window.

"So, you think we need a theme song?" Ezra asked Face. Chris rolled his eyes.

"You already have one," Face replied, his voice very weak now, "you just don't know it….And, someday…they'll shoot off fireworks…with your theme song in the background…at a Fourth of July celebration…as a remembrance of the Magnificent Seven…."

"Oh for…." Chris stopped himself just before swearing, as if he'd just remembered he was in a convent, but he was really beginning to hate that nickname, "Ezra, focus!"

"Murdock will find it for you…he's…very good…at it…." Face muttered. His eyes were closed again.

"They're coming out of the woods!" Nathan said suddenly. "It worked!"

+ + + + + + +

In the other room, BA had unconsciously started humming along with Murdock as he watched the men in the trees. He could see the horses most clearly, running around, wanting to get into the open.

He didn't notice the three members of the Seven watching him, expression ranging from curiosity to (and this was Buck) serious unease for the sergeant's state of mind.

The bottle bombs had stopped the rifle fire from the woods, which is part of what allowed them to see and hear everything going on out there, including the angry commands of Andy Fishman. But the purpose had been to drive the gunmen out into the open and into the mud.

"Come on out little fishies," JD whispered, looking back outside. "Come on out…."

Buck gave the kid a smile, and turned his own attention to the woods.

Murdock gave a very loud peal of what, in a normal song, would probably be the drumroll, and another bottle bomb flew into the trees.

"That did it!" Josiah said, standing up straighter.

Sure enough, men spilled out into the open, but they weren't stupid.

They were using their horses as cover.

Fishman's men had all dismounted and were pushing the horses into the mud in front of them, staying behind them as best the could, two men per horse. As soon as they were in the open, one of the pair would start firing again at the convent over their horse's back, while the other kept the frightened horse from running, guiding the animal towards the convent's outer wall.

Bullets started hitting the convent walls again, though they were even more poorly aimed than before. Still, Buck found himself nearly blinded as a lucky shot broke off a chunk of wall near his head.

"Fuh…uh…dge!" Buck bit the inside of his cheek as he saw Frances peek up at him from under one of the cots. He'd have to think of more innocent swear words.

"How can they do that!" JD shouted, almost firing but checking himself because he was afraid to hit one of the horses. "Those poor things! They can't bring them across the muck! What if they get stuck?"

"They don't care," BA muttered.

"That's what makes them the bad guys, kid," Buck added.

"Yeah, I know," JD grimaced. "I'm going to look forward to beating the shi…uh," he glanced at the women, "beating them soundly," he finished.

Buck grinned, and looked back outside.

"Fire over their heads," Josiah suggested. "At least keep them down."

+ + + + + + +

"Fire over their heads," Chris said, then he looked up, "though I think they're mostly focusing on our singing rooster upstairs. We need to give him cover."

Ezra nodded, sending a handful of shots over the heads of the closest gunmen as they inched closet to the convent's back walls. And they were getting closer. The horse's couldn't move fast, but they were definitely being pushed to get the Fishman's hired guns to the high surrounding back wall and behind a better cover. He grinned as a couple of his shots caused one horse to rear and break free of the hold they had on it, the poor creature skidding and sliding as it tried to gallop away, back to the woods. The two men scrambled for the wall as bullets picked at the mud around them.

Ezra's shots were rewarded with four times as many shots sent back at him, the bullets slamming into the edge of the window where he'd just stood. Suddenly he yelped as a bullet scraped his right arm, and he fell back into greater safety, gripping his arm. Blood flowed freely down the white shirt from beneath his fingers. Nathan made a move to check on him, but Ezra shook his head at him, then rested his head back against the wall, breathing through the stinging pain. The healer frowned, then ducked as bullets impacted his window frame, the gunmen having seen his shadow as well.

"You all right?" Chris asked the gambler quickly, concerned. Ezra frowned, opening his mouth to answer with his usual customary ‘fine,' when Chris's face darkened and he interrupted him: "And no one word replies, Ezra; I want a real answer!"

Ezra looked surprised for a moment. Then the gambler's face slipped into a strange grin. Chris's eyes narrowed.

"And no novels!" the gunslinger stated. "Ten words or less! If Smith's men can do it, so can you!" In the background, Hannibal gave a wry grin as Ezra frowned at the command.

Bullets slammed into the frame again, and both men had to duck. Hannibal and Nathan, in their windows, sent a volley of shots outwards, while, from the other room, they could hear the others doing the same.

Once the focus was off their side of the building again, Ezra arched a sardonic eyebrow at Chris. "Well then, as commanded, sir, ten words or less: Bullet grazed my arm. Painful but shallow. I'll be fine. Sufficient, oh great leader?" The scornful tone was as thick as a slab of lard.

Chris looked at him, gave a wicked smile, then took out his irritation with the gambler's attitude by emptying the rest of his rifle out the window. His fire frightened another horse into running, which made him grin even as the gunmen now focused their fire on his position, rattling the whole wall. Much better, he mentally patted himself. He didn't need a theme song, he just needed Ezra to goad him.

Nathan was chuckling as he threw Ezra a bandage from a small bowl near Face's bed, then added his fire to the others. However it was delivered, Ezra's response was still much more useful than "fine."

Chapter Thirty-One

Murdock cowered inside the little belfry, his hands covering his ears. He'd used almost all the bottle bombs, but was aware his "job" wasn't done yet. He was supposed to be discouraging the gunmen from trying to get round to the front of the convent, so they wouldn't try to attack through the front doors…but he was having a bit of trouble with said job. He heard the retorts of the rifles of the men in the convent trying to give him cover, but he'd been unable to even put a hand up to reach the sling shot perched on the wall without nearly having it shot off.

"C'mon Murdock," he muttered, "Stop hiding!"

Sending a quick prayer to the muses, he stuck his head up and looked out at the back.

A hail of bullets welcomed him, even ringing the single bell above his head several times as if to mock him. It was a horrible clamor, and he was instantly curled up again in a ball, hands over his ears.

"Okay…not my best moment," he laughed weakly.

Still, from what he could tell, all of the Fishman brother's men appeared to be in back. That was something. Right? He fingered the white signal cloth in his hand. They'd just have to keep their fingers crossed.

+ + + + + + +

"Murdock's not going to be able to keep an eye on them from up there," Hannibal muttered, as the ringing bell echoed downwards. "We're going to have to have someone else watching the front." The problem with the front of the convent was that there were no windows on the second floor facing front. Whoever watched the front would have to do it from the front door, which wouldn't give them much cover or warning if attacked.

"I can do it!" Miguel said from under his cot. He stuck his head up, and tried a weak smile.

"No," Chris and Hannibal said together. The kid frowned, and ducked back down, a serious sulk on his face.

"What about one of the others?" Hannibal asked, looking at Chris. The gunslinger frowned. He didn't want to take anyone who could handle a rifle out of the top windows here in back. When the colonel's eyes rested on Ezra, who was sitting on the floor, wrapping his arm in the bandage. Chris grimaced, he didn't want to send Ezra if he was wounded.

"I can do it," Face said suddenly, opening his eyes and pushing himself upwards, one hand wrapping around to hold his bandage in place as he rolled onto his side. "Just…just give me a gun." Hannibal frowned, but Chris nodded, looking at the colonel.

"If he can…."

"No!" Hannibal glared at his lieutenant, "You're staying down, you hear me!"

Face frowned, "But…."

"This argument is pointless," Nathan said suddenly where he was reloading his rifle, his eyes watching out the window. "Because the Fishmans' are lined up against the back wall. We've run out of time no matter how you look at it."

Chris and Hannibal looked at each other then back out the windows, only just noticing that the firing had stopped, and Ezra, who'd just finished tying the bandage around his arm with his teeth, pulled out his colt and remington. No need for a rifle if the gunmen were that close.

"Ezra," Chris said, his voice soft now, "Go watch the front."

The gambler looked at the gunslinger, eyebrows raised, "But…."

"It's either you or Nathan," Chris said, "and we'll need Nathan up here, if anyone else gets hurt."

The gambler grimaced, but nodded. With a sigh, he tucked his guns and ran to the door and down.

"You could have had one of the men in the other room go," Hannibal said.

Chris shook his head, "I don't want to leave the sisters with any fewer guardians than they have now…just in case something goes wrong. Besides, I haven't heard anything from Hannah for a while…I don't want to risk upsetting whatever is keeping her calm."

Hannibal shrugged, and gave an understanding nod. Then he turned his attention back to the outside. He saw the horses' being pushed away from the men now hidden behind the wall.

"Well," the colonel muttered, "All the pawns are in place…."

Chapter Thirty-Two

Andrew Fishman leaned against the peach colored wall, reloading his rifle. He glanced to the left and the right at his men, slightly amazed that none of them had been hit. He watched as they pushed their horses away, and the animals slogged slowly back through the muck to the woods, leaving only the men at the outer wall. A quick mental count showed that all fifteen men he'd had with him and his brother were still here, all now ready to attack the back of the convent on his orders. The other four should be circling around to the front now, to discourage anyone trying to escape that way. He smiled wryly – this was decidedly not how he had planned all this too happen.

Oh well. The smile deepened.

His only worry was over what had happened to the men he'd sent to watch the dam and the convent. Why hadn't those men joined them when they came down the hill?

Still, if they'd run, it didn't matter. He had more than enough power with him. He still had all his pieces on the board….This was check.

Several of his men had pulled the torches they'd had attached to their saddles and were wrapping rags around the ends, soaking them with alcohol.

And soon, checkmate.

"Mother Superior!" He shouted. "Sister Ethel! Are you there?"

No one responded, and he pursed his lips.

"What do you want?" a timid female voice called. Andy frowned…that didn't sound like Ethel.

"I want to talk to Ethel!"

"Sister Ethel's busy!" the voice answered, stressing the title. "This is Sister Antonia!"

Andy shrugged, "No problem, Antonia, you'll do! You can tell Ethel and your fellow nuns a warning for me! If you and the sisters don't give up the men hiding in there with you, none of you will ever come out of there alive. Is that clear?"

Silence answered him, and Andy gave a small smile.

"Fishman!" That was Colonel Hannibal Smith's voice.

Andy smiled, "Colonel Smith! How's your man? The conman? Is he dead yet?"

"You'll soon find out," Hannibal yelled back, a distinct growl in his tone. "If you and your men don't drop your weapons now and surrender, you'll be able to ask Saint Peter himself!"

Andy chuckled, smiling down at Jeb, who was cowered against the wall next to him, his rifle locked and loaded. The younger brother smiled back.

"Oh, really?" Andy called back. "And how will you manage that? You're stuck in a convent with twenty women, a handful of gunslingers and a dead man. The bottle bombs were a nice touch, but all they did was bring us closer to you. We're all still very much alive and very much armed….And we have our own ways of making fire!"

Again, there was no response, and Andy's smile deepened.

"What's the matter, colonel? Cat got your tongue?" he called. "Give it up!"

"Fishman!" another voice called, "Are you threatening to burn us out?"

Andy's eyebrows lifted, and he nodded. "Ah, the gunslinger! Tell me, are you really the Chris Larabee?"

"In the flesh," Chris replied coolly. "And I'd change my mind if I were you."

"Indeed, arson, added to the crimes you've already racked up, won't bode well at your trial, Mr. Fishman," a new voice shouted, this one with a southern drawl.

"Should we allow you to live that long, of course," a deeper voice added. Andy recognized it as the wormtongue's – Larabee's friend Buck.

"We're the law of Four Corners and you're all under arrest!" another, younger voice yelled from the convent. "Lay down your arms and surrender now!"

"Surrender?" Andy called. "I think you have that backwards, kid!"

"You'd best listen to the boy," a deep bass voice called. Andy raised both eyebrows. How many men did Smith and Larabee have in there? He frowned.

"So, you say you're the law of Four Corners? Well, then you're out of your jurisdiction Larabee, besides which, I always thought consorting with criminals was illegal as well. You gonna arrest Smith, Peck and Baracus while you're at it?"

Inside, Chris's couldn't help a smirk as Hannibal sighed next to him. The gunslinger drew in a deep breath.

"This is your last warning, Fishman. We won't tell you again."

Andy shook his head, "Oh yeah? Give me one good reason!"

"Lay ‘em down," Chris said, "and we might let you live."

Andy laughed, "I don't care how many men you've got penned up in there with you, Larabee…. You'll all burn the same way!" Andy pointed to the five men holding torches. They nodded, pulled out matches and lit them.

"Last chance Sisters!" Andy yelled. "Can't believe you'd die for these men!"

"Oh, go stuff yourself!" Antonia shouted, which shout made Andy laugh out loud.

Inside the convent, all the men had smirks on their faces as Antonia sat red faced on the floor, embarrassed by her outburst. Hannah was even giggling, which, more than anything, made Josiah grin. The preacher trained his rifle, feeling good for the first time since Hannibal had shown up in Four Corners.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra was just inside the front door, watching the front wall and gate for movement. He had a gun in each hand, though his Remington felt inordinately heavy in his right hand. In fact, his whole right arm felt weak, but he was not all that concerned. He was a better shot with his left in any event, and Chris knew that.

A shadow fell on the ground just outside the front gate.

The gambler lifted the colt in his left hand ….

+ + + + + + +

"I think, maybe, now?" Chris suggested, looking at Hannibal. The colonel pursed his lips.

"You think they're deep enough?"

"Why, you want them in the courtyard? Maybe at the door? Throwing flaming torches into the convent?"

"That'd be more spectacular. A real last minute miracle save."

Chris stared at him, trying to decide whether or not to take him seriously. Hannibal continued to puff on his cigar, oblivious.

"You need to live life to the fullest, Larabee. Experience the thrill of…."

"Colonel Smith," there was something very curt about the way Chris said that name. Hannibal stopped talking and looked at him, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"Order it now, or I will personally escort you to the nearest fort, unconscious if need be." His eyebrows lowered, turning his eyes into darkened slits, "and I can do it, as you well know."

Hannibal sighed, and shook his head. "You have no flair for the dramatic, Larabee. Heroic actors such as ourselves should learn to savor…."

"COLONEL SMITH."

"Oh," Hannibal sniffed, "all right. Take all the fun out of it why don't you."

+ + + + + + +

"Now!" Fishman yelled.

All nine of Fishman's men pushed through the iron gate or threw each other over the back wall, most shooting without aiming at the second floor windows. All they had to do was get the men with the torches close enough to the convent windows and the open, broken back door….

+ + + + + + +

"MURDOCK!" Hannibal shouted, "NOW!"

Up in the belfry, Murdock jerked awake, having somehow drifted off into whatever land he sometimes disappeared into. Quickly, he lifted the white cloth in his hands and attached it to the bell. Then, grabbing the rope, he pressed one hand against one ear and started ringing the bell over and over again.

+ + + + + + +

Buck, BA, Josiah, JD finally allowed their true abilities to take over, systematically forcing man after man that came through the gate or over the wall to duck and cover, and taking some of them down. In the other room, Chris, Nathan and Hannibal mirrored them. Andy Fishman's hired guns were quickly being reduced in numbers.

+ + + + + + +

Hiding within the front door, Ezra fired at the four shadows that had appeared over the walls and through the gate, losing himself in the moment, determined not to let one of them pass inside.

+ + + + + + +

Standing up on the ridge in the distance, Vin Tanner grinned at the ringing bell and lowered his spyglass…the white cloth was easy to see even with the naked eye.

"Finally!"

Turning, he knelt on the ground and, using a boulder he'd scouted earlier as his level, sighted down the barrel of his rifle. He breathed out slowly, and…ever so gently…squeezed the trigger.

The bullet hit the bundle of dynamite dead center....

The dam above the convent in Vista City exploded for the second time in two weeks in a massive shower of flame, sparks and rushing water.

PART X

Chapter Thirty-Three

As they had just a little while before, the townsfolk ran out of their homes and stores, eyes trained on the convent sitting on the plain below. For a while now they'd been ignoring the gunfire in the distance, pretending it wasn't happening, that the sisters were not in danger and that everything that was happening was all for the best.

But this…for them to blow it again….

"My God, my God, my God!" Mrs. Crabapple had both hands over his mouth now, her small eyes as wide as grapes inside her rotund walnut-like face. "They've done it again! They've blown it up again!"

"They shouldn't have tried rebuilding it in the first place," Mr. Cortland stated, though he didn't manage to sound entirely convinced.

"What if this time one of the nuns does die, huh?" Mrs. Cox grabbed Mr. Gravestein's arm. "What if the Fishman's have killed one of them? What'll we do? Making ‘em go is one thing…but you don't kill a nun!"

As before, the released water rushed down the hillside, moving even faster this time down the channels it had formed before. Gallons upon gallons flooded the plain, aiming unerringly for the convent…and for the people who would be trapped inside.

"What were we thinking?" Mr. Flax moaned, his hands on his head. "What have we done, allowing this to happen?"

"Where's the sheriff?" Mr. Baldwin exclaimed, turning around. "Where's Cotton?"

"Probably with Duval!" Mrs. Crabapple said, with an abruptly acidic tone. "They've done sold their souls, they have! Why did we listen?!"

"What'll we do!" Mrs. Cox continued to pull on Mr. Gravestein's arm, her repeated refrain getting louder. "What'll we do? If one of the sisters dies….will we all go to hell?"

None of the townsfolk had an answer for her. Like spectators at a march that had just gone horribly wrong, they watched as the water headed for the convent like a growing tidal wave, .

"What's is happening here," a stern voice asked from the back of the crowd. "Why aren't you people doing something to help them?"

Mr. Flax turned and his eyes lifted slowly to look up at the men on horseback flanking them. There were perhaps fifteen men and a handful of women staring down at the gathered townsfolk, all looking very competent with the rifles they carried. The one who had spoken was a older man with silvery-gray hair and a long white handlebar moustache.

"Because," a young woman said, riding out from behind him, "they did this."

"Donata?" Mrs. Crabapple said, recognizing the girl. "What…Who…?"

"My name is Hugo Block, madam," the silver haired man answered, "and we're here to help the men at the convent though…" he paused, looking up to look down at the structure, "We may be too late."

+ + + + + + +

The explosion shook the ground, and the hired guns staggered in surprise at the booming sound that spread over the whole plain. Andy and Jeb Fishman turned around, mouths falling open as what had just happened registered.

"They've blown their dam!" Andy yelled.

"Now you get to see it from this end!" Hannibal shouted from overhead, not hiding the amusement in his tone. "And if I were you, I'd run!"

Andy looked up at the window, catching sight of the white haired colonel and the blond gunslinger framed in the windows. Both men were smiling, and Hannibal saluted. From somewhere deep inside him, a growl erupted from Andrew Fishman's throat, and he cocked his pistol, aiming at the windows.

"No Andy!" Jeb yelled, catching his brother's shooting arm before he could fire. "We don't have the time! We've got to get out of here!"

Andy's growl erupted in a roar, and he shoved his brother away. Jeb fell to the ground, staring up at his brother with hurt eyes. Then those same eyes hardened, and Jeb spat at him.

"Fine! Die! See if I care!" Getting back to his feet, Jeb ran back to the open gates out of the back courtyard, following the rest of the Fishman's hired guns as they all attempted to escape the flood heading for them.

Andy stared back up at the men laughing at him from the second floor, then ran after his brother, yelling at him to wait.

+ + + + + + +

Buck held his rifle close, eyes narrowing as he trailed the gunmen slogging through the mud. He clicked his tongue as two fell face-down, while another slipped and ended up on his back.

On the other side, JD fingered the mud still in his own hair.

"Not going to make it, are they?" he deadpanned, hand falling back to his rifle.

"Nope," Buck replied.

"God may be merciful," Josiah said, "and so might man…." His eyes lifted to onrushing deluge, "but Mother Nature's a bitch."

"Josiah!" Antonia chastised.

The preacher grinned roguishly. Someone had to do it.

"Why do I still here gunshots?" Frances asked timidly. "Is someone still firing?"

+ + + + + + +

The mud was too deep, too slick. The gunmen that had jumped over the wall and run through the back gate found their footing slowed by the uneven, sticky ground. What had seemed an inconvenience before was now a severe obstacle, preventing them from doing anything more than stumble around as the water surged towards, unstoppable.

Men tried to use each other for purchase, climbing over the ones who fell, using them as stepping blocks, but it was useless. Some turned and tried to run back to the convent, perhaps to find some safety behind the back wall, or even get inside…but by now even the distance back to the courtyard was too far. The broken back door and open back windows suddenly seemed impossibly far away….

Andy Fishman fell back as the first wave hit the men furthest from him, engulfing them. They disappeared under the onrush, unable to keep their balance in the molasses like earth against the weight of gallons of water.

+ + + + + + +

Chris leaned back, still smiling, when the report of gunfire turned his head. Why were Buck and the others still firing? Fishman was on the run….

Hannibal looked at him. He'd just heard the same thing, and the smile fell. The colonel's eyes narrowed as he understood what it was from.

"That's not rifle-fire, Chris," he hissed. "That's a colt's bark."

"Ezra!" Chris realized. Checking once more out the window to make sure that Fishman's men had indeed emptied back out of the courtyard, he turned and ran for the door.

+ + + + + + +

"Andy!" Jeb shrieked, turning and running back to his brother.

Andy skipped backwards, half jumping, half scrambling as he ignored his younger brother's cry. Every man for himself, he realized dumbly. He never saw the water that knocked his brother over, nor the waves that took down the rest of his hired guns like dead trees before a fierce wind. He staggered back into the courtyard and looked up at the windows. Someone stood in each of them, some carrying faces he knew, most not. They watched him without amusement now, just somberness. Hannibal Smith leaned out his window and glared down at him.

"Give my best wishes to the devil, Fishman," he spat.

Andy yelled in frustration, once again raising his gun to point at the colonel's smug face…

And the water slammed into his back, sending him to the hard flagstone floor of the courtyard and into blackness, his gun slipping from his fingers…he'd not even had the chance to pull back the hammer.

Hannibal put his cigar back in his mouth and nodded, "I do love it when a plan comes together."

+ + + + + + +

Ezra continued to fire upon the four shadows in the front courtyard from his position by the main doors, either ignoring or completely oblivious to what was happening around him. He couldn't move from his location without getting shot, and they couldn't move from theirs for the same reason. The gunfight was at a stalemate, as neither side could gain movement on the other.

"Ezra!" Chris came bounding down that stairs that led to the front door, "Ezra, didn't you hear the explosion?"

"The what?" Ezra sent three more shots into the courtyard and clicked on an empty chamber. Without losing momentum, he switched the colt in his left hand for the Remington sitting on the floor and made a couple more shots, while his nearly useless right hand started digging in his waistcoat pocket for more bullets. Shots smacked into the frame of the door by his head.

"The explosion! Vin blew the dam!" Chris shouted, leaning over the banister to look down the narrow hallway towards the backdoor.

Ezra stopped firing and looked up at Chris, green eyes flashing with sudden understanding. Time seemed to slow as he too looked behind him down the hallway.

The water slammed into the open doorway that led to the back courtyard, splintering the already battered frame and taking what was left of the door off its hinges. It swirled down the stone hallway, sweeping into the rooms it passed, turning into a waterfall as it found the stairs leading down to the basement stores below. It seemed to rise and grow like a living thing as it surged towards the front….

Ezra leapt for the stairs, risking exposure just as the first swell swept his position. The men out front seized the moment by sending a shower of bullets in his direction, having seen the white shirt as it dove past the open doorway.

And suddenly water erupted through the doors and around the sides of the convent, catching them mid motion…..

The gambler hit the stairs at a dive, grabbing for the banister with his right hand, but the numb fingers missed, unable to grip the slick wood. At the same moment, the rising torrent swept his legs, pulling his feet out from under him, and he fell harshly on the bottom step, the bone-jarring motion robbing him of his breath just as the water swallowed him up….

And suddenly an iron grip seized Ezra's left arm, lifting the gambler up and onto the stairs. Chris heaved, falling backwards so that he was practically sitting on the wooden steps, pulling Ezra up with him as he struggled higher, until he could get a grip around the man's torso and get him above the spinning, swirling, whirlpooling water as it wended its way through the rooms and out the front door.

Ezra just breathed, leaning back against the other man, unblinking eyes watching as bits of wood, mud and even what looked like a gun floated and eddied past, headed out into oblivion.

"How…how could you not hear the explosion?" Chris demanded suddenly, his grip still tight on the gambler as if afraid he'd slip away again.

Ezra blinked, then slowly began to chuckle, "I…I guess I took your order to focus a little too seriously," he suggested weakly. He shook his head, "All I could hear was the gunfire from Fishman's men who had gotten round front. There were four of them, I might mention." He smiled, and perhaps for the first time, noticed that he was leaning on the other man. Embarrassed, he tried to lift himself off.

About the same time, Chris noticed his grip, and abruptly let go. As Ezra slid over to sit on the stairs to the gunslinger's right, Chris lifted his hand to his face and grimaced. There was blood on his fingers.

"You're arm is bleeding again," he said weakly. "Bandage must have come loose."

"Oh," the gambler looked at his right arm, left hand lifting to retie the bandage, and frowned when he saw it was still tightly wound. Then, with the air of someone who just figured out the punchline to a bad joke, he looked at his left arm and groaned in annoyance.

Chris had leaned his head back on the steps, his eyes closed, taking a moment's rest to regain his control. He looked up again at the groan.

"What?" he asked.

"My right arm's not bleeding again," Ezra sighed.

"It's not?" Chris looked at him, and followed Ezra's eyes to his left arm. Blood was seeping liberally down the white sleeve.

"Someone apparently decided I needed a matching set," the gambler muttered, leaning his head against the wall.

For some strange reason, this made Chris laugh. "Well," he chuckled, "Guess you could say you earned your stripes this time."

This time Ezra's groan reached even Murdock up in the belfry.

"Hey boys," Buck called from the top of the stairs, looking down at Ezra and Chris with his rifle still resting on his hip, "Y'all right?"

Ezra sighed, wondering if the fact that he felt like someone had just crammed a fishbowl over his head meant he wasn't all right. He vaguely heard Chris answer Buck in the affirmative, before he felt the gunslinger's arms slide under his shoulders and lift him up to a standing position. He blinked blearily up at Buck….the ladies' man looked a little distorted…and very far away.

Oh shoot. He was going to faint, wasn't he. Frikkin' blood loss. A couple of unlucky shots to the arm and….

"Actually," Chris said as Ezra suddenly got heavier, "Buck…I think I could use a hand."

Chapter Thirty-Four

The water still swirling around and through the first floor of the convent added a strange, but oddly soothing background to the men still stationed on the second floor, waiting for it to die down.

"I feel a little like I'm on a ship," Buck said, leaning out of the window in the room with Face in it. "The creaking supports, the waves against the sides…if I close my eyes, I can imagine I'm on a riverboat headed up the wide Missouri…." He closed his eyes for a moment, a dreamy smile on his face.

Over on a nearby cot, Nathan finished tying the bandage around Ezra's left arm, while the gambler sat watching him with an unfocused gaze, his green eyes glazed. The healer then slowly pushed the gambler back down in order to lie on his back, which Ezra didn't have the energy to argue about. Instead, the gambler simply lifted up his right hand to cover his eyes, elbow pointing up, while his left – from which Nathan had actually pulled a bullet and discerned that Ezra had fractured his upper arm – was gently strapped to his chest.

Josiah sat at the head of the younger man's cot, and he lifted the Ezra's right hand off his face to set it down. The gambler didn't notice; he was asleep already. Interestingly, so was Hannah in the other room. The lapping water had had a soporific effect on her; she was sleeping on the floor, with Frances watching over her. The preacher smiled, enjoying the peace.

Nathan, meanwhile, had moved to take a peek at Face, to make sure the conman was also still sleeping soundly. After checking his bandage and his forehead, the healer looked up at Hannibal sitting on a nearby cot, and nodded. The colonel thanked him with a small smile.

"Awww," Buck said, turning around in the quiet room to look down at the two conmen. "Aren't they sweet. Innocent as babes."

"Ha," Nathan smiled. "Innocent as wolves in sheep's clothing."

"Yup," Buck agreed, grinning, "very true."

"They're going to be all right?" Hannibal asked the healer, his blue eyes trained on the steady rise and fall of his lieutenant's chest.

"Ezra will be fine in a couple of hours," Nathan replied. "Face, though, will take longer. I know that, when the sisters come back, we'll have to move him, and I don't even like that fact, not until I'm sure whatever is knitting itself in there is more knit than broke."

"I'd rather not move him into the town," Hannibal said, looking up. "They all know who he is; who we are. I don't imagine it will take long for one of them to wire the army to get the reward."

"Army is probably already on its way," Chris said, "if Mary got through to the judge."

Hannibal grimaced at the news, but nodded. Right.

"Don't worry," Chris said, lifting his eyes to meet the colonel's, "the army won't find you."

Hannibal's mouth lifted into a smile, "Why Mr. Larabee….are you actually thinking of not doing your duty?"

Chris's smile matched the colonel's, "What duty is that, colonel? As Fishman said, we're not in Four Corners."

Hannibal grinned, then chuckled, "so….that means, if we were to accompany you back to said town?"

"Then in that case, I'd have to say," Chris looked at his nails, "it depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you piss me off or not."

Hannibal laughed, and Chris looked back out the window to check the level of the water, a wry smile on his face.

"Water's going down," he said to the room at large. "Won't be long now."

PART XI – Conclusion

Chapter Thirty-Five

It probably took only about half an hour for the water to decrease to a level where it could be walked through. Some time after that, it was down to the level it had been when Face and Hannibal had first seen it – about six inches deep and sweeping around the convent like a stream sweeping around a boulder.

Antonia was standing on the steps that led down to the back courtyard, staring dumbly out at the destruction. JD walked up next to her, and shook his head.

"I have to ask," he said. "Why did you build your convent in the middle of a riverbed?"

"Huh?" Antonia looked at him, then seemed to come back to herself. "Oh…the river. It wasn't here."

"Wasn't here? How could it not…."

"The men who originally mined the hills a century ago built the original dam. I guess they wanted a controlled water source for their mines. This riverbed…this plain…when it dried up, was very fertile and sheltered. Perfect for crops. And they built their hacienda here, to take advantage of it. It's a convent now, of course, but it was once part of a much larger group of buildings, all of which I understand were destroyed for some reason except for this one. And then they left, deeding the convent and all the land to the sisters who first came here." She shook her head. "And, had the dam never been destroyed…it would be a plain still."

"It will be again," Josiah promised, walking up behind her. "I promise you that."

She smiled at the former preacher, then sighed. "Yes…I suppose so."

Josiah frowned slightly, not sure why she sounded so despondent, but chose to ignore it as JD splashed out into the courtyard. The kid was going to need help. He patted her shoulder then followed JD. Buck, Nathan, BA and Murdock followed soon after. Antonia watched them all as they started checking out the damage, her arms crossed over her chest.

So much violence….

"There's people at the front door," Chris said quietly, coming up behind her and interrupting her thoughts. "We need you."

+ + + + + + +

Amazingly, all of the hired guns were still alive, although they were all unconscious. Neither the gunfire nor the flood had killed anyone, which seemed impossible – even Nathan had to admit it was nothing short of miraculous. They'd seen them all flipped over, shot and half drowned, and yet each man only seemed slightly dinged up.

Nathan checked each one out as the others dragged them over to sit them against the back wall, facing up the plain towards the ruined dam, shaking his head as he consistently found a pulse and trying to decide whether he should say something about getting these men out of the water.

Vin had sloshed through the muck to get to them after he'd tethered Peso up on dry land, grinning like a madman. He'd thoroughly enjoyed blowing the dam.

Eventually, they had all nineteen of the Fishmans' men accounted for, as well as Jed. The last to be dragged over was Andy Fishman, who had somehow ended up lying on a flowerbed under a statue of the Virgin Mary. Interestingly, the water had chipped and left scars of mud across her face, so that she looked like she was staring down at the man at her feet with a thoroughly peeved expression. Josiah had smiled and bowed his head at her as he lifted Andy up to carry him over to where they'd leaned his brother.

Buck was standing back, his arms crossed, looking at the men leaning against the wall. A funny inscrutable look sat on his face, as if he couldn't decide whether to be serious or to start laughing out loud.

"What?" JD asked, sidling up next to him. "Is something the matter?"

Buck pursed his lips, waving JD away and watching as Josiah settled Andy down next to his brother and Nathan gave the man the once over. Vin was watching them as well, while Josiah stepped back to join the kid and the ladies' man. BA and Murdock wandered over, the captain humming "what can you do with a drunken sailor" under his breath.

Suddenly, laughter erupted from over by the ruined entrance gate to the back courtyard, causing them all to look in that direction. Ezra was leaning against the wall, laughing so hard his eyes were tearing.

The others looked at him, confused, and Nathan stood up abruptly, an irritated look on his face.

"Ezra! What are you doing! You should still be lying…."

"JD!" Ezra interrupted, "Look!" The gambler was pointing at Andy and Jeb Fishman, "Don't you get it? Two fish…." He stopped, unable to continue as he started laughing again.

The kid frowned, confused, but Buck had already figured out the joke earlier and was having a hard time not falling over as he finally burst out laughing as well. Vin grinned, comprehension dawning, while Josiah joined JD in frowning.

Nathan just crossed his arms, annoyed.

"JD…," Buck gasped between laughs, "your joke…."

"My what?"

"Oh my…." Josiah's eyes lit up, he started grinning.

Nathan groaned, looking up as a hint of a smile creased his features, "Oh Lord…."

"Two fish run into a wall," Ezra called, pointing at Josiah.

Josiah chuckled, nodding, "and one fish says to the other…."

JD's smile blossomed into a smile, while BA and Murdock looked at them all like they were mad.

"DAM!" Buck, Vin and JD all shouted, and the ladies' man promptly fell backwards into the water because he was laughing so hard. Vin followed soon after, while Josiah just covered his face to hide how red it had gotten. Ezra was half gasping, leaning over, his right hand now gripping the stitch in his side. Even Nathan had joined them, unable to stop himself. He took several deep breaths, trying to get serious again.

"I don't get it," BA said quietly to Nathan..

"You folks tell jokes that bad, and you think we're crazy?" Murdock asked the healer, arching an eyebrow at him.

That did it. The healer fell against the wall, laughing so hard he thought his stomach would split.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Hugo Block looked out the window from the second floor as the almost insane sounding laughter erupted from beyond the back wall.

"I can't imagine what it is your men find funny about all this," he said stonily.

Hannibal shrugged, while Chris leaned against the wall, no expression on his face, his arms crossed. The gunslinger was still pissed off at not finding Ezra up here on the cot next to Face's. Idiot gambler had snuck out while they'd been downstairs inviting the Blocks inside.

Hugo sighed and turned around, eyes drawn to the young man sleeping on the cot. Stella Block was sitting next to Face, hand resting on his head. Donata was sitting on another bed, her brother firmly ensconced in her arms.

"He is a very good conman," Hugo said, still looking at Face, then he shook his head and smiled up at the two leaders. "Fooled us beautifully. On our ride here, I did get to wondering if, had he told us the truth, would we still would have given him the wood. I like to think we would, but, the more I thought about it, I realized that, no, we wouldn't have trusted a complete stranger to do as this young man did. Who would believe someone agreeing to build an entire dam for nothing in return? But he knew well that we would believe a down on his luck priest looking for the means to build a new church…." He shook his head, "'Father O'Herlihy' indeed."

"His real name is Lieutenant Templeton Peck," Hannibal said.

"I know. Sister Ethel told us." Hugo snorted and caught Stella's eye, who blushed in return. "At least this makes my daughter happier. She's been pining since he left."

"I have not!" Stella protested weakly, the blush growing. Hannibal smiled, while Hugo Block shook his head.

"So," the older rancher said, "will Peck be all right? I warn you that I've seen men gut shot before and even when they seemed to be getting better they…."

"He'll be fine," Hannibal stated firmly, not bothering to hide the tightness in his throat. "He's a strong kid."

"Ah."

"Actually, Mr. Block, you could do us a favor," Chris said, breaking into the conversation.

"Hmmm?"

"We need to move the lieutenant out of here, take him back with us to Four Corners to recuperate. They army should be on its way….could you and your boys watch over the town and the prisoners until they get here?"

Hugo turned and arched an eyebrow at the gunslinger. Hannibal also looked at Chris in surprise, and grinned. Chris glanced at the colonel askance, then focused his gaze back on the rancher.

"And my sisters have been telegrammed, so they should be home soon as well," Sister Antonia piped up – the first thing she'd said since allowing Hugo Block and Stella up here. "I know Sister Ethel would be very grateful if…."

"Actually," Hugo looked back out the window, staring up at the ruined dam, "I was planning on staying for a while, in any event."

"You were?" Antonia asked.

"Well, you need that dam rebuilt, don't you? And professionally this time, I reckon."

"Uh…" Antonia looked at Hannibal, who shrugged.

"I was thinking about speaking with your Sister Ethel about the matter. I've decided to donate the rest of the wood from my ruined barn to your convent, as well as to pay for the engineers and construction men to actually build it – properly. In return, all I ask is the privilege to be a partner in the mining of the hills. Say 50-50?"

"50-50?" Antonia repeated.

"70-30," a weak voice said from the cot. Face opened his eyes, and blinked up at Stella. She practically cooed as he smiled. Hugo tilted his head at the conman, pursing his lips.

"Welcome back, Father O'Herlihy," the rancher greeted.

Face grimaced, not having heard the beginning of the conversation. He'd only woken when the subject of money had come up, and hadn't realized it was Hugo Block making the offer. "Mr…Block….I…I didn't mean to…."

"Hush, son, I know. Go back to sleep."

"But," Face looked up at Stella again, who was lovingly brushing the hair from his forehead. "They can't do 50-50…."

"Why not?" Hugo asked.

"They need to…reconcile…the town….give them 20%...."

"Oh, yes, that's true," Antonia nodded. "That could help the town a great deal."

"30%," Hugo Block shook his head. "I don't know…."

"The convent…needs to be…controlling partner…."

"Face, quiet," Hannibal moved over and put a hand on the lieutenant's arm. "I'll handle this. Go back to sleep."

"But…"

"Sleep."

"Aye, colonel."

"Mr. Block," Hannibal looked at Hugo, "70-30 is a fair split. My lieutenant is right. Your wood won't cost you anything to donate, and hiring the professionals to build a new dam…that may cost money, but the sisters could just as well start mining the hills themselves and rebuild the dam themselves. And you probably know what a hard woman Sister Ethel is to deal with. If I were you, I'd go with 70-30."

Hugo grimaced, then let it lift into a smile. After a moment, he nodded.

"So," Chris cleared his throat, "Mr. Block, you'll watch over things for us then?"

"Mr. Larabee," Hugo said, smiling more brightly now, "you have my word."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The next morning was warm and bright, reflecting off the water swirling around the convent in bright golden flashes.

Standing near the front door, Sister Antonia and Sister Frances watched as Face was gently carried down the stairs on a stretcher carried by BA and Josiah. The two strongest men in the group both treated their burden like the most delicate china. Not that Face noticed – he had lost consciousness again. But, now that the sisters were back (arrived this morning) and the army was sighted just a league away, it was felt best that the A-Team and the Magnificent Seven were on their way.

Antonia moved to sit next to Sister Ethel on a stone bench attached to the front wall, where she was watching the maneuverings of the men as they bustled Face onto a wagon. The mother superior sighed, wondering just how they were going to get back to normal after all of this.

"Mother…" Antonia said, her voice quiet. "So much has happened here…."

"Yes," Ethel turned her head to look at Antonia. The black haired nun was not wearing the hood of her habit, and so she was busy pushing stray black hairs behind her ears. "Is something the matter, Antonia?"

"I just…there has been so much violence…so much hurt and destruction….Mother, you always told us that violence solves nothing, that it can only result in tainting a place with anger and hate….And I just thought that…that you would…."

"Ah," Ethel nodded, understanding. "Yes…I've been thinking about that too."

"Mother…are we to leave this place?"

Ethel grimaced. She'd been thinking about this ever since they'd left. She had indeed been seriously considering having them all move on. How could they continue to live here, knowing that people had nearly died because of it?

She looked back at the convent just in time to see Josiah Sanchez wander out. He spoke a little with Sister Frances, still by the door. The preacher's shoulders were slumped again, though not as much as they normally were after he bade farewell to his sister. Still, he looked bleak as he and Sister Frances made their way over to Ethel and Antonia.

"Josiah," Ethel said as he and Sister Frances reached them. "You've said goodbye, I take it?"

"Yes, mother," Josiah sighed. "Hannah's…just the same. I…after hearing her talk to the sergeant…I thought perhaps…but she only seems to respond to him. I don't understand it."

"Hannah must respond to something in Sargeant Baracus, perhaps the same thing Miguel sees, and Captain Murdock," Ethel smiled. "I'm only sorry she can't respond to the rest of us the same way."

Josiah blew the air out of his cheeks and gave a small nod. "In any event, I'll see you in a few weeks," he said. "First of the month, as usual."

Ethel's eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to speak, but Frances interrupted her.

"Yes, Josiah, you will. We'll be here," she promised. He nodded at her and turned to leave, but she reached out to touch his arm.

"Wait," Frances said, gripping his hand. "Josiah…thank you. For what you and the others have done. Thank you."

Josiah's smile became more genuine, and he gripped her hand in return. Turning away, there was more lightness in his step as he went to join the rest of the men by the wagon.

Ethel frowned, looking up at Frances.

"Frances, you might have spoken too soon…."

"You think that, perhaps, we shouldn't stay here. After all that has happened, that we no longer should be apart of a place that has seen blood spilt within its walls?" Sister Frances replied cooly, looking down at the Mother Superior. Ethel's eyes widened slightly at the steel in the usually timid woman's gaze.

Frances shook her head, "Mother, you're wrong. We can't hide from the violence in the world. We can only try to prevent it when we can. But sometimes," she paused, her eyes narrowing as she saw Hannibal Smith tip his hat at her from across the courtyard, "sometimes you also have to fight for what you believe in." She sat next to Sister Ethel and took her hand. "And I believe we have much to do here."

"This place has seen violence, betrayal and loss, Mother. And it is in places like these that we are needed the most. The town was willing to let us be ruined, because they not think we can help them. But we can, and I think it's about time we played a larger role in Vista City, don't you?"

Antonia's eyebrows lifted, surprised at her fellow sister's audacity. "Frances!"

But Sister Frances was on a roll. "Antonia told me Mr. Block has offered to help us rebuild the dam in return for a piece of the mines. He's willing to take 30%. I also think we should offer the town as 20% partnership, and in return, they can help us fix the convent. And 40% of the mine shall belong to the convent, which money we can use to help the poor and needy of this area."

Sister Ethel's eyes were wide open, but a little mental calculation furrowed her brow.

"You're short 10%."

"I know. I have a plan for that as well." Frances smiled, and her eyes looked over at the men gathered around the wagon.

Antonia covered her eyes. She thought Sister Frances had gone too far.

But Sister Ethel didn't think so. In fact, her eyes were thoughtful. "Sister Frances…you sound as if you've been thinking about this for a while."

"Oh," Antonia blurted, "she's been saying that for years."

"Really," Ethel deadpanned. Frances blushed, but Ethel only smiled.

"Well, then, I think perhaps Sister Frances should start speaking up more."

"Really?" Frances' voice squeaked slightly. She'd had to work up all her courage to say all that, something which she'd adopted from spending time with Colonel Smith and Chris Larabee, but it was still another thing to find the object of your fear smiling at you when you'd faced it.

"Yes," Sister Ethel squeezed Frances' hand. "I didn't want to leave, Frances. And now you've helped me see that, even if I did want to leave, we'd be wrong to do so."

Sister Frances smiled brightly. Sister Antonia looked heavenwards, her lips forming the words "thank you."

+ + + + + + +

"I think we're ready to move out," Hannibal said, walking up to Chris. The gunslinger nodded and looked around, taking stock.

Buck was leaning against Gray, talking to a couple of Block's other daughters (working his usual magic), while Vin stood off to one side, Peso's reins in his hand as he stood talking to Josiah about something. Murdock was sitting in the back of the wagon with Nathan, the two men talking – or at least Murdock was talking; Nathan just looked sort of lost. BA sat in front of the wagon, the draught horses' reins loose in his hand, talking to Sister Frances. The sergeant's own big black horse – Van – quietly munched some grass off to the side. Apparently the horse would follow the wagon without need to be tethered to it.

Chris frowned as he spotted Chaucer and Bonnie, both horses without their riders. He noticed with some curiosity that Face's mare was standing right next to the Chestnut…very close, actually. That was an oddity in itself, since the Chestnut usually didn't like any other horses standing too close to him.

"Have you seen Ezra and JD?" Chris asked the colonel. Hannibal turned and looked around, as if realizing himself for the first time that both men were missing. When the colonel shook his head, Chris whistled for Vin. The tracker looked back.

"Where are Ezra and JD?"

Vin's eyebrows lifted, and he looked around. Looking back at Chris, he shrugged. Then he smiled.

"Well there's Ezra," he answered, looking over Chris's shoulder.

Chris turned around, as did Hannibal. Ezra was walking out of the door of the convent, brushing some imaginary dust from the sleeves of a royal blue jacket he'd borrowed from Face's bags.

"Ezra," Chris called, "You seen JD?"

The gambler looked up, and a smirk lit his features.

"Ah, Mr. Larabee, how clever of you to ask," Ezra replied, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him. "As you all know, Mr. Dunne ruined an article of clothing of mine that was very dear to me – my favorite jacket."

"The purple one was your favorite jacket?" Buck called from where he had an arm looped over the shoulders of one of the girls, "I thought the red was your favorite."

"No, Mr. Wilmington, that is merely my warmest jacket, and a good one for traveling in."

"What about the tan one?" Vin challenged.

Ezra looked at him, "My tan coat is not a jacket, Vin. It's a coat."

"There's a difference?"

"Yes. Now, as I was saying…."

"What about the new navy blue one you have?" Josiah asked.

"Mr. Sanchez, how can a new jacket compete with the sentimental value of my…."

"What about the black one? You always seem to save that one for best," Nathan said, leaning out of the back of the wagon.

Ezra just looked at him like he was an idiot. "That's a business jacket, Mr. Jackson. I don't wear it for fun."

"Oh," Nathan grimaced, "but you know, you look pretty good in it. Maybe you should wear it more."

Ezra arched an eyebrow at Nathan, who gave an impish grin in return.

"Ezra, the green one is your favorite," Chris stated abruptly. Ezra looked at the gunslinger, opened him mouth to argue, then shut it again. Frowning, he nodded.

"All right, yes, that's true. Still…."

"How many jackets have you got?" Hannibal asked. "I don't think even Face has that many."

"Yes he does," BA said. He lifted a hand and started ticking off his fingers, "the light blue one, the cream one, the gray one, the royal blue one that Ezra's wearing…."

"Hey, hey," Ezra interrupted, "please, gentlemen, this is about my jacket."

"Oh, right," Vin said, grinning, "and which color one was it again?"

"Vin, if I may, I'd like to get to the point," Ezra said, exasperated.

"You have a point?" Buck asked grinning. "I always thought you were sort of pointless."

"Ha, ha, very droll, Mr. Wilmington. Remind me of that joke next time I win a week's worth of pay from you at poker."

"Ezra," Chris sighed, "your point?"

Ezra smiled again, "Certainly, Mr. Larabee. Now, as you all know, Mr. Dunne does not have the funds to either repair or replace my jacket. Accordingly, for penance, he has agreed to three conditions. One, he is going to muck out Chaucer's stall for the next two months. Two, he has agreed to give me any and all profits from any games he may be involved in until such time as he has paid the worth of my jacket."

"How much was it worth?" Buck asked, curious.

"Nearly twenty dollars, Mr. Wilmington."

"Twenty dollars? You've got to be kidding!" Buck gasped.

"Do they sell clothes for that much?" Vin asked, looking at Chris. The gunslinger just shrugged in return.

"My whole suit only cost four dollars, Ezra," Josiah rumbled, as if such a fact could negate the gambler's statement.

Ezra smiled apologetically at him, "Yes, Mr. Sanchez, I am aware at that. And, far be it of me to speak ill of Mrs. Potter's honesty, but I think she may have cheated you on that one. That ‘suit' as you call it, couldn't have been worth more than two and a bit, if that."

Josiah's eyes widened, then narrowed menacingly. "Ezra, what are you implying about…."

"Ezra," Chris interrupted, in part to stop the larger preacher from continuing, "you said three conditions. What is the third?"

The impish grin instantly reformed on Ezra's face, and he stepped forward from the doorway.

"Mr. Dunne, will you join us please?"

JD's whispered "No!" was easily heard.

"Mr. Dunne."

"Ezra…I'm really sorry about the jacket. Please don't make me do this."

"Mr. Dunne, outside. Now."

A sigh was heard, and then the young man walked out of the convent. Ezra grinned as the courtyard erupted in laughter. JD aimed a glare at each and every one of his "friends," especially Buck, who had bent in half, his hands on his knees.

The kid was dressed head to foot in a nun's habit, complete with black hair stick out in uneven lumps from beneath the hood. JD's face was bright red as he soaked up the laughter around him with as much dignity as he could muster as he walked across the courtyard to his horse. He kept his eyes to the ground the whole time.

"Can we just go?" he demanded angrily. Without waiting for an answer he lifted a foot to put in the stirrup…and found it prevented by the length of the black skirt. Blushing even deeper, he hitched the skirt up, ignoring the fact that everyone could see his bare legs, and stuck the foot in the stirrup.

He then found actually mounting impossible because he couldn't swing a leg over Bonnie's back. The horse shifted forward, and the kid fell back to the ground in a heap. Getting back to his feet, he brushed the water and dirt from the skirts and somehow managed not to swear at the unconcerned horse, using instead substitute words as "fudge," "sugar" and even a "criminey" or two as he tried to figure out how to mount.

"I think you'll have to ride side saddle, son!" Josiah called unhelpfully, which created another loud peal of laughter from the crowd. Even Sister Ethel and Antonia were grinning as they walked over to join Hannibal and Chris by the wagon.

Ezra basked in the glow as he headed over to Chaucer. He was a happy man. Especially since he decided the purple jacket could be saved. His left arm didn't even hurt much anymore. He reached Chaucer and, a little awkwardly because of the sling, mounted the horse. He ignored the baleful glare JD gave him as he passed by the younger man.

"Ezra, no, you're riding in the wagon with that arm," Nathan called, breaking into some of the laughter. At the order, the gambler grimaced, looking down at his still bound left arm, while JD gave a wicked little smile. Then Ezra grinned, kicked at Chaucer's sides and rode out of the front courtyard. Face's white mare followed close behind, almost as if she were attached to the chestnut.

"Ezra!" Nathan yelled, "Da…Darn it!" The healer shook his head and moved to sit up next to BA. The sergeant gave him an understanding nod. He knew all about stubborn idiots. Meanwhile, Vin and Buck both swung up on their own horses and rode out after the gambler, though Buck kissed both of Block's daughters before he left. They waved after the ladies' man long after he was out of sight. JD sighed, pulled himself up to sit sideways on Bonnie's back, shifted a bit, then carefully rode out after them. That left only the wagon, Chris and Hannibal in the yard with the nuns.

"I'm surprised you let him have that habit, Sister Ethel," Hannibal admitted, looking to the mother superior at his side. The gray haired nun simply smiled in return.

"Least I could do. Now, before you go," she said, changing the subject, "there's something I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh?" Hannibal couldn't keep the suspicion from his tone.

"First, I want to thank you," she looked at Chris, "and you, for everything you've done. You helped us, even knowing that we couldn't pay you, and even though you had to deal with me."

Hannibal grinned, "Sister Ethel, honestly, its not…."

"So, I'm giving both of you a 10% interest in the mine, to share amongst yourselves. Just tell me where to send it."

Hannibal's mouth dropped, while Chris frowned.

"Face says, our 5% should be sent to the Wells Fargo branch in Denver," Murdock said from his position in the wagon. "Account number, hold on," he leant over Face, and they saw the conman's lips move. Murdock straightened back up, "Account number 216, care of a Mr. Lee." They could all see Face's lips curl into a smile as Murdock finished.

"No, Face," Hannibal said, looking into the wagon, "we can't take it."

"And neither can we, mother," Chris stated firmly. "We didn't come here because…."

"Nonsense, of course you can," Ethel interrupted. "Mr. Larabee, I'll send your 5% to Mr. Sanchez. And you can tell Josiah he no longer needs to send payments for Hannah. She'll be well taken care of."

"But…" Chris looked at Hannibal. The colonel shrugged.

"Neither of you have a choice in the matter," Ethel stated firmly, crossing her arms. "As you well know, once I make up my mind about something…."

Suddenly, the bell started ringing, causing them all to look upwards. Ethel frowned. Why was someone ringing the bell now?

From nowhere, Miguel appeared, coming around the corner of the convent at a run.

"The army!" he shouted. "They're coming!"

And, at the same moment, a nun came bounding down the stairs to the front door. "Sister Doreen says there is a whole cavalry movement coming up from the stretch below the convent!" she panted. "That's why she's ringing the bell."

"That's our cue," Hannibal grinned, jumping into the back of the wagon. He pulled down the cover and BA ducked inside as well, after handing Nathan the reins. Chris tipped his hat at Sister Ethel, Sister Frances and Sister Antonia, and jogged over to Solon. Nathan snapped the reins, and the wagon rolled out the front yard to the road.

"Bye BA!" Miguel yelled, "Bye Murdock!"

"Bye kid!" BA shouted.

"Goodbye," Chris said, riding up in front of the sisters, "and thanks." He kicked Solon into a gallop and headed out after the wagon.

Miguel ran after him as far as the gate, and watched as the wagon and Chris joined the rest of the Seven waiting just down the road. Then the whole group rode off together, heading off the road and towards the west to avoid running into the cavalry troops.

Frances walked up behind Miguel and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, there they go," she sighed.

"Sister Frances?"

"Yes?"

"Have you heard the one about the two fish that ran into a wall….?"

The End